The Grand Scheme

The sun barely rises over Etheria on this cool, crisp morning. While there's never stillness in a place rich with as much life as Bright Moon, things are particularly quiet on this day. The animals, even the birds, are all still fast asleep in their burrows and nests. The only sound comes from a rustling of the soft wind amongst the blades of grass, and its sound is only perturbed by the quiet footsteps that press through them.

She isn't trying to be sneaky, there's not really much of a point with where she's going. Surely no one will be here this time of day. No, her silence comes from a natural place of serenity, the same kind of calm that allows these grounds to rest with the peace they deserve. It almost haunts Catra as she turns against the wind to look up to the archway of the castle cemetery, allowing herself to be humbled by this peace in a way few things ever have.

She learns to respect it instead of fear it though. She doesn't have anything to be afraid of, really. Nothing can hurt her here. No, any uneasiness comes from an almost darker place as she continues along these sacred grounds, her heart beating a little faster with every second. It comes from knowing that her past is never completely behind her, that her sins can never be entirely absolved. When she is dead and buried here, there will always be some memory of her crimes against the Rebellion. Always.

This isn't really about her though. It's about someone else right now as she passes every monument and headstone dedicated to the lives of the lost from the Rebellion's bravest and finest. Heroes of all shapes and sizes rest here, either in body or spirit. Soldiers, vanguards, even the sons and daughters that simply made their memory worth keeping alive from their homes in the kingdom. That humbling weighs down on her as she glances at their gravesites, her respect for them as solid as the stones in their honor.

Only one stops her on her way to her destination, though.

The thing about heroes is that they don't choose their graves. They only choose how they end up lying in them. They don't get to decide how big their monuments are or how many flowers are left on their grave, the loved ones they leave behind do that for them. In an almost unfair sort of way, the size of their monument measures how heroic they were to the people remembering them.

There isn't even a body buried beneath the biggest statue in the entire park. There are however flowers of every variety and color scattered along the grass around the stone, and even some speckled across the base of the statue molded in Queen Angella's image. Although they never actually met, Catra's seen her face in pictures around the castle. She's heard her name many times long before she was ever even welcome here. In a way, they knew each other better than some friends ever do.

And she knows that the reason she isn't here and this statue is… is because of her. Because of what she did.

All she can do is stare at the marble face of a fallen angel. Had it not been for her selfish desire to open Hordak's portal, no one would have gotten hurt. Glimmer would still have her mother. Micah would have come home to his wife. She wouldn't have to live with this terrible guilt knowing that it was all her fault. Sure, Adora and Glimmer have forgiven her. Everyone seems eager to forgive her and remind her of how much she's done to make up for her past mistakes.

She still isn't able to forgive herself though. Maybe she never will.

She takes a deep breath remembering that this isn't supposed to be about her though. There will be more time for self pity and sorrow later, and hopefully something more meaningful to work through these feelings. For now, she just rests a hand on the base of the statue, her eyes slightly watering as she looks up to the statue's face, then the sky. "I promise I'll make this right one day. For you. For Glimmer," she says before turning to make her leave. "And… I'll bring flowers next time…"

Her next stop isn't any easier. Maybe she's supposed to take the advice of her friends and just let go of the past, but she knows deep down that it isn't so simple. Heck, they even have to know. One doesn't keep ruining things for everyone and just come out clean just because they say sorry. It's so much more complicated. There's so much more that needs done.

At least she has the option to right her wrongs. One person doesn't. She made the ultimate sacrifice for her penance. The flashbacks of seeing Shadow Weaver unmask herself before becoming consumed by flames plays over in her mind's eye as she looks upon the grave of yet another casualty of the war. Another person who could still be alive if not for her, another body that isn't even buried because there was nothing to find.

The sad truth lies in what lies before her. There isn't a tall statue with flowers upon flowers. There's just one headstone set far aside from the others, one with a few red and black roses tokened around the canvas. There is a name carved on the stone, yes. But it's not the name Catra knows. It's a name from someone who fell long before she was even born. Light Spinner.

Light Spinner didn't nurture Catra when she was rearing. Light Spinner didn't teach her how to fight or how to stand up for herself, and she didn't harass her for never being as good as Adora. She didn't belittle her at every turn and make her think she was nothing but a disappointment, she didn't make her desperate for any sort of love and attention from anyone willing to share it. She didn't betray her time and time again, only to show up when it mattered most to say she was proud of her and then bite the bullet so she didn't have to.

Shadow Weaver did.

She doesn't cry. She doesn't feel angry or sorry at herself, she doesn't feel much of anything really. Instead, there's this strange numbness that comes over her as she slowly steps closer to the grave. She knows there's no body buried here. She knows that every trace of Shadow Weaver was washed away in flame back at the Crystal Castle. And yet… she feels her here. Maybe there's something illusory about the flowers and the headstone, or maybe she's always sort of with her and she just doesn't let herself feel it until now. But she senses her. She's here with her.

At least, she hopes so. Because she didn't come here to simply gawk at stones and bother the resting peace with her presence. No, she has a lot to say to the woman who raised her. The woman who made her who she is. She closes her eyes and draws a heavy breath, then has a seat on the ground close to the headstone.

"Hey Shadow Weaver," she starts, unsure what else to really even say. They didn't exactly exchange pleasantries back at the Fright Zone. The extent of their conversations was mostly the older woman barking orders and scolding at her. She tries to block out those memories though as she thinks of how to continue this… conversation. "So uh, things are going pretty good right now. Back at Bright Moon with the Princesses and stuff."

Obviously she expects no response. She's only here to speak, to be heard somehow. Even so, it makes it difficult to decide where to begin. There are so many thoughts and feelings that have stayed with her since the fateful day where everything changed back in the Crystal Castle. For every painful memory, there's confusion. This feeling that maybe she's been too stubborn to look at new perspectives for a very long time. There's resentment, but there's also… consideration.

All this time around princesses has made her soft maybe. But she's enjoying herself around them. They make her feel at home. Swaying with these thoughts, she thinks of somewhere to start again. Somewhere that might actually interest Shadow Weaver, assuming she's listening.

"Micah is doing alright. I see him around here and there and he's actually a pretty cool dude. I guess he hasn't seen me mess everything up like everyone else has so he doesn't have as much reason to judge me," she weakly laughs. "I only brought him up because, ya know…"

Why is this so hard? Even in death, Shadow Weaver is so tough to talk to. There's the image of her white, empty eyes scornfully staring. Disappointment, annoyance, resentment. Nothing is ever good enough. The difference is that now she can't say anything. She can't interrupt Catra to yell or throw in snarky comments. No, she's stuck listening to whatever she has to say.

She could say a lot of things. She could say how she's been so angry for such a long time, or how she's been made to feel inadequate, like she's broken beyond repair. She could bring up all the times she hurt her, things big and small… But she doesn't want to. Where she could be hateful, instead she feels this sorrow. For her, for herself, for everything.

"I've been trying. I don't know how well I'm doing but everyone says I'm doing alright. I guess it's hard to trust people actually liking me for once but… I'm working on it."

In a way, she's afraid that the words won't be heard, even if they somehow can be. Like Shadow Weaver would just turn and ignore her, completely disinterested in whatever she might have to say. Yet, she feels compelled to say everything she feels. Everything. The little things that come to mind and make her laugh, and the big things she's carried with her for years. The things that didn't kill her and made her stronger. Maybe there's an interest, maybe there's not. Either way, she finds it easier to just say whatever comes to mind with more time to sit and take in the crisp morning air around this empty grave.

"Perfuma, the plant chick, she's been teaching me some meditation techniques and stuff. I thought it was pretty stupid at first. But, I gave it a try, and I kind of like it. It's nice."

"I've been trying to be a better friend to Scorpia. We have this thing where we get together once a week or so and just play games. I thought that would be stupid too, but it's actually fun. She's awesome."

"Adora joins us sometimes. And Entrapta. I've been trying to be better to her too. She's weird, even weirder than the rest of them, but she means well."

"Hordak still gets the cold shoulder a lot. I guess I should be grateful people at least pretend to like me…"

There comes a point where she stays silent. She says nothing for a few minutes, instead just looking at some of the flowers on the ground. Unlike some of those gifted to Angella, none of these are fresh. They were all laid here around the same time, and no one has come since. In a way, it makes her a little angry. More so, it makes her sad. Not only because Shadow Weaver has so few people to miss her, but because she can't really blame everyone who doesn't.

She could keep going on about the princesses and all her new friends, reminding herself and the voiceless woman she speaks to how good things are supposed to be now. She could just up and leave, choosing to realize that nothing she says probably even matters. Instead, she finally succumbs to this churning in her gut, this twisting in her heart. If there's anything to really say to Shadow Weaver, she should tell her now.

"Look… I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. I guess I just feel like… like maybe you're looking after me, somehow? Like, somewhere in the grand design and stuff? I don't know. I've never been the grand scheme type…"

She freezes. All those bad memories flood her mind. All those feelings of fear, insecurity, and inadequacy plague her like a sickness. There are so many things she could go off on, so many negative feelings she could explode with.

But suddenly, there's a chill. Something in the wind that makes her break from her trance. She disregards her inner torment enough to have a quick look around, and when she turns behind her, she realizes something. She really isn't alone.

The tip of a red boot sticks out from behind a monument, and then a hand, and then a familiar pale face. It's the face of the only other person who could even begin to understand Catra's feelings, the face of the girl she grew up with in the Fright Zone. The girl who knew Shadow Weaver. The woman who stood by her side as they watched the woman who raised them burst into flames. The woman she loves.

Realizing she's been caught, Adora steps all the way out from the stone. The look on her face is as piteous as anything she's ever seen, and her tone is just as sympathetic as she speaks up. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I just- I saw you weren't home and-" she freezes as she stares back at Catra. The heartbreak is written all over her face. The years of pain just won't seem to forgive. No matter what she does, Shadow Weaver follows her.

There's a very big part of Adora that wants to just run over and hug her. To hold her and tell her that things will be okay. But… Catra won't want that. She knows from the look in her eyes that this isn't her place to be her hero. She came here to be alone, to say what she needs to say and feel what she needs to feel. Maybe there's something Adora could do to make it easier, but she doesn't want to make things worse.

Realizing this, she decides to just leave her. If she wants to talk about it, they can do it later. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone," she says, reluctantly turning to leave.

She doesn't get very far before hearing, "Wait." She turns to look to Catra, seeing the same agony ridden on her face. It's a quiet pain, not like the type she's come to expect from her over the years. She doesn't want to shout, she doesn't want to burst. Like everything else in this place, she's quiet with her feelings.

For a moment, she just looks to the flowers a little longer, taking in the poetic beauty of their wilting pedals. Her eyes are a little watery, but she doesn't cry. Finally, she's able to articulate her feelings into words again, the things she's been coming to terms with for so long now. For Shadow Weaver, for Adora, for herself...

"I don't hate her. I've tried and I've tried and I've tried, but no matter what, I just can't," she says. It doesn't matter how much she imagines her angry face, the two of them yelling back and forth about hatred and never caring. She can't bring herself to be angry right now. "Maybe it's because she actually did one good thing in the end, or because we're the queens of screwing things up-"

Hearing that makes Adora's heart sink. "Catra…" she quietly utters, but nothing further comes out. Not until she sees the way that her lover turns to her, her voice so weak and on the brink of tears.

"I am so scared," she tells her. There's so much going on inside at once that it's hard to keep composure. It's hard to find the things she really needs to say and do. While she didn't come here to dwell on her own mistakes, they always find a way to boggle her down again, following her around like the darkest shadow.

As quickly as she was convinced she could only get in the way, Adora now realizes that she can't do that. Not for the person she loves more than anything in the world. They made a promise to each other, and she refuses to ever go back on it again. "Why? Talk to me," she pleas as she steps towards Catra, doing everything she can not to reach out and wrap her arms around her.

As much as she'd love to look back to Adora's blue eyes, she can't. It hurts too much. She's been so good to her, so forgiving and understanding, and for what? It doesn't change that Shadow Weaver is gone, or Angella. It doesn't change that she's to blame for so many things that have gone wrong. Everyone tells her she's okay or that she's going to be okay, but there's still so much pain.

"I don't want to mess things up anymore," she tells Adora, and in a way, herself.

After everything they've been through, it burns Adora to see Catra still willing to give up on herself. All this sorrow and empathy she tries to feel for her, she selfishly hopes it can be enough to snap her out of it. At the same time, she just wishes she could hold her tight and steal her pain. All of it. The pain of burden and regret, the pain she feels for the fates of others, the pain she herself has caused her. And while she knows it isn't as easy as pressing a switch, she also knows that she can't keep her feelings to herself.

"Catra, listen to me. You've got to stop beating yourself up like this," she starts, taking her by her hand. Slowly, Catra looks to her eyes now. It's still painful, but she owes Adora this much. And… it's good to have her here. It's good to know she loves her. "You've made mistakes. Okay? But you're here now. You're with me again. We all love you and want to help you. And I know you feel the same way about us. About me," she finishes with a little smile.

Yes, there's mostly pain. And there's a lot of it. But there's good stuff too. Being here with each other in such a beautiful, peaceful place, free from the imprisonment of the Fright Zone's oppressing air and the burdens of war…

It's easy for Catra to boggle herself with all those terrible feelings. With Adora by her side though, she gets the strength to remember her place in the world now. It really isn't about her. It's about her new friends and doing what she can to be there for them. It's about moving on from the past and helping create a brighter future. That much is not easy, but she knows it's very well worth it.

She squeezes Adora's hand a little tighter as a weak laugh escapes her. "I'm trying. I'm doing the best I can," she tells her before looking to Shadow Weaver's headstone. "I just… I worry that it's not enough…"

Adora quietly takes it in, her own flashbacks of a past under Shadow Weaver flooding her mind. She has plenty of reasons to be angry too, for herself and for Catra. But before she can become too willing to slip into these feelings, Catra looks back to her, a timidness to her pain now. "It's not all her fault," she begins, doing her best to show with her eyes that it's okay not to be angry. Adora sees it, and when it's clear to her, Catra looks back to the headstone, studying the mental images of Shadow Weaver. The good times. "She may have treated us like shit, but she took care of us, you know? In a messed up way… everything that happened… at least we're together because of it."

Silence falls over them now. There's still so much that could be said about the past, but they don't dwell on it now. Not the bad parts, anyway. Instead, they just stand together holding hands, feeling the cool winds pick up speed a little around them. There's always going to be pain and regret, and they both know it.

Just as much as they know that their love is not so fragile.

Adora puts on a soft, warm smile as she turns to Catra. She looks back to her, an almost surprised look on her face to see such a pleasant expression. "You mean everything to me. You know that, don't you?" Adora tells her as she brings her free hand to her face, bringing her close enough that their foreheads almost touch.

Catra decides to bring them together as she puts on her own smile, closing her eyes for a moment to really take in the exchange of compassion. "I better," she quips as she opens her eyes to gaze into hers. "Because I love you so much."

They smile at one another for a moment longer before breaking away to return their attention to the grave. They didn't know Light Spinner. They didn't know anyone except for the woman who raised them, for better or worse. While they know they'll never see her again, they know that she'll never really be gone either. And despite everything, they wouldn't wish any different.

Catra is the first to avert her eyes from the headstone as she sighs. "Let's get out of here. This is too depressing," she decides.

And maybe she's said everything she came here to say. Maybe she found some sort of closure, or at the very least something to help her keep moving forward. Even so, Adora wants to be sure that she's going to be okay. "Are you sure you're ready?"

She has to think about it for a moment. With so much to say and feel, she'll probably never fully feel comfortable leaving the past behind. For now though, she decides that this headstone is only a headstone. It's just a talisman made to honor a memory. As commendable as it is, she doesn't need it to remember Shadow Weaver. She doesn't need it to realize that she doesn't always have to think about her, either.

So she looks to the sky, taking a few seconds to remind herself that beyond her world, there is a grand scheme. There's beauty in life all around her, and there's purpose to being here. With Adora's hand in hers, she doesn't even have to question what it is.

She turns to smile at her. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Nothing more is said. They begin walking away from the gravesite, the wind following them as they huddle close to keep warm. They stay silent most of the way through the cemetery, choosing to respect the buried as they pass through. Eventually, they leave this place behind them though, and they're able to find reasons to smile and laugh together as they often do.

They don't forget the past, they never will. It shaped and molded them into the people they are. As bad as things could get sometimes though, they don't let that stop them. It might slow them down sometimes, but they always move forward. They always try harder to be better and live happier.

And while it would be easy for her to assume the worst, Catra decides that part of moving forward is forgiving. Not just herself, but Shadow Weaver. The woman she knows is watching over her.

As many of you probably know by now, I am a habitual liar. I promised that the next chapter would feature Frosta, but frankly I wanted to do this more lol. One, I wanted to publish another chapter asap so you guys won't move on with your lives and forget about me, and two, I was feeling angsty with all the stuff going on lately.

I apologize if all that angst came out of nowhere. The only thing I love writing more than fluff is angst :weary:

Anyway, I'm working hard to get the next chapter done. This story is still my top priority, even with some other things like DC Superhero Girls and that icky real life stuff coming up. So next time for sure, we'll see Frosta. And some other cool special guests. And called her a dumbface.

Hopefully the wait isn't too long, but until then, stay safe, and thanks so much for everything. You guys are capital A Awesome.