Work Text:
The Defects
Interlude Four: Cult Classic
Six Months Before The Fall of Horde Prime
The battle was fierce. There were no more lines, the armies of The Horde and Princess Alliance were intermingled in fiery combat in a writhing mass of conflict. Shields and armour plates were shattered. Flesh was cut and bleed. Bones were broken. Warriors couldn’t pull back their arms for a swing without hitting another combatant. Hordak thought that the reason why the visibility was so low was because the horses had kicked up so much dust in their charge. But it was also partially because the mystical phenomena of the Ever-Fog which roamed the Strawberry Fields. (Which were the plains at which huge strawberries grew, some the size of boulders – they could feed whole families).
Hordak decided to open up some space for his troopers. The clone wielded a bulky arm-canon wrapped around his pre-existing regular sickly arm. The barrel was the size of a bowling ball, and the laser beam which fired from it was hot enough to cut through reinforced steel. Though shield spells took bit more to brake. The beam left fiery trenches wherever it went. It opened up some space. The Alliance soldiers had protection spells enchanted into their armour, those made them rather invincible against most opponents, until Hordak showed up.
But The Princess Alliance troops had their own ace up their sleeves. And it came in the form of The Valkyrie of Valor, The War Woman, The Saviour of The Universe; The She-Ra. Hordak had not recognised her when she rode in on her magical steed as she was in her depowered form, and he had only seen the woman on 2D screens beforehand, on rewindable recordings. Though her skin was covered in scars, cuts and burns it still somehow managed to look completely healthy and strong and majestic. Once she spotted Hordak she unsheathed her broadsword and with it she transformed with a flash of light. A seven-foot-tall warrior woman stood before him, and at that moment he knew the tide of battle had turned. And there was no winning this battle.
The swing of the sword carried the force of a hurricane. And it knocked the warlord into the air and saw him sail across the air, he counted the seconds; seven, seven seconds. When he hit the ground his whole sickly, frail body shook and rattled. The pain was ungodly. He felt... mangled. It took him a couple of moments to start comprehending reality around him again. He grunted as he pushed himself up. He looked down over his own body, his own armour. There were chunks of the plating missing, some were lodged underneath each other, circuitry exposed and sparking. He hoped he wasn’t about to combust into flames. His gauntlet flipped open to reveal a display of the status of his armour and multiple accompanying readings.
Critical Failure. That wasn’t good.
The She-Ra was like a secondary skin which Adora wore, a skin of cosmic metal, which changed the atomic structure of the sword’s wielder into an invincible goddess, essentially putting the chosen warrior through cosmic metamorphosis. In short: Hordak was screwed.
Hordak could perfectly see the arc of The She-Ra’s swing as there was an arc of churned up dirt in the green grass. Her very motion tore the earth under and around her. Her swing held the power to change the wind current.
He got back on his own two feet, and raised his fists in defiance, ready to fight. The She-Ra said something... but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. Her voice was muffled, he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. And then in that moment Hordak realised that he was in shock, and there was a ringing in his ears.
He thought it was something along the lines of ‘Give up, Hordak! You cannot win! Call off your forces!’ But he wasn’t completely sure. He just roared and charged at the warrior. She swung the huge broadsword downward at the ground, a split second before the blow shattered the land Hordak managed to land a punch on She-Ra, it didn’t matter. Not a single scratch on her. Not even a spec of dirt or dust on her. She was by all accounts physically perfect. She-Ra had rid Adora of all her imperfections every time they transformed. Cosmic light and warmth eradiated from her person. It was as if it was impossible for the woman to be dirty. No one had ever seen the warrior stained or dirtied by battle, nor could they imagine her in any other state other than perfection.
She was rid of all imperfections. He was not. And that enrage him.
His blows became more rapid, each fist connected with the Valkyrie’s face, each with more force, fury and willpower than the last. The She-Ra just stood there, unphased, just taking it. With each blow the metal of his armour bent, wiring snapped off, his bone and flesh ached, and he tired, he slowed down, and soon he was fatigued and stopped his assault. The force of the blows had chipped away at the gauntlets and forearms of the armour, all that remained was the under-armour; bottom inner-most layer of the armour which was a soft fabric utilised to comfort Hordak’s delicate, sensitive skin. And the skeletal remains of armbraces.
The alien was breathing heavily, eyes wide, he looked mad. He took a few steps backward. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t even use the sword, she gripped his shoulder plate crumpling it, she stabbed her blade into the ground to free up her other hand, and with her newly freed palm she shoved his chestplate, denting it and tearing the shoulder off as Hordak was sent flying off.
Hordak skipped across the ground like a stone across a lake. All that remained of Hordak where he once stood was his shoulder plate Adora held onto.
The She-Ra strode up to the semi-conscious clone (of course she didn’t know he was one at that point) who was on his back, defeated. She placed a large foot on his chest, pinning him down. She could have crushed him with ease, but she didn’t. No force could move the woman, at least no force Hordak possessed. There was no point in struggling, yet he struggled none the less. She placed the tip of her sword against his forehead to stiffen him. She looked directly into his red pupilless eyes and remarked, “Stop. Call upon your men to surrender... You have failed.”
Then he heard something, whistling. She-Ra looked up and behind her, which confirmed that the sound wasn’t in his head. Hordak spotted a falling star from the corner of his eye, only it wasn’t a falling star – it was an artillery round, a flaming laser bolt, the size of a boulder – and it was incoming fast.
It hit like a lightning bolt. THOOM. The laser ball spread across the field like a wildfire, the flames were the size of the combatants. They succumbed to the fire. Hordak would have too, if not for The She-Ra. She stabbed the sword into the earth and the blade transformed; unfolded and expanded, into a shield, which resembled more of a wall than a shield. She-Ra shielded Hordak from the flames, but not from the heat and the force of the air displacement.
Which knocked the defect unconscious.
---
♪ Adora, Oh Adora, Glorious Adora ♪
♪ Mighty She-Ra, hero from beyond the stars! ♪
♪ A rockstar, shooting star, cleaving darkness in twain! ♪
♪ Mighty She-Ra, she wields her broadsword smithing evil wherever she goes! ♪
♪ A rockstar, shooting star, cleaving darkness in twain! ♪
♪ Mighty She-Ra, she’s brave, she’s perfect, and she’s our hero who’s gonna destroy The Evil Horde! ♪
♪ Prophets and Oracles sing of her inevitable victory and cosmic glory! ♪
♪ Beautiful Adora, Gorgeous Adora, Oh Adora, Glorious Adora ♪
♪ A rockstar, shooting star, cleaving darkness in twain! ♪
♪ Perfect and Lovely and-
“Can you not?” Adora asked.
“You don’t like it?” Seahawk asked with a smirk. The pirate man chuckled as he strummed his guitar. He was lazily sitting on the ground, back leaned up against a mossy rock. “It kills the crowd every time.”
“I- Maybe hold off on the song and the praise until we finish clearing out the battlefield of bodies.” She returned to the site of battle, clearing out the grassy plain of shattered swords, shields, and arrows. She searched over the scorched dirt looking for buried or burned bodies left behind. “Why would The Horde fire on their own?”
“We have cleared the field, we combed this site for bodies three times over. We’re the last people here. You’re always the last person every time. You're too compassionate sometimes.... also, like, it's: The Horde. Of course, they fired on their own, they’re: The Horde. They’re The Evil Horde.”
“No, no... this was different. They fired on Hordak. Their leader. I mean, in The Horde we always saw Hordak as a deity. That was a ballsy move.”
Seahawk replied grimly, “Well, if you're impressed we know who fired that round.”
“I'm not impr-...” She sighed, “But yeah, it was her, she's gunning for the throne.”
It was at that moment when Adora heard coughing coming from the near distance. She rushed over to the newly conscious individual. “We've got a survivor!” SeaHawk shot up onto his feet and panicky sprinted to the golden beacon of a woman.
There was a woman trapped under a pile of scorch dirt. Adora and Seahawk dug up the woman in pain. She was covered in filth, and her whole body was burnt and seared. As soon as she was conscious, she felt the pain, and she began to cry. Adora attempted to comfort the blond woman, “It's alright. Hey, hey. It's alright, you're okay. Just- I know it hurts, you just have to stay still-”
“Ah- It- It hurts. Please, please, help- helped me.” There were tears streaming down her dirty face, and then a realisation came over the panicked woman, “Wait- wait, hold on, my- my sister. Is- Where is she?! Please you have to help me find her-”
“Calm down.” Adora placed a hand on the woman’s, it should have hurt, but it didn't, the She-Ra’s skin was soothing. Both of them slowed their breathing. Adora reached deep within herself, like she always did when performing healings, she opened her heart to the injured woman and the power of Adora’s soul began to spread through the blond woman.
The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief, the golden light began to spread in a wave across her wounded body, everything the magic touched was healed, and the pain was gone.
“That's... amazing. I mean I heard the legends, the tales, but- but to-”
“Nifty right?” The Mighty and Enlightened She-Ra sounded far more casual than the woman expected.
“Uhm... yeah.” She looked over her own hands in wonder, just a moment ago her arms were severely burned, she couldn't have felt her fingers. And now? They were perfectly healed. Not even a mark on her. “This is astounding. Thank you. Thank you so much my lady! Queen bless you!”
“Just a part of the whole hero thing. Say; What's your name friend?”
“Reve, Reve Lare, my lady.” Reve replied with a wide smile, “You're my hero.”
“Heh, well hello there Reve Lare. My name is Adora Weaver.”
“Yeah! Yeah, I know!” She exclaimed cheerfully.
“Seahawk, please take the brave warrior to the fall-back camp-”
“No! I can't! My sister, I can't- I need to find her! And we can't fall back now! We worked too hard to give up now! Please, my lady!”
“-back to the fall-back camp where all the injured are, where you can perhaps find your sister. We won by the way. So don't worry about that. It’s alright warrior.”
Reve search through her hazy mind, she asked confused, “Then are we not pushing forward? Why are we moving back?”
Adora seemed confused by the question, “Because the territory beyond the Strawberry Fields doesn't belong to BrightMoon nor any associated Queendom under The Princess Alliance.”
“But The Horde won't stop coming bac-”
“’But?’”
“... Yes, you're right, my lady. Of course.”
“Seahawk, take our friend, I'll finish up here.”
“You got it. Come on let's get you something to eat.” SeaHawk guided Lare to their waiting steeds and rode off slowly into the horizon. As they trotted along the beautiful countryside SeaHawk tuned their guitar and began to strum it once again.
---
♪ Adora, Oh Adora, Glorious Aqilah ♪
♪ Raised in The Horrid Horde, taught lies under the banners of Hordak the Terrible and Shadow Weaver the Smelly! ♪
♪ A rebel, she pulled The Sword from the stone! ♪
♪ And the Lady of Ladies cleaves and smites The Dreaded Horde wherever she goes! ♪
♪ Oh Adora, our hero, our saviour ♪
---
Hordak jolted awake, as if he was a drowning man gasping for air. He was in restraints, he shook violently, attempting to break free. But he was too weak. “My Lord, please calm down, you are safe! You are back at The Fright Zone! You are safe.”
“Set me free!” Hordak yelled. The attendants around the stretcher jumped and took a step back in fear. Hordak’s anger outbursts terrified his underlings. It was the thought, the possibility, of what he could do to those under him that terrified all those around him. Hordak was the definition of ‘bark no bite’. They cut the bonds around his ankles and wrists, and he got off the stretcher.
“Sir, please, you are injured, you’re bleeding. Please.” They protested.
“Who fired on my position?!” He roared through his gritted teeth. His whole body felt on fire.
“It was Force-Captain Catra, my Lord.”
Hordak didn't even answer, he just groaned and stumbled away. As he marched down the metal dark hallways every trooper that passed him stiffened. The Lord of The Horde was a rare sight to be seen, even in his own fortress. He was a mythic creature. It was like seeing a cryptid in broad daylight. Hordak paid no attention to them.
He could barely keep his balance. He marched as fast as possible. All he wanted now was to get back to his Sanctum. What he wanted most in the whole wide world was to get into his Sanctum, and lock the door behind him. And he did so. Once he reached the Sanctum doors he placed his hand against a scanner pad, after three beeps the heavy metal doors slid apart. The Lord strolled in, and the doors shut behind him with a SHOOM.
He didn't even realise that he was leaving a trail of blood behind him. He added to the trail as he began violently ripping pieces of his armour off and discarding them on the floor. Soon all that was left on him was his cloth under-armour. The symbol of The Horde, The Red Vampire Wings of Horde Prime, imprinted on his clothing. He wore it proud. And he had not honoured it today. The cloth under-armour consisted of his sleeveless virgin-killer and his dress.
Imp noticed his creator stumbling and limping, bleeding and broken. It was obvious that the little batling would be concerned about the well-being of his creator. The baby bat was young, only about six months old, but he could recognise ‘harm’. He was no stranger to seeing his maker suffering. Hordak often attempted to hide his defection and its symptoms away from Imp. He didn't want his little creation to worry, to look upon him in his unholy, sickly state. He didn't want his tiny bat to see what he would become one day.
Imp squeaked as he fluttered over to Hordak to get his attention. Hordak ignored him. He didn't want Imp to see him like that. He walked past the steps to his throne, past his work benches with which he built unfathomable pieces of technology, and he retreated to a secret door at the very back wall of the Sanctum. No one knew of the existence of the door. The only two beings in the world who knew of the door’s existence were Hordak and Imp. And Imp didn't even know what lay beyond the secret entrance.
The door slid backward and then to the side, Hordak walked in, and then the metal slab returned to its previous invisible position, locking the little bat out. A tear ran down Hordak’s face as he looked up at the stone statue of his Big Brother.
“I am so so sorry...” Horde Prime looked down on His little brother.
“I-... I-” Hordak was terrified to admit the truth, “I failed... today.” No response.
“I marched into battle today. I wore your symbol. I carried your banner. Bellowed your flag. And I failed you. I was defeated...” No response.
“Argh! I should have never let Catra talk me into going into battle!”
“Please, please, forgive me, my Lord...” No response. “Please, do not smite me. I beg you.”
No response. “M- My Mission is not finished yet! Th- There's an impostor! On this world! A false idol! She claims to be the light, people worship her!”
“This world is far and hidden. I am your only tool on this world!... I can do this!” No response.
“I will prove to you that I am worthy of being by your side! My defection does not define me!”
“Please, when I return home, please, think better of me.”
There was a knife at the base of the statue in front of Hordak. He knew it well, it was stained with his own blood. He took it and placed it up against his palm. And sliced his palm open. The blood began to spill out of the open wound. The miniature waterfall of red poured out onto the base of the statue at Horde Prime’s feet.
“...” The defective clone waited for a sign, for the judgement, for a lightning bolt to strike him down. But nothing came. He stood still there for minutes. And then when he was sure that he was spared, he exhaled and relaxed. He looked back up at the face of God.
“Thank you... I love you.”