Princess

[Kohime is a child in this memory, maybe 6 or 7. She’s with a bunch of other children who range in age, though she’s toward the younger end of the group, and they’re in a training hall working with using staffs as weapons. It’s a lesson about form and familiarizing themselves with them, so there are no enemy combatants. The hall itself is standard for the Fright Zone: industrial, barren, and weirdly has a very green colour scheme.

A group of four or five children start hassling Kohime, teasing her and calling her names. She gets upset and lashes out, literally hissing at them, and pushes one of the other children over which starts a brawl. It’s not a fair fight at all — even though Kohime has claws and teeth, she’s outnumbered by older children, and is easily on the losing end. There’s an instructor present — a big, imposing soldier, but he does nothing to intervene and just looks on until she’s clearly lost and has been forced to just curl up and try to protect her head. He bellows that it’s enough, and then starts scolding her for being so weak, a real soldier would be able to stand up for themselves, Shadow Weaver is right -- she's completely useless, and she shouldn’t be so stupid as to pick a fight she can’t win. He tells her to quit her snivelling and go get cleaned up, and Kohime, who is now a little battered and bruised up, glares at him and the other kids but obediently goes.

She doesn’t head to the showers, though. Instead, she goes to a dorm room. It’s cold and sterile — just metal walls and a long row of upper and lower bunks, a military barracks. She huddles herself up on the lower bunk on the end of the row, cocooned in a plain, rough blue blanket, and she starts crying, though she’s trying not to make too much sound as she does. After a short time passes, another little girl enters from the hallway: Adora, but also maybe around 7 years old, and she calls for “Catra” and comes over before kneeling in front of her to pull the blanket away from her head. Kohime hisses, and Adora smiles reassuringly.]

Adora: Catra, it’s okay! It’s just me.

[She sits next to Kohime on the bed as she rubs at her tears with a corner of the blanket.]

Adora: . . .It doesn’t matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.

Catra: You promise?

Adora: I promise. C’mon, let’s go back out!

[Adora puts her arms around Kohime and guides her to her feet, then takes her hand and leads her out of the dorm and back down the hallway. Kohime's clearly cheered up by this, even giving Adora a little almost shy smile as they go. Adora is her whole goddamn world, really, she's just the best.]

This memory starts with Catra entering Hordak's ~inner sanctum~ -- one huge research lab with a big throne sitting up a dias at the back. She comes in and calls for Lord Hordak, not seeing him immediately -- instead, his creepy little flying imp creature is clinging to a pipe staring at her. He calls out to her, telling her to state her purpose, and she approaches to tell him she thought they should touch base and work on planning their next moves against the rebellion. She doesn't really know what she's doing, she's just trying really hard -- she wants to impress Hordak, wants him to value her. Hordak is kind of a creepy looking guy and probably not exactly safe!

So maybe unsurprisingly, it doesn't really go the way she'd hoped. He cuts her off, asking if wasting their advantage while the Whispering Woods regrew or letting herself get captured was part of her plan. He pulls a lever, activating a device that generates some sort of field. She doesn't recognize what it is.

Hordak: Etheria's atmosphere has proved to be a complicating variable in my experiments.

Catra: I–– [She starts coughing.]

Hordak: I just removed that variable. Tell me, Force Captain. How is your breathing?

Catra can't actually answer –– she's been gasping for air, whatever the device did rendered it completely unbreathable, and she's starting to panic as she can't properly breathe, her vision starting to blur. Hordak heads back to the lever after watching her struggle for a moment and deactivates the field, allowing her to gasp in a desperate and badly needed breath.

Hordak: Pathetic, just like everything on this backwards planet. Do you know what the definition of failure is, Force Captain? Failure is when something ceases to serve a purpose. When that happens, it becomes worthless to me. Thus far, your performance has been lacking. [He again rests his hand on the lever, a threat.]

Catra: I. . . I haven't failed yet. No one knows how to take the princesses down better than me. Trust me and let me do that.

There's a tense moment where Hordak is just staring at her, measuring, while she tries to look resolutely back –– but she can't help but keep flicking her gaze nervously to the lever Hordak still rests his hand on. Finally, he releases it.

Hordak: You say you can defeat the rebellion. Prove it. You are dismissed.

cw: shitty adult caretaker, threatening a child, physical restraint (of a sort)

Two little girls, maybe 6 or 7 years old, are playing something like tag in what looks like a factory industrial complex. Adora is gap-toothed and clumsy, Catra easily stays ahead of her by swinging up to cables and pipes, teasing her about being slow. They stop by an open door, the sorceress’ room, and after agreeing they’re definitely not allowed in there, they go on in.

Adora checks out odd computers and machinery while Catra goes up to a massive glowing red stone in the centre of the room that shocks her when she touches it. Both girls hide when they hear the sorceress returning. She’s hunched over and moaning, stopping by a cauldron to take her mask off. Her face is a grey, scarred and twisted mess and her eyes are yellow and bloodshot. It makes Adora gasp, alerting the sorceress to their presence and she shrieks, causing both girls to run.

At least until the shadows come alive, wrapping around Catra and paralyzing her with small crackles of red energy (same colour as the stone in the centre of the room).

The sorceress says, “Catra, you stay. What do you think you’re doing here?”

“We were just playing!” Is her answer.

“Insolent child, I’ve come to expect such disgraceful behaviour from you. But I will not allow you to drag Adora down as well!”

At this point, Adora tries to cut in. “Shadow Weaver! It wasn’t her fault, it was my idea too!”

The sorceress just continues on as if Adora hadn’t spoken, looming over Catra now. “You have never been anything more than a nuisance to me. I’ve kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you, but if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself. Do you understand?”

“Please, stop! She didn’t mean to!” Adora is still trying — and maybe finally it works? The sorceress releases Catra from her magic, letting her collapse on the floor with a gasp while she goes over to Adora now.

“Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control. Do not let something like this happen again.” Her tone is markedly different than it was with Catra -- tolerant, indulging, almost gentle. She fondly brushes a loose strand of hair behind Adora's ear.

The confrontation over, Adora quietly helps Catra up and walks her out of the room.

The memory starts in the prison. Catra stands before Shadow Weaver in her cell, a tray of food in her hands. Hidden in the tray is a small four-point badge, something Shadow Weaver had earlier asked her for. She’s still not sure why she brought it. She’s not sure yet she’s going to leave it, either.

“So, have you come up with anything to save your skin?” she asks, and the answer is, “You know I haven’t.”

Catra approaches and drops the tray in front of the older woman, letting its really unappetizing contents splatter all over the floor.

“Why do you insist on delivering my meals yourself? Surely you have more important things to do,” the sorceress asks from where she’s seated on the floor.

Catra crosses to the wall and leans up against it casually with a faint smile, her arms crossed, and replies, “I guess I just like seeing you in shackles.”

“We both know that’s not the only reason. What do you want from me, Catra?”

Catra almost immediately drops her act, looking somber, unsure. She asks ‘Why’ before faltering, gathers a breath and sighs, then tries again, “Why did you treat me the way you did? Why was I never good enough for you? Really. I want to know.”

Shadow Weaver narrows her eyes briefly before looking aside.

“Because you remind me of myself. You always have. Nothing was ever easy for me, either. I wasn’t born to power like Adora and others. I had to earn my power, fight for it. Why should it be any different for you?”

“I was a child when you took me in! What could I possibly have done to deserve the way you treated me?! You are old, and bitter, and weak!” Catra shakes her head, wraps her arms around herself defensively and drops to the floor to kneel before Shadow Weaver, very clearly upset.

“Ah, but you are like me. And just like me you’re losing your position with Hordak. I can see that even from my cell,” the sorceress responds smoothly, unaffected by the outburst.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Catra answers quickly, but it’s too quick, and that makes it obvious that it’s a lie.

“You’re being pushed out,” Shadow Weaver states firmly, and it’s clear who’s in control of the conversation at this point (despite the older woman being imprisoned, in shackles, a reduced version of someone who once wielded great power — it’s sure not Catra driving here.)

“I am not! It’s just Entrapta understands all that tech stuff,” she mutters –– then gives a sharp intake of breath, glancing up at Shadow Weaver. She’s made a mistake, revealing even that much, and the sorceress’s eyes narrow. “Come here,” she directs, holding out a hand.

There’s a moment of hesitation, then Catra shuffles closer — slides one leg across the floor before shifting her weight to it and sliding the other, staying in her cat-like crouch. Her expression is anxious, alarmed, and she tenses up as Shadow Weaver reaches for her despite choosing to put herself in reach in the first place. But instead of an anticipated blow, the older woman reaches to caress her, running her fingers through one of the little tufts of hair by her ear, tender and affectionate in a way she’s literally never been towards Catra (Adora, on the other hand. . .)

“She’s earned his trust. How did you let this happen, don’t you see? I want you to go further than I did. But you need to be smarter than me, stronger than me.”

“Then help me! Come up with something so you can stay!” Catra cries, and in response, Shadow Weaver shifts to cup her cheek instead. Catra leans into it, closing her eyes.

“I will try. But I’m tired now. Come back later, please,” Shadow Weaver answers. Catra stands, everything about her screams vulnerability, and she leaves the cell without another word but with a small, hopeful smile as she brushes back the same little tuft of hair that Shadow Weaver had stroked. She leaves the badge.

There’s a fuzzy moment — a little time is passing, before the memory picks up again with Catra just outside the cell she’d left earlier. She says she knows it hasn’t been long, but she’s anxious for them to work together, come up with something, and as she lets herself in Shadow Weaver doesn’t respond, sitting with her back to the exit. Catra reaches out to grasp her and her hand passes right through –– it’s a projection. The cell is now empty.

It takes a moment for her to work through it, to come to grips with what’s happened here, until she says aloud, “You were just using me all along.” But that seems to finally click things into place, and she tears up, slashing through the projection with a snarl of anger and destroying it. She drops to the ground, where there’s a magic diagram created from faintly glowing sands (the shattered remains of the badge are nearby, apparently having held the magical substance. She swipes it aside angrily and starts crying.

This one’s one hell of a roller coast ride of emotion. From the start, where she wears a front so familiar it’s clear she’s been doing it for years, to the shaky way she keeps it together as she voices an old hurt at the start — and then actually interacting with the witch. She’s afraid the woman will hurt her but so desperate for her affection that she goes anyway — and when she’s spoken to gently, caressed like maybe this person might actually care for her (love her?) it’s everything she’s ever wanted, really, and she feels unbelievable happy and hopeful to finally get everything she’s jealously watched go to another for years.

And then, well. The betrayal. You know how that goes. She probably should have known better, right? What a stupid, useless girl — of course no one would ever love her, least of all the witch, but that’s fine because she doesn’t need it, anyway. She doesn’t need anyone, she’ll take on the world teeth bared and claws out, and she’ll win in the end and show everyone who ever doubted her just how much she’s worth.