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Preparing for war is a terrible, terrible thing to do. Catra was no stranger to it. Tonight would be the end of it all. She would finally show everyone - Shadow Weaver, Lord Hordak, Adora everybody who ever cast her away. She would show them all the true meaning of war. It meant casualties. It meant loss. It meant bringing She-ra and the rebellion down, no matter the cost. And she is going to win.
So Catra kept preparing. The training dummy was scarred and breaking, but the punches kept on coming. And she wasn't going to stop until she felt numb.
Catra didn't give the frozen woods a second glance. Her claws were already as sharp and cutting as the words coming out of her mouth, but she kept on sharpening them. Her hits must be fatal - they must be dangerous. Because that would make people see her as a threat. Threats are good in war. They can not mean anything but affect people all the same. 'Empty threats', Catra thought as she stared at her dull reflection in the tips of her claws for the millionth time, 'are the most threatening,' It was like lies, honey sweet lies poured into your mouth, but they burnt as hard as hellfire. For both sides.
"
I made it farther than anyone thought. You, on the other hand, you're not looking so good."
Empty threats. Distractions. Punches. Fights. War.
Death.
Catra was so close to finishing her mission. What was keeping her from dealing that final blow?
"Did you really think this was about you?"
It was. Was it?
It was at that moment, Catra realized the whole ordeal was never about She-Ra. It was about Adora. But She-Ra and Adora are the same person, aren't they? No, it was about her. If only-
If only she could feel no regret. Catra now knew what she needed to do. She needed to end everything, right here, right now.
The tides of war rage on, the battle never ceasing, the voices of absolute rage pounding in her head. 'This', Catra thought, 'is war.' She was seeing red, red, her Horde uniform glistening in the glow of the runestone she sought to destroy. Red, the blood everywhere, the blood on her claws. Red, her vision, filled with anger. Seething anger.
Then all she saw was blue, black, blue black.
Normally, she'd be able to get out of the water. It wasn't very deep, but the princess had to show up and mess up everything. Everything she planned out so carefully, hours and hours of training gone to waste.
'Stop it, stop it! I can't think!'
She was almost completely submerged, with her ankle covered in grime and her knee trapped in flower vines. The sounds of war raged on in her head, while the sound of her own mind deafened.
Catra must have died already. because she was looking at an angel with the most beautiful blonde hair and electric eyes she's ever seen.
Catra was so tired, but she clawed out silently, her hand feeling the water rushing on. This was so wrong. It must be a demon in disguise, here to punish me for my sins. And indeed, it was the worst punishment ever. Catra closed her eyes and smiled. 'Don't look, don't think.' Suddenly she felt a tug on her numb body. 'Don't look, don't think about it Catra.'
The demon must've not punished her enough, because Catra was still breathing. Albeit slowly. At least it was quiet, and she could almost think again. It wouldn't do her any good anyways, as Catra felt herself sink down further and further. Maybe if she tried she would wake up fine, but Catra knew when a war was lost. And she had lost both wars, the one on the outside and the one on the inside.
'There isn't nearly enough casualties in this war, right?'
And with the last of her energy, she thrusted her claws upward and pulled the figure in for a kiss.
Because I had to bring you down with me.
And in her last breath, she breathed, "Farewell, Adora."