Quicksand

After a particularly exhausting princess alliance meeting, Adora slouches in her chair while the others file out. Since the battle in the Northern Reach three months ago, the Horde hadn’t attacked in force, only sending a handful of bots at a time. Glimmer and Angella had argued over whether they should be using this time to plan an attack of their own, or to regroup and map out more strategies. The Horde’s actions had put everyone on edge, and after hours of deliberating, they finally decided to resume tomorrow afternoon. 

“Adora?” She feels a touch on her shoulder and looks up to see Bow looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “I’m fine, Bow, it's just- ugh I don’t know. Something feels off about the Horde’s movements lately. No big battles, lots of bots, nothing else that we know of… it seems like they’re planning something big, but we can’t see it. I know Catra - she’s just biding her time, and that only ever happens when there’s something else in the works. But...” 

“But?” He looks at her, confused.

“But it doesn’t, doesn’t feel like her. She would put more of an effort into keeping us distracted to keep us off the scent if there were something big coming. More bots, more stretched out, direct attacks. I don’t know, maybe she knows that this would make us nervous - but then why would she want us to prepare?”

“Hmm, maybe we should try to get some intel, send in a spy or plant a camera?” He squeezes her shoulder lightly, giving her what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “For now, I think that using this time to regroup and fortify borders is our best move though.” 

Adora nods, but can’t shake the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

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Scorpia knocks on the door to Catra’s room. The first room is more of an office with a large table, and her actual room with her bed is behind the door on the other wall. It kept it hidden and away from noise - also serving as a warning if anyone was coming to disturb her. 

“Catra? It’s me.” She pokes her head into the first room, but Catra’s not there. She walks in to knock on the other door, but something on the table catches her eye. Amongst various maps, there’s a newspaper from one of the western, princess-controlled towns. A picture of She-Ra and some princesses with the townsfolk covered the top half, titled: “"SHE-RA SUCCESS: Town of Moorstone Recovered from Evil Horde!"

Were we always seen as evil to the people of Etheria? She wonders. Seeing the princesses’ faces made Scorpia’s stomach turn. They looked so proud of themselves, and like such a close group of friends.

Oh man, Catra must be so torn up about this. She probably feels guilty about leaving the Horde, and sad seeing her ex-best friend with all those people, looking so happy.

She turns from the table and crosses the room to the back door where Catra sleeps. She knocks. “Catra?” No response, so she tries again. “Catra?”

Finally a muffled response comes from the other side of the door. “Go away.”

“Aw wildcat. It’s okay, I’m sure the Horde will take those towns back.” She moves to open the door, but it’s locked. Catra doesn’t respond, so Scorpia sits on the other side of the door. “I know that Adora is a tough topic for you, but now we’re not in the Horde so, ” she takes a deep breath, “so you don’t have to be enemies anymore. I know she left and that probably still hurts, but maybe now you can be friends again?” More silence.

Scorpia stays for a little while longer, then stands. If Catra was open to talking about it, she would try to have the conversation, or at least open the door, so Scorpia leaves it alone. She decides to take care of the day-to-day for her, because it doesn’t seem like Catra is up for anything at the moment.

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Fuck, fuck, fuck. Stop it. No more feelings. No more crying. Leaders don’t cry. Suck it up and stuff it down.

After receiving the newspaper this morning, Catra had locked herself in her room. She isn’t sure how long it’s been. Seeing Adora’s face ripped open that hole inside of her all over again. Even in black and white, Adora’s smile seems to beam out from the page; Catra can almost see the rainbows oozing from the princess’s pores. Despite the shitty quality of the photo, seeing that smile evokes a wave of memories that force their way to the front of Catra’s mind.

Adora’s laugh. Adora’s cocky smile when they teased. Adora’s warmth in their bunk. Adora’s strength during sparring. She-Ra. Their battles. The hurt. The betrayal. Adora, limp in Scorpia’s arms in the Northern Reach...

She isn’t sure how long it’s been - too long, probably. 

Why does it hurt so bad?

With all of the gang stuff that she had been working on, she let it take over the part of her mind that had been used to focusing on destroying the princesses when she was in the Horde. It filled her need to be occupied, and took her mind off of the burning betrayals that she left behind. 

When did I let ‘Boss Catra’ become my identity? When did it change my goals? When did my plan of returning to finish what I started stop being a priority?

The questions burned in her mind. 

She never forgot about Adora, but the thoughts had changed. The feelings had changed. She still wanted to win, she still hates what happened, but she started being able to sleep at night. She would never admit to it, but sometimes she would curl up at the end of her bed, pretending it was their bunk from so long ago. 

Seeing Adora look so happy with all of her new friends stung so much, especially after so long. So long away from the action of war, away from having that new friendship shoved down her throat every single fight. She forgot how much she liked chasing Adora, even though it hurt. How much she liked creating elaborate plans to trick them, most of said plans involving her distracting Adora, leading her away from the fight… 

Sometimes when her thoughts would drift, she would imagine how, where and when she would see Adora again. It almost always involved her back with the Horde in a battle. ‘Hey Adora, it’s been awhile.’ or ‘Hey Adora, long time no see.’ or even just ‘Hey Adora.’ Picturing the shock on her face used to be fun. Now it felt different, less likely, less motivating. Would she ever see Adora again? Her intentions of rejoining the Horde had been pushed to the back of her mind for so long. Faded, almost out of existence. If I don’t go back, will I ever see her again?

Why does it matter if I see her again or not? I don’t care. I shouldn’t care. She kept on living and so did I - so what does it matter. Fuck this, just sleep it off. 

The tears begin to slow and Catra is somewhat able to breathe again. Then she hears Scorpia outside her door. 

Dammit, just leave me alone.

She hears her stop in the office part of her quarters, and realizes that she had left the newspaper out there. As predicted, Scorpia knocks on her door and tries to talk about it. It just makes Catra lash out and cry harder.

I don’t deserve her help. I don’t deserve to have anyone follow me, all I do is fuck everything up. Everyone I trust just turns on me and leaves.

Eventually, Catra fades into the unconscious bliss of sleep.

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Catra feels the hairs on the back of her neck raise before she even opens her eyes. Jumping off the bed while reaching for her whip on the nightstand nearby she looks around wildly -- but there’s nothing there. Just a quiet, dark room. 

Too quiet. 

Too dark. 

Catra’s always had great night vision, but now she feels the pitch black closing in from all edges until she can’t even see the bed a few feet away. Her hand drops the whip involuntarily and her whole body goes still, back straight and tail rigid. She feels the burning crackle of electricity across her fur, but now she can’t breathe either. With a flash, the electric towers in Hordak’s lab materialize around her, depriving her of oxygen. Shadow Weaver appears out of the dark to her side, and Hordak walks into view on the other. 

“Pathetic.”

“Insolent child.”

“Useless.”

“Failure.”

Their voices echo throughout the room, chanting louder and louder in her ears. Directly in front of her, Catra sees a white shadow through her misted eyes. All of her body strains for breath. The screeching of metal on metal reaches her ears and her stomach drops. She-Ra steps into the light of Catra’s enclosure. She slowly lifts her eyes, taking in every inch of Catra’s stiffened body. Catra forces herself to look away, but out of her peripheral vision she sees the giant woman reach her second hand over to grip her sword. Looking up, Catra’s blue and gold eyes meet bright, unnaturally red ones. 

Her vision blurry from the lack of air and the moisture collecting there, all she can do is watch as her now-corrupted former best friend winds up with the sword. It’s my fault. This is all my fault. I deserve this, this is how I die and I deserve every second of it. The tears begin flowing from her eyes as She-Ra swings, aiming right for Catra’s face. 

Adora...

Catra squeezes her eyes shut on reflex and she inhales sharply-- wait, inhales? She collapses, wheezing short breaths between violet coughs. Her cheek feels warm and damp; she leans into the touch. “Catra.” Her tone is soft, concerned. They’re five again. Catra hiding behind boxes on the often-deserted fourth floor. She had been reprimanded by Shadow Weaver for not focusing in class, helplessly bound by red magic cracking across her skin in familiar patterns. She was hiding her tears and collecting her breath when Adora found her.

“It happened again?” All she can do is nod, avoiding those big blue eyes. Adora sits next to her, pulling the cat into her lap and gently petting her fur. Catra turns over to face her, but now they’re much older. Catra wants to scream: ‘You left me! I’ll never follow you! We were enemies! You broke your promise! You hate me...’ But nothing leaves her mouth when she tries. Instead she leans up and hugs Adora close. There’s a faint thumping in the distance, getting steadily louder.

“Nooo…” Catra groggily opens her eyes, but all she’s hugging is a damp pillow. Someone is knocking on her door - thankfully it’s still locked from yesterday. The dream has left her with a strange knot in her stomach. Sighing, she gets up to face the day. Maybe punching something will help.