A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long, it's been kinda hard to get myself back into the mindset of writing fics that aren't post-canon now that the show is over and the tone has shifted so dramatically. Actually, at least 90% of this chapter was already written prior to season 5 being released, and that's notable for a couple reasons…
Firstly, there's an incident that closely resembles something that happens in season 5, and I swear to god it was already written. I have receipts if you all don't believe me lol, but I guess great minds think alike. ;)
Secondly, this chapter was written with no knowledge of what was to come in terms of real world events. I feel slightly awkward posting this now but hey, it's what I'd already decided to put next in the story. Just be aware this chapter takes a sudden and dark turn near the end, and it may be particularly upsetting right now thanks to certain current events.
CONTENT WARNING for physical and emotional child abuse, PTSD attacks/flashbacks, and speciesist slurs and sentiments.
A gentle vibration tickles the skin of Adora's forearm, barely registering through the haze of sleep clouding her brain. Her nose twitches with a groggy grumble as she draws her dry tongue in through her lips, but another shudder pulls her attention back to her arm. Her bleary eyes creak open to find Catra on her back, shivering as she stares at the ceiling.
Mumbling something incoherent, Adora closes her eyes again and rubs a soothing thumb over Catra's arm. But when Catra stiffens under the touch, a flash of alarm rolls through her brain and her eyelids snap open. Brow furrowing in concern, she asks, "You okay?"
"Yeah," mutters Catra, "just a little cold."
The air in the room doesn't feel that cold on her face, but Adora is still too drowsy to question it. Throwing a leg over Catra's thighs, she pulls herself in tighter to share her body heat. If it also allows her to be pressed so tightly to Catra that she can hear her hammering heartbeat, that's purely a bonus.
Adora can't help smiling to herself as Catra's pulse thunders against the ear pressed to her jugular. It's nice to know this has an effect on her too, even if she says she wants space.
It takes Catra a moment to relax into Adora's grasp. She knows she's safe in these arms, she does. But after yet another dream of being restrained in binding magic, that knowledge doesn't immediately translate in her body. After several deep breaths she's finally able to unclench her muscles, and a warm buzz washes over her.
Finally turning her head to look at Adora, Catra can't help a tiny chuckle. Adora's nose is scrunched with effort as she squeezes her tight. Always trying so hard. A smile comes over Catra's face and she rubs a thumb over the creases in the girl's forehead, prompting her eyes to open again. "Hey, I have a surprise for you today."
Catra's voice is still raspy with sleep but her eyes sparkle with affection and mischief, and Adora's chest swells with an overwhelming urge to kiss her. As overwhelming as that day in the locker room, maybe even more. But Catra has made her boundaries clear, and Adora's determined to respect them.
Honestly, Adora feels lucky Catra's even in her bed. She seems to have changed her mind about that, having stayed with her the past two nights after that first cold, lonely one apart. Catra still spends a fair bit of her time alone in her room, or with Scorpia, or hiding somewhere else in the castle, but she always returns to Adora in the dark. Adora doesn't feel right pushing her for anything more right now.
Settling for an arm squeeze and an affectionate smirk, Adora asks, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," says Catra, her cheeks tightening almost painfully with a sparkling grin. She can't wait to see Adora's reaction.
"Well?" Adora cocks an eyebrow. "Are you gonna tell me?"
"Uh, no?" Catra sasses her. "It's a surprise, dumb dumb."
Jutting out her lip in a pout, Adora whines, "Catraaaaaa…"
Smirking involuntarily, Catra purrs, "Yesss?"
"You're being mean," Adora huffs petulantly.
Catra scoffs. "Since when am I nice, princess?"
What possesses Adora to do what she does next, she has no idea. Reaching out to trail her fingers across Catra's cheek, she smirks and bats her eyelashes. "Oh, I can remember some times you've been nice…" She stares as her fingertips trace Catra's sharp jaw, wishing with all her might that it was her lips brushing that deadly handsome bone structure. "Very nice."
If Adora is surprised by her own boldness, Catra is downright astonished. She stares at Adora, eyes wide and unblinking like a helpless prey animal watching its life flashing before its eyes. Enjoying this rare reversal, Adora grins wickedly and pounces on her while her defenses are down. Her arms and legs lock tightly around Catra's body, squeezing her even harder than before.
"Hey!" squeaks Catra, flailing in her grasp as she attempts to free her arms. "Let go of me!"
"Nope," says Adora, the stupidest grin on her face as she presses it tighter into Catra's neck. "I've got you in a kitty trap. You're not leaving until you've been sufficiently cuddled."
Catra huffs and continues to struggle, but Adora knows Catra's strength after facing her on the battlefield. She's putting in enough effort to feign protest, but not enough to break her grip. She's holding back. Adora's heart swells within her chest at the realization. Catra doesn't want to escape.
"Adoraaaaa…" whines Catra.
"Catraaaaa," Adora cooes back at her.
The condescension makes Catra's eyes narrow, and she responds with a weak growl and wriggle. "Let me go."
"No, never," says Adora, her voice suddenly serious but still soft. Her nose and lips smush into Catra's cheek and nuzzle hard, one hand moving to rub behind her ear while her arms somehow remain locked tight around her. "Never again."
The sincerity of those words drains the remaining fight from Catra. These arms are the only grip she's ever felt safe in and, if she's being honest, she doesn't really want to escape. Going limp with a sigh of surrender, she rolls onto Adora and nuzzles into her chest. The arms holding her tight relax as well, one of Adora's hands moving under her shirt to pet her back while the other rubs and scritches at her scalp. Those hands' movements are strong and reassuring but also gentle, just like their owner.
Giving in completely to the wonderful sensations, Catra allows herself to purr, to knead at Adora's chest. Why fight nature? Adora's never minded that she's different anyway. If anything, she likes it. Not everyone can purr into Adora until she relaxes, not everyone has soft fur to soothe anxious hands and minds.
They stay like that for a while, enjoying the close contact and calmness it brings. Adora never used to lie around in bed, she despises wasting time too much. But she could lie here all day with Catra snuggled up in her arms.
Unfortunately, Catra seems to have other plans.
"We should probably eat something," she mutters, tail flicking idly over Adora's shins. At least she doesn't seem entirely eager to leave the bed either. Small reassurances. "That surprise will be here soon, and I dunno about you but I'd like to get some training in first."
"More boxing with Scorpia?" Adora cringes at the undertone of jealousy in her own voice, praying Catra didn't notice.
If she did, she doesn't mention it.
"And take her away from her girlfriend?" teases Catra. Flicking a dismissive hand, she concludes, "Nah, Entrapta's gonna be busy most of the day anyway." Her eyes settle on Adora, alight with a playful spark that sets a quiet blaze low in Adora's stomach. "You wanna spar?"
Adora scoffs. What a stupid question. "I always want to spar."
"That's my girl," says Catra, hopping off of her with a smirk and solid smack against her hip.
Adora's lips split in a beaming grin the second Catra's back is turned.
My girl.
***o***
An hour or so later, Adora is sweaty and sore in the best way possible. Well, the best way she has yet to experience, anyway.
Her eyes flit to where Catra's wiping the sweat from her neck with a towel, stray droplets rolling down the defined muscles of her upper arms. Suddenly Adora can't move her eyes, much less anything else. Her mouth goes dry as it hangs open, the sweet smell of Catra's sweat infiltrating her nostrils.
"Uh, you okay, Adora?"
"Uh, yeah," she stammers. "Yeah, I'm just thirsty." She punctuates this claim by dousing her mouth with water, but that only quenches one form of her thirst. Maybe she shouldn't be ogling Catra this way, given their current status and her commitment to respecting Catra's boundaries, but she can't help where her mind goes, where her eyes go. Can she?
As they begin their ascent from the bowels of the Cryptocastle, Catra sneaks a glance at Adora. She's been trying not to stare or let her mind run too wild, lest she betrays her intent to take her time with Adora, but it's awfully hard. Sparring might not have been her best plan ever, in that regard. Grappling and rolling around on the mats, sweating all over each other, fighting for control? Yeah, that's platonic all right.
Though she manages to avert her eyes, Catra can't exactly turn her nose away from the scent of Adora's sweat. And something else, if she's not mistaken. Her eyes squeeze shut as she groans internally and tries her very best to focus on anything but that. It was torturous enough in the barracks post-puberty, she does not need this right now.
The feeling of Adora shifting beside her catches her attention, and she looks over to find Adora struggling to sheathe her sword over her shoulder in the cramped stairwell. What a dumbass.
Clearing her throat, Catra suggests, "You know, that thing would be easier to carry if you turned it back into a mug or whatever. Can't you make it into a dagger or something for your convenience?"
"Hmm, good point," muses Adora. She thinks this over. A mug isn't even all that great, hands free would be better. A belt? No, that's even more awkward to reach. After a moment of contemplation, she stops on a landing and rests her sword on her opposite forearm, focusing all her attention into conjuring the perfect implement.
When her eyes open, they bulge in delight. Her sword transformations are still iffy, but this time she managed. Pushing her arm proudly in front of Catra's face to show off the vambrace, she asks, "What do you think?"
Catra nods approvingly. "Love it."
Bumping shoulders lightly as they resume the upward trek, Adora nags her, "So now are you gonna tell me what this surprise is?"
Catra rolls her eyes and huffs, "Adora, you are the literal embodiment of impatience, I swear to Hordak."
Adora finds out soon enough anyway. As they close in on the lab, she begins to pick up the sounds of muffled voices, of boots and hooves moving about the room.
Hooves!
Gasping with excitement, she turns to Catra and throws a grateful punch to her shoulder. "You summoned Swift Wind?"
"You'll see," is all Catra says, but she's doing a poor job of suppressing her smile.
"Is he taking us somewhere?" On a date? Has Catra planned some big romantic date? No, don't be silly, Adora.
Catra makes a horrified face. "Hell no! You know I hated that. I only fly on skiffs."
The lab door is open, as it usually is these days, and when Adora rounds the corner she finds not one, but two familiar faces. "Bow! Swiftie!"
Bow looks up from the table he's bent over, flashing a smile. "Hi, Adora!"
Bursting into a grin, Adora runs into his arms and smothers him in a hug. "What are you guys doing here?"
Swift Wind trots over to join the embrace and Adora cards her fingers through his mane, sighing into the contact.
"I'm here getting fitted for my chair," explains Swift Wind. "Bow's here to help with… something. I don't actually know."
"I also brought a copy of Shadow Weaver's digitized files for you," says Bow, pulling away enough to point at the disc in Entrapta's grasp. "Angella said you should have a copy for your reference."
Catra smacks a palm against her face and slowly drags it down. "Entrapta, did you seriously give away our only copy of the intelligence? To the princesses?"
Shrill laughter fills the air, Entrapta shaking her head. "No, Catra. I gave them a copy of the scans and they've been transcribing the documents so we can search the text for keywords instead of looking at them as pictures. It'll save us a bunch of time finding information when we need it."
"I… okay, whatever." Catra's not entirely sure what the difference is, but if it makes her job easier and more efficient she's happy for it. The prospect of sifting through stacks of Shadow Weaver's files, metaphorical as those stacks may be, was giving her a headache.
Chuckling as he fully separates from Adora, Bow nudges Entrapta and nods at Catra. "She really is a grandbot, isn't she?"
That brings on another round of Entrapta's grating laughter punctuated by Bow's guffaws. A chill rises on Catra's skin, her fur poofing out slightly as her ears pull tighter into her skull. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, it was a joke I made at the Alliance meeting," explains Entrapta. "You and Scorpia aren't really tech people."
"So, who cares?" huffs Catra, crossing her arms. "That's what you're for."
A warm palm comes to rest on her shoulder. Squeezing gently, Adora assures her, "They're not trying to be mean, Catra."
"Whatever you say," Catra says flatly. Turning to Scorpia, she nods out the door. "Come on, Scorpia. The real brains are needed in the war room."
Wringing her fingers together, Adora shifts her weight and asks, "Should I come?"
"No, stay with your friend," Catra says over her shoulder as she leaves, giving Adora a very intent but not unfriendly look.
Adora's left staring at an empty doorway, frozen with confusion and indecision alike until Bow clears his throat and tells her, "Sorry, we were just teasing."
Turning back to the tech wizards, Adora raises her eyebrows pointedly. "Catra's really sensitive to teasing. I'm sure you geniuses can make some guess as to why."
"Ah, yes," replies Entrapta. "I did notice during our time in the Horde that Catra dislikes remarks referring to her species."
"Well, not always," Adora quickly counters, lips falling into a frown. Wait, does Catra always hate it? She's never really asked, has she? Brow furrowing, she stammers, "Like yeah, that's true. But she doesn't usually mind if I say those things if it's just us. And Scorpia calls her Wildcat, so."
"You are correct, Adora," chirps Entrapta, pointing a finger upward in delight. "I've been tracking this phenomenon for weeks and the data shows a clear pattern. The intensity of Catra's reactions to Magicat references are inversely correlated with her comfort level with the person who says it and positively correlated with how many people are present. That makes sense, given Catra has a tendency to get defensive and often aggressive when she feels she's being humiliated."
Adora snorts. "You can say that again."
***o***
A short time later, Adora's elbow-deep in a box of miscellaneous electrical parts. Since she's no techie herself, Entrapta really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel of tasks to keep Adora from feeling useless while she and Bow did the important work. Adora's not even really sure what Bow's doing, some kind of repair job on a small bot that fits in his lap. Adora's mess takes up the entire coffee table, her various sorting piles sprawling across the surface. Entrapta had them drag in said table and this weirdly misshapen purple couch to use as a makeshift workstation. The couch is oddly elegant in its swoops and sharp angles, and surprisingly comfortable.
She and Bow have already exchanged stories of the latest developments in Dryl and Bright Moon, all the usual pleasantries. They fell into a comfortable silence a few moments ago, one Adora doesn't mind simply because she finds it hard to talk and think at the same time. If it was talk and fight that would be different; she could fight in her sleep (and does, actually, according to her friends). But she has a hard enough time categorizing these various electrical components without her attention being divided, so despite having missed Bow she doesn't try to prompt any kind of taxing conversation.
Unfortunately, Bow does that for her.
"So, is Catra treating you okay?"
Adora tenses. It's an innocent enough question, but she can't help hearing an accusation behind it, intentional or not. "She'd never hurt me, Bow." When Bow gives her a pointed look, she rephrases, "Not now. We hurt each other, I know that better than anyone, but that's over now."
"I hope so," says Bow, squinting at the bot on his lap as he fiddles with a screwdriver.
"She's not a bad person," insists Adora.
"Never said she was," Bow clarifies, meeting her gaze again. His smile is tinged with sadness as much as concern. "I just want to make sure you're happy, and safe. We miss you in Bright Moon."
Adora snorts. "Sure."
"No, really," he insists. "I know it doesn't seem like it with the guards and all, but Glimmer and Angella miss you too."
"They miss who they wanted me to be," Adora says flatly. "Now that I'm not their perfect warrior, they don't want me back."
"That's not true," argues Bow, a hint of defensiveness seeping into his tone. "Your betrayal didn't hurt because you're our ally, it hurt because you're our friend."
"Yeah, well," scoffs Adora, "I had to betray somebody either way. Sorry it was you this time."
Bow sighs, rubbing his temple. "That's not what I meant."
"Can we talk about something else?"
"Sure," he mutters. Catching her eye, he twitches his mouth apologetically. "I didn't mean to bring that up."
Adora rolls her eyes but doesn't argue. Bow's voice is noticeably brighter when he tries again a few seconds later. "So, how are things with Catra anyway? You guys making any progress?"
"Slowly, but yes," says Adora, rolling her eyes for a different reason this time. Still, she can't help the tiny smile pulling at her lips as her eyes lose focus, floating off to somewhere across the lab. "She's slept in my bed the last couple nights, even let me cuddle her this morning."
"Oh wow, okay," Bow replies emphatically. When Adora glances his way, she finds a slight blush on his cheeks. "I meant has she forgiven you for leaving her yet?"
"Oh." Adora's blush is not slight. Not at all. Scratching her flaming cheek, she mutters, "Slow progress on that front too. She wants to take time to work on that stuff before we get close again. Or closer."
Bow chuckles, but there's a tinge of sympathy to it. "I think you're the only person I've met who's more impatient than Glimmer."
Groaning into her hands, Adora grouses, "Can you blame me? Catra says she wants me, but she's not making any moves that way. Of course I'm getting antsy. I'd pin her against a wall if I didn't think she'd bite my head off."
A loud rattling fills the air as Entrapta's rolling chair comes flying their way, only screeching to a stop inches away from the coffee table. Flipping up her mask, Entrapta leans in with wide, excited eyes.
"Actually, Adora, based on my observations of Catra's behavior around you, I'd predict a high probability of her responding positively to a sexual overture! Her body language exhibits several indicators of interest in your presence, plus a few more quirks that I hypothesize are species-specific indicators of arousal. The reciprocal behavior between the two of you is characteristic of complex mammalian pre-mating rituals. It's all in the data, but believe it or not it appears that Catra's interest in copulation is even higher than yours!"
Adora's cheeks are on fire. Seriously, she wouldn't be surprised if Sea Hawk was around here somewhere. Forcing herself to meet Entrapta's gaze, she manages to say calmly, stiffly, "I know Catra's attracted to me, that's not the problem." Glancing pointedly at Entrapta's workstation, she adds, "And shouldn't you be working on Swift Wind's chair?"
"I'm finished! With the blueprints, anyway. I'll build it before our next meeting." Her eyes flick back and forth between Bow and Adora a couple times before she suddenly straightens up, pulling back and out of their space. "Oh, sorry, was this a private conversation?" Without missing a beat, she shrugs this off with a smile. "That's okay, I really want to dig into this new data anyway." Zipping over to the monitors, she pops in the new disc. Her hands tremble over the keyboard as the huge directory of files begins loading. "I don't even know where to start, there are so many possibilities!"
Nibbling on her lip a moment, Adora suggests, "Search for my name." When Bow and Entrapta both fix her with curious stares, she tosses her hands innocently. "What? I'm curious."
"Adora," Bow begins slowly, eyes unrelenting and full of concern, "are you sure that's a good idea?"
"No," she answers honestly.
"Well, let's see," muses Entrapta. "Hmm, the files only seem to date back thirteen years…"
"Oh, yeah. This is only the first batch," explains Bow. "They're doing it reverse chronologically, that's all they had done before we left this morning."
"Of course, because the newer stuff is more likely to be relevant," concludes Entrapta. "That was wise of them. And thirteen years in less than forty-eight hours is pretty good, actually."
"There's a big team working on it. And apparently lots of them are diagrams or short memos," Bow says with a shrug.
Ignoring him, Entrapta looks over her shoulder at Adora. "Do you also want me to start with the new, Adora?"
"Uh…" Adora's brow furrows as she considers this. "No. Start at the beginning."
"Okay! Five year-old Adora, coming right up!"
Bow leans in, jostling Adora with his elbow. "Awww."
"Now this I gotta hear!" exclaims Swift Wind, trotting over. He maneuvers his large rear past the coffee table and tries to perch on the empty cushion beside Adora while Entrapta scrolls through the records. After several disastrous attempts he gives up and flops on the floor with a dramatic huff. "Why does no one ever have a chair for me?"
"Next time, buddy," says Bow.
"Okay, you guys ready?" Entrapta calls over her shoulder.
Steeling herself, Adora says, "Sure."
"Adora continues to show promise, but her clumsiness has persisted as her growth has levelled off," reads Entrapta. "Something to observe as she develops."
Chuckling at her expense, Swift Wind remarks, "Clearly that never went away."
Adora kicks him in the snout. "Shut up, Swift Wind."
Entrapta continues to read the entries, which are a hodgepodge of training notes and general observations. There are a couple mishaps in places where Shadow Weaver used the word "adorable" in her notes, but to be fair it's not often. This is Shadow Weaver, after all.
"Adora's unit performed well today, adapting seamlessly to the surprise attack in the battle sim."
Bow's eyes bulge. "You were doing battle sims at five?"
Blinking impassively, Adora deadpans, "It's the Horde, Bow."
"Excuse me, I wasn't done!" calls Entrapta. Clearing her throat, she resumes the recitation. "Her leadership skills are improving. Under my continued tutelage, she will make a great Force Captain one day."
The feeling of blood pooling in her cheeks makes Adora squirm. She shouldn't be enjoying compliments from Shadow Weaver. Chuckling to cover her discomfort, she cracks, "Yeah, literally one day." She elbows Bow. "Am I right?"
Face falling into his palm, Bow groans, "Oh my gods, you sound like George."
"Who's George?" asks Adora, squinting curiously.
"Uh…" Bow's eyes dart around nervously, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. Suddenly his face lights up as he waves at the door. "Oh, hey guys!"
Turning her head, Adora finds Catra and Scorpia standing in the doorway. Catra surveys the group, one hand planted on her hip. "Uh, what's going on?"
"Entrapta's reading us a bunch of Shadow Weaver's old journal entries about baby Adora," says Bow.
"Awww, really?" squeaks Scorpia, clacking her claws. She bounces on her toes as she makes her way over to Entrapta. "Did she have a hair poof back then, too?"
Entrapta hums, tapping her chin. "It doesn't say."
Cocking an unimpressed eyebrow, Catra deadpans, "This is how we're going to fight off the Horde?"
"Oh, no! This is just for fun!" exclaims Entrapta. Her voice and demeanor calm considerably just for a moment as she greets Scorpia with a smile and a peck on the lips. "Hi, babe."
"Hey, you." Scorpia beams down at her as she straightens up from the kiss. "I missed you."
"Missed me? You were barely gone half an hour," Entrapta remarks as she turns back to the screens. "Fascinating, we'll have to discuss this more later."
Scorpia's face begins to fall just for a second, long enough for Catra's stomach to clench and sink in sympathy. But Scorpia pulls the smile back on just as quickly, patting Entrapta's head with her pincer. As she takes her customary seat beside her girlfriend, Entrapta reads out, "Today Adora tried to fight a ten year-old in combat training, despite Cobalt's warnings, and ended up in the infirmary. She said she could do it, and she did, but at what cost? I don't know what I'm going to do with that girl."
Catra cackles as she wanders over to the couch, her suddenly piqued interest more than enough to distract her from her concern for Scorpia. "Oh, is it Roast Adora hour? I want in."
"Of course you do," huffs Adora, rolling her eyes as Catra plops down beside her. Catra just flashes a fang in return as she leans back, lounging against the arm of the couch.
Adora's just sitting there, minding her own business when Catra decides that it's a good idea to sling her legs across Adora's lap. Her eyes sparkle with mischief and Adora narrows hers, trying and failing to suppress the blush returning to her cheeks. It's a clear move of not only affection, but possession and dominance, and Adora doesn't want Catra to think she can push her around (even if she maybe sort of likes it a little). But she's a thirsty woman being offered an oasis, how can she not drink?
She settles for flicking one of Catra's soles in retaliation, just hard enough for it to be annoying but not painful. But when Catra scoffs and starts to pull her legs back, Adora grabs onto her ankles and holds them still. Catra's eyebrows shoot sky high, waggling slightly. Her voice is sugary sweet and full of mockery when she purrs, "Called your bluff, princess."
Adora's blush deepens and she glares down at the floor, but she doesn't let go of Catra's ankles. She's already humiliated herself, might as well keep the spoils of war.
"Adora scored well in her tactics exam today," says Entrapta. "She is clearly working hard in the classroom as well as the training rooms."
"See?" Adora says emphatically, desperate to salvage a shred of her pride. Gesturing at the screens, she tells Catra, "They're not all bad."
"Of course not," groans Catra, rolling her eyes and letting her head loll back. She knows now that their relationship wasn't always that positive, but that doesn't change the fact that Shadow Weaver was enamored with Adora. Obsessed, even. "Shadow Weaver loved you. Big surprise there."
"Yeah, not quite the word I'd use for it," mutters Adora.
Catra's ears droop slightly. When she lifts her head to peek at Adora, she finds her frowning at her lap and can't help but grimace. Digging a heel into Adora's thigh to get her attention, she gives her an apologetic little mouth twitch. It's not a lot, but it's enough to make Adora smile again and rub a thumb over her shin. The affection eases Catra's guilt enough to let her relax into the couch with a sigh. This is nice.
"Adora's attachment to the mongrel persists, despite years of interference."
Catra's heart stutters, her stomach dropping into her bowels. Her right hand clenches, claws tearing into the upholstery as it forms a fist.
"This is becoming a serious obstacle to my plans for her," Entrapta continues as the blood drains from Catra's head, leaving her cheeks icy and numb. "Further interventions may be required."
Fighting the lightheaded feeling trying to steal her consciousness, Catra focuses on breathing slowly, deeply. She squeezes the already punctured cushion in her fist, desperate to ride this out without further incident. The lab has gone eerily silent, and though her eyes have glazed over she can feel several pairs trained on her. Now is no time for displays of weakness.
Suddenly the clatter of Entrapta's rolling chair breaks the silence. As it skids to a stop, she begins clapping her hands together excitedly. "Ooo, Adora, did you have a pet?"
The ringing in Catra's ears grows louder, the weight on her chest heavier. Entrapta's voice fades away as her eyes roll back and she sinks into the depths.
"What was it? What was its name? Tell me every…"
Catra's eyes flew open, darting around wildly as she flipped off her back and landed on all fours. Her shallow breaths and pounding heartbeat filled her ears as her eyes adjusted to the near pitch blackness, allowing her to get her bearings.
She was in a cage, that was the first thing she gathered. The thin metal bars dug into her hands and feet, surrounded her on all sides. Though several other cages littered the various tables and shelves around the room, none of them appeared to be occupied. But they had been, not long ago. She could smell the lingering scent of fear. It permeated the air, adding to her panic. Catra whimpered, tail lashing in distress. This was a bad place. She had to get home, she had to find-
Catra's glowing eyes bulged in the darkness as her thoughts encountered a gaping void. She couldn't remember. Who did she have to find? Where was she supposed to be? This was all wrong. She was scared and she missed… who did she miss? Catra couldn't remember that either. All she knew right then was how terrified and alone she was.
Eyes flashing around her prison, she zeroed in on a square section of bars in the ceiling of the cage. A door. A way out. Clambering up the wall, she shimmied along the ceiling bars and batted at the door, but it didn't budge. There was a latch of some kind holding it shut. Catra could see it, touch it, but she couldn't get it to release. Not by batting, scratching, pounding. Her movements grew more frantic until she lost her grip and fell.
Flailing in midair, Catra managed to twist just enough to land on her side before hitting the bars hard. She gripped her aching arm, glaring up at the unyielding latch. Her eyes narrowed, studying it for weaknesses, but before she could figure anything out her thoughts were interrupted by a whooshing sound. The sound of a pair of heavy boots followed, then another whoosh and a slamming sound. A door.
"She should be awake by now," said a gravelly male voice, filtering in from what must have been an adjoining room. Catra could see the outline of the door, now that she was looking for it.
The bootsteps stopped. "Is there a problem?"
"I am not going to waste my time on that scrawny little furball." The sharpness of the second voice startled Catra, her breath catching in her chest. "At least the lizard types grow tall and strong, but not the Magicats," the woman continued. "What's the point?"
"They have other talents," answered her companion.
"Talents?" The woman laughed derisively. "Like what?"
"Superior visual and aural acuity. Superior reflexes, agility, and footspeed. High intellect, on average. Not to mention deadly weapons in their hands and feet. This child won't be a brawler, but she could eventually be useful in a more specialized role."
"We already have mouse traps in the Fright Zone," drawled the woman, an obvious lilt of amusement in her tone.
"Your ignorance does not imply intelligence, Shadow Weaver," the man replied, sounding annoyed to say the least. "If you are the teacher you claim to be, I dare say you could make a Force Captain out of anyone."
"I am able to teach so well because I reserve my efforts for those who actually have potential, rather than wasting time on cannon fodder. It was the same in Mystacor, I taught exclusively the most gifted students."
"Teaching only inherently talented students does not make you a good teacher, it makes you a coward," declared the man. "A good teacher can mine a diamond in the rough, look beyond appearances."
"That animal is no diamond," argued Shadow Weaver. "No one could ever make it Force Captain material. Magicats are unruly, uncooperative, unsuited for the military."
"Then consider it a challenge. You are to keep a special eye on her, like you do your Adora. Am I understood?"
"I do not have the t-"
"AM I UNDERSTOOD?!"
Catra jumped at the booming voice, flattening on the floor of the cage. Her ears perked back up to detect any signs of danger, but her frightened pants and whimpers were all that filled the air for a long, tense moment.
Finally Shadow Weaver replied, her compliant tone tainted with barely restrained rage. "As you wish, Lord Hordak. I will do my best, but don't say I didn't warn you." Her voice grew louder as she continued, almost like she was coming closer, but there were no accompanying footsteps. "I can't make a Force Captain of just anyone."
The door between them flew upward, revealing a figure in flowing red robes and a terrifying mask hovering in the doorway. Catra hissed and scrambled back until she hit the bars, unable to take her eyes off the threat. The woman's inky black hair billowed as though carried by the wind and her eyes glowed an angry white, a pale red stone set between them flashing ominously.
She began to float (float!) closer and her companion followed, an equally terrifying figure with glowing red eyes clad in metal armor. He made weird noises when he moved, something mechanical and unnatural.
"But I can make a soldier out of anyone," said Shadow Weaver as they reached the cage, her burning gaze locked on Catra.
Catra growled at the intruders, her ears folding back and claws protracting instinctively.
"Don't you dare bare your claws at me, you little mongrel," snapped Shadow Weaver.
Suddenly Catra was grateful for the bars surrounding her, protecting her from this woman. The second she reached out to unlatch the door Catra lunged forward and snapped her jaw at her, all her fur standing on end. It was an ingrained reflex to make her look bigger, but she was still so tiny. Too tiny to procure any reaction other than a chilling, condescending laugh.
With a mere flick of her hand, red lightning shot from Shadow Weaver's fingertips and claimed Catra in its grasp. It froze her in place, a cold burning sensation running through her skin and paralyzing her muscles. The pain overwhelmed Catra's senses, but the worst part was the utter helplessness as she watched Shadow Weaver unlatch the cage. She couldn't run, couldn't fight, couldn't shrink away as a sickly gray hand closed in on her.
Grabbing the scruff of Catra's neck, Shadow Weaver lifted her from the cage with one hand and held her in mid air, dangling barely a foot from her mask. "Yes, my lord," she said, staring straight into Catra's eyes. "If you insist, I can and will tame this little beast."
A jolt of pure terror shot through Catra's nerves and next thing she knew warm liquid was streaming down her thighs, seeping into her pants and fur. Shadow Weaver cried out in disgust, wrenching her arm out of the way. But it was too late - there was already a wet spot on her sleeve. Those terrifying eyes flashed in anger, rendering Catra mute before she could attempt to apologize or say it was an accident.
Lord Hordak roared with laughter at Shadow Weaver's side, only serving to infuriate her further. Her eyes narrowed, her grip on Catra tightening.
"Disgusting creature," she hissed, hurling her away.
Catra soared through the air in what felt like slow motion, still paralyzed and unable to twist or brace for impact. When she crashed into the wall, everything went black.
A/N: This chapter is a two-parter and the second half is coming along well. I usually post two-parters at the same time but I figured you guys had waited long enough for an update. You'll get the resolution and some quality hurt/comfort soon enough. :)