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“Shadow Weaver?”
Adora’s voice quivered. Her heart was pounding. Shadow Weaver. Shadow Weaver was here. In Bright Moon. Bright Moon was safe. Bright Moon was supposed to be safe!
Glimmer and Bow (even Queen Angella herself!) had told her numerous times that Bright Moon was safe! There were wards in place. Guards constantly patrolling the halls and outside perimeter and stationed at high risk; areas in the palace (there were two guards constantly stationed near her bedroom door). Shadow Weaver shouldn’t have been able to enter Bright Moon, let alone make her way into her room!
Adora found herself slowly backing away from Shadow Weaver. Her eyes were wide, her gaze glued onto her unconscious moth— mentor. Yeah. That’s what Shadow Weaver was. A mentor. Much like General Juliet.
Shadow Weaver had been her mentor back in the Horde. Her commanding officer. She hadn’t been her mom. (Even if she had done some of the mom stuff; as Glimmer had called it when she had broken down during her early days in the Rebellion, back when she felt Shadow Weaver’s presence and saw her shadow spies everywhere).
Adora continued to back away from Shadow Weaver. Her grip tightened, her knuckles turned white as she clutched her safety knife. Bow had asked her once if a pillow knife was really necessary; well, this; was why she hid a knife under her pillow! As a last resort!
Adora realized she could hear her own breathing. It was heavy. It was almost labored. Her heart still pounded.
Her chest hurt, she realized. She had felt this way before, the night before a big exercise or test in the Horde; whenever she would stand outside Shadow Weaver’s chambers; or sometimes when Queen Angella requested her presence. Bow had called it something. She couldn’t remember the name of it now.
Adora’s back brushed up against the door. She stopped, still watching Shadow Weaver. Her chest was rising and falling, the old witch was still breathing. She looked sickly. The magic around her was… It felt different. It felt more poisonous than usually, it seemed as if it was feeding on Shadow Weaver.
The heaviness of Adora’s breathing was all that filled the room. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Shadow Weaver. She needed to. She needed to turn around and sprint out of her room and grab the guards. There had been a security breach. Bright Moon needed to be aware and alert!
Why wouldn’t her legs work? Why couldn’t she break her gaze away from Shadow Weaver?
***
Terence Bloom sighed. His form slumped slightly, the butt of his lance dragged a little against the tiled floor. His brown eyes peered out of the visor he wore. He frowned, bored.
It was after midnight. It was calm. Peaceful. It was always<\i> peaceful. It was always calm. Terence Bloom was bored out of his freaking mind!
Night shift as a guard in the palace (as he had been warned by the old-timers) was not for the week. It was uneventful. The hours dragged on. The shifts felt endless. To make it even worse, he was tasked with standing guard outside of She-Ra’s room. Freaking She-Ra! Was there a more unless position in the palace?!
"Uh-heem…"
Terence Bloom startled and straightened up. He could feel someone staring at him. He glanced over in the direction of the sound. Positioned at the corner was Mira. Mira Sheen. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he registered her presence.
It must be past midnight then. Usually Mira— Sheen, he corrected himself, Sheen was never allowed anyone to use her first name for some strange reason… Usually Sheen (he couldn’t remember her title), came around just after midnight. She would stand at the corner of the hall for a bit, perhaps half an hour or so, and then move on to somewhere else.
Her presence meant that his shift was halfway over. Good. What a boring shift this had been.
A small, mischievous smile formed on his lips. He knew a way to get a rise out of her. The one phrase that would absolutely piss her off (and the other old timers who were doing guard duty nowadays).
“It sure is quiet,” he said suddenly, staring right at Mira.
She sighed audibly, her eyes narrowed. He could see it despite her green eyes being almost hidden behind the slit in her helm.
Before she could reprimand him (all the old timers did whenever one of the young guards used what they called the bad word, the door to She-Ra’s room swung open and someone (not She-Ra but her other, normal form) bolted out.
She spun around until she saw him. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.
“S-Shadow Weaver! R-room! A-asleep!” She blurted out. It was then that Terence Bloom noticed the knife she was gripping.
“Damn it, Bloom! This is why we don’t say that word!” Sheen screamed.
***
Another sleepless night. They weren’t rare. Restful nights were. It was a good thing she didn’t need sleep for survival.
Queen Angella stood before the mural as she always did when sleep eluded her. She stared up at it, her gaze lingering on the lone figure. For not the first time (and certainly not the last, she knew that for sure), she longed for a familiar touch. A presence she missed with every ounce of her being.
Micah.
He looked regal. He always did. Majestic and kind. His eyes were filled with a warm light. Even when he was worn out, sleep-deprived, and covered in spit-up (he had taken over so much of the responsibility with Glimmer in the early days), he was never short or frustrated.
Angella almost reached out. Her heart ached for him. It always did, it always would. She lifted her arm, her fingers stretching and reaching out towards Micah’s mural— “Queen Angella!” There was an echo of heavy, hurried footsteps.
The Queen dropped her arm and turned her head in the direction of the noise. A guard rounded the corner. They were panting. Their helmet was crooked, allowing her to see one of their eyes. It was wide. The guard’s face was pale and frightened.
“Shadow Weaver was found in She-Ra’s room!”
Angella spun around. Adora’s room? Shadow Weaver?
“She’s been apprehended. General Juliet and a few other soldiers are with her now.”
Angella nodded shakily. “And Adora?” She demanded. The guard stared at her, a look of confusion mixing in with the fear. It took Angella a moment to realize why the guard was confused.
“She-Ra,” she corrected herself, fighting the urge to sigh. She had told the soldiers and guards that She-Ra’s real name was Adora. Glimmer and Bow had corrected them numerous times, and so had she and Juliet. Now wasn’t the time to correct though.
“She-Ra— Adora,” the guard corrected himself, “is shaken up but okay.”
“And Glimmer?”
“She is okay as well! She’s in her room with Adora right now.”
Angella closed her eyes, relief washing over her. Good. Her girls were safe. Both<\i> of her girls were safe and sound. Angella opened her eyes. It was time to get to the bottom of this then.
**
“Double the perimeter." How had Shadow Weaver gotten in? "-and triple it at the Moonstone." Were they under attack? "No one sleeps until we figure out how Shadow Weaver got into the castle,” Queen Angella commanded.
“Yes, Ma’am!” replied the soldier, who immediately broke away from following her to report the orders.
Queen Angella was rushing, almost sprinting<\i> through the halls of Bright Moon, with Castaspella on her heels. She wasn’t taking a queenly pace at the moment, after all, a queen must never rush, a queen must walk at a dignified and respectable pace. Then again, she knew that she didn’t even look like a proper queen right now.
Her brow was furrowed. She would probably end up with permanent creases on her forehead. Queens shouldn’t have creases on their foreheads. Queens must always appear regal and calm. Even if their whole world and kingdom (and thus the lives of thousands) are threatened to fall.
If she panics, everyone panics, and if everyone panics… then, well… the war would be lost. will stand no chance against the Horde (or the Invasion, as was the threat during her Grandmother’s reign). The Princess Alliance will fall again. The Rebellion would be no more. Etheria as they know it would cease to exist.
Angella stopped.
“Why are we stopping here?” Castaspella demanded. Her sister-in-law was looking at her quizzically.
“This is where we’re holding the prisoner,” Angella replied, using what Glimmer had dubbed her queen voice. That wasn’t fair, was it? She and Casta used to be close. In a previous life, she never would have dreamed of using that<\i> when speaking to her. When had things between them gotten so stiff and formal? (Not to mention awkward and uncomfortable?).
“This is your prison?” Casta asked, raising an eyebrow in what Angella assumed was disbelief.
“Well, technically it’s the spare room, but it’s more than adequate as a holding cell,” Angella answered.
She hadn’t been given much of a choice in the matter. Bright Moon didn’t have a traditional prison cell. Prisoners weren’t brought here, and up until (very) recently, no one from the Horde had ever been able to reach the palace. There were numerous wards in place. Guards were stationed everywhere. The very (very!) few gaps in security had been addressed and fixed thanks to Adora.
The fact that Shadow Weaver (Shadow Weaver! Out of everyone who could<\i> have snuck into Bright Moon, she was the worst! The only other two who could have possibly been worse would have been Hordak himself and Catra) had managed to get past the wards, past the guards, past everyone and everything meant to protect Bright Moon… well, Bright Moon wasn’t ready for that.
Angella turned towards the door to the spare room— holding<\i>. The two guards stationed outside the door began to step aside for her when:
“This is the prison?”
Angella sighed and closed her eyes in frustration, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose; after all, that wouldn’t be a very ‘queenly’ thing to do…
“Yes, it’s the prison,” she replied, her voice coated in irritation. She opened her eyes and turned, her face softening when she saw Adora approaching, Glimmer and Bow close behind.
All of them were dressed for the day. She was slightly surprised, she had assumed that Glimmer would have coaxed Adora to go back to sleep. She had hoped that would have been the case. Apparently, it wasn’t and deep down, she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Adora was notorious for not resting, even after a rough mission.
Before Angella could ask any of them why they were here, Adora began to talk, “Your Majesty, I know Shadow Weaver.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Castaspella cringe. Angella felt a shiver run down her spine and a dull ache in her chest.
Adora continued, “I know her tricks.” Her words grew fast, her eyes pleading. “Please. I need to be there for the interrogation, I’m the only one who-“
Angella held up a hand, cutting her off. The only one? No. No, she wasn’t. Shadow Weaver had had a life before the Horde. She had hurt so many back when she was a part of Mystacore. Sure, Angella hadn’t been around Shadow Weaver like Adora had, but she knew. She knew who and what Shadow Weaver was. She had heard the stories from Micah. And Castaspella had seen Shadow Weaver and her ‘ways’ firsthand thanks to Micah. So no, Adora was not the only one. And for once, this was a burden that wouldn’t fall on Adora, Angella would make sure of that.
“Shadow Weaver is dangerous,” Angella warned, her voice firm and unwavering. She, Bright Moon, and the Rebellion, had relied on Adora so much. Her gaze met Adora’s eyes.
“I will not let that woman near you.” She held Adora’s gaze for a moment longer. Fear and worry still clouded her blue eyes. Angella’s gaze flickered onto Glimmer and Bow then, “Near any of you,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure if that was for them or for her. But it was a promise.
“You are to stay away from this room,” she commanded firmly.
She hoped that they would understand. She hoped that her kids would just listen to her for once. She wouldn't have to worry about Bow. She never did. Usually, she didn't worry about Adora. She was usually good about following orders but today, she couldn't shake a nagging feeling that something would go wrong. Glimmer was a risk. If she believed that being a part of the interrogation would help the Rebellion, she would try to be there. In her heart though, she knew the one she needed to worry most about right now was Adora.
After Bow, Adora was usually the most obedient. She followed orders like a soldier, only straying from them when she had to. This was different though. As much as Adora would deny it, Shadow Weaver was<\i> her mother in a way. Shadow Weaver had raised her since she was a baby. She had held Adora, taught her how to talk and tie her boots, much like Angella had done for Glimmer when she was young.
Shadow Weaver had raised Adora. She had messed with Adora. She had taught her that failure was unacceptable. That authority should be feared. That magic was bad.
Adora didn’t need to see Shadow Weaver. If Angella had it her way, Adora wouldn’t see Shadow Weaver ever again.
Without another word, Angella turned away from her children and faced the door. The guards stepped aside and she and Casta disappeared into Bright Moon’s newest (and only) prison.
***
Angella sighed, rubbing her temples. Casta was still questioning Shadow Weaver, or rather, she was trying<\i> to question the old, haggard witch. She was using a truth spell (again). It didn’t have any effect.
It didn’t make any sense. Casta was among the most powerful sorceresses in Etheria, and yet, no magic she used against Shadow Weaver seemed to work. Why?
“Are you sure you’re Micah’s sister?” Shadow Weaver taunted. Angella heard Casta growl in response. She needed to stop this before anything they couldn’t take back was done. She stepped forward, putting a hand on Casta’s shoulder, stopping her before she could say (or do) anything to Shadow Weaver. If it was any other time, any other place, she might not have done that. She would have let Casta hurt or even kill the witch. Unfortunately for them, Shadow Weaver was more useful alive than dead.
“She’s trying to get under our skin,” Angella warned Casta. Her sister-in-law glanced back at her, her brow furrowed in frustration and anger.
“You could save yourself the trouble if you would just let me talk to Adora,” Shadow Weaver said, her voice sickly sweet.
Angella and Casta both stared at Shadow Weaver then. The anger on Casta’s face deepened. Angella felt her own hatred for the witch and her existence bubbling up.
Adora. They had been interrogating her (or trying to) hours before the daymoon rose. Casta had tried spell after spell on her, and still Shadow Weaver hadn’t broken. She hadn’t said anything thing, except to ask to speak to Adora.
Adora. Shadow Weaver had appeared in her room. Why? Why was she so obsessed with Adora? Was this just the poor girl’s fate? Normally, those who defected from the Horde weren’t pursued by their former commanding officers, at least not to Angella’s knowledge. Was it because Adora was She-Ra? Or was it because of something else? Whatever the reason, Angella felt a strong urge to protect. Adora was a part of Bright Moon now. She was practically a sister to Glimmer at this point. Adora had risked her life to defend and protect Etheria, Angella knew she needed to do the same for her.
“No,” Angella said firmly, meeting Shadow Weaver’s eyes. “I’m not letting you near her.”
It was a promise. A promise to Adora. A promise to herself. And a promise to Shadow Weaver. No matter what, as long as she was on Etheria, she wouldn't let Shadow Weaver near Adora.