Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Catra met her, she was seventeen. (Roughly so).

Two days before Adora left. 

Two days before her world was permanently marred. 

She'd always wondered if there was a connection. 

She and Adora had gotten the call to check out a disturbance in one of the storage facilities which, of course, led to their inevitable race that she inevitably won. 

Only to barely stop soon enough to avoid getting shot. 

Skidding to a halt, she stared blankly at the figure crashing around the hangar.

The creature looked humanoid enough, if the idea of humanoid coincided with an entirely metal body and what looked like a handle over its head. The creature lumbered around, scanning various materials before its eyes (or what Catra assumed to be its eyes) landed on her. Arm outstretched, she watched it scan her, mind racing to remember what the heck this thing was and if they were allowed to kill it or not. 

Normally, she would have just killed it, but she'd already gotten in trouble with Shadow Weaver earlier in the day and she wasn't looking forward to another round of unnecessarily painful punishment if this happened to be a new type of recruit. 

“Non-compatible lifeform.” Her train of thought was broken by the robotic tone, the monotonous metal raising its other arm, a small metal cylinder protruding from it, glowing with charge. 

“No!” A pair of voices rang out from opposite sides of the hall, Adora running towards her and-

Another figure, small with blonde hair flailing behind her as she launched herself at the robot’s arm, jilting the shot to bounce off an adjacent wall. It flailed, trying to rid itself, but the angry creature kept a hold. Hooking her legs around its shoulders, she threw it to the floor, narrowly missing another shot as it bounced across the room, taking out a wall panel with it. Adora rushed in to help, only to be swatted away, her teeth gritted. 

“Don't get yourself hurt.”

As Adora made sputtering protests, the pair watched as she ripped a knife from a pocket of her coat, viciously hacking at its neck. Slowly, the light began to faintly dim.  She jumped back, dragging the knife along its chest plate and wrenching it open, muttering to herself. 

“Thank Titania it’s not a convert. Battery, where the hell is the damn battery?” Letting off a string of curses, she stabbed frantically until a satisfying crunch caused the eyes to darken completely. 

She sighed, breathing heavy. A small disk was extracted from another coat pocket, clicked on, and placed on the creature’s shell. It beeped for a moment a small countdown appearing in lights, breaking both Catra and Adora out of their trance as Adora vaulted at the device-

And crashed into the ground, the metal man completely disappeared. Rounding on the girl, still heaving, Catra stared, claws at the ready. “What the hell was that?” 

The girl made no motion to respond, curling up into herself even closer back against the wall, hood draped over her face. Adora crouched over to her, eyes tentatively harsh. “We should take her to Shadow Weaver. I've never seen anything like that.”

“Get up.” Claws digging into her shoulder, Catra pulled her up to stand. The girl made no motion, hood barely moving. “Did you hear me? Get up!”

She struggled against the grip, eyes barely visible. “I just have to wait for Jack to pick me up, it'll be any minute now.”

“I don't care.” Jutting her face towards her, Catra glared. “You're in the Horde now and I say you're coming with us. Don't make me get Shadow Weaver to collect you.”

“You've seen what I can do, don't test me.” Rearing her gaze to meet Catra’s, she spit out the words angrily. 

“That's it!” Coming in between the two, Adora hefted the girl over her shoulder, only to be launched backwards as she wrestled out of her grasp and threw her to the ground, practically hissing. 

“I said, don't test me.” She hunched over, arms up and ready to fight. “If you just leave me alone, no one needs to get hurt.”

Adora got up, almost immediately, sharing a tentative look with Catra as she grasped a stun baton from one of the open crates.

Distract her.

That, coincidentally, meant “be nice to her.”

Great

“We’re not here to hurt you.” Catra raised her hands in surrender, wincing at the display of weakness. “You got rid of,” she trailed off, “whatever that thing was.” 

Neither her expression or position changed, staring at her in stony silence.

“You’re pretty young for a soldier.” Maybe a new angle?

She scoffed. “I’m not a soldier, I don’t see much of a point to war.”

“With that training?” 

“I’m proactive.” Her full attention was on her, letting Adora sneak closer. She raised the baton-

Catra smirked. “Not proactive enough.” 

“Wh-” A tremor went through her body, energy crackling around her as she collapsed. Adora winked (what a dork) and went to pick her up again. Still smirking, Catra turned to the doorway only to hear Adora call after her. 

“Catra?”

Rolling her eyes, she turned back on her heels. “What? Can’t carry a kid?”

“It’s not that,” Adora’s face paled, “I mean it kind of is.”

Eyes landing on the fallen body, her eyes widened in understanding. 

The girl was transparent. 

She brushed a hand through the ghostly figure, fingers passing through what should have been solid flesh. The pair shared a horrified look.

“I’m going to get Shadow Weaver.”

~~~

She regained consciousness a little while later, much to Catra’s discomfort. 

It’d taken Shadow Weaver almost all her effort to carry the girl into the main holding cell, slinking off to recharge her abilities before she’d take the girl “into her own care.” 

Neither of them knew exactly what that would entail, but it wouldn't be pretty. 

She’d assigned the pair to guard her, the unnerved feeling behind her words unsaid, but eerily present.

Shadow Weaver was never unnerved. 

It made Catra want to be alone with the thing even less. 

Even with Adora beside her, the figure enclosed in a protective box, she couldn’t help but shudder. 

The kid, whoever, or whatever she was, wasn’t normal. 

(Even for the Horde).

Adora noticed her wake up first, body flickering back to opaque before two eyes gently fluttered open.

Despite the fear, Catra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She even woke up like a princess. 

Blinking incongruently, the eyes bounced around the interior, her face scrunching when they landed on the lime green barriers surrounding her. A delicate hand brushed her hair out of her face, watching intently as the fingers passed through it for a moment. Her eyes widened, as if bracing for an impact that didn’t appear to come. 

An odd sort of grin spread across her face, a smile of infinite power and control.

One rarely seen by someone in a prison cell.

She noticed them, too, after she’d checked to be sure all of her appendages would remain physical. Eyes regarded them with a curious intensity, giving Catra the unsettling feeling she was somehow scanning her for her innermost emotions. The smile remained as she scooted closer, nose almost pressed against the green. “I’m disappointed in my sloppiness, but I’m rather impressed by the pair of you. You seem so,” her gaze flicked over to Adora, “intune with each other. It’s striking, really.”

“Smile while you can,” Catra felt her nails dig into the palms of her hands, “Shadow Weaver is on her way to relocate you.” She tried to make the final words as sinister as she could. 

The girl only blinked before bursting into laughter. “Shadow Weaver? What sort of stupid name is that?” 

“Mine.” The single word came, barely more than a whisper. Still, Catra couldn't help the rush of fear that came through her, hair standing on end. “I see the prisoner is tangible.”

If she was affected by the women gliding from the back of the hall, she didn’t show it. “I mean, that is the name of a bad supervillain. Possibly the worst name for a supervillain I’ve ever heard and I have a friend who fought a guy named ‘Red Skull.’” She rolled her eyes. “I bet you can’t guess what his main characteristic was.”

“Insolent child!” She was louder now, inches away from the pane, meeting the girl’s eyes with her own expressionless mask.

“I prefer catty bitch, but whatever works best with you, I guess.” 

Catra couldn't stop her own laugh from sputtering out, causing Shadow Weaver to turn to her. “Is there something you find enjoyable?”

“Maybe she’s laughing at the fact you think I’d be scared of someone who looks like the lovechild of Jafar and Ursula. Did you really pick that look?” Squinting, she regarded the rest of the space. “Are you the one who picked out all this burgundy? There are other colors out in the greater world, you know.” 

“Silence!” Shadows exuded from her, pulsing with her fury.

She continued, beginning to pace. “Bad at picking style and bad at picking names. Shadow Weaver? Would your opposite be ‘Light Spinner?’ God,” she rolled her eyes, “have some creativity.” 

There was an almost imperceptible change in Shadow Weaver, shadows flickering for a moment before growing in size. “Choose your next words wisely.”

“I mean, I did you a favor. I got rid of a cyberman. Not only a cyberman but a cyberman looking for a convert? Do you have any idea how dangerous those can be once they get a foothold?” She didn’t wait for a response. “But no, this is The Horde , so you stick me in a box and come at me with your worst dressed antagonist.” Sighing, she turned back to face the wall. “Jack had better get me out of this soon or, I swear to god, I’m going to go Harley Quinn on this joint.” She shuddered. “One color and you pick burgundy?”

“I do not take disrespect lightly.” If Shadow Weaver had been intimidating before, she was downright terrifying now. “You will suffer the consequences for your words-”

“How?” Turning on her heel, she met her with a piercing stare. “I don’t know if your shadow minions can get through the box or not, but I’ll be prepared either way.” Smile simpering, she looked up, meeting the sorcerer’s gaze with her own. “Believe it or not, I can be pretty damn powerful when the need requires.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Catra watched as she flickered in and out of translucency, feet sinking and rising through the floor. “It’s your call though.”

“What sort of princess are you?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it, all eyes turning to her with varying levels of harshness.

“Darling, there are two princesses in the Horde.” Gaze narrowing on Adora, her expression didn’t waver. “I’m not either of them.”

“I will need to speak to Lord Hordak.” The phrase came out almost stammering. “Catra will watch over the,” she paused, “prisoner.” 

“Why don’t I stay with her?” Dumb Adora, pleading for her. “If either of us miss training, we’ll fall behind.”

“She’s chosen to miss enough, one more day shouldn’t hurt.” Glaring through her mask, she icily made an exit, robes flowing in her wake. Adora followed, mouthing apologies behind her. 

“Sorry about that.” The girl had repositioned herself, sitting cross-legged close to the clear lime walls, playing with the edges of her coat. “It’ll probably be pretty boring watching over me. You can leave if you want! I promise I won’t escape while you’re my guard!” She held up two fingers. “Fae’s honor.”

She glared ruefully. “There’s no point. You’ll be more interesting than lectures on the predictability of princesses.” Her eyes flicked to the hood of her coat, gold filtering through as she rocked back and forth. “Are you sure you’re not a princess?”

“What?” Awkwardly, she pulled her hood down, revealing an intricate golden circlet, inlaid with clear and black gems, slightly raised, supported by gold in a regal fashion.

More queenly than princess.

“If you have a tiara, that makes you a princess, doesn’t it?” 

“Not exactly.” She adjusted it in her reflection. “I happen to have it, and it looks better on me than in some protective case.” 

To anyone that happened to be passing by, she would look like a princess, if an oddly dark one. the bodice of her coat fit itself around her snuggly, blossoming at the arms and waist, falling behind her like a gown, pockets speckling the dark base with offset blacks that didn't seem to match. Boots, black with gold and silver accents dotting its leather hide mirrored her jewelry, heels higher than Catra had seen. Earrings and bracelets fit with her crown, dripping with lavish darkness, all except for a clear pearled strand, coiling around her wrist and disappearing into her sleeve. Her face had a pointed nature, ears sharply and almost awkwardly sticking out of her hair, paired with oddly rounded eyes, filled with curious observation. 

Gone was the terrified creature that had flinched and fought, replaced by an impishly regal figure, lethal even. Lip curling into a half-smile, she leaned over and rested her chin on a fist. “You're wondering why I’m different, aren't you?” Trailing her focus to her nails, her gaze remained both steady and proud. “My answer would be that a person is rather different when she is expecting a panic attack and when she realizes that, for the first time in a long time, she has nothing to fear.”

“You do realize you’re in a Horde prison, right?” Leaning against the edge of the cell wall, she let her head rest against it.

“That’s the funny thing, though.” Her smirk disappeared, replaced with a genuine smile, light appearing behind her expression. “The one place I have no freedom is the place where I feel the freest. I haven’t felt anything this good since Endga-” she stopped, smile disappearing. “It’s not important.”

“Enjoy it while you have it. If Shadow Weaver gets her way--” Her own expression darkened. “It’s not going to be pretty.”

She shrugged. “If my restrictions are gone, they’ll have a tough time torturing me physically. If you need help, you could make me watch the 2020 RNC, or read A Tale of Two Cities , ooh,” she shuddered, “make me listen to the Riverdale version of Heathers. Now that’s hell incarnate.”

“No idea what those are and why would you tell me?” 

“Maybe I want to even the playing field.” Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Maybe I want to give you a chance to be good.” Sighing, she lay back, boot resting on a pointed knee as she stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe it's just because I wanted to figure out whether the security cameras over there have microphones.”

Looking over her shoulder, Catra eyed the cameras suspiciously. “How would that prove they didn’t have microphones?”

“Because you just told me.” She winked, cupping a hand around her mouth. “I don’t think you want anyone else to hear what I’m about to say.”

“What could you possibly say-”

“Adora likes you back.”

She tensed, almost immediately freezing up, grip tensing as nails dug into her skin. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh come on!” Flailing her hands above her head, she groaned. “She’s twice as obvious as you are. Even if Widow hadn't taught me about the psychology behind it, it'd have been clear.”

“Widow?” 

“Code name.” She pursed her lips, lolling her head to face her. “Everyone’s got one. You didn't honestly think I'd use any real names here.”

Catra squinted. “What about Jack?”

“It's really no big deal.” Turning to her side, she rolled her eyes over-dramatically. “He can't go four seconds without introducing himself. Anyone else that has any brain cells wouldn't dare give their name in most cases.”

“Do you have a codename?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Royal.” She savored the word. “They call me Royal.”

“But you're not a princess?”

“I’m as much of a princess as you’re good at distracting.” Winking, she smirked. “Meaning, not at all. Adora likes you--like ‘likes’ you.”

Her expression soured even further. “I heard you the first time. It doesn’t matter.”

“Please, you’re head over heels.” Royal’s grin only increased as Catra’s claws dug into the side of the ledge, scraping sound following the rough indents. “There’s no use denying it, I already know what’s going to happen.”

“What do you mean you know what’s going to happen?” The only response was an annoyingly serene smile. “What’s going to happen?”

She shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough.” Fiddling with her pearled bracelet, her expression saddened. “And there’s nothing I can really do about it.”

“Okay.” She gestured vaguely. “What’s with the bracelet?” 

“My uncle made it for me.” Some semblance of happiness returned. “Each bead is holy water, a little protection he can give me when he’s not here.”

“Lots of good that did you.”

“You never know.” Veiled mischief flashed across her face. “It could still be useful.”

“In a box?” 

“I’ve got six walls holding me, I only need to go through one.” 

“Six?”

“I’m in a cube, love, do try to keep up.” She inspected her nails. “So, your shifts are normally in 30 minute rounds. We’ve conversed for twelve, which means I’ll have to schedule my escape in the next twenty three-unless Kyle comes after you. I don’t want either of you to be blamed for the chaos that will ensue.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “No one escapes from a Horde prison. Aren’t you also waiting for Jack?”

“Eh.” Checking a screen from inside a jacket pocket, she grimaced. “Jack’s currently struggling to find me and the signal’s really bad in here. Good lord,” Her eyes widened. “He’s lost Phoenix.”

“Another codename?”

“Obviously.” She stashed the screen away. “Apparently, when I said the Fright Zone, he got the coordinates messed around and she’s somewhere in Rebel Territory. I’ve told him he can take his time.”

“You’re getting comfortable? Or do you not remember the threats of torture?” Catra shuddered. “Trust me when I say that when Shadow Weaver’s pissed, she lets you know it.”

“I’m aware and prepared, though, I doubt she'll get to me within the next hour.” A distant crash caused her to tense up before she continued, eyes wary as she sat up with faux nonchalance. “She's too scared to go to Hordak before she's figured out who I am and how I know what I know , and it's not like she's not going to figure it out. However, she doesn't trust herself against me and she can't get any significant back up without Hordak. It's a paradox.”

“And if your paradox doesn't work?” 

She shrugged. “I'll figure it out as I go. It's not like I'll be here for long.”

“You can keep telling yourself that.” Catra shifted away, her back to the pane. “No one escapes the Horde.”

“I guess I'm no one, then.” 

The next fifteen minutes passed in terse conversation. Royal didn't seem too intrigued to tell much about herself and Catra wasn't especially willing to hear the overly personal information she'd somehow acquired. She was almost grateful to see Kyle come down the hallway, cautiously explaining that he was her replacement (please don’t hurt me) . Still, as she sauntered through the doors, she couldn't help but look back. 

Royal had already relaxed and begun freely conversing with her guard. Perched at the edge of her cell, her expression softened as she listened to Kyle’s story. From a distance, she looked innocent, a trapped princess stuck and waiting for her rescuer. Catra’s gaze narrowed, noticing the glint in her eyes, the chaos behind her smile. 

Even if that wasn't a princess, she was a threat. 

Catra just didn't know what kind. 

~~~

Kyle wasn't expecting to be assigned to a guard position. 

No one in the Horde exactly trusted him, choosing to give him the less desirable jobs. 

That should have been the first clue to the oddness of the situation. 

For starters, Catra seemed off. Her hands clenched into themselves, tail thrashing violently. She didn't even insult him, or respond to him more than a cursory glare with veiled fear. 

All that was especially puzzling when he approached the prisoner. Looking up from a screen, she smiled. “You're Kyle, right?”

“What?” He looked around. “Are you talking to me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?” 

“It's just.” He paused. “No one talks to me.”

“Why not?” She cocked her head to the side. 

He shrugged. “I don't know, they just don't.”

“That's stupid.” She pulled a knife from the recesses of her coat. “Do you want me to stab them?” His eyes widened in fright, causing her to wince as she returned it. “Or do you want to talk?”

“We’re not supposed to talk to the prisoners.” He shuffled back, tripping slightly. 

“It's probably safest if you talk.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she winked. “It takes a lot of effort to create an illusion that talks. I'm not this annoying naturally, it takes talent and skill.” 

“If you say so.” He slid onto the ledge, noticing the rough edges left there by Catra. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I'm not sure.” She shrugged. “How are you doing?” 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He felt the beginnings of a smile grow. 

~~~

Catra didn’t think of Royal (or whatever the heck she was calling herself) until after seeing Kyle again.

Something was clearly off.

He’d strolled into the barracks, just as her and Adora had finally gotten themselves comfortable enough on their bunk (whether it’d originally been Catra’s or Adora’s neither could remember) to begin to play with a deck of cards Lonnie had stolen from one of the older cadets.

It wasn’t the fact that Kyle was in the barracks that was off, he’d normally hide in his bunk with whatever sketching materials he’d been able to get his hands on.

The odd thing was that Kyle was smiling.

Kyle never looked genuinely happy or confident enough to show an emotion other than fear. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Catra got a sense of satisfaction watching him stiffen at the sound of her voice. 

“I just got off from my shift.” Scared or not, the smile was still there. “Lonnie took over for me.”

“Why would that make you happy?” 

“She was nice. She actually wanted to talk. To me. ” He shrugged. “I like her.”

Adora raised her eyebrows. “She’s a prisoner, Kyle.”

“Still, she seemed cool.” He settled into his bunk. 

“Wait,” Catra’s eyes narrowed, “when did Lonnie take over for you?”

“Five minutes ago, I think. Why?”

She grabbed Adora’s hand, yanking her upwards. “We need to go out there.”

“Why?” She winced, head colliding with the upper bunk. “What's so important about that?” 

“She's going to try to escape.” 

“Come on, Catra.” Adora rolled her eyes. “No one’s ever escaped from a Horde prison.”

“Maybe.” She tried to suppress the worry in her voice. “I'm not so sure this time.”

~~~

They skidded to a halt in front of her cell a few minutes later. Lonnie had leaned against the beam, watching Royal from the corner of her eye. Royal had curled up in the corner, sitting against the back wall in unnaturally bored silence. 

“I told you, Catra.” Adora rolled her eyes. “No one escapes.”

“Escape?” Lonnie raised her eyebrows. “How bad of a guard do you think I am?” 

Catra glared. “It's not you, it's just-” Royal’s figure flickered out of the corner of her eye. “What?” She looked again, but nothing had changed, except- “Where's her bracelet?”

“What?” Lonnie gave her a look of disbelief. “What bracelet?”

“On her right wrist. It doesn't fit with the rest of her outfit.” The image flickered again. “What's going on?” 

Royal looked directly at her and snapped her fingers. All throughout the cell, the scene changed. A note had been scrawled in large letters against the back wall, the missing bracelet (much longer than she could have thought) draped across the doorway adjacent to it. The prisoner herself was positioned against the far corner, mere feet from their small group, a brightly colored piece of plastic in her hand. “Get down!” 

Catra and the others blanched at her while Kyle ducked into a little ball. “What?”

She didn't get a chance to respond, instead flicking the item, producing a small flame. Hurling it at the pearled strands, she curled against herself- 

Barely avoiding the explosion it produced, Catra, Lonnie, and Adora all littered with shrapnel as the green barriers collapsed in on themselves, letting the heat and metal attack them at full force. Instead of the usual alarm, a different sort of sound rang through the room, almost melodic in its beat. 

Gasping for breath, Catra looked up to see Royal mutter something into her phone as other soldiers began to surround the space. “Jack, I'm going to have to put you on hold.” The music reverberated through the hall as she grinned, pulling herself into fighting stance. 

I like

Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot

She vaulted herself at the first two, causing one to go crashing to the ground as she threw them off her shoulder while she kicked in the knees of the other one. 

I like

Drinking hard, maxing Dad’s credit card

Two shots rang out, causing another two to fall onto each other as she caught the punch of a cadet and twisted his wrist, causing him to yell out in pain while she wrenched his arm out of his socket.

I like 

Skipping gym, scaring her screwing him

Avoiding a stun baton, she dropped to her knees and swiveled her leg around, taking out another pair of legs with it. Using the recently fallen body like a spring board, she kicked upwards, heeled boots colliding with the jaw of a cadet and another pair of shots rang out. 

I like

Killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose

The trio was beginning to rise, Lonnie being the first to run at her, baton cracking with energy. She dodged, easily sidestepping, only to run into Catra as she rounded on her, claws extended. Barely avoiding her first slash, she pulled onto Catra’s arm, wrapping her legs around her neck to bring the two of them tumbling to the ground. 

If you lack the balls you can go play dolls

Let your mommy fix you a snack

Crouching low, she shot Lonnie as she came at her again, picking the stun baton from her hands and using it to block Catra, whacking her with it across the stomach. Pulling herself back to standing, Catra noticed the way her hands maneuvered around the buttons as she sidestepped Adora. Too fast for whatever she should have been able to do. 

Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke

In my Porsche with the quarterback. 

Fingers quickly found the right buttons, heat and electricity raditiating from the metal tube as she spun it around her, a green wave lashing out at anyone nearby. Adora’s eyes grew wide beside Catra, practically yelling to be heard over the music. “I didn't know they could do that.”

Her eyes narrowed as Royal tore down the hall, a small army in close pursuit. “They can't.”

Honey what you waiting for? Welcome to my candy store

Time for you to prove you're not a loser anymore.

~~~

Kyle followed after Royal, dodging the blasts that came from her baton or whatever weapon she'd previously been holding. Swearing to herself, her eyes met his in a passing reflection. 

She winked. 

And step into my candy store

Snapping her fingers, he felt the vibrations underfoot as the doors closed behind them. Turning around on her heel, she snapped her fingers again, eyes shutting in focus for a moment to close the door in front. 

Guys fall

At your feet

Pay the check

Help you cheat

She met her attackers, the green baton glittering in her belt matched by eight others. Muttering under her breath, she grabbed Kyle’s shoulder. 

“Give me a minute.” 

Left hand swinging up to catch the scaffolding from the ceiling, she hoisted herself up in one fluid motion, narrowly avoiding the combined beam of energy that was trained at her. Clutching the pipes, she swung down, boots once again colliding with the face of a cadet before she fell into the arm of another who collapsed with the weight. 

All you 

Have to do

Is say goodbye

To Shamu

A flash shot upward, as she stood, bringing the baton around, energy colliding with three others. Crashing down to avoid a stun beam, she met the angry glare of an older cadet with defiance and pushed back on her hands to kick her boot up between his legs. Kicking his face to the side as he bent down in pain, she slid past a dark haired girl, baton colliding with her back. 

That freak’s

Not your friend

I can tell

In the end

As if noticing she'd gone after everyone but Kyle, the final cadet ran at him. Training the mouth of the baton to his skull, he glared down at her as she stood, surrounded by a mess of unconscious bodies. 

“An impact this close would kill him. I don't know what you two are playing at, but the Horde doesn't forgive. If he's just another soldier to you, it shouldn't matter.”

All semblance of possible enjoyment had left her stare, eyes angrily harsh. “However, I can. Let him go.” She took a step forward. 

Music reverberated through the hallway. 

If she

Had your shot

She would leave you to rot

He only pressed it closer, finger brushing the trigger. “Rebels aren't reasoned with.” 

“I'm not a rebel.” She kept her gaze trained on him. 

“Anyone who isn't for the Horde is a rebel.” 

“Drop. The. Weapon.”

“Or what?” 

Stamping her foot, Kyle only had a moment to brace himself before he felt the cadet next to him loosen his grip. Eyes opening, he noticed the hall change, almost turning in circles around her. Panels of the floor and wall began flipping over, some showing other rooms in the Horde, some only black and white squares. Spreading her arms, the walls began to pulse in and out with movement, bending like cloth. Beside him, the cadet began to step back, fear flushing through his face. “How are you doing that?” 

Honey, what you waiting for?

Ignoring his question, she stepped forward. “I told you I could forgive, not that I would.” 

Step into my candy store

Snapping her fingers, the panel beside him opened down, falling directly onto his attacker, Royal rushing towards Kyle as he collapsed. Immediately after, the room reverted to normal. Fear finally showing in her eyes, she let out a shaky breath. “Are you alright?” 

He couldn't look from the space where the cadet had fallen. “What did you do?”

“A little reality, a little illusion.” she smiled, the music quieting down so she could speak. “It's not a big deal. Hopefully he'll get a concussion, but it shouldn't be anything worse than that. Here,” she placed a package in his hand, “I was planning on giving this to Blair, but you seem like you could use some actual drawing pencils and I can make Jack stop on the way home. These too,” she pressed a small sketchbook along with another satchel into his hand, smiling. “If I knew I was coming here, I would have brought more food, but it's the best I can do.”

Gingerly opening the bag revealed small packets of what claimed to be different types of crackers, along with a few different bars. “Why are you giving me this?” 

 “Because you're kind and you deserve kindness too.” From the deep recesses of her coat, she handed him a final object, a small metal rectangle. “Use this pager if you need help, or if you just want to talk.” She bit her lip, sadness passing through her expression. “You deserve better than this, but I can't get you out, yet. Hide them in the bag, it won't take too much space.” Grabbing an “L” shaped weapon from her coat, she grimaced. “I'm going to have to shoot you so you won't get in trouble, okay? They're icers--tranquilizers, so it won't leave any lasting effects.”

He nodded, still confused. “Why didn't you let him shoot me? I’m a member of the Horde, I could attack you.” 

“You could,”  she shrugged, “I doubt you will. Even if you were my enemy, I wouldn't want you to die. And you're not my enemy,” she squeezed his hand, bag now safely stowed away into the pocket of his pants. “You’re a friend.” 

“Really?” He smiled. 

“Really.”

Then, the world went dark

~~~

Meanwhile, Catra and Adora were still looking for a way in. 

Royal had gone into a narrow hallway with nine other Horde soldiers, somehow shut both doors, and hadn’t come out. 

The chances of survival were low. 

(Which was the reason they were using to destroy a panel in the wall to get to her).

As they stepped through Catra’s cruelly made opening, the first thing they noticed was the pile of bodies.

Littering the ground, Horde uniforms and stun batons fell in every direction, facing every which way, the door at the other end opened. Kyle, oddly enough, could be found as far away from the entry, softly leaning against an older cadet Catra didn’t know the name of. Carefully, they stepped in between the splayed arms and legs to the opening. 

The hallway, it turned out, happened to be an add on, or at least that’s what Catra had assumed. They found a storage unit, high ceilings revealing a halted construction, boxes and crates towering over them in stacks. Precariously perched on one of the stacks was a familiar black and gold clad figure, grinning down at them.

As the final notes of whatever she’d replaced the alarm with began to fade out, Adora approached the makeshift throne. “Surrender to the Horde.”

The intercoms crackled, a new melody filtering through. 

N-n-n-n-n-n-no way

There's no way

“What she said.” Admiring herself in a small mirror, she adjusted her crown. “You know, she was the previous owner of this.” She winced. “Though, I doubt she attached it with half as many bobby pins as I have. -- Don’t even think about it.” 

Meekly, Adora stepped back from the pile she’d clearly been intending to scale. 

Catra rolled her eyes. “What’s all this about?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” She smirked. “I would give whoever came after you or Kyle five minutes.”

“And then you killed him?”

“I don’t kill.” Glaring, she snapped the compact shut. “Nothing I have is inherently fatal. My gun’s filled with icers, tranquilizers for when I could and when I couldn’t,” she sighed, “it shouldn’t be too bad, a couple weeks of recuperation at the most.”

“Why haven’t you iced us yet?” Catra whacked Adora in the side giving her a look. 

Don’t give her any ideas.

“I don’t want to,” she held her weapon (gun?) delicately, “I probably will eventually so you don’t get in trouble, but until then I don’t see much of a point.”

“And what if we attack you? You’re balancing pretty well up there, but it’s still balancing.” Adora raised her eyebrows in a cute attempt to be intimidating.

Never mind, not cute, stupid. 

Stupid is a safer word than cute.

Her smile only grew as they watched the stack flicker in and out, stone and boxes. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Is that how you took them down?” She gestured to the hallway.

“Kinda,” Bringing her leg on top of the other, her nose crinkled with ridiculous glee. “I threw them off their rhythm.” When she didn’t get any response from Catra or Adora, she sighed. “No Doctor Who, no John Mulaney. Do you people have anything here besides a totalitarian regime with bad style choices?”

Adora shook her head. “The Horde isn’t any type of totalitarian regime, we bring order to Etheria.”

“Is that what they’re telling you?” She barked out a laugh, almost losing her balance as she leaned backwards. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never heard anyone say something so completely ridiculous with such a straight face. Though,” her eyes flitted to Catra, “I’d say that’s the only straight thing about you.”

She ignored the color that was seeping up her cheeks. “Whatever, rebels' opinions don’t matter.”

“For the love of Titania, I’m not a rebel.” Brow creasing in annoyance, she fixed the two with a pointed stare. “I think they’d have some good points if you’d only listen to them.” Regarding Adora with an observational glance, she softened. “And that’s when everything changes.”

“What?” Adora looked between her and Catra fearfully.

“There's-” she paused, letting out a shaky breath, “There’s a choice you are going to face and,” Her eyes landed on Catra, softening with pity, “one of you is going to be wrong.”

From the insides of her coat came a striking noise, clashing with the music that had replaced the alarm. Catra couldn’t tell what it was, just that it repeated the word “womanizer” (or was it “woman icer?”)

“He’s here,” She forced herself to smile. “I’ve got to go.” Pointing her pistol at the pair of them, she sighed. “I really am sorry, you know.”

The shots fired faster than they could move, Royal’s clear, green eyes leaning over her as she went unconscious. “I’m so, so sorry.”

~~~

Glaring up at the recently demolished cell, Shadow Weaver felt her fury pulse. 

Whoever the prisoner was, she’d left. 

Left with more information than Shadow Weaver could have thought one blonde, insolent, mind could hold. 

She felt her jeering expression as she regarded the message drawn on the wall, almost looking like it had been painted with gold ink. 

She knew her name.

She knew her past.

And, as she turned away to skulk back to the Black Garnet Chamber, she would find who she was.

Behind her, the words mocked her, brightly contrasting the dank walls of the Fright Zone. 

A rose among the thorns. 

Tauntingly.

To Whom It May Concern:

I regard you and your badly dressed cult with both judgement and annoyance. (Though, I’ll be fair, Hordak, the cult you originated from was even worse). For the record, this is not the fault of any of the cadets who were charged with my care, they never stood a chance. :) So, LEAVE KYLE AND CATRA THE HELL ALONE! 

I hope you like the playlist, it’s 11 hours and 36 minutes.

Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll have it fixed by Princess Prom (or as soon as you get someone with actual cognitive faculties to help).

To all the cadets: THIS IS A TOXIC ENVIRONMENT -- GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE WHILE YOU CAN (your mental health will thank me).

ALSO, STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM PORTALS -- NONE OF YOUR LABS HAVE THE PROPER SAFETY FEATURES

Overall, 1 out of 5 stars, would not recommend

See you later, Spinny!

- Royal <3 

Chapter Text

The second time Catra met her, she was sure it was a mistake.

Truthfully, she was the happiest she’d been since Adora had left. If she couldn't be her friend, she was content with annoying the ever loving hell out of her. 

Unfortunately, Sparkles was upset by something or other and she had yet to follow her to her current location which, while providing her with a clear vantage point to the rest of the ball, was annoyingly snackless.

And, when you’re not eating or stewing in the fact that your best friend and possibly something more has left you for someone dumb enough to wear a crop top in an ice palace or etching figures into railing with claws only to realize that you’ve just been sketching Adora-

You get bored. 

Catra doesn’t like getting bored. Getting bored only means being alone with your thoughts and spiraling off when you realize that you’re worthless and no one has ever loved you and-

(You get the picture).

So, there she was. Gripping the railings tighter as Adora placed a hand over Glitter’s, giving her that reassuring smile that she only used to give her.

She didn’t think it could get any worse. 

“Nice suit, though, are you sure about the burgundy?”

The voice trilled from the corner, dripping with mischievous glee. Letting out a low breath, she turned, trying to keep up the facade of nonchalance. 

She knew that voice.

In all of her miniature glory (annoyingly, matching Catra’s height in her heeled boots) she was there. 

Eyebrows raised and dark red lips curled into a pleased smirk, she leaned against an icy support beam. 

If she’d looked like a princess the first time Catra had seen her, she was definitely one now. Another tiara, a myriad of green stones entwined with strands of silver and gold rested gently upon her blonde locks, floating around her either through static electricity or a complete ignorance of gravity. Green metallic squares embedded into heavy black fabric came up to her neck, petal-like sleeves protruding outwards, cut off only by the cropped style, the forest of colors flowering around her in a skirt, the front raised midway above her knees while the back fell to the tips of her heels. 

Catra glowered. “You’re here.”

“What was I meant to do?” She winked, sauntering over to lean against the railing. “Jack heard the words ‘princess’ and ‘prom’ together and decided we had to go.”

“Without an invite?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or are you a princess after all?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m in relation to a rather powerful queen and Jack’s always getting called a queen.”

“I’m not sure that’s the same thing.”

“And Phoenix is my plus one.” She traced patterns in the railing. “It would have been Gwen, but she’s got rehearsal.” 

Catra raised an eyebrow. “No codename?”

“You’ll never get close enough for it to matter, so no.” Her fingers continued their trail. 

“If I did?”

“I’d end you,” she smiled sweetly, “though, she could handle you on her own, I’m sure.”

“Careful.” Catra unsheathed her claws. “That could sound like a threat.”

“It was--stop.” She held up a hand. “You don’t want to attack me.”

She let her own hang in the air, cocking her head slightly. “Why’s that?”

“Violence isn’t allowed in the ball.”

“Neither are crashers.”

“You could turn me in, of course,” she inspected her own nails, also annoyingly metallic green, “but that would bring guards to you, and I’m pretty sure Adora would notice. Do you want me to tell her your plan?”

She glared out at the party. “What’s there to tell? She’s the one who left me and made the wrong choice.” Raising an eyebrow at her, she continued. “That’s what you told us last time, didn't you.”

“Adora didn’t leave you.” She raised her hands in surrender at Catra’s scowl. “In her mind, that is. You need to understand that you're two different people with two different types of conditioning.”

“No kidding.” She looked out again.

“What I mean is that Shadow Weaver’s manipulation was different for the two of you in its intent.” Gesturing to Adora, she continued. “Shadow Weaver saw her as the easiest way to get control for the Horde. To get that degree of commitment, you can try it one of three ways. A lust for power wouldn’t be safe, seeing as that could lead her to be successful, but could also lead to her turning on her, and the last thing she wants is a lack of control. Love for a person or group wouldn’t work, seeing as you’re basically the only thing she loves and Shadow Weaver hates you.”

Catra ignored the blush seeping up her cheeks as she continued.

“So, the best way would be to make it about ethics. If Adora thought that the Horde was the only thing stopping Etheria from utter collapse, along with a healthy dose of savior and martyr complexes, you get someone who is suicidally dedicated to the cause and forced to be perfect. She prioritizes moral obligations. Meanwhile,” she gestured to Catra, “she had no such aspirations for you, instead using you as an unhealthy outlet to project all her feelings of self-loathing onto. Thus, you grew up with a low sense of self esteem and weak idea of self that hinged on Adora’s appreciation of you. You prioritize personal relationships over moral obligations.” Her smile was annoyingly passive. “When she left, you focused on her leaving you rather than her leaving the evils of the Horde.”

“Are you some sort of psychotherapist?”

“Nope,” she shrugged, that stupid smile remaining plastered on her face, “but it turns out that when you have the mental stability of a vase held together by duck tape fixed by literal kindergarteners, you go to a lot of therapy and you pick up on a lot of things.”

Catra sighed. “Who’d have thought?”

“Highness!” A voice came from behind, startling the pair. “I was wondering where I’d find you!” 

Royal’s face contorted between a mixture of a grin and a grimace. “Hiya, Harkness.”

Turning on her heels, Catra found herself face to face with “Jack.” He was tall, tall enough to tower over her in an uncomfortably warm manner, dark hair messily brushed to the side, tie tossed around his jacket, lazily attractive. Bright blue eyes smiled down at her, unnecessarily close to Adora’s shade. “And you are-”

“Lesbian, Jack.” Royal rolled her eyes. 

He backed away almost immediately, bowing slightly. “My apologies.” 

She grunted. 

Turning to Royal, he continued. “There’s some woman with purple hair who stole my food and then went on an excited rant about technology. Are you sure she’s not the Doctor?”

“That’s just Entrapta.” She shook her head. “Though, I was hoping to have a conversation with her about her work integrating First Ones tech with modern tech, it seems to parallel what we’ve been working on at home incorporating magic and tech-”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes, “what else was I expecting when I brought the nerd?”

“Shove off.” She smiled despite herself, as she took his arm. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

It took a moment before she realized she’d been talking to her. Fixing her expression into an acceptable glower, she nodded slightly. The two walked away deep in conversation, Jack sparing her furtive glances before Royal whacked him upside the head. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to where Adora and Twinkle had been, now noticeably lacking in princesses.

Claws angrily dug into the railing, shards of ice falling onto partygoers below. By the time they’d looked up to see what had happened, she was gone.

~~~

Kyle hadn't known what to expect by coming to Princess Prom. Catra had all but thrown the extra uniform at him and told him to follow Lonnie’s orders. 

For someone who was barely older than him, she certainly acted older.

They’d been stationed outside of a large pair of doors for the better part of two hours. Their cover made it essential to not talk, just to stare out to the other guests. Lonnie hadn’t said much in the way of what they exactly were supposed to do, leaving him to stew in confusion as his mind concocted the different horrible scenarios they’d be forced to play out.

He’d be forced to, Lonnie didn’t seem to mind.

She’d been quieter, angrier since Adora had left. Though, in all certainty, he wasn’t sure if that’d just been because of Catra’s promotion. It wasn’t as if they’d been particularly close, Adora was more of the buffer to stop them from going for each other's throats. 

And that had disappeared.

Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, her expression didn't provide much help. Cold, emotionless eyes shone from behind her visor, lips stuck in a tight line. He couldn’t imagine she’d object to much.

The thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

“Are you okay?” The question came harshly, annoyed.

He hadn’t even realized he was shaking. The thick uniform felt suffocating, his breathing becoming short, each breath a fight for air. He was almost sure she could hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Fine.” The word came out stuttering, shakier than he’d hoped.

“Just,” she grumbled, “cut it out.”

His heart seemed like it was going to crash out of his chest. 

“Excuse me?” He heard Lonnie swear under her breath as a green-gilded young woman rushed forward, face contorted into the perfect princess expression of terror, her voice warbling in fear. 

An oddly familiar voice.

“There’s this tiny horrible creature in the women’s bathroom. I’m not so sure what it is, but it’s got lots of hair and lots of teeth.” Her voice hushed into a scared whisper. “I think I saw it attack something.”

“Uhh,” Lonnie actually looked confused. When the woman noticed her hesitation, Kyle felt a trembling hand latch onto his arm, feeling more delicate than it looked. 

“Do you think you could help?” Kaleidoscope eyes peered into his, fear cracking away for a moment when he saw it wink before he was jerked away. “I’ll return him in a moment.”

He gave Lonnie one last pleading look before he was yanked around the corner. She let go of his hand the moment they were out of earshot. “Hey, breathe with me, okay?” 

Hidden out of sight behind the corner, he felt himself lowered onto a ledge jutting out of the wall, his hood gently lifted from his forehead, a glass of water pressed into his hands. “Slow breaths, close your eyes, focus on your surroundings.”

Eyelids fluttering shut, he followed her instructions, feeling the rest of the noise and anxiety dissipate with each labored breath. When he finally opened them, he found himself face to face with a familiar sight.

“Royal?”

“Hi.” Red lips pursed into a tight smile. “Sorry for taking you away and all, it just looked like you were close to a panic attack.”

“A panic attack?” He took a sip of water, letting its cool wash over him.

“You know,” she searched for the words, “they normally come from anxiety where fear washes over you and your mind and body get too pent up to let it out smoothly, so it all kinda comes crashing down?” Awkwardly brushing a strand of hair out of her face, she blushed. “Blair gets them more than I do, I’m not totally sure how to describe it.”

He nodded, his own awkward smile growing. “I get it, I just didn’t know there was a word for it. They don’t really talk about that stuff in the Horde.”

“Of course they don’t.” She sighed. “They do understand that mental health is actually a thing, right?”

“You know, I don’t think they do.” He rolled his eyes. “That would involve admitting we’re human, and cat, and lizard, and,” he paused, “whatever Octavia is.”

She smiled, mask genuinely breaking with joy. “It’s the ridiculous limitations that get me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I mean, what sounds good about the ‘Horde?’”

Her laughter subsided. “I wish there was a way to get you out of there, all of you.”

“It’s fine,” shrugging, he took another sip of water, “there’s always limitations. No one can do everything.”

“But I want to.” She muttered the phrase under her breath, blush creeping up her cheeks when she realized she’d said it out loud. “Sorry, Dr. Bright says I’ve got a bit of a savior complex.”

“You sound like Adora.”

“She’s got something like that too.” Dropping down to sit next to him on the ledge, her eyes widened imploringly, giving her the look of a well dressed baby dear. “Look, I’m really sorry about icing you, if I could’ve done anything else I would’ve.”

“It’s alright,” he went to put a hand on her shoulder before he noticed her flinch, choosing instead to stick it back in one of the expansive pockets of the winter coat, “Shadow Weaver didn’t notice and no one’s really been on me more than usual,” he paused, “almost no one.”

“What?” The baby deer turned back to him again. “Has someone been picking on you?”

“It’s the Horde.” He rolled his eyes. “Someone’s always picking on me.” 

“But it has increased?” Her eyes narrowed, altering the image of the baby deer into something much more likely to eat the baby deer.

“It’s just Bryce, the cadet that, you know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “threatened to kill me.”

“Why are the jerks always named Bryce?” Her eyes narrowed even more. “What’s he done?”

“Normal stuff, I guess. No one really has any idea about what you are and he may have said he thought I’d be,” pausing awkwardly, his eyes fell to the floor, “sleeping with the enemy.”

“That’s it.” He blinked, registering the knife that had all but appeared in her hand. “He’s going to pay.”

Kyle couldn’t quite contain his shock. “How do you keep getting so many knives?”

“Pockets?”

“Really,” his hand delved back into his own pocket, “it’s not like he’s the one sending me on random missions and not telling me anything.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Catra didn’t tell you what you’re doing here?”

He shook his head. “No one will tell me anything, so I've been spiraling. That’s,” his gaze fell to the floor again, hand tightly gripping the cup of water, “that’s why I was acting like that.”

“Do you want me to tell you?” 

“You know?”

“Of course I know.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re kinda here to make sure you all don’t get yourselves or others hurt too badly.”

“Isn’t that the point of the mission?”

“Do you want to know or not?”

He nodded silently.

“Good,” taking a sip from her own cup she’d placed to the side, she continued, “You’re all going to put heat bombs, or whatever they’re called, to various parts of the ice palace. Scorpia’s going to steal She-Ra’s sword, and you and Lonnie are going to kidnap Bow and Glimmer.” She held a hand out, noticing his breathing quicken. “Adora’s going to get everyone back really soon and Weaver’s going to take a major loss.”

“Isn’t this Catra’s mission?”

“And Weaver’s going to take the credit. All in all, you should be fine.” 

“I wish we didn’t have to do all this.” His expression drooped, ignoring the tears that were beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. 

“I know,” she sighed heavily, taking another sip from her drink, “I can probably get you out eventually, but it'll take some time.” Face brightening, she set it down. “I can’t believe I almost forgot! Jack and I will be able to drop some food and stuff off, if you want it.”

“I’d love that.” He nodded enthusiastically, meeting her gaze, before awkwardly dropping it back down. “Sorry, I’ve just never had a friend before. I don’t want to take stuff from you.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s no trouble. I can probably get him to drop stuff off every once in a while if you’d want.”

“Really?”

“I’ll visit too,” she blushed, despite the cold, “if you’d like that?”

“Yeah.” He felt himself smile. “I’d love that.”

“Alright, then,” Brushing her skirt to stand, she readjusted her tiara, giving herself a once over in the icy reflection. “Until next time, love.”

“Until next time.”

~~~

Catra didn’t see Royal again for sometime until she spotted her with Harkness in the corner. Leaning against a nearby pillar, she found herself listening into their conversations.

“All I’m saying is that they were incredibly attractive.”

Royal gave a sigh worthy of the princess of Salineas. “You’re not flirting with a shapeshifter that has no moral compass, okay? I’m going to have to deal with them later and I’d really not like it to be awkward.”

“You do know I’m over sixteen hundred years older than you. I can make my own decisions.”

“Fine.” She huffed, making Catra roll her eyes. Stupidly Princessy . “Then I’ll make my own decision to give Barnes your contact info. I’m sure he’s very pleased after you flirted with his husband.”

He gasped. “For the last time, how was I supposed to know he was married?”

“They both wear wedding rings.”

“I’m sorry, the man was shirtless. I wasn’t exactly looking at his hands.”

She groaned. “Or, better yet, I’ll tell Nat you got me stabbed-”

“-that wasn’t the first time you’ve been stabbed.”

“Or almost burnt at the stake for witchcraft.”

Catra resisted the urge to look around at them. They had to be lying, right?

“You probably shouldn’t have worn a crop top that said ‘smash the patriarchy,’” he paused, “or worn a crop top at all.”

“You were wearing one too, you know.”

“But we both know that I’m an incredibly attractive-” she groaned in annoyance, “white male. We can kinda do whatever we want in history.”

“All of history, it seems.”

“What?” The teasing in his voice halted, giving way to something much softer. “Did you get catcalled again? I know River’s been rearing for a fight.”

“It’s not that,” she grimaced, “well, yeah. Sometimes I just want to watch the world burn.”

“That’s more Regina George than Anne Boleyn.” The levity returned.

“Sorry not sorry.” She laughed. “What time is it?” 

“It’s-wow.” Catra could hear the grimace. “They’ll be setting them up soon. Do you want to grab Phoenix?”

“Now we’re using codenames?”

“Whatever it takes to please you, highness.”

“In that case-”

He sighed. “I’m still not getting you a guillotine.”

“Traitor to the crown.” She snarled at him lightheartedly.

“What are you going to do, behead me?” She winced at the playful cadence. How could the man be this happy?

“I'll decide your due punishment later. Now we're got a job.”

“See you on the other side, highness.”

“Not if I see you first, Harkness.”

“Not with your eyesight, you won’t.”

She laughed. “Whatever, just make sure this place doesn’t collapse.” 

“As you wish, milady.”

“Jack-”

“I’m leaving.” Stepping past Catra’s beam with a smirk, he nodded to her. “Lesbian.”

She scowled. “Freak.”

“The first dance will be starting soon,” his smirk remained annoyingly present as he turned away, “are you going to find that blondie of your’s?”

She would have clawed him had it not been for the distance. From the other side of the pillar, Royal’s heeled boots clicked against the icy floor. “Remember, love, vengeance rarely brings the catharsis you want it to.”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. “Which one of your therapists told you that, pipsqueak?”

The attempted insult rolled right off her as she walked past, disappearing into the crowd. “Harley Quinn. Don't lose your head.”

Chapter Text

Kyle was hoping he’d get another chance to see Royal.

Unlike Catra (who refused to acknowledge her existence outside of the rare encounter--much less mention her to Hordak), he’d like to think he’d been on good terms with her.

Sure enough, after the whole mess that was Princess Prom was over, she’d begun visiting like she promised.

It wasn't often and it never followed a schedule, but he found himself used to her small figure appearing out of the darkened halls or, someone tumbling through the vents that wasn’t Entrapta. 

She’d never seem to age the same as him, a few months passing for his year, but she always had a smile, a story, and food. 

And, seeing as everyone kept stealing his rations, he accepted all in good faith.

They’d mapped out a storage closet, hidden out of sight with incantations she chanted out of a worn leather book and filled with enough comforts and contraband that if it were ever traced to him, he’d find his head on the spike.

But, in a place that was always crowded and always lonely, the risk was worth it.

Royal had been the first one to give him names for things subtle enough the Horde didn’t seem to notice. 

~~~

“Do you know if you have anxiety?” She’d asked one particularly rough afternoon that she’d found him crying in the corner, shaking uncontrollably, nails cutting little half-moons into his palms. “These just keep happening more and more and I’m getting worried for you.”

“I’ll try to stop them, then, try to be better.” The words came with heaving breaths.

“No, love,” she swore under her breath, “I’m not upset at you for having these okay? Panic attacks, anxiety attacks, they’re not something you can just control. If anything, I’m upset that you feel that way--that you think you have to just push everything down. You don’t---you never should, okay?” Her eyes met his imploringly. “Your feelings are valid and emotions are a part of life. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

He nodded slightly, breathing slowly calming. “What’s anxiety?”

~~~

He’d taken a test on her phone as soon as they’d gotten to the closet, a stolen Horde-issued blanket wrapped around his shoulders with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

Sure enough, his results had been accurate. 

~~~

“That’s good.” She smiled at him, looking up from the book she’d been reading, bright, uneven letters spelling ‘Room’ against the blank background. “I’ll check with Uncle, but if you have anxiety, there are skills you can learn to help navigate.”

He looked up from the screen. “Will you teach me?”

“Of course, darling.”

~~~

After that, she’d started coming with print-outs, notes from her godfather, her uncle (who she informed him was a therapist, and positively an angel).

Having had his scones, Kyle could agree.

So they’d practice. He’d talk and she’d listen. Sometimes she’d talk and he’d listen. Sometimes they sat in silence.

Sometimes he notices half-moons appearing on her palms too. 

It took a while for her to hug him, for him to reach out a hand without her flinching away instinctively. It was the same for him, too, really.

Who was he to judge?

Once they got comfortable around each other, they’d lay on the ground of the closet, looking up at the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars they’d put on the ceiling, talking about everything and nothing all at once, Royal resting her head on his chest.

(According to her, it’s because he was more comfortable than a Horde-issued pillow).

(He always wondered if she knew he was touch-starved). 

~~~

“I’m telling you, it’s like she was flying up there, I just couldn’t believe it.” Her hands made trails in the air as she held them above her head, gesturing lightly. “She--it was just so beautiful and so stunning, she’s really an artist. What she does--it's art.”

Kyle felt himself smile at the image. “I wish I could see one of her shows. They sound incredible the way you describe them. Though,” he paused, smirking, “I think you might be a bit biased.”

“Okay.” She scoffed, raising her head to give him a pointed look. “First, screw you.”

“Really persuasive.”

“Second,” her head lowered back to his chest, “she’s my girlfriend. Of course I’m biased. You should hear the way you talk about Rogelio.” 

He groaned, covering his head with a pillow. “You play dirty.”

“I’m not the one with a crush on a lizard.”

“She’s part spider!”

“She was bitten by a spider!” 

“Whatever,” he threw the pillow at her, “I’m older than you, show some respect.”

“Do you really want to play this game Mr.Eighteen-and-three-quarters?”

“I like that age!”

She blinked. “Do you really not know your birthday?”

“Neither do you.” He shrugged. “At least I know the year I was born.”

A pillow collided with his face again. “Low blow, cadet.”

“Renaissance girl.”

“I never should have showed you Something Rotten.” 

“You really shouldn't have. Now I have ‘Hard to be the Bard’ stuck in my head all hours of the day.”

She cackled. “Welcome to the club.”

~~~

Her visits were always welcome and never quite the same. Sometimes she’d come with books or movies, or music.

Sometimes she'd come half-singed, explaining how she'd had to stop her darling child from setting her house on fire. 

Apparently, Dodie was fourteen. 

He didn't ask about the fire powers. 

She’d always come with food.

And she’d always come with kindness.

~~~

“I brought ice cream!” She grinned, holding out a cold container with a spoon. “Widow let me get some for you because of the occasion.”

He took the unfamiliar food graciously. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my found day.” A playful, childlike light bounced through her expression. “My parental guardians found me on this day, fifteen years ago.”

He nodded through a mouthful of (quite possibly) the most heavenly thing he’d ever tasted. “Are they magic too?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “They didn’t quite know what to think.”

“But they still kept you?”

“Obviously,” shrugging, she bit her lip, “I’m really lucky to have them. Griffin wanted to come too, but they’ve got an art class.”

“Griffin’s your sibling, right?” He half-listened, mind completely absorbed by the frozen chocolate in his hands.

“Yep, the androgynous Snow White. You’ll be able to meet them--all of them--the whole wonky, chaotic family I’ve made, one day. God, they’ll love you.” Her expression sobered. “I’m really lucky to have you too, you know.”

“Yeah.” He felt the familiar awkward blush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s nice to have a friend.” 

“Like the song.”

“What song?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Haven’t I shown you Taylor Swift’s ‘Lover?’”

He shook his head. “Only ‘Speak Now’ and ‘1989.’”

“Really?” She gaped at him in disbelief before pulling out her phone. “Then I've got to fix that. She’s got a fabulous song about pride--I mean--here,” she handed him one of her earbuds, “listen to it yourself.”

He took it, as excited as she was.

~~~

She brought music into his life. Literally, in some cases. 

Songs, art, snippets of conversation were enough to keep him through the darkness of the Horde.

And, he found himself able to support her within her own darkness as well.

~~~

“Bad day?” Dark circles hung under her eyelids, hair escaping the low ponytail she’d put it in as she leaned against the wall.

“Yep.” She gestured to the spot beside her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Nope.” 

They sat quietly for a moment. 

A heavy, rattling breath broke her silence. “They’re on a mission.”

“They?”

“Parentals-they’re--somewhere in Turkey I think?” She shrugged. “I just didn’t feel in the mood for the normal sorts of distraction.”

“Jack knows you’re here, right?”

“He dropped me off like always.” She gestured to the box of cookies and thermos beside her. “He’s good at knowing what to do when you don’t want to talk.”

He leaned back against the wall, their shoulders brushing. “And that is?”

“Cookies, milk, and ‘Calvin and Hobbes.’” She passed him a book. “Wanna join?”

Smiling he opened it, the warm glow of the lamp beside them brightening the colors on the page. “Why not?”

~~~

That was when he discovered the wonderful creation of Calvinball.

(Which happened to be very useful later on).

The worn, secondhand collection became another fixture of the closet. 

Another way to cope. 

Other visits were less quiet.

~~~

He hit the matted floor with a sickening thud. “I thought you said you’d go easy on me.”

“It’s all about balance.” She leaned over him, pigtails dangling in parallel lines beside her head. “Horde moves mainly focus on force and brute strength. When you’re spindly like we are, you need to use your opponent’s strength against them. Judo is a lazy man’s sport. The less effort you use, the better.”

“Alright.” Standing up again to meet her stare, he smiled faintly. “Let’s try again?”

~~~

And, god, were those tricks she’d taught him useful later.

Having Royal as a friend was having a secret no one else knew.

A secret no one else could've even considered.

Except for Catra, that is.

~~~

“Where the hell is she, Kyle?” She’d cornered him after training in the locker room. “The stupid music has come back eight times since Princess Prom and there’s no way you could’ve gotten semi-decent scores without help.”

He tried to hold her gaze, confidence wavering under her stare. “Maybe I’ve been inspired by your leadership?”

“Leadership can’t save a lost cause.” Embedding her claws in the wall beside him, she stalked off without another word, leaving jagged reminders of her fury. 

Royal didn’t take the news well when he told her.

“Are you sure I’m not allowed to stab her?” She rolled her head to the side to look at him, a dagger dancing between her fingers. “Stabbing is a useful asshole-deterrent.”

“It can also be kinda fatal.”

“Not if you know how to stab.” She made a couple jabbing motions into the air in front of her. “Or, if stabbing’s off the table, I could probably find a bus--”

“Catra is not Regina George.” He sighed. “She’s more of a Heather Chandler--or a JD.”

Turning to him again, she grinned. “This is why we’re friends.

~~~

So, Kyle would say, he had a rather good relationship with Royal.

At this point, he knew what to expect.

Which is why he was shockingly unsurprised to once again see a lazily attractive man in a long coat smirking at him down the hall, an androgynous teenager next to him, their pale skin contrasted by a mess of dark hair and striking green eyes.

“Griffin?”

They nodded, grinning. “Call me Blair. Alice has a couple daleks she’s dealing with, so she wondered if you’d like my company.

He couldn’t help but smile.

~~~

Catra was hoping, quite possible praying, that the second time would be the final time she saw her.

She should have known the universe was too cruel to assist.

“There's something in one of the storage facilities.” The cadet’s voice warbled with fear as she narrowed her eyes at them, tail thumping against the ground angrily. 

She arched a single eyebrow. “Why should that concern me?”

“Uh,” he gulped, “Cadet Lonnie said you’d be the best to take care of it. There’s,” he wrung his hands nervously, “the sign too.”

“What sign?” The scowl deepened, mercy only coming as they took her to the door. Sure enough, there was a sign. 

Do Not Enter

Fighting In Process

Hi Catra ;)

Wrenching the door open, she found herself face-to-face with an oddly familiar sight. In a flash of blonde hair crouched Royal, brightly-colored weapon pointing at two robotic-looking creatures.

Unlike the previous, these had less of the appearance of a human, more like angry cups that had grown a plunger, their sides covered in metallic half-circles as they angrily approached her. 

“Exterminate.”

Ducking a blast, she fiddled with her gun, before lopping over her shoulder to fire. Bracing a hand over her face, Catra only had a moment to protect herself before Royal had kicked off, shot exploding with paint, covering her two adversaries.

“Wilfred taught me that one.” Hands gripped onto two metallic disks, she slid off her perch to stick them onto their sides. The first one disappeared a few moments later. The other one, however--

“Paint is no comparison to the might of the daleks.”

She groaned, dodging a blast from its stalk. “That’s what I thought you’d say, you dumb freaking dalek.”

“What the-”

“Out of the way, Applesauce.” Another shot out of her hulking weapon threw Catra to the wall, crashing into a pile of boxes with a cloud of smoke. Glaring up over her awkwardly placed limbs, she could vaguely make out the outlines of the pair, still fighting.

Well, more like the angry cup was just shooting at her and Royal was dodging.

“I think you might know a friend of mine, Donna Noble. Or the Doctor Donna?” She smirked. “She kicked all your asses at one point and she was just a temp from Chiswick.”

The cup stopped. “Explain?”

“Well,” Royal shrugged, hefting her weapon like a bat, “if a temp from Chiswick could take down your whole armada, one disaster bi should be able to get rid of a couple of you, right?” 

“No human can destroy the might of the daleks.”

She winked before bringing her gun down on the eye stalk. “Good thing I’m not human then.

A splintering crack rang through the room as she slammed the other disk onto its side. Another moment and they were alone, the thing gone, sighing, Royal spun the broken eye stalk around in her fingers.

“Now that’s,” she didn’t get to finish her sentence before Catra had barreled towards her. Colliding with the wall, she let out a cry of pain. “What the?” Her eyes flickered up to Catra’s, fearfully widening with confusion as she met her furious expression. “Okay, I guess we’re doing this.”

Catra raised a hand, claws extending as she prepared to strike. “You talk too much.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” Grunting, she dodged the fury of fur and claws, reaching up to Catra’s neck. Grasping around, she used her feet to kick off the wall, sending the two of them tumbling to the ground. Both rolled away almost immediately, Royal’s arms extending carefully. 

“I really don’t want to hurt you, okay? I hit you, you hit me, we’re even?”

She let out a cackling laugh for a response. “How are you so dumb? I’m not about to back down to some princess in a tiara.”

Dodging another swipe, Royal glared. “Not a princess. Look, this isn’t going to end well for either of us, can we just stop for a second?”

“You can.” Catra brought another clawed hand down slashing, cutting her down the side as the smaller girl barely dodged out of the way in time. “I’m not a coward.” 

Her eyes flitted over to her gun, skewed off to the side, just out of reach. Catra’s followed suit, leering over her. “Don’t get any ideas you-”

A hand grasped her wrist and jerked her arm towards her chest, causing her shoulder to crash awkwardly into the ground. Kicking her legs up, Royal righted herself to stand and lunged for the weapon, missing it by inches as Catra dragged her back by her heel, snarling.

“You and Adora really seem to rely on your toys, don’t you?”

“Trust me, it gets much worse if I don't get to use my toys.” A hand flailed out, weapon still out of reach. 

“Really?” She leaned over her small frame, smirking. “For me or for you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You.” 

The same hand shot up, palm awkwardly whacking her forehead as fingers knotted in the crown of her hair. In another moment, Royal yanked down, hand flush against her face.

And she found herself hit with the force of a tank. 

Eyelids forced shut, memories swam back and forth across her psyche, snippets of words, images, feelings.

“Insolent child.” 

“Adora’s not here to protect you anymore.”

“You have never been more than a nuisance to me.”

“I never thought you cared about that.”

“Adora didn’t run away from the Horde, she ran away from you!”

“I was lying, obviously!” 

Stories, memories, flashes of pain flickered in and out like failing fluorescent lights, tabs on a tracker pad blinking in and out, back and forth, bright and dark, sadness and joy, love and loss, faster and faster and faster andfasterandfasterandfasterand--

She felt herself thrown back, head hitting the metal floors of the Fright Zone. Too stunned to move, her gaze fell on Royal, eyes wincing with a similar response. 

Unfortunately (as things always were) she recovered faster, bolting over to the discarded gun. Hands grasping the hilt with fervent reassurance, her eyes narrowed, barrel pointed at her. 

“We are going to make a deal.”

Catra had enough wherewithal to slowly sit up, hands unsteadily supporting her shaking body. “What the hell was that?”

“I told you it was worse if I didn’t have my toys.” Her expression didn't change. “We are going to make a deal.”

“What deal?” Squinting, she shook her head, trying to force her thoughts back into place. 

“You are not going to fight me, try to kill me, or enact any bloody or painful actions on me. In return, I will never do that to you without your consent again. If you agree, we can continue this conversation like sane individuals and, if you disagree, I will shoot you, right here, right now, with glitter. And trust me,” she shuddered. “Glitter never gets out.”

Trying to look unfazed, Catra smirked. “How can you be sure that I’ll honor my side?”

She shrugged. “Normally, I’d hope a person would be good on their word but, seeing as you've actually said the sentence: ‘you know nothing’s too low for me,’ I’ll just assume that if you do attack I no longer have to hold to my side of the bargain.” A dangerous smile flickered across her face. “All it takes is a touch.”

“If I agree, will you leave me alone?”

“Once Jack picks me up, yeah.” 

Catra paused, wincing as she failed to right herself. “Fine.”

“Good.” The menacing expression changed, replaced by the annoyingly serene smiling one she knew from experience. “Can I help you up?”

She growled. “Don’t touch me.”

“That’s fair.” She nodded, awkwardly stowing her weapon back across her back. “So, am I going back to prison again?” Once again, the mischievous glint returned to her face. “It’d be fun to break out a different way, ooh,” her eyes widened, “a prison riot could be interesting.”

“No.” Finally standing, Catra scowled at her, pacing to the door. “I can’t trust you, so you’re coming with me.”

“How do you know I won’t cause more chaos that way?”

“Because I know I’m smarter than you.”

Letting out a huff, the smaller girl followed her as she stalked out of the room, almost colliding with Scorpia in the process. 

“Catra! I was just looking for you! One of the cadets said you were around here and I-” Her eyes landed on Royal, grinning brightly, odd strands of hair escaping the low pigtails after the fight. Raising her gaze slightly, her eyes widened at the sight of her tiara, black and white stones set in delicate silver. “Did we get a new ally?”

“Nope.” Catra jerked her head towards the hallway for Royal to follow, Scorpia trailing behind them.

“Did the princesses?”

“Nope” Fingers closing around the familiar handle to her office, she wrenched it open. Gesturing to the open door, she raised an eyebrow. Taking the hint, Royal stepped through to the threshold, eyes scanning the room with curious intensity. Scorpia’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Then why is she here?”

“The universe just loves to spite me, I guess.” Hands grasped the edge of her desk for stability. “Hey! Don’t touch that!”

Royal flinched away from the screen she’d been toying with. Rolling her eyes, she leaned over the other side of the desk, eyebrows raised. “Is this seriously your organizing system?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“Amy Santiago would weep.”

“Sorry,” Scorpia stepped in between them, eyes still on Royal. “Who are you exactly?”

She paused, looking up from the mess of papers. “Have I not introduced myself?” Scorpia shook her head. “My apologies.” She curtsied. “Call me Royal.” 

Her confusion didn’t dwindle. “And that means?”

Catra sighed. “Do you remember that time that an unknown prisoner broke out of the Horde prison after half an hour and messed with the alarms systems so that it played a non-stop twelve hour playlist of music no one had ever heard of on repeat?”

“Don’t I ever.” She shook her head. “It took almost a week for Hordak to get it to stop. It was chaos the way it kept getting back in the system. And they said the whole thing was done by some blonde kid barely over five feet.” Her eyes widened with recognition. “You don’t mean-”

“Creator of chaos, at your service.” Royal winked. 

“Why isn’t she in one of the cells?”

“Because, for all her annoyance, she happens to be an idiot who keeps trying to tell me to ‘be a better person.’” A claw pierced the page she was holding. “She was at Princess Prom and didn’t stop anything. It seems that our best chance to keep her out of trouble is to keep her fighting distance.”

Royal scoffed. “Okay, first, you only went through with the plan because it was canon and we really didn’t want the effects of what would happen if we stopped it. Jack and Phoenix moved everything that was attached to a structurally integral beam. Second, you’re not fighting me. We have a deal.”

“Jack’s not part of our deal.” She didn’t look up from the page she was reading. “I could have him killed once he got here.”

In her lifetime, Catra has issued many similar threats to the point that she was relatively used to the response. Unfortunately, as of so many things with the little jerk, Royal’s response was somewhat different.

If what counted as somewhat different included giggling. 

“Okay,” she grinned playfully, “looks like you’ll just have to kill Jack-” the sentence trailed off into a cackling fit of laughter. “You’ll--you’ll just-- you’ll kill Jack?”

Catra felt her claws dig into the table. “What’s so funny?”

“Jack doesn’t die, Applesauce.” Royal rolled her eyes. “He’s an immortal. The man has died a million different ways, but they can’t stick. He can’t really, permanently die.”

“Like the queen of Bright Moon?” Scorpia interjected, still perplexed. 

“No,” she shook her head, “he wasn’t born immortal. It was this whole thing with Rose Tyler and the Vortex or something. You can try if you like, but he’ll keep coming back and your ammunition won’t.”

She raised her eyes, piercing Royal with a glare. “Are you always this annoying?” 

“Oh, definitely. I’m insufferable. I, however, don't project my insecurities onto other people or repress emotions unhealthily. If you're used to that, anyone's annoying. You know,” she fixed her face into an image of innocence, “I wouldn’t be as annoying to you if you let me wander, I’ve been at the Fright Zone enough times that I can figure it out. Maybe check on Entrapta, or Kyle…”

“Don’t you dare. I know you’ve been coming back more often than you’ve let me know.” She tossed a paper to the side. “And I know you’ve been spending a good portion of that time with Kyle. There’s no other reason he was able to beat them.”

“From what I heard, it wasn't them. Just you?” She sank into a chair, propping her heels on the edge of the table. “I would have loved to see the footage if it wasn’t deleted.”

Her claws dug into her hands. “There’s no proof I was there.”

“Does that sound like something an innocent person would say?”

“I had an off day.”

“Really?”

“It was one time.”

“It’s your own damn fault.”

“How?”

“He kept getting picked on because he wasn't as strong and he didn't have knives embedded in his fingers. It was easy, honestly.” She admired her nails. “All of you guys have the exact same fighting style and are taught the exact same fighting style. All I had to do is use the Bittenbinder method and ‘throw them off their rhythm.’ I swear to God, I did not think judo would go that far.”

Scorpia blinked. “Are you friends with Kyle?”

She let her feet fall to the ground as she groaned. “Why is it so hard for you people to appreciate him? When this is all over, Griffin is going to lecture every single one of you.”

“Who’s Griffin?”

“My sibling,” she kicked off the edge of the desk, wheeling her chair over to the wall, “they’re the other one that’s here.”

Catra’s pen fell out of her grip. “The other one?”

“Yeah.” Royal shrugged. “Perhaps there are two this time, ever think of that? There were three at Prom. Maybe I've brought a whole army of nerds with me. Dodie would definitely have some fun here.” She let out a low whistle. “If you think I can do some damage, you have no idea.”

“You’re lying.” Catra narrowed her eyes, searching the annoying blank face for a sign. 

“Am I?” She narrowed her own eyes back, meeting her stare.

“I’m not going to waste manpower. We're stressed as it is.” Sighing, she focused back on the sheet. (Something about agriculture?) “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Really? And if so, is it working?”

“No,” she threw a pen at her, “go distract Scorpia.”

A satisfying silence filled the room before Scorpia pulled up another chair, the wheels grating against the ground. 

“I like your crown.”

“Thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Catra watched her drag a finger across its sheen. “Though I really shouldn’t be the one to thank you, I’m not the original owner.”

“You aren’t?” Scorpia cocked her head to the side.

“No,” she paused mournfully, “its original owner was Jane Seymour, the third wife of Henry VIII.”

“He had three wives?”

“Six, in total. None of them at the same time, mind you. Whenever he got bored with them he just divorced them or beheaded them, most of them.”

“Was she beheaded?” 

“No,” she shook her head sadly, “she died in childbirth. Natural causes. Her story’s just so sad.”

Catra could practically hear Scorpia’s sympathetic expression. “Why’s it sad?”

“Henry VIII was a terrible person, there's no doubt about it.” She shrugged. “I mean, anyone who beheads a third of their wives should be considered a terrible person. She has this, hopelessly romantic song in the musical where I first heard of her that describes how toxic the relationship was. He only wanted her for what she could give him and she knew that he would leave her and abandon her but she still loved him.”

Scorpia shifted in her seat awkwardly. “And she changed him?”

“Nope. Despite her unshakable love, she died and he had three more wives after her. You could say he was an asshole to the very end.”

There was an audible pause. “I don’t like that story very much.”

“Me either,” Royal shook her head. “But it’s an important reminder, you know?”

“I do?” 

“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” Royal fingered the edges of her coat. “You can’t change someone if they don’t want to change and there comes a point where you can waste away with them if you keep trying and they keep resisting. Jane Seymour died, yes, but if someone else hears her story, she can save them.”

“Is that why you wear it? As a reminder?”

“Yes.” She nodded, brushing away the barest hint of a tear. “It’s important to remember that, despite what you do for others, you sometimes need to save yourself too.”

“Huh.” Catra felt her own cheeks heat up at Scorpia’s almost resolved tone. “But, someone could have saved him, right?”

“Not if they bowed down and enabled him.”

“And if they didn’t?”

“He had them beheaded.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, too much power and no one to check it can really do things to someone” she grimaced, “there’s this rhyme that they use to remember his wives. It goes-” she was cut off by violent static raging through the intercom. Catra instinctively covered her ears, wincing her eyes closed as the sound receded. Whirling on Royal, she snarled.

“What did you-”

Divorced

She shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t the only one here.”

Beheaded

“If Kyle had anything to do with this-”

“He didn’t.” A new voice perked up from the far side of the room. 

Died

Confident, cheeky, she rounded on him.

“Freak.”

Jack Harkness smirked back at her. “Pleasure to see you again, lesbian.” 

Royal stood. “Did you get Giffin yet?”

Divorced

“I thought I’d wait until I got you.”

“How kind.” She pursed her lips. 

Beheaded

“This is louder than it was last time.” Scorpia used her pincers to shield her ears.

“Yeah, I did the hacking so it should last longer too.”

Catra hissed at him. “Why the hell-”

Survived

His fingers hovered over the blaster at his side. “Please don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

She snarled. “Two can play at that game.” 

“Both of you!” Royal glared at them. “I think we’d better leave before-”

Jack paled, typing into something on his wrist. “Right, sounds like it’s time to go.” 

And tonight, we are

Royal darted over beside him, saluting. “Sorry in advance, see you next time, Applesauce.” 

“Wh-” Catra found herself cut off by an almost ear-shattering note.

LIVE!

And they were gone. 

And that, that would have to be the last time she saw her. 

Right?

Chapter Text

The fourth time Catra saw her--

Well, the fourth time was different.

Catra wasn’t even the main reason she was there.

~~~

“Take care of her.” Kyle nodded from behind Lonnie, fingers gripping the baton. They didn't have long if they wanted to get out safely. 

As they left Scorpia and Glimmer behind in the shaft, Lonnie eyed their surroundings warily. “If Catra and Hordak are still at each other’s throats we’ve got a short window. Maybe we could get a skiff?”

Rogelio shook his head and grunted something, making Lonnie’s scowl deepen. “If she’s secured them all, then I doubt we’d be able to. We could try, if we needed to, but-”

“I got it!” Waving around a small metal box, Kyle grinned. “I’ve got a friend who can pick us up. She told me to call her once I saw Scorpia again.”

“You have a friend?” Lonnie’s voice was laced with less malice than complete confusion, Rogelio’s concerned expression revealing much the same. “And she’s a girl?”

“Yes, she’s a girl.” He glared over the device, a red and gold design retracting to reveal a simple screen, the message in blocky letters. 

AM: Send coordinates - I’m on my way

“Are you sure she’s real?” Leaning over his shoulder, Lonnie eyed the message with suspicion. 

Hurriedly typing out a reply, he glared, biting back a response. “Yes. We should be getting out of the way.”

“How long is it going to take?” 

Rogelio grunted and Kyle nodded. “I’m not sure, but she hasn’t let me down.”

The unlike you was silent. 

“Alright, then.” Lonnie scanned the area. “Where should we go?”

A nearby explosion cut off any response, debris flying everywhere, forcing all of them to attention. Gripping his baton, Kyle backed up, the trio squinting into the haze as a lone figure stepped through.

A tiara, set with red and gold stood out awkwardly in the rubble, the only part of her that wasn’t dusted with Horde. Blonde hair fell around her face, escaping the loose braid that’d been haphazardly tossed over her shoulder, pointed ears peeking out. Impish eyes traced over the landscape, black, coat dappled with pockets, closed and flapping in the artificial breeze, choked with smoke. Her hands remained tightly fixed around a hulking weapon, still glowing faintly from its last discharge. Eyes finally meeting Kyle’s, she smirked.

“Do you like my gun?”

Both Lonnie and Rogelio watched in a mixture of shock and horror as Kyle grinned, breaking ranks to walk towards her. “Royal, you’re here.”

“Of course, love. Why wouldn't I be?” Fingering with the settings, she reloaded her weapon. “I was already here chasing down another bloody Sontaran. Annoying little potatoes, but they have impressive weaponry.” Her eyes flitted over to the other two, still frozen in shock. “That’s them?”

“Yeah, all accounted for.” He shot them a smile, only causing Lonnie to look more terrified. Royal nodded, pulling a screen out from a pocket and began scanning.

“I told them to wait where they were, but I doubt it'll still be there.” She frowned at her readings. “And I’m right.” Stowing it away, she grabbed Kyle’s hand and gestured to the others. “We’ll need to get out of the way to call them.”

Lonnie and Rogelio shared a look before following them as the girl weaved in and out of recently-demolished buildings, occasionally shooting at the random opponent. Her gun was odd, almost sonic-like, sending out a shockwave of purple light. Ducking into what appeared to once have been a skiff hanger, she paused, pressing a few buttons on her screen before passing it over to Kyle in favor of tracing a chalk outline, singing underneath her breath. Lonnie eyed it with suspicion, looking up as a screen began to cover the unprotected area, cutting off the sound with it. Turing back to them, she took the phone out of Kyle’s hand, glaring at it. “How hard is it for him to connect the bloody thing?” A silence fell.

Lonnie took the time to finally speak up. “Who are you?”

“I am me.” She didn’t even look from the screen. “Well, that’s inaccurate, I’m me, but I don’t call myself ‘Me,’ that’s someone else entirely. I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I remember you rather well, Lonnie.” 

“What?”

“Could you explain, Kyle?” She continued to grimace. “I need to fix this.”

“Yeah,” turning to them, he smiled awkwardly, “this isn’t her first time here, but the last time you saw her was two years ago, probably.” 

“Definitely.” She winked over the screen. “I’d like to think I’ve been rather discreet.” 

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“Kyle does.” 

“Kyle trusts everything.”

“Maybe that’s something good.” She gave him a soft smile. “Yes!”

Above her screen, a hologram flickered to life revealing a window of what appeared to be a ship. Loose railings attached themselves to the perimeter of the landing, heavy beams crisscrossed, supporting walls filled with bright circles. Rolling her eyes, she snapped.

“If I don’t see one of you bloody brits in two seconds-”

“Sorry!” Another blonde girl appeared in the image, ponytail bouncing across her shoulders before ducking out. “Dad panicked.”

“I did not panic!” Gangly with floppy hair, a man entered the frame, squinting at the image. “They were shooting at us!”

Their own blonde, (Royal?) practically glowered. “You had one job.”

“I got you here, into a different time of a different reality.” The man matched her expression before hurridley disappearing out of the frame, converse shoe supporting the screen. “You know she doesn’t like anomalies.”

“You’re an anomaly, Doctor.” Pulling up another hologram to the side, this one a map of the Horde. “Where’s Donna? I need to talk to someone functioning.” The converse man (Doctor?) glared while the blonde only shrugged.

“What?” Peering up from below the landing, a red headed woman came into view. “Where’s the next point you want us to go?”

“Checking,” Biting her lip, she dragged a finger to the side to reveal the Horde, now practically demolished. “There’s a hallway behind Hordak’s lab that should remain intact for the entirety of it.” A tremor passed through the floor. “That seems like it was coming from the other side of the grounds? Catra and Hordak should be finishing their little disagreement soon, which means we’ll be able to avoid Shiny Five Hargreeves and Hawkeye.” Tracing out a path with her finger, a green line began to appear. “This should be the most direct route.” 

“Alice.” Eyeing the map, blondie reappeared. “You don’t have Gwen with you.”

She winced. “Right, I’ll have to fix that.”

“Your name is Alice?” Kyle spoke up from over her shoulder while Lonnie gave him an incredulous look. 

“She never told you her name?”

“I didn’t want Prime to know it.” Alice erased her past route and began retracing another. “How’s this? We’ll have to pass through the Sanctum, but neither of them should be there.”

“And if they are?” The other woman, Donna, called out from the other side of the console.

“I’m going to run into Catra eventually and Hordak’s easy enough to take down.” She shrugged. “He’s like a Sontaran, all it takes is a hit to the back of the neck.”

Lonnie glared. “What if she starts something? The Horde doesn’t take kindly to defection.”

“Believe me, Catra’s not going to try anything.”

“Why?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Because I’m right and she’s not going to want to confront that.”

“How exactly do you know Catra again?” 

“Got it!” The Doctor’s voice came excitedly. “Coordinates should be set. You’ll have ten minutes once we send you the all clear.”

“Good!” Alice’s hands roamed throughout her little hub of tech. “Have Jenny text me when you’re ready.” 

“On it!” A pair of hands shuffled over the control before the hologram disappeared. Turning to the trio, Alice regarded the map.

“I haven’t been around the Horde as much as you three, but this is the best route out of here. We have maybe a minute to rest before we’ll go out. If they’re not there, we can’t risk going out into the open. The less seen the better.” Her gaze landed on Rogelio. “Are you armed?”

He shook his head, grunting some sort of explanation while Alice took something out of a jacket pocket. Flicking her wrist, they watched it extend a few feet until it ended as a sizable rod. Handing it to him, she also passed a bright blue box. “Baton and taser. They’re not combined, but will that do?” 

He nodded, excitedly taking them from her outstretched hand, while Lonnie’s glare continued to deepen, realization flushing through her face. 

“You’re that weirdo that broke out before Adora left.”

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out.” Phone stowed away in another coat pocket, she pulled out her braid, quickly trying to fix her hair into a functioning ponytail. “And I’ve been here many times since. I don’t blame you, though, as I said previously, I was discreet.”

Rogelio growled and Lonnie translated. “You haven’t been back since then.”

“Do you not remember every time the alarm system got hacked, or the audio system in general?”

She blanched. “They said that was a recurring virus.”

“Is that what Catra calls me?” Alice smirked. “How kind.”

“How do you know Kyle?”

“He was my guard before you, and he's a friend.” Her smile warmed. 

A ding jilted her from her happiness. Checking the screen, the smile disappeared. “Jenny’s in position. We've got maybe ten minutes before someone will notice.”

Lonnie gave him a look. “Are you sure we can trust her?” 

He nodded solemnly. 

She sighed. “Then, let’s go.”

~~~

Darting between fallen shelters, Kyle timidly looked back at Lonnie and Rogelio. 

The group had been avoiding the main paths, to what looked like Rogelio’s extreme annoyance. (Alice may have been barely over five feet, but he was pushing seven). She’d dart in and out of spaces, every once in a while shooting at the oncoming cadets who hadn’t gotten it in their mind that they were done for in a matter of minutes. Though, thankfully, there seemed to be less of them than they’d expected.

Which, of course, was when they rounded a corner to find Octavia and a small squadron. 

Come on, Kyle.

She glared at their retreating party, one yellow eye flashing with anger. “Where do you think you’re going?” Her gaze flickered over to Alice. “Who’s she?”

Lonnie stepped forward to fight, stopped only by Alice’s hand hovering over her arm.

“It’s fine, I’ve got this.” 

Eyes snapping open with a powerful intensity, she flicked her hands forward in a circular motion. Octavia looked like she was about to laugh before they felt the ground tremor beneath them. Expression laced with fear, Kyle watched as her being hummed with power, electricity, crackling golden chains shot forward, tracing the edges of the squadron, dirt flickering in and out with stone. A curious smile tracing her lips, she curled her wrist around before dropping it. 

All at once, the floor dropped out from under them, Octavia barely getting the chance to get proper balance before she fell. Eyes wide, Lonnie ran to the edge.

“Where did they go?” 

Approaching the edge himself revealed an empty pit, the stone floor--and any of the people who should have inhabited it-- gone. 

“Somewhere else.” Royal winced “I wanted to get them out of here, and a tunnel seemed the best way to do that.”

Rogelio grunted and Lonnie nodded with him. “How is that supposed to be a tunnel?”

“It was, temporarily,” curling her fingers in with a halo of flickering gold, soil began to fill the miniature chasm, roughly shuddering in and out. “Reality is a fickle thing, it takes effort to manipulate it in the ways I want.” Ground now solid in front of them, she stepped forward. “I would have tried to do that with us, except for the fact that I don’t have the best control where it ends up.” She grimaced. “More like, I’ve never been able to guarantee anything other than solid ground. Tried it with Dodie once and she ended up in Albania. It’s fuzzy.”

“You're insane.” Terror flickered through Lonnie’s expression. 

“Oh, yes,” Alice nodded, “that's a definite possibility.” 

Both Rogelio and Lonnie turned to him in disbelief. He shrugged and followed behind her.

“How much farther, do you think?”

“There should be a door right about here.” She scanned the wall. “At least, the map said there’d be.” 

“You mean here?” A few feet away, Lonnie pointed at a doorway.

“That’d be it!” Alice bounded over. “How do we get in?” 

“Not sure.” Kyle squinted at the dusty keypad next to it. “No one’s really allowed here. Could you hack it?”

“I think I’ve got something better.” Hefting her gun over her shoulder like a bat, she slammed it into the controls. When nothing happened, she rolled her eyes and hit it harder, electricity crackling around the broken buttons. With a shudder, the door heaved itself open. 

“Poifect.” Grinning, she stepped over the pile of rubble that had collected at the edge and continued forward.

“Unbelievable.” Rolling her eyes, Lonnie followed with Kyle and Rogelio close behind.

Kyle had never been in Hordak’s sanctum. Or met Hordak at all. While Adora and Catra could get away with messing with Shadow Weaver any once in a while, it was pretty clear that encroaching on Hordak’s personal space would guarantee you a painful, bloody end. Still, as his gaze traced the ceiling, he’d expected more than this. 

The entire room seemed to be a shell of its former glory, broken equipment scattering the ground, a few heavy beams collapsed on top of one another in one corner. An entire section of a wall was gone, melted by the looks of it. 

“I didn’t think his fight with Catra was that big.” Next to him, Lonnie was equally starstruck. “What happened?”

“My guess would be the result of repressed emotions, miscommunication, trauma, and straight up lying.” Standing in the center, light fell around Alice in shafts. She looked even smaller and more delicate, breakable looking up at the tall, arching ceilings, an almost angelic halo surrounding her. Shaking her head, her brow furrowed, the spell breaking and she reverted back, chaos once again swirling around her every breath. “That’s not important. Can you guys hear that?”

He blinked. “Hear what?” 

“That--can’t you hear it?” She began to pace, hands cupping her head as her breathing quickened. “It’s someone--I think, I-I--I don’t know, shut up!”

“We’re not talking.” Lonnie deadpanned, giving Kyle an exasperated look.

“Not you-everything.” Her nails dug into her temples. “I could figure this out if everyone would shut up!” Jerking her hands away Kyle felt the room still, hush into an eerie quiet. Next to him, Rogelio grasped at his throat, trying to say something. When he tried to speak, he found he couldn’t.

For once in its existence, the Fright Zone was silent.

The only thing he could hear was Alice's heavy breathing, kaleidoscope eyes wide as they scanned the area, horrified at her own power, until-

A cry echoed from the corner of beams, young, broken.

And everything reverted back.

They only had a moment to register the return of the noise, once again falling onto the space, seeping into every crack in the ground, every abandoned corner with the familiar clunky rhythm, before she tore across the sanctum, jumping onto a smooth beam, boots sinking into instantly created steps, the same metallic energy bouncing off it. She climbed higher and higher, peering down from the top. “Someone’s down there, one second.”

Kyle was about to respond when she stepped off, freefalling out of sight. 

“Alice!” 

“What the hell?” They ran towards the pile. “What do you think you're doing?”

“I’m good!” A hand appeared, a ways up. Leaning on another one of the beams, Alice peered into the mess of deeper shrapnel. “He’s not, poor thing.” She reached in, before pulling a hand away quick. “Poor bity thing.”

“I get why you’re friends with Kyle.” Lonnie sighed. “Both of you keep messing around and-” she stopped.

Alice had reextended her arm, an odd sort of melody trailing from her lips. Ancient, haunting, unsettlingly familiar, as if it had been weaved into the origins of life. Delicately pulling her hand back, she paused. 

A moment later, a similar melody responded, voice raspy and small as if it hadn't been used in an exceedingly long time. As she pushed a heavy plate of metal out of the way, a little blue-green creature crawled towards her.

Everyone knew of Hordak’s imp, an annoying winged creature whose ability to mimic (or record, they weren't sure) other voices had led to death and overall chaos throughout the rest of the Horde. 

“Come here,” she scooped the imp into her arms and tore at a sheet that’d been draped across a different collapsed experiment, singing softly. Folding the cloth, she tied it across her back, letting him slip into the pouch. “He’s got a broken wing I think. That monster left him for dead.”

“So?” Lonnie gestured to the doorway. “We need to go.”

“I couldn’t just leave him there.” Hefting her gun in one hand, she began to maneuver out of the maze. 

“What were you speaking?” Kyle winced as she fell to the ground, arms tightly wrapped around the precious package, concrete sinking under her boots, hardening again once she balanced herself. 

“Faerie.” She took his hand and stepped over what looked like it had once been a broken machine. “I don’t think he really understands english, or Etherian, or whatever you want to call it.” She smiled down at him tenderly. “He’s fae, like me.”

“Like you---whatever.” Lonnie rolled her eyes. “We’ve got to go.” Rogelio nodded, grunting in agreement.

“I know.” She smirked. “I got you here, didn’t I?” Taking aim at the panel, she pulled the trigger of her gun, a shower of sparks flying as the door shuddered open. “After you?” 

Lonnie peered through, baton at the ready. “There’s nothing here.” 

“What?” Alice leaned over below her. “Yeah there is.” Darting underneath her arm, she ran in the empty corridor. “We’re here!”

“That’s not a ship.”

The four of them found themselves face to face with a deserted hall, deserted, except for the blue box at its center. A lightbulb shone from the top, the only light amid the wreckage, barely revealing the word “Police” as it flickered ominously. 

“Is this some sort of trick?” Lonnie aimed her baton at the other girl warily.

She only shook her head. “No trick. This is our way out.”

“How?” Kyle’s brow furrowed.

Grasping a handle, she grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s bigger on the inside.”

~~~

Kyle really wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting with Alice’s way out.

Previously, he’d only happened to encounter ‘Jack’ who seemed to travel via technical bracelet and the seduction of literally anything that moved.

This was,

Certainly different.

Alice barely had a moment to step through the door before she was enveloped in a hug by the excited blonde girl. 

“You’re here!”

“Easy, Jenny.” Alice maneuvered her way out of her grasp. “I really don’t want to break the baby.”

She paused. “They baby? Oh,” her eyes fell on the sling, “the baby!” 

“His wing’s broken I think. It looks like he got trapped while the room was being destroyed, poor thing.” Stepping up the ramp, she gave the rest of them space to enter into a room that was way too big for what it should have been.

They were in the same room as the call, heavy beams supported by a large glowing tube in the center. A platform held an octagonal control board, stemming off into other directions that opened into other rooms. Circles lined the walls, though for what purpose, Kyle had no idea. 

“I can help!” Rubbing her hands together, Jenny’s palm began to glow with a faint orange light. 

“No!” From the other side of the panel, the floppy-haired Doctor stopped her, coat flapping behind him. “Regeneration energy isn't a toy, Jenny.” 

“Yeah,” Alice nodded, “Blair can take a look at him when we get home. Do you think you could give him something to ease the pain, though? He seems pretty tired.” 

“Of course!” Scooping him out of the sling, she muttered a phrase in the same, melodic language. “I can put him in one of the spare rooms. Wrap him up nice and cozy.” A smile spread across her face as the imp giggled.

“And you?” Now turning to them, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re Kyle and--the other two?”

Kyle nodded quickly. Lonnie and Rogelio looked equally terrified.

“Sorry, I don’t know too much about the show, busy and all that.”

“Jenny’s wanted to watch it for months now.” Donna, the redhead, leaned over the controls. 

“And instead we saved Poosh, again. How much time will you need?” He regarded Alice now, face still poised in an adventurous smirk. 

“Fifteen, twenty maybe?” She winced. “I’m not really sure.”

“Fifteen what?” Hands still clutching the railing, Kyle looked up at her. “Where are you going?” 

“I’ve got one more thing that I have to check before we can go.” Grimacing, she straightened her coat. “It won’t take long.” Hefting her gun up, she stepped towards the door, stopped by the Doctor.

“What are you doing with that?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s an active war zone out there, I got it from the Sontaran.”

“Americans.” He shook his head and sighed. “I’ve been in plenty of active war zones without a gun.” His nose wrinkled in disgust at the final word. 

“Is that a sontaran gun?” Jenny reappeared at the edge of the platform. “Can I try?”

“No!” He held up a finger. “No one is going anywhere with any guns.”

“Fine.” Shrugging it off her shoulder, she leaned against the railing. “Can I have your screwdriver then?”

His expression didn’t change.

“Fine, then.” Letting out a sigh that would rival the princess of Salineas’ she stalked towards the edge. “If I die because I couldn’t assemble a cabinet, then that’s on you.”

“Works with me.” 

“You are incorrigible.”

“Wait-” Kyle cut her off before she could open the door again. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” 

“Me?” She held a hand to her chest. “Always.”

“Okay,” his eyes darted across the platform, “if you're sure.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “I’m never sure, darling.” Letting go with a sense of finality, she put forward a weak smile. “See you in a minute.”

The door opened.

And she was gone.

~~~

“Everything you’ve been working for will be destroyed.” Catra couldn’t help the broken terror on her face as Double Trouble towered over her, face contorted into a menacing glare, before melting into a smile. “Anyway, I’d better be out of here before that happens.” Drawing a finger down to tap her on the nose, they smirked. “And scene.”

And there was nothing she could do as she watched them walk away, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

She had failed.

“Are you done?” She could barely register the voice, noticing Double Trouble stop in their tracks, eyes narrowing as another figure slinked through the hallway, heeled boots clacking against the weak, metal floors, little dots of gold and silver refracting around her feet. “I mean, it’s a decent monologue, but it’s still a monologue all the same.” Light fractured off a gold diadem, deep red stones blinking in the failing fluorescent lights, a haze of red glittering around her face, lips curled into an expression of disgust. 

“You’re new.” If Double Trouble was concerned, their tone didn't show it. 

“And you’re a disgusting piece of garbage living a despicable little life.”

“Darling,” they tossed their hair over their shoulder icily, “some people are just too perfect to be held in by pronouns.”

“What?” The figure stopped, eyebrows raising in offense. “My sibling is nonbinary and I’ve got a gender fluid godparent. I don’t hate you for your pronouns.” A hand delved into her coat pocket, “I hate you for the duplicitous lowlife you are.”

“Who is this, Kitten?” They glanced at Catra over their shoulder. “You didn’t tell me about a weakling with a crown.”

“That’s your best insult?” Her eyebrows raised. “And props for going to the person you just betrayed for more information, real professional.” 

They rolled their eyes. “As fun as this is, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“I don’t think you do.” The hand came out, flicking to extend a baton. “I’ve got a greater need for you at the current moment.”

“Do you?” Their features began to shift, melting down. “And what do you need from someone like me?”

Blonde hair grew darker, shorter, and their body seemed to shrink to fit Royal’s figure, matching tiaras glinting on the two. Catra watched as her coat flowed from behind, face hidden by a wall of hair. If it was supposed to be a power play, her expression didn’t seem too scared, merely casually perplexed.

“Better than I wouldn't have expected.” She shrugged. “But I guess we can’t all be the best.” 

“What?” They blanched, turning to the wall to get a reflection. “What’s wrong with it?”

From the reflection, Catra’s eyes widened. While Double Trouble had perfected every person she could have given them, their Royal just looked--off.

Roughly the same figure peered with round eyes, blankly and boringly set. While Royal’s fit into her face, much too old and indecisive, as if they couldn’t decide on who she really was. Her expression had lost some of the unearthly mischievous chaos it always seemed to have, ears no longer sharply pointed, but almost unseen. They looked like Royal, yes, but an off-color Royal, one who looked entirely, oddly human, natural.

It was tantalizingly revolting.

 “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not surprised,” the real Royal leaned over next to them. “My kind doesn’t exist in either of the realities you’re from.”

They turned to her. “Either?”

“Right!” A pair of handcuffs glinted in her hands for a moment before they connected with Double Trouble’s right wrist and a nearby pipe. Before they had the chance to react, she’d stabbed something into their leg. 

“What the hell was that?”

Pulling the item close to her to get a better look, she grinned, blood sloshing in the miniature tube. “That was what I needed you for.” Stowing it in a pocket, she pulled out her screen, giving them a once over with her camera, red beam flickering across their form. “And that was a scan.” She rolled her eyes at their bewildered expression. “I’ve got some tests to run, but you’re good for now, except-” Tossing it into her left hand, Catra watched the baton collide hard with their side. “That’s for being a dick to someone in the middle of a mental breakdown.”

“So that’s how we’re going to play this, darling.” A smile glinted as their form began to shift. “Why don’t we make this fun, then?” Catra watched in horror as her own blue and golden eyes met Royal’s. 

“How about we don’t.” Glaring, her fingers curled into her palm, sparks flickering off her fingers onto the metal walls. In disbelief, Catra watched as Double Trouble’s form contorted--forcefully reverting back, their head whipping forward, stunned.

“How did you do that? No one does that but me.”

She shrugged. “Your illusions are decent enough, but they’re really no match for the real deal.” Catra practically swore she could see the chaos behind her eyes. “Nice job at second place.”

“I’m second place?” They scoffed. “I’ve been second to no one my entire life and I’m sure as hell not starting now.”

“My God, you're such a Heather Duke, you're even wearing green. Tell me, does your reliance on mimicking others make up for your own lost sense of personality and personal ownership over who you are?” She looked them up and down. “Or is that just the cheap bleached hair?”

“Excuse me?” 

She sighed. “It’s just that living life as others could reflect poorly on your understanding of your own identity, rather treating every aspect of your life like a performance, keeping any other non-performative traits hidden from view.” Making direct contact with Catra, she rolled her eyes. “It’s an easy enough question to answer.”

“You two really know each other?” Their gaze flitted back and forth. “Kitten, why didn’t you tell me?”

“That’s not important.” She smirked. “What is important is the fact that you haven’t left those handcuffs despite being a self proclaimed ‘escape artist extraordinaire.’”

“It’s simple, really,” they jerked at the metal bonds, figure melting in and returning back every few seconds, Royal’s fingers sparking, trying to hide her hand in the folds of her coat. Her expression filled with childlike wonder as if she was experimenting with almost limitless powers she hadn’t known. “What did you do?”

“Oh, right.” She winked cheekily. “I don’t want you out of them.”

Their brow furrowed, glaring down at her. “What’s this, then?”

“This is me reminding you that I'm the queen, here. The queen of the castle,” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, coat floating around as she spun. “Now get down.”

They raised their eyebrows. “What?” 

She fingered the baton with a sense of quiet fury. “I get that your whole betrayal was necessary, but there are better ways that it could have been handled.” She gestured to Catra. “Did you consider that blaming someone for their own abuse could have lasting, or better yet, permanent consequences?” 

“That’s where all the fun comes from, darling.” They jabbed a finger in her chest. “Besides, she did a good portion of it on her own.”

Catra watched them, tears forming as she whimpered.

Royal turned to her, eyes softening with pity, before meeting Double Trouble’s again with a fiery gaze. “I think we’d better take this somewhere private.” Stomping her foot, Catra watched a thin, white line spiral around them before opening down. 

And then they were gone.

~~~

Double Trouble would say, with certainty, they were never surprised. 

They’d reached a point where they could say, for certain, they were in complete control.

Until this.

Somehow, they’d fallen into a completely different part of the Horde.

Or they might've just fallen into the room below. 

If it wasn't interesting looking, they really never saw the point in remembering it.

That was something they were sorely regretting as they clattered down, (blondie, unfortunately, a good deal more gracefully).

Almost as if she was used to falling out of strange holes onto uneven ground.

“You’ve got me alone now, what exactly is it you want?” They got up in what they hoped would be a suave manner.

She rolled her eyes and readjusted her crown. “I’d like to go full Heather Chandler on you, but that’s not an option.”

“Oh?” They raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I'd like to take a croquet mallet to some easily breakable parts, only healthcare is awful here, so you wouldn’t be able to heal in time to go full smurf.” Pulling out her phone, she didn’t even look at them. “You’re despicable, you know.”

“And you’re not?”

They enjoyed the moment she took, clearly they’d hit a nerve. “The baton was,” she took a breath, “unfounded and while you definitely deserved it, I shouldn’t have done it. I apologize. Even if you are a war profiteer with no morals, you didn’t outright attack me.”

“Ew.” Their fact contorted in disgust. “Why would I want morals?”

“Don’t make me hit you again.”

“And here I thought you apologized.” 

“And I’ll apologize after I hit you again, too.” Absentmindedly twirling the baton in one hand, they watched as it seemed to shift into a red croquet mallet before shifting back into the dark tube of plastic.

“You seem to have made up your mind about me.” They began pacing dramatically. “Only, I know next to nothing about you.”

“Good.”

“Good? Relationships go both ways, princess.” 

“Not a princess.”

“And?” When they didn’t get a response, they stopped. “Can I get a name?”

“Nope,” she put extra emphasis on the ‘p,’ “information is precious and you’ll just sell me out to Prime.”

“Who’s Prime?”

“New villain. Hordak’s become too sympathetic, a portal’s opening, yada yada yada. New bad guy for a last hurrah.” She seemed to check the top of her screen anxiously. 

“And you’ve got somewhere to be after this, I assume?”

“I’ve got a few minutes before Catra’s going to run into the hubris girl, then I can get out of here.”

They raised an eyebrow. “You’re actually going to help her?”

“I couldn’t before.” She shrugged. “I’d like to help with what I can now.”

“You know,” They toyed with a strand of hair, “I could use a ride too.”

“You do know I detest you, right?”

“Less than Catra?”

She rolled her eyes. “A toxic environment with which those inside are forced to fight to survive combined with both emotional and physical abuse creates monsters out of everyone. Trust me, I know.”

“You know someone from the Horde who’s emotionally stable?” They let out a low whistle. “I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Not the Horde,” a shadow crossed over her face, “something worse.”

“Do tell, darling.” They leaned down to her eye height. “I’m all ears.”

“Didn’t you have somewhere to go?”

“You’re not going anywhere? Why should I?”

She scoffed. “I have a ride out of here.” Checking the time again, her lips formed into a tight line. “Once I get Catra, that is.”

“And if I was to stop you?” Their face twisted into a menacing glare. 

“I doubt you’d be that stupid.” Rolling her eyes, she brushed hair out of her eyes. “You can’t be crueler than my own mind and you’ve seen what I can do.”

“Limited sense of self-worth, then?”

“Listen.” Putting the phone down, she met their eyes, face jarringly devoid of emotion. “You want to dissect me like all your other victims? That’s not going to work because I know it all. If you want to hurt me that way, you can’t because I’ve done it all to myself.”

“Nothing to lose, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t you call others that?” 

“I call it out of care, you call others that in the place of peasants.” 

“I’m not the one with the crown.” They leaned down to meet her height. “And I’m not the failure here.”

“What?” For a pleasing moment, her confidence slipped, the familiar look on insecurity flashing across her face before it hardened.

“You said you couldn’t help the precious kitten before, but she’s clearly seen you.” A wicked smile grew. “Which means you’ve been here before even though you couldn’t do anything and, by her reaction, it wasn’t always kindly.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was honest and I did what I could.”

“With your power?” They scoffed. “Whatever you tried to do, it clearly wasn’t enough. She’s broken, she’s ready to end it all, and where are you ?”

“It’s not my job to fix everyone.” She nodded with the statement, more for her gain than theirs. 

Laughing, they slung an arm across her shoulders, revelling as they felt her tense. “You can tell yourself that, but it’s not like you’ll believe it. You can’t lie to me, darling. I know too much.”

“Don’t touch me.” Her words came dangerously icy.

“Alright then,” Face filled with mock sympathy, they stepped back, hands in surrender, “You know, I was expecting more from you, you’re just so, disappointing.”

“That--that doesn’t matter.” Her breathing quickened unevenly, checking her clock more furtively. “I’m not here to please you, I’m here to help.”

“And how much help have you actually done?” Their devilish smile broadened as her eyes flushed, and held their genuine fear. “How do you know that you’re not making things worse? I mean,” they shrugged, “the look on kitten’s face when you left, priceless, darling. That’s a look I aspire to create and you made it unintentionally.”

“Go to hell.” The harshness in her voice wavered.

They gestured around the space. “We’re already here.” When they didn’t get a response beside her glare, they began to pace again. “Now, when I first saw you I was expecting a Mary Sue.” Eyes roamed up and down her figure. “You’re dressed like it, after all. What I wasn’t expecting was such a small, insignificant, broken creature.” They licked their lips. “You look like a baby bird with all that. What? You wanted me to give you some better insults, didn’t you?”

She scowled. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Laughter bubbled from their lips as they turned away. “I wanted someone who could compare to me. I don’t know why I couldn’t emulate you, but, honestly, don’t think you’re anywhere near my level, darling.”

“So this is what, all about your ego?”

“What else would it be about?” Swiveling back on their heels, their smirk was met with distraction. Hands cupped around her eyes, her breaths steadied with furious intent. “Aw, did I make you cry?”

“I am a failure,” the hands lowered, eyes flashing angrily, “at least, that’s what I think. But you know what? I’m not the only one in my mind, darling. ” The final word came out with a snarl.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

Brushing hair out of her face she stood straighter. “I meant what I said. You’re just,” she bit her lip, “second degree. Great job at analyzing me, it’s really not that hard when you consider the fact that my brain is an effing nightmare. Break me down all you want, but it’ll be among the easiest things you’ll ever do. I know I’m vulnerable.”

“Where exactly is this going?” They inspected their nails. 

“Everything has a price.” A wicked smile traced her lips. “Here’s your’s, darling. ”

Stamping her foot, they only had a moment to brace themself before they felt the ground shake and soften under them. Eyes opening, they noticed the hall change, floors widened and ceilings raised as the metal floor was replaced with grass, the walls gradually fading into a forest. In the middle of it stood Royal, figure flashing in and out, every so often replacing her small blonde person with a taller woman, dark hair floating around her, green dress skating the edges of the soil as she stepped closer. Schooling their expression, Double Trouble let out a shaky laugh. “Interesting trick, but, really, how will a forest help anything?” 

“Because it's not all I can do.” The area altered again, this time playing cards crept up the walls, the ground littered with black and white squares. Her figure began changing more erratically, flipping between herself, the green woman, and now another, honey-gold hair piled high on her head, deep red gown cascading to the floor. Around them the edges of the scene tinged with electricity. “You've got an impressive skill, your illusions. They’re faerie-based, you know that? All illusions are.” Cocking her head, the scene melted again, wood and vines creeping up the sides of the wall into a deep, mahogany library. Pulling a book from a shelf, the figures flashed in and out erratically. “And I’m the heir to the bloody queen.”

The scenes changed quicker, rooms and areas building themselves around her as she spoke, more women appearing in her place. “I've had four hundred years of waiting filled with broken memories,” a scepter replaced the book in her hands,, “lost love,” her figure shifted again, dirty blonde curls matching a short, blue, waitress uniform, “and fractured minds,” around her, the walls slowed, panels flickering with mirrors, paintings, her person returning to her. They couldn’t help but suck in a breath as they watched the scenes around them. The first woman, perfect face contorted into perfect fear, backed away from a shadowy figure, eyes wincing closed as a hand closed over her mouth, face wrenching up to scream as the other crept up the side of her body like a claw. Each image showed something of the same, the same woman, the same man, the same actions, areas around them changing, their clothes altering, the orders clumsily out of place, before they all concentrated into one perfect mirror, visions flashing around them faster than they could comprehend, until-

Snapping her fingers, the illusions disappeared, feet once again resting on the familiar metal of the Fright Zone floors. They bent over, gasping for breath, only to look up and find an unfazed Royal, eyes calmly scanning her phone screen as if nothing had happened at all. 

Relief breaking over her face, she stowed the item into a pocket, stepping around them with enviable nonchalance. Leaning down to them, eyes cold and lips curled into a terrifying smirk, she cocked her head. 

“Every moment, every day. Are you sure you want to compare, darling?” 

They didn’t respond, wincing their eyes shut until the clicking of her heels disappeared down the hall. Palms gingerly lifting off of the floor, they felt their breathing steady-

Before they tore down the hall.

Double Trouble would say, with certainty, they were never surprised. 

That, most of the time, included the understanding that they were never afraid.

They’d reached a point where they could say, for certain, they were in complete control.

But, barely glancing back over their shoulder, for someone to have that lack of control, that unsteady calm among the chaos with complete serenity.

That was something they could fear.

What had Catra gotten herself involved with?

~~~

“Catra!” She tensed, turning to look back at the direction of the voice.

“What are you doing here?” She glared down at her, ignoring how weak it felt. “I thought you’d left with your new friend.”

Royal slowed her pace as she approached. “What part of ‘duplicitous lowlife’ sounds friendly to you?”

“So you killed them?” She winced at the curiosity in her tone. 

“No,” Royal shook her head, “unfortunately, they’ve got a part to play in the future.”

“That makes one of us.”

“What?” Her breath quickened. “What do you mean by that, Catra?”

“Don’t act so oblivious, of course you know.” She glowered. “You said you knew what was going to happen and it’s pretty clear. I’m not going to make it to the end of, whatever.” A hand trailed down her arm, claws kissing skin, blood beading at the edges of open wounds, tracing her skin in jagged little half-moons. “I’ve gone too far. Ironic,” she rolled her eyes, “I went and did exactly what you told me not to with you ‘analyses.’ Guess I’m even toxic to myself.”

“Catra-” Royal’s tone wavered, revealing the fear behind her words. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” peering out the doorway to the beacon that had previously been Glimmer, she sighed, “Sparkles wasn’t strong enough to do it herself, so it’ll probably be my job. Figures,” she gritted her teeth, “I can’t even get my enemies to stay.”

Gingerly raising a hand to rest on her arm, Royal’s eyes watered, fearful tears beginning to form. “What are you saying?”

“What else is there to say?” She shrugged her off. “Nothing I worked for mattered, a lot like me. I guess--I guess Shadow Weaver was right. I’m really nothing,” she ignored her own eyes watering, hot, heavy tears tracing down her cheeks, clean paths through the dust and grime that clung to her, “all I do is hurt people.”

“I was worried you were going to say something like that.” She began to play with the edges of her sleeves, bringing a hand up to quickly wipe her eyes. She only did that when she was anxious. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say something like that.”

Catra laughed humorlessly, her expression a shell of lost happiness. “Planned for this, have you? Planned for me to realize how I’ve failed, how I’ve broken everything I’ve ever touched, ever loved?” Her voice cracked at the final word, expression growing somber. “Just tell me, is Adora going to be okay?”

“Adora’s going to be fine,” slipping a hand into her pocket, Royal softened, “and so are you.”

Quickly and fluidly, she pulled the familiar silver pistol out of her jacket, giving Catra mere moments before she felt a capsule make contact with her side and her eyes flutter shut. 

She felt two arms catch her as she fell, fingers linking around her in support as they fell, fell, fell.

And then everything disappeared. 

~~~

After the amount of time spent in the Horde, Lonnie had come to believe that nothing could phase her. 

Acid flakes, fine. Catra’s constant erratic behavior, sure. That weird chick who lived in the vents, no problem. Kyle randomly disappears, he’ll turn up soon enough.

But the box?

No. Goddamn. Way.

Next to her, Kyle was anxiously gripping the railing, Rogelio placing a comforting arm around his shoulder. The blonde, who was too much like Adora for her own taste, was currently balancing on one on the other side of the giant tube, feet resting against the console while her father chastised her. 

“You’re not driving us back!”

“Why can’t I?” She pouted. “River says I’m better than you.”

He rolled his eyes. “River needs to stay out of my TARDIS.”

“Is that any way to speak about your wife, Dad?”

“She’s not my wife.” He seethed. “Not yet, at least! Not this body, not this face!”

“You’re just jealous she’s able to steal it without you noticing.” She leaned over, resting a hand on her fist. “And that she’s better at it.”

“She’s not-” he glared. “I know what you’re doing, Jenny.”

“Do you?” Her mischievous smirk rivaled Alice’s.

“Are you alright?” The other woman (Donna?) leaned against the console, her smile tinged with sadness, as if she had seen all of this before. 

“Yeah.” Kyle turned to face her, his own smile shaky. “Does it normally take this long?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard to say, every mission is different.” Noticing the way his expression drooped, she placed an arm on his shoulder. “She’s Alice, you don’t need to worry, she’s taken on much worse.”

“Does,” he bit his lip, trying to think of the words, “does she have a thing about touch?”

“Has she not hugged you before?” Donna raised her eyebrows. “You’ve known each other for what? A year?”

“Two years--It’s not that.” He shook his head, hands playing with the faded pink elastic around his wrist. She must have given him that. “It’s just, she seems so friendly and affectionate but it took a year for her to feel comfortable around me.” He gestured to his spindly frame. “And I'm me.” 

“It’s not you,” her expression held a mixture of bittersweet, “Alice has--she’s been hurt in a way that,” she paused, “a way that makes her wary around people. Especially men.”

Kyle nodded blankly. “What do you mean-”

“Got a call from Alice!” Blondie vaulted off the rail. “She wants us at the same place.”

Her father mirrored the suit, the same wild grin on his face. “You’re going to want to hold on. Donna?”

“Coming, skinny!” She rolled her eyes, giving Kyle one last look of reassurance. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready. Just let us know where you decide to go so we can drop you off.”

“What?” As the alien hum of machinery began, Lonnie stared at Kyle. “What does she mean ‘where we decide to go?’”

He grasped the railing, knuckles almost white with the pressure. “Alice said when she was finally able to get us out of the Horde we could either stay at a safe place with her for a couple weeks or they could just drop us off somewhere else.”

“And you want to go with her, don’t you?”

“It’d just be two weeks,” he looked between her and Rogelio, pleadingly, “and are we even sure wherever we’d go would be safe?”

“I don’t trust her.” Her own knuckles gripped the railing as the ship drastically

 tipped to the side. “No one helps anyone unless they want something out of them. How do we know this wouldn’t be the Horde all over again?”

“That’s why we should go,” he held up a hand for emphasis only for him to almost careen over the rail, the back of his shirt caught by Rogelio, “all we’ve ever known is the Horde. How are we supposed to adjust if we don’t have examples of what’s healthy?”

Her response was cut off as the ship stopped, the trio falling to the floor as Jenny ran across, wrenching the door open. “Alice!”

“I did it!” Lonnie noticed Kyle’s immediate relieved expression at the sound of her voice knuckles loosening. “I opened down and I thought of where I wanted to be and I’m there!” Jenny cheered, almost causing her to miss Alice’s next remark. “Could you get Donna? She’s heavier than she looks.”

Cautiously, Lonnie peered through the door to get a better look. Alice’s hair was wild, floating around her with a complete absence of gravity, eyes bright with chaos, her body seemed to pulse with energy. Crouching near the ground, her arms latched protectively around a figure, almost artistically unconscious. 

Matted, dark hair covered her face, mask off-kilter, barely balancing on her forehead. Her jumpsuit had been badly torn, cuts and abrasions littering her skin, dark in contrast to Alice’s almost ghostly pale arms. Lonnie’s eyes narrowed as Jenny and Donna took Catra from her grasp, carrying her into the TARDIS.

“What’s she doing here?” 

The question came out at the same time as the Doctor, both wearing equally bewildered looks. Brushing her hair out of her face, Alice stood. 

“She failed the test.”

The Doctor gazed at her skeptically. “The same test made by your godparents? You do know they took eleven years to figure out they’d gotten the wrong Anti-Christ-”

“Doctor Bright helped too.” She brushed past him. “I told you about the contingency.”

He balked. “I wasn’t planning on it getting this bad.”

“Welcome to the Fright Zone.” Her voice came humorlessly as she cupped her head in her hands. “Let’s get out of here, please?”

“So we’re just supposed to be okay with this?” Lonnie gestured to Catra. “Where the hell are you taking her?”

“The tree--my home.” Alice raised her head out of her hands calmly. “She needs help. We’ll get her out, give her some time, and have Jack drop her back five minutes later. No one will know the difference.”

“She’s a monster. This war, this destruction! It might not be all her, but she had a hell of a hand making it happen.”

“She’s traumatized.” Alice’s voice bit back, unnaturally harsh. “She’s been abused and forced into a setting where you have to fight to survive. If you don’t process your emotions properly, you won’t see past them and you’ll screw up.”

“Screw up?” Lonnie raised her eyebrows. “We’ve been on our feet for weeks, terrified she’ll snap and slit our throats and you want to help her?” 

“No one--at least no one here is past redemption.” She glared harshly, standing taller on the ramp, fingers crackling with gold. “Catra’s done some terrible things, but she’s not permanently gone. If she gets help, if she sees healthy dynamics, she’ll realize how toxic everything is here, she can heal.”

“Why the hell do you care? You’ll show her to some shrink and she’ll suddenly get better?” Despite Kyle’s hand on her arm, warning, she stepped forward. “We’ve been suffering under her thumb for years, give me one good reason we shouldn’t leave her and let the rebellion deal with her.”

“Because she was going to kill herself!” 

Silence seemed to fall over the ship, Jenny and Donna watching from a distance with the Doctor. Beside her, Kyle and Rogelio shared a look. Alice continued icily, voice wavering. 

“I know what it looks like, the way their eyes seem to glass over, the way they spit out their words, the way their breathing changes when they look at a temporary problem and decide on a permanent solution and I never want to see it again.”

“Still, why help her? After everything she’d done doesn’t she deserve it” Kyle gasped quietly behind her, but she ignored it. 

“Because that’s been me.” Her eyes narrowed, scowling behind the sadness, eyes watering by still flaring dangerously. “I know what it’s like because it’s been me. I’ve wanted that solution.” She blinked back tears, choking out the words. “You are children, taken and forced into god knows what, and I can’t relate there, but I know that feeling. That stupid, hopeless, feeling, okay? No one is destined for despair and no one is completely terrible, no matter what they think. You’ve lived your life fighting for everything, no choice, no chance to rest.” Tears fell down her cheeks, soft silvery trails. “Catra’s been abused and tortured until she’s become everything she’s always feared. She’s never gotten the chance to rest, to pause, to breathe, so she goes on autopilot, hiding everything behind anger and pain, lashing out because she can’t afford to let it show. If she keeps going like this, if all of you keep going like this, the damage will be permanent.” Shrugging her off cooly, she walked over to the console. “You’ve all done what you can to survive. Now, all of you deserve a chance to just live. If you don't want to, that's up to you, but you all deserve a chance.”

The silence hung heavy in the air until Kyle broke it, gingerly walking over and wrapping his arms around her. Delicately, she leaned into his embrace, nodding her head to the Doctor. “I’m ready to go home, now.”

“Alright,” he nodded to the other three, “and you?”

Kyle looked back furtively before nodding to him. “Us too.”

“If you say so.” Placing a hand over Alice’s, he looked over to meet Lonnie’s gaze, still blankly trying to comprehend what had happened. “You’re going to want to hold on.”

“Yeah,” weaving out of his embrace, Alice kissed Kyle’s cheek. “It’s going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.”

“Would you like to help, highness?” Eyes twinkling with hope for happiness, he turned his attention back to Alice.

Furtively brushing tears out of her eyes, she grinned, nose crinkling as she gripped the lever. “Always, Doctor.”

“Alright then.” Levity seemed to flow back into their expressions as they pulled it back, Donna and Jenny on the other side of the panel, faces alight in a proud, loving manner. He turned to her, the word leaving their lips at the same time. 

“Allons-y!”

Chapter Text

The fifth time?

The fifth time was definitely different.

(Location, for example)

~~~

Looking out to the vastness before her, Glimmer let her eyes glaze over. Space hadn’t exactly changed since the last time she saw it.

She couldn't tell if her window was a blessing or a curse, some cruel punishment from Prime reminding her just how far away she was from her friends. 

Just how trapped she was.

Just how alone she was. 

She couldn’t tell how long she’d spent staring out, but, did it really matter?

She was sure he’d noticed by now. After finding little else in the room to occupy her time, she’d spent all of her waking hours looking out to the great beyond or pressing an ear to the lime-colored barrier in the hopes of hearing familiar footsteps.

God, how desperate was she if she was missing Catra?

Glimmer had never been very good at being alone. Even when she was young, she’d spent time that would be empty for others in the company of Bow or trailing behind her mother.

Tears began to obscure her vision, heavy pearls distorting her already abstract view. Squeezing her eyes shut, she let out a breath.

She wasn’t going to cry.

Crying, embarrassingly enough, had become the closest thing to a hobby as she mulled over the hopelessness of her plight. Nights without sleep would be taken over by the feeling of hot trails snaking their way down her cheeks and onto her pillow as she willed herself to be silent. 

She didn’t want to give him the chance to see her vulnerable.

For all of Catra’s faults, she admired her enemy for her emotionless appearance; steely breaths and bored eyes as Prime threatened the destruction of the planet she had tried so hard to conquer.

Emotionless, except-

Glimmer couldn’t quite comprehend  the meaning behind the way her claws had dug into the table when Prime showed them Adora, panting as she dodged one of his drones. 

That was the Adora she hated.

The Adora she had went as far as destroying reality itself to beat.

Was it possible she could care for her?

Shaking her head, she brushed the thought aside. Catra was probably using it as a manipulation technique, or, perhaps, she was as lonely as Glimmer was.

No.

Catra was a monster.

She had indirectly killed her mother and done everything in her power to take away the little the rebellion had.

She was just a sick creature who had gotten bored after being banned from approaching Glimmer’s cell and taunting her with her feelings of so-called ‘freedom.’ 

As far as Glimmer knew, there was no freedom in space.

Delicate trembling knocked her out of her stupor; a close, comforting feeling she hadn't experienced since she’d been taken; the sort of subtle electrification of raw, natural, power.

Magic.

Looking over her shoulder, she watched as imperfections began to dot the smooth, white floor. Sparks of brass and gold flitting about until it filled into a round shape. The ground disappeared, sifting away like sand into an iridescent darkness, riddled with light. 

Back pressing against the wall, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the colorful darkness growing, spinning faster and faster. Strands wove in and out of each other in an intricate pattern, breaking away as a pair of boots hurled through them.

She barely had time to process the sight before a person followed, the edges beneath her cinching away at the mysterious substance, the ground returning to pristine white.

The person, on the other hand, was nowhere near as lucky, her momentum causing her to crash into the ceiling before flopping down on the bed with a groan, a black backpack following to the floor as the strap slipped out of her hand, bright colored sentences trailing across in a vibrant contrast. 

“Ow.” Face contorted in a grimace, Glimmer peered over to get a better view. A high blonde ponytail, surrounded by a rose colored tiara framed her face, black coat undone to reveal the bright pink shirt underneath it with the words ‘K. Howard’ above a crown, cropped off at her midriff with a dark colored piece of elastic. A black skirt splayed out above her knees, paired with white and pink knee-socks that shared a similar message she couldn’t quite see. Eyes snapping open, the girl stood up, blinking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Space, space is good. But, where in space? And what space?” A pair of chaotically excited eyes landed on Glimmer, an equally chaotic smile growing. “Good, you’re Sparkles. That means I’m in the right place, right?” Leaning over, she peered out at her reflection in the glowing green barrier. “I mean, I should be.”

“Who are you?” Eyes narrowing, the statement was less of a question and more of a declaration. 

Swiveling back to her on her heels, she bowed. “Consider me a friend. Apologies, majesty, I can’t get you out yet. I can, however, get you something to eat if you want.” She glared at a screen in her hand. “I’m pretty sure the bastard’s near the kitchen, or a kitchen, I honestly don’t know.”

Glimmer blinked. “What?”

“Adipose. Wandered off from the nursery and now I need to track them down in an enemy ship.” She rolled her eyes, vaguely gesturing to a small screen in her hand. “Poor thing’s just a baby but that doesn’t make him any less of a bastard.”

“How did you get in here--I don’t understand--”

“Afraid you’ll have to get used to that, love.” She winked. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you from the kitchen? It should be no trouble.” Stowing the screen back into a pocket, she shrugged the backpack over her shoulder.

“No?”

“If you’re sure. Not sure if I’ll see you again here or somewhere else.” Head cocked in a peculiar expression, she squinted at the wall as if trying to come up with an unreachable thought. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, but I don’t know when that’ll be for you, or me.” She laughed. “Those two things never seem to line up the way I want them to.”

“What doesn’t line up?”

“Time. And reality for that matter.” She said it with such simplicity, Glimmer wondered (not for the first time) if the figure in front of her was a figment of her imagination.

(Or insane).

(Or some combination of the two).

“Anyway, I need to leave before the asshole finds me. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Though, you might want these.” Pressing a paper packet into her hand and bowing again, she gave her a final wink before turning to the green barrier. “Keep them hidden, though.”

“Wait you can’t--” Glimmer stared at her.

Whispering a couple words under her breath, the neon green flickered. The bright color waned and rippled, allowing her to step through. Her boots sounded against the perfectly toned floors, the sound echoing down through the halls until it died out.

She just stepped through?

Is that an option? 

Abandoning the package at the bed, she took a few tentative steps towards the angry green wall. Reaching a hand out, she winced at the familiar electric buzz.

How the hell did she do that?

Gaze falling again to the object on her bed, she picked up the small envelope. Lifting the flap, a pair of soft objects fell onto her open palm. 

“Ear plugs?”

Seriously, what was going on?

~~~

Catra smirked at another pair of clones dashing down the hall. While it had been annoying at first, the alarm had lessened into a dull ache in her ears.

Of course, they didn’t tell her anything, but by the worried muttering, it was clear something was going on in the kitchen.

And whatever that something was went against the glory of Prime’s divine plan.

She’d originally assumed it had been some sort of mechanical malfunction. That was the most likely culprit for disturbance in the Horde.

The Princess Alliance had nothing on Hordak’s shitty infrastructure.

That had been the nice thing about Entrapta. While Hordak never seemed to notice, she’d reinforced the vents and her constant tinkering had actually helped smooth out what Hordak refused to look into, claiming it was “beneath him.”

Of course, the only reason Entrapta’s inventions had stopped was because Catra herself had stabbed her in the back (tased, more like it) and forced her to be sent to what was most likely her horrible death in Beast Island.

She grimaced at the thought, willing her face to stay impassive as she dug her claws into her arm.

Why the hell did I ever do something like that?

How could I have--

Shaking her head to try to forget the thought, she steadied herself against the wall.

Guilt is a useless emotion if you don’t do something about it.

I’m going to do something about it if it kills me.

I can’t help them if I’m a carcass. 

Which is why I have to stay stable.

Think about what she told you.

Letting her eyes shut, she gave herself a moment to breathe, a familiar face giving her one last reassuring smile before she’d been whisked off.

“I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”

Was this the other side or would it be later?

While she wasn't in direct danger, (mostly--at least for now), Prime was beginning to annoy the shit out of her.

His constant monologuing and despotic plans for greatness were really starting to get on her nerves.

Oh yeah, and he also had Sparkles in a cell, knew at least some version of her feelings for Adora, and was trying to destroy everything she’d ever known.

This seems like exactly the sort of asshole Alice would annoy.

I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up just to spite him.

Wait.

Her eyes opened, wide at the thought. 

What if it wasn’t machine incompetency?

Scanning the hall, orderly and perfectly identical to the others, she tried to find a flaw.

“If you really know what you’re looking for, you can piece it out.”

Fingers dragged along the wall, lightly brushing against its cool shell instead of digging in with her claws.

“But you need to be delicate. You need to be careful. If you’re rash, you’ll miss it.”

Turning around the corner, something flickered in the corner of her eye.

Bingo.

The clones wouldn’t notice it, they wouldn’t even consider looking twice at the seemingly innocent section of wall. 

The clones weren’t Catra.

The clones hadn’t spent a month an a half with someone whose fingers tinged with an indescribable color, too complex to understand.

The clones also hadn’t spent weeks walking through illusions to get to someone, deep in thought in an attempt to remind her that dinner was ready and if she didn't get her ass into the kitchen, Catra was going to eat her dessert.

The clones hadn’t spent a month and a half with her .

Eyes darting across the space, she checked to make sure she was alone before leaning back against the wall. 

If it had been a normal wall, nothing would have changed.

(She’d been half-convinced it was normal and she was losing it).

However, blinking through a ghostly shield, Catra found herself curled up against a barrier, part of the wall opened to reveal a mess of wires.

And her.

Her eyes flickered over to Catra for a moment before looking back at her screen. “Good, I was worried I’d have to go find you.”

“Hello to you too, princess.”

She punched her in the arm, her focus not leaving her work. “Gwen’s the only one who gets to call me that, Applesauce. Now give me a second.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You know, the normal.” She shrugged. “Pissing over tyrannical overlords, being annoying, the backpack.”

“What backpack?” 

Gesturing to the ground, she scrolled through her phone before peering back into the cavity. “There’s something for you in the front pocket.”

Please be food. Please be food. Please be food.

Carefully unzipping the cloth, Catra stared at its contents.

Its contents stared back at her.

“Alice, what the hell?”

“Front pocket, not main pocket.” Alice rolled her eyes. “Main pocket is why I’m here.”

“What is that?” A blobby white hand reached out to her. Eyes wide, she zipped it back up, only now noticing the netted top. “Do you have a child in your backpack? Also did you kidnap a child and stick it in your backpack?”

She smiled, rummaging around in the wall for another wire. “I think I’m going to call him Randall.”

“Is that what babies look like?”

“Give it here.” Catra complied and she let her phone hang in the wiring while she opened the front pocket. Extending her a handful of granola bars, she slung it across her back. “Adipose that somehow got off his nursery ship. I feel like the Mandalorian. He shall be my foundling. Won’t you, darling?”

The backpack cooed.

Catra rolled her eyes, ripping one of the bars open. “You make less sense every time I see you.”

“That means I’m doing my job right.”

“What are you still doing here if you got the blob thing?”

“Randall, not a blob thing. And I’m doing this.” She showed her a familiar screen, face bright with mischievous glee. 

Catra’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“I know.” Alice nodded

“How long is that goddamn playlist?”

She shrugged. “As long as Taylor Swift’s entire discography twice, Marina’s entire discography, every musical I could think of and also every movie soundtrack or artist album I could think of.”

Scrolling through the list, Catra groaned. “How much of this is Britney Spears?”

“However much Clint put in.”

“Let me get this straight.” She handed her back her phone.

“You can’t.”

She scowled. “Your master plan is to pull the same shit you did in the Horde, but for a despotic overlord who controls the universe in an iron grip.”

“Yeah.” Pausing a moment, Alice nodded brightly. “That sounds about right.”

“I can’t tell if you’re an idiot or insane.”

“First, I’m quite possibly both of those.” She winked, turning back to her work. “Second, this isn’t the first egomaniacal overlord that I’ve had to deal with. The more you deal with them, the easier it gets to read them, especially when they’re consumed by a fragile ego and sense of toxic masculinity. Hell, Prime is basically a tall Sontaran. Third-”

Catra held up a hand to stop her, willing herself not to laugh. “Prime is basically a what?”

“A tall Sontaran. Weren’t you listening?”

Shaking her head, she steeled herself. “Okay, I’m never getting that image out of my brain. Continue?”

“Third,” connecting the final wire into place, she went to refit the section of wall, “I have a lot of contacts whose life’s work is dedicated to undermining assholes such as him. I called as many people as I could to rework to code as airtight as possible.”

“So your evil plan is to piss him off with your horrible music taste?”

“Not just mine,” she grinned maniacally, “the horrible music taste of everyone I live with.” Realizing the sarcasm, she deflated slightly. “Well, I can’t interfere too much and going Lizzie Borden on the asshole in charge was vetoed.”

“Disappointing.”

“Believe me.” Once innocently happy, her expression darkened. “After what he’s done and is going to do, there’s a lot I’d like to do to him.”

“Some of which he’s doing to me, isn’t he?” She wasn't sure why she said it, it had to be true.

Alice nodded, lip trembling. “And I’m so sorry, if there was anything I could--”

“Hey.” She cut her off. “It’s part of redemption, right? I need to repent and take on the consequences for my actions. It’s the only way I’ll be able to start to forgive myself, right?” She blinked. “Why are you smiling?”

“The way you’ll start to forgive yourself.” In the fluorescent lights, Alice almost seemed to glow, her smile curling up her lips delicately, ethereal eyes bright. “You  said your redemption is for yourself. You didn’t mention anyone else.”

“Well,” she let out a shaky breath, “I can’t control if they forgive me. That’s not why I’m doing this, right? Besides, it’s not like Adora could forgive me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that last part.”

Rolling her eyes, Catra shoved her extra wrappers back in the front pocket, ignoring the movement in the main one. “What’s with the crown?”

“It’s Wednesday.” She said it as if she was obvious.

“But which--” her face flooded with realization. “It’s Howard, right?”

She nodded.

“And you’re going to do something with it, aren’t you?”

“It is my style, you know.”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with it,” her mind danced with the worst possible outcomes meeting the worst possible memories. “I mean--”

“I’m okay, Catra.” She said it so genuinely Catra was inclined to believe her. “ He’s only in my mind. If anyone else touches me without my consent, I’ll just remove an appendage.”

She smirked. “How is it that you always make it sound like castrating when you say that?”

“It’s a skill.” Alice winked. “Though, a useless skill here.”

“I really don’t need to know that information, kid.”

She shrugged, scrolling across her screen. “I just thought it’d be useful to know. Even though they act like annoying cis guys, they don’t have that one inherent weakness.”

“Whatever,” Catra bit back a smile. “It’s nice to talk to someone that isn’t a clone or Sparkles.”

“Yeah.” Alice winced. “She did not seem to be in a great mood when I ran into her.”

Her gaze snapped back. “When you ran into her?”

“I might’ve landed in her cell, it’s no big deal.” The nonchalance in her voice contrasted her glare at her phone. “Come on, age of the geek.”

“You landed in her what ?”

“She doesn’t know I know you. You can play it off as reasonable doubt.”

Catra smirked. “Yeah, you’re not exactly the type of associate I normally have.”

“Though you do have a thing for blondes.” Catra was the one to punch her this time. “Are you seriously going to deny it?”

Sighing, she let her head ball back against the wall. “And I thought I was downplaying how annoying you are in my boredom.”

“I mean, you haven’t tried to kill me in over a year.” Alice grinned. “I must be doing something right.”

“No comment.” She smiled softly before her expression fell. “Anyway, when are you going to leave?”

“Can I kick you?” She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Sure--wait what?” Catra blinked. “How was that part of the question?”

“So you won’t get in trouble, of course.” Stowing it away, she sighed. “I’ve got thirty seconds until it goes off. You’re also going to want these.” From another pocket, she extracted a pair of ear plugs. 

Catra took them, slipping them into a pocket. “Thanks, highness.”

“Hug?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

She grinned, wrapping her arms around her. “Your secret’s safe with me. Now,” a wicked glint appeared in her eye, “for the dramatics.”

Shoving her through the barrier, Catra barely had a moment to comprehend what was happening before a boot hit her chest and she collided with the opposing wall, attracting the attention of a pair of clones. Eyes scanning the space, Alice grinned manically, sound reverberating through the hallway.

All you wanna do

All you wanna do baby.

I think we can all agree, I’m the ten amongst these threes.

“I mean, she’s not wrong.” Tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, she winked.

All you wanna do

All you wanna do baby.

And ever since I was a child I’d make the boys go wild

A clone stepped forward. “You will kneel before the light of Horde--”

“Nope.” Cocking an icer, the shot toppled him over.

All you wanna do

All you wanna do baby.

She hit another that tried to run at her, a hand delving into her pocket. 

Take my first music teacher, Henry Manox.

“As fun as this is, I'll have to continue it at a later date.” Around the edges of her feet, the pristine floor disappeared under an uneven crackling of a color she couldn't quite place dancing past into an oblong circle. 

I was young, it’s true, but even then I knew.

Starting at the rim, white clouded into a rich darkness, sinking down past where the floor should have ended, could have ended. 

The only thing you wanna do is...

Winking, she blew them a kiss and leaned back. 

And, for the first time, Catra wasn't dreading when she'd come back. 

Whenever that would be. 

And, she was presented with an even bigger fear.

What happens between now and then?