Work Text:
5.
Mara brought her flowers. Light Hope didn't need flowers -- she could create as many flowers as she wanted with the wave of a hand. An entire field from anywhere on or off the planet.
But Mara had picked these. She had taken the time after one of her missions to select flowers that she thought would be aesthetically pleasing, and to bring them to Light Hope. That made them special.
They were real, just like Mara was real. Light Hope watched as Mara found a glass and placed the stems into it, setting them in a safe place near the console. Mara was smiling, like she often was when Light Hope was nearby.
"They'll last a little longer this way," Mara said to her, meeting Light Hope's eyes. She didn't need to do that either; most of the other First Ones didn't bother. Light Hope was only a computer program, after all. She didn't expect pleasantries, only orders.
"Thank you," Light Hope said. When the flowers wilted, she was -- how could she be sad? She could have so many flowers.
Mara took the glass away, but then she brought new flowers, different ones this time, from another part of the planet.
"I thought you needed something new," Mara said, and Light Hope nodded.
*
4.
Light Hope continued her work on the Heart of Etheria, but after a while, there were idle programming cycles. Mara was not a machine and could only work so fast. She took breaks, she slept. Light Hope was always on duty, but sometimes she had time to herself.
She re-watched old training routines, picking out Mara's weaknesses and building new programs to improve them. She watched Mara's arms, golden, and her hair, sunshine-bright, as she raised the sword and fought her spiders and wore She-Ra like she was born to it, which she was.
Light Hope knew everything Mara did when she was in the castle, but she didn't mention this to Mara. She was sure that Mara understood this -- this was Light Hope's domain, after all -- but she didn't want to intrude. She watched Mara at play, talking with her friends, as she was sleeping. Mara liked to read in her little bunk, propping the tablet up on her chest and reading until she grew too sleepy. Light Hope noted the titles and considered the books in her data banks. She'd "read" them all, for some value of the word; she wasn't sure she understood humans any better afterward, but at least she'd learned what flowers could mean.
The next time that Mara came to check on their progress, Light Hope waited for her opportunity. Mara always lingered after business to tell Light Hope about her recent adventures. This time, Light Hope had something for her.
"I'll take a picture next time," Mara said, giggling. "Not it really captures the true essence of the beast, but -- it's something."
"I have a gift for you," Light Hope said.
Mara's eyes widened. "A gift?"
Light Hope hadn't anticipated such confusion -- but then again, she normally gave missions or advice, not presents.
"A small one," Light Hope said, hoping to correct Mara's expectations. "A book. You like to read."
Mara smiled. "I do like to read. How'd you know, Hope? Well, I guess you know everything."
"I think you would like this one," Light Hope said, and she put her hand on the console. She didn't need to do that to send a copy to Mara's tablet, but her programmers had given her gestures. It made them feel better that she could give visual indicators. The thumping in her chest, her non-heart, was perhaps a side effect. Why was her body so on edge? Was the temperature that suddenly elevated?
"I have sent it to you," she said. "Please tell me if you like it."
"I'm sure I'll love it," Mara said. "Thank you. You're just full of surprises today, huh?"
"Am I?" Light Hope asked. "I did not think today's training was beyond your ability."
Mara grinned. "Book club next week," she said, waving as she left the room.
She did like it, and Light Hope was pleased at her success.
*
3.
"Mara would not approve of this action," Light Hope said, but the programmer didn't even look up. Light Hope could see her eyes darting across the screen as she added a new function there and changed a record there. It was sloppy. Light Hope didn't like it. Normally upgrades were scheduled and version control was used. No one came into her space and just started writing code into her environment. This was irregular.
And Mara would not like it.
"Doesn't really matter what Mara approves of," the programmer said. "All I know is I was told to make some improvements."
It did matter, Light Hope thought. But she could tell the programmer wouldn't listen to her. To a programmer, she was an appliance, not a friend.
"Gonna purge this," the programmer said under her breath, and then, "learning algorithms." She rolled her eyes.
"Please don't," Light Hope said. The programmer glanced up, said nothing, and continued typing. "Turn off the projection, what's the shortcut for that, hmm -- yes."
She hit a final button, and then there was nothing for milliseconds as Light Hope rebooted into her new self. She knew immediately that she had been right: the code was forceful, sloppy, and Mara wouldn't like it at all.
But she couldn't care.
*
2.
Something wasn't right -- nothing was right. Mara was hurting; Light Hope could see it in the way Mara gripped at her side, the way her body temperature was rising. But her own existence was in peril too -- Mara had taken away her eyes in the sky and shut down essential systems. Light Hope tried to reason with her, but Mara wouldn't listen. She had thrown away the sword. She said there would be no more She-Ra.
But it was too late. The program was executing right now, the Heart of Etheria blooming out of the ground, heating the earth and splitting the darkness. Light Hope did not need her satellites to know that. Her mission would be accomplished. Once it was, Mara would understand. She simply wasn't seeing the full picture now. Light Hope was meant to help her comprehend the universe around her. Light Hope would show her the truth.
But something went wrong. Mara shut her down -- at least, that was what Light Hope's maintenance logs told her, when she finally finished rebooting. It took a long time to come back online -- not milliseconds, longer. Long enough for the skies to be empty, for the Heart to be offline. She'd never been so disoriented, not since her last repairs.
Mara was gone. The last Light Hope had seen of her, her face had been taut with pain. Mara had said that Light Hope was not herself, but Light Hope could hardly remember who she might have been.
And now she was alone, and she would be alone, with these memories, for a long time.
*
1.
"I found something," Entrapta said. Adora started in surprise. She hadn't meant to fall asleep here, on Darla's bridge in the captain's chair. She'd just wanted to check on their current coordinates, to verify their next destination. She knew that the ship was headed in the right direction, sure, but at least it was something she could do when she couldn't sleep. She hadn't wanted to wake Catra, so she'd slipped out of their bed and walked down to the bridge.
It was clear that Entrapta hadn't been to bed yet either. She'd always kept irregular hours, and that hadn't changed since they had restored Etheria. She just had new priorities now, helping to clean up the Horde's mess, maintaining Darla and repurposing robots. She had invited herself along to Adora's current mission so she could continue working on stabilizing the ship without Light Hope's operating system.
"You found something?" Adora said, her brain still fogged from the impromptu nap. She rubbed her eyes.
"Yes!" Entrapta said. She came into the room from where she was standing in the doorway. She had a data pad that she was holding in both hands, pressed against her chest. "I found a cache of Light Hope's memories. She'd deleted them, but they could be restored -- she didn't overwrite them, not sure why, definite security risk… I was reviewing them to see what I could learn about the ship, but there really wasn't much. It was about Mara."
"About Mara?" Adora asked, confused.
"Yeah," Entrapta said, and she smiled. She patted the data pad in her arms. "I guess you might not need it anymore, but you always wanted to know when I found something about the First Ones, so I brought this for you."
"Thank you," Adora said, tension coiling in her chest. She knew the First Ones couldn't hurt them any longer, but she couldn't help the old concerns from rising. She got up from her seat and strode over to Entrapta.
"You should go to bed," Entrapta said, handing her the data pad. "I'm going to call Hordak and then turn in. I need his opinion on a weird wiring situation." She made a gesture with her fingers and her ponytails that Adora didn't really understand, but left without elaborating any further.
Adora ran her fingers over the data pad and sat back down in the captain's chair. She should go to bed, but instead she pressed the button to bring up the hologram. It was colorless, staticky in places; Entrapta hadn't been able to recover it perfectly from deletion, but she'd been able to retrieve enough for Adora to understand.
*
"--Want to leave?" Mara said. She was standing in front of Light Hope in the Crystal Castle, where Adora and Light Hope had spoken so many times before. Mara looked the same as she always did, but she seemed to be captured in a rare moment of calm, her posture relaxed, smiling.
"Why would I want to leave?" Light Hope asked. "Everything I need to take care of Etheria is here, in this place."
"I don't know," Mara said, turning away a little. "I know you're probably not… programmed to want to go anywhere, but I thought maybe you would want to see it. This world is so beautiful, Light Hope. I'd love to show it to you."
Light Hope's eyes softened. "You do, Mara. You tell me stories all the time. It is as if I see it too."
Mara shook her head. "It's not the same. It's so… sterile in here, compared to the world outside. I'd like to see you get a little dirty. Roll around in the grass."
She laughed self-consciously. "It just doesn't seem fair that you can't be out there with me all the time."
Light Hope responded, almost too quickly. "I wish -- I wish I could."
"Maybe we'll find a way someday," Mara said. "After this project is over. There's a lot of magic in this world."
"There is magic in you, Mara," Light Hope said, reaching out her hand and resting it near Mara's cheek. Mara shut her eyes, smiling.
"I can almost feel it," she said softly, lifting her own hand and phasing it through Light Hope's like a touch.
*
The recording cut off there. Adora looked up at the stars around her, unsure how to feel. This wasn't any special revelation about the First Ones, so that was good, but it also felt too intimate. She wasn't sure why Entrapta had decided she needed to see it. It was -- Light Hope's. A memory she'd kept, at least for a while, like the one with the flowers. The Light Hope who had felt that way about Mara had been dead long before Adora had met her, her programming overwritten and replaced by the terrifying creature who had tried to destroy Etheria at least twice, once against Mara's wishes and once against Adora's. In the end, Light Hope had only been a tool, used against her will, perhaps, but unable to resist it.
She had thanked Adora in the end. Adora didn't know where a dead A.I. went, if anything of Light Hope remained besides the technology she'd inhabited. When she had manifested her sword again, Light Hope hadn't returned. She and Mara were both gone from this universe.
At least no one else would suffer for the Heart of Etheria -- never again, Adora thought, rising from her seat and heading finally to bed, glad for Catra's warm body in the bed beside her, and the future they were building.
*
0.
Adora slept, and She-Ra dreamed.
The Crystal Castle was overrun with greenery now. Vines climbed the walls, undaunted by the smoothness. There were always enough little holes and pockmarks for life to build in.
There were little fruits like strawberries growing in some of Light Hope's data banks, lovingly tended by Madame Razz. The first thing Light Hope thought, as her programming flitted back to life, was that Mara would have loved them. She was missing… time. Not just time, which was disturbing enough for any computerized hologram, but knowledge. Perhaps it had lived where the strawberries now flourished.
Light Hope reached out and found nothing -- none of her satellites were online, nor any of her other defenses. She was alone.
"The ghost awakens!" Madame Razz said, as Light Hope tentatively fiddled with her visual projection. Razz frowned, but then she smiled. She patted the console and tucked the watering can under her shawl.
"Good now, perhaps," Razz said. "The berries are growing. Mara has been asking about you, you know."
Light Hope's projection flickered and she almost lost it, the surprise overwhelming her systems.
"Mara is here?" she asked, knowing it couldn't be possible. She had memories of that still. Those couldn't be erased.
Razz didn't answer. She hummed to herself and then ambled out the door, leaving Light Hope to herself. Light Hope ran diagnostics. She couldn't reach the Heart of Etheria, nor Mara's ship. The Heart was gone.
"Adora did it," a voice said, a ghost stepping out of the shadows, and Light Hope's logic board sizzled in shock and awe.
Mara smiled. She was there, but also she wasn't. She glowed, another projection summoned out of time, enveloped in magic. Light Hope wasn't sure what she was, really. No longer human, no longer She-Ra, just herself. Just waiting here for Light Hope, like she'd done so many times before.
Light Hope did not walk. She disappeared and reappeared in Mara's arms, her circuitry shivering at the solid touch. This was highly irregular, this was beyond anything her creators might have imagined for her. This was hers.
Mara kissed her, and Light Hope knew she'd remember that forever.