Work Text:
"There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours.”
— Jean-Paul Sartre
now;
It sparks on her mind on the most unexpected time.
A small village near Plumeria was in need of supplies, so it was the rebellion’s duty to go and help. Easy, a routine already. Adora would never say it out loud but— some days, she wouldn’t even notice the time passing, the moon setting high and low on the sky and the words that came out of her mouth to strangers she would never see again. Adora— no, She Ra— showed up and there was the joyful cry for the legendary warrior that would save them all. Overwhelming and too much and too much and too —
“Could you give us your blessing, princess?”
She turns, blinks. Two girls, colorful hair and bright smiles, staring at her. And there’s something about it, something she can’t quite name. The way that the short haired one brushes her fingers on the long haired one hands; the way they look at each other and then at her, and then at each other again because it’s like that’s the only thing they can even think to look at. And Adora remembers Glimmer once saying that the She Ra used to heal people, give them blessing and they would never be a victim of anything malicious the world has to offer.
“Sure, of course”, leaves her mouth, but she’s not quite sure how to. Does she uses her sword? Is there the possible danger of giving wings to one of them? Perhaps the hands— yes, that seems about right.
The girls intertwine their fingers and Adora wants to be blind so she wouldn’t have to intrude in something that seems so, so —
What do you call it?
She places her own hand on top of theirs. “I give you my blessing”, she says and they giggle and smile and go on running, holding hands and there’s something, just on the back of her mind on why there’s this strange and weird and crushing feeling at her chest and—
Oh .
Her mouth dries. She doesn’t say it, nor lets herself think about it. Later, when she mentions it to Glimmer, about the two giggling girls that wanted to take their blessing together, it hangs on the air easily.
“They’re probably together and wanna stay like this, like, forever.”
Oh .
Glimmer doesn’t notice.
then;
Catra snores.
And it’s not really something that Adora dislikes, but, days like this, she just wants everything to disappear .
When Catra asked her earlier what had gotten into her, she had shut her mouth and left to training, mumbling something about having to go so fast she couldn’t even remember it. But what could she do? It’s not like these things were normal. If it was, obviously someone would have said something already. And, in a way they had already: when you’re feeling off, shut yourself and train. Don’t say anything to anyone. And that’s what she did, for the whole day — training, and training, and training. Her muscles were sore at the end of the day and her hands were hurting so badly she could barely hold the bar.
When she got back to the dorms area, everyone was already asleep. Catra was, surprisingly, on her own bunk today, probably upset about earlier. And— well, it’s not like there was really something that said she couldn’t sleep without Catra. So, she laid on her own bunk but—
Catra snores . And maybe it’s the fact that they’re not side by side, but it’s not helping Adora fall asleep. So, she does what’s left of her to do: she climbs to the top bunk.
“Scoot over”, she whispers.
“What the fuck , Adora”, Catra half mumbles half whispers, but moves over anyways.
“Shush, don’t say it. You know what happens when Shadow Weaver hears you saying things like that.”
“Well, she can go and fu—” Adora covers her mouth. This close, it’s almost like her eyes were the only source of light in the room. “Jeez, Adora, what’s wrong with your hands?”
Oh— her hands. It’s not that it’s unusual for cadets to have calloused hands —Catra herself has her share— but Adora knows that right now hers has to be one of the worst hands ever, rough and harsh against Catra’s soft lips. She collects her hand, closing her fist but, well, Catra has always been faster than her— so she takes Adora hands on her own and holds between her fingers.
“I was just training.”
Silence spreads between both of them and Catra sighs, squeezing Adora’s hands and maybe— maybe she knows. Because Adora can feel at ease now, more than she was before in her own bed. Catra closes her eyes and it’s unbelievable how fast she can go back on being asleep, fingers still intertwined with Adora’s. Maybe she knows! That some days Adora wakes up and it feels like it’s all for nothing, like everything she had even been and everything she dreamed to be was just a illusion, like there was something missing, some piece she wasn’t seeing right.
Adora takes a little bit longer to sleep. How could she when Catra is right in front of her, snoring lightly and it doesn’t bother her anymore, and yes, yes, this feels right, this piece fits, this piece is going to be here forever— whatever that means, whatever anything means.
Perhaps, they would eventually see better days. Adora shuts her eyes and sleeps with her thumb brushing Catra’s hands, dreaming about mismatched eyes and soft lips.
now;
It’s a forbidden word.
Yes, Adora would have to say it from now and then, given the status that the other one acquired — Horde Lord . It was heavy on her lips, crushing on her thoughts, so Adora just decided to never speak her name out loud again. Yeah, maybe it would work out. Bow, of course, did not like the idea of Adora closing herself on her room after every war meeting and refusing to speak with anyone about it. And, although Adora loves Bow with all her heart, he just—doesn’t get it.
Adora herself doesn’t get it.
She ends up accepting to go spend a few days with his dads after all. They need help with their research and she need something to get her head of— of anything . And, in the last months, learning more about where she came from and the others She Ras that came before her has helped somewhat with the void on her chest. So she studies, and reads, and absorbs every little thing that she can.
It doesn’t help, but she still smiles at George and Lance when they ask if she’s enjoying herself.
“Look”, Bow starts, one night that she’s drowned her face into one of the old maps she found, “I know you don’t wanna talk about it. And it’s up to you. But it’s not healthy to cope with things like that.”
Somehow, among the shiny blonde warrior that it’s inside her, she feels small. Adora opens her mouth, closes it again, and Bow is there every step of the way.
“Do you forget that things happened sometimes?”, she starts. “I mean, feel like forgetting, at least.”
“Go on.”
“It’s just like— it’s so distant. Things were simple at the Fright Zone, and now they’re not. She was my— she was my friend, and now she’s not, and the Horde is evil, and if something changes so much like that how do I know if that stuff really happened? If it wasn’t just my mind being manipulated by Shadow Weaver, or, I don’t know, something, anything .”
Bow changes seats to be next to her.
“Do you feel like it never really happened?”
She stops. She thinks about the girls, caring for someone so much and so badly all you wanna do it’s be with them forever— and she thinks about bad days that didn’t always end badly because she was always there, and that was enough.
“I feel like I lost something I didn’t really know I had.”
“You mean—”
“Yeah.”
“But people don’t have other people.”
Adora sighs.
“I know. But I had something in me, and I don’t have it anymore. And I don’t even know how to name it, but— but I feel like I will never have that again.”
Bow blinks, big eyes looking at her and she’s getting tired of things she can’t name. He gets up, reaches at a box on one of the tables and gives it to Adora.
She opens, staring at the rosy paper.
“My dads say that the answer is always in a book. So, if you didn’t read it, write it.”
“You’re telling me to write a book?”
“Not necessarily. Just to write. I think it’s going to help.”
But help with what? Adora doesn’t has a question . But she accepts it anyways, and Bow stays until he’s drooling on the couch. He leaves and, yeah, maybe she will give it a go. So she starts.
Dear Catra.
now;
Writing, for a matter of fact, helps. At some portion.
There are letters and letters around her room at Bright Moon, some stupid, some that she couldn’t even finish, and all to the same person. Well, not all of them, she did try and write some to Shadow Weaver —even though she is now a prisoner and Adora can go and just say stuff if she wants— but maybe that’s a wound that’s not willing to be touched right now. And yeah, maybe it’s okay— or it will be.
Mermista jokes sometimes that all She Ra does now is writing love letters but— they’re not love letters. They’re just letters . And if they’re addressed to the same person and end all in the same tender way, Adora is going to deal with that later . Not now, when she is too focused on writing another one because, well , it works.
So she is the tiniest pissed off when Bow enters her room, Perfuma at his side, but it washes off when she sees the distressful look on her friend’s faces.
Her sword is already at hand.
“What happened? Are we under attack? I didn’t hear anything!”
“No, no” Perfuma raises her hands. “We’re not being attacked, but—”
“There’s something you should see.”
…
Oh .
There was no letter, no words, no ink running through pages and more pages that could’ve possibly prepared Adora for this. It’s like— like her heart was being ripped of her chest and being fed to whatever creature would enjoy her pain. Like she was inside out, back again being five at the Fright Zone and why is Shadow Weaver so mean to—
Catra, kneeling on the floor, without her mask.
Catra, who doesn’t even look at her, instead, faces the floor, hair untamed without her mask. Her mask . Catra is not wearing it. Instead, it weights on her hands and she can almost see and—
Catra .
“How dare you?”, Glimmer inquires, voice resonating throughout the whole throne room. “Showing here and expecting us to not arrest you on the spot?”
“We don’t even have cells here”, she hears Perfuma mumbles, but she is not listening, now now.
“Look, princess” Catra starts, raises her head, and Adora just, just —
“It’s queen now. But, after what you did, I thought you already knew that.”
Catra doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she looks at Adora’s feet.
“I can’t undo what I did. But I can do different from now on.” She stops, gets up, and Adora is lost trying to understand from where did so much people that look like Catra came. “I stand before you as Catra, former Horde Lord, and as C’yra, queen of Magicats of Halfmoon. They stand with me. And we stand against Horde Prime.”
Glimmer’s hands tremble, and she firms her grip on her father’s staff. Adora can almost see the enormity of the thoughts on her head right now, so much that Adora fears, for the first time in many months, of what her friend could do. And— and she’s five again, at the Fright Zone, and she’s afraid, again, and—
Glimmer looks at her, opens her eyes, really looks at her, and then turns to Catra.
“If I accept it, it's to be understood that your crimes were not forgiven, tolerated in a moment in which we fight a common enemy."
"Yes." She doesn't pause.
"You won't be kept as a prisoner, but you will be watched, closely, given your history, if you decide to stay within Bright Moon lands since Halfmoon is completely destroyed."
"Yes."
Adora wants to go, step forward and do as Glimmer once did for her, take responsibility for Catra but her whole body aches and burns and remember the Catra that she knows now, that would never be fine with it. And, after all this time, she understands it too.
She stays still, hands gripping her sword.
"The rebellion accepts your allegiance."
It's a mess of shouting and screaming because how could Glimmer ever allow it to happen and thank the moons that now the magicats have a place to stay and rebuild themselves and—
Catra looks at her. Blinks, slowly, and then turns. Guards follow her, alongside Glimmer, and—
Adora doesn't move, doesn't breathe, because how could Catra look at her, after all this time and, and—
It still feels like she's not seeing her.
then;
Scorpia shows up in Bright Moon a few weeks after the portal incident.
Everything is still fragile . Glimmer can’t sit on her mother’s throne, Etheria is in distress with everything that happened and Adora can still feel the corrupted face against her fist when she closes her eyes. Everything it’s fragile, it’s on the edge, so she thanks the universe for a moment of peace one night after the coronation Glimmer asks her and Bow to have a sleepover.
And it’s everything she didn’t even know she needed.
That is, until a guard asks for Glimmer.
At first, they think it’s just another village that the Horde took and they should just reunite the Princess Alliance to discuss the matter. But then Adora sees a guard holding— trying to hold— Scorpia, and her mind goes blank. Is she here too? What happened? What caused Scorpia to come here, all the way from the Fright Zone. It goes fast — the pledge, the allegiance, the word vomit about everything that is wrong with the Horde and how Scorpia can’t even think about going back.
Adora wants to, but she doesn’t ask. Her questions remain strictly about the Horde’s plans, Hordak’s whereabout and Entrapta still being missing. Her heart aches, but she doesn’t ask. And, when Glimmer concludes that Scorpia means no harm, she lets the guards take her to one of the rooms and sends a message to the other princesses for a meeting tomorrow.
Adora’s back aches all night and she can’t close her eyes to sleep, but she doesn’t ask.
The answer for the question she hadn’t made comes the morning after, when Adora is the first to get to the reunion room. Scorpia is there, a guard on the door, and air gets heavy.
“Good morning”, she greets.
Adora looks for her chair. “Uh, morning.”
Nothing.
“Do you guys always meet in this room?” she asks, looking at the high walls. “Oh, man, it’s so cool.”
“Yeah, pretty much, for war related topics.”
“That’s really nice. All of the princess are coming?”
“Nice.”
Adora looks at the table, the chairs, the windows— everything but Scorpia.
“You didn’t ask me about Catra.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I thought you were going to ask about her”, she starts, “but you didn’t.”
“I— I don’t know if I— She is my enemy.”
Light burns the sculpted marble the floor, but Adora doesn’t notice.
“I remember saying it to you once, you know. That even when you’re trying to kill each other, you still have a bond. I can’t comprehend it. You left her. She didn’t want to go with you.” Adora opens her mouth, ready to say that she did not left her behind but— yeah, she did. And, slowly, she realizes that it’s what she had to do in that moment— and she can’t be sorry about it. “She’s too far gone now. I can’t— I can’t see her anymore. And I guess I just thought that if there was someone that would be capable of making her stop, it would be you.”
Her heart sinks on her chest all the way to the floor.
“She made her choices, Scorpia. If she’s going to deflect, she has to do it on her own.” And her words taste bitter on her mouth, head spinning, until Bow comes in, then Glimmer, then all the other princesses, and Adora has something to occupy her mind.
But, when she lays on bed at night, she hopes that her own words become true.
now;
Adora doesn’t know what is it, but it’s late. The moons are high on the sky, illuminating her room. She looks at her sword, reflecting the moonlight, and her fingertips brush the blade. If she tilts her head a little bit to the right, she can see her own reflection, but she figures that’s not the best right now. Because if she tempts to see herself right now, she might lose courage, lose whatever is driving her into waking up at dawn to just stalk who she shouldn’t be stalking.
Stalk is a strong word. Checking on. Yes , checking on an ex friend. That’s what she’s doing.
She gets up, hands on the door knob and—
Stops, right on the spot.
She should give Catra space, right? After everything that has happened, maybe that’s where she was mistaken, couldn’t it be? In insisting when Catra had laid her word, in trying to protect when she didn’t want to be protected. Perhaps that’s where they were lacking— maybe Catra just needed some time, her time, away from Adora and everything she represented.
Maybe, if Adora had given it to her, she could have avoided everything that came after.
No —She remembers her own words to Catra and then Scorpia.
Catra had made her choice— now, it was up to her to live with it.
And maybe she couldn’t.
Adora breathes deeply, looks at the door, and she’s just about to go back to her bed when she hears something— someone— walking outside. And again, years of listening to each other snore, sleep, walk, train—Adora just knows .
She’s out of the room before she can even see it.
And Catra is nowhere to be found.
So she walks, and maybe she should go someone high, because that’s where Catra goes when she’s upset and in need to think, but after today would she really go out of her way to do this, knowing that if one of the guards saw her Glimmer would have her head? Maybe she hadn’t change, maybe the whole Magicat things were just a play, and they were being played and it was just a stupid Horde plan and—
She stops on a corner. A few feet away from a bedroom door, Catra stares at her, mismatched eyes glowing in the moonlight.
Adora’s words get stuck on her chest, because Catra is here, right here, and with everything that has happened she should take opportunity and interrogate, arrest, but all she can think about is why Catra’s hair tuffs are tucked in and hidden and how many scars she can see now up close.
“Hey, Adora.”
And why, just why there’s this feeling on her chest about two girls wanting to spend the rest of their times together and away of everything that is evil and she just wants to press her eyes and never ever have to think anything nearly close to this and—
“Glimmer asked you to keep an eye on me, didn't she? Eh, figure things wouldn’t be that easy.”
“What—”
Catra raises her hands. “I’m unarmed, I just got thirsty and then couldn't find my room. But I found it. Not going to to anything. You can report that to her.
Adora blinks. “Glimmer didn’t send me.”
Catra arms fall on the side of her body. “Then why are you here?”
“I can go if that’s what you prefer.”
And silence, again. Catra switches her weight to the side, presses her lips, and she’s not really looking at Adora, but still .
“It isn’t.”
" Oh ."
She tries to remember how to breathe.
"This is Scorpia's room." she points.
"Glimmer thought it would be better if there was someone from the Alliance watching me. Scorpia, surprisingly, didn't volunteer, but Glimmer asked her anyways."
Adora looks up. This Catra— talking when she doesn't have to, explaining and engaging— maybe she doesn't know the person standing next to her, even if her hands are itching to touch Catra's hair like she did in the Fright Zond when they were kids.
Maybe it was, in fact, mistake coming here.
"I should go back to my room, I think."
Catra looks back. Adora waits for Catra to turn back and enter her room but— she doesn't. Instead, she looks at the large windows, the sky without stars and back at Adora.
"I lied."
Adora's heart is pounding of her chest, breathing getting heavy and she should've brought her swords because it's Catra and she—
"I wasn't thirsty. I just couldn't sleep."
Never knows what to expects when it comes to Catra.
"Me too", she breathes.
"I got your letter."
And— oh . Adora's cheeks burn and thinks back to the dozens and dozens of letters she had written, burned, tossed in the rivers of Bright Moon and cried upon, but she never— never —had sent even one of them. How—she wonders, eyes scanning the room looking for anything— did Catra got her hands on one?
"I'm not— I don't— I don't wanna be your enemy, Adora."
Then why , she wants to scream, why did you turn the world upside down for it?
None of that leaves her mouth.
But she looks past her anger and thinks back at Catra begging her to stay on the portal, letting her scape so Shadow Weaver wouldn't erase her memory and the way that Catra held her hand, desperate not to lose her again, at the Beacon.
Yeah. Maybe Catra wasn't trying to be her enemy all this time.
She looks up, really looks and she almost wishes that Catra could look at her, really look at her and see that— for last, she understands. Or at least, she's trying to.
"I know."
Adora can easily step forward, if she wants. She can go and say everything that's stuffed down on her chest and Catra maybe I've been this thing that here they call "in love" with you like, since we were kids, but then everything happened and ruined everything — and she can't do it again. So she takes her space, closes her hands and that's it, for now.
"This morning, I could almost feel that you were going to say something, at some time."
Catra hugs herself, arms covered in scars— by Shadow Weaver and Adora is sick when she concludes that she was responsible for some, too.
"I was.", she says.
"But you didn't."
"I didn't."
A pause.
"Why?"
And Adora is ruined.
"I knew you could do it."
All of their fights and encounters since the sword passes through Adora's mind, every single time that Adora claimed she was protecting Catra, and Catra fought back. All the times that Adora was worried and trying because Catra is someone she cares about, jeez, after all that has happened, because that's what you do when you love and care about people, Adora, Glimmer had said.
Catra lowers her head, hair on her eyes, and comes back with a ghost of a smile on her lips, turning back to her door.
"Goodnight, Adora."
Adora bites the inside of her cheeks and turns, light steps on the marble. She hears Catra mumble something along the lines of such a sap , and she's smiling and—
And maybe things weren't ruined, after all.
then;
Adora walks through the enormous corridors of the Fright Zone, looking at every corner, every inch and fraction of space that Catra could be hidden, but she finds nothing. The last stop is the dorms, and she is quite surprised to find Adora sitting on her bed, covering herself with the blue Horde blanket, all alone.
"Catra?"
She lowers the covers and Catra hisses.
"Catra, it's okay. It's just me."
Catra has tears on her eyes, and Adora feels the urge to never let any dumb face near Catra ever again.
She looks up.
"It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other."
Catra looks, blinks, enormous bright eyes and it feels like forever and ever and ever.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
And Catra puts her hand on Adora's chest, right where her heart is. Because this is what this is—a promise, from the heart, that they will be together, forever.