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Chapter Text

“Border patrol picked her up last night, half dead and beat to hell, practically fished her out of some stream!” Said the grey whiskered desk sergeant, craning his neck down at the lean, middle aged, white furred Magicat dressed in a crumpled grey suit, who was standing below the Halfmoon Police Department’s tall front desk. “I gotta say though Riko, I don’t envy you having to take this case.”

“Why’s that?” Asked Riko, scribbling his name grumpily onto the sign in sheet. It was late, nearly three AM, a time when all ‘respectable’ lawyers were asleep apparently, hence him receiving a malicious late night phone call from his boss an hour ago to turf him out of bed. He knew his boss didn’t like him, thinking him a do-gooder, which as far as Riko could tell, meant that he did his job properly and didn’t believe that light continually shone from his superiors arse. As a result he almost always got the late night calls, which generally meant he received the worst kind of clients to defend. Druggies, drug dealers, prostitutes and all manner of seedy denizens that the HPD dragged in for questioning at this ungodly hour.

“You don’t know?” Asked the Sergeant, smirking.

“No, hence me asking.” This officer was far too cheerful for this time of night.

“Ladies apparently a horde soldier, dragged her in still wearing her uniform!” Relayed the gleeful policeman, probably ecstatic that this wasn’t his mess to sort out. “A Magicat, a Horde soldier, even after the Great Purge! It beggars belief don’t it!”

Riko paled under his fur. A Horde soldier? No wonder this job was given to him! As a public defender Riko often had to defend the lowest scumbags and thugs of Magicat society, the ones who couldn’t afford a private lawyer anyway. But Riko would eagerly accept having to defend the most idiotic brain dead crack head with a drinking problem, over having to represent a Horde soldier. This was a case he was destined to lose.

“Right. Ok. I see.” He stammered, nearly dropping his briefcase in his shock. He took a moment to get a hold of himself before he managed to begin thinking his first steps. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t turn the case down, despite the fact he was perfectly within his rights to do so. His extenuating circumstances meant that his bosses would have to find someone else to represent this… traitor. But, it wasn’t in his nature to do so.

He became a public defender to defend the weak and the helpless, those that were incapable of fending for themselves. Whilst a Horde soldier was likely none of those things, he felt honour bound to at least try. He would never win of course, as soon as any jury heard the words ‘Magicat’, ‘Horde’ and ‘soldier’ in the same sentence, his client would be found guilty. Thanks to the Great Purge it would be impossible to find an un-tainted jury pool that didn’t hate her on sight. Hell Riko hated her already and he hadn’t even met her yet.

“Hah! Do us all a favour Riko and just rubber stamp this one and get it over with quick.” Recommended the Sergeant, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Bitch deserves to rot, no sense in drawing this out.”

Riko felt his blood boil at the Sergeants sentiment, at what he was unsubtly asking him to do. On the face of it, he knew he should probably take the man’s advice. The minute the press got hold of this, Riko would likely be vilified as the one defending a murderer, as a potential Horde sympathiser or even a traitor himself. But this was why he knew he had to take the case. There were precious few in his office that would have the guts to stand up against the impending outrage. If he turned this case down, whoever they replaced him with would either just sit in the chair next to their client and hope to blend in with the furniture, or worse still, actively work against their client to help get them convicted. Riko wishes this wasn’t the case, but such were the post Purge realities of Halfmoon’s legal system.

Riko regarded the knowing smirk on the desk Sergeants face with disgust. What was the point of a ‘fair’ legal system if those entrusted to run it dropped their principles and forgot their oaths the moment someone they perceived to be ‘evil’ enough crossed their paths. If they were happy to do it in this instance, what was stopping them doing it with any other case?

“How about you don’t tell me how to do my job, Sergeant and I won’t deign to tell you how to do yours.” He replied coolly, flashing his fang’s at the man to emphasise his point. The desk Sergeant started back in surprise at the sudden hostility before scowling and barring his own at Riko. “Oh, I see. Justice Warrior Riko is in the building, I apologise for not rolling out the red carpet!” Snapped the officer, straightening his uniform in an attempt to look more officious. It didn’t work. Riko could see straight through him. This man was merely a glorified coat hanger for his uniform, it would be better served being stuffed with straw and hung up as a scare crow than on this idiot’s flabby shoulders.

Deciding to ignore the jab, Riko decided it was high time he went to meet his client, asking the now surly desk Sergeant for directions to the interview room. After the directions were given (ungraciously I might add) Riko began walking upstairs, reading the clients sparse case file as he went. There wasn’t much, the soldier was clearly unknown to the authorities and apparently had been tight lipped when investigators had asked her questions. So far she had only given them her name, rank and number.

Cadet Catra, serial number 120356-86.

When he reached the interview room he found the door blocked by two burly looking officer’s waiting outside the door. They both looked a little worse for wear, grumpy and nursing a myriad of scratches and cuts on their limbs and uniforms. When Riko showed them his credentials their faces soured further, but they stepped aside, only stopping to give him a brief warning.

“Careful, she’s goddamn near feral!” Grunted one of the officers, brandishing his savaged arm as proof. “Fought us tooth and nail as we dragged her from holding to here!”

“Bitch nearly had my eye out!” Snapped the other, gesturing to a nasty looking cut on her cheek. “She’s secured with shackles in there, but don’t get too close or she’ll probably gut you!”

With that more than a little alarming warning ringing in his ears, Riko took a deep breath and entered into the interview room.

Riko had to admit his first impression was rather underwhelming. She was small for a Magicat, almost rake thin actually, without a single bit of fat in sight on her frame. She was orange furred, with a black tail and ears, with one gold coloured eye, the other sealed shut by a nasty looking swelling, which was not her only injury by a long shot. Her right arm was in a cast that looked suspiciously bloody and her uniform was criss-crossed with so many slash marks and tears that it resembled a collection of red rags more than anything else, though the single right sleeve was black contrasting significantly with the rest of her outfit.

“Who the fuck are you? The torture specialist?” She snarked, folding her arms and smirking at him, her eye drifting to his briefcase. “I hope there’s thumb screws in there or something because I’ve had enough of being bored to death!”

“No thumb screws I’m afraid, just legal paperwork and a tuna sandwich. I’m your lawyer” Replied Riko blithely, well used to hostile clients after years on the job.

The interview room was arranged around a metal table that was bolted to the floor, with a loop for the manacles fixed into its surface. Catra sat in the one opposite the door, chained to the table whilst the opposite chair had been conveniently placed on the other side of the room as far away from Riko’s client as possible. Clearly the officers had assumed that Riko would prefer to separate himself from his client.

Catra narrowed her eyes at him, choosing not to respond as he placed his briefcase on the table and walked over to the metal chair, slowly dragging it back to the table, noisily scraping it along the ground as he did so. “That’s better!” He said, cheerfully sitting down in front of the Horde soldier as if she was any of his other clients. “So, how has the HPD been treating you so far? Have they fed you? Kept you comfortable?”

His interaction with the desk Sergeant had given him cause for concern, he wouldn’t put it past the officers of the HPD to get some ‘justice’ in early and rough up the Horde soldier just to make themselves feel better.

Catra clearly didn’t trust him, so stayed silent, letting a long heavy pause build between them as Riko patiently waited for an answer.

“It will be far easier for me to help you if you cooperate with me, Catra.” He continued, pulling out a pair of spectacles from his jacket and balancing them on his nose. “I can’t defend you if you don’t help me, help you.”

Riko caught a hint of confusion flash across Catra’s face at those words, though she kept her arms folded and her face remained a mask of indifference.

“Are you following me, Catra?” He asked, watching her reaction carefully. Another flicker crossed her face, though this time it appeared more defensive, hostile even. “You don’t seem to be.”

The orange Magicat snarled and attempted to swipe at him with her claws. The manacles however restricted her movement and the sharp blades slashed the air fruitlessly a few inches in front of Riko’s face. He didn’t even flinch, this wasn’t the first time some idiotic client had tried to bite the hand that fed them, and it probably wouldn’t be the last either.

He sighed, unintimidated by her as she continued to hiss and spit in his direction. He’d seen this behaviour before, thugs often lashed out when they perceived themselves as being made fun of or when they felt disadvantaged by their own ignorance.

“What part do you not understand?” He asked, once again only receiving non-verbal venom in return. “Do you not know what a lawyer is?”

Bingo! The Magicat gave another snarl, though this time more subdued, as if the fight had suddenly left them.

Deciding to put the poor girl out of her misery, Riko launched into a brief explanation of his job role. “A lawyer is a trained legal professional who either prosecutes or defends those accused of crimes. In my case I am a public defender, which means that I am legally bound by law to defend you in court for your trial.”

“My trial?” Blurted the Horde soldier, apparently she understood that word.

“Yes… you have been charged with a crime, yes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. It wouldn’t surprise him at all at this stage to find out that the HPD had been so eager to lock up the Horde soldier that they’d skipped a few steps. “Please tell me they at least read you your rights?”

“What the fuck are rights?”

Deciding that now wasn’t the time to explain the whole concept of Magicat rights and their application in the legal system, Riko decided to dumb down the question.

“Did they tell you that you had the right to remain silent, to an attorney etcetera, etcetera…?”

“Oh, that’s what that was!” She remarked, though she still looked confused. Well, at least they did the bare minimum…

“Oh good, well at least that saves me some paperwork!” He huffed. In any normal case, the HPD forgetting to read a suspect their rights would have been enough to throw out the whole case and earn the prisoner their release, though Riko severely doubted such a technicality would fly with this case. Glancing down at the case file he scanned for the information he was looking for. “Well I can see they have decided to charge you with ‘resisting arrest’, ‘assault’, ‘assault on a police officer’, ‘assisting an enemy of the state’, ‘waging war against the state’, oh and treason for good measure! My, my… they gave you two different types of assault, they must really not like you.”

A short humourless laugh escaped Catra in response to that. “Trust me, I just have that effect on people. Everyone hates me in the end.” The last bit was muttered under her breath and Riko was sure that he wasn’t meant to hear that part. “So you’re actually not here to torture me?”

“No, as I have already stated I am your lawyer, I am here to help you not harm you, should you accept my services of course.”

“I have a choice?”

“Yes, you can either ask for a different representative or refuse council and defend yourself in court, though I would seriously not recommend you do the latter.”

“Why not? I can look after myself!” Snapped Catra, her tail bristling behind her. Riko had to work hard to stop himself rolling his eyes. Oh to be young and ‘always’ right.

“I wouldn’t take the chance if I were you, leaving your legal defence to a professional is always recommended if you want to win, or in your case leave prison before you die of old age. Moreover treason is a capital crime punishable by death, so if you don’t wish to risk your neck suffering a short drop and a quick stop, I would accept the legal counsel you are offered.” He informed her mildly, giving her an unimpressed look. It would be literally her funeral if she decided to refuse legal counsel.

“How can I trust you?” She spat, slouching back in her chair and giving him a suspicious once over with her eye.

“Once you sign this form,” replied Riko, pulling out said form from his briefcase, “I work for you and only you. I will be bound by law to defend you to the best of my ability.”

“Are you any good at what you do?” She asked shrewdly, confirming Riko’s slowly growing suspicion that this Magicat was far from stupid. She knows what she is, she knows she will be hated by everyone who will see her.

“My skill level is for others to judge, not I.” He stated, pushing the form towards Catra with a pen. “Bragging is a far too common pitfall for those in my profession, there are too many inflated ego’s populating our courts these days. I will only go as far as to say that I am competent, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Wow, you suck at selling yourself you know that!”

“Would you prefer I lie?”

Catra shrugged non-committedly, though her hostile posture did relax a little. “That depends… how bad is it?”

“You are essentially accused of being a Horde soldier, an enemy of the state belonging to the evil empire responsible for the Great Purge. You were found wearing a full horde uniform, near the hidden entrance to our home. So the authorities likely believe you to be a spy, which I might add, if they manage to prove is also another capital offence.” Listed off Riko, counting his points down on his fingers.

Once again, Riko spotted the tell-tale hint of confusion flash across the prisoner’s features, though this time he was unsure what she was confused about.

“It would help things proceed more smoothly if you asked me when you are unsure about something. If we do not communicate effectively then my chances of preventing your execution drop dramatically.” He said, studying the soldier’s reaction carefully before suddenly having a brainwave. “There are no repercussions for asking questions, Catra. There are no stupid questions, only stupid answers.”

It was clear the woman still didn’t believe him, but he could see that curiosity was beginning to get the better of her, so he waited patiently for her to give up and ask. However when it rained, it poured.

“What’s a Magicat, where the hell am I and why do you all look like me?” She gushed out, anxiety clawing its way onto her features briefly before she managed to regain control over her expression. In that moment Riko was suddenly struck by how young Catra had looked. Her file had provided no age as Catra had apparently refused to give one, though by Riko’s estimation she could be no older than twenty at most. This was a Horde soldier? He’d seem them from afar when he was younger, fleeing from the advancing Horde during The Purge. But thankfully that had been from a distance. Then they had seemed large and intimidating, not some slip of a girl in rags playing soldier.

“You don’t know what you are?” He asked incredulously.

“The Horde never bothered to tell me.” She snapped, scowling at him, her eyes daring him to make fun of her. Riko had never heard anything less funny in his life.

“You are a Magicat… as am I.” He started, unsure how to properly explain his whole civilisation to someone who should have known it all. “You are in the hidden Kingdom of Halfmoon, where the entire surviving population of the Magicat kingdom has taken refuge for nineteen years since The Purge.”

That information seemed to seep into the Horde soldier slowly. Riko could tell that had been quite the revelation for Catra, though she was trying very hard not to show how much it was affecting her. Probably in an attempt to not show weakness.

“Oh, what’s The Purge?” The question had been asked casually enough. Though Riko could see in her eyes that she had already guessed the answer and that she was struggling to reconcile something within her.

“The Purge is…” Riko had to pause to collect himself. It was a bad memory for all Magicat’s who’d been alive back then. “…was when the Horde attacked the old surface city above us. They took us by surprise and massacred everyone they got their hands on, down to the last woman and child. They even managed to kill the heir to the Halfmoon throne, Princess Katriska. It was a dark day.”

“Is that how I came to be in the Horde?” Asked Catra quietly, her eye now fixed on the metal table between them.

“I don’t know. We were unaware that the Horde kidnapped anyone, though it is possible… do you remember much?”

“First thing I remember is being pulled out of a box in the trash by A- someone and being told I must’ve been thrown out because nobody wanted their pet anymore.”

Riko’s heart broke silently at that revelation, but he was also suddenly extremely glad he’d decided not to refuse the case. This woman had been abandoned by Halfmoon, yes she had fought for their sworn enemy but by the sounds of things she had no idea that her own people even existed. She was as much a victim of The Purge as anyone else, she just didn’t know it until now. He could tell he was only scratching the surface of this girl’s story, this wasn’t going to be the open and shut case he’d been expecting.

“You have been with the Horde since you were a child?” He asked, trying not to let his pity show. It probably would do nothing to endear this girl to him if he did.

“For as long as I can remember. I- I don’t know anything else.” Catra seemed to shrink further and further into herself with every admission. Riko guessed that she probably hadn’t talked about this with anyone for a while, or ever for that matter.

It was early days, but Riko could already feel his case forming in his mind. This girl deserved help, regardless of what she had done in the name of the Horde. She had just found her own kind, people that she’d previously had no idea they had existed, so much so that she didn’t even know what species she was. Riko doubted that he could get her acquitted, she was still a Horde soldier after all and they hadn’t even investigated her past with them at all yet. But he might be able to prevent her execution and make it so that she would maybe see Halfmoon outside of a cell one day.

But first things first.

“I know that this is a lot to take in right now and I am certain that you have many more questions for me, almost as many as I have for you I imagine, but I need your signature so that I can begin representing you.” Said Riko, tapping the form on the desk between them.

Catra regarded him for a long moment of silence. Riko could almost see the gears turning inside her brain. He imagined that so far, he was probably the only Magicat who had been nice to her. The morons who ran the HPD jail were not renowned for their hospitality; something that he had filed several lawsuits on in the past, and the Border Patrol were not much better in that regard. He was surprised they didn’t kill her on sight actually, they usually shot first and asked questions later, especially when it came to Horde scouts. That thought reminded him to check on the desk Sergeants story about how she was found, there may be more to that story.

“Can you find my family?”

Riko blinked in surprise at that question, though in hindsight he should have seen in coming. There was no way that Catra didn’t originate from Halfmoon, so it stood to reason that she might have family here. Though if she was taken as a child, it was likely that they had perished before handing over their kit willingly. Right now Catra looked more childlike than ever before, so much so Riko got a brief flashback of his own daughter when she was little, asking why her mother was no longer around.

“I can try… and get them to do a DNA test, though I will warn you, the answer may not be something you wish to hear.” He told her solemnly, not wanting to give her false hope.

“Because they’ll hate me.” Said Catra, her shoulders slumping. That wasn’t what Riko had meant at all; he was thinking that they’d likely be dead. Though now he’d thought about it, he couldn’t figure out which of those two possibilities was worse.

Riko beat down his urge to reassure the poor girl, he doubted she would believe him and he did not wish to sound disingenuous. “I don’t know what we will find I’m afraid, I just recommend not getting your hopes up.” He said kindly, once again offering her the pen. “Will you sign?”

Another long pause followed as Catra seemed to think it over again, before she nodded and snatched the pen from his fingers and signed on the dotted line.

“Thank you, Catra. I promise you I will do my best to defend you.”

“Good luck, lawyer man, I’m as guilty as they come.” She replied, her face stony.

Riko knew his boss was annoyed with him, but quite frankly he didn’t give a damn. Mostly because he was right. His boss had probably hoped that Riko would just phone the case in and do his best to play the empty suit next to his client, allowing the prosecution to just walk all over him.

His boss was an idiot for thinking this for a number of reasons. For one, Riko hated that idea down to the deepest corners of his soul. He’d never phoned in a case and he wasn’t going to start doing it now. Secondly, if he wanted someone to fall asleep during the trial then Riko was the absolute worst choice. He’d never missed a day at work and despite being horrendously overworked by the multitude of different nonsense cases his spiteful boss sent his way, he always put one hundred percent effort into each and every one of them. Behind where Riko was sitting in his bosses shuttered office, there was half a dozen different morons who had miraculously scraped through the bar exam currently asleep at their desks. On his way over from his own desk to his boss’s corner office, Riko had even spotted one of his ‘hardworking’ colleagues fall asleep mid bite of their donut, sleepily dropping frosting all over themselves.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t make this one easy for everyone, Riko?” Grouched his boss, levelling a murderous glare at his subordinate. Sir Tao was an idiot of the highest order. He was a black furred portly Magicat with a patch of white on his forehead and a face that just screamed ‘punch me as hard as you can’.  He’d gotten his position through nepotism, being the Queen’s cousin, who in her divine Royal wisdom hadn’t been foolish enough to make him anything more than an Assistant District Attorney. Which thankfully meant there someone smarter above him was calling the shots, though unfortunately this buffoon’s position still had some power, enough at least to make everyone who crossed paths with him miserable.

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t ‘skip over’ due diligence and not investigate all aspects of this case!” Responded Riko, struggling to keep control of his temper in front of this overstuffed sentient floor rug. He would be suitably surprised if Sir Tao had even read a law book, let alone passed the bar exam. “It would be dereliction of duty, especially when this is a capital case; she could be sentenced to death for these charges!”

“Who cares?” Exclaimed Sir Tao, waving his pudgy fingers around dismissively. “She’s a Horde soldier! She should be hanged as far as everyone is concerned!”

“Are we certain of that? For all we know she could have been a janitor, busy unclogging toilets in the Fright Zone all day!” Riko suspected that last bit wasn’t true, just from Catra’s whole demeanour during his first interview with her. She was almost certainly battle trained and experienced, but right now he just wanted to get his point across. “It would be a grand win for Halfmoon the day we hang a Horde lunch lady or something just to make ourselves feel better!” Continued Riko sarcastically, hoping that this very basic argument might break its way through Tao’s thick head.

By the looks of things, it hadn’t, and Sir Tao only seemed to get more obstinate, puffing out his chest and bristling his fur. “There is royal interest in this case Riko!” Retorted Tao grandly, preening sycophantically as he gestured to the large picture of his cousin, Queen Cyra, affixed on the wall behind him. The painting had previously adorned the main wall of the entire public defender’s office, but Sir Tao had moved it into his office in an oh so subtle attempt to hint at his lineage; deciding to hang it behind his office chair so that Queen Cyra gazed directly over the top of his head.

Riko had personally never met the Queen, but by all accounts she was a good ruler; smart, kind and fair. This was in great contrast to her cousin; though Riko couldn’t help but smirk whenever he was in the room with both his boss and the painting. Despite Tao’s best efforts to use the picture to intimidate anyone who had the misfortune to grace his office, the canvas Queen Cyra instead looked distinctly like she was glaring down at the back of her cousin’s head with a look of poorly concealed disproval at his nonsense. “I am getting regular calls from the palace for updates on the case! So I would like to be able to give them good news.”

“Oh, well in that case we have to be extra diligent then!” Exclaimed Riko, taking his opening, causing Tao to freeze mid-preen.

“What?”

“If her majesty is looking over our shoulders then we must ensure that we leave no stone unturned and no lead left unchecked! She wouldn’t want us to shirk in our duties, Horde soldier or not.”

Sir Tao’s stupid pudgy eyes bulged momentarily as he wrapped his slow witted head around Riko’s argument. For a man in charge of lawyers, Sir Tao was shockingly slow on the uptake; the man couldn’t argue to save his life. Riko knew he had won the argument, because once again he was right. He still felt like this was a pyrrhic victory however. He wished that he didn’t have to argue with his own boss to make sure that someone received the bare minimum of due process. It was almost insulting how often he’d had similar such arguments with this man.

“But do you understand what that would mean!” Blustered Sir Tao, throwing a worried glance back at his immobile cousins visage. “To investigate this, some of us would have to leave Halfmoon! Gather information from the surviving Kingdom’s for both you and the prosecution.”

“I am aware of this yes.”

“It would mean breaking the veil of secrecy that had protected Halfmoon since the Purge, risking us all in the process!”

“I severely doubt they are going to send you, sir.”

Sir Tao tried and failed to hide his relief at Riko’s word’s, who in turn had to supress another eye roll. I hate this man.

Sir Tao wittered and wailed about the prospect of disturbing his cousin to inform her of the cases development, dragging his feet as much as possible as he usually did when he had to do something he didn’t want. Riko waited patiently for the fool to get his act together and crossed his fingers.

Royal ascent was needed for this part of the court process. Leaving Halfmoon to investigate Catra’s case would mean breaching security and making themselves known to at least some of the wider world. The Horde had assumed that they had managed to destroy Halfmoon in its entirety nineteen years ago, unaware that half the city existed underground. So to allow them to recover, a strict layer of secrecy had been added to Halfmoon’s defences. They had isolated themselves from the wider Etheria, having no contact with any of their old allies and friends for nearly twenty years. That secrecy had kept Halfmoon safe, but there was a growing feeling these day’s that their isolation from the world had gone on long enough and calls to return to the surface were getting louder.

Riko still thought it was fifty-fifty whether or not the Queen allowed this though. She would likely be reluctant to risk her kingdom for the sake of one Horde soldier, even if they were a Magicat.

After a short while of watching his boss fret, Riko got bored and went to get some tea. When he returned he found Sir Tao was on the phone, standing on his feet and sweating profusely as he babbled down the line.

“Yes your Majesty, I- I understand that- No of cour- It wasn’t my idea you know cousin!” He spluttered, clearly out of his depth. Before he futilely pointed at Riko for the benefit of his caller. “He’s the one who said it was necessary, I- who? Oh, Riko Southpaw your Majesty… you knew his mother? I fail to- yes I will put him on but I- yes, your Majesty!”

Sir Tao gave Riko a look of pure loathing before he handed the phone receiver over. Riko did his best not to look too smug as he took the offered phone from his boss. He didn’t try too hard though.

“Hello, Southpaw here.” He stated, doing his best to sound professional.

“Ah, Riko, this is all your doing I’m told!” Came a very familiar voice down the line. He’d never met the Queen, but he had heard radio broadcasts and televised events that she had been a part of. So he’d recognise the voice of his sovereign anywhere. Laughably, he realised he had stood up slightly straighter upon hearing her voice, as if the monarch could see and critique his posture down the phone line.

“Yes, I apologise if I have caused any issues your Majesty.” He replied, trying to keep his nerves from creeping into his voice.

“Don’t apologise Riko, you are just doing your job, I would expect nothing less!” Replied the stately voice of Queen Cyra. “It does however put me in a bit of a pickle you realise.”

“I am aware of the security concerns your Majesty.”

“Hmm, not your department to worry about it so don’t sweat too much!” The Queen let out a short bark of a laugh at that. “Though I must say I agree, from what little my idiot cousin bleated at me I can tell this is going to be more complicated than usual. But that shouldn’t stop us from following correct procedure, I am Queen of all Magicat’s after all and given that all laws are signed in my name it wouldn’t do to start ignoring them just because she wears horde pyjamas to sleep at night!”

Riko was unable to restrain the sigh of relief that escaped him at those words, if the Queen had batted his concerns aside like his ‘venerable’ boss had, he might have quit his job on the spot.

“Thank you your Majesty, I do believe it is for the best!”

“Don’t cross your fingers too hard Riko, we don’t know what state Etheria’s in these days. For all we know the Hordes won and there aren’t any allies to speak to left!” Remarked Queen Cyra, sighing down the line.

“I suppose we can only hope, your Majesty.”

“Has the Horde soldier told you anything of use? Nothing that is under attorney client privilege of course mind!” Asked the Queen, correcting herself before Riko could do so himself. “State of the war, that sort of thing.”

“I haven’t got round to asking yet, I’ve only gotten a bit of backstory out of her and that was like pulling teeth, she initially thought I was there to torture her for Horde secrets!”

“I can’t imagine what nonsense the Hordes been filling her head with if she believes that’s how the other kingdoms operate!” Grumbled Cyra, clearly perturbed by the idea.

“Yes I know, from what I have gleaned so far she hasn’t had a nice ride with them. Though she hasn’t admitted too much.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Alright, I better let you get back to work, hand me back to my fool of a cousin-,” she asked, before suddenly changing her mind; her voice turning hesitant. “Actually hold one moment Riko, could you… could you ask her about…”

From the Queen’s tone Riko knew exactly what she was referring to. Hardly anyone had been spared from pain as a result of The Purge, and the Royal family had been no exception. Where Riko had lost a wife, the Queen had lost her child, the King losing an arm along with his daughter. Unlike Riko’s wife Mira however, Princess Katriska’s body had never been recovered. Riko was unsure if the Queen was holding out in hope, or just wanted answers.

“I don’t get the impression she knew of any other Magicat’s in the Horde, though I will ask your Majesty.” He replied quietly, briefly flashing back to that terrible day.

“Thankyou.” Came the pained, but grateful reply. “Actually, you know what, I’m not in the mood to speak to that halfwit, tell him I’ll update him when I have cleared things with the council, goodbye Riko and good luck.”

“Thank you, mam.”

There was a soft click and the line went dead. When he lowered the handset from his ear, Sir Tao snatched it from his hand and pressed it to his head.

“Hello? Cousin? Are you there?” He asked the air foolishly. “Did you hang up on her?” He questioned, gaping at him aghast. The phone was old fashioned, meaning that you couldn’t end the call without replacing the receiver back onto its cradle, which was on Sir Tao’s desk five feet from where Riko was standing. He couldn’t possibly have ended the call without his boss seeing.

“No sir, she said she had to get the ball rolling and apologised she couldn’t wait to speak further with you.” He lied, deciding that the truth in this instance would get him nowhere, as much as he wanted to see Sir Tao deflate like a balloon.

“Oh, well get out then. I’ve got things to be doing!” Snapped his boss, making a shooing motion towards the door.

Riko sighed, turned on his heel and left. He knew for a fact that his boss had almost nothing to do; the man took the concept of delegation to new dizzying heights, meaning that he just signed off on the odd request and everyone else in the office did his work for him. Riko on the other hand rarely gave anything to his assistant, Finn, making sure everything that was his job to do was completed and double checked. He viewed the assistant role as more of an apprenticeship position anyway, Finn had the makings of a good lawyer as long as someone took the time to train him, which Riko did whenever his workload allowed.

Sitting heavily down at his cluttered desk, Riko rubbed his eyes tiredly. He’d been up since Sir Tao’s call had woken him up in the middle of the night and was running on less than two hours sleep. He was going to finish this small pile of paperwork that his prison visit had generated and then go home. He would begin working on Catra’s case in earnest in the morning. There was a lot of ground to cover.

Catra limped around the small dimensions of her cell slowly, she didn’t exactly have much real estate to work with so there was no point in moving anything faster than a snail’s pace, and anyway the point wasn’t the walking, it was the thinking. The last forty-eight hours had been a bit of a rollercoaster for her, she’d defected from the Horde, nearly died in her escape attempt and discovered a hidden civilisation of Magicats that no one in the Horde had bothered to tell her existed. That last part would have been quite the revelation for her had it not been for the fact that, unsurprisingly, they all hated her. Yeah, that tracked given the week she’d been having.

Well, not all of them seemed to hate her, this Riko guy seemed ok… though Catra wasn’t fully sold on him yet. It helped that he hadn’t promised her the moon, in fact quite the opposite, he’d painted a rather bleak future for her where the ‘best’ outcome she could expect was life imprisonment.

Catra however didn’t really care what happened to her right now. She’d discovered the truth, a truth that deep down she had always known. Shadow Weaver, in the least shocking twist imaginable, had lied about her origins. She was not a mongrel, a freak of nature, or some botched Horde experiment. She was a Magicat, a member of a whole race with their own history and customs. And she had fought for those who had nearly wiped her people off of the face of Etheria.

‘The Great Purge’, that’s what Riko had called it, with deep seated sadness in his eyes. It was during that awful invasion that Catra was taken. She hadn’t been found abandoned or tossed aside by someone who didn’t care for her. She’d been taken from a life that, had she been allowed to live it, would have been far better than the one she had experienced in the Horde. It made her angry, as much at herself as the monsters that she’d fought for. During her slow circles of her cell, her mind repeatedly flashed towards a blonde girl, pleadingly holding out her hand for her at Thaymor, begging her to do the right thing.

Her reasons for staying with the Horde seemed petty now. So what, she’d loved Adora? So what, that the blonde idiot had left her behind? Boo-fucking-hoo! Literally thousands of Magicat’s had loved their family members and friends who’d been massacred by the Horde. She’d let her petty jealousy and raging resentment turn her into exactly the same type of person who’d probably killed her parents. She wanted to go back in time and slap herself, scream in her own face to stop and think, to stop listening to that old hag who barely had to fan the flames of her jealousy and abandonment issues with a few obviously manipulative words to get her do exactly what she’d wanted.

It was too late now. Thaymor was in ruins, Brightmoon likely still hadn’t fully recovered from the battle damage caused by her last attack and don’t even get her started on that portal. The portal. Her coup de grace, the awful cherry on top of the shit sandwich that was her ‘glorious’ military career. Riko had told her that he’d do his best to prevent her execution, she hadn’t told him the full story yet, as far as he knew she was just a cadet, not the former second in command to the Horde.

She was going to tell him, all of it, but she was still dreading it. She knew he would likely drop her case in disgust when he found out. She would if she was in his position. She deserved a noose, firing squad or the electric chair, whatever they used to get rid of the worst of the worst in this kingdom. The only reason she hadn’t told him to plead guilty on all counts was that she was a coward. She was hard wired to survive so she couldn’t bring herself to just get it over with. Instead she was going to let it drag out and have her whole life dragged over the coals in front of an audience. Whatever, she deserved it.

The main regret she had about this whole situation was that she wasn’t going to get the opportunity to say sorry. Not to Halfmoon, she knew that she would eventually get round to apologising to her people when all the chips were down and she was laid bare. They deserved that much, as much as she wilted at the prospect. No, she regretted not saying sorry to the one person who’d ever shown her love. Adora.

She recognised it for what it was now. Her grief for her own actions in the face of her own previously unknown peoples suffering had stripped a lot of her denial away, tearing it off like a dirty bandage. She’d loved Adora. Adora had loved her. She still loved Adora. But she knew she had lost the right to ever get a modicum of what they’d had back. She’d done far too much wrong by now. Adora hated her now anyway, especially after the portal.

A fist pounding on her cell door roused Catra from her spiralling thoughts. The view slot in the door snapped open and a pair of eyes glared at her through the hole. “Your lawyer is here to see you!” Snapped the guard, gesturing grumpily for her to come towards the door. “Hands through the hole, palms up and claws sheaved!”

Catra complied and allowed herself to be shackled, the fight had left her long ago, sometime during last night. She didn’t have the energy nor the will to hiss, spit, and struggle as she had before. Not now that she knew the truth.

After she was restrained, the guards opened her cell and led her back towards the same interview room she had met Riko in last night. He was already waiting for her, though not in the same chair he’d occupied the night before; he was now sitting on what had been Catra’s side of the table in a chair positioned next to her original one.

This time however he was not alone. Another Magicat was with him, standing stiffly in the far corner opposite Riko next to a large glass mirror that occupied most of the far wall. She was a female, with black and white striped fur and what appeared to be a permanent scowl. Catra recognised her as one of the Magicat’s who’d questioned her on the night she had arrived in Halfmoon, when she had gotten the distinct impression the woman didn’t like her. Quite frankly the woman needed to get to the back of that very long line.

Unable to break all her bad habits, Catra smirked at the woman as she was roughly dumped into the chair next to Riko and shackled to the table. Riko gave her a small smile as she was secured before giving a motion towards the female Magicat indicating that she should sit.

“Sit down Prima, let’s get this over with. Preferably with as little shouting as possible!” He said tiredly, opening his briefcase and pulling out a notepad. “Catra this is Detective Sergeant Prima Tailfinder, the lead investigator of your case.”

“Sup.” Nodded Catra, unable to stop her usual snark from leaking into her words.

Prima growled lowly as she sat down, her eyes sending daggers at the Horde soldier as she did so. Riko sighed heavily on Catra’s left, apparently resigned to the direction this interaction was destined.

“Before we begin, Catra I would like to remind you that you have the right to remain silent and not respond to any of Detective Prima’s questions. I will also remind you that nothing you say in her presence or that of the prosecution who is hiding behind the mirror-,” Riko raised his voice irritably as he said that last part, and glared over Prima’s shoulder at the large mirror behind her. Catra narrowed her eyes at the mirror and, now that she concentrated on it, she could hear some awkward shuffling emanating from behind it. “-is subject to attorney client privilege and can be used in court during your trial. I would also like to point out that my colleagues refused to allow me time to debrief you properly, so once again be careful what you say.”

“Are you planning on letting your client speak at all Riko?” Snapped Prima waspishly, as she yanked a small notebook and pen from her jacket pocket.

“Only as much as strictly necessary for the purpose of this meeting, Prima!” Replied Riko, hotly as he glared at the stubborn looking woman. Catra wasn’t a hundred percent sure, she was not an expert at spotting Magicat tells having only known they existed for two days, but she could have sworn there was a spark between these two. An angry, hate-each-other-so-much-that-they-fuck-on-the-regular spark, but a spark nonetheless.

“Fine!” Replied Prima, grumpily readying her pen and leaning over to press record on what appeared to be a tape recorder set upon the desk. “Detective Sergeant Prima Tailfinder beginning interview with Horde Cadet Catra, no last name given, and her attorney, Riko Southpaw. The time is eight-forty-five AM.”

Catra readied herself, she had already sat through this woman’s questions, but that was before she was either willing or able to answer any of them. She had only just been revived from being Half-dead in a stream a few hours before and had been deeply confused by the whole ‘Magicat people that look like me’ situation. She had played it safe and reverted to her Horde enhanced interrogation training, replying to every question with just her name, rank, and number. Though she had omitted her true rank from that list, allowing them to assume she was a cadet and not the former second in command of the Horde! She had rightly guessed that wouldn’t have gone down well, though technically she had no rank anymore considering she’d defected, but she doubted that distinction would be treated all that favourably. But as she had already decided, it was time to set the record straight. She’d found her people, she shouldn’t lie anymore.

“Actually, technically I have no rank anymore, I defected…” She began before she was cut off by Prima.

“Ah, convenient given that you are now in our custody, I’m sure you would say anything to save your neck!” Retorted Prima, levelling her with an unimpressed gaze. Riko laid a hand on her forearm in an attempt to rely a silent message to get her to back down, but Catra didn’t care she wanted to set the record straight.

“Oh well it probably wouldn’t be in my interest to tell you my rank wasn’t ‘cadet’ it was ‘commander’; second in command actually!”

Riko’s hand stiffened on her forearm as Prima froze momentarily in shock at Catra’s words. Her face eventually however shifted into one of disbelief. “I doubt that, you’re what? Twelve years old? Barely more than a kitten anyway, so I doubt-“

“You are aware that the Horde uses child soldier’s right?” She interrupted, unable to stop herself snarling as she did so. Prima barely flinched at the challenge, but she could tell she had been surprised by the ferocity in Catra’s voice. “Hordak doesn’t care how old you were as long as the job got done! Once I stiffed that bitch Shadow Weaver, Hordak promoted me and I took over from her. He had no issues with me, right up until he tried to kill me anyway.”

There was a stunned silence in the room, after her words had been blasted out into the world. Catra much to her surprise, felt lighter at her admission. It was most certainly an admission of guilt and she probably shouldn’t have chosen to make it right now. But she needed to get it out, she had an absurd urge to not lie to her own people. People that she hadn’t realised existed until a few short hours ago.

She half expected Riko to drop her arm as if it was on fire and leave the room to go wash his hands of Catra’s disgusting presence. But he didn’t. Instead he slowly got to his feet and levelled an admonishingly stern gaze at first at Prima and then the mirror behind her.

“This is why I would have preferred to debrief my client alone!” He said, his tone only a hair below shouting. “How can I adequately defend her if I cannot be privy to answers that I haven’t been given the opportunity to ask for yet?!”

“She’s a Horde soldier Riko!” Shouted Prima, standing to her feet also. “Why do you care?”

“BECAUSE IT’S MY JOB TO CARE!” Bellowed Riko, slamming a fist onto the table angrily; startling Catra with the sudden ferocity exuding from the normally soft spoken Magicat. “If we all suddenly abandon our principles and rules when faced with someone who we believe to be ‘too reprehensible’ then what is to stop us doing it to others?”

“It’s alright, Riko… I do deserve it, whatever it is I’ve got coming.” Interjected Catra quietly, stealing the steam from Riko. Prima’s eyes widened at her in shock, clearly not expecting such small words from Catra. Riko however, much to Catra’s surprise, kindly patted her arm and gave her a small, if a little strained, smile.

“That is not the point Catra, it’s- a conversation for another time I think… but perhaps save anymore earth shattering revelations until we’ve had time to properly talk.” He said, sitting back down and doing his best to reduce the bristle of his fur.

Deciding that Riko had been correct, Prima begrudgingly turned off the tape recorder, her eyes locked on Catra as she did so. “I think that perhaps we should do this another time.” She said, pocketing her notebook and standing. She was looking at Catra when she spoke, but her voice was raised in a manner that suggested to Catra that she was talking to those in the next room, behind the glass.

As Prima left, Riko quickly followed her out, trying not to let his anger show.

“Is that all it takes for you to abandon your oaths and your vaunted police rulebook?” He carped, as the interview room door shut behind them, leaving them in the main corridor of the HPD. Prima looked about to turn round and slash at him angrily with her claws, before she seemed to take a deep breath to calm herself.

“Not all of us are as determined as you to be a righteous paragon of justice, Riko!” She replied, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Clearly trying not to punch her old flame.

“I just do my job properly, which apparently is a surprise to everyone!” Retorted Riko, waving his arms about in frustration. “I would have expected you to understand that much at least!”

“I understand Riko, I get it I really do, but she’s a Horde soldier!”

“Former Horde soldier, you heard what she said.”

“She could easily be lying about that!”

“All the more reason to not rush into this!” Implored Riko, stepping closer to Prima and placing his hands on her shoulders. “We are barely seeing the tip of the iceberg right now! She didn’t even know Magicat’s existed until we dragged her body out of a stream and locked her in a cell. She thought that she was a piece of trash left behind and picked up by the Horde for God’s sake!”

“So what? Even if that’s all true, she’s was the second in command to Hordak himself! Even if she didn’t know about The Purge, she’s likely done similar acts under his orders!”

“Which is why I want this investigation done properly! If after it all, she’s found guilty and sentenced to hang, then so be it. We’d have the full story and be able to make a sensible judgment about it. If we rush in and just launch her into the courthouse for a five second show trial before throwing her out again and hanging her on the nearest tree or lamppost, we would be no better than the Horde!”

Prima seemed to deflate a bit upon hearing that argument, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “I- I’m sorry Riko, I-“

She was cut off by the observation room door opening, as a tall silky black furred Magicat with a white ended tail and an expensive looking suit, slinked out and regarded them both with an oily smile.

“Ah, I see that Riko and his penchant for lost causes is causing you grief again, Prima!” Tittered Damian Smugmaw, ‘prosecutor at large’. Riko dropped his hands from Prima’s shoulders and regarded the man with a scowl.

“Damian, I see that you have managed to find a small gap in your grooming schedule to actually do your job.” He retorted, folding his arms standoffishly. He disliked Damian intensely, which had nothing to do with the fact that this was Prima’s ex-husband. Well, it didn’t help anyway. Damian was already an elitist arrogant snob to begin with. His marital history was just icing on the cake.

Prima rolled her eyes and stepped back from Riko, giving Damian a clear ‘will you please leave it’ look. “Please Damian, I don’t have the energy for this, it’s far too early in the morning.”

“Don’t look at me darling, your boy toy is the one who has something to prove not me!” Snickered Damian, checking his perfectly manicured claws absentmindedly. Riko could smell the strong scent of whatever fur oil Damian was wearing from where he was standing, a full meter away. That might not sound like much of an issue, but given the generally high sensitivity of Magicat noses, Damian may as well have been bathing in tear gas. The man was actively going out of his way to be an ass.

Deciding that the best course of action would be to ignore his opponent (Riko had cursed his lot in life when he’d discovered Damian was to be the prosecutor on this case), he ignored the black furred Magicat entirely at talked at Prima instead.

“How long till the investigation is complete?” He asked her, doing his best to ignore the shit eating grin on Damian’s face that he could see out of the corner of his eye.

“Depends upon how long it takes to contact whatever remains of the rebellion.” She replied, shrugging. “It’s been nearly twenty years since we had any meaningful contact with the surface, so I wouldn’t hold your breath. It’s quite possible the Horde could have won by now as well for all we know.”

“Why don’t you ask little Miss ‘Second in Command’ in there?” Butted in Damian, determined to carry on making his odious presence known. “Assuming everything out of her mouth isn’t a lie, she should know the current state of the world, at least from the Horde’s perspective.”

“I’ll ask her, though a few minutes ago aside, she has been rather tight lipped thus far so no promises.” Said Riko, pointedly continuing to ignore Damian.

“Anything you can tell me about topside would be helpful. The more I know the less dangerous it will be.” Nodded Prima, giving Damian a tired look. “Alright I’m going to go and get all the paperwork sorted for this. Riko don’t trust her too much, she’s still a Horde soldier. Damian, for fucks sake have a shower, you smell like a tarring pit!”

Damian cackled as he turned on his heel and began to walk away, clearly undeterred by her words, his tail swishing arrogantly behind him.

“I don’t know what you ever saw in that man, Prima. He’s a turbo charged cu-.“

“I was young and didn’t know better, ok?” Grumbled Prima, swatting at Riko half-heartedly. “He seemed nice at the time!”

“Did you have a concussion?”

“Fuck off Riko! Your client is waiting and I’d prefer to know what she knows before I leave Halfmoon tomorrow!” She spluttered, trying to hide her smile. They’d been together for two years now, she could never stay mad at him for long.

“Alright, alright, keep your fur on!” He chuckled, turning back towards the door to the interview room. “See you at dinner?”

“Yes, though it’s your turn to cook Riko Southpaw!”

“If you are happy to risk your life by trusting me not to poison you, then sure thing!” He threw over his shoulder as he re-entered the room.

When he turned his gaze back to Catra he found her staring glassily at the mirror opposite her. The only recognition she displayed to indicate she’d registered him coming back in was a slight twitch in her black ears, flicking in his direction.

“How long have you and detective lady been fucking?” She asked, her gaze not leaving the mirror.

Riko chuckled dryly at her astute observation; there was no fooling this one.

“We’ve been together just under two years now I think; why do you ask?”

“It seemed like you didn’t agree much with her point of view. I just wondered how that relationship dynamic works.”

“We have a rule written in stone that we don’t take work home. We can disagree, live our own lives outside of our relationship, but we don’t drag it into our home if we can help it.” Explained Riko as he sat down opposite Catra in the chair Prima had previously occupied.

“Does it work?”

“Not always, but no relationship is without conflict. Love and other such emotions have a habit of magnifying things if you’re not careful, so it’s best to always keep an open mind.” He said, grabbing his notepad and pen before sighing and addressing the elephant in the room. “So, second in command of the Horde? It would have been nice to know that before you blurted it out in front of everyone else.”

Catra shrank a little in her chair, though she notably didn’t look to regretful about her admission. Riko guessed she was a little guilty about blindsiding him with her revelation, which he felt was a good sign that she was warming up to him.

“I- I’m sorry about that. I just don’t want to lie anymore, I- I’ve found my people and I don’t want to lie to them about what I’ve done.” Riko could see tears welling up in the corner of her eyes, though they didn’t fall, Catra seemed determined not to let one droplet escape her.

Her sentiment surprised him however. His memory of the Horde had been that of armed thugs slaughtering everything in their path, not a sniffling girl barely old enough to buy liquor. He felt an urge to hug her, console her and try and wipe those tears away. But he knew it wasn’t the time for that yet, now was the time for answers.

“Well, how about we set the record straight. Tell me everything, your whole story.” He asked, readying his pen and giving her a small encouraging smile. “We are alone now so no one can find out about what you tell me without your permission.”

“Why do you want to know?” She responded, wiping her nose with her sleeve and blinking her un-bandaged eye rapidly. “I don’t matter, so why not just hang me and be done with it?”

“Because you have a story to tell.” Replied Riko simply, giving her manacled hand a quick pat with his own white paw. “Halfmoon failed you when they let you be captured, allowing for the string of events that led you to become who you are today. It is our people’s loss that you never lived amongst us, nor had a life that didn’t mean living under the iron boot of the Horde. But also, if I am to defend you successfully I need to know everything about you. So I can present you, Catra, on the bench rather than some nameless Horde soldier, a uniform to pin all our anger on.”

“I’d deserve it if they did, I’ve done things that… that I regret.” Interjected Catra, hugging herself and refusing to look Riko in the eye.

“And if Halfmoon sees fit to punish you for those crimes then so be it.” Answered Riko plainly, earning him a confused look from Catra. “But it would be a travesty of justice if we executed you for a crime you did not commit.”

Catra opened her mouth to protest Riko’s words but she was halted by a raised hand from her attorney. “I understand you have ‘done things’ and we will get to those in due time. What I am talking about is this: You are charged with treason.”

“So?”

“How can you have been treasonous?”

“I fought against you, against Halfmoon?”

“Did you? Or am I mistaken in remembering that you had never heard of Halfmoon only but two days ago?” Replied Riko, clasping his hands together and leaning back in his chair. “It is no accident that you are charged with this crime in particular by the prosecution office. They just want someone to blame.”

“Blame for what?”

“The Purge of course!” Exclaimed Riko, gesturing wildly with his hands. “We’ve been hiding underground for nearly twenty years from the Horde and finally by chance someone wearing a Horde uniform is dumped in our laps. Someone ‘perfectly’ suited to stand trial for the last two decades of pain and loss Halfmoon has endured. I do not seek to let the Horde off the hook for their crimes, lord knows for the memory of my wife I cannot, but I see no benefit in blaming the first half dead kitten dressed in the right coloured uniform we find for all of Halfmoon’s woes!”

“So you only want me executed for crimes I did commit, rather than the ones I didn’t?” Asked Catra, looking faintly amused.

“That is a rather crude way of putting it but yes. Though I’d prefer to avoid execution altogether and don’t think that I won’t do my best to defend you regardless of the crime, it’s my job to try and keep you out of both prison and the noose. I just have to temper our expectations as to what is possible.”

There was a long pause as Catra appeared to consider Riko’s words, her tail flicking restlessly behind her. Riko considered Catra innocent of the crimes she had been charged with (aside from assaulting a police officer of course, she’d done that whilst being dragged to her cell the first night she’d spent in Halfmoon). It was likely that if Prima found witnesses from the surface, new charges would be brought, but Riko would feel much better if she was convicted correctly, it would be a clear demonstration to all that the Halfmoon legal system could work properly. Riko felt such a demonstration was sorely needed these days.

“Ok.” Came the reply, so quiet that Riko almost missed it.

Catra let out a long breath, apparently needing to steady herself. Her eyes firmly glued to the metal table between them, her mind clearly whirring as it ordered her thoughts.

“The first thing I remember is being picked up out of a box in a trash heap by A-, another cadet of a similar age. Shadow Weaver told the girl to throw me away, telling her that I was a filthy pest, a rat scrabbling around in the trash for food...”

Riko heard the whole story. Every heart-breaking detail. Catra talked for over an hour, divulging everything she remembered about her time in the Horde. Her childhood (if one could call it that), her military training and then her combat career; stretching from Thaymor to Brightmoon and finally finishing with the portal incident. It was a lot to take in. If Riko hadn’t believed the account far too detailed to be made up, he might have called the whole story nonsense, especially about the part that described the return of She-Ra.

During her story Riko did his best not to let his emotions show. He could tell that the story was hard for Catra to tell, his pity or anger wasn’t going to change the end of this horrid story. When she finished however, he could not stop himself from reaching across the table and placing a comforting hand on the young woman’s manacled ones. It broke his heart to watch her flinch at the contact, especially now knowing the abuse this woman- no, girl had received at the hands of the Horde. She’d done bad things, that was irrefutable, but she was a product of her situation and her shame for her own actions was evident, her remorse painfully clear.

“Thank you for telling me all this Catra.” He said, giving her a watery smile. The girl kept reminding him of his daughter, they were the same age, but thanks to the Horde they couldn’t be more different. “I know that was hard for you.”

“You still want to defend me now?” She asked, sniffing and looking away to hide the tears threatening to stream down her face.

Riko regarded her for a long moment, trying to find the right words to express himself so Catra would believe him. “Yes, I promise that I will defend you to the best of my ability Catra.” He settled on saying, holding her gaze as he spoke. “You are finally home, Catra. I know this isn’t the welcome you probably wished for, but I hope that one day you may see Halfmoon, in all its glory.”

That finally made Catra cry.

Chapter Text

Catra had mixed feelings about the trial. Her issues had nothing to do with the trial itself, as far as she was concerned any verdict that the jury (a strange collection of Magicat citizens who, according to Riko, were apparently going to hear her case then vote on whether or not she was guilty) handed down would be well deserved. She was happy to let her people judge her as the demon she was. However the thing that terrified her, that really made her dread entering the courtroom, was that Adora was going to be there.

Riko had informed her yesterday that Detective Prima and her delegation had made contact with Brightmoon. That meant they’d talked to Sparkles, Queen Angella and most probably her ex best friend. Brightmoon was the shiny new home that Adora had abandoned her for in the first place, so it stood to reason that she’d now heard about Catra’s trial. Catra remembered that look of hatred, the one directed at her mere moments after the portal had been sealed. She wasn’t sure if she could take seeing that look staring down at her from the audience gallery, high above the courtroom.

Riko had given her a tour of the court where Catra’s trial was to be held, in an attempt to prepare her for the real thing. As she’d shuffled around the very officious looking oak panelled room, clinking her manacles as she went, Catra couldn’t help but compare it to the Horde’s own ‘courtroom’, where she had been put on trial for assaulting Hordak and lying about banishing Entrapter to Beast Island. The difference couldn’t be more night and day. The purpose of the Horde’s own trial chamber was purely to project Hordak’s power and authority, designed to instil fear and respect in those who entered it. There was no jury box, no seats for lawyers, for either prosecutors or defenders. There was only Hordak’s high metal throne, raised above everyone else on its high platform so that the man himself could glower down at those who’d offended him, no matter how small the slight, and dole out exposition along with harsh punishment.

Sentencing, if you could call it that, usually meant one of three things; lashes, of a number determined solely by how inconvenienced Hordak felt he had been by your ‘crime’, exile to Beast Island, or execution. The latter sentence was often carried out by simply sending the accused off to Beast Island anyway, presumably because Hordak thought that banishment to that cursed island was a death sentence regardless.

The Halfmoon Crown Court on the other hand had all the trappings of a modern and well thought out court system. The seats, even for the accused, were covered with comfortable leather; in stark contrast to the bloodstained manacles bolted to the centre of the floor in the Hordes ‘courtroom’.  The room was well lit, warm and built with an air of dignified purpose. Immediately upon entering the room Catra felt that this chamber had been constructed to find the truth, not decide whatever truth was most convenient.

There were three thrones in this room, the smallest and simplest looking chair elevated above most of the court was, according to Riko, the bench where the judge presided over the case. The other two larger and far grander thrones set even higher above the court, behind the Judges bench, were apparently for the King and Queen; the Queen’s throne was set slightly higher and more ornate than the Kings, to symbolise her seniority. Riko had said their presence in the room was largely symbolic, as the Queen was ultimately responsible for all law in Halfmoon, therefore usually the thrones were both empty. It was there as a reminder of Royal authority and everyone’s duty to uphold the Queens law. That particular bit of furniture was the only thing that had a whiff of the way the Horde conducted things. Though by design, Catra could see that the symbolism was entirely different. These thrones demanded respect, yes, but not through fear as in the Horde. Also, unlike Hordak’s throne, they actually looked comfortable.

Catra had known when she’d signed on for all of this that this was going to be hard, like amputating gangrene infected fingers without aesthetic. Each admission of guilt in front of Adora was going to hurt and hurt bad, mostly because of her disappointingly late realisation that she really should have taken Adora’s hand at Thaymor. Hell if she’d not listened to that batshit crazy hologram that time in the Crystal Castle it probably wouldn’t have been too late either. In fact there had been so many missed opportunities for her to do the right thing and Catra, so blinded by her misplaced anger and grief, had ignored them all. She had listened to Shadow Weaver, her own stupid fucked up brain and ignored every offered hand willing to pull her out of the muck, from both Adora and Scorpia.

Scorpia. There’s another person who’d she’d wronged. She’d hissed, spit and clawed at a women whose only real crime was being nice to her and offering a fucking hug. Catra knew she really shouldn’t have been surprised that the Scorpioni had left. She’d hardly made it easy for the kind hearted woman. How she’d survived this long in the Horde with a personality like that Catra didn’t know. Regardless, Scorpia was another regret Catra knew she was going to have to face. She knew that her friend had probably joined the rebellion. With Entrapter likely dead on Beast Island, there wasn’t really anywhere else the ex-force Captain could go. Maybe she returned to the crimson waste? Catra felt that unlikely. She got the distinct impression that Scorpia would only have stayed there if Catra had gone with her. An impossibility until only a few days ago.

Much to her surprise, after hearing her full story Riko hadn’t dropped her case as if it were radioactive. Instead he had gone out of his way to make Catra as comfortable as possible, making sure that she was finally presented with a fresh set of clothes to replace the ragged remains of her old uniform. Apparently she should have been providing fresh clothes the day she’d arrived, but Riko had aired his suspicion loudly and disapprovingly to the cell block around them that her guards had purposefully dragged their feet in doing so due to her previous allegiance.

Catra hadn’t really noticed the apparently may small slights to her person. The HPD’s jail was a five star hotel compared to the Horde’s cellblock. She had a mattress, a window and an actual flushing toilet complete with a basin to wash herself in. Compare that to being stripped down to your underwear and tossed into a cold, filthy, unlit, and windowless room with only a rusty bucket that got emptied every other day if your guards remembered.

Riko also ensured she was fed properly, not that her guards were slacking that much, everything she had been given thus far was far better than the protein bars that were basic horde rations, let alone the non-existent prison rations not supplied to her in the Hordes prison. But when he’d first visited during meal time and noticed the “slop that he wouldn’t feed to a farm animal” he’d made sure to bring homemade sandwiches and other such meals to their daily court preparation meetings.

Unlike Adora, Catra had never been so much of a square to not sneak out for contraband food items when she could get hold of them, but those tastes of better things had been few and far between and there usually hadn’t been time to actually pick something she might like. It was more of a ‘grab whatever she could find and be back in bed before Shadow Weaver discovered she was gone and therefore not in lightning range’ kind of situation. Riko had almost died of shock when Catra had informed him about how inexperienced her palette was, from then on making it his mission to treat Catra to as many Halfmoon delicacies as he could think of. Thanks to him, Catra now had a taste for all things fish related, her favourites being tuna and above all else the exquisiteness that was cooked salmon.

“Brightmoon is sending a delegation.” Said Riko, after he’d handed over a new fish pie of his own creation for her to try, quickly stepping back so as not to lose a finger as Catra greedily began hawking it down with reckless abandon. He wasn’t an amazing cook apparently, but given that Catra had never had fish pie before, he didn’t need to be. Regardless it still tasted amazing to the girl.

Catra froze mid bite, the pastry of the pie coating her fingers as she’d abandoned cutlery the moment she’d smelled the fishy goodness within. She’d known this was coming, both the prosecution and the defence needed witnesses, and Brightmoon could provide all they needed. But that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. Now, there was a countdown to when she was going to see Adora again.

“When?” She asked nervously, after swallowing her mouthful of pie.

“They will apparently arrive tomorrow morning.”

“That was fast.” She muttered, staring at the demolished dish in front of her, she suddenly felt herself lose her appetite. She didn’t deserve pie.

“Well apparently their Queen is able to teleport, so in theory they could’ve have come today, but apparently they needed time to prepare Brightmoon’s defences for their absence.”

Catra stiffened at the reminder that Glimmer was now Queen of Brightmoon and not Angella. She’d forgotten that regicide was also on her rap sheet, though apparently she couldn’t be charged for that particular crime in Halfmoon as Angella was a foreign monarch and therefore not a citizen covered by Magicat law. She could however be charged for reckless endangerment for the Portal incident as a whole, given that all of Etheria had been at risk from that particular stunt, which unfortunately included Halfmoon. She also wasn’t immune from extradition to Brightmoon should Queen Sparkles decide that she wanted to take her pound of flesh for the death of her mother. Catra very much doubted that a Brightmoon jury wouldn’t recommend she be hung from the Moonstone tower inside of five minutes for murdering their beloved Queen.

“They’ll be here in time for your indictment tomorrow afternoon, so be prepared for them to be in audience gallery.” Continued Riko, indicating upwards towards the viewing gallery suspended around the edges of the courtroom. Catra could tell he was watching her reaction to this news carefully. She hadn’t given him the full story regarding Adora, partly because she believed her feelings towards the blonde were irrelevant in the face of her crimes. Mostly however she didn’t want all her dirty laundry to be aired out in front of an audience and for it to be revealed she’d done all these heinous things because of an unrequited crush.

She knew Riko was far from stupid and she’d mentioned Adora far too much in her exhaustive explanation of her past with the Horde to be able to brush the blonde off as a mere acquaintance. She was going to have to be careful or it will become obviously clear that she was so love-struck by her ex best friend, that being abandoned by her had caused her to literally wage war out of spite and grief. If she was going to be hanged, she sure as hell didn’t want that written on her gravestone. Here lies Catra Applesauce Meow Meow, if abandonment issues were a person it would be she!

Riko groaned tiredly as he traipsed into the living room of his apartment, dropping his briefcase and pitching forward onto the sofa where Prima was currently curled up reading a book. The striped Magicat squawked indignantly as he disturbed her peaceful reading by laying limply on top of her with a contented sigh.

“What the fuck, Riko?” Huffed Prima, struggling to keep the fondness out of her voice as she squirmed underneath him, trying to regain the comfortable position her boyfriend had just disturbed. “I was just nodding off, you fat moggy!”

“I am not fat,” grunted Riko, burrowing slightly into Prima’s stomach to get comfortable. It had been a long day and Catra’s case was weighing heavily on him. The young Magicat had suffered through so much tragedy, more than most experienced in several lifetimes. He felt honour bound to lessen as much of her burden as he could, even if it turned out to be a drop in the ocean despite his best efforts. “I’m just aerodynamic!”

“Hmm, I don’t think that’s correct you know… then again science was never your strong suit at school was it?”

“No that was… that was Mira’s speciality,” replied Riko, his smile dimming slightly as he recalled his former wife.

“I remember,” murmured Prima quietly, reaching down to scratch Riko behind his ear, a sad smile on her face. “She was quite the chemistry wiz, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, she was always correcting my homework for me,” snorted Riko, his eyes fluttering closed as Prima’s fingers carded through his fur. “She always used to say that ‘I was never right, but I could argue until she thought I was’!”

“She wasn’t wrong,” chuckled Prima, dropping her head back onto the sofa arm before changing the subject. “Though I think Miko has inherited that particular trait and combined it with her mother’s smarts.”

“Oh, what has that daughter of mine done now?”

“Nothing bad, so you can stow the worried father routine!”

“Ok, now I’m actually worried! I know your definition of ‘bad’, Prima Tailfinder, and it very often differs greatly from the one in the dictionary.”

Prima Snorted, playfully punching Riko in the shoulder and shooting him an amused smile. “You and your ‘definitions’; it’s like you swallowed a law book as a toddler instead of crayons like the rest of us!”

“I fail to see how that’s a bad thing?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Prima, what did my daughter do?”

“More like who did your daughter ‘do’.”

Riko was suddenly far more alert, jerking his head up from Prima’s stomach so fast that he accidently unbalanced himself and fell off the sofa, bouncing painfully onto the floor. “What!?”

“It was actually kind of impressive,” snickered Prima, clearly bemused by Riko’s discombobulated state. “I walked into her room, without knocking which is my bad, and there they were, going at it like rabbits! But that’s not the best part-.”

“The best part?!” Wheezed Riko, slightly winded from his fall and trying to come to terms with the fact that his daughter, his kitten, his beautiful baby girl, was sexually active??

“Yeah, the best part is that without missing a beat Miko just launches into this explanation that ‘it’s not what it looks like’, which by the way it absolutely was; rattling off this steaming pile of bull that she and this girl she’s on top of-.”

“Girl?”

“-keep up, grandpa! –this girl she’s on top of are actually just doing ‘naked yoga’ at one-thirty in the morning! But the kicker is she was so convincing that I nearly swallowed it! She talked so fast and sold it so well that I was almost like; yeah, naked yoga’s probably a thing? Like, what the hell do I know about the trends with kids these days? She even showed me pamphlets to back up her argument!”

Riko made a somewhat strangled noise, his mind whirling from this revelation, unable to form a full sentence in the face of this bombshell.

“Oh calm down you walking stereotype; she’s nineteen years old and perfectly capable of doing whatever and whomever she likes!” Laughed Prima, patting Riko on the cheek consolingly. “Surely you’ve seen this coming?”

“Well, yes. I’m not an idiot, I just- I just thought I had more time, you know?” He sighed dejectedly, lying on his back on the plush carpet.

“Oh honey, I know; however I doubt that this was the first time,” explained Prima good-naturedly, sending her lover a somewhat pitying look. “Fathers tend to be the last to know about this sort of thing.”

“She- she’s just so young, though?” Mumbled Riko, pushing himself up on the floor to lean with his back against the sofa’s frame, looking a bit shell shocked. “It still feels like it was only yesterday that I was bouncing her on my knee and playing with her toys!”

“I think you’ll find that was me, love!” Snickered Prima, sitting up to bracket her legs either side of Riko’s shoulders as he suddenly flushed red underneath his fur.

“Oh hush you, you’re incorrigible!” He huffed, smacking Prima’s calf as he willed down his fluster.

“I do try!”

Riko paused suddenly, his brow creasing in thought as something occurred to him, causing Prima’s flirtatious expression to drop into one of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Catra’s roughly the same age as Miko.” He said eventually after a long silence.

Prima sighed and dropped her head down to rest her chin between Riko’s ears, chewing her lip thoughtfully before she replied. “She reminds you of Miko, doesn’t she?”

“Not really, actually. They are nothing alike, thank the stars. But even so, I cannot help but think…”

“-‘There but for the grace of the Gods’.” Finished Prima, nodding understandingly.

“She’s like a beaten animal, Prima; flinching whenever I make a quick movement or hears an unexpected noise. I haven’t gotten too close to see many of them, but the medical examiner who revived her after they pulled her from that stream logged hundreds of old scars; many of which they said likely indicated abuse rather than battle damage! It’s part of the reason they thought she was some lowly cadet rather than a front line soldier; because they couldn’t believe that even the Horde would treat one of their warriors so badly!”

“Did Catra tell you about them?”

“Not directly, though she has hinted at it. Probably doesn’t want to appear weak or foolish for fighting for the Horde even after what they did to her,” shrugged Riko, his eye’s glazed over in thought. “My gut tells me that whatever happened was awful. It reminds me too much about that orphanage case; the one where the principle locked all the misbehaving students it a cabinet full of spikes and broken glass....”

“Ah, the Matilda case, I remember. That was a nasty business.”

“Some of those children had the same scars, Prima. Though not nearly as many, which is horrifying.”

“Do you think that justifies all that Catra has done?” Asked Prima quietly, leaning around him to look him in the eye.

“Probably not, but I think it is necessary for context. I do believe she has suffered more than many do in their entire lives, and that it is our duty to not simply just look away and hang her to make ourselves feel better. She has made a lot of mistakes, but Halfmoon and her people have failed her by letting her fall into the hands of the Horde; so the bear minimum we can do is hear her whole story and then judge her for it. If it were my daughter, my Miko, in her place then I would hope that she was at least treated fairly in that regard. It might be one of the only kindnesses Catra ever receives from her own people.”

Riko glanced up at Prima after finishing his little speech, expecting to be met with mild disapproval, however instead he was surprised to find his companion staring down at him with such an open look of fondness that he was forced to look away to hide his blush.

“Never change, Riko Southpaw,” whispered Prima softly into his hear, her tone layered with affection.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he huffed slightly, leaning into Prima’s legs earning himself another soft smile.

“So, am I to assume that you want to build a character case; using Catra’s… experiences in the Horde to temper the jury’s judgement so that they hand down a recommendation for mercy?”

“I doubt that I can get her acquitted, in fact I’m not even sure Catra wants to be let off the hook completely; she’s got something of a martyr complex,” he surmised, thinking out loud. “But I do wish for her to escape the noose. That I am confident she doesn’t deserve.”

“Well if Catra isn’t going to confirm the abuse for you, then you’re going to have to find another witness to support your arguments.”

“Yeah, that’s where my current strategy falls apart,” Snorted Riko, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I can hardly petition the Horde for witnesses can I?”

“Actually, you can… sort of.”

“What do you mean?” Demanded Riko, twisting around to look up at Prima incredulously.

“Well, it turns out that the Princess alliance has somewhat of a glut of Horde defectors, three actually. They are bringing two of them with the delegation that arrives tomorrow. I didn’t interact with them much when I went to Brightmoon, so I don’t know how helpful they could be, but they might be able to support your argument. Assuming they don’t want Catra dead of course.”

“I love you!” Exclaimed Riko happily, leaning up to peck Prima on the cheek before scrambling up to go and prepare for an interview. Eye-witness testimony from within the Horde could be invaluable, though the interviews would have to wait until after tomorrows indictment.

“Don’t thank me just yet, Damien also knows they’re coming and they may just make the prosecution’s case for him for all we know; so don’t get your hopes up too high, ok?”

“I will be the paragon of caution!” Shouted Riko, already halfway to his office before he stopped at the sound of the front door opening.

“Hi Dad! Hi Pri!” Shouted Miko, waltzing in with her book bag slung over her shoulder. Prima waved at the younger white furred Magicat with a smile, not bothering to get up from the comfort of the sofa.

“Hi, Kitten! How was university?” Smiled Riko, his work forgotten momentarily in favour of his daughter as he made his way over to hug her. However he stopped short when he realised that Miko wasn’t alone, pulling another girl in behind her by the hand. “Oh, is that Bethany! How are you?”

“Y-yes, Mr Southpaw!” Stammered the other Magicat girl, suddenly dropping Miko’s hand as if it was on fire. Bethany was Miko’s new study partner, having met Riko’s daughter as part of their Magicat Modern History course. She was a full head taller than Miko, with brown fur stretched over a well-built frame; however despite her imposing stature she had the confidence of a mouse, and always seemed to stutter and stumble whenever in Riko’s presence. “I’m all good t-thanks!

“Well you are always welcome in my home, especially given how much my Kittens grades have improved since you started coming over! Make yourself at home.”

“Yes. We’ve been studying hard all week.” Said Miko flatly, ignoring Prima’s sudden coughing fit over in the living room. Bethany now also seemed to find Riko’s ceiling incredibly interesting for some reason, turning beat red under her fur. “Speaking of which, we need to go ‘study’ some more, sooo….”

“Oh, of course! I won’t keep you two any longer, better let you get to work. Got to keep pumping those grades up, eyy girls?”

Miko and Bethany shared a slightly disturbed look before both slowly nodding and beginning to make their way towards Miko’s room. Riko beamed at them both as they rushed off down the corridor, though he frowned when he glanced over to see Prima had buried her face into pillow, which was now shaking for some reason.

“Thank-you, Mr Southpaw. It’s nice to see you again!” Called Bethany from the doorway to Miko’s room, giving him an awkward wave before Miko’s hand shot out from within the doorframe and yanked the taller Magicat inside by the collar of her shirt.

“Such a polite girl,” Sighed Riko happily as his daughter’s bedroom door slammed loudly behind them both. However his smile was quickly wiped from his face when he turned back to Prima who had now dropped the pillow and was staring at him with a very pointed look.

Frowning, Riko spent the next thirty seconds switching his gaze between his daughter’s bedroom door and Prima’s barely concealed mirth. Suddenly, realisation dawned on him and he let out a shocked gasp before pointing at Miko’s door with an accusatory finger. “Bethany?!”

“Ah, there’s that ivy league education kicking in!” Snickered Prima, standing and walking over to place a consoling hand on Riko’s shoulder.

“But- she is such a nice girl!?” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly, unsure what to do with his hands.

“Still is, dummy. Though, not that it matters, I don’t think Bethany is the one leading anyone astray here, darling.”

“I- err… should I go stop them?”

“Oh honey, no!” Chuckled Prima, steering a shell shocked Riko by the shoulders back to the sofa and pushing him to sit down, joining him on the sofa and throwing a consoling arm around his shoulders. “Like it or not, your daughters an adult now. So you’re going to sit here with me, turn the volume way up on the television, and pretend that your daughter isn’t defiling Bethany in the other room, ok?”

Riko opened his mouth to respond but he was cut off by a muffled squeak followed by a girlish giggle emanating from the direction of Miko’s room. He snapped his jaw with a click, shooting Prima a pleading look as he hurriedly flattened his white ears to side of his head with his hands.

“Or, alternatively, we could go out for dinner and get drunk?” Continued Prima, biting her lip as she stifled a laugh, only for it to rip out of her loudly when Riko all but bolted for the front door, tripping over his feet in his haste to escape his paternal nightmare.

Catra heard the courtroom long before she saw it. The bustling of a large number of people could be heard clearly from behind the heavy door of the prisoner’s entrance to the courtroom. Apparently Riko had been correct in his prediction that there would be a high turnout for folks wishing to get their first real glimpse of the already infamous Magicat Horde soldier. He had warned her that things might get a bit unpleasant. Unsurprisingly there was a lot of bottled up resentment against the Horde in Halfmoon and he suspected that some may use the trial as an opportunity to vent it.

Catra didn’t particularly care what her fellow Magicat’s had to shout at her. She doubted that their barbed words would be any worse than what she’d had tossed her way daily whilst she was a member of the Horde. ‘Mongrel’, ‘half-breed’, ‘freak’, and every other expletive under the moons had been directed at her for as long as she could remember.

Shadow Weaver had of course been the one to coin most of them, though the rest of the Horde had eagerly followed her lead, even after she had deposed her old ‘guardian’ and taken her job. The names hadn’t stopped, instead they had merely gotten quieter. Muttered under their breath when they thought she couldn’t hear. Sometimes her superior feline hearing was a curse rather than a benefit. Nothing had ever seemed to stop it, except Adora that is. Her old friend had acted as a shield for her as much as she could, against Shadow Weaver and the others. It was part of the reason why Adora abandoning her had hurt so much; all of a sudden there’d been this weird magic sword and the next moment Adora was gone, leaving Catra alone and exposed.

Catra felt herself slipping into her familiar mask of belligerence and apathy, her tried and true defence tactic against verbal abuse. Adora had always told her to ignore it when harsh words were flung her way, saying that they were trying to get a rise out of her by calling her ‘kitten’ or a ‘stray’. She had tried her best, once, but her fear had always been that if anyone believed her to be weak they would come for her, attacking her once they realised that she was a runt too feeble to fight them off.

That fear had driven her to lash out, claw and bite at any threat that came too close. That was how Octavia had lost an eye, not because Catra was a “hateful and violent vile beast” as Shadow Weaver had called her after the incident, but because the larger and older woman had been a threat. Octavia had made her intentions clear when she’d cornered Catra one evening to “teach her a lesson”. So Catra had reacted accordingly, pre-emptively attacking before Octavia could use her superior weight and strength to beat down on a mere child.

Despite Shadow Weavers brutal lightning heavy punishment for “beastly behaviour”, Catra’s actions had the desired effect. For a long while after Octavia’s eye had rolled along that dingy supply closets floor, the bully’s had left her alone. They too fearing being blinded by the vicious looking cat girl who always responded to every insult with confrontation, claws out and threatening violence. Little did they know that fear was her only real defence. Catra had always been acutely aware that if someone big enough and strong enough got a hold of her there was very little she could do about it. She was smart, fast, and had razor sharp instincts. But in terms of raw strength she had always been lacking; that had therefore always been Adora’s department and one of the reasons why the blonde had made her feel so safe.

“It’s time Catra.” Whispered Riko in her ear, giving her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Catra took a deep steadying breath, trying to claw back her defensive posture and arrange her face in a less murderous expression. She hoped she was successful, but the lack of a mirror in this antechamber made it hard to tell. “As I’ll ever be I guess.” She stated, giving what she hoped was a small smile rather than an angry grimace.

“Ok. Remember, keep your mouth shut during the indictment. Only speak when spoken too.” Reiterated Riko, watching her closely to be sure that she understood. When Catra nodded in response her gave her a thin smile and stood up straight and adjusted his robes.

Apparently there was a whole uniform for those practicing as lawyers in Halfmoon. Catra had burst out laughing when she’d first seen Riko wearing his court robes, the whole outfit made him look ridiculous. A black flowing gown that finished at the ankles hung from his shoulders, revealing white stirrup stockings covering his calves and gartered below the knee. Around his neck he wore a tight white starched collar that matched his fur. The cherry on top for Catra was the white powdered wig that was balanced on her attorney’s head, complete with holes for his ears to thread through. Once Catra had finished laughing he’d hotly explained that this was standard courtroom attire for Halfmoon and that the prosecutor and the judge would be wearing similar outfits, which just caused Catra to have another fit of giggles.

Riko had been right about how hostile the courtroom might be. As soon as the large oak doors in front of her opened, Catra was hit by a wall of noise. The court was packed, the audience gallery groaning under the weight of seemingly all of Halfmoon who had come to vent their spleen at the former Horde Commander.

“Traitor!”

“Horde Scum!”

“Murderer!”

As Riko led her down the aisle towards the dock, a slightly raised platform where her chair was situated next to her attorneys, Catra did her best to not react. Not wanting her instinct to return fire with both barrels to hurt her chances, especially not in front of Adora.

It took a moment for Catra’s single working eye (she’d taken quite the knock and contracted a minor infection, so her blue eye had yet to heal up enough to open yet) to find the tell-tale blonde hair poof in amongst the baying crowd, though once she had found it near to a familiarly sparkly pastel figure amongst a colourful cluster of what Catra guessed to be a decent chunk of the Princess Alliance, she determinedly made a point to not look in that direction. She wasn’t sure if she could take seeing her old friend again. Especially if she saw that cold look of hatred that Adora had given her after the portal had been closed again. The look that had signified the last shred of hope for them ever reconciling evaporating.

Riko directed her into her seat and began ordering his papers, appearing unruffled by the calamitous court around them, despite some of the insults being tossed around the room being directed at him.

“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He whispered in her ear airily, apparently forgetting that Catra had been in a war zone before this. She didn’t need his reassurance. Though the sentiment was appreciated, a lot of people seemed to hate her right now. She’d always assumed as much, that there was a long line of folks waiting for the opportunity to show what they really thought of her. Seeing it however was very different from imagining it; and the fact these were her actually own people hurling abuse at her, hurt more than Catra had expected.

“Y-yeah…” Nodded Catra, unsure how to respond in the face of the barely restrained hostility present in the room.

She was in no danger, the court was well guarded by what Catra had to assume was half the HPD, with almost as many officers as there were spectators flanking the room. To bolster her nerves, Catra chose to believe that the guards were there to protect the crowd from her, not the other way around.

To her and Riko’s left, Catra could see the prosecution. Led by a man that Catra recognised from Riko’s description to be “a tool called Damien,” who was apparently her attorney’s girlfriend’s ex-husband. Apparently the Halfmoon legal system was just as incestuous as her old Horde barracks, Adora and Catra herself excluded of course. Adora had been far too oblivious to notice anyone propositioning her and Catra had been so besotted with the blonde than even considering anyone else had been unthinkable.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Damien giving Riko a smug smirk, probably in an attempt to ruffle his opponent. Before Riko could respond, Catra whipped her head round and gave the man a flash of her best deranged smile before quickly switching back to her expression of stone faced apathy. Clearly her reputation preceded her, so she was rewarded by the prosecutor’s face flickering with panic as he started backwards in fear. After quickly realising she had been screwing with him, he scowled and turned back to his own paperwork.

When she caught Riko’s eye afterwards, she found him giving her a look of mild reproach that was slightly undercut by the upward twitching of the corners of his mouth.

Suddenly a set of doors to the left of the judge’s chair began to creak open, prompting an officious looking Magicat seated below the judge’s bench to scramble to their feet and loudly address the court. “All rise, in the presence of her Majesties appointed representative, Judge Theodore D’redd!”

The whole courtroom suddenly went deathly silent, save for the rustling of clothes as everyone present rose to their feet, including Riko and (after an insistent tug on her arm) Catra.

A tall and imposing looking Magicat swept into the courtroom, resplendent in a set of crimson robes that made his already hefty frame seem all the more larger. Judge D’redd had grey fur, shrewd blue eyes and a face set in what appeared to be a near permanent scowl. Catra took note as he immediately commanded the room with his presence, the crowd’s energy subsiding somewhat in the presence of a man with such raw authority. It amused Catra to think about how much effort Hordak put into being the terrifying dread ruler of the Horde, whilst this Magicat wearing a circus tent and a wig held more gravitas and respect than that half crippled clone could ever dream of.

The judge paused before taking his seat, taking a moment to sweep his eyes around the courtroom. His gaze paused on where the Brightmoon contingent were sitting in the gallery above the court, giving Queen Glimmer a nod of respect before continuing. His eyes finally halted upon Catra, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Catra’s single gold one, seeming to look straight through her. Catra held his gaze, not one to ever back down from a challenge. D’redd cocked an amused eyebrow at this before huffing slightly and breaking away his attention as he took his seat, the whole courtroom following suit as he did so.

“Let’s get this indictment over with quickly gentlemen, with as little fuss as possible. I am not in the mood for either theatrics or useless word salad! Keep proceedings to the point and with no waffle, I have a dozen other cases to preside over today and I will not have this circus delay others due process, is that clear?” Growled D’redd, his sharp gaze settling on Damien in particular as he uttered his warning in a deep reverberating baritone voice that carried easily across the whole court.

“Yes of course, my lord.” Simpered Damien, giving a wide sycophantic smile to the judge who did not return it. Riko merely nodded in response.

“Excellent. In that case, we shall begin. This court hears the indictment of the Crown versus Catra…” The judge paused, his forehead creasing into a frown as he read the next line on the papers before him. “Mr Riko, I have become accustomed to your work usually being flawless, but surely this is a mistake?” He asked, turning to peer down at Riko who simply shrugged.

“That is the full designation my client provided, which has also been backed up by stolen Horde personnel files obtained by the princess rebels.” Coughed Riko, who had asked Catra repeatedly if the information she’d provided was correct.

Catra herself hadn’t intended for this particular titbit to be revealed at all, but had given up hoping that she could avoid ridicule once she realised that the rebellion would be providing all the intelligence they had on her.

“… of all the- alright, fine. Ahem. The court hears the indictment of the Crown versus- versus Catra Applesauce Meow-Meow.”

Catra had expected to be mortified in this moment, shrinking under the gleeful jeers of the surrounding Magicats, all roaring with laughter over her ridiculous last name. However, after D’redd’s booming voice finished uttering her name, Catra found herself struggling not to laugh as the court descended into shocked silence. Apparently the ten year wait for the payoff of that joke had been well worth it, the absurdity of the name clashing ludicrously against the intense severity of the situation she had found herself in. The judges completely serious delivery was just the icing on the cake.

The deafening silence was broken by a single familiar snort escaping from the gallery above the court, causing Catra to glance up in confusion. Her eyes immediately locked onto deep cerulean blues, crinkled at the edges as Adora stifled a laugh behind her hand. For a brief second Catra was transported back in time to when two ten year olds were given the ridiculous responsibility of filling out personnel forms without adult supervision; the day that Catra Applesauce Meow Meow and Adora Happysmile-Rainbow fist were born.

Catra was shocked that Adora had even acknowledged it, thinking that her former best friend would have locked the happier times of their lives in the Horde and forgotten about it. She wasn’t deserving of laughter from Adora’s mouth, only scorn. So why had the blonde laughed? Had Catra not burned every bridge between them with napalm at this point?

Adora suddenly seemed to remember where she was after a swift elbow to her ribs from an aghast looking Sparkles, who was looking to the blonde for confirmation, disbelief written across her face. When Adora bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing and nodded, Queen Glimmer practically exploded.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? This whole ti-!?” Shouted Glimmer, her shrill voice echoing around the courtroom as she jumped to her feet. However her conniption was quickly cut short by the sharp bang of the judge’s gavel.

“Queen Glimmer, whilst you are the honoured guest of her royal highnesses, I will not hesitate to eject you from my court if you interrupt these proceedings with another outburst!” Growled D’redd, scowling up at the gallery. Glimmer’s jaw snapped shut immediately as she went faintly pink at being called out so publically. Chastened she slowly retook her seat with as much dignity as she could muster, though she was clearly having great difficulty keeping her thoughts to herself, and was sending Adora several angry and very pointed looks that just screamed, ‘we’ll be talking about this later.’ It took nearly everything Catra had to not burst out laughing at Sparkles; having to bite her tongue so as not to damage her chances even further. Although she did note the hostility being directed Adora’s way from the pastel princess, a dramatic turnaround from when Catra had last seen the two interact. Back then they’d been united against Catra and practically joined at the hip, whereas now the two Princesses seemed to be sitting purposefully apart, using the arrow boy as a buffer. Perhaps there was trouble in paradise?

Judge D’redd harrumphed loudly and irritably returned to the matter at hand, glaring down at Damien and gesturing for proceedings to continue. “Please read the Crown’s charges if you please, Mr Smugmaw. Mr Southpaw, will enter his defendants plea to each charge!”

“Of course my lord,” simpered Damien, pulling out a piece of paper from the files on his desk and puffing out his chest in preparation. Riko merely stood casually next to Catra, patiently waiting for his turn to speak.

“The Crown wishes to charge the defendant with these crimes,” began Damien, clearing his throat loudly and projecting his overly officious tone around the room, clearly enjoying the limelight. “Resisting Arrest-.”

“The defendant pleads guilty.” A low hiss from the crowd follows Riko’s words, causing D’redd to bang his gavel grumpily and glare the audience into silence.

“Assault.”

“Guilty.”

“Assaulting an officer of the peace.”

“Guilty.”

Catra could feel the tension in the room rising with each plea. She could tell the crowd expected blood and given the current atmosphere of the room she was glad there were so many guards present in the courtroom to maintain order. They’d only dealt with the small fry charges so far, she didn’t particularly want to get lynched when they got to the big ticket items on the list.

“Assisting an enemy of the state.”

Riko paused before entering Catra plea for this charge. He’d wanted Catra to fight this one, as he argued that she could hardly be charged for assisting a state’s enemies if she did not know said state existed at the time. But Catra’s mind was made up, she had assisted the Horde and more, much to her great remorse. Accepting this charge bumped her prospective jail time from a few months to potentially over a decade, hence why Riko wished to fight it. But like Riko had said, Catra wanted to be charged with crimes she did commit, and she had definitely assisted the Horde for the better part of fifteen years, one way or another.

“Guilty,” he sighed eventually, his discontent seeping through fractionally. The whole room suddenly creaked, as the oak benches above them shifted under the weight of the restrained fury of the Magicat’s above Catra. She didn’t dare look up, not wishing to see that much hatred directed at her at once. Also, she might see Adora doing the same and that might just kill her.

“Espionage.”

“…not guilty.”

That one was the straw that broke the camel’s back, causing a roar of discontent to rip through the courtroom as it descended into chaos. The guards lining the guard rail of the gallery began having to beat back the baying hecklers as objects began flying down into the well below. Rotten fruit and vegetables, books, and even the odd brick came hurtling down in Catra’s direction. Fortunately no one in the crowd appeared to be a good shot and most of the missiles missed their mark, succeeding in only pelting the odd officer flanking the edge of the courtroom.

“SILENCE!” Roared D’redd, so loudly that it made Catra’s ears ring, his voice piercing through the melee like a knife through butter, silencing the shocked crowd instantly. The judge hadn’t even bothered to use his gavel, his mere presence seeming to cow the mob from his position at the centre of the room. Catra had to admit, she was impressed by the man’s lungs. She’d had Horde drill instructors less terrifying than this guy. “I will not have such a disgraceful display disrupt my courtroom! We are the Magicat’s of Halfmoon, not some mindless mob of feral beasts!” He snarled, glaring up at the gallery above him. “This court has stood for a thousand years as a symbol of true justice and fair punishment. This behaviour is unacceptable within these walls; I will have order or I will clear this courtroom. Behave or else we are no better than the Horde, where I am sure such displays of barbarism a commonplace!”

The Judge wasn’t wrong, though Catra did think he was being optimistic if he was assuming that trials were a regular occurrence. Hordak only ever really held them if he wanted to prove a point, or to really rub his ultimate authority in the face of those he was punishing as in Catra’s case. Oftentimes ‘justice’ in the Horde simply meant being put up against the nearest wall and shot without trial; a practice that Catra had tried to outlaw as second in command, thinking it counterproductive to the Horde’s already shaky morale.

Surprisingly the crowd actually seemed to look relatively guilty in response to the Judges chastisement, leading Catra to believe that such displays were not the norm. Which meant that this was all just for her, which wasn’t really a comforting thought. Though she suspected that this crowd had whipped themselves into a frenzy somewhat before her arrival, and now they’d collectively realised they’d gotten carried away. If she’d still been in the Horde’s courtroom she’d likely have been torn to pieces by now whilst Hordak simply looked on and laughed.

“Mr Smugmaw, please continue,” snapped D’redd, continuing to eyeball the crowd above aggressively.

Damien coughed, probably to cover for the fact he’d just climbed out from under his desk having immediately fled there whilst Riko and Catra had just stood their ground. “Yes of course, my Lord,” he simpered a little shakily, straightening his robes and righting his askew wig. “For the charge of Espionage, how do you plead?” Repeated the prosecutor for the benefit of the stenographer tapping away below the judge’s bench, Riko’s answer having been drowned out by the roaring crowd.

Riko repeated Catra’s answer, but this time the audience remained silent. Catra chanced a glance up towards the gallery, but quickly dragged her gaze back to the spot just above D’redds powdered wig having once again only caught Adora’s deep blue irises staring intently straight down at her. Catra blinked rapidly in confusion, not understanding why she thought she registered concern in her ex-best friend’s expression. That couldn’t be right? She quickly guessed it must have been a trick of the light, and resolved to not give into temptation again.

“Waging war against the state?”

“Not guilty” rattled off Riko qucikly, seeming to want to get this over with as much as Catra now.

“You are finally charged with the most serious charge that this court can hand down,” proclaimed Damien grandly, apparently having re-discovered his confidence, earning himself a barely restrained eye-roll from Riko. “That of treason; against her royal Majesty, and the people of Halfmoon. How do you plead?”

Riko gave Damien an irritated look, clearly disliking the fact that his opponent was playing up the seriousness of the situation for dramatic effect. In retaliation, he wasted no time or bluster with his response. “Not guilty.”

Once again there was silence in the court, to an almost deafening degree. As she awkwardly shifted in her seat Catra caught the gaze of the judge who appeared to be staring unnervingly straight through her.

“Catra-,” the judge grimaces before repeating her full name. “Catra Applesauce Meow Meow; you have pled guilty to four out of the seven charges levelled against you by the Crown. Of those remaining charges, two of which are the only two capital offenses remaining on the Magicat law books, for which you will be tried a week hence from now. If you are found guilty on either of these charges, you will be taken from this court to a place of execution and hanged from the neck until you are dead.” D’redd pauses, breaking his attention away from the now slightly shaken Catra to Damien, who for once actually looked somewhat sombre. “Has the prosecution offered any plea bargains in return for a guilty plea on these capital charges?”

“No, my Lord.”

D’redd looked faintly irritated by that, which Catra guessed was because of what Riko had told Catra earlier about Magicat laws precedence regarding capital crimes. No Magicat had apparently been executed in Halfmoon for nearly four hundred years, thanks to all such executions being commuted to life sentences thanks to plea bargains and royal pardons. The fact Catra hadn’t been offered one spoke to the level of resentment that the people of Halfmoon held against the Horde, and therefore her in particular. They wanted their pound of flesh.

Judge D’redd sighed unhappily, stroking his whiskers absently before returning his attention back to Catra. “Do you wish to say anything before we conclude today’s indictment proceedings? You of course can continue to uphold your right to remain silent if you do not wish to make comment.”

Riko glanced at Catra before opening his mouth to reply in the negative, however he stopped upon catching her expression. His worried look told her that he would likely prefer her to remain silent, but Catra had a bag full of apologies weighing heavy on her back. So she wanted to take the opportunity to make a start and make just one.

Standing, Catra swallowed hard as she felt the eyes of the whole courtroom descend upon her, making her fur prickle where it met her skin. Willing her voice to remain calm, Catra began to say her piece.

“I am Catra-,” she begins, before letting out a humourless huff at her own last names. “-Applesauce Meow Meow. Up until recently, a little more than over two weeks ago, I was second in command of the- the evil Horde. I have done many things, most of them bad, under that banner; enough to probably make me the monster that you all want me to be-.”

She paused, not really sure how to continue. Catra hadn’t planned on doing this, but she had felt something trying to claw its way out of her throat as she sat there under the gaze of her people. Under the multitude of watching feline faces that Catra had barely even hoped to dream of, having felt so alone in the Horde.

“I wish I wasn’t. By the stars I wish- I wish I had known, that I wasn’t alone, that I had a choice! None of this justifies anything, nor is this a poorly thought out excuse. But- but I am sorry. I am sorry for being the only Magicat Etheria has known for twenty years; that I am such a disgrace to your- m-my,” Catra’s voice cracks, “people. I can’t change any of it, but I am sorry. All I ask is that you judge me as I am, not who you believe me to be. I am more than bad enough anyway.”

Catra slumped back into her seat, overcome by a feeling of intense emptiness. Every word had felt like lancing gangrene from a wound, yanking out a darker part of her soul to display to the now silent courtroom. She’d not really said all that much, and there were a million other apologies in her bag, some of which weighed heavier than others. But, regardless of how wise it had been to speak, or whether her words had been heard, she surprisingly felt lighter. Maybe one day she could be free.

Chapter Text

“…this is absurd! You cannot be serious, sir!?” Exclaimed Riko angrily, gesturing angrily towards the pile of papers Sir Tao had just dumped on his desk.

“Oh do stop complaining, Riko!” Sighed Sir Tao, giving his subordinate a faux look of long suffering. “You know the rules, when you are assigned a case, even a so called ‘big one’, you must still work on the other cases assigned to you; no matter how much an ‘inconvenience’ I’m sure you find actually doing your job!”

Inwardly, Riko seethed. Whilst Sir Tao was correct in his statement, that rule had been written under the assumption that the public defender’s office was being managed properly, and not by an overblown windbag that couldn’t discern his arse from his elbow. “I am well aware, sir,” growled Riko, doing his best not to swipe his claws at the buffoon in front of him. “But given my current case load, I cannot effectively take on more cases and still give them proper due diligence. There must be someone else you can assign these cases too?”

Sir Tao tried and failed to not appear smug as he made a sweeping gesture at the large open plan office around them. “My deepest apologies, Riko, but you know how it is! This office is already understaffed, and regrettably there just isn’t anyone else for me to assign these cases to,” he simpered, his face a picture of glee poorly concealed behind an apologetic veneer of steaming bullshit.

The office around them did look empty, but that was because most of Riko’s ‘hard working’ colleagues had disappeared on their lunchbreak over an hour ago, and had yet to return. However there was still three other bodies present; two of which were asleep at their desks, both more than capable, if roused, at taking on this ridiculous pile of nonsense Sir Tao had just dumped on Riko’s desk. The third was actually the office assistant, Finn, who was busy working away on a case study that Riko had given him to write an essay on in preparation for his bar exam.

“So please be good lamb and be a team player! I’d do them myself but… I have ‘Royal’ business to attend to,” Sir Tao continued grandly, puffing out his chest and readjusting the newspaper tucked under his arm, turning on his heel and marching away in the direction of the restrooms. Why Sir Tao always referred to going to the shitter like that was beyond Riko, it was such an odd way to repeatedly remind everyone he had a thimbleful of royal blood. But given the amount of ‘Royal’ business the fool got up to on a daily basis, Riko would seriously recommend that Tao visit a doctor if it wasn’t for the fact that he dearly hoped that his superior would do them all a favour and die of dysentery.

Scowling at the balding patch of fur atop the back of Sir Tao’s retreating head, Riko picked up the first casefile on the pile unceremoniously dumped in front of him. It took him all of ten seconds of reading to surmise that this was a waste of his time; a bridesmaid from a hen party that had gotten a bit too wild was trying to fight paying the fine awarded for the vandalism charge she had been served for… drunkenly defecating on the roof of a HPD squad car.

Sighing heavily as he flicked through the pile of ridiculous cases Sir Tao had no doubt handpicked for him, Riko made a decision. He hated shunting work onto Finn, preferring to let the young lad study, especially considering that most in the office treated him as little more than an errand boy. But there was no way he could work both Catra’s case and these ones concurrently. “Finn!”

“Yes, Mr Southpaw?”

“Come here please, I have work for you,” he grumbled, beckoning over the young blonde furred Magicat who Sir Tao somehow failed to notice was wearing an unprofessional looking red bandanna in the workplace. Given that Sir Tao insisted on wearing his full royal dress uniform day to day, medals and all, Riko had long decided that Finn’s little expression of his personality was hardly the most egregious dress code violation in the public defender’s office. “I apologise for interrupting your studies, lad. But I simply do not have the time to work through all of these. So if you wouldn’t mind going through them all and writing me summaries that’d be a big help!”

“No problem, Mr Southpaw,” smiled Finn, taking one look at the first opened case file and snorting.

“Riko, please!” Waved off the older Magicat, giving his protégé a rueful smile. “Mr Southpaw makes me feel old.”

Finn, the cheeky bastard, gave Riko a look that clearly indicated he thought that Riko was old, before quickly snatching up the files on his boss’s desk and dashing for the safety of his own; the balled up piece of paper Riko grumpily threw in retaliation bouncing off the back of his snickering head as he went.

“Youths!” Muttered Riko sullenly, reconsidering his previous inclination to introduce Finn to his daughter. Admittedly, that plan had apparently been doomed to fail anyway considering recent revelations; although Bethany was hardly a step down from the enterprising Finn, being a promising academic student herself. In fact, Bethany actually respected her elders, unlike Finn who was getting cockier by the day. Though if he was referring to himself as an ‘elder’ then perhaps he really was as old and decrepit as that rapscallion was suggesting.

Riko didn’t feel old. He felt as limber and spry as the next Magicat… though his knees did creak more than they used to… and he did accidently throw his back out last month sneezing too hard; but that hardly meant he needed to be shipped off to the retirement home! Prima had certainly made no complaints about him ‘slowing down’ or anything. At least, as far as he could remember….

Riko’s sudden midlife crisis was cut short by a looming shadow suddenly blocking the light from the fixture above his desk. Blinking himself out of his thoughts, Riko glanced up from the papers on his desk before nearly shitting himself in fright. Standing tall above his desk was the largest and most threatening looking woman he had ever seen. A shock of white hair sat above dark and menacing black eyes that were staring down at him in a suspicious frown; which, complimented by the woman’s bulging muscles and terrifying red armoured exoskeleton complete with sharp looking pincers and stinger, made for quite the intimidating package.

Riko squawked in surprise and started backwards, accidently flailing out of his office chair in the process, crashing painfully onto his tail on the hardwood floor of the office, sending papers flying as he did so.

“Ooh gosh, I am so sorry!” Winced the woman, rushing around Riko’s desk to help him up, offering one of her pincers to lift him off of the ground. “I’m used to not being able to sneak up on Catra, so I kinda assumed that you all would be the same which now that I come to think about it was awfully insensitive for me to assume that all Magicat’s have the same level of senses but that’s me I guess, good ol’ Scorpia always putting my foot in my mouth you know, which why would you because you’ve never met me before today so why did I say that oh boy I’m babbling but I can’t seem to stop so please stop me before I say anything else insensitive or-.”

“It’s quite alright!” Interrupted a somewhat discombobulated Riko, blinking up at the woman for a moment before accepting the offered pincer. Scorpia sucked in a relieved lungful of air before hauling Riko off of the ground as if he weighed nothing, beaming a thousand watt smile that seemed oddly incongruous compared to the Scorpioni’s intimidating visage. “I’m not usually so… oblivious, you just took me be surprise is all.” He assured her, massaging the base of his tail as he huffed down at the scattered papers about his desk.

“Oh, that is a relief. Err- sorry about the papers, I’d help but these are not built for paperwork!” Smiled Scorpia brightly, waving a pincer in demonstration.

“Its fine, don’t worry,” sighed Riko, as he began reordering his papers back into the carefully curated organised chaos that was his desk. After he’d finished, he sat back down and regarded the large woman, who was still hovering over his desk uncomfortably. “Can I help you with something?”

“Hmm? OH! Yes, I’m supposed to meet a Riko Southpaw for an interview? The nice detective lady over at the police station said you’d like to talk to me about the Horde?” Exclaimed Scorpia loudly, causing one of Riko’s snoring colleagues to start awake in alarm.

“You’re one of the defectors?!” Replied Riko, surprise forcing his eyebrows skywards. Whilst he’d found Scorpia initially to be quite threatening in appearance, every word that had come out of the Scorpioni’s mouth since then had undercut that first impression significantly. Whereas Catra had initially appeared quite underwhelming until she had opened her mouth, Scorpia appeared to be quite the opposite; a hard exterior poorly concealing a heart of gold. Though he was certain that the larger woman could easily throw him clean across the room if she wanted.

Quickly realising how rude he had sounded, Riko opened his mouth to apologise but was cut off by a grouchy harrumph sounding from over Scorpia’s shoulder. “I apologise I didn’t mean to- you can go back to sleep, Frank! Unless you of course you want to actually do your job for a change!” He snapped hotly, leaning around Scorpia’s large form to glower at his co-worker. Frank, the incompetent oath, scowled back at Riko before closing his eyes and promptly falling straight back into a doze. Riko did often wonder if Tao was putting something in the coffee in the breakroom, considering the epidemic of narcolepsy apparently prevalent in this office. “Sorry, please, have a seat!”

“No it’s fine, I get that a lot,” shrugged Scorpia, taking one of the seats set opposite Riko’s desk, the chair creaking in protest under the big soldier’s weight. “I know I don’t exactly scream ‘Horde poster girl’, that was more Adora’s department before… well everything I guess. Wow, a lot has happened since then!”

“Then how did you become part of the Horde? If you don’t mind me asking of course!”

“Nah, I don’t mind. It’s not that interesting really, I just grew up there; like most kids in the Horde I just didn’t know anything else, you know?” Said Scorpia, her smile dimming a little. “I’ve spent a lot of my time since leaving coming to terms with how much they lied to us about everything to keep us in line. It makes me sad how much of it I swallowed, the lies about how my family gave up their kingdom ‘willingly’ to them, how proud I was to be a Force Captain and wave the flag for the Horde ‘liberators’-!”

“I’m sorry, Force Captain?!” Interrupted Riko, unable to keep the incredulity from his tone. The idea that this woman had been a Force Captain far more unbelievable than the fact she was a princess.

“I know, right!” Chuckled Scorpia humourlessly, her gaze dropping down to her pincers fidgeting in her lap, her exuberant smile completely deserting her now. “At the time I was so stoked, you know? Like, wow, they valued, trusted, and respected me enough to promote me! Now I- I realise that they only ‘valued’ me because I was strong, and ‘trusted’ me because I was too dumb to question orders,” she muttered dejectedly, tapping the side of her head with a pincer as if to prove it was hollow.

For the second time in his life, Riko felt the previously absurd urge to comfort a Horde soldier. Whilst Scorpia was no longer a member of the evil empires ranks, it was still an odd feeling after spending so much time cursing the Hordes name, often over far too many drinks in an attempt to dull the pain of his wife’s loss. Of course he couldn’t forgive the Horde as a whole, Hordak and those who perpetrated The Purge most definitely, but he now realised that many within the ranks of Hordak’s army were just as much victims of his mad grab for power as those in the Kingdoms he had ravaged.

Giving in to the urge, Riko reached across his desk and lay what he hoped was a comforting hand on one of Scorpia’s pincers, causing her gaze to snap up at him in surprise. “Their loss, I am sure.”

“Thankyou! That’s such a nice thing to say!” Exclaimed Scorpia brightly, her smile returning to full force, forgoing all pleasantries and pulling Riko into an impromptu bone crushing hug. “Everyone’s so much nicer outside the Horde, not at all like they’d said you all would be like! I mean, Princesses aren’t monsters, you don’t all eat babies-!”

“Scorpia- can’t breathe!”

“Oh oops, sorry!” Rushed out Scorpia, quickly letting Riko go and sheepishly returning to her chair. “I forget my own strength sometimes; gets me into all sorts of trouble.”

 Gasping air back into his aching lungs and wincing slightly for his probably now bruised ribs, Riko politely waved away Scorpia’s apology. Gingerly leaning back into his chair, as he regained his breath.

“So, whaddya want to know, Mr Southpaw? I’m not entirely sure what you do? Princess Perfuma told me that you are some kind of protector for Catra? Which is weird because she’s pretty good at ‘protecting’ herself, so she doesn’t like it when other people try?”

“I am her lawyer, her legal counsel who defends Catra during her trial.” Explained Riko, noting that Horde education seemed to be solely focussed on warfare given that both Scorpia and Catra needed a lot of basic things explaining to them.

“Oh, that thing that we all sat through yesterday?”

“Yes- well, actually no. That was just the indictment, which is sort of a preparation hearing for the trial- anyway, I’ve asked you here to see if you can answer some questions for me.” Began Riko, pulling out a fresh notepad from his desk draw and hunting around for his pen, lost somewhere amongst all the chaos of his desktop.

“Ok, fire away I guess?”

“You served with Catra in the Horde, yes?”

“Yes, sir! We served together for around two years, give or take a few months.” Replied Scorpia, a flash of sadness flickering behind her eyes at the mention of her fellow Horde soldier. Riko hoped that was due to their situation and not something directly Catra related. Catra herself had mentioned Scorpia, begrudgingly referring to the Scorpioni as a friend, a similar flash of sadness in her expression as she did so. She had skimped on the details but Riko had gotten the distinct impression that their relationship had not been plain sailing.

“If my timeline is correct that puts you at her side during the majority of her tenure as Hordak’s second in command?”

“Yeah, though I met her a little bit before she turned on Shadow Weaver, back when she was a Force Captain like me.” Nodded Scorpia, chewing her lip nervously.

“Could you tell me what working with her, or rather under Catra’s command, was like?”

“I- you want to help Catra, right?” Broke off Scorpia suddenly, looking pained.

Riko frowned, not liking where the conversation was heading. “It is my job and duty to help Catra to the best of my ability.”

“Then- then maybe ask a different question.” Whispered Scorpia, shrinking in her chair, her eyes pleading. “This… isn’t a nice story.”

“Even if what you have to say reflects poorly on Catra, I have to hear it. The prosecution will have to interview you as well, so I have to be able to anticipate their arguments so that I can counter them and prevent them from swaying the opinion of the jury.” Explained Riko, giving Scorpia a wan smile. Given the woman’s dubious expression he could tell he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. But hear it he must, so he squared his shoulders determinedly and poised his pen ready over his notepad.

Scorpia nodded, her face falling contemplative as she seemed to gather her thoughts for a few moments. “I’d never had a friend before I met Catra,” she began suddenly, her expression only a hair below anguish. “I knew the word, what its definition was in the dictionary, but I know now that I didn’t know what having a friend truly meant. Perfuma, one of the other Princesses - the first to actually truly welcome me into the Princess Alliance actually - told me that I have… a big heart, with a lot of love to give. She’s helped me a lot, talked me through all my confusion about what happened between me and Catra.”

Scorpia took a deep breath, her brow furrowed, clearly finding it difficult to choose her words to convey herself properly. Riko gave her an encouraging smile and waited patiently for the large Scorpioni to continue.

“I know now that, I gave a lot of myself to Catra for the wrong reasons, because I didn’t know that being friends was supposed to be a two way street, that friends aren’t supposed to just ‘tolerate’ you. Catra was a bad friend; she was harsh, unkind, and I barely ever got the time of day from her on a good day. Friends don’t say mean things to each other, or hiss and spit… hurtful things when they are offered hugs or affection.” Scorpia had a faraway look in her eyes, her mind clearly elsewhere when she spoke. “Though… I don’t think I ever met the real Catra. It hurts to say it now, but I think it’s true. I think I only ever knew her in pain. It’s another thing that Perfuma taught me, that people often lash out when they’re hurting, when they don’t know how to deal with the pain that’s… inside their head or their heart. I won’t lie, Catra wasn’t good when I knew her, but I want you to know before I tell you everything, that she isn’t a bad person. She’s done bad things - gosh, I’ve helped her do some of them - but she’s not the person everyone says she is. I know she’s in there, even if I never got to see it.”

Riko paused in his note-taking, meeting Scorpia’s pleading eyes as he considered what she had just told him. He believed her, he knew exactly what Scorpia was talking about. He’d seen the last vestiges of the Catra Scorpia knew crumble away before his eyes over the last few weeks. She was no longer the half feral girl who’d hissed and clawed at him whilst chained to the interview table, that Catra had started peeling away like a diseased second skin from the moment she had realised she wasn’t alone, that she was a Magicat rather than the unwanted ‘trash’ she had believed herself to be.

He had been right, he didn’t like what she had told him; in fact he quickly realised as Scorpia haltingly told him the whole story that the Scorpioni was probably going to be the prosecution’s star witness. The Catra she described was angry, spiteful, and wholly consumed with destruction and violence. No one had been safe from her descent into madness, friend or foe. The only modicum of useful information Scorpia had provided to him was that her testimony could clearly outline Catra’s declining mental state during her time as second in command, the emotional and mental stress of the job plainly taking its toll as Scorpia’s story progressed. Extenuating circumstance through mental instability, if packaged and sold the jury correctly. Though Riko doubted Catra would approve of such a defence. She believed herself to be fully culpable for her own actions. Hiding behind an insanity plea wasn’t something she’d even deign to consider.

Catra hadn’t pulled her punches when she’d told Riko her side of this story, but it was still quite another thing to hear it from a different perspective. To see the fear in Scorpia’s eyes when she described the events leading up to the portal, the banishment of Princess Entrapta to Beast Island, or the evident sorrow Scorpia felt when she eventually came to the conclusion that she couldn’t to continue to follow Catra down the path of destruction she had chosen.

It was heart wrenching stuff that in its entirety painted a picture of a Catra in a downward spiral of poorly concealed pain and misery that was destined to end with her own dramatic annihilation. It was clear to Riko that despite how she had been treated by Catra, Scorpia still believed that her ex-best friend needed help, not the noose. A shocking show of loyalty in the face of events. However Riko knew that once Damien heard this story, he’d take a hatchet to it and use what was left to depict Catra as the selfish monster everyone already believed her to be. Any argument or point that Riko made in Catra’s defence using Scorpia’s testimony would most likely be destroyed during cross examination. Unfortunately, whilst Damien was an arrogant fool, he wasn’t stupid. He’d have a field day once he heard Scorpia’s testimony.

“Thank you, Scorpia,” sighed Riko eventually, after the Scorpioni had finally fallen silent. He handed her another tissue from the box he’d produced for her to blow her nose and dab her eyes after she had begun silently crying about halfway through her tale. “We’re just about done I think, but I do have one final question.”

“Shoot!” Hiccupped Scorpia, her normally bubbly energy now somewhat subdued.

“You’ve told me what happened, in great detail. But, you never told me why?” He questioned with a frown. “I understand that asking for someone else’s motivations is a hard question to answer, but I was hoping that you might have some idea as to why she did all this? I’d ask Catra but it’s one of the few things she seems to be tight lipped about, even after everything. You survived the Horde without- without going fully off the deep end like she did, so what was it that started all this?”

“Oh that’s easy,” snorted Scorpia, looking exhausted. “Adora.”

“Adora?” Frowned Riko, shuffling through his notes quickly to find where he’d heard that name before. “The other Horde defector?”

“Oh boy, that’s the understatement of the century!” Grimaced Scorpia, rubbing her temple tiredly. “Adora is everything! It was always ‘Adora’ this, ‘Adora’ that! Could hardly get Catra to shut up about her sometimes. Now I’m not the smartest ration bar in the box, and it did take me a while to figure out, but even I could tell you that Catra’s got abandonment issues the size of… well, the size of something big! And it all leads back to Adora.” She finished before starting slightly and adding, “that and Shadow Weaver fanning the flames I guess. That woman is not nice.”

Riko hummed thoughtfully as he took in Scorpia’s words, scribbling the name Adora into the centre of his notepad and circling it three times for emphasis. He’d suspected that Catra had been omitting something rather large, and now he was starting to think that it might be suspiciously Adora shaped. He made a mental note to schedule a meeting with Adora and also ask Catra about her later, though he fully expected his client to stonewall this angle of inquiry, even if it was counterproductive to her defence.

Every client had at least one secret that they didn’t wish to tell a single soul, even if it might help their case. Said secret could mean the admission of another crime, or simply be humiliating or embarrassing; such as with one of Riko’s clients who’d actually had an ironclad alibi for the bank robbery they’d been framed for. But he had refrained from telling his attorney because it would mean admitting that he’d actually been on the other side of Halfmoon in a dominatrix’s basement, handcuffed to a table getting spanked with table tennis paddle, whilst wearing a sparkly fake tiara and a tutu. He’d rather risk serving ten years in prison because he hadn’t wanted to publically admit under oath, in front of his clueless wife, that he liked feeling of being tied up like ‘a naughty little princess kitten.’

After thanking Scorpia for her time and bidding her goodbye, Riko stared at the name now sitting prominently at the centre of his notepad, chewing on the end of his pen as he considered the possibilities.

Maybe this ‘Adora’ was the key… to everything.

Miko Southpaw thanked the food cart vendor after she was handed her post study reward snack, tucking away her purse as she moaned through the bite of heavenly street food. Battered fish on a stick was a treat she rarely sprung for given that her finances as a student rarely covered more than pasta or noodles seasoned with salt, but today had been a productive study session, one that had been sorely needed after slacking off in recent weeks. Bethany really was a good study partner, but recently her… friend had become a bit of a distracting presence.

It wasn’t Bethany’s fault, she had a heart of gold and every time she and Miko had met up it had been to actually study. But now that Miko had seen all the muscles the larger Magicat had hidden under her conservative cardigans and button ups, she found it difficult to keep her paws to herself and concentrate on her studies like she’d done before their relationship had turned physical. Sure, back then she had wasted a lot of time drooling over every flex of Bethany’s muscles, but every now and then she’d still managed to shake herself out of her slack jawed mooning and gotten some work done.

After finishing her meal, Miko tossed the now bare stick into a nearby trashcan and began making her way home. She was more than ready to curl up on the sofa with her dad or Prima and watch a movie until she fell asleep. Today had been a long day, and she felt like she deserved a nap. Crossing the large plaza that marked the centre of the Halfmoon University campus, Miko walked past the vast telescreen that stood at one end, normally used to display open air movies or live theatre productions put on by the Universities Drama students.

Like every telescreen these days, the Horde soldier’s trial was front and centre of the news broadcast being displayed, the Magicat in questions bandaged face blown up large by the camera as her single good eye stared towards a point somewhere off screen. Thus far the trial had been just another thing that was happening outside Miko’s little world, far too ensconced in her studies to really register what everybody else seemed so obsessed with. She was aware that her father was playing an integral role in the trial, conversation at the Southpaw family dinner table often drifted to the topic whenever Prima came over these days. However, with this year’s finals coming up Miko had been far too preoccupied to really listen; historical interpretations of god awful First One’s architecture and their weird scribbly language weren’t going to decipher themselves after all.

Still, it was strange to see her father’s face blown up on the big screen as well. She loved her father dearly, but she’d never regarded his work as all that important, certainly not enough to be on television. Miko understood what Riko’s job was, but only in the sense that it was just what her ‘Dad did’. Law, much to her father’s disappointment, had always bored the hell out of her. She understood its importance in an abstract sense, but only ever as a thing that other’s encountered if they broke it.

After she had exited the university’s campus, Miko began walking towards the East residential district. It was about a thirty minute walk to get home from the campus, a journey that Miko preferred to take over riding the omnibus that shuttled between Halfmoon’s various districts as it gave her the opportunity to stretch her legs after sitting down for too long in the stuffy university library.

However, about ten minutes into her walk, the fur on the back of Miko’s neck began to prickle. In a laughably unsubtle attempt to get on Miko’s good side during the early days of her and Riko’s relationship, Prima had given her self-defence lessons in the hope that it would endear her to her prospective daughter in-law (that last bit hadn’t happened yet, but Miko only considered it to be a matter of time as her father was disgustingly in love with the police officer). Miko hadn’t actually needed convincing, preferring Prima by far to her father’s previous ‘fling’, Carol (shudder). She’d still taken the lesson’s, as Miko wasn’t foolish enough to turn down free badassary classes, and she had wanted to give her Dad and the way cooler Prima as much encouragement as possible (Suck it Carol!). Right now however, Miko could hear her Dad’s girlfriend’s voice echoing in her head, “Trust your instincts!”

Glancing back, Miko immediately spotted three Magicat’s trailing behind her about thirty feet away. Normally, such a thing wouldn’t have bothered Miko, but today she felt that something was off. For one, she felt like she had passed these Magicat’s on the way out of the university campus, and furthermore they were all staring straight at her with poorly concealed looks of contempt.

Her heart beginning to beat a little faster, Miko turned away and quickened her pace, hoping that her mind was just playing tricks on her. Stealing another glance behind her however revealed that the group behind her had hastened to match her new speed, causing her to begin to panic slightly. Frantically thinking back to Prima’s training, Miko decided to make a sudden right turn, taking her onto a street that actually took her further from home. “If you think you are being followed, make four turns in the same direction. If you are being pursued, they will follow you despite going in a complete circle. Though make sure not to turn into any dead ends, quiet streets or alleys. Always stay in public where others can see you!”

Looking back once again, Miko spotted the three Magicat’s round the corner after her, still following behind. Beginning to sweat, Miko tried to remain calm as she quickly strode down what seemed to be an agonizingly long street, ignoring some of the side streets where she could have already turned as per Prima’s advice. Finding another road that she felt was wide enough to not trap her, Miko made another right turn, continuing on briskly ahead, and not looking back until she was halfway towards the next turning. Unfortunately, it was quite late in the day so the streets were far emptier than Miko would have liked, and there were no shopfronts open at this hour for her to duck into. Which started to become a real issue when she once again glanced back to find the three Magicat’s still behind her, though it appeared they had picked up the pace and closed some of the distance between them.

Three turns out of four. Miko was legitimately shaking now, desperately thinking back to what Prima had taught her. One more turn and she was definitely being followed, though at this point she felt she didn’t need the final confirmation. Deciding that she didn’t feel like waiting, Miko broke into a run, hoping to make the final turn and make a mad dash for home.

“If you are being followed, run. Don’t try to act normal or stand still; make a scene, attract attention, and above all else try and get to safety; whether that be a shop you recognise, a friend’s house, or a police station, just get there as fast as you can and try to avoid being cornered.”

A string of curses were suddenly shouted out from behind her followed by the clicks of multiple claws striking the pavement at speed. Her worst fears realised, Miko frantically dropped down onto all fours, something that she hadn’t done since she was at school running track. She quickly jettisoned her heavy book bag from her shoulder, unable to run like this with it impeding her movement, wincing at the sound of her expensive university textbooks bouncing off of the pavement.

Claws out and digging into the cool stone of the pavement, Miko skidded round the next corner at lightning speed, almost tumbling into the road in her desperation to stay ahead of her pursuers. Much to her relief however, at the other end of the street she spotted the white and green paintwork of a HPD squad car parked outside a convenience store, the tell-tale silhouette of an officer sat in the driver’s seat.

Making a beeline for the vehicle, Miko dashed across the road, ignoring the angry honks of a delivery driver who’d nearly driven over her in her haste to get to safety. Practically slamming into the side of the police car, Miko frantically knocked against the passenger side window to get the drivers attention.

A brown furred Magicat in a HPD uniform turned and frowned up at her, quickly rolling down the window and opening his mouth to ask what was wrong.

“H-help, I’m being c-chased!” She wheezed, gulping in air and inwardly cursing herself for not making more of an effort at the gym recently. She’d mostly just gone to ogle at Bethany’s muscles, so very little actual exercise had taken place.

“Ok, miss! Don’t worry your safe now,” assured the officer, leaning round Miko to glance behind her. Miko followed his gaze and immediately spotted the three Magicats who’d been following her standing at the far corner of the street staring right at them, breathing hard, their expressions unsure now that Miko had apparently reached safety. One of them was holding her discarded bag, held lazily by the strap and dragging it along the floor. “Ok, I see them. I’m going to call this in, ok? What’s your name?”

“M-Miko S-southpaw!” Gasped Miko, now well and truly shaking in the midst of a panic attack.

“Southpaw? Riko’s daughter?” Questioned the officer, his hand stilling on the cars radio receiver and his expression suddenly souring.

“Y-yeah?” Stuttered Miko, still staring over her shoulder, too panicked to catch the officers change in tone.

The officer stared at her for a few moments, long enough for Miko to send another frightened glance his way, only to see him wordlessly drop the radio receiver back into its cradle. “What are you doing?” She stammered, her eyes widening in shock at the sudden hostility blazing in the officers eyes.

Without saying another word, the officer smirked wickedly at Miko before pressing a button on the centre console of his vehicle causing the passenger window to roll up, forcing Miko to pull back her fingers to avoid them getting trapped. “Please! No- wait, don’t leave me!” She shouted in panic, banging desperately on the window as the officer started his car and pulled away, driving in the opposite direction of Miko’s pursuers.

Miko stared in horror as the police car disappeared round the next corner, abandoning her in the middle of the street. Suddenly feeling very alone, Miko shakily turned to look back at the three Magicat’s standing on the street corner behind her. The one holding Miko’s book bag smiled nastily at her across the street, before stepping off of the pavement towards her, dumping her bag carelessly as he cracked his knuckles menacingly. Miko swallowed hard as she tried to force herself to move again, her heart hammering in her chest as she desperately willed her fear frozen body into gear.

Adora had seen quite a few different cities during her time with the rebellion, her world opening up exponentially once she had found the sword of protection and defected from the Horde to join the rebellion.

Brightmoon, Salineas, the Kingdom of Snows, Mystacor; each new place a magnificent spectacle full of vibrancy and colour in ways that she’d never been able to even dream of back when she’d lived in the dank and dirty confines of the Fright Zone. Upon arriving in each of these new places, Adora had been unable to keep her jaw from scraping along the floor as she stared wide eyed at each new wonder she encountered.

However each of those arrivals had been tainted, the ever present shadow of the war against the Horde always tinging every gasp and smile she let out as she explored Etheria. Halfmoon was no different, though this time the personal hell that was her fractured relationship with Catra had been dragged to the fore.

It was always there, the ache of her loss, her grief at the heart wrenching shattering of her previous relationship with the Magicat. Adora carried that everywhere she went, feeling that most painful of wounds pull and stretch with every movement she made, always open, always festering with guilt and sorrow.

Finding out Halfmoon was still standing, even in its reduced capacity, should have been a great cause for celebration. The capture of the Horde’s second in command an added cherry on top of what should have felt like a significant victory. But as always, such things tasted sour to Adora.

She loved her friends, even with her relationship with Glimmer being as strained as it currently was, but the fact she couldn’t share any of this momentous discovery with Catra made everything ring hollow. Sure, the Magicat was here, and no longer in the Hordes clutches. But Adora would have done anything to have shared the discovery of the hidden Magicat nation with Catra by her side rather than in prison. Instead, as always, they were doomed to face each other from across the battle lines. Though, in this case the circumstances were slightly different.

This whole trial business made Adora’s head hurt. She kind of understood what was happening - Bow had tried to properly explain it to her – but combined with the fact that this all was nothing like the Horde trials Adora remembered being broadcast about the Fright Zone during her childhood, and that despite all its supposed fairness Catra’s outlook still didn’t look good, it was all starting to bring Adora out in hives.

Glimmer, unsurprisingly, didn’t understand Adora’s misgivings. Catra was her enemy, responsible for Angella’s death no less. How could Adora not want the Magicat’s head on a spike after all that she had done. Glimmer had naturally been trying to bully Adora into testifying against Catra ever since the Halfmoon delegation had shown up out of nowhere to inform them of the trial, but much to the Queen’s consternation Adora had refused. Citing her belief that Angella wouldn’t have wanted to have someone’s death on her conscience, even after death.

The argument that had sprung up after that response had been blazing, and had almost resulted in Adora quitting the Princess Alliance, not that she’d had the opportunity to voice that, even as a threat, thanks to Bow stepping in. But, even after everything that had happened, Adora still couldn’t bear the thought of doing anything that might further destroy her and Catra’s relationship, despite it being the smoking ruin that it was. She still hoped, beyond hope, that it was still salvageable, that somehow they might be able to reconcile. Her relationship with Catra felt fundamental to Adora, a part of her very soul. To simply cut it off like a diseased limb like Glimmer was forcefully suggesting was abhorrent to Adora. The fact that Adora had never been able to verbalise why she couldn’t do it had only served to infuriate Glimmer further. The answer “she’s Catra” unsurprisingly hadn’t been sufficient for the apoplectic Queen.

The only silver lining that Adora could distantly see about this mess was that their trip to Halfmoon had taken them away from Shadow Weaver, whose presence in Brightmoon had long turned the castle that had become her home into a place that made her skin crawl. A sensation that Adora had thought she’d left behind in the Fright Zone, but now seemed to have oozed back into her life like mould, spreading out from the shadowed corners of the previously almost grating bright kingdom.

Mercifully the Sorceress had been unable to attend because she didn’t know about the trial, about Halfmoon, or even Catra’s capture by her people. Thankfully the Princess Alliance had sided with Adora when she’d stated that the former horde commander couldn’t be trusted with the knowledge of Halfmoon’s existence, given the dubiousness of her loyalties. Glimmer had protested this, much to Adora’s ever increasing nausea, but had eventually conceded to the wider alliance when they’d all made their own points. Adora had felt that her own arguments should’ve been enough, but apparently Glimmer hadn’t been swayed until someone else – Mermista – had basically aired the same concerns only worded differently.

The fact that their relationship had deteriorated to this point, and so quickly, was heart wrenching to Adora, who didn’t understand how they’d gotten to where they were. The day that Shadow Weaver’s council had suddenly become more important to the queen than Adora’s had somehow gone by unnoticed, and now she was subjected to her old mentor’s presence more often than not in the adopted home she had in part fled to so that she could escape from the witch.

Adora had yet to enjoy the lack of the sorcerer’s presence however, as the frosty atmosphere surrounding what had once been the best friend squad had unfortunately followed them to Halfmoon, and had continued to foster arguments between her and Glimmer. This evening was no exception, and Adora had been forced to vacate the rooms that Queen Cyra had provided them in her palace to get some air, in an attempt to prevent herself from resorting to the Horde’s tried and tested way of settling arguments and punching Glimmer in the face. She’d probably have felt better for all of ten seconds, until her own guilt and Bow’s immense disappointment caught up with her and killed her on the spot.

After about an hour of wandering, during which Adora had long left the confines of the palace grounds and disappeared into the tangle of streets that comprised the city proper, she found herself stopping by a statue half hidden on one side of a quiet street, adorned with numerous ribbons, wreathes, and flowers. The statue was of a small kitten, made of beautifully carved polished marble, crouched on all fours as if about to pounce. Its small face was a mask of concentration, its stone eyes fixed on some imaginary item it was play hunting in the distance.

Staring up at the statue on its high plinth, Adora couldn’t help but be reminded of Catra. It was actually remarkably uncanny. From the exquisitely carved tiny unkempt ball of fluff that was the kittens mane right down to the playful weave of their tail sticking upwards towards the cavern. Swap the plinth for the filthy pipes and vents of the Fright Zone and it would almost be an exact replica of Catra when she’d been a kitten.

Adora gazed up at the statue for a few moments, her wandering stalled by the superb craftsmanship that brought out such a lifelike visage in cold stone. However she couldn’t hold her gaze for long, feeling it turn more longing with every second she stared. Blinking tears away, Adora dropped her eyes down to a brass plaque affixed at eye level on the stone plinth, trying to distract herself with the inscription.

“Princess Katriska”

“Gone but not forgotten”

“In memory of the lost children of the Great Purge.”

“Princess Katriska. Dimri D’venn. Jinn V’resh. Mirin Lightfoot. Ciri….”

Adora quickly stopped reading the inscription, unable to continue down the heartbreakingly long list of names as a single tear managed to escape her. Turning away from the statue, Adora shakily dropped down onto a nearby stone bench, careful not to disturb the numerous freshly laid bouquets that ringed the entire space that she suddenly felt that she was intruding on. She would’ve sprinted from the space, the guilt from all that time believing the Hordes bullshit urging her on, but she could neither see through the now free flowing tears nor run on her now weak legs.

She sat there for an indeterminate amount of time, her back ramrod straight, staring into space as tears continued to leak from her eyes and the weight of the sword of protection steadily feeling heavier and heavier on her back, the already substantial burden of She-Ra seeming more crushing as it always did whenever Adora was reminded of the cost of this war.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Catra’s name was on this memorial. Now, less a memorial of her death and more tombstone for the life she could have lived had the Horde not stolen her. All the pain and grief that could’ve been prevented had she stayed with her people. Catra would never have met Adora, but given how things have turned out… maybe that would’ve been for the best.

Suddenly, one of Halfmoon’s weird po-lice cars (?) careened around the corner before haring off into the distance, the sound of its revving engine shaking Adora out of her spiralling.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Adora gathered herself and stood up just in time to see a young female Magicat skid around the corner after the car waving her arms desperately and shouting panicked pleas as she tried futilely to keep pace with the speeding vehicle.

“WAIT, WAIT! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME-!” She screamed, before tripping on an uneven paving slab and crashing down hard onto the pavement, causing Adora to wince.

Adora was about to cross the road and go help, when three other Magicat’s skidded around the corner and quickly encircled the still recovering girl.

“Gotcha, girlie!” Cackled one gleefully, as they corralled the terrified girl into scrambling along the floor and up against a nearby wall, trapping her there. “Nowhere else to run now, traitor!”

“T-traitor?” Stammered the girl, confusion mixing with her panic.

“Yeah, your Southpaw’s little girl aint ya! He’s defending a traitor, which makes him one too!” Snarled one of the other Magicat’s, unsheathing her claws and taking a step towards the girl. “Your dad needs to learn the price of betraying his-.”

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Bellowed Adora, already having sprinted halfway across the streets with fury coursing through her veins. Three against one was not fair odds. That’s how the Horde did things, and Adora knew more than enough by now to know that if the Horde did it, it was pretty much always bad.

Startling, the three Magicat’s spun round to regard Adora as she screeched to a halt in front of them, her eyes somewhat feral as her anger burbled up like a supercharged volcano. Rationally, Adora knew that the best plan for this altercation was if she turned into She-Ra to scare these thugs away. No sense in fighting if there was no need. However, Adora realised in this moment that she really wanted to punch someone. She wanted to feel it too. Something about the last few months of tiptoeing about her friends as if they were all walking on eggshells, dealing with Shadow Weaver again, and all of this mess in Halfmoon had turned her into pressure vessel ready to blow in spectacular fashion. Right now, that meant she was really hoping that these idiots were stupid enough to try her on.

“Piss off human, this aint your business!” Snapped the first Magicat, a slightly cross eyed male with black fur who quickly stepping right into Adora’s face in a laughable attempt to get her to flinch back. It didn’t work, and they looked faintly dismayed when Adora didn’t even blink.

“It’s my business if you’re beating down on a defenceless girl, so step off or I’ll get violent,” stated Adora ‘calmly,’ her body feeling like a compressed spring. She was cocked and ready to go.

“Are you blind? There’s three of us and only one of you!” Sneered Cross Eyes, his lazy eye flicking belatedly up to the pommel of Adora’s sword sticking out over her shoulder. “Who do you think you are, Bitch, She-Ra? Leave now before you get hurt.”

Adora laughed in his face. “I don’t need to be She-Ra to wipe the floor with you fuckwits,” she snorted, looking him up and down, giving him and his friends an unimpressed look. She could tell they were untrained. Bullies that were either too scrawny or too fat to be a true threats, with maybe a handful of bar fights between them at best. She was a battle hardened former Horde soldier, she could turn these guys into paste in her sleep. She hoped they’d try her, she wanted to fight without magic, to actually feel it. “Now leave, before I decide I don’t wanna waste any more words.”

Adora saw the head-butt coming before Cross Eyes had even finished having the thought to do it, neatly ducking out of the way before bring up her knee to collide with his stomach and knocking the wind out of him. As he doubled over, Adora grabbing his flailing wrist and twisted harshly until there was a sickening crack that echoed around the empty street about them. Cross Eyes screamed in pain as Adora continued to use her momentum to toss him behind her and send him tumbling into the street in a heap.

Cross Eyes goons seemed to stutter into life after this and made to move to their comrade’s aid, only for one of them to be immediately laid out cold by Adora’s lightning quick fist to their face. The third and final Magicat had just about enough time to get one swipe in with her claws, which Adora avoided with ease – she’d fought Catra multiple times by this point, and these guys couldn’t hold a candle to Kyle let alone the Horde’s resident Magicat – before she swept her leg out and sent them plummeting down hard onto the pavement, finishing them off with a rib cracking kick to the chest.

Standing tall amongst the crumpled forms of her now groaning adversaries, Adora surveyed her work, though she wasn’t remotely satisfied. These guys hadn’t even managed to hit her once. They’d all taken a couple of hits at most to knock down and they’d not even tried to get back up again. The Horde Kindergarten sparing team would’ve eaten them for breakfast. Adora had hoped for the sting of pain, wanting to feel something other than the ever present sadness that seemed to follow her everywhere these days. Instead, she’d barely even bruised her knuckles.

“Pathetic,” she grunted, stepping on their prostrate bodies to cross over to the quaking young Magicat who was still plastered against the wall, staring up at Adora with wide eyes. She was probably in shock.

“Hey, miss? Are you alright?” Asked Adora, crouching down and opening her arms in a non-threatening gesture, just as the peel of sirens began to reach her ears. Someone who lived on this street must’ve called the authorities. Cross Eye’s scream had been loud.

“I- I- I don’t know,” stuttered the girl, shaking like a leaf.

“That’s alright,” soothed Adora, reaching out to pet the girl’s arm like she used to whenever Catra returned from a ‘session’ with Shadow Weaver. “You don’t look hurt, but I think you’re in shock. Can you copy my breathing?” She asked, carefully reaching out to take the Magicat’s trembling hand and place it on her chest as Adora began to count her own breathes. “In and out like this, ok? Can you copy me?”

The girl nodded, seeming to collect herself more and more with each gasping breath.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“M-Miko, Miko Southpaw.”

“What a lovely name, I’m Adora,” she smiled, squeezing Miko’s fingers. “You’re safe now, ok?

“T-thank you! Thank you so much! I- I-,” Sobbed Miko, suddenly lurching forward and burying herself into Adora’s arms.

“Oh- err, no problem, all in a day’s work I guess….”

“Why did you help me?” Gasped Miko, quivering intermittently in Adora’s arms.

Adora frowned at the question, not understanding why it had been asked. She had been here, so she’d helped, it was as simple as that. So she just settled on the answer she gave whenever anybody asked why she did what she did. It always seemed to satisfy most people.

“Oh, that’s easy. I’m She-Ra!”

Chapter Text

“So, as already mentioned, the charge of Espionage is going to be the easiest to defeat,” continued Riko tiredly, yawning as he tried to flip through the last of his notes that he wanted to run by Catra before going home. It was late and, in all honesty, Catra thought he looked like he needed a drink. Which really should be unsurprising; constantly discussing Catra’s tragic backstory will do that to you. It was a shame that alcohol was contraband in prison, as getting blasted and forgetting about things for a night sounded amazing right now. “I’m honestly surprised Damien even bothered to charge you with it. All it will really do is waste time as it’s so easy for us to disprove.”

“Yeah, the Horde is many things, but even Hordak isn’t dumb enough to send a spy to infiltrate somewhere still wearing their uniform,” snorted Catra, idly thinking about Double Trouble and her own disastrous attempt to get them to infiltrate the Princess Alliance. She probably should’ve seen that double cross coming, what with the shapeshifters name and all. “Although, they probably would beat up a soldier half to death as a plant; abandon them in the middle of the Whispering Woods to sell their story as part of a false flag operation… that’s definitely more the Horde’s style.”

Riko looked faintly appalled by this as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing as he did so due to the liquid having gone cold hours ago. “…I would suggest that you refrain from saying as much in court, Catra.”

“I’m not a false flag plant by the way,” shrugged Catra, flashing her fangs in a bored smile. “Just in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but thank you for clarifying,” replied Riko, rolling his eyes. He seemed to be getting more and more used to Catra’s particular brand of snark by the day. “Now our strategy for getting this charge thrown out is pretty simple-.”

Riko was cut off by a loud knock sounding through the interview room’s door, causing him to startle badly and nearly spill his coffee over his papers. Catra watched her attorney brilliantly manage to prevent the cup from dowsing his work by redirecting the cold liquid onto himself; a display that she was unable to stop herself from cackling at, earning herself an unamused glare from the lawyer.

“Damn and blast!” He cursed, patting his suit down hurriedly as if he could un-stain the grey fabric with mere friction alone. “This was my last clean pair of trousers for Stars sake!”

The knock rang out again, though this time it sounded slightly more urgent.

“For crying out- Yes?” Riko called irritably, giving up trying to dry himself and resolutely ignoring Catra’s giggling.

The interview room door opened and one of the HPD officers that had escorted Catra over from her cell leaned in, his face grim. “Riko, the Chief wants to speak to you.”

“Tell him that I’ll drop by his office once I’m done here,” grunted Riko, not looking up from his papers.

“She wants to speak to you now.”

Riko huffed irritably at his, but continued to make notes. “Then please remind the chief that I don’t work for her, and that I am currently with my client and therefore will not be available for at least another hour,” he retorted hotly, as Catra gaped at him from across the interview room desk.

Despite Shadow Weaver’s heavy insinuations that Catra was insubordinate in the extreme, aside from a few minor exceptions the Magicat was actually rather disciplined. She’d had to be, first and foremost because she was a soldier, and secondly because Shadow Weaver religiously watched her every move like a hawk for even the hint of an excuse to fry her. Before she’d finally usurped the sorceress and realised Hordak was actually just a whiny bitch who’d hid behind his machines, Catra wouldn’t have dared to be as dismissive of authority as Riko almost constantly seemed to be.

From what little Catra had overheard about the Halfmoon Police Departments Chief of Police, she didn’t think she was the kind to take such insubordination lightly. The fact that she was also a member of the royal family only served to make Riko’s actions seem all the more absurd. Even so, Catra couldn’t help the warm feeling that settled in her chest at the thought of Riko choosing to stay with her rather than listen to the order from the literal chief of police. Though she kept silent about that particular feeling, as she had no idea what it meant nor how to address it.

The officer sighed, though they looked unsurprised, apparently having expected this behaviour. “She said it’s urgent, Riko,” insisted the officer, clearly not about to back away.

Sighing heavily, Riko finally broke his attention away from his work. Giving Catra an apologetic look, he stood up, grumbling under his breath. “I’ll be back as quick as I can Catra,” he reassured as he headed towards the door. “However if this takes too long I’ll see you tomorrow when you go to the medical wing for your check up, alright?”

Catra nodded in agreement, unsure why a feeling of dread was slowly beginning to creep up her spine. Something about this felt off. It was certainly irregular, though she wasn’t confident enough in her instincts anymore to voice such a feeling.

Riko threw a quick smile towards her before allowing himself to be led from the room by the officer, the door shutting behind him with a click.

He didn’t come back.

Eventually, Catra was escorted back to her cell, her nerves steadily increasing as something coiling in her gut continued to hiss at her that something bad had happened. Riko had left his briefcase behind when he’d left, his papers strewn across the table ready for him to come back and resume where they’d left off. In the half an hour that Catra had waited for Riko to return, he hadn’t come back to retrieve his things.

The following day when Catra was escorted over to the prisons medical wing to check up on her slowly healing injuries, Riko didn’t make an appearance either. His lack of presence making her realise how much she gotten used to his dependability over the last few weeks, his absence seeming more and more glaring by the second.

“Don’t worry dear, it’ll just be a small scratch. Over before you’ve realised its happened,” chuckled the surprisingly motherly prison doctor, having mistaken Catra’s growing nerves for squeamishness, waving the tiny looking needle she was using to inject Catra with a whole host of immunisations. Apparently, the horde was really lacking in the inoculation department, which was a shock to absolutely no one.

“I- I’m not scared of needles!” Sputtered Catra indignantly, unable to let such an accusation stand despite her worries.

Adora had been the one with the phobia against needles, acting like a big baby whenever they came out in the Horde’s med bay. Catra would’ve found her squeamishness hilarious had it not been for the fact that Shadow Weaver always insisted on coddling her favourite protégé through it; holding her hand, stroking Adora’s hair and goddamn cooing at her the whole time, whilst Catra sat on another hospital bed being turned into a pincushion, repeatedly being stabbed by a half blind medic struggling to find her veins through her fur. At the time it had made Catra beyond jealous to see Adora receive affection like that, to the point where she’d often avoid her bunkmate for a few hours afterwards, to calm her hackles down and wisely avoid clawing the object of Shadow Weaver’s doting affections.

Although, now that she thought back, Adora had always seemed subdued after such sessions, rather than basking smugly in warm afterglow the attention she’d received from their supposed ‘guardian’. Catra had always assumed it was a reaction to whatever meds the Horde gave them or from blood loss if they’d been ordered to help replenish the Horde’s blood bank. But, now that Catra thought about those instances without the usual green tinted haze obfuscating events, that conclusion seemed… dubious. Maybe, Adora hadn’t been as open to the attention as she’d seemed. Maybe, Weaver’s grip on Adora had been just that little too tight, a little too insistent.

Maybe, Adora hadn’t been bothered by the needles.

Grimacing, Catra added that gut curdling realisation to the already far too large pile of post Horde insights she’d had since arriving in Halfmoon. She’d always assumed that she’d had it worse than everyone else back in the Horde, and whilst that might still be true to a degree, Catra wasn’t so sure anymore that everyone else’s time within the Horde’s ranks had been all that much better.

“Mhmm, of course you’re not, honey,” replied the doctor dubiously, as if she’d head all such protests before from her usual patients, most of whom were all likely hardened criminals.

“I’m serious, the Horde doesn’t even own needles that small!”

“My dear, this is the largest needle that should be used on sentient species. Anything larger is either for enemas or used by veterinarians on farm animals,” sniffed the doctor, giving Catra a disbelieving look.

Catra stared at the doctor for a long moment, running through her head all times when she’d received injections over the years. Come to think of it, all the needles Adora had been injected with had been a lot smaller.... what the absolute-ever-loving fuck!?

“Fucking hell! That lying bitch!? Why am I even surprised?” Exclaimed Catra, suddenly furious enough to make the guards standing behind her to inch forward in case she tried anything. The doctor didn’t seem all that scared however, merely raising an eyebrow at her patient. “Special ‘Hybrid’ needles my ass!”

If Catra’s opinion of Shadow Weaver could get any lower than where it was currently residing down in the seventh circle of hell, it would’ve punched its way through the multiverse to beat every possible version of the lying witch it could find. Shadow Weaver was absolutely petty enough to order that Catra receive the wrong needles for her injections, just to make her hurt that little bit more. The Woman made holding a grudge an art form. Catra only wished she knew why the sorcerer despised her so much, at least then she’d have a reason for all the suffering she’d endured over the years, even if that reason was a shitty one.

“Alright, let’s have a look at your eye,” breezed on the Doctor, waving away the still hovering guards as she reached up to check the bandage covering Catra’s still injured eye. “Hmm, still pretty badly swollen, though the infection is receding. The antibiotics are doing their work, so hopefully we’ll be able to take this off in a few days.”

Catra grunted at this, still fuming and barely registering the doctor as she busied herself redressing the bandage. When they’d first treated her, she’d barely been conscious, having only been dragged from the stream that the border patrol had found her in an hour before. Afterwards, Catra had been quietly surprised they’d even bothered to tend to her wounds. What was the point of healing her if they were going to execute her anyway? The Horde would’ve considered such an exercise as a ‘waste of resources’, and up until recently Catra would have been inclined to agree. Compassion, even for the damned, was still a foreign concept, but thanks to Riko she was starting to understand that life outside the Horde didn’t always have to adhere to brutal logic.

Speaking of Riko…

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where Ri- where my lawyer is?” Catra asked her guards finally, having been putting off enquiring ever since she’d woken up this morning. She hadn’t wanted to seem weak by asking, to expose the vulnerability she’d been feeling without his reassuring presence. He had been fighting in her corner from the moment she’d signed him on as her representative, something that Catra hadn’t properly had since Adora had aban- departed all those years ago. She had been unprepared for how exposing both their absences made her feel.

One guard completely ignored her, whereas the other just shrugged noncommittedly before saying, “haven’t heard from him, though his office did call to say he wasn’t comin.”

“Oh… they didn’t give a reason?” queried Catra, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“None that they told me, though I heard through the grapevine that there’d been an ‘incident’. Something that sent the brass scrambling for most of the night,” continued the guard, sniffing loudly to clear his nose, looking bored.

“An incident? What incident?”

“No idea, but I heard they woke a hell of a lot’ve higher ups to in the middle of the night help deal with it, so it must’ve been a doozy.”

Catra wanted to ask more, but she was cut off by the glare the other guard was sending her colleague, clearly none too happy about how open he was being with ‘the Horde prisoner’. Upon catch his fellow officer’s eye, the guard immediately clammed up and pointedly turned his eyes away from Catra to stare at the opposite wall.

For once deciding that her knee jerk instinct to continue badgering her captors wouldn’t get her anywhere -  these guys weren’t Arrow’s and Sparkles, and would probably exact their revenge swiftly rather than kindly carry her when she was intentionally being difficult – Catra reluctantly returned her attention back to the doctor.

“Well, as I said, the infection looks like it’s receding, even though you can’t open your eye yet,” relayed the Doctor after she’d redressed the bandage. “I’d give few days, but we will probably remove it by the end of the week.”

“Oh goodie! Just in time for my execution,” sniped Catra sarcastically, earning herself a pained look from the doctor.

“I severely doubt that they are going to execute you,” retorted the doctor, ignoring the dubious looks being sent at her by both Catra and her guards. “It wouldn’t be right; there’s been enough death thanks to the Horde, what’s sense in adding one more victim to the pile!”

“Lady, everyone hates me. Of course I’m gonna hang.”

“No. I refuse to believe that I am wasting all my efforts just so you can be murdered undamaged,” stated the doctor primly, stalking over to a nearby desk to begin scribbling notes.

“Murdered? I’m getting executed, not murdered,” said Catra flatly, wondering why the hell this lady was being so insistent about this.

“That’s just state sponsored murder in my opinion. As a doctor, I don’t quibble with distinctions, even for the likes of you,” ‘ouch, but also fair enough’. “I take my oaths seriously; ‘do no harm’ isn’t a suggestion!”

“I’m fairly certain Horde doctors took the opposite oath, doc,” responded Catra dryly, thinking back to the goddamn horse needles they’d always attacked her with.

“Well, this is Halfmoon, so I feel like we should hold ourselves to a higher standard than the Horde, don’t you think? We should have taken capital punishment off the books years ago!”

Catra fell silent at this, her thoughts once again sliding to Riko. The doctor was right, Halfmoon and its people did seem to hold themselves to a higher standard than the Horde, though the Horde didn’t exactly set the bar particularly high. Even so, it was clear that despite its flaws Halfmoon aspired to be something better, a sentiment that the Horde only understood in terms of power. Riko exemplified this; struggling to do good, to the best of his ability, in spite of the failings of his department and the system it existed in. Catra found it both extremely admirable and daunting, the bar seemingly set intimidatingly high above her reach.

Suddenly feeling Riko’s absence more acutely, Catra suppressed a shiver. Riko had done a lot to help Catra over the past few weeks, but she was suddenly realising that the most important thing he’d done was to believe in her. Not once had he insinuated that Halfmoon’s standards were unachievable for her. He’d not sugar coated her chances either; a long stint in prison was between her and true redemption, but he’d still believed it to be possible.

To Catra, that meant more than almost anything in the world.

Riko was all too familiar with fear, having become well acquainted with the emotion along with much of the rest of the Halfmoon population after the Horde’s surprise attack that resulted in The Purge. During the first few months after the attack, the Horde had set up camp amongst the ruins of the surface city, unaware that most of Halfmoon existed underground. The surviving Magicat’s, beaten and terrified, had huddled together in their homes, flinching at every errant sound in case it heralded the Horde discovering the hidden entrances to the underground caverns and breaking in to finish the job.

During this time, Riko had barely held it together. His grief over his wife’s death combined with the proverbial axe being held over everyone’s head had threatening to make him an inconsolable wreck. Had it not been for Miko, still then a sleepy eyed kit whose quiet mews constantly shattered and reformed her father’s broken heart, Riko wasn’t sure he would’ve ever found the will to keep going.

Miko was, and always will be, the centre of her father’s heart. So when Chief Dri’luth informed him that his daughter had been attacked, likely as a result of his work, he once again felt the same bone deep fear that he’d felt the day of his wife’s death, the day he’d almost lost both members of his family. It had been so unexpected, so sudden, that Riko had been overtaken with terror almost immediately.

The Horde’s invasion had been sudden, but not entirely unexpected. Halfmoon had prepared for an invasion, but the Horde had surprised their military forces with both the speed of their attack and their ferocity, not to mention the Horde’s significant technological advantages. The Magicat’s had at least expected to resist the Horde’s assault long enough for reinforcements to arrive from the other Kingdom’s of Etheria, namely their nearest neighbour Brightmoon. However the Horde had broken through their magical defences surprisingly fast – an advantage that the Magicat’s had assumed would hold the supposedly magically incompetent Horde back for days, if not weeks – and then carved through their surprised army like a knife through butter. The Magicat army had been routed in an afternoon, then ridden down and slaughtered in the evening, almost down to the last man woman. ‘The Night of Tears’ then followed, as Hordak’s army rode its tide of blood through the gates of the surface city and began to liquidate its inhabitants. Only the night-time confusion and the Horde’s shoddy intelligence regarding the size of the Magicat city saved Halfmoon from complete annihilation, allowing two thirds of the city’s population to flee underground to seal themselves away.

The Great Purge lasted some forty-eight hours from start to finish, starting with the Magicat army’s destruction and ending in the bloodbath in the upper city streets. Riko had watched the situation unfold gradually, with growing fear and dread swelling slowly like the coming tide as the situation got steadily worse. Tonight however, terror hit Riko like an out of control truck, slamming into him the moment he heard the chief of police utter the words “Miko has been attacked-.” He didn’t hear another word after that, going into shock almost immediately as images of his wife’s death began to repeat over and over in his mind, except this time replaced with Miko’s broken body rather than Mira’s.

It had taken the chief and the precinct’s medical officer a solid hour to calm him down enough to explain that Miko was fortunately mostly unharmed, having been rescued by one of the visiting princesses who’d by chance happened upon Miko before her assailants had laid a finger on her. After which, Riko had refused to discuss anything else with the chief until he had seen his daughter, which led him to be quickly whisked over to Halfmoon General to where Miko herself was still being treated for shock and some minor’s injuries she’d accrued whilst fleeing her attackers.

There, after a tearful reunion with his daughter in her private hospital room, he’d learned from the still present Princess (who’d refused to leave Miko alone in the presence of the HPD after what had happened) the exact circumstances surrounding his daughter’s attack. Fortunately, the Halfmoon Police Departments Chief of Police Jila Driluth, had followed them to the hospital and heard the same story, one that had somehow failed to reach her ears until Princess… Adora recounted what she’d seen along with halting support from a still badly shaken Miko.

“HE FUCKING WHAT!?” Yelled Riko, holding tightly onto Miko’s hand next to her hospital bed, after Adora informed him about his daughters run in the law ‘enforcement’.

“I- I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Winced Chief Driluth, her ears flinching at Riko’s volume.

“H-he just smirked and then d-drove away,” stammered Miko, taken aback by her father’s thunderous expression.

Riko rounded on Chief Driluth, murder in his eyes as he opened his mouth to tear the woman a new one. However, the Chief beat him to it by suddenly spewing forth a colourful and surprisingly inventive string of curses that shocked the two nearby chief’s aides enough to turn pale as they stood/cowered behind their boss.

Once she’d finished, Chief Driluth looked like she’s swallowed a lemon, a sour expression adorning her features as she angrily snapped a claw in the direction of one of her aides, who hurriedly pulled out a notebook and pen to begin scribbling. “Could you give me a description of the officer and if possible, their name and badge number?” She asked, the aide beginning to scribble furiously.

“Err, b-brown fur, grey eyes… maybe a white patch in the middle of the forehead?” Answered Miko, seeming unsure, wilting slightly under the chief’s disappointed grimace. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I-.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Kit!” Interjected Riko, squeezing his daughters hand reassuringly, though this was partly for his own comfort. He hadn’t let go of her since he’d laid eyes on her. “You should be able to trust those tasked with your protection! It’s not your fault they failed to do their jobs,” he continued, sharpening his words in the chief’s direction. “I will fucking bury this department under misconduct suits if this officer isn’t-!”

“I will check the duty roster, and have all suspects rounded up in the hour, Riko. All Miko will need to do is pick them out of a line up. You have my word,” interjected Chief Driluth firmly, fury blazing white hot in her eyes. “I am ashamed of the actions of my own department, something that I wish I could say was for the first time!” She fumed, before letting out a vicious growl that caused her aides to flinch heavily. “What a disgrace! By my Stars heads will roll for this!”

Riko deflated somewhat at that, feeling slightly guilty for yelling at Chief Driluth so venomously. Unlike Sir Tao, the Chief was actually a competent leader and administrator, having been assigned three years ago to the HPD to address the many failings of the department which had lost many of its best officers during The Purge. It was a daunting and painstakingly slow challenge, but one that Chief Driluth was more than capable of rising to meet, especially considering that, as the Queen’s sister, she had the full backing of the Crown.

“I- thank you, your highn- Chief Driluth,” breathed Riko eventually, receiving a stiff nod in return before the Chief turned on her heel and marched out the door, startling her two panicked assistants aside with her swift exit, the two Magicat’s scrambling to keep up with their stormy faced boss.

“Well, she’s kind of terrifying,” huffed the blonde human humorously, standing on the far side of Miko’s hospital bed, startling Riko slightly as he’d forgotten the woman was still there. “Reminds me of my old drill instructors at the Horde,” she mused, before blanching after realising what she’d just said, “err, in a good way I mean!”

“Y-yeah, she’s kind of badass,” chuckled Miko wetly, cracking a smile for the first time since Riko had reunited with her.

For the fact that the human had managed to draw a smile out of his daughter alone, Riko might have kissed the woman, as he’d half feared he’d never see such an expression on Miko’s face again after tonight. The young girl had been half catatonic and shaking like a leaf when he’d first laid eyes on her and hadn’t yet really stopped, shivering intermittently despite the fact that the room was far from chilly.

Despite resisting the urge to physically thank the blonde, he still needed felt the overwhelming need express his gratitude. “I must thank you, Princess, for saving my daughter,” he exhaled, not taking his eyes off of Miko as he spoke, as if she might vanish if he turned away for a second. “I have no words sufficient enough to express how grateful I am to you for what you have done!”

“I- err, it- it was nothing, I-,” sputtered Princess Adora, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck and averting her gaze out the nearby window.

“It wasn’t nothing to me, Princess Adora,” stated Riko firmly, reaching over Miko’s bed with his free hand to grasp Adora’s forearm. “My daughter means everything to me, and you came to her aid in her hour of need when those that should have protected her,” he gestures towards the door Chief Driluth had disappeared through, “failed to do so. That is not nothing!”

“I- yes, well… I should probably leave you and your daughter alone now,” coughed Princess Adora, clearly uncomfortable with praise. Pushing off the wall she was leaning against, she motioned towards the door. “I’ve been gone from the palace for a while now, and my companions will probably be worried. I think most of the danger has passed now.”

Sighing as he realised that the woman probably wouldn’t accept a compliment even if a gun was to her head, Riko gave her a small smile. “I suppose you must. Miko and I are in safe hands here, so please get back to your friends. You should probably rest as well, you look exhausted.”

Nodding decisively, but her gaze still firmly averted, Adora gave a quick wave in Miko’s direction before starting for the door. However, before she disappeared through the frame, she stopped herself, one hand on the door jam, her posture rigid and unsure.

“You’re- you’re Catra’s… lawyer person, right?” She asked hesitantly over her shoulder, worry laced through her tone.

“I- yes?” Started Riko, not having expected the question, his attention already having entirely refocussed onto his daughter’s wellbeing.

“I was supposed to have a meeting with you tomorrow, wasn’t I?” She asked, seeming uncertain of her words. “To discuss Catra’s trial.”

“Yes, I believe we were,” nodded Riko, frowning at the questioning tone.

“Were or are?” Questioned Adora, though Riko could immediately tell she was asking for more than a simple confirmation of a meeting. She was asking if he intended to remain as Catra’s council, whether he was going to drop her case because of tonight’s – or rather last nights by now – events.

“I- I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

He had a duty to Catra, and without a doubt the girl sorely needed the help, but his daughter was his life. How could he forsake one over the other?

Adora seemed to flinch at his admission, her jaw clenching as she turned her gaze forward towards the ceiling. Miko’s hand tightened in Riko’s grip.

“I see,” said Princess Adora quietly, starting to move away again, though once again she stalled. “I know that I can’t ask you to choose Catra over your own daughter. But… please consider that Catra has been,” Adora swallows, “abandoned a lot these past few years, by those she- she should have been able to rely on. Please don’t be one more.”

Riko stared at the empty doorway for a long few moments after Adora departed, her parting words hanging heavy in the now silent room.

“Dad?” Came Miko’s heartbreakingly quiet voice after a few minutes, startling Riko out of his thoughts.

“Y-yes Kitten?”

“A-are you going to drop the case?”

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered, unable to comprehend yet his own thoughts on the matter. It was too soon, and he was far too tired to make such an impossible decision tonight. Really the decision should be easy. His daughter mattered more to him than anything else in this dark and unforgiving world, but he had become a lawyer to help people, in what was often their darkest moments. Riko did suspect what his eventual decision will be, and he hated himself for even considering such a choice. But he was more than willing to put off such a decision until morning.

“You are the most important thing in the world to me, Miko,” he continued, dropping his gaze down into his lap as he shakily breathed out a ragged breath. “More than my career, than my principles, than-.”

“I want to meet her,” interrupted Miko, causing Riko to jerk his gaze back up to his daughters face in alarm.

“Who? Catra?!”

“Yes,” answered Miko simply, nodding resolutely, though her nerves were evident.

“Why?”

“I need to know if she’s worth it. To see that she is what you say she is, for myself,” explained Miko shakily, shifting uncomfortably on the basic hospital mattress.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea-.”

“I know how much your work means to you, dad. I’m not going to ask you to walk away without seeing her for myself, alright!” Snapped Miko, anger finally breaking through her shock, though thankfully Riko could tell it was directed at the situation rather than her father. “Whenever you’ve talked about the case at home you’ve always said that she deserved a chance, so she needs to prove you wrong before I let you walk away for me.”

Riko eyed Miko carefully, chewing his lip as he thought his daughters request through, honestly surprised by both his daughter’s reaction and her apparent conviction. He would drop Catra case in a heartbeat if Miko asked; it would tear him apart to do so, but for her he would do it without question. The fact that Miko wished to meet the former Horde soldier to make her own judgment was… well, a surprise to say the least, though one that filled his heart with pride.

That didn’t mean he didn’t worry however.

His reservations had nothing to do with Catra herself, as Riko was long convinced that the Magicat wasn’t a danger to anyone now – except maybe perhaps herself, which Riko had been keeping a close watch for almost from the moment she had accepted his council. But prison wasn’t exactly a place he’d ever wish to take the daughter. He had gone to great pains to shield from much of the harshness of the world and taking her to a prison full of hardened criminals directly flew in the face of that. Prima would obviously disapprove, and quite frankly Riko wouldn’t blame her, but he could tell how important this was to Miko and despite his fatherly misgivings he could tell that she felt that she needed to do this. His daughter having astutely realised that he would willingly throw away all his firmly held ideals and his good conscience to wind for her sake, and was treating his willingness to do so with the care and concern it deserved, despite the ordeal his ideals had already put her through.

“…I will see what I can arrange,” he said eventually, giving Miko’s hand another tender squeeze.

By the time Adora finally reached the suite Queen Cyra had provided the visiting Princesses for their stay in her palace, she was bone tired. Her short walk to ‘get some air’ had ended up taking the entire night and thanks to all the statements she’d needed to give to the HPD – twice after Chief Driluth realised certain things had been left out of the original incident reports – a significant part of the early hours of the morning. So, by now she was exhausted.

Adora was glad that there was nothing trial wise happening today until the mid-afternoon – assuming Riko still wanted to interview her, if he hadn’t dropped Catra’s case. Adora was looking forward to catching up on a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, which a rarity these days; between her war battered sleep schedule, her regular nightmares, and reintroduction of Shadow Weaver into her living space back in Brightmoon, Adora hadn’t really slept well for the better part of three months now.

However, once Adora pushed through the door into the shared common area of the Princess alliance’s apartments, she was immediately assailed by a pink, sparkly, and extremely angry blur that all but launched itself across the room at her once she entered.

“Adora, where the hell have you been!?” Exclaimed Glimmer, far too loud for – Adora glanced at a nearby grandfather clock – seven-thirty in the morning.

“Good morning, Glimmer,” sighed Adora heavily, really not in the mood for an interrogation. “I went for a walk.”

Yes, that was a deliberately obtuse answer, but Adora was tired and last night had been a whole thing that she really didn’t want to address until she’d slept or at least had some coffee.

“For twelve hours?!”

Adora hadn’t realised she’d been gone for that long; she must’ve wandered around aimlessly for much longer than she’d thought before bumping into Miko.

“Oh, err- sorry, I got held up,” shrugged Adora, pushing past an indignant Glimmer and heading towards her room, the siren song of her bed calling to her.

“What Glimmer means, Adora, is that we were all concerned when you weren’t in your room this morning, and that if you knew you were going to be away so long, a heads up would’ve been nice?” Explained Bow, materialising out of nowhere – probably somewhere, but Adora was too tired to bother to be aware of her surroundings right now – to cut off Glimmer’s angry scoff, apparently having been nominated as today’s angry Glimmer translator. A truly thankless job, if Adora had ever seen one.

Adora wasn’t sure if the curt grunt Glimmer made in response to Bow’s ‘translation’ was an agreement with his translation, but she honestly couldn’t muster up enough energy to care right now, so she simply nodded. “Right, sorry about that, last night turned into a bit of a mess and in all the confusion I forgot.”

“What the hell did you get up to last night that could’ve wasted twelve hours?!” Demanded Glimmer imperiously, shrugging off the calming hand Bow attempted to rest on her shoulder.

“I prevented a mugging,” grunted Adora, though she knew that what happened last night would probably more accurately be described as a politically motivated beat-down, but she felt that would probably result in more questions. Questions she was far too exhausted to answer.

“You prevented a- Adora, what did I say about keeping a low profile here?!” Growled Glimmer, teleporting in front of Adora with a shower of sparkles to block her approach to her bedroom. “We are guests here, Adora! We shouldn’t be stepping in on matters that don’t concern us!”

“So, I should’ve let those guys beat the shit out of some poor girl? Because, what? It might make us look like bad guests?!” Exclaimed Adora, not quite believing what she was hearing. Glimmer had told everyone to be on their best behaviour before they’d arrived, telling them that the Magicats had been renowned for being notoriously prickly before the war – though thus far Glimmer had been the only one to really put her foot in it, thanks to her outburst back during Catra’s indictment.

“This is Halfmoon, not Brightmoon, so yes! You don’t know the laws here!”

“So, we shouldn’t intervene in the Kingdom of Snows, or Salineas, or anywhere else because it’s not our business unless we’ve read their lawbooks!? Are you serious right now?”

After gaping at Adora like a fish for a moment, her lacklustre and probably only mostly anger supported argument already full of holes, Glimmer suddenly changed tack, her clenched fists sparking with magic. “Gods! Shadow Weaver is right! Take my eyes off you for a second and suddenly you’re-.”

“-Excuse me, WHAT?!” Growled Adora, her expression turning thunderous. She was seconds away from exploding at her best friend. Glimmer had been doing this more and more over the last few months. ‘Shadow Weaver’ said this, and ‘Shadow Weaver’ said that, had started appearing more and more in their conversations recently, as if that old witch had suddenly become the leading authority on every issue or problem the Alliance ever had. Particularly however, it seemed to come up whenever Adora’s personal issues and failings came up in conversation. Something that had been happening with increasing irregularity as her and Glimmer’s relationship continued to deteriorate.

“-galivanting off ‘being a hero’! You can’t help yourself!”

Once again, Adora was nearly overwhelmed with the desire to punch her best friend, and once again Bow hurriedly stepped between them in the nick of time to prevent Glimmer’s royal nose from being re-arranged in a way that the Brightmoon Royal Art Collection curator might describe as ‘unique’.

“Okaayy, I think Adora needs some rest, Glimmer, before we give her the third degree, alright?” Interjected Bow firmly, with a pained expression on his face, all but hauling the Queen away from Adora before she said anything else inflammatory. Clearly, he’d taken one look at Adora’s face and correctly decided that Glimmer was now currently poking an angry bear in the vagina with a stick. “I’m glad you’re safe Adora. We’ll catch up later!” He threw over his shoulder as he ‘politely’ manhandled the Queen away from Adora.

Adora watched on, with a clenched jaw and white knuckled fists, as Bow dragged Glimmer off towards her bedroom and all but tossed the furiously spluttering sparkly queen inside before shutting the door firmly behind them so he could presumably attempt talk her down and diffuse her temper.

“You know, I struggle to understand her sometimes,” came a bored voice from behind one of the suites sofa’s, causing Adora to startle.

Glancing over, Adora was surprised to see Mermista in teal athletic gear on a workout mat, currently mid-stretch in a highly complicated looking yoga pose, having been half hidden by the sofa during Adora and Glimmer’s altercation.

“Like, I get that things are hard with Glimmer right now, it is for all of us,” she continued, folding herself even further into a pretzel that made Adora’s knee’s hurt from just looking at it, her bored inflection not even straining in exertion as she did so. “But she needs to reel that temper back in check, or else she’s gonna get slapped one of these days. Like, what does she thinks gonna happen when her home-schooled sparkly ass steps up in the grill of someone like you? I know you’re, like, an angel who doesn’t like hurting your enemies sometimes, but bitch, you are still trained to kill in ways we probably can’t even dream of. If she swung at you she’d die, and it wouldn’t even be fair!”

Adora couldn’t help but snort at this, wondering why it was the Mermista of all people that remembered her past with the Horde the most objectively. But then, Mermista had always been a bundle of contradictions. One would think for instance that Perfuma would be the one up at the crack of dawn with the birds performing exercises rather than the sea princess, whereas in fact it was quite the opposite, and Mermista was the early riser whilst Perfuma slept like the dead until noon unless otherwise required.

Mermista always appeared to not care about anyone or anything, whereas the truth was that Mermista cared deeply about a great deal. Seahawk was the living embodiment of Mermista’s well-guarded ‘Hidden depths.’ Depths that Adora was convinced ran far deeper than anybody really understood.

Sometimes, Adora felt that many of the other Princesses forgot where she came from. That whilst she had been out of the Horde for some time now, she had still lived within their ranks far longer than she had outside them. Yes, she hated the Horde, and eschewed much of the brutal lessons and training they’d drilled into her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how anymore, or that, given the right circumstance, she wouldn’t use them if it would ultimately help the rebellion.

“Yeah, can’t cast magic with broken fingers,” muttered Adora harshly, surprising both herself and Mermista with her vehemence, earning her a raised eyebrow from the other princess. “Sorry, long night,” she muttered sheepishly, looking away from Mermista’s questioning brown eyes.

“It’s not like I care She-Ra, they’re not my fingers!” Smirked Mermista, moving on to another mind-bending pose that Adora honestly thought shouldn’t be possible without removing limbs. “Though feel free to break Seahawks next time he touches me, he creeps me out.”

As if summoned by some unseen power, Seahawk chose that exact moment to exit Mermista’s bedroom dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist – though given how little it covered it was actually probably a hand towel he’d confused for a bath towel. Flashing a welcoming smile Adora’s way, he sauntered over to delicately brush a kiss onto Mermista’s cheek, which she showed neither embarrassment or any real reaction to at all, remaining locked in what had to be an awkward pose to hold for any real length of time.

There was no question as to what had clearly happened the night before, the tapestry of hickeys on Seahawks normally bandanna covered neck told the story clear as day. The fact that they also led a clear trail down well south of his stomach caused Adora to snap her gaze towards the ceiling.

“Good morning my dearest!” He crooned, tucking a loose strand of blue hair that had escaped Mermista’s ponytail sometime during her routine away from her eyes. “May I say you look ravishing this morning!”

“Does this mean you want me to snap his dick off for you as well?” Asked Adora without thinking, her usual filter having long vanished over the horizon.

Adora froze at Seahawks pained gasped as he immediately jumped back from Mermista, clutching his groin protectively as he did so. She hadn’t intended to say that out loud. An inside thought had very much escaped outside, and Adora was suddenly mortified.

However, before she managed to blurt out an apology, Mermista burst out laughing, finally collapsing from her impossible pose onto her mat as Adora stared on in shock. It was the most emotion she’d ever seen come from the Salinean.

“Oh wow! I could get used to angry, sleep deprived, Adora!” Snickered Mermista, once her initial barks of laughter had subsided. Adora was further shocked to notice that the princesses voice lacked her usual bored inflection, the woman sounding almost normal for once. “That’s- hah! Oh, naw there’s no need to get the dick saw out Adora! That just so happens to be my favourite part of him!”

Seahawk, still holding protectively onto his crotch, puffed out his chest at the praise as Adora wrinkled her nose, suddenly deciding she now had far too much information on a subject she had long been semi-curious about.

“Oh, err- right. Sorry about threatening to cut your… ‘thing’ off!” Said Adora, awkwardly gesturing in Seahawks general direction, her normal sense of propriety returning along with her embarrassment.

“No offense taken, Adora,” smiled Seahawk brightly, alarmingly unperturbed about the threats to his person. “In fact, if I ever stooped so low as to ever harm my beautiful waterlily, I would positively encourage you to take such action and castrate my black hearted person post haste!”

“I- ok?” Responded Adora, confused.

“Did you- did you just give yourself the shovel talk?!” Exclaimed Mermista, looking a cross between highly amused and sickeningly fond.

“Of course, my love. Miss Adora here is the first to know of our budding relationship, so it is long overdue! I also cannot think of anyone I’d rather be held to account by than She-Ra herself! Plus she has a sword, which may come in handy for the- ah, sawing if I ever stray into madness and harm you! ”

Adora was starting to think that she shouldn’t be present, for… whatever the hell was going on here. The gaze Mermista staring at Seahawk with was starting to look predatory. Stars these two were weird.

“Seahawk.”

“Yes, my starfish?”

“Get back in bed, I’ve decided to continue my workout in our bedroom.”

“Yes dear.”

And with that, Seahawk turned on his heel and marched back into their bedroom, his hazardously short towel fluttering dangerously as he went.

“Adora.”

“Err- I- I’m fine out here thanks!” Stuttered Adora, giving Mermista a panicked look, earning herself an eyeroll from Mermista strong enough to shift Etheria on its axis.

“Go get some sleep, Adora,” ordered Mermista with a dry chuckle, rolling up her yoga mat and making to follow Seahawk, though she stopped to throw one last sentence over her shoulder before practically dashing inside her room. “Oh, and Adora? Don’t suffer in silence with all this. I know its… hard for you right now, especially since Glimmer’s got her head shoved so far up her own ass and Bow’s got his work cut out trying to remove it. Still, don’t just stew on it alone. We’re all here to talk, even me, ok?”

Adora blinked at the princess for a few moments, once again taken aback both by how sincere Mermista sounded and the fact she was talking about this to her at all. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Mermista.”

“K,” replied Mermista, her normal affectation of ennui sliding back onto her face as she continued into the darkened interior of her room. “Seahawk! I thought I told you to- oh!”

Adora shook her head, both to dislodge the slightly discombobulating feeling of being given advice by Mermista and to purge the sound of the muffled giggling squeal that emanated from behind Mermista’s door as she moved away. As she wandered into her own room, passing a half dead looking Perfuma shuffling towards the coffee machine with a grunted greeting, Adora tiredly hoped that today might be a better day once she’d slept a little.

Given the current downward trajectory of her life at the moment, she’d probably guess that it was probably unlikely. But hope had always been something she’d clung to since leaving the Horde, a luxury that hadn’t been permitted when she’d still been in its ranks. The Horde had always treated hope as illogical, a dream that had nothing to do with the cold hard reality of war, which was an inevitable numbers game with strict rules, timetables, and calculations that had to adhered to regardless of the cost.

Analytically speaking, Adora’s life was going down the shitter. Her calculations predicted the steady continued disintegration of the Best Friend Squad and the death of Catra at the hands of her own people. So really, at this stage, foolish hope was all Adora felt she had left.

Shadow Weaver worked away silently with her secateurs, pruning the heads off the heavily thorned and almost black coloured flowers she’d grown in the darkest corner of the garden Queen Glimmer had permitted her in Brightmoon. These flowers – though most in Etheria incorrectly considered them to be weeds – had been useful in recent months, a turn of events that Shadow Weaver had found surprisingly satisfying. She had spent so long dependant on the Black Garnet that she had ceased to practice much of her normal spell-craft, as compared against the raw power the rune stone had provided her, her old-fashioned spell-work had seemed like a disappointing collection of mundane party tricks by comparison.

However, going cold turkey from the almost limitless power of the rune stone had forced the sorceress to resort back to basics, dabbling in magicks that she had long dismissed as irrelevant. Now, Shadow Weaver recognised that she had been foolish to ignore the subtler forms of dark magic she had once used before joining up with the Horde. The ‘paltry’ sort of spells and potion work that had been the reason for her excommunication from Mystacor all those years ago.

Take this flower for instance, the Black Poppy. Boil the leaves with phosphorous and opium, then mulch them into paste, and combine them with sugar and water, they make a sweet tasting and highly addictive potion that, if imbibed, can make the drinker more… suggestable and prone to manipulation. Something that she had found very useful during her laughably termed ‘imprisonment’ in Brightmoon.

She had first come across that potion recipe hidden in the forbidden sections of the Mystacor libraries, in a book compiled by court sorcerers hoping to help its readers prevent their masters from being poisoned or manipulated by those with nefarious intent. Now, of course none of Shadow Weavers intentions were ‘nefarious.’ No, everything she did was for the greater good.

And Adora was the key to it all! Adora had such greatness ahead of her, greatness that could only be realised if Shadow Weaver was there to guide her to her true destiny. Honestly, look at her now! Galivanting across Etheria, wasting time and energy trying to resist the Horde when that battle was a paltry sideshow to the real reason for Adora’s very existence.

Adora. Her sweet, sweet Adora. Such a strong, beautiful, powerful girl. Capable of so much, but blinded by so little. Her ‘friends’, her ‘alliance’, her ‘mission’. All of them as inconsequential as that glorified and mangy rat she used to be so fond of. All of them distractions from her purpose; from Shadow Weaver, her mother.

She may not have birthed Adora, but Shadow Weaver knew in her heart of hearts that she was hers, her very own child manifested and dropped from the heavens for her to cultivate and nurture into a being of power the likes of which Etheria and eventually the entire Galaxy will have ever seen or see again. Soon, Adora will be firmly back within her tender embrace. Held tight to Shadow Weaver’s loving breast and shown how to make the universe into what it should be according to Shadow Weaver’s design.

Taking one of the pruned black flowers from her basket, Shadow Weaver held it up to the bottom of her mask and breathed in its scent, luxuriating in its fragrance and allowing herself to dream of the future, of the moment Adora was finally back under her control once again.

This time, there would be no need for coercion, this time there will be no need to placate her with a glorified pet that could talk back and cause problems, this time Adora will have the scales peeled back from her eyes and the door to heart wrenched open to allow Shadow Weaver to crawl inside and never leave.

This time, Adora will do as she is told.

After all, she will know, mother knows best.

Chapter Text

Queen Cyra Driluth sighed heavily as she finished reading her sisters report about the previous night’s altercation.

It was, in a word, a shitshow. Not only had some of her more idiotic subjects attempted to assault the daughter of a public prosecutor for the crime of doing his job, but a sworn member of her police force had also committed a gross dereliction of duty by refusing to come to the aid of said prosecutor’s daughter when she had clearly been in a life-threatening situation. Which had in turn led to a visiting diplomat who, lest they forget, also happened to be fucking She-Ra, having to intervene in place of her own police force. A fact that was highly embarrassing to put it mildly.

The only upside to this whole situation was that it had given the queen’s sister the perfect excuse for a heavy-handed crackdown on her department’s corruption and general poor practices. The legendary She-Ra was considered by much of the general public the closest Etheria had to a living god, making her saving of Miss Southpaw practically divine intervention in the eyes of the public, throwing the police departments actions into further disrepute for their own inaction.

The fact that She-Ra had been the one to intervene had stoked the public’s low burning simmer of discontent over the police departments failings into a roaring flame. Kessa had been practically spitting bullets the last Cyra had seen her sister, a slightly terrifying glint flickering in her eye as she’d described her plans to all but tear down and rebuild her department from the ground up. Heads were about to roll in the HPD during the coming days.

Sighing through her nose once more, Cyra flicked her gaze over towards her husband sat in his wheelchair beside the fireplace. As always, her consort was staring blankly into the flames, the orange light dancing across the grey white fur on his drawn face.

The last few weeks had been hard on him. When news that a foreign Magicat had been found on the surface, he’d become more animated than she’d seen him in years. The same cruel burst of faint hope that had lanced through Cyra waking him from his decade long depression that had left him all but catatonic.  This Catra’s arrival hadn’t improved matters however, simply dredging up more pain to torment her beloved husband with even more reminders of his greatest failure.

Milo had been the commander of Halfmoon’s armies that terrible day. The day that the Horde massacred the Magicat field army at the battle of the Weeping Willow, opening the way to Halfmoon and allowing the Horde to take the surface city by surprise before it had fully raised its defences. The near extermination of their people and the death of their only daughter had been too much for him to bear, even without taking into account his horrendous injuries inflicted during the battle itself. Milo had lost one eye, one leg below the knee, and most of the use of his left arm after a Horde artillery shell had landed a direct hit on his command tent and knocked him out of the fight before the battle had even begun.

Cyra had spent years trying to assure her husband that there wasn’t anything that he could have done, that his failure hadn’t been avoidable. It hadn’t even been a lie; Cyra had spent months after the battle going over the tactical and strategic situation before the battle and the Night of Tears that followed, and over and over again she had reached the same inexorable conclusion. There was nothing her husband could’ve done to prevent that calamity. Magic had been the backbone of their defence against the Horde, and with their magical defences suddenly and unexplainably nullified, their battle mages and sorcerers made temporarily powerless, the Horde’s technological edge had been overwhelming, even with Cyra’s herself trying to stem the tide with her runestones powers.

The only thing that might have saved them would have been Brightmoon coming to their aid sooner, and to do that Queen Angella would’ve needed to have had a divine premonition to induce her to muster her army and march days before Halfmoon had sent its first panicked request for assistance.

But, well… try telling that to the man who’d lost everything. Cyra herself struggled with squaring her conscience and she’d conducted the after-battle reports herself, gone over every titbit of intelligence they’d had for something they might have missed or should’ve caught, but she’d found little to nothing. They had been defeated simply because the Horde had been better at war than they were. Between the unanticipated loss of their magical advantage and the Horde achieving complete strategic and tactical surprise, defeat had been inevitable.

Pushing such heavy thoughts from her mind with a heavy sigh, Cyra stood from behind her desk and padded softly across to her husband, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the hair between his permanently drooped ears.

“Come on husband, it’s time for a little air, I think,” she murmured, gripping the back of his wheelchair and beginning to push him out of her office.

“She looks like you,” Milo said suddenly, startling Cyra with his brittle tone, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Cyra blinked down at the back of her husband’s head, unsure what he was referring to. “Who does, darling?”

“That Horde soldier, the one always on the screens.”

Cyra’s breath catches in her throat, suddenly not needing any further explanation as to what her husband was insinuating. Of course, she’d thought that the moment she’d laid eyes on this ‘Catra’ in the photo’s attached to the security reports after they’d found her. But she was certain that she’d had the same reaction that half the mothers and fathers in Halfmoon; the same heart wrenching twist all those who’d lost children around that time had experienced the moment they’d said a young, unknown Magicat had been found on the surface. Wishful thinking wouldn’t bring Katriska back, no matter how much she wanted it to be true.

“I… I see the resemblance, husband,” because by the stars she did. But, she couldn’t allow herself to be tempted to believe it. No one was that lucky – or unlucky, considering the circumstances. She’d lost far too much for it to ever be true. “But I think you’re mistaken. A passing resemblance, nothing more.”

Her husband shakes his head. “No, it’s her. Has to be, she looks-.”

“Milo, please!” Whispered Cyra tremulously, her fingers trembling as their knuckles went white from gripping the handles of the wheelchair too hard. “I can’t- don’t do this! I would not survive it not being true.”

Milo turned in his seat, his one good eye finding hers, clearer than Cyra remembers seeing it for years. He stared at her for a long moment, before nodding almost imperceptibly and slowly slumping back into his seat.

Cyra sagged with relief as she blinked away her watery eyes. A part of her was glad that some small part of her Milo had returned to her as the result of this Catra’s arrival, but she couldn’t help but worry that it was built entirely on false hope. That the moment that hope was ripped away her husband would finally sink beneath his bottomless sea of grief and never surface again.

She couldn’t help but wonder if, this time, he’d drag her down along with him too.

The sense of relief Catra felt when she was summoned from her cell to the interview room once again was almost enough to cause her to burst into tears. Almost. The past forty-eight hours had been hell, Catra having mostly been left alone to own her devices in her cell, all of yesterday’s appointments after her medical check-up having been cancelled. Whatever ‘incident’ that had occurred yesterday had caused the prison that was currently her home to basically go into lockdown.

These days, Catra found that sitting alone with nothing but her thoughts to be a harrowing experience. Without something to focus on to distract herself, whether that be world domination or, more recently, her trial preparation, her thoughts tended to take a… darker turn, taking her to places in her mind that Catra struggled to pull herself from. Her imagination could be surprisingly vivid when it wanted to be, whether that meant replaying her greatest hits of awful things she had done during her time in the Horde, or simply making up worst case scenario’s that sometimes seemed so real that she would catch herself thinking they had actually happened.

So, when her guards dragged her from her cell into her and Riko’s usual interview room, Catra barely managed to stop a sob of relief ripping out of her chest at the sight of the lawyer’s briefcase, placed on the metal table opposite a freshly prepared tuna sandwich for her already sat wrapped in clingfilm on her side of the table.

Catra felt somewhat silly, and inwardly cursed herself for jumping to conclusions and allowing her abandonment issues to take the helm once again. She had allowed that to happen far too often over the last few years, and only to ever her detriment. The last forty-eight hours now felt like she had begun to backslide back into bad habits.

Even so, there was a small part of Catra that still didn’t quite believe what she was seeing, the one that sounded suspiciously like Shadow Weaver, hissing acidly that finally the other shoe was once again about to drop.

What happened next didn’t help.

After a few minutes of waiting, the door to the interview room creaked open. Catra knew instantly that it wasn’t Riko just from the sound the door made alone. When Riko entered the room, the door would almost always burst open, the Magicat always moving with an energy that Catra couldn’t help but find infectious. This wasn’t that; the door opened tentatively, nervously even, if Catra was bored enough to imagine an inanimate object’s emotions.

So, when a smaller, younger, white furred Magicat slunk through the door, Catra was only half surprised. It was clear from her posture that she wasn’t supposed to be here, quickly shutting the door behind herself as if expecting to be pursued inside at any moment. Catra found her actions odd, but remained impassive, unsure if her captors had finally given up on their whole ‘law and order’ stick and resorted to psychological for a change. It might make for a fun change of pace to see how the other side did it, but she doubted they could do anything to surprise her, since she was already exceedingly familiar with the rules of psychological torture; Shadow Weaver had practically mastered in it.

Seemingly deciding that the coast was clear, the younger Magicat, who Catra guessed to be somewhere around her own age, turned to face her. Her eyes widened at the sight of Catra, unable to hide her shock as she eyed her across the room. Catra understood, she was probably quite the sight to behold. It had been a few weeks now since she’d been fished out of that stream, but whilst some of the bruising had settled down, she knew she still looked like hell. The partially healed cuts across her face and arms, the bandage still secured across her blue eye, and that was on top of her well-honed air of danger she had perfected over the years. The girl was probably terrified by the sight of her-.

“Huh… you’re a lot smaller than I expected.”

Or, maybe not.                                                                                       

Catra was brought up short, blinking at the girl in surprise before scowling. “Who the fuck are you calling small!?” She snapped incredulously, narrowing her eyes threateningly at the girl.

The girl blanched, as if suddenly hearing her own words. “Oh! Sorry, I just- I just meant that… on the view screen broadcasts they make you seem so big? Larger than life, I guess?” She spluttered in embarrassment, gesturing vaguely in Catra’s direction, her cheeks colouring under her fur. “But in reality, you’re kinda scrawny?”

“Scrawny?!” Exclaimed Catra loudly, now deeply offended. She’d had enough of that bullshit from Shadow Weaver without this bitch calling her weak as well!

“Sshhh!” Hissed the newcomer, waving frantically at Catra in an attempt to silence her. “Keep it down, or else they’ll hear!”

“And why should I do that? You here to kill me or something? Because if you are, the least you could do is not insult me whilst you try and off me, bitch!”

“Wha- I’m not here to- to kill you!?”

“Uhuh, then why all the sneaking, pussy-cat?” Asked Catra, throwing her a bored look before busying herself by inspecting her claws over her manacles. “Cus, you clearly aint supposed to be here!”

“I- I’m not an assassin, ok! I just wanted to talk to you, and see you for myself is all, without anyone hovering over my shoulder.”

Catra stared at the girl, unsure what to make of her. “So, what? You just wanted to come and gawk at the famous Magicat Horde soldier?” She deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “I’m flattered.”

“No, I actually wanted to see if you were worth it,” states the Magicat simply, with a shrug.

“Worth what?”

The Magicat eyes Catra carefully for a moment, ready to study her reaction. “For my father to risk his career and life over. And mine I suppose.”

“Your fath- wait… you’re Miko, aren’t you?” said Catra slowly, the pieces slotting into place. Now that she was looking for it, the family resemblance was uncanny; she had the same nose, white fur, and the same calculating gaze as her father, though her eyes were a warm brown as opposed to his sharp greens.  “Huh, you look the same, except for the eyes. Your dad talks about you a lot, you know that?”

“I- yes, I can’t get him to stop sometimes….” Nods Miko ruefully, rolling her eyes, before trailing off, looking unsure how to continue the conversation. Eventually, she rallies. “So, are you worth it? I almost got lynched because of you, so I wanna be damned sure that dad isn’t wasting his time before he risks our lives for your neck.”

Catra considers playing dumb, but she discards the impulse quickly. If anything was clear from the last few weeks of interacting with Riko, it was that he loved his daughter beyond words. Catra was actually secretly in awe of it, how someone could be so invested in another person’s wellbeing, so determined to care for them. It made her heart ache in that way it always did whenever she thought about Adora.

“You- you were attacked?” Catra asks hesitantly, temporarily ignoring Miko’s question in favour of new information. “I- is that why Riko didn’t turn up yesterday?”

“Yup. He, uh- he didn’t take it well.”

“Not surprised. Dude won’t shut up about you. Must’ve been scared,” nodded Catra, surprising even herself by how contrite she sounded about it.

Miko huffed. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

Miko stared at Catra, clearly trying to puzzle out if Catra was being obtuse; which, she was. “My first one.”

“Look little girl-.”

“We are the same age. I’ve seen your file, Miss Applesauce.”

“My name was broadcast on live television, plus I’d be surprised if everyone hasn’t seen my file by now,” snorted Catra, folder her arms across her chest and rolling her good eye. “So that’s not the revelation you seem to think it is.”

Miko flushed, clearly not as experienced at combatting Catra’s well-honed brand of snark as her father was. “You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

Catra flashed her fangs in a wide smirk. “I know. It’s part of my charm.”

“I don’t think you’re charming anyone with that face! What did you do? Run into a tree?” Snapped Miko, finally showing some bite.

Catra wasn’t a vain person. It had never really been important to her how others viewed her. She was aware that, uninjured, she had been considered something approaching attractive by her fellow Horde members. But she hadn’t really cared about it much. The only person she’d ever cared to look nice for had been Adora anyway. Not that she’d done that of course. Her mane had been the only thing she’d ever put any effort into and that had had nothing to do with Adora; its wildness had made Catra feel taller, more menacing, and powerful. The fact that Adora had liked to brush her fingers through it after lights out in the barracks had simply been a nice bonus. Not everything she’d done back then had been to please Adora.

Catra moved on swiftly before she continued any further along that train of thought. “Huh, kitten’s got claws,” she snorted, leaning back in her chair and gesturing to her face. “No tree though, I’m afraid. More like an angry Hordak with an arm cannon.”

“Don’t call me ki- wait, Hordak did this too you!?” Exclaimed Miko, her voice pitching high.

Catra tried and failed to not let her irritation over that particular fact show. “Yup. Little bitch caught me by surprise cus he knew his skinny ass couldn’t win fair.”

 “Yeesh, someone thinks highly of themselves!” Scoffed Miko incredulously.

 Catra narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Miko gestured at Catra, looking her up and down, as if that was answer in of itself. “Your tiny. You can’t tell me that you could take the Butcher of Halfmoon in a fight! You’re like ninety pounds soaking wet!”

The old Catra would’ve launched herself across the table at Miko to claw her eyes out for such an insult. The new Catra… well, she still wanted to claw Miko’s eyes out, but only metaphorically. It was a close-run thing though.

“Ok, first of all, I’m not tiny,” hissed Catra, her claws unsheathing as she pointed angry at her lawyer’s really irritating daughter. “Second of all, the ‘Butcher of Halfmoon’!? Hordak is an asthmatic emo-clone with delusions of grandeur, he doesn’t deserve a cool nickname! If it weren’t for his stupid First One tech exoskeleton actually fucking working for once, and the fact he has so much stupid exposed wiring in his lab, I would’ve ripped his goddamn throat out!”

Miko blanched at Catra’s rather vivid description, but quickly recovered and scowled fiercely at her. “The ‘emo-clone’ as you put it, killed my mum! Along with thousands of others! Sounds a lot like a butcher to me!”

This time, it was Catra’s turn to blanche, contrition immediately replacing her anger as she once again found her skewed image of the tyrant butt up against reality.

It wasn’t that Catra had been unaware of what Hordak had done. That wasn’t possible since she’d helped him almost achieve his goal of world domination on several occasions, and before she’d actually gotten to know the clone, Catra had thought of him as the all-powerful and terrifying leader; someone to be feared as much as admired. She’d never gone so far as to completely by into the whole ‘glorious leader’ shtick that Adora had swallowed hook line and sinker, but looking back she’d still internalised some of his propaganda. She’d known the Horde weren’t the good guys, but as far as she had been concerned the princesses weren’t either, something that became far easier to believe after she convinced herself that they’d taken Adora from her and corrupted her best friend past the point of no return.

However, after her first year of being Hordak’s second in command, all of these illusions had been dispelled. Her position had allowed her to see the fullness of the meat grinder that was the Horde’s war machine and what it did in Hordak’s name. She’d read the reports, the ones not broadcast triumphantly across Horde networks telling stories of daring do and glorious tales of liberation. It had been shocking at first, to read how frank the other force captains had been in their reports, how they didn’t even bother to hide their brutal contempt towards Etheria’s population, a lot of it to those who weren’t even from the Kingdom’s openly resisting the Horde. Reports of stealing a towns winter food supply and leaving them to starve, or just burning families alive in their homes in reprisal to a rebellion attack, had been written in the same uncaring tone one might use to discuss the weather.

Catra had tried to clamp down on such appalling behaviour, realising – correctly – that the Horde was only making their job harder by being so unnecessarily brutal. Catra understood warfare, that it was never going to be nice or clean, but much of the atrocities committed by the Horde were as unnecessary as they were counterproductive. Catra’s own experience with Queen Glimmer had been enough to demonstrate that. When she’d first met the sparkly princess, she’d been quick to punch, but had been naïve and had shied away from anything more violent. The first time Catra had seen Glimmer after Queen Angella’s death, the Princess had been out for blood. Gone were the pulled punches and breaks for pithy one-liners, replaced by incandescent rage and a sparkly magic forceful enough to eviscerate Catra should a hit actually land.

The lesson had been abundantly clear. In the short-term brutality might give you an advantage, hell it might even win a war. But if the war persisted, eventually that brutality will eventually become matched with equal, if not stronger, brutality. The Horde was practically creating their own enemies by that point, making them stronger and more effective, giving them the tools required to beat them.

But, in the end, her actions had amounted to little. By the time she’d gotten a hand on the Horde’s helm, the dye had already been cast. They were the evil Horde; there’s not much anyone can do to reform an organisation like that, even from the inside. Even without taking Hordak into account, brutality was baked into its DNA; and by the time Catra realised this, it was already far too late for her to back out and claim she didn’t know or hadn’t been at all complicit in those actions it had taken under her management, sponsored or not.

Adora had been foolish to believe that the Horde was a force for good. Catra on the other hand had been foolish to believe that she might have been able to change it, that achieving power would be allow her to save herself and ease the Horde’s boot off everyone’s neck – to somehow make it a ‘good’ force of oppression. After that, the only way she could see the suffering stopping was by winning the war as quickly as possible, trapped as she was by her own hubris and decisions.

Catra had known the answer to Miko’s question the moment she’d asked it. “No.”

Miko’s face tightened, her scowl intensifying. “No!? How can you-.”

“To your question. Not Hordak. Though I still think you shouldn’t treat him like some kind of untouchable boogieman. He’s just a dude, not a fairytale or a nightmare. He’s a whinny little bitch who’s scared cus his daddy isn’t around to tell him what to do!” Snarled Catra, dragging her claws against the table for emphasis, distantly aware that she was all but shouting. “That’s why he’s doing all this, you know? All this pain and suffering is just cus he wants to make daddy proud! So that if and when he manages to finally call home, he has something to show for it!”

Miko stared at Catra in shock, unable to find the words as Catra continued to rant.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? Years of war because he couldn’t handle being stranded ‘alone’ on a populated planet!” Growled Catra, laughing harshly at herself. “I was so disappointed when I found that out! I mean what does that mean for me? Or anyone who’s slogged it out in the trenches for decades in Hordak’s name? We didn’t follow some dipshit in another galaxy, universe, or whatever! We followed him! Believed all his stupid lies, dreamed his fucking made up dreams, and painted the whole world red with blood just to achieve them! And it wasn’t even for him!?”

“So no, I don’t deserve your father’s help! I didn’t when he first walked in here and I still don’t now!” Said Catra, breathing hard as she tried to stop herself from hyperventilating. “W-why is he even trying? I don’t get it! He- he talks about you all the time! H-he l-love’s you, right? A-and you were attacked because of… because of me!”

Miko’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. “No!? Aren’t you even going to try and convince me?”

Catra grimaced as she just barely managed to wrestle herself back under control. “W-why waste my breath? I’d be lying with every other word anyway.”

“So, then you’re exactly what they are saying you are then?”

“What are they saying?”

“That you’re a horde murderer machine, a baby snatcher, complicit in the destruction of Halfmoon and everyone who dared stand in your way.”

“I mean, I’ve never snatched babies,” snorted Catra, grinning to hide her plummeting spirits. Whilst before it hadn’t mattered in the slightest to her what other people said about her – or rather that’s what she liked to tell herself anyway – nowadays she was really starting to worry about what was going to be written on her headstone, if she even got one. If she hung for her crimes, so be it. But she really hoped that her obituary was at least something approaching the truth, rather than a bunch of convenient lies meant to make everyone feel better. There was a lesson to be learnt from this shitshow she called her life, and she wanted it to be something worthwhile, not that she had the slightest clue as to what that lesson might be.

“Have you not got anything to say in your defence?” Asked Miko incredulously, slowly moving other from where she’d been hugging the wall to stand over Catra from the other side of the interview table. “I saw your little speech at the end of your indictment, is that all there is to you? A person determined to meet their date with gallows? Do you want to die?!”

Oh, this was definitely Riko’s daughter. She had the same intensity, the same weird-ass drive to get her to want more to her life other than death. Catra wondered if it was genetic, this desire to ask her unending questions that seemed to continually push her incrementally away from the brink of that metaphorical cliff she’d been standing on the edge of from the moment she’d realised what Halfmoon was.

The question still somehow took Catra off guard however. Riko had yet to broach that particular subject out loud. Sure, they’d danced around it; many of Catra’s statements had earned herself more than a few worried glances from her lawyer over the past few weeks, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that after her first meeting with Riko her cell had noticeably been cleared of anything she’d easily be able to harm herself with. But Riko had still avoided stating anything outright.

“It’d certainly make things simpler, wouldn’t it?” Catra shrugged, internally wondering why for the first time in weeks, possibly years, she suddenly felt a sliver of disquiet at her own words.

Miko stared at Catra, a look of deep befuddlement on her face that spoke of someone who couldn’t quite wrap their head around what they were being told. She supposed that was to be expected however. Miko had almost everything Catra didn’t, and in her experience, people struggled to understand things that were too far removed from their own lived experience.

Eventually, Miko gathered herself and opened her mouth to respond, only to be cut off when, suddenly, the door to the interview room banged open and revealed an extremely harried looking Riko who frantically scanned the room before his gaze settled upon the startled looking form of his daughter stood on his side of the interview table.

“Hi Dad!” Chirped Miko, after a long moment of silence, during which the older Magicat seemed to steadily transition from worried, to relief, and then to what appeared to be mounting annoyance. “Look who I bumped into!”

Catra coughed to cover her snort of derision as she watched Miko seemingly try to feign innocence despite having clearly been caught red handed.

“Don’t you ‘Dad’ me, young lady!” Growled Riko, finally settling on a suitably stern look of disapproval that was only slightly undercut by how clearly relieved he was to have located his daughter. “I have been searching half this damned prison for you, Miko! I was worried sick! Chief D’riluth didn’t assign you a personal protection officer on my request, only for you to give them the slip at the first opportunity!”

Miko had the grace to look at least somewhat sheepish in the face of her father’s worry. “Ugh, I know, Dad, I’m sorry! But I wanted to speak to Catra alone, without officer killjoy following me around and making things awkward and weird!”

Catra watched, with mounting amusement, as Riko’s fur bristled in response to the decidedly surly tone his daughter was employing, letting a long-suffering sigh seemingly drawn from the depths of his soul.

“Need I remind you, Miko of why you needed a protection officer in the first place?” Riko retorted hotly, sending his daughter a pointed look that finally seemed to break through Miko’s petulant stance. “I know having someone follow you around all day isn’t ideal, but it is necessary. For both of us!”

Catra’s amusement suddenly vanished, bursting like a popped balloon at the realisation of what she was putting this family through, one that had already suffered consequences for their association with her. She’d understood that Riko had been putting himself in her shadow by being her lawyer, but she hadn’t realised the extent to which he’d put himself in the firing line by doing so. Guilt slowly began to strangle her as she shrank in her chair as the pair continued to bicker in front of her.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry, dad! It won’t happen again, ok?” Groaned Miko finally, looking appropriately chagrined, her hands thrust into her pockets and her tail hanging low and limp behind her. “I just wanted to get the measure of her without you hovering, and I’ve done that. So… I’m gonna go and wait outside.”

Riko, sighed heavily through his nose, before suddenly frowning. “And what of… did you make a decision regarding…?” He trailed off, glancing surreptitiously at Catra, a complicated and pointed expression on his face that Catra couldn’t quite decipher.

Miko paused for a long moment, her hand resting loosely on the door handle of the exit as she seemed to ponder her next words carefully. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be alright, stay with your client. I’ll see you at home after work. Bye, dad!” She turned the handle and stepped through the door, though before it shut behind her Miko poked her head back through and gave her father a fond smile. “I’m proud of you, dad! Love you!” She ducked out once more, only to pop back in a second later. “Oh, and Bethany’s coming over to help me catch up with the classes I missed yesterday, so knock before you come in to my room, ok?”

And then she was gone.

Catra watched as a range of emotions flickered across Riko’s face before it settled on a long-suffering expression poorly hiding quiet pride as he turned back to face Catra, finally taking the seat opposite her across the interview table. Now that he was close, Catra could see how unkempt her lawyer looked, his suit rumpled more so that usual and the presence of bags under his eyes that indicated poor or no sleep.

Guilt crawled up her throat once more, the hissing mantra scratching at the walls of her mind screeching ‘you did this, you did this, you did this’ over and over again as she noted how tired and worried the older Magicat looked.

Catra opened her mouth to say… something. She wasn’t really sure if apologies were even possible here, but she was quickly cut off by a raised hand from Riko, the Magicat silencing her with a stern look.

“None of that, Catra. It wasn’t your fault,” he stated sternly, fixing Catra with a no-nonsense glare.

“But-.”

“You cannot control the actions of others, Catra. Their actions were their own, and they will be punished for them, not you. Those thugs decided that your notoriety gave them a carte blanche to act violently and covered them from consequence. There are, and always will be, such people who try to take advantage of events to break the law and act cruelly. If it hadn’t been for this, they would have found another reason or another target.”

Riko paused, eyeing Catra carefully as she resolutely avoided meeting his eyes. Drumming his claws on the tabletop, Riko hummed thoughtfully, clearly deciding that Catra didn’t follow his logic.

“Do you think that your case is the first I have received threats of violence over?” He asked suddenly, causing Catra to finally pull her gaze away from the tabletop and meet his eyes.

Unable to trust her voice wouldn’t crack the moment she tried to speak, Catra nodded hesitantly.

“You are wildly incorrect, my dear,” huffed Riko, sending Catra an amused look. “Before I took your case, I’d received more than two dozen threats over the course of my career, over half of which were death threats. It’s a hazard of the trade, not least because my profession is one that draws out the truth. And for many, the truth is an inconvenient and often even painful thing to hear out loud, and some people will go to great lengths to prevent it from airing. Granted that number has more than doubled since I took on your case, but I assure you this is not my first rodeo, nor even the first time my family has been threatened because of my work.”

Catra stared at him for a moment, picking apart Riko’s wording having noted quite quickly that he had been choosing his words carefully in his little speech. “But it’s the first time someone has actually attacked Miko, isn’t it? Not just threatened.”

Riko grimaced at that, reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose tiredly as he seemed to ponder his next words. “Yes, I won’t lie to you, that is an alarming development. One that has certainly shaken me and caused my family a great deal of upset.”

Catra was unable to stop her face from falling at that, her eyes suddenly becoming strangle blurry and wet. She rubbed at them irritably with her hands, ignoring how damp her palms felt as she pulled them away. “Maybe… maybe you s-should drop my case?” She started, grunting to clear her throat that seemed to have taken on a strange waver. “If y-your family is in danger you should-.”

“Catra, I’m not going anywhere. The only person who could convince me to drop your case is currently on her way home to go and defile her university classmate under my roof under the guise of ‘studying’.”

The disturbed shudder and grimace that followed that statement was enough to startle a choked laugh from Catra. “But- but wouldn’t you be safer?”

“Probably, but it wouldn’t be right, would it?” Shrugged Riko, giving Catra kind look that somehow also brooked no more argument. “Now, I think it’s time we ate some lunch, don’t you think? Then we can get on with the days trial preparation. We’re a little behind thanks to yesterday’s dramatics, but thankfully Judge D’redd has given us another day to prepare,” he said, pointedly pushing the tuna sandwich across the table towards Catra as he reached into his briefcase to withdraw his own meal.

Catra stared at the sandwich, reaching out with shaking fingers as she dragged it towards her and tore open the cellophane with her claws, an unknown, but exceedingly warm emotion settling in her chest. It didn’t make sense to her, not even slightly, that Riko was staying. No one else had, so why should he?

But inexplicably, against all logic, he was still here. Today had been a scare, one that Catra had in all honesty let herself relax enough to not expect, which worried her. She didn’t have the luxury of hope. Hope was a dangerous thing. People always let her down eventually, and the minute she let herself hope for more was the minute everything would be taken from her once again.

But, despite herself, despite every instinct screaming at her not to risk it, she couldn’t help but hope that this time will be different. That this time she’d found someone willing to stay.

Harold Pinkfoot sniffed loudly and wetly as he sat down heavily in his chair, earning himself a disgusted look from his colleague on the opposite desk in the Halfmoon Police Department’s forensics lab.  Setting his coffee down, he sniffed loudly through his cold stuffed nose once more, this time on purpose just to irritate his colleague further, before glancing down at the new package sat on his desk.

“What’s this?” He asked, picking up the package and glancing over to his bored looking colleague who was currently staring at some ballistics evidence brought in from the night before.

“What’s what?” His colleague asked, not looking up from his work.

“This,” Grunted Harold, waving the package in exasperation, sniffing loudly once more as soon as his colleague looked over.

Wrinkling his nose is disgust, his colleague shrugged before turning back to his work. “I dunno, got dropped off by a courier after you went for your break. Probably evidence though.”

Huffing, Harold flipped off his entirely unhelpful colleague before pulling out a hanky and blowing his nose loudly, the sound not unlike an elephant with a cold attempting to de-clog a drain with its trunk, causing his colleague to grimace heavily on the other side of the room and shift a couple of inches further away from the ‘plague victim’ they were currently sharing a lab with.

Pocketing the hanky, Harold turned his attention back to the package and pulled out some scissors to slit it open. Pulling out the contents, he quickly read through the note stapled to the exterior of the sealed see through bag containing what looked like a vial of blood.

“Oh, shit!” He exclaimed, his brows shooting skyward as he turned his eyes back to the vial with renewed interest.

“What is it?” His colleague asked, still not looking up from their work.

“This is that Horde soldier’s blood sample! They want us to DNA test it, find out if that bitch has any living relatives!”

“Woah, really?”

“Yup, there’s a rush order on it too. They want it pronto.”

His colleague whistled, his attention now thoroughly on the vial in Harold’s hands. “Damn, I wouldn’t want to receive that paternity test in the mail!”

“Yeah, no argument’s there. I’m not sure what’s worse, my kit being dead, or alive and a Horde soldier!” Responded Harold, shaking his head, before suddenly dropping the vial onto his desk and violently pivoting to the side with a full body sneeze.

“Stars above, man. If you gonna sneeze like that either were a mask or go home and sweat out whatever plague virus you’ve contracted in peace. At this rate your gonna contaminate every sample we have in the lab!”

“Alright, alright! I’m putting a mask on, happy?”

“No, I don’t want whatever strain of super cooties it is you’ve got. It’s beyond gross.”

Snapping on a disposable mask and sending his colleague a half-hearted glare, Harold turned back to the vial. Picking it up he eyes the liquid, his curiosity rising as he looked on the glass container like it was some kind of disturbing puzzle. “You know, maybe it’d be kinder if I did contaminate it. Save whatever poor sod that monster is related to the pain of knowing.”

“For all you know, they could be dead. A lotta people died during the purge. Odds are their family was amongst them.”

“True,” sighed Harold, shaking his head and walking over to the fridge where they store all their blood samples, checking the labels and logging the vial in the lab’s records. “But unfortunately, I love science too much to tamper with evidence like that. Plus, it ain’t my decision. Chief Driluth ordered this herself, and considering the warpath she’s been on the last two days it ain’t worth my job to fuck this up!”

“Front of the que then? Special treatment for the Horde?” Grumbled his colleague, a sour look on his face.

“Oh, fuck no!” Snorted Harold, putting the vial towards the back of the fridge. “Do you know how many blood samples have a ‘rush order’ on them? Almost all of them! Every detective in this station want’s a ‘rush’ on their samples, basically makes the term meaningless. So, I’m not getting to that one until the end of the week at the earliest!”

“Nice… well, as long as the chief doesn’t notice you dragging your feet, at least. Given the mood she's been in lately, she’ll probably tear your balls off and mount them above the precinct's front door as a warning if she thinks you’re going against orders.”

“… I’m putting it to the front of the cue.”

“Coward.”

“What do you want from me?!”

“To get your mangy, diseased arse out of this lab so I don’t catch whatever version of super rabies you’ve contracted from your visits to the pleasure district.”

“…there’s no need to be a dick, dude.”