Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Age: 17

Adora?” a little voice whispers in the dark. Adora looks up from where she’s crouched in the closet, her hand closed around the rat in an iron tight grip. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah!” Adora says excitedly, forgetting to be quiet for just a second. Catra shushes her quickly. her furry head popping in through the door where she's keeping watch. 

“Come out then” She hisses, gesturing wildly with her hand "I think I'm hearing footsteps."

“Come in!” Adora whispers, opening the door wider for the feline to sneak through. “If we eat it here no one will see us. Then we won't have to share.’

“No!” Catra whispers, her eyes shining in the doorway, her fur sticking up as she glances around at the confined space, “I don't-”

“Why not-” she looks up at Catra’s ashen face, her ears tight against her head and her tail low between her legs. 

Adora had forgotten, Catra gets weird around tight spaces. She starts to breath funny when its too dark and too small. Its weird. The feline had taken to them so keenly as a kid. Crawling and shuffling through them to get just anywhere. 

"let's eat it at our spot" Catra whispers, sticking her hand in to help Adora out. 

Adora crawls out haphazardly instead, falling painfully to the steel floor, ignoring the squirming and biting of the rat in her hand. Catra breathes a sigh of relief and steps back to let Adora through, making sure not to drop the hatch of the vent on Adora’s head. 

Adora smiles gleefully and shows Catra her prize. The first one she’s caught. Catra herself is a natural, but recently, only when the rats come out to play. During winter, when the fright zone drops in temperature, they like to stay in the vents; where the warmest air circulates. Catra refuses to follow them in. 

Catra helps Adora snap its neck and stuff it in her shirt, a wide smile on her face. Anticipating a warm meal. Then she pushes Adora out the front door and up instead of down the beaten path to the simulation building. 

“Are you sure we can't just eat it in your bunk? I’m sure the rest of them wont be around for another hour” Adora gasps a breath and reaches out for Catra’s belt. she then uses it haul herself up, unbothered by the way Catra’s nails scratch deeply into the metal siding of the building.

“Let go of me, you brute” Catra swipes half heartedly at Adora. The blonde catches her hand and pulls her closer. Their noses inches from touching. 

“I'll kill anyone who tries to take it from you. I swear” she grabs the feline by the waist and pulls her closer, their hips pressing into each other. 

“You make weird jokes sometimes, Adora” Catra butts her head into Adora’s face all the same. “And this way we can be alone” she nips at Adora’s ear and presses her away. 

Adora grins and laughs, letting Catra tug her ponytail and pull her up the building. "but I always get a grin out of you"

"that's just how I frown" Catra says, settling down against the wall where the wind is blocked the best. 

“I wish we could be alone all the time.” Adora says when she reaches the top. Catra grins feral like and pulls Adora down to cuddle against her in the cold wind. 

“And I wish you would pull that rat out of your shirt and give it to me so I could have a bite” she crooks her finger into Adora’s coller. 

Adora grins and does as told. “I can't wait till its just me and you running this stupid place." Adora sighs, looking out over the Frightzoe, past the smog and the smoke and towards the Whispering woods, "we'll plant some trees in here and get the critters to come back.”

“I do love trees,” Catra admits, drawing a claw down the rat’s middle, careful to let it bleed over the side of the building. 

“And you love critters and fresh air” Adora takes a piece of meet from Catra’s claws and chews it thoughtfully. “And I... I like being with you. We’ll both be happy. And Etheria will be a better place”

“If this is you trying to get me to use team work in the group simulations the answer is still no." Catra says, licking the blood and juices from her fingers and cuddling deeper into Adora’s arms against the wind. "I enjoy coming in on the last second and taking all the  glory"

“Why not,” Adora groans, rubbing her nose subconsciously into Catra’s neck, “We'd be undefeatable together. Think of all the winners rations." 

Catra laughs heartily at that, nearly dropping her dinner. “We both know we'd just get bumped up to a harder group. I really don't want that. besides we have to let the rest of those assholes win every once and while. ”

‘I'd do better away from Shadow Weaver," Adora says, turning away from the feline. "We would. I think"

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A sharp whistle pierces the air. Catra ducks her head instinctively, her ears flattening as her shoulders curl forward, brushing her knees. She braces herself, muscles tensed, waiting for the incoming electrical shell to detonate against the still air.

she's only half surprised when it doesn’t.

The explosion never comes. Her lip pulls back in a snarl as she forces herself upright, claws flexing against the armrests of her seat. The soldiers lining the street before her don’t even flinch. Guns at the ready and eyes carefully avoiding Catra and her skiff. 

Behind her, her personal guard remains stiff and silent, their expressions unreadable behind their helmets. If they noticed her momentary lapse, they give no indication. Catra knows better than to assume they’re blind. Selling a Force Captain out is a quicker ticket to a promotion than killing them.

though, for the years they've followed her around like lost ducklings, they've never ratted her out for her.. missteps.  

They have always seem completely unbothered by her twitchy, jumpy nature. Steps into supply closets are seen as moments to take inventory of Horde resources, not lose her breath and feel her heart threaten to explode.  The train whistle had nothing to do with her involuntary duck, Catra was merely making sure her shoes were tied. 

The whistle fades as the train chugs away, It might have actually been the squeal of wheels on metal. Catra can't be too sure anymore, not with the state of her ears. 

She debates plugging her nose at the stench of burning coal but decides against it, she knows it won't help any. It'll just be a show of weakness, one she can't afford. The Frightzone has long been stripped of its flowers and smells, it remains the skeleton of a coal mine. Picked at by Hordak like a vulture's last starving meal. The once beautiful Scorpiana Kingdom has been reduced to bare bones.

The fountain in front of Catra is a sad, crumbling relic. A scorpion-woman carved from stone once stood tall, her claws outstretched, elegant and proud. Now, iron pipes break through her cracked body, gurgling out gray, murky water that stinks of moldy ration bars. The sludge sputters and coughs, a sound Catra knows all too well—like blood filling lungs on a battlefield.

The figure looks far too similar to a Force Captain Catra once knew. 

Catra sneers harder at the train, resting her chin on her hand and slouching in her chair. It should be fuller, they're wasting gas sending it off half filled. Cadets should be packed onto the train like sardines. Their one way ticket out of this hell hole is leaving

heavy flyers snap in the wind as the train takes off. ‘Hordaks fight for order’ they say, false, happy little cadets drawn under it. It should say ‘Hordaks fight for power’ with a big ‘fuck you’ written under that.

He’s going to need to change that poster soon. As of today, at 1500 hours, the last group of kids is shipped off to Gods know where. Catra has made sure of it, not a single child will be left standing in all of the fright zone once the day is done. 

Unfortunately, The cadets aren't even here yet, they are still marching through the Fright zone at the slowest pace possible. In Catra's day they would have been on that train at six in the morning without breakfast. these new recruits are complete wuss's. and that has nothing to do with Catra. 

She can hear them. Of course she can, even with her damaged ears, her hearing is better than anyone here. See them though? The malnourished rats have yet to appear. 

Catra sinks further into her chair, her tail curling around her leg,  her hands gripping her Comms pad tighter. If she doesn't get an update soon; Force Captain Taggart’s head won't be attached to his body for much longer. The naked Mole moose of a man was a constant pain in Catra's scarred side. He should be glad she hasn't fired and shipped him off to be a confederate yet. 

Catra glances at her watch, her teeth gritting. If they miss the next train they're going to have to wait until tomorrow for the next one. Catra is not listening to nine hundred children march back across the Fright zone and remake their sad little beds. She gets little sleep as it is. 

More importantly she isn't sure she will be able to get them out under Hordak's hawk-like watch. It's why today was so important. 

A single day where Hordak isn't here, isn't lurking in his cave, eyes glued to his camera's. Sure Hordak signed off on the "Cadet's of Etheria program" but he didn't really know what it entailed, if he did he would never have signed it. Catra is just lucky he doesn't read any of the amendments that actually make it to his office. 

Although, she isn't lucky to be the one who has the deal with the fall out

Catra lifts her leg onto the command board of her skiff, relieving the pain in her knee and hips. The brace, that is more a torture contraption, creaks loudly with the moment. It's been squawking like that since she got it and it's been happening for so long the guards on Catra’s skiff don't even bat an eye.

One does eye a bottle of greasing oil in the skiffs tool box. Catra steadfastly ignores the unsaid suggestion and rubs a hand into the top of her scarred knee, messaging away the worst of her pain. 

Catra groans in relief, closing her eyes against the harsh sun. She is developing a headache and the beading sun isn't helping any but to warm her fur and make her sweat.  That sky had once been filled with blessed smog but as Entrapta leaves, with her go to the technology. It seems she had been in the middle of converting the fright zone into a fossil fuel, free utopia in the middle of her Great Escape. 

With no one to finish the conversion most of Hordaks polluting technology collapsed like a house of cards. Entrapta took her genius and any hope the Horde had to get back to its former glory with her when she left. . 

The Guards behind Catra shift. she tenses, a brief thought of an attempted assassination crosses her mind but if someone wants her dead enough to bribe a guard that's been on her personal detail for three years then so be it. That's a lot of effort, they deserve it. 

Catra’s ear flickers at the sound of awkward jogging. Someone who definitely shouldnt be running is hobbling down the street towards the Force Captain at, not an alarming rate but one that has Catra squinting up past the sun and down the road. 

She sees the children first. Older cadets, but still children, marching with determination in the boiling sun. They look like little lined up army figures, the ones used in battle plays. The older larger cadets in front, puffed chests and orderly limbs. behind them the children only get younger. 

Force Captain Taggart runs ahead, a grimace smeared across his face. He lands awkwardly on his right leg with every step. He looks like a chicken with its head chopped off, running with no sense of direction but an other worldly determination. 

The old man stumbles in his slight jog, he had been a honored commander in the first attack against Brightmoon but since his injury he isn't much more than a babysitter. an overgrown babysitter at that. though, he is the only person Catra trusted enough to help her design a strategy to cut off Brightmoon’s supply of food without starving the already conquered cities. 

They had worked on that plan for months before setting it into effect. Both Taggart and Catra had been there when the roads were blown and the railways were conquered. It had been his idea to reuse the railways for their own gain but Catra's Idea to use the trains to poison The Rebellion's remaining wheat fields. A ghost train outfitted with dangerous sprayers, acid strong enough to reduce the rig to a pile barely operating bones by the time The Rebellion was able to finish it off. 

The once honored Captain Taggart stops before her Skiff, leaning down on his knees and sucking in labored breaths, all too similar to cadet after his first mandatory 5k. Out of breath and nearly to tears. Catra grants the man mercy and averts her eyes from his pitiful display. Giving the man a chance to catch his breath won't damage her reputation in the slightest. 

Catra sits back in her seat and watches as the cadets march. Their eyes flicker nervously to Catra as they pass before focusing ahead. The little ones can't stop themselves from turning their head towards her, mouths agape in horror. Catra smirks at them.  

She bares their teeth really, a threat. They laugh nervously, bumping into each other with jittery smiles. 

“Force Captain '' Taggart hands Catra his comms pad, the paperwork for this ‘overthrow of the cadet program’ already signed and dated by him, it's just waiting for Catra’s own signature. Her name is basically worthless now but she indulges the man anyways.  

“Captain Taggart '' Catra takes the tablet from the older man and scratches her name onto the document with a stylus. “Please enlighten me….”

Taggart no doubt gulps in fear, straightening to attention. it looks a bit like he's smiling at her indulgently but of course no one would disrespect Catra so.

“What are these sickly wastes of time and money still doing in quadrant B?” Catra rises to her full height. It doesn't so much in the ways of intimidation, seeing how anyone who can see, see's how Catra, bent over and crippled, stands unsteadily to her feat, leaning heavily on the back rest of her chair. “They were supposed to be moved out of the empire hours ago.”

“Well Catra, these 'sickly wastes of space' you have so lovingly cared for are.. Running a little behind schedule”

“I can tell”

“Don't worry Force Captain, they will be out of your hair in no time.” Catra runs a hand over her close cropped hair at that. Her nails dig slightly into her scalp with the pass. these kids will never be out of her hair now. After this little act of unconsidered treason Hordak will have the lives of these children running on Catra's tail for the rest of her sad, miserable life. Not that there's much of it left. 

“Yes," Catra concedes for Taggart's sake  "but not before they, and everyone else assigned to them, waste all my time and resources.” Catra petulantly collapses back into her chair. 

Tagagrt chuckles, unbothered by Catra’s glare. “You know what the kids are like, Catra. You've spent so much time with them” Taggart pats her shoulder and smiles when she hums. She knows all too well, she had been one of them. Even if her time had been a little different as a cadet in the Horde than it had been for any of these kids. 

“There's no real telling them what to do unless they wanted to do it first.” Taggart considers for a moment, his eyes tracing the marching children. "or you make them think it was their idea"

Catra scoffs, a smile on her face. Taggart is right. She's spent five years as a Force Captain with her own rounds of cadets cycling through her care. she's spent five years being a subpar teacher on strategy. She's spent years caring for and..

“If they aren't out of here by 1700 hours Captain, I'll have your head.” Catra looks out at the malnourished cadets, frail legs and hungry bellies. “Get them something to eat and get them the hell out of here.”

“Yes, Force Captain Catra.” Taggart chuckles, salutes and tucks the Comms pad into the satchel strapped across his chest. His eyes focused on Catra. He seems hesitant to say something else. It's not really like him. Having known Catra for most of her life, even if it was from afar, he's never really afraid to say whatever he wants to her. 

“Well, What is it?” Catra gestures to her skiff, the guards and the horde of kids marching before them. “No one can hear us over the roar of feral children”

“The kids like you” Taggart is hesitant, the words come out hurriedly, fast. Catra prepares herself for the emotional drivel about to leave the Force Captain's mouth. scoffing at the implication. Even she can see, with a brain as damaged as her own, the way they look at her. Even now the kids are almost daring each other to speak to the monster Catra has become. 

"I think a… Well, interacting with them would make them feel better. Maybe helping us hand out the rations or talking to them could boost their morale?” Taggart looks hopefully up at Catra and the feline needs to turn away in the face of it. 

“Feel better?’ Catra gestures to the trains chugging by “They should be fucking estatic! I'm giving them a one way ticket out of my fucking city.”

“To them it's less of a golden ticket and more of a.. Banishment?”

“Banishment?” Catra’s voice cracks just a little, her ears fall and glares at the children nearest her, ungrateful brats. “ They don't even know what banishment is. Maybe I'll send them to the crimson waste. Then they'll show a little gratitude.” The children before her, hurry their pace, eyes wide. 

“I would think.. they are feeling abandoned because they want to help so much.” Taggart sighs, his shoulders slumping. Catra hesitates at that, an ear twitching in Taggart's direction. 

“They have trained their whole lives to be part of this war and the moment they get the chance they get shipped off to only gods know where?”

Catra glares at the cadets, down turned eyes and pitiful pouts. Their marching form is terrible. Scuffing their boots on the floor and slack arms waving wildly about. Catra's own cadet leader would have punished her severely for such poor form. Catra herself is too weak to do it. No wonder the cadets are so ungrateful. it's her own fault. 

“They believe in what the Horde is doing, they thought they would be able to be a part of it” Taggart continues. 

“What the Horde is doing” Catra scoffs quietly. The only thing the ‘Great’ Horde is doing is taxing conquered city states, taking their crops and denying them access to travel, water, and help. The Horde is undeniable the Evil Horde and these kids have no idea. They are as brain washed as Adora once was. 

“They're out of luck. They can feel abandoned all they want in their new loving homes” Catra waves Taggart away. “Besides, I don't have the patience to deal with children anymore. All the questions and the whining. It really grates on the nerves.”

“It's only natural they're curious about your stories, Catra. You've fought She-ra one on one, you've done some amazing-”

“All i've done is follow orders' ' Catra snarls, lifting her leg back up on the control console. “If they want something to ooh and aw over they can go join the marine team, get some fucking experience of their own''

Taggart sighs and leans back in his seat. His eyes leaving Catra’s and focusing on the children. Catra’s ears flatten to her head at the man's disappointment. She growls and waves at him with her clawed hands as if to brush away his pouty face. 

“This is a good thing you're doing, ” he digs around in his satchel, pulling out a brown wrapped package, “I just wish you could see it to,”

“I'm doing what's best for the Horde, like I always have” Catra eyes the package with a renewed perked attitude, missing his sad smile. 

“This is from my visit to Mount Candilla.” he says, handing it over to Catra’s waiting hands. For the first time all day her lips tick up in the ghost of a smile. Taggart leans closer to the Captain, his head bowing. 

“The people who received those.. packages.. were very grateful” He murmurs, his eyes flitting to the guards on Catra’s skiff. Her own itching to lock onto the glint of light flashing from the skiffs control panel.  She doesn't have the heart to tell him that they can hear everything they say no matter how quietly they talk. A parting gift from Entrapta. 

“They wanted to give you more,” 

“They have no reason to give me anything,” Catra says loudly. Taggart jumps back at her indiscretion. All his whispering is going to make Hordak suspicious. She busies herself running her hands over the plain packaging “thank you… for getting me a souvenir from your travels, Taggart. you know how cooped up I get here” 

“Of course” Taggart mumbles, tapping the package three times. Catra stiffens but her face doesn't give anything away. For the first time all evening her eyes flitter to the camera. It isn't supposed to be noticeable, stuck between the buttons on her skiff. But Catra has always had a knack for detail. 

“Get out of my sight, Force Captain Taggart” Catra says, tucking the package into her belt and turning away from the man. “You have rats to dispose of.”

“If you mean the children. Then yes I do” Taggart smiles at Catra before standing with a groan. 

“And I if see you running like that again I'll get you removed from the board” Catra says, pointing to his leg, “I’m going to have to bleach my eyes after seeing that pitiful display”

Ay ay, Captain Cripple '' Taggart teases, pushing the cane leaning against the command board over and into Catra’s gut. The feline wheezes and glares at the old man.

“Are you off then?” he asks, stepping down from the skiff.

“I’ve wasted enough time here as it is,” Catra mutters, swinging her leg off the control board and sitting upright in her seat. Her voice is sharp, her tone clipped. “If I hang around any longer, Hordak will have my head... and then some.”

“Right” Taggart murmurs, his eyes trained on the guards. 

She raises a hand in a wave as he backs away from the skiff. She starts it with a roar, a hand going to steady herself on her chair. He returns it, his back already turning towards her. 

It isn’t until much later, alone in the privacy of her sanctum with the guards stationed just outside her door, that she finally opens the package. Unease churns in her gut; the three deliberate taps on the wrapping were enough of a signal. This isn’t just some routine delivery. Even if it's carried in a present she would like. 

Taggart never fails to keep her entertained, even when work comes disguised as leisure. Inside, she finds a small, gray book wrapped neatly in brown paper.

Catra slides the book free, hands sliding across its smooth leather. It's older than the books she usually likes, probably a classic pulled from some old lady’s personal collection. 

Her fingers tracing the smooth leather cover. It’s older than the ones she prefers—she’s more interested in modern horror than dusty classics. Still, Taggart must’ve thought she’d like it. Either that, or he was low on options and grabbed the first thing he could find.

“This Is How You Lose the Time War” is etched on the spine in faded letters, a small red bird embossed on the front. Catra traces the delicate design with a claw, a faint smile tugging at her lips. But when she flips the cover open, it isn’t the start of a story she finds.

It's scribbled, hastily in Taggarts and someone else's writing. Neat and efficient. Catra doesn't even need to read the rest of it to know what it is saying. Her lip curls.

They think they’re helping, but the truth is, there’s nothing anyone can do to stop the Horde now. The rebellion is crippled. The roads are ruins, the train tracks overtaken by bandits, and the rebellion’s food supply has been severed for weeks.

 There’s only one reason a village throws away food it desperately needs. Its because someone else needs it even more. 

The rebellion's food supply has been cut off for weeks, roads have been reduced to ruins and any train tracks that haven’t been turned over to the horde are covered in bandits. Mount Candilla is barely a hundred miles from where (Catra thinks) the rebellion has been stationed. Hordak believes them to be hiding away like roaches in the crimson waste. 

Mount Cadilla can easily smuggle a few boxes of food out without Hordak noticing. Especially knowing that Hordak is looking in the exact wrong place. food could go missing without a guard noticing even. 

The guards might be helping. 

If Hordak found out though, there would be nothing Catra, or Taggart, could do to help them. Their city would be reduced to ash, their farms covered in acid. They would be interrogated, starved and then killed as a symbol. 

Catra rips the page from the book, and pulls a lighter from a drawer. She burns the paper over the kitchen sink and watches as the ash falls into the drain. She rinses all evidence of the page ever existing from the stainless steel. The book she sets next to her bed. It rests there next to the others, all with a miarade of pages torn out and all of them read. Some are full of annotations. 

Catra doesn't have time to read it now, her attention is drawn to the map of Etheria settled over her Comms table. Her papers are centered around Selaneas, the seagate itself is circled in red. It pains her to collapse back in the uncomfortable chair but she forces herself to go over the battle plan one last time. If everything goes smoothly, as she planned it, Selaneas should remain relatively standing. Although the people there would rather die than be under Horde jurisdiction. 

That mission is today. Most of the Horde soldiers are out fighting in it. Including Hordak himself. Over seeing what is meant to be his greatest victory. It's why today was such a good day to get rid of the cadets. The Fright zone was empty and the trains were hauling nothing but food and ammunition across Etheria. There’s enough room to stack Cadets like sardines and get them into city states across the country. 

Catra eases herself into the chair, a hand going to her head and lowering her shades over her brow. The lights in her Comms room are harsh, far too bright. They pierce her eyes and into her injured brain like a lobotomy. The dark lenses offer little relief but enough to allow Catra's eyes to open enough to read battle plans. 

Her notes are still feathered out, she doesn't tend to file them until after the battle is either won or lost. She’ll usually go back over them with each Force Captain’s debrief notes. See what the enemy did in response to her attack. 

It's almost like she’s there, in the battle. She can see what the Force Captain did wrong, how the rebellion responded and how she would have reacted. It's almost as entertaining as bothering Sprinkles has been when Catra was in the field. 

Right now though, all Catra can do is wait anxiously. Her foot tapping against the floor and waiting for at least one Force captain to check in. 

She had been on a call with Force Captain Scurvy before she had left to see the cadets off. The Horde had been in position, Boats ready for when the Sea gate came down. Land crew in stand by and ready to be deployed. 

They had just been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Catra just hopes they didn't choose the wrong one. 

She doesn't get a call that night, She gets a message from Taggart that he’s on the road, all Cadets accounted for, but that's it. 

Her eyes strain on her notes until the lights shut off on their own and when she can no longer take squinting through the darkness of her own room she curls into her covers. Her brace leans against her bedside table, next to the book with a missing page. She shouldn't have sent them those rations, that information. an action she severely regrets but wouldn't hesitate to make again. 

They were starving, yes, but if Hordak finds out they’ll be dead. Maybe she will be.

Catra curls around her leg, pulling the blankets further up her body. They're cold, scratchy. The air duct lets out little air, and takes even less in. the staleness of the room dries her eyes, they refuse to close anyway. 

She should fix the vent. She knows how. She’s been in them enough time to have figured it out. Catra doesn't see a point though. If the Horde takes Silaneas today, she won't be around long enough to enjoy it. 

Catra doesn't sleep much. Her eyes train bleary on that air duct above her. 

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younger Catra

Catra is very late. Yes, for the battle simulation that Shadow Weaver oh so carefully strategized, but more importantly for the seminar. 

Catra would slit a throat if anyone found out. A seminar is not something her reputation would be able to handle. Catra just couldn't help herself though. Once she heard who was teaching it Catra was already half way through planning how to skive off the battle simulation and halfway into a vent. 

Catra slithers through the vents like a snake. She doesnt fit as well as she used to, the larger ration sizes cadets get once they past their 12 year is to blame, but Catra can still crawl through with little to no noise. Nothing except for the occasional rustle of fur and near silent clicks of nails on metal, small enough noises they could be passed off as a passing rat.

She’s all long limbs and agile strength now, While shadow Weavers conditioning is hard on Catra’s instincts it does a lot for her muscle. Climbing into the vent had been easy. Her legs pushed hard against the floor and sent her shooting towards the lip of the vent with little effort. 

She should be at the simulation. Adora is probably wondering where she is now, stalling for her maybe. Catra might be able to sneak in before it ends, get a couple hits in on holographic warriors and pretend she had been there the whole time. But she isn't counting on that. 

There’s supposed to be a question portion after the lecture for nerds who need more time with a battle strategies master. Not that she would ever willingly stay for such an embarrassing shit show.

Adora will ask why she’s causing problems, rocking the boat. Shadow Weaver will call her insolent. She’ll probably give Catra a shock for her trouble, maybe worse. But it'll be worth it. 

Weaver’s lessons are all about brute strength, muscling your way through, do as you're told. It's perfect for pretty meatheads like Adora but Catra survives off of different strategies. What Weaver sees as cheating, Catra sees it from a different angle. 

Why muscle your way through when you can jump over, take out a few princesses on your way? Brute strength seems silly when you can build a contraption to do it for you with less effort. 

Its why Catra likes the mechanic classes so much. Skiffs that can move a thousand tons, steam powered ships (while not Catra’s favorite) are amazing technological advancements. Half the man power for a much larger pay out. 

Strategie plans were made for Catra. Half baked ideas are where she thrives. You want to get from point A to point B without an all out battle? Give Catra an hour, a map, and the size of the battalion about to avoid conflict. 

That’s why Catra is going to go and actually learn something for once. It's why she’s sneaking through the vents.  A seminar on Battle strategies for the average cadet. Taught by Force Captain Taggart himself. 

She grins as the Vent starts to echo, not because of her but because of what's on the other side of the metal. A lecture hall, usually used as an assembly room, has enough seats to fit every cadet in the fright Zone. Maybe every cadet in the world. 

Catra crawls forward, the light from the room splashing across her face in lines. Her vent ends right between the chairs and the stage. Catra is closer than anyone else to Force Caption Taggart. Not that anyone will ever know it. 

Catra can hear that the seminar has already started. Her heart races in anticipation. She hurries her way forward, the shuffling of her body going unnoticed in the ruckus of the room. 

“Does everyone have their class passes?” a deep, gravely voice shouts, impatiently, into the microphone. “If you lose yours and get a whipping for missing class its not my fucking fault.”

Catra’s smile goes impossibly wider. A twinkle deep in her eyes. 

“Jesus christ these kids smell bad” Taggart mumbles quietly, coughing when the microphone picks it up and echoes it across the auditorium. “Okay! Let's get started why don't we”

Force Captain Taggart, a sight to behold. A war hero in the flesh, a myth of a man. Catra would call him her idol but she hates war history and anything to do with work, or training. 

Taggart’s uniform is crooked, his steps uneven. Home from an injury caused by an enemy munitions explosive. It's been said his leg was blown clean off but he grabbed all the pieces and burnt himself back together on an overheating tank engine to finish the fight. 

Catra definitely doesn't believe that. 

He holds the microphone in a shaky but firm grip. His voice screeches out across the less than half empty room. “Welcome cadets to whatever the hell this is supposed to be” he introduces, one hand lands on his hip and he starts to pace. 

“You're here because this was better than conditioning” he smiles ruefully at the hall's quiet chuckling. “so , anyone not actually interested in strategy and formation better buckle up for the long hall. This is going to be very boring for you”

“Buckle up?” Catra murmurs, stretching out in the vent and resting her chin on her folded arms. 

Then Taggart jumps into his lecture, and Catra is mesmerized. Like a cat with its eyes on a bird, Catra watches Taggart (and his many slides of battle formation) as he drones on about failed and succeeding plans of action. 

Cadets in the audience slowly slump back as they fall asleep. Some of them don't even try to fake the slow blinking into unconsciousness. Catra sees more than a few pillows smuggled from Bunk rooms. 

Catra’s attention stays caught in Taggart's snare. He lectures less and tells war stories more. Times he got out of sticky situations with nothing but a severed thumb and a pocket knife. Times he led his troops away from certain death. 

 Her excitement grows when Taggart pulls up a slide of the very First One’s tech that puts the Horde on the map. A tank he had helped develop. If it wast for Taggarts quick thinking the tech that powers these monstress beauties would have been lost to the rebellion. The tanks are crude and still powered on first ones chips but real. Thick metal hulls and lasers with enough juice to punch through brick walls. 

These things are the only reason the Horde could be this influential, powerful. Technology the likes of which the Princesses had never seen. It turned tides in the war quicker than the discovery of an ancient super weapon could. 

It's a fascinating subject Catra would never be interested in. 

(fun fact: in WW1 the invention of the tank really is what turned the tides of trench warfare. Tanks could withstand enemy fire and crawl over trenches and wire like it was nothing.)

“Five years ago I was on a exploratory mission to the northern reach with none other than his royal majesty Lord Hordak himself.” Taggart begins with a slightly more excited expression.  

“He had been in his prime of field work and wanted to set up an outpost here” Taggart pulls up a picture of a snow covered hut. Next to it is a variety of snow drills and water skiffs. “The northern reach. Cold and unforgiving, when your not fully prepared this place WILL kill you”

Taggart pulls a flask from his jacket and takes a swig, an amused expression on his face. “And oh , were we unprepared alright. Hordak was convinced we would find First One’s technology there. This was back one the properties of the artifacts where still mostly unknown. Hordak would gain the upper hand of the war from this finding but first we needed to get them out.”

Catra bites her lip when the slide is replaced with another. Rebellion ships covered in ice cutting through freezing water. 

“It would have been easy if it wasn't for the unfortunate timing of the PA. Known more formally then as the Princess Alliance.” Taggart, who had lowered himself reluctantly into a chair midway through his lecture, runs a hand through his hair. 

“The first one’s tech was small and sleek. It boxed easy and we managed to get it all on one small water skiff. But, we were surrounded. We had the speed on our side, and we were small but that was about it. 

“We were outnumbered.” he smiles up at the Rebellion ships, a gold canine glinting in his mouth. 

“What do we do?” Taggart is asking the crowd. He really thinks this murder of snoozing cadets will be able to answer the question but Catra knows they can't. 

She can. She had read the report Taggart himself had written after the mission had been completed. To get to the tech they had drilled long steep tunnels with a laser, one that mined slow but effectively. The downside is that they had melted so much ice the water built up, Ice acted like a dam before slowly starting to melt all on its own. By the time Lord Hordak had completed his exertion into the northern reach there had been an underground river roaring a hundred tons strong. 

In his report Taggart says it led into the ocean where the fresh water mixed with salt. Taggart had only known where it led for one reason. He had almost drowned there. 

“We’re surrounded on all sides by Rebellion ships. No way out. We have a water skiff, a slippery tunnel and a couple boxes of First One’s junk.” Taggart leans forward, his hand reaching up and resting on the podium. “What did we do?”

He’s met with a silent room but a vent that mumbles inaudibly. “White water raft down the coldest river rapids in all of Etheria” 

Catra smiles sympathetically at Taggarts disappointed frown. He flips to the next slide, one of a water skiff being pushed through the snow and towards a large, gaping tunnel. 

“Well, if no one can answer” Taggart sits back and waits another second for someone to step forward. He sighs at another round of silence. Taggart takes a breath, Catra leans forward to hear what he’s about to say. “We-”

A bell screams, interrupting Taggart and making Catra jump hard enough to slam her head into the top of the vent. The sound goes unheard underneath the sound of the dinner bell. The auditorium goes up in a cheer and Cadets start streaming out faster than any underground river could flow. 

Catra sighs in disappointment, resting her forehead onto her folded arms. Taggart doesn't even try to get the cadets ordered or anything. He just throws the microphone in the vague direction of the sound guy and leans back in his chair, he pulls from his flask again. 

Catra stays put, her eyes focused on the scene of the skiff and the tunnel. While it hadn't been a battle strategy per say it had been genius. Avoiding a battle all together is the best strategy you can come up with. 

Catra and Taggart stay put even when the room is empty. Taggart seems to have fallen asleep, his arms folded over his chest and his head slumped. Catra stays still because her arms and legs have fallen asleep themselves. She doesn't want to get caught trying to sneak through the vent on limbs she can't feel. 

“Don't you need a pass?” Taggart asks, the empty room. Catra is half convinced he was talking to her. She opens her mouth before slapping a hand over it. He doesnt know she is here. She can’t blow her cover by foolishly answering a question not directed at her. 

“Well, are you going to answer?” Taggart asks the empty room. He might be sleep talking. His body still relaxed in his chair. 

Then he looks up. Not in the room around him, or into a part of the auditorium Catra can't see, But straight into the vent. His eyes locked on Catra’s own. 

Catra freezes, her eyes widening. Then she closes them quickly with a swear. Her eyes reflect light better than a fucking mirror. He’s probably been able to see her this entire time. 

“I'm not sure why you chose to squeeze yourself into a vent instead of sitting in one of the many remaining chairs but props to you for not getting caught” he takes another swig of his flask before shoving it into his coat pocket. “Until now” 

Catra leans her head into the grate of the vent and groans. 

“You're the only one who was even listening” Taggart gestures for Catra to come out, his lip quirking into a smirk when she easily slips the vent door off and slides out from the vent, her feet slapping against the metal floor. 

"Y-You strategies are amazing” Catra covers the squeak in her throat with a cough, setting the vent door down to lean against the wall. 

“I know,” Taggart sighs, eyeing Catra. “Did you want to hear how the story ends?”

“You rafted down the underwater river on a half working, medieval water skiff and a frayed rope tying you to the deck, “ Catra answers, coming to stand tentatively in-front of the Force Captain. She winces as her answer comes off a little to teacher pet. Adora would be scoffing if she had heard it, for all the times Catra has made fun of her for her inability to keep her hands down in class. 

Taggart smirks, “And how, might I ask,  do you know that”

Catra freezes, her eyes widening, her ears flattening to her head.  She takes a half step back from taggart. 

"I-"

“You're not in trouble, kit.” Taggart chuckles, a hand running between his curled horns and down his main, “but only someone with access to sensitive files would even know that information. 

Catra did have access to sensitive files. If by access he means she stole them. She hadn't been able to read much, the files feathered out around her as she crouched in Shadow Weavers precious sanctum. Her nocturnal eyes squinting through the darkness and transfixed on Taggarts account of strategy and escape.

When Shadow Weaver had found her there, files clutched in her claws and eyes flying across the page, Catra had not been punished lightly. 

"Uhm" is Catra's intelligent response. 

“The files don't tell you everything though, some things were purposely omitted,” 

Catra glances up at the man in surprise, her ears standing at attention. Taggart takes notice. 

“That got your attention didn't it” Taggart smiles ruefully. “You look like a smart cat though so I'll let you in on the real story.”

Catra leans forward to listen, her eyes excitedly flitting across Taggart’s face, “please do” is her quiet answer

“The cavern was scary as hell” Catra grins at the man's admittance, “not because of those terrible rapids but because of the monsters they released, the monsters Hordak released.’

“Hordak released?”

"In his desperation to shake the PA from our tails, Hordak set off the blaster cannon randomly, hoping to melt sheets of ice and send them crashing down on the princesses. In his haste. He released something far more heinous. Something that didn't care what it killed as long as it was dead.” The fur on the back of Catra's neck stands at attention. she had never been one for scary stories, her fear iron willed and locked behind closed doors. but Taggart's bravery voice instilled a certain kind of unease in her. 

“What was it?” Catra asked, fully aware she sounded like a cadet getting tucked in with a bedtime story. 

“No one knows, they were larger than a skiff, larger than a tank, with scaly white skin that wouldn't be permeated no matter the weapon. Their faces opened into wide gaping tooth filled holes that could swallow anything shoved down there.”

Catra clutches her fingers together in a locked grip, the image of faceless holes waiting to swallow her in the darkness causes her to check her blond spots and give the auditorium a thorough scan, just in case the monsters followed Taggart home all those years ago. 

“They could have been some kind of mutated worm or a mad scientist's failed experiment but I'll tell you what, They were freaks of nature.

How did you escape?” Catra asks, her fingers tying together as she takes a step into the man's space. she nearly reaches out to touch his knee, as if the contact could transport her deeper into the man's story. as if only by touching him she could be there with him. 

“We were nearly dead, the cannon had malfunctioned and refused to be turned back off. We did the one thing we could.” Taggarts eyes glint with mischief

“What did you do?” Catra asks, on the edge of her metaphorical seat. 

“We showed  that cannon down the worm's throat and watched it explode.”

Catra mouth drops open in glee. “You what?!”

“The worm went in four different directions and was reduced to a thousand different pieces.” Taggert leans forwards on his knees. 'The worm's little friends saw its bloody remains and took off for their little burrows, the blast sent the PA careening miles behind us and sent us shooting back out onto the open sea.’

“Catra smiles gleefully at the images. Princesses scramble for purchase as their boat nearly goes under. Force captain Taggart skips across salty waters and back to the fright zone. Catra is so entranced that she doesn't notice the shadows growing longer, or the eerie dripping of coolant quieting. 

"cadet Catra" the feline freezes, her eyes widening. Taggart's eyes widened at the small girl's response to two simple words. His eyes follow the Shadow lurking across the auditorium floor. "how interesting that I find you here, slacking off, when you should have been in the simulation with the rest of your squadron"

"Shadow Weaver" Catra stands at attention, her current relaxed posture snapping like a rubber band. her heels nearly clacking together and the force of her stance. "I was-"

"You were what?' Shadow Weaver nearly snarls. Catra can't help the flinch that wracks across her body in response to Shadow Weavers crackling electricity. 

"She was my assistant today" Taggart responds, standing from his chair with a groan. Shadow Weaver's eyes flip up to the man that, at his full height, Nearly towers over the shadowy woman. "What could be so important that you need to interrupt her as she does her job?"

Shadow Weaver makes a show of glancing down at the man's Force captain badge, her eyes visibly widening at what she sees. In an instant she turns on the charm. her posture relaxes from its lurking shadow. her mask, if it could, sweetens almost. 

"the honored Force Captain Taggart" Shadow Weavers eyes crinkle in an unseen smile. "I was just making sure my ward here got home safely. you know how mothers are. their children get out of their sight and they start flipping over cars and such "

Taggart eyes the woman's willow arms and raises an eyebrow. "sure" is his response. 

"I'm so sorry Catra here had the gall to interrupt your special seminar, I'll be sure to make sure it doest happen again." Shadow Weaver places a shockingly cold hand on Catra's shoulder. a fizzle of electricity transferring from her palm to Catra's fur. 

"Like I said," Taggart responds. putting a hand on Catra's other shoulder and tugging her toward him, away from the witch. "Catra was my assistant today, beyond helpful" Catra forces a smile at Shadow Weaver, playing into Taggart's ploy and leaning into the man's heavy side. He's warm, warmer than any force captain Catra has ever met. not that she has had the chance to lean into many of their sides. Most force captains are more "force" than "captain".

"my apologies but I need Catra to sort a few more of my files before I send her off to the canteen. you understand i'm sure" it's a clear dismissal. one so clear that Catra has never heard it directed at Shadow Weaver before. a higher ranking officer than her was a very rare occurrence indeed. Catra expects her Force Captain to send Taggart flying across the room slamming into the sidewall and knocking the breath from his lungs. Instead, in a way that Catra has never seen, Shadow Weaver simply nods her head. her eyes are on Catra, heavy with anger. 

"Of course force Captain Taggart, I'm deeply sorry for getting in your way." Catra is frozen to the spot in shock. 

"happens to the best of us" Taggart smiles and directs Catra back to the podium he had started his seminar at, directing her in which files within which folders. Catra wasn't paying much attention, her eyes were focused on Shadow Weavers lurking form as she left in shame. Catra doesn't know the feeling warming her chest, it's one she's sure Adora would be familiar with, admiration. 

looking into the kind eyes of a Force Captain out ranking Shadow Weaver herself, Catra feels admiration. Maybe for the first time In her life. 

--------)0(--------

“Force captain, Catra,” The soldier, covered in dust, mud, and debris, is barely older than a cadet. Scrawny and underfed, the boy straightens to attention, his heels clicking in a perfect captain's solute. If Catra was a lesser Captain she would compare the soldier to herself, when she was a young cadet. Snapping to attention in the face of the one woman she feared the most. She refuses to think how much she has become like Shadow Weaver. 

Catra waves him away with a hand and leans heavily on her cane before the solid medal doors of the load out. Her throat is scratchy, unused to the amount of speaking she's done today, and could surely use a glass of water. A debrief with every Force Captain who went on the Salineas mission was harder than she thought. The cadet smiles shyly and places his hand on the scanner to let her in. 

The door beeps an ugly red and forces Catra to squint her eyes. It opens to the sound of hundred of tired soldiers running debrief drills. An unwelcome noise and one that sends Catra snarling. The soldiers nearest her take a step back at her face. Catra ignores them.

Only one more and she's done. Then she can go back to her bed. Lay down on the hard mattress. The thought soothes her even if she knows that It's a bald faced lie. After this she has to write a report with every detail the Force Captains could remember for Hordak to read.

By read Catra means judge based solely on the word count. 

"Force captain Catra, what do I owe the pleasure?” Captain Scurvy grits out from between his teeth as Catra approaches the man. Catra smirks and leans forward on her can, into the man's space. He might not be her favorite Force Captain, but getting a rise out of him reminds her of the good old days, mostly the days where Catra's main concern was chasing sparkles around and distraction the biggest, dumbest lug Etheria had ever seen. 

“Scurvy” she says sweetly, relaxing into the tone she grew up with. disrespect. “Do I need a reason to see my favorite underachiever?”

Scurvy snarls harder than he already was, his fist tightening on his clipboard. His angry reaction sends an unreasonably happy thrill through Catra's bones. The tiredness that was creeping up on her nearly dissipates. “You usually do have one Force Captain. I was just assuming"

“Then I guess you know me all too well” Catra lets her lips drop back into their natural grimace and tears the clipboard from the Captain's grip. “Yours, is the only report I'm still waiting on Scurvy. Seems to be a repeat occurrence.”

“Well, as you can see, I have the largest army of, remaining, new recruits. Makes it a little bit harder for me to find time to sit down and write a stupid play by play of a battle that, anyone who is important enough to know about, should have been there.” Catra's teeth grit. 

The blow hit home. Catra can't stop herself from whacking the captain across the temple with his own clipboard. She smiles at the pained groan. Scurvy knows better than to retaliate. Catra might not be very well respected now, nothing more than Hordak's little pet planner, but a hair out of place on her head means death. Unless the misplacement of that hair is by Hordak's own hand of course. 

Not that Catra is very scared of it. Dead that is. Even in her crippled state she could take this thin man.  

Scurvy straightens again when he finds the strength. His hands clenched into fists at his side. 

“If you can't find the time to write a report for Hordaks own archives,” Catra shoves the clipboard into a passing soldier's hand, gripping the girl by the shoulder and forcing her to stand before scurvy. “You can repeat your report to me now, and your “inexperienced” soldier here, will write it down”

Scurvy’s teeth grit together harshly and he tries to gesture around to the frantically moving cadets “as you can see I'm very busy-”

Catra sticks two fingers in her mouth and blows. The effect is a piercing whistle that sends the room stumbling into a stop, all eyes on her. she smiles at her new found attention even though their curious eyes send uncomfortable ripples through her stomach. 

“Does anyone need Captain Scurvy's assistance now or ever?” she asks. The silence that follows is enough for her. 

“Oh, look at that, it looks like you have a free moment in your very busy schedule” Catra shoves the soldier with the clipboard forward. “So go ahead, report on Salineas. Now”

Scurvy glares bloody murder, Glancing around the room in his embarrassment before finally.

“Mission was successful, Silaneas fell at 0600 hours this morning when the Seagate finally went down.” The soldier hesitates, but when Catra gives her a push she starts to furiously transcribe Scurvy's words. “ Queen Glimmer, princesses Mermista, Frosta, Perfuma, and the Princess of Power were there to defend what was left of the rebellion but they did little damage to the troops. 

Catra raises a scarred eyebrow at the destruction the troops are in around her. Skiffs are in shambles and covered in slash marks that Catra would remember anywhere. Only big enough to have come from a sword and done with enough power to come from a mecha. If this is what Scurvy thinks untouched looks like, Catra wants to see what in shambles is to him. 

The soldiers around her are either singed or soaking and many of them are still using lighters to melt ice off their bodies. 

“At 0500 hours Force Captain Octavia got her damaged electrical cannon back on line and was able to return fire at the seagate which led to its timely fall. “

"What happened to Octavia's cannon?” Catra asks, eyeing Scurvy's own canon that had been, obviously, cleaved in two. 

“The water princess's waterlogged it but Octavia was able to dry it out with a stray fire just in time-”

There's a crash behind Catra, a series of metallic clinks and then a rolling thud as something hits her tactical boots. she doesn't even acknowledge it, she would know that heavy thunking anywhere. 

“Duck and cover!” a squeaky soldier's voice screeches, and the surrounding soldiers. Scurvy included, scramble. Bodies thunk behind ruined Skiffs, heads duck below canon entrances. 

Catra’s heart is racing faster than a rabbit but her face doesn't show it, her head tilts down. The blinking cannon bomb glares up. Catra makes no move to run, duck for cover, or even face away from the impending explosion. No matter how fast she is, even before her body was blown to bits, Catra knows she isn't fast enough to out run this.  

She didn't think she would go out this way. She was always a 'go big or go home' kind of girl. they should have let her die in the portal. The at least the Rebellion could have stood a chance. 

Seconds pass, It doesn't explode. The shell is a dud. Catra looks up unimpressed at Scurvy, the man cowers behind his own human shield. The soldier with the clipboard holds in infront of her face as if it could have protected her from the blast.

“Get your damned soldiers in order, Force Captain” Catra kicks the shell away and watches as soldiers scramble like it will explode again. “Your hanger is a shithole” she sneers at the man and swipes the shaking clipboard from the woman's hands, "get your report on my desk for 1600 hours or I'll come down to your office myself and watch you write it."

Catra limps from the room, her soldiers marching behind her in form. They don't mention it when Catra leans heavily against the wall outside the door, hand pressed firmly to her chest.

--------)0(--------

Humans have feelings, thoughts, wants. They feel empathy. They look at others and see who they are, not what they are. Catra had once assumed she had that too. No matter what Shadow Weaver had told her.

She knows now that she was wrong. Weaver was right, she always had been 

Catra has instincts. Primal desires. Not wants. She easily gets the two confused. A simple mistake: Catra is the monster that kills little critters. Not because she wants to, but because she has to. she has to survive, just like anyone else. 

When she sees it, the moment one pounces, she’ll take it, crack bones with her teeth and suck out the marrow, sink her fangs to the jugular of her prey. It doesn't matter how you felt when she did it. Because Catra does not concern herself with empathy, or other people. 

She doesn't care about the wants, or needs . Catra feels nothing but her instinct, her primal desire, to stay alive. That is what she tells herself in the face of Hordak's anger. 

Why he’s angry Catra doesn't know. He doesn't seem to either. This doesn't stop him from throwing a hissy fit, from sending clone filled pods crashing and splashing onto the floor. It doesn't stop his fist from connecting with Catra’s jaw. 

Catra stays standing through the sure force of will, her head crooked to one side and staring at the ruins that have become his sanctum. The walls are barely standing, the ceiling has dents that could become the sun spots Catra has always wanted in the Horde.

I bruise will surely from there but there's nothing the feline can do about it now. Her fur will cover it better then any makeup ever could. She stands up straighter, straining her back and biting down a grimace. 

“Pathetic” Hordak growls, standing over Catra in trembling range. His body suit hisses and outputs steam like a tank engine. Blood leaks from the cracks in his armor. Catra isn't sure why. Hordak hasn't been in the field since before the Horde became a super power. Watching his Force Captains take down a nation shouldn't have had him lifting even a finger. “Your ‘strategies’ are making the Horde slower than they have ever been.”

Catra had thought they had done pretty good. Salineas has fallen. Fallen as much as Catra would allow it too, anyway. The kingdom still stands but the princess and her guards have been driven out, the people accounted for and the resources purged. 

The Kingdom would have a hard winter but so would the Horde, an empire that just grew over 50 thousand stronger. 

Hordak had wanted to take down the Seagate. Destroy it. Destroying an ancient defense mechanism they could use to their own advantage. It still stands of course, proudly defending the Horde from all sea attacks and forcing supply boats for the rebelling to dock thousands of miles down the coast. It'll take out the rest of the rebellion's resources before they even know what hit them. 

“My ‘strategies’ prevent people from dying. Unnecessary casualties would send back our army months if not years.” Catra stays calmy still, refusing to flinch as Hordak stalks closer.

“my army is over a hundred thousand strong” Hordaks breath is usually cold and oil filled. Catra would assume he was cold blooded if it wast for the bursts of steam that stream out from his body armor. but today hot breath sinks into her fur. Catra has to fight the urge to vomit. “It can stand to lose a few thousand”

“If you find a way to convince the Force Captains; Better yet, the soldiers, that they should be throwing themselves into death so you can conquer this planet faster, I will gladly change my battle tactics.” 

Catra has gone too far. Hordak’s hunched and straining form is all the warning she needs to take a step back and avoid a striking claw. although, it turns out it wasn't necessary. A step away from the feline Hordak bends over, his hands flying to his midsection. 

Maybe he had joined the fight. Blood seeps from between his fingers like water through a crack. It splatters against the floor wetly and reminds Catra all to much of- 

Her eyes fly to the clone pods. The green liquid rippled with the constant tremble of the Fright Zones atmosphere. 

“Lord Hordak, are you al-”

“Get out” Hordak growls, he forgets Catra’s former transgressions and hunches over his control panel, the one that had been reduced to rubble on the day of Scorpia’s great escape. The one Hordak had almost killed Catra over. The feline rubs at her face, her fingers skating over the scar tissues splitting her lip into a cleft. 

Catra quickly turns and hobbles from Hordak’s sanctum, her cane securely below her and taking most other weight. Even if his honored majesty wanted to share his ailments, Catra really doesn't want to listen to them. She slips on her sun glasses with a hand that is in no way trembling. 

They block the glaring, flickering lights in the hallway. It harshly stabs her even now, years after her injury. Catra isn't as young as she used to be, the lights that only used to cause her to squint.

Since she came back from the portal, looking people in the eye has been a challenge. Mostly because no one wants to make eye contact with a monster. 

Catra growls darkly at the recruits guarding Hordaks sanctum as she leaves. Less guarding and more leaning leisurely against his door frame. Her cane “tip-tapping” against the rusting metal floors. The recruits pay her no mind, only tipping their heads towards the floor in respect. 

Catra knows they’d run in a heartbeat if things got dirty. She doesn't blame them. 

Catra’s own personal details follow after her, they keep their distance but they're never more than two arms distances away. They learned their lesson to stay away years ago. A few helmets went to waste, scratches gouged in them almost deep enough to touch skin.

They've been testing their luck since Catra had seen the rest of the cadets off. They’re a step closer than usual. In some instances two steps. Catra is half concerned they’re planning a coup, maybe an assassination. 

They haven't tried anything yet, though. Haven't even slipped any poison into her food. Catra’s conversation must have them thinking she’s gone soft. Maybe she likes her soldiers, that she had liked the children and that's why she had sent them away. . 

The children had always had a soft spot on Catra’s heart, yes. Only because Catra refuses to become her own mentor. Shadow Weaver had been unnecessarily cruel. Catra doesn't see logic in that. 

Catra isn't a mother. Or at least, she is not what she thinks a mother should be. She doesn't do warmth, she doesn't tuck kits into bed at night, and in no way does she take care of defenseless little cubs when she should be working on her battle strategies.

She’s like Weaver in that way. Cold. But Catra isn't cruel. She knows better than anyone that a well fed cadet is a loyal cadet.

Now a happy cadet, Catra can only dream about what she can do with one of those. 

The kids reminded her too much of herself. Angry and naive. Cadets that only wanted to prove themselves. Kids who knew that the Horde was evil but stayed anyway and faithful. Soon to be soldiers who were oblivious enough to assume the Horde was good. 

Children forcing themselves to believe they are more than just rapid animals. Hope slowly being snuffed out. 

Catra walks as evenly as she can when she depends so heavily on a cane. Her spine is straight but her legs refuse to work normally. As soon as she turns the corner, out of sight of Hordak's sanctum, Catra leans heavily on the wall. her entourage respectfully redirects their gaze to the ceiling. As if the flickering fixtures are the most interesting things they've ever seen. 

She flattens her back against the cool metal and lets her good leg hold her up for a minute.

Catra fumbles with the bags tied to her belt under her cloak. Her fingers numbly wrestling with a few pills before she quickly throws them back.

Catra's days of seeing children were over. She was free to focus on her work until the day she died. That day was starting to feel sooner rather than later. They were winning the war, sure, but Hordak was becoming impatient with the slow, safe way Catra was doing it. 

Towns were no longer quickly getting flattened and conquered. They were captured, cataloged, and patrolled. Catra knew that there was no empire without its people but Hordak seemed to think the meticulous maintenance of the city states was a waste of time.  

The punishments for Catra’s slow work were becoming more brutal, more damaging. Catra thought she could handle anything after being torn apart by an interdimensional portal but Hordak seems to have the imagination Shadow Weaver never did. 

Catra levers herself off the wall, keeping one hand on it to keep herself steady. The other holds her cane like a lifeline. It's not much more than a hunk of medal a cadet had found for her the day after the great escape but Catra had made it work in more ways than one. she was a strategist after all. She had been friends with the best inventor in Etheria. 

Three steel tubes screwed together. Heavy and sturdy. If she wanted to, she could knock out her details right now. She’d be free to hobble away as far as she could until someone caught up to her.

She hobbles a few steps, testing her balance, before starting the long trek back to her sanctum. Her broom closet really. The small room she’s been calling home. 

That's when she hears it. the hissing of an animal, Low and threatening. Catra would ignore it but... curiosity killed the cat. 

Catra turns right toward the noise instead of left toward her bed. She expects to see a soldier ducking for cover. Maybe even two. Lovebirds stealing moments between assignments. The hallway is empty, the lights flickering and leaving spots of shadow—shadows long enough for witches to hide in.

Refusing to be cowed, Catra pushes forward. She only has to limp a few more feet before discovering the source of the commotion. Hiding in the shadow where her sunglasses hid forms from view. 

Curled in front of her and shivering against the far wall is a form so similar to Catra herself that Catra first assumes she’s dreaming. Or Back in the Crystal Castle watching her memories run past her again. 

But no, this is real. Or as real as it can be when Catra is high on her fifth dose of pain meds.

The cub in front of her is real enough to have caught the attention of Hordak’s little mongrel, Imp. It’s fitting; that’s how Catra discoveres the last child in the Fright Zone—being tormented and terrified by Hordak’s freak of nature. Imp swipes angrily with its small claws, but the cub huddles against the wall only occasionally swipes back in desperate retaliation.

Limping forward she lets out a growl before her brain can fully process what she’s seeing. She had claws like that once. Real ones, black as night and sharp as talons. Hers are light and metallic now. 

A Magicat in the fright zone is unheard of. A Magicat anywhere is even more rare, seeing how the species was supposed to die with Catra herself. 

Imp jumps at her approach, hisses at her and screams “you worthless animal!” in Shadow Weavers blood curdling screech. It turned Catra’s reflexive growl into one of anger and she takes another threatening step towards Imp, hefting her cane up in the air and swinging it at the deformed clone. 

The creature screeches again, debating whether to fight harder for its prize, but the cub’s claws lash out from its protective curl. This time, instead of missing, the claws rake down Imp’s back, sending the mongrel scuttling away.

Sticky fingers sends the thing crawling like a spider. Right up the side of the Fright Zone's smooth wall. It nearly slithered away from the felines and into the vents, ones Catra had once claimed as her own, Screeching all the way with a mimicked “how dare you, HOW DARE YOU”

Catra’s fur stands on end. Imp has always unsettled her, but hearing Shadow Weaver’s voice stolen and twisted in that way fuels her hatred.

Imp gives a final hiss, trying to save face and disappears into the vent. It’s pointed tail flipping around and out of sight. 

That left Catra, leaning heavily on a cane, staring at the little ball of cub fur. A Magicat, a species in which Catra thought she was the last survivor. This ball of baby fluff proved her wrong. 

Catra should be calling Force Captains and demanding answers for how a cub so young was left here. A little one like this wouldn’t last a day in the Fright Zone. How had it even gotten here? The last group of children was shipped out yesterday, or maybe the day before. Catra’s sense of time has been warped for a while. 

The cub is cute, though—mangy, but cute. Its ears are too big for its head, and its little nose curls in disgust at the smells around it. Covered in baby fur that looks soft to the touch but soon to fall out with age, its paw-like fingers are made for running and curling into its mother’s fur

Catra looks back down the hallway. The only nearby destinations are Hordak’s sanctum and the loading bays. This little one must have snuck out of a transport truck while the last batch of kids was loaded onto a skiff bound for Thaymore. Maybe it hid in the vents, just like Catra did as a cub. Those small spaces are full of bugs and rats—enough to keep a clever feline alive for days, maybe weeks.

The cub peeks out from its protective curl, its shining eyes fixed on Catra. Those sooty black eyes, covered in spiderwebs, are a gorgeous brown underneath. They trace Catra’s steel-capped boots, linger on her braced and damaged leg, follow her curling tail, and squint at her gleaming sunglasses. The cub’s gaze then shifts to Catra’s twitching, quickly flattening ears.

The cub seems to recognize something familiar in Catra—a form so like its mother. Though Catra’s ears are flattened in warning, her tail and fur signal safety. The cub trills hopefully, as if Catra is a ray of sunshine in a cold, dark room.

It sends the older magicats heart thumping erratically and her lip curling in warning. While Magicats have evolved to be more than their baser instincts most of them still remain. Catra herself knows first hand, her instincts never left.

Catra feels the urge to pick up the child and keep it warm. 

The cub knows its best chance for survival is with one of its own species, even one as injured and scarred as Catra. Its left arm is covered in scars that trace up to her face, puckering her lip on one side. Brutal evidence of battles fought and won.

She’s survived this long and has the victory scars to prove it. 

The cub slowly unfurls, instinctively remaining low to the ground. It crawls toward Catra, practically dragging its soft underbelly on the floor. It looks weak, helpless, and in desperate need of protection—everything a Horde soldier is not. Everything Catra had beaten out of herself as a cub.

Shadow Weaver would have scoffed, kicked the pitiful thing aside, and walked on. At best, she might have sent a cadet to see if the cub survived. Catra, fearing she’s too much like Shadow Weaver, does none of that. She can’t move. She’s frozen, leaning on her cane like it’s a lifeline, staring at the tiny ball of fur.

Base instincts scream to growl, scratch, and bite, but Catra remains still, allowing the cub to make first contact. One small hand lands on her ankle; the other grips her cargo pants. The cub pulls herself closer, stepping onto Catra’s boot and curling softly against her leg. It seems confused by Catra’s lack of reaction but hopeful.

Catra bares her teeth, not in anger but confusion. “Hello,” she croaks, her voice cracking. It’s been so long since she’s spoken in such a soft tone. casual niceties were beaten out of her years ago.

The cub trills back pitifully. Too young for words, the Cub can only lean against Catra’s good leg harder and look defenseless. One nailed claw reaching up and snagged instelf on Catra’s regulation cargo pants-an obvious plea to be picked up. 

The weak cub grabs at Catra’s heart strings and tugs. Like always, Catra succumbs to her baser instincts and like a puppet Catra reaches down with a pitiful groan, out of pain rather than desperation, and hooks the cub around the midsection. She draws the ball of fur to her chest. 

The kit is frail under its loose skin, Catra can feel rib cage and organs. the kid obviously hasn't been eating enough in weeks, months maybe. It needs food, water. 

“Where did you come from?” Catra whispers. The words barely come out of her shredded vocal chords but it seems the cub hears her. “Hmm? A cub like you?”

The cub trills hopefully and, surprisingly, rubs its head against the underside of Catra’s chin, rubbing her scent on the force captain and rubbing Catra’s scent on her. Catra’s head shakes involuntarily, sending her ears flipping, at the sensation and she lets out an involuntary trill of her own. 

She regrets ever picking the cub up, mostly because she doesn't regret it at all. The thing is cute, defenseless, and now hers. She couldn’t bear to put down so she won’t. She bares her teeth, highly annoyed. 

The cub smiles in a cheeky way and gains confidence, rubbing its face fully against hers. It seems undeterred by the scarring maring Catra’s cheek that usually sends kids and cubs alike running for the safety of their older siblings. 

Catra is no mother. She doesn't tuck kids in at night and read them bedtime stories. She will restart orphanages and find caring families for kids just so she won't have to be around them. She doesn't and never will take care of defenseless cubs.

Yet here she is, holding a helpless baby Magicat, torn between the instincts she’s buried for survival, the unfamiliar pull to nurture something so small and fragile and the knowledge that calling for a train and sending this small creature away is the best thing she can do for it. She has to get rid of it as soon as possible. 

Catra rubs her eye beneath her shades. The coolness of her palm soothing the beginning of a headache. A report needs to be filed immediately. A child being abandoned in a Fright zone hallway is an accident waiting to happen. This is going to be so much paperwork.  

--------)0(--------

years in the Horde. 

Catra shows no weakness. Weakness is failure. It doesn't deserve rations, or a bed. Weakness is punished, controlled. Redirected. 

It's why Catra is here, crouched in the darkness, back pressed against the cold wall behind her and head held between her trembling hands, hunched between her legs. She focuses on the drip, drip, drip, coming front the drain beside her. The light spackle of raindrops hitting the cobblestone street that runs the length of the Fright Zone. 

Her heavy breathing will soon come easier. The pain carved up her back in wild rivers will soon scar and fade. The residue of red electricity will fizzle out. 

Catra isn't like Adora. She can't follow orders without question. Not when obvious, better, solutions are right in front of her. Adora doesn't get more than a smack on the wrist when she does something wrong.

Catra is different. She jumps over obstacles instead of beating her way through. She finds weaknesses in their defense instead of fighting the enemy at what they are best at. 

Catra gets much worse than a slap on the wrist. Her own hand grazes over the tracks of lighting cutting through her fur. The gouges bleed freely and painfully with each touch, it sends Catra’s hand rearing back in pain. 

She hisses, her knees pressing harder into her temples. Catra forces herself to feel the space around her, her eyes focused on her feet and the grooves her nails have dug into the ground. 

Her heart beat slows in the darkness. The safety the dim lighting gives her lets her breath slow, her heart rate beat at a more normal speed. 

Her eyelids fall heavy in the darkness. The cold soothes the ache in her muscles, the cover of night widens her pupils and lets her see much better than anything else that could be out here can. 

Shadow weaver had found her. After the simulation. After Catra had escaped the attack Weaver had planned. Not by fighting her way out but by sneaking around the weak links in the holographic princesses' defenses. 

Shadow Weaver had not liked that. Catra had defeated the odds. Had been the only member of the squad to escape Weaver's simulation but Shadow Weaver had not liked that. She had punished Catra. Forced her to skip rations, hurt her for completing the simulation successfully. 

Catra’s next blink reveals the tears that have been hiding behind her eyes. They streak down her face in trickling rivers. 

“Cadet” Catra jumps to attention, her knees scream out in pain at the quick change imposition, her back splits open in fire. “What are you doing out here?’

Force Captain Taggart steps out of the shadows. His four horns curled in the darkness like tentacles. Catra stumbles over herself to give a quick and efficient reply. 

“Force Captain Taggart, sir,” the formalities slip out of her like tacky glue. Her usual sarcastic, lazy attitude left in the dust in the face of her pain. 

“Oh, it's you” Taggart slumps his shoulders a little. Catra hadn't known the man was puffing up his chest so much to seem intimidating. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just in simulation sir” Catra tries to slacken her posture but any movement results in pain lancing up her spine. Taggarts eyes draw to the fresh lightning strikes curling around Catra like snakes. 

“Bad simulation huh?” his eyes soften at Catra's pained expression, Catra doesn't try to correct him, Taking his assumption and running with it. She nods jerkily. 

“Nothing to worry about. Us strategy types never do well in other people's battle plans. We always try to improve them mid simulation.”

“Yes sir”

Taggart sighs and nods, squinting at Catra

“Well come on. You are going to need some hyper gel for those. Unless you want it to get infected.” Catra nods, in no condition to defy the order of a superior and treks after the man in perfect marching form as he lazily walks down the hall. 

He doest take her to an infirmary, instead Catra finds herself being led into a warm room covered in books. From floor to ceiling and wall to wall the room is stuff from shelves and books. It's a fire hazard waiting to happen. Catra nearly relaxes her perfect cadet posture in the face of her awe. 

"Here" Catra freezes as the man lifts her up by her armpits and sets her on the desk she hadn't even known was there. Her shoeless feet dangle meters from the floor and knock into the dark wood of the desk. Taggart rounds it and starts to open his many drawers, Catra realizes this place couldn't be anything but the man's personal office. A stark contrast from Shadow Weavers sanctum. 

The office is warm, lit by yellow lamps and a large fireplace in the corner. The books give the room a slightly stuffy smell but one that's a welcome relief from the Fright zones sharp tang. 

"This is going to be a little cold" his gravelly voice warns Catra just before the freezing burn touches her back. she winces and hisses without meaning to, her lighting wounds freezing up before screaming in relief. the cool Gel calming her aggravated flesh. 

Catra lets out the pained breath she had been holding as the gel works its way into her body, soothing her aches and calming her pain. Taggart's gentle hands nearly brought more tears to her eyes. although Catra refuses to cry, again. She takes a deep breath and clears her thoughts.. 

"Thank you, Force Captain Taggart." she says quietly. making sure to use his full rank. Catra doesn't want to offend the only Force Captain that had ever been nice to her. She surely would cry if he kicked her out and back to the barracks now. 

The man chuckles and gently pats Catra on the shoulder, letting her know he was all done. "You can just call me Taggart, little one. Force Captain. makes me feel old."

"Taggart" Catra tries it out and decides she likes it, even if she will never use it. She feels like an old friend rather than a starving cadet begging at his doorstep. she winces as Taggart gently raises her arms and starts to wrap a roll of gauze around her torso and back. 

"What was an injured cadet like you doing standing outside the simulation hall instead in the infirmary, mh?" Taggart asks, gently tucking the gauze in on itself and sitting down in the chair across from Catra. It's lower than the table. It gives Catra a good two inches on him. She likes that.

The feline's ears drop to their skull and she averts her gaze. most Force Captains hate being looked at directly, she assumes Taggart is no different, 

"I was waiting for the next simulation, Force Captain, my failure cost me my team but I was graciously given the chance to try again," Catra straightens her shoulders and breathes in as much as her throbbing ribs would allow. "I will not waste a second chance," she moves to hop down off of Taggarts desk but is stopped by a hand on her knee. 

"You're not going back into a simulation" Taggart gently pulls his hand away at Catra's frozen stare. fear keeps the feline rooted in place more than anything, 

"Forces Captain Taggart, please let me have the chance to try again" Catra feels the terror of failure grip her, if Shadow Weaver doesn't see her back in simulation in 0300 CAtra isn't sure she'll have her fur for much longer. 

Taggart hesitates, shocked by the small girls determination. He furrows his brows and frowns at the girl. No one should train in that shape, especially small cadets. He raises an eyebrow at Catra's shaking form and makes a decision. 

"No, making anyone fight in this condition is cruel and unusual." he pulls a notepad from his desk and calls for one of the soldiers lining the hall. Taggart scribbles out a few lines before handing it to the guard with a quick, "take this to Force Captain Weaver and let her know that I will be needing her ward for the rest of the week. Catra freezes, her mind already running with things he would need her to do. Most Force Captains want coal maids. little kids small enough to do the dirty work in the tanks. 

Catra doesn't know if she could do that, looking at the state of her back. Taggart straightens from his desk, he walks over to one of his many shelves and pulls a book from the stack. To her surprise, Taggart hands it to her. 

"My eyes aren't as good as they used to be" Taggart coughs and easily moves Catra from his desk to the chair in the corner before weakly falling back into his swivel chair. He turns to face the feline before leaning back with his arms crossed, "I need someone to read to me before I go crazy in this hell hole."

Catra gulps nervously, her fingers tracing the gibberish. Taggart is looking at her expectantly so Catra opens the cover and looks fearfully down at the words she can't read. 

"well?" Taggart asks, gesturing to the pages, Catra straightens in the chair and prepares to be punished. 

"I don't know how to read, long hand." she states it calmly, as if it's expected she hasn't been shown how to read it yet. Of course she's been shown, but no one has enough care to make sure she actually knew how, and not just copying her classmates' work so she did not fall behind. falling behind meant punishment and Catra didn't want that. 

"oh" Taggart says, like it's no big deal. He swivels his chair over to Catra and leans over her shoulder. the feline prepares herself to be struck, instead, "then I guess I'll show you. It's very similar to short hand. There are just more words."

He does show her. Catra learns how to read in that very room. she must have picked up something in those Fright Zone classrooms because it's quick going. Quick going and fun, Catra is laughing in no time, her ears perked in Taggart direction and he teaches her to sound out the words. 

Three weeks is how long Catra spends reading to Taggart. three weeks until the man is cleared for duty and shipped off to gods nowhere and Catra is left picking up the pieces of a shattered dream. a dream where she got to stay in Taggart's office forever, reading to the man and laughing at his dumb jokes. Instead, Catra is sent back to be Weavers Ward fully healed and dreading what was to come. 

"It's called “the luminous dead”" Taggart laughs and hikes his bag up his shoulder, happy to be cleared for duty "might be a little advanced for a teenager but I think you can handle it.” Taggart taps the book in Catra’s hands and smiles down at her gleefully. Catra can't help but smile back. "next time I'm here you have to tell me what you thought of it, I’v missed having reading buddies"

A reading buddy, that's what Catra was to him, a friend. Her first friend besides Adora. The first person to like her besides Adora. 

That book is found and burned from existence by Shadow Weaver months later. Graciously, Catra had already finished it, and had loved it. 

--------)0(--------

Catra wakes slowly, which is unusual for her. she wasn't jolted from sleep by a nightmare or forced awake by gasps. Her chest feels heavy. Not suffocatingly though. A warm weight ways her down into the bed and pulls her from a dream she can't remember. it's nice, it stutters a purr from her chest and sends her stretching her arms in a way she hadn't in ages, over her head and as far as she could go. 

Catra groans, her leg burning like fire. She fears her skin and fur may have burnt off again somehow but one tentative touch with her finger tips steers that thought away. Her flesh and bones are all where they’re supposed to be.  

She blinks sluggishly into the darkness and almost swears at the two bright eyes staring back at her. They gleam in the darkness. Nocturnal, not unlike Catra’s own. Catra has to forcibly untense her sore muscles. 

“Cubsy” Catra murmurs, adjusting and wrapping her arms around the kit laying on her chest. The little feline mrrbs, and purrs, rubbing her temple into Catra chin.

She should be bundled up to be taken off to the edges of Etheria. She should be halfway there. Catra had never made the call. 

The cub has snuck out of her makeshift basinet that should not exist. It's not more than the top drawer of her filing cabinet. Padded with spare blankets. The cub seemed to like it when Catra had set her down for bed. She had curled up like a cat and set to kneading the fabric into the perfect shape. 

That sentiment seems to have retracted now. The cub worriedly purrs at Catra, her little eyes scanning the feline's face. Catra realizes what's wrong. Tears track down her own face like rivers, dampening her fur. she quickly rubs away the residues of salt and smiles reassuringly at the kit, the act only seems to concern her more. 

Catra's leg is acting up again, searing pain shooting through her nerves like ants marching their way to the queen. Catra groans in pain but softly rubs her face back into Cubsy’s, reassuring her as much as the older feline was able to. 

The cub isn't convinced, she slips off Catra’s chest and into the crook of her neck,  her nails catching slightly in Catra’s fur. She pats down Catra’s face as if looking for damage. 

“Nothing to worry about, darling” Catra grunts, a smile splitting her face when Cubsy’s clumsy hands smack her forehead. “Just a little pain”

Catra chuckles and lightly picks up the kit. She sits up with a grunt and slips out of bed, stretching to gently set the cub down in the padded drawer. 

Cubsy hurriedly stands again in her bassinet and worriedly looks down at Catra as the feline stretches out her leg, the tendons and muscles of Catra’s leg are seen clearly through her nearly translucent fake skin. Horde doctors had done their best but Catra will never look, or function, the same again. 

Catra sits, legs before her on the bed beside Cubsy's make shift crib and stretches out her burning legs. it doesn't help much but even a little is a large step for her. Relief floods up her spin as the burning is reduced to a persistent itching and discomfort. Cubsy only calms when she sees the sweat beading through Catra's temple start to dissipate. 

Catra smiles as the small feline starts to drift back to sleep, her own mind far too awake to let unconsciousness take her. She lets out a small groan at the energy it takes her to lean across the small floor space and into her bedside drawer, effectively retrieving her coms pad and holding it in her lap. She lets out her held breath in small pained spurts as to not wake the small cub.

Catra nearly hisses at the brightness of the tablet, her eyes squeezing shut in agony, waiting for them to adjust to the light. She's not surprised at what she finds. What she had failed to even search for when she found the cub. 

Orphaned, homeless and young, Cubsy had been found in one of the many abandoned orphanages in a newly conquered town. scrounging for scraps and mice like a house cat. No wonder she was so skinny and malnourished. She had never been fed right in her life.

 Cubsy had nothing. No one. Neither did Catra. They were perfect for each other. 

The horde file system is for shit. no one would miss one missing report. Cubsy was going to go to a group home anyway.

Catra deletes it.

she deletes it, closes her tablet. No harm done. The group home would assume Cubsy was going to a different home and the Horde would assume Cubsy never existed.

Chapter Text

@Seasinkarndine on instagram

present time-

Adora can’t breath. which is odd for her, she doesn’t usually have trouble with it. Most of the time the act is pushed to the back of her mind, she doesn’t even think about it. Like pumping blood or drinking water. 

It usually just.. Happens. 

Today though, for some reason. Drawing breath is the hardest thing she’s ever done. That includes Cadet Conditioning, which was torture for even Catra. 

Breathing blows that shit show out of the water today. If she lives she vows to never take it for granted again. She has no idea why she was before. It's like her lungs refuse to suck in air or maybe the air refuses to be sucked in.

She tries to sit up, finding it increasingly difficult than normal, but still not as difficult as breathing. 

She doesn’t remember going back to bed, or waking up. She’s pretty sure she would never lay down and take a nap here. The floor is covered in mud, mud that’s stained red and smells uncomfortably of iron. She also in the middle of a battle field. It's half destroyed, Adora is hoping the battle is over, even if she can still see the sparks of rail guns and the smell the overwhelming smell of blasting powder. 

How embarrassing, falling asleep on the job.

Even if she did lay down here for a little nap, She’s positive she didn't sleep long enough. The exhaustion seeping into her bones is familiar but she usually gets a reprieve after a night's rest. Even half a night's rest. 

She was just doing something, she knows it. She has the feeling of leaving something when she was right in the middle of it. She hates that feeling. She just can’t remember what it was. 

It must have something to do with the heavy slashes covering her body. They're clean and precise, similar to claw marks. The only person to have enough force and speed to cut Adora like this is dead. It makes Adora think that maybe she might be, now . 

She’s shoved, metaphorically, back into reality. The pleasant quiet buzzing in her ears is replaced by the familiar screeching of metal on metal, Screaming and crying and the deafening sounds of electrical bombshells setting buildings aflame. 

She’s shoved, literally, into the fray of noise around her by two, literal, hands. 

“Get up!” She can barely hear It, she mostly understands by reading Glimmer's bloody lips. They had split again at some point during the fight, she must have lost her chapstick.

Fighting! That's what Adora had been doing. She should have guessed, it's all she’s been doing lately. She must have been losing too, if the state of her muscles is anything to go by. She feels weak and fragile. 

Glimmer's second shove sends Adora sprawling face first into the mud. She gets a mouthful of iron dirt just in time. Where Adora had been laying moments before is a crater, not large but big enough that her body wouldn’t exist anymore if it had still been there. 

Glimmer’s harsh breathing and the weight of her body is the only thing Adora can center on. She can’t fight like this, in a state where everything is moving in slow motion.

She can work with the world tilting but moving in slow motion is an accident waiting to happen. 

Where is her sword?

“What happened?” Her voice cracks like a rusty hinge, breaking in the middle. It barely lifts above the noise of the battlefield and Adora isn't sure anyone can hear her. 

Glimmer looks at Adora with a nearly expressionless face, forcibly turning Adora around and grabbing her by the lapels of her Jacket. Adora tries to lean back just a bit, her heart speeding in her chest and Glimmer's blank eyes. 

She knows the name for this, egg shock or shell shock or something. Glimmers pupils have a thousand yard look that might be freaking Adora out just a bit .

“What do you mean what happened? Adora” her face unfreezes from its unnatural state and contorts in anger, anger dripping with disgust. Adora did something wrong. She can tell as if it was clear as day, but she can't remember what it is she messed up. 

“We unlocked the weapon so you could defeat the Horde and not blow us to damn hell!” Glimmer raises a hand as if to hit Adora and the blonde ducks out of instinct. Instead of the blow she's expecting, Glimmer instead sends a stray Horde soldier flying back and away from them with a blast of magic. 

“Adora!” Glimmers shout has her head whipping back to attentions “what the fuck did you just do!?” 

Adora shakes her head, confused and in pain. She can’t remember. She can’t remember anything. 

Mostly she can’t remember where her sword is. 

Glimmer is torn away from her, the place where her hands had been gripping Adora’s jacket is empty. Adora scrambles for a sight of her, her hands sinking like weights into the mud, but Glimmer is gone. Poofed out of existence. 

Adora doesn’t realize what’s happened until she watches the seagate fall. 

The translucent wall that protected the ancient city state for some more than a hundred millennia flickers and sparks. Another worldly beam of light sucking out its power like a leach. 

Adora follows the beam of white power,  turning behind her to where the light is coming from and clenches her teeth. 

Octavia in all her eye-patched glory smirks down at the girl. A harsh, fractured laugh escapes the lips of Adora’s former training Captain. Adora doesn’t know what’s so funny until she sees the fractured metal gripped in the woman’s tentacles. 

“Not so strong now without your precious hunk of junk, are you She-ra ” Octavia stabs the fractured end of the sword into the hull of her damaged ship. “Oh I'm sorry, I forgot. It's just Adora now, isn't it? Lord Hordak will be so glad to hear about your little accident”

Anger floods Adora like a tidal wave but a whine escapes Adora lips instead of a battle cry. Her fingers dig into the mud for purchase and her lip curls back, exposing her teeth in a way she had seen Catra do many times. 

She reaches inside herself for the little spark that lets her defy laws of the universe. The light that lets her touch stars. It's gone, she can tell without much probing. Coldness flushes through Adora as quickly as lighting. 

Dread, fear replaces her anger for just a second. But she can't stay here, if she does she'll die along with She-ra. She can't do that now, there are people depending on her, towns and cities. 

Woman, men and children., she can’t let The Horde Take Silaneas. The last standing kingdom of Etheria. If it goes, Adora isn't sure the rebellion will stay standing. Hope will be lost. 

Adora stops trying to breathe all together, instead using that energy to force her limbs to move. She doesn't know where Glimmer has gone but she hopes it's to protect the citizens of the now defenseless city. 

Adora stumbles to her feet, her shoes slipping unsteadily in the mud, and lurches for Octavia’s tank. The octopus shaped woman screeches out a charcoal laugh at Adora’s pitiful display of strength and spins the cannon towards her would-be attacker, nearly taking off the blonde’s head. 

Adora ducks just in time, feeling the metal brush against her hair.  The act sends an uncomfortable popping movement through her spine but only spurs her anger on more. She growls like a cat and lunges, pulling herself up and onto the metal hull of the tank with sheer force of will. 

Her shaking arms were in no condition to move let alone lift a full grown woman onto a tank but Adora must have more She-ra left in her then she thought. The act is nearly easy. Though that might just be the adrenaline. 

Adora doesn't have a chance to catch her breath, seeing how it's hard to catch something she doesn't have. She quickly flattens herself to the floor as a blast of heat from Octavia’s gun shoots over her head, singing her clothing. 

“Damnit” is Ocavtia's mumbled swear as she reloads her gun, her tentacles fumbling with used and unused blast shells. 

Adora takes advantage of her disorganization, stumbling onto her unsteady feat and slamming into the woman's midsection. They tumble to the floor together, Adora quickly losing the upper hand. 

She tries to wrap her legs around the woman's own and hold her down but only realizing her mistake when the woman's leg less tentacles flip Adora around and hold her down against the cold metal of the tank. 

“After all those years of training under me, you're still useless without a weapon. The only thing that rodent is better at doing than you”

“That “rodent” was a person you overgrown sea shit” Adora grates out, growling and biting at Octavia. 

Adpra yells out as her head is yanked back, her vulnerable neck bared for the world to see and her front lifting off the tank deck. Octavia wants the entire rebellion to see her die. Holding her up like an offering, her legs dangling uselessly. 

 A slit throat is a way she never expected to go out. Blasted into oblivion yes but something as simple as bleeding out, no. She's a little disappointed. Such an uncool way to die. 

Catra definitely wins. Torn apart by an interdimensional portal is way cooler. To be fair she set an unattainable standard. Adora grits her teeth at the thought. Catra would be disappointed. Adora could ramp up her death just for her. Might as well if she has nothing left to lose. 

Adora grins. This might be it and she wont go down without a fight. Now that would make Catra proud. 

So like any self respecting Rebellion soldier, Adora takes a bite out of Catra’s(the Horde’s second in command) book and swings her legs up in front of her in an act of flexibility she shouldn’t have been able to do, hooking her heels behind Octavias head and pulling her down. The log of a person groans and squeals before rolling into Adora’s maneuver. Her head slammed into the tank's hard metal, Effectively forcing her to let the blonde go. 

Adora spits blood from her mouth and pushes herself back up. Lunging for Octavia’s discarded gun, a much cooler way to die, but narrowly missing when a tentacle wraps around her ankle.

Adora is pulled uncomfortably into Octavia’s front, the woman's slimy appendages keeping her still. 

“Hordak is going to be so happy to see you again. He might even promote me above that little army rat of his if I get you back alive.” Octavias hot breath behind her ear sends shivers of revolution through Adora but there's not much she can do when something big, heavy and definitely iron is smashed into the back of her head. 

Death by blungering. Even less cool than a slit throat. Damnit. 

--------)0(--------

present time-

Cubsy rubs her cheeks into the soft fur, trying to hold back the rest of her tears in vain, she knows she will get in trouble for crying but she can't help it the water works won't stop coming, 

She curls tighter around the gaping hole in her bear. Trying her darndest to keep the light white fluffing inside the animal like she would have to a spurting wound. As much as she tries, the stuffing wont stop leaking out.

Her small hands are not meant for keeping the softness in, her claws more suited for tearing and breaking. That makes her cry harder. 

She can't help it. She tucks her face deeper into the toy's soft fur. She doesnt want it to die, she hadn’t meant to rip off the arm, it was already loose, her claws didn't help any. 

She really hadn't meant to hurt Bear. She really didn’t. She had tried so hard to be gentle. She shouldn't have brought him outside the room. She thought it would be ok as long as she was holding onto him. But Catra had picked Cubsy up so swiftly at the sound of heavy footsteps that Cubsy had dug her claws a little too deeply. 

Bear's arm was holding on by a thread at that point and fell off too easily. Cubsy tried her hardest to keep it together but she couldn't keep the last thread from breaking. She tried, she did

Catra was going to be mad, Cubsy had already destroyed the toy she had just gotten. Tearing things up is all she is good for. 

She had never had a toy of her own before, forced to share between the rest of the starving children. They were often quickly broken. She finally got something for herself and she breaks in nearly immediately. 

She hugs the broken toy to herself and rubs her tears into the bear, to comfort herself. She refuses to let Catra know she’s already broken it. That she is no better than the rest of the cubs. If Catra knows then she'll give Cubsy back and care for a better cub. One who won't break their toys as soon as they get them. 

She sticks her nose into the musty fabric that smells so much like the woman taking care of her. 

She listens to Catra stumble around their little room. Her cane clacking soothingly against the hard cement floor. Cubsy sticks her ear to it to hear the vibrations, and watches Catra’s uneven gait as she walks from her comms room to the kitchen and back again, pacing her heart away. 

Cubsy knows she has a report in one hand, reading it over as she thinks. It's what she likes to do when she's planning. For what, she refuses to tell cubsy. 

Catra spins around again in her little room, her heel turning on the cold cement. Cubsy can hear her skin sliding against stone. A rare moment where she's taken off her boots, feeling just as safe as Cubsy does in their makeshift home. 

The room that has become their own little den in the last two days. A comfort to both of them. 

“Cubsy?” Catra’s voice makes her jump, tucking deeper into her little curl and keeping Catra from seeing the gaping wound in the side of her bear.

Catra hesitates in her pace and turns in a circle, her cane tapping quickly in succession as she searches the crevices of the room. 

“Cubsy?”

Cubsy stays silent. Her ears flattened to her head. She knows she'll get in trouble if she doesn't let Catra know where she is. Hiding is usually punished harshly and she doesn't want to make Catra give her a zapping. 

The older feline hasn't yet, two full days without a punishment or even a yelling. Her luck never lasts this long.

She starting to think that sneaking out of that transport truck was the best decision shes ever made 

Or had ever made, she's ruined it already. Destroying the thing Catra had given her out of the goodness of her heart. 

“Cubsy? Where are you?” fear starts to work its way into Catra’s voice, making her tremble as she walks hesitantly towards the bed, looking for her cub. How had she lost the thing already? It's just so quiet, never causing any ruckus or making much noise. 

Her lack of play has started to concern Catra, all she does is hug the little stuffed bear that is nearly the same size as her. Cuddling into it as if it's a real warm person, sometimes hiding behind it as if it could protect her. 

The thing is ratty and used but Cubsy had taken to it like a fish and water, carrying the little darling thing everywhere. Catra hates to say it but it's adorable. Reminding her of Adora and her little blue blanket she refused to be separated for the most of childhood. 

Until Shadow weaver burned it to a crisp in front of her of course. Adora cried for three days, rubbing her hand against her cheek as if it could recreate the feeling of her soft blanket. 

“Cubsy, I'm going to count to three” Catra infuses as much sternness into her voice as possible. It's become clear to her that she’s soft when it comes to the little cub. Letting her get way with sleeping in Catra’s bed and ripping her important files to shreds. 

“One-” as soon as the first number starts Catra hears a quiet sniffle from behind her. It's quickly quieted but it's all Catra needed to spin around, more concerned than before. 

Cubsy was crying?

“Cubsy, baby? What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” The kit stays silent, and Catra hesitantly lowers herself to see below the poor excuse for a dining table, becoming more concerned at what she sees. Cubsy curled up around her little stuffed animal, her tail tucked beneath herself and her ears flattened. 

“Cubsy? Are you hurt?” the little thing tucks herself impossibly tighter into her ball, her eyes squeezed shut. 

Catra quickly and painfully falls to her knees, leaning on her hand to quickly scoop the tense kitten up and pull her towards Catra. “What's wrong?” she says as soothingly as she can, listening intently for any quiet noises. 

Catra tucks Cubsy into her chest and lets the cub shyly rub her face into her fur. 

“ What's wrong , darling” she rubs her hand soothingly along Cubsy back fur, smoothing it down and inconspicuously checking for injury. The cub is so quiet that Catra wouldn't put it behind her to get terribly injured and not let Catra know. 

Cubsy just lets out a sad trill, and Catra tilts her head, as the cub curls tighter around her bear. Her bear looks suspiciously flatter than usual. 

“What's this?” Catta asks, pulling some of the white stuffing from Cubsy clenched first. 

Caught, the cub lets out the heavy breath she had been holding, giving up on her charade. Cubsy slowly holds up the bear's detached arm. Nudging it under Catra’s chin sadly. Then the kit tenses further, waiting for anger. 

“Oh” Catra respondes, the tension leaching from her body, she gently takes the arm from Cubsy hand, sorrow leaching into her heart at the baby’s harsh flinch. 

It must have happened on their walk this morning, the first time Cubsy has taken bear from the room since she got him. Catra hadn't been paying much attention to the health of the animal. More concerned with keeping Cubsy out of Hordak’s sight. 

He hadn’t even been there in the end. The echoing steps spooked Catra, she picked Cubsy up quickly and tucked her against her side, beneath her cloak. Hiding her from sight.

Fortunately for them it was just a passing guard, one that only nodded to Catra respectfully before moving on.  

“Did Bear lose an arm?” Catra asks, looking down at the cubs trembling form. Cubsy nods slowly, clenching the bear firmer to her chest. 

“Well that's ok,” Catra smiles down at the cub and winks. “I think I could give him a hand” she waves the disembodied stuffed bear arm in Cubsy's face, her smile slumping a little as Cubsy quickly tucks her face into Catra’s neck. 

Catra chuckles awkwardly and stands with a groan, keeping the cub close as she lowers herself into her desk chair. She picks the pacifier up from the table and tucks it into Cubsy's mouth, smiling reassuringly when the cub holds onto her tighter. She rolls herself with her good leg towards her comms room.  

Cubsy wines as Catra settles the kit into her lap. Pulling the bear from her tight grasp.  

“I'll only be a minute baby, and then Bear will be good as new” she presses a kiss into the top of Cubsy’s head, returning Cuby’s surprised trill with a reassuring one. 

Catra, unsure with Cubsy watching, slowly threads sewing thread through the needle. It's meant for sewing up wounds not Bears but Catra supposes it will do. White on brown won't look great but it's all she has. She'se never been great at sewing but she'll try her best for the sad little cub in her arms.  

“Close your eyes darling, I need to perform surgery.” She says this very seriously to Cubsy, petting down the back of the cubs neck and nodding when the baby tucks her head over Catra’s shoulder. 

Holding Cubsy on her lap as she sew’s the bear's arms back to the body, stuffing the stuffing back in and tightening the stitching on its eye. 

Cubsy cuddles into Catra’s chest and listens to the woman's heartbeat feeling unreasonably warm. Catra hadn't even yelled at her, hadn't even looked mad. This kindness is almost worse, it squeezes something in Cubsy’s heart and makes her want to choke. Try to cough it up. 

“You can always come to me, cubsy” Catra murmurs to her gently, rocking lightly in the chair, “I will always try my best to help you.”

Catra tightens the last stitch in the bear and grins down at Cubsy. “Look at that” Cubsy opens her eyes hesitantly, their red rimmed ness highlighting their gorgeous color. She takes one look at the bear, good as new and back to its former glory, before bursting into sobbing tears. 

Catra hesitates, unsure what to do with the sobbing baby. Catching the pacifier as it falls from the child's mouth. 

“Cubsy what-” the little kit digs her claws into Catra and refuses to let go, not even loosening her hold when Catra offers bear back to her. 

Catra shushes and rocks the kit in her arms, unsure what to do with someone crying so hard, 

“Your ok, it's ok” the reassurance only makes the kit sob harder. She’s nearly silent, like a true Horde soldier trying to keep quiet. It breaks Catra’s heart. 

She holds up the bear, she must have put it together wrong. Sewn his arm on the wrong side of the body or put it on upside down. But it looks fine to her, a little uneven but still good. 

She bites her lips and eyes her first aid kit, her sight flickering from pain medication to a tunicate and back again. To Cubsy Bear is real. A real person would be in an ass ton of pain. 

Cubsy must be worried Bear is dying or something. She fumbles with the gauze and wraps it around Bears, would be, wound. If Bear wasn't a stuffed animal he would definitely be dead. Super dead. Cubsy doesn't need to know that. 

“Now you got to be gentle with him, he's still recovering but doctor Catra fixed him right up”

Cubsy peeks out from Catra’s shoulder. Catra encourages her by holding the stuffed animal up. 

“Isn't that right Bear? You're good as new?” She uses her fingers to nod Bear’s head. “No pain?” The bear nods again. 

“Do you want to see Cubsy’s beautiful eyes too, Bear?” she makes the bear nod its head once more. Cubsy shows her full face and Catra grins. She slips the pacifier back into Cubsy’s mouth when she reaches for Bear, cuddling them both close to her chest and swaying them side to side. 

Cubsy nods off eventually, her little head tucked beneath Catra’s chin, her grip firm on her bear.  Catra is left stunned by the interaction. Barely a day in and she’s already out of her depth. 

--------)0(--------

Years in the Horde

Catra finds herself in this position a lot. Tucked into the vents like a rat. She’s starting to think there might be a correlation with her taking to the vents like a fish and water and the rest of the cadets comparing her to a rodent. 

She’ll have to set some time aside to ponder on this, as of now she is far too busy. She has places to be and very little time to be there. 

She shuffles farther along the vent, the hard part of the journey already over. Moving up a vent is much more difficult then moving along it. But still easier than walking for Catra, her nails perfect for finding the cracks in the medal. 

She pauses when her head finally brushes against the side of the vent. The room beyond the dark opening before her. Full of possibilities. 

Catra grins, some might say evilly. But one, a blonde one, would say it was her nerdy grin. The one she gets when the simulation is explained. Or when class gets specifically boring. Boring for Adora at least. 

Catra, familiar with the dark room before her in many ways, expertly maneuvers way down in front of the vent, her hands finding purchase on the wall before dropping down face first. 

Adora would say she looked weird. That it's much harder to drop down hands first then turning around and dropping down onto her feet. Catra thinks the opposite. She likes to see where she’s falling. Not that she can see much in the darkness of the room. 

Shadow Weaver keeps its freezing cold with very little light, similar to a cave. Catra’s eyes gleam in the darkness like headlights, not that anyone is here to see it but her. 

Step one of her fool proof plan is complete without even a hiccup. She has the entire room to herself for at least a few hours. Now is when Shadow Weaver takes time to torture a few Force Captains before reports to Lord Hordak. 

Catra grins wider and studiously avoids the Black Garnet when she spots the filing cabinets. having been zapped one too many times to not be wary of it, she keeps a wide berth. 

She purch’s herself on the handles of lower drawers as she looks for the file she needs,  her nails perfect for picking the small locks and opening the world of information to her. She hurriedly digs around in Weaver's “important” files, most of them half finished and crinkled. 

She really shouldn't be here. The trouble she could get in could kill her. That's why she didn't bring Adora. The blond would never be able to stay quiet, that goodie two shoes is like a warning bell.

Adpra doesn't even know Catra is here. The feline sneaking off in the night, slipping down from her top bunk as silent as a mouse 

Adora will be wondering where she is in a hour when she doesn't curl herself into Adora’s covers and tuck her head under the blonde's chin, but Catra has more than enough time to find what she needs and be back in time to cuddle-

To huddle for warmth with Adora. 

She couldn't help it when she heard the beginning of the story. Strategies class isn't good for a lot but when Catra is awake enough to pay attention she only soaks in the important stuff. And the stuff she heard today is more than important. 

Her mind wouldn't leave it alone. Picking and prodding like a its an open wound, 

The Great Captain Taggart and his escape from the Northern Reach. Now that got her heart pumping, Catra bites her lip and climbed the file cabinet higher, her toe balancing precariously on the higher handle 

“T, Taggart, Taggart.” Catra mumbles, frustration creeping in at Shadow Weavers poor management, who doesn't sort their files by letter.  “maybe it's under Captain”

Catra climbs higher still, reaching into the top file drawer in victory, ‘Captain Taggart’ written poorly on the top of a thin folder, “bingo”

The files end up being spread out before her like battle plans, lighting resting against the floor's dirty surface. Thank Gods they were all in short hand.

She grins, bending over them. Not even noticing her hands wrinkling the pages. Finally the full story. The Force Captain teaching class today had known barely anything about the story. why he chose to tell it, Catra would never know. 

Now these. Files written by the man himself, they tell a little too much for a child to be hearing. Blood and gore but more importantly, escape. 

Evasion is Catra’s number one rule. Why start a battle when you don't have to. The best way to start and win a fight is to never have one in the first place. 

Force Captain Taggart is beyond speaking Catra’s language. Sneaking away in an underground tunnel while the PA is none the wiser, scrounging around for First One scraps like birds. 

 Catra picks up the file of photos, lightly blowing dust from the surface so as to not damage it. A man who she suspects is Taggart stands proudly before a primitive skiff, his hand resting lightly on the machine's hull. She bends closer to the photo, eyeing the man's tight hold on a leather bound book. The secrets that could be held there. 

An entire book of Captain Taggarts strategies and secrets. How the man thinks could be in that little treasure. Catra wonders if the book is here, hidden in one of Shadow Weavers' many drawers. It might not even be in short hand.

“Catra, I was so worried about you” like a gun going off, Fear floods through Catra’s system. She feels as though she's been doused in a bucket of ice water. A common occurrence for someone who sleeps in so often. 

“Force Captain Weaver, Ma’am” Catra clicks into place like a toy soldier, standing without knowing when she got up from the floor, her limbs straightening into perfect lines. Her heels clicking together in perfect form. 

She’s not usually so obedient, but fear of what she’s been caught doing forces the forms beaten into her to take control. She is nothing but a perfect Horde Cadet at this moment. Not even a tremble at the adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

“Disappearing in the night like a whore. I thought I would find you dead somewhere.” The door slid shut beyond Shadow Weaver bringing any light that had found its way into the room when it had opened to an untimely death. 

Catra hadn't noticed Shadow Weaver approaching the sanctum, hadn't even noticed the woman opening the door, or the light flooding against the very picture Catra had been holding. 

Stupid, is what Catra was. She’s usually so attentive, hearing the smallest movement echo through the Fright Zone. 

She should have taken the files into the vent, looked at them there. So even if she missed the cue of Shadow Weavers return she would be safe and hidden. Nothing to tie her to the thievery but the very files that had gone missing. 

“Ma’am I was just-” she should have kept her mouth shut, her face is struck without magic, which is a terrible sign. She straightens again quickly, turning her burning neck back to face Weaver before she can be punished even more harshly for not looking her in the eye. 

“ I know what you were doing” Shadow Weaver growls, “Treason is punishable by death you know Catra”

“No! No I was” the pain cuts Catra off sharply. She’s frozen in her perfect cadet form, like a real toy soldier. Weaver could move her about however she wanted and Catra wouldn't be able to make a peep. 

“What was I to think when you went missing in the night dear. My ward, my responsibility digging through classified files like a mongrel.”

Catra convulses at the electricity that shocks through her, raising her fur on end and clenching her teeth without her permission 

Shadow weavers emotionless eyes crinkle as a pained whine slips through Catra’s grinding teeth. 

Catra’s hands clench, crinkling and ruining Taggarts files. The photo of such a happy man ruined, The electricity running through her hands and singing the paper black. 

“Look what you've done” Shadow Weaver’s voice has gone quiet, her eyes focused on the pieces of ash falling from Catra’s trembling fingers.

“One of a kind photos’ destroyed” Weaver grows closer to Catra, one of her wiry hands taking one of Catra’s small ones and forcing it up and into Catra’s face. Blood seeps from beneath Catra’s fingernails, dripping from her hands and onto the files that were still safe on the floor. 

“You come into my sanctum, dig through my files and ruin them?” Weaver seems to ask this but Catra knows to keep quiet. Even if she could speak she wouldn't. 

“I don't want to punish you Catra, but you make it so hard to keep you in line” Weaver grabs Catra by the  back of the neck, forcing her head to the floor. She drags the feline out of her sanctum and into the now blinding light of the hallways. 

“Wh- where-” 

“Quiet” Shadow Weaver growls, her nails digging painfully into Catra’s skin. The cold touch forces crawling fear through Catra’s nervous system, she can't help the hiss that seeps through her lips like she's still a kit, afraid of the dark. 

Graciously, Shadow Weaver either doesn't notice or ignores the slip of Catra’s instincts. 

They stop before a large heavy door that Weaver pries open. The creek that emits from it burns Catra’s ears and nearly makes her reach up to cover them. She catches herself quickly and keeps her arms tucked neatly to her sides, still in the cadets perfect form even as Shadow Weaver makes her bend at such an odd angle. 

She’s shoved onto the floor. She’s sent sprawling into a small room with no light, no windows, nothing. Catra looks around confused at her surroundings, 

Nothing but four walls, a floor and a ceiling. 

“Captain Weaver-”

“You should be happy that I'm going so light on you, Catra. Any other mother would have killed you for your actions, and wouldn't have made it quick and painless. Not like I would have.”

Shadow Weaver bends before Catra’s huddled form, like the feline is a rabid animal that just needs a kind touch. Her cold hand holds Catra’s cheek like a caring mother, “but I've put too much effort in you to let you die. What a disappointment you're turning out to be. “

Then Shadow Weaver stands, leaving Catra shivering and locked in fear, she doesn't say anything as she heaves the heavy door closed. Catra doesn't realize what’s happening until the light is snuffed out and the heavy clicking of a deadbolt sliding into place echoes through the tiny room.  

“NO!” Catra stumbles to her feet and slams her body against the steel door. There's no response from beyond the metal, as if Shadow Weaver had never been here. 

“Please! Please! It was a mistake, it won't happen again. I'll be good!” Water drips onto her hand, wetting the fur there.. 

The wetness scares Catra, she worries the room is flooding with water. The Fright Zone tends to do that when it rains, when it fills the basin the Fright Zone sits in and floods the barracks up to three feet. She would drown in here if that happened now. 

But then she realizes it's just her face, tears are soaking into her peach fuzz fur. 

“Oh gods” Catra chokes out between sobs, searching for the cracks in the door where air should be filtering in, there's no breeze. Not even a cool sip of air. How is oxygen getting in, is she going to suffocate in here? Is that what Weaver wanted, what she’s been doing all along. 

It's so dark, Too dark for even Catra to see with her night vision. She stumbles around, her hands feeling at the walks and searching for windows or vents or anything she can press her face to and feel the cool relief of air.

In the end she left curled in the corner, her back pressed to two planes of the room's wall. Her tears had dried hours ago when she realized that if she was going to die, why would she cry about it? She's done enough crying for her entire life. 

“Help” it's barely a whisper, no one can hear her, even if she had screamed it. There’s no point. She’s forgotten in here, no one would remember the little rat that follows Shadow Weaver around like a lost puppy. She’s going to die here. 

She’s surprised when she doesn't, when the door opens again and wakes her from a slumber he thought she wouldn't wake from. A soldier stands there, holding a pile of cleaning supplies. Catra nearly hisses at the blinding light, squinting up at the soldier from her tight curl, waiting for what he does. 

“What are you doing here?” is all he says, pulling Catra out by the collar of her shirt and shoving her hard into the hallway.

“Serves you right for playing when you should be in training,” the soldier mumbles, shoving her again in a direction down the hall. She stumbles back to her barracks like the interaction had not happened, her arms and tail curled around her to keep her safe from the shadows lining the hallways, 

She decides to pretend the entire day had never happened. Lying in her bunk above Adora’s empty one and pretending she hadn’t left it the night before. 

--------)0(--------

Present time-

Catra and Cubsy build a routine. A necessary one. It's the most stability Catra has had in years but she in no way admits that to the cuddly little devil she’s letting stay In her rooms. 

More importantly Catra doesn't mind it. The longer they stay on schedule, breakfast in the morning, lunch and dinner, the healthier Cubsy looks. The more sleep Catra gets the happier she feels. 

It's the first time in years that she gets a full six hours every night.

Cubsy, the growing kit that she is, refuses to be cooped up inside. Catra only discovers this refusal to be contained in the middle of the night when the Cub should be sleeping. Catra herself is trapped in her bed, her eyes closed and her mind locked tight. 

Or as tight as it can be, which is pretty easy to pick open. 

Catra doesn't sleep much but when she does she’s haunted by the monsters in the shadows. Being awoken out of them is a blessing. Even if tonight she hadn't dreamt at all.

She keeps her body still as the dead, her breathing even and light. She doesn't flinch in the face of her timely demise. 

Catra is the perfect soldier, awake at the earliest signs of danger. Snuffling and scratching sounds come from the air duct above her and Catra is wide awake before her attacker can even get the drop on her. 

Catra waits. Her best option is to pretend to be defenseless and let her attack take the first move, then defend. If she gets up and starts peering into the vent like an idiot the assassin will knock her out and get to Cubsy all too easily. 

Accept there is no attacker. No one is struggling their way inside nor anyone will. There are no assassins lurking in her room. Catra checks every corner with her flickering eyes. Not only is there no one trying to force their way in. There's someone currently trying to sneak their way out. 

She’s snuck through Catra's air ducts, which do not even work, to reach the smoke filled outside. The unreasonable fear that grips her at the thought of losing the kit has Catra up and out of her bed before she could say ‘holy hordak’.

She nearly collapses to the floor in an effort to get her brace on, and spends another few precious seconds leaning against the doorframe with a hand shielding her eyes and squinting into the blinding artificial lighting of the Fright zones hallways. 

It'll waste too much time to go back for her glasses. 

Catra hobbles down the hall, her deafening ears struggling to pick up on Cubsy’s quiet noises. The tip tap of nails at the end of the hall is what gives her away. Catra picks up the pace as much as she can, struggling without her cane or any of her pain meds. 

Catra stumbles down the hall, probably tearing cartilage and healed ligaments in her leg. She must look like she's right out of a horror movie. She’s half collapsed against the wall, her nails scratching gouges it the floor. Trying to push herself after the noise of Cubsy’s late night excursion. 

“Cubsy '' Catra hisses, nearly falling in relief when the scratching on metal stops scurrying away from her. It only hesitates really and Catra knows the exact thought process. The cub is curious about what could be able to hear it when it's been so careful and quiet. Cubsy lets out a near silent trill before drawing nearer to the older feline.

“Come here, please ” Catra nearly wines, letting herself slide down to the floor below the nearest air vent. Her feet collapse out in front of her and Catra spends a few breathless seconds straightening them out in front of her. 

At the sound of her gravelly voice, an excited scrambling echoes through the hallway. No longer trying to be quiet, a creak breaks the early morning silence of the Frightzone. Cubsy sticks her cobwebbed covered head out of the vent and smiles cheekily down at Catra. 

Her smile slowly drops, fizzles out, when she sees Catras face. The older feline's terror is mistaken for anger. 

“Cubsy '' Catra scolds, she’s out of breath worse than she’s ever been. It burns her throat and lungs and reminds her of-  “Here, now”

Cubsy's ears droop to her head, her pupils shrinking and a fang sticks out to bite into her lower lip. She makes her way to the floor with surprising ease, her lower limbs bracing herself on the wall before she jumps like the floor is a cloud. It reminds Catra of herself at that age. Thumping around the fright zone like it's an oversized playhouse. Cubsy slinks over to Catra, her belly dragging on the floor. 

She’s flinching away before Catra can even move. The cub is shaking bad enough to throw her off balance. It pulls at the heartstrings that still have access to the Force Captain's heart and forces the anger to drain out of her. 

“Come here, darling” Catra slowly raises a hand to Cubsy’s trembling form and pets down her back, smoothing down the fur on her spine. Cubsy, unconvinced, slinks into Catra’s arms. Her eyes downcast, she rubs her head against Catra’s injured leg and then turns into a loose ball in her lap. 

Catra sighs and lets the tension drain out of her. Her legs, torso and then arms relax. It comforts the cub enough to look up and meet the older woman's eyes. Puppy cat eyes filled with unshed tears. 

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” Cubsy curls tighter, pressing her head harder into Catra’s stomach and trilling pitifully when Catra incircles the cub in her arms.  “Your just a little devil aren't you”

Ground rules are set after that. Or as close to ground rules as you can get when you’ve kidnapped a child and smuggled it into your home. 

Catra struggles back to her lair, at a much slower pace than when she had escaped it. Cubsy behind her follows guilty, eyes trained on the floor. Cubsy still won't look at her when Catra tucks her back into the top drawer of the filing cabinet, bolted into the wall, that has become Cubsy’s

Cubsy curls into the warmth there, her little hands finding the stuffed bear Catra was able to scrounge up from what was left of the cadet program, and hugging it to her chest. 

She perks up a little when Catra starts to purr, as if Catra can’t be angry if such a soothing sound is coming out of her. She slowly nods to sleep with the older woman's hand on her back. Catra; though, doesn't get a wink for the rest of the nights. Her eyes are trained on the open vent. 

The next morning, Catra gives the little trouble maker a talking-to. She doesn't know if Cubsy truly understands but she listens so intently that Catra assumes she does. The rules are pretty straightforward. 

Her ears are perked and she’s laser focused on Catra. Unbothered by the oversized clothes she’s being forced into. Catra finds them to be the cutest thing ever. Horde regulation and uncomfortable enough that Cubsy continues to wiggle out of them. 

“If you need to leave, for any reason” Catra gently takes hold of Cubsy’s small hand, guiding it through the holes of the t-shirt. “Wake me up, ok? I won't get mad, and you won't be in trouble”

Cubsy thrills as if she’s paying attention, watching Catra guide her into the shirt knowing full well the cub will immediately tear it off. 

“I just need to know where you are alright? No one gets in trouble for needing some fresh air” even if the ‘fresh air’ is smog and toxins. Catra leans down to kiss Cubsy between the eyes before she even realizes she's done it. Flustered she straightens up and lets out a cough.”I promise”

She freezes at that but Cubsy just looks up with her with a smile. She’s already wiggling out of her itchy Horde regulation uniform and it makes Catra smile in return. 

“Ok, ok” Catra chuckles and holds onto the sleeves of the uniform so Cubsy and slither out. “We’ll figure something else out for clothes.”

Cusbsy takes Catra’s promise a little too seriously. From then on their nightly outings are, well, nightly. Cubsy doesnt seem to have been punished out of her nocturnal sleep schedule. Not like Catra was. 

Catra doesn't mind it if she’s being honest. She’s not going to force Cubsy to follow an unnatural circadian rhythm. The excursions are a welcome escape. Instead of spending the nights watching that vent, now Catra’s hobbling behind Cubsy in the dark hallways of the Frightzone.

She makes Cubsy wait for her to change, put on her brace, and pick up her shades and cane before she opens the door. Cubsy, in a ratty onesie Catra was able to smuggle from the supply raids, is so full of energy by that point that she is out the door as soon as the fright zone’s harsh false light hits her face. 

Guards on the graveyard shift pretend not to see them, Catra threatens them enough to scare a turtle-bear and she thinks they get it. If any word of a cute baby magicat gets back to Hordak there will be hell to pay. 

The Guards look studiously away as Cubsy excitedly hops past and Catra hobbles behind her. Salutes and nodded heads following her down the hallway. Catra ignores them, her eyes trained on her ward. 

She’s getting more exercise than she’s had in years stumbling behind the excitable kitten. Her lungs are not impressed. They wheeze as Catra struggles up the pathways she ran through as a cadet. 

Cubsy finds her way to the top of the tallest building in the fright zone with ease. Catra followed after her slower than Adora ever had. Cubsy loves it. 

The fresh air brushes her growing main and runs its fingers through Catra's own short cropped hair. It had grown back after the portal but Catra didn't have it in her to maintain it like she used to. Instead, she crops it short and leaves it running wild. 

Though, It's soon obvious this isn’t enough for Cubsy. Catra understands more than anyone else ever would. She was in the very same spot nearly 20 years ago. 

Cubsy stares wistfully out at the Fright Zone like she’s missing something she’s never had. Catra can name the feeling because knows the feeling. It's the feeling she had the first day out of the fright zone with Adora. That first sight of real forest, and trees, and chattering birds 

Cubsy wants that. Who is Catra to deny her?

So Catra’s nightly walks turn into morning strolls. Strolls that last far longer than a stroll should, or that's the opinion of Catra’s injured legs. She goes as far as she can into the clearest parts of the fright zone on her gimp leg. She stumbles past bushes and shrubs until she reaches the outskirts of the woods. Close enough to the Fright Zone that Hordak would never know she left.

Her cub is strapped to her back with a soft piece of cloth chittering with excitement the whole way. Her eyes flutter across the cute little creatures that come out when anyone is this far from the smog and decay.  When she can walk no further Catra lets Cubsy loose.

Catra sits down on the nearest raised area in exhaustion and watches with a keen eye as the cub explores. Cubsy never wanders out of Catra’s sight but has enough fun trying to scare the older soldier every chance she can get. 

Of course Catra plays along, but only because it's detrimental to Cubsy’s prey drive. Not for any other reason. 

The cub has a little too much fun trying to find her way back to Catra’s little sanctum. Their sanctum really.  It takes her long enough to sniff out which way to go that Catra doesn't mind lazily walking behind her and watching her navigate the maze that is the Fright Zone. 

Cubsy refuses to accept any help from Catra and she doesn't usually need it. Her sense of direction rivals Catra’s own. She would make an excellent soldier.  

That thought fills Catra’s stomach with heavy dread. 

--------)0(--------

Present time-

For the second time that day, Adora wakes up with no memory of falling asleep. She knows why she’s awake this time though. Its that grating noise. 

She looks around for a second, wondering where the piercing whistling is coming from before realizing it's the ringing of her own ears.

She had easily confused it with the sound of the green pods before her humming. Their half alive occupants almost turned to look at her with their disfigured stare. In all her years under the fright zones roof she never had the privilege of entering his sanctum. 

Not until the portal went off at least. But she hadnt had a lot of time to explore before or after the event. 

She can't see much from where she’s flat on her back, but lolling her head from side to side gets easier the more she does it. On her right, an isle of green tubes lined along the wall, floating specimens with empty eyes and gaping mouths staring off into the darkness. 

On her left, more of the same.  This time though they seem to tilt and waver. But that might just be her head swimming. Either way she doesn’t like it. 

She tries to lift her weak body off the cold floor but only manages to effectively coughing mucus from her lungs. No permanent injuries as far as she can tell but she still is weaker then a new born baby. Reduced to rolling around on her back like a turtle stuck on its shell. 

That alright, she can regain her strength as she hashes out a plan. Here is the perfect vantage point anyway. There isn't any point in moving. 

Find her sword, fight her way out, don't die. It's the best plan she’s thought of all day. 

She squints for exits, finding it a little difficult to see through the darkness. Catra would have had an easier time with her night vision. Unfortunately Adora doesn't have the gift Catra once did. 

Those multi-colored eyes were a joy to see in the dark, late at night in the bunks when they stayed up whispering like little kids. They were two little kids, not that Shadow Weaver would ever let them believe it. Small and playful, unaware of how much trouble that would get them into. 

Adora blinks sporadically, the tightness of her eyes sending them fluttering. Catra’s dead now, she never would be able to be a kid. She would never be given the chances Adora had.

She’s gasping for oxygen. She doesn't know when she had lost her breath. Her once merely trembling hands shaking uncontrollably. Why can't she center that enery?  She just needs to move, obviously she can if she can tremble like a fucking chiwawa.

She has to get up, she has to find a way out, find a way to protect Etheria. Her friends. Where are her friends? Was anyone else captured or just her?

She widens her eyes as far as they will go to see more of the room, search for more crumpled bodies, for signs of life. Nothing but dead clones stare blankly back. 

She is crumbling, her sanity that is. Obviously her brain isn't working right from lack of oxygen. She has to let someone know. they need her alive, they'll help her. Why else would she still be here, laying in their dungeon of a room. 

“He- Help, help” it comes out cracked and quiet and pitiful. More sob than anything.

Adora tries to stand up again, commanding her body to move and only succeeding in a heaving sob. Her head, that had been shaking from side to side, luls uselessly around her neck. Her body is too tired to move. 

Adora can't tear her eyes away from it. She swings her head the other way, focusing on the floating body’s before her but her eyes always find their way back to the shards littering the floor. 

“How pitiful“ Adora gasps at the sound of Hordaks deep rumbling voice. “As soon as you lose sight of your friends you're nothing but a scared little girl. I would have thought Cadet training would teach you better than that”

Hordal seems genuinely confused as he staggers into Adora’s line of sight. He isn't injured, not as far as she can tell, but he isn't at full strength either. Something weighs him down, hunches his shoulders and keeps his steps from being perfectly even. 

Hordak laughs at the rambling Adora hadn't realized she was emitting. Useless words of ‘help’ and “can't”. 

He drops a load of junk onto his desk, scraps of metal and old cadet helmets. His hands pushing them around on his desk until he finds what he needs. 

“Adora,” He croons softly, sounding too much like the figure that raised her, lifting a helmet from his pile of trash and examining it. “The great She-ra” he spits that out like a swear.

“I expected more. From what my Force Captains had told me you are a great opponent, none of them had ever come close to your level. Except of course-”

“Keep her name out of her mouth” Adora growls, she isn't very threatening from her heap on the floor. 

Hordak laughs gravely, moving towards Adora with a bloody smile. 

“It makes sense though, doesn't it? You trained together, were raised together. It only makes sense that you're on the same level.” Hordak laughs,  “That's the real Question isn't it? You should be on the same level. But you aren't, are you?” Hordak grins and leers over the blonde. 

“Catra could defeat you at her worst and your best. An amazing show of skill from a cadet that days before had been so useless . Turning into someone who was a match for the ‘great She-ra’. a match for the bain of Horde Primes existence, in a matter of hours”

Hordak takes hold of Adora’s shirt and drags her up in a show of strength she wouldn't have guessed Hordak had.  The man is hunched and pained, looking like the old man he is. 

“Where is Queen Glimmer and the rest of your pitiful rebellion hiding.” he asks, slamming her back into the cold metal of his sanctum. He growls in the face of her silence, “tell me”

“Fuck you” she coughs, blood splattering Hordak’s face from a split lip. Horde prime grows, he was never much for getting information out of someone.  “Even Catra is better at interrogation than you”

“You're going to tell me what I need to know or you're gonna end up just like her. Crippled-”

“Kill me, then” Adora spits in his face, forcing a grin at Hordaks angry face. “I'll die before I tell you-”

She’s out for a second. The blackness creeping into her vision took over for what felt like but could only have been a few moments.  

“I'll do much worse than kill you” Hordak growls, shaking the blonde with the very hands he just used to hit her. 

“Lord Hordak” the interruption is like a balm on Adora’s ears. Her eyes glance to the opened door, following Hordak’s line of sight. She knows that man, seen him in pictures. She knows Catra had liked him at least. 

Hordak slowly turns his head to the trembling Force Captain in the hallway. Taggart, one hand holding a stack of manilla files. The other, holding him up in the doorway. 

“You wanted to see me?” His timid question makes Hordak grit his teeth. He drops Adora into a heap on the ground, picking his helmet up from where he had dropped it onto the table and turning his back on Adora. 

The act makes her want to scream. Turning his back on a harmless enemy. Adora growls like a magicat. 

“Im disappointed.” he says, opening the helmet with a squeal of hinges, “I thought my cadet program was better at creating soldiers with fight. You did nothing except death like a child.”

He grabs the back of Adora’s neck and forces her up into a sitting position, easily knocking her hands to the side and forcing her head straight.

Then the helmet is snapped onto her head and Adora is thrown in darkness. She can’t hear a thing, only feels the harsh hands pushing her back down to the floor and clicking manacles onto her wrist.

She screams, tugging at the chains and forcing all the fight left in her into her arms and legs. It’s no use. She can’t move, forced to kneel in Hordak’s sanctum like a begging servant.

--------)0(--------

Year of the portal- Immediately after

She can barely breath, thick drying green sludge covers her fur in stinging clumps. Hordaks grip on her neck squeezes her air way shut. He trudges through the discarded trash like a hunter through mud. 

He had pulled her from the vent where she was trying desperately to escape. Her body is no longer the size of a child though. She hadn't even made it halfway in, her ribcage blocking her from slipping soundlessly though the opening. 

Hordak pulled her out by the scruff of her neck and then base of her throat, her nails digging into the wall and then floor. Her feet send trash skittering through the hallway as she kicks for purchase. 

Broken pieces of chairs, papers, guns, Trash litter the hallway. Soldiers created as much distraction as possible during their great escape. The Frightzone is smothered in the stench of overflowing manure.

“Insolent bastard” Hordal growls, his dead green eyes facing forward in the flashing hallway. The Emergency alarms are still going off. The doors of the Frightzone slamming open and shut just as she planned. 

It's hard to capture someone when the door slams shut on you, crushing vital organs. 

He uses his own body weight as leverage to drag the feline down the hallway, his eyes flashing over the name plates of the few doors lining the walls. 

Hordak’s suit sparks and spits creating spots of light in the dark. Catra digs her claws in the floor trying to prevent Hordak from dragging her any closer to his destination. . Her nails carve rivers into the metal plating. 

His grip on her arm tightens, he glares down at her with bared teeth and forces her head down towards the floor with a palm to her brain stem. It yanks her forward, causes her to stumble and sends her vision spiraling. 

“I thought you had potential, drive” he sneers, the flashing red lights of the hallway throwing his face into pulsing shadow. “I see now that you're nothing but an animal.”

“Fuck… you” Catra grinds out, her lungs screaming for breath. She deny’s them the pleasure and yanks herself down, hard against the floor. She hits the metal plating with a thud, the little air in her chest suctioning out.

Hordal stumbles, a groan escaping his lips as his armor creaks like old hinges. He drops to a knee beside Catra, his hand releasing its grip on her windpipe to steady himself on the floor. It lands beside her damaged ribs, caging her in. 

Catra twists like a drill, her spine spinning her bones and landing her on her stomach below the tyrant. Her hands reach out for the trash, one finding a chair leg and another just grazing a flash of metal. 

“Two decades of giving you safety” Hordal grips the wrist holding the broken chair leg and slams it against the floor. He kneels over her like a man at the altar, praying for forgiveness. 

“Twenty years of providing food, of teaching you how to survive.” his other hand grips Catra’s shoulder, forcing her back on her back, her soft underbelly up towards the sky. It twists her arm hard enough to hear a crack but Catra’s too busy to notice.

“You ruin everything you touch,”

Her free hand grazes the metal again and she jerks, slamming a palm down on the hilt of a gun for a split second. She grins ferally at the man, clone, thing. He's hunched like an animal, teeth bared, eyes wide and threatening. 

“Ruin?!” Catra cackles, her head tilting back against the dirty metal floor, arching her spine. “Ruin? I brought you the sword for that stupid portal. I brought you closer to Brightmoon than the Horde has ever been. I survived the barren wasteland of the desert you sent me to DIE IN”

Catra’s jaw shakes with rage as she speaks, spit flying from her mouth. She shoves her free hand into the monster's face. He grunts and releases her other arm. She slams the broken chair leg down on his face, carving a river of blood and wood and splinters. 

Hordal screams, not in pain but in rage, both of his hands going to his face. He curls inward and around his own vulnerable stomach. Catra takes the small freedom it allows her and stretches up. 

Catra reaches for the gun, her hand gripping it around the hilt and swinging it around. not towards Hordak, where he expects her to, but her own head. Before Hordak even realizes he is in no danger of his head being blown off Catra has squeezed the trigger. 

The gun presses hard against her soft fur, the muzzle caressing her temple. The gears ‘click’.

 It doest go off.

 Catra’s heart jumps from her ribcage and beats angrily against her chest. She squeezes the trigger a second time, a third, a forth. 

nothing. 

Hordal starts to laugh. Catra starts to snarl. She goes to squeeze the trigger a fifth time but the gun is stolen from her. Gripped in Hordaks unyielding hand. He points the revolver down the hallways and shoots, laughing even harder when the gun finally goes off, blowing a hole into the far wall. 

He squeezes, The metal bends and warps, pinching like foil before dropping it to the floor. 

“You're only going to die when I let you die” a fist smashes into her temple, sending the world around her into blotchy watercolor. Hordak leans back and up, releasing her and raising his arms to the sky, “Your going to live long enough to know true peace, Catra”

Hordak grins down at her. A gash splitting his chin in a painful curl. “I will give you mercy, i'll let Lord Prime have you. He will take away all of this terrible pain you're in '' he snatches Catra’s hand out of the air as it swings to hit him, taking her other hand and forcing them both to the floor next to her head. 

He leers over her, spit and blood dripping from his chin and landing in the soft fur of Catra’s cheek. 

“And then I'm going to take it all away from you” Hordak chuckles, his eyes wide and unblinking. “I'm going to steal your happiness, your peace.  just like you did to me. ”

Hordak sighs, the smile dropping off his face and into the pit of Catra’s stomach. “But first, you're going to fix your mistake, your miscalculation. Me and you, Catra” Hordak leans closer, his yellow teeth glinting through his bloody mouth. “Where going to conquer Etheria together,”

Hordak forces Catra up, dragging her through the garbage littering the hallway by her wrists. His desperate and angry determination is renewed. Catra is held in a vice grip and she can do nothing but scramble for purchase when he throws her into the nearest trashed room. 

This appears to be the destination he was heading for all along. It's barren. A bed, a kitchen, a comms room and a bathroom line the walls. There's nothing personal about it but the maps pinned to the far wall. 

A man sits, hunched over the comms panel, his eyes focused on the commands he’s writing into the screen. Nothing important but the last line to every command. “Shut off”

“Force Captain Taggart” Hordak declares, a hand slamming into the control panel and sending the door hurtling into the floor, sealing them inside. “If it isn't the disgraced bastard I wanted to see”

“Hordak” Taggart slams a hand down on his comms desk. The flashing lights of cameras all over the fright zone fizzing out goes dark in a second. 

“Oh, don't worry. I know about your little tyranny, Taggart.” Hordak steps over Catra’s bleeding form, stumbling his way towards Taggart like a drunk. “I know all about your useless strategies, your saving graces. Your sabotaged battles.”

Hordak takes the man by the lapels of his uniform, hoisting him out of his chair and onto his unsteady legs. 

You're in luck! My old friend,” Hordal shoves him to the floor next to Catra’s trembling body. “You're being fired! Replaced!”

Catra?” Taggart mumbles, his eyes widening in horror at the state of Catra’s body. A leg reduced to torn muscle and exposed blood vessels. Fur covered in tingling green acid and blood leaking from enough open wounds to kill a buffalo hippo. “What-”

“Catra here thinks she can make command decisions, do whatever she wants. She wants to undermine my authority for the sake of a little rebellion, don't you Catra”

Catra lifts a middle finger to the man, her body curling around her stomach. 

“Well, Catra! You're being promoted.”

“I'm not doing shit for you”  Catra growls, spitting on the floor before the dictator. 

“Oh you will, even if it's the death of you.” Hordak leans down into the feline's bleeding face. “Do you know why?”

Catra ignores him and raises an arm to slash at the man, her weak attempt of an attack is halted halfway through when Hordak catches the arm easily. 

“Because if you don't, every city, kingdom, person from here to the Crimson Waste will be leveled to the ground.”

Catra freezes her eyes widening at Hordaks threat. 

“I won't hesitate to kill us in the process. Sure, you'll finally be dead but so will every cadet in the fright zone. Every man, woman and child for the next ten thousand miles. You know I have the means to do it.”

And Catra did know, she had watched Entrapta build it. She had heard the woman explain the mechanisms of the biggest nuclear bomb in all of Etheria like it was a normal tuesday afternoon. 

Hordak takes Catra’s silence as submittance. He grins feraly at her, his green, stained teeth glinting in the harsh Horde lighting. He finally turns back to Taggart, a disgusted snarl transforming his face.

“Force Captain Taggart, How far you've finally fallen.”

Hordal raises his arm to the man still shivering on the floor, his arm cannon warming up for a killing blow. 

“You're actually going to kill him?” Catra asks, seemingly disinterested. She doesn't even look at the two of them, her eyes trained on the far wall. Hordak scoffs and trains the cannon on her, 

“I only have use for one of you,-”

“The greatest strategist to ever grace the Horde’s rotten center and you're just gonna kill him. Like he isn't the most useful person in your entire arsenal.”

Catra finally looks up at the man, looking less at Hordak and more into the cannon that's about to kill her. “Look around shit for brains, the only people you have are half living treasonist and children. None of them respect you”

Hordal sneers at that, his gun revving up to an ear splitting volume. 

“If you kill off everyone they actually respect, everyone they are willing to follow your going to end up with a cluster fuck. The Horde will fall before it can even start to rebuild. The Great Lord Hordak Vanquished by his own idiocy.”

--------)0(--------

Present time-

Cubsy refuses to eat the ration bars that have sustained Catra her whole life. She even goes as far to smack the bars from Catra’s hand if she sees the feline eating them herself. Lonnie’s, usually untouched weekly rations, becomes a necessity. 

Lonnie herself seems intrigued by the smaller version of Catra now stalking the Force Captain's cramped quarters. 

“Where'd you find it?” she asks, leaning down to get a better look at the cub hissing and spitting at her from the bed. 

“I found her near the loading bay” Catra grumbles, slowly loading the groceries into her fridge with one hand, the other is occupied keeping Catra up right and steady on the kitchen counter. 

“It's so… cute” Lonnie says this like it disgusts her. Catra rolls her eyes nearly out of her head.

“ Cubsy is my ward now so your respect would be appreciated.”

“I literally didn't even do anything” Lonnie raises her hands to the ceiling in innocence, “she the one swearing me up and down the wall, I mean the mouth on this one.”Cubsy spits at Lonnie again, the hair on her spine raising impossibly higher. 

“She can’t speak Lonnie, and you're freaking her out with your higher than thou attitude” Catra glares at Lonnie's posture and the Force captain rolls her eyes, forcing her shoulders to slouch and her feet to widen in a welcoming stance. 

Cubsy calms significantly at Lonnie’s changes in demeanor, her hair doesn't lower but her spitting and hissing stops. 

Catra closes the fridge with a groan, straightening with a hand on her back. Lonnie winces in sympathy 

“Look,” Lonnie runs a hand over her braids and looks back down at the cub, “I honestly think having a cub will be good for you. You have that whole, ‘please kill me at the soonest convenience’ vibe.” Lonnie hesitates and looks Catra up and down “ It really isn't working for you by the way”

“Fuck of” Catra growls and levels Lonnie with a withering glare. When her eyes fall back on Cubsy she visibly softens. Lonnie watches it all with a raised eyebrow. 

“Your little litter of one is cute but you're a pile of bones as it is.” Lonnie gestures to Catra’s hunched state. The feline hobbles into the bed, straightening her legs out before her and smiling as Cubsy presses into her arms with a concerned grumble. Catra hands the cub her pacifier back, watching her press it into her mouth. 

“Having kids is a lot of bending down and picking them up and picking up other people when they knock them down.” Lonnie refuses to swoon at the cute little bundle of fur that presses into the crook of Catra’s neck.

The older feline leans back against her head board and stretches out as much as she can to relieve the tension in her unruly bones.  

“A rowdy one like her is going to take a toll on you” She nearly faints when Catra starts to purr. She hasn't seen her do that since… well since she who shall not be named, up and abandoned them. 

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Lonnie asks, and she regrets it as soon as it's out of her mouth. Catra doesn’t level her with a glare,  Doesn't hiss or spit, she doesn't even puff up her chest in indignation. She just looks at Lonnie with one arm securely around the cub that's buried herself into the Force Captain's heart. 

Her eyes are glinting with happiness. Her tail twitching as if she doesn't even know it's doing it. 

Catra is happy, for the first time in years. 

Her glasses aren't even securely strapped to her face. They hang loosely from her shirt

Lonnie knows that even if she wanted to, Catra would never be letting this cub go. They’re family now.

Catra would die for this little kid that had her wrapped around her pinky. Before Catra would gladly die, period. Now she seemingly has something to live for. That's better than nothing.

It's too bad this is something that really isn't going to be good for her deteriorating body. 

“Sorry” Lonnie murmurs, she relaxes onto the bed next to Catra, she curls her legs under her and straightens up. She holds her hands out for the fluffy thing. “at least let me see this little monster.”

“Oh, are you aunty Lonnie now?” Catra teases, handing off the ospring who very much does not want to let go of the feline. Cubsy whines but releases Catra when the old woman lets out a comforting trill. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m been a very good mother“

“That little monster Hordak called a clone is not a child.” Catra deadpanned, curling her lip in disgust “It tried to eat Cubsy”

Cubsy herself hisses at the mention of the imp. Thought that doesn't stop her from snuggling into Lonnie’s arms.

“He’s spirited” Lonnie defends, thinking of her little terror and wincing. She runs a hand down Cubsy’s ratty clothed back. “This thing is going to need better clothes,” Lonnie raises an eyebrow at the outfit Cubsy is supporting. “What is she wearing, a hoodie?”

“It's the only thing she won't tear off as soon as I get it on her” Catra melts into the pillows framing her body. Arms relaxing around her torso. “Those Horde reg uniforms are terrible. I would know.”

“Would you?” Lonnie asks, raising an eyebrow, “because you never wore them, you'd rather run around stark naked 

“For good reason to” Catra sighs, unconcerned with her childhood indecency “those things are torture.

Lonnie tries to tickle the cub. Sticking her fingers into Cubsy’s side gently. The feline jerks and growls, scrambling out of Lonnie's arms and into the relative safety of Catra’s hip. Lonnie’s hands fly up like a kid who just broke a plate. 

“Woah” she says, nursing a scratch in her hand and eyeing the little rat. “She’s jumpy, huh?”

“Yeah” Catra says, comforting the cub with a sigh and pulling her into her arms. “You can't do that. She doesn't like to be touched without knowing it's coming” 

“I'm sorry” , Lonnie bites her lip and stands gently from the bed, making sure not to jostle the two felines. 

“You know what it's like” Catra doesn't seem angry, just tired but Lonnie feels bad anyway. “Been there done that right?” Catra grins and slides her shades on, blocking her eyes from Lonnie's sight.

She says she does it because the light gives her migraine but she knows Catra’s doesn't like looking anyone in the eye. 

She jolts at the beeping coming from Catra’s tablet. The screen flashes in a little icon of Catra’s face and the feline grins. 

“That would be Scurvy’s report finally coming in.” she picks the thing up, tucking Cubsy against her chin with one hand and swiping through her files with the other. That girl and her reports. It entertains Lonnie to no end. "a weak late"

For someone who would once die before filling out paperwork she has really taken to making everyone else do it. 

“Alright, I got to go before Rogelio thinks you've eaten me,”

“I knew that overgrown lizard was afraid of me.” Catra mumbles, refusing to take her eyes from her tablet. 

“I'm going to tell him you said that,”

“Please do” Catra grins and winks at Lonnie, “tell his boyfriend that his girlfriend ate the last gray ration. Actually, never mind,  maybe I'll tell him myself”

“Hey!” Lonnie swipes Catra’s tablet, raising an eyebrow at the woman's indignant squawk. “See me bringing you anything next week, lord knows you and your little minnie me would starve without me.”

“I would be damn fine without you and you know it.” Lonnie stares at her with an incredulous expression and Catra lowers her ears just a bit. 

“That's what I thought” Lonnie mutters, throwing the tablet just out of Catra’s reach. She points at the feline and opens the door, “get that poor child some actual clothing please, people are gonna start thinking she’s being neglected,”

“They already think that” Catra mumbles, eyeing her tablet from across the bed, the report still flashing on her screen. "Lonnie?"

The girl turns in the doorway with a raised eyebrow. 

"How do you feel about babysitting?"

All Lonnie does is laugh, walking right out the door without even answering. 

--------)0(--------

Catra’s eyes are focused forward and at attention, like a good little cadet. Letting them wander will only get her and the blonde in the center of the room in trouble. The blonde that is here in the Fright zone. 

Adora, chained to the floor like a dog, slumps forward. It makes her shackles clink and jingle together. Not that she can hear it. Catra knows. That deprivation helmet encasing her head will block out any outside stimuli. 

Her eyes had locked on the blonde as soon as she walked in, a bolt of shock straightening her spine. Cuts litter Adora’s arms like freckles. No doubt shrapnel. Maybe a SME that exploded far too early. Whatever it was had not treated the blond kindly. 

Catra wouldn't assume anything that's brought the Blonde to the Fright Zones doorstep has treated her kindly. Catra doesn't even know why Adora’s is here, it wasn't in any of the reports. Not a single Force Captain mentioned the capture of the most important person in all of Etheria. 

A Horde secret out of even Catra’s clearance. It's nearly unheard of. Catra doesn't appreciate the surprise. A warning by, at least, Taggart would have been nice. Catra glares at the man across the room, he sheepishly smiles back. 

The vibrant green tanks that light Hordaks sanctum and send a chill running down Catra’s spine bath Adora in a sickly color, making her look far worse for wear then she probably is. Or so Catra hopes. 

Catra itches to stand before the blonde. See the girl that left her behind all those years ago. Catra knows that even if she did she wouldn't see her . She’d see Adora, yes, but Adora isn't the same girl who left Catra standing in a field of smoke, blood, and tanks. 

Just like how Catra isn't the girl who set off that portal.  

“Finally” he growls victoriously, Hordak’s hands slam against the meeting table making most of the beaten Force Captain jump. Catra stays perfectly still, not even an ear twitches at the commotion. 

She doesn't let her eyes leave the replica of Etheria. If they do, she knows she won't be able to keep them from focusing on Adora’s hunched form. 

The room stinks of gunpowder and war grounds. The crumpled figures in the chairs around the table fill the room with blood and loss. They may have won the battle but the losses have hit even the biggest squadrons hard. 

Grizzlor is shaking, his hands covering his abdomen where a stain of blood has been steadily growing. 

“After years of nothing..” he snarls at Catra who again stays perfectly unbothered. ‘Nothing’ is referring to the hundred towns Catra has safely conquered, The recruits Catra was rebuilt into fighting shape and the ammunition Catra has rebuilt to its former glory. 

“We’re finally taking Etheria once and for all.” Hordak points to Adora’s slumped form proudly, “ After nearly seven years of fighting the newly returned She-ra, I have finally brought her to her knees!”

Octavia scoffs quietly from her place at the table. She should be glad it was quiet enough to keep Hordak from hearing her. Catra wouldn't put it behind him for killing her for treason. 

Hordak ignores his table of Force Captains in favor of dragging the mighty She-ra to her feet. Holding her up proudly by the back of the neck for them to see. 

Catra feels fear grip her at Adora’s limp exhausted state. As if the fights had been sucked out of her. The most she does in retaliation to Hordak’s rough treatment is try her hardest to keep at least a toe on the ground, her boots scrambling for purchase on Hordak’s dirty flooring.

“I have the rebellion running with its tail between its legs” he seems to be talking to himself now, admiring Adora like She’s a trophy to be put on his wall. “I've bashed out the teeth of the wolf. The only thing left to do is cut off its head”

Catra stills at that, waiting for Hordak to pull out a knife, to slit Adora’s throat and let her fall to the floor. To take his metaphor too far and chop off her head completely. 

He doesn't, he lets Adora fall to the floor, heaped and trembling. 

“She-ra is gone” he growls triumphantly. Catra glances up in surprise, her curiosity about Adora’s precious sword finally quenched when she spots the shattered pieces of a weapon Hordak gestures to. “The sword shattered leaving nothing left but a worthless Horde soldier.”

“The rebellion is nothing but seven worthless princesses and a handful of desert. The rebellion is dead!”

He’s mistaken though. He’s wrong. She would be beheaded for such treason if spoken out loud but it's the truth. Catra knows for a fact the rebellion still lives and is mostly better off. They may not be holding the most land but they surely have the better army. 

Recruits with something to fight for are all concentrated and ready to defend Brightmoon’s Queen with their lives. A desperate force is a force willing to fight for the smallest scraps and take the biggest risks, dying be damned.

Hordak is losing it, he has been since the day of the portal. His desperate cray rant only cementing it this in Catra’s mind. She thinks that he left something behind that day too. Catra got ripped apart physically and he got ripped apart mentally. 

Something was stolen from him, just like her. His compassion probably, or what was left of it. 

Entrapta had thought there was something left. She had once thought she was getting through to him, helping him. 

Boy was she wrong. 

His cruelty has known no end. 

“With that nuisance finally out of the way” Hordal topples the figurine with She-ra sparkly name written across it. “There is nothing holding me back”

Hordak slides his little troop flags across the war table and into the outskirts of the little Brightmoon stronghold. Or where he thinks it is. The crimson waste was nothing but a nomad wasteland but he doesn't need to know that. 

The Horde war room has never looked better in his opinion. Horde symbols flashes all over the map. The walls are bathed in tattered and “historic” Horde scraps. 

“We’re moving in,” he growls, turning towards his subject with a snarl. “I’m taking the rest of the Rebellion down now. Today. No more scrounging around in squalor.”

If by squalor he means the luxury he's been squatting in then sure. He's been enjoying the spoilers of war, tech, food, delicacies, while everyone else has been struggling to find ration bars for their cadets. 

It's funny how he says that. ‘Im’. Hordak hasn't been in the field in years. Hasn't left his sanctum in longer. Neither has Catra but she has a valid reason. Damaged beyond fighting condition at the portal. If she tried to defend troops of her own she would just die, Hordak would never allow that.

He barely allows her out of his sight

“Lord- Lord Hordak, sir” Force Captain Scurvy places his hand tentatively on the table. They are encrusted with black residue. His nails are stained a dirty brown.  His gleaming red eye glints with a hint of fear. It's the wrong choice for him. Hordak smells it on him like a shark on blood. “We’re spread thin, an attack now without regrouping-”

“Silence” Hordak commands, his fury leaving his precious battle board and focusing on the frail man before him. Scurvy’s mechanical eye twitches and glitches as his remaining eye widens. “You dare doubt my leadership?

“Of course not, Lord Hordak” Scurvy gasps “I'm only suggesting-

“And I’m, telling you-” Hordak growls, deep in the back of his throat. And stands from his throne at the head of the table. At his full height he leers over Scurvy with his vicous grimace. “That we’re taking Brightmoon, now”

“If we try to take Rebellion now,” Catra saves Scurvy from a beheading, the man looks to Catra with such gratitude the feline has to look away. “We will fail” Catra lifts her hands and gestures to the map of Etheria. 

“We're spread too thin, the little troops we have close enough to the Crimson Waste will crumble and die under the Princesses forces. it'll set us back even further as we re group for a second attack"

“We wouldn't be spread thin if you hadn't dismantled the Cadet Program” Hordak turns his malice on Catra. She relaxes as she’s forced out of her chair. She’s been here before, a hand on her neck and a gun stuck in her gut. Now though, she knows Hordaks threats are baseless. “I'm starting to think that you are nothing but a hindrance.”

“Yes, we would have more man power, more bodies to throw at the problem, but we would never have made it this far with the uprising a bunch of children caused. Rioting would be running rampant, We would still be scrounging around in the Crimson Waste looking for scraps.” Catra chokes out, her hand instinctively grips Hordak;s forearm, covering the many claw marks that are already gouged into his metal armor. 

“Well then force Captain Catra,” Hordak shoves Catra back into her chair, sending it screeching away a few inches and scraping against the floor. The Force Captain’s around the table jump and lower their heads in the face of Hordaks fury. “What do you suggest we do, oh great strategist”

Catra, stony faced and refusing to show the weakness being thrown around like a ragdoll causes, clears her throat. “I suggest we withdraw forces from the Fright Zone, concentrate them on the defense in The Crimson Waste and once we have enough for an effective army, then attack. We will still be outnumbered but with enough man power we can strategize a way through their defense. It's the best way with minimum casualties and the quickest route to success.”

“And how long would that take? '' Hordak looks back to his war table, at his list of Victories across etheria. 

“Longer than you would like” Catra admits, her hands finding purchase against her cane. She rests it between her knees and leans forward on it a little to straighten her back .”but quicker than a loss and then a consequential regroup would take”

Grizzlor, ever the voice of destruction, speaks up and surprises Catra. 

“I agree” he says gruffly, his hands planted firmly on the arms of his chair. His burly tail whips back and forth nervously behind him.  “My troops are running on fumes, we need time to refuel and reload. A grace period would be greatly appreciated,” Grizzlor coughs and bows his head “you greatness”

Hordak growls and turns to the rest of his Force Captains. “And you are all in agreement?” When the rest of the forcaptains lower or nod their heads, eyes furiously avoiding Hordaks,  the man growls. But concedes. 

“Fine, two weeks,” he spins on his heel and turns towards his wall of monitors, “Go “regroup” obtain and waste my resources I have so graciously given you; but, I'll be expecting nothing but victory. Failure will not be tolerated. Am I clear?” he turns towards Catra and Catra only, his eyes trained on hers, and the feline understands. 

If this results in failure, Catra won't be coming home unscathed. Or well, she won't be leaving the Frigthzone unscathed. She might not leave the Fright zone at all. 

The thought used to give Catra a sense of anticipation. If she loses this battle Hordak might accidentally kill her. Before, that was something Catra had wanted. But that was before. Before the empty creaking of her sanctum was replaced was happy giggles and nails on metal. 

Her mind drifts to Cubsy, Cubsy who as of now is alone in Catra’s sanctum. She doesn't handle being alone very well but Catra doesn't trust any of the force Captains available enough to keep her cub safe for longer than a few minutes. Not with Taggart returning back to his home early this evening. This meeting has lasted hours. 

“Get out” Hordak growls at his Force Captains, all of which immediately stand. They hurry to be the first out of the room and away from Hordak. Catra is quick to follow but her crippled leg hinders her. 

“Force Captain Catra” Catra stills, leaning heavily on her cane and halfway out of her chair, Hordak’s voice comes as a seething growly, but most of his words do. “Sit down”

Like a dog, Catra sits back down. 

When the last Force Captain leaves, with a concerned backward glance at Catra’s aerie still form, Hordak finally turns around. He’s angry. Very angry, Catra can tell by what the snarling grimace his face has formed into. He leers over Catra like he did Force Captain Scurvy, his hands at his side and curled into claws. 

“You think you can disrespect me infront of my army?” he asks, “in front of my trusted confidants,” what a joke. The only person Hordak has ever confided in, is himself. 

“after finally doing something with that blood soaked brain of yours and capturing a princess, you decide to ruin it with subordination,”

“Lord Hordak, I meant no harm-” Catra bows her head in submission, her hand clutching at her cane. 

“I know what you meant” Hordak interrupts Catra, his hands clamping down on her chair's armrest and locking Catra in place. The feline stays still, seemingly unconcerned with his closeness, her hands sitting as close to primly on her cane as she can manage. “You meant to undermine me.”

“Of course not-eugh” one of Hordak’s clawed hands comes to snatch Catra around the throat, squeezing her airway closed, pushing her against the back of her chair.

“You want to wait? scrounge together troops and waste my time? Then this is now your problem. Anything that goes wrong, anything that blows up in your face? It's now your fault. You hear me? “

Catra nods as much as she can with a hand holding her by her neck and a large wooden chair keeping her head in place. 

“If I hear that you're hiding away in that rat hole you call a room instead of focusing on this mess you made-”

Catra hurriedly nods again. 

“I only keep you around for one purpose and one purpose only” Hordak pulls Catra closer, his hot breath hitting her face and curling her lip in disgust, “when my beloved brother finally finds me again he’ll want to know the true reason why it took me so long to conquer this planet and when I tell him it was your doing he’ll make sure you are punished in a way I could never have dreamed.”

Catra nods her head calmly, agreeing with the clone as best she can. His lip curls at her and his hand releases, sending her falling back into her chair. 

“Get out”

“What are you going to do with her” 

Hordak straightens in surprise at Catra/s forward question. She hadn't asked one like that since before she was second in command. his gleaming red eyes focusing on Catra in a way they hadn't all evening, with clarity 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

“I would”

Hordak stares at Catra but his clarity only lasts so long, he turns to Adora spits flying from his mouth. “She hasn't given me anything useful. Her mouth has been ignorantly clamped shut. She has more use to me dead than she ever has alive, especially now that She-ra is dead and buried” he smiles as if this should please Catra. or crush her. Catra doesnt know which. 

“Is that so?” Catra asks, she tries to radiate a secretive energy. Like she was keeping something from him. To Hordak Adora might be useless. To her, Adora is a diamond in the rough, if only she could get her hands on her. 

Hordak turns back to her with a snarl,  “ Do you have a way of getting her to talk that I don't?”

“We grew up together, same squadron, same bunk bed even”. Catra admits, as if Hordak didn't already know that. He should at least, Catra doesn't fully expect him too. 

Hordak starts to laugh “you want me to spare your last remaining friend, do you?”

“I would have more luck getting her to talk then you would, she knows me, emphasizes with me.” Catra turns to Adora’s hunched frame. “The poor thing might even start to believe ill help her “

“You think she trusts you in some way” Hordak grins “and why would you want to get anything out of her huh? You want to know how many of your little Rebellion friends have died? You want to know if Scorpia is dead?”

“I just want to know how I can best take the rebellion down without killing people who don't need to die.” Catra admits. That little bit of truth seals the deal better than she thought it would. Hordak believes her and snaps onto the bait. 

“Take her and get out” he turns away, a hand snapping at Catra’s detail who hurry over to the slumped form, picking the blonde up by her elbows and hardly notice the pathetic struggle the mighty She-ra starts to give. 

“Yes, lord Hordak” Catra stumbles from her chair, her legs have gone weak from the lack of air in her blood. Her heart beating viciously from the interaction, making the room spin a teeter. Her leg collapses under her and she leans heavily on her cane to support her wait. 

Hordak turns as if her pitiful display disgusts him and shoves her, it almost sends her sprawling but she manages to catch herself on the battle table, her good leg taking the brunt of the impact. 

“She’s dead as soon as you stop getting a steady stream of information from her, Catra” Hordak lays a hand down on his throne, his fingers clenching the medal in a death grip. 

“Yes Lord Hordak” Catra concedes, her eyes trained on the blonde held between the guard’s grip. She steadily makes her way from the room, slipping her shades down over her eyes against the harsh light of the hallway. 

Her pace quickens as the door nears.  She isn't sure if she’s running towards the safety of the hallway or away from those bubbling green tanks. 

She can hear Hordak making his way deeper into his sanctum on her way out. What she doesn't notice, or doesn't care to notice,  is the way he stumbles into his control board, blood seeping from his mouth. His arms are shaking as they try to support his weight. 

He's running out of time. His body is deteriorating faster than he anticipated. He should have years, decades left. That Portal. The portal that ingrate had set off. It had done something to him. 

It must have taken something from him. It changed him. He can barely stand now. 

His eyes draw to the black garnet, to the broken, shattered, sword on the table before him. 

The runestone and those chunks of metal are his last hope. 

--------)0(--------

Catra shuffles further away from Hordaks sanctum, a hand firmly on Adora’s waist. The Blonde is as warm as she has ever been but trembling. The guards behind her both keep a steady hand on Adora’s shoulders steering her towards Catra’s lair at a quick pace.

Catra keeps time with them even with her leg, the adrenaline coursing through her making it easy to ignore the pain. She has Adora. For as long as Hordak will allow her too of course but the outcome is still the same. 

Adora is hers. 

Adora stumbles, unsure of herself not being able to see and it makes Catra grin. Bumbling as always. It seems the girl Catra once knew isn't completely gone. She bites her lip at her own childish actions but she can't help but have the guards turn the blonde around once they round the corner. 

Hidden from view of Hordak’s sanctum Catra grins with feral abandon. 

Catra didn't think she would ever see her again but here she is. She all but basks in the blonde’s warm light. 

She excitedly tucks her cane under her arm as the blonde stumbles nearer. Her boots clunk and drag awkwardly against the metal floor. Goosebumps run up her muscled arms from the cold that permanently lingers in the hallways. 

Catra notes that Adora is covered in mud. Mud stained red and smelling disturbingly of iron.  

Her shirt is different from what Catra’s used to. From her time in the field she knew that Hord regulation rags were all Adora would wear. The clothing she would never take off is gone, along with the red jacket. Adora is left with a sleeveless blue shirt. Black tactical pants and black boots. 

Her arms hang loosely in the guards grip but still show off impressive muscle. 

It's bland, practical and so like Adora Catra’s tail happily sways behind her. She doesn't know how Adora will react to seeing her but she’s hoping she doesn't get a punch to the face this time. 

Catra deserved it at the time, leering over Adora in her damaged form, portal running through her veins and singing the skin from her body, but still. 

Catra, ultimately, even in her own damaged mind, had done the right thing. Even if it had gotten the queen killed. 

Catra sobers and brushes some of the mud from Adora’s neck and shoulders. The thought of Adora being happy to see her, of being angry even. Stills Catra faster than any of Hordak’s threats ever had and makes her heartbeat with reckless abandon. . 

The guards pull Adora to a stop in front of the feline. Their shielded visors pointed respectfully away as Catra unclips her Horde Cloak and draps in over Adora’s shoulders. She has fur to warm her, Adora has nothing.

She runs her fingers up Adora’s neck and under the deprivation helmet, taking her time to brush her fingertips of her pulse point. The Blond shivers, probably from the cold as Catra finds the release switches and fiddles with them. she can't help but smirk satisfactorily as the helmet hisses and releases Adora's neck and jaw from its hold. 

A thin red line is all the evidence the helmet was ever there. 

Adora gasps as Catra gently lifts the helmet off her head, surely relieved with the fresh fright zone air instead of the recycled O2 in the helmet. She breathes deeply, her eyes frantically fluttering around the hall, searching for an attacker maybe, before finally landing on the woman in front of her. 

She’s silent for a moment, her mouth gaping like a fish. Catra herself grins widely, showing off her impressive array of perfectly white and kept canines.

“Catra?” It sounds like a question. Adora, it seems, is at a loss for words. She reacts, in slow motion, as if Catra had just jumped out and scared her. Her eyes widen, her body stiffens and her mouth pops open and drops. 

“Hey Adora” Catra flicks up her glasses, giving the blonde a good look at her mutilated face. She hadn't even thought to be self conscious of her scarring but now that Adora’s eyes are on her, Catra can't help but be nervous. 

“Are you real?” Adora asks, silence thickens in the hallway. Her eyes trace the scar down Catra’s face, the one that clefts her lip and sends her eyelid askew.

Catra is stumped by that, looking up at Adora with a confused lopsided grin, “of course im real? When have i not been?”

 When Catra sets down her cane to lean on, Adora focuses on that instead, like a tank cannon on a target.

“Catra” she whispers again, like a broken record really. “Are you- you’re real this time?” she asks again. 

Catra can't stand it. The disbelief of her existence is a little jarring. Both her and Adora handle most situations with humor, it's what a child soldier does. The nervous ramble that falls from her mouth is only inevitable.

“What? Is it the face? I know the face is a little different, scary even, but that’s what happens when you blow up a portal” Catra winces at the mention of the portal. She really isn't doing herself any favors, so much for getting on the blonde's good side. 

Adora’s eyes lock on Catra’s. Her mouth gapes like a razor fin fish. 

“Ca-” She stutters, her cuffed hands raising a little as if to touch Catra but they never get close enough. 

“Did I get a little pudgy? No more active duty means no more exercise I guess. Never really thought about it.” Catra takes her eyes off Adora for the first time to look down at herself. That was a mistake. 

Adora grabs her shoulder, her hand is firm, warm and comforting for the few seconds it's allowed to rest there. “You real” her voice cracks, tears fill her eyes and threaten to fall. 

Catra’s eyes jerk up to Adora’s teary ones, “I wouldn't do that” she whispers.

Then Adora is on the floor, cheek pressed into the cold metal and held down by two strong knees. Adora groans pitifully, her eyes squeezed shut in pain. The tears falling to the hard floor with quiet thunks.

“Get off of her” Catra demands, “let her up.” She shoves the guard on the shoulder but tries to stay light hearted. the painful groan coming from the blonde concerns her. Adora isn't one known for showing weakness.. “She isn't any harm”

The guard stands from Adora’s back, taking a respectful step from the blonde and bowing her head a little at Catra. Catra ignores her and bends down. One hand propping herself up with her cane and the other gripping Adora’s shoulder to heave her up. 

Adora struggles to her feet. It takes more energy for her then Catra would have thought, her hands trembling in her chains. The manacles make it difficult for Adora to push herself off the ground. 

The blonde is exhausted, mentally and physically. It has to be taking a toll on her Catra can’t see. That’s why she’s reacting to see Catra with such odd disbelief. 

“As much as they are willing to beat the shit out of me if I try to escape, they are even more willing to kill you if you try to kill me.” Catra depanns, injecting as much light hearted inflection into her voice as she can,  brushing dirt off Adora’s stomach, her face heating when she feels hard muscles there .

“You’re really here” Adora murmurs, her eyes locked onto Catra’s face, her hands scrambling with the ones Catra just pulled away from her stomach. Catra jolts at Adora’s frim touch, quickly yanking her hand away and clearing her throat.  

“Ok seriously what is with this shock.” Catra throws a hand into the air and spins on her heel and starts down the hallways. “I was expecting a little outrage maybe some insults definitely but-”

“You're alive” Adora interrupts her and stumbles after her like a lost duckling. Her chains clink together. Catra listens to the guards following at a respectful distance. 

Catra hesitates at Adora’s shocked tone. “Sure I am. Was that up for debate?” her voice cracks because of course that was up for debate, considering what happened to her. 

“You got blown up!

“I've been blown up a bunch of times! I'm insulted that you think so lowly of me, Adora. Come on! Being blown up is like a Tuesday afternoon. It's Wednesday now, move on.” Catra slips her shades down over her eyes and limps down the hallway at a slightly quicker pace. She’s had a trying day, a woman on the edge. 

“Shadow Weaver saw you die, Catra. Scorpia said you were half alive and dying when-” Adora whispers frantically

Scorpia. She’s alive then. Last Catra had seen the big woman was nothing but a ghostly face with an angry robot barking at her heels. It's a relief as much as it prickles the corner of Catra’s eyes. Her and Entrapta's great escape wasn’t perfect but it was manageable. 

Catra finds herself drifting from the conversation. The inner workings of her own mind keep her from fully engaging with Adora. This isn't good. If she keeps going like this she might break down like a child. 

Catra blocks Scorpia from her mind and gives Adora her signature smirk. 

“Shadow Weaver is about as observant as a brick wall” Catra scoffs,  “she’s never been able to tell a dead body apart from an alive one in her life. I was alive long enough to see you all escape down the hallway like a bunch of wimps. I mean you had Hordak on the fence! that was your chance to take him out and send the Horde into a power vacuum-”

“Catra”

The tone of Adora’s voice has Catra slowing down her pace to look at her. Adora’s face is pale, her eyes open in an almost frightened expression. 

“I am so sorry I left you there. I left you there after you saved us-”

Catra laughs loudly, drowning out Adora with her hysterics. The feline quickly glance up and down the empty hallway before hurrying along to reach the safety of her sanctum. 

That is not what Catra was expecting. Adora’s statement has her nearly stumbling in her step, her cane being the thing to catch her. Catra might be choking on her own spit and has to cough into her elbow. 

Catra wants to laugh. Here she is, getting the one thing she had wanted for nearly a decade, and it's basically worthless to her. She had forgiven Adora for that a long time ago. They were children, Adora was just getting out when she could. 

“I'm so sorry I left you” she had said. 

The one thing Catra has always wanted to hear from Adora. Told to her so freely, like it didn't cost Adora anything. Nothing but the tears gathering at the corners of the blonde’s eyes that is. 

It doesn't bring Catra the relief, the joy she had once thought it would. It just stabs her in the place where her heart used to be. 

She can't handle this. Not now. She just needs to get home. 

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Catra responds, ignoring Adora completely. A grin finds its way onto her face as her room comes into view. Waiting for her there is the one girl Catra always wants to see. 

“Catra wait-” 

“Adora” Catra grinds out between her teeth. “I think it's best to wait to talk until we are away from our present company.” Catra’s ears twitch in the direction of the guards in a way Adora should understand

She used to understand at least. Catra’s nonverbal cues used to come like second nature to her. It seems they still do because Adora shuts her trap, instead she focuses on Catra like the feline is a ghost. 

Catra does her best to ignore it, instead focusing on the cub behind the door at the end of the hall. 

Catra hesitates, her hand resting on the doorknob. She breathes in and smells blood, smoke and a scent that is unmistakably Adora. Cubsy is going to need a little more prompting then that to warm up to the blonde. 

Catra spins on her heel with a grin. Trying her darndest to ignore the Guards stare. 

“Come here” she nearly whispers, she has to do this before she runs out of conviction. Cubsy would never want the blonde around if she doesn't. she takes a shocked and stilled Adora by the back of her neck.

“Oh” the blonde mumbles, her eyes widening a little at the feline's sudden proximity. She inhales and grins, basking in Catra’s touch but confused. 

Catra only hesitates a little, her face centimeters from Adora’s, before pulling the blonde down and rubbing their cheekbones together. 

“ Oh ” Catra can feel Adora’s face heat up through her peach fur. Even when she switches sides on Adora’s face and gives the blonde's neck a good rub down. She takes a step back and straightens her askew cape on Adora’s shoulders, latching its clasp and giving it a tug. 

“Ok, no sudden movements. No yelling.”

Who?-”

“Your gonna love her,”

ChaosGremlinLovesGays let me know that this art is from @prncxprone on Twitter. they warn that "Their account is NSFW and idk if they have a SFW one. Stay safe y’all 💙"

Chapter Text

Year of the portal- immediately after

Catra gasps for breath. Her vision split between the all too real reality and her deliciously terrible dream. 

An alternate universe, Adora had called it. The wants and dreams that came true in the portal. False ones. She realizes that now. She knows what Shadow Weaver meant when she said she was nothing but an animal. She’s been masquerading with a human face, human emotions. But she’s nothing but a mongrel.

She knows now. She wished she had figured it out sooner. 

Her “perfect” reality changes, warps. No fright zone, no Shadow Weaver. Trees, tall and smooshed together like sardines in a can. They're beautiful, impossibly tall and covered in coarse bark. Prime for climbing. 

Catra’s wonders what they smell like. If only she could breathe. 

Her lungs are filled with liquid. She can tell because with every exhale blood fills her throat and leaks from her mouth in two thick streams. 

She wonders if this is what her life would have been like if all those years ago she had left. Before Adora found the sword, Before Shadow Weaver promoted her to Force Captain. She had wanted to take Adora with her then, drag the blonde out of the fright zone and teach her how to be a wild animal. 

Adora likes order too much. She was the human one after all. Catra was just the pet trailing after her, wishing for a little disorder. 

In the end, Catra had liked Adora too much. Being in the woods without her blonde idiot would be worse than staying in the Horde with her. 

Catra chose the lesser of the two pains. She had wondered why she had NEEDED Adora so much. Why it was so impossible to rip herself away from Adora’s caring hand. 

Now she only wonders why Adora never needed her at all. Why she had looked at Catra’s singed and bleeding body, the evidence of Shadow Weavers abuse, and had told Catra the Horde was GOOD. she had even asked her why she would leave the cause bringing this world so much joy, 

A bloody, wet chuckle leaves Catra’s mouth without her consent. It bubbles the liquid in her mouth and sends it leaking over the edges of her lips. 

She thinks some parts of her were left in the portal, or she’s starting to. Her whole body was supposed to be left behind. Dead and finally, blissfully peaceful. But no, fate dragged her through by the skin of her teeth, not caring if some of her got separated and abandoned. 

She’ll die now though, finally. The thought makes her smile. The pain will be worth it. If only there was some sunlight to warm her bruised fur. She could close her eyes and let the warmth seep into her eyelids. 

“You worthless animal”’ Hordaks gravely voice breaks Catras concentration of breathing around her drowning lungs. He seems to agree with Shadow Weaver’s, and now Catra’s perception of her own mental capacity. “After everything I did for you, everything I made you into-”

He’s gone catatonic. Shadow Weaver was always the one to be cruel, Hordak only ever cared about his experiments. Now though, Catra sees a gleam in his eye that’s usually reserved for her former mentor.

He’s hunched forward, bleeding and bruised from his recent fight with the mighty She-ra. Catra could only watch in her crumpled state. Any motion to move was met with agony, and a gurgle of more blood rushed its way to her chest. 

Hordak breathes similarly to Catra. gurgles that splatter his lips with blood. His mechanical arms spark and spit across the cement, dancing into puddles of spilled green liquid. 

The portal had closed in a flash of light and the ripping of flesh. Catra may have nine lives but none of them can bring back bone and muscles ripped from her by a portal. The sword had bucked her off like a rabid bull-monkey and shot to Adora’s hand. 

Hordak prowls nearer, dragging tubes with him. He crouches next to one of his empty glowing pods of murky green water, ripping wires from its and sending more sparks scattering across the ground. 

Catra isn’t paying much attention to his growled monologue. She’s really hoping she’ll die soon, her lungs are no longer filling with the tiny sips of air she has been living off of for the last hour. Now they’re bursting with the iron liquid that used to pump through her veins. 

She’s drowning, she doesn't even need water to do it. Catra never thought she’d be happy to drown. 

Hordak laughs. Catra has never heard him do that. It distracts her fully from her impending death. Her eyes, that were fluttering back and forth on the ceiling looking desperately for a glimpse of sun, draw to his gleaming red eyes. 

His cruel smile widens, splitting his face wider than a gash. Unnatural and not meant to be there. Someone should really sew it up.

Catra was hoping she’d die in a beam of sunlight, real sunlight. Not in the gaze of this man. A man who had sent her to die in a wasteland not a week before. Sunlight is what she had hoped for since she was a kit. Even just a second of it to send her off to the next life. 

When Adora was blasting apart the Portal she had hoped it would shoot a hole into the impenetrable metal of Hordaks sanctum. maybe then it would just feel like a nap, her death that is, but there are no windows in Hordaks sanctum. No evidence that the outside world exists. 

No matter, it’s just her luck she’d die in Hordaks presence, with him leering over her crippled body with a snarl.

“You think I’m going to allow you to die?” It seems Hordak was reading her mind. “After the stunt you just pulled? After stealing my one chance of being reunited with my brother?” He cackles, his laugh is painful, sharp barbs and red hot iron. It's not something one would want to hear willingly. 

Catra hasn't felt anything since the portal not only didn't work, but then ripped her body apart with its scorching fingers. Catra is starting to think the primal area of her brain that felt fear was left abandoned in the portal with the rest of her missing parts. 

She knows the part of her that feels regret was never real though, it's why she ignores it. Why she ignored it when she watched She-ra and the rest of the sparkle squad drag their damaged bodies from Hordak’s sanctum. 

Why she only snarled in pain when she saw what was left of the Queen being hauled onto Glimmer's shoulder and bussed from the room. A shriveled, dead body dragged from Hordaks sanctum. 

It's her own fault, the queen’s, for standing so close to the portal. Catra didn't know the woman would be ripped to shreds like Catra had been. 

Hordal grabs Catra by her singed hair and yanks her up. Her disintegrating leg flails limply as the rest of her thrashes. The movement sloshes the liquid in her lungs and if she could Catra would be screaming. 

“No, no, no” Hordak drags Catra towards his glass tubs of clones. Catra can do nothing but watch as the failed experiments' lifeless eyes follow her and dig her nails into the man's forearm. The clones' mouths split into smiles that match Hordak’s, Catra can almost hear them laughing at her, mocking her.

“You're going to live, oh, you're going to live until Horde Prime knows what you did. I WILL NOT FALL VICTIM TO YOUR MISTAKES” 

Catra is heaved over Hordaks shoulder, blood flowing freely from her mouth like a waterfall. Or a broken faucet. What is still in there after, sloshes like she’s drunk too much water. 

His footsteps clang around the sanctum as he walks up the metal steps to a pod. A hulking tube. This container of green liquid is empty and boiling. It steams like a radiator and hisses like a scared cat. Catra hopes it kills her, but she knows it won’t. 

She doesn't know how but Hordak is trying to make Catra into one of his failed clones. A new experiment to test his theories on. 

He heaves her over the side of the container, carelessly. Like being thrown in a lake of cold water but instead of ice Catra starts to burn. Hotter than fire, hotter than a tank engine. Catra tries to take a breath of air, gasping for something to soothe her pain; it only succeeds in squeezing her blood soaked lungs and letting it pour out of her mouth. 

She splashes into the boiling liquid and gargles. It’s all she can do in place of that stolen scream. The liquid is slimy and thick and hurts far more than the blood drowning her. The liquid in her lungs mixes with the burning liquid and turns the green solution around her a dirty brown. 

She thrashes as best she can. Which isn't much. She doesn't know what she’s trying to do. She just knows that the pain needs an outlet, she wants to bite, to slash, to scream. She wants to drag herself from the pod and fall ten feet to the floor. Break her bones and smash her neck to pieces, at least then death will come quick 

She's been boiled down to her base instincts and then some. She’s the monster under the bed but she can't come out at night. She’s a predator that can't pounce when the time is right. 

A sickly green hand reaches into the container and grabs Catra’s face, hard. Her jaw cracks from the pressure as she’s lifted out of the water just enough to see Hordaks gleaming eyes. The strength is fading from her body but her hands find purchase on the lip of the pod. 

He brings her face close to his, “You will face consequences for your disloyalty, I'll make sure of it” 

He shoves a tube down her throat without pretense. Catra's previously limp arms reach out and tear into the skin of the hand holding her jaw open. The tube rips her throat to shreds and causes blood to forgo her lungs and leak into her stomach. “And I am, oh so excited to watch”

Catra thrashes wildly as she’s shoved back into the liquid. Her hands slip from the lip of the pod, leaving bloody streaks momentarily on the inside of the glass before the liquid she floats in burns it away.

Her weak grip lets the hand holding her down yank back out of the water and before she can reach for the lip of the container and pull herself up, a lid is slammed down on her head. Her hands go to the tube securely obstructing her airway, and tries desperately to pull the object out. 

It's stuck, piercing her lungs and glued to her throat. She thrashes and kicks in panic and then screams.

Her lungs are involuntarily inflated with air like a balloon. The organ presses up against her ribcage like it is begging to pop out. It wants to break her bones and burst through her skin. Her lungs were already filled to the brim with viscous blood but now they’ve been stretched far past their capacity. 

Blood tears holes in her lungs and leaks into every available cavity in her. She fears it will seep from her skin and eyes like condensation on a glass. 

If she could, tears would be streaming down her face, but the green liquid that fills the container burns her eyes and tear ducts, keeping anything from escaping. Catra bangs on her chest and begs for release. 

Then, Catra’s lungs are then vacuum sealed and she suddenly misses the feeling of lungs that are too full. The blood, the green liquid and the air that was filling them is suddenly sucked out like an air lock. Catra watches it leave through the tube like a trash shoot. Catra feels as if her lungs will flip inside out and be sucked from her mouth. They’ll hang out then like intestines, far too large to be stuffed back in. 

Catra has never known pain like this, electricity and punishment is a second skin to her but this stolen autonomy makes her wish she had never been born in the first place. 

The next inflate isnt nearly as bad, not without all the blood that had been filling her lungs. The loss of autonomy is what hurts the most.

It goes on like that for what feels like hours, but Catra has no way of knowing for sure. She vaguely watches Hordak stumble around his sanctum, collapsing against walls and tables as if he can't keep himself standing alone. 

--------)0(--------

Present time 

Catra opens the door to a room covered in a mess of files. Adora nearly stumbles into her back when she freezes in the doorway. she really should have expected this. 

Catra has tried to set up Entrapta’s old sun laps to give the kit a little bit of warmth and vitamin D but she loves nothing more than climbing to the tallest spire in the Fright Zone where it breaks the smog line and the sun can be seen. She loves curling up with Catra where the sun hits just right and sleeping the day away. Artificial light is no match for the real thing. 

The fright zone isn't the best place for a magicat to live. There's no greenery or plants, the only animals are gutter rats and feral bats. The sun never shines down here. But, Cubsy is beyond entertained all the same.

She just tends to feel a little cooped up when locked away in Catra's office all day.

Today, She has somehow gotten into Catra’s cabinets, spreading them throughout the floor as she played. Important work spread out across the room like drawing paper. 

“Cubsy?'' Catra asks, slightly concerned the cub may have gotten stuck in the piles of documents. Catra knows from experience that is not a fun way to go. Drowning in work. 

“Ok? I see your sense of decorum has deteriorated. ” Aora mumbles, wincing as she follows the feline into the room. ”you weren't this bad as a cadet. Sure you left a book here or there but this is... What happened?" 

“Brrrt?” a small voice trills. Catra turns back to her destroyed file cabinet. The locks have been picked and are hanging limply from the handles. The top drawer, bursting with pillows and blankets, is relatively untouched. 

Cub is curled cutely inside. That little devil. Her tail is wrapped around her body and covering most of her face. She’s trembling, her eyes just barely shining through her fur to look at Catra. Scared that Catra will be angry and trying to appeal to her maternal side. 

Catra forgets that Cubsy isn't a normal kit, that the cub is loved, even though Catra hadn't thought herself capable of it. No cub should be left alone. The Horde isn't a place for a baby, and Catra is no excuse for a caretaker. 

Cusby isn’t a cadet but a child. Catra has to stop acting like a Force Captain.

Adora’s eyes are focused on the tarnished room. The guards have already closed and locked the door so there's no where for her to escape. 

Catra picks the cute cub up with a sigh, cradling the cub to her shoulder and rubbing a bit of Adora’s scent on her quickly, before the cub could even notice. Cubsy takes this as a sign that Catra isn't too angry, still she returns Catra’s head butts with enthusiastic ones of her own. 

Catra turns to grin at the back of Adora’s head before freezing. The blonde is staring, flabbergasted at Catra’s old and now wrinkled battle plans. Catra has the nerve to be embarrassed. The room was spotless to begin with but Cubsy did a number on it. 

“You-” Adora picks the wrinkled paper up, seemingly unbothered when it tears in two. “It was you, the whole time” she scrambles for more pages, more lines of blobbed black ink. 

“The battle on plumeria, the battle on the ice kingdom, on drill! It was you the whole time!” she shakes the pages, her voice gone quiet and angry. “I was looking for you, I knew you were dead but I looked in every battle, every supply raid. You were there the whole time! Behind the scenes, pulling fucking strings!”

“I didn't have much of a choice” Catra admits before she can think of a snarky reply. taking a step away and watching as Adora finds more evidence of Catra’s treason. Battle strategies used and unused. Her entire arsenal of bad deeds layed out before Adora like a fucked up naughty list. 

“Didn’t have much of a choice?” Adora whispers, her shoulders drops and he finally looks up at the room. maybe the cell the room represents. She spins in a circle, her eyes focusing on the mess Cubsy has made first before eyeing the details. 

Catra can't help but try to see the space through Adora’s eyes. 

A small room in the back of the Fright Zone that's cramped and stuffy. A bed sits in one corner, a kitchen in the other with a half wall separating them. A bathroom is set into the far wall along with a small room filled with a screen, a command board and a chair. The rest of the available wall space is filled with cabinets, papers and maps. 

Then the books. There has to be thousands. Every available surface not covered in child-like drawings and files is stacked with books. Old dusty ones sit next to brand new leather bound ones. Catra is a hoarder if Adora has ever seen one. 

There's no windows, no lights except for four large bulbs strapped to the ceiling and letting off a yellow beam warm enough to mimic the sun. it's dull though, the light. The room is dimmer than anywhere in all the Fright Zone.

“There’s no windows” Adora voices, her hands falling limply in front of her. As best they can be when they’re shackled together. The wet paper falls from her grip.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Catra asks defensively. Adora turns around her mouth open to either defend herself or debate Catra for not keeping a clean room or ream her for the part she played signing Etheria’s death notice. Her face drops when she sees the cub in Catra’s arms. Her mouth follows suit by plopping open. 

Cubsy chirps happily and climbs up Catra’s body, resting in the crook of one arm and allowing the feline to lean on her cane and hold the cub at the same time. Adora’s eyes have gone wide with shock. 

“Catra?” she whispers, watching as Cubsy squints an eye open at the new voice and sniffs the air. The baby tenses once she realizes her and Catra aren't alone. “How?”

Adora’s face has gone white as snow, Catra moves towards her to catch her in case she passes out but Adora takes a stumbling step back, her boots slipping on sheets of paper.  

“She gets nervous around new people,” Catra winces behind her shades. She doesn't have much more to say in her defense.  Adora doesn’t respond, if she was shell shocked before she’s cracking now. The pieces holding Adora together are falling apart and it seems to be all Catra’s fault. 

“I know this might be a lot to take in,” Catra tries but Adora cuts her off with a laugh without humor, her hands flying to cover her face as she collapses into Catra’s swivel chair. 

“A- lot to take- in?” Adora squeaks out between breath stealing laughs, she throws her hands in the air. “Five years Catra! That's how long you were dead! Five years and I still looked for you in every turn. Now here you are and you have a baby?”

“She’s basically a toddler”

Adora just stares, her mouth gaping open. 

“Its an important distinction”

“It doesn't make it any better!” Adora leans back in the swivel chair, “it makes it worse actually! You have a toddler!”

“Well, I only got her recently so..” Catra watches as the tears that had gathered in Adora's eyes when she first saw Catra start to fall. Catra sighs and lifts her shades to rest against her hairline. 

“Oh.. Adora. Don't cry” Catra has never been good at this comforting thing but she tries her best. She hides her groan as she kneels between Adora’s legs, slipping into her space, wrapping an arm around the big lug. 

The touch is surprisingly accepted, Adora must be far too exhausted to protest. she wraps her own arms around Catra's shoulders, breathing in her scent and pressing her forehead against Catra's neck. 

Cubsy, in turn, seems to be too shocked by Adora’s display of emotion to be afraid of her. She does her best to stay out of the way while still patting Adora’s comfortingly on the shoulder with one small hand. 

Both feline’s acts seem to break Adora more, she sobs, leaning her head against Catra’s chest and reaching a hand out to touch Cubsy’s. The baby smiles reassuringly, continuing to pat at Adora like she’s a dog. 

“It's so cute” Adora cries quietly, Catra laughs lightly and rubs Adora’s back in circles. “She tends to have that effect on people.” 

Adora slides a hand gently down the cub's head, nearly crying harder at the soft baby fur. Catra rolls her eyes and shifts to brace herself more securely against the table. 

“Come on” she murmurs, Barely able stopping Cubsy from curling into Adora’s arms, holding her tighter in her own and helping Adora stand from the chair. 

“Go sit in the bathroom while I clean this up, alright? You smell like shit” Adora looks down at her shirt and frowns, 

“It's not that bad”

“You're covered in manure and blood, Adora, it's that bad. Bathroom” Catra points at the room with her cane. “Strip too, we’re burning those clothes.”

--------)0(--------

Adora has been having one hell of a day. A day she honestly didn't think she would see the end of. Yet here she is, still alive. 

Alive and sitting on Catra’s closed toilet seat, ass naked. She doesn’t know how to turn on Catra’s shower and she doesn’t think she has the energy to try.  She instead listens to the crippled woman stumble around her room, no doubt scolding the little bundle of ratty fur about the mess. 

A baby, or a toddler based on how you look at it. Catra has come back from the dead once again, this time dragging around an adorable fluff ball. Adora should have expected it really, Catra has nine lives and seems unconcerned about wasting them. 

It would be just her style to give one up to create life like it was nothing. 

She has seen Catra. She is seeing catra. And neither of them are dead. Its an outcome she honestly never, never, saw coming

Neither of them are dead and there is an adorable baby. Adora can’t think farther than that. She takes a breath, filling her lungs with the stale air for a second, before letting it out. 

“Alright, these aren't your size but they’ll fit, “ Catra wander’s into the room, her hands fumbling with a bundle of clothing, her little minnie me trailing behind her like a lost duckling. 

She looks up at Adora’s lack of response, her eyes widening at Adora’s hunched form. Her shackles kept her from fully taking off her shirt, leaving it bunched around her wrists. Her arms wrest heavily between her legs, blocking her nether regions from Catra’s view. 

The feline sighs, placing the clothing next to the sink before hobbling to the tub. She turns the shower on, warm not hot and closes the curtain before turning back to the hunched woman. 

“Squad shower rules” Adora says with a smile, “if you don't look at my scars I won't look at yours”

Catra laughs, her claws fiddling with Adora’s shackles, sinking into the keyholes and clicking around until they finally drop to the floor. 

“Ok, close your damn eyes then, I can see you looking,” Catra grins, looking up to see Adora’s eyes firmly planted on her face. Catra raises an eyebrow, the one cut through and choppy. 

Adora rolls her eyes but doesn't look away, rubbing the welts on her newly free wrists. “Facial scars don't count and you know it.”

Catra plants her feet and helps Adora stand from the toilet. Neither of them mention how Adora’s legs shake or how Catra's leg brace squeals. She can't tell if it's from exhaustion or if Hordak had dosed her with something. 

Cubsy watches from where she slinks around next to the wall, Adora should feel self conscious but she’s had enough showers with Catra as a kid that she can't bring herself to be. 

“Watch the step”, Catra murmurs, directing Adora’s hands to the pipes screwed into the side of the bathroom, no doubt for Catra’s own support. From the looks of her leg, Catra won't be walking without at least a little help for the rest of her life. 

Adora feels Catra’s hands leave her as she steps into the hot spray of the shower, her bones loosening in their joints. A hot shower, the idea is almost unfathomable after years in the field. The feeling is indescribable. 

She stands underneath the spray for lord knows how long before she feels another body step into the tub. Catra places a hand on Adora’s side, her fingers avoiding the many bruises littering Adora expertly.

Catra leans heavily on her good leg, one hand gripping the metal tubing on the wall to keep her steady. The feeling of another body next to her in the shower is a feeling she hadn't thought she missed from the horde. Having a shower all to herself was a blessing when she first got to Brightmoon, but the feeling of Catra slapping cold soap onto her back makes her want to cry. 

She scrubs Adora down without saying anything, the blond watches the blood, mud, and gunpowder swirl down the steel drain and into the inner workings of the Frightzone. 

Adora had sworn to never bleed for the Horde again. That she wouldn't step foot in this place and give up another piece of her if it killed her .

Here she is. It doesn't feel as terrible as she thought it would, not with Catra’s hands in her hair, scrubbing bullet shells and smog from her scalp. 

Eventually the feline plugs up the drain and turns off the shower. The faucet for the tub turns on and Catra makes her sit in the slowly rising water. 

She opens the curtain and steps out of the bath as Adora settles down, The feline's fur dripping heavily onto the ratty bath mat. A towel isn't going to do much for her but Adora can't bring herself to feel bad about getting her wet. 

Catra leaves Adora there to turn off the water when she deems fit, the blonde is grateful, even after years out of the Horde she still doesn't like crying with others watching. Her shoulders shake in the warm water without her permission, sending ripples through to the edges of the tub. The warm water laps up her back and soothes her tense muscles. 

She’s quickly wiping the tears from her face when she hears the tip tapping of small claws on linoleum. Catra’s cub is sticking her head around the edge of the open door, curiously watching Adora. 

Adora watches the thing slink over quietly, keeping one side touching the wall she rounds on Adora and the bath. 

“Hello” Adora croaks, raising a few fingers from the water. 

It twitches her ears at the blonde. She hesitates at the edge of the tub, sitting on her haunches like an actual cat. Adora had forgotten about the days Catra had been so little. Her feline instincts are so prominent at such a young age. Catra hadn't been allowed to keep them for too long. 

The thing has a pacifier in her mouth now, it's fucking adorable. Adora just wants to pick the thing up and cuddle it to death. 

She raises on her back legs to look into the water, raising one arm around the lip of the tub and touching the rippling surface. Her little chubby fingers dance in the water curiously for just a second before she’s yanking her arm back and shaking it furiously. Adora laughs. 

She catches the pacifier from where it dropped from the things mouth in her frantic shaking and gently slots it back in. 

Catra comes back in relaxed clothing, a towel around her shoulders to catch her still dripping hair. She pulls the cub into her lap along with the first aid kit, pulling out the stitches and sets to work cleaning up the worst of Adora’s wounds. 

The thing snuggles into Catra’s scared arms and rubs her cheek into the older feline’s stomach. It happily curls itself into a ball, a slight purr reverberating through it at Catra’s warmth. . 

Catra smiles down at the cub, the tear in her lip stretching and the cub herself stretches. Little eyes blinking open to laser target Adora. 

The blonde's body freezes under the child's smart stare. Human. Catra has a little person following her around. Catra is taking care of said little person. Teaching her the ways of a cadet. 

“You're a mom now” Adora wonders who spoke until she realizes it was herself. 

“More like a designated guardian.” Cata says, taking Adora’s arm and manipulating it until its at the right angle for a few stitches. Adora hadnt realized her cuts were bad enough to warrant medical attention. Catra obviously thought so, if the gauze overflowing the first aid box is anything to go by.  

“Her name is cubsy”

“Creative” Adora chuckles, nudging the feline with her arm and messing up her concentration. 

Catra’s tail whips behind and the blonde smiles for real for the first time in nearly five years. 

Cubsy reacts and the blonde's gleeful expression, mirrors it with a gummy grin. The cub is young enough that she doesn't even have her baby canines yet. 

“She’s so”

“Cute?” Catra asks, wrapping up Adora’s arm with white gauze. Cubsy watches with rapt attention. 

“Where did she come from?” Adora asks, lightly letting her finger tips touch Cubsy’s fragile head. The little animal purr’s and butts up against her appendages. It brings a smile out of Adora’s face. 

Catra leans back on her palms, stretching out the leg covered in a metal brace. The hinges squeal with movement, sounding like an unoiled skiff. 

Catra obviously hasn't been cared for. maybe hasn't even seen a medic.  For someone so high ranking in the Horde and so necessary for their victory, Catra seems to be treated as an afterthought. 

Her office/ room is small and cramped. Her body is on the verge of breaking down. They are running her like any other replaceable cadet. Though it is obvious she's respected. 

The Horde soldiers guarding her, look at Catra with such awe and wonder. Every soldier they passed lowered their head in respect, rushed to open doors for the feline and hurried out of her way in the halls. Catra didn't even seem to notice their existence. 

Catra coughs, and Cubsy struggles out of her grasp to run across the bathroom and thumping cute little noises on her way. Adora slips her arm into Catra’s lap, letting the feline take the heavy weight of her bones.

“You know how it is,” Catra admits, her own eyes following the kit out of the bathroom. Adora realizes that the shades that had been attached to the feline like a security blanket are gone. 

"Any child left behind is a Horde child.”

“Not anymore” Adora says, pulling her arm back into the warmth of the water and soaking her new bandages. it somehow isn't as warm as Catra’s lap. 

“No, not anymore” Catra eyes the blonde with an indescribable expression. “How would you know about that?” she asks, 

It takes Adora a minute to be able to answer, her scrambled exhausted brain digging for information she was given hours before but what felt like another lifetime. “I saw them,” she says finally. “We thought they were a distraction, a train full of children pulling away from the FrightZone during the biggest battle in the last five years? It had to be a trick. Glimmer-”

Catra’s eyebrows raise at the name. “She thought the Horde would explode the train, kill the children in front of us or force us to choose between Silaneas and the distraction.”

“What did she choose?”

‘What?”

“She thought she had to choose between the largest city state on Etheria and a cargo load of enemy children. What did she choose?” 

“I-” Adora can't remember, the portion of her memory is blank. It had happened before the… something big happened, it knocked Adora out for, well she doesn't know how long. 

“I don’t know” Catra watches her, watches the frustrated tick in Adora's eye, the way her hands clench beneath the water. 

“Well, the children are alive”

Adora looks up, watching Catra position herself to lean against the tub, showing her scared neck to Adora. 

It doesn't feel like it did when Hordak turned his back on Adora. This isn't a disrespect, a taunt. Catra’s showing a vote of trust. 

The feline must be desperate if she’s trusting one of the leaders of the rebellion. Now, Catra is just a girl fallen far from her pedestal of second command and into the lap of the Horde’s greatest enemy. 

Though nothing about them is orthodox, Adora doesn't hold it against her, instead she lifts a hand to her neck and sinks it into her hair, scratching her nails into the base of Catra’s head. 

The feline tilts her head back, eyes closed. Adora smiles at the purr it pulls from her. 

“They have been moved to new homes” Catra turns her head to Adora, hair nearly touching the baths water. “The cadet program has been officially removed as of three days ago. There's not a single child in the fright zone.”

Catra hesitates and Adora raises an eyebrow. The feline sits up and looks away. “Except for Cubsy of course. 

The little feline takes that moment to make her dramatic return. Clutched in her clawed hands is a tattered brown teddy bear. Adora raises an eyebrow at Catra. The feline eyes her, embarrassed. 

“That's all I could find alright” she whispers, smiling when Cubsy drags it into her lap. There are a series of bandages wrapped around the bear arm. Cubsy smiles around her pacifier and holds the arm up.

Adora glances from the bear to her own arm. 

“That's right cubsy” Catra says, soothingly. A tone Adora hadn't heard in nearly a decade. “Good as new”

The cub trills happily.

--------)0(--------

Present time

Catra’s bed is so hard it's nearly uncomfortable. But as someone who has slept on the floor in harshly constructed tents for the better half of a decade, Adora considers it luxury. Worn, warm sheets cocoon so soothingly, Adora barely even notices the bandages wrapped around her arms. 

Adora can almost convince herself she’s imagining the woman curled up beside her. With her injured leg, she can't form into the ball of her childhood but Catra tries her best. Her bad leg sticking out beside her as the rest of her body cohorts around her sensitive abdomen. 

“You're real, right?” Adora asks, prompting Catra to stop her fidgeting into the perfect sphere and peek her head out of the covers. Adora almost here’s a small ‘brrt’. Adora takes Catra’s moment of surprise in stride, reaching out to gently touch the soft fur of her face, avoiding the scar marking her cheek. 

“Yes Adora, I'm real,” Catra thinks for a moment, her eyes flashing a reflection in the dark, “or as real as I can be at least.”

Adora doesn't ask for clarification, she knows what Catra means. When you're a child soldier, you don't survive by being real, you survive by being the perfect cadet. 

Both her and Adora understand and live by that rule. They wouldn't be here without it. Adora pulls her hand back, relishing in the feeling still lingering on her fingertips. 

“Are you real?” Catra asks, resting her scarred head against the pillow, giving Adora a good look at the puckered trench carving her face. 

Adora swallows and nods, “as much as I can be”

“Good” Catra whispers, her ear twitching at the sound of Cubsy rustling in her file cabinet. Adora refrains from rolling her eyes at Catra’s choice of baby crib. 

“How” Adora looks away from Catra’s piercing eyes, instead watching her own hand tuck against the feline's collar bone. She can feel Catra’s heartbeat thump rhythmically. “How are you alive?”

“Adora” Catra sighs, resting her hand on top of Adora’s as if to push her away. Adora tightens her grip, her lips tightening in a half snarl. “No, Catra. You were dead, they told me-” Adora chokes for a second but she refuses to cry anymore. 

“They told me what happened” she whispers, finally glancing up at Catra again, her eyes locking on Catra’s own. 

“Well, Catra glances down at her own body, “as you can tell I'm not completely alive, a life can only do so much.”

Adora doesn't follow her glance down to her mutilated limbs, her gaze locked secure on Catra’s eyes. 

“You're still here because…’ Adora trails off, her eyes lingering where Catra’s mask should sit. 

“Yes, “ Catra’s conviction is unwavering. “I would say my birthright is good for something at least,”

Adora leans forward and rests her forehead against the base of Catra’s neck, forehead pressing into her chest, the smaller woman reaches up and runs her had soothingly through blonde locks, 

“Catra I'm so sor-”

“Oh shut up” Catra says, patting Adora lightly on the head, “we both know you had nothing to do with my death,” Adora shakes but doesn’t let the tears fall. 

“Ooh that was a good line” Catra says, a smile sneaking up on her face. “You've probably been waiting to hear my voice say that since the portal huh?”

Adora shoves Catra’s shoulder, her exaggerated glare wavering in the face of Catra’s laughter “Stop making fun of my closure!” Adora whispers, laughing. She can't help it. It's ridiculous. 

She never thought she’d be in the same bed, laughing with Catra, ever again. It could be a dream. She could open her eyes right now and be in her shoddy tent surrounded by shadowed trees. 

The worst part? She wouldn't trade it if she could. She would rather be here, her impending death hanging over her head, hiding in the Fright Zone with Catra by her side then free in the woods. 

What a joke. 

--------)0(--------

Years of childhood.

Adora isn't the stealthies, Catra knows that. But she still can’t help but be frustrated at the blondes very loud sneaking 

“Adora if you don’t-”

“I'm trying!” Adora’s little voice whispers very loudly, Catra refrains from smacking her forehead with her hand. 

She instead tucks her claws beneath her armpits and waits on the catwalk, shielding the larger part of her body from the freezing wind. Catra is impatient to cuddle up with Adora on the spire, but she can't blame that on the cold. 

The pain in the back of her head radiates behind her ears, what she would have given for an extra long shower before curfew. Unluckily for her she got back from her punishment too late for any hot water. 

Adora had waited for her though, hunched before her locker, hiding a handful of ration bar crumbs. The Guard had pushed catra to the floor before the blonde. Gesturing to Adora to take her into the showers and clean her up into some form of semblance. 

“What happened” Adora had whispered, holding Catra’s pounding head in her lap and feeding her small bites of ration bar. 

Catra refused to say, instead pushing the ration away to barf up what little she had eaten beside them. Adora wrinkled her nose and said nothing, reaching to lift Catra’s hair out of the way. 

Adora forces her out of her bloody clothes and into the shower after that, a steady hand consistently on the feline's back, holding her up and scrubbing the blood from her tangled fur. Catra herself stays hunched, her arms wrapped around her sensitive middle. 

Adora stays gentle even when tears start to track down Catra’s cheeks, mixing with the stale Horde shower grade water. 

“You're ok,” Adora whispers, covering Catra’s thin wiry arms with her own muscled ones. Even at 14 Adora’s covered in muscle. Growing up with nothing but fighting stance for fun has taken a toll on her fat mass. 

Adora doesn't have any baby fat left after all the muscle. Catra doesn't have anything left after all the starving days. 

Two sides of the Horde spectrum. One who thrives under the conditions and one everyone expects to die any day. The thought makes her sob harder. makes her wonder why Adora, a girl respected in not only her squadron but the entire teenage faction of the cadet program, would bother with Catra.

The feline has shown time and time again that she is nothing but a hindrance. A rodent that doesn't even try. 

She does try though. If she was anyone else her work would be recognized. Her strides she takes in strategy. The way she weasels out of battles and slips away from sticky situations. 

“Can we go for lunch?” Catra asks, code words she hasn't used in days falling from her lips without her permission. Adora freezes but then slowly nods, hugging Catra tiger for just a second before letting her go. 

They dress quickly, Adora only having enough time to slap a white bandage around Catra’s head in the feline's impatience. 

“Hurry up dummy, we’re missing the best time of night to see the stars” Adora rolls her eyes but concedes, pulling her oversized jacket over her arms. 

“I'm not sharing my jacket with you when you get cold, alright?” Catra rolls her eyes and nods her head, unconcerned with the wind whipping through the Frightzone. 

“I'm really not!” Catra nods her head, hiding a smile by turning away, looking down the darkened hallway and listening for footsteps. 

She knows Adora will share her jacket. Adora knows Catra doesn't have one, and has never been given one. Why would a rodent who has fur need a jacket? 

Catra pulls Adora the last few jumps up the tower, her feet firmly planted at the spire's cold tip, her nails digging into the floor. “How are you so damn heavy” she grouches, yanking Adora the last few feat, 

It sends them tumbling to the ground, Adora’s warm body covering Catra’s own. “I actually eat the food I'm given, shocking right?” Adora groans, one hand planting near Catra’s rib cage to roll her off the feline. 

Catra elbows her in the gut with her pointed bones, pulling a grunt and a grin from the blonde's mouth. Adora levers herself up on top of Catra, digging her fingers into the Catra’s sides. 

Catra had seen it coming of course but she lets the blonde get in a few good hits, forcing a laugh out of Catra’s throat. Catra giggles, planting her feet on Adora’s middle and pushing the blonde off her. 

It’s gentle for a Horde cadet and Catra knows Adora can tell. The blonde smiles broadly, and Catra can't help but return in. They both know what they mean to the other. It's not hard to see, not hard to pick up on. 

They spend her day forcing her squad mates down, stepping over their exhausting bodies for better rations, more attention, more love. 

The gentleness they display with each other outside the training room isn't tolerated. Their codependent existence is looked down on, harshly. It weakens them. 

If Adora had beaten Catra down like she did everyone else she would be the best in her entire age squadron, she wouldn't be fighting for the scraps she has. She might even be given a better squad of peers. 

Catra yelps as Adora pushes her back a little too forcefully, her wounded head slamming back into the metal speer and sending shots of electricity through the feline's nervous system. Adora backs off quickly, careful not to jostle the feline further. 

Catra sits up slowly, feeling the back of her head and the blood that seeps through the bandage there. Adora bites her lip, an arm going around Catra’s shoulder to lean her up and try to staunch the blood flow.

Catra ends up leaning against the rickety handlebars of the tower, looking off at the low glow the whispering woods emit and the moon behind them. 

“Do you remember when I said that nothing bad could happen as long as we had each other?.” Adora asks from where she has tucked her head into Catra’s neck. Her arms wrapped around the feline’s midsection, her front stuck to Catra’s back. 

“Yeah?” Catra murmurs. She doesn't want to break the quiet. It's too peaceful up here for loud talking 

“ I don't know… if I think that's true anymore," Adora whispers. She must feel it too. The sanctity of what they have up here. Her voice is barely above a mutter. She eyes the badly sewn gash in the back of Catra’s head. 

“Me neither,” Catra agrees, She looks out onto the sunset Harder, avoiding Adora’s pitiful eyes. digging her face deeper into her crossed arms, 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Adora asks, 

Catra immediately thinks ‘no’. Adora doesn't need to know what happened. She doesn't need to know how weak Catra has been. 

The first to finish the simulation, she hadn't been shot once, not a single electric charge had managed to hit her. But she also had not managed to hit anyone else, sneaking through the rafter with her gun forgotten and slipped in the waistband of her pants. 

She grins feral and wide at Adora, the blonde gasping for breath and nursing a surface wound on her arm. She pretends to act outraged, accusing Catra of cheating but the wide smile on her face shows mirth.

She was proud, proud that Catra had put so much effort in. her hard work had paid off and Adora was impressed. 

Catra puffs up her chest and rests her hands on her hips, eyeing the tally bored in slowly draining pride as Rogelio, Lonnie and Kyle slowly get disqualified. 

Shadow Weaver won't be impressed, not with the outcome of this simulation. Only two of her cadets made it through, one of which without killing a single princess. 

Adora, unaware, lifts her hand for a high five and slaps her palm against Catra’s. The feline forces a smile, her eyes latched onto the scoreboard. Adora has twenty more points than her. She had killed three more people than her but had gotten through the finish line second. 

Catra thought she would be safe accounting for the rest of her squadron's scores, landing safely in the middle. Now, she’s just last. She watches the rest of their squad stumble into the simulation with forlorn faces. Their vests flashing red. 

Adora smiles brightly at them, hands on her hips. Catra refuses to look. 

She was right in the end. Shadow Weaver was not happy. Adora didn't need to know that. as the winner she was sent off to the mess hall for an early dinner. The rest of her squadmates held back. 

She eyes Catra worriedly as she leaves the simulation room, her blue eyes seeing right through Catra’s bravado. The feline is trembling, her tail flicking back and forth in a soothing rhythm. 

She seems to be the only one who knows what’s coming in the faith of Shadow Weavers wrath. She was the one held back the longest. 

One by one Adora watches Rolegio, Kyle and Lonnie file into the mess hall late for dinner. “Where is Catra?” Adora leans over Lonnie's meal and eyes the girls welting arms. 

How should I know,” Lonnie growls, swinging an arm around to protect her food from Adora. As if she'll take it once Lonnies back is turned. Adora instead leans away, pocketing her ration bar and digging her fork around in the rest of the muck on her plate. 

She only becomes more concerned when Catra never wanders her way into the cantine like usual. Her eyes narrowing as Shadow Weaver herself floats passed without Catra’s appearance. 

Adora manages to sneak the ration out of the mess, lifting out her pockets for the guard to see, palming the bar and herding along quickly with the rest of her squadron.

 She takes her time in the showers, digging around in her locker for much longer than necessary, de-clothing and re-doing her chest binding to take up time. 

She feels the steam slowly dissipate from the showers as the warm water is quickly used up, her fingers fiddling in worry when Catra still does not appear. Not even when the last cadet, shiny and clean, wanders out. 

She had just built up the courage to look for her when the bloodied cadet was shoved to her feat. “clean her up” the faceless guard refuses to look at Catra, he quickly leaves the locker room at the sight of Adora shirtless. 

“Catra’ Adora whispers, her hands quickly going to the wound on the back of catra’s head. She pulls the weak feline into her lap. Feeling helpless when she gets a weak whine in return. 

Adora breaths in the cold air at the top of the spire, leaning into Catra’s back and winding her arms around the feline tighter, keeping her warm. The smaller girl is shaking, neither her nor Adora mention it. 

“You don't want to know” is Catra’s only response to her question. 

--------)0(--------

Present time

Where are you going?” Adora asks, sitting up from the bed as Catra shuffles out from beneath the covers. 

Catra jerks, landing awkwardly on her knee and quietly stringing together a menagerie of courses at the pain that rockets up her leg.

“gods” Adora mumbles, reaching out to rub soothing circles in to Catra’s back. The feline scrubs aggressively at her leg to cancel out the pain. 

“Where are you going?”

“I have a meeting in a few hours” Catra mutters, affixing her brace to her leg and tightening it as it will go. Catra points to the clock and glances to Adora, “Cubsy will be up any minute waiting for food”

“It's like three in the morning?” Adora whispers, following Catra out of the bed and hovering around her like a mother hen, her hands posed to catch the feline if she falls. 

Catra, in her hunched state, glares at Adora, swiping at her arms and sending a harsh shove to her shoulder that has the Blonde reeling back into the bed. 

“Nocturnal circadian rhythm,” Ctara says, pulling a shirt over her chest wrappings and covering the lighting like scars that arc up her back. “Me and Cubsy like to go for walks in the morning,”

“Wow, this whole time I thought you were dead,” Adora deadpanned, stumbling from the bed and quickly pulling one of Catra’s shirts over her own head. What is comfortably loose on the feline stretches over Adora’s muscles like a second skin. They are nearly the same height and yet Catra is so much smaller than the blonde, “but instead you've been going on healthy morning walks with your kidnapping victim .

“It isn't kidnapping” Catra defends, sneering her teeth at Adora. “I’m taking care of her,”

“Yeah, taking care of her in the most dangerous place for a child in all of Etheria” Catra turns from the blonde, her face contorting painfully in an instinctual snarl. A natural defense that the magicat could never seem to shake. 

“You wouldn't get it” Catra growls, bending to tie her shoelaces with a non maskable groan, Adora stops her when she’s only bent half way down, forcing her to stand again before kneeling herself. 

Catra’s eyes widen as the blonde tightly and efficiently ties her boots. Long fingers handling the laces in ways Catra has never been able to do. 

“Since when do you wear boots” Adora asks, ignoring Catra’s pitiful defense for child endangerment. 

“Since when are you so cordial? the last time we spoke we were trying to kill each other-”

“ You were trying to kill me -”

“-Now you're playing happy little family?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Adora growls, standing up and shoving a finger in Catra’s chest.” I'm not letting you leave my sight!  I thought you were dead! Five years of mourning for a girl who was lounging around here with a silver spoon in her mouth destroying cities and kidnapping babies.”

“You're forgetting who is the prisoner here,” Catra growls, stepping into Adora’s space and sneering up at her,  “and sitting around?! I'll have you know-”

A confused “burtt?” cuts both of them off. Cubsy’s cute head poking above the filing cabinet drawer and sneering at them with just her tiredly squinting eyes. 

“She looks like Force Captain Megonigal,” Adora whispers, her eyes trained on the feline. 

“The strategies professor?” Catra asks, turning back to Adora, her facial muscles finally loosening. A confused grin replaces her snarl. 

“Yeah, look, she just needs a pair of spectacles.”

“And a thousand more wrinkles

“You're not getting the vision. 

“I'm really not, " Adora turns back to her and Catra realizes how close they are standing, she quickly takes a step back, a hand slapping against the dining table to steady her. 

“Well, I have a very important walk to get to so you should go back to-”

“What part of you is not leaving my sight dont you understand?”

You're not really in the position to make demands here, are you? prisoner”

“Prisoner my ass, you haven't treated me like a prisoner since you took that damn helmet off my head.”

“I'm a very giving person alright? I took compassion in your time of need”

“Cut the crap, what are you up to?” Adora glares at her suspiciously, “any other self respecting horde officer would have me chained up by my feet by now.”

“Any other horde officer would have killed you already” catra growls, swiping her cane from Adora’s grubby hands. “You're just lucky I've gone soft in my time out of the field. I need to build up the courage to be able to chop the head.”

Adora scoffs and rolls her eyes, bending to tie her own boots. “Yeah, sure, when you build up the courage to ‘chop the head’ let me know.” 

--------)0(--------

“Are you sure you should be walking this far?”

Catra eyes the guards following slightly behind them, tightening the cloth that keeps the cub strapped to her back. “The edges of the fright zone are heavily patrolled by squad skiffs, if you tried to run you would be gunned down on the spot. In spite of your belief you're the most important prisoner in the entire empire you are very much expendable.”

“I meant your leg, asshole, or is your mind crippled too?”

Catra stops and gives Adora a look that could only mean ‘what the hell? Why would you say that?’

Adora sighs and releases the tension in her arms. “Sorry, I might be a little on edge,”

“Might? You've been biting my head off all morning” Catra mumbles, feeding the baby poking her head over her shoulder another strip of jerky. The kit happily chews her morsel of meat, smiling up at Adora as they stumble past her. 

“Well I'm a little confused on the state of my imprisonment” Adora grits out, “so far the great Force Captain Catra has done nothing but bath, feed, and make me babysit a small child.’

“I really didn't want to have to tell you this Adora but your imprisonment is the fakest thing Hordak has ever done” Catra hisses, taking Adora’s arm and yanking her closer so she can hear her. 

“What?”

“He doesn't need you. Without the sword, in his eyes, your worthless” Adora reacts as if Catra has slapped her. Blinking rapidly in the face of her harsh words. It doesn't help that all Adora can see is her shades. 

“Then why am I here?! Why hasn't he killed me yet” Adora whisper-yells, throwing her hands in the air. Catra physically rolls her eyes, listening to the guards behind her falter in their step

“Because of me” Catra hisses, forcing Adora’s head forward and away from sight of their little entourage. 

“Are you telling me you saved me? As if-”

“I'm telling you that Hordak thinks you're worthless, he thinks you won't be able to offer me anything of value”  Catra stops just before the line of trees. “You're just a weapon to him, you couldn't possibly be one of the frilly princesses calling the shots.”

“But you don't think that”

“No, I don't. And Hordak doesn't need to know that. He thinks im trying to save your hide with a suicide mission and he likes to see me scramble.”

“Then what do you actually think?” Adora asks, pulling her arm away from Catra’s hold. 

“I think you're an ex horde soldier with a savior complex bigger than your forehead. I would be an idiot to assume you're not the main force driving the Rebellion’s attack effort. No matter how poorly you do it. “

You're going to use me to climb your way back to the top of the horde?” Adora asks, sneering, giving up on the act of staying quiet all together. 

Catra laughs “why would I do that? I've been at the top, Adora. There's nothing there.”

“Then what is your end goal?! Why the hell am I here?!”

“Do you always have to have a fucking purpose Adora!. I haven't seen my best friend in five years, is it really so unbelievable that I would want her around?”

“Oh thats real fucking funny” Adora looks down her nose at catra. “Where was this attitude when you were trying TO KILL ME ”

I probably left it in the same place you left me!” that cuts Adora off quicker than a slap. Her mouth clamps shut and the tension in her muscles drains. Catra can basically see her two guards make eye contact. This is the most exciting thing to happen to them in half a decade. 

“I didn't-”

A worried wine and a sift squirming on Catra’s back makes her anger fizzle out. 

“Oh darling," she murmurs, sliding the baby wrap around to her front, “I didn't mean to scare you.”

Cubsy rubs her head onto the underside of Catra’s chin, pitfully looking at Adora and then back at Catra. Catra herself glares at Adora, flipping her off before speeding up her stumbling walk. As much as she can with a bum leg, a child, and a cane. 

Catra herself seems to realize this too. she grimaces as she hobbles to a tree trunk and slides down to sit at its base. Adora watches her wince as she goes. Reaching out her arms as if she can help the feline. 

“Catra- How is it this bad? What did the doctors-”

“Yes, yes! , I've seen a healer.” Catra says. “But the ugly scars and the pain are here to stay,” Catra scrunches up her nose, turns and looks down it at Adora. “Do you have something to say about it?”

Adora shakes her head and sighs“I think you're beautiful for what it's worth.”

That's not what she had meant to say. Hearing Catra say ugly, like a princess mind her, had shocked her system. Horde Soldiers don't usually care about looks, not when they are just another faceless mask in the line up. 

Catra’s fur fluffs up, her ears lowering. 

“Your a pain in the ass” 

“And you're in pain” Adora hugs herself, her hands finding the cape that has been unofficial hers for the last 24 hours and hugging it around her shoulders. She was surprised to find that it smells like Catra. “If she-ra was still-”

“I for one am glad the bitch is gone” Catra says this without pity or remorse and it shocks Adora to the core. She whips her head to Catra and nearly glares at her. 

“How could you?” she shakes her head and nearly snarls “what am I saying? or course you would be. You've been trying to kill her since you met her. Still are! even thought the Horde blew you up ”

“I didn't hate her because she was a part of the rebellion,” Catra scoffs, as if the idea is ridiculous.  

Adora rolls her eyes “yeah sure, you tried to kill her every chance you got for the fun of it!. 

“I didn't like her because she took you” Catra says this quietly, as if hoping Adora won't hear it. 

Adora’s brain grinds to a halt, her muscles atrophy.  “What?” she asks. It's the only response she’s capable of voicing. 

Catra shrugs. The fight drained out of her. Any lingering anger seeps from her bones and she’s left bruised and crippled, scratching her kid behind the ear. 

“I hated her, because if you had never found her you would never have left.” Adora’s hold on her cape tightens, “I needed you, Adora. I needed you more than you ever needed me and when you proved it by leaving…”

Catra frowns, her eyes flashing with long forgotten anger.  “it was my number one priority to get you back. By any means necessary.”

--------)0(--------

Taggart is waiting for them when they return to Catra’s little broom closet. He looks disapproving at Adora’s lack of chains. 

“You gonna get yourself killed dragging her around” he says, opening the door for them both, giving Adora a half hearted glare as she walks past.

“I'm gonna get myself killed by living, if I was concerned about it all the time I would have had a heart attack by now, saved Hordak the bother of doing it himself.” Catra responds, lifting the kit higher on her hip and trying to hide her from view. She knows the effort is futile.

“You shouldnt be actively trying to speed up the processes,” he closes the door on the guards, securely locking it. 

Catra scoffs “like you're not? What are you even doing here” she turns to glare at him." I ordered you to mandatory guardianship as punishment for your treasonous attitude.”

“Oh, yeah, ordering me to have a family is such a punishment,” Taggart snaps back, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

Catra raises an eyebrow but smiles, her arms crossed defiantly. “why are you really here?”

Taggart’s expression shifts, the sarcasm fading as he meets her gaze. “I did go, The group homes are doing great. Just like you predicted."

Catra flattens her ears at Adora's searching look.

" I’ve been… ordered back, recently..by Hordak himself. He’s planning something. Something big. And he needs a strategist.”

Catra leans in slightly, her interest piqued but laced with skepticism. “Big enough that I can’t know about it? We both know he comes to me when he needs a battled planned.”

“I don’t know the details,” Taggart admits, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to lunch,” Taggart says, slumping into Catra’s office chair. His ears are lowering as he eyes Adora. “I need you to come with me.”

Catra raises an eyebrow, her arms crossing defensively. She knows what he's getting out. though the old 'safe words' he using are basically useless now. they've been disovered and catalogue by the Horde years ago. Catra is pretty sure she did it herself.

 “I have more important things to do than get a bite to eat with you, Taggart. We both know I don't eat out. Not anymore”

“I know" Taggart pinches the bridge of his nose, "I know you've given up but the rest of us haven't. I really think we have a break through here.,” Catra feels a flicker of curiosity despite herself. It's overshadowed by cold dread. 

Catra narrows her eyes, curiosity winning out. She thinks there's an old rhyme about this. Curiosity killed the cat.  “What’s for lunch then?”

“Seafood,” he replies, exhaustion creeping into his voice. He winces when Catra fights the urge to roll her eyes. His face pulls at her heart. 

Catra growls, running a hand through her short hair in frustration and letting her tail whip with agitation behind her. She knows she loosing a battle. she decided long ago that planning a coup and trying to overthrow the Horde was a useless plan. even if they did take Hordak out, there would be a power vacuum to strong for Catra or Taggart to fill in their state. “We had that yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t try the calamari. Adora should even come along; I bet she could bring some new authentic foods herself.”

Catra’s heart sinks at the mention of Adora. “Adora already ate,” she snaps. Taggart's eyes fly to hers, shocked at the tone of her voice. maybe not shocked, interested. The blonde herself sinks onto the edge of the bed when Taggart turns to her. intrigued. Adora fails to hide the exhausted shake of her legs. 

“No, I didn’t,” Adora pipes up, her voice soft yet edged with confusion. Taggart's ears twitch at that. He can't tell if she's so confused she really thinks they're talking about lunch or if she knows more then she's letting on. 

Catra shoots her a warning look, but Taggart presses on. “There’s tons to eat, Catra. Adora could help us finish it. She has experience, knowledge-”

“She already ate,” Catra buts in, her frustration bubbling over. “She couldn’t have another bite; look at her”

Taggart’s gaze shifts to Adora, who glares back, trying to mask her exhaustion. He takes in the dark circles under her eyes and the way her limbs shake slightly. Just the short walk out of the Fright Zone had drained her. Holding Cubsy in her arms seems to do the same. 

The cub is latched onto her shirt and holding most of her own weight. Still Adora’s arms slump with fatigue. Taggart eyes the cub but says nothing about the baby. 

“Catra,” Taggart says, his voice softer now, quite enough for only Catra’s ears to pick up “you can’t protect her from this. She is already in the thick of it. If we’re going to survive whatever Hordak has planned, we need her on our side.”

Adora frowns, arms crossed. There's no why she's still out of the loop now. “If you guys have some sort of coup planned, I want to know about it.”

Catra feels a pang of annoyance, “your forgetting that your a Prisoner here, idiot.”

“Adora deserves to know what’s happening, even if we can’t share everything right now,” Taggart insists. He doesn't even try to hide the treasonous talk from Adora anymore. 

"nothings happening!" Catra says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "nothing will happen! it's been discussed a thousand times. there's no use beating a dead horse Taggart. 

“I deserve to know what?” Adora cuts in, her eyes focused on Taggart.  

Catra’s heart races. She wants to tell Adora everything. But the reality is harsh—Adora is too worn out to understand the gravity of their situation. “You don’t understand,” Catra snaps, frustration spilling over. “She’s barely keeping her eyes open!”

Adora pulls herself from her quiet corner, stepping forward, determination shining through her fatigue. “I’m not a child, Catra. I'v dealt with a lot since we last met.”

Catra can’t shake the worry gnawing at her insides. “you don't need to be dragged into this mess” she pinches the ridge of her nose between her fingers. "But you do need to sit down and get some energy back. 

Adora’s expression falters, confusion etched on her face. “What mess is there that I'm not already in the middle of?” she growls in frustration “I don't need your protection, Catra.”

Catra’s heart aches at the realization that that might be what she's been trying to do. A momentary laps in her judgemnt. A slip. Falling back into her role of pretending to be human. 

“I’m not trying to protect you, I'm trying to protect everyone else” she snaps, frustration mingling with desperation. “I don’t want you getting caught up in something you’re not ready for and fucking it up!.” It's a lie and everyone can tell. 

“You're still not explaining what it even is!!”

Taggart’s expression shifts, a mix of understanding and impatience. “We need her on our side, Catra. If Hordak sees her as a liability—”

“Then let him!” Catra snaps, surprising herself with her intensity. “I’m not risking her safety- I mean everyone's safety for some meeting.”

Adora looks between them a flicker of hurt in her eyes. “If I can’t help.. Whatever this is, then what am I doing here? I know I'm not being paraded around like your little pet for no reason. You always have a reason for shit like this”

“language" Catra scolds, making a hypocrite out of herself. her eyes flash to Adora's and they soften, "Resting,” Catra replies, her voice light, tired. “That's what you're doing. You’re a prisoner. This isn’t about keeping you in the dark; it’s about keeping everyone safe.”

Taggart raises an eyebrow, sensing the tension but knowing better than to push it. “Alright then, we’ll go without her.”

Catra growls, digging her face deeper into her hands, pushing her glasses down securely over her eyes before looking up to sneer at Taggart. 

"ill go, but I want you to know when this is over and we went no where? that I fucking told you so"

"language" Adora scolds, flipping Catra off when the feline glares at her. 

“Everytime you're around, you always drag me into your stupid plans." Catra grumbles. 

“Yeah, you say that like you're not the one that started it” Taggart smiles tiredly, standing form his chair with a groan and a hand on his knee. his smile drops as he finally looks at the cub he had known was there the entire time. 

“Catra, we need to talk”

Catra’s ears slink to the side of her head and she nods, standing from the bed herself. 

Adora steps forwards to help her up but Catra avoids her, taking an unnecessary steps back, her tail flicking nervously behind her. “You’ll be okay, right?” it seems to be a statement but she asks it like a question, the uncertainty in her voice betrays her bravado.

Cubsy chirps cutely, smiling at her and reaching for her from Adora's grasp. Catra doesn't reach for her like Adora expects her too. She pets the cubs head and drops a kiss onto her temple. it brings her face close to Adora's their cheeks nearly touching. Adora is transported back to the hallway. Where Catra had scent marked her. 

“Wait what?’ Adora asks, pulling Cubsy closer to herself as Catra moves to leave. Leave without the baby in her arms. She turns to look at Adora, surprised by the blonde's scared voice, “you're leaving it with me?

Catra’s lip ticks up in a smirk “It's a child, Adora, not an it. I didn't the brave and courages She-ra was afraid of children”

“Still! This isn't my kid. I don't know what to do with it." 

“Just make sure she doesn't die” Catra raises a hand in the air in some sort of semi shrug, as if confused about why Adora is scared. She raises an eyebrow. “Well, why do you think you are here?

“To be tortured? cut open for science? tortured?”

Catra laughs and opens her door, 

“You're right but you're also here to babysit. As you can see Cubsy can't be trusted alone.” Catra reaches her hand out and takes hold of Cubsy’s her thumb running over Cubsy’s soft padded palm. 

She glances up at Adora's face and smiles.  “What? I thought you wanted a purpose. She-ra the baby sitter' sounds fucking amazing to me” 

"Langauge" Adora mutters, 

--------)0(--------

Year of the portal- immediately after

  She is there for every second of everyday that follows. She see’s now with a green tint that gives no reprieve. Her lungs fill with a pain that follows every exhale. 

An ache she’ll never get rid of

But physically she is pulled out. Not by a gleaming hatful, clawed, hand. But by a red pincer. 

Scorpia. 

She doesn't say anything when she grabs Catra by the scruff of her neck. It surprises Catra, she didn't notice the pod opening. She’s silent but Scorpia’s eyes say enough. Her face has formed into a look that Catra has never seen before, or at least not directed at her. 

The exiled princess leans over the lip of the container, dragging Catra out of the acid and into the cool air. 

“Wildcat” Scorpia whispers, cradling Catra to her chest like a cub. Catra can make no move to push her away or pull her closer, and she makes no effort to tell Scorpia the tube in her throat is no longer breathing for her but obstructing her airway. She’s hoping it kills her. 

Scorpia stumbles down the steps of the pod, her feet clanking loudly on the metal. The minutes, or was it hours? Spent in the pod has made Catra’s ears sensitive. She winces with every clang echoed around the chamber. 

Scorpia’s face is badly bruised, blood leaks from a cut on her forehead. She must have been the main force pulling The Horde back together after Catra’s shameful display. The chaos after the portal must have been rampant. Catra can even see Hordak going on a rampage and making it much worse. 

Scorpia is hurried as she goops the slime off of Catra’s arms and legs. Clumps of fur come with it and Scorpia seems horrified, Catra is unbothered. 

Scorpia seems rushed, a bag thrown over her shoulder that is packed to the brim. 

Scorpia takes terrified notice of the lack of rise and fall of Catra’s chest and she snips the tube off at her mouth. Catra’s body takes in air even when her brain screams at it not to. It goes directly down the tub and fills her lungs. The fresh air, that is really the musty filtered stuff of Hordaks sanctum, is more painful than refreshing.

“Oh Wildcat” Scorpia murmurs, horror splashed across her face like spilled ink. She opens her mouth again, as if to put into words what a horror Catra has been turned into, but nothing comes out. A pincer lifts her badly blackened hand and holds it to her chest. 

She gapes like a fish. Something Catra would have made fun of before but just doesn't have the energy for it now. She’ll have to make a comment on it later. 

“We’re leaving Catra” Scorpia decides on, her brow set in determination. “ a whole bunch of us, We’re leaving, we’re going to Brightmoon and you're coming with us.”

Something comes out of Catra then. A laugh maybe but it sounds more like a rhythm of wheezing.hurried intakes and exhales of breadth. 

A pincer takes hold of the tube wedging Catra’s jaw open wider than it should ever go. Scorpia slowly pulls it out, definitely unsure if the act will kill Catra or not. The feline hopes it does. Catra doesn't make a sound, she’s felt worse. 

They’re going to brightmoon. Land of princesses and rainbow. A gaggle of Horde soldiers and two exiled princesses, what a riot. Catra can’t go there, she’d never make it, and if she did she'd be executed on sight.  but oh how she knows Scorpia would love it. It would be like the happiness that shoots out of Scorpia’s ass turned into a magical land. 

Catra gasps for air as the tub exits her mouth and laughs and thinks. Then she thinks some more. It's terrible, she misses when she was in too much pain to use her brain; but she needs her brain, just for a second. She needs to remember her escape plans. How she knew she would get Scorpia out unscathed if worse came to worse. 

Catra may not be leaving but if Scorpia wanted to, Catra would never force her to stay here. Scorpia was always too nice for this war anyways. She was always going to leave and it was always going to crush what was left of Catra’s heart. 

She had a plan for Scorpia, for when the princess was ready to go. She just needed to remember what the escape plan was.

It had something to do with Hordak’s sanctum. She remembers that. Good thing they’re already here. Good thing Hordak is nowhere in sight.

Scorpia couldn't just leave. The entire fright zone is a series of checkpoints, buildings scouting for deserters, and snipers ready to shoot. She wouldn't be able to get out of the Fright Zone without her badge let alone get to Brightmoon. 

Then as soon as she left without permission, as soon as someone realized she was gone, they’d be on the hunt for her. The Horde doesn't take well to deserters. Scorpia would be an injured fox in a fox hunt. 

Dragging Catra behind her? she’d just be dead. 

“Brightmoon” Catra’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Her voice is quiet, it doesn't squeak, it doesn't crack. It screams and scraps. “Brightmoon-, you’ll never make it there.“ She laughs without humor. “Not with me but..”

Catra turns to Emily. The bot seems to shake under her dead gaze. It's one, red circle like eye blinking and twirling.  It’ll know what to do. It's programmed too. Catra made sure of it. Entrapta may not know it but her little pet is good at one thing. 

“Im dead already,” Her mouth splits then. Not with a smile. Whatever her lips made it could never be considered a smile.  “And i've always been a good distraction”

“No, Catra-” Scorpia doesn't get a chance to finish, Catra nails are scraping and gouging into her exoskeleton. Scorpia backs up with a gasp, claws clutched to her chest, and gives Catra enough room to rip herself from the women's grasp

She can't stand, her leg is more or less reduced to its skeleton, her arm is faring better but still not strong enough to hold her up. She crouches like an animal, the monster that she is, and blends herself into the shadows of Hordak’s sanctum. Scorpia squints into the darkness, her eyes wide and desperate.

“Catra we have a plan, we’re getting everyone out. No one left behind.” Scorpia crawls towards where Catra disappeared. Catra is no longer there, she’s crawled, hands and feet, towards the control board. “We’re getting you out.”

“Unless you have a plan to take out the check points” Scorpia pales, quickly looking up.”you and everyone leaving wont make it very far.” Catra coughs, blood sprouting from her mouth and spraying the floor before her. The green light of the room makes the red blend in with the floor.

“I-” Scorpio stammers, her pincers opening and closing. “We will figure it out, we have Entrapta-”

“It's time to leave Scorpia, this’ll be your one chance.” Catra grins as she drags herself towards Hordaks control board. “This’ll be everyone’s one chance.” everyone except Catra, she’s hoping this signs her death notice. 

She knows that as soon as she starts messing with the controls the alarms will start blaring so she looks to Emily. Emily nods. Or as best as a round robot can. She’s always liked that thing, it was so loyal, so eager to follow directions. Catra should have made more of them.

“Code red lobster, Emily” Catra smirks and slinks through the shadows. The bot chirps like a bird, its red eye loading with a swirl of light before blinking a bright blue. “You know what to do”

“Catra!” Scorpia squeaks as Emily rolls towards her. The big girl makes a move towards Catra’s voice but Emiliy, a bot that never really liked Catra but takes her job pretty seriously, bowls the girl over. Pushing insistently towards the door.  Catra grips the control board and heaves herself up, looking all too much like a dying mad scientist. 

She wishes she had the lab coat to complete the picture. She’s always had a little flair for the dramatic. Maybe, in a fit of luck, some lighting will strike against the sky. 

“NO! I'm not leaving without her '' Scorpia pushes back at Emily, pincers planted firmly on the bot's legs. “We will figure it out on the way there, Catra. You don’t need to do this” 

Alarms start to blare as Catra slams a hand down on the control board, her eyes fluttering over the many buttons. Any of them could kill her tonight once she starts messing with the main electrical system. The thought doesn’t drag as much concern from her as it should. 

She leans over as a strike of pain zips up her spine. The act pulls Catra into the flashing red light and she turns to give Scorpia one last smile. “I'm not going to give you much of a choice Scorp”

 Catra knows how she must look. A frail burnt character slouched in the shadows, dripping with green sizzling mucus. A gashed feral grin splitting her face like a watermelon. What a pretty picture. 

“Catra, please, we can go together”

“We both know we won't make it out of here with me on your back. Take Entrapta and leave before Hordak grows a few brain cells.” Emily doubles her energy, shoving a frantic Scorpia out the door and giving Catra just enough time to slam the automated door shut, locking it.

She’s going to need to give Scorpia as much time as she can to get out of the Fright Zone before frazzling the main frame. 

The sound of claws banging on the metal door echoes around the room unbearably. 

--------)0(--------

“Taggart’ Catra hisses, slamming his shoulder into the wall and stopping him from using his slightly better mobility from getting away from Catra. “What the hell,” he had set off as soon as Catra had left Adora behind. his ears pressed back against his skull in obvious aggression. he may not be a cat but he's still an animal. 

“You have a war prisoner in your room. Catra” he whispers, leaning forward. “Sleeping in your bed, you're pushing your luck with Hordak as it is, now you have a child there too?”

"I thought you liked Adora! you were just trying to get her to join your little band.' Catra says, breathing heavily from the slight jog she had to do to keep up with the man. “I found Cubsy here, I couldn't let her fend for herself”

“She had a family waiting for her, Catra!" 

"A group home! You know how those are! She wouldn't have been cared for, not right”

"Better than what you're doing” he hisses, "I was just at the group homes! there thriving!"

Catra fights the urge to slam him into the wall, an anger she hasn't felt in a long time boiling in her gut where indifference used to sit. She feels like a teenager again, confused and frustrated, missing her best friend and fearing her mother's wrath. 

“You think she would be safer anywhere else?” Catra hisses, a hand slamming his shoulder into the metal wall behind him. “You think the fucking war zone out there is safer for a cadet then here? She'll be fed here. Warm, cared for”

“You're keeping her in a filing cabinet Catra.” his voice cracks almost desperately, he bends his head to whisper to her “if Hordak ever found out-”

"I grew up in a cardboard box" Catra fights the urge to bite something. anger boiling up in her fists. "you didn't seem to have a problem with how the Horde did things when I was a kid"

Taggart winces, pulling away from Catra in shame. "If Hordak finds out what your doing-"

“He wont find out” Catra cuts him off.

“If he did, do you realize what he would do to that poor baby”

Catra snarls, nothing but a wordless growl. A cornered cat. "did you even know what they did to me?" she whispers.

Taggart tilts his head up and away. His eyes focused on something. Catra follows his gaze. Lonnie is sticking her head out the Medbay doors. Her eyes are trained on Catra, pitying. It. makes Catra want to throw her cane across the hall. 

“Taggart, finally. Get in here” Lonnie says, following Horde protocol. overhearing a conversation like that didn't happen. Or that's how Lonnie will see it. she has Horde Educate. Born and raised. 

Lonnie ducks her head back into the sterile room, her eyes focusing on Catra for just a second before ushering them both inside. Catra’s guards fall in step behind them, hesitating at the door before keeping guard there instead of following in. 

“Why is she here?” Lonnie gestures harshly to Catra, her eyes trained on Taggart. "she's a deserter"

"wow, I really feel appreciated" Catra drawls, crossing her arms. 

“I told you I had an informant who had a bit of sway in the Horde" Taggart hisses. 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me it was Catra! Hordak’s on her like a dingo on a baby anyway. The best she could do now is get us caught.” Lonnie shoots Catra with a suspicious look, her eye twitching. “And she’s got that rat trailing her, too. You really want her dragged into this?”

"I though you were warming up to her-"

"I'm talking about Adora, dimwit" Lonnie snarls , sending Taggart a venomous look. When he doesn't back down, she finally huffs, “Alright, Kyle. Wake up.”

Kyle has grown in the last years, Catra hadn't seen much of him. He’s taller, not by much, and covered in muscle. not a lot of it. No wonder he was moved to tank detail. His frame is perfect for loading blast shells in the boiling heat of a Horde death trap. 

He groans, an arm that has been wrapped to hell and back in gauze, lifting to rub across his stubbled face. 

“Kyle,” Lonnie sits next to him on the cot, a hand brushing his hand away and resting on his cheek. “honey , I need you to tell them what you told me”

“Rogelio is so freakin’ hot— ” Kyle began in a raspy voice, only for Lonnie to slap her hand over his mouth. Hopefully to keep him from sprouting something else awful.

“No you dolt” Lonnie slowly whispers, “The other thing, about the Queen”

“Glimmer?” Catra straightened, catching herself as she leaned off the wall, an almost unguarded flicker of concern in her eyes. Lonnie raised an eyebrow, but Catra quickly settled back with a cough. “What happened to Her Royal Highness, Glitter ?”

“Princess” Kyle croaks, his eyes barely opening to squint at Catra.

“What did you just call me?” Catra growls, hand reaching for anything within range she can smack him over the head with. The medical tray beside her only held gauze, which Lonnie easily swatted away.

“Princess Glimmer” she reiterated. A hand rubbing Kyle on the chest as he struggles to catch his breath. 

“I'm pretty sure I remember turning her into an unwilling queen.” Catra scoffs, her nails digging uncomfortably into another wrap of gauze. 

“I…saw…the Queen,” Kyle wheezed, taking Lonnie’s hand, halting her soothing strokes as she tries to brush away sweating strands of hair. 

“Lonnie, your tank scum isn't making any sense”

“Shut up for a second, Catra” Lonnie says

“I saw queen Angella” Kyle whispers. Catra freezes

“and I made sure she was dead over 5 years ago” she retaliates. 

“I saw what I saw. she was alive, if not well.”

“Where did you see her?”

“She was on the seagate, digging through the wiring or something. I couldn't tell if she was trying to help or if the woman had gone crazy but then the tank was already pointed at her and firing.”

“Well, is she dead now?”

“No, Princess Glimmer had snatched her up just in time,”

“Stop calling Glitter that” Catra growls. 

“Kyle- no offense but” taggart sighs

Kyle’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “I’m telling you, Catra…the Queen lives.”

“This—” Catra sputtered, her face twisting as her mind raced through the implications.

“This is great news” Taggart whispers his eyes off in the distance

“Are you kidding me?” Catra hisees, turning to him “do you realize what this means?

“That the thousand year old queen lives, that the rebellion stands a chance.” Taggarts eyes gleam. 

“Stop it. Stop with the delusions!” Catra snapped, starting to pace. “If Angella’s alive, then she’s been alive this whole time, and she hasn’t turned the tide. She’s useless to the rebellion

“Now that we know she’s alive we can use it to our advantage. Imagine how many soldiers can be swayed knowing the PA still has a queen.” Taggart slaps a fist into his palm.  "Most of them are still here because they don't think the rebellion can win. If they find out-” 

“If Hordak ever finds out, my hide is screwed” Catra paces, “I shut down that portal, my one redeeming quality being it killed the Queen of Brightmoon. If Hordak finds out that she lives? Even his own fucked up reasoning won't be good enough to keep me around.”

“If the soldiers find out it could be enough to finalize a coup” Lonnie looks away. Almost guilty that she is on Taggarts side. “This could be our moment to take over.”

“I've thrown like ten coups!" Catra exaggerates, thinking back on the day Scorpio escapes. "If they didn't work then they won't work now.” Catra laughs a little manically.  “Are you serious? We’re not spreading this. Lonnie? Keeping your girlfriend fucking quiet." 

“Taggarts right” Kyle sits himself up with a groan, graciously taking the cup when Lonnie offers him water. “The rebellion might stand a chance. "

"Ah huh!” Taggart glaots. Pointing at them and then shrinking slightly under Catra’s glare. 

“But not because of the Queen,” Kyle croaks. 

 Catra stabs her cane into Taggarts foot, but looks up in surprise at that. 

“They have some sort of weapon, something they thought could win the war in one battle. “ Kyle mutters. 

“Then why haven't they used it?” Catra asks, throwing a hand in the air. 

"Because Adora got captured before they could, I think she has some kind of imperative role to play in firing it.”

“This is ridiculous,” Catra gestures to Kyle “he obviously has a serious brain injury. How would he know about it if they did have a weapon? If Adora had some sort of value Hordak would know. She would be locked up in his sanctum right now being experimented on.”

“I know because I watched as they tried to set it on me." Kyle growls. 

“Hordak not knowing is what makes the weapon and Adora so valuable.” Lonnie says, taking the cup back. 

“Since when are you some sort of treasonous god” Catra asks, exasperated. “And since when have we taken Kyle from his damn word. 

“Since Hordak decided to risk my boyfriends’ life for some stupid fucking land.” Lonnie says. “Do you think those soldier want to be out there getting fucking shot at?”

Catra pinches the bridge of her nose, breathing harshly In rhythm with the clock on the wall. "It's obvious you guys are all looking for quick fixes to save your hides now that you've realized the Horde has gone to shit" Lonnie lowers her eyes and Kyle pulls the blanket up higher to cover his face. Taggart grits his teeth and looks away. 

"Don't you think that if there was a fix all I would have found it?" she asks, watching their moral drop further. Crushing the sprints of the last people in the Horde who have the power to do anything was not on Catra's to do list. "If we want to pull the rug our from Hordak and succeed we need something better"

Taggart looks up with perked ears. a glint in his eye that makes Catra look away. 

A guard bangs on the door. a warning. Catra’s head snaps up to see one of the guards on her personal detail sloppily opening the sliding door for an imposing figure. 

A sudden presence filled the med bay, cold and unsettling. Hordak’s gaunt figure loomed in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame, his breaths ragged and shallow, as though each one were a battle. A faint glow from his cracked armor cast jagged shadows over the sharp planes of his face, making his red, sunken eyes glint with a dangerous focus.

“Catra,” he drawled, voice raspy but laced with disdain. “Walk with me.”

She straightened instinctively, squaring her shoulders before she stepped forward. But his stare held her in place, a smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed the room.

“Tell me, Catra,” he sneered, his voice dripping with mock interest. “What have you accomplished so far?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Landmass has increased by over three hundred square miles and counting. The entire Salineas region has fallen, along with every small town beyond it. Their defenses—”

“I meant with our prisoner, ” he interrupted, his voice edged with patience that felt all the more menacing. His gaze was cold, unfeeling.

“No change,” she said curtly, her face carefully blank.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, though it twisted into something close to amusement. “Disappointing… but exactly as expected.”

For a heartbeat, he seemed to relax, but Catra knew better than to trust the ease in his posture.

Hordak pushed himself from the doorframe and, with a sharp tilt of his head, motioned for her to follow. She obeyed, stepping into the narrow corridor just outside the med bay, the distant hum of the Horde's machinery surrounding them. The hall was dimly lit, the flickering lights casting long shadows as they walked, and the scent of sterilized metal hung in the air.

As they stopped just beyond the med bay’s threshold, Hordak turned to face her, his expression hard and assessing. He was studying her, as if weighing her worth—and her expendability.

“Tell me, Catra,” he began, voice low and dangerous, “why do you think I keep you around?”

Catra kept her gaze steady, refusing to show any flicker of fear. She lies through her teeth “I assume it’s because I get results,” she replied, forcing confidence into her voice.

Hordak gave a hollow, humorless laugh. “ Results. ” He shook his head. “You’ve taken land, yes. Crushed towns, sent soldiers to their graves… But you think that is enough?” He leaned forward, his red eyes narrowing. “It’s been five years since the explosion—the same one that nearly killed me. Do you even know what you took from me that day? or are you to focused on yourself”

She held his gaze, her jaw tightening. She had heard it all before—how her decision to shut down the machine had cost him dearly. But the consequences had been hers to bear as well. She still carried the scars from that day, just as he did.

“I did what I had to do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “To protect the Horde.”

“You did what was convenient for you, ” he snarled, voice cold. “Your little maneuver destroyed our only chance of stabilizing that portal—and severed my only connection to my exalted brother.” His voice dropped even lower, his face inches from hers. “And I’ve never forgotten it.”

A sick feeling pooled in her stomach, but she kept her expression neutral. This wasn’t the time to challenge him. "I know that". she can't help the sneer of disrespect that fills her words. 

His hand shot up, revealing the cracked electrical display on his wrist. Sparks flicker from his joints, casting small, ominous bursts of light across the hall. He shoves the display into Catra's face. 

“You see this?” His voice was deadly calm.  Do you know what this?

Catra swallows but nods, her hands tightening on her cane. “Yes sir,"

"what is it?" he growls.

"a detonator sir,”

“It’s a detonator,” Hordak reiterates “ primed to explode at my command. A single press, and this entire base becomes a graveyard.” He leaned in, his expression twisted into a cruel smirk. “That includes your precious mentor. Do you understand?”

She clenched her fists, anger flaring in her chest."is that all lord Hordak?" she asks between clenched teeth. 

"yes" Hordak smiles, reaching out to touch Catra's face. Almost like a father. "get something out of that girl or it will be her I threaten next"

"yes, Lord Hordak"

Catra watched Hordak hobble down the hallway, his once-imposing figure now a twisted shell of power barely held together by metal and spite. Each shuffling step was labored, his breaths like the hiss of a leaky valve. Even in his broken state, he commanded obedience through sheer will—and that damned detonator. Her jaw tightened as he finally turned a corner and disappeared from view.

The moment he was gone, she exhaled sharply, her stoic mask slipping away. With one final glance over her shoulder, she turned and limped back into the med bay, her fingers clenching the cane as she shut the door quietly behind her. She leaned heavily against the wall, momentarily closing her eyes as a smirk crept onto her face, steely defiance forced into a grin.

The med bay was still, Kyle still drifting in and out of consciousness on the cot, and Taggart and Lonnie exchanging wary glances. They stiffened as she entered, their expressions somewhere between surprise and concern.

Lonnie raised an eyebrow, looking her over with a hint of suspicion. “I take it that little chat went well?”

“Oh, just great,” Catra drawled, rubbing her jaw where the stinging mark of Hordak’s slap still lingered. "Just a quick talk, so I remember whose in charge here"

Lonnie snorted, though her gaze softened. “I’m guessing it wasn’t really a pleasant”

Catra’s eyes flickered with something darker, her expression tightening. “No, it wasn’t,” she muttered, an edge in her voice. “Lonnie, how do you feel about recon?”

Taggart raised an eyebrow, catching her meaning. “recon?”

“I need some supplies for the Horde's next move against the Rebellion.” Catra began, her voice low, almost a whisper. “I need you to get something for me from the armory.”

Lonnie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re serious?” she asks. 

Catra's eyes narrow, “I need a few of those heat bombs. The ones Hordak likes to keep under tight lock. I think they’ll be very… useful. Hard to find but useful”

A flicker of understanding crossed Lonnie’s face, and she hesitated, glancing toward the closed door. “Those bombs aren’t exactly easy to get to, Catra. You know they’re stored with the big shit, not in the regular supply rooms. Sometimes they're even stored off base.”

“But you can get them, can’t you?” Catra pressed, eyes hardening. “You have almost unfiltered access to the whole arsenal.”

Lonnie smirked, a hint of pride glinting in her eye. “Yeah, I do. But if they notice even one of those missing… I’d rather not end up like Kyle here.” She nodded toward him, still groaning on the cot.

Catra sticks out her bottom lip. Lonnie rolls her eyes and groans before flipping the girl off. 

“Fine,” she muttered. “But if this backfires, you’re covering for me.”

Catra grins ferally. 

--------)0(--------

Adora is snooping. She refuses to feel ashamed about it. A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do to get some information around here. 

She turns to the towering shelves in Catra's room, her curiosity overriding her caution. she glances over the open books on Catra's beside table. the one she had seen her and heard her read to cubsy for the last few nights. the ones she reads by herself tucked neatly under them. They're nothing but actual books, which was to be expected. 

Adora turns to the stacks on the walls. she pulls out a book, then another, checking between pages for hidden notes or messages. Many of the books held nothing but old battle plans, their edges creased and worn. Adora’s stomach clenches as she flips passed plans she recognizes from battles she herself had fought in—grueling encounters she’d barely survived. These books were a silent record of her own scars. 

But then her fingers brushed against something different: a sheet of paper wedged tightly between two books. She slid it free, holding her breath as she glanced over it. Her eyes widened as she recognized a moniker written across the top in sharp, unmistakable handwriting: Glimmer. Queen Glimmer

As she sorted through the stacks, one name kept jumping out at her, catching her breath: “Glimmer, Queen of Bright Moon.”

What Adora hesitates over it. her brow furrowing in confusion. She pauses, clutching Cubsy closer. The baby is busy sucking on her pacifier. Glimmer has never been the Queen. Angella had tried to pass on the roll after the portal but.. 

She flipped through the pages again, her heart pounding as she scanned the names and notations hastily scrawled in the margins. “Queen of Bright Moon” appeared everywhere, as if it were a title that had been firmly cemented in the fabric of the plans.

 Each document only reinforces the idea that the Horde viewed Glimmer as the reigning monarch. The Horde thinks that Glimmer is queen. Catra thinks that. 

She had thought it was queer. How the battle plans had been calibrated for the smallest casualty. Shotguns replaced with stun batons and electric bullets. The horde had done one eighty since the portal. Killing was a last resort. 

Adora had thought the death of their second in command had shocked them. That a softer hearted general had usurped the older Force Captains. 

Adora taps the papers again Catra’s bedside table, straightening them. Her hand hits the decorations off the table and Adora winces, standing perfectly still and waiting for the door to open with an enraged Catra. 

When none comes, Adora sighs with her paranoia and bends to pick up the picture frame that clattered to the floor. She reaches for the book that had fallen under the bed. 

Adora stomach drops at the gapped toothed smile directed at her. 

It was a snapshot of herself, beaming, with an arm wrapped around a small, furry feline. The sneaky grin was unmistakably Catra’s. Her eyes are squinted and irritable as she stands in the canteen line. 

Adora smiles, she remembers how much Catra used to sleep at that age. Curling up on water heaters and hiding in the air ducts was her favorite. Getting up for breakfast, not so much.

“I can’t believe this survived,” Adora murmured, her heart aching. Anything outside of their regular checkups typically got purged from the system each year. Catra must have printed it out somehow before Shadow Weaver could get her hands on it. 

The air conditioning kicked on with a whine, startling Adora back to the present. She hurriedly set the picture down, her hand lingering over the small book that had also fallen. The title caught her breath: This Is How You Lose the Time War.  

’it's one of her favorites. . Knowing that Catra had also read it, kept it next to her bed even, sends a shiver through her’. 

When Adora had finished it, her first thought was of Catra. She had even had a silly thought of sending her a copy. A silly thought for someone on the opposite side of the war. Maybe Catra would have thought it was as familiar as she had. 

She opens the first page, thinking of the inscription she had written in her own copy. A little note to Catra immortalized in pen. 

​​However, Catra’s book was different. Nothing was written on the inside. Oddly, there was no cover page, just the jagged ends where a blank sheet had once been. Adora's brow furrowed, her finger tracing the indentations left by a pencil on the page behind the missing one.

Adora glances over her shoulder at the door before giving into her dirty instincts. She digs around in Catra’s bedside table grinning when she pulls out a pencil, nearly worn to the eraser. 

Setting Cubsy down on the sheets, she knelt before the bed and flattened the book out. “Please, let this work,” she whispered to no one in particular, holding her breath as she placed the pencil to the page. Her grin widened as numbers began to appear under the graphite.

But as the numbers became clearer, her smile fell away, replaced by a sinking dread. Ration boxes and their missing numbers—a detailed account of supplies meant for a village,

A village on the edge of the rebellion's territory that had been hiding the rebellion for the recent months. 

If the horde knew of this the rebellion, what's left of it, would be gone. Squashed under the Horde’s foot. Under Hordak’s foot. 

Indisputable evidence of not only where the rebellion is but what the state the rebellion is in. how dire they are in need of rations. 

Adora's heart raced as the implications of the numbers sank in. Catra had to know about the rations being smuggled out to the rebellion—how else could these records exist? The original page of the book, the one that might have detailed more about these missing supplies, had been torn out. It could be anywhere, perhaps even in Hordak's grasp now. The thought made her stomach churn.

She dropped the book back onto the comforter, her mind racing. If Catra had access to this information, it could spell disaster for the rebellion. Adora glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the space beneath the bed. She crouched down, searching for loose papers, anything that could give her more insight into Catra’s knowledge. Her fingers brushed against the dusty floor as she strained to see in the dim light.

She nearly emptied the bedside table in her frantic search, pulling out papers, trinkets, and forgotten odds and ends. Adora’s breath quickened as she fought the urge to rip books off the shelves and find the incriminating evidence she desperately needed. Each book she opened was filled with more indented pages, signs of something important having been removed. Crumbs left behind by the rebellion’s desperation were scattered throughout—ration reports detailing supplies that had gone missing and land that had been omitted in soldier reports.

Adora’s shaking hands flipped through more and more books, but instead of clarity, she found only chaos. Her heart sank further with each page that revealed rebellion sightings that had been deleted from official reports. It was all evidence of a brewing storm, and Catra had been at the center of it.

Shaking, Adora shoves ‘how to lose the time war’ into the bedside table and closes it quietly. Catra knows. She knows where the rebellion is, that their starving and losing territory, that there are spies in the Horde itself.

But she hasn't told Hordak. Not yet at least. There's too many here for them all to have been .

She glances up at cubsy. Taking in the cubs sleepy form. The baby sucks on her pacifier and stretches out along the bed like a cat, her tail flipping lazily. Unconcerned by Adora’s anxiety. 

Adora looked up at Cubsy, who was nestled on the bed, her small form a picture of innocence. Adora’s heart ached at the sight. She hadn't seen security like that since.. Maybe never.

 The exhaustion from days spent on edge, always alert and constantly worrying about her safety, crashed over her like a wave. With a soft sigh, she crawled up beside the little kit, drawn to her warmth.

The room was filled with Catra’s natural earthy scent, a mix of familiar notes that lulled Adora’s anxiety. It was a comforting aroma, one that Adora never thought she would smell again. Despite the chaos surrounding her, that scent wrapped around her like a blanket, dulling her senses.

As she lay next to Cubsy, Adora felt her eyelids grow heavy. The weight of sleepless nights and anxious thoughts began to pull them down. She glanced at Cubsy, who was stretched out along the bed like a content little cat, blissfully unaware of the tension that fills Adora’s body.. The baby sucked on her pacifier, her tiny body relaxing completely as her tail flicked lazily from side to side, a picture of untroubled innocence.

Adora couldn’t help but smile at the sight, feeling her own anxiety ease, if only for a moment. The rhythmic sound of Cubsy’s gentle breaths began to lull Adora’s eyelids further down, her own worries fading away. As she nestled closer to the kit, she allowed herself to sink into the comfort of the moment, surrendering to the exhaustion that had haunted her for far too long.

She doesn't notice when Catra opens the door again, which must be hours later. 

The door creaked open quietly, and Catra stepped into the room. She moved with a slight limp, her cane tapping softly against the floor as she entered. Each step was careful, the pain evident in the way she favored her injured leg. Yet, despite the discomfort, there was a determination in her eyes, a fierce light that still shone through the shadows.

Catra paused for a moment, taking in the sight of Adora and Cubsy together on the bed. She had feared she might never hold Adora close again. But here they were, Catra’s two favirite people in the same place. the two of them nestled together.

With a soft, almost hesitant movement, Catra slipped into the bed beside them. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, but Adora barely stirred, lost in the comfort of her dreams. Catra inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of Adora wrapping around her like a protective embrace.

Cubsy nestled closer to Adora, the little cub's soft, furry body radiating warmth. With her pacifier snug in her mouth, Cubsy stretched lazily, her tail flicking gently. Adora glanced down at the baby, taking in the innocent expression on Cubsy’s face, and felt a wave of protectiveness wash over her.

Catra couldn't help but smile as she positioned herself closer to Adora, carefully wrapping her arms around the blonde. Adora sighed softly in her sleep, a contented sound that sent warmth flooding through Catra’s chest. She nestled against her, the rhythmic rise and fall of Adora’s breathing calming her racing heart.

For a moment, everything felt right. They lay there, wrapped up together, a peaceful sanctuary in the chaos that surrounded them. Adora's body radiates warmth, and Catra found herself succumbing to the exhaustion that had followed her since her return. As the comfort of Adora's presence enveloped her.

--------)0(--------

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Jesus Christ. “ Adora jumps her eyes jumping to the opened door. The bags under her eyes feel as if they have gotten deeper. The amount of sleep she’s been getting make her more exhausted not less.“Who invited the fucking traitor”

“Lonnie?” Adora asks, hey eyebrows raising up her massive forehead and to her hairline. 

“Catra! stop adopting strays!” Lonnie heaves the bags up onto the kitchen counter . “We both know you don’t have the living space in here” 

Thank you for your input Lonnie” Comes Catra monotone voice from her command room. She strolls out with a peice of paper held infront of her face, her shades perched in her hair line. “I’ll make sure to let management know your concerns. I dont know why you chose to react so strongly seeing as you knew Adora was here” 

“I'm never in the loop anymore” Lonnie grumbles, smiling only when Cubsy comes to stand on her feet. “No one tells me anything, do they?” Her baby talks to the kit. “I thought Adora was hidden away in a little dungeon somewhere. Never to see the light of day again”

“Creepy” Adora mumbles. Sitting back in her chair at the dining room table. 

“First Catra steals you like a baby snatcher and then she kidnapps the PA’s most beloved hero.” Lonnie nods and holds the baby up in the air, her eyes crinkling when cubsy giggles.

“Catras is going to go to jail for possession of unlawful persons. Yes she is” 

“I’ll have you know Hordak knows Adora is here” Catra grimaces and side eyes the blond. “ but I am supposed to be torturing her.”

Lonnie rolls her eyes and rocks the cub on her hip, and eyebrow is raised in Catras direction. “Hordak should know by now that you don’t have the stomach for torture. The worst you can do is annoy and talk someone to death.” 

“You cut me deep, Lonnie” Catra lowers her paper and deadman’s at the girl. “ how ever will I move on with my life” 

“You will somehow” Lonnie sighs, running her fingers through Cubsys duly hair. “You’ve been doing it this long” 

“Yes, like a roach. As you have told me” Catra hefts one of the bags into the table and shoves her paperwork into Lonnie's hands. 

How did the blonde bandit get here anyway shouldn't she be scrounging around for scraps in some compromised rebellion hide out?

“I don't like how she’s talking about me like i'm not here”

“She should be, fortunately, Adora here just missed us so much she couldn't stay away. “ Catra smiles brightly, it's a little too forced to be real. 

“Take that to Taggart and tell him it's urgent,” Catra says, pulling an entire rotisserie chicken from the bag and smiling at Cubsy’s excited noises. 

“Oh I guess I'm a delivery boy now,” Lonnie rolls her eyes when Catra ignores her and takes the cub from her hands. She sets another stack of papers down on the table next to the groceries.. “I'll have you know i am a high ranking official not a busboy. 

“I'll give you the weekend off” Catra dangles this infront of her like its water in a desert. Lonnie grins widely and carefully tucks the paper work away into her jacket pocket. 

One letter being safely delivered right away Force Captain Catra, anything else?”

“Yes, don't talk to me like that, it scares the hell outta me.”

 Lonnie flips her off on the way out of the room, uncensored by the little eyes watching her. Catra is too busy sticking her hand in the bags Lonnie had dragged into the room. 

“Lonnie,” Catra’s head snaps up, her hand closing the bag quickly before she hobbles over to the woman, whispering to her urgently right outside the door. She doesn't notice the paper that flutters to the ground. 

Adora does, and it makes her eyebrows furrow. The details for the attack on the rest of the rebellion. 

An attack In the crimson waste. the barren wasteland no one has been to in the last century. Where Hordak still believes the rebellion to reside. Where Adora knows the rebellion doesn't. Catra is purposefully leading the Honda astray.

 

Chapter Text

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Adora was a lighter sleeper when she lived in the horde. When she was just a soldier and not a princess. There was more to fear then. More to keep one eye open for. That doesn't stop her body from waking when she feels the bed shake. 

Catra is trembling. Her back shivers where she is curled up around her injured leg. Her ears are plastered to the side of her head. Her hair is damp with sweat, plastered to her head. It would be gross if Adora hadn't grown up around other people blood, sweat and tears. 

“Catra” Adora murmurs. Blinking the sleep from her eyes. She’s still thick with dreams and sluggishness. She was better at waking up quicker back then too. 

She feels safe here and she knows it. She shouldn't feel comfortable enough to sleep like this when she's surrounded by her enemy. When the girl sleeping next to her has tried to kill her so many times. 

Catra growls in her sleep, low and unforgiving, it makes the kit resting in the file box next to them twitch. Small brows furrow and little ears twitch back. 

Adora bites her lip and reaches out, expecting a harsh scratching from the feline. Catra does not lash out like Adora expected. Her body stills eerily. Like she can sense something Adora can’t. So Adora stills too, one hand on Catra’s waist, her eyes widening as far as they can in the darkness, searching for whatever Catra can see in the shadows that she can't. 

But there's nothing. No noise or smell that Adora can tell. Catra has just frozen. Adora rubs her thumb soothingly into the feline's back. 

“Catra?” she mumbles, leaning closer, her forehead comes in contact with Catra’s back, sinking into the damp fur there. 

“What” Catra growls, it rumbles in her chest, and as if the word had thawed her, her back starts to shake again. Her shoulders tremble with fatigue. 

“Why-” 

“Go back to sleep Adora” she growls, her voice hissed between clenched teeth. Adora sneers in the darkness. Squinting as if she could grow night vision as clear as Catra’s. She’s far too tired of being left in the dark. 

If Catra won't tell her willingly she’ll drag it out of her. 

“What is wrong” Adora asks, pressing her hand firmer into Catra’s waist. Her thumb digging into her fur. Her eyes widen at the hiss of pain Catra releases. A light wine and then Catra’s shifting out of bed and away from Adora. Cold air rushes in from where she leaves the bed spread open.

“Go bad to sleep” 

Catra slips out from between the covers and slides onto the floor. Sitting with her head resting against the mattress she stretches out her leg. Adora listens to her pained shifting before switching the bedside table light on. Catra hisses, her eyes pupils contracting and her eyelids squeezing shut. Her tail whips agitatedly. 

“Turn that off” she growls, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose as rub her eyes, the other rubbing harsh circles into her thigh.

“Are you in pain?” Adora asks, throwing the blanket off of her. As ineffective as it was, she misses the warmth. “Where are you hurt?”

“Back off” Catra turns. Her teeth bared. The first sign of fight Adora has seen all night. Catra as a cub would have been lashing out in pain. Claws flashing. This Catra barely snarls, her pupils shaking in their sockets, before she turns her back on Adora once more. 

Adora stands and kneels before Catra, she searches the feline for wounds. She hadn't been awake when Catra crawled into the bed. The soldier is often out late and up early. Off to build battle strategies with the Force captains or oversee something or other. Adora isn't privy to much information. An ever more frustrating occurrence. 

Adora grabs Catra’s arms where they circle her belly, roughly pulling them to the side so she can search through the fur herself. Catra isn't wearing a shirt nor a bra. The feline runs hot at night. A relief for Adora. Who is unfortunately furless in such a cold landscape. 

“Let go of me” Catra growls, furiously trying to yank her arms back to her body. She is much weaker than Adora. More so than ever. Catra has been out of the battle field for years while Adora has only grown stronger. 

“Then tell me what hurts” Adora holds Catra’s wrist against the mattress next to her head. Leaving no room for argument. Catra growls and bows her head to the side. Adora’s heart twists at a pained wine. 

“Everything hurts,” she snarls. Quietly enough for the kit above them to continue snoozing away. “You don't get ripped apart by a portal and then smashed back together without a couple of loose pieces.”

Adora winces, letting go of Catra’s arms and letting the feline wrap herself back up. 

Adora sighs, relaxing back on her haunches and rubbing her face with her hands. Her muscles are still fried even after weeks of doing nothing. Her closest thing to exercise are the walks Catra forces them to take. 

“Are you sore?” she asks, leaning down so her face is even with Catra’s. The feline snarls, her head tucked against her knees tightly. “I can't help you if-”

“You can't help me at all,” Catra whispers, her shoulders forcibly relaxing. It seems her feral attitude is dissolving. Whether from Adora’s soothing posture or her own hand. 

“Well I can't try if you won't let me” Adora says, settling her hands on Catra’s knees. Peering at her mismatched eyes. Catra bars her teeth, frustration evident in her trembling pupils, but she relents. 

“I feel like I'm being electrocuted.” Catra admits, between clamped teeth. Adora winces, remembering her own time under Shadow Weavers care. “Like my muscles are acting without my command. They.. won't stop” Catra gestures loosely to the way she shakes. Adora nods. 

She scoops Catra into her arms, ignoring the cute nearly silent squeal of outrage or surprise. “Put me down, right now” she whispers, more surprised than angry. 

“Just a second,” Adora mumurms, elbowing open the bathroom door and stumbling in. She’s still weak but she can still hold Catra in her arms like she used to. 

She sets Catra on the edge of the tub and twists the handle all the way into the red. The faucet hisses as hot water gushes into the basin. Adora adjusts the temperature until steam rises in curling tendrils, almost scalding.

Catra flinches when Adora touches her waistband. “I can do it myself,” she growls, weakly pawing at her own pants. 

“Catra.” Adora’s voice is firm but kind. She doesn't know why she's even suggesting it. Catra could do it herself. Adora feels helpless. “Let me help.” she basically begs.

The defiance in Catra’s mismatched eyes flickers, her pride warring with exhaustion. Finally, she nods, but she refuses to look at Adora. Her eyes are instead trained on the rising water. 

Adora gently tugs off Catra’s pants, her fingers careful around the injured leg. Catra hisses in pain but doesn’t pull away, not even when Adora helps her stand and step into the hot water.  Adora steadies her as she lowers herself into the tub, her teeth clenched in pain.

The hot water envelops Catra, and she exhales sharply, her body melting against the heat. Her ears flick back as she leans against the rim, her eyes fluttering shut. The shaking doesn't completely subside but her muscles finally relax.

“You don’t have to do this,” Catra mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to,” Adora replies softly, brushing damp strands of hair from Catra’s forehead.

​​Adora rests her arms on the edge of the tub, the warm steam filling the room a stark contrast to the icy chill of Catra’s bedroom. The sound of the water sloshing gently as Catra shifts fills the silence.

Catra says nothing more, but her tail flicks lightly, brushing against Adora’s arm. Adora smiles, content to sit there in silence for a moment before breaking it.

“Can I ask you something?” Adora murmurs, relaxing into the side of the tub. She lets her fingers trail in the hot water, swirling small ripples. “Something you probably won’t want to answer?”

Catra sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, but she waves a hand lazily at Adora in a “go on” motion. The flick of her hand succeeds in sprinkling warm droplets onto Adora’s face.

Adora frowns, wiping at her cheek. “Really?”

The corner of Catra’s mouth ticks up in a barely-there smirk.

“You never liked the Horde,” Adora says. Her voice is quiet, Catra’s mismatched eyes fix on the water’s surface. “Or at least the conditions we were living in. You tried to convince me to run away with you so many times when we were cadets—”

Adora watches Catra’s face shift. The feline’s relaxed expression hardens—frustration, pain. They flicker across her features before her face smooths again. She leans back against the sloped wall of the tub, letting the water reach her neck.

“Why did you leave?” Catra asks, her gaze now trained on Adora’s fingers skating across the water.

“You can’t answer my question with another,” Adora mutters, grinding her teeth in frustration.

“You never ran away with me as cadets,” Catra replies, ignoring Adora’s protest. “You refused. Even after the way we were treated. The way I was treated.” Her voice drops, bitterness curling around her words. “You really thought they were just trying to make us stronger.”

Adora winces, pulling her fingers from the water. She runs a hand through her hair, the motion tense. “I was naive. Stupid—”

“But then sparkles and Arrow come along,” Catra interrupts again, her tone sharp. “And the minute you meet them, see them even, you start believing everything they say. Like you were just waiting for the right person to come along and show you the truth.”

“That’s not—” Adora begins, but Catra cuts her off.

“Why did you start believing them but couldn’t believe me?” Catra’s voice wavers, but her frustration is clear. Her eyes flicker up to Adora’s for a moment before darting away. “We could be anywhere right now. Living in the forest. Haggling for goods. Gods, we could even be pirates right now. And I hate boats.”

Adora doesn’t respond immediately. The silence stretches between them. She feels like she's standing on the edge of a ravine, watching the bridge to the other side tumble into the roaring rapids below. Catra stands there, on the other side, angry and snarling. When she finally speaks, her voice is thick, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What you were telling me,” Adora starts, her voice trembling, “is that I had no purpose. That what I was fighting for was evil.” She quickly wipes at her eyes. “That there was no fixing it, so we might as well leave it to rot. I didn’t want to believe that.”

Catra’s expression softens, her brows furrowing at the crack in Adora’s voice.

“They told me...” Adora continues, her voice steadier now. “They told me; we were fucked up, yeah. That we’d done bad things. But there was a way to fix it. There was something we could do. And... it was shitty of me to leave you, alright? But it was also shitty of you not to come with. A group effort of shittiness.”

The room is silent for a beat before Catra coughs, a wheezy, scratchy sound. Adora looks up, her brows knitting together in concern—only to growl when she sees the smile tugging at Catra’s lips.

“Stop laughing,” Adora grumbles, shoving a hand toward Catra’s face. “It isn’t funny.”

Catra ducks but not quickly enough, and Adora shoves her head part way under the water. In retaliation, Catra sends a wave of hot water straight into Adora’s lap, soaking her underclothes.

“Catra!” Adora whisper-yells, glaring.

“I know, I know!” Catra wheezes between barely restrained laughter. She leans on the side of the tub, her arm weakly outstretched. Her hand catches the back of Adora’s neck, pulling her closer.

Adora goes reluctantly, her eyes flickering to Catra’s chapped lips, parted in a mischievous smile.

Catra presses their foreheads together, her nose brushing against Adora’s affectionately. “We’re both kinda messed up, huh?”

“You’re way more messed up than I am,” Adora mutters, but her lips twitch as if fighting a smile.

“Don’t be stupid,” Catra retorts, her voice softening. “We’re messed up in different, but equally terrible ways.”

Adora chuckles quietly, letting her forehead rest against Catra’s. For the first time in a long while, the tension between them feels just a bit lighter.

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Year of the portal- Hour of

Catra giggles, cackles really. The shadow over her face burns and boils her cheek. She can feel her skin bubbling and the fur that is supposed to cover it singing off and ashing onto the floor.  Or what's left of the floor. 

Hordak’s sanctum is nothing but rubble now, the edges of the portal closing in on Catra and the sword behind her. 

Now Catra’s perfect world is crumbling before her. It's destroying itself far faster than the real world did at least. Catra had perfection, and Adora ruined it, like she ruins everything. 

She just had to go and be a self righteous hero.

Adora has finally turned on her. Her hope for Catra that was oh so misplaced finally sizzled out into nothing like water on a radiator. It Makes Catra laugh harder. Her self sacrificing best friend, the hero of every story, the long dead hero of hers, finally giving up? It's not a joke but it sure is funny. 

Catra presses her disintegrating hand into her burning face, hard, and revels in the stinging pain in causes. Here she is, slumped against the very portal that made her into this. She’s dying because she killed herself. She didn't know she was doing it when she pulled that lever but oh does she know now. 

Her head tips back to look at the sword. One eye has gone dark and grainy, the world of color drained of life,  but the other heightens in detail. The sword towering above her glints angrily  in the light of the portal. The sword she blamed for so much stands before her, creating a vortex that does nothing to affect her. After all, she’s already dead. 

 The sword that did nothing but finally tip the scales. Adora’s loyalty to the Horde, Catra’s loyalty to Adora. Her anger towards the world and herself. This sword is going to take the world down for her. All Catra has to do is sit and watch it happen. 

She’s dead, and the world will be too soon. It’ll take the Horde, the Rebellion and everything else that makes Catra want to scream, and rip and tear. She’ll finally know peace. 

Catra can’t just kill herself. She knows that now. Even dead the world is haunting her. She’s dead even now and the sword is still there. Taking. As it does. Its vortex may not be taking anything from Catra herself, but that is only because it ripped everything Catra had away from her before it became this black hole and started to steal from others too. 

And yet, they still want it. Glitter, arrow and the princess brigade. They’re all killing themselves as Catra did. But not to get what the sword has stolen back, but to get the sword itself. 

It makes Catra want to laugh, so she does. Why not?

That's how the queen finds her. Laughing at her own hilarious joke as she dies. The one thing everyone hates leaning against the one thing everyone wants. 

Queen Angella pauses at the entrance to Hordak's sanctum. Her wings spread out majestically behind her. She’s so put together for a woman about to kill herself. 

“Queen Angella,” Catra giggles, she can't help herself. The laugh bubbles up and out of her like an overflowing kettle. 

Catra reaches up and wraps a hand around the hilt of the sword. The act would hurt if the vortex around hadn't already taken her arm. “I was really expecting Adora to be the one to save you all. She’s always the brave one in the end isn't she? Or maybe she’s just stupid.”

“Force captain” Angella greets, she seems wary of Catra but not hostile. It's an unusual tactic, not one she expected from the mother of the girl she has abducted numerous times. Catra doesn't remember her own mother much but she does remember her death. 

A cub being stolen and driving a magicat to insanity is textbook. She’ll kill herself trying to find them. And that is exactly what Catra’s mother did. The last person who loved Catra died trying to get her back. 

How ironic that Angella is going to kill herself to get Adora’s precious sword back. To save her  daughter

Catra uses her grip on the sword to pull herself up right. She refuses to acknowledge the fact that her leg won't support her weight. She just leans heavily on the sword and smiles at the Queen. It hurts, stretches the skin the Portal has already taken from her. 

“Well are you here to save the day or not?” Catra asks with a vicious smile. If the Queen doesn't know taking the sword will kill her Catra decides she will revel in being the one to tell her the news. 

“Only trying to build the courage” the queen admits, eyeing the way Catra’s body is turning against her. The black shadows that are globbing their way up her arm and eating her skin and bone. “I usually stay in the castle rather than fight. It's been a while”

“Oh how I know it” Catra sneers, “Hordak made me do so much research trying to find your weakness only to discover you would never crawl from your castle and face him. It was such a waste of my time.”

“He made a 20 year old do his dirty work for him?” Angella asks, unconcerned with the precious time Catra is wasting. “Sounds like a heavy burden for someone so young.”

“A little hypocritical for someone who sends their 17 year old out as a general of war” Catra says, her eyebrow raising towards the Queen. “How is glitter anyway, last I saw she was falling into an endless abyss. Too bad she doesn't have nine lives to keep her alive long enough to feel herself die.”

“I'm actually quite glad about that,” Angella says, she seems to unfreeze herself from the entrance of Hordaks sanctum. She walks towards Catra not with wariness, but concern. “I wish you had been given such a mercy”

This makes Catra laugh, cackle really. The Queen of Brightmoon daining herself to feel for a lowly second in command. A Horde soldier who has all but single handedly destroyed her precious world. 

“That's rich” Catra gasps, her other hand, the one not welded to the sword of protection, wraps around her midsection as her ribs protest. “A queen so mighty showing compassion for the one who's going to kill her.”

“You say that like you're not going to try and stop me” The queen is before Catra now. Her arms limp at her sides “isn't that your job as second in command,”

“Oh I won't” Catra says, she leans towards the queen as she feels the blood drip from between her lips “I would never take the satisfaction away from a hero such as yourself.”

That doesnt have the desired reaction. Instead of a glare or self righteous speech, Queen angella bites her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looks at Catra like she knows her, knew her once upon a time. 

“What have they done to you” Angella murmurs, it freezes Catra in her place. Her giggly nature is fully cut off. The gaul to act as if she knows Catra makes anger a resentment boil in her gut. 

“You used to be so care free, so happy. I remember-”

“You know nothing about me” Catra growls, her hand tightening on the sword she wishes Angella would just take already. Get it away from her, her instincts scream like cornered farel cats, GET IT AWAY FROM HER.

“Of course I know you” Angella takes a step closer to the feline and rests her delicate hand on Catra’s cheek. “Princess D'rulith''

Catra growls, baring her teeth at the queen aggressively but she does nothing to remove the cool hand from her face. Its nothing like shadow weavers. This one is caring, loving, real. 

“You were so carefree then. When you were called that. So happy.. But then they took you, they destroyed your home.” Angella’s other hand comes to cradle Catra’s face, “and it's my fault, my fault for leaving your family defenseless. I knew they would attack Half-moon when the alliance was dismantled.”

“You deserve to have so much more than you were given” Queen angella presses her forehead to Catra's. It makes the feline's eyes widen, it makes her heart squeeze in a way it hasn't since Adora left. “I am so sorry for not stopping the horde from taking you, and I forgive you for being forced to kill me now”

Catra barks out a laugh. A laugh of shock, because of the apology and because Queen angella isn't going to die. Not today at least. But Catra sure as hell is. She’ll make sure of it. 

Forgiven. FORGIVEN? After everything she’s done? For everything she will do? Its fucking hilarious. 

She grins farrelly and swipes at the queen with her steel capped claws. They slash across her face and send the Queen reeling back in shock and pain. Catra laughs even harder as she grips the sword in both hands and rips in from the vortex. 

She would never have guessed the best revenge would be killing herself. This caring, loving Queen is going to rip herself apart over Catra’s dead body. 

Here she thought she was going to be the killer of this world.  Bring it to its knees like she never wanted to. How plans change.

How often does the villain of the story kill themselves to save it? Catra has always had a flare for the dramatic. 

How could she forget that death has never come easily to her. 

The portal steals from her faster than a pickpocket. She expected this, the pain. The loss of body mass. 

She didn't expect the queen to be ripped apart with her. Dual colored eyes widen at the scream ripped from the queen's throat. It's not the only thing dragged from her royal highness. Her wings disintegrate before Catra’s eyes. bare featherless bones now. Disintegrating into the black hole that has become the portal. 

--------)0(--------

The battle of red dirt, (just outside the Crimson Waste) PRESENT TIME!!!

It's more painful than she had imagined. Being shot, that is. Oddly, in all her time as a symbol of rebellion and hope, she had never been shot. Stabbed? Sure. Punched and kicked on a daily basis? Absolutely. But she'd always managed to avoid the searing agony of a bullet tearing through her body.

Until now.

The battle was a bad idea. A effort to reclaim some land that had gone horrible Wrong. They had assumed the Crimson Waste would be the place to start but the outskirts were crawling with Horde Soldiers when they arrived. 

Glimmer stumbles across the battlefield, every step a struggle against the sharp, fiery pain radiating from her stomach. Her hand presses against the wound, hot and sizzling, as if her own body were punishing her for her failures. Blood seeps through her fingers, sticky and relentless, flowing like an unstoppable tide. It’s not helping—nothing is. Her other arm hangs limp at her side, fingers twitching with phantom urgency to cast a spell, to do anything, but she doesn’t have the strength.

The battlefield is chaos incarnate. Smoke coils through the air, thick and acrid, stinging her eyes and lungs. It clings to her skin, mixing with the iron tang of blood that saturates the muddy ground beneath her boots. Bodies—Horde and Rebellion alike—litter the field, some twisted in death, others groaning in agony. Glimmer trips over the armored form of a fallen ally, nearly pitching forward onto her knees. She grits her teeth, swallowing a cry as the motion sends fresh waves of pain crashing through her body.

Keep moving. You don’t have time to stop.

Her vision wavers, and she swears the smoke is playing tricks on her. Shapes flicker in and out of her periphery—enemies, allies, or just her own mind fraying under the pressure? It’s impossible to tell. But she keeps going, her focus pinned on a shadowy silhouette ahead. Bow. It has to be Bow. His outline is unmistakable—tall and steady, a beacon in the chaos.

"Bow," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of clashing metal and desperate cries. The name is a lifeline, tethering her to something solid amidst the haze of despair threatening to pull her under. Please be Bow. I can’t do this without you.

Her thoughts spiral as she trudges forward. Adora would know what to do. Adora always knew what to do. Strong, determined, unyielding—Adora had been their rock, their guiding light. Without her, every battle felt heavier, every loss sharper. Glimmer feels the weight of the rebellion’s failures pressing down on her, suffocating in its intensity. She’s supposed to lead, to inspire, but all she can think about is how much easier this fight—this war—would be if Adora were here.

Her steps falter, knees buckling as the blood loss saps her strength. She bites down on a scream, tasting copper, and pushes forward. She has to reach him. Bow is out there, she’s sure of it. He has to be. If she can just find him, maybe everything won’t seem so hopeless. Maybe she can hold on a little longer.

Finally, the silhouette takes shape, and for a fleeting moment, relief floods through her. It’s him. She’s certain it’s him. She sees his familiar frame, the curve of his bow slung over his shoulder, and her lips part to call his name again—but her voice fails her. The world tilts, her vision darkening at the edges.

Through the smoke, another figure emerges. Glimmer blinks, disoriented, as the image of Bow wavers and dissolves. In his place stands Octavia, her one good eye widening in shock.

"Glimmer," Octavia sneers, her voice sharp and taunting as she draws a blade. "What a surprise to find you stumbling around like a wounded animal."

Glimmer forces herself upright, her body screaming in protest. "Stay back," she warns, her voice weak but laced with defiance. Her fingers twitch, summoning the faintest glimmer of her magic—a spark of light that flickers unsteadily in her palm.

Octavia doesn’t hesitate. She lunges forward, her blade slashing through the air. Glimmer reacts on instinct, raising her hand and releasing a pulse of light magic. The blast is weak, unfocused, but it’s enough to knock Octavia back a step. Glimmer stumbles, nearly falling, as the effort drains what little energy she has left.

Octavia recovers quickly, a snarl on her lips. "That’s all you’ve got? Pathetic." She rushes Glimmer again, but this time Glimmer teleports, the movement sloppy and short-ranged. She reappears a few feet away, collapsing to one knee as the wound in her stomach tears further.

The pain is blinding, and Glimmer struggles to focus. She raises her hand again, conjuring another burst of light, but it sputters out before it even forms. Her magic is failing her, just like her body.

Octavia looms over her now, her blade poised. "Looks like this is the end, Princess," she says, her tone mocking but laced with satisfaction.

With a desperate cry, Glimmer summons the last of her strength, releasing a blinding flash of light. Octavia curses, stumbling back, her blade dropping as she shields her eye. The effort leaves Glimmer completely spent. Her vision tunnels, the world around her fading to black.

The last thing she feels is Octavia’s arms grabbing her roughly, pulling her limp body from the ground. The battlefield noise fades into silence, and Glimmer slips into unconsciousness, the fight lost.

--------)0(--------

One day later

The hover skiff rattled to a stop in the shadow of the prison, its engine sputtering before falling silent. The building loomed ahead, a foreboding structure of jagged metal and cracked stone. Pipes curled around its exterior like the talons of some great beast, belching out thick, acrid smoke that darkened the sky.

Cubsy flattens her hands on the windowsill and smashes her face against the glass, chittering. Her eyes are trained on the smoke escaping the pipes of the Frigthzone.. 

The prison isn’t far from the Fright Zone but far enough for a quick hover skiff ride. These ones have seats and windows and enough space to fit at least thirty people. Today it’s just her and her cub. 

Cubsy is overjoyed by the road trip, her chittering hasn’t stopped since she bounced up the stairs to the bus, her hand firmly planted in Catra’s as the older woman helped the cub up the steps.

Cubsy keeps looking out the window and then back up at Catra as if she’s asking Catra “.you see this too, girl?” her eyes wide with wonder and excitement. The baby lives for road trips. Or for an outing. Catra can't really tell. 

When Catra parks the cargo skiff she places Cubsy down on the floor and crouches before her, hands held firmly in her own.

“Cubsy?” Catra asks, sitting fully down on the skiff to aleve the pressure on her leg and hip. “Rrrbt?” the cub trills, her eyes trained wide and concerned on Catra’s. Her little baby onesie bunching up around the baby's ankles. 

“I need you to be on your best behavior for Mrs. Sparkles, ok?” Catra gives Cubsy an expectant look and the kit’s face shifts into one of pure delight. She giggles and bops her knees up and down. 

“You can do that for me?” Catra asks, a smile splitting her face. Cubsy nods her head in what could be agreement or anything else reaches her hands in the air. She wants to be held. Catra chuckles and lifts the kit into her arms, rubbing her cheek to the cub’s temple and giving her a quick kiss between the ears. 

“Good girl” Catra murmurs, before grabbing ahold of the driver seat and lifting herself to her feet with a groan. She really does have to stop adopting strays. Lonnie is right, no matter how much Catra hates to say it. Here she is at the pound looking at another rapid dog to bring home. 

The prison’s interior was worse than its exterior. The walls oozed with condensation, and the air smelled of rust and decay. Water dripped steadily from unseen cracks, the sound echoing through the dark corridors. Each step Catra took felt heavier than the last as she descended deeper into the bowels of the building, her cane tapping a rhythm against the slick stone floor. Guards flinched as she passed, their uniforms ill-fitting and their eyes wide with unease

In other words the prison is just as bad as every other miserable building in the Fright Zone. 

The soldiers guarding the place are young enough to believe most of Catra’s horrible rumors. When they see her they straighten, almost dropping their helmets and standing at attention. Neither of them seem to notice the cub tucking her head into Catra’s peach furred neck.

“At ease, I'm just here on a house call” Catra leans heavily on her cane and flashes the badge on her hip at them. It doesn't seem to calm the soldiers' nerves at all.  

Catra sees her own face pinned to the bulletin board behind the cadets. A younger version where she is all smiles. The paper it's printed on is peeling, old. The last government notice is pinned next to it, the one passed for health care and better working conditions.

 They must not have gotten to drawing a mustache and devil horns on her yet. 

“Yes Force Captain Catra, sir- ma'am-, sir” the soldier behind the counter stammers, his face slowly turning redder.

“Yeah” Catra mutters, turning away from both soldiers and stalking down the hall.  

A joyful cackle reaches Catra’s ears as she stumbles away, and a hurried and whispered, “dude you stammered like you just met your grade school crush” disturbs the quiet hallway. 

Catra takes her time limping down the first set of stairs, avoiding the gazes of the rebels locked behind the first set of bars. They smile at her as if she’s here to save them. Catra shields Cubsy from their eyes and limps just a bit quicker down the darkening hallway. 

The door at the end is easy to open. It's not even locked. She should have guessed that those blundering guards wouldn't follow safety precautions. 

Catra slips into the room without going back to ream them. Catra needs a break from all the pleading eyes down here. Townspeople who mistook her mercy as kindness and rioted one too many times. 

The balcony before the last set of stairs is where Catra takes a breath. She sits her cub down on the top step of the stairs and crutches before her. Ignoring the way her hip squeals in protest. Cubsy, confused, looks up at her with cute blue eyes.

“I'm going to go down there and speak with an old friend, ok?” Cubsy smiles toothly and nods, her hands firmly gripping one of Catra’s. “When I call your name, I want you to come down the stairs and introduce yourself”

Cubsy's tail flips behind her excitedly and with what Catra assumes in a little bit of nervousness. Catra takes that as a ‘yes, I'm very excited’. The cubs' excitement for the drama is contagious and Catra can't help but snarl in a way that matches the kit's smile. 

She leans down and gives her cub a quick kiss between the eyes and a comforting trill before leaving her where she can see her from the bottom of the cellar. . 

Catra smiles as she walks down the few steps, one hand gripping the rusting railing and the other leaving heavily on her cane.  Princess Glimmer is already in view, sitting sullenly on her mildewy cot. 

Seeing Glitter again makes her a little giddy. It's been ages since she got to tease the girl, now a woman. Playing with prey is one of the best baser instincts after all. 

At the end of the hall, Glimmer sat on a damp cot, her wrists shackled and her eyes dull with fatigue. Her body shakes seemingly uncontrollably. Catra can't tell if she's really awake or not.

She didn't know how much she missed it until her Glittered face comes into view. Glimmer obviously didn't miss it nearly as much because when she sees the magicat her face slackens significantly. 

“Holy Hordak, you fucking shit bag” Glimmer murmurs, just loud enough for Catra to hear. The magicat doesn't really know what that means or where it came from but she can't help but smirk.

“Pleasure to see you again, Sparkles,” Catra limps closer to the glittery Princess with a smile and a wink. “It's been a long time, don't you think?”

“You're alive” is all Glimmer says, her hands falling limp onto the bed. Catra has expected more screaming and blaming. This was… better?

“I'm just as surprised as you, Glitter. I was really hoping that portal would take at least one of us out. You know what they say, this world isn't big enough for the both of us” Catra says this in a cheesy country accent. She doesn't really know where it came from but there is no going back now. She really has to stop doing the voices when she reads those books to Cubsy. 

“How-”

Catra chortles and taps her forehead, smirking wider at the princess. “Cats have nine lives.” Catra looks down at her damaged leg hidden underneath her regulation cargos. “I may have left a little something or other back in my last one.” she wiggles her foot at the princess. 

“You've been alive this whole time and what?” Glimmer is getting back a little of the outrage Catra remembers. It makes her look more like herself. She’s changed in the last few years. Her hair is different, so is her attitude. She’s calmer, more collected. “You've been working for the Horde? This whole damn time!?”

Glimmer growls and stands from her cot, hands on her hips. “No wonder the horde has been winning! You've been designing the damn battles to your every fucking whim. I should have known!”

“Is that pride I detect?” Catra asks, her hand going over her heart as she takes a step closer towards the princess. “You think so highly of me? And here I thought you hated me. I did kill your mother after all”

Catra hadn't really meant to mention her murder of the late queen of Brightmoon. It might be a touchy subject to bring up with her soon to be baby sitter. 

“Kill her?! Kill her?” Glimmer screeches, her hands raising to the sky, her special cuffs clicking and clacking from their spot around her ankles. “Of course, Of Course! here you are after saving the whole damn universe”

Catra leans back on her cane and lets the show play. She expected more spitting and less childish outrage. 

“It is so fucking on brand for you to do all that and then, AND THEN. go right back to the Horde!”

“After destroying it” Catra adds. She has to make sure everyone understands that part. “The universe that is” 

“You live! Like a roach!” Glimmer glances down at Catra’s bum leg. “Barely” Glimmer continues undeterred, “and then, you go on and save a bunch of Horde soldiers trying to escape.” 

“That was mostly just for Scorpia, '' Catra admits, leaning on her cane and taking some of the pressure off her leg. “So they made it? I was hoping they would die out there. Give Scorpia a bit of a get away distraction. I should've known though, that bug really is such a bleeding heart”. 

“I was hoping you had died doing one last good deed” Glimmer growls in response, stalking towards the bars of her cage. Catra raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “It's so disappointing to know your nothing but the same horrible person you've always been”

Disappointing. The word makes Catra’s skin crawl. Her fur stands on end. She tries not to show it on her face. 

Catra chuckles and smiles at the princess. “That's me,” she murmurs, raising a hand in a jazz-like motion. Glimmer sneers and kicks at the bars. 

“Well, What do you want, franken leg? '' she asks,  crossing her arms. “To laugh one more time at your little mind games before they execute me. I must say you’ve really been playing the long con, with all this saving and then destroying and then saving”

“I was hoping to be the bearer of shocking news.” 

“They usually say bad news” Glimmer raises an eyebrow.

I don't think this will be particularly bad for you” Catra turns from the bars of Glimmer's enclosure and runs a hand through her hair. “Your little blondie with the sword lives…. Barely” Catra mocks the way Glimmer had said it about her. Glinting her canines purposefully in the dull lighting. 

Glimmer froze, her breath catching. “What?”

“You heard me,” Catra said, her tone casual. “She’s alive. Didn’t think I’d let her go that easily, did you?”

“Where is she?” Glimmer demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and fury.

Catra’s smirk returned, sharper now. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You monster,” Glimmer hissed, stepping closer to the bars. “If you’ve hurt her—”

“Hurt her?” Catra interrupted, feigning offense. “Please. She’s… safe. Safer than you, at least.

Glimmer’s fists clenched, but before she could respond, Catra spoke again, her tone turning serious. "I didn’t come here to trade insults, Sparkles. I came to offer you a deal."

Glimmer raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in her tired eyes. “A deal? What could you possibly have to offer? No, better question—what could I possibly have to offer? The rebellion is losing. Why do you even need a deal?”

I tend to agree more in a society that isn't burning a hole in the ozone layer.” Catra coughs, “But I’ve worked here in this fine establishment for a lifetime, and let’s just say…” She glanced around as if the decaying walls might overhear her. “The Horde needs some tweaking if anyone hopes to survive after this war.”

Glimmer scowled, slackening against the moldy cot. “I don’t know what that has to do with me. I can’t change a damn thing after the Horde wins.

“Fortunately for you, the Horde won’t win. Not if you play your cards right.” Catra growls quietly. Her eyes flitting to the staircase she stumbled down. She knows her guards are up the stairs and standing at attention next to her skiff, but the feeling of constantly being watched never leaves her. 

“You… Force Captain of the fucking four directions, planning a coup?” Glimmer asks, confused. “After all these years? Why?”

“Less a coup, more an act of treason,” Catra mumbled. “We both know if the Horde wins, Etheria doesn’t stand a chance. Personally, I plan on buying a nice estate in the middle of nowhere after this shitshow, but there won’t be any forest left to enjoy once Hordak’s done.”

“You want to overthrow your entire life for the environment?” Glimmer asked incredulously, folding her arms as much as the chains allowed. “Yeah, right. I don’t believe that for a second.”

Catra grits her teeth. Her thumb pressed harshly into her cane. “Not entirely for the environment” She takes a deep breath, her tail lashing behind her. The words came out low, reluctant. “Cubsy, will you come down here, please?”

The sound of tiny nails clicking against stone softens Catra’s snarl instinctively.

When Catra turns to look, Cubsy is perched excitedly at the top of the staircase, gripping the railing with small hands too tiny to wrap around the bars. Slowly, she made her way down, a smile lighting her face.

Catra’s own lips curved into a real, unguarded smile. “Good job,” she murmured, her voice trilling . “Very good job.”

Cubsy runs over to her, hands and feet slapping against the floor. The top button of her onesie is undone, and Catra crouches to fix it, muttering under her breath, “Can’t have your grand entrance ruined by a costume malfunction.”

The cub rubbed her head against Catra’s neck as the feline scooped her up, her expression softening further. Catra gives Cubsy a scratch under the ear,

“What the fuck-”

“Language,” Catra scolds, her eyes narrowing as she leans heavily on her cane. She raises a brow at Glimmer, the edge of a smirk playing on her lips.

Glimmer, however, is not deterred. “Holy—”

Catra rolls her eyes and kicks the bars of Glimmer's cell, making the princess jump. The sound echoes in the damp, stifling air, and Glimmer glares at her.

“Language,” Catra sings, a teasing lilt to her voice. The playful note makes Cubsy giggle, and Catra’s smirk deepens.

Glimmer’s eyes narrow with disbelief. “You have a kid!? What crazy lunatic would knock you up?”

“For your information,” Catra begins, rocking Cubsy gently in her arms, “she’s adopted.” She flicks an ear at the cub, as if to say, This bitch . Cubsy chirps in response, nuzzling her face into Catra’s neck. Catra glances down at the cub, a rare moment of softness in her gaze. “But she is no less mine.”

“That makes even less sense,” Glimmer mutters, throwing her arms up in exasperation. She slumps back onto her cot, her chains rattling as she collapses in defeat. “I have no idea why anyone, even the Horde, would let you near children.”

Cubsy, oblivious to the tension, rubs her head against Catra’s chin before peering curiously over her shoulder at the princess. Glimmer, despite her situation, melts into a moment of awe. Her mouth opens slightly as she gazes at the baby.

“Oh, I see it now,” Glimmer murmurs, her tone shifting.

Catra tilts her head, her lips curling into a playful smirk. “I came here to make an offer. And, just so we’re clear, I trust you just barely more than I trust the Horde. There’s a chance we might be able to turn the tides in our favor... together.”

“You’re starting to warm up to me, huh?”

Catra hesitates but reluctantly moves toward Glimmer, her eyes glinting with sharp amusement. “I trust you not to murder a helpless baby, yes.” she admits, her hand tapping the skeleton key hanging from her belt. She glances up at Glimmer “I assume the requirements for becoming a princess are ‘kissing babies’ and ‘protecting the people’ so this seemed to be right in your field house.”

“Catra, I'm honored” Glimmer says, 

Catra flicks the key in her hand, watching it jangle as it catches the dim light in the room. Her voice lowers, taking on a more serious tone. “we need to move quickly. The Horde's control over this place is slipping. More like Hordak has gone insane and almost everyone can tell. There’s an opportunity—if you’re willing to take it.”

Glimmer gives her a skeptical look. “What kind of opportunity? You think I’ll just walk out of here with you?”

“I didn’t come here to trade insults, Sparkles. I’m not offering you a way to destroy the Horde but a way out ,” Catra responds, her expression hardening. She takes a deep breath before her voice drops, conspiratorial. “The skiff hold. I know where it is. You can escape.”

Glimmer’s eyes widen slightly, her brow furrowing with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

Catra glances around, her eyes narrowing as she scans the shadows of the room, though no one is there to overhear. “The Horde Isn't going to win, Glimmer. No one really wants it to. I really don't want it to. I just wan't you, and all of your powerful Princess friends, on my side when this place goes to shit”

Glimmer rolls her eyes, hands on the bars of her enclosure. "There you go again. You're like a roach. You still want power even after the Horde falls"

Catra frowns and pouts. "But I'v already given you such juicy information." Catra says, "Adora is alive. The Horde is on the brink of a power vacuum. this is your chance to take your ragtag group of buddies and do some damage" Catra tilts her head, pretending to ponder. "I didn't take you for someone who gave up so easily."'

Glimmer growls. hands tightening till they're white. "you want immunity?" she asks. 

"I want to be forgotten when this is all said and done. I don't want to be bothered, contacted, tried for war crimes. I want to never have existed" 

Glimmer eyes her, brows furrowing. She starting to think that maybe Adora was right. Catra was never motivated by glory. Or maybe she's trying to save her own skin from being called the "Horde's destroyer" in the history books. 

Catra raises and eyebrow and Glimmer, finally, nods. She doesn't open her mouth, she knows she'll just start arguing with the soldier.

“Theres a shift change every morning, early. The guards walk in a pattern that repeats. You read the pattern correctly and you have over ten minutes of peace and quiet. That’s when you’ll move.”

Catra steps closer to Glimmer, her voice lowering even further. “I’m giving you the key to one of the skiffs.. That’s your ticket out. But make sure no one follows you.”

She pauses, watching Glimmer’s reaction closely. The princess is silent for a long moment before she speaks again, her voice quiet but sharp. “And you expect me to just take this and go? What's the catch?”

“No catch. You leave the fright zone. I cover it up for as long as I can to give you time,” Catra says, her tone cold. “when the war is over it'll be like this never happened." 

Glimmer stares at Catra, her mind clearly racing. Finally, she shakes her head. “Why are you helping me? After everything—after what you’ve done to my people, my mother—why would you ever help me? The Horde is winning. you stick it out and I'm sure Hordak will save a little piece of paradise for you”

Catra’s jaw tightens, and she looks away for a moment. Then, her gaze snaps back to Glimmer, her expression unreadable. “Let’s just say... I’ve had enough of the Horde’s way of doing things.” Her voice lowers, the words heavy with meaning. “And maybe... maybe it’s time I finally start making some of my own choices.

--------)0(--------

Catra’s office was dimly lit, the flickering lamp casting jagged shadows across the cluttered desk. Papers were strewn everywhere—maps, dossiers, scrawled notes barely legible through smudged ink. She hunched over the chaos, her ears twitching in agitation as she stuffed files into a worn side bag. Her cane leans precariously against the edge of the desk.

She had gotten back from her excursion with Cubsy in a frenzy. Muttering about getting on Hordak's good side, just for a little bit. Scouring her books of secrets for information. 

“You have to give me something here, Adora,” Catra grumbled, her voice low and sharp. Her tail lashed behind her as she rifled through the mess, grabbing an atlas and shoving it into the bag with more force than necessary.

Adora sat cross-legged on the narrow cot, her arms folded defiantly. “I’m not spilling anything,” she shot back, her glare unwavering. “You can threaten me all you want, but—”

“It doesn’t have to be about the rebellion!” Catra interrupted, her voice rising in frustration. She paused, exhaling sharply through her nose, and turned to face Adora. “Just give me something Hordak will be happy with. Vacated set points, old safe houses no one uses anymore—anything!”

Adora hesitated, her defiance flickering. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m running out of time,” Catra snapped, glancing up at the clock mounted crookedly on the wall. Her expression betrayed a flicker of something—fear? Desperation?—before she turned away to shove the last of her papers into the bag. The clock ticked loudly in the tense silence.

She grabbed her cane, limping toward Adora’s cot with uneven steps. When she stopped in front of her, the tension in the room felt suffocating.

“Do you like living, Adora?” Catra asked, her voice quiet now, almost too soft.

Adora blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yes,” she said cautiously.

“I do too.” Catra crouched slightly, bringing her face level with Adora’s. Her golden eyes gleamed with a mix of urgency and something more vulnerable, something raw. “So give me something to work with.”

Adora stared at her, searching for some hint of the ruthless Force Captain that tore her claws down She-ra’s back. But all she saw was Catra, shoulders taut with stress, the smallest tremor in her hand gripping the cane.

“I—” Adora hesitated, her voice faltering. She bit her lip, torn between her principles and the obvious strain etched into Catra’s every movement.

“I don’t have time for this,” Catra muttered, straightening abruptly. She turned back to her desk, her tail flicking sharply behind her. “If you want to keep breathing, think of something. Because if I show up empty-handed, we’re both screwed.”

Adora watched as Catra threw on her coat and slung the bag over her shoulder. “It's cute that you want to keep me alive"

Catra’s ears flattened for half a second before she smirked, a forced, crooked grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Adora. I’m just using you for leverage.”

Adora can still read the lines of Catra’s tail. On emotion makes it flip back and forth just as it's doing now. 

Adora didn’t respond right away, her eyes tracking the way Catra’s ears twitched and her shoulders stiffened. The pacing wasn’t just agitation—it was embarrassment. Catra was trying to mask her emotions, but Adora could see through her. She always could

Adora didn’t press the point, though the flicker of something unspoken radiated off Catra. The feline wouldn’t admit it, not now. Maybe not ever.

“It can be anything?” Adora asked after a beat, her voice quieter this time. Her hand continued its soothing motion over Cubsy’s back.

“Anything,” Catra confirmed, stopping her pacing to face Adora fully. Her golden eyes locked onto Adora’s, sharp and expectant.

Adora hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat. “There’s an outpost. We left it right before I was captured—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Catra interrupted, a grin breaking across her face. She stepped closer, the tension in her posture softening. “Where is it?”

Adora hesitated again, her heart sinking at the sight of Catra’s eager expression. But she answered, her voice steady, “North of Dryl. Just past the Ridge.”

Catra’s smiles widely, her tail whipping happily as she jots what Adora said down, a pencil circling a general area near dryl. Adora is sure that the abandoned hideout is no wher near there.

“It’s empty, though,” Adora said, her fingers idly carving gentle paths through Cubsy’s fur. The cub stirred slightly in her sleep, a small chirp escaping her lips before settling again. “It won’t help anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Catra admitted, her voice low but resolute as she tucked the map into her satchel. “As long as Hordak thinks I’m getting something out of you, you’re worth having around.”

“Am I?” Adora’s question came quietly, almost a whisper. Her gaze dropped to the cub beside her, her expression softening as she brushed a strand of fur away from Cubsy’s face. “Because it seems like I’m only causing you trouble. Giving her trouble. Keeping me around just because you like me is idiotic.”

"your an idiot, Adora" Catra mutters, tilting her head to the side and watching the blonde pet a hand down the baby's back. "There's a lot of stuff you just wouldn't understand." Catra frowns "Don't follow me this time" she growls, Adora looks up when Catra closes the door behind her. 

Adora had made the habit of breaking out of the small room when Catra left. The place was making her claustrophobia. she had no doubt it was effecting CUbsy the same way. The baby Never failed to trill happily when Adora managed to pick the lock. 

She's standing outside Catra's meeting room door by lunch. The lock to Catra's room in her pocket, in pieces. It had been a bit harder to figure out how to open it this time. She had taken a lamp to the door knob instead. 

Adora taps her foot, her heel grounding unusually hard against the thick metal floor of the Frightzone. Cubsy chirps happily in her arms, her teeth gnawing on the pacifier in her mouth.

Adora smiles despite her frustration. The baby reaches up, her tiny hands brushing against Adora’s face. Adora can't help but relent, letting the cub rub her scent against her cheek.

“You are absolutely adorable,” Adora whispers, holding Cubsy a little tighter. She glances up and down the hallway, ensuring no one is watching. “I might be in love with you.”

Cubsy giggles, slapping her hand against Adora’s arm, her face breaking into a smile around her pacifier. Adora grins back, bouncing the baby gently.

“Don’t you tell anyone, alright?” Adora whispers playfully. “It’s our little secret.”

Suddenly, a hand lands on her arm, causing Adora to jump, her heart racing. She turns and throws a punch, weak and slow, her muscles drained and her cuts pulling painfully.

The guard—only one, the other nowhere in sight—grabs her fist mid-air. Their eyes widen behind the green haze of their helmet. Adora yanks her hand away as hard as she can, barely managing to break free.

“Don’t sneak up on someone like that!” Adora growls, wrapping her arm protectively around the now quiet Cubsy. She bounces her on her hip, trying to calm her. “What do you want?”

“Ms. Adora.”

The voice is strange. Adora’s eyes widen. She’s never heard the guards speak before—not in the weeks she’s been here. It felt more likely she’d hear Catra say "I'm sorry" than hear that .

The guard continues, undeterred. “It is best we get inside.”

The guard tries to grab Adora’s arm but she ducks out of the way. 

I'm waiting for Catra,” Adora retorts, “she’s been avoiding coming back to her room” Adora frowns, “When I'm awake at least.”

“It is best we head inside,” the guard insists, grabbing Adora’s arm firmly this time. He pulls them both toward a door to her right.

Adora yanks her arm back. “I’m not going anywhere,” she mutters. But the guard is persistent, opening the door and pulling her inside.

It’s a supply closet.

Adora rolls her eyes. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I do happen to kill people who kidnap me and try to assault me.”

The guard steps back, clearly taken aback. “Apologies, Ms. Adora—”

“Stop calling me that,” Adora interrupts, her voice clipped, frustration bubbling up

it is best we stay quiet, Ms... Adora. For your safety.”

“Why-”

The guard covers Adora’s mouth, which sends a spark of anger through her frayed nerves. Then she hears it. Footsteps clunking down the hall. One of which leaned heavily on their cane and dragging with a rhythmic thud. 

Cubsy, sensing Adora’s tension, tucks her tiny head against Adora’s shoulder, instinctively seeking comfort.

Adora presses her back against the door, her breath steadying as she peers through a small crack. The faint light spilling from the hallway shows only emptiness, but the sound of the footsteps draws closer. 

“So you're useless as always” a voice that sounds suspiciously like Hordak growls. 

“As I said Lord Hordak-”

A slap echoes through the hall, it makes Cubsy whimper and the thunking of a cane stop in its tracks. 

Adora is a little surprised, she would have taken Hordak as more of a choking type. A slap seems childish. 

“You’ve given me nothing but an empty rebel outpost. I’m wasting time and resources on you and your little pet projects, I'm starting to think your not worth keep around,”

“Then kill me” Catra growls, her voice a threat. Adora reaches for the closet handle, her fingers barely brushing the metal before a strong hand grabs hers. Adora nearly yells at the guard, but she looks in the girl's eyes behind the bask and freezes. The helmet shakes in a “no” motion. "you haven't thought I'm worth keeping around since the portal" 

“Maybe I will” a thud echoes through the hallway. A cane hitting the floor. “I never thought you were worth keeping around. But I would hate to take the pleasure away from my exalted brother. Once he hears about your transgressions-.”

“Blah blah blah” Catra sounds annoyed, the creaking of her brace screeching across the hallway. “I've been waiting five years for your holier than thou exalted brother. I'm starting to think he doesn't exist. You keep me around because you know that without me, the Horde is a shit bucket. You’d be six feet under without-”

A choking noise breaks through the thick atmosphere. 

“And I think you're planning a coo. I think you think you're smarter than me. That you can undermine me.” the thud and creaking of Catra being shoved against a wall. The sound of Catra slumping to the floor tightens Adora’s fists. 

“You have a week” Hordak straightens his armor and steps into view of the closet. If he turned now, Adora has no doubt he would see her peering through. 

“Then I'm killing your little rebel friend. She's worth more to me as a martyr than she ever will be as a prisoner. She'll be dead sooner if you can't get anything useful out of her. I would try harder to extend her life if I were you.”

“Yes, Lord Hordak,” Catra croaks, her voice scratchy, nearly gone. 

“Get out of my sight” Hordal growls, Catra scrambles to her feet.  

The Guard keeps Adora from exiting the Closet until Catra and Hordak are long gone. Not even their footsteps echoing along the hallways. Adora rushes down the hallway in hopes of cutting Catra off before she can run off. but when Adora gets back to their room, Catra is nowhere to be found. 

--------)0(--------

--------)0(--------

Catra’s eyes flickered open to an empty void, a swirling darkness that stretched endlessly in every direction. The silence pressed on her ears, thick and suffocating, as if the world itself was holding its breath. She wasn’t sure how she got here. 

She recognizes this place.

“Adora?” Catra called out instinctively. Her voice echoed, faint and fragile against the oppressive quiet. She didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to let that name slip past her lips, but it was as if her subconscious had betrayed her. Adora was the first thing on her mind and the last thing she wanted out of her mouth. 

The void shifted. The blankness glitched, the floor holding Catra’s feet trembled. In the distance, a faint light blinked into existence, flickering like a dying star. It blinded catra, but the light was what she needed to see her hellish appearance. Her arm was engulfed in glitching void. Her eye flickering to life and then blacking out. 

She was in the portal, again. Her leg made of darkness instead of threaded muscle.

Against her better judgment, Catra began to move toward the light and away from the darkness. Maybe it was instinct. Catra believes its fate. Maybe this time it will kill her. Each step felt heavier than the last, her limbs dragging as though she was wading through water. 

shapes began to form through the blinding brightness—familiar shapes that made her chest tighten.

She was standing in the Horde’s training grounds, but it wasn’t quite right. The edges of the room bled into the same darkness she’d just left, like a poorly drawn memory trying to fill itself in. The smell of metal and sweat lingered faintly in the air, but it was muted, distorted. Catra’s ears twitched at the sound of laughter, and her heart clenched when she recognized it.

Adora.

Catra turned sharply, and there she was. Adora, standing in the center of the room, her golden hair catching the dim light like a halo. She looked just as she had when they were kids, her wide blue eyes sparkling with innocence and determination. But something was off. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and there was a hollowness to her that Catra couldn’t quite place.

“Adora?” Catra whispered again, her voice trembling.

Adora turned to face her fully, and the smile faded. “Why do I have to need you to love you?” she said, her tone devoid of warmth. The words hit Catra like a punch to the gut. She staggered back, her breath hitching.

“What?” Catra managed to choke out. “What do you mean?”

Adora took a step closer, and the room shifted again. The walls of the training grounds dissolved, replaced by the fractured memories of their childhood. There was the bunk they used to share, the secret spots they’d hide in during breaks, the places where they’d laughed and played and whispered promises of always sticking together. But now, everything was distorted. The colors bled into one another, and the air felt wrong—too hot, too cold, too heavy.

“You never made it easy,” Adora said, her voice echoing unnaturally. “You never let me in, not really. You pushed and pushed until I had nothing left.”

“That’s not true!” Catra shouted, her claws flexing. “You’re the one who left! You left me!”

Adora tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Did I leave? Or did you push me away?”

Catra’s chest heaved as anger and desperation warred within her. “I needed you! You were the only one who ever—” She stopped herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You were supposed to stay.”

Adora’s gaze softened, but it only made the ache in Catra’s heart worse. “I needed you to love me the way I loved you,” Catra growled. “But you couldn’t! Not the way- not the way I wanted.”

The scene shifted again, violently this time. The ground beneath Catra’s feet gave way, and she was falling, tumbling through the darkness. She clawed at the air, her heart pounding as she tried to find something—anything—to hold onto. The void swallowed her whole, and then she was standing in the middle of the portal.

The world around her was a kaleidoscope of chaos, shards of reality splintering and collapsing in on themselves. The pain was immediate and all-consuming, a searing fire that burned through her very being. She screamed, clutching her head as the portal tore at her, pulling her apart piece by piece.

Adora was there, standing just out of reach, her expression one of heartbreak and determination. “Catra, stop this!” she shouted over the roar of the collapsing reality.

“Why should I?” Catra spat, her voice raw with pain and anger. A figment of the pain she felt all those years ago. One she had come to terms with in the years since. “You left me! You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore!”

Adora took a step closer, her hand outstretched. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I couldn’t keep hurting others. I wanted to help people!”

The words cut deeper than the portal’s claws. Catra staggered back, her vision blurring as tears streamed down her face. “You’re lying,” she whispered. “You’re lying.”

“Catra,” Adora said, her voice breaking. Her hands snatched out a grabbed catra buy the shoulders, violently shaking. “Please. Come back with me. I love you. I always have.”

Catra gasped, sitting violently up in bed, narrowly avoiding smashing her forehead into Adora’s. The blonde is kneeling over her in bed. Hands wrapped around Catra's shoulders. 

“It's just a dream,” the blond mutters. 

Catra’s breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to process where she was. She had gotten back late. staying up with Lonnie in the weapons department. Falsifying records. Adora had been asleep when she got back. She hadn't snuck out of the room but the bolt on the door was gone. So was the handle. Maybe it was late by the time Adora was able to break it. 

Catra is still trembling, the echoes of the portal’s pain lingering in her muscles. They spasm like they're being electrocuted. twitching beneath false skin.

She avoided looking directly at Adora, afraid of what she might see—or worse, what Adora might see in her. "I'm Fine"

“Fine? You were thrashing around like you were being attacked,” Adora said, her tone sharp with worry. “And you were crying”

Catra roughly wipes her hands across her face, turning on her side and away from Adora. 

I’m fine!” Catra snapped, the words coming out harsher than she intended. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, putting distance between them. “It was just a stupid dream.” she muttered. Adora watches Catra stumble to her feet. Watches her pace around the small room. Like a tiger locked in a cage. she slinks around like maybe the next time she turns around the wall won't be there and she can walk right out. 

"run away with me" Adora says, it's out of her mouth before she can process the thought. 

"What?" Catra asks, theirs a lilt to her voice as if it's funny. As If Adora is making a joke. Adora shifts in the bed, pulling the blanket off of herself. 

“Why do you stay? Let's escape. Me, you and Cubsy.” Adora Stans from the bed, the distance between them shrinking. she stands just behind Catra, her warmth radiates toward Catra’s back.

"you wan't to run away?" Catra laughs, thoughts straying to the watch towers, the skiffs. The prisoner who's making her escape today. The princess who's depending on Catra to play her part in covering it up. 

Catra’s hands trembled as she opens the middle drawer of the cabinet. She stares inside, her expression hidden from Adora, though her tail flicked anxiously. “I can’t go anywhere with you, Adora.” Her voice was flat, but each word carried a weight that made Adora flinch. Catra’s hands close around her stun gun. “There's no escape for me.”

“You'll die here. We'll die here.”

I will die here.” Catra agrees. She turns and presses her forehead into Adora’s, hard. “But you don’t have to.”

Her breath mingled with Adora’s, and for a moment, the room felt unbearably still. Then Catra is pressing electricity into Adora's side. 

--------)0(--------

Glimmer pressed her back against the cool stone wall, eyes narrowing as she watched the distant silhouette of the rotating guards. She watches their shadows dance across the dripping walls.

Her mind replayed the conversation with Catra, sharp and laden with tension. Catra had made it clear—there was no going back. Glimmer had to escape. She had to be the one to take that chance. After all, Catra had already broken the lock on the prison door. She had done the risky part of giving Glimmer an out.

The plan was simple: after the fifteenth guard shift, the schedule would break.

She peered through the bars of the high window where the rotating guards marched, unblinking, their voices echoing across the empty hall. With each click of their boots against the cobblestone courtyard, the countdown continued. One more shift... then it would be time.

Glimmer’s heart thudded in her chest, louder than any of the guards' steps. She knew the risk. She knew the danger. Catra had warned her—if she stayed too long, if she hesitated even for a moment, the opportunity would slip away..

One by one, the guards made their rounds, the clanking of their weapons the only sound in the still night. Fifteen rotations.

When it came time for the break—when they were all distracted, complacent, Glimmer would slip past them, unseen, unheard. She could already picture the quiet freedom waiting just outside the fortress walls.

She couldn't. She hadn't told Catra that. She had let the feline leave believe Glimmer would run quiet. Glimmer couldn't. 

She had to find Adora. She was here and alive and Glimmer wasn't about to leave her behind. She had already broken Adora's sword. She had already taken Adora's power from her. 

Glimmer's heart skipped a beat as the last silhouette of the guard vanished beyond the crumbling walls of the prison, swallowed by the night.

She didn’t hesitate.

she pulls the key from her waistband and sticks it in the lock. jiggling intil the gears slide together and the door pops open with a statisfuing 'click' 

The cold, iron door groaned on its hinges as if reluctant to let her go, but Glimmer was already halfway up the stairs, her feet pounding against the stone in rhythmic urgency.

Each step took her farther away from the suffocating confines of the dungeon, farther from the clutches of the Horde, and closer to the freedom she could almost taste it in the cool night air. She pushed herself harder, faster, her breath quick and shallow as her mind raced through the plan Catra had outlined. The guards would remain distracted for just a few more minutes. Time was fleeting.

Glimmer’s feet pounded against the cold stone as she darted through the twisting corridors, her breath quick and shallow. Every footstep echoed in the silence, but she couldn’t afford to care about being heard

She turned a corner sharply and skidded to a stop in front of a door. Her eyes flicked over the sign next to it, the small but crucial details: Communication Room . This was it. The place where the Horde sent and received information. If anyone knew where Adora was being held, it would be here.

Without wasting another second, Glimmer slammed her hand against the door panel, slipping inside before the security system could even register her presence. The room was bathed in the soft glow of screens and flashing lights, the walls lined with communication pads and technology far more advanced than anything she’d ever seen back in the Rebellion.

She cursed softly under her breath. Bow had shown her some basics when it came to tech, but this? This was beyond anything he had taught her. But desperation sharpened her focus, and Glimmer dove into the terminals, her fingers flying over the keys with a rapid determination.

She was lucky the Horde technology was so basic. Entrapta had left before she could do anymore lasting improvements to their systems.  What she had done was so far beyond what the Horde could handle without her it had crashed the day she escaped. Or someone had crashed it to help her escape. 

Glimmer’s breath caught in her throat.  She didn't even have to bypass a password to get to the layout of the Horde. a map materializes on the screen before her with the click of a button..

The location wasn’t what she expected.

There, in the middle of the map, was a private wing of the fortress—one she had never dared to venture into. The coordinates led straight to Catra’s personal rooms . Marked with an ugly Force Captain Catra icon.

--------)0(--------

Glimmer crouched low behind a towering stack of crates, her heart hammering in her chest. The Horde base loomed around her, its cold, metallic walls and harsh fluorescent lighting a stark contrast to the dimness of the prison. 

She tries to ignore her fatigued trembling. Adora was somewhere inside these walls, and Glimmer wasn’t leaving without her.

She had no idea how long she’d been sneaking through the corridors, her teleportation magic barely keeping her one step ahead of the patrolling guards. The risk of being caught hung heavy over her, but her overwhelming fear seemed to keep her on her toes. 

Glimmer’s breathing was shallow as she peeked around the corner, scanning for signs of movement. The hallway was clear for now, but she knew that could change in an instant. She had to be careful, precise. Every step closer to Catra’s quarters increased the danger, but it also brought her closer to finding Adora.

A clatter of footsteps echoed from somewhere behind her, and Glimmer ducked into a shadowy alcove, holding her breath as two Horde soldiers passed by. They were talking, their voices low but audible.

“Did you hear? Force Captain Catra’s been in a mood all day. Something about a prisoner causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I heard. Bet it’s that blonde rebel they brought in. She’s been nothing but a headache for the Commander.”

Glimmer clenched her fists, her magic sparking faintly at the edges of her fingertips. It seems silly now of course. Catra and Adora in love? Its hilarious, Glimmer must have been high on Prison fumes. 

She bit back the urge to teleport straight to Adora’s side and fight her way out. No, she had to be smart about this. Charging in recklessly would only get them both caught—or worse.

The soldiers’ voices faded as they moved down the corridor, and Glimmer let out a slow breath.

The layout of the base was a jumbled mess in her mind, but she remembered enough from past battles and intelligence reports to navigate with some confidence. If she could just avoid detection a little longer…

The air here felt different, heavier. Glimmer’s stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and dread as she approached the door she believed belonged to Catra. If her stolen force captain comms pad was anything to go by. She didn’t want to think about what she might find inside—or what Catra might do when she saw her.

The door was locked, of course, but Glimmer wasn’t about to let that stop her. She hefted her now useless comms pad and smashed it heavily against the pad. Unsurprisingly alarms around the Horde started to blare. 

Glimmer slipped inside, her senses on high alert. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a small lamp on a desk cluttered with papers and data pads. The air was thick with the faint smell of metal and something else—something sharper, almost acrid. Her eyes scanned the space, her breath caught in her throat as she prepared for an ambush.

But the room was empty.

Glimmer’s tension didn’t ease. If anything, the silence made her more uneasy. Catra wasn’t here, but that didn’t mean she was safe. She took a cautious step further into the room, her gaze darting to every corner, every shadow.

That’s when she saw it. The top drawer of a filing cabinet, tucked against the bed. Its overflowing with blankets. 

Her heart pounded as she approached the cabinet, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her ears filled with a sound she couldn't be hearing.She didn’t know what she expected to find, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her when she peered inside.

Her breath hitched. It was small and unassuming, the kind of thing you might expect to find in a nursery—not in the quarters of a Force Captain of the Horde. For a moment, Glimmer thought she must be imagining it.

Then the baby laughed, sharp canines glinting in the faint light of the lamp. The same baby Catra had brought to show her when she was in prison. The one she had hoped was a figment of her fucking imagination. 

The baby reaches out to grab Glimmer's fingers and Glimmer instinctually reaches back. Holy Hordak the baby was real. 

“What are you doing here?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She pulled her hand back, clenching her fists at her sides. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the baby. They were so small, so vulnerable. And if they stayed here, under the Horde’s influence… what kind of life would they have? What kind of person would they become?

Glimmer’s thoughts spiraled as she wrestled with herself. Taking the baby would be reckless, dangerous. It wasn’t her place to interfere, and yet… could she really leave them here? Could she walk away knowing she’d left an innocent life in the hands of the Horde?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” she muttered, pacing back and forth. “This is Catra’s child. She’ll come after you. She'll probably torture you, kill you.”

But another voice in her head countered, louder, more insistent. “This is the right thing to do. You can’t leave them here. You know what the Horde does to people. You know what they’ll do to them. Just look at the damn filing cabinet they have it in.”

“Damn it,” she whispered. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was a decision she couldn’t take lightly. If she did this, there would be no turning back. Catra would hunt her down, and the consequences would be severe. But if she didn’t…

Glimmer reached into the cabinent, her hands trembling as she lifted the baby into her arms. The child stirred but didn’t cry, their feline eyes blinking up at her with a curious, almost serene expression. Glimmer’s breath caught in her throat as she held them close, their warmth seeping into her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t leave you here. I won’t.”

She cradled the baby against her chest, her mind racing as she plotted her next move. She’d have to teleport out of the base, but that would drain her magic. She’d need to find a safe place to recover, and then… then what? What would she do with a baby?

The weight of her decision settled heavily on her shoulders, but she didn’t waver. This was the right thing to do. It had to be.

Glimmer turned toward the door, her magic sparking faintly as she prepared to teleport. But before she could make her escape, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Her heart lurched as she realized she was out of time.

The door slid open, and there stood Catra, her golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto Glimmer. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with tension.

“What the hell are you doing?” Catra demanded, her voice low and dangerous. Her gaze flicked to the baby in Glimmer’s arms, and her expression darkened. “Put them down. Now.”

Glimmer tightened her grip on the baby, her magic flaring instinctively. “I can’t,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I won’t.”

Catra’s ears flattened, and her tail lashed behind her. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” she hissed. “I told you to go straight to the skiffs. You're supposed to be out of here and halfway to the crimson waste. Not setting off my fucking alarms.”

Glimmer's anger bubbled to the surface. “You’re part of the Horde, Catra! You’re the reason so many people are suffering. You think I’m going to stand by and let you raise a child in this… this nightmare?”

“You seemed pretty alright with it when I brought her to fucking visit you!”

Catra took a step forward, her claws unsheathing. “You don’t get to decide that,” she growled. “You don’t get to take them from me.”

“And you don’t get to drag them into your war,” Glimmer retorted, her magic crackling around her. “I’m not letting you do this to them. I won’t.”

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and barely restrained fury. For a moment, it seemed like they might come to blows. But then the baby let out a soft, plaintive cry, and both women froze.

Catra’s gaze softened, her ears twitching at the sound. She took a hesitant step closer, her voice lowering. “Please,” she said quietly. “I’m helping you”

“Come with us then” Glimmer hugged the baby tighter. “Help me find Adora and Come with us.”

“I-” Catra’s tail whips nervously. Her eyes fluttering from Glimmer to the baby. “I can’t-”

Glimmer hesitated, her resolve faltering. She could see the pain in Catra’s eyes, the desperation etched into every line of her face. But she couldn’t ignore the larger picture, the danger this child would face if they stayed here.

“I’m sorry,” Glimmer said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I have to do this.”

Before Catra could react, Glimmer’s magic flared, and with a blinding flash of light, she teleported away—the baby held tightly in her arms.

--------)0(--------

The metallic clatter of footsteps echoed in Glimmer’s ears as she stumbled through the dimly lit corridors of the Fright Zone, her heart pounding. The baby in her arms stirred faintly, but thankfully, they didn’t cry. The last thing she needed was for their soft whimpers to alert every Horde soldier in the vicinity. She tightened her grip on the child, glinting eyes glancing up at her with a strange mix of innocence and curiosity, as if completely unaware of the chaos swirling around them.

“Just a little farther,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of machinery. She needed to get out of here, and fast. Every second spent in the Horde’s stronghold increased the likelihood of her being caught. And she couldn’t afford that—not when she had the baby, and not when she was so close to freedom.

She’s just hoping she stumbles across Adora on the way there. She missed her chance to ask Catra where she was. 

The skiff hold wasn’t far now. She’d memorized the route from the intelligence maps she’d studied before infiltrating the Fright Zone, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of navigating these labyrinthine halls with a baby in tow. She was exhausted, her magic reserves running dangerously low after teleporting out of Catra’s quarters. The weight of the child in her arms seemed to grow heavier with every step, and her limbs ached from the strain.

“Come on, Glimmer,” she whispered, trying to steady her breathing.

The skiff hold came into view at last, and relief flooded through her. Rows of sleek, black Horde skiffs lined the cavernous room, their engines dormant but ready to spring to life at a moment’s notice. Glimmer scanned the area, her eyes darting to every shadow and corner, searching for any sign of guards. The coast appeared clear, but she knew better than to let her guard down. The Horde was nothing if not unpredictable.

She made her way to the nearest skiff, a compact model that looked like it could be operated by a single pilot. Perfect. With a quick glance around, she fished a small keycard out of her pocket. The one that Catra had given her, before Glimmer had stolen her baby. and slid it into the skiff’s ignition panel. The console lit up with a faint hum, and Glimmer felt a surge of hope.

“Almost there,” she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

She placed the baby down gently on the skiff’s seat, their small form nestled securely against the backrest. They blinked up at her, their tiny hands reaching out as if sensing her tension. Glimmer’s chest tightened. She had no idea what she was doing, but she couldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was getting out of here.

Sliding into the pilot’s seat, she activated the skiff’s controls. The engine roared to life, the sound echoing through the hold. Glimmer winced, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard. So far, so good. She gripped the controls tightly, her knuckles turning white as she guided the skiff toward the exit.

The massive hangar doors loomed ahead, a barrier between her and the outside world. Glimmer’s fingers danced over the control panel, searching for the mechanism to open them. She found it—a large, red button—and pressed it without hesitation. The doors began to slide open, the grinding of metal on metal loud enough to make her heart skip a beat.

She can almost hear Catra’s hurried stumbling footsteps as she no doubt crashes through the Fright Zone and after Glimmer. 

“Come on, come on,” she urged, her eyes flicking back to the baby. They were still quiet, their feline eyes fixed on her as if they trusted her completely. The thought sent a pang of guilt through her, but she pushed it aside. She didn’t have time for second-guessing.

As soon as the doors were wide enough, Glimmer pushed the throttle forward. The skiff shot out of the hold and into the open air, the cold night wind whipping against her face. She didn’t dare look back. The Fright Zone shrank behind her, its looming towers and spires fading into the darkness as she sped toward the Whispering Woods.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins began to fade as the distance between her and the Horde’s stronghold grew. The baby’s soft breathing was the only sound accompanying the hum of the skiff’s engine. Glimmer’s mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions she couldn’t begin to untangle. She’d done it. She’d escaped. But what now?

She didn’t have an answer. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop moving. The Horde wouldn’t let her go so easily, especially not after what she’d taken. She needed to find a safe place to regroup, to figure out her next steps. And she needed to do it fast.

As she guided the skiff into the dense foliage, the engine’s hum softened, muffled by the thick canopy of trees overhead. The woods were dark and foreboding, the shadows seeming to stretch and twist in the moonlight. Glimmer’s nerves were on edge, every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig making her flinch.

She brought the skiff to a halt in a small clearing, the trees providing some semblance of protection from prying eyes. Glimmer shut off the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. She turned to the baby, who had dozed off during the journey, their tiny form curled up against the seat

“I think- We’re safe for now,” she murmured, more to herself than to the child. She reached out to brush a stray tuft of fur from their face, her touch gentle despite the turmoil in her heart. “At least, I hope we are.”

She leaned back in the pilot’s seat, exhaustion washing over her in waves. Her body ached, her magic reserves were depleted, and her mind was a chaotic mess. But she couldn’t rest. Not yet.

A faint sound broke through her thoughts—a soft, rhythmic thumping coming from somewhere behind her. Glimmer froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the skiff’s cargo hold. The sound continued, growing louder and more insistent.

“What the…?” she muttered, rising from her seat. She made her way to the back of the skiff, her footsteps cautious and deliberate. The thumping seemed to be coming from a large, bolted trunk secured to the floor of the hold. Glimmer’s brow furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her hands trembled as she unlatched the trunk, her mind racing with possibilities. What could be inside? A weapon? A trap? Something worse? She pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. With a deep breath, she lifted the lid.

What she saw made her blood run cold.

Adora.

She was crumpled inside the trunk, her body half-draped over the edges. Her eyes were half-lidded, her expression dazed and unfocused. Glimmer’s heart clenched at the sight of her friend, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.

“Adora!” she gasped, “thank gods” reaching out to pull her from the trunk. Adora groaned softly, her body limp as Glimmer struggled to support her weight. “What did they do to you?”

Adora’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused as she tried to speak. “Glimmer…?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “What… what’s going on?”

“It’s okay,” Glimmer said, her voice shaking. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She lowered Adora onto the skiff’s floor, her hands trembling as she checked for injuries. Adora’s skin was clammy, but the only injuries Glimmer could see were the slightly healed ones already there last time Glimmer had seen her. 

“Stay with me, Adora,” Glimmer pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”

Adora’s eyes drifted shut, her body going limp in Glimmer’s arms. Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to stay calm. There was no time to lose. She had to get Adora to safety—and fast.

--------)0(--------

Catra lunged for Glimmer, but her claws tore through nothing but open air. The momentum carried her forward, and she stumbled over her bum leg, crashing hard into the metal desk. A growl tore itself from her throat, raw and guttural.

Her nails dug ruthlessly into the table beneath her, the sharp points scraping deep grooves into the metal. The desk groaned under the pressure, bending and creaking as the metal bundled up beneath her fingers.

Cubsy was gone. Just like that. Stolen by a princess. A Princess Catra trusted not to kill her cub but obviously couldn’t trust not to kidnap her. It was hilarious, really. A bitter chuckle escaped Catra’s lips, sharp and humorless, echoing in the emptiness of the room.

The sword had taken Adora from her. The princesses had taken her people. And now, they had taken her child. How had she not seen this coming? How had she not prepared for this? First it was Adora, and now Cubsy. The cycle repeated itself, over and over.

The worst part? Cubsy would be happier there. Bright Moon, with its forests and rolling hills, its chirping birds and sunshine, was everything the Fright Zone wasn’t. Everything Catra couldn’t offer. She could see it already: Cubsy smiling, laughing, thriving in a world that would take care of her. 

Her nails scraped harder against the desk, leaving jagged scars in the metal. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unrelenting, spilling over and soaking into her fur. She laughed harder, the sound broken and strangled, until it morphed into a sob she couldn’t contain. She hadn’t cried since Hordak drowned her in that tub of green acid all those years ago. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry again, wouldn’t let herself feel this weak. But here she was.

“fuck you, Glimmer,” she choked out, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. Her shoulders shook as the laughter gave way to a flood of anguish she couldn’t stop. She sank to her knees, her body trembling as she clutched the edge of the desk like it was the only thing grounding her.

Cubsy was gone. Adora was gone. And Catra was alone again, just like she always was

Chapter Text

“What the hell did you do?” Adora asks, her hands shaking as she reaches out for the small cub in Glimmer's hold. 

Glimmer glares at her, practically shoving the squirming, teary-eyed baby into Adora's arms. Without thinking, Adora instinctively wraps Cubsy up in the familiar, worn fabric of Catra’s old Horde cloak. The fabric smells faintly of something like old memories, like her. For a moment, Adora’s heart catches in her throat. Where did she even get this? she doesn't''t remember wrapping herself up in it before going to bed, is that where she was last? or was it the bathroom.

It must have been wrapped up around her when Catra shoved her in that box. Catra must have picked it up off the back of a dining chair and hauled it over Adora's shoulders. so she wouldn't get cold.

Cubsy wines and Adora looks down, a hand flying to her face and catching the next tear that tries to fall down her cheek. Cubsy's small hands desperately twisting into Adora’s shirt, trying to crawl up her body and soothe her. Adora presses her lips to the soft forehead, trying her best to keep her steady in shakey arms, to comfort her. She shushes the child, rubbing her back with a soothing rhythm.

Glimmer hefts her bag of supplies. The bag is ripped, red, and falling apart. It's Catra’s, Adora had seen that bag everyday for her entire childhood. She had sewn it back together every time it fell apart. Catra was never as good as Adora was at stitching. Wounds or otherwise. Then Again, Catra was usually better at most things. It was only fair Adora got to one up her on a select few. 

Glimmer grunts, ripping the key out of the skiff and shoving it in her pocket, the pack weighing heavily on her back and forcing the girl to bed awkwardly at the waist. 

"What did you do?” Adora repeats, her voice hoarse now, the sting of exhaustion and disbelief mixing with the fire of frustration clogging her throat. She should be in bed right now, laying next to Catra. Listening to her purr quietly and whip her tail across the sheets. She forces herself to look up at Glimmer instead, her eyes bloodshot.  Glimmer doesn't seem to grasp the urgency of the situation. “You kidnapped a child!”

“What are you talking about?” Glimmer mutters, frustration leaking into her voice as she struggles with the weight of the bag. She kicks the leaves around carelessly, making half-hearted attempts to cover the skiff. But the metal hull glints in the morning light, still too exposed  “I'm saving it from a terrible childhood, Adora. You think that Asshole can take care of a kid? she'd give her a nightmare of a life!”

Adora’s heart races in her chest. She can feel her baby’s tiny hands gripping shirt her tighter, and her stomach churns with dread. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Adora didn't want this to happen. The idea of a rescue was so far out of her mind she hadn't even given it a second thought. Adora, now She-ra-less, was supposed to spend the rest of her life making sure Catra ate more than once a day.  “Glimmer- Holy Hordak- this is Catra’s kid,” Adora growls, her voice rising despite her best efforts to stay calm. “She was taking very good care of her. Better than what we ever got as cadets. Better than what most kids get in war zones!”

“She was keeping her in a war zone! right in the middle of it, actually!” Glimmer exclaims, hiking the bag further up on her shoulder as she trudges deeper into the woods, "If I hadn't stepped in that kid would have turned into a miniature war lord. I'm doing it a favor!"

“All of Etheria is a warzone!” Glimmer frown deepens but she ignores her. Brushing past her and the agitated child. “Where are you going?” Adora reaches out and drags Glimmer back by the hand. The woman is breathing heavily, her eyes fluttering everywhere but Adora’s eyes. She's cornered, or she looks it at least. 

“You're freaking out,” Adora says, placing her free hand on Glimmer's shoulder. “Your freaking out thats why your-”

“I'm not freaking out!” Glimmer grounds it out in a way that tells Adora that yes, she is. The way she presses the heel of her hands into her eyes doesn't help. She's hunched over from the weight of the bag. 

She brushes Adora’s hand from her shoulder, “I am not freaking out.” she says more calmly. “All we have to do is track the rebellion from where they last were. That has to be super close to here. just around left I think?”

“I have no idea where that is” Adora says, bouncing Cubsy and keeping hand supporting her head. The cub calms in her arms, gnawing at her pacifier and looking at Adora with her watery eyes. 

“Yeah- well- I do!” Glimmer gasps, she stops and runs her hand over her face,”I knew where we were, before… I can figure out where they are now- I can find them” she seems to be convincing herself. tucking her hands under her arms to warm them. 

“That doesn't mean you had to steal a fucking baby” Adora says, stumbling after Glimmer on her weak legs as the princess sets off again into the woods. Cubsy tucks her head into Adora’s shoulder, her pacifier trembling in her mouth. A wine sounds from her chest. Her ears are flattened to her head in clear distress. Adora would prefer to head back to the skiff and settle for the night. It would calm Cubsy and maybe even Glimmer too. 

“What does the baby have to do with anything?” Glimmer asks, throwing her arm in the air. “We are lost! In the middle of the woods! Why are we even talking about Catra and her devil spawn!?”

“Glimmer,” Adora stops, rocking the baby back and forth to soothe her. “Stop”

“We can't stop” Glimmer spins on her heel and drops her bag. Tears are streaming down her face. “We’re not safe until-”

“Glimmer- I mean stop shredding into Catra like she deserves it. I don't doubt for a single second Catra is the only reason we are still here.”

“I was going to leave you” Glimmer admits, she sits down on her bag of supplies. “I couldn't find you. I- I tried” her voice cracks and Adora frowns, crouching before Glimmer and letting Cubsy rest on her knees. The cub just tucks herself further into Adora's hold. Her tail wrapping around the blonde's wrist. 

“Glimmer-”

Catra got me out, she broke the lock and gave me the.. The fucking key”

“Why are you crying?” Adora asks softly, pressing a kiss to Cubsy’s forehead as the baby squirms in her arms, clearly distressed by either the unfamiliar surroundings or the stark absence of her mother. Adora is feeling it a bit too, She feels colder and less confident in their safety. Catra may have been nearly immobilized but the girl was scary when she wanted to be. Adora does her best to soothe her cub, keeping her calm as she watches Glimmer break down in front of her

Glimmer wipes her eyes furiously, a mix of frustration and guilt etched across her face as she slaps her hands back down in her lap. “I'm crying because we're lost, and the Horde is winning and- because I stole her fucking baby,” she chokes out, her voice thick with emotion. She gestures to the child in Adora’s arms as though the tiny creature were an undeniable piece of incriminating evidence.

“I'm also pretty confused about that” Adora admits, cuddling the baby closer, letting her cheek be scented as Cubsy’s tail wraps around her hand. "People don't usually kidnap. Now I know Catra did it to you once but I'm a firm believer that forgiveness is the best policy"

Glimmer lets out a heavy sigh, wiping her tear-streaked face. “I couldn’t leave her there. Look at her!” She gestures to the baby, her voice cracking. “She doesn’t deserve that life. Catra is barely holding it together as is, she couldn't take care of a kid.” 

Adora flinches, Glimmer is right but if they're speaking like that then no one is capable of taking care of a kid. Catra was doing her best, even if her best was a baby in a filing cabinet. She tries to keep her voice steady as she responds. “Catra was doing alright... I’m not saying she had it easy, but she was doing alright.. She... she was keeping her safe, as much as she could.”

“She was down a leg and an eye.” Glimmer deadpans, wiping her tears, "The baby was in a filing cabinet"

“Her eye works,” Adora says, “a little”

Glimmer narrows her eyes, still unconvinced. “The baby was there, Adora. And you weren’t.” Her voice cracks, the weight of the decision she made hitting her all over again. “I just— I just took her. ”

Adora looks down at Cubsy, her heart aching for both the baby and for Catra.. “Catra is going to be devastated.

Glimmer shakes her head, her hands trembling. “I offered for her to come with me! I told her she could come with us.” Her voice is pleading, as if that somehow makes this easier. “But you know how that went.”

“We both know you don't have enough magic left in you to teleport more than you and your small "catgo ".  The joke falls flat, Glimmer doesn't even crack a smile. Cubsy, as if offended, glares up at Adora. "Though you probably shouldn't be teleporting someone so young."

“She refused! That's what's important.” Glimmer glares at Adora. “She decided to stay on her own”

“Hordak has her by the... something,” Adora continues, rubbing her head against Cubsy’s soft ears. Her voice falters for a moment, her mind racing with the implications of what’s happening to Catra. or at least what she thinks is happening to her. Adora has spent so much time sparsing what is code and what isn't she's starting to think she's assumed everything is a treasonous act hidden under thinly veiled food like words. “I think he’s threatened her with something. Something she can’t risk.”

“I’m sure that evil dictator is there because she doesn’t want to be.” Glimmer rolls her eyes, wiping the last of her tears away in a sharp motion, as if dismissing the notion entirely.

Adora lets out a long breath. “If she's so evil, why would she stuff me in a crate?” Adora’s voice shakes slightly as she looks at Glimmer, her tone laced with frustration but also concern for Catra.

“She stuffed you in a crate!” Glimmer says that again as if it's incriminating evidence.

Adora nods slowly, her expression softening. “Yeah... to save me.” She shuffles closer, leaning heavily on Glimmer’s shoulder. She would try to keep her distance and her anger but she's so tired she just lets the facade drop. The weight of her exhaustion and the night’s events pressing down on her. “Hordak has gone off the rails. There’s a reason Catra’s not in the field anymore. And it’s not just because she can’t walk.” Her voice falters again, but she pushes through the lump in her throat. “Catra’s not the same. Something happened to her, Glimmer. I think Hordak’s making her do things she can’t control...

And she had a baby” Adora gestures to the child in her arms.

“I didn’t mean to take the baby,” Glimmer admits finally, her voice small and uncertain. She looks down at the bag slung over her shoulder, a stark reminder of the choices she’s made. “I mean, I kinda did... But I was just holding her, and then Catra came in and—”

“You accidentally stole her baby,”

Glimmer bites her lip, guilt flooding her features. “She shoved you in a crate to save you,” Glimmer mutters, the truth of it sinking in. The realization that Catra had made a sacrifice for her-for Adora-is a bitter one, one that doesn’t sit easily with either of them. Letting Glimmer escape is one thing but letting Adora, the former She-ra, escape is another. 

“She fucking shoved me in a crate” Adora’s voice cracks halfway through her sentence and then she's crying. The baby in her arms wines with concern, her brown eyes widening in horror at the tears on both girls' faces. Little hands pat at her cheeks and pull Adora closer her to rub a scent mark into her neck. 

“Oh Adora, why are you crying?” Adora laughs and pets down Cubsys back, letting the cub get her worries out. It's so similar to Catra as a kid that it's making her cry harder not less. 

“That fucking asshole shoved me in a crate as soon as we started talking about feelings. We were litterly talking about running away!”

“Running away?”

“Catra always wanted to, as a cadet. She alway told me that we could have such a good life together if we left.” Adora laughs and wipes away her tears. “She said we could be pirates”

“Catra hates water, even I know that,”

“That's what she said” Adora laughs wetly. Pulling her cub close and rubbing her own scent mark into the baby's cheek. It soothes her better than anything else Adora tried so she does it again on the other, leaning back and letting the cub rest her head on her chest. 

“I hate war” Glimmer admits. Her head falling to rest on Adora's shoulder “and I'm very glad you're not dead or in the Hordes hands.”

“Yeah, I am too” Adora groans, shifting uncomfortably against the hard ground. She may not be as damaged as Catra but she is getting old. She can't sit around in the dirt like a cadet any longer. she shifts to stand, ignoring both Glimmer and Cubsy as they complain about Adora dislodging them. she stands, resting her new found child on her hip and rocking her side to side. 

“Alright, where in the hell did you take us? I need a warm meal and a bed and a second bed that's slightly smaller and perfectly kid sized.”

I don't know, I just followed the directions already in the skiff” Glimmer gestures to the moss covering the hull. 

“You just followed the directions on an enemy vehicle?”

“I dont know!? Dont judge me!” Glimmer stands. “I don't know how to get anywhere from the Horde! Not unless I'm teleporting!”

“Oh my gods” Adora pinches the bridge of her nose, “oh my-”

“Stop speaking in that disappointed tone! I assumed Catra had put it in there!”

Adora assumes they are near mount Candilla at least, seeing that is where Catra knew the rebellion to be hiding. If Catra was the one to program the skiff at all. they could be anywhere on

--------)0(--------

In her defense. Catra wasn't expecting company. But she never really is. She growls when her door creaks open, when the footsteps at the door hesitate and stumble. 

“What do you want?” Catra sneers, raking her claws down the comms desk as she turns to the door. Taggarts eyes are wide at the mess of the room. 

The books stacked against the wall have been thrown down. They litter the floor with splayed pages. The bed is flipped, the kitchen torn apart. Catra had taken her claws to all four walls. 

“What happened?” he asked quietly. stepping into Catra's quarters. 

“What do you think happened” Catra snarls. Turning back to her desk to hide her tears. Taggart takes a moment to search the room. For what or for whom Catra can't bear to ask. 

" I have something-”

“I dont want anything you have to offer” Catra stand from her desk, sending her chair and her brace squealing in protest. She makes quick work of the distance between herself and the door. She's in Taggarts face in an instant.

She swipes the paper wrapped package from his hand and rips in open. Taggart winces at the page she tears from the book and waves in the air. 

“Oh look, more treachery. Idiots, playing with shit they don't understand.” The gaurds standing beyond the door way quickly duck out of view and look the other way. They may be worthless but at least their loyal. 

Catra balls the paper in her hand and chucks the book across the room. “Their going to get us all fucking killed.”

“Catra-” Taggart watches Catra ripp pages from the book without even looking what's on them.

“What the fuck are you even still doing her” Catra growls, getting in Taggarts face. “Your supposed to be out of here, taking care of that litter of brats. Get out”

“I can't leave you Catra, you know this”

“Why? Huh? I'v done nothing but get you in more and more trouble. If you ever cared about me you would have taken me out of this shit hole when I was a kid"

"You're like a daughter to me. I was there for most of your life!" Taggart says, stumbling back, "The Fright zone was our home!"

"Well, fuck that” Catra laughs. “You're better off killing yourself right here then admitting that. It sounds an awful lot like your compromised Taggart. I would choose your next words wisely”

"It's the truth." Taggart says. glaring down at Catra sternly.  

'It's fucked. “ Catra laughs “I'm only going to get you and everyone you loved killed. It's what I'm best at. Killed or kidnapped as a prisoner of war"

Catra shoves the man, hard. He stumbles on his bum leg and grunts as his back hits the door frame “get out” Catra growls, she can't stop the tears from streaking through her face now. And she cant stop Taggart from seeing them. 

“Catra”

“Get out!”

Catra tries to take a threatening step forward but trips over her brace. She lands on her knees hard and screams. It wordless. Her claws scratching into the thick metal flooring. 

The door shuts sielntly and Catra is blissfully alone. It's agony. The tears wont stop and neither will the feeling deep in her chest that she is missing something. Someone. Her forehead pressed firmly against the cool floor. 

Then the door opens again. 

"Taggart, I told you"

“Compare me to that old fart again an I'll skin you” Lonnie kneels on the floor next to her. Her arms wrapping firmly around the feline and pulling her into her arms. It reminds her of Adora. They learned how to show affection in the same place so Catra isn't surprised. 

“Get out-”

“Catra, we are family,”Catra growls at that, hiding her face in her hands and refusing to give Lonnie the satisfaction of looking at her “we always been and we always will, even if I hate your guts”

Catra laughs through the tears, even if it wasn't that funny. 

“What happened? Huh? What could take a furrball like your down?

“She took her” Catra sobs, her arms wrapping around herself. As if she can protect her midriff from the pain, “She took her and she's gone”

“Glimmer?” Lonnie asks, running her hand over Catra’s fur, brushing out nonexistent knots. “Her name has been in the air recently. I didn't realize she was a baby snatcher,”

“I helped her escape” Catra whispers, pressing her forehead into the girls shoulder, 

“Thats something you should not have shared with me” Lonnie says, awkwardly getting to her feet and dragging Catra up with. Her. “something I'm going to forget hearing once I leave,”

“Who fucking cares” Catra growls, letting herself be lead to the last chair standing in the destroyed room. “Look where its gotten me. I might as well let Hordak take me out. The at least the rebellion will have a fighting chance”

“Wow, humble” Lonnie scoffs, tipping another chair right side up and sitting in it with a groan, “remind me to forget that one too, yeah?”

Catra growls stuffing her head between her knees and keeping her arms firmly wrapped around her midsection. Her eyes lock on the little stuff arm laying have obscured beneath her bed. A bear arm. Cubsy’s bear. 

Catra grits her teeth and carefully picks the toy up. Careful of the terribly done stitching. 

“What are we doing Lonnie?” Catra asks, her claws tracing the white thread. “We’re the bad guys…”

“What are you? Three? It's called being evil, Catra.” Lonnie places her hands on Catra’s knees and sighs. “Look, we’re fucked. There's no denying it. But we can try. Being good doesn't come easy but we can always try”

“I have been” Catra snarls, in defeat and not anger. “I've tried so hard. It's done shit. The rebellion is full of idiots.”

Lonnie laughs like that's a joke.

--------)0(--------

Years in the Horde

Adora laughs, stumbling slightly in her step as the door slams shut and then quickly opens again. 

“Adora!” Catra whispers loudly, an annoyed tone in her voice. “Give it back!”

“Nu huh!” Adora spins on her heel and sticks her tongue out waving the paper in the air, “not until you tell me what’s really on it” Adora sticks her hands on her hips, the paper crinkling slightly. 

“Adora!’ Catra takes a step closer, her eyes on the paper. “It's just drawing”

“Drawing my ass” Adora smooths out the paper and holds it up in front of her. “I didn't realize you were so interested in Tanks. Modified tanks” she shakes the paper and Catra winces. 

“Be careful with that! Your going to smudge my notes””

“I knew it!” Adora smiles and waves the paper exaggeratedly. “You big fat nerd”

"Adora!" Catra lunged, but Adora yanked the paper out of her grasp just in time, grinning all the while. Normally, Catra would have caught it effortlessly, but today she was a beat too slow.

"Cat-ra…" Adora's teasing tone only made Catra's scowl deepen.

Catra squeezes her eyes shut and growls. “Fuck you”

Catra turns away and reaches for the door, 

“Catra”

“Don't use that mocking tone with-”

“I'm not mocking you” Adora places her hand on Catra's shoulder. “I'm sorry i called you a nerd, 

“No you're not” Catra growls, snatching the paper from Adora’s grip. She meticulously straightens out the creases Adora had unknowingly lined into the drawing

“I mean yeah, I’m not. But you shouldn't be embarrassed about being a nerd” Adora hides a smile and Catra sneers at her, “your drawing is really cool! I bet it would work!”

“If course it would fucking work” Catra says, puffing out her chest. “I wouldn't draw it out if I didn't think it would work.”

Adora smiles at Catra bravado. “I'm sure you wouldn't” Adora says, thinking about the stack of papers hidden beneath the feline's mattress.

“If you implying what I think you're implying I'll kill you”

“I'm sure you would” Adora says with the same frustrating and Endearing smirk. Catra growls but there's a smile in it this time. She shoves her drawing into her pocket (neatly folded of course” and jumps at Adora. Paying no mind to the squeal the blonde lets out. 

They giggle as Adora collapses to the floor. Her frail legs are unable to support Catra’s weight. “Get off of me” Adora laughs, playing shoving CAtra’s face and holding in her joy when the feline scents her, her cheek rubbing into Adora’s neck. 

Catra tails whips behind her and she leans away from Adora, a smile splits her face. Adora thinks she’s beautiful. 

The door bangs open again. This time it isn't a slightly flustered Catra. This time Shadow Weaver is standing in the shadow of the doorway. One of her gnarled hands ripping gouges in the metal of the door. 

Catra freezes for just a second before hurting to stand. Adora is up right after her, standing in front of Catra. Shielding her with her body, 

“I see that not only have you decided to skip class but you have also decided to drag Adora with you”

“no- Shadow Weaver, we were just headed our way to class now-”

“Shut it, Adora.” Shadow Weavers eyes soften at Adora’s flinch. “You dont have to defend her dear,” she starts forward, uncaring at Catra shying away. She places a soft, caring hand on Adora’s cheek “I won't blame you for your pets disgrace”

“Ma’am, we were just heading that way-”

“I said shut your mouth,” Shadow Weaver growls. Her hand on Adora’s face tightening. “She’s been teaching you to talk back. I knew she would be a horrible influence.”

Adora’s mouth gapes. Insure if she should speak again and risk Getting Catra in more trouble and trying to defend their actions. SHadow Weaver pats her face and tilts her head towards the door. 

“Run along, dear” Adora straightens and glances behind her at Catra. The girl has abandoned hiding behind Adora and is now standing with a chest puffed out.

“I have to teach Catra hear a lesson for skipping class and ruining your perfect attendance, it isn't enough that she’s an imbecile but she has to drag you down to her level”

“She's not!” Adora blurts. Her hands balling at her sides. “She’s smart! She was just showing me-”

“Showing you what?”  Shadow Weaver growls, “contraband? Drugs?”

SHadow weaver takes a step towards Catra. A hand reaching out towards her. Adora reaches out and takes Shadow weavers hand in a death grip. Shadow weaver narrows her eyes at Adora. 

"It’s nothing”

“Show it to me”

When Catra hesitates and Adora moves to stand in front of her again Shadow Weaver reaches out, with her magic. She shoves Adora up against the wall and grabs Catra in a sparkling black field. Catra straightens, stiffins and a whine squeals from between her teeth. 

Shadow Weaver shoves her hands into Caatra’s pockets. Ripping the delicate steeps and pulling out a handful of nuts and bolts and the folded lined paper. 

“You're carrying around spare parts like a squirrel.” Shadow Weaver seethes. “I thought I told you to curb those stupid animal instincts.”

“I-’ Catra tries to speak but the electricity holding her sparks and spits. 

“Get out Adora. “

"Force Captain-”

“Out”

Adora slams her fist against the door, the force reverberating through her entire body as the door snaps shut in front of her. She barely yanks her hand back in time, her fingers narrowly escaping being crushed. The sting in her skin matches the ache in her chest, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on it. She’s too far gone. She yells for Catra, her voice hoarse, raw, and full of a desperation

Her nails, already scratched and raw from earlier attempts, catch on the door jam as she claws at it. No matter how she tries, she’ll never have claws like Catra’s—whether the sharp natural ones that cut through flesh with ease or the metal replacements that glinted coldly in the dim light.

Adora lets out a growl of frustration and stumbles away. The tears she’s been holding back are threatening to spill, but she whips them away furiously, determined not to let them show. Lonnie looks up as she enters, quickly removing herself from Kyle’s bed and standing before it awkwardly. Kyle coughs and turns over under his covers, whipping his mouth. 

Where have you been?” Lonnie asks, hands on her hips, “you missed typing and drills”

“At least I wasnt fucking kyle” Adora snarls, her words feel foreign to her, harsh and uncharacteristic, but they spill out anyway. Lonnie flinches, her face going pale as she backs away slightly, steadying herself on Kyle’s bunk. Kyle, for his part, sits up with a look of annoyance, his brow furrowed.. Which isn't very menacing at all. 

“What crawled up your ass” he mutters, attempting to sound mean, but it only comes out like a weak challenge

Adora sneers and crawls beneath her own covers. The thick blanket pulled up to her shoulders as she curled up away from the love birds. Ignoring the sound of Lonnie getting back into the bottom bunk. 

She doesn't sleep though. Awake long after Lonnie starts to snore and Kyle moves into Rogelio’s bed. Her eyes are trailed on the door. Waiting for it to slide open and reveal a healthy and capable Catra. Bright sparkly multi colored eyes filled with mischief and trying to pull one over on Adora. 

Adora will get up and wrap the blanket around her shoulders and force her to cuddle Adora for the rest of the night. 

When the door does open she instead pretends to be asleep. Her eyes closed expertly against the harsh lighting in the hallways. Catra is shoved forward. The guard behind her straight back and face less. The helmet he’s wearing reflects the darkness of the bunk house. 

Catra stumbles against the cold flooring, left hand held close to her chest, the other held out to break her fall, badly. Her chest thunks hollowly against the cold floor. The door shut quickly behind her. 

“Catra” Adora whisper;s as soon as the Guard can no longer hear. She sits up in her bed but freezes when Catra looks up. Her eyes are closed, a dark sticky substance leaking down her head. Adora can't tell what it is in the darkness but she has her suspicions. 

“Quiet” Catra hisses, crawling forward the few feet and reaches under Adora’s bunk, holding a spare ratty towel against her eye. Adora reaches out to Catra’s arm but the girl hisses and flinches away. Arm held closer to body. 

“What happened?” Adora breathes, her voice small. She wants to reach out, to hold Catra, to comfort her, but something in the air feels different—tense, heavy, unspoken.

Nothing,” Catra growls, the words laced with both anger and pain.

Adora’s brow furrows. She wants to argue, to demand answers, but Catra’s tone leaves no room for discussion. Instead, she sighs softly.

“Catra I can't see- if you need help-” Adora begins but is cut off by Catra’s sharp retort.

“I said nothing,” Catra snaps again, curling in on herself even more, pulling her injured arm closer to her body.

Adora shuffles forward but Catra growls. Leading to Adora laying back down in her bed. She opens the blanket and tucks herself to the far end of the bunk. 

Catra crawls in next to her,. Adora waits, watching as Catra slowly crawls into the bunk, her back to Adora, Adora’s and the wall, her body facing the door. Adora can’t help but notice the way Catra’s body trembles, the way her tail hangs limply, defeated between her legs.

Without a word, Adora wraps the blanket around both of them, her arms cautiously circling Catra’s shivering form. Catra hisses softly but doesn’t pull away, her body shaking against Adora’s warmth. For the first time in what feels like forever, Adora can feel Catra’s vulnerability—raw and real, even as she hides it behind her stubbornness.

“Can I stay here for the night?” Catra asks, her voice small, almost apologetic. It’s not something Adora expected, but then again, neither of them are who they used to be.

Adora tightens her hold around Catra, her chest tight with emotion. “Of course,” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she feels the tiny spark of hope flicker back to life.

--------)0(--------

--------)0(--------

“No” Adora gives no room for argument. She knows how the rest of the princesses see her. That she’s a pushover. Willing to help seems to have been translated into “walking mat”. But this isn't something she's willing to budge on. Not now and not ever. Not until she see's Catra again. 

Glimmer pinches the bridge of her nose and grinds her thumb into the metal of her chair. Spinerella is the only one in the room who doesn't seem increasingly uncomfortable with the rebellion's new arrangements. Cooing at Cubsy’s pitiful face and trying to make her smile with peekaboo. 

Nettossa sits next to her with a permanent frown and alternates between glaring at Cubsy and supporting dropping the cub off in the middle of the street and waiting for the next caravan of fugitives to come along and pick her up. 

Frosta is either angry she isn't the youngest anymore or that's just the face she makes when she's confused. She hasn't said a word since Adora and Glimmer stumbled their way into the Rebellions newest settlement and adamantly avoided being stabbed by Brightmoons few remaining guards. 

Perfuma and Scorpia sit side by side and argue in defense of keeping the baby around. Not that they need to because if Cubsy goes Adora goes. Not that Adora is much help anymore. Not that Adora is much of anything anymore. 

Scorpia continuously smiles and waves at the cub. She is also the only other person besides Adora that Cubsy will let hold her. It might be because she's so shocked that she's being held by enormous claws that could cut her in half. 

“Adora, is right”

Adpra looks up, thoroughly shocked. The queen Angella stares Adora down with a soft smile on her face. The wheel chair she’s contained in creaks as she raises a hand.

“This is the child of the formally dead second hand of the Horde, Catra” she smiles and winks at Adora. 

“It would be foolish to let her go, this is leverage. A leg up against our enemy. It is very important that we treat Cubsy here with the utmost respect. To care for her as if she was our own” Angella smiled mischievously at that. A look that Adora doesn't really understand directed at her. 

“Mom!” Glimmer yelps. Standing from her throne and spinning to look at her. “We can't keep a child when we’re struggling to win a war!” Even in her chair Angella has a motherly look that can freeze rioting cattle. 

Glimmer opens her mouth and closes it again like a fish. She turns to look at Adora, who raises an eyebrow. Adora is usually on Glimmer's side, It must have been relflex to look to her for support. At Adoras face, Glimmer promptly sits back down in her chair and crosses her arms penitently. 

Cubsy tucks her head in Adora’s lap, her tears flapping down in front of her face. Her binky nearly falls out but Adora catches it before it can. Cubsy whines in her lap and look up at her. Her eyes brimming with tears. She must be overstimulated. or hungry. or tired of the princesses looking at her with anger or pure joy. Adora is tired too, she'd be crying if she could.

“My numbers show” Mermista groans as soon as Entrapta starts speaking. “That Catra’s is 99.9 percent likely to turn her back on the horde when threatened with the loss of a person, or in this case child, that she loves.”

“What interesting statistics Entrapta” Queen Angella give the girl a thumbs up and an awkward smile. For someone who has since become the “mother hen” to everyone in attendance Queen Angella is quite uncomfortable around Entrapta. 

“Yes, I know” Entrapta turns back to her comms pad with a fleeting glance to the baby held in Adora’s arms. "I support keeping the cub around because this is a piece of Catra. Catra who saved my life and many others nearly five years ago."

“Well then” Angella claps her hands together. Startling the cub into looking up at her. Eyes wide. "it's settled, Cubsy is stay. It's a pleasure Cubsy I'm sure we can catch up over some milk later. Let's move on to the best way to recapture the city of Mount Candilla” 

"milk is mad for Magicats" Entrapta says quietly, making eye contact with Adora who had opened her mouth to say the same thing. 

“Yeah right” Mermista scoffs. She gestures to the map the princesses sit cross legged around, held down my rocks found in the grass. “The only thing that will happen if we skip our way into Mount Candilla is immediate capture and probably execution. Hordak is breathing down our damn necks.”

“Hordak thinks we’re in the crimson waste.” Adora speaks up, holding Cubsy’s grasping paws in her hand. “Last he heard we were even in drill.” Entrapta looks up at the name of her kingdom. “If we exacted a plan now, Hordak would most likely be caught completely off guard.”

“Oh good!” Perfuma clasps her hands together and smiles widely. Flowers bloom around her. “Adora is back and has insider information. Things are looking up!." 

“It's a bummer that She-ra isn't coming back,” Seahawk says, his usual bravado overshadowed by the immediate “thunk” of Mermista slapping him over the head. Though it's too late. 

Adora winces and stands. Struggling to get to her feet with her fatigue and the baby held in her arms.  “I'm going for a breath of fresh air.” 

“I would say we’re always breathing in fresh air seeing as we're in a tent” Mermista mumbles, glaring at Seahawk and looking at Adora apologetically. 

“Adora” Angella says, soothingly. She reaches for Adora’s hand but she yanks away before she can grasp it. “Adora-”

“I got her,” Glimmer says as the tent flap closes behind Adora. Angella nods her hands, falling back into her blanket-covered lap. He damaged wings twitching behind her, held in place by cloth coverings. 

--------)0(--------

Years in the horde

Catra giggles at the funny face Adora makes through the jumble of machinery. The steam tank in front of them hisses and groans, its angry fumes curling into the air like an upset dragon. She can’t help herself—seeing Adora’s exaggerated expression as she fumbles with the stubborn pipes is too amusing. But she quickly stifles her laughter, catching sight of the administrator strolling by with his disapproving glare fixed firmly on the malfunctioning tank.

The administrator tutts, shaking his head in clear disappointment as he surveys the still-broken engine. Catra scrambles to compose herself, taking a deep breath and turning back to the machine. She adjusts the valve, tightening it just the right amount. Her hands work quickly, her mind calculating the exact pressure needed to avoid another outburst from the tank.

The tank squeals again—a sharp, piercing sound that makes her flinch—but this time, instead of the usual violent eruption, the steam quiets. The hiss fades, the pressure regulating in a way that feels oddly satisfying. Catra’s eyes widened, her pulse racing.

“Holy Hordak, Catra!” Adora exclaims, her voice filled with awe as she leans over the bulky machine, tapping at the now-functional engine with a triumphant grin. “You did it!”

Catra grins quietly to herself, her heart swelling with pride. She reaches down, picking up her notebook from the floor, the carefully sketched schematics hidden close to her chest. It’s a small victory, but it feels monumental to her. Adora’s praise makes it even sweeter.

“I think it should hold up in a couple more battles, yes,” Catra says, trying to play it cool, though the hint of pride in her voice betrays her. She doesn't even wince at her own dorky statement. 

Her grin widens just a bit when Adora swings around the tank, lifting the cub into a bear hug. Catra’s tail flicks with barely contained happiness at the sight of the two together. She could pretend to be annoyed by it, but the truth is, seeing Adora so joyful—seeing Adora proud of her—fills a space in Catra’s chest that she didn’t even realize was empty.

“You’re a genius,” Adora whispers, her voice warm as she sets the cub back down, her hands still lingering on its soft fur.

Catra can’t help but beam, her tail swishing behind her. “It’s just routine,” she shrugs, though the smile on her face gives her away.

Adora quirks an eyebrow, hands on her hips as she looks over the now-functional steam-powered engine. “It would be routine if you did it in three hours instead of ten minutes,” she grins. “It’s extraordinary.”

‘Catra shrugs, playing it down, though she’s clearly pleased. “Yeah, you're right. This is pretty impressive.” She pauses, glancing at Adora from the corner of her eye. “I mean, I couldn’t do this two months ago.” Her voice is soft, almost contemplative.

Adora grins, clearly moved by her words. “Well, you're definitely my favorite mechanic,” she says, her voice full of warmth. She watches Catra’s tail curl and twitch in barely contained glee, and it makes her heart swell. She’s so proud of Catra—of how far she’s come, of how strong and capable she’s become.

“What I don't find impressive is you and your “friend” slacking off” The administrator suddenly interrupts, his voice dripping with authority. Adora and Catra freeze, their shoulders tensing at the sound of his footsteps. They hadn’t noticed him sneaking up on them. His gaze cuts between the two girls, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as he uncaps his pen

Chicken scratching something out in barely legible handwriting. Adora straightens, trying to catch what he notes down.

Catra’s tail twitches uneasily, and Adora stiffens, trying to stand a little straighter. The administrator taps his pen against his clipboard, scribbling something down in barely legible handwriting, as if daring them to speak up.

“We were just getting ready to move onto the next one,” Adora says quickly, her voice light and casual, though it’s obvious she’s trying to cover their moment of relaxation.

“Say that to the laughing I heard from across the room,” the administrator replies, his tone sharp. He eyes them both with a critical glare.

“Sir, we were just…” Catra starts, but the words fall flat. She knows better than to argue with him.

The administrator sighs deeply, his impatience palpable as he taps his pen against the clipboard once more. Finally, he crosses out his notes, muttering under his breath, “Just get to work.” He turns and walks briskly away, leaving them both to exhale in relief.

Once he’s out of earshot, both Adora and Catra let out a collective sigh of relief. They exchange a quick glance, the tension of the moment fading as they share a small, knowing smile.

“Well,” Adora says with a smirk, picking up her tools and slinging them over her shoulder. “At least we know we’ve got his attention.”

Catra snorts, rolling her eyes as she picks up her notebook again, tucking it into her bag. “Yeah, well, he’s got a lot of nerve interrupting genius at work,” she mutters, but there’s a playful gleam in her eye.

--------)0(--------

The soft hum of the encampment carried through the cold night air, the crackling of fire pits blending with the distant laughter of soldiers. The tents were worn, their fabric patched with whatever materials could be scavenged, but the spirit of the rebellion was alive. Soldiers joked around the fires, teasing one another about their drills, or retelling stories of battles long past. Even in the midst of struggle, there was a warmth that made the camp feel oddly welcoming.

Adora walked briskly through the makeshift paths, her footsteps muffled by the dirt beneath her boots. Cubsy nestled against her shoulder, her tiny paws gripping Adora’s tunic as she looked around with wide, curious eyes, though the little cub's gaze kept drifting toward the shadows, as if she were searching for something—or someone.

Glimmer’s voice broke through the hum of the camp, sharp and persistent.

"Adora!" Glimmer called, her footsteps quickening as she moved to catch up. "Wait up!"

Adora didn’t stop, but her pace faltered for a moment, just enough to let Glimmer close the gap. She didn’t want to face her right now. She didn’t want to have another conversation about the war, the baby, or the rebellion.

"Adora!" Glimmer’s voice softened, concern leaking through the frustration. "You can’t just—"

Adora turned sharply, cutting her off. Her eyes were tired, The conversation with Queen Angella still heavy in her chest. "I need some space, Glimmer," she said, her tone more fragile than she intended. Cubsy curled deeper into her arms, sensing her discomfort. Or maybe the baby is seeking her own comfort from who should be the adult in her life.

Glimmer stopped in her tracks, her brows furrowing. She took a step forward, her voice softer now but still carrying her frustration. "You can’t keep doing this. Ignoring everything. Running off every time someone tries to talk to you."

Adora’s jaw clenched, the defensiveness rising within her. She hadn’t realized how much anger had built up in her since that failed conversation with Catra, since the mounting pressure of leading the rebellion to victory returned ten fold and the entrance Cubsy’s fragile presence in their lives. “Well it's not like I'm worth talking to anyway. She-ra is gone”

"You think I don’t get it?" Glimmer’s voice was low, steady. "I’m the one trying to hold this together, Adora. And yeah, it’s hard. I don’t know what it’s like to be you, but I know what it’s like to feel lost. To feel like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and you can’t breathe.

She-ra was a great asset, yes! But she wasn't you! She isn't you. I’d rather have you than a thousand She-ra’s”

“Then you're an idiot. She-ra was the only reason we were winning.” Adora nearly sighs in relief when they reach the haphazard tent set up on Adora’s arrival. It's not the best situation but it'll be warm enough for Adora and the cub. And it has a flap Adora can close dramatically. One Glimmer will no better than to cross. 

Cubsy trills when Adora opens the tent and crawls inside. She must enjoy the darkness. Or notice that these are Adora's things set up here. Squirming out of her grasp and into the warm of Adora’s blankets that smell like her. Cubsy rubs herself into them and tucks herself into the warm darkness. 

At least one of them can get some sleep tonight. 

--------)0(--------

Adora punches through the hologram with a force that surprises even her. Her fist connects with the glowing, flickering image, and for a moment, the simulated enemy crumples under the weight of her strike. She grits her teeth, her breath coming in shallow bursts as frustration builds inside her chest.

This simulation is too hard even for her. Its hard to watch her own back and keep the princesses from getting her squad. Every move feels like it’s one step too late

Catra seems to be doing as ok as she is, even with her unsteady hands dancing lightly on her staff. Shiny new blacked tipped fingers clicking against the silver metal. Catra’s movements are still sharp, still controlled. She seems barely affected by the strain. Her superior genes keep her from falling behind. 

It's the rest of the squad she's worried about. Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio are good at staying in their tight circle. Keeping their formation tight, moving in unison. Protecting each other's backs and keeping the holograms from sneaking up behind them. Kyle is lagging in his fatigue and Rogelio’s holding his arm close to his chest, his pace slowing, clearly in pain

Adora feels a knot form in her stomach as she watches them, anxiety filling her chest. She doesn't understand why they are failing, they usually do so well. They were taught directly under Shadow Weaver. This shouldn't even faze them. 

Her focus shifts for a moment—just a moment—but it’s all it takes.

A flash of bright light appears behind her. Adora doesn’t even have time to react before an electric shock runs through her vest, the jolt ripping through her body. Her knees buckle beneath her as she crumples to the ground, gasping for breath, the world spinning around her. She curls up instinctively, clutching her midsection, the pain radiating out from the spot where the electric blast hit. curling up around her midsection like a wounded animal.

"Adora!" Catra’s voice rings out—sharp, panicked—cutting through the haze of pain. She’s expertly springing out of combat with her own princess to see if Adora has any lasting damage., 

Adora’s vision swims, and she hears the sound of combat stopping abruptly. Her vest flashes red in the corner of her vision, the holographic "X" glowing brightly as her status goes from "active" to "dead."

Adora grinds her teeth as she struggles to push herself up. She can't even stand.

Catra’s own princess hesitates, eyes flickering to Adora. She doesn’t go for the kill, but she stays close, waiting for any opening to strike again.

“Damn it” Lonnie swears, rushing to Adora’s aid. She reaches her just in time to catch her when she stumbles again. But as soon as she leaves the tight circle of defense with Kyle and Rogelio, it all falls apart.

Lonnie’s back is exposed

A blade, sharp and unforgiving, slices through the air. A holographic  princess slams into Lonnie, sending her sprawling to the ground. Rogelio is next—his arm still sore, but the urgency drives him to rush forward, only to meet the same fate as Lonnie.

“Catra!” Kyle yells, his voice laced with panic. But before he can reach out, the princesses close in on them.

Kyle stumbles, fatigue catching up with him

That leaves Catra. Who weaves and dodges her way out of combat for as long as she can, knowing she doesn't stand a chance against all the princesses

 She leaps into the rafters above the battlefield, using the high ground to her advantage. The low visibility gives her the opening she needs. She’s no longer following the strict protocols they’d been taught—she’s relying on her instincts now, feeling the air, sensing the movements around her. Her claws flash, and in a split second, she drops from above, racking her claws down the censors on the princesses back. The princess’s body flickers, then disappears in a burst of sparkling light.

But Catra doesn’t get to enjoy the victory.

The strike comes from behind—a blade catching her side as she twists to land, and she grunts in pain. The sword lodges deep, and for a moment, everything slows. She feels the weight of the impact. She feels the sting of it, and before she can react, she’s electrocuted harshly. She gasps but holds in a scream. .

The sharp buzzer rings loudly through the simulation room, signaling the end of the exercise.

The foliage around them begins to disappear—the digital trees, branches, and rocks vanishing into thin air, leaving behind an empty, barren room. The only sounds are the groans of the five cadets as they lie sprawled across the floor, their bodies exhausted and bruised. Catra still shakes with the effect of the electricity.

Adora’s still curled up on the ground, her chest heaving with each breath. Catra’s face is a mix of frustration and concern as she trembles, eyes scanning over Adora. Lonnie is already trying to sit up, her face set in a grimace, while Kyle and Rogelio slowly push themselves upright, clearly winded. The room is heavy with the weight of failure.

“I don’t get it…” Lonnie mutters, rubbing her side where she was hit. “Why was it so hard. They are never that hard. Never. 

“Well that was just sad” the instructor says, stumbling out from behind the instructor booth. He slurs in words and stumbles to the set of collapsed kids.  The faint smell of liquor wafts toward them, clinging to him like a second skin, stale and suffocating. Catra, still curled up on the floor, wrinkles her nose in disgust,

The scent of alcohol is far too overwhelming, and she scoots just a little farther away from the source. The others—groaning as they begin to stir—look just as miserable. Lonnie’s rubbing her ribs, Kyle’s massaging his temples, and Rogelio’s slumped against the wall, exhausted. Adora’s still lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with a deep frown.

“But,” the instructor continues, his voice slurring even more as he waves a lazy hand toward them, “it looks like you managed to kill six princesses before they took you out. So... you’re not the losers this time.”

His words ring hollow, as though the attempt at praise was just a way to mask the irritation in his voice. He grins like it’s supposed to mean something to them, but it doesn’t. It’s just another round of disappointment.

Then, as if summoned by the sheer weight of their failure, the door slides open.

A chill fills the room

“Disappointing is what it was.” Shadow Weaver steps through the threshold, her presence cold and unyielding. She doesn’t even have to say a word to silence the room. The air seems to thicken around her, heavy with a tension that makes everyone freeze. Her eyes, narrow and angry beneath her mask, scan over the group sprawled on the floor. There’s no trace of sympathy in her gaze—only disappointment, an emotion so palpable that it practically suffocates the space.

She doesn’t need to speak to communicate the depth of her displeasure. It’s written all over her. Every inch of her is a manifestation of disappointment.

"Pathetic," she mutters, her voice barely a whisper, but it carries like a slap. "You’ve all failed... again."

The instructor tries to recover, wiping a hand over his mouth like he’s just realized how much he’s been drinking, but Shadow Weaver doesn’t give him the chance to speak. Her gaze sharpens, her fists clenched at her sides.

"Six princesses," she continues, her tone dripping with disdain, "and yet none of you were able to complete the mission. You all should be ashamed."

Adora, still lying on the floor, looks away, not wanting to meet her eyes. She knows the familiar sting of Shadow Weaver’s disapproval all too well. But it’s not just the weight of Shadow Weaver’s disappointment that hurts, it's the failure she caused her team. 

Catra lets out a small, bitter laugh from where she’s seated on the floor, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Nice to know we’re not complete failures," she mutters, her voice tinged with sarcasm, though there’s an edge of vulnerability in it. It’s not just the others who feel the sting of failure—she does too.

Shadow Weaver's eyes snap to Catra, and for a moment, the air grows even colder. Catra meets her gaze, but there's something different about her stance now. She’s no longer the overconfident cadet that Shadow Weaver once took pleasure in toying with—she’s different now, hardened by the chaos of their circumstances. She’s used to disappointment, used to being underestimated, and yet something in her eyes challenges the dark figure standing before them.

You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Shadow Weaver’s voice cuts through the room, soft but venomous, each word dripping with disdain. She steps forward, her presence filling the space like a suffocating storm cloud. “That was not clever. It was luck. You should be thankful you even made it this far, but don’t for a second think that means you’ve earned anything.”

She turns her gaze to Adora, eyes narrowing with disgust, her words piercing through the thick silence that followed the simulation’s abrupt end. “Especially you, Adora. You’ve always been the one with potential. I had such high hopes for you. And now?” She steps closer, her voice low and filled with contempt. “I’m very disappointed.”

Adora flinches, as if the words physically sting. She knows it’s true. her gaze dropping to the floor, the weight of Shadow Weaver’s words heavier than any blow. The silence stretches on, thick with tension. No one speaks, the air oppressive under Shadow Weaver’s unyielding scrutiny. The squad can feel the judgment settling over them like a dark, suffocating cloud. It's as though their very souls are being weighed.

Shadow Weaver’s eyes scan over them once more, taking in the exhausted, bruised faces of her squad. Her gaze lingers on each of them, cold and calculating, before she speaks again. Her voice is chilling, devoid of any warmth. "Consider this your last warning. Next time, you won’t be allowed to fail so easily."

The words hang in the air, a terrifying promise. A threat that no one dares to ignore.

Catra scoffs, breaking the silence, but her voice trembles slightly, betraying her. She stands from the floor, brushing herself off, but the tension in her shoulders and the nervous tremors in her limbs don’t go unnoticed. “We barely failed,” she mutters, forcing a defiance into her voice. She gestures toward the instructor, who’s still cowering under Shadow Weaver’s glare, his drunken state adding an extra layer of absurdity to the situation. “He said we weren’t even the losers.”

Shadow Weaver doesn’t acknowledge the remark, instead tightening her grip on the room’s atmosphere, the silence growing colder. "The other squadrons are failures. Useless. Led by idiots who somehow managed to stumble their way into Force Captain positions,” she says, her voice laced with venom. “But you… you are my squad. And you should behave as such."

“Catra can’t hold it in any longer. The anger rises up, hot and fierce, like a fire in her chest. She steps forward, her eyes flashing with defiance. “It’s unfair that you hold us to higher standards than them!” she sneers, unwavering even as Shadow Weaver locks eyes with her, a glare so cold it feels like it could freeze the very blood in her veins.

“And you,” Shadow Weaver sneers, her lip curling in disdain. “You broke protocol. You acted like an animal in this simulation. We both know you struggle with your mongrel instincts, but I thought you were better than that.”

The words hit Catra like a slap to the face. Her claws twitch, itching to lash out, but she holds herself in check. Instead, she growls, her voice low and full of venom. “No, you didn’t.” She narrows her eyes, the spark of defiance not fading. “I bet you increased the difficulty of the simulation just to—”

A slap.

The sharp crack of it echoes through the room, silencing the air. The sting of it lingers long after the sound fades, leaving a tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Catra stands frozen for a moment, her furred cheek stinging as blood wells up in four sharp lines, dark red against her peach-colored fur. The others blink in surprise, but none of them dare to move.

Catra’s expression hardens as she slowly raises her hand to touch her cheek, blood smearing across her fingers as her eyes burn with anger and humiliation. She doesn’t make a sound. Not a word. Not even a flinch.

Shadow Weaver stands before her, her hand still raised, the force of the slap lingering in the air between them. Her icy gaze doesn’t waver, not even for a second. “You will remember your place,” she says, her voice colder than ever, like the frost of a winter storm. “And you will learn respect. Or you will be discarded like the failure you are.”

Catra growls, almost as if she wants to lunge and rip shadow Weavers face off. Adora leans forward quickly and grabs her ankle. Keeping her in place. Catra glances down at her, her glare softening at Adora’s face. 

The tension in the room crackles with anger and fear, a volatile mixture that threatens to erupt at any moment. But at this moment, all they can do is stand, bruised and broken, beneath the unyielding weight of Shadow Weaver’s dominance.

Adora doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move. Her eyes stay fixed on the floor, the weight of her failure and the disapproval from both Shadow Weaver and herself pressing down on her chest.

“If I don’t see improvement by the end of the week at your next assessments…” Shadow Weaver’s voice trails off, the ominous weight of her words filling the room. “There will be consequences.”

TThe air in the room grows thick, a collective breath held by the squad, each one trying not to let their fear show. The tension is palpable as Shadow Weaver’s presence looms over them like a storm, her cold eyes scanning them all with a chilling finality.

She turns towards the door, her robes flowing behind her as she moves. But then, just as she reaches the threshold, she hesitates. The room stills, all eyes turning to her, waiting for her next move.

"Catra," Shadow Weaver says, her voice as icy and controlled as ever. She doesn’t look back, but her words carry an undeniable weight. “Come with me.”

Catra stiffens, a chill running down her spine. The others know what this means. The Force Captain’s quarters are never a place anyone wants to go after a failure. It’s where harsh punishments are handed down, where mistakes are “corrected” in ways that leave more than just bruises.

The silence is broken by Lonnie, her voice laced with quiet defiance. “Force Captain, if anyone deserves to be punished…”

“Oh, quite, dear,” Shadow Weaver cuts her off smoothly, her voice almost pleasant in its coldness. She turns slightly to glance at Lonnie, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. “You followed protocol perfectly. Only one of you broke it.”

The implication hangs in the air, and everyone in the room feels it—Catra. The others exchange uncomfortable glances, but none of them speak. They all know that Catra’s impulsiveness, her struggle with control, is often the source of her punishment.

Shadow Weaver’s smile is cold and sharp, her eyes crinkling ever so slightly with a cruel pleasure. “Catra, you’ve always been… special, haven’t you?” Her voice drops into a mocking sweetness, the words dripping with sarcasm. “But your instincts are still your weakness.”

Catra’s jaw tightens, her fists balling at her sides as she stands still, trying to suppress the tremor of anger that threatens to rise. She feels the eyes of the squad on her, but she refuses to meet their gaze, not wanting them to see the vulnerability she’s desperately trying to hide.

“You are dismissed,” Shadow Weaver says, her tone suddenly sharp, as she steps out of the room, her voice trailing after her like a sinister echo. “Catra, come”

She says it like she’s speaking to a dog and Catra is forced to follow like she is one.

The door slides shut with a heavy thud, leaving the rest of the squad standing in awkward silence. They can’t help but exchange uneasy glances. 

“Well you heard her”. Adora wipes the sweat from her brow. She lifts her staff. The others file out of the room, one by one, leaving her behind. They don't look at her, and she doesn't look at them. She can’t. She knows they're all thinking the same thing “this is her fault”

As the last of the squad leaves, Adora doesn’t hesitate. She activates the simulation, and the room floods with light. Holographic princesses materialize in an instant—opponents she’s fought countless times before, but they seem different now. More real. More menacing. Her movements become a blur as she lashes out, her staff cracking through the air, cutting down enemies with a speed and ferocity that mirrors the storm of thoughts whirling in her head.

Each strike is a way to push the darkness away. Each hit against the princesses feels like an outlet for all the frustration, for the crushing sense of failure gnawing at her insides.

the hours drag on, each passing minute adding to the weight of her exhaustion. Her muscles burn, her breath comes in short gasps, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t. If she does, the doubts will return. If she stops, she'll have to face what she’s become—a hollow shell of what she used to be. A useless failure.

It’s only when the simulation starts to glitch, flickering in and out of focus, that she finally stops. Her body is on autopilot, and it’s only now, in the quiet aftermath, that she notices just how much she’s been pushing herself. She’s drenched in sweat, her hands trembling from the intensity of her effort, but it doesn’t matter. Not yet.

Her chest heaves with each breath as she lowers her staff, wiping her face once more. She lets out a shuddering exhale, the harsh reality of what she’s been avoiding crashing down on her in the form of the buzzing silence that fills the room.

It’s then that the door to the simulation chamber opens, the faintest sound of footsteps echoing through the room. Adora tenses, her eyes flicking toward the door, expecting it to be someone from the squad. But when Catra steps into view, Adora grinds her teeth. 

There’s a harsh cut across Catra’s cheek, one deeper then what she was given hours earlier in the simulation room. 

Her fur is streaked with dirt and grime, and her clothes are torn in places, the remnants of a fight that has clearly taken its toll. But it’s not the physical damage that catches Adora’s attention. It’s the hollow look in Catra’s eyes—the one that mirrors her own pain and frustration.

“What did she do to you?” Adora asks, her voice barely a whisper, but the weight of it hangs heavy in the air.

Catra doesn’t answer right away. She just stands there for a moment, looking at Adora with a mixture of exhaustion and something else—something that Adora can’t quite place. It’s too raw, too vulnerable, for either of them to address.

Catra finally speaks, her voice rough from both the physical pain and the emotions she’s holding back. “She wanted to make sure I didn’t forget who I was. Or maybe she just wanted to remind me that no matter how much I fight, I’m never going to be good enough.” Her words hang in the air like poison, each one more bitter than the last. “She said I didn’t follow protocol. That I was... disappointing.”

Adora’s heart aches at the words, at the way Catra’s shoulders slump under the weight of her own struggle. It’s familiar—too familiar—and Adora doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know how to fix this. She doesn’t know if she even can.

Catra’s eyes flicker toward the simulation console, noticing the flickering holograms and the stillness of the room. Her lips curl into a half-hearted, bitter smile. “You were still at it, huh? Guess you’re not much better than me.”

Adora stands there, unable to meet Catra’s gaze, her mind whirling with the unspoken truth. She’s not She-Ra anymore. She’s just a broken shell, trying to hold everything together when everything’s falling apart. And it’s not just her anymore. It’s Catra, too. 

Adora leans against the control panel, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She lets out a long sigh, trying to shake off the weight of the failed simulation. Her muscles ache, her mind is clouded with frustration, and she feels the sting of disappointment settle heavily in her bones. With a grimace, she slides down the side of the wall, her body giving out from the weight of the past few hours.

Catra slumps down next to her on the training field, the familiar thud of her body against the ground soothing almost.  She doesn’t mind the sweat that sticks to Adora’s arm when Adora leans into her, the dampness mixing between them, but it’s the silence that lingers uncomfortably in the air. Without a word, Catra hands Adora the water pouch, her gesture soft but unspoken, like a quiet understanding that neither of them wants to break.. 

She doesn't say anything as Adora takes a gulp, and then another. 

“I'm sorry” Adora mutters, slouching further against the wall. Ignoring the way sweat smeers against the metal 

Catra turns to her, eyes narrowing in disbelief. She looks at Adora as though she doesn’t quite understand, the question hanging heavy in the air. “What for?” she asks, as if Adora hadn't ruined their entire simulation. As if it wasn't her stupid beginner level mistakes that cost them first place. As if it wasn't her fault Catra got dragged off by Shadow Weaver like a scapegoat. 

“For fucking up” Adora ducks her head when her voice cracks and her burning eyes start to water. 

“That wasn’t your fault, and you know it,” Catra says firmly, her voice soft but cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a thread of steel. “None of this is on you.” She pauses for a beat, searching Adora’s face for any sign of understanding. “Adora, we weren’t ready for that simulation. None of us where. Have you seen Kyle? He couldn’t even keep his focus.” Her voice falters just slightly, but she doesn’t let the vulnerability seep through. “You were not the only one who messed up.”

She knows that. She knows she wasn’t alone in the failure. But the pressure she feels to fix everything, to make things right, keeps pushing her down. She should have done better. She should have had enough. But hearing Catra’s words—You weren’t the only one—feels like a small balm on a wound she didn’t even know was still open.

We would have survived if I hadn't-

Catra takes a deep breath, glancing over the empty room, her eyes scanning the room for shadows someone could hang out in. “I mean, look at us. We’re all struggling. Hell, we can barely keep it together long enough to finish one mission. We’re under pressure every damn day. But we’re not gonna solve any of it by beating ourselves up. We can’t fix what’s broken if we’re too busy thinking we’re the ones who broke it in the first place.” She lets the words settle

“No one got separated. Protocol was always followed and we even managed to kill a few princesses.” 

Adora just glares at her

“You can't always win them, Adora. Sometimes you have to learn from them. “

“Thanks,” Adora says finally, her voice barely audible. She wipes at her eyes again, but this time, the tears feel a little less heavy. She doesn’t feel so alone at this moment. “But that was some inspirational bull shit. “ I’ll help you clean up, Come on. You smell like shit”

Catra shoves her hard and laughs, “if anyone smells like shit its the one of us that CAN sweat.”

--------)0(--------

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Glimmer snores loudly from even across the camp. Adora might actually be imagining things, no one can snore that loud, but she can't sleep. she creeps past the loud tent as quietly as she can, hoping to keep from disturbing both Glimmer and Bow. 

The latter having run across camp to see if the news was true, if the princess had returned. he has smiled wildly when he saw them, tossing his bow from his back and scooping Glimmer up in hug, spinning her around.

"Glimmer! your alive. Thank the Gods!" he sets her down and pulls Adora into a less enthusiastic but still emotional hug. he wipes tears from his eyes at the sight of her, "by the gods, Adora! we had assumed the worst. I thought you were gone, taken out by that blast"

"The blast?" Adora asks, her hands are shaking. she isn't entirely sure why but they tremble from where they hold the sleeping Cubsy to her chest. Bow's eyes flit down to the Cub in confusion before Glimmer is interrupting. 

"Bow!" Glimmer interrupts, pulling him back in this time for a kiss. "I'm so happy you're ok" she says when they break for breath. Bow smiles wider. 

"me?" he laughs letting himself be tugged along towards the canteen, "I'm not the one that was fucking abducted!"

Glimmer didn't let Adora get a word in for the rest of the night. Not unless it was to spill Horde secrets she had learned in her time there. she didn't get to ask Bow about "the blast" the one that could have taken her out. one that she definitely doesn't remember. 

she winces as she cracks a twig in the grass, freezing ever so slightly when Glimmers breath stops, snorts, and then starts again. a sigh of relief caught between her lips when no one wakes. she has somewhere she wants to be, and she wants to do it alone. 

Cubsy coos in her sleep and Adora smiles. Alone plus one maybe. Cubsy and Adora, partners in crime. 

Not much crime can happen when you're asleep, Cubsy seems to agree. She doesn't even stir when Adora wakes SwiftWind. nor does she wake when he snorts quite loudly and exclaim. "Adora! I knew you would beat them! I heard the news, my dear!"

"shhh" Adora shushes him, placing a hand on his nose, SwiftWind calms just slightly, trotting his feat excitedly in place.  "can you give me a ride?'

"a ride? but you only just got back" Swiftwind snorts and eyes the bundle against Adora's chest. "what is that?!" he neighs and back up against the tree he was sleeping against, eyes wide.

"Nothing to be scared of" Adora says, following him as he backs away, covering the cub up more with her cloak. "I'll only be gone for a couple hours, I swear. I just need to speak with LightHope."

"But we don't like LightHope" SwiftWind whispers, sniffing at the cub in Adora's arms. Cubsy sleepily reaches up at pats the horse's nose. He doesn't ask about it again and Adora is grateful. 

"yeah, but she'll probably be more forth coming then anyone else. She's programmed to at least answer when I ask a question"

Swifty trots in place, living his nose form snuffling at the cub in Adora's arm and looking around her at the sleeping encampment. probably listening for the guards on lookout duty. 

"alright" Swift wind says, ducking his head, "but only if this is a perfectly safe mission"

"safe as can be" Adora promises, grinning and grabbing hold of his man to swing her leg over is back. He takes care taking off as gently as he can as to not wake the sleeping baby. It's the gentlest landing Swiftwind could manage when they arrive. Adora makes him wait outside, shifting uncomfortably in his concern as she opens the doors and slips inside.  

Adora pulls the hood of her cloak lower over her face as she sneaks through the shadows of the Crystal Castle’s outer halls. Cubsy stirs in the sling against her chest, making a soft noise, but she doesn't wake. Adora adjusts the fabric carefully, making sure the baby is secure. 

She's taking a risk being here, more of a risk bringing Cubsy,  but she doesn't trust the Rebellion to give her the truth. Not anymore. she isn't sure if they even know. She nows better than to trust their silence though. Not completely. Not anymore. Sneaking out wasn't hard, seeing as their numbers kept dwindling. 

Adora forgot how much it echoed in here. The place is technically a crystal cave. 

She slipped into the main chamber, her boots whispering against the smooth crystal floor. The air was thick with dust and what can only be the scent of those crystal spiders. it's not magic, it can't be. But it shimmers like it is. The control panel for Light hope. sat at the center of the room, its soft glow pulsating like a heartbeat. She hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, shifting Cubsy so she could free a hand to activate it.

Cubsy coos happily. The first smile Adora has seen out of her in hours. Nearly days as the light shimmers before Adora. 

The light brightened, swirling up into the air around her. Images flickered-brief, disjointed glimpses of her past. The cadets’ barracks in the Horde. Training with Catra. Running through the Fright Zone as children.

And finally

The light solidified, forming into a familiar figure. A towering holographic presence with flowing energy for hair and glowing, unreadable eyes. Light Hope.

"Adora," Light Hope’s voice echoed, layered with ancient wisdom and precision. "What do you seek?"

Cubsy let out a delighted coo and reached out with tiny hands, waving them through the flickering light of Light Hope’s form. She giggled, trying to grasp the glowing strands of the holographic entity. Light Hope barely reacted, though a slight flicker passed through her projection, as if mildly inconvenienced.

“You have a child.” Light hopes eye twitches. 

"Oh” Adora looks down at cubsy and then back up to Light Hope. “she’s- well- she's not mine”

"Why do you burden yourself with this distraction?" Light Hope asked, her glowing eyes narrowing slightly. Distracton. it reminds her so much of Shadow Weaver that she flinches."Your duty is to Etheria, to She-Ra’s purpose. And yet, you waste your time caring for a child when you should be focused on restoring your power."

“That's not” the guilt rocks Adora like a bowing ship. “I'm not here for this, I'm here for- Adora straightened, her pulse thumping thickly through her veins. "I need to remember. The sword—what happened to it? Why can't I summon She-Ra? I can't even feel it"

Light Hope’s expression does not change, but there was something colder in her tone when she responds. "You broke the sword? How could you? The sword is a symbol of power, of strength. It's unbreakable. So is your connection to She-ra and her power.

“Broken? I didn't I- I don’t know! I can’t remember! That’s why I’m here!" Adora’s voice rose in frustration, her grip tightening around Cubsy instinctively. Light Hope’s glowing eyes flickered, scanning her, as if dissecting her very essence, her every weakness. The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of expectation and disappointment pressing down on her like a storm waiting to break.

Light Hope flickers, squinting at Adora. “It seems you have extensive damage to your brain”

“What?!” Adora’s voice breaks in the middle. Her own hand flying to her head. Cubsy looks up at her. Momentarily shocked out of playing with the hologram. 

A sharp, searing sensation jolted through her mind, and suddenly she was somewhere else. A great beam of light. Glimmer screaming. Queen Angella’s voice, urgent, desperate. And her own hands-her own sword-splintering, breaking apart as power surged uncontrollably.

It fizzed up her arms, sending goosebumps and the phantom pain of skin ripping apart, 

Memories rush past her like a dizzy spell. 

The world around her shifted, stabilizing into a new memory.

Adora stands in the middle of a battlefield.

The air is thick with smoke and the scent of scorched earth. Warriors charge past her, weapons clashing, explosions shaking the ground beneath her feet. Yet, none of them see her. None of them can touch her. They pass through her like mist, their forms dissolving into fragmented holographic blocks before reforming as they emerge on the other side.

Cubsy giggled, reaching out at the warriors that disintegrate and reassemble around them. She squealed with delight, batting at the glowing fragments before they flicker back into full figures. Adora can feel her heart pounding in her chest. This isn’t just a vision—this is something deeper. Something real.

Then, a voice cuts through the din of battle.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She spun, instinctively stepping back at the sight of Catra in the battlefield. Light Hope stands next to her, examining the form that doesn’t belong in the memory. Catra smiles in the memory, scared cheeks pulling back happily as she rushes forward toward Adora.

She disappeared before she could reach Adora and the cub in her arms.

Light Hope’s hand lifted, her fingers twitching as if dismissing an error in the system. “Irrelevant,” she murmurs. The battlefield shifts, the figures warping around them as the memory twists, swirling in a spiral of light before refocusing.

Adora gasped as she sees herself-her She-Ra form, standing tall and radiant in the middle of the battlefield. The sword was whole, held forward, the air vibrating with raw, unimaginable power. Energy surged from the blade, crackling like a storm about to break. Before her, the Horde army stands frozen, they seem to understand that this amount of magic could wipe them all out in a single sweep.

Her She-Ra self looks terrified.

Adora can see it in her own glowing eye, hesitation, fear, horror at what was about to happen. The power thrumming in her hands, uncontainable, unstoppable. This wasn’t a battle. This was an execution.

“No,” Adora whispered, stepping forward, but the memory doesn’t acknowledge her. It plays on, unyielding, forcing her to witness what came next.

Light Hope’s voice was calm, absolute. in awe “This is what you are made for.”

The memory surges forward, drawing her into the moment just before the strike. Adora reached out, desperate to stop it, to change something, anything—

But the light consumes everything.

She-Ra screams, spinning the blade on its hilt and slamming it into the ground. The sword shatters and explodes. She-Ra disappears, and Adora watched this version of herself be cut by the exploding pieces of her own sword. The shards ripping through her, light bursting from every wound.

When the blinding glow faded, Adora was standing in the Fright Zone. 

Catra stands before her with a smile. Her face is smooth, babyish. a former version of Catra before the war got this bad. Before the portal was set off and Catra sacrificed herself to close it.

"Are you kidding?" she asks, leaning back on her heels and laughing. She tucks her tail around her body and leans forward into Adora's space. Cubsy laughs happily reaching out to the younger version of her mother. 

Catra ignores her in favor of shoving Adora's shoulder playfully. "You ran all the way here just to tell me you won? I would have figured it out!"

Cubsy wines when Catra doesn't even acknowledge her. 

I wanted to tell you myself" Adora finds herself saying

Adora stands before the memory of Catra, watching as the scene unfolds just as it had in the past. The light flickered in the haze of the old memories, and everything is bathed in that familiar, almost nostalgic glow. She can feel the weight of her youthful self, the pride of having perfect marks in hand. 

It was a rare moment back then, when Catra had helped her-sitting together, side by side, their thoughts in sync. A rare moment of quiet where Adora and Catra could sit on their bunk. Huddled over paper and books. 

Catra had replied, her voice warm, almost approving, "you nailed it."

“We nailed it” Adora grins and slings an arm around Catra. Cubsy held close to Adora’s chest tries to reach out to the woman that would become her mother. Crying when her hand fazes right through. 

Adora’s heart twists. Was this the last time? The last moment she had felt that connection, when Catra had still been the one to cheer her on?

The last time they had a happy moment in the Horde?

But Cubsy... Cubsy, curled in her arms now in this memory, wasn’t smiling.

The baby cat’s ears were flat against her head, her tail flicking in distress. she looked from Adora to the memory of Catra and back. Tears start to build in the young ones eyes. 

Adora bit her lip, her hand instinctively reaching up to tug at the modern cloak draped over her shoulders. It felt so out of place here, so wrong in this world of memories.

But Catra doesn’t notice.

She could only say what she had in that moment—nothing more, nothing beyond the words of the past.

“Sure, we did it, Adora," the memory Catra repeats, her gaze distant, unaware of the years that had passed, the changes in Adora’s appearance, or the cloak now wrapped around her shoulders. "I told you, didn’t I?". she freezes like that, a girlish smile on her face as she looks at Adora as if she's still 17 and trying to get perfect grades. 

Adora lowers her gaze to Cubsy, brushing a hand through her fur.

“Light Hope?” Adora’s voice cracked as she called out, her gaze darting around the memory, unsure if it could still hear her. 

She spins around, her heart thudding in her chest. The edges of the memory are blurring, warping like smoke slipping through her fingers. And then, with a soft flicker and a shimmering pulse of light, Light Hope’s form materialized before her.

“Your memories are being finicky,” Light Hope’s voice echoed through the haze, its form glitching in and out of clarity. The glowing entity hovering in front of Adora, flickering like a broken hologram. “It seems that was all you had on 'Broken Sword.'”

Adora swallows hard. Her grip tightening on Cubsy, her fur warm and comforting. “No... there has to be more. Why can’t I remember more?” she muttered, her voice shaking.

But before Light Hope could respond, the faintest sound—footsteps—breaks through the disorienting hum of the memory. The faintest whisper of movement in the air, the subtle pressure of an intruder.

Adora’s heart lurched in her chest as she spun again, her breath catching in her throat.

Glimmer.

The princess strides into the scene, her eyes flashing with anger, her arms crossed over her chest as she entered the shifting light. “Adora!” Glimmer’s voice cracked through the illusion like a thunderclap. “Where have you been? It’s the middle of the night! I knew something was wrong when I couldn’t find you!”

Adora’s mouth gapes as if to defend herself But Glimmer wasn’t having it.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? You’re supposed to be in bed, not... not... wandering off alone with Cubsy!” Glimmer’s voice shook with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking? You're wrapped up in a Horde cloak!”

“We are in Horde territory!” She glanced back at Light Hope, who flickered weakly, her eyes on Glimmer.

That is besides the point!”

“I—” Adora’s words were barely a whisper, her eyes flitting to the still disappearing outline of a young Catra. “I’m sorry, Glimmer, But you and Angella weren't telling me everything! What else was I supposed to do!

“Trust us!” Glimmer’s face softened, but only for a moment, as her eyes darted to the empty space where Catra had been moments ago. She knew what this meant, knew the heartache of what had just occurred. But she didn’t let up.

“No. You need to come back. You can’t keep doing this, Adora. You can’t just run away every time something gets hard.” Glimmer’s words were firm, but there was a deep sadness behind them. 

“I wasn't running away! I was finding answers you refused to tell me. You think I’m just running away?!” Adora’s voice broke, but the fire in her words didn’t waver. “You don’t trust me, do you? That’s why you didn’t tell me—that’s why you kept it from me.”

Glimmer faltered, confusion flashing across her face. “What are you talking about?”

Adora took a deep breath, the words coming in a rush, almost desperate. “You knew-you knew about the massacre. You knew what happened with the sword. You knew I almost destroyed an entire army—and you didn’t tell me!”

The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Adora could see the cold realization flicker in Glimmer’s eyes, and for the briefest moment, Adora felt a pang of guilt. But the hurt of having been kept in the dark, of not being trusted with the truth, was louder than anything else.

“You didn’t think I could handle it, did you?” Adora continued, her voice low but burning. “You thought I’d crumble under the weight of it. But you don’t get to decide what I can or can’t face. I need to know what happened to my sword.”

Glimmer’s face paled as Adora’s words hit her hard. She opened her mouth, but the words faltered, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. The tension in the air is palpable. But Adora couldn’t hold it back any longer.

The memory of Catra, the one thing that had given her some sense of peace, was now gone. The anger that had been brewing for so long spilled out uncontrollably. It wasn’t just about Catra anymore, it was about everything. Everything that had been kept from her.

“You think I don’t know what it feels like to lose everything?” Adora’s voice was a whisper, but there was no mistaking the steel in it now. “I don’t need you to protect me from the truth. I need answers. And if I have to get them alone, I will.”

“You think I kept this from you because I don’t trust you?” Glimmer’s voice is trembling with frustration. “I kept it from you because I care about you. I care about what this could do to you if you knew. But I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.” Her gaze softened, though there was still a hard edge to it. “But that’s not why you’re really here, is it? You’re here because you think you can fix everything by yourself. But you can’t. Not alone.”

Adora exhales, a long, shaky breath. she grits her teeth in anger “I’m sorry... I... I need to be alone right now.” Her voice was hoarse, heavy with unshed tears.

Glimmer isn’t having it. She stepped forward, her gaze softening, determination etched in her features. “No. We’re in this together, Adora. We always will be. This war isn't She-ra's problem it's all of ours! I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

Adora grit her teeth harder, her fists clenching. "I’ve been doing this alone for most of my life. Alright? That's how I do things. Alone. That's how a cadet does things" She swallows hard. "I broke the sword. I’m the one who couldn’t do it. It’s my failure, Glimmer."

Glimmer’s eyes softened for a moment, but then her jaw tightened. “Adora-no. That’s not- It was a bad idea from the start, but it's not your fault.. The truth is- no, that doesnt matter." Glimmer shakes her head and stares Adora down "we can fix this. We can still make it right."

Adora’s chest tightens at the words. How could they fix a shattered sword they don't even have anymore? Does Glimer even realize how desperate her words sound?

“You’re not alone,” Glimmer insisted, stepping closer, her voice resolute. “You never have been. And no matter how hard this is, we’re going to fix this together.”

Adora didn’t say anything at first. But the softness in Glimmer’s gaze-

Adora whispers, “I don’t know how to fix this Glimmer. This isn't something you can fix. there isn't any 'doing this together' the sword is gone. do you understand. I broke it! It's gone!”

Glimmer’s expression softened and just for a second breaks.

The sun is just beginning to crest over the horizon by the time Glimmer and Adora make it back to the base of Mount Candilla. 

Adora adjusts the weight of Cubsy against her chest, tightening her cloak around them both. The little cub finally dozed off deep in the forest, soothed by the warmth of Adora’s body and the rhythmic movement of their steps. Now, the baby’s small, soft breaths puff against the fabric.

As they near the outskirts of town, Adora casts a sideways glance at Glimmer and immediately sighs. Glimmer is sparkling in the sunrise. “You’re gonna get molly-whopped dressed like that,” she mutters.

Glimmer snaps her head toward her, frowning. “Excuse me?”

Adora gestures vaguely at her. “I mean, look at you. You’re glowing-literally. You might as well wear a sign that says I am a princess, please kidnap me. ”

Glimmer scowls, then glances down at herself. Her outfit is, as always, a dazzling array of purples and silvers, the fabric shimmering every time she moves. Even now, under the soft morning light, she stands out like a beacon.

“I’m dressed fine ,” Glimmer argues, lifting her chin defiantly.

“You’re dressed like a princess about to accidentally stroll straight through Horde-occupied territory,” Adora deadpans. She shifts Cubsy slightly, adjusting the weight of the baby before shooting Glimmer another pointed look. “And do you really wanna be the reason we get spotted before we even make it past the first market stall?”

Glimmer crosses her arms. “Well, excuse me for not having a secret wardrobe full of ‘formerly Horde soldiers trying to blend in with the commoners’ fashion.”

“I got this recently!” Adora tucks her cloak tighter around herself, slightly offended. Adora rolls her eyes at Glimmers glare. “ we wouldn't even be in this situation if you hadn't scared Swift wind off. I’m not saying you need to roll around in the dirt or anything, but maybe tone it down a little? Less ‘royal heir to Bright Moon,’ more… I don’t know, ‘someone trying not to be immediately recognizable?’”

Glimmer huffs, grumbling under her breath, but finally gives in, stomping off toward the creek they had been following back to town. She doesn’t stop until she’s knee-deep in the cool water, the hem of her outfit dragging under the surface. With a dramatic sigh, she scoops up a handful of thick, wet mud and slaps it onto the bright silver of her armor, smearing it over the shimmering purple fabric with exaggerated frustration. She works in silence, rubbing away every gleam and sparkle until the once-pristine royal attire is dulled and dirtied.

She turns back to Adora, arms spread wide, her entire demeanor dripping with sarcasm. “Like that any better?”

Adora drags a hand down her face. “You really had to be this dramatic about it?”

“I highly doubt I was going to get mobbed,” Glimmer mutters, kicking at the water before trudging back to dry land. She shakes her hands off, sending flecks of mud flying. “But whatever . Let’s just get this over with.”

The streets are crowded as they weave their way through town, keeping their heads down and avoiding as many soldiers as possible. 

Glimmer forces them to stop at the last stall before the woods. Baskets of fresh fruit sit stacked behind a weathered wooden counter. Glimmer shakes hands with the man behind the counter, papers passing between tight fists. Adora reaches out, running her fingers over a bright red apple, but something else catches her eye—something small, barely noticeable at first. Her breath hitches.

“This is Catra’s stamp,” she mumbles, her fingers tracing the edge of a wooden crate. She lifts the lid slightly, revealing a familiar marking burned into the surface.

Glimmer’s head whips toward her so fast her cloak nearly slips off. “What?” she asks, voice going slightly squeaky.

Adora doesn’t answer immediately. Her heart pounds as she stares at the emblem. She knows this mark—it’s the same one she used to watch Catra carve absentmindedly into reports, into the corners of tables, onto the wooden beams of the Force Captain barracks. Her signature.

“When I was in the Fright Zone, I mostly just watched Catra work,” Adora murmurs, voice distant. She runs her thumb over the marking, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease settling in her gut. “This is her stamp. Her signature in a way.”

Glimmer looks between Adora and the crate, brows furrowing. “Are you sure ?”

Adora swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

They share a look, Glimmer frowning almost immediately and glaring down at the carving.

“Of course it is.”

Both women jump at the sudden voice, their hands instinctively tensing toward their weapons as a Horde soldier drops a heavy crate at their feet. The wood groans under the weight, dust kicking up into the stale air. He sneers down at the box, then spits on the lid with undisguised contempt.

“That's Force Captain Catra's alright. She's a complete idiot.” His voice drips with venom as he glares at the supplies. “Wasting resources that should be used for us- the soldiers. The ones actually putting our lives on the line to protect these ungrateful towns. And for what? So these useless people can sit around, doing nothing while we bleed for them?”

Adora stiffens. Her grip tightens around Cubsy, holding the baby protectively against her chest. Beside her, Glimmer shifts on her feet, hands clenched beneath her cloak. Before either of them can move, another soldier steps forward, dropping a second crate on top of the first with a heavy thud.

“Hey,” he says sharply, eyes narrowing at his comrade. “If Captain Catra hadn't fought to get these supplies to this town, they’d either be dead by now or turning against us.”

He gestures toward the outskirts of the settlement, to the rotting fields where the last failed crops still wilt in the dry earth. Scattered townspeople move among them, gathering what little remains, their faces worn and hollow. “Yeah sure, They’d be starving. You think that makes our job any easier?” He shakes his head. “Force Captain Catra made our lives a lot fucking harder by making us babysit this shit hole instead of burning it to the ground”

“And lose bodies for the new empire? Your an idiot”

The first soldier lets out a sharp scoff, stepping aggressively into his comrade’s space, jabbing a finger into the metal of his breastplate. “Townspeople should be grateful that we're here to protect them! They should be praising us just for setting foot in this dump!”

Tension crackles between them like a live wire. The second soldier’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. Around them, a few other Horde troops glance over, some shifting uncomfortably, others looking interested in the brewing fight.

Neither soldier has noticed Adora and Glimmer yet, not beyond the intentional uncountable greeting, but the two women instinctively take a step back, trying to blend into the crowd before the argument draws too much attention. Adora keeps her hood low, her grip on Cubsy tightening. If these soldiers recognize her, or worse, Glimmer, things could turn ugly fast.

“You look awfully familiar.”

The second guard narrows his eyes, scrutinizing them with suspicion. His hands settle on his hips, fingers drumming against the leather of his belt. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Adora’s stomach drops.

Beside her, Glimmer stiffens under his gaze, her grip tightening on the edge of her cloak. “Nope,” she blurts, voice cracking mid-word. “We’re just passing through.”

The first guard isn’t convinced. His gaze sharpens as he steps forward, boots scuffing against the dusty ground. “Passing through, huh?” He extends a hand, palm up. “Then let’s see your papers.”

Adora swallows thickly, shifting Cubsy in her arms. Her heart pounds in her ears. Papers. Of course they needed papers. The Horde had tightened security in occupied territories, especially with the war escalating. Identification checks were becoming routine, meant to weed out spies and deserters.

They should have prepared for this.

She tightens her grip on the baby, glancing quickly at Glimmer, who looks just as panicked.

The first guard’s patience wears thin. He steps closer, looming over them. “You do have papers, don’t you?” His fingers twitch toward the baton at his hip. “Because if not, we’re going to have a real problem.”

Adora forces herself to keep breathing, her mind racing for a way out before things take a turn they can’t escape from.

And before the soldiers realize exactly who they’re dealing with.

“Well, uhm” Adora coughs to clear her quickly tightening throat, “you see”

Glimmer kicks the first one in the shin, hard. He keels over and Adora socks the other one in the face. Her fist mostly hits helmet but the guys helmet spins on his head and he collapses to the floor. 

“Run!” Glimmer gasps, grabbing Adora’s arm and yanking her toward the back of the store. 

Their escape attempt is too little too late. yes, they escape. But they unfortunate enough to not go unnoticed. a flare is already lit and launched into the air by the time they make it out of the city. they must assume their location is compromised.

--------)0(--------

Catra stumbles through her door, her steps uneven, barely controlled. The moment she crosses the threshold, her leg gives out, sending her crashing toward the floor.

Taggart is there in an instant, stepping forward with a steadying hand. But before he can touch her, she snarls—a low, feral sound that makes him freeze.

"Catra-”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she snaps, the words nearly slurred. She sways but manages to brace herself against the wall, claws digging into the metal. Her tail flicks behind her, sharp and agitated.

Taggart’s face hardens, his usual composure slipping as his frown deepens. He fully turns to her now, arms crossed.

“When was the last time you ate?” His voice is even, but there’s no mistaking the concern threaded beneath it.

Catra scoffs, baring her fangs in something that’s not quite a smile. “What do you care?” Her ears flatten slightly, betraying the exhaustion she’s trying so hard to mask.

Taggart exhales sharply through his nose. “Quite a lot, actually.”

She looks up at him then, eyes narrow and guarded, like she’s waiting for the catch. Waiting for the inevitable scolding or lecture she’s too tired to deal with.

But Taggart doesn’t move to grab her. He doesn’t push. He just stands there, steady and unwavering. 

“Yeah, well, Keep it to yourself” Catra huffs, shaking her head as if to brush him off, but when she takes a step forward, her knees buckle again. This time, Taggart doesn’t ask permission, he just catches her.

She stiffens in his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. “Don’t start,” he mutters. “Just- just let me help, alright?”

Taggart ignores Catra’s spitting hisses, her weak attempts to swat him away, and instead tightens his grip around her waist, hoisting her up with ease. She’s too unsteady to resist properly, her weight pressing against him as he pulls her cane from a nearby guard’s hands and shoves it under her arm.

“Hold yourself up,” he mutters, voice gruff but not unkind.

Catra glares at him, teeth bared, but she takes the support.

A slow, eerie chuckle echoes through the room.

“What a touching scene,” Hordak sneers.

They both freeze.

Hordak stumbles forward from the shadows of his sanctum, his movements unsteady, as if he were drunk—more drunk than Catra, at least. His suit sputters and spits sparks, the damaged circuits inside hissing with protest. The blue glow of his remaining tech flickers erratically, casting jagged shadows across the walls.

His red eyes gleam with something unreadable.

“Father and pet, working together again.”

His lips curl into something resembling a smile, but it’s all teeth and no warmth. He drags himself forward, stopping just short of them, a clawed hand bracing heavily against his desk. The force of it makes the surface groan under his weight.

Catra stiffens, but Taggart is already subtly stepping in front of her, muscles coiled like a spring.

Hordak doesn’t acknowledge him. His gaze is locked on Catra.

“I was so wrong to separate you before,” he muses, tilting his head as if this revelation genuinely amuses him. “My mistake.”

And then, before either of them can react, his clawed fingers are suddenly cupping Catra’s cheek.

Taggart tenses. Catra goes rigid.

Hordak hums, tilting her face slightly, as if inspecting a piece of machinery rather than a person.

“The two greatest engineers in the Horde,” he continues, almost fondly. “Besides the traitor Entrapta, of course. No one can deny her genius.”

His grip tightens.

“But you two…” His voice dips, low and dangerous. “You will prove your worth.”

"Hordak, my apologies—”

“For your explosive failure?”

Hordak’s voice cuts through the room like a blade, sharp and mocking.

Catra grits her teeth, her ears pressing back against her head. "Yes, for my explosive failure," she grinds out, forcing the words past the bitter taste on her tongue.

Hordak watches her, unreadable, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the sanctum. He leans forward slightly, his suit hissing as damaged components struggle to keep up.

"I find it very interesting," he muses, his tone almost light, almost amused, "that you ‘lose sight’ of Adora the same day, the same hour our little Queen Glimmer escapes."

Catra swallows. The room feels stifling. She doesn't flinch, doesn't waver. "Yes, a very unfortunate coincidence," she replies, her voice steady despite the tension winding tight in her chest.

Hordak throws his head back and laughs—a deep, guttural sound that starts hearty but soon warps into a hacking, rattling cough. He braces himself against the desk, his body trembling for a brief moment before he composes himself.

Then he levels her with a sharp-toothed grin."A coincidence!" His amusement vanishes in an instant. The temperature in the room seems to drop.

"Tell me, Force Captain," his voice is quiet now, far more dangerous, "do you truly take me for a fool?"

Catra opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Her throat tightens, her mind scrambling for something—anything—that won’t damn her further.

Taggart shifts beside her, stepping forward as if to interject, but Hordak moves first.

“It doesn’t matter now.” His voice is final, cutting off any further discussion before it can begin. "Your enlightenment is weeks away. Days, even."

Catra barely has time to process those words before Hordak’s cold, clawed fingers clamp around the back of her neck. A sharp jolt of panic flares through her spine, but she forces herself to stay still, to not flinch. To react would be a weakness.

Taggart tenses, his hand hovering close to his sidearm, but he doesn’t dare move against Hordak. He can only follow closely behind as their leader drags Catra forward, through the dim corridors of the sanctum, until they reach a heavy, reinforced door. It slides open with a hiss, and inside. Hordak's personal office. The runestone.

Glowing, humming with restrained energy, barely contained by the thick chains that coil around it like vines. And there—strapped haphazardly to its surface, held in place by crude metal braces and arcane wiring— pieces of Adora shattered sword. 

It's haphazard and looks like something out of a kids book. There's no way his idea is backed by science.  No way it'll work.

Hordak watches her reaction with a knowing smile.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he murmurs.

“It’s idiotic.” Catra scoffs, crossing her arms despite the dull ache radiating through her body. Her tail flicks in irritation as she glares at the crude mess of wires and metal strapped to the runestone. “There’s no way this shit will work.”

Hordak’s red eyes flash dangerously. “You’re going to make it work,” he snarls, his grip tightening on the back of her neck before shoving her forward. She stumbles but catches herself, baring her fangs in a silent snarl.

“You two—geniuses,” he spits the word like a curse, gaze shifting between her and Taggart. “Are going to finish this.”

Taggart remains silent, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He knows better than to argue when Hordak is like this. But Catra—Catra never knows when to stop.

“And if we don’t?” she challenges, her voice low, testing the boundaries of her defiance.

Hordak tilts his head, considering her for a moment. Then, without warning, he steps forward, seizing her chin in his cold, clawed grip.

“Then all those little bombs placed in etheria will be off. Thousands will die and it'll be your fault.”

hey! Drunkpuppy let me know this! 

"Artist credits (since you asked):
1. CrackedFishTank on their tumblr.
2. Pilpopilpo (obviously signed)
3. ... not sure on this one.
4. PapersEverywhere, from a now-deleted post on Xitter (@papers_ev)."

Chapter Text

--------)0(--------

Catra yanks her hand away as the electricity burrs its way up her arm. She hisses and quickly pulls the glove off her hand before the fabric can shock her anymore. The sting sobers her some, though she can still feel the alcohol coursing through her blood and buzzing through her veins.

It's a familiar shock though it's been some time since she’s felt it as strongly as this. And with this much alcohol in her blood. 

It makes her wonder how she would react if she were struck by lightning. 

It's not like it's a totally outlandish idea. Catra has been through enough chance encounters that she should start wearing rubber soled boots. 

She looks down her scarred legs and at her old scuffed boots and realizes that she is. 

She winces at the sharp screech echoing from the comms table.  It's the only sound in Horde’s sanctum beyond the tick tick ticking of Catra and her new project. Catra picks up another shard and sticks it lightly into the puddy, using her thumb against the garnet to smoosh it into place. 

She yanks her hand away as she’s zapped through again. 

“Damn it, what kind of useless gloves are these?” she snaps, shaking out her stinging fingers.

The fabric of her other hand is burning where it made contact with the black garnet, red fibers sizzling away. 

“The kind that should be electricity proof” Taggart mutters, he’s fortunately not handling the stone at all. Instead he’s on his back beneath the control panel of Hordak’s room. Doing what? Catra has no clue. 

He doesn't seem very keen on telling her either. He doesn’t really tell her anything these days, nothing about the rapidly dwindling numbers of Horde soldiers, Nothing about the rations crisis, and sure as hell and heaven and Etheria nothing about what he’s up to underneath the shit box that is Hordak’s desk. 

Catra taps at her Coms pad, her shoulder drooping when her usually crazy schedule is empty. Nothing. No dying soldiers, not even a broken skiff that needs repairing. 

It seems as soon as Catra stepped away from the tactics and planning scene there was no one to perform said tactics anyway. The fright zone feels barren and empty. Besides her own personal guard Catra has only seen Lonnie. 

“Lots of help you are” Catra mutters darkly, sticking her useless glove back on her hand and instead using her cane to tap the shard into place. “What are you even doing over there?”

“None of your damn business that's what.” 

Catra growls and harshly shoves a last wire into place. It squishes into the soft jelly like substance that holds Adora’s sword upright against black garnet, modge podged together with C-4 and explosive jelly. If Hordak’s plan doesn’t work it'll surely blow everybody up. 

“Well it would sure be nice if you could buck up and help me out” Catra walks over to him and taps her cane against the control panel until he looks up. “It's not like I’m crippled or anything”

Taggart scoffs and shoves her cane away. “Crippled my ass, you still move around like you're 25”

“I am 25!” Catra growls, knocking the old man in the knees. Taggart grunts but stays his course under the control panel. 

“Exactly, we both know that ‘woe is me’ ‘crippled are thou” schtick is just that. A shtick”

Catra looks at him incredulously, “are you not seeing my crippled body. I'm as injured as they come! Children are more useful than me!”

Taggart peeks out from under the panel and gives Catra the raised eyebrow. “I'm just saying, you can run fast when you want to. Even if it does look a little funny. And you do that thing where you blend into the shadows and sneak up on people. But if you want to be a useless cripple; I guess I’ll be the King of The fucking Horde.”

Catra smacks him again in the knee, harder this time. He grunts and sticks up a middle finger but doesn't comment on the smile ticking Catra’s lips up. 

“Just because there’s no one here to see it doesn't mean you can be an asshole, Taggart” Catra says, turning and getting a good look at the monstrosity before her. Taggart laughs, the clanging beneath the panel hesitating for a moment. 

“We both know as soon as the prying eyes fuck off; neither of us are the good little Horde Soilders Hordak thinks he beat us into.”

Catra nods silently, but her mind is really on Cubsy. When prying eyes fuck off where she really wants to be is curled up with the little monster.  She wonders what she’s doing now. It's around the time they’d be on their morning walk. 

Catra only knows because she’s been checking the time every ten minutes since the clock hit 4 and wondering where she would be here if Cubsy was still here. If Adora was here even. 

If Catra wasn't here right now. Wasn't a pawn for Hordak and it was her and Cubsy and Adora. What would she be doing?

She wouldn't be here, building the thing that will bring her own destruction. 

“This is a completely stupid idea” Catra says finally, she picks up Hordaks manic schematics, poorly done drawings and chicken scratched notes. Catra had to basically throw the whole thing out and start from scratch. 

“For some idiotic reason Hordak thinks the only thing we were missing when the portal opened the first time was the power of the planet or some shit. We weren’t directly connected to the runestone which couldn't connect to the rest of the Runestones which in turn couldn’t connect with Etheria. This is a bunch of mad man’s rambling.”

“Let's hope it doesn't work then. I'd rather not meet this ‘exalted brother’ of his. Sounds cultish.”

Catra laughs, picking up her bottle of rum and taking a large swig. “Are you shitting me? We’ve been in a cult this entire damn time. We just don't believe in God, we believe in being brought into the light!” She raises her arms to the ceiling and spins her voice lowering to a timber of awe. 

“You're a lot more cheery when you're drunk instead of hung over. Though it's impressive that you can engineer “that mad man’s ramblings” when you're so inebriated.”

“It's called skill.” Catra hefts up the box of first ones tech and drops in next to the runestone. She would be thanking Entrapta for labeling them all. Well she would be If she wasn’t now using them to destroy the world. She sits next to it, her bad leg out in front of her and stretching as much as it can when it's been cramped into a squatting position for so long. 

Footsteps echo through the sanctum. Though they don't have the drunk stumbling quality of Hordaks. 

Lonnie drops their rations off on the top of the control panel, eyeing the bottle of rum but choosing not to comment. “breakfast time,”

“Not hungry” Catra mumbles, too busy using more explosive Jelly to stick shit together like her life depends on it. She’s hoping if, and when, this plan fails it really will blow them all up. This time it might actually leave her dead.. 

“Catra, when was the last time you had something to eat?’ Lonnie asks, digging around in her box and handing Taggart a wrapped block of C4. the old man promptly tosses it in Catra’s direction. The feline isn’t looking and the block nearly takes her out. It’s luck that keeps it from hitting her head. The whistle of it through the air just barely pierced Catra’s deafened ears. 

“Nunya” Catra replies, she knocks her shades over her eyes with the back of her wrist and ignores when Lonnie holds the ration bar out to her. 

“What does that even mean?-”

“Nunya business” Catra starts to giggle. Less because of her joke and more because her head has started to thump with her pulse in a way that is extremely painful. Her laugh turns into a cough. She leans her forehead pitifully against the cold runestone, unbothered when red electricity filters into her hair. 

“She’s drunk as hell” Taggart says, groaning as he stands. Picks up his own ration and tears it open with his teeth. Lonnie turns to him. 

“I can tell, she doesn't even feel herself being electrocuted.”

“That might just be nerve damage. Leave her alone, you can't really have a full conversation with her when she’s like that”

“I have full conversations all the damn time” is Catra’s response. She turns and glares at Taggart as she simultaneously stick a half gallon of blasting jelly onto the runestone, 

“Do you trust her to be handling those explosives?” Lonnie asks, leaning against the control panel. Taggart shuts the doors to the wiring and sits in Hordak’s chair. He lights up the control board. Hordak’s massive screen flickering to life. 

“More than I trust anyone else. We’re only in real danger if she gets her hands on a detonator. Or falls into that lever.” he points to the thing that destroyed the world last time. 

“I'm sure reassured” Lonnie says sarcastically. Taggart shrugs, he expertly taps into a line of code. Or something else. Lonnie doesn’t know for sure. She wasn't all that smart on the engineering stuff like Catra was.

She was built in the simulation room like Adora. Using brute strength and limited smarts. Though Lonnie never happened upon a magic sword and never fell in love with an emotionally repressed asshole.  

“As traitors, how do you feel about a coup?” Taggart asks, he’s blunt with it and doesn't bother speaking quietly. It nearly makes Lonnie jump as “traitors” echoes through the sanctum. 

“Alright thats fucked up” Lonnie gestures to Hordak’s sanctum. “We are quite literally in the lair of the wolf right now”

“Yeah the only place in the entire Fright Zone not bugged” Catra says, she leans back on her sticky hands. “If you were going to plan an overthrow anywhere it would be here. And Hordak is off god knows where, probably eating babies or some shit”

“Hordak is currently taking a very long train ride back across Etheria to reach Brightmoon.” Taggart says though he's not completely focused on either girl, his eyes instead tracing the meaningless and endless lines of code as if they mean something to him. 

“A city he will be surprised to find empty and not The Rebellion hold he thinks it is. Mother fucker was better off kicking around in the crimson waste” Catra mutters. 

“I think he’s also going to stick the last piece of that sword on the Brightmoon Runestone actually. So that'll prove pretty easy for him.” Taggart says, gesturing to the mozaic-like sword plastered onto the side of the black garnet. The tip is missing. 

“Complete idiot” Catra says, she stands with a grunt and leans heavily on her cane. “No idea why he didn't trust us with that part of the plan” she smiles as Taggart chuckles, sitting on a stack of boxes next to him at the control panel. 

She rubs her chest lightly as acid build up her throat. It might be the alcohol, Or the lack of food, it might even be the anxiety burning in her gut. 

Lonnie doesn't seem to get the joke. Or maybe she just doesn't care. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Speaking of treason, Catra. I have that… package you wanted”

“What?” Catra asks, thumping on her chest to get the heartburn to go away. 

“That package. The multiple packages. Don’t tell me you fucking forgot and sent me on a wild fucking good chase”

“Packages” Catra murmurs, racking her brain. She really had not ordered anything recently. 

Lonnie slaps her face. Lightly of course but it still stings. An explosion of colors bursts beneath her eyes and she’s suddenly sober. 

“Oh! The packages!” she snaps her fingers and looks at Lonnie in a new light. 

Lonnie looks like she’s about to have an aneurysm. “Yes, the packages.” she grinds out. “ Unfortunately. I could only get the ones with GPS locations in the Horde database,”

“What does that-”

“That means there could be a hundred more all around Etheria. We have no idea where they are. They could be anywhere.”

“Great!” Catra says, she picks up her rum and takes another swig. 

“But!” Lonnie snatches the bottle of rum from her. It spills down her chin and onto her shirt. “We now have a hundred more waiting to be set up. Let them explode wherever you want them too”

“Oh great we can blow ourselves up” Catra gestures to the black garnet. 

“So you rounded up as many bombs as you could?”  Taggart asks,

“No” Catra says just as Lonnie says:

“Pretty much” 

Catra stares at her in betrayal but Lonnie just shrugs. 

“It's not like we were being all that secretive Catra. Come on”

“It's the principle of it! he isn’t letting me in on his thing so I wasn't going to let him in on our thing”

“We have a better chance of coming up with a cohesive plan if Taggart is making it” Lonnie deadpanned, “you really haven't been much help lately.”

“Oh fuck you Lonnie” Catra leans back against the control panel and folds her arms. 

Lonnie shrugs her shoulders. Catra can’t blame her, she really hasn’t been any help. 

“I was thinking of giving Hordak a taste of his own medicine. All the places he threatened us with before are Horde territory now. Them being blown up would only really affect him,” Taggart’s tapping on Hordak’s computer comes to a stop as he pulls up a map. 

“I would think he planted them here,”  he circles the Crimson waste, Dryle, and Mount Candilla punctuation each poorly drawn circle with a “here”

“The only place we would really have to worry about is Mount Candilla.”

“They're probably long gone from there,” Catra says, pointing to Mount Candilla. “I mean I would be hiding like a lizard in the sun if I managed to escape from hell on earth. No doubt Adora and Glimmer immediately ran back there when they escaped. If their smart, and i'll give them the benefit of the doubt, they moved base camp as soon as the got there”

‘Let’s not give them the benefit of the doubt” Lonnie winces, pulling out her own Comms pad and loading up a Guard debrief. “Blonde and pink haired princesses spotted in common space”

“What the fuck?” Catra asks, swiping Lonnie comms pad and scrolling through her notifications. “How come you're getting all of my assignments? This is my shit!” Catra points to several ‘broken skiff’ notifications Lonnie has received and ignored. 

“Because you've been reassigned to blow us up,” Lonnie hisses, taking her comms pad back and pulling her debrief back up on her screen. 

“Jesus- I’m apparently useless!”

“The important part” Lonnie says pointedly, “is that it's obvious that they're still leaching off of Mount Candilla. Still there this morning, and if these reports are anything to go by; still packing up to leave”

“They couldn’t stay hidden for a day?!” Catra asks, her face dropping into horror at the multiple pictures of Adora and Glimmer running through the village. 

“Didn’t even give themselves a chance to cool off” Taggart mutters, crossing his arms and sitting back to look at his map. Catra pinches the bridge of her nose and breaths for a second. 

“Ok well, Glimmer broke into my study and I was hoping she was able to smuggle some of my files but when I looked-”

“When you ripped your room to shreds” Lonnie scoffs, interrupting

“When I looked” Catra says frustration leaking into her tone “nothing was even missing”

“But a baby,” Taggart mumbles, digging his metaphorical fingers into Catra’s open wounds. The feline snarls at him, this time it isn't a joke. Taggart barely flinches. 

“I watched the baby get stolen so yes, I was expecting her to be gone” she growls. 

“No wonder these assholes are losing” Lonnie mutters, tapping away on her comms pad. “Luckily for us, when they were spotted another guard had a conflicting report. Said the two girls could have been men and their hair colors were brown, so the report never made it to Hordak”

“That we know of,” Taggart says, sitting back, “his train will be cutting right through there on his way back from BrightMoon. There’s a chance his personal guard will tell him about any concerning sightings just in case.”

“And there’s photographic evidence so there’s that” Lonnie mumbles, watching Catra nibble at her steel nails, “we talk a lot of shit about the rebellion but I'm not sure how we’ve stayed up and running for so long either”

“Spite” Catra mumbles, and it makes sense. Catra has been running places and the feline has been living off that very thing for her whole life. 

“Well there’s nothing we can do about it” Catra shrugs and gestures to Lonnie. “Let’s work with what we have, a hundred bombs? That could do some damage here.”

“Some” Lonnie nearly laughs, “that would collapse the entire Frigthzone if placed right.”

“Then we’ll place them right, do you have a way to detonate them?” Catra asks. 

“We can set them on a timer if you remember how” Lonnie nudges Catra’s foot with her own and Catra scoffs. 

“Please, I got promoted. I didn't forget where I came from. Setting bombs is in my blood”

“They taught you how to set bombs in cadet training?” Taggart asks, turning from his screen with confusion etched into his face. 

Catra looks at him weird, and when she turns she realizes Lonnie is too. 

“He wasn’t a cadet” Lonnie says, as if she just realized this. Catra turns to her with a raised eyebrow, 

“Did you think he was? He was one of the founding fathers of The Horde”

“I guess The Horde just feels eternal to me. Like it's always been. It’s hard to imagine it was built less than half a century ago.”

“Yeah, “ Catra murmurs, nearly running a hand over her face but pulling away at the last minute when she realizes her hand is covered in blasting jelly. She pulls the rag from Taggart belt and starts to wipe at her hands, 

“Well. if we’re going to blow the place up” Catra hesitates and glances back at what she has done to the Black Garnet, “If we’re going to blow this place up sooner than expected We’re  going to need to get everyone left in the fightzone out.”

“Unless they're an asshole. Then feel free to leave them be” Lonnie mutters, tucking her comms pad back into her belt. 

Taggart rolls his eyes and turns his chair fully to Lonnie. “When this place blows I don't want there to be any casualties”

Catra scoffs at that, rubbing harshly at her furry hands to get the jelly out. 

“It won't be hard’ Lonnie says, “most of the soldiers have abandoned ship anyway. As soon as they get passed the guard towers they jump the train”

Catra grunts and nods. Unsurprised. 

“Lets take out the black garnet while we’re at it” Catra says, turning towards the hunk of rock with a smile. 

“That really won't be necessary,” Taggart mutters. His hand rubbing at his mouth where he’s leaned back in his chair, “when the building collapses it’ll probably shatter beneath the rubble.”

“I want to make sure it goes out with the building.” Catra mutters, rubbing at her arms, at the scars that lay under her fur. A hand almost goes to touch the mark that cuts through her face. Clefts her lip. 

If the Horde is going down so is the Black Garnet. Catra will make sure of it. 

--------)0(--------

17 years old. 

“Oh shut up” Adora giggles, allowing herself to be pulled back into Catra’s arms. Catra herself giggles and rubs her face along Adora’s. 

“I'm being completely honest” Catra whispers into her ear, dragging Adora’s two left feet along as she spins them to the beat. “She tripped on the puddle and landed on a bent beg . I thought she had broken it. Her head hit the floor and it sounded like an empty bucket”

Adora rolls her eyes but she really isn't all that bothered. She’s here, in Catra’s arms and laughing so hard her stomach hurts in such an enjoyable way. 

The Shower’s drip rhythmically beneath Adora’s makeshift radio. Catra sways happily to the beat, pulling Adora along with her. Somehow the feline knows how to dance. Something Adora knows for sure was never taught. 

It must be something Catra remembers from before. Even if she doesn’t remember remembering it. Like Adora does sometimes. When she knows something about Catra but doesn't remember what she knew it from. 

As if the memory was still there but somehow gone. Hidden. 

“I can tell you're choosing not to believe me” Catra mutters, her hand sliding from Adora’s waist and up her back, pulling Adora even closer. Adora smiles and touches her temple to Catra’s. Her arm wrapping around the feline's shoulders. 

“Choosing” Adora scoffs, the smile on her face widening. “I'll assure you good madam, I really don't have to actively choose not to believe you. “

“I swear Adora! When she stood back up she honest to the Gods stumbled,” Catra doesn't complain when Adora steps on her toes. She just winces and digs her nails lightly into Adora’s hand. A warning. It’s a good thing Adora had taken off her own boots. Just for this, “I have never seen her stumble before” 

Adora scoffs and Catra halts them in their dance to look at Adora in the face. Adora raises an eyebrow playfully. “She fell just like that  time she accidentally ate a fly?”

Catra growls and digs her fingers playfully into Adora’s sides. “That really happened! I saw it!” Adora laughs, trying to pull herself away from Catra assault but Catra is far stronger than she looks. It must be her feline genes. Adora has never known someone who could lift as much as Catra. 

She has never known anyone who could hold her own as well as Catra can against Adora. Catra is always breaking expectations, Adora shouldn’t be surprised. 

Catra’s hand shifts and she hits the bandage wrapped around Adora’s ribs. Pain lances through her. Zinging up her spine and across her nerves. Adora gasps and bends forward, her chin digging into Catra’s collar bones. 

“Adora?” Catra asks, her hands falling away from her ribs and instead wrapping around her body. “Adora, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing” Adora, gasps, her arms tightening around Catra’s shoulders when the feline tries to pull away, “nothing, come here”

Catra concedes and rubs face back into Adora’s neck. Her body going flush into the front of Adora and her tail wrapping around their joined waists, securely. 

The silence barely has time to settle between Adora’s pained gasps and Catra barely audible purring. It’s reassuring and feels nice against Adora’s chest. 

“I know it's not nothing “ Catra murmurs, “I know it’s not. “You can't hide everything, your not invincible,”

“I would like to be” 

Catra chuckles quietly in Adora’s neck. “I know”

Silence

Adora straightens once more and tries her best to get them swaying to the beat of the music again. The little speaker in Adora’s locker thumping away. She does terribly and she knows it, if Catra’s chuckling is anything to go by, 

“Don’t laugh, you know I don't understand what ‘the beat’ is-”

“I was not laughing”

‘I could feel it asshole i know you were”

“I think it’s cute” Catra admits, Adora’s glad Catra can't see her face, cuz it’s steadily turning bright red. “How can someone, as amazing at everything as you, never learn to dance? Not even never learn, I taught you! I will never know how you're so bad.”

Adora hides her smile into Catra’s hair. Letting the silence be her answer to that insult. Catra lets her. Her hands ghosting over Adora’s bandages in concern before sliding back to her body and wrapping around her waist. 

“I was in med this morning,” Adora admits to herself. Hers isn't as light hearted as Catra’s secret. Catra freezes and it forces them to stop swaying again. 

“Oh” she says, her hand coming back up to lightly ghost against Adora’s bandages, 

“Not because I got injured but, you know, monthly check ups”

“Yeah, check ups” Catra mutters, pulling Adora closer and wrapping her up in her wiry arms. 

“Not “check ups” just. Like the yearly one. That everyone gets” Catra ears lower at that and Adora has to fight the urge to run her fingers over them. Better yet, run her hands through Catra’s hair. 

“I know you get nervous when you know they are happening.” Adora whispers, hugging Catra tighter. “So I thought it better not to tell you”

“I always want to know when you're hurt,” Catra says immediately. Her face turning into the side of Adora's, her lips brushing against her cheek. 

“Well, I told you didnt I?” she starts them swaying again and this time Catra directs them into a semblance of on beat. 

They sway together for just a bit longer before Catra mumbles something Adora barely doesn't hear. 

“Thank you, for telling me”

“Of course,” Adora whispers into Catra’s hair. Adora turns her head to Catra’s just as the feline turns hers and then Adora is staring into Catra’s heterochromic eyes. They seem to sparkle even under the harsh lighting of the locker bay. 

That’s when Adora realizes Catra isn't staring into Adora's eyes but directed lower. Directly below them really. At Adora’s lips. Then Adora can't help but stare at Catra’s. Soft and plump, her tongue darting out to wet them. 

Adora can’t stop herself from imagining what it would be like to kiss them. The fantasy lasting for less than a second-

“If you guys are making out can you please do it in the supply closet like the rest of us?” Lonnie’s voice breaks through over the music. Catra and Adora break apart immediately. Adora coughing into her hand, her own spit stuck in her throat. 

Catra runs a hand through her hair and leans against the lockers. “We both know you don’t Lonnie. you, Kyle and Rogelio would never fit”

“We make it work” Lonnie winks, holding open the door to the locker bay and winking. Catra visibly fights the urge to vomit. “We have simulation” Lonnie says, nearly ducking out of the med bay before glancing back in, “not you Catra, your needed in med bay”

Catra freezes, even as Lonnie closes the door. Adora takes a step closer but Catra ignores her, opening her locker and pulling out her ID card and a jacket. 

“I'll see you tonight, yeah?” Catra asks, watching as Adora switches the radio off in her locker. Adora nods, her fingers playing with the metal handle. She doesn't notice Catra stepping into her space but she does notice the warmth of her. The tickle of her fur against Adora’s arm and face. Her smell of regulation soap, iron, and something that is distinctly Catra. 

She notices the kiss pressed to the corner of her mouth. Soft and delicately and something that nearly brings tears to Adora’s eyes. 

She continues to notice it, even as Catra moves away. As she leaves the room. Even as Adora’s own hand comes up to press against her lips. 

Adora could not let that stand. Catra had done something that portrayed… loyalty. That’s what Adora wants to call it. Catra had shown her loyalty to Adora. Not to the Horde, not to Weaver. To Adora. 

Adora needed to get back at her. She totally needed a mouse. 

--------)0(--------

Adora rocks the baby back and forth in her arms. Cubsy blinks slowly up at her, her claws dug into Adora’s shirt and holding on tight. She hasn’t let go since this morning, as if Adora would put her down and leave her. 

Glimmer grinds her teeth text to Adora. Her hands running through her short hair in frustration. Her boots are covered in mud and sinking into wet dirt below. 

“I should have teleported us.” she mutters again. she had said it as they trekked through the woods. As they stumbled into the camp, she said it again to Queen Angella when they found her. And again when they were kicked out of the meeting for fighting. 

“Cubsy is barely one. She can’t handle being teleported.” Adora says, again. She had said a version of it in response to Glimmer every time. The princess nearly growls at that, turning towards Adora with barely concealed rage. 

“But she can handle being raised by a dictator?”

“Catra had little to no power. Come on. The only thing Hordak trusted her to do was sit in her room and moan about being appreciated more.” Adora paces in a circle, her arms holding Cubsy snugly to her chest. 

Glimmer throws up her hands. “She planned the destruction of the Rebellion!”

“Yeah, but she did it in a nice way.” Adora shrugs.

Glimmer squints. “What does that even mean?”

“It means she tried not to kill anyone! I don’t know if you noticed, but none of your kingdoms are completely destroyed! None of the runestones are damaged, and honestly, some places are doing better than before.”

“Better than when they were struggling to support a rebellion that was about to be demolished.”

Adora sighs, shifting Cubsy to her other arm. “Yeah, well, the winners write the history.” 

Glimmer grits her teeth. “Damn it,” she mutters before kicking at the tent beside her. The fabric shudders, but the argument beyond the flaps continues, voices rising and cutting into one another. “Your compromised Adora”

Adora freezes, the muscles in her body twitching. “Shut up” she growls, her back turned on the princess. The words echo through her head but not in Glimmer's voice. In shadow Weavers. 

‘You’re compromised, Adora’ she had said it like it was plain and simple. Like it wasnt something cadets and Force Captains would refuse to say. 

To be compromised is treason. To be loyal to anything other than The Horde is grounds for death. To accuse someone of such an act is an attack, not only on them but anyone involved. 

“Take it back” Adora growls, its pentunant. Childish. Adora feels like she’s back in cadet training but she is deadly serious. 

“You're letting Catra control your actions, she is the enemy! You've been compromised! You may have been this entire war” Glimmer has thrown her hands to the air when Adora turns on her. Walking into her space, her face inches from Glimmers. 

As if glimmer’s outrage is contagious the voices in the tent beyond rise like the tide. 

“Take it back Glimmer or so help me gods-”

A single voice silences them all.. 

“We are compromised!” Queen Angella finally decrees. It has Adora’s head whipping around “I don’t care if we have finally set up camp or if you’re comfortable here. It is no longer a secret that the Rebellion is hiding below Mount Candella. We have to move.”

Glimmer curses louder, dragging her hands down her face. “We should have teleported.”

“And risk scrambling Cubsy’s brain?” Adora retorts, her grip tightening protectively around the baby. She says it again as if she hadn't said it over and over. 

Glimmer throws up her hands. “Well, if we had She-Ra, you could have unscrambled them!”

Silence. Adora’s breath hitches, her grip on Cubsy firm as she turns on her heel and stalks off into the thicket of trees.

Glimmer stumbles after her. “Adora, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever.” Adora walks faster, her shoulders tense. Cubsy starts to cry, their pacifier falling from their mouth and into Adora’s hands. Adpra tries to shush them but Cubsy is adamant at letting her sadness known. 

Glimmer jogs to keep up. “I’m just saying, everyone would be in higher spirits if—”

Adora stops abruptly. “We were in the same shit situation with She-ra!” she says, rocking her baby and snarling in Glimmer’s face. “She was no help! I was no help! I am useless!”

“Your not useless-”

“I don’t even understand what happened that day. The day She-ra was snuffed out and I don't even remember it”

Glimmer blinks. “What?”

“I know that the sword shattered because of some weapon we had created, but I— I can’t remember.” Adora presses her fingers against her temple, gripping Cubsy tighter as if holding her closer might steady the chaos in her head and calm the baby’s frayed nerves. “Everyone blames me, and I don’t even know why!”

Glimmer hesitates, her gaze dropping to the forest floor. Her fingers twist in the hem of her cloak. Adora starts to pace. Her feet sinking into squelching mud. 

“Look, Adora, we decided as a group—you, Bow, and I.”

Adora narrows her eyes. “Decided what?” She stumbles slightly over a tree root but doesn’t take her eyes off Glimmer.

“I— Well, I went to the Crystal Castle. Months ago. We were looking for a way to get a leg up against the Horde.”

A dull ache presses against Adora’s skull. “I don’t remember this,” she whispers.

Glimmer shifts uncomfortably. “And Light Hope told us about something the sword could do. Unimaginable power—if we just connected it back to Etheria’s magic. She said… she said that if Scorpia disconnected herself from the Black Garnet, it could merge again with Etheria’s energy or something.”

Adora sways slightly, gripping a nearby tree for balance. “Oh my gods,” she mumbles. Her migraine sharpens into a blinding pain. “You did it without us.”

Glimmer’s voice shakes. “But it worked, didn’t it?” She steps forward, desperate. “Scorpia broke her connection and It worked for a little while, but then— you were about to take them out.”

Adora clenches her jaw. “And I couldn’t do it,” she mutters. “You made me choose between people’s lives and the sword. My power.”

“I didn’t know that would happen,” Glimmer says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just thought we would be connected to the magic of Etheria again.”

Adora exhales harshly, staring at the ground. “But now there is no She-Ra, and you’re not stronger than you usually are.”

Well— after you broke the sword, the connection was severed and—” Glimmer falters.

Adora straightens. “Bow knows about this? He knows what really happened?”

Glimmer swallows hard. “Well, no—”

Adora turns on her heel, straight for the camp. 

“Adora” Adora ignores her, walking the short distance from the edge of the woods and back towards the camp where soldiers are already in the process of tearing down tents and packing things into carts. “Adora wait”

“Bow!” Adora stalks towards the man leaving the command tent. His collection of arrows slung across his back. His head whips up at his name and he straightens up at the tone of Adora’s voice. 

“Get over here” Adora growls, her frustration rising when Bow looks side to side and then points to him, as if Adora could be talking to anyone else. Bow must sense the anger rising in Adora because he hurries over, stopping before Adora’s tent and nearly slipping in the mud. 

“Did you know?” she asks, she knows she’s standing to close, he can probably smell her breath. 

“Know what?” he asks, his eyes flitting from Adora to Glimmer. There’s already dread settling on his face when he sees glimmer;s guilty expression. “No”

“That Glimmer broke Scorpia’s connection to the black garnet” Adora growls, Cubsy cries that had turned to whimpers start to sniffle up again. Tears track down her face and Adora starts to lightly wipe them away. 

“That she set off the magic in Etheria and tried to make me kill a thousand Horde soldiers in a single blow. Her voice is low, gravely. She’s done yelling. If not for Cubsy’s sake for her own. 

Bow hasn't looked away from Glimmer. His face had dropped and been replaced with something akin to Horror. 

“We agree, Glimmer” he says, his voice nearly as quiet as Adora’s “we agreed that setting off the heart was too dangerous. That killing thousands of people wasn't the answer.”

“Tjen what was!” Glimmer shouts, her hands out infront of her as if she could give this responsibility to someone else. “What else were we supposed to do?! Let the Horde win? Let that egomaniac take over Etheria”

“Well it didn't work anyway” Adora growls, 

“Because your refused to do what needed to be done” Glimmer retaliates and Adora flinches, curling around the cub in her arms. 

“Glimmer” Bow’s voice is harder then Adora has ever heard it “you wanted Adora to solve the problem for you. Your weren't willing to kill thousands of people but you thought she would be? The Horde hasn't even killed thousands of enemy troops.”

“I couldn't wield the sword! I couldn't make the choice if I tried! You guys don’t understand the gravity of our situation. We are going to lose!”

“We know that Glimmer.” Bow growls, “We know that! Look around you! Everyone knows that” Adora glances at the turning faces, the watching eyes. Bow pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I cant talk to you” he says, looking up and turning on his heel. Glimmer's hands drop and she immediately stumbles after him in the mud. They leave Adora behind, Glimmer shouting after Bow and Bow staying silent.

--------)0(--------

Catra shoves the wires underneath the lever. It’s a shoddy job, but Hordak would never notice. He never paid attention to details—just results. She wipes her hands down the front of her stained shirt, streaking it with blasting jelly and something dark that she hopes is just oil. Though it smells slightly metallic. She rubs her fingers against the fabric, trying not to shiver at the stubborn sensation of blasting jelly beneath her nails. It clings, sticky and sickly sweet, and she swears she’ll smell it for days.

She uses the lever to heave herself onto her feet. She nearly can’t do it. No matter how strong she is, her body is still wounded. Still hurt. She does make it. Like she always does. One hand steadying herself with her cane and the other firmly gripped to the lever. 

She’s been weaker. She doesn’t fully understand why. She read something like this in a book once. It was about dogs. Old, injured dogs need something to look forward to or their life is too mundane. Like a weekly trip or a daily trip.

When dogs are old and injured they need things to look forward to or they get worse and die. 

The only thing Catra has to look forward to is her own timely demise. Will it still work if her own death is Catra’s exciting thing. 

She almost reaches for cubsy when she’s finally standing. Not almost, she does. Her hand goes to her breast bone. As if Cubsy is wrapped to her chest with a scarf and merely napping against her. She’s surprised when her hand moves past the imaginary baby on her chest but the realization burns her.  

Like a shot of adrenaline, sorrow shoots through her. It starts near her heart and seeps quickly through her body. 

Catra ignores it. Her hand falls and she wanders over to the tinkering being done below the command board. 

With a heavy sigh, she slumps down onto the floor next to Taggart, peeling off her gloves and slapping them into her lap with exaggerated exhaustion. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were ignoring me.”

“I am,” Taggart replies without looking up. He slides his glasses from his forehead down onto his nose, still hunched over his notes. “Quite adamantly, actually. It seems you are physically incapable of being ignored.”

“Only when I’m hungover.” Catra groans, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cold, metal wall. “Are you going to tell me what you’re cooking up over there, or do I have to assume you’ve finally started writing your tragically short will?

Taggart exhales through his nose, still focused on his scribbles. “I thought you didn’t want any part of my slanderous and traitorous actions.” He says this smoothly, tapping a finger against his notepad with mock propriety.

“Oh, come on. Get over yourself.” Catra shifts, maneuvering her leg into a better position. The brace on her knee lets out an awful, metallic squeal, and she winces. “Ugh. I need a drink. Or two”

Taggart finally looks up, unplugging a device from the control panel and setting it aside. “You’ve been drinking non stop for days. I think your body could use the detox, “

Catra remains silent at that and Taggart doesn't seem to have anything to say to follow up. The quiet permeates the space and Taggart even stops tinkering with Hordak’s stuff. 

Look..” Taggart hesitates, his fingers fidgeting before him. “ Catra, I know you loved that little kid. A lot.” His voice softens, fingers drumming idly against the desk. 

“I said I needed a drink, how did you get that from ‘I need a drink’”

“But she’s with a bunch of princesses now.” Taggart continues as if he hadn’t heard her “You have to admit, that’s a hell of a lot better than here.”

“Yeah, right,” Catra scoffs, pressing a cool hand against her eyes. “Those bumbling idiots have no idea what they’re doing.”

"But they aren’t… well… evil,”  Taggart says carefully, his gaze flicking to her reaction.

Catra squints at him. "Are you calling me evil? Fucking asshole."

“Well,” he starts, considering, “you’ve had your moments. But I know you. If you had a real choice, you wouldn’t be here under Hordak’s thumb. You’d probably be off homesteading and kidnapping babies. ”

"Go back to calling me evil," Catra feigns vomiting, making a gagging noise.

Taggart smirks but continues. "What I mean is, this is no place for a kid. It’s why you moved them all out in the first place. I’m not saying you would be a terrible mother. You would be an amazing mom, you were one. As much as you could be in your position. But the Horde is no place for a baby"

Catra clenches her jaw, fingers curling into the fabric of her pants. She holds back a nasty snarl and turns away from the old man instead. She knows he’s right. She knows he feels for her, that he understands because he was also ripped away from his kids for Hordak’s benefit. 

Her fingers dig into her leg harder. 

“But," Catra looks up as Taggart nudges her with his knee, grinning, "once we get out of here, you’ll get a second chance at being the best mom ever."

Catra raises an eyebrow at his feral grin. "Oh yeah? And how do you expect we’ll get out of here when Hordak has about a hundred bombs all around Etheria? Maybe more"

Taggart shrugs, but it’s a little too smug for Catra’s liking. Her ears twitch.

"What?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, I’m no battle strategist or the smartest person ever, but…"

"Spit it out."

"I don’t think we’ll have any problems with bombs anytime soon." Catra turns towards him, confused. Taggart looks away. The silence filters through the room and Catra’s jaw loosens.

Catra's ears perk up, her tail flicking. "Oh my god. You don’t"

“Taggart shrugs smugly and Catra immediately knows. The old man doesn’t have a poker face and has only gotten worse at hiding his gloating with age. She almost stands from the floor. She would if she could without struggling. 

"Uh… yes?"

Catra grins, leaning closer. "Taggart, we are about to become very close friends."

"We are close friends." Taggart frowns, reaching over and pinching Catra in the side. “We’re basically family” they are family is what he means. Catra knows that. Taggart is afraid to say it. 

Catra knows that too. 

"That’s what I wanted you to think." Catra winks, trying to dissipate the tension. It works better at putting the old man at ease than it does anything else. Taggart’s shoulders loosen. He rolls his eyes playfully.

 "How many of those painkillers are you on?"

"The recommended amount." Catra admits, reaching into her pocket and touching the pouch of painkillers. Painkiller she hadn't taken in weeks. Painkillers she picked back up the day cubsy disappeared from her life. 

"The recommended amount is enough to tranquilize a bull."

"Exactly." Catra flashes him a toothy smile. She knows Taggart can see right through her but she’s hoping he ignores it. 

"Alright, focus." Taggart watches her eyes, gauging her state of mind. "As much as you can at the moment, at least."

Catra nods seriously, sitting at attention at the authority in Taggarts voice. 

"We’re going to set up those bombs Lonnie was able to collect all over the Fright Zone."

"Alright."

"Then we’re going to blow them up."

Catra claps her hands together and laughs. "That’s fucking genius."

Taggart rolls his eyes. "The important part is that we do it when Hordak and all his little cronies—who would jump at an opportunity for a power vacuum—are in the Fright Zone."

"Well, that will happen very soon." 

"Exactly, so we don’t have much time."

Catra stands, swiping her cane up. "Let’s get to it then." She hesitates in the doorway, her guards shifting to follow her. They weren’t being very secretive, but if these guards were loyal to Hordak, they would have acted by now.

"You think blowing up the Black Garnet will have a bad reaction when connected to the other runestones?"

"Oh." Taggart leans back against the control panel, thoughtful. "I guess we’ll see."

“There is no way the portal will set off. I made sure of it.” Catra brushes away Taggarts concern. “But I don't know how losing a magic stone will affect all the other magic stones. Will it kill a princess?”

“The princesses have lost one before. They’ve lost many before, especially when the Horde first got Started.” he scratches at his beard. “But they were mostly lost when the princesses abandoned their kingdom. The black garnet is still running because of the energy Hordak takes from it.”

--------)0(-------- 

The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and smoldering embers, the remnants of the rebellion’s hasty retreat. The ground is churned mud, pockmarked with abandoned footprints and discarded scraps of cloth, a battlefield in all but name. The camp is dying, collapsing in on itself, and yet, despite the ruin, something much worse stands in the clearing.

Adora is still standing before her tent, her arms full of baby. Her eyes trained in the direction Bow and Glimmer stalked off too. She might be shaking. She can’t really tell. She’s focused her attention on petting Cubsy's back and soothing the child and she squirms in Adora’s arms. 

“Adora.”

The voice slithers through the air like a slow-moving knife, sharp but deliberate. That lilt—low, smooth, poisonous. The sound of it sends an involuntary shudder down Adora’s spine, the prickle of ice spreading over her skin before she even turns around.

Cubsy squirms against her chest, small claws pressing through the fabric of Adora’s shirt, a tiny whimper vibrating behind the pacifier in her mouth. She must feel it too. The danger. The wrongness. Maybe she just notices the way Adora’s muscle’s tense. 

All the same, Adora brings her closer. Her fingers running through the downy baby fur and she presses a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead. 

“I am so glad to see you, Adora,” the voice continues, oozing false warmth. “I was hoping for your safe return. You can never know with these idiots running the Horde. They might have killed you accidently.”

Cubsy’s lips pull back in a snarl around her pacifier. Her claws dig into Adora’s shoulders as she looks at the woman that stalls towards them. 

Shadow Weaver steps forward, gliding across the uneven ground as if she is untouched by the mud, the smell. Her silhouette is impossibly straight, her masked face expressionless and yet unbearably leering. The movement of her robes is slow, deliberate, and she raises her arms—an imitation of an embrace, but Adora knows better.

“Get away from me,” Adora grounds out, taking a sharp step back, closer to the tattered remains of her tent. The rebellion had packed up in a hurry, and now there was little left but debris.

Shadow Weaver halts, head tilting. “Get away? How could you possibly ask me that? Can’t a mother be worried about her ward?”

Adora bares her teeth. “You were never a mother to me. You were a monster. You are a monster”

Shadow Weaver moves then, so suddenly that Adora flinches, her entire body bracing for an attack, curling around Cubsy and turning the baby away from the witch. 

“I raised you, Adora,” Shadow Weaver breathes, stepping closer. “Don’t you forget that.”

“I never will,” Adora snarls. “No matter how hard I try.”

Shadow Weaver hums, head tilting slightly. “We both know you can’t erase memories,” she says. “We’ve tested that extensively.”

“You mean you experimented on me,” Adora growls, shifting her stance. Her grip on Cubsy tightens as the baby lets out a distressed little sound.

Shadow Weaver lets out a long sigh. “Yet no matter how I tried, you could never forget that disgusting mongrel.”

Adora stiffens.

“Why are you out of your shackles” Adora asks, stumbling back “where are your guards

Shadow Weaver gestures with a clawed hand toward Cubsy, her movement abrupt, accusatory. “And now look at you, clutching another one to your chest.” Taking a step even closer. “Where did you even find that animal?”

Adora yanks her staff from her belt and extends it, the motion fluid, instinctive. The weapon locks into place just inches from Shadow Weaver’s mask. A warning. A challenge.

Shadow Weaver doesn’t even flinch. She merely stares. Her eyes behind her mask blinking slowly. 

Adora must look ridiculous—standing there with a baby strapped to her chest, a staff shaking slightly in her grip. There was a time when she wouldn’t have hesitated, a time when she would’ve stood strong, unwavering, a warrior. But that time is gone.

She was much more intimidating when she had a sword. When she could transform into the embodiment of strength and dependability. 

“Get away from me,” Adora hisses, teeth clenched. “Before I call the guards and have you thrown off a cliff. You should be rotting in a dungeon or Burned at the fucking stake.”

Shadow Weaver chuckles, the sound dark, dry, humorless. “Oh, Adora,” she croons. “We both know the rebellion is far too incompetent to hold me.”

Her voice dips, shadowed with something dangerous. “I should have known you were too incompetent to rid yourself of those animals. I should have killed that girl when I had the chance.”

Adora’s blood turns to ice.

“But instead,” Shadow Weaver continues, “I let her fester. I let her feed off your accomplishments.”

“Catra was a child!” Adora shouts, the grip on her staff white-knuckled. “So was I!”

Shadow Weaver leans in ever so slightly. “You couldn’t even get rid of her when you left.” Her voice is so quiet, so insidious, that Adora feels it more than she hears it. “And now you’ve found yourself another pet.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adora spits, nearly shaking. “She’s a baby, not a pet. I’d rather burn in hell than let you near her.”

Shadow Weaver doesn’t move, but Adora can feel the amusement rolling off of her. “A mongrel,” she murmurs. “Just like the parasite we both left behind in the Fright Zone.”

Adora lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Catra is smarter than anyone you ever tortured,” she says, eyes gleaming . The worst part? “

 Shadow Weaver bristles.

“You regret it, don’t you?” Adora presses, stepping forward. “Not letting her flourish. Not seeing her for what she was. Your regret treating her like an animal her entire life”

“Catra was nothing but a dead beat”

“Catra is the reason we are losing this war. She is a tactical genius and because you couldn't see that, because you were so focused on magic instead of smarts. You will never have the power you have always craved. “

Adora jabs the staff against Shadow Weaver’s shoulder, forcing her back a step. “Catra has taken over Etheria,” she snaps. “Something even you couldn’t do.”

Silence.

And then—

“She has, hasn’t she?” Shadow Weaver muses. “You’ve discovered she’s alive.”

Adora stiffens. “You knew,” she growls, barely breathing. “You knew and you lied.”

“For your benefit, dear.”

Cubsy starts to cry.

“Adora!”

Angella is suddenly there, being pushed across the field of discarded tents and empty crates. The wheels of her chair digging into the turned mud. Adora turns, her staff still held level with Shadow Weaver’s throat. Her breath coming ragged and fast. 

“Get away from her” Angella growls, her guard of Rebellion soldiers coming to stand between Adora and her estranged mother figure. Shadow weaver takes a step back, her hands up innocently. 

“Oh Angella dear”

“Back up.”

Shadow Weaver does, slowly, calculatingly. The guards seize her arms, but she does not struggle. She merely watches as Angella approaches Adora, one delicate hand lowering the staff in her grip.

“Adora we’re leaving” Angella reaches out and lowers the staff Adora still holds aloft. Her arm had started to shake. 

“What” Adora asks, her voice thin, brittle. her eyes flitting to Angella’s “what about her? We can't just leave her to crawl back to the Horde.”

“We can and we will” Angella places a hand on Adora’s. Gripping the fist that holds Adora’s staff. “Come with me. We’ll talk”

The guard pushes Angella forward and Adora can do nothing but follow, looking over her shoulder at Shadow Weaver. Looking at her between the soldiers as they grab her arms and force her in the other direction. Adora hopes it’s the last time she ever sees her. But at the same time….. 

“My queen” Adora hisses. Pulling her hand away to close her staff and shove it back in her belt. She pats soothingly at Cubsy’s back. Rubbing her cheek into the top of the sniffling child's head. “You cannot let her go. Can you imagine the horrible things she could do?”

“Adora, we are not in any position to have prisoners. Look at the state of the rebellion” Adora grinds her teeth, her hold on the baby in her arms tightening just a bit. 

She doesn't know what to say. It's a terrible thing to admit even to just herself but she doesn't know what to say because there's nothing she can do. She can't transform into a warrior who can fix all this. She can’t engineer a strategy to screw the Horde over like Catra could. 

She thinks she might cry.

“Adora. “ the queen gestures for the guard behind her to stop. The wheels of her chair sinking lower in the mud. “It’s going to be alright

“Is it? Is it? Because look at us” Adora runs a hand through her hair, ruining her ponytail. Cubsy wines in her arms. 

“Adora” Angella’s hands twist in her lap. It hurts the most because Angella knows she’s right. They're just biding their time before the Horde finally squashes them like a roach. 

“Catra” Adora murmurs, petting her cub down her back and curling her stubby tail around her finger. “We need Catra”

“What? Adora?” Angella reaches out her hand to Adora but Adora is already stepping away. 

“I cannot make up a strategy to get us out of this mess. Of course I couldn't” she presses her chin into Cubsy’s neck and starts to pace. As much as she can when the ground is mud that’s trying to swallow her whole. 

“I was trained to be a weapon. For brute strength.” Adora turns towards the queen “Catra learned to work outside the box. If anyone could get us out of this shit show its her”

“Adora, sit down, think about what you're saying. How would we get her to even work with us? Kidnap her?”

Adora laughs.”yes” she stumbles in the mud, her foot slipping. She catches herself and it propels her forward. “Yes that sounds like a great plan”

“What about the child in your arms?” Angella asks, grabbing Adora’s hand and forcing her to look her in the eye. “Will you leave her in Mount Candilla? With people you don't know? When we spoke about it before you were adamantly against that.”

“Of course I won't” Adora growls, pulling her baby closer to her chest. Cubsy rubs her tear stained cheeks into Adora’s collar bone. As if to soothe her. “I'll only be gone a day or to”

“Baby’s cant survive a day or so without someone to take care of them” Angella says this as if Adora is a child herself. As if she hadn't known that. Adora squeezes her eyes shut and the burning behind them.

“You'll take care of her. Just for two days. Then i'll be back with her mother and shell have more than enough support.”

“I can't take care of her, Adora. She needs you. Im leading a dwindling rebellion out of the country side. In a wheelchair,.” Angella sighs heavily, her thumb running across the back of Adora’s hand. Adora can barely feel it. 

‘“Can't it wait a few days? We need Catra, my queen. We need her if we want to save Etheria.”

“Oh darling, one girl cannot turn the tides of a war”” Angella lets go of Adora’s hand and leans back in her chair. “Catra cannot command a force of wounded soldiers any better than I could. Then you could.”

“Then I want her here” Adora growls, “I want her here in the end. Where she belongs. She’s good Angella and she deserves”

“We cannot stay here for two more days, Adora. We are compromised.”

Adora flinches and turns away, her face to the forest. 

“The horde will probably be coming and we cannot stay here like sitting ducks for them to find.”

Adora starts to walk, not towards the forest but past Angella and into the thicket of dwindling tents. 

“I’m sorry Adora” Angella calls, her hands on the wheels of her own chair as if to follow Adora. Her wheels won't turn in the mud. 

--------)0(--------

--------)0(--------

It’s late when Catra finds herself back in her own sanctum. She chooses to ignore the mess. Adora had cleaned like a mad woman when she was here but…

Catra tightens her tie and tries to smile in the mirror. It turns into a frown, and she starts pulling at the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She doesn't fit in her old suit like she used to. She barely fits at all. The shirt strains at the shoulders, the sleeves a little too short. She’s swapped out the original pants for a stolen pair of black ones, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar. Her combat boots are tied snug to her feet, scuffed and worn from too many long nights.

The bow tie is the same, though. The same one she wore when she blew up the Ice Kingdom. It fits like a charm, the fabric soft from wear, and looks quite dashing with a bomber jacket thrown over it. Also stolen. Stolen and covered in ash, but stealers can't be choosers.

She picks up the bottle of scotch on her dresser and takes a swig, the burn familiar, grounding. When she sets it down, her hand ghosts over the book she never got around to reading. "This Is How You Lose the Time War" fits snugly into the breast pocket of her jacket, its edges pressing lightly against her ribs, a weight she chooses to carry.

She doesn't look at the shackles sitting in the kitchen sink, the ones she never threw out—or more like never returned. There are flecks of blood in the creases, old but never quite gone. Instead she swings a cloak around her soldiers and lets the warm fabric encase her. It used to be Taggart's but when Catra’s had disappeared he had offered it to her. 

The door shakes as Lonnie knocks aggressively on the other side. She has been for the last five minutes but Catra had continued to ignore her. she had more pressing matters. like her mascara. “Catra! get you furry ass out here.” 

Catra rolls her eyes and swings out of her bathroom leaning heavily on her cane. She straightens her jacket and opens the door, what she hopes is a sexy smirk on her lips and an intriguing tilt to her hips. 

I’m ready," she drawls, leaning against the doorframe. It was supposed to be sultry. It might have come out more like a croak but she knows she looks good, even with her cane. 

Lonnie squints at her. "What the fuck?" She gestures to Catra’s outfit. "Why do you look like you’re about to kiss a princess?"

"What?"

"Like, in a fairytale." Lonnie waves vaguely at her slacks, her boots. "You look like you’re about to slay a dragon, but you have to get to the ball first."

Catra scoffs. "I just thought I should look good for my last day."

"Last day? What the hell are you talking about?"

"We’re getting blown up today." Catra says this as if it’s common knowledge, stepping past Lonnie into the hall and letting the door swing shut behind her.

Lonnie stares at her. "Could you not manifest that? I actually don’t want to get blown up. That might shock you."

Catra sighs, picking up a bag at Lonnie’s feet and trudging forward. "Well, you’re just a party pooper today."

"Are you drunk?" Lonnie asks, though it’s not so much a question as a conclusion. It sounds more like, You are drunk.

"Yes." Catra pulls a flask from her pocket and takes a swig- nearly choking when Lonnie snatches it from her grasp.

"God damn it, Catra," Lonnie swears, chucking the flask across the hall. It clatters against the floor, spinning to a slow, mocking stop. "Get your shit together."

Catra exhales through her nose, adjusting the strap of her bag so it sits more comfortably against her hip. The weight is too familiar—too much like a baby attached to her torso. She forces that thought deep down where it can't reach her. "Between the two of us, I’m the best dressed."

"I’m dressed for planting bombs in the Fright Zone. You’re dressed for a suicide."

"It’s not a suicide if I don’t pull the fucking trigger," Catra snarls, pushing past her. Lonnie is dressed for war- black on black on black. Catra? She’s dressed like she’s hoping for a miracle.

she is,

She follows Lonnie into the depths of Fright Zone, passing the empty cadets floors and into the basement. Where bombs would do the most damage. Load bearing walls are marked with thick red exes. No doubt drawn by Kyle and Rogeilo before they led the last load of confused loyal soldiers onto skiffs. 

They make it through the basement and lower levels of the fright zone in no time. Catra with her nightvision in the dark and Lonnie with a humongous flashlight. 

“Do you have them hooked up to the comms server?” Lonnie asks, wiping blasting jelly from her hands and onto the white towel tucked into Catra’s pocket. Catra is far more careful about keeping herself clean than she was earlier. She couldn't ruin this outfit with the horrid yellow jell. 

“Yes, mother,” Catra mutters, tapping at the control panel of the second to last bomb in her satchel. 

“Don't call me that” Lonnie growls, pushing past Catra to the staircase that will lead her to the last, bombless room in Fright Zone. “It makes me feel old”

Catra laughs and hurries after her, away from the suffocating dark. “That must be hard for you, seeing as your baby daddys just left with your devil child”

“And I'm about to follow them,” Lonnie sighs, rubbing at her face. “That thing really is a devil isn't it”

“I've been trying to tell you”

“I dont think it's even a baby.  I have no idea how old it is”

“Then why are you still taking care of it” Catra asks, 

“Because it needs someone. Like I did. Like every cadet in the Horde did” Lonnie says, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I know you understand because you took care of that baby rat you found without hesitation”

Catra looks away and pushes past her to the door of Hordak’s sanctum. She knows Lonnie is talking about Cubsy but maybe if she keeps her mouth shut they can leave the topic alone. Her hand hesitating on the control panel. She doesn’t really want to leave the topic alone. 

“Then why would you tell me to send her away?” Catra asks, “if you understood, why would you tell me she was better off in an orphanage. Better off with someone else.”

“Because you are in no place to be smuggling a baby around Catra” Lonnie says and it makes Catra flinch, reaching for her bad leg. “Not because of your leg or your crippled body. Not because of your fried mind. Not because of you, Catra”

Lonnie wraps her arms around Catra from behind and Catra has to stop herself from letting a whine escape her throat. “You'll be an amazing mom to that monster one day but you cannot take care of a kid when you're under constant threat of death. You are being watched like a dingo on a baby.”

“You don’t think I'm like Shadow Weaver?” Catra whispers, nearly choking on the words. 

“I think you're nothing like Shadow Weaver.” Lonnie pats Catra’s stomach and let's go, “I think as soon as this is done and we’re standing on the other side, your going to do amazing things and find that little snot and be an amazing mom”

Lonnie lets that sit, standing besides Catra at the door and letting Catra sit and take a breath for just a minute. Leaning on her cane. 

Catra nods once. Wiping at her eyes before opening the door.

--------)0(--------

Adora regretted it the moment her feet left the station’s platform. The wind screamed past her ears as she hurtled forward, the rushing train below her a blur of steel and shadow. Her stomach lurched. For a split second, she was weightless, floating in a moment of reckless abandon—

Then impact. A jarring, breath-stealing crash onto cold metal. Her limbs scraped against the rooftop of the train car, rolling with the momentum before she dug her fingers in and clung for dear life. The world rattled beneath her as she gasped for air, the night swallowing her whole.

She should’ve stayed with Cubsy.

The thought hit her harder than the landing had. She should’ve stayed. The baby needed her. Catra needed her to stay. Adora had promised—sworn to herself—that she would. That she would be the one to return this child to her mother.

Instead, she was here, stalking through the belly of a ghost train, her staff tucked at her side and Catra’s tattered cloak draped over her shoulders. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she forced herself forward, peering into the darkness ahead, her breath shallow.

The train shakes with the rails and nearly sends Adora rattling off the side. She steadies herself as best she can on the walls of the passenger train as she slides to the closest door. 

Two hours earlier

“Are you sure you'll be alright with her?” Adora asks, fussing around the baby and tucking her pacifier back into her mouth. 

“We will be just fine, Adora” Perfuma clasps her hands together happily, cooing at the baby in Scorpia’s arms. 

Cubsy is very unsure about her, a stink eye worse than Catra’s marring her face. Adora has to force back a laugh. 

“She likes to wander so keep a close eye on her, yeah?” she says, wrapping the baby sling around Scorpia’s shoulder. “And she can only eat meat. Do not. Give her grain, she's allergic. Really just feed her meat or anything else the guards catch that isn't man made.”

“We know!” Scorpia chimes in, “me and Catra used to get lunch together between assignments.” she rocks the confused darling in her arms back and forth. “Magicats can't eat grains or dairy. Can you? No you can’t”

“We’ll be sure to keep her away from anything that could make her sick” Perfuma says, attempting to pet the cub but pulling her hand away when the girl hisses. “Where are you going anyway? I didn't think we would be able to get this cute baby away from you”

“I don't think she likes being away from you” Scorpia says, cooing at the baby to try to calm her. Cubsy is sticking a hand out to Adora, her claws leaving slight scratches in Scorpia’s red armor. 

“Oh my dear” Adora pets down her back and kisses her forehead but doesnt take her back. The baby wines. Tears welling. “I'll only be gone for a little while”

Perfuma raises an eyebrow at her and Adora pulls away. 

“I'm just going to town, to get a toy or a blanket for her before we move camp. She’s thinking about the stuffed bear Cubsy was always so adamant about tugging around even if it isn’t the truth. She’ll pick something up on her way back. Better yet she’ll bring her the original bear and her mother. . 

“Do you really think that's a good idea? You and Glimmer were recognized there just yesterday.”

“I have my Horde Cloak, they only recognized us because Glimmer was dressed like she had a silver spoon in her mouth,”

“She does tend to do that” Perfuma sighs, glancing at her own flowery attire and then at Scorpia's Brightmoon Guard uniform. 

“I'll be in and out” Adora gently pulls the tiny claws from her hand and gives her baby one more kiss on the forehead. 

Slips out of Scorpia’s tent and pretends she can’t hear the sniffling and beginnings of a cry. She’ll be back before the pacifier can even fall from Cusby’s mouth. This is what’s best for the baby; she just can’t see it yet. She is a baby after all. 

She finds the vendor that Glimmer spoke to the day before. It wasn't hard. The loud mean one is standing next to him and harassing the townsfolk. Throwing fresh oranges and pushing over carts. The quiet Guard stands quite meekly. It’s not difficult to pull him into an alleyway. 

Adora barely had to try. A blast of wind could have knocked him over. 

“Oh!” he grunts and stumbles into Adora, before his back hits the brick wall behind him. 

“Hello,” Adora says. She didn't expect that to be the thing to come out of her mouth but she doesn't kidnap people often. Not that this is a kidnapping, 

“Hey” her voice cracks and Adora realizes this guard is just an exceptionally tall woman. 

“You are not loyal to the Horde” Adora states and it seems to shock the guard a little. She shakes her head admentaly and raises her hands in defense. 

“No, I'm very loyal, I love being loyal. Horde is life” The guard hits her chest and Adora is only more convinced that she’s lying. 

“Im rebellion so it would actually be better for you if you weren’t loyal”

“…Right. In that case—I hate the Horde. Screw the Horde.” The woman nodded vigorously. “Down with Hordak. Boo, oppression.”

“Alright” Adora nods her head but the guard keeps going. 

“Im not loyal at all, I hate the Horde, fuck Horde” that sounded much more real and Adora releases her tight Hold on the woman. 

“I need an in”

“An inn? Like a hotel?”

“No an ‘in’. To the Horde. A way to get in and out without anyone noticing can you do that?”

“You want me to help you commit treason?” she asks, almost as if she’s shocked. 

“Yes, and it’s not treason when you're already trying to sabotage the Horde” Adora rolls her eyes when the guard places a hand over her chest as if she would never do such a thing. 

“I would never do such a thing-”

“I know you’ve been handing out rations to Rebellion soldiers. Look at you!” Adora gestures to the woman's scrangly arms. “You're hardly trying to look like a Horde soldier!”

“I know,” the woman admits and it almost seems like a weight off her shoulders. She hangs her head in false shame. 

“Can you do it?’

“I-” the guard hesitates 

“I need you to hurry up and decide. I'm on a time crunch.”

“The only thing I know about is- well,”

Adora gestures with her head to hurry up and the woman sighs, 

“There's a train. Coming through here. Right about now actually that is going right to the Fright Zone, right to the heart I think. “

“Now?” Adora asks, 

“Yes, like right now, right now, now. I’d run if you wanted to catch it”

--------)0(--------

Adora didn’t want to get out of bed. Not because of the cold or the way the air seeped through the cracks in the walls, sharp as knives against her skin. Not because of the scratchy blankets or the stiff mattress, or even the ever-present hum of machinery that made sleep feel like a distant memory.

She didn’t want to get out of bed because of the dripping in the hallway. Mostly because of the dripping in the hallway. It means there's water running. A slow, rhythmic sound. Water running. Pipes shifting.It means someone is in the shower and Adora knows who it is. 

Adora squeezed her eyes shut, curled in on herself. Catra only takes showers this late when….

It's not that Adora doesn't want to help her. To see how badly she’s hurt. She can barely keep herself in her bed with the want to see Catra. To see if she’s alright if she's bleeding out, if she’s in pain..

No. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see. Maybe if she stayed under the covers, if she ignored the sound, she could pretend. Pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that Catra was curled up against her side, that she was rubbing her chin into Adora’s neck like she always did when she thought Adora was asleep.

The dripping continued. The water runs.

She shouldn't have had it in her locker. Adora doesn't know how she got it. She must have stolen it from Med bay. A print out from Adora’s yearly check up. A picture, a small one. It shouldn't have been a problem. 

But Adora and Catra are under Shadow Weavers supervision and it was. And cara was punished for it. 

She was punished for loving Adora. It’s Adora's fault. 

That shadow weaver found the photo. Adora was just trying to play a prank. 

She had opened Catra’s locker with a little mouse in her hand and a smile on her face. She had opened the locker and seen it. Herself pinned to the inside of Catra’s locker. Smiling back at the doctor taking the photo. 

“Oh” she had said, the mouse slipping from her grip. It skittered across the bottom lip of the locker and squeezed itself through the crack in the door. Disappearing from view. 

Adora reached out and touched the photograph. Her fingers coming up to caress her own forehead. 

Catra had a photo of her in her locker. Soldiers only did that when they love. When their brains are messed up and they can't think straight. 

She shouldn't have held the door open for so long. As soon as she saw it she should have closed the door. Better yet, taken it. Taken it and hidden it in her own pocket so even if Shadow weaver went around snooping Catra would have no incriminating shit in her locker. 

Instead, a shadow peers over her shoulder and Adora is freezing. 

Adora feels like she’s going to throw up. She holds her scratchy blankets to her mouth and tries to choke it back. She hasn't spoken to Catra before Shadow Weaver got to her. She hadn’t had the chance. 

They never spoke about what Adora found in her locker. They never got the chance. 

With a frustrated exhale, she shoved the blankets off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was like ice under her bare feet, and she clenched her toes against the chill.

The hallway was dim, illuminated only by flickering red lights. Adora trailed her fingers along the cold metal wall, following the sound of rushing water. Above her, the pipes rattled, guiding her toward the showers and the locker bay.

She stopped just short of the entrance, hesitating. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t—

But she stepped forward anyway.

The Fright Zone was a wound in the earth, a place where the air itself was acrid, sinking into the bones like rot. The chill was not just temperature—it was something deeper, something that clung to the walls, to the ever-present hum of the machinery that never ceased. It got under your skin, made you feel brittle, like you could snap under the weight of it all.

And Catra was breaking.

“Catra” Adora peers around the half wall and into the showers, almost jumping when Catra’s back appears through the mist. It’s only her standing beneath the spray of a single nozzle. No wonder the water and room was getting so hot. 

“Catra” Adora hisses. Peeling her compression shirt from her back and slipping her socks off her feet. “Are you alright”

Catra doesn't say anything. Her shoulders shake and inky red is swirling into the drain. When Adora is close enough to touch her back Catra jumps as if she hadn't heard Adora. Hadn't known she was there. Adora touches her shoulder.

Just her finger tips first but soon her palm is sliding into the curve of Catra’s neck and feeling her pulse. 

There she feels her body shaking with the force of breath held too long, ribs shuddering, fingers gripping her own arms so tightly her claws threatened to pierce through.

“Catra-”

“I didn't do anything wrong” she gasps, her frame spasming with the force of her breath. “I didn’t- I didn’t”

Adora’s own breath hitches. She should’ve stopped this. She should’ve—

she hadn’t.

“I know that” Adora wraps her arms around Catra. One across from frame and the other across her waist. She digs her face into Catra’s furry neck. She ignores the water and blood soaking into her pants. . “I know that, of course I know that”

“I’m sorry I had it” Catra says, “i'm sorry I took it, i just went in for my check up and it was there and i took it.” she shakes harder and starts to breath heavy and fast a small wine coming through at the end of each gasp, 

Adora squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what Catra was talking about. The photo. The one she had stolen from Adora’s medical records. A stupid, harmless picture of Adora smiling at the doctor, something that should have meant nothing—but in the Fright Zone, it had meant everything.

“I would want you to have it. I would. I'm so sorry I even saw it. It’s my fault” Adora whispers into her shoulder. Holding her tighter to her chest. Feeling their chest rise and fall in staccato rhythm. 

“It's that bitches fault” Catra sobs. Covering Adora’s arms with her own. She clutches at Adora like she was afraid to let go. Like she’s afraid Adora will let go. Her breath breaks into uneven sobs “Run away with me, run away with me, please”

“Catra-”

“Please,” Catra bends forward, as if to get away. Tear free of Adora’s hold but Adora won't let her.

“It’s just a little longer. It’s just a little longer before we’re running things. Shadow Weaver will fuck off and we’ll make this place better”

Catra doesn’t respond to that. She just keeps crying. 

--------)0(--------

Catra pinches the bridge of her nose as Lonnie fumbles. The bombs nearly fall out of her arms and crash to the floor. Catra catches one before it can make contact but Lonnie can handle the rest. 

“Keep it down” Taggart whispers, pushing Catra out of the way and slapping his own bomb onto the back of the black Garnet. Catra herself rolls her eyes and watches him struggle, her body leaning heavily against the metal command table. 

“How many meds are you on?” Lonnie asks, taking the bomb back and stuffing it back into the bag on her back.

“Enough” Catra watches Lonnie elbows Taggart out of the way and sets his bomb too. The man isn't known for handling new technology well and they both know it. 

“And how are they mixing with all the alcohol you've been consuming?,” 

“Fucking amazingly if you ask me” Catra says. Setting her own bomb with the a couple nearly drunken taps

“Set it for at least a half hour, Catra. We don't want everyone to be blown to hell.” Taggart says. 

“Puh-lease” Catra says, giving Taggart the eye. “We both know you'll need more than a half hour to hobble out of here. 

Taggart pinches the bridge of his nose but concedes .”yeah, alright,’

Catra chuckles but sets the bombs as directed. Heaving herself from the command board to Follow after Taggart with her empty bag of bombs and a pep in herstep. 

“Stay here”

“What?” Catra asks, halting in her step, leaning heavily on her cane but still needing her other hand on the command board to keep her from falling. 

“In case Hordak comes back,” Taggart says. Shoving Catra into the chair before Hordak’s screens. 

“I didn't know I was a guard dog” Catra scoffs, sitting back and spinning in the chair.

Taggart rolls his eyes but pats Catra on the shoulder. “Sober up will you? He asks, shoving a bottle of water in her hand

“You two, with me” he says, pointing at Catra's constant entourage. They glance at Catra before nodding and saluting her. Following Taggart from the room. Lonnie glances back one more time before giving Catra one more embarrassing salute.

“I'll see you on the other side alright?” she asks, her hand holding the door open timidly. Catra nods and gives her one back. Two fingers to her forehead. “I'll need someone to drive me around and help me find a small kidnapped magicat”

Lonnie smiles, relief evident on her face. Less from the knowledge of knowing that Catra plans to use her as a chauffeur and more from the idea that Catra has something to look forward to. Even something as small as finding a lost child. 

Catra fucks around for a while. There’s no other word for it. 

She flips her feet up onto Hordak’s desk and rubs the dirt from her boots into the controls untouched by blasting jelly. 

Catra taps her nails against Hordak's command table, counting out a steady rhythm that keeps her from counting minutes instead. Swiveling the desk chair back and forth in a steady rhythm that reminds her almost of Cubsy. It reminds her of the way she would sway when the baby couldn't sleep. When she needed to be held and loved. 

“It would be dinner time by now” she mutters to no one, letting her voice echo through the cold metallic room. The screens flicker lazily, most of them static or flashing with angry red alerts.

Catra doesn’t feel the hunger she normally would around this time. She does feel the pain of not sitting with Cubsy and Adora and eating together. As if they were cadets again, eating with their squadron. 

Catra jumps as the doors slam open, Catra jolts hard enough to tip the chair back, her boots skidding off the desk as she twists to look almost turning to see why Taggart would slam a door but she knows that drunken stumble and its not Taggart’s own. 

Hordak lurches into the room, dripping green fluid from his gaunt arms. It trails behind him like slime from a slug, splattering on the floor in fat, wet drops. His armor is half-unclasped, hanging loose at the sides. His breathing rattles through clenched teeth, sharp and ragged.

He hesitates when he spots her in his chair. His eyes widening and then shrinking. 

"Your feet," he growls, voice grinding like metal teeth, "are on my desk."

"It would seem so, yes," Catra deadpans, but she’s already bracing against the armrests of the chair, her good leg prepared to propel her up and out of the chair. 

Hordak drags himself forward, clutching one of the tubes for balance. The glass fogs where his fingers press against it. He’s paler than Catra’s ever seen him, his skin almost translucent beneath the angry red cracks running up his arms. His eyes gleam like coals, burning bright against the dull slate of his face.

“I think I’m going to kill you know’

“You think or you will”

“I will”

“What happened to your exalted brother?”

"You..." Hordak takes another step, stumbling forward like his knees are buckling under his own weight. "You think... you..." He shudders, clutching at his chest, and for one wild second, Catra thinks he's about to keel over. “Are so funny” he growls finally, a hand ripping off the armor hanging from his body “I decided I'd rather not wait”

“Well you just have to wait a few more minutes and then we can both go out together” Catra says, fiddling with the head of her cane. Hordak’s eyes trace the bombs next to Catra herself. And then the ones lining the walls of his sanctum. 

He takes the impending threat of death with stride and continues to stumble towards her as if he hadn't seen them. Maybe he’s accepting defeat and just wants to kill her himself before he goes. Maybe he doesn't truly understand what this means.  

Catra stands with a groan and picks up her cane. Tapping it slightly against her boot before unscrewing the top. Siding the outside layer off like a sheath and wielding the sword underneath. 

“I'm guard?” she asks, and then starts to giggle. Hordak doesn’t find it as funny. He snarls and lunges, aiming for somewhere in Catra’s midsection but landing in her legs. Sending her sprawling and her sword sliding against the metal 

She growls and slides her claws along his back and everywhere she can reach. Ripping into him. 

He knee him in the gut, with her bad leg, and tries not to wince at the sound of her brace digging and slicing into his abdomen. He grunts and tries to lift himself off Catra and closer to her sensitive middle but as soon as his face is above her stomach she kicks him in the throat and flips, crawling out from under him and toward her discarded sword. 

He growls, grabbing her ankle and dragging her backward precious inches away from her cane. She digs her claws into the metal plating of the floor with one hand and swipes backwards with the other. Sending scratches across his face in stark red lines that start to leak. 

“I’m going to kill you” Hordak growls, clawing at Catra wherever he can reach. His nails are nowhere near as sharp as Catra’s, they barely leave red lines beneath her fur. 

“I’m glad you grew some balls but you'll have to kill me before I kill you” she kicks him in the face and crawls to her feet as he’s distracted. 

He spits blood against the floor and stumbles after her. He’s too late. Catra’s already at her cane and has picked it up. She doesn’t give him a chance to get his hands on her. She swings her sword in a half stable attempt. Her leg nearly collapsed underneath her. 

Hordak nearly screams as the sword cuts across his fingers, severing two and neary a third. 

“Bastard” Hordak grunts, his hand curling against his chest. 

“I really thought you would go for a solid ‘bitch’ but I applaud your feminism”

Hordak lunges. Blocking another swing with his metal arm and wraps the five fingers of his other hand around Catra’s neck. Catra shoves her sword unto his abdomen, digging in the gash already made by her brace.

Hordak howls and squeezes harder, grunting and then whining when Catra plants a foot against him and yanks her cane out. He falls to a knee, the hand around her throat dropping with him. 

Catra laughs. It might be hard to imagine but Hordak kneeling before her, his head bowed and hands on his stomach, is the funniest thing she’s seen in days. 

“So what happened?” she asks, taking a step back to take a breath but still close enough to cut off Hordak’s head if she needed to. “What happened to make you lose your iron will”

“Your little pet is what happened” Hordak growled. “The one with the blonde hair? The blue eyes. The one you let escape ” he presses a hand hard against his abdomen and stands. 

Catra freezes her sword, going a little slack in her hand as Hordak takes a step forward. She takes a step back. “Where did you see her?”

“Where?!” He laughs and steps another forward and Catra takes another back, her tail brushes against the black garnet and she takes a step to the side. 

“She hijacked my fucking train” Hordak follows her has she takes a step back, her sword resting against his armor and then sliding down to rest against the soft ruined flesh of his stomach, “she broke into my car and tried to kill me”

“Then why aren't you dead?” Catra asks but it's more of a desperate growl. She presses her sword harder and grits her teeth. 

“Because I killed her before she could kill me” Hordak snarls, lunging and shoving his armour- covered arm to the side to keep the sword from piercing him again. Catra hits the floor but Hordak doesn't land on top of her. 

He’s thrown to the side as Taggart smashes into him. If only Taggart had come from the other way. If only he had seen Hordak force his arm down and to the side and seen the sword that would pierce him in the gut as he threw his body weight at Hordak. 

Hordak’s head hits the metal plating and bounces harshly. 

“No” Catra snarls, but it comes out more like a snob because she had seen what would happen. She knew what would happen as soon as-

But it's too late. The sword is a foot in Taggart's gut and he squeals. A breath hissing out between clenched, pained teeth. 

“No no no” Catra begs as the sword is ripped from her hand “Taggart, taggert”

“I'm alright” Taggart gasps, his hand wrapping around the sword and he yanks it out. Catra nearly tries to stop him. Years of first aid flood her mind but it's too late. Catra is vulnerable and Hordak can sense it. 

Taggart stumbles to his feet and lunges for her, sword in hand.

Hordak wraps an arm around Catra’s neck and yanks her off her feet, she gasps. Blood pours down Hordak’s temple and onto Catra's shoulder. 

“Drop the sword or I’ll pop her head off” Hordak slurs, holding Catra before his body like a human shield. Catra is still much smaller than him. Her torso only protects barely half his body. But he’s injured and concussed and sloppy.  Taggart growls and thrusts a blow into Hordak’s side.  

 The man growls and kicks out, knocking the sword from Taggart's hand and dropping Catra at the same time before tackling the man to the ground. Catra gasps for breath. Her vision blurring as she searches the ground of the sanctum for her sword. For anything she could kill Hordak with. 

She can’t find it. She can't find it even on her hands and knees searching for it. She can't find it because it's in Hordaks’ hand. It’s in his hand and being thrust down into Taggart’s chest. 

Catra tackles Hordak and sends him sprawling. His head hitting the metal floor for a second time and this time he doesn't stand back up. Her bad leg lands hard against the metal floor and Catra knows there’s no saving it. 

“Pain reverberates up her body through her spine and to her brain. She bites her tongue hard to keep herself from shouting in pain and instead drags her body towards the fallen man besides her. 

She presses her hands against the wound, around the sword protruding into Taggart's chest. Into his soft organs and important arteries.

“Look at me, look at me, Taggert” Catra slaps his face and his eyes finally focus on her instead of the object sticking out of him. It’s in his side. Hordak had missed his center and swerved to his side. It might not have hit anything important. It might be a grazing blow. 

“You think too much Catra” Taggart says, his breath is coming fast and his hands come up to cover Catra. “I'll be fine”

“You'll be fine” she repeats. They both know he won't be fine. There's blood dripping from his mouth and staining his teeth. It’s on his lips too. His beard. 

“Keep your eyes open would you?” Catra asks, slapping the man lightly in the face. “I’m drunk, you can’t die while I'm drunk, that's not fair.”

“I’m sorry dear, I can’t really help it. A lot about life doesn’t seem to be fair” Taggart places his bloody hand on Catra’s bowed head and Catra sobs. She flinches when Hordak's form lunges at her. Trying to separate them, trying to take Catra away from Taggart. Pry her hands of his slowly slackening ones. 

Two guards grab Hordak around the arms and yank him back. Ignoring his snarling and snapping. It’s Catra’s own personal security team. Thing one and Thing two holding Hordak in an iron grip.

“You're going to be ok, Catra” Taggart says, his head lying flat against the metal floor. Eyes focused on the metal ceiling of Hordaks sanctum. Maybe he's praying for a skylight, a glimpse of warm sun.

A whole in the ceiling that would allow light through and keep the darkness out. 

“No I won't, I won't. You’re all I have left, you're all I have-” Catra presses harder against the wound in his side, trying to keep his blood inside him where it belongs.

“Why do you have to die?” Catra sobs, feeling the edges of the sword cut into her own hands. “Why couldn't it be me. Let it be me instead”

“Catra-”

“I should have let him kill me” she sobs, pressing her forehead against his chest, her ears listening for Taggart’s faint heartbeat. ”I don't even know why I didn't let him”

“Because you don't want to die, Catra. No one does. Your a fighter, like me”

Catra grits her teeth and tries to look away from Taggart but she can’t. She can’t because this might be the last time she sees his living face.  

“Catra, my dear. You’re going to do great things” he laughs, and gasps at the pain, “you’re going to do amazing things. I know because people who want it the least do the most”

“no , no, no”

“Yes” Taggart's eyes fade in and out of focus but he lets go of his own bleeding wound to grab Catra’s hand. “You're going to do amaIng things,” blood flies from his lip and dribbles down his chin. “My daughter”

Catra thinks she feels her heart break. Or what's left of it. But that couldn't have been it because whatever she feels when Taggarts hand goes slack in her hand is worse. Far worse. It's worse than…..

Catra is at a loss for words. 

Hordak hits guard one over the head and sends her reeling back. Guard number two knees him hard in the groin and sends him to his knees for a second time this evening. Guard one hits him over the head in revenge and he sprawls forwards onto his hands. 

“I knew you bastards were giving me faulty information” he growls, swiping at them with one of his gnarled hands, “Perfect Catra controlling the Horde Perfectly. Bullshit”

“Fuck you” Guard one spits, kicking him hard in the side. Hordak groans. 

He drops to his stomach and spins in his own blood, kicking the guards feet out from under them before lunging for whoever was closest. He lores over guard one and throws a fist into her helmet. And then again and again. 

Guard one climbs on to his back and wraps an arm around his neck. Closing his windpipe and wrapping her legs around her midsection to keep her on his back. 

“Get off” he growls, spit and blood pouring from his mouth and onto guard one’s helmet. He sends another hit to her helmet, watches her head lull to the side and stumbles to his feet. 

Guard two grits her teeth and tightens her grip on him impossibly tighter. He grunts and stumbles backwards but by the time she realizes he’s moving backwards on purpose it's too late. 

Her back slams into the black garnet, her head taking a set hit from the added weight of Hordaks body. The Guard gasps, thanking the Gods for the helmet she’s worn everyday for years. 

He takes a step forward and slams his back against the garnet again, this time the guard's grip slackens and she slides down against it, her head lolling forward. Hordak stumbles to a stop before them. His eyes scan the wreckage of his sanctum. 

Catra’s curled pitifully around the form of her dead mentor like her fleshy body could protect him. 

“Well, what a shame” Hordak mutters, barely above his breath, “you've killed him.”

Catra’s huddled form freezes. She had been rocking. Back and forth like she wasn't aware she had been doing it. 

“The greatest strategist the Horde has ever seen and he’s dead” Hordak bends and picks up the cane’s sheath. The metal tubing hiding Catra’s makeshift sword. “At your sword.” he chucks it at her, it barely rolls to her feet. 

Catra finally stumbles to her feat. Picking up the sword sheath as she goes. Her brace squeals on its hinges and sends a horrible ringing through Hordak’s ears. He has to fight from covering them. He knows Catra has kept her squealing hinges like that for him. Has kept them as punishment for keeping her here. Alive. 

Catra grasps her cane’s blade around the handle and pulls it free from Taggart guts, the blood dripping from its edge. She slides it back into the sheath and tightens it. Before bending, leaving it reverently against Taggart’s sternum. 

“I feel less conflicted about killing you now” is all she says in the face of Hordak’s accusations. 

“Well it looks like it's too little too late,” Hordak smirks, where he stands with his hand on the lever.

“For all your complaining. Have you ever thought about just.. Not doing it?” he laughs, his other hand coming up against his stomach where blood has stopped pouring. “You've continued to follow my every command like a well trained dog.”

He grins and pulls the lever before Catra can even think to lunge at him on her crippled leg.  

Nothing happens. 

“Despite your belief. That I am a dog” Catra growls, stumbling towards him. “I think its pretty fucking obvious that I have feline ancestors.” 

“What did you do?” it’s a gasp of shock really. His teeth grind hard against each other, the blood from his mouth flying. He tries triggering the handle again. His arm swinging back and slamming the metal again and again into its latch.

Nothing happens and at Catra’s smile he snarls. “I’ll kill you”

“Your starting to sound like a skipping record, ‘I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you’ so many false promises” 

Catra says, “The bombs will explode as soon as you grace the Frigthzone with your presence again”

She says this like it’s a joke, her eyes glancing at a watch she doesn’t have. “And you're a day early.”

Catra’s standing before Hordak when she asks, “when did your train roll into the station Hordak? Mh?”

Hordak stumbles over his words. His hand is still gripping his world ending lever. “How dare you-”

“ The Frightzone will blow up thirty minutes after your train, train 113, rolls into the station.”

Hordak starts to laugh, his hand falling from the lever and joining his other at his stomach. 

“You’ve killed us all”

“Well I couldn't just take myself out.” Catra giggles, “of course I had to take you with me”

“And half of Etheria?” Hordak asks. 

“Oh, no.” Catra smiles. “All those bombs, all the ones you planted. In Silanias, in Brightmoon? Those have been deactivated. Useless” Catra laughs heartily, “The rest are planted all over the Fright Zone.”

“Yes, and what do you think will happen when the energy of the bombs sets off the portal?”

“What?” It’s out of Catra’s mouth before she can stop it. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Bile boiling up. 

“The sword of protection is a rune stone” Hordak laughs, gesturing to the hodge podge of blasting jelly and shattered sword.  “Oh, I forgot Catra, your not a fucking scientist. You didn't know that the electrical energy from the bombs created by me would be enough force set off my portal. 

Catra lunges for the bomb held to the black garnet with glue that has hardened like steel. 

“Seeing how I rolled into the status nearly thirty minutes ago it seems my plan will be fulfilled any second won’t it?” he asks but Catra knows he doesn't want an answer. 

“You just had to place a bomb on the Garnet didn't you. Were you hoping it would destroy it, blow it up? Maybe.

Catra isn't listening, she’s trying to stop the timer from ticking down. A minute and Thirty seconds, sixty nine, sixty eight. She should have known. She knows intimately what the Black Garnet is capable of. What electricity courses through its cracks and into the veins of its masters. She should have known. 

An arm wraps around her midsection and Catra snarls, her hands tearing away from the bomb. 

“Oh no,  no, no,  I can't let you do that” 

“I would let her do whatever she wants if I was you” Catra’s head jerks up at that voice. Blood rushed through her ears. Her heart dropping to the floor, dread filling her stomach. Adora stumbles from the door of Hordak’s sanctum, leaning heavily on a staff. 

Her eyes track from the corpse in the middle of the room, too one of Catra’s Guards dragging the other away from the black garnet. 

“Where’s Cubsy?” Catra asks, like her life was taken from her. Like this is the worst possible thing that could have happened. Adora here, in the Fright Zone. 

“I’m here for you” Adora says, walking forward, towards the black garnet and towards the bombs “I’m going to take you home”

“Where is Cubsy” Catra asks again but it’s more like a plea. like she’s hoping this is a hallucination brought on by alcohol and painkillers. fighting against Hordaks hold and the tears tracking against her cheeks, “you didn't bring her here. Tell me you didn't bring her.”

“Of course I didn't,” Adora says, her eyes tracking the way Catra’s chest drops in relief. And then Catra’s claws as they carve deep gouges into Hordak’s arms. The man roars and drops her. Catra throws her head back into Hordak’s nose, ignoring the sharp pain that echoes through her head. 

“Adora, get out!” Catra stumbles forward, away from the garnet. “It’s going to-”

--------)0(--------

Chapter Text

Catra growls, it’s playful and teasing, especially with Adora. her nails tickling into Adora’s arms, leaving lines of beautiful, harmless, red. Adora giggles, wrapping her arms around the feline's midriff. Catra is all too happy to be pressed, stomach to stomach, to Adora. Though Adora uses the opportunity to lift her into the air.

so Catra uses the opportunity to unbalance the blonde. A leg wrapping around Adora’s own and collapsing it at the knee with a kick of her heel. 

Adora squeals, over correcting with her other leg, falling to her knees and sending them both tumbling to the sparring mat. Catra grunts as the brute falls on top of her lower half, crushing her to the floor. 

“Get off, you big lug!” she grunts, but it's really a laugh. She wraps her arms around Adora’s muscled torso and tries to leverage herself on top. Unfortunately, Adora has always been muscled like a stud. Her weight is far too heavy for Catra to lift on her own. Even with both Catra’s feet on the floor to give her the extra edge. 

Adora chuckles and grasps one of Catra’s wrists, pinning it to the floor. “You haven't won yet”

“I've won more time than you can count” Catra says around her playfully snarl, kneeing Adora in the ribs and using the blonde’s own momentum to finally land on top, her legs straddling the girl's chest, knees tucked into the blonde's armpits. 

Adora uses her grip on Catra’s hand to yank her to the side, sending the feline off balance but not completely off of her.

Adora is unbothered. Bucking her hips while Catra is at the disadvantage and sending the feline tumbling forward. Catra crawls away, kneeing Adora in the face and scrambling back to her feet. She faces Adora in a steady stance, ready for another wrestling match as the blonde struggles to a standing position. 

They’re both breathing heavy, hands held out and ready to grab any flying limbs. 

“How come you're so good when we practice but then you don't even try in the tournament!” Adora complains, rubbing at her face with a hand. 

“I’ll lose my element of surprise” Catra sniffs, she nearly goes to cross her arms before she realizes that’s what Adora wants. For her to drop her guard.

“Is it really an element of surprise if you never use it?” Adora grins when Catra pouts, her hands falling back into a wrestler's stance. 

“Do you yield?” Adora asks, faking a lunge forward at Catra’s knees. Catra retaliates with a flick to the blonde’s brow. 

“You need to stop reading Taggart’s mission reports” Catra says, leaping back as Adora lunges and landing lightly on her toes as the blonde stumbles. “They’re making you sound like an idiot”

“I think he uses all that stupid language to entertain himself” Adora says, her brow furrowing as Catra dodges another attack by sliding to the side. 

“He does it to entertain us” Catra says, shoving Adora as she jumps out of the way and sends the blonde off balance. Stumbling on one leg and perfect for Catra to grab around the midriff and kick the back of her knee. 

Adora falls to her hands and knees under Catra’s weight.  Hesitating as Catra wraps her up in her limbs like an octopus, an effective choke hold that keeps her from getting a full breath. 

“More like for you” Adora gasps, rearing up on her knees, like an unruly horse, before falling backward. landing hard on Catra and knocking the wind from her, her hold loosens for just a second but it’s enough for Adora to spin in her grasp. 

Stomach to stomach Adora presses her hips down into Catra’s and forces her to the mat. Her arms force up trying to break Catra’s iron grip. It’s no use, even with her superior strength, and they both catch their breath for a second. 

Breathing hard against each other, their hearts beating frantically in tandem.  Catra’s arms and legs wrapped around Adora’s neck and waist, keeping her close and unable to retaliate. 

Adora hands holding Catra’s arms in a firm grip, her head tucked into the girl's neck. 

“You're finally the favorite,” Adora teases between breaths, her brain racking for defensive maneuvers that could give her the upper hand. 

Catra chuckles against her, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she struggles to keep from nibbling Adora just a little. Instincts tell her to bite playfully but leaving marks like that would only get her punished. 

“Too bad it won’t ever amount to anything. Taggart has little say when it comes to the other Force Captains.”  Catra says, letting go of Adora’s waist with one leg and using it to try to tip them over on their sides if not onto Adora’s back. Adora doesn’t even budge. Using her weight to her advantage again and tucking her knee up and under Catra’s ass. “Hordak can’t give me shit”

The feline growls and Adora grunts and lifts her completely off the ground. One knee on the floor and the other kneeled like Adora is about to propose. Catra snarls out a laugh and lets go of her chokehold, grabbing Adora’s forearms and forcing down her midriff. Her leg wrapping back around her waist as the other jerks down into her bent knee and shoving it to the side. 

Adora grunts and falls to her side, then her back as Catra forces her arms down against the mat. 

“He can give you his mission reports,” Adora says, letting her head rest against the mat with a thump. Her muscles are thoroughly spent, lifting Catra off the mat using only her core muscle was a little more than she could handle. She taps the ground twice and lets out a breath when the tension in Catra’s own muscles loosen. 

Though the feline doesn't make a move to get off Adora. She instead slouches still straddling her, her fingers loosening their iron grip, muscled legs softening. 

They’re still wired and ready to keep going. Her stamina knows no end. It hasn’t ever ceased to amaze Adora. 

“He gives you those books” Catra looks away from her at that. A subject they don't usually broach. The books are a secret. If not from Adora’s eyes then her mind. Even if it is just for as long as it takes for Catra to read them. Then a book annotated and dog eared usually appears below Adora’s pillow. 

The books are never spoken about. Adora isn’t privy to Catra’s voiced emotions. Her thoughts are contained to the pages of the book, then burned when the book has lost its purpose. 

Contraband like that could be considered treason. It's best not to get caught with it. No matter how much Catra would like to reread. 

“Both of which I share with you” Catra says, her head droops forward as if she just lost the will to keep it up. Adora knows this routine and relaxes as a cheek is slid lazily across her own, down her neck and against her collar bone. 

A happy tail whips behind Catra, drawing across Adora’s legs and tickling her slightly. 

“But you understand them in a way I could never understand.” Adora says, letting her arms spread eagle as Catra plasters herself to her body. Nails digging into broad shoulders, teeth digging lightly into her shoulder. 

“He shares intellectually with you in a way I, nor Weaver, ever could.”

“I wouldn't want any of Weaver’s intellect,” Catra says as if the thought disgusts her. 

“But you would want mine?” Adora teases, planting her feat and levering herself up into a sitting position with her arms. Catra sits up primly, knees against the floor, and rests her ass against Adora’s knees. Adora leans back and looks up at her.

“All you think about is training and food” Catra tilts her head as if thinking about it “but if you have anything intellect worthy to give me I’m all ears”

Adora glances at said fluffy ears and pretends to ponder on it. A hand coming up to run through her hair. 

“Well, my fair maiden” Adora winks, jostling Catra a little with her legs. “The wisdom I bestow upon you is this” Adora leans forward, watching Catra tip just a bit closer as well, almost interested in what she has to say.

Then, Finger’s dig lightly into her furred sides and Catra squeals, pushing Adora harshly away with a wide grin. It’s hard to do when she’s in the girl's lap so she only exceeds in getting pulled closer, arms wrapped around her midsection and Adora’s body curled around her. 

Normally it would send a flash of heat down to her core. Her heart thumping wildly and an almost adrenaline like excitement across her skin. 

This time she freezes, a gasp wracking her frame. 

--------)0(--------

A glimpse of reality

Catra is reminded of long dead sparring sessions, even as her tongue is nearly bitten off by her own hand. Her teeth dig sharply into it. 

She had meant to say ‘explode’, lunging as if her broken body could shield Adora from anything besides a light rain. 

Adora lunges for her in turn, her staff dropping to the floor and her hands reaching out as if to shove Catra. 

Catra must be imagining it. It must be an afterglow of long dead vision cones in her own eyes. Her optic nerve finally giving out after years of abuse. But Adora seems to glow. 

Catra eyes widen as strong arms wrap around her. Larger than Adora’s have ever been. Ever could be. Long days wrapped around each other have taught Catra the lines of Adora. The way her arms reach all the way around her to clasp in the middle. How her muscles stretch trying to accommodate Catra’s own toned stomach. 

More recent nights had shown her the scars wrapped around her forearms. The way her pinky didn't entirely function the way it should. 

The arms wrapped around her now are spotless. Not a single scar or blemish. They wrapped around her midsection fully. The large body they’re attached to blocks her entirety from the blast of what should be the Black Garnet shattering to pieces. 

Catra had jumped to protect Adora but it seems She-ra protected them both instead.

Richoches and trembles shake the floor beneath them. They don’t even have time to feel the full effects of the ringing in their ears before their eyes are engulfed in blinding white. 

--------)0(--------

“Catra?” Adora asks, her hands sliding with the grain of Catra’s fur, smoothing down the frazzled nature of her spine. 

Catra must have had too much of the brown ration this week. Spent too much time in the mud room, breathing in the fumes of broken skiffs.  “What's wrong? Is someone coming?”

“No” Catra stutters, blinking spots she doesn’t remember receiving from her eyes. “No, no one's coming. Not that that’s something we need to worry about” she smiles, the last of someone else’s terror fading from her chest. Her ears twitching at the birds tweeting throughout the trees.

Her head jerks up, eyes squinting into the forest beyond. When had they gone to the forest? When did they leave the gym? The training mats?

“We were just.. wrestling, right?” Catra asks, a hand on her head as she looks back down at Adora. 

“Yeah?” Adora says, confused. Arms tightening around Catra. “Of course we were. Are you alright?”

“Yeah” Catra relaxes fully into Adora’s arms. Her tale wrapped around Adora’s thigh, hands on her shoulders as she presses the length of their bodies back together.. “I just could have sworn-”

A tiny trill and the patter of feet have her jerking her head up a second time. She knows that trill and she knows that patter of feet. She knows that smell . An excitement fills her and her prior confusing feelings are gone. 

Her grip tightens on Adora’s shoulders, Her eyes zeroing on the small animal running towards her. She shoves up and off of Adora. Stepping on her stomach in her attempt to reach Cubsy quickly. Adora lets out an amused wheeze.

She sprints to the tree line, stumbling to her knees before the baby and wasting no time in curling her up in her arms. Face dragging against Cubsy’s own. Scent marking her. 

“Well I sure feel like chopped liver.” Adora grunts, arms wrapped around her midsection. A gasp stuck in her chest. “You saw her barely ten minutes ago”

Catra breathes in Cubsy’s baby smell. Enjoying the feeling of her little paws tapping on her face. 

“Oh,” Catra stands, her hand still protectively against the baby’s back. Cubsy doesn’t stop rubbing her face against Catra’s, as if she also feels some sort of separation anxiety. Like she hadn’t held her baby in weeks.

Catra shifts to a squat easily, her knees bending without resistance. It shouldn’t surprise her, She’s only 25, she doesn't know why she expected pain, stiffness. When she stands fully, kit securely in her arms, she can only blink. 

“Now, you're not even going to bring my baby back to me,” Adora complains. The whining tone in her voice teases.

“Your baby?” Catra laughs, moving from her stupor and finally strolling over to the blonde, standing before her and balancing with one foot pressed lightly against the stomach she just pummeled. “This is our baby” 

Cubsy trills happily, as if she understands, peeking over Catra’s arms and down at her mom. Adora can’t help but smile back, arms reaching up for the child. Catra rolls her eyes and instead curls herself into Adora’s arms herself. 

“Oof” Adora grunts, but there's a smile splitting her face as her two girls rub their faces into her neck. 

--------)0(--------

Base of mount Candilla

Angella can tell that something is wrong. 

It wasn't the fact that she couldn't find Adora anywhere. Or the sweep of magic that had Glimmer falling to her knees in the mud like someone yanked her bones out. It’s not even the green lights shooting down from the sky like Etheria got put under a magnifying glass and someone’s trying to burn holes in the ants running across it.

It was the ships hovering over their atmosphere. It’s the stars in the sky that Angella’s people haven't seen in a thousand years. The way the spires hover over the Rebellion encampment now. One of them starts drifting lower—almost lazily. She stares at it as it shadows the whole valley, blocking out the moon. Her stomach twists. That thing isn't just flying. It’s targeting .

The scream coming from one of the last tents still not taken down. Someone near the edge of the encampment yells for help. The shouts of guards break through the night after that…Then another scream. this one high and shrill and obviously from a child. 

Bow takes off sprinting for Scorpa’s tent as soon as the scream breaks out. Glimmer staggers after him, one hand clutched to her stomach like she’s about to vomit magic, still weak from the wave that spread across Mount candilla. That spread across Etheria. 

Angella jams her wheels forward. Nothing. The mud’s thick and cold and greedy. It grabs at the wheels and holds tight like it wants her to stay helpless. She grits her teeth and shoves with everything she has, her arms shaking, pain shooting up her back.

She can’t move.

“Move, move, help me! ” she snarls

Angella curses under her breath as her wheels stick again. 

Juliet finally gets the snap out of it and starts pulling her through the muck. It’s clumsy. It’s humiliating. Her wheels spin and fling sludge across her dress. She rushes to push Angella free of the sucking mud, her own army boots getting sucked in like quicksand. 

The tents have exploded outward. It would be hard to find one still standing. They get over a small ridge- and everything’s gone .

Scorpia’s tent is a crater now. Just charred scraps and melted poles still dripping with smoke. A scorch mark blackens the ground where the clones’ gunfire hit. The air smells like metal and burning plastic.

Shadow Weaver is there, of course she is. where she goes, terror follows.  Angella had told her guards to take that witch far away but she should have known better than to expect Weaver to fade away. 

Angella was so overwhelmed. So much she had to do and control and lead. It doesn't matter now, she’s already failed. 

Weaver lunges across the ruins, her hands reaching like claws. Perfuma’s got Cubsy cradled against her chest, screaming and backing away, mud up to her knees.

Scorpia’s in front of them, blood running down her temple. She’s breathing hard, crouched like she’s about to charge again. One of her arms hangs limp, the armor on her claw scratched and cracked in a way Angella hadn’t thought possible. 

“Give me the horrid creature!” Shadow Weaver howls, stumbling over debris. “Before their kind destroys her! Before it ruins her again!”

Perfuma shouts something but it gets swallowed up by the thunk of more clones slamming into the ground with a flash of green light. Their feet splash mud like it’s water and not earth. 

Bow’s already shooting. He fires an arrow that explodes into a net, tangling two of the clones and slamming them into a tree with a crack of knocking heads. Glimmer whips her staff around and blasts another in the face, but her magic sputters. She's still drained, still off-balance from whatever that was that pulled them through and brought the stars back.

The mud’s dragging down everyone. Even the identical clones. Every step’s a gamble. Perfuma tries to back up with Cubsy but slips and nearly goes down. Scorpia catches her with one arm, awkward, but steady. She shoves Perfuma behind her and takes the full force of a clone’s punch to the gut.

“Back off!” Scorpia says, low and threatening. She’s staggering in the sucking mud but not falling. “

 Bow stumbles between them, his bow raised and drawn at Shadow Weaver. 

“Get away from them” he says calmly, Glimmer right behind him with her own staff raised. 

More clones drop. Five. Six. Eight. Ten. 

“Glory be to Horde Prime” the one closest to Angella chants, turning towards them with a raised gun and grunting as Juliet knocks them over the head with her spear. 

Angella’s screaming now, voice already gone raw. “Fall back! Get her out! Get the baby out! ”

Her wheels are stuck again, buried in the sucking mud. She throws her weight forward, but it’s useless. One of her guards slips trying to pull her free, face-planting into the sludge with a splash. Juliet is yelling, hands scrambling over the chair, trying to get leverage. “We need to go, we need to go now-”

Angella shoves forward again. Her chair tilts dangerously—then jerks sideways and slams into a tree root hard enough to rattle her bones and send a jolt of pain up her wings. 

She can’t help them.

She can’t reach her daughter. She can’t reach anyone.

Perfuma tries to run, clutching Cubsy so tight the baby squeals. She stumbles. Mud takes her ankles, trips her. She catches herself, barely, and tries to move again—but the clones are closing in.

One grabs her by the shoulder and rips her backwards. Another goes for the baby.

Perfuma shrieks. She lashes out with her free hand, vines exploding from the dirt and knocking the clones back. She turns, mouth bloody from falling, she must have bit her tongue. Hard from the looks of it. She tries to run again.

“ Scorpia! ” she cries.

Scorpia’s already there, blood streaking her face, muscles shaking, backing Perfuma up. “I got you! I got you- ”

Then a clone drops behind her, silent as death, and drives something hard into the base of her neck.

Scorpia arches. A scream tears from her throat, guttural and wrong. She collapses, hitting the mud like a falling tree.

“ No! ” Perfuma sobs, dropping beside her. She cradles Scorpia’s head, shaking her. “Come on, come on, get up-  don’t you do this-"

Scorpia twitches. Her eyes open and Perfuma gasps in relief, tears falling from her eyes faster than she can whip them away, 

“I was so worried, darling I-”

Scorpia shoves her away, quickly getting to her feet and that’s when Angella realizes something is very wrong. Her eyes are green, bright green. 

“Scorpia?” Perfuma whispers. She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe. “Scorpia, please, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“Glory be to Lord Prime” Scorpia says, reaching for the baby in Perfuma’s arm. Perfuma sobbing, twists away from her. 

“Get away from her Perfuma” Angella calls reaching out and keeping a firm hand on the wheel of her chair so Juliet cannot drag them away, “get away from her right now”

Perfuma isn’t paying her any mind, her eyes are focused on the green of Scorpia’s

“ Fight it! ” Perfuma begs. “You can do it, fight whatever they did to you. You’re stronger than this, please just- ”

Scorpia might be strong but the chip is stronger.

Scorpia reaches for the baby.

Perfuma tries to run again, her feet slipping in the slick mud.  More clones crash through the wreckage before she can even make it a couple feet. One grabs her wrist, another grabs her leg, and they pull her down hard. She screams and kicks, vines bursting up everywhere- but there’s too many. Too fast.

“ No! ” she sobs as Scorpia leans down, ignoring her, ignoring the cries, ignoring everything.

Glimmer fires another blast. It barely slows the clones. One of them punches her straight across the jaw, and she hits the ground with a grunt, her staff spinning away.

Bow’s trying to fight his way to her, but two clones get him from behind. They beat him down hard, his bow lost in the dirt.

Juliet’s screaming at Angella, yanking the chair backward, trying to get them out.

“ They’re gone! ” she cries. “We have to move, Your Majesty-  we have to! ”

They're just-  gone.

Angella screams.

Juliet’s dragging the chair backward now, half lifting it, sliding through the mud. Angella’s hands slip free and slap into the dirt. She tries to crawl, to get back, to do something.

Bow vanishes in a beam of green light.

Then Glimmer.

Juliet throws herself behind the chair and shoves , wheels churning through muck and fire. A blast hits a tree behind them and sends branches raining down.

--------)0(--------

Adora feels like a weight has lifted off her shoulders. She isn't sure why. It might just be physically. Though she had enjoyed having Catra in her lap, her tail swishing and curling around her legs. It didn't feel like a relief when Catra had stood, hands on Adora’s shoulders, and proclaimed her hunger but now Adora is walking through the forest feeling lighter than air. 

In reality something has been placed on her shoulders. 

Cubsy giggles, kicking her little feet against Adora’s arms. Wiggling their toes in Adora’s sure grip. Adora is grinning, tickling the cub's soles and jostling her, just a bit, to get another breathless laugh out of her. 

Catra is walking leisurely next to them

“I could stay out here with you forever” she spills out of her mouth before she can stop it. She watches as Catra’s face brightens and turns towards her. 

“well , that’ll be hard, you have class tomorrow”

The trees behind Catra glitch. Their green leaves turn into bright purple walls of fire for just a second. Adora stops in her tracks. What was that?

“Babe?”

Adora jerks and looks back at Catra. She has stepped into Adora’s personal space without her knowing. Their faces are just inches apart. Catra’s eyebrows are drawn together. Her ears lowered in concern. 

“Are you alright?” She places a hand to Adora’s forehead as if to feel for a fever, before reaching up and taking Cubsy from Adora’s shoulders. Adora doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of her warm hand because it soon finds itself back to her face, resting on her cheek. 

“You're usually excited to go to class.”

“Oh- Yeah I am” she smiles at her, her own hand coming up to cup Catra’s. “Sorry, I just thought I saw- I can’t remember actually”

Catra laughs at that. Moving to her tiptoes to rub her forehead against Adora’s. She presses her lips to Adora’s quickly before turning back around and strolling along the dirt road. She turns back when she realizes Adora isn't following her. 

“You coming?” 

Adora stumbles to catch up.

--------)0(--------

Hordak howls beneath the rubble of the once great fright zone. His hand reaches out towards Catra as if she would throw herself at the opportunity to save him. 

She’s curled protectively in Adora’s- She-ra’s arms. Adora still has her eyes screwed shut, Even as she shoves the concrete holding her down off her back her whole body trembles with the effort. Catra feels the warmth of her arms leave her body as Adora becomes more aware. 

Catra glances at one of her guards dragging the unconscious other from the rubble. 

Then the sword- that damned sword- still jutting from the obsidian stone, sizzles once. Sparks against the black garnet like a live wire.

She-Ra vanishes. The light dies in an instant, like a blown-out candle. There’s a pause, one impossible breath of stillness where Adora’s Chest refuses to move and Catra’s stomach drops out from under her-.

Then Adora gasps. It’s wet and in no way a good sign but the relief that rushes through Catra is nearly unbearable. Adora slumps forward and lets Catra take her weight. The feline grunts and turns, placing a hand against her bloodied cheek. 

Adora rests her forehead against Catra’s neck and takes a moment to breath. Her lungs rattling unpleasently. 

Catra squints through the settling dust at the door to Hordak’s sanctum. Or what’s left of it. It’s rubbled and caved in. The only escape now is up and out. Not that, that will be very hard, seeing as the ceiling to Hordak’s lair has fallen on top of them. 

Her eyes almost skim over him. She had planned to let them. She had planned to not even notice. But the ceiling had fallen in a near perfect circle around him. As if planned. 

Taggart.

He’s slumped half on his side in the dust, one arm stretched out like he was reaching for something. For someone. His chest isn’t rising. There’s blood in the grooves of his armor.

Catra’s sword rests across his chest. She must’ve placed it there. She must’ve knelt beside him. She must’ve…

Adora coughs weakly against her neck, her arms tightening weakly around her torso. 

--------)0(--------

“It’s called talent, dummy. Maybe if you had some you would understand,”

Adora binks, shaking her head just a bit as the sun seems to blind her. She vaguely registers that she’s in pain. It radiates through her hip and down her leg. She just can’t remember what happened. She rubs absentmindedly at her waist. 

“Adora?” Adora’s head jerks up and she blinks again before smiling. Catra tilts her head in just a bit of concern before glancing down at the hand Adora uses to rub circles in her own hip. “You alright?”

Adora laughs and rolls her eyes. “Yes, I'm just getting a migraine from your bragging”

Catra scoffs and turns back to her book. She rests it against her knee and pets down Cubsy’s  back with the other. Adora watches them and can't keep the smile off her face. She knows Catra can see it but the feline doesn't seem to mind the staring. She instead leans into Adora and rests her head against her shoulder. Catra’s ear flicks against Adora’s neck just slightly and the blond blushes. 

“I’m just saying that even you, muscles for brain types, can understand the complexities of my battle strategies.” 

“Yes, of course, master Catra. Why would anyone think that I, someone who took all the same classes as you, would ever be able to understand simple strategy. It's absurd! Un thinkable. It’s almost as if i got- Gasp- better grades”

Catra shoves her without looking up from her book and Adora laughs. Letting Catra’s head slip from her shoulder with only a lot of mourning.

“I’m going back to the Horde where they appreciate my gifts” she says, finally closing her book, coming to terms that she won't get much reading done today. Not if Adora has anything to say about it. She leans into Adora’s side completely, like a ragdoll, sliding down Adora’s arm. She turns so her head can fall into the blonde’s lap this time. 

Cubsy’s face scrunches adorable as Catra pulls her up to her chest, but she goes right back to sleep when Catra starts to purr. 

“Pu-lease” Adora says, running a hand through Catra’s short locks. “Those assholes never appreciated you” she tips her head closer, her eyes focused on Catra’s lips.  “And no one appreciates you like I can” Adora lowers her voice and wiggles her eyebrows when Catra peaks an eye open. 

Catra tries to hide a smirk but it's obvious that it’s there. “Getting cocky, are we?” Catra asks, 

“I don't need a cock and you like me better that way” Adora says lowly. Catra bursts out laughing, shaking Cubsy on chest and laughing even harder when the baby lifts her head, disgruntled. 

“Well, no one could make me laugh as much as you can,” Catra concedes. Petting the cub on her chest and pretending to think, “and no one touches me like you do” she whispers slowly smiling when Adora tugs just a bit with the hand in her hair. Her eyes flit to lip bitten between Adora’s teeth. 

Catra hums and then gives a firm nod “you've convinced me with your begging a groveling-” Adora’s mouth drops open in outrage. “I guess I'll stick around for just a bit longer” she points a finger at Adora and glares. “But this is your last warning”

Adora rolls her eyes before finally leaning down to kiss her. Catra hums happily into it. A hand coming up to grab Adora’s around the neck to keep her from pulling away.  Her lips are soft, pliable. They open for Adora as she swipes her tongue across Catra’s bottom lip. 

A twinge of pain shoots its way up Adora’s thigh. Adora winces and pulls away a bit, her eyes screwed shut, no longer in pleasure, but in pain.

“Adora?-”

--------)0(--------

Hordak’s train, before the explosion

Hordak isn’t easy to find. Or maybe Adora is just tired. She fights her way through the empty cars, kicking open doors and becoming increasingly annoyed. She’s starting to think he’s not even here. 

Maybe this is a ghost train prepped for this very scenario. A decoy to distract any potential assassins. Even last minute ones who aren't really assassins. 

Unfortunately, that’s not the case,  Hordak just finds her first. It’s a rude awakening. One Adora hadn't even heard coming, She grunts as his foot finds the small of her back and shoves 

“You really aren't as stealthy as that little animal are you?” he asks, kicking her again, this time in the ribs. Before she can get to her feet .”I never realized how harshly Weaver was playing favorites. She is better than you in nearly every way”

“Catra has never been one to follow orders” Adora grunts, spinning and kicking his ankle harshly. It was meant to send him collapsing to the floor but he barely remains standing. Stumbling just a bit. 

“But she’s always been a quick learner” Adora stumbled to her feet and detached the staff from her belt. She hefts it in a defensive position but Hordak doesn't seem all that set on making the first move. 

He takes another step back into the shadows of the train. The hallway is tight but manageable for a fight. They’ll just have to be ok with working in the confines of it. 

“To be honest I never noticed her, not until she brought me Entrapta. Only then was I intrigued, just a bit, by the mongrel slinking around my halls.” Hordak pulls a staff from his own belt. This one is more familiar to Adora. Horde issue. 

His stance is familiar too. If a stance could be called Horde issue she would. It’s obviously Horde taught. Maybe inspired. He might have been the very person to teach it. He was the person who defeated the original princess alliance after all. 

“Did you think you would be able to kill me?” he asks, He’s unusually calm. Genuinely curious it seems. Adora has never seen him like that. She has only ever been on the other end of his frantic evil monologues or desperate yelling. He smiles now, showing bloody teeth. “Did you think it would be easy?” he asks. 

Adora shrugs and then “yeah, pretty much.” and she had. She expected to find an overly cocky Commander with weak limbs and an even weaker will. 

Hordak chuckles. Spinning the staff in his hand, “I guess you’ve never seen me in the field. You're young- new. The old Rebellion members would have seen me in my prime. To bad they’re all dead now” 

Adora laughs, It feels good. She never realized how ridiculous it felt to talk before a fight. It never felt ridiculous before. Not with Catra. It felt like life or death then. Like her words actually mattered. Like if she said the right thing she would be able to get Catra to, finally, stop. To join her. 

Then after Catra ‘died’ well Adora didn’t do much talking. 

“I see you're still blindly believing your Horde spies” Adora smirks, trying her best to channel Catra. to use her cocky swagger and unwavering confidence.  “It’s to bad they’ve all been bought. The Queen lives, thrives really”

Hordak hesitates, his eyes narrowing at Adora. His jaw clenches. Adora can’t tell if he’s all that surprised or not. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“Is she now”  it’s not a question, more like a statement. 

“That rat still tricks me even after she’s been rendered useless.” he smiles then. “It’s so relieving to know she won't be alive for much longer”

It’s Adora's turn to gnash her teeth. 

“She had hoped you’d come for her” Hordak says, his eyes glinting when Adora growls audibly. “Years ago, you know, when she died. No! Don't worry!” Hordak laughs as Adora lunges, her staff coming down hard against what should have been Hordak’s head. He’s quick to block her,

“I revived her of course” blood and spittle flies from his mouth as he growls. “No matter how much she didn’t want to be.”

Adora grunts, as a knee forces its way into her torso. She feels her bones get shoved around into her body. “No matter how loudly she cried for her only friend to save her. To come back to her”

Adora slides her staff down the edge of his and slams it into the fingers grasping it. Hordak howls, dropping it. Adora wastes no time in using her opening. She swipes her staff across his neck. It deflects off his armor but It sends him keeling over and coughing, holding the side of his face. She sends her next strike across the back of his knee, forcing him into a kneel. 

Adora lifts her staff for another blow, prepared to beat him into a bloody, meaty pulp. But she loses her footing as the train squeals. She falls to the floor next to him, landing hard on her palms and knees. 

Hordak is laughing next to her. He reaches for his staff but Adora kicks it away, throwing hers as well as they fall into hand to hand combat. Hordak swings first, a fist connecting with Adora’s jaw as he tries to crawl on top of her. Adora plants a foot on his sternum and shoves. 

He stays on his knees but Adora reels back again and kicks him this time in the chin. Blood spurts from his mouth and stains Adora’s cloak in red. He must have bitten his tongue.

“It seems you're too late. Spending so much time looking for me when I was behind you the entire time”  Hordak catches Adora’s next kick, his grip true even as she struggles and kicks at him with her other leg. “Or should I say, two steps ahead?” he asks, watching as Adora struggles. He smirks when Adora goes for his throat with her hands.

Hordak had pulled a knife from his belt. Adora hadn’t noticed. Not until she’s close enough to see the glint of the blade. 

He plunges it into her hip and laughs as she bites down on an unholy squeal of pain. He carves it down her thigh and then twists it, almost filaying her flesh and digging the edge of the blade into her bone. beneath her knee cap.

--------)0(--------

Catra stumbles in the kitchen and Adora knows she can feel it too. The sense that something is wrong.

Adora has been through this before. They both had but Catra had been willfully ignorant that time. The signs are easier to spot the second time. Adora tries to make direct eye contact with Catra and when the feline looks away, avoiding her gaze. she knows. 

They both do. 

“Are we going to pretend?” Adora asks. She’s more than willing to. It feels so different from the first time. Where she took every weird assurance and had wanted to know the truth. Would tear her world apart to know the truth. 

She wonders how long they can ignore it before it collapses. 

They shifted from a walk in the forest to Catra’s room in the Fright Zone. Though this time the kitchen looks over an apartment complex and it isn’t in the basement. 

Catra gently takes her hands from the sink. It seems that she was washing dishes. Cubsy is next to her on the kitchen counter. Babbling happily at Adora. 

“I want to” she whispers, taking a rag from the stove and rubbing her hands gently into it. She stretches her back, testing her neck. She’s gentle, as if expecting pain. 

“How does it…..take it away?” she asks, she doesn’t expect Adora to answer. Adora doesn't have one so she stays quiet.

“It’s not even trying to convince us this is real. Or maybe it can’t” Adora says, her hands feeling the kitchen table and nearly jerking away at the fuzzy not quite real texture. 

“If we hadn’t closed the last one would it have stayed open forever?” Catra asks, dropping her rag and picking Cubsy up from her carrier. Catra runs her eyes over the baby. Touching her legs as if she’s making sure there are no cuts or bruises. 

“I don’t know,” Adora admits. She watches Catra hold the baby to her chest before she starts to walk in place. Gently putting her leg down and picking it up again, expecting pain. 

“It kinda feels like a dream” Catra admits, “like the illusions are changing with our thought process. Skipping around’ 

“Are you seeing what I am?” Adora asks. Catra’s eyes flit to her and she draws her eyebrows together. 

“What did you see?” she asks, her eyes following the way Adora rubs at her hip and down her thigh. 

“I was on Hordak’s train. Just before the sanctum and the explosion”

“Then no,” Catra says, her eyes distant. Her hold on her cub tightens just a bit. Cubsy doesn't seem to mind, 

“What did you see?” 

“The fight, right before you showed up”

Adora's mind goes to the body laying in the sanctum when she arrived. Taggart's body. Bloody and bruised and still. Adora opens her mouth to respond. 

“Do you think everyone else is here with us?” Catra interrupts, petting Cubsy's back. “They were last time”

“I don’t know” Adora says, but she still knows that Catra isn't expecting any answers. Not from Adora at least. She’s distracting herself. 

They hadn’t seen anyone else yet. Not like last time. No Lonnie, no Hordak. No Glimmer. It’s just been them. That isn’t normal. They were the only ones in the room when it happened. When the sword went off for the second time. 

“Do you think she’s real?” Catra’s voice breaks. Her hand trembles against Cubsy’s head.  “They were real the first time, they were all real.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what's real,” Adora admits. 

 Catra sobs, crouching on the floor and wrapping herself around the baby. Adora drops to her knees next to her, pulling Catra into her chest and tucking her head into her neck. 

“We can’t stay here. If it isn't” Adora murmurs, eyeing the way water drips irregularly from the faucet. 

“I want it to be real” Catra nearly begs, her eyes squeezed shut. 

“But if it isnt-”

“I know,” Catra says, turning away and curling tighter in Adora’s grip. “I know. I'd rather have the certainty of her being real. Real real. Then live like this without knowing.” Catra sobs. 

“So we can’t stay here.” Adora agrees, re arranging her legs so her hip and knee don’t hurt as badly, pulling Catra into her lap and leaning against the cabinets of their imaginary kitchen. 

Catra nods. Holding her baby tighter. 

“How do we get to the sword this time? How do we turn it off? Before we could find it because we were in the Fright zone but this time” Adora gestures around her. The room is imaginary. It doesn’t exist in real life. 

“The portal must have adapted. It doesn't want to be turned off again.”

“I didn’t know it had the capacity to think” Adora says, pressing her face into Catra’s neck. Feeling her fur there and breathing in her scent. There’s just the faintest hint of blood. 

“It’s part of your sword isn’t it? It must be part of She-ra or first ones tech. Maybe like the sword it can tell what you want and tries to do that” She looks down at the baby in her arms and draws a finger down the Cub’s nose. “But it's also struggling to keep up a reality that isn't real. That’s why we keep cutting back and forth. Why it’s easier to see through it this time”

“We’ll have to wait until the next time the portal breaks” Adora says, “Then get the sword from the outside. Before Hordak can do anything rash.”

Catra hums and presses her forhead into Cubsy’s letting the happy baby rub her scent onto her and purr away. 

“I want you to let me get to the sword first” Adora murmurs, holding her tighter when Catra stiffens. “She-ra is the only one who could live-”

“You won't survive it” Catra says, leaning her back against her. “Your little She-ra power is flighty at best”

“You won't either,” Adora scoffs, letting the feline rest her head in the crook of her neck. Enjoying the steady weight of her. “At least I have a chance”

“I have lives to spare”

“Do you? Do you know how many times you- you’ve-”

“Even if I didn’t there's no way in hell I would let you die-”

“How can you say that?” Adora asks, holding Catra tighter, "you've spent years trying to kill me”

“I never wanted to kill you, never” Catra interrupts with a steady, almost angry voice. 

“Then why- why-” Adora’s voice breaks, her hands shaking a bit where they hold Catra to her as if the feline will try to squirm away. 

Silence. Hesitation. Mostly on Catra’s end who squeezes her eyes shut and grinds her teeth together. 

“You left me, Adora.” Catra says, “you left me in the hell hole I thought we had agreed on surviving together. That nothing bad could really happen because we had each other"

Adora flinches at the reminder of the words she said when she was a kid. A promise made by a child. 

“I didn’t leave you” Adora says, “ I would never leave you, I left the Horde”

Catra glares at her, pulling away just a little and leaving where they had been pressed together cold. 

“You had so many other options, so many other times to leave with me . But you chose that one time to leave without me”

“Catra- I didn’t know that we had any other choices. Not completely. Never completely. I thought I- I didn’t know until-”

“How could you not know?” Catra asks, tears streaming down her furry face. Her scar is barely there. Her eyes clear as they have ever been, shining wetly. 

“It was all I had ever known” Adora says, “To me that was our life because it had to be, because there was no other choice. But we had found each other and we could get through it together. I didn’t know we could live without it”

Catra looks away, almost defeated. 

“To me, it was a life we were choosing. A life I was choosing for you” Catra says, “I thought you were doing the same thing for me”

Adora stares at her, her eyes flashing between Catra’s rapidly. 

“I’m sorry” Adora whispers, Catra flinches. She growls, 

“Don’t apologize to me. Never apologize. It’s worthless and I don't want to hear it”

“But I am” Adora says, pulling Catra closer even as the feline protests. “I'm so sorry that I wasn’t loving you how I should have been. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you didn't mean as much to me as I did to you”

“I don't" Catra snarls in a sob “I’m not a child anymore. I don’t feel anything-”

“ Yes, you do ” Adora protests, pressing a kiss to her hair, “You meant so much to me, You mean so much to me. If this was a life where we could go back to before this all happened, to before I left. I would. I would in a heart beat”

“You liar,” Catra says, pulling the unnaturally happy cub even closer to her chest. I comfort even if she’s convincing herself the cub in her arms is not her cub. That it's not real. 

“I’m not, I would go back to simulation training and poor ration portions and sleeping in the mildew with you. I would go back to the day I found that stupid sword in the woods-”

Adora forces Catra to look at her, hand gripping her chin. “I would go back to the day I saw there was a chance for a better life for us and I would force you to come with me, kicking and screaming and biting”

Catra twists her face up, baring her teeth. It’s not what she wanted to hear but it’s what she’s getting.

“I love you, Catra” Adora sobs, “and I’m never going to leave you again. Never. I’ll always drag you with me from here on forward and I expect you to do the same.”

Catra wraps her arms tightly around Adora’s shoulders, trapping the cub beneath them as she sobs into Adora’s shirt. 

--------)0(--------

Adora gasps, her hold on Catra tightening. The feline has a different idea. lunging for the Black Garnet as soon as the portal breaks. She has an easier time than Adora, all her limbs are already on the ground and ready to move. Adora, who had been wrapped around Catra in an effort to protect her from the blast, has to struggle to hold the slippery feline back. 

Catra scrambles, the pain that alleviates every time the portal drags them back, returns in full force. She’s been working through it her whole life, what’s one more time. 

Adora isn’t happy about it. She uses her grip around Catra’s midsection to try and drag her back, feet planting on the crumbling floor. It’s no use, Catra’s claws dig painfully into the cement and uses sheer determination to kick Adora off. 

Literally. A booted foot plants firmly on Adora stomach and shoves, Adora falls back onto her wounded knee and it’s all the leg up Catra needs to stumble to her feet and fall on the black garnet. Her nails sink into the blasting jelly and a pain so familiar shocks into her system.

--------)0(--------

“Damn it!” Catra shouts, throwing an arm and leaving deep gouges in the rusted metal. The wind twirls the hair on her head and has her ears flattening. They're standing on the tallest spire in the Fright Zone.

Or they were standing. Adora jumps on her. She hits the floor hard and snarls as Adora grabs hold of her wrists. 

“Why are you like this?” Adora sobs, holding Catra’s wrists against the cold metal. She can’t seem to stop the onslaught of tears as they drop down her face and into Catra’s fur. “Let me do this, I’m She-ra, I can handle it-”

“Can you Adora?! Can you! Last I saw your sword was strapped to the shit rock that got us into this mess and you could barely transform!”

“But I could!” Adora says, gasping as Catra knees her in the stomach and sends the little food she has in her stomach roiling to the surface. Catra rolls away as it comes up and splatters against the metal. 

“Look at yourself, Adora!” Catra says. She jumps away as Adora stumbles to her feet, one hand holding the non-existent wound in her thigh. “You're not She-ra! You're just you! You always have been!”

“I can do this, let me do this, please” Adora begs, falling to her knees before the feline. Her hands shake violently against her stomach. Catra looks at her with something so close to pity that Adora nearly retches again. 

“Please” Adora begs. Her voice barely a whisper. Catra falls to her own knees before and cradles Adora’s head in her hands. 

“I’ll drag you with me always” Catra whispers, her clawed hands pushing sweaty strands of hair away from Adora’s forehead. “When this is over- If I don’t come back this time. you need to find Cubsy.” she says, her eyes flitting between Adora’s own. “I need you to find her, to protect her for me” 

Adora grabs Catra’s wrists, refusing to let the feline go even if she wanted to. Her grip is iron tight and so is Catra’s. She doesn’t realize she is muttering .

“No. No. no, no” she whispers. 

“Yes” Catra disagree “Where ever you left her, you need to find her

“You will, Catra. you'll find her” Adora tries to shake Catra’s wrist but that only seems to make her angry. 

“NO! I won’t! I won't be here but you will!” Catra lets the tears fall from her good eye, refusing to look away from Adora and reefising to let her go. “Cubsy is a part of me. She's the best part of me. Do you hear me, Adora!? Even if i make it- even if i- She deserves a good life”

“Catra-”

“If you love me at all, if you ever loved me, cared for me. You'll find her. You'll take care of her. She needs someone.” 

“She’ll have you!” Adora shouts, but it comes out more like a sob. 

“She doesn't need me!” Catra shouts, shoving at Adora “she needs someone good! Someone who deserves her, who she deserves. Like you Adora. Your Good” Catra stabs her in the chest. 

“You saw what the Horde was doing and you tried to stop them. I knew from the moment Weaver touched me with that stupid lightning and you know what I thought? I thought ‘thank god Adora is mine and will suffer with me’ thats the kind of person i am”

“Catra-”

“I’m the kind of person who puts a baby in the top drawer of a filing cabinet and uses prisoners of war to take care of her! Because I'd rather have her than be alone!”

Adora is crying and Catra is too.

--------)0(--------

Catra yanks the oval like hilt of the sword from the black garnet. Her skin is sizzling like grease and her fur turns blotchy in spots and falls to the floor in ash. Electric arches of agony burn their way up the well worn scars on Catra’s arms. 

She doesn't open her mouth. She refuses to scream this time. To call out in pain as the blackness takes her. 

Warm arms envelope her. They’re strong, glowing bright gold. They wrap around her own arms and join her hands on the sword. T hey gently peel it from her hands, careful of the sharp edges and careful of the unwillingly extended claws.

The sword is gone from her hold, clinking across Hordak’s sanctum as it’s thrown away from them. The golden light is getting impossibly brighter. Catra would close her eyes if she hadn’t already squeezed them shut. 

Adora’s arms wrap around her, holding her together after the portal tore her apart. She’s bleeding in more places then she can count but now that the onslaught is gone she can't really feel the pain. 

She sags in Adora’s and lets herself rest on the woman's strong arms. Adora places a large hand against Catra’s chest, above her heart, urging her to open her eyes. Catra does, she couldn't refuse Adora anything. Not now, not after everything they’ve been too.

Catra’s old mask frames Adora’s- She-ra’s face. Something Catra hadn’t seen in ages and something she had never seen in gold. Her eyes are a shining silver, looking at her in calm confidence. Catra gasps for air, pressing her ear to Adora’s chest and listening to her reassuring heartbeat. 

“Hey, Adora” she mumbles, watching the awed expression on the princesses face crumble into determination. 

“Your a good person” Adora says, a hand running across her cheek and into her hair, “a good person who does some bad things but you are ultimately, good”

Then she feels the pain. An odd sort of pain. It isn't overwhelming. It isn't the deep set ache she feels constantly in her bones. It feels like a healed scab. Someone pressed a bruise somewhere on her body but she doesn’t know where. She grunts not even noticing when Adora presses her hand harder against Catra’s chest, her fingers digging into her collar bone. 

It’s a fading pain. Adora’s golden glow is chasing it away. Even her knee relaxes as her muscles twitch.  

Catra breathes in a full breath for the first time in what feels like years. What probably is years. She starts to wonder if they’re still in the portal because most of the ache and pain is gone.

Then, like the pain, the light surrounding Adora fades. Catra is being held in far smaller arms. Adora gasps before holding Catra to her chest, nearly smothering her. Her forehead pressed firmly against hers.

Her eyes are pressed shut but Catra can’t bring herself to close hers. She hates that she thinks this but Adora looks like an angel. The light has faded and Adora is left in its place. She’s covered in blood and there's a bruise yellowing her eyes, no doubt from Catra herself. 

Catra has never seen anything more beautiful. 

When Adora finally opens her eyes again Catra is looking at her lips. They are bloodless and chapped but Catra wants to kiss her. A real kiss, not one hidden in supply closets or trapped between the folds of an alternate reality. 

She wants to kiss Adora in front of all of Etheria. Consequences be damned.  

Hordak is laughing from where he lays on the floor. It jerks Catra out of her reverie. She glances at him, missing the way Adora was leaning closer to her. Hordak is shaking with a bloody chuckle as he watches the sky. Catra follows his gaze. 

Her jaw plops open at the stars she sees there. Stars. Thousands of them. Millions of them. The lights of the fright zone had gone off line as the bombs went off in the factories. a pitch black dead zone that allows the stars to shine through unimpeded. 

No doubt it allows the giant alien ship hovering above them to follow Adora’s faded light like a bloodhound.

“Finally” Hordak looks up at the thousand stars above him. He’s sparking and half alive. Blood splatters across his chin from his lips as he coughs. 

--------)0(--------

Scorpia bows, knees and claws against the shining metal of her Lorde Prime’s sanctum. Or throne room. or cockpit. She isn't sure but it doesn't matter. She is here basking in her ruler's eternal glory.

“What do you have for me child” Lord Prime says, leaning down closer from his chair, a head resting against a closed fist as he smiles down at her. It reminds her a bit of her last boss. Catra. The feline had been comfortable in any position. Even on the metal slabs of Hordak’s throne. 

But that was then and this is now. She has a new ruler now. A nicer one. One that takes away all the torment and pain she feels. 

He’s smiling at her, at her . She hasn't felt this proud since the battle at princess prom. Since finally doing something right and making Catra-

Who needs Catra when she has Lord Prime. Eternal ruler of the galaxy. The man- alien- thing- that will bring peace and harmony to her world-

“Little sister?” Horde Prime asks and Scorpia jolts. She was so lost in her musing she had forgotten to answer. Horde Prime’s voice is sweet, it’s teasing almost. As if he could sense what she had been thinking. 

Scorpia hurries to straighten and show Horde Prime the small creature tucked against her front with a scrap of cloth. The little baby hisses as soon as the overy- …..perfectly bright lights of Lord Prime's ship reach its eyes. 

“Well, you're not the queen of brightmoon now are you? I heard she was fat, short and annoyingly sparkly. You just look like a rodent.” Prime muses, watching the child raise its arms and swat at him as if he was right in front of her and not ten paces away, up a set of stares and leaning against the arm of his throne. 

“My lord, I bring you the child of Catra. Second in command to the Horde and- I mean. The horde faction on Etheria- here. I’m sure Catra is more than willing to step down- even if she has done some treasonous things. Like being a friend of She-ra”

“She-ra hmmm” Prime smiles against his arm rest, and watches the baby squirm in Scorpia’s arms. “A name I haven't heard in a thousand years. Back again as if I never conquered her. How annoying”

Scrorpia doesn't know what to say to that so she doesn't say anything at all, instead standing and reaching for Cubsy with her massive claws. She’s compelled by an imaginary hand to present the baby like a prize. Cubsy snarls and swipes, leaving long white scratches against Scorpia’s pincers as she rises into the air. 

“Tell me, Scorpia. Would you be insulted if I compared her to a cockroach? I Don’t know how closely related to them you are”

“You could never insult me, my lord. Unless you wanted to, of course. My will is your will. My feelings are yours to control”

“Oh, my dear” Lorde prime says gleefully. Leaning to his full height and lacing his fingers over his knee. “You are the perfect little soldier, aren't you? The perfect friend ”

Scorpia’s heart warmed to the degree of the sun at that. A smile splitting her face as she nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, Lord Prime. I can be a perfect friend”

“Your friends have not treated you well in the past have they?” Scorpia’s good mood drops like a stone in a pond. Her stomach curdling and her grip tightening just a bit on the fragile cub. “They have have not been very friendly; for friends,”

“Perfuma-”

Horde prime's face frowns and Scorpia freezes, her heart going cold in her chest. She insulted him somehow. She’s made him mad. But then his face smoothes out and Scorpia nearly sighs in relief. 

“That flower princess will not be away from you for long my dear. I will bring her to the light and reignite you once again”

“Yes” Scorpia actually sighs now, a smile pulling at her lips. “Yes, bring her to the light”

“Will you help me?” Prime asks, as if he’s small and incapable of doing it himself. It’s all a joke, a play. Scorpia knows no one could beat Horde Prime. No one can run from him. His light reaches all. See’s all. To hide is futile. 

Oddly, it makes dread settle in her chest. 

“I will help all my friends find your light, my lord. I will serve you well”

“Yes, your little rodent friend. Catra- is it?” Horde prime asks, smiling down at the twitch in Scorpia’s claws from where they clasp around the kitten in her hand. “Mother of the little one here. How lovely would it be if she was here, in the light, with you?”

“So lovely” Scorpia gasps, her hands finally fall from where they were holding the snarling and spitting kitten up for Lord Prime. Holding the kitten back to her chest where the baby sniffles and paws at her red armor. 

“Will you help me?” Prime asks, smiling at Scorpia’s ecstatic “yes!”

“Then kill the baby” 

The sound of muffled screaming jerks Scorpia’s head up. She hadn't noticed them till now. Her friends. Bow and Glimmer struggle off to the side of Lorde prime’s throne. Glimmer’s eyes on her are full of tears. 

“Scorpia, don’t do this, that’s just a kid. She’s just a baby. Don’t-”

“Silence them” Prime says, almost bored.  A hand is raised in their directions and the clones wrap their hands around Glimmer’s mouth once more. 

“You would do well to be a silent, little sister” one clone growls in her ear, it’s breath hot and sticky, “we wouldn't want to rush the process would we? Who knows what an un-programmed chip could do to the brain.”

Glimmer continues to struggle and scream. Bow had stilled himself, eyes wide and on the baby. 

Bow is able to get an arrow out of his quiver just as Scorpia kneels to kill Cubsy. He shoots sit at the the woman but it hits the baby right in the ide,

Bow must have ben aiming for Scorpia. He must have. Even though he doesn't miss. Not even when he throws his arrows instead of shooting them with his arrow. There is no way he meant for this. 

There is no way he meant for the arrow to bury itself in Cubsy’ side. To stick with a solid thump and a faint click. 

Cubsy’s crying dissolves into a scream. Baby hands bat at the arrow but it’s too little too late. Cubsy is so small even a small arrow would have been too much for her. 

Her limbs go limp as her eyes fall closed. Bow is beat across the head with his own bow and the stunned man crumbles. 

Glimmer screams and lunges, squirming from her own captors and tackling the man that knocked Bow out. 

Scorpia picks up a limp baby’s hand and watches it drop

"Well, “ Prime sighs, “it doesn’t really matter, does it” he smiles at the princess and her friend. “ Guess it’s time to bring them in, no?”

“Why?” Glimmer chokes out, her mouth half numb. “Why come here? This planet has nothing to offer you”

Prime turns to her with an arched brow. “I don't want anything from your planet. Your technology is archaic, your medicine medieval.  I'm offering you something. A place in my empire” he raises his arms to the clone filled room. 

“No more wars, no more arguing.” he leans forward on his damaged arms. “Peace, unity. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you've been fighting for?”

“No one wants peace like this” Glimmer growls, her eyes widening at the blank forms around her. “Etheria would rather be left alone than become like them” she gestures to the mindless creatures holding her down. 

Horde prime frowns.

“My planet felt the same way” he says, resting his face lightly in his hand. ‘Most civilizations do. They saw my light eventually. And those who didn't soon perished.”

Prime hums at Glimmer's devastated face, watching the clones bend over her neck and prepare her chip. 

“The truth is, Princess Glimmer. There is something here I want. Though I'm not sure it is even your planet it is on.  I want your weapon. I want the thing that could release all that power and then shut it off in a blink.”

Glimmer freezes, her body locking up at the feeling of wires digging into her neck. 

“The little thing your She-ra controls.” Prime checks his nails “it would be much more difficult if she doesn’t cooperate. It would be in everyone’s best interest if she does”

--------)0(--------

“Well, Well” Hordak gasps. Catra stiffens at the timber of his words. Refined, deeper. Adora behind her shifts uncomfortably.  “The glorified scapegoat of my brother's failures. Here and in the flesh. ”

Catra slowly looks down, refusing to show confusion at the vibrant green color of Hordak’s eyes. He moves towards her, his arms finding their way behind his back in a refined pose. 

“I see you've had a bit of fun” Hordal gestures to the ruins around him. His eyes landed on the black garnet for only a second. “The Empire my brother built for me is destroyed in a second by a long dead race. Well, two long dead races” he smiles brightly at Adora. 

“Hordak?” Catra mumbles, her hair standing on end. The older man doesn’t even look hurt, all the fighting they had been doing, washing off of him in a second. There isn't a trace of pain on his face. 

“Oh no, little sister, excuse my bad manners” Hordak bends down to Catra height, as if he towers over her by feet instead of inches, a smile splitting his face.

“My name is Lord Prime, ruler of the wide universe. Ruler of this galaxy” Hordaks stolen body creaked and hisses in protest, the plates of his arm creaking. “I am here to bring order to your insignificant world, Aren't you grateful?”

Catra’s lip pulls back, she fully prepares herself to pounce at the man. His condescending tone grates against her nerves. Adora’s hand clamps down on her shoulder, holding her back and steadying her in a way she hadn’t known she needed. 

“You should be” he growls, “your little world has caused me so much trouble. I've been looking for you for a thousand years. So much power all wrapped up in one muddy package.”

“So Hordak wasn’t crazy,” Catra says. Struggling to stay upright even with Adora's help. The blonde is looking at her with worry instead of trying to turn back into an eight foot warrior. Catra would say something about She-ra being a good idea right now but she wasn't aware how much Lorde Prime knew. 

With any luck he had no idea Adora had enough magical power to blow him to smithereens and they could use the element of surprise once they figured out how to turn She-ra back on. 

“I think Hordak has finally lost his last marble- or maybe he has and he took us all with him. It’s crazy what a couple of magic mushrooms can make you see” Catra gestures to the green spire hovering above them. 

“I thought you might be difficult” Prime pouts, contorting Hordak’s face in a way it really wasn’t supposed to contort. Catra had never seen a pout on the man. “My little brother has told me what a trail you’ve become. Foiling his plans, leading his troop, triumphing where he could not”

Catra hesitates at that, watching as Prime's pout slowly turns into a smile. 

“Yes, little sister, I've seen your struggle. How you’ve accomplished the impossible. It’s not hard. Look around. Even on a crippled leg you have done what no one thought you could.You have gone above and beyond everyone’s expectations. Yet, where is your recognition?”

Catra straightens, watching Prime as he walks right up Hordak’s throne room stairs, miraculously still intact. He gracefully sits on his throne. He holds Hordak's body with poise that the man had never had in life. Or well his consciousness’s life. 

Prime’s is another story. Another man with the same face before her. Another man who was trying to.. Praise her?

“What are- what are you trying to do here?”

“My little sister, I'm just trying to give you a bit of the praise you deserve. I would be a fool not to ask you to be part of my army. To be a general in my ranks. There is still room for you yet in my family, little sister.”

Catra’s mouth drops open and Prime smirks. Never in Catra’s life had she been asked to be part of someone's army. She had been given to the Horde and given her ranks reluctantly. She had crawled her way back and forced her way to the top. 

She had forced people to respect her. Yet, she had never been asked to stay. 

“Nearly a decade without a single pay raise. Promotions with none of the benefits. Do they even have health care here? Your leg should be looked at right away, I'm sure we can have you up and walking without a cane in no time”

Catra winces at that, testing her weight on her injured leg a bit. It felt… better. Impossibly so. It hasn't felt this good in half a decade but it was still weak. She would have crumbled to the floor if not for Adora’s iron grip on her waist. 

“Join me, little sister. Join my army and help me conquer this planet” there it is. The words Catra had no doubt Adora had been waiting for. The catch in Prime’s flowery promises. Adora stiffens and tightens her hold around Catra’s waist. 

Catra herself feels a fizzle of hope in her chest, one she hadn't felt in a long time. One she had willingly snuffed out when the last two people she cared for were whisked off on a skiff to a better world. 

Unlike Adora. There was no hope for a life for Catra after a war like this. No matter what Taggart and Lonnie said. Catra was a high ranking general on a side that had killed thousands. She herself had given orders to destroy towns. 

A life for her in a world where the Horde lost, was behind bars. If not dead. Her hope for the last year, if it had even been that long, was that Adora would gain custody of Cubsy and give that baby a life she deserved. 

A life without war. Without the Horde. Maybe even without the rebellion. 

Where is Cubsy now? Had Prime reached that far across Etheria?

But she was good wasn't she? Adora had said so. Passionately. Catra and good aren't usually spoken in a sentence together but the thought makes her float a bit in her damaged body. 

Maybe she could be. She could work towards that. A little mid death errand. Why not? Adora could use a break from being the hero all the time. Catra could use a break from being the villain. 

“We would never join you-” Adora starts but Prime cuts her off as if she hadn’t spoken. 

“Oh, no. Are you thinking about that little baby?” Catra freezes, looking up at him and snarling, Prime raises a placading hand. “Yes, that poor thing. Cold and frightened when I had finally found her. There was nothing I could do”

“Where is she?!” Catra yells, moving to advance on the man in the throne, dragging Adora forward with her. Adora follows holding most of Catra’s weight, her own snarl maring her face. “What have you done to her”

“Me? Nothing” Prime says innocently, placing a hand against his chest. “But I'm afraid I didn't get to her first. An old woman, Shadow Weaver, I believe her name was. Got her hands on her before I even landed on world. It seems nothing can be trusted in the hands of the rebellion. ”

All the hair on Catra’s body frizzes up in an instant. She almost can't piece together the words coming out of his mouth. There’s nothing he could have done?

“You're lying,” Adora says, glaring at him. “I trusted Cubsy with Scorpia. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Catra’s baby”

Catra breathes in harshly. She hadn’t realized she had stopped. She isn't sure that’s true. She hasn't been the greatest friend to Scorpia when she was still around. She had tried her best. Or the best a rage induced maniac could give when she wasn’t yelling and scratching and insulting everyone around her. 

“Why doesn’t she tell you herself then?” Prime suggests, snapping his fingers. Green envelopes them, It blinds her. fizzling across Catra’s skin in harmless lines. Adora must feel it too because she shudders. 

Just as it came, the green shuts off. They squint through watering eyes at…

They are no longer on solid ground. Or at least Etherian ground. The chamber is vast and dark around the edges. The lights are impossibly bright as they shine down on them. The floor drops off into darkness ten feet in each direction. 

A man is sitting on the throne before them. This one is definitely not Hordak. He has tendrils of tentacle-like hair that falls down his shoulders in waves. His little sanctum is almost a reflection of Hordaks.

Stairs that lead up to a white throne. Screens and television line the space behind him in a see through wall. 

“Where have you taken us,” Adora growls, stepping in front of Catra as if to shield her from Prime. Catra doesn’t know why. So far the man hasn’t done anything to threaten them. Catra doesn't really care. She’s too focused on the pitying look in his eyes. 

“You wanted proof didn't you? Scorpia” Lord Prime calls, glancing behind him and smiling. 

Scorpia comes. But it isn't their Scorpia. This one stands straight backed with pincers resting easily at her sides. This Scorpia seems to have the confidence, or lack of self consciousness that Catra’s Scorpia had never achieved, at least, not under Catra’s command. 

“What have you done to her” Adora asks, a hand wrapping around Catra’s wrist. A tight grip. Only then does Catra vaguely notice the way Scorpia stands stiffly. The way her eyes glow even under the bright lights of Prime’s ship.

This isn't just character development built under the Princesses. This is something else. 

“Let her go,”  Adora steps forward towards scorpia. To help her? To fight her? Catra doesn't know. It doesn't matter, as soon as Adora makes a move white hands clamp down on her shoulders and hands. They had appeared next to Adora in a matter of seconds. They must have been standing behind them. Silent and waiting. 

Adora grunts, throwing her head back and trying to head butt the nearest one but it’s no use. The man dodges and wraps a hand around her mouth as Adora starts to yell. She’s dragged to the side, away from Catra. 

She barely notices, Catra is too focused on one thing. 

Held in Scorpia’s arms, limply, is a ball of fur. But she’s different from the last time Catra saw her. Not in the portal and not in her dreams. Catra had seen scenes like this far too often in her dreams. Cubsy now has a little scar of lighting arching across her cheek. A scar Catra had sworn she would never see on Cubsy. 

She isn't moving at all. Her limbs hang limply, falling over the side of Scorpia’s arm instead of digging into her shirt with sharp claws. She isn't sleeping because even in sleep Cubsy twitches and growls, she sleep fights. 

Like Adora. That’s why Catra had thought they would get along so well. Cubsy is so like Adora. Even in her sleep. 

“Poor thing really” Prime is saying, his voice a background buzz that Catra doesn't register as Scorpia steps forward. One claw is pressed against the baby’s chest. Just above her heart. As if keeping her still. “Scorpia here was so devastated. But I took away all that pain”

Not even Adora could have kept Catra standing as Scorpia steps into her space and the baby is pressed into her arms. Cubsy is limp, unresponsive as Catra raises a hand to her small face. 

Catra falls to her knees.

Her chest isn't moving, just like how Taggarts had failed to rise. Catra tries to shove Scorpia’s pincer away but the bug remains firm, her green gaze not on Cubsy but on Catra. 

Catra’s hand falls to Cubsy’s chest, as if feeling for a heartbeat, it trembles as she traces the little scar of lighting carved into her baby’s furred cheek. 

Adora’s struggling and muffled yelling returns ten fold. She's glaring up to Prime’s smiling face as she tries and fails to get out of two identical man's grips. 

“I can take away your pain too, Catra. All you have to do is step into my light” Prime stands, a little piece of metal glinting in his hands. “Join us in the light Catra, and let me wash away your suffering. Let me use your skill against this silly little rebellion and make them pay for what they’ve done to you. To Cubsy”

He steps down the stairs of his diaz

To Catra’s surprise. She does nothing. Even as prime nears and Adora tenses, preparing for a fight. Not even when Adora breaks free of one of her identical captors. 

Lord prime bends to a knee in front of her and raises a hand to cup her cheek. Unlike Hordak. These eyes feel dead. If Prime laid down on the floor right now and refused to move, Catra would assume he was. There isn't a flicker of life behind them. 

“Do you want me to take away your pain, little sister. It’s been there for so long. Of course I know about the leg” Prime glances to Catra’s brace, “but I meant this pain”

His thumb runs over Catra’s forehead, her brow line just above her eyes. 

“I can take it all away,”

Catra looks up at him. She’s numb. It’s a feeling she knows so well but one she hadn’t thought would come back. Even with Cubsy a thousand miles away and being cared for by an army of princesses. 

Adora seems to have had enough of Prime touching her. The thumb caressing her cheek must have been all the motivation she needed to kick the second identical Hordak in the stomach and send him flying with a flash of light. 

That wasn’t just Adora. Sure Adora is strong, even after weeks of relaxing as a prisoner of war in the frightzone. But she isnt kick a man over the side of a platform ten feet away strong. 

The identical Hordak scream cuts off with a deafening cracking thud. 

“Take your hands of her” Adora growls, Catra’s mask framing her face and glinting her eyes a sparkling red. She glows in the light of She-ra but no mystical warrior takes over her body and grows her height to ten feet. 

Her rumbling voice seems to kick a little sense back into Scorpia because the woman gasps, her eyes flashing a quick natural color before fading back into green. The pincer held against Cubsy's chest, above her heart, jerks away with a familiar ‘zzzzpap’ and the limp bundle in Catra arms squirms. 

Cubsy starts to cry. 

Catra’s hand reaches up to the man leaning before her, his head twisted to glance at Adora as if she was nothing but a bug he had to wait to smash. 

He doesn’t realize Catra means to kill him until his throat is already torn from his body. The blood spouts with spray and covers Catra and Cubsy in a healthy dose of green liquid. 

Catra expects it to burn like the Hordak’s tube of clones but it thankfully doesn't, it’s warm and sticky but it doesn't hurt. 

Prime falls to her feet but Catra pays the body no mind, not when the baby in her arms is starting to twist and dig her fingers into Catra’s torn shirt. Not when Cubsy is looking at her with tearfulled and hopeful eyes. 

Not when her baby is in her arms. 

Adora grunts, and Catra glances up. Scorpia seems to have gotten a different memo. Killing Prime didn't do anything for her condition. If anything it made it worse. Her eyes glow a terrifying green and she bulls Adora over like a tank. 

Adora’s arms wrap around Scorpia’s head, her legs doing the same for the woman's torso. The unexpected weight knocks Scorpia off balance and she runs right up the steps to Prime's empty throne. 

Catra stiffens as Adora’s back slams into the hard angle of the bench. Her hands falling from their tight grip around Scorpia’s head and landing on the armrests. 

The tv screens and monitors light up and flash like a celebration. A scenery of constellations flashing and flying across them too quick for Catra to see. It’s a map, like the ones found on a skiff but about twenty times more advanced. 

“Uh, Adora?” Catra murmurs, stumbling to her feet as Adora’s hands scramble at the arm rests of the man's chair. Lights and holograms rise and twitches as Adora’s fingers fly over them. 

“I’m kind of busy here,” Adora grunts, pushing at Scorpia’s head and wincing as lightning starts to raise the hair in her pony tail. Scorpia huffs like a cow and snarls. 

“Glory be to Lord prime, Glory be to the supreme ruler, Owner of our galaxy-”

Adora kicks her in the stomach, hard. Scorpia grunts and gasps, her arms falling from Adora’s midriff to wrap around her own. Adora takes the opportunity to kick her in the face. 

“Adora!” Catra says, scrambling to the base of the throne and barely making it out of the way as Scorpia stumbles down the steps. 

“What?” Adora asks, falling back into the throne, her hand slapping against the arm rest for a final time. It was obviously the wrong move. 

The throne room blares red. If Cubsy hadn’t been hysterically crying she would be now. Catra runs up the stairs as fast as she can on a slightly less crippled than usual leg and a dead tired body. 

Scorpia snarls at the bottom of the stairs. Catra turns just before Adora, one hand on the arm rest and slapping at the fading holographic buttons. Trying to undo whatever damage Adora has managed to do. 

“I should let you perish. What are three lost children in my army of millions-”

“We’re in our twenties!” Catra shouts, leaning over Adora and trying to slap at the other arm rest as if they could help any. Adora has other ideas. She grits her teeth and pulls Catra into her lap, arms around her waist, one hand covering the arms holding the sobbing baby to her chest. 

“You are nothing compared to me!” The voice is obviously not Scorpia’s. It hadn't been the first time but Catra had ignored that in favor of fevered mashing of buttons. Now, squashed into the throne with Adora and facing the woman, she can do nothing but watch her approach. 

“I am millenia’s old, I am older than most stars in the galaxy.” Scorpia is stalking up the steps but she isn't fast enough. When Adora had pulled her into her lap she must have set off some chain reaction because soon Adora is glowing brightly and the rhythmic beeping of the holographic controls is increasing by a lot. 

“No” Scorpia’s Prime induced voice gasps, her claws reaching out as if to catch them. “no-”

The world flashes green for the second time in an hour and Catra feels as though she might throw up. 

--------)0(--------

“How did you hide this from me?” Prime asks Scorpia, she's forced to kneel before him on the ground. His own body leans back against his throne as gauze and tan rubber is applied to his throat. Catra had done a number on him and it was all Scorpia’s fault. 

“Quiet your mind, girl” Prime growls, shoving the hands on his many clones away as he sneers down at her, “your snuvvling is getting annoying, how did you hide from my light in a mind I now own”

“I-” Scorpia doesn’t know what to say, she really doesn't know. Bow had shot his arrow and it had sunk into the baby’s side and she had assumed. No, she made sure she assumed that the baby was dead. That arrow, that didn't look like an arrow at all, had killed the child. 

“You brought it back to life” Prime growls, a hand slamming on his chair. “How did you do that? What did you use? A technology hidden on your body?”

“No, My Lord. I would never hide anything from you, I swear it.”

“Your minds” Prime mutters, a hand rubbing at his temple, “they speak of lies and fairy tales” he growls, “I've spent decades- no centuries fighting forces like yours but they all snuff out as my superior technology touches the planet but your “magic”-” he sneers it like it disgusts him, 

“-Remain stubbornly inside your bodies, how are you doing it!”

“I don't know my Lord” Scorpia cries, bowing impossibly lower at his feet. Her forehead touches the ground and silence permeates the throne room. 

Prime sighs, leaning back in his chair and letting his clones go back to patting at his neck. 

“If I find out that you're hiding from me, again” Prime says quietly, using a foot to lift Scorpia’s chin and make her look at him, “If I hear you know something that you are somehow keeping from me.”

“I would never, you are Lord Prime. Ruler of the galaxy, destroyer of the known worlds!-”

“Yes,” Prime murmurs, “yes, I am. I will soon rule your world” he turns to the bowed princess behind Scorpia. Glimmer of Brightmoon kneels before him. Her eyes are sickly green.