A/N: She-ra and the Princess of power were made by J. Michael Straczynski and Larry DiTillio, I only take credit for my own added character's and storylines. Similarly, any references will be attributed to their original creators when they pop up.
Recommended story: You Got Cool by explosionshark
A fun, 6 chapter story in an Au where Catra and Adora a childhood friends that attend different schools. Somehow, even in a different universe, both a completely in love with the other while also being at the other's throat.
I post on both A03 and FanFiction, take your pick in whichever you prefer to read.~.
I hope you enjoy!
Book X: Of Time & Concept
Chapter 3 ~ The Weight of the Light III
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Content Warning! There will be implied depression, BPD, suicidal thoughts and other similar themes. If any of the above is something you are not comfortable with, then you might want to skip this fic.
If not, welcome to the gem! Enjoy!
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Her skin itched. It was closer to a burn, more often than not. She could barely restrain the urge to claw her skin as she forced herself to teach.
It was a constant reminder. Forbidding her from forgetting, a constant presence that was etched whenever she closed her eyes. But it wasn't only in her mind. Couldn't only be inside and not out.
Her formerly pale skin was now shaded in a sickly grey; no matter how much of her skin she covered, it was impossible to not note the abnormal colour decorating her skin.
She hated it. Loathed it to the point where she sometimes found herself wishing for nothing more than the world to fall apart around her.
Ironic, as the world truly seemed to be falling apart nowadays.
And she took no shortage of pleasure knowing Mystacor was at the centre of the chaos. Somewhat guiltily, she supposed. The council itself was only made up of seven members, after all, blaming the entire Kingdom for choices made of seven was perhaps somewhat unfair of her.
But then again; the council was its people's representatives. Mystacors representative. Unlike every other Kingdom in Etheria, it selected which members would rule over its people.
And it was so very difficult to not find the distrust in others stares.
As if the world wished to spite her further, she caught the sight of an approaching figure as she gave her last words for the day's lesson.
More often than not, she felt that teaching was the only form of pleasure she was capable of; be it the one teaching, or the one taught. Or, at least nowadays, she thought.
"Head Sorcerer Norwyn." She greeted cooly, voice laced with far too polite respect.
"...Sorcerers Light-Spinner." And oh, she could admit she took just a bit of vindicating pleasure in the masked loathing glare he wished to send her. "I hope you haven't forgotten we have a conference today." He proceeded pointedly.
"Of course not." She nods, meeting his gaze with steel. "As I hope you haven't forgotten it's after I teach my class."
His jaw tightened; a reluctant nod before storming off nonetheless.
Which. That might have been more intimidating if they both weren't walking the same path towards the same conference.
Oh. She had no doubt he felt entirely justified in his loathing. That it was entirely her fault Mystacor had been dragged into the war. That it's mages were now required to fight in the war.
Which she was just fine with. She loathed the man just as much. As far as she was concerned, the Horde might have been the instrument that killed Ange, but it'd been Mystacors sabotage that had wielded it.
Perhaps, it was because Mystacor would have gotten away with it. Would have hidden the fact that the Horde had found them by sheer luck, and not a cut in what they'd promised in the safehouse's protection. Protections that they'd promised would be enough.
Should have been enough, she thought bitterly, arriving at the council's chamber; barely listening to the commencing ceremony as she walked towards her stand.
Not a day went past when she didn't dream the dread of watching the barriers be found, easily torn apart as she watched them fall. As if the sky was falling right above us. She always remembered that fear.
And they would have washed their hands and whispered with lies. Because no one would have survived. Etheria would have never known its symbol of hope had been killed from Mystacors negligence.
Only that wasn't quite how it went. Because she'd survived. Scarred, disabled, disfigured perhaps. But Ange had made sure to tare apart the entire army. Had made it look easy, even; at least before she drove herself to her death.
Dark magic was feared for that reason. But Light-Spinner would be damned if it wasn't a terrifying boost to one's abilities.
But oh, the council had lied anyway. Attempting to spin her contact with dark magic as her own mistake, as they put as much distance as they could master between them.
They failed. Not quite in absolutes; but a failure was a failure still. Mystacor had been forced to join the Alliance, lest they be accused of aiding the Horde. Micah and herself were even placed into the council, with enough pull to leave the war at a standstill, if a bloody one at that.
And here she was, decades after the war had started needing magic to even be able to walk. Her entire life remains dedicated to a bloody conflict with no end in sight.
She was so, so tired.
There were days where it was very difficult to not hate the world around her.
Those were usually the days she didn't stare at the mirror in disgust.
But she had a war to finish. So veiling her thoughts with perfect ease, she walked towards the centre of the council, hand hovering over the crystal water as she poured her magic.
"As of last night," She commences, eyes darting around the room as she studies each member's expression, "our main trading route with Salines has been overtaken by the Horde." It's not something they need, since Mystacors is an archipelago of floating islands that can resupply in any Kingdom. That, however, is not an advantage the other Kingdoms have. And without the alliance with those other Kingdoms, the Horde would turn the entirety of their forces against Mystacor. There was a vicious need to say 'I told you so', but she refrained from showing any poisonous words. As satisfying as it would be, it wouldn't assist the alliance. "Without it, not only are we severely cut off from our main supply's, but also cut off from one of the core kingdoms of the alliance. We can no longer stand for this!" The images she shows are dramatic and morbid, not entirely real but enough that no one could prove them false.
And it works. Within seconds eyes stare in horror, her lips barely hide the sneer behind her veil.
She feels disgusted and contemptuous. At all of them.
It's because of them Ange had died an empty death.
Because no matter how much Light Spinner had tried, it was because of her that-
"We can make a difference." She places her hand on the water. "We can so easily stop this." She repeats, illusions forming as a complex circle of arrays appear at the centre. "The Spell of Obtainment would allow us to push back the Horde from our lands. To end this war."
"The Spell of Obtainment is forbidden, Light-Spinner." Norwyn interrupts. "It leaches power, turning the caster into a parasite if not killing all involved outright."
"If used without precaution." She counters, eyes narrowing at the man's glare. "Tonight, three of the moons will align." There is power in reinforcement; it is so very rare for any two moons to align perfectly. Much less three. "It will serve as a focus, allowing us to control the excess power by connecting with the planet itself. It will effectively create a one-way connection with an infinite power source. With Ehteria."
"I will not allow our people to mutilate themselves." He snarls, all pretences of politeness dropping.
"So you'd do nothing instead?" 'Again' echoes silently in the chamber. She knows he hears it; the dangerous flash in his eyes tells her as much. "Refuse to ensure our people's survival? Our planet's survival?"
"The Princess will resolve this conflict, as they have always done." He spits, disgust so clear in his voice. "There is no need to employ such twisted spells."
For a moment, Light Spinner stares. Ange's mutilated body stares back, a ghost of a smile as she collapses, the dark magic leaving nothing but ash as silence feels the plane.
And then Norwyn's hand moves, removing the image of her circle without bothering to give it a second glance.
"If we don't employ such twisted spells," She hisses coldly, "then we're doomed the next generation to war."
Cowards. Every single one of them is such a hypocritical coward.
"A war of ideas." He counters. A tone that implies ideals are something worth fighting for. "Something you've forgotten in recent years."
"Better dead children than elders, is it?" She hisses back. Aware of the shocked stares from the other members.
Every single one of them.
Holding their tongue without a word to be said. Rather follow a repeated doomed process than try and succeed.
"I hold no wish to send children to war." He counters with a scowl. "You seem to forget I held no wish to enter this conflict, to begin with."
"Indeed?" She snaps disgusted. "Why, yes. I recall something along the lines of it being someone else's problem. Much like it's someone else's problem now. This spell is the only chance to get the power needed to win us the war. And you'd throw it away for your conscience. Bury your head in the sand as other's die for your consciousness.
"I will fight for what our people believe in." His teeth creek against each other. "That means I will not forsake what they believe in." His hand waves. A sharp, single movement. "Some power," he maintains, "is not meant for you."
"...Then I hope you remember those words when Mystacor comes crumbling down."
She doesn't meet Micah's gaze; filled with so much pity.
She never does quite figure out whether it's because of her, or because of him.
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She attempts the spell anyway.
It's something that she's studied for months. Carefully replacing and implementing sections that might as well be considered a spell of their own.
And Micah does agree that it's their best option. Unlike the rest of the council, he's more than aware of the need for sacrifice. That victory is no longer an objective, but a demand.
But... she notices that he becomes weary. A slight doubt at first, slowly growing into more hesitant manners as he starts to create some distance between them.
And-
And maybe, she shouldn't have been surprised. Should have expected Micah to break the spell, to allow the entire array of spells to crumble around her as her magic is slowly twisted and torn out.
Perhaps.
Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
At some point, maybe, she might have looked back. Might have wondered where she'd gone wrong. If perhaps, there'd been a decision she'd made incorrectly.
But if there was, then it's not one she's ever found.
She hates this world. It's based on wrongness that they all take so much pride in. That they believe is correct while she can barely stop herself from clawing her skin at its wrongness.
The Princess will solve it.
Believe in friendship.
The power of love.
She giggles. Slightly.
She thinks she might understand now. When the spell absorbs her. When she's trapped in the centre of nothing with nought but the abyss.
Because.
The princess failed. Petty disputes and wounded pride are what tear this world apart.
Friendship is a fragile string. Easily broken the moment aside is tainted.
And then there's love.
And then there's love.
What is evil, if one exists in a world where evil is good?
In the abyss of the spell, nothing but herself stares back.
She doesn't snap.
Because that would imply she has anything left to break.
She doesn't.
To prove her point, Norwyn enters the chamber with the council hot on his heel. A look of disgust crossed his expression as he met her gaze.
And again; she can't help but let out a giggle. The memory of Ange laying down her life for these people as they do nothing but hide with fake pride.
And at that moment, as they cast their spells when she does nothing but half stand injured, she realises that for all her hatred for these people, for all her disgust for them, she also feels pity.
When she was younger. So more inexperienced and naive, she would edit and add to the spell's diagram, trying to fix a mistake with another as the circle drew more complex and intricate.
But in others-
In other's, she found it better to tare it apart. To start over from nothing and build from the ground up.
Bringing the chamber down is easy. A slight pull to the barriers focuses here, a slight push there.
Norwyn tries to stop her. As does the council, as do the guards.
As does Micah.
They fail.
"You should have never been allowed to live. I see now what my predecessor saw." Norwyn hisses, islands collapsing around him as he lets out a low hiss. "A monster in hiding, wearing the guise of human clothing, twisted beyond recognition for a quest of power."
"Every individual is a monster. Some just fool themselves into believing otherwise." She replies coldly, watching faintly mesmerized as the entire Kingdom of floating archipelago comes tumbling down.
"You're insane." He hisses, a spell not even half-formed as her own already travels through his heart.
"That's where you're wrong." She snarls back. "I survived. Unlike you, I do anything to continue. Unlike you, I am not weak." Because her life is the only thing she has left from Ange. A curse in the guise of a blessing. A last gift of a broken memory. "I told you before, didn't I? Remember what you have doomed as Mystacor crumbles down. This?" She laughs coldly, both hands stretched as the sky alights aflame. "This is because you refused to do what needed to be done."
But he's already dead. An end of something old.
That's fine. She's only just started. A beginning of something better.
"You lacked the will to do what was necessary." She finally whispered, gazing almost mesmerized at the blazing sky. "There is a price for every power. Your mistake? You assumed there'd be no price in ignoring the problem entirely."
As are most on the crumbling archipelago. Nothing but the single island she stands on remains as her eyes meet Micah's.
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"Adora!" Shadow Weaver stills, watching as the girl falls from the pile of boxes as she whimpers painfully. "Are you okay?" Catra panics, jumping down as she quickly
"Y-Yeah!" Adora forces a smile; more of a grimace as she waves the child's panic away. "It bruised, but it's nothing that-"
"What do you think you are doing?" She finds herself hissing, eyes narrowed dangerously as both girls jump wide-eyed.
"I-I, we were playing hide and seek," Adora explains nervously. "Catra hid at the top of the boxes so I tried climbing." Shifting uncomfortably as she cradled her arm, she offered an apologetic smile. "I lost my balance and fell."
"Yeah. It was only a game." Catra nods, sending Adora another concerned glance. "I'm sorry, I didn't think-"
"Enough." She interrupts blankly. "You-"
A whisper of explosion and screams echo in her mind. Of blood and fear. Memories of failure and death flashing in her eyes.
And at that moment, she sees Ange. She sees Ange, cradling her injured arm. And at her side is Light Spinner.
Light Spinner who caused her injury.
Light Spinner, who will cause her death.
"Adora," She continues, her tone still blank as she points towards the door. "Have your arm checked."
"Oh, um-, okay." She mumbles, walking towards the door as Light Spinner follows suit.
"Only Adora." Shadow Weaver adds with a sharp tone, arm gripping tightly around Light Spinner's shoulder.
Catra blinks, letting out a pained yelp at the tight grip. "But-"
Adora's blue eyes widened, a faint hint of panic reflecting on her eyes. "Shadow Weaver-"
"Do as I say." She snaps, easily pushing the other out as her grip on the insolent child tightens. "Now leave."
With a wave of her hand, the door slams shut behind her. Only the faint light of the room highlights the edges of the room.
"It seems," Her tone wavers, something poisonous filling her voice as her eyes slowly dart towards the girls. "that I have been far too lax with you."
Light Spinner whimpers, mismatched eyes widening as something echoing to a sob escapes her throat. "I-"
"Make no mistake, you ill-fated child." She continues, a faint spark snapping at her fingers. "That is something I will be rectifying. Immediately."
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"Prisoner 004626" A voice echoes throughout the cell. Shadow Weaver blinks awake, broken mask rising as her eyes dart towards the guards standing at the entrance of her prison. "You are to be sentenced to Beast Island as of the next transport leave." She continues. A well-held voice, almost how Shadow Weaver liked the guards to hold themselves.
Well, she would have, had it not been for the clear vindicate satisfaction in her tone.
"We were even nice enough to bring you a last meal." Another adds, throwing her a food bar that crumbles as it hits the floor. "It's the one you ordered to be made. We hope you enjoy it."
The masks hide their expression; the armour hides their body language. And yet, the tone is of clear satisfaction.
She doesn't need to look to see their smiles.
It is not from kindness she knows.
And blankly, she stares up to the ceiling. Backtracking her steps as she tries to ponder where she went wrong.
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I sometimes post art of my fanfics here:
Deviantart: sapphireandemeralds
Twitter: SappandEmr
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I think the main reason I'm struggling so much with writing this is because of how I'm trying to portray Shadow Weaver. I'm kind of uncomfortable with writing her, which means I'm kind of putting off writing her altogether. I just always wished there'd be more of a 'how we got to this point' from Shadow Weaver. Her being manipulative and sociopathic for four seasons, only to sacrifice herself at the end of season five was a little...
I mean, there were some few hints, yeah, but... well, I wrote what I felt would make her more human while also fitting neatly into original canon Shadow Weaver. Ah, well, I say human but maybe it's more... individualistic?
Yeah. Trying to write philosophy on humans while also writing said story on a planet with multiple sapient species is a bit of a headache.
But anyway! Book 2 is making a start, I'm super excited to start -even though I have no idea how to- that next chapter. This will focus more on the multiple political factions that formed over the years as well as Catra trying to pull the Horde into said mess. Yes, she'll be doing so while they kick and scream. Does she care? Not really.
On a final note, if you thought I should have written something differently, be it personality and/or displays of different states of mentality, a different conversation, or a different story idea, please leave a comment! I always love hearing what people have to say, especially when I get to brainstorm for ways to improve this fic! Any advice is welcome and appreciated! Always.
Anyways, Ill See you next time! Chao!
~ Sapphire and Emeralds