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Chapter Text

ACT I

Adora’s day had been going poorly, even before having to face down a maelstrom of stun blasts, deadly robots, and shadow lightning. 

She had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, veins buzzing with excess magical energy from earlier training. She'd only dozed off a few minutes before the alarm rang in her captain’s barracks. Any hope of holding onto the fast fading remnants of sleep was dashed when her private shower only had ice cold water.

Now she was tired and cold.

As Adora stormed out of the bathroom, she found her room deserted. It seemed Catra had left, perhaps even before she had woken up. Now she was tired, cold, and alone.

She sorted through her sparse closet, looking for a clean uniform that fit. She was going through a third growth spurt, which meant all of her current uniforms were quickly outgrown. Thankfully, there was one clean red jacket that fit.

She made her way through the metal halls of the captains barracks, body aching all over. She was looking forward to a nice meal in the mess hall, as the Force Captains received more rations than the cadets, and that didn’t include Adora’s extra allowance for her “extenuating circumstances.”

This dream was dashed when a random messenger - whose name Adora knew, but could not be bothered to remember - cut her off at the entrance. “Shadow Weaver requires your presence at training ground three immediately.”

Usually Adora tried to treat underlings with respect, but today was not a good day. A low, dangerous growl rose in her throat, and the messenger blanched before scurrying off. 

For a moment, she stood at a crossroads: follow orders and go to training to get the shit beaten out of her while hungry, or take her time grabbing a bite to eat, arriving late to training, then getting the shit beaten out of her on a full stomach.

The dutiful side of Adora won the war, and she begrudgingly turned away from the mess hall - stomach growling - and stomped her way towards training ground three. Now she was tired, cold, alone, and hungry.

She stopped outside the entrance, smoothing her features into a carefully neutral slate. She was a soldier. Soldiers had tough lives. They were free to complain about things all day long, but when it was time to work, they had to push weakness down and power through. So Adora powered through and stepped through the archway.

She was greeted with a vast, empty arena, pocketed with bits of red light along the walls. At the very least, she was home. This was her turf. Where she grew up faster than everyone else. Where she was the best. Or had been the best.

As her eyes focused on the ground itself, she spotted the other two members of her team. Force Captains usually commanded groups of twenty, but Adora was special and only had two.

Scorpia waved at her, shouting a greeting that was much too chipper for such an awful morning. Her exoskeleton gleamed in the minimal lighting of the arena, stinger swaying back and forth with that same peppy energy. Unlike Adora, Scorpia seemed to be having a great day.

Next to the captain, slouching against a small pillar that jetted out of the ground, was Catra. Her uniform was dirty, ragged in spots, and certainly not up to Horde standard. In other words, it was a perfect outfit for Catra. Her facemask was spotless however, shining in the dull light.

At Scorpia’s yell, her friend tilted her head towards Adora. From her stance, Adora could tell the feline was as tired as she was, but there was an edge to Catra’s face that broke through the weariness. Her tail curled in a seemingly random pattern, but was actually the coded language only she and Adora knew: talk later . 

Her blue and yellow eyes were tense, but not scared. Where there was generally aloof boredom, now there was a gleam that made her look even more beautiful.

Adora shook her head as she walked over. Where in the world did that last thought come from?

She made her way over to the pair, and once she had joined up, Shadow Weaver appeared from behind the pillar, even though Adora was sure that no one had been there just a second ago.

“Adora,” she purred as the three snapped to varying degrees of attention, “It is good that you have arrived on such short notice. I hope you are feeling up to the task today.”

“Yes ma’am.” No she was not. Not at all. Adora was tired, aching, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to go through a training simulation. But she would never say that out loud, and certainly not to Shadow Weaver.

“Good. Your team’s performance - and especially your own - has been lacking in recent memory. I expect you to do better. The simulation will be the same as the last time. You have one minute to prepare.”

And with that, Shadow Weaver left them, gliding over to the elevator that led to the control room of the training ground. The trio did not bother with any pleasantries. This had been their every waking moment for the past two months.

Scorpia went through a few basic stretches, muscles flaring as the giant warmed up. Catra yawned and cracked her neck, then flicked out her claws to loosen the tendons. She turned towards the vast expanse of the room, body tensing.

Adora? She transformed into She-Ra.

She was getting better at it. The first time she had attempted to transform, Adora had spent several minutes sweating and trying to corral the magic flowing through the sword. Shadow Weaver’s intense gaze had not helped matters.

Now, she transformed the golden vambrace on her right arm into the massive sword and shouted the words of power. Even after doing this for months, Adora still felt incredibly stupid in the process. 

Yet, golden light flooded the room for a split second, as magic suffused her entire body, washing away the aches and fatigue of the previous day. This part of She-Ra Adora loved. Feeling invincible as her body grew wider, taller, and stronger. A comically large broadsword became the perfect weapon in her now massive hands.

Adora took a few warm up lunges and jumps to get acclimated to She-Ra’s body. This was one of the many parts of She-Ra that she hated. It was like going through puberty again; while the power of She-Ra was intoxicating, the form Adora had to carry it in was awkward and unsteady.

The alarm blared through the room, signaling the beginning of the day. The terrain began to shift, creating valleys, mountains, buildings, and trees out of the floor. On the far side of the room, a growing roar of machinery made its way towards the group.

Without speaking, they charged ahead, making their way towards a pillar that housed a structure on top of it, making for a strong defensive position. Catra gracefully leaped the full height, landing on the top of the building. Scorpia took a longer route, slowly jumping up the surrounding pillars, before leaping over the chasm and digging her pincers into the wall. She vaulted over the wall, landing next to Catra.

Adora attempted to mimic Catra. She was still learning the full extent of She-Ra’s physical ability, but the leap up to the pillar should be easy enough. She crouched down before springing up into the air.

As it turned out, it was not an easy jump. Not that Adora lacked the explosiveness to make it that high; quite the opposite. She jumped too hard, nearly cracking her giant head against the ceiling, before crashing into the center of the structure.

She heard Scorpia leap down next to her. “Are you okay? You jumped like fifty feet in the air!”

“Nice landing dummy,” Catra snickered.

Adora popped up off the ground and rolled her eyes, “I’m fine . Just waking up still.” Any more attempts at comfort or sarcasm were put aside as the machine swarm made its way up towards their position.

She stared down at the endless wave, quickly coming up with a plan. “Catra, any sign of the lightning yet?”

Catra’s ears twitched as she concentrated, “No. Not yet at least.”

“Good. I’ll take point on the path leading up to our location. Scorpia fills in behind me, taking out or crippling any robots that get past me. Catra, you clean up and finish off the bots. Keep an eye on our backs and let me know when the lightning starts or if we are about to be surrounded.” Her squadmates nodded, and the three took off for the mob.

This, Adora was good at it. Overcoming obstacles through sheer force. Leading a squad. The robots were like flies to She-Ra’s power. It had only been the first day when Adora had realized that She-Ra’s armor was too thick for stun shots to pierce, which is why she always took point. Her sword cleaved through Horde steel like a knife through a hot ration bar.

Her muscles were powerful enough to cave in the computer brains of the machines, allowing her to inflict more chaos on the swarm. She trusted Scorpia to have her back, as one large bot got uncomfortably close to Adora - too close for her sword - before the giant woman cracked its casing with her pincers and threw it into the crowd.

Scorpia’s exoskeleton could handle some stun blasts, but she said they still hurt like hell and scratched up her shell. She stayed close to Adora’s back, using the warrior as a shield against the hail of blasts. The pair moved with a single mind, born out of countless hours of training. 

Behind Scorpia, Catra was a controlled whirlwind of sharp edges. Any bot that was left standing after the brute force of She-Ra and Scorpia had its brains sheared out by razor sharp claws. A tight smile lined her face as she cut through the swarm making its way towards their rear. The feline was agile enough to avoid the hail of green energy by herself, effortlessly weaving in her dance of destruction.

“Hey Adora! They’re starting to surround us!”

Adora wrenched her sword out of a particularly large bot, “On my signal, grab onto me and hold tight! Got it?”

“Got it!”

“Yeah!”

They fought their way to a more level surface, close to the ground. Adora transformed her sword into a long, golden lasso. She took aim for a nearby pillar with pseudo-branches sticking out of it. The rope looped around and pulled tight.

“Now!”

Dimly through the armor, Adora felt Scorpia’s pincers clamp into her side, and she assumed Catra was clinging to one of the two giant women. Her muscles flexed as she torqued the rope, launching the team into a controlled swing towards open ground. 

They landed and quickly dismounted. Adora turned to make sure Catra had gone with them, and was met with a scowl on the feline’s face. 

“Lightning incoming!”

At that signal, the trio split up. Adora going north, Catra and Scorpia east. 

The lightning was the worst part of the simulation. Adora didn’t know if it was magic or machine generated, but unlike the stun blasts, the electricity went right through She-Ra’s defenses. And more worryingly, it had an unsettling effect on making Adora lose control of She-Ra, where she then became a quick victim of the bots.

Curiously, Scorpia did not have the same problem as Adora did. The team had found that out on the second day lightning had been used in the simulation. 

Catra had been distracted fighting a bot off Adora’s back to notice the red bolt hurtling towards her. In a moment of courageous self sacrifice, Scorpia had tackled Catra, taking the full brunt of the blast.

The former Force Captain had immediately popped up to check on Catra, seemingly unaware of what had just transpired. It wasn't until the three of them were limping out of the training ground that Adora had remembered Scorpia absorbing the lightning with ease.

For a week or two, their strategies had been built around Scorpia being able to block any shadow lightning attacks, and their performance had soared. 

Until one session where an opaque storm cloud had gathered over their defensive position and assaulted the entire area with harsh electricity. Catra’s howls still echoed in Adora’s mind. 

Which is why they were now splitting up. Adora was much stronger than Scorpia or Catra, even combined. They would last longer this way. There hadn’t been a repeat of the lightning storm since the squad had begun to split up.

This was also around the time that Adora’s performance began to suffer. Adjusting to a new body that she hopped in and out of was bad enough, but on her own, she lacked the experience and dexterity to handle both a bot swarm and avoid lightning attacks.

She charged down the open lane, creating separation from the bots. Adora brought out her shield in preparation for the lightning, and it doubled as an excellent short range weapon. 

The crackle of electricity was hardly audible over the clomp of her massive steel boots on the hard floor, and Adora was barely able to turn around and block the blast with the shield. It could withstand lightning all day, but Adora herself could not.

Time seemed to both standstill and fly by, as Adora found herself punching and bashing her way through the Horde robots. At first, the lightning was infrequent, but the intensity quickly ramped up, until Adora was lucky to destroy one bot without blocking five blasts. 

And as the simulations always seemed to go lately, Adora got unlucky. Her shield caught on a metal exoskeleton, which let a nasty bit of lightning strike her arm. Her fingers jerked and spazzed, and she was just barely able to hang on to the shield, and more importantly, to She-Ra. A metal leg jammed down on her back, dropping the warrior to her knees.

There was a burning flash above her, and a brilliant bolt of red struck Adora square in the back. She slammed into the ground, a screech ripped out of her throat.

She fainted for a moment, white filling her vision as She-Ra tumbled out of her grasp. For a moment, Adora was at peace.

Then she was ripped back into reality; muscles stinging and seizing, tears leaking, and her head laying against the cold metal floor. Dimly, she was able to make out Scorpia and Catra’s valiant last stand.

Catra was heaving and gasping for air, they’d been fighting for so long. She tripped, forcing Scorpia to double back and block several lightning strikes from hitting her fallen friend. A powerful stun volley ripped into the woman’s side, blasting her away from Catra.

Catra slowly rose to her feet, multi-colored eyes darting between the advancing robot swarm and the crackling red sky. She made her decision, and darted for the bots. This was not the graceful, easy movement of earlier. She was sloppy, tired.

She bared her claws and attempted to slide under the incoming firestorm, but was much too slow. Several shots hit her in the upper body, flipping Catra’s body like a top as she crashed into the ground. 

The lights dimmed and the bots powered off. Adora’s weary eyes caught the faint movement of darkness as Shadow Weaver made her way over to them. She tried to get up and stand at attention, but her muscles were still paralzyed.

Their superior clucked their tongue, “Today was better than the past few weeks, but it is still disappointing. Sloppy. Adora, this was one of the worst performances I have ever seen from you, from the very start! Your plan was rigid. Your attacks were inefficient. You still have trouble controlling She-Ra after all this time. I expected better.”

Adora’s eyes shifted minisculely from the fringes of Shadow Weaver’s robes to the floor beneath her. This had been one of her worst days. Maybe it was the lack of food and sleep. Maybe it was just bad luck. Or maybe she just wasn’t good enough to be She-Ra.

Shadow Weaver continued, “Scorpia, your awareness was lacking (as always). You allowed multiple attackers to distract Adora, failed to defend your position, and sacrificed yourself for an already dead comrade.”

“Catra,” the woman in question gave a soft groan outside Adora’s field of vision, “The only thing I have to say about your performance is that you are fortunate today was a simulation and not actual combat.”

Adora struggled to speak, to defend Catra. Her friend had done really well today, why couldn’t Shadow Weaver see that?

But before Adora could get out a retort, Shadow Weaver said, “That is all for today. You will not have a second session this afternoon. I personally increased the severity of the simulation to teach you a lesson. One that you will learn in the coming hours. Dismissed.”

And Shadow Weaver floated away, unheeding of Scorpia’s soft protests, Catra’s shaky growl, or Adora’s fumbling words.

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Catra slammed down her tray, knocking crumbs of ration bars into the air. Emotionally, her little outburst was worth it, but physically, her shoulder was aching from the vibration. “The fuck is her problem? We lasted longer than we ever have before, and that was with it being ‘more severe’. And I swear she zapped me after the simulation ended!”

Adora mechanically chewed one of her ration bars, muscles still tight, as Scorpia tried to placate their friend. “Oh c’mon Wildcat, Shadow Weaver just has high standards. I’m sure she didn’t mean all of what she said. And we did end up failing, like we always do. But that just means we’ll have to try harder next time!” 

She swallowed and gave Catra a smile, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I thought you did great today. Definitely better than me.” She turned her eyes down to the tray, where two more bars sat. Rationally, Adora understood that she needed to be eating every last bar she could get her hands on. Between her new growth spurt and She-Ra, she was always running low on energy. She reached down and picked up the grey one.

But Adora was distracted, gaze vacant as the events of this morning rattled around her mind. 

Growling at a messenger just doing his job. Overshooting her jump. Every flawed strike she had made with her sword. The piercing stab of failure as she lost control of She-Ra. The tears that flowed from the paralyzing pain. The terrifying helplessness as Scorpia had to protect Catra, when it should have been Adora. The defeated look in Catra’s eyes as she made an impossible choice. Disappointing. Sloppy. Worst ever.

Her fingers spazzed and dropped the bar back onto the tray. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Scorpia, at the way the woman sat gingerly, nursing a bruised and discolored ribcage. The colorful bruises just barely visible through Catra’s dark fur. This was all her fault.

Adora glanced back down at her tray, which was blurry. Why was it blurry? Was she crying? No no no she could not be crying! Displays of physical and emotional weakness were strongly discouraged in the Horde! As casually as she could - which wasn’t that casual with her muscles still acting erratically - she moved as if to scratch her face.

Her finger came back as dry as her ration bars. So why was the room getting blurrier? Adora felt her chest tighten. She could hear Scorpia and Catra talking, but couldn't understand what exactly was being said. She was frozen, alone. 

Her fingers tried to curl into a fist, to give Adora some semblance of control, but whether it was because of the lightning or something else, they hung uselessly in the air. Her vacant eyes drifted towards the golden vambrace on the arm resting on the table. 

The turquoise runestone seemed to gleam mockingly at Adora. She hated the damn thing. She hated She-Ra. She hated magic. She hated this new destiny of hers. She wished she had never left in the middle of the night to find the sword. She wanted to be a regular, non-magical Force Captain with regular expectations of greatness. 

Adora didn’t know how long she sat like that. It could have been five seconds or five hours, and she wouldn't know the difference. She was finally jolted out of her trance when she felt sharp, soft pressure on her forearm.

“Are you okay?” In slow motion, she turned her head towards Catra. Heterochromatic eyes softly met hers, and Adora looked down to find claws wrapped around her arm. In the back of her mind, she remembered that she needed to breathe. 

She sucked in a deep breath, lungs greedily eating it up, before responding. “Yeah-” She let out a rough cough, “-yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking. And tired. And in severe pain.” Adora looked over at Scorpia to find her wearing a worried look. She didn’t need - or deserve - their pity. 

“Seriously, I’m fine. Just tired.” Adora made a pointed effort of casually taking a bite out of her ration bar. She garbled through the mouthful of food, “So what did you want to talk about earlier? I almost forgot.”

Catra gave her a mixed look, before relenting and letting Adora off the hook. Her multi-colored eyes darted around the rest of the hall, where the other Force Captains pocketed tables. “Not here. Let’s talk at our spot.”

Adora finished the rest of her meal without further complications, and the trio made their way to their spot. Not Catra and Adora’s spot on the roof; Scorpia had become a good friend of theirs, but the roof was only for the two of them.

The team’s spot was a secluded overhang on the fringes of a larger training ground, overlooking a rarely used simulation room. They would be alone here.

Adora collapsed on the ground when she tried to slide down against the wall. It seemed that today’s lightning had been extra powerful, as her muscles immediately gave out. Scorpia descended more gracefully and slowly. Catra remained standing, tail whipping back and forth as her eyes gleamed.

“I talked with Lord Hordak last night.”

The other two exchanged a confused glance. “What? I’m serious!”

Scorpia humored her, “Okay, I never said I didn’t believe you. But how exactly did you talk with Lord Hordak? How did you even see him? I mean, I was a Force Captain for years and I only saw him a few times, and that was only because of the deal my family made.”

Catra’s smile grew even wider, fangs poking out of the corners of her lips.

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Catra slunk through the halls of the Fright Zone. She didn't know where her destination was, nor did she care. The dark shadows and minimal lighting did nothing to deter her. She enjoyed wandering her home, discovering new secrets and flaunting security protocols.

There was the abandoned supply closet in the fourth floor of the armory, where she and Adora had found and played with real, live blasters as kids. There was the secret backdoor to one of the freezers, which Catra had often used to steal ration bars from whenever one of her squadmates had theirs withheld. There was the small nook in the hall above the classrooms, where Catra and Adora had run off to duck chores when Adora had been more rebellious. 

There was the war council chambers, which Catra had snuck into about a month ago. It was a bleak, boring room, and the only thing of note was the impressive throne that could only have been for Lord Hordak. She had grazed her claws along its armrests, imagining what it would feel like to sit in the throne. 

With Adora as She-Ra, maybe that day would actually happen.

Now, Catra wandered through unfamiliar halls. She wasn’t worried about getting lost; all Horde buildings had the same basic design to them, and once she was outside, it would be simple to return to the captains’ barracks. She wasn't supposed to sleep in the same bed as Adora now that Adora was captain, but rules had never stopped her before.

So far, it seemed that Shadow Weaver was unaware of the arrangement, so Catra had little to fear. 

She rubbed her bicep, grimacing. Today’s simulation had been awful on every front. The chemistry had been missing, so they had quickly failed. So Shadow Weaver made them run it again. And again. And again. 

On the final run, a large snake of shadow lightning had weaved its way around Scorpia and Adora, embedding itself in Catra’s arm. Her hackles raised as she remembered the scream she let out. Her arm felt like it had been dipped in acid.

Shadow Weaver had tried to make them go again, but in a moment of uncharacteristic defiance, Adora had put her foot down, putting the wellbeing of her team above orders. It helped that Catra could barely move.

She was shaken from her thoughts as a flickering light came into view down the hall. After passing through an overhang, Catra found herself looking out at a massive forge. It was full of moving parts, glowing fluids, and glaring lights that were foreign to her. There was activity along the floor, but the workers were too invested in their work to notice Catra.

She made her way along the wall, keeping to the shadows and jumping onto the pieces of machinery that looked safe.

It was interesting to observe the work being done here. There was a modified Horde tank cannon, stripped down to its basic parts, alongside a smaller handheld replica. A man heaved the replica onto a cart, then fired it at a slab of blue rock. The machine roared and spat out a blood red blast, smashing into the wall. When the dust cleared, a scorch mark had appeared on the rock, but the structure was intact otherwise.

Catra moved on, finding another scientist tinkering with a green liquid. She poured the liquid into a vat of what looked to be water, before tossing a match. The water erupted in ghoulish flames, casting creepy shadows. But after only a little while, the fire sizzled out, leaving behind a mucky liquid in the vat.

Her ears flattened against her scalp when a high pitched whine filled the space. Catra turned towards the source, and found a machine of alien design rising in the air. 

It lacked the hard, rigid body of the Horde’s other vehicles. It was angular, with spinning blades affixed on outstretched wings. The chassis tapered into sleek black points at the back of the machine. In the front, a plane of glass reflected the light, making it so that Catra was unable to see inside. 

In a way, it was beautiful, if Catra ignored the whine. She had no issue with the rugged, simplistic design to the Horde’s tanks and transports, but this new thing was so much better. Unlike the previous experiments, this one seemed to be a success.

The machine steadily hovered in the air for minutes, as a team of workers made its blades tilt and spin. It rotated 360 degrees without turbulence. Catra was confused when the workers scrambled away from the craft, and those working on top of it rappelled down. Then she saw the fully operational tank raising its cannon.

A deafening roar cut through the muffled air, as a destructive blast made impact with the machine. When the smoke cleared and Catra’s ears stopped ringing, she was met with loud cheers, as the experiment continued to hover perfectly level. The shot had not even left a mark on the armor.

A deep, gravely voice rose up from behind Catra. “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

She let out an undignified yelp and jumped ten feet in the air. Standing in front of her was a man as large as Scorpia. A blood red cape sat upon broad shoulders, accenting cybernetic arms. Dark red eyes stared down at Catra. The Horde symbol was emblazoned upon his chest.

Lord Hordak.

Catra quickly remembered every bit of etiquette and respect she had been taught, snapping to attention. “Lord Hordak?” her voice squeaked.

He stared down at Catra for a few agonizing seconds, eyes staring into her soul, before his lips quirked slightly.

“Catra, is it?” She frantically nodded her head. “Walk with me.” And the leader of the Horde marched past her. She stood there, stupefied, for a second. She had been caught spying on military secrets by Lord Hordak himself, and yet she was still alive. 

Or maybe he didn’t want to kill her in front of an audience and disturb their work.

Catra hastened to fall in line behind Hordak. She remained tongue tied. Should she say something? Should she wait for him to speak to her first? None of her training had ever covered talking with the Lord of the Horde!

They made their way past the scientists Catra had been spying on, who quickly stopped their cheers to salute their leader. Hordak made his way deeper into the forge.

Finally, he spoke, “I assume you are wondering why you are still alive after committing treason. Men have been put to death for less than what you have done tonight.” Catra gulped and shakily nodded her head. “Know this: your fate rests on these next few minutes.”

He turned towards her, towering over the diminutive woman. “I will ask you one question: why were you spying on Horde secrets?”

“I-” her voice quavered, “I didn’t know there were military secrets in this room. I was just wandering the Fright Zone, like I always do at night. I didn’t mean to spy on you. It was an accident. Please, I’m sorry. ” 

Hordak was silent for a minute, and Catra used that time to hastily scrape together an escape plan. Hordak was tall and powerfully built, but she could certainly outrun him. Then there was a whole room of loyal Horde scientists in her way, working on incredibly dangerous weapons. If she made it out of the forge, Catra was confident she could make it back to Adora.

But would Adora leave the Horde for Catra? She was the perfect soldier and had just found some shiny new destiny. Adora was going to be the hero that won the war for the Horde. Would she really give all of that up for Catra?

Her frantic thoughts turned out to be for naught. Hordak tilted his head at her and grumbled, “I see.”

When he made no move to attack or condemn her, Catra sucked in a deep breath.

“You are one of Shadow Weaver’s protégés, are you not?”

She was caught off guard by the question. Just a minute ago he was ready to execute her, and now he was asking Catra about herself?

“Ye-yes, my lord.”

“And tell me: are you loyal to the Horde?”

“Of course I am!” Maybe she said that a bit too loud.

Hordak was unphased by her shout. “And you are friends with Force Captain Adora, are you not? Shadow Weaver’s other ward?” She nodded her affirmative. “Is she loyal to the Horde?”

Catra was barely able to restrain herself from doubling over in laughter. Adora? Not loyal to the Horde? That was like asking if Shadow Weaver was a good mother. She coughed to hide her laugh, “Yes, my lord. One hundred percent.”

“I am sure you are wondering why I am asking these questions of you.” She nodded again. “As lord, I am much too busy to concern myself with the day to day operations of training mere foot soldiers. This, I leave to Shadow Weaver and my captains. Yet for the past twelve years, my desks have been cluttered with reports on Captain Adora. Shadow Weaver has an infatuation with her. This has never happened before with any other cadet.”

“I dismissed these reports, as they were irrelevant. Even so, I knew Captain Adora’s entire life story because of them.” Catra wondered if Shadow Weaver had sent reports about her to Hordak, saying what a terrible and disrespectful recruit she was. Unlikely in the end; Shadow Weaver took out all of her hate for Catra in person. 

Hordak continued, “When Adora was promoted to captain, I thought little of it. But when she returned with a magical artifact of near limitless power - power only she can control - I became interested. So I decided to observe her training.”

Catra’s breath caught. So Hordak had watched the three of them get pummelled by Shadow Weaver for the last two months? Not the most encouraging performance.

“Captain Adora - She-Ra - is powerful. Powerful enough to turn the tides of this war. This I already knew, but I found myself watching someone else. I already knew the capabilities of former captain Scorpia, as she was a loyal follower of mine for years. However, it was Shadow Weaver’s other protégé that caught my eye.”

She felt really uncomfortable right now. When people said that Catra caught their eye, they usually meant it in the same vein as toxic waste catching the eye. But Hordak surprised her.

“I saw a soldier with rare - unique even - abilities. Ones that I have not seen in a very, very long time. I ordered a report on you, and was confused to discover that you were also a ward of Shadow Weaver. She has never spoken of you to me. This development is troubling.”

Catra shifted under the praise. Outside of Adora and Scorpia, Hordak had just said the nicest thing anyone had said about her.

“When Adora was rescued as an infant, Shadow Weaver offered to take her in, saying that she possessed ‘great power’. I thought nothing of it. And then she developed an obsession with the girl. While you appear to be Adora’s equal, Shadow Weaver has no use for you. But now Adora wields the power of a god. ”

Now Catra was beginning to understand where the conversation was headed.

Hordak said, “Tell me your opinion on Shadow Weaver. While she is nothing but subservient to me, I have found that humans are capable of wearing many masks.”

Catra took this opportunity with gusto, “If I can be blunt, my Lord, Shadow Weaver is an awful bitch. She withholds rations for minor offenses among the cadets. She’s hateful, vindictive, and despises me for no reason. She tortured me as a kid. I hate her.”

He ignored her crass language, shifting slightly, “But is she ambitious?”

“Oh absolutely!”

He smiled, red mouth stretching to reveal perfect metal teeth, and turned to observe the flying machine in the distance. “This conversation has been most illuminating, Catra. For now, you have proven your loyalty to me. You are forgiven for your earlier transgression.”

The fifty pound ball of stress evaporated, leaving Catra much easier to breathe. Her shoulders loosened, and her claws retracted.

Hordak began walking again, heading back towards the entrance of the forge. She was lost in thought as she did the same. What the hell had just happened? She just held an actual conversation with Lord Hordak - and it was cordial. He had complimented her.

They stopped under the archway. Her lord spoke, “While you are excused for tonight’s actions, do not repeat your mistake. I will not be so merciful a second time.”

“Yes sir.”

Hordak gave a full smile to her, “You interest me, Catra. You are dismissed.”

And with that, Catra saluted and made her way out into the open air. She found a railing to perch on, eyes unfocused, chest heaving, mind racing.

Holy shit.

------------------------------------------------------------

As she finished her story, Catra was pleased to see Adora and Scorpia’s jaws hanging. Their mouths moved, but no noise came out. She preened and leaned back against the railing.

Scorpia was the first one to break free of the spell, “Wildcat that’s amazing! You spoke to Lord Hordak! Do you know how many people in the Horde would kill for that opportunity? And he said he liked you!” The giant surged forward, wrapping Catra in a crushing hug. “See? People do respect you.”

She blushed at the close contact. Her eyes found Adora’s, as her friend still stared off in the distance. Within a few moments, those sharp blue eyes focused, meeting Catra’s, as Adora gave a wide smile that set Catra’s skin ablaze. 

Scorpia pulled back, letting Adora have her moment. Her wide hand reached out to snag Catra’s wrist in a snug embrace. “Yeah that’s awesome! I am so happy for you Catra.” And with the way her smile shone like the moons, Catra believed every word of it.

The three of them sat up there for a while, in various degrees of uncomfortable poses. It would have been better to return to the captains’ barracks and rest on actual beds, but they were too tired from training and Catra’s tale to bother. A cool breeze swept through, lulling the women into a soft sleep.

Catra woke up after a few hours, already feeling better. She checked the moons’ positions and decided they might as well head back to the mess hall for dinner. Force Captains could still get their meals even if they did not arrive on time, which was a welcome change from the life of a cadet.

She dragged her claws lightly over Adora’s cheek, careful to avoid the drool trails. The blonde slowly woke up, giving a dreamy smile that made Catra’s heart skip. Scorpia was a heavier sleeper, so Catra gave a few flicks to her scalp where the white hair was buzzed down. 

The trio trudged through the Fright Zone, shaking the stiffness out of their bodies. But before they came close to the mess hall, they were intercepted by a messenger, who handed Adora an official looking piece of paper.

After the messenger had left, Catra asked, “What’s on the paper?”

“Orders from Shadow Weaver: we’re to debrief in her office immediately.”

Debrief? As in mission debrief? Meaning they were finally getting an actual mission? Catra’s heart raced as they made their way into Shadow Weaver’s office, not entirely from excitement. 

The Black Garnett cast long shadows along the red walls, crackling with electricity every few seconds. A large oak desk, overly ornate, sat in front of the runestone. Catra’s least favorite place in the entire world.

The woman in question stood facing away from the door, staring deep into the Black Garnett.

“You wanted to see us, ma’am?” The message was sent to Adora, so it was Adora who asked. Catra was more than happy to let her friend do so; Shadow Weaver was not in a good mood.

“You are being assigned to your first mission, against my better judgement. You are nowhere near ready, but he does not seem to care.” The officer’s voice was strained and trembling.

“Ma’am?”

“Your team is being sent to Salineas in one week’s time.” 

The already chilly air seemed to freeze over in an instant. Catra jerked her head to the side to see if the other two had heard the same thing. Scorpia’s eyes were wide as she sputtered. Adora had a thousand-yard stare as her jaw clenched.

Salineas was by far the worst theater of the war to be assigned to. Putting aside Catra’s personal distaste for water and boats, it was the most deadly conflict in terms of Horde losses. For years, the Horde navy had attempted to break through the Salinean defense, to take control of Etheria’s oceans. But there were four major problems.

First, the kingdom of Salineas was impossible to attack through land. The main city and castle were separated from the central continent of Etheria by twenty miles of ocean, rendering most of the ground army useless in the endeavor.

Second, Salineas could only be reached through the wider ocean, not the straits on either side. Perhaps if the Horde were to ever break through the Whispering Woods, it could establish forward bases to circumvent the issue. That was equally as unlikely, as the Woods remained an impenetrable obstacle.

Third, the Salinean fleet greatly outclassed the Horde’s. While their ships were a combination of timber and magic, the Horde could only use metal. Salinean ships were faster, more agile, and of higher quality, whereas the Horde’s advantage was the raw power of its cannons and the cheap cost of manufacturing. 

Fourth, Princess Mermista. Easily the most dangerous princess in the world when connected to her runestone and an unlimited power supply. Fighting the ocean princess in the ocean predictably was a disaster. She was able to raise tidal waves high and strong enough to protect the city and seagate from a Horde salvo, and then used said waves to sweep away the invaders.

Many a ship had met its grave from being topsized, flooded, or outright swallowed by the ocean. Yet the Horde had to continue the campaign, lest it give Salineas the opportunity to go on the offensive. Such an event would mean a swift death to the Horde.

Salineas was a meat grinder, and Shadow Weaver was throwing three untested soldiers into the fray.

Catra found her voice first, “Are you crazy? That’s a suicide mission! We’re not ready!” 

She regretted yelling when Shadow Weaver whirled at them, darkness flaring out as the room dimmed. “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT! YOU THINK I WANT TO SACRIFICE ADORA FOR SOME WORTHLESS KINGDOM?” 

Catra pinned her ears back, hissing and unsheathing her claws. She took a step towards Adora for support. Scorpia did the same, and their leader stood tall in the face of pure rage.

She couldn’t see Adora’s face, but it moved Shadow Weaver to reign herself in. When she spoke, it was in that disgusting, oily tone, “I cannot change this decision. Lord Hordak himself gave the order. And who am I to defy my Lord ? You will go to Salineas and you will triumph. Or you will fail. I expect the former of you, Adora.”

Adora shakily nodded. Shadow Weaver gave a disgusted flick of her wrist, dismissing them.

It felt like a death march as the women made their way back to the barracks, appetites completely gone. They reached Scorpia’s room first, who closed the door immediately, without saying “good night” like she always did.

In their room, Adora didn’t bother turning the lights on. She kicked her boots off on the floor, and did the same with her pants. She took the time to lovingly set her red jacket on a hanger, but the long sleeve shirt met the same fate as her boots. She ripped her headband off, dirty hair falling like a curtain. Clad in a basic sleep shirt and shorts, Adora curled into a ball on the bed.

Catra was about to lay down at Adora’s feet when her ears caught a near imperceptible sound. Sobs. Shaky, soft, and hidden, but sobs. 

She froze. It had been years since Adora had cried, not since they had been nine and Adora had broken her arm in a training exercise. Catra had no idea what she should do. Pretend it wasn’t happening and save Adora’s pride? Try to comfort her, as payback for all of the times Adora did the same for her?

She knelt down and whispered, “Adora, you okay?” Her answer was more pathetic whimpers and sobs. Catra was stumped, but then instinct took over. 

Gingerly, she pried Adora out of her tight ball, holding onto her wrists as she straightened her best friend out. Catra then laid down facing Adora and wrapped herself around the blonde. She could feel the tears leaking down onto her shoulder, but that was irrelevant right now.

Catra nuzzled into Adora’s neck, purring as she tried to calm her friend down. She felt Adora’s breath hitch when the purring started, but then her breathing began to steady out. They laid that way, Catra wrapped around the larger Adora, purring and shifting slightly as Adora began to stabilize.

If the circumstances hadn’t been so terrifying, Catra would have been in heaven.

Adora eventually calmed down enough to form words. “ I’m scared. ”

Catra caught her breath at the confession. Adora was never scared. She was the best. Perfect. Always triumphing over every obstacle. And now she was admitting fear. She didn’t know how to comfort her friend, but she had to give it a shot.

“Hey, I am too.” Catra gently dragged her claws along Adora’s scalp, trying to relax her. “It’s scary. But we will come up with a plan. We always do.” She pulled back so that Adora could see the smirk she was forcing. “And how are we going to end up ruling the world if we can’t even beat one measly princess?”

Adora choked out a sob as she tried to smile back. “If it were any other one, then maybe? But Mermista? I can’t beat her. I can’t even beat the stupid simulations.”

“You don’t have to beat her. We do. We’re a team, Adora. Let us help you.” Wow, that was actually inspirational.

Adora buried her face in Catra’s neck. “But I don’t want you to have to help me. Not because you aren’t strong enough, but because it’s too dangerous. You can’t fight a princess. Only She-Ra can. I can’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

“And I wouldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. You have to trust me, Adora.” Catra reached down to brush the stray strands of golden hair that were in Adora’s face. Watery blue eyes met yellow and blue. 

Catra rested her cheek on Adora’s head, pulling her in tight. “It doesn’t matter what happens. You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing bad will happen as long as we have each other.”

Adora sobbed, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

Adora sprinted down the corridor, giggling as she chased after Catra. The gangly teen fell several times as she rounded corners, barely keeping Catra’s tail in her line of sight. It wasn’t fair how fast and coordinated Catra was, as the feline effortlessly showed off, running along the walls and swinging from the ceiling while Adora couldn’t even keep her footing on the ground.  

They had found this two story building on the edges of the Fright Zone, clearly abandoned for years. With chores finished already, school work completed (with Adora helping Catra), and no training scheduled for the next day, the girls had decided to spend their free time exploring the Fright Zone. 

Which is how Adora was running through a dilapidated building that might have once been a school, or a barracks, or a mess hall. The halls were in various states of disrepair: floors upended, wires hanging out of the ceiling, and walls caved in. It made for a tricky obstacle course, but that was part of the fun!

Adora tried to speed up as she rounded the next corner, but her foot caught on some debris. When she rounded the corner fully, she was surprised to find Catra right in front of her, obviously attempting to shock her friend. 

Already falling down and now startled as well, Adora had far too little runway to avoid crashing into Catra. As they fell down to the metal floor, Adora wrapped Catra in a tight hug and rolled her upwards.

She let out a sharp gasp as Catra’s bony body landed on top of her. She looked up at the girl and found those yellow and blue eyes glittering with amusement, before the feline erupted into a giggling fit. Adora quickly joined her as they laid on the floor, the slight ache from her fall forgotten.

They both stopped giggling at the same time, as they looked into each other's eyes. 

Catra was stunning; Adora wished she could look that beautiful. The hypnotic shine to those heterochromatic eyes. Her thick hair was beginning to grow long enough to make a mane of lush brown. The way her lithe body looked and moved effortlessly. The small poke of her fangs when she smiled down at Adora, like she was the most important thing in the world.

Adora froze as her world narrowed, until she could only see Catra. Catra stared down at her, with a similarly reverent expression. The two girls were pulled together by an invisible force, lips softly coming together as they closed their eyes.

As Adora opened her eyes, she was met only with the dark ceiling of her captain’s barracks. Her heart fluttered as she felt the ghost of their kiss fade from her lips. It felt so real, so powerful, that Adora was tempted to lean over and do it again with the real Catra sleeping curled in her arms.

This was a new development for the two of them over the past week. Ever since the night of the debriefing, when Adora had broken down and Catra comforted her, they no longer slept separately. That night, Adora fell asleep in Catra’s arms, and for the first time in months, she was not plagued by visions and nightmares. 

The next morning, the two had woken up to Adora snuggled under Catra’s chin, with Catra tightly holding her. Neither addressed the moment verbally, but had reached a mutual understanding that they would keep doing this. 

And why shouldn’t they? Adora was not doing anything wrong by sleeping with Catra at night. Okay, not that kind of sleeping. But Catra comforted her, made her feel safe. And although Adora didn’t bring it up, she noticed an improvement in the feline’s own sleep quality. So at the end of long days spent stressing over her fast approaching date with a blood thirsty princess, Adora snuggled with Catra in her comfortable captain’s bed. Just snuggled.

That didn’t mean Adora didn’t want to kiss Catra and tell her just how much she cared about her best friend. It would mean the whole world if she took the chance to do so. But she understood that Catra wasn’t the best at dealing with putting her feelings into words. So Adora didn’t know if Catra felt the same way about her, and she would not risk the one good thing in her life for her own selfish desires.

Besides, with the mission looming over both of their heads, Adora didn’t want to confess her love to Catra when one or both of them could easily be dead in the next few days. She wouldn’t inflict that kind of heartbreak on Catra, and Adora herself could not go on living if Catra died and she lived.

So Adora lay there, stuck in the in between of her emotions. It wasn’t fair . She had never asked for anything in her life, so why couldn’t she have Catra? 

She accidentally jostled the woman in question, who gave a wide yawn and blearily peered up at Adora. Adora’s heart melted at how soft Catra looked, and she wished so desperately that her dream could be true. 

“What’re you looking at?” Catra slurred. Adora realized she was staring deep into those blue and yellow eyes.

She blushed and turned her head slightly, so that Catra would not see her eyes dart about, “Nothing!” Thankfully Catra - still half unconscious - believed the lie and snuggled back into Adora’s chest.

They laid in the soft blankets for a little while; Catra’s soft purrs vibrated the mattress and Adora’s heart. Eventually she pulled herself up off Adora’s chest. “Today’s the day, isn’t it?” She moved towards the bottom of the mattress.

“Yeah.”

Adora watched Catra’s body tense, then make as if to stand up, before she eventually spun around and flung herself at Adora. The blonde grunted as Catra squeezed her in a crushing hug, tighter and more vulnerable than she had ever allowed herself to be before.

“Just...promise me you’ll come back. Okay? Please.”

Adora eventually regained control of her limbs, returning the hug. “Only if you do too.”

As one, they said, “I promise.”

They held each other tightly, soaking in every moment as if it were their last. And it very well might be. 

The tranquil moment was broken by the stabbing of the alarm. Catra broke the hug, turning quickly to get dressed, but Adora still caught the sheen in her eyes. 

The magic between the women was broken as they got dressed; both of them making pointed efforts to not look each other in the eye, lest their emotions spiral out of control. Adora took her time buttoning up her jacket, fixing her hair, and grabbing the sword of She-Ra. Her ship would not be leaving without her.

Catra was more hurried, slipping on a clean uniform, after which she pinned Adora’s captain badge to it. She raked her claws through her brown mane, taming it just enough to be presentable. She scampered to the door, cracking it, before looking back at Adora. 

“Good luck.” And then Catra was gone.

Adora stood there dumbly for minutes, before collapsing back into the unmade bed. This was really happening. She might have seen Catra for the last time. She might never gaze into those mesmerizing eyes, feel her legs tickled by a mischievous tail, or snuggle deep into soft fur at night.

This was the beginning of the end, the end of whatever life Adora had led up to this point. After today, she would no longer be Force Captain Adora to the world. 

She would be She-Ra,  a walking goddess. The Princess of Power. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Catra dug her claws into the side of the Horde command ship, struggling to keep down last night’s dinner. She hated ships. She hated water. So of course she was stuck on a giant ship in the middle of the ocean. The woman standing next to her wasn’t helping matters.

“Ah, don’t you just love the seabreeze? The smell of salt in the air? The pristine beauty of the untouched world? The unstoppable march of a war machine that may or may not be taking us to our deaths? No wait, that’s a bad thing.”

Seven hours Catra had suffered like this, body betraying her and her only friend - she guessed Scorpia qualified as a friend now - blabbering on and on. And those weren’t the worst parts.

No, the worst parts were as follows:

One, Catra might never see Adora again. The blonde had made her promise to come back safe, but Catra was not the one about to fight a princess in single combat. It had taken all of her willpower this morning not to bail on the plan, to grab onto Adora tight and plead with her to run away, to find a life where they wouldn’t have to risk death just to be around each other. But she had been scared, cowardly, and now this could be the end.

And two, Catra’s side of the plan was risky, to say the least. “Treasonous” might be a more apt description. She and Scopria had practiced for the past week, but there were so many variables that could not be controlled. Stowing away on the command ship of the fleet was by far the easiest part of their mission.

Catra survived the next hour without major incident, and now the plan could begin, with the fleet roughly two hours away from making contact with Salineas, meaning she had one hour to execute her side of the mission.

The pair made their way to the bridge, relying on Scorpia’s reputation and Adora’s captain badge - which Catra had put on Scorpia’s armor once they boarded - to avoid suspicion. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest everytime an officer made their way past them. But for once in Catra’s life, fate smiled on her, and they survived without incident.

A large metal door loomed before Catra and Scorpia, the only thing between them and the bridge. She turned towards the larger woman and asked, “You trust me, right?”

Scorpia turned and gave her a slight smile, “Yeah Wildcat, I trust you.”

“Then let’s do this.”

Scorpia grabbed onto the locking mechanism and flexed her muscles, causing the steel to groan as the lock was opened. Once a gap large enough for them to squeeze through appeared, they slipped inside, with Scorpia quickly resealing the door.

No going back now.

The bridge was a flurry of activity, acting as the central hub for the one hundred or so ships that had departed the Horde’s docks early this morning. Catra ignored all of the unimportant aides and messengers scurrying about, sharp eyes searching for one man and one man only. It was not hard to find Admiral Garrot.

The admiral cut an impressive figure. His uniform was immaculately pressed, jet black hair perfectly slicked in place, and a stone chin that grinded as he barked out orders. Although only of average height, his presence filled the large room.

Catra and Scorpia made their way down the bridge, but were quickly stopped by a guard. “How did you get in here? This is a restricted area!” Scorpia’s attempt to bluster by pointing at her captain’s badge did not work.  “Captains are not allowed on the bridge, and certainly not mere foot soldiers. You will leave at once!” His hand drifted down to the blaster holster.

Catra held her hands up placatingly, “We’re here on a top secret mission from Lord Hordak himself. If you will just let me talk with Admiral Garrot, I can clear everything up.”

“Do you think I was born yesterday? A ‘top secret mission from Lord Hordak’? Lord Hordak has never interfered with the fleet before. You will leave. Now.”

The guard moved to pull his blaster free, but Scorpia reacted faster. A red blur crossed the distance between them and stabbed the guard. He let out a choked gasp and crumbled to the floor, weapon tumbling away. Catra glared at Scorpia as the woman hugged her tail and gave a sheepish grin, “Sorry! It’s instinct!”

Scorpia’s “instinct” had just made their job much, much harder.

Catra’s ears flicked at the deafening silence that swept through the room. Wincing, she turned to find the entire commanding staff staring at her, including Admiral Garrot. The other guards posted began to draw weapons, giving her roughly ten seconds to salvage the situation.

Catra took advantage of the silence and shouted towards the admiral, “Bravo, Mike, Five, Eight, Zero, Tango!” Her heart soared as she saw a flicker of interest in his hard, green eyes.

“Uh, Wildcat? I know I said I trusted you, but what did you just say? And are we gonna have to fight? I don’t want to accidentally sting someone else if I don’t have to.”

She placed a firm hand on Scorpia’s muscular bicep. “Stand down. I think I fixed things, and we couldn’t win this fight anway.” And then Catra strutted towards the admiral as confidently as she could, heedless of the dozen guards crowding her with blasters drawn.

The man’s voice was surprisingly normal in tone and volume, “What was it you just said, intruder?”

She gave her most arrogant smirk, “I think you know what I just said.” A battle of wills began, Garrot staring her down, daring her to flinch. It was a decent death stare, but Catra was battle tested in this arena. She had Shadow Weaver for a mother, after all. Her toothy smirk did not budge an inch as her arms crossed.

Eventually, Garrot broke first, tilting his chin in acknowledgment. “Stand down!” The guards obeyed without hesitation. “Someone move Lee into a sitting position so he doesn’t swallow his tongue.” Lee must have been the guard Scorpia attacked, as two of the men picked up the prone form.

Garrot walked over to the duo, standing a bit taller than Catra. She fought the instinct to back down. “I assume you are here, banging down my door and assaulting my men, for a reason?”

She nodded, “Yes sir. It has to do with the upcoming attack on Salineas.”

“What of it? My fleet will attack the city in the next two hours, and if fate smiles on me, we will emerge victorious.”

Catra glanced around the room, where she was still the center of attention, and muttered, “Not here. It’s top secret. No one else can know about our plan. I’m not even sure if you should be included, but this is easier than taking the bridge by force.”

Garrot gave a cold smile, “A wise choice, soldier. You would have found my men to be quite the challenge. And then you would not have left this room alive. If it is secrecy you desire, follow me.”

He led them to a meeting room adjacent to the head of the bridge. “We are in a soundproofed box. I am the only man who will hear this ‘master plan’ of yours. So tell me, soldier, what is so important that you decided to commit treason against me?”

And so Catra laid out their - admittingly - insane plan. Garrot sat with perfect posture the entire time, only interrupting her to ask for clarification. For the second time in a week, Catra was stunned to have an important officer - infinitely more powerful than her - give her proper respect. If the roles had been reversed, Catra would have burst out laughing and sent him to the insane asylum after the first few sentences.

But once Catra finished, Garrot only leaned back in his chair slightly, deep in thought. She and Scorpia waited with bated breath; while the admiral had been lenient so far, he very easily could have them arrested. And then Adora would be facing impossible odds.

Garrot’s lips pursed, causing her heart to nearly stop, “Your plan is...daring. Unconventional. A majority of its success hinges on factors that I do not know of nor can plan for, especially with so little time. It would invite untold catastrophe to my men and my fleet. This could very well mean the death of all of us.”

But, if what you say is true, we will have the element of surprise. We would possess a weapon that could turn the tide of this theater. As unlikely as your plan is, it is more concrete than praying for divine intervention. Will I risk the lives of thousands of men on the word of two foot soldiers that I have just met?”

Garrot stared past them into the bridge, where the bustle of activity had resumed. His eyes softened minisculely. “They are loyal and brave to a man. They know the dangers of our mission and still obey me without question. My men deserve better than a life spent staring into the face of death every other month. If I ignore your offer, have you arrested - and I would be justified in doing so - then a great number of them will die anyway. More statistics to be added to the pile. And there would be no hope of victory, no sense to their deaths.”

“I grow tired of the same conflict everyday, the same failure. My life - their lives - should be more than parts to the machine: expendable, cheap, replaceable. Why should we fight, if there is no hope for a better tomorrow?”

A deep sigh escaped his lips, as the admiral smoothly rose from his seat. He straightened the pins on his chest, combed the black strands back into perfect formation, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face. The edges of his mouth lifted slightly as he turned towards Catra, offering his hand.

Catra stared at it. Was he actually doing this? Her hand trembled as she reached out in turn. Garrot’s grip was like iron, but to Catra it was soft velvet. And then he spoke, “I do not trust you, soldier, but I trust Lord Hordak. Do what you must. In a few hours time, we will meet our fate.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Long, thick fingers drummed impatient on a shipping container, as blue eyes constantly checked the communication pad sitting in her lap. For the thousandth time, there was nothing.  

Adora huffed and shuffled, resituating herself on the cold metal surface. Then she looked at the device for the thousandth and first time, and her heart nearly exploded as the screen flashed blue repeatedly. An encrypted message scrolled through, one that would not have made sense to outside eyes even if they had the decryption key.

She sprang to her feet so fast she nearly fell off the container. Calling upon her best command voice, she barked, “Confirmation received! Mission is a go! I want the ship prepped and prepared for takeoff in 30 minutes!” A chorus of “yes sir” echoed from the troops below her.

Troops felt inaccurate, Adora thought, as she watched her men run about. They lacked the muscle bulk that every foot soldier - even Kyle! - had. Their posture was terrible, with many of them slouching over at all times. And while they were efficient in their assignments, they were not orderly. They weren’t her men, because her men were on a boat eight hours away, fast approaching Salineas. 

This part of the mission was the most confusing for Adora. Catra had explained it multiple times, and Adora trusted Catra, which was enough. Catra trusted the men below her to do their job, so would Adora.

She rubbed the runestone on her forearm. Even though she hated the sword, Adora found herself strangely at peace in the moment. She was going to fight Princess Mermista no matter what. If she didn’t, Catra would be in danger. So today, it didn’t matter how much Adora hated She-Ra; she needed the power, and that was all that mattered.

Thirty minutes passed quickly, and soon Adora found herself strapped into a seat. The sharp whine of engines spinning up made its way through the dense metal shell. From her point of view, Adora could barely see out of the front glass as the urban sprawl of the Fright Zone disappeared from view. The ship rotated 90 degrees, and then Adora found herself pinned against the restraints as the engines roared louder than anything she had heard in her life. 

The landscape below and the sky above began to blur. Adora tapped out a message on her communication pad before tucking it in a sleeve next to her.

The ship - officially it was a hoverjet - was fast. Really fast . So fast that Adora had not been able to keep track of the numbers being read off to her. Catra had understood, however, and she handled most of the calculations required for their plan to work. 

Where Catra had found the keys to such a classified vehicle, not to mention the crew required to operate it, Adora had no clue. She attempted to pry, but her friend always responded with a variant of “I asked them nicely.” As if Catra knew how to ask nicely.

She closed her eyes and began to focus her breathing. Nothing else mattered now. Not Adora. Not the Horde. Not Shadow Weaver. Only She-Ra. Only Catra. 

Only victory.

------------------------------------------------------------

Her eyes widened as the full might of Salineas came into view. The city at ground level was hidden from view by the Salinean fleet, ships gracefully hovering above the water. The castle of Princess Mermista towered in the background, as did the Seagate. It shimmered with white light, energy surging and twisting. 

Princess Mermista was not visible yet, but precedent said that she would appear once the Horde fleet either came within firing range or attacked. Catra subtly stroked down the puffed hair on her tail, hoping no one else in the room knew what that meant. In sharp contrast, Admiral Garrot stood at the helm as if posing for a propaganda reel.

She supposed that if you stare death in the face for years, you eventually stop fearing it. He turned towards her and asked, “Your asset? Will she be here?”

Catra saluted, “Yes sir. She is on her way right now. If we attack in ten minutes, the plan will be successful.”

Garrot turned back, deep in thought. 

Eight minutes later, her communication pad beeped. Adora was five minutes out. Catra let the admiral know. 

Two minutes later, the Horde fleet began its assault on Salineas.

Even inside the sound dampened bridge, Catra still winced at the roar of energy cannons on all sides of her. The sky turned green as a volley lofted overhead. The first shots landed indiscriminately: some crashing in the city, some fizzling out against the Seagate, and some dealing damage to the enemy ships.

The second salvo was on course to achieve the same results. And then the entire world tilted.

The command vessel dipped sharply into the water, nose crashing through the surface as men were knocked to the ground. Catra latched onto the most secure thing around her - Scorpia, who had a death grip around a window sill - and held on for dear life.

Admiral Garrot simply flexed his knees, moving in time with the chaotic vibrations. When the ship had leveled out, he had not moved from his initial position. A scowl now lined his usually neutral features.

Catra took a passing glance to check on Scorpia, and found the woman’s jaw dropped, hanging comically as if in a cartoon. She turned towards the front and quickly found herself doing the same.

In the middle of the Salinean fleet, which had previously been a uniform mass of ships, a water spout ten stories high was forming. The ocean itself was being pulled in, dragging the Horde fleet closer. Her sharp ears made out the faint groan of metal, and a gasp slipped out as pieces of machinery, along with a few unlucky soldiers, flew through the air, sucked in by the force of nature.

This was both very good and very bad. Mostly very bad.

Very good in the fact that Princess Mermista was now on the battlefield, which meant the plan could work. Very bad in the fact that Princess Mermista was now on the battlefield.

Garrot’s expression was one of distaste as he commanded, “I want every last ship to fire on the princess! Every! Last! One!”

This was the moment of truth. As the entire fleet roared and spat out a sea of green, all aimed at the princess, Catra prayed for divine intervention. Maybe one of the shots would get through and kill the princess? That would be so much easier and less painful than what she had planned for. Especially for Adora’s sake.

The Salinean fleet answered in turn, guns blazing as it defended its princess. The space inbetween exploded into rainbows of color, even as a majority of the Horde blasts made their way ever closer to the princess.

Then, Princess Mermista did something that broke Catra’s perception of reality.. 

Her sharp eyes caught a quick flash of sea green from the top of the Salinean castle, and a similar light was mirrored in the general location of the princess. The ocean surged towards the princess, creating white wake that danced hypnotizingly. The command ship dropped several feet in the water, as a chasm formed. Waves rolled through the Horde fleet, making their way towards their master.

Soon, the ocean was no longer level, as the Horde found itself staring up slightly at Salineas.

The sky was blotted out entirely. Her world became sea green as Salineas disappeared behind a tidal wave that towered above the world. Every cannon blast of the Horde fizzled out in the wall of water. At the very center, Catra could just make out the turquoise shine of Princess Mermista.

She blanched at the sight. They had looked at video recordings of attacks on Salineas before, but nothing could have prepared her for this sight. Catra prayed that Adora would make it, otherwise she was about to meet a very painful end.

The column made its way towards the Horde fleet, an unstoppable force of nature that was drawing them into a whirlpool of destruction. Dimly, she recognized the alarmed shouts in the room, but her mind could only focus on the scene in front of her.

Every second was one Catra spent expecting the wave to fall apart, for Adora to heroically come save the day. And every second, she was disappointed. Her heart clawed at her chest as the wave came close enough for her sensitive ears to pick up the thundering roar, as millions of pounds of water hurtled towards them.

Her claws dug into Scorpia’s shell, eyes wrenching shut as she braced for her death. 

It wasn’t fair. After a miserable upbringing, after a miserable life, Catra was just going to drown out here on her very first mission? There was so much left that she wanted to do, so much to say.

She wanted to experience the world. See more than the dreary Fright Zone. Eat more than crummy ration bars. Be more than the black sheep of the Horde. She wanted to live. She wanted to be important.

Most of all, Catra wanted Adora. She wanted to stand by the blonde’s side as they took over the Horde, took over the world. She wanted to sit on a throne next to Adora and be happy. She wanted to be dazzled by that platinum smile and brilliant blue eyes every day for the rest of her life. She wanted to spend a million nights curled up together in their bed. She wanted to one day confess to Adora that Catra loved her; she always had.

These last few thoughts drew tears from heterochromatic eyes, and for once, Catra did not care about showing weakness. She did not know these people, nor they her. And at any moment, they’d all be dead and nothing would matter. So she tightened her death grip on Scorpia and braced for the end.

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Except it never came. Catra flinced several times, expecting a crushing volume of water to break through the bridge and kill her. But a minute passed, and she still felt the rough exoskeleton of Scorpia beneath her claws. And where before there was only the roar of water, now she was met with jubilant cheers.

She cracked open her blue eye, shocked to find the bridge still in one piece. The officers were whooping, hollering, hugging, and acting entirely undignified for their station.

“Wildcat?” Scorpia’s shaky voice broke the trance, “Are we dead?” Catra fumbled to form a reply; she didn’t think they were, but at the same time, how exactly was she still alive?

“No,” a voice carried over, “we are not dead. Not yet, at least.” The pair turned to find Admiral Garrot with a wide grin on his face. “It appears your friend arrived just in the nick of time. There is hope for us yet.” 

Catra’s heart stopped. Adora had done it. She had actually done it. She had saved tra. And now Adora was fighting a princess powerful enough to lift the ocean like it was a feather.

She was shaken from her stupor as Garrot’s voice boomed through the room, “Enough! I am sure you are all very happy to not be in pieces on the ocean floor, but there is still work to do! Princess Mermista is out of the picture for the moment; do not waste this moment! Full steam ahead. We are going to crush Salineas . We are going to be victorious!”

Catra could not help but join in the large roar that rose up around her.

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Adora’s breath hitched as the battle of Salineas came into view. The sky burned in every color as the two fleets exchanged cannon fire. Somewhere on the opposite side of all that destruction, Catra was counting on her. 

The hoverjet zoomed across the Salinean strait, making its way towards the northeast edge of the city in a wide loop. It whirled around in a stomach turning spin before settling in the air. 

Catra had done her part. Her crew had done their part. Now Adora had to do hers. She stamped down the last vestiges of fear and doubt, rising up from her seat to walk towards the front hatch. The timing had to be absolutely perfect.

The barrier in front of her depowered, and Adora walked out to the edge of the jet, grabbing onto a handhold in the ceiling. From her perspective, high above the rest of the world, she saw everything.

The specks of Horde black firing green blips. The sea of white-silver ships answering back with blue shots. The sprawl of Salineas; the opulence of the castle, gleaming in the light. The blur of Princess Mermista as she stood atop her water pillar, preparing death and destruction for Adora’s people.

She felt at peace as she summoned the sword to her hand. Pointing it to the heavens, she cried, “For the honor of Grayskull!”

Energy surged through her as she became She-Ra. Her body grew to eight feet tall, muscles rippling with raw power. Armor formed from thin air, wrapping perfectly around her frame. Steel boots locked around her feet, making her even taller. Bracers of unbreakable steel snapped to her arms. A black helmet appeared, with a green visor for her to see out of. A chestplate tougher than the finest Horde steel fitted to her broad chest. A burning Horde logo emblazoned itself on the jet black armor.

As the golden glow faded, and Adora opened her eyes, she knew today would be a good day. She could feel it in the air. She sheathed the sword on her back; it would only slow her down for the next part.

When the ocean began to rush and tremble towards the princess, Adora yelled, “Now!” so loud that the jet vibrated. The crew obeyed without hesitation, pushing the engines to full throttle as they shot towards the battlefield. The city beneath her blurred as the jet picked up speed. 

Every muscle tensed as Adora mentally ran through her calculations; now was not the time to misjudge a leap in the middle of the fight. If she missed, there were no second chances. There was only this one shot.

They shot past the castle, and Princess Mermista came into view. A turquoise aura surrounded the princess, arms shaking as a tidal wave that blotted out the sky slowly rose. Her blue hair gleamed with an unnatural energy, and if Adora were in front of her, she would have seen the princess’s brown eyes glowing as well. 

Adora’s eyes widened as the wave began to surge towards the Horde fleet, the entire mass staying together to form a giant wall of death. It was now or never.

She barked an order to halt the craft, and it stopped high above the princess and off to the side. Her mind raced as she did one last calculation. This time, Adora could not fail. She would not fail. 

Taking a deep breath, she leapt into the void.

Chapter Text

The world shuddered and vibrated through the green film of her visor. The wind whistled as She-Ra plummeted through the sky like a falling star. Plated arms were tucked behind her, guiding the flight towards the ocean princess. Mermista was still unaware of the goddess hurtling towards her, too focused on keeping the tidal wave together as it neared the Horde fleet.

Adora’s eyes widened as she could no longer see the Horde ships, her vision filled with an endless expanse of water. Catra didn’t have much time left. The thought spurred Adora’s heart, pushing her to go even faster, closing in on Mermista. 

Her calculation had not been wrong. She lined up her shot, reaching maximum speed as the distance between the two vanished. At the last possible second, Adora spread her muscular arms into a perfect form tackle. The massive, armored shoulder of She-Ra slammed into Mermista’s ribs, eliciting a harsh crack that was audible through her helmet.

The two princesses spun out of control, She-Ra gripping Mermista’s upper body in a crushing embrace, drawing a strained gasp from her enemy. Mermista tilted her head to where she could see her assailant, glowing brown eyes widening at the sight before her. The shock lasted for only a moment, before a scowl took its place.

Adora couldn’t risk using She-Ra’s sword in such a turbulent environment, but Mermista had no such weaknesses. Her right arm - the one not pinned awkwardly to She-Ra’s armor - pulled hard in an upwards motion. A geyser of ocean water shot up at her command, blasting the connection between the two and severing it. 

Adora tumbled and flipped through the air, flailing her armored limbs as she tried to find her sense of direction. Through her blurred worldview, she caught glimpses of Mermista being met by a small pillar of water, which softened her descent. Unfortunately for her, Adora had no help; she was too unsteady to pull out her sword and transform it into something useful. 

Time to find out just how durable She-Ra was.

After several more seconds spent flailing, she was able to right herself, staring at the fast approaching streets below her. She sent a quick prayer to whatever deity existed. Then, operating on instinct, she tucked herself into a tight - well as tight as she could wearing full armor - ball, tilting down slightly so her knees were directly underneath her.

As the ground filled her vision, Adora flared her left leg up and her right leg down, while simultaneously slamming her right fist into the ground. Her right knee embedded itself several inches in the brick road, as her left foot created a long trench as it slid to her side. The force of her punch blasted out the windows in her immediate vicinity. 

She crouched there for a few seconds, heart pounding and breath racing as she waited for the resulting spike of pain such a landing would have caused. When it never came, and Adora stood up to find neither of She-Ra’s legs were broken, she burst into laughter. Catra was going to love this. A massive crater had formed in the middle of this wide open street, with Adora at the epicenter.

Sarcastic clapping cut through the moment. Adora whirled around to find Princess Mermista standing above her on a bridge overlooking a canal. Her hip was cocked to the side, trident tucked under her arm, as she slow-clapped to Adora. In an amused drawl, she said, “Well, that was dramatic.”

Adora sneered, “Princess Mermista.”

The princess smirked down to her, “Yeah, that’s my name. Glad we established that. How about you tell me yours? I want to hear what edgy thing you call yourself, if your - quite frankly - over the top armor is any indication.”

Her brain short circuited for a second, “My... armor?”

“Yes, your armor. It is so over the top and cheesy. Like I get it, you're the big, bad Horde hero that will save the day against the evil princesses. But did you really have to dress in all black?”

Adora sputtered, “I didn’t choose this armor! It just...happened.”

“Wow, that's so unlucky for you. As someone who knows a lot about costume design, let me tell you something: all black is not your color.” Mermista casually struck a few poses, letting the light gleam off her golden armor accented with turquoise and teal. 

“Wha..what are you doing?” Adora had never met a princess before, but this one was weird . 

The princess arched one manicured, black eyebrow, “Uh? Bantering? You know, the battle of wits and humor that comes before a fight?”

Her jaw dropped. Was this some kind of game? “Are you seriously doing this right now?” To emphasize her point, Adora swept one gauntlet towards the sky, where the colors of battle still raged on.

“Uh, yeah. It’s been forever since I had an actual fight. And my fleet will be fine for a while; the Horde ships are pretty pathetic if you ask me. So, now that we’ve established that we are bantering, care to tell me your name?”

With all the conviction in the world, Adora declared, “She-Ra, Princess of Power!”

Mermista stared for a moment, before rolling her eyes and snorting. “Was that really the best you could come up with? A children’s tale? That is sad, even for the Horde.”

“It’s not sad! I am She-Ra!”

The princess dropped into a sitting position on the ledge, “If you say so. So, She-Ra, you have any good banter? I’m getting tired of carrying this conversation.”

Adora unsheathed her broadsword. “I’m not here to banter.”

“Ooooooo, straight to the point. And I already got that vibe from you when you tackled me out of the sky. By the way, why isn’t your sword black; isn’t that kinda your thing?” 

Inside her helm, Adora grinded her teeth together. She was done with this humiliation. “Enough!” She leapt towards the princess and brought down a mighty smash.

Mermista vaulted to the side casually. “But you haven’t even made an over dramatic speech yet. We can’t actually fight until you give a cheesy speech, and then I reply ‘I will never let you win’ or something just as cheesy back.” 

Adora snarled and swung again, and again Mermista effortlessly dodged. “Is this some sort of joke? Are you crazy? Do you even care that your people are dying out there while you banter with me?” On her third strike, the princess diverted the slash with her trident, pinning the sword against the ground.

Adora snapped her eyes up to find glowing brown ones inches from her. An involuntary flinch ran through her body. 

The princess’s voice was no longer monotone, now burning red hot, “The Horde has been terrorizing my people for years. Their lives have been destroyed. I have seen the funerals of thousands of men who died because of you. You don’t get to imply that I don’t care about them. You and the rest of the Horde are an infestation on Etheria.”

With deceptive strength for such a smaller woman, Mermista’s cut arms flexed as she torqued her trident, throwing Adora back. A surge of water boosted her next attack, the weapon a grey blur as Adora barely parried it before being skewered. The princess flowed smoothly, allowing the prongs to stab into the ground, then vaulted into an armored kick that caught Adora in the midsection.

“My life has been nothing but fighting and death! You think I want to kill thousands of people? I never asked for any of this, but you gave me no choice!” 

Mermista’s hair and eyes began to glow, as a turquoise aura formed around her body. Off in the distance, the runestone at the peak of the Salinean castle gleamed the same color.

The princess’s voice began to reverberate off the stone buildings. “You think you can just walk in here and take my kingdom? Take my people?” She leveled her trident at Adora, “You can try. And you will fail. I am the daughter of King Mercia and Queen Mercilia. I wield the trident of Salineas. I am ruler of the oceans. As long as I am still breathing, you will not take this city!”

Behind the now glowing princess, the canal exploded, flooding the street and leaving behind ankle deep standing water that frothed angrily.

Adora pushed down the quiver of fear trying to worm its way out of her chest. She felt a flicker of something else in her heart, but ignored that too. Knuckles turned white around the hilt of her sword. She wasn’t the most gifted orator, so she kept things simple. “I agree.” And She-Ra charged into battle.

Fighting Princess Mermista was a unique experience. Adora had spent the last twelve years of her life training almost every day, experiencing a wide range of techniques and abilities. Rogelio’s brute strength, Scorpia’s stinger and pincers, Lonnie’s cold, calculating mind, and Catra’s agility and dirty tricks had forged Adora into the finest soldier in the Horde.

But as she scrambled to the side, narrowly avoiding a flurry of strikes aimed at her head, Adora realized that there was no substitute for experience; a training exercise could never replicate the ferocity and hate behind Mermista’s attacks. 

As strong as Rogelio and Scorpia were, Mermista was stronger, easily parrying She-Ra’s crushing strikes. After one such move, the princess spun on top of the water, driving the butt of her trident hard enough to crack a rib through She-Ra’s armor. In the moment as the breath was driven out of Adora’s lungs, Mermista followed up with a particularly angry scythe, scoring three trenches along She-Ra’s thigh.

The armored goddess crashed onto one knee, bringing her sword up to stop the business end of the trident from meeting her head. The pressure increased as Mermista rose in the air, water streaming under her feet to better her leverage. It felt like Adora was holding up an entire battleship as her muscles quaked, the tips of the trident inching closer to her face.

With a mighty shout, Adora surged upwards, knocking away the princess and creating some breathing room. The nerves of her thigh tremored slightly when she rose to her feet, but She-Ra’s pain tolerance for physical wounds was insanely high.

With raw strength no longer being a viable strategy, Adora switched to using She-Ra’s size advantage to keep Mermista at bay, broadsword staying close to her body, knocking away the jabs of the trident. The two warriors danced for a while, testing each other’s defenses. Mermista began to cede ground, so Adora became aggressive.

Transforming the sword into her shield, Adora quickly closed the gap, catching the princess off guard with the change up. A side swipe of the shield forced a parry, which left Mermista’s side open. A giant, armored fist cracked into her side, the same side that Adora had impacted in the sky.

A strangled groan passed its way through her lips as the princess flew backwards, crumbling into a heap. The standing water swirled beneath their feet, rolling Mermista to the side milliseconds before the edge of Adora’s shield slammed into the ground.

The princess pulled herself up with strands of water, one hand gripping at her side. A dark scowl grew as she pointed the trident at Adora and raised her free hand. The shine of her aura grew slightly, and the canal shot out more water, this time in a loose spray that misted over the battlefield. Streams of water ran down Adora’s visor.

The second it took her to wipe it clean cost dearly, as Mermista no longer was standing before her. She spotted the princess running through the air to her right, condensing the mist into solid water to use as a step ladder. At the apex of the run, Mermista dived towards Adora, but was greatly off course.

Adora cautiously covered up with her shield as Mermista hurtled toward the ground, making no effort to adjust course so that she would actually hit Adora. But in the blink of an eye, Mermista kicked off to her side, shooting at a harsh angle and putting the princess on a collision course for Adora.

Her heart stopped as the trident appeared in front of her, and it took all of She-Ra’s reaction time and size to raise the shield just enough. Still, the force of the attack made a loud screech as the trident stabbed into the metal. Adora fell to the ground, shield beginning to press into her lungs.

The swirl of rushing water around the princess’s legs was the only indicator before Mermista torqued her body hard, wrenching the shield - She-Ra’s sword - out of Adora’s hands, clattering and splashing far down the street.

Time stopped as the Princess towered above her, blue hair and brown eyes glowing with the fury of the sun, a turquoise aura distorting the air, trident angled at Adora’s chest. A grey blur shot down, and Adora grabbed the prongs, stopping them an inch from her chestpiece. 

Once again in the same position, the two strained for dominance: Mermista gritting her teeth as she sank the trident lower, Adora sweating as she was pressed against the ground. Cracks began to splinter out from under them, as the weight of She-Ra and the force of Mermista’s attack drove Adora deep into the ground.

Lacking any leverage, and having lost her only weapon, Adora’s mind raced for a plan. Heart pounding, she came up with one: insane, likely to get her killed painfully, but it was the only thing she could think of in this position.

Shuffling her back in the shallow water, Adora pulled the trident to her left, letting the weapon drop towards her. Mermista stumbled down at the loss of resistance, straight into a devastating headbutt from She-Ra. The princess flew through the air, crashing back down a good distance away from Adora.

Adora let out a shaky breath; that had actually worked! She tried to stand up, but only the right side of her body seemed to respond. Turning her head as far as she could, Adora found the problem: two of the prongs of the trident pinned her left shoulder into the ground. The injury was not hurting yet, but that didn’t mean She-Ra could ignore physics.

Heart stuttering as her right hand wrapped around the base of the head of the trident, Adora wrenched before she could freeze up. She screamed as the weapon clattered into the water, blood - her blood - mixing with the foam. Even with She-Ra, this was the most painful thing Adora had ever experienced.

She wobbled to her feet, left arm hanging uselessly by her side. Attempts to move it from that position were met by numbness. So now Adora was weaponless and down an arm. She tried to rectify the former by making her way down the street in the general direction of She-Ra’s sword, but was quickly cut off by a pissed off princess.

Mermista was in equally rough shape: nose sharply crooked, blood streaming down her face, slowly dripping off her chin. Her radiant yellow gauntlets stained orange. Brown eyes were normal now, shining with a film of tears. She spat a red glob to the side.

“Did you really just headbutt me?”

Well, in the moment, it made a lot of sense. Adora grimaced as she shrugged her right arm, “You stabbed me through the shoulder. A headbutt was more than fair game.”

The princess blinked rapidly, drawing away the tears and clearing her vision. Her posture hunched as she put her hands on her knees, sucking in deep breaths. Seeing as Mermista was not taking the opportunity to fight a defenseless opponent, Adora assumed they were in some kind of unofficial timeout.

She took advantage to search the street behind Mermista, hoping to spot a glint of gold or shining blue in the running water. Her chest tightened as the more she looked, she was only met with murky green.

In the background, Adora noted the sounds of the battle, just as strong as before their fight began. When her gaze shifted back to the princess, she found Mermista noticing the same thing. The princess stood tall once again, “This has been a lot of fun and all, but I’ve played with you long enough. Gotta get back out there and save the day, ya know?”

A sharp ring came from behind Adora, and a grey blur shot between her feet before popping up into Mermista’s hand. Two of the ends of the trident were now stained with She-Ra’s blood, even after minutes soaking in the water.

The odds were very much against Adora. A broken nose was much less debilitating than a useless arm. A trident was better than one fist. And while Mermista had taken some shots, she had still controlled the flow of their fight. Without She-Ra’s sword, there was no hope. Once again, Adora would have to do something completely insane in order to survive.

Drawing in a deep, staggered breath, she leapt as far as she could, aiming to soar over Mermista’s head and break into a run down the street for her sword. The move caught the princess off guard, and Adora successfully began her death sprint. 

Her eyes darted, praying to find her shield. The splashing and sloshing of water being kicked up thundered in her ears. Her left shoulder was quickly becoming dead weight, already slowing down her frantic pace. Adora ducked around a corner, the space she had just been inhabiting quickly obliterated by a concentrated geyser.

Fortune smiled upon Adora today, as she spotted the gleam of the shield’s runestone against a close wall. She stumbled through water that was quickly gaining speed, soon becoming fast as rapids, slowing her down. A deafening roar grew from somewhere behind Adora as the street began to shake. She collapsed to one knee next to the shield, right hand swiping it before spinning to face Mermista.

The princess’s hair had returned to its glowing state, now casting blue light that refracted in the flood swirling around her, a massive torrent taller than the buildings around Adora. A cold stab of fear found its way into Adora’s heart.

Veins ablaze with adrenaline, Adora attempted to outrun the natural disaster surging down at her. This is what she had been afraid of when she confessed to Catra. Regular, hand to hand combat was something that Adora could handle, even against a princess. But magic ? On a scale so terrifyingly large? She was far, far out of her depth. You could not fight a flood with sword or shield.

Adora turned right at the next intersection to find herself in the middle of the square she had landed in. A very bad turn of events. It was wide and spacious, and the canal running to Adora’s left was just another way for Mermista to kill her.

With the flood right behind her, she leapt for the nearest cover: a large statue of Mermista on a pedestal, trident in hand, posing towards the heavens.

The torrent made its way through the street, crashing and smashing through the weaker buildings and carts that had been left outside. All Adora could hear was the rush of water around her as she tried to stay hidden. Soon, the street was completely flooded, with the water now at Adora’s knees. In the distance, she could see where the flood stopped, holding its form only in this square. 

The ensuing silence was thick. The distant thunder of cannon blasts gave a slight reprieve, but Adora was otherwise keenly aware of how flustered her breathing was. She could hear the creak of metal as her right hand gripped harder around the shield’s strap. A soft sea breeze blew through.

Then the splashing began. It was careless, excessively loud, like that time the cadets had gone to the beach as kids and ran screaming through the waves. Boots smacked through the surface, creating small wakes that sloshed around. A casual whistle struck up in a jolly melody, echoing off the stone buildings. In the empty square, it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

“Come on out She-Ra!” Mermista’s drawl stressed the ‘ra’. 

Adora shimmied back as far as she could against the pedestal, ears straining as the square became a discordant mash of sounds. Was she breathing too loud? Could Mermista hear her? Her heart pounded so fast that Adora could no longer hear Mermista anymore.

The ground beneath her feet exploded as the water sent her flying into the sky. Startled by the sudden impact, Adora crashed in an ungraceful heap in the middle of the open square. Water began to seep through the seal of her helmet, tickling her nose as she sputtered. 

She pushed off the ground with one hand, rising to a kneeling position, head above water as the waves lapped at her chest. Mermista stood in front of her in all of her terrible glory, shining as bright as ever with a tight grin on her face. Her arms were raised to the heavens as a massive, spiraling tendril of water began to form behind her.

Adora froze. Her mind screamed at her to get up, to fight back. She had her sword; there was hope. But as she stared down the princess, her heart finally accepted what had been clear since the fight had begun: Adora wasn’t good enough to defeat Mermista. She had not been good enough even when fully healthy.

As the spiraling waves began to surge overhead, Adora found herself surprisingly unafraid of dying. Not that she wanted to of course, but that the act itself wasn’t scary. She was mortal, she was a soldier; dying was inevitable. The Horde’s training had ripped that weakness out of her long ago.

No, she was scared of being alone. Of breaking her promise. Of not getting one more night in their bed. Of leaving Catra all alone in this cruel world. Of taking her undying love to the grave. 

Mermista sent the torrent crashing down, smashing Adora through the brick road and into the flowing water below. The force of the attack and the icy chill that cut through her armor ripped her breath away, helmet quickly filling with water. Once the momentum stopped, Adora valiantly swam upward with one arm, inching closer to the surface.

Maybe she couldn’t defeat Mermista. Maybe she couldn’t save the Horde. Maybe Shadow Weaver was wrong to believe in her. In the moment, that no longer mattered. For once in her life, Adora was selfish. She only wanted to survive to see Catra’s face one more time. To hear the yowling laughter when Adora did something silly. To feel the soft rumble of purrs in her heart as they slept together in pleasant darkness. To see the glimmer in her eyes that was reserved for only Adora.

She would not break Catra’s heart. She would not leave her best friend alone. 

She made a promise. 

Adora’s heart soared as her hand broke the surface. She was so close!

Then Mermista appeared above her, standing at the edge of the crater. Thrusting her hands down, the water obeyed, taking Adora in a death grip and dragging her back below the surface. Adora was able to gasp in one shallow breath before plunging into the darkness.

Again she struggled, fighting against the pull of the current. Except this time the water was sentient, malicious. As Adora stroked harder and harder, vision growing darker and darker, she failed to make any progress. Her muscles and lungs ached as water began to fill her lungs. Her eyes clouded until the only thing left was the hazy blue of Mermista’s hair, high above her.

Her arm drifted down as Adora floated in the darkness. The last thing that went through her mind before passing out was I’m sorry Catra.

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A soft breeze whistled atop the building, blowing golden hair into Catra’s face. She squirmed and pushed Adora’s head off her shoulder. Adora mumbled as she woke up from the dream she had just been having. She didn’t remember what it had been about, but the warmth in her belly meant it was probably a good one.

With Catra’s shoulder no longer an option, Adora quickly found a better one. Without giving the feline time to stop her, Adora plopped her head into Catra’s lap, sprawling out her legs to the side. Catra scowled down at her, but it lacked any real malice, especially when Adora giggled. Blue and yellow eyes crinkled before rolling, as she let out an exaggerated sigh. 

Catra began stroking her fingers through the blonde locks in her lap, lulling Adora back to sleep. This was the only thing she truly wanted: laying with Catra in their spot high above the rest of the world, Catra feeling comfortable enough to touch Adora like this. Days like these were becoming rarer, so Adora treasured every second they spent up here.

The soft pressure and edge of claws slowly stoked a fire in Adora’s core. This was right . This was perfect. This made all of the burns and bruises and nights spent crying alone in the showers worth it. Adora would go to hell and back if it meant she could spend one more day with Catra. She would swim the entire ocean to feel the grip of claws against her skin. She would walk the Crimson Waste to see yellow and blue eyes just once. She would fight the entire Rebellion to keep Catra safe. 

Adora mirrored Catra’s sigh, going boneless in Catra’s lap as she relaxed fully. She felt safe. Happy. Complete. She wished this moment could last for an eternity. And as Adora fully succumbed to the warm clutches of dreams, she swore she felt a feather light brush of lips against her head.

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Fighting with every bit of energy left, Adora creaked open her eyes. She was so deep that there was only darkness around her, even the blue blaze of Mermista lost to the icy abyss. Her chest seemed to crunch in on itself as her lungs drowned themselves. Tears slowly dripped out, mixing with the ocean water filling her helm. 

Her heart flickered once. Twice. Three times. Was this it? Was this the end of hers story? Was she meant to only be a footnote in history: the worst She-Ra ever?

Adora must have been going delirious, senses becoming hyper aware. She could feel the cold in her veins, hear the sloshing in her lungs, could feel her fingers pruning within their gauntlets, could taste the salt that surrounded her. Strangely, her heart burned like an inferno, entirely at odds with the rest of her body.

Again, her heart flickered. A warmth like that day in their spot. A warmth Adora felt every night snuggled up with Catra. A warmth that cut through the icy darkness like it was nothing. A warmth that Adora chased after like a drug.

She reached deep within herself, trying to ensnare this mystery. It was slippery like an eel, constantly squirming out of her mental grasp whenever Adora began to close in. It swirled like the clouds, drifting around as she tried to box it in. Traces of fire shot through her body, enough to push away the icy grasp of the water, as Adora became its master.

This was not the end of her story. She was not going to die here: cold, scared, alone. She was going to live. She was going to win.

She was going to see Catra again. 

As Adora finally tamed the nebulous energy, gold light shot through the chasm, burning away the chill. Feeling began to find its way back into her body, limbs slowly drifting in front of her. Her left shoulder was healed, now as limber as the undamaged right one. In front of Adora, the sword of She-Ra gleamed, turquoise runestone pushing back the darkness, awaiting its master.

In a trance, Adora reached out, gasping as raw energy shot through the connection between hand and hilt. She felt more alive, more powerful, than ever. The fatigue of battle washed away, as did the stinging sensation in her ribs. Adora felt powerful enough to lift mountains. 

Powerful enough to fight a princess.

An airless scream burst through her water filled lungs, and the chasm around She-Ra exploded in a column of golden light.

------------------------------------------------------------

Catra paced restlessly as the Horde fleet continued its assault. Princess Mermista had disappeared twenty minutes ago, giving Admiral Garrot an opportunity. He ordered the fleet to concentrate its fire in two roaming waves, slowly boxing the Salinean fleet into a kill zone as they ran out of water to retreat to. 

The distant rumbles of explosions cut through the bridge, as a line of white-silver ships were caught in the maelstrom, detonating in a sea of color. Her sharp eyes made out the specks of men fleeing overboard. A tight smile pulled at her features; the Horde was winning.

Mermista was the shadow looming over the entire operation. If the Horde had enough time to wipe out most of the Salinean ships, Mermista would be unable to hold Salineas by herself. As the battle progressed, the princess remained absent. Catra’s gut clenched as the city came into full view. If Mermista was gone, that meant Adora was still alive.

Blue and yellow eyes locked on to the Seagate, which still pulsed with white energy. Maybe Adora was still fighting the princess. Maybe she had won and was making her way through the city. Maybe any minute, the Seagate would collapse to She-Ra’s power.

Or maybe, a shadow whispered in her mind, Adora is already dead. You let her fight Mermista alone, even after she told you she wasn’t ready. She was scared, and your plan sent her off to her death. What kind of friend does that? 

Catra’s heart hitched as she dug deep grooves into the table beneath her. She didn’t know what had happened with Adora. All she knew was that Mermista was gone. All Catra could do was hope that Adora was alive, to trust in her friend.

And when have things ever gone your way? 

An ear pressed itself against her scalp. She focused on the rhythm of her breathing, the ins and outs in sync with the pattern of Horde cannon fire. The white Seagate burned into her irises. C’mon Adora. Hurry up and save the day with your dumb smile and big muscles and pretty hair and soft eyes. 

Catra’s prayer was answered as the world once again rocked. For a second, her heart stopped, preparing to be met with another wall of water as Mermista returned to the battle. But the world was so bright that she couldn’t even see what was happening.

Golden light suffused through Salineas, dazzling with the beauty of the sun. As it dimmed enough for Catra to actually see anything, she choked.

Deep in the city, an entire ring of buildings were annihilated, a hole in the otherwise sprawling land. A pillar of gold shot to the heavens, pulsing with ethereal light. A toothy smile spread across her face, fears burning away in the light. 

Adora was alive.  

Adora was alive!

------------------------------------------------------------

Mermista groaned as she threw the rubble off her chest with a jet of water. Despite having a stone building dropped on top of her, the princess felt fine. Great, even. Her ribs were no longer broken, breathing now normal instead of sharp rasps. Gingerly, she raised a finger to her face, feeling her nose. The bone was still crooked, but no longer hurt like hell.

These were not the biggest changes however. As Mermista collected her wits, she stared in awe at the column of pure energy dancing in front of her, right where she drowned ‘She-Ra’. The area around her was flattened, the standing flood long gone, whether it had evaporated or she had lost control. A low hum strummed around her.

She glanced down and was shocked to find her yellow armor glowing. In all her years of fighting the Horde, tapping into her runestone, never had her armor glowed. The amount of energy required to make her eyes and hair glow was at the limit of what Mermista could control. Yet as she felt within herself, her mind raced at the limitless flood of magic in her veins.

Giddiness infected her mind. She could feel every drop of water surrounding Salineas. She felt the moisture in the clouds miles above her. As she stretched out her senses, she could feel every ocean on Etheria. 

The princess turned away from the pillar, making her way for the battle. She was going to annihilate the Horde fleet, and after that she was going to ride the ocean all the way to the Fright Zone, where she was going to wipe them out once and for all.

But as she took her first few steps down the ruined street, a gravitational pull tugged at the back of her mind, making Mermista stop to look at the column once again. A shadow formed, slowly distorting the light as it moved towards her, turquoise light shining from its hand. 

The figure cut through the veil, and the sight made her heart stop. Standing before her, blazing like an inferno, was the woman that Mermista had just drowned. The one that called herself ‘She-Ra’.

The black helmet had been ripped off, revealing the most beautiful and terrifying face Mermista had ever seen. Blonde hair flowed behind them, glowing with golden light and moving in some invisible breeze. Sapphire eyes burned with hate as they locked onto Mermista. The warrior had found her sword, turquoise runestone now dripping with raw magic.

Earlier, Mermista had called the armor ‘over the top’ and ‘cheesy’. But as she watched a golden aura surge from the warrior’s body, wrapping around the jet black armor, ‘badass’ was the more accurate definition. 

This still didn’t change things. Even if She-Ra was the scariest, most intimidating thing Mermista had ever seen, she was still mortal. And as she tapped into the limitless magic in her veins, the princess was confident that she could still kill this warrior.

Mermista reached out and felt the moisture in the air. A wild plan formed in her mind as she bent every droplet of water within miles to her will. Outside the Seagate, both fleets dipped and crashed into the water as millions of pounds of water swirled out of the ocean, spiraling around each other as they made their way towards their master.

The wind picked up, quickly becoming a deafening howl as the buildings that were still standing groaned and creaked against their foundations. Visibility dropped as a thunderstorm formed in an instant over the city, drowning the earth in a flood of rain. Lightning crashed around the princess as the storm grew in intensity.

She-Ra stood there silently, eyes tracking the flurry of movement around her, expression locked into one of hate. 

As Mermista finished her movements, the sky darkened in a ten mile radius, as an apocalyptic storm grew and covered the world. Wind began to shear through the stone buildings around them. Out on the water, ships on both sides began to grind against the turbulence, fighting to avoid capsizing. Reality dimmed until there were only two beacons of light: the gold of She-Ra and the turquoise of Mermista.

The princess shot towards She-Ra with inhuman speed, powered by the winds of the hurricane she controlled. The warrior stood there; then in a similar flash, brought her sword up to catch the blow. A shockwave blew through any standing structures as the two were locked inches from each other, the sword holding the trident at bay.

And with a casual push, She-Ra threw Mermista backwards and charged ahead. The princess attempted to parry these crushing strikes, but the first one ripped the trident from her hands, forcing Mermista to retreat. A surge of water wrapped around the shaft, quickly returning it to its owner’s hands just in time to divert an overhead strike that would have decapitated her.

Streams of water began to make their way around She-Ra, as Mermista relied on her superior agility to even the odds. For a while, she pressed the advantage. There was so much water that she attacked from every conceivable angle. The trident flashed multiple times per second as Mermista constantly rebounded off the air, She-Ra just barely keeping up with her assault.  

She kicked off the ground into an overhead strike, which She-Ra blocked, then kicked to her left midair into a spinning slash, which She-Ra leapt back from, before shooting a highly pressurized blast at her enemy. The ground beneath the warrior quickly eroded and was washed away by the force, and Mermista maintained the attack for a minute, as She-Ra disappeared behind a storm of green.

Mermista let the stream die, expecting the golden haired woman to be obliterated, washed away, or at the very least knocked to the ground. But as She-Ra came into view, nothing had changed. The sword had transformed into a giant shield, which was now steaming as its runestone hummed at the center. Hidden safely behind the metal, She-Ra lowered her arms.

The woman was immaculate as ever. Her hair still had its golden glow, her eyes the same with blue, and she wasn’t even wet. Just like her shield, She-Ra had a small amount of steam rising off her that quickly was absorbed by the raging winds.

A wide smirk appeared. “My turn.”

If the very air hadn’t been saturated with moisture, Mermista would have died instantly to She-Ra’s onslaught. As it was, it took every ounce of energy to survive the destructive power of her sword strikes. Mermista now redirected her momentum every second, dodging attacks by the skin of her teeth. She skidded along the ground, looping in a wide circle around She-Ra, trying to find an opening.

There was none. In this moment, She-Ra was truly the Princess of Power. 

Mermista wasn’t even strong enough to deflect a sword strike with her trident. Torrents of water evaporated as they tried to blind the warrior. Lightning strikes were absorbed by her ever brighter aura. She-Ra moved with a hard, purposeful gait, unaffected by the hundred mile per hour winds. The remaining pieces of the road cracked under her weight as she forced Mermista into a corner.

She threw her trident at She-Ra, boosting its speed with the winds, while at the same time sprinting into a slide. As She-Ra’s sword was distracted with parrying the grey blur, Mermista summoned as much speed as she could from the surrounding water as she landed a crushing blow to the back of She-Ra’s knee. The princess sprang off the ground and dealt a similar blow to She-Ra’s uncovered head.

The princess of power didn’t budge at either attack, turning around to raise an eyebrow at Mermista.

In a flash, she surged forward, scything in a wide slash that Mermista couldn’t quite avoid. As the princess dived to the side, She-Ra’s sword cut a stretch into her thigh, payback for earlier. She grunted and fell to one knee, blood quickly tainting the water around her. In contrast, She-Ra looked bored as she stalked over to the fallen princess.

Calling her trident to her for once last gasp, Mermista pulled every bit of water she could and leveled it at her enemy. The world became a deafening roar of sea green as the city was pulverized by waves. As they swept over She-Ra and pulled her under, Mermista swam unsteadily, following the golden light that was undiminished by the flood. 

Through the distortion, glowing blue eyes locked onto Mermista. The ocean princess began an assault from 360 degrees, using her natural environment to dance around the warrior with ease. Her trident flashed and spun as Mermista urged the water to hold back She-Ra. Powerful blows were met with a glowing turquoise sword that steamed even far below these icy depths.

She-Ra unleashed a flowing combination of attacks, driving Mermista back even in her element. A crushing swipe spun the ocean princess around, and Mermista’s heart stopped at the vulnerability. She pulled herself to the side and away with every fiber of her being.

Then a burning metal sword thrust through her side, sliding under her ribs. The attack was inches away from killing her outright, but it was still a mortal wound. Mermista howled and the world shook. Calling on every last drop of magic in her, Mermista pushed She-Ra as hard as she could, while also pulling herself forward.

Agonizingly slow, the sword made its way out of her body. The sting of salt on both sides of the wound drew tears. Already her vision began to flicker. The endless surge of magic had abandoned her, leaving Mermista drained bone dry. She lost control of the storm and the flood as she collapsed on the ground.

She drifted in and out of consciousness as the sky cleared and light returned to Salineas. Her armor no longer glowed, and she knew from experience that her eyes and hair were faded and sickly. But She-Ra did not have such weaknesses. 

The goddess stood as mighty as ever. A golden light wreathed her body, matching the shine of her hair as it waved in the wind. Piercing blue eyes sharply focused on the defeated princess. Jet black armor was perfectly intact. Her massive sword hung by her side, stained with Mermista’s blood. 

This was the end for Mermista. Years and years of sleepless nights, fraught with nightmares, and endless bloodshed had led to this moment: Mermista dying on the ground, She-Ra - executioner of the Horde - standing above her. 

But Mermista was spiteful. She would not die easily, give the enemy the satisfaction of watching her die. She would die when she wanted, alongside who she wanted.

Her heart stopped several times as she ripped the very last bit of magic from her body, beginning to seize up from how hard she was pushing her limits. The pressure in her head was worse than a migraine as Mermista reached for her connection with the water leaking around her. In what might be her final act, Mermista yanked on a small stream, dragging her bleeding body into the hole above the canal, where the princess dropped into the icy depths.

------------------------------------------------------------

Catra gaped at the scene that just happened. One minute, the Horde was about to defeat Salienas. The next, an apocalyptic hurricane had come out of nowhere, despite the sky being clear minutes before. The outside world had disappeared behind a veil of wind and waves, although she swore she caught a glimpse of turquoise and gold far in the distance. The command ship had rocked and nearly flipped several times, as those inside were battered against the walls. 

And just as quickly, the storm had died. Within minutes, the skies were clear, the wind had stopped, and the ocean flowed smoothly against the hulls of Horde steel. Both fleets were in disarray. Most of the white-silver ships of Salineas had their sails torn, crashed together near the shores of the city. But as Catra watched, the remaining ships began to flee the battlefield.

They were able to do so because the Seagate was down. Scratch that, the Seagate was destroyed. The ancient structure was missing its top ridge, the containment field for the swirling magic gone. 

Adora had done it. She had defeated Princess Mermista. 

Adora was alive! Catra shot the nasty voice in her head a rude gesture, as a wide grin stretched her features. Holy shit, Adora had actually done it. She had beaten the strongest princess on Etheria.

Catra’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest as the implications began to fly through her mind. The Horde had conquered Salineas because of her plan. They were going to win the war because of Adora. Every single moment Catra had dreamed about with Adora was now within her grasp. Her heterochromatic eyes were vacant as she remembered the feeling of Lord Hordak’s throne beneath her claws. In a few years, she would be sitting in that chair, with Adora right next to her.

The rest of the Horde fleet - the ships that hadn’t been rent into shreds by the winds - set course for the bay of Salineas. A resounding cheer began on the bridge, but Catra didn’t stay to watch, as she sprinted outside.

The feline scampered her way to the very front of the vessel, eyes searching for a giant blonde idiot. Even as far out as they were, Adora shouldn’t be that hard to spot. But as they passed under the ruins of the Seagate, Adora still wasn’t there. Catra’s tail swished side to side. Where was she?

A loud crunch behind her answered the question, and Catra leapt back in shock as a giant, black armored warrior stood in front of her. She-Ra turned to face her, and her heart stopped.

Adora had always been the most beautiful person Catra had ever seen, but She-Ra was different. The goddess was perfect: skin radiant, hair billowing softly in the wind, glowing gold, soft blue eyes like a cold glass of water. Even through the dense armor, Catra could make out the definition of her bulging muscles.

Catra shook herself, hoping Adora hadn’t caught her staring. But the only thing on the blonde’s face was her dopey grin as she looked down at Catra.

“Catra, I did it! ” she squealed in that endearing way, before rushing over to smother Catra in a hug.

Catra slipped through giant arms, “Woah, slow down Adora! You still have the pointy armor!”

Adora gave a sheepish grin before unbuckling the metal, dropping the pieces down on the deck. Catra didn’t know that She-Ra could take her armor off, but she took full advantage of this opportunity to watch Adora. Even though she could see the full destruction of the city in the distance, Adora looked fine. She couldn’t see any wounds on the warrior’s body, and Adora was not moving gingerly. 

In fact, Adora looked great. Perfect even. As the sharp edges of raw power fell away from her body, Catra found herself once again staring at the blonde. She may have been eight feet tall, with even bigger muscles, but she was still the same Adora that Catra loved.

Catra knew what that golden hair felt like between her fingers, brushing against her skin. She knew what it was like to get lost in those baby blue eyes. She knew the pleasant pressure of Adora’s arms encircling her, holding Catra tight in the night. This time, when Adora finished stripping her armor and looked up at Catra, she couldn’t find it within herself to look away.

A toothy smile poked its way as Adora sprinted over, scooping up the much shorter woman in a crushing hug. She put up a token resistance, but quickly folded and let herself be pressed against She-Ra’s massive chest.

“Yeah yeah, I missed you too, dummy.” She tried to push Adora’s head back slightly so she could escape, but Adora only held on tighter.

“You’re okay.” The reverent tone to the whisper froze Catra.

“Of course I’m okay. I just sat on the bridge. You had to fight a princess.” She dragged her nails through the blonde’s scalp, drawing a shiver. Catra blushed at the close contact, hiding her face in Adora’s shoulder. She wanted to stay in this position forever, but they were in public.

“Hey Adora, let me down. We’re in public.” Adora obeyed immediately, setting down the feline gently on the metal. “Although you can do that again later, when we’re alone.” Catra was delighted at a slight blush colored Adora’s cheeks.

She took a few steps back towards the bridge, intent on introducing Adora to Admiral Garrot, when a soft groan sounded behind her. Confused, she pivoted to find Adora wobbling on her feet, sharp blue eyes now cloudy.

“Catra,” Adora whimpered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Catra was able to catch Adora just in time, muscles straining as she slowly lowered her giant best friend to the deck. She checked Adora’s vitals and her breathing to find everything normal. The rise and fall of Adora’s chest settled into a reassuring rhythm. 

Catra took a few minutes to sit there with Adora - still She-Ra - laying in her lap. She splayed a claw against the curves of her beautiful face, heart preening as Adora instinctively buried into it. Catra didn’t give a damn as she leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Adora’s forehead and whispering, “I love you.”

Chapter Text

Glimmer strummed an uneven pattern on the carved wood, eyes glazed as some ambassador from some neighboring kingdom droned on about some boring trade details. This was a complete and utter waste of her time, not that she had anything better to do. Bow scribbled notes next to her, the scratching of paper cutting through the monotonous air. She was tempted to teleport out of the room - etiquette be damned - but she had made a promise to her mother that she would try to reign in her impulses.

The princess delicately shifted in her chair at the right hand of Queen Angella, and her mother’s piercing purple eyes flicked at her, despite the queen’s head remaining focused on the speaker. Glimmer shot a dirty look back; she was trying, okay? It wasn’t easy listening to taxes, tariffs, and other financial mumbo jumbo.

Why did life have to be so complicated? Why was it so hard for kingdoms to work together in the face of a genocidal war machine? There would be plenty of time for these dreadful meetings when the Horde was defeated. Glimmer curled her hand into a fist beneath the table. She would bet the entire Brightmoon treasury that the Horde didn’t waste its time with stupid meetings about trade routes. 

Noticing her simmering temper, Bow drifted his left hand under the table, his right continuing to scribble notes for Glimmer’s sake. He rubbed small circles on her thigh, cracking a sympathetic smile. She smiled back. At least Bow understood her.

The other ministers and councilmen in the room paid no attention to the unprofessional behavior of the two lovers. Their unconventional relationship was well known among the royal court. Even though they hadn’t made plans to get married - the conversation had never even come up - no one dared speak ill of the princess and her consort.

One traditionally inclined minister had made the grave error of making some passing remarks on the nature of Bow’s upbringing – namely his lack of noble birth – and how he was not qualified to be Glimmer’s future husband. The firestorm Glimmer unleashed on the man, in public no less, cowed any other conservative minds from speaking their opinion.

Strumming fingers ended their song, moving to intertwine with the long fingers resting on her leg. Bow gave a quick squeeze before returning his full attention to the speaker. As subtly as she could, Glimmer stole a glance at the watch on his wrist; just seventeen minutes and the meeting would be adjourned. Her mind fell into daydreams of hot food from the kitchen, the softness of her bed, and warmth pressing against her lips.

A few minutes later, while Glimmer was fantasizing over what kind of cake she would pilfer, the heavy oak door slammed open, startling her. A well-dressed man with a stripe of blue – the color of the pathetically small Brightmoon navy – crossing from shoulder to hip burst in, chest heaving and face flushed.

Pulling himself together, the officer marched over to Queen Angella, whispering something in her ear. The queen’s eyes widened before quickly regaining composure.

“I apologize for the interruption, Councilman Farrell, but an urgent matter has been brought to my attention. You may finish your report in our next meeting.” The boring older man nodded dutifully. And with that, the court began to exit the room. 

Glimmer made to stand up, but her mother shot a long arm across her chest.  “No, you stay,” she said with a tight smile. “I have a feeling you will be quite interested in what is happening.” So she sat back down, sharing a confused glance with Bow.

Once the last of the room had cleared out, Angella said bluntly, “There is a Salinean personal cruiser making its way to our shores. The greater strength of the navy is about one day’s journey behind. They are flying the colors of peace and are requesting immediate medical aid once they dock.”

Glimmer and Bow shared another confused glance. “Why is the entire Salinean navy in our waters?” She asked. “There’s no way that Salineas could have fallen to the Horde!”

“I’m not sure, which is why I want you to make contact with the captain of this vessel and learn why they are approaching our shores. Salineas is an ally, but their fleet cannot be crossing into our waters.”

The princess didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing Bow’s hand and teleporting down to the docks. Once oriented, they jumped again to the top of the naval intelligence building. Far in the distance, the faint outline of the cruiser could be seen against the horizon.

Their third jump landed them right on the deck of the cruiser. A pair of impractically long boots thumped in front of them, their wearer wielding a golden sword at their throats. The man’s moppy brown hair was tangled and dirty, eyes gaunt. A red handkerchief loosely hung from his throat, noticeably darker in some areas.

“Halt! Who dares invade my- oh! Princess Glimmer!” the man lowered the sword, and so Glimmer cooled off her glowing fist, “I see you received my transmission. Wonderful. Are you a doctor by any chance?”

“Errr no, but Bow has some experience.” Bow waved at the man.

“Wonderful. Follow me, Bow! 

The man forced a grimacing smile before sprinting towards the interior of the ship. Glimmer passed several sailors, all with similar distraught, hardened faces. Just what the hell had happened? And who was this man to command such an opulent vessel?

The captain took them through the twisting corridors, skidding around a corridor before stopping in front of a large hall. Glimmer watched as a group of medics pushed a cart full of bloodsoaked, frayed bandages and stitches past her. 

“Okay, what the hell is going on? Why are you so stressed out?” She reached out to grab the man’s wrist. “And why is the entire Salinean navy in Brightmoon waters?”

The captain turned back to her, no longer bothering with putting on a mask, “Salineas has fallen.”

Glimmer’s brain stuttered and rebooted. “Salineas has what?”

“It fell two days ago, and that is not the worst part.” The captain pushed his way into the hall.

The floors, which had once been silver, were stained with blood, lots of it. The inside was a bustle of activity around one area as seven medics scurried about. A rancid smell filled the air.

As they arrived at the foot of the platform, Glimmer’s eyes bugged at the sight before her. 

The woman’s skin was pallid, veins prominent in the light. Her blue hair was sickly faded, sky blue overwhelming the last remnants of sapphire. Her nose was sharply crooked, the bone protruding slightly against the skin. The faint rasps of her breathing, and the miniscule rise and fall of her chest, were the only indicators that the woman was alive.

Her eyes drifted down and found the source, a horizontal gash in the stomach nearly as wide as the torso. As Glimmer watched, a puddle of red began to ooze from beneath the patient, drawing a shout from the head medic. The team carefully picked her up off the platform, allowing access to the back as stitches were hastily made. The wound was one of the worst Glimmer had seen: the woman had been fully impaled. 

And as she noticed the detailed armor, now stained orange, on the woman’s arms, Glimmer froze. Laying before her, broken and on death’s doorstep, was Princess Mermista. Hero of Salineas. The woman who single handedly held back the Horde for years. The strongest person in the world.

Bow hurried past her as the medics began to reapply stitches to Mermista’s front. His brow dipped as they worked over a line of white that was already holding the wound shut. “What are you doing?”

A man snapped over his shoulder, “The wound is...infected? The stitches won’t hold, so we’re trying to layer them in order to last longer. Already had to do this fifty times at least.”

“What do you mean ‘infected’?”

He grunted, “I mean the damn stitches keep coming out for no damn reason. They aren’t working on the princess. But they work on other patients. Makes no sense.”

Glimmer drifted over to the platform. There was something off to the air. Something new, something different than Mermista. Magic.

As the medic finished the stitches on the princess’s chest, Glimmer darted through the crowd, laying a hand gently on the wound. Ignoring the outraged shouts, she focused on the swirling energy within the princess. Mermista was bone dry of magic, her body a gaping void. But there was still magic around the princess; if not from Mermista herself, then where?

Glimmer quickly found her answer as she focused on the wound itself. Burning heat ran along the lines of stitches on the outside, making her hand jump back in shock. Steeling herself, she reached again, this time focusing on the wound inside the body.

It was like looking at the night sky to find a comet streaking through. Glimmer could feel the wound in its entirety, front to back, with the magic infecting it. She had never felt magic so malicious, so evil. It snapped at her fingers like a rabid dog as she pried. She withdrew from the contact, gasping as the magic gave one last parting bite to her.

Glimmer teleported to the edge of the group, where the captain and Bow had remained. “It’s a magical wound! That’s why Princess Mermista isn’t healing!”

To the captain’s credit, he merely stroked his chin, “Magic you say? That would explain the shining pillar of light and the hurricane.”

She ignored the strange comment, “Your doctors won’t be able to fix it. She needs sorcerers, and even then, I don’t know if she will survive.”

“And do you have these sorcerers in Brightmoon?” 

“No,” Glimmer mused, “but Mystacor does.”

The medic shouted over his shoulder once again, “Mystacor is at least a day’s journey from Brightmoon. The princess has been like this for almost two days. She wouldn’t last.”

“Then I’ll just teleport her there!” 

He stopped, needle hovering inches from wet flesh. “That could work, and it’s not like we have any better options. Your call captain!” He dived back into his work, finishing the second layer of stitches.

The captain took a long look at the unconscious princess, a multitude of emotions flickering through his eyes. A hand drifted to his handkerchief, thumbing the fabric. The man closed his eyes and mouthed a few words before turning to Glimmer.

“Can you do it?”

She nodded, mouth set in a firm line. The medics put the last touches to the stitches on both sides of the wound, before parting to give her space. She took one of Mermista’s cold hands in her own, the other reaching out for Bow. The captain took a firm grip on her shoulder.

Glimmer reached for the swirling energy, thankful she had recharged before going to the meeting. The jump to Mystacor by itself wasn’t easy, and having to bring three other people along was even tougher. But Mermista needed her in this moment. The Rebellion needed her. The world needed her.

Glimmer gritted her teeth and focused on Mystacor. The last kingdom unscathed by the war. The magic charged air where she had learned to control her powers. The collection of Etheria’s finest sorcerers that refused to actively assist the war effort.

They jumped several times, going too fast for the world to solidify, before landing with a resounding thump on the beautiful floors of her Aunt Casta’s office. Glimmer squeezed her eyes shut, pushing back the migraine threatening to form. Her hand felt warmer than it had just a minute ago; wetter too. The captain gasped, followed by the rustling of clothes. She felt Bow’s strong hands gently untangle her from the princess, and the air shifted as the captain knelt next to her.

“Glimmer, is that you? How wonderful of you to drop in for once!” Casta’s voice echoed from the door. “It has been so long since I have seen my favorite niece. You haven’t been slacking on your sorcery training have-” the door opened and the woman yelped, “What on earth is going on?”

Glimmer cracked open an eye, wincing against the bright light of Mystacor. Bow was next to her on the floor, supporting her weight against his broad chest. The captain was kneeling over Mermista, pressing against her with his ripped off blue jacket. The floor was again stained red beneath the princess. As the captain shifted, Glimmer saw the stitches on her chest had torn during the jump, letting a steady flow of blood leak out.

She explained in short, gasping breaths, “Princess Mermista...magical wound...need sorcerers.” 

To her credit, her aunt stayed calm in the midst of a princess bleeding out in her office. “Bow, follow the signs down to the medical wing. Ask them to set up a bed. Then, tell Lyu and Ilinka to come here and help me move Mermista.” He nodded and shot off through the door, the clamping of his footsteps slowly disappearing.

Casta knelt down next to the captain, magic beginning to glow. “Can you tell me exactly what happened to her?”

“After Salineas fell, she washed up next to my ship, delirious, bleeding out. I don’t know how she was injured so badly, but my crew was barely able to keep her alive the last two days.” He turned towards her, grief stricken, “Can you save her?”

Casta hummed as she looked over Mermista, casting a spell on the wound that slowed the blood loss. “Hold your jacket here,” she pointed to a spot along the wound, “and to answer your question, I believe we can. Mystacor has the finest magical healers on Etheria.”

A choked out sound slipped through the captain’s lips, as he moved to Mermista’s head to whisper something in her ear. Glimmer focused on controlling her breathing, willing the world to stop being so blurry.

Casta gasped as she probed at the cut, “This is fascinating. In an awful way of course. Glimmer, did you notice the raw magic in the wound? Have you ever seen anything like this?” She simply grunted an affirmative. “It feels like your runestone, but concentrated within the body!” Casta peered at the captain, “And you have no idea how this happened?”

His voice was teary, “There were many strange happenings the day Salineas fell. Columns of golden light going to the heavens. Hurricanes and thunderstorms forming within minutes. Explosions in the city.”

Casta gave a reassuring smile to the man as a steady glow enveloped the cut, “Well, once Princess Mermista has been stabilized, she can tell us what happened.”

A stampede of footsteps grew louder and louder before Bow burst through the door along with two women that must have been Lyu and Ilinka. Casta spoke to the pair in hushed tones, gesturing at the princess. The two nodded and carefully levitated the princess into the air, carrying her out of the office and down the hall. The captain hurried after the procession.

Glimmer tried to stand up, but Casta laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “No Glimmer. You have done enough. Rest.” Her attempts at protesting went nowhere. “You teleported four people all the way to Mystacor. You have not even said a complete sentence since arriving. You can’t even keep your eyes open.. You need to rest.”

No, she needed to make sure that Mermista was okay. She needed to find out how Salineas fell to the Horde, and how the princess was nearly killed. She could rest later.

Casta sighed at the expression on Glimmer’s face, “Bow, be a dear and take Glimmer to her room. And make sure she stays ” her aunt stared her down, “until she gets some sleep.” Glimmer attempted to protest, but Bow’s muscular arms wrapped around her, effortlessly pulling her into his chest.

As Bow walked down the hall in the opposite direction of the medical wing, Glimmer let out a growl as her body betrayed her. Stupid Bow with his stupid muscles and his stupid warmth and his stupid cuddliness. The rhythmic vibrations of his gait lulled her eyes shut again, as she reluctantly leaned her head into his chest. 

A bed did sound nice right about now.

------------------------------------------------------------

Melodic sounds drifted through the air, tickling her fuzzy mind. Glimmer grunted and burrowed deeper into the covers, taking full advantage of the unnatural softness of the enchanted fabrics. Her body was tilted slightly, the mattress depressed by Bow’s weight next to her. She reached out, and then made a sleepy scowl as she failed to intertwine a leg with Bow, who was resting on top of the covers. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead before returning to reading on his tracker pad. 

The princess reached up to scratch an itch and was confused by the coloring of her hand. It seemed darker than usual in some spots, and when she rubbed her face, the skin scraped in a weird way. Her sleep addled mind slowly woke up, putting the pieces together.

Bow never slept on top of the covers, and he never wore his armor in their room. Brightmoon never sounded this peaceful. She pawed at a pillow and found it hard, unfamiliar; this wasn’t their bed. The finishing to the walls was of magical runes and glyphs. They were in Mystacor, but why?

The last dot connected as she brought her hand into the light, dark splotches turning red. The cruiser and its distressed captain. The body of Princess Mermista. Jumping to Mystacor. The princess bleeding out in her hands. The princess being carried away. Glimmer herself being carried away.

She jolted up, ripping the covers off. She was almost off the bed when Bow firmly grabbed her arm, pulling her back in, “Hey, slow down. Mermista is alright; they finished her surgery about two hours ago. We have to let her rest some before interrogating her.”

“But-“

“No buts. I tried to go in earlier, but Lyu kicked me out.”

Glimmer growled as she let Bow flop her back down on the soft sheets. Sadly, he was right. Thankfully, there were worse ways to pass time than laying in bed. She teleported over to the bookshelf, grabbing at random a book about sorcery, then returning to the warmth of the bed.

An indefinite amount of time passed as the two lovers laid together, reading. Glimmer usually found it hard to sit still, but sorcery was a growing passion of hers. Not so much the philosophical and theoretical dissertations on the history of magic and its effects on the growth of Etheria, more so the actual spell casting and fighting aspects. She had been slacking on her training since being promoted to commander, but - as everyone loved to say - she was the daughter of an immortal angel and one of the most gifted sorcerers in history, so it came easily to her, even when rusty.

The room soon twinkled with multi-colored light as Glimmer ran through some basic spells, lazily drawing in the air with one hand. These weren’t especially useful ones, but they were tangible evidence of her growing talent. Looking at a drawing but not the description, she experimented with a spell that conjured a plume of fire, startling Bow off the bed.

She sheepishly grinned down at him, offering a hand back up. After that, no more experimenting without first reading what a spell did. By the time the bed began to grow uncomfortable, Glimmer’s skin was buzzing with magic.

Surely Princess Mermista was healed enough to talk to them now. She stretched and slowly got up, sparkles dancing as her hair dragged across Bow’s lap. She was still wearing her clothes from earlier, and seeing as they were about to visit the medical wing, Glimmer didn’t see the point in changing into unrumpled ones. She did, however, wash her face and hands of Mermista’s blood. That was just gross and unsanitary.

Taking Bow’s hand, Glimmer set out for the medical wing, heart racing at what she might learn. Aunt Casta was waiting to intercept them at the entrance, eyes skimming over The Treatise on Magic. Glimmer had read one paragraph once before giving up on ever understanding it.

“Ah, I see that you listened for once and got some rest,” her aunt’s tone was chipper, “Thank you Bow.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was nice. Can I see Mermista now?”

“I believe so, but promise me you will reign yourself in.” Casta pursed her lips. “It’s a miracle she is still alive, and her condition will be delicate for the immediate future.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes, “I promise not to make things worse.” Then she slid past her aunt and barged into the room. 

The air was heavily saturated with healing magic, so much that she was starting to get a contact high. The armetine table floated in the center of the room, glowing faintly. The captain was seated on the edge of the table, leaning over and talking quietly with the princess. Interestingly, he was holding hands with Mermista.

The princess did not look ‘delicate’. Her blue hair had already regained a good amount of its luster, now a mix of saturated blue compared to the sky blue of before. Her nose had been reset, darkly bruised but no longer crooked. She was stripped of her armor, now wearing a pair of grey pants and a cut shirt that left her stomach open to the magical air.

The gaping wound was no longer gushing blood, as a stretch of glowing vertical stitches held it together. The skin around it was pale and sickly, but otherwise the princess had regained most of her pallor; her skin dimly shining. Mermista absentmindedly swirled a stream of water around her off hand, an empty glass sitting next to her. A faint smile graced her lips as she listened to the captain.

“It is good to see you awake, princess,” Casta sighed, “but you should not be using magic so soon after your surgery. Your body was completely drained, and draining it again could have disastrous effects.”

Mermista shrugged, “Eh, I feel pretty good now. It’s a glass of water, not that big-” She gasped as her stomach tensed up, the stream losing its form and splashing onto her leg. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Yeah, it’s good that you, you know, aren’t dead.” Not Glimmer’s best opener. “But how did you nearly die? How did Salineas fall? You’re supposed to be unstoppable.”

Mermista raised an eyebrow, before responding, “She-Ra.” One word, a million questions.

“Like the children’s bedtime story? I don’t see how she’s relevant.”

“It’s what the Horde soldier that almost killed me called herself.” 

“Wait, one soldier defeated you?” Bow chimed in.

Mermista scowled, “Yeah, after I drowned her.” Noticing their confused looks, she continued, “I drowned She-Ra, but then she exploded in this super powerful column of magic. Like, it charged me enough that I made a hurricane.”

“Hold the fuck on-”

“Glimmer, language!” Casta tried to cut her off.

“-you can make a fucking hurricane? Since when?”

Mermista cracked a smug grin, “Since a few days ago. Not that it helped against She-Ra, but it was pretty badass.”

Bow thumbed his chin, “Okay, so the Horde has a magical soldier calling themselves ‘She-Ra’, strong enough to almost kill a princess. That sounds bad. What did she look like? Is it actually She-Ra, or just someone using the name?”

“She looked stupid, but also terrifying.” Mermista grimaced, “Eight feet tall, huge muscles, jet black armor, hard pointy bits, suuuuper evil helmet, and a giant sword with a runestone.”

“Every account of She-Ra describes her as ‘wreathed in golden light.’” Casta hummed, “Your foe wearing black would lead me to believe that she is not the true She-Ra. Describe the sword in greater detail please.”

“It was nearly as long as me, and,” the princess gestured down at her stomach, “this wide. I’ve never seen the metal of the blade before, had these weird carvings on it. There was a turquoise runestone in the hilt, and it was powerful. Like, more powerful than my own.”

Mermista leaned back for a second, before her eyes lit up. “Oh yeah, after I drowned She-Ra and she came back to life, her helmet was off. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a golden aura.”

Casta hummed, “The sword and aura match the common depictions of She-Ra, but every other detail disagrees. I’ll bring some references to clear up the matter. Please, wait a moment.” She hurried out of the room.

Glimmer fidgeted at the pausing of the conversation. It would be weird to walk out as well, only to return in a few minutes. But at the same time, Mermista and the captain had been having a private moment before she barged in. As she awkwardly stared at the princess, Mermista untangled her hand and let a brooding look shadow her face.

The man himself was undeterred by their audience, springing to his feet. His handkerchief had been washed of its - probably blood - stains, as well as his jacket. His brown hair was lush now, haphazardly laying on his scalp. A gleam was in his eyes, overshadowing the dark circles beneath them.

“Thank you, Princess Glimmer,” he fully bowed to her, “for saving my dearest Mermista. Etheria is a little bit brighter because of you.” The captain blinked back the shiny film growing, returning to his seat next to the princess. 

He took her hand again, giving a soft smile to her. “Ugh, do you have to do this in public?” Mermista groaned, but she returned the gesture as a slight blush covered her cheeks. The shadow lightened and some energy returned to her brown eyes.

Glimmer fidgeted again. Was she supposed to look away, give them privacy? Was looking away some faux pas? Is this what other people felt like when they saw her and Bow being all love-y? She felt a bit of sympathy for her mom; public displays of affection were awkward if you weren’t involved.

On the other hand, Bow had no such qualms, letting out a soft squeal as his eyes shined. Mermista shot him a dirty look, but quickly cooled off when Casta burst through the door, carrying two massive volumes.

A resounding thud echoed off the table, as her aunt began to flip through the books, marking pages before setting them aside. Two beautifully illustrated drawings covered most of the length of the table, Mermista shakily rising to her feet to take a look.

The first was She-Ra herself. The woman was massive, wreathed in a golden halo, as her blonde hair flowed in the air. She sported bracers, pauldrons, and a tiara of solid gold. A red cape, skin tight white bodysuit, and overly large, round boots - also gold - completed the outfit. Emblazoned on her chest was a gold sigil in the shape of a phoenix spreading its wings.

Mermista clucked her tongue, “Aside from the hair and the aura, literally nothing is the same. And the She-Ra I fought was definitely bigger; it says here that this one is only about seven feet.”

The second was She-Ra's weapon: a massive broadsword with a runestone embedded in the hilt. The blade was marked by an engraving in the center, running the length of the blade and splitting off into a strange pattern at the tip. The hilt was entirely gold, with the crossguard tapering off into curved wings. The grip ended with an ornate pommel. The turquoise runestone was set in the middle of the gold, around a design that mimicked She-Ra’s tiara. It was a comical weapon if one ignored its given dimensions. 

“Is that seriously She-Ra’s sword?” Glimmer laughed. “How can you even fight with that thing? It looks like it should be hanging in a museum.”

Mermista’s nails dug into her palm, and she let out a measured breath. “This is the sword that almost killed me.” The captain squeezed her hand in an attempt to soothe her.

“So the armor is all wrong, but they had the sword. Maybe the She-Ra you fought stole the sword, but isn’t actually She-Ra.” Bow hypothesized.

“That could be the case, except she was literally oozing raw magic the second time we fought. And her runestone was glowing, so my She-Ra was connected to it.”

“And when I checked your wound, the magical infection felt like a concentrated runestone. So your She-Ra is an experienced magic user.” Casta said.

Glimmer’s mind raced as the other four debated over whether or not the Horde’s new weapon was the She-Ra. So the aesthetics of the newcomer were wrong, but the weapon - the key to She-Ra’s power - was right. The newcomer had controlled unimaginable amounts of magic, if the after effects she had felt inside Mermista were any indication. She was strong enough to fight a hurricane and a princess simultaneously, and win. A chill ran down her spine as she considered the worst case scenario.

“What if this new She-Ra used an illusion spell to change her armor? The gold and white of the old She-Ra wouldn’t make sense for a Horde soldier, so they made it black and red.” The conversations around Glimmer came to a screeching halt. 

Casta opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened, then closed. “I suppose that could be the case, but where would the Horde have found a sorcerer to cast the spell in the first place? As far as we know, none of the princesses are allies with the Horde, and Mystacor has kept close tabs on all of our members ever since… Light Spinner.” A shockingly feral growl came from her aunt. “That bitch!”

“Uhh, who is Light Spinner, and why do you hate her so much?” Bow asked.

“Light Spinner was Micah’s - my brother and Glimmer’s father -” she clarified for Mermista and the captain, “teacher. She was vindictive, arrogant, and power hungry. When the Horde first began its war by conquering the Scorpioni kingdom, she argued that Mystacor should stop them. The council disagreed.” 

Glimmer didn’t understand what was so bad about this ‘Light Spinner’; Mystacor should have stopped the Horde before it ever became a real threat. 

“Afterwards, she decided to rebel against the council and use dark magic to seize power. She deceived Micah into casting the spell, which was pure evil. When he saw the truth, he broke it, and the magic corrupted Light Spinner.” Casta shivered. “Master Norwyn and the other council members attempted to stop her, but she killed them. Micah was only spared because of her obsession with him.” 

Casta made a hand gesture towards the floor, one of warding off evil. “Light Spinner fled Mystacor that night, over forty years ago. We all hoped she had died from the leaching effects of the spell, but if she had joined the Horde, she would have had access to the Black Garnet, a supply of limitless magic.” 

Her aunt sighed, “An illusion spell would be child’s play for Light Spinner. And if the Horde has found and indoctrinated She-Ra, she would be the perfect teacher.”

Those last words sucked the warmth out of the room. 

The Horde had one of the most gifted sorceresses of the era on its side, and Light Spinner had spent who knows how long training the new She-Ra. A being of myth, of raw power, who nearly killed the (formerly) strongest person in the world. 

“But,” Glimmer’s voice came out pathetically small, “isn’t She-Ra supposed to be a good guy? She’s a hero, the savior of Etheria; why would she ever fight for the Horde?”

“The Horde’s propaganda does say that they are going to bring order and prosperity to Etheria.” The captain chimed in. “And if the new She-Ra has grown up in the Horde, from her point of view she is saving Etheria. Not that the Horde are the good guys!” He quickly clarified when Glimmer scowled at him.

Mermista was trying to burn a hole into the books with her gaze. “I talked with She-Ra before we fought. She didn’t say anything about her motives, just that she was there to fight me. She definitely hated me for being a princess.”

Glimmer tapped out a nervous rhythm on the table. “So the Horde has She-Ra, who is willingly fighting for them. Great.”

The Rebellion had been teetering for months as it slowly lost ground to the Horde, the walls closing in. But her mother refused to go on the offensive, choosing to protect the lives of civilians at all costs. A noble gesture, but if they lost the war, what was the point?

She could feel the weight of the world on her shoulders at this moment. The Horde controlled Salineas, which meant Bright Moon and the Salinean fleet were cut off from the greater Etherian oceans. The Horde had She-Ra, and she was going to crush the Rebellion unless something drastic happened. It would be a miracle if they were still standing a year from now.

But as Glimmer looked over at Mermista, a plan began to form. The Rebellion had been losing the past twenty years because it had been conservative, staying on the defensive. While the strategy had seen a large decrease in death tolls across the board, it allowed the Horde to consistently gain ground. The main kingdoms always depended on the strength of its princess to ward off sieges, but with She-Ra in the field, they no longer had the upper hand.

“We need to remake the Princess Alliance.”

Mermista whipped her head around, a wide smile on her face. “I totally agree.” Well that was a lot easier than Glimmer thought it would be. 

Bow, as always, tried to be the voice of reason. “Uh, wasn’t the last Princess Alliance a complete disaster that nearly lost the war and got your dad killed?” He sympathetically winced at the last part.

Surprisingly, Mermista came to Glimmer’s defense before she could respond. “Yeah, but the stakes are way too high now to not make the alliance. I’m the most powerful person in the world, and even at full strength, next to the ocean and my runestone, I couldn’t beat She-Ra. No one can beat her alone. But together…” 

“I agree,” Casta said, “if She-Ra is as powerful as the myths claim, then only the combined might of the princesses could hope to defeat her.”

“And now we’ve got four! You,” Glimmer pointed at Mermista, “me, Netossa, and Spinnerella!”

Bow’s eyes lit up, “And in two months, we’ll be able to recruit more at the Princess Ball!” Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest; she had completely forgotten about her first Princess Prom! 

Mermista gestured down at her stomach, “And if anyone is being stubborn, I can just show them how I almost died.”

Then Casta put her foot down. “While I agree with forming the Princess Alliance, you-” She looked at Mermista. “-will not be leaving Mystacor until it is time for the ball.” The princess scowled, but Casta cut her off. “You need to heal. Glimmer and the others will need you at full strength, so that means plenty of rest and physical therapy.”

“But my people! I need to-”

Casta held up a palm. “Queen Angella has handled many refugee crises; your people will be taken care of. And you won’t be helping them by rushing out and hurting yourself.”

Mermista started to form a rebuttal, but the captain cut her off, taking both her hands. “No one blames you for the loss of Salineas. You did more than anyone could have ever expected of you. You are the strongest person in the world, but that does not mean you have to do everything alone. Let us help you.” 

The fire in her eyes died as the princess sank back down at the edge of the table, the captain assisting her descent. “Fine,” she gritted out, “so what are we going to do in the meantime? I am not going to sit around and do nothing for two months waiting for the ball.”

“We research!” Casta’s eyes gleamed with uncontrollable excitement. “Mystacor has the greatest collection of magical knowledge in the world; there is an entire wing in one of the libraries dedicated to She-Ra. If you,” she glanced at Glimmer, then Mermista, “are going to fight her, you will need to know everything you possibly can about her.”

Glimmer gaped. Did Casta just give them homework? And it seemed that she was the only one opposed to the notion. Bow did a small fist pump. Mermista gave a small grin and said, “Sounds good to me. I’m looking forward to some payback.” The captain merely continued to hold hands with the princess, a light expression on his face.

Begrudgingly. Glimmer accepted her fate. It did make sense to learn how to better fight She-Ra, but reading a mountain of books did not sound like a good time. But if it saved Etheria, so be it.

“Fine, where do we start?”

------------------------------------------------------------

Seven days later, Glimmer was having to dig deep to continue her research. Aunt Casta had not been exaggerating the breadth of knowledge on She-Ra; the combined efforts of herself, Bow, Sea Hawk (she had finally learned the captain’s name), and Mermista had only cleared one towering bookshelf by the entrance. There was just so much written about She-Ra, and so little of it was relevant to the princesses’ goal of fighting her. 

She didn’t need to know the linguistic complexities and theories behind the name. The books on cultures that worshipped She-Ra were similarly useless. They needed to know what She-Ra could and couldn’t do; the former was easy enough to find, the latter impossible. The limits to the goddess’s power were vague, with some scholars hypothesizing that her power was limitless, thus the moniker “The Princess of Power.” Glimmer really hoped that wasn’t the case.

She-Ra’s weaknesses might as well not exist. Casta had spoken with some of the preeminent scholars on the matter, and they had very little to say. Whether such information was erased, lost to time, or simply did not exist in the first place, the end result was just as depressing. While there were countless tales of the goddess’s heroic feats, there was nothing of her failures.

Glimmer groaned in frustration, chucking a book into the pile on top of a nearby table. She was stuck on one page for the last ten minutes, mind refusing to suffer through more dense prose on the origins of She-Ra. Bow glanced up from his beanbag chair, looking entirely at ease, and gave her a sympathetic smile.

Neither Sea Hawk nor Mermista turned at the sound, laying together on a couch and talking quietly. She needed a break. At random, she thought of an aisle in the library and teleported. When the world refocused, she was in an unfamiliar location.

Glimmer wandered the room aimlessly, dragging her fingertips along the ridges of the bookshelves and their contents. She was in an older section, one that didn’t get many visits, if the light film of dust along the books was any indication. It was darker too, the lights of the main entrance dimming as they stretched towards her.

It was quiet. She didn’t have to listen to the soft rustling of pages turning, the shifting of fabric in Bow’s chair, or the whispers of the two lovers. It was uniform and dark. There was no pile of books to distract her mind, no irritating bright lights.

Glimmer raked her fingers along the shelf, unexpectedly bumping into something hard and knocking it on the floor. A film of dust shot up, making the princess cough as she waved a hand through the cloud. Laying on the floor was a tattered journal, cover half ripped off, with a dense layer of dirt. She gingerly picked it up, intending to throw the gross thing back on a shelf, but paused when the cover ripped off the spine, revealing a lengthy foreword as it fell to the ground.

It read:

I do not know who I can trust, nor who will trust me. Even now, I find it difficult to believe what I have experienced. I have unraveled the mysteries of Etheria, of magic, and have borne witness to the truth of our world. I have been blessed with terrible knowledge; knowledge that disproves nearly every belief there is about Etheria. I have seen things too terrible to describe in my notes, visions of demons and stars and infinite worlds. Visions of a green specter that stretches across the universe. I am humbled and terrified in the face of my enlightenment.

Perhaps these are only ramblings of a dead man walking. Perhaps no one will suffer as I have, learn what I have. But it is my duty, as a scholar, as a sorcerer, to record my findings, no matter how awful they may be. It gives me comfort, committing the truth to this paper; any sentient being would find me quite mad. 

If any unlucky soul is to find this journal, be warned. My fate is an unkind one, and I have no wish to doom others alongside me. This is not a flowery soliloquy on the beauty of life, but an unhinged rant on the horrors of it. 

I see things now; things I have not before. The line between reality and visions is ever blurring, or perhaps this has always been our reality, and now my eyes have been opened. I look at the masses of the commoners and envy their obliviousness; how they can wander through life without knowing what our world really is.

But such is the fate of the great ones. The world moves forward because of our ambition, because we are willing to go to lengths far beyond that of common folk. We desire more, care more, dream more. We shape history itself through our actions. Ours is a lonely path.

Glimmer snorted at the dramatic tone of the author. They sounded completely full of themselves. Noticing a bookmark, she flipped the book open to the start of a chapter, gagging as another dust cloud rose. Either the author was a messy writer, or someone after them had scribbled all over the margins in maroon ink. She plopped down in a nearby chair, eager to laugh at some pompous garbage.

Six hours later, she hadn’t moved from her seat. The contents of this journal - and of one chapter in particular - were very interesting.

Chapter Text

Adora’s mind lulled in the fuzzy inbetween of consciousness and sleep, gentle vibrations soothing her thoughts. She could feel the soft brush of sheets against her skin, the salty air on her lips, and a rocking motion that ticked back and forth. But she could not find the energy to fully wake up; even in this addled state, she knew she was tired, deeply so. She could feel the aches in her muscles, the groaning of her stomach, the pressure in her head, the cold in her veins. 

She was not sure how long she drifted in the pleasant darkness. There were occasional sensations that overrode the others and threatened to drag her awake: warm, liquid slop rolling down her throat, sharp pin pricks on the back of her hand, the brush of soft lips on her forehead. But Adora resisted; she didn’t want to wake up, to feel the full extent of her pain. 

Whispers began to echo in the void around her, indecipherable, but the meaning behind them still resonated. They made Adora feel warm and fuzzy, washing away the aches in her chest. Her left cheek warmed up, and Adora’s heart fluttered. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she loved it. These experiences continued for an indefinite amount of time, as her body slowly stopped hurting.

Eventually, she found the will to attempt to wake up. On the other side, there would be no pain, just the comforting presence that had pulled itself around the walls of Adora’s mind, keeping her safe. Sucking in a deep breath - although she didn’t need to breathe in this dreamscape - Adora strained her muscles, fighting against the now oppressive darkness. 

It felt like a century had passed before she made any progress, eyelids cracking just a hair to let in overwhelming light. Adora nearly shrank back into her shell at the glare. Time crawled as her eyes creaked open, the glare slowly fading away to let in reality. The first thing she noticed was the grey metal walls of the room. The second was the soft moonlight streaking through an open window. Third were her hands, laying flat on the sheets, each with a needle taped against the skin. Fourth was the warm weight at her side, the culprit a feline curled into her body.

What was her name? The woman was the world to her, but she couldn’t remember her name. Adora knew how her claws felt against her skin, the cheeky grin with her canines poking out, the flapping of her ears when she was flustered. The way her tail danced with a mind of its own, wrapping around Adora’s limbs. How blue and yellow eyes glowed in the dark, staring up at her as they laid in bed together. The woman was softly purring, rumbling against Adora’s chest, and she knew that she was the only one allowed to hear that sound. 

Sweat began to bead on her forehead as Adora tried to remember the woman’s name. What kind of person was she? What kind of friend - or lover? - couldn’t remember a name? And as she struggled, cold began creeping up her spine, worming its way into her mind.

She couldn’t remember. Anything.   

The shadows on the walls began to loom in, crawling towards her and blotting out the moonlight. The covers tightened against her body, pinning her down in the bed. The aches had returned, making it impossible for Adora to move, to resist. She was too weak - too pathetic - to turn her head, eyes locked onto a vague point in the approaching darkness. Drops of sweat rolled down her nose as the room, what little of it that was still visible, quickly blurred. 

Her chest began to crunch in on itself, the weight of the covers constricting around her torso, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Adora screamed in her mind as she willed her hands to move, to throw off the oppressive weight, but she couldn’t even elicit a small twitch. The woman at her side remained blissfully unaware of her struggle, snuggling deeper into her flank. The motion pushed out any last bits of air. Adora began to panic.

She couldn’t breathe. Icy cold ripping away at her lungs . She couldn’t move. The weight of a river holding her down. She couldn’t see. Freezing darkness surrounding her. She was weak. Heart bursting through her chest as she ran down a street. She was a failure. Metal stabbing through her shoulder; a flood smashing her to bits. She was scared. Too cowardly to admit her love.

With her last bits of strength, Adora wrenched her eyes shut, praying to retreat to the fuzzy dreamscape. She hurt so much and wanted nothing more than to drift in nothingness for eternity. But salvation eluded her. She was perfectly aware of the burning of her heart, the frigidness of her skin, and the growing panic in her throat.

Far in the distance, she heard a roaring crash, and the room was sprayed with a light mist. The smell of the ocean flooded her senses, giving her an anchor to focus on. So she was on a boat in the ocean. She remembered now. Standing on a deck, hugging the feline as tight as she could. Adora fought and scraped for the pieces of memory that twinkled in front of her, teasing as they danced through her grasp. 

Bit by bit, she remembered. She had been in a city. A hurricane raging as it destroyed the world around her. She had fought a woman. Blue hair, brown eyes, yellow armor all glowing as she stared the princess down. She nearly died. Lungs filling with icy water. She was powerful. An explosion of golden light, washing away the cold. She won. A massive blade cutting through the princess, stained with her blood. 

She made a promise.

Slowly, the darkness began to recede, as a warmth began to bloom in Adora’s heart. The pressure on her chest loosened, allowing her to greedily suck in deep breaths. Muscles unstiffened, and she quickly threw the covers as far as she could. 

The woman next to her grumbled at the jostling, eyes blearily cracking open. At this moment, Adora remembered. She remembered sharing ration bars and cheating on tests and running through the halls of their home together. She remembered the thrill of sparring with the woman next to her, the way her heart raced when she was pinned down. She remembered being the only one to crack the cold exterior to reveal the loving inside. 

She remembered her world.

She remembered Catra.

Adora leaned over, wrapping her arms around Catra. Catra jolted up, eyes wide as she croaked, “You’re awake!” Then, she blushed and ran a hand through her mane, composing her features. This time, her tone was more casual, “I mean, finally, you’re awake.”

Her brow furrowed, “What do you mean, ‘finally’?”

“You’ve been asleep for a couple days. I had to drag you off the deck all by myself, which wasn’t fun seeing as you were still She-Ra.”

Adora stared down at her hands, at how the light reflected off the needles if she tilted them just right. “What happened to me? Where are we?”

“I don’t know. One minute you were fine, the next you passed out on top of me. We spent four days in the medical wing, while tests were being run. Turns out, you were just really tired or something? I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the details.”

“We?”

Catra blushed again, “You were unconscious, with a bunch of strangers poking around at you with sharp objects. I stayed with you to make sure you were alright.”

Adora smirked and dragged her knuckles on Catra’s head, “Awww, it’s almost like you like me!” 

Catra scowled, slapping away her hand. “I was just...scared, okay? You didn’t look good.”

“I feel great.” Okay, that was a lie. She ached all over and was still light headed, but nothing she hadn’t gone through before. These were the usual after effects of transforming into She-Ra.

“That’s because you’ve been getting pumped full of medicine, genius.” Catra slapped Adora’s hand again, which was fidgeting with one of the needles. “You take those out, you’re going to feel really bad. So don’t do that.”

Adora rolled her eyes, “I’m fine.” She kicked the covers onto the floor, swinging her legs over the side of the bed before Catra could stop her. She stood for a moment and felt fine; a bit stiff from laying in bed for several days, but nothing severe. Then she tried to walk over to the mirror hanging on the far wall and promptly collapsed in a heap.

“Adora,” Catra sighed, “I literally just told you to not do that.” She pulled Adora into a sitting position against the bed frame, her legs splaying uselessly in front of them. The room shook as a violent wave crashed against the ship’s hull, making Adora’s head bang against the metal.

“Owwww!” Adora blinked back tears, “Why are we on a boat?”

“Once the doctors cleared you, we got sent on a ship headed back to the Fright Zone. Lord Hordak wants us to report on the battle of Salineas. We’re about three hours out.” Catra rubbed the small bruise forming on the back of Adora’s head. Noticing the spark of interest in her eyes, Catra continued, “The occupation of Salineas was just about complete when we left this morning. Their navy fled to Brightmoon’s waters and haven’t come out since. And there’s been no sign of Princess Mermista.”

Adora let the words settle in. She had actually done it. She liberated Salineas. She killed a princess. She began to laugh, a soft rumble that quickly filled the room in its fervor. 

Catra tilted her head, “Uh, Adora? You okay?”

She couldn’t help the wide grin on her face. “We did it Catra! We conquered a kingdom for the Horde! We’re heroes! All because of your plan!”

Catra smiled back, “Yeah, we are. But we already talked about this. Remember? In Salineas?” 

She frowned. Most of her memory between killing Mermista and waking up here was still fuzzy; all she remembered was hugging Catra. But she quickly smiled back, putting on an air of false bravado, “Well maybe I just wanted to say it again. You’re a hero Catra!”

Catra was about to respond, but Adora’s stomach growled embarrassingly loud. Her friend cackled, falling over herself as Adora blushed and sputtered. “C’mon, let’s go get some food.” Catra’s voice lost some of its humor. “You definitely could use some.” 

Catra threw Adora’s arm over her shoulder, using the bed to help her lift Adora off the ground. She nearly collapsed again, taking down Catra with her, but Catra was able to stabilize herself, shifting Adora’s weight to where she could lean on Catra for support. They limped over to the far wall, where her boots, jacket, and sword were all sitting on a small desk.

Adora plopped down into the desk’s chair, pulling on her clothes and shoes. Catra helped guide her arms through the sleeves, careful to not dislodge the needles still in the back of her hands. It took a few tries for her to tie the knot on her boots. The sword - now a vambrace on her forearm - was red hot in sharp contrast to the chill still on her skin.

She glanced up at the mirror and gasped. Sunken blue eyes stared back at her. Her face was sheet white, the blue of her veins prominent. Her hair, which had been turning more gold than blonde, had lost all of its luster, now a sickly and faded yellow. Her jawline was more pronounced, the skin tight against the bone. She looked as bad as she felt.

Catra stood behind her, a sympathetic expression on her face as she gently untangled Adora’s bed head. The loose strands hung haphazardly, and they both winced several times as some pieces came out,  fluttering pathetically onto the floor. Catra made a loose ponytail for her, not bothering with the hair poof.

Taking a shaky breath, Adora leaned on Catra as they trudged out of the room.

------------------------------------------------------------

Her nose wrinkled as they made their way deeper into the Fright Zone. Her home always smelled bad, of sulfur and burning and garbage, but eventually Catra had gotten used to it. She knew which areas, mainly those at or below ground level, smelled the worst and to avoid them. But after experiencing the clean, open air of Salineas, even the well ventilated, somewhat pleasant officers’ quarters and commanders’ offices smelled terrible.  

The air quality was affecting Adora too, as she coughed every few steps. Catra’s heart sank as the sounds got worse and worse the more they walked. Adora never got sick, but right now, she could barely keep her feet under her. Thankfully, she had regained a little bit of her color after eating, skin no longer bleached white. But as they turned a corner, nearly at the throne room, Adora stumbled out of her grasp, blood draining from her face as she collapsed against the wall. Catra crouched next to her just in time for Adora to vomit on the ground, the grey chunks of half digested ration bars blending in with the floor.

“Adora!” She grimanced when she saw the unfocused look in those blue eyes. When Adora didn’t respond, Catra shook her shoulder gently. “Adora!” A low groan forced its way out of her mouth, before she heaved again and threw up the rest of her lunch. Catra scrambled to pull Adora to the side before she fell into her own vomit.

Adora shakily put a hand in her mouth, biting down on her knuckles in an effort to regain control. Her other hand grabbed onto the wall, and the hard metal crunched beneath her grasp. A soft blue light shined from the runestone on her forearm, as Adora slowly pulled herself up. Her legs trembled as she stood, and Catra readied herself to catch her idiot when she inevitably fell. 

But she didn’t fall. She turned to Catra, and Catra found herself staring into shining blue eyes. Adora gave a shaky smirk and said, “I’m fine.” Then she turned and continued walking towards the throne room like nothing had happened.

Catra sputtered as she raced to catch up. “You’re fine? I just watched you throw up all over the floor, after you were coughing up a lung for twenty minutes, after you were in a coma for five days, and you’re fine?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Adora waggled her hand for effect, letting the green light of the corridor reflect off her vambrace. “She-Ra, remember?”

“She-Ra doesn’t mean you are invincible. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been in a coma and puking your guts out.”

“She kinda is. I got stabbed and drowned in Salineas, and look! I’m completely fine.”

“You what!?”

Adora quickly backtracked, “I know that sounds bad, but it really wasn’t. I healed fast. And it didn’t hurt that badly to begin with.” She was saved from Catra’s indignation as they entered the throne room.

It was a sight to behold. The gaping chasm stretching above them. The shadowy pillars of machines and wiring that shrouded the walkway. Green lights illuminated an elevated platform connected to the walkway by a flight of metal stairs, each with its own lighting. Shadow Weaver stood on top of the platform, to the side of the dais on which the throne was seated. Her back was turned to the pair, speaking to Lord Hordak. The leader of the Horde had a neutral, bored expression on his face, but as Catra and Adora made their way to the base of the stairs, his red eyes flicked down to them in interest, lips curling slightly.

As they reached the platform, Hordak remarked, “So this is She-Ra? I expected something more.” 

Catra couldn’t help but wince as she glanced over at Adora. Adora had seen much better days; her complexion was roughly the same as when she woke from her coma, her hair the same faded yellow, and while her eyes shined faintly, this only drew more attention to her prominent veins. Her usually perfect posture was now a slight slump, face tight as she stood at attention.

Shadow Weaver floated towards them, head cocked to the side. “Yes, but there is something amiss with her. And I believe I know exactly what the issue is.” She stopped in front of Adora, before taking her head in both hands. Catra’s hackles raised as Shadow Weaver’s grip tightened and shadows began to creep from her fingertips onto Adora’s skin. While Adora appeared to stay perfectly composed, Catra could see her neck tense. And was it her imagination, or did the runestone glow brighter?

Thankfully, it only took a few moments for Shadow Weaver to find what she was looking for. She released Adora’s head - who visibly relaxed - and moved to stand in front of Hordak. “It is as I suspected, my lord. Force Captain Adora is merely suffering from magic exhaustion. It is a common illness among sorcerers and will only afflict her for a few more days. There is no reason for doubt.”

Hordak grunted, “I see.” Then he shifted his gaze onto Adora. “Force Captain Adora, your report on the battle of Salineas?”

Adora gulped before stepping forward. “I entered the city while Princess Mermista and her fleet were distracted by the Horde navy. I successfully removed the princess from the naval side of the battle, then we fought inside the city. I killed her and destroyed the Seagate.” She rubbed her head sheepishly. “Then, I passed out and didn’t wake up until a few hours ago.”

He steepled his hands under his chin, “And how exactly do you know you killed Princess Mermista? No body has been recovered yet. If she is alive…”

“That won’t be a concern, my lord. I impaled her on She-Ra’s sword, and then she fell into an underground river. She was bleeding out; there’s no way she could have survived!”

Hordak remained like a statue as he brooded. “Very well. I suppose congratulations are in order, seeing as you have delivered the first meaningful victory in years. My trust was not misplaced.” Catra preened; Lord Hordak was praising her plan.

Then Shadow Weaver butted in. “Thank you, Lord Hordak. I assured you that She-Ra would be the weapon to win you the war, and she has not failed.”

“Yes, despite her unseemly appearance, to kill a princess is quite the statement. You have done well in raising her.” Hordak glanced at Catra, “Your plan was a success, despite the incident aboard the flagship. Do not let that happen again.”

She winced, “Yes sir.”

“My lord, her plan?” Shadow Weaver was indignant. “Catra is not-”

In an instant, Hordak shot out of his throne, towering over his second in command. “ Catra is the one whose plan resulted in our victory at Salineas. Catra is the one who I gave my blessing to. She is the one who I entrusted with classified military secrets. She has proven her worth to me.” Shadow Weaver shrunk beneath his fiery gaze. 

He stomped over to Catra, the platform vibrating from his weight, and held out a metal hand. A flash of green reflected, and her heart skipped a beat. A genuine smile spread across Hordak’s face as he said, “Rise, Force Captain Catra.” She numbly accepted the officer’s badge and pinned it to her shirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adora smile.

“You’re promoting Catra to Force Captain!? She is not qualified; she is too selfish, too destructive, too lazy! There is not even an opening to begin with.”

A dangerous scowl washed away Hordak’s smile as he turned away from Catra. “You forget your place, Shadow Weaver. I am the Lord of the Horde, and my decisions are final. Besides, all I have seen from Catra is loyalty, respect, and competence. In one week, she has done more for me than you and the other Force Captains have in years. So yes, I am promoting her.”

He sat back down in his throne with a dignified air as he addressed Catra. “You will report directly to me, and only me. You are in charge of a special task force, one that will win us the war. Your orders come directly from me, and you are to use every resource the Horde has to carry out my will. Force Captain Adora.”

Adora wiped the dopey grin off her face and turned back towards Hordak.

“You are being demoted.” Her face fell instantly. “She-Ra is too valuable to be wasted on the day to day drivel of leadership; the same goes for your training sessions with Shadow Weaver. You will devote yourself solely to becoming stronger, to becoming the perfect weapon.” She nodded, eyes glued to the floor.

“Before you are given your first mission, you are to rest and heal. She-Ra cannot be effective if you are not at full strength. I will summon the two of you when I feel you are prepared. Dismissed.” 

Catra and Adora saluted before heading down the stairs. Dimly, over the thud of their feet on the metal, Catra could make out Shadow Weaver attempting one last protest, but the ensuing growl from Hordak quickly snuffed that out. Her heart thumped at a thousand miles per hour. What the fuck just happened?

Hordak congratulated her. Promoted her to a special position, one where she was free of Shadow Weaver. He had cast aside Adora - She-Ra, the strongest person in the world - in favor of her. He trusted her. 

She was important now.

------------------------------------------------------------

Adora’s muscles quaked as they made their way to their room. The simple task of putting one foot in front of the other required every bit of focus, which helped distract her from the growing pain. The runestone slowly dimmed before fading completely, and the aches began to return. Her throat was still raw from her earlier sickness, and it was beginning to tingle again. She just needed to lay down and go to sleep, preferably for a long time. Lord Hordak had ordered her to. 

Her hand drifted to the oppressive weight of the badge on her chest, ripping it off. Demoted. She killed a princess and liberated Salineas - nearly dying in the process - and her reward was being stripped of her life’s ambition. It made no sense. And why did Lord Hordak promote Catra in her place? 

As soon as that thought entered her mind, Adora growled and shook her head. She should be happy for Catra. An authority figure finally respected her, and now she answered directly to Lord Hordak! Catra deserved this moment, and Adora would not drag her down in self pity.

But as the room came into her sight, the edges of the badge began to cut into her palm. A soft crackle echoed off the walls, and she looked down to find the badge in shards, blood beginning to spill out from under it.

Catra bounded ahead and leaped onto the bed, a wild grin on her face as she traced a claw along her (intact) badge. Adora threw hers into a trash bin, the pieces shattering from the force. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile that hopefully was not too strained, then turned around and sat on the bed next to Catra.

Catra quickly tackled her. “Adora! Can you believe this?! I’m a Force Captain. And I don’t have to report to Shadow Weaver! We’re going to go on secret missions and conquer Etheria; and before you know it, we’re going to be ruling the world!” Her eyes glittered as she laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that Adora had never heard before. “And did you see the look on Shadow Weaver’s face?!”

“Not really, considering the mask. But I’m happy for you Catra! You deserve this.” 

Adora pulled Catra in tight, both because she wanted to hug her friend and to hide her stricken expression. She wasn’t lying when she said she was happy, but that failed to mask the emotions swirling in her chest. Why wasn’t she good enough? 

“Uh, Adora?” Catra squeaked, “Can you let me go? You’re kinda strangling me right now.” She immediately let go, letting Catra sprawl back. She felt uncomfortable as blue and yellow eyes stared her down. Was she smiling too hard? Was it more of a grimace? Were her eyes betraying her true feelings?

“Are you okay, Adora?” Catra asked far too softly, so nicely that Adora had to bite back a sharp retort. Yes, she was fine; she didn’t need Catra worrying about - or worse, pitying - her. 

“I’m fine, Catra, just tired. You heard Lord Hordak; I need to rest.” Catra narrowed her eyes as she leaned in and softly cradled Adora’s cheek. She leaned into her soft fur, unable to hold Catra’s gaze as she looked down at the sheets.

“Look,” Catra rubbed the back of her head, “I’m...sorry that Hordak demoted you. I guess me being super happy would be rubbing it in your face. I didn’t mean it like that; I was just really excited.”

So Adora had failed at not dragging Catra down with her. “No! It’s not that, Catra,” she protested. “I’m happy for you, and being demoted isn’t that big of a deal. I’m just...tired, okay?” But she had never been a good liar, and Catra knew her too well.

“Adora, when you got promoted, did anything change between us? Did you treat me differently because you were a captain and I wasn’t?” She shook her head. “Then that is how I am going to treat you. You still respected me, and I still respect you. It’s just now someone else is respecting me as well.” Catra’s teeth gleamed in the soft light as she smirked. “We’re a team, remember? It doesn’t matter who is wearing the badge, as long as we have each other.”

Some of the tension left Adora’s shoulders as she slouched back. “I never thought you would treat me differently; it’s just that it hurts , being cast aside for someone else. I spent my whole life working to be a captain, and then I succeeded! But after my first mission, it gets taken from me? It isn’t fa-” 

She snapped her mouth shut when she saw Catra’s eyes tighten, and there was a faint ripping sound as Catra’s free hand dug into the bed. 

Adora’s heart sank as she turned her words over in her mind. God, she was such an asshole. She had said she was happy for Catra, then in the next breath complained about how things weren’t fair because Catra won and she lost. It hurts being cast aside for someone else. Could she have been more selfish?

Carefully, she pulled herself forward until she was kneeling in front of Catra. Adora gently took her claws in her hands, softly rubbing her thumb along the backs. “I am sorry, Catra. That was wrong. I’m not frustrated with you, just with Hordak. I am so, so happy you are finally being appreciated. I’ll support you however I can.”

Catra retracted her claws slightly, but otherwise left her hands in Adora’s grasp as the motions continued. “It’s fine.” She sighed. “I get where you’re coming from. I don’t understand why we couldn’t both be captains, and why Hordak had to put you down while praising me. But it doesn’t matter. You’re She-Ra. You don’t need some dumb badge.”

They sat in silence for a while, Adora continuing to rub her thumbs along Catra’s fur. It was relaxing, even as she became hyper aware of the heat beneath her fingertips and Catra’s eyes locked on her. Her stomach twisted and tumbled as she considered what to do next.

Catra was in such a good mood, based off of the soft purrs echoing around her, that Adora almost didn’t want to do anything. Just let things continue as they were until one or both of them got tired, then they would go to sleep. That was the safe choice, the cowardly choice.

The bold and risky choice could upset the entire mood. Scratch that, it could destroy their entire relationship. She didn’t know how Catra felt, and Catra wasn’t the best with emotions even on her good days. But as Adora zoned out and remembered everything that happened in the past two weeks, she slowly found her nerve. Actions spoke louder than words, and based on her actions, she was pretty sure Catra felt the same way.

Taking a deep breath, Adora dove in. She stopped her machinations, holding Catra’s hands softly. She pulled her gaze up to meet Catra’s. “When I was fighting Princess Mermista, it wasn’t as simple as what I told Hordak. She was too strong. I was losing, and she stabbed me through the shoulder.” She let go of one of Catra’s hands to pull down the collar of her shirt, revealing the angry red scar on her left shoulder. With the other, she guided Catra’s hand to it, letting her softly trace the mark. “After that, she knocked me into this underground river and tried to drown me. She succeeded.”

Catra’s ears pinned themselves back and her hackles raised. “Why are you telling me this, Adora? You’re sitting right in front of me. I can feel you. You didn’t die!”

“But I did.” Adora smiled at her. “I was too weak; I blacked out. I thought that was it.”

“Adora, stop!”

“Catra, please, just listen. I had a vision of you and me in our spot when we were cadets. I remembered sleeping against you, and how you brushed your claws through my hair. I remembered you kissing my forehead.” 

Warmth began to bloom inside her chest. 

“I remembered wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. And then I woke up.”

Catra gaped at her, making Adora blush, but she powered through. “I woke up, and I had never felt so alive. I found strength I didn’t know I had, and I survived. Did you see the pillar of golden light in the city?” Catra shakily nodded. “That was me. I walked out of the pit and I killed Mermista. Not because she was my enemy or because the Horde needed to take Salineas; I only did it so I could come back to you.”

She retook Catra’s hand. “Catra, I...I love you. So much. And I’ve known it for so long, but I was always too afraid to admit it. But when Mermista almost killed me, it scared me. Not because I was about to die, but because I wouldn’t get to spend my life with you. That you would never know how much you mean to me.” She was crying now, the room blurring as she poured her heart out to Catra.

The several moments Catra took to respond stopped Adora’s heart. Had she miscalculated? Did Catra not love her the same way? Had she just made the biggest mistake of-

Catra squeezed her hands back, pulling Adora in close. Her eyes shone through their own film of tears. “I love you too,” she choked. “I always have.”

Then they leaned in

and softly kissed.

Adora had said that her moment in the void was the most alive she had ever felt, but it paled in comparison to right now. Her aches, her sickness, her doubts all washed away as she got lost in the sensation of Catra. The way her claws softly gripped her hands. How stray strands of her mane brushed against Adora’s face. The softness of her lips, and the slight hint of salt as their tears mixed. The quiet purr that sounded every time they broke apart to catch their breath. 

Some time later, Catra buried her face in Adora’s chest, intertwining their legs. Adora rested her chin in Catra’s soft mane, snuggling into the warmth as Catra wrapped her hands around Adora’s waist, and Adora’s muscular arms pulled her in tight. They fell into blissful sleep as a soft, golden glow enveloped the two lovers.

Chapter Text

Catra purred as she laid in Adora’s lap, snuggling against the warmth of her chest and legs. Rough hands delicately scratched at her ears before drifting into her tangled mane, stroking out the clumps. A gentle breeze drifted past, soothing her skin. Tension drained from her muscles.

Today had been a great day; actually, it might have been the best day of Catra’s life. Their junior cadet final exams had gone flawlessly. Adora - predictably - stole the show, acing every test and winning the hand-to-hand combat tournament. Surprisingly, Catra had performed nearly as well. She comfortably passed the written portions of her exams and finished second in the tournament. She lasted longer than anyone else against Adora, and even pushed her friend to the brink of defeat.

For once, Shadow Weaver could find nothing ill to say about her performance. She refused to say anything encouraging to Catra, in sharp contrast to the praise Adora received, but her peers and other teachers begrudgingly acknowledged her performance. 

And now she was a senior cadet, just one year away from getting out of the Fright Zone, away from Shadow Weaver. Catra held no delusions about getting an illustrious position in the Horde, but she was confident that Adora would get promoted to Force Captain. And wherever Adora went, so did Catra.

They were given one week off from their training - an eternity in the Horde - and so they had run off to their spot high above the world. She had smuggled some grey ration bars, and they enjoyed a celebratory dinner. No worrying about missing curfew or studying for the next test or getting enough sleep.  Just her and Adora; alone. 

With her belly full, Catra gave a wide yawn and collapsed against Adora. Adora laughed and shifted to let her lay down. Her long fingers teasingly traced Catra’s ears, before she began to scratch at them. Her tail wrapped around one of Adora’s wrists, with Adora’s thumb gently rubbing the tip. 

Catra lived for moments like these; they made the scars and electrical burns and screams almost worth it, to see the worshiping look on Adora’s face as she treated her like the most beautiful thing in the world. Adora was the golden child, the perfect soldier, and she could have anyone and anything she wanted. But she stayed. Adora would never leave her behind. 

The soft moonlight fell on Adora’s face, accenting her strong jawline and reflecting off her blue eyes staring down at Catra. Her hair - freed from its restrictive ponytail - waved in the breeze, a golden curtain that Catra wanted to gently run her claws through. 

When she looked into Adora’s eyes, they both fell into a trance; neither able to look away, baby blue eyes somehow turning even softer. Adora continued to carefully comb through her mane, and a soft, dopey grin began to spread on her face. She leaned down towards Catra, and Catra found herself closing the gap as well. Her eyes fluttered as they leaned in and

The soft pressure of rough lips woke Catra up, eyes cracking open to find Adora laying next to her. Kissing her. So tenderly and loving that it made her heart skip a beat. Even though Adora had been waking her up this way for the past week, it still overwhelmed Catra, how much she was loved. 

The morning after they confessed to each other, Catra had woken up first. The few minutes where she was awake and Adora was not seemed to last an eternity. Her heart had nearly shattered, believing the previous night’s events to have been nothing more than a fever dream.

Then, Adora had woken up and pulled Catra in tight, before gently kissing her, as if to remind herself that this was real. Catra had kissed back, barely holding back a flood of tears. It took an hour for them to emotionally stabilize, to understand that this was real . They were in love, and no one would take that away. 

As a result, the past week had been the best week of her life. Per her new position, she and Adora had no duties to attend to, seeing as they were still waiting on their first mission. That meant they could sleep in as late as they wanted. Adora had still attempted to get up bright and early the first few days, but Catra quickly dragged her back to bed. Now, she was content to cuddle with Catra: stroking her fur, petting her ears, and kissing her forehead until she woke up.

Once Catra grew tired of lying in bed, they would get up, dress, and grab breakfast. Because their brutal training sessions with Shadow Weaver were over, they took their time, enjoying all the grey ration bars they could eat. Adora was eating more now, and eating more consistently. She had always been abnormally tall for her age, and since discovering She-Ra, she had started a third growth spurt. Now, Catra only came up to Adora’s chin, but that only made it easier for her to snuggle with Adora at night.

And with consistent nutrition and rest, Adora was beginning to fill out muscle wise. Where her trademark jacket would have previously hidden the perfectly toned, lean muscles, now it stretched at the seams. While Adora lacked the gargantuan size of Scorpia or Rogelio, she was awe inspiring for a ‘normal’ human. 

After eating, they hit the training rooms. Adora did not bring out She-Ra, and they did not run any dangerous simulations. They needed to keep their minds and bodies sharp, but after their performance at Salineas, there was no reason to push the boundaries. That was Catra’s mindset: go in, smash a few bots, maybe hit the gym, do just enough to work up a light sweat.

Adora - of course - refused to relax. She went in with a single minded determination to one up everyone else, even though Catra was usually the only one around her. She fought waves of bots with her sword until she was drenched in sweat. Then she moved on to the weight racks, where she set a new personal best, every day inching closer to Scorpia’s record. Afterwards, she ran around the indoor track so much that one might think she was training for a marathon.

Catra was completely lost as to how Adora had this much energy every single day. Just watching her was tiring in of itself. Even the first day back in the Fright Zone, not even 24 hours removed from Adora being in a coma, she had worked so hard that Catra had to make her stop for the day, and that only worked because she had reminded Adora that Hordak had ordered her to rest. 

In a way, Catra felt bad for the Rebellion. It was scary, watching Adora constantly break her limits. Every day she grew bigger, stronger, faster. And this was regular Adora, not even She-Ra! 

Not that Catra minded the insane work ethic Adora had. Now that she knew Adora loved her, she felt no shame in sneaking glimpses of Adora while she worked out. As she sliced her way through waves of bots, a soft gold aura rose from her skin and made her hair glow like the sunrise. When Adora’s muscles flexed in just the right way, covered in sweat, Catra absentmindedly licked her lips, though she took great efforts to not let Adora catch her staring. Her hair had regained its luster, once again golden, and Catra had convinced Adora to wear it in a loose ponytail, cutting out the dumb hair poof. 

In the present, Catra lounged on a bench, reading through the latest status reports from the front lines. She only commanded She-Ra at the moment - and what a power that was - but she wanted more. They had always whispered about ruling the Horde together, but those had only been the daydreams of children. 

Now Adora was She-Ra, and Catra answered directly to Lord Hordak. Their dreams were suddenly far more tangible. She was more than willing to overthrow Hordak down the line, but she didn’t know if Adora felt the same way. Adora was too good, too loyal to seize power, even though Catra knew she hungered for it.

And how could she not? Adora was the most powerful person in the world. She had been groomed for leadership ever since the Horde found her. She had spent her life being told how she was the perfect leader, and then she went out and proved her teachers right. She was the reason their squadron had always finished first in every single drill, no matter how hard Kyle tried to sabotage them. And although Catra had forgiven her, Adora’s complaint from their first day back still echoed in her mind: I spent my whole life working to be a captain, but then it gets taken away from me? It isn’t fair.  

Adora liked responsibility. She liked being the one to save the day. Even though Catra was the one wearing the badge now, she was sure that once they were back in the field, Adora would be in charge. And why shouldn’t she? 

She was shaken from her musings when she heard Adora yell. She was attempting to break Scorpia’s bench press record, the overloaded bar shaking as it sat an inch from crushing her chest. Before Catra could spring over and save her girlfriend, Adora again yelled, this time so loud it shook the room. The runestone on her forearm flashed and it looked like her muscles literally grew bigger in that moment. The bar slowly crawled up as her arms extended, and when she locked out, Adora whooped. 

Catra’s mouth hung open as Adora racked the weight. What she just witnessed should have been impossible. Before she could snap her jaw shut and act nonchalant, Adora turned around and caught her. A cocky smirk grew, and she flexed her arms. “Did you see that, Catra?”

She found the ability to clamp her mouth shut, but her mind refused to work. Was Adora aware of the effect she had on Catra? Was she doing this on purpose? “Catra?” She blinked and found Adora standing right in front of her with a concerned look.

“Huh?” Her voice came out embarrassingly quiet.

“You okay?”

She shook her head, jumpstarting her brain. “I’m fine. Was just thinking about stuff until you interrupted me.”

The confident look returned to Adora’s face. “What kind of stuff?”

“Boring intelligence stuff,” Catra flashed Adora the reports.

“Are you sure you weren’t thinking about-”

“ Adora. ” Catra cut her off with a sharp hiss. “This isn’t the place for that.” One of the ground rules they were still figuring out was when displays of affection and flirting were allowed. Adora had no qualms with being completely open about their relationship, whereas Catra was uncomfortable showing any affection unless they were in the safety of their room. 

Adora rubbed her arm sheepishly. “Right, sorry.” 

“I’ll tell you later.”

Then her badge went off. Finally! They were getting their first mission!

Adora grimaced as she wiped her face clean with a towel. “Do you think we have time to go clean up? I don’t want to keep Lord Hordak waiting, but I also don’t want to show up looking,” she gestured down at her sweat soaked workout clothes, “like this.” 

Personally, Catra thought Adora looked amazing.

“If you’re really fast, I don’t see why that would be an issue. I don’t need to clean up.” She had gotten distracted with the reports today. “Race you to our room?”

Adora gave a thumbs up before sprinting off. Catra yelled “Cheater!” before racing along all fours to close the gap. Even as fast as Adora had become, Catra was still faster. The head start quickly vanished, and she cut around Adora to take the lead as they turned into their hallway. But Adora surged back, keeping pace with Catra due to her longer strides. As their room door appeared in front of them, they both leaped, touching it at the same time.

Catra huffed as she caught her breath. Usually, she could coast to a win in a race against Adora, but right then she had to go all out just to tie her! As she glanced over, she saw the runestone glowing faintly. With an over dramatic gasp, she shoved Adora. “You cheater! You used She-Ra!”

“What? No I didn’t,” Adora tried to play it cool, but Catra knew all her tells. “I’m not eight feet tall and wearing armor.”

“Your hair is glowing!” 

“No it’s not!”

“Adora, I can see it glowing!”

“No you can’t!” Before Catra could form a rebuttal, Adora grabbed a change of clothes and ducked into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, they were standing outside the throne room. Taking a deep breath, Catra pushed through the doors. Lord Hordak was alone on his throne, perfectly composed and intimidatingly still. She could see the shift in his eyes as they made their way up towards the throne. Her ears pricked at a soft noise above her, and then barely contained a flinch when a flying demonic creature swooped right by her head, before landing on Hordak’s shoulder.

“Force Captain Catra.” His red eyes turned towards Adora. “She-Ra.” They saluted. “Am I correct in saying that you are fully recovered from the battle of Salineas?”

She stepped forward, “Yes, Lord Hordak. Adora is fully healed, and we are eager to begin our first mission.”

He stroked the flying creature’s head. “Good. Because you are being sent on a diplomatic mission to Dryl, where you will recruit Princess Entrapta to our cause.”

She chanced a look back at Adora, who was similarly befuddled. “Recruit, sir? I was under the impression that the princesses are our enemies.”

“They are, but Entrapta is not a true princess. She does not wield any magic, nor does she rule over her kingdom. Dryl is governed by a ruling council and has stayed neutral in the war. Entrapta is isolated from the rest of Etheria, including the main city of Dryl, in her castle; it will be a simple task for you to convince her.”

“But why do you need us to go? Surely there are more pressing matters that She-Ra could be used for.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Catra braced herself for an angry tirade. Her superiors never appreciated her questioning orders.

But Hordak only grinned slightly. “You are correct; She-Ra could be more useful in many other areas. In the immediate term. But with your victory at Salineas, the war is coming to an end. Every day, the Rebellion loses more ground, even without She-Ra in the field. But Etheria will not be saved in the blink of an eye. It will take years of work to transform this backwards planet into something more orderly.”

“The Horde’s technological capabilities, as grand as they are, have reached their limit. Princess Entrapta has the most brilliant mind of you Etherians, but it is wasted on pet projects and scatter brained research. Under my direction, she would give the Horde the tools to bring about a new age. She is vital to my plans.”

Catra nodded, “I understand sir. Go to Dryl, bring back the princess. Sounds easy enough.”

“I doubt that will be the case,” he smirked, “Entrapta can be...challenging. And that is why I am sending you on this mission. I am confident you will find a way to convince her to leave Dryl.” He leaned back on his throne. “I would advise you to keep a low profile. The route to Dryl is entirely neutral ground, and I will not have the delicate peace with those kingdoms broken. Furthermore, She-Ra’s existence must be kept a secret for as long as possible.” Hordak stared Adora down. “You will not use her unless all other options have been exhausted, though I do not expect her to be necessary on your mission.” 

“Yes sir.”

He gave a bored hand wave. “Dismissed.” They saluted and left the throne room. 

The next few hours were spent gathering supplies for the mission: a few duffel bags, blankets, clothes, plenty of ration bars, a water purification system, and the keys to a skiff loaded with more than enough fuel for the trip. Adora obsessively loaded up the vehicle in a particular order, and as evening turned into night, they shot off out of the Fright Zone.

After their catastrophic first experience with a skiff, Catra pointedly let Adora drive first, laying back next to her as the landscape whizzed by. 

Her first mission. Well, her first official mission. Catra still irked at having to play diplomat, but this would be good experience for the future. And after how insane Salineas had been, it was nice to have a lowkey mission. She was going to see the world - or at least parts of it - in the few days it would take to reach Dryl. And this time, she wasn’t on a rocking boat in the middle of the ocean.

It was just her and Adora. Alone . A sly grin grew as she relaxed in her seat. This was going to be fun .

------------------------------------------------------------

Three pleasurable days later, Crypto Castle appeared on the horizon. They took a cautious approach, keeping the mountains between their skiff and the city of Dryl. The air echoed with mining drills and manufacturing plants as Adora drove them up the small path cut through the rock. 

Catra kept her eyes peeled for any defenses, but there seemed to be none. Sure, there were the outer walls that rose twenty feet in the air, but she could clear the top if push came to shove. Otherwise, the castle was unprotected: no armaments, no soldiers on guard, and as they drew in close, no one in general. The courtyard was eerily silent for the middle of the day.

Adora parked the skiff right in front of the entrance, a heavy metal door blocking their way in. “Does this feel...a little too easy? We’re just going to stroll in and talk to the princess?”

Catra hopped off the vehicle, sniffing the air. “I think so. I can’t smell anyone out here. Hordak said Entrapta was isolated from the rest of the world, but I didn’t think he meant it literally.” Three loud bangs echoed around her and she started. “What are you doing?” 

Adora’s hand hovered inches from a fourth knock on the door. “Knocking? We can’t just barge in if we are trying to convince her to join the Horde. You know, manners?”

“I have manners, Adora. Besides, how is Entrapta going to hear you? This place is huge for one person!” High above them, a giant spire stretched high into the sky, and the peaks of two smaller towers could just barely be seen over the walls of the castle. 

“We should at least give her a chance before we kick down her door.”

Catra rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to ‘kick down her door.’ I was going to have you use She-Ra to lift the door open.”

“Catra!” Adora placed her hands on her hips. “You heard Lord Hordak. I’m not supposed to use She-Ra.”

“What? Just do that little trick you did with the barbell. It doesn’t count if you don’t transform into She-Ra.”

“Yes it does!” Adora huffed, “I’m still using She-Ra’s magic to become stronger.”

Catra whirled on her in an instant. “Aha! So you did cheat when we raced!”

“What? No- you just- Catra!” Adora sputtered, “This isn’t the - AH!” The metal door slammed open, startling them out of their bickering. A humanoid shadow stood in the overhang, silently waiting.

“Err...hi?” Catra asked after several seconds of silence. “We’re here to see Princess Entrapta.”

The shadow remained still. 

“Is she here right now? 

The shadow did not respond. 

“C’mon, it’s a simple question! Is Princess Entrapta here? Yes or no?” She was about to show this jerk her claws when it turned around, waved one hand robotically at them, and walked into the castle.

Catra exhaled a sharp breath through her nose. “I guess that’s a ‘yes’ then.” Adora had an amused look on her face. “What?”

“You’re cute when you get flustered.” Catra’s initial reaction was to scowl at Adora, fervently deny it, and act like the compliment didn’t go straight to her heart. That was how she survived this long: show no weakness. 

But she had been trying to unlearn that behavior over the last ten days. Acting cold and indifferent did not come naturally to her, and it was draining to put on the mask. It had been painful to deny herself the few slivers of happiness in her life. In their room, where Catra allowed herself to be completely soft and open, Adora peppered her with compliments and flirting and praise. They felt good , and she was beginning to realize she deserved to feel good.

So Catra bit back her sharp retort, allowed a shy grin to grow, and took Adora’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go meet this princess.” And they walked through the overhang and into Crypto Castle. 

They followed the mysterious guide through a maze of corridors. They twisted and turned and walked up and down flights of stairs. The inside was uniform, with no signs or maps to guide the way. After thirty minutes of walking, Catra’s teeth began to grind together as she clenched her jaw in frustration. Adora, observant as always, noticed and gently squeezed her hand before rubbing her thumb along Catra’s fur. 

If anything good could have come out of their hike through the castle, it was being able to hold hands with Adora for so long. Adora’s hand enveloped her own, so warm and rough as she traced patterns along the back of Catra’s hand. Catra kept her senses hyperaware, ready to swiftly let go at the first sign of being discovered, but their guide never turned around, only marching in perfect stride straight ahead. 

At long last, the guide stopped in front of an unassuming metal door, identical to a hundred they already passed. As it shifted its head towards them, Catra slid her hand out of Adora’s grasp. Then she took a close look at the figure.

It was a robot, unlike any she had ever seen before. Its mouth was fixed in a gruesome smile of mismatched teeth. The body was humanoid, yet it moved so rigidly that it was uncanny. It inserted a metal finger into a socket in the door, and she could hear the faint whirring of gears. The door slid open, and the robot stood to the side, giving a creepy bow. 

They stepped inside to a room cluttered with machinery, boxes, glowing crystals, and tools. While there was a clear path to the center of the room, which was brightly illuminated by the blue sparks of a blow torch, the rest was a disjointed mess. 

When they reached the inner ring, they found a woman Catra hoped was Princess Entrapta, seeing as she was the first person they had seen within ten miles of the castle.

Her back was turned, hunching over a workbench as a blow torch roared. Giant strands of purple hair moved with a mind of their own, grabbing tools and pieces of machinery. Catra held an arm across Adora’s chest, and they stopped a good distance away. 

Entrapta only took a few minutes to finish her work, and a deafening silence filled the room as she turned off the tools. Clapping her hands, she turned around and noticed them.

“Oh hello! Welcome to Crypto Castle, even though most people call it Castle Dryl. It’s a common misconception, based on the unorthodox government of Dryl.” The woman bounced with energy as she grabbed a tangle of wires, several glowing discs, and a pair of pliers all with her hair. “Anyway,” she perked up for a moment as the mountain of supplies crashed onto the work table, “tell Hordak that while I appreciate his offer, my answer is still no. Sorry you had to drive all this way for nothing, but my research is far too important.” While Catra and Adora stood frozen, Entrapta darted past them to grab a crystal off the ground. She leaped over to a massive computer system and plugged the crystal in, screens suddenly alight with foreign symbols.

Catra turned to track the princess, finding Adora with a bewildered look on her face. “Uh, what did you just say?”

Entrapta’s fingers danced along the keyboard. “I said to tell Hordak my answer is still no. It’s sweet of him, but after three years, he should really get the hint.”

“Again, what ?”

Entrapta sighed and spun around in her chair, hair propelling her to right in front of Catra. In a slow, condescending tone, she said, “Tell Hordak I said no.” Then she spun back to the computer and continued working.

Adora shook herself out of her stupor. “How did you know we were from the Horde?” Catra had left her badge on the skiff, and none of their clothing had the Horde symbol on it.

“Oh that’s easy. The only visitors I get that aren’t the monthly supply runs from the city of Dryl are Horde messengers. And you clearly aren’t from Dryl, seeing as you came all the way to my lab.”

Adora stepped forward. “Look, Princess Entrapta, we really need you to come back to the Fright Zone with us.”

“I can’t! I am so close to deciphering the First Ones’ language. It will be the greatest scientific achievement in history!” She thrust her hands at the screens. “With this knowledge, I will be able to truly understand First Ones tech, and then I can unlock all of their secrets!”

Adora cocked her head to the side as she looked up at the screens. “What’s a First One? Also, what are you talking about? It’s already translated.” Catra frowned. She had no idea what Adora was talking about; it looked like an incomprehensible jumble of lines and dots.

“The First Ones were the forerunners of Etheria, a civilization so advanced that even the greatest achievements of our world seem primitive in comparison. They went extinct roughly one thousand years ago, according to the most accurate fossils on recor...” Then, realizing the second half of Adora’s question, one of Entrapta’s hair tendrils shot out, grabbing Adora and pulling her right next to the princess. “You can read First Ones writing?” She whispered, uncomfortably close to Adora’s face.

Adora leaned away. “Yes?”

Entrapta squealed and ripped her protective glasses off, then zoomed in on one of the screens. “What does this one say?”

Adora squinted and pursed her lips. “It says weather...log? Oh! It says weather report.”

Entrapta pulled up a different screen and typed in a few lines of code. “Fascinating. What about this one?” The screen was replaced with a new image.

“Crystal..of...Arxia?” 

Entrapta hummed at the answer, jotting down more code. A hair tendril swiped a cylindrical container from a nearby table, a carving running along its length. “And this one?” She thrust it into Adora’s face.

“Danger: highly corrosive.” Adora took a large step back.

Entrapta clapped her hands and grabbed a plate of sheet metal. “The perfect control variable to prove that you are actually able to read the First Ones’ language! There’s no substitute for hard data!”

They gave the princess a wide berth as she laid the sheet metal on the ground. She grunted as her hair strained with the lid, before it violently spun off and crashed into a stack of multi-colored disks. Entrapta was unbothered as a cascade of clinking echoed in the room, entirely focused on the container. Slowly, she tipped it over, lightly tapping the bottom of it. A viscous, bright yellow liquid oozed out and dripped onto the metal.

The drops congealed into a six inch wide sphere, and the metal began to faintly hissed. The orb quickly began to sink through the metal. Entrapta whipped out a small device, clicking a red button. “Horde Visitors Log, Day 1. Experimenting with First Ones’ material hypothesized to be highly corrosive. Testing substance on four-by-four piece of Dryl sheet metal.”

A sharp hiss cracked through the air as the yellow orb disappeared from view. Entrapta grabbed her goggles with her hair, sliding them back on before moving to hover over the new hole in the metal. Her face drifted an inch from touching the surface, then she laughed and shot back into a sitting position.

“Experiment result: the substance is indeed highly corrosive! So corrosive it...ate through the floor of my lab, and the floor below me, and perhaps the floor below that.” She popped the cap off a marker - where the hell did that come from? - and squiggled a sequence of characters on the container, before her hair screwed the lid back on. “Research into Experiment 8009J will need to be placed on hold until I can acquire tools capable of testing the substance without immediately being destroyed by its acidic nature!”

Entrapta jumped back over to her computer, creating a new file and placing the (hopefully secure) container off to the side. Then, remembering that she had company, she popped back up. 

“So, you actually can read First Ones writing! Fascinating.” She turned the recorder back on. “It appears the tall blonde one is capable of translating the First Ones’ language. I will be keeping her as a reference until their language is fully deciphered, which should only take a few months.” 

Adora remained silent, a calm look on her face.

Catra growled, and her claws instinctively shot out. How dare this princess assume she could steal Adora from her? “Listen up princess. I don’t know what you are rambling about, but Adora isn’t staying here. She’s a person, not a tool. You aren’t taking her.”

Entrapta shot in front of Catra. “But you can’t!” She pleaded. “Adora is the only person in the world who can actually read the language. I need her to complete my work!”

Catra snatched Entrapta’s arm in a vice grip, claws digging into her sleeve. She growled, “I told you-”

“Catra.” Adora laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok. Please, let her go.” She begrudgingly let go of Entrapta’s arm, who pulled back with her eyes downcast. 

Adora stepped forward, palms upward as she gently spoke to Entrapta. “I can’t stay with you. I have a responsibility to the Horde, to the world.” Entrapta’s face fell even more. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you with your research. If you come to the Fright Zone, I could help you continue your work, and we both get what we want.”

Entrapta delicately lifted her eyes to meet Adora’s. “But all of my stuff is here. My equipment, my notes, my artifacts, my friends...my home. This is where I belong. Can you please stay? Just for a little while?”

“I’m sorry, but the only way I can help you is if you come back with us.”

Entrapta twiddled her thumbs and slumped her shoulders. “That...is a logical compromise. Although I would prefer to work in the comfort of my home, if this is the only way, then,” she let out a heavy sigh, “I’ll go with you.” Her words were muted, as she cautiously glanced at Catra. “Just give me a day to pack everything I need, and we can go.”

Catra opened her mouth, but Adora stepped in first. “That sounds good, Entrapta. We can help you, if you want.” She gave a soft smile. “And, thank you, for coming.”

Entrapta perked back up, “Oh! That won’t be necessary!” She let out an eye piercing whistle. “I have an army of bots specifically for manual labor. They’ll get the job done in no time.”

Grabbing a small, handheld device off her giant computer station, Entrapta handed it to Adora, pointedly not looking at Catra. “But don’t worry! While you’re waiting, you can go ahead and get started on translating. This is only a small sample of the First Ones’ language, but it should be enough to last you a few days.” And with that, she scurried off to direct her army of robots.

Once they were alone, Adora crossed her arms and gave Catra a look. She shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

“You should apologize to Entrapta.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything.”

“Catra,” Adora sighed, “you scared her. You’re bigger and stronger than her, and you got right in her face.”

“So? She was doing that to us, but you don’t seem mad at her.”

“That was different. Entrapta was just excited.”

The hair on the back of Catra’s neck began to rise. “How come you’re making excuses for her and blaming me ?”

Adora stopped for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not blaming anybody. Can you please just tell me why you got angry at Entrapta?”

“Because she said she was going to keep you! Like you didn’t have a say! Like you were just an object that existed solely for her amusement! And you were sitting there and letting it happen!” She blinked back the film of tears that had crept into her eyes.

Adora softly took her hands in her own. “Catra, you didn’t really think I would stay here, did you? I was just waiting for Entrapta to slow down so I could tell her no. I could never leave the Horde. I could never leave you , even for just a few months.” 

“I,” she stuttered, “I know you wouldn’t do that. But I just got so angry , the way she was talking about you. Like she was in control of you. She said she needed you, but she didn’t know you existed until half an hour ago!” Her ears flattened against her scalp, “She doesn’t care about you! She just wants to use you!”

Adora soothingly ran her thumbs along the back of Catra’s hands. “Hey, no one is going to use me.”

But she was undeterred, her heart spilling out to Adora. “And then when Entrapta said I couldn’t bring you back with me, I just snapped.” Her claws dug into her palms. “She acted like she was going to take you away from me, and I am never going to let that happen .”

Adora pulled her into a tight hug, her body relaxing slightly as warmth surrounded her. Adora softly cradled Catra’s head against her chest. “Oh, Catra. I am never going to leave you. I don’t care what my orders are, what people say about us, what they try to do to me; if it's you versus the world, I will always choose you.”

Catra gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. She focused on her claws cutting into the skin of her palms. She was not going to cry. “Hey Adora,” she rasped after a few minutes, “can we get out of here? I need some air.” Adora gently untangled them, smiling so softly at her. Catra allowed herself to be guided out of the lab and through the castle, as she tried to focus only on Adora’s scent.

It only took a few minutes for them to stumble out into the courtyard, the ambient warmth and light calming her mind slightly. Adora laid down their blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the skiff. She patted the spot next to her, but Catra collapsed on top of her. Adora giggled as she rearranged Catra so that she was curled up against Adora’s chest.

Catra buried her face in Adora’s shirt, her scent washing away the oppressive smell of Crypto Castle. Adora was here; she had stayed with Catra. Adora had said she would never leave her. Catra tightened her grip.

Adora loves me. Adora loves me. Adora loves me.

------------------------------------------------------------

Hordak pinched the bridge of his nose as the last of the Force Captains exited the war council room. The war had stagnated for so long that he had forgotten how mind numbingly dull these meetings were. But with the occupation of Salineas complete, there was much to be done: troops to reposition, supply lines to establish, and the like.

Shadow Weaver had dominated the proceedings, and he had let her scurry about and pull her strings. Once, he would have revelled in the details, taking charge and obsessing over every minute factor. But now, he was tired, and so he let his ambitious underling play her little games.

He let out a low chuckle in the empty room. He, Hordak, who once served at the right hand of the Emperor of the Universe, Conqueror of a Thousand Worlds, was tired . What a fall from grace. 

Hordak’s back cracked as he stiffly rose from his seat. The short walk to his sanctum seemed to last hours, shoulders beginning to slump from the weight of his exoskeleton. Where had he gone wrong? How had he allowed a war of his own making to last for over twenty years? Under Horde Prime, the longest siege he had commanded was a mere year. Perhaps it had been a wise decision to cast him out before he embarrassed his brother.

He could feel the cold, clawed hand wrap around his neck: defective . The ports on his back flinched at the corrosion seeping into them. Etheria was a primitive planet, so primitive that it lacked the basic resources to maintain his body or to create a new one. It had taken nearly every bit of Horde technology from his one wrecked ship to build the laboratory that just barely kept him alive.

Hordak had reached a dead end earlier today. He could not build the technology to free himself of this prison of a body, nor could he build a portal to return to Horde Prime and beg for his mercy. He was a failure , fated to suffer for the rest of his days on this hellish planet, and even the notion of conquering Etheria - now that She-Ra had entered the fold - held little appeal to him now. He despised these little people, caught up in their little world. Shadow Weaver, Catra, She-Ra, he did not care who ruled Etheria in his place.

He stopped in front of his throne, the Horde symbol burning into his eyes. Princess Entrapta was a last ditch effort, one that he had little hope for. For years, he had all but pleaded with her to join the Horde, to use her genius to help him be whole again, one way or another. But she rebuked him, too obsessed with studying an extinct civilization that Prime had wiped out long ago.

Hordak bowed his head at the throne, ready to go to sleep. Yes, he was so far gone that the human vice of sleep appealed to him, even though he did not need to. Under Prime, clones ‘slept’ by connecting to the hivemind, their minds still serving their lord until it was time to rejoin their bodies. 

But he did not have such luxuries. Instead, Hordak had created a concoction that, when injected, simulated the experience of sleep, lowering his brain activity to alarmingly low levels. It was not a pleasant experience, but it was far better than suffering through every waking moment of his wretched existence. And when he would wake up, Hordak expected Catra to have returned with news of Entrapta’s rejection.

He wondered if it would be a bad thing if he did not wake up this time.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Then, the doors to the throne room burst open, and a spark of hope lit a fire in his cold heart.

A woman shot inside, walking on her purple hair, a gleeful smile on her face. Behind her, Hordak could see Catra and She-Ra valiantly trying to catch up. The newcomer scurried up the steps before his throne, before stopping mere feet away from him. She gave a cheerful wave. “Hi Hordak!”

Only one person on Etheria would be bold enough to address him this way. His breath caught as he stared at Princess Entrapta.

She was here . In his darkest hour.

Catra reached the top of the steps, She-Ra right on her heels, stopping at a more professional distance and saluting. “Lord Hordak, we’ve returned with Princess Entrapta as you can see. I’m sorry for her disrespectful behavior; she’s still learning. I promise you: It won’t happen again.”

Hordak remained silent, his mind still reeling with his newfound hope. He stood up straighter, exoskeleton no longer dragging him down. He could taste amniotic fluid. He could see the infinite realm of Horde Prime’s throne room, hear the chants of his brothers. He remembered his home.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” Catra tensed at his cold silence, “but Entrapta needed to know where her new lab is. She is more than ready,” she glanced at the princess, who still stood too close to Hordak, “to begin working for you.”

Finding his tongue, Hordak squared his shoulders and pulled on the mask of the Lord of the Horde. “Once again Catra, you have succeeded where all others have failed.”

His captain’s face glowed in the praise as she relaxed. “Thank you, Lord Hordak.” She-Ra had a matching expression.

“Entrapta’s transgression is...forgiven. The two of you,” he gestured at Catra and She-Ra, “are dismissed. I will oversee her assimilation into the Horde.” They saluted and exited the throne room.

Now he was alone with Entrapta. The one Etherian mind that held a candle to his own. One of the few people he held a genuine respect for. The one who might save him from a miserable life.

“I,” he stopped, as he had absolutely no idea what to say. 

He first offered Entrapta a position by his side three years ago, when he discovered one of her written papers in a scientific journal. Despite being from a primitive planet, the woman had an exceptional grasp of theoretical and fourth dimensional physics. Inferior to his own, of course, but he had studied under the smartest man the universe had ever seen. They had exchanged correspondence, primarily discussing the unique nature of Etheria; she was obsessed with First Ones’ technology and how it interacted with the planet, he with how a planet with no sun could survive in an empty dimension. He dropped little hints of his knowledge of the wider universe, in the hopes that she would be interested enough to join him to learn more.

But she had immediately rejected him, citing her newest project: deciphering the First Ones’ language. Hordak had immediately recognized the language; all servants of Horde Prime learned of his noble conquest over the Eternian Empire. It was a fool's errand, and he had told Entrapta as much. But she was stubborn, arguing that an understanding of the language would allow her to better utilize First Ones’ technology in her experiments.

At the time, Hordak had laughed at such a prospect. Eternian technology was the equivalent of the Horde’s armies being outfitted with sticks and stones instead of lasers and tanks. It was centuries behind the technology aboard his ship, which he had incorrectly assumed to be enough to power a portal when the time came. 

But as the years went on, and the war continued to stagnate, and his portal continued to fail, he had become more desperate. He exhausted every resource at his disposal in the homes of finding alternative solutions to the portal, but they all failed. Eternian technology had its flaws, but it was potentially powerful enough to build a crude portal, and Entrapta was a genius at converting Eternian technology into working machines.

And now Entrapta was here.

“I...welcome you to-” he started, before realizing she was no longer standing in front of him. Hordak whirled around to find her poking at the door to his sanctum. He marched over, standing right behind her.

“Hey, can you move to the side? You’re blocking my light.” She pulled a screwdriver out of a pocket with her hair, then ran it along the surface of the door. “How do you open this? Is it biometrics or pressure plating?” She huffed and her hair threw the screwdriver off to the side, making a loud clang. “I can’t find the keyhole anywhere .”

Hordak stepped around her, putting an arm between the door and the princess. “This is the entrance to my sanctum, which is off limits to everyone, including you. Why are you trying to invade my personal quarters?”

“Oh I wasn’t invading anything! ‘Invade’,” her hair made air quotes at the word, “implies some level of hostility between two parties. We’re friends, so there can’t be hostility between us! Also I couldn’t have invaded your sanctum because I haven’t entered it yet.”

He raised a finger at her flippant tone. “You-” Then he let out a long sigh. “We are not friends.”

Entrapta quirked her head to the side, “We aren’t? But we’ve known each other to some degree for three years. That’s longer than I’ve known anyone else!” She gave a smile that was too cheerful. “I’ve talked with you more than I’ve talked with anyone else in my life. How can we not be friends?”

He pinched his brow, a headache beginning to form. “This conversation is irrelevant,” he growled, “you are not to step foot in my sanctum. Do you understand?”

“Fine,” she let out an exaggerated sigh, “no going into Hordak’s super secret, probably super cool sanctum. Oh!” Entrapta’s hair mimed raising a hand to ask a question, “Where am I going to be working? I know Catra said I was ready to start now, but I need to unpack all of my stuff first.”

Hordak walked to the opposite side of the throne room, stopping in front of a door identical to his sanctum’s. “Given the highly sensitive nature of your work, I found it prudent for your laboratory to be located adjacent to my throne room, so that none may disturb you.” This door did not have a lock like his sanctum, and it smoothly whirred open. Entrapta gasped and darted past him, making him stumble as she crashed into his leg.

The laboratory, seldom used, would have been the crown jewel of any research facility on Etheria. Entrapta squealed as she ran around the room, inspecting the pristine equipment and sleek metal tables. Hordak allowed himself a small smile.

“All of this is for me ?” Entrapta glanced back at him, and he was just barely able to wipe the smile off his face.

“Of course. A mind as brilliant as yours deserves only the best.” Hordak immediately winced as Entrapta’s smile somehow grew even wider, and she lifted herself up until their eyes were level.

“You really mean that?” 

He shifted uncomfortably. “It is an objective fact. You are unrivaled in your genius and expertise with First Ones tech.”

With a soft smile, she said, “Thanks, I think you’re really smart too.”

Whatever response he prepared caught itself in his throat. 

He hated the way his chest twinged at her compliment. He was Hordak, Conqueror of a Thousand Worlds. He did not get flustered over a few kind words. He did not seek the approval of beings such as her. 

Clearing his throat, Hordak attempted to power through the uncomfortable silence that filled the room. “Yes, with our combined intellects, we will accomplish many great things.”

“We’re working together?” Entrapta squealed, “I’ve never had a lab partner before! Oh this is going to be so much fun!”

“We are not-” Hordak’s argument died, as he found himself unwilling to crush her jubilant mood. He sighed, praying that when he returned to Horde Prime, he would not be forced to relive these next few moments. “I suppose ‘lab partners’ is an accurate description of our relationship.” Again, he winced; why was he saying these things? Our relationship?

“Great!” Entrapta clapped her hands together, not noticing his slip. “So what are we going to build? For as much as you pestered me, it had better be something big .”

Hordak smirked and walked over to the central computer system, turning it on. The room whirred to life as green lights flickered on. The massive screens displayed a complex assortment of models and equations.

“What do you know about portals?”

Chapter Text

The night sky lit up in flashes of green, blue, and purple. The unending avalanche of cannon fire ripped through the air, drowning out the screams of the dying. Glimmer took careful aim and fired, shearing through a Horde tank’s fuel cell. The machine ground to a halt, and its crew began to evacuate, screaming at the soldiers around them to run away. Only a few were lucky enough to do so before the tank exploded, and it set off a chain reaction that cut a swath through the Horde’s front line. The small victory was meaningless, as the gap was quickly filled by the endless sea of soldiers and tanks. The screams grew louder.

To her right, another row of tanks was launched into the air, as a tornado blew her hair into her eyes. Glimmer cursed and teleported behind the smoldering carcass of a transport, ripping off part of her sleeve to make a crude ponytail. Spinnerella was the only reason the Rebellion hadn’t lost this battle yet, but fighting alongside her was aggravating . Her winds were too powerful; while they had pushed back the Horde’s front line, they also blew hair, ash, dirt, and smoke right into Glimmer’s face.

To her left, the sky constantly flickered with the light cyan of Netossa’s attacks. Her dual whips arced through the air in blinding contrast to the dark sky, cutting down cannon blasts and foot soldiers. She was entirely unfazed as a platoon of tanks focused on her, casting a wide net that clogged their barrels. The roar of cannon fire around her petered out, ending in a soft whine before the ground shook and a massive fireball illuminated the sky. From her position, Glimmer had a perfect view of the Horde’s forces, stretching far down the slope of the valley, so far that the temporary light did not reach their back lines.

The three princesses were defending Fort Riverstride , which controlled the route between Bright Moon and Plumeria, the Rebellion’s primary food supplier. The Horde had attempted sieges in the past, but Plumeria - while technically neutral, in that they refused to fight for either side - always warned Bright Moon, giving Queen Angella time to deploy the troops necessary to hold the location.

But this time, there had been no warning. A force larger than any before it had somehow crept up on the fortress, catching them off guard. Maybe Plumeria had been conquered. Maybe they had betrayed the Rebellion. It didn’t matter; if Glimmer lost this outpost, lost Plumeria, there was no way the Rebellio n could survive for more than a few months.

And despite the princesses’ best efforts, they were certainly losing.

A stitch grew in her side as she fired indiscriminately at the army below her. For every man that fell to her magic or Netossa’s whips, another took his place. For every tank Spinnerella hurled into the sky before crashing back down, another rolled forward. The war machine was relentless, and even three princesses could only do so much.

Glimmer’s hearing dimmed until only her heartbeat remained. It started off slow and quiet, but quickly became a pounding roar as time blurred. She teleported and fired and barely dodged and killed . So much that the darkness was replaced by the angry orange-red of an inferno, as more and more tanks exploded, and more and more men died. 

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

The next time she planted her feet, the loose ground gave out and she fell on her face. Wincing, she looked up to find Netossa offering an armored, silver hand. Taking a sharp breath, Glimmer accepted her help and stumbled back to her feet. The older woman opened her mouth, but all Glimmer could hear was her heart thumping in her chest. When Netossa looked at her as if expecting an answer, she gave a confused shrug.

Glimmer took a step forward, ready to keep fighting, but Netossa grabbed her arm. She shot an annoyed look, but Netossa didn’t budge. Again, she tried to talk to Glimmer, but nothing came through. She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I can’t hear you!” She tapped her ears and gestured angrily at the tanks below them.

A sharp wind cut through, cooling Glimmer off as rivulets of sweat blew off her skin. Spinnerella gracefully descended next to the pair, then turned toward her wife. She couldn’t hear the wind princess either, as the two had a short conversation. Then, Netossa threw a massive net, blocking off the advancing Horde forces for a moment, and Spinnerella took Glimmer’s arm and flew them up the slope, towards the fortress.

They stopped at the base of the towering walls, which were riddled with holes from cannon fire. The base’s garrison had been in total disarray when the princesses had arrived, but the three of them should have bought enough time for their soldiers to regroup and launch a counterattack. They held the high ground, and with three princesses on their side, the Rebellion might just barely win this siege. They had to.

Glimmer watched as Netossa’s barrier strained from the endless barrage of cannon fire; the woman in question skidding to a halt next to her. “Glimmer....Glimmer!” Spinnerella’s voice slowly cut through the din, and she dumbly glanced at the woman. “Glimmer, we need to leave! Now!” 

She shook her head. Leave? Why the hell would they leave ? “What did you say?!” Her voice came out raw from how much smoke she had accidentally inhaled. Her heart continued to crash against her chest, battle nerves still running high.

“The last of the troops have evacuated the fort, so we don’t need to stay here any longer.”

“Evacuate? Why the hell are they evacuating?” Her throat burned as she grew louder. “We’ve given them plenty of time to mount a counterattack. It doesn’t even have to be a big one; the defense turrets alone could help us hold back the Horde!”

Netossa and Spinnerella exchanged another glance. “Most of the defenses were damaged in the Horde’s initial attack,” Netossa gritted out, as she tried to keep the barrier together, “and too many of the troops are either injured or dead. There’s no help coming.” She dropped to one knee as the barrier began to deform. “Glimmer, teleport us out of here!”

“But we’ve made so much progress! The three of us can stop the Horde. We have to!” Glimmer materialized her staff, ready to go back into the fray.

“Three of us versus thousands of them?” Spinnerella sighed. “There is no way we’d all survive. We have done enough, buying time for the survivors to evacuate and flee to the safety of Bright Moon.” She helped Netossa to her feet. “Take heart in that; there will be plenty of more battles with the Horde.” She extended a hand to Glimmer. “Now, please get us out of here.”

“No.” Her knuckles turned white. “Plumeria is too important to lose.”

“Cut it out!” 

Glimmer flinched as Netossa yelled at her. 

“This battle is lost, and you know it. You are not going to get me or my wife killed because of your insane hero complex!”

“Then go!” Glimmer fired back. “Spinnerella can fly you two to safety. I’m not giving up yet.”

Glimmer turned and began to run down the slope towards the advancing Horde army. “Glimmer, stop!” Spinnerella shouted. She faintly heard the crackle of one of Netossa’s nets and felt the air around her drop in temperature. Focusing on an outcrop between her and the Horde, Glimmer teleported, the cold strands of the net tickling the back of her neck as she vanished into thin air.

She rematerialized fifty feet above the ground, and Netossa’s barrier collapsed; the Horde spilling through and charging up the slope. They were a bit too far out of range to shoot at her. Maybe a minute away at most, and Glimmer needed every second for the trick she had up her sleeve. 

Concentrating, she slowly drew an intricate rune, muscles trembling as she held the magic together. She’d practiced this spell many times since learning of it, but those tests had been very small scale, given the nature of the magic. If it weren’t for the fact that the slightest mistake might end up killing her, Glimmer would have been excited to see the spell in action.

The amethyst sigil burned in the night sky, drawing the full attention of the Horde. The air quickly turned sickly green as the army unleashed every bit of its firepower on the princess. As the first few shots crashed against the rock beneath her feet, Glimmer punched through the rune, casting the spell. Then she smoothly teleported to the side, away from the maelstrom. 

It hung above the battlefield, glowing like a miniature sun. Harsh purple light pushed back the darkness, fully illuminating the valley. The air began to tremble with magic, and Glimmer felt the last few bits of energy in her body get sucked into the rune. The grass around her feet wilted and died. The air grew uncomfortably frigid. Lightning struck despite the skies being clear.

Then the rune shrank, pulsing brighter and brighter as it collapsed in on itself. Soon, it was only a searing pinprick in the sky, before vanishing entirely. Complete silence fell over the battlefield, the Horde staring up at the sky in shock. When nothing happened after a few seconds, they let out a roar and charged again.

Glimmer smirked and crossed her arms. 

High above the battlefield, a small point of light flashed, milliseconds before a sickening crack shook the earth, and the world exploded into a conflagration of hellfire. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Glimmer groaned as her fists clenched into the loose dirt. The journal hadn’t been lying; that spell was extremely destructive. The concussive force of the explosion had thrown her into the ground hard enough to make a trench, and judging from the sharp pain every time she took a breath, had cracked her ribs as well. Note to self: next time, teleport away from the giant magic explosion. 

She blinked as the world slowly came back into focus. First, Glimmer noticed her breastplate; the orchid paint was now stained a harsh black that flickered with faint purple light, sharp cracks running along the metal. As she regained control of her limbs, she found the rest of her armor to be similarly discolored and broken. This was encouraging; if the spell was powerful enough to damage her armor as far away as she had been, it would have annihilated much of the Horde’s forces.

Glimmer was captivated by the way the light danced along her armor. Then she looked up and found its source.

She was laying in a patch of dirt ten feet wide. Other than the shallow trench she had made, it was a perfectly normal patch of dirt. Surrounding the perimeter, however, were ghoulish flames that rose above her head, shimmering with purple light. They danced and crackled viscously, yet made no move to engulf her. When Glimmer stumbled to her feet, they retreated.

As her senses fully returned, Glimmer realized that the world was eerily silent, with the exception of the flames around her. No screaming, no roaring of cannons, no explosions. Just the sharp hiss of fire.

She took a few tentative steps forward, and again the inferno parted for her. Glimmer began making her way up the slope, towards where she had left Spinnerella and Netossa behind. She was bone-tired, not even a drop of magic left. She couldn’t finish this fight, but they could for her. Netossa was afraid of the Horde army? She better not be after Glimmer had just wiped out over half of it on her own! 

She made her path up the valley, weaving around the charred corpses of soldiers and the melted ruins of tanks. Once, Glimmer would have wept at the scene, even if they were the enemy, and been haunted by the blood on her hands. But now, a detached part of her brain merely noted the number of casualties and threw it on the pile. She felt pity for these people, but they made their choice. She made hers.

“Glimmer!”

She was shaken from her thoughts when Netossa yelled above her, then a tunnel of wind pushed back the flames. As the two wives descended to the ground, Netossa threw a net that sealed them off from the fire.

They looked much better than Glimmer felt. Their armor was intact and still its original color. Their breath didn’t hitch, and while they were obviously tired, they weren’t drained like she was. 

Glimmer gave a small wave, “Hey guys!”

“What,” Spinnerella stumbled as the two touched the ground, Netossa moving to support her, “What was that?” Her eyes were comically wide and her voice tinged with shock.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Pretty cool right? It’s a new trick I’ve-”

“‘Pretty cool?’” Netossa was similarly shaken. “Glimmer, that was the most terrifying thing I have ever seen! I thought the world was ending!”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Glimmer sheepishly rubbed her head. “I’ve practiced the spell before, but it was always on a much smaller scale. I might have gone a little over the top.” She frowned as she saw the black stains on her hand; hopefully her hair wasn’t too damaged by all of the ash, soot, and smoke. “But don’t worry! The flames will die out pretty soon.”

“Don’t worry!?” Spinnerella shivered. “Look around you! How can you not feel how wrong this is?”

“I see...fire. So what?”

Netossa butted in. “Exactly! We’re standing in the middle of a firestorm and it is freezing ! Whatever you did, it isn’t right.”

“I did what I had to do to stop the Horde. Can you two clean up the rest of their army?” Glimmer stretched out a long yawn. “I softened them up for you, and I am exhausted .”

“No, we cannot ‘clean up the rest of their army!’ We’ve been fighting for hours, and Spinny used up most of her remaining strength to find you!” Spinnerella gave a tired, apologetic smile. “Let’s get out of here and regroup with the others. We need sleep.”

Glimmer scowled. “We need to stop the Horde from taking Fort Riverstride and cutting off Bright Moon from Plumeria.”

“ You can’t fight.” Netossa jabbed her finger at her. “Spinny can’t fight. The soldiers can’t fight. I’d be all alone, and I’m extremely tired. I’m not going on your little suicide mission.” Then, before Glimmer could get another word in, she lashed out, binding Glimmer’s hands in one of her nets.

“Hey!” Glimmer gasped as she struggled fruitlessly with her bindings. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“I’m dragging you back to Bright Moon. Alive.” Netossa’s glare left no room for disagreement. “Before you do something reckless.”

Glimmer let out a feral growl. Before she could say anything in the heat of the moment, Spinnerella stepped in between them. “What Netossa is trying to say,” she sent a sharp look at her wife, “is that we are worried about you. You’re hungry, sleep deprived, injured, and drained of magic. Most of all, you are under immense stress.” Her eyes were infuriatingly kind. “We all need to rest and heal. We are only helping the Horde by bickering with each other.”

“But-”

Spinnerella held her hand out, palm up. “Do you think that if I could continue to fight, I would? What about Netossa? Our soldiers? Do we not care for the Rebellion like you do?”

“Of course you would!”

“But we cannot, because we are tired and hurt. As are you.” She softly gripped Glimmer’s pauldrons. “You did your best, but sometimes, no matter how hard we try, it isn’t enough.”

Your best isn’t enough. Your best isn’t enough. Your best isn’t enough.

Glimmer clenched her fists and swallowed the bile in her throat. “Fine. Let’s go.” She had half a mind to test Netossa’s restraints, and if she had even a drop of magic, she would have. But seeing as she had no say in the matter, she might as well keep her dignity and not make Netossa literally drag her to Bright Moon.

Spinnerella locked her arms with Glimmer and Netossa, and they swiftly rose into the air. As Glimmer saw the entirety of the battlefield, her heart burned. The valley was decimated, a massive purple scar where there had once been lush green. The Horde’s remaining forces - those lucky enough to be far, far back - were pitiful in number, but the captains were beginning to rally them back together. And there was no one left to stop them.

Her eyes locked on the smoldering fortress as it slowly shrank in the distance. The Horde was going to seize control of this territory, cutting off Bright Moon’s supply lines. If an alliance with the Kingdom of Snows could not be forged, her people were going to starve until the Horde conquered them. All because she had been weak .

As the valley disappeared from view, Glimmer made an oath that she would never be weak again.

They touched down in front of the transports carrying the remnants of the garrison. Glimmer rubbed her wrists as the restraints dissolved, warmth slowly returning. A woman stepped out of the lead vehicle to greet the princesses, but flinched back when she saw Glimmer’s appearance. She opened her mouth, but Glimmer cut her off. “Which transport has the most room?” She snapped.

The woman swallowed, eyes darting toward the other two princesses, but Spinnerella was nearly dead on her feet after flying them this far, with Netossa supporting her. She shuffled her feet, eyes not meeting Glimmer’s. “The fourth one back, ma’am.”

“Good. Once we’re on it, continue your course to Bright Moon.” Before the woman - who Glimmer didn’t care to learn the ranking of - could respond, Glimmer stomped past her and made her way for the transport. She reached out, ready to throw it open, then paused.

Glimmer was going to be in extremely close quarters with these people for the next few days. They were likely traumatized, asleep, injured, or vulnerable in some other way. And with Netossa already mad at her, she didn’t need to make any more enemies.

So with great force of will, she gently opened the door. The inside was dimly lit, with roughly half the seats filled, everyone crowded near the front. Several heads turned towards her, but then quickly snapped back to their original positions. Glimmer fell into her seat right next to the door, not caring as her head banged against the wall. 

About a minute later, Netossa eased Spinnerealla into a seat, and she took her own directly across from Glimmer. Her wife’s head immediately drifted to lay on her shoulder, and Netossa gave a small smile as she detached her pauldron so that Spinnerella was laying more comfortably. The vehicle shuddered and began to move.

Glimmer’s eyes slid everywhere but towards Netossa. Their relationship had always been fiery ; Netossa was the only person in her life to come close to matching her passion; one of the only people to never back down from an argument with her. Queen Angella and Spinnrella had to ban the two of them from sparring, because they always ended up actually fighting instead of practicing. The decree had come after a particularly nasty duel, which left Netossa with second degree burns across her chest and Glimmer a harsh gash across her back and a broken wrist.

But those feelings had always been left at the sparring circle; no matter how much they argued, they never used their powers on one another. Until today. Glimmer absentmindedly rubbed a thumb along her wrist, which was still a bit numb. She’d been on the receiving end of Netossa’s anger many times to various degrees, but never had it felt so directed at her . 

Spinnerella’s soft snores drew her attention. Netossa’s harsh glare had mostly faded, as she clasped Spinnerella’s hand, then began to weave tiny strands of nets to bind their fingers together. Glimmer knew that she should look away, that this was a private moment and Netossa certainly did not want her watching, but she couldn’t look away. Then Netossa looked up at her.

Glimmer hardened her features in preparation for the quiet reprimand she was about to receive. Netossa mirrored her expression, the love on her face quickly washed away with cold indifference. They began a staring contest as the transport continued to jostle about. 

They stayed that way for a while, neither moving an inch, daring the other to break first. Glimmer fought the urge to try and go to sleep as day began to break, and Netossa’s head drifted fractionally towards Spinnerella’s.

Netossa broke first. “I was right, you know.”

Glimmer raised an eyebrow.

“I was right to use my nets on you. You were acting erratically, and I wasn’t going to let you rush head on into danger twice in one day.”

Glimmer crossed her arms. “I wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t have any magic.” She mumbled to herself, eyes drifting down to her lap, “I was weak.”

Netossa lightly chuckled, the first break in her chilly demeanor, as she glanced at her and Spinnerella’s intertwined hands. “Only you would call yourself weak after blowing up an entire Horde army.”

“Not like it matters in the end. I couldn’t finish the job; the Horde still won.”

Netossa shrugged the shoulder that didn’t have Spinnerella sleeping on it. “They did. But we’ll get them back.”

“How can you just sit there and be so...casual about this? We lost Plumeria . You know, our main food supplier?”

Netossa rolled her eyes. “You want to know a life lesson I’ve learned from thousands of games of cards? You can only play with the hand you’re dealt. You should take that to heart.”

Glimmer leaned into the space between them, hands tense. “This is war! Not your stupid card games!”

“You only say they’re stupid because you can never beat me.” Netossa cracked a small smirk, before turning serious. “Anyway, the point is that you shouldn’t be obsessed over circumstances outside your control. Sometimes, your perfect hand isn’t perfect enough. Sometimes, the Rebellion loses a battle even though you fought like hell. Idealism and infinite determination can only take you so far.”

Glimmer gritted her teeth. Netossa did have a point. While she possessed the will to win at any costs, she lacked the power to carry out that will. They sat in silence as the road thumped beneath them. Netossa’s eyes drooped shut, and her head fell to lay on top of Spinnerella’s. Glimmer turned to glance out the window.

Her reflection stared back: a powerful warrior, wounded and her armor broken. Her hair was grey-black from the aftereffects of her actions, blotting out every trace of sparkles. Her face was stained black, and when she scratched at her cheek, her finger came away similarly corrupted. A dark scowl twisted her features. And her eyes...

Her eyes burned with the same violet fire that had scorched the world. The same fire that she had woken up surrounded by. The same fire that had parted before her. The same fire that was but a taste of the power she could unlock; power that could make her strong enough to save the world.

She saw an angel of death.

Chapter Text

The laboratory shuddered and rattled as green strands of light scraped along its walls. At the very center of the room, a ball of energy slowly grew; at first only the size of a hand, but eventually becoming as large as a Horde tank. It strained against its container, a crude amalgamation of many pieces of First Ones tech that began to glow with the same sickly light. Hordak’s cloak whipped forward, being tugged by the slight vacuum of the nexus.

Three weeks of Entrapta’s assistance had seen greater results than the previous decade Hordak had spent working alone. Before, it had been impossible to create even the smallest portal for even the smallest amount of time. Now, they routinely generated portals that could last for nearly a minute. These experiments were nowhere near powerful enough to pierce through space and time, but progress was encouraging. 

The light grew brighter, a screech began to echo around them, and faint cracks appeared in the structure. With a small sigh, Hordak turned his back to the portal, crouching and ducking his head. Entrapta took cover in front of him, and the world temporarily went white as an explosion rocked the room.

When the dust settled, the portal had disappeared, and its frame was in tiny fragments that pocketed the room, with a few embedded in the walls. Before he could rise, Entrapta was already sifting through the pile of rubble with her hair. Hordak ran a metal hand through his own hair and picked out bits of smoldering metal from his cloak.

Yes, they had made great progress, but in the past few days the project had stagnated. It seemed First Ones tech - at least the pieces Entrapta had brought with her - had a limit to how much energy it could hold before breaking apart. The good news was that there were entire rooms full of the junk to experiment with. The bad news was that they continued to run into the same exact problem. 

Entrapta broke out of the pile, pieces of rubble flying through the air as she made her way over to Hordak and pulled out her recorder. “Interplanetary Portal Experiment, Day 22. Our designs continue to fail to contain the energies of the portal, lasting no longer than one minute before exploding! I suggest we put the project on hold-”

Hordak snapped his head up. “We are not stopping this-”

One of Entrapta’s hair tendrils slapped over his mouth, cutting him off. His fists ground together, teeth gnashed, and his eyes burned with fury as he stared down the diminutive woman. She smiled at him. “If you would let me finish, I was saying that the project needs to be put on hold until we acquire higher quality First Ones tech.” Her hair slid off his mouth as she darted over to a computer screen filled with equations. “We’ve triple checked our math, so that can’t be the problem. The portal activates, so it can’t be the wiring or power supply. That only leaves the casing for the machine!”

Hordak stalked over to the screen. “So go to the storage rooms and find your ‘higher quality tech.’ And why have we not been using it in the first place?”

“Hey!” Entrapa huffed. “I have been using my best pieces of tech on the portal! What I’m saying is that we need perfectly preserved artifacts.” She flipped a random shard from her overall pocket to him. “All of my stuff comes from the mines of Dryl. Those are great for small pieces, but the big ones are much harder to find.”

Hordak sighed. “I assume you have a location in mind?”

“Several actually!” She pulled up a map of Etheria. “I can track the signatures First Ones tech gives off, and I have pinpointed three extremely strong readings in,” a purple marker appeared on the screen, “the Northern Reach,” a second, “the Crimson Waste,” a third, “and the Whispering Woods.”

His voice drooped. “Surely there must be another location.”

“Nope!” Entrapta said far too happily. “If there was, I would have said so. But all three of these locations are easily accessible.”

“Easily accessible?” Hordak’s cold laugh boomed around the room. “The Northern Reach is a frozen wasteland on the other side of the world.”

Entrapta put her hands on her hips. “It’s not that far by boat. I could get an expedition up there in a week or two.”

“You forget: the Northern waters are part of the Kingdom of Snows. It would be an act of aggression for you to lead an expedition into their territory.”

She cocked her head to the side. “But I’d only be going to do some research and excavating? For science!”

“ You- ” Hordak pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are a member of the Horde now, remember?”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” Entrapta’s shoulders slumped, “right.” They shot right back up. “But what about the Crimson Waste? It has the strongest readings by far! The technology there could definitely be powerful enough to power our portal!”

It was both fascinating and infuriating how a mind as brilliant as Entrapta’s could not remember such simple details.

“The Crimson Waste,” Hordak spoke slowly, as if to a child and not the smartest woman on Etheria, “is a hellish wasteland that doubles as a technological deadzone, and,” he pointed at the marker, “your signature is in the exact center of the desert. It is impossible to retrieve.”

Entrapta’s hair made a dismissive gesture. “That’s ok! The Whispering Woods will be good enough.” Before Hordak could remind her of the fact that the Woods were a shifting landscape in which no outsiders ever returned from, she grabbed a different handheld device. “I know that the ever changing landscape can be tricky, but I’ve created a tracker that should lead me straight to the signal, and then back out to a predetermined entry point.”

She scampered out of the door and into his throne room, taking a perch on one of the armrests of his throne. 

“We should send Adora to find this tech. She’s the perfect candidate!”

Hordak stopped in front of his throne. “And why is that? If your tracker works as you claim, then anyone could retrieve the tech for me. It would be a waste of She-Ra’s abilities to send her on such a simple mission.”

“Wellllll,” Entrapta twiddled her thumbs, “it isn’t that simple. You can’t just walk in, grab the tech, and walk out. The few First Ones ruins I have been able to study were all sealed up tight. It’s impossible to blast your way through the walls, and the entrances all had some kind of lock I could never break. But Adora could!”

“Because of She-Ra?”

“In a way, yes.” Entrapta’s hair held her chin in a pondering expression. “The entrances had complex murals that were impossible for me to decipher, but seeing as Adora can flawlessly understand First Ones language, maybe she could read the password!” She popped up from her perch. “If so, this would also give credence to my hypothesis that Adora is a First One.”

“That is impossible. The First Ones became extinct hundreds of years ago; She-Ra is no older than 20.”

Entrapta scratched her head. “Maybe, but Adora is a fascinating specimen. Her strength, intelligence, dexterity, and reaction time are all outliers for a human. And her skeletal system,” she showed Hordak a scan of Adora’s body, with several charts off to the side, “is definitely not Etherian.”

Hordak’s brow furrowed, “Why do you have multiple scans and analyses of She-Ra on your systems? You are supposed to be focusing solely on my portal.”

“Hey! It’s our portal.” She huffed. “And I was curious after seeing her bond with that piece of First Ones tech on her wrist.”

“You mean She-Ra’s sword? It is First Ones technology?”

Entrapta’s eyes lit up. “Yes! An artifact unlike anything I have ever seen! An artificial runestone that has created a symbiotic bond with its host. I always knew that First Ones tech was partially organic in nature, but Adora’s sword reacts in a way none of my experiments have.” She began to jitter in place. “Although this is scientifically unproven, I am confident in assuming that Adora is a First One!”

Hordak stepped around her and sank into his throne. 

“Very well then. You may inform Force Captain Catra of the mission you wish to be carried out. Tell her that your orders are my orders. She will handle the rest.” Entrapta squealed and darted out of the throne room.

Hordak smiled to himself. She-Ra was a First One. The last of the First Ones. Furthermore, she was the strongest warrior in the universe, wielding a power that had long since disappeared - magic. When he returned to Horde Prime’s side, She-Ra would be the perfect offering to prove his faith. He would willingly give Prime the means to conquer the entire universe, and Prime would look upon him favorably. 

------------------------------------------------------------

The wind whipped through Catra’s mane as she leaned back in her seat, the craggy landscape of the Fright Zone fading away as their skiff whizzed towards the Whispering Woods. The tracker pad Entrapta had given her blinked as it plotted a course towards their destination. Another easy retrieval mission for her and Adora. They were going to see a new part of Etheria, be alone for a week, and once they returned, get more praise from Lord Hordak. Catra yawned and shifted in the muggy heat; life was good .

Speaking of her girlfriend, a broad hand wrapped itself around Catra’s shoulder, pulling her up and into a forehead kiss. What little tension that had been in her body washed away as she closed her eyes. She’d need to - begrudgingly - thank Entrapta when they returned; Catra had been itching for some alone time - truly alone, not just in their room - with Adora. 

Her instincts back home were too ingrained and beaten into her. Even in the safety of their bed, a sliver of fear always lurked in the back of her mind, diverting a small part of her senses to keeping watch. Catra wasn’t doing anything wrong being in love with Adora, but when had that stopped Shadow Weaver from punishing her before?

The acrid fumes and rhythmic roars of machinery, the invasive green lighting, and the cold metal boxing her in all sent the same message to Catra: Danger, you are not safe here. Sure, it was her home, and she had some good memories there, but those were in spite of the conditions, not because of them. The Fright Zone was her home because it was the only place she had known, not because it actually welcomed her.

But out here, on a skiff with only Adora, Catra could truly feel safe. The pleasant smell of grass wafted up from the ground as they cut through the plains, the warm light of daytime soothed her skin, and aside from the steady hum of the engine, it was completely silent. With Adora’s lips pressed against her forehead, Catra went limp in her seat, only being held up by Adora’s hand.

Adora giggled and laid her back down, causing Catra to grumble and crack her eyes open. Adora’s golden hair billowed in the slipstream of the skiff as she glanced back at Catra. Her jacket was tied around her waist, similarly flapping in the wind. Her pale skin was slowly bronzing in the light, and instead of her traditional undershirt, Adora wore a simple tank top given the heat.

Fully aware that she was blushing, Catra muttered, “Focus on the road, dummy.” It wasn’t fair how Adora made looking beautiful so easy.

Adora gave a dismissive flop of her hand. “Nah, it’s fine. These plains are completely flat, so there’s nothing for me to run into,” she gestured at the horizon, “and it’d be hard for us to not be going towards the Whispering Woods.” Far, far in the distance, Catra could barely make out the specks of tree tops.

“Still, I’d rather not chance it and wreck our skiff. I don’t want to have to walk back to the Fright Zone.”

“ If that did happen - which it won’t, because I am an excellent driver - you wouldn’t have to walk at all.” Adora leaned against the side railing and smirked. “I would carry you back to the Fright Zone and enjoy every step.” 

Catra buried her face in her hands. “Adora, you are such a dork !” 

And I love that about you .

Adora pointed an accusing finger at her. “Then that would mean you’re in love with a dork!”

She didn’t have a comeback for that, instead groaning into her hands as Adora boisterously laughed. When her laughs became a coughing fit, Catra found the right moment to look up. Adora was doubled over the railing, hacking up a lung as she pounded her fist against the metal. As her coughs continued, and a dent in the railing began to form, Catra took matters into her own hands.

“C’mon,” she dragged Adora into the center of the deck, “arms above your head.” Adora listened, even as her face began to be tinged with blue. Catra wrapped her arms around Adora’s chest, beginning to rhythmically compress. As Adora continued to choke despite her efforts, the moment transitioned from fun to worrisome. Catra squeezed hard , and Adora gasped, a grey bug as wide as Catra’s thumb flying out of her throat.

It writhed on the deck for a moment before rolling over onto its legs. Four blue eyes peered up at Catra as it scuttled towards the railing. She pulled Adora out of its path. Once on top of the railing, it turned to look back at the person who had nearly eaten it. Then, wings unfurled from its carapace and the beetle flew off the skiff, quickly whisked away by the wind.

Adora sucked in deep, greedy breaths as color slowly returned to her face. Catra knelt next to her, propping her up so that she was getting better airflow. When Adora stopped gasping for breath, she worriedly asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Adora gave one last disgusting cough, then a thumbs up, “just swallowed a bug. A really big, really gross bug.” She gagged and scraped her tongue with her hand.

Catra laughed. “Good thing I was here to save the day; it would’ve been pretty embarrassing if She-Ra died because she tried to eat a bug.”

“I didn’t eat it,” Adora crossed her arms and pouted, “it flew in my mouth. There’s a difference.”

“Sounds like you ate it.”

“Oh I’ll make you eat it!” Adora lunged at Catra, tackling her to the deck. They began to play fight, wrestling and rolling over each other. Well, Adora did most of the wrestling; even going at just half speed, Adora was now immovable to Catra. She had to actually strain and claw out of Adora’s grip now, instead of simply contorting her way out. 

Their fight ended far too quickly, with Catra pinned to the warm deck by Adora’s heavy frame, laying perpendicular on her back. She growled and raked her claws along the metal, trying to find leverage to flip the tables, but Adora slackened and became entirely dead weight. Catra’s muscles burned as she lifted an inch from the deck, before quickly collapsing back down.

She rapped three times next to her head, conceding defeat. Adora giggled and rolled off her back to sit down next to her.

If the rest of Catra’s life was going to be like this, she would be content. Going on fun little adventures, exploring the world, being in love with Adora; this was nice, certainly an upgrade from her childhood. It was fun . But would she be truly happy if this was the best her life got?

They had always whispered about rising to power, but those had just been the fantasies of two kids who knew of nothing beyond the borders of the Fright Zone. Realistically, Adora should have topped out at being a Force Captain, and Catra would have been lucky to still be around. Never in their wildest dreams did Catra answer solely to Lord Hordak and Adora wield the power of a god.

And what did Adora want? She was definitely more motivated than Catra, and she always bought into the Horde’s propaganda more. Would she be content to live a simple, peaceful life once the war was over? Did she still dream big, of ruling the world now that she had the power to actually do so? 

Taking a deep breath, Catra took the leap. “Hey Adora, what do you want to do?”

Adora gave her an odd look. “What do you mean? We’re kinda stuck on this skiff for the next several hours. Unless you mean…” She wiggled her eyebrows, which only made her look silly.

“I’m serious,” she sighed. “And I was talking about the future. Like, once the war is over or near the end, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Adora tucked her disheveled hair back behind her ears. “I’ve just been busy with being She-Ra and trying to learn how to be a good girlfriend.” She glanced at Catra. “I am a good girlfriend, right?”

She laid her hand over Adora’s. “Yes, you’re the best.” Adora beamed at her, and it took every bit of Catra’s willpower to not kiss her right then. But they needed to have this talk.

“Remember how we used to stay up at night, whispering about how we would take over the world together?” Adora nodded. “Well, I still feel that way. I still have those dreams, and now that I’m a Force Captain and you’re She-Ra , they could actually happen. All this,” she waved at the blurring landscape, “has been the best couple months of my life. But I want more . I want to be respected by everyone. I want to sit on a throne with you.”

Adora shifted uncomfortably. “Look, that sounds...nice, but I don’t know if we could pull it off. I don’t want to kill Shadow Weaver or Hordak, and even if we did, do you really think everyone else would just instantly obey us? We wouldn’t be safe, and more importantly, we wouldn’t be happy.”

“Woah woah woah!” Catra raised her hands defensively. “I never said we had to kill anyone!” Okay, to be fair, she was going to kill Shadow Weaver the first chance she got, but Adora didn’t need to know that right now.

“Then how else would we take over the Horde?” Adora exasperatedly said. “Hordak and Shadow Weaver won’t let us take power without a fight, and I don’t want to fight them! I get why you would want to overthrow Shadow Weaver, but Hordak has been so nice to you!”

“I haven’t planned that far ahead!” Catra winced at her own sharp tone. “I was waiting to ask you what you wanted, and I couldn’t exactly talk about this stuff back in the Fright Zone. It’s okay that you don’t want to rule the Horde; I’m happy enough being with you.” She took Adora’s hand again. “But what do you want?”

Adora sat in silence for a minute. “I guess...I want to be useful in whatever way I can be. Once the war is over, the princesses won’t be a threat, so I wouldn’t have to be She-Ra all the time. As long as you are with me, I’d be happy.” She squared her shoulders. “But if I’m the best person for a job, I would take it. I just want to help people, however I can.”

Sometimes Catra wondered if every ounce of luck in her life had gone into having Adora as her girlfriend; if so, it certainly explained why everything else had gone so poorly. It should be impossible for anyone to be so beautiful, kind, and thoughtful, yet she sat right next to such a person. Adora was a walking god and all she cared about was helping people and - more importantly - being in love with Catra.

Now that she had Adora’s answer, Catra stopped holding back, lunging through the space between them to kiss her. Adora’s eyes widened then softly closed, squeezing Catra’s hand as she returned the kiss. When they broke apart for air, her eyes were filled with stars. “What was that for?”

Catra’s heart didn’t skip a beat as she said, “Sometimes I forget how amazing you are.” Adora’s eyes lit up even more as she dragged Catra back into another heated kiss.

------------------------------------------------------------

The Whispering Woods certainly lived up to their name. Ever since their skiff had broken through the tree line and become shrouded in the shade of this ancient, towering forest, the irritating sound had taken up residence in Catra’s head. It was too soft for Adora to hear, and too soft for her to make out what was being whispered. 

It came from everywhere, and she resisted the urge to constantly whirl around. There was always a hint of motion at the edge of her peripheral vision, but whenever she tried to spot it, it vanished. Or perhaps it never existed at all, and she was going crazy from the weird air. There were literal sparkles drifting through the branches after all, coalescing around Adora and making her skin glow like She-Ra’s hair.

Catra raked her claws through her hair, almost strong enough to break the skin of her scalp. She’d torn their supplies apart looking for a pair of ear plugs, even though she knew they hadn’t brought any. The woods hadn’t been like this the first time they visited, but back then, Adora wasn’t She-Ra yet. Seconds crawled by as her gaze burned a hole into Entrapta’s tracker pad.

Other than the invasive noise and the sparkly air, the Whispering Woods were...well, woods. The trees, while gargantuan, were just trees. And although she didn’t see many animals, the few she did spot were ordinary in size and species. Hopefully, there would be no magical shenanigans on this mission: just walk into some dumpy old ruins, find this dumb tech, and walk out. 

As they broke into a small clearing, the forest cover parting to reveal the peak of a metal spire in the distance, Catra breathed a sigh of relief. They’d been searching for hours because Entrapta’s tracker kept glitching and telling them to double back. 

The spire grew closer, and the forest floor began to change from grass and roots to stone. And as their skiff entered a courtyard in front of the structure, that stone quickly changed to shattered rubble. 

Before Adora could stop the skiff, Catra jumped off and made her way over to what she assumed was the door to the ruin. Deep grooves ran across the surface, creating an elaborate symbol that hurt her eyes. If Entrapta was right and this place was a First Ones ruin, Adora could open the door. 

“Hey Adora!” She yelled. “Come open this door! I want to get out of here yesterday!”

Adora jogged over and put her hands on her hips. “You know you can say please, right?”

“ Please ,” Catra crumpled against Adora, “open this door before I die of old age. Look!” She pointed at her hair. “My hair is already turning grey! So say the stupid password so we can open this stupid door.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Adora was probably rolling her eyes based on her tone. “It’s going to take me, like, two seconds to read the password.” She paused for a moment. “Eternia!”

A blinding light burst from the top of the spire, and the grooves along the structure were illuminated with multi-colored energy. The outline of a door quickly emerged as the First Ones symbol glowed. But after a few seconds of the harsh light, the spire winked out.

“Huh? Nice job geniu-”

And then the ground fell out from under them.

Catra landed on her feet, while Adora fell on her face. When the dust settled, they were standing in a dark corridor, the walls glinting despite there being no source of light. The surface was strangely cool, too smooth and pure to be metal. The air was sterile, and all she could smell was Adora next to her. She shivered. At least the whispering had stopped.

She offered a hand to Adora, who took it and popped up. A brilliant golden flash illuminated the corridor for a split second, as Adora materialized her sword. The darkness quickly returned, although the sword continued to emit a soft light, enough to where they could see each other’s faces. Adora’s skin had lost its glow and was now marred with dirt; Catra probably looked the same.

Adora looked up and frowned. “Where are we?”

Catra did the same and found nothing. No hole, no cracks in the ceiling, no light shining from ground level. It was as if the hole had never existed in the first place.

“Whatever this place is, it’s creepy and alien.” Catra tensed at being unable to see through the opaque darkness. “Which is good because that probably means there is First Ones tech down here.”

“And bad because we don’t know where ‘here’ is.” Adora finished for her.

“Yeah, we need to find a way out before we start looking for the tech. Which way do you want to go?”

Adora made her way down the corridor. “What do you mean? We can only go forward.”

Catra turned the opposite direction. “We can also go ba-” A wall stared back, and she was damn sure that it hadn’t been there when they fell down here. She let out a low hiss that reverberated off these strange walls and made her hair stand up. “Fine, we’ll go forward. And can you make a flashlight from your sword? This place is giving me the creeps.”

Adora concentrated, and a more refined, more powerful light shot from her hand. As bright as it was, the darkness was still stronger.

They walked for what felt like hours in this one corridor, never finding an exit or a different path. It snaked just enough to not be a straight line, lulling them into the false belief that they were making progress. The walls never changed color, even when the full force of Adora’s light fell upon them, always softly glinting. The slightest hint of a breeze tickled Catra’s fur. 

She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like they were being watched. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but gold and black shouldn’t create the flecks of white that hovered in the darkest shadows. The cool air of the ruins had long overstayed its welcome, as goosebumps ran down her arms. A few times she swore there was a blur of movement behind them, but found only the inky darkness. It was so silent that their steps and breaths echoed around them, and her head began to pound from the vibrations.

Finally, they stumbled out of the corridor and into a room. Actually, cavern would be the more accurate description; the ceiling stretched at least fifty feet above them, and the walls split apart to encircle an area as large as one of the Horde’s training grounds. Pillars made of the same alien material rose from floor to ceiling.

In the center of the space, a ball of light hovered on a small platform. It had to be the First Ones tech!

“Finally!” Catra grunted as they walked over to the light. “That’s one half of our mission complete. Now we just need to find a way out.”

Adora tilted her head to the side. “What is it? This can’t be the tech Entrapta wanted. It’s just...light.”

“Clearly the tech is whatever is generating the light. Think, Adora!” Catra tapped her on the forehead. “This is the first thing we’ve found in hours ! What else could it be?”

She stepped forward to grab it. 

“Catra, wait!” 

And the next thing she knew, they were back in the Fright Zone. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Lifeless white eyes tracked her two guests as they made their way through the Crystal Castle. She subtly shifted the ruins, altering their path away from the castle’s main chapel and towards one of the simulation rooms. While it was vital for her to contact Adora, she needed information first.

And so she led the pair on a pointless trek, walking them in circles as she prepared the necessary systems. When all systems were fully online, she allowed them to exit the infinite corridor and into Simulation Room Three. She generated a ball of light in the otherwise empty space, to lure Adora and her companion close enough for the scan to work.

It went flawlessly; the companion recklessly reached for the light and activated the scanner. In the span of one second, she had full access to their memories.

She designated the companion’s data to a lower priority, investing ninety percent of her systems to sift through Adora’s mind. 

Adora would do nicely. The Horde had instilled great discipline and obedience in her, to the point that she sacrificed her own self interests in the name of the ‘greater good’. Her brutal upbringing had made her strong, even before she had been given the sword. And her performances as She-Ra were remarkable. In just a few months, Adora had already surpassed Mara’s power.

Mara…

Mara had been a coddled child, a scientist thrust into the role of She-Ra. She could not handle the greatness of She-Ra because she had not been raised for such a role. But Adora was a soldier, broken down and built back up over eighteen years. She had never known complacency, always being told she wasn’t enough and had to be more. She could handle the responsibilities of She-Ra.

Prominent in most of her major memories was this maroon, manipulative mentor: Shadow Weaver, as Adora knew her. The woman had done an excellent job of molding Adora, perhaps too well. Her conditioning was perfect, so perfect that she was unconditionally loyal to Shadow Weaver and a willing agent in her schemes. This was the imperative task, to break Adora free of Shadow Weaver’s web.

Light Hope knew exactly why Shadow Weaver had molded Adora so carefully. The sorcerer had appeared on her sensors long ago, when she repeatedly trespassed into the abandoned Arxia outpost, searching for Grayskull’s failsafe. When Shadow Weaver had learned the cost of the failsafe, she had instead turned to the Spell of Obtainment. The flood of dark magic she had unleashed threatened to corrupt the Heart of Etheria, before being contained. 

Shadow Weaver’s vision ran counter to her own. Her creators had tasked her with firing the Heart at any cost, while Shadow Weaver dared to try and neutralize the weapon and steal the power amassed over a millenium for her selfish ambition. Light Hope could not fail her directive.

Having analyzed Adora’s memories three times over, she turned her attention to the companion. 

Catra held no real value to Light Hope, but she was interested in her relationship with Shadow Weaver. Whereas Adora’s was built around loyalty, respect, and obedience, Catra’s was dominated by fear - and much more importantly - hate . So much so that even as she slept, she dreamed of taking revenge, of killing. She skimmed through Catra’s memories, and Light Hope found such an assessment logical. 

As she analyzed their recent memories, Light Hope found her solution to the problem of Shadow Weaver. 

Adora and Catra’s love for each other was so intense that despite being in a relationship for only a month, it was quickly overpowering their previous programming. Light Hope noted with interest as Adora brought herself back from the brink of death, because she desired to return to Catra and confess her feelings, how she temporarily cast aside notions of responsibility and sacrifice. The fiery anger and fear of Catra as she threatened Princess Entrapta, because she was afraid of losing Adora, in stark contrast to the cold hate towards Shadow Weaver.

Yes, their love for each other was the key. It would take the most delicate of touches, but as Light Hope watched Shadow Weaver envelop Catra in burning lightning, she knew exactly what needed to be done.

Simulation Room Three activated.

Chapter Text

Catra whooped as she raced down the corridor, hand in hand with Adora as Octavia stomped behind them. The walls of the Fright Zone zoomed past them as the Force Captain howled when they began to pull away. Adora lead her through a series of twists and turns, losing their pursuer, mirroring Catra’s laugh the entire time. 

When they could no longer hear Octavia, Catra slowed down. The dull ache in her nose had returned.

“Adoraaaaa, I think my nose is broken, for real this time. It hurtssssss!” To prove her point, she poked the bridge and whimpered as the pain spiked.

Adora stumbled to a stop and turned around. “It is not ,” she put her hands on her hips, “it’s perfectly straight. And no, you aren’t bleeding.”

“How do you know?” The bite in her words was lessened by the film of tears creeping up in her eyes. “It isn’t your nose.”

Adora rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll check it again.” She softly cradled Catra’s cheeks, who leaned into the warmth, and pulled her close. She could feel Adora’s breath on her skin and was sucked into her blue eyes as they hovered inches away.

When Adora let go of her, she had to stifle a whine at the loss of contact. “It doesn’t look broken, Catra. You’re just imagining things!”

“No I’m not!” She stomped her foot. “Why won’t you believe me?”

Adora opened her mouth to answer, but snapped it shut and shot to attention. 

“Catra.” She flinched at the voice behind her, only now noticing that the corridor had darkened. Slowly turning around, she found herself eye level with maroon robes. Taking a quick step backwards to stand next to Adora, she gulped. “What is the meaning of this outburst? You are far too old to be acting so immature .”

“I...I’m sorry, Shadow Weaver.” Her ears pinned against her scalp. “I think my nose is broken, and it really hurts, but Adora doesn’t believe me.”

Shadow Weaver hummed as she tilted her head. “I assume this is related to your little incident with Force Captain Octavia; am I correct?” Catra shakily nodded as her heart began to jump out of her chest. Shadow Weaver closed the gap between them, hands lashing out to grab her face. They were the complete opposite of Adora’s: cold and digging into her skin. Catra could feel an icy sensation run from the points of contact up to her nose. An involuntary whimper escaped her throat.

Those invasive hands unlatched from her face, and Shadow Weaver glided a step back. “Octavia has fractured your nasal bone, which seems fair seeing as you took out her eye .”

Catra jumped as warmth enveloped her right hand. Adora gave her a small smile and squeezed. “C’mon, let’s go get some medicine.” She began to turn.

“No.”

Adora winced. “Oh, sorry Shadow Weaver. May we go get some medicine?”

“No.”

“But Catra is hurt!” Adora pleaded.

“Yes, because of her own actions.” Shadow Weaver peered down her nose - at least Catra assumed she did behind the mask. “She mutilated a Force Captain.” The full force of her gaze turned back to Catra. “And why would you do such an uncivilized thing?”

“It’s not my fault! Octavia insulted me!”

“And that gave you the right to maim her?” Shadow Weaver clasped her hands, and Catra flinched. That was never a good sign.

“I...well…” The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and her claws dug into the palms of her hands. She needed to come up with an excuse, fast . “It’s not my fault Octavia lost a fight to a six year old!” 

That’s a terrible excuse!

Her eyes fell to the floor, too scared to keep looking at Shadow Weaver. The few seconds she had to wait for a response stretched on, as she felt sweat inch down her face. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She’d been punished before; she could take it again.

Shadow Weaver sighed, “I suppose you have already been punished for your savage behavior. You will not receive any further physical punishment. However,” she held up one gaunt finger, “you are forbidden from receiving medical attention for your injury.”

“But she’s hurt!” Adora shouted, before immediately cringing. “I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.”

“ Catra ,” Shadow Weaver spat out her name, “needs to learn that her actions have consequences. This experience will teach her to act more civilized.”

Catra wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. 

“I am being merciful, but do not test my limits. You,” she glanced at Adora, “will keep an eye on Catra and make sure she does not steal any medicine. You are also forbidden from sharing yours with her. If either of you disobey my orders, the consequences will be...severe.”

She flicked a hand behind her. “Now run along. And try not to maim anyone else.”

Catra fled down the hall.

“Catra wait!” Adora shouted as she chased her down and grabbed her hand.

She spun around, tears brimming in her eyes. And then she yelped and jumped five feet in the air, hair standing on end and her tail poofed. Because the Adora standing in front of her wasn’t the sweet, little girl with a gap in her teeth and flabby kid arms. This Adora towered over her, sculpted muscles fully on display from her wearing just a tank top.

Catra remembered. They weren’t in the Fright Zone; they were lost in some ruins in the Whispering Woods. They weren’t little kids, but hardened soldiers. They were lovers.

Adora had a shocked, open mouth expression, and Catra was sure she did as well. She glanced down at their intertwined hands. The sensation of Adora’s warm, rough skin felt real, but so had the sickening squelch of Octavia’s eye as Catra clawed it open. She nudged her nose with her off hand, finding it perfectly healed, which made sense, seeing as the injury had occurred twelve years ago and not two hours ago.

Adora squeezed her hand, eyes wide. “Tell me you saw that too!”

“Yeah,” she squeezed back, “I saw that. Did it feel as real to you as it did to me? Because I actually thought I was six again.”

“It did.” Adora’s tongue flicked at where her tooth gap used to be. “It was some kind of simulation, but way, way more advanced than our training ones.”

Catra dragged a hand through her hair. “Okay, so we’re stuck inside of a hyper realistic simulation that just made us relive memories. Great.” She glanced around the corridor. “So how do we get out?”

Adora shrugged, “Just keep walking in a straight line until we hit a real wall, then follow it to a door?” To prove her point, she reached out to the nearby ‘wall’, and her arm sunk through it. “From what I remember of the chamber we started in, it isn’t that big.” She tugged on Catra’s hand and they began to walk.

The dim lighting of the Fright Zone gave way to a red and blue corridor that shone with the light of the morning moonrise, even though she was pretty sure they were still underground, and that it was closer to the moonset than rise outside. A waterfall burbled as it fell through the ceiling, past them, and down into the abyss below. When she reached out to brush her hand through it, she felt the briefest sensation of wetness before the water flickered and the feeling dissipated.

Their path sloped upwards as they emerged into another chamber, identical to the one they had just escaped.

A bone chilling gust of wind cut through, the beautiful colors of the crystalline surface decaying into the harsh grey, green, and red of the Fright Zone. 

Wait, red?

Shrouded in the doorway before them, the Black Garnet loomed at Catra, stretching across the distance between them. Strands of electricity crawled along its glossy surface, and everytime one of them snapped, her heart skipped a beat.

Adora’s voice - too high pitched - echoed through the gloom. “We’re definitely not allowed in there.” Then she giggled, and Catra’s body betrayed her as she mimicked Adora. 

Nononononononononononono

Catra screamed inside her head as her body gleefully followed Adora into the chamber. She poured every ounce of her will into grabbing Adora’s arm and running far, far away from this cursed place, but the script had already been written, and all she could do was re-live the most terrifying moment of her life.

Shadow Weaver’s shuddering groan drove them into hiding, peeking around the edges of the runestone as she stumbled over to a table. The click of her mask detaching rang in Catra’s ears, as she saw Shadow Weaver’s head slowly turn to the side. Again, she tried to change the past - cover Adora’s mouth, don’t let them get spotted - but she remained paralyzed.

The little light in the room touched the gruesome scars, and Adora gasped next to her, just as sharp and piercing as when Shadow Weaver took off her mask. In slow motion, the shock in Shadow Weaver’s eyes morphed into rage.

The shadows flared around them and the temperature dropped. “Get out!”

Adora pulled on her arm and they frantically ran towards the exit. Her heart crawled up into her throat as the shadows began to blot out the light of safety. Every step taken, she tensed for the paralzying lightning, eyes staring at the spot ahead of her where she would be struck. 

The wait was almost as bad as the real thing. Almost.

Midstride, an avalanche of burning, paralyzing cold washed over her. She whimpered as she spun around like a top, just as Shadow Weaver clicked her mask back into place. 

Her oily smooth voice sent shivers down Catra’s spine. “Catra...you stay .”

Catra’s vision began to flicker as her lungs - frozen in place - strained against the magic. Shadow Weaver took her time floating to stand in front of her, drawing out the pain and fear.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?”

“We were just playing.” Catra squeaked out. As if Shadow Weaver hadn’t already made up her mind on Catra’s guilt and ensuing punishment, like so many times before and since. As if Shadow Weaver didn’t despise her very being, and only kept her around because Adora liked her.

She thought she was tough, that she could withstand anything Shadow Weaver threw at her. This thirty second stretch annihilated such delusions for all time. She was no stranger to being disciplined by Shadow Weaver and her magic, but her experiences before now were equivalent to being slapped in the face.

This was being mercilessly choked to death. Except it was worse, because Catra was quite literally helpless, only living so long as Shadow Weaver let her. She couldn’t fight back, couldn’t beg; she just trembled in place as Shadow Weaver leered at her and spoke to Adora in that disgusting voice. 

Tears began to stream down her face as Shadow Weaver leaned in close, icy fingertips barely grazing the skin of her cheek. Her heart pounded so violently - both from the lack of air and her overwhelming terror - that she could only make out bits and pieces of Shadow Weaver’s threat.

Except she knew it by heart.

Because it had terrorized her for years, shocking her awake in the middle of the night. A night of sleep without waking up screaming (nearly silent) and echoes of ‘I will dispose of you myself’ rattling in her head was as rare as a Shadow Weaver complement. She developed a fear of the dark which lasted until her early teens; hell, even Kyle got over it before she did. 

Her dependence on Adora grew so much that she never left Adora’s side unless forced to, and then she sprinted back to her side, uncaring of the jeers thrown at her for being so clingy. Because the more she was around Adora, the more Adora liked her. And the more Adora liked her, the safer she was from Shadow Weaver.

Catra was shaken from her thoughts as Adora took her hand and dragged her out of the Black Garnet chamber. As soon as they crossed the threshold, she found herself in control of her body again, and not just free of Shadow Weaver’s magic.

She had to break free of the simulation before she started her argument with Adora about not protecting her from Shadow Weaver. She couldn’t handle any more emotional turmoil today. 

She flexed her claws, staring at the little slivers. They weren’t as sharp as her real ones, but they would do. She pressed her thumb against her flabby bicep, growling as the skin dented, but wasn’t punctured. Her hand snapped around her arm, squeezing in a death grip as her claw slowly broke the skin. 

The sharp pain was glorious, wrenching her out of the past and into the present; an anchor that she could focus on. Much better to leave a small scar and lose a little blood than to face the shadows of the past.

She took a steady breath as she wiggled her real claws into the muscle. Piercing pressure, blood loss, the deep set ache in her muscle, these were things Catra was used to. Terrors of the past - buried long ago, but now dug back up - were not. The cloud of panic began to dissipate.

And then a strong hand latched itself around her wrist, yanking it away from her other arm. Any progress vanished, as a tsunami of fear crashed down on her mind. She tried to pull away, but the grip was ironclad. Her free hand moved to latch onto her paralyzed arm, but was quickly captured as well.

The brim of tears, which had receded after the simulation ended, broke through the dam. She was weak and helpless and frozen and controlled. She saw a hint of red and thrashed in panic as her legs gave out, crashing to the ground. Phantoms scraped along her skin as a shadowy figure loomed over her.

Finding a well of hidden strength - or more likely, desperation - Catra screamed and twisted her wrist at an unnatural angle, then clawed at the figure’s head. She struck close to its eye - if it even had eyes - but she did not feel the squelch of an eyeball ripping apart for the second time in one hour.

The shadow jerked back, letting go of her hands as it cradled its face. It dropped to one knee in front of her, head bowed as its dark fingers traced the four gouges Catra had inflicted. She turned and stumbled away, nearly falling every other step as her eyes refused to stay open through the thick film of tears.

She ran and ran and ran, until her heart nearly exploded, and she collapsed in a heap on the cool floor. 

A distant echo, so soft that her heightened senses barely registered it, sounded around her. “Catra...Catra...Catra…”

Catra dug her claws into her mane and curled up as tight as she could. There was no escape. She couldn’t take another step, and the sound kept creeping closer. Bad enough that she was going to be punished in the first place, but then also assaulting the person who was going to punish her? They were going to make Shadow Weaver look like Kyle.

She began to hyperventilate as hard footsteps stomped closer to her. They stopped a few feet away, and her heart pounded as she waited for the first blow to fall. 

It never came. She trembled on the ground as seconds stretched into minutes. They probably enjoyed this, watching Catra flinch every few seconds, and her raggedy breaths turning into hiccups. They enjoyed how a simple touch could turn her into a pathetic mess.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she found the courage to look up. Well, courage was the wrong word; apprehension was more accurate. 

And when she looked up, she wished that it was Shadow Weaver standing over her.

Four harsh gouges cut through Adora’s right eye.

Streams of blood pooled down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. A terrified look shrouded her face, one that would haunt Catra’s nightmares for the rest of her life.

Catra’s heart broke as she ducked her head back into her hands. Of course she did that. Of course she did that . The most perfect, most loving, best person in the world loved her, and how did Catra repay her? She took out her eye like a savage.

She wished she was transported back into the simulation in the Black Garnet chamber, for the icy suffocation of Shadow Weaver’s magic. Because this was it for them. How could Adora ever love her after this?

“Catra…” Adora’s voice was gut wrenchingly soft. “Are you okay?”

Not ‘how could you do this to me’ or ‘I thought you loved me’ or even ‘I hate you!’. No, only Adora would be so stupidly selfless and gentle. Couldn’t she see that Catra was irreversibly fucked up? Only fucked up people hurt their girlfriends like she just did.

As the fog slowly cleared from her mind, Catra felt even worse. Adora had grabbed her arms and held her tight because she was cutting herself with her claws after reliving a traumatic experience. Adora was doing the right thing, stopping her girlfriend from hurting herself, and so Catra just had to mutilate her.

The slight rustle of fabric sounded somewhere above her, and Catra flinched. The rustling stopped. 

“Catra,” Adora’s voice made her want to curl up and die, “is it okay if I sit down? I’ll keep my distance from you.”

She choked out a ‘mhmm’, and so Adora slowly sank to the ground.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She didn’t respond. Adora sighed, “That’s okay. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just know that I’m not mad at you. I mean it. It wasn’t your fault.”

It wasn’t her fault? Catra knew damn well that it was. She chose to claw out Adora’s eye. Adora was just too stubborn, too nice, too blinded by her love for Catra to see that. But soon that love would wither away, and she would rightly hate Catra for what she did. 

Tremors continued to rock her body as they sat in silence. 

She sucked in a deep breath, keeping her head buried in her hands, and murmured, “I’m sorry.” Ordinarily, it would have been too quiet for Adora to hear, but the dead silence around them made her apology - which surely sounded half assed to Adora - roar in her ears.

Catra couldn’t put into words the shame and guilt she felt right now. Saying more than a few syllables would lead to her rambling, and then she’d break down, and she’d done that enough today.

I’m sorry for betraying your trust. I’m sorry for betraying your love. I’m sorry that I cut out your eye. I’m sorry that I ruined our relationship. I’m sorry that I am weak and couldn’t control my fears.

“It’s okay.” Why did Adora keep saying that!? Things were not okay! “You didn’t cause any permanent damage. My eye is okay.”

WHAT?

Catra’s head snapped up. The rivulets of blood had started to harden along the cuts, forming bumpy ridges. Adora gave her a small smile, then reached with one hand to wipe away the blood around her eye before opening it. The scabs on and below her eyelids cracked.

One brilliant blue iris stared back at Catra, freely moving around. The cornea was undamaged, wholly white except for small, light red webbing that encircled the edges of the eyeball.

“I can see, and the eye itself doesn’t hurt at all. It’s okay, Catra. I know you would never try to hurt me.”

The paralysis gripping her body disappeared, and Catra lunged forward to bury her face into Adora’s chest. And for the second time in the hour, she wept. She wept and wept and the tears seemed to be never-ending, even as two stains began to grow on Adora’s tank top. She wrapped Adora in a crushing grip and wouldn’t let go. Adora returned the gesture, her warm arms wrapping around Catra’s back, burning away the cold terror.

She had told Adora that no one would ever take her away from Catra, and yet, as she looked up at Adora’s eye, Catra had come within an inch of losing her. The gouges left by her claws began an inch above her eyebrow, cutting through the hair and continuing through the eye socket for another inch. The smallest sliver of skin separated the bottom half of the cuts from Adora’s eye.

Adora rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Feeling better?” She nodded against Adora’s chest. “Do you want to talk about what happened? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Adora hastily added.

Catra really didn’t want to, but much like their conversation about their future on the skiff - and wow that felt like forever ago - she knew she would feel better once she got this weight off her chest. So she took a shuddering breath.

“I had a bad reaction to the memory with Shadow Weaver. It...brought back a lot of old fears that I thought I had gotten over.” Her eyes flicked around, unable to hold Adora’s gaze. “And so I didn’t want to relive our argument about you being her favorite and never protecting me. That’s why I was stabbing myself. To wake me up from the simulation.”

“Oh,” Adora’s face fell, “that’s why you freaked out when I grabbed you; I made things worse. I’m sorry.” Then she glanced down at her arms. “Is this okay? Me hugging you?”

Catra giggled, the first happy sound she had made in hours. “ I’m hugging you , dummy. Of course it’s okay.” 

“Wait, you said the memory ‘brought back old fears’? What do you mean? Has this happened before?” An unfamiliar edge entered Adora’s voice.

“No!” Catra shook her head as sharply as she could, which wasn’t that much given how burnt out she was. “It was never this bad before, and I never hurt myself like that. I just had nightmares sometimes when I was a kid.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, and besides, nothing worked. Even if I slept in your bed, or even next to you, I still had them. You needed your sleep, and I eventually learned to get over them.”

Adora stared off into the distance, jaw grinding as she thought about something. After a few seconds, she met Catra’s eyes. “How often did you have these nightmares, and for how long?”

“Every once in a-”

“ Catra, ” Adora’s eyes burned, “ How. Long. ”

She gulped. “Almost...every night. Until I was 13.”

“And who were they about?”

I will dispose of you myself .

A shadow seemed to dance far in the distance behind Adora.

“Shadow Weaver,” Catra whispered.

Adora’s left hand, the side that had her vambrace, drifted off Catra’s back and down to the floor. Catra flinched when a sharp crack reverberated from the ground. Adora brushed off the crystalline dust from her hand onto her pants with a carefully neutral expression, leaving silvery-blue streaks on the fabric. “C’mon, let’s find the exit to this place. You want me to carry you, or can you walk?”

“I can walk, but what about the First Ones tech?”

“I don’t care about the tech.” Adora pulled herself to her feet. “Nothing bad has happened to me, but this place is hurting you, almost on purpose. We can find the tech somewhere else. And if this is the only location, well,” she shrugged, “Hordak can send someone else to find it. I’m not going to let you get hurt anymore.” She gently pulled Catra up as well. “Ready?”

Catra nodded, took Adora’s hand, and they began to walk. 

Adora marched with purpose, leading the way as the oppressive gloom of the Fright Zone dissolved into the bright corridor from before. Bright blues and pinks assaulted Catra’s puffy eyes, but she couldn’t find the energy to hate the princess-y color. The cut on her bicep began to scab over.

Catra wondered why this place hated her so much. It could replay her memories, and yet all she got were the bad ones? Why couldn’t they relive that time she pranked Kyle into believing that a ghost was haunting him, and then Adora dressed up in her bed sheets to scare the shit out of him in the middle of the night? Or the time she and Adora ate themselves into a food coma after too many grey ration bars? Or any of the great memories made over the past month since she had started dating Adora?

She focused on the warmth of Adora’s hand enveloping her own. 

Then she blinked and the bright colors around her died once again, replaced with the harsh glare of the Fright Zone.

Yet this time, Catra didn’t recognize the memory. Adora was dragging her down a corridor, but that had happened a million times. Her friend looked to be about 13, but nothing important had happened in either of their lives at 13. A sense of confusion, but not necessarily unease, grew inside her.

Adora stopped in front of a supply closet - one of thousands in the Fright Zone - and yanked her inside, flipping on a light switch. The overhead lights stuttered on, revealing the room to have been cleared out of everything except for a blanket and two pillows on the ground.

Catra raised an eyebrow as Adora pulled her down to sit on one of the pillows. “Uh, what is this?”

“Oh, well, uhhh,” Adora stuttered and twiddled her thumbs, her cheeks burning a slight pink. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you!” She gasped out.

“Okay? You’re talking to me right now. What’s up?”

Adora buried her face in her hands, raking through her hair. “Okay, so a few days ago, I was talking to one of the senior recruits about...stuff.”

“What, you bored with our training and want more work?” she snarked.

The burn of Adora’s blush spread past her hands. “No! It was...relationship stuff.”

Oh. Right. That was a thing that people did. Catra knew that plenty of cadets dated each other; hell, Lonnie and Rogelio had been doing that for a few months, even though they thought they were being subtle. But she never had connected Adora with such a thing.

“What about them?”

“I apparently have this massive crush on someone, and I want to ask them to date me,” Adora muttered into her hands.

An unfamiliar sensation dropped into Catra’s chest. 

“That’s cool,” her voice echoed in her head, “who is it?”

“Well, she’s smart and funny and clever and nice and super pretty and her eyes are beautiful and her hair is so soft and…” Adora let out with a dopey sigh, a dreamy smile on her face.

Catra resisted the urge to punch the wall. She was all of those things! And what was so great about dating anyway? Why did this mystery person have to interfere in her perfectly good relationship with Adora?

“Wow, sounds like you’re drooling over this person. If you like her so much, why are you sitting in a closet with me instead of asking her out?” A trace of bite slipped in at the end.

“I’m nervous, okay! I’ve never done this before!” Adora pulled her knees up to her chest. “And I’m afraid she’s gonna say no.”

“Adora, she’s gonna say yes.”

“How do you know that!?”

Catra sighed, “Because, everything you just described about her applies to you too. Also, everyone loves you; you’re perfect.”

“You think I’m perfect?” Adora’s eyes shone.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Uh yeah, I just said that. And if they say no,” She bared her fangs and unsheathed her claws, “I’ll make them regret it.”

At this, Adora burst into laughter, doubling over as she filled the room with her melodic voice. Catra jokingly growled at her, “You don’t think I’m serious? If she says no, I’ll make sure no one finds her body.”

Adora pulled herself together. “It’s not that. It’s you- I mean her- I mean you- I mean-” She sucked in a deep breath. “Do you want to date me?”

Catra mockingly clapped at Adora. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Just ask her the exact same thing.”

Adora facepalmed. “Catra,” she slowly said, “do you want to date me?”

Oh?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh.

While she did love Adora and wanted to spend every second with her, Catra didn’t understand what separated that love from wanting to date Adora. She didn’t know if she wanted to date Adora, based on what little she understood about relationships. Other people talked about ‘feeling butterflies’ or feeling nauseous around someone they had a crush on, but Catra didn’t know what did and did not qualify as a crush. She’d certainly never felt these ‘butterflies’ or like she was going to be sick around Adora.

As she reflected on every interaction she could remember having with Adora, she found a few instances where she might’ve reacted in the right way towards Adora, for it to be interpreted as a crush. So she took those moments and ran with them.

“Yeah,” Catra gave a casual shrug, “I do.” 

Given time, she definitely could. Maybe she already did, and she just didn’t know what it felt like. Or maybe she would once she started seeing Adora as her girlfriend and not just her best friend.

Adora squealed and dragged Catra into a big hug. “Yay!” Then she pulled back with a blush on her face. “Do you want to, uh, kiss me?”

Catra blinked.

Kissing Adora? That might be alright. And kissing is what good girlfriends (supposedly) did, and if Catra wanted to one day be a good girlfriend to Adora, she needed to know how to kiss her.

Catra shrugged again. “Sure.”

They both leaned in and quite literally smashed their faces together. Catra’s nose smooshed against Adora’s bigger nose. Their foreheads banged off each other. The ‘kiss’ was a split second of their lips touching.

Catra yelped as she cradled her nose in her hands. Kissing was the worst! 

Adora began to giggle as she also held her bruised nose. “We are so bad at this.” Once her bruised ego had recovered, Catra joined her in laughing at their pathetic attempt. 

“Do you want to do it again?” Adora had a determined look in her eye. “I promise I’ll get it right this time.”

Catra dumbly nodded her head, too focused on trying to remember if she had felt anything in the fraction of the second they had actually kissed. As Adora leaned in for her second attempt, Catra hoped she would feel something this time.

Adora softly held her chin in one hand, keeping her steady as she lightly brushed Catra’s lips with her own. It felt...nice. A small ball of warmth bloomed in Catra’s chest at the sensation; maybe this was what people were talking about when they mentioned butterflies. She couldn’t help the small smile that grew on her face.

Adora leaned back with a similar look. “Better this time?”

“Yeah.”

Adora took her hand again. “Good.”

And then they were walking through the halls of the Fright Zone, hand in hand.

Catra frowned. This felt nice. Really nice. Tooth-achingly nice.

But it wasn’t real. And not in the sense that it was a memory being replayed through the weird simulation technology. 

No, it wasn’t real because this never happened . Adora never asked if Catra wanted to date her when they were teenagers. Neither of them had confessed their feelings until a month ago. This was some weird fever dream.

But then how was it a part of the simulation? She never had a dream about what just happened. Maybe it was one of Adora’s?

She looked at her girlfriend. Her terrifyingly powerful and beautiful girlfriend. “Hey Adora? Did that last memory feel weird to you? As in, it never actually happened?”

Adora frowned as well and scratched her head with her free hand. “Yeah,  I don’t remember it either. Everything felt off, too. Like when we were talking, or when the lights flickered, or when we touched each other, my senses felt...hazy. Like instead of experiencing the actual thing, I was experiencing what I thought I was supposed to be feeling. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Catra hummed, “It sorta does. I’m guessing that was a dream you had or something? Because it wasn’t one of mine.”

“Nope. If it had been a dream, I would have dreamed us as being much better kissers.” Adora’s small, goofy grin slipped away. “Okay, this is getting a little creepy. The first two simulations we both remember happening, so how can there be a simulation of an event that never happened?”

Catra shivered as another gust of wind - seriously, how was that possible underground? - blew through.

And for the second time today, the Black Garnet loomed in front of her.

She blinked and they were standing inside Shadow Weaver’s sanctum, the woman in question towering over them in front of her desk. Catra risked a glance at Adora, who looked exactly the same age as the previous fever dream, except her face was sheet white. Strangely, they were holding hands, even in front of Shadow Weaver.

Again, Catra was completely confused. This never happened. She never dated Adora in the past, and they were never called into Shadow Weaver’s office together. In fact, she had never been called into this room during her teenage years; that had been around the time Shadow Weaver stopped seeing her as a punching bag and rather something to be ignored as much as possible, devoting her full attention to Adora.

“What do you think you’re doing?” For the second time today, Shadow Weaver’s oily voice oozed those words out.

Adora gulped. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, ma’am.”

“Oh Adora,” Shadow Weaver sighed, “I raised you to be smarter than this. You know exactly what I am talking about.”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong!” Adora’s grip tightened around Catra’s hand.

“Is that so? Then why are you reacting so defensively?” Adora tried to stammer out a response, but Shadow Weaver cut her off. “If you truly believed your attachment to Catra was nothing to be ashamed of, you would not respond with such anger.”

“I’m not-” Adora took a deep breath, “I am not angry. Other cadets are allowed to date each other, so Catra and I are doing nothing wrong by dating each other.”

Shadow Weaver clucked her tongue. “Yes, other cadets are allowed to; however, you are not.”

“But that’s not fair!” Adora exploded. 

“The other cadets are allowed to do so because they have no potential. They are replaceable, worthless, simply warm bodies for the Horde’s war machine. But you ,” Shadow Weaver leered at Adora, “have so much potential. You are special . And so I will not allow you to be distracted by your attachments.”

Adora’s hand crushed Catra’s in its grip. “Catra isn’t a distraction! She makes me happy! She makes me a better person!”

Shadow Weaver sighed. “And yet in the past two minutes you have been more disrespectful to me than you have in your entire life. It is clear to me that Catra is a corrupting influence on you, one that must be removed.”

“I’m sorry,” Adora’s voice trembled in a decidingly un-Adora way, “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I promise I’ll be better. But please ,” her voice broke, “don’t do anything to Catra. It wasn’t her fault! I asked her to date me!”

Shadow Weaver abruptly leaned against her desk, pressing one clawed hand to her mask. “I see,” she muttered to herself, Catra’s ears just barely able to hear her. “That is...unfortunate.” She smoothly rose to her full height, drifting to stand in front of Adora, one hand reaching out to cup Adora’s cheek. “The Horde has high expectations for you, Adora. We are all expecting you to live up to them, and I will do everything in my power to ensure you do so. I know you are fond of Catra, so against my better judgement, I will allow her to stay.” Catra released a tightly held breath.

Shadow Weaver drifted to stand behind them. “However, your attachments to her are dangerous, and so they must be purged.”

Her cold fingertips touched the backs of their heads.

Searing red lightning filled the room, quickly followed by screaming. 

Catra wished it was only as bad as the previous memory, when Shadow Weaver’s magic had paralzyed her. Then, the pain had been passive; the magic prevented her body from functioning, but did not actively hurt her. Now, the lightning burrowed its way under her skin, digging into her head, until all she could hear was the crackle of electricity and all she could see was the burning red.

And then she was lost to the angry void, where time and sensation disappeared, and all she knew was hellish pain.

Bits and pieces of a melodic laugh drifted through, but whenever Catra tried to focus on them, they turned to dust. A sorrowful scream ripped through the void, eliciting a strange feeling in Catra’s chest. It hurt to hear such a tragic sound, but she did not understand why it hurt. Eventually, that too disappeared into the void, until there was complete and utter silence.

Catra tried to focus on Adora: her beautiful laugh, her striking eyes, her vibrant hair, her undying love. Then she frowned at the woman in her head. She meant something to Catra, but she didn’t remember why. The image turned fuzzy, its features turning into shadow before dissipating altogether.

What had Catra been thinking about again?

Who was Catra?

What was her name?

Was- 

What was she thinking about?

She - whoever she was - drifted in the void. When the red storm around her surged, she dimly registered the sensation it left. She didn’t remember what it felt like.

She didn’t remember anything.

Then Catra stood in a dark room, shrouded with red. Her cheeks felt sticky, and her vision blurred, but she didn’t remember why that was. Her muscles deeply ached, and she wondered why or how she was still standing up. She definitely had a splitting headache.

A woman sat at a desk, muttering to herself as she shuffled sheets of paper around. She seemed vaguely familiar, and when she spoke, her voice blurred, as if Catra were underwater. “Ah, you’re awake.” 

The woman glided out of her seat to stand in front of her, gripping her chin with cold fingers and tilting her head back. Her unfocused eyes stared at the red mask above her. The woman hummed and let go of her chin. A blur of motion registered in her peripheral vision, but she did not turn to find its source.

The woman returned to her desk. “The two of you are dismissed. Return to your quarters and go to sleep. After all, you’ve had quite the challenging day.”

Catra mechanically turned and exited the room, a pair of footsteps following her. 

Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.

On the next ‘right’, everything fell apart.

The murky shadows of the Fright Zone instantly blossomed into colorful, vibrant shades. A low groan came from behind her. Catra found a tall blonde woman looking at her. Well, her brilliant blue eyes were glazed over, staring at a spot over Catra’s right shoulder, but she was looking in her general direction.

The fog slowly cleared from their eyes, which began to frantically dart around as the woman spun several times. When they landed on Catra, the woman let out a heart wrenching sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stumbled over to Catra, steadying herself by grabbing Catra’s hands.

“Catra?” The woman’s voice cut straight to her heart, “Do you remember me? Do you still...love me?”

Catra stared at her striking face, eyes drawn to four fresh cuts over the woman’s right eye. She looked down at her hands, which peeked out from the woman’s larger ones. Claws - just the right size to leave those marks - extended from her fingertips.

The sight triggered an avalanche of emotions to crash over her. In a split second, Catra processed everything that had just happened. She couldn’t look up from their hands, all of her (little) energy devoted to attempting to process things without her mind breaking down. When she finally felt stable enough to look up, she had to suck in a deep breath, having forgotten to breathe in those few moments.

Catra dropped her head against Adora’s chest, choking out dry sobs as she held onto Adora tight. Adora’s tears rained down on her head, sliding down her forehead and dripping onto her nose. They crushed each other in their embrace.

Neither of them said a word, too afraid to confront their world being shattered. They didn’t want to think about the implications of this latest, horrid memory. They just wanted to let the pain out. 

An unfamiliar noise sounded somewhere to her right, and it spoke. “Hello! I am Light Ho-”

Adora pushed Catra back from the figure and shouted, “NO! Leave us alone!” She materialized her sword, unleashing a devastating smash that cut through the floor and shook the room.

The blue-white figure flickered once, then reformed next to the pile of rubble. “Hello! I am Light Hope.”

Adora brought her sword up for another attack, but paused. “Wait, Light Hope? The one I saw in my vision?”

The figure nodded. “Yes, as the administrator of this facility, my purpose is to train and guide She-Ra. I have been waiting for you since you discovered the sword.”

Catra stepped back into the conversation. “So you’re in charge of this place?”

“That is correct.”

“Okay,” she grimaced before baring her teeth, “then why the fuck do you hate me so much? Why did you make me relive all of those horrible memories?”

Light Hope cocked her head to the side. “I cannot hate you, as I am not programmed to do so. However, I will apologize for recent events; many of my systems have been offline for centuries, but when She-Ra activated the rune on the entrance, these systems automatically powered online, and I am only now able to control them.”

“So everything we saw was real?” Adora tentatively asked.

“No, you were merely experiencing a simulation of data pulled from your mainframe.”

“I know that! I meant, everything we saw, did it happen in real life? Because there were memories we experienced that neither of us remember.”

Catra’s stomach sunk at the reminder. An unpleasant explanation began to grow in the back of her mind, one she deeply wished was wrong, even though she knew Shadow Weaver was certainly evil enough to do so.

“All of the data in the simulations was pulled from your mainframes. So yes, everything did happen.”

Adora dropped her sword, the metal clattering off the ground. She clenched her fists, and her breathing became sporadic. “Shadow Weaver, she actually-”

Light Hope cut in. “I do not understand why you are asking for the clarification of events that you witnessed. Did you not already know this?”

“No I didn’t know this!” Adora screamed. Her hands yanked on the roots of her hair, her eyes watering. “If I did, I wouldn’t have let her hurt Catra anymore! But I did!”

“Adora, stop!” Catra rushed over to yank Adora’s hands out of her hair. “It wasn’t your fault! Shadow Weaver erased our minds. She’s the bad guy. She always has been.”

Her words got through to Adora, who stopped resisting Catra's grip. When she was sure that her girlfriend had calmed down, Catra let go. Adora snatched her sword back up, snapping it back into a vambrace on her forearm.

“Can you let us out of here?” She asked Light Hope. “I need to go back to the Fright Zone.”

“You can’t!” Catra jumped in front of her. “That’s where Shadow Weaver is!”

Adora’s eyes burned so intensely that Catra took an involuntary step back. “I know.”

“I agree with your companion. It is illogical to go near Shadow Weaver, given her previous actions. If she were to successfully mindwipe you once again, she could cause unthinkable damage to Ethernia by having control of She-Ra.”

“I know,” Adora repeated, “but she hurt Catra! She hurt me! I won’t let her get away with it!”

“We don’t have to go back!” Catra pleaded. “We can do whatever we want. We can leave the Horde, make our own life!” But she knew this was a doomed plea from the start.

Adora looked down at the floor. “I can’t just leave . It’s still my destiny to save Etheria from the princesses. Without me, the Horde doesn’t stand a chance. I can’t leave Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio, and thousands of other soldiers like them to die to the princesses because I’m scared .”

“I can’t lose you again!”

Adora surged forward and hugged Catra tight. “And you never will. I’m She-Ra. I can do anything .”

Light Hope attempted to resist. “This course of action is illogical. You will gain little by confronting Shadow Weaver.”

Adora untangled herself from Catra and stepped forward, eyes glowing. “I have to. I’m going to make her confess, and then I’m going to make sure she never hurts us again.” 

Light Hope sighed. “Very well. If you are committed to this course of action, the exit is behind you.” She waved one translucent hand, and a doorway of pure white formed behind them.

“Wait!” Catra remembered why they had fallen into this hellhole in the first place. “Do you have any First Ones tech we can bring back with us? One of our...friends needs it for some experiment. After all the shit you put me through, it’s the least you can do.”

“I can give you the relics you seek,” Light Hope flickered, “Under the condition that Adora returns to me to begin her training once her vendetta with Shadow Weaver is fulfilled.”

Adora was already walking away from the other two. “Yeah sure, whatever. Where’s the tech?” The floor in front of her shimmered, and a disk as wide as She-Ra was tall appeared. “Oh, there it is!” She casually lifted it onto its side and rolled it over to the doorway. “You coming Catra?”

“Yeah!” Catra half turned her head. “I’ll be right behind you.” Adora disappeared through the doorway.

Catra took one last look at Light Hope. There was something...off about the hologram, more than just her stilted speech pattern. No, she seemed too good, too nice, too helpful. Maybe Light Hope actually was a servant of She-Ra, and so that was why she was being super nice to Adora. 

But Catra remembered the flashes of white that seemed to follow them through the ruins, the blurs of motion that lacked any real substance. This place was creepy, and if Light Hope was the administrator of the place, then she was extra creepy. 

She shivered as she stepped through the doorway.

------------------------------------------------------------

Once Catra exited the Crystal Castle, Light Hope deactivated the entrance. If she had been programmed to feel pleasure, she would have been quite pleased with her work today.

The physical manifestation of Catra’s fears resulting in Adora’s disfigurement? Entirely unintentional, but highly effective, especially on Adora’s psyche. 

Catra’s breakdown after the second simulation? Completely intentional and highly effective.

Of course, not all of the credit could be given to Light Hope’s programming. After all, for as well as Shadow Weaver had trained Adora to be a loyal soldier, she had left countless scars on both of her protégés. It had been a simple task to create the precise stimuli needed for the desired reaction.

Giving the Horde a piece of intact Eternian technology was a small price to pay in Light Hope’s much larger directive. With it, Hordak would be able to create a stabilized portal, but without the key to Etheria, which lay buried in Mara’s tomb, deep in the Crimson Waste, the portal would never pierce through space and time. When the Heart of Etheria was finally activated, and the Horde wiped out once and for all, Light Hope would send her machines to retrieve the technology.

Light Hope analyzed her conversation with Adora. Based on her database of human behavior - which was only one thousand years out of date - and Adora’s reactions, she confidently concluded that the desired effect had been achieved: Adora’s relationship with Shadow Weaver was permanently severed. 

She did not share the same reservations that Catra did. Having analyzed Adora’s past performances as She-Ra, any conflict between her and Shadow Weaver was a foregone conclusion. As twisted and talented a sorcerer as Shadow Weaver was, she was nothing compared to the glory of She-Ra.

Adora would return, and when she did, Light Hope would groom her for her true purpose. 

Chapter Text

Adora’s stomach lurched, projecting a freshly swallowed lump of ration bar up her throat. She coughed into her fist as it caught in her throat, before quickly swallowing it back down. Catra shot a worried glance her way, but when Adora gave a dismissive wave, she begrudgingly let the incident slide.

Adora bitterly stared down at the last few bites of her grey ration bar before tossing it to the side. Every nibble was a war of attrition, her stomach in open rebellion against the slightest hint of nourishment. She didn’t blame it; after the horrific visions in the ruin, her appetite had all but died. And more importantly...she didn’t deserve to eat with what they had learned.

In the physical world, her eyes noted the grey metal of the skiff’s deck, the grey crumbs of the ration bar, her blood-red jacket billowing in the shallow breeze. But in her mind, all she could see was a never-ending loop of all the signs of Shadow Weaver’s abuse on Catra, signs that she had failed to recognize. 

The countless times Catra had woken her up in the middle of the night when they were kids with frenetic scrabbling, only to brush off her concerns with a casual comment about ‘needing to stretch’. The dark bags under her eyes that came and went, which Catra said were a thing that happened to hybrids like her (even though there was no one else like Catra), but it should have been glaringly obvious to Adora that she wasn’t getting enough sleep and was stressed out of her mind. 

And why wouldn’t she be? Shadow Weaver had threatened to kill Catra when she was 6! She had taken the fall for Adora’s mistake, suffered for it, and how did Adora respond? She told Catra to be more respectful, that it wasn’t that bad. She had blamed Catra for being abused.

The four new gouges along her eye twitched with a slight stinging sensation, a lasting reminder of just how deep Shadow Weaver had hurt Catra.

She would never recover from finding Catra curled up in a tight ball, having a panic attack. The tremors that rocked her body in time with Adora’s footsteps. The way her entire body shook at the slightest sound, even something as quiet as the rustling of shifting fabric. The blood slowly rolling down her bicep from the cuts Catra had inflicted on herself. The fear in her eyes as she shakily glanced up at Adora. The deluge of tears that had soaked through her shirt.

Adora nearly hurled again.

She remembered all of the times Catra flinched at a seemingly gentle touch when the other person wasn’t in her field of vision. The way she clung to Adora every waking moment. Back then, she had thought that Catra just really liked being around her; after all, they had promised to always be best friends. But now she remembered the entirety of Shadow Weaver’s threat: I’ve only kept you around this long because Adora is fond of you.

Adora was a terrible person. Too self-centered to really care about how her best friend was feeling. Maybe in the back of her mind, Adora had always known the truth about how Shadow Weaver had treated Catra, but she’d been too much of a coward to stand up. Too selfishly concerned with being Shadow Weaver’s favorite, first in line for promotion to Force Captain. 

Her nails dug crescent moons into her palms. They weren’t sharp enough to draw blood, but enough to create dull pinpricks of pain. She deserved worse for what she’d allowed to happen to Catra, but she could begin her penance now.

The deck shuddered beneath her feet as the skiff came to a stop. She dumbly blinked in surprise when she saw the edge of the Fright Zone still on the horizon. Catra stood over her with a worried expression, before gracefully, but slowly, sinking down in front of her. Without saying a word, she pulled Adora’s fists apart.

Catra’s soft, warm hands soothed Adora somewhat. Still, she couldn’t find the courage to meet Catra’s gaze.

Catra firmly squeezed her hands. 

“C’mon, talk to me. You haven’t said a word since we got up this morning.”

“I’m fine.” Her eyes flicked to the side.

“Adora,” Catra sighed, “You’ve been staring at the same rivet in the deck for the last half hour, you could barely eat one ration bar before throwing it on the ground, and you looked like you were about to start punching something.” 

She flashed a disarming smile as one of her hands cupped Adora’s face. 

“Also, you were doing that thing when you get super focused on something, where your jaw gets all clenched and your face scrunches up.”

Adora involuntarily leaned into Catra’s grasp, eyes flickering shut for a few moments. 

She wished it was that simple: just talk to the person who understood and loved her most about the crushing avalanche of pressure she was experiencing. How the one maternal figure she had ever had turned out to be manipulating and abusing both of them their entire lives, with Catra receiving the worst of it. How she felt like a complete failure for allowing Shadow Weaver to abuse both of them. How she desperately wanted to take Catra up on her plea to run away from this life, to simply go and be happy - yet knowing that if she did, the guilt would be so intense that she wouldn’t be truly happy. 

How being She-Ra was both the greatest blessing she could have ever received and yet the most terrible curse. How she loved her power, her strength, her purpose. How she was going to save the world and be a hero. How she hated being shackled to a life that had been chosen for her. How she always had to do more, be stronger and smarter and tougher and never complain and always be the best and train more and study more and never ask for anything and be a weapon not a person and-

Adora stiffened when Catra hugged her tight, her head slotting perfectly in the crook of Catra’s neck. A shaky breath escaped from her lips as her body slowly relaxed in Catra’s warm embrace. 

“Don’t bottle it all up,” Catra murmured into her hair, “You’ll only feel worse; trust me, I know. Just let me help you, okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

With Catra’s hands wrapped around her, Adora was free to clench her fists once again. “I feel like a complete failure and a terrible person for letting Shadow Weaver abuse you. I should’ve done more to protect you.”

Catra’s embrace became a little too tight. “Adora, don’t .”

“But I-”

“ No. You are not going to blame yourself for what Shadow Weaver did. She chose to hurt me, not you. And she, “ Catra stuttered, “she hurt you too. So don’t act like you’ve lived a perfect life while I was suffering all the time.”

Adora frowned as she remembered bits and pieces of the simulations in the ruins. “But she listened to me! I could have asked her to stop, to treat you fairly. But I never did!”

Catra scoffed. “Do you really think Shadow Weaver would have listened to you? She’s the second in command of the entire Horde. The only person she answers to is Hordak, but he lets her run the entire thing. We were just kids; there was nothing we could have done.”

“I could have at least tried!”

“And you probably did. But when Shadow Weaver told you ‘no’ like I’m sure she did, you got angry and protested, and she couldn’t accept not having control over you. So she erased your mind. We know she’s evil enough to do that.”

Adora flinched as she remembered the lightning digging through her scalp and into her mind. How many memories had been burned away? How many times did she do something that went against Shadow Weaver’s plans for her? How many times was she summoned to Shadow Weaver’s sanctum and forced to experience the most horrific pain of her life, only to forget it ever happened?

How much of her life was a lie?

She must have been quiet for too long, because Catra pulled back from their embrace, keeping Adora steady with her hands on her shoulders. She accidentally met Catra’s gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault; it was never your fault. I don’t blame you, and I never will.” Catra said.

One of the crushing weights on Adora’s shoulders dissipated. There was still enough stress to last a lifetime, however. 

Catra crawled over and sat next to Adora, leaning into her side. “You still want to do this?” She gestured at the horizon, where the edges of the Fright Zone just barely came into view. 

Adora’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, even though there’s a massive pit in my stomach every time I think about it. I want to run away with you and live for once in my life. But there are thousands of people in the Horde that don’t have that opportunity, that are counting on me to save the day, even if they don’t know it yet. It’d be selfish of me to leave.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being selfish, and if anyone has earned the right to be, it’s you! You single-handedly conquered Salineas after years of failed sieges! How many lives did you save in just one day?” Catra gesticulated frenziedly. “You deserve to be happy! You should do stuff because you want to, not because you’re guilted into it!”

Adora blinked in surprise. She’d never seen Catra so passionate.

Catra kept going. “Don’t let Shadow Weaver’s bullshit convince you that if the world isn’t perfect, it’s your fault and you need to fix every problem before you’re allowed to be happy! Because the world is never going to be perfect, but you deserve to be happy regardless!”

“That’s part of the problem,” Adora somehow slumped even further, “The princesses and royalty are bad for Etheria, so I’d be hurting people by not fighting and letting them stay in power. But,” she remembered how casually Shadow Weaver had tortured them, “if the Horde wins and takes power, and people like Shadow Weaver are in control, how is that any better?”

Catra took her time as she ran her gaze over Adora’s face, before glancing away. “You should be in charge.” Her muttered comment held none of the snark Adora would have expected.

When Adora started, she clarified. “I know you said that you just want to help people and that you don’t care about power, but you also said that if you’re the best person for the job, you would take it. And it sounds like all of the other options for ‘ruler of Etheria’ kinda suck.”

Adora gave a nervous laugh. “Me? Ruler of Etheria? Catra, when I said that, I meant doing odd jobs, manual labor, dirty work, stuff like that. Not ruling the world!”

“Why not? Of all the candidates, you are the only one I would want ruling the world.”

Adora good naturedly rolled her eyes and elbowed Catra, who squawked in indignation. “You’re biased! You’re literally in love with me!”

“Yeah, I am.” Catra had a dreamy smile on her face, but it quickly shifted into a frown as she averted her eyes. “Look, I know when we talked, I said that I wanted more power, more respect. But please don’t think I’m just telling you this just so that I can selfishly have what I want. I really do think you would make a good ruler. Definitely better than anyone else could.”

“No I’m not,” Adora ducked her head in shame, “I was Force Captain for only a few months, and even then, my squadron was only you and Scorpia. I couldn’t command a group of hundred soldiers, much less an entire nation or the world . Hordak knew that; that’s why he demoted me and promoted you.”

Catra scoffed. “Hordak only did that because he’s trying to play politics against Shadow Weaver. Anyone who knows the two of us knows that you’re the far better leader than I am. He just wants control over She-Ra. Why else would he promote some random foot soldier over Shadow Weaver’s favorite; the woman who single-handedly conquered Salineas?”

Adora’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand why he would need to do that. He’s the Lord of the Horde; I’m loyal to him!”

“Yeah, but you’re also loyal to Shadow Weaver. Except you’re probably more loyal to her because she raised and trained you for your entire life. As shitty of a person as she is, she’s like our mother. And if you ever had to choose between Shadow Weaver and Hordak…”

Oh.

“Well that won’t be a problem anymore,” Adora’s nails dug into her palms again, “I’m done taking orders from Shadow Weaver.”

Catra fidgeted with one of the sleeves of Adora’s jacket. “So how are you going to confront her exactly? Even if she confesses - which I highly doubt - what then? Hordak is the only person with authority over her, and he’s allowed her to be his second in command for decades . If Shadow Weaver knows that we know the truth, we can’t let her stay. But we also can’t just remove Hordak’s top commander and expect everything to be fine; we have no proof that Shadow Weaver erased our minds!”

A pang of fear shot through Adora’s heart. “We can’t do nothing! We can’t just act like everything is okay! What if she finds out we’re in love again, and erases our minds?” 

This time when she clenched her fists, she drew blood. 

“I can’t lose you again!”

Catra wrapped her left arm around Adora, pulling her into another tight hug. She pressed a soft kiss to Adora’s forehead. The two lovers sat in nervous silence, desperately trying to come up with a solution.

Then a gleam entered Catra’s eyes.

 “ Unless ,” she slowly said, “we frame it as Shadow Weaver trying to maintain total control over She-Ra, that she can’t be trusted. She can manipulate you into doing whatever she wants if she can control what you remember. She would be a threat to Hordak if she wasn’t stopped.”

“That...could work. But how do we prove it?” 

Adora let out a frustrated groan and raked one hand through her hair.

“Arguing ‘Shadow Weaver erased our minds, but long forgotten First Ones tech was able to find and replay those memories, even though they should be gone’ doesn’t sound like a very good defense for killing his second in command.”

Catra echoed her frustration. “Yeah, Shadow Weaver is just too untouchable!” 

“Maybe...maybe I use She-Ra as a bargaining chip with Hordak. He needs me to win the war, and he knows that I am completely loyal to him. I think.” 

Adora frowned.

“I mean, I am loyal to him!” she hastily clarified, “It’s just that I don’t really know him like I do Shadow Weaver, since he’s so reclusive. And even though he’s a good leader, he’s let Shadow Weaver run the Horde this whole time! A good leader wouldn’t let someone as evil as her command an army,” she bit her lip, “right?”

Catra had a similarly pensive expression. “I don’t think they would, but we know nothing about Hordak outside of the basic propaganda that’s put out. Shadow Weaver could be lying to him, but how could she keep it up for decades? Maybe he knows and doesn’t care.” 

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “You know, ‘the ends justify the means’ and all that.”

That didn’t sound right, but Hordak wasn’t the issue at hand.

“Maybe I should just confront Shadow Weaver and kill her,” Adora grimly muttered. “Even if she didn’t confess, I could lie and say that she did. I could let her get a few hits in with her magic; make it look like she started the fight!”

“That’s a great plan,” Catra sighed, “but, you can’t lie your way out of a paper bag. You really think you could craft a masterful lie? Enough to convince Hordak? Because if we get caught, it doesn’t matter how important She-Ra is: we wouldn’t be safe in the Horde anymore.”

“I don’t want to lie to Hordak, but if it’s between us and Shadow Weaver, he’s going to trust Shadow Weaver.”

The dam behind her eyes broke, and Adora began to cry. “Why am I so stupid ?” she spat. “We have the perfect opportunity to go and be free and I’m fucking it up! There is absolutely nothing stopping us from leaving this stupid war behind, but instead I’m making us stay and try to fix an impossible situation!”

“You are not stupid.” Catra tightened her embrace, bringing in her other arm to fully hug Adora, “you just have the biggest heart in the world. And that is why I think you would make a good ruler. You’re so selfless that it’s frustrating at times. Like right now.” 

She lifted one hand for a moment to gesture at the open fields around them.

 “You’re right: there is nothing stopping us from leaving. If it were just me, I’d already be gone. But you want to stay because you’re worried about hurting people who don’t even know you exist, and because you want to save the world, even if it tears you apart in the process.”

She reached over and wiped away the tears streaming down Adora’s face. “I’m not going to lie and say I want to go back, but I know that this is the best way for you to be happy. I trust you to do the right thing; no matter what, I’ll always be by your side. I don’t care who tries to stand between us: no one is taking you away from me again.”

Adora slumped into Catra’s embrace. 

“But what if I fail, or we can’t convince Hordak, and you get hurt or die and it’ll be all my fault because I made us go back and I wasn’t good enough and-”

Catra firmly covered Adora’s mouth with her hand, muffling the rest of her stream of consciousness. 

“You are not going to fail.” 

With her other hand, she squeezed Adora’s shoulder and stared into her eyes. 

“I know you’ll protect me,” she continued, “The whole world could be against us and I would still feel safe. Because the only limits to your power are the ones you think you have. You are She-Ra, and you can do anything.”

Adora’s breaths slowly found a steady rhythm, matching the faint echoes of Catra’s heartbeat. She...she could do this. She had allowed Shadow Weaver to take their love away once. She couldn’t fail again. Wouldn’t. 

She was She-Ra.

------------------------------------------------------------

The dying echoes of the skiff’s engine slowly faded into nothingness, an unnerving silence filling the vehicle bay. Dreary green light that once comforted Adora now sent a chill down her spine. Neither of them moved to disembark, because once they did, there was no going back. Instead, Catra laid in Adora’s lap, soaking up the last few minutes of private affection they would have for the foreseeable future. 

She stroked her hands through Catra’s mane, occasionally scratching her scalp, as Catra purrs vibrated her body. The moment lacked the rhythm of their usual affection. Catra’s purrs stuttered and varied in pitch; Adora’s hands shook in their motions, and she kept pressing too hard against Catra’s scalp. But they pointedly ignored these flaws.

Adora felt confident that Catra’s shakiness was all nerves. She wished it were that simple for her.

As their skiff had entered the outer edge of the Fright Zone in the middle of the night, the gentle fields of the outside world turning into harsh, twisting, metal buildings, an unpleasant sensation had begun to fester in her chest. 

It burned: not the pleasant burn akin to a campfire that she associated with her love for Catra, nor was it the fire of competition, of success, of recognition. A different kind of burn. This fire inside her felt wrong . It twisted and raged and snapped at the cage that was her heart, desperately trying to break out. And yet a part of her wanted it to.

Her control over her magic had weakened; her vambrace continued to blindingly shine, as it had done for the past two hours. Three times, Adora found herself enveloped in a light, golden halo and was barely able to hold back She-Ra’s transformation.

The worst of it was in her mind. When she thought of her looming confrontation with Shadow Weaver, she did not think of courageously standing up to her abuser, of nobly and impartially enforcing justice.

No. Adora fantasized of getting her revenge for every single moment that Shadow Weaver had hurt her - intended or otherwise - and she had been forced to bury her emotions deep down. Of the countless scars, bruises, and broken bones she had suffered. The mental stress that continued to mount, with Adora just barely able to put on a good enough mask for no one to notice, until it was all just too much - the training, the expectations, the dehumanization, bottling up every emotion that wasn’t acceptable - and she broke. 

The periodic breakdowns where Adora released weeks and months of stress and emotion, all in the span of half an hour. But of course, it would be wrong of her to be seen like this, weak . She had to be the perfect soldier, and having something as shameful as a mental breakdown would be unacceptable. So on the days where she knew that it was all too much, that she needed to vent, Adora would sneak out of their bed in the middle of the night, run a shower, and cry where no one would find her. When she returned to bed, the mask was back on.

Now, Adora tried to pretend that there wasn’t an inferno raging in her chest, that she wasn’t eager to kill Shadow Weaver. 

She buried her face in Catra’s mane. It was all too much; the fire in her chest was growing out of control, and she needed to let it out. She couldn’t bottle it up much longer.

“Catra,” she murmured, “don’t come with me. I can do this myself, and she would use you as leverage against me.” She fidgeted, readjusting one leg. “Also, I...I’m afraid of what I’m going to do. I don’t want you to see that part of me.”

“You,” Catra’s voice croaked, “you’ll do the right thing. Shadow Weaver will get what she deserves. But she’s going to hurt you.”

“I know, but it’ll be for the last time, and it will only be physical. I’m done listening to her lies and mind games. And then,” she pulled Catra tighter, “we’ll be safe.”

They sat in tense silence.

Adora broke it. “Take the First Ones tech to Hordak and Entrapta, and stay there. Don’t go near Shadow Weaver’s sanctum.” 

She flashed a wide smile that felt more like a grimace, even though Catra could not see it.

 “I’ll come get you when it’s done. You’ll know I won when I give you the biggest kiss of your life.”

Catra stiffened in her lap. “And what if you don’t? What if Shadow Weaver somehow wipes your mind and you forget me ? I can’t lose you again!”

Adora’s chest burned a little hotter.

“ If she somehow beats me, which I won’t let happen, that’s why you should stick close to Hordak and Entrapta. One of us has to tell them the truth, and if you’re close to Hordak, Shadow Weaver won’t be able to wipe your mind as well. We can bring Entrapta to the ruins, and she’ll see our proof.”

Catra sat frozen.

“Even if she somehow makes me forget how much I love you, it will only be temporary.” 

Adora unraveled Catra from her lap, bringing her up so that their faces were nearly touching. Catra’s terrified eyes locked onto hers. 

“We don’t know how many times we’ve fallen in love, only for her to make us forget. But Shadow Weaver can never destroy our love; she can only hide it. I will always love you, Catra, no matter what she does. And if I get to fall in love with you one more time,” a few tears slipped from her eyes, Catra mirroring her, “that wouldn’t be so bad.”

Catra broke free of her fear, arms wrapping around Adora as she pulled her into the most passionate kiss of their lives.

Adora’s heart burned so bright that all of her fears and doubts washed away. This would not be the last time they proved to each other the infinite depths of their love. They were going to wake up next to each other everyday for the rest of their lives. They were going to live in a world without fear of losing the other. They were going to be happy . 

The fire in her chest intensified; yet at the same time, it became more disciplined. She saw her purpose, her destiny. Every moment of the past eighteen years had led to this. Every bit of suffering would be avenged today.

In this moment, she had never felt more powerful.

Regretfully, Adora broke their kiss. 

Catra’s eyes fluttered open, cleansed of their fear. She touched their foreheads together.

“Be safe,” she whispered. 

Adora nodded in her embrace, before letting her go.

As Adora disembarked the skiff, she realized that she had a dopey smile on her face. She turned one last time to Catra - before everything changed for the better - and shouted, “I love you!”

“I love you too!” Catra wore a similar smile.

And before she lost her courage and focus, Adora sprinted out of the vehicle bay, towards her destiny.

------------------------------------------------------------

Once she entered the winding corridors of the Fright Zone, Adora slowed to a walking pace. The creeping shadows that ran along the metal surfaces retreated from her power - her runestone lighting up the corridor as if it were daytime. Her stomps echoed off the walls, creating a dull rhythm that Adora’s heartbeat followed.

Four turns away from her sanctum.

She came across the first living people - other than Catra - that she had seen in a week: a pair of guards whose patrol path directly intersected her march. 

One of them, far braver than the other, shouted, “Halt! This is a restricted area!” 

Their bravery quickly wilted when Adora drew closer, the light of her runestone fully illuminating the Force Captain badge pinned to her chest, and when they saw the look on her face, cowed and hurried to stand to the side. She passed without acknowledging their presence.

Three turns away.

A soft golden aura rose from her skin. But unlike the instances aboard the skiff, She-Ra did not try to escape on her own. She contently lurked beneath the surface, ready to be called upon the split second she was needed. Adora’s veins raced with electricity as magic enveloped her entire body, washing away the slightest aches and pains.

Two turns away.

The ghost of Catra’s lips - her love - stayed on her own. Catra would always be with her. 

One turn away.

Shadow Weaver’s fate had been sealed long ago. And while Adora still believed in Hordak, in his vision, if he did not trust them - tried to hurt Catra - she would not hesitate to kill him. Along with anyone else that stood in her way. 

Catra was all that mattered. And with the power of She-Ra, Adora would do anything to protect Catra.

The entrance to Shadow Weaver’s sanctum loomed before her.

Adora crossed the threshold into the room of shadows.

The Black Garnet rippled and cracked with strands of lightning as it always did, but as she entered the chamber, it grew more intense. Shadow Weaver sat behind her heavy oak desk, muttering to herself as she scribbled a note on an intelligence report. Adora’s blood boiled.

Shadow Weaver did not look up as Adora stomped into the center of the room, nor did she start when the ambient noise of the Black Garnet grew in pitch and volume. She knew Adora was here; just another one of her little mind games. As a cadet, Adora would have obediently waited in silence until Shadow Weaver acknowledged her presence. 

Not this time.

“ Shadow Weaver .” 

Despite the low tone, her voice echoed off the walls.

Shadow Weaver’s scribbling stopped, her pen hovering an inch above the paper. Her head shifted ever so slightly, so that two white holes gazed in Adora’s general direction. Another mind game: no one ever knew where she was looking.

Then, with a nearly inaudible sigh, she set her pen down, the faint clack swallowed up by a harsh crackle of electricity. She folded her hands together. 

“I know I raised you with better manners than what you just displayed.” 

“We need to talk.” 

Not that it would change anything, and not that Adora hoped it would.

“I see.” A faint edge entered Shadow Weaver’s voice. She ascended from her chair, her lower body seeming to form out of the shadows themselves. The room grew slightly darker as she drifted towards Adora.

When a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room, Shadow Weaver let out a small gasp. 

“What happened to you?”

She reached out to cup Adora’s face, but Adora took a large step back.

“ Don’t touch me .” 

Her runestone shone a little brighter.

Shadow Weaver clasped her hands. “Now, now,” she tutted, “there is no need to take out your frustrations on me.” 

Oh, she had every right to. 

“Would you inform me as to how you were injured? I have never seen you in such distress.”

Adora forced a sharp breath out of her nose, straining to keep her voice level. “During our last mission for Lord Hordak, Catra and I stumbled upon lost First Ones technology, which made us relive some of our memories. One memory in particular panicked Catra, and when I accidently scared her more, she scratched my eye.”

“Of course she did,” Shadow Weaver scoffed. “She has quite the track record of disregarding the health of others. I am surprised that she would do such a terrible thing to you , however.” 

“She didn’t mean to; it was an accident!” One you caused.

“An accident?” Shadow Weaver incredulously countered. “I have seen many ‘accidents’ in my life, but never have I seen someone with their eye clawed out because of an ‘accident’. Catra is dangerous , and has no regard for the safety of others. I knew as much when she was only six years old and disfigured a Force Captain.”

Adora clenched her fists. “Actually, that was one of the memories we were forced to experience. The one where you witheld medicine from a child with a broken nose.”

“I was lenient with Catra in that moment,” Shadow Weaver brushed off the accusation. “Forcing her to suffer the consequences of her actions was a light punishment considering the weight of her crime. In the rest of the world, such an atrocity would have been met with a much harsher sentence.”

Adora’s chest burned hotter. “The other was when we trespassed in your sanctum as kids, because I wanted to. Where you threatened to kill Catra because of my mistake!”

Again, Shadow Weaver scoffed, and Adora barely restrained herself from bringing out her sword. 

“You didn’t really think that I would do such a thing, did you? Catra simply needed to be scared straight, to understand that her actions have consequences.”

“No!” The room trembled at her voice. “She didn’t deserve any of your abuse. She was just a child!”

A touch of anger entered Shadow Weaver’s voice. “She was an ungrateful brat who needed to learn respect ! The Horde is much more tolerant of deviants such as her than the rest of the world, but we still demand order. Given Catra’s wild nature, my methods were justified.”

Justified? Adora remembered the terror in Catra’s eyes, the pathetic whimpers, the self-inflicted cuts.  She remembered the harsh ripping of lightning against her skin, a punishment Catra had suffered many times. No one deserved that.

While Adora seethed, Shadow Weaver continued. “Because of my interventions, Catra has, surprisingly, become a productive member of society. If it were not for my guidance, do you really think she would have been promoted to a special position directly under Lord Hordak?”

Adora’s jaw clenched. “No matter what you say, you were wrong.”

Shadow Weaver sighed. “I do not understand where this rebellious streak of yours has come from. You witnessed first hand my disciplining of Catra throughout your childhoods, and never reacted so disrespectfully.”

“You’re right.” A bit of hurt entered Adora’s voice. “I did nothing back then. Because I was selfish, or scared, or because I believed your lies. But I know better now.”

“Is there a point to your dramatics?” Shadow Weaver began to drift back to her desk, “I am rather busy coordinating the entire war effort. Thanks to your victory at Salineas, we have been able to choke off the Rebellion’s supply lines. The war is nearing its end, and if you have nothing of value to contribute, you are dismissed.”

Again, Adora’s voice shook the room.

“ No .”

Shadow Weaver whirled on her, one gaunt finger pointed at Adora’s chest, shadows flaring as the chamber darkened. “You are testing the limits of my patience. Your insolence will not be tolerated. I do not understand why you are acting so childish, but it is unacceptable.”

“You want to know what’s unacceptable?” Adora snarled. “You pretending to be our mother, yet you erased our minds - tortured us - when I fell in love with Catra!”

A heavy silence crashed over the room. The shadows retreated back to the edges of the walls. Even the Black Garnet seemed to be affected, its surface perfectly smooth with no excess magic being released. And Shadow Weaver stood like a statue in the middle of the room.

Her silence confirmed her guilt to Adora, not that there had ever been any doubt. For once in her life, she had the upper hand on Shadow Weaver.

But then Shadow Weaver began to laugh.

Not a small chuckle. A full-throated, uproarious cold laugh that filled the empty room and sent chills down Adora’s spine.

Her veins went white hot. Her runestone began to shine bright enough to push back the shadows at the edges of the room. 

Shadow Weaver was... laughing at her abuse of Adora and Catra. She had left countless scars - both physical and mental - on them, ripped away the most important thing in their lives, and when confronted over her evil actions, Shadow Weaver laughed at her?

Fuck the confession. She was going to kill Shadow Weaver right now, consequences be damned.

But before Adora could break free of her paralyzing anger, Shadow Weaver abruptly stopped. One second mocking their pain, the next returning to the cold blooded manipulator. “My dear, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about .”

Adora froze.

“Am I correct in saying that you believe that you and Catra fell in love in the past, but when I discovered this, I was so obsessive and pure evil that I wiped your minds of that love, but now you have somehow remembered this memory, which I supposedly destroyed?” Shadow Weaver gave a disappointed sigh, “I raised you to be smarter than this. What you are accusing me of makes no logical sense.”

“Stop lying! Every simulation in those ruins was pulled from our memories. I watched you do it!  I felt you ripping my mind apart, until I couldn’t remember anything! You never liked Catra, and you always controlled me, so of course you wouldn’t let us be in love!”

Adora sucked in a deep breath.

“First of all,” Shadow Weaver condescendingly began, “while mind erasing spells do exist, they are permanent. Once a memory has been destroyed, it can never be recovered. So it is impossible for me to have wiped your minds and for you to simultaneously remember the memories destroyed.”

“And much more importantly,” she raked her gaze over Adora, “it is an...overly delicate process, manipulating minds with magic. One wrong touch, and one could forget how to walk or breathe, or become braindead. Given how valuable you are to the Horde, I would never have taken such a risk.”

“I know you’re lying! I know what I saw!”

Shadow Weaver remained infuriatingly calm. “Do you? And where are these ruins, where you supposedly bore witness to my terrible crimes?”

“The Whispering Woods.”

“Ah, so you have had at least three days to be worked up into a righteous fury. Three days with only Catra for company. Catra, who despises me above all else.” Shadow Weaver attempted to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Adora’s ear, but paused when Adora took another step back and scowled at her. “You are acting erratically, my dear. You want so desperately to be right, to be vindicated, for your darkest impulses to be justified. But I am not the villain of this story.”

Adora tuned her out, concentrating on the scorching flow of magic in her veins. Shadow Weaver wasn’t going to confess, was going to play dumb until the very end. No more reason to listen to her drivel then.

Her golden aura grew in intensity as magic flowed into her runestone and-

“If I were as evil as you think, then why have I allowed you and Catra to be in a relationship for the past month?”

WHAT?

Adora stumbled as the flow of magic abruptly died, lungs refusing to breathe as she staggered from the revelation.

Shadow Weaver... knew they were dating ? No no no, that couldn’t be right. They had kept their affection private, only in the confines of their room. The room that they had slept together in two months before confessing their love, an arrangement Shadow Weaver had never acknowledged.

Shadow Weaver had to be lying. She must have assumed from Adora’s changed behavior that her relationship with Catra had turned into something more. She couldn’t actually know they were in love. She couldn’t. That didn’t make any sense.

“Not the revelation you were expecting?” Shadow Weaver chuckled. “Did you really think the two of you are competent at hiding your feelings? It was glaringly obvious.”

Adora gaped, mouth opening and closing, but her mind refused to work.

“Despite whatever prejudices the two of you have towards me, I have done nothing wrong. All I have done is raise the savior of Etheria!” Her voice turned sickly sweet. “But I acknowledge that for all of She-Ra’s power, you are still mortal and thus have mortal desires. Although I disagree with your choice, if Catra satisfies those desires, then you are welcome to have her. So long as she does not interfere with your destiny.” 

Shadow Weaver’s phrasing snapped Adora out of her shock. ‘Have her’? Like Catra was just an object, a toy for Adora to use? Like she wasn’t her own person with her own thoughts and feelings and dreams? Like their love was something that Adora could just take , and not something beautiful that was mutually reciprocated?

A feral growl grew in her throat, and in a flash of light, her sword materialized in her hands.

Shadow Weaver took an immediate step back. “Adora,” she tried, but failed to keep a stern tone, “what do you think you are doing? This is treason!”

“No. It’s not,” Adora spat out. “I am still loyal to Lord Hordak, to the Horde. Just not you .”

Shadow Weaver brought a hand up to her chest. “ I am the Horde! I am the reason we are so close to victory, why the princesses did not overrun us long ago. While Hordak was hiding in his throne room, I worked tirelessly to bring Etheria to its knees.” 

She became more confident as she continued. “Without me, everything the Horde has achieved will be lost. Hordak will never be able to return to his world, and he will blame you .”

The Black Garnet exploded back to life, the entire surface rippling with electricity. Adora’s sword gleamed with ethereal light as a golden aura enveloped her body. The chamber flooded with magic.

“The only thing you’ve said that isn’t a lie is that you raised the savior of Etheria,” Adora smirked, “I will save this world. But I don’t need you to do it. I’m going to make the world a better place, and that starts with killing monsters like you!”

The red gem in Shadow Weaver’s mask gleamed with crimson light, and in a split second, a void of shadows erupted behind the sorceress. The wall of darkness snuffed out the blinding light of the Black Garnet, until Adora stood alone in an empty void.

The light in the dark.

Adora grinned as she shifted on the balls of her feet. She lifted her sword to the heavens and cried out.

“For the honor of Grayskull!”

When her transformation finished, she left her head uncovered. Her helmet would only hinder her when she needed as much vision as possible. But it didn’t matter; Shadow Weaver didn’t have a chance against her.

Unlike Shadow Weaver, Adora didn’t need to hide behind a mask.

She calmly kept a loose base, slowly turning to her right as she found opaque darkness in every direction, except for a small sphere around her illuminated by her aura.

“You dare challenge me?” a voice hissed through the shadows. “The first and only sorcerer to bend a runestone to their will? The only one bold enough to learn the true secrets of magic? The greatest sorceress who ever lived?”

“It doesn’t matter what you are,” Adora taunted. “I am She-Ra, and you are not.”

A faint crackle sounded behind her, and she whirled just in time to spot a bolt of crimson lightning shooting at her. She swiftly brought her sword up, blocking the blast with ease.

“Stop hiding!” Adora shouted into the void. “We both know you can’t beat me!”

“Is that so?” the voice sounded to her right, as another lightning strike came from her left. “I am the master of magics that you could not even begin to comprehend. You are nothing but a brute with a sword!”

Adora kept smiling as she dodged the blast. “All I need is my sword.”

The next time Shadow Weaver attacked, her magic was so powerful that the black void turned blood-red as the blast bore down on Adora. She braced herself for the pain she was about to inflict on herself.

Defying all logic, battle strategy, and Horde tactics, Adora charged head-on into the crackling flood of electricity.

She raised her sword as the blast made contact, only able to absorb some of the energy. The rest surged past and flooded into her, making her muscles seize up as a sickening burning sensation began to spread through her body, even through her armor. 

Even as her body screamed in outrage, Adora charged ahead. This was nothing compared to the pain of losing Catra.

The infinite darkness around her began to dissipate as Shadow Weaver’s magic intensified, just enough that Adora could make out the faint edges of her robes, glowing with maroon light. Even as the pain intensified, she saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

With a primal howl, Adora sprinted through the remaining distance between her and Shadow Weaver, as her vision went red from the electricity and pain. 

And before Shadow Weaver could abort her spell, Adora struck with all of her might, shaking the room as she impaled the sorceress against the wall. 

Unlike her duel with Princess Mermista, Adora didn’t miss the heart this time.

Shadow Weaver’s mask clattered against the floor. The Black Garnet fizzled out. And the chamber was overcome in silence and shadow.

Adora lost her control over She-Ra, nearly passing out as she transformed back to her normal self. Her muscles refused to budge, frozen in shock. Her weight sagged against the pommel of her sword, driving it deeper into Shadow Weaver.

When a pathetic gasp came from above her head, Adora glanced up.

Eyes with grotesque pupils stared back. The ugly scars of decaying flesh visibly twitched as Shadow Weaver’s mouth hung open in a silent cry.

Recognition flashed across her fading eyes, and Shadow Weaver let out a shuddering groan as her shoulders twitched. With the last vestiges of her strength, she raised her trembling hands and gently cupped Adora’s face. She traced the edges of Adora’s jawline, her cheek. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

And then the light faded from her eyes. Her fingers seized up, digging into Adora’s skin. Painfully slow, they drifted down Adora’s face before detaching entirely, her arms thumping against the wall, the sound echoing in the empty room.

Adora’s wheezing breaths echoed in her ears, as the pommel of her sword dug into her stomach. She...she did it. Shadow Weaver was dead. They were safe.

As she gazed into Shadow Weaver’s lifeless eyes, she did not find overwhelming triumph in her heart, the fiery taste of victory. Only grim determination at doing what must be done.

There was one less monster in the world.

Chapter Text

ACT II

Late, late at night - or at this point, was it early, early in the morning? - Glimmer crept through the halls of Bright Moon Castle. She vaguely remembered the patrols of the guards, and, armed with the knowledge of most of the secret passages, servants’ entrances, and shortcuts, so far had remained undetected. 

Not that she was trying to hide from anyone. Just that, in her current state, anyone who spotted her would raise several questions she did not feel like answering. For example, why was the princess of Bright Moon slinking around her own castle, face, hair, and armor stained midnight black by some unknown substance? Why was her usual carefree smile replaced with a dark scowl? Why were her eyes subtly glowing a harsh purple, compared to their usual lighter pink? 

Four days. Four days without magic. Without a doubt the worst experience of her life. Even now, Glimmer’s chest still twitched from the gaping hole her magic had left behind; well, that, or it was her cracked ribs that she hadn’t received medical attention for.

Sure, Glimmer could have gone to the Moonstone first instead of her room, but there was no way in hell she wouldn’t have been spotted, and her mother alerted. If Angella saw her right now…

Glimmer shivered as she peeked around a corner. 

So close to her room, where she could get a nice hot shower . She fidgeted with a loose strand of blackened hair that had fallen over her eye. Hopefully her hair wasn’t too damaged from being coated in a thick layer of ash, soot, and smoke and mashed against the metal wall of the transport for several days. She’d been so happy with how it had grown out.

Confident that no guards were approaching, Glimmer shot across the intersection between four corridors, keeping her head low. The plan was to get a nice, steaming shower going for at least an hour; long enough to clean out all of the gunk in her hair. Then, casually make her way to the Moonstone, looking to the world like the perfect princess, recharge, and teleport back to bed, with no one - especially her mother - the wiser. 

Her mind began to drift as she neared her room. Once she got cleaned up and recharged, she’d crash and sleep for the next day at least, in her amazingly soft, giant, warm bed. Hard metal seats, the constant shaking of the transport, the sounds of other people, and the aching magical hole in her heart made for a near impossible time sleeping. She may have drifted in the fuzzy in-between of consciousness and dreams at times, but that had been because of exhaustion, not comfort.

Once rested, and after eating some real food, not military rations, Glimmer would give a quick report to Angella. Spinnerella and Netossa would certainly tell their side of the story before she could, but so long as her current appearance went unnoticed, she could downplay the worst of the battle. Still, that was not going to be a fun conversation.

As soon as she could sprint out the door without being disrespectful, Glimmer planned on teleporting over to Mystacor. Bow continued to diligently research She-Ra’s weaknesses - although he hadn’t made much progress last time she had checked on him, the day before Fort Riverstride had been attacked.

A week without him was far too long. She missed the comforting inflection of his voice, the way he actually listened to her side before jumping to conclusions. How he always seemed to be able to read her mind. The way she perfectly slotted in his embrace when they cuddled. How he would gradually pull her in tight while sleeping, where she would wake up in the morning completely enveloped by his muscular frame. 

Glimmer’s scowl slowly melted away, as a soft grin took its place. She knew that she was a little delirious from being without magic for so long, but she swore she could feel Bow’s soft lips on her own, his warm, calloused hands on her naked back.

She gently pushed open the smooth, cold door to her room. Mission accomplished. Now she was going to get a nice, hot shower going and-

A voice rang out behind her.

“Glimmer, is that you?”

Fuck.

Angella stood somewhere to her left and down the hall, still a good distance away. Glimmer did not dare to look at her and risk being caught. 

“Hey, mom.”

She tried to say it casually, but her voice came out cracked and hoarse from disuse. Her ribs weren’t helping either.

“I’m really tired,” she continued, after clearing her throat. “Can we talk in the morning?”

“I’ll only hold you for a minute,” replied Angella. Glimmer could perfectly imagine the infuriatingly-kind smile on her mother’s face. Of course she wouldn’t listen to her. 

She tensed as Angella’s soft footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. Slamming the door in her face would only make things worse, make it seem like Glimmer had something to hide. If she disregarded Angella and went into her room, Angella would follow her. 

Maybe, hopefully, Angella hadn’t talked to Spinnerella or Netossa yet, and Glimmer could give her own side of the story first. That was the least she deserved for the uncomfortable conversation she was about to have.

“I came as soon as I heard that your convoy had returned. When I arrived, Spinnerella told me that you had already left.”

Why did the universe have a vendetta against her? Couldn’t one thing go right?

“Yeah, I was super tired. What else did she say?” She carefully kept her voice even; tried to make sure it sounded casual and not accusatory. 

Angella stopped right next to her.

“She said you were hurt.”

Glimmer froze at the soft tone. She waited for the other shoe to drop, for her mother to berate her for risking her life and using unorthodox magic. For having the guts to fight to the bitter end.

It never came. Instead, one of Angella’s hands gently cupped her stained cheek, and Glimmer’s breath hitched. 

“Glimmer, please talk to me.” 

Angella gently guided her head to the side, and then gasped.

“ What happened to you ?” 

The shock in her voice shook Glimmer out of her stupor.

For four days, she had seethed in the back of the transport. At the failure of the fort’s garrison to hold the line until Glimmer and the others had arrived, at its cowardice. At Plumeria’s failure - or worse, treason - to warn of the incoming Horde army. At Netossa for daring to use her magic against her, and for being too afraid or weak or selfish to finish off the meager remnants of the Horde, after Glimmer had been willing to sacrifice everything to win. 

At the way Spinnerella and Netossa had conversed in hushed whispers and gazes, how they had snuck quick glances at her whenever they thought she was asleep or distracted. They never directly brought up her actions in the battle, but she heard bits and pieces. 

It hurt, the way they warily watched her, like she was some rabid animal that would tear their throats out if left unchecked. They watched her grow up, taught her to control her powers, helped her confess her love to Bow. They helped fill the void left by her father; Spinnerella was like an aunt to her, and Netossa her big sister. 

So why after all these years could they not trust her now? Glimmer acknowledged that the spell could have gone better than it did, but neither of them got hurt! She nearly saved the day, and in return, they acted like she did something wrong, something evil. If she had cut through the Horde army one by one, using her usual magic, they wouldn’t have reacted this way. Yet, when she achieved the same result in a much shorter time frame, somehow that was wrong? 

She must have been quiet for too long, because Angella pulled her into a tight hug, not caring that her dress would be stained by the layer of grime. Glimmer stiffened at the tight embrace; how long had it been since they had truly hugged each other?

“Please talk to me.” 

Her mother’s voice trembled in a way that shot right through her heart. 

“I promise I won’t be mad at you. I will listen. I just want to help you.”

“We lost,” Glimmer’s voice broke as she clenched one hand around Angella’s dress, “we lost Plumeria. I’m sorry !”

Angella’s grip tightened a bit more. “I know, and right now, I don’t care.”

“What? We needed them! You trusted me to stop the Horde, and I wasn’t good enough!”

Angella stroked a soft hand through her mangy hair.

“I trusted you to fight long enough to save our soldiers from being massacred. I trusted you, in all of your courage, to stand up to an army with only Netossa and Spinnerella for support. I never expected you to single-handedly win a battle that had already been lost.”

 Angella’s gentle tone sent a spark of fire into her heart.

“How can you be so...okay with this?!” Glimmer bit out, still not strong enough to look at her mother. “Without Plumeria, we’re going to run out of food! Our people are going to suffer, the Rebellion is going to collapse, all because I wasn’t good enough !” she shouted the last bit, echoing in the empty halls.

She barely kept the tears of frustration at bay as she clenched her fists.

Angella pulled back slightly, so that she could gently cup Glimmer’s face with her hands. Glimmer shakily met her eyes.

“I will not tolerate that,” her mother firmly said, “you are always good enough. You are so brave, so courageous, so good of heart. You are everything and more that our people expect out of their princess. I am proud to call you my daughter.”

She brushed a tangle of hair that had fallen over Glimmer’s face.

“The Rebellion has seen dark times before, and it will see them again. But always, we have prevailed.” She smiled down at Glimmer. “But right now, I do not care. I am the leader of the Rebellion, but more importantly, I am your mother. And as proud as I have been to watch you grow up and become stronger and a true champion of our people, I have neglected my duties in that regard.”

Glimmer numbly stared back. Her mother was...proud of her? But she always got so angry when Glimmer returned from her latest mission. She scolded her for not being meek and retreating when a battle could still be won. She yelled at her when Glimmer protested her orders, condemning her actions as glory-seeking and reckless.

Angella sighed at her confusion.

“It is...difficult for me to separate the war from our relationship, especially now that you are a commander in the field. You are our greatest fighter, and yet I am loath to send you into danger.” 

She quickly clarified when Glimmer opened her mouth. “Not because I do not trust in your ability, but because no mother wants to send their daughter to war, for them to suffer and fight like you have been forced to.” 

A flicker of shame entered Angella’s eyes. “Every time you leave for your next mission, no matter how small and safe it may appear to be, I worry for your safety. The war has taken too much from me, and I cannot lose you as well. That is why I am so harsh on you, why I attempt to temper your bravery, because I am scared that one day, you won’t come back. And I will be...alone.”

Glimmer shifted uncomfortably.

“I…I know,” she carefully began, “I know that you’re just trying to look out for me, but we end up arguing all the time because it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you don’t think I’m capable, that you don’t trust me. And I know you said you believe in me, but you scold me every time I return from a mission injured!”

She humorlessly chuckled.

“Like you said, it’s war. I’m going to get hurt.” 

Angella winced at her dismissive remark.

“But,” she swallowed, “I have a lot to live for. You said you’re scared of losing me; well, I’m scared of losing you and Bow and Spinnerella and George and everyone that matters to me. That is why I fight so hard, why I take those risks! Because a concussion or laser burn or broken ribs is nothing compared to failing you.”

This time, when Angella hugged her, Glimmer hugged back.

She didn’t know how much time she spent in her mother’s embrace, but she didn’t care. She allowed herself to feel a little spark of hope, that things between them might change for the better, might be what they were before Glimmer had begun fighting. 

When Angella pulled back, a few stray tears creeped down her cheeks. Dimly, Glimmer felt similar wetness on her own.

“You will never fail me. I am sure of that.”

Without her mother’s steadying hands, Glimmer wobbled on her feet. It had been a while since she’d had a conversation that emotional, and she now felt even more drained. And she still needed to recharge before she could go to bed.

A small smile crept up on Angella’s face. “You haven’t recharged, have you?”

Glimmer didn’t bother responding, just dimly nodded her head. 

“Would you like me to fly you to the Moonstone? Like we used to?” Angella’s voice caught at the end, but she maintained her gentle tone. “You said you were tired, and I can see that. You don’t have to talk to me about the battle tonight. It can wait.”

Glimmer gave a weary, but genuine smile.

“Sure.”

And then Angella carefully lifted her off the ground, and she found herself cradled in her mother’s arms. A small, sharp gust of wind blew against her face as Angella took flight, the branching corridors and looming windows of the castle quickly blurring. 

A heavy sigh forced its way out of Glimmer’s chest as she leaned into Angella’s shoulder. The soft fabrics of Angella’s dress seemed to caress her head, a far cry from the cold, hard metal of the transport. Her eyes drooped shut as she curled up.

She hadn’t even realized how much she missed this. Before the war - well, before she entered the war - flying with her mother had been a weekly occurrence at worst. For Angella, Glimmer assumed, it was probably one of the few bright spots in her life that was independent of her overwhelming responsibilities as both Queen of Bright Moon and leader of the Rebellion. For Glimmer’s part, it was one of the few times she got to be around her mother and not the Queen.

The world brightened as they exited the castle, the light of the three moons illuminating the city of Bright Moon. This late in the night - or early in the morning, she still hadn’t figured that out yet - the city lay in silence: a few scuffles of movement here and there, a few buildings still open, but otherwise a tense peace had settled over the city.

The Moonstone still shone bright enough to pierce through the night, a beacon that the void in Glimmer’s chest pulled towards. 

Angella glided down to the ornate floor of the Moonstone shrine, so carefully that Glimmer didn’t budge in her arms. Before she could protest that she could walk over to the altar herself, Angella had already laid her down on the smooth surface.

As soon as her back touched the stone, and her body was fully bathed in the magical light, Glimmer let out an embarrassing moan. 

If she weren’t dead on her feet and seconds away from falling asleep, Glimmer would’ve been mortified at making such a noise in front of her mother. Usually that sound was reserved for other situations.

But right now, all she could focus on was magic suffusing through her body, making her go weightless. Glimmer swore she could feel each individual cell in her body recharge, aches so minute she didn’t even realize they were there washed away. Her shoulders dropped unceremoniously to the altar from where they had been scrunched up around her ears.

A steady ringing in her head slowly disappeared, leaving her mind tender and her ears painfully aware of how quiet the shrine was. Her vision sharpened, the ceiling of the shrine no longer fuzzy, but in pristine detail. The void in her chest hurt a little less.

Sure, Glimmer had been drained of most of her magic before and gone a while without recharging, but never had she been entirely drained - down to the last atom - and had to wait four days before recharging. It was going to take a while for her to fully recover, so she resigned herself to being stuck on this uncomfortable stone slab for the next hour or two.

Glimmer fully expected her mother to leave after the first ten minutes or so, once it became apparent that she was fine and could get back to her room on her own. Angella hardly got any sleep as it was, and now she’d been kept awake even longer because she had been waiting on Glimmer to return home.

Instead, Angella continued to hover outside of her field of vision. Glimmer wanted to tell her that it was okay to leave, to please get some rest. Angella had done enough for her. But she couldn’t find the strength to open her mouth, even as more and more magic flowed into her body, eyes beginning to droop back down again.

When her eyes finally drifted shut, Glimmer faintly heard Angella begin to walk past the altar. Hopefully her mother would get a little rest before shouldering the weight of the world.

And then her long fingers stroked through Glimmer’s mangy, dirty hair. So softly that at first Glimmer thought she had imagined it, but the sensation continued, slowly moving down towards her scalp. Despite how matted her hair was after five days without a shower and being coated in a thick layer of ash and soot, her mother’s fingers never once caught on a clump and hurt her.

Glimmer’s breaths began to tremble as Angella reached her scalp, brushing through the thick lumps and caressing her head. How long had it been since they had done this? Been open enough to trust the other so intimately? Comfortable enough for the other to see them at their most vulnerable?

How long had it been since they had been mother and daughter?

Angella began to hum a tune that she hadn’t heard in years. An old song that she’d sung Glimmer to sleep with every night when Glimmer had been little. Although Angella didn’t sing the verses, she still knew them by heart, her addled mind still able to easily follow along. 

Her breathing turned ragged as Angella reached the crescendo.

And as her mother continued to comfort her in a way she hadn’t done in years, Glimmer began to cry.

Soft, easy tears that made no sound and left no shame drifted down her cheeks, pooling on the stone beneath her. And still her mother continued to croon and softly stroke her head.

When the final echoes of the song faded, Glimmer fell into the soundest sleep she’d had in months.

------------------------------------------------------------

Glimmer groaned as she fisted her hands in the sheets beneath her and jammed her face back into her pillow, desperately trying to chase after the last remnants of sleep that had already left her. When it became apparent that, no, she would not be going back to sleep, she pivoted to blindly grasping for Bow at her side. When her hand only found the impossibly soft, cool comforter and not her muscular, warm lover, Glimmer blearily opened her eyes.

And immediately winced at the bright daylight flooding into her bedroom. 

As her vision slowly lost the haze of sleepiness, she noticed a dark stain on her pillow. The usual wash of pink and purple had a large black smudge right in the center. Glimmer scratched an itch on her head, then frowned when her hand came back the same color as her pillow. 

Oh, right.

She crawled her way out of the mountainous comforter, stiff muscles groaning in defiance. She sent a quick prayer to Bow’s common sense. When they’d started dating and sleeping in the same bed, he had convinced her to get a normal bed instead of one that was suspended fifteen feet in the air and only accessible by teleportation. Otherwise, she would have had a hard time getting down.

Glimmer sat on the edge of their bed, slowly cracking her knuckles and joints - each loud ‘pop’ making her feel a little more awake. When she absentmindedly snapped her fingers, a purple burst of magic twinkled.

She stared at her hand for a moment, then fell back into their bed and laughed. How could she have forgotten that she had recharged last night?

Glimmer gingerly poked at her ribcage. When a spike of pain didn’t erupt at her soft touch, she pushed harder; just to make sure. Yep, no pain! As much of a headache as having to recharge was, she had to admit the day after felt wonderful, where the flood of magic healed every wound to her body.

Eying the couch on the balcony, Glimmer teleported for the first time in four days, letting out a little squeal as she reappeared on the soft cushions, a gentle breeze brushing her skin. Judging by the positions of the three moons, it was sometime in the middle of the afternoon.

Glimmer teleported again, this time to her shower. She threw the settings to full blast, impatiently waited for steam to begin rising, and then quickly jumped in.

Since she was alone, Glimmer felt no shame in letting out a loud sigh as the hot water hit her. Putting aside the magic deficiencies she had to deal with on the journey back home, physically she had never felt more gross. Having to sit in a stuffy transport, stuck in her heavy, broken armor, sweat drying against her skin, hair gradually getting more and more disgusting, all of that made for an exceptionally unpleasant feeling.

But the steaming flood of water quickly washed the grime away, the pooling excess around her feet turning murky before being sucked down the drain. Never would Glimmer have imagined that she would miss something as simple as soap! She fervently scrubbed her body, only slowing down to gently dab at the burn scar along her left flank.

Glimmer left her hair for last, because it deserved her full attention and care. She stood directly under the stream, carefully threading through the tangled strands as the ash, soot, and smoke agonizingly slowly washed off. The runoff was a harsh black, identical to the stain on her pillow, turning the floor around her feet opaque.

At long last, Glimmer was able to comb her hands through her hair without catching on any tangles or clumps. She washed her hair out several times, until the runoff was only soapy water, then carefully dried her hair before checking herself in the mirror.

Although Glimmer knew that her hair was completely clean, she still frowned at the darkened tone in her reflection. Before the battle, her hair had been a vibrant pink, full of sparkles and seeming to shine in the light. Now, it took on a more purple hue, with some of the sparkles being drowned in the darker color. Even though she stood directly under a light, her hair only absorbed it, instead of shining.

She carded one hand through her hair, testing for any signs of grime and finding none. Her hair was as soft and as clean as ever. For some reason, it had just decided to undergo a color change all on its own.

It wasn’t bad looking, just something new. In fact, Glimmer thought she liked the new color; it made her feel more powerful, more mature. 

If Angella asked, she would just say she was trying out a new look. 

Speaking of her mother, Glimmer set out to debrief her on the battle. If it was still the day they had returned, maybe she could explain her side first before Spinnerella or Netossa told Angella everything . If it wasn’t, well, she and Angella seemed to have made somewhat of a breakthrough. 

It wouldn’t be that bad.

Once she dressed, Glimmer teleported into the throne room instead of Angella’s courtroom. Better not risk disrupting an important meeting and setting back any progress they had made.

But when she appeared, she found her mother on the throne: hunched back, deep in thought, one hand resting against her nose.

When Angella lifted her eyes, Glimmer’s heart froze at her look.

Spinnerella and Netossa had definitely told her mother everything.

Before Glimmer could say something to assuage Angella, her mother closed the gap in an instant.

“We will talk in my study.”

Angella didn’t seem accusatory, but she certainly didn’t sound as loving and understanding as when they had their heart-to-heart. Once they entered the soundproofed office, and Angella had taken a seat behind her desk, Glimmer awkwardly leaned against a chair.

This close to each other, Glimmer could see how stressed her mother was. Her skin around her eyes was pinched tight, jaw firmly set, and a pained look in her eyes. When Angella spoke again, her control seemed to be at its limits.

“Spinnerella and Netossa have given me their accounts of the battle. I will refrain from making any judgments until I have heard yours. So, please,” she took a shuddering breath, “help me understand.”

And so Glimmer did. She started with her receiving the orders to teleport to Fort Riverstride in all haste, only stopping to take Netossa and Spinnerella with her. How when they arrived, the Horde had been about to conquer it, and how they had valiantly pushed the invaders back. She hadn’t realized they were only there to save the fort’s soldiers, and so when Spinnerella told her to leave when the battle could still have been won, Glimmer had refused and ran back into the fight.

“I’ve been working on this new spell, and I knew it might be enough to defeat the Horde. So I used it, and it worked.” Glimmer sheepishly grinned, “probably a bit too well. That’s the only reason I got hurt. I stood too close to the blast.”

A terrified look shot across Angella’s face. “What on earth were you thinking?! You could’ve been killed!”

Glimmer waved her hands.

“It’s not like I didn’t know what the spell did; it’s just that I only practiced it on a really small scale beforehand. I wasn’t expecting a shockwave that powerful,” she perked up, “Oh! I didn’t even get burned by the fire! So it wasn’t as big of a deal as they said it was.”

She smirked. “And it worked so much better than I had hoped for! It almost killed the entire Horde army!”

Angella did not share her sentiment.

“Netossa is as unflappable a person as I have ever met, and she was outright terrified at what happened. The events she described - lightning strikes despite clear skies, freezing temperatures on an otherwise warm autumn day, nature dying around them in an instant, firestorms, cold firestorms - Glimmer, that is wrong .”

She gave a casual shrug. “It’s just magic. It’s just a tool. And it was the Horde I used it against!”

“There are some kinds of magic that should not be practiced,” Angella sighed, “whatever it was that you used during the battle falls into that category: dark magic .”

Glimmer scoffed, “Like what Light Spinner used? It was dark magic because she was an evil person who killed her allies and tried to seize power. I would never do that!”

Angella winced.

“I know that, and I did not intend to imply as much,” she rubbed her forehead, a tired look on her face, “but dark magic is dangerous not only to others, but to yourself. Its very nature results in adverse effects on the caster. Your aunt could give you a much more thorough explanation, but,” she pointed at Glimmer’s hair, “already it is beginning to change you.”

“Oh, this? It’s not a big deal,” Glimmer tried to downplay her mother’s words, “in fact, I think I like this new color.”

Angella softly smiled. “Yes, it is beautiful.” Her smile fell. “But not every side effect will be so insignificant. Again, I would point you to your aunt. Mystacor has documented the history of dark magic, and it is a painful, destructive path for all who follow it.”

The pained look in her mother’s eyes intensified. “Thankfully, dark magic users - except for Light Spinner - have not been seen in centuries. It is a horrific sight, to see those who have fallen to its corruption. It will twist you up inside, slowly erode your humanity, your empathy, until all that remains is a decrepit husk.” Her eyes went a little vacant. “It is the one thing I fear more for you than death.”

Glimmer got up from her perch and walked over to her mother, pulling her into a hug.

“Mom, I’m gonna be okay. You really think I would let myself get turned evil?” she said soothingly. “And I’m not even that interested in learning more magic right now. You know that! All I need is this one spell and-”

“ Glimmer ,” her mother’s voice trembled, “promise me you will not use this magic again. Both for your sake and mine.”

Glimmer scowled where Angella couldn’t see her. “But it’s powerful enough to destroy an entire Horde army! We could win the war with it!”

“But at what cost?” Angella softly spoke, “Your humanity, your very being? The war cannot be won in only a few victories on our part. The sacrifices you would be forced to make would be unnecessary.”

“But the Horde has She-Ra! I need to be more powerful!”

Her mother met her gaze. “Even though you try your best, wars cannot be won through the actions of one singular person. Yes, She-Ra may be powerful, but she is only one person. And you are not alone. You do not have to sacrifice everything, and I would never ask that of you.”

Angella smiled. “You already have three other princesses to support you, and I’m sure that you will sway another at the Princess Ball. I know that with my daughter leading the charge - with four of the strongest princesses supporting her - even She-Ra wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I…” 

Glimmer’s voice broke.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Angella separated from their hug, smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress that Glimmer had made. Taking her cue - and knowing that her mother was always busy - Glimmer prepared to make her exit. And she had one person in mind for her destination.

“Oh, and Glimmer?” she turned back to find Angella giving her a warm smile, “Give my regards to Bow, will you?”

Glimmer grinned and nodded, before teleporting away.

------------------------------------------------------------

It only took her a few jumps to reach Mystacor. On the last, Glimmer appeared within the main library, only a few shelves down from where Bow had erected his work station. The She-Ra wing of the building had been seldom used, so it had been no trouble for Bow to permanently claim several tables for his research.

The four tables were arranged to form one giant expanse, which Bow divided into sections based on some parameters that Glimmer didn’t care to remember. Heaps of books dotted the surface, and any available space was taken up by Bow’s notes. 

The good: they had learned plenty about what She-Ra could do, specifically in combat. Combined with Mermista’s up close experience in fighting She-Ra, Glimmer and her allies would be as prepared as they would ever be when they fought for the first time.

The bad: they had yet to find an exploitable weakness of She-Ra’s. The only thing Glimmer could think of was taking away her sword, the source of her powers, but that would be impossible while trying to fight an eight foot tall goddess of seemingly - according to the texts - limitless power.

Bow hunched over a notepad, busily scribbling as he periodically checked with an open tome to his side. As Glimmer crept closer, he finished writing, laying the notepad on top of a pile of several others and clamping the tome shut. He let out a drawn out groan, both hands pressed to his face. After several seconds of this, Bow snapped to attention, grabbing a fresh notepad and a new book from the towers that surrounded him.

Glimmer got close enough to hear his frustrated grumblings as he scribbled away. Then, she sprinted across the remaining distance, and right before she reached Bow, he set his pen down.

When Glimmer grabbed the side of his head and pulled him down, he offered no resistance as he passionately met her lips. 

When they broke apart for air, Glimmer murmured against his skin, “How’d you know it was me?”

Bow laughed - stars, she had missed that laugh - and leaned back in to give her a quick peck. “It’s a library. I heard you teleport in.” His eyes crinkled as he gazed adoringly at her. “Also, you’re the only person in the world who would sprint in a library .”

Glimmer huffed as he kissed her forehead. “Well I missed you!”

Bow put one finger to his lips, shushing her incessantly.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you really shushing m-”

Bow crashed their lips back together in another hungry kiss. Then, he noticed her new look.

“Ooooo, did you do something to your hair?” He gently trailed a hand through a bit that had fallen over her shoulder.

“Yeah, just a little magic involved.”

“You look beautiful.”

Glimmer blushed as he met her eyes. “You’d say that if I walked out of a swamp wearing nothing but rags.”

Bow grinned down at her. “And I’d be telling the truth.” Then he remembered why they had been separated in the first place. “Oh hey, how did the battle go?”

Glimmer leaned against one of the tables, crossing her arms as she scowled at the ground. 

“We...we lost,” she finally bit out. “We never really had a chance to begin with, but it still hurts.” 

Bow looped one arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a sideways hug. 

“And I…” she chose her words carefully, “Netossa and Spinnerella didn’t see eye to eye with my decisions. I haven’t really talked to them about the battle, but I know they’ve been whispering about me behind my back!”

Ever the optimist, Bow tried to reason with her. “Maybe they’re just worried about you. You do take it personally whenever you don’t succeed. Fort Riverstride was really important to the Rebellion, so you’re probably placing a ton of blame on yourself, even though that’s not fair.”

Glimmer laughed to herself at how well Bow knew her. 

“Well, I’m not blaming myself too much,” she frowned, “it’s more that I’m frustrated at not being strong enough. I was so close to stopping the Horde, but I ran out of magic!. And all I got out of it was Netossa and Spinnerella being scared of me. Although,” she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, “my mom and I did make a little progress.”

“Really?!” Bow’s eyes sparkled, “That’s awesome!” 

Then his brow furrowed. 

“Wait, why would Netossa and Spinnerella be afraid of you?”

“It’s,” Glimmer’s jaw clenched, “it’s something I did during the battle. They didn’t like it, even though it was necessary and nearly wiped out the Horde.”

“O-kay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, but,” she looked around them, finding nothing but dusty shelves and empty chairs and oppressive silence, “not here.” After her mother’s warnings, it became clear that Glimmer’s opinions on magic did not align with the common thought. 

She took Bow’s hand in her own and teleported them to her room in the guest wing. 

Bow let out a groaning sigh as he flopped onto the bed, his shoulders and back cracking in at least five different areas. Glimmer huffed as she stared him down. 

“How long have you been working without taking a break?”

His eyes scrunched together in a way that made her heart melt. “Uh, only a couple hours I think? I started at eight this morning and it’s close to noon, right? It’s hard to tell time that deep in the library.”

“It’s almost three,” she deadpanned. “Did you even eat?”

“I had breakfast,” Bow tried. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. He lasted about ten seconds before wilting. 

“Okay! It was only a piece of toast, but I wasn’t that hungry and the work is really important!”

Glimmer sat down on the bed next to him. 

“So are you! And you’ve been slaving away at the books for weeks now. You could take a day off,” a teasing smile grew on her face. “I heard you grumbling when I teleported in, you know. And it sounded like you were about to start fighting the books until I kissed you.”

Bow squirmed around so that his head was laying in her lap. She began tracing her hands through the stubble along his jawline, his eyes fluttering closed in response.

“Yeah, it’s just...a lot. When you were here, it was easy to let myself take a break. But when it’s just me, I’m in my own world. Sea Hawk and Mermista haven’t done much research recently because he’s helping Mermista with physical therapy. And your aunt is busy leading Mystacor. Since we still have nothing to work with against She-Ra, I have to keep working.”

“I think I hate books now,” Bow smiled up at her. “Please don’t tell my dads that.”

Glimmer giggled. “I would never! I like you staying in one piece.”

“Well,” Bow let out a long sigh, “still nothing in the ‘She-Ra weaknesses’ department. But weren’t you going to tell me about the battle?”

“Oh...right.”

Suddenly, all of her courage disappeared. Everyone else that had learned about her new powers was either scared for or terrified of her. Bow was the one true constant in her life, the one person she could trust without question to have her back and believe in her, but what if he didn’t? What if she told him what she had done and he reacted the same way as Netossa? What if he stopped seeing her as the most important person in the world? What if, when he learned what she’d done, he stopped loving her?

“I,” Glimmer cleared her throat and restarted, “I’ve been learning some new magic. One spell in particular I’ve been practicing a lot, waiting for the right moment. And the battle was the perfect time! We were about to lose, the Horde was all bunched together, and so I cast it. It nearly destroyed their entire army.”

“Okay, but how is that a bad thing?” Bow interjected.

“It’s ‘bad’,” Glimmer huffed, “because I used ‘dark magic’ in the process. All I did was blow up the valley!”

“When you say ‘blow up, do you mean…”

“The entire valley exploded.”

“Oh.”

Bow blinked once.

Twice.

“That’s, uh, new ,” he eventually hazarded, “but I still don’t see why Netossa and Spinnerella were scared of you. Scared of a valley-sized explosion? Completely reasonable. Scared of you? That’s unfair.”

A thousand-pound ball of stress lifted off of Glimmer’s shoulders as she mentally berated her past self for ever doubting Bow. 

“Exactly! I would never hurt either of them, or my mom, or you! And it’s not like I was some madwoman cackling with glee as I turned my enemies to ashes! I didn’t enjoy doing it, but I had to try!”

Bow lifted himself up from her lap, then hugged her. She sighed as her head fell perfectly into the crook between his bicep and shoulder. She’d missed his touch. 

“That’s why I know that you didn’t do something wrong. As much as I hate it, you’re fighting in a war. With how powerful you are, you’re going to end up killing a lot of people. Because you have to, not because you want to or take pleasure from it.” 

He squeezed a little tighter. 

“Only one side gets to go home. So you’d better come home every time.”

The unspoken message of ‘ I can’t live without you ’ was loud and clear.

Glimmer pressed her face against his chest. “Thanks, Bow. For believing in me.”

“I might be a little biased.” She glanced up and found a cheeky grin on his face. “After all, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

Her only answer was to tackle him to the sheets.

------------------------------------------------------------

Late that night, as the moonbirds’ song danced through the quiet air, Glimmer found herself frustratingly wide awake. Going off her internal clock, it had to have been after midnight, but she couldn’t shut her eyes, even as Bow lightly snored next to her, and gradually pulled her closer as a soft magical breeze fluttered through their room.

She’d changed. Subtly, and in a way that had been impossible to notice until a few hours ago, but changed nonetheless. And not just the color of her hair.

The sensation of using ‘dark magic’ - even though Glimmer still saw that description as worthless - hadn’t necessarily been unfamiliar before she had cast the destruction spell. In her many experiments with the spell and others like it, jolts of pleasure had accompanied the flow of magic through her body. Her traditional magic had a similar effect, but these new sensations were vibrant in an almost intoxicating way.

When Glimmer had cast the spell at full strength, for the briefest moment, seconds before the spell sucked out all of the magic in her body, she’d felt that sensation on an impossibly deep level, the magic scratching itches she didn’t even know existed.

Today, whenever she had teleported or used a basic spell around Bow, she still felt the usual pleasure that came along with that kind of magic: warm, slow moving, like magma from deep within the planet’s core was moving through her veins. She felt like she had just spent a couple hours sleeping in the sun, or eating a hot meal, or snuggling with Bow.

Glimmer’s new magic, the ‘dark’ magic, sent lightning coursing through her blood. For once, she had been without weakness. She’d held the world within her grasp, and she could do whatever she wanted. She’d been free of all of those frustrating constraints placed upon her. And then for the shortest moment, she had felt at peace; her mind disconnected from the pains of reality, adrift in an infinite ocean of pleasure.

Her mother had pleaded with Glimmer not to continue using this magic. Based on her shell-shocked look, Spinnerella would definitely agree with Angella. And Netossa? Netossa had felt it necessary to assault her because she was being ‘reckless’. The three of them would never accept her new abilities. They didn’t understand .

This new magic dwarfed the bland spells that Mysator had been teaching for centuries. While it had taken Glimmer three months to properly conjure a plume of fire under the regimented teachings of her aunt, in only a few weeks, she’d been able to create an explosion strong enough to level an entire valleyside just from a journal filled with chicken scratch and unhinged ramblings.

And that had been only one of the countless spells begging to be learned! Glimmer had focused only on the explosion rune because it was the simplest to use in battle, but there were hundreds of spells - along with detailed instructions on their casting - written within the faded pages. Assuming that these spells had a similar source and effect on her, why wouldn’t she learn them?

Glimmer ached to feel the intoxicating power again, but she wasn’t so addicted that she would resort to the explosion spell on every whim. That’s why she wanted to learn more of this new magic! To have alternate sources that weren’t so demanding or destructive. Even if Netossa and Angella didn’t seem to trust her to know her own limits, she wouldn’t sink so far as to hurt or kill others just for her own pleasure. 

They were the good guys, after all.

And Glimmer needed all the power she could handle if she was going to stop She-Ra without any casualties. 

Mermista at her best, next to the ocean and her runestone, nearly died. Sure, they would have strength in numbers when they fought She-Ra, but the terms of engagement certainly wouldn’t be as favorable. And as much as it irked Glimmer for Spinnerella to fear her or Netossa say that her actions were wrong and bind her, she still loved them. She would pay the costs of learning more magic - gaining more power - a hundred times over if it meant she didn’t lose anyone else.

Bow understood that. They were at war, and they would have to do many things they didn’t want to do or disagreed with. But when the alternative was losing and allowing a genocidal war machine to crush the world beneath its heel, their actions were justified.

Glimmer swore to continue learning from the journal. It was too valuable a resource. But she would need to keep it a secret from everyone else, even Bow. Their actions may have been born out of love, but they were also blinded by that love. Glimmer knew her path was just, that her destiny was to defeat the Horde and save Etheria.

And twenty years from now, when the Horde had been wiped out because of her power, and the world was safe and people were happy, no one would care about what it took for that peace to be realized. 

Chapter Text

Adora’s eyes traced the uniform metal ceiling of her prison, counting the same twenty-four rivets that ran from above the locked door to right over her head, and the same twenty rivets that stretched from the left side of the room to the right. The same two rows of gloomy green fluorescent lightning burned down at her, casting long shadows around her bed. The constant humming of the lights almost drowned out the slow crawl of her IV drip, the drops of fluid creeping from the bag, through the tubing, and then into her arm.

Adora didn’t know how long she had been in here. That was the point, after all. 

Sustenance came only through the medicine she was hooked up to, because meals would have given her some semblance of the passage of time; the tray or utensils potential weapons. The walls were a uniform, ghoulish dark in the sparse lighting, a tone so monotonous that it would have bored those of a lesser fortitude to tears and insanity. On the few occasions that Adora had been awake to see a doctor check on her, they refused to speak when she asked even the simplest of questions. 

Except for being away from Catra, Adora didn’t think her situation was all too bad. 

Oh, and the fact that she was laser cuffed to the railing of the bed, not that her muscles were feeling up for a daring escape anytime soon. Or that she would have tried something that risky and damning. Also, her sword had been confiscated.

But other than that, things weren’t that bad. 

Judging from the growth of her finger nails, only a few days at most had passed since she killed Shadow Weaver. In that time, her injuries had lessened in their paralyzing pain. The first time Adora woke up in this room, her muscles jolted against their restraints, a long delayed reaction caused by the lightning, and immediately, bolts of fire shot through her body, driving her to tears. She’d nearly bitten her tongue off, but Adora made no sounds of weakness - even though she was alone - until the pain subsided enough that she could think about anything other than desperately wishing it would end.

Since then, each time Adora woke up from her sporadic fits of unconsciousness, the pain got a little bit better. Her body still trembled from the deep set aches, but she could handle this. She knew what the price for killing Shadow Weaver would be.

Well, one of the prices.

Her initial plan had been to kill Shadow Weaver, remain conscious, and report to Hordak to explain her perceived treason. If he believed her, great! The biggest threat to her and Catra was disposed of, and the Horde could continue its mission. If he didn’t believe her, less great, but still manageable. Adora would protect Catra, and they would escape the Horde. As for what happened after that, she’d rather not think about it.

Instead, she must have passed out after Shadow Weaver died. Adora shivered at the memory of Shadow Weaver’s icy fingers digging into her skin. Vengeance had been...underwhelming. Sure, a load of stress had lifted now that she was dead, but Adora only felt...empty. She didn’t miss Shadow Weaver or regret killing her, but she had been expecting a bit more of a visceral reaction. 

Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen Catra since killing Shadow Weaver. Maybe when she saw the fear in Catra’s eyes die, as she realized that they would be in love forever and no one could tear that apart, maybe then Adora would feel happy about what she had done.

Adora didn’t want to be forced to abandon her home, her people. They needed her, and she needed to be there for them. But if the choice was the Horde or Catra, then it was never in question which she would choose.

Despite her uncomfortable accommodations, Adora held no ill will towards Hordak and whoever had locked her in this room. Given the circumstances in which they must have found her, she would have done the same thing. The Horde’s second-in-command dead, with a weapon only Adora wielded buried in her chest, and Adora (presumably) crumpled on the ground painted an obvious picture.

Now all she had to do was convince Hordak that she killed his second-in-command, who in his eyes had served him faithfully for decades, because Shadow Weaver had been mind controlling her and admitted to it. Okay, Shadow Weaver hadn’t admitted to it, but she was so obviously guilty! And anyone who knew her would know that Shadow Weaver would never tell the full truth and would try and weasel her way out of any consequences.

The only evidence in Adora’s favor being simulated memories within a First Ones ruin a few day’s journey away, and the fact that only she knew what Shadow Weaver had said in her final moments, did make her case a little difficult. Which was why she was thankful for these few days of confinement. Her room was so drab that all Adora could focus on was how she would defend her actions.

Shadow Weaver had trained her to resist more extreme tortures, both on purpose and accident. Did Adora really, really miss snuggling with Catra in a bed that didn’t feel like a bunch of rocks were burrowing into her spine? Yes. Did she feel disgusting for being covered in days’ worth of grime, sweat, and Shadow Weaver’s blood? Also yes. Was she completely defenseless if Hordak failed to believe her and ordered her execution or actual torture? Maybe.

But Adora felt pretty confident in her prepared speech for Hordak.

And as selfish as it was to say, Hordak needed her, or more precisely, She-Ra. With Shadow Weaver dead, the Horde’s command structure had taken a devastating blow. Even though Adora had killed Mermista, that still left at least three princesses - Glimmer, Netossa, and Spinnerella - confirmed to be fighting in the field; warriors too powerful for anything less than the full might of the Horde.

Or the power of She-Ra.

Adora didn’t need Hordak to forgive her for her actions, only to trust her when she swore loyalty to the Horde.

The faint marching of boots on metal flooring - far down the corridor leading to her room, but growing louder - shook her out of her thoughts. In the times when Adora had been awake, there’d been no foot traffic outside of the one doctor entering or leaving.

The procession grew closer and closer, until it was loud enough that Adora could make out multiple pairs of steps. Many pairs of steps. They stopped outside the locked door and made an about face. A soft beep made its way through the walls, then the door whirred open.

A helmeted Force Captain stepped inside first, taking up position to the immediate left of the doorway along the wall. The lieutenant followed on the right side of the doorway. The rest of the soldiers - what were they, Hordak’s personal guard? - filed in, until they lined the perimeter of the room, with two soldiers standing next to her shoulders, albeit keeping a good five feet away.

In perfect synchrony, the guards unholstered their weapons, the smooth whisk of metal sliding on metal ringing through the otherwise silent room.

Adora watched the performance with amusement, a small smile growing on her face. She could appreciate the beauty of military perfection, but it failed in its attempt at intimidation. After staring down the eye of a hurricane, twelve armed soldiers didn’t compare.

Then she remembered why they were here in the first place, and wiped the smile off her face. Arrogance would not be her ally right now.

The shadows in the doorway shrouded Hordak. He took up most of the space, shoulders barely squeezing through and the shock of hair - could robots, or whatever Hordak was, have hair? - brushing against the top of the door frame. The meager light masked his expression, except for his two burning, red eyes that locked onto her.

Adora didn’t even think about speaking first. Hordak was her superior, and she needed to show as much respect as possible if she was to convince him. 

Instead, she shuffled backwards, until she sat up straight with her back against the padding behind her head. The closing thing to standing at attention that Adora could muster. She met Hordak’s gaze and waited.

He slowly strode into the room, the shadows fading away as the overhead lights bored down on him. The guards stood a little straighter, even though their posture had been textbook. The hard thumps of his steps mixed with the humming of the lights.

The silence shattered as the door slammed shut.

Hordak stood to his full height, clasping his hands behind his back as he towered over her. Gone was the man who sat on a throne in solitude.

Here was the Lord of the Horde.

“You stand accused of high treason for the murder of my second-in-command.” Hordak began in a steely tone, “The evidence to your guilt is irrefutable. If it were not for your unique abilities, I would have already have had you executed. Force Captain Catra has already been detained and interrogated-” 

Adora’s jaw clenched, and she barely held back a demand to know if Catra was alright, and why she had been harmed in the first place. The laser cuff felt fragile against her restrained strength.

“-for her role in this conspiracy. Her fate, as well as yours, hinges on your honesty. So tell me, She-Ra: why?”

Adora took a deep breath.

“On our mission to the Whispering Woods - which Entrapta ordered us on - Catra and I discovered an active First Ones ruin. The artifacts inside were capable of simulating our memories, to the point that it could recreate every stimuli. I know this because we experienced memories from our childhood, and the simulations were so real that we only knew they had been simulations once they had ended.”

Hordak remained impassive. A few of the guards behind his field of vision tilted their heads at each other.

“A few of the memories...weren’t right. They had never happened, but they felt so real. Just as real as the ones I know happened. In all of them, Shadow Weaver used her magic to erase my mind. Several times.”

Hordak’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“In all of these memories with Shadow Weaver, Catra was there too. Shadow Weaver erased her mind as well. Eventually, the ruin’s administrator, an artificial intelligence calling itself “Light Hope”, revealed itself to us. I questioned her, and she confirmed that every simulated memory had actually happened, even if we didn’t remember them.”

Adora paused to take a shuddering breath. She despised having to lay bare her deepest fears and passions. Hadn’t she done enough for the Horde already?

“In most of the memories with Shadow Weaver, she erased our minds because Catra and I started seeing each other. She said that I was ‘too important to the Horde, and Catra would sway me from that path’. So I decided to confront her about this. I just wanted her to leave us alone. I never intended to kill her!”

She must sound like a crazed lunatic, talking about mind erasing and magic and killing for love. Already, Hordak’s demeanor began to change from aloof indifference to a scowl.

“When I confronted Shadow Weaver about these memories, she denied any wrongdoing. Even though I know that Light Hope was telling the truth, I would have left it at that. I would never betray the Horde for my own desires. But as I was exiting her sanctum, she attacked me.”

Everything hinged on her next few words. Hordak’s eyes had already sparked with interest at the revelation.

“Shadow Weaver’s attack left me paralyzed. She tried to erase my mind of the incident, along with the events of the ruin. But I was able to transform into She-Ra before she could finish, and so we fought.”

Adora let her eyes drop down to the foot of her bed, trying to mimic shame and disappointment.

“I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen. So I killed her.”

At Adora’s confession, the guards tensed up, waiting for their Lord to deliver her sentence.

Logically, it was impossible for her to win any fight, weakened and shackled as she was. But Adora felt the faintest flickers of She-Ra’s magic dancing at her fingertips, imbuing her with the confidence that she would win. But it didn’t have to come to that.

“I understand the full weight of my crime, and I accept full responsibility for my actions. But I was only acting in the best interests of the Horde. If Shadow Weaver could control me like that - control what I remember, what I thought - she could make me do anything she wanted; I would be a weapon only she could fire.” 

Adora bowed her head.

“My loyalty is and forever will be to the Horde.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. 

Despite her apparent surrender, Adora’s mind raced as her hearing sharpened. She could hear in great detail the tightening of gloved fingers against metal barrels. The slight shuffling of boots from the guard stationed in the far left corner. Hordak’s robotic breaths.

She casually moved her left hand into her lap, feeling the tension in the laser cuff. The bonds of pure energy felt brittle, as if she could snap them like a twig. But then what? She’d only have the element of surprise for a few moments at best, and even now, the guards trained their weapons on her.

Adora’s right hand tried to clench into a fist, but instead wrapped around a metal hilt. 

Her sword?

Her fingers curled around the outline of the hilt, even though there was nothing there. 

Wait. 

Soft tendrils of golden light - nearly imperceptible - weaved together in the form of her sword. Adora didn’t know how she was doing this, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that, when the time came, she would-

“Shadow Weaver never informed me of this plan.”

Adora flinched, losing control over the golden light. 

“She spoke of you many times to me, both before and after you became She-Ra. She had a great many plans for you - some realistic, most fantastical - but never did she inform me of this course of action.” Hordak’s lip curled, “I wonder why that is so.”

Adora waited with bated breath.

“Your justifications are outlandish, yet they are identical to Force Captain Catra’s testimony. Given their nature, it will be a simple task to determine their validity.” Hordak turned away from her, beginning to exit the room. “Entrapta will verify if the ruins are as technologically advanced as you say. If they are, and this ‘Light Hope’ can provide evidence of Shadow Weaver’s deception, then you and Force Captain Catra will be absolved of your sentence. If not…”

He left the room without finishing, but the implication was perfectly clear. 

When Hordak’s personal guard had followed, Adora let the mask fall off.

She trembled with nerves and relief and fear. She did it. She had convinced Hordak of their innocence, and she could stay with the Horde and help continue their mission. Adora had no doubt in her mind that Light Hope would give Entrapta all the proof she needed to persuade Hordak. What had the hologram said? That she was meant to guide She-Ra. Hard to do that if Adora was imprisoned or dead.

Worry quickly replaced her elation. She missed Catra so much . And Hordak said that Catra had been interrogated. That had many interpretations within the Horde: none of them good, some so terrible Adora didn’t like to think about them. 

She collapsed against the bed, drained from the interrogation. The sheets were so cold without Catra in them.

------------------------------------------------------------

Entrapta reverently stepped off her skiff and onto the most sacred ground in all of Etheria. 

The first confirmed fully intact First Ones ruin towered over her, so complex and beautiful and amazing that she couldn’t decide what to focus on first. The alien grooves originating from the temple and spreading deep into the surrounding forest? The crystalline surface that shined with the full color spectrum in the light? The head-turning expanse of tunnels and rooms beneath her feet, hiding the greatest secrets in the world? The fully sentient artificial intelligence that could answer her every question about its creators?

Entrapta stumbled as Emily bumped her leg. Right. She was here on a mission. Adora - and Catra, she supposed - were counting on her to prove their innocence. She really, really hoped that Adora had been telling the truth, because even Entrapta knew what the punishment for treason meant. And more importantly, Hordak was counting on her.

Putting aside the ramifications of losing a walking translator to an otherwise indecipherable language, Adora was...nice. She put up with Entrapta’s excited tangents without complaint. She seemed to genuinely enjoy helping translate the First Ones language, combing through file after file with relentless determination. Already, in the month they had been working together, Entrapta had been able to translate over fifty percent of the First Ones language with her help. And when they lost track of time buried deep in their work, and Catra stomped in to drag her girlfriend away while shooting a dirty look at Entrapta, Adora always took the blame, shielding her from Catra’s wrath while sending an apologetic look.

Adora was her friend.

Hordak was more than that. 

Not only was their work more important than the translations with Adora, both to the war effort and for scientific discovery, but he also understood Entrapta in a way that no one else had ever done before. When she got lost in a tangent about some exciting field, he seemed perfectly at ease - putting aside his grumblings that grew rarer and rarer by the day - discussing it with her. She didn’t have to dumb herself down or worry about losing him a few minutes in. 

Sure, Adora was nice and listened to her, but that was the extent of her capabilities. In that regard, talking with Adora about interdimensional physics - which had happened a few times when Entrapta stumbled upon writings about the topic - was like talking to her robots, or to a wall. It was fun to release her excitement, but the routine grew stale.

But when Entrapta discussed all manner of high level mathematics and physics with Hordak, he engaged in actual dialogue with her. In many aspects, he was smarter than her, a dynamic she’d never felt before. Despite his grouchy exterior, Hordak was just as driven by knowledge as Entrapta was. He challenged her in their work, often asking why she designed this part of their portal machine in a certain way when instead she could have done it differently. Sometimes, Hordak was correct. Others, he was not. Either way, they made progress both in their project and their relationship.

Hordak could deny it all he wanted - even though Entrapta had never implied as much - but they had grown beyond ‘friends’ within the first week of working together. They clicked in a way that Entrapta had never felt with anyone else. Around Hordak, she didn’t have to think about what she should do or say, she just was , and he never made her feel wrong for being that way.

When Hordak required a tool, Entrapta’s hair brought it to him within a few seconds. She didn’t measure the length of these interactions to begin with, but if she were to guess, the time her hair spent lingering on his hand had grown incrementally over time, and he never brushed it away.

The first time the portal had failed - well, exploded was the more accurate term, and what an explosion it had been! - Hordak had instinctively shielded her, dashing across the room fractions of a second before the blast reached her. When the dust settled, he knelt over her with a worried look in his eyes. The moment Entrapta popped back up, eager to learn why the portal failed, he had slipped back on the mask of cool indifference. 

No one had ever looked at her that way. And although he thought he was being subtle, Entrapta caught Hordak sneaking glances at her - his expression noticeably softer - when he thought she was preoccupied with bolting down a plate or testing the conductivity of the wiring. 

Emily bumped her again.

“Fine, Emily,” she good-naturedly rolled her eyes, “I guess I should go verify Adora’s testimony. And then I can explore the greatest wonder in the world!”

Entrapta checked the data pad in her bag to make sure she had the pronunciation right. Looking up at the mural, she said, “Eternia!”

Just as Catra had described it, the crystal and metal surface shone with colorful energy outlined the mural. Dimly through the walls, she could hear the grinding of metal on metal as the ramp below her creaked open, slamming down in a thump that threw up a dust cloud. 

The temple beckoned.

Entrapta squealed with joy and raced into the Crystal Castle, with Emily whirring right behind her, only stopping to chip off a piece of the walls for later examination. The corridor led straight to the atrium where the artificial intelligence had revealed herself to Adora. 

Her breath caught as she marveled at the sight before her. Unlike in Adora’s story, the room was well lit; its walls glowing in blue and red light. The glossy crystalline surface stretched far above her head. Directly ahead of her stood a beautiful artwork of She-Ra, which reflected the mythological description of the princess. 

It had taken Entrapta only a few days to find footage of Adora transformed into She-Ra, even if the files had been protected by some pretty serious firewalls. Compared to the classical interpretation, Adora was bigger, taller, and more dark. Literally, her armor was black, and the classical look was mainly white and gold. Which made sense, if She-Ra wasn’t a fixed entity, but rather a reflection of the current world. In a time of war, She-Ra would be more about strength and power; in peace, she would reflect beauty and life. An interesting hypothesis! One that Entrapta would love to test out once the war was finished. 

Entrapta wandered over to the dais standing in the middle of the room. A woman of pure white light popped into existence before she could touch it.

“The Crystal Castle is-”

“A HOLOGRAM!”

Entrapta’s hair frantically reached into her bag for her tools. This couldn’t be real. A functional, sentient First Ones artificial intelligence?! Right in front of her?! She scurried to measure everything she could: the woman’s shoulder length, height, the frequency of the light that formed her ‘body’. Her eyes darted along the floor, searching for an emitter. Were the First Ones so advanced that they could create a sentient digital being that required no source? She needed to know everything.

Then the soft hues of the walls flared into blood red as an alarm began to sound from somewhere above her. The hologram flickered into a similarly angry color.

“You are trespassing on sacred ground! You will leave immediately !”

“Hey now, there’s no need to be rude,” Entrapta’s hair returned her tools to the bag, “I’m a friend of Adora’s. This place is a temple to She-Ra, and as a friend of She-Ra, I’m welcome here. Now,” she rubbed her hands together, “tell me everything !”

The hologram froze, and the alarm cut off momentarily. “You are a friend of Adora? Then why is she not here with you?”

“Oh, that’s because she is currently under arrest for the murder of Shadow Weaver, and is probably going to be executed for treason. Oh!” 

One of her hair tendrils smacked Entrapta on the forehead.

“That’s why I’m here. Adora said you showed her that Shadow Weaver was erasing her mind by simulating those memories. How does that work? How are you able to transform grey matter into digital data? Scratch that, how are you able to quantify grey matter in the first place?”

She clicked her recorder on and held it in front of Light Hope’s face. 

“Adora is...in danger?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said. To be fair, she did admit to killing Hordak’s second-in-command. So I don’t blame him for being cautious.”

Entrapta didn’t know if artificial intelligences could feel emotions like Emily did, but from the expression on Light Hope’s face, they probably could.

“Adora must not be harmed. She is too important-”

“I agree!” Entrapta interrupted. “She’s the only living person who can translate the First Ones language, and we’ve made great progress together. The Horde’s war strategy is centered around her powers as She-Ra. And,” she fidgeted with a hair tendril, “she’s my friend. I...I care about her too. I don’t want her to get hurt either.”

Light Hope stared down at her.

The hologram flickered.

The harsh red light disappeared, the atrium once again lit up by pleasant blues.

“What must I do to prove Adora’s innocence? That she is telling the truth in regards to the memories I showed her?”

“Well…” Entrapta tapped her chin. Light Hope’s very existence gave credibility to Adora’s story. But would that be enough? It wasn’t like she could take the A.I. back with her to the Horde, seeing as it wasn’t bound to any one surface. “If I could see a demonstration of these memory simulations, Hordak would trust my word.”

“That is agreeable.”

“Also, Emily can record you telling me what happened! Video and audio evidence, along with my word, would be more than enough to get Adora out of trouble.”

Emily beeped in affirmation next to her, her recording software powering on.

Light Hope clasped her hands together. “Adora activated my main systems roughly one week ago. Because they had been offline for centuries, I was unable to gain control over them initially. Adora was scanned by a rogue machine, and her memories used as the data for the simulation chambers. She underwent several simulations, until I was finally able to power down the rooms and reveal myself to her. In the time since Adora has left, I have reviewed all of her files - her memories, rather,” she amended. “I have discovered more evidence of Shadow Weaver’s manipulations; both in memories that she attempted to erase and events that Adora failed to recognize as suspicious.”

Emily beeped to confirm that Light Hope’s testimony was recorded and backed up. "Okay, that's great!" said Entrapta. "Now," she hurriedly went on, "show me the simulation rooms!"

Light Hope’s expression flickered for a moment, going from robotically smooth to annoyed at her excitement. Entrapta’s mind squealed at how complex the A.I. was, that it could feel and express complex emotions, and review two decades of memories in the span of a week! Oh, the knowledge it must possess!

In sharp contrast, her heart flinched at the disdainful look. Entrapta understood that people didn’t like her being as excited and as expressive as she was - excluding Hordak. But she was only trying to show her interest in Light Hope’s capabilities. Whenever someone inquired to her about her work, Entrapta loved to show off. Surely, an A.I. who had been dormant for centuries would feel the same way.

But the moment passed, and Light Hope returned to being decidedly neutral. 

“I will demonstrate to you the capabilities and authenticity of these simulations. I will show you the memory that drove Adora to do what she did.”

And with a wave of her translucent white hand, the Crystal Castle disappeared. The creeping corridors of the Fright Zone burst into existence, as if Entrapta had been blind and could only now see. She had to admit: the simulation was impressive. Exceptionally accurate to the real Fright Zone, down to the seven sided bolts used in the door frames. 

A pair of gangly teenagers bumped into her, but they continued walking without acknowledging the deviation. Entrapta caressed the wall closest to her; it felt real when her hand hovered millimeters above the surface, but when she tried to lean on it, the wall gave way. 

Entrapta let out a small ‘oof’ as she landed on her side in an entirely different section of the Fright Zone, noticeably redder than the green corridors.

Shadow Weaver stood in front of teenaged versions of Adora and Catra. 

Entrapta split her attention between listening to Shadow Weaver and examining the simulation more. She’d read the transcripts of Adora’s and Catra’s interrogations several times on the journey over, so she only needed to listen for a few key phrases. And based on the content of what they had said happened, Entrapta would rather listen as little as she could. Adora was a good person; she didn’t deserve what had happened to her.

Curiously, Entrapta began to notice several flaws in the simulation. The shadows being thrown along the walls were inconsistent, growing and shrinking at random without respect to the flickering lights. The crackling of the Black Garnet in the center of the room cut out at times, and yet at others it seemed to thunder. 

Hmmm. Since Shadow Weaver was dead and no longer had use of the Black Garnet, Entrapta wondered if she could convince Hordak to let her experiment on it. Another one of her dream projects potentially coming to life!

Entrapta wandered over to stand between Shadow Weaver and Adora. Adora’s eyes seemed to be faulty as well, jumping between a soft ocean blue and hard ice. Catra’s eyes flipped back and forth in their dual colors: blue and yellow, then yellow and blue. 

“I’m sorry,” young Adora begged, “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I promise I’ll be better. But please , don’t do anything to Catra. It wasn’t her fault!”

Entrapta winced at the terrified look on Adora’s face. The transcripts hadn’t gone into specific detail, but Shadow Weaver was just simply cruel . 

“The Horde has high expectations for you, Adora. We are all ex pecting you to live up to them, and I will do evvverything in my power to ensure you do so. I know you are fond of Catra, so against my better judge ment, I will allow her to stayyyyy.”

Shadow Weaver stalked behind Adora and Catra, before grabbing the backs of their heads. Harsh red lightning sprang to life as the two girls howled in pain.

Shadow Weaver’s voice made absolutely no sense in its inflections. The woman jumped between comforting and angry and cruel and sickly sweet all in the same sentence, occasionally even the same word. Even for someone thought to be a world class manipulator, such a feat should have been impossible.

Her voice reminded Entrapta of her very first experiments. Crude amalgamations that worked, but were noticeably off . Distinct parts of very different wholes.

And it was probably just the fact that she’d been awake for over thirty hours, and staring at her computer or data pad screens for at least twenty of those, but Entrapta could swear the simulation flickered and broke at the very edges of her vision.

Before she could test that theory, the simulation ended. 

Light Hope reappeared in front of her. “Was this enough evidence to satisfy Hordak of Adora’s loyalty?”

“Yep! The simulation lined up perfectly with Adora and Catra’s testimonies. Also, your very existence might have been enough. I don’t think either of them are smart enough to dream up of a super advanced artificial intelligence like you as justification to commit murder!” 

Entrapta paused. 

“Which is a bad thing. The murder part, not the artificial intelligence part.”

“If that is all that is required for Adora’s safety, I must ask you to leave this facility.”

“Sure! After I ask you a few more questions, and could you give me a tour? I promise I won’t touch anything.” 

Yeah, she was definitely going to touch everything. 

Entrapta tried to step towards one of the open corridors to the side, but the floor shot up around her, blocking off all routes except the one that led out of the ruin.

Light Hope re-appeared in front of her. 

“I have tolerated your presence on this sacred ground,” she said in a sharp tone, “because it was necessary to ensure Adora’s safety. Now that you have given your word that she will be safe, there is no more need for you here.” 

“Okay, okay, fine .” Entrapta knew when she had overstayed her welcome; when people grew tired of being around her. If Light Hope didn’t want her around anymore, so be it. 

Her shoulders slumped as she trudged back up the entry ramp. It’d been everything she’d dreamed of when thinking about exploring an intact First Ones ruin. The architecture, the mythology, the alien nature of it all. She just didn’t expect to get kicked out as soon as she was no longer useful. Entrapta thought she had done a pretty good job of keeping her excitement in check, but apparently she hadn’t, if Light Hope couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

Entrapta set the skiff’s course for the Fright Zone, before plopping down in a chair formed by her hair. A little research always brightened her mood. Learning an alien language was just the right puzzle to take her mind off things.

Well, she could think of one person who would have been perfect for soothing her emotions, just by their presence alone. But he wasn’t here right now.

Before she could begin practicing her fluency in Eternian (as a few translations had revealed the First Ones true name), her data pad buzzed with a notification.

------------------------------------------------------------

Hordak stepped back from the towering metal frame after bolting down the last of the anchoring plates. The containment field for their portal was crude - embarrassing in its savagery - but given the circumstances, it would suffice. 

A part of him wanted to test the portal immediately, to know if the artifact recovered from the First Ones ruin was powerful enough to contain the portal’s excess energies. Another urged him to wait for Entrapta to return. The project was just as much the fruit of her labor as it was of his vast intellect. To rob her of her moment of triumph after a month of relentless effort felt wrong.

His hand hovered over the activation lever, drifting closer and farther away as he fought with himself. Why was he being so emotional? When the portal activated, and Horde Prime welcomed him with open arms, he would never see Entrapta again. A year ago, the thought wouldn’t have even registered. But now, why did he feel pain at the idea of losing Entrapta?

Hordak knew. He knew what he felt, and it was shameful and disgusting and blasphemous .

To love another person, to not devote oneself solely to the service of Horde Prime, there was perhaps no greater sin. And Prime would know . Know that Hordak had fallen, been corrupted, become even more imperfect. Prime would see his every traitorous thought, his divided loyalties, and have nothing to do with him. Hordak would be reconditioned, wiped clean, purified of his imperfections.

He didn’t know whether he feared that fate or not.

On one hand, to be cleansed would mean a new body. The aches and corrosion that afflicted him, the deteriorating muscles that would never grow back stronger, all of that would be gone. Hordak would feel perfect, at peace. Whole. He would never remember the pain of being separated from Horde Prime for fifty years, trapped in a crippled body. He would be happy.

But - Hordak cursed himself for falling so far - he had come to enjoy parts of his life on Etheria. First and foremost had been his name. Hordak. Unique, powerful, a name that sent fear through the hearts of his enemies. He had created an empire with nothing but the remnants of his ship. He had built the strongest faction in a world that had stood united against him. And unlike his previous conquests under Horde Prime, Hordak’s legacy would be remembered for all time. The man who united Etheria and made it perfect. He would be more than the echo of Horde Prime.

Prime. 

Prime was eternal and all-powerful and all-knowing. He would one day reach into this empty dimension and pluck Etheria back into the wider universe; in a day, or a century, it mattered not. And when he found the empire that Hordak had built, there would be no mercy. Prime would raze Etheria to the ground, stamp out every last trace of his former brother’s treachery. Hordak would lose the promise of eternal life, of forever being under Prime’s light. Was conquering a worthless planet worth such a cost?

His treacherous heart pulled back towards Entrapta. 

Her presence alone made him feel in ways that he shouldn’t. Her voice was the most pleasant thing he had ever heard; its vibrancy, its authenticity, the way in which Entrapta never hid who she was around him. To Entrapta, Hordak was just her friend. Not her Lord, just a friend .

Once, Hordak would have balked at the notion. He was the Lord of the Horde, Conqueror of a Thousand Worlds. He did not have friends , only subordinates. But now, a part of him took comfort in the fact that Entrapta was his friend.

Her touch thrilled him, sending electricity through his veins. Under Horde Prime, Hordak had received his fair share of physical contact, but none of it had ever felt so inflaming. And over the past fifty years, he had not been touched outside of Imp sitting on his shoulders or in his lap. He began to ask Entrapta to hand him tools instead of retrieving them himself, just so that he could feel the soft brush of her hair against his hand.

Hordak dug his fingers into his face. 

Why did he continue to think these things, when he knew the punishment that would await him at the end? 

With a sharp clang, the door to the laboratory burst open, and Entrapta ran through it.

“Hordak!” She yelled, leaping to stand in front of him, her hair making a seat for her to be at eye level with him. “Adora was telling the truth! There is an intact First Ones ruin with an artificial intelligence! It was amazing !” 

Her expression drooped, which made Hordak’s heart rage.

“Until Light Hope kicked me out.” She put on a smile that felt forced. “But I was able to verify Adora and Catra’s testimonies, and Light Hope also told me she found more evidence of Shadow Weaver being untrustworthy. So…does that mean you aren’t going to have Adora executed?” She tentatively asked.

Hordak took a second to regain his bearings, to force on the mask of aloof indifference. “I suppose so. I trust in your judgement.” Entrapta’s face lit up at his slip of the tongue. “Both She-Ra and Force Captain Catra have been perfectly compliant since Shadow Weaver’s death. It would appear that their loyalty has only fractured in regards to Shadow Weaver, and not me. A fate she brought upon herself.”

Losing his second-in-command would set back the Horde’s efforts, but only temporarily. He had fought and succeeded under far worse odds than those facing him now. Thankfully, Shadow Weaver had died after Salineas had been conquered, where now only Brightmoon remained as a threat. And so long as She-Ra answered to him, the Rebellion would never again see victory.

“Yay!” Entrapta clapped her hands in front of his face, startling him from his thoughts. “I’ve been missing my every other day reading sessions with Adora, and there’s so much we need to catch up on.  I’ll need to ask her about everything she knows about the Crystal Castle!”

She turned around, ready to race off once again, despite the fact that She-Ra was still under arrest, and Entrapta did not have the power to lift his orders. A selfish part of Hordak wished for her to stay.

“She-Ra remains under arrest. Even though you have verified her honesty to me, it will take time for her release to be processed. I would ask that you remain with me, because,” he swept his hand toward the center of the room, “I believe our portal is complete.”

Entrapta didn’t turn around; instead, her hair wrapped around one of the pillars and slingshotted her right at Hordak. 

The stars paled in their beauty compared to the look on her face.

“The portal! How could I forget?!” Before he could respond, she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the center of the room. “I can’t believe we’re about to make history, and that you want me to be a part of it!”

Entrapta still held his hand as they stood in front of the portal, and Hordak could not find the will to remove it.

“Of course. Given your contributions to its development, it would be improper for me to begin without you.”

Entrapta squeezed his hand softly.

“Thank you.”

Hordak cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the current atmosphere. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Entrapta’s grin somehow turned brighter and wider as she grabbed the activation switch with both hands, yanking down as it clicked into position. The room began to hum as the portal drew power, the screens flickered then died, and the lights dimmed until only the emergency overheads remained lit. A steady vacuum burst into existence, pulling at stray tools, bits of metal, and his hair.

The skeleton of the portal locked into position, the outlines of the metal glowing. The laboratory trembled as a tiny point of green light burst into existence at the very center, before quickly beginning to expand. The winds whipped faster and faster, and the room grew brighter and brighter, as a swirling green energy vortex took shape within their machine.

With an ear splitting crack , the portal stabilized. 

The lights slowly fluttered back on, and the computers restarted as the portal drew less and less energy. It would still require a substantial amount to maintain the singularity, but Entrapta had accounted for that and reconfigured the entire electrical grid around this laboratory. 

They stood in stunned silence before the fruit of their labor.

Hordak understood that this portal was not enough to rip through space and time to deliver a message to Horde Prime, or for Prime to enter this empty dimension. But it was a stable building block for such efforts. They needed to test the properties of their portal, given its crude container, but they would make it work.

Entrapta vibrated in place next to him, then let out a high pitched laugh and turned to hug her robot assistant. “Can you believe it, Emily?! We just opened a portal ! An interdimensional portal! I just made the greatest scientific discovery in history!”

She turned to Hordak, smiling so warmly that Hordak’s brain malfunctioned.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help, though.”

Her tone was...different than their past interactions. Warmer and softer, in a way that snuck right past his already weak defenses.

“I…” Hordak coughed to buy himself a few seconds, “Ours is a mutually beneficial relationship. Without your help, our portal would not exist either. Your contributions were just as vital to its success.”

He wanted to say more, but did not trust his tongue. Luckily, Entrapta filled the silence.

“We should celebrate! An occasion like this deserves a celebration!”

Her words snapped Hordak out of his tumultuous thoughts. He did not celebrate. Even under the command of Horde Prime and after a successful campaign, he was not allowed to indulge himself in such a manner. And when he arrived on Etheria, he had found little to celebrate for. There was little fulfillment in his efforts compared to the life he had known before.

“I must disagree on that front. There is much to do, especially with Shadow Weaver’s death.” When Entrapta’s face fell, he clarified his intent. “If you wish to celebrate this achievement, you are welcome to. You are more than deserving. But I have many matters to attend to.”

“Why not?” Entrapta huffed. “You’ve been working just as hard as me! Besides, the world isn’t going to end if you have fun one time . You never leave your sanctum or our laboratory; you deserve a break just as much as I do! And I have the perfect idea: Princess Prom!”

She paused.

“Well, formally, it’s referred to as the ‘All Princess Ball’, but that’s a clunky mouthful. ‘Princess Prom’ flows much more smoothly. I’m a princess, so I get an invite, and I can bring one guest. So…”

Entrapta twiddled her thumbs, all of her courage and vigor disappearing in an instant. For once, she was unable to meet Hordak’s eyes.

“Do...would you want to go with me? I’d really love it if you did.” She quietly asked.

Hordak froze.

“Surely there are other, more suitable candidates,” he said carefully. “To be seen with me at your side; it would invite a flurry of hate towards you. You would forever alienate yourself from the rest of the world if you arrived with the Lord of the Horde as your guest.”

His words sparked a little fire into Entrapta. “I know that, and I don’t care! They never cared about me; they were perfectly happy to let me work at my castle forever, away from everyone else. I care about what other people think of me - but I also want to be happy. And nothing would make me happier than you going with me.”

“But...why?” Hordak was one of the worst options for a social event. His expertise was in military strategy, scientific exploration, and leadership. Not exchanging pointless civilities with all manner of stuffy nobles. “Why not Adora? Is she not suitable? She would certainly draw less ire onto you than I would.”

Entrapta gave a pained smile.

“Adora is nice, but she’s just a friend. We see each other a lot, but that’s mainly work-related. And I don’t care about her like I care about you.”

She took a deep breath.

“I...I’ve never been that good at relationships and love and all that. I tend to be too excitable , too annoying. I overanalyze things and make stuff awkward. I’ve tried to make it work, but it always ends poorly. But this? This feels different.” 

She let out a small laugh. 

“I know people talk about there being ‘the one’, the perfect match that you’re destined to find, but that’s just a children’s tale. There’s no evidence to prove such a notion. Life doesn’t have to make sense. Oh, and now I’m rambling...again…”

Entrapta’s hair smacked her across the cheek as her mouth twisted. Hordak resisted the urge to reach out a comforting hand.

“Why am I so bad at this? Urrrghh!” 

She clenched her jaw. 

“I’m in love with you!”

Hordak did not react, because how could he to such a revelation? 

Entrapta flinched at his silence.

“I know that’s a lot to throw at you, but ever since our first week working together, something changed. Before that, we were friends because we messaged each other all the time, and I really got to know you . Not the Lord of the Horde; Hordak . I understood you in a way that I couldn’t with anyone else.”

“And then we started working together in-person,” she continued, fidgeting with her hair, “and it just happened . You were already my best friend, and then one day I woke up, and you were more than that.”

Hordak remained locked in place, eyes frozen to a blackened section of the wall.

“It’s- It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” Entrapta’s voice quickly lost its energy, a dull monotone seeping in. “I understand that love is inherently irrational and doesn’t have to be reciprocated.”

Hordak stiffly walked over to a nearby table.

“And I know that you are really busy with the war and this portal and maybe you don’t have the time for relationships, or maybe you don’t want one to begin with! That’s also fine!” Entrapta’s defeated tone begged to differ. “If so, we can just...forget this ever happened. I’ll be more professional around you, and I’m sorry if-”

The shriek of metal tearing apart beneath his hands cut through the room.

“No.”

Hordak clenched his fists tighter, feeling the metal press against this skin.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You are a...good friend. You are not the problem in this situation.”

A pause.

“ I am.”

Entrapta sprung back to life, moving to sit on the table beside him with a worried look. “Problem? What are you talking about?”

His fingers dug deeper into the table. “These feelings you are talking about. They are a problem...because I feel the same way. And I should not. Cannot.”

At his confession, the Entrapta of old returned, a beautiful look on her face. “ You do? ” Then she remembered what else he had said and frowned. “Why is loving me a bad thing?”

“It is not what I was created for,” Hordak’s voice broke. “It would be dereliction of duty for me to pursue such selfish desires when there is still work to be done. I could never betray Horde Prime in such a way.”

“Horde Prime?” Entrapta gently asked.

“He is my brother, my creator. He gave me the gift of life, and in return I am to serve him in his noble war to bring order to the universe. He gave me a purpose. To divide my loyalties between him and you would mean betrayal.”

At his mention of the wider universe, Entrapta jerked in her seat, hair slapping over her mouth as she focused intently on Hordak. When he finished, she sat in silence for a few moments, eyes glittering in excitement while her face scrunched together.

But her response was not one he expected.

“Why do you say that loving me would mean betraying your brother? You’re allowed to love more than one person. Look at me and Emily, or Catra and Adora! We all love other people, but we are still loyal to you in one way or the other.”

“It is not so simple!” Hordak gnashed his teeth. “You have never known the life that I have lived, the expectations placed upon me! I was given a purpose, a destiny! It is all I have ever known. I am a conqueror - Horde Prime’s greatest general. I exist to bring order to the universe and to aid my brother however I can.”

“Hey!” Entrapta countered, “you don’t exist for a specific reason. None of us do. We get to choose what happens in our lives.”

“I do not know if I can!” Hordak bit out.

Silence enveloped the room at his confession.

“I...I have lived for over one hundred years. I have seen more worlds than I can remember. All through the eyes of a conqueror. It is what I am. If I stray from that path, I do not know what I will be.”

Entrapta gently placed her hands on his shoulders, even as he refused to look up.

“I love you, Hordak...” 

His breath hitched at her soft words.

“...But that doesn’t mean I will stop being a scientist. And in a way, it makes me better at what I do, because now it isn’t just a project. Yes, our portal is astonishing, but I enjoyed our time working on it together more than the final result. It can be the same for you. You don’t have to change who you are just because you love me.”

“But I was created for-”

“That doesn’t mean anything ,” she interrupted, her voice taking on an uncharacteristically-hard tone. “You are more than what Horde Prime says you are. Emily was a combat drone, engineered to fight and kill. I found her on the scrapheap and fixed her. Turns out, she’s an amazing assistant for me! She may have been created for violence, but that has nothing to do with who she actually is.”

And then, without warning, Entrapta was hugging him.

No one had ever hugged him before.

He sagged into her arms. Entrapta’s embrace felt good , filling a hole in his chest he didn’t know existed. It pushed back the aching pains in his bones, soothed his tormented thoughts.

One of her hands drifted from his shoulders to the back of his head, then slowly - so very slowly - she began to softly stroke through his short hair. And this final act of love doomed him. He wanted this - wanted Entrapta - so badly . He wanted to feel her warm touch, her comforting embrace for the rest of his life.

A quickly-dwindling part of his mind shouted at Hordak, screaming of the pain he would face when Horde Prime learned of this betrayal. Bad enough to have these traitorous thoughts, but to act on them?

But Hordak didn’t care any more. He had been given a taste of what he could have, who he could have, and now he was hopelessly addicted. 

Entrapta pulled back with a worried look on her face. “I’m sorry! Was that not okay, the touching? I should have asked! You just really looked like you needed a hug!”

Hordak’s voice came out breathy and quiet. “It is alright.” 

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, to properly explain his feelings.

“Your kindness is...appreciated. I would-” 

Entrapta’s eyes were so distracting in how they glittered. 

“I would like to reciprocate your feelings.” 

Why was it so difficult for him to speak his heart’s desire?

He tried again. “I would like to begin a relationship with you...I have no experience doing so, but...I wish to try.”

Entrapta squealed and reached to hug him again, but stopped herself, drawing her arms back.

“I would not mind if...if you hugged me again,” Hordak offered, both to alleviate her guilt and because he wanted to feel her touch again.

Entrapta crashed into him so quickly that he stumbled backwards. She buried her face against the crook of his neck as she held him even tighter than before. The ghosting of her breath against his skin sent shivers down Hordak’s spine.

He brushed his hands together, the small fragments of the now-destroyed table clinking onto the floor, before carefully hugging her back. It was if her body had been made to fit perfectly within his arms, the way she pressed against his chest.

Some of the tension lifted from Hordak’s shoulders as Entrapta’s body heat began to warm him up. He knew that partners could do more than just hug, but to him, this was more than enough. To know that Entrapta loved him, to hold her in his arms as she did to him. To be vulnerable without fear. 

Entrapta hummed beneath him, the vibrations against his skin making his knees tremble.

“I love you,” she mumbled.

His heart stuttered at the thought. Even though he was the Lord of the Horde, even though the rest of the world hated him and would hate her just as fiercely - she loved him all the same, for the man he was, not for his title or power. 

Perhaps he was getting caught up in the moment, but when he felt those words against his skin and how they burrowed straight into his heart, Hordak found a hidden well of courage deep within him. After all, he had gone this far, and it had been ecstasy, so why not go a little further? 

Eternal life seemed drab in comparison. Yes, there had been a purpose in serving Horde Prime, and there had been comfort in that life. But reflecting on it, Hordak found that he had only been existing, drifting between campaigns.

But here, he could live . He could experience this wonderful sensation every day for the rest of his life. He didn’t have the heart to ask Entrapta to lift her head from where it rested against the crook of his neck. Instead, he leaned down. 

“I love you too,” he murmured into her hair.

When he returned her declaration of love, Entrapta gave a happy sob. Hordak heard more than saw her hair moving around them, the faint rustling as it moved to encircle the two lovers. Even though he was prepared, he still flinched when it firmly wrapped around his back and neck, pulling him into Entrapta tighter. But after the initial brush, he found its presence comforting. Her hands drifted up to his head again, stroking through his hair.

His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of her small fingers touching him so reverently. Never had he allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He knew how strong Entrapta’s hair was - watched it lift up machines that weighed hundreds of pounds like they were nothing more than paperweights - and here he was, surrendering himself to it as it enveloped him. 

A different kind of warmth began to flood through his body; its origin the point where Entrapta’s hands held him so lovingly. It washed away the constant pains, the bone-weariness that always plagued him. It made him forget about the Horde, of the war, even of Horde Prime.

Love.

This time, Hordak felt no shame as he buried himself in Entrapta’s arms.

Chapter Text

Adora winced as she stumbled on the steps in Hordak’s throne room, her stiff muscles still slowly waking up after a week without physical activity. The two guards holding her arms didn’t stop to let her regain her balance, dragging her up a few steps before she gained her footing. Since she was only midway up the steps - where Hordak couldn’t see her - Adora scowled at her escorts. It wasn’t like she was going to try and escape! Catra was still imprisoned, and her sword was still confiscated - not to mention the fact that both her hands were laser cuffed.

As the head of Hordak’s throne came into view, she wiped the scowl off her face. 

When her little procession reached the platform, Hordak tilted his gaze towards her, perfectly comfortable on his throne. But two things quickly stole her attention away from him.

The first: her sword, propped up against the armrest of the throne. Hordak held the hilt in his metal hand, thumb rubbing against the golden pommel. As soon as it entered her vision, the slightest wave of warmth washed through Adora’s body, as the runestone faintly glowed. For a moment, all she could hear was the hum of her sword calling to her. And just as quickly, the sounds of the outside world came crashing back in.

Maybe she was just tired, and hungry, and irritated, and upset that Catra had been needlessly hurt, but seeing Hordak holding her sword sent a bolt of anger through her heart. How dare he take her sword? After everything she had sacrificed for him, for the Horde, how dare he hurt Catra? 

Adora sucked in a deep breath through her nose, willing her heart rate to return to a calmer level. It was alright to be irritable after what she had gone through, but Hordak’s measures were logical. If she were in his position, she would have done the same. Catra’s involvement was an unfortunate accident.

And then she saw Catra, and her anger came roaring back. 

Like Adora, Catra had her own pair of guards restraining her, standing off to the side of the throne. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, not that Catra would have tried anything. Her beautiful and fluffy mane of hair - a source of pride - was now tangled and dirty, so twisted and unkempt. She sagged in the arms of her guards, lacking her usual confident posture. Perhaps most infuriating of all: her headpiece was gone.

The headpiece that Catra had found deep in the rubble pile when they were kids. The headpiece she proclaimed had belonged to an ancient race of rulers, of which she was their descendant, and then made Adora mockingly bow down to her. A source of individuality when everything else that made Catra... Catra ...was criticized or beaten into submission. It had become a part of Catra - of her identity - to the point that she never took it off in public. Hell, when they were cadets, she slept with it on, even though she would complain the next day to Adora about how sore her face was.

Only recently, when Adora had been promoted to Force Captain and given her own private quarters, had Catra begun to take it off. And even then, she’d been uncomfortable the first few times, despite Adora’s reassurances.

As the guards marched Adora to stand in front of Hordak, Catra lifted her head, their eyes meeting. Adora’s heart lurched at the black circles beneath Catra’s eyes, visible even through her fur, and the brittle look in her eyes.

Catra tried to lurch towards Adora, but the guards kept their iron grip on her arms, holding her back. She opened her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut when Hordak spoke.

“Entrapta has returned from her excursion to the Whispering Woods. Your testimonies have been verified, with more evidence being discovered of Shadow Weaver’s treachery.”

Adora and Catra exchanged tentative looks out of the corners of their eyes.

Hordak’s lip curled. “It would appear that despite your rash decisions, you remain loyal to the Horde. And for that, I will be merciful.”

With a wave of his hand, one of Adora’s guards uncuffed her.

“However, I will not tolerate flagrant disregard of the chain of command again. You were fortunate this time that Shadow Weaver was revealed to be conspiring against me, but the next time you have an inkling that there is a traitor in my ranks,” his eyes narrowed, “you will not take it upon yourself to handle the situation.”

Adora nodded and gave a stiff salute. Catra muttered a quiet, “Yes, Lord Hordak.”

He smoothly rose from his throne, taking her sword with him. Hordak seemed...livelier, than their previous interactions. He stood up straighter, eyes burned brighter, and his voice more powerful. 

“Both of you will be reinstated to your previous positions. After all, you have been effective so far.” He stopped in front of Adora, offering her the hilt of her sword. “And you will be expected to do so again. The Horde will besiege Bright Moon in the coming months, and I expect She-Ra in the vanguard of the assault.”

Her fingers reverently grasped the hilt of her sword, her heart calming as Hordak finally returned what was rightfully hers. She shuddered at the wave of warmth that surged through her body at the simple contact, a golden flash lighting the room as her vambrace reappeared on her forearm.

Oh, she’d missed this.

Adora bowed her head subserviently. “I understand, Lord Hordak.”

He arrogantly smiled down at her.

“Good. The two of you are dismissed.”

They both saluted Hordak, then turned and made their way down the steps. Adora had no issue with them now that she had her sword and magic back, but Catra went much more gingerly. Adora moved to walk that much closer to Catra, hoping to be a comforting presence until they could reach their room.

Then the entrance whisked open, and a purple blur shot through, just barely screeching to a halt before crashing into them.

“Oh! Hi, Adora!” Entrapta waved. “And Catra. It’s great to see that you’re not dead or about to be dead! You’re welcome by the way!”

“Uh, thanks?” Adora offered. 

“The Crystal Castle was so cool,” Entrapta continued, not noticing how tired they were. “Even though Light Hope was being far too defensive about her secrets! Although the simulation rooms were rather underwhelming: way too many glitches for an otherwise pristine technological marvel.”

Adora gave a weary smile. “Look, we’re kinda busy right now. Maybe we can catch up another time?”

Entrapta’s hair playfully slapped herself on the head.

“Right. You two were just under arrest for over a week in extremely stressful conditions, afraid that you’d be executed, the whole time separated from the woman you loved! I get that.” 

A pause. 

“Er, the ‘extremely stressful conditions part’.” she clarified. “I’ve never been in danger of being executed before.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Adora deadpanned.

Adora took Catra’s hand and started to walk past Entrapta, but a hair tendril shot across their path.

“I almost forgot!” Entrapta began to dig through the pockets of her overalls. “Just hold on one second. Aha!”

She pulled out Catra’s headpiece .

“Where did you get that?” Catra breathed. “The guards confiscated it when I was arrested…”

“In a room. Somewhere in the Fright Zone.” Entrapta shrugged. “I was exploring the ventilation system and the rooms connected to it, looking for a part that Emily needed. I found this on a table, and seeing as you were going to be released soon, I thought I’d bring it back to you.”

She hesitantly offered the peace offering to Catra, who reverently took it. 

“I…” Catra ghosted her thumbs over the edges of her headpiece, before pulling her head up to meet Entrapta’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Entrapta. For this, and for helping free me and Adora.”

Adora smiled at the lack of bite in her words, compared to how she usually was around Entrapta.

“You’re welcome!” Entrapta’s eyes lit up as she clenched her fists together in glee. “And it did mean I got to explore the Crystal Castle, which was the experience of a lifetime! Oh! Do you think you could convince Light Hope to be less abrasive?”.

Adora scratched her head. “Uh, I can try?”

“Great! She was unnecessarily mean.”

The three of them stood in awkward silence as the conversation fizzled out. Catra leaning against Adora’s shoulder. Entrapta vibrating with her usual excitement, her focus constantly jumping between the two of them and something in the throne room. Adora itching to finally reunite with Catra, alone.

“So,” Adora took Catra’s hand, heart jumping at the feeling of soft fur around her fingers, “see you around, Entrapta.”

“Bye!”

Entrapta shot around them, vaulting up the stairs leading to Hordak’s throne.

In turn, Adora and Catra left the throne room, hand in hand. With Shadow Weaver dead, it wasn’t like anyone would try to stop them.

Not that anyone could.

When Catra carefully pressed her headpiece back on, the last clouds in Adora’s heart disappeared. Shadow Weaver was dead. Hordak still trusted them. She had her sword back, and Catra her headpiece. She was going to lead the attack on Bright Moon. Everything had turned out great!

A smile grew on her face as they walked back to their room, Adora swinging their hands back and forth. She couldn’t wait to eat real food for the first time in a week, already salivating at the stash of grey ration bars she was going to demolish. She couldn’t wait to lay in a bed that didn’t feel like it was made of rocks.

Most of all, she couldn’t wait to hold Catra in her arms, to feel her lips against her own. To feel her warm body. For her tail to curl around her leg. To know that Catra was safe.

They stepped into their room - their safe haven - and Adora’s heart soared at how Catra’s shoulders loosened, at the audible exhale she made. As soon as the door whisked shut, and the lock engaged, she buried Catra in a crushing hug. Catra hugged her back just as fiercely, claws digging into her back. Adora pressed a soft kiss to Catra’s ear, who sobbed against her chest.

“Don’t scare me like that again. Promise me .”

Adora flinched at Catra’s brittle tone.

“I promise. I’m sorry for passing out and worrying you.”

“Adora, this wasn’t like Salineas. You didn’t just ‘pass out’; you almost died !”

“I-”

Catra pulled back from her embrace, gripping both of Adora’s arms with her claws.

“I waited. I waited so long. But you didn’t come back.”

Adora flinched at having made Catra so worried. She hadn’t meant to pass out.

“Catra-”

“Let me finish.” Catra’s tone left no room for disagreement. “You didn’t come back, so I went to find you. I found Shadow Weaver dead with your sword in her chest. And you…”

She choked.

“...you were unconscious on the floor. Barely breathing. Your skin was so pale. I had to carry you to the medical wing and tell them that you’d been in an accident with Shadow Weaver’s lightning. They cut off the tatters of your shirt and-”

Catra stopped, covering her mouth with her hand. Adora took her free hand and soothingly rubbed her thumb along the back of it.

“It was awful,” she whispered, “the most horrific wound I’ve seen. And I couldn’t carry your sword and you at the same time, so I ran back to grab it. I know it can magically heal you. But when I got back to Shadow Weaver’s sanctum, some guards had found her.”

Catra’s ears flattened against her scalp.

“Hordak was there, too. And your sword was still pinning Shadow Weaver’s body into the wall. He had me arrested the moment he saw me. I tried to explain that Shadow Weaver was a traitor, but he wouldn’t listen.” 

Her eyes began to water.

“I begged him to have your sword taken to you, so you could heal! But the guards dragged me out before he answered. And when he questioned me a few days later, he wouldn’t say if you were alive or not.”

Adora’s hand tightened around Catra’s.

“They didn’t hurt you, right ?”

“Not physically,” she said with a cold laugh. “I answered all of Hordak’s questions, told him more than was necessary so that he would believe me. And then nothing happened for another few days - except for my meals being delivered - until today. Just me and an empty cell, losing my mind, wondering if I had lost you…”

“ You didn’t ,” Adora softly cradled Catra’s face, “and you never will. Shadow Weaver can’t hurt us any more, and Hordak trusts us again. We’ll be fine. I’m done letting us get hurt.”

She oh-so-gently tilted Catra’s head up, and pressed their lips together. Catra’s other hand - the one Adora wasn’t holding - instinctively moved to the back of her head, Adora deepening the kiss as she felt claws softly trace through her hair.

Catra groaned into her mouth as she dipped them onto the bed. She pulled off her shirt, but then Catra stiffened under her.

“What is it?” Adora softly asked.

Catra drifted one hand to her chest, tracing down from her collarbone to ribcage. 

Except Adora could barely feel her hand.

“It’s...it’s still bad,” Catra rasped out, “but it was so much worse when I found you.”

Adora looked down.

Angry red burns covered her chest, stretching from above her breasts and ending at her stomach. In some areas, her skin was blackened and scarred over. In others, it was sickly yellow and swollen. From the center of the mass of burns, a sporadic network of lighter red webbing stretched to the tops of her shoulders and down to her hips, reaching around to her back.

Adora experimentally grazed one of the burns, only registering the slightest bit of sensation.

“It isn’t that bad. I can’t feel any of this.”

Catra didn’t need to know that she had cried from the pain the first time she woke up. Besides, now that she had her sword back, it wasn’t an issue.

“ Adora ,” Catra growled, “you can’t feel anything because your nerves are destroyed .” She ground her teeth together. “I wish that bitch were still alive, just so I could kill her again for what she did to you.”

“Me too. But she won’t be hurting us anymore.” Adora said with a dark grin.

Catra smiled up at her; for the first time since they were reunited, she looked happy, without reservation.

“Yeah, she’s fucking dead.” 

She laughed to herself, a beautiful melody that spurred Adora’s heart.

“Shadow Weaver is fucking dead.” 

Another laugh. 

Seeing Catra so happy, so elated that Shadow Weaver was dead, made Adora feel ecstatic. The glint in her eyes, the lit in her tone, the crooked smile that wouldn’t go away, all of it told Adora she did the right thing. 

Before, when she couldn’t have known just how happy Catra would be, she’d felt empty from killing Shadow Weaver. Not regretful, just...empty. 

But now, Adora felt vindicated. 

She leaned down to kiss Catra again, cutting off another laugh. Catra smiled against her lips. 

“I love you,” she murmured, eyes dancing.

Adora couldn’t help the dopey grin that broke out as she touched their foreheads together.

“I love you too. And no one is going to come between us again.”

And if anyone tried to, there was only one fate that awaited them.

“Are you sure you want to?” Catra asked, eyes noticeably raking down her figure. “I don’t want you to strain yourself. Just because you can’t feel anything doesn’t mean you can’t make your injuries worse.”

“Do you want to? Just holding you in my arms, kissing you, seeing your smile…”

Catra blushed as Adora continued.

“...feeling your purr, looking into your eyes, all of that is more than enough for me. I missed you so much .”

Catra reached up and grabbed her shoulders, before gently pulling her down.

“Let’s just cuddle for a while.”

Adora let out a happy sigh as she embraced Catra.

A steady purr grew from Catra’s chest, vibrating through her own. Their legs quickly tangled together, drawing them even closer together. They traded kisses and quiet murmurs of affection, until Catra’s ear twitched and flicked Adora in the eye.

Adora snorted as she drew back, Catra giving her a sheepish look. After that little mishap, they resituated, with Catra’s head buried against her neck. While she pressed soft kisses against Catra’s ears and head, gently brushing out the tangled mass of hair with her hands, Catra alternated between nuzzling against her chin and giving sharp - but slow - bites to her neck.

The last of the tension drained from Adora’s body as she felt Catra’s love: the comforting heat of it, both from where Catra wrapped around her body and from the sharp points dotted across her neck. Catra was safe. They were safe.

Her hands slowed, her kisses became less and less frequent, and soon Adora drifted off into peaceful sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------

Catra slowly traced the lighting burns along Adora’s shoulders and back.

“You aren’t in any pain, right?” She asked for the fifth time in the last half hour. “I should go grab some more medicine and painkillers. Just in case you need them.”

She tried to stand up, but Adora pulled her back onto the bed.

“ I’m fine ,” Adora sighed, “they hurt when I first woke up, but it hurts less and less each day. And compared to this morning - now that I have my sword back - I feel great! You don’t need to keep worrying about me. She-Ra’s magic will heal me well enough; it’s already working.”

Catra moved to sit in front of Adora, frowning as her ears pressed down.

“I’m your girlfriend. I’m supposed to worry and care about you. If I got hurt, what would you be doing?”

“First, I would find whoever hurt you, and make them regret it. Then, I’d make sure you were okay. Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “I wonder if I could use my healing powers on you.”

Catra raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, that’s different,” she stuttered, “I’m She-Ra, and you’re not. I can take more- Wait, shit, I didn’t mean-”

Adora stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts, trying to properly phrase what she meant. Thankfully, Catra hadn’t taken any offense, just leaning back with a small smirk on her face.

“Sorry,” she began, “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re weaker than me or anything like that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Adora continued. “It’s just that...I’m She-Ra, and now I have an insanely high pain tolerance and magical healing powers. Me getting hurt is different than you getting hurt. Look at me…”

She gestured at her burned chest.

“...anyone else would be lying in bed, writhing in pain and hooked up on painkillers. But I feel fine! Even when I didn’t have my sword on me, I could feel myself slowly healing, and now that I have it back, the pain is mostly gone.”

Catra’s brow furrowed.

“Wait, you still had your magic without the sword? How?”

“I don’t know,” Adora scratched her head, “I could never control it, and it wasn’t nearly as strong as it is right now, but I could still feel it at random moments. Watch!”

Now that she had her sword back, Adora tried to summon the golden tendrils of light, to form a sword hilt in her hand. She scrunched her eyebrows together and clenched her jaw as she tried to find and grab the magic. It felt like trying to pinch one droplet of water out of the ocean, but she slowly gathered more and more in her hand. A soft golden glow crept into existence in her palm, illuminating the room.

Catra let out a quiet gasp, but Adora remained focused on the magic. She was so close . She could feel the metal of the sword against her fingers. She felt just as invincible as when she was transformed, her magic flowing through her veins.

In the space where the sword’s blade would have been, the air flickered with an outline of golden static. Adora took a carefully measured breath, ready to make that one final surge of magic, and-

A loud knock shattered the moment, the light fizzling out. 

Adora growled and punched the mattress. She’d been so close! She didn’t know why, but the golden light felt important . 

Another knock.

“One second!” Adora called as she slipped her shirt back on. 

She disengaged the lock, the door whisking open to reveal a friend they hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Adora! Catra!” Scorpia cried out as she burst into the room. “Man, is it good to see you guys. I tried to visit you while the whole ‘under arrest for killing Shadow Weaver’ thing was going on, but Hordak was not playing around. But hey, you’re out now!”

Then she noticed Adora’s unkempt hair, the bruises on her neck, and Catra’s rumpled clothes, and let out a squeal.

“You guys finally got together! I am so happy for you two! Also, that means I don’t have to sit through any more unresolved romantic tension. Let me tell ya; it was weird .”

Adora and Catra exchanged a look.

“Were we that obvious?” Catra said with an embarrassed smile.

Scorpia gave a brilliant grin. “Oh yeah. The first time I met you guys, I thought you were already dating. It took me about a week before I realized you weren’t.” She chuckled, “you guys were so clueless.”

“Thanks,” Adora scratched her head, “and sorry that we haven’t caught up since Salineas.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Scorpia waved her off, “I missed you guys, but you were going on super important, super secret missions for Lord Hordak! And being adorably in love with each other. And being stuck in prison for a week. Wow, you guys are busy!”

Catra cleared her throat.

“It’s nice to see you again, but maybe we can catch up tomorrow? Adora and I are trying to make up for lost time.”

Scorpia blushed. “Sorry! I wasn’t trying to disturb you guys.” Then her eyes lit up. “Actually, I came here because I wanted to ask you something.”

She pulled out a scroll - why the hell did Scorpia have a scroll - as long as her pincer. The bottom unfurled and clanged to the ground, rolling from just inside the doorway to the side of the bed. Adora’s eyes glazed over at the sheer volume of tiny print.

“Entrapta and I were talking - since we’re both princesses - and since Entrapta’s first option couldn’t make it, we wanted to ask you guys if you would come as our guests. And now that you’re dating,” Scorpia swooned, “it would be so romantic.”

Catra kicked at the parchment beneath her feet.

“Uh, what is this?”

Scorpia chucked. “Oh, right. Do you know what Princess Prom is?”

Chapter Text

“Are you really not coming? It wouldn’t be a big deal if you did. Since Adora is She-Ra and She-Ra is the Princess of Power, she could get her own invite and plus one.”

Hordak sighed and turned to Entrapta, who was peering over his shoulder at his latest notes on the portal.

“No, I am not. I will not have She-Ra’s existence revealed to the world before the time is right.” He gently pushed her back with one hand, “And you need to be careful, now that you are dressed for your event.”

Entrapta wore a simple white dress shirt, with a maroon blazer over the top. A matching pair of black dress shoes replaced her usual well-worn, heavy, steel toed work shoes. For Etheria’s most prestigious and exclusive gala, she was underdressed. But compared to her normal decor of endless torn and stained overalls, Entrapta was radiant.

Well, more radiant than usual.

And yet - with her departure only an hour away - she insisted on working in their laboratory, despite Hordak’s protests. She waved off concerns of dirtying or tearing her clothes, flying around with her brand of maniacal energy, miraculously avoiding misfortune so far.

But now, they only had a few minutes before Entrapta left.

When he refused her persistent offer yet again, she pouted, compelling him to clarify his intent.

“I would...love,” Hordak still had trouble using the word as easily as Entrapta did, “to accompany you. But the risks it would invite on both of us are too great for what will be an inconsequential party. Your reputation and my health are more important than a night of revelry.”

Entrapta sagged. “I know; it’s just that Princess Prom only happens once a decade, and I want to take you with me as many times as I can. I don’t want to wait another ten years!”

Hordak took her hand.

“Ten years from now, when the war is over and the world is at peace, and you will not be vilified, I would want nothing more than to go with you.”

With his other hand, he gently affixed a green-and-black metal pin to her shirt. “But that does not mean I cannot be with you in spirit.”

Entrapta craned her neck to look at his pin upside down.

“What does it mean?”

“That is my general's insignia, from my time under Horde Prime. I understand that it is customary for partners to give each other a token of their affection for events such as this. And it will...let me be with you, in a way.”

Hordak understood that these gifts were supposed to be sentimental in value, but he was lacking in worldly possessions, and they had only just begun their relationship. He hoped it was good enough for-

Entrapta slammed into him, sending him stumbling as she hugged him tightly. When she pulled back, her eyes sparkled.

“ Thank you! I’ve never received a gift like this before!” 

Then she frowned.

“But I didn’t get you anything. Sorry, that was inconsiderate of me.”

“Nonsense. I gave this to you because I wanted to, not because I expected-”

Entrapta’s hair snapped, as a renewed look of excitement washed over her face.

“Hold that thought! I just had the perfect idea!”

“Which is?” Hordak asked.

Entrapta laughed as she pulled back from him, his chest feeling uncomfortably cold without her pressed against it.

“I can’t tell you, otherwise it would spoil the surprise! But trust me, you’ll love -!”

Emily beeped, shattering the moment between them.

“Oops! Gotta get going!”

In direct contrast to her words, Entrapta crashed back into him for one last hug. Hordak carefully returned the gesture, awkwardly trying to avoid creasing or rumpling her nice clothes. He savored the happy little sigh she made against his chest, the soothing weight of her hair pressed against his back.

“Enjoy yourself,” he murmured to her, “and stay safe.”

Entrapta gave him one last tight squeeze before darting out the room.

The moment she left, a dreary air settled within the laboratory. Aside from the ambient hum of machinery - which he had learned to tune out long ago - it was distractingly quiet in the room. Cold, too. Hordak glanced at the pile of tools next to him, at the portal that needed constant work, and could not find the will to continue. Without Entrapta’s constant chatter and movement and close presence, the task seemed too daunting. 

------------------------------------------------------------

Glimmer sighed as Bow zipped up the back of her dress, the silky smooth texture wonderfully contrasting the warm firmness of his hands. He paused to lift her hair up out of the way, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her neck. And just as quickly as the intimate moment began, it ended, as Bow moved to get dressed himself.

It was her fault, really. When their alarm clock went off, Bow had woken her up with a peck on the forehead. At that moment, if there hadn’t been any distractions, they would have had more than enough time to take this slow, to enjoy every second of getting ready for their first Princess Prom.

Except when Bow pulled back to stretch, the morning light reflected off his toned body in a very distracting way. Glimmer asked for another kiss. He leaned in and gave her a chaste one, but she refused to end it, digging her hands through his short hair and rolling over so that she was on top of him. His hands had wandered downward and well...they had less time now.

Glimmer laughed as she saw evidence of their delay. 

“Hey Bow?” She called.

He popped his head through his undershirt. “Yeah?”

She tapped a finger near the bottom of her neck. 

“You got a little something right here.”

He turned toward the mirror and found what Glimmer had just noticed: a dark bruise along the right crook of his neck. After running his fingers over the mark she had left, Bow rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

“Good thing I’m wearing a high collared shirt tonight.”

Glimmer smirked. “Like we don’t have plenty of experience covering this stuff up.”

Bow laughed as he buttoned his tuxedo. Once he pulled on his jacket, Glimmer grabbed her present for both of them from one of her drawers. She turned around just in time to catch Bow pulling out a similar case from the inside of his jacket pocket.

They met each other’s eyes and said, “You first!” at the exact same time.

“What about we show each other at the same time?” Bow asked.

Glimmer giggled. “Fair enough. You count us down!”

“Three.”

Glimmer grabbed the hinge of the lid with her off hand.

“Two.”

Bow simply flipped the case in his hands, positioning his thumb under the latch.

“One!” 

He flicked his gift open, and Glimmer excitedly yanked hers open.

Two pearly white teardrops sat on a velvet cushion within her box, a pair of earrings that her mother had gifted her on her eighteenth birthday. She’d never worn them, burying the box deep within her closet. Part of Glimmer’s reasoning was that she wanted to save the beautiful jewelry for her first Princess Prom, to give to Bow as she was doing now. The other yearned to join the war effort, and sentimental objects had no place on the battlefield.

Bow tenderly smiled as he saw her gift, not surprised in the slightest - which was perfectly okay! It wasn’t so much the reveal of the gift as it was the symbolism of it. To entrust another person with something invaluable to one’s own heart.

The case in Bow’s hand was rustic compared to the extravagant box she held, but charming in its own way. The neatly polished wood gleamed in the light, a dark oak color that beautifully contrasted his skin. And its contents…

Bow nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“I know that this isn’t how we’re supposed to do it officially, since you’re the princess and it has to be this big formal occasion, but I wanted the first time to just be the two of us.” 

Glimmer’s heart began to pound so hard she could barely hear Bow as he began to ramble.

“And this doesn’t have to mean anything. I still want to wait as long as you want, and I’m happy no matter what as long as I’m with you and-”

He stopped as Glimmer placed her box on the bed, then with only a slight tremble in her hand, took the case from his hands and gently placed it on top of the box. She took his hands in her own, tracing her thumbs along the backs. Her head dipped down to rest against his chest.

His heart was thumping just as fast as hers was. 

“Of course,” Glimmer whispered as she squeezed his hands. “Of course.”

And then she buried Bow in a crushing hug. 

He let out a happy sigh, chin dropping to rest on top of her head. He returned her embrace just as fiercely, with neither of them saying a word. Glimmer didn’t think she could speak right now, and judging from the slight tremble in Bow’s hands, neither could he. But they didn’t need to.

Time became irrelevant as they deepened their hold on each other. The world could be ending right outside the door, and Glimmer wouldn’t know, because all she could hear was Bow’s heartbeat slowly settling back down. All she could feel was the rise and fall of his chest and the familiar weight of his hands pressed against her back.

She blinked back the tears that had crept into the edges of her vision, letting out a happy sob as she let go of Bow, his eyes similarly glistening and an ecstatic grin on his face.

Glimmer reached for the case, grabbing the larger of the two rings as she took Bow’s hand. She slid it onto his shaking finger, revelling in the moment. Then, she squeezed his hand, enjoying the feeling of the ring against her skin.

Bow broke free of his trance, taking her ring. Glimmer shivered as the cool metal slowly slid down her finger. Then he pulled her in close…

...And gently kissed her, so soft and yet at the same time so deep. A choked up sound of elation escaped her lips as a few tears finally slipped out. Her hands scrambled to his shoulders - not to pull him in deeper, but to have something to hold herself up with. Bow laughed against her lips as he rested his forehead against hers.

And for the second time today, time became irrelevant.

------------------------------------------------------------

Adora stared at the bundle of formal wear spread out across their bed. Even with a week to process things, she still couldn’t believe it.

She was going to the biggest party on Etheria - with Catra as her girlfriend. Just thinking about it made her want to laugh. Never in her wildest fantasies as a child had she thought she would get to do something this amazing, and yet the evidence sat before her.

“ Hey Adora ,” Catra purred as she stepped out of the bathroom. She’d kept her attire hidden, saying - with a wide smirk - that she wanted it to be a ‘surprise’. Adora hadn’t really understood why - clothes were just clothes - until the moment she saw Catra saunter into the room, smirking. “What do you think?”

A great question. If only Adora was capable of thought right now.

The first thing that caught her eye was the fact that Catra’s mask was gleaming . Even in the low lit room, it shone no matter which way the light hit it. Then Adora noticed the red-pink button up and maroon jacket that clung just right to Catra’s lean frame. She had tamed her wild mane for once; it was glossy and more combed out, running in neat, overlapping lines that arched down to her back.

Adora had always known Catra was beautiful - even before she fell in love. But this? This had her struggling to remember how to breathe, let alone speak . Even if she could, words did not exist to describe what she was feeling.

Catra poked her between the eyebrows, her grin somehow growing even wider. “You in there, ‘princess’?”

She laughed at her little joke.

“ Wow… ” Adora breathed, so softly that even with her sensitive hearing, Catra might not have heard her.

Catra flushed slightly.

“You know,” she said, “I didn’t really understand why stuff like this is such a big deal - it just seemed like a lot of work to impress a bunch of people who are our enemies. But now? I feel amazing . These clothes are so soft and light, and they make me look great.” 

“Of course,” she chuckled, “I always look great, but seeing the look on your face right now…”

Adora finally snapped out of her love-induced haze, wrapping Catra in a smothering hug as she dropped her chin onto a jacket-covered shoulder. And then she laughed. Over and over and over: a full throated, eye-watering laugh of pure giddiness.

“Uh, Adora? Are you okay? I don’t think I was being that funny.”

“So- sorry,” Adora giggled, wiping her eyes with one hand, “it’s just...I can’t believe this! We’re going to the biggest party in the world as girlfriends ! We get to wear really nice clothes and eat real food and dance !”

Catra purred against her chest as she continued.

“And we don’t have to worry about Shadow Weaver or Hordak or a mission or the war! We get to exist for once! We get to-”

Adora let out a little squeak as Catra hooked one claw through the collar of her shirt, pulling her down so they were at eye level.

“Trust me, I’ve been looking forward to this as much as you have, but you’re forgetting one little thing.” Catra lightly tapped her chest with each of her next three words. 

“You’re. Not. Dressed.”

“Oh, right,” she grinned sheepishly, looking down at her rumpled uniform. “Sorry I couldn’t make it a big reveal like you did. It’s just kind of…” Adora gestured at the sprawl of clothes on their bed. “...there.”

Catra smiled as she gave Adora a light push. 

“I can see that, and I’d much rather be looking at those clothes on you . So get to it.”
Adora responded with a mocking, over-the-top salute, then stripped off her uniform and began to change into her formal clothes. The midnight black turtleneck sent shivers down her spine as it dragged across her skin - the scars on her chest noticeably numb. When she finally got it tucked in, it felt more like a second skin than a nice shirt. Compared to a lifetime of well-worn, tight boots, her dress shoes made it feel like she was walking on air.

She reached for her jacket, but only found empty sheets. Catra held it on a hanger, with a soft look on her face.

“Stand up. I’ll help you put it on.”

Adora obeyed, even though she was more than capable of something as simple as putting on a jacket. Catra was probably just being careful with her injuries, and how could she deny her? But as a ten second task stretched into over a minute - with Catra delicately tracing her hands along Adora’s arms as she slid the sleeves up, then taking great care as she buckled the dual belts around her waist - Adora realized just how nice this moment was.

It ended far too quickly, with Catra pulling back after adjusting her jacket. This time, Catra was the one with a stunned look on her face, mouth hanging open and eyes darting all over Adora.

No wonder Catra liked her outfit so much. Adora’s new clothes felt different . The lack of comforting weight to them would take some getting used to, but that was her only complaint. Her new jacket clung perfectly to her arms, the front and belts the perfect amount of tight, but not too tight. She’d never had an issue with her mass-produced uniform, but those had been made to a size - always seeming a bit off. This had been tailor made specifically for her.

Adora grinned as she echoed Catra’s words. “What do you think?”

“Adora,” Catra breathed, “you are so fucking hot right now.”

And then she yanked Adora into a searing kiss.

Adora’s hands hung awkwardly by her side, wanting to grab Catra and pull her in tighter, but worried she would wrinkle Catra’s jacket. So she leaned down into the kiss instead. Meanwhile, Catra had no issue with digging her hands through Adora’s well-brushed hair.

When Catra finally let go, the end of their kiss made an audible ‘pop’, sending blood running to Adora’s cheeks.

Catra purred as she fixed the rumples in Adora’s jacket. “Sorry for getting you a little flustered, but I really needed to kiss you.”

Adora laughed. “You can kiss me as much as you want!”

“Except when we’re around Hordak,” she clarified, “that’d be kinda weird. But any other time, you don’t even need to ask. I love being surprised by you kissing me!”

Catra gave a wicked grin as she pulled back from Adora. “In that case, you’re going to be surprised a lot tonight.”

Adora absentmindedly flipped a few loose strands of hair back over her shoulder, pulling her sleeve up and rubbing her vambrace. Princess Prom had a strict ‘no weapons’ policy, and seeing as it could turn into a giant sword, she probably shouldn’t take it with her. The Adora of six months ago certainly wouldn’t bring it.

But the Adora of six months ago was a far cry from the Adora of now.

Princess Prom was supposed to be neutral ground, with harsh punishments for any violations of said neutrality. So Adora wouldn’t need her sword, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have to use it, because the person trying to fight her would be quickly stopped. Not that she expected to get into a fight with anyone. While a few princesses that fought for the Rebellion would be there, the majority of guests would be affluent nobles from the various kingdoms. The worst they could do would be a few thinly-veiled insults.

And there wouldn’t be any reason for a fight to break out, because no one there would know that she was She-Ra - hell, the world still didn’t know She-Ra existed - and that she and Catra were with the Horde. Entrapta had said that once they got through the outside gates, they would be free to roam. So even if someone were to take offense to Scorpia being there, Adora and Catra wouldn’t be linked to her.

If she did get discovered, bringing her sword could easily cause an international incident, and She-Ra was still supposed to be a secret: the Horde’s ace in its back pocket. 

But Adora really didn’t want to be separated from her sword again. She needed the soothing weight on her forearm, the sense of security it provided, the ever-present flow of magic through her body that grew stronger and stronger by day. 

And besides - who was going to stop her? The Rebellion? Nothing compared to her power. Hordak?

That one gave her pause. Hordak would be furious at her if he discovered this - doubly so if it caused an incident - but Adora’s heart didn’t waver as much as it should have. Hordak...wasn’t always right. When Catra was arrested, she had been hurt. Needlessly. Hordak had allowed Shadow Weaver, a complete monster, to effectively command the entire Horde army for decades. But he was still her leader, and she still trusted him. Mostly.

Adora wasn’t brave enough to make the call on her own, so she turned to the most prolific rule breaker she knew.

“Should I leave my sword here, with the ‘no weapons’ rule?” She asked Catra. “It would only be my vambrace like it is right now, but I don’t know…”

Catra grinned. “Is Adora asking me if she should break some rules ?”

“I know, I know, it’s a stupid risk to take, but I really need-”

“Are you kidding me?!” Catra's eyes gleamed as she rolled Adora’s sleeve back down. “This is a dream come true! You are definitely taking your sword with you.” 

Then her tone abruptly softened.

“Since it heals you...with your injuries, I don’t want you not to have it. You shouldn’t let yourself be in pain just because a bunch of stuck-up rich people made a stupid rule. Besides, princesses are going to be there, and it’s not like they can leave their magic at the door.”

Adora took a deep breath as she looked in the mirror. At the four thin scars that cut through her right eye. The nice clothes that hid the price she had paid for killing Shadow Weaver. At how strikingly hard her eyes were; ice replacing what had once been soft, sky blue. The very slight bulge in her jacket sleeve. And for the slightest of moments, she saw a golden crown shimmering on her head.

Catra offered Adora her hand, with the happiest smile of her life on her face.

“You coming?”

Adora’s heart fluttered as she beamed and took it.

------------------------------------------------------------

A little over an hour in, Princess Prom lived up to the expectations; so much so that Glimmer felt no guilt in putting off her appeal to Princess Frosta. The neverending line of guests that had to pay their respects to the ball’s host certainly helped her conscience. And besides, the festivities would go on for another eight hours or so - plenty of time for her to corner Frosta.

For now, Glimmer let herself be carefree as she experienced one of the last major rites of passage for a princess. She mingled within the crowd, overhearing all sorts of conversations, none pertaining to the war. She downed the best glass of wine she’d ever had. She scouted the ballroom, the scene where - in a few hours - Glimmer would get to live out her dreams with Bow.

All of this she did without ever letting go of her fiancé ’s hand. 

They had fantasized about their first Princess Prom for years. The matching outfits they would wear. The prospect of a party free from the overbearing presence of her mother. The dances they had practiced in Glimmer’s bedroom, until they could do it with their eyes closed. The soft, romantic music that created a warm atmosphere. The intimate moments they would sneak into side rooms or empty hallways for.

Glimmer squeezed Bow’s hand, heart racing as it always did at the ring that pushed against her palm. She didn’t know it was possible to be this happy. Bow’s gift imbued her with an infectious confidence; she would convince Frosta to lend aid to Bright Moon. She would defeat the Horde. 

Her boyfr - no, fiancé - had a jubilant grin on his face, the same one he’d been wearing since they had put on each other’s rings. Now that Glimmer thought about it, they hadn’t let go of each other’s hand either. 

“What do you want to do now?” Bow playfully asked. “The line to talk to Frosta is still pretty long, and the dance isn’t for another two hours.”

“Hmm…” They could raid the bar for more of that wine. The refreshments weren’t half bad either, but Glimmer wanted to keep a light stomach until after the dance. They could seek out Mermista and Sea Hawk, but they weren’t that close to the couple. Spinnerella and Netossa had seemed a bit more comfortable around her when they arrived, but she’d rather not risk it.

Then Glimmer noticed the massive, arching stairway leading to the second and third levels of the palace. A smaller flow of guests were coming and going, but the upper floors would be much less crowded than the main floor. It would mean some fresh air, a better view of the Kingdom of Snows’ beautiful landscape, and most importantly, privacy .

Glimmer tugged on Bow’s hand, leading him to the steps. 

“We should explore the rest of the palace!” Her eyes fell to his lips for a fraction of a second, and Bow let out an adorable little snort.

“Okay…” he gave her a knowing look, “...let’s go ‘explore’.”

They ran up the stairs, giggling and weaving around the small groups that stood along the railings. No guard stopped them when they reached the third floor, so Glimmer took Bow’s hand and ran down a random hallway. Once they disappeared from the public view, she slowed to a leisurely pace.

She looped her arm through Bow’s as they found a balcony overlooking the ballroom. Far below them, the mass of guests milled about; the only distinguishable figure being Frosta, and only because her throne sat on an elevated dais.

Glimmer let out a happy sigh as she leaned against the railing. This high up - away from the ambient noise and almost overwhelming crowd - she could truly soak in the moment. She closed her eyes and smiled.

Bow let out a quiet laugh. “When you were dragging me up here, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Oh?” Glimmer teased, “What were you expecting?”

Bow joined her on the railing. 

“From the way you were looking at me, something more…aggressive.”

She laughed at being caught red-handed.

“With how stunning you look,” she drifted a hand along his collar, eliciting a slight blush, “can you blame me? For wanting a few minutes alone with my fiancé ?” Glimmer purred the word, loving the way it rolled off her tongue.

“But I didn’t just come up here for that,” she continued. “My mom always told me that the first Princess Prom would be special, and it’s been so much better than I ever hoped. I just want to remember this day and appreciate it.”

Bow laid one of his hands over her own on the railing. She loved the way the light refracted off the small amethyst stone set in the center of his engagement ring.

“I agree,” he said, eyes dazzling, “today has been the best day of my life, and we haven’t even danced yet.”

Glimmer whispered, “Is this what it’s going to be like when the war is over? No more battles, no more death. Just…” 

She looked into Bow’s eyes.

“...this?”

He stood up and took both of her hands.

“I don’t know, but I really hope so.” 

Bow leaned in, and Glimmer felt herself drawn to him. 

“All I do know is that I get to be with you for the rest of my life.” 

His voice dropped to a murmur. 

“And that’s more than enough for me.”

For the second time today, he rested his forehead against hers as they swayed hand-in-hand. The ambient noise of the crowd far below them faded away as they enjoyed a private moment. Glimmer forgot about Frosta, the war, the looming threat of She-Ra. She forgot about her deteriorating relationships with Spinnerella, Netossa, and her mother. She forgot about her now second-most prized possession - the journal that lay tucked away deep in her drawers, full of whispered secrets of power and victory.

For this moment, she was just Glimmer. Not Glimmer of Bright Moon, Princess Glimmer, Commander Glimmer, or any of her other titles. Just...Glimmer. 

She buried her face in Bow’s chest.

“I love you,” she mumbled into his shirt.

Bow kissed the top of her head. 

“I love you too.”

He slowly walked her over to the nearby loveseat, pulling her down to sit in his lap; Glimmer burying herself in his presence. Every so often, they softly kissed each other, but otherwise, Bow ran his hands in soothing circles along her back, and Glimmer gently stroked through his short hair.

A sleepy haze settled over them, and Glimmer must have dozed off, because Bow was gently shaking her awake.

“How long was I out?” She blearlily asked.

“About thirty minutes. I wouldn’t have woken you up, but my legs are numb.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glimmer said as she shook off the last remnants of sleep, “I didn’t mean to. You’re just too comfortable!” She punctuated the compliment with a cheeky poke to his chest.

Bow groaned as he stretched his back with an audible crack. 

“Yeah, but we can’t be stiff when it’s time to dance. And I want to be near the front of the crowd when it begins, so we get to be at the center.”

Glimmer peeked over the railing, and found the line to speak with Frosta was much shorter.

“Let’s go talk to Frosta!” She pulled Bow up from the loveseat. “This is the perfect time, and once that’s out of the way, we can just relax and enjoy the rest of the party!”

Bow took her hand as they made their way through the halls leading back to the stairway.

“We should probably find Mermista beforehand, since,” he drew a line along his stomach, “y'know?”

“She won’t be too hard to find,” Glimmer joked as they walked down the steps, “we just have to follow the random outbursts of singing.”

Bow laughed.

Then something caught her eye, and the afterglow of their private moment vanished.

“Bow?” Glimmer said, noticing the dense crowd around the bar. “Can you go get us some more wine? The stuff we had earlier?”

“Of course!” He didn’t notice the change in her demeanor. “Be right back!”

Bow gave her a quick peck on the cheek before darting off.

As Glimmer refocused on the object of her displeasure, a scowl began to grow on her face as she stalked toward her.

Princess Perfuma.

The ruler of Plumeria had her back turned to her, engrossed in an excited conversation with the largest woman Glimmer had ever seen. Perfuma’s friend stood head and shoulders above the rest of the room, matching the princess’s excitement as she waved her - were those pincers ? - back and forth.

As Glimmer closed in, Perfuma’s friend gave the princess a crushing hug, and she overheard a “See you in an hour!” as they left. 

Good. She needed to speak to Perfuma alone .

“Princess Perfuma,” she said, toeing the line between polite and cold.

Perfuma turned to her with an irritating smile.

“Princess Glimmer,” she returned, bowing her head in greeting. “How are you enjoying your first Princess Prom?”

Glimmer crossed her arms.

“It’s alright.” 

Actually, until she had seen Perfuma, it had been going perfectly. 

Perfuma frowned. “You seem...agitated. Your energy is all twisted and murky.” Oh, right; she was one of those people. “And your aura is strange…” she trailed off.

“Yeah, I’m a bit agitated,” Glimmer huffed. “Fighting in a war is stressful, if you didn’t know.”

“I am well aware.”

Was she, though? Plumeria remained neutral, spared from the violence only because Bright Moon and Salineas sacrificed themselves in its stead. Even the briefest of glances at Perfuma told Glimmer she had never seen combat. The softness of her hands, the lack of hard lines on her face, the languid way she looked around the room. 

A runestone princess that didn’t fight. It made Glimmer sick.

“So, how is Plumeria doing?” 

Perfuma’s face lit up at the question. “We’re doing wonderfully! The harvests are our most plentiful in years, the weather has been perfect, and nature is singing now that the Horde has laid off on their expeditions through our land!”

Glimmer clenched her fists.

“Oh, they have?” She coldly said. “That’s surprising.”

“It is, but we are taking full advantage of this blessing.”

“No Horde troops at all?”

“Nope!” Perfuma beamed. “In fact, the land they used to go through has finally begun to heal after weeks of careful restoration.”

Her nails nearly drew blood at the bold-faced lie. The Horde just up and left weeks ago? And yet they had managed to conjure an entire army to attack Bright Moon territory without Plumeria noticing?

“That’s funny.” Glimmer took a step towards Perfuma. “Because the Horde attacked Fort Riverstride three weeks ago. Without warning.”

She waited for the look of surprise, for Perfuma to be caught in her web of lies, but all the princess showed was...confusion?

“You must be mistaken,” Perfuma shakily began. “The Horde hasn’t sent troops through our land in almost two months. We would’ve warned you if they did, like we always have!”

Glimmer’s vision went red, and there was a sudden taste of blood in her mouth.

“ Mistaken ?” she snarled. “I was there . I fought an entire army! It would have been impossible for you not to notice them!”

A few people around them turned their heads at her outburst.

Perfuma took another step back, but Glimmer closed the distance between them.

“I promise you; the Horde has not sent troops in months. Plumeria would never betray-”

Glimmer cut her off.

“Oh, so I guess the Horde just magically transported an army through your borders without you noticing,” she scoffed, “ right …”

“Princess Glimmer, please, calm down.”

Oh, that was not the right thing to say.

“Calm down?” she incredulously repeated. “ Calm down?!”

But Perfuma stood tall against her, taking a step closer, even as the crowd flinched back.

“I understand that you are angry with me,” her tone was frustratingly even, “and perhaps you deserve to be, but you are scaring people.”

Thankfully, it seemed that the number of scared guests had remained minimal so far, only encompassing those directly around the two princesses. The majority of the crowd still milled about, unaware of the conflict brewing.

Glimmer started as a vine wrapped around her hand, which she only now realized had been glowing a faint purple. Immediately, her anger wavered, as an artificial coldness spread through her arm.

“You are under immense pressure,” Perfuma soothingly continued, “pressure that no one - certainly no one as young as you are - should have to go through. But your stress and anger are blinding you to the truth.”

A wave of clarity washed over Glimmer, both from Perfuma’s words and whatever strange plant magic was affecting her.

Suppose Perfuma was telling the truth: that Plumeria hadn’t betrayed the Rebellion. How else could the Horde have snuck up on Fort Riverstride? 

To the north, the Whispering Woods, which the Horde had never successfully navigated through. To the east, Bright Moon, which was impossible. To the west, Plumeria, the clear and obvious culprit. And to the south, the Strait of Salineas…

If Glimmer wasn’t on neutral ground, she would have blasted a hole through the wall. Several holes. 

How could they have been so stupid ?

She yanked her hand free of the vine, the artificial numbness quickly dissipating, but by now, she had regained control of her magic - and emotions.

“I apologize, Princess Perfuma,” Glimmer said in a clipped tone. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

And with that, she turned and stormed off, the crowd that had witnessed her spat with Perfuma hurrying to get out of her way.

Glimmer pushed her way through, needing to find Bow so that she could vent her frustrations. 

Stupid stupid stupid.

What else had she missed? What other plans had the Horde set in motion that she wouldn’t see until it was too late? Were they already encircling Bright Moon, further cutting them off from the rest of the world? Did Frosta’s aid even matter at this point? And where was She-Ra in all of this?

Before her thoughts could spiral further, someone called out “Glimmer!” behind her. She turned and found Bow.

“Sorry for taking so long.” He handed her a glass of wine. “I got sidetracked by Princess Entrapta. She. Is. So. Amazing! ” Bow’s eyes glittered in awe. “She’s so smart and cool and she can control her hair with her mind and-”

He noticed the stricken look on her face. “Hey, you okay?”

“I found out how the Horde attacked Fort Riverstride.” 

He grimaced. “I assume it’s not good.”

“No,” Glimmer scowled, “I’ve just been really stupid . What’s to the south of Fort Riverstride?”

Bow frowned. “Uhh...the Strait of Salineas?” His eyes widened at the realization. “Oh...shit. At least they can’t attack us from the sea again, since we’ll see them coming.”

“Maybe,” Glimmer raked her fingers through her hair, “but how could we not see that? What else are we not prepared for? She-Ra hasn’t been seen since Salineas-”

Bow firmly grabbed her shoulder.

“You can’t let yourself get worked up like this,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “ No one saw this coming. And how could we? Salineas has controlled the strait for forever...until a couple months ago. We’ll be more prepared now.”

He pulled back with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And I don’t think She-Ra will be hard to spot. Isn’t she supposed to be like eight feet tall, with a giant sword?” He joked. “Kinda hard to hide that.”

Glimmer smiled and stood on her toes, just barely able to kiss Bow.

“Thanks. You always know what to say.”

“Eww, do you have to be so mushy right in front of me?”

Glimmer whirled around - ready to unleash a verbal firestorm on the person who dared speak to her like that - and found Mermista with a smirk on her face.

“Don’t mind her,” Sea Hawk winked as he pulled Mermista into a one-armed hug. “Though she may try to hide it, Mermista is a true romantic at heart.”

Mermista half-heartedly tried to push him away. “Uhh, no I’m not.”

He gasped. “Your vile words wound me, Princess. I demand you rescind them at once!”

“Or what?”

Sea Hawk whispered in Mermista’s ear, and the princess flushed a bright red. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

They struck up an intense staring contest, but as Sea Hawk stood firm with a sly grin, Mermista eventually relented with a drawn out groan. “I hate you.”

“That means she loves me,” he stage-whispered to Glimmer and Bow. “She’s said she hates me five times tonight.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes at the banter.

“So, are you two able to go with me to talk to Princess Frosta?” She asked. “The sooner we get it out of the way, the better.”

Mermista shrugged. “Sure, why not? This party has been boring so far. Let’s go talk to the kid about the worst day of my life.” Despite her casual tone, a slight flash of fear crossed her face. 

They walked towards Frosta’s throne, where the line had diminished to only ten people. Glimmer took several calming breaths as the princess’s voice gradually began to cut through the dim of the crowd. She could do this. Would do this. She had practiced her plea over and over, night after night. 

But when she took her next step, a chill shot down her spine. 

She stumbled to a halt, Mermista doing the same in her peripheral vision. Bow and Sea Hawk continued on unaware, chattering about something Glimmer could no longer hear. She tried to take a step, to move, to do anything , but she remained frozen. She could feel something tugging at the back of her mind, a gravitational pull she was helpless to resist.

Slowly and in perfect sync with Mermista, Glimmer glanced behind her. 

At first, everything seemed ordinary. The flow of the crowd remained sluggish and relaxed, the normal (non-princess) guests continued their casual conversations, and the guards spaced throughout the room were entirely at ease, with bored looks on their faces.

So why did everything feel so wrong ?

Glimmer could feel something making its way towards her, still hidden by the sheer mass of people. A cold sweat broke out on her neck, which only made her more frustrated because she had no idea why this was happening. She had never been afraid of anything in her life! 

With great force of will, Glimmer broke free of her trance for a moment and turned to Mermista.

For as terrible as she felt, Mermista looked much, much worse. Her nose flared with each breath, eyes clouded over as she vacantly stared forward. She hunched over slightly, shoulders incredibly tense as her fists trembled. All of the blood had drained from her face, to the point that Mermista looked as awful as when she had nearly died.

The thing tugged in her mind again, drawing Glimmer’s attention back towards the center of the crowd before them. And she saw two red figures making their way towards her.

They stood out in the crowd, and not just because of the inescapable pull. The theme of Princess Prom had been “Winter Wonderland” and accordingly, the guests had all dressed in various shades of blue and other cool colors. These two had either missed the memo or purposely chosen to stand out, and the sinking feeling in Glimmer’s stomach said that they hadn’t chosen Horde colors by accident.

The crowd parted enough for her to catch a long glimpse at the smaller of the two, the one wearing a maroon suit. Some kind of hybrid - judging off of the giant cat ears - but one Glimmer had never seen before. She moved with an easy grace, weaving past people as she talked with the other person in red. She leaned in close to her companion, but the view was blocked by a group standing in the way. When the woman pulled back, she had the biggest shit-eating grin Glimmer had ever seen.

Glimmer didn’t know this woman, but she did know that she did not like her. Yet, she didn’t seem to be linked to the strange magic affecting her and Mermista. Glimmer cursed her short height - even with heels - as she tried to peer over the top of the crowd to catch a glimpse of the companion.

Someone laid a hand on her shoulder, and Glimmer jolted free of her trance.

“You okay?” Bow asked, peering at her with a worried look. How long had she been standing here?

“I don’t know…” 

Glimmer fumbled to explain what was going on. 

“...I…” 

She still couldn’t see the other figure in red, except for the edges of their jacket. She needed to. 

“...I don’t know,” she ended with a helpless shrug. 

Sea Hawk walked in front of her, taking a slow, long path to stand in front of Mermista. He leaned in and took one of her hands, whispering in her ear as she sagged against him. He rubbed circles on her back as she whispered back. And she must have said something damning, because Sea Hawk whipped his head around, a strikingly hard look on his face.

Before Glimmer could ask Mermista if she knew what was going on, the crowd parted.

Fate itself must have planned this moment.

Finally, Glimmer saw the face of the shadow looming over the room.

The first thing to register was the sheer physical stature of the woman. She easily stood a good three to four inches above Bow, who was tall in his own right. Even as she turned to laugh with her friend, Glimmer could see the prominent cut of her neck and jaw. And her arms...her jacket clung so tight to her arms that Glimmer swore she could see the definition of her muscles. While her companion was lithe and graceful, the woman was raw power.

Glimmer only saw her eyes for a moment as the woman casually scanned the room, but that one glimpse took her breath away. They were harder than the ice that made the foundations of this palace, more piercing than the bitter winds that raged outside. 

Beyond her mere physical form, the woman’s presence sent goosebumps along Glimmer’s arms. As powerful and intimidating a figure as she cut, there was something else that gave Glimmer pause. Something that screamed at her to run as far away as possible, to get out of the woman’s line of sight. 

And based on Mermista’s reaction, she was pretty sure she knew what that something was. 

Her fears were confirmed as - for the briefest of moments, and only because she was looking for it - Glimmer saw a golden aura around the woman. Atop her head, from which flowing blonde hair fell, a crown shimmered into existence before disappearing. A crown Glimmer had seen in a hundred different interpretations in a hundred different books back in Mystacor.

A pit formed in her stomach.

They weren’t ready yet! Mermista still wasn’t at full health, and had left her trident behind. Netossa and Spinnerella were separated from the group - who knows where out in the crowd. And Glimmer couldn’t fight in a dress and heels, even if she weren’t a bit drained from teleporting their group to the Kingdom of Snows.

But it didn’t matter.

She-Ra had arrived.

Chapter Text

Princess Prom was amazing!

The food had ruined her. Grey ration bars - once the pinnacle of flavor - now seemed drab in comparison to the neverending sprawl laid out here. From the explosions of flavor, to the variety of textures, to the freshness of it all, Adora had never known eating could be so enjoyable! And best of all, there were no limits to how much she could take for herself. Catra had to drag her away after she demolished a third plate.

She took every available opportunity to step out onto a balcony and marvel at the pristine mountains surrounding the palace, to enjoy the chilly breeze that made her appreciate how warm and soft her jacket was. Well, the view was nice, and she loved how clean the air was here, but it didn’t hurt that each time Catra would bury herself against Adora’s chest, complaining about how cold it was and how insane she was. Catra would demand a kiss for having to put up with her, and she would happily comply. 

And so far, no one knew she and Catra were with the Horde. Not that they weren’t getting plenty of attention.

Really, it was Catra’s fault. She had more than fulfilled her promise of surprising Adora throughout the night, and the party had only just begun! Adora was busy marveling at the giant staircase made entirely of ice? Catra yanked her down for a kiss. She closed her eyes to soak in the relaxed ambience of the crowd? Catra kissed her again. She laughed at a joke Catra made? Surprise kiss. They were literally just walking around, doing nothing? Kiss.

Not that Adora minded! She had meant it when she said she wanted Catra to surprise her as much as possible. And it wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong; other couples showed displays of affection, although none as common or as rough as Catra’s were. At first, she didn’t understand why Catra kept doing so, and in the most public places, but slowly, Adora began to piece it together.

They were getting a ton of looks from the other guests. Initially, Adora had shrugged it off. It probably had to do with her and Catra wearing crimson and maroon suits (respectively), when everyone else seemed to have gotten some memo about only wearing shades of blue or other cool colors. But people didn’t stop looking at them. Then, she had suspected it had to do with their physical characteristics: Catra being a hybrid, and Adora with her scars. And in a way, she hadn’t been wrong.

The next time Catra surprised her - where once again they were just walking through the ballroom - she ended it with a salacious lip bite that had Adora blushing and quite a few people staring at them.

“Okay,” she laughed as they moved on, “what’s going on with you?”

Catra smirked as she leaned in close and lowered her voice.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed everyone staring at us all night.” 

Adora rolled her eyes. “Because you keep making a scene.”

“Yeah, but even if I weren’t, they still wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off us. Or more precisely, you.”

“And why is that?” She asked as she took a sip of her drink.

“Because, dummy,” Catra playfully poked her in-between the eyes, “ you are the most gorgeous person here, and I am a comfortable second. I know if I were one of these losers, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of us.”

Adora was at war with herself, now that Catra had proven her suspicions. Part of her worried that this attention was a bad thing, that it would lead to scrutiny and in turn reveal their Horde loyalties, or worse: She-Ra. She didn’t want to cause any trouble, just to enjoy the night with Catra. The other part of her - the one used to being the best, the leader, the center of attention - basked in the spotlight. Yes, she was beautiful and powerful, and she had earned that recognition.

And another, much, much deeper part of Adora raged at the idea of all these people - these pathetic, pampered nobles - ogling Catra. Catra was hers . No one else's. None of them even deserved to look at her. None of them had grown up by her side, fought together, suffered together. None of them had fallen in love with Catra for who knows how many times, for that love to be ripped to shreds by pure evil, and yet that love to be so great it always returned stronger than ever. None of them were willing to sacrifice what Adora had and would for Catra to be safe.

Catra gave a dramatic sigh. “I almost feel sorry for these poor saps.”

“Why?” she scowled.

“Imagine if you saw the most beautiful woman in the world - a walking goddess ...”

Adora blushed at the description, but also found she liked it. A lot. In more ways than one.

“...and all you could do was stare from a distance. You couldn’t hear her voice, look into her eyes, know everything about her: the way she pulls you in tight at night, how she thought a hair poof was stylish-”

“Hey!”

“-her favorite foods, just how defined her muscles are…”