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Finn was seven, and they had a cold, and it was time for bed. Also, it was Thursday, which, according to the polycule organizational chart up on the fridge, meant that she was on parenting duty while Adora and Glimmer got a little peace and quiet to themselves. She sighed and skimmed the shelves. If the little moppet wanted a bedtime story, a bedtime story they would have. Even if they insisted they’d heard all of the actual stories about things their moms had done during the war, so it was time for some different ones. The little shit, Catra thought fondly.
Her eyes alit on a massive tome: Fairy Stories and Folk Tales of the First Ones. It had been a very thoughtful gift from George and Lance, who had translated and compiled the collection. There had to be a few winners in all those pages, right?
Wrong. A quick skim revealed nothing but boring-ass princes rescuing zero-agency princesses. Still, she got the vague sense of the language and the vibes, and she’d always been good at improvising. What Finn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, she decided, and carried the book back to Finn’s room.
Finn’s eyes widened as they saw Catra bring in the leather-bound book, and they clapped excitedly as she sat on the foot of the bed, cracking it open across her lap. “A new story, Mommy?”
Catra just grinned back so she wouldn’t have to tell (most of) a lie to her only child. “Once upon a time, there were three princesses: a powerful sorceress, a brave knight, and a clever general. The general loved the knight, but the general was neither brave nor wise, and so she never said anything to the knight. And, too, the knight loved the general,” (Or at least, Catra thought, she was pretty sure Adora had loved her, even if Adora hadn’t realized it at the time.) “but the knight was neither clever nor wise,” (Sorry, babe, Catra thought.) “and so she never noticed the general’s love.”
She took a breath and turned the page. “And so the knight went a-questing until one day she met the sorceress, and fell in love with her at first sight,” (Or at least, Catra thought, it certainly felt like that, watching from the outside.) “And this so enraged the general that she made war on the sorceress, and the two battled back and forth for a year and a day, laying waste to the land, so evenly matched were they.” (I could definitely have taken you, Sparkles.) “And many strange tellings came of their war, but the strangest of them was this: with each passing conflict, the general and the sorceress’s respect for one another grew and grew.”
“The war dragged on and on, neither side willing to admit defeat even as the knight begged for both of them to stop, until finally the huntsman rode into the middle of the battlefield where the general and the sorceress were about to clash once more, a white flag in his hand.”
Catra turned the page again. “‘I have ill tidings and good,’ he cried, and all three princesses turned to listen, for the huntsman was known for his wisdom, and his kindness. ‘A great and terrible horde masses on your border, even now, and would destroy both your lands as you squabble. But not all is lost,’ the huntsman continued, ‘For if you would but pull your heads out of your asses see with true eyes, you would understand the love the three of you have for one another.’
“‘I’m sorry,’ quipped the general. ‘I thought you said you had good tidings.’ And the knight and the sorceress did glare at the general with such a fury as had never been seen in even the fiercest of their battles.”
“Mommy,” Finn yawned, “the general’s silly!”
“Yeah, baby, she was,” Catra agreed, and tousled Finn’s hair. “‘Okay fine,’ the general admitted. ‘I guess I like both of you.’
“‘Yeah, same,’ the sorceress begrudgingly agreed.
“‘Ohh,’ the knight said, and her eyes did widen with surprise and delight. ‘I love you too!’ And so the three princesses kissed, and their armies cheered.”
“Did they defeat the great and terrible horde, Mommy?” Finn asked, nearly asleep.
“Of course, baby,” Catra told them, and kissed them on the forehead. “They always do.” She stood, and quietly turned out the light, and half-closed the door because Finn didn’t like it all the way closed (too scary) or all the way open (too much noise). “And the moral of the story is: always listen to your Uncle Bow,” she whispered.