Work Text:
Adora swung her legs back and forth as she sat on the edge of the balcony. It felt familiar, like those days she spent high above the Fright Zone with Catra. But it was different now of course. There wasn't a junk filled wasteland laid out before her. There was the Whispering Woods. There wasn't rusted metal digging into her hands. There was smooth marble against her skin.
Brightmoon was not the Fright Zone, but somedays...
Adora sighed, resting her forehead against the cool banister above her. It was dark now.
Bow and Sea Hawk and Swift Wind were all safe and sound in their rooms. She should feel better knowing that all of her friends were safe. That, once she figured out the truth about Mara's weapon, they would all be safe.
This would all be over.
Unless she messed it up. Again.
Like she messed everything up.
Your best isn't good enough.
Glimmer's words rang through Adora's head like steel war drums. Everytime she thought about them, it stung and the pit in her stomach grew heavier. And she believed it a little bit more.
Hadn't that always been the truth? Adora had never been good enough. Not as she was, anyways.
Back in the Fright Zone, kind and loyal Adora hadn't been good enough. So she became good soldier Adora and Shadow Weaver started being a little less unkind. In the Rebellion, former Horde soldier Adora hadn't been good enough. So she became She-Ra and people started to love and care for her.
When she had been in the Horde, Adora had thought that she was at least good enough for Catra—as herself, as Adora—but she had clearly been wrong about that.
And she had thought that here, in Brightmoon, Adora as Adora had been enough for Bow and for... Well, for Glimmer.
Adora was wrong about that too, it seemed.
Adora hadn’t realized that she was crying until she heaved in a deep, choked sob. She bent in on herself, pressing her hand to her mouth to muffle it. It was a habit. Maybe no one here would judge her for crying, but in the Horde, that had been a weakness. Even now, she wasn't sure if she could reconcile with the idea that it wasn't.
She was wrong about everything. Always. She was wrong to think she could help the Rebellion. She was wrong to think that she was doing good. She was wrong to take the sword and claim the identity of She-Ra.
She was wrong to think that anyone could ever care about her the way she cared about them.
Catra hated her. Glimmer hated her. It was only a matter of time before Bow hated her too.
It was only a matter of time before he too saw how useless she truly was.
She was stupid to think, for even a minute, a second, a moment , that she could ever actually be useful. And all she wanted... Truly, all she wanted was to be useful.
But it seemed that she could only mess that up too.
"Adora?"
Adora stiffened. With the hand not clasped over her mouth, she hurriedly wiped away the tears on her face. She could hear the telltale sound of Glimmer teleporting behind her. She looked away as Glimmer settled down next to her.
Honestly, she wanted to move away like she did on the boat. She didn't want to talk to Glimmer until she had something useful to give her or do for her. She didn't want to burden Glimmer anymore. And she especially didn't want to make Glimmer feel like her words weren't justified. Because they were. Everything she said had been true.
But she was so, so tired. And in that moment, she wasn't sure she’d be able to move away with her knees buckling. So she stayed put. And kept her mouth shut.
"Hey," Glimmer nudged her a bit. "I'm sorry. About what I said. You know…"
Adora gave her a faint, trembling smile. "It's fine, Glim. I'm not angry."
Glimmer's hand hovered in the air between them, her eyes widening. "You're not? But you seemed so-"
"Sorry," Adora curled a bit further into herself. "I just needed to think a bit more about what you said. And you were right."
"I was-" Glimmer shook her head. "No, no, I wasn't right. I said some really mean things."
Adora shook her head. "No, you just told me the truth. My best hasn't been good enough. If I never found the sword, then the portal never would've opened and Angella would still-" Adora cut herself off as her voice cracked. She looked away from Glimmer. "Your mother would still be here."
"That’s not your fault."
"It is," Adora choked back another sob. "I could've got the sword instead. And if I did, Angela would still be here and Hordak would be weakened enough for the Rebellion to finally push him back and you could have won."
A long silence passed between them. And Adora finally felt like she had enough strength to stand up and leave. But Glimmer's hand settled atop hers. Warm and soft, nothing like Adora's own calloused and scarred skin. Glimmer had the hands of a Princess. Adora had the hands of a soldier, a tool.
"And you would be gone," Glimmer said.
Adora looked over, startled to find tears in Glimmer's eyes. Glimmer stared back at her, unafraid of showing the same weakness that Adora tried so hard to hide. "You would be gone, Adora."
Adora gave a helpless shrug. "I don’t know if that would be such a bad thing, Glimmer."
Glimmer gasped as the tears spilled over. She lurched forward and pulled Adora into a tight hug. Adora's hands stayed firmly planted by her sides. She could hug her back, but she wasn’t sure if she should.
"I can't lose you too. I can't," Glimmer buried her face into Adora's shoulder as she sobbed.
"You won't," Adora said. "She-Ra's here to stay as long as you need her."
Glimmer pulled back, her eyes searching Adora's. She shook her head. "I don’t need She-Ra. I need you, Adora. My Adora."
Adora smiled gently at Glimmer, patting her hand still on Adora's shoulder. She wanted to believe Glimmer. Really, she did.
But she couldn't.
"I'm going to find Mara's weapon, " she said, giving Glimmer's fingers a small squeeze. "And then everything will be fine. We'll win."
"Adora…"
Adora rose, already feeling another lump in her throat. "I should get some sleep," she said, even knowing that she was unlikely to get a wink of rest. "You should too."
"Adora, I'm sorry," Glimmer said again.
Adora could not, for the life of her, figure out why she was apologizing again. She instead, after a moment of hesitation, leaned down and pressed a kiss to Glimmer's forehead.
"There’s nothing to forgive."
And there wasn't. Adora already knew just how useless she truly was. Glimmer had just reminded her that she need to try harder.
"Goodnight, Glimmer," she said as she made her way back into the palace.
Behind her, she heard Glimmer whisper back, "Goodnight, Adora."