Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I know everything about you. How you feel. How you taste. How you smell. Hell, lady, I could find you in the dark."

— Callie Dunne (Godless)

Catra, present 

In the brief seconds before Catra fully regains consciousness, she thinks she’s home. With a tightened chest, the thoughts leave. If she were home, in bed, her arms would be wrapped around Adora, who would be snoring softly.

But Adora is missing, and that’s how Catra got herself in this mess in the first place.

Realizing she’s bound, with her arms strapped down by her sides, she takes a deep breath. Great. 

Catra's been taken hostage before, it’s been a few decades, but it’s nothing new. Not ideal, but she can handle herself. Of course, it used to be much easier, back when people thought it was a good idea to tie a magicat with rope. Technology has advanced since then, and whatever material she’s bound with will be difficult to get out of.

But not impossible.

She braces herself before she opens her eyes. She winces—the fluorescent lights are far too bright. She tries to sit up a little, scanning the room to the best of her ability. It looks like a cross between a science lab and a hospital. It reeks of bleach and other cleaning chemicals. There's a mechanical whirring that won't stop, and monitors blinking with little green lights. 

Her memory is still too fuzzy to piece together what happened before she ended up in this place. Sometimes after dying, it can take a minute or two to process what just happened, though Catra suspects she’s been drugged, not killed. For whatever reason, effects wear off more quickly after death. Whoever is keeping her must know that, meaning she’s in danger. She just knows she has to get out before they drug her again.

Adora’s still out there, somewhere, and Catra refuses to waste any more time, not when she could be looking for her.

She extends her nails hopelessly and curls up her hands. The nails dig into her skin, and it takes around thirty seconds for the skin to close. That's good, she can still heal. She exhales in relief.

If she remembers correctly, it takes approximately a minute and forty-five seconds for her hand to start recovering after it’s broken. Unpleasant, but efficient. The problem is the sedatives haven’t completely worn off yet, she’s still sluggish, slow.

She just needs some more time to snap out of it, and then she can get out of here, wherever here is.

Outside the door, heels clack against the tile.

Apparently, she doesn’t have time.

Catra's ears twitch as she hears a voice say, “She’s awake sooner than we expected she’d be, sir. Should we give her another dosage?" 

"No, I think it's time we've properly met," the second voice replies. His tone is cold, steely.

Catra grits her teeth. She doesn’t have the patience for this. If she weren’t bound, if she weren’t still drugged, those two people would already be dead, and she’d be on her way out of here. Her best bet is to plan the quickest way to do that.

When the door swing opens, something shifts, and Catra knows she’s not going to escape as fast as she had hoped. It’s Prime himself, he looks crueler in person than his pictures gave him credit for him. Power radiates off him, it’s a deep greed she hasn’t sensed in a long time.

His sickly green eyes lack any warmth, and he smiles blindingly, before saying, “Hello, Catra. I apologize for your present condition. We wanted to finish arranging things to make your stay more… comfortable.”

Catra wants to tell him he can go fuck himself. She parts her lips to say just that, but her tongue is still too dry to speak, so she does her best by glaring at him.

He makes a strange sound, something that he probably considers to be laughter. He moves from the foot of her bed to her left, keeping his distance.

She raises an eyebrow, and he says, “Do you not recall? You’ve already killed six of my men under two dosages of scorpioni venom.” He holds up a syringe in his right hand. “Just one dosage is lethal for most.”

And gross. The possession of scorpioni venom is illegal. It’s a dangerous paralyzing agent, and its effects last longer than other substances. Catra hasn’t been injected with it since one unfortunate incident with her first mercenary partner. If Catra wasn’t immortal, she probably would have died. It took a lot to falsely reassure Scorpia that some magicats are immune to scorpioni toxins.

No wonder she’s still struggling to recover. She eyes the syringe he’s holding. If she can keep him talking, she might be able to shake off the venom's effects before he attempts to administer more.

“I’m sure you’ve been curious about why I’ve been holding you here,” he says.

And okay, maybe she won’t have to try that hard to keep him talking.

“I’m hoping you’ll help me uncover the ah, science behind your immorality. It would be such a gift to share with all of Etheria. No more sickness, no more death. I'm sure you understand.”

Catra tries not to grimace as she twists her right hand, it takes longer than she expected for it to break, she hasn’t had to use this move for quite some time. She and Adora don’t get themselves in nearly as much trouble anymore, not since Glimmer and Bow joined the picture.

Glimmer. 

Catra's head races. Glimmer was with her poking around Prime Industries, looking for any trace of Adora. If she was captured too—Bow is definitely going to kill both of them.

“Of course, it won’t be easy for you to be confined here, but I can assure you we will make it more than worth your time. After all, what’s a few years for someone who can’t die?”

Her hand is raw and numb, but it’s free. If he takes just a few steps closer, she can grab the syringe—

“I have to admit I was surprised I wasn’t able to find you in Halfmoon. I had a team spend five years searching for you in D'riluth."

That was a waste of time, D'riluth is Halfmoon's capitol, it's where she was born. After the war with Eternia ended, Catra never went back. It didn't feel right to go home, not when she was undying and so many of Halfmoon's soldiers had died.

Prime continues to prattle on, and if her escape wasn’t so imminent, she would have fallen asleep.

And finally, he takes a single step closer, raising the syringe.

“The problem with being immortal,” she tells him, grinning at his dismay to see her speak, “is that I unfortunately cannot die of boredom.”

With her left hand still bound, Catra yanks the syringe from his grip, and injects the venom into his neck. He falls onto the floor with a satisfying thump.

“One dosage is lethal to most, right?” she asks.

He doesn’t respond.

Once she’s free from the medical table, she runs out of the room, greeted by eight armed men.

“Really?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “How are these numbers fair?”

She kills two of them and scratches the hell out of a third before the bullets stop her. Not her proudest moment, dying in front of all these people, but she likes to think she gets points for trying. She made it pretty far without an actual weapon.

Catra, 800 years ago

Halfmoon and Eternia are at war, and Catra still resents the brightness of Etheria’s surface.

She's sitting by herself on a hill, not far from Halfmoon's camp. The moons and stars are reminiscent of the crystals that glow deep in the center of Halfmoon, but they're still too bright for her ill-adjusted eyes. She stares up at the night sky anyway, looking at the constellations is good practice for her written Eternian. She can speak Eternian fluently, as the commander of Halfmoon's army she has to, which she thinks is dumb, it’s not like she can’t communicate with them in Etherian anyway. But she knows on the off chance she’s able to make negotiations, speaking Eternian will grant her the Eternians’ respect.

It's doubtful it will ever come to negotiations, though.

Catra sighs.

She's used to being restless the night before battle, it's a habit. A bad habit, but Catra sticks to her rituals. They've gotten her this far, and soon she'll be the one to lead Halfmoon to victory against Eternia. The Eternians won't be able to harvest any more magic, at least, not from Halfmoon's territory.

The Eternians claim that channeling Etheria's magic is a good thing, but Halfmoon knows it's better to be left alone. They had promised that if Halfmoon lets them create an elemental earth runestone, Halfmoon will be in charge of watching over it. It's the same deal they made with Candila, for the Spirit Ember. In the process of channeling the fire magic, half of Candila burned. Supposedly, the Spirit Ember is stable now, but Catra doesn’t believe that for a second.

And it’s simple: Halfmoon isn’t going to take the same risk with the earth magic, so they fight, and hope that Eternia will eventually leave them alone.

Silently, Catra makes her way back to her tent. 

She lies down but tries to stay awake for as long as she can. If she sleeps, she'll dream, and she can't afford to be haunted by whatever visions she’ll see this time. They always start out the same: the flash of an Eternian sword, a glimpse of morose gray eyes, a sad smile. The warrior (Catra assumes she's a warrior) then proceeds to die. The deaths are never the same, sometimes it's by sword, a clawed throat, an arrow to the eye. 

Catra's no stranger to war or death, but something about these dreams unsettles her. She wonders if this girl exists, or if these dreams are a product of the magic the Eternians stole. Either way, Catra can't allow herself to be distracted.

The unnerving thing is: she's beautiful. That's what frightens Catra more than anything.

*

Catra doesn't need to leave her tent to know that something is wrong. The air is too still, too tense. 

She steps out of her tent and clenches her fists. The sky is almost black, even though it's morning. It flashes with red lightning, beautifully and terribly wild. Catra shudders, and marches across camp. She pictures the Eternian warrior with her blade creating this dark storm as an attempt to threaten Catra’s army.

“I know you’re out there,” Catra says aloud, eyes narrowing as the sky flashes red again. She can sense her. After three weeks of visions, today’s the day they will finally meet.

Her tail swishes in anticipation. And it's funny. She’s not afraid to guide her people on the frontlines. She’s not afraid to fight, and she’s not afraid to die out there. But she is horribly afraid of a blonde girl she’s never met.

*

By the time Catra comes across the Eternian warrior, she had given up on finding her. Her whole body is aching, and she can’t smell anymore, as the air is thickly saturated with exposed flesh and fear. Her vision is so fuzzy she doesn’t register that she’s looking at the warrior until she starts walking towards her, slow and deliberate.

Catra stills at the sight of her. 

“It’s you,” the Eternian says in a daze, as if she's dreaming. Part of Catra wonders if they’re both dreaming, if the war surrounding them is only a nightmare.

Catra tries to get a better look at her: her hair is halfway out of her ponytail, her face is caked with grime, and her forehead is bleeding. Her golden armor looks like it's seen better days. If the bags under her eyes are any indication, she must be as exhausted as Catra feels. Catra eyes the drying blood on her sword; it's an admirable piece of weaponry, but it's far more terrifying up close.

"I wasn't sure you were real," the Eternian admits. She studies Catra, probably trying to figure her out the same way Catra is. 

Catra’s jaw goes slack. It never occurred to her that while she was having visions, the warrior could have been as equally confused. 

Then again, she could be lying. Catra swallows. Despite the bleeding and dirt, the warrior is even more beautiful in person. It doesn't make any sense. 

"What do you want from me?" Catra asks, tightening the grip on her sword instinctively.

The girl tilts her head. "What makes you think I want anything from you?"

Catra notices her eyes are bluer than they were in her dreams, almost electric. And her forehead isn't bleeding anymore. Maybe it was never bleeding in the first place. 

The warrior looks around and takes a step backward. Frowning, she says, "You have to walk away from me." She puts her sword away in its sheath to prove her sincerity. 

Catra can only stare at the warrior in her confusion. She's been dreaming of her for weeks, surely their meeting was supposed to amount to more than Catra simply walking away from a fight. Catra has never walked away from a fight, and she's never lost one. She's not going to change that today, just because some girl she's seen in her dreams tells her to.

"Why would I walk away?" Catra asks.

"Because if you fight me, you'll lose," the Eternian says, almost sadly.

Catra has to laugh.

Sure, she looks powerful, but Catra has fought enough Eternians in one lifetime to be confident with defeating this one.

"I don't have time for your arrogance," Catra tells her.  

"That's not what this is," she insists. "I have no desire to fight you."

Catra shakes her head, and gestures to the fighting around them. “I think you picked the wrong time and place to convince me of that.”

“I promise you,” the girl says. If Catra knew better, she'd think she was alarmed. "I dreamed of you, that has to mean something."

Catra is even more convinced now that the dreams were a trick, a tactic to deceive Catra. The red lightning flashes, it reflects in the Eternian's eyes. It’s decided: the girl before her is the storm, there is no safety Catra can seek here.

"Dreams don't mean anything," Catra says shortly, raising her blade. 

The girl is quick at unsheathing her sword. Catra swears that it thunders when their blades meet. It’s startling. It’s thrilling. The girl underestimates her, something Catra had planned on. But it doesn't last long, she catches on quickly and doesn't hold back. Against her will, Catra’s impressed with her opponent’s skill, she parries gracefully, a grace that shouldn’t be found on the battlefield, and strikes swiftly. Like most Eternians, she carries herself proudly, fights with calculated movements. Unlike the others, for whatever reason, she’s not fighting to kill.

But Catra is beyond exhausted. Her muscles scream every time she lifts her sword, and the soles of her feet are surely raw and bleeding. Sheer adrenaline is probably the only thing keeping her alive at this point. She blinks sweat out of her eyes, angry at the realization that the Eternian doesn’t appear to be growing weary: her breathing is even, and she’s hardly sweating.

“It’s not too late to walk away,” the Eternian tells her.

It's insulting.

With a grunt, Catra manages to puncture her shoulder.

“We both know I’m not going anywhere,” Catra says. “You really think you can convince me, now?”

The warrior frowns, and despite the injury, she’s able to disarm Catra, knocking her onto the ground.

“I had hoped I could,” the warrior says stiffly. She stands over Catra, tall and mighty, and points her blade at Catra’s throat.

It dawns on her: she lost.

At least she won’t have to live with that embarrassment for very long.

But the Eternian hesitates before striking Catra. It’s the blink of an eye. It’s a hundred years. Catra’s too lost in those stormy eyes to process time.  

And suddenly an arrow pierces through her neck. The Eternian cries out and stumbles to her side. She cries again as she tries to pull the arrow out, and crumples to the ground.

Catra places her hand on her throat, it was moments away from being cut open. And it should’ve been, if that arrow hadn’t gotten there in time. She stares at the warrior's body warily. There’s blood pooling around her hair, and her eyes are open: glazy and still. If she had just killed Catra, she would undoubtedly be breathing.

Catra reaches for the warrior’s sword, taking a minute to admire its craftsmanship now that its owner is dead. Eternian blades are broader than the swords that Halfmoon forge, it would take her a while to adjust to it. It’s heavy in her hand, but she’ll keep it as a prize, a reminder of the strange girl she dreamed of.

Then the girl’s body seizes, and she gasps like she can’t breathe. In her astonishment, Catra takes her in her arms, it’s impossible that she’s still alive.

“It’s okay,” she whispers to her. Enemy or not, it pains Catra to see her suffer. “It’s going to be okay.” Judging from the severity of the wound, she doesn’t have much time left. Catra doesn't know how she's still breathing at all.

And so, out of veneration, and a strange sadness Catra can't place, Catra speaks a blessing for her, an old one in Halfmoon's tongue.

Adora, 800 years ago

They told her the immortality is an old Eternian blessing, and that's what Adora has to remind herself when she comes to. She can’t allow herself to waste the gift, so she fights.

Dying itself is easy, almost effortless. Coming back is the hard part. More often than not, Adora has tried to stop it, praying that when her eyes go dark, it will finally be the end.

It’s never worked. Adora always wakes up, head groggy and body sore, until she fully heals.

This time, before her eyes flash open in a sudden seize of pain, she hears a low and soft voice speaking to her. Adora's muscles relax when she realizes it’s a blessing, even though she doesn't understand what's being said. She’s being held, for once. It’s been years since someone has touched her as a human being and not a holy thing.

The air still reeks of burning flesh and smoke. Adora struggles to inhale, her mouth tastes bitterly of copper. When her eyes finally open, she's met with blue and gold, and it comes back to her. She had been dreaming of the Halfmoon commander for weeks, but she could never remember the color of her eyes. Somehow, Adora finds it fitting that they’re two distinct colors.

She grimaces as she touches the spot the arrow came through, feeling her skin trying to close itself.

The commander looks at her horrified, and Adora can’t blame her. She’s supposed to be dead. And considering how keen the girl was on fighting her, Adora’s quite touched that she’s still by her side.

"You stayed with me?" Adora asks, smiling slightly and raising an eyebrow. It's the first sincere thing anyone has done for her in ages. It's the first time Adora's come back that she hasn't completely dreaded being alive.

"You can't be killed," the commander says, voice thick with disbelief. 

In the distance, Eternians start shouting, make their way closer. Adora can spot Light Hope's armor from here.

And it's simple, really. Adora gave the Halfmoon commander a warning, she didn't take it. 

"You shouldn't have stayed, though," Adora says, voice low. "I tried to tell you before, you can't defeat me."

Now there are Eternians surrounding them. Adora's still in her arms, and they yell at Adora. It's too much, too quick, they recognize that Halfmoon girl is a commander. They want to take her as a prisoner. The thought makes Adora sick. She knows what they'll do to her; she’s never agreed with the Eternian methods of torture, but Light Hope says sometimes it's necessary. 

The commander looks like she knows what her fate will be if Adora doesn't kill her. She meets Adora’s eyes, and there's an unspoken understanding. 

"I'm sorry," Adora whispers.

"Don't make me wait," she tells her firmly, ignoring her apology. 

Adora realizes that the commander isn't afraid, and that makes it worse. Adora's lost count of all the people she’s killed, their faces all blur. But she won’t forget hers, she especially won’t forget her eyes. Not after seeing her in her dreams for weeks.

Adora slices her throat open, making sure it's quick. Too late, Adora realizes she's holding the commander's sword in her hand, not her own. The commander deserved more than to be killed by her own sword, it's bad luck.

"Why did you kill her, She-Ra?" Light Hope asks. Light Hope refuses to speak in Etherian, preferring the formal qualities of Eternian. She always addresses Adora as She-Ra. 

Adora indignantly wipes off the blood off of the commander's sword and lays it over her. She can't answer Light Hope's question honestly. If she tells her about the dreams... well. It's not an option. Eternians are superstitious about dreams. Light Hope is especially old-fashioned.

"It matters not," Adora eventually replies, standing up and brushing off the dirt on her armor. "It is time for me to keep fighting." 

Light Hope nods in approval. 

*

Eternia wins the battle. Adora is ushered back into her own tent: it's the largest, designated for She-Ra. In it are some of the finer blankets and bedding. It's intended to be a luxury, but it feels like a prison. 

Adora wishes they didn't refer to her as She-Ra. She wishes the people of Eternia would stop begging her to cure the sick and heal the wounded and revive the dead. She can do none of those things. She isn't magic, and she's certainly not a goddess. She misses the days when she was still an ordinary soldier. Things were simpler with Mara by her side. Mara, the previous She-Ra, who trained her to fight in Eternia's army, who laughed with her when they found something to laugh about. The others never understood them, most Eternians are rigid, and disapprove of emotional attachments. Mara was different, Mara was warm.

When Adora became undying too, Mara protected Adora from undergoing the same trials she'd been through. Until the day they were ambushed. Adora came back, and Mara didn’t. Adora inherited the title, She-Ra, Goddess of War, and Mara became a memory.

That's the one thing that gives Adora a little bit of hope: that even this escape from death isn't permanent. She’ll fight for Eternia until her time runs out, too.

Light Hope often reminds her it's what Mara would have wanted.

*

Two weeks later the fight against Halfmoon continues. Adora wishes they would just accept the power of the elementals, it would be beneficial to both Halfmoon and Eternia, and it would end the war. Why they would refuse this gift is beyond her understanding.

Adora finds herself parrying when a voice says, “Hey, She-Ra.”

Adora promptly trips into the sword she’d been avoiding. She grunts and shoves the magicat she had been fighting onto the ground.

That voice has been replaying in her dreams. Adora hasn’t had any more visions of her since she killed her on the field that day, but Adora turns right, and there stands the commander from Halfmoon. She’s alive, only her hair has been cut and she’s no longer wearing her commanding officer regalia.

"You're alive?" Adora asks. She finds that she has to suppress a smile. 

"Yes, no thanks to you," the magicat says. Adora stares at the tight grip she has on her sword. 

"You mean—" Adora stops herself. Suddenly the dreams make sense. There’s a reason they both had visions of each other. Why another immortal would be from Halfmoon instead of Eternia is a little puzzling, but Adora would gladly take her company. It’s lonely, being the only one of her kind.

"I want you to undo it," the girl from Halfmoon tells her.

"Undo what?" Adora asks, confused.

“You turned me into this… thing,” she tells her bitterly. “I thought you were doing me a kindness by killing me. But you tricked me. You cursed me.”

Adora blinks at her. Adora had no control of this, if she had known it was within her power, she would have brought Mara back. She shakes her head. "It's a blessing, not a curse." And that's rich, coming from her. She knows she's probably not very convincing, it's horrendous, dying over and over. 

"Is that what your Eternians told you? When they dug up too much magic, and made us afflicted?"

Yes, Adora wants to answer. But Mara had been around for thousands of years, before her people started channeling the planet’s magic. Surely they’re not wrong about it being a blessing. They can’t be.

"Afflicted?" Adora asks. She clenches her jaw. “The blessing is wasted on you.”

And so Adora does what she was born to do: she strikes. 

The girl from Halfmoon meets Adora’s sword with her own. Lips curled, she tells Adora, "If you think dying over and over is a good thing, you're even dumber than I thought." 

And Adora is angry. Angry because there’s a chance she’s right, it’s a chance Adora can’t allow. Adora manages to stab her in the gut; she staggers back. It's not enough to kill her, but she trembles. 

"So now what?" the commander asks angrily. "Eternia and Halfmoon keep fighting until it's only you and I standing? How many people would die if it came to that? Not everyone can come back like we can."

Adora glowers over her as she heals.

"Don't tell me you're too good to knock me while I'm down," she sneers.

“I take no pleasure in your pain,” Adora replies.

“Really? O mighty She-Ra, Goddess of War, is going to wait till I fully recover before she smites me?”

That strikes a nerve. Adora sighs, and says, “I’m no goddess, I never wanted them to call me one.” It feels lighter, to share that. She's never had anyone she could share that confidence with since Mara died.

The girl doesn't have a response for her. 

"My real name is Adora," she says. Her name sounds strange on her tongue. No one's called her Adora in three years, not since Mara died.

It looks like her honesty changes something in the magicat. Adora squints at her: she looks rugged and tired, maybe even a little nervous, for some reason. 

"Catra," she says. 

Adora offers her a small smile, Catra doesn't return it. 

"I don't think we're supposed to fight each other, Catra," she finally says, tossing her sword to the ground to prove her point.

"Like hell we're not," Catra says. Her wound has healed enough for her to stand straight. Even though Adora’s now weaponless, Catra doesn’t waste a second to press the tip of her sword against Adora’s throat. 

Adora gazes into her heterochromatic eyes: fierce and reluctant. She's not convinced Catra will harm her.

But Catra proves her wrong by clawing her throat open. 

Adora wakes up with Catra leering above her. She has a sword in one hand and a knife in the other. For two seconds, she realizes she has never been this close to another woman, like this. Catra's mouth is startlingly close to hers. 

But that's not what this is.

Adora stares at her blankly. "Did killing me make you feel better?" she ends up asking her.  

"No," Catra admits. She sheathes her sword, but keeps her knife in her left hand, right above Adora’s heart.

But Adora is stronger than she is, she grabs Catra’s left wrist, and sits up.

"I meant what I said when we first met. About not wanting to fight you," Adora says. “Could we call a truce? I know a place we can talk.”

Catra yanks her arm away and stands. "Maybe if you can get your people to leave Halfmoon alone, we could talk, Adora."

"But the dreams—"

"The dreams?" Catra asks, shaking her head. "Oh, they did mean something." She bares her teeth. "I was born to destroy you, over and over." 

Part of Adora hopes she means it. 

Catra, present

This time, Catra smiles before she opens her eyes. She’d know those huffy little breaths and that smell of lavender anywhere.

"Hey, Sparkles," she says. She cracks her yellow eye open. Glimmer is on her left, strapped to a chair identical to the one Catra is on. It’s a step up from the medical table, and thankfully this room isn’t as bright. But it's still a prison.

There are more monitors in here as well, they’re both connected to them via tubes.

Both eyes open now, Catra takes Glimmer in; her eyes are red, and she looks characteristically pissed. But after making eye contact with Catra, she softens.

“Oh, Catra,” she says tearfully. It’s relief, it’s worry, it’s hey, at least we’re not alone anymore.

“How long?” Catra asks, trying to stretch her body to the best of her ability. Since she messed up by trying to escape too soon last time, her hands are in handcuffs and her restraints are tighter.

“I’m not sure, I think we’ve been here for almost two days now. I’ve been in this room the whole time. They brought you in this morning. At least, I think it was this morning.”

There aren’t any windows or clocks. Catra hates that.

“They run tests on you?" Catra asks, glaring at all the tubes.

“They've been asking me questions. How long it takes to revive, if I know the total amount of times I’ve died. I think they wanted more from you since you’ve been around longer."

“Great,” Catra says. “They already know too much. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to burn this place to the ground.”

That earns a laugh from Glimmer. “Please,” she says, eyes gleaming, “I know you’ve already thought of twenty different ways to destroy this place.”

“Twenty-three,” Catra says for good measure.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Glimmer says.

Catra laughs halfheartedly. “Okay?” Her wife has been missing for weeks, and now she’s stuck in a heavily armed Prime Industries center. Catra inhales slowly, counting to ten, it’s never been easy to wind down. “I’m… glad we have each other. We’ll get out of here soon enough. They made a mistake leaving us together.” She grins.

Glimmer smiles back but it falters. "Bow's going to kill me," she tells Catra. It's not the first time she's made this statement over the centuries, but Bow has never once killed Glimmer. Glimmer, however, has killed Catra many times.

(Some of those times were called for. Others definitely weren’t.)

"I think he'll just be relieved to see you. He must be worried sick."

“I can’t believe you talked me into this," Glimmer says, half accusing, half joking.

Catra considers this. "I’m pretty sure this wasn’t my idea. I think you said, and I quote, 'If the two of us go to Prime Industries alone, we'll draw less attention.' That was before I knew you had a gun on you." Catra's still sour recalling the sensation of getting shot, she's never liked guns. Mostly she's bitter about getting caught, they were so close to finding a lead on Adora’s whereabouts when they were discovered. Glimmer shot the man who found them, and it was all over from there.

"Guns are more efficient than those claws of yours," Glimmer mutters under her breath. 

"These nails," Catra corrects, "are quiet, and don't draw attention." 

Glimmer stays silent. This isn't the first time they've gotten into arguments over weapons. It certainly won’t be their last. They can never stay as set as Adora with her never-ending sword collection and Bow with his archery.

"Do you think she’s here?” Glimmer asks, knowing better than to mention Adora’s name.

"I hope not," Catra answers. She means it, she doesn’t want to think about Adora having been stuck here all these weeks. But if she isn’t here… Catra can’t let herself give in to the possibility that Adora is really dead. If she is, Catra hopes her time is up soon, too.

Catra, 800 years ago

The thing is, Catra wants to hate Adora. She had planned on killing Adora over and over for turning her into this strange undying thing, she wanted to claw her eyes out, to cut off her head and see if she'd be able to recover from that. She thought killing her last time would make her feel better. It didn't, she felt like she was going to throw up. She saw the emptiness in Adora's eyes, saw the way it lingered even as Adora claimed being immortal was a blessing. 

But Adora’s still the reason Catra can’t die, and she’s the reason her army thinks she’s dead. She doesn’t want to be recognized the way the Eternians herald Adora as She-Ra. She cut her hair, she sleeps in shared tents now, she wears cheaper armor.

And she’s never felt more alone in her life. She avoids the other magicats, it’s hard to look them in the eye when their lives are at risk and hers isn’t.

Part of Catra suspects Adora is just as lost as she is, that makes hating her more difficult. 

Especially when she still dreams about her: her blonde locks silhouetted by blood, that icy stare of hers, the curve of her lips when she’s trying not to smile.

*

Turns out, some deaths are worse than others. Blows to head are probably the worst.

When Catra comes to, she wonders if her brain is still recovering, because Adora is right there, standing over her, tall as ever and smirking, and Catra's heart races at the sight of her. Catra groans in annoyance.

"You got yourself surrounded by five Eternians, that was pretty careless of you," Adora says.

Catra makes up her mind right there: she hates Adora. 

"Is there something you want?" Catra asks, trying to sit up but still too weak to sit up fully. She abhors the idea of Adora seeing her in these spare moments of weakness. Adora doesn’t have the decency to wait to talk to her until after she’s finished healing.

Adora notices that she can't sit up and has the audacity to crouch down next to her. Catra can feel her face shifting into a scowl.

"I'm here with a warning for you," Adora says. "Since you wouldn't take me up on my truce last time."

"A warning? Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

"I just thought you'd be interested in knowing we're not completely immortal," Adora says.

Now that's an intriguing thought, but Catra finds it hard to believe. She's been killed over ten times now, and she's completely recovered each time.

"It doesn't last forever,” Adora continues. “I know you think you're cursed, Catra. But I wanted you to know it ends, eventually. I hope that offers you some solace."

It does.

It doesn't. 

It's too much to comprehend with those pale blue eyes gazing at her like she means something. Catra's strong enough to sit up now, so she shoves Adora and stands up. 

"How do you know that?" Catra asks, feeling better now that she's standing with Adora in the dirt. 

"There was another. She was an Eternian, like me." Adora bites her lip. "She was She-Ra long before I existed. One day we were both ambushed, I came back, and she didn't."

"Why are you telling me this?" Catra asks. Without thinking, she reaches for Adora, helps her up. 

"You're one of my kind," Adora states simply, as if they're not enemies, as if she's genuinely looking out for Catra.

Catra rips her hand away. Adora doesn’t seem to register that their hands were touching at all.

"You know, this is the longest we've gone without killing each other," Adora adds, with a smile. 

Catra hates that smile. It promises too much falsehood.

"Why did you have to ruin it?" Catra asks, furiously swiping her nails at Adora's neck. Adora manages to dodge her head slightly. Catra ends up scratching her cheek. "We're in a war. If you could just stay dead, maybe Halfmoon could win." 

"Maybe you will kill me for good one day," Adora says, pressing her hand against her newly bleeding skin. "But Eternia will win before that happens."

A beat passes between them. There's a glint in Adora's eyes, and Catra knows she's half a second too late; Adora's sword punctures through her ribs. 

When Catra wakes up, Adora is long gone. 

Catra gingerly touches the spot Adora stabbed her. There's some dried blood, but it’s still startling to see her unmarred skin. Catra shuts her eyes, listening to the sounds of the battle around her. 

She doesn't even know how long Adora's been living with this curse.

She doesn't think she wants to know. 

*

Next time, Catra gets to Adora first. 

She tries to choke her, but Adora is too close, her warm breath sputters against her. Catra resents the sound. She ends up biting Adora's shoulder and digging her knife into Adora's back instead. 

Catra regrets it immediately, now that she's familiar with the taste of Adora's blood and skin. In her distraction, Adora kicks her, and Catra almost lands on top of her. 

Almost. 

It starts to rain. It's heavy and cold. It mixes with Catra's sweat and stings her eyes. This is the first time it's rained since the red lightning began. 

Shit, Catra thinks. Magicats are more vulnerable in the rain, the water blurs their vision, and scents get erased. Catra looks around, soldiers on both sides are falling back. She supposes it doesn't matter, now that she's no longer their commander, it’s not her place to give orders.

Adora hasn't moved, she’s sitting perfectly still and unflinching as the rain hits her, staring at Catra like she's trying to figure out if she can drown her in a puddle. 

Or maybe that’s just Catra projecting.

"Any chance you would consider calling a truce, now?" Adora asks, with that annoying hint of desperation. 

Catra's brow furrows, there's no way she's serious. 

They rise at the same time, and Adora holds out her hand. She's shaking, Catra can't tell if it's from anxiety or the cold. But Catra can't accept this, she'll be damned if she follows Adora into a trap. She can’t trust Adora, she knows that much.

But at the same time, she's curious at what Adora thinks could possibly come out of a brief armistice.

“Lead the way,” Catra ends up saying, against every instinct. She doesn't take Adora's hand.

Catra hates the way Adora smiles in response. She hates the way Adora never looks back as she guides her towards the Whispering Woods, as if she knows that Catra will follow her no matter what.

(She wouldn’t, she has some limits.)

Catra pauses before she steps into the forest. There have always been stories about creatures that lurk there, how trees move and strangle trespassers with their branches. She stares at Adora's muscular back, and mentally slaps herself. They're probably the scariest beings in the woods. So she continues to follow Adora.

Neither of them says a word. The rain isn't as heavy, but Catra's still freezing. With every step she takes, she familiarizes herself with the way Adora marches forward. Her posture is stiff, and she stands tall. 

Eventually, Adora leads her into a cave. Adora starts a fire and Catra's eyes wander. The light from the fire doesn't offer much, but Catra can see fairly well in the dark. She notices the crates of supplies scattered throughout the enclosure. There’s also a tattered rug, a cot, several pitchers, some ropes, and a saddle. Adora clearly stocked this place up before the war started.

Catra sits down across from Adora, keeping her shoulders high. She won't allow herself to look comfortable in front of an enemy, if that's even what Adora is anymore. Catra thinks she crossed that line the moment she decided to follow her out here.

When she meets Adora's eyes, she recognizes her doubt; it was just as risky for Adora to lead Catra here as it was for Catra to follow her. Catra shivers, but it's less intense than it was when they were outside. The fire may be small, but it's warm. The sound of rain falling isn't so bad from inside the cave. It's soothing. 

"How long have you had this hideout?" Catra asks, breaking the silence. 

“It used to be Mara’s. She—she was the She-Ra before me.” Adora looks longingly at the flames. “I haven’t been careful with hiding it, like you’ve been,” she confesses. “I’ve only been… blessed for three years. I never wanted to be a goddess; I just didn’t know how to get out of it.”

Catra lets that sink in. Three years isn’t a long time but it’s long enough for someone to die painfully countless times.

Adora glances at her with hollow eyes. “I had hoped since you’re undying now, it meant my time was over.”

Catra has no clue what to say to that. “Sorry to disappoint you,” she says, like an asshole.

“It’s fine, I’ve lived through worse. Besides… it’s not so bad with company.”

Catra sighs, watching the shadows flicker on the wall. “You know I’m still your enemy, right?"

She's not convincing. Adora laughs, it's a soft sound. "Is that really how you see me? You followed me halfway through the Whispering Woods in the rain," she points out. Her voice is hopeful, her eyes bright. 

"You're the biggest threat to Halfmoon right now, I'm only here to learn more about you," Catra lies. 

Adora's smile wavers. "Then there's nothing left to say." 

The fire crackles.

"Catra," Adora says gently. "All I know is that you're the only one like me, with Mara gone. I think that's why we dreamed of each other. I don't think we're meant to be on our own." 

Catra will never admit she wishes this were true. Her initial anger towards Adora dissipated once she learned she had no say in any of this. But it doesn't solve their current predicament. Maybe if there wasn’t a war going on, and maybe if they weren’t on opposite sides of it, they could figure something out. Maybe even be friends. Catra won't let herself consider the possibility of anything more. 

Catra wishes her tone doesn’t come off so harsh as she asks, “What are we supposed to do then, Adora? We’re in the middle of a war. You Eternians are taking too much magic from the planet. Halfmoon is going to stop them before they do any more damage."

Adora doesn’t say anything. Catra knew it was a bad idea to follow Adora out here, but she was worried about the wrong things. Seeing Adora silent and sad is far worse than fighting her on the battlefield. But what did Adora really think would happen? That Catra would come out here and stop fighting? That they would wait out the war together, in this cave?

Catra stands up, bracing herself to walk back to Halfmoon's camp, even though the rain hasn't slowed.

Only now does Adora speak again. “Please stay. You can take the bed.”

The bed is nothing more than a cot, but it looks a lot nicer than the bedroll Catra’s been sleeping on for the past few months. Her back won’t be practically touching the ground at least.

“Thanks,” Catra says. She allows herself to be lulled to sleep by Adora's breathing. Surely she can be near her, for just one night.

*

Two years pass, and Halfmoon is safe from the threat of runestones. 

Eternia isn't done trying to conquer the world, but they'll leave Halfmoon alone, for now. 

Catra isn't fooled, though. She knows this isn’t a true victory. Halfmoon has lost more than half of their above-ground territories. What remains is mostly going to be reserved for farmland. Over two-thirds of Halfmoon’s population had already lived underground, but now they’re going to seal themselves off from the surface world until the Eternians stop messing with all the elemental magic.

And Catra is left with a choice.

She can return home, and try to live in peace, or she can try to stop Eternia from causing any more harm to Etheria.

Well, it was never really much of a choice.

Not with Adora still out there.

Adora, 750 years ago

The strangest thing about living this long has been the lack of aging. Every time she looks in the mirror it's a jolt: she's marked permanently as twenty-five. She hasn't even seen Catra since Halfmoon sealed itself off, but she can imagine it: Catra grinning that same fanged grin, her freckled face devoid of any wrinkles.

Light Hope, though, is old and frail. Still, she insists on guiding Adora, proud as usual to be the one guiding She-Ra.  

"It's time we pull you out of the war," Light Hope says one day. "You are needed elsewhere." 

At first, Adora embraces the change, she's exhausted of the constant fighting and dying. Light Hope has praised her for all the Eternian lives she's saved, but Adora thinks she's seen enough bloodshed. 

Light Hope takes Adora far north. How Light Hope isn't affected by the miserable snowy weather, Adora doesn’t understand. It's not enough for Adora to freeze death, and it wouldn't really matter if it were, but she's chilled to the bone.

*

Things are red. 

Things are blurry. 

She can hear someone calling her name, her real name. In the haze of snow falling and blood—she can't tell if it belongs to her or someone else—all she can concentrate on is the soft call of Adora, not She-Ra. That’s jarring, the Eternians only refer to her as She-Ra.

But that voice, it couldn't be.

Adora wakes up in the snow. She blinks. Catra is sitting two feet away from her. It's an unexpected comfort. Catra does look exactly the same, the only difference is that her hair has grown out again. There's something reassuring in the reminder that Adora isn't the only one living with this. But Catra doesn't look happy to see her. Adora shouldn't be disappointed in this, but she is. 

"What are you letting them do to you, Adora?" Catra asks.

"I—" Adora can't remember all the details, it's still too fuzzy. Something about a different kind of magic, an experiment. It would be too risky to try on someone mortal, so she had volunteered to test it out. 

"Is that all you see yourself as, a weapon?"

"I am not a weapon," Adora snaps, automatically defensive. She’s a guardian, a protector of Eternia and Etheria's magic.

"If that’s true, then why are you letting the Eternians use you as one?"

"I'm trying to help them—"

"What good is it doing you?" Catra demands. 

That question catches Adora off guard. She doesn't permit herself to worry about her needs, not when Eternia needs her more. 

Catra shrugs, and says, "You were the one that said being immortal is a blessing. What good is a blessing when they use it to make you kill your own people?"

Adora shakes her head in denial. "I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"You didn't because of me," Catra says flatly. "I came in and took the blows so your precious Eternians could go and hide."

Adora observes the red splotches on Catra's clothes. 

"Did I—" it’s bizarre, asking if she had killed her, considering she already has, countless times. But it’s different, today Adora wasn’t conscious of it. Catra looks more shaken than she has in the past.

"It’s nothing you haven't done before," Catra says, making direct eye contact with her. It's suffocating. "But you’re a lot more violent when your eyes are red." Catra stands up.

"Where are you going?" Adora asks. 

"Back south where it's warmer."

"The storm is only going to get worse," Adora says. 

"So, what? If I freeze to death I'll just come right back, it doesn't matter." 

"You could stay." With a pang, it hits Adora how badly she wants Catra to stay. "You came here for me, right?"

Catra's eyes widen and she looks to the left, where the Eternian facility is. "I caught wind of the... experiments they wanted to try. Turning their own people into weapons. I didn't realize you were involved. I wouldn't have come if I knew you were here." 

"So you have been avoiding me, for half a century." Adora was worried that was the case.

"Well," Catra says with her fanged grin, "looks like you were the one who was counting." 

Adora is too lost in that grin to reply coherently. 

The snow starts to fall heavier. 

"Are you sure you should leave?" Adora asks. "I could sneak you into my quarters, till the weather clears."

Catra snorts at that, and then laughs a genuine laugh. It's soothing, it’s forgiving, it's everything Adora imagined it would be.

"Till next time, Adora,” she says, trudging down the hill.

“Is that a promise?” Adora calls after her. Catra doesn’t answer her. Adora takes it as one anyway.

*

When Light Hope dies, Adora returns to the war.

Dryl is the first kingdom outside of Halfmoon to reject a runestone. Seeing Catra on the battlefield doesn't surprise her, it’s clearly a cause Catra believes in.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra greets her, with a smile. It’s friendly, playful, if Adora didn’t know any better, it would be as if Catra was just a friend, meeting her for sparring practice.

As soon as their swords meet this time, Adora realizes that something has changed, but she can’t tell why. Then it's clear: Catra’s not fighting with her usual anger, she’s enjoying this. It’s almost a dance, the way they step around each other, the way they don’t have to anticipate each other’s moves—they've memorized them after all this time. Catra’s quick, light on her feet, and Adora wants to show her that she can be graceful too.

She swears Catra’s almost smiling.

“Are you... enjoying this too?” Adora asks her.

“It wasn't obvious?” Catra asks, her voice less steady than usual. Catra then winks at her, and Adora's never felt more tongue-tied. "Good thing too, considering we're going to be fighting each other forever. We might as well have some fun with it."

Adora's not sure how she feels about fighting Catra forever, but it might not be so bad, not with the way Catra's eyes light up when their swords clash.

*

Adora comes to for a minute, surprised to see Catra at her side. Before Adora can say anything, she passes out from the pain, every molecule in her body feels like it's on fire. When she opens her eyes the second time, Catra is still there, holding her hand. Catra usually avoids touching her in ways absent of violence. She must've carried Adora deep into the woods, away from the battle. 

"I saw some of your brain matter," Catra says without meeting her eyes. "I wasn't sure you'd come back this time."

Adora wants to say that's ridiculous, of course she'll come back. Waking up to see Catra is an incentive to do just that.

"Worried you'll miss me if I stay dead?" she asks playfully.

Catra glares at her. "You know we're not actually immortal, and we don't know how long this will last. Is this really how you'd want to go? Haven't you died enough times for your Eternians?"

Adora winces, even though she knows Catra's right. "So what you're saying is, you wouldn't miss me."

"I'd miss fighting you," Catra says, letting go of her hand. "Even if you are just a weapon."

Adora frowns. "Why do you always call me these things? An enemy, a weapon. Am I nothing more to you?"

"You're annoying."

Adora can't help it, she feels herself beaming at her. Catra, the same woman who's stabbed her, choked her, slit her throat countless times, reddens. It's ridiculous. It's lovely. It's enough for Adora to allow herself to hope that things between them are changing. 

Adora groans as she sits up, and Catra stays close to her, she even allows their thighs to touch. They sit there in silence, there’s not even the sound of birds, not with the war on the edges of the woods.

“What is it you want, Adora?” Catra’s staring at her firmly, her mouth inches away from Adora's.

"I—" she falters. She hasn't known how to want anything, other for than this curse to end, for years. She's felt drawn to Catra since she first started to dream about her. Enemy or not, she wants to be by her side. She wants to shield Catra from the war. She wants to ask her if it would be okay if she kisses her, even though she knows it wouldn't be right. Not now, not yet. Not when there's still a war being fought, when people are dying and they're still breathing. 

Adora parts her lips. "I want it to end," she finally says, standing up.

Catra stands up as well, meeting her gaze. "So stop fighting, Adora." Catra's voice is hoarse and tight. 

"Would you stay with me?" She extends her hand, and it stings, it stings every time she offers Catra her hand only for Catra to slink away.

Catra’s mouth twists. This is the most torn she's ever seen her. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you," says Catra, sharp as her knife.

When Catra walks away, Adora doesn't try to stop her.

Catra, present 

Refusing to whine to Glimmer, Catra sulks in silence. She misses her home. Since Adora went missing, Catra hasn’t gone back to their cottage in the woods. They fixed it up together, it used to be an old She-Ra temple. It felt wrong to return until Adora was found, the same way it felt wrong for Catra to return to Halfmoon as an immortal.

Ever since Prime mentioned D’riluth, Catra’s felt more homesick than when she first went up to Etheria’s surface. The room she and Glimmer are being held in is almost quiet enough to be a cavern in Halfmoon, it’s just missing the sound of water dripping from stalactites.

Early in their relationship, when Catra was still trying to teach Adora Halfmoon's language, Adora had suggested they visit Halfmoon. Eternia had already broken down into several kingdoms, most of which Catra had seen for herself during the war. But Adora had never ventured underground. Most non-magicats refrain from going, it's dark, even with all the lanterns. It's a completely different world. 

"You speak of D'riluth so fondly, I'd love to see it," Adora had told her one day, speaking perfectly in Halfmoon's tongue, minus the wavering in her voice.

And Catra replied with, "Go see it for yourself, I'm not going back." 

Adora frowned at her, and Catra tried to ignore it. Really, she did. 

"I don't want to go without you, Catra," and Adora got up from their poorly fashioned living room. 

She must be thinking too loudly, or maybe she sighed, because Glimmer asks, “What are you thinking about right now?”

It's a loaded question. 

What isn't Catra thinking about. 

Catra bites her lip before telling Glimmer, "I've been thinking about how we've got to get out of this room." And how once they find Adora, she'll promise to go to Halfmoon with her, stay as long as she'd like. Catra knows Adora will love Halfmoon, she'll love the quiet, she'll love the crystals, and she'll definitely love the food. 

Catra considers her biggest sin over the centuries has been robbing Adora of Halfmoon cuisine that wasn't Catra’s poor attempt at cooking. Eight hundred years, and Catra still hasn't mastered cooking.

"Do you really think we can get out?” Glimmer asks, her words coming out rushed and afraid. “There's only two of us, and who knows how many of them—"

"What more can they do to us, kill us?" Catra asks. “No, we’ve got to get out before Bow ends up in here too. We’ll break out, take down as many of them as we can, regroup with Bow, and come back to destroy all the evidence they have on us.”

Glimmer thinks it over.

“And what about Adora?”

Catra looks away, stares at her feet. Against everything she wants, she says, “If she’s here, we get her out. If she’s not, we’ll have to put the search for her on hold. We can’t risk getting exposed. That would endanger her even more.” She closes her eyes, inhales slowly. Adora has to be here. 

"We'll find her, Catra," Glimmer says. 

For the first time since her capture, Catra bites back tears.

After Adora had left the room, Catra followed her the same way she'd follow Adora anywhere: tentatively, with her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm sorry," she had said, speaking Etherian. "I'm just not ready to go back yet." 

"It's okay," Adora said, overly understanding—that never changed. "I just thought—you talk about it so much. I know it's your home." 

"It's not anymore," Catra replied. "Hasn't been for a few centuries." 

"I meant—"

"I know what you meant. I'll take you there one day, I promise."

Those pale eyes brightened, almost enough to convince Catra to pack for Halfmoon right then and there. And then Adora kissed Catra so delicately that Catra almost broke it to tell Adora that her home lies wherever Adora currently is. 

"It's not like we're in a rush for time," Adora told her. 

Catra wishes she took Adora to Halfmoon and never left.

Catra, 700 years ago

It's not the first time they find themselves like this: Catra on the ground, Adora standing above her, the tip of her sword dangerously close to Catra’s throat. Catra thinks she prefers it when Adora kills her without hesitation. But lately, Adora’s been slower to strike her. Catra can't figure out why. 

"Why hesitate?" Catra asks. "I mean, you can't kill me. Not for good. What's stopping you, Adora?"

Adora doesn't answer her, just stares at Catra with those piercingly beautiful eyes of hers, as if she looks hard enough, Catra will surrender. 

But Catra won't. She lost count of how many times they've killed each other a long time ago, and she's not going to go soft now, not after Dryl has held their ground against Eternia, not when they're this close to finally defeating the Eternians for good.

Adora looks at her sadly. "Have you ever considered that I'm tired of fighting?" she asks.

It occurs to Catra that Adora might be talking about them, not the war, but she can't afford that hope. 

"Tired of fighting?" Catra scoffs. "They call you a war goddess.”

“I told you, I never wanted that.”

“But you never walked away from it. Admit it, we were born to fight.”

"Is that what you really think we're here for?"

"Why else would we be here?" Catra asks, resenting the small and scared way her voice sounds.

Adora seems to realize that she's still holding her sword against Catra's skin, because she puts her sword on the ground, and sits down next to her. 

"What are you fighting for, Adora?"

"I'm here to help my people."

"By destroying the planet?"

"Once the magic is controlled, it can help—"

"Do you really believe that?"

"I have to," Adora says. "We're doing what's right for Etheria." Her bottom lip quivers.

It’s true that at first glance, Adora is everything an Eternian should be: she’s a warrior, she’s powerful, resilient. But there’s a softness to her, and Catra doesn’t want to think about what that could mean. Especially when Adora still thinks that she’s on the right side of the war.

Adora's eyes are stormless, and she can't take it. 

"Attacking people who don't want to accept your magic?" Catra snaps. "It's pointless, it's cruel. And it's heartless." That seems to strike a nerve, but Catra can't bring herself to stop. "You're heartless," Catra tells her. "Just like every other Eternian."

Adora replies to her in Eternian, "I cannot be heartless, for I think you are my heart." It's hopelessly Eternian, it’s hopelessly Adora: overly formal and dramatic. 

All Catra can do is to stare at her breathlessly. She's never once spoken to Adora in Eternian. She doesn't know if Adora knows she can understand her; she idly wonders if that would have changed anything.

Before Catra has a moment to reply with something witty, Adora kisses her.

It's rough and rushed and there's too much teeth but Catra holds on to this moment. It's more painful than dying because Catra knows they should not be doing this. She's too close to Adora; she's not close enough. Catra can't tell if she never wants to touch Adora again or if she never wants to stop touching her. Adora's hands roam over her body lightly, tracing over her waist, taking Catra's hands in her own. Her touch burns. Catra bites Adora's lip and savors the way her breath hitches and then—

She's bound. During all that Adora had managed to tie her hands together.

"I'm sorry," Adora says.

Catra's uncertain if she's apologizing for kissing her, for tying her, or both. 

Catra's ears twitch at the sound of an explosion in the distance.

"That was a dirty trick," Catra says slowly. If she weren't so angry, if she weren’t so betrayed, she'd be impressed. She should have bitten Adora's tongue off when she had the chance. It was probably the only opportunity she'll ever have.

"I can't have you following me this time, Catra," she explains, as if that could possibly make it better. "If I kill you, you'll just come back, and I know it won't take you long to get out of this rope. This is my best bet. Even if it's only a five-minute head start."

She's not wrong, Catra realizes. It's the smarter move. 

If only it didn't hurt so much. 

(It has no right to hurt this much.)

"What, are you going to stab me in the heart too, then?" Catra asks. 

Adora winces, as if she has any right to be hurt.

With wet eyes, Adora breaks her neck instead.

When Catra wakes up, she's bound to a tree. 

*

“Can't we at least talk about it?” Adora asks, after Catra has headbutted her, tackled her onto the ground, and gave clawing her eyes out a try. (They came back dazzling, icy and blue.)

“Talk about what, Adora?”

Adora doesn’t answer, just stares at Catra’s bleeding lips.

“Would you really have me kiss you here, right next to all this carnage?” Catra asks her, gesturing to the bodies around them.

“You don’t understand, I am the carnage.”

Catra stills.

“I’m their war goddess, remember? This is my fault.”

Catra clenches her fist, digging her nails deep into her own skin instead. Adora taking all the blame is unbearable.

“No, it’s not. You really think Eternia wouldn’t still be fighting, with or without you?”

“But I helped.”

“I helped too. The only difference is I care about what I'm fighting for and you don't."

And maybe that was unfair to say. Maybe when Adora charges at her, Catra takes her in miserably, and hesitates before raising her sword. Only, Adora doesn't hesitate. 

When she opens her eyes, Adora is holding her close. She's crying.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“What for?” Catra asks, shuddering as her wounds heal. “This is nothing new."

"You hesitated this time," Adora begins. "Why?"

It still hurts to breathe. 

"Maybe I'm tired of fighting too," Catra admits.

If Adora wants to kiss her again, she doesn’t.

Bitterly, Catra’s grateful for it.

It's better this way.

Adora, 650 years ago

Eternia is splitting.

Since Light Hope died, they haven’t had a leader nearly as influential or tactful. Even She-Ra can only serve as a warrior, not a leader.

With all the elemental runestones in place, Eternia’s territories don’t want to share their power anymore, they want to become their own smaller kingdoms instead. Pacts are being broken left and right. And now the territory in charge of the Heart Blossom has branched out and called themselves Plumeria. Its people are tired of war. Adora can understand not wanting to fight anymore, but now Eternia is weakening just because some territories want to keep their elemental magic to themselves.

Seeing Catra outside of Plumeria is almost the last straw.

Adora hasn’t permitted herself to think too much about Catra over the past few decades. They’ve fought each other less, Adora was certain Catra selected her battles based on whether or not Adora would be there. On the rare occasion they do fight, the banter between them has died. Neither of them has brought up the kiss again. Catra had kissed her back, but Adora saw the betrayal in her eyes when she realized Adora deceived her. Adora’s painfully aware she ruined any chance of them being amicable after the war.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says, with a disapproving frown. “You’re not really about to fight Plumeria, are you?”

“It’s not like they’re innocent civilians,” Adora counters. “I’ve fought alongside most of them. It’s wrong for them to keep the magic for themselves.”

“Do you really think that’s what they’re fighting for? Adora, they don’t want the magic anymore, they want to get rid of it.”

That can’t be true.

"What are you talking about?" Adora asks. 

"Has it ever occurred to you that all of Eternia isn't in agreement? Plumeria knows the magic isn't safe."

“What do you mean it’s not safe? More magic means more power, more protection.”

“More magic didn’t do Candila any good, Plumeria isn't going to end up like them. They're going to destroy the Heart Blossom before it ruptures again.”

Adora forgets what breathing is. That can’t be so. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you serious? They kept that from you, too?” Catra puts her sword down. "Of course they did. Do you even know that Candila keeps catching on fire? Their princess can't control their runestone."

"You're lying," Adora says. But as far as she knows, Catra has never lied to her. She's killed her, taunted her, glared at her, but she's never lied. She had heard that the Spirit Ember was difficult to manage, but surely Candila hasn’t been repeatedly catching on fire.

Something in Catra’s expression changes. Adora can’t read it. “Maybe you should see for yourself,” Catra says. For once, Catra puts her sword in her sheath before it has the chance to get stained with Adora’s blood.

“Would you come with me?” Adora tries, even though she knows it's a weak attempt.

Catra gravely takes a step backward, saying, “No thanks, I’d rather not find out if I’ll come back after getting burned alive.”

Adora can't fault her for that.

*

Candila is almost entirely empty, save for the princess in her castle. The land is scorched, the air is smoky. 

Catra was right. 

The Spirit Ember is dangerous, and so are the other runestones. Halfmoon and Dryl were right to reject them. But Adora knows a little about channeling Etheria’s magic, it’s probably the only thing Light Hope was good for.

It means she has the chance to fix it, to stabilize the fire runestone and get rid of its magic before it can hurt anyone else.

The Spirit Ember flickers. It's a warning. She doesn't have much time before it bursts into flame, she can seek safety and try again, or she can get rid of it now, and maybe even die with it. 

When Adora comes to, she still feels like she's burning. Her skin prickles, everything is ice-hot.

Catra is at her side. 

“Spare me the lecture,” Adora says, trying to sit up and focusing her attention on anything that’s not Catra's breath. For the first time, Adora’s not even a little relieved to see her.

“Are you serious?” Catra asks. "Is that what you really think I came to do?" 

"Isn't it?" Adora asks flatly. "Why else would you have come here?"

You hate me, she wants to say. And I don’t blame you for it.

When she finally has enough courage to face Catra, she’s met with wide and intent eyes.

“Because I think you might be my heart too,” Catra tells her.

Her Eternian is so flawless, Adora doesn't register that Catra isn't speaking in Etherian. It's been decades since she spoke similar words to Catra. Adora had assumed Catra didn't speak Eternian, making it safe to tell her the truth before she kissed her. Granted, she tied her up and killed her immediately after, it makes sense that Catra would never have acknowledged what was said. But still, Adora needs to know. 

"You understood me, this whole time?"

"I was the commander of Halfmoon's army, Adora, of course I know how to speak Eternian." 

"Oh," Adora says. “Why didn’t you say anything back then?”

“Because I wasn’t sure we could exist together without killing each other.” Catra stares at her woefully, eyes absent of their usual spark. With a shaky breath she says, “I’m still not sure.”

“I’m sorry,” Adora says, unsure of what else she could possibly say to make things better.

“I’m sorry, too.” Catra's mouth is tight. "I'm not going to be fighting anymore," she eventually says. "It's been over a hundred years and I'm sick of it." She eyes Adora carefully, like she’s afraid of breaking her. As if Adora could be more broken than she is at present. "This might be the last you see of me for a while." 

Adora nods, slow, at a complete loss of what to say next. Part of her wants to tell Catra that she’s already made up her mind, she won’t fight for Eternia anymore, but Catra's right. As much as she wants to be near her, she's no longer sure they can coexist. It's a crueler trick than being undying, not knowing when she'll see Catra again. 

Adora watches Catra as she leaves, her head low, her ears flat. 

Adora could call out, tell her that she won't fight for Eternia anymore. Tell her she was wrong about the runestones, about Eternia being a great land, how she’s spent almost two centuries fighting for the wrong cause.

Adora's throat is parched. Her heart is heavy, it might not make a difference to Catra at this point. She keeps her mouth shut.

Maybe it is best for Etheria if Eternia falls.

Catra, present

They have a plan; they just have to wait. 

But then Prime comes in, shoulders high. 

“I must admit, I’m surprised you haven’t made another escape attempt, Catra,” he says, probably disappointed that he hasn't had the chance to kill her again.

"Looks like one dosage wasn’t enough, huh?” she asks. If he survived the scorpioni venom, he’s going to be more difficult to get rid of.

Prime stays still, aside from the narrowing of his eyes. 

Catra shrugs, as best as she can considering she’s still bound tightly. "You know, out of all the people who've captured me, you're by far the most boring." His upper lip curls in annoyance. She counts that as a victory.

Glimmer chimes in, "What, surely you didn't think you were special just because you caught two immortals, did you?"

Prime's right fist twitches, and with a stern eye towards Glimmer, he says, "I'm afraid there's not anything you can do for me now." He shifts his attention towards Catra. "You see, there was a reason I sought you out, Catra."

"And what is it exactly that makes me so special, Prime?" 

"You have the most experience with She-Ra," he says callously, as if she's a trivial matter, not Catra's whole existence.  

Catra has felt her heart stop beating before, but not like this. It feels like the world has stopped moving, she hasn't heard anyone utter that name in decades. 

Prime unfortunately notices her reaction.

“Ah, so is that what it takes to get an actual rise out of you? I know most histories and myths focus on She-Ra, but I've always been far more interested in you. I know your origins date you to the Runestone Wars. You knew better than to trust the Eternians, you were the reason Halfmoon was spared from one of those monstrosities." He pulls out two syringes, letting them know what's coming. "And you were strong enough to defeat She-Ra, despite her being millennia older than you. I had set up the trap in Candila for you, so you can imagine my surprise when we found She-Ra instead, although I am delighted to have made myself acquainted with her. And yet, I think you might be more agreeable than her."

"Agreeable in what way?" Catra asks, fighting to keep her voice level. Adora is here. Adora has been here the whole time.

"As eager as I am to find out how one becomes immortal, I am curious to find out if it’s possible to control its end. She-Ra is your oldest enemy. She's been around for long enough, wouldn't you agree?" 

"Right," Catra says, clamping her mouth shut. It takes all of Catra's self control not to react to the idea of them being anything but married. If only he knew. She tries to sit up straighter. She fakes a smile and asks, “You want me to help you kill She-Ra?" He doesn't nod, he doesn't blink. She has to stall. "I'll consider it, if you tell me and my friend here how you discovered our existence in the first place."

Catra, 600 years ago 

Since Catra left the war, she's discovered some things.

The first is that she can drink herself to death, but she’ll come back painfully sober. She spends a week figuring out the balance. She can't get hungover, and no matter how much she drinks, the loneliness doesn't go away.

The second is, being a mercenary is pretty easy when you can't get killed. It pays well and it's brilliantly risky in a new way—Catra doesn't have to see Adora or mess with anything magical. She doesn’t hear anything about runestones.

She does most missions on her own, it's the safest way to avoid the risk of getting killed in front of a witness. She gets stealthier and quicker, and it's nice not to die as often.

She works with a woman named Scorpia for two years, she’s not really cut out for the business. Scorpia quits to get married to a woman from Plumeria, and Catra couldn’t be any happier for her, or more jealous.

And then she meets Double Trouble. They were both hired by the same client, who wanted to cover all his bases by hiring more people to ensure the mission wouldn't fail. Catra found that tasteless, and so did Double Trouble. After they complete their mission (which was, begrudgingly, fun with company) they kill the client, take his money, and stick together. 

Catra tells herself she can only work with Double Trouble for two years. It then turns into five, then seven. She knows they have to go their separate ways. And it's stupid, she'll miss them. She hates that she'll miss them. She hates that she can't befriend anyone for more than a few years because then they'll notice she's not aging, and that's not safe.

But Double Trouble is almost better than her at tracking people, and that's what concerns her. 

She makes her way out to the Crimson Waste since it's supposed to be isolated. People don't survive out there, which means even as someone as skillful as Double Trouble won't be able to find her without risking their own life. 

To her delight, the Crimson Waste isn't desolate. It's alive, dangerous, and enticing. Catra can see herself staying here for some time. 

*

She's sitting in an isolated corner of a tavern. There's a group of shady looking men, speaking in low voices, though thankfully they're within her range. 

"I hear they're offering big money to anyone who can get their hands on She-Ra," one says. He's missing one of his horns.

"She-Ra is a myth," another says. "An Eternian legend."

"No, she was there in the wars," the third insists. "My father fought under her. She sliced through her enemies without a second thought. And when she died, she came right back to life. She doesn’t even have a single scar.” 

The man with the missing horn says, “They say she's at a temple in the Whispering Woods, wouldn't be that hard of a job."

Catra drinks more, only fueling her anger.

They continue to talk loudly, boldly. They mention witchcraft, burning, and drowning. Catra’s blood burns through her. None of these things would ultimately kill Adora, if they found her, but it would be painful. Catra worries that if they harm her so frequently, her body might not be able to regenerate fast enough, or it would simply just give out.

Either way, Catra won’t let them touch her. She considers ripping out their throats. But she suspects that these aren’t the only people who want She-Ra gone. Getting rid of them won't keep Adora safe.

All she knows is she has to find her; she has to warn her.

Adora is harder to track than she anticipated. Catra checks the cave first for any sign of her. It’s filled with more clutter, but there’s no recent trail. It then occurs to Catra that Adora might not want to be found, not after the way they parted in Candila.

As Catra makes her way closer to what used to be Eternia, she discovers that there are many temples for She-Ra. Some are empty, with dried, crumbled plants that must’ve been flowers ages ago. Other temples are located deeper in the woods than she expected most people to venture out to. The crowded ones are closer to the main road, filled with people praying to her, thanking her, for ending the war.

This area is called Bright Moon now, and in several of the temples, there are murals featuring Adora dismantling the Moonstone. Catra had no idea Adora sought to destroy the other ones.

Catra speaks to a couple in Eternian, asking if they've ever seen She-Ra for themselves. They say yes, She-Ra has saved their village from a boar attack. With a stab, it hits Catra that She-Ra was always more than a weapon for her people, she was their hope, a protector. No wonder Adora didn't want to take She-Ra away from them.

But it doesn't bring her any closer to Adora. She loses track of the number of temples she's visited. Catra doesn't even know if Adora currently lives near one, if she caught wind of people wanting to harm her and fled. She could be anywhere, but Catra knows she can't stop searching. She has to find her before anyone else does.

The temple that draws her in is more camouflaged than the other ones. There are no crowds of people, and it smells like Adora, her scent lingering faintly over the smell of burning candles. She was here recently, and that’s good enough for Catra. She’ll stay here tonight and continue her search in the morning.

Catra tiptoes around, the floor is stone, cool and firm. There’s a mural of She-Ra on the wall, only, she has significantly longer hair, and is much taller than all the Eternian soldiers surrounding her. Catra smiles at the sight of her. 

She freezes, hearing quiet footsteps, and the sharp inhale of someone’s breath.

"It's a nice place you have here," Catra jokes. 

"Catra?"

Catra turns around, and blinks twice. Adora is donning a long white dress, and her hair is braided down her side. She's wearing a garland. She doesn’t look like she’s ever fought once in her life. It’s jarring. Catra’s only seen her filthy from fighting. There's not a speck of dirt or blood on her. If Catra didn’t know any better, she would believe that Adora is a goddess. She would worship her just like everyone else. 

"I thought you said you didn't want to be treated like a goddess," Catra says. 

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go, after I took care of the elementals.”

Catra wants to ask her why she subdued the elementals at all, and if she's been living here alone this whole time. Instead, she says, "It suits you, the dress I mean."

Adora flushes from her cheeks to her chest, from what's revealed through the opening in her dress. "It's a good change from the armor," she says. 

"I know what you mean," Catra replies, biting the inside of her cheek. 

"Catra," Adora begins, and stops herself. Her brow is furrowed, she's afraid, wistful. 

"I needed time, on my own," Catra says. But seeing Adora again, lovely and waiting, she wishes she came to her sooner.

Adora nods, understandingly. “But you’re here now.”

Catra’s mouth is dry, and she shakes as she tells Adora that she's in danger. Adora’s reluctant to believe it. Catra knows how it sounds. Adora's been undying for years, genuine danger must sound like a foreign concept to her, especially after Candila. 

"Let them come, then," Adora eventually says, "I can take them."

Of course Adora puts on a brave face. It’s infuriating.

"You've been warned," Catra says, stepping closer to her. "There are worse things than death."

"Why are you telling me this?" Adora asks, her eyes wide and confused.

I'm not afraid anymore. 

I missed you.

I never should have left you alone.

"You're one of my kind," Catra says, it's an echo of what Adora told her once. She hopes that's a good enough answer. "Please, Adora, don't let them find you," she begs. 

"I won't, I promise," Adora whispers. Something changes in Adora's expression, she looks pensive, decisive. "Thanks for looking out for me," Adora says.

"It doesn't matter, not really," Catra says, shifting on her feet. "You're untouchable, I'm not saving you from anything."

"Exactly," Adora says. "I'm untouchable, but you chose to save me anyway."

Catra stays silent, until her breath hitches as Adora steps closer, gently pressing their foreheads together. To Catra's own surprise, she lets her, she even puts her hands on Adora's cheeks. It feels more intimate than if she kissed her. They stay like that for a few minutes, maybe even hours. Time has changed for Catra, and Adora practically freezes it.

Eventually, Adora pulls away. “I guess I should get my things together,” she says sheepishly.

“Yeah,” Catra agrees. And then she says, “Adora?” and Adora doesn’t move. Catra leans in and kisses her.

It’s different from the first time. It’s slow, it’s tender. There's no blood. There are no tricks. And for all the times Catra has seen Adora fight, the ferocity in her movements, the power of her sword, she kisses Catra so softly, she can't imagine how Adora was ever a symbol of war.

*

They end up camping in the woods.

“So what now, do I become a mercenary with you?” Adora asks.

Catra laughs. “It’s a little more than that,” she explains. “I fight for what I think is right.”

Adora sits with that. “I like that,” she says.

“I like that, too.”

"Hey, Catra?" Adora asks. She tries to speak to her in Halfmoon's language. Catra thinks she’s trying to say, "We'll look out for each other."

Catra can’t stop herself from laughing unabashedly. Her accent is awful.

"That bad, huh?" Adora smiles at her anyway. “I wanted to learn it for you.”

Catra smiles back, she appreciates the sentiment. "Terrible," Catra confirms. "Good thing you've got me to teach you now." 

Catra kisses her, places her hand on the back of Adora’s neck, moves her body closer.

They fall asleep pressed against each other.

Catra’s had many nightmares, or memories, of killing Adora. This time, when the nightmare comes, Adora doesn't come back. 

She wakes up wanting to scream.

Her arm is around Adora, her nose buried in her neck. She smells like earth and spring flowers. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Slowly, she starts to back away. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe there's no way they can be together now, not with their history. Adora shifts, and Catra thinks she’s still asleep, but Adora rolls over to face her.

“I’ve had those dreams too,” she says, and closes her eyes. “You taunt me, and I snap. And then I wait for you to come back. I beg for you to come back. Did you know sometimes, when we actually fought, I would wait till I saw you breathe again before leaving? Just to make sure I didn't kill you for good? It's my fault, you know. You were right to be mad. If I hadn't killed you that day, you could be at rest.” Her eyes flash open. “Do you still hate me for that, Catra?"

"Not anymore," Catra assures her. "We were doing what we thought was right, at the time.”

"It went on for too long," says Adora.

"The war lasted for too long. If I wasn't so stubborn—"

"If I stopped fighting sooner—" Adora pauses that thought, her eyes soften, pale and bright. "You were important to me, anyway."

“How long did you know that I meant something to you?”

“Oh, Catra,” she says. “I knew I felt something since you spoke that blessing for me. I had never felt so at peace coming to.” Her lips brush against Catra's forehead. "I let them call me a goddess because it was nice to have a sense of purpose. And then you came along." She laughs. "Catra, you shifted everything. Do you really not know? I was a coward for confessing to you in a language I thought you didn't speak. It doesn't matter how long ago it was, my feelings haven't changed." Adora pauses, and then quietly asks, "Do you understand?" 

Catra brings their lips together, an answer. 

"Maybe this is why," Catra breathes out. "Maybe this is why we're here."

"The dreams, you mean?"

"Everything."

And then Catra kisses her all over.  

Adora, 400 years ago

Adora should be used to it, she's seen Catra die endlessly. She was responsible for a large handful of those deaths. 

But when they're ambushed by a group of men after a mission, they kill Catra first. Catra, who took an arrow for Adora. 

It makes Adora freeze for a moment, it's a shock to see Catra lifeless. Adora doesn't think it's possible for her to ever get used to it. She wants to wait at Catra's side, wait for those knowing eyes to open, but those men are still here. They're coarse, and only foul things come out of their mouths. Adora can't stand it.

She kills them all before Catra wakes up. 

When there's light in her eyes again, Adora presses her forehead against Catra's, covering herself in blood that she's not sure belongs to Catra or some of the men.

"You took too long this time," Adora says worriedly. 

Catra fake scoffs at her. "It's not something I can help." Catra kisses her, and then pulls away. Her nose scrunches, probably from smelling all the blood. "Did you—"

Adora nods, pulls Catra close to her. Her voice cracks as she says, "You didn't hear them talk about what they wanted to do to your body." 

"Shh," Catra says, wrapping her arms around Adora's waist. "It's okay, we're okay."

Adora vaguely remembers the time Catra said there are things worse than death. Adora picks her up and starts walking. 

"I should be able to walk in a few minutes, you can put me down."

"I want to get you as far away from here as possible."

"Okay."

"Okay," Adora repeats. 

She knows when Catra's fully healed because her breathing comes in regular breaths, and she starts to purr. That surprises her. 

"Are you happy right now?" 

Catra laughs halfheartedly. "That's not what it always means."

"What does it mean then?"

Catra buries her face in the crook of Adora's neck. "It means 'don't go.'" 

Adora lets that sit with her, for a bit. Eventually the purring stops.

"You know I'm not going anywhere, right?" Adora asks as she sets Catra down on a tree stump.

"You know it's involuntary, right?" 

Adora sighs before she tears a piece of her shirt off. She starts to wipe the drying blood off Catra's cheek. "But that means part of you is worried that I'll leave, doesn't it."

Catra stays silent. 

"You know that's ridiculous right? We're kind of stuck with each other."

Catra shoves her, and Adora loses her balance, landing on the ground.

"What was that for?" 

"For being an ass," Catra says. 

Adora doesn't doubt it, Catra's called her that many times before, but at least then, Adora knew why.

"I'm sorry?" she tries. She hopes she wasn't insensitive bringing up Catra's purring. 

Catra rolls her eyes. "Don't worry about it."

"Catra..." She takes her in. Catra won't look her in the eye. “I know you better than anyone could possibly know anyone, but you still have to tell me what's wrong."

Catra closes her eyes. "I don't want you to think you're stuck with me, just because we’re immortal.”

“Is that really what you’re afraid of?” Adora asks. “Catra,” she says, leaning forward to kiss her clothed knee. “Catra,” she repeats, inching higher. Catra cups her hand on her cheek, and Adora turns to kiss the palm of her hand.

“I just get scared sometimes. Of losing you,” Catra finally says.

"You're not going to lose me," Adora says.

*

Two hundred more years pass, and Adora had forgotten how intense the flashes were. She never imagined that a girl with pink eyes and purple hair could be so threatening. She seems afraid, and that's what concerns Adora, fear makes people dangerous. Especially immortals.

For centuries it's only been her and Catra. Adora's terrified about what it could mean for there to be another. It wasn't very long after Mara died that Catra came along.

"Did you dream about her too?" Adora asks, shaking Catra awake. 

Catra glares at her, Adora knows she should have let her sleep longer, the birds aren't even singing outside their cottage yet. It's still early. 

"Dream about who?" Catra asks, but she's too sleepy to be a great liar. Not like Adora doesn't know all of her tells now anyway.

"Catra, she looks scared," she tells her.

"And?"

“Don’t you remember what it was like? She must feel so alone. We need to find her.”

"And then what? Etheria's not even at war right now, and the runestones are all gone. What are we going to do with another immortal?" 

“We’ll figure it out,” Adora says.

Catra closes her eyes and clings to Adora, but Adora knows she’s not asleep. Adora kisses her cheek and shuts her eyes. 

*

Two weeks go by and the dreams don't stop. They dream of second immortal. He seems kind. 

"The dreams aren't going to stop until we find both of them," Adora reminds her. 

"Why do you think there's two of them? They're here to replace us,” Catra snaps. “It’s safer if we keep our distance.”

"We don't know that’s what this is, Catra." 

"I'm not going to risk it," Catra says. 

"It's not just your choice to make." 

*

Adora's resolved to find them on her own. It's foolish, to leave without Catra, but she knows it's not right to leave these new immortals on their own. 

She ends up finding them in an alleyway in Bright Moon. 

"I'm not here to hurt you," Adora says, holding both hands up.

“We’re not going to take any chances,” the girl with pink hair says, her glare menacing enough to rival Catra’s.

Adora wakes up tied to a chair. It must be one of their apartments, though Adora can't tell who it belongs to. 

Bow introduces himself and apologizes for Glimmer’s behavior. 

"You shouldn't have let her kill me," Adora says. "My wife will be pissed."

"Is she the other one we see in our dreams?" he asks. 

Adora nods. 

*

After Catra kills both Glimmer and Bow for kidnapping Adora, the four are able to call a temporary truce. Like Adora had predicted, they're both frightened, unsure of what to do next. 

“When did you two find each other?” Bow asks. 

“Back when Eternia still existed,” Adora says. 

“You’re kidding,” he says. “One of my dads specializes in Eternian studies. I'm sure he'd have a million questions for you.”

Catra shoots Adora a sad look, and Adora looks at her feet. It’s too dangerous for him to see his fathers, like this. Adora doesn't know how to break this news to him, neither she nor Catra had any family they left behind, it was an easier transition in that regard.

“We fought each other during the Runestone Wars,” Catra says, an attempt to divert the conversation from his fathers for now.

"Did you ever kill each other?" Bow asks. 

"Once or twice," Adora says. Catra winks at her, never failing to make her heart flutter. She wraps her arm around Catra’s waist, kisses her shoulder. It was a long time ago, but she still has the occasional nightmare of killing Catra and Catra not waking up. It’s an unspoken anxiety they still share. Catra squeezes her hand. 

“The Eternians believed she was a goddess,” Catra says. "You ever hear of She-Ra?"

Catra, one month ago

Catra has reservations about going back to Candila. There are nothing but bad memories there.

"We'll be fine," Adora insists, packing her bag. 

"You don't think it's strange?" Catra asks. "You single handedly dismantled every single runestone, but the Spirit Ember has come back to life?" 

"It's strange but not unprecedented," Adora says, examining her sword collection. She picks up two of them, and Catra knows they're not identical but she can't tell the difference between them. "That's the only runestone that actually killed me in the process, maybe there was something I missed."

"Six hundred years later, and it ruptures again?" Catra tries, wincing at the sound of her strained voice.

Adora purses her lips, sets the swords down. She meets Catra's eyes and has the audacity to laugh. "What, are you worried about me?" 

Catra rolls her eyes. "If I admitted I was, would that stop you from going?" It's a pointless question, if Adora's determined to do something, she'll do it. 

Adora walks over to her, bumping her forehead against hers gently. "It'll be a quick mission," she whispers. Catra hopes she's right.

*

Maybe it is a little fun at first. Candila is more of a tourist town than anything, their hot springs are said to rival Mystacor’s. They wait at a cafe for Glimmer and Bow, it's been a few years since they've seen them. 

Catra loves the way Adora looks in her new sunglasses, the way she smiles eagerly at Catra, like they’re on a vacation and not a mission, the way Adora absentmindedly puts her hand on Catra's knee. 

And then Glimmer and Bow arrive, and okay, maybe Catra did miss them, a lot. 

“It’s been too long, you guys,” Catra says as she hugs both of them.

"Definitely," Bow says, flashing her a grin. 

*

Catra can't stop herself from shaking. The Spirit Ember didn't even kill her, but finding Adora that day, so badly burned Catra saw bone, it’s scarring. It took almost an hour for Adora to start breathing again, that thought still makes Catra sick. 

"I'll be okay," Adora promises. "Bow will come with me, you and Glimmer will wait here. We'll be back before too long." 

Glimmer and Catra catch up to pass the time, but when Catra hears one set of footsteps instead of two, her heart sinks.

“Adora’s gone,” Bow says.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Glimmer asks.

Catra doesn't say anything, she just marches to the cavern. The Spirit Ember looms over her, like it knows it has the power to take away everyone she cares about. But it looks just like how she left it years ago, it’s covered in dust, not ash.

"Did the Spirit Ember go off?" Catra asks, running her fingers over the inauspicious crystal. 

"Something went off," Bow says. “But it wasn’t fire. It was bright, it knocked me out for a minute."

And then Catra finds it: a single footprint, larger than either Bow’s or Adora’s. It goes towards the back of the cavern.

There’s a tunnel.

"Catra, what does it mean?" Glimmer asks.

Catra narrows her eyes. “It means we were set up,” she says. “Someone knows about us, or at least, they know about Adora. The Spirit Ember was never active in the first place.”

Adora, present

When Catra didn't find her in the first twenty-four hours of being captured, Adora knew she was utterly screwed. 

So, she's been waiting.

When Prime asks her questions, she doesn't flinch. She had been surprised to find out that someone figured out her existence as She-Ra, but she supposes it was only a matter of time.

The strange thing is, he refers to Catra as the goddess C’yra, referencing her temples in D’riluth. The people of Halfmoon are still devoted to her, Prime says this to wound Adora, since She-Ra hasn’t been worshipped in centuries. Adora had never known Halfmoon was aware of Catra’s role in the war, and it shatters her to hear this news before Catra. Catra, who was always afraid she never did enough for her people, who let her guilt stop her from returning home.

Prime tries in vain to scare her, but he fails. His tests don't scare her. It's been ages since she died this rapidly (he drowns her, electrocutes her, sets her in water and then electrocutes her), measuring how long it takes for her to die, measuring how long it takes for her to come back. 

He refuses to provide her food at first either, thinking she doesn’t need to eat or drink. She explains to him that her body is still a body, and just like his, hers will die for good one day. 

"I'll die when it's my time," she says. She thinks about Catra, how worried she must be. She gives him a cold smile, and says, "But I can promise you, your time will be up much sooner." 

He stares at her grimly. He never gives her much of a reaction when she threatens his life, but she notices the twitch of his lip. 

*

When a guard walks by with four distinct claw marks on his face, Adora knows that Catra is here. When Catra doesn't find her, it dawns on Adora that Catra is in trouble. Probably in more trouble than she is, Prime is not a patient man, and Catra has little tolerance for theatrics.

And Adora is not a particularly patient person either. She has killed scarier men than Prime and will likely continue to do so. 

The next time a guard makes their way in, it takes everything in her, but Adora manages to break free.

All the hallways in Prime Industries look the same, there are no signs on any doors, but Adora can’t stop running. Only instinct drives her. She’ll find Catra. She’ll find her soon. She has to.

To her complete relief, she finds Glimmer and Catra in the same room.

“Is Bow here?” she asks.

Glimmer shakes her head. “We didn’t want to worry him.”

“And look how that turned out,” Catra says wryly, but she’s smiling. She’s okay.

They’re both okay. Adora leans over her, gently bumps her head against hers.

“Prime thinks we are enemies, my love,” Catra tells her in Eternian. 

Adora had forgotten that, realizing she had just gotten rid of that illusion, there’s no doubt he's watching them on camera right now. “I care not,” Adora replies. “He has kept me away from you for long enough."

"I was supposed to get you out," Catra murmurs. 

"Looks like I beat you to it," Adora says, winking at her. "You can save me next time."

"There had better not be a next time," Catra practically growls.

Adora kisses Catra quickly and frees her from her restraints.

*

When the three of them corner Prime in his main office, Catra gives her the honor of breaking his neck. Glimmer's the one who sets him on fire. Catra never takes her hand off Adora's waist.

It's night by the time they exit the burning building.

The stars glitter and Adora’s lungs welcome the fresh air.

Bow has been waiting outside of the facility for several hours, trying to come up with his own plan to get them out. He says he wasn't sure this was the correct location, until he heard the fire alarms going off. 

Adora can sense Glimmer's hesitation to reach for Bow, but he doesn't yell at Glimmer, he just holds her. 

Giving them space, she realizes that Catra is uncharacteristically quiet. "You okay?" she asks Catra, putting her hand on her shoulder.

Catra's eyes are striking and timeless. It doesn't matter that it's been centuries, Catra still has a way of making her shy.  

"I think I'm ready to go back to Halfmoon," Catra says. "Adora, I really want you to see it."

"You sure?" Adora asks. The two haven't discussed Halfmoon in years. 

Catra nods. “It’s been long enough,” she says.

"There's something I need to tell you, then," Adora says gently. "Prime knew who you were."

"He knew about all of us," Catra says, brow furrowed. "He'd been looking for us for years."

"No, Catra, he referred to you as C'yra. He said he saw a temple of yours in D'riluth, that they still worship you there." Catra's eyes widen, and she presses her head against Adora's shoulder. Adora’s been puzzled over C’yra’s meaning, all she could gather was that it’s old, that it’s a name. "What does C'yra mean?" she asks softly.

"It means protector," Catra answers. Adora's shirt is damp. "I didn't think—I didn't know they knew who I was, not like Eternia knew She-Ra."

“Of course they knew you,” Adora says, gingerly tilting Catra's head up. “You saved them. You’re the reason they never had to suffer through any runestone casualties.”

Catra blinks through her tears, smiling up at her. “You’ll come with me then? To Halfmoon?”

Adora kisses her. “I'd follow you anywhere.” It's a promise.