Disclaimer: I do not own She-Ra or its related characters. All is the property of Noelle Stevenson, Dream Works Animation, Netflix, NBCUniversal Television Distribution, Filmation, Larry DiTillo, and J. Michael Straczynski.

The Way Things Are:

He was the only clone in his crèche hatched fresh from the cloning tank with marks on him. On the inside of his forearm. A series of small, interlocking marks that looked almost like they could have been the characters of some foreign written language. But there was no such language in the databanks of the Horde Empire.

The marks by themselves were a defect and Horde Prime had a very strict 'No Defects' policy when it came to his clones. But he was designed for a position of rank, to be one of Horde Prime's four generals, and as much as the Emperor of the known universe did not tolerate deficiencies, he equally did not tolerate incompetence. Allowing defects to form on clones meant for his ruling cabinet would definitely be considered incompetence. It was as much the cloning staff's lives at state as it was the clone's.

Batch-10042-Subject-003 was instructed by the cloner-scientist who hatched him to keep the marks covered. Wear a rash guard or long sleeved undergarments. Most armors covered the arms anyway, but Horde leadership did not always wear armor all the time.

He finished the physical training that paired with the programing he received in vitro, was elevated to the rank, title, and responsibilities he was born to hold. A clone elevated to a rank of command was also allowed to choose his own name. A designation that offered identity beyond just the number he was assigned at fertilization.

10042-003 became Hordak.

Everything seemed right with the world. Hordak held the position he was created for. At the right hand of his genetic template. He was the hand –and the fist- of the single most powerful being in all worlds.

…Until other deficiencies of his cloning became apparent. Defects far worse than just a few darkened skin pigment marks on his arm. Weak, sensitive skin. Inexplicable bruising. Shortness of breath. Inexplicable pain in his back and joints. Inexplicable pain in his muscles. Fainting spells.

For the most part, Hordak managed to hide these deficiencies for almost an entire standard Imperial year –roughly eight-thousand and seven-hundred hours.

That is, until Hordak failed to manage his condition and ended up fainting in the middle of a strategy meeting.

There was no hiding it from Horde Prime after that. 10042-003, personal designation: Hordak was stripped of his rank, position, the power and privilege that went along with them. He was given the battle armor and weapons of a common grunt soldier and sent to serve in the vanguard on the front lines on some rebellion or another. There was always at least one so called 'Resistance' or 'Rebellion' going on in the Empire. Hordak thought the name of the planet was 'Eternia' but he wasn't sure. He stopped paying attention halfway through the briefing.

He stopped caring. What did it matter? What was the point if he was just going to die there anyway?

But then, something wholly unexpected happened on that far away and ambiguously magical world.

In the thick of battle. Adrenaline running high. Blood spraying. Lasers flying. Beings screaming. Bodies falling. –So many bodies!- In all the confusion, Hordak was blinded by a light. He never saw its source. He only saw that it was blinding. Then felt the inexplicable sensation of falling.

At first he thought it was another fainting spell. He was going to pass out in the midst of battle. Could there be any more humiliating and shameful a death for a Horde Clone?

But, inexplicably, he did not faint. He did not pass out. There was no lapse in memory. Hordak found himself standing on another world entirely. Similar to Eternia, but still noticeably different.

The flash of light and falling sensation wasn't a fainting spell. It was a portal. Somehow, 10042-003-Hordak had fallen through a gateway between worlds. He was no longer on the front lines of some nameless rebellion. …But he was also lost and cut off from the rest of the Empire. He might still be alive, but he would never see home again. He would never redeem himself in the eyes of his Emperor and older brother. He might as well have just died. The end result was the same.

Some unreadable marks on his arm were the least of his concerns.

…

Everyone in Etheria had a soul mate.

Their soul mate's name was written on their skin at the moment of their birth. Always their true name, not a nickname, or an alias, or a nome deplume. Never with any titles. No 'Princess', or 'Sorcerer', 'Captain', 'Chief', 'Lady', etc. Just their name.

Entrapta was no exception to this rule.

The thing with Entrapta's mark was that… it wasn't a name.

Entrapta's soul mark was a string of numeral.

Not even Etherian numerals either.

Everyone knew of the Evil Horde. She didn't pay much attention to them over all. For the vast majority of her life, Dryl had been left alone. The Horde focusing on more proactive or strategically valuable Queendoms like Bright Moon, or Salineas, and leaving Dryl pretty much alone. Entrapta spent most of her time absorbed in her personal research on First Ones' tech.

But she was aware of the Horde. Could recognize their written language and their numeral. It was Horde numerals her soul mark was written in.

10042-003

She found this fascinating. And also mildly exciting. What if her soul mate were a robot!?

But for the most part, she didn't think about it.

If they truly were her soul mate, she would cross paths with them some day. That was the whole point of soul mates, after all. There was so much more interesting stuff to learn about!

…

They were supposed to be rescuing Glimmer. Entrapta did not forget or lose sight of this fact.

But they were in the Fright Zone, and the Horde has so much interesting tech to study! But more than that, they were in the Fright Zone where Horde language and Horde numerals were used. Where Horde writing and Horde numerals were the official language and numerical system.

Maybe this was when she was going to meet her soul mate!

Entrapta almost never thought of her soul mate on a daily basis. On a daily basis they did not affect her or her interests. But here, in the place that was the very origin of her soul mark… it was hard not to think about it!

And the Fright Zone was full of robots!

Sentries. Combat bots. Custodial bots. Kill bots. Medics. Spy bots.

Somewhere. One of them. Here in the Fright Zone. One fo them had a number that matched the one inscribed on Entrapta's arm.

She thought Emily might have been her soul mate. Entrapta checked every number she could find on the Horde bot. Serial number. Vin number. Model number. Registration number. None of them matched the number written on Entrapta's arm. Most of them weren't even the right number of digits, or the correct configuration. Five digits, separated by a dash, then three digits.

…

For a short time –a very short time- Entrapta entertained the idea that maybe her soul mark wasn't a robot's number, but maybe a soldier's Private designation. After all, the Horde employed child soldiers. People who had names, but those might have be names they gave themselves (after all, what cat-person parents would name their cat-daughter 'Catra'?). Child soldiers born in the Horde might have been given numerical designations instead of names.

Entrapta dismissed this idea rather quickly.

She did not click with any of the people she met in the Horde. At least, not well enough for them to be her soul mate.

…

She did click very well with Hordak. Remarkably well, in fact. Better than she'd ever clicked with anyone before.

Entrapta always had trouble understanding people, forming connections, and making friends. But things were so easy with Hordak. They didn't waste time on social niceties she didn't understand. Or talk about ethics and morality as if they were life and death matters. They just focused on their experiments.

What was important to her was important to Hordak too.

Science!

She didn't even care that his name was Hordak, and not some random string of numbers. Her soul mate never seemed to preoccupy her before. Entrapta allowed it to fall back to the peripheral of her mind. Something she was aware of, but didn't think about. Maybe she was just one of those rare individuals that wasn't meant to meet their soul mate. Maybe they'd have better luck next lifetime. It wasn't a big deal. It didn't affect her.

There was so much other stuff going on for her to focus on, anyway!

Other dimensions! Alternate universes. Other planets. Other races!

Who cared about a dumb soul mate anyway?

…

The revelation that Hordak was not from Etheria at all but an alien from another dimension was amazing. And made a lot of sense. And explained why the Fright Zone used a different language than the rest of Etheria. Why they had a different writing system, and used different numerals.

The idea flashed through her mind that maybe she hadn't found her soul mate in the Fright Zone was because they were in the other dimension. Someone out in the wider universe. Operating under the Emperor, Horde Prime.

Then Entrapta made a new exo-suit to replace Hordak's cybernetic implants and armor.

When they took off his old armor to replace it with the new exo-suit, she caught sight of his arm.

The inside of his forearm. Written in Etherian characters. Looping and interlocking. Elegant calligraphy, as if inscribed by a hand taught by royal tutors. It was Entrapta's own name.

"You're a clone." She repeated, a hypothesis forming in her mind. A hypothesis, not a conclusion. Entrapta was a good scientist and a good scientist never jumped to conclusions.

"As I've already explained." His tone sounded annoyed when he said this, but he was smiling like a fool. Lifting heavy equipment and moving it around the lab for not other reason except that he could.

"Are clones given names when they're… born?" She aksed. "Or do you just have serial numbers."

"They are not serial numbers. We have batch numbers, then a numerical designation for what individual in the batch we are." He explained, not understanding why he seemed to just inexplicably answer all her questions so easily when he was so carful and guarded with every other being on this Prime-forsaken world. "Why do you ask?"

Entrapta was not usually one to hesitate. Discovery always excited her. She reveled in new knowledge. But, this discovery was different. This discovery wasn't a revelation about the fundamental truth of the universe. This was personal. This was about her. This was about them. Entrapta took a deep breath, steeling herself for what would have to be an inevitable rejection. After all, all of her previous soul mate candidates had proven false. Why should Hordak be any different?

"Is your numerical designation 10042-003?"

Hordak just gaped at her. His glowing ruby eyes wide with disbelief. No suspicion. Just pure, undiluted shock. "How could you possibly know that?"

Face feeling hot, Entrapta knew she had to be blushing. Blushing more than she'd ever blushed in her life. She peeled off one glove and rolled up the sleeve of her rash-guard to reveal the Horde numeral that had been inscribed on her arm since the time of her birth.

Hordak just stared at his clone designation. That was his batch number. That was his individual designation. He looked down at his own arm. The exo-suit was covering it now, but Hordak had a mark of his own. A mark written in Etherian script. He looked back up at Entrapta.

"It's my name you've got written on your arm too." She informed him. "I saw it when I was fitting you for the exo-suit."

He looked down at his arm again, as if he could see the marks through the exo-suit. He had been staring at it almost form the moment he hatched from his tank. He could picture it clearly in his mind's eyes. The interlocking characters, with complicated but elegant loops. An alien script he'd never seen before coming to Etheria, but had seen many, many times since his impromptu arrival. He pictured the letters and matched them up with how he imagined her name was spelled.

Hordak did not meet her eyes when he asked his next question. He'd had the mark since long before he came to Etheria. Since the moment he was hatched. What sorcery was this? "And what does this mean?"

Entrapta smiled at him. One of her dazzling, 'imperfection is beautiful' smiles. Except less bubbling affection, and more gentle, soothing balm.

"Nothing." She told him. "It doesn't mean anything different for us that what we're already been doing together."

Hordak was skeptical that that was the whole truth. But he also enjoyed things the way they were, so he was willing to leave it at that. Nothing need change between them. They were fine just the way they were.

…

END