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.
I post on both A03 and FanFiction, take your pick in whichever you prefer to read.~.
I hope you enjoy!
Book 2: Of Schemes & Gathering
Chapter 7 ~ Starting the Plan
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The engine hummed in an almost melodic rattle. It echoed with the barely noticeable reverb of shifting clattering as The Hermit's structure oscillated with the most gentle of rocking.
Major Fane stretched, arms raised as his spine crackled with a satisfying crack. Quite ironically, the vessel's bedding was of a far higher quality than what one could find in the centre of the Hordes Capital. For all the nightmares and horror his job assignment should and did bring, not a night had gone passed where he hadn't slept like a princess. Not that it was a high standard to pass, of course, but it was still a far more pleasant sleep than one could expect.
He was unsure as to what time it was, having been called by the team's current monitor rather than being awoken by his alarm. Likely still some point near midday, he considered. He wasn't needed for duty for another few hours after all. It was tricky to tell, with nothing but the naval crafts' artificial lighting to guide him through the ship.
Quite gloomy as well, once you spent enough weeks constantly under the surface. But this was an important job – not to mention so very revolutionary.
The Designated Vagabonds were made up of seventy-three soldiers, most of who were more heavily geared towards pilots and engineers that were redeployed from their decommissioned tanks and ships rather than the more commonly seen footsoldiers that were all too common throughout the Horde. They also carried five passengers, all of whom were from the newly implemented research and development department.
Their team had two main objectives; the first, and the reason behind the passenger's presence, was the discovery and study of the First One's sunken ship that had been discovered just a few months ago by the Commander. It'd been the more pleasant of the two objectives, with many of the soldiers finding an actual rare amount of enjoyment from their duty. Quite often, though only when off duty, personnel would be found watching the researchers study and analyse the technology that, even now, completely baffled the Horde's understanding.
The second objective was the less pleasant of the two jobs, and the driving reason behind the large number of present engineers in the makeshift submergible vessel. The Hermes, to which the Vagabond had been assigned was a newly developed and still very much experimental prototype. The data their collected, both from functioning and far more importantly, failing systems and parts were carefully monitored and developed, only on occasions reaching a point where they had to surface to the two stationed ships above them for required repairs and analysis.
Not an entirely pleasant thought, seeing how one of those systems was the need to surface from hundreds of metres underwater. Even less pleasant was knowing that another of those systems was the production of oxygen.
He tried to not duel on it, lest he starts to lose far too valuable sleep over it.
Sleep. Bedding. He forced his mind to shift to pleasanter parts of his life as he reached the vessel's command centre.
"Major Fane, reporting at request. Identification Code; HS-F74026" The two guards salute, as the doors open, letting into what, for all purposes is a smallish room in comparison to the rest of the vessel.
"Major on deck," One of the guards announces before the door shuts behind him. The available members stand to salute, though it's somewhat lacking in the sharpness and discipline that they'd possessed when they'd first met some months prior.
He can't claim to mind. As long as they still present the minimum required respect he's more than happy to cut them some slack. "Captain," He greets politely, "You called?"
"Major," The man nods, eyes returning to the spherical table at the centre, a hologram of the vessel's hull integrity floating at its centre, slowly revolving as if to show how carefully designed it had been. "Yes. My apologies for interrupting your sleep." He turns to meet his gaze even as another soldier comes to his side with a tablet in hand. "Sir, as of 09:37, we lost contact with Vagabond-04. Initially, we assumed it was another technical error, attempting to reestablish contact with the team."
"I'm assuming that didn't work itself out?"
"Affirmative," The man grimaced, swiping a finger over the table as it swapped into a grid. "It has now passed the 90 minutes since the required schedule, and, at your command, we will declare this a state of emergency."
Fane frowned, staring at the grid in what was assumed to have been the last location of the Vagabond 04. "Captain, when was the last successful check?"
"As of 9:31," He replied grimly. "No notable issues, Sir."
"And during the 04's deployment? Was there anything worth noting?"
"None that was memorable." The captain verifies, showing him the report. "As scheduled, Vagabond 04 was deployed at 05:03, all three crew members reported expected standard performance."
"I see." He allowed his thoughts to dwell on it for a moment. Carefully, he contemplates just how much time they truly have left. "Seven hours?" He asks contemplatively.
"If the worst comes to pass, yes." After a moment of hesitation, however, the captain's expression turns firm. "However, they are experienced soldiers. Ideally, they should be able to stay alive for ten."
Fane's frown deepens fingers tapping at the edge of the table as he nods slowly. "Permission granted, bring them back to us, Captain."
"Sir" The man nods, hastily leaving towards one of the Hordes robots to input its commands.
Thoughts still pondering, Fane walks towards the Sonar, ignoring the way the many bridge personnel glances at him. Perhaps foolishly, he hopes to spot something that the combined crew have been unable to spot in the past few hours.
"Anything unusual?" He mouths more than he says. Feeling oddly out of place at the sheer quietness of the emergency.
"Nothing noticeable, no." The woman sighs, removing the headphone from one of her ears. "Then again, I wouldn't be all that surprised if I missed something. It's like the whole ocean is out to make itself known."
"That bad?" The man asks curiously, unsure as to what she's referring to.
Instead of answering, she removes the headphone, lazily handing them over to him.
Not one to lack curiosity, he wears the headset, frowning as he realises what she's conveying. There's a low, reverberating echo at the back of the sound, blocked out by many unrecognisable sounds that he can't begin to make sense of. Similar yet so different to the sounds the vessel makes, longer, more sinister. Quite, yet also louder in that very silence.
On occasions, there's an echo of something else. It's often enough that he knows not to make a note of it, but the chilling sound sounds much like a beast ready to tear both him and the vessel into halves.
Grimacing, he takes the headset off. With a sympathetic expression, he returns the device with perhaps the barest hint of pity.
"Yeah," The woman sighs, placing the headset back on as she sends him a tired smile. "Now try listening to this for two freaking hours straight. Trust me, it is my last idea of fun."
Fane smiles faintly, expression entirely understanding as he continues to study the sonar's image. No, he imagines it wouldn't be all that fun, would it?
Remembering the almost pulsing-like noise, a shiver travels through his spine. Hands firmly grasped behind his back, he returns to the centre of the deck. It's a waiting game, now, and he needed to be ready for when they found the 04 crew. Here's hoping everything works itself out, Fane regards with growing weariness.
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It wasn't a rare sight, nowadays. Quite the opposite in fact; it was a rare week when she didn't visit the library every other day.
Such was the case that she'd long since found her favourite place to laze with her books. An undisturbed windowsill at the edge of the room, close enough to one of the tables that she could keep a pile of books, large enough for her to sit on, yet narrow enough that she could comfortably sway her tail.
Indeed, it was a windowsill to raise jealousy from even the most cheerful and placating of individuals. Truly, Catra was a fortunate woman to have discovered such luxurious seating.
Less fortuitous being that everyone knew her spot, now. From the most random of strangers that somehow knew her name, too-
"Hi, Clara!"
Catra hides a wince, raising her head from her surprisingly fascinating book. "Note." She greets, offering a quick if polite nod before returning to her book.
"What ya reading?" Note grins, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the title.
"A book." Her tone carries with the faintest of drawls, lips twitching despite herself. "I thought you had work?"
"I did," He nods sagely, expression shifting into a resigned sigh. "I was. However, I miscalculated, and now I'm dealing with a pair of conspiring fathers."
"Oh?"
"Ah, don't worry about it. Seriously," He repeats, tone somewhat more sombre. "Don't worry about it." He tilts his head, hand lazily twirling his sandy curls as his expression turns knowing. "I don't think they've realised it yet."
"Oh?" Catra stresses, curious despite knowing better.
"Ouch, where did you get that relic from?" Note hums, ignoring her prodding as he brushes the title off the very worn cover.
Which; rude.
"If you must know, your father lent it to me." Catra huffs, only not pulling the book away in fear of tearing its fragile spine.
"And are you enjoying it?"
"Eh. So-so." She lied, finding herself engrossed through every line. "It's been pretty badly damaged. Half of the pages take more time to figure out than it'd take to read half a book." Which was annoying. The little she could decipher was so very fascinating.
"True, that." Note simply hums, nodding to himself before offering a mischievous smile. "Well, if that's the case, perhaps now you'd be willing-"
"Answer's still no."
"Why not?" The man pouts, having the audacity to be adorable about it.
Rubbing under her eye, she gives him the most unimpressed glance she can muster. "I have a full-time job. As interesting as music might be," Thought for the life of her, she really can't see it. "I really don't have time for it."
"Ouch," The man sighs. "You have enough time to visit the library."
Catra tilts back, face leaning into her hand as she raises an eyebrow. "Ouch indeed."
Rolling his eyes, he grabs the closest chair, crossing his arms in what can only be an attempt to guilt trip her into an agreement. Cute or not, he's decades away from reaching either Scorpias or Entraptas level.
Not to mention centuries from Emily's.
Having the wisdom to know a losing battle, he instead reaches for one of the books from her growing pile. After some moments, he hummed to himself in an insufferable degree of cheer. "By A.S.? Are all these books from Dad's private collection?"
Catra shrugs, returning to her book even as she offers an unanimated nod. "Most of them, at least. How'd you guess?"
"Please, there's not a single one of my brothers that didn't break into their private shelves at least... actually, we did it pretty much every other night. Had an oscillating timetable to cover each other for it as well." And suddenly, Catra remembered just why she tolerated Lance and George's son.
Despite herself, she lets out an amused snort. "That I can believe." Still, she can't help but wonder. "And how did you recognise an economics book? I thought your passion was music, not numbers."
"It's one of those books." He opens the last page, showing a square metrically drawn within squares, chaotic shapes and places that seem to have no rime or reason adorn the inside of the cover with no rime or reason to be seen. "Books like these get burnt by the Iglesia without question. Having one is big trouble if you get caught."
Raising an eyebrow, Catra sends him a disbelieving look. "For a book?"
"Seriously," He stresses with an uncharacteristic lack of ease. "Having one gets you executed. No exception."
Blinking slowly, catra place a finger on her page. After a moment, she closes the book, staring at a similar yet differently shaped square within the square adorning the very last page. "Huh."
"Ergo, private shelves." Note nods solemnly. Only to then smile merrily. "On that note, I do have a copy of that book; If you liked it that much, that is."
Catra stares, torn between really wanting to have that book and really not wanting to admit she enjoyed it. "I wouldn't mind, since your offering." She does, however, wonder what she's ever done to deserve being surrounded by chaos-inducing maniacs. She's the chaotic one, adding more didn't make things better, it just ruined her fun. "Thought as a bribery, I find your attempt lacking."
"Oh. Well, if it's going to be a bother-"
With equal gentleness at it had firmness, Catra closes the book, pointing it menacingly at his face. Her eyes narrowed, making it very clear the dangers of the game he was trying to play. "But I certainly wouldn't mind, since your offering."
"I'd be happy to!" He smiles cheerfully.
Only for his smile to freeze as the doors slammed open.
"Note! I knew you'd be here!" Lance cheers, having the most conspiratorial grin Catra had ever seen. "George! I found him!"
Note's groan did not little to diminish her weariness. "Dad," He greeted oddly grimly.
"And what are you up to, young man?" He smiled with a strangely knowing expression.
"Nothing." Note grit out, seemingly picking on some conversation Catra was missing. "Absolutely nothing."
"Well that's no good," George sighed before offering an innocent smile. "Then how about you both help Lance and I make dinner?"
Note opened his mouth, more than ready to rebuke the man's question with gusto.
Huffing, she lowered her book, jumping off the windowsill as she gently left it on the table. She knew a lost battle when she saw one, after all.
"I was getting rather peckish anyway," Catra hummed, rather hoping the two would stop arguing at whatever they were arguing.
"…I suppose it's getting rather late." Note conceded, sending his father a glare.
She wasn't quite sure why George was smiling so smugly. Then again, she suspected that if she did know she'd be far less eager of complying.
On the table, page half blurred, the ink long since spread throughout the page, only a few words could be dissipated onto the paper:
-faithless-
-light-
-power-
-Goes on-
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Why was it, Catra wondered, that whenever I get close to solving one issue, another seems perfectly happy to multiply. A mystery for the ages, she concluded, resisting the urge to rub her forehead.
Instead, she chose the far more productive method of glaring her problems into submission. "I" She smiles sweetly, having no qualms in showing her displeasure, "Was under the strangest of impressions that our meetings were in the intention of being secret."
Lydia's face turned into an uncomfortable shade of red, awkwardly looking away as she coughed into her fist. "Ah, well…" Idly, Catra noticed her guards seeing about ready to strangle her for her rudeness. She couldn't bring herself to be particularly concerned. "It is."
"Really?" Catra purred, hoping her annoyance would be conveyed in that single word. "Then pray tell, why is it that I keep getting called into meeting high profile individuals. Repeatedly."
Burring her face into her hands, Lydia's sole defence is to let out a low, pitiful groan. "Well, I'm not the one telling. And you've only met two, that's hardly repeatedly."
"Secrets should be at zero. That's two Nicht-Nulls already."
"...What?"
"Ignore that." Catra huffs, making a note to get some more sleep at the closest opportunity. "The point is; which part of this strikes you as a not?"
"I mean… I hope you don't go calling Lady Catherine a not - or a zero for that matter! But!" She cut Catra off before she could get in a word. "I do need to point out that most people know my misgivings about the upper levels of La Iglesia. Hell, I'd be wearier if she weren't talking to us since that could only mean she was plotting against us."
Trust princesses to turn the honourable negotiation of ducking it out into a backstabbing scheming business. How very lovely of them. "That's news to me?" Catra chooses to address instead. "How do you expect to keep this secret if everyone knows?" She asks perhaps just a little bewildered.
"Ah," Lydia grimaced uncomfortably. "It's not something... when I said most people knew, I was referring to people that were high enough in social circles to know me. The number of people that can then deduce that I'd be discontent enough to involve the Horde is... disappointingly small, to say the least."
"That doesn't answer how they knew," Catra stressed unhappily. "We were very careful in any of our meetings-"
"Apart from the first time."
"With exception of the first time, yes. But how does one meeting turn into everyone throwing a chip?"
"Make it one hundred," Lydia muttered under her breath. "And I'm fairly certain it's a guess on her part. An educated guess." She corrects, perhaps noticing Catra's displeasure. "I-, Clara, it's not-, most people are tired of this war. So, so very tired of it."
"...Okay?" She had known that. Not quite in those words, true. More along the lines of the general impression when interacting with most non-rebels.
Hell, she knew it was a sentiment a growing portion of the Horde was forming.
Lydia rubbed her templates, letting out a ragged sigh. "Clara, why did you stop invading Etheria?"
"Pardon?" Catra blinked blindsided.
"You don't have to answer that question - it was more of a rhetoric, honestly. But the thing is, people noticed when you stopped expanding. They noticed twice-fold when you attended the Royal Ball. You've been establishing and solidifying borders, yes, but not growing them. It made people wonder if you'd be more open to alliances and therefore started looking as to who you'd be having alliances with."
"I know for a fact that most people don't know who's in charge of the Horde's military." And here, Catra's lips do twitch for just a moment. "Hell, people are only just catching up that Shadow Weaver isn't in charge anymore."
And she was so very amused by that tiny fact. Took an incredible amount of delight in knowing that she was the one setting the rules of this match.
Strange how, just a year ago, she knew she would have been horrified by the sheer thought of such subtlety. Hell, even six months ago the thought itself would have been such a foreign thing to consider. In the Horde, you always boasted of your strength. Stand tall, hit hard, or die seemed about right on the level of idea Catra had grown up with. That's not to say she didn't enjoy knowing the Horde was better, it's just that nowadays she prefers letting others come to the realisation. Let the horror seep in through tiny cracks of prolonged time -and all the more deeper and delicious if they were the ones realising it at that.
It certainly gave her more time to make the gap wider. People did so love lying to themselves to force any level of comfort.
"Lady Catherine is... well, you'll understand when you talk to her. She's certainly good enough to guess what we're doing, while also old enough to know that if anyone would be willing to throw their lot with your's it'd be me." Tilting her head to the side in contemplation, Lydia nodded slowly. "My guess is that she's going to see if she can work with you, and you do want her to work with you since the other two options are either ruining you or joining the alliance."
"And neither of the two is something we can afford."
"Worse, either of the two will have us destroyed." Lydia's smile turned thing. "Though if you do have to choose between the two, chose to have her join the Princesses." At seeing Catra raise an entirely judgmental eyebrow, Lydia grinned. "If I'm to watch the entirety of both of our plans burn, then I'm at least going to refuse them the satisfaction of making an example of us. Besides," She adds, cheeks blushing with just a little delighted pleasure. "If we were ever forced to be on the run, I think we'd make a pretty good pair of fugitives."
Catra isn't quite sure whether the woman's options are an exaggeration or not. Certainly, she has no plans of running even if her odds weren't looking favourable. But then again, she can somewhat reluctantly admit that were it not for the bitter rivalries between a not-so-small number of kingdoms, the Horde wouldn't be anywhere near as powerful as it was.
It's with this thought that Catra is led to a ridiculously large garden of sorts, with far too many flowers taking space that would be so much more effectively used to grow food and resources. It's a pretty sight, of course. Crystal pale decorations of water tinting the cyan of the sky, with green and colours, spread up to where the eye could see.
It was an ideal sight for princesses to meet, which she supposes was the very thought behind building the place.
Less ideal was the fact she'd been forced into a dress once again. This time one with far too much white for her to feel remotely comfortable in.
At least she'd escaped the one with the bow and ruffles. How anyone could be taken seriously with that was entirely beyond her. At least this one was simply designed to wear.
"Greetings to you, Lady of the Horde." Lady Catherine - and out of the three, it could... probably only be her - greeted, seated at a white round table, sketched from stone in a design that was probably more costly than the building of a house.
She was sensing a pattern here.
"Lady Catherine," Catra greeted with as much grace as she could muster. "It's a pleasure, I'm sure." What would now follow would be spandrels of backhanded compliments and grace, words carefully crafted as they each measured the other up until one reached their intended goal.
She could not claim to look forward to it.
Politely, she ignored the wrong – and borderline offensive - form of address, instead choosing to smile as she took an opposing seat at the table. Lydia followed suit, seemingly waiting for her to do so first before taking a seat at her right.
"Indeed," The woman smiled. Suddenly, Catra understood exactly why Lydia was so weary of this woman. "You are," And here, the woman met her gaze, seemingly searching for all the many ways to dissect her apart. "A woman with quite the built reputation. I've been quite looking forward to this."
"Thank you," Catra smiled, quite sure that it hadn't been much meant as a compliment. "But let us not dwell on mere pleasantries," She easily added in the most prissy tone Scorpia had installed. "You wanted to speak with me, and here I am." She let the sentence hang, allowing the woman a moment to recalibrate, so to speak.
"A woman of action indeed." Lady Catherine murmured without blinking an eye. "I suppose it does indeed suit the Lady of the Horde." There was no way she wasn't addressing her in such a manner on purpose. Catra just knew it. "Well then, let's lead to the crux of the matter then – no need to avoid the point, is there?" Her expression didn't as much as shift, yet she couldn't help but think the woman had suddenly turned sharper. "What are you to say, if I were to tell you that members of the neutral fraction have been discussing declaring their loyalty to the Horde in exchange for military defence, as well as the right to self-govern?"
That they were trying to drive me to an early grave, is what she most certainly did not say as Lydia went perfectly still. "That it is a curious thing to say indeed!" Catra replied instead, carefully not glancing at her partner to acknowledge she'd absolutely nailed the subject. "After all, for all the changes we've been working on, our reputation by far preseeds that of my own."
The older woman smiled, and somehow, Catra knew she'd just let something slip.
She just wasn't sure as to what.
"Oh, but don't reputations precede us all? We're hardly ones to listen to the loudest voice and follow as they will." The woman leaned into her chair, hands neatly folded on top of each other. "A Lady's duty is to ensure the best prosperity for her kingdom, and right now, there is much wondering whether the Horde might not be the better benefit."
Before Catra could begin to dissect… that. One of her… she wanted to call them friends - but far more lightly to be her lackey – displayed a map onto the table, neatly diagrams of what she could only assume were kingdoms open to the possibility of an alliance. "That's quite the varied number of Kingdoms with an open mind." She managed to coherently say.
Honestly, she was surprised there were this many to begin with – thought they were still only a small fraction in comparison towards the entirety of Etheria's East. Though, while positive, it had its own set of problems to bring into an alliance.
"You do quite like to jest, do you not, Lady of the Horde?" Definitely saying it to get under her skin.
Thought Catra barely noted it this time, instead choosing to frown as she studied the map.
"While we're glad so many Kingdom wish to prosper through alliance," Lydia intervened, having noticed the same thing Catra had. "They're quite sporadically spread. It would make any form of link between our nations particularly tricky to engage.
Instead of answering, Lady Catherine turned her head to study Catra intensely.
Lydia wasn't wrong, per see. While indeed tricky to link, between her naval fleet and any intelligent form of arrangement, she was certain most of the Kingdoms could be added with careful planning and work. Quite the contrary, those Kingdoms would force the Alliance into multiple-front warfare. And while the alliance could questionably claim the superiority in soldier quality, the Horde was unquestionably the superior one in terms of quantity.
Unfortunately, it did bring a particularly troubling setback. Yes, it allowed expansion and added pressure on the alliance. But…
They couldn't hold it. Not realistically. Not before Shadow Weaver and Hordak ruined their economy, and certainly not now when they were scrapping the barrel in maintaining their borders.
Realistically speaking, they were out of time. With the depletion of their oil, they couldn't feasibly expand. Without the complex materials that had once abounded their lands, they couldn't rebuild. Kyle's ability to rework the academy had done wonders in cementing their personnel ability to hold the line, but even that wouldn't be enough in pressing an advantage.
Feasibly speaking, they'd decided it wise to divide what little left they had in reserve had to be separate into two separate categories. The first and largest of the two was to essential maintenance of the front's war effort against the alliance. Keeping down to the bare bones while tiring the enemy as well as digging their own defences into place. The second, smaller but more daring of the options, was invested in ensuring Lydia could successfully implement her own rule into La Iglesia's land.
This was important since it'd realistically cut off the alliance to the Salineas Kingdom, cutting them off from defending against any realistic naval engagement, and therefore allowing free use of Etherias entire surrounding oceans.
So while Catra certainly wanted to agree, her forces were far too dangerously close to overextending themselves as things were.
But she couldn't just say no. To bluntly refuse the agreement would be as good as pushing the neutrals into the rebellion, which while not disastrous right now, could easily be enough to tip the scale the moment the Horde reached the end of their reserves.
Lovely, absolutely lovely.
"While certainly flattering to know," Catra finally found her words, "I fail to see why they'd suddenly want an alliance with us – militaristic at that. Simply refusing help towards the Rebellion while offering friendly negotiations with us would have been more than enough." And while having just come up with it on the spot, she did feel that it was something she could push with enough strength to at least buy time. "If anything, an alliance would just put them at a disadvantageous position compared to the one they have now."
"Do give them some credit, they possess some degree of an army to their name," She countered, amused. "The Rebellion wouldn't be capable of placing any significant amount of pressure on them if they're too busy dealing with the Horde."
Or, Catra realised, suddenly feeling much more on edge, they'd be okay having the Horde and Rebellion duck it out, patiently waiting until they were on their last legs.
This had just become a far more dangerous game.
And she had just been playing with danger, hadn't she?
And then, inspiration struct.
"While an appropriate conclusion," She lied through her teeth, "I'm afraid you failed to take one fact into account."
"I have?" The woman raised a perfectly etched eyebrow, seeming more curious than offended.
"Are you aware that Princess Entrapta is a member of the Horde?"
"I am, yes." Here, Lady Catherin's lips turned into a thin line. "The Rebellion was quite outspoken in her defection."
"And I'm sure you found it easy enough to assume exactly what assistance we'd required from someone as skilled as the Princess in question?" At the woman's nod, Catra pressed on, finding herself rather impressed at her skill at lying on the spot. Who knew Shadow Weaver would be useful for something after all? "She was quite delighted at the number of resources we were willing to offer, to the point that she's contributed quite the degree to improving and modernizing our army to an acceptable degree."
"Would that not make it all the easier to fight off the alliance?" The woman asked, and this time there was a glimpse of clear confusion.
"For simple footsoldiers and cavalry? Most certainly. For this level of technology, however, we need to be quite meticulous in the process. Not to mention we working from one section to the next to make sure there's no weakness to be exploited at the front line."
"And how long would this… modernization take?"
Realistically nineteen moths, but Catra was weary of giving any significant secret to someone that, for all purposes, was a possible soon-to-be Rebellion supporter. "Three years."
"Unacceptable."
"…Then we seem to be at an impassive." Catra carefully did not grimace, realising that things were about to get all the trickier.
"Then tell me," The woman pressed on without blinking an eye. "Why should I help you, if I gain nothing from my work?" If possible, her gaze only grew even sharper. "My question is this, Lady of the Horde," At this the woman leans forward, chin tilted as it leaned into the back of her hands. "In this coming new era, why should I choose you instead of them?"
Why indeed? Catra forced herself to not frown at the thought. How did she pull this to her favour? At the rate things were going she'd be lucky to not have the neutrals join the Rebellion by the start of the sunset.
Carefully, Catra interlaced her fingers as she placed them on the table. A slow, deliberate move as she readied herself for the coming nightmare. "Because," She starts smoothly, "This isn't a matter of what you or I have to gain. It's a matter of what there is to lose." And, after a moment, she added for safe measure, "That wasn't a threat, by the way."
Lady Kathrein hummed in a tone that tended to imply that she was passively contemplating her murder. Progress. "Then do tell, for I am all ears."
Ugh, why couldn't the alliance be based in the north? That would consolidate most of Western Etheria under her control.
…Oh, right. Some idiot had thought it smart to bomb the Land of Snow's Castle.
Not for the first time, she pondered at the possibility of going back in time to slap herself silly. How had she possibly managed to cause this much trouble without knowing so? It's as if she'd taken every single wrong turn and managed to survive out of sheer luck and spite. Like some-, some greenhorn! Maybe even worse than a greenhorn!
Not to say she criticised her past – or at any point - taste in explosions. It's just that she'd clearly failed to appreciate the importance of detailing. Careful planning, timing, place, precision, size… she could go on and on and never quite capture the sheer delighted wonders destruction could be brought with an explosion.
…Anyway. "The Rebellion is hardly going to stay idle as Lydia and I are at work." When said woman twitched, Catra realised she probably should have used titles. Ops. "And that's hardly going to stay contained when it starts in La Iglesias's home turf." Ignoring the weight La Iglesia carried, the positioning was also particularly threatening towards the entirety of the alliance. For one, it cut direct trade routes between Salineas Kingdom and the rest of the alliance. Second, it edged around the Whispering Woods, practically touching the Plumeria Kingdom. Thirdly, and perhaps more importantly. It was positioned at the near centre of Etheria, being the closes thing they had to a route network centre towards the entirety of Etheria. This practically cut the Rebellion from its fastest and most convenient routes, causing a delay and lethargic responses in what was already a rather disorganised resistance.
"That hardly involves me or mine, does it? The Rebellion won't dare lift a finger against the neutrals."
"It does," Lydia countered, seemingly realising something Catra had failed to see. "However, involve you indirectly." And then, she offered the sweetest of smiles that had Catra desperately trying to not smirk. "After all, our land is the heart of Etheria's trading network. And trust me when I say that if we can't keep it, then we certainly aren't going to give it."
For a long, prolonged moment, both women stared at the other, almost as if praying for the first sign of hesitance. "You think of yourself too highly." Lady Katherine commented, eyes sharp and perhaps just a little too dangerous."
"And you," Lydia countered, "think of us too lowly."
"Indeed?" The older woman raised an eyebrow, slowly standing as the two men behind her – and Catra had honestly forgotten they were present – followed suit. "Then I suppose we have nothing more to talk off, do we?" They both blinked. And Lydia stood as Catra tried to process what had just happened. "I'll eagerly await what result you bring with you coming game. Impress me enough and I might just agree. Lady of the Horde, Holy Maiden." She nodded politely.
And with that, Lady Katherine easily walked out of the garden, leaving the two younger women with a growing headache.
"Fiernz'ya," Lydia murmured, forehead planted on the cold table. "We might be best making a run for it anyway."
Despite herself, Catra found herself agreeing.
.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.
The vessel trembled. Not with the pleasant, gentle rattle that made so many of its crew remember their home. But rather, it was with a certainty felt entirely with dread that Major Fane rushed down the corridor.
-multiple breaches throughout-
-can't hold on. We need any help that-
Grimacing as he slid down the stairs, he covered his face, eyes irritated at the faint flowing of smoke.
-flooding too fast! You need to close it down-
His feet were wet.
And while he'd expected the water to reach his knees, much like he expected the freezing depths of the ocean to come as a shock, it took him a moment to realise why it still felt wrong.
The water was red.
Grimly, he reached for his baton, making a note to ask for something with more impact as he took a step forward.
And instantly stopped.
Hidden within the ship's very insides of technology in front of him – right in front of him! – something twitched. A flashing yellow as Fane could swear that something peered at him.
And then it moved, removing itself from the many now broken parts of engineering that it took him a second to realise that it was no part of the ship at all! Instead, with half-rusted edges and faintly luminous parts, something that could only be described as a mechanical atrocity stared down at him.
And then, there was red.
.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.0.o.
I actually had this chapter ready some weeks ago. But! And this is big. Today marks the second anniversity of TYAH. Which is honestly mind boggelin.
Thank you so much to everyone that gave this story a chance. It makes me so happy whenever you leave a review/like or even just knowing someone found this in the internet and gave it a look.
Honestly. Thank you.
If you felt I should have written something differently, be it personality and/or displays of different states of mentality, please leave a comment! Any advice is welcome and appreciated!
Anyways, I'll See you next time! Ciao!
~ Faith