Chapter Text
Students at the Royal Fire Nation Academy rise at dawn, with the sun. It’s been like this ever since the academy was founded some 600 years ago, and it’s been like this ever since Adora enrolled at age 4. That doesn’t mean she ever gets used to it, though. The morning gong sounds again and Adora contemplates the consequences she would have to suffer if she just stayed here, in bed. In the end, the choice is made for her, in the form of a heavy weight plopping down on her abdomen.
“Oof—Catra, do you want me dead?” Adora laughs, a little breathless as she pulls her closest friend at the academy off her stomach and down next to her, on the bed. Catra looks like she’s thinking about it, a slow grin spreading out over her features.
“If I really wanted you dead, I’d have let you sleep in,” she says. “We have lessons from Shadow Weaver today, remember?” Adora lets a few expletives slip past her tongue and sits up.
“You’re right. If I’m late again, she’ll have my head.”
“Hm, I don’t know,” Catra says as she watches Adora slip into her pants and long-sleeved tunic, fastening the collar before lifting the armored breastplate over her shoulders. “We both know your Shadow Weaver’s favorite.” Adora fastens the belt buckle around her middle and checks the dark cloth that hangs down her thighs. It’s made the same way as her breast and shoulder plating: chainmail rings, linked together and lining the fabric, giving the armor a familiar weight while also enabling her to keep moving fast.
“That’s not true,” Adora replies as she slips on her boots and armguards. She looks up at Catra. “We’re both her top students.” Adora walks over to the mirror, ignoring Catra’s huff as she carefully smooths her hair back into a high ponytail. Her eyes glide down her reflection and she feels pride in the sharp, dark red uniform with the golden details. It makes her feel strong and powerful, like the Fire Nation itself.
For all that Shadow Weaver’s lessons are harsh and absolutely exhausting, Adora revels in repeating the stances that feel as familiar to her as breathing. Her fire is scorching, red hot but completely controlled, a difference of night and day when she glances over to Catra and sees her friend’s wild blue fire, ripping away from her fists in rough bursts. They all move in tandem, Adora and Catra, together with the other people in their small group: Lonnie, Rogelio and Kyle, the children of the generals in the personal council of the Fire Lord. Their combined, rhythmical bursts of fire heat up the training hall and Adora feels the sweat roll down her temples as she continues the movements.
Shadow Weaver simply watches, with piercing yellow eyes above the red cloth that obscures most of her face. She’s the most mysterious person Adora knows, despite being a daily fixture in her life. They say she found Adora and Catra in the most remote places in the Fire Nation and chose them, as the two potential heirs to the throne of Fire Lord Hordak, based solely on their firebending talent. They say she once felled an army of Earth Kingdom soldiers, all on her own. They say she got her firebending from the dragons themselves. Punch, punch, low kick. Adora follow through the motions fluidly and tries to clear her head. They can say a lot of things, but at the end of the day, Shadow Weaver is still just their mentor.
She walks throughout the room with purpose, correcting the stances of everyone except Catra and Adora, who feels a flash of pride at that. Shadow Weaver observes the two of them for a moment, the bursts of Adora’s bright red and Catra’s flashing blue flames.
“Catra,” she speaks in her low voice. “Your form is adequate. But your flame is too large, uncontrolled. Pay more attention to your breathing. It is the basis of your firebending.” Catra’s answer comes in an annoyed huff, the breath streaming from her nostrils like steam, and Adora struggles to keep her facial expression neutral. She knows exactly what that puff of smoke means, and in how much trouble Catra would be had she expressed her irritation in words.
Training is over in a flash, as far as Adora is concerned. The exercises calm her down, no matter what is on her mind. And their sparring matches, outside on the wide terrace in the garden of the palace make her feel positively giddy, even if Catra is the only one who can really match her in a fight. Now they’re sitting in the high noon sun, Catra and Adora and their little group of classmates, drinking water and wiping the sweat from their brows before they have to go on to their weapons training.
Adora grabs the bottle from Catra’s hand, impatient, and swallows a gulp with a grin as Catra punches her arm. She retaliates by tilting the bottle over her head, wasting a little stream of water on Catra’s wild curls.
“Hey!” her friend yells, swatting at Adora’s arms in an effort to stop the assault. Adora just lifts her arm a little higher, tilting the bottle again until Catra takes matters into her own hands and just pushes her over, into the grass. She’s on Adora in an instant, pushing her arms down to the earth and plucking the bottle from her grasp. With a wicked grin she pours the remainder of its contents over Adora’s face, which is contorted into a carefree smile as giggles pour from her lips.
The sound of someone clearing their throat nearby is what eases Catra’s grip on Adora’s wrists, as she slides off Adora into the grass and they both look up at Shadow Weaver. Despite most of it being concealed, the disdain is clearly visible on her face.
“Adora, can I speak to you for a moment?” Adora glances at Catra, looking as surprised as she feels, the water still dripping from her hair and down the bloodred headpiece that frames her face. Slowly, she gets to her feet and wipes the water from her face and the dirt and grass from her uniform, a far cry from the put together soldier she resembled this morning.
Still Adora straightens her spine, puffs up her chest and clasps her hands behind her back, the way she’s supposed to do. “Of course, Shadow Weaver.” Her teacher doesn’t say anything more as she turns around and walks back to the shaded halls of the palace, Adora trailing in her footsteps.
After the harsh sunshine beating down on her, the coolness radiating from the dark stones below her feet is a reprieve. Adora heaves a small sigh, keeps her posture and looks at Shadow Weaver, waiting for her to speak.
“You and Catra will be sent on a mission,” Shadow Weaver says, after a while. She’s looking past Adora, at her friends in the garden. “Fire Lord Hordak’s orders. Lieutenant General Scorpia will inform you of the details after your training session.” She falls silent again, her golden eyes shifting the only sign of some sort of inner turmoil. Then, they meet Adora’s. “You are my brightest pupil,” Shadow Weaver says. Adora opens her mouth to protest, because Catra is just as good as she is, but— “Not just in your talent. You feel as comfortable in your fire as any master.” Adora closes her mouth and nods. “I want you to trust in that,” Shadow Weaver says, softly but intently, like she’s telling a secret. “Trust your inner fire. Use it as an extension of yourself.” Adora nods again.
“I will,” she answers, a little confused. “I always do.” The skin around Shadow Weaver’s eyes smooths out as she nods.
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Dismissed.” Adora smiles back at her in the way she imagines Shadow Weaver is smiling beneath the cloth, confidential and somewhat intimate, before bowing deeply to her teacher and joining the others outside.
***
“What did she want?” Catra asks as Adora rejoins their group. She’s just in time—Catra had been seconds away from urging the others to move on to their weapons training. Adora smiles a sheepish smile and just like that, the annoyance Catra felt at being left out from this private conversation flows from her mind, and her lips turn into a smile again.
“Nothing. Just some stuff about my firebending,” her friend says. Catra rolls her eyes in what she hopes doesn’t come off as annoyed, because she’s not. Or maybe she is a little, but just at Shadow Weaver.
“Right,” Catra replies. “Because you really need that extra help, huh?” She bumps their shoulders together as they walk the cool halls of the palace. Adora snorts.
“See, I told you I wasn’t Shadow Weaver’s favorite,” she says. “She corrects us both.”
“Yeah, only she tells you in private. Me, she embarrasses in front of the lot of them.” Catra covertly motions to Rogelio, Kyle and Lonnie, rounding the corner some distance ahead of them.
“So she uses a different approach,” Adora counters, wearing a lopsided smirk. “Maybe she just figured out that threatening your reputation works as your biggest motivator.”
“That’s not true!” Catra opposes, indignant.
“What, you deny your compulsive need to be better than me?”
Catra quirks a grin. “No. Because I am better than you.” Another snort from Adora, and a soft punch to her shoulder.
“Yeah, sure,” she says, her blue eyes shining with joy. “Keep dreaming, Catra.” The two firebenders are still grinning as they enter the hall used for specialized weapons training.
In front of the two Fire Nation banners that cover parts of the red brown wooden paneling stands Scorpia, former Lieutenant General in the Fire Nation Army and weapons specialist. She’s tall and broad-shouldered, her white hair styled in a tight topknot and her dark eyes on the five of them as they filter into the room. The walls on both her sides are lined with an array of weapons from the different nations: clubs and staffs with giant tiger shark teeth attached to them from the Water Tribes; heavy war hammers, delicate bows and a shelf filled with daggers from the Earth Kingdom; all shimmering in the candle light, but still not that impressive-looking in face of the vast majority of Fire Nation weapons in the room. Catra’s eyes glide over the army issued long swords, both two handed and single handed. Then past the katanas, the twin blades, the hook swords, the curved sables, a broad sword and a collection of spears in the far corner of the room. A whip in between the shiny blades catches her eye and briefly, Catra hopes that’s what they’ll get to work with today.
There are no Air Nomad weapons, because the Air Nomads are pacifist cowards who hide away far up on their mountains, probably filling the day with meditating and lazing around. Though no nation or place on earth could weigh up against the Fire Nation, Catra thinks she might respect the Air Nation the least. She takes her place next to Adora, matching her stance and puffing up her chest as they wait for Scorpia to begin the class.
The Lieutenant General introduces them to the Han sword, a by all means mediocre weapon. It originated in the Earth Kingdom a couple hundred years ago and was adopted by the Fire Nation military some years later—the history lesson about the weapon in question is the most boring part of the class, which Catra traditionally spends staring through the shutters at the garden outside, at the mats on the floor or at Adora, who is always paying attention, coming up with ways in which she can get the jump on her best friend when they spar.
Catra is observing how the daylight hits the gold-plated headpiece in Adora’s ponytail when Scorpia suddenly, roughly clears her throat and looks at her directly. Instinctively Catra straightens her spine and focuses her attention.
“Catra, let’s start with you.” Scorpia throws her a sword and Catra catches it expertly. “Get in your stance.” With her years of sword fighting experience, Catra’s feet slide into their positions easily. Her left one in front of her right one, a considerable space between them as she angles her body sideways. Standing like this makes her a smaller a target and gives her ample space to slash, thrust parry or block. With a confident smirk, as she gets used to the weight and the balance of the sword in her hand, Catra waits on Scorpia to give her an opponent.
Eventually, she decides on Lonnie, who Catra knows relies on her bending way more than any traditional Fire Nation weapons. The girl takes position opposite of her and with glee, Catra notes the slight unease with which she holds the sword.
Then Scorpia says “begin,” and from that moment on it’s no holds barred. Catra zeroes in on the weaknesses of Lonnie’s stance and thrusts her sword forward, aiming at the right side of her abdomen. Lonnie parries, angling Catra’s sword away, but she’s too slow in retaliating and before she can even assume an offensive stance, Catra is already attacking again; this time swinging at her legs. Lonnie jumps, but Catra follows through the movement and swivels on one leg, sticking the other out and sweeping Lonnie’s legs out from under her right as she lands. With a yell, Lonnie falls on her butt. Catra jumps to her feet quickly and plants the tip of her sword on Lonnie’s chest, pushing down slightly.
“Do you surrender?” Catra asks, as is expected of her. It has to do with the rules of the Fire Nation’s extensive martial arts tradition, in which skill and honor hold equally high positions. She raises an eyebrow at her opponent, who still hasn’t answered. Lonnie looks absolutely pissed, breathing in forcefully, causing the sword to dig even deeper into her expanding chest and Catra thinks she might just say no and accept the consequences. Scorpia intervenes before any of them can find out, grabbing Catra’s sword hand over the hilt.
“Good job,” she says. “Alright, Adora and Rogelio, you’re up.” Scorpia smirks as she hands them the sword. It’s no secret that Adora’s as good with weapons as she is with bending, and Rogelio is the best one out of all of them once he’s holding a blade in his hand. Catra takes a seat on the floor next to Kyle, who’s sitting against the wall, to watch.
“Move over,” she tells him as she squints. The sunlight falls through the open windows into the room, directly into her eyes. Kyle nods and quietly shuffles away as Catra takes his place, and folds her legs.
Her eyes stay on Adora the whole fight, maybe even throughout the duration of the class. She follows her friend’s movements like a hawk: the way she moves, flowing from offense to defense and back again as if she were a waterbender; her technique and how she uses the sword; and maybe most of all, the look of utter determination in her eyes. It’s one she probably often wears herself, Catra thinks. She and Adora are alike in a lot things, after all. It’s why they get along so well.
Two hours later, their group of five is lined up in front of Scorpia again, this time sweaty and slightly hunched from the exertion. “Before I dismiss you for today, I have an order from the Fire Lord to relay.” This catches everyone’s attention and like an invisible wave rolling through the room, they simultaneously straighten their backs. There is an abundance of reports, newspapers and images from the campaign in the east, the victories and conquered cities of the Earth Kingdom being documented in excruciating detail for the home front. There’s not so much coming directly from the Fire Lord himself, though, making this instance a welcome deviation from the pattern. Catra is filled with a need to succeed, at whatever it is Scorpia is about to tell them. She won’t let Fire Lord Hordak down. “The five of you will be sent to a coastal Earth Kingdom village where an underground resistance is causing trouble for our forces,” Scorpia says, her eyes gliding over the five of them. “The main objective of this mission is to make sure the harbor becomes fully operational by taking away the constant thread of sabotage. Adora will run point, so make sure to listen to what she has to say.” The little pang of jealousy in her chest goes paired with a surge of pride and with a grin, Catra punches Adora’s shoulder, mouthing ‘nice’. Adora returns her smirk and stands up a little straighter. “You will get additional information before you leave,” Scorpia says. “Dismissed.”
Immediately after bowing to Scorpia and leaving the room, Adora grabs Catra’s hand and pulls her along, away from the others, back to the garden. The air is hot and sticky in the sunshine, but sitting in the grass, in the shade below the large oak tree feels perfect. Catra lets herself really feel the warmth and briefly revels in the way her inner flame responds to it. She loves the summer for this exact reason—there’s no other time when it burns this brightly.
“So,” Adora says, as she looks at her hands, that are fidgeting with little blades of grass. “Are you looking forward to the mission? It’ll be our first time outside the Fire Nation.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Catra answers. “I can’t wait to kick some rebel butt. I feel like I’ve been cooped in here and forced to go easy for too long.”
“Go easy?” Adora asks with a raised eyebrow. “You never go easy on me.” Catra just shrugs.
“You know what I mean. Kyle or any of the others aren’t exactly challenging opponents.” Adora snorts.
“That’s true,” she says. “I guess it’ll be nice to not have to hold back, huh?” Adora’s eyes are twinkling in the sunlight as she shares a secretive smile with Catra. A warm breeze tickles a few strands of her loose hair against her face and Catra turns towards it. She’s never been to the Earth Kingdom before, but she imagines it can’t come close to this. Briefly, she thinks about that as much as she can’t wait to go on this mission, she also can’t wait for it to be over and to be back home again, where it’s just the two of them against the world.