In a moment like this, Catra couldn't help but think and ask herself just how the fuck did she get into this situation. No, more of a how the fuck did the situation get so out of her control she was about to be killed by Hordak. He had already broken some of her ribs when he threw her across the hall and against the wall so fast she didn't even have time to react and defend herself. She was second in command now, alone in the ranks, no one to share the blame of a horrendous failed mission, not even with Force Captains like Scorpia.

Good.

None of the Force Captains had the fault, so it was fair, they only obeyed her commands and did what they were told. And if what they were told was wrong, well, there was only one person to blame here and it was Catra, it was fair. She liked fair, she wasn't complaining or wondering why she was taking the fall, she knew exactly why.

Adora.

Breathing was getting harder, the pain on her right side was burning and her head hurt, the bruises and cuts from the previous battle were stinging and probably bleeding, wounds reopening. Hordak didn't move after his previous attack, his imposing frame partially hiding behind shadows but Catra could feel his murderous aura. He was furious. Behind the iron doors she could hear Scorpia, she was walking nervously across the corridor, probably wondering if she was going to come out alive of this one.

For some reason, this situation reminded her of Shadow Weaver. That thought alone made her want to throw up harder than she already did.

"Catra."

Hordak's deep voice broke the awful silence in the hall.

If she died tonight, well, at least she got to see Adora one last time, even if the situation was not the one she'd have preferred, or that the last expression she saw on Adora's face was one of pain, covered in tears and blood.

Fuck.

This is her punishment for being weak. If she hadn't been weak this wouldn't be happening, the Horde would've won.

But Adora would probably be dead.

And that was the reason why she's now barely breathing in a cold, grey room with Hordak, who can break her like a twig with the snap of his fingers, defenseless and, if she's honest for once in her life, scared.

"I'll spare you for the last time, Catra."

For some reason, she felt as if the air was trying to choke her, as if it was Shadow Weaver's doing. She was being spared by Hordak yet it felt like an even worse death sentence.

"Prove me that I am right by letting you live, you have one last chance to take Bright Moon."

He was by her side in a matter of seconds, looking far more intimidating than ever before. When he spoke again, the hairs on her arms stood on end and a cold shiver ran down her spine. Shit. This is bad.

"Prove to me that you can overcome this…weakness of yours, and that it will never happen again."

What else could she say?

"I'll do it, Lord Hordak. This time I will."

Bile rose in her throat and Catra clenched her teeth. She hated this. She hated this situation. She hated the doubting.

"Get out."

She was dismissed, and alive.

Barely.

She didn't know how she managed to crawl her way out of Hordak's room, but it felt like years when she reached the corridor.

Catra felt humiliated, even more so when consciousness started to fade the moment she was lifted by Scorpia, probably, who quietly took her to her room.

Adora's tear streaked face was her last thought before everything faded to black.

Catra hated sleeping at Shadow Weaver's former room. The smell, the memories, the pain, it all seemed to live there, and she hated it. She wished she could go back to sleep at the barracks along with the others like she used to, at least there she didn't feel like someone was watching her. And Adora was there too.

She wanted to slap herself, but if she did it'd do no good for her, so she bit her tongue.

Stop thinking about Adora. This…weakness she had with her…she needed to let it go. Otherwise, Hordak would either kill her or demote her.

But did she really care? About her rank?

She wished she could curl into a ball, but with her still healing ribs it was nearly impossible without hurting herself, so Catra just closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, claws threating to dig into her skin.

If she was willing to jeopardize her life in the Horde to save Adora, did she even really care about it? Was it important to her?

She didn't know anymore. Still, her loyalty was still here for the most part. Or that's what she believes anyways.

Isn't letting Adora and her sidekicks get away a betrayal, though?

To Hordak it seems it is. Or at least a sign that Catra isn't fit for the job of second in command. She could feel her claws digging slowly on her face. Again, the doubting. She is good enough to be second in command. There's no one else fit for the job, she's the best the Horde has.

The best after Adora defected.

The smell of blood surrounded her now, she could feel it coming out of cheek. She was always second best when Adora was here.

The golden child. Shadow Weaver's favorite. Adora was destined to be the Horde's very best soldier. And then there was Catra. Adora's sidekick, the second best, never good enough.

Bile rose in her throat and she could feel a headache forming.

How many times did she go through Shadow Weaver's wrath because of Adora? Certainly, Shadow Weaver had a way of reminding her that she would amount to nothing, every time.

If Adora came back, would Catra be demoted back to Force Captain? Would she go back to being second best? Adora being She-Ra makes her much more powerful to Hordak's eyes than Catra would ever be, if he could get his hands on that power and be able to control it, he would no doubt replace Catra with Adora.

She couldn't have that. Not after all the work she has done to get here.

Yet, wasn't having Adora back what she wanted all along? Since the moment she defected, Catra wanted her back. Needed her back, but she knew Adora wouldn't, she had already made up her mind and abandoned her and the Horde for her journey of self-righteousness. Even after she promised to never leave her, she did. Catra wanted to scream, how could she leave her like that? Did the promise they make mean nothing to her? How was Adora so blind as to what the Horde was doing, how they were? Didn't she realize only by seeing how Shadow Weaver treated Catra? If they could treat one of their own like that, what was left for the rest?

"Damn it, Adora…" She couldn't smell anything but the blood coming out of her cheek. Catra's ribs hurt enough to make her chest ache.

Yes, this was the weakness Hordak was talking about.

Adora as She-Ra and her painful expression, trying to get Catra to leave the Horde once again, Catra telling her to get away, her teeth clenching just by looking at how hurt Adora was. She couldn't take her as a prisoner, so she just yelled at her to run away, get her friends and leave that awful place. Even grabbed her by the throat to get her message across, Adora could be so inconveniently stubborn, she knew that so well. The last thing Catra remembered was She-Ra's hand gently grabbing and squeezing her own before muttering an apology, with such a pained expression it made Catra's stomach drop at the memory.

The pain was making her dizzy, along with the strong smell of her blood. She wanted to sleep. Forget this conflict of emotions. Fade to black and stop thinking so much, she would fix the situation, she would let go of the weakness and prove Hordak she deserves her rank.

No one could take this away from her, this time not even Adora.

Hordak had summoned her to his chambers after weeks without communication. At least he had let Catra heal her wounds and broken bones before he thought of a new plan of action.

Physically, she felt better, stronger than the last few weeks when she had been barely able to breathe without wanting to scream in pain. Broken ribs were no game, she would know all about that after years enduring Shadow Weaver's rage, yet, for some reason now that Hordak was the one to blame they seemed to hurt even more. She could feel a numbing pain rising to her chest sometimes, her breathing getting caught in her throat as if someone was chocking the life out of her little by little, making the pain unbearable and most of times making her pass out.

She had been doing that a lot recently.

Hordak's chambers were as cold and grey as she remembered, shivers ran down her spine and her hairs stood on end every time she had to be in the room, but was it because of the room itself or because of Hordak's presence, or a mix of both? Catra guessed it was probably the latter. All she could do was just bow in respect against him anyways.

"Catra, I have a gift for you." What?

"Lord Hordak?" She hated to refer to him as Lord, but for the sake of survival she would. Why would he give her something, what was it? For some reason, her stomach dropped, this all sounded like a bad idea.

"This gift will help you overcome your weakness, Catra. I have high hopes for you, regardless of your last failure."

Amidst the shadows she could see Hordak holding something in his hands, a mask.

"This mask belonged to the Magicats, as the last one of their race, this rightfully belongs to you." Just seeing the mask made her want to run, but Hordak's voice kept her in her place.

"It used to belong to the last Queen of the Magicats. Take it, Catra."

Carefully, Catra walked up the stairs to Hordak's throne, each step feeling heavy and echoing across the chambers. The moment she touched the mask, she knew exactly why she was scared.

Magic.

She saw what magic did to Adora, what would it do to her?

"Use this mask when you see fit, Catra. She-Ra will be no match for you."

She-Ra will be no match for you. Hordak said that. The leader of the Horde. Would this mask ensure her position as second in command? How powerful would she become? Judging by what Hordak just said, enough to be She-Ra's equal.

Catra couldn't hide the smirk on her face.

This changed everything.

Now, they could both play the game equally. Adora wouldn't be the one on top anymore. If only this was a game, or part of the simulations where they used to train when they were kids.

This was war and Catra would win. What else did she have but her ambitions anymore?

The black mask felt like it was calling her. She felt powerful just by holding it, how would it feel wearing it?

It awoke a primal desire in Catra, almost animal.

Almost.