The Original jock

The space pulsed in a thrumming echo of the turmoil tearing through Catra’s mind. The entire room encompassed the feeling of descending a staircase and missing the final step. Nowhere was home anymore. The Commission wasn’t quite as it had seemed at first, and with The Handler’s true colours beginning to show, the pressure had piled on tenfold.

Adora felt like a distant memory. The kinship they shared was damaged by the conflicting orders from each side and the need to strike favour. It boiled down to survival, except each side thought they knew how best to go about it. But a band of siblings was no match for one that had chosen to go alone.

Perhaps it was a gross miscalculation, but the longer Catra dwelled on it, the more it felt like The Handler had orchestrated the scenario to force a response from her project child. And so, Catra had withdrawn in the room that once harboured memories of a bizarre childhood. A room that now was far more reinforced that it looked from the inside. Those that opened the door would see a figure of their sister Catra sat on the bed, smirking as though no raw wound had been struck up by such a betrayal. Those familiar with her aptitude towards fabrication saw the tell-tale faults in the illusion. The glassy stare of the eyes, the wavering of details as the crying girl in the far corner of the room failed to grant the image the proper attention it needed for all degrees of accuracy.

Adora always saw past it.

“Do you really think bindings and bars will keep you safe?”

Anyone else would have made the words sound like a threat. But Adora could read the shifts before her. She knew what every sign of fear and stress meant even if the cause had never been fully divulged.

“I don’t think Dad put me here because he wants me to be ‘safe’.” Bitterness seeped through Catra’s words from behind the wavering illusion.

In the world, Catra has decided to let go of their bond and just disappear out of the window (literally) ever since that night, things had changed for the worse between them.

The Commission and The Academy were evils from the same machine. Both had trained them to take on each other and both had successfully reached that goal. How sourly victory tasted in Adora’s lips as she reached the last step of the Victorian Mausoleum that held the headquarters of her enemy’s forces.

One by one they had all fell down, the Headquarters, the Academy, ... the world they had known until know.

Her boots echoed in hollow ground, equally accompanied by small drops of blood that were forming on her right brow from the last received hit ( a full blown explosion that had causes several casualties from The Commission’s side), each step brought her closer to the goal and yet, something seemed rather off.

Something in the air lingered with electricity, normal to the common bystander but for her, this was different. The whole ambiance was thick? How to describe it?. It fell like the air had been sucked out of the room, little by little, making her drowsy and slow, heavy kids trying to shut her eyes and killing her to sleep. This had happened before, so many times during so many years.

And there she was, a contempt form of illusion. Catra wearing her best fake smile, one that was actually quite perturbing if you knew what could be behind those mismatched eyes. She seemed .. at peace? But when I’m 25 years of knowing each other had she been... at peace? Never, that’s for sure.

“Do you really think bindings and bars will keep you safe?” She asked out loud waiting for the illusionist to break down the barrier. She knew perfectly that it took more than a fake reflection of herself sitting in a bed to fool her and yet, it seemed this was t meant for her amusement.

“I don’t think Dad put me here because he wants me to be ‘safe’.”

In all fairness, was there a time when Father and Catra had actually been on good terms?.. as far as she remembered, nope.

She sighed stepping forward into the illusion, this one wavering with every step and every breath, it was too much to stand for the creator. Too many variants into play and most probable she was equally tired from their last encounter.

Still, the poor quality of the illusion served a purpose. Catra was being pushed to her limits and Adora knew she could have an opening at getting her back.

“I’m not acting unlike you...”

She finally reached the middle of the room, waiting for her to drop her guard down and talk like they always did. Neutral ground, no strings attached.

“Come on Catra, I know you aren’t on the best terms with Dad but at least he didn’t push you to make lousy illusions you know?”

A thundering of hooves drowned out all other sound. Catra could feel the breath raking through her throat, falling in stunted gasps as her own steed charged as though the fear of every god had been struck into it. A cruel plot to frame the visiting Empress had been all it took for the niceties to dissolve. A poisoning, to which she had no part in, placed the blame on the Southern Express. It had been a Southern poison, no less. And now, as the plan so neatly sowed itself together, Emperor Prime settled into the comfortable throne of ally to the fallen party, declaring war on the South. Crying out for the blood of their vicious empress to soak the ground.

And what better place to attack her than his own kingdom? Her entourage was no match for the home armies of the city’s soldiers. There was no fighting such an accusation, not with a man who had such a frightening grasp over manipulating the thoughts of his people. One speech had been all it took for the city’s people to fall for the lie, spitting horror and venom towards the ruler they had welcomed to their lands so many times before. The people were always in search of blood, following whichever target their leader decided to point his finger at.

As humiliating as the spectacle was, running was the only option. Survival fast outweighed any semblance of pride she could keep in the wake of things crumbling so swiftly. The entire invitation to Prime’s sanctum had been little more than a trap, and the edges were slowly closing in.

She’d left so quickly, able only to snatch up her horse. A couple of servants and an advisor had attempted to follow but were soon struck down off their steeds. Catra swallowed thickly, trying to blot out the memory of their blood spilling from their dying bodies.

She was alone.

One horse could not outrun an army.

One woman could not fight an army.

Even if by some stroke of luck she returned to her own kingdom alive, the war would be led straight to them, with no word prior to come to arms to prepare. It was a fight they were doomed to lose, and Prime had planned it as such.

From ahead, a white horse stole across her path, blocking any continuation at speed. With a screech, Catra’s dark steed reared as it came to an abrupt halt, snorting and huffing heavily. The blood in Catra’s veins turned to ice at the face of the pursuer.

“Sometimes I do what I want to do. The rest of the time, I do what I have to.”

A bittersweet chuff came from the Empress as she battled to act through her fear. From behind them the clamouring rumble of many charging horses could be heard. There wasn’t time.

“I could say the same.” Catra called back as her horse arched around the other, throwing its head impatiently.

“Go on then, Champion.” Cat-like eyes fixed the gladiator in a bold dare as she closed the distance between them.

Pale eyes lingered on the gladiator, appraising the subtle shifts upon her face as she dipped and took hold of the hand hanging on the outside of the bars. A soft brush of Adora’s thumb traced over Catra’s knuckles. Her hands were warm. Catra hated the comfort she found in the gesture. Oh, what a cruel gesture it was for Prime to send Adora… The same bitter sense of stubbornness that had kept her going kept Catra’s mind firm. Of all times to look weak, it wasn’t going to be as Emperor Prime’s captive.

“I could ask the exact same thing you know?”

Catra arched an eyebrow in response. It was obvious, wasn’t it? The actions of one fighter weren’t enough to sway the will of an entire kingdom. One failing horse wasn’t enough to take an Empress across hundreds of miles with an army at her heels. Adora’s sentiment, however difficult to understand, hadn’t been forgotten. It seemed Prime’s favoured Gladiator’s loyalties lay elsewhere. It was an interesting turn of events- just as dangerous as it was convenient.

As much as Catra wished to trust it, instinct dictated otherwise.

The empress pursed her lips for a pensive moment, curling her fingers around the hand that enveloped her own.

“Honour isn’t what makes us survive hardships.” The words were spoken softly, as though divulging something precious.

Nobody ever won by playing fair.

“You’re a disgraced Champion of your Emperor…You’re only here because Prime has chosen to keep you alive. I wonder why.” A scathing tone infected her words as she fixed Adora with a pointed stare.

“We both know you’re no use to him injured…So here you are.” Adora was famed for her survival, after all. It made sense that she’d be pushed into making some deal to keep her comfortable life and position as the city’s Champion.

Catra scoffed at the thought of such a predictable betrayal. Abruptly, she withdrew her hand from the gladiator’s touch. Blood was visible from across the Champion’s flank. How long had that been there? Discomfort twisted in Catra’s chest as she battled to maintain an unaffected attitude towards both of their dire positions. A chuckle simmered at the back of her throat as she drew a palm over her face.

Yes, she had been disgraced by that reckless plan of hers, trying to save what little honor The Empress still had, was of such importance for Adora, that having risked her very comfortable position almost meant nothing. Of course if her plan succeeded, she would still be alive to count her blessings far away from Prime himself.

“I’m alive only due to Jupiter’s graces. Nothing more, nothing less Empress. We are nothing but pieces to their unknown games”

Once again, she flinched from the stinging pain growing stronger on her left side. That blade had been sharper than intended but with such a poor swordsman making use of it, the blow had been unclean and brutish, making her bleed more than necessary. If this kept going, maybe she would be limping for life.

“We both know you are no use to him injured… So here you are”

Venom was spilling from that silver tongue of hers and it didn’t slip pass Adora’s ears, noticing how sharply she had taken her hand away from hers, however little that touch had lasted, it lingered on her fingers, making her crave for more and more, even though it signified a surely death on the arena.

“I breathe, there’s blood pumping through my veins and I can hold a sword in my hand. Whatever it takes for me to get you out of this wretched place… I will provide”

Was she being a reckless fool? Most probably. Her alliance had been polluted by The Lioness’s charms and the tacit promise of a better life somewhere else, far away from this cursed empire. If not, at least she would serve a better cause in death than she had in life

“I DO understand! And the game you are playing is too dangerous!..” she moved closer to the bars, leaning her forehead against the cold, rusted metal. A treacherous drop of sweat falling from her chiseled jaw. She was in excruciating pain.

A low scoff marked the Empress’ scepticism. If the higher powers had placed her in the hands of a death sentence, then higher powers be damned. In a world so filled with injustices and the need to maintain a cutthroat approach, it became hard to respect the concept of any greater beings.

“I breathe, there’s blood pumping through my veins and I can hold a sword in my hand. Whatever it takes for me to get you out of this wretched place… I will provide”

Of course, all attachments aside, it was difficult to take the words entirely at face-value given who the gladiator belonged to. Anyone could be bought if the price was high enough. The value of keeping life was often enough to sway any person’s loyalties. Regardless, the offer would be of some use, even if the assistance she asked for did not align quite with what her Champion wanted or expected.

“I DO understand! And the game you are playing is too dangerous!..”

An aloof gaze watched the growing desperation from the other side of the bars. The pallid colour of Adora’s cheeks, the blood, the stiff manner in which she moved. Even the most genuine attempts to act over such weakness couldn’t be missed.

“I always win.” The words were resolute and unwavering.

Perhaps Prime had gotten the last word this time, thinking himself wise by caging an enemy and waging a war. But the game was something familiar to the Empress.

“…let me come along with you. Let me help you out of here. Whatever you want just-“

“When I get out of here it’ll be because Prime opens the door, not you.” The words were a harsh reminder of Adora’s station. Such fanciful ideas- such selfish concepts. The bigger picture demanded a greater sacrifice. 

“Look at yourself.” A sharpness infected Catra’s words as she sought to drive a sore point home.

“You couldn’t make the journey in your condition if you tried, so stop talking about it.” Adora’s last risky attempt to take control of a situation had only resulted in more injury and little resolution to the greater problems at hand. Running away wasn’t an option, she had to understand that.

Hard cold facts for even harder and colder truths. The Empress was right, even if she wanted she couldn’t bring herself to start on such hazardous journey, let alone protect her from harm. She would be nothing more than an obstacle for her getaway. Still, the idea of being discarded so easily by this woman, was being somewhat painful on her ego. Was she meant to be so easily left aside...?

“A kingdom, a confession and... an Empress.”

No, she wouldn’t let her do that, in a way she was sacrificing herself for some kind of bargain? Was she being serious?. The Lioness had quite the game of being a snake charmer when it came to negotiations but still, this wasn’t a common snake, if only she could see that playing with Prime was the same as playing with a Dessert Cobra.

“Why are you so damn eager to put your neck on the line, Catra?. Is it worth it?”

She clutched the iron bars tightly in her shaking fingers, steadying her wavering frame from collapsing from the feverish pain on her side. The same breathtaking pain that made her forget all pleasantries with The Empress. She had allowed herself a moment of sentimental weakness for this woman and nothing more. Her facade was starting to shatter.

“I’ll say no more Empress. Your wish is my command. I shall speak at once with The Emperor..” she was hurt in more than one way and yet, she resisted the need to break those bars and save her from any wicked plan she had in mind. The Gods be damned if this was their doing! She was being punished for changing sides? So be it..

Adora bowed and neatly as her wounds allowed her to and with a faint whistle she called for her Centurion friend

“Centurion!. I’m done here. Take me to The Emperor. He needs to hear this..”

Her friend almost came down stumbling on his feet. Very aware of their conversation, he opted to keep his mouth and ears shut from

any further interference. Even though Adora was hurt, she still was as dangerous as any other day and he definitely valued his guts intact.

“...Are you sure.?” He was cut off by being taken from the hem of his leather vest, a tight grip that signaled for him that it was better to keep his tongue glued inside his mouth.

i’m…ykno…she-ra

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“the next thing I know 

it’s after the war 

and you’re next to me”

Happy end!