Editor's Note: Hello everyone.
I probably don't need to tell many of you that its been a rough summer stacked on top of a rough year.
It's doubtlessly going to stay tough out there for a while, and I'm sure none of you want to think about that, but I want to stop and say I hope everyone keeping up with 'The Power of Greyskull' is doing well.
All of you who've left us your reviews, favs, and follows have really made things brighter for both me and Homer these last few months, even on the darkest days. Thank you for that. None of you needed to do that, which is why we both appreciate all of you so much.
If you've at any point read this story while feeling beat down or afraid, and it's succeeded at helping you feel better again, then just know that it will always be here whenever you need it. And we're so glad it gave you that peace.
Stay safe out there, everyone.
"Adam," Catra teased the boy's bangs with a claw, "A-dam." Her raspy laughter filled him with joy and made him laugh right back.
"Ca-tra," Adam said. The sun had baked the courtyard like an old oven, so Adam and his protector had scurried up into the east-watchtower, where the wind came in strongest off the badlands, to relax in the shade. They feasted on the grayish rectangles of food Catra always found and drank their fill of never-ending cups of water.
Adam sat cross-legged across from her and had occupied himself looking over the person who'd entered into his life and made everything better. Tan fur and muscles and pretty, mismatched eyes. Looking at him with mischief. It was perfect. The perfect day of his life.
"Help me!" Adam's blood turned to red ice in his veins. "Help me!" The coughing, metallic voice reached up from the black moat. Laughter billowed up afterwards. "Come down here and help me!"
No. Nonono. The skull was gone. Far away. Adam hopped to his feet, peered over the railing into the abyssal darkness and screeched in horror. The moat was filled with skulls. A chattering white serpent of skulls broken up by the strips of purple cloak fastened to a bit of neck-column under the grinning jaws.
"Help me," they spoke as one, their metal voice filling the world with glee, "nyeh-heh-HA! You did this to me!"
Around the gray castle the dead army rose, armor black with age and rust, they screamed and clutched at their heads. Whisps of darkness rose from them and coalesced into a sky dark with thunder-heads in all directions. Red lightning flashed and formed giant eyes overhead.
Time to come home! The whispering voice mocked him as the black smoke spread outwards like arms, gesturing to the hellish scene like it was gift from his worst enemy.
"Enough!" The skull, the one at the top of his column of bones, spoke as the rest of the scene fell into eerie silence. "Come down here and help me!"
"N-no!" Adam backed away, hands grasping for his sword. It was gone. He couldn't protect himself.
Wake…up…you are in danger!
"Adam?" Catra's hands grasped his shoulders as he backed into the solid weight of her body. He whirled, buried his face in her stomach, cheek rubbing against the hard material of her vest.
"Catra," he hiccupped, "Catra!" His screams were whispery things that made him feel like he couldn't breathe.
"Now," the skull laughed, "bring him down here and help me!" Cruel fingers grasped his shirt and dragged him into the air.
WAKE UP!
"No!" Adam struggled. "Ca-tra!" He couldn't scream. Why couldn't he scream?
"Wakey-wakey," Catra's face had turned into a cruel smile, her voice had turned deep and malicious, "little monster."
Adam squirmed out of his nightmare, bare feet kicking in the air and the neck of his stretchy white shirt digging under his chin. A huge, blue-skinned face sneered at him with teeth like white pillars under beady, red dots of eyes. Adam gasped in terror and then took stock of his situation.
"Ca-tra!"
The big man laughed. Adam swung himself backwards by the grip on his shirt and kicked the soles of his feet into the man's eyes. He tumbled out of his shirt and bounced onto his cot as the big man howled with rage.
Scorpia had egg on her face. This was not to say she had been proven wrong or looked humiliated. She simply had egg yolk slowly crusting beneath the left ridge of her cheek. She wasn't embarrassed or feeling foolish.
She was, however, feeling so terrified that, had it not already been the case, her hair would've turned bone-white. Her breakfast with her mom, a little pleasant allowance she'd justified to herself, had been interrupted by the message that Lord Hordak had left seclusion and demanded a certain prisoner be brought to him at once.
With a hurried 'love you, kitty' to her mother and a 'thanks for breakfast, ma' to the tiger-cub, Scorpia had raced to the laundry room. There she hastily threw the blueprints, yellowed papers, and a single black sock into Adam's dry, baking-powder scented tunic. She managed a breathless 'see ya later' to each of the personal guards as she passed out of the old gatehouse to run to Catra's quarters.
Naturally, she hadn't made the whole way at top speed and now as she rounded the last corner her breathing was more than a little labored. A muffled howl of agony rang beyond Catra's door and Scorpia felt her awareness of it slip away. Her tail curled up expectantly and her claws nearly bit into the tunic as she squatted to press her badge against the door lock.
The door whooshed as it opened and a blur of movement skidded to a halt in front of her. He looked even tinier without his shirt. Poor skinny little guy. Adam parted his curtain of blonde hair and stared uncertainly at Scorpia, big blue eyes hitting her right in the heart with their fear, and then he made a decision.
"Mmm!" He dipped between her legs and wrapped his arms around her right kneecap, peeking out at the chaos in Catra's room. A big man, Warden Trapjaw she realized, was clutching at his eyes with hands the size of five-fingered oven mitts. Two Horde troopers, bearing the Warden's winged-key insignia, crowded and babbled at him.
A huge blue fist caught one in the face and sent him sprawling into the cot Scorpia had set up for Adam. The frame clattered with ear-aching volume as it and the prison trooper went to the floor. The other trooper leapt backwards to safety as Trapjaw snarled.
"Where is that…little punk!" His red eyes were tearing up in pain and two raccoon-mask bruises were already starting to form around them. He glared at the child, ignoring Scorpia. He strode forward, footsteps booming like dynamite charges going off. "Gonna make you regret that."
"What's the idea?" Scorpia yelled, adjusting her stance, "this is Force Captain Catra's room!"
"Orders," Trapjaw snarled, "now get out of my way." Scorpia puffed up.
"Well, that's a rude way to say that," she said, "and I don't think Adam is going anywhere with you." Trapjaw bared his teeth and Scorpia's stinger rose up over her shoulder. "Actually, scratch that. I know he isn't going anywhere with you. Now if you don't mind, please give him back his shirt and apologize for scaring him!"
"Force Captain. Warden." A dark voice said from behind them. "Stand down." Several things happened at once. Adam yipped like a frightened puppy and ran to Catra's bed, sliding under it on his bare belly. She felt a grip like phantom fingers dig into the back of her neck.
All thoughts of fighting were exorcised from her mind at once, leaving a strange emotional absence in their place. It was a hollow feeling that quickly buoyed her mind up to a spot just below the ceiling. She felt her legs buckling and saw Trapjaw stumbling in time with her. They caught themselves on the edges of the door.
Her mind played a trick on her. For a flicker of an instant, there appeared to be a singly black tentacle wound tightly around Trapjaw's thick neck. Then it was gone, forgotten, and Scorpia cowered into the doorsill as Shadow Weaver swept into the room between them.
"There has been a miscommunication," she said by way of greeting, "Warden Kronis, I did not ask you to retrieve the child, did I?"
"My…my boys took…'escorted' Catra... from the Officer's Mess Hall. She's with Lord Hordak now." Scorpia bit down the urge to interrupt as Trapjaw glared at the bed. "Just give me two seconds, and I'll have that kid wishing he'd come quietly."
"That won't be necessary, he will be my responsibility," Shadow Weaver said, "Now off you go. I have no need of your assistance."
"He's a prisoner," Trapjaw snapped, red-eyes flashing with pure rage, "and that means he's my priority." There was a crackle in the air before a prison of red-lightning paralyzed the huge man in place. Scorpia ducked back into the hallway, lips caught between her teeth to keep from whimpering.
Magic. Black Garnet magic. And that weird sensation earlier. That was magic as well. Scorpia shuddered, her tail coiling nervously in on itself. She'd be forever grateful she wasn't expected to be a Princess. To wield power like that. She'd never seen it used for anything but cruelty. And if Shadow Weaver truly was the good kind of magic user, the mind boggled at what the enemy must have on their side.
Adam needs us. Scorpia thought. Catra and me. We can teach him to use magic for good. For once. Maybe we'd really make the world better. Oh, nerts! She squawked as the red light burst and the Warden slumped to one knee. Steam rose from his bald head and huge bare arms. His mighty jaw was clenched so tight Scorpia expected to hear his teeth cracking.
"Be gone," Shadow Weaver said, not deigning to look at him. "I have work to do."
His lone Prison Trooper, who'd been pressed to a far corner out of sight, scooped up their unconscious comrade and fled at once. Trapjaw struggled to his feet, eyes distant and scared. He limped past Scorpia with a mutter she couldn't make out. Shadow Weaver stood alone in the room, her hair writhing like snakes on an invisible arcane wind.
She's got her magic back. And Lord Hordak's out of seclusion. 'What difference could one night make', hu Scorpia? So much for that one, you big doof!
"Now," Shadow Weaver's voice was not pleasant, not by a long shot, but it had become less hostile, "do you really think you're going to be safe hiding under there, little Adam?" The way she looked at the unmade bed was as if it wasn't there at all and she could see right through Adam's hiding spot and into his eyes. "Come out here, young man. This instant."
"Um," Scorpia stepped into the room like it would collapse on her at any second, "h-hey, Adam, uh…it's me! Scorpia. Remember? I…I envenomed you that one time? But I won't this time cuz…cuz we're cool and…I got you your tunic!"
There was no noticeable movement from under the bed but Shadow Weaver's mask had slowly turned to regard her with a look of mild surprise.
"You are also excused, Scorpia," she said, sounding a little exhausted, "I have this handled from here." Her white eyes narrowed on the purple tunic in Scorpia's claws. "What on Etheria is…oh, that is vile. Force Captain, incinerate that at once."
"Huh?" Scorpia's scared brain began to sound a few more alarm bells. The papers! Oh, man. Don't let her see them! Catra would *not* like that!
"Oh, this?" Scorpia said, "This is Adam's. Y'see. We…that is I…that is, Catra asked me to clean this so that Adam could still wear it without getting sick." Shadow Weaver's fingers interlocked, thumbnails tacking loudly together as she gave Scorpia a flat glare. "It's…he likes to wear it?"
"I am trying to remember when I asked," Shadow Weaver said. "That rag of his will do him no more good. Dispose of it. Now."
"Ma'am," Scorpia found her voice, "with all due respect, I have to disagree- very politely disagree! It helps Adam relax. It's familiar to him, and safe... Like…like armor!" She grinned hard and with faux joy. "It'll make him… uh, cooperative!" Shadow Weaver turned to the bed.
"Cooperative? Adam, come out from under there." The boy crawled out slowly, joints stiff and eyes wide with terror. "You may find that such concerns are a thing of the past, Force Captain Scorpia. Now, Adam, stand up." His body trembled as he obeyed, eyes shooting around the room like rotating blue warning-lights. Shadow Weaver scoffed. Thin fingers plucked at the boy's claw-tailored pants.
"This is utterly ridiculous," Shadow Weaver said to herself, "I give her perfectly good clothing and yet she can hardly find the effort to make use of them. " Shadow Weaver flicked her hand at Scopria. "Before you leave. Make yourself useful and find the plastic box I gave her."
"Yes, ma'am," Scorpia said. She needed to get out of this room. Get the papers somewhere safe and get to Catra. Catra was by herself and who knows what Lord Hordak would do to her. She used her stinger to pull quietly open the top drawer of Catra's dresser.
"Whoops," she said, play-acting, "not in here, isn't that just too…bad!" She choked on the last word as a sheaf of yellowed papers slipped out of the tunic like cheese from a purple sandwich. "No no no no no no."
"And this hair," Shadow Weaver went on, Adam made a little noise of discomfort as a lock of his bangs was tugged, "is riddled with lice by now, knowing her bathing habits. If I only had the time and a shaver…another time perhaps. Sit, boy."
Scorpia peeked behind her and saw Adam obey at once. Rapidly and with none of the strange slowness that mired him before. It seemed magic wasn't needed any longer.
"Scorpia," Shadow Weaver snapped, "the clothing?"
"Uh…yeah…uh," she jammed the tunic into the top drawer, slamming it shut and crouching to check the next one. Her powerful physique served as an excellent cover for the scattered yellow papers…for the moment. She opened the next drawer and blew a loud whistle of air in relief. "Here it is! You're welcome…ma'am."
A crackle of lightning made her shrink away as the box flew, magnetized, into Shadow Weaver's waiting hand. She placed it on the bed, opened it, and directed Adam to change into the newer, less destroyed outfit.
Scorpia shuffled the papers into her claws, coughing loudly to cover the crinkling noise. She opened the lowest drawer and found a small pair of boots inside. There was an 'ah' of recognition from Shadow Weaver and the boots levitated on a wave of red magic.
Scorpia's coughing became real. And terrified.
"Are you feeling well, Force Captain?"
"Yeah-ack-yeah, so good. Feel-koff-great!" She shoved the loose papers into this second hiding spot and slammed the drawer. Adam's clothes landed in a pile before her. The boy was dressed in the new, simple white shirt and gray pants, holding out a pair of socks in confusion.
"Um?" Adam said. Shadow Weaver snatched them from his hands and demonstrated them. Adam grimaced and began scratching at one foot with his other. He tugged at the long, clingy sleeves of the Horde Cadet shirt.
"Stop that." The boy's hands froze and went to his sides.
"Mmmm," he hummed sadly. His eyes found Scorpia and begged for help.
"Shadow Weaver…if you want ma'am, I can help handle-"
"You may go now, Force Captain." Shadow Weaver said, "In fact, I would much prefer that." Scorpia opened her mouth to protest but found that, at a single glance from the woman's red mask, she could say nothing but 'yes, ma'am'.
"Eeeeh," Adam whined. The laces on his boots squeaked as Shadow Weaver yanked them tight.
"They pinch now," she tutted, "because you've never worn them. Think of it as an incentive to put them on, little Adam. It will hurt less the sooner you accept it." Scorpia caught Adam's eye and offered a pained smile. Be brave, little guy. It'll be ok.
Hopefully she'd believe that when she finally got to Catra. Scorpia found a spot far from the door and hunkered down to wait. When Shadow Weaver finally left, she'd get the papers and then run like the wind to Hordak's throne room. Catra was smart. Catra would know what to do.
Catra had no idea what to do. She offered Lord Hordak the honest answer solely because she couldn't come up with an iron-clad lie fast enough.
"He's…in my room," Catra folded her arms behind her back, "Lord Hordak." The crowded throne room rippled with whispers. Octavia and Grizzlor glared at her from the sidelines, flanked by a dozen of their soldiers each. Admiral Leech and his marines seemed unmoving but she could feel their judgment. A sharp movement of Hordak's hazard-red eyes silenced all. Then he turned that gaze on Catra and she resisted the instinct to puff up and appear larger.
"Why is that, Force Captain Catra?" Catra turned a harsh, vengeful glare on a dozen Horde Prison Troopers in full riot-gear.
"Someone thought I couldn't find my way here alone," Catra growled at them, "so they 'encouraged me' to come along with them." Trapjaw was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Catra might've laughed off a smaller response team of his troops, or fought her way through a less armored one, but their numbers had been sprawling and showing up to Lord Hordak battered and bruised wouldn't do. She had to look strong.
Her life might depend on it. Adam's absolutely did.
"You misunderstand," Hordak's voice was clear, concise, un-muffled by the press of people at the base of his throne. "Why was he in your quarters to begin with? Surely there were cells open in our prison." She hated this. This stupid word game where Hordak pushed her to admitting she'd done something bad. She hated it when Shadow Weaver did it and she despised whenever Hordak proved he wasn't above it himself.
"I didn't think Warden Trapja…Warden Kronis was up to the task." She heard someone mutter an invective against her. Someone from her 'escort'. As if the world conspired against her, the topic of conversation stomped through giant doors of Hordak's throne room. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes searching for blonde hair at waist-height, but instead they eventually settled on a pair of bruised red eyes. She couldn't stop from smiling. "Looks like I was right. He's a stinker, huh, Warden? Tougher than he looks."
"Catra, enough." Hordak's voice was a soft growl of warning, "Warden Kronis. Where is the boy?"
"My lord," Kronis bowed, "Shadow Weaver is bringing the child herself. Her orders…"
"I am becoming very concerned that my officers are more interested in who accomplishes a task than seeing that task done," Catra cursed the universe as Hordak glared at her, "I know how you chose to interpret my 'personal orders' , Force Captain Catra, but there is a reason the Fright Zone has a Warden."
"I…thought it would be best if Adam…"
"Structure exists to support order," Hordak said, leaning forward into the light as he cut her off. He was dressed in a black tabard with the red symbol of the Horde on the breast, "I have a Force Captain, a Warden, and a Second-In-Command who have, in open defiance of that structure, sewn chaos. Perhaps it is a minor difference," he addressed all assembled now, "but the fact remains that if each of you had followed protocol, a missing prisoner would not be delaying us all. Now. Where he is supposed to be!"
"She never brought him to me for processing," Catra would have hugged Trapjaw -ok, not really- for so bravely, and stupidly, throwing himself onto the grenade, "when I told her he should be in one of my cells-"
"She refused? And you accepted that? Be silent, Warden! The Force Captain at least kept watch on this prisoner. Instead of sulking somewhere in her own impotence."
Yowch. Catra struggled not to snicker. Better you than me, Trapjaw. Thanks buddy.
"But," Hordak said, as if reading her thoughts, "where our Warden has failed to carry out his duties, you have flown in direct opposition to your own, Catra."
"Adam's not dangerous…I mean, he'll head-butt your nose into pieces, but I can control him, Lord Hordak. Better than any prison cell." That hadn't been the right answer. Hordak's sneer turned from angry to furious. His voice stayed even.
"Where are you soldiers, Force Captain? Your detachment? The soldiers you have the honor to lead into our war for Etheria?" Catra swallowed a snarl of frustration. This was pointless. Who cared where her soldiers were? She was offering Hordak a She-Ra on a silver platter and all he could ask her about was the grunts she'd been saddled with since Adora ran away.
"They're…in the Infirmary, Lord Hordak." She winced as she said it. Bad enough she had to fess up to a useless battalion, but she'd sounded less than confident. She could not afford to look weak.
"Dr. Grox?" Hordak turned his head slightly and the troll emerged from the press of bodies. He looked no more well-rested than yesterday. "What were the casualties for Force Captain Catra's detachment?" The surgeon spared Catra a tired look of resignation before flipping open his clipboard.
"Of forty-five troopers: thirty-three will need another two days of care before returning to active duty. Seven will require a week. Five are on…indefinite treatment." Catra's anger fizzled at the news and she wondered which five of her troopers it was that she wouldn't see soon. She hoped it wasn't her old squad. She'd need them for her plans.
Focus. Don't get distracted! Deal with them later.
"And when did Force Captain Catra come to you for a report on their readiness?"
Never. Catra awaited the hammer.
"I informed her yesterday," Dr. Grox said, "when I was summoned to perform a physical on Adam. The prisoner." Catra's lifelong schooling in lying to avoid trouble told her to take Grox's handout without flinching.
'Children taken in war look out for each other.' Catra stood up straighter while thinking of the memory. Thank Etheria for saps like you, doc.
"A great deal of allowances were made for this one prisoner," Hordak said, unperturbed that his previous line of accusation had hit a dead-end, "and what is the reason for this, Force Captain?"
Time to stick my neck out for another magical blonde. I swear I'm cursed. Catra stepped forward and bowed low.
"Lord Hordak," Catra said, "Adam-"
"You wish to use him as a weapon," Hordak cut her off so abruptly she spoke over him for a minute. He waved his staff. "Yes. I remember what you suggested. I do not need to hear your argument. We are not here to discuss ideas of granting you some pet project, Force Captain. He is here as a prisoner. Taken for attacking the heart of the Fright Zone. For injuring over one-hundred of your comrades!"
"My lord," Catra said, "that wasn't…it wasn't all him! There was a-a shadow thing! That messed with people's head!"
"Says who," Octavia cut in. "Something happened that night, for sure, but I don't think it was a 'shadow.' I think it was the little magic freak that showed up in our home and jumped all of us."
"How would you know?" Catra sneered. "You were unconscious the whole time after the big guy knocked you out."
"Come here and say that, furball," one of Octavia's veterans shoved forward, her arm in a sling and murder in her eyes, "at least our captain acts like a real captain!"
"Deva, get back in line!" Octavia roared.
"She's right," one of the Prison Troopers took the opening to declare, "think of all the stuff we've been hearing about this kid, and this girl treats him like a freaking house-guest."
"Send him to Beast Island!" Someone yelled. "He should be there already!"
"Let us have a crack at him," a soldier from Grizzlor's company shouted, "he's gotta pay for what he did to our guys!" The room began to grow into a furnace of anger and the heat began to suffocate her voice as she tried to talk over them.
"Lord Hordak!" Catra called out to the distant ruler. "They don't know what they're talking about! I do! You have to listen to me!" If only everyone would just shut up and let her speak. Hordak's attention wasn't on her though, or the discord around them, it was focused behind her, at the doorway.
"Enough," Hordak thundered. All noise in the room petered out and died as officers began shouting threats at their underlings. Then the sound of a tiny pair of boots was all anyone could hear. Catra knew what she was going to see as she turned.
Shadow Weaver entered like a bored conqueror and everyone she passed had to feel like they weren't even there. Most were preoccupied with the figure next to her.
Adam looked all wrong. The new clothing had an odd, disempowering affect on him. Even the ripped up clothing Catra gave him had given him that hint of wildness that the clean, white shirt and gray pants stole. It played off his skinny frame well and the tiny clomp-clomp of his little boots was a familiar sound to anyone raised in the Horde.
His hair was driving Catra nuts. It didn't look exactly the same as Adora's ponytail, no stupid poof for one thing, and far too much of it for another, but it looked too similar for her looked so mundane. So normal. He would've blended in with any Cadet Squad if not for the sheer stupid amount of hair on his head.
Then she noticed his movements. They were jerky and stilted, at first she thought he was nervous or maybe the boots were a size too big, but then as they passed him, she saw Adam's eyes strain to look at her as he marched past. They flashed fear, joy, and a cry for help at her before she all she could see was the long tail of blonde hair unspooling down his back.
She played me. Her teeth ground together. I swear I'll get her back for this.
Shadow Weaver bowed and Adam…bent oddly in a valiant imitation of a bow, his head twisting a little as his ponytail fell into his face. He sputtered and spat some hair.
"Yuck," he muttered. In the silent hall he might as well have shouted it.
"Lord Hordak," Shadow Weaver rose, "please, forgive my lateness. I was preparing our guest to be presentable for this event."
"We were just discussing the privileges afforded to our prisoner," Hordak said, eyes now focused solely on Adam, "surely there is a Cadet in our army who those boots would serve better than him."
"A just and magnanimous observation, Lord Hordak," Shadow Weaver said, "if it be your wish, I can take back the clothing at once."
At once. Catra wanted to barf. She means it.
"Beside the point," Hordak scoffed, "now, where are you from, boy? Why did you come here?" To most people in the room, Catra expected the question sounded natural. But there was a tic, small though it was, that Catra noticed in Hordak's face. He turned sharply to her as if sensing her observation. "Can he speak?"
"Well-"
"The boy is almost certainly feral," Shadow Weaver said, ignoring Catra's glare, "and I doubt he would have anything interesting to say as it is." Shadow Weaver bowed slightly again. "My Lord, may I ask what is to be done with him?"
"H-hang on," Catra said, "wait a minute! Before we do that…" Shadow Weaver turned a glare in her direction that nearly gave her pause…but she remembered that Shadow Weaver wasn't the most powerful person in the room, and Hordak had yet to cut her off. "Lord Hordak, we were just saying that Adam didn't mess with anybody's head!"
"Catra," Shadow Weaver turned fully to her, "this is not the time for you to offer your half-baked theories on magic."
"Was the boy responsible?" Hordak's voice fell between them like a guillotine blade. "Or was he not?" Shadow Weaver's eyes promised Catra several kinds of retribution before she turned towards Hordak.
"It…would appear that there are…other explanations…I do not believe the child is responsible," she spoke like every word stabbed her in the stomach, "if that is any bearing on your decision, sire."
"Shadow Weaver, what of the boy's magical nature then? Shall we assume he is not responsible for his physical attacks on us? Unless this other entity you describe is also responsible." Catra didn't miss the way Hordak's eyes cut into Shadow Weaver but she had to hold off on reveling in it as an opportunity opened up.
"He's not!" All eyes, most filled with some kind of hatred, turned on her. She flicked her tail and grinned. "There's a difference between them. See, the big guy is…well…Adam is…uh…you alright there, kid?" Attention returned to the boy and found him still bowing strange, face turning red from the effort.
"Stand up straight, you little cretin," Shadow Weaver snapped. Adam popped up like a spring-loaded toy and took a deep breath of relief. He rubbed at his neck with one hand and lower back with the other.
"Ow," he whined. Out of his trance, the boy turned and looked at Catra. "Catra!" It was surreal to watch him race over to her, stumbling twice and glaring at his boots, as if nothing else in the world existed. Not Shadow Weaver. Not an army of soldiers. Not the Lord Hordak Himself watching all from his high throne. "Hi!"
"Hey, booger," Catra whispered with a smirk, "good timing. Help me with something." She twirled her finger and Adam turned around. She locked eyes with Shadow Weaver and snipped the hair tie on his head, smiling when he huffed happily and massaged his sore scalp. "As I was saying, this is Adam. Adam didn't hurt anybody…well, he hurt me, maybe Kronis, but only as bad as any 10-year-old can… now, the other guy…the big guy with resting murder face? He's the one you blame."
"The same individual," Shadow Weaver snapped, "You so moronically think he will-"
"Let her speak," Hordak said.
Catra wished with all her heart she could take the look in Shadow Weaver's eyes and frame it in her quarters, to help her get through all the really bad times. Adam's head cocked curiously at the purr rumbling in her chest.
"Adam," she said, "do you remember…him?" She pointed at Lord Hordak. The boy stared up at the throne and squinted then backed against her leg and clasped both hands around his neck. "Very good. Do you remember her?" She directed him to Ocatavia's trooper, Deva. Octavia seethed, her single eye bounced furiously between the boy and Catra, unable to decide who to glare at most. Deva's injuries had come after an ill-fated attempt to drive a spear in the big guy's arm. They'd not been acquainted otherwise. Adam scratched his head and shrugged, then gestured at Octavia.
"Catra," he said, then covered his left eye. She laughed.
"Yup," she jabbed a thumb at herself, speaking softly, "cuz of me." Adam gasped as she flexed her claws. "Not much bigger than you when I did it either." She stage-whispered. "Guess she's really bad at fighting children."
"Gonna make you eat those words with your teeth on the side, Catra," Octavia growled.
"Adam," Catra stood, "doesn't remember Deva. Even though she beat the stuffing out of the 'big guy' and then, evidence shown," here she gestured to several huge bandages on the furious woman's body, "got the stuffing beaten out of her."
"What does that prove?" Octavia asked. "What happened with Lord Hordak?"
"Be silent," Hordak said, "Catra, mind yourself. Everyone here has done their part to protect the Fright Zone. I will not have you impugning them for your own gain." Her easy smile curdled at his sudden scowl. "Despite the rumors, I know for a fact you did not defeat this…other entity… single handedly. Do not act as if you did."
"Yes, Lord Hordak," Catra said. "Shadow Weaver agrees with me."
"Shadow Weaver?" Hordak asked. Familiarity with the sorceress let Catra tell, just by the slight tension in her shoulders, that Shadow Weaver was mad.
"Anything is possible, my lord," Shadow Weaver said, "and the boy certainly possesses none of this alter-ego's strength or skill."
"So," Catra said, ruffling the boy's hair, "I think maybe we should forget about accusing him of anything." She gestured at him like a shiny new skiff for sale. "I think what we have here isn't a prisoner, my lord, but an opportunity. A chance to throw some real power at the Rebellion. Something they couldn't possibly expect."
"Sire, I must interject now," Shadow Weaver said, "lest Catra imply that I 'approve' of this scheme of hers. I do not. I believe it is a terrible idea."
"Aww, don't break my heart like this, Shadow Weaver," Catra snarked.
"I will not continue to suffer these interruptions," Hordak growled, "unless I give you leave, Force Captain, I command you to practice the same silence that my army has been affording you."
"Thank you, my lord," Shadow Weaver's voice turned upwards with a smile, "might I offer a suggestion if you have yet to decide the boy's fate?" Hordak frowned and motioned rapidly with his hand, softly growling with impatience. "We have never had a being of such magical potential in our grasp before. I believe we may learn much, not simply about one enemy, but all our enemies. The power of the Rebellion is in the Princesses."
Shadow Weaver turned slightly to regard Adam before addressing Hordak once more.
"There is much to learn from this child. If you allow me the chance to examine him."
"C-C-Catra?"Adam squeaked. While no one was looking Catra smoothed a hand through the boy's hair.
"It's ok," she whispered, "don't worry about her."
"And if he is simply some child? Devoid of any power? Have you considered that the sword might be his only asset?"
Catra swallowed the protests rising in her throat. Shadow Weaver nodded.
"He can always be disposed of when you command it, my lord," Shadow Weaver said with callous indifference, "or should you see it as most prudent, I would simply put him with the other children. A soldier in our army. Nothing more."
"Who'd take him?" Grizzlor grumbled. "Little freak…" he yelped as a blast of red lightning crackled by his ear and scattered the soldiers behind him in terror.
"I am not speaking to you, Force Captain," Shadow Weaver hissed. She bowed to Hordak once more. "With your permission, sire, I would start at once…"
"You do not have my permission," Hordak said, then looked at Catra, "and neither do you have my permission to enact this plan of yours. For a start, if he has no 'control' of the warrior's actions, I fail to see how this wouldn't simply result in more chaos."
"I've got that handled," at slight arching of Hordak's eyebrow, Catra added, "m-my lord. He's already pledged himself to us! So long as Adam's safe, he's on our side. He made that deal with me." "You made a bargain for the boy's life then," Shadow Weaver said. Catra then realized that, broken down to its component parts, that was her plan exactly. She didn't think of her plan as holding Adam hostage. Certainly she didn't imagine most hostages got special food, clothes, and attention. Really, she wasn't doing anything wrong. The little booger was happy to have all this nice stuff. She was starting to see this wasn't just her doing the smart thing; she was doing the right thing.
Love to see you handle this one, Adora. She thought with bitter pride. You never would've lasted a second up here, playing the hero in front of Lord Hordak. Now you'll see. She smiled at Adam. You'll see what I can do when you're not holding me back.
"You made a deal?" Hordak asked. "You made a 'deal'." His mouth was going the wrong way. He was supposed to be grinning at Catra's awesome idea. "On what authority did you make a 'deal' with an enemy of the Horde?"
"I thought-"
"Answer my question." His voice was urgent as a knife at Catra's back.
"My own," Catra offered, "as a Force Captain." Shadow Weaver sighed quietly to her left and she knew then, more than when Hordak erupted, that she'd sunk her entire argument in a few words.
"You barely understand your own responsibilities as a Force Captain, Catra, and you are making 'deals' now? You led your soldiers into captivity. You led them into a near-massacre in Horde Square." Hordak rose from his throne with a flap of his black cape. "You denigrate and demean the officers I hand-picked to lead this army and fly in the face of protocol. And you make 'deals'?" Catra shouted back, matching his energy before her good sense could take over.
"We need a way to defeat She-Ra! This is the answer!" She grasped Adam's shoulders. "All that power! And look! He's just some little kid! He'll do whatever we want… Whatever you want, Lord Hordak! We can't throw that away!"
"I am sick of hearing about the endless potential of this child," Hordak seethed, "what need has the Horde of a champion? We have the finest soldiers ever trained on this wretched planet."
"Who are we?" Catra jolted as Octavia roared suddenly.
"We are the Horde!" The room roared back from all sides. Marines, veteran frontliners, and prison guards united to drown Catra in their zealous response.
"And what is the Horde?"
"The Horde is Order!"
"Who are we?"
"We are Order!" Above all this Hordak sat patiently, a smirk playing across his angular face. A raised hand stopped the uproar and the proud silence that followed burned her up.
She was alone. Like always. Alone against a system of idiots who couldn't possibly see this kid for the golden chance he was. Army. She-Ra was an army. A one-woman army. Protocol. As if that mattered when all your Force Captains are constantly at each other's throats. It was infuriating. It was too much.
"If we break her," Catra growled, "If we break She-Ra, we break the Rebellion. They aren't just whistling at the paint on their new Princess and her shiny crown. They think she's proof that we're finished! She's proof they're gonna win! They think She-Ra is their 'hero' and with her, they can finally push us off Etheria! Don't you want to prove them wrong? Show them we're stronger? Use their hope against them?"
"Heroes." Shadow Weaver scoffed, either to push her own agenda or because she just hated Catra that much. "King Micah was the hero of the Rebellion, once."
"And he almost destroyed the Fright Zone!" She heard the deafening silence before she considered what she'd just said.
She was amongst the youngest people in the room, but even she remembered being rushed out of bed, four-years-old and bleary-eyed, clinging to Adora as a den-sergeant drove them forward. Red lights gleamed overhead, sirens blared, and as they'd passed over one of the Compass Roads, the main avenues of the Fright Zone, there had been a black tide of soldiers marching under them.
In the present moment, she felt the heat searing from Hordak's eyes, but stayed firm.
"And he was just some guy with a magic wand. What could She-Ra do if we don't make a weapon to answer her with? What do we do when she's at our gates?"
Hordak stared at her, then turned his head down towards Adam. His eyes narrowed.
"Warden Kronis," his voice was crisp and clear, sharp as the edge of an executioner's axe, "take the boy to the Beast Island ferry."
A stomping slowly filled the room and Catra could feel the hungering, hateful attention realigning itself on Adam. The boy's hands slapped his ears against the noise. There was a deep chuckle from behind her.
"Scuse me, Force Captain," Trapjaw said, "got a job that needs doin'. And you ain't stopping me this time."
"My lord," Shadow Weaver raised her voice above the chatter. "Please. Do not let Catra's impertinence, or idiotic plan sour your-"
"I do not need your counsel," Hordak said, barely having to raise his voice to be heard, "it is clear to me that the child is too much of a distraction among all of you to be allowed to remain here. And I would not unleash such a potent creature into the world to be used against us by our enemies."
"I…the things we might learn from him before we dispose of him-"
"I have made my decision. Dress him up how you please and puppet him around with your magic, Shadow Weaver, if that makes you feel cunning. But don't presume I will be taken by it." Hordak glared at Catra, "Warden, move her if she will not heed my orders."
"As… As you say, my lord, I will retrieve his clothing before he departs," Shadow Weaver bowed away, and Catra's heart jumped from her stomach into her throat. She let go of Adam's shoulders and realized she'd unsheathed her claws without thinking about it.
What am I doing? Catra wondered as she stared down the towering Trapjaw with a snarl that could break glass.
"Oh, please," Trapjaw said with a widening grin, "please, give me an excuse, Catra. Please, do that for me."
In that moment, Catra threw all her hopes on sheer chance, on whatever happened next, and in a twist of fate she got her wish.
"Sorry!" Scorpia yelled as she jogged into the throne room, papers spilling from her arms. "Sorry, I'm late, Sorry! This is so hard to do with claws! Ok, I got most of these. I think there might be one or two on the steps outside." She winced, taking a few deep breaths. "Whoo! There a record for sprinting from the South-East Wing to here? If not, there is one now, heh."
The stomping had died off as everyone took in the muscular woman's entrance. Catra sidled to keep herself between Trapjaw and Adam, mind racing for a solution.
"Catra, I brought those papers we talked about," Scorpia winked so much it looked like she was having a spasm, "ya remember those papers? That we totally discussed?"
"What are you talking about?" Shadow Weaver floated forward, plucking one of the yellow pages off the ground. "What is this?"
"Uh," Scorpia huffed, "I think that's the first page? Maybe. Is it?"
"Why were these not brought to me….where are these even from!?" Shadow Weaver was caught off guard and, like most things, Catra knew this made her angry.
"It was the lining of Adam's tunic."
Catra waited to wake up from the bizarre nightmare she was having and came out of it when Adam tugged at her hand. He nodded at the big doorway in a silent question.
"Adam," she took her hand back and pressed a finger to her lips, "shh."
"Mm," Adam grumped. He really had no idea what was going on. Hordak had not flown into a rage yet and that gave Catra hope.
"Boy," Shadow Weaver said, "come forward. Can you read these?" Adam slunk away as the sorceress approached, stopped by Catra's hand. He looked at the paper and blinked rapidly.
Please. Please, Adam.
Catra wouldn't let him go and the lady of darkness wouldn't go away. Adam stared at the paper she held out between two gray fingers. It was covered in 'words' like Grox's paper had been the other day. Different words. Stranger looking words.
Adam wished he could read them. Maybe they were important.
I can try to help. The Other One's voice was clear and resonant. He had been quietly urging him to run away since Adam entered the chamber. If you see a chance, run past the lord's throne. The sword is near.
"Ah," Adam said absently, still interested in the yellow paper. There was a sudden presence behind his eyes as an idea began to appear in his head. Sounds shaped like images that didn't connect completely.
To the First Imperial Senate…The Decay of Magic…A Warning to the Universe…I, Marlena Glenn, Queen of Eternia do attest that all…compiled from many of our worlds…a slow death and the end not only of the Empire but…unless action be taken…
"Mmmmmmm," Adam clutched his head, pain pounding above his eyes. It was all meaningless to him and he couldn't begin to make any of it out.
There is nothing more I can do. Get free. Find the sword. I can protect you.
"I suppose there was little reason to hope," the lady of darkness sighed, "my lord, there appears to be a number of blue-prints here as well."
"Bring them to me," the man in the high throne said. The white-haired lady with the claws, 'Sk-or-pia' that was her name, struggled to do so. There was a flap of leathery wings and blur of movement overhead, then the lady of darkness gasped indignantly. A small creature with yellow eyes darted away on batwings, clutching the last paper in its hand.
"Lord Hordak?" Catra asked. Adam frowned. Catra sounded so scared. It didn't make him feel any better at all. He scratched one of his ears and thought about that strange word. 'Lord'. Why was that so familiar?
The test of this experimental magic is quite simple, my lord.
Please…I am not…that is not my title. Adam blinked and watched a gold wave tumble down over his eyes. The soldiers vanished and the room shifted. He gasped. He was in the old gray castle, in the throne room where his story wall was, but it wasn't empty and wrecked. It was covered in rich hangings depicting three repeating symbols.
One was a falcon perched atop a skull in gray. The next a bronze eagle flying on a pink field. And lastly, one was a simple image of the sword…no…not his sword…but like it! It was much prettier than his blade. The sapphire blade ended in a detailed gold hilt, inlaid with a brilliant blue gem.
People. There were people in the Gray Castle! A man in armor like the strange statue in the great hall stood there, alive and moving. But this armor wasn't the uniform gray of the sculpture. It was brilliant emerald over an orange uniform. The man was staring down at Adam, which gave him the strange feeling that he was much smaller than normal.
A face leaned over him, he saw a thin mouth beneath a headdress like a bird of prey. White crested with red feathers streaming down.
Of course. What would you prefer then, Sirrah? Guardsman? Man-At-Arms?
Duncan. The man said. Duncan is fine. Can he…can he see us now? I've heard babies can't focus at this age.
Adam huffed. He wasn't a baby!
It's alright. It's just a test. He'll never see this himself… and if things go as we wish, he'll never know anything about this either. It's…
For emergines, the man sighed, I know. Prince Adam. The man knelt, one fist pressed knuckle-first to the stone floor, my name is Duncan and it is my honor to serve you…may I…do I need to say more?
A bit longer, my lord-I'm sorry. 'Duncan.' A bit longer. Almost finished.
The man's helmeted head rose and stared up at Adam.
Prince Adam, there has been so much heartbreak. If this…if this is the way to end it, than I will do all I can to fulfill my role as Man-At-Arms. Your guardian. He fiddled with his helmet and revealed a proud face. It was angular at the jaw, a dark umber color, his mustache a rich jet-black horseshoe of crinkly hair that matched the close-cropped dome upon his head. Until you are ready. To be…the gold light made the tears that crept down his face gleam…to take your father's…to be…King of Eternia. I…I can't do this. Please. Not right now.
It's alright, Duncan. The bird-masked woman said sadly. You've done very well. The gold light shimmered away and the man on the high-throne was speaking.
"…even begin to read these. How precisely would keeping the boy here aid us in that?"
"Not the boy, but She-Ra!" Catra was saying, desperation in her voice, "They say she could read these before with no training! What if we teach him to read? There's so much potential to him, my lord." My lord. Adam stepped away from Catra and stared up at the man on the throne. He'd glanced in Adam's direction and stared hard with his pupil-less red eyes. Just the look made Adam's stomach sour.
Was this what Catra wanted? Maybe. Adam knelt, like the Man-At-Arms had done in his vision, and pressed his knuckles into the concrete.
"Mmmm," he hummed, "mmmmmmy. L-l-llll."
He could feel the crowded hall staring at him and blushed shyly. He dipped his head, closing his eyes to perfect the imitation. Catra was scared. He had to be brave for Catra.
"Mmmmy," he groaned, pushing out the words, "llllll-orrrrrd-dd-d. Mmmmy lllord." He grinned as the words clicked in his mind. "My lord!"
"Hee-hee," he heard Scorpia giggle, "so cute. He's like a little gentleman."
"Force Captain," the lord in question said, "what is the meaning of this?"
"S-see," Catra said, "pretty good right? He's ready to serve you."
"Ready to serve," Hordak snarled, "yes, eager to serve. Perhaps it would be better to give him your position, Force Captain. He is the only person here who hasn't lied to me." Hordak cast a hateful glare around the throne room. "We must remember our purpose in this war. To bring order. Yet there has been nothing but discord over this child since he arrived."
"Our war," Catra gasped then cleared her throat, "exactly, Lord Hordak. Our war. To bring order to Etheria. To end magic's tyranny. To make the Rebellion pay." Adam looked up as Catra padded up to his shoulder. "Adam isn't much. But he's a start. He needs the Horde, Lord Hordak, to make something of him. To take all the wildness and chaos and make him a soldier. Even magic has a place if it can serve the Horde, and Adam is ready to serve." She nodded at him. "Right, Adam?" Adam took her cue and nodded back, not sure why, but happy to see her smile when he did.
He turned back to the lord on his throne and found the man peering through him with his scary red eyes.
Hordak pushed through the emotions, hating each of them. He could kill the child outright and end this farce and he felt a powerful urge to do exactly that. But…that was petty rage talking. That was humiliation and anger over the portal incident coming back to him now. The boy, perhaps, couldn't be blamed for that.
Illogical to do so.
His soldiers. They would resent mercy and it pained him to admit that it was fear whispering that in his mind. Fear. What kind of Horde Leader would fear his own troops? He might let the child live to spite them. To show them they held no power over the boy. Over him, the lord they were honored to serve.
No. Irrational.
Most of all, he hated the thought of letting the boy go completely. Sent out of the Fright Zone, he'd likely die in the wastelands, if some enterprising soldier didn't hunt him down. Exiling him to Beast Island was a kindness by comparison. There he'd find swift doom and he would not be sport for some weak-willed foot-soldier. A mercy.
Emotional.
Exile. He knew the bitterness of that too well. He pushed down the beginning of sympathy. He was weak. He should not recognize weakness in other things as anything noble. Weakness. Flaw. Those were sins. Crimes committed in the eyes of Horde Prime. The boy sinned as Hordak sinned. Both of them apostates from the purity of strength. To condemn the child out of hand was to condemn himself, perhaps. All things had a place in Horde Prime's army, both of them included. But for this child such opportunities for honor had come too late. He had committed crimes that could not simply be waived. Justice had to be done.
Brother, he thought, If only you were here. You would know what to do. With these emotional creatures I must command and craft order from scratch. They are like you said; governed by reactions and selfish enterprise. Even given a chance to prove themselves worthy, they cannot shed their instinct to bark and holler like beasts. Show me how to cleanse their petty minds.
"My lord?"
"Speak, Shadow Weaver."
"If I may," the sorceress stepped into the center of the room, commanding all attention, "Perhaps his loyalty might be tested. Prove himself worthy of the Horde. When we take the Kingdoms and their Princesses, we must determine who among them can be swayed to our cause. It will benefit us in the long run to experiment with solutions now."
"A test?" What was the meaning of this new trick? Doubtlessly a way to keep the boy alive. If she would apply herself to her other responsibilities with the same enthusiasm she hunted down magic, perhaps the war would've ended long ago.
"The boy has insulted the Horde with his attack. This 'test' might determine the best way to punish him. Either through service, banishment, or… whatever you decide."
"That wasn't him!" And Catra. Fiery. Impudent. Young and arrogant. Yet she stood victorious, when so many others had fallen, and Hordak did not diminish accomplishments like that by ascribing them to luck. She was far too much like her mentor, though. Scheming. Desperate for power.
"Silence, Catra. Shadow Weaver, elaborate," Hordak nodded at the sorceress, intrigued despite himself.
"I can offer several potential challenges..."
"All of them totally fair, I bet!" Catra spat.
"Force Captain!" Hordak yelled. Catra bowed. With her head still hanging low, she continued.
"He's a little boy! He's been starved! He's...what does it say about us if we give him a 'test' we all know he's gonna fail?"
"Be very careful with your words," Shadow Weaver said, "you speak before our Lord."
"She raises a fair point," Hordak said, "balance is paramount to a fair judgement." He noted the rustling amongst his troopers. "As likely to fail as succeed. And if he fails, you will both abide by the outcome. Quietly and with not a word of protest. Am I understood?"
"Yes, my lord," Catra said, hiding her face by bowing lower. Her tail twitched behind her and displayed her agitation either way. Shadow Weaver inclined her head, appearing unperturbed. As he'd guessed, whatever 'test' she planned would likely be rigged in her own favor.
"Then there is only one question remaining," he said. "How is the child to be tested? What can he do?" There was a long moment where Catra and Shadow Weaver froze as they considered the question.
"Fight?" Scorpia offered. Hordak smiled and the Force Captain began to stammer. "I mean- I mean! Other things too! Maybe he plays a mean game of cards or something, my lord, we haven't really gotten a chance to ask him-"
"The boy will fight," Hordak announced, "and if he prevails he might be useful to me. If he fails the question is answered. I believe none can call this an unfair outcome."
"Yes, Lord Hordak," Catra said. "All he needs is his sword-"
"The boy is not the warrior. Wasn't that your argument? He will fight." Hordak leaned forward. "Unless you believe he's useless without his weapon?" Catra remained still for a brief moment before she leapt for the bait.
"No. He's tough. He learns fast. He'd be a good soldier." Catra looked up, eyes wide. "Ten days! Dr. Grox said he'd need ten days to be at full strength. If he's gotta fight, he should…if you'd permit it…my lord, he needs ten days to fight."
"There is no need to delay this," Shadow Weaver said, "we can have this settled before…"
"Ten days. Then he fights." Hordak watched the room ripple with his proclamation, and it satisfied him. No one was happy. As it should be. This was no theater for audacious characters of his army to play out their schemes, nor was it a democracy ruled by the chaos of a mob. This was his great project. His Fright Zone. His law. Crafted in the image of the greatest ruler in history.
He stopped to mentally flog himself for such blasphemous pride. He was made to serve Horde Prime even in this distant, forgotten place. He did as his older brother would've, no more. He was weak. He deserved to struggle. But through it, he would find redemption. That mission would include enacting Horde Prime's vision of justice.
The boy's fate would be only his to decide. The boy would die without his sword, or prove himself worthy of Horde Prime's order. And this choice would frustrate the wants and plans of his toiling subordinates. Shadow Weaver and Catra, they each in kind needed a reminder as to who ruled the Horde. Perhaps all his soldiers needed this. And…if Horde Prime had ever given him the choice of exile or a last suicide charge into enemy ranks, Hordak knew which carried greater dignity.
That was an emotional choice, but wisdom overshadowed it well enough.
"Hah, I'll fight him," Octavia stepped forward, "if you'll permit-"
"No." Hordak turned to Warden Kronis. "Warden, find a suitable opponent for the boy in the prisons. Tell them there will be a full pardon and release to the victor of the match." He considered the child again. Small. Weak. Children were such odd things. So different from what he'd known amongst his clone-brothers in the true Horde. Maybe this was crueler than exile. It didn't matter. It was justice all the same.
He was done having the boy on his mind. He'd sooner examine the indecipherable blue-prints, whose strange inventions tantalized his mind even then with possibility. The boy would die and send a message, or fall into his ranks. Either way, he'd keep the sword.
"Hooray?" he heard Force Captain Scorpia say before the din of conversation overwhelmed it. "This is… kinda good, kinda bad? Right? Eh. I'm an optimist... Deathmatch half-full… Right?"
He glared at Catra, who'd crouched to begin whispering something to the child, and at Shadow Weaver who was lurking nearby them, eyes filling with strategies.
"Force Captain," he said, and the noise died away, "and Shadow Weaver. I forbid you both from speaking to the child during this time."
"My lord!" Catra said, springing up. "Adam needs to be…if you would permit me…"
"If the boy requires explanation to understand his task, or…" he sneered, "…care…to be given to him, then assign it to one of your soldiers. I will not tolerate anymore negligence on your part. Prove yourself a leader Catra, or I will assume you are incapable of leading." He turned his eyes on his Second-In-Command.
"If the child were to survive, only then would I consider allowing you to pursue an investigation of his magical properties. You and the Force Captain will occupy yourselves with your true responsibilities… far away from the boy. If I have reason to believe his victory had something to do with either of you, his fate will be sealed. These are my orders." Shadow Weaver bowed, showing no emotion.
"Um," Scorpia grinned nervously when he glanced her way, "so…how's Catra gonna look after him if she can't…"
"Scorpia," Catra groaned, Hordak smiled as she seemed to catch on, "just stop talking."
"Warden Kronis," the sulking man perked up, "find the child a proper cell. Where he should've been since the first night." The man grinned. "Force Captain Scorpia, you will leave any relics you found on the boy in my custody. And to the rest of you," the room stiffened and stood at attention, "my orders are thus."
He let silence reign for a moment.
"Anyone who, for any reason, decides that they might take matters into their own hands and defy these orders will face swift punishment. Have I made myself clear?"
"All hail, Lord Hordak!" the room cried.
"Take him," Hordak said.
"Ca-tra?" the boy was confused, frightened and then gone from the throne room as Catra shouted after him, seeking to abate his fears. Hordak, alone on his seat of power, might possibly have felt the barest flicker of guilt, for the simple fact that the child had been doomed for the crime of misfortune, having not truly done anything worse than fall, unmeaning, into a nest of adders. If he had, nothing about him had shown it. He pushed such emotions aside without noticing the effort.
All things served the Horde. All things served Order. Even the fate of one small child.
Authors Note:
The author of this fic would like to continue to wish everyone the best in this difficult time.
Black Lives Matter
Wear a Mask
Stand with Portland Against Facisim
We're gonna win in the end.