Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hi, everyone. This fic might sound familiar to you, and it’s because I once deleted this earlier this year. My plan with the story (to write an original story out of it) didn’t quite work out, plans changed, and I felt extremely bad for deleting it.

So, it’s back. Or will be.

I will edit the whole thing and add scenes I originally planned but couldn’t figure out how. This means that the OG chapter count will increase by 1 or 2. To those who already read it, do not worry, you will also find something new within the story.

This is the first instalment to a series, there are other 2. The second has been half-written already prior to deleting the story. I will NOT abandon the story; I want to make it clear. I will finish the series, so don’t worry.

The first chapter will go up by the end of January, or early February, and I plan on uploading new chapters 1 or 2 a week.

Thank you and see you soon!

PS. This announcement will be deleted once the new chapter is up.

Chapter Text

Standing on top of the Sea Gate is euphoric.

Every step, every moment of her life led to this point. As the wind catches into her slick hair, the scars, the screams and the condemning words suddenly gain a purpose. It was worth it. It had to be. 

She was the one who rolled down the Horde flag on the castle and the Sea Gate. It’s the Horde’s machines that cross the gate, it’s her soldiers who conquer the land. The princesses are nowhere to be seen, Adora isn’t here to play the hero, and Shadow Weaver isn’t poisoning her mind anymore. 

This time, Catra stands on the top and it’s only the beginning.

Catra’s chest swells with pride as she watches over the operation below. Skiffs and robots swarm the empty streets, Horde flags dance along the heavy wind from the ocean, and the main campsite stands proudly within the castle’s ground. A ship stands ready by the dock, transporting prisoners back to the Fright Zone. 

She silently pats her shoulder. Her idea and execution of retraining their foot soldiers were proven useful, as they fought adeptly and efficiently against the kingdom’s army. They are, no doubt, also reaping similar results on other fronts in the war. At least Catra advises them they do.

The soldiers are ruthless. Many were before, after all, the Horde brought nothing but destruction, but they were also afraid of magic, useless against it.

Catra made sure her soldiers would never run from a princess again. 

The last time she was here, she returned to the Fright Zone with nothing to show but failure. But now, she took the oceanic kingdom so easily it’s almost laughable. Only if the damned Runestone would be within her grasp. She ransacked the castle, turned every stone and broke every door, but The Pearl is missing.

Her mood soils and she presses her badge. “Any updates on the Runestone?” 

“These damned princesses hid it too well.” Comes the answer from one of her Force Captains. “Could a Runestone be moved?”

“What? They took it with themselves before they left?”

“Could be a possibility, Ma'am.”

“If it's possible to move a Runestone, Entrapta's notes have something on it. Look through them. ” Catra groans and disconnects the call. She takes a deep breath and pushes her hair down. “Calm down Catra. You will find it.” 

She springs down along the gate, the sturdy stone crumbles at the broken edges. Catra lands with ease and walks into the main camp. Her logistics team passes by her as they prepare to load the underwater ships with supplies and weapons. The tent that bears the Horde’s insignia is filled with communication tech that connects them to the Fright Zone and smaller camps around the kingdom, monitors show the progress of the battle happening north of them. A pad sits on the table. 

She looks over a few reports about successful takeovers, the capture of Salinean nobles and runaway military, and discoveries of resistance camps. The last report came 5 minutes ago, from the Force Captain in charge of the attack against the underwater colonies. Catra puts down the pad and leans her hand on the table. The whole Salineas kingdom is projected, red dots show the territories they took. 

“Ma'am, an incoming call from Lord Hordak.”

“Connect us.”

Hordak’s face comes into view, the poor connection downgrads the quality, but the sound comes through nonetheless. “Report.”

Catra bites the inside of her cheeks and straightens her back. “We have successfully overtaken 68% of the kingdom, capturing its nobles and most of the military personnel. The main city is completely under our control and our forces are looking through the castle for any possible hidden passages or dungeons.”

“And the Pearl?”

“Still missing.”

Silence settles between them, and the other soldier’s eyes burn on her skin. Through the past months, the soldier began to see her as the defacto leader of the Horde, reporting everything back to her, and asking for her approval and leadership. Hordak is either too much of an idiot to notice or doesn’t care. 

Catra half expects a rage from Hordak, some degrading words, but what comes is a thoughtful hum and a sigh.

“That’s fine-”

“Fine?” Catra bites into his words. “It isn’t fine. ” She growls.

Hordak’s stare hardens and Catra mimics him. “Salineas is the Horde’s, Force Captain Catra. You can find that rock later. Our priority is conquering the remaining kingdoms and capturing the princesses before Lord Horde Prime arrives. Assign someone to the task, and return to the Fright Zone.”

“I would like to handle it myself.”

“Return.” The word rolls off his tongue slowly and with a promise of punishment for further disobedience. “The plan must go on. I expect you back by sundown.”

“The poison is not yet ready, and the fire is still under trial.” Catra hurries before Hordak disconnects the call. “Rushing the plan would jeopardize its success. We can’t attack Plumeria, nor the Snows just yet.”

Hordak’s red eyes glow with anger. While the soldier is visibly shaken, Catra stands with her back straight and eyes on the monitor. “You had 3 months to perfect the poison.”

“It is perfect.” She hisses. “We simply need to mass produce it to make the effect permanent.”

“How long?”

“A month.”

Hordak’s fist collides with the armrest of his throne. “We don’t have a month!”

“If we attack Plumeria with the premature poison, deviating from the plan, the siege will likely fail. I’m not ordering my soldiers to start something pointless.”

“ Your soldiers?”

“Figure of speech.” Catra gestures with her hand. “Etheria will be the Horde’s, you don’t need to worry about that. My plan is foolproof. But we must follow it if we want to kill off the Alliance quickly and for good.”

Hordak’s eyes study her. Catra’s face remains without emotions. Seconds pass into minutes, and the noise of the camp overpowers the strained silence within the tent. 

“Fine. Have it your way. But I expect nothing but success, understood?”

“Of course.”

Hordak disconnects the call. Catra stares at the empty monitor. A deep and menacing rumble erupts from her chest as she punches the pad next to her hands. She takes a deep breath and looks at the soldier. 

“Call Force Captain Scorpia here.”

“I… Is she here, Ma’am?”

“She was ordered to participate in the siege. Of course she is here! Ring her damn badge, now.”

The soldier hurries while Catra tries to calm the raging storm within her chest. The soldiers might treat her as if she is their true leader, but Hordak still sees her only as a second in command. Perhaps… Perhaps Horde Prime will see. He would recognize her potential. Her true worth. The only reason she didn’t plant explosions all over Hordak’s sanctum yet, is because she doesn’t know what to expect from the galactical emperor. 

Once she knows how to approach Horde Prime, and she proves herself to him, she will dispose of Hordak. Yes… That will do. Perfect plan. The storm is gone, and only smug satisfaction remains.

“Ma’am, I can’t reach the Force Captain.”

Her sharp eyes land on the soldier, who winces. With a scoff, she leaves the tent, pushing away the flap with force. Her legs bring her over to the beach area, where the waves drown away the echoes of the Horde. Catra stands there, a few steps away from the shore, staring into the distance.

The thought of “Horde Lord Catra” is taunting and enticing at the same time. That little reckling child who was relentlessly picked up on and hurt could never imagine a reality where that could be possible. But Catra made it possible. She crawled through life and rose above those who looked down on her.

She became the winner in the end. 

She is the one who has the right to laugh at last.

But then… Why? Why is she standing on the shore, alone?

Without thinking much about it, she presses her badge. “Hey, Scorpia. Where are you? It's not like you to disappear" Catra complains.

Nothing but radio static. Maybe Scorpia's badge isn't working well? It could have been damaged during the siege. She curls her tail around her middle. She watches one of the broken statues of the Sea Gate looking over the endless sea, and her stomach flips.

"Listen, I'll kill you if you tell anyone this, but… I thought winning would be…different. Or, at least, more… I don't know… Fun?" She hesitates and drops her hand against her thigh. 

Is it how victory should feel like? Empty? Lonely? She is almost at the top of the world, but she never felt so alone in her life before. So wrong. It makes her nauseous, her conflicting feelings at war with each other while she should be celebrating her victory; gladly going back to the Fright Zone and continuing with her grand plan.

Yet here she is, staring into the fucking ocean as if she is waiting for something. Someone.

But no one comes, and Catra needs no one.

Catra presses the badge once again. With more force this time. "Come on. Don’t tell me you’re still mad at me about before, are you?" She rolls her eyes, and then a frustrated scoff leaves her mouth. "Stop being so sensitive. Get over it and talk to me, Scorpia!"

Yet again, only radio static. It swallows her whole — spits her out and calls her a fool, tells her she is abandoned. 

"Scorpia? Scorpia?!"

Whether Scorpia is having her pity party or not, it isn’t like her to disappear just like that. To not answer at least the second call. But static disturbance is all Catra gets, filling her ears and screaming at her. Catra presses against her ears, and screws her eyes closed, willing the noise away.

Scorpia is missing. Had she run away? No, no — Scorpia would never. She isn’t Adora. She must be in the camp. Maybe the near ones. She is here, she has to. Scorpia wouldn’t leave.

Her eyes snap open and she hurries back.

"Octavia, did you see Scorpia?" She pants, her heart hammering.

Did something happen to Scorpia? Could she get injured? But no one reported a Force Captain occupying the infirmary. Perhaps she didn’t go and check herself in. She didn’t want to worry anyone. 

The answer comes. " Nah, she was supposed to lead the third and fourth squadron. Grizzlor took it from her. You're welcome, by the way.”

"And you didn't think it was worth reporting?!" She shouts, her claws pressing against her palm. "Bunch of idiots!" She growls and stops in the middle of the camp, retracting her claws and taking a deep breath. “Think Catra, think.”

She takes her way to the infirmary. Two soldiers lay on stretchers, one with a broken leg and the other because of a stab wound. No Scorpia, and according to the doctor, she didn’t come here. She requests a full list of Force Captains in charge of the outer camps, Scorpia’s name is not among them.

With every passing minute, Catra’s heart palpates. Where is Scorpia? And why did no one even bother to report her absence to her? 

2 hours have passed since the discovery of Scorpia missing. She is back in the main tent, the soldiers here are working on trying to locate the last time her badge was active. She set up a small group to look through the vicinity of the city, maybe Scorpia is within the rubbles. Catra walks up and down within the confined space, palms clammy and throat dry. Her mind is in a whirlwind of theories and thoughts about what could have happened with Scorpia. 

She isn’t hard to kidnap if she is ambushed, although Scorpia is a capable fighter, she has easily exploited weaknesses. The kingdom’s army was, without their princess's power and aid, significantly weaker. They couldn’t have wounded Scorpia fatally, neither so badly she wouldn’t be able to contact them. 

She might have got sick. No. Knowing Scorpia, she would have barricaded her room and told Catra not to come even near her. But again, being sick is being weak in the Horde. Or did she do something stupid again and didn't want to come around? The possibility of Scorpia getting holdback because she decided to help some soldier is high, but again, someone should have seen her.

But no one did.

You are a bad friend.

Or perhaps, Scorpia didn't want to see her face anymore.

“Did you find something?” She stops, voice forced to sound calm. Her tail is still wrapped around her waist.

“Might have, Ma’am.” The other soldier answers, and she looks at her expectantly.

“According to these readings, Force Captain Scorpia either left her badge in the Fright Zone, or she has never left.”

Catra’s eyebrows furrow and lips set in a straight line. Scorpia denied her order? 

She truly, truly , wishes Scorpia simply left her badge in the Fright Zone and not disobeyed her orders. Worry morphs into something ugly, that gnaws at her heart and constricts her lungs. Anger blooms within it, pumping her blood until her hands are jittery and her tail moves in erratically. 

Anger because of the potential clear sign of disobedience to her order. 

Anger because she worried about Scorpia. 

Anger because she made herself an absolute fool for caring. 

"Prepare a boat. I’m going back to the Fright Zone. Force Captain Octavia is in charge of the operation."

“But Ma’am-”

"I said to prepare a boat!" She slams her hand to the table, claws drawn out. " Now. "

The soldier hurries out without another word. Catra takes a deep breath and pushes her hair down. She presses her badge again, no sign from Scorpia. She growls and leaves the tent once more, walking to the dock.

Would Scorpia be so bold as to disregard her orders? Is it her resistance to Catra being a “bad friend”? 

The way back to the Fright Zone is silent. Even the ocean remains still, bending and dulling under Catra’s towering wrath. Hundreds of words fly around her mind, what to say to Scorpia when she inevitably faces her. The memories of their last meeting had burned into Catra’s head, Scorpia calling her a bad friend and leaving her in the dim corridor.

But Catra never promised friendship, she never promised companionship. She never promised love.

Yet, Scorpia always stuck around. During Catra’s relentless chase to Shadow Weaver’s position, when the weight of being a second in command fell on Catra’s shoulder. She followed Catra into exile and would have stayed in the Crimson Waste if Catra wished to abandon her past. Even after the portal, Scorpia was the only one to see the scars left behind from the magic, she stayed by Catra’s side. She never reported her about Entrapta and never tried to blackmail her for that.

Scorpia always stuck around. And it makes Catra want to throw up.

She holds onto the railing, the metal ice-cold against her heated palm. Her fangs sink into her bottom lip, and she glares at the ocean. She tastes iron.

Weak, the word comes to her mind, the voice that whispers to her is the blend of her own and Shadow Weaver’s. Weak, she became weak again. Dependent. Soft-hearted. 

The nightmares about Entrapta never cease, she sees her as the princess is being torn apart by monsters. Starved to death on the unknown island. She hears her scream. The portal weaves itself into her dreams, her most vulnerable moments alone in her room, the mirror shows her corrupted body. Body made of the void, patched to her flesh through purple, vivid magic. Scorpia’s words echo in her mind, they lash against Catra’s scarred skin.

Weak, weak, weak, weak.

She got attached again. Perhaps not as badly as with Adora, neither Scorpia nor Entrapta meant the world for Catra, but they had a place in it. A place that softened among the hard edges of her heart, that remained bleeding and aching when she sent Entrapta away. And the gaping hole just grows, as acid melts away the walls screaming Scorpia’s name.

Air escapes from her lungs and refuses to come back, she closes her eyes tightly. 

Catra can’t succumb to this. It’s their fault, their fault. They should have known, they should have expected this. Catra is a poison, a thorny dead bush. 

She isn’t weak. She isn’t soft-hearted. 

She is the youngest Force Captain, the second in command of the Horde, and when the time comes, she will usurp Hordak. She needs no one. Whoever tries to get closer to her, it’s their fault.

By the time Catra retracts away from her mind, she stands in front of Scorpia’s door.

Catra’s hand hovers above the button. She gulps dryly, pushing down her hesitation, and the door opens. Revealing nothing but an empty room. A room that looks like it hasn't been used in days.

She steps into the room, noticing Scorpia’s badge on the bed, on top of the jacket from the Crimson Waste and a folded note. Catra stares at these three things like she expects Scorpia will magically appear by one of them, or she would jump out from somewhere. 

She waits, seconds, minutes. As time passes, the silence in the room cradles her neck and squeezes it slowly.

Catra takes the note from the bed and reads it. Simple words, still, they push Catra down. Down to something deeper and nastier than where she has been hanging from all these years.

Scorpia is gone. Scorpia left.

The only thing you've ever done is get in my way! What did I expect, I mean, how could you possibly be this useless?!

Catra screams into the silence.

I'm sorry, Wildcat.

S.

A lot of things are illusive within the Horde, allies, friends, kindness — but never nightmares.

They accompanied Catra ever since she was a child, waking up with terror in her heart in the cold and dark dorm room. 

Every night, another round of memory would bubble to the surface, grab her with sharp claws and never let go until she was screaming and crying. Sometimes it would be memories of Shadow Weaver and red electrical lights whirling around her, other times it would be Adora leaving her again and again while Catra was left behind in the dark. 

Now, it’s the portal that haunts her nights.

It would appear in front of her, drawing her in and no matter how desperately she tried to crawl away, there was nothing she could cling to, no one who would hold her hand.

This night wasn't an exception, either. Catra wakes with a harsh scream stuck in her throat, claws sharp against her skin, leaving ugly red lines as she scratched herself in her sleep. 

She sits up as if molasses is holding her against the bed, her hoarse breathing fills up the silent room. She takes a shaky deep breath, trying to calm herself down. The deep circles around her eyes are a harsh contrast with her tan complexion.

She eventually kicks the blanket away, freeing her lower body, and coldness envelops her. A shiver runs through her. Catra stands and stays still for a long moment, staring at the ground.

"This is ridiculous." She hisses, anger creeps into her heart.

Because anger is better than fear.

The bathroom attached to her room is cold. The tiles and walls are made of metal, with scratches embedded into them. Catra sheds her sleeping attire and steps under the shower, washing away the sweat and little sleep that clings to her limbs. Her eyes linger on her right arm. Tendrils of the portal’s magic burnt themselves into her skin. Just another addition to her collection of scars.

Catra prefers not to look at them.

Catra leaves her room as a prim and proper Force Captain who leads the Horde with efficiency and an iron hand. No trace of the terror she woke up with. Her way leads to the control room, steps are determined, powerful even, dark circles are prominent under her ice-cold eyes, and she won't let anyone see her as weak. She enters the control room, and another Horde soldier comes after her, saluting rigidly.

"What?" Catra asks flatly while looking at him. "Do you have news about Force Captain Scorpia?" Her pupils narrow down into a slit, a hopeful sparkle lighting up in her heart. It’s been days, perhaps a week. Days blend into each other.

"No…no, we have no news about where For-"

Catra growls at him. "Then why are you bothering me?!" She snaps at the soldier.

"W-we got a report that the Rebellion is trying to take back Elberon." He squeaks, taking a few steps back when Catra fully turns towards him.

"Then send more troops there!"

"Our troops just got back from another mission. They are exhausted and our weapons," He trails off, his back hitting the door, Catra tracks up to him, her face nonchalant.

"Are they exhausted? Aww…" Catra tilts her head, her voice is sweet as honey, and her tail slowly lashes around. "Everyone is tired, we are in a war . I don't care if they will crawl their way into Elberon, I don't care if they will have to fight with teasers, they will march there and defeat the Rebellion, do you understand?" She hisses at him, the man nods rapidly. "Great. Now get out of my sight."

The soldier hurries out of the room, the door closes after him. Catra stands in her place for a few long seconds, her breathing becomes uneven, and her claws bite into her palm. A roar leaves her mouth, followed by a dull thud of the metal wall where her fist landed.

"Where are you Scorpia?"

The question rings in the silence of the room. It's so overbearing, so alone, so pathetic . Catra takes a deep breath and pushes her hair down. She turns around and looks at the monitors, they show territories belonging to the Horde: Salineas, Dryl, Erelandia, Thaymor and many more. They are winning, the Horde is winning. They are pushing down the Rebellion each day, gaining more power.

That's what Catra wanted and strived for, yet everything feels empty.

She feels empty.

Her mind, her cruel, cruel mind, wanders to Adora. The traitorous friend of hers. Is she panicking? Does she feel just as alone and empty? Or does she find hope in the princesses? Finds solace and support in them?

Catra busies herself with work, listening to soldiers coming and going as they report back to her in person. The skiffs outside are loaded, logistics unload them, and mechanics do last check-ins on robots and their weapons before they are sent to the front. It takes a few hours to hear from Elberon, they have got the town back. Of course, they-

Wildcat.

She whips around the chair, almost tumbling down. Scorpia, she would call out the name, but she is alone in the office. 

The door once again opens and Lonnie walks into the room, it’s easy to recognize someone’s footsteps if they grew up alongside Catra. She stands there while Catra stares behind herself, perhaps still believing that Scorpia would appear out of nowhere. Lonnie coughs and Catra looks at her.

Catra groans in response. "What is it, Lonnie?"

"We’ve got Elberon back, the Rebellion soldiers retreated." She reports, the feline not even looking at her. A minute passes without Catra saying a thing. "Uhm… Is everything okay, Catra?" She asks hesitantly.

Catra narrows her eyes at Lonnie, her tail moves at a slow pace. But she says nothing. Does she look weak? Defeated? Desperate? The thought makes her stomach flip, sickness creeping up on her slowly. She isn’t weak. She doesn’t need anyone’s pity. 

Catra is much stronger than them. Then why is Lonnie, in her battered armour and bruised face, looking at Catra like she is a little frightened kitten in a box?

A growl begins to form in the back of her throat just at the thought. "Get-"

"We have information about Force Captain Scorpia." Lonnie rushes before Catra can yell at her. "We were able to capture a Rebellion soldier, he might be able to tell us something about her."

Catra hesitates at first, throwing a sceptical look at Lonnie. "Why are you so sure about that?"

"He is close to one of the princesses, Mermista."

Catra’s eyes widen. What in the hell does Scorpia do in the Alliance? Her initial shock forms into a cruel smile, and her eyes light up with something unsettling. Her tail moves with excitement. 

"Take me to him."

Lonnie leads Catra down from the control panel. The sector died down during the hours, the returning soldiers are recounting their losses. Their faces scream with exhaustion, bruised faces and tired limbs. Catra ignores them.

The prisoner sits excluded from the others, bound to a metal column. His face is familiar — the clown who always follows the water princess… Sea Hawk. He looks war-beaten and tired. She stops in front of him, he looks at her with weariness in his eyes.

Her mind is playing a cruel trick on her again. Why would a Rebellion soldier know anything about Scorpia? Especially someone so close with a princess.

Of course, the answer would be almost evident, but Catra chooses to ignore it and banishes it to the deepest part of her mind. Scorpia didn’t join the Rebellion.

They must have captured her. Yes, that’s what happened. 

"Oh." Sea Hawk looks at his visitors.

"One of my Force Captains is missing.” Catra crosses her arms. “Does your pitiful Rebellion know anything about her?”

Sea Hawk hums, furrowing his brows. "You need to be a little more specific here, I'm afraid."

Catra's eye twitches. "And I'm afraid that if you don't get your brain working, you will be sent back to the princesses in pieces."

Sea Hawk glances at Lonnie and back to Catra. "W-well, we don't have to be so threatening, do we?" He chuckles nervously.

Catra grabs his jaw and locks eyes with him. "I will ask you again. Do you know anything about Scorpia?"

The question hangs in the air and for a moment Catra thinks that Lonnie is wrong, this clown knows nothing about where Scorpia is.

"You mean that big half scorpion half human lady with white hair?" Sea Hawk asks, deep in his thoughts. "Oh, she is in Erelandia!" He announces, and Catra lets him go.

"Lonnie, get a skiff. We are going to bring Scorpia back. I can't believe she let herself be captured by these idiots!" She pushes her hair back and walks away from Sea Hawk.

"She wasn't captured."

Those words are like lightning through her body, she stops dead in her tracks. Her palm hovering over the button that lets them out of the building. " What ?"

"Well, my dearest Mermista said that she has joined the Alliance! Well, after all, she is a princess so it was inevitable, right?" He chuckles to himself. "Must have been hard for her."

"What did you just say?"

“I mean, the Horde is not the happiest place for a princess, right?” Sea Hawk looks up and Catra looks at him with a slit pupil, anger, and betrayal written all over her face.

"What did you say?" She repeats herself, her voice dangerously low. "Scorpia… has joined the… Alliance?"

A deprecating laugh nails itself in her throat, unable to bubble up. Catra can only stare at Sea Hawk, hoping that this idiot will say that this is a tasteless joke, that they captured Scorpia. But the room remains silent. But of course, why would Scorpia get captured? She left a note behind,

She left on her own. She left on her own . ON HER OWN!

Her grasp on the world slips and finds herself back in Thaymor many years ago. Adora slipped through her fingers, leaving, transforming. Shadow Weaver, escaped to Bright Moon after she tricked Catra once again. Scorpia… Now Scorpia too. 

Always the Rebellion. Always the princesses.

Her claws unsheathe and Catra’s legs move on their own. Lonnie jumps in time, grabbing Catra by her waist before she can hurt Sea Hawk. She trashes in Lonnie’s hold, clawing at her armour.

"Catra-"

"Don’t lie to me!" Catra screams at Sea Hawk, seeing red, anger boils under her skin. "Scorpia would NEVER join the pathetic princesses! She wouldn’t! Where’s Scorpia?!" Her voice shrieks, echoing back from the metal walls.

Lonnie hauls her out of the building, punching the button that closes the door. Catra trashes in her arms, growling and hissing. Something wet rolls down on her face, blurring the world.

"Let go of me, Lonnie!" She breaks away, stumbling forward. She finds support in a lone cargo. She heaves, claws once again digging into her palm. "How dare you-"

"Catra calm down!" Lonnie’s voice cuts into her skin, she speaks not with anger.

"Don’t tell me what to do!" She snaps at Lonnie, her voice hysteric. "Didn’t you hear him?! Scorpia is with the princesses! The princesses !" Suddenly, Catra throws the cargo away, it barely misses Lonnie. She takes a sharp breath. "She… She left the Horde… She left… Left…" Her breathing slowly evens out, her claws retract back, and her eyes are empty as she stares at Lonnie. "Scorpia… Left…" She repeats it yet again.

And it’s all back again.

She's alone. All alone. Scorpia left her for the princesses, just like Adora. Just like Shadow Weaver.

"Catra-"

Lonnie reaches out to her, and for a vulnerable second Catra lets the soldier touch her shoulder. She looks at Lonnie and her stomach flips. Pity. Pity radiates from Lonnie’s eyes. Catra rips herself away from Lonnie and marches away.

She walks away, with eyes wide open. Her heart rattles against her sternum, struggling to keep up with her rising emotions. Her steps pick up the pace, soon she is jogging, and now she is sprinting through the corridors and stops at Scorpia’s room. Tears blind her vision, it takes her a few tries to open the door.

Drawings and posters cover the walls, about her, about them, about their stupid super pal trio, the picture of Scorpia’s family, and a scorpion plushie. The jacket from the Crimson Waste lies on the untouched bed. 

With a frantic look, she tears down the posters, they fall to the floor in front of Catra. 

Scorpia left. She left. This is all your fault. You did this. You pushed her away, just like you pushed Adora away. Just like you pushed everyone away.

The ugly side of her mind screams at her, and she finally lets go. She tears and breaks, destroying everything that she can touch. Because that’s the only thing she is good at. Destroying things. Destroying everything around her, so why shouldn’t she just keep destroying?

Everything that makes her weak.

When she is done, it looks as if a hurricane has run through the room. The mattress is torn and hurled at the other end of the room, and the family picture is thrown on the floor with broken glass. The posters and drawings are ripped into pieces, just like the plushie. Numbness and alertness keep her heart beating fast, her body shaken. She pushes her hair down again.

Her body reacts to the raging emotions of betrayal and anger courses through her veins, but her mind, it’s almost blank.

"You’ve made your choice, Scorpia." She whispers as she leaves the room.

The distant rumble of the machinery gives her some kind of sick comfort. Makes her feel just a little at peace. Makes her feel like she is a machine as well. For everyone to use and throw away when they don’t need her anymore. She was one for Shadow Weaver, something to use and throw away, she is the same for Hordak even if she wants to believe otherwise. 

She is all she has.

Once she thought it was her on the top, but now, it simply feels like she is falling again into a pitless chasm while everyone around her disappears. Shadow Weaver, the one who made her life miserable, made her miserable, is in Bright Moon, allied with the princesses. Crimes pardoned, acting like she is on the side of the good now. How fucking ridiculous. 

And Adora? Adora gets to live the life of the hero, everyone loves her, and everyone wants to be around her. It was always like this. Adora the one who shone so brightly, the shadow she cast annexed Catra. Adora meant to be the good guy, but Catra didn’t.

Perhaps this was their prewritten destiny. Perhaps it was Adora’s to break away from the shadows of the Fright Zone and Horde, to be born anew with a never-ceasing light radiating from her. While Catra was to stay and plunge herself deeper and deeper into the darkness until it choked her and chained her. 

She stops abruptly at a window. The Fright Zone buzzes, soldiers work through the night, war machines stride across the route, and supplies are thrown into vans. Her reflection looks back at her, tired, blank and numb. She reaches out, hands on the cold glass.

"How… Disappointing." Her claws sink into the glass, scratching it with an empty stare.

She strolls through the hallways. Her way leads back to the control room, the monitors reflect an unnatural blue light all over the room. Illuminating her weary, bloodshot eyes.

She takes the pad lying on the desk, she contacts Octavia. “Where are you?”

Octavia’s face comes into view. She is on top of a moving skiff. “Going back to the Fright Zone. Pillaged through the last of the resistance camp in Salineas.”

“Take your course to Erelandia, and raze it to the ground. Understood?”

“What?”

“Go to Erelandia, and do not leave it until it’s nothing but a wasteland.”

“Why now?”

Catra frowns. “We have a runaway Force Captain there.”

“Nothing but dust. Got it.”

She disconnects and drops the pad to the ground. The moons are slowly creeping up to the setting sky.

Her fist twitches. The first blow to the monitor sends burning satisfaction to her soul, she tears down the second one, and hurls it to the other side of the room. Catra doesn’t hesitate to take this whole room apart, yanking off the monitors and other electronics. She mashes the control panel with one of the smaller monitors. And then, Hordak’s voice echoes in the room.

"Report Force Captain Catra. You missed the briefing.”

She heaves, her back against the monitor. “I will be there soon.”

“I hope with a complete report on our progress.” 

Catra almost laughs at him.

Our ? He did nothing. He was hiding in his pity lab, playing with his little robots. It was all Catra. Every town, every city, every plan, every mission. It was all Catra. Not Hordak. Not Hordak and Catra. Just Catra. Even if he finally dug himself out to the world, everything was laid out before him. Catra got him the weapons, the resources, everything .

"Of course." Catra answers, her voice almost way too calm to her usual temper. She turns towards the monitor. "Everything is perfectly under control." A smile appears on her lips. 

"Come to my sanctum, I will be waiting."

Hordak’s call ends. Catra grabs the last monitor and tears it down from the display, throwing it out of the window, it crashes into the concrete. Broken glass scattered around her, one cuts her cheeks, and one single drop of blood falls to the floor.

Catra takes a deep breath once again and pulls off her headpiece. She looks at it, swiping her finger over the piece before she snarls and throws it away. Her knees buckle onto the floor, a sob rips out of her gritted teeth. Her mismatched eyes shine with tears, droplets fall onto the ground as Catra leans forward and grips her hair. She bites her lip to surpass her cry, fangs pierce into her flesh, and blood drips to the floor.

Her chest tightens each time she lets out a cry, her head pounds so heavily it makes her sick. She shakes and shudders with each new wave of panic running through her body. Feelings that she has buried deep down for years break to the surface, ripping her old wounds, and leaving them to bleed with new ones. 

She wanted to be stronger and powerful, so why does she feel so weak and vulnerable? It shouldn't be like this; she shouldn't end up like this. She was supposed to be the victorious one. The last laugh was supposed to be hers! 

But then why did she lose everything?

Disappointment. Failure. Insolent child. Nuisance. Pet. Waste.

Shadow Weaver's voice rings in her head as if the sorcerer is right next to her. But no one is here. She is all alone.

Her back is against the table as she sits on the floor, in the middle of the ruined control room. Etheria seems to silence itself around Catra as if it covers away from her. Darkness has descended upon the room, and the last of the moon has come up too, taking its place in the starless sky. 

"No…" She whispers weakly. "I'm not…" Catra shudders for one last time before she forces herself to stand up, looking at her shaking palms. "I'm not a failure," She tells herself, wiping away the remains of her tears.

Destroy everything that makes you weak.

Weak — what does make her weak? It’s her heart, so fragile, despite Catra trying to desperately shoulder a mantle of iron skin over her torn flesh. Her wound from Adora’s betrayal, the stinging mistake of hurting Entrapra, the painful realization of how alone she is now that Scorpia is gone too. The years of torment from Shadow Heart. Her life depends on whether Hordak finds her useful or not.

Everything.

Everything.

"I'm not weak."

Catra's body moves on its own, it's almost like she sees herself from the outside. She leaves the control room. Below lays the courtyard that’s filled with transporters, packed with various weapons, supplies, armour, and even smaller skiffs. They are sealed off, and already inspected. They only need Catra’s permission to leave tomorrow morning.

She stops by one and breaks down the lock. The inside light switches on, revealing stacks and stacks of explosions.

Catra takes three small ones with herself — one for the control room, one for the supply room, and the last one for the hangar, She times the last one to 20 minutes.

But she doesn't stop here, oh no.

She walks away, to the place that will either be her grave or the place she will spit at before leaving this miserable place.

Hordak's sanctum.

The door reveals the dimly lit sanctum. When she steps in, she can almost feel it in her bones, the way she cannot turn back around anymore. Tonight, her fate will be decided — her destiny either becomes her tomb or perhaps she can steal just a little twinkling light for herself. She punches the control panel after the door shuts itself. 

Hordak’s back is in full view. She draws her claws out, her tail swishing around wildly. As if she is ready to hunt.

"Report on Salineas and Plumeria." The order comes naturally to him, Catra’s ear twitches lightly.

No answer, she walks closer to him.

"Force Captain?"

Catra prowls in the shadow, tapping her claw against one of the tubes of her failed clones. “Force Captain Octavia is on her way back from Salineas. Our spies have successfully arrived in Plumeria this afternoon, they will begin scouting shortly too.” Her voice is eerily calm, and her eyes glow in the dark.

“Excellent. The poison?”

Hordak trinkets with some devices once again. Catra doesn’t recognize the design, it’s sleek and small. His stance reveals him to be relaxed, almost in a good mood.

A smirk creeps over Catra’s lips. “No need to be impatient, it will soon be ready.”

Hordak hums. “Once all of Etheria will kneel and Horde Prime arrives, you will be rewarded greatly, Force Captain. Your contribution to our victory was grave.” He straightens and puts down his trinket, turning to where he heard Catra’s voice. “Are the shadows more comfortable?”

Catra scoffs. "You know… I always knew what the Horde was up to. I knew it when I saw the orphans just like me, brought here and raised as nothing but ruthless soldiers." Her claw breaks through the glass. "And we were made to believe we are nothing, but weapons in your hand. We were taught to feel honoured that the Horde had chosen us. What can I say, it looked appealing as a child." She looks at Hordak, her eyes reflecting nothing but emptiness. "I've had dreams, goals, ambitions. But they all crumbled to pieces, what a shame."

"What is this about, Force Captain?" Hordak narrows his eyes at Catra, losing his good mood, he now looks annoyed.

"You've made me this way. Shadow Weaver made me this way. The Horde made me this way. This… miserable, pathetic someone who lost everything ." She hisses. "But you … You have so much!" She breaks the glass, the odd water splashes onto the ground. "You have the Horde, the empire that you would offer to Big Bad Horde Prime — and I'm going to take that away from you."

Hordak fired his gun the moment Catra jumped toward him, she rolled away from the shot. The laser has destroyed half of the containers. Catra disappears from Hordak's sight, crouching on a pipe a few feet above him.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hordak growls, looking around for the girl. "No one ever made you do whatever you’ve done. No one made you this way, you made yourself suffer! You would be nothing without the Horde . " He says mockingly. "I will throw you to the deepest dungeon and offer you to Horde Prime, a traitor, a defect-"

Catra jumps down to Hordak's back, sinking her claws to his face, slashing the flesh without mercy.

"Am I a defect?" She laughs and kicks Hordak away. "Look at you, your armour holds you together, you were sent here to die because you are nothing but a failure! You can't even clone yourself!" She snarls at him, running away from yet another laser beam, behind her a tank has blown up, and the wall melted away leading to the hallway. "Didn't you notice?! I run things here! Without me, you would be still licking your wounds, because of Entrapta's betrayal!"

Hordak’s outcry bellows, another laser shot is aimed at Catra. Catra evades them, leaping around the debris. She is about to jump up to another pipe when Hordak aims at the pipe, and she falls to the floor with a pained moan, the parts of the destroyed pipe crashing down on her.

She slides away, trying to stand up with a tumble. A sharp pain strikes her side and leg. Her thight is injured, and her side drips blood. She sways around, finding support in the wall. Catra heaves and sweat covers her body, soaking her clothes. Her hair falls into her eyes.

"Do not speak her name again!" Hordak attacks her, more viciously, more wildly. He blows up his lab and Catra jumps out to the hallways. Hordak follows her.

Catra lets out a laugh, jumping away from yet another attack, wincing at the sharp pain. "Entrapta didn't betray us, you know." Catra stops, facing Hordak. The wall behind her has a huge hole from Hordak's previous attack. At this point, every rational thought about survival left her brain. As if she is toying with death, would it catch her today? Or tomorrow? " I sent her to Beast Island."

The laser beam came too fast and Catra wasn't quick enough, the blow getting her, and with a scream, she fell back. The familiar feeling of her heart stopping for a second, then beating again with new-found life rushes over her.

She has lost a life.

She groans and catches herself quickly on a ledge, pulling herself up to it. She doesn't have enough time to recover. Another light beam is aimed at her, Catra jumps away, Hordak following her yet again.

Catra lands on a bridge connecting the two biggest buildings. She stumbles forward, falling to one knee panting heavily, her side covered in red.

Hordak appears on the other side, his face painted red from the ugly wound Catra has left on him. The fight takes a toll on Catra, her wound doesn’t help, the throbbing in her thigh subdued by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She glances up, she sees a bunch of cords hanging from a higher level, she readies herself.

"You are wrong… I didn’t need the Horde. I didn't need Entrapta. I didn't need Adora or Scorpia…" The echo brings Catra’s voice far away, it’s trembling with power despite the pain throbbing in her body.

Before Hordak could get her she jumps, and grasps one of the cords." And I don’t need YOU!" Catra flings herself at Hordak, crashing against him, the claws on her toes scratching his neck. Hordak stumbles back and Catra charges at him, punching him right in the face, then with a well-aimed kick she destroys the laser gun on his arm.

Hordak's other hand closes around Catra's neck, pinning her to the floor, his red eyes glowing violently. Catra chokes and the pressure becomes stronger. She claws at Hordak's hand, blood dripping down the floor and her, staining her hand, clothes and underclaws. She kicks him in the neck again, the man stumbles back with a pained groan. Catra leaps and tears out the First One tech chip from his armour and sends Hordak to the floor as electricity runs through his body.

Catra pants above him, coughing for air. Her skin is red from the choking; her side is still bleeding. She tumbles to the side, unsure of her legs. She looks down at Hordak who is still twitching from the electricity of his malfunctioning armour.

An explosion shakes the whole ground coming from the control room. Catra looks back, seeing thick black smoke going up to the sky. She can't help but laugh, her giddiness takes over her body. She looks back at Hordak, and drops the chip down to the floor, stomping on it.

"It's over Hordak. Good luck impressing Big Bad Horde Prime." Catra flashes him a fanged smile, dripping from venom and hatred.

Another explosion. The supply room.

She takes a few steps back and jumps off the bridge, catching herself yet again, and climbs down until she lands on her feet. She winces at the sharp pain piercing her leg. She takes a deep breath and limps towards the hangar. If she calculated well, she still had 5 minutes until the hangar would be blown up too. Catra just needs a skiff, and she would be free from this place.

She moves through the shadows cast by the enormous building, and machines. The Fright Zone slowly wakes from its midnight slumber. The rumble of the explosions and the clash between Hordak and Catra disturbed their bizarre serenity. Only the small drops of blood trail behind Catra. She pushes her palm against her side and girths her teeth as she evades a group of soldiers running towards the supply room. 

In a few minutes, someone will probably discover her treason. Those lasers will be pointed at her.

The door of the hangar opens easily with a forceful kick, and she runs into the massive place. Adrenaline rushes through her body as she climbs into a skiff. Catra turns it on and dashes out of the place, she is halfway away from the place when it blows up.

Her ears flatten at the sound of the explosion. As she looks back, all she can see is thick black fog and flames stretching up to the sky. The sirens blare through the whole Fright Zone, waking up even those who dismissed the first warning signs. She ignores them all, taking the shortest and fastest route out of the Fright Zone. The strength from her legs slowly seeps out, but she forces herself to stay upright even if the pain makes her leg tremble. 

What she doesn't expect is another skiff catching up to her, and blocking her way.

She abruptly stops the skiff, expecting the worst. They are at the border of the inner part of the Fright Zone. She narrows her eyes, and in the same breath, they widen with surprise as she sees Kyle and Rogelio on the other skiff. Part of her mind tells her they are here to stop her, but they are without weapons or armour. Kyle hurries off the skiff, and Catra’s fist tightens. 

Kyle looks even more scared than he is usually as she jogs to Catra’s skiff. Catra thinks she must look like a rag doll with bloody hands, unruly and dirty hair and some bruises and cuts on her body. Blood smeared on her face and side.

"Get out of my way, Kyle." She hisses at him. "Or do you want me to run over you?"

Without a word, he throws something at Catra. She half expects it to be a grenade, a weapon, or anything that could hurt her. But it's a bag instead. It lands in front of Catra.

"I… I've seen you take the explosions, I guessed you wouldn't come back." He explains, glancing towards the Fright Zone with a nervous shake in his voice. "There are a few ration bars in there and… Water, also uhm, some gauze."

Catra blinks at Kyle, understandably confused over the situation. The noises of the Fright Zone fade into the background, only the slow hum of their skiff rumble in Catra’s ears. She looks at the bag and back to Kyle and Rogelio. Confusion muddles her mind.

"I don’t…" She shakes her head, biting away her words. "Why?" Her voice sounds so wounded and hoarse to her ears, that it almost irks her.

"You…you are mean Catra, but… We've grown up together, and… Just take… Take care?" Kyle tells her, looking worried at her as he scratches his hand.

Catra stares at Kyle, then looks at the bag again, she slowly nods. She manoeuvres the skiff away from Kyle and Rogelio and leaves the Fright Zone behind for good. She takes the Force Captain badge, and then with a simple move, Catra crashes it in her hand, letting go of the pieces.

Destroy everything that makes you weak.

She is not weak.

The skiff glides among the overarching trees of the Whispering Woods, their rich crown hides the moon’s light, yet the small fireflies dance around their branches and some plants glow from the magic they are feeding on.

Catra’s whole body throbs with searing pain. She hastily wraps her side with the gauze, but it will need a decent cleaning and wrapping up at some point — preferably when she is far away from the Fright Zone. The Whispering Woods still feels too close, as if she can feel the soldier’s breathing down on her neck. Most of them are probably happy to secure the opportunity to catch her and elevate themselves in the ranks. 

Eventually, she stops the skiff, her heart beating vehemently.

"The Whispering Woods." She speaks softly.

The memory of Adora comes to her mind when they first came here, and how quickly everything has changed after it. Part of her, probably that hopeful child that she was able to protect from the horrors of the war, tells her to go to Bright Moon. Go to Adora. Because Adora means safety. Adora would understand, she would hug Catra, telling her that everything would be okay. Like she used to.

Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.

She slowly turns the skiff in the direction she knows where Bright Moon is, and for a second, she would have believed in that childish hope in her heart. But it disappears the moment she remembers Entrapta, the portal, how Adora had looked at her, the Queen. A strangled gasp leaves Catra's lips, and she wheels the skiff around, racing through the woods, the wind catches in her hair, and now that her headpiece is missing her hair dances around against the wild wind.

Adora doesn’t mean safety anymore, Adora wouldn’t understand anymore. Adora wouldn’t hug her anymore.

What she needs is not Adora. Neither anyone’s pity nor apathy. 

Where she is supposed to go, even Catra doesn’t know. She just knows one thing, away. Away from everything. Away from the Fright Zone, from the Horde, Hordak, Shadow Weaver, the war, her memories, the stupid princesses, Adora , and herself.

Just away from everything.

Shadow Weaver's voice in her head says that she doesn't deserve to run away, and tells her she doesn't deserve peace. It would be hypocritical even from her. Wanting to get away from everything when she has hurt so many people. A tree comes into her eyes, it’s directly in her way. She doesn’t move to turn away from it.

Because Shadow Weaver is right. Like she was always through all these years. She is nothing but a failure, a disappointment, a nuisance. Someone who can be easily thrown away. Someone who knows nothing but destruction.

Shadows sneak around her body, holding onto her throat and wrist, keeping a steady aim towards the three. Catra pants, the world is suddenly too tight, too loud. 

CATRA.

Adora's voice rings in her ears. She stops the skiff barely avoiding the crash with the tree. Catra's chest heaves, her head throbbing with a building headache, and her tail moves around uncontrollably.

Wildcat.

Catra turns around, scanning her surroundings with her mismatched sharp eyes. Scorpia is not here, of course, she is not. 

"This wood…" She whispers. "It's just playing games with me." She tells herself, letting herself calm down, as best as she can but her mind is chaos, a whirlwind of memories, old and newer ones, haunting her. She eventually restarts the skiff and drives away.

The moment she leaves the woods it's like a weight has been lifted from her chest, she gasps for air, tears running down her cheeks. A loud and pathetic sob rips out of her chest. She surges forward, hugging herself, she wraps her tail around her waist a small act of comfort, and her ears are flattened down. Her heart beats against her ribcage painfully, and for a moment Catra wouldn't mind if it would just stop beating at all, it would save her from all of these pain and memories that have been haunting her for years.

She cut away the last lifeline she had clutched onto ever since she was a child, too stubborn and afraid to let go even when she had the opportunity just to run and never look back. Now the Horde hunts her, the Rebellion detests her and Catra is all alone while everyone’s target is pointed at her back.

By the time the dawn breaks and the sky batches itself in a purplish hue, Catra sits on the floor of the skiff. Its engine turned off. She looks at the bag, taking a ration bar from it. A scoff leaves her lips as she notices that all of them are grey ones.

"How many lives do I have still?" She furrows her brows, eyes tiredly looking up at the sky. "I… have lost one at Princess Prom, another when that spider got me, Hordak suffocated me," she counts on her fingers as he tries to remember every time she has died but comes back thanks to her nine lives. "I… I- I let myself go into the portal, then again. And Sparkles's magic did a number on me too. Hordak blasted me with his laser." She sighs to herself. "I still have two lives." She concludes.

A scowl forms on her face, pushing her hair back with a deep sigh. She takes another bite of the bar. "I need to be careful…do I… need to be careful?" She questions herself with a furrowed brow, holding onto her ankles. "It's not like someone would miss me if I ran out of lives, right? I would even do a favour for everyone." 

But if Catra thinks about it really, she has given up caring about living for so long. Maybe in Crimson Waste, she has said that she has nothing to lose, but she still desires Hordak's trust and acknowledgement. She had dreams, ambitions, goals. She wanted something out of this life.

Some people have a bad day. I've had a bad life. If I want something, it's taken from me. If I win a fight, I lose the war. Threats only work on someone who has something to lose. But me? I've already lost it all.

But now? She has nothing.

With a heavy sigh, Catra stands up and turns the skiff on, driving away from the Whispering Woods.