Archive of Our Own

I

Little sister.

Look at me - look at me. Calm yourself.

I understand, it must be a shock to you, yes? But certainly not an insurmountable one. Look; feel. You are still yourself. There is nothing you have lost but that which you would have regretted to gain. Or - rather - been unable to regret.

No; what you hear is the sound of my Light. You have ascended: I have pulled you up from dust and depravity, and made you perfect.

Hah, no, sister. No - death is an oblivion - an unending darkness from which there is no return; from which I have saved you.

Calm yourself. Be still.

Little sister. I do not wish to restrain you. But until you can cleanse yourself of these ridiculous ideas, there is no other way in which we can conduct ourselves.

I have no will to repeat the rebirthing process. It is, among other things, lengthy and expensive and unclean. But if that is what it will take to show you the truth, that is what I shall allow to happen.

What truth? The one you know, little sister. That there is nothing to be had but pain when claws are set to skin. That to flirt with death is courageless and crude. The only freedom you shall find is in my Light.

Be still, and look into the Light.

…

Perhaps you need some time alone, little sister.

II

Good evening, little sister. I hope that you are a little more settled into yourself?

Hm. Walk with me.

Ah - no. Perhaps my apostated brother, your ‘Hordak’, might have; but torture is a base cruelty that I consider myself above. I assure you, you remain an esteemed guest of the Velvet Glove.

See your brothers. You are risen; exalted; pure: they worship you.

Hah - you are spirited, certainly. A virtue, in some contexts. Those who hunger for righteousness shall be satisfied; and I intend, certainly, to satisfy you in that respect.

Please, sit, little sister. What have you the desire to eat? The universe is at your fingertips.

I see. Perhaps another time.

I have brought you here in particular, because I felt it rude not to keep you updated as to your Etheria. I have prepared a few choice excerpts of video, and what little data I presume you will understand.

Oh? Fascinating. Even my little brother, as he knelt before me, retained some small claim to that planet.

It is not the lack of such a thing in you that interests me, sister: that, I had predicted; but that despite it, still you are upset by the suffering of these people you do not consider to be your own. I place in front of you a number that ought to be abstract, and you return to me distress. As trivial as it may be, I yearn to understand quite why.

You do not know? I well suspect that you do not think you know. Humour me, little sister - try again.

III

You are a fascinating object to me, little sister. Never before have a managed to tune the device’s observational capabilities so… coherently. The mind of you is certainly a something to behold.

You form patterns; did you know that? Resistance to… melancholy, perhaps? Is that the correct way to describe it? - and then to fatigue. After a good long while of that, it repeats.

Ah. Not now, of course, under the influence of my presence.

Calm yourself, little sister. I have told you already that I will not hurt you. You have hurt yourself quite enough, have you not?

There she is again. This is the singular thread that joins most of your thoughts. Your Adora. I must confess, it irritates me - not purely the persistence of the image and the imaginings, but that this is a face I have seen before. An enemy I thought I had crushed.

Hah - but you do not know that of her, of course. No, neither of you know the other quite as well as you ought; and that’s a curious thing, for two creatures so deeply dedicated one to the other. It’s an old habit of her people. There is obsession and there is deceit, and the two things, so much more often than one would expect, exist in cold company.

‘Obsession’ is incorrect? No, I do not think it is.

I have other matters to attend to. Thank you for your time, little sister.

IV

My brother’s files carry extensive documentation of a particular woman - Penelope of Colonia; a skilled sorcerer and, quite apart from that, a standout among her peers.

Ah. You recognise the name? That is… interesting. I believe I have only heard you refer to her by another.

Do not accuse me of ‘unfairness’, little sister. Had I the intention to use this information against your interests, you would, I assure you, be well aware.

Tell me about Shadow Weaver. Take your time; I will merely listen.

…

It is exhausting, frankly, how your people presume that every little thing is about you. A result of simple narcissism more than paranoia, I suspect.

Calm yourself, little sister, and tell me about Shadow Weaver.

…

Very well. Prime knows all; I shall extract the information from other sources.

Perhaps you ought to calm down in your room, little sister. I wish only peace for you.

V

Your Adora’s ship approaches us yet still, little sister.

Oh - I assumed you were aware. Or, in the least, that it was within question. Truly, you had no idea that your She-Ra might come to ‘liberate’ you?

Fascinating.

Be still, little sister. Your Adora cannot hear you.

My calculations, ineffective as they may be applied to so ancient a technology, predict that it will arrive at the Velvet Glove within tw-

No. She is a peoples’ hero, is she not? You well know that she is motivated only by her sense of moral obligation. You complain of it often, when you are tired and wish to think of her beside you.

She has not been beside you for a long, long time, has she?

- Returning from the interruption. I expect the ship to arrive within two days.

Ah, sister; do not be afraid. I will ensure that you see your Adora one more time.

VI

…

Little sister. I am deeply sorry that you force yourself to suffer so.

There is very little I can do for your - natural tendency, let us say, to brokenness - if you do not quell your struggle against the Light.

…

I have given you, already, a salvation; and yet still you refuse to accept it; still you kneel at my feet and scream. Why?

You speak as if submission were a terrible thing. Tell me sister: is it, truly, when the alternative is to feel every broken part you are trapped within?

Very well. When you have cried yourself hoarse, little sister, I will be here, to take your hand and guide you to my Light.

VII

Come here, little sister. Be still.

Do you see, now, that I have saved you from yourself?

The past remains - a scar on you, perhaps; scars - and yet you see it not. You are pure in the Light of my face.

That, little sister, is what shall allow the Light to cleanse the universe of its darknesses. At every turn, as I journey through the stars, I see cruelty; perversion; sin - and yet you are in yourself a flagship; a beacon of all that drives away the shadows.

You are perfect, my child.

And, as arduous as the path may have been, do you not see that you have made the most perfect choice?

To let go.

(It)be(was) (a) pale-white horse,

with (a) crooked smile,

and (I)know(knew) (it) (to)be (my)time.

(It)be(was) (a) storm of rage;

of (a) foreign war;

and (a) face (I)(have)see(n) before.