Chapter Text
i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. take me back to the night we met
If there was one thing Catra truly despised, it was the petty squabbling of minor galactic ambassadors that always seemed to crop up in the midst of brewing wartime preparations. How anyone felt it important to discuss the inconsequential merchant disagreements between some small sector guild and the president of bum-fuck nowhere when Blithe Surn had declared himself Grand Emperor of the entire Dern Shein Collective was truly astonishing, but opportunists were opportunists regardless of how critical the level of intergalactic tensions reached. There was no greater opportunity to pounce upon than word that both Etheria and Eternia, and thus She-Ra, have determined to personally attending the emergency Celestial Compass Summit. Catra literally couldn’t be rid of the representatives hailing from Jar-Lyn fast enough.
“Thank you Ambassador Ruul, for your passionate appeal to this counsel. We have heard your concerns and will take them into consideration. The Etherian Embassy will be in contact within the next Standard Fortnight to follow up on your proposal and request any further needed appointments and documentation. Thank you for your time.” Catra cut in smoothly, deciding that if she had to subject herself to another single moment of the ambassador’s rambling, she’d start personally campaigning against Etherian’s non-violent stance towards planets that had committed the crime of utter incompetence.
“But if I may…”
“The D'ruuthian Guard shall escort you to your quarters to prepare for your departure. It would be prudent of us to ensure your timely arrival for your orbital jump.” It seemed that there was some luck to be had as they finally took the cue that the meeting was adjourned.
She watched as people quickly filtered out the doors, no doubt excited at the prospect of being free of this place and its blasted meetings until they reconvened after repast. Adora seemed to feel the same as she released a sigh of relief, her composure dropping once the lingering guard accepted Catra's signal to give them the room. Even so, she knew it best to wait with the way her wife's brow had drawn together, nose crinkled as she poured over the maps and documents she'd been eyeing from three meetings prior. She only broke the silence once Adora dropped to her seat with a slump and a huff, her fingers aggressively massaging the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to alleviate the headache she'd no doubt been nursing since before Catra had began sitting in.
“Thank every fuck I don't have to give that That’s over with. How they managed to squeeze themselves onto the schedule is beyond me. Maybe I should reiterate our vetting protocols for who the fuck is allowed audience with the High-Embassy.” Catra drawled, managing to draw out a small snort from her wife.
“I don’t know how you do this every day, we’re only a handful of months into preparations and I always feel like I'm one last jab about She-Ra’s lacking galactic presence away from throwing someone out a window. It’s not like we didn’t do something so significant as rid them of fucking Prime and aid in the Planetary Restoration Charter or the re-establishment efforts for the Intergalactic Federation. I swear," Adora jabbed at documents from a particularly frustrating morning meeting if Umay's pointedly foul mood during lunch was any indication, "you miss one Summit and they act like I’ve taken another millennia long hiatus from the galactic stage. I’m literally attending two in the next 15 months! Fuck, we’re fighting the next fucking war for them!” Adora growled, her circlet becoming skewed as she buried her head in her hands.
“I agree that no one shows enough appreciation that half of these planets would still be back-water nobodies dealing in black market deals and losing half their product to clone strikes and egotistical mind control if it weren’t for you. Luckily, that’s the last embassy meeting for you on the docket today. Plus in a few weeks you’ll be able to turn your full attention towards the EAF to strategize and plan for the summit, not to mention the upcoming reinstatement of Commander and I know deep down you’re looking forward to that.” Catra taunted as she planted her palms opposite to Adora on the table.
“I hate you,” she said, shooting a scowl through her fingers.
“You mean to tell me that you don’t miss hearing Etherian Commander Adora tacked onto the already absurdly long announcement of your appellation? Nor that you aren’t already absolutely dripping at the prospect of spending hours pouring over star charts and fleet orchestrations while Kaslon’s Offensive Celestial Strategy: Volume IV plays on loop in the background?”
“Nevermind, now I actually hate you!” Catra was only half prepared for Adora to launch herself over the table, barely managing to evade her signature grapple as she dashed across the room.
“I can hear it now, Oh Kaslon, please, tell me more about Marq’ay’s Blitz! Oh, don’t forget to take your time with Chapter 17, you know how I feel about the Imperian Firefigh–” her sultry taunting was short-lived as the blonde managed to crash into her, hooking an arm around her waist as they were sent careening to the ground.
“That’s not how I say that!” Adora cried, expertly flipping the magicat over as she attempted to systematically restrain flailing limbs.
“Obviously I need to go dig up a recording of one of your planning sessions. I’m just glad Kaslon has been dead for centuries, otherwise I’m sure I’d be searching for Divorce Representation," she twisted fluidly out of the hold. "Then again, maybe all you need is that cursed audioscription for me to end up on the shit end of the Disillusionment of a Union,” she said with a sharp grin as she managed to lock Adora’s shoulder.
“For the last time!
I am NOT,"
Twist
"Going To,"
Flip
"Fuck"
Full-body Pin
"A"
Multi-joint Lock
"BOOK!” Adora huffed as she expertly confirmed her hold.
“Pad, love," Catra sighed, ceding defeat as she went boneless in Adora's grip, "you would definitely fuck a Comm Pad. I know you draw the line at paper,” she said with a smirk, twisting to take in her partner's beet red face. “It’s okay, I accept all of you, nerdy quirks and infatuations with deceased military geniuses included. Now, are you feeling better?” she planted a kiss on Adora’s nose for good measure.
“Yes, though I don’t know how I put up with you after all these years,” she replied, releasing the magicat as she rolled to sit on her heels. “It’s just…" and suddenly Battle-worn Adora settled back into the set of her shoulders and furrow of her brow, "there’s so much to do. Or think about." Catra sometimes couldn't tell if it was shame or longing that writhed under her wife's skin. And maybe with Adora there wasn't much of a difference. "I put off too many appeals, the tension between the Plains, Wastes, and Saltway’s Clans are getting to a boiling point, Dern Shein’s central system has gone completely dark, and I’m not sure how to meet the demands of the Federation especially with Eternia being as helpful as always with coordinating that."
"Runes forbid those decrepids make a situation easier," Catra grumbled. There were many reasons why Catra still regretted opening that Wastes-forsaken portal to this day, and being forced to deal with Eternian Politikers was shockingly high on that list.
"Exactly." Adora replied with a look. "Between them, the emissaries of the East-Runic Triad, and the Hordelands' Consulate..."
"I swear if another steaming pile of shit has left Pince's fucking mou-"
"Catra"
"Don't Catra me, not after his utter audacity..." she could practically taste the weariness in Adora's sigh in response, though it did nothing to deter her commitment to her incoming rant.
"We've talked about thi-"
"--even Belles can tell he's way over the fu-"
"Catra, please," she found herself pulled out by tired blue eyes.
"Fine, fine," she conceded, "but I expect a full report at the bitch-sesh with the squad," which earned a sigh more on the side of fond exasperation than the earlier exhaustion.
"As I was saying, between all that, Pince unfortunately still included," she appreciated being allowed some vindication, "I'm up to my eyes in assholes I wouldn't want to see before my Vigil and I fucking can't bring myself to keep trying to appease agendas that I'm supposed to give an imp's ass about. Like do they realize we're on the brink of Intergalactic war? Do they not fucking comprehend the truly depraved--" and for a moment Catra thought Adora had managed to allow her a glimpse of one of her cracks, but it was only closed eyes, pinched bridge, and one, two breaths for the blonde to achieve emotional mastery of herself once again.
"Not to mention that Cult of Surn sympathizer bullshit, which at this point has definitely piqued She-Ra’s interest which means at best it’s going to be a bitch of a nuissance and at worst, a Candellan level meltdown of fucks I don’t have to give.”
“Definitely?” Catra frowned, allowing the moment to slip away as Adora turned her gaze upward.
“Yeah… not critical for intervention yet, but it’s left me wary that the endless nagging She-Ra something that is almost certainly going to happen will end up involving them. Then again, we’re on the brink of wartime, almost everything is on my radar these days. I don’t see the point of magical premonitions if I can’t comprehend any of them.” The feline simply gave a commiserating shrug in response.
"I fee-, I jus-," and Catra caught a near growl of frustration before Adora simply gave up trying to verbally express herself. "I'm just tired." she shifted, throwing out a leg to lean back on her palms, eyes never leaving the ceiling.
"I know," Catra took the more open position as an opportunity to lean in. She gave a shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting her hand drift upwards to tap Adora's chin in hopes of bringing her gaze down. "I know," she repeated when blue eyes met hers.
Finally, her wife leaned in, body slumping so her head could come to nuzzle the crook of Catra's neck. It took a beat longer than she would have liked for the blonde's arms to rise to fully return her embrace, but today seemed to be more of a "take what you can get" day all around. She hardly dared to breath, lest she risk shattering the hard earned moment of solace. Adora had always been relatively closed off, accepting comfort in fits and bursts and slow to admit needing it at all, but the recent months had seen a resurgence of disposition that Catra had foolishly hoped they had put behind them. And she didn't like what the future of this War against Dern Shein would bring if she was lucky to connect with her wife on the best of days, and on the worst, wondered darkly if Adora had long-past slipped through her fingers.
It was too soon that Adora pulled away and oh how Catra hated the way her ears had recently again started to flush with shame as blue eyes darted away.
"We should head to Repast." How helpless Catra felt when that ended up being all the feline had to say.
"Oh Fuck," Adora's eyes widened in realization, "Belles," and maybe she might end up getting Adora to cry after all, though she had not meant to in this particular moment.
"Yeah..." Catra offered weakly, though something in her chest recoiled at the thought of having this conversation once again.
"Please say you told her I hadn't meant to miss Midday Meal," Adora was already on her feet, hastily straightening and gathering her things.
"I gave her the whole spill and promised you'd at least stop by around now, but you know she won't hear it anymore,"
"I know, I know, I swear I was going to be there, but Fuck, the shitshow with Saltway, you know we can't afford a incident like that to spiral out," now she could hear Adora's frustration rising to match her own.
"I know that. But it's been months of the She-Ra Extinguishing Battery and she's not necessarily wrong in accusing you of being around less than you could be," part of her regretted the words the moment she glimpsed Adora's grimace but what was said was said.
"I deserve that," she paused. "Today wasn't too bad was it?" Though she continued packing her bag, the franticness of her movements had slowed with defeat.
"No, it wasn't too bad," Catra offered with a sigh, opting to stand down and start in on packing her own things instead of another fight. "Brick ended up taking pity 13 minutes in, tapped into Lisa's comms who let slip the situation," she watched from the corner of her eye as some of the mounting tension ebb from Adora's shoulders. "She excused herself shortly after. Last I heard, she had moved her sulking to the Biblioethica."
"And Finn?" she finished, pack shutting with a click.
"Disappointed, but mostly because they've been stuck on one of their little sorcery projects and is convinced your answer will be better than mine--"
"As it always is," the blonde sang, sidling up behind Catra, strong arms coming down to wrap around her waist.
"--Despite it most certainly being the same, though I'm sure it will all be a wash when you get home at Evening Retire to explain it to them. And just to be clear that is a when and not an if, Adora," she threatened lightly as she felt soft nip on her jaw.
"I'll do you one better and get in by the second Dinn Bell. Between that and pushing my next meeting a half hour, I might manage to bring down the teen rage in our household back to its dull roar," she snickered with a light kiss behind her ear.
"Feeling ambitious today, are we?" she countered.
"Maybe Din is a bit much," at least she had managed to instill her wife with enough sense to sound sheepish, "but the updated memo has already been sent and my evening should be less pressing nor nearly as trying as the day so far has been. Besides, nothing is keeping me away from a well earned bitch-sesh and my many many plans for after," Adora breathed with a truly lewd gesture. Catra leaned into it before turning around.
"As much as I look forward to that," she gently pushed the blonde away, "your focus needs to be on our very scorned daughter. Now get out of here before she starts arguing for Kyle to cut you out of the custody agreement."
"Oh please don't tell me she back on that again,"
"Who knows, but at the rate you're going, she might very well be done with the afffadavits and moved on to revamping her Console Presentation."
"I get it, I get it, I'm going," She said, turning on her heal to head for the door.
"And at least try not to use your TO voice when talking to her, even I want to scream whenever I hear it and I can already tell it's going to be the placating "endless patience" variety."
"I don't even fucking know what that means," Adora sniped from the door.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, and I swear, if I end up dealing with a Belles' Blizzard all evening, I'm going to end up cussing you out too!" She shouted back with a smile, though it quickly disappeared with the blonde, along with Catra's freedom from the ever-present dread that seemed to be seeping into the edges of each moment of her life.
-----
Unfortunately Repast offered no relief nor suitable distraction from Catra's inner turmoil. Her original plans to "excuse" herself from interacting with anyone while simultaneously lifting her spirits via snacks and games with Finn were swiftly and thoroughly dashed. Apparently, Nan had responded to an urgent alert from the little traitor themself, pleading that their guard (and favorite minder) come save them from the boredom of being abandoned by both their mothers and moody sister. Nan had been more than happy to oblige and had taken Finn "out to sniff the sea" nearly an hour prior. In light of the sudden change in plans, Catra retreated to one of the more out of the way studies, lest she be accosted by whatever dignitary felt entitled to her or her wife's attention during the one break she had managed to make nonnegotiable during these grueling days.[^2] The downside of her hard-found solitude was it left her to her ever-present haze of anxiety, frustration, and if she was feeling particularly honest, loneliness.
It was afternoons like these that Catra struggled to contend with the reality of their lives. There had always been tensions levied by the Dern Shein Collective with the Intergalactic Federation. They opposed the rapid rise of the "House of She-Ra", wary of a single entity gaining so much sway and wielding so much power. They were critical of the IF's support of Eternia with their sordid history in relation to the rise of Prime and more recent recovery from civil war, and outright condemned how this connected to Etheria. Publicly, Adora hardly disagreed. Privately, she supported their opposition and voiced they might be right.
It felt disheartening how the agonizing eternity of a few minutes determined the next phase of their lives. Catra often found herself replaying that moment at this time the summer prior, sipping tea in the courtyard and enjoying the laughter of her wife. Choking on helplessness as that laughter was strangled into gasping silence, Adora's smile twisting into a look of horror and devastation at the visions trapping her inside her own mind. The wretchedness of the aftermath, their day suddenly thrust into grim meetings detailing the truth Adora was bound to. She-Ra had spoken, the notable Sovereign Blithe Surn had defiled the divine. Etheria will wage war against Dern Shein, and a vile war it would be. It felt like an ending, both now and at the time. With it came the dread.
And Catra was once again choking on it. It seemed to crawl down her throat and strangle her chest, a silent scream in her mouth. It had made a home in her bones, but haunted her in a way that made her wonder if it had always been there. Some moments she was so certain that the future had been born a tragedy, their lives a path of inevitability. She felt it in the panic when she woke alone. Saw it scrawled across drunken nights sitting back to back with Glimmer and the days she found Adora at the Fallen's Wall, reading the names of those she still believed she failed. It seeped into the cracks of Adora and Glimmer's friendship that never fully mended, in Lonnie's declaration she'd make a terrible mother despite having personally saved thousands of children, in Rogelio's numerous arrests, or the continued reality that Adam was still not uncle and Kyle was still dad. Why did she find herself grieving the living? Her friends, her family, her children, her wife were all here and whole and alive and yet their loss had become a forgone conclusion. A terrible something was coming and maybe it was already here. Here in this war that had yet to be formally declared. Here in their secrets, in lies from decades past, in quiet moments of absence even when Adora was right here. What they had built was something beautiful and true, but had they built it all on sand?
She was slow to realize her feelings were not quite her own. The building tension extended beyond her mind, the air thick with resonance who's only possible source was magic, that Catra's mounting spiral had been exasperated by an external supernatural force. She felt that something was coming because something was.
{sorry guys, this is the best scene transition you're gonna get}
"Upper Guard, sta--," the tension popped like a bubble before she could finish the command, it's after shock ripping through the room moments later, causing her comm to scream in her ear. Luckily, after quick examination, it became apparent that she must've been far enough from the epicenter to have not shorted the device and she quickly demanded. She got a few confused details, but no one from the West Wing had replied.
The knot of dread that Catra’s stomach had been twisting itself into had reached its own apex by the time her comms finally crackled to life.
“Brick to Catra, Brick to Catra, do you copy?” Brick’s voice was low and urgent, further demanding Catra’s undivided attention.
“Copy, Catra is live, Status on Finn, Belles, and Adora. And what the fuck did I just feel? Report?” she hissed, [^3]
“Still waiting on Status Update on Finn, Comms down in Upper West Wing centered around the Biblioethica. Belles is- Ador-... it was some sort of magic, most probably source is Belles, but that’s unimportant. Adora’s gone rogue and fuck, I don’t know how to explain this…” the line quickly devolved into a string of curses.
“What was the report before you were called?”
“Adora, Belles, and Bow were in the Bibliotheca with Lisa, Nox, and I at post. Tension has been high, and when Belles began to ice over, Adora signaled for space. Next thing anyone knows, there was a burst of wild sorcery, Lisa rushed in and immediately called for support. By the time I arrived, half of the attack response team had been rebuffed, Adora had taken Belle’s hostage, another two units including sorcerers had secured the floor…” Catra struggled to piece together what in the moons above was going on. “... We’re not sure what to do. We pulled out a unit to try to de-escalate, and Bow is giving his best effort to talk her down, but she ain’t right.”
“Who?”
“Adora… She’s different, she looks… young. Younger than I’ve ever seen her. I don’t know what to do, but she’s wicked dangerous right now, got a Horde insignia on her back and a knife to her daughter’s throat. And I don’t know if this Adora would hesitate to use it.” It took too long for Catra to process, the line falling silent as Brick’s words sank in.
“Ambassador-Consort?”
“You said the Biblioethica?”
“Yes ma’am.”
"I'm en-route from East Wing Ancillary Studies. In the meantime I want a full detail, start from the beginning and leave nothing out." [^5]
"Yes ma'am," Luckily Brick's second attempt at briefing the situation was much more succinct than his first. If what he said was accurate, because of some magic fuckery[^4] accidentally triggered by Belles, they were now dealing with an Adora steeped in Horde, young enough to appear younger than the near-17 year old Brick had met, old enough to keep an ART at bay. Somewhere between Junior and early senior cadets was most likely, although younger than that was possible with the Brightmoon Guard’s unwillingness to risk harm to children. Upon taking the place of Catra's very much a grown adult wife, Cadet Adora had made a blind dash in the ensuing confusion through the Biblioethica. When she found herself cornered, she changed tactics, taking their daughter hostage, only allowing Brick to step out to report to Catra while Lisa and Bow handled "ongoing negotiations". It’s not nearly enough information for Catra to feel any level of control nor confidence in the situation, but they’ve worked with less. Hopefully it was enough. A look of determination settled across her face as she committed to a plan of action.
“Ambassador-Consort Catra issuing orders!" She barked after switching her Comm to the Upper Guard channel. "All sorcerers are to evacuate immediately, any use of sorcery is strictly prohibited within 50 meters of the Bibliotheca. POI will find any form of sorcery threatening and can supernaturally sense it at a radius of 30 meters. Notify Queen Glimmer to stay clear of the floor and I want the entire wing of the castle secured, exterior included. Keep all weapons trained on the target, do not engage, approach, or so much as flinch in an aggressive manner. We are simply posturing, making it clear she is outnumbered and outgunned and that it is in her best interests to use the cards that she has rather than start spontaneously making new ones. Communicate to POI-Adora that Commanding Officer D’riluth will be there shortly to negotiate their demands in exchange for the release of hostage Cassabellia of House Aviva-D’riluth. Are we clear?”
Catra waited for the various confirmations before switching back to the private channel with Brick.
“And Brick," she said lowly, "Know this with absolute certainty, I will kill every single member of that response team if I lose my daughter and wife today because someone didn’t follow these orders to the letter. Do not underestimate a cornered child soldier who thinks she has nothing to lose.”
“I understand ma'am," he replied softly.
Catra turned her focus to increasing her pace across the castle spans, occasionally tapping in to issue more orders and resenting each unfortunately necessary minute she was forced to spend diverted from her path to the Bibliotheca to ensure the security of the Castle and Embassy grounds and its occupants. The only seeming grace of the situation was Nan's immediate and unquestioning agreement secure Finn as far from situation as possible. Despite no reported status changes, Catra couldn't help but feeling that she was already too late in arriving to the Upper West Wing. She immediately noted that the hallway itself was mostly empty with units opting to post at each juncture, leaving only Brick to guard the Bibliotheca’s entrance.
“Status report?” Catra asked quietly.
“Sorcerer’s were relegated to exterior warding, Nox has taken point in delegating the entire on-duty guard, with securing the wing still in progress. Queen Glimmer, along with most of the Wing, has been evacuated and is in the process of a full de-brief of the situation. We have 14 posted in a 5 yard radius semicircle around the target, effectively pinning her in the alcove on the southwest wall of Pre-Heart Galactic Records. She has not moved since first taking hostage of POI-Belles, and has maintained silence as far as I know since acquiescing to negotiations. I’ve opted to stand guard here as point on room security due to perceived negative disposition to my person,” he said with a grimace.
“Understood. No one is to enter this room until I give direct orders that say otherwise. I want units to set up containment wards in sectors in the event of escape, still abiding by the 25 meter restriction.”
“And if they fail?” Brick cut in nervously.
“Then I recommend everyone get out of her way. Adora will never forgive herself if she unwittingly carves a bloody swath through this castle. Attempt to herd her towards an exit, and we’ll deal with the fallout if it comes to that. Now, a moment if you will.” Brick nodded, stepping away from the door and giving her the space she needed to collect herself.
Catra took a deep breath, carefully pulling her hair from its tie and allowing it to fall around her shoulders. Part of her felt mildly thankful that she was dressed relatively formally in anticipation of a political stratagem meeting that would have taken place later in the afternoon. It would be enough for a younger Adora to take her seriously, and hopefully not so jarring as to leave her too unrecognizable from whatever version of herself Adora would remember. If she remembered Catra at all, if the assumption that they were even working with an Adora that had ever existed was true. So many ifs, so many unknowns, it was the exact sort of situation Catra loathed. Another deep breath. She had to hope, had to work under the assumptions that it was possible to establish any sort of grip on the situation. Enter, analyze, assess. Be prepared for anything, plan quickly and hope years of experience and instinct will be enough. She took one last moment to clear her thoughts and collect herself before entering.
The silence was the first thing Catra noticed. The bibliotheca had often been a fairly quiet place, meant to preserve peace and concentration. All of them had taken moments to retreat there, especially late at night to read and work through problems and plans in relative solitude. But even at its most vacant, there was always something, the tell-tale scratching of reed on paper, the shuffle of scrolls, a book being put away, a page being turned. Sometimes it had driven Catra up a wall when the place was too empty as it seemed to amplify every crinkle, step, and mutter that floated through the aisles. But now there was nothing but an ominous silence.
Catra proceeded with purpose, trying to exercise an air of authority and control to combat the suddenly magnified feeling of nerves and dread that was clawing its way up her chest. Her ears finally began to pick up the tell-tale the sound of nervous shifting of armor and labored breathing, the loudest being what she assumed to be Adora’s adrenaline filled panting. She forced her thoughts away from choked echoes of Belles attempting to suppress tears, instead focusing on following the path Adora must have torn through in her attempt to escape, and string of toppled shelves, broken furniture, and strewn books she left in her wake. The door to the alcove was open, allowing Bow to immediately spot her approach.
“She’s here,” he nervously announced to the room before glancing back at Catra, a far too unsettled look in his eye. The semi-circle of guards parted as she entered the room. “Adora, this is Commanding Officer D’riluth, as you requested, here to negotiate the release of Cassabella of House Aviva-D’riluth.”
“Catra?” a painfully young and frightened voice asked.
Catra had come to pride herself in being a pretty fucking unflappabble person. She had fought wars, traveled to a number of unique planets with even more unique inhabitants, and was surrounded by magic and sorcerers and royalty that spanned across the galaxy. She was married to a semi-deity, close friends with a technological genius, and was a major player on an ever expanding galactic stage. All of that painted a picture of exposure to the insane and fearsome and bizarre, to the point where she felt she could face anything and not flinch. None of that had prepared her for the scene laid out before her.
Fourteen guards with their weapons pointed at Adora. An Adora. A teenage, 13 maybe 14 year old Adora, at the age in which she had begun wearing high collars and long sleeves but still opted for red trimming and black utility pants and boots with exterior laces that were too stiff and too heavy. A ghost of Her Adora’s past now here in the flesh with limbs expertly twisted around Belle and a crystalline replica of her Horde dagger pressed against their daughter’s throat. Belles looked to Catra pleadingly, her jugular bobbing with a thick swallow, too afraid to speak. In that moment, Catra felt the same as well.
“Hey Adora,” thankfully she managed to keep her voice cool, despite it being the only thing that came to mind. Apparently it was the wrong thing, if there ever was a right one, as Adora responded with narrow eyes and a tighter grip on their daughter’s braid.
“Why don’t we all calm down?" she said smoothly, committing to a combined air of familiarity and authority. "Everyone is so serious, so tense, when I suspect it really is unnecessary. I think Adora would prefer to finish this without slitting a poor girl’s throat, as would I. Guards, stand down.” The order was clear and immediately, fourteen weapons returned to their wielders’ sides. Adora’s eyes to widened, though she made no moves.
“Who are you?” the blonde demanded. There was a drag to her cadence with a coarseness to her voice and for a moment Catra wondered if she'd been screaming.
“You already said who I am, dummy,” she wasn’t sure if laying it on this thick was the right, but Catra had always maintained one of the greatest appeals to Adora throughout the years, and seeing as the tied-greatest currently had a blade digging into her carotid, it might be the only one she has.
“You’re… you’re not you. My Catra, she isn’t you.” And if that wasn’t the crux of the situation.
“I promise I am Catra, you know me, and I know you. Like how I know your hair is shorter than you like it to be, because I had to cut it all off after a bad sim when we were cadets. I know the skiff accident wasn’t an accident, and you’ll keep the older staff model because it’s weighted better than the new ones, even if the stun margins are less precise," her tone soften, the words spilling from her mouth to provide comfort, or maybe a confession. "I know that you re-attempt sims, not to be the best, but because you have to, because you don’t know what will happen if you don’t. And I know you don’t want to kill Belles. You hate hurting people, and I also know you will if you don’t have a choice. I am here to give you one.” Catra watched as the gears turned in Adora’s head. But there was too much suspicion, too little focus. This Adora was off and disoriented, in a way that was possibly greater than what would be expected. Catra eyed the pallor of her face and the way the dagger pressed unevenly into her daughter's skin.
“Is this a test?” For a moment, there was something painfully vulnerable in the lilt of the question and tilt of her chin. Catra’s mind latched onto the new information, immediately attempting to dig back to where Adora’s thought process was at. Memories of what would be most recent for this Adora, conversations on sims and Shadow Weaver that occasionally graced an older Adora’s lips. And how to best ease her out of it.
“Adora, where do you think you are?” Adora blinked rapidly, her eyes refocusing.
“Enemy Territory. Most likely location, Candella, with possible locations found in Brightmoon.” Catra frowned.
“No, Cadet-Officer Adora. Where do you think you are physically?” she watched as Adora's gaze drifted to the guards around her. “Eyes on me and answer the question Cadet.” she reprimanded sternly and immediately hated herself.
The effect was immediate as Adora's body stiffened in attention. Even so, her response of “Sim room 27, Junior Cadets Block 18.” was also a lie, though a much more plausible one for the time.
“There are many indicators of a Simulation. One of the most notable and obvious is that though projections vary in appearance, their physical base in a hybrid-physio holographic Sim is fundamentally the same and thus differs from their visible appearance. I will ask one more time, where do you think you are?” Catra forced an edge to her voice, issuing the question as a command the child version of her wife could not refuse.
“The personal locker rooms of Junior Cadet Squad 188594. In process of ordered debrief with CO and Based Operating Commander of the Horde, Commander Weaver.” Finally, things were beginning to fall into place. Though she has no idea when exactly this Adora had been plucked from, she knew enough to proceed.
"So you believe that you are being tested by Commander Weaver?” Adora nodded slowly, and it became glaringly obvious. The disorientation, paranoia, drifting focus, and uneven breathing all pointed to an extended "private session" with Weaver. Now that she knew what to look for she could also spot the tremors and the ends of feather-fern patterned burns creeping down the back of her ears and the edges of her temples. “The longest Commander Weaver can maintain a fully immersive allusion of this caliber at that point in time would have been approximately 15-20 minutes, is that correct?” the girl blinked owlishly. Her Catra wouldn’t have had that information, but Adora had known down to the second, had a mental chart of the decline over time as the bitch waned through the years so she could count out each agonizing milestone to the full 29:22 from their childhood on the worst of her days. Catra took a moment to draw in a deep breath before proceeding.
“I told you I would give you an option that wouldn’t end with blood on your hands. It is your choice to take it. The alternative is the knowledge that I have a battery of guards in position to neutralize you at any cost." And though Catra knew more about this Adora than she ever had before, Catra was lucky that this Adora knew functionally nothing of the person her companion had become, at least not enough to catch her in such a blatant lie. "Now, I am going to have King-Consort and Techmaster Beauregard count out 29 minutes and 22 seconds, the longest Commander Weaver ever maintained this level of sorcery, which will put us at a time far surpassing her ability when we take into account how long you’ve been holding Cassabellia hostage. During that time, I am going to de-brief you on the situation. You do not have to speak or move, but if you have any questions, you are free to voice them," she doubted Adora would, but it was worth offering as a talking Adora would most certainly easier to predict and diffuse than a silent one.
"At the end of this time, I will have proven that you are not in some sort of test or simulation and what I have explained of the situation is true. And then I ask that you release Cassabellia of House Aviva-D’riluth, disarm yourself, and submit." She could not fully suppress her shudder at the word knowing she was weaponizing a trained response so ingrained, many of them were still susceptible to it to this day, Adora included. "From there you will be escorted to our Emissary Rooms where we can determine how to best proceed. Do you accept these terms?” Catra watched carefully as Adora weighed her rather limited options before slowly nodding once more.
“Bow, please pull up a timer set for 29:22 and count aloud. Officer Lisa, order Brick on stand-by for neutralization. All guards, if Adora shows any move of aggression, your orders are to preserve Belles’ life at all costs.” Catra waited for confirmation before continuing. “Now, let us begin.”
Adora maintained her silence for the entire duration of the timer as Catra attempted to gently explain that it was early Spring of 3014 and not what she estimated to be around 2995. That the Intergalactic War Against Prime and the generations long Hordian Conquest of Etheria had ended a decade ago. How Adora had long since shed the ambitions of Force Captain and now held the Mantle of the Great House of Aviva-D’riluth. She kept most of the details brief, skimming over most of their personal lives and attempted to simply outline the universe they now resided in, a planet completely unrecognizable from the picture painted for them in their childhood. She described how they were now allied, and very genuinely friends with Princesses and emphasized how the world was so much bigger and better than they had ever imagined. At some point around the 12 minute mark while she was describing a lacking conceptualization of She-Ra, Adora dropped her dagger in a mixture of awe and horror, the blade dissipating into thin air. By the time Bow counted out the final seconds, Adora’s face had gone blank, adrenaline finally having run its course leaving her shaky and dazed as she tried and failed to process what was either a psychotic nightmare fueled dream or undoubtable truth.
“Adora,” Catra said softly, watching the child crumble before her. “Are you ready to stand down?” The simple allusion to a command seemed to bring the girl back to her senses, causing her to scramble away from Belles, settling on her knees in the position of submission. Deciding that the threat had finally passed, Catra turned her full attention to her daughter who was hesitantly untangling herself from the restrained position she’d been in for the better part of an hour.
“Belles…” Catra cooed with open arms. Belles surged forward, burying her face in the magicat’s chest. Catra immediately moved to cradle her, slightly rocking back and forth.
“Momma…” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… I, I didn’t, ma, please…” Belles had never been one to cry, but now her chest heaved, body wracked with sobs.
“I know, I know, it’s going to be okay," she said softly, using a tone Belle's had scoffed at not two nights prior, huffing she was not a child and didn't need to be soothed like one. "I know that was really hard but you were so brave. So brave and you did so well.” she murmured, rubbing gentle circles on her child’s back.
“Momma?” Adora voiced, causing Belles to twist in Catra’s arm. Green eyes met blue. Catra watched the color drain from Adora’s face as the whatever pieces she had clicked into place. Like a long buried memory, the blonde stilled, expression falling empty as the light died in her eyes.
“Oh.”