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Adora’s more than a little shocked when, instead of Scorpia, Catra strolls toward her from out of the Whispering Woods.
“Catra,” Adora breathes. “What—I mean, uh, hi.”
She shifts from her right foot to her left, fidgeting with the hilt of her sword and resisting the urge to pull the blade out of the ground. She wants to hold it, feel its steady weight in her hand, but she doesn’t; she knows how threatening that would look, especially to Catra, of all people. “I, uh, didn’t know I’d be meeting you.” She tries to smile, but her face feels stiff and the muscles in her cheeks ache, like it’s a completely foreign thing for her mouth to do. She tries not to picture how awkward she must look.
Catra crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, glowering up at Adora. “Why’s that, She-Ra?” she taunts. “You think I can’t handle a little diplomacy?”
Adora stiffens, feels her face redden. They’re already veering off into dangerous territory.
A week ago, Bright Moon received a message from Entrapta claiming she, Scorpia, and Catra had defected from the Horde and wished to negotiate with the Rebellion to trade intel in exchange for protection. Angella agreed to send She-Ra, while Scorpia was supposed to stand in for Catra and Entrapta.
“No, that’s not what I mean at all; I just didn’t think you’d really care about the boring details since, well,” she hesitates, trying to filter herself under the weight of Catra’s glare. “Since you always skipped out on meetings before.”
Catra scoffs. “Yeah, cause when you were at the Horde I got invited to so many meetings.”
“You did!”
“Yeah, by you. Not by anyone important who wanted me there because they thought I mattered. You got to go, and you asked me out of—what? Pity?”
Adora blanches. She’d had no idea Catra took her offers as anything but genuine. “No, of course not,” she insists. “I never pitied you, Catra. I just wanted to spend time with you. You know I hated those meetings as much as you did.”
“That’s the thing, Adora,” Catra snaps, slowly stalking closer to her. “I didn’t hate them. I wanted to go.”
“Wha—then why…?” Adora trails off, dropping her hands to her sides and watching Catra, utterly confused.
“Why didn’t I go with you all those times you offered?” Catra laughs, sharply, contempt making her look so, so bitter. “Because I know when I’m not wanted.”
Adora crosses her arms. “What are you talking about?” she asks, defensive. “I wanted you there!”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
This conversation’s not going how Adora planned. Today is supposed to be her chance to fix things—to get Catra to agree to work with the Rebellion and begin mending what’d shattered between them. It’s not supposed to be about reopening old wounds and watching them bleed out.
Before Adora can backtrack, try to apologize, do anything to save the conversation, Catra beats her to it. “Know what? Never mind. I don’t wanna talk about the Fright Zone right now.”
Adora waits, though, still weary. It’s not like Catra to let go of a grudge easily. “Since you know me so well, best friends for the last decade and all that, how come you’re so surprised I didn’t let Scorpia or Entrapta handle this for me?”
That catches Adora off-guard, and she laughs, loud and a little hysterical. “Yeah, no, you’re right,” she agrees. “I should’ve known.”
Catra smirks and uncrosses her arms. “You really should’ve.” She hasn’t moved any closer to Adora since she lurked like she was about to pounce—but not in the playful way she used to. Predatorily.
Now, though, when Adora steps closer, Catra just watches her. Adora can’t quite read her mood, even though she’s seen Catra in pretty much every emotional state possible. After realizing that Catra has always cared more about Horde politics than she let on, Adora’s afraid she doesn’t know Catra as she’d thought.
Still, Catra lets Adora close some of the distance between them, letting her guard down just the slightest bit.
Progress.
“Though I don’t know why I’m shocked that you’re still as dense as ever.”
Adora’s mouth falls open in mock-outrage. “Hey, I’m not dense!”
Catra laughs, sudden and high-pitched, breaking in the middle.
It’s Adora’s favorite laugh from Catra. Not her sarcastic one that’s deep, slow, and mocking—the only kind Adora’s gotten to hear since they were trapped in the Crystal Castle, when Catra got caught up watching their projected memories.
Adora moves unconsciously closer to the sound, to Catra, who lets her with a teasing look on her face.
“Yeah, sure. You’re not dense at all. Except for the whole, ‘Oh, Catra, I’m so sorry I left you alone in the Fright Zone to deal with Shadow Weaver while I was off making new best friends, but also, why won’t you come with me?’ thing.” Even though Catra is doing her best Adora impression, the deep-voiced mimicry she’s always used to make fun of Adora, it cuts deeper than when Catra dug her claws into Adora’s back in the battle at Bright Moon.
“I didn’t leave to replace you! I left because I finally realized the Horde is destroying innocent lives.”
This isn’t a petty grievance; this is years of friendship suddenly, irrevocably shattered by realizing neither of them are as in-tune with the other as they’ve always thought. This is about feeling abandoned and feeling betrayed, and not knowing who’s been hurt more or how to mend their wounds.
Adora hates that she’s made Catra feel like someone who could ever be replaced, but she can’t let herself feel guilty for leaving behind their life of violence and evil, or for letting Catra go when she refused to leave with Adora.
All Adora can do now is restore the shattered trust between them and prove to Catra that she wants her back in her life. She closes her eyes and breathes in, feeling herself shrink back down to her normal height as She-Ra fades. Catra relaxes, now that there’s no She-Ra standing in Adora’s place.
“Catra, I know things are messed up between us right now.”
Catra snorts. “Really,” she says dryly. “What made you think that?”
Adora rubs the bridge of her nose, torn between irritation and the urge to laugh because—despite what she’s trying to say—this feels more normal, more like Catra, than Adora’s gotten in months.
“Can you just shut up and be serious for, like, five seconds please?” Catra grins but stays quiet. Adora looks into her two-tone eyes and says, “I know you’re hurt that I left without you. And you know I’m hurt that you think I stopped caring about you, or that I personally betrayed you by leaving. If I had stayed with the Horde after finding out what they really do, it would’ve killed me. I left for myself, and I won’t let you make me feel guilty about it anymore.”
Catra watches Adora in silence, listening intently, her eyes narrowed but not angry, and her features relaxed, with none of the tension she’s been wearing like Shadow Weaver’s ever-present mask since Adora left the Horde. Adora wrinkles her nose against the telltale burning that means she’s about to cry. Her eyes start to water, but she forges ahead with her speech.
“I’m sorry things got so messed up between us. I never wanted to lose you when I decided to leave the Fright Zone. All those times I asked you to come with me, I was being completely genuine. I’ve missed you like crazy, Catra. Being apart for the first time made me realize that I…” Adora looks away from Catra, breaking eye contact for the first time in what feels like hours. She looks up at the trees above them, trying to ignore Catra’s burning stare. “I’m in love with you.”
When Adora stops, she’s breathing as heavily as if she’d just fought off an army of Entrapta’s evil bots. She places a hand on her hip, above the hilt of her sword, itching again to hold it. She digs her fingers into her side instead.
“I know you don’t think of me like that. I know it’ll never happen. But I can’t keep it in anymore. It’s hard enough not talking to you; I can’t lie to you now that I get to.”
Catra scoffs, making Adora finally look back over at her, just in time to see her throwing up her hands in irritation. “Seriously? Are you actually joking right now?”
Adora blushes. “Um, yes…? Uh, I mean no,” she says, not sure what Catra wants to hear.
Catra closes her eyes like she’s put-out by Adora. When she opens them, she has the same look of determination she wears whenever she does something risky behind Shadow Weaver’s back.
She stalks closer to Adora, closing the distance between them, not stopping until she’s so close Adora feels Catra’s warm breath against her own chapped lips. Adora’s breath catches in her throat.
“I’ve been in love with you for years,” Catra says, her voice so low it’s practically a purr. “Are you really that dense?”
“What? Y-you—” Adora cuts herself off when Catra touches her face, first stroking her cheek then reaching behind Adora’s head to wrap her ponytail around her finger. Adora watches, wide-eyed and as rigid as her sword.
She smirks and pulls Adora’s face down to hers by gently tugging on her ponytail. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she whispers.
“Okay,” Adora breathes.
Catra closes her eyes and presses their lips together. It’s softer than Adora would’ve imagined, but just as passionate as she expected.
When they pull away, Adora stammers, “I thought—I didn’t think you wanted me like this.”
“Did you ever think about what we really were to each other? Did you even notice that you were the only person in the entire Horde I’d let touch me? Who I cried in front of? Who I wanted to be around?”
“Of course I noticed! I thought it was because we had been friends for so long.”
“Um, what about Princess Prom? We hadn’t even been talking then. Did you really think that was platonic?”
Adora blushes remembering Catra in that suit, leading Adora around the dance floor, arms around Adora’s waist, dipping her. She looks at Catra now, the same as Adora remembered during all those months apart. Warm and real and stubborn as ever.
“Come with me. Please. I know you don’t like princesses, but Bright Moon is so much better than the Fright Zone.”
“You really think I would fit in better somewhere with ‘Bright’ in the name than somewhere with ‘Fright’ in it?”
“You’re not as scary as you think, you know.”
Catra whips her head around and glares at Adora, her pupils practically slits. “Uh, just because I can’t turn into an eight-foot warrior lady doesn’t mean I’m not intimidating.”
Adora laughs. “Weren’t you standing on your tippy-toes when we kissed?”
“Shut up,” Catra says, groaning and shoving Adora. She almost crashes into a tree, but Catra catches her at the last second by wrapping her tail around Adora’s wrist and pulling her back up. She pulls harder than necessary, and they end up nose-to-nose.
“Hey, Adora.”
Adora grins and presses her forehead against Catra’s. “So is that a yes?” she whispers.
“What?” Catra’s voice is deeper than usual.
“Will you stay with me in Bright Moon?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If I have to bring Scorpia and Entrapta back with me.”
Adora huffs and shoves Catra gently. “Don’t be a jerk,” she chides. Catra shrugs, unfazed, and lets Adora pull her into another kiss. Just as Catra melts into it, Adora pulls away and walks out of the forest, leaving Catra there, flustered.
“Hey!” she squeaks, walking faster than usual to catch up with Adora, who’s standing in front of the gate, cackling.