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Catra was not a hero.
She could never be a hero.
Her very nature, as a Magi, meant that she would always be evil. The stories that Shadow Weaver told Adora and her were about how evil her kind was. It was the reason why they all had been wiped out, why she was the sole Magi in the entire Horde, where interspecies people thrived.
She could never be a hero, but the sword called to her. The sword that now thrusted her into a war that were centuries old. A war that had killed many loved ones for people, who caused her own people to be wiped from existence.
It was the sword that made her face Adora, her childhood best friend. Standing tall, wearing clothes she would never consider, her tail flicked back and forth uneasily, stomach twisting in knots. This was not gonna go good. Adora always followed what Shadow Weaver told her to do, like a little duckling following its mother duck, as Glimmer said earlier.
She..she had always known something was wrong about the horde. But, there was nothing she could do. One wrong move, one that would put Adora at risk, Shadow Weaver would deal with her. There was no one that cared about her. B..but here, Glimmer and Bow, despite being a species of pure evil, trusted her, cared for her. For the week they stumbled through the woods, they never treated unkindly, even as a prisoner.
“I’m not leaving, Adora.” Her hand cupped the flower, crafted by Bow, close to her, slipping it onto the waistline of the borrowed tunic she wore. “I’m not going back to the Horde. Y..you need to leave. Now.”
“Not coming!” Adora looked astonished, almost disgusted. “What did they do to you? Did they threaten you, Catra? I’ll make them pay.”
Adora shot forward, faster than she could react. In an instant, her hand was curled around her wrist.
“They put a spell on you,” decided her friend, thinking that was the only rational choice. “Once we’re back at the Horde, Shadow Weaver will fix you.”
“No!” At once Catra’s fur stood on end, ears perched and eyes wide. She could not go back to the Horde. There, instantly the harsh smell of copper, pain, and crackling of electricity struck her. There, she would die. Here, she would live. “T..the Horde is evil, adora. I..I’m doing this because I want to. Y..you c..can=Shadow Weaver can’t control me.”
There was nothing in her eyes that her friend believed her. Adora’s gaze was vacant, hand reaching for the weapon at her belt. It was one she recognized, having been used on her countless times before. Her arms, everywhere still held the marks, what marked her as barely trusted ally. Her fur never grew back at those marks, giving her bald scarred patches.
Her ears pressed back, taking a step back, preparing to run. She had sealed her fate. No longer was she the only surviving Magi that went against what her species said to was. Now, she was just like them, only wanting blood shed, one that would die.
“A..Adora..remember..Remember, all that we have been through. Together, us.” Catra stammered pitifully, trying to stall. She didn’t want to use the sword. It would only make the situation worse. Something that made her stomach coil, making it know it wouldn’t be good. It would be terrible. “We grew up together. Remember, w..we..we wanted to..to-“
Suddenly, static, pain. White-hot and instant ripped through her shoulder like blazing fire. Shooting through her body, causing her to lose her words. Gasping for breath, her vision blurred. Shaking where she stood, the Magi could make out Lonnie and Kyle, her former platoon mates, looming over her. Their sun guns, shifted to stunned, rather than kill. Crackling and giving one last crack, it drained the last of their charge.
Unlike Adora, who was hesitant worry, there was no warmth. No hesitation. Only cold and hatred was in their gaze as they lowered their weapons, holstering them. As Kyle went to Adora, Lonnie stepped forward, grabbing a fistful of her scruff. The rough grasp, send a holt of burning agony down her spine, earning a low hiss, teeth bared. She didn’t dare look defeated. Unbroken and snarling, her eyes burned.
Earning a sharp kick in her ribs, pain flared up. Knocking the air from her lungs, she coughed and gasped, blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth.
“Lonnie!” Adora’s voice sounded as if she was under water, distant and echoy. “Shadow Weaver said not to hurt her. She wants her unharmed. Her punishment will be dealt by her..”
This caused Catra’s stomach to drop, eyes dilating to needle point. Shadow Weaver! Hord! She couldn’t go back there. She wouldn’t survive.
Shadow Weaver would kill her.
In an instant, two thoughts collided. Her hands, trembling and shaking, searched and searched. Running around the spot where her former teammate, Lonnie, had torn the sword off her back, throwing it to the ground.
But, starting to get dragged away, it was starting to grow distant. Then, against all odds, her fingers brushed against it.
Then, blinding, pure white light poured into the clearing.
The gates of Bright Moon glimmered under the soft glow of the setting son. Shadowed by a golden hue, the three slowly trekked up the path, movements slow and staggering. They were weary and exhausted from the long journey from Thymor. Bow only felt exhausted while Catra and Glimmer were the ones that had taken the hardest blows, both injured. Glimmer, having drained her powers dry, felt as if she was weighed down by the weight of a thousand stones.
Catra was the one who had it the worse, who would have not been able to make it off the battle field if it wasn’t for Glimmer and Bow. She sagged more and more against Glimmer with each step. Her body was nearly crumbling beneath the heaviness of her body. Scattered amongst the already scarred pelt were still smoking burn marks from the tazers, a boot imprint over the left side of her cheek, and several poorly wrapped wounds that were already starting to turn red.
Her tail, despite the agony, still flicked back and forth, distressed. She had done the impossible, became a defector. Having betrayed her own people, of all she knew, there was no where to turn. She had nowhere to go.
Her ears pressed back as her gaze flickered over to Glimmer and Bow. They tried and failed several times to get her to talk, make any kind of noise. Both of them worried for her friend. They expected some kind of sassiness or even attempted joke but only got pained grimaces and low whimpering breathes.
Silently, Glimmer and Bow, were grateful to see the palace looming ahead of them.
Grand and bright, it still stood from when Glimmer’s own father, Micah, had tried and failed to fuel the rebellion. Now, it held guards and the queen, who did the best to offer aid to their people, not reaching out as Glimmer wished they could.
Using her last fleeting spray of power, Glimmer managed to get the door open before she staggered and slid down the wall, too exhausted to move. Bow now almost fully supported Catra, who was barely conscious. Her tail dragged on the ground, ears limply against her head. Even the grandeur of the hallway, adorned with banners of bright colors, now fading from a time before, did little to assure they would be alright, they would be safe.
“Glimmer!” A relieved voice of Queen Angella filled the hallway as she rushed to where the three teens were at. Her golden wings folded behind her back as she landed in front of them. Holding herself tightly, knowing she needed to keep herself together, there was still a hint of worry, of motherly love. “Where have you been?”
“Hey..” Glimmer didn’t offer much beside raising her head, completely worn out. “H..hey, Mom.”
“All of Bright Moon has been worried sick!” The queen immediately dropped into a crouch, looking over her daughter but found no injuries. “What were you thinking?”
“Mom!” Glimmer did not worry about herself. Catra needed immediate attention, needed help. There was more than the battle that happened. She looked utterly broken and disconnected.
“How could you be so selfish-“ Angella grabbed her daughter’s chin, forcing her to look at her. “S..so disobedient.”
“Mom!” Glimmer raised her voice, it cracking. She glanced at her mother, trying to move to where Catra lay, Bow hovering anxiously. “W..we need help. Our friend..She..she is..”
“You brought her here!” Angella was astonished at what her daughter brought before her. She did not see the injuries that the Magi had. But rather only focused solely on the signa that had been carved onto the skin of the teen. The signa of the enemy. “You brought one of the Horde here.”
“Mom..” Glimmer was desperate, not holding the rebellion of a daughter. But, rather fear. “Please. S..she-Catra is hurt bad. Please.”
Again, her gaze moved to the semi-unconscious figure of Catra. She was breathing in labored gasps, shivering. For the first time, she truly saw the Horde soldier as something different. A hurt child that had been forced into something she didn’t understand. A child soldier who had cuts, bruises, burns, all from being forced to fight.
“She is part of the problem,” She said at last, eyes dark. “Her people destroyed everything they touch, Glimmer. There is more than you would ever know.”
“She saved us!” Bow came to Catra’s defense. “S..she defected, Angella. S..she..She saved us. Glimmer and I would be dead without her.”
The queen knew that Bow, her daughter’s friend, was not the one to make tales as Glimmer might. With her injuries and thin state, Angella knew they were speaking the truth. The former horde solder, Catra, had defected, and now was a lost, hurt and broken teen with nowhere to go.
“Bow-“ Queen Angella might be an immortal Goddess that had gotten hardened through the centuries, especially in recent years since her husband passing. But, to the core, she was a mother. And, as a mother, she couldn’t turn away a hurt and unwanted child. “Take your friend to the infirmary. I will attend to my daughter. Once, she is awake, we will decide from what will happen than."