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Chapter Text

“Did you think even once about what would happen to me after you left?” Catra hissed, claws and fangs bared. She was tired and She-ra was a towering figure, but she wasn't afraid. She wasn't. "Did you even care?"

She-ra moved faster than Catra expected, a blur of white and gold. She slammed Catra against the wall with a hand clenched in her shirt, the warrior’s eyes wild and her teeth visibly clenched. There was a trembling in her shoulders like control maintained by the finest of fraying threads. Catra's claws digging into She-ra’s hands didn’t even make her flinch. Catra tensed as the feeling of being thoroughly trapped closed around her neck like a snare, eyes darting across the terrain for some kind of escape. It was so easy to be cruel when Adora was Like That, but there was her childhood friend glaring out of the 8-foot amazon’s eyes.

“Of course I did, that’s why I tried to get you to leave the Horde! But did you even think for a second that you weren’t the only one she was hurting?” She-ra dropped her, diminishing into a battered, unarmored girl again. Catra’s Adora, arms wrapped around herself as if that would hold her composure together. “Even if I wanted to go back, what do you think they would do to me, Catra?”

She was such a drama queen. It made Catra sick, made her want to lash out with her words and claws until Adora didn't haunt her anymore. She shoved Adora so hard that she tumbled backward, skidding several inches through the dirt before coming to a stop. Adora stood up again because of course she did. She was Adora. 

Catra snarled. “Since when did they punish you for anything, princess?”

Adora, real Adora and not that magical sham, met her eyes for the first time, raw and wounded and desperately trying to curl around the hurt so that it couldn't be seen. It was a punch to the gut. If she were honest with herself, and Catra rarely was, Adora used to be her hero. Maybe deep down she really did believe that she was the golden girl, uplifted and untouchable. Maybe she also believed the lie Shadow Weaver was selling them.

Adora's voice finally came through so small and bitter and everything that Catra never thought she could be. Suddenly seeing her knocked into the dirt didn't feel like a victory. 

“Just because you didn’t see it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Chapter Text

Catra burrowed into Adora’s back, purring quietly against the back of her neck until the other girl giggled and pushed her face away.

“That tickles.”

“Like I’m not doing it on purpose, Adora.” She drew Adora’s name out playfully against her ear, partially because she loved the way it sounded, but mostly because it made Adora’s ears flush. Catra could almost picture the stupid gooey face she was making right now. Adora would never willingly show it to anyone of course. The Horde punished softness. Still, Catra could admit that the look in Adora’s eyes was one of her favorite things. It reminded Catra of when they were young and there was still occasionally sunlight in the Fright Zone, when the clouds of smog broke up and there were little slivers of grey-blue peeking through. It was so... warm.

Adora tugged the blanket up around them both, still with her face turned away. How she managed to make her back look stern even in bed was the kind of mystery Catra was willing to take her whole life to solve.

“If you’re going to keep playing around you can sleep in your own bed.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Then hush!”

She would never follow through on the threat, but Catra subsided anyway. Maybe under other circumstance she would be happy to be contrary until Adora was ready to throw her out a window, but… well. Catra was in no way immune to snuggling with Adora. It wasn’t long before she drifted into a catnap, just awake enough to enjoy the warmth and closeness in a way she couldn’t when the world was awake. Part of her was still aware, just in case any of their squadmates decided to make a bathroom run during the night. There was no reason to paint a target on their backs by looking soft. 

“Hey, Catra? Catra?” After a long, long time Adora turned in Catra’s arms. Catra didn’t move, curious about what Adora was doing. Gentle fingertips traced over her features, following the curves of her cheeks, the arch of her nose and the curve of her jaw. It was the kind of thing that Adora would never, ever do while Catra was awake. This was the kind of thing that got you labelled as a weakling. This was the kind of thing that got people killed. And here was perfect Cadet Adora with her head in the clouds, cupping Catra's face like she was something precious.

“You’re my best friend, Catra.” Adora laughed quietly. “You would think it’s stupid, but I… I...”

Her voice died off and she was silent for a long time. After what felt like an eternity she burrowed into Catra’s chest and clung like she was a lifeline. 

Catra never did hear what she was going to say.

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Chapter Text

If just touching lips was enough to count as a kiss, then Adora and Catra kissed a half dozen times when they were cadets. Admittedly it was mostly from Adora badly misjudging a headbutt and nearly breaking their faces. When it came to anything else they had only a passing familiarity with intimacy. Horde cadets weren't meant to be people, but tools, pawns to use and discard. Perhaps Adora was destined to be a queen, but she still merely a piece on the board.

Whatever softness was in them was stripped away before they had a choice. 

Instead it was Adora stalking angrily after Catra into an empty hallway at Princess Prom. It was Catra drawing in sweet and predatory to mock Adora with a parody of their closeness. “Are you really going to keep following me around just because of one dance Adora? Who would have thought you were the clingy type?”

It was too weird to be the target of that thinly veiled contempt, and Adora wondered if she had the same expression. It was a battle between the part of Adora that missed her best friend... and the part that wanted to strangle this asshole stranger with her bare hands. Catra seemed to see something in her face, because she stalked closer, and Adora found herself retreating despite herself. As furious as Adora was, Catra never looked more handsome. 

She clearly knew it, because she smirked. “Cat got your tongue, Adora?”

Maybe she didn’t know Adora as well as she thought, or she wouldn’t have backed her up against a wall. Or worn that suit.

“Shut up, Catra.”

Adora’s fingers curled in Catra’s lapels, tugging her into her mouth as easily as she used to yank Catra into a headlock when they were kids. Adora didn’t really know how to kiss, but it was enough that Catra was finally closer. Not that Adora's experience mattered - it was no more a kiss than a brawl was making love. It was all teeth, all Catra pressing the advantage and Adora against the wall. It was drowning in her scent and her warmth until Adora was dizzy and breathless. 

Then she felt wandering claws snag in her dress. Adora slapped Catra’s hands away and pulled back with a scowl. “If you tear my dress, I’ll -”

“Are you suggesting I’m that petty?” Catra's tail switched slowly back and forth, her eyes half-lidded. 

“You are.” They were so close that Adora couldn’t resist brushing another kiss across Catra’s lips. Was love supposed to feel like a dagger sliding under her ribs? “You are.”

Chapter Text

“I’m going to need that back eventually, you know?”

“Not a chance.”  Catra exhaled, her breath fogging on the air. How Adora stood this weather in just her white shirt and pants Catra would never know. As far as she was concerned was too cold out here in all of Bright Moon's nature. This jacket was hers now. Sorry Adora.

Adora huffed out a defeated laugh and perched on the wide railing, drawing her knees to her chest and propping her chin on her crossed arms. She said no more.

Catra shoved her hands in the jacket’s pockets and leaned against the wall, eyes still trained on the thin line of light on the horizon. She never got tired of watching the sunrise, no matter how many days, weeks, months passed. For all her life the sky was a blanket of black smog. There was nothing like this back in the Fright Zone, and no matter what nightmares plagued her sleep… they were washed away with the sun. She suspected that was why Adora was always up at the crack of dawn as well, besides the lifelong habit.

Their perch was one of the best for sunrise-watching: a tiny ornamental balcony outside a window in an abandoned wing. No one could see them through the window – placed too high – and no one could see them from the ground for the same reason. Catra was always good at finding secluded places, and Adora was always good at finding Catra.

The downside was the breeze that lashed right through Catra’s thin clothing, and she found herself burying her face in the jacket collar against the chill. Oil and metal, ozone and copper. The scent hit her like a memory. When they were young, even the coarse standard-issue soap couldn’t wash the smell of the armory off. Adora always wore war like a second skin.

It was different now. Adora was different. There was something floral in the familiar scent, and underlying green like crushed leaves, like a war-zone slowly overgrown.

“You should dress warmer if you’re going to keep coming up here.” Catra startled at Adora’s voice so close. An arm settled tentatively over her shoulder, giving her the choice to go or stay – only Adora ever gave her that – and drew her against Adora’s side. Catra was immediately warmer.

“Why – uh – why would I do that when I’ve got a space heater like you following me around?”

Adora rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “Suit yourself, Catra.”

The sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky with light, with orange and pink and gold. Catra peeked aside, watching the light catch in Adora’s wondering eyes. Catra never saw that in the Fright Zone either. They were changing, and maybe past-Catra would be afraid. Instead she felt like dawn-bright colors were bubbling up inside, unfamiliar in a way that thrilled instead of frightened. She took the risk of snuggling a little closer, earning a quiet laugh from Adora that made Catra’s ears perk.

She had a taste of the sky. She had Adora’s laugh.

Catra was never going to give them up again.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Adora."

Adora nearly tripped over her own feet jerking to face Catra, heat flooding her face. There were a lot of empty grand ballrooms in Brightmoon, which probably saw a lot more use before Hordak decided to turn the entire world into a war zone. The gold leaf was flaking from the fixtures, the tall glass windows coated with a thick later of dust, but they were still beautiful in their own way.

What she didn't expect was to see Catra straighten from leaning against the door - How long had she been there? - and offer Adora her hand. "Didn't take you for a dancer. Wanna show me how it's done, hot stuff?"

If it were anyone else Adora might brush it off as mockery and return with a few jabs of her own, but Catra had that carefully lighthearted expression that - in another time and place - meant that it was an honest offer. It slipped inside Adora's armor. Sometimes Catra felt like an angry stranger and sometimes... sometimes she was Adora's Catra again. Instead of closing the distance Adora held her own hand out.

"Fine, but I'm leading."

"I didn't expect anything else." The eyeroll was audible, but Catra stalked to the center of the floor and took her hand without further argument.

Adora hummed quietly under her breath, twining their fingers together and nudging Catra into the steps of a waltz. Glimmer thought the dance was too boring, but there was a meditative calm and control that let Adora relax. She didn't have to think, she didn't have to do anything but move. It wasn't usually as easy with a partner, but Catra followed with an unerring precision that Adora didn't expect. They spun and turned as easy as breathing. Adora knew this ballroom like the back of her hand by now. She didn't even need to open her eyes to trace out the perimeter, and she was so absorbed in the feeling that she didn't.

"You always were good at leading."

The spell was broken. Adora opened her eyes, and Catra was giving her the weirdest look, on the razor's edge between wistful affection and bitter regret. It was like a fist clenching in Adora's chest. There was nothing she could do about being a reminder of all of Catra's mistakes, but she wanted so dearly to change that. She wanted the world to be simple again.

She didn't respond, didn't give Catra something to argue against.

Instead Adora let herself drop out of perfect posture and pressed closer, winding her arms around Catra's waist, nudging their foreheads together in that way that made a much younger Catra laugh and purr. Adora could feel the moment she surrendered. Catra sank against her like she was waiting for this exact opportunity all along, her arms settling around Adora's shoulders. They swayed back and forth in place to a music only they could hear. They were so close that Catra's quiet rumble vibrated through Adora's chest. She could admit she missed this easy familiarity, this terrain that she knew by heart.

It felt like coming home.

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"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is." Catra crossed her arms disapprovingly, letting her tail twist and turn with open distaste. It was cold and raining so hard that her shoes were soaked from the rain bouncing off the pavement, and of course Adora had to add to this altogether shitty day in her own special way.

"It's... not what you think it is?"

Of course Adora pulled out the puppy eyes. Ever since they were kids she put those baby blues to work when she didn't get her way, and unfortunately for Catra it usually worked. But not this time, definitely not this time. Seriously. The puppy wiggling in Adora's arms was everything Catra hated about dogs: a drooling, whiny furball. Its feet were huge and there was no doubt that the rest of its body would quickly follow suit. What's worse, it was wrapped in Adora's prized red letterman jacket like a blanket. Meanwhile Adora was soaked down to her bones with rain, blonde hair clinging to her cheeks and neck.

She was definitely already attached. Shit.

Catra closed her eyes and took a calming breath. "There's no way we can make that work in our apartment. The landlord will totally throw us out on our asses, Adora."

Adora snorted. "Like Glimmer's mom would ever do that."

"Since when has she ever bent the rules for us?"

"We can at least ask!" Adora's jaw set stubbornly, and Catra could only sigh.

One of Adora's most annoying habits was her tendency to adopt strays whenever she found them. This wasn't even the first time they had this conversation. Just the first time she actually pressed the issue when Catra dug in her heels. Catra looked at the mutt again, trying to figure out what made this one special. As far as she could see it was just a tangle of matted brown fur and warm brown eyes, dripping wet and stinking from the rain. Even as she watched Adora shushed and cooed over the filthy thing. Catra slumped with a groan and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. "I guess we can ask."

She nearly got bowled over by the hug, and hissed quietly at the dog's wet fur soaking into her last clean shirt.

"You're the best, Catra."

"I know." She smirked. Yeah Adora was smiling, but that doesn't mean Catra was gonna grin like a total doofus. "I am the best."

Picking up strays was Adora's most annoying habit, but Catra could clearly remember being one of those strays. She couldn't help but love Adora for her damn nobility despite all the trouble it caused. Catra slung an arm over Adora’s shoulder, pressing a brief kiss to her cheek because she could.

"Let's go home, you two."

“I’m gonna name her Catra.”

“...Don’t push your luck, princess.”

Chapter Text

She-ra shrank back into Adora’s skin and ran a tired hand through her hair. Every muscle in her body ached, cried out for rest. She ignored the plea and pulled a ration bar out of her pack, shoved it into her mouth and tasted nothing.

Half-light rendered the clearing in shadow and deeper shadow, so dense that it felt like a tangible weight. Etheria’s many moons mere phantoms in the shadow of the red-rimmed, black circle of the sun. In the distance she could see flashes of fire through the trees, hear screams and the crackle of Horde weapons. This was Umbra: the shortest month of the Etherian year when the moon eclipsed the sun for a full twenty days. It was a time of dark and cold, and the Horde moved freely due to the superior night vision of their forces.

Adora let out a sigh, her own breath form mist that brushed against her cheeks and left them colder than before.

In the Horde it was never dark. The Horde never slept - there was always a light somewhere, always someone awake. Bright Moon had a more natural sleep schedule, but there were the sentries, and in addition to their massive windows there were the low lights that lined the hallways to keep them navigable at night.

It felt like this night would never end, and it wore her down more than she expected.

“I didn’t think you were a coward, Catra.” It was gratifying to sense the presence pause, the claws hovering just over her throat withdraw. “Didn’t think so.”

“How did you know it was me?”

Adora inhaled deeply. “Smells like you.”

“Wha - are you saying I stink?”

Adora laughed at Catra’s very real indignation. So maybe she was lying, but the reaction was worth it.

“Yeah. You smell like Horde rations. Didn’t you always say never to eat the mystery meat?” Adora did her best to project rolling her eyes in her tone alone, and turned to face Catra. Catra’s eyes caught the light in the darkness blue and amber like twin moons.

Adora wasn’t afraid. Catra had the advantage here, could tear her to pieces while she was floundering without She-ra’s superior senses. Yet she hesitated when she had the chance.

Either exhaustion or darkness made her brave, braver than she ever needed to be with a sword in her hand. Adora inched forward and pressed her forehead against Catra’s. She indulged her impulse further - found Catra’s forearms in the dark, traced with her fingertips from elbow to wrist. Catra stiffened, but didn’t move. Catra was even holding her breath.

When they were young Catra smelled of soft musk like a puppy. Now it was stronger, sharper, with a hint of copper to the sweetness.

“Did you come to kill me again?” Adora’s heart was a heavy, sharp-edged stone in her chest.

She felt Catra exhale slowly, the way she did when she was pushing past pain.

“I’m here to end She-ra. If I kill you that’s just a bonus.”

“I see.” Catra’s warmth was gone before Adora straightened, and Adora’s sword was at the ready but she felt like she already lost.”Come at me, then.”

She could hear the grin in Catra’s voice, but with an edge too bitter to be real. “Let’s dance, princess.”

Chapter Text

She was the Brightmoon Empire's eldest princess.

A child carried from the ashes of the Horde by the warrior empress herself, or so the stories said. The Horde's mark was on her still, in Adora's sharp, controlled movements and her eyes that absorbed every detail as if the ballroom were a battlefield. Rumors said she was a cunning strategist and good with a sword. Utterly different from the younger of the two princesses, who flitted this way and that like a glittery, annoying bug. The young court scholar, Bob? Ben? followed in her wake, shouting and flailing as the younger princess balanced precariously on a statue, which made Adora laugh so hard that Catra could hear her snorting across the room. She still had that same way of throwing her whole body into laughter, clutching her sides and muffling her voice with one hand.

Catra followed their progress through the ball, lingering behind pillars and fidgeting with her tie with increasing frustration. The suit was stolen and given a fumbling attempt at tailoring, and it felt like it was choking her in that moment. If Catra got caught the cook was sure to give her a sound scolding at best, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She half wanted to come out of the shadows and ask Adora outright - Do you remember me? Do you remember when we were best friends? - she cut off the thought with an internal snarl. What about Adora was more worthy of saving than the other Horde orphans? What made her so goddamn special?

The younger princess glanced in Catra's direction a little too long, and Catra darted behind a fucking excessive ornamental fountain to throw off her gaze.

Her every instinct told her danger, even as she couldn't resist that allure. It made the fur on the back of her neck stand on end. Not because she might get caught. Adora made parts of Catra curl and blacken like paper held to flame. She hated it, craved it. The lightness of all her hard layers peeling away was freeing as it was terrifying. Her heart curdled with envy and she didn't even know if it was of Adora or for Adora.

Catra melted more deeply into the shadows, her ears swiveling forward to better catch the sound of Adora's laughter. Perhaps it didn't matter. Either way, it was Adora that taught her how to covet.