Chapter Text
The first party is relatively small.
Well, sort of. Not really.
After that first year, every town across Etheria holds a celebration of some kind. Everyone wants to commemorate the day Horde Prime was purged from existence, a day so important that even She-Ra is compelled to take a short break from bringing magic to the universe.
“They’re calling it Restoration Day,” Glimmer says, clasping her hands together, “because peace, freedom, and magic were restored to Etheria.”
Adora, Glimmer, and Bow receive invitations to parties all over the world, of course. Catra will never admit this to anyone, but she’s relieved when the Princesses choose to have a party of their own.
The four of them (Catra refuses to call them the “Best Friend Squad”) land the spacecraft in Brightmoon about a week before the party starts. They’re having it here at the castle, obviously, being the former seat of the rebellion and all, but Glimmer assures them over and over that it’s going to be calm and low-key, with minimal preparations. She manages to stick to that conviction for a surprisingly long time, and it’s only on the final day that she gets really stressed. Catra, for the most part, stays out of her way.
Catra spends most of the first day making fun of Adora’s bedroom. She teases Adora for going soft, cackling at the waterfall until Adora threatens to push her into it. Adora describes her first night in Brightmoon, how she fought and destroyed a feather bed before humiliating herself in front of the queen. Catra laughs until she can’t breathe while Melog sprawls out on the floor, humming.
They spend most of their first night in Brightmoon making out on Adora’s bed. Melog teleports…somewhere…as they usually do when this happens.
Okay and the second night too. And the third. The bed is huge and ridiculously comfortable. Who could blame them?
Anyway.
Adora spends most of the week traveling, visiting Etherians who are thrilled at the chance to see She-Ra again. Catra chooses to stay behind. It’s weird not having Adora around, but Catra’s not interested in potentially spoiling the festivities with her presence. Melog stays by Catra’s side constantly during the day, which helps.
The other princesses start arriving a few days before the party. There are tears and hugging, and more tears, and eventually something called a Drum Circle. It’s awkward at first, but it gets better. Netossa teaches Catra a game that involves hitting a ball back and forth over a net, and Catra spends a very satisfying afternoon beating all the Princesses at it. (She only feels guilty when it’s Scorpia. She lets Scorpia score a couple points on her, which Perfuma definitely notices. Luckily Scorpia doesn’t.)
She finishes the last game with a leap and a cackle, Sea Hawk sputtering that he was intentionally going easy, just before she spots Adora watching from the castle steps. Catra’s not sure how long Adora has been there, but the blush and the grin on her face suggest that it’s been a while.
Catra sprawls across Adora’s lap so suddenly that Adora yelps.
“Hey Adora.” Purring, Catra wiggles her back and shoulders until she's comfortable. “How was visiting your loyal fans?”
“Three more people named their babies after me.” Adora looks so uncomfortable that Catra can’t help laughing. Adora scowls. “One of them put my ponytail in her mouth. Just…” Adora shudders, “took a handful and chomped right down on it. I am never holding a baby ever again.”
Catra arches her back and laughs with her entire body. Adora pushes her out of her lap, and Catra log-rolls down the steps, still cackling. Gasping for breath, she curls up on herself, wiping away tears.
The party itself isn’t much different from the days preceding it, except that everyone is dressed up and Glimmer isn’t shouting at anyone.
They do something called a “toast” where different people stand up and say sentimental things and then they all touch their cups together. It seems ridiculous, but Bow and Glimmer cry through almost all of them (though at least Glimmer manages not to cry through her own) and even Adora seems touched, so…sure.
Entrapta uses her hair to clink her tiny glass with the glass of every single person at the party, every time. Hordak, Catra notices, is not here. Not that she expected him to be, but still it’s a relief. She’s not sure any of the Princesses other than Entrapta are ready for that. Catra definitely isn’t.
Eventually everyone turns to Adora, smiling expectantly. Adora freezes, and Catra realizes she had not been expecting to speak.
She’s such an idiot.
“Um,” Adora stands up, lifting her glass. There’s a moment of silence as she looks at everyone. “So…” she says, “it’s been a while since I’ve had to do this. Talk to crowds, I mean. Other than...every day for the past week, I guess.” A few people chuckle.
Under the table, Catra slips her hand into Adora’s. Adora smiles without looking down.
“Most of us are thinking back to one year ago, what the world looked like and how much it’s changed since then. But for me,” she closes her eyes. When she opens them, Catra sees a flash of something that is Adora and She-Ra at the same time. “I can’t think one year in the past without thinking back much longer. My world, as you know, used to be very different. Then everything changed, very suddenly and very quickly.” Catra worries, for a moment, about where this is going. “Then it changed again. And again.” Catra relaxes.
“In all that time, and all that change, all that fighting…probably the most valuable thing I learned was that destiny isn’t about one person doing something that someone decided on a thousand years ago. It’s about choices. It’s about people. Every single person, and their choices, matter.
“Etheria is what it is today because of all of you, and the choices you made. When we celebrate the defeat of Horde Prime, we are celebrating our part in making it happen. We are celebrating each other. And, I know I’ve said this a lot, but,” Adora’s eyes brim with tears. “Thank you. Thank you all.”
They clink glasses one more time, and apparently by some unspoken rule they are done, because everyone goes back to talking and eating. Adora and Catra share a small smile.
“Not bad, huh?” says Adora under her breath.
“Not bad at all, Princess,” Catra grins. “You had a few people in tears there. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Grinning, she leans over to whisper in Adora’s ear. “It was actually pretty hot.”
She expects Adora to blush or sputter, but instead Adora grins and whispers, “Not as hot as you spiking the ball at Sea Hawk. You should definitely do that more often.” And...now Catra is blushing. Only a little, though. Adora throws her head back and laughs.
Later, the servants set up a massive campfire outside (Glimmer, being Glimmer, wanted to commemorate all the time they spent camping out during the rebellion). Catra sits on the ground, stroking Melog’s head as Adora wraps an arm around her shoulders. They watch the group in silence for a long time.
Bow and Sea Hawk sing something about friendship and adventure. Mermista, a few feet away, sighs loudly even though she’s obviously enjoying it. On the other side of the campfire, Glimmer, King Micah and Castaspella are engaged in an animated conversation about something that, judging from their gestures, probably has to do with magic. The sight of three sorcerers talking like that pulls at something in Catra’s chest and she looks away as Melog rubs her leg with their face.
Scorpia joins in the singing, tentative at first but with a building confidence. Her voice is…actually really good. There is so much that Catra doesn’t know about her.
It’s nothing like the campfires they used to have in the Horde, with their rations and watch schedules and tense silences. This is warm and relaxing. Catra rests her head on Adora’s shoulder, closing her eyes and purring as Adora’s fingers stroke her cheek.
When Catra opens her eyes, the fire has turned to embers and small prickles of flame. Bow and Frosta are roasting something puffy and white on long sticks. Frosta groans as hers catches fire. She waves it around for a moment before she clenches her fist, encasing it in a block of ice.
“Maybe it works as a popsicle?” Scorpia suggests, after Frosta spends a good minute just staring at what she’s done. Frosta licks her ice creation and grimaces in disgust. Catra laughs quietly, feeling Adora shift under her.
“You’re awake,” Adora says, planting a small kiss on Catra’s head. Catra is reminded of the day - exactly one year ago - when they fell asleep in each other’s arms in a meadow full of the weirdest flowers Catra had ever seen. Technically, Catra woke up first, but after a few minutes of touching Adora’s face thinking this is really happening, she fell back asleep, only to find Adora giving her a very similar look when she woke up again.
“Hey Adora,” she replies, as she had then. Adora presses their foreheads together. Catra purrs, something she’s done more of in the past year then she did in her entire life before.
Bow lifts the stick from the fire to inspect the now-brownish thing at the tip. He seems satisfied with it, whatever it is. Entrapta approaches the fire with something that looks like a rake, with tiny white lumps impaled on all the prongs.
“What are those?”
“I have no idea,” Adora says. “But they must be really good. Everyone keeps saying they want some more.”
They watch for several minutes longer, trying to figure out what those things are and what they’re supposed to do with them. The process looks oddly complicated. Catra does not understand why these people, who spent months at a time eating whatever they could cook over a campfire, now choose to do it again even though they are on the grounds of a literal castle.
Eventually Adora asks Bow and Glimmer to show her what to do, and Catra joins in more out of curiosity than anything. As she expected, it’s not really worth the trouble. Catra has already learned the hard way that she can’t eat chocolate (she takes a piece anyway and slips it to Adora when no one is looking), so hers is probably not as good as the others’ to begin with. The marsh-mellow (Etherians have the weirdest names for things) takes way too long to cook and the end result is nearly impossible to eat.
“Nope,” says Catra, her mouth full of sweet, sticky, crumbly stuff. “Not worth it.” Adora takes one look at Catra’s face and nearly chokes with laughter. Catra reddens and spends the next ten minutes scrubbing the fine layer of fur around her mouth, while Adora roasts three marsh-mellows at the same time.
It’s nice, that first year; calm and relaxing and personal and small. Most of the princesses leave in the morning, and the four of them embark on the ship not long after, chatting about who has grown and who has changed and who really, really hasn’t. By the time Etheria has disappeared from sight, Catra, lacing her fingers with Adora’s, is already looking forward to next year.