Chapter Text
Sing, muses, of brave Randor and his demigod children, of Adora and Adam destined to fight, of Adora and her lover, Catra, and the war of legendary proportions…
Mortals were not invited to Olympus often. That is what King Randor of Eternia was thinking as he made his way to the craggy peak of the mountain, and stared up at the home of the gods. They were watching him. From a palace built of mighty thunderheads and marble, Zeus sat impassively, his sky blue eyes giving nothing away. At least they aren’t thunderclouds, his mind murmured.
The other Olympians were staring at him as well, and he fought the urge to shrink under their gaze like a chastised child. He was not a small man. In fact, he was quite large, with the blood of Heracles adding strength to his muscles. He was the king of a small and humble kingdom on the far reaches of Etheria. He always valued his relationship with the gods above all else in his life, and tried to rule as fairly as possible. In short, he had no idea why he was summoned to Olympus.
“Randor, son of Miro,” Zeus said in a voice of crackling lightning and pounding rain. “Blood of my blood. I welcome you to the halls of your gods.”
“My thanks, great god,” he replied, bowing deeply. “I am honoured to be asked here, though I know not the reason.”
He heard a noise, like the shifting of fabric as someone settles in a chair, and suddenly a massive hand was on his shoulder. He glanced up, startled, and found Zeus in all ten feet of his glory standing over him. His face was like a clear day, camaraderie clear beneath the curls of his thick, black beard.
“Son of my blood have no fear. We see how you worship us, and we have invited you here as a reward!”
He tried to hide his suspicions but the gods must’ve seen something on his face. They laughed lightly.
“He does not believe you, father,” Apollo said, his dark golden eyes twinkling in amusement. “He will need to be convinced.”
“That’s not—” but before Randor could finish the sentence, Zeus was waving his hand.
The gods parted and a woman walked through, her blond hair and blue eyes glowing with godly light. Her skin was the deep shade of hammered bronze and she stood easily eight feet tall. A minor goddess, not one of the Olympians but still powerful.
“I present to you She-Ra, goddess of war,” intoned the King of the gods. Randor bowed his head low. She-Ra said nothing, her face a mask of indifference. “She is to be your wife.”
“My wife?” His head shot up in alarm. He was an older king, truly, though the grey had not touched his deep red hair or beard yet. He had never taken a wife, as he had no time to court any of the women that his courtiers suggested or threw at his feet. He glanced at the goddess and found her scowling fiercely. It was not something she wanted. “Does the goddess agree to this?” He would not take an unwilling wife.
“Nonsense,” growled Zeus, the clouds of annoyance flickering over his powerful face. “For your homage to us and your unerring faith, we give you this goddess. She will marry you, it has been decided by the pantheon.”
“I will not!” She hissed, unsheathing the sword that lay at her waist. “I would rather fight him to the death than marry!”
“Virgin goddesses,” snorted some god in the crowd. “Think they are so above everyone else.”
“Do you wish to face my wrath, Mara?” Zeus rounded on her, standing to his full height. Thunder grumbled across the sky and his eyes turned white as lightning flickered in his hair. He used a lesser known name for the goddess, one that caused her to wince, though she boldly drew herself up in Zeus’ face.
“May I propose a wager?” Randor found himself speaking. He clamped his jaws shut but now all the gods’ eyes were on him, predatory interest alight in all of them. “Perhaps the lady and I may duel? Should she win, she may take my life and my kingdom. Should I win, I take her hand in marriage.”
She-Ra’s eyes went round in shock. “I do not kill mortals needlessly, nor will I marry you!” She snarled like a wolf.
“That’s only if you win that you would kill me, my lady.” He smiled jovially at her and the gathering of gods murmured of his boldness. “And should you marry, I would only have you for a year. One year is the blink of an eye in your immortal life. Should it be so horrible? Once the year is up you may do as you please, it shall not cause me any harm.” The goddess frowned, her immortal face one of confusion. In all her long life, had anyone shown her any such kindness before? He turned back to Zeus, whose eyes were now the dark grey of a winter storm. Randor bowed lowly. “Does this please you, mighty King of the Gods?”
The god chuffed like a lion and waved his hand. “So be it. The duel will commence at midday.”
***
When midday rolled around in a little over an hour after Randor spoke with the gods, he found himself in an amphitheatre, surrounded on all sides by gods, Titans, nymphs and satyrs. Zeus and the other Olympians sat in a special, boxed off area while the others gods and goddesses mingled with the other spirits who dwelt on Olympus.
“Are you sure this is what you want, mortal?” Someone asked behind him. He turned ad found She-Ra—Mara—standing behind him, dressed in a winged helmet, a golden cuirass, golden gauntlets and winged sandals. She looked completely in her element, though her eyes were wary. “There is a good chance you may not see your family again after today.”
“What family?” He responded. He was dressed in a heavy wool tunic, with a bronze breastplate and supple leather sandals. It wasn’t the most protective equipment but it had served him well in the wars and adventures he had had growing up. He picked up his ash wood spear and examined the iron tip carefully. “The only family I knew died years ago. I have no wife or heirs of my own. Should I die, then my name will be sung for eons in wonder, for I died facing a goddess. I am not ashamed by my wager.”
The goddess blinked slowly, and a grudging type of respect flickered briefly in her blue-grey eyes. Before more could be said between the two of them, a roar went up through the crowd as Zeus stood from where he sat on his throne.
“Randor, son of Miro, has challenged She-Ra, Mara, daughter of Zeus to a duel! Should he win, he shall have her hand in marriage, with She-Ra unable to challenge for one year. Should She-Ra win, she shall have the kingdom of Eternia, and Randor’s life should she wish it. The duel will be until first blood. These terms are binding as the word and will of the gods. This has been agreed upon by the Olympians and I swear on the River Styx that these terms will be followed through!”
There was a rumble in the air. Randor could feel the oath spoken by Zeus tightening around his heart and knew that he would die if he tried anything out of what they agreed. He nodded apprehensively as the god signalled to begin, and he looked at his opponent.
He barely had time to use his spear to deflect her blow as she swiped her sword at him. His arms rang with the effort and panic flared behind his eyes.
What was I thinking? She is a goddess of war! How am I going to beat her? Despite his brave words, he feared his imminent death, and the stories the gods would tell of this for eons to come. Of brave, foolish Randor who looked a gift horse in the mouth and questioned the will of the gods, and died for his idiocy. Again, She-Ra slammed her sword against the shaft of his spear. Wood chipped from it with cracks that made his heart leap in fear.
Control your fear, spoke the voice of his father in his head. You have the blood of gods and heroes in you, the strongest warrior to ever live. Harness their power and fight!
She-Ra was relentless. She came at him like a bull in a red fury, slashing and hacking in a raw and gruesome kind of beauty. She twirled and came at him at every angle. Finally, he dropped the two halves of his spear and twisted himself, coming up as the goddess turned with his own bronze sword raised. Within a few moments, he had sweat stinging his eyes. He had no idea how she hadn’t hit him yet. He was giving ground more than he was gaining it, and hadn’t the chance to go on the offensive yet.
“Are you sure this is what you want mortal?” She hissed in his ear as bronze and steel clanged with a harsh twang. “Are you certain this is worth fighting for?”
His limbs were leaden. He did not know how much time had passed, nor could he hear the wailing crowd. He was locked in a deadly dance with the spirit of war herself and his strength was reaching it’s limit. He panted heavily. She struck him in the chest with the pommel of her sword, denting the metal to his body. He coughed but ducked as that steel tip came down to strike him. It just missed his skin but sliced the buckles off his breastplate. He slipped out of the now useless armour and continued to duck and weave as she hacked. Right when he felt like he was going to faint, he felt it.
There, deep in his gut, was the stirring of a power long dormant. The well of strength and energy he did not know resided in him flooded his limbs and gave him a second wind. He flew back to his feet and suddenly, he was on the offensive. Hack after sloppy hack was bounced off that impossibly beautiful sword, but now She-Ra’s eyes were lit in a kind of excitement. Never before had someone fought back! This would be interesting.
The fight lasted all day and into the night. They seemed evenly matched with the trickle of immortal strength that found its way into Randor’s muscles, but one of them was going to win soon. He could feel the fatigue in his arms like a deadweight. Even She-Ra was panting, though no sweat yet marred her perfect skin.
It was a lucky hit. He had slipped on the now slick sand and as he went down, he thrust outwards with his sword. It was not enough to even be considered a wound, but still, She-Ra winced and glanced down at her thigh. There was a small scratch, and as they stared at it, a drop of golden ichor welled and fell to the ground, mixing with Randor’s sweat.
The moment it did, Apollo sat up straighter, his eyes blank and faraway. Zeus noticed too, his all-knowing gaze always landing on his son as he went through a vision, twitching and muttering silently with lips moving. As he came down from the vision, he turned to his father with eyes of liquid bronze, his prophet’s eyes.
“There will be twins,” he rasped. “Twins who hold the power of life and death in their hands. One shall die with the blood of the other on its hands. Both will be more powerful than their father, with strength and prowess in battle. Their strength will be enough to challenge even the gods themselves.”
Zeus was nothing if not a paranoid god. His face paled as he looked down at the two beings in the arena. This could be very dangerous indeed. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.
***
Randor and Mara held up their end of the deal and were married shortly after their fight. Mara’s eyes were dulled with defeat although she did her best to not allow her miserableness to interfere with her new husband’s life. She transformed herself into a more mortal friendly appearance. Her bright, blonde hair became brown and her figure shrank until she was only a head shorter than her husband instead of towering over him.
She never helped him with the ruling, only wandering the orchards and grounds of Grayskull, where they lived. Randor proved to be a gentle lover, and for that she tolerated lying with him, though both knew she only did so as she was bound to him for a year. When she became pregnant despite the odds, she wept. She only grew more apprehensive as she learned they were twins, having heard the prophecy Apollo spoke at their wedding.
Randor, on the other hand, was over the moon. He had forgotten the prophecy and instead just saw the future for his kingdom. Hopefully both would be boys and he could teach them the ways of combat and court, so they could rule together. But if both were girls, then he could marry them off to trusted princes across the land and their husbands could rule together.
The children arrived a few days before Mara’s sentence was up. She was giddy and restless and hadn’t noticed the signs of labor until they nearly bowled her over. It was a long and hard affair, which lasted almost three days.
The first of the twins was a male, golden and glowing with the light of his mother. He was robust, with a strong set of lungs and a full head of deep, red-gold hair. He would be powerful indeed. His eyes were all his father’s, dark and kind even at birth. Randor held him aloft and laughed in joy, pronouncing him then and there as Adam, son of Randor and heir to Grayskull and all of the united lands of Eternia.
The second twin was a slight and petite female, giving way to her brother’s glory even in the womb. She was smaller than him and more fragile. The god aura was still present, though with her it was much less noticeable. Mara could still sense power in her daughter, but it wasn’t overwhelming. She was made nothing like her father. Her body was the same shape as Mara’s mortal disguise; she would be tall and slim when she grew. She had a few wisps of white-blonde hair, a shade or two off from her immortal mother’s true hair colour, and when she opened her eyes, Mara’s icy heart melted. Her eyes were her mother’s, pale grey-blue and sharp as a hawk’s. She held her daughter close and murmured to her while Randor doted on his son. He could not think of a name for her, so for the last few days that Mara was in Grayskull, her daughter lay unnamed, forgotten by the nurses and her father alike in the beauty and charm of her brother.
“I must leave,” Mara announced on the day she was to leave. She knew she did not need to offer an explanation, but Randor had been good to her this past year. “This world was not meant to have a goddess as a mortal’s queen for long. It is time I return to my family.”
Randor peeled his eyes off of charming little Adam and looked mournfully at his wife. In truth, he had appreciated her company this past year. She had lit up the kingdom with her grace and had given him twins in return.
“At least let me give you something of me so that you may remember me in Olympus.” He set down their son and picked up his daughter, cradling her close to him. She may not be as awe-inspiring as her brother, but he still loved her. She was his blood, after all. Tears welled in his eyes as he held her out to her mother. “Please, take our daughter with you. You have seen how us mortals are captivated with her brother, and how she is forgotten in his shadow. Take her with you, so that she may dine and rule with the Olympians as a goddess in her own right.”
Mara blinked down at the infant, who was watching her with unfocused, serious eyes. She could leave, forget it all ever happened and start again as a detached and impersonal goddess, but in truth, she loved her children, and couldn’t bear to leave them behind. She hesitantly accepted the swaddled baby in her arms, cradling her close to her chest as she transformed back into her true form. Adam cried out for fright, and Randor shielded his eyes, but her daughter just blinked slowly and put a tiny hand on her mother’s large face.
She let out a watery laugh, kissed her son gently, and then was gone, bounding through the land as only a goddess could, her precious child pressed close to her chest. As the summit of Olympus came into view, so did her brother, Hermes.
The god of messages held out a hand to stop her from speeding past him.
“Hello, sister,” he greeted her. “Have you returned from your stay with the mortals?”
“Yes,” she sighed, feeling more at home then she had in a year. “It is good to be home.”
“What is that, in your arms?”
“My daughter. She has no name, I was hoping our father Zeus might be able to name her something worthy of her god status.”
The trickster god snorted. “God status? Sister, she is mortal.”
“The blood of She-Ra flows through her,” Mara snapped, a hand over the baby’s ears as if to prevent her from hearing. “That makes her a god in her own right.”
“The blood of the mortal also flows here. Father has decreed that neither of your children may enter Olympus. You must return her to her father, or else leave her somewhere for the wolves and lions to find her.”
She snarled so fiercely that her daughter whimpered. Hermes held up his hands.
“He is worried about the prophecy. Do you really want to test Zeus and his wrath? Do you not remember the Titans? Prometheus? You know how Zeus can be about slights against him. I wasn’t even supposed to warn you, but I do for the love I bear you. Leave the child. Come home with me.”
He held out a hand and Mara stared, grief-stricken at her daughter. How could she defy the will of the King of the Gods? But how could she leave her daughter to die on the mountain side? She cradled her daughter close and hummed softly to soothe the frightened baby. She turned her back on Olympus.
When she returned hours later, she was bereft of her child and her eyes were dulled. “It is done,” she muttered to Hermes, who still waited.
“Excellent. Come home, sister. We miss you.”
As he made his way through the streets of Olympus, Mara paused and turned back to the wilderness of the mountain side, where the moon was rising. “Farewell, Adora.”
***
Far below her, on a mountain slope near Bright Moon, a baby was crying. Angella, Selenae, the Titan goddess of the moon, looked down at her with a frown. She was bare, with nothing but the tip of a spear resting against her pale skin. The poor thing was wailing, starving and angry at the parent who left her on a goat path.
She took pity on the scrap, and landed nearby, folding her wings and approaching slowly. She picked up the spear first and immediately was overcome with a vision. A blur of images and a voice saying, Adora, daughter of Mara.
Angella blinked in shock and looked down again at the small child. She could see her sister’s pale blue eyes, the familiar rage in that face, and her blonde hair. There was no doubt. She scooped up the infant and looked towards the distant castle near the sea. She and Micah had been trying for ages to have a child of their own. Was her sister’s child adopted as her own good enough?
As she held the child, she reached out and grabbed a small fistful of Angella’s hair in her fury. Her heart melted at the innocent girl. If she did not take her, she would die. She used a fold in her dress to bundle the small babe into her arms, and then lifted herself into the sky to take off for home.
And that is where our story begins…