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After the war, there is peace.
For the most part.
Catra finds it a bit funny - in the same way she finds all distinctly non-funny things to be, how much harder life feels after the Rebellion wins. For real this time.
After the first time, she suffered from the occasional migraines that were ever-waning in their frequency. There were still ghosts and whispers of trauma to work through, but she had been so blind to the joy of having a home that they felt miniscule.
Or maybe she had refused to let herself to truly feel the anger or sadness that followed. The good outweighed the bad, and that was all she tried to let herself focus on.
Catra might’ve been paralyzed at times with a crippling wave of anxiety or grapple with feelings of being unwanted - but it was manageable.
Or maybe the peace she had found after the Portal was just so brief and fleeting that she never got to fully process everything before Prime came and - well.
Horde Prime came and forced her to realize how easy life had been even in her worst moments prior. She’d take a childhood spent under Shadow Weaver’s boot or a banishment to Beast Island three times over again if it meant never having to deal with Horde Prime.
Beating Prime and living to tell the tale was certainly nice. Having a few weeks to recover from the physical toll of the previous three months was also nice. But those weeks were just a mere cushion, nothing could stop the inevitable return to reality.
Life is all about making sense of the mess Prime has left behind. Ranging from figuring out little nuances like what to do with the left-behind clones and abandoned spires, all the way to the bigger philosophical questions of whether or not the rest of the universe lacking magic is their job to fix.
But, after having gone through so much with Adora, she feels like a stable, anchoring point for Catra now. They’ve always been close, sure, but after taking the failsafe together they feel bonded in a deeper, more intrinsic way. The strength of their connection was almost too much in the immediate weeks following the defeat of Prime; any degree of separation seemed to cause Adora a great deal of stress, but lately she’s been working with Perfuma on managing her anxiety.
Catra is certain she’d be just as anxious as Adora if it weren’t for Melog at her side. If she’s angry, they let her be angry. They let her cry or scream or whatever it takes to feel back in control - to remember that Prime is gone, and she will never lose control over her body like that again.
Glimmer and Bow are still Glimmer and Bow. Bow feels kind of like a brother to Catra now, someone she can talk to when she doesn’t want to talk about anything. And Glimmer is as fun to poke and irritate as she’s always been.
Micah and Angella...well, everything had been fine with them after defeating Prime. Things still are fine. Really, honestly. Catra knows her insecurities about them wanting nothing to do with her after the war are entirely unfounded. They’re her family and bonding to the Moonstone is proof of that.
Angella has always had an uncanny ability to read Catra, and this has only been magnified by their shared experiences with the chip. She is gentle and understanding and Micah is...the same. He’s great. Supportive, eager to help. Always offering to resume their magic lessons even if Catra has turned him down at every opportunity. She isn’t sure why she does it, she knows she shouldn’t but -
It’s just...complicated.
Catra feels different too. Changed, somehow. And she isn’t sure if she likes it.
The crux of the issue boils down to the fact that she sort of, really really wishes things could go back to the way they were after Post-Portal and Pre-Prime. She wants a do-over. She’s not sure what could even be done differently but…
She misses how things were before - misses the person she was back then. Back before Prime took her and changed everything about her.
Just yesterday, a child down in Plumeria pointed at her and cried . Not because of her history as a force captain, but because they recognized her as a ‘scary clone’. Thanks to Prime projecting her fucking brainwashed face all over Etheria.
That isn’t the first time either - it happened in Elberon too when they were hunting down Spinnerella. And if it’s not a child being brought to tears at the sight of her face , she still gets strange looks from villagers too. Everyone recognizes her as one of Prime’s clones.
The memory evokes a groan from her as she sits at the war room table. She hasn’t listened to a damn thing Scorpia has had to say - and, the other formerly-chipped princesses might have issues with image and public trust now too, but it doesn’t feel as severe.
“Gee, Catra, didn’t know you felt so passionate about implementing an Etheria-wide sustainability program,” Scorpia says, eyes eager and genuine.
Fuck. She didn’t realize it was that loud.
“I really don’t,” Catra mutters under her breath. Adora, ever the traitor, snorts out a giggle which raises some eyebrows across the table. “I mean - whoo. Go trees.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Mermista interjects, clearly having not listened either, “This whole thing is just about trees ? I thought we were planning on like, purifying the waters of Etheria for the marine life? Now it just seems like you’re favoring your little plant princess.”
Perfuma squawks indignantly while Scorpia tries to back pedal, “It’s not about trees!”
“It’s not?” Perfuma’s face then falls, looking disappointed.
“I mean, it is! But it’s not just about trees! There’s a multi-step plan in place, did no one hear the multi- part?” Scorpia is a bit more frazzled now. “It’ll also get us cleaner air! That’s uh- that’s good for you too, right Spinnerella?”
Spinny and Netossa send her an encouraging thumbs up. More questions break out across the table, but Catra zones out again.
“Hey,” Adora nudges her shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”
Catra feels herself become more awake at the question, unaware her exhaustion had been so obvious. She straightens up and notices Angella and Micah staring at her with concern. After getting caught, they cough and resume half-hearted note taking.
Hyper-aware of the concern she’s elicited from multiple people, Catra gives herself a small shake. “No, uh. I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” Adora asks with a small frown.
“Just feel out of it, I guess,” Catra tries for something a little closer to the truth.
“Is this about Plumeria?” Of course Adora knows. Her girlfriend offers a slight grimace, “Perfuma might’ve told me. A little bit.”
Catra grumbles to herself, causing Melog to stir at her feet. “I guess that didn’t really help.”
Adora grabs her hand under the table, “Is there anything I can do?”
Catra laces their fingers together, offering a small squeeze. “I’m fine to get through the meeting, honestly.”
Adora looks a bit skeptical.
“Reduce, reuse and recycle,” Catra recites from their Horde training days, “See? I love the environment.”
Adora laughs a bit at that, giving another reassuring squeeze before they turn their attention back to the meeting.
Catra chances another glance at Micah and Angella, but they are now speaking softly amongst themselves, arms intertwined on the table.
That, Catra supposes, is also the problem. Micah used to annoy her until she opened up to him, but now he just…moves on. Maybe it isn’t fair, maybe she just misses him and maybe she should just talk to him about this but it…
It’s too hard.
It feels like he doesn’t care. That can’t be true - Catra knows it has to be an old insecurity rearing its ugly head. And the only way to combat such a dangerous thought is to confront the matter directly. But she keeps waiting for him to bring it up, or to push her just a bit to open up like he used to and every time he doesn’t…it just hurts more.
She’s fairly certain this never would’ve happened before Prime. But the war has changed everyone, not just her.
Anxiety, dread, and fear swirl inside Catra - potentiating a violent storm.
She scoots her chair a little closer to Adora, hoping to find a bit of comfort in pressing their bodies together.
Without question or so much as a sideways glance, Adora reciprocates by placing an arm around her waist. Catra leans into the touch with a grateful sigh. She suddenly feels a bit more tired, but if she plays her cards right, she might be able to convince Adora to take a nap with her after this.
But then, the next agenda item is pressed forward and Catra suddenly feels very alert.
“Do we have any status update on the legal proceedings for Hordak and Shadow Weaver from the last meeting?” Entrapta asks, “I could really use another set of hands in the lap and Hordak was a great partner - "
The room stills.
“Last meeting?” Catra asks, twisting to Entrapta in confusion.
“Yes. The last meeting - May 26th at 2:45 PM? We started late-”
“I wasn’t there,” Catra states, plainly.
“You and Adora were resting, dear,” Angella reminds her.
“Wasn’t that just the week after we defeated Prime?” Adora whispers in her ear, doing the mental math in her head. Adora and Angella are both correct - it was the week right after kicking Prime’s and naturally Catra and Adora were both recovering.
But the excuse feels a little too convenient.
Catra turns to stare down Angella and Micah. “Oh. Really?”
Micah and Angella blink at her in response. “Yes, really. You both weren’t cleared for meetings for quite some time.”
“Right. But you weren’t either, were you?” Catra raises an eyebrow at Angella, “You know, because we wasted so much time listening to Shadow Weaver that Primes chip nearly infused to your body? Didn’t it take you a minute or two to recover too?”
Her voice is a little shaky and she suddenly feels very angry. Melog jumps onto her lap, meowing their concern at her.
“So, what is it? Did you just not want me there so you can decide how you want to laud and celebrate the great hero Shadow Weaver?” Catra accuses. She should stop now, she knows her accusation is unfounded and she’s already gone too far. But it’s like there is something inside of her that has just been waiting for this - waiting for some sort of external confirmation of all the fears and worries in her head.
“Catra,” - Right. She’s Catra now. Long gone are the days of kid - because Prime took that too. Micah’s tone is stern, “That isn’t what happened. Not everyone was at that meeting. Entrapta called it because she was worried about Hordak. And since Shadow Weaver was held a prisoner alongside him until Prime arrived, we had to discuss what to do with her now as well.”
“I wasn’t even there either,” Glimmer offers Catra a consoling look.
“I hate having them in my kingdom,” Frosta groans to diffuse some of the tension in the room, “The guards don’t even let me go down there to practice my ice punches on them.”
But Catra will not be deterred. The usual back and forth only makes her more upset. She stands up, out of her chair, out of Adora’s grasp.
“Why does it even matter if she was a prisoner alongside him?” She scoffs, looking dead center at Micah and Angella, “Since when do you two care about her past? You’re so caught up in her and her bullshit you’re practically begging her to stab you in the back and betray you again.”
“We only sought her help when we could not get a hold of you,” Angella tells her, calmly. This may be the dozenth time she’s had to tell Catra this. “She is not a hero , and her past matters very much to us.”
“Does it now?” Catra snorts, “Sure didn’t seem that way when you were hanging on to every word she had to say. And you know what? Sorry you couldn’t get a hold of me, I was too busy trying to save Glimmer and the rest of Etheria while you two decided to play catch up with your old mentor.”
The room falls silent. Perfuma coughs into her hand, “Maybe we can talk about this another time. After we’ve had some time to reflect on our feelings-”
Micah looks like he wants to interject and say something. Catra dares him with her eyes, but he remains silent.
“Save it. Clear her charges. Fucking carve a statue out of marble and put it out in the Grand Hall for all I care. Oh, here’s an idea - maybe we model it after her sending Micah into exile ? Or how about when she used poison bots that nearly killed him?” Catra snarls, nails digging into the wood of the table.
She can feel Adora’s stare on her, feels her girlfriend rise to stand next to her and put her arm on her shoulder.
But Angella stands too.
“Language, Catra, that is enough ,” Angella’s tone is indisputable. Her expression is stony and her gaze is even. “If you want to have a conversation about this like a mature adult, we will happily do so. But until you are prepared to lay any digs and insults aside, we will not discuss it any further.”
Her words feel cold. Micah drags a hand across his tired face. They are tired of her. Exasperated. Over it-
“Now I’m immature?” Catra doubles down, “You two didn’t seem to think that -“
“You are acting like a child.” Angella interjects. Catra feels a real, passionate urge to flip the entire table over.
“I’m not ! You two just can’t handle being called out for the truth ,” Catra interjects.
“Your truth is not the only truth in the world, Catra,” Micah stands next to his wife, face unreadable. “You might not accept what your mother or I have to say, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Now, we can discuss this matter together , or we can follow Perfuma’s advice and wait until everyone has calmed down a bit.”
Calmed down - calmed down? Catra doesn’t need to calm down and she’s not a child . That’s the problem, maybe - she’s grown and they can’t handle her now.
“Oh no, don’t stop the meeting on my account. I don’t care what you do,” Catra decides. Just like you don’t care what I do. “Screw you both.”
She pulls her chair out and promptly gets the fuck out of the meeting. She isn’t even truly sure of where her body is taking her, Melog eagerly following at her feet, until she reaches her old room. Which is good , she thinks, because she wouldn’t want to punch the pillows or scream into the bed in the room that her and Adora share now.
Catra pulls the necklace around her neck, the part of her that is infused with the Moonstone, and throws it across the room. She hopes it breaks, shatters into a million pieces and can’t be fixed,
But of course -
It doesn’t.
She is not used to waking up in her old room. It’s a bit disorienting at first, she blinks blearily at her surroundings before feeling something warm at her back.
Adora holds her closer and nuzzles against her and - ah, yes. That’s right. After the meeting, Adora had found her on the floor pressed up against the edge of her old bed. Didn’t ask questions, didn’t push for any information. Just held her while she gained control over her breathing and her raging emotions. Helped her change into an old set of pajamas and made sure she drank water before carrying her into the bed.
Melog is curled up in their smaller form on top of her feet. It is nice, secure. But the front of her fees exposed, her heart feels like it has a gaping cavity inside.
She curls in on herself a bit. Out of tears but still feeling like shit. Adora’s grip on her tightens, “Cff-tra?”
In spite of herself, Catra smiles. After the war, Adora has begun to be less and less alert in the mornings. It’s pretty cute. “Hi.”
“Love you,” Adora mumbles a little more coherently.
The words stun Catra. Not ordinarily, but right now at least. She knows she was out of line yesterday. Micah isn't going to magically start caring about her if she’s mean to him. But she’s already made her bed, figuring she might as well lie in it.
Still - she knows she made a fool out of herself with her little breakdown. It’s embarrassing -
Yet, here is Adora. Holding her, telling her she loves her in the truth of the early morning glow from the sun rise.
“Catra?” Adora leans up now. Her voice, concerned, only makes Catra more emotional and seriously what the fuck is wrong with her - “Are you- why are you crying?”
She doesn’t know. It’s so stupid. Everything is so much and so ridiculously overwhelming and she can’t make anything better for herself -
Catra turns to face Adora, finding she was not out of tears after all, and buries her face in the crook of Adora’s neck.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Adora comforts, holding her close. “You can cry, Catra. It’s okay.”
She presses a kiss to the top of Catras head, like her value is inestimable somehow, and Catra just cries harder.
They spend the rest of the morning like that, cuddling in Catra’s old bed room. She tries to make sense of why she’s so upset and feels frustrated with herself every time she fails to verbalize it.
Adora doesn’t seem to mind. Tells her at one point that there doesn’t even necessarily need to be a reason .
Episodes like this have been happening ever since defeating Prime. It’s nice to have Adora and Melog there. Glimmer, too, because she gets what it was like to be stuck on that ship. And if Catra really needs a distraction, she’ll play the role of supervisor and follow Bow around for the day just to bother him. Sometimes it’s even helpful to just listen to Entrapta rant in her incredibly detailed tech speak, or entertain Scorpia gushing about a bird she had seen that day. If she feels the need to burn off some energy, Netossa and Frosta are always down to spar.
So really - who cares if she doesn’t spend that much time with Micah anymore? She doesn’t need to.
She can handle this on her own or with her friends.
After sending one final scowl to the necklace that Adora had gently picked up off the floor and laid on her nightstand, they make their way out of Catra’s room and down to the dining hall for late breakfast.
Catra hears people talking, picks up on a few distinct voices and rolls her shoulders - shaking off the raw emotion of the morning and determining to be fine today. More than fine. She’s going to be great, and everyone is going to see how great she’s doing -
“Wildcat!” Scorpia’s voice is cheery, ringing out across the hall as soon as the doors open. Catra smiles at how genuinely happy her friend is to see her, as if they hadn’t seen each other just yesterday. This might even be easier than she thought. “Come on! Sit down, I was just telling Bow and Glimmer here about Prank Fest !”
Catra scoffs, “Oh, you mean the greatest Fright Zone holiday? Please tell me you and Petals over there are planning on making it a Kingdom-recognized event.”
“I remember Prank Fest!” Adora chimes in and Catra tugs her along to the seats open next to Scorpia. She notices Micah and Angella speaking to Casta at the end of the other table, but averts her gaze so she doesn’t have to see whether or not they make an attempt to greet either her or Adora.
“Pft, of course you do. You’re mainly why it was invented,” Catra rolls her eyes.
“Not true! The older Force Captains were doing it years before we did!” Adora argues.
“Okay fine, but you’re at least responsible for why it continued ,” Catra concedes.
“Oh, great. So this isn’t actually a holiday,” Bow deadpans, “This is just another sad Horde holiday constructed out of boredom to make your childhood slightly more tolerable.”
“Hey, it wasn’t sad , it was fun!” Catra disagrees, with Scorpia and Adora eagerly confirming at her side. “It was just a week where we divided up into teams and took turns pranking each other but had a rule that we had to do it without getting caught by any higher ranking officers so no one got in trouble.”
“Scorpia, weren’t you a Force Captain before everyone else?” Glimmer asks with a small frown.
“Yeah but I didn’t count!” Scorpia brushes her off, “We all just wanted to have a good time!”
“And we all did!” Adora chirps, “Well...except for Kyle. It, uh-eventually the teams became just a Kyle vs. everyone else sort of thing.”
“Oh Kyle,” Catra bites down a laugh.
“Kyle, Kyle, Kyle,” Scorpia mimics with a slight shake of her head.
“Everyone ganging up against Kyle feels like less of a holiday and more of an average week,” Bow points out.
“Yeah,” Glimmer agrees, “Was there at least - I don’t know, cake or something to celebrate?”
Catra raises an unimpressed brow, “Uh, do me a favor quick and think back to the first time you and I ever tried to bake together. Then you tell me whether or not there was cake involved.”
Glimmer groans before pointing through the door, to the corner of the adjoining kitchen. “Do you see that? There’s still flour up there!”
“Go teleport yourself up there and clean it up then,” Catra challenges before plucking a strawberry from Scorpia’s plate and popping it into her mouth.
Glimmer makes an affronted noise, “Me? Don’t be ridiculous, that was probably from you!”
Catra snorts in return, “You think I’m the one with poor aim here? That’s all you, sis .” She returns with a smug smile, crossing her arms triumphantly.
She closes her eyes for a brief second, long enough to hear Bow say, “Glimmer do not -”
But next thing she knows, something grossly wet hits her collarbone with a small splat. She lets out a noise of disgust, wrinkling her nose as she feels a chunk of pineapple threaten to slide down her shirt. “Yep - couldn’t hit a boulder if you tried.”
She flicks the offending piece of fruit off of herself with enough force to hit Bow’s arm in retaliation. Glimmer picks up a waffle, reeling her arm back to throw when - very suddenly, a guard comes by and plucks it from her hand.
“We are under very strict orders to prevent any additional food fights,” They explain, not backing down even as Glimmer balks at them.
Catra just snickers in response, smirking when Glimmer hisses this isn’t over at her.
This is at least one thing that hasn’t changed.
“Catra, a word please?”
Catra freezes when she hears Angella call her attention as she attempts to exit the dining hall with her friends. She was, apparently, incorrect in assuming she’d be entirely off the hook for yesterday.
She turns around, begrudgingly, and feels her heart pick up a bit in dread.
Angella smiles at her, but it feels strained. Micah isn’t here.
Probably had something better to do.
“Well?” Catra asks, raising her eyebrows expectantly, “What is it? Or are we waiting for Micah?”
“Micah is off to the library with Casta,” Angella tells her, eyes are soft and her tone is gentle, despite the way the words cut through Catra. “You know him, can’t stay out of the library too long.”
Catra doesn’t know what there even is to be upset about. It’s not like he hasn’t asked Catra to join him dozens of times. But he didn’t today. He must’ve gotten tired of Catra shooting him down.
“Yep.” she confirms quickly, voice thick.
Angella eyes her skeptically, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“We’ve been worried about you,” She discloses. Catra bites down a were you? And averts her gaze to the ground. “Oh, hello Melog.”
Catra follows Angella’s eyes to see Melog making their way towards them. They must’ve picked up on her distress. Catra scoops them up quickly, despite not usually holding them, it feels like they could be a helpful barrier right now. They make a low rumble of contentment before curling in a bit tighter in her arms.
Angella reaches out to pet them and Catra gives herself credit for only flinching marginally . Angella still picks up on it though, face dropping just a bit. “I am glad you have Melog here, they seem to be very comforting.”
That is not a lie - Angella and Micah love Melog. Catra might’ve been a bit worried they’d have reservations about Melog, but if she ever can’t find them it’s likely because they’ve decided to hang out with the Queen and King instead.
“Yeah, they’re pretty great.” Catra agrees, feeling a bit awkward. At least they can agree on one thing.
Angella sighs, withdrawing her hand and straightening her posture. “It’s just - we’re afraid you haven’t been acting like yourself lately. Entirely understandable, given everything you’ve been through. We just want to make sure we’re supporting you in any way you need.”
“Who is this ‘we’?” Catra scoffs, “I only see you here.”
Confused, Angella raises an eyebrow,“Having an entire Alliance-wide meeting about your feelings didn’t feel appropriate.”
That’s not what Catra meant.
“It wouldn’t be,” she grumbles.
“Then I’m not sure I’m following your point,” Angella says with unceasing patience.
“What - does everyone here just talk about me when I’m not around?” Catra accuses.
“No - of course not. I was referring to your father and I,” Angella elaborates.
“Yeah, exactly. If he’s so worried, then where is he? Didn’t realize books were so important to him.” Catra tries, really tries to bury the sinking feeling in her chest. But Micah not being here hurts in a way she is still unaccustomed to.
Angella seems surprised - a bit taken aback. “We didn’t want you to feel ambushed - and I suspected it might be easier for us to discuss this privately. Would you like me to send for him?”
She looks over to a guard who nods at the request.
“No, don’t bother,” She declines, but doesn’t make a move to stop the guard from leaving. This conversation will be over in a minute, anyway. She doesn’t care if she inconveniences Micah and makes him come over here for nothing.
“I’m sorry Catra. He gladly would’ve stayed if he knew you wanted him here,” Angella amends, looking genuinely apologetic.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Catra asks, recoiling slightly.
“It just seems as though you’ve been taking some extra space as of late,” Angella notes. And that might be true but that’s also not fair . “We wanted to do our best to respect that.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been respecting it a little too much,” she responds under her breath, stomach swooping lowly.
“What? Catra,” Angella seems a bit bewildered. “I don’t understand. What’s been going on with you?”
“Nothing. Nothing is going on . War’s over. Everything is just fucking peachy over here,” Catra denies quickly, holding Melog a bit tighter as her anxiety swells.
Angella studies her for a moment. “Ah. I think I see the problem here. Perhaps we’ve got to find a better balance between communicating and giving you your space.”
“No. It’s fine. Everything is fine.” Catra refutes.
“It’s very certainly not fine, dear. But that’s alright, we can work through this and find a happy medium.” Catra doesn’t want to work through this just because she brought it up . Of course they’ll do whatever she wants, that’s who they are. She wants them to be around because they want to be. And clearly Micah doesn’t want to be -
“I shouldn’t have to ask him to care ,” Catra snaps and goddamit , why the hell are there tears in her eyes again -
Melog looks up at her before jumping out of her arms and taking their larger form. Angella looks like Catra might as well have just slapped her, because pure shock is written across her face. The door opens to Angella’s right and Micah appears, a bit winded.
“Catra? Angie? What’s going on?” He asks, making his way over to them.
Angella truly does seem to have realized what the problem is , and opens her mouth to speak. But it’s too late. Anything she’ll say - of course it’ll change things. Not because Micah cares , but because he’ll feel obligated by guilt to make more of an effort.
Catra can’t stand to be there and watch it happen, so she runs.
When Catra disappears this time, it is not because she’s gone off to save the world by herself or has been abducted by an evil space alien conqueror.
And she doesn’t simply disappear . She tells Adora, she asks for space, promises to return and is met with an accepting nod and comforting squeeze to her arm.
Melog senses she needs time for herself too because they hang behind as she ventures out onto the rooftop of the castle. Part of her knows if she really wants to run, wants space and to remain unseen, she has to commit to it. Go fast and run far to where no one would think to look - but that isn’t what she wants. She is tired and hurt.
She could run as far as she chooses, but the hurt will follow her wherever she goes.
And she knows, realistically, that there is no way Micah doesn’t care . It is moreso the fact that everything has changed; she has changed - they have all grown and she just wishes for the simplicity that they used to have.
Prime stole that simplicity, stole the bliss that came after defeating the Horde. He stole parts of Catra, and she just isn’t sure how to make sense of what is left of herself.
It is easier for her brain to revert to fears of being unloved than it is to accept the change. And it is far easier to blame any strain on their relationship on Shadow Weaver than it is to accept the truth that it is her .
She is sitting with her knees tucked to her chest, head looking to the side, when she hears him.
And she isn’t sure what would be harder to face; if he simply never showed at all, or having to face him now - knowing that Angella has told him and anything he does is simply to placate her.
“Hey, kid.”
She hates it. Hates how badly she needs to hear the words, hates how much comfort they bring even if they are only out of pity. Hates how she has to close her eyes to stop tears from falling because holy shit how does she even have any more tears at this point.
Catra doesn’t move even slightly - she feels like she just can’t. She also feels like she is just a brat and needs to get over whatever this funk is.
He doesn’t wait for a response before he clamors out of the window of the spire to sit beside her, “Mind if I join you?”
She tries to shrug, but it’s a bit awkward given the angle of her head.
The feeling of a blanket being draped over her causes her to startle, finally looking over to see Micah smiling warmly at her. Subconsciously she wraps the blanket around herself tighter, not even realizing how cold she had gotten until he offered it to her.
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
“No thank you ,” He counters with a cheesy smile, “See - what you might not know is that I’ve taken a solemn oath as Bright Moons Great Blanket Provider to ensure that everyone here has been issued only the best fabric that the kingdom can provide.”
The smile on her face is natural, involuntary. “Wow - didn’t know you got promoted.”
“Eh, less of a promotion and more like the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a person,” He explains, with put-upon cockiness. “Whole award ceremony - it was quite nice.”
“Sorry I missed it,” she says, her voice coming out a raspy croak, frown tugging at her lips.
“Hey now, don’t be sorry,” He comforts, nudging her gently with his arm, “They’ll be plenty more in the future.”
Huffing out a laugh she says, “You’re really confident about that, huh?”
“I’m confident that there are still a lot of great things ahead,” Micah tells her, eyes earnest and smile sincere.
Catra looks down. She wishes she could share the sentiment. She wishes for a lot of things, actually. But lately, so much of life just feels wrong.
It’s hard to say, but it’s even harder to dance around the subject.
“Guess Angella told you to check up on me,” Catra accuses, resting her chin on her knees and pointedly not looking at him.
“I have to admit, she did sort of have to spell it out for me,” Micah concedes.
Really, Catra would’ve preferred him to just know like he used to, but at least he’s being honest with her.
“What does that mean?” She bristles, despite knowing the answer.
“Come on kid. You can’t say you haven’t been avoiding me,” He calls her out and she winces, automatically jumping to defensive maneuvers - before she gives herself a chance to take a breath.
“That never stopped you before,” Catra points out, certainly not looking at him now that she can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
“Things are different now,” Micah relents, a confirmation of Catra’s fears, “And I’ve been trying to give you space . It’s not because I don’t care, and I should’ve made that clearer -”
“No shit things are different now,” She snaps, finally looking over at him. And she’s tired; too tired to care if he can see the redness in her eyes. “You don’t have to tell me things are different , alright? I feel it every fucking day.”
Micah frowns at the abrupt display of emotion, “Catra - ”
“No, you don’t get it!” She shakes her head, feeling heated and ripping the blanket off of herself as she stands up. “Kids, villagers, foreign officials - they look at me like I’m a monster - like I’m still one of Prime’s fucking clones. And yeah, maybe everyone knows I saved the world but that wasn’t projected across the planet ! And I hate it, I hate that I worked so hard to fucking be a better person and Prime ripped that away from me. People are afraid of me now.”
“I’m sorry. We can-”
“We can what? ‘We’ as in me and Adora? Me and Angella? Me and the whole god damn Alliance minus you?” Catra’s voice is tighter, thinning with a lack of air as she continues to speak without pausing for breath, “Because there is no we as in you and me anymore!”
“That’s not true,” Micah refutes calmly, “I’ve always left your seat at the library open. I’ve offered time for us to train together like we used to. Catra, I’m trying here.”
It’s true, and he is trying, Catra knows that, but it’s not the same. Because -
“You know what? I don’t even care how random people look at me. I mean, sure, I care a little but that’s not the problem. The problem is that you look at me differently now too!” Catra says, anger and mounting frustration finally boiling over.
This is it - the heart of the matter. Everyone - every thing else may be salt in the wound, but they are not the wound itself.
“And I hate it. It’s like you just gave up. And you never gave up - not when I threatened to claw your eyes out on Beast Island or pushed you into lakes, or even after what Prime did to me,” She knows it isn’t true. Knows that, realistically, he never could stop caring about her, but it feels true.
“You used to annoy me until I talked about my feelings. Or trick me into going to the library,” She says wistfully, not looking at him as he stands up. She is half-worried he is going to leave and take their relationship to a point of irreparability as he goes.
“Catra, do you want to know what changed?” He asks, very simply as if she didn’t just lay her soul bare before him. She keeps her gaze on him, fiery and angry when he says, “You. You grew up. You have Adora and Melog; Glimmer and Bow - you have a whole life you built for yourself.”
“So what?” She challenges, “It’s my fault I grew up?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Micah shakes his head in denial, “What I’m saying is you don’t need me to drag you into talking about your feelings. Or lecture you about magic. You’ve come so far - you’re so strong . You don’t need to be taught these things, you do them on your own now. And that’s a good thing - a great thing, actually. I’m proud of you.”
She wants to call him a liar but it’s a little hard to deny when his eyes are beaming.
“But also, if I’m being honest - I’m afraid,” Micah confesses when she looks up at him in surprise. “Catra...I tried very hard to hold everything together after Prime. I had already almost lost you on Beast Island, and then with the Portal. I...the thought that you might not make it off his ship, I never let myself believe it was even a possibility. I couldn’t.”
Subconsciously, his hand runs over the marks on his upper arm, the burns from Catra’s magic that stopped Shadow Weaver’s poison.
“Nevermind the fact that Glimmer was gone too. I lost Angie for a few days before you and Glimmer got back to Etheria,” Micah swallows thickly, “I always thought...nothing could be harder - nothing could hurt as bad as being ripped away from my family and sent off to Beast Island. But then I lost you, too. All three of you were...just gone .”
Catra’s heart hammers, her stomach swoops as it feels like it’s been punched with guilt.
“And you came back - but it was different. Prime...if Adora hadn’t exorcised him from Hordak, I would’ve taken care of him myself,” It is more than a threat; it’s a promise, she can tell that much. “Catra...how can I force you to share your feelings or make you come to the library or train or do anything against your will when that is exactly what Prime did to you?”
The question forces a gasp out of Catra because there is no way Micah could possibly compare himself to Prime -
“Prime hurt you. And I’m afraid I...I don’t understand that hurt. I understood well enough what Shadow Weaver had done to help you through it. But Horde Prime, I have never experienced anything like. I mean, I wasn’t even chipped and I - just,” He shakes his head, seeming to fail for words, “I just want to support you. But I don’t quite know how. All I do know is that I need to give you a choice .”
Micah is smiling sadly at her now. It hurts as much as it heals and it makes her angry as much as it makes her understand .
“I miss those days too, you know. Somehow things felt a whole lot easier when it was just the two of us escaping a pack of Pookas on a deserted island.” He tells her and she huffs out a laugh at that. “I know it’s rough right now but we can work through it, I promise.”
Her ears give the slightest twitch at his assurance, right before she looks at him again and says, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, kid,” Micah barely has his arms open in invitation for a second before she is jumping into them, causing him to catch her with a light oof . He only wobbles marginally before he catches their balance, even when precariously standing on the castle roof.
Adora hugs are untouchable , honestly - but she also missed this . Missed the feeling that accompanied a hug from Micah or even Angella - the warmth, the promise of protection, the knowledge that whatever deep, seemingly unfixable hurt will be soothed.
She cries just a bit, not because she has to but because she feels like she can. Because - well, maybe not everything is damaged beyond repair and maybe she isn’t the only one making sense of the mess Prime has left behind. Maybe Micah was by her side the entire time, navigating the same questions without her even realizing it.
It is a relief, it is an answer her brain is willing to accept. She can’t quiet the insecurities completely, but she can at least lower the volume on them.
Micah cares. He never stopped.
Catra is unwilling to break apart from the hug, but he isn’t rushing her either. Just eventually coaxes her back into sitting down and brings the blanket around her again. She leans her head on his shoulder and enjoys the warmth and contentment of the moment; the peace that comes with gaining security again.
“Some days I just don’t...feel like myself,” she admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence. She knows that he knows this, but it is something she’s been working on admitting. It feels like a betrayal, like she’s letting down Adora or Angella or anyone who’s ever fought for her. Despite how desperately she wants it to be a lie, it’s her burning truth. “I want to, but I just...don’t. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“It’s alright, Catra. You don’t need a justification for how you feel,” he says, “I think it’s only natural to feel this way after everything.”
“Is it ever going to stop?” She asks, feeling small.
“It won’t last forever,” he promises, “Not even the most violent storms do.”
Catra bites her lip. She believes him, it just doesn’t feel super possible right now. “I mean it's not...every day. Some days I feel fine, but other days - like, the meeting yesterday...it’s hard.”
“Bad days are inevitable,” Micah tells her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“But...what if,” She sighs, trying to swallow down her pride and say the words, “What if everyone gets - I don’t know... tired of the bad days? What if they don’t ever stop?”
The sun is setting before them, and even if it’s a bit chilly out, she can admit the warm, orange glow feels nice on her face.
Micah pulls back without releasing his hold. “Kid - listen to me: bad days or not, no one is leaving you. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, but trust me, family doesn’t give up on each other. We’re here by your side, no matter what. You got that?”
Catra gives a grateful nod before closing her eyes and resting back on his shoulder.
It doesn’t solve everything and she knows there is no chance of life returning to the way it was before but for the first time since the Heart, Catra doesn’t feel like it needs to.
They stay like that until the sun sets, Catra falling asleep beside him and staying asleep as he manages to carry her into Adora’s bed. Adora gives him an appreciative smile before Catra curls into her side.
And, true to his word, Micah is there for every sunrise and sunset thereafter - even on the bad days.