Art: "Going to Battle" by ShadowReader29

⚠️Trigger warning: This chapter contains references to Carmen's rape as a way of showing how her trauma affects her in the present day. If that's not for you, feel free to skip the second scene of this chapter. ⚠️

How wrong I was about this fact. But you see, this is what happens with familiarity. Once, my colleagues laughed in my face for suggesting the Horde came from beyond Etheria. Back before you were conceived, the thought that Etheria was one in trillions of planets was ridiculous, and it still goes unchallenged in many traditional perspectives of academia.

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Nell sat at a table that evening in Erelandia, sipping on chilled cinnamon tea and watching the room for the contact Shadow Weaver was due to meet with. His task was simple, according to Micah: get a handbook about iridulium's properties, and bring it back.

Micah, however, expected Nell to steal the thing. Fair enough, Nell thought. They probably hid secrets about iridulium from the royalty. Nell wasn't sure whether that was even legal, but Angella and Micah wanted his help. So he would do what he could.

"Mister?" a voice asked. Nell's attention snapped up from his drink to a small felinetta, clad in a tuxedo and a black headband. A huge white rose lay nestled on the headpiece, and an easy smile rested on her face as she sat next to him.

Nell frowned; he'd seen her before. "You're Shadow Weaver's felinetta." His voice wavered by a small degree. "Did she send you here?"

A pause. "Naw," Carmen said. "Did'ja think we just work all day?"

Nell met her electric blue eyes, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "I assumed you would take over her duties, since Micah cracked her ribs. She was hurt poorly, from what I heard."

"You're a doctor, yeah?"

"How did you know?"

Carmen shrugged. "My lady spies on everyone," she said simply, as if it was a normal thing. "She knows you by name. Nell, yeah?"

Nell's stomach grew cold; he didn't answer the question. "I am a doctor for the Rebellion," he said with a shrug. "But I don't consider Shadow Weaver's ailment to be my business."

"But don't it bother you, at least a little, that she's hurtin'?"

"I care more about the Delvalian lives lost in battle," Nell replied.

Carmen shrugged. "Weird folk you are." She took a huge swig of beer, and Nell scooted away, running his fingers along his scarred forearms. He never liked beer, and he couldn't stand the scent of alcohol, not again...

Nell sighed. "You're the one drinking beer at a fancy party. Where'd you even get that? All they're serving at the bar is wine."

Carmen shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I'd say it matters if you're stealing and working for an authoritarian colonizer," Nell muttered.

"And you're not?"

A chuckle burst through Nell's throat. "Micah? He's my friend, and he's a bloody better man than Hordak. You're the ones who attack us, not the other way around."

"Really?" Carmen asked from her glass. "My lady's right secretive with me, but I ain't gonna pretend her life was peachy under your Rebellion either."

"Micah couldn't have been responsible for that. He was only seventeen when he came."

Carmen chuckled. "Nell, I ain't smart enough to debate 'bout all this. I'm just here for the ride." Her eyes passed to his scars. "What're those from?"

A cold chill raced through Nell, and his cheeks burned as he covered his arms. "As if I'd tell you."

"I ain't judgin'," Carmen said, rolling up her sleeve and showing him her forearm. Six careful, precise scars were slashed into her skin. "You a Kryteyan? I ain't never seen your species in our ranks, but then, some heretical sects're right free with their membership."

"I'm not religious," Nell murmured. "And if your faith encourages you to harm yourself, that's awful."

Carmen frowned, pulling her sleeve up again and resting her chin in a hand. "You think you can tell God he's evil?"

"I don't really know what I'd tell God," Nell said honestly – he couldn't bring himself to hate her. "Maybe that he isn't as loving as he says."

She tilted her head. "Lovin'? I ain't gonna say God's lovin', Sir Nell. But he can love and hate whoever he wants, yeah?"

"If you say so."

"Then I don't see why havin' a priest mar me for servitude's wrong."

"I don't know why I'm talking to you," Nell replied, looking around the room for the boss. "I have an actual job to do."

"But I wanna talk to you," Carmen said. "I don't got friends back home, besides my lady."

"Shadow Weaver has friends?" Nell chuckled.

Carmen swigged more of her beer. "Well, yeah. She's a person too, y'know."

"Surprising."

"Is it?"

Nell paused, surprised at her quick responses. He was used to thinking of Kryteya as a cult – that was what he'd been told in Mystacor. The felinettas couldn't think for themselves, especially since they'd been indoctrinated with the belief that they were sinful beyond redemption. But Carmen was...smart. Odd, maybe, but smart.

"I don't know," he decided to reply. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have duties to attend to. Good day, Lady Carmen."

She replied with a simple tilt of the head as he walked away.

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That's the one, Carmen thought as Sir Nell left. Shads hadn't fully recovered from her broken ribs, or she herself would have come on this assassination. Carmen's task was killing the businessman – stopping him from divulging his secrets to the Rebellion.

After their conversation, she was relieved that her orders weren't directed at Nell.

I gotta act quickly. She'd had hidden sheathed knives in her bra before she came. Shads had been worried that they would pat Carmen's chest for weapons, but it seemed Meyans were more trusting of foreigners than the Horde.

Carmen scanned the area, walking nonchalantly up the stairs to get a good view of Nell's curly mop. She didn't have magic, but as a felinetta, her muscles were built differently than that of Nell's species. The force of her jump would be enough to land down and slit the man's throat.

Thankfully, it wasn't the shy Del she was after, but the man Nell was talking to. Carmen had killed before, but each time, it made her sicker. People were great. It shouldn't be her place to take a life.

But Shads had ordered it of her, and she obeyed her mistress, so Carmen pulled a knife from her bra. In a flash, she leaped forward off the railing, performing a graceful flip before leaping out and slamming her fist into the businessman's face.

They fell to the ground, and he grabbed her shoulders, clumsily trying to roll her over. The knife slipped, slicing his chin. People were screaming now, rushing to stop her from her task.

Carmen unsheathed the other knife as he pressed her to the ground, positioned on top of her. Her vision spun. It's not real. It's not real.

Jibril was not here. He was not on top of her, he was not whispering mockery in her ear, and he was not making her neck bleed with angry kisses...

Do it! Carmen's eyes filled with tears. And with a scream, she plunged her knives into the man's stomach. He coughed red onto her pink polo as he collapsed. Metallic scents stung Carmen's nostrils as she struggled to get up, her head faint and cold. As vice-like hands wrenched her off the floor, and she wiped sweat off her face with a bloodied hand, she caught Nell's gaze.

Horror rested in his eyes.

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Did you know...

- This chapter is very pivotal, because it incites Carmen's arc. I wanted to try to show the conflict between her convictions as a Kryteyan and her personal conscience. While I believe conscience is a God-given thing we all have, I think it can definitely be in conflict with other (sometimes very false) beliefs we may have.

- I also think this chapter is important foreshadowing for the Starwalker memories. You'll see what I mean later in the story.

Tell me what you think...

- How will Carmen deal with the conflict between her conscience and her religion?

- Where do you think Nell got his scars?