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Chapter Text

Adora plops on the grass and stares down, letting the ache sink in as her emotions start to as well. She-Ra may have mostly healed her superficial wounds, but Adora still feels today’s battle weighing down on her. Though the Failsafe was activated, she could still remember the feeling of its pulsating warmth freezing over as Prime’s virus took over her body, disabling it and her. So close to death, so close to failure, and close to losing Catra, who refused to leave. This time it would’ve been her fault if Catra had perished. She shudders at the thought and grips tufts of grass in front of her, trying to pull herself back into the present moment.

Catra, who was talking to Scorpia, turns to call her over and notices her pensive state. Over the last few weeks, Catra saw it was evident that her best friend had changed in the last three years without her. The Adora she knew was still there--warm and caring, perfectionistic yet reckless, and painstakingly heroic--but there was now something new, at least to Catra, hidden behind her small smiles and reassuring words. She saw it in her eyes as Adora gazed down at Catra’s small and shattered body in the brig after barely escaping Prime. It rested on her lips but never came out when she’d try to summon She-Ra, fighting through some inhibition. Under Mystacor, it made her tremble, as Shadow Weaver’s words tried to poison her and Catra’s thoughts. Later last night, she could see it overtake Adora as Catra pushed her away. It hurt her to leave, especially after seeing Adora quavering in and out of such a state, but Catra thought that Adora had chosen the Failsafe over her, and she fed off of that familiar feeling of anger. But once that fire burned out and all Catra was left with was a deep painful heartache, Adora’s trembling form resurfaced in her head, and she knew she had to go back. And when she finally reached her in the Heart, Catra could see Adora drowning in it as Prime’s virus sealed her in shut--shuddering her breaths, draining her livelihood, tremors in her hands, and a decided resignation sinking into her face--and Catra didn’t know how to pull her out of it or what it meant. All she knew was that it was a pensive and deep fear, a reservedness, that Adora never shared with anyone. Whatever it was, whatever thought caused Adora that much unease and inner turmoil over the past weeks, it was dangerous and would harm her. At that moment, Catra refused to leave her again, even if it killed her--which, at the time, seemed to be their fate. 

And now she can see remnants of it grazing across Adora’s back, like familiar shadows that hover, but never fully detach. Catra gently approaches her, sits down on the grass in front, and shifts her gaze to Adora’s face to try and read her. Adora doesn’t register Catra in front of her. 

"Hey, Etheria to Adora,” Catra calls, yearning for Adora to make eye contact, anything to pull her out of her thoughts. “You okay?” She puts her hands on Adora’s and looks into her eyes.

Adora snaps out of her daze and turns to Catra. "Yeah, just a bit tired." She smiles quickly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Her hands unclench the grass and flip to fit in Catra’s. Catra keeps her focus on Adora, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. C’mon Adora, talk to me . A flash of hesitation sits on Adora’s face, not long, but enough for Catra to see it. Adora’s fingers lightly squeeze back after a pause, and she gets up and pulls Catra with her. 

She’s more present now. She has to be. And she turns to Catra, meeting her worried expression with a forced smile. Catra’s not convinced. Trying to push it a little bit more, Adora pulls in, and rests her head on Catra’s shoulder. "Really, Catra, I'm okay. I just need to rest." She needs Catra to believe it. And maybe if she keeps saying it, she’ll believe it, too. 

Catra doesn’t dare to let go. Instead she lets Adora stand there, supported by her. She sighs and nods, not digging further, and pulls one hand away from Adora’s hold. She could feel Adora freeze up from the sudden withdrawal and slightly relax again once the hand brushed stray hairs out of her face and stayed on her head. A small exhale escapes Adora’s chest and Catra fully embraces her. Catra knows Adora deserves the headspace to fully realize everything that happened today--both the good aspects and the difficult and scarring ones that will take longer to digest. Catra needs the space, too. Seeing Prime again, towering over her, as she was being dragged to her death. The memory of his virus brands into her where the barbs wrapped around her leg sliced in. The seeping burn was agonizingly slow, sinking in deep, and spreading. It was all too familiar. She had hoped that the image of Prime was only a figment of her imagination, but when there was nothing to wake up to, when she tried to clear her mind and open her eyes again, she realized that it was real. There was Prime. Little Sister . There was no escape.

Until Shadow Weaver forced a way out. 

She could still recall the look of complete fear that overtook Adora’s face at the realization that she couldn’t transform into She-Ra at the Heart, the quiet panic that spread across her as the virus did, gashes growing, light leaving her blue eyes. Adora couldn't hide that emotion. She never was able to. What made it worse was how quickly Adora tried to resign herself to that fate and push ahead to be okay with it because she thought she had to be. Catra knew that those thoughts existed within Adora, she just hoped that she’d never be put in a situation where they’d surface. But Catra still could not pinpoint what the other thought was. What did she miss? What happened in those 3 years without Adora? And how can she get Adora out of her shell long enough to figure out how to help?

Melog slinks over, pulling Catra out of her own thoughts, and rubs against her leg, letting out a quiet, sad groan. “I know, me, too,” Catra whispers, dropping her head to meet their gaze. She slowly blinks. They echo back the same gesture. An understanding. They push their head against her thigh, budging with a little force, and softly rumble. Their tail wraps around Adora’s and Catra’s ankles, blanketing the embrace.

A soft laugh escapes Adora as she slightly pulls her head back to see Melog wrapped around her and Catra. “Aww, your emotional support cat wants in on the love,” she muses. 

“What?! They’re not my ‘emotional support,’ Adora!” Catra flusters. Melog weighs in, mewing playfully, rubbing their head more against Catra’s side, curling inward. “What?!” Her head whips down to see her friend, cheekily purring.

Adora may not be able to talk directly to Melog like Catra, but it isn’t hard for her to translate this interaction. “Apparently Melog agrees,” she giggles. Blush violently rushes to Catra’s face as she continues to object to Adora and Melog’s banter. She missed this. And she’s glad to see Adora’s genuine smile, smug and mischievous as it is. Moments like this have been rarer since she had Adora back, but Catra is glad that they still exist, that she didn’t completely destroy their relationship beyond the point of no return. She was almost certain she did. Several times. But moments like this, dumb, stupid ones that ended in fits of laughter, flustering, and good memories, were one of many things that Catra never stopped thinking about in their time apart. Now she’s here. With her best friend. Her partner. Her other half. Adora’s now in good spirits. More present. Open. Smiling bright-eyed. Catra still has worry in her mind, but she’s happy to enjoy the present moment.

Adora brushes her hands against her pants, clearing away some dirt and moss before taking Catra's hand and walking over to Glimmer and Bow, who have been hugging for a while. She musters up as much fake confidence as she can, pushing out her anxieties, and puts a hand on Glimmer's shoulder. "Let's go home.”

Glimmer opens her eyes and unsquishes her face from Bow's shoulder. They both loosen the embrace and turn toward Adora and Catra, a warmly smiling. "Home," she sighs, her eyes traveling to Catra’s, who appears a little uncertain. Glimmer yanks her friends in a close embrace, holding onto them tightly, "I've missed home. Let's go." 

Catra lets go of Adora’s hand and holds her head. "Next time, a little bit of a warning, Sparkles!" Catra groans.

"Oh! Sorry Catra! Forgot," Glimmer says, a bit embarrassed, but laughing nonetheless.

Catra pauses a moment to let the vertigo pass and she takes a deep breath. Melog hisses and protectively circles around her as they flare up to a bright red before returning to their original relaxed stature of blue. "So, this is where you all live..." Catra glances around, checking out the main room. "This place is huge! How do you not get lost?" her eyes fill with wonder and anxiety as they scale the wall and up the high ceiling.

Adora watches her, giggling a bit at how cute it is for Catra to be in a new environment, especially Bright Moon of all places. "Well, Glimmer teleports a lot, but once you know the layout of the castle, you'll get the hang of navigating the halls," she says to Catra.

"Ugh, teleport," Catra groans. Adora’s half-suppressed laughter grabs Catra’s attention, and a hot blush makes her cheeks flushed and flustered. Crossing her arms while trying not to smile, Catra looks into herself and glances a sideways look at her spectators, muttering, "cute, huh, just wait until…" Her eyes float back to Adora, who is still amused, and is now slightly blushing, and a small, loving smile plays on Catra's lips. 

Bow’s and Glimmer’s eyes travel to each other, noting Catra and Adora’s cute interactions, and their brows raise as they smirk. Glimmer gives a silent head nod in his direction and Bow starts to go through schematics on his trackpad. "Okay. The castle's a little banged up from the Horde's attacks and Horde Prime's air raids, but it appears everything inside is still intact!" he says, "There's definitely enough rooms to have more people stay here if people need shelter until we can rebuild, but right now, I think we could all use a rest for the night."

"Mhmm," affirms Glimmer, "Bow and I need to go back to my dad and the other princesses to let them know when we’ll meet tomorrow to discuss aid and reformation efforts along with giving people some direction,” she pauses and run her eyes over the tired pair before her. She does not know exactly what happened in the Heart, but from their ripped clothes to their drained stances, Glimmer wants them both to be able to breathe before jumping into the building tasks before them. “But before that, I want to make sure that you both can settle and rest. Bow and I have our rooms, and Adora has her room, and Catra where--"

"Next to Adora," Catra cuts off Glimmer. Realizing how quick her response was, Catra tries to play it off, shrugging her shoulders and using a laid back tone. "What? I don't know where anything is in this dumb castle. I need Adora to make sure I don't get... you know, lost." She crosses her arms and looks at Bow and Glimmer, who smile, knowing that’s not the only reason she wants to stay close to Adora.

"I think there's a room right next to mine that's empty," Adora turns toward Bow and Glimmer. "I'll show her. You two go ahead," Adora nods at them. 

"Alright, good night guys," they smile as Bow pulls Glimmer in and they start walking away, melting into each other before they vanish in a veil of radiance.

Adora takes Catra's hand. "You coming?" Catra grips her hand and nods, and the two walk side-by-side down a hall, Melog in tow. Adora missed this--missed Catra. Missed goofing off and making fun of each other, talking, existing in the same space, just her and Catra facing the world. And now they could pick up where they left off--well, not exactly--last time Adora and Catra weren’t holding each other’s hands in bliss, but these feelings also weren’t new for either of them. The only new thing is that they finally realized that they have been feeling the same thing for a while. Like a long while.

I’m such an idiot, Adora quietly thinks, looking at Catra and then down at their clasped hands. I avoided my feelings for how long? And for what? Maybe if I said something earlier, things could have been different. Maybe Catra would’ve joined the rebellion! And the war would’ve panned out differently! At least we have each other now. I almost didn’t back on-- Adora doesn’t finish the thought. She doesn’t want to. It would only lead down a spiral of emotion that she can’t deal with right now. The Rebellion won! She should be happy. And she doesn’t want to worry Catra. Adora knew that the last few weeks had been hard for her with everything that happened. As she draws closer to her room, she swims in her endless thoughts, conflicting and messy, and stops, just standing in front of her door.

"You want to, uhh, go inside?" Catra asks, not really sure if she should be expecting an answer.

"Oh yeah! Sorry," Adora half-smiles and opens the door. She looks around and blinks. It's been months since she’s been here, but everything is in place and feels the same, yet distant. 

"This is your room?" Catra gasps. "This is huge! What?! How do you even use this much space? Why do you have a shower in your room? What is all this?" She bounds in and starts pointing at random decor, running on with more comments.

Adora stares at her room, perfectly intact since the last time she was here, before Horde Prime, back when Catra was still part of the Horde, before leaving to go rescue Entrapa from Beast Island. Back when Glimmer became Queen and she told Adora that her best wasn't good enough, after Angella had sacrificed herself. 

Her breaths become uneven and her arms begin to tremble. Not now.

As Adora stands there, trying to process her running thoughts, Catra sniffs around the room. "Hey Adora," Catra laughs, "look at this stupid--" she turns to her, snickering with a smile, but it unfolds into concern. She makes her way back to Adora, who hasn't left the entryway and takes her hand. "Are you... crying? Are you ok?"

"I..." Adora reaches up with a free hand to touch her cheeks and feels the fresh tears rolling down. "No. Yes--I--No!" Adora wipes her face with her shirt sleeve and inhales. She nods to herself and then turns to Catra. "I'm okay, just really exhausted," Adora huffs, clearly in denial.

Catra lingers her stare on her face. Usually Catra is the one to push away and avoid feelings. She hugs Adora, knowing that she shouldn’t push, but still wanting to show her that she is right here. "I love you."

"I love you too," Adora hugs back, tightly holding onto her. Her chin rests on Catra’s shoulder and small drops land on the fabric of her shirt.

Catra reaches up in the embrace and pulls out Adora’s hair tie, letting her hair drop and spill messily..

"What did you do that for?" Adora asks.

"If I didn't pull it out, you would've gone to sleep like that, dummy," Catra teases. She pulls back a bit from the embrace and pats the side of Adora’s face. "Anyway, you look like hell, so it's best that we both get some sleep." Catra slinks out of Adora’s room and she hears the door open and shut to the next room over. 

Adora softly smiles--this time it’s genuine. Catra in Bright Moon, right next door. Who would've thought? Adora moves from her spot at the door and advances toward her dresser. Her legs scream as she continues to take steps. Leaning down and opening a drawer, her arms and back burn from the strain. She bites her lip and continues. Several grey tanks and shorts sit inside, exactly where she left them. Adora peels off her clothes and puts on the tank and shorts. She holds her jacket and white shirt. There were more of the same shirt in a drawer and some of the damage could be repaired on the jacket, but something catches and holds Adora’s attention. A deep bloodstain bordering a large tear on the side of the jacket and shirt. Almost reflexively, her hand flies to her side, where she was gashed earlier. As she touches it, a sharp pain emerges and Adora hisses in agony, biting back a cry. She lifts the bottom of the tank to look, but all there is on the outside is a long red scab. Prime’s virus did more damage than she thought. 

Well, you were on the brink of death . 

Adora takes a minute to focus before surveying the rest of her clothes. She notices other rips and tears and a few spots of blood, but nothing like the one on the side, soaked in it. Her hands shake with the clothes in them, and Adora lets them fall to the floor.

She refocuses on her hands, trying to ground herself, and clenches her fists, letting her short nails dig into her palms. Releasing, Adora runs a hand through her hair and takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. Returning her gaze to the heap on the floor in front of her, she drives the bloody clothes toward the door with a kick. 

Adora sighs while turning off the lights, looking around the large empty room, and turns to her bed. Amidst the internal commotion, she smiles as she thinks about her first night at Bright Moon and how hard it was to adjust. And Glimmer and Bow were there, barely new friends, and showed her so much kindness and slept over with her and her new hard bed until she could sleep on her own. Without Catra. That was 3 years ago. Uncurling onto the bed, Adora carefully turns so that she’s as comfortable as she can get to sleep. It’s hard to.

Her eyes flinch open when she hears a thud.

She looks around, unsure of her surroundings. Everything is too bright, the white and green light blinds her. She squints and tries to get up, only falling back down. Sharp jolts shoot from her hips to her toes as she slams onto the smooth white floor and gasps for breath. Lifting her head up, she sees Catra, lying still, not moving. Her arms shake and scream at her, but she drags her weight over to Catra. A shallow, raspy breath escapes her lungs as Adora grabs her hand. She holds her in her arms, calling her name, over and over again.

"Catra, I've got you," she whispers. Hot tears stream down her face. "I'm not letting you leave me, please stay. I'm not letting go, Catra, I'm not letting you go," she sobs into her shoulder and chest.

"Disappointing."

Adora clings harder to Catra trying to block out Horde Prime's words. And then in a flash, Catra disintegrates, like a hologram, like she was never actually there in the first place. Weightless.

"You should have let go, Adora." 

Adora opens her blurry eyes in search for her, but Catra is gone from her arms. She turns to the source of the voice. And she looks around the room. No longer is she on the Velvet Glove, but now in the Crystal Castle. The lights blare red. Light Hope looms above her.

"You are compromised," Light Hope states. "You should have let go, Adora." 

"But I can't!" Adora screams, "She needed me, my friends needed me." 

"She died for you, Adora. She died because of you. All of your friends will if you do not let go."

A sword flickers and appears in her arms in place of Catra. Her sword. Her broken sword.

"This is your last chance. The planet is balanced. Activate the Heart of Etheria," Light Hope commands. She raises her arms and the Sword of Protection floats, the pieces all grabbing to each other and restoring the key. Adora pulls down on the handle as tears flood her vision, her muscles scream at her to stop, and She-Ra’s magic pushes against her own will. Though everything in her body screams for her to let go, though her resistance tortures her, the sword comes down with ease and shatters once again, the Heart blaring. Adora gasps for breath, powerless, defenseless, and alone, as a green light floods through the circuits and crawls up the walls. There’s nothing she can do. Light Hope's image flickers and Prime’s towering, sinister figure replaces her.

"Nothing you do can stop me. You will die, Adora, just like your Catra, just like your friends who you failed," Horde Prime spits out.

A barbed limb reaches out and strikes Adora’s side. She screams in agony and pants as she holds her side, tears never ceasing. This is her fault. She wasn't strong enough to stop any of this. She wasn't strong enough to close the portal without trapping Angella inside, she wasn't strong enough to be there for Glimmer and live up to her expectations, wasn't strong enough to stop the Heart, wasn’t strong enough to save Catra, to save anyone. And now she’s helpless. She’s bleeding out as Prime’s poison seeps in. She’s going to die. But that never mattered. What is Adora? She doesn’t matter. She never did. She’s nothing. What matters is that She-Ra couldn’t save Etheria.

Catra shifts in her plush bed, trying to get comfortable. This bed is way too soft. And it is weird to be in Bright Moon. At least in this capacity. Nails digging into her scalp, she groans and sits up. Everything about this room was too plush, too furnished, and unnecessary. No wonder Adora’s bed was flat and hard. But the discomfort isn't just from the bed or the weird shower-water-fountain or any other decorum. She's uncomfortable with herself. Catra. In Bright Moon. How many times did she try to destroy this place, take down the rebellion? Guilt floats to the top. She hurt so many people. Ruined so much. Took away. And at that point in time, she was okay with that, and that's what made it hard to digest now. How? How could she? She wanted Adora to hurt so bad. Make her suffer, because she thought that Adora didn’t care about what happened to Catra. Adora had hurt her by leaving, and Shadow Weaver -- 

And how could Adora even come back for her? Even care for her? Especially after the portal? Carta can remember the look Adora gave her, that icy look of seething anger and resentment. There was no hurt, no sadness, and no care. It appeared that Adora had completely detached from the idea of ever getting through to Catra. It plays back to her, perfect and still, a frozen image. And yet, Adora came back, even after Catra told her not to. How could she care? How does Adora care for Catra now?

Sighing, Catra looks at the door. Hopefully Adora won’t mind her company because she’s not going to be able to sleep in here. But she might not want you there right now . Adora would come back for her if she really wanted her. Catra had learned at least that much since her rescue. Adora left her three years ago, but she eventually did come back. And she came back again and again to the brig on Darla. And she came back for her in the Heart. Catra will just wait. If Adora wants her with her, then she’ll let Catra know. Catra still doesn’t want to push her. She had been sitting with her own thoughts for weeks. No chip, but flashes evolved into nightmares. And lots weighed down on her. She did not always deal with them alone. After she opened up to Adora in the brig, she found herself being supported by her best friend again, being held, enveloped, and loved. But even so, there were still times where Adora was not around and Catra had gotten used to sitting with herself, trying to keep her mind from going into too dark places. So if need be, she’ll stay awake and--

A soft cry.

Catra’s ears perk in alert, and she moves closer to the sound. 

Whimpering. A raw shriek. 

Adora. 

Too much space. Of course Adora wasn’t going to come to be her support or to be supported. She already shut herself off hours ago. Without another thought, Catra bolts up from the bed and bursts into Adora’s room, panic rising into her throat and worry etched across her face. 

At the sound of the door frantically swinging open, Adora sits up, ripping herself out of the terrors, grabbing for her knife, still under the pillow, and gripping it tight while panting and quieting her sobs by holding her other hand over her mouth. 

“Adora?”

She shakily looks up at the doorway; Catra's illuminated figure stands in it. Oh Adora… The faint light from the hall floods through and her eyes land on the clothes at her feet. She picks up Adora’s favorite jacket and turns it over to reveal a large jagged slash and blood, in deep crimson blotches sunken into the fabric. The jacket plops down to the ground. Catra closes the door and pads across the room to Adora, crushing her in a warm embrace, holding on and not letting go. She rubs her hand up and down her back and Adora breaks, dagger clattering to the floor as her fists open and close and slump down with the rest of her body, allowing herself to be held. She can’t push Catra away any longer.

Catra feels Adora’s uncontrollable shaking. Her frame shrinks in more with each tremor.  “It's okay,” Catra whispers in her ear. 

A flinch.

“Adora? You're safe. We're all safe because of you.”

Adora remains a chasm apart, tense and shuddering, holding everything in, including her breath.

 “Adora! You need to breathe for me, Adora.”

Catra’s voice is muddled and distant, but a small whisper echoes through. You need to breathe for me, Adora . Adora sniffles and nods, trying not to hold in and instead breathe. Her head bows, sinking down to Catra’s chest, and her body follows, slightly softening, but still rigid as she stays, clung onto Catra, shuddering in breaths, as silent streams roll down her face and onto the grey fabric of her top. Catra runs her hands through Adora’s hair. 

A small sliver of soft light creaks open from the doorway. Turquoise and gold meet the mauve irises peering through the crack. The orbs briefly widen and regard Catra. A small nod follows. A discussion for later. Glimmer delicately closes the door. A pink shimmer briefly illuminates the crevice between the two door panels.

Catra's bright eyes return to peer into Adora’s empty ones as she wipes away the tears. “Is it alright if I stay in here tonight?” she asks softly, almost reading the girl’s mind.

“Yes,” Adora squeaks, throat tight and voice hoarse from the sobs, “please stay.”

“Alright,” she replies, and slips into the bed with her.

Adora holds on tight as she lays down. Catra’s still holding her head and moves her other hand from Adora’s back to her waist. A pained gasp stays lodged in her throat. It dissipates as she releases her breath again. She curls into Catra and listens to the sound of her heart, gently thumping in her chest. She feels safer. At least enough to fold up and push aside the shock and anxiety that took form in her thoughts and as nightmares. Enough to distract from the sickly light that pierced with pain.

“Catra?”

She perks up at the soft question, checking to see if Adora’s okay. 

“I-- Thank you.”

She purrs, and Adora hears a small laugh. “For what?”

“For being there, for being here.”

Adora doesn't elaborate any further, but Catra softly nods. She knows what Adora means. She pulls back a little and Adora longs to feel her grasp. She reaches and cups Adora’s cheeks, still damp with tears, and rubs her thumb across them. Catra looks into Adora’s eyes and searches them, finding the enigmatic thought creeping into Adora’s tired eyes once again, settled in. Comfort her, let her know she’s loved and is safe . Catra warmly smiles and lightly kisses Adora’s forehead before touching her forehead with hers.

“You don’t have to thank me, dummy,” she muses.

A small pause. Adora’s eyes fly away from hers and Catra can see her turning in on herself, trying to process this information as if her words are foreign, something she never heard or considered before. Adora finds her again.

“But it’s just that you came back, and you risked so much by staying, and you could’ve di--" her eyes rip away this time. She can’t say the last word. As she replays the events, her breathing shakes and she lives them over in her head, still trying to understand her fears. 

“Hey, Adora,” Catra turns Adora’s face toward hers. She searches her eyes for something to cling onto. She doesn't break contact. “You look out for me and I look out for you. Remember? I’m still trying to make good on that promise. You came back for me, and I needed to come back for you.”

“But--”

“I wasn’t about to let you get killed. And it wasn't hard to come back--I love you.” Her tail moves and rests on Adora’s legs.

“But Catra, I was going to die there. You didn't have to stay. You should’ve just let me--” 

Before Adora can finish her words, Catra closes the distance between their lips, silencing any further words. Please never finish that thought. Her soft purr rumbles through the kiss. She pulls back, and Adora searches Catra’s eyes as she looks intimately at her. There are tears in her eyes. 

“I stayed because I wouldn't let you do anything by yourself. I wasn’t going to leave you again. And we can dwell on what could've happened, but it didn’t. We’re here now, and we both want to be here. A little shaken, sure, but we have each other. Now c’mere.” She pulls Adora’s head onto her chest. Soft fingers slide into Adora’s hair and gently tug at tangles and knots.

Starting to settle into the other’s chest, Adora lets her mind wander again.

We both want to be here.

Did Catra really want to be here? With her?

You deserve love, too.

We both want to be here. We both want to be here. We both want to be here. 

We both want to. 

Be here.

Both.

Here.

We.

Why?

“When did you get so good at all this emotions stuff?”

Catra’s ears jolt and her eyes widen, drawing Adora’s attention to them. Catra sighs and looks directly at her. “Only when it's you, dummy,” she says, a small smile on her face. 

Adora lets out a strained laugh, “only me, huh?”

Catra chuckles, a pleasant sound Adora has always liked. “Mmhm. No one else, not Sparkles or Arrowboy. I have a reputation to uphold,” she says smugly.

 An uneasy smile rests on Adora’s face as she and Catra go quiet. They remain in contact, and Adora’s eyelids grow heavy. Catra notices the fatigue settling in on her face and pulls her closer to her chest. She hugs her, holds her tight, and begins to purr. 

“You’re here,” Adora murmurs, drifting off.

Catra smiles, nods, and kisses her temple. In Catra’s arms. Adora finally goes off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Bow awoke to the sound of a pained cry down the hall. His first thoughts were on Catra. They weren’t super close, and though they had only really started getting to know each other since her rescue, Bow knew she had been struggling, especially alone and at night. A few times he’d peered into the brig, looking for Adora, and finding her and Catra wrapped in each other’s arms, being lulled to sleep or grounding Catra. Even with Prime’s defeat, Bow knew the trauma wouldn’t just go away. And while he was sure that Adora would be there for Catra, he figured it’d still be good to just check on his friend. Or at least have Glimmer do so. She and Catra appeared to have bonded and held mutual understanding and respect for each other. And Glimmer would understand more; she was on Prime’s ship with her. And Bow worried for her after Catra saved her. She told Bow she wasn’t affected by Prime as Catra was, but even so, Bow had held her closer and comforted her when anxiety and fears washed over her. 

As he approached his door and softly opened it, he heard the scream. A raw, throat-tearing scream. And it did not belong to Catra. In fact, the next thing he heard as he paced up the hall was the abrupt bursting of doors and the creaking as another set opened. Heavy breathing. Hyperventilating. A pause. A soft voice--Catra’s.

“Adora?”

An icy jolt went through him. Adora? He had never heard her in such agony. Strides turned into a sprint. Reaching for Glimmer’s door, it opened before he could even knock. Her swept pink waves were slightly disheveled, ragged clothes still on. Her body wore exhaustion, but her face was alert. Being down the hall, she heard it, too. She mirrored Bow’s expression and took his hand. 

“It’s Adora…” he began, voice hushed, “I think Catra is with her now.”

Small faint cries could still be heard, and then stillness. 

“Wait here. I’m just going to find Catra. I don’t want to smother Adora, so as long as Catra’s with her…” Glimmer faltered, worry lacing her words. And like that, she was gone.

And now Bow’s sitting on Glimmer’s window seat, folding piles of neglected clean clothes, left in cold crinkled heaps, untouched for months. It’s a mindless activity, but it helps Bow stay a bit more present. It’s all still a bit surreal, being back in Bright Moon after so long, doing such a simple activity. How long ago had it been like this? Well not exactly like this situation. No one is fighting--right now. Glimmer and Bow are best friends and now more. Catra had joined the Best Friends Squad along with the Princess Alliance and it is still something to adjust to, but a welcome addition. And even more so, Adora and Catra are together, more-or-less not at each other’s throats, and are figuring things out. They get to love and support each other. Openly. Finally, after how many years? And Adora’s currently… I’m not sure . Although this is startling and worrying, Bow is less shocked than he was minutes ago. He hadn’t had the chance to sit and think about it, and now, folding laundry, it takes over his absent mind. Adora and Bow had been close before Glimmer became Queen, but it was always Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, or just Glimmer and Bow, and even Glimmer and Adora. Although Glimmer becoming queen was hard and tension arose from being rushed into such a situation, it did bring Adora and Bow a lot closer together. Enough that on the rare moments when Adora ever confided in anyone, it was him. And there were hints of things that he hadn’t noticed about his friend until they spent more time together… 

The burst of gleaming pink interrupts Bow’s train of thought. Rising, he collects the stack of folded tunics and tops next to him and turns to Glimmer, curious and smiling with a tight lip, concern and care melding with the deep warm brown of his eyes. He places her clothes in her dresser, and puts his full attention on his partner’s body language, reading the mood before choosing his approach to this conversation. Glimmer stills, exhaling and pinching her eyes shut before opening again and pivoting toward Bow, head slightly hung. His patient gaze holds as he waits for her to collect her thoughts.

“What happened when I was gone?” Glimmer says in a hushed tone. She cuts her gaze up to Bow, whose eyes only grow the slightest bit bigger. It’s not noticeable to many, but Glimmer knows Bow well enough to read him.

“Well I--I started cleaning your room because you left it--”

Avoidance. Usually Bow is open to having conversations and is the person who is the most emotionally equipped to deal with things. “Bow! Please don’t avoid the question,” Glimmer snaps, approaching him. She takes his hands in hers and huffs. “You know what I’m asking you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “It’s just… is now the best time? For you or for me?” Her grasp loosens against his hands, but she doesn’t move away. Bow brushes his fingers on her cheek. “Hey, I’m not mad at you. We worked through that already, and even if I was still upset, know that I love you too much and for too long for it to ruin us, okay?” His hand roams to the back of Glimmer’s head, and he squeezes her into a hug. They hold each other in silence. Bow contemplates his next words. “I just want to make sure you’re ready to hear about it because I know things happened on… his ship and I don’t want you to listen to what was going on down here if you’re not emotionally or mentally ready. It’s even hard for me to think about sometimes.”

Glimmer unfolds from the embrace and takes hold of Bow’s hand, pulling him over to the now cleared window seat and drawing him down to sit with her. “Bow, I’m not going to lie. It will be hard to hear, especially with everything that has happened in the last year.” The onset of tears makes her pause as she scrunches her face, sniffing, “But our best friend is down the hall, crumpled up, sobbing into her girlfriend’s arms and I don’t know why or what happened, but I know that I have never seen her look so… so… UGH! I DON’T KNOW!” She notices her hands, now buried in her hair, gripping. She inhales and turns to Bow, as hot, frustrated tears drag down her cheeks. His glistening eyes swim with warm love and concerned unease. His hand places itself on Glimmer’s shoulder, and she takes hold and leans into it. “I’m sorry. I just-- I don’t know we will ever find the best time to talk about everything that happened where I will be ready, but I know that right now is the right time to at least talk about what happened to you two because I want to know how to support Adora. And I also want to know how to support you, too.”

Unexpected. But soft. A lean down into an embrace. A pull inward. The hand, half-covered by a soft sleeve goes from shoulder to jaw. Concentrating on the connection, eyes close. Lips brush, one pair on the other, as heat rushes to the pair’s cheeks. He kisses, gently. She responds, deepening the connection. Hands reach up and rest on his chest, slightly grabbing the fabric of the cropped hoodie underneath. A soft pink glow envelops them, completing the bond. Unexpected. Their first kiss. Special and not wasted. Quiet. Warm. Instinctive. Close. And soft. 

Their eyes blink open. Small orbs of magic flicker and float away, dissipating and winking.

“Okay,” he glistens.

“Okay,” she gently taps her forehead against his. She takes his hand again, giving a mild squeeze.

“I found Adora, staring at the stars in the desert on the outskirts of the Fright Zone.”

“Adora.” 

The blonde turned, finding him, and slid down a dune, running into an embrace. She pulled back, searching him, raking over to look for any signs of injury, making sure he was safe. 

“They took her. They took Glimmer.”

Her pupils shrank as panic and fear washed over her, processing what he just said. There was more from what he could tell. And it wasn’t good. Her head bowed and wisps and locks fell in front of her, trying to hide parts of her face behind a curtain, but Bow could still see her eyes, reluctant to meet his gaze. They detached from any focal point and she went in on herself. 

.

.

.

“She-Ra’s gone.” Her eyes slowly climb their way back to his patient and worried stare. “The Sword is broken.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

She looked back in on herself, trying to search for an answer through muddled thoughts. She came to an abrupt stop and her face hardened, steely determination glinting in her eyes. Her body went rigid. “We’re going to get Glimmer back…” she assured. Her head nodded with her words. Her fiery gaze focused in as a quiet anger built in her voice, “and we’re going to save the universe.”

“We walked all night to get back to Bright Moon. It was a pretty quiet walk, and we didn’t stop much. Every time I asked how she was doing, checking in to see if we should rest or just making sure she was okay, she would just shut it down to an ‘I’m fine’ and she soldiered ahead. Looking back, I’m not sure how fine she was physically or emotionally. I knew that she wasn’t just ‘fine’ because losing She-Ra obviously wouldn’t be something she’d take lightly, but I still don’t know what happened inside the Beacon. All I know is that the Sword broke and that’s the only reason why we still had a planet after, and Swift Wind couldn’t carry us when the Heart was starting to be activated. He collapsed because everything was just too much… it must’ve been his bond with She-Ra, and that means that something was happening to her, but Adora never mentioned it; she just forced her way through.

“We were able to reconvene with the rest of the Princess Alliance at Bright Moon.”

They reached the castle just before day break, finding the Princess Alliance, including Entrapta, who was chattering in the corner with Scorpia, gathered in the war room.

“Adora? Bow? Are you two alright?” Perfuma unfolded, standing up from her seat. The other princesses noticed and followed suit, approaching the pair. Volume picked up in the room as questions bombarded them, and more tired figures filled the space after waking up to the commotion. Bow just wanted to sleep, to leave this world for one moment and forget everything that happened. He could deal with friendship problems and emotions; he would have to. He engineered solutions and pieced the shards back together. But in order to do that, he needed to be able to put himself back together, and he wasn’t sure he could right now. Half of him had been slowly pulling away for months, and now she had sharply cleaved and separated.

“Where’s Glimmer?”

The room hushed to a deathly silence. Bow turned around to find King Micah in the large frame of the door, face pleading, hoping for an answer he knew would not come. It was a punch to the gut. Bow turned to his friend, who froze in response to the question. The main face and assumed leader of the Rebellion. Petrified. And snapped up in guilt and responsibility. She was assuming all the blame in her head and was trying to remain stoic and strong in front of everyone. Of course she was. Her orbs met the King’s, and before words came out, it felt as if they had a whole conversation. Both faces paled and Adora nodded.

“King Micah…” she tried, her voice heavy, “I am… I’m so sorry.” She was wavering.  “She was taken.” Adora stared at a spot on the floor. “And the Sword… it’s… the Sword--I… I couldn’t…” her breaths were becoming exhausted and erratic. Bow held her up from behind, giving both physical and emotional support. Just enough to finish her thought. “The Sword. It’s broken. I… broke it. She-Ra’s gone.” The rest of the room stopped moving. Adora ran a hand through her hair, gasping, over and over, “I was supposed to protect her.”

Bow carefully walked Adora closer to the table and set her to lean against it. One of her hands remained in her hair while the other found the table edge to grip onto. He put his eyes on hers, trying to get some sort of direction or even acknowledgement from her, but she was overwhelmed, something she rarely displayed to anyone, especially outside of her small circle of trust… which had gotten even smaller. Bow took charge of the room, “Everyone, we will reconvene in a better setting tomorrow to discuss our next steps. For now, please go rest and take care of yourselves.” And with that, everyone filed out of the room aside from Bow, Adora and the King.

Micah lingered in the doorway, eyes trained on his daughter’s friends. Bow moved in to give Adora a much-needed friend hug. Adora stood for a minute before responding, tightly wrapping her arms around him. Silence filled with the pitter-patter of drops hitting tile and the occasional shuddering breath. Bow blinks his eyes open, seeing the King by the door, sadness enveloping him. Glimmer was taken away from him before she got him back. Micah closes the distance and pulls Adora and Bow close, letting his own tears fall as he lets out quiet sobs of grief and frustration. 

“We were there for about two weeks, meeting, planning, trying to figure out how to get you back using Darla and how to keep villages and kingdoms safe from the Horde. Adora led most of the planning sessions, and pretty much just kept powering through until she crashed. And I guess that also pretty much summarizes how much Adora overworked as a coping mechanism for those weeks. But yeah, as Prime’s spires started landing all over the planet and started destroying parts of the Whispering Woods, we realized that Bright Moon was an open target and it was not safe to stay. Prime’s drones and robots attacked Bright Moon, so we left and hid in the Whispering Woods.” Bow rubs his brow and checks in with his partner.  “Are you good to keep going?”

Glimmer shakily nods, “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay. Well, in general, we were all low on morale. Everyday it was trying to free a village or help one flee, or more. Fight the bots, hide from clones, try to find information on where you are. It just felt like a constantly losing battle, or at the most like we were at a standstill in progress. There was one day that was especially bad.”

The Rebellion had been in the Woods for four days, staying hidden while helping and fighting. Adora, Bow, and the elemental princesses spent all of their time either planning or in battle along with help from Sea Hawk and General Juliet. Entrapta stayed back, working to repair Mara’s ship and pick up on any signals from Prime’s network. Bow helped when not out. After her first night back in Bright Moon, Adora had seemingly pulled herself up, remaining determined and in control. Even without She-Ra, Adora influenced much of the camp’s morale, and people were committed and sincere, ready to keep fighting, even though the odds stacked against them.

A distress signal came from Alwyn, pleading for help. After an impromptu planning session, Adora, Bow, Netossa, and Spinnerella headed for the village, ready to fight, evacuate, or both. Smoke billowed into the sky and the team picked up pace. Distant screams could be heard from a distance. Adora ran ahead, leaving everyone to run after her. Hitting branches in the dense forest, Bow ran. Gnarled roots slowed his pace, but he kept moving closer to the sounds of a massacre. His eyes watered as he ran headfirst into the smoke, the others following close behind. Between the stinging in his eyes and the dense smog, he couldn’t see. His ears were unaffected. 

Panting. Out of breath, but pushing through. 

The soft strong thumping of boots, on the charred grass, picking up speed.

A staff, extending outward. Metal sliding on metal and a click.

A high-pitched whine. Something electrical, charging up with power.

“NO!”

A booming pulse. A directed blast.

A small crack and thud in response.

Bow couldn’t hear anything else but the loud thumping of his chest ringing in his ears. His run became a sprint. His throat tightened in the smoke. He pushed. He was not about to lose his other best friend. 

The thick clouds dissipated into a thin haze as a strong swirling breeze swept them away. And now Bow saw everything. Shells and pieces of Horde bots, littering the ground. The intact troops retreating. 

And everything smeared in soot and blood.

As Bow scanned, he spotted a purple staff, stabbed into a bot, glinting in the light of fires. And away to the left was Adora, on the ground. Jacket off, sitting hunched over. Her back to Bow. 

“Adora?” 

She didn’t respond.

He drew closer. More blood seeped into the grass, forming little pools. Pools that squelched and splattered as he ran through them. The midriff of Adora’s shirt was red. Red against a white backdrop. Her crumpled pale figure sat in a body of crimson. Pants soaked. She looked like she was hugging herself.

“Adora?!”

No answer.

Clumps of soot and blood stuck to her dishevled locks. She was shaking.

“Adora!”

Bow reached her shoulder and ran to her front, looking for the injury. Her arms were painted red. A dried smear on her forehead. Blood, everywhere, but no massive harm to her. And then Bow pieced together what he heard. 

A small child, no more than five, rested in her arms. She kept firm pressure on the large wound on the child’s abdomen, using her jacket to reduce blood loss. It was a soaked maroon. And more of the dark liquid spewed out of the large hole and onto her shirt. Around the wound burned. The skin blistered and some blackened. Tufts of the soft dense coat of fur were matted with sticky clots. The patchy coat was the color of charcoal. The child’s face was contorted into an expression of surprise and pain. Long ears limp. Their eyes were closed. But they were unmoving.

“For the Honor of Grayskull,” she breathed.

Nothing.

She moved the limp child closer to her chest, put her forehead against their soft head, and closed her eyes.

“For the Honor of Grayskull.”

“For the Honor of Grayskull!” Her voice was frantic as she pushed down on the wound, trying to stop the blood from filling up the cavity. She placed the child on the ground and put her other hand on the wound. 

Bow put his hands on top of hers. She acknowledged them by swatting them away.

“I can heal them. I have to heal them… I--” she faltered. She looked up at Bow, who was at a loss of words. Her eyes were dull. Not empty, but full of loss and unbalance. Her sense of purpose adrift on the stormy sea of her ocean gray eyes. She focused back on the figure on the ground. Her head bowed to their small chest and turned to listen, trying to find life. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. She stroked the child’s head, ruffling the little tufts of hair, lifted the bloodsoaked jacket off, and folded it in her arms. 

Bow’s gaze shifted from Adora and the dead child to Netossa and Spinnerella, who held each other while looking back at him. He looked back to Adora, who slowly rose with a small tremor in her hands. He met her eyes and was greeted with another emotion mixed into the orbs: ire. She desperately clutched her jacket and turned to face her three teammates.

“We need to check for any survivors. And Bow, contact the base and tell them to have open tents and healers on standby.” They all grimly nodded. Adora solemnly turned around and started walking into the ruins, forcefully ripping her staff out of the downed bot and spinning it shut.

“No one survived the attack. After that, Adora became reckless. Running ahead when we retreated, taking on Prime’s forces without having backup. Not sleeping, barely eating. It was like she had no regard for her well-being.” Bow quiets, taking measured breaths. 

The room is heavy with emotion. Glimmer sniffles, eyes welling with tears. She holds Bow’s hand in hers and draws it to her lap. She shakily blurts, “I saw Horde Prime’s forces attacking your camp.” 

Bow turns to her, startled. “How did--”

“On his ship. I saw the princesses. I saw you and it looked like you were hurt, and I saw Adora, and she was running… she was running and then she couldn’t defend herself and he said that he was going to hurt her. Horde Prime, he--he made us, Catra and me, sit there and watch it all. He was trying to get us to talk about the Heart, and… it worked.” 

“Glimmer I--”

“I thought I had no choice! He was ready to kill Adora, kill you, kill everyone with his troops, and I let up the information that Adora was She-Ra. It didn’t even cross my mind that she was using a staff or wasn’t in She-Ra form. I didn’t even know that she broke the Sword! Of all people, I thought that Catra would talk, but the only thing she ever did say about the Heart was that Prime shouldn’t kill me because I was a part of the weapon!” She takes a calming breath, and starts, “At that table, Catra glared at me, trying to get me to shut up. But I told him. And I put you all in danger. It’s my fault,” she sobbed, “everything that happened is my fault! I fucked up! And look at what it cost Etheria! And what it cost Adora! And you!”

“Glimmer.” Bow states, finding strength in his voice. He puts hand on each shoulder and turns her to face him. “I am saying this in the nicest way possible and I mean no offence to either party, but you sound like Adora. Albeit, an Adora that is much more open to sharing,” he laughs. 

She looks a bit taken aback for a moment, but she quickly finds herself smiling and snickering, “Adora would have our heads if she ever heard us say that.”

They let laughter run its course. And after comes the rush of sleepiness. Glimmer nestles into Bow, enjoying the togetherness. Bow puts an arm around his partner and rubs up and down her shoulder and arm. “But seriously, Glimmer, this is not all your fault. Please remember that. Do not feel guilty about anything that happened or anything you did on his ship. You did what you thought would keep us alive and I know that you’re a wonderful person with a good heart. And the thing with the Heart? It was a mistake to activate it, but that didn’t make Prime come. He was already on his way. What Prime did to us still would’ve happened eventually. So please do not feel guilt or the need to take full responsibility for everything that happened to us.” He ruffles her hair, brushing shimmering strands out of her face.

“But what about Catra? I told her to do one good thing in her life and then she saved me at her expense. What Prime did to her--I don’t know what would’ve happened if we didn’t go back to save her. I know we were all acting on Adora’s impulse and instinct, and I was going to go back and at least look, but I thought that she was killed. And I thought that living with that was going to be hard, but considering how bad the alternative was? I feel even worse,” Glimmer yawns, still tense, but starting to relax into Bow.

“Catra made that decision. And none of us, not even her, could control what happened to her after. I have a feeling that she expected to die, too. And what he did to her instead not only hurt her, but it hurt some of us more than her death would have because she was living through hell. He knew it would. I feel guilty about it, too, honestly. I feel the most removed from her. Adora grew up with her. She knows about the abuses that Catra suffered in the Horde. And she loves her, deeply. I think that if Catra died saving you, especially after saying that it was to save Adora, it would have destroyed Adora. And Glimmer, you were on Prime’s ship with her. So, I think it’s okay to feel conflicted and distressed about what happened to her while on that terrible ship. But you shouldn’t feel responsible for it. And think about it; who would’ve ever thought that Catra would end up in Bright Moon? And with Adora? As her girlfriend?”

“We all saw the second thing coming,” she giggles. The both sigh and sit, staring off into space, letting fatigue settle into their bodies as the pair fully relaxes for the first time in a while. A long while. No more tension between them, and the stressful environment around them is muted by this small moment of bliss and closeness. Tomorrow’s agenda would come, but they would be ready to face them together. Glimmer made sure to schedule a meeting with the Alliance tomorrow to begin rebuilding villages and kingdoms, providing aid, and getting everyone back on their feet. She hadn’t told Adora or Catra yet and planned to in the morning, but now she wasn’t sure if Adora should come. Glimmer will ask Catra later. And Catra--well only some of the Alliance knew how much Catra did for the Rebellion in the past months. Those who were chipped, like Scorpia and Mermista, may only remember the last things she did before Horde Prime. The people would want Catra to face judgement for everything she did, but they didn’t know that she had suffered more than any person ever should on Prime’s ship for saving Glimmer. And whatever she did in the Heart saved Etheria, and more importantly--not that Etheria isn’t important, but--saved Adora. “Hey Bow?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m allowed to give pardons, right?”

“Well, yeah, you are only the Queen of Bright Moon and Etheria,” he laughs. “Why?”

“I’m going to pardon Catra tomorrow at the beginning of our meeting,” she declares. 

“Why would Catra need a pardon, though? After everything she’s done for the Rebellion, she shouldn’t need one.”

“I totally agree, but others who were chipped, or may have been out of touch, may not see it the way you and I do. It’s the least I can do for her.”

“Okay,” he smiles. “You’re getting pretty good at this Queen stuff, Queen Glimmah .”

They burst out in laughter and throw themselves backwards, heads hitting the plush cushions of the window seat. Glimmer chucks a pillow in Bow’s direction, hitting his shoulder.

She perks up. “Sleepover?” 

“You’re reading my mind,” he says with a grin.

Chapter Text

Catra has always hated water. Her first experience in a tub was a month after she arrived in the Horde. She managed to evade bath time for weeks by hiding in little nooks that Shadow Weaver couldn't find until the scheduled time for cleaning was over, but eventually Shadow Weaver caught on and intercepted her after dinner one day and kept her with her until it was time for her bath. Adora's small form occupied one half of the tub full of lukewarm water while Catra hissed and clawed onto Shadow Weaver's arm after half of her body was plopped into the bath. Subsequently, she was chewed out and dropped back into the water. Shadow Weaver viciously scrubbed the dirt out of her fur and yanked the knots out of her thick mane of hair. It was not a pleasant experience. Catra clung onto Adora for the whole five minutes of rough cleaning. The clinging continued after they were wrapped up in towels. And while they were being dressed. And well into the night in Adora’s bunk.

She values hygiene much more than she did when she was a toddler, but Catra had tried to avoid any unnecessary contact with water since. Although her coat of fur is short, it still trapped water easily and took time to dry. Water weighed her down and made her shiver as it cooled off. Boats made her sick. Surprise spritzes were unwelcome. 

The only water she tolerated were showers. And she really wants to take one right now. She needs to after not properly being clean for weeks. But can't make herself do it.

Water was already uncomfortable. 

But Horde Prime made it petrifying.

The feeling of water seeping into her fur brings her back to the frigid sea of green liquid that pulled her down and forced its way into her lungs, overwhelming and drowning her and her cries. 

The searing pain of a large current passing through her body. 

Losing all control and freedom. 

Her ravaged body being dragged out. 

Everything heavy and muted. 

And then her head felt lighter. 

A bundle taken and cleaved. 

Shorn. 

Again 

and 

again. 

And her neck felt cold. 

And her body felt bare. 

And all she could do was lay there as everything was stripped away from her.

But the heaviness and cold bite of the liquid did not leave her.

Catra never wants that feeling to ever return. And a shower alone could trigger that.

She sighs and stands. 

Water would have to be dealt with later.

Her perch on the balcony is vacated and Catra pads inside. Soft orange light trickles into the room as it seeps into the horizon. The outside air has a little bite to it now that the temperature’s beginning to drop. Autumn set in weeks ago and the cold weather has come with the promise of winter. She approaches the bed she left earlier and peers down at the blonde curled under blankets. Adora turns over to her right. Her brows are scrunched and Catra hears her breaths, slightly more shallow than her usual sleep. Can’t even relax a little in your sleep, Adora . She looks so small. Catra raises a hand and lightly touches Adora’s hair.

“Hey, I’ll be back later, okay? Sleep for as long as you need,” she purrs, crouching down to the sleeping form.

A soft nod pushes against her hand, followed by an acknowledging hum. Given the semi-conscious response, Adora will probably wake up within the hour, right after moonrise, even if Catra told her to rest more. Though worried, Catra giggles at this habit and playfully rubs Adora’s head, messing her head of hair. Smiling, she presses a kiss on her forehead and exits the room. 

The halls let out soft echoes as Catra wanders down them. Gold light illuminates the rosaline and white marble and glints off of the accents. Stone murals seemingly fill with life as the daylight beams from the windows. Phases of the moon lining the ceiling glow. The moment is both serene and vibrant. Although she’s only been in Bright Moon for a night, Catra finds her way easily to her target. The loud thumping footsteps down the hall did not go unnoticed last night and she had made a mental note about the distance and direction Bow ran in. If she is correct, this door should be where--

“Catra?”

Yup, there’s Sparkles, standing in the middle of the doorframe. “Never took you to be a morning person.”

“I’m not,” she grumbles, sliding a hand down her face. She looks back and glares at something in her room

Peering a little further in, Catra spots Arrow Boy, brightly waving at her and buried in a pile of pillows and cushions on the window seat. Both are in comfy sleepwear and it doesn’t appear that she’s walking in on anything, but even so, a smirk works its way onto her face. She teases, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your boyfriend.”

“We weren’t--ugh!” Glimmer exasperates, face flushing. Bow’s quiet laughter fills the background and she composes herself, continuing softer, “Anyways, everything alright?” 

The aura stills. Catra’s smirk replaces itself with an unsure reservation. She really doesn’t feel comfortable enough to openly share feelings and show complete vulnerability with them yet, even though these two are probably the closest people she has aside from Adora right now. Maybe they’re her friends? It doesn’t matter, though. At least not at this moment. Catra has learned to trust them with Adora. She questioned their motives at one point, thinking that they only accepted Adora for She-Ra, but in time she saw that there are other people beside her that also care for Adora. Bow and Glimmer love and care for Adora as Adora. And that’s what Catra needs right now.

“Um yeah… I actually was looking to talk to you both, so it’s good that you’re both here.” Her tail nervously flicks behind her.

Glimmer’s eyes trail to Bow’s, and they share some sort of quiet exchange before she turns back, saying a bit too brighty, “Of course. Come in--sorry about the mess.” Glimmer holds the door open, ushering Catra from the hall into her room.

Bow perks up, sitting cross-legged, and pats a spot next to him on the seat. He hugs a round pillow, setting his weight on it and waiting expectantly for Catra and Glimmer to join him. 

Making her way over, Catra notes that Bow looks so much softer when wrapped in a blanket and gently smiling at her. She learned relatively quickly that the archer is one of the most compassionate, warm, and gentle beings that she’s met, even when she launched him and herself off a cliff. And now, as he sits there without arrows or armour-- not that Captain Crop Top has much armour to begin with , all Catra can feel is an inviting gushy warmth radiating from him. The only other person she can think of being so good is Scorpia. Catra really doesn’t want to do anything to drive him away like she did to her.

She launches herself onto the cushions and orients herself into a relaxed position, keeping her body open to both the window and to Bow. Glimmer materializes next to him in a cloud of sparkles. Caught off guard, Catra lets out a shriek. She has gotten used to the Queen just manifesting in different places, but the lack of sleep and Adora’s nightmare and subsequent panic attack have her on edge. Not to mention how gross she feels. 

Bow picks up on her tenseness instantly. His first urge is to ask if she’s okay, but given his experience asking such a vague and open-ended question to Adora and how she deflects and dismisses, and how guarded and careful Catra is, he rewords his concern into a more direct and focused question. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

“I mean not really with what happened and… you know, other things,” Catra admits, hand unconsciously flying to the back of her neck and rubbing, “but I’ll be fine and Adora eventually was able to fall asleep. Knowing her, she’ll be up soon, though, and we’ll all have to get going on rebuilding or whatever,” she shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. 

Glimmer and Bow’s gazes drift towards each other, having a silent conversation, before turning their attention back to Catra. She gives them a questioning look. The room remains uncomfortably silent. 

Somber.

Withheld secrets.

Unspoken decisions.

“Okay what’s with you guys? You know why I’m here,” she snaps, anger building, “so what are you hiding? We’re all on the same fucking side! What aren’t you telling me?!”

What did Perfuma say? Abandonment issues and negativity? Right. Fucking Perfuma. Of course the hippie of all people can see right through me… And she’s right. Not that I want to be included in everything Sparkles and Crop Top do, because I really don’t -- no thanks ew-- but given that this is about Adora, I don’t know if this is them not trusting me enough to tell me whatever the hell it is they obviously aren’t saying. 

And my insecure ass took it to the extreme. 

Shit. 

Now I have to explain and be mushy and shit. Fucking Princesses.

Bow and Glimmer are glancing at each other again, taken aback from the sudden outburst.

Catra clears her throat, starting again in a more even tone, “Sorry. I just-- I’m trying to be more trusting and also trustworthy, but it just feels like you guys don’t trust me enough with whatever it is you keep glancing about.” She gestures back and forth, pointing between the two. “Look, I’m not good at these conversations. Okay? Emotions, vulnerability, that just never existed in the Horde. No one cared so neither would you, you know? But Adora… well she was the only exception. Always has been. When she left with you two, it hurt. So fucking much. And everytime she left, it just felt like another knife in the gut. I told myself she didn’t care. We had looked out for each other--well, more her protecting me, even when I didn’t want her to, but looking back on it now, I guess she just cared in her stupid, heroic way and didn’t want anything else bad to happen to me. Even after she defected, I knew that she did care still, I just thought not enough to choose me over you guys. And I used it against her every time we fought until I thought she hated me. I didn’t even realize that her idiotic self never stopped trying to protect me and caring until she came back for me on Prime’s Ship.” Catra takes a deep inhale through her nostrils before continuing, quieter. “I don’t know what changed in the last three years, but something did and it’s eating away at her. I don’t want something to happen to her again. I just got her back. So, if this thing has to do with Adora, tell me. I… I need to look out for her,” she concedes, softening her voice to a quiet whisper at the end and glancing away from the pair opposite her. “It’s the least I can do after everything I did to hurt her.”

“Thank you, Catra.”

“For what, Sparkles?”

“For telling us this. And sorry. We didn’t even think about how you would feel. Or ask for your input on this matter.”

“Don’t get mushy on me!” Catra smiles. She can’t stay too soft for too long. “Alright so what is this secretive matter anyway?”

Bow speaks up, “We met with the rest of the Alliance last night and we’re having a meeting today to officially end the war and start coordinating the rebuilding efforts.”

“Okay and ?”

“And given the stress Adora’s been under and the events of last night, Glimmer and I were talking and…”

“You want her to sit this out.”

“Only until she’s better rested and more relaxed.” 

“You do realize that this is Adora we’re talking about,” she snorts. “Relaxation is a foreign concept to her.”

Catra can see the conflict on Bow and Glimmer’s faces. They’re not actually sure if what they decided is right. The more she thinks on it, the more Catra realizes that she’s not sure what the right decision is either. She sighs.

“I agree that she needs to take care of herself first. If I had it my way, she’d be in a space where she can be selfish and put herself first for once, but as long as Etheria-- and the rest of the universe I guess now are in need, she’ll be there ready to give everything.”

Glimmer pipes up after considering Catra’s input, “I… don’t think we should be making this decision for her.”

Catra’s head snaps up. “You know she’ll likely choose to put herself back in the field, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just that you’re right. Adora’s not going to stay still when she knows that she could be helping people. Also I can’t make decisions for her. Even as Queen. Last time I did that,” she turns and looks to Bow, remorse in her eyes, “I hurt her and Bow. I was awful. You guys are my friends, not my guard or troops. I need to respect and support your recommendations and decisions, and be more considerate, too.” She smiles, turning to look at both Bow and Catra.

Catra nods, trying to shake off the sensation of amiability that seems to exist in every messy part of this room. “Okay, what time is this meeting at?”

“Later this morning, at second moonrise.”

“So we have a few hours. What’s the plan?”

“Just find Adora and tell her about the meeting. Let her decide what she wants to do,” Bow answers.

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and?’ Catra?”

“Seriously? That’s it? Nothing else? No other plan in case things go to hell?”

“… I guess just support her the best we can and be there for her and--”

“Keep her from doing dumb shit,” Catra resolves with a final nod. She looks at the couple, who echo it back with serious affirmation before all three crack into grins, chuckling at the seriousness they all possessed moments ago.

Two pairs of arms wrap around Catra’s slender frame. The fuck? She tries to pull away, but ends up sinking into the hug. Her arms complete the embrace. It’s warm. And good. Somehow, this feels right to her, but too good to be true.

“Why’re you guys hugging me?”

The question hangs awkwardly in the air. 

Yup, too good to be true. I ruined it .

But instead of the recoil she’s so used to--people leaving, not trusting, not caring, not wanting--she feels herself being pulled in closer. It’s protective. Cozy. Supportive. Genuine. Glimmer and Bow gave her this type of hug yesterday, but unlike the hug in the Heart’s corridor, this one doesn’t feel like a melancholy goodbye. This one’s a greeting. A hello. Welcome.

“You’re a part of the Best Friends Squad,” Bow laughs.

Glimmer slightly pulls back to face her. “That means friend hugs are a given, and you can’t get out of them. Especially when you need one.”

The girl in their arms goes stiff.

Bow and Glimmer pull back a little, slightly worried they crossed a boundary. Adora never really told them much about Catra and their history; they learned more from Catra in one conversation than what Adora told them in her first months in Bright Moon, but after Catra joined them on Darla, Adora laid out strict ground rules about Catra, including a crash course in boundaries because she said that Bow and Glimmer ‘had virtually none.’ At first they were offended, but Adora’s never been one to over-exaggerate. And they remembered how finding Adora and eventually having her live in Bright Moon with them was more than just a simple adjustment for each of them. It was a bit awkward at first. Adora was fairly stiff and reserved; Glimmer had to learn not to just barge into her room unless she wanted a knife thrown at her head, and Bow had to refrain from comforting with hugs and friendly touches unless she asked or allowed him to. 

Catra, frozen in place, seemingly forgetting how to breathe, reminds them of those boundaries.

“Catra we’re so sorry! We should have asked first!” Bow frantically apologizes.

“Are you okay?” Glimmer asks worriedly.

The cat is brought back to the current moment at Glimmer’s question. “Oh, yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” Her lips move up into a gentle smile, setting them at ease. “You guys didn’t do anything wrong for once… I just haven’t had friend hugs in a while. It was… nice I guess. I, um, wouldn’t mind finishing the hug either,” she mumbles, maybe not loud enough for them to hear, but secretly hoping they do. Adora has given her plenty of hugs in the past few weeks, but those were Adora hugs. Those hugs have definitely been more than friend hugs. For both of them… for a while, apparently. But even so, Sparkles and Arrow Boy provide an external comfort and support that Catra has lacked in her life until now. Heat fills her cheeks.

The sparkly girl in PJ shorts and the boy in a crop top turn to each other, developing wide grins in unison. They yell, tackling Catra on the cushions and pulling her into their embrace once again. All three release a collective breath.  

Usually, focusing on her hands until they stop shaking or fidgeting brings her back into the present moment. And if that doesn’t work, then a splash of water on the face certainly makes Adora focus again. But both failed her after waking up in a haze, slightly blinded by the incoming rays from the morning’s first moonrise, and she feels like she’s slowly drowning in a spiral. Being back in her room, in Bright Moon, is nothing like she had pictured. Everything’s too quiet. No conversations are happening beyond the barriers of her space, not even the spitting crackles of a fire. The room has no corners, no place where edges start and end, and it’s closing in on her. And she’s alone. Catra left only maybe ten minutes ago, but Adora feels paralyzed in a timeless void. Catra’s not there to pull her out. 

I shouldn’t need anyone to pull me out. It’s not their fault I’m screwed up.

Blink.

She snaps into full consciousness with a yelp, finding herself transported from her firm bed to the bathroom. Cold streams pelt and prick her, leaving small angry marks on her skin. She turns her head and shivers. Chilled honey blond strands stick in clumps on her face, back, and the ceramic tile that supports her head. She finds herself curled up, sitting at the back of the shower, pushing herself into the one corner that exists in her room. Water droplets bite at the warmth of her cheeks as they roll down to her jaw. Slowly, she unfurls and reaches for the soap. 

The full body dump into frigid water seized the dullness after waking up today. It also abruptly shook Adora into hyperawareness. The roaring of the water just a bit too loud, the vanilla and lavender soap, meant to calm, just becoming overwhelming scents. The water sharp against her bare skin and heavy in her hair. But Adora’s awake now. And present. She can work with that. 

A reflection stares at her. She wipes the remaining water from her face, tracing a path from the bridge of her nose, pushing into the sunken skin around her eye, outlining her cheek bone, and down the jaw. Adora follows in unison. The reflection scans further, going down her neck and reaching the collarbone. It hovers a moment over it, brushing against her skin. There’s a spot where the texture is different, softer than it was, but still tough and taut in a slashing line. Reflected eyes move back onto Adora’s face, waiting for her attention. Having met briefly again with Adora, the orbs drop down to her upper right flank and nod up, as if signaling for Adora to follow. Her hand reaches the sensitive and inflamed skin. The resulting sharp pain causes her to recoil, and she sucks in a sharp breath through her clenched teeth. Placing her palm back, Adora lets it sit on the long scab. It’s tender and warm to the touch. Her most recent injury. A reminder that she almost failed. Impulsively, she starts picking at it. Deep red crust flakes off. Clotted protection just ripped and peeled off in seconds. Tiny crumbles build up under her nails. And a new, brighter metallic red sticks to the pads of her fingers. Adora stops. The new bleed does not. 

Why couldn’t She-Ra heal this?

At least she can’t see any sickening green flooding into the gash. One palm pushes against the wound and she lets out a whine. The other hand reaches for her Sword. Nothing comes of it. She groans. Thanks for nothing, guess we’re resorting to Plan B. Adora grabs a bandage wrap on the counter beside her. After her first week in Bright Moon, she woke up to find a whole stock of bandages, wraps, tape, and other first aid supplies in her bathroom, probably because she kept refusing to go to a healer after getting random cuts and scrapes while training. She tightly wraps it around her abdomen a few times before tying it off. 

“There,” she huffs to her reflection. “It’ll be fine. Nobody needs to worry about this.”

Because your episode last night already gave Catra enough to worry about. You scared her away this morning, the girl in the mirror seemingly growls. 

Adora chokes on her thoughts, ripping away from her care routine to the glass wall, which is supposed to only spit back her image. She waves her arms around, watching the mirror with intent. The movements are only mirrored. Nothing looks out of place. Eyebrows cinched, she peers into the looking glass, shifting her weight forward. One hand grips against the counter crease while the other holds the roll of cloth only half-twisted around her upper torso. She dares not to blink and keeps all her attention glued to her image. Adora's first instinct is that this is a Shadow Weaver mind trick, another manipulation to pull her and Catra apart, a play to control and take advantage of her for power, but she’s dead. 

Am I just in my head, then?

She’s dead. Adora saw her die yesterday. For her. 

Great, first I don’t sleep because I’m having nightmares, and now they exist while I’m awake.  

She’s dead.

"You're welcome."

She’s dead.

Shadow Weaver’s dead.

Given the events of yesterday, she didn’t have time to sort through her conflicted feelings surrounding Shadow Weaver’s death. She doesn’t even want to breach the subject now. 

One thought slips through, though. Another person died right in front of her. Because she couldn’t protect them. And Shadow Weaver died for her. Shadow Weaver, who was so bent on using Adora to gain power. Who initially stayed behind, who was okay with Adora dying to free Etheria’s magic so she could take it. But she died because Adora couldn’t do her job in the first place. 

“Snap out of it! Pull yourself together, Adora,” she commands. “I’m fine. I have to be. If I can’t for myself, then be fine for Etheria. And for my friends. And for Catra.”

Going back to her routine, she finishes the binding wrap around her chest. Just because the war’s over doesn’t mean she gets a day off.

Chapter Text

Vacant. The war room’s vacant and unchanged. Crystals on the ceiling still bend and refract light into glistening beams charged with energy. The murals etched in stone remain unscathed. Adora runs her hand along the wall, brushing over the crevices and grooves that make up the mural and taking in the room. All of the stone faces look up to the center, up to Angella, raised above all, like a guardian. A protector. And in the end, she was just that. If only you were here now. Approaching the Queen’s image in stone, Adora hands grip and ungrip each other as she holds them to her chest. She misses her. Adora never had any of what Glimmer and Bow call ‘positive adult presences’ in her life until she came to Bright Moon, and after initial apprehension, Angella welcomed her with open arms. Late at night when she couldn’t sleep, Adora would always find the Queen in the hall, gazing upon Micah’s mural, and sometimes they would just stand there, in each other’s company, both longing for people they thought they couldn’t get back. Much like the current moment, really, but now it’s just Adora. 

“Hey, Adora?”

Caught off guard, she whips around to find Catra leaning against the main door frame, relaxed and arms crossed. Adora has no idea how long Catra’s been standing there.

“Oh, hey,” she responds, slightly deflated. Looking down, she notices how tightly her hands squeeze together, slightly jittery, and forcefully drops them to her sides, where they instinctively curl into tight fists. Her eyes snap back up to Catra, but her partner’s eyes are focused on her hands. Why does Catra have to notice everything?

As if she could hear her thoughts, Catra says, “Adora, you do realize that I’ve known you pretty much since I knew anything.” She slinks closer. Drawing the bunched fists into her hands, Catra pulls her in.  “Figured you’d be here since you always did insist on being early to training and lessons. Old habits die hard.” Her arm slides around her waist and the pair turns toward the mural. “So, what are we looking at?” 

Adora goes stiff in Catra’s relaxed hold. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Um, this is the first Princess Alliance… and that’s Queen Angella,” the blonde mumbles, loosening enough to put her arm around Catra’s shoulder.

“Oh.” 

While she and Glimmer had developed a mutual respect for each other and opened up somewhat during their time together on the Velvet Glove, they had avoided rubbing salt into deeper wounds… like the Portal and the Heart of Etheria. Catra’s glad Adora’s the only person in this room right now.

“What was she like?”

Adora grips tighter onto her shoulder and rubs up and down. She turns her face to find the mismatched orbs she could stare into for an eternity. “Catra, we don’t have to talk about this right now if you don’t want to.”

“I want to, Adora… At least I want to know what she was like.”

A breath in and a breath out. Adora hesitates on her words before turning away and up to the stone image. “Well, she was quite regal. Always so poised and composed. Just by looking at her, you’d know that she was in power.”

Catra shivers under her hand.

“Oh, no! No, not in that way.  I was terrified of her at first because I thought the same. She intimidated me.”

 She can remember her first weeks still.

Plumeria did not go as planned. Bow could say it went way better, and Glimmer could beam about kick starting the new Princess Alliance, but Adora was more hung up on the fact that they went against the Queen’s direct orders. She went against orders. The Queen said “under no circumstances” and then they went right against it and infiltrated a Horde base. But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? And while she was initially excited that she was able to help as She-Ra, Adora would have to face the consequences of stepping out of line. Far out of line. 

While Catra suffered most at the hands of Shadow Weaver for doing things she deemed out of line, Adora had also known to an extent what the consequences were for such things. Discipline had been beat into her early on. And she quickly embodied the principles of perfection, order, and obedience to ensure that she remained in good standing with Shadow Weaver. As time went on, Adora shouldered more and more blame for her and Catra’s missteps, but in the end it was only Catra who shouldered the punishments. Catra, who was still in the Fight Zone while Adora skipped off, mostly unscathed, with the Rebellion. Maybe not unscathed now that she successfully screwed up her first mission. But Catra was stuck with no protection from Shadow Weaver. Catra. She missed Catra.

As they approached castle Bright Moon, the cross figure of Angella stood in the walkway front of the gates. She definitely received word of the events that took place in Plumeria. 

“Commander Glimmer,” the Queen addressed sternly, and held her hands together in front.

“Your majesty,” Glimmer bowed, adding extra sugar to her response. 

Adora realized her second misstep and curtly bowed in front of the Queen, refusing to meet eye contact with her after rising. Instead, she placed her hands behind her back and they started wringing.

The Queen melted a little, bending down a little and grabbing Glimmer into a tight hug. “Welcome home.” She pecked the top of her daughter’s head and received a groan from her in response. Glimmer burst out of the hug in a cloud of pink dust and reappeared back between Adora and Bow. There was lightness and small smiles on both of their faces. Bow stifled a giggle. Had Adora missed something?

Queen Angella nodded toward her daughter’s two friends, still twinkling, before resuming her regal posture. “I received word from Princess Perfuma that they received the aid successfully. That and that her kingdom and she have joined the Rebellion and the Princess Alliance . Glimmer?” her mouth twisted into a knowing, somewhat unamused smirk.

Maybe Adora didn’t miss anything. She knew how Commanding Officers could be. And Glimmer was getting the blame pinned on her. For Adora’s actions. For her broken promise. This scenario was too familiar and Adora hated how it usually ended. This time she’d do more to make sure it was fair, that the Queen recognized how it was her fault and hers alone. She straightened into perfect military posture, shoving her hands down to her sides. She had to make a conscious effort to keep them from balling up. 

Deep breath. Project strength.

“But rarely did she raise her voice… and she never did use magic or physical force on people,” Adora smiles, pulling herself out of her own memory. She turns to meet Catra’s eyes, giving her the softhearted smile she only has for her. Catra reciprocates by wrapping Adora in closer and giving a soft squeeze to her entwined hand. A tail brushes affectionately against the back of Adora’s calf and relaxes there. Her cropped mane rubs under Adora’s jaw as she rests her head against Adora’s shoulder. They both turn their heads back up to Angella, enjoying the moment in the intimate silence.

“Your majesty, it’s completely my fault that we engaged with the Horde. Don’t punish the Commander for my infraction.” Adora finally met the Queen’s eyes, but what she expected to find wasn’t there. Even though Shadow Weaver wore a mask, Adora saw a dangerous anger in her eyes when it came to stepping out of line. That and the room would grow darker and be charged with her magic. The feeling had made Adora sick. But Angella did none of those things. No dark looming aura, no charge of magic in the environment at all. And her eyes looked not angry or even annoyed. If anything, they looked pensive. And a bit sorrowful? The Queen took a step toward her and she reminded herself to not take a step backward.

An arm reached out. The hand at the end didn’t roughly grab her face or sharply push her back or slap her across the cheek or even cradle it while disappointments and high expectations were fed gently into her head. Delicately, the gloved hand placed itself onto her shoulder. And a thumb slightly rubbed her shoulder.

“Thank you, Adora, but we’ll talk later,” the Queen offered a gentle smile. 

Adora definitely missed something.

Glimmer used the moment to start walking away, exclaiming “Okay! Well if we’re all good here, we’re all super tired Mom, so we’re gonna go and--”

The Queen stopped her daughter and swerved her around into her arm. She began to walk with a firm but loving grip on her daughter’s shoulder. “Glimmer, I said Adora and I will talk later. You and I have plenty to discuss right now.”

She groaned, “But Mom! I need to go recharge and--”

“Wonderful. We can discuss how the mission went and our supposedly newly formed Princess Alliance on the way up to the Moonstone and while you recharge,” she audibly smirked. Queen Angella briefly twisted around, mouthing a ‘have a nice day’ and giving a parting nod to Bow and Adora.

What just happened? Confusion and more than a bit of nervousness overshadowed Adora’s thoughts. The Queen wanted to talk with her later. But she wasn’t mad. She looked mad at the beginning, but in the end she wasn’t? Well, Shadow Weaver did that, too, but not really. Even when her voice reached out to coax Adora into some sense of false security, there was still the underlying tone of invalidation and accusation. Queen Angella’s voice was just calm after warming up to the group, even though she knew that they went against orders. The Queen was harder to read than Shadow Weaver, who wore a mask.

“You good Adora?” Bow tapped her arm, pulling her out of space.

She didn’t realize her held breath until she let out a large sigh and gasped in new air. With an assertive head nod, she turns to her new friend and walks in step with him into the castle.

After two weeks, Adora became much more visibly comfortable in Bright Moon. The castle guards stopped whispering about her in distrust. Not that they completely trusted her now, but the Horde hadn’t shown up on Bright Moon’s doorstep since she arrived, so they just left her alone and ignored her presence. Bow and Glimmer slept in her room and gifted her a hard bed. It wasn’t the same as sleeping in the barracks, but it was better than being swallowed alive alone or killing another plush bed. And now they were the ‘Best Friend Squad’ and aside from the stupid name -- which had grown on Adora -- she enjoyed having new friends to fill the void of the ones she lost. The ones she left behind. Getting to know Glimmer and Bow was by far the best thing about Bright Moon. Bow was so welcoming to Adora and was perceptive in regard to things she didn’t know and other things that made her uncomfortable in the new environment. Glimmer hung out in Adora’s room a lot that week and through conversation and spending time together, it didn’t take long for Adora to realize that she was quite the spitfire. Glimmer had been ‘grounded’ for a week by her mother--whatever that meant. Adora supposed it was a punishment of some sort, but Glimmer didn’t seem too phased by it, and in fact, was rather excited by the fact that it was for a week.

But now it had been two weeks. And the Queen still hadn’t talked to Adora about her infraction in Plumeria. And while sleep didn’t come easily, Adora was sleeping better and had begun sleeping alone in her room. 

But tonight she was wide awake. 

And tense. 

And it felt like the shadows in her room were closing in on her.

Time passed slowly and thoughts overrode her brain. Sitting up, she turned her restless gaze to the unoccupied foot of her bed. She was not going to sleep anytime soon. She needed to move. Remembering her surroundings, Adora pulled the blanket off and scooted out of bed. No Fright Zone, no lights out, no curfew. She could take a walk wherever and whenever she wanted. Bare toes briefly recoiled before reaching out and grounding on the cool marble floor. 

This was only her third night in sleepwear. In the Horde, she usually just wore her uniform clothes to bed, and if she really felt the need to change out of them, she just slept in a sports bra and spandex. If there was a surprise drill, she needed to be ready. But now in Bright Moon, there was nothing of the sort, but her room was more window than walls. A lot of the castle was open, actually. And Adora could not fathom how anyone could feel safe knowing that an intruder could sneak in through any point of entry. It took Glimmer and Bow a week to assure her that she was in fact safe while sleeping in her room, and a full week and a half to coax Adora into getting alternative clothes to sleep in, especially after Adora realized that there were no uniform clothes for her to be told to wear in Bright Moon. Uncomfortable with this fact, she simply asked for the same uniform shirt and pants she had already been wearing minus the Horde insignia that had blazed across her back for so long. And at her friends’ urging, she finally settled on grey tanks and shorts for nighttime. Not wearing socks on the floor woke her up quicker, so she didn’t wear them to bed. She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Bright Moon at night was still quite bright. While most hall lights were either dimmed or kept off, the outlines of potted plants, hanging crystals, and random artifacts scattered throughout the corridors were still visible due to the moonbeams that flooded in from the windows at all angles. Tranquility seemed to bathe the castle in waves of soft light from the moons of Etheria. Focusing on the sound of her pattering feet faintly echoing through the hall, Adora let herself wander around the castle. She was still pretty unfamiliar with most of it, but the Horde engrained more than enough survival skills into her to handle walking down unknown halls. All she had to do was track the turns she made so she could remember her path to her room. Walk down a hall and pick which way to go. Veer left. Walk straight. Turn right. Keep going. She wasn’t sure how many corridors existed in Castle Bright Moon, but she managed to walk around enough to make a loop. So she walked it again and again, taking in new details every time as her eyes grew more adjusted to the dark environment Adora found herself calm and consumed in this activity; giving herself a task and executing it was something she could handle with a decent amount of control. 

What she couldn’t control was her abrupt halt at King Micah’s mural on the wall. Or Queen Angella finding her sitting on the stone floor staring at him blankly half an hour later. Adora didn’t even notice the extra presence in the hall at first.

“Adora?” the voice behind her inquired.

She shot up straight and whipped her head around to face the Queen, who was standing poised and maintaining a small glowing orb in her hand. The Queen moved it forward, better illuminating the girl on the floor.

“Oh! Your majesty!” Adora quickly addresses, pushing herself up to a stand, bowing stiffly.

Queen Angella softly chuckled in regard to the soldier’s surprised demeanour, “No need for formalities in the middle of the night, dear. Angella is just fine.”

Adora gave her a hesitant nod in response. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself in the ruler’s presence. 

Angella had turned to face the image of her late husband and let the silence sit. 

So Adora turned back to him, too.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed with the two of them standing in silence, but the light from Angella’s palm dimmed and then dropped all together, and then Adora felt the Queen’s eyes on her. She snuck a glance up to her face. Angella was still hard to read. She was in some pensive thought, probably about Adora, considering that she was studying her now, but it was hard to figure out what she was thinking. Maybe it was about Plumeria. Catching the Queen’s gaze, Adora quickly averted her eyes back to the mural.

“Would you mind if I joined you on your walk?” she asked in a composed, knowing manner.

Adora jolted at the question. How did she know?

“I heard bare footsteps pass through my hall about every ten minutes, and after the fourth time and not hearing them a fifth, I figured I should seek out and check on the person making loops around my castle at this hour,” Angella mused.

“Your Majesty, um, Angella, I am so sorry for waking you up, I didn’t mean to disturb--”

Angella held up her hand. “Come, walk with me, Adora.” She waved her over as she started down the hall. 

Adora shook herself out of her stupor and rushed to match Angella’s stride. She was used to apologizing and trying to minimize damage by shouldering responsibility. Apologies were impulsive and reflexive to her. Burdening herself was second nature. And she was used to her commanding officers not taking any of her explanations. But not like this. This was new. Maybe now was their conversation about Plumeria. It both filled Adora with dread and relief.

They had deviated from Adora’s original trail in silence. Eyes darting around the unknown halls, Adora began closing in on herself. She didn’t know where she and the Queen were going and it worried her. She should’ve mapped out the castle in her freetime. Then she wouldn’t be aimlessly following the matriarch of Bright Moon around in the dark at a random hour in the morning. And she wouldn’t have picked up her breathing. Or rhythmically squeezed her hands in fists. And she wouldn’t be so nervous. Guess she'd just rip off the bandage and face it head on. If that meant she bled in the process, so be it.

“Um, ma’am--Your Majesty--about Plumeria… I just want to address the--”

“How do you take your tea?”

This confused Adora. And then she realized that they stopped. And were in a kitchen. Not the large Bright Moon kitchen with vast counter space, countless cupboards, and ornate lights that Glimmer constantly snuck the Best Friend Squad into to steal cake and other sweets. This one was smaller and more modest--by Bright Moon standards. There was no need to turn on any lights, as panes on the ceiling let the moonlight waft down into the room.

“Adora, dear, are you alright?” Angella was now crouching to meet her eyes. There was concern laced in her words and expression, but there also seemed to be understanding.

“Yeah, I am. Sorry. What were you asking about?”

“That’s quite alright. Come sit at the table.” 

A hand landed on the girl’s shoulder. Startled by the unexpected contact, she recoiled on instinct. A flash of disappointment quirked in the Queen’s lip at the sudden motion, but she registered it quickly and readjusted her presence by taking a step back from the girl and opening a path to the table with a gesture.

“I was asking how you wanted your tea. Is there a specific blend you would prefer?” she moved to take the kettle off the burner. 

Now resituated at the table, Adora pondered on this. She’d never had tea before. Perhaps Queen Angella could just decide for her so she wouldn’t make the wrong choice. “What do you think is best?”

The Queen returned to the table with two cups and set one down in front of Adora. “Here. I think you will enjoy this type of tea,” she said with an encouraging smile.

Inhaling, Adora took note of the tranquil aroma steaming from the cup. Carefully, she copied the Queen’s motions and sipped on the liquid, poking her pinky out in an attempt to appear as composed as the Queen. The warm, smooth liquid was as calming as its scent. Adora was still quite on edge, but she found herself easing into her spot more.

“This is wonderful ,” she whispers to herself, savoring her new companionship with the drink that was setting her at more ease. 

She hears a small chuckle from across the table and she’s reminded of reality again.

“Oh! Um, thank you, Your Majesty--” Adora stiffens again, remembering their conversation earlier, “--Angella. Sorry.”

Adora caught the Queen’s flinch in reaction to her apology. Whatever resolve Angella had, it was slowly fracturing in her presence. Was she mad underneath this collected persona?

“Adora, how have you been adjusting to Bright Moon?” Angella inquired, studying the soldier in front of her.

“It’s… it’s been good.” Her face heated up as she croaked out the end of the sentence. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the truth, either. Angella and she both knew this. Taking another sip of tea, Adora tried to calm down. Clearing her throat, she attempted to better answer the question. “It’s definitely different from the Horde. A good difference, but also a lot--not that a lot is bad! It’s just… different. But thank you for your hospitality--for letting me stay. I’m not sure what I would’ve done otherwise. And again, I am sorry for Plumeria and I will accept whatever punishment you see fit for my reckless actions.” Adora decides to put an end to her rambling by bringing the cup to her lips and taking a large gulp.

Angella withdrew into her own thoughts. Adora partially wished she hadn’t made herself bring up Plumeria, but if she wanted to be seen as trustworthy to the Rebellion, she needed to take ownership over her actions and commands. Peering out from the cup still raised to her lips, Adora noticed a single tear roll down the Queen’s cheek.

“Is that what would happen growing up in the Horde?”

Adora placed her cup down with a gentle clink on the table. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Here, all regality disappeared from the Queen’s normal aura, but instead of annoyance or caring anger taking over like when she’d bicker with her daughter, all Adora could see was a calm concern. It made Adora feel bad about her answer to the question, like somehow it was wrong even though it was the truth.

“Yes.”

Maybe the answer only felt wrong because Adora realized that maybe how she and others were treated was wrong.

Maybe it didn’t matter how much she did to appease her Commanding Officer.

Maybe it didn’t matter how well Catra did in training.

The only things that seemed to matter were imperfections and weaknesses and how best to stomp them out.

And even then, maybe some people were just targeted from the beginning.

Constantly being told that they were nothing, no matter what they did.

“But it’s okay, Your Majesty, I learned from my mistakes in training and growing up early on. Shadow Weaver made sure we all understood that there was no room allowed for error. Failure and mediocrity result in consequences.”

What a terrible lie that was. Adora knew it, too.

Angella moved from her side of the table to embrace the girl on the other side. She’d hoped that she’d never have to hear about the sorceress again, but deep down, she knew it to be extremely naive to think that Shadow Weaver had disappeared just because she stopped receiving any word about her doings in the Fright Zone. And now the evidence was right before her, trying not to break down in her arms.

Adora’s own resolve was beginning to crack. The buildup of everything that had happened in the past weeks was churning inside and she was trying not to implode. Leaving the Horde left her with complex emotions and emptiness. Joining the Rebellion gave her a new sense of  purpose that she clung onto, but its chaos and completely different environment was overwhelming to say the least. And now, its leader was sitting in a kitchen with her, holding tight. There were so many more emotions in Bright Moon than in the Horde.

“I’m sorry for the upset,” Adora tried.

Angella pulled back and braced her, peering into her eyes. “Adora. You have nothing to apologize for here. Not even for the events in Plumeria. You have done more active good in these past two weeks than I have done in the past decade. You are worthy and valued here. Understood? No harm will come to you inside these castle walls.”

Angella pulled her back in and felt Adora finally express some of what she truly felt. Small restrained sobs racked through her body as she let herself be just a little bit vulnerable. Eventually, her breathing evened out. And she finally slept.

The Matriarch brought her back to bed. Set down on the firm mattress, Adora slightly startled awake, recollecting the events of the night. The moment was still heavy with emotion and her body heavy with exhaustion, but one question remained on her mind.

“What was the tea called?”

Angella softly laughed in response to the question, “Lavender and chamomile.”

Adora’s eyes began to flutter closed again. The Queen turned and slowly retreated to let her sleep.

“Queen Angella?”

She turned at the tired call of her name.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” 

The Queen walks back over to the girl and places a gentle kiss on her temple before brushing her hair back and exiting.

It had only been two weeks since the soldier defected and came to Bright Moon, but Angella considered Adora one of her own.

Chapter Text

She’s quiet for a while. Catra doesn’t bother her, though. This quiet is okay; it’s the type of remembrance and deep thought. She doesn’t know what memory is playing out in Adora’s mind, but she sees her eyes grasp at a progression of events that only she can recall. Her face shows a deep fondness for the Queen in front of them. Squeezing her partner’s shoulder, Catra briefly turns her attention back up to the mural. 

Up to the Queen who gave her life fixing one of Catra’s greatest wrongs. She’s really glad no one else is here in this moment.

But moments are only moments, only existing for a breath in the whole of time. One ear flicks toward the open doors as someone approaches from the echoing corridors. They aren’t the quiet thumps of Bow’s or Glimmer’s light pattering; Catra can’t quite place the pattern to a person. Granted, she hasn’t really spent time with anyone outside of those two dopes and her idiot girlfriend. 

Is Adora my girlfriend now?  

She’s not sure of the label. 

Maybe Adora is also unsure. They will always be ‘friends,’ but this is uncharted territory. 

Well, we did kiss… I guess that confirms it? 

But we’ve always loved each other. 

Were we always girlfriends?

Catra turns to Adora, pulling her out of her memories by clasping both hands in hers and peering intently into the blonde’s eyes. Adora regains her footing in the present and returns the gaze into the deep abysses of turquoise and gold. She’ll never admit to anyone else--other than the girl in front of her--that those deep troves of emotion and thought are one of her favorite sights in the world.

On a routine trip to Plumeria, Adora discovered the beauty of flowers. Specifically, she found herself in a field of sunflowers and immediately thought of Catra. She wasn’t sure what a sun was at the time, especially because Etheria had moonbeams from 12 different moons to provide light and cycle the tides and seasons, but nonetheless, the vibrant yellow hue of the petals reminded Adora of her eye. Even with their friendship in shambles, Adora hoped to bring Catra to Plumeria just to see the sunflowers. Just to find beauty in something again, just like she used to in the rare bright rocks scattered around ashen rubble piles in the Fright Zone, or in the high up places where she and Adora could overlook the smoggy landscape. Adora wanted her to feel safe. And free. And laugh her squeaky, raspy laugh that she missed. And to brightly smile again. 

Catra could outshine all of the sunflowers in the world. 

And now without any looming threats, with Catra by her side again, she can take her.

The only signal Catra needs to know that Adora is focused on her is that stupid, softhearted look only reserved for her. Catra touches her forehead to Adora’s, letting her eyes flutter shut to savor the moment. Outwardly, she allows her own smile to play on her lips as she blinks her eyes open. Adora leans forward, smile widening.

“Hey Adora, are we girlfriends?”

“Of course we are, Catra. We’re girls and we’re friends, right?”

This girl. Catra laughs at her oblivious response, “I know that , dummy, but are we girlfriends ?”

Oh. 

Brief unsureness occupies Adora’s face as Catra’s words process in her head, but it’s replaced as fake confidence swells inside her and a sly grin spreads to her cheeks as mischief sparks in her eyes. “Does this answer your question?” she breathes before closing the gap between her and Catra’s lips.

It’s been less than a day since she first kissed her, but Catra can easily decide that she will never get tired of kissing those lips. That face. Her. Holding Adora. Loving her. She’ll spend eternities expressing her love for her if it was just them in the universe and no one else. 

But there are others in the universe, others on Etheria, and others coming ever so closer to the door to ruin their privacy. Her ears swivel to the sound again, noticing now that there are actually two pairs of steps, in complete sync with each other. One heavier and in a steady rhythm, the other just skimming the floor. And they are going to walk in. And the private space will become public.

Adora, oblivious to the approaching couple, deepens her connection to her partner. Letting herself linger on Catra’s lips, she lets emotions flood to her head. Love. Light. Bliss. Warmth. 

Guilt.

Shame.

Remorse.

For a few moments, she forgot about last night. Specifically how she had no control. And how Catra had to deal with the burden of Adora’s messy, stupid emotions and baggage on top of her own. But of course her head led her to these emotions. She knows Catra barely slept. Hell, Adora didn’t really, either. It’s not fair to Catra. She shouldn’t have needed her to take care of her last night. Adora should have been able to take care of herself. At least that’s what she thinks.

I need to apologize .

She’ll actively avoid broaching the subject, but she can and will pour all of her love and expressions of regret into this kiss. How much she cares for Catra. How she needs to be strong for her. How she needs to support her. How she will be fine and doesn’t need her companion to worry. How she shouldn’t worry. How much of herself she’s willing to give away to ensure that Catra will never be harmed again. To never let Catra down. To take care of her. To make sure that Catra will continue to love her back. 

Nothing will ever measure up to how much she loves Catra. 

As they break apart, heads still together, Catra remains subconsciously fixed on the footsteps as the couple enters through the door. 

Ohhhh. 

It’s the married couple.

Snapping her eyes open, she immediately meets eyes with Netossa, who immediately smirks, stops walking, and grabs her wife’s attention. Spinnerella melts at the sight of Catra and Adora and turns back to her wife, responding and conversing with her own set of looks. Catra embarrassedly blushes, remembering her current environment. 

Adora’s false hubris is evident. She’s giddy over the intimate moment, but Catra notices the tremor in her hands, the slight discomfort and hesitance before fully committing to her kiss. The fact that Adora’s eyes are closed to concentrate on her smile to keep from any self-doubt from seeping out. Catra can see through her tactics. Adora’s just as lost as she is in this new territory of their relationship. And she’s trying so damn hard trying to mask any sign of panic or uncertainty. Oh you idiot, I see you pretending. Adora can hide and avoid feelings, better than most think, but trying to create new feelings and put on a persona is something that she cannot. At all. But Adora started this charade and Catra will gladly one-up her. 

Ignoring the small chuckles from across the room, Catra closes her eyes and gently rubs her nose against Adora’s, freeing her purr to rumble from deep within. She pulls Adora even closer, wrapping her tail around Adora’s ankle, hoping to ground some part of the turbulence in the blonde’s mind and her own. 

“I don’t know, did it?” Catra heavily breathes. She blinks open her eyes to see Adora fluster and begin to overthink. Of course Adora didn’t expect that answer to her question. Sighing, Catra places a quick peck on the corner of Adora’s lips. “It’s okay not to know, idiot. I’m just as in the dark as you are.”

A warm giggle bubbles up and Adora blinks her eyes and looks at the cat opposite her before spreading her lips into a genuine smile, “Oh yeah?” She steps back, smugly crossing her arms and taking in the sight before her. Her eyebrow quirks at this small admission. Catra almost never admitted to being wrong or not knowing something. Maybe this means growth? Allowing herself to be more vulnerable? Whatever it is, it surprises Adora, but she’ll bask in this sight of Catra’s uncertainty.

That is… until the cat mirrors her and adopts her own self-satisfied simper, tail playfully flicking as her ears raise and point in a direction toward the table before focusing on Adora. “Now I know how your brain must feel all the time--assuming you have an undamaged one, but that’s a really optimistic assumption given that it’s you,” she baits tongue-in-cheek.

“My brain is fine!” More or less . “And I know lots of things,” Adora snorts.

“Really?” It’s too easy to mess with Adora. “What was it you said yesterday, then? Something like, ‘Did we ever find out what Grayskull is?’” she mocks.

Adora’s eyes widen and her cocky aura flickers out.

Gotcha.

Catra bursts out in laughter. The married couple at the table is definitely invested in watching this interaction now. All Catra has to do is deliver the final blow. “Seriously, you spent how many years saying that dumb phrase to access She-Ra and you still don’t know what you were fighting in the honor for?” 

She almost falls in her own fit of laughter, but ultimately it’s Adora who tackles her to the ground. Both giggle and banter as they wrestle and roughly push each other’s faces. Locking hands, Catra lets Adora roll and pin her. A devilish smirk grows on her face.

“What?” Adora says, exasperated.

All Catra does is flit her eyes toward the table. Adora follows with her head. Her body freezes.

“You two girlfriends having fun over there?” Netossa calls, her attention undivided. Spinnerella throws in a knowing wink.

Adora considers the situation. They’re both wrestling on the tile. Catra’s under her. Both are flustered, but her more than Catra. Breathing heavy, giggling like a couple of idiots. Adora straddling this girl’s waist. Netossa and Spinnerella are the only others in the room--for how long, who knows. Well, everyone but her apparently.

She turns back to Catra. Honey blonde wisps frame her face. Red burns through her cheeks as her palms get clammy in Catra’s. Light from the morning’s moons float behind her, outlining her in a rose-golden glow. She is ethereal.

And embarrassed.

And possibly about to kill the person pinned under her.

“Hey Adora, do you know how adorable you are when you get flustered?”

“Catra,” Adora says low, “how long have they been there?”

“Hmm… not sure.”

“ Catra .”

“Don’t worry that kiss is only ours. They came in right after, though,” she giggles.

“You insufferable brat!” Adora laughs. She pushes Catra’s cheek one more time and gets up, giving her a hand and yanking her up.

“It’s always fun distracting you.” Catra’s tail brushes against Adora’s wrist as she moves toward the table, stopping as she holds out her hand, waiting for Adora to take it.

Embarrassed as she is, the moment brings a smile to Adora’s face. Maybe she and Catra can finally breathe now that they’re on the same side and not under the gripping shadows of manipulation and danger. Maybe. She’s still unsure about whether or not they’re girlfriends, though. Maybe Spinnerella and Netossa would know, considering they’re married. Taking the other’s hand, she lets herself be pulled over to the table.

“Is there assigned seating at these things? I’m assuming these chairs are for certain princesses, but what about the regular ones?” Catra gestures to the arrangement around the war table.

“As long as you don’t take my chair!”

Both jump in surprise at the sound of Swift Wind’s enthusiastic voice behind them. He poses, mane naturally flowing, eyes shimmering. He definitely put practice into this.

Adora supposes that people are starting to show up now. She’ll ask Spinnerella and Netossa about the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing later. Her steed has the worst timing. “Swift Wind, when did you get here?”

“Only a few moments ago! I’m surprised neither of you heard me come in. Usually people know when I enter… hmp.”

“Swifty that’s because you always manage to announce your arrival!”

Catra eyeballs the pair, and glances back over to a table of regular-sized chairs. “So, Swifty, where’s your chair?”

Netossa and Spinnerella violently shake their heads. Adora gives her a face of annoyed dread. Obviously Swift Wind doesn’t have a chair--he’s a magical horse. Horses can’t even sit in chairs. But Catra is okay with being a pain, at least to Adora. The other couple in the room seems alright, too. I mean, both tried to kill me on sight at some point in the last few weeks, but they seem more okay with me existing than some of the other princesses.  

The other princesses. 

Which would be here soon.

Some of which were chipped until yesterday and may not know where Catra currently stands. Others who still don’t trust her. Or like her.

The last one she can live with--it’s not like she likes princesses, either. Or trust them in some cases. Magic is still a touchy subject.

Either way, she’s beginning to realize how painful it will be to sit through this meeting. She didn’t even plan on going--about to actively avoid it, actually--until Glimmer and Bow insisted. And then the Queen ordered her to. What for? She still cannot figure out. They seemed really excited and insistent. They were planning something, which meant that Catra should worry.

And deep down, worried she is. 

So she’ll enjoy being a puckish thorn in Adora’s side--and also Spinnerella and Netossa’s, too now since they seem alright with her--until the others show up. “I wouldn’t want to sit in such an important spot,” she grins, latching onto Adora at the hip. 

She turns and locks eyes with Netossa who shoots her a teasing death glare and whispers, only for her ears, “I will kill you.” She’s met with the immature catgirl sticking out her tongue. All she can do is shake her head and laugh at the kid and her girlfriend, though Netossa’s not sure if they even know what that means, considering how little the Horde focused on any type of personal relationship. At least she and Spinny do, because if she’s being honest, Catra’s been growing on her in the past few weeks. She’s a total pain in the ass, but she fiesty and competitive, and cares somewhere underneath the hard exterior she’s built up. Not that Netossa will ever admit it to anyone other than her wife, but she has enjoyed her few interactions with Catra and is glad that there’s someone else in the Alliance that is more realistic, tactical, and blunt. And she seems to balance Adora out, like she was the missing piece to keeping the girl together. Netossa can relate. Her gaze shifts from the spunky cat to her wife, who lovingly smiles, chuckling at the previous exchange. A soft thumb rubs gently over the back of her hand, which lightly squeezes in reciprocation.

“Well, I will have a chair when the Alliance finally makes one for me.”

And the moment is ruined.

A pink shimmer flashes, signaling the arrival of more people.

“Swift Wind, are you complaining about the chair again ?” Glimmer snaps, face-palming as Bow groans. “Can we at least start rebuilding Etheria before you bitch about it? Please?”

“Fine,” he huffs.

“Good.” She turns in regard to everyone else in the room. “Now, I’ll be back with the other princesses in a few!” she sings.

Disappearing just as quickly as she appeared, the young ruler takes off to gather other members of the Alliance.

Maybe she should’ve pardoned Catra yesterday right after she came out of the Heart with Adora. Everyone was in a state of momentary euphoria then, but after the Queen teleported them all to their respective kingdoms to survey damages in hopes of reporting back today to plan rebuilding efforts, the anger came back. Queen Glimmer may have been able to keep enough peace to officially announce that the war with the Etherian and Galactic Horde was over, but the minute she said the words “pardon” and “Catra” in the same sentence, half of the room broke out in angry commotion. 

Specifically those chipped who have no idea about Catra’s whereabouts and hardships over the recent months.

Specifically General Juliet and the other few members of the Bright Moon guard also in the room.

Not Scorpia or Micah, who sit quietly and observe the angry chorus of voices clash against a second group of voices that try to calm them down and defend Catra. But specifically the Princess of Salineas, who is currently being held back by Sea Hawk and Entrapta’s hair.

Mermista turns her anger on Glimmer, shaking off Sea Hawk’s grip, but still out of her chair. “Are you serious?! You’re just going to excuse this war criminal? After everything she’s done to hurt all of us?”

“Mermista if you would let me finish I--”

“How are the rest of you sitting here fine with this?! After kidnapping high-ranking members of the Rebellion? After constantly going after She-Ra? Opening a portal? After destroying my kingdom? Why pardon any of that?” Her attention shifts over to Catra, eye burning holes into her, “This criminal deserves nothing more than to spend the rest of her worthless life rotting in a prison cell.”

When Catra heard Glimmer start talking about her ‘first act after the war’ while eyeing and grinning at her, she got nervous about what would come out of the girl’s mouth next. The mention of pardoning her makes a little sense looking back now , but it came as a shock to her. Followed by the quick mix of feelings of disbelief and dread. Maybe it was easy to convince Bow to give her a pardon, but these princesses definitely would be harder. 

And the hardest to convince--Catra herself.

The water princess’ outburst isn’t that much of a shock to Catra--but her rehashing and laying out all of Catra’s wrongs hits her. Hard. 

Worthless . 

That’s what Shadow Weaver always said about her.

Stop it, she’s dead .

Her poisonous words still drip into Catra’s mind, plaguing her thoughts and reminding her of the woman’s strong grasp on her. 

She knew this meeting would be hard, but this leaves her feeling raw and numb. Usually the walls go up at this point in a verbal assault, but the brutal reminder of Shadow Weaver leaves her vulnerable and open to be striked at. A hand finds hers under the table. Long and rough fingers slide between hers and clasp, giving an extra squeeze. It lingers, waiting for a response. Small tears brim at her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Not here. She turns her head to Adora, searching her worried face. Are you okay? The question is so simple with so many answers, but Catra knows exactly what Adora means. Her soft and slender hand offers a small squeeze back. She gives a small nod to her before turning her attention back to the monstrous chaos about her.

“MERMISTA!”

The whole room goes quiet and the Queen recomposes herself at the head of the table. 

“While Catra has fought on the side of the Etherian Horde and is partially responsible for several things that have happened over the past three years--”

“Well that’s an understatement,” the General mutters to herself.

Glimmer harshly clears her throat before continuing, “She is the only reason why I am alive. I am not asking you all for forgiveness or to like her, but I am saying that she has redeemed herself to me for everything she has done in the past few months.” And for everything done to her . “She will have to redeem herself to the rest of you on your terms, but in pardoning her, I am saying to give her the chance to, and recognize that she’s not the only person who has done terrible things, voluntarily and involuntarily, during this war--many of us have committed acts that would be deemed war crimes.”

The room’s aura violently shifts. She doesn’t have to name any examples for many members at the table to think back to the past three years. And she doesn’t need to mention her biggest mistake, which half of the room’s members supported at the time, because she knows all of them are reflecting back on it. Glimmer takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I owe her my life. She has greatly contributed to the Rebellion in ending the war, and when it comes down to it, she’s one of the main reasons why all of us are sitting here relatively unharmed. With her tactical skills, she got us through Horde Prime’s blockade. She helped liberate towns and villages in the Whispering Woods upon our return. She helped track our chipped friends down. And most importantly, she helped release Etheria’s magic from the Heart with Adora.” 

Glimmer steals a knowing glance to Bow, who beams back. Both look to Catra, who has shrunken into her chair and is giving them both an embarrassed death stare. Adora looks confusedly between her friends, trying to pick up on whatever silent conversation they’re currently having.

“And with that, I decree that Catra, former Force Captain and Second Commanding Officer of the Etherian Horde, is officially pardoned.”

A tear escapes Catra’s eye as the whole room focuses in on her. If she could, she would sink further into the chair until she disappeared. But she can’t. And she can’t find words in response to what just happened. She holds her breath. Never did she ever think that she and Sparkles would get along, and she never thought that anyone, let alone the Queen of Bright Moon, would vouch for her. The silence of the room slows down time. She doesn’t know what anyone is thinking. It isn’t until Netossa starts clapping and cheering when the energy picks up and she can see smiles break out on several faces as they join in applause. Firm arms wrap around and pull her in close. 

“I love you so much,” Adora whispers, kissing her forehead and rubbing circles into her back.

Catra finally exhales. She breathes in the faint scent of lavender and vanilla, nuzzling into the white fabric of Adora’s shirt. She doesn’t even care who sees this moment of vulnerability. Let them. They can insinuate whatever they want and come to their own conclusions.

“Wait but the last time I saw you before Horde Prime’s defeat, you were running away with Melog,” Entrapta points out.

This is why we can’t have nice things. Catra has always respected Entrapta’s observational skills and brutal honesty, but it is nicer when she’s not the subject of her analyses.

Catra unfolds from Adora’s embrace. “Well, Entrapta, I changed my mind.”

“Oh really? And what made you change your mind?” Glimmer teasingly chimes in.

A lock of purple hair separates itself from the bundle as it cups Entrapta’s chin as she ponders the piece of information. As she inputs it into her trackerpad and looks back up at Catra and then Adora, her face brightens and she furiously starts typing. “Given that you left because Adora took the failsafe and upset you, but now you two are displaying an influx of affectionate behaviors, one can infer that Catra’s change of mind was a strong emotional response probably related to Adora! You could say it was a change of heart!” she beams, inputting her data.

Both girls are bright red. Adora’s beginning to pick up on the subtle feud between Glimmer, Catra, and Bow, as Catra’s furious blush and dagger eyes at the two betray her usual nonchalance and Glimmer and Bow’s giggle and smirk whispers back and forth while focusing all of their attention on Catra. Seriously, what were they talking about this morning? 

Catra crosses her arms, “Y’know, Horde Prime injecting a virus into the whole planet was pretty good motivation to turn around and help.”

“Yeah! You and Shadow Weaver did show up after the virus started infecting the planet,” Bow adds, feeling just the tiniest bit guilty for poking fun at Catra in a large meeting.

“Interesting I’ll have to make a note about that. Speaking of, where is Shadow Weaver?” Entrapta cuts in, still laser-focused on her task at hand.

All eyes are once again on Adora and Catra. They quickly meet the other’s stare and both pale. Instinctively, Adora takes Catra’s hand under the table and clutches onto it as if it would fall out of her grasp at any moment. The feline returns with her own firm grasp before both turn back to the faces around the table. King Micah searches them for answers as Casta shifts her eyes from the pair to her brother.

.

.

.

The longer their silence sits in their hollow frames, the more the answer settles into the group. 

Catra’s ear flicks in Adora’s direction. The pads of the blonde’s fingers rub against her thumb and the palm of her free hand in a squeezing motion. There’s more weight to her breathing. She’s trying hard to not break right now. Catra has her own conflicting feelings and unpleasant thoughts surrounding Shadow Weaver’s demise--hell, she honestly wants to yell and cry out right now--but one thing that she can see clearly now regarding her and Adora’s tumultuous relationship with their Commanding Officer is that Adora isn’t to blame for her treatment. And furthermore, Shadow Weaver did not love Adora. Or even favor her. She never did. She instead programmed and utilized her, leaving her with no agency. Catra’s sure that being away from the Horde probably helped Adora realize that, but even three years later Catra has seen how Shadow Weaver’s molding and manipulations still exist in Adora’s mind, shrouding her in a sense of self-blame, obligation, and--

Worthless.

Worthlessness. She really made them both feel as if their lives don’t have any value. That Catra only holds people back and has no value without Adora. That Adora’s value is conditional and solely dependent on what she can do for people.

You’re welcome.

Catra is now the one to reach and embrace. Pressing her frame against Adora’s tense one, she rubs up and down her shoulder and arm, rumbling a small purr. “Hey, breathe for me, okay?” she whispers into her ear, listening and waiting for an eased breath to come. Adora’s been doing the same for her since the Velvet Glove. Now she’s helping her. They’ll just have to support and help each other.

As she quietly talks Adora through her distress, the room remains quiet and solemn.

Entrapta hesitantly breaks the silence. “So is she…” The question dies on her lips, but Catra makes eye contact and gives a single resolute nod in confirmation. Entrapta nods back and begins to type again on her trackerpad.

After a much-needed 30-minute breather from an emotional first half of the morning, the Alliance meeting continued and concluded without a hitch. Effective tomorrow, the newly named Etherian Union--because what was there to even rebel against anymore--would begin reconstruction with immediate aid being sent to the Kingdom of Salineas and to villages in the Whispering Woods. There were still many things to discuss over the coming days and weeks, like what would become of the Fright Zone, how to handle all of the misplaced Horde clones, what to do with Hordak, when it would be acceptable to throw a ball to celebrate the end of the war, will there be any Horde loyalists lingering and how much of a threat are they, the list went on and on. But this was a good start. 

Adora and Catra still sit in their chairs, watching as the room fills with talkative and restless energy as people get up to mingle. The blonde’s less shaken now, and she sweeps her gaze from Bow and Glimmer to the girl sitting next to her.

“So… what did you talk about this morning?” she smugly cocks an eyebrow and folds her arms. 

Catra annoyedly sighs, taking time to carefully choose her words, “We talked about a lot , but I briefly mentioned finding you in the Heart, and of course that sent our friends in to a fucking tizzy.” She keeps it vague and leaves out the reason why she sought out Glimmer and Bow in the first place. They barely even got to talk about what happened last night because Sparkles and Arrow Boy digressed. A lot. 

“I probably should get going--Adora’s definitely awake by now and I should go see how she’s doing and ask her about the meeting.” Catra jumped off the window seat and reached the door. Glimmer and Bow rolled off and followed her to see her out. 

As Catra was about to head down the hall, Glimmer gently tugged her wrist from the doorway, only to quickly let go when Catra slightly flinced. “Sorry! Still working on boundaries,” she hesitantly smiled.

Catra nodded in acknowledgement. Glimmer’s smile faded into a more serious, worried face. “I know we didn’t really get to talk all that much about last night. We both know that’s why you came by.”

“It’s alright Sparkles, we’ll talk about it later when things are more organized… I have a feeling that this is more than just last night’s nervous episode. I… I would know.”

“Yeah Bow kinda filled me in on what was happening down here while we were, y’know, beamed up into space.”

He entered the door frame behind Glimmer. “And know that you can come talk to us anytime if you’re comfortable. We want to support Adora and you. You guys are our friends.”

“Thanks guys.” 

Catra began to slink away.

“Hey, um, Catra?”

“Yeah, Bow?”

“Physically, is Adora okay? It’s just that she tends to get hurt or doesn’t take care of herself and then tries to hide it and dismiss it. And not that I ever doubted her, but… there was a moment where we thought that she didn’t make it to the failsafe, or it didn’t work...”

“That’s because it didn’t at first.”

Both Bow and Glimmer turned to each other in shock. “What? How did--”

“Look, I found Adora after some creature down there sliced a large gash into her side and infected her with Prime’s virus. It also got me on my leg, but Adora was definitely in worse shape.”

“But she is okay now?” Bow pressed.

“Yeah, she’s got a few scrapes and scars, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything bad. I mean, she has the failsafe scarred into her chest now--I don’t know if she’s noticed it yet, though--but I haven’t seen anything other than that. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Glimmer stood there, pondering for a moment before looking Catra up and down. “You said the creature got you, too?”

“Oh, yeah. But it got healed. There’s a dull ache and a faint burn, but I’m okay. I think my clothes retained more damage than I did,” she let out a laugh, kicking her leg lazily out. They all looked down at the large tears on her stocking. “I am gonna need new clothes, though, since we’ve been fighting, running, hiding for weeks, and the infected guardian creature ripped through one of two changes.”

“Right! Good thing you’re at least healed…” Glimmer whistled. Suddenly, her brows furrowed and she turned to look at Catra again in deep thought.

Catra stretched her arms up and eventually began carding her claws through her short thick mane. “Yeah, though I thought we were going to die. It surprised me that we even ki--” she choked on the word, trying to recover from her slip up, but she didn’t even need to blurt the whole thing for the two in front of her to register the information she just accidentally spilled.

Sparkles spun her whole body to face Arrow Boy as they started babbling and ‘awwing’.

“Hey! Stop it you two. You’re both doing that thing with your faces,” Catra snapped.

“No wonder Adora came out glowing!” Arrow Boy squealed as his eyes grew big.

“No--what?--No, she was glowing because she found She-Ra again!” her voice went up as she flustered.

Sparkles folded her arms, shifting her weight back. “Uh huh, and just how did she manage that? Because it sounds like it was through the power of love,” she drew out the ‘o’ in ‘love,’ making the cat’s tail bristle as the couple teased her. 

“Ugh! You guys are the fucking worst!” Catra groaned and stomped off in search of Adora.

“Wait Catra come back! We need to know who confessed first! We have bets to settle!” he shouted after her, still smiling.

“Fuck you!” she replied.

Catra doesn’t want to hide her relationship with Adora--she’s actually rather elated to be able to be more affectionate considering it wasn’t allowed back in the Horde--but she’s always been more of a private person, and she wanted to leave the secret-swapping and pillow fights--or whatever Adora, Sparkles, and Arrow Boy do as friends--to Adora because of the response she knew it would evoke. It’s a bit late for that now, though.

Adora snorts at Catra's comment, “ Our friends , huh? It’s almost like you like them! Are you going soft on me?”

“What?! No!”

Both girls burst out into laughter as they push and shove each other in their chairs, enjoying the organic, easy flow of conversation that they have been having for the majority of the day. 

A nervous Bow approaches them, switching his glance back and forth between Glimmer, who’s on the other side of the table half-invested in a conversation with Mermista and signalling to Bow with her hands, and the two at the table--Catra now sitting in Adora’s lap--who have already picked up on his antics.

“Heyyyyy guys,” his voice cracks.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you and Sparkles conspiring over there.”

“What? No…” he lies, voice still cracking. “I just came by to say good morning!”

“I saw you literally after the first moonrise.”

“But I haven’t seen Adora! How are you? Loving your outfit!” Nervous energy is just radiating off of him.

“Bow, I wear the same thing everyday,” Adora says. She lets her focus go over to Glimmer, raises a brow, and smirks. The Queen facepalms.

Bow chuckles and tries to think of some way to ease back into conversation. “Yeah, but you’re not wearing your jacket today! That’s something different!”

My torn, bloody jacket on the floor of my room.

Adora senses Catra stealing a glance at her. Her partner must’ve noticed the unease as her smile falters. After the events of yesterday being preserved in the jacket, Adora has no wish to put it on. She knows that she could easily get it patched again and that the blood will come out as it has before after other battles and situations, but this time she just wants to let go. It was her favorite article of clothing--the one thing that was hers and hers alone in the Horde. And in the Rebellion, it was her last tie to her old life, to Catra. But now… she doesn’t want it. She can’t wear it. She won’t wear it. Even if it got repaired again.

“Y’know, I think I expressed wanting some different clothes this morning,” Catra snarks. Adora grows a slight smile and softly laughs at the comment. Catra’s always been good at reading her emotions and responding to a situation. 

“Right! We can go to the tailors today or tomorrow to fill your wardrobe. Oooh maybe we can make it a Best Friends Squad trip and we could all get new clothes! I could help you decide what to wear!” he beams, voice building in excitement as he plans the rest of their day.

“I’m pretty sure I have better fashion sense than you, Captain Crop Top. But sure, we could all use an update and some variety in our closets.” 

Both sets of eyes wander to Adora. She’s snorting in laughter at the new name Catra’s given to Bow. It isn’t until she opens her eyes to wipe away a tear that she sees both staring at her. “What? My clothes are fine!”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“They are! They’re functional in battle and serve their purpose.” And they give me some sense of purpose.

“Yes, but Adora, do you want to wear them? You don’t have to keep wearing the same uniform forever.”

Adora pauses. And turns inward.

Putting her palm against Adora’s cheek, Catra draws her to her eyes. “Hey, we can talk about it later,” she slowly blinks.

“What’s going on?” Glimmer strolls up behind Bow and hugs him on the side. He gives her a peck on top of her head. 

“What’s going on with you two?” Catra judges.

“Yeah, what’s this?” Adora motions back and forth between the two of them. “Did you guys finally find the guts to admit your feelings for each other?”

Glimmer and Bow look quizzically at the blonde.

“How did you know we both had unexpressed feelings for each other?” Bow asks.

“I mean, I had my suspicions since Princess Prom, but it’s been pretty obvious recently.”

The pair blush, but Glimmer then laughs teasingly and goes in for the kill. “Oh you want to talk about obvious ? Adora, I’ve seen you and Catra fight like exes, banter, make things super personal in the middle of a fucking war,  sleep in the same bed, cuddle, hold hands, blush and giggle like idiots, and that’s just scratching the surface. Yet you two are so dense that you were literally the last two people to figure out that the other had feelings. And let me tell you, everyone figured it out pretty early on.”

Catra and Adora go wide-eyed.

“Speaking of, can you please tell us what happened in the Heart?”

Adora thinks about mentioning Catra’s confession, but she can’t bring herself to expand on the circumstances that brought them to that point. 

Or that she was pretty much dead. 

Maybe one day, but not today.

Smiling sweetly, she shakes her head.

“Nope,” Catra pops the ‘p.’ She doesn’t want to elaborate on her other half dying in her arms as she broke down and yelled at her to wake up, whispering how much she loved her and begging her to stay. 

The Queen scowls and Catra puts on a toothy grin. It doesn’t reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes make contact with Sparkles and then travel back to the other side of the table and she nods her head in that direction. Sparkles nods and heads over in the direction. Unfolding herself from Adora, Catra hops off and follows.

“Hey, um, Sparkles, in the meeting… for me… that was…” she meekly holds herself, rubbing her arms and dropping her eyes downward. Her ears fold as stays close, wrapped around her shin. 

Sparkles watches on, hesitant and unsure of whether to reach out or stay put. Inhaling deeply through her nose, Catra tenses before dropping her breath and unfolding her stature into a more focused, relaxed state. Confidence now a little stronger, Catra tries again. “Glimmer, thank you… for what you did back there. I really don’t deserve it.”

The Queen takes her hands. “But you do. You might not believe it now, but I know it, and so do Bow and Adora. And the longer you’re around, the more people will see it and agree.”

The feline uneasily nods, deciding not to push back against it.

Now overcome with her own set of nerves, Glimmer draws back, chuckling, “Actually, I’ve been thinking and I wanted to run something by you… well, a lot by you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Well, I want you to be the Alliance’s Commander Tactician…”

Catra nods, sensing there’s more.

“And furthermore, I’m going to need more structure as a ruler, and I was wondering if maybe… you would be my Chief Advisor.”

This takes Catra aback. “ Me? Why me?”

“I know you’ve only just gotten to Bright Moon, and I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and I’m just assuming that you’ll be in Bright Moon now, which is stupid, because I don’t even fucking know if you want to stay, or if Adora wants to stay for that matter, but all the time up on that dumb ship in space with no one around was a lot, but you helped so much, and I know you’ve only just joined us, and you’re probably wondering, ‘Oh why not your boyfriend? Or She-Ra for that matter?’ and while they are my best friends, I need someone who is less optimistic--oh fuck, I mean more realistic--and isn’t going to lie to me and won’t take my shit and--”  

Her rambling stops when Catra puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Okay,” her face breaks into an even, reassuring smile.

She’s snatched into a tight hug. 

A muffled voice says into her shoulder, “Welcome to Bright Moon.”

Their conversation about future planning is broken apart when a pincer lightly taps the Queen’s shoulder from behind. Glimmer and Catra both look up to find Scorpia waving, anxiously smiling. “Hey! Can I talk with Catra for a minute?” 

Glimmer nods and regards Catra, giving her a small parting wave before heading over to her dad.

“So… Shadow Weaver, huh? I did not see that coming with her being all power-hungry and stuff,” she uncomfortably chuckles, thinking back to the earlier news of her demise.

“Yeah, um, it was unexpected. The selfish drunk bitch still managed to fuck with our heads until the end, but yeah,” she grimaces as her hand finds its way to the back her head, fingers getting lost in the short brown tresses.

“Wait what?”

“Oh yeah she was totally fine sipping her wine while watching the world burn and letting Adora die to get more magic and shit. She was literally the fucking worst and--”

“No no no, that last bit. Did she do something to you guys down there? Are you both okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess,” Catra begins to pull into herself, growing smaller as she wraps around herself. The destructive flames of her anger and distress grow larger as it licks at the edges of her internal hatred and conflict, looking for something to catch and ignite. “It just--it took me a while to realize that she did just as much damage to Adora as she did to me… and even under Mystacor, even in the Heart, she was still manipulating, still using us and pushing us apart for personal gain and vengeance. That self-serving bitch burst into flames right in front of us, saying ‘you’re welcome’ as if she did us a great service.”

Scorpia shifts in stance. Downtrodden, she starts, “Catra… I’m sorry I left you in the Fright Zone. I knew that you were hurting, but it was just that--”

Brows furrowed, Catra shuts down her apology before she can even finish. “Stop! Scorpia, why the hell are you apologizing for that?” Realizing her sudden outburst at the person who has received the brunt of Catra’s negativity and deserved none of it, she breathes, collecting herself and her thoughts.

She reaches out and takes her pincer. “Scorpia… you have nothing to apologize for. Absolutely nothing, okay? I should be the one apologizing--for everything. And I wanted to say that yesterday. You had every right to leave that situation,” she says with sincerity.

“Wildcat…”

“No. I was absolutely horrible to you, and you stayed and endured so much of it. You were there for me in every single way, and yes, I was hurting from Adora leaving and from Shadow Weaver and Hordak, but it does not excuse how I treated you. I know that I treated you like complete shit and you do not have to accept my apology, nor do you have to forgive me. Maybe we won’t be able to rebuild our relationship. But no matter what, I am happy for you. You were able to save Entrapta by leaving and you’ve found better people here,” her voice strains, barely holding her resolve.

“You’re right. You did hurt me. And it hurt to see you hurt yourself by constantly pushing people away. It’ll take some time for us to heal and rebuild, but I think it’s possible. You’ve grown a lot since the last time I saw you. And you seem a lot happier, too,” her eyes shift over to Adora across the room. Catra follows her gaze. “Thank you for the apology. I… don’t know if I can fully forgive you for everything yet, though. I know Entrapta did while you all were on the ship, but,” Scorpia falters, though she does feel empowered by her honest communication.

“That’s okay, Scorpia. Don’t feel bad about it.” Catra pauses, gears turning. “You’ve been talking with Perfuma,” she hints, smirking.

“Yeah! Oh gosh, she’s just so nice and supportive, and--”

“You should definitely make your move.”

“Oh, I don’t--I don’t know about that… I haven’t been super successful in the romance department…”

“Scorpia, don’t let what happened--er, what didn’t happen--between us stop you. You obviously like her, and--don’t tell her I told you this but--she really likes you, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t shut up about how good of a friend you are and how much she cares for you and all that mushy stuff.”

“Aw, Wildcat get in here!” She picks her up and holds tight. 

Catra melts into the embrace, but soon needs to let go to breathe freely. “Hey. Scorpia. Air,” she manages.

Putting her back on the floor, Scorpia takes a minute to survey Catra, noticing the new way she holds herself, how much more simultaneously open and closed off she is. How she appears a little bit thinner and worn, yet she looks more alive and warm than she was last time. “You look better than last time. And I’m loving the shorter hair look!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t much of a choice on my part, but thanks.”

Scorpia immediately senses her apprehension from the tone of her voice. Ears dropping and shoulders curling inward, she shrinks even smaller. Oh? It’s only even more confirmed when Catra’s hand instinctively flies to the back of her neck. 

Oh .

Scorpia can’t recall anything from while she was chipped other than Prime’s control and thoughts and one brief moment of fuzziness in the Fright Zone. And she remembers Prime’s anger at Adora. And even moreso, his seething anger at Little Sister .

Little Sister, who originally disobeyed Prime and continued to resist and defy his will even when under his control.

Little Sister , whose shadowy elusive figure continued to pull at the edges of Scorpia’s blank mind.

Little Sister , whose raspy laugh constantly challenged authority both in the hivemind and in a previous life.

Little Sister …

Who was Catra.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks, leaving the question relatively open-ended.

“What? The healing chip wound on my neck or the memories of what happened?” Catra half-heartedly laughs, putting her protective walls back up again. Did Scorpia know what happened to her? Did all of the formerly chipped residents of Etheria and the greater universe see all of her suffering? Know every detail?

“If it makes you feel more secure, Prime covered up basically any and all information about you. I only just figured it out now when you put your hand on your neck, and I have a feeling that there was more to it than just a haircut and a neck chip,” Scorpia mutters at the end, both feeling for Catra and resenting Prime even more.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say I had the best time on his ship…”

“I’m here if you do want to talk about it, though. I won’t push and maybe I’m not the best person to talk to, but it might help to open up and talk. I think a lot of us need that right now--just talking and knowing we’re all supported.”

The other girl stands in silence, taking in her words. She replies with a slow nod, still holding her gaze to the floor. Then, a small snicker passes through her lips. “You really spent a lot of time with Perfuma, huh?” her giggles turn into laughter. “You should just marry her on the spot.”

Chapter Text

Of all places, Catra doesn’t expect to find herself back at the mosaic of the Queen she killed. At least she thinks she killed her--she certainly feels responsible for whatever happened to her, though. 

Maybe Glimmer would still have a mother. Maybe her dad and they could’ve reunited under better circumstances.

Or maybe not.

They only found him because she banished Entrapta and Scorpia left to save her.

But that still would’ve happened regardless of who closed the portal Catra opened.

Unless the Queen didn’t sacrifice herself.

Then the world would’ve ended.

Except it wouldn’t have because she knows Adora definitely would have put herself in the Queen’s place. She would’ve found a way.

Knowing her, even over a year later, she probably still thinks about needing to put herself in the Queen’s place.

And if she did, it would have been the end of my world.

Because that’s just who Adora is.

Who she was programmed to be.

Why did it take me so long to see?

Because in hurting them, Shadow Weaver set them up to hurt each other while keeping herself out of the crossfire. They were pieces on a chess board. All of this was by design.

Isolate Catra.

Keep Adora oblivious.

Make Catra bitter.

Torture Catra. Threaten her life again and again.

Tell Adora she’s responsible for her. She’s to blame.

Use and break Catra.

What could I have possibly done to deserve the way you treated me?

Use and break Adora.

If you care about her, focus on protecting her. The world needs She-Ra right now, not Adora. 

And if She-Ra can’t stop Prime, then we’re all doomed.

Love was finite. Conditional.

They both believed it.

In a way, she still believes it. She doesn’t want to, but she’s waiting for it to be true, even if it never will be.

Waiting to be thrown in a prison cell.

Waiting to be banished.

Waiting to do something that makes Adora love her less.

And then not at all.

Waiting for Glimmer to lash out and punish her for opening the portal. For causing her mother’s loss.

Yet today she was pardoned . For everything she did, she isn’t facing punishment from the Queen and the Alliance. Do her good deeds outweigh the bad? The bitchy water princess  doesn’t agree, but Glimmer seems to think so.

Maybe that’s why Catra’s here again in the vacant war room, hours later, staring at the divine being on the wall.

“I’m sorry,” she finds it meaningless now, but she feels the need to say it. Because she is. “... and thank you. For saving Adora. From herself,” she somberly chuckles at the last thought. Both girls really are self-destructive in their own way. 

Minutes pass. The sky slowly moves. Moonlight drifts subtly and the feline by the wall relies more on her eyes than the fading light to trace the outlines of the Queen immortalized in stone. Yet the soft light of the moons almost makes her glow, as if they are still connected, energies intertwined.

A larger figure appears at her side and stops, taking in the mural in silence. She decides not to disturb and keeps the silence, not shifting her gaze from what’s in front of them.

“Catra was it?” he lightly inquires, still looking at Angella above him, both in the mural and in the room.

She finally turns her body slightly toward him and nods looking up, “And you’re King Micah.”

He softly chuckles, “Just Micah now.”

There’s weight behind the statement, but she’s not sure she should ask.

He shifts and now trains his sight on her. “My daughter speaks highly of you. She told me that you’re a brilliant tactician and a good support. And you’re now her Chief Advisor,” he muses.

Sparkles obviously hasn’t told the King everything yet. Catra snorts, “She definitely wouldn’t have sung my praises a few months ago. In fact, she definitely used other choice words. And I did, too. ” Although this is her dad-- the King --that Catra’s talking to, she senses that he can take a joke or snide comment, even one that bites at his own daughter. If anything, this wall will keep him from thinking that she’s some kind of saint. He should know that she’s not a good person, even if she’s been on the ‘side of good’ recently.

His chest booms with laughter and lets it fill the crevices of the room in a joyful pride. “I’m sure you’d know her better than I do, but that sounds like my Glimmer. Even at a small age, she’s always been spirited,” he settles, wearing a bright smile, eyes full of love and gratitude. 

Catra can easily imagine a small Glimmer, no more than four, running around yelling obscenities after hearing them from a parent. She weakly smiles and chuckles. She anticipated this reaction.

What she doesn’t anticipate is his hand clamping down on her shoulder. And it jolts her. Body going stiff. Hair on end. Catra tries to stifle her gasp, but instead she chokes on it and ends up audibly inhaling even more air.

He registers this and recoils his hand. His eyes don’t read hurt, but worry, like he hurt her. And as she goes to hug herself, rubbing her fur back down, she peers back up in slight panic and apology. Slight recognition flashes through his expression, but it’s too quick for Catra to register and read. Nervously clearing his throat, he readjusts his stance, angling his body more open and clasping his hands in front, providing more space for her.

“ Thank you for keeping her safe,” he gently beams.

Catra’s attention shifts from Micah to Angella and back again. “You really shouldn’t thank me. I’ve caused a lot of damage and hurt a lot of people.”

But Micah doesn’t back away. In fact, he tries harder to reach out to Catra and get past her constricted wall. “I know about your history in the Horde from my daughter today and her friends months ago--Adora had briefly--”

“Then why are you thanking me?! I opened that fucking portal!”

She doesn’t let him finish.

“I know.”

The mural looms over Catra now.

Tired. He looks worn, but sturdy. Scars snake up his arms and around his shoulders, creeping underneath his shirt, surely twisting around his chest and back.

A souvenir from Beast Island she supposes.

Longing, but also at peace. A sad acceptance.

Silence.

“I’m sorry about Shadow Weaver. Not just her… passing , but for how you two grew up in the Horde. No person deserves to have ever been subject to anything like that.”

How does he-- Catra’s almost tempted to lash out in defense to keep from being pitied, but she’s also wondering how the hell he knows how they were raised, and more importantly, who the fuck told him. So she lets her wall slightly crumble and lets Micah approach her.

“It’s okay. You wouldn’t have known how she raised us.”

“Great expectations? Constant talk about strength and weakness? Wanting to obtain more power?”

Her eyes grow wide. “What? How did you--”

He turns and regards her, meeting her gaze with one of conflict and hurt. “I knew her as Light Spinner. And she was my mentor in Mystacor.”

Catra already vaguely knows this from their excursion to Mystacor two nights ago. His sister, Casta made it very clear that their history with Shadow Weaver was not one to recall fondly. But she senses that there’s more to it, so when Micah gestures toward the table and pulls a chair out for Catra, she obliges and sits, waiting for the man to sit and continue.

“She was my mentor until we cast the Spell of Obtainment. And then she wasn’t Light Spinner anymore. In retrospect, even as Light Spinner, there were elements of manipulation. I hadn’t noticed--I was young and naive. But she wanted to mold my power. Under her direction and only hers. She taught me all of the tools I needed to cast the Spell of Obtainment, and I, not knowing what it would do to people and to her, started to cast it. And then I stopped after I realized how dark the Spell was. It swallowed her and she became a magical parasite. Instead of using it to help fight the Horde like she originally proposed, she went and sought more power. She absorbed three members of the Sorcerer’s Guild and came for me next… but she spared me. I would like to think it was out of care, but I couldn’t reciprocate that back after what she’d done and where she went. I blamed myself for the longest time over what happened.” 

He strokes his chin, sitting on this thought. It obviously isn’t a new revelation for him, but some connection is happening as he ponders.

“I only found out about her whereabouts before I was exiled to Beast Island. She was behind a mask, but I could feel the disjointed fusion of dark and stolen magic radiating off her. She didn’t carry out the command or anything. She just watched me in my cell from a distance with a small girl--not much older than Glimmer at the time--holding her in a tight grip by the upper arm.”

That catches Catra’s attention. Adora . Not a hard piece to the puzzle, though now she was wracking her brain to try and remember anything of Micah from so early on.

“Did the Horde know that she was She-Ra?”

This man is full of surprises.

“No, but I think Shadow Weaver sensed something that made her want to use Adora for power.” She sees him nod thoughtfully at this. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. She just has her own energy. It’s so different next to Shadow Weaver’s and a different tune to weaker sorcerer’s magic and even runestone magic. I noticed it briefly then, and again it felt familiar on Beast Island. It didn’t dawn on me until I received more context.”

If there’s one thing Catra’s learned since being back with Adora--although she’s learned many things --it’s that Adora avoids talking about the Horde. Her past. Catra’s past. Specifically the bad parts, which in retrospect, was a lot of the Horde. “What do you mean ‘more context?’ Who told you what?”

“Being in a room with her and Shadow Weaver was all I needed. Beyond their different magic signatures, it was quite tense. She wasn’t comfortable being there.”

She looks into her relaxed palms on her legs, sighing. And I used to think that Adora enjoyed spending time with Shadow Weaver.

Sensing her unspoken regret and self-loathing, Micah moves on, “But if you’re wondering who told me about you , well it was a few sources: Bow told me you pushed him off a cliff. Your girlfriend said very little, but enough for me to understand the situation after she broke She-Ra’s sword. There was the occasional grumble from a Rebellion member, but mostly I heard about who you are from my daughter.”

He leaves out how much Shadow Weaver would bring up her extreme disdain for Catra whenever Adora was present, making sure to highlight how Catra was second on Adora’s list of failures, right after voluntarily destroying She-Ra’s sword because “she was too weak” and not because she kept the planet from annihilation. He will tell her one day, but this poor girl seems to have more than enough on her mind right now.

Catra sits, considering this information. 

Sparkles . 

Oh Sparkles.  

She allows a smile to play on her face while her mind leads to mischief. Maybe Sparkles was singing her praises today, but Catra’s now determined to turn those singing praises in screaming profanities. Just to remind Sparkles that she befriended Catra , not some soft, squishy stuffed cat to snuggle with.

She could let her girlf--

“Wait wait wait wait wait. Girlfriend? What are you insinuating?”

The mischievous twinkle that was once in Catra’s eyes transfers over to Micah’s. Sparkles is definitely his daughter.

“I’ve spent less than a day in your company and it’s fairly obvious.”

Heat rises in her face. Has it really been that obvious this whole time? But furthermore, everyone keeps saying they’re girlfriends. When did they become girlfriends? Because neither Catra nor Adora has said anything about the label until this morning, in which it was all in questions and dancing around in uncertainty.

“Do you and Adora know what that means?”

Obviously-- just like everything else at this point --Catra reads like an open book and Micah studies her, trying to piece together a better explanation. He flusters, a bit nervous about explaining the concept to the young adult sitting next to him. Awkwardly, he sighs, trying to humor both of them, “Of course the Horde never explained anything of the sort. Why would they?” 

“Y’know, you don’t have to feel obligated to explain this--I get the whole relationship concept, I can just ask the married couple about labels and when they’re used and stuff .” She leaves the last part wide open and vague. She really doesn’t need this man she just met to explain anymore than he’s already determined to explain.

Micah genuinely laughs, slightly easing her discomfort, “Kid, Netossa and Spinnerella are definitely a much better resource, but to put your mind to at least some rest, it really is no trouble to tell you about the ‘girlfriend’ label.”

She would let him calling her ‘kid’ slide. Just this once. “Okay, shoot. Enlighten me,” she smirks.

“When your relationship is more… romantic, in a sense, sometimes people use labels like boyfriend, partner, girlfriend, companion, and so on.”

This isn’t news to Catra. “Well I know that, but…” she hesitates. Her wall’s already crumbling at the foundation, but she doesn’t want to bring it down. That’d leave her open, exposed. But she also thinks that in this private moment, with this weirdly chill and endearing man-- who just happens to be the King of Bright Moon --that she might be able to trust him. She weavers back and forth between her options.

“But?” Micah coaxes her, leaving the decision up to her, but showing that he’s willing to listen without judgement.

Deep breath. Here goes nothing .

“Adora and I… we were close growing up, and even before she left me--” she slips, but doesn’t mean to, “-- the Horde , I mean--we didn’t really have a label for whatever it was? It was just… us . And after I joined Adora again, we had to adjust--we still do--but it’s us again. Friends, partners, equals--whatever you want to call it. And Shadow Weaver… well she did her best in raising us to drive us apart. All throughout our lives. Maybe that’s why we’re uncomfortable and unsure in figuring it out--we weren’t allowed to ever do so before because we never stood a chance.”

Lifting her head meekly to gauge Micah’s reaction, she’s surprised with what she’s met with--clarity and admiration. He meets her eyes and holds a steady gaze. A warm smile spreads on his lips. “Then just exist as is. If you both have that mutual understanding and feel no need to label it for others, then don’t. Use what works for you--nothing’s set in stone.”

Catra relaxes into her chair, letting her tail release its tension and brush by her legs. “It’s really that simple, huh?”

“Sure, maybe not for everyone, but do what works for you. It’s your relationship, not mine or anyone else’s to control.”

“Well, thanks,” she replies softly. 

“Can I give you a hug, kid?” Eager not to have a repeat of the last time of contact, Micah lets Catra decide. She appreciates it. She’ll let ‘kid’ slide again. 

“Sure,” she snorts, “seems like everyone wants to hug me today.”

She’s quickly wrapped in his embrace. It’s different from Sparkles’ hugs in the sense that she’s shorter than Catra while Micah towers over her, but they both hug in the same way; it’s a sturdy embrace, but delicate with care and meaning.

It’s such a small thing, but Micah giving her some clarity and validation on the matter gives her some peace of mind. 

“You’re definitely Sparkles’ dad,” she truthfully jokes.

“And you two are two sides of the same coin,” he candidly replies, patting her back.

So this is what a good parental figure is.

Adora finds herself alone, staring at the stars on the roof above her room. The meeting with the Princess Alliance took a lot out of her and she just needs a few minutes of alone time tonight to try and gather her thoughts.

Or at least make sure no one else can see her thinking.

Climbing usually doesn't give her trouble, but the wound on her side still seems to ache, sending the occasional sharp pain when she puts too much strain on it. Climbing up to the roof leaves her slightly exhausted.

So she just breathes, taking in the stars that now fill the night sky. She can read the sky like an ever-changing map. She was born under the stars in a different pocket of the universe, looking from a different perspective, but the stars still call out to her, beckoning her to understand. Some constellations spell out familiar words, ones the First Ones must’ve assigned when looking at the Etherian sky.

Maybe once summer returns to the Crimson Waste, she’ll go find Serenia and see it in real life.

Maybe Catra will come, too. And she’ll read the stars for her. And then she and her friends would go bring magic back to the universe and she could chart the stars and planets for herself. Only to be a mere observer, though. Only to step in where help is needed.

Maybe.

First she has to rebuild Etheria before shifting focus, though.

With that, she decides to head inside before the heat is zapped from her.

She struggles to stand up straight, however the pain quickly shoots through her side as she stays up for too long and collapses into a sitting position. Adora shakily gasps and grabs her side. The biting cold of the nighttime air eats away at her skin, but around the searing wound it soothes. Slowly, she leans back against the stone of the roof and catches her breath, wincing a bit when she breathes, but the cold air soothes as she gazes back up at the night sky.

As she unfolds, Adora pulls her hands away from the wound under her shirt. A small breeze rustles through, and the heat immediately leaves her hands.

They're wet. 

Looking down, she sees crimson coating the inside of one palm and lining her fingers on the other. She wipes off as much as she can, but the wetness clings, starting to turn sticky. Her eyes travel to her right side. A blotched dark stain stands out against her white shirt.

Frantically, she sits up and pulls at the bottom of the shirt, untucking it out of the way. Her hands fiddle at the hem of the shirt as she grips and rolls it up, revealing a soaked bandage. 

How is it still open?

The wound should've closed hours ago. Or at least bleed less, not more. Adora slumps back against the roof, trying to regulate her breath, hoping the cold will completely numb her.

She needs to fix this.

The note on top of the pyramid of pink, white, and gold boxes by Catra’s bed matches the ornate style of the numerous boxes--ranging from small to extremely large--littering her room. Lifting the card to read, she smirks and rolls her eyes. Bow definitely scrawled this. It’s too neat and orderly and enthusiastic for Glimmer to be the author.

Hi Catra!

You’re currently not here in your room right now, so we’re dropping this off and leaving this note.

Here’s a whole wardrobe of clothes for you based on our consultation with the tailors today! We hope that there’s enough clothes in here for you--we also made sure to get you accessories of different varieties.

Let us know if something doesn’t fit or if there are things in here not in your tastes. We tried not to interfere too much, but you weren’t giving us much to work with.

Love,

Glimmer & Bow

P.S. - Best Friends Squad fashion show? Please?

Catra doesn’t understand how her simple request for needing only ‘a week’s worth of clothes’ turned into a fuckton of clothes in boxes, but it’s Bright Moon. Why is she even surprised at this point.

Literally all she needs is new clothes. Clothes she can walk around in. Fight in. Climb in. Flexible clothes. And nothing pink or sparkly. She’s now worried that Sparkles and Captain Croptop have supplied her with things that don’t reflect her at all. She already plans on redecorating this room somewhat. At least the wall color isn’t terrible. She can work with dark blue walls accented in gold. But the bed will eat her alive and there’s just so much… stuff everywhere in the room. And that is a fact even without the plethora of boxes. 

She doesn’t really see herself spending much time here when Adora’s right next to her, and right now she really can’t with all of the boxes occupying the majority of the space. She’s too tired to go through everything in the room, but she’ll search until she can find something to change into because quite frankly, she feels gross. 

Hesitantly, she takes a claw and slices through the string tying a box closed. Opening it, she expects to be glitter-bombed given the note Bow wrote, but instead she finds a bright red fabric. At first glance, looks new, but upon closer inspection, Catra sees the faintest lines of stitching intertwined throughout the fabric.

Like fine and delicate faded scars. 

Breath slightly held, she hovers above it. Then she sees another note--not anything grand or ornate like the first one, but a scrap of paper scrawled with a quick message. Almost like a secret note passed between her and the writer.

I know she may not want to wear this right now, but I don’t think it’s something to throw away. I figured you might want to keep it.

She puts Glimmer’s note to the side and lifts the folded sturdy fabric out with care, letting it unfurl in her hands as she holds it up. 

Adora’s jacket.

Without the blonde filling its space it feels less lively, but it’s still a piece of Adora that Catra refuses to let go of. That jacket and the person who wore it for years brought safety, security, and love to her.

She hugs it close as she walks over to the empty set of drawers. Folding it up again, she sets it in her top drawer and goes back to her search for something to wear.

Although she originally loathed the idea of going through the packages, she's pleasantly surprised by what she finds and has opened about half of the boxes before finding a box full of athletic and lounge shorts of flexible and soft materials in varying shades of reds, grays, and blacks. While there are still articles of clothing she’s found that she absolutely will not wear-- most dresses, skirts, and anything ruffled, frilly, or pink--Catra finds herself putting away a large portion of things she’s received. Bow will be excited to learn that she’s keeping most of the crop tops that she received. Not so much because they’re crop tops, which was his main reasoning, but they are form-fitting and flexible. 

And because she looks good in them.

And she’s allowed to openly think that now and let Adora see.

Maybe I am going soft .

Catra giggles at the thought as she picks out a pair of maroon shorts. Holding the bundle in one arm, she runs her other hand through her hair before it migrates to her right ear. She fiddles with the two pieces of metal she voluntarily poked through it earlier.

“Catra--you’ve been in Bright Moon for less than a day are you really going to do that?” Adora scolded.

“I mean, yeah why not. Sparkles has an earring, why can’t I?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t! It just seems like super impulsive, and what if it hurts?”

“Eh nothing I haven’t experienced before,” she dismissed her with a hand flick, but let her tail move and linger on Adora’s forearm, ensuring her that she’d be alright. “And besides, I’ve always wanted a few piercings--I just never had the opportunity to get them until now.”

It was Sparkles who originally brought up the topic when trying to accessorize in a shop. She’d never take out her mother’s earring, but she’d been considering poking in a few more to add to her aesthetic--something she was never allowed to do growing up. As she explained the various spots on her ears that she wanted to pierce, Adora brought up that the piercings would be constellation-like. And Glimmer said ‘that’s why they’re called constellation piercings’ as if it was the most simple thing in the world. 

At this reaction, Adora turned to Catra to gauge whether or not Catra knew about piercings in general, in which she voiced that she had thought about getting one. 

And so Sparkles grabbed her three friends and next thing they knew, they were in a piercing studio. Not being able to do much growing up seemed to give both her and Catra even more incentive to do it at that moment.

Bow and Adora stood to the side, watching intently. Adora was tense. Bow was in awe. He called it a ‘real bonding moment’ and said that their piercings would be a marker of their friendship. Glimmer and Catra looked at each other, looked at Bow with daggers, and turned back to each other and snorted at such a notion.

Catra didn’t even flinch as the metal pushed through. A small gold hoop was then put in and clasped shut.

Adora exhaled. “At least it’s one and done.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “Well I was only going to start with one, but hell, I may as well do another since I’ve already started.”

“What?!”

Catra is not sure if she’d call today’s shopping trip and impromptu ear piercings necessarily ‘real bonding moments,’ but she finds herself more patient with Adora’s two friends… and maybe even enjoying spending time with them? They still get on her nerves, but it’s nice to know that there are others that do care about her. Bow may fawn over things that are ‘cute,’ but he also constantly checks in and makes an effort to make people comfortable and validated. Glimmer is a lot of glitter, but even more so grit. She’s always been a pain in the ass, but so has Catra, and it turns out that when they both share the same sentiments and mischief, they can have a lot of fun terrorizing others. They both got piercings not only because they wanted to, but mostly out of spite. Unfortunately Micah’s right. Two sides of the exact same coin.

Micah .

Micah’s the second person Catra’s met that just accepted her for her--the first being Adora, of course. But even after everything she has done, he’s held no judgement. And Catra thinks he should. 

Sighing, she shakes herself out of the thought before it spirals into something that will ruin her night. 

So she considers going back to the clothes, but the more she stands there, the more she realizes how strong the perfumed scent of the clothes and boxes are. It may be a product of its environment, but it’s one that overwhelms everything else. She decides to let her shirts air out overnight. 

The brush off the roof and the quiet patter of feet landing onto stone catches her ear. Listening more closely, she hears the shower turn on.

Maybe Adora will let her steal a shirt.

Adora finds herself staring into the mirror at a shivering wet body for the second time today. Small scars lay scattered throughout her body, but she takes notice again of the scar developing in the middle of her chest. One arm holds onto her while the other hovers over the etched skin. The lines have darkened since this morning. Slight heat radiating. Angry and deep pink. And so rigid and clear.

Almost like it’s branded onto her skin.

Well, it burned onto my soul, so why not leave a physical reminder of the pain by burning into me?

The more serious marking reminds her the intensity of the wound and how bad it is when she slightly twists her torso and ends up iron-gripping her upper arm while staring down at the open and now bruising gash on her right. 

Where are you when I need you?

It seems that She-Ra shows up more consistently now, but Adora’s realizing quickly that She-Ra only shows up for her friends. When they need her. 

But not for Adora.

She feels more at peace with the magic inside her than she ever has. Just not for things for herself. Usually She-Ra heals, but for some reason she’s left more artifacts behind on Adora. This time she barely even healed the cut and Adora hasn’t been able to align with her to fix it.

And to her, it makes sense. Using She-Ra to just heal her wounds isn’t the same as using She-Ra to heal and help others. Adora needs to help. And She-Ra can.

So she’ll wrap a new bandage when it bleeds and keep the cut clean. Throw on things to cover the failsafe and the gash.She’ll be fine.

“Adora I’m taking a shirt!” Catra yells, pushing a door open to the girl’s space. She won’t miss one of her compression tops. Adora may even miss it less when she finds out that the turtleneck will become a cropped tank with a few more tears here and there. 

She tiptoes in, even though Adora knows she’s there, even in the bathroom.

Metallic .

Earthy.

Raw .

Flooding into her senses as she steps into the room. Adora, what have you done?

Catra progresses into the room focused and alert, letting her sense of smell read the room as she takes a shirt from the closet and cuts it with her claws.  She scans, not looking for something out, but places where things can hide. 

That’s where she finds the soiled bandage under papers in a waste basket..

“Adora?” she calls, nervous and concerned.

No answer.

“Adora?!” Now she’s really yelling and could care less. 

The blonde frantically swings open both doors to her bathroom. Panic fills the girl’s eyes as she scans her room for her distressed cat. Catra catches the sharp breath and wince from her after yanking open the door.

“Catra?! Are you alright?”

“Tch, I could ask you the same thing,” her tongue clicks. 

“Well, I just took another shower and have on clothes to go to bed, and I was doing fine until you called and--”

“Then lift your shirt,” she says in dead seriousness.

A slight recognition flows through Adora’s thoughts, but so does deflection. She can handle this. She grimly laughs, “Why would you need me to do that?”

“You said you were fine. Roll up the bottom of your shirt.”

Adora’s eyes guiltily flick over to a crevice behind her bed near a table. Catra bounds over. “Catra wait I--”

Out she pulls a shirt. The uniform in a matching set. Like the one covering the whole of Adora’s upper half and torso. Like the one Catra snatched and customized to make her own shirt. But this one she finds is stained.

With fresh blood.

Catra gathers herself, inhaling. She’s only showing her worry through biting anger and needs to dial it down. She needs to know what is going on--confirm what she fears is true.

“Adora, for the last time, roll up the bottom of the fucking shirt. Now.”

Chapter Text

It was determined fairly quickly that Adora shouldn't step foot in the Fright Zone during the restoration movement given that she'd be captured or killed on sight. Perfuma, Glimmer, and Bow may have tried to argue that She-Ra saved the whole planet and by extension the universe, but Catra so kindly pointed out how little that meant to the Horde, especially since many of them never even knew what had really happened in the past few months. Scorpia also chimed in that chipped or not, the last order the Horde--and the rest of Etheria-- received was a bounty specifically on Adora, and some would definitely still deliver on that order, even with Prime gone and Hordak out of power.

So Catra and Scorpia have been in the Fright Zone for the past two weeks doing damage control. 

And it actually has not been going terrible. 

While Glimmer was mostly confident in her choice of having Catra--of all people--to be her Chief Advisor, and probably the only Advisor I’ll listen to , she had a few reservations about not only how Catra would take her role, but how others would react to that announcement considering how well pardoning her went.

But much like Adora, if Catra is given a job, she’s executing it with laser focus. She’s brilliant as an adviser, and even more so as a tactician. Almost scarily so.

No wonder the Horde was beating us.  

The princesses didn’t want to enter the Fright Zone and Catra didn’t want them to, as it would be more like they were invading or conquering. Of course they took offence to that, but Catra was right. Would the Alliance’s version of ‘spreading peace’ and ‘rebuilding’ be making members of the Horde comply or face punishment? Glimmer didn’t know. And she didn’t want to find out. As much as the group preached about being the good guys, in which compared to the ideologies of the Horde and Prime they were, the Queen realized in retrospect that while their goals might’ve been morally good, there were still things many did individually and as a group that weren’t. And people on the receiving end of those actions, those affected, definitely would remember. Even within the Alliance, the past year has revealed cracks and blemishes in their ‘good’ foundation. 

Maybe Catra almost ended the world by betraying Entrapta and opening the Portal.

But Glimmer almost ended the world by betraying her friends. She chose the weapon over them, over saving Entrapta, and used Scorpia to set off the Heart.

How could she sit there with no consequences just for being on one side and not the other?

So, as bad as the Horde was, Glimmer would not try to force an ideology onto them or consequences for a war that they were absorbed into. There was a time where she believed that everyone in the Horde was evil. She still believed it even after finding Adora, who was raised as a child soldier and manipulated into that thought. Even after Scorpia, the least evil a person could be after Bow, abandoned the Horde to save Entrapta. It wasn’t until she was up on that spaceship as clones piled on top of a small catgirl, that she was about to be transported back into the arms of her friends, delivered from the enemy, that Glimmer came to a realization:

The Etherian Horde may have been doing bad things, but most of the people in it weren’t evil themselves.

People like Adora, like Catra and Scorpia--they didn’t have a choice. The Horde was all they knew. People seemed more loyal to each other than to the cause. Maybe that’s why Catra was so hurt when Adora joined the Rebellion. Why Scorpia stayed with Catra for so long. And then left and came to save Entrapta.

Maybe not all of the other princesses would understand, but Glimmer does now. Catra’s right beyond her facade of nonchalance. It might’ve seemed dismissive when she said “you guys would make everything even worse in the Fright Zone,” two weeks ago, but there was a lot more to that statement.

And as ruthless as she was in the end, Catra was their leader in the Fright Zone--even more so than Hordak in a sense. She understands it more than probably anyone else in the Alliance, even more than Adora or Scorpia, because she had it hard there and knew it for what it was: a toxic, hostile environment. And sure, Adora and Scorpia know that now, but they didn’t while there. Catra did. There was no moment of disillusionment for her because she damn well knew her whole life what the Horde really was.

So Glimmer had no reservations in letting Catra and Scorpia handle the Fright Zone. They could rework and restructure things, and if Scorpia wanted to, she could reclaim the territory that was rightfully her people’s in the first place. The kingdom that Hordak landed in. The one, as she learned from her dad, that no one ever helped when the Horde conquered and took over.

Unfortunately, it was harder to decide what to do with Hordak than it was with Catra. 

And while Glimmer asked for input from the Union, she made the decision herself, because again, she in no way could compare Hordak to Horde Prime, but he wasn’t the same case as Catra or any other member of the Horde, nor was he like the rest of the clones detached from the hivemind-- which is another issue I have to figure out. But again, she would’ve been harsher if she hadn’t been on Prime’s ship and saw what she saw. So when she decided on exile in Dryl (at Entrapta’s request) and community service to the Alliance, most grumbled but were too busy to react strongly. That and the decision seemed to keep him out of the way and out of power and mainly that was all most seemed to care about. 

Crisis mostly averted.

Glimmer sits in the war room. 

I guess I can rename this room now, too. Maybe the command center? Meeting room? I’ll sleep on it.

She stares at the graphic map illuminating the large table, noting the small blue dots in clusters, scattered across Etheria. So far most things have been running smoothly. Four dots in Salineas, two in the Fright Zone, five scattered throughout the Whispering Woods, and four in the Crimson Waste. All of her people accounted for and no red blinking dots or people falling off grid. Good. 

Putting her status to dormant, she stretches and pops over to the Grounds. In the warm light emitted from the moons, she falls back and spreads out in the grass. She hasn’t needed to recharge since the Moonstone became fully hers, but even so, she feels more energized when she’s outside soaking in the light or near the runestone itself. Being out here doesn’t feel like the escape it was months and months ago. She’s not staying behind because she feels obligated to or because people are telling her to. There’s always someone at Bright Moon to touch base with between her, Bow, and her dad, and she’s happy to help wherever she’s needed. This is the most at ease she’s been since… she’s not sure. But even with so much to do, Glimmer feels like she can just breathe. 

For the most part.

The nagging concern at the back of her mind about Adora in the first week became a constant throbbing worry a few days ago when she came in one night asking about healing potions and charms. 

Adora has always been very stubborn about injuries and things of the sort, so Glimmer immediately knew that whatever was going on was very much out of Adora’s rigid control.

That’s how Glimmer found out about the large gash on her side. 

And furthermore how She-Ra wasn’t able to heal it.

“Adora, this is bad.” 

“I know, Glimmer, that’s why I need to fix it!”

“Have you been to see a healer?”

“You know how I feel about seeing them.”

Even in this serious moment, Glimmer could not help but raise an eyebrow, showing her disapproval.

“Glimmer, if I go see a healer, then they know that I’m having trouble transforming still and She-Ra can’t heal right now, and I don’t need people to panic over that. Even with Prime defeated, there’s still a lot of unrest and things to fix.”

Unfortunately, she made a good point. Sighing, Glimmer came and took Adora’s hands. “Who else knows?”

“Um, just Catra,” her face fell. Adora’s been hiding this. That explains Catra’s growing stress.

The Queen teleported the two into the greenhouse and she began to pick out plants and other ingredients. She’d only made and cast the spell twice, so she’d need help from her dad. Would Adora be okay with that? Hopefully. Adora followed in tow as she collected more things. Luckily, all of her substituents were here thanks to Perfuma and Micah’s help in rebuilding the gardens and greenhouse. That and the spell didn’t call for any lunar lenses, just precise focus. That’d be a trip to Mystacor, and although she knew Adora wouldn’t agree to it right now, the Best Friends Squad could use a trip there soon.

They continued to walk in the quiet dark. The main source of light came from the soft, pulsing orb in one of Glimmer’s hands and the growing collection of levitating objects that she controls in the other. 

“Adora?”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I tell Bow and my dad?”

She could sense the hesitation in her friend’s words, even if they were affirmative. “Sure.”

Glimmer stopped and turned to face her. She didn’t want to pressure the blonde or ever breach her trust again. “Only if you are okay with it, Adora. Seriously, if you’re not, then I won’t.”

Adora thought on this, and knowing her, thought through every scenario she could think of with her options. She nodded, “You can tell them. But can we please not let it get out to others? I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

Hopefully Adora will be fine. She comes in every night for healing and the gash hasn’t been getting worse. 

But it also hasn’t been getting better. At least it seems that way. 

The deep wound will scab over and shrink. The heat and tenderness leaves. And Adora says the pain goes away. But come the next day, it’s back to the state it was in the previous night.

Mostly her dad’s been healing as she takes notes, but she’s been helping more recently. It’s a weird, sometimes draining feeling, putting her energy into another’s. Feeling the interaction and mix happen in her aura. And more often than not, Adora’s tired before and exhausted after. As much as she smiles and thanks them and walks out with pep in her step. Glimmer can just feel it before withdrawing her connection. But what does it mean? Is that how Adora feels after healing someone or herself? That would explain why she was more tired or would fall out of transformation after healing. But even then, this exhaustion just looks and feels different. It almost hungrily eats at her instead of just settling into her bones. And if Glimmer can feel that, her dad definitely can, too. She-Ra’s magic is there, reaching out and wanting to infuse with Glimmer and Micah’s, to replenish and revive, but it can’t seem to grasp onto anything or reach far enough.

“Hey Baby Girl.” Her dad stands above her, blocking light.

She opens one eye and closes it again. “Hi Dad.”

He moves to sit on the grass next to her, legs crossing by the sound of the rustling. She knows he’s nervously studying her, not sure what to do, and she doesn’t blame him. It’s been way over a decade since they last saw each other, and as much as she enjoys soaking in the rays of the moons, she would rather spend time with her dad. 

Taking in a final deep breath of relaxing fresh air, Glimmer blinks her eyes open and sits up to face her dad. “What’s up?” she smiles.

Micah relaxes at seeing his daughter’s ease and open nature. “I just wanted to see how you were holding up,” he kindly reciprocates the smile.

“What? Do you miss being King already?” she snorts.

“Nah, retirement’s kind of nice. And I hear my replacement hasn’t blown anything up today, so I suppose she’s not terrible at her job,” he kids.

The two chuckle before Glimmer becomes more earnest.

“I think I’m actually doing pretty okay. It was a bit hard to fill you and Mom’s shoes at first, but I feel a lot more comfortable in the position than I was before. And rebuilding’s going great. Catra’s been doing a great job coordinating and planning tasks and apparently the Fright Zone relief is going well.” 

“That’s great! Leave it to my daughter and her sidekick to take care of business.”

Glimmer laughs at the notion of Catra ever being her sidekick. “Careful, Dad, if you call her that when she’s in earshot, you might get pounced on.”

“You’re right! She’s definitely the boss and you’re the sidekick,” he chuckles.

“Dad!” Glimmer playfully flicks some sparkles towards his face. He ruffles her hair in retaliation and they break out into a fit of laughter on the grass. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He reaches in and pecks her head, “Love you even more, Moonbeam.” He pulls back and playfully asks, “What would you do if I wasn’t so lucky?”

“Who knows? But right now I don’t have Adora and Bow to hold me back from doing something stupid, though,” she giggles.

Her dad softly laughs and then quiets a bit. “How’s she doing?”

So much understanding hides in the short question.

“She’s tough, Dad. I’m sure you already know that,” Micah nods. “But she feels really tired, Dad. I feel it. I know you feel it. I’m not sure how much the healing helps actually heal as it just temporarily keeps the issue at bay. Even so, Adora’s still up every morning and ready to conquer the day. Today she’s started in the Crimson Waste.” 

While relief is still needed in the Whispering Woods, She-Ra healing the planet helped the woods grow and replenish the towns and villages more than the Alliance thought it would, so more aid was put into the Fright Zone. But even so, some villages were either completely destroyed or left devastated by Prime, and when a team would come across one, Glimmer could see how much it hurt her. Adora felt responsible. And she really shouldn’t have. So, when reports from her sources in the Crimson Waste spoke of an increase in discord and unrest, Glimmer knew that Adora would be better in that environment, which never has been peaceful ever. Adora will have a harder time blaming herself-- not that she should be in the first place . 

That and Glimmer knows she enjoys hanging out with Huntara.

Micah sits, considering what his daughter has told him. Glimmer loves how thoughtful her dad is when it comes to issues and topics that need it. Oddly enough, his face turns into one of surprise and question.

“Wait, the Crimson Waste? I thought it was uninhabited.”

Glimmer can’t help but laugh, “We went on a field trip there and found out it was quite… habited . It’s pretty crazy out there, but nothing she can’t handle. But I’ve got two scouts, two pairs of eyes on her out there, too, and Catra made her take Melog.”

“Good, good. She tends to throw herself into a lot of situations.”

“Yep,” she pops the ‘p’. “That’s Adora in a nutshell.”

Micah smiles, thinking about her friends, “She’s a good kid. Her, Catra, Bow--you have good friends.”

“Thanks, Dad. I don't know what I’d do without them.” The sentiment is good and light, but a little current worry and past regret sinks in. She doesn’t know what emotions her Dad sees in her energy.

Putting a hand on her shoulder, he offers a small embrace. “Hold them close. Take care of each other,” he smiles gently.

Getting up, he offers a hand to his daughter and pulls her up and they begin walking into the castle. “I can look into other types of spells to cast and see what I can do to combine and alter some therapies. I’m not sure what literature I can find on She-Ra’s healing--if there is any at all--but it’s worth a shot.”

Glimmer thinks on both points, mainly the second. She’s not sure where to find any literature on She-Ra.

Until she does.

“Bow’s dads! They have a massive collection of various ancient texts! Bow and I are going over to their library next week to help them clean and reorganize. You should come!”

“Wow, having the parents meet each other already? You kids move fast.”

Glimmer swats his arm and they’re both laughing again, walking aimlessly down a hall.

“But I would love to. Some texts and spells might be more useful now that we have stars again in the sky. You have a good head on your shoulders. I’m proud of you,” he pulls her into a hug.

Glimmer squeezes, clinging on and wanting to make up for so much lost time. Micah holds tight, sending a series of pecks to the top of his daughter’s head. Carding his fingers through her hair, he rests head on top of hers and peers into a doorway nearby.

The doorway for the kitchen.

“Hey, do you want to have a snack with your old man?”

Glimmer pulls back a bit, looking into her dad’s big, glossy welled-up eyes. Hers certainly match his at the moment. “Sure, Dad. Want to go steal some cake from the platter?”

“See?! Kids do like cake!” he cheers, yelling out in the empty hall and the universe.

Glimmer’s not sure to whom he needed to prove that point, but she’s sure that’s a story she’ll hear soon. 

Adora likes having free reign to punch people when it’s deserved. It’s deserved all the time almost in the Crimson Waste. 

Bar fighting. 

Brawling.

The constant contest of who is stronger and tougher than who. 

This place usually inflates and deflates her ego by feeding into her competitive nature and completely destroying it again. The Waste constantly challenges her. Revs her engines. Stars, she missed this place. 

At least how it was before Prime sent out a bounty for her head.

Now it feels like all eyes are on her--and she hasn’t even needed to transform into She-Ra yet. 

Which of course, I can do at a moment’s notice out here when I need to knock some heads or help someone out .

She-Ra might have more strength and intimidation factor--though Adora believes that she’s intimidating even without She-Ra--but she helps people. But Adora can punch and fight just fine. Even more fine than most of the goons out here. As terrible as the Horde was, their training was no joke, and even with Adora not at one hundred percent, she still can kick most people’s asses out here just with herself and a staff.

People are more shady than usual, though. And while Adora doesn’t want to disturb the disorderly balance that makes up the Crimson Waste, after receiving a notification from Glimmer about the unrest and residual Horde activity, Adora knew that she should check it out.

Catra, being uncomfortable with the notion, made her bring Melog.

At least by not wearing her red jacket anymore she’s not a total dead giveaway.

Still, Huntara told her to keep her guard up.

After all, you can’t trust anyone in the Crimson Waste .

She and Huntara spent most of the day taking down Horde paraphernalia and bounty posters and scouting places that Huntara noticed activity in along with some other places Glimmer said to check out. Then they’d plan their next move based on their findings.

And Adora found that unrest is not exactly the word that covers what is going on. If anything, the waste was too quiet. Too secretive. Various gangs and groups forming and making unsteady alliances. Nothing wild at all. Not like the other times she’s come by. And she can’t tell which people are grouping for protection and which ones are grouping to plan her capture.

Adora doesn’t like it.

Huntara really doesn’t like it.

Not that Huntara would admit that to her, but Adora can tell. 

At least she’s grown on her. That makes her happy.

The two walk toward the Valley of the Lost. Since Huntara returned to the Waste, she quickly regained control over the Valley . It was more-or-less safe now. At least by Crimson Waste standards.

“So Blondie, word in the Waste is that you and your ex figured your shit out.”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah! You know, feisty Kit.”

Adora snorts, “Oh I can’t wait for you to use that nickname around her.”

“Yeah? And what’s she gonna do? Scratch me?”

“I don’t know, Huntara, she did manage to take over the Crimson Waste in like less than a day last time.”

Huntara growls at the comment, but returns to her prodding as they walk toward their base to meet back with Melog--who has been doing their own snooping--and call for Glimmer to teleport the two back to Bright Moon. 

“So, what’s the deal with you two idiots?”

“Well, we had time in space to talk things out and she’s helped us on numerous occasions, so we’re on good terms.”

“Seriously?” Huntara turns and stops and Adora walks right into her, letting out a grunt as she bounces right off of the larger woman.

“What? We’re good now!” Adora grips at her side, and stands back up, catching her breath.

“Uh huh. And now you’re just two gal pals who will frolic into the horizon together?” she smirks.

Adora flusters, “Well, I--I don’t think Catra’s one to frolic , but--”

Huntara’s brash laugh fills the open air, catching and sinking into red sand dunes. Roughly slapping a hand on Adora’s shoulder, she starts walking again. “I’m just messin’ with ya, kid.” But turning more serious, she says, “But I want to meet this girl that’s caught your eye. Make sure she’ll take care of you. And if she does anything to hurt you, she’ll have to answer to me. Got it?”

Adora’s smile grows again. “Yes ma’am!” she salutes.

They continue, entering the city and making their way to the checkpoint.

Catra would like it here under regular circumstances. 

Catra got banished here you idiot. 

But she and Scorpia did manage to take complete control of the waste in less than a day.

But of course I had to say something about Shadow Weaver. 

I should’ve known by then. 

I did. 

And I still had to bring her up.

I’m such an idiot. 

Catra would’ve thrived here if I hadn’t been in her way. 

At least we have each other now.

“Hey Adora.”

She hears purrs behind her. Turning, Adora sees Catra, tail flicking, mischievously grinning.

“Catra? What are you--”

“How’s your side?” she purrs, moving closer. 

Adora feels Huntara turn around and stand at her side. Catra blinks horizontally and her eyes come back slitted and both a yellow-green.

Adora draws her staff, ready to attack if need be. She really doesn’t want to. It’s been a long day and she’s tired. Huntara looks between her and her supposed partner and also grabs her weapon.

“Blondie, what happened to ‘oh Kit and I are on good terms,’ huh? Are you both seriously already having trouble in paradise?”

“We are on good terms. But they’re not Catra,” Adora spits through gritted teeth.

The image of Catra distorts and is replaced with a tall, slender figure, still nonchalant and at complete ease.

“Relax, honey, I’m not here to wreak havoc on the Rebellion. Don’t be so dramatic.”

Huntara immediately relaxes and crosses her arms, looking a bit annoyed. “What do you want, DT?”

“Oh Huntara, I’m only here to send my love and congrats to her and her kitten on finally figuring out their baggage,” they clasp their hands together, but then drop them and take on a more bored tone, “also I have new intel for our darling Queen about Horde activities.”

Adora stands, still ready with her staff, taking in this whole interaction. “I’m sorry--you two know each other?”

“Blondie, it’s the Crimson Waste. I make it my business to know who’s in it. And this chameleon has been a pain in my ass for years,” Huntara states.

“Okay, and what about you?” Adora closes her staff and a sharp pain runs through her side. She gasps and moves to sit on a crate, eyes still trained on the mercenary. “Why would you be giving intel to the Queen?”

“Oh right! You and her boyfriend flitted off the Beast Island when all this happened. Well, honey, I turned on my little cash kitten when your devious sparkly friend offered me a little more money to cause a mess in the Horde while she turned on her super weapon. You saw how that went. Of course, I had no idea that you broke your sword until a little Scorpion told me, but looks like you got your She-Ra back…” they look her up and down, and their stare burns a hole into her side, “Mostly. Anyways, I suppose I’m still working with the Etherian Union now since it pays well and I can provide my espionage and performance services to people who actually care.” They flick their hair, surely for dramatic emphasis, but it works. 

Why does it work so well? She knows it’s to distract her. Stay on track, Adora . She wants to ask so badly how they could possibly know about her current small weakness, but turning to Huntara, she knows that the woman doesn’t know. And no one else needs to know.

Double Trouble approaches her, more quietly and crouches next to her box. “You know, from one master of the craft to another, you may be a terrible actress, but you’re a pro at pushing down your thoughts and reactions and wearing a mask for others,” they say lowly.

“How did you--”

They silence her with their hand. “It’s called talent and skill, honey. I thoroughly pick people apart and use it to my advantage. I will say though, it took me until now to see this side of you. Maybe because of the physical weakness? Regardless. It makes you far more interesting than what I had you pegged to be. Brava… and be careful,” their voice goes even lower and loses its conniving, thespian tone. “You don’t know who out there is still willing to follow Prime’s will, even without the chip. It’s more than just factions in the Waste. If you don’t fix your… current setback, more will eventually find out. Watch your back, hun.”

Adora blinks and they’re gone.

Chapter Text

Catra’s feelings will never change about teleporting. It may be the most effective method of quick transportation, but it leaves her dry heaving every single time. Teleporting is necessary. That doesn’t mean it’s enjoyable. But all things said and considered, she is currently thankful for it. The Fright Zone is much too far a walk or even a skiff ride from Bright Moon, and Catra can’t say that she’s comfortable setting up camp in the Whispering Woods or even walking through much of it. It’s big and she doesn’t want to get lost. She’s also not sure if she’s on any better terms with the Woods yet. It’s weird and messes with her head, and no matter how much ‘good’ magic she’s seen, she still has her reservations and has a hard time trusting unfamiliar forms.

Even familiar forms put her on edge, having been on the receiving end of many, like Glimmer’s, and Scorpia’s, and the other princess’, and She-Ra’s. And she’s wary of She-Ra’s magic for more than the harm it has done to her in the past; she doesn’t know what to make of the relationship of Adora and She-Ra. If she’s supposed to be pure, good, Etherian magic, then why isn’t she good to Adora? What can’t She-Ra help Adora connect? And why, fucking why , won’t she heal Adora? Catra had no problem hurting She-Ra after finding out that Adora remained unscathed all those years ago--she could finally take out her anger on the being that took Adora away from her. She could make Adora hurt, but it’d never permanently scar. That’s what she believed even if she had feared that it wasn’t totally true, that there were limits to how much damage could be done, or that She-Ra and Adora were separate enough, two separate bodies that existed back and forth, that injuries Adora sustained couldn’t be healed by She-Ra and She-Ra only healed those that she herself sustained. So Catra never went as far as physically hurting Adora.

Until she did.

Because she had no choice.

No control. No matter how much she fought for it. And felt every moment of it.

And She-Ra healed Catra--brought her back--and Adora. Mostly healed them both. Their bones mended back together. Lodging her arm back into place. Piecing together Adora’s shattered legs. Refilling Catra’s lungs with air. Mending broken skin on Adora’s leg almost seamlessly.

But the skin on her back, a place that Catra had torn and shredded and clawed through She-Ra several times, took its time and scarred on Adora. Leaving a visible artifact of their fight on her, and a late, overdue warning to Catra. She-Ra may be there, intertwined, but not always and only so much. And in the case of the wounds from the Heart, apparently not much at all. 

At least not for Adora.

Sure, Adora’s not poisoned .  

But why? Why isn’t She-Ra healing this? Why let the failsafe scar? Why won’t Adora’s wound close after two fucking weeks?! It’s not fair --Catra came out physically unscathed, so why not Adora? Is it because she doesn’t have the other sword? She’s more powerful now without it, but does it have tradeoffs? Does it have to do with the virus or the failsafe? Setting free Etheria’s magic? Catra doesn’t know enough about this stuff to know, but there’s too many variables for her, too many unknowns and things to go wrong. And everything has tradeoffs, no matter what type of power it is. She doesn’t trust the magic. Not enough. Maybe she never fully will. But she needs to keep Adora safe. 

Especially since she’s decided to start missions in the Crimson Waste a few days ago.

“I heard Adora brought back some new weapons,” Scorpia remarks.

Catra tunes back into her surroundings as she leaves the Fright Zone territory and enters the Woods with Scorpia. They’re walking to the meeting spot where Glimmer will teleport them back. Unfortunately that leads her walking back to the location of the former outpost in the Woods that she and Sparkles have grown to know too well. Oh well. As long as it gets her back, she deals with it.

“And you got a cool new whip!”

Catra acknowledges this with a hum and a nod. She hates giving Scorpia the cold shoulder, especially now because Scorpia’s done nothing wrong, but Catra really just wants to stay on task and get to the damn meeting spot.

“Reminds me of the fun we had taking over the Crimson Waste! Ah, memories… But if I’m being honest, I am having a lot more fun rebuilding the Fright Zone with you now than the Waste, as brief as that happiness and fun was.”

This hits a chord. She remembers that happiness. And she also remembers what ended it. And the spiral downward from it. Her tail anxiously lashes as her eyes snap away from her friend to the ground. She feels the involuntary pricking at the insides of her palms and she tries to focus on sheathing away her claws and feelings. Silencing herself and her emotions, Catra’s pace increases.

“Wildcat, are you okay?”

Catra forgets how much more perceptive Scorpia is than she seems. “Yeah, I just want to get back.”

“Bad day in the Fright Zone?”

“No.” 

And she’s not lying. Today was actually pretty okay. She had been working with former Force Captains in organizing rations, supplies, and shelter for their squadron units and others while accounting for people, cleaning up and figuring out what to do in the wake of the war’s end. It has been hard to account for people and even harder to count casualties because more and more soldiers appear every day as word goes around that Horde Prime is no more and it’s safe to come out of hiding, so many are returning to the only place they know as some sort of home. Catra still hasn’t found the three people she wants to see safe most, but she’s still holding out hope that they will return to the Fright Zone, even if Scorpia has said several times that they left before Prime arrived.

Scorpia still presses, “Then what’s wrong? You’ve been like this more recently… just really on edge.”

Catra growls, but takes a breath. Scorpia’s only concerned and trying to see how to help. And honestly, it might help to talk, as much as she doesn’t want to. Only a little. “I just need to get back to Adora,” she vaguely says. She doesn’t say anymore, though, and trudges forward.

Scorpia picks up on this, holding back her further questions and instead speeds up and changes the topic. “Well, Super Pal Duo’s on an adventure back to Bright Moon! We’ll be there, soon enough,” she reassures.

Catra’s honestly not sure how much Scorpia’s forgiven her. In her opinion she shouldn’t even be forgiven. She knows that part of her talking about the ‘Super Pal Duo’ is to reassure and comfort her. But then why is she so excited and happy about it? Scorpia’s never been one to lie unless needed. Noticing what Scorpia’s doing, Catra softly smiles, nodding a ‘thanks’ to her counterpart before going back to watching her feet walk on the ground. Scorpia smiles back.

“And hopefully once things are more stable and cozy, the Super Pal Trio can hang out more. And we can go places and stuff! Maybe hang out with--what does Bow call it?--Oh! The Best Friends Squad! Yeah! Although, you’re apparently a part of both groups, but even so, you were a part of the Super Pal Trio first!”

Listening on to Scorpia’s rambling, Catra tries to giggle. She’s missed hearing this. And she’s happy to have a better dynamic with her friend. Hell, the fact that she outwardly thinks that Scorpia’s her friend is shocking enough. Her old self would never have admitted to that. And she hates that. She lets her continue, chiming in with the appropriate reactions to remain engaged while also letting herself remain focused. As they walk, something glints from the grass and catches Catra’s eye.

“Oh, goodness, now that I’m really thinking about it, we’re not a part of the Horde anymore, so we can actually have a real picnic where the food isn’t all ration bars, and we can do game nights and host parties, and--Catra?”

Scorpia looks down and notices Catra no longer there, but instead a distance away, frozen crouching and locked staring at a spot on the ground, tail wrapped near her lower legs.

As Scorpia approaches cautiously, she calls to Catra, but receives no response. 

Only then does she notice a hand scratching at the back of her neck, claws fully unsheathed.

She picks up her pace. Even closer, the glint of some metallic object in the grass shines and meets her eyes. Closer yet, Catra is trembling. No acknowledgement, not even a twitch of the ear as Scorpia desperately calls out her name.

The distance gap closes further. And she sees it. A deactivated chip lying useless in the grass. Catra’s fixed on it.

Scorpia takes it and throws it into some bushes, out of Catra’s sight and looks at her. At the back of her neck, Catra continues clawing, deepening the openings and staining her fingers. Scorpia tries to reach out, to get her to stop, to try and ease Catra.

But Catra screams and swipes against the pincer. Scrambling back, she curls into a protective ball, crying as she tries to shield her body. She holds onto the back of her head and neck, gripping onto her short hair, trying to cover as much of it as possible.

All Scorpia feels like she can do is just sit with her. She’s seen Catra in bad moments, even in ones of panic and distress, but never like this. In torment. Having something so painful afflict her, surface in her mind, that all she can do is huddle into herself and try to hide from it. Scorpia only knows that this probably has happened before, probably somewhere Catra could hide it, or maybe with Adora. Just not with her. And she doesn’t know what to do.

What would Perfuma do? Meditate? Offer non-invasive support? Find some way to ground? Scorpia’s not sure, but she knows that she’s sure as heck not going to leave. Catra has the tracker pad and Scorpia doesn’t want to risk her or Catra’s safety by trying to get it from her. She can buff out the deep scratches on her pincer later, but she can’t do that to anything but exoskeleton if she gets clawed again. And the only option that she really knows is just to sit and talk to her friend. Give her the love and empathy she needs and deserves.

“Hey, Wildcat, I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. What do you need?”

Shallow breaths continue to escape from the cat. Claws still tearing at a chip long removed. No part of her body registers with the words. Scorpia’s not sure how to get through… if she can at all. She needs to make sure Catra gets help, but she doesn’t want to overwhelm her more. Adora would probably know what to do.

Adora .

Adora!

“We’ll be home soon, Catra. Okay? And when you get back, you’ll get back to Adora.” 

At the sound of the name, Scorpia sees it. Small and unnoticeable to those who don’t know Catra well enough, but important in this very moment. Her ear flicks toward Scorpia. It waits, reaching, yearning to listen more. Encouraging her to remind Catra of her surroundings and the promise of finding her other half again at the end of the day. Scorpia can do this.

“You’ll see her and you can tell her all about the progress we made in the Fright Zone, how much good we’re doing. And you’ll be able to hear about her day in the Crimson Waste and listen to her complain about her wanted posters, and eat dinner together, and tell each other how much you missed the other, and hug and hold tight because you two are just that intertwined and just love each other that much,” she gently reassures.

The rustling in the bushes diverts Scorpia’s attention away from her friend. After all, they are vulnerable in their current position. Scooting closer to Catra, Scorpia gets into a low defensive position, ready to protect her from the unknown threat. 

A bushy, old woman bumbles through the foliage, waving to the pair with her broom as small butterflies flit around her.

“Ahh Adora’s friends! Good to see you!”

“Who are you?” How do you know us? Scorpia remains in place, tense and shielding Catra.

The lady stares inquisitively, trying to catch up and slow down to their time. Then something seems to click as her face lights up with elation. “Oh you haven’t met old Razz yet? Must be your first time again,” she muses.  

Razz? The name pulls at Scorpia, but she can’t place where it sits in her memory.

Hushed whimpers from behind brings Scorpia back into the current situation. She turns to her friend, leaning forward to read where she is. Catra’s sobs have calmed some and her ear’s still pointed toward the conversation, but she’s still not fully there. Her claws are still digging into the back of her neck, but they aren’t scratching as much now.

Razz’s attention has also been caught, and concerned recognition flashes on her face. “Yes, this is your first time again,” she murmurs, approaching the pair.

Before Scorpia is able to say anything or block her from coming closer, Razz shuffles forward and puts her hand on Catra’s forehead. Closing her eyes, she inhales and exhales. The energy from the Woods passively exchanges from the wildness of the Whispering Woods and into Razz, flowing through and out, forming an aura that channels and diffuses into the environment. A calm hum fills Scorpia’s bones as a breeze swirls the raw magical energy around her. She sees Catra’s body visibly relax. 

“Rest now, little kit,” Razz exhales as she draws her hand away. 

Uncurling her tension, Catra eases into sleep.

“Woah what did you do?” Scorpia’s both filled with curiosity and wonder but also slight terror at this Razz person. She doesn’t seem like a threat, but for all Scorpia knows, she could’ve just cursed Catra. And I just let it happen! What have I done?!  

Razz’s toothy grin grows on her face as she picks up her broom and clambers to her feet. “Calm down, Scorpia dear, Madame Razz only put poor Elizabeth’s mind at ease.”

“Elizabeth? No, that’s Catra.”

“Elizabeth, Catra, same name!” She waves her broom around and starts charging into a more dense part of the forest. “Come with me! Bring kit. Must patch her up. Adora will be glad knowing her other half is safe.” 

Specs of energy swirl around. 

And then the Woods move for her, opening up a pocket in the dense thicket of trees and brush as she surges forward, agilely hopping through.

The only other time Scorpia’s seen this happen was when--

Adora. 

Oh.

Oh! This is the Madame Razz that must’ve showed her the deepest part of the Whispering Woods!  

Not much makes enough sense to Scorpia right now, but she knows that she can trust Razz to help them. Taking Catra’s tracker pad, she decides she’ll call Bright Moon once Razz and her stop--wherever they’re going. It’s good that their tracker pads all have position-tracking in them. Gently, she scoops up Catra. She doesn’t stir. Exposing Catra’s neck, Scorpia sees shallow and deep claw marks. Her short fur is stained and the chip scar’s been sliced open. Tufts of her cropped mane are matted with blood, dirt, and grass. She knows the gesture won’t register with Catra, but Scorpia pats her head, smoothing out her hair some, and cradles her lithe frame close to her chest. Refocusing on the gap in the trees, she follows the seemingly strange old lady through the Whispering Woods.

No immediate danger’s apparent to them, but they can feel the quickening heart beats and fear rendering their companion into a state of detachment and anguish. They moan, mane flaring a deep red, feeling her distress through their bond. Bounding out of a small ravine, they cloak and sprint towards the Valley. They need to find her other half.

They need to find Adora.

The emergency contact alert from Bow’s tracker pad startles him. Although he and Entrapta programmed and updated the software in all communicators to include emergency contacting and distress signals, he had hoped that they wouldn’t have to be utilized. 

At least not this soon.

His current project comes to a halt. Pulling out his tracker pad as he starts toward the command center, he sees who the alert is coming from: Catra and Scorpia.

Catra and Scorpia who have been dealing with the Fright Zone for the past three weeks. Who arguably have the most dangerous job in the field aside from Adora. Who haven’t gotten back yet and should’ve been back a few hours ago. 

Oh no .

He opens the comm as he sprints from the makerspace, gripping tightly to the pad.

“ Bow! Oh thank goodness you picked up, ” he hears Scorpia’s relieved voice on the other end. Usually Catra calls and sends progress reports and updates. Bow’s worried.

“Scorpia what’s going on?” Bow slides into the room and approaches the map on the table. His concern builds as he searches for their spots on the map. They’re not in the Fright Zone… but they’re not near the outpost, either. Looking back to the tracker pad, he can’t tell where Scorpia is--outside of a hut or a cottage maybe?

“ Um, well, Catra and I were on our way back, but while in the Woods, Catra found one of Prime’s chips.”

“Wait, what? Are people still being chipped? Are you two okay?”

“ Oh! No, no, people aren’t being chipped… at least I don’t think so--not to my knowledge. The chip was probably discarded because of Entrapta’s code. ”

Right as Bow is about to release a sigh, he sees the unease on Scorpia’s face. “Where’s Catra?”

“ Catra--she found the chip. It was just lying there in the grass. I didn’t even notice it walking by. But it scared her. She was already pretty anxious to begin with, and I don’t know how much sleep she’s been getting. I--I would’ve called sooner, but Catra had the pad so… ”

Even though Adora never tells Bow much about Catra's past or how either of them were really doing while in space, it’s not hard for Bow to figure out what Scorpia’s not directly saying. And furthermore, she’s right in wondering about how much actual sleep their friend’s been getting, because Bow knows she hasn’t. Both her and Adora. Overworking. Constantly worrying and repressing it. Not being able to shut off their thoughts. A large part of it is due to Adora’s wound. But even then, it’s only been a few months since Catra was rescued from Horde Prime’s ship, and only three weeks since whatever happened in the Heart. Stress has been consuming them whole and Bow’s not sure what he can do to help.

“That’s okay, Scorpia. The map says you’re somewhere in the Whispering Woods--do you know where? It’ll be easier for Glimmer to teleport to you if there’s some familiar markers around.”

“ You see, that’s the interesting thing--I’ve never really been to this part of the Woods, but this old lady found us and she kind of freaked me out at first, but then she helped Catra and told me to follow her? So I did, and now we’re at her hut and Catra’s inside resting. She calls herself Madame Razz, and I know Adora’s talked about a Razz a few times, and I’m pretty sure there’s only one Razz out here in the Woods, so I don’t think I led us into more trouble, but you never know, ” she chuckles.

Razz! Bow can work with this. “Don’t worry, Scorpia. You can trust Razz. Adora trusts her, so I do, too. You’re pretty deep in the Woods, though. While I haven’t been to Razz’s hut, I know that Adora and Swift Wind have and it’s near an old First Ones temple which I have been to because we left Darla there after taking it from you two in the Waste.”

“ Okay, that’s good… is Adora there? ”

Bow pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to release the tension. “No, Adora’s not going to be back until pretty late--she’s been asking about staying out later doing nighttime recon for the past week and Glimmer finally let her. Personally I think it’s already a huge risk that she’s even out there, but I think Glimmer still feels guilty about everything that happened right after she became Queen, so she’s not going to control Adora’s actions, even really reckless ones.”

“ We should probably tell her what happened. Do you think she’d come back early if we did? ”

“She definitely would, but I don’t want to use Catra like that, even if we do mean well. That being said, she’ll flip if we don’t tell her… I’ll notify her and let her know briefly what happened once we get you two back to Bright Moon. That way, she knows Catra’s safe and Adora’s less likely to do something that could compromise her position. Glimmer got back from Salineas a few hours ago, and she hasn’t gone to the Whispering Woods to help there yet, so she’s around. I’ll get her to you as soon as possible. Just hang in there for a little bit longer, okay?”

---

Disoriented. And heavy.

All the feeling pulls from her limbs and pounds into her chest. 

Up. Into her throat. 

Pushing down. 

Stuck.

“Adora?” her hoarse voice whispers.

Her arms are deadweights, but she still lifts one to reach out and grasp her partner. Only to find that she’s not there with her. And the pillow doesn’t smell like Adora. And the blanket's not as soft as it usually is. Slowly, she tries to blink open her eyes. The pounding in her head causes her to groan. But she forces them open and panics at the sight. She doesn’t know where she is. And Adora’s not here. How did I get here? She’s not sure what she was doing before. Walking…  Walking from the Fright Zone. With Scorpia. Scorpia. Where is Scorpia? She doesn’t know. And she doesn’t really remember. Not with all of her thoughts muddled and disconnected. Why do I feel like this? Maybe they were ambushed? Holding her tail tight against her body, her breathing quickens at the thought. 

“Easy now, little kit.”

Catra shoots up to a sitting position to find the voice. And she immediately regrets it. An old lady with a broom approaches the mat. Her knobby fingers grasp Catra’s shoulder and she gasps at the touch, fur standing on end, but she doesn’t have the energy to pull away.

The old woman tuts, rubbing Catra’s back. “Don’t worry, old Razz is only here to help. No one’s hurting you anymore,” she soothes. Guiding her back onto the mat, she pats her head. “That’s it… There. Now let me get my things and I’ll patch you up, dear.” The wacky old lady-- Razz, I guess --scampers around the hut muttering to herself, grabbing and putting away various things, putting a kettle on the fire, and moving baskets before running outside.

Honestly Catra’s not sure how to react. If she even can outwardly express much through her exhausted and dazed state. She wants to just melt away under the blanket, but she doesn’t know where she is, who Razz is, or how to get out of this situation. She has no plan and she’s not sure how fast she can form one. And why do I need to be patched up? Going to survey her body for any damage, Catra turns and lifts her head.

The day’s events come back with the searing, burning pain at the back of her neck. 

Before she can stop it, she cries out, hands flying to the site of her torment. Both eyes scrunch shut as she hisses, trying to hold in any other reactions back from surfacing and alerting the lady outside. But the sound of small fluttering and the bristling of a broom draw closer. The curtain door brushes open as Razz and another figure enter. Catra can almost place where the soft, heavy footfalls come from, but her mind won’t connect the pieces for her. Thanks for nothing, brain .

A small whisper travels across the room, almost hesitant and afraid that it’ll shatter the recipient on the other end. “Hey, Wildcat?”

Scorpia.

Catra rips her eyes open and still clasping her neck, rolls over to see Scorpia standing, holding the curtain in the doorway. Knowing that Scorpia’s here relieves some of the fear and panic that have been welling inside her since she woke up in this hut. Letting her eyes flutter shut, she slowly exhales. When she opens her eyes again, Razz is behind her, gently pulling Catra’s hands away from the wounds and Scorpia’s in front, looking at Catra. She tries to form words, but her friend stops her.

“Shhh, just rest, okay? I checked in with Bow and Glimmer’s on her way, and Razz here is cleaning you up. We’ve got this--right, Razz?”

“Yes, dearie, listen to your friend. You need to rest your mind--too much going on in your head that it hurts you--much like my Adora.”

Her ears perk at the name. How does Razz know Adora? She looks to Scorpia for some sort of answer, but she just shakes her head and mouths “later,” with a small smile.

“Razz sees that she’s your Adora, too. Our Adora will be okay. She’s strong. And so are you.”

Catra doesn’t notice or feel Razz working on the back of her neck until she hears a squelch and the trickling of water. Her breath hitches and she goes to cover her neck on reflex. Only for her hand to be swatted away.

“Tch, don’t touch, little kit! I know it hurts. So much hurts and you are afraid. Memories getting mixed up in time. Always real. But how are you two supposed to get better if you keep hiding the wound from people trying to help?”

She’s stunned. So many questions about this strange old woman populate her head, but all Catra can focus on is staying awake. Her heartbeat hasn’t left her ears, but it has relaxed and subsided some, making the throb in her head much more bearable. Letting her eyes wander, she glances around her environment. Lots of random pottery pieces and pots and pans are strewn about the hut, and Catra traces the roots and branches that intertwine and weave in and out at the front and into the ceiling. A welcoming fire sputters and snaps across the room. She wills herself to reach out, even if it’s just in her head, to move closer and absorb the warmth. And although the fire doesn’t move closer, Catra finds herself being comforted and lulled to sleep by a filling warmth and the louder crackles of the fire.

It’s weird, seeing more people still loyal to the Horde’s commands than clones. And weirder yet, it’s not so much displaced and former Horde soldiers as it is criminals, bounty hunters, and even civilians . People who weren’t involved in the Horde in some significant capacity before. And so far, no one who has come is still chipped, if any of them were chipped to begin with. But as much as it baffles her how many people are still trying to carry out Prime’s will, Adora can see why so many of these people are. Growing up in the Horde, she was manufactured to accept the Horde’s beliefs and propaganda without ever having much of a semblance of who she was. Not until she found the Sword. That fucking Sword . But between the Sword and finally seeing the Horde from an outside lens, she easily left, partially because of her misplaced sense of duty and her already existing obligation to protecting Etheria, and partially because she had been programmed, blinded, and used. Because she just assumed that everyone in the Horde just didn’t know that they were all misguided and being lied to, Adora thought that people, that Catra would leave with her. Leaving the Horde seemed so right when she thought she had nothing to lose. 

But when she realized that she did have something to lose, she had already lost it. 

And it took her almost three years to recover what she had lost.

A lot of these people probably have something to lose. Or they already have lost it. Something important enough that they are willing to stay loyal out of fear of him. Some worry about his return. Others probably don’t think that he was actually defeated. The frightening realization is that some are in it for the money, thinking they’ll still get a reward, and some just want to, just for the hell of it . And even more frightening, there are those who really do believe in Prime’s ideologies, as twisted as they are. 

The thought makes Adora sick.

She adjusts the hood on her cloak again, rubbing the edge between her fingers to ground her. Turning back, she spots Huntara, who gives her a nod and continues to lean back against the wall of the watering hole, looking at the tracker pad’s map. Word of mouth from various sources was that this bar had a lot of Horde activity and planning, so Huntara and Adora trekked through the Waste to this small town located in a pass between some rock formations in hopes of learning more about numbers, plans, and their intelligence on the Union and Princess Alliance while remaining unnoticed in the alley.

As people drift in and stumble out, Adora watches and listens from behind some crates at the front of the alley. She jots down notes in her small log book. There’s moderate traffic--more than usual according to Huntara. It’s hard to pick up on who’s going in for the meeting and who’s going to drink, though. 

Until she sees a person approach the bar with a large white piece of metal.

An arm cannon.

The same one that the clones and Horde bots had on their arms. Just like the ones that massacred villages and towns and attacked mercilessly, shooting through buildings and civilians. It took a few days to organize and clean up, but the princesses were all sure that the bots and drones had been disabled and deactivated, their weapons collected and locked up, and Entrapa and Wrong Hordak were helping all of the misplaced clones orient themselves to life with freedom and individuality.

Maybe some clones joined factions out here?

And maybe some did. It wasn’t like all of the clones took Big Brother’s demise well. But even then, the Alliance still has tabs on those few clones, and none of them have even left the Whispering Woods or have even expressed organizing like this. 

Or a spy on the inside? It’s possible, though it turns out that much like Wrong Hordak, not many of the clones are good at lying yet.

Adora crouches, pushing herself flush against the stack or crates and angles her head to try and listen more to the activity.

“It’s a joyous day, Brother. Glory be,” a voice says. She sees the person holding the cannon reach out to shake, but the crates and the wall of the building obstruct her vision and she can’t see the other person.

“Glory be,” the person with the weapon replies. 

They sound like people who worship Prime. But their phrasing is so strange . Like they completely removed Prime from their speech. Maybe because he’s dead? And if not ‘Glory be to Horde Prime,’ then glory be to what?

“I see you’ve acquired one of the clone’s weapons?”

“Oh, I’ve had this hidden away for a while. Back when Prime reigned, a group of bots raided the town and I cut off one of those arms and swiped the blaster. Figured we’d have more use for it now.”

Well, that explains where that came from. But what would they be using it for?

“Yes. We’ll need more firepower, but we’re organizing well. We’re almost ready to carry out--”

A large groan interrupts Adora’s listening and she turns around, startled to find Melog butting their head against her arm. 

“Melog?”

Their mane reddens and flares and they moan once more, pulling Adora’s attention completely away from the conversation she was listening in on.

“Melog, hey--hey, calm down. We need to keep quiet,” she says lowly. Adora quickly puts her hand on their head, trying to settle them. But Melog whines and pulls on Adora’s sleeve, still flashing red. Their energy remains frantic and panicked. Melog isn’t supposed to be here. The tracker pad dings. They’re supposed to be in the Valley of the Lost. Adora doesn’t like this. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, Blondie?” Huntara says in a hushed tone, “I think this might have something to do with it.” 

Extending her arm, Adora reaches for the tracker pad and begins to read Bow’s message. 

Catra…

She glances back to Melog, heaviness setting in her stomach. Quickly, she sends a message back to Bow. This morning, Glimmer agreed to meet her after recon at a location roughly an hour’s walk from this spot--45 minutes if she’s pushing it. And she is. Recon will have to wait. She needs to get back to Bright Moon now . 

Turning to Huntara, she motions to hand back the tracker pad and begins to rise from her crouched position behind the crates. “Huntara, I’m sorry but--” 

Adora yelps. Her words are severed by a forceful yank on the back of her cloak. Slipping out of the loose covering to keep from being grabbed, Adora tumbles and rolls onto the ground. The tracker pad flies from her grip, skidding and clattering to a stop a bit away from her. Adora looks up.  

“Well what do you know?” The assailant shifts her eyes from the cloak in her grip to Adora, whose breathing is slightly labored. “Maybe it’s our lucky night. We can just take you out right now,” she cruelly smiles. A few accomplices standing behind her pull out their weapons and prowl closer to Adora. Predators swarming their prey. 

Disoriented. 

Adora would’ve been less disheveled by the sudden ambush if she had even just a moment more to process Melog’s arrival and Bow’s message about Catra and finish the new plan she was forming in her head. No time to do that, now . She’s only disoriented for a moment, but it’s just enough as she starts to scramble up that an attacker grabs a hold of her ankle. Just one step too slow. And she slams back down on the rugged ground as they drag her. The palms of her hand tear in an attempt to grip at the ground and slow down as sand and rocks cut at them. The person pulling her twists hard, earning a cry from Adora. She turns onto her back to try and relieve the pain, but Adora can feel her shirt beginning to ride up as the ground grates her skin. If she’s one of this group’s main targets, she cannot expose her non-healing wound. That’d only make her more of a target for them. Adora lets the attacker drag her closer. Using her free leg, she sweeps at his legs, sending him with a pained grunt to the ground.

Huntara charges ahead with a yell and swipes at the bandits with her sword-staff, covering for Adora. Adora recovers, pulling herself to her feet and steadying herself on the wall. Her side stabs at her. It’s likely open and bleeding again. Not much longer until it starts to seep through the bandage. She applies pressure to her ankle, sucking in her breath as the pain shoots through her leg. In the Horde, she and her squadron trained through injuries all the time. Adora fell from a structure during a training exercise and broke two ribs. 

“Get back up, Cadet!”  

She kept going. And going. And going. Until Catra forced her to stop and rest after dinner. An ankle sprain can’t stop her. Not right now. I can fight through this, push past it. She begins to draw her staff, but an inkling deep down stops her. And in just that small pause, just to feel out what that flicker is, a fire ignites and spreads inside her.

It startles her. It’s been a bit since she’s felt that feeling. Energy swarming in her body, pulsing, raditing, eager to emerge. She just hopes she can reach it.

Come on, please.

She needs to protect.

Just give me this.

She needs to get home to Catra.

I really need you right now.

Pushing down her pain, she tries to focus on the feeling inside. Her hand reaches out, shaking, struggling in an effort to summon and grasp on to the power. It slowly wells up, trying to extend out, pushing against her confines. She tells herself to push past and forget about her failed attempts through the weeks. Push down her doubts and fears. Push away those feelings.

More people, presumably ones that will fight her, stream out the back door and into the alley. They’re closed in.

Everything hums and gradually shimmers, an outline materializing, almost within reach. It wavers and flickers out. 

She’s so close.

Closing her eyes, she sucks in a deep, shaky breath.

If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for your friends. 

Her arm thrusts out again with more command.

For Catra .

Her sword materializes, flashing into existence. Barely within reach, but the magic seeps through. It’s just enough. Adora holds tight to her sword, worried that if she lessens her grip, her sword and the connection will snuff out.

“For the Honor of Grayskull!”

The familiar light envelops her.

She-Ra.

Tuning into the planet around her, she releases a blow into the ground. An onslaught of magic pulses from her and ripples in waves, splitting the rock and sending dust and sand flying outwards toward the group. Huntara falls back, joining her.

“Damn, I see She-Ra got an upgrade.”

She-Ra glows just a bit brighter at the comment. 

The dust settles and they regain visibility. Many are on the ground, trying to recover from the fall and regain balance. She’s hoping that the warning pulse scares them off, or at least will make them think again before trying to fight her. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone--she’s not sure who’s just misguided and who’s at the point of no return. And even so, she knows how destructive She-Ra’s magic can be, and she doesn’t want anyone to suffer a fate on the other end of her blade. But they all remain, and they collect themselves, blocking her exits once again.

“Alright, She-Ra, what’s your plan now?” Huntara stands back-to-back with Adora, her stance ready.

Gears turning, a new plan forms in her head as she stands ready to defend an attack. She would not call it a good or concise plan in any means, but it is a plan. And that’s enough for her to work off of. “I didn’t want to, but I think we’re going to have to fight our way out of this. From there, we need to get to the meeting point as fast as we can.”

Melog uncloaks themself, standing with Adora.

“Melog, go to the point so someone’s there when Glimmer arrives. In the event we don’t make it there, find us.”

They sound their worry, but cloak again and take off into the desert. Leaving Huntara and Adora to fight as the groups of Horde loyalists advance and attack again.

It’s not that Adora doesn’t hate fighting--it’s something that excels at and enjoys, especially because she can spar again with her partner. But as She-Ra, she’s always been constantly worried about harming and potentially killing others, even if she means to. Even with the Sword siphoning and restraining She-Ra’s power, she still had more than enough power to be destructive and she was scared of it, of spiraling out of control. Now that there’s no confines on She-Ra’s magic, she’s exponentially more powerful, and with that, much more dangerous. She knows what it feels like to channel it, to be a walking beacon of light, blinding and incapacitating those around her who wish her harm. To be able to destroy fleets of starships with a swipe of her sword. To expel a soul from existence. But these opponents aren’t bots, or First Ones’ tech, or even chipped princesses who can take a blow; they’re just normal people. People are trying to take her down, but still people. So she holds back. Not just on her attacks, but also on her power. As much as she yearns to channel it, she pushes down on it, tries to remain in control. Every counterattack, every slash and cut, every blast of magic that glides off the sword, Adora aims to subdue while causing minimal harm. It’s draining, being in combat while fighting against She-Ra’s strength. And yet she and Huntara still gain the upperhand, knocking down assailants and forcing through. Both groups of attackers are subdued, either caught in a magic binding or unconscious. They begin to move out.

A high-pitched whine quietly forms, building energy as it charges.

A powerful strike from behind makes She-Ra drop, leaving Adora to collapse from the blow. Huntara hears the blast and turns around to find the now smaller blonde sprawled out and facedown in the dirt, slowly coming to her senses as she groans. Red sinking into the side of her shirt. She then moves her focus to the source of the blast: A man with a Horde arm cannon. They meet eyes and she snarls, readying her weapon, poised to attack. But he throws the cannon on the ground and before Huntara can make her move, he lunges for the girl on the ground.

“Kid!”

Adora’s yanked backward by the ponytail, into her attacker’s grip, and before she can struggle out, the blade of a dagger appears at her throat. He keeps a tight hold on her as she tries to wrestle the arm with the knife away from her, just enough to get out without a fatal wound. But he pushes the dagger into her skin at the resistance and pulls her head up and back, clutching more hair in his hands to expose more of her neck. Wincing, she takes quick shallow breaths, trying to calm her bounding pulse while not moving more into the blade.

Her eyes meet Huntara’s. They’re filled with anger and worry. Adora hardens her stare a bit, flits her gaze down to the discarded tracker pad and back to Huntara, pleading with her eyes. Huntara follows Adora the second time, also spotting the piece of tech and slightly nods. Pressing her lips into a grim line, Huntara shifts out of her stance, collapses her weapon, and takes off, grabbing the tracker pad on the way out.

“Stupid of you to trust anyone out here,” the attacker grates. “We’ll just have to wait and see what to do with you once more of my Siblings come around.” 

Time’s not on Adora’s side. The ropes of magic are beginning to fade around many of the loyalists and others are stirring awake. Even with no energy, Adora’s survival instinct kicks in. If she has any way of maximizing her chances of escape, she needs to find it now. 

Close your eyes, Adora. 

Take a deep breath. 

What weaknesses can I exploit in his hold?

They’re on the ground. He’s behind her. Because she’s on her knees she has a sturdy wide base. She could break out by dropping her shoulder and throwing herself forward, but there’s one arm--with a dagger--around her exposed neck. In a chokehold almost. That would end in a slit throat at worst and a very large cut at best. Her body is restrained, but her arms aren’t. Not fully anyways. Her head is immobile, though. Hair balled in his hand. Not much wiggle room to knock her head back into his jaw. But she doesn’t need wiggle room. If she could just disrupt his hold on her hair, she could work with her position and throw him over her. Of course, there’s the risk of me getting nicked or stabbed somewhere else if I’m not quick enough or don’t execute it perfectly. It would have to be in one quick motion. She’s too exhausted to be able to transform into She-Ra, but maybe she doesn’t need to. Her fingers tingle again with energy trying to escape. 

The only weapon she might be able to access.

Will it appear for her in time?

Will it even appear for her at all?

All she needs is her sword.

And how would her sword help her in her current position?

I could cut through.

Cut off.

But she doesn’t want to cut off his hand.

Time’s running out.

She looks over to see the magic binds tapering off. They’re getting restless. They’re getting ready.

Her eyes shut again.

What’s your plan?

Cut off his hand?

What’s your plan?!

Or hope for someone to get to her in time?

What’s your plan!

Make a choice.

An impossible choice.

.

.

.

“You know you don’t have to choose,” Catra said, hugging Adora from behind. Resting her chin on her shoulder, she gently pressed her lips into her neck, mumbling, “Sorry if it felt like Bow and I were pressuring you earlier.”

Adora placed a kiss in Catra’s hair, softly giggling at her hiding from her apology. “It’s fine, Catra. I’m still coming with you guys! Besides, I already have a wardrobe full of clothes, so I don’t need new ones,” she smiled.

Catra unwrapped herself and moved to Adora’s front, grasping her hands. “I know, it’s just… why do you still wear a Horde uniform? Ready for duty every morning?”

“Everything else is uncomfortable and it just gives me a purpose.”

“Adora--”

“But it does, Catra!” 

“Adora. You’re allowed to exist outside of duty, out of obligation to a--a cause.” Catra’s words sliced through any counterargument Adora had. 

Her head fell. “...I don’t know who I am outside of this.”

Catra took her hand and carded her fingers through Adora’s hair, working her way through and letting the ponytail fall out. She tucked loose strands and parts of the fringe covering her face behind her ears. Crouching down some to meet Adora’s eyes, Catra brushed Adora’s cheek. “I know who you are. You’re more than just a soldier or She-Ra. You’re my Adora. My idiot with a stupid dumb hair poof to hold back her fringe. And if you don’t know yet, then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Adora wanted this. She wanted to be able to not be a soldier, to have no commitments imposed on her, to not feel the weight of the world on her shoulders, to just be Adora. Simply Adora. To let herself open up and be vulnerable. To find interests and have hobbies and try new things and live life and explore because she hadn’t. Not yet. 

But even with Prime gone and the war ended, she was still needed. Her work was never done.

She pulled Catra in close, embracing while hiding her face from her. “There’s just no time, Catra. She-Ra or Adora, my purpose is to serve and protect this planet and the people on it.” 

There was no time. The world wouldn’t stop and nor did it care what she wanted. What she wore told her who she needed to be and what she needed to do. It wasn’t Adora, but it gave her an identity, a purpose. And without it she’d be lost. .

Adora took the hair tie off of Catra’s wrist and pulled up her hair again--a choice that was mostly made for function rather than style, but it was a choice that she had to herself. As envious as she was of She-Ra’s hair, she liked her hair. She already discarded her jacket. And beyond a golden wing buckle, it was the only thing that she could identify herself--and only herself--by.

.

Adora’s out of time. She feels the magic release on all of the people she subdued. Others are groaning and standing up.

.

I can lose another piece of myself.

If it means a man doesn’t lose his hand.

Pushing her hand out again, she hopes the magic manifests into her grip. 

Grabbing a hold, she opens her eyes.

In a swift motion, Adora moves her sword arm up and around and smoothly sweeps, slashing through her hair. Tension and weight suddenly release from her head and she finds herself recoiling forward at the chop. Acting quickly, she grabs the man’s knife arm, twisting it away from her throat, tucks her chin, and snaps forward, throwing him over her shoulder.

Hair falls into her face but it doesn’t fall onto her shoulders. As the adrenaline seeps from her system, she feels the ache come back to her body. Rising to her feet, she sways, but finds her ankle healed. Just the weighted throbbing ache she knows as the feeling after being healed by She-Ra. She moves to her hands, flipping them over and finding them free of any trace of the prior injury. 

… Does that mean?

Before she can look for the answer, it finds her as the group of Horde loyalists swarm in on her and she’s kicked in the back of her knees causing her to stumble. She catches herself with her hands. The sharp burning on her side comes back even more unbearable. One hand presses against the site of the wound and comes back slick with fresh blood. 

She’s kicked to the ground.

Her energy is beyond gone.

Someone drives a boot to her stomach. 

She’s surrounded.

Tears threaten to prick at her eyes.

Even if she were to fight off some of them, there’s just too many.

Someone lands on top of her and grabs her neck. 

That doesn’t mean I won’t try .

Her vision goes blurry as she fights to breathe.

She wraps her fingers around one wrist and grips her other hand on their upper arm. Pushing her knee out and bringing her legs up and around their body, she shifts her weight, swinging them off of her and she rolls on top. With a grimace, she twists the person’s arm, wrenching a pop from the elbow and breaking it. 

Pulling herself up, another swings, going for her head. She guards herself before sending an uppercut to her chin. As she cries out, Adora rasps out a cry, too, and grips her side. She’ll have to avoid offensive moves that use the rotation of her lower torso. She turns and uses the momentum of her body to send an elbow right into another one’s nose. She hears a crunch and cringes at the sound.

They start ganging up on her, realizing that she’s not one to be knocked down easily.

Shit.  

Each attack becomes harder to dodge, harder to block. Her offensive strikes become weaker. Everything flickering in and out as she absorbs more and more blows. When five people grab her, pushing down with the intent of sending her to the ground, her body finally caves in. Losing all resistance in her limbs, she sinks. 

They bind her hands behind her.

And the same dagger returns to her throat. But this time she has no options. Just fate.

The first attacker reappears, trudging up and leaning down to Adora, surveying her. She takes the knife from the man holding Adora, playing with it and letting the moonlight glint off of it. “The world would be so much better off if we killed you right now,” she points it back at Adora’s throat, poking into the skin, trying to needle a reaction out of Adora, but the blonde stares forward with a neutral face. “But,” she swipes the dagger across Adora’s thigh, shallowly cutting through her skin, “She-Ra makes good ransom money. Even if Horde Prime is dead,” she spits. 

One final blow to the head is all it takes for Adora to realize that she’ll be stuck in this situation: dragged through the desert as a hostage until whatever group takes her next. Unless she’s killed first. Her mind goes into overdrive, trying to keep the rest of her body from silencing her into unconsciousness, but her body sags and her eyes flutter. At some point, everything will darken and her mind will just stop. 

Lids shutting, she tries to think of anything to keep her awake.

But things fade in and out and her connection with the world fizzles as she feels herself burn out. 

One small, pink flicker of magic appearing further down the alley is the last thing she focuses on before she taps out. 

Chapter Text

The first thing she notices upon opening her eyes again is how fucking bright it is. Shutting her eyes again, she groans and shields from the light. The second thing she notices is the pillow. She knows this pillow. And the blanket--softer than the last time she woke up. The only thing different about the bed is that it’s only her. There’s supposed to be another person next to her. Her person holding on tight.

Taking in her surroundings, the third thing she notices while waking slowly is the quiet ruffling of fabric and the subsequent scrape of a drawer. She tries to blink open again, but she winces at the bright lights and promptly covers her eyes again.

“Can you turn down these damn lights? My head is already killing me.”

“Catra!” she cringes at the loudness of his voice. It’s Arrow Boy . “How are you feeling, bud?” The laundry drops as he makes his way over to her side.

“Lights,” she grumbles, hiding her face and ears into Adora’s pillow.

“Right, right. Sorry,” he apologizes. Perceptively, his voice softens. Catra lets a small smile appear on her hidden face as he moves to dim the light crystals in the room.

Metal lightly scrapes against the stone ground, coming closer to her. She peeks out from the pillow to find the once harsh light now much gentler on her eyes. Turning to the source of the noise, she finds Bow setting onto a plush ottoman beside her, on his tracker pad. Catra moves her gaze to an opening in the wall; it's dark out. And judging by the position of the moons, it's been dark for a bit. If she is to guess, Adora and Melog won't be back for a few hours. She turns her attention back to Bow, who is watching her intently.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare at me all night?”

He falters, but his expression turns into one of understanding. “Oh--sorry... I can just go. I know you value your space,” he says respectfully, beginning to stand.

Catra catches his arm and tugs, pulling him back. She sighs, “No… It’s--You’re fine. Do you mind staying? I don’t… I don’t think I should be alone with my thoughts right now,” she nervously laughs, trying to cover up any vulnerability peeking through.

Bow lights up and moves back to the ottoman. While he now considers Catra a fairly trusted person and even a good friend, they haven’t talked too much or hung out outside of Adora and Glimmer’s company. And although he’d like to spend more time getting to know her, he knows that all of this--joining the Rebellion, Bright Moon, the Princess Alliance--has been a really big adjustment for her. He also knows that she doesn’t trust easily and has her guard up a lot. There are a lot of boundaries and levels of comfort, and he’s trying his best not to cross them while also trying to get Catra to let him in a little bit more. He wants to be there for her just as much as Adora and Glimmer. He settles back into the cushion.

“No, I don’t mind one bit,” he says, a soft smile resting on his face. “So… do you wanna talk about anything, or just sit here, or… I don’t know. I’m really cool with whatever. I have been told that you need to take it easy, though. Queen’s orders,” he laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Sparkles says.” She sits up and begins to reach towards her neck.

“Careful!”

Catra glances at Bow, rolls her eyes, and touches the back of her neck. A soft bandage covers the wound site. She presses it some, but doesn’t fiddle with it too much. Placing her hand back down, she nods to herself before acknowledging Bow again. “I don’t really want to get into it right now, but do you know what happened after…” she hesitates before tapping her head and pointing to her neck, “this?” 

She studies him closely, waiting and preparing for a face full of pity, expecting blubbering words dripping in sympathy, but all he does is listen intently and nod, thinking some before speaking. “All good. We don’t need to dive into it, but basically, Scorpia called me and she said that Razz found you two in the Woods, so she took you two to her hut and patched you up. Glimmer brought you guys back here--after of course, a few frustrating attempts of trying to find you guys first,” he laughs.

Not even trying to suppress it, she cackles, “Even with a tracker pad, teleportation, and location spells, leave it to Sparkles to still get lost!”

“I think the Woods also likes messing with her because this has totally happened several times before,” he chuckles, “but eventually she did find Razz’s hut and then teleported you both back here.”

She cringes at the thought of teleporting, but it’s nothing more than that. No guttural reaction, no residual nausea. Huh. “Maybe I should sleep more when Sparkles decides to teleport. Then my stomach won’t flip,” she wavers before smirking.

At her moment of hesitation, Bow’s smile fades. And then he slowly reaches out. “Catra… You need to sleep. Just in general.”

Any warmth she shares quickly shrinks away. “I do sleep! It’s f--”

“No, you don’t.” Staring at her firmly, he presses just a little further. “You come in looking exhausted and tense every morning. I know you’re not getting enough sleep.” She grows smaller as she realizes how exposed she is. Bow softens, “Look, I know you’re dealing with a lot already from… from the past few months on top of everything else before. I don’t know what I can do to help that. I don’t know if you even want me to. And that’s okay. But I know that the new stress and tenseness comes from being--well, here , and worrying about Adora. Glimmer, Micah, and I are so worried, too. Her wound isn’t getting any worse, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. And she won’t open up much. And she’s overworking herself. And so are you. Please, Catra, I want Adora and you both to be happy and safe and healthy. I want you to know that I’m here and that I will try to help shoulder whatever burden I can, okay? You deserve at least that.”

“Why?”

“Because Adora cares about you--Glimmer does, too. And furthermore, I care, too. You’re my friend, Catra.” 

She crosses her legs and hugs onto her pillow, burying the bottom of her face into it. A muffled ‘thanks’ moves through the pillow. “You’re a good friend,” she mumbles, face still in the plush fabric. A soft rumble escapes her chest and reverberates through the pillow.

“Aw--”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

She meets his eyes again and shoots daggers at him, but as she rises from behind the pillow, Bow sees a grin spread on her face. One spreads onto his face, too, as he withdraws any interjections about how cute his friend’s purring is. 

Catra tries to stamp out any more involuntary purrs by clearing her throat. She straightens her posture but still grips the pillow. 

“When we go to my dads’ library in a couple of days we’re going to search for information about healing spells and, well, She-Ra’s powers and those limits.”

She frowns at the latter mention. “So, any updates on Adora?”

“Actually yes,” Bow starts nervously. He’s not sure how Catra will react. “She’s cutting her recon mission short.”

Confusion overtakes her expression. “Wait, what? Why? Is she okay?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s okay. She messaged Glimmer and I about 15 minutes ago saying to get her and Melog at the meeting location in 45 minutes, so she’ll be back soon.”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, it’s just that I kind of told her about what happened… Not-- not in too much detail , and I waited to send her a message until you were back here safe. Nothing urgent, just to let her know. Otherwise--”

“Otherwise she would’ve had your head after coming back. I get it.”

“You do?”

Catra chuckles, “This is Adora we’re talking about. Any time I got hurt back in the Horde she’d drop whatever she was doing to steal supplies from the medbay and make sure I was alright. Constantly. Honestly it was a little overbearing, but I’d do the same for her… but y’know, just less smothering.”

Bow laughs, “Less smothering? I watched you jump into a fire for her.” 

“Yeah, well someone had to watch out for her.” She rolls her eyes and mutters quickly, “Even if she never noticed, I was protecting her while growing up, too.”

“Seriously, how did you two not figure out your feelings until recently?”

“Well it didn’t help to be raised in the Horde.” 

The banter halts. “That must’ve been hard,” is all he says. He can never imagine or begin to understand what it must’ve been like. And he knows that he has no idea. Catra isn’t one to share too many details and Adora even less. Sure, he had a few previous conversations with Catra and Glimmer. And he was able to gauge Adora’s comfort level and concerns whenever the subject of her past in the Horde was mentioned in Alliance and Rebellion meetings. In those meetings, Adora was constantly met with thoughtless words of support, insensitive jabs at how evil the Horde was to everyone, and the usual expression that she’s “not like them.”  

Bow remembers saying those exact words to her face a bit over a year ago.

And he remembers how hurt she was by that sentiment. 

It caused him to rethink how he saw the war. How he saw people in the war. Made him more conscious about Adora’s position in the Rebellion and how it must all feel for her. But a lot of the Princesses just didn’t get it. They still don’t. Not even in the slightest. And that also applies to the majority of the current Union.

Bow won’t comment further, even though he’s likely one of the few people in this castle who can see beyond the Horde just being ‘evil.’ Instead he allows the space for Catra’s words to sink in.

It’s an uncomfortable silence. The tracker pad sits idly beside him, face up on the cushion. His eyes flit to the screen. Only a few spots remain--notably in the Crimson Waste. Everyone else signed off for the day, but Melog’s and Adora’s spots remain on the map. Melog’s dot is moving toward the meeting point while Adora’s remains still in the same place. He moves his attention back to Catra again, who is still looking at him. 

It registers.

Adora’s dot on the map hasn’t moved. 

He quickly turns his attention back to the tracker pad, trying to assess this new development. Huh.

“What’s wrong?”

As Catra shifts closer toward Bow and the pad, he takes it and begins to investigate. “I’m not sure. The dot from Adora’s tracker pad hasn’t moved since she last checked in, but Melog’s tracker that they have is moving. I think it might be a glitch.”

The girl next to him reaches out, “Let me see?”

Bow hands over the pad. 

“Bow, why is Melog coming from the direction of the bar? They weren’t supposed to converge with Adora until much later.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “Well, Adora’s message said something along the lines of Melog showing up and freaking out and then after reading my brief message about you, well… she put the pieces together pretty fast as to why they found her and were so distressed.”

“Leave it to my weird emotional bond with my weird alien companion to complicate things.”

“They’re good for you, though,” he smiles. 

Catra hums in acknowledgement and stares at the screen for a moment before she starts tapping on the screen. Focus takes over her features as she continues to search and dig, tapping and swiping the screen with precision. 

“Catra, what are you--”

“It’s not a glitch.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Look.” She gives the pad back to Bow, the display now showing the current status of system functions in Adora’s tacker pad. And she’s right. From the looks of it, the pad hasn’t cut out and has been continuously sending data to the main system about its location since it was turned on in the Waste.

“How did you do that?”

Catra crosses her arms. “When you spend well over a year or so with Entrapta and her constant projects and rambling about them, you pick up a few things,” she chuckles some, but her face then contorts and she shrinks a little. “And even after I sent her to Beast Island I still used her tech in the systems. Figured that she has a data reader and display for transmissions and tracking apparatuses built into this administrator pad,” she mumbles. 

“Why didn’t I ever think of that? Catra, that’s brilliant!”

“I mean maybe compared to the one brain cell you all seem to share around here it is, but it really is just intuitive common sense,” she smirks, “but sure, yeah, I am pretty brilliant and Entrapta is, too.”

“One brain cell? We all definitely have more than one brain cell!”

Smugly, she raises a brow.

“ … most of the time,” he squeaks out.

“If it makes you feel any better, you definitely are the keyholder of the few brain cells in Bright Moon.”

“That’s the closest I’m going to get to a compliment from you, so I’ll take it. Thanks,” Bow smiles. “Now, Techmaster Catra , what’s going on with Adora’s tracker pad?” He hands her the device, letting a bit of worry take over his thoughts again.

“Never call me that again,” she snaps.

Bow smirks, holding her gaze and staring her down.

“Ugh, Please ,” Catra grates, before continuing. “Anyways, most of these readings look fine--wait! Here.” Her brows furrow. Catra snaps and points to a spot next to her, commanding Bow over with two quick pats on the bed. She points to a line of script next to a timestamp. 

From about 15 minutes ago. 

“The internal temperature spiked and then the system’s uptime reset. From there, the battery percentage significantly dropped,” she says, puzzled.

“Sounds like she dropped it and it probably sustained some internal damage. Definitely the battery, at least, considering the drain in power and the pad heating up and rebooting. Maybe the drop also damaged the microprocessor or the tracker receiver hardware? It could explain the fixed position on the map,” Bow reasons, though he’s not entirely sure that explains why Adora’s coordinates remain the same.

“Oh, I bet you that she definitely dropped it,” she laughs, eyes still fixed on the script, “but nowhere in these readings indicate any possible damage to the tracking receiver hardware. Aside from the reboot and resetting of the uptime on the device, all system functions have resumed just fine,” Catra frowns. Unease seeds in the pit of her stomach. 

“Catra, she’s probably fine. You know Adora--she probably just found a new way to break or damage some part of the tracker pad, and when she returns, Entrapta and I will take a look at it and fix whatever is wrong with it.”

At that, Catra closes out of the system log and returns to the map, waiting for Adora to come back. 

And now the dot is moving.

Fast.

Obviously the tracker receptor hardware is working. Adora’s marker is moving in the same direction as Melog’s, though it’s still behind theirs. 

I hope Adora hasn’t done anything stupid . Catra fondly regards her partner in her thoughts. That idiot. 

My idiot .

But the chiming of an emergency signal brings her back to the present moment. 

And a frantic Glimmer brightly bursting into the darkened room shakes any and all good feelings from her. Forget about what’s wrong with Adora’s tracker pad--something is very wrong with this whole situation. 

“Bow! Catra! We’ve got a big fucking problem!” 

Glimmer rushes forward, approaching the two on the bed. She holds her personal tracker pad in her hands, reading and typing back furiously to whoever the recipient is on the other side. Catra’s not sure who Glimmer’s communicating with, but she knows for sure what this is about.

Adora.

Catra’s tail snaps fitfully as the realization hits her. Bow nudges her before gently putting a hand on her shoulder. He’ll never understand Catra’s ticks and tells the way Adora does, but he’s learning how to pick up on her thoughts through some body language. Especially her tail. And right now Catra’s likely internally freaking out. Bow gets it. He is, too. Adora is his best friend. But in order to figure out more and a subsequent plan, he needs to ground himself and brace for the impact of whatever new is coming their way. A singular breath is all he allows himself to become more centered and focused. We’ll get through this together. Whatever it is that has been thrown at them. Breaking the short silence, he turns to Glimmer, wondering what she knows and where she’s getting her information from.

“Glimmer, what’s happening?”

With a pained expression, she briefly looks Catra’s way. But underneath it is also something else: 

Guilt.

Just the tiniest hint, but ever present. If Catra hadn’t been stuck on a ship for weeks with the Queen, she surely would’ve missed it. 

What the hell are you feeling guilty about, Glimmer?

Glimmer’s attention snaps back to Bow, panic rising in her chest. “My source in the Waste reported in. The mission--”

The chiming of an incoming emergency transmission on Bow’s administrator pad cuts her off and Bow opens the channel in an instant. All three people crowd around the device in his hands.

“Adora’s in trouble!” Huntara’s worried face comes onto the screen. She’s running. “We need to get her out of there now !”

Before Glimmer or Catra can get a word in, Bow asks, “Where’s Adora and where should we teleport to?” 

“She’s still by the bar we were staking out. Your alien cat should be near the meeting point by now. Go there first because chances are we’ll need them to extract her. I’ll be a mile out from the bar. Use my location on the map to find me and then we’ll go in and get the kid. Hurry.”

She signs off, leaving the three in the dark. Only the quiet hum of tech fills the room as they sit for seconds in their own thoughts.

Catra breaks the tense silence. “Glimmer, what the fuck is going on ?”

“Their mission was compromised.”

“ How? ”

“I’m not sure, but the group of Horde loyalists they were gathering intel on found them and attacked.”

Catra has figured as much from the moment Glimmer teleported in, but something isn’t adding up in her head. There are few rules in the Crimson Waste and even fewer warnings, but the most important reminder rings loud and clear in her head. You can’t trust anyone in the Crimson Waste . What other contact does Glimmer have out in the Waste, and can that person actually be trusted? Who’s to say it’s not a trap? Or that Glimmer’s so-called source is what put Adora in danger in the first place?

“And who told you this?”

The ruler falters before making direct eye contact with her advisor. “I have another source out there. Another ally. And I swear I will explain later--you have my word--but right now we need to save our friend. Please, just trust me,” she answers without answering.

The sheen in Glimmer’s eyes reminds Catra of the two people in the room with her. The only two other people in the universe who care just as much about Adora as she does. The two people who supported her where Catra didn’t in the last three or so years.

How they both must feel at this moment.

Bow’s exterior is calm and focused on the issue at hand, but there’s a grimace on his lips and tension in his frame.

Glimmer looks like she’s about to hit something. Charged with distressed energy and ready to move into action.

Catra reminds herself; they’re just as scared as she is.

For sure Glimmer isn’t telling her everything right now and an aggressively familiar anger and feelings of inferiority poke at her. A fire iron pushing around coals to reignite a flame. And she hates it. She hates how it burns. How Glimmer can hide something from her, not trust her enough with this information. Whoever this source is.

Catra cannot revert to those old habitual thoughts. Not right now. She has to trust Glimmer. She does trust Glimmer. And Glimmer gave Catra her word. 

Catra nods, holding her stare with the Queen. 

Releasing a small sigh of relief, Glimmer gets up.

“Alright we need a plan.”

Perfuma readjusts the shared blanket draped over her shoulder before taking another sip of her hot drink. The weather’s been changing in Bright Moon over the past month, but cooler, cloudless nights filled with stars remain a constant. In a few weeks, the cooler weather will also shift to Plumeria, though it’ll remain much milder. Just cool enough to harvest, but still enough heat in the air and soil to allow the fields of flowers to stay in bloom during the day. And a gorgeous change in colors on the deciduous foliage.

“Wow, you make a really good hot cocoa.”

Smiling, she turns away from the stars to her friend sharing the other half of the blanket. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it, Scorpia. I used almond milk and some vanilla bean in this batch, but we can test out other ingredients and flavors in the next batches as the weather gets colder here,” she beams. “I haven’t ever tried it, but I’ve heard that hot chocolate with cinnamon and a hint of chili pepper leaves you warm and happy even on the most frigid days. And maybe we can ask Frosta if she has any favorite recipes since Snows is cold all year round!”

“That sounds so fun! Maybe we can also invite her and we could all have a little hot cocoa party!” Scorpia raises the mug delicately in her pincer and takes a long, fulfilling sip. “This is nice.” 

Both women gaze at each other, content with the other’s company as they sit together on the balcony. Holding the blanket so it doesn’t fall from her shoulder, Scorpia musters the courage and takes a baby scoot closer to Perfuma. The latter notices and sweetly smiles back, a small blush painting her cheeks. In this silent exchange, Scorpia’s eyes go wide. She’s not sure what to do next. In the past she never got this far, never to the point where the girl reciprocates affection. But Perfuma, in tune with the energy of the current moment, shifts closer to Scorpia, hugging the blanket around to help close the space between them.

And then she leans a bit and tilts her head toward her, resting it on her shoulder.

“This is nice,” Perfuma giggles.

Scorpia releases a shy, breathy, laugh and some nervous tension leaves her as she leans her head to rest next to Perfuma’s. Perfuma exhales, melting into the hug.

Cherishing her friendship with Scorpia has been one of the best things about ending the war. There’s time to let things develop organically. Room for exploration and growth without the crushing pressures and realities of conflict and destruction. Of course, there’s the aftermath of having a war, but restoration and healing foster much safer environments for people. No more Horde. No more Prime. No more violence.

“I really enjoy spending time with you, Scorpia,” she sighs. “Don’t tell anyone that I pick favorites, but you’re my favorite person.”

“Again, you should just marry her on the spot,” a reminder of Catra’s playful nagging pokes Scorpia from all corners of her mind.

Well, imaginary-Catra, that’s a really large commitment and I kind of just want to--

“Jeez, relax, I’m just teasing! I know you’re not just gonna up-and-marry her,” imaginary-Catra laughs.

Oh, good. I’ll wait a little bit longer and maybe let Perfuma make the first move, then. She probably--

Imaginary-Catra groans and slaps her imaginary palm on her imaginary head. “Real-me already told you--just shoot your shot! You obviously want to and dodging and bottling up your feelings isn’t going to get anything done.”

Takes one to know one. 

You mean like you? Scorpia smirks.

“Ugh! Just ask the flower princess out already!”

Scorpia concludes the conversation she has in her head and loosens the hug some to face Perfuma again. 

Shoot your shot. You got this.

“You’re my favorite person, too… And, um, speaking of favorite people and spending time together and whatnot, I was wondering--Perfuma--if maybe you’d like to do more than just hang out? Like I was thinking we could--I dunno--go on a day trip or something? Maybe like a nice picnic where the food isn’t just rations in disguise and neither of us are hunting for faulty flaming runestones or fighting? Well, I mean, we were only fighting because we were on opposite sides, but now we’re not, so--” she nervously chuckles to stop rambling. I can do this . Deep breath . She continues on. “Do you want to have a picnic with me on our day off? Like as a da--”

The chaotic sound of twinkling and the turbulent flash of bright magic blinds their vision and cuts off Scorpia.

“Good! Perfuma, Scorpia. Just the two I was looking for.”

“Oh! Glimmer! How wonderful of you to join us unannounced ,” Perfuma says, annoyance dripping through the cracks in her bright tone.

“No time. We need you both right now,” Glimmer dismisses in rushed fragments. She puts her hands on their shoulders.

“OH! COME O--”

Claws lightly scratch against the stone of the corridor floor.

An agitated pulse of feet on the marble. 

Nothing rhythmic or orderly about it.

Extending and retracting the blades at the ends of her fingers in disarray.

Sporadically her fingers will move to her ear and fiddle with the metal bits punctured in; twisting the stud around. Tugging on the small hoop.

 And then they’ll switch back in an instant to the squeezing motion. In and out.

Occasionally the tail will move to her lap so she can hold onto the end of it.

Anything to take her mind off what’s happening.

It’s not working.

It’s only been two minutes since the group left to get Adora.

Catra’s not sure when they’ll be back, but the longer the seconds drag on, the more dread pulls at her.

Bow sits next to her in the corridor outside of the command center. He tries to keep his worry in check, splitting it between his friend next to him and the tracker pad, awaiting an update, but he’s distraught and there’s very little he can control or do to help. Not much he can fix. He volunteered to stay behind, though. Because Catra’s staying behind. Though Catra was and probably still is mad at the decision.

“What do you mean I shouldn’t go?! My partner is out there, in the middle of the fucking Waste!” she yelled, slamming her hands on the command center’s table. The holographic map flickers.

“But you’re not--”

“I don’t care!”

“Your wound just started healing! You’ve barely rested and--”

“To hell with my neck! Adora is out there, likely getting--”

“Catra, we really don’t think it’s a good idea for you--”

“HER LIFE IS IN DANGER!”

“YOU’RE STAYING. That’s an order,” the Queen forcefully commanded, leaving no room for Catra to say anymore. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a slow breath. Using the table as a support, Glimmer placed her free hand on it. “I’m sorry, but you need to stay here. We'll go in and meet Melog at the first meeting point before meeting with Huntara at the second point. Then, Scorpia and I will go in and grab Adora. Perfuma, you, Huntara, and Melog will cover us at close range. Bow you’ll--”

“I’ll be here,” he cut in. “I’ll be right beside you, Catra.”His hand lightly touched her shoulder in uneasy reassurance that neither of them believed. Regardless, Catra directed a small nod toward the archer before pushing his hand off and stepping in Glimmer’s space. 

“You better bring her back.”

Before the group left, they reviewed their final plan with Catra along with possible contingencies. In the best case, everyone would arrive back, safe and sound. 

But nothing ever goes that well.

The most realistic outcome determined was that Adora would probably be retrieved alive, but there would also likely be opposition, and judging by the intense woman’s call earlier, Catra determined that either (a) there are too many violent Horde loyalists in one place attacking and they got separated, or (b) Adora’s life is currently being threatened. And the more she thinks about it now, agitated and counting the seconds, it’s probably both situations at once. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Catra?” Bow softly reaches out.

“What?” she distantly replies.

“Can I give you a hug?”

“Why?”

“Because you look like you need one… also I really need one right now.”

Catra shuffles closer in silence. Both put their arms around each other and exist in the void of sound and time. Everything feels frozen but ready to burst, like a held, sucked in breath. Uncomfortable pain building in the chest as the need to exhale becomes more and more vital. Insides screaming while the outside remains mute.

“It’s okay,” Bow soothes, “it’s gonna be okay.” He says it both for her sake and for his. Clinging onto those words doesn’t do much, but holding onto another person who cares keeps him from falling into the dark uncertainty of the whole situation.

“Hey Bow?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

“I… I hope.”

Her hands close tighter around the fabric of his top on his back.

Holding onto another person, specifically Catra, also reminds him that he needs to do some mundane, repetitive task to channel his fidgeting hands and stress into something controllable. And it would be very, very, good for Catra right now, too. Because right now her claws have torn holes into the back of his shirt and occasionally they prick into his skin when she squeezes her hands in response to the lack of security and assurance in his voice.

“Would you like to fold some laundry?” he asks.

She pushes herself out of the hug, immediately throwing cold distance between the two. “I’m sorry-- what? ”

“We can go back to your--or Adora’s? I’m not really sure about you guys’ rooming situation, but that’s besides the point--we can go back to the room and put away clothes.”

Catra just looks even more confused and even a bit mad. 

Okay, that’s an understatement--she looks very mad.

“Why the hell would I want to fold clothes right now? Adora, my partner, our best friend, is out there while we’re stuck here not being able to do anything . Do you even care?!” she hisses and closes herself away from Bow, who sits there shocked.

The tense silence lingers. 

Catra picks at the flexible cloth of her pants, staring at the stretching expanse of charcoal and gray.

Bow gazes through blurred eyes at her back.

“ Of course I care.”

Catra turns around when his delicate voice cracks in upset. Bow, one of her increasingly usual supports, cracks.  That thought shouldn’t have been voiced. Fuck. I didn’t mean it… I need to fix this.

She scoots her body closer to his. And gently puts a hand on his shoulder. She’s not sure how much it does to help, but she’s seen pretty much everyone else in this castle do it to provide support. “Sorry,” she manages, “I didn’t mean what I said.” To finish her gesture, she awkwardly pats his shoulder, unsure how much is necessary to get her point across.

Bow sniffles. Catra expects that. But he then chuckles, “Are you trying to pat my shoulder to comfort me?”

Catra sighs, “Don’t make it weirder than it already is.”

“You don’t have to pat my shoulder if you’re not feeling it.”

“Good.” She quickly retracts her hand and curls her tail around it. 

“The gesture is appreciated, though. And thank you… I probably should’ve better explained myself at first--see, Adora and Glimmer are used to it, but I try to manage my stress by doing things. And not in the same way they do--Glimmer being, y’know, brash and destructive to things, and Adora being self-destructive. I like to find healthy ways of stress-management by organizing and making things. And, well, before you woke up, I was doing your and Adora’s laundry because I noticed that you both have been so busy and haven’t gotten around to it, so I thought maybe if that activity could help me, it would also maybe help you?” he explains thoughtfully.

“Huh.”

Bow sees the thought processes fire off in her head. Even if they might end up still sitting here in sad pools of tears, at least the idea of finding a better way to manage all that stress ran through her head at some point. After learning and knowing Catra for a couple of months, and honestly even before that--pretty much after the first few interactions he had with her in battle--Bow knows that she doesn’t have very good coping mechanisms. Another thing to thank the Horde for, I suppose. He can’t push her to do anything, but hopefully something constructive will come out of this conversation.

“You mentioned something about making things?” she asks.

“Yeah! I’ll go to my makerspace to work on a tech project or my trick arrows when I need to blow off some steam sometimes--what about it? Would you like to go? We can if that’d help.”

“Ew, no. I can use and operate tech, but I’ll leave the super-nerd stuff to you and Entrapta. You guys are good at that.” Bow rolls his eyes at the backhanded compliment, but Catra continues on. “Anyway, it’s not like I had the chance to before, and it’s probably super stupid, but…” she tapers off at the end, looking away from her friend next to her.

“But what?”

“Do you think maybe we could draw while we wait? Only--Only if the supplies are around--if not, we can just sit here and wait. I don’t want to leave this hall. I need to be here when they all come back.”

Bow smiles at the discovery of Catra's interests. Well at least one interest. “Of course. There should be pads and pencils in the command center. Let me grab some.” Standing up, Bow stretches some and heads toward the doors to the large room. 

But he doesn’t get to grab the drawing utensils.

Or even reach the door.

Because in a bright flash, a group of people appear in the hall.

And in the middle, in a large stoic woman’s arms, cradled and wrapped in a spare cloak, is Adora.

Unresponsive.

Unconscious.

But alive.

Adora .

Ah, Adora… so this is where you’ve run to hide.

Dark. Eyes burn. Shivering body. Body stuck. All curled up inside. Outside stiff. Won’t move. Blanket over. No focus. Hazy. Tears stream. Eyes open. Move across space. A gasp. There he is. Across. Why is he here? Why are you here? Eyes move. In front. Her heart. 

Tears. 

He moves closer. Mind recoils.

Body stuck.

Help. 

Only focus: her. He’s not coming. Not really here.

She hoped you would come for her… poor thing.  

Tears fall faster. Tired of crying. She tries to move closer. Blanket off. Deep breaths. Need fresh air. Arms. Legs. Whole body like sludge. 

But they move. 

But not enough.

Body still stuck.

Body like sludge.

Everything muddles. But he is clear. In front of her. Taunting. Moving closer.

Go on, fulfill your purpose.

Off. Onto tile. Heavy legs. Out. Dive toward floor. Thud. Stuck. Slumped. Push past it. Why couldn’t she? So heavy. Things burn. She burns. Writhing. He stares. He moves closer. Beside them. Reaching down. Eyes holding her blurred gaze.

Little Sister.

Four eyes move away. All focus on her heart. Above her. Looking down.

She was afraid in the end. 

On choked purring.

And she suffered.

On heartbeat in chest. 

I am sorry for the needless waste, Adora .

He’s not real. 

None of this is real. 

Why here? In front of her? Reaching down. With her heart in front.

Danger. 

Door push open. Light pour in. Shadow in light. 

Reaching. 

Calling. 

All noise lost. Never reaching ears.

Cold floor settles in. Welcome it. Sensation is distraction. Short distraction. Need to get to heart in front. Keep heart safe.

Still crumpled. Still reaching. And never arriving.

Help. 

Figure stalks up. Standing at side. Glance over. Feels so real. Almost can reach out and touch. Fear returns. Ignore. Refocus. Ignore. Refocus on biting cold. Ignore. Refocus on heart. On other half. 

Fine.

Fine. 

Fine. 

Fine. Need to be fine for others. Poor child. You can’t save anybody. You can’t even save yourself. Patter. More tears. Disappointing . Stop it. No. Legs like sludge. Vulnerable. Insides crumble. Weak . Tight chest. You will not be able to stop me . Blur. Goodbye, my oldest enemy.

Frantic footsteps.

Padding down the hall.

“Hey, I’m here,” someone says softly.

Someone crouches near. Not him, but someone. “Adora, it’s me...” Less blur. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” No words. “Nobody is hurting you now.” Hot tears now cold. “You have to breathe , Adora.” Warm embrace. Contact. 

Heart.

Catra.

Catra is here. 

Catra pulls her in. She whispers to her, sweet nothings that are everything grounding her in this moment, telling her that she is safe and loved. Calm. Calm and exhaustion begin to take over.

“I’ve got you,” Catra says. She pulls Adora closer and rubs her back, careful not to graze over open cuts and wounds. “You scared me,” her small voice shatters.

Adora protests. But words don’t escape her scratchy throat.

“Stay with me, okay?”

They sit there in silence. Holding each other. Adora settles. She never wants to let go. And they do not. At least for the night. 

Oh. Adora finally takes in her surroundings. She’s not in the Waste. Instead they’re in the corridor. Just outside the command center room. That’s a relief.

They stand, Catra helping Adora. One pair of legs take charge. The other pair hesitant and weak. Both pairs stand. One body embraces the other body. Catra keeps her from falling again.

They make their way down the hall.

“I love you.”

Minutes pass. 

Adora stares at the canopy surrounding her bed. She shifts her head to the other side and whimpers at the slight movement in her body, trying to suppress any sound of pain or discomfort from reaching her companion’s or anyone else’s ears.

But at each sound, Catra strokes her hair, letting her nimble fingers run through the shorn strands, and Glimmer sticks her head out from the washroom, immediately finding Adora’s figure on the bed, head resting in Catra’s lap.

Adora was in and out of consciousness as she and Catra made their way to their room. With her feet stumbling and Catra hauling, Adora tried to apologize--several times--but each movement felt more agonizing than the last, and every deep breath she took betrayed her with more pain. It didn’t take long for Catra to pick her up and hold her close, and after two more steps followed by stifled gasps from even the slightest movements, Catra called over Bow and Glimmer and the four of them teleported the rest of the way. Upon arrival, Catra set her down on the bed and the other two immediately made a beeline for her supply of washcloths, ointments, and dressings in her bathroom.

They come back out with supplies and find spots by her bed, both taking up her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Adora weakly reciprocates the squeeze, focusing long enough to make eye contact with her two friends before drifting again to another spot in the room. 

Glimmer runs a quick hand through her hair and turns to fully face Catra and Adora. “I can use a variant of the healing spell my dad and I have been using to scan and assess the amount of internal damage. I’m going to do that now, okay?” 

She waits for some sort of confirmation from the pair. Catra looks down to the blonde head in her lap. Adora seems hesitant at first, but she desperately wants to fix the damage done as soon as possible. She gives Catra the slightest signal of confirmation and Catra relays the message to Glimmer with a quick nod before putting all of her attention right back on her partner, cupping softly stroking the side of her face with her free hand. Glimmer starts the spell.

Pain is what stops her. What stops both of them. A shared burning, screaming, pain pulsing through Adora’s body and shared to Glimmer through her interaction and connection to Adora’s energy from the spell. She started the spell at the top of the head and was fine--she could tell Adora had direct trauma to her head a few times--but as she worked her way down, the similar feeling of mixing and draining energy and magic from the healing spell amplified itself, and within their shared connection both girls suffered. 

Catra shouts.

Bow pulls Glimmer out of the spell.

No more magic. They all agree to hold off on all spells and any runes, potions, or magical connections for Adora until they can learn more about their interaction with She-Ra’s magic and can determine what’s safe. Glimmer did determine from her spell, though, that Adora is surely physically battered and exhausted with broken ribs, a concussion, and some internal bleeding, among all of her external lacerations, bumps, scrapes, and bruises. So for now, Adora will have to be observed and will have to rest.

There’s no way Glimmer’s going to let her go on a mission tomorrow.

“Adora, is it okay to take off your shirt? Then we can clean you up,” Catra softly asks.

Again, Adora slightly nods and Catra attends to her, slicing open the dirty torn shirt with her claws. She pulls it off Adora without shifting her much and discards the white stained fabric to the middle of the floor. She turns back to the girl in the bed.

“Who did this to you?” Catra gasps.

Her hands hover above Adora’s torso; it’s covered in deep bruises in a range of purples and blues and various cuts. The persistent gash on her right emanates an angry inflamed heat while open and bleeding. Dust, blood, and sweat cling to every inch of her and threaten to stay embedded in open wounds. Catra can’t even think of what her back or her legs look like right now. Taking a deep breath, she submerges a washcloth in a water bowl and begins to remove the grit on Adora’s face, careful around little cuts.

Bow, Glimmer, and Catra work in silence.

She can’t sleep. Not well, at least. Adora scans the room and lands her eyes on the wall full of windows. She fixates on the open nature of her room and searches for any and all intruders. 

One intruder in particular.

She saw him earlier tonight.

He seemed so, so real.

But his figure is now gone. He was always gone. Never arrived. Because he never left her. Not after saving Catra. Always in the back of Adora’s mind. 

But now he’s clawed his way to the forefront of it, too.

Chapter Text

Glimmer’s pacing around the War Room. The ‘Command Center’ was reserved for rebuilding, growth, and eventual peace. And her idea of never having a war room again was killed hours ago when those Horde scum attacked her best friend. Maybe it was too soon to think that there’d be immediate peace after such a brutal and long war that nearly destroyed all of Etheria. Or maybe it was just naive. But either way, it feels like war again. The room’s once again crowded with the stress and chaos that war meetings tend to bring, though this chaos doesn’t sprout from enthusiasm or disagreement or present itself as shouts and talking over one another. No, the room is instead eerily quiet.

The last few members of the Princess Alliance to arrive quietly take their spots around the communications table, figures tense and eyes frantic and alert from the abrupt call for an emergency meeting. Taking her pacing in the direction of the room’s entrance, Glimmer shuts the large doors. Hushed whispering between people silences as she turns around and approaches her spot at the table. 

All are transfixed on the two empty chairs on the Queen’s right.

Only half the room knew about the details before now, but the whole room has a guttural sinking feeling--like the events of tonight were already known amongst the Alliance as soon as they occurred. Perfuma tightly holds Scorpia’s pincer as both remain silent in their seats. They haven’t uttered more than a few words to each other since they returned from the Waste. Mermista and Frosta, though abruptly roused from sleep, are wide awake with concern. Keeping each other up, Spinnerella and Netossa hold even closer than normal. Even Entrapta’s lost her energy and spark at the sight of the empty chairs. And Swift Wind, poor Swift Wind , stands anxiously in the back, already attuned to Adora and feeling-- knowing --that something is terribly wrong.

As Glimmer turns from the group to the empty chairs, sadness and fear transform into rage. She hates them. She hates the Horde. There’s no break--no end--to the Horde. Just a constant virus that spreads and takes away every time they seemingly find and take out the root of it. First it was Hordak taking over Etheria with his armies. Only then to realize that in beating him--well, more Catra beating him and Glimmer setting off the Heart--Horde Prime showed immediately after, and he was not only taking over planets and galaxies, but erasing and controlling in the name of “order” and “perfection.” 

And then just when we think he’s finally vanquished and gone, the Horde just has to come back again for whatever reasons Prime gave them when he was occupying Etheria including fulfilling a large bounty on She-Ra! 

It’s not until Bow works his hand into hers that she realizes that her fists are clenched and beginning to flare. Turning her focus over to her boyfriend, Glimmer sees him weakly smile and rub his thumb over the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath and using her other hand to stroke back her hair in a grounding gesture, she gives a thankful nod to Bow and quickly kisses his hand before clearing her throat. The room’s attention shifts to her.

 “Thank you all for arriving so promptly,” she begins, eyeing the closed door. Glimmer’s unsure of how much detail to go into--whether or not to let the rest of the Alliance know about Adora’s injuries, both the ones she sustained while fighting and the one persistent injury from before that’s been stumping them all for weeks. The doors are closed, so they’re in a more private space, but how long will information stay concealed if it’s spread throughout this room? She trusts the Princesses, but Adora is also trusting her. Sighing, she continues, “While on a recon mission earlier tonight in the Crimson Waste, Adora’s party was attacked. And while the other members were able to get out, Adora...”

Dead silence freezes the room. No one dares to breathe. 

Eyes darting around the room, Glimmer quickly finishes her thoughts in frantic speed. “She’s alive and a team of us managed to get her out.” 

The room exhales. For the most part. The steed certainly does not.

Netossa senses Scorpia and Bow’s quiet and heightened nervousness--something uncharacteristic for both. Even Perfuma, who rarely lets anything negative phase her, seems extremely worried. And of course, the biggest indication of something wrong being that Adora isn’t the only person missing from the room.

“And Catra?”

“With her right now,” the Queen says with unease. 

Netossa spares a glance at Spinnerella who meets her thoughts. The two have the same dreaded question and inklings of what hasn’t been said yet. “But?”

Glimmer sighs, “Adora’s suffered a lot of injuries.”

“But She-Ra can heal them, right?” Frosta asks tentatively.

The Queen’s not sure how to answer--not without mentioning the other injury. Or that She-Ra’s been unreliable since the Heart. Or that magic in general won’t heal her--in fact, the last time it seemed to hurt both of them more than help at all. She still needs to try to explain, though. 

How do I explain without breaking Adora’s trust?

“Adora’s exhausted right now--you all know that. She’s been spearheading the Rebellion for three years and she hasn’t had a break. And now, between reconstruction efforts, wrapping up loose ends and treaties with the War, and fighting post-war unrest in places--guys, she’s spread thin. So, for right now she’s out of commission until further notice,” Bow answers for her.

‘Thank you,’ she mouths back to him, grateful that he always knows what to say in tough situations.

Glimmer hasn’t told Adora that she’s out of commission yet, but Catra knows. Catra was the one who first suggested it--and suggested it heavily . 

But Bow’s response more or less seems to answer people’s questions on Adora. Glimmer can see Entrapta just itching to know more, but she’s grateful that Entrapta’s not acting on it right now. But maybe Entrapta could help… she knows more about science and magic than most… I’ll consult Adora later on the matter.  

When she pulls herself out of her thoughts and surveys the group again, there’s a shift in attitude. The Princesses have their own silent conversation that builds momentum and with unanimous intent. Resolute nods pass between them all and finally all eyes land back on Glimmer with fire and purpose. 

“So…” Mermista stands up with a determined smirk, “who are we fighting and what are we up against this time?”

Adora awakes in a numb haze. Her eyes aimlessly trail around the room, absorbing every detail and looking for abnormalities to prove that this is just a vision… or a twisted nightmare. It wouldn’t be the first time her mind or an environment ever deceived her grasp of reality. Her hands slightly roam around the covers. They feel real and solid on her palms. But something--someone--is out of place… isn’t Catra supposed to be in the spot next to her? Cuddling and holding tight? That’s how it usually is. Eyes flitting around again, Adora can’t find any telltale signs of her companion in the room.  

Where am I?

Bright Moon. In my room. In bed. Without Catra?

She could’ve sworn that something happened last night…  

Oh, right.  

Then how am I here?

Last she remembers she was blacking out after being attacked outside the bar in the desert. So how am I here? Is this whole setup an illusion? Some sick trick her mind is playing in order to distance herself from the reality of her situation? Is she even conscious right now? Can she trust anything her brain processes? Maybe the blow to the back of her head before passing out really did cause considerable brain damage.

Everything Adora tries to take in just seems so confusing. Every thought starts at full completion, but quickly fades into an abyss of nothingness the moment she tries to apply it. She can’t get herself to move more than fingers, which slowly curl with much mental effort. She feels her arms, but everything’s on delay. And trying to lift them shouldn’t be a daunting task, but they feel sluggish and heavy. And forget about moving her legs or attempting to sit up or even turn her head. Clear commands from her mind seem to not fully send. Or maybe they aren’t being received? Her consciousness is trapped in one square and the moment it tries to push further outside, it muddles itself. She doesn’t know why. Was it a blow to the head? Or maybe a vision? 

Her thoughts somewhat in reach, but she can’t catch and hold onto it for long.

She doesn’t know how she got here. If she got here at all. There is no way she’d willingly be here, in her room--her bed--without her partner by her side. No reality where she’d live without Catra. Not now. And never again.

And Catra’s not here . I don’t remember getting here, either.

This room has to be fabricated, it has to be unreal.

In reality, she thinks, she’s probably unconscious, being dragged through the sands of the Crimson Waste. Wouldn’t be the first time.

And quite honestly, she’d prefer to be awake in that reality than whatever is going on here. 

That is until she feels slender fingers rake through her hair, gently using claws to massage her scalp. It feels so nice . 

Maybe this is real then?  

Though if so, it still doesn’t account for everything being so delayed and muddled.

“Hey, Adora.”

It takes a moment to pinpoint where the voice came from, but the words are clear and immediate in mind. Adora struggles to angle her head up, but Catra’s frame slides into her view above. Another moment passes before Adora realizes that Catra moved her head into her lap and resumed running through her hair. She focuses on the sensation and a smile of relief easily drops onto her face. “Catra, I’m glad you’re okay,” she manages to slur out.

While Adora’s now all smiles, Catra’s face sours at the sound of her scratchy weak voice. “Are you kidding me? You were attacked and almost killed last night and you’re more worried about if I’m okay?”

Although she’s sad to see Catra frown, it seems that Adora’s mouth has a mind of its own. Or maybe she isn’t sad? It’s getting harder to clearly figure out what she’s thinking. 

And she hates it.

It is silly of Catra to worry about Adora dying, though. She’s right here. Silly.

“Catra, I’m not dead! I’m right here, silly,” she faintly giggles and relaxes her head, sinking into her partner’s lap.

A soft chuckle makes its way past Catra’s upset demeanour. She can’t deny how relieved she is to see Adora smiling, even if Adora, at the moment, is very out of it. “They must’ve given you some good stuff, huh?”

“You’re some good stuff,” Adora smirks with no shame.

A furious blush takes over Catra’s face. “I--Shut up!” She clears her throat. “Anyways, how are you feeling?”

“I feel just fuzzy… you know what else is fuzzy?”

“What?”

“You.”

Catra kisses the top of the blonde’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“If I’m an idiot, then you’re a cat,” Adora challenges.

The feline shakes her head with a grin, “You’re just digging yourself into a hole.”

“I’m not digging. I’m stuck.” Her eyes are big and round and display a child-like innocence. Although she’s on… something, Adora knows that Catra can read her--easier than an open book. 

Catra can still see all the gears turning inside even with medicine inhibiting Adora from completely voicing her thoughts and anxieties. And she realizes almost instantly that Adora does not really enjoy the effect the meds are having on her. In fact, Adora’s confusion and inability to really concentrate or do anything are making her anxious behind her scatterbrained comments.

If Catra recalls correctly, she’d only seen Adora like this once before. It was so brief, but she does remember seeing her--as Entrapta described--‘floppy.’ Much like her current state, except Catra infected her with that cursed First Ones’ disc, and when it was broken and Adora came-to, she looked so hurt by what Catra had done to her. She had also noted how distraught and fatigued Adora seemed; using Glimmer for support, she looked worse for wear.

Although she isn’t infected with murderous draining tech, Adora won’t like the comedown from this either. Or the unnumbed pain she’ll feel as the medicine wears off.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck right now. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“Keep doing the thing with my hair?” Adora murmurs, trying to curl into her partner more.

Noticing her try to move her legs in and turn onto her side, Catra briefly stops running her fingers through honey blonde strands to help Adora adjust, being mindful of the injuries on her right side. She resumes where she left off, but takes one hand and holds Adora’s. As her fingers get lost in the shortened locks, a question that has been nagging at her in the back of her mind all night becomes louder.

“Adora?” 

“Hmm?”

“Why is your hair shorter?”

Furrowing her brows, Adora tries to concentrate on Catra’s question. She remembers the moment so vividly, but it’s hard to describe in her current mental fog. “I didn’t want to cut off someone’s hand.”

“What?”

Adora tries to mime a finger gun, giving up after barely lifting her hand. “Pew-pew.” 

“Adora, what are you saying?”

“The guy really jumped the gun ,” she laughs dazedly at her poorly-timed joke.

“Was this during the attack?”

“He must’ve been--umph!” A palm cuts off Adora’s tired babbling. She begins to protest in muffled complaints.

Catra doesn’t even have time to roll her eyes as she pieces together Adora’s incoherent bits of context. “Did--did someone shoot you ?!”

“Shot me in the back--while I was She-Ra…” she says under Catra’s hand.

“ And you let him live ?!”

“Yeah. I didn’t really want a haircut, though,” Adora mumbles, avoiding eye contact by staring off into the room.

Taking a gathered breath, Catra pauses. Deep-seated fears take over her thoughts. The memories that constantly make her jump, the ones plaguing her sleep, now possibly alive and real again. She doesn’t want Adora to answer her question and possibly confirm her fears. She prays she’s wrong in her thinking.

“Did--did they try to chip you? Are they still chipping people? Is that how your hair got cut?”

Ears flicking, Catra holds her breath in the silence.

“No, no, chips,” Adora says as clear as she can, making direct eye contact and faintly smiling, knowing it’d somewhat relieve her companion and hopefully keep some worries at bay. A very light squeeze of the hand doesn’t go unnoticed to Catra.

“Oh thank the stars,” Catra fully exhales and her rigid posture relaxes. She squeezes back.

The girl below her continued gazing up with wide eyes. Dressings, bruises, and small cuts across her skin and peeking out from her tank become more defined in the natural light as the morning moon rises over Bright Moon’s rock formations and spills into their room. Light dusts her chopped hair, lustrously brushing warmth onto limp strands. Her gentle smile slowly fades as she lies there, staring up at her companion. Back to thinking , Catra supposes.

Adora blinks owlishly. She has a question on her mind, too. One she hasn’t asked, but one that has pondered in heavy moments alone with her lover. She never wanted to disturb the peace, so she never let the question ripple the calm darkness of nights where they held each other, clinging to safety. But it’s been on her mind and held on her tongue for weeks. Since her first encounter with Prime. Since she found and almost lost Catra. 

And although Adora wants to keep it to herself to not rock anything else in turbulent waters, apparently her disconnected state with the rest of her body enables her concerned question to slip through. Why did this conversation have to happen now?

“Is that why your hair got cut?” 

“Because I got chipped?”

“Yeah.” I’m such an idiot! Adora, why can’t you just have a filter this once? I hate these pain meds.

Catra’s anxious tail snaps at the memory. She hasn’t really explained much to anyone, not even the full series of events to Adora. In nightmares and occasional dives into memories among other things, Catra has remained vague in what exactly she experienced on that ship a couple months ago. Only Adora sees her distraught in the night. Only Adora holds her close, running soothing hands up and down her spine. Only Adora whose fingers intertwine and her legs tangle with Catra’s. Heads pressing together to shut out everything else. She’s the only person Catra lets in, but even then she doesn’t tell her much. Catra really doesn’t want to talk about it both for her sake and for Adora’s. Maybe today she’d let part of it out, though. Only for Adora, though. Maybe .

“In a sense, I guess, but…”

Adora waits for the response, making sure to keep contact with Catra to the best of her ability. Though Catra can see her struggling to hold onto the current moment.

Maybe not.

“Another time,” Catra whispers and kisses her hair again.

Her partner lets out a huff.

“We’ll swap our traumatic haircut stories later, okay?”

“Sounds great,” Adora drifts, trying to remain fixed on gold and blue eyes and push through her fatigue.

“You don’t need to stay awake--actually, you should be sleeping.”

“But there’s… something I need to do.”

“Yes, and that’s sleep.”

“No, no… something else, I think.” 

You’re so stubborn . “Not right now,” Catra scolds.

“But the Horde people…” She continues to fight against exhaustion.

“Sorry, you’re out of commission.”

“But Catraaa…”

“I don’t make the rules! I’m not allowed to work today either.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And if I’m not allowed to go to work after having one little injury , then you’re definitely not going to work, either.”

“Did Glimmer make that decision?”

Catra mutters with a sneer. “Yes, among other decisions she’s made, at least this one doesn’t put you in any more danger.”

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t matter right now. Now come on, you big baby.” Catra curls Adora into her frame. The two drift off--the blonde head in the cat’s lap. A tail curled around a limp porcelain wrist, pulse gently beating in slumber. 

“Dad! Aunt Casta! Find anything, yet?”

Micah jumps at the sudden appearance of his daughter and her boyfriend while Casta just chuckles and glances at her older brother from behind a scroll she’s reading. A few parchments flutter to the ground and dust scatters into the air. Neither the observatory nor the library attached had been used much in decades--if not centuries. The stars disappeared and so did the purpose of studying them and their roles in celestial magic. In his younger days, Micah enjoyed reading with Angella about the old histories of Etheria, of times before the First Ones, but he always thought they were just stories to pass down, nothing more. He eventually took the study next to the castle’s Library of Asterisms and Etherial Magic, but that, too, went out of use after Angella lost him. Standing in it, Glimmer realizes that the room has gone untouched until now.

Her dad sighs with a laugh, “I have to get used to you appearing out of nowhere and everywhere again.” He stares back at the remaining parchments in his hand before shaking his head and placing them down on the table next to him, littered writings and books. “As for your friend… Casta and I were able to give her some different medicines to manage her pain and injuries. Actually, the first dose will wear off soon--would you mind giving this to Adora when you go to check on her?” Opening his hand, a small vial filled with shining viscous liquid and a bottle rattling with capsules materialize and land in his palm. “Have her take the capsules before drinking the contents in the vial. Two capsules should numb the pain for half the day. In the vial is a sedative--it’ll likely make her tired, but it should relax muscles and keep her from trying to move too much while things try to heal. Other than this, we don’t have much to help otherwise at the moment.” Glimmer reaches out and accepts the bottles from Micah.

Casta rolls the scroll in her possession and regards Bow and Glimmer. “It’s been centuries since many of these texts have been touched, a lot has been forgotten--whole disciplines of magic, even. And while this library has plenty of information on Etheria’s more ancient history, astral magic, and other ancient forms from thousands of years ago, there’s very little--at least so far--on She-Ra. In fact, most of these texts describe how ancient sorcerers used stars with the moons both to channel lesser magic from Etheria and as power sources themselves! It’s truly fascinating and should be reintroduced into teachings in Mystacor--I’m sure the other members of the Sorcerer’s Guild would agree. Just imagine what wonders are--”

“That sounds great, Aunt Casta!” Glimmer, short on patience, cuts her off, “But just to be clear here--this library full of super old books and stuff has nothing on She-Ra’s magic?”

“Not from what we’ve seen so far, I’m afraid. I used a location spell to help sort through texts, but very few have She-Ra, and the ones that did were only brief mentions of her existence--nothing more.”

Peering down warmly at the young pair, Micah tries to reassure them. “We’ll keep looking. Hopefully tomorrow’s trip to your dads’ library will give us more answers.”

Bow nods in thought. “The Library is the largest collection of history and artifacts on Etheria--it has to have something that can help.” It’s been a while since he’s actually spent time in the Library helping out with research and organization, but he thinks he remembers enough of the system to know where different artifacts and texts are based on history. But then again… the Library was a mess weeks ago. It’ll take a while to organize and restore--if all of the artifacts can even be restored. The Library could’ve been ransacked! Lance is going to be really upset if the Colonia pitcher’s broken or missing… “Considering the size of the Library and the mess, it’ll probably take several visits to find something, though.”

The other members in the smaller library nod. Bright Moon’s royal libraries may have rare and ancient texts, especially writings that delve into magical disciplines and history, but they all pale in comparison to the behemoth that is the Library.

Glimmer steps forward. “Is there anything else we can do in the meantime? Given the situation, Bright Moon healers probably won’t be much help and I’ve already met with the rest of the Princess Alliance to let them know what happened, but beyond that we’ve kept things on the down-low. What are you guys’ opinions?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before--I’m not sure why the magic’s behaving the way it is… Micah, thoughts?”

“I’m not sure. Healing requires focus and energy, but it’s usually restorative instead of draining. You said Adora’s been tired recently?”

“Tired is an understatement,” the archer says, “she’s been stressed and over-exerting herself for the better part of a year.”

Although Bow’s comment isn’t pointed, Glimmer can’t help but shrink into herself a bit, knowing that part of the reason Adora ended up even more stressed was because of her.

“Well, I’m not sure how that affects She-Ra specifically or her interaction with healing magics, but magic or not, people have their limits. It could be like the last time she over-exhausted herself--you remember, Bow?”

“Wait, what do you mean the last time? When was this?” Glimmer asks. 

“It was… kinda when Horde Prime drove us out of Bright Moon and then out of our camp in the Whispering Woods. Adora led us to safety and then immediately passed out the moment she allowed herself to exhale,” Bow shrugs with a wince. His girlfriend nods, recollecting the conversations they’ve had throughout the weeks about Adora and all the happenings of the months before. 

“In that case, then, Adora needs a break--some time to rest and heal after everything she’s done to end the War after these years,” Casta pops back in, new enthusiasm in her aura. Why? Glimmer and Bow aren’t sure. What is there to be excited about in this conversation?  

“We’ve already decided that she’s out of commission, Aunt Casta. Giving her time to heal and rest is the most important thing.”

“Perfect! I’m already planning the socks I’m knitting for her--do you think Catra would also like a pair?”

“Aunt Casta, I don’t think Catra will--”

“Oh! And I’ll also knit them both sweaters--I’ll put together a big care package! And remember, you kids are welcome in Mystacor to get away from the hustle and bustle of the Etherian Union and the Princess Alliance anytime!”

Glimmer and Bow glance over to Micah, who just shrugs and laughs at his sister bombarding them with plans filled with excitement and care. Bow leans into his partner’s side as her knowing smirk grows on her face. “We should go check on Adora,” he whispers. 

Discreetly, Glimmer takes his hand and the two inch their way back from Casta, who’s still babbling, before they disappear from the room all together in a shimmering flash.

Adora forgot how much it sucks to breathe. 

At least with broken ribs.

“Hey, Catra,” Adora says groggily, burying her head into Catra’s lap. 

“Hey, dumbass,” Catra playfully retorts, “welcome back to the land of the living.”

Adora rolls her eyes, coming more to her senses. “I woke up earlier-- you were the one telling me to go back to sleep.”

“You actually remember that?”

“This mind is a vault .”

And Catra can’t deny that. She may tease Adora for being slow sometimes, but that girl has a knack for somehow remembering almost everything . “Good to know that painkillers and stuff don’t seem to affect your memory. Speaking of, how are you doing?”

“I can properly think again, so that’s a plus.”

“Oh really? I don’t see a difference.” She does.

Adora playfully smacks Catra’s leg with the back of her hand. “Shut up!” Catra just laughs. “I also don’t feel like I’m weighed down to the point of immobility, so I guess whatever I was given wore off.”

“Okay… Anything else?”

I feel so nauseous. 

And my head is pounding. 

Turning it hurts. The light hurts. Breathing hurts. So, so much. Everything is sore--like I just fell out of a skiff… but worse. 

But I’ve worked through injuries in the Horde and I can push through them now. 

No worries. “Nah, I just feel a bit gross.” Catra raises an eyebrow. And you can see right through me . “Just a bit achy--nothing a shower won’t fix.” Her partner still doesn’t seem convinced and under her annoyance, Adora knows how worried she is. 

But Adora’s worried, too. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Adora notices the dressing on the back of her partner’s neck. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

The blonde quirks her lips. “What about your neck?”

On reflex, Catra clamps her hand over the dressing, brushing her fingertips over the woven fabric of the patch. “It’s nothing,” she dismisses.

Bow didn’t send Adora much about Catra in his message--just that something happened out in the Whispering Woods and that when Adora got back she’d likely need her. But between Melog’s distress and Catra’s neck injury-- how did I not notice before? --Adora puts the pieces together. “Catra, what did you see out in the Woods?”

“Nothing important… just memories,” Catra sighs. 

Her head sinks. Adora takes in the woman above her. Brown locks fall, beginning to curl at the ends. Her hair is starting to grow out again. It’s only a subtle difference since the nightmare that was Catra’s time on the Velvet Glove, but it’s something. Catra didn’t seem to mind the chop as much after Adora complimented her that night on Darla after getting her chip removed, but Adora was and still is horrified at the thought of all that happened on Prime’s ship. Things she knows Catra won’t tell her. Horrors that haven’t been voiced. 

There’s a dullness to her expressions. Smiles soft, but not full. Eyes meaningful, but occasionally unfocused. Ears up, though they’re a bit slow to register. Her tail almost lifeless.

Catra looks so tired. 

You probably stayed up the whole night because of me. 

You end up staying up a lot. I know you still get nightmares even though you try to hide them from me. I wish you’d let me help more. But you also stay up a lot because of me. Me and my stupid injury. My stupid baggage.

… I have to be better for you. You won’t have as much to worry about if I shoulder my own problems better. If I’m less of a burden, then I’ll actually be worth--

“What’s going on in that big head of yours?” A slinking tail sweeps across Adora’s face,  interrupting her spiraling thoughts.

Blinking, Adora refocuses on the yellow and blue orbs above her, getting lost in the differently colored irises. In the past weeks since the Heart, she’s realized--with an annoying amount of nudging from Bow and Glimmer--how much and how long Catra and she have cared about each other, loved each other. Needed the other. She’s so grateful to have her again. How she managed almost three years without Catra? Beats her. Exhaling into a smile, Adora brings her hand up to Catra’s cheek. She pushes down a wince as she slightly lifts her arm. 

The medications definitely wore off--Adora senses feeling returning in a rush to her body. And with it, her pain receptors seem to turn back on, too. Every movement. Every breath. But it’s no bother. At least she doesn’t think it should be. 

She brushes a thumb over her partner’s soft cheek, reveling in the tender moment alone. “Just thinking about how much I love you.”

And it’s genuine.

Of course it’s genuine. You’re Adora--you can’t be anything but.

It still takes a moment for Catra to believe that she’s wanted and loved, especially by Adora--even though it’s so obvious how Adora feels nothing but pure love for her. Maybe that’s why Adora affirms it so much. Catra knows it clearly isn’t everything on Adora’s mind currently, as she saw her lost in some tumbling thought before pulling her out, but for now she won’t push. She just wants to enjoy the present. Adora is right here. She’s banged up, but she’s safe now. 

And you love me.  

“I love you, too,” Catra breathes, leaning into the touch. The blush that paints Adora’s cheeks makes Catra beam, momentarily forgetting time and the painful reminders of how they ended up here along with the various new threats their near future now holds. Adora, who’s been so focused and painstaking in rebuilding and peace efforts, also seems to forget for the moment, remaining mesmerized in everything that is Catra. After getting her back, Catra’s noticed early on how dull Adora’s eyes have become--a result of the increasing amount of weight she bore on her shoulders. Even in the past few weeks, Catra has seen less and less of her usual vibrancy--washing out as her stress increases. But right now, the crystalline blues of her irises remain trained on Catra and they’re filled with such clarity and love.

Their gazes dissolve, eyes closing like sighs of relief, but the moment only grows as Catra leans ever closer, first pressing a soft kiss onto Adora's forehead before moving down to meet her lips. Exhaling away her residual tension, Adora presses into the kiss. Her hand travels from Catra’s soft cheek and into her hair, fingers grasping and running through locks before finding a velvety ear. As Adora begins to rub and scratch with care, Catra releases a throaty moan, rumbling into a purr. Her tail rubs and wraps around Adora’s free arm.

Others in the Horde would grab at her ears and tail--when anyone ever tried to touch, they were clawed at. But never Adora. She was the exception--she still is. There was no one else she ever trusted. The two of them against the world. 

“I’ve missed you,” Catra whispers, slightly pulling away from Adora’s lips.

“Good thing I’m right here,” Adora breathes, kissing the tip of Catra’s nose before her lashes sweep up, her loving gaze back on her. “I’ve missed you, too… I’ve missed this.”

“What, kissing? I kissed you a few hours ago and we kissed a lot yesterday before I left, and pretty much everyday before that, too.” Adora smirks as Catra flusters, “I mean, I--I don’t mind doing it some more, or if there’s more you want to do... I dunno, whatever--”

The subtle rosy blush develops deeper as Adora’s eyebrows raise at the implication of Catra’s words and becomes more smitten. “I’ll do anything you want to do,” Adora lingers on the thought and her blush becomes less and less subtle. “But I can never get enough of this .” As if on cue, Catra moves back in and lets a kiss linger between their lips--Adora gladly holds onto it. Her voice becomes secretive and soft, only gentle, quiet, and thoughtful. Her words and world only for Catra and no one else. “What I’ve really missed is just the two of us.”

Running through the Fright Zone.

Covering for each other.

Stealing rations--only the gray kind.

Hiding in vents from punishment and lessons.

Finding beauty in scrap piles and rubble stashes.

Sitting together on the rooftops, yearning for the world beyond the smog, the hazy orange sky, strict rules, and the grimy machinery.

Holding each other under the dark humming of night.

Keeping the Promise.

Accidentally breaking it.

.

.

.

Making the Promise.

Mending.

“Nothing is going to tear us apart again,” Catra looks down into Adora’s eyes, sincere and unwavering, “I promise.”

Usually Adora’s the one making promises. “You promise?” she barely says above a whisper.

“I promise.”

“What did I ever do without you?”

“I could ask the same thing…” Moving her legs from under Adora’s head and replacing the spot under with her pillow, Catra shifts and crawls. She straddles Adora, but holds back from settling her weight on her lover’s waist. Adora just smiles, not indicating any discomfort or pain in Catra’s new position. “ …but how about we just make up for lost time?”

“Y’know we never would’ve been able to do any of this in the Horde.”

“More reason to do it now.”

Both girls lean into each other again, closing the short distance between their lips.

“AHHH!” Glimmer and Bow scream as they cover their eyes and whip away from the couple.

“What the fuck, Sparkles?! There are doors for a reason!” 

“Boundaries, guys! How many times do I have to explain them?!” Adora groans, annoyed at the interruption. She abruptly winces, sucking in a shaky breath at the sharp sensation traveling from her side to her chest. Catra gives her a worried glance and puts a hand on her shoulder. Take it easy.

“We thought both of you were asleep! Not--not this! ” Bow squeaks, voice cracking in embarrassment. His arm blindly motions at them, his frantic movements make the girls in the bed roll their eyes.

“You guys can turn around,” Adora calls out to the other pair. Glimmer slowly turns, moving a finger to peek through her hand over her eyes. Upon seeing Adora and Catra both fully clothed and only slightly disheveled, she tugs Bow’s arm. He peeks and turns, letting out a sigh of relief. Adora rolls her eyes. “It’s not like you walked in on us doing anything--”

“--Or each other.”

The blonde’s flushed face burns even redder. “Catra!”

“What? I’m not doing anything,” she smirks, reveling in how easily flustered she can make her companion.

“You’re insufferable.”

Their sparkling friend scoffs, interrupting the banter. “Ugh, get a room.”

“…You’re in our room, Sparkles.”

“Ah…” Touche. “But aren’t you both supposed to be resting instead of whatever this is?”

“We were ... making up for lost time,” Adora smiles at the thought of the previous intimate moment, beginning to prop herself up to reach into a kiss. Leaning down, Catra meets her lips and Adora hooks an arm around her neck, pulling in to deepen the connection. 

Bow coos at the sight while Glimmer groans. 

Catra flips both of them off as she laughs into the kiss. As Adora reaches her other arm around, a jolt of pain from her side causes her to sharply inhale again. 

“Adora?” Catra pulls back from the kiss in a panic, eyes frantically searching Adora’s face and frame for an indication of what’s wrong.

“It’s okay,” Adora grimaces, “my side’s just a little sore.” In a gesture to try and prove just how alright she is, Adora tries to sit up more, only for her entire right side to disagree. She unsuccessfully stifles a cry only for Catra to wince at the sound of it. The feline moves off her girlfriend’s hips and out of the bed to help guide her back down to her pillow, stroking her hair. 

“Stay still, okay?” 

Adora sighs and nods. Hovering over her side, Catra gingerly pushes up the edge of Adora’s shirt to expose the injuries. As she waves over Bow and Glimmer to look, she recoils and grits her teeth at the dark splotches of purple and blue pressing into Adora’s ribs and abdomen, seeping out from under her dressings and wraps. “Obviously you’re more than a bit sore.”

“What, don’t think I can take a hit?” Adora tries to dismiss, shallowly breathing and starting to try and sit up again.

Bow and Glimmer give each other the same look of concern and begin their silent conversation, looking up to Catra to include her in it. The feline isn’t fazed by the deflection--partially because she sees just how battered her companion is and Catra would always have the same reaction every time Adora asked about her wellbeing after taking a hard hit in training or after she’d come back from reporting to Shadow Weaver. She never wanted Adora to see her as weak or damaged from the abuses of the Horde. But Adora always knew. And she had her own traumas. The blonde internalized her feelings and hurt well--much better than Catra. Adora was always better at wearing a mask. She compartmentalized well. Too well. And--from Catra’s more recent observations--Adora is still just pushing things down, just like her. 

Repressing and suppressing until they reach their breaking points. 

It’s a place that Catra’s unfortunately eerily familiar with--every time reaching a lower point with Adora, then Shadow Weaver, and then Scorpia leaving. Double Trouble spelling it out for her in a stabbing betrayal. For a moment, just before a beam of green sent her to another living hell, she wished for a way out of her own. She didn’t care anymore. Her whole world shattered and she just lay in the shards, letting them slice and puncture her, bleeding out in numbness. But Adora came. And her promise to bring her home pulled her out of the pit. Adora helped her pick up the pieces.

Seeing Adora, actually seeing her, after three or so years both filled Catra with safety and fear. She didn’t know Adora still cared--she was too consumed in her own grief and anger and her caring for Adora to even realize. Adora was the same idiot. She still stuffed her face and talked while mouth was full of half-chewed food. Still forgot to take out her tight ponytail before bed. Still smug and strong and fiercely overprotective. The list goes on and on. Things that Catra easily remembers, things she’ll never forget in their old rhythm and routine in the Horde. But Adora also changed in ways Catra didn’t notice in their previous interactions while fighting. War wore her down. Greater expectations piling up, and Adora was underneath all of them. It’s been on Catra’s mind since her rescue. It resurfaced as the adrenaline and relief from freeing the Heart’s magic and killing Prime left Adora detached sitting on a patch of plush grass while Catra called her name, and renewed when Adora awoke screaming from a nightmare--something that almost never happened before. She’s fatigued and tired, but still trudging through and trying to act like everything is alright. Even now, after being attacked and hurt, she’s putting on her best face.

How long will Adora keep going on before she implodes?

Catra doesn’t know.

Just another thing the Horde did to us .

But Adora has also been in Bright Moon for a while. It’s not just the Horde to blame.

Catra sits at her side, trying to support her. “Adora, I know better than anyone that you can take a hit. Hell, you can take several beat downs, but they still cause damage.” 

The blonde remains quiet for a moment and takes in each of her friends’ worried faces. Glimmer and Bow have seen the brunt of her injuries over the past few years. And Catra before that--along with causing many of the newer ones. And all of them now. 

“Fine. I’ll take it easy today.” Although still in building pain, some of the tension leaves Adora’s frame as she stops trying to sit up by herself and instead lets herself sink back into Catra’s open arms with a sigh that turns into a grimace. 

Catra kisses the top of her head and habitually runs one hand through slightly sticky clumps of honey blonde hair. She tries not to take note of the dried blood matting the strands or whose blood it is or the grains of sand and dust building underneath her nails. The other hand interlaces with Adora’s. 

Glimmer and Bow exhale at the sight of Adora somewhat relaxing--it seems more natural with Catra than it ever has on her own or with either of them. It’s cute how the two mellow each other out--it’s something they keep pointing out to Catra, though the feline remains inflammatory and in some denial when Glimmer and Bow coo over her. Bow actually does start fawning over the moment when quiet purrs begin to softly rumble to comfort Adora, but Glimmer quickly moves on from cuteness and the ridiculous amount of displayed affection her friends keep showing to continue with her task--checking on Adora and figuring out what happened.

She clears her throat and all other heads turn to her. “I know you and Catra need to rest, Adora, but I do have a few things we need to go over.”

Catra glares at Glimmer and the ruler slightly falters-- is Catra mad that I’m doing this now? Or is it something else? Catra’s irritable, sure, but she’s been hostile since last night. Is she mad at me? Or just really stressed about Adora? She doesn’t know. She can’t read Catra like Adora.

But the blonde jumps in to answer the ruler before Catra can snap her request shut. “Right,” she becomes more alert and focused, “I’m assuming you want my field report.”

Adora knows there’s no need for formalities—as Glimmer has been more-or-less telling her for the past three years--there never has been in the Rebellion and there still isn’t now, but some habits still can’t be broken. “Yes. What happened? Do you remember? You really scared us last night.” If Adora’s “field report” can help Glimmer make sure her friend is okay— well, okay as she can be —then she won’t pester her over her rigid and militaristic ways.

“Well, the first few hours outside the target location went as planned. Huntara and I met at the rendezvous point and made our way discreetly into the back alley of the bar. Though quiet and remote, there was decent foot traffic and enough clutter outside that we were able to blend in. We mostly kept track of numbers going in and out of the location at first. But there was one person who caught our attention… the person looked out of place… I don’t—I don’t think they were from the Waste.” Adora pinches her brow in concentration, trying to piece together the most precise recall of events. “Huntara would know better than I would, though. And once he showed up, a small group came out of the bar—with purpose. They weren’t coming and going like other patrons.”

“And you think these people are Horde loyalists?” Glimmer asks, perching herself on the edge of the bed.

“Not think . I know they are. But… it was strange.”

“How so?”

“The traveler, the person out of place, began to speak with one of the group—presumably a ranking member considering that she confronted me after we were found out—but back to the point… he had an arm cannon from a bot.”

“So they’re finding weapons?”

“No—well I don’t know—at least for them, they had destroyed the bot during a raid and kept it. At one point this person was fighting against Prime, but then became a loyalist? I’m not sure. The person he was talking to greeted how Prime’s Horde would address each other, but the strange part was that any mention of Prime’s glory was left out—they consciously acknowledged his defeat and… lack of existence, but they are continuing the ideology? I think? It was a weird interaction and I’m not sure what to make of it…”

“That is… strange,” Catra voices after a silence, “especially for civilians with free wills.”

“What else did you pick up from the conversation?”

Adora’s face heats up. “Not much… we were… sort of interrupted. And then found out. And attacked.”

Glimmer pushes, “Were you at least able to determine a motive? Or a target?”

“Yeah. Me.”

The room falls quiet again. 

“I’m sorry—I thought I had everything under control and I—“

“Adora none of this was your fault. You have no reason to apologize, okay? We’re just glad we got you out in time.” Bow moves in for an embrace.

Catra stops, stuck on Adora’s report. There’s a lot she’s uneasy about. “Was there anyone else that could’ve known about the stakeout?” Although the questions are directed toward Adora, her gaze remains locked on the ruler at the end of the bed.

Picking up on the tense energy between the two, Adora regards Catra and Glimmer in an attempt to settle whatever non-verbal disagreement they’re having. She rubs her eyes and sighs, “No, not that I can think of.”

And that sets the feline off. Hackles raised and ears lowering, she sucks in a breath before seething, “ A word, your Highness .” Her partner tries to calm her down, worried about who she’s mad at, but Catra turns to Adora, letting her face soften and gently moving out of the bed. I’ll be right back , she mouths to her. “Sit with her?” she tells Bow, and hardens again as she approaches the door. Glimmer exits first and Catra behind her, shutting the door completely.

“What the hell is your problem?!” the Queen yells.

“What the hell is my problem?! What is wrong with you?! ” Catra snarls, “How dare you put Adora in danger and not even tell her?! Or me?!”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You seriously need me to tell you what you did?” she growls in a low voice, eyes reducing to slits.

Exasperated, Glimmer balls her fists and her face scrunches. “YES!”

The air got caught in her lungs. Struggling between a relieved sigh and a gasp in shock, Catra uttered, “Adora?” She rose to her feet and pushed off from the wall. Everything around her seemed to muddle out as she put her full attention on the unconscious girl swaddled in a dust-covered rag.

“Adora?” she called out, inching closer. A soft rumbling purr began in her chest to comfort herself and her partner. She couldn’t care less if people saw right now. She just needed Adora to be safe.

As she approached, fresh tears cut through the layer of dirt brushed on the blonde’s cheeks.

Blue irises flashed open in a gasping shock. They land in Catra’s direction, but not on her partner. She seemed to freeze though droplets streamed faster down the tear tracks on her face.

“Hey kid, are you with us?” the woman holding her asked in concern.

Catra slinked closer, cautious to startle Adora, but wanting to run to and never let go of her. She’s not sure what changed, but Adora’s focus sharply narrowed on Catra and their eyes met and Catra saw pure fear throughout her companion’s body.

The drop was without warning. She didn’t expect Adora to push her way out of the strong woman’s arms and collide with the floor in a panic. People around reached out in a rush, but all Catra could do was go rigid and her purr choked. 

The soldier was scratched not only from the ungentle terrain but slashed and bloodied from combat.

Once-tied hair now hacked and mangled short.

Her torn shirt and pants soaking up the blood seeping out

Discarded was the old cloak, stained red where it lay on Adora’s open and bleeding wounds.

She vaguely registered the others moving into action around her; Huntara leaning over Adora, something about contacting Glimmer’s aunt to heal, Bow opening the door to the Command Center--his original search for paper and pen long discarded with Catra’s need to distract herself from the situation, the Queen frantically yelling for her father, the group crowding around and abruptly dispersing at the harsh command of a reedy and gentle blonde.

Hearing the labored breathing of her lover and seeing her in shock drove Catra to move again, this time with no hesitancy. 

Making eye contact for the first time with the woman Adora described as a “stony tough rock of a woman,” Catra saw a built strong resolve crumble in worry and care for the blonde between them.

Catra just needed to reach her. 

“Hey, I’m here,” she said softly. 

It didn’t register. 

She came closer, crouching next to her. “Adora, it’s me… It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Adora’s gaze was still averted and blurred, but her face changed in slight recognition and her breaths became less erratic.

“You have to breathe, Adora,” Catra reached out and took Adora into her arms. And Adora finally exhaled.

Catra’s focus remained on Adora’s form going slack in her arms, her face buried into her neck, warm breaths forming a steady rhythm to the rate of Catra’s hand rubbing up and down Adora’s back. As the girl settled, though, she regained awareness of the rest of the world and took a moment to observe the hall.

Most of the returning party remained in the corridor, though what Catra did not notice until then was the extra person that returned with the group.

Their eyes make contact and she’s livid.

And suddenly things made sense. Glimmer’s inside source. But they absolutely couldn’t be trusted.

But before Catra could confront the two-faced faithless deceiver, Adora began to rustle in her hold and pushed off of the ground. Swaying on her feet, she sucked in a breath and held both of her sides, grimacing in pain.

“Adora, what are you doing?”

“I’m fine now--I’m sorry to scare you all like that,” she barely croaked. In a rush of stubborn adrenaline, the soldier begins hobbling to her room.

“What the fuck? Adora, no!”

“I’m fine to walk, really.”

Catra watched her try to grit through the pain, but sucking in a sharp pained breath, Adora stumbled and almost fell, only having the wall to hold herself up. Catra rushed to her side and wrapped her arm around to support. As the rush of adrenaline left the girl’s system, the pair only made it a few more painstaking steps when Catra could not bear to hear her companion’s pain and subseqeunt apology at each movement. So the feline called over the Archer and the Queen to take them the rest of the way to their room. The last person she looked back at before the shimmering flash and feeling of her stomach dropping was none other than Double Trouble, who met her with concerned and remorseful eyes.

“How did you think that letting them go around free and collecting intel for us was safe?! And then letting them into Bright Moon? You didn’t even tell me! And now Adora’s hurt! Just because you think they’re on our side doesn’t mean we can trust them.” Invading the lines of personal space, Catra gets face to face with the Queen and harshly bores her stare into intense mauve irises. “ You of all people should know that, Sparkles! After all, you and I are the only other people in this room that actually know how they escaped Bright Moon when you set off that superweapon.”

It seems to hit a nerve with Glimmer as her anger in her features melts into guilt. But then again, Catra wants Glimmer to know how much both of their previous decisions hurt, how dangerous the consequences can be for trusting someone who has hurt others on both sides. But when Glimmer looks back up again at her advisor Catra knows she went about this conversation wrong.

“Catra… I am so sorry for what I did. I was desperate and losing grip on everything, and even though we were enemies, I never should’ve did what I did to you. Using Double Trouble to manipulate you after seeing how much damage they did to the Alliance and the Rebellion… I…”

Right. She saw the aftermath. The brief moment where we both seemed to hit a low point. Catra softens a little, still uncomfortable with emotional admissions, “Well to be fair, I did exploit you guys and your insecurities first. It’s just--you should’ve told me about Double Trouble. They’re conniving and are in it for payment. We know this--you can’t trust them! How can you know that they’re not going to just fuck us over and work for the underground Prime loyalists--or whatever you call them?”

Glimmer puts her hand on the feline’s shoulder. “Catra, I’m not asking you to completely trust them. I’m asking you to trust me--please. I’m so so sorry for hiding this from you. You should’ve been the first person to know I was even thinking about hiring Double Trouble and I should’ve asked for your input. And I know you don’t see it yet, but I know they can help. Just please, trust me on this.”

This gives Catra pause. In no way does she trust Double Trouble, but Glimmer’s become one of her closest confidants and friends. Close enough that Glimmer trusts her to be her advisor-- even with everything I’ve done . She’ll definitely have to have Glimmer fill her in on Double Trouble’s activities, and she’d like to make sure all contingency plans, safety issues, and contracts will keep them in line, but, “Okay. I trust you.”

Catra readjusts her position on the bed before pulling Adora and her blanket closer toward her. Her tail protectively curls into Adora’s side, brushing against the skin on her arm. A natural purr rumbles, calmly replacing the quiet of the room. Blue-gray eyes continue to stare up, refusing to lose contact with Catra’s. She can’t guess everything that could possibly be trying to escape from the blonde’s overwhelmed mind, but she is sure of this: Adora wants to be in control. 

And she isn’t. 

Not over the Horde situation. Not over She-Ra. Not even over her own body or mind. Not right now, at least. 

It terrifies her. 

So she’s trying to fight for it.

But Catra knows Adora needs to sleep. She takes in every bit of those orbs, pale blue clouded with flecks of grey. A storm. 

Catra blinks slowly.

“You can let go, Adora.”

“What?” Her voice comes out so quietly.

“Let go--I’ve got you.”

Adora slightly nods and lets her gaze fall from Catra. Shifting, she looks out past her room. The soft glow of light from the last aureole moon outlines the arched entryway from the outside. Magic constantly buzzes and dances in the air, but she can’t decipher it today--it’s such a strange disconnect from the world. She’ll have to ask Catra what she was given that’s making her feel this way. Then she’ll never take it again. 

The only thing that keeps her tethered to Etheria is Catra, still holding Adora’s hand and running her fingers through her hair.

Adora lets go, knowing Catra will be right there when she wakes up again.

Chapter Text

“Let me come with you guys! I’m fine!”

“Yeah, no. You’re not even close to being back into fighting shape.”

“Glimmer, it’s a library. What am I going to fight? Books?”

“Tell that to the elemental that threw She-Ra onto the second floor last time.”

“Tch--It caught me by surprise! And I didn’t take that much damage--if anything, the bookcases did.”

“That’s because you were She-Ra--”

“Adora, you need to rest--”

“I took your advice and I did yesterday, Bow! Besides, I’m not on anything anymore.”

“Refusing to take any more medication after one day is not the same as recovering, Adora!” Glimmer groans, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Catra’s been watching the volley of arguments and justifications between Adora and Glimmer with the occasional comment from Bow to try and diffuse the growing heat in his two friends’ conversation since this morning’s second moonrise. Although she wants to take Adora’s side, especially because she’s still a little bit pissed with the Queen and would love to spite her at any opportunity, she knows that she can’t. Bow--and Glimmer--are right; Adora shouldn’t even be up right now, let alone be talking about going places. 

But even so, she knows how this conversation will end. 

Adora is stubborn beyond belief, Catra wants to keep Adora safe and in sight, Bow is too nice, and Glimmer only has so much patience--they’re all going to the library today--Adora included-- whether they like it or not.

It’ll probably be better to have Adora come with. Because if Sparkles or Arrow Boy really think that Adora will actually stay put to rest while none of us are around--they’re wrong. She’ll just get up and start trying to work or plan. Or worse--she sneaks off to go help rebuild or track down the bastards that attacked her.  

Usually ‘Adora’ and ‘sneak’ are two concepts that Catra rarely puts in the same sentence because Adora’s a fairly obvious person--to her at least. Most of the time. But when she has a clear goal in mind, she knows that girl will do anything to fulfill it.

So if Adora doesn’t want to be found?

Good luck finding her. 

Even if she’s injured and concussed.

It wasn’t like Adora disappeared much in the Fright Zone--that was more Catra’s M.O. Adora would always seek her out and quickly learned typical places to look for Catra. But there were rare unexpected occasions where Adora would hide away and Catra would have a hard time trying to find her again. One of those times being after she received quite a blow to the head from Lonnie in training. 

They stopped the sim when she couldn’t get back up right away. And when she finally did, she was ordered to stop by the medbay before afternoon formation and tasking assignments. But she didn’t report. Shadow Weaver immediately blamed Catra for Adora’s disappearance, telling her to drag Adora back before she found the girl herself--all while yelling a cacophony of assured threats and curses her way. Catra knew the witch would more than follow through, too.

She wasn’t able to find Adora for a while. But luckily neither did Shadow Weaver. At some hour in the early morning, Catra eventually spotted her tucked away in a vent just behind a grate. Her usually orderly hair was disheveled and her gangly limbs uncomfortably crossed to make herself smaller in the tight space. There was something so vulnerable about the moment that Catra usually didn’t see from Adora. Upon closer inspection, Catra also saw that her friend had fallen asleep.

“Oh, hey, Catra,” she sleepily whispered. “Guess you found me.”

“Adora, do you know what time it is?!”

The blonde squinted in the dark, mind still fatigued and sleep-addled. It didn’t take long for Catra to connect some dots.

“Crap, you’ve actually done it this time,” she muttered.

“Done what?”

“You’re brain damaged!”

Adora didn’t even rebut. “Oh. Yeah. Probably.”

“Geez, Adora! Why didn’t you report to the medbay?!”

She just shrugged in response.

Catra started to tug on her friend’s arm, grabbing a wrist and pulling her toward the exit of the vent. “Come on, we need to get back to the barracks. If we’re not there for accountability formation and PT, Shadow Weaver’s gonna--”

Something must’ve shot through the fog in Adora’s head because she suddenly gripped Catra’s arm to keep from being hauled out of the vent. “I’m so screwed.”

“Uh, yeah, we both are. C’mon, Adora, we need to get moving before she finds us out here.”

“No, no, Catra, you don’t understand. My scores dropped and--”

Catra at the time did not want to hear about Adora’s scores. All she ever heard about were Adora’s scores. “Boo-hoo, your scores dropped. Shadow Weaver’s not going to punish you for it. Now let’s go before she skins me for not bringing you back,” she snarled and tugged on Adora’s arm once more, this time letting her claws dig into her wrist.

“Catra! Stop, that hurts.”

“Then get moving! We’re making too much noise. She could show up at any minute.”

“I will! Can I just--can I have a minute?”

Catra stopped when she saw her friend almost on the verge of tears. “Seriously, why’re you… Adora?”

In silence, Catra slinked into the vent and placed the grate back on the opening from the inside. Clamping her hands on her head, Adora leaned forward and took measured breaths. Without looking, she jutted one hand out and Catra took it, sending a squeeze. She waited for Adora to reciprocate, unsure if a response would come. More breaths--carefully paced to force herself to think clearer and to keep the nausea at bay. Adora rubbed her temple in an effort to push out the pain in her head before taking out her hair tie and letting it fall to release some of the tension. 

Catra would never tell her, but she wished Adora let her hair down more.

Adora finally squeezed back.

“I just need to think.”

“About?” Catra prompted.

Adora huffed, “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

The smaller girl waited, her ears flicking in anxiousness between her friend and the vent opening.

“I wasn’t thinking earlier. I got hit on the head and that would’ve been fine if I got back up. But I didn’t.”

“Well, it’s not like you could’ve controlled that. Lonnie got in a clean hit from behind.”

Adora gave her a look. “I should’ve seen it coming.” Catra shook her head. “But the only thing I thought about was how mad Shadow Weaver would be about the drop in my scores because it was my fault the sim ended early, and when she received word that I had been to the medbay, the fact that I showed weakness in front of all of you. I thought that maybe if I just didn’t go to the medbay before afternoon formation, then there’d be less for her to be angry about because she wouldn’t know exactly how much I failed.”

“Yeah, she’ll be a little disappointed, but you’re still the overall top scorer in our squadron. And just in general.”

“She won’t just be disappointed in me, she’ll… you wouldn’t understand, Catra.”

Deciding not to engage further and argue with Adora, Catra let out a frustrated breath in resignation. “So you did what I usually do and hid?”

“Yeah. Except I couldn’t focus on where I was going or where I had been. And I guess I fell asleep at some point.”

“Well, you got whacked on the head, so…”

Catra could see the girl mentally beating herself up over feeling sick, especially because it was something she was fighting to control and couldn’t. Adora swallowed and shallowly exhaled, “Still, I didn’t plan on just falling asleep or feeling so nauseous.”

“Wait, so you didn’t mean to be gone this long?”

“No, I did… I think. I can’t remember much outside of wanting to not be found by Shadow Weaver. But I didn’t think… and now I’m dreading going back to the barracks. I’ve only made things worse for us. I’m such an idiot.”

Catra sighed and pulled her in, cuddling close in the tight vent. “You are an idiot, but how much worse can it get?”

They were only Junior Cadets at the time.

The decision’s final--in Catra’s head, at least--Adora’s going to the library with them. She’ll keep her from finding trouble.

I’ll just make sure she doesn’t do any lifting--because she’s hurt. Or reading. She’s too concussed to do that. Though she’s the only one who knows how to read that weird star language and chances are that if we’re looking for answers, they’ll be something only she can read. Typical Adora stuff, I guess… shit. I guess I’ll watch over her.

Well, she’ll keep Adora from finding as much trouble. 

Adora seems to find trouble a lot. 

And Catra would also like to stop finding trouble. Or at least not have it arrive right in front of her in an impulsive pink glittering flash. Even with Sparkles’ assurances, she cannot trust Double Trouble. They’re probably the one putting Adora in more danger. 

“Do I have to order you to stay put?!” Glimmer’s raised voice cuts off Catra’s wandering thoughts.

It takes the blonde back. The Queen sees the shock on Adora’s face transform into the familiar look of hurt that she’d seen her wear for much of the previous year when their friendship fractured.

Before Adora can hide it or argue back, or have Bow intervene, Glimmer jumps in with her temper dampened and past regrets clinging to her thoughts. She grabs her friend’s wrist. “Adora… I’m sorry--I didn’t mean the last thing I said. I do trust you. It’s just--I’m--we’re all just worried about you, and I know that it’s just a trip over to Bow’s dads’, but the underground Horde issue is a lot larger than we thought, and you’re still hurt and none of us know why or how and I don’t know who could be involved with the Horde or what their end goal is and I mean they just tried to take you two days ago and they probably would’ve killed you at some point if we didn’t get you out in time and I--”

Adora listens to her friend’s honest concern and puts a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder, steadying her. “Hey, hey, look at me. I’m not gone. I’m right here. And we’ll figure out all this crazy stuff together , okay? Don’t worry about me--I can handle a trip to the library.”

Bow shoots a quick glance Catra’s way. Her mouth twists at the thought of the inevitable situation, but nods. Releasing a held breath, the archer looks again at the two other young women in the room with wary resolve. Tension remains in his frame as he remains quiet. Catra doesn’t expect that. Maybe I misread you, Arrowboy. You’re not just nice.

“I just want you to be safe.”

She gives her a weak smile. “I know, but I need to go, Glimmer. If we’re looking up cures and more information on She-Ra, chances are there will be something in First Ones’ language.”

“Are you sure? You’re still pretty concussed.” 

“I’ll be careful, okay?”

Glimmer sighs and pulls Adora into a fragile hug, careful to not make any injuries worse. “Okay, but if you start feeling worse, take a break. Or let me know so I can teleport you back here. Don’t push yourself . Got it?”

“Got it!”Adora responds a little too quickly.

“Best Friends Squad hug?” Bow chimes, already closing in on the embrace as he gently pulls Catra’s wrist.

“Really?” Catra frowns and moodily cocks her hip.

“Just shut up and join the hug Catra,” Glimmer smirks.

Catra rolls her eyes and scoffs--mostly to keep up her nonchalant exterior--but she readily joins the hug when Adora yanks her in by the other arm.

Adora knows how dangerous it is to go searching for answers right now. The castle and the Princess Alliance are on high alert--word has gone throughout Bright Moon in less than a day that Adora is “on leave” and most of the staff, army, and general castle-dwellers know something’s not quite right. And as confidential as she tries to keep her piling issues, there always seems to be someone who finds out right when she does. Word will spread no matter what she does. It doesn’t sit right with her. The mighty She-Ra, taking a break and reduced to small mundane tasks when she still has so much to give. There’s so much that needs to be rebuilt, repaired, so much she still needs to do to redeem herself, so much she can--Adora stumbles in her stride.

Catra steadies her by the shoulder.

Adora grunts and starts down the hall again. Catra’s been holding onto Adora ever since she found her in the War Room bickering with Glimmer and Bow and not next to her in bed when she woke up this morning. Neither woman asked for the extra support, but secretly, Adora’s grateful to have Catra walking with her right now. Sure, Adora can walk on her own and did so an hour ago, but the shallow slash on her thigh still stings as muscles move underneath and a few damaged ribs certainly make it less than easy to roam around. Not to mention the gash on her side.

She loathes the idea of looking in a mirror right now.

“Y’know,” Catra muses, eyes drifting up to Adora’s hair as she walks, “we can definitely fix your hair after you shower.”

A smile questions its way onto Adora’s lips. It’s self conscious and unsure, but she tries for a lighthearted comment. “It’s really that bad, huh?”

Catra’s eyes go wide. “Oh! No! No… no. I just meant that we can even it out and stuff--y’know make you feel more yourself… like you helped me do after the--um--on Darla.”

With clarity, Adora looks into Catra’s eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” she softly beams.

The shorter woman blushes and a fang pokes out from her upper lip as she smiles. In return, Adora smiles brighter and Catra absorbs her all in. 

“Good,” Catra’s smile turns into a grin. She musses up Adora’s hair, temporarily blinding the girl. “Because you look like hell.” 

“Catra!” Adora still smiles.

“I might even keep you from having that dumb hair poof!” With her squeaky laugh, she flicks Adora’s forehead. As they near the door to their room, Adora and she continue to giggle, though Catra doesn’t push too far in fear of hurting Adora’s ribs. Her ear quirks up when she hears heavy strong footsteps approaching from behind.

“Glad to see you back on your feet, kid.”

The pair turn around and meet Huntara’s warm greeting. Her hands rest on her hips and she smiles broadly at the sight of Adora up and about. She also gives a nod to Catra, though the younger woman can’t tell what for. Looking back to Adora, both see how she nods to Huntara with a weak smile and looks back to the door of her room. Huntara manages to catch Catra’s eyes again as she flashes another look--one that says… Catra decides to stop questioning and just talk to the intimidating buff lady that Adora seems to admire so much.

“Think you can manage for a few minutes without clinging to me?” Catra jerks her head over to Huntara and gestures to Adora the door. Relief floods her eyes as she moves toward the room.

“You’re one to talk about clinginess,” Adora snorts, regaining her flirtatious fire. Cracking the door open, Adora slides inside before peeking her head out.

“Someone’s gotta keep you from being an idiot all the time.”

“Sounds like you like me or something.”

“Shut up!” Catra blushes, stealing a self-conscious look back to the other person in the hall. Timidly, she steps forward into Adora’s space in the door crack, pressing her forehead against Adora's. “Run the water, okay? I’ll join you in a minute,” she says gently.

The blonde’s forehead rubs against her partner’s when she nods. She breathes out a quiet ‘thank you’ to Catra and the feline responds by giving a quick kiss on her partner’s lips. Adora squeaks, unraveling into a blushing idiot. My blushing idiot . Catra closes the door with a smile.

Huntara smirks from her spot down the hall. 

“So, this is the ex-leader of the Horde, huh?”

“The ex-LEADER OF THE HORDE?!”

“Dad, you were completely fine with it before!”

Lance hides behind George’s shoulder--much like how Catra’s mirrored behind Adora’s shoulder and holding onto the blonde for comfort.

“No, but that’s the ex-leader of the Horde!”

“Well technically I was only second-in-command, but whatever I guess,” Catra mutters and shrugs to no one in particular for the second time that day. Going into the recovery efforts and joining Adora in Bright Moon, she’s known that not everyone forgives easily and doesn’t expect them to, but by doing damage control in the Fright Zone, somewhere where she’s more familiar, somewhere in her element, and as terrible as it was--as she was--it’s still the only place she feels truly accepted, Catra’s forgotten up to this point that there’s a whole planet of people. People who are at varying levels angry with her and the Horde--a lot of it directly at her. 

She averts eye contact and keeps her head down from anyone in the group, trying to hide or disappear or melt into Adora’s side. Maybe I can if I press against her hard enough, I will. A calloused hand places itself over Catra’s and squeezes. It then reaches back to her cheek and its thumb rubs as if to say, you’re safe. I’ll protect you.

Bow shakes his head and palms his face. Apparently everyone wants to test his seemingly endless patience today. “George, you’ll back me up on this, right? I did say that Catra was coming today to help with cleaning, right?”

George steps forward to try and make the conversation more private. “Yes, but still we didn’t realize that this Catra was coming,” he gestures toward the girl and she shrinks at the ongoing conversation around her.

“What other Catra would there be?!” Bow throws his arms up and turns, opening the exchange to the whole group behind him.

Lance emerges again with delight on his face, seeming to forget his dilemma over the person in question. “Adora's ex! The one you wrote about in your letters!”

“You what?--”

“ That's the same Catra! ” Pushing past Glimmer and Micah in front, Bow stands to the side of the couple and animatedly gestures at them, throwing his energy between the two pairs of people in hopes that the dads put the pieces together. 

Adora flusters and freezes at being the subject of attention. Her previous comments about Bow’s letters fall silent as her face grows redder by the second. Catra, on the other hand, is still leaning into Adora’s touch and now smirking at the blonde’s embarrassment. Amused, of course--she wants to see where this is going. And read those letters.

It’s a pretty clear display. Like extremely obvious . So obvious in Bow’s mind that he's sure everyone else can figure them out at first glance and certainly cannot be more blind and oblivious to their feelings than the two idiots standing before him.

George squints at the couple and Lance adjusts his glasses before scrutinizing the pair. “So the ex and the Force Captain are the same person ?” George starts slowly.

Bow huffs, “Yes, I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been!”

“But they don’t look like exes to me.” Lance points, tracing his finger around the connected pair.

“That’s because we never were!” Adora blurts, still red in the face and slightly annoyed at Bow--but mostly embarrassed. She hears Glimmer snicker in front of her and Catra giggling from behind. 

“How interesting…” George’s face remains neutral as he approaches Catra and Adora, and the latter matches his stony expression and acting as a buffer between, but a warm smile spreads through the initial coldness when he reaches forward and hugs both women. “Adora, you never needed to be shy about your girlfriend! You’re family to us so she is, too. Welcome, Catra. Come inside for some tea.” He puts them down and waves them in, taking his husband’s arm as they enter back into the large cottage.

The rest of the group stands outside the door, stunned. Adora holds her ribs and wheezes from the tight hug. “Bow… wha… what?” she staggers out in equal pain and disbelief.

Unable to contain her quiet observation any longer, the pink-haired ruler finally releases her deep laughter. “Bow, what did you write to your dads?! I know you lied about me and Adora at first, but I didn’t realize that you also talked so much about Catra while at boarding school! What major was Adora’s ex , huh?” 

“First of all, I had them still dating when I introduced Adora in those letters since she--”

“WE WERE NEVER DATING THEN!” Adora stomps and then regrets it.

Circling her arms around Adora’s waist, Catra hugs the girl from behind and rests her jaw on her shoulder to ground her. Her tail snaps in interest at the little snippet of history she seemed to miss out on before joining the Best Friends Squad. “What major was I, Bow? I need to read these letters you wrote--they sound juicy,” she smirks.

Glimmer wipes tears from her eyes and bends over to catch her breath, still laughing at Bow’s dilemma. “I can’t believe you wrote about Catra and Adora in your letters--how much of it was true and how much of it was just what you wanted to happen between them?”

“Well a lot of it was speculation--”

“You wrote yearning tales of their romance ?!” Glimmer howls in laughter as Catra joins in making fun of Bow and Adora even snorts at the notion. “Ahh! This is too. Good. I’m going inside to have some tea. Come on, Adora!” Glimmer wiggles her brows and scrunches her nose at the implications and runs in, dragging the poor blonde in with her.

“Kids,” Micah sighs, remaining quiet in his observation, and shakes his head with a smile as he enters the Library.

Bow’s eyes remain wide and slightly panicked as he looks at the open entrance of his childhood home. Its aura remains inviting and light, even with wear and tear from the War. Back to glancing at Catra, Bow opens his mouth to only shut it again. It opens once more as he looks down at his hands and up to Catra again. She takes a step forward and it all comes out.

“Catra I am so so sorry I swear I thought my dads knew about you--well they knew about you but your history--but they also knew about that from later messages and letters I sent them, too, but I swear I thought that they knew you were the same Catra from the boarding school lie--which you don’t even know about and I’m just really sorry for all this,” he blurts, tumbling over his own words and thoughts as they burst out in speed from his thoughts.

Catra slaps him on the back and puts her hand on his shoulder as she strolls them toward the entrance. “I don’t know what the hell just happened, but it’s all good,” she chuckles. “Maybe just don’t lead in saying I’m the ex-leader of the Horde to your dads next time. Obviously being Adora’s partner and your friend wins out over being second-in-command .”

Bow tries to smile, but falters some and she cuts him off before he can even apologize. Apparently no one has a sense of humor around here. “Save it, Arrow Boy. I appreciate you trying to make peace and love everywhere you go, but like you said, I lead the Horde, even if it technically was Hordak in charge. It was me who made calls to hurt Ador--uh--um people. It doesn’t matter why I did it or that I even joined you guys to help. They are going to be upset. And… they have a right to be. I mean, you were upset, right?” He reluctantly shrugs, looking away. Catra sighs, “But I’m making it up to you. And I have to confront what I did. I’m not redeemed in everyone’s eyes--maybe your dads are forgiving, but that’s not everyone. It’s not going to be easy to deal with that, but I have to. I want to be better… I--” 

Her voice breaks and Bow hugs her tight. A tear drops onto her cheek and patters down, landing on her friend’s shoulder and seeping into the knit strands of his cropped sweater. She clings on for a moment to return the embrace, letting Bow know that she does appreciate it, before pushing herself back and frantically rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Sorry. It’s whatever. Not a big deal--just another thing I’m working on I guess,” she inhales, trying to hide a sniffle. Looking back at Bow, Catra’s met with a man--eyes large and streaming--happily crying at her cuteness.

If we stay here any longer, he’s going to bawl me to death on how cute I am when I’m emotional.

She doesn’t want a repeat of Krytis. Or generally handle any more emotional breakthroughs where the man turns it into a lovefest. Not today. Rolling her eyes, Catra flicks between his brows and pulls on his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” Bow frowns and rubs the spot attacked.

“I’ve still got a reputation to uphold. I might be trying to be good, but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice .” She crosses her arms and smirks as Bow lets out a dismayed sigh. “Now come on, Captain Crop Top, we’re supposed to be cleaning your house.” 

Bow begins to move as Catra turns away and up toward the steps of the library he called home as a small child. Battered stone and gem greets them, but as the morning moonlight warms the sky, Bow sees how much life has been breathed into his surroundings. Scratched crystal glistens. Leaves hum. Cracked windows sing as air washes over them. And the trees, winding roots and branches, support the building with newfound strength and vibrance. A trove of stories, stories of Etheria, of the universe yet to be explored. The Library sits, brand new and ancient, waiting to be rediscovered by curious eyes. Both something old and something new. 

Catra’s stopped in front of the open doors. “Woah.”

The archer notices her tail flicking in nervousness and curiosity. He comes to her side and leads her in. “Welcome to the Library.”

By the fire, Adora’s sitting between an open spot and a flustered Glimmer, face red and fuming. The three dads in the room munch on petite cakes and talk animatedly. As if all dads know how to embarrass their kids, Micah offers up images and moments of a small pink sparkly floof painting with her hands on the walls of Castle Brightmoon--much to the Queen’s dismay. 

“And this is the resulting bubble bath. Angie wasn’t too amused to find the walls and mosaics covered in glitter,” Micah laughs, scrying the next image in the air. Angella’s eyes scowled at Micah as she washed purple glitter off the toddler, but the hint of a fond smile below betrayed her displayed annoyance. “...but she never really was mad.”

“I think you and I have different recollections on that day, Dad,” Glimmer chortles after taking a bite of cake. “Because I remember her fussing about glitter remaining stuck in the cracks of the wall for years after.”

“I’m sure she did…” Micah sighs and silence settles in the room. 

Adora abandons her teacup and resorts to playing with her fingers. She’s saved from her unresolved feelings when Catra jumps over the back of the couch and plops down next to her. Bow perches himself on the couch’s arm near his girlfriend.

“So what’s it like dating royalty?” Lance interrupts the moment. 

Bow’s head swivels. “How did you know? I didn’t tell you.” 

Nothing had been said to his dads. Yet.

“Oh, so you are dating-- didn’t tell us .” Ouch . 

“For the record, I already knew,” Micah chimes. His daughter flusters.

Bow groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why didn’t you tell us? I would’ve loved to hear about this and you could’ve sent a message and we would’ve--”

“I wanted to tell you in-person,” Bow sighs, “but you beat me to it.”

George and Lance look at each other wide-eyed before turning back to their youngest. “Oh! Oh no! Just pretend I never said anything--you go ahead.”

“It’s fine, Dad.”

“No it’s not--This is a big moment for you!” He waves his hand in his husband’s direction. “George, go get the camera, this is important!”

Micah brightens. “What a great idea! Then we can hold onto the memory forever.” He joins Lance on his side of the room and shoots a smile and an eager thumbs up to his daughter.

“This is not how I imagined this conversation,” their son grumbles and holds his face with his hands. 

Glimmer laughs and pulls a hand away from his face. He turns to meet her eyes and gives her a reassuring smile. When George announces his return-- camera in tow --Bow finally looks back to the squad of dads… and also a snickering Catra and an Adora staring intently while plowing through a handful of biscuits. 

It appears everyone has moved to watch. 

Great. I won’t live this down.

“Dads--and Adora and Catra and King Micah I guess--”

“Micah’s just fine.”

 The archer nods. “I have some important news to share…”

Why is this more daunting now than before when I thought they didn’t know? Bow swallows his hesitation and continues.

“I found someone who is my person and I love her,” his face softens, looking back to his other, “and I want you to meet her.”

Glimmer gives a small wave to the other side of the room. It does feel a little stupid to be introduced to people she already knows, but the amount of love and intent behind her boyfriend’s words has her glowing.

George stands, placing the camera down, face stern. And then he melts into tears. “We’re so proud of you, Bow.” Lance puts a supportive arm around him and also begins to cry. The sleeves of his cardigan darken in splotches as he expresses love and happiness for his son and his partner.

“Aw, c’mon Dads, you’re going to make me cry,” their boy sniffles.

Micah pulls Glimmer and Bow into an embrace and Lance and George join with open arms. A muffled “Best Dad’s Squad hug” is uttered among wet laughs and happy tears. 

“Does this happen a lot here?” Catra points to the scene in front of her, clinging onto Adora’s side lightly.

The blonde’s face goes soft. “What, the hugging or the public crying?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this is only my second time here and this happened last time, so I’m going to say… yes?” It’s a lot of emotions at once still for Adora, too. 

Everyone sits again on their couches. Some fathers wipe their eyes. The group settles into the normalcy of sharing life updates--and the occasional letter excerpt much to Bow’s chagrin--with each other over tea and snacks. It’s not until the fire dwindles and the tea is long past cold that George brings everyone’s focus back to the main issue at hand.

“As nice as this break has been, we do need the extra hands to help clean up and restore what we can of this Library. Adora--”

And now all eyes are on her. It’s only so long until the questions and scrutiny are bound to start. Can’t avoid it forever, I guess. The girl shudders.

“--Bow told us that you all want to research more on She-Ra and her abilities?”

Oh. I was not expecting that. “…Yes, if that’s alright? The um… the magic at the Heart was kind of a lot for She-Ra and I realized that I still don’t know her full powers or limits after 3 years of being …her.” 

Lance jumps from his seat. “Of course! It’s always wonderful to support a fellow academic--especially one that wants to dabble into history--”

 “--Though you’ll have to pardon the state of our collections right now. As we continue to restore things it’ll become clearer what we have. A good portion is in First One’s language, though, so we might’ve translated wrong in the first place.” George purses his lips at the admission and looks down at his tattoo. “Shall we get to it, then?”

The day's work is fulfilling. Though she’d feel more fulfilled actually moving things around and lifting heavy pieces of rubble. But she can’t do that right now. Helping sort would have to do. Even if it is giving her a small headache. Afterall, Adora is the only person here able to read her dead language. Catra lingers in her vicinity, splitting her attention between Adora’s well-being and helping out by climbing hard-to-reach places. Micah sits with Adora and scans through old texts from Mystacor. He makes sure to keep her water filled--somehow she never notices when he gets more and only sees it when she grabs her cup. She hates it. She hates that she can’t even get water for herself because someone is hovering.

“I’m not helpless,” she grumbles as she catches Micah sitting down. Finally.

He places her fourth glass of water down on the table and slides it to her. “I know you’re not--”

“Then--”

“Uh-uh.” He gives her a knowing look. “I used to be a lot like you when I was younger. And maybe still a bit now.”

Adora starts to open her mouth. Micah shakes his head and nudges the glass again.

“Drink your water--your head must be killing you right now.”

“It’s really not that--”

“Shhhh. Drink,” he laughs a little at the younger person’s stubbornness. She eventually picks up the cup and begins to sip quietly. “I know you’re not helpless. Quite the opposite, in fact. I admire your determination and resourcefulness in compromising situations and have seen you use it time and time again. Hell, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

The girl puts down the cup and starts playing with her fingers. “But no one thinks I can do that right now. Just because She-Ra’s out of commission doesn’t mean I’m useless. I can compensate for her, just like last--”

“But you can’t.”

Adora’s resolve shrivels. Her eyes travel across the room to her friends. When their skills were out of commission, they were able to pull their weight. Glimmer still helped in space without her magic. When Bow’s out of arrows he still makes up for it in fights. And who knows how many times Catra’s been knocked down or put at a disadvantage--she still fights. Maybe it’s just me.

“Hey kiddo? Come back to me.” The blonde meets his eyes again. She looks so lost . “You shouldn’t have to compensate when you’re down. I know you’d do anything to fix something and your friends know that, too. They’re okay right now.” Blue irises fall. Shoot. “Look, you’re still here helping by translating things that no one else on this planet can. And you’re concussed. Let me do one small thing for you by letting you sit while I grab water for the both of us. It really isn’t a bother.”

Adora nods and gives a small smile, still not looking back at the sorcerer. Picking up a discarded scroll, she starts reading again. No one else on this planet can do this. Maybe she can still be of use.

Chapter Text

Three figures trek across the swirling burnt expanse of the dunes. The air is thick and suffocating. Sparse rain patters, hitting their skin like cold pinpricks. Reds and grays blend in with the terrain. Their fourth party member left a short while ago--needed to find himself. They aren’t sure what this means, but they continue on through the Waste. It hasn’t been bad and the contracts they find aren’t either. 

With the Horde Prime green-eyed possession crap over they can mostly forget about their past lives and start anew. Old wanted posters remain up and individuals approach them, thinking that their little group can track down people for a split in the reward--they decline. Always. Sometimes it’s polite and the parties go their separate ways. Sometimes things get a little messy. How much does it cost to take a simple no? With this recent man apparently it’s three severed fingers and a bruised ego.

One night they’re in a bar brawl over turf, the next they’re camping under the stars while delivering cargo. The life of freelancing gives them the ability to choose who they want to be and what they want to do. It’s been good to them. 

After months of this life--and an incident they witnessed from the window of a small bar--they’ve got a new destination in mind and a target to reach.

The next council meeting sucks. To put it lightly. Adora’s back in her usual spot, but nothing about this meeting has been usual. The first tip upon entering the war room was Swift Wind nervously standing near her chair. He didn’t complain about not having his own at the table. The second thing off was the Princesses already being there seated, dead silent. And staring at Adora. No one wanted to break the silence until Frosta very quietly told Adora that her new hair is “kick-ass” and “metal” because she “cut it off with her sword.” Wise words from the 14-year-old. At least Frosta’s being normal .

The last thing very off is happening before her eyes. The Alliance fighting is normal-- too normal , but they’re all yelling about her. More specifically She-Ra. Okay maybe it’s not weird. It felt like every other meeting during the war had at least one interlude where people would fight about how to use She-Ra.

It’s just weird considering she was told four days ago that she’s out of commission. Maybe they didn’t get the memo?

“Adora’s back at the table, so it’s business as usual, right?”

She hears Glimmer sigh tiredly, “No--She-Ra’s out of commission. We already had this discu--”

“If She-Ra’s gone again --does that mean Adora is out, too?”

No, they got a memo.

It’s hard to follow the flow of the conversation with everyone out of their chairs volleying their thoughts and complaints in the direction of the Queen. 

“We don’t know how this will affect the planet’s restored magic!”

“Before putting her out of commission we should at least try to see what happens when she transforms. Maybe she’ll heal faster and then--”

Palms slam on the stone table.

“Enough.”

Everyone’s eyes go back to the blonde. Adora looks at the chair knocked to the floor and then focuses on the hands that pushed her up and out of the chair.

Glimmer, still seated, reaches toward her friend.

“If people are so concerned about needing She-Ra, then fine, I’ll bring her out.”

“You don’t have to--”

“It was fine last week. I need to at least try, Glimmer.”

“But it wasn’t .”

“ It’s fine .”

The Queen turns to Catra, searching for some last-minute desperate intervention as Adora reaches her arm out. Her advisor moves her glared focus on the Princesses around the table to her. The taut expression cracks with a bleak sigh as golden light fills the room.

Someone gasps.

Standing before them is--

A gasp again.

Palms hit cold stone again. Hard. 

Unprepared, someone scrambles toward the dimming light.

On the floor there’s a soft thud as two bodies land.

.

.

.

Adora--not She-Ra--sits crumpled in Bow’s frame. Her breaths are ragged and labored, and it takes her a minute to shake herself. 

“Bow,” she groans, “did it work?”

He tries for a smile.

Something runs along her arm. “ …Catra? What did I--”

“Good morning to you, too dumbass.” Her quip is strained.

She blinks a few more times before things click. “How long?”

Her partner’s hand moves from stroking her arm to her hair. “Only a few seconds--still scary as fuck, though.”

“Did you see She-Ra at all? ”

“We saw something--She’s not gone I don’t think,” Bow says right above her.

Gathering her bearings, the soldier pushes herself upright. The brightness of the room and the rushing, ringing, pulsing in her head and into her ears causes her to wince. Her stomach lurches as she turns her head to look at Swift Wind. Before the ‘I’m fine’ can come out of her lips to weakly cover for her, her steed shakes his head, pained for her. 

Sacred bond. Right. I guess She-Ra’s still able to do that then. That’s good. 

She hasn’t felt this drained in a while. 

This is just a temporary block.

“...Why can’t you transform?”

Oh right. The rest of the room. 

She guides herself--turning her chair upright after waving away Bow and Catra--and sits again, trying to massage her temples to keep the inevitable headache away as chatter picks up again. Air forces its way into and out of her chest cavity as she tries to dissipate her pressuring exasperation at a measured and full rhythm.

“Well, that’s okay, we don’t need She-Ra to help with--”

“I KNOW I’m useless--stop wasting your energy on it!” she snaps. The chair topples for the second time as she storms out.

---

Her partner begins to follow, but a wing juts out, stopping her.

“I’ve got it--I think you are more needed here than I am anyway,” Swift Wind says. He sees the way the girl’s ear twitches and her tail thrashes, like it’s absorbing her anger and the only thing keeping her from biting his head off. 

She takes a second before deeply sighing, “I’m trusting you, bird-horse,” and turns back to her seat with a scowl.

Flourishing his wings, Swift Wind exits through the open window.

“…Well that was a lot. ”

Catra leers at the water princess picking her nails on the other side of the table. She then addresses the table. “You guys are the fucking worst.”

Mermista’s head whirrs around, braid flicking behind. “What is your problem?!”

“What’s your problem?!”

Perfuma tries to speak up. “Mermista, Catra, maybe you should take some calming breaths to recenter--” her fellow princess glares. 

Catra takes a deep breath and readopts a frown. “Happy?” The stalky freckled blonde, missing Catra’s biting tone, gives a thumbs up and a small smile. The mermaid scoffs. Others shift in their seats unsure of how to continue. “As I was saying, you all suck.”

“That’s rich coming from the Horde scum,” Mermista mutters.

“Catra, maybe rephrase again so that we can get this meeting back on track?” Glimmer tries. “And Mermista if we can save the comments--”

The princess of Salineas speaks up. “Why should I? What is she even doing here at this table? She destroyed my kingdom, terrorized and attacked others, and now she’s here because she’s She-Ra’s girlfriend and we’re all supposed to suddenly trust her when she’s talking down to us? Seriously, how do none of you have a problem with her?”

“Look, we’re all still adjusting and--”

“--it’s fine, Bow.” Catra narrows her focus to just water princess. “I’d just like to remind you that you don’t have to like me to sit at this table. But you need to work with me and everyone else. And you, along with your pretty princess brigade, just ran out the person you claim to care about and oh so desperately need in your alliance. And you’ve just pissed me off. Sure, I said you suck--but who currently is causing more issues at this table… hmm? Hell, maybe if I shut up and become a useful enough tool to you, you’ll overlook the fact that I was in the Horde like Adora or Scorpia or Entrapta or Shadow Weaver --” 

The whole room doesn’t dare breathe. The muted vacuum is suffocating.

“--and stop wasting time in the meetings just to argue with me.” She averts her gaze and flits to the rest of the room. 

No one meets her eyes or challenges her. 

Scorpia quietly pats Catra’s arm and whispers, “You’re right, you know.”

Something pats her head--she traces the animated lock of purple hair to its owner a few seats down the table. Entrapta gives a quiet nod and goes back to looking at her tracker pad. 

Well, not everyone sucks.

Uneasy, the Queen clears her throat. “Take five. Regather yourselves and please come back to this table with focus . We have a large agenda to get through today. And a reminder-- Adora is out of commission. That includes She-Ra. I will not hear anyone try to entertain otherwise. Clear? Catra, Mermista--a word.”

“Did somebody say Swift Wind?” the horse gently asks without his usual gusto. 

Adora, slightly caught off guard, turns from her desk to the archway out to the balcony where her friend stands. “No one did,” she slightly giggles, playing into the bit. By now it’s an inside joke between the two; no one else seems to get it. She pulls at the hair tie on her wrist and comes over to her steed. “Hey, Swifty,” she says, patting his mane.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He isn’t sure what ‘it’ is, but he knows when something is bothering her. ‘It’ is probably a lot of things on her mind.

Adora just sighs and continues to pat and smooth along Swifty’s neck.

“It’s okay.”

So they stand there, caretaker and steed. She repetitively grooms his silken mane to ground herself and he enjoys being in her presence. It’s been a while since they last had a moment like this. Simple. Quiet. 

Thinking about the gravity of the never-ending storm brewing in the hero’s mind, Swift Wind regards Adora in her current state. 

Her hair’s out. Probably because she can’t tie it back at the length it’s currently at. He’s not sure how it got this short, but Swift Wind knows it had to have happened out in the Waste with the small cuts on her face and the varied bruising he knows is across her arms and torso. That’s probably what makes it scarier to him--aside from when she lost She-Ra, Swift Wind has rarely seen her with injuries that have lasted longer than a day. 

Scarring? Sure. Sometimes things would scar--usually injuries caused by Catra… which now makes more sense thinking about it--emotional connection and all. There’s faint scars on her jaw caused by claws raking through skin. And an even fainter set of claw marks down her back that he’s seen once or twice. They’ve lightened over time since the Battle of Brightmoon and have become nothing more than thin pale lines one only sees when the light skims it at the right angle.

But the prospect of remaining injured with a goddess-like power back on her side? It just never occurred to him. 

You look tired .

Adora stops combing. 

Darn, did I say that out loud?

“I am,” she whispers. “Why am I so tired?”

I guess we are talking about it. Or some of it.

“Well… you haven’t had a break since--since never. Aaand you did just save the world-- just casually putting it out there --and then jumped right into the next thing,” he muses bluntly, “yeah, I don’t know… I feel like maybe--just maybe--I’d be a bit tired after doing all of that stuff.”

“Yes, thank you Swift Wind; you just identified and solved all my problems.” Adora cocks her hip and rolls her eyes.

The horse snorts, face deadpan. 

“Sorry, I just--I don’t know. I know I did all this stuff, but people are still depending on me and I can’t do the thing they want me to.” Her eyes glisten with frustrated tears. “What if I’m not enough anymore? I’m having problems again with She-Ra and I--I don’t know why, and even though I healed the land, there’s so much to rebuild from war and Prime, an--and at some point in all this craziness during Prime… I don’t know--I just didn’t see me--us--getting this far. Especially towards the end.”

Her steed blinks at her--the rest of his body unmoving. After a second, he shifts on his hooves nervously and he softens. “Did you really think that?”

“I mean, yeah . I was just being realistic,” she huffs and mumbles.

“Do you still believe that? That you --you… um.”

Adora exhales, “There’s no point lying to you, right?” 

“I’m attuned to your emotions, so not really, no.”

“Then… honestly I don’t know. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I do wonder whether it was destiny or if it was just me believing that it was my destiny.” She begins to retreat back to her desk. It’s cluttered with parchments, journals, and writing utensils. “I mean, all I was ever told since I could understand was that I had a destiny--no matter what circumstance I was in, right?” Swifty nods, following her logic. “It’s so stupid… but when I broke the sword, I was mad at myself--and you felt it breaking, I’m sure--but I was also secretly relieved? Suddenly all expectations from everyone disappeared.

“So when I came back with She-Ra, the expectations reappeared and doubled. The big giant destiny got even bigger and the stakes for the universe became life or death--it all came down to me, really.”

“Well you were told it came down to you,” he adds.

Adora eases her way back into her chair and lays her head on the cool parchment lying on the surface. “Do I ever really have a choice?” She’s not looking at Swift Wind anymore.

He follows her gaze to a stack of books and tomes further away on the large desk. Some engraved in what he recognizes as First One’s writing, others in languages even older and indecipherable to the horse--not that he can read much of anything in the first place.

Taking his wing and embracing his friend, he shakes his head. “Even if you felt like you didn’t have a choice before, you have choices now.” Adora leans her head on his cheek and pats his muzzle. “Regardless of what's going on, just know that me and your friends--we all love you, Adora, and just want you to be happy,” he states.

Adora sits up. “Than--”

“--especially me because I can tell when you’re not and that really brings me down, y’know?” Swift Wind puffs air into the blonde’s face. 

Small hairs blow out of place and she sputters at the surprise. He snorts at her now disheveled state and she begins to laugh, too.

“How about we get out of here and go on a fly?”

Adora considers this for a moment. They haven’t in a while--it might be nice. Though her head hurts and her stomach is thinking about Swifty’s tendencies for turbulence and loops. “...Sure,” the girl smiles.

Hooves clack on the ground in elation. “Yes! Swift Wind and She-Ra back together ag-ai-n!” he sings. “Can we do loops?”

“No.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Do you ever stop being a certified bitch ?”

Maybe Glimmer should’ve called Bow in to have this chat between the two women in front of her. She’s not sure if she has the patience to handle this. Her head croons over to the aforementioned boyfriend and pleads with her eyes. He gives a tight smile and shakes his head. 

Fuuuuuuck. I’m on my own.

“GUYS. SHUT UP.” She gets their attention. Mermista sneers at Catra; Catra crosses her arms at Mermista. “Can you two just zip it? Whatever this feud is always gets in the way of our meetings. Always!”

“Wow, there’s a surprise no one saw coming,” the water princess snarks. “Almost like it’s impossible to work with traitor Horde scum.”

Catra’s hackles rise and a hiss forms in her throat. It’s so hard not to be violent right now.

“Mermista! Enough sarcasm,” the Queen snaps.

“Not to be a pessimist or anything--but like that’s not happening.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes and swivels to Catra. “And I need you to get your anger in check. You may be my advisor and a commanding officer, but I need people to work with you, which means you need to work with people.”

Her advisor scoffs, “I don’t need anger management, I need people to stop pissing me off.”

“UGH! Y’know what? We’re not discussing logistics for Salineas or the Fright Zone until you two figure out how to work together, got it?” Flaunting her cape and curtly turning, she adds, “That’s an order,” and marches over to Bow.

Catra and Mermista stand there stunned--both by the glitter hitting their face and by the Queen’s orders.

“She’s crazy.”

“Yep.

Flying’s nice. 

Stars, she’s missed this. 

Strands of hair entangling with the breeze.

A quiet observer from above, but still a part of the planet--not like space where she felt lost in a schism of galaxy and stars.

Without insipid sterile vessels stabbing into the sky, it almost feels alive . Wind breathes into her path. Colors of the ether are dynamic and shift auras with the moons’ movements. 

It’s a rush--almost overwhelmingly so. Adora lets an orb of light--speck of magic--trace along Swifty’s mane and brush along her cheek. It floats off as she glides away in the opposite direction. The planet really did wake up, didn’t it? She hugs the horse’s neck, closes her eyes, and lets the tiniest bit of tension drop from her frame.

Swift Wind whinnies at his friend’s awe and love for the planet.

“Take a deep, cleansing breath. Find harmony in your inner turmoil.”

Somehow the flower princess inserted herself into solving Mermista and Catra’s conflict.

Mermista puts her hands on her hips. “We’re both breathing, Perfuma. You can go now. No need for useless meditation.”

The only united front so far is against meditation.

“It does work! All of you would know this if you’d just try it!”

Catra glances at Mermista. “What does she mean ‘all of you’?”

“Oh she’s been trying to get people on board with it for years. It’s like a lot of inner harmony. Too much for me.”

“It’s not like meditation really works anyway,” Catra states.

Affronted, Perfuma’s eye twitches and she grumbles, “You’re just as bad as Adora with this.”

Both women snicker and the blonde’s eyebrow quirks. Maybe I can help them. She smoothes her dress and clasps her hands in front and takes a centering breath to find her best self again. “I’m going to disregard both of your negative vibes,” she hums, “and suggest a conflict-resolution exercise that we love to do in Plumeria.” Both women before the flower princess recoil. She supposes that’s to be expected. Perfuma clears her throat and clasps her hands. “It’s a compliment circle!”

“There are three of us here,” her newer friend points to both royals present.

Patience. “Fine. A triangle. I’ll start.” She turns to Catra and reaches for her hands. At the other girl freezing and her fur beginning to stick up, she decides to put her arms down and opts instead for eye contact. “Catra: I admire how passionate and willful you are. You listen to yourself first and trust your instincts and that’s an important thing in planning and working with others in situations.”

Catra’s searching Perfuma’s face. Did I say it wrong? Or maybe I used the wrong adjectives to describe her--or the wrong tone? I can clarify maybe? “Catra--it’s not a bad thing--what I said. I meant that--”

“--no, no, I know,” she waves her off. “Um… thanks.”

Thank goodness. “Okay your turn!”

The enthusiasm unfazes Catra as she turns to Mermista--hands still on her hips. She’d rather not have to dig for compliments. “You have water powers,” Catra states.

“Ummm that’s not a compliment--that’s just a fact,” Mermista smirks. 

“You’re powerful I guess.”

“You guess ?”

“You’re fucking scary,” the catgirl states, finally meeting and holding her opponent’s eyes. Her arms cross but her tail stills.

Catra! Perfuma huffs, “What happened to posi--”

“Thanks. You’re like kinda scary, too.”

Did I miss something? Perfuma tries to figure out the energy between the two in front of her. They’re still standing off. Right?

“Only kinda?”

“Cats don’t like water--I think I have the advantage here.”

“Until you don’t have water.”

“Touche.”

“So you admit I’m scary, too.” It’s not posed as a question.

“Sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” she smiles wickedly, “...aside from your girlfriend.”

Catra’s blush is immediate. She sputters, “I--we haven’t--don’t think I don’t notice you with your pirate himbo! I smell the tension all the way down the table.”

What is happening? “You guys--maybe we’re not ready for a compliment circle or I didn’t demonstrate well enough that it’s about positivity and building each other up. Not comments that are distasteful,” Perfuma tries.

The other two women finally acknowledge the third person with them and mirror each other’s facial expressions--eyebrow cocked and stifling a laugh. 

They keep staring at her.

She can’t read what’s happening.

“ What! ” she bites in frustration. The two look back to each other before side-eyeing her again. Mermista snorts. Catra’s unserious. Somehow Perfuma’s the only one not on the same page. “What are you two--” she cuts her frustration off with a deep breath. I will let them sort this out on their own . “Excuse me.” The tall blonde leaves, muttering ohms and stretching her neck.

The pair turn again and share a look.

“So, how long before flower power comes back to try--”

“Hmm good question. I give it like 2 minutes. Max.”

They both snicker. 

“You still are like-- a massive bitch .”

“I don’t doubt it. And I still hate you.”

Small nods to each other are shared.

Adora startles from her notes when the bed slightly dips beside her. 

“Hey, Adora.” Catra scoots closer and snakes her arms around Adora, leaning her chin on her. “Missed you today.” She presses a long kiss to lover’s bare shoulder and feels the tension release some.

Adora puts down the book and regards Catra, reciprocating the hug. “Missed you, too.” She nestles into the hold as Catra’s face burrows into her short hair. “What did I miss at council today?”

A mumbled ‘bullshit’ makes its way into her blonde locks.

The blonde snorts and turns to face Catra. “I doubt it was just a bunch of ‘bullshit,’ Catra.”

Catra smiles, soaking in everything that is Adora and sighs. “I mean it’s always stupid and boring when you’re not there. The water princess and I got into it again…” she smirks.

A simple ‘oh’ is all Adora can muster in response. As little as Catra tells her about her feelings, she knows that other people’s opinions matter to her. And it’s been hard to win the approval of everyone, especially Mermista. Being around all the princesses eats at her and Adora can see it under her layers of intensity and fervor she projects to unknowing observers. It’s little things like this that remind Adora there’s still a lot to fix. A lot of things I’m at fault for. A lot that I should--

Nimble fingers flick her skull.

“And before you start going off into your head, you should know that it’s getting better. I think, at least. It counts for something.” Careening over a broad shoulder, Catra peers over to the journal set down on their duvet. Her tail coils gently around her partner’s sturdy waist. She regards the band of gauze underneath, still holding the blood and injury at bay. The dynamic has become a weird purgatory and Adora and Catra fix the wound twice daily; the new dressings guard like clockwork--it’s not getting any worse, but also not any better. “Whaddya find today? Any answers or clues?”

Adora reads the anticipation dissipate in Catra’s frame as she smiles bittersweetly at the pages before her. She flicks through the parchment and stares at the translations and notes in her script. “Just more ancient translations. The First Ones really liked translating old stuff.”

“Just like you.”

The observation is innocent enough, but Adora shudders. The journal shuts and gets placed on the desk across the room. Adora turns off the lamps and crystals and makes her way back to Catra. She reaches her hand out in the dark and Catra pulls her into safety. The burrow under covers and exchange gentle whisperings of support and love, musings of moments, and remembrances. They entangle at the legs, pull at the waist, and breathe the same rhythms, fingers entwined in hair--existing as an immovable unit. It’s closer than the barracks, and more relaxed than in space.

When Catra finally closes her eyes and drifts, Adora remains stuck in this plane. There’s a dream--no, a vision--waiting for her, she knows it. When her eyes closed hours earlier in the day, it was there: 

Her, alone, a shining beacon being dimmed out as the moons darkened and lost their lustre. The gold burned brighter, bringing hot tears to her eyes as she stood there, reaching out and clutching her chest in awe. Or agony. She was agonisingly beautiful. The writing glowing over Her chest went unnoticed as the first shadows creeped from behind. Suddenly reaching out to her, She slowly became smaller in her vision. Cold pinpricks burst from her left, and a black ooze started to inch toward her. The lurching of her stomach expanded to the panicked beat of her heart and the more she reached for Her, the further She drifted. But She was in place. Adora was drifting, swaying, being pulled and yanked into the sludge. It was piercing, it was electric, it was corrosive, and it choked out the warmth that she felt radiating off of Her. In her last ditch to reach that warmth, she somehow found it. 

And holding onto it for her life with a strong grasp, she found the permeating darkness clinging to them like tar. She shone brighter and the greedy void siphoned. And eventually, in the eerie lime light of the moons, all was consumed and the rest was darkness.

Chapter Text

Trips to the library become routine as Adora and company scour through sections of books and scrolls, searching for anything to point them in the direction of a possible treatment. Nothing’s turned up, but it’s not a complete waste of time. When Glimmer or Micah joins to research for the day, they always find some new ancient tome--learning about celestial sorcery, understanding the moonstone’s power, writings on Bright Moon’s rise as a kingdom. Glimmer feels more connected to her mother and the matriarchs before her in a way she hasn’t felt since that fleeting moment of clarity in the Chamber of Queens. 

Bow agrees to come on the weekends. It takes a few trips for him to reintegrate himself into the goings on of his home life, but he cherishes the quality time he shares with his dads and friends. Knowing the layout of the library--even in its more currently disheveled state--helps, and he spends his time fetching papers and new books and bouncing ideas off of Adora as she deciphers writings. When she feels like her brain is going to explode, Bow’s always there to add insight or engineer a new question from a different angle of the problem. He leaves his tinkering for his makerspace and just spends time with Adora. 

It’s nice--not that it’s bad to have the whole squad show up, but Bow’s come to value his one-on-one time with Adora much more since Glimmer’s coronation. She’s just been there when he’s needed it the most--whether she realizes it or not. Bow hopes that he does the same--sometimes he doubts how much he’s able to help and support his friends, especially Adora. And now by extension Catra. While Catra is a new (and welcome!) addition to his circle, Bow’s known Adora for years now, and sometimes he still feels that he doesn’t do enough to help his best friend with her ever-growing list of duties and problems. Adora’s so strong, but she doesn’t let people in easily on the stuff she has going on. Sometimes, Bow doesn’t know how to be let in, even if he considers himself the most-emotionally mature person around. 

But he’ll keep trying. 

He can try to be there when she needs it.

And does she need it today. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and days before that, there’s absolutely nothing. So many dead ends so far. Bow knows there’s so much of the library to read through, still, but Adora’s patience is already growing thin. 

The longer she sits, waiting for injuries to heal regularly and for one injury to persist, the more Adora gets fed up. She is supposed to be helping dismantle remaining Horde sympathizers and Prime’s cult. She could be helping build new homes and buildings. And yet she has done nothing but get beat up and read herself into an impasse. 

Parchment slaps onto the table and Adora lets out a groan.

“Another dead end?”

She nods. “I think I need to talk to your dads about labeling--they’re comically bad at identifying First Ones’ language.”

“Considering one has a tattoo spelled ‘LUNCH’ I would have to agree,” Bow chuckles. “So, no She-Ra there, but was it at least anything interesting?”

“Travel and exploration. Mostly a bunch of colonizer ideals, but some map sketches were cool--though I’m not sure how up-to-date things are now with being spat out of Despondos after 1000 years.”

An idea tickles the archer’s brain. “Well that seems like a cool thing!”

“They were colonizers, Bow.”

Not what I was going for--wrong foot to start on. “Making maps and traveling, though! It would’ve been actually helpful to have decent maps before and now that we’re back in the universe, we actually can, now.”

“But a lot of the maps look wrong and are based on Eternian definitions and naming systems,” she grimaces.

“Adora, have you considered taking up a hobby?”

Adora quirks her eyebrow. “Pssh! I have plenty of hob--”

“--You-don’t-know-what-a-hobby-is-do-you,” Bow cuts her off quickly.

“...No.” Her head drops. 

Bow laughs and throws himself back onto the couch cushions in his fit. Noticing her embarrassment linger, though, he gains his composure and quickly apologizes and explains what a hobby is to put the poor girl out of her misery.

“So what do maps have to do with things like hobbies?”

I love you but you are incredibly thick sometimes. “Adora, you spend a lot of time with maps and reading and critiquing them, right.”

“Uh huh…”

“And you enjoy doing that?”

“Yeah?”

Bow quickly sighs, “Oh you’re going to make me spell it out for you.”

“We’re just talking, you don’t have to spell. I can read, Bow.”

“That doesn’t--okay it’s fine, whatever. Adora: You should have a hobby. Take up map-making.”

“Ohhhh. But with what free time?”

Bow groans in exasperation and spends the rest of the afternoon trying to convince Adora to schedule in free time to her days.

And most days start quietly for Catra and Adora. Today’s no different. A chill lingers in the air and Catra tunes into the soft pattering against the stone high above. Looking out at the morning rain, she curls closer to her partner and pulls at the blanket to cover the blonde’s frame better. Habitual sleep-fighting tends to push covers to the ends of the bed and leaves the pair shivering more now that the mornings are colder and they don’t live in the smoggy furnace that is the Fright Zone.

Her fingers play with shortened blonde strands. She hasn’t voiced to Adora how much she likes the change in hair, but she loves seeing her hair down. Like the tension it usually holds has fallen away. Granted, she’s sure it was more like a snap from the sheer amount of strain--to Adora this change was not a choice. To Catra, she still thinks she would have easily sacrificed the hand that dared grab Adora. Only an idiot would give a kindness to a group of people with bad--murderous? Definitely murderous--intentions. 

And Adora is an idiot.

An idiot that is softly snoring, blowing warm puffs in Catra’s direction.

She turns over to pull out a small book and pencil and sets down Adora’s figure on a new page. Eyebrows are filled in, thick and dark. Soft strokes resemble gently tossed hair and fringe spilling onto her pillow and cheek. She plots out gentle and faint scars on her jaw and down her torso, smoothed out under the peace of sleep and the still moonlight. Entranced by the girl next to her and lulled by the whispered scratching and dulcet purling of the waterfall, Catra relaxes into a focused headspace and sketches. Bow was right: a hobby, even if recent, has been doing her good. It reminds her of simpler times, their early days. Being able to scratch figures into the verdigris layered on the metal walls of their barracks. Times more innocent--

“So, this is the ex-leader of the Horde.”

“Only Second-in-Command.”

“That’s not what the Waste has been saying,” Huntara smirked. “You seem to have a knack for taking power.”

The tall woman towered over Catra, almost-intimidatingly so, and yet… and yet Catra could see her care behind a cold tough exterior. “Yeah… I guess I do. Horde training, I guess, right?" She challenged her. Catra had heard the whispers growing up, of a deserter found alive in the Wastes, but no one dared to say more. At the time, she thought that they eventually perished, but that belief of certain death was easily squashed when she herself was sent into exile. 

Built arms crossed themselves. “Hmph.”

She understood Huntara a lot more now. “I can trust you, right?”

Huntara snorted. “That’s a dumb thing to ask.”

“You respect someone upfront. Adora trusts you, so I do, too.”

“How do you know that I trust you?”

“Didn’t have to ask--you just told me,” Catra smirked back. 

Huntara grinned--in other circumstances she’d be pissed--Catra was clever. Mouthy. But she knew her way around words and how to get information that she wanted without folding her hand. A good complement to Blondie’s straightforwardness and direct approach. “I like you, Kit.”

Catra’s nose scrunches thinking about the nickname. Kit? Ugh. She used to be feared. Shading in, she peers at the moonlight dusting Adora’s figure. Its warm light bending through raindrops gently lands on her face, a small spectrum of golds and pinks refracting and shimmering with the rainfall.

“Tell me something, Huntara,” Catra waited for the woman’s nod before continuing, “what’s your read on Double Trouble?”

“Ask for my take? You already know the worst.”

Catra paused--what did Huntara know? DT wasn’t a talker--not without a price--who did--

“Glitter filled me in. Wanted my opinion before hiring them again. I said it wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted that they could be of-use.”

Catra shakes her head. What was Sparkles doing?It’s business, not friendship. Fucking fuck. “If someone outbids her, they’ll backstab her in a heartbeat. She should know--it was a bitch to be on the receiving end of such betrayal.” The shock of that day still plagued her thoughts. Instinctually, she turns back to look at the closed door leading to Adora’s suite. Catra shivered.

“Then you know to keep a close eye and your ear to the ground. Regardless of the faith the Queen has put in them, I haven’t got any trust. My job is to keep an eye on your girl--news catches quick and she’s got a target on her back. Vulnerable ain’t a good thing in the Waste.”

The coal crumbles under the pressure, and Catra blows it off the page. She glances, from her sketch to her muse and back and sighs. Sleep’s been evading her as much as it has Adora, and there’s no way she can fall back asleep now. She closes the book and puts it under her pillow--she’ll return to it tomorrow morning when her routine nightmares arrive in her slumber and she can’t bear to see them anymore. She hopes to fill more pages with Adora; Adora at peace, Adora calm, Adora smiling, Adora’s eyes, Adora’s body--her thoughts can lead her into very intimate places--places neither girl has dared to venture yet--if she lets herself. But Adora etched in still life rarely existed in the pages of her book. Catra knows that such stillness and peace is rare. Impermanent.

Her hand hovers over her partner’s waist. The grey tank rode up a little during sleep, but instead of pale, milky skin underneath, all she sees is the white gauze from bandages. Why did this one persist? How did my cuts get fully healed but not Adora’s? She floats her gaze down to her own leg. She knew how bad it hurt--that sickening, gut wrenching pull as fire shot up her leg. She’d felt that same feeling in that green pool. Agony. All before her body went soft and her mind invaded. It was a concentrated burst of the torture she was too familiar with. She had been able to handle it at the time, down there in the Heart, but just barely. Adora, she remembered, was way worse for wear. And only Adora has any artifacts on her body of what transpired in that cave.

“Are you going to keep staring?”

Catra startles, “Oh, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Only just now. You know you could’ve woken me up earlier--did you have another nightmare?” Adora pushes herself up to sitting and swings her legs off the bed. She sucks in air between her teeth. Her hand shoots to her waist and Catra jumps up--“I’m fine, just sore.”

She hates this. Catra recoils at her words and makes her way off the bed herself. “Um, yeah I had a nightmare… it just wasn’t anything new or too serious. Y’know, just… the usual stuff.” 

They’d been doing this dance for weeks.

      “I’m fine--”

“Obviously not.”

                                           “It’s fine… just--”

“Are you sure?”

“Just talk to me!”

But how much talking can a pair do when their first instinct is to hide? Someone snaps and the other apologizes after trying to double down or push for more than what is already clear on the surface. 

What a limbo.

Adora puffs out a sigh and rubs sleep out of her eyes. “I can start the shower?”

Catra nods while stretching. Vertebrae crack as she arches her back, inhaling, and the exhale helps wash away some of the settled uneasiness of her morning. She would rather die and be buried before admitting out loud, but Perfuma maybe did have a point about breathing and restoration and all that shit.

She follows Adora into the ensuite--light lavender clouds already billow from the shower. The pair strip down and walk into the warm spray together. Catra reaches for Adora’s hands, which her partner instinctively reciprocates, and she turns her back to the rushing, roaring water. She gasps when it hits her neck and trails down her back and she just focuses on what’s in front of her. Who holds her hands. The softened callouses and long fingers that wrap supportively around her own that are tense. She tries her best, she really does, to not scratch Adora, but feeling the hot water on her bare neck and her hackles raising and the water is ever-consuming and she can’t hold on and it’s freezing and bright and hot at all at the same time and--

Her favorite pair of hands move to her cheeks, brushing away water. Or the beginnings of tears. This is routine now, and yet it feels like a fresh wound. The first time. 

Catra: a feared leader--

Reduced to tears by a shower.

She used to not mind the shower--even if in the Horde they were cold and on a timer--but since Prime, the prospect of being in or around fluid, even water, is terrifying. But the feeling of dirt and stuff in her short coat is worse, and so a shower it is.

As soon as it starts, it’s over. She turns back around having missed that Adora has lathered and rinsed shampoo throughout her hair, neck, and back while she was lost in her thoughts. Adora swaps places with her, bringing her back to Etheria. She keeps eye contact and lets Catra wash her in return. 

“I’m okay, I’m right here and nothing bad is happening to me,” Adora breathes.

Last week Catra woke from a nightmare. One so bad that she needed to wake up Adora instead of brushing it off as she usually does.

“It was Prime.” This wasn’t out of the ordinary. Prime tended to plague Catra’s dreams every night like a burning sore.

Adora held onto Catra’s hands. Even in the pitch black of night she could see Catra clearly and made sure to find and hold her eyes. “Was it the ship?”

Catra nodded and then shook her head. It was more than that.

“Did he…?” The thought died on Adora’s lips. A thought she herself couldn’t bear to manifest in words.

Catra’s own demise seemed to settle in her bones weeks, if not years, ago. A thought she didn’t pay much mind anymore, but was always there. It wouldn’t be too bad dying in her own dreams. She spent years in her waking moments thinking about when she’d reach the end of her existence anyway, and it just stopped being that terrifying. 

Death.

At least she thought death wasn’t scary.

It’d happen eventually, probably sooner rather than later. 

But that was when it was just her.

Catra looked away and wiped the tears out of her eyes. Her brain was cruel for being able to conjure such an awful reality in her dreams.

She pulled her partner in close, and rested her ear over her heart. It beat strongly. 

It was just a dream.

“Promise to never leave me again?”

“I promise. I’m sorry I left you, Catra.”

“I don’t care about the Woods, Adora. Never leave me here alone again.”

Adora cautiously pulled back a little to study Catra’s face. 

Lost. 

She looked lost.

Adora pulled at the feeling it wasn’t the regular set of things that haunted Catra. Something had shifted.

“Catra… what happened in your dream?”

“You. You…” Catra chokes, hiccuping on her last words.

Saying it wouldn’t make it real. But it certainly felt real.

“You left me. Horde Prime took you from me.”

It was the Heart and they were the only two people left at the end of the world. 

And then there was only Catra. 

As the Heart roared, breathing in new life to the planet, that burning, oozing, suffocating green liquid poisoned and consumed the blonde in her arms. Adora couldn’t even fight it--she wouldn’t. She just smiled that fond, brave, idiotic smile as she accepted her fate. 

But the pool grew in size and suddenly she was thrashing, unable to hold back her suffering screams of pain as she drowned and died as Adora.

Catra woke up before someone else would come out of that pool.

Adora, in their bed, stroked her hair, hugged her close. 

Because she chose not to leave.

Even a shower now with Adora is scary when she blinks--the visceral image of Adora being consumed in a pool of liquid is burned into Catra’s eyelids. She knows it won’t go away for a while.

“Catra, what’s this?” Adora picks up a piece of folded paper sitting on her desk that wasn’t there before: its fibers shift in the light, changing from cerulean to a soft orchid. A light but sturdy bit of parchment that had delicate scrawlings sitting lightly on the outer edges of the page. There’s more solid script in the middle--Adora just hasn’t read it yet.

Before Catra can mutter a verbal shrug, not knowing when it appeared or how, she and her partner are blinded by the onslaught of sparkles filling space in between them. So much for the increased need for boundaries.

“One day you’re going to poof into something you’ll wish you were blind for,” Catra growls, rubbing the glow burned in her eyes until the acute pain recedes. Adora’s lucky she doesn’t have this issue--sometimes she’s even worse than Glimmer, though Catra would gladly let her retinas burn to stare at her starlight. She just won’t admit that to anyone. Yet.

Glimmer shrieks, “THIS. IS. HORRIBLE.”

She’s holding the same stationery that Adora is. “What? This?” the blonde waves around the parchment--it’s so striking yet subtle how it seems to float between color transitions.

“Yes! I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. And they know that I know that our schedules are free, so we can’t even say no without looking like complete assholes!”

Catra’s ears perk as Glimmer blabbers on, eyes now also fixated on the iridescent paper. Some invite of some sort, and judging by the two princesses--or rather the Queen and She-Ra--in front of her, it must be something that is important. She internally chuckles. These are the last two people that should go to a diplomatic event, but title outranks discomposure.

Adora quirks her eyebrow, still entranced with the physical beauty of the note, but turns back to Glimmer after processing what was said. “Wait, why would we want to say no?”

Glimmer draws an exasperated groan and finally looks at Adora’s piece of paper. Un-opened. She trudges over to the taller girl, takes the invite out of her hand, and unfolds it. Fibers of text float off the parchment upon opening and form in the air in front of Adora.

Your Highness, She-Ra, Lady Adora of Eternia, Anointed Princess of Power, Divine High Priestess of Etheria and its Twelve Moons, The Honorable Queen’s Champion, and Grand Commander of the Great Etherian Rebellion 

& 

Your Excellency, Commander Catra of the Fright Zone, Chief Advisor and Maréchal to Her Majesty Queen Glimmer of Brightmoon and Second Commander of the Etherian Horde:

Your presences are requested at the reinstitution of our traditional eve of knowledge, ploy, and domestic competition in our private quarters.

On the morrow. Please ensure that your arrival falls between the second moonset and ninth moonrise, after all meetings of your days have concluded.

There will be refreshments and plentiful libations.

With kindness and strength,

The Joint Office of Her Highnesses, 

Netossa of the Far Reaches

Princess Royal of Bright Moon, Master Markswoman and Reconnaissance Specialist of the First and Second Princess Alliances and Great Etherian Rebellion

&

Spinnerella of the Far Reaches

Princess Royal of Bright Moon, High Cyclone and Beneficent Gale, Mighty Stormbringer, 

and Ambassador-at-Large and Aid Specialist of the First and Second Princess Alliances and Great Etherian Rebellion

Adora has to blink after reading the opening honorifics, but when she opens her eyes the message sweeps into the air. Her eyes track back down to the paper, where the message again glows on the page.

Catra, having read most of the message before it disappearing, has maybe an idea of what’s being asked of Adora--and apparently her, too--considering Spinnerella and Netossa’s usual antics. The language and invite of it all is overly-grandioise, though. Is it that serious or is it to be obnoxious? They’d find out tomorrow, she supposes.