Chapter Text
Angella was a coward. When Hordak started the war, she was the first of the Etherians to deny his claim. Then the rest of the world followed. Citing her as inspiration, they rallied behind her, and she had sent them to the frontlines, to their deaths while she cowered in Brightmoon Castle. The Rebellion must not lose their beacon of hope, they had said, and she let them. She played the role so well, she herself started to believe that she was indispensable. That the rebellion would crumble without her. So she stayed behind.
When Micah died, instead of leading her people like she was supposed to, she still stayed behind. This time telling herself that Glimmer would be left alone if she also fell. And as if proving her right, the Rebellion crumbled shortly after. All of the remaining free kingdoms separated from the alliance, closing their borders to each other in an effort to slow down the Horde’s advance into their territory.
When Glimmer took it upon herself to reforge the alliance, this time with the actual She-ra in tow, Angella still chose to stay at the back, telling herself Adora would be able to protect Glimmer better without her.
And now, the world was ending.
The world was ending, and she was still staring at the sword, stuck in the rock hovering over her. She had said to Adora that she would take care of this. That Adora didn’t need to make any more sacrifices. She had promised herself that she’d be brave and do the right thing for once. After sending Adora away, and leaving herself alone with the sword, thinking back to the life she led, Angella found herself wanting. She wanted more. More choices for her people. Better circumstances for children affected by the war like Adora and Bow. More time with Micah and Glimmer. And she knew, if she hesitated now, there would be nothing left for her people and her children.
Angella sighed, and smiled as she blinked away her tears. She promised herself she’d be brave, just one time. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and spread her wings wide. She was three inches above the ground when a force on her left shoulder shoved her tumbling to the ground. Rubbing the dizziness from her head, Angella could only stare in horror at the figure glaring at her.
It… she… was covered in a darkness that did not seem to exist. Angella felt like she was looking at a person-shaped hole floating before her that sent shivers down her spine. From the few uncorrupted patches on her body, Angella could tell that she was a Horde soldier. For a moment, Angella glanced at the claw-shaped voids on both of her hands, contemplating if they would be able to cut anything in their current condition, before bringing her eyes back to the figure’s face. It was almost completely covered by the void, saved for a few spots on her head, where a flock of thick brown hair was hanging loose. When their eyes met, Angella knew she would never forget the different-coloured eyes that seemed to pierce into hers.
After what seemed like a lifetime to her, the soldier turned her head upwards to look at the sword, which finally broke Angella from her reverie. “The sword! We need to remove it, or we’ll be stuck here forever.”
“So I heard,” the figure spoke. Her voice was low and raspy, with a hint of otherworldly airiness. She then brought her head back to look at Angella. The piercing coldness she felt from her eyes earlier was gone, replaced with some sort of longing… and resentment. Without saying another word, she turned back and started jumping on the smaller rocks floating around the field, making her way towards the sword.
“Wait. What are you doing? If you pull the sword, you will be the one stuck here, alone, forever.”
The figure stopped, squatting on one of the floating rocks, with her back still towards her. “And if you think I wouldn’t let you martyr yourself here, and give your little Rebellion more reason to band together against us, you are not as smart as they say.” She paused, then continued, “it’s better this way. No one would care for a missing soldier after a battle.”
“Surely you must have someone—”
She scoffed. “It’s a short list, if it ever existed.” She stood up again, and was preparing herself for another jump.
“It’s always longer than you think.”
She stopped, and turned around to face her. Angella gasped. Her face was now completely covered by the void. It even covered one of her eyes, leaving behind an even darker blackness where it used to be, like a hollowed eye socket on a non-existing skull.
“Would you cry for me?”
Caught off-guard by the question, Angella stammered. “I… uh… I…”
“I thought not. No tears for the Horde scum, huh?” Angella was about to answer when she cut her off again. “Save it, your grace. I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for me. I’m just… tired.”
With a powerful leapt, the figure jumped, scaling the next two rocks at once and made her way to the sword. In truth, Angella knew that she could probably reach the sword first with her wings, and yet, she could not bear herself to move. Angella was selfish, and a coward after all.
So she watched, as the figure, now smaller than her palm, reached for the sword and everything was covered by a blinding white light.