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English
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Published:
2020-10-12
Updated:
2021-01-18
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3,806
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8/?
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The Magic Between Us

Summary:

In the Fantastical world of Etheria, magic is commonplace and technology is on the rise.
During the birth celebration of the first princess of Halfmoon, a dark sorceress curses her to fall into an eternal slumber on the eve of her eighteenth birthday-- but there is a catch; she can be awoken from her slumber by the kiss of her soulmate.
A few months later, the Knights of Grayskull receive a shock as twins with the bearings of their deity leaders arrive in their hands.

The Horde is spreading; its dark magic corrupting and ruining more land every day,
The Princess Alliance is constantly fighting against the Horde and each other,
The Knights of Grayskull have received a beacon of hope from Etheria,
The Queendom of Halfmoon is facing its darkest days.

Notes:

***I have a rough plan for this, for now its rated T+, but may change to M later.***

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

The Knights of Grayskull were an entity known all throughout Etheria. These knights were chosen by Etheria itself and maintain the balance of the planet. The knights swore fealty to no power other than Etheria itself. Each knight is chosen at birth by a flurry of white butterflies and brought unto the knighthood to be raised among their future comrades and family. Among those chosen, every generation there is a leader brought forth as well-- She-Ra or He-Man. The embodiment of Etheria's magic in a physical, living, human form.

The Knights of Grayskull are an extremely small group, but their members are as powerful as they are scarce.

It came as a shock to She-Ra Mara when Shadow Weaver, the dark sorcerer, crashed the birth celebration of the Magicat Queendom's first princess. Mara had tried her best to remove the curse from the all-but-newborn princess, but there was something deeper and complex within the curse, and she could not remove it without risking the child's life.

The She-Ra received even more of a shock when a few months later twins were brought to Castle Grayskull with the bearings of She-Ra and He-Man both. An unprecedented event-- but one so utterly powerful Mara could not help but allow hope to blossom within her.

Chapter 2: Pondering

Chapter Text

Princess Cyra III of Driluth knew she would probably never see adulthood. Some bitch of a sorceress named Shadow Weaver had cursed her so that, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, she would fall into a never-ending slumber; less, of course, her true love, fated partner, soulmate, or whatever else you wanted to call her-- kissed her. Which was totally bullshit, she just knew it was.

Cyra doesn't remember much of her mother or father, they died fighting against the Horde when she was young. Her eldest brother, King Nicolas, filled the void they left as much as he possibly could. His advisors had tried to get him to simply assign a nanny and tutors, but he ensured that she was taken care of and raised by his own hands; and when he couldn't be there himself, one of her other brothers always would be.

Her brothers were… unique, to say the least. The Driluth’s were well known for the eccentricity of their family members. There was her eldest brother, King Nicolas, who was cold, calculating, and all together unfeeling and unaffected by anything less Cyra was involved. There was her second eldest brother, General Alvus, who was warm and kind-- but would not hesitate for a single second to rip out someone’s throat should they incite his anger or irritation. There was her third brother, Prince East, who was sweet and kind and supportive, many of their people loved him-- but his peaceful nature was not well suited for the warring world they were enraptured by currently. And finally, there was her fourth brother, Prince West, younger twin brother of East, and known for his snark, wit, irritation, sass, and uncaring attitude.

Cyra was close with all of her brothers-- but West was by far the one closest to her. She knew many of the nobles disdained her and her brothers’ dedication towards her; and unfortunately, this feeling transferred over to their children. When she was young, she already knew the severity of her condition. Her brothers were not the greatest masters of subtlety when they were younger; and so she and most of the queendom knew about her most imminent unfairly short time with them.

West was, somehow, ignorant of her condition. Back then he was often jealous of the attention and affection gifted upon her by their elder brothers, and so when the other nobles kids would bully her, he would simply sit back and let them. He felt frustrated though, just watching her allow them to walk all over them-- as if she was a serf, and not their sole princess. One day, when she was six and he eleven, he snapped. One of the nobles kids had raked their claws over her, and she’d cried. She had never cried, no matter what they had done before. She felt her tears spilling over her cheeks one moment, and the next she was watching through blurry eyes as West returned the favor to every one of her bullies present before lifting her into his arms and carrying her away into the Whispering Woods.

Cyra remembered it like it was yesterday, West yelling at her for not defending herself; asking her why she refused to stand up for herself, why she didn’t call for help, why she didn’t call for him. She remembered the look on his face when she told him, dejected and emptily, that she would never get to be Princess Regent, or a General, or an Advisor, or anything else. She remembered how shattered he had looked, how distraught he'd been, absorbing the words of his much younger sister before he sucked in a harsh breath, and spoke a few, simple words that changed her world forever.

Chapter 3: Dinner Plans

Chapter Text

“Then you should enjoy it.”

Those words had shaken her entire world. West pleaded to her as nonchalantly as he could to stand up for herself. To make the most of the little time she had. And once he noticed the pained hope, the unadulterated happiness in her eyes, he tried to hide his affection for her with a quick snap of “This is not because I like you!”.
But it was much too late, Cyra had already recognized that same protective love in West’s eyes that shone in their brothers’.

After that, and much to the rest of her brothers’ dismay, Cyra became attached to West; she would follow him around, ask him questions, and make him carry her in his arms. As she spent more time with him, she brightened and blossomed; it quickly became apparent that she had a natural gift for fighting and a brilliant mind. She proved to be an excellent strategist when she began to plan elaborate pranks on anyone and everyone she could-- often roping West into her schemes and getting him to play along with her mirthful mischief.

 

Cyra sighed to herself, flicking the quill in her hand back and forth as she stared at the paperwork before her. The Knights of Grayskull would be arriving for their annual check-in on Halfmoon, and she was in charge of their stay this year around. It would mean that she would personally entertain the Grayskulls’ deity generals. She had caught glimpses of the twin generals in the years prior but had never gotten the opportunity to properly greet the apprentice deities at the time. This year, however, the two had ascended into their destined roles as the leaders of the Knights of Grayskull; and Cyra would be acting as hostess for the She-Ra.

Cyra was grateful that East had stepped up to take the role of host for He-Man, so she wouldn’t have the pressure of fretting over both of the deities-- yet also allowing her to take the challenge of accommodating the knights for the entirety of their stay. Her tail flicked in annoyance behind her as she stared at the dinner plan for the knights. Such extravagance, such delicacy, such expense; it felt like it was more for the Halfmoon royalty than their guests.

Cyra groaned at the idiotic political landscape of her people and held the menu up-- as if holding it to the sky would change how hideously obvious it was that the food was in no way catered towards their, quite actually, godly guests. With a huff, she decided. She dipped the quill down into the ink and began to change the menu to closer match what her own and the other Princesses’ personal guards had told her they enjoyed to eat on special occasions. She had the menu sent to the kitchen as a command, and that any changes to or qualms about the menu would be brought directly to her, and no one else. She smirked as she imagined the horrified looks on the other nobles’ faces when they saw their extremely expensive and extravagant food had been replaced with more simple, more filling, dishes.

Cyra sat back and stretched, leaning her head all the way back over her seat to look out the window; it was past noon. She’d missed lunch. Cyra growled at the thought and immediately stood up-- the chair getting shoved back in the motion-- and moved to grab and put on her richly purple cloak before leaving the room, slamming the heavy doors to her office behind her.

Chapter 4: Steam

Chapter Text

Cyra swiftly padded down the corridors of their palace towards the training grounds. She was pissed that she’d spent her entire morning and lunch wallowing in the janky mess of work that the nobles had shoved upon her with their sad inability to show basic hospitality for some of the world’s most important figures and she needed to move around and blow off some steam before she was fit to rejoin any form of society-- high or not-- for the day.

Cyra got along well with the guards, after the incident with the young nobles, West had started taking her to the training grounds to “teach her how to function in society without letting assholes beat her ass like a loser,” and she’d been a fighter ever since.

The Knights of Halfmoon were an interesting bunch, to say the least. Often Cyra would come to the grounds and find them challenging wandering knights and warrior vagabonds when they arrive at the castle grounds for temporary work permits lasting the duration of their stay. Today was such a day as well, it seemed. Cyra could hear the shouts and jeers of competition resounding throughout the arena before she even got to the grounds.

She’d changed from her official clothes into much simpler, lighter, and durable wares that she knew she could fight in and avoid a majority of injuries in. Her paws treaded quietly as she made her way into the dueling arena-- and low and behold, there was the sight she knew would greet her. She looked down from the top of the stands into the arena and was met with a breathtaking sight. The woman was a flurry of movement, especially so with the fact that her body was encased in armour-- a mithril-tungsten alloy, if she’d had to guess. She was fighting against one of her personal guards; and she was winning.

Cyra’s guards had been handpicked by her brothers and herself; they were an extremely selective group and by far the strongest knights of the entire queendom. With a swish of a golden ponytail followed by a fist to the face and a sweep of the leg, Cyra watched her knight fall in defeat, and a flurry of chants and roars starting up in awe and amazement. The princess watched as the blonde warrior helped her knight back up, and started to converse with him as the other knights jumped down from the stands and began flooding towards her in the arena to join in.

Cyra padded over as well, staying behind a bit to allow herself to supervise and assess the situation a bit before she dived forward into the fray.

And then the warrior looked her way, and Cyra’s heart stopped.

Chapter 5: Goddess

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Adora was sure she had laid eyes on a goddess. Heterochromatic eyes bore into her own, she felt her heart thundering in her chest. She somewhat recognized the magicat-- then again, if she was a royal knight she had probably glanced at the girl in her previous visits. Adora blinked, and suddenly the woman was walking right towards her. She watched intently at how the woman moved, her lithe figure apparent from her tight, leather armour. She took in the woman’s massive mane of hair, held back with a simple red mask reminiscent of some of the other knights.

Before she knew it, the magicat goddess was standing directly in front of her.

“Your skills are… impressive. I wonder, if you are able to move that quickly with armour, I’d love to see how you fare without it.” The woman asked with a raised eyebrow and a… flirtatious tone? Adora felt like she was bathing in the light of a thousand stars from the fiery intent burning behind the magicats eyes. And yet, she felt her reply come to her as if it was the most natural thing she’d ever engaged in.

“I would be happy to show you how I fare. Let me take off my armour and then I’ll happily duel you!” Adora smiled wide and smugly at the woman, a temptress she was sure, but Adora was happy to entertain the knight and show off her hard-earned form.

The magicat tilted her neck back and barked out a laugh-- enjoying some joke that had surely gone over Adora’s head. But if missing some joke or another earned her that beautiful sound, Adora couldn’t care less.

Notes:

me, writing this fic from adora's pov:
CHANNEL MY INNER DUMBASS-- WHAT WOULD I SAY IF A HOT WOMAN CHALLENGED TO FIGHT ME WITHOUT ARMOUR?????

Chapter 6: Disappearing Act

Notes:

Lmfao sorry I do be struggling with online school,,, hopefully after the month's end I'll be able to write more tho-- hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

When Adora returned to the arena all the other magicats had retreated to the stands, leaving the beautiful magicat standing alone in the center. She approached, taking in the woman and her lack of weapons, unlike the other knights. Instead, Adora noticed the gleam of the sun’s light glinting off of deathly sharp black claws.

Adora walked up to the woman, a wooden practice sword languidly in her hand as she approached. The magicat stuck her left hand out towards her, “Catra,” she said with a smirk. ‘This woman’s smile will be the death of me,’ Adora mused, and she could feel a lopsided smile taking over her face against her will.

“Nice to meet you, Catra. I’m Adora,” she replied curtly, trying not to be too forward towards the magi--towards Catra.

The two retreated towards their places in the arena; parallel to each other and brandishing their weapons, ready to fight the moment the referee called the beginning of the duel. Time stretched on for what seemed like hours as Adora stared into Catra’s flaming multicolored eyes. The intensity behind them shone alongside the magicats mirth and shared anticipation.

Then, Catra relaxed her stance just a bit-- a smirk playing on her lips and amusement replacing fire. “Begin!” a voice shouted, Adora waited hesitantly and braced herself for the unknown attack patterns of the magicat. Catra began stalking towards her. Her tail languidly swaying behind her, and her claws sheathed. Adora stayed tense, her sword at the ready; she would be ready to counter the magicat’s claws. Catra stopped just out of range of her and her sword. Their eyes had been locked the entire time. Adora wasn’t sure she was breathing, or if the thundering and pounding that pulsed through her was her heart of her magic.

Catra slowly, purposefully, moved in a circle around to Adora’s left side-- Adora took her chance and lunged, clashing at the magicat who… Adora blinked.

She was gone?

“Hey, Adora.”

Chapter 7: Swept and Pinned

Notes:

me when I post again instead of doing my hw

 

oop

Enjoy!

Chapter Text

Adora’s ears flushed red as Cyra purred the words directly into them from behind her. Her sword came sweeping down at Cyra’s legs as she pivoted to face her-- but it was sloppy. As Cyra jumped to dodge it, she shot her right bicep tightly under and tucked into Adora's left armpit before she swiftly and powerfully swept Adora's legs out from under her with her calf. Cyra used her right hand to forcibly tuck Adora's head to her chest so that she wouldn't crack it against the stone floor as she was flipped.

The blonde rolled right up and turned to face her, flustered and shocked. Cyra grinned as Adoea quickly processed what she'd done to her, her expression shifting to excitement as she did. Adora’s stance shifted to staggered and her eyes were bright and focused. Cyra slid her claws out as she watched Adora fly towards her-- powerful legs propelling herself all the way back into range. Cyra wouldn’t be able to dodge it completely, so she used her forearm to deflect the sword as she pushed herself and Adora apart. Their movements were quick, and a flurry to most of her watching knights, but Cyra was experiencing it with sharp accuracy. The way the blonde’s muscles were taught yet relaxed, the reactions which had been obviously drilled into her for years, the fluidity of her rock-solid movements, the knowledge of how to use her entire body and not just her sword. Cyra liked how she fought-- how when Cyra moved to her left a foot reached out and hooked her ankle; how when her claws descended upon the knight an elbow met her stomach instead.

Adora might be oblivious, but she was powerful.

Cyra couldn’t even be mad when the blonde pinned her after Cyra disarmed her.

She might’ve even enjoyed it.

---

“All right all right that's enough,” an unfamiliar voice called out from the training arena entrance. ”Oh fuck,” Catra cursed-- but Adora didn’t think she realized she had said it out loud. “Catra, playtimes over, West wants you in his office in 20,” A magicat with jet black fur and cream swirls, ears, paws, and tail tip accents called out. Catra groaned in annoyance under her.

Under her.

Adora froze and looked at the beautiful woman currently pinned down beneath her, and her brain short-circuited.

“--dora!” A hiss brought her back from her thoughts and she realized Catra was talking to her, she blinked a few times, her throat was dry.

“Y-yeah?”

“You can get off of me now,” She huffed below her, and Adora scrambled up and offered her a hand. Thankfully, she took it. ’Oh good, maybe she isn’t mad at me for drifting off,’ Adora hoped.

Catra dusted herself off and then started to leave. Adora knew she wouldn’t be able to spar with the knights like this again when she came back as She-Ra, and she usually never fought the same knight twice, but she wanted to fight Catra next year too.

“Hey, Catra?” She called after her. The magicat turned her head over her shoulder, eyebrow quirked in amused curiosity, and padded back “Can I reserve another spar, this time next year?”

Catra froze for a second before shifting to somber resolve-- as if Adora had just offered her a meal she loved but knew she couldn’t eat. A sad smile tugged on the corners of Catra’s lips. She gave an airy, almost hollow, and yet utterly full chuckle and met Adora’s eyes as she nodded before she turned to leave again.

“Bye, Adora,”

Chapter 8: Hey, Adora

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Cyra wasn’t surprised when West made himself at home on her windowsill, she’d heard him quietly climbing up the stone brick walls of the castle.

 

“Todays the big day,” he drawled, bringing his pointer to her forehead, “don't fuck it up.”

 

Cyra groaned and batted his hand away with her tail, “I won’t,” she snipped at him. He simply chuffed at her and slipped into the room, walking towards the door.

 

“Have fun,” he almost sing-songed at her before leaving with a wink. Cyra sighed-- this was going to be a long day.

 

---

 

Adora mourned the 20 unit loss from their bet as the squire she’d inquired after told her Adam’s group had arrived before hers, and had already been shown to their private barracks by the time she arrived. With a sigh she fixed her posture and looked on towards the castle gates, noticing her welcoming committee perfectly stationed. ‘ Shit, how long have they been standing there waiting for us? ’Adora panicked, picking up her stride and motioning for her women to follow her pace.

 

As she approached Adora started to make out the sight of the Princess standing in the center of the gates, flanked by perfect lines of knights in immaculate sets of magicat armour. Adora knew the… situation surrounding the Princess-- a queendom with five heirs, but only one rightful heir; and she was cursed to fall into an eternal slumber the moment she came of age for the throne. She’d met the Princess in passing-- thought she’d never really gotten a good look at her face-- but now the Princess was months away from her imminent date with fate, and this would be her last chance to carry out the sacred duty of hosting Adora’s knights before it.

 

With a pitying sigh, Adora shook her head and cleared it, quickly dragging her eyes to take in the Princess who--

 

Adora froze, she was now in range to see the Princess’s face-- although the magicat had most certainly seen hers for much longer-- and she recognized that face . How could she forget those piercing, mesmerizing, heterochromatic eyes. 

 

“Adora?” Nook, one of her captains, enquired about her halt. Adora shook her head and waved them off, continuing her approach to the woman.

 

She came to a stop a sword's length away and openly stared into the most beautiful pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The Princess bowed to her, and then brought herself back up to eye level-- well, she was a bit shorter so not quite, but the point is there. She looked her dead in the eyes, and with a familiar, playfully solemn smile, she greeted her in mirror to their departure months prior.

 

“Hey, Adora,”

 

---

 

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“Cyra a a A A”

 

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Blue-- so blue -- I want--

 

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A scream... her nam-- name? What was her name?

 

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A light-- golden-- dark tendrils-- cold… so cold

 

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It hurts It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts

 

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Warm-- she felt warm. She remembered. Nico, Alvus, East, West-- Adora.

 

Adora

 

Adora

 

Who was she?

 

Who was she?

 

Catra? Cyra?

 

Cyra? Catra?

 

Who--

 

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Warm, soft, wet-- she felt soft lips on her own and a rough hand on her face

 

Her mind was blaring white as she struggled to remember-- who, what, where, when, how, why--

 

She felt something warm and wet fall onto her cheek and trail down

 

Slowly, she opened her eyes to catch those endless, oceanic abyssal, magically empowered eyes 

 

She felt a warmth in her chest as shock took over that handsome face, lined with a geysers worth of tears

 

Her mind foggy, she reached up and let her soft hand rest on that face, and with a soft smile she spoke with a dry, sleep-addled rasp of a voice--

 

“Hey... Adora...”

Notes:

Sorry this took a while-- life is w a c k and also I've had a block on how to do this and was dragging it out--
You may thank the ever prevalent uniqueusernamegenerator for gifting me a crack head idea which became a perfect conduit for the story's progression!

Love you guys and I hope you enjoyed!

Notes:

A little fic based off/inspired by @kaifu_ato's catratober day 11 post!!!

https://twitter.com/kaifu_ato/status/1315361151560032256?s=19