Chapter Text
Castaspella stomped through the hallways with great speed and her face showed a mist of emotions that no one actually had the courage to stop her. The Queen came right from Mystacor once she heard Shadow Weaver was being held captive in Bright Moon. She wouldn’t let anyone but her talk to the woman privately, knowing how she was. It was right after the events of them invading the Horde, right before Glimmer’s coronation. Of course she would be there for her niece, but that wouldn’t mean she was happy about Shadow Weaver being back at the palace grounds.
She was held captive more loose this time, as she had been informed before. No guard stopped her, warned her, not even when she got to Shadow Weaver’s new room. The place was starting to look like a garden, a confined greenhouse. It smelled nice and quiet. Shadow Weaver probably noticed her presence, but made no mention to actually acknowledge it. She decided to keep tending to her flowers, silently.
Castaspella knew that game far too well. It wouldn’t do her any good if she didn’t play it too.
So, looking around the woman took in the diverse types of flowers. There were roses, lilies, tulips but no daisies - to which kept Castaspella curious. That was Shadow Weaver’s favorite flower, she always liked to tend to them in Mystacor. Back then she would sit on the bench, look at the flowers while Castaspella would read a book about magic. Shadow Weaver would go on and on about how magic flowed everywhere in Etheria, while Castaspella would look around and see beauty in everything that existed.
Back then they were only friends and then all that happened.
Both were grown women now and that, somehow, seemed to put new walls and destroy the ones they once held. They could talk eye to eye now.
“Yes, they wouldn’t give me daisies as I requested.” Shadow Weaver spoke without looking at Castaspella, as if she could read her mind.
“I suppose you don’t have any right to have everything as you wish, Shadow Weaver.”
Shadow Weaver chuckled and watered her plants. Castaspella infuriated herself, not believing in how much the woman could pretend all of what was happening was normal and she was just there, gardening in peace. But, getting angry was what Shadow Weaver wanted, and Castaspella was already, so she had to try another approach.
The Mystacor Queen’s fingers touched soft tulips and it’s petals, to which surprised Shadow Weaver - she was indeed waiting for a fight and a lot of screaming. She looked at Castaspella for the first time in a while and decided that it was the first time she was actually taking in the image of Queen Castaspella; she looked almost taller than her, her posture right up and something about her showed true might. Castaspella looked like someone they would respect at Mystacor and everywhere she went. She was serious and Shadow Weaver didn’t know what was about to come from her. They could battle each other and that would have been fine for her - she would win most certainly - but it wouldn’t be good for her plans to murder Castaspella. She decided to look at her, waiting for her to do whatever she came to.
Castaspella, on the other hand, was discussing with herself whether she should or shouldn’t end Shadow Weaver’s life. They couldn’t trust her any longer! But even so, she knew more about the enemy and the world as whole than any of them would - more than even Adora. She needed to think carefully, acting on her feelings wasn’t going to be the best approach she could have. That’s why she chose carefully:
“Why are you here?”
“Queen Glimmer chose to bring me back.”
Castaspella nodded to that, but assumed a worried expression. Since Angella… Glimmer was hard to approach. She wasn’t listening as much, she seemed impetuous. There was no way to actually contact her and Castaspella knew it had a lot to do with Shadow Weaver’s whisperings.
“It’s a shame your garden doesn’t have daisies,” Castaspella said carelessly “Mystacor has the best ones, they always grow beautifully there.”
That comment made Shadow Weaver become more serious than she was. Bringing back Mystacor and memories wasn’t something she was fond of, even though she knew that Castaspella was speaking the truth. Her young memories were like a private subject she chose not to touch in so many years that, coming from Castaspella, angered her. Of course she remembered how daisies grew in Mystacor’s fields. Of course she remembered how they were, that’s why she asked for this garden - it was long since she could cultivate one of her own.
“Yes.” she agreed after a while “It is a shame.”
Castaspella turned to her and Shadow Weaver looked straight to her eyes through her mask, to which seemed to not please Castaspella very much. She saw the woman’s face after the events in Mystacor, so there was no need to hide it. Shadow Weaver probably wanted to keep it that way so she wouldn’t have to explain, or maybe she thought she was like a monstrosity. Or maybe it was one of her many secrecies. Castaspella looked behind her at the window, it was early morning. Of course.
“I’ll come and speak to you later Shadow Weaver, maybe you’ll get rid of that mask of yours so I can know what you’re thinking.”
“To what I owe the pleasure of having the Mystacor’s Queen herself to keep such a gentle eye on me?”
Castaspella smiled at her, gently and politically.
“Easy, I’m the only one who knows you better than anyone on this planet.”
The woman nodded and with that same Queen expression she held, she prepared herself to leave.
“How can you be so sure?”
Castaspella halted halfway through the door, looked over her shoulder at Shadow Weaver and smiled at her.
“You’re predictable.”
And with that she left. Once she closed the door, Castaspella caressed her forehead and sighed. That was a lie - Shadow Weaver was anything but predictable. But she had to seem like she was in control there, like she was composed and knew exactly what she was doing. She didn’t. Being alone in a room with Shadow Weaver meant thinking about things she didn’t want to, but there wasn’t anyone else in there up to that task.
Shadow Weaver looked at the door and only averted her eyes when she heard the heels go away from the door to somewhere in the hallway. She knew Castaspella was lying, but she was too secure. What the woman was planning? She couldn’t know. Shadow Weaver looked at her tulips, roses and all of the other flowers. She took her mask off and felt weird, but she was alone. She touched her own face and smiled.
It was indeed a shame that she didn’t have daisies.
• • •
Shadow Weaver was looking at the Moon through her window, sat in her bed. This was a different room than the greenhouse - they thought it was safer for her to be placed in somewhere confined, surrounded by a magic spell Castaspella prepared. She knew that she could leave anytime she wanted, but her accommodations weren’t bad - a nice bed with a night table, some puffs here and there and a window large and tall enought to be compared to a door - and she still would wait for Glimmer coronation.
There wasn’t a way to deny, though, that the view from there was peacefuller than in the Horde. There was no type of pollution and magic could be seen everywhere, even she could see the tiny bits of magic that looked like pollen that fell here and there. She forgot how magic was beautiful, growing and living for the time she spent in the Horde. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but it did fill her with curiosity - perhaps there was more to learn here than she thought she would.
She wore her mask, though, as she knew she would have someone visiting her tonight.
Queen Castaspella entered the room without knocking, but did not make any noise. The smell of lavender filled the room and Shadow Weaver closed her eyes, looking at the woman who just entered. Castaspella looked tired - probably because of her day affairs and duties - but still looked beautiful. They called her the most beautiful Queen rightfully, as she always seemed polished and untouched.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Castaspella.”
“I cannot say the same.”
Shadow Weaver chuckled and opened her eyes to see the other woman better, she was carrying a plate with tea, something that she knew Castaspella liked. The woman placed it on the night table and took the chair to place it closer to the bed, in front of Shadow Weaver. Before she could sit down, she served herself a cup of tea. Enjoying it with a sigh, Castaspella then begun, once more:
“I hope missing this place isn’t the reason you came back, Shadow Weaver.”
“You know I wouldn’t come back for such things as this.”
Castaspella nodded, knowing it to be true, but also wanting to end that subject, and Shadow Weaver got up, serving herself her own cup of tea. She sat back in the bed and lifted her mask only slightly to take a sip, resting it on it’s plate once more.
“It bothers me not to know why you came back.”
“That might be something all of you here have in common.”
“And yet here you are.”
“And yet.”
Castaspella placed the plate with her cup on top of the night table, looking back at Shadow Weaver. It had been ages, though, that she was able to spend time with Shadow Weaver instead of being in a battle against each other. The waves of black hair that layered down her back seemed to be longer than the last time she saw her, but her voice sounded the same. Mysterious, intelligent and self-aware. Castaspella did not know if she missed this, but there was some kind of uneasy feeling building up in her stomach. The woman once more lifted her mask to take a sip, to which Castaspella noted:
“Why don’t you take it off? You know I have seen you before.”
“Yes. I don’t trust someone enough for this.”
“You used to.”
Shadow Weaver chuckled and looked back at her.
“Are you trying to get soft on me, Castaspella?”
“No,” the woman answered honestly “I’m just curious. I think that, either you’re ashamed of yourself or you’re being unnecessarily emblematic once more. I don’t have time for both.”
“Why is the mask so important to you?” Shadow Weaver asked back, interest in her voice as much as fun.
“It is easier to know what you’re feeling when I can see your eyes properly.”
And again, Castaspella made a hint of the past. When they were younger, Shadow Weaver still hid her nose and mouth, for reasons she did not want to remember. But, Castaspella always said that she wore her heart on her eyes, that everything she felt could be found and understood if someone looked right into her eyes. Shadow Weaver didn’t like to be on this position, to be toyed with. But, if there was someone that could understand and play Shadow Weaver’s games was to be Castaspella.
They spent more time in silence, Castaspella returning to enjoy her tea and to look outside the window. Shadow Weaver did not want to look at the window, or to enjoy the tea anymore. She was cautious, looking at Castaspella, waiting for any given moment of action the Queen would have - would they be offensive or not - Shadow Weaver wanted to be prepared. Because she knew two things when she came back: she was to be prepared for the people second guessing her and wanting to kill her all the time, the second thing being prepared for memories.
You see, memories are the weakness of a being, they are the ones that can make one change their resolution, change their opinions. Shadow Weaver didn’t think she was to be changed in that way, but she thought that she could make actions too hastily based on how she would feel about those memories. And Shadow Weaver was in control of herself, she always was, so there was no need to overthink. She didn't consider how much of an impact she would be, though.
The problem is - Castaspella was the living walking token of all the memories she had in Mystacor, when knowledge was her hope and not her weapon.
She was painfully aware of how nostalgic that smell felt, Castaspella’s scent of lavender. Aware of her warmth, power, but most importantly, at how grown she was. She was secure, she wasn’t scared of being in the presence of Shadow Weaver as most of the other people were. She was there like Shadow Weaver didn’t hold any power over her, nor intimidation, nor admiration. And that was hard, she wasn’t used to being treated at the same level as someone. It was a nice shift of balance though, as she was always treated like a lesser being for those higher in the hierarchy.
Either way, the silence didn’t do her any good, it only made her more anxious. What was Castaspella going to do?
After a couple minutes, the Queen finished her tea, getting up and placing the plate with her cup on top of it. Then she got closer to Shadow Weaver, who didn’t move an inch - though her hand was ready for any swift movement Castaspella would try to pull. And then, the Queen reached her hand to the sorcerer - Shadow Weaver widened her eyes and halted when the hand rested on her cheek, on top of her mask. Castaspella held Shadow Weaver’s face gently. It felt weird for both of them, but two types of weird: Shadow Weaver felt uneasy as she hasn't been touched with such softness in long years, and the wamrth of Castaspella's hand felt like poison, like that warmth would spread through her entire face and consume her. To Castaspella, it felt sad. Even though she hated Shadow Weaver nowadays, the woman used to be a friend of hers, someone close, someone whose face wasn't multiple but one, one she knew far too well, one she thought she would see to the rest of her days.
“You used to how to have fun, Shadow Weaver. I’ll see you later.” Castaspella's sounded almost quiet, but gentle.
Like an ethereal being, Castaspella hand’s left Shadow Weaver’s face and she leaves the room, the guards entering only to take back the tea plate she left there.
Shadow Weaver still looked to the place where Castaspella was, lost and taken out of guard. When the door closed, Shadow Weaver did not take her mask off, she felt that Castaspella's touch would enter her skin and unlock doors she threw the key away. That wasn't good. To be in the dark, to not know what was going to happen. Shadow Weaver needed to make a plan, but more importantly:
What was the Queen planning?