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Chapter Text

1010 I.D.

Tack Tack Tack Tack

           Catra doesn't quite remember where she is at the moment, but she does know she can't stop for anything on Etheria, not after today. Hmph. Isn't that a bad joke. Today? She had no clue why she hadn't been running years ago. She always knew she would have to run alone.

Stomp-Stomp-Stomp

Stomp-Stomp-Stomp

           Shear panic spread through her veins before she could clamp down on it. With a snick her claws shot out and up the hall wall she went holding herself up the pipes, ignoring the alarming pain developing in her left arm, spreading with every beat of her terrified heart. A familiar flurry of Horde guardsmen stormed past, headed by the unfamiliar Tsubaki.

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"Lord Hordak, your reputation precedes you."

           "Unfortunately," Hissed the commander, "I have no idea who you are, nor why I should see you two personally executed for this intrusion." 

           With a feral grin and a brutal gleam in her eye, the stranger rebuked, "Because your Lordship, my apprentice and I, alongside our humble forces, wish to pledge ourselves to the Horde cause, with the promise that my position above my men remain unchallenged."

           The dictator leaned back, poor lighting showing only the red in his eyes. An imperceptible squint in his eyes, as he focused on the odd cylinder at her hip. Old reports of battles where he wasn't flashed in the back of his mind, attempting to push the front of an unknown galaxy, only to be pushed back by psychics wielding blades as hot as suns, as varied as nebulae. "And why," he growled, "would I allow a Jedi into my ranks?"

           With a knowing smirk that belonged on a beast circling wounded prey, the golden armored woman stood, lightsaber raised with flourish. With a snap-hiss, a steady blood-red bathed the room, highlighting even the Horde Lord's bat-like features. With a sharp throb, he dismissed the report. "Because I, Lady Masago of the Sith," she finished with a deep chuckle, "am no cowardly Jedi."

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           At a fork in the hall, Catra scrambles to a halt, her brain wracked with panic. Another stabbing pain, like a dagger through all the wrong nerves.

L̵̪͌̋͗̑è̴̳̗̈́̐f̷̢̢̙͇̖̐͊͘t̷̮̬͔̰͗͑̿̃̅͝

           Eyes widened with the clarity of that voice through the pain, she scrambled left, turning the corner just as a pair of soldiers ran past from the opposite end of the hall.

           Scrambling on all fours, Catra ran towards where she knew the skiff bay was, having witnessed their instructor put the keys away for months during their vehicle training. Her ribs throbbing in protest, her heart soared as she saw the maintenance opening that would let her drop feet first to freedom. It caught in her throat as she saw Shadow Weaver, just meters away from the hatch to escape, slowly turning to face her.  

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            Dangling just out of sight, Catra tightened as she heard the newly christened 'commander' Masago walk in, followed close behind by Tsubaki. Settling in, she watched and waited to observe the newcomers making waves with their acceptance into the Horde. Her left brow quirked up in confusion as Tsubaki said something biting in a language she'd never heard before. No matter, as Masago violently slamming her apprentice into a wall with a wave of her hand implied it was less than polite. 

           Ears straining forward, her eyebrows pinched together in surprise as she was suddenly able to comprehend Masago mid-sentence.

"-and when the time comes, I will decide when to claim my rightful rule over this dirtball planet, NOT YOU!"

"Of course, Jen'Ari…"

           Whatever grasp of understanding Catra held slipped as she felt a hammer wrack against her skull. With an involuntary hiss, she slipped from her retreat to the floor. She jolted to a halt as the future usurper held her left arm in a titanic, poisoned vice. "Hmph," tittered the Lady of the Sith, "no use for a potential rat in a cat's skin."

           Catra panicked as she saw Masago reach for her weapon with no hesitation. Knowing from that look in her eyes that there would be no chance to reason, she lashed out with a clawed hand guided by beating adrenaline and instinct. Feeling the flesh tear beneath her razor-sharp claws, she huffed as she was thrown against the exit to the room, ribs sending lancing pain in protest. 

           Nearly tripping out of the door, Catra came to a pause as two soldiers halted in front of her, before breaking into a dead run as Masago roared, "GET THAT BRAT!" 

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An unwelcome, f̴̨̨̝̯̰͓͔̩̱̙͓̞̼̹̲̖͈͉̌̉̄͛̆͘̚͘͝ą̸̢̡̧̛͖̞̬̗͓̥̠̜̰͕͔̲̻̥̥̟̮̊̓̎͂̑͛͐͘͘͝m̵̢̦̖͇͕̼̐̉͜͜ͅi̵͉̜̣͖̙͔͙̲̺͉̞̗̲͔͉͗̀͂̉̏͊͗̔͒̎͊̋̒̍̂̎̈́͘͝l̷͖͕͚̾̔̐̀͊͆͆͛̂̈͊̉̾̈͘͝͝͝ị̵̢̡̡͙̫͖̹͉̟̘͔̘͇̪̈́͋̔̈́̄̀͗̍̍̿͒͂͑͆̊͗̾̕͝͠͝ă̴͈̭̲͍̤̪̓̾̒̇̄̐̈́͘̕r̷͎̞̜̰̤̬̲̖̣͇̠͍̳̔͜ͅ ̷̩̰͍̦̝̙͉̝͉̣̪̖̭̏̾̈́̂̌̑͋̿͑̋̃̕͝r̷̲͙̪̗̫̀́͊͌̑͛̔͑̍͌͂̏̚ẻ̷̡͉̠̥͚̗̺͚̜̿͐͗̌d̴̨̞̣̪͓͍̦͊̈͋̋͌̃̽̄̓̑ ̶̩͇͖̥̫̜̖̱̼̰̥͈̹̭̪͚̤̗̜̪͔̭̐̉͊̈́͝g̴̡̡̡̡̛̺̼͙̯̖̫͈̜̬͉̗̝̪̰̖̹͓̉̓̉̓̓̿͂̇͝ͅḻ̶̛̱͔͈̬̹̝͈̹̥̉̈́́̊̋̿̎̂̅͐̌̏́̒̃̿̐̚̚͝ͅǫ̵͓͔͕̫̭͎̗͇̹͕̮̊̓̓̀̑̋̎͛̿̌̇͛͆̐͂̿͘͘͝w̷̧͖̘̻̩̱͖͍̦̺̹̩͓̎͐͂̿͊ͅ, t̷̲͆r̴͉̰̬͓̮̕̕̚i̴̛͓̦̱̞̫̬̎͒͊͝a̵̡̞̟̲͔̒̆͗͊̾͛ļ̸͔̤̾͆̍ ̶̥̥̘͗̍͜b̶̛̤̗͇͙̠͑̔̎̽ḙ̶͕̭̦̳̳͌̔̌̂f̸͗̓͠ͅo̶̬̖̪̦͆̾r̴̗̦̗͇̰̆̀̅̆͝e̵̤͖̥̦̲̽͜͠ ̵̲̮̟̈́̽̃̍Ḧ̷̞̙̫̦́̏̄ò̵̺͔̝̟̮͍͂̆̊̈̍r̸̙̱̰͂̂̅͘d̴̨̙̺̪͍̤̈a̸̙̟͖͂̾k̵̨̠͙̭͇͗,̵̨͈͈͔̘̟̒̔̓̒̀̑ ̴̡̘͎̻̪̊̏̄ȇ̴̻̼̬̀͊ͅñ̷̨̩̲̭͑͒͑̃̾r̴̘̈́̀̎̋̍̓a̸̡͈͈̜̰͐g̵̢̧͍̳͔͋ͅë̶̢̦̩͎̜́͂͗͝d̴̡́́̍ ̸͇͈͚̪̞̕y̴͖̺͆͋͊e̷͖͋̿̆͠l̴̪͓͈̙͇͊ļ̸̼͍̯̓̾̆ó̸̧̯͎́w̸̧̜͝ ̴̹̠̼͉̏̂̒̈́̀͜ĕ̷͓̈͗̾͆͒y̴̬̍́͋e̷̜̯̿̈́s̵̨̻̖͎͂̐̀͛̅̕…̶̨̛̥͒̃.̷̳̃̓̇͘

           Slamming herself against one of the protrusions in the hall, Catra let nary a whimper escape, despite the throb from her left arm. Unbidden, a small part of her mind decided now was the perfect time to ruminate on every single time the Horde Witch got her midnight claws on her. Of course, it was drowned out by the larger part of her mind hoping -̸̮͔͓̠́̽ḃ̷̫̹̱̀̏͌͝͝ȩ̵̪̣̽̇̓g̵̛̘̈́̑̾ģ̸̛̰̞͍̪̈́̓͝͝i̴͇̜̣̒̐͑͗̑n̷͔̥̦̤̔̓͜g̶̙͔̱̍͠-̵̳̪͍͂̔͑p̷͓̺͍̟̒͗͛͒̆͠ľ̸̦̲͋͒̎͗̄e̶̻̯͘͝a̴̪̪͈͕͔͒̈́̎̿͆̋d̵̰̱͎̹͆̎̑í̴̖̱͗̐͂͠n̴͔̜͚͖̮̽̽̂́̎̓g̷̙͇̙͌͂́̂̀͗ͅ she could be stealthy -̷̨̺̭͚͖̰̿̊̏͊͠h̶̡̞̹̘̿́̃͌̚i̴̪̭͉̜̻̮̾͗̈͂͘d̸͕̲͎̞͋̃d̸̹̱͎̋̀ḛ̸̪͚͙͖̦̈ņ̵͔̪͒̋̾̍-̷͉̱̠̽̊̍͛͘͜l̴̢̖̖͓͚̝̽̐̑̒̕e̶̝͗͆̔͝f̴̡͎͎̱͈̽̃̎̑͊ṱ̴͈̲̦̘̆͌̔̑̄̿-̸̳̈̊͋ḁ̴̪͊l̵̼̱̔̊͑ǫ̶̨͎̮̍̏͐͜ṇ̶͙̹͖̯̒̀̎e̷̼̽̈́͊̚-̶̙̜̘̙̇ͅ ̶̛̦̗͚͓͍̈̾p̸͔͍͊͐͛̀̕l̵̢̖̼̞̎͌͛͝ͅe̸̢̼̭̞͈͎̍́a̴̖͚̿s̸̩͕̹̙̬̬͊͊̿̎̒͝e̷͇͇͂̅͠.̵̺̬̱̖̬̋́̃̓̆͝. enough.

           Catra swore Shadow Weaver would find her through heartbeat alone with how hard hers was beating. Waiting as she drew ever closer, pressing herself as far back as she could, she saw Shadow Weaver walk right next to the strut she was hidden in…

           …And amble right past. Turning to scramble through the open hatch, Catra squeezed her way through the maintenance tunnels. As she ignored the fading sound of stomping boots and shouts of orders, she worked her way closer to the skiff dock. Carefully undoing the screws with her claws, she slinked her way towards where she knew the skiff keys were kept. Kneeling to pick the lock, she just barely kept her ears sharp enough to hear for any approach over the sound of her own beating heart. Feeling the cylinder turn as the keys and pins gave way, she allowed herself a light snort as she snatched the starter key for the nearest skiff. 

           Catra felt a pulse at the edge of her mind moments before turning to see a lone sentry. Pausing to mentally kick herself, she dodged just as the guard lunged. Delivering a hard stomp to the knee, she ran to the skiff and hopped on, gunning it like a bat out of hell. 

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           The whine of the skiff could be heard throughout the field as the terrain shifted from the dead ground and sickly grass of the Frightzone to the healthy stretch of lush fields before the Whispering Woods. 

           Catra's ears perked up as she heard another pair of engines just as she passed the tree line. Panic gripped her heart in its gnarled clutch as she banked and curved through the trees, barely keeping up with its labyrinthine twists and turns. Her arm pulsed once more as her breath began to pick up.

The pitched whine o̶̬̖͇̪̫͛̔͠͝f̷̣̩̂̂͝ ̷͙͎̊͆a̵̠̮̜̮̞̐̀͆͌̀ ̷̡̯͖͔̓̉͜s̷͈̠̞̪̝̀̔͐k̷̮̤̘͊ĩ̶̫̠̪̩͆͋f̶̬̿̓͠f̵͓͠ ̵̨̻̫̬̆n̸͓̓̆͝o̵̖̰͘ ̷̠͓͒͊͂͠l̶̮̬̮̜̳̋ǫ̴͎̩̒͂͑͗͘n̵̪̅͐̏̋g̴͇̦͇̤̿͋̅̌͠e̸̲͔̹̳̓r̷̗̮͍͆̔̋̐̂ ̵̛̺͖́̅ú̵͕͚͝p̴̧̙͂͂͛͝r̴̙͐͂i̷͕̥̰͑̾̈͜g̸̭͗̇̇͝h̷̛̼̅̎͆̂t̶͎̯͔͚̝͊,̴̣̗̉͒̓͠ ̷̩̉ͅḿ̷̰̫͚͛̈́ȩ̸̳̖̼̪̏̋ṯ̷̲̄̈ȁ̶̫̟͖͋̕͠l̸͔̇͗͝ ̷̯̋s̸̗͍̬̫̽h̷̢̜͇̦͐͌̚̚é̶̢̪̼̞̾à̵̞͎́͗̚̚r̶̡̧̭̖͌̌̐̓͠ï̴̭̠̞̻̩n̸̼͆́͑ģ̴̻̽̕ͅ ̵̝̦̭̳͐̄̽ͅa̸̢̫͎̘̤̒͒̚̚g̵̨̫͎̏́̃ä̴̝́̈́̾̍i̵̢̟̲̿̈́͑͗͜n̸̼̠̾̐͝͝s̵̜͕̽̑̍͗t̵͓̹̹͉̄̎ ̴͎̏͑á̵̠͉͙̖n̵̡̛̙͚͋̊̇̓ ̸͇̫͊͐̇u̷̢͚̫̜̟̒̒̆n̸̽͑̓̈͝ͅf̸̩̖̎́͐͝ở̴͚̰̮̮͔r̵̨͙͈̭̱̾g̴̪̰͔̞͑̉ͅi̴̝͖͉͗̋ͅv̸̛͙͙̔͑̕ỉ̶̪̣̞͍̚n̵̡̧̝̬͔̾̕g̵̱̦͉̊̀͜ ̷̹̜̄̂̚e̵̲͘ǹ̵͓̋͋͋v̸͙̗̦̻̏̾i̶̻͙̥̺̦̇̂̚r̸͙̲̆̀ơ̶̻̭̬̌͗͒͘n̸̥͇̿̌͂̋͒ḿ̷̛̘̲̠̈́̾̋e̶̗͔̯̟͈̓̅̒n̸̩̣̠̩͐̒t̸̟͗̚͝

           She jumped, snagging a tree branch as she went, landing on a branch just her skiff caught on an outcrop and crashed. The smoke from Catra's skiff obscured the sight of the first pursuit group, causing them to snag a branch and slam into a tree, taking them out of the hunt. 

           Catra immediately began running with no true direction in mind, following the strange tug in her heart. 

           After running herself ragged, picking up her pursuers some while ago, a lucky shot from a rifle baton sent her crashing to the ground. Seeing the state of her left arm immediately left her internally scoffing at her own chance of survival, its sickly, purple infection showing no chance of survival without immediate treatment, medicinal or otherwise. Weakly raising her head to see she had crashed into a camp in a clearing, she let out a rasped, " Help… " before succumbing to injury and exhaustion, the stomp of boots escorting her to the land of unconsciousness, a ragged swordsman and masked stranger approaching her weakened form…

Chapter Text

1010 I.D. 

Homen's pov:

DWWOOOO DWWOOOO DWWOOOO

           For a mostly automated ship relying on the skill of one former Imperial-Guard-turned-Sith-turned-Jedi, his sarcastic astromech, one teenage Chadra-Fan who runs on chocolate and the Force, and Homen, who was just there to hold all the heavy things in place while Ronin, Lem, and B5-56 worked on them, they were doing pretty decent at not exploding. 

           "Ronin! What's the status of the hyperdrive!?" barked Juro from the bridge, the view screen incapable of displaying the full tension in his posture at the command chair. Ronin, who was currently fixing the unstable energy fluctuations as he sensed their increasing danger, was unable to respond due to the three tools he was holding with his jaw. Lem Fao, mildly less occupied, replied, "Good news: With sufficient duct tape, prayer, and the Force, we shouldn't die immediately! Bad news: no clue what happens next."

           Homen personally thought that the guarantee of survival would have been nice, but he knew he threw that away decades ago, when he heard Juro's impassioned speech of a light shining for all the galaxy to see. Still, as the ship rocked from the attacks of Masago's Heir, not running much better from their previous encounters, he did wish things were be a little less hectic. "Compatriots, we must flee to the library! It's one of the few places the Margrave could afford to reinforce against the threat of the vacuum!" Ronin, deeming the poor patch job the best he could do under such circumstances, spat out his tools and barked, "Lem, B5, come!"

           The three Jedi tore through the halls of the Hawk-bat, plucky astromech at their heels. Homen closed the door and turned to the in-system communication. After confirming with the others that everyone was in a designated compartment, he slammed the button to drop the blast door, sealing them in. Not a moment later he felt the ship's shudder in his bones.

           "Hmm." mumbled the Ronin, rubbing his jaw prosthetic. "Y'know," exclaimed Baqo'aton'gaesto (he insists on Kato), "When what is essentially the chief engineer says 'Hmm' after such a shuddery jump to hyperspace, it's not a big relief." Homen just sighed, slumping down into a chair with all the decorum he could be bothered muster after the past 6 hours. He noted Fox there as well, as Ronin ambled over to a freshly set game of Shogi. Sensing the others safe in their own locations, as well as the lack of imminent death, Homen set his head against his arms..just to close… his….eyes……

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           Flickering back awake at the mental nudge from Fox, their still mask a mirror to their presence in the Force, like a pond on a windless day. "Come friend," said the Traveler, "Juro has summoned us to the bridge." Homen nodded, standing firmly to expel the stiffness from his bones. 

           A harsh clatter filled the room as Kato lay sprawled on the floor, clearly still not used to the cybernetics that went below his mid-thighs. A scowl adorning the young teen's features, he growled, "Damned traitor made a mistake when he left me alive." Homen offered a hand, warm concern gracing his face. Kato took it, bandages on the left part of his face doing no good to cover the glowing blush on his right. "Revenge must not be the reason behind your strikes," said Homen as they walked towards the bridge. "If you do cross Tsubaki again, he must be defeated and brought in for his own crimes." "Easy for you to say," muttered Kato, anger backing down to a demure simmer, "You don't need help walking 50 meters." "I never said revenge wouldn't be a consequence of his actions, just that he has a great number of crimes to face, your injustice included." replied Homen, sending a wave of sympathy in the Force.

           As they arrived near the bridge, Homen took note of the increasing feelings of shock and worry. Stepping in, it took Homen a moment to get the problem. There was the greater vacuum of space, more space, and……and an utter lack of stars. "B5, where are we, exactly?" he asked, addressing the Ronin's usually plucky astromech. "He says telemetry sensors…fail to place us anywhere in the known galaxy." the Ronin said, managing to hide the tremor in his own voice impressively.

           A feeling of despair pervaded the air as the implication set in, the fear in the back of every spacer's head realized as the crushing weight of isolation made itself known. Only the resolve of those more experienced through age or great hardship kept the occupants of the Hawk-bat from going off to panic, like a beacon in the abyss. "Ethan," said Juro, as though it were any other lesson, "take a moment. Center yourself in the force and stretch outwards. Tell me what you feel."

           Ethan, looking very much the part of a particularly nervous Lothcat, shakingly obliged. With an exhale, he stood, listening, feeling, searching, for that thing that only those around him would know. Eyes shooting open, he exclaimed, "Life!"

           With a nod, Juro continued, "Yes, about a day's travel here. Sensor reports indicate that we should be fine, but if it's a planet, re-entry may be a problem."

           "How so?" inquired Kouru, tension in her body indicating she knew she wouldn't care for the answer she got. Juro turned to her, stating, "Simply put, should wherever we land not be sufficiently along the art of space travel, the odds of getting this ship out of the atmosphere again diminish greatly." 

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Juro's pov:

           Juro massaged his temples, the lack of any immediately pressing issues allowing the stress of events to catch up to him. He had been planning to prep the ship for reentry, but just about everyone demanded he go to the safety of one of the reinforced bunkers and allow the system to handle it. On the joking threat of mutiny from Zhima and Homen, he agreed, following the former to the general quarters where his daughter, 99-99, and the Yasaburo clan were located. Anra was also there, but the rumble from her sleeping form indicated she wasn't going to be much for conversation.

           "Are we finally making planet fall?" asked Lop, the poor girl having few pleasant memories of long times spent on ships. The old ex-king gave a quiet smile and a light nod. Yasaburo reached out to comfort his daughter, ruffling her hair and saying, "Chin up, Lop. I have a good feeling about this planet. It feels like a breath of fresh air next to all this empty nothing." Ocho, the elder sibling, coughed, "cough-Ord-Mantell-cough." Kara coughed into her hand to disguise a chuckle while Juro gave a wry smile. Yasaburo jokingly clutched his heart, laughing, "From my own daughter!"

           The merriment of the moment was interrupted by a harsh rattling as the Hawk-bat descended the upper atmosphere. They sighed in collective relief as the ship finally stabilized. 

A growing rumble, as stabilizers within the starboard engine gave out.

CRA-CRA-CRA-BOOM

           Juro broke into a dead sprint towards the bridge, already attempting to mentally account for how the hell he'd a ship with half as many engines. 

"Ronin! Status!"

"Starboard engine detonation ruptured lines to most starboard landing thrusters!"

"Prepare to reroute power to port landing thrusters on my mark!"

"Ready!"

           "Hold!" barked Juro, the roar of the ship filling his head. He closed his eyes, inhaling. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. Allowing himself to feel the flow of the moment, hand hovering just over the controls.

wait

wait

wait

Now/"NOW!"

Chapter Text

1010 I.D.

Ronin's POV

           "Oi," F sharply stated, "if you're not dead, the Margrave's calling for a meeting in the library." 

           Shaking off the dust and taking a moment to draw on the Force to chase the aches from his body. "Isn't the bridge where we meet?" he asked, wincing while he rubbed his jaw. F snorted, retorting, "The library currently isn't hanging from the top of the ship with cables and hope." Taking a moment to notice he was in the med-bay and not the engine room, a familiar frown graced his face. "Lem and B5?" He inquired with no inflection, his presence in the Force reflecting his concern. "Fine and waiting for us." replied F, mildly gentler.

           "I have bad news and news." Juro started. "Isn't it g–ugh" began Kato, only to be interrupted by Anra's lower left arm in his ribs. Juro gave an imperceptible nod and continued. "As it stands, the Hawk-bat is currently lodged in a mountain. The other news is that there does seem to be sentient life on the planet. Reviewing the black box recording showed that we passed various villages." Seeing that the nearest town wasn't terribly far, Ronin stated, "I'll go." "I'll come along." Said Fox, equally versed in travel. 

           Juro nodded, "Very well. The rest of us will stay here and set up watch, assuage any potential visitors."

           Packs and sabers ready, Ronin and Fox set out towards the village. As they went, the Traveler noted, "All the planets we've visited, an excess of moons and lack of sun just seem to slip right by."

"Hmm."

"Do you think Rei'izu was somewhere like this?"

"Maybe."

           Side by side, Ronin felt a comfortable silence blanket them. Somewhere along the line, Fox had grabbed his flute and, accompanied by B5's musically inclined beeps, played a little ditty relaxing enough to have the Ronin catching himself humming. Relishing the silence in his own mind, he stretched out in the Force, noting the presences of Fox and B5, as well as the odd charge of the planet. Clearing the trees to a road and stretch of plains, Ronin could vaguely see a hint of civilization at the horizon, and a wanderer far closer.

           Glancing towards Fox and receiving a subtle nod, the trio moved onwards towards the village and the traveler. As they passed each other, Ronin sent out a wave in the force, and caught the traveler before they hit the ground. Skimming through their thoughts like the top of a bowl of soup, Ronin lurked until he found the thread of conscience linked to language. A language of borrowed things and merriment settled in his head, he woke the poor soul he needed to borrow the tongue from. 

           "Took a bad fall there, but you should be alright." He said, gruff voice honeyed only by the Force. The wanderer, to there credit, blinked in confusion for a moment before accepting this whole heartedly. "So sorry kind strangers, I'm normally never this clumsy." the wanderer replied sheepishly. 

"No trouble. Happen to know where the nearest town is?"

"Of course! Just where I'd been coming from but you'll want to take a left-no, silly me, a right-at the fork in the road. Rosetown's just over the horizon. Best tulips in all of Etheria!"

           Ronin just nodded and sent the merry traveler on his way. "I caught none of that, but people say music is life's greatest teacher," Fox said, grin apparent through their mask, "so you pick a little diddy and I'll get to learning." Ronin, not at all mortified, sang the tale of an old spacer crew hunting an exogorth through a spaceship graveyard. Following that, Fox could help along the chorus of an old Mando song about a gunslinger bringing in a rogue Jedi. By the time they reached the town, an impressive array of huts and mud buildings, they were well into a quiet discussion about what they could do in the event they would require lightsaber repair.

           "'Excuse me," proclaimed Fox, "would you happen to know where my partner and I might stop for a drink?" One of the townspeople said, "Yeah, just need to head down to the center of the town." Fox thanked him and the trio continued through the village until they stumbled upon the bar, open air with a tented roof to avoid the mid-daymoon heat. Settling for a seat against a pole, Ronin set down B5's hat as Fox began to play a toon. 

           Giving off the airs of a resting man, Ronin gathered what he could from the chatter in the bar. Minor rebel camps had taken to banditry and extortion on some of the off roads. The Horde managed to make some form of push into rebel territory, with squabbles as to whether that area belonged to Plumeria or not. Fear of the Horde doing what they did to the Runestone Duchies and Scorpion Kingdom again. Murmurs over a strange object falling from…

           Ronin's eyes snapped open as he glanced around the bar. Grunting to himself, he emptied the contents of his droid's straw hat into a purse, noting that his lightsaber and B5-56 seemed to be drawing the most attention. He and Fox began their trek back towards the Hawk-bat, taking care to keep themselves in everyone's mental periphery. 

           Crossing back into the tree line as the sky darkened, the trio stopped as night blanketed the forest. Using the Force to assemble the necessary sticks and stones into a campfire, Ronin gently poked his auxiliary sabre blade into the wood until it caught. Resting against a tree with Fox resting against him, he gave watch duty to B5, giving lackluster rebuttal to the droid's sarcasm. He drifted off to the beat of Fox's heart and B5 steady whir.

*******************************

           A quick meal and a kicked over fire later, and Ronin and Fox were ready to get back to the Hawk-bat. Until a small, near-human cat teen fell from the trees with the worst infection on an arm Ronin had seen. A murmur for help was all she managed before she slumped over, a wreck. 

           Just as Ronin and Fox neared, a small cadre of armored men burst from denser foliage. "Cease in the name of Lord Hordak! This traitor is to be brought back for desertion!" "Desertion? The girl can't be more than 14." Replied Fox with a fake blitheness. The leader of the five snapped his baton out, preparing to strike Fox for their perceived insolence. They nimbly dodged out of the way, shoving their assailant away through the Force.

           Following their leader's example, two rushed Ronin while a recovered squad leader charged Fox with backup. Ronin mentally scoffed at their sloppy form, pulling his left back as a soldier swung down with more force than technique. Sheath auxiliary in his off hand, he drew and slashed his lightsaber in the same move, cutting through armor and soldier alike with ease. Gazing at the second attacker, he lunged, blade bisecting both man and blocking weapon. Glancing towards Fox, he saw three bodies and Fox standing down from their ready stance. 

           Gaze flickering back towards the girl, he began to worry. The infection in that arm reminded him of horrid practices he tried to stamp out in his own ranks. Clearly, he missed a few. Knowing he couldn't allow his own failure to result in death, no matter the stranger, he scooped the girl into his arms, setting off towards the Hawk-bat with a greater urgency than when they'd left.

Chapter Text

1010 I.D

Lop's POV

           Sighing, Lop took a moment to dangle from a branch and stretch the ache out of her legs before crouching back into her branch. She knew there was seating more comfortable on the Hawk-bat, but she just couldn't idle around the stranded ship. Regardless, she was grateful for the opportunity to get out of the derelict ship and get some air. As much as she loved her sister, it was still awkward to be around Ocho sometimes. TD-4 nestled on her head, she settled in, inching closer to a meditative peace.

Snap

           Jumping from her branch and rapidly turning, lightsaber burning with a solid snap-hiss , to face…nothing. Releasing a breath of tension, she shook her head in disappointment at her quickness to attack. "Jaxxa, dearie, how are you?" Allow it to be known that Lop acted in a very dignified manner and most certainly did not shriek whilst drawing her lightsaber. "Come, dearie, no need for weapons! Madame Razz brought your favorite pie." Said the strangely cheerful old lady.

           Quickly regaining her dignity, Lop stowed her lightsaber while responding, "I'm sorry ma'am, I think you have the wrong -" "Nonsense, dearie, we were talking by the gardens just a…," Razz interrupted before trailing off. "Oh, Lop! You aren't supposed to be here! You were just at the village with the others."

           Not quite sure how to answer that, Lop opened her mouth to try to respond to that fresh can of worms before her ears picked up running footsteps. As her head snapped to where those might be coming from, she snapped back to notice Razz was gone, not even sensing her in the Force. Feeling the hurried, tense approach of Ronin and Fox, she ran back towards the ship to give warning in advance, knowing that sickly presence she felt needed every second.

           Her arrival gave them little time to set the med-bay in order, which she was kicked out of, Anra wanting neither the patient nor herself to be crowded. Failing to find peace in her earlier meditation, she instead went to the training room. Stopping by the library, she grabbed the holocron on blaster deflection for Ataru. 

           Arriving at the training room, she noted Kato making progress in his exercises, while F and Ethan dueled. Kneeling down in a sequestered portion of the room, she turned her focus to the holocron, paying rapt attention to the knight of times past. Standing to put the lesson she had reviewed once more to practice, she drew her saber with a snap-hiss, standing ready before the training droids. 

           As the two training remotes increased the speed and variety of their shots, Lop found herself dodging and weaving as much as she was batting away bolts.

T̵̨̰͙̓̽̿̓͋̈̕ͅh̷̥̗͉͔̬̱̃̔̾e̴̫̜͕̘̿͜ͅ ̸̞̽̆̉̔̃̕͝͝c̵̲̓̾͗̀̏̕ŕ̶̻̖̋̔̂̒̽͘a̶̡̼͌̄͌c̴̛̤̻͙̩̋͂̐̊͂̎͘k̷̛̳̪͉͓̤̉͆̈́͛̒̍͜͠l̸̳̩̪͍̰͓̜̒̋̾͗̂̐̃̕ḯ̶̥͈̽́̄͑n̶̢̰̼͙͚̣̫̍͝g̷̢͉͈͆͊̉͋͘̚ͅ ̷̭̰̝͛́̿̀͛̋ͅo̵̦͍̠͕̣͌͑̊̆͗́͂f̶̨̩̲̮̱̤͎͊͒̽̾́ ̶͉̦̇̇͐̉̎̋͠f̵̟̽̌̂͆̆̽į̸̠̺͈̭̉̽̑́͐̓̓̚r̵̫̰͖͋̃̈́̂̽ë̷͔̞̖͎͙͕̗̼́,̸̖̅ ̵̜̺̲̺̿̃͝g̶̛͚͆̒̿͂̈r̸͍̺̘͎̘̒͋̋̀̿ĕ̸̢̮̫̇̒͐ȇ̶͔͉͂̈́͑n̸̨͖͖̣͕̞͉̳͌͛ ̵̡̨̞̳̤͍̈́̅a̷̛̝̞̗̲̦̋̌̒̔̃̀͠ņ̵̞̯̖̖̫̦́̈́ͅd̷̪͚͙̦̝̘͕́̅͝ͅ ̴̨͓̙̱̏o̵̗̬̼͆͛̽͑̃̾͠͝ͅr̴̺̱̹̼̖̦͍̪̈́a̵̙͎͔̲̲̰̫̓͆̀n̵̠̖̙͇͕̠͆̈́̑̆̋̈͐g̷͔̼̘͙͐̀́̊̈ë̵̘͍̣́̅͆̀̅͌̍ͅͅ ̶̡̛̥̜̝̗̿͒͒̌ͅw̵̤͔̠͂̈͌̇̏̑̕e̸̩̣̦͓̻͌̄̈̅͒̚a̴̢̻̘͍̓͝v̴̧͎͕͈͆i̴͍̬͆̑̊̀̿̊̚͝ņ̸͍̖̙̣̲̓͜ͅg̴̛͚͛̍͑̇͘͝ ̴̨̮̙̟̞̒͆̌̑͌a̸̻̒̀̓̚ ̸̢͉̳̪͔͕͊͋̌͑ͅs̵̩̹̱̱͙̳͔͎̋̒͊̕͘h̴̰͉̣͙̬̬͑ȋ̷̘̼̬͎̉̀̃e̷̛̯͖̙̊̄̐́͘̕l̶͕͈̗̬̉́̊ḏ̸̊̀̓̈́̚̚͝…̴̳́̋̊̎̔͝͠

           Lop winced and grit her teeth as a training bolt slipped past her guard and zapped her in the forearm. At some point she had moved to one of the higher platforms, not even aware as she gave her all in enduring the growing flow of training bolts.

Ǵ̶̨̱̭͚̫͛̒̿̇̚͝ŗ̴̬̝̜͎̮͗͛̌̍̇̈́͝ę̸͓͂ẽ̶̢͔͔̫̆́͝n̵̝̦͉̗̗̈̀͋̈́̀͛͒͝ͅ ̷̺̝̠̝̲͉͈̆̓́͆̒͗̎a̸͚̼̦̓͊n̷̡̐̎d̶̯̱͇̫̎ ̸̘̖̃̑̏̈́ŏ̸̧̙̳̙͍̑̒̚r̶̭̞͔̫͍̼̹̊̾̀̔̅̄͠ǎ̸̭̞͖̟̼͂̇̌ņ̵̨̲̙̽̅̽͆̀͐̈́g̶̢̧̞̜̠̼̔͐̾̄͋̔͠e̶̪̍̂̂̊͑ ̶͖̣̖̰̘̎̀̈́͌͘a̸̡̢͚̯̯̮̥̋g̷̢̳͙̘͎̟̱̀͐̾̇͐ả̵̡̰̱̋̐̚͜͠i̸͙̮̫̝͘n̶̜̤͈̬͒͒͊̉̈̌͘̚,̴̡̛͇̜͔͚̃̃̚ ̵̹̝̘̜̿̔̑̕p̴̖̦̗͝ṙ̸̹̒̾͘o̷͖̠̘̜̘͌̓͐͠d̴̡̺̊͋ḑ̶͍̘̃̃̅̚i̴̭̾̄̆͜͝n̵͈̦̪̩͇̫͊̑̔͒͘͝ǵ̸͇̄͆̂͘͠ ̶̧̟͕̤͈̻̤͌̐͜a̸̧̭̠̩͎͋͐̋̄̃͠ͅn̴̨͓͚̰̬͐̽̓͆̍̎̓d̶̥̒̂́̏ ̴̰̫̦̳̠͋͠ͅp̷̯̜̭͓̂̈͋́̍̕̚͜r̷̠͎̀̉o̶̢̡̲͙̤͐̌͆͂͂b̵̧̨͚̗̙̭͙̜̐̊̅̕i̴̧̺̣̪͒͑̊̏͛n̶̪̦̲̟̭̬͖̅g̸̯̘͍̬̤̏͗͌͊̂̉̕͘ ̷̟̼̩̭̯̭͑̆̄͊͜ͅd̸̛̰̒̑̈́͛͝e̶̛͇̻̜̟̳͋̓̀̏ḟ̴̻͚̫͕̫͚̠͍͑̿́e̵̪̦̞͐̿n̵̢̨̻̭̺̱̞̹̎̄̾s̶̢̘̠̮̅̏͠ę̶̛̛̛͒́̕s̷͖̣̱̘̯̯̉̒̀ ̵̗̞͚̭̄̀̀̂̐̋̽͝b̴̥̆̓ę̶̏̾͌̿͛͗͗f̵͓̺̦͓͉͒̊̎͘͜o̶̧̪̜͍͎̥͛̅̈́̐̒͑r̴͔͔̹̱̬̬͑̀͛̈̌͌̾͝ͅè̸̜͗͗ ̷̛͕̜̉̔̈̆̉͆ḃ̸̩̮̤̗̬͎̋̔̆͜͠ų̴̧̧̧̪̥̩̗̾i̴̡̻̅̃͒̅̓̉̕͜͝l̶̛͈͔̲̇͒͐̓̕͝d̶̨̫̥̜̤̂͐̿̿͘͜ì̵̪̰̹̼́n̴̲̹̳͍͋̍g̸̠̥̉̊̂̕͘͝ ̵̹̪͆̿̊͗̀͝t̷̡̡̩̥̟͕̄͌̑̇̅̂͋̌ǫ̴̢̥͈͉͖̙̈́̋͋̏̈́͂͜͝ ̵̨͓͉͍̲̮͖͆̈́́͠á̷̦͓̟̦̗̮̜͂͝͝ͅ ̶̹̦̭̳̿̑̎͒͊f̵̩͇̼̝̫̟͍͇̌̔̒̀̓ṳ̵̡͔̾̎̃ŗ̸͍͚̺̣̇̍y̸̪̪̺͉̯̖̔͘͜ ̵͎̞͖̙͊͛õ̸̟̠̺̺̭̻̃̋̑́f̸̞̼̓̈́̔͆͆͝ͅ ̷̢̓͘c̶̺̣̫̤̙̤̔̎̌̅̕ḻ̷̨̰̻͔̼̆̔̾ͅa̶̛̻̜̿͛̊͑̊s̶̩̼̘͙̱̼̥̲̍́͆́͛̀̒͂h̷̹̣̟͖̬̜̄̊̌͠ȅ̵̱̘͓͕̼̏́̈́̈́̈́ͅŝ̷̱…̵̪͎̫͆͊͜

           Two separate bolts slipped through her guard, slamming into her left ribs and right knee. She tumbled to the floor, a THUMP-pop echoing through the room. Before her lightsaber had come to a rest, Ethan and F were at her side. Cradling her left arm, she was helped along to the med-bay, Kato close behind with her lightsaber. As they arrived, Anra looked up and simply let out a sigh. 

           Anra dismissed the dueling pair and Kato sat to rest legs. Lop settled down on a table, wincing at every movement that jostled her arm, she gazed over to the stranger Ronin and Fox had brought to her left. Even unconscious as she was, she had all the same feeling as an overly stretched spring, ready to snap. 

pop

           "Gah!" she exclaimed with a wince. "A little warning would have been nice!" Anra scoffed, her top two sets of arms crossed while the bottom set rested on her hips. 

"Please, normally I'd have to distract somebody before setting their arm back in place, but you did that just fine yourself."

"Wh-I was just worried about that girl! How are you going to treat her arm? It feels like a disturbance in the Force."

           Anra sighed, "I-I…I don't know. Most of the healing techniques I know have only slowed down whatever's working through her arm, but that's it. I'm not nearly prepared enough to even think about trying any of the sparingly few techniques from the sith holocrons." Her teeth clicked together, chelicerae twitching in distress. 

           Lop patted the disheartened medic's shoulder, managing to suppress a wince from her still sore shoulder. "Well it's not as if she'll be lacking for any choice in spares." said Kato, knocking on his own legs. "Kato!" Anra sputtered while Lop blanched. He winced, holding his hands in surrender.

           Anra sighing, said, "The best we can do most likely is amputation. Preferably with less patients here. Kato, keep up the acclimation exercises and come straight here if you feel any chafing or heat. Lop, ice down your shoulder and take care to avoid any strenuous activity." 

           As Lop and Kato walked out the med-bay, he sucked through his teeth and asked, "So, what'cha see that put you on the ground?"

"I don't really know . I saw green and orange lightsabers, first working together, then fighting."

"Hmm. Tri~cky. Never really know on those kinds of visions. Want my advice, one apprentice to another?"

"I don't doubt I'd wind up hearing about it anyway."

"Ouch. Anyhow, think for the future; focus on the now. Most vague visions that don't have to do with imminent danger tend to be vague enough that just about anything could happen. I'd keep your guard up though, only you, Juro, and Kara are packing green."

           Lop gave a noncommittal grunt as she mulled it over. Even after she and Kato split paths, she still couldn't help but mull over what little she saw. As she entered the part of the ship where her family resided, she saw her father listening to an old speech decrying one conflict or another, while Ocho was busy soundly losing a game of Dejarik to TD. "Hey, sis-what happened to your shoulder?!" asked her sister, general boredom replaced by sororal worry. 

           "I-I'm fine! I just took a bad fall during some training and Anra fixed it right up!" exclaimed Lop, choosing to omit her vision for now. Speech paused to address his daughter, Yasaburo stated, "Well, take the time to rest and recuperate. Reflect on this new place in the Force." 

           "I was just thinking of taking a naaaap." Lop said, swallowing a yawn at the end. Her father nodded while going back to his speech. "Feel up for a game after you get up?" inquired her sister, not noticing TD setting up his finishing moves. She nodded in the affirmative, giggling as Ocho turned back to mope when she saw the trap TD had prepared. 

           Lightsaber set at her bed, she gently laid down to avoid any unnecessary jostling. Turning it over in her head once more as she drifted off, she saw eyes she wouldn't remember when she woke, a crushing grief disguised with contempt and hate.

Chapter Text

1010 ID

Catra's pov

B̶̙͎͖͉̻̖͛̅̕l̵͍͌ȗ̴̧̲̭̻̠͈̐̉͂͝ȩ̴̠̘̣̎͒̃̆̕͜͝͝͝ ̸̡̠͇̤͖̜͂̑̂̓͜ę̵̢͔̹̙̬͍̃̋̓y̸̨̪͖̪̭̰͑̍͛̉̈́͘ę̴̱͉̮̪̬͇̰̌̅͒̀s̶̢̞̮̭͔̹̪̫̽͐͗̂͝-̸̛̺͔͚̓͘l̷͇̻͌̍͋͝o̴͈̥̱͇̯̘͊̏̂̌̌͝v̸̨̠̱͕̖̒̔̓̎̍͜͝ȩ̶͖̝̠̃́̄̿̑̊̔͒-̵͙̞̉̈́̇͂̓c̸̼̰͕̬̹̥̭̙̊̃͝ó̸͍̥̯͍̌̓̈̈́͘ṉ̷̭͙̱̾̀̾̈́̈́c̵̳̤̣̰͈̮̦͎͌̀̉ẽ̷̛͎̃̆͒͌͠r̶̲̥̀̌͊͜n̸͎̣̦̞͖̱͒̌̌̆͆̆́/̷̨̤̣̖͔͚̓̀̂̿̅̌̄̚a̴̤̯̜͇̰͎͑̅͌̆̍̈̀ͅ ̶̡̧̥̤̩̦̦̫͂͐̐͂͂t̷̢̮͔̜͈̏̎̈́̿̕͜͠h̸̗̐̒̔͆͠o̴̖̲͍͕͉̪̾̚̚͝ů̶̞͓̤̺̼́̇̓̏̉s̶̨͓͇̖͙͂̑̾̽̕̚͝͝ä̷̹͙̣̦̪̗̖́͐ņ̴̢̟̲̈́d̵͇͉̫̜̙̹̈́̑̎̏̉͛ ̵͍̘͎̤̯̦͛̑̎͜r̷̮̎͂̀͗͒́a̸͚̹͌͑̓̂̊̒͒w̵̭̱̣͆̍̚ ̶̹̉̓̑̉͋̃̈́c̵̛̻̍͊̽͌͗͘u̵̗͎̝͙̎̉̊t̶̨͔͗ş̷̠̱̘̭̪̱͌ ̸̗͉̺͚̙̻͋́̈́͗̑͘͘͝ǫ̷̡̯̗͔̆̉̎̈́f̸̖̫͈̣̯̭͕͒̓̆͂͠ͅ ̴̢͉̍p̶̧̡̤͔̄̓â̸̺̗̝̜̊̽i̵̝͚̩̹̹̱̞͂͑̿̈́̆͑̀n̵̙̼̆̔͆̀̎͗͠

B̴̬͇̗̺͖̣́̑l̷̡̧̟͚̤̎̌̄̽u̸̢̨͉̯̝̟̖̺̇̂̆̈͋̍͑e̶͕͕̓̈́̎̍̌̀̔̚ ̷͖͑͌̏̂ȩ̴̱̺̜̫̅́͒͂̾̕͝͝y̵͖͎̙͖̯͒̐͒̒e̴̡̙̻̥̳̮͗́͋̽͝͠ṣ̸̟̤̫͚͒̒-̷̗͖̰̟̜̱̬̒͌̊̀̋̓̈́͘͜à̴̬̺̠̘n̶̡̲̝͐͋̽͠ͅģ̵̲͔̖̮́̈́̃̋͘ë̶̬́́̈́r̵̢͉̊͂͊͐̽-̶͓̝͕̣͐̔̅̌̋͜͝͝w̴̖̋̈͂̈̇̀ò̴̤̭̳̦̻̤̳̱r̴̩̘̫͍̈́̇̔̔̊͋̐͑ř̵͈̲͍͜͜ẙ̴̨̝̳͍̻̻̠̒̓͂̇/̶̜͍̯͎͙̀a̴̦̪͛ ̶͕̩̜̟̑̌f̸̢͔͊͘ḽ̷̥͇̹̜̫̖͖̍͛̓̇̑͑ǔ̴̟͇́̽̌͐͘ṙ̴̛̜͉̱̗̣͙͓̌̽͜r̸̨̠͙̖͎̐y̶͚̗͕͑̇̽͝ ̷̫̞͓͛̕o̴̲͇͋̈́͗̿̀f̵̧̝͚̣͖̺̻͌ ̴͖̀̇̑͘l̶͕͇̀̚͝i̶͕̫̤̺͐̑͗͘g̶͇̬̒̀̏͛́̊̄̈́ĥ̴̨̜̠͈̋͊̎̏͘͜t̶͕͇̪̺̬̪͂̅͌͒͜ ̸̛̺̰̜̟̭͉̘͋́̎̿̇̀ͅt̴̩̪̩͇̽o̵̧̲̩̩͉͕̾͆̈̿͋͜͝o̷̲͒̄ ̷̱̖̅̉̔̑͘͘f̵̘͉͖̯͕̝̻͒̒̾̈́̈́̐̚a̸̻̰̘̰̹̙̋̈́̐̑̽̔͘͠s̸̼͈̬͒́͐ṭ̵̨̛͚̹̼̲̖̜̽̒̑͝ ̸̳̯͚̻̗̭̺͌̃̕t̵̝͂̊̉̾ǫ̵̰̻̬̞̜͔͗̓̾̑́̈̓̃ ̴̧̨̹̪̲̗̪͂͗̎̆͘͜t̵̢̜̠͎̼͑͘ŗ̴̢̫̦̯̓a̷̫͖̱̤͌̕c̷̛͍͙͎̀̍̓͒͝k̴̤̦͕̀͆͘

           Catra awoke with a start, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. It felt like she was in the room with the Black Garnet again, frozen against her own will. Every attempt to pull herself out of this spiral just kicked her two steps back down. 

           Eventually, her cone of vision expanded while the thump-thump in her ears subsided enough to allow her to hear the gentle man at the foot of her bed.

-*-

           "Just take a deep breath for four seconds; hold it for seven" he said, a hand gesturing down, then clenching. "Now, exhale for eight." as he said this, his fist turned to a palm again as it flowed up. "Good. Now, again." Catra followed along, her breath flowing easier and easier with each repetition. 

           The man smiled, "Better?" Catra curled in on herself at her self-perceived weakness, before startling as she felt a foreign limb press against herself. Leaping in her bed, she realized that it was attached to her. "W-wh-what did you DO!?" the last part came out tense and harsh, as her new left arm clenched, somehow sending a tight feeling in her palm. 

           The man pursed his lips, speaking gently, "Your arm. Well, you had been poisoned, and the best we have on the ship is metal prosthetics, not vat grown." Teeth clenched, she let out a growl as she remembered the events leading up to that moment. " Masago. " A small part of her was pleasantly surprised when her new left hand had claws snick out at the same time as her right.

           The man smiled again, though this one was more tired and irritated. "Not entirely surprising. I'm Lah Zhima. And you'd be…" the self identified man tapered off, tone asking Catra to finish. "Catra," she said, huffing, "alright, cut the crap. How am I supposed to work this off?" The smith cocked an eyebrow before answering, "Nothing, especially considering the fact that you didn't exactly ask to lose it in the first place." she scoffed as he continued, "Although our medic would prefer to at least talk before you go, and I know the Margrave - Juro - would like to discuss something of great importance." 

           Catra just scoffed and turned away. After an entire childhood (if one could call living in terror without her one friend/ b̴̝̲͕́̈̆̈́l̸̟̞̅û̷̲̉̽͝ę̸̞͙̍̈́ ̷̦̌e̷͕̝̺̒̿y̶̖̫̾ẽ̷̛̥̺̗s̶̹̜̝̯̃͊ ) of living in the Horde, she'd come to learn people didn't just do things. She'd bet her tail that this Lah guy was just the carrot; whoever came next would be carrying the stick to threaten her with. He stood, and for the first time Catra could see the cylinder at his hip, certainly humbler than Masago's, but she was immediately even further on guard as he left. 

           Apparently she was slipping, because Catra hadn't noticed she'd fallen asleep until she was awoken by the scent of something herbal. Fully coming to, she hid just how startled she was to see a figure cloaked in black and an imposing mask. "You're finally awake. Eat. Drink." he said, gesturing to the set of teas and pastries. "Any conversation worth having shouldn't be on an empty stomach, especially this one." She tentatively reached for one of the pastries, nibbling the edge. Not noticing the slight slump in the masked man's shoulders, she did raise her gaze as she picked up on a slight hss-tunk , witnessing the mask reveal an elderly man, age evident around his eyes. A noticeable scar went over his right eye, from around the middle of his forehead to just above the nostril line. 

           As he wholly bit into a pastry of his, Catra turned to her own and ate away like she'd never seen food before, which, in a way, was true. Finishing their meals, the elder lay back in his chair and spoke, "In the interest of keeping things blunt, my name is Juro, Margrave of the Jedi order. If you choose to leave, we'll give you a loaded blaster, a knife, and 2 weeks of rations. However, should you choose to stay and uphold the Jedi way, you will be taught the ways of the Force."

"The Force?"

           The Margrave simply exhaled, clearly thinking. "Has something ever happened that you don't quite have the words for? Like remembering something before it happens, or just a sudden moment of clarity with the world around you?" Catra nodded, remembering hiding from Shadow Weaver and the skiff chase. "Well, that was the Force, granting a vision of the future, tuning you with the environment. And it's capable of much more." As he said this, he unclipped a cylinder from his waist, before leaving it in the air as it disassembled. 

"What's the catch?"

"The 'catch' is that you would have to live as a Jedi. You would defend the innocent and uphold the Code."

"And that would be…?"

"Emotion, yet peace.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Passion, yet serenity.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Death, yet the Force."

           Catra sat there, mulling over her own tumultuous thoughts. The Margrave stood, helmet in hand. "Well, take a while to think it through. Anra and Ronin should be along soon to see about your arm. Take care." With that, he exited the room, helmet latching with a thunk.

           Catra sat there, replaying the entire conversation in her head. Any time she had spoken to her 'betters' in the Horde, they made damn well sure she knew it. All of the soldiers of any rank worthwhile stated them as if they were first names. All the while, their voices would drip with condescension if anyone asked questions outside of "How high, Force Captain? Which cliff, Force Captain?" She had heard of Hordak's flights of rage, how his very presence stifled a room.

           But this 'Margrave' was… kind ? Any instructor would have accused her of insubordination for her questioning, but he just answered them as they came up, unbothered. Despite presumably being in charge, he was downright quiet when not answering questions. The helmet was an odd choice, shattered and held together by lines of silver, but she wouldn't be fit to judge an attachment to clothes. She chewed her lip as she went over it again.

*******************************

           She meandered through the halls late at night. It had been three days and the Margrave hadn't approached her again. Anra had led her to the mess and the gym, citing that it would be important she get used to the weight of her new arm. 

           Shocking amount of trust at the lack of escort aside, that wasn't why she was up in the first place. G̸̠̜͐ṛ̵͋ê̷̗̭̯e̸͇̎͐̊̉ͅṇ̴̅͛ ̸̖͉̏̋̀e̴͕̜̅̆y̸͇̳̅͒͝è̵̤̯̉̅͠s̴͈̺̲̋̽ͅ ̵̜̬̱͖̓̑̊m̸̢̞̬̽̆̅ͅớ̶͈r̶̖̦̣̙̈́̏p̶̨̝̳͊h̴͉͆i̷̧͙̯͐̋́n̵̥͋̈́̀g̸̤̱̟̯̎̓ ̷̮̭̱̑̈́̍i̵̛̬̪̩̓̄n̷̺͕͎͐̌̈t̸̖̖̀̇̀͠o̸̢̝͝ ̶̠̹̻͋̊̀̆ǎ̵̛̟̓ ̸̛͓̫̳͍͊̽s̵̩̾͑͐͠h̷͈͓͊͐́͝ǫ̶͍̋̀̂̿c̷̡̝̣̓̑k̵̖͓̝̭̎̈̀͝i̸͙̒͂͌͝n̶̖͓̹̓̽̕g̶̨̩̓̕ ̶̘̱͈̦̎̋̎y̷̛͜ḛ̴͗͌͆̆ĺ̸̢͖l̵̫̫̥̱̋̒̂̕ò̵̳̱͒͌w̴̘̭͖̫̾͑̊-̵͔̠͎̾͛I̸̯̫͆̎͑̋ ̵̱̫̥̖̇͌́̋p̸͖̰̭̾r̸͒͑ͅó̵̢̫̀͊m̸̘͛ï̸̜̭ͅs̶̟̲̈̐̀̌e̸̛̙̳͊̏̎. Nope, Catra was never used to the whole 'solid block of sleep' thing. She snuck out of the med-bay to go for a walk, though sneaking implied there were people keeping her th–

smack-smack

           " Unf! " uttered Catra as she was sent sprawling. She looked up to see a mildly inconvenienced Zhima offering a hand, concern etched on his tired face. She didn't take it, but she did give a courtesy nod as she stood, balance still off from her arm. "What's got you pacing the Hawk-bat at this tiiiime?" he asked, muffling a yawn at the end. "I, uh, don't sleep all at once," she said, hastily asking, "what about you?" He appeared to observe her question, knowing look in his eyes. "Too caught up in my work, my head."

           Walking side by side, Catra fidgeted as she pondered the Margrave's offer once more. As they neared the split where Catra would head off back to the med-bay and Zhima to a proper bed, Catra faltered. "Why did you join up?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for her bluntness. Zhima, having already stopped to turn and face her, pondered that question. "Well, the galaxy wasn't in a great place when Juro approached me. Neither was I, to be honest. Despite my skills in the forge, it was hard finding good work to support Kara and myself. When we talked, he explained things in a way that just… clicked . I finally understood a part of myself that I'd always attributed to talent, and when Kara started displaying the same odd proficiencies, we trained her as well." He looked at Catra with a sad smile, inquiring, "But that's not what you're asking, is it?" Catra just averted her gaze, fists clenched. "I may not be as proficient at reading people as Juro or even Ocho, but I can promise this. We won't hurt you to shape you. Some of us may be far more gruff than others, but ultimately, we want to help , and nobody can hurt someone to help them." 

           That same night, she lay in her cot, trying to draw connections, catch a lie. Anda was patient, if rather blithe in her demeanor. Ronin was gruff and stilted, asking "Like this?" and "now". Even the very air felt lighter, less charged with the tension of the proverbial second boot. 

           Later, in the morning, Catra went down to where the mess hall was. The Margrave sat next to Lah Zhima, discussing something in a stilted tongue she'd never heard before, less grating than when Masago talked down to Tsubaki. They had paused when she'd stood before them, fists clenching and unclenching as she nearly choked on what to say. Eventually hedging her bets on the deference that got her through the Horde, she bowed, saying to them, "Teach me, please." She felt hands hover over her shoulders, with a gentleness she had scarcely felt before. Brought eye to eye, Juro said, "The first lesson is that we are all equals here. Sit. Eat. We can talk from there."

Chapter Text

1010 ID

Catra’s POV:

    As Catra sat there meditating, she took a moment to reflect on her place among the crew of the Hawk-bat . She’d been mostly caught off guard by the general kindness among the Jedi, where even the more experienced members of this nascent order treated her with a general kindness and respect she had rarely seen in the Horde.

    Sadly, all the goodwill and kindness on Etheria could not get her to see the point of meditating. Opening her eyes with a huff, they widened further as she realized she had been sitting there for a measly ten minutes. Across from her, Kouru barely inclined her head as she teased, “Not sensing a lot of meditation going on over there.” With a huff, Catra responded, “I keep trying, but–” “ Bahp!” Kouru interrupted with a pointing finger, eyes open, “That’s the problem. ‘Trying’. One does not try when it comes to the Force, they must simply do .” 

    At Catra’s confused tilt of her head, Kouru merely sighed and stood, motioning for Catra to remain seated. “Close your eyes and just…listen. Not with your ears, but your mind, your heart. Feel the ebb and flow of the Force.” With a huff, Catra closed her eyes as she once more tried to comply with her instructions. As she sat there, her breath slowed, leveling to the beat of her heart. In that moment, she felt something that she knew would never be captured by words. She could feel the fear of running prey, the joy of predators securing a kill for their new cubs. She felt the age of the forest, something incomprehensible contrasted only by the fresh bloom of flowers, young and fleeting, but vibrant in the Force.

b̵͙̦̺̓̓̈́l̴̠̘̿͛͝u̴͇͕̻̽̕͝é̸̢̼͎̒͘ e̴͕̼̼̒̕͘y̸͙̟̞͛̓̔ë̵̘͙̞́͑͝s̸͕͕͕͊͑ a̵̡͍̐͆̓ c̵̠͙̻̽̾̈́r̵̡͉̺͒̚̚y̴̻̟͑̔͐ ö̵̡̠̫́̒͘f̴̡͔̝̿̔͠ r̵̻̪͖͊͒͛a̴̝̺͙͋̀͆g̴͙͇͖͛̔̕e̴̡̟̿͆͐ g̴̢̪̙͋̔̽r̵̙̝̘͛̓̽e̴̝̞͉̽̕͝e̸̻͖̟̓͛̽n̴̡͇͇͐̓͋ a̴̢̼̓̕͝n̴͓͖̺͊͌͊d̴͔͇̺̿̒͠ o̸̼͎͓̔̈́̀r̴̙͓̞̐̐͛a̸̞͙̦̒̓͋n̵͖̻͕͝͝g̸̙̝̦͒̾̚e̸̼͉̘͑̐͝ c̵͍̝̠͑̿͒l̵̢̠͓͌͆̈́a̵͓̺͚̓̔̚s̸̙̠͔͊̐͘h̴͙͖̟͊̒͛ḯ̴̪̪̐͘ń̸͍͙͊͝g̴̢̝͒͠͝

    She felt herself drop back onto the floor of the training room with a thud as her eyes shot open. She took in a ragged, gasping breath before she could notice that Kouru was at her side. She waved off her assistance as she tried to piece together whatever it was she just saw. After telling Kouru, she was met with a pondering shrug. “The Force is a mysterious thing, Catra. Mystics have been trying to understand it for millennia.” At this, Catra huffed. “So what you’re saying is there’s no idea of what next.” Kouru responded with a wag of her finger and a click of her teeth. “Not exactly. Whatever you saw could happen. It could also not happen. With no clear way of knowing, the safest path would be to just go on as you would in life.”

————————————

    As she set down her bowl at her solitary table, one of the chopsticks dropped from her bowl to the table. Sighing, she moved to pick it up, movements with her left hand still stiff. As she tucked into her meal, it wasn’t too long before she picked up on someone approaching her, padded footfalls telling her it was the rabbit girl, Lop. Allowing her noodles to slide back into the bowl, she turned slightly to face her as Lop began to speak. “Hi,” she started, rather stiff as she clutched her own bowl, “Do you…mind if I sit with you?” Catra, suddenly not trusting herself to speak, simply shrugged and gestured at the vacant seat next to hers. As she turned back to her own bowl, Lop clasped her hands for a moment before joining her. 

    After a while, Lop interrupted the silence of the meal with the question, “ Soooo, how’ve you been doing since you got here?” At this, Catra merely shrugged, stirring her own bowl with her sticks. “Fine, I guess. Basic was fairly easy to learn, but all these other ones have been a pain in the ass. Homen is a pretty good teacher though.” Lop nodded, currently too busy chewing to speak. Finally swallowing, she committed, “Yeah, he is pretty nice. My father is great, but it was really cool to get some outside perspective on Jedi teachings.” 

    Catra momentarily tensed as a small, orange droid hopped on the table and trilled at her. At this, Catra turned to Lop and said, “I don’t speak bot. What’s he saying?” With a smile that Catra just knew was true, Lop answered, “He’s asking if you want a picture!” With a shrug, Catra turned back to face the droid as she affirmed, before being drawn into a one armed hug, Lop using her other hand to stick up two fingers with a cheer. TD-4 let out a click before displaying a hologram of the picture he had just taken, Lop’s exuberant cheer a stark contrast to Catra’s general aloofness to the photo, her own metal fingers imitating Lop’s gesture. At this, Lop pressed her lips, clearly trying to avoid smiling. Catra let out a shrug, saying, “Never really had my picture taken before. Cameras were only given out to soldiers going on scouting assignments.” At this, Lop let out a sad sigh. “It just sounds so dreary there. Next you’ll tell me the Horde doesn’t celebrate birthdays.” At this, Catra pointedly looked down to her noodles while Lop looked downright scandalized, simply mouthing, “ No…” .

    “Yeah, it wasn’t the best life in the Horde.” She said, aggressively skewering a finicky piece of meat. “People seemed set out to screw me over in particular. Was the best way to stay out of Shadow Weaver’s bad graces.” At this, Lop’s ears seemed to droop a little, before they perked back up as an idea came to her mind. “Y’know, whenever most people have a tough time, it’s recommended they talk to someone.” At Catra’s scoff, she raised a finger for patience, “The other option is to go hit things.” From the head tilt, that idea got more attention. 

    As Catra fell into place across from Lop on one of the training mats, she sized her up as an opponent. She was about the same height as the rabbit girl; the way she bounced on her feet indicated a sense of speed. Though from the way her tail wiggled back and forth, that may have just been excitement. 

    Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she matched her opponent’s nod before the bout. Spanning the mat, the swipes of her claws were met with nothing but air as her opponent vanished over her head. Her ears picking exertion, alongside a sharp stab in the back of her head, informed her body to dodge to the side before she could even realize it. As Lop’s foot came back to the mat with a slam , Catra immediately went back to the offensive. Every swipe of her claws was met with air or a redirect, Lop responding with her own counters when she could. The few blows that Lop had sustained didn’t seem to be bothering her all that much, while Catra’s ribs and right arm were sharp with pain. 

    “It’s okay to tap out, you know?” said Lop, breath heavy from effort. “I don’t surrender.” Catra rebutted with a sharp grin. Once more, she charged, only for Lop to sweep her feet out from under her. She was held so close by Lop’s hold that she could see her own eyes in Lop’s blues, feel her breath…

“Ahem”

    With a speed most militia leaders would be envious of, Lop and Catra separated, not fast enough to avoid the inquisitive eyebrow of Juro or the sharp grin of Kouru. “Catra, do you have any formal training?” asked Kouru, still smiling. Grateful for any other course of conversation, she responded, “Kind of? Everyone in the Horde is taught the same thing, even if it's not suited for them.” The masters nodded in understanding, clearly unimpressed. “Outside of your lightsaber training, you’ll be taught Echani, a more fitting martial art than whatever the Horde taught you.” With a nod, Catra felt the tension leave her body as a brand new problem settled in her gut.

Chapter Text

1011 ID

Catra’s POV

    As Catra knelt at the floor of Lah Zhima’s workshop, she struggled to contain the excitement coursing through her. In the months that she had trained under the guidance of Kouru and the rest of the order, she had developed a fascination in the weapons she had seen her peers and teachers armed with. She had an understanding of the lightsaber forms due to her own rigorous training with a wooden replica, but this felt different, like an affirmation. 

    She tracked her teacher and the saber smith as they moved through the room. They came to a stop before her, Kouru in front, the eldest Zhima to her side, holding an intricate box. He bowed to Kouru, handing her the box. Reciprocating the bow, Kouru turned back to Catra and took a knee, placing the box between them. With an honorable air, Kouru opened the box and retrieved the lightsaber within. Standing, she ignited the blade, a deep purple in her own hands. Placing the blade at a hover over Catra’s left shoulder she spoke, “When you came to us, you were an outcast from the Horde, free to choose anywhere and any way to start your life anew. In choosing to stay, you have chosen a life of awesome knowledge and responsibility. In accepting this Padawanship under me, you are accepting the knowledge and responsibilities of this order. Do you accept?” Raising her head to stare Kouru in the eyes, she proclaimed, “I do.” At this, Kouru smiled, lifting the lightsaber over her head to hover over her right shoulder, before extinguishing the blade and holding it out in an open palm. “Then may you rise, Padawan Catra, and may the Force be with you.” 

    Rising, she accepted the lightsaber, bowing to Kouru as she did. “And with you, Knight Kouru.” With a huff and a laugh, Kouru responded, “Congratulations, kit. You earned this one.” Catra’s smile gave way to a confused tilt of the head as she ignited her own lightsaber, only for it to turn a pale see through. Kouru, seeking to alleviate confusion, explained, “It’s the manner in which Lah Zhima constructed them. Due to the jealousy with which the Imperial Knights guarded their secrets, I’m just impressed he made working lightsabers.” 

    As they walked out of the room, Catra was immediately tackled into a hug by Lop. “You stayed! You’re a Padawan now!” 

“Yup, would really like to live to celebrate so-if-youcouldpleaseletgo.” Catra let out the last part with a wheeze. Lop jumped back, hands covering her mouth. “Karabast, I’m sorry.” As the other apprentices drew in, Kato gave Catra a hearty thwack on the back as he drew her into a one armed hug, his other pointing outwards. “You feel that, Cat? That’s the future! Jedi, protectors of–” Whatever he was going to say next was immediately cut off by the sensation of a metal elbow burrowing its way just under his rib. Lem let out a snort as her friend ambled back over to rest against one of the walls. Turning to Catra, the Chadra-Fan asked, “You’re heading down to the village, right? To celebrate?” At this, Catra nodded. As much of a step up the MRE’s Juro had on the ship were to ration bars, Catra had nearly cried when she’d tasted a home cooked meal for the first time. 

    “Mind if I come with? I want to see if the merchants brought anything good.” Turning her gaze to Kato, Catra tilted her head, as if to extend the invitation. The Chiss shook his head in the negative, citing a desire to study in the library. Catra, ever the desire to heckle, began, “Are you sure you aren’t studying some–” this time it was Catra’s turn to dodge, as Kato let out a lighthearted shove through the Force, causing Catra to flip away, though Lop was forced to sit on the floor. At her glare, Kato turned on his heel and broke into a sprint, pursued closely by an irate Lop. Catra let out a dejected sigh as they turned the corner, before quickly turning to Lem and Kouru with a sharp finger. “Shut it.” She said, before either of them could voice their thoughts. Kouru’s grin widened further, as Lem tilted her head. Lem tried to speak, “Why don’t you ju–” only for Catra to kneel down, two fingers extended towards her. “Shut snick it. snick. ” With a nod, she acquiesced her request. 

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    As the trio made their way towards the edge of the village, they noted the tension the people of Rosetown were emitting. Turning her head to her master, Kouru merely let out a shrug as they made their way towards the bar. Along the way, they were joined by Ronin and Fox, with B5 trailing close behind. Finding an empty table, they seated themselves upon the floor, light chatter about the table. 

“Congratulations are in order, I believe.” said Fox, drink in one hand and another on their mask. Ronin and Kouru nodded, while Catra looked away, sipping her own spiced tea, abashed. As they celebrated, Catra extended her senses into the Force, taking a moment to feel the life around her. Her brow twitched as she felt a ripple, like a gathering of malicious intent. The others also sensed it, Kouru and Fox tensing while Ronin’s hand came to rest near his lightsaber. 

The sensation gathered as a quintet of harsh looking bandits strolled under the flaps, surveying the hushed inhabitants as though they were looking for something. “ALRIGHT THEN! You lousy Plumerians know what time it is. Hope you brought enough for tax season.” While they were boasting, Ronin turned back to the table and leveled a look at Kouru. In Tionese, she replied, “ No. You handled it so well last time, you deal with these bandits.” With a raised eyebrow, he replied, “I seem to recall that last time, you were included in that number. Ergo, you do it.”

“ Please . If anything, B5 did most of the hard work.”

“Still beat you though.” Ronin said into his cup as he took another drink. This seemed to irk Kouru, who slapped both of her palms to the table. “Only because you–” only to be interrupted by a pair of bandits who ambled on over. The sea elf leaned down to speak, “I don’t know where you all blew in from, but clearly you’ve never heard of us before! We’re the Land Sharks. And we don’t take kindly to being ignored.” Kouru shot Ronin a look that said this wasn’t over, before turning back to speak to the bandit. In Mountain Flower, she said, “Sounds stupid. You guys don’t even look like pirates.” As the Sea Elf turned back to speak at his compatriots, Kouru struck. Her leg struck out with a snap against his knee, knocking him down to his good one. Kouru flowed from her stretched kick to dodge a blow from the heavy lizard man. Ducking underneath his left cross, she delivered a series of blows to his ribs, delivering a kick to the inside of his leg as she dodged a sloppy sweep of his left arm. Delivering a hammer blow to his throat, her gaze shifted back to the Sea Elf, as well as his two human compatriots who had moved towards the scuffle. 

As he moved to strike her with his stolen Horde baton, she dodged under the blow, delivering a kick to his jaw as she grasped his weapon hand. She dragged it behind him as she twisted until he dropped it, then further until she heard a snap-pop . Dropping the yowling man, she dodged a crossbow bolt, rolling her body to allow the momentum to assist her in kicking the dropped baton into the shooter’s face, forcing them to drop the crossbow as they clutched their face. Rushing to meet the swordswoman, she clapped her hands together around the sword, freezing the woman attached in her place. In one flowing movement, she flipped over her attacker, grabbing her by some shirt and her forearm, and threw her over her shoulder at the two bandits entering through the flap, sending them sprawling out onto the dirt. 

While Catra was still processing the fluidity with which Kouru had folded those four bandits, Fox let out a shrug. “Impressive. Still the five–no, six bandits outside, though.” With a huff, Kouru snapped her lightsaber hilt off her belt before stepping outside. For a moment there was silence, before a wash of red light appeared underneath the doorway, followed by the general sounds of violence. After a minute, the fighting stopped, and Catra heard Kouru shouting for the rest of them. Stepping outside, Catra was immediately greeted by the site of a minotaur clutching where their left arm used to be. She saw three bodies face down on the floor, and finally the two surrendering survivors. “They say that this is all there is. Care to confirm, Fox?” asked Kouru, blue and red blades hovering inches from their heads. Fox stared at them, their blank mask doing nothing to ease the bandits. “They are.” With a nod, Kouru extinguished her lightsabers, before striking each bandit in the temple with one, letting them crumple to the ground.

Lem’s snout twitched as she asked, “Can’t that be done with the Force?” Kouru’s shoulders shrugged as she responded, “Don’t care for it.” “Oh, kind strangers, thank you!” The group turned as a village elder came huffing before them. “Those ruffians had been threatening us for quite some time. We had just been preparing to send someone to ask for the princess.” At this, Ronin cupped his chin, “Then it seems it was fortunate we were in the right place. But what’s your plan when the next set of bandits stroll around?” The elder scratched her head, “Well, we’re a peaceful people, y’see. It’s not in our nature to escalate a conflict, and we don’t really have many sorcerers in our village.” Catra failed to hide her derisive snort, “So what? You’re just going to let people walk all over you, wait for the next savior to come?” At the rise in her voice, Kouru’s arm hovered over her right shoulder. Taking a breath, Catra exhaled, nodding towards Kouru. 

“My Padawan does raise an interesting conundrum. One that I believe I may have a solution to.” As she explained to the gathered crowd, she was met with hesitant agreement. Nodding, she summoned her holoprojector to her hand. “Margrave Juro, get Ekiyo. I have an idea I think needs to be heard.”

Chapter Text

1012 ID

Catra’s POV

As Catra crouched there, one arm cocked back to dive into the water, she wasn’t really observing her reflection. Her mind was turned outwards, feeling the environment around her. Her every breath, timed to the beat and flow of the Woods. Quick as a flash, her arm stabbed down into the water, grip tight as she pulled yet another blue-fin from the stream. Sighing, she dropped the fish alongside her other catches that morning in her bucket. 

Turning back towards her own rippling reflection, she saw one of her ears twitch as she picked up the miniscule sounds of a boot scraping against wood, a hand tightening around a metal grip. Forcing herself to maintain her laxed position, she could just barely make out a telltale hint of blue against the tree canopy as she gave the appearance of preparing to snatch another fish. Hearing her assailant let go of the branch, she gripped a nearby felled log through the Force and sent it hurtling towards him. She jumped to the side, surpresing a cringe as she found herself knee deep in flowing water. 

As Ethan landed on the rocky outcrop in the middle of the river, he fell into the defensive stance of form III. Her own vibrant orange lightsaber blade in hand, Catra settled into a loose form IV stance, her favorite for its emphasis on agility and speedy attacks. Studied as she was in lightsaber combat, her pride would not blind her to the folly of attacking a student of Soresu when they held the high ground. Another flick of the ears was the only indication that she’d heard her second assailant approaching from the riverbank. A warning from the Force as well as the precision of her own ears allowed her to dodge Kara’s own downward swing. Immediately, she set herself upon her, forcing her fellow Ataru practitioner on the defensive, sacrificing her sight of Ethan. 

Catra’s attacks were met with a solid defense, forcing her to have to guard against Kara’s own lightning quick ripostes. Hearing Ethan wade to the fight, Catra dropped to a low pirouette, kicking water into both their eyes. Extinguishing her lightsaber, she gathered her arms back before thrusting them out, pushing Kara into a thicket and entrapping her there. 

As quick as a whip, Catra wheeled back on Ethan, snapping his lightsaber away with a parry before checking a shoulder to his chest. Ducking underneath a wild swing, she pattered up a fallen log, drawing her opponent up with her. Baiting him into an overhead swing, she forced their locked blades down through the log, causing them to stumble. As they landed, Catra flicked his lightsaber towards the bank, the training setting of her lightsaber leaving a sharp sting across his wrists. 

Rushing to where she’d left Kara, she was immediately on the defensive as Kara lept out, doing her best to try and find an opening to retaliate. Going for a jump over her opponent, her lightsaber was sent flying from her hands. Training mode or no, Catra would rather acquiesce a match than get smacked by a lightsaber. 

As the three met back up by her fishing rock, Catra grabbed her bucket as they made their way back towards the Hawk-bat . “Pretty good, Catra.” Ethan said, rubbing his wrists. “What gave me away?” At this, Catra let out a scoff. “You’d have to get up pretty early to get the drop on me in a forest. I could’ve heard you from the Frightzone.” At this, Kara spoke up, “Didn’t see me coming though, did you?” At Catra’s huff, she raised her hands placatingly, “Not that you didn’t do good! Just that you were a little quick to dismiss an enemy from a fight. And you might want to look into studying some more defensive techniques.” 

With a huff, Catra accepted her point. Making an offering of the fishbucket to the pair, she shrugged as she took out a fish and took a chunk right out of the side. “Yor losh.” She said, not noticing how the duo blanched. 

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After having stopped by the Hawk-bat for a proper breakfast, Catra made her way towards the village. In the time since Kouru had dealt with those thugs, the villagers had taken to accepting training from the Jedi to fight for themselves. Arriving at the village, her ears picked up the sound of steady, repeating blaster fire. From what she had seen from Ronin and Lem, they had been a pain to make, mostly reverse engineered from the Horde’s own stun batons into the shape of bowcasters, light enough for the use of those less strong than wookies. They’d managed to arm a few handfuls of villagers that showed promise with the weapons, the others being relegated to bows. 

After seeing that the training was being overseen by Ekiya and Kouru, the Padawan decided that she would be better off wandering the village than being around those two. They just got so… sappy around each other, and Catra felt an awful lot like a third wheel. Swinging by the bar where she practically had to sneak the money into the register, she let her attention wander as she let herself feel the rhythm of the village through the Force. So distracted by the flow of the Force, she wound up walking right into Lop. 

Barely managing to save her tea, she managed to maintain enough of her dignity to let out a cool, “Hey, Lop.” 

“Catra! What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering where Kouru was, but she’s ‘busy’ helping Ekiyo.” She said with a tilt of her head for emphasis on the finger quotes. “How about you?”

“Oh, I was just here with Father and Ocho. It was our turn to head down to the markets for a milk run.”

With a nod, Catra fell into step with Lop as she went back to her own walk, presumably back to her own family. “So, I heard from Kara about their river ambush.” At this Catra rolled her eyes. “No need to baby me. I already know I could do better.” At her pessimism, Lop turned to Catra, shaking her head while crossing her arms. “No! I mean, yeah everyone can always do better, but you did really well against Kara and Ethan! Besides, Kara was trained by her father and the Margrave since she was a child.” With a huff, Catra abated to Lop’s argument. 

Noting how late in the day it had gotten, the Jedi had elected to find lodging in the village for the night. Finally in bed, Catra had made all the preparations to fall asleep and just…didn't. Tossing, turning, kneading, none of it would calm her mind enough for her to fall asleep. For a moment, she considered the idea of curling up in Lop’s bed. The Jedi were rather open to the idea of comfort, and there had been more than a few sleepovers in the time she had been a member. Tamping down on the idea solely because Lop kicked in her sleep and she was probably already sharing a space with her family, Catra quietly snuck out of bed and donned her own jacket. 

Shifting around the village, Catra had taken a marked notice of how quiet the village was once the sun went down. With only a few sparse guards and night owls around, Catra immediately took note of a tempestuous presence near the edge of the village. Making her own way there, Catra was only met with a stretch of forest, when the presence bucked and swirled. 

A bolt of plasma, burning its way through her chest and out her back

Whip quick, she whipped her lightsaber out and battered the bolt of plasma back into the treeline, striking true. A moment later, bits of the treeline faded away to reveal one of the fears of every village; a raiding party. Generally motley in their appearance, their gear was equally cobbled together, sparse Horde gear peppered among the standard swords and bows. One of their few magic wielders crumpled to the ground, the wound in his chest courtesy of Catra. All at once, everything seemed to pause, the steady buzz of her lightsaber expanding that one moment to hours. 

Catra, through the countless lessons on the merit of fleeing over fighting, let out a simple yet powerful push in the Force, bowling over the nearest group of bandits while running back to the village proper. It was instinct and trust in the Force that allowed her to dodge the stray projectiles the warband sent behind her. 

Managing to raise the alarm, the green militia of Rosetown rushed out to meet their crucible. The Rosetown marksmen had managed to run to their points, taking down any opponent that looked possessed any authority or range of their own. 

Catra, never one to back away from a fight, had also joined the fray. Most were quick to surrender one her lightsaber went through their swords like warm butter, but she had been forced to act once, reversing her grip and thrusting backwards into an opponent who had drawn a knife and tried to take advantage of a turned back. Running through the street, she had only a warning of the smell of magic before she jumped back, clearing a beam of light that left a scorch where she had been moments before. Taking stock of her opponent, she was surprised to see another Magicat, and more than a little disappointed. With a flourish, she flicked the tip of her lightsaber towards her black and white rival, red eyes like tacks from this distance. “One chance, surrender and live.” 

“Tsh. I’ll live alright. And I’ll be taking that neat laser thingy, too.”

Catra shrugged, and immediately moved to dodge a fireball sent her way. Three more, and Catra was a decameter from the wizard. It was then that she altered her spell glyph, and Catra flicked her lightsaber back up to deflect the bolts of light that shot out at her. She surged forwards, ducking down to her opponent’s left before swinging the lightsaber from hip to shoulder, leaving the wizard to drop in two. Stabbing downwards, she dispatched her foe and moved onwards, but not before snatching the guild badge pinned to the wizards shirt. 

Continuing her dead sprint through the village, stopping by when she found stragglers or other militia soldiers in need of assistance, she scrambled to a halt when she heard the sounds of a lightsaber repeatedly clashing against something. Partly out of fascination with what could provide such resistance, and moresow out of worry for her fellow Jedi, she pursued the sound. 

Coming across the skirmish, she found Lop, dodging and dashing around three opponents. Two had electrified batons from the Horde, though their make was new to Catra. The other had a sword that seemed to glow with every strike against Lop’s saber. 

An arrow in flight, Lop’s saber clattering to the floor, Catra overwhelmed

With a growl, Catra snagged the arrow out of the air, shattering it in her grip. Turning to look towards the archer on the roof, she sent them tumbling to the floor with a telekinetic shove through the Force. Leaping down towards the fight, she covered Lop’s back from a baton strike. Taking a roll while Lop leapt over her, Catra slid an attack from the swordwielder off her guard, taking a cut at the shin of the Satyr holding a baton. As he fell to the ground, Catra met him with a slash from her claws, putting him down permanently. Managing to beat away a blow from the other baton wielder, Catra felt her back hit Lop’s as an idea came to her. Holding out her elbow, she spoke, “Care for this dance?” Recognition in her eyes, Lop obliged, a small eep escaping her as Catra turned on her heel hard, bringing her ally to deliver a rabbit powered double kick to her opponent. 

With him down, Catra and Lop were able to divest their full attention to the swordsman, an octopus Sea Elf. It was clear they were the talent of their former trio, as the Jedi duo couldn’t slip past their guard. The best they could manage was to press the attack, keep them from retaliating. Again and again, magic and technology clashed, the runes on the sword flaring. Finally, the warpage of the runes from the heat and strikes of the lightsabers grew too much, and the sword froze over, shattering where the heat from the blade made contact.  

As for the poor swordsman, their frostbitten hands took the fight out of them rather quickly. As the roar of the fight mellowed in her ears, she noticed that the fighting around the village had come to a halt as well. In that pause, she took a moment to breathe, her mind stretching out…before she was immediately brought into a hug by a shaking Lop. Neither spoke at that moment, while Catra did her absolute best to ignore how brushing against her fur felt. Breaking away, they could only stare at each other in a brief silence before making their way back to the rest of the Jedi and the village elders to assess the damage. 

Chapter Text

1013

Kato POV:

Blearily, Kato’s head slumped down against the table, none of the decorum of Juro or Homen, nor the sheer fortitude that powered Kouru or Catra. Breaking through the silence of the post-training early morning breakfast was the sound of Juro’s communicator, much to the surprise of the members at the table. Watching as Juro secured his helmet, Kato wondered what the princess could want. She’d kept regular communication with the order for some time, though communication had been less and less frequent, what with her business of rebellion. 

Realizing he’d nearly fallen asleep when what he wanted was to be peeping in on an open conversation, he forcibly roused himself to hear the rest of it. “–fraid that this isn’t a social call, Margrave Juro. I’ve received an urgent communiqué from a source within the Horde.” Perfuma said that word with a stressed giggle while holding aloft a rather peculiar bouquet. At this, the Margrave’s head tilted while he asked, “Perhaps I could be illuminated to this message?” At this, Perfuma stifled an embarrassed blush. “Ah, yes. Well, I won’t bore you with all the details, but, in essence, these flowers indicate that prince Peekablue has recently acquired Horde scrap and surplus that could be of benefit to the rebellion. Entrapta was… very insistent on getting her hands on it when she found out.” 

At this, Juro cupped the jaw of his helmet, “And why have the Jedi been contacted for this? We are not members of the Great Alliance, nor are we in active conflict with any except the Sith.” Perfuma clasped her hands around the bundle of flowers, hands tighted. “Juro, please. The Horde won’t stop with just the major Runestone kingdoms, and despite our efforts they’re still at the door of Plumeria, and–” “ Breathe . You speak fairly, Perfuma. I will dispatch whomever I can toward this task. Do you know where this prince is? How might my Jedi get there?” Flowers placed down somewhere, that freed up Perfuma’s hands to tap her pointer fingers together in a way that decidedly made Kato quite nervous. “Well, there’s a rebel allied ship that will take you to Seaworthy, from Crystal Falls.” She finished with a wince. Oh. Oh, Kato hated how he knew this would play out. 

With a nod, Juro ended the call with a, “May the Force be with you.”, where Kato was pleasantly surprised to hear an “And with you” before he hung up. Removing his helmet, Juro looked towards Homen, who glanced back at him before locking gazes with Juro. “We’d be honored with this task, Juro.” Knowing there was no point in arguing, Kato merely rested his head back down on the table. 

As they made their way out the Hawk-bat, Kato, immediately stood at a greater alert, a murmur in the Force that failed to affect his master as Homen stopped a good five feet ahead of him. At his inquiry, Kato dismissed it as nothing, before turning his head towards where he’d heard a thump , only to see a fallen bundle of fruits. Shrugging, he turned back to go onwards, only to immediately try and jump out of his own skin at the sudden appearance of Catra at his opposite. Hunched over, he inquired, “Aren’t you supposed to be going with Kouru and the Zhimas to that history conference?” 

Catra merely shrugged, “Kouru said that ‘branching out’ with my fellow Jedi would be good for me. And I don’t care for history.” “A mind set held by many who find themselves doomed to repeat it. Regardless, any assistance is good assistance.” With Catra in tow, they set onwards towards Crystal Falls. 

Camping down for the night, Kato felt his grip on the waking world ebbing as he drifted to sleep. Shifting and turning, he startled up in a fit of panic. Looking around, he was decidedly not where he’d gone to bed. Instead of the part of the forest that gave way to the plains that would lead to Crystal Falls, he found himself in tall, pink-blue grass that reached up to his ribs, the sky stretched out like hyperspace. For an infinitesimal moment, he felt the beauty of the place, before it suddenly felt cold . Hearing a rustle in the grass, he turned, gripping for his San-Ni staff or his lightsaber, coming away with neither. Picking up a growl through senses enhanced through the Force, he turned to face the wolf before immediately feeling claws at his back, teeth at his neck as the pressure on his shoulder tightened…

…Startling awake, his hand lashed out at his shoulder, only to realize it was just Catra, a finger over her lips. As he rose, he saw Homen also standing vigil around the camp, head twitching in the direction of every snap and rumble in the Woods. As he looked around, he sensed a beastly hunger surrounding them. Staff loose in his hand, he felt Catra watching his back. All at once, Kato felt a cold wave of fear-anger- instinct-r̶̵͖͚̝͐̿ǘ̶̸͉̦̻̈́̚ǹ̶̸͔͚͛͑  and he could hear shuffling in the underbrush as the beasts hiding there abandoned any pretense of an ambush, pack discipline lost to the utter terror they comprehended. 

Turning, he gave a nod to Catra as he slung his weapon over his shoulder to his back, freehand giving a friendly clap to her shoulder as they made their way back to the path. Homen, however, was more neutral, “I didn’t realize Kouru had begun your training on darker techniques.” To this Catra shrugged, while Kato supplied his own reasoning. “A fight would end faster if the aggressors were suddenly too scared to threaten those asking for our assistance.” 

“A point I hope you will be compounding upon in writing, Kato.” 

As he face-palmed for having walked into writing yet another argument for his master to go over, Catra interrupted, stating, “Funny as Kato’s mouth getting him into trouble is, we’re here. Petals didn’t happen to specify where our ride was, did she?” Turning to Homen, Kato asked, “You want us to meditate on it, don’t you?” With a quirk of his lips, Homen replied, “I would like for you to guide us, yes. More practice never killed anyone.” With a huff and a mutter, “No pressure.” Kato first turned inwards, and for a brief moment, everything came still. He could feel what Homen was always saying, about how all was one in the Force. With a whisper, he turned left and marched onwards, booted metal feet clacking against the tile of the city. 

He could feel Homen and Catra behind him, but he was barely focusing ahead, merely moving where the Force urged and dodging when its whispers suggested. Coming to a stop, he blinked to a more lucid state as Catra and Homen sidled up to him. 

"Well, it's not where I would set it up, but a captain’s a captain.” Kato shrugged as he walked into the dingy bar. Once inside, the three Jedi attracted as little attention as possible while they moved to the bar counter. Flagging down the server, Homen inquired, “Would you happen to know of a sailor who might get us to Seaworthy?” while placing down a token with the symbol Juro had chosen for the Jedi, the same as the sigil on his cloak. As the bartender nodded and left presumably to fetch their captain, a rather staggeringly drunk satyr stood on his feet with an accusing finger, “OI! Why’re yous lot botherin’ wit dose pompous asses at Seawordy? You Goodfellas too Good for Octopus Cove?” “Now friend,” Kato replied, left hand raised placatingly at the drunk stranger, “We are but weary travelers, desiring safer passage than through an active warzone. We’re willing to pay and pay well through passage to Seaworthy.” Clearly, the Satyr had worked himself into a proper fit before their arrival, because he grabbed at him with threats on his tongue and a hand reaching for a knife, though Kato was faster, and notably, far less drunk. He battered his reaching arm away with his own left hand, a tight grip at the Satyr’s left bicep. In his right, his staff flaring to life with both prodded ends in his grip as he slams them into the drunkard's back. Dropping the man before he started to cook, he took to the bar table, steel in his voice, “Should any other take issue with where we spend our coin, I suggest they keep it to themselves! ” Hopping down back to his barstool, he met Homen’s dubious stare with a tilt of his helmet, before removing it to sip at his own drink.

It wasn’t terribly long before a vagabond of considerable swagger strolled to their spot at the bar. A hand ruffled through his luxurious hair as his mustache let out a truly majestic shine. “Might you fellows be the ones I was charged with escorting from here to Seaworthy?” A hand flashed out with a letter, the seal of Brightmoon on the wax, simply penned ‘ for the Jedi’ . While Kato was busy trying to rediscover how words worked, Homen took the letter and read through it. Addressing the captain, he said, “Well then, Captain Sea Hawk, our health is in your hands.” Turning on his heel with a finger pointed towards the roof, Sea Hawk merely let out a declaration of “Onwards! To ADVENTURE!” signal their departure from the bar. 

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While Catra was busy clutching at the edge of the boat and Homen was meditating near the center, Kato took it upon himself to learn more about this captain who had agreed to ferry them to their destination. “You’ve truly gained quite the resume if even half of your stories were true.” The pirate chuckled, “Heh, heh, my good man, could a liar compose each of his adventures—IN SONG?! HOOOOO-” “I am BEGGING you, please!” Catra interrupted while holding back a retch, “Do not pile a song onto my suffering.” With an indignant huff, Sea Hawk turned back to the wheel while Kato meandered over to where Catra was. “So, big, bad kitty cat enjoying the waves?” he asked, relishing the opportunity to get back at Catra and laughing as she gave a one finger salute while she dangled her head over the ship. 

As they heard Sea Hawk’s cry of land, Catra’s communicator gave the beep to signify an incoming message. As he and Homen gathered near to hear the message, he tweaked his head towards a twinge he felt in the Force before he turned back to the message. The hologram of Juro made a harsh pointing gesture towards them, “Remember, it is critical that this barter with the prince go well , or there will be consequences. ” The trio nodded while Sea Hawk winced after the communication cut. “Regardless of that bit of unpleasantness, port ahead! ADVENTURE on the horizon!” “Wouldn’t arriving at the destination signify the end of an adventure?” Catra asked with a sarcastic lilt. Sea Hawk let out a chuckle and a flex, “My dear, ADVENTURE is a state of being! Every step is the beginning of a new one.” As Catra grumbled about the distance being too far, Kato looked to the approaching port on the horizon. 

Finally, as the frankly unmerry band made its way through the winding streets of Seaworthy, they made an abrupt turn into an alley, walking up to a reinforced door. Kato reached out through the Force and opened the door. As the doorman came to confront them, Catra reached out and said, “ We’re welcome here. You don’t feel like reporting us to your boss.” The doorman repeated it dumbly, and let them pass him. As they entered the hidden bar, they came to the end of one of Peekablue’s piano performances. Though none of the other patrons noticed the shift in his tone, Kato acknowledged him with a cheeky tilt of the head. As they moved towards the bar, they were flagged down by one of the guards and sent backstage. 

Peekablue gave the lightest motion to address them while he sat down at his mirror. Finally turning to address the traveling Jedi, he spoke with a light scoff, “What would three traveling Goodfellows have to do with an honest politician?” Ignoring Kato and Catra’s duel snorts, Homen responded, “Regardless, it has come to rumor in some circles that you have come under the possession of a rather impressive stach of contraband that could be used to help fuel the war effort against the Horde.” At this, Peekablue snorted. “Even if I did have these hypothetical supplies, it’s not exactly as if I’m in dire need to part with them.” At this, Catra interjected, “Then why settle for payment? A friendly wager should be more than enough. We win, we get the goods. You win, you get the employment of the Jedi.” At this, Kato whipped his head to stare at Catra as if she had suddenly grown a second one. Before he or Homen could interject, Peekablue gave his reply, “Deal! I’ll have you know I’ve never been defeated at Liar’s Dice.” As they both cupped their dice and rolled, Kato felt that familiar presence in the Force before Peekablue made his call of four sixes. Catra paused for a moment, a small tilt of her head before she called, “Liar.” Peekablue let out a scoff before they raised their cups to see a small smattering of each number, with only three sixes. This went on for some time as Peekablue slowly lost each of his own five dice, with Catra only losing one in the progress of their game. The only thing that could betray that anything was amiss was the continuous tremble in Kato’s lip, but that was half the reason he wore a helmet whenever he was sent to negotiate with Homen. Finally, the game ended with Peekablue out of dice and Catra’s tail swishing in contentment. Not one to typically linger on a victory, Kato called out, “Well, your princeliness? Deal’s a deal, isn’t it?” With a glare, he gave a wave of his hand, “Yes, yes. Your supplies will be loaded onto your ship post haste, and I hope you will leave with much the same speed.”

As the Dragon’s Daughter IV pulled out of the harbor and set itself on the way back to Glass Lake, Kato felt that familiar tingle in the Force once more as Catra’s communicator dinged once more. Juro’s form appeared once more, though this time it was with less hostility than the time before. “I trust the contraband has been secured for our war effort?” Homen gave a light bow while answering, “Yes, Margrave. The prince could do nothing about the deception without exposing his own hypocrisy.” Juro nodded as the transmission cut, and Kato laughed as he and Catra made a rude gesture towards where they felt the ripple the strongest. 

Chapter Text

1013 ID

F’s POV

With an exhale, F turned to face the party as she arrived with Perfuma. She had agreed to take part in the festivities with Perfuma in part because she found it important to be up to date with the politics of the continent. The other part of her was glad to finally get out of Plumeria for a bit. As much as she truly cared for each member of her order, there were some levels of painful obliviousness even she couldn’t stand. “Honestly Perfuma, it’s like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. Catra’s practically staring at Lop every free moment she gets when they’re in the same room, and Lop could pull someone aside and ask them if Catra hates her. It’s just so–is this why the Jedi of old forbade relationships?” Perfuma just snorted while holding her own drink. “My, that does sound terrible. Seems as bad as that winged horse that keeps going around and eating apples around Plumeria.” At this, F paused in the middle of a drink, confusion evident on her face as Perfuma continued, “But sometimes the universe just has the strangest ways of pushing people together! Like how you seemed to be dead set on -” Anticipating how that sentence would end, F merely stuck out her index finger with a sharp point and a look to interrupt. “But really, it would be so much healthier if-” “Ahp!” F included, raising her eyebrow further, taking a quiet sip of her drink. The moment continued for a beat, before it was broken by a fit of chuckling from both sides.

“Wow, Adora, that is such a funny inside joke you just said!” Spoke another princess as F quirked her brow in an attempt to place where she had heard that name previously. As she finally managed to make them click, she bowed to address them as she had the hostess when she walked in. “Princess Glitter of Brightmoon and Adora, the She-Ra. I am honored to meet you.” The moonlight princess’ eye twitched as she spoke, “It’s Glimmer , actually, but who might you be?” “I am Jedi Knight F, of the Jedi Order.” Following this, Adora visibly perked up as she began to speak, “Ah, you guys fight the Sith, right? I only know because I ran away from the Horde to become She-Ra, and Masago really seemed to hate you guys whenever she brought you up, and it would be really great to–” She probably would have continued for some time before F raised her hand to stop her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have the authority to make such a grand decision for the order. More importantly, Jedi do not fight on behalf of governments and rarely will we make the first strike in a fight.” At this, the Princess of Power clenched her fists, aggression rolling off of her in waves in the Force. “How can you just stand to the side and let the Horde get away with what it’s doing to Etheria?” At this, F tightened her resolve as she replied, “We can’t and we aren’t! Unfortunately, the Horde isn’t the only thing the people of Etheria have to deal with, and there aren’t enough Jedi to go take the fight to the Horde.” 

Reigning in her temper, F turned away from the small group and headed off towards the salad bar. Taking a moment to exhale and center herself in the Force, she took note of the chicken wraps at the table, remembering the more somber wedding festival Valco had attended with her. Taking a moment to observe the party around her, she ignored the very enthusiastic Scorpioni a few feet away from her as her attention drew to the Salinian princess’ plus one. Quite frankly, he didn’t seem as impressive as Kato made him out to be. Sure he was fairly handsome, and that mustache may have truly been majestic, and he did look strong enough to bench a Harch, but…well, his attention was clearly drawn to the princess, and F chose to ignore why that made her feel a twinge of relief. She was interrupted from her own thoughts as she overheard Glimmer and a man devoid of any covering on his midriff arguing about the circumstances of his attending the ball. After hearing the mention of Perfuma and deciding she was truly uninterested in being caught up in whatever drama that was, she meandered away from the bar as she walked into Perfuma as the dance started. During the dance, she had gone between three separate partners, all of them asking if she had seen someone named Bow. Shortly after telling Perfuma what she had just told Glimmer and Adora, the dance was interrupted by the diminutive Fractal Flake princess encasing Adora in an ice hut while a woman with dreadlocks and a nice suit stood to the side looking smug. 

TWEEB-TWEEB-TWEEB BOOM

F’s eyes shot open as the brief glimpse in the Force sent her at a rapid pace towards the princess. “Revered Hostess,” She started, pulling Frosta out of the tongue lashing she was giving Adora, “I have reason to believe this party is in danger and that it would be advisable to send the party goers home.” At this, Frosta scoffed, “And just what justification could you give me to interrupt the party of the decade?” F let out a sigh as her lips tightened, “It was a vision, but–” “A vision!? You expect me to call off Princess Prom over a–” Whatever harsh rebuke Frosta was going to respond with was cut off as a series of Boom-CRACK ’s interrupted her. F’s arm shot out as she poured all she had into keeping certain debris from striking the party goers, a great tremor in her arm as she nearly buckled under the pressure. She had no idea how long she spent holding all the ice in danger of hitting people in place, but once she finally felt the rocks getting tugged back into place, she released her grip as she fell to her knees, trembling from the exertion. 

The readying whirs and clicks of blasters, before sustained fire is drowned out by screams. 

F whipped her head upwards, seeing a squad of five Horde troops aiming down at the party. Wrenching away the spears of the nearby guards, she sent them up through the soldiers, stabbing them into the walls. Rushing off towards the weapon storage, she slid to a halt to see the same Scorpioni woman following the woman Adora was with, holding the Sword of Protection. The suited woman barked, “Scorpia! Deal with her while I get back to the skiff.” Now identified, Scorpia cheerfully nodded before handing off the sword and turning to face F. Falling back into a looser Teräs Käsi stance, she chose to dodge each of the other Horde soldier’s blows, striking at her armored claws or tail whenever the opportunity showed itself. After dodging a particularly close claw to the temple that left her seeing a strand of hair fall to the ground, she retaliated with a series of blows to where she felt chitin met human skin. 

Pulling away at a ripple of danger from the Force, she winced as she felt a light scrape against her skin. Putting distance between her and her opponent, she winced as she noticed the red scratch on her skin, feeling woozy as she felt the poison work its way through her system. Shaking it off through the Force, her next kick was still intercepted by a claw, and she was apologetically thrown into an incoming Adora. Disentangling herself from that awkward pile of limbs, she ran behind her and past the weapons station, grabbing her lightsaber through the Force as she went. 

Coming across a locked door, Adora immediately tried to bring it down with just brute force, gaining nothing but the promise of a bruise on her shoulder. Gently grabbing her before she could attack the door again, F moved her to the side before pressing the emitter end of her lightsaber towards the lock. Igniting it, she quickly kicked the door open, only to be greeted by an open Horde transport with two hostages, Glimmer, and who she presumed to be Bow. As Adora let out a frustrated “No!” as the ship turned away, F tried to grip it in the Force, but her grasp was broken as the ship kicked off its thrusters. Turning away, she began her walk back towards Perfuma as she pulled out her communicator to inform Juro of…critical developments. 

Chapter Text

1013 ID

Adora’s POV

    “So, if I’m getting this right,” Adora said, pointing from herself to Perfuma, “ You know a bunch of monks in the forest, and you think they’ll be of some help rescuing Bow and Glimmer?” At this, Perfuma nodded, “Yes, that is correct. Originally I disagreed with the methods with which they used to help Rosetown, but after you helped fend off the Horde, I’ve become much more appreciative of the work they’ve been doing fending off bandit camps.” At this point, Mermista spoke up, “Hey, like, not to be a total downer, but didn’t that F chick give Adora a really hard no at Prom?” “Well, yes,” started Perfuma, a tad more nervous, “But now that they’ve seen the evil of the Horde first hand, I’m sure that they’ll be far more willing to assist in the Princess Alliance.” 

*******************************

    On their approach to where Perfuma said the Hawk-bat was, the group stumbled into a clearing where they could see the wrecked ship nested against a cliff. As Adora moved to rap her hand against the door, she nearly stumbled as the door opened to reveal a rather tall, black machine with gold highlights and a single red eye. Barely managing to recover, she righted herself as she craned her neck to address the droid. “Ah, um, hi, I was hoping to speak to the Jedi about–” She was interrupted by Perfuma sliding up alongside her. “Please, Juro, it’s urgent! The Horde has Glimmer and Bow andtheSwordofProtection andhowarewegonna -'' The droid interrupted this time, not verbally, but by letting out a series of hisses as it opened up to reveal a figure wearing a metal mask. “Perfuma, friend, breath.” Said the now named Juro, voice filtered out to a metallic warble. Turning to face the rest of the party, he said, “Please, follow me for a moment.” Before turning on his heel, a hand sweeping out to the side as the suit he was in moments ago slid against the floor to the wall, dragged by an unseen force. 

    There was an awkward, quiet moment as the rescue party followed the Jedi through the ship, though Entrapta was making observations the entire way. “What might bring such an intrepid group as yourselves to our quaint slice of the Forbidden Forest?” At this, Adora spoke, “The Horde led an attack at the all Princess Ball, where they kidnapped my friends. They also have the Sword of Protection. Without that, no She-Ra.” 

    As she finished, their walk came to a stop in a library. “Quite the conundrum you’ve presented.” Responded Juro, setting down his helmet on a table. “But why come to us? Surely neither the Kingdoms of Brightmoon or the Snows would take such grievous offense lying down.” “Queen Angela isn’t just taking this lying down, she’s surrendering to the Horde! She wouldn't even agree to a rescue mission!” Adora near-shouted. “I can’t just-just let the Horde go back to killing Etheria! Not after years of just being so blind to what they’ve been doing!” As she was panting from the exertion of her shouting, she noticed a steady, blinking light at the wrist of the Margrave, which he clicked off. 

    “So, like, are you going to help us, or did we make the trip for nothing?” Drawled Mermista. “Hardley for nothing. You’re closer to your original goal than you were before, weren’t you?” Whatever snark Mermista had ready fell on deaf ears as Adora observed the Jedi walking into the room, taking note of the eclectic mix of roughly half humans and half Beastmen species that Adora hadn’t identified and also Catra. Catra…who had also noticed her…

    “What is she doing here?!” twin cries rang out as the shock of their impromptu reunion wore off, aggravation and confusion rolling off in waves strong enough that even the droids could feel it. “I live here! Better yet, why are you in my home?” Before that could escalate any further, a sharp whistle brought back everyone’s attention to Juro, who clasped his hands back together. “I understand that there may be some unaddressed grievances, I believe that they can be worked through after the current hostage situation has been resolved.”

    Turning back to Adora, Juro started again, “I can’t spare much due to not wanting to leave the ship to go unprotected, but we can go without two or three Master-Padawan pairs.” As two pairs of Jedi stepped up, introducing themselves as Yasaburo and Lop, and Ronin and Lem Fao. As they arrived at the bridge of the Hawk-Bat to conduct their planning, Adora dumped the bag of miscellaneous items she had gathered to explain the plan, before realizing she didn’t have anything to represent the four new additions to the group. Saved from further embarrassment, Lem pulled a few scrap figures out of a pouch on her overalls that looked vaguely like the four present Jedi. Collecting her thoughts once more, she went over her revised plan once more. 

*******************************

    Crouched behind the barricade, Adora flashed the signal over to where the watchtower was. Seeing the signal, Perfuma turned to pass the message along to Lem and Entrapta, but they were rather occupied. “It would be such a simple process of increasing power output if we just took these two conduits here-” “Yes,” interrupted Lem, “but what about the excess energy flow in through that circuit route? Electrum capacitors would probably be best, but their rarity…” Picking up the thread, Entrapta stated, “The capacitors found in First Ones weapons batteries would be sufficient enough stopgaps until sufficient electrum could be amassed.” 

    Nervously clasping her hands, Perfuma interjected, “I don’t mean to interrupt all this…science, but now would be a good time for those lights.” Both engineers paused, before one of Entrapta’s hair tendrils bunched up around a clump of wires and tugged, while Lem’s lightsaber flashed out, gouging out sizable chunks of the hardware. Back with Adora’s portion of the group, she gestured back to the rest to attack on her mark, which immediately set Sea Hawk and Catra, who had joined alongside Kouru at the last second, on the offense. While the two Horde soldiers were distracted enough by their sudden appearance, Adora ambushed them from the side, dispatching them with a body throw and vigorous application of a “borrowed” baton. 

    Glaring back, Sea Hawk proudly stated, “I got excited!” while Catra just met her with a teeth filled grin. With a sigh, she rapped her fist against the door, drawing out a further sigh when it stayed closed. Moving to secure the downed soldiers, she looked back up just to see Lop’s ears twitching, before she said, “Skiff, we need to scatter.” Before she and Catra immediately scrambled up to perch on overhanging scaffolding. Kouru had disappeared into nearby piping, while Yasaburo and Adora broke back for the skiff, leaving Sea Hawk out in the open. From their hiding spot, Adora saw him somehow manage to bluff the Scorpioni princess into an inspection tour. 

    Head planted firmly within her hands, the group in charge of sabotaging the lights arrived just in time to hear her lamentations of the plan, where Entrapta confessed that she had been quite lost the entire time. Catra’s snort at this was cut short by the alarm signifying the opening of the door, setting everyone on guard. When it did finally open, they were greeted to the visage of an incredibly displeased Mermista, who was still partially dripping with sewage. After her snark, the rescue team stealthily charged into the compound.

    Ducking into a side door, Adora turned to the rest of the crowded group before Mermista verbalized the obvious, “Where’d the geeky princess go.” Supplemented by Ronin’s own insight, “With B5, wherever they might be.” At Perfuma’s lamentations of ‘her harmony’, Adora simply assured the team that they’d find their missing members, as well as rescue who they originally came here for. “I dunno, seems like a lot.” said Mermista, complaint immediately drawing Adora’s glare, to which she amended, “But, y’know, down for whatever.” 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

    A grunt of exertion was all Glimmer could manage to vocalize, the feeling of icepicks scraping against her mind as Tsubaki broke eye contact away from her to Masago and Shadow Weaver. “Too stubborn. Would need more time.” With a scoff, Shadow Weaver summoned the sword of protection. “We’ve no intention of honoring our bargain with the Brightmoon Queen. We’ll decapitate the rebellion in one fell swoop.” From her garnet powered cage, the Brightmoon princess spat out, “The other kingdoms will never just back- hrk. ” Masago maintained her mental hold for a few seconds, before kneeling down to force the royal to meet her gaze. “I hope so, brat,” she said, a violent grin matching that desire for carnage in her eye. “It’s no fun when they just keel over.” 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

    Leaning against a newly repaired pipe, Sea Hawk began to walk away, hoping Scorpia wouldn’t call his bluff. “Hey, haven’t I seen you before?” By the Deep, he couldn’t even think about a job well done. Trying to lay on the charm, he immediately fumbled it when Mermista was brought up. Slowly backing up from the  accusations of the Horde captain, stories filled his memory about exactly how dangerous Scorpioni pincers were. 

    Their confrontation came to a pause when one of the Jedi’s droids rolled right up to Sea Hawk and Scorpia. “Hey, wait a sec,” Scorpia said, admonishingly, “Those colors aren’t in Horde regulation!” Not addressing that, B5 simply turned his chassis to the wayward sailor before ramming right into his shin. As Sea Hawk dropped down to one knee in pain, Scorpia began to speak again, but was herself interrupted by a crane claw slamming into her side. 

    Strolling up to the pair on her commandeered new friend, Entrapta chortled, “Good job, B5-56!” to which the astromech in question dipped his body with a humble blat . Rising up to his feet, Sea Hawk winced, “I appreciate a daring rescue as much as the next chap, but did he have to go for the shins?” “Not in the slightest,” Said Entrapta without hesitation, “But seeing alien artificial intelligence at work is just so fascinating. ” Sighing, Sea Hawk simply followed the trio back to the rescue party. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

    After ascertaining Bow’s location in the prison block, they came to a halt as a door opened, a Horde drone peeking its ‘head’ through. The tension immediately diffused, as Entrapta and B5 came through moments later, introducing the drone as Emily. Handing a perplexed Sea Hawk to an equally confused Mermista. 

    Pausing at the door to the prison watchtower, Lem stood with the wiring to the panel in her hand, waiting for the signal from Adora. As the door opened, Ronin drew the blaster at his side, nailing one Horde soldier too slow to reach his own baton. The other caught a dagger to the throat courtesy of Yasaburo, allowing the rescue party to enter the freshly cleared room. As Entrapta and Lem manned the controls, Adora called out, “Perfuma, Sea Hawk, and Lop, with me, everyone else, stay here.” 

    As they mounted the elevator platform, TD-4 let out a low warble. Lop, gently knocking the side, “You and your ‘bad feelings’. What could go wrong?” A moment later, the platform came to a stop, directly above front of Lonnie, Rogelio, and two Horde soldiers. Adora felt her brow twitch for a moment before Lonnie leapt onto the platform from Rogelio’s back, immediately forcing her on the defensive. 

“You think you can just come back here!?”

“I need to save my friends!”

“So what the hell were we!?” Not helping the fight was the fact that the platform was still rapidly fluctuating between up and down. In the control room, Rogelio was immediately blasted against a window by Kouru and Yasaburo, then through it by Mermista, directly onto a passing platform. Catra irately commented on the situation, “Was hoping for more of a fight.” As if waiting for that moment, two red blades pierced through the door, while every Jedi snapped their own lightsaber to bear. 

As the two crimson blades finally worked their way into a circle, there was a pause in the air, what could have only been a moment, stretched into that forever before the fight. All of a sudden it exploded into a fight, literally, as Catra was forced to jump against the segment of the blast door set flying towards her, losing her lightsaber. Forced out of the same window Rogelio just flew through, she was grabbed out of the air by the aforementioned lizardman, who proceeded to slam her down against the platform. Gasping for breath, she managed to roll away from a fist with enough strength to dent a panel. 

Hanging low to the ground, Catra glared at Rogelio with raised hackles and unsheathed claws. “Bold of you to show your face here again.” He hissed out with a rumble, Dragontongue harsh on his lips. “Well,” Catra responded in rusty Perfect Speech, “I’m sorry my continued survival inconveniences you so.” From there it was a brawl with nothing but claws. Catra was pivoting at every moment, doing her level best to avoid Rogelio’s reaping swipes, paying him back threefold for any attack he did manage. Catching a blow on her prosthetic forearm, Catra dropped down to deliver a kick to the back of his knee, the addition of claws forcing him to kneel. Getting distance between them, she reached in deep, feeling that moment of still as she touched the Force. All at once, still became push as she sent Rogelio flying, intercepting Lonnie to land in a crumpled, two more Horde soldiers on top of them cementing them out of the fight. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

    After Sea Hawk lobbed Kyle into the Horde pile and broke open Bow’s cell, she grabbed him in a quick hug. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she asked, “Do you know where Glimmer is?” Bow, worry evident in his tone, responded, “Shadow Weaver has her in the Black Garnet show.” Adora’s arms fell to her sides as she felt a dark fear squeeze her heart. In the back of her mind, she could feel the fear and cold from Catra, who had arrived only to hear that. 

    All at once, the situation escalated from terrible to somehow worse, as the intruder alarms blared overhead, a red wash filling the room. As Adora led the party to the nearest skiff bay, her eyes locked with Catra’s, and through all those roiling emotions and fear, she saw a sharp glint of agreement in her eyes. As Adora and Catra waited for everyone else to pass into the vent system, Bow paused and turned to Adora, understanding dawning on his face. “Adora, what are you doing?” he cried out, failing to reach the door before Catra could swing her lightsaber through the control panel. 

    Sharing a glance, they walked out towards the mass of Horde soldiers waiting in the next hallway. “We surrender,” said Adora. “Take us to Shadow Weaver.” 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

    As they entered the Black Garnet room, Adora was strapped down to a surgical table while Catra was enveloped by a hateful red aura. Her lightsaber itself was enveloped, flying from its place on her hip to the hand of Shadow Weaver, stepping out of the shadows themselves. She paused, taking a moment to ponder the weapon. With a snap-hiss , the room was filled with a pinkish-pale glow from a translucent red blade. “It appears I’m developing quite the collection,” she said, contempt dripping from her voice. Adora, glaring, called out, “I’ll stay willingly Shadow Weaver, just let Glimmer and Catra go.” 

    Her head tilted towards Adora, she answered, “That’s right, Adora. You will be staying here willingly.” Setting the lightsaber in the same shadow-pedestal as the sword, red energy began to arc between her palms. “Because you won’t remember anything about your time with the rebellion. And you’ll even be proud to be the first Horde soldier to have two Jedi kills under your badge.” At this, Catra snorted, “What’s the matter hag, your brain already going?” Stepping away from Adora, she drifted over to Catra, speaking from behind. “Truly Catra, I’m almost thankful. Did you know Adora went on in your memory after you left? Ironic isn’t it?” cupping a hand to Catra’s cheek as she tried to jerk away, she continued, “No, truly, it’s impressive. You, of all people, managed to find someone willing to tolerate you! It’s a shame it's all so…fleeting.”

    The door opened again, a semi-conscience Lop dragged in by a robed soldier, her lightsaber thumping against their hip along their own. At this, Catra growled, “Stay away from her!” Hands once again arcing with electricity, Shadow Weaver drifted over to Adora, mocking, “Oh, but I won’t be.” Hands clasped at Adora’s temples, cries of pain filled the room. Catra could feel herself straining, muscles burning against the forced pose they were held in. In the corner of her vision, she could see the glitter princess flickering around in her cage.

    With a cry of effort, the princess managed to teleport from her cage and managed to slug the witch across the mask. Almost immediately, the magic enveloping Catra dropped, and she pulled her lightsaber not to her hand, but to throw it towards the Acolyte who had moved to kill Lop, diverting their blade long enough for Catra to bound over and drop them with her claws. Bracing Lop up against her shoulder, Catra had to shield her eyes as Adora lifted her sword. As the light level in the room finally dropped back down to ‘bearable to magicat’, the two tore off their knowledge of their old haunts and shortcuts boosted by the Force and Magic.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

    As Catra, Lop, Adora, and Glimmer came up upon the escape skiffs, they slowed down just long enough to get pulled on. As Catra collapsed against the skiff railing, she couldn’t help but feel that there was a relative lack of joy for a successful rescue mission. Looking back to the rest of the skiff, she paused as she went over the roster in her head again. “Wait,” she said, “where’s the…hair princess?” gesturing towards her own mane. “She’s gone.” Said Mermista, a weight suddenly setting in her chest. As she felt the essence of She-Ra fade away from Adora, Catra slumped against the railing, feeling defeat in a sense she hadn’t juggled before. 

Chapter Text

1013 ID

Catra

    Shuffling around on the surface of her bed, all Catra had managed to accomplish was landing in another position her body refused to let her fall asleep in. Seeing what time it was, she cursed her own restlessness for robbing her of those few extra hours of sleep. Finally out of bed with a huff, she took a moment to pop her back before getting on with her day. 

    A few hours later, Catra noticed the door to the training dojo opened with a swoosh, seeing Kouru pause in surprise. “Surprised to see you up and training so early.” she said, standing near the edge of the edge of the ring. “Pfft,” Catra replied, surrounded by scarred training droids, “What do you call the time we usually get up?” With a toothy chuckle, she came down to a squat near Catra as she started to prop herself up.

    “How’re you doin’, kit?” Kouru asked, far softer than Catra cared for. With a scoff, she flipped herself up to a standing position, a light stumble. “Mhm fi-”

    “Fine my ass,” she dismissed with a cut of her hand through the air. “Someone died and you got captured. I-...” she paused, interrupting herself, “I know I’m not exactly the most approachable person on this ship, but talk to someone , Catra. It…it helps.” Now in a seated position, Catra’s ears flickered as she tried to work out a response. “This is-it’s…it’s enough. I’ll be fine.” With a sigh, Kouru stood, and Catra begrudgingly accepted the hand up. “Wish you didn’t have to settle for just that,” Kouru said, before continuing, “Well, no sense in a spar now. We’re taking it easier today, so you’ve got until lunch. I’ve still got my morning, so walk, meditate, study, it’s your morning.” 

*******************************

    Inhaling, Catra braced herself against a rock while stretching. It had been hours since she had set off from the Hawk-Bat . Taking a moment to look at the rock, she was sure she had already passed it twice. With a snick, she scratched her name out in Protobesh before moving back into the direction she knew the ship should be in. 

    Not even half an hour later, she found herself almost exactly where she had just been, staring at the name she had carved. Tamping down on the immediate irritation she felt, she turned on her heel and sat cross legged. She inhaled, feeling the forest through the Force. Exhale; all the beats and rhythms of life, as strong as her own heart. Inhale once more, searching out for the Hawk-Bat , that familiar warmth of home, of L-“Hello, dearie!” Snapping out from her meditation, her heart settled as she realized it was just Razz. Exhaling, she came to a stand, arms crossed. “Damn it, Razz! You know I hate that!” 

    Clutching her staff, the old Twigget let out a chuckle as she shook her head. “Oh, I’m sorry Adersa, but that’s closer than you got last time, eh?” Catra’s ears twitched as she shook her head. “Still not my name,” she said, waving a hand, “Don’t you usually meet with the Margrave around this time?” With a tut-tut, Razz shook her head, and set off at an ambling pace, and Catra chose to follow, not seeing how she could get more lost. “For all that wisdom, you’re still holding yourself back from reaching Master. It’s not about meeting the clock for those stuffy old rooms, it’s about passing wisdom in the field!” Pushing past a cluster of low-hanging branches, Catra responded, “Still not Adersa, still haven’t made it to Knight.” 

“Hmm. You aren’t, are you, Catra? Always surprising me.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

    “Nothing to offend, dearie! It’s nice to see you thriving! To buck the trends of fate in such a unique way, not a thing many can claim.” Catra ducked to the side as Razz’s staff was waving around, before clack -ing back down to the ground. “Oh, dearie, something has just come up. I was on my way to check on the berries for pie day, but if you could go on ahead, that’d be one less worry.” Catra turned, hoping to be able to make even the most minor of inquiries…aaaand she was gone. With a sigh, she set back to the path, hoping that she could better see the landscape from the trees, or wherever it was that Razz got her berries. 

    Flittering through the treetops, Catra came to a stop near a break in the woods, sighting a figure bathed in light disappearing into the brush. Straining her eyes, she could make out just enough to tell that it was Adora. Slowly, she ambled forwards from above, pausing as Adora entered a strange, geometric pyramid. As the ramp began closing, Catra rapidly mulled the options over in her head. She could easily just turn back and leave, try and find another way back to the Hawk-Bat . But in doing so, she might miss a chance to just… talk to Adora, for a while, ever even. When she joined the Jedi Order, she’d tried to just put everything behind her, finally live a life she could well and truly call her own. But try as she might, the first fourteen years of her life were defined by the Horde, and every last year , Adora had been by her side. 

    Body reaching a conclusion before she had, Catra lept from the treeline, passing the ramp just before it closed. Brushing off her arms as she came to a stand, her eyes were immediately drawn to the angled shape of the hallways. Not having any other option, she slinked onwards, careful to avoid making noise as she stalked down the hallway. Eventually, she came to a large, crystalline room, an elevated platform surrounded by even crystal stalagmites, the room itself held up by pillars of the same material, all shades of blue, purple, and pink. 

    While Adora was busy making an utter fool of herself in front of a hologram, Catra slowly ambled closer, carefully mulling over what she wanted to say. Unfortunately, she was so busy engaging in said mulling that she didn’t notice a stray crystal in the way of her path until it let out a loud clatter as she kicked it. To her lack of surprise, Adora reacted exactly how she’d expected; taking that sword strapped to her back and swinging, a beam of energy shooting outwards towards Catra. Catra, for her part, put her training to good use, quickly unclipping her own lightsaber and batting away the beam into a nearby pillar, which took out a fair chunk.

    “Hey! Watch it!” she shouted, clipping her lightsaber back to her waist. Adora looked at her in confusion for a moment, before lowering her defensive posture, a little confused, “Catra? What are you doing here?” In spite of her opening bravado, Catra couldn’t work out quite what to say as a tension blanketed the room. She could see Adora going through the same process, eyebrows tight; struggling to find anything to say. She had no idea how long the tension lasted before the room was suddenly awash with a red glow as the hologram broke the silence, “Unauthorized presence detected. Security protocols activated.”

A wild cacophony of clacking filled the chamber as a horde of giant spider-drones rushed in from the various connected hallways. Attempting to flee, the pair was rebuffed at each attempt by swarms of eyes filling the shadowed halls, those vacant, red orbs promising death at every turn. 

    Finally, they came across one door vacant of arachnid based simulacra, though their opportunity for safety was rapidly closing. In a display of strength, Adora, still in the radiant form of She-Ra, slid in between the closing door and the floor, wrenching it open long enough for Catra to slide underneath. Dropping the door with a mighty Crack , she followed Catra down the hall, the frantic scratching of the drones filling the halls as cracks and holes in the door began to web out. As they ran together, Catra called out, “Isn’t this your place? Why is it attacking you?” To which Adora called back, “The defenses see you as an intruder, and as long as I’m defending you, they see me as part of the problem!”

    Finally stopping at a dead end, Catra turned back to the opening of the hall and drew her lightsaber to face the oncoming swarm. Adora, meanwhile, had a different strategy in mind, and began striking at the walls around them. As the hallway began to collapse, Adora pulled Catra next to her, before raising the sword as it shifted into a shield.

*******************************

    Their coughing and hacking finally came to a stop after the rubble had settled, crushing the spider drones and leaving them on the other side of the dead end. Facing Catra as she stood, Adora, with a tinge of duty, spoke, “You shouldn’t be here, Catra. As long as I’m protecting you, they’ll see me as a threat, too.” For some reason, a part of that statement set her off on a vehement reply. “Well, it’s a good thing I never asked you to protect me.” Adora scoffed back, changing the subject. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

Catra, not wanting to admit being lost, decided to halve the truth. “I was already out in the forest and old Razz asked me to check on her berry bushes or whatever; I go on my way and there’s an obnoxiously bright temple.” 

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“Bite me, miss ‘two-to-the-left’.”

“But that assignment-!” Adora began to reply before cutting herself off. Starting again, Adora spoke more firmly, “We need to get you out of here so that I can go back to trying to cure Glimmer.” 

“ Pff. Thanks, princess, but I don’t need…your…” looking down the singular, bismuth colored hall and the collapsed one behind her, Catra could do nothing but follow behind Adora’s stride.

    Catra had no sense for how long she and Adora had been walking down the halls. Finally reaching another dead end, Catra let out a groan as she moved forward with her lightsaber, only to be stopped by Adora. “I got this,” she said, before turning to place a palm on the door. “Eternia.” As soon as she spoke, the runes on the door glowed, before opening up to reveal a black room. Taking a few steps in, the duo drew their respective weapons for light, the room awash with blue and orange. “Alright, cool, the infinite darkness room.” Catra said with a sarcastic huff as she turned back towards the door…which was no longer there. Turning to Adora, Catra blinked as she was walking towards a red orb. Sidling up alongside her, Catra let out a hiss as she was momentarily blinded by a yellow light. 

    Finally blinking the spots out of her eyes, she took immediate note of the fact that they appeared to be back in the Frightzone again. After calmly rationalizing to Adora that they couldn’t actually be in the Frightzone, she nevertheless carefully snuck up behind a guard, only for her hand to pass through in a pixelated, green haze. Smiling, Catra called out, “Hey Adora! This isn’t real!” only to frown when she heard a distinct echo. Walking back, she found Adora staring at a perfect replica of a moment from their childhood. She felt a small smile tick on her face as her younger self defended her fight with Octavia over the latter’s inherently dumb face. Her mind echoing back to that day, she followed the memory as they went to antagonize Octavia further, before fleeing in joyful terror. 

Taking a moment to realize that they were still holding hands after the memory had ended, they both took a step away. At Catra’s complaint over the absurdity of what had occurred, Adora deposited her theory that that bright flash of light they had experienced was the castle scanning their memories. No happier knowing the exact mechanism forcing them to relive random moments in their lives, Catra retorts, “How do you deal with all of this magic crap?” “I’m dealing with it because my friend was poisoned, and I’m going back to help her.” Feeling her temper flare, Catra shoved past Adora, muttering, “Whatever.” 

As they came to the mouth of the hallway, Adora, apologetic, asked, “Hey, Catra? Could I ask you something?” Catra bitterly espoused, “It’s not like I can stop you, anyway.” Whatever response Adora had next was interrupted as they both lept back, too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice the approaching edge of the pit in the room, bridged only by a fallen pillar. “That day you left, what happened?” she asked, picking up their conversation as they crossed the pillar. 

“You remember when Masago showed up?”

“Yeah, things started getting weird.”

    “Well,” Catra started, hopping down, “I overheard something I shouldn’t have between her and her number 2, she tried to kill me, I ran for my life. A pair of Jedi found me, and for three years, I’ve actually had times where I got to be happy.” The crumbling of rocks and Adora’s gasp was all she needed to snap around, her own mechanical hand whiring as she pulled Adora back onto more solid floor. “There were some good parts when you were in the Horde, right?” 

    A moment’s pause was broken as she nudged Adora with a smiling huff, dodging her counter push and shoving her along right through a false wall, that same fizzing hologram as the last room. All at once, another memory of their time in the Horde overtook them, a tween Catra dodging a similarly smaller Adora’s great sweeping blows with a training staff. Getting in close, she managed to dodge between Adora’s swings just fast enough to tap her on the forehead.

Upon suffering immediate retaliation, Catra feigned an injury. When Adora got close enough, she swung her training staff and swept her feet out from under her. Pressing down with her staff as hard as she could, she only got the sense to look behind at Adora’s wide smile. Eyes wide, she blocked Lonnie’s swing, flipping under her and managing to tag her out after she tried to flip over.

Still exhausted from dealing with her, Catra was caught off guard by Adora, joining Lonnie on the losing team. Begrudgingly accepting Adora’s hand up, she ignored the instructor’s praise to go stalk over to Lonnie. Angry and hurt, Lonnie’s remark about “Leveling the playing field.” stung, adding on to the loss of her victory. At Adora’s intervention, she played it off with a smile, telling her to go catch up.

Keeping her cool up to past the locker room door, she flung the stupid practice chest piece to some corner of the room, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Gripping the sink, Catra’s heart leapt to her throat as she saw her own face this time. Disoriented by the shift in perspective, Catra was caught off guard by the spider drone as it squeezed through the mirror, webbing her up and dragging her through. Hating how helpless she was, how easily it came to her, she screamed out for help, Adora barreling through and grasping her right hand as tightly as she could. It wasn’t enough, and she went through anyway, still screaming.

Writhing the whole way down the hall, Catra felt a fire stoke itself inside her heart. Snapping free of the webbing with her claws, Catra dodged through the spider’s attacks before taking a great, Force-imbued leap onto its face. Guided more by anger than sense, Catra ripped wires and paneling where she could. Hopping down the squirming metal beast, she moved to grab her lightsaber to finish it off, only for Adora to barge in and kill the thing herself.

At some point she would have been touched by Adora’s repeated worrying, but not even Kouru or Ronin’s lessons could temper her anger after the gauntlet she’d run through today. At Adora’s dismissal of her competence, Catra blew. “Stop telling me what to do!” She shouted, brushing off the hand dusting away loose webbing. 

Done with everything the temple had thrown at her, Catra stormed off, ignoring Adora’s calls. “I was just trying to help!” Pausing on a rock, still turned around in this stupid castle, she threw back, “I haven’t needed you to baby me since we were cadets, and especially since I left!” Adora’s own expression soured. “Yeah, you did leave. And I had to deal with that for three years.” 

“I’m sorry my ‘running for my life’ happened to coincide with your scheduled-!”

Pausing at the reoccurrence of the unfortunately familiar green walls, Catra sighed, already wishing for the reminder of her horrible youth to end. 

As a far smaller version of her and Adora ran around the halls, they came to a pause at the Black Garnet Chamber. Ignoring Adora’s platitudes about not going in, Catra moved onwards; no sense in letting foggy memories get worse through sound alone. 

As the two kids walked around the room, the only warning to hide came from the approaching groans of Shadow Weaver. As she removed her mask, the two gasped, drawing attention and ire. Running for the door, Catra was grasped with familiar dark magic, the dark witch looming over her. Only abating her threats due to magical exhaustion, they were dismissed from the room after Shadow Weaver instructed Adora to “keep her under control.” 

Walking away, Catra, finally back in her own skin, pulled her arm free from Adora’s guidance. “Let go of me!” She cried out, frustration finally reaching a boiling point.

“I’ve only been trying to help!”

“Yeah, help. Just not in any way that’d jeopardize being the favorite .”

“It’s not like life got any easier after you ran away!”

“What, Shadow Weaver didn’t give you permission to chase me down?” Catra spit out, vitriol in her voice strong enough to melt tank armor. “No pet to cry to?” Shocked, Adora tried to defend herself, “You were never-” Catra cut back in, “Whenever YOU succeeded at something, I was the reward. My own reward was Shadow Weaver ignoring me a little longer. But whenever either of us failed, I was the one who had to suffer!”

Pushing away from Adora, she ran, as far and fast as she could go. Ignoring all the echoes of her failures, she eventually collapsed into a ball, ignoring the faint distant cries in exchange for her own. Again she heard a younger version of herself, crying under the safety of her covers. Pulling herself up, she stood tall as a younger Adora coaxed her out of her blanket. Adora swore that as long as they looked out for each other, they’d be fine. 

“You promise?”/“You promise?”

“I promise.”

For a moment, as the younger her looked back, Catra remembered something else, unbidden by interference from the temple.

————————————————

Falling on her back again, Catra tried to sit up, only to fumble back down thanks to her prosthetic. Kouru had walked next to her, Ethan off on the other side of the mat. “Why did you fail, Catra?” She’d asked, the same type of question Catra would’ve expected from the Horde. “Because I suck and my opponent is better than me.”

To her surprise, Kouru shook her head. “Half-wrong,” she’d said. “You do suck now, yes, but your opponent isn’t the problem. You need the knowledge to not suck, and that is something I have to teach.” Extending a hand down, she lifted Catra up to her feet, clapping her lightsaber back into her hand. 

“You need only to try, again and again.”

————————————————

As Adora lay dangling off the edge of a cliff, she breathed in a sigh of relief as Catra appeared where the spiders had been minutes before. She grew worried as Catra pondered the sword, metal fingers tapping against the blade. For a moment, Catra pondered the weapon in her hand. She’d heard Adora swear it’s oath, For the honor of Grayskull. Why had honor compelled her to abandon the Horde? Had she not found honor in that cause? Had she not bought into it so wholly, that she could write off even Catra’s suffering in the face of a greater good?  

“Would this sword have worked for me, if I’d found it first?” She asked aloud. “If I had stayed, suffering for your friendship?” For just a moment she held that sword over the abyss, pondering it with all her might in the Force, even as the simulation seemed to fall apart. For a second moment, a revelation hit her with all the force of a sledge hammer, giving her one of the few moments in her life that she’d actually had to pause before thinking what to do next, her usual off-the-hilt lifestyle insufficient to answer. 

( It would’ve. Had the Hawk-Bat and Masago’s own ships shot by in the vast emptyness of space and probability, it might’ve. On the dare of a stupid joy-ride, at the hinge of a cosmic coin-toss, she might have found the Sword of Protection first. And by any oath to be sworn, she would have brought honor to that blade, to Grayskull, to Mara. She might have been a prodigal daughter, a statue and a holiday in Brightmoon to commemorate her for as long as the Eternal Queen held the throne. 

But here , on this side of that cosmic die, the sword had already chosen. It had bound itself to an Eternian after a millennia thanks to Mara, one who would gladly strive to do Good , so long as she had an arrow to point to it, and a sparkle to light the way. This sword would not pass her up for any other candidate, not until the day its wielder would pass onto the next journey.)

Catra flipped the sword, catching it by the blade in her own metal hand, handle down for Adora to clamber up on. “We’ll be fine as long as we have each other, right?” she said, a light mist in her eyes betraying the cheeky smile on her face. “Promise.” Adora said, as Catra pulled her up. Turning face a new swarm of those damnable spider-drones, Catra drew her own sworn blade, feeling the Khyber echo in approval as the darkness was lit with the radiant glow of the She-Ra, and the weapon of a twice sworn Jedi.

Chapter Text

1013 ID

Kyle’s POV

Kyle was most certainly having a time of it. No matter how well everything was going for everyone else, it always seemed like there was a perpetual shoe waiting to drop at the last second. They finally get deployed? They wind up getting thrown at the She-Ra, which only stung more once it turned out to be Adora. Someone from their cadet class finally manages to get and keep a promotion to Force Captain? They’re all stuck working under Shadow Weaver. This trend had been persisting for a while, and it honestly wasn’t something he cared all that much for. 

Working with Scorpia hadn’t been an unwelcome change to the norm, but it was certainly different. She wasn’t Rogelio, not by a mile, but he was pleasantly surprised for once with how unbegrudgingly kind she was all the time. Even after the egg on the Horde’s face that was the Princess’ jail break, she was still in good spirits. He couldn’t say the same for Lonnie, Rogelio, and himself. After Masago had managed to deflect most of the blame from the fallout of her own plan, they were all walking on eggshells to avoid Shadow Weaver. 

Absolutely none of this accounted for his current distress however. No, this current situation had occurred within the last two hours or so. Meandering along the hall alongside the rest of his squad mates and Scorpia, Rogelio had suddenly stopped in the middle of the hall, sniffing the air. Half an hour later, they had been “interrogating” a newly captured Princess. He said interrogating, but she had been escaping for the past twenty minutes to fiddle with any erstwhile tech in the room. 

Trying to maintain some semblance of authority in the room, Lonnie had asked Entrapta why she was even there. When Entrapta had responded that she was staying put so that her friends could find her, Kyle could see the proverbial light bulb go off over Lonnie’s head. “So they left you behind, too.” She spoke, no falsity in the ire of her voice. “No! They wouldn’t do that.” Entrapta’s voice came out muffled, voice lowering even as the mask muffled it further. “They’re my friends.” At this, Lonnie let out a bitter huff. “I thought Adora was our friend, too. But she ran away as soon as the next, better thing came along.”

While Entrapta was contemplating into her recorder, Lonnie grabbed her by the shoulder, gently. As she turned to look at her, she spoke, “We won’t forget you. And by the time we’re done, we’ll make sure the rest of those stuck up Princesses never can, either.” Kyle and Rogelio gave their respective shy and firm nods of the head, while Scorpia let out an affirmative whoop.

“I just hope I can find a safe way to get Emily home.” Entrapta said, cupping her cheek. “Emily?” Kyle asked, regretting it not even twenty seconds later when a rogue drone melted its way through a wall. After being dropped from a protective embrace that could have gone on a while longer, the first thing that he heard Lonnie say was, “How can you make more? ”

*******************************

As the skiff came to a stop, Kyle leaned back to fully comprehend the scale of the dilapidated structure. As his two squadmates and Scorpia disembarked, he turned and asked, “And we’re sure this is where we have to go to get the First Ones tech?” With a light growl, Rogelio held up the tracking pad to reveal that it was, in fact, the location they were supposed to go to. With a sigh, he jumped down from the skiff, rifle in hand. He stopped as Lonnie cocked a hand to her hip, doubt in her posture.

“Kyle, what are you planning to do with that?” 

“Ah, well, I figured since I never scored too well in the hand-to-hand tests, I could…make-up-for-it-like-this?” he rushed out, long gun clutched to his chest. “Just don’t wing me with that thing.” 

“Come on, Lonnie,” Scorpia interjected, “Maybe Kyle just needs the opportunity to branch out.” 

“Whatever.” Lonnie said, standard issue batons strapped to her armored hips. “What’s so important about this dusty old wreck, anyways?” Scorpia had scratched the back of her head. “Well, this land used to belong to Halfmoon, before it was ceded to my great great grandfather in some reparation? But the Horde owns the whole peninsula now, so the specifics don’t really matter, I guess.”

As they passed through the cracked and battered doors, Kyle’s foot caught as he tripped downwards, his hurtling stopped only by Rogelio’s muscular grasp. Trying to formulate a more elegant response, he stumbled over that as Lonnie added her own two cents. “I never got how you managed to get cleared for field duty.” His armored gloves creaking around his rifle, Kyle snapped out, “What have I ever done to you, Lonnie? I try my utter hardest to please, to serve, just like you guys! But I never…!” cutting off with a frustrated sound, Kyle marched ahead, determined not to give Lonnie any more ammunition. 

Finally reaching the end of a path, they came across a great emblazoned door, the visage of a She-Ra long past gazing down in stony contempt. Stepping up to the door, Scorpia placed down more of the heat bombs from the Snows gala. Carefully backing away, she ran back to join the rest of the squad behind a dilapidated pillar. Not even the sound of detonation could cut through the thick silence that permeated over the squad. Neither Kyle nor Lonnie were much for conversation with either Rogelio or Scorpia. Finally coming up on the purpose of their miserable mission, Lonnie marched right up to the First Ones datashard and took it off the pedestal. Smugly pocketing the datashard, she took a moment to pause as she looked past her squadmates, a swarm of bright, beady red eyes looking back. 

“Without turning around,” Kyle started, “I’m guessing this is my fault, too?” In spite of that, all four Horde soldiers broke for the nearest corridor, years of training through countless scenarios giving them the insight for what to do in the right now, go, go, go! 

Sadly, training can’t account for everything, and the squad of four was divided into two of two. Kyle had no concerns for the others; Rogelio and Scorpia are practically sheer brick walls, where not even the might of this swarm can overcome them. Between himself and Lonnie, however, he was more concerned. Those years of discipline and that alone are what keep friendly fire from occurring, Kyle actually managing to land most of his hits without winging Lonnie, and her managing to avoid Kyle on the backswing. 

All at once Kyle was going up, something that sent his stomach to his throat. He did not care to find out what mechanical spiders did to individual soldiers. Terror palpable in his eyes, he locked eyes with Lonnie, seeing for the first time something resembling care, swirled around with a mutual terror. In the next moment, a standard issue Horde baton was whiffing past his head, burrowing its way into the drone’s processor. Dropping down into a roll, Kyle’s first action was to pick up his rifle, and send a shot past Lonnie’s head. Flinching as the bolt singed a hair, Lonnie was far more grateful after seeing the slumped over drone. Working their way through the drone swarm, just a tad more cohesive, a pinch more trusting, the pair caught up to their bruisers, themselves a tad bruised. The ride back to the Horde was itself a quiet affair, Kyle trying to field dress a wound on his forearm that had escaped all notice until now. Rather than the muffled thud of Rogelio sitting down next to him to help, he felt the soft squeak of material as Lonnie placed herself next to him, eyes asking to help. As he extended his arm to her, he felt a weight lift itself from his gut, even as the harsh sting of disinfectant reminded him of the lack of adrenaline, leaden eyes finally allowing him a moment of blissful quiet.

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Considering the four of them were going on foot, Kouru thought that they were making good pace. By the time lunch had rolled around, she had been a tad concerned, but when hadn’t a padawan stayed out longer than they’d been told? (She had pointedly ignored the knowing look Zhima had given her, she absolutely could not fulfill the criteria of what he was implying). By the time dark storm clouds had gathered, their aura in the Force sending broiling waves of Cold down around them, she had set out to look for her wayward padawan. The Yasaburo clan wasn’t far behind, headed by a concerned Lop, followed closely by Ocho, concerned for her sister, and Yasaburo himself, concerned for his daughters. 

Going in Force assisted sprints at a time, Kouru had been too busy focusing on where she could feel Catra to avoid the horse and its riders, barely jumping out of the way in time. Lop, less fortunately, wound up tackling who they all recognized as Bow off of the horse, leading to a moment of confusion between the two groups. It was clarified when the horse, Swift Wind, stated his goal of finding Adora, who had granted him sentience, however accidentally it may have been. Kouru thought this was sensible, and informed them that they were…searching for…Catra. “Is that a talking horse?!” Kouru and the sisters exclaimed. With a huff, Swift Wind interrupted before any further questions could be asked, “Yes, yes, it is I, Swift Wind, liberator of all equine kind. Look, twenty questions later, find Adora now. I already hate how the forest is feeling and would like to go soon.” As he rushed out that sentence, Yasaburo was still confused, the Force not granting him regular sight to replace his blind eyes. “Haven’t we already met a great deal of near-humans with animal-like traits? Or other species for that matter?”

“Daddy?” Ocho spoke. Tilting his head towards where he heard his eldest daughter, she continued. “Swift Wind is a horse. With wings. And a horn. And the ability to speak.” Taking a moment to process this, Yasaburo instead chose to put this information away to ponder it some time between later and never. 

Making their way back to their search, the now group of seven found themselves making their way to a temple, Swift Wind’s connection to Adora and the Force leading them all the same way. Making their way inside, their progress was momentarily halted by the arrival of various Drone Spiders, in which Kouru was in no mood to slow down for, red and blue lightsabers swinging forward to carve a path. With her allies behind her, she began to work her way towards where she got the impression where Catra was. 

*******************************

Catra did not know where her limit for the day was exactly, but she knew damn well that it had been passed a while back. The sheer amount of drones that she and Adora had been cutting a swath through had been a dangerous, if a tad fun, obstacle on their way to Light Hope. That had quickly driven itself to a monotony of swift dodges and swifter retaliations, while Adora just powered through any attacks as She Ra. When they had finally managed to get the AI and shut off the drones, the lady hadn’t shut up about the duty and honor of the She Ra. 

As a matter of fact, the way the hologram lady was trying to jerk Adora around reminded Catra all too much about Shadow Weaver’s own preferred tactics. But here wasn’t the place for that talk, not while an unknown AI had access to their childhoods, whispering to Adora’s ear. Luckily, an avenue came to derail her monologuing as Catra’s ears picked up on the sounds of distant combat, lightsabers and the sounds of a bowstring. “Hey, Light Hope, who else is in the Castle with us?” Catra said, interrupting Adora’s most recent attempt to impress the importance of her learning how to heal. “There are no-” “Cut it, I know what I heard. Who. Else?” Light Hope held an air of indifference as she raised a hand, revealing an angle of four Jedi and Adora’s friends and…a horse?. Not important, they were still fighting those drones. “Light Hope,” Adora called out, “Those are our friends!” 

For just a moment, the simulacrum buffered. As the moment stretched to two, Catra’s hand twitched down to her lightsaber, prepared to engage in the more aggressive negotiations Kouru had taught her. Finally, the drones in the image shut down, and Catra and Adora made their way down to meet them. As Adora rounded a corner, she regretted not being in her bigger form, as Bow and Glimmer nearly tackled her to the ground in their enthusiasm. Catra immediately received her karma for laughing when Kouru swept her up in a hug more befitting those of strength and stature like Homen or Anra. Lop was close behind, and Catra took care to reciprocate hers as well, if not just for a moment longer. 

After a moment, Adora let out an exclamation, “Horsey?” Catra’s laughter at such a name turned into a choking sound as the horse responded. “No, Adora, my name is Swift Wind! Like the gale of revolution I bring for all horse-kind! Also we can talk about it later, preferably outside the Whispering Woods.” 

As they walked outside the castle, the first thing that hit them was how Cold it felt. Not just the snow and ice, which Catra had never seen in the Woods for the three years she had lived there, but the feeling roiling in the Force. As she turned to follow the current, she couldn’t help but know she was looking in the direction of the Fright Zone, and at the Black Garnet at the center of it all. 

Quickly, Bow turned to the gathered Jedi. “I know we don’t have much of a right to ask for your help so soon a-” At which he was stopped with a gentle gesture from Yasaburo. “Please, Bow, we will rally who we can from the ship without leaving her defenseless. A Horde victory at Bright Moon spells defeat for all Etheria, and that includes us.” With that, the two groups parted, the Best Friend Squad making haste to assist with the defenses, and the Yasaburo clan, Kouru, and Catra making their way back to the Hawk-Bat to see what forces they could rouse to the defense of their allies. 

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As the squad assisted Entrapta as best they could with her work on the Black Garnet, Shadow Weaver stormed in, screeching and demanding to know their purpose in her chamber. She was silenced as Hordak appeared on the viewing screens within the room. “They are here,” Hordak rasped out, “because whatever weapon Entrapra touches, its efficiency increases exponentially .”

“My Lord,” she pleaded, desperation evident, “I alone have-”

“Caused more inadvertent damage in months than the rebellion in YEARS. Not least of all because you allowed the She Ra to slip through our fingers. This is final, Shadow Weaver.”

For a moment, Shadow Weaver seemed to fold in on herself, before exploding outwards in a miasma of dark magics as shadows danced and engulfed the room. “Insolent upstarts!” she shouted as Rogelio and Scorpia rushed her from the front.”I should have left the lot of you to rot! The three of you are just as responsible as that mangy brat for Adora turning out the way she did!” A wave of shadows slammed into the two bruisers, sending them crashing into a wall as Shadow Weaver’s rune magics held them there. Lonnie had managed to rush in from the side and get one satisfying CRACK! against Shadow Weaver’s mask, sending it careening into a corner. For her initiative, she was rewarded with a flurry of paralyzing sparks, locking her muscles even as she tried to raise her other arm for a strike. “You especially,” she said, one hand to hide her face while the other was focused on directing the torrent towards Lonnie. “You couldn’t even consistently outclass one feral brat! You’re almost as bad as that forgettable whelp. Your only saving grace is-” A THWACK! echoed throughout the room as the horrid witch collapsed to the ground, Kyle huffing as he clutched the barrel of his rifle, its butt clacking against the floor. 

Helping Lonnie to her feet, she nodded in thanks to Kyle as she ordered Entrapta to start the machine. For a moment, everything within the Fright Zone seemed to dim and flicker, before the Black Garnet really got to work as it blasted out a pillar of red energy to the sky with a high pitched whine. As Lonnie stepped out of the Garnet chamber, she passed Masago and a troupe of heavily armored guards, surprised at the nod of respect the older woman gave her. As she stood upon the balcony where one could easily see the Whispering Woods, she felt something ignite within her as she saw them freeze over. Turning towards Kyle and Rogelio, who had followed her, she grasped them both as she said, “We have to take this advantage to Lord Hordak, now.”

Chapter Text

1013 ID

Angella could feel it, just beneath her skin. Just as the dark storm clouds roiled with dark, red lighting, she could feel it through her connection to the Moonstone. For a moment, she felt her memories drifting. Centuries ago, at Kamari’s Pass, she and her allies had managed to rebuff Stormrage’s advance, sending her crashing down into those unmapped caverns. But the cost had weighed too heavily to call it anything other than pyrrhic. One of the few times she’d truly felt close to death; a bone-aching exhaustion from overdrawing her magic. Kamari, her dear Kyber-Heart, had crossed that veil. She could still remember the ex-Jedi’s lightsabers thudding into the snow, Stormrage’s stray attack stopping at them, just short of her. 

Spotting the silhouette of Swift Wind in the distance, laden with her daughter and her friends, Angella let an ounce of tension slip. Banishing the thoughts of slain loves and snowy hells, Angella passed the beacon as she walked back to oversee the defenses, whispering a silent prayer to the Silver that this, too, Brightmoon would endure. 

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“ Hah- chew ! ” Catra sneezed out, shaking her head as it passed. She didn’t break pace while looking up, noting the decrease in temperature and increase in snowfall. “Ohmygosh, how have we never heard that before?” Lop rushed out. Catra’s ears flattened as she shook the snow from her head to respond. “Lop you are my absolute favorite person here, but that position can be lost.” Lop said nothing as she held her hands up in surrender, grateful for the fur covering the rose tint to her face.

As they arrived back at the Hawk Bat , the group of Jedi made their way back to where the Margrave would be. Entering one of the meditation chambers, Juro looked up from his session, pleased to see the search group had returned with Kouru’s missed Padawan. He was quick to drop the mirth as he sensed their somber tone. Standing, he motioned his head to the view port, where they could see the darkened sky. “I presume the mood has something to do with more than just how gloomy the weather is?” The old master let out a sigh, turning to view that thin, blue beacon in the distance. 

For a moment, Catra could see Juro, not the wise and noble Jedi Grandmaster, but the man, exhausted from the self-subjected burden of bringing the torch of the Jedi to the galaxy. “Juro,” Kouru stepped forward, “I agree we can’t leave them high and dry, but we’ve lost the protection of the Woods, too. We’d be defenseless.” Catra clenched her fists. No matter how reasonable of a point Kouru brought up, there was still something in her gut that cried out at the idea of abandoning Brightmoon. (She’d just gotten her sister back, how could she risk losing her again?) When she looked back up, Juro had squared his shoulders again, his own personal lie bringing back his gravitas. “Too true, but if Brightmoon were to fall, we’d be even worse off. We can leave a small group here, alongside any volunteers from the Thorns. The Horde, even with Masago and the Sith as allies, is only strong if we attack it alone, uncoordinated. Even the mightiest rancor can be felled by the meekest ewoks, if only they work together .” They held each other's gaze for a moment, before Kouru nodded as she touched a fist over her heart. “For Brightmoon, then?” Yasaburo asked as Juro donned his helmet. “No, friend. For Etheria.” his helmet echoed as he took a marching pace to the war room, sending out a call to gather and plan. 

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Gathered around the table, the gathered Princess Alliance received a shock when a small troupe of Jedi walked in. For a moment, Angella tensed as she locked eyes with the mask of their leader, before steeling herself and moving to meet them. “Queen Angella,” Spoke the masked figure, “I am Juro, Margrave to the Jedi. We come to you to lend aid in this dark hour.” In spite of the Margrave dressed in all the hallmarks of standard Brightmoon horror, Angella felt herself perk up at the end of his declaration. Trying to smother that small spark of hope, she responded, “I had heard from my daughter and her friends reports, but the Jedi haven’t been seen on Etheria in centuries.” Rather than speak, Juro reached into the folds of his robe, pulling out a lightsaber. Disassembling it and suspending its parts in the air with the Force, he turned back to Angella. “While the methods through which we found ourselves here are odd , I swear to you this.” Lightsaber snapping back together, a green blade illuminated the space between them with a SNAP-hiss . “So long as there exists evil like the Horde, we will be there to stand against them.” With a rigid face of command, yet hope beating alongside her heart, Angella bade them to follow to the command room. 

Hours later, everyone was in roughly the positions they needed to be. Catra could feel Juro standing at the top of the Moonstone tower, guarding Angella while she worked her magic on the Runestone. Catra, along with the rest of the Jedi, were scattered among the forces in the shallow lake. Kneeling near Adora, her eyes snapped open as she felt the Horde draw near. 

             As the Horde skiffs rushed out of the Woods, Catra’s lightsaber snapped to her hand, the blade emerging with a Snap-Hiss. Their firepower came with such frequency that she had to angle most shots wide, though she managed to return one to their unfortunate sender every so often. Eventually, the skiffs made it across the lake, where the brunt of the melee began. 

Catra had long come to terms with a part of who she was. She was not, and would never be, Adora; even through the Force, she could feel pulses of her radiant form, ending melees with the broad sweep of her sword, a light rage simmering over at these would be conquerors. At the same time, she would never fight like the rest of her fellow Jedi; being one of the few students of Ataru, she leapt into it whole-heartedly. Catra flit around the battle; reaching in for a stab to the unguarded thigh of a distracted attacker; recycling distant shots into nearby soldiers.

Instinctively, she brought her lightsaber to guard her back, blocking a thrumming red blade. Her eyes widened as she saw Tsubaki, before pulling back to avoid another blow. “Hmpf. The runt lives. A part of me hoped you’d perished; wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this.” Catra would have loved to respond with some sort of cutting witticism, but she was far more intimately focused on deflecting the flurry of blows intent on severing her from the mortal coil. Catching his blade in a block, she reinforced her grip with her prosthetic. “It’s been a while since I’ve been anything near a runt. See you’re still an attack dog, though.” Hearing it before anything else, Catra fell as the ground beneath her shifted from Tsubaki’s own manipulations. Shoving herself away, Catra yelped as she just barely felt his blade snip past one of her lighter-colored tufts, just under her ear. Feeling the urge to duck in the Force, Catra ducked just as a current of air rushed past her to send Tsubaki back into the melee. Tilting back to nod her thanks at Spinerella, her eyes widened as she saw the sword of protection hurtling along in the air. 

Above the battlefield, Angella was feeling the strain. Every tank shot knocking against the shield, on top of defending from the Black Garnet-induced storm above them all, weighed like a brick on her mind. Indefinitely not helping was the squad of Horde drones attempting to force their way into the Moonstone chamber. Attempting, because Juro had taken the task of guarding the room. No drone had made it past the entryway, and those behind them had to bustle and shove past their fellow slain units. 

All at once, they were flung from the door. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet of the battlefield. From below, Angella could hear the din of the battlefield; in the room, Juro’s lightsaber filled the room with a dull, pitched buzz. Just from outside, she could hear the clank-clank-clank of machines and boots against the floor of the room. As the source of the footsteps passed into the room, Juro twirled his lightsaber in anticipation. 

“Juro, you old dog . Surprised to see you outside of your dusty old tomes.” Stepping to narrow his profile to Masago and her guard droids, Juro pointed his lightsaber in response. “And I’m surprised to see you at the front of your newest scheme.” At this, she merely spread her hands in a shrug. “It’s a matter of optics. Hordak sees this, I jump to a far more favorable position.” Drawing her lightsaber, she shouted with a lunge, “And bringing back your heads will draw me closer to that throne!” Quick as a flash, Juro’s lightsaber was up to stop her. Like water, Juro flowed between Masago and her two towering droids. Flicking his lightsaber between the three, he had no room to strike back on his own. Ducking out, Masago stalked around the edge of the fight like a bird of prey. Juro, twirling and blocking between their electrohammers, just barely managed to bring to bear a defense against a leap from the sith lady, lightsaber barely grazing his chest. 

Sparing a moment’s energy, Angella lashed out a hand, sending a droid careening from the Moonstone platform. Sensing opportunity, Masago ducked out of the fight, charging Angella. As Juro charged after her, she ducked under, flicking a slice at Juro’s thigh. Keeping his lightsaber between the two and Angella, Juro readjusted his grip, calling on the Force to allow him to numb the pain and go forth once more. 

Back on the ground, Catra could feel the flow of the fight turning against the forces of Brightmoon. She had been attempting to dismantle a tank through her blade work and hazy memory from cadet training, but she’d been flung off, forced to defend herself when another red blade had been flung for her head. Neither Tsubaki nor Masago, though she knew the latter was here, but another acolyte chosen from the ranks of the Horde. Their uniform had all the subtle differences, the shoulder pads retracted for better movement; visor narrowed to hone their focus; and most damning of all was the Hex charm of the Sith nestled within the Bat of the Horde.

Between the two of them, Catra was confident in saying she was the better trained — she would find the irony of caring funny later — but this acolyte fought with such fervor and momentum that she had to give ground to better beat away their attacks. As they locked blades, Catra got the sense that they were going to say something decidedly obnoxious among the standards of Horde propaganda. Lashing her clawed foot against the inside of their thigh, Catra forced their blade down into their neck, drawing the blade through when they went slack. As she called the fallen blade to her hand, she was washed over with a brief sense of Cold , brought back as a blaster bolt slammed into the bicep of her prosthetic. Jerking back to reality, she sent the follow up shot back to the sender. 

As more soldiers honed their shots on her, she brought both blades to bear, an orange and red flurry of lights blocking scores of shots at a time, unable to make the precise moves to send them back to her assailants. It was here her already injured prosthetic began to fail her, the mistimed coordination allowing a shot to slip through, grazing across her side. Gritting her teeth, she called upon that pain, not for some mindless boost, but to sharpen the moment into focus. Her brows furrowed as she saw past the immediate threat, seeing a tank barrel rotate and point dead at her. As the cannon fired, she jumped away, the force of the shot destabilizing her own leap, sending her crashing into another part of the lake. 

Just below the water, Catra could hear the din of the fight like she was hundreds of meters away. Her whole body ached, the dozen or so wounds she had acquired over the course of the fight hurting. Even the Force returned pain to her psyche, all the deaths on the battlefield and corrupted use of the Black Garnet in the weather above her. All at once, she was sitting up above the water, Lop at her side. Coughing up water to the side, she took note of the net-dome above her, shielding herself and a few dozen other soldiers. “Catra? I don’t mean to press, but you were under for a bit there, you okay?” She tried to nod and stand, but they were all rocked as tank shots rocked against the barricade. As another round of shots rocked against the barricade, Netossa called out, “Can’t hold this up forever against this kind of barrage, so I’d suggest getting ready to move.” Kato, who had been fixing one of his knees with bits of a Horde drone, called out to Catra and Lop. “You two think of anything good? My knee isn’t up to snuff, and F is barely keeping all the blood in her own body.” Catra called her lightsaber from the water, clipping it to her belt. “Horde tanks are designed with a simple interface in mind, and a simple firing mechanism to boot. They’re smaller but if we pool together, we should be able to lock them in place.” F and Kato nodded, while Lop’s eyes tightened. 

Taking a moment, Catra breathed in, feeling her fellow Jedi do the same. Stretching out her senses beyond normal means, past all the death and destruction on the field, Catra could feel the tanks bearing down on them, all seven firing one after the other. Reaching out, she took the firing mechanisms and stopped them. Straining on her own, the pressure was alleviated as the four alongside her applied their own pressure. Feeling a rising sense of panic, Catra looked over to see Netossa bring a hand to her neck, trying to breath and failing. Splitting her attention, Catra forced the pressure away from her neck. Another soldier came down rasping instead, and Catra felt Lop’s focus shift to them. The four of them split their focus, keeping the soldiers, Netossa, and each other from choking while keeping the tanks from firing. 

Back above in the Moonstone room, things were looking just as bad. Though the remaining sentry droid was a halved wreck, Juro was locked with Masago. Walling himself against her flurry of attacks, he was all of a sudden sent back by a particularly forceful push. Quickly, he raised his lightsaber against a storm of lighting, Masago’s rage sending him sliding back inches at a time. Cloak flowing back from the pressure, he grit his teeth as Masago began to talk. “Finally, Juro! Finally, when I slay you, and the rest of the Jedi fools you doomed in this venture, I will return victorious!” Feeling a ripple in the Force, Juro tilted his head up to see the Princess of Brightmoon teleport in swinging with her father’s staff. Masago’s flurry cut off as she turned to intercept the attack, Juro lunged forwards, slashing halfway through Masago’s arm, forcing her to drop her lightsaber. Backed to a ledge, Masago snarled, “This isn’t anywhere near over, Jedi Dog.” Before leaping over the edge, calling her lightsaber to her as she went. Starting to move, Glimmer was stopped by a hand from Juro. “Masago is a problem for the future; this battle is a problem for the now.” She let out a huff, before teleporting back to the battle. 

Beset by enemies, Catra felt the strain of the task. Though the cannons were stopped from firing, the auxiliary weapons and baton shots were still beating against the dome. So entrenched were they by the strain, none of them noticed the encroaching wave until it swept past them, sundering the assailing soldiers and tanks. Catra — even as a Jedi — never thought she would be so glad to see so many princesses join the battlefield, pushing putting the Horde on the backfoot. One tank sent off a lucky shot towards a support strut for the Moonstone, only for it to be reinforced with the arrival of the Snows Princess. Seeing such levels of unity had apparently inspired Adora, who had been recently reunited with the Sword, to start glowing like a beacon, warding off the weather like a beacon, allowing the defenders of Brightmoon to fight underneath the sun. 

As they pressed the attack, Catra noted the princesses had begun to glow, until they were finally within arms reach of each other, to where they combined their energy into some … physical rainbow wave that flooded the remaining Horde soldiers away. For a moment there was a quiet tension, a moment to realize the Horde was well and truly routed that day. Then the moment passed and there was jubilation upon the field. There was a great deal of embracement and general whooping about, even as the Margrave and Queen joined. No, Angella gathered her daughter and her friends into a great old hug, while the Jedi stood off to their own part while within the group, thankful for the reprieve from the dark. Even Catra was drawn in, arm still around Lop after their hug, thankful to keep someone else close. “Any more feats of derring-do you’d have us perform, my Margrave?” Kato cheeked, supporting his bad leg with a walking stick composed of drone legs. “Since you brought it up,” Juro started, removing his helmet while Kato accepted a dope slap from Ocho, “None of that now, I think you’ll much prefer what I have to say. 

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Within the inner sanctum of the Horde, there was a great deal of quiet tension. Masago and Tsubaki, Lonnie and her squad, as well as the rest of the generals involved with the failure at Brightmoon, were gathered before Hordak at his throne. Wreathed in shadows with eyes aglow, he gazed down on his assembled generals in great contempt. “Am I to understand,” he growled, arm rests creaking from the enormity of his enraged grip, “that the lot of you held ALL the advantages, and yet still lost to those backwater FOOLS?” Knowing the futility of approaching Hordak as he was now, Masago gripped her rightward prosthetic — the damage too extensive to her hand to try to fix it — and allowed another to put their foot in their mouth instead. “My Lord Hordak, if we…” Grizzlor started, only to swallow as Hordak stood from his throne and walked down the steps. “NO, Force General Grizzlor,” he bit out, before drawing an inhale to continue, “No, there will be no more ifs . From now on, I shall be taking a more involved role in the leading of the Horde. One towards a sharper, better future for all Etheria.” As the gathered generals saluted in deference, Masago managed to temper her features, refusing to smile even as the next domino fell in her plan.

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Gathered in robes of a more ceremonial fit, Catra’s hands couldn’t stop fidgeting as she waited for the gathered Padawans to be called into the throne room. Noting her nerves, Kato turned to speak, “Cheer up, Cat! Today’s the big day, right?” Clasping her hands in a way that felt less cumbersome, Catra replied, “It’s just…this doesn’t feel…earned. Real.” Coming in with a hug from the side, Lop cheered, “C’mon, we’ve all been at this for years, even you! We’ve earned this, especially after yesterday.” Nodding with a small smile, Catra responded to Ocho’s smug smile with a small blep of her tongue. 

Hearing the signal, Catra schooled her features as they passed through the doors. Gathered in the room was a quiet recession: The Queen and her daughter; Their respective Masters and the Margrave. Kneeling before the steps to the throne, Catra shuffled as she heard Homen’s lightsaber snap to life, passing over Kato’s shoulders as he spoke, “By the rite of this order, by the will of the Force, by the honor of those you swear now to uphold, will you rise?” As Kato accepted with more seriousness than Catra had ever heard, she turned a part of that oath over in her head again and again. 

The Horde had spoken of honor a great deal during her time there. Plenty of instructors had blabbed on and on and ON about how honor was the only thing that separated them from those savage princesses. As Lop fidgeted next to her while her sister was knighted, Catra had thought of the honor the Jedi spoke of; rather, how little it truly came up. Catra could count on her own two hands how often anything had been asked of her while she stayed on the Hawk-Bat, much less demanded. Kouru had only ever coaxed her forward on this path, a tad harsh but truly fair in her teaching. Among her cohort, her friends — what a lovely word, to have it meant and reciprocated, a good sword at their back, a fellow student to ruminate with. 

As much as they never spoke of it, the Jedi were full of honor. Every tale of sacrifice and valor, of betrayal and triumph, told Catra all she had needed to know. The Horde had tried to shape her, force her into just another cog in the machine to create thousands more orphans, future cadets to save. The Jedi had asked nothing of her but to grow, to know herself. They asked her not for honor, but as Catra rose to knighthood, it was what she gave freely. 

Chapter Text

Hey, all. I know that this is my first and only work, but I’m honestly already considering a rewrite. I CAN work with the story as I have it now, but another part tells me I can work with just the lore from Ronin and Lop & Ocho. Feel free to grant input.