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One
Adora knows that when her mother is speaking with her, it’s polite to meet her gaze. To honor her genteel upbringing by showing her attentiveness. Yet Adora can’t bear to look her in the face.
Her mother pays her no mind, briefly touching her shoulder as she walks past Adora. "You look beautiful, dear. You did quite well with the suitor." Marlena continues talking but Adora is miles away. "Maybe we will hear early next week if they extend a proposal."
Adora bites her lip to keep from saying anything. Namely that she'd rather die than marry some man—especially that one. Kyle was nice enough, inoffensive in comparison to some of the other men who have come to court her. Still, he was clearly trying too hard. He and Adora have nothing in common, there was nothing for them to discuss. Every attempt at conversation fizzled out quickly. Whether it was because of Kyle’s nervousness or Adora’s disinterest, it’s hard to say.
And all of that is without considering what Adora has never given voice to, at least not with her family—that no man has ever caught her eye in the way they seem to with other girls. She’s only caught her breath and felt her eyes linger on those she’s not supposed to want.
“Adora?”
She freezes, plastering a smile on her face as she turns to her mother. “Sorry. The meeting took a lot out of me, I suppose.”
Her mother’s searching look quickly turns into an understanding one. “Of course.” She leans forward, placing a tender kiss on Adora’s forehead. “I’m very proud of you. I know you haven’t full warmed to the idea, but getting married will do the kingdom a world of good.”
Marlena’s hand softly grazes Adora’s cheek bones and then she takes a step back. With a quiet sigh she walks out, giving Adora the privacy she desperately craves.
The moment she’s alone, Adora rips the dress from her body. Only when it’s pooling at her feet does she feel like she can breathe. She doesn’t bother with carefully undoing everything that had been done to her this morning by an army of chambermaids.
She tugs on a pair of long pants and a shirt, quickly slipping into the more comfortable clothes. No one knows about the makeshift window that leads to the castle grounds—she’s sure if anyone remembered the abandoned exit, they’d quickly close it or place a guard before it. Anything to keep her inside and unharmed.
She doesn’t think twice before making her way through the warm wood floors of the palace to the cold cobble stone of the outdoors, and beyond, to the soft green grasses with weeds like wildflowers sprouting in the spring. How land could be so beautiful in the middle of a war, she could never guess.
Her feet carry her until she’s in a place she knows fairly well—a lake that she used to visit in the summers of her childhood with her brother. Adam and she would wander the edges of the lake, sometimes daring to jump into its murky depths before a guard caught wind of their hairbrained adventure.
Even though spring is beginning, the dirt feels cold beneath her feet. She can’t remember the last time she walked outside without anything separating her from the earth, with the feeling of grass on her toes. Likely the same time time she had to stop joining her brother for riding lessons in favor of more history lessons with her tutor.
She kneels by the side of the water, uncaring of whether she bruises her knees or stains her pants. Adora looks into the lake, and she doesn't recognize herself. Her reflection is alien—with her long golden hair swung over one shoulder and her lips painted red, her body barely feels her own. It belongs to her parents, or perhaps to the crown itself. Adora is glad she took off the dress before coming here.
While she’s alone, she can give herself the luxury of tears. She leans over the water, watching as the tears drip off her nose and ripple in the water.
Adora has always known it would come to this but—she can’t believe her parents are trying to matchmake for her in the height of the war. People are dying and starving, yet there’s time to fuss over suitable partners to marry her off. To make it so that she’s trapped in another box, another laundry list of things she must do and must be, all in the name of the kingdom.
Even times like today, when her mother feels happy with her ring hollow in the face of how miserable she feels. There’s no other path for Adora to take, only a stack of responsibilities that compound and belong solely to her.
One day, Adora will be a Queen, a wife, a mother. There’s nothing she can do to stop the inexorable march toward that end.
Two
"I've joined the army!” Adam’s grin is bright as he wrapped his arms around Adora, crushing her into a hug. “Mother and Father already approved it."
She blinks rapidly at her brother, her closest confidant. He’d asked her to get breakfast with him, but it isn’t an odd occurrence. She had no idea he was seriously considering enlisting. "That's—I'm happy for you." Adam is the person who best knows her. She doesn’t want him to leave her, but she knows she'd do the same thing in his position. She bites back the question she really wants to ask—when he made such a monumental decision and why Adora is the last to know. “When do you go?”
“First shipment tomorrow. I’ll be fully integrated into my initial training before the week is out.” He’s practically bouncing on his heels. “I’ll get to make a real difference out there.”
Adora bites her lip. “Of course, you will.”
He must hear something in her voice, because his burly form leans down and crushes her into a hug. “You do so much—you’re our future queen. But me? I’m just the spare. I can’t sit back and watch.”
“I don’t think I do all that much.” Adora lets out a short, harsh laugh. “No marriage proposal has come through, no matter how much mother and father desire it.” It’s strange to feel such an acute mix of relief and uselessness.
Adam grabs her shoulders and catches her gaze, blue eyes tied together in a moment of understanding. “You are more than just who you marry, Adora. You will lead our kingdom—hopefully into an era of peace and prosperity.”
She knows Adam means it to be comforting but she only feels the pit in her stomach widen. She hugs Adam tightly, hiding her face on his shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself, okay? If you die, I’ll kill you.”
Adam lets out a hearty laugh, the kind that makes his body shake like an earthquake. “I promise, I will be more than careful. Mother already made me promise a hundred times over.”
Adora nods. “I’ll be there to see you off tomorrow morning, alright?”
“Good. I’d be cross with you if you didn’t.” He shoves her a little, jostling her out of their embrace with a devious look on his face.
She laughs and shoves him right back. “Fine. I’m sure you have other things to do. Have you even packed?” A guilty look crosses Adam’s face and Adora shakes her head. “Go, before mother finds out.”
“Thanks, Adora!” He all but sprints out of the room, his hair bouncing in time with his steps.
Adora looks at the half-eaten meals they’d left on the table in the wake of the news. The more it sinks in, the less surprised she is by her brother’s decision. Adam has always been vocal about wanting to see the kingdom, of wanting to help. They’d both commiserated over being restricted to the castle since the war started, although Adam has been allowed on a few diplomatic missions.
Ultimately, her shock doesn’t stem from Adam’s desire to enlist—it’s from him receiving her parents blessing to do so. She’d never even contemplated this as a choice. It seemed obvious to her that they’d never allow either of them to fight for Eternia.
But if they let Adam go—maybe she could ask if she could go too? What would be the harm? For a moment, Adora allows herself to imagine it. She imagines walking amongst many people—her people—she would get to see her land. She could forget for a moment about husbands and being a docile, demure thing. She could be.
Without really thinking it through, her feet carried her to the throne room. She knows court must be long over, and it’s confirmed when the guards step out of her way and allow her in with little fuss.
Her parents are whispering to each other, smiling as they converse. Adora has always admired the way they have stood by each other. When she was younger, she dreamed of having a relationship like theirs—now, she thinks it might be impossible to hope for. They both turn to look at her, a tightness in their face as she marches up to them. She wonders if they think she is angry for not telling her about Adam’s departure.
"I wanted to discuss something with you.” Randor and Marlena share a look but gesture for Adora to continue. “I wish to do what Adam has done. I want to enlist too.” She blurts out quickly.
Randor clears his throat, leaning back into his chair. “Adora.” She knows from the moment that her name leaves his lips what he’s going to say. Her father only says her name like that when he looks to placate her, to let her down gently from yet another thing she can’t do.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Adam gets to go, but I don't.” She knows she sounds petulant and childish but right now she doesn’t care.
"Adam isn't the heir to the throne." Her father points out with a sigh. "Adora, you're a princess. The crown princess. You have to do what's right for your people."
“So? He can risk himself because of that?” Adora clenches her jaw. “You and mother are healthy and young. If something happened to me, Adam could take the throne when the time comes.”
“You aren’t trained to fight.” Marlena cuts in, grooves of worry etched in her forehead as she eyes Adora. “Your place is here, with us.”
“Adam doesn’t know how to fight either! Yet, he can go gallivanting off into the war? This isn’t right.” Her anger bubbles over inside her chest. It’s not just her brother’s enlistment—it’s everything, every bid for obedience and duty rolling in her gut. “Please, reconsider.”
Her father stands, chest puffed up and arms crossed over his chest. “There’s another reason, although it should be enough that your mother and I disapprove.” He sighs when Marlena reaches a calming hand out and brushes his arm. He apuses for a moment, holding himself still. “We received a letter. A marriage proposal has come through for you and your mother and I are inclined to approve it.” He has the decency to look away from Adora then. “We planned to tell you after Adam deployed.”
All the anger that lives inside her quiets like a whimper. In its place, her fingers shake and cold sweeps over her gut. “I—fine.” She doesn’t even have the stomach to ask who it is. She doesn’t want to know.
“Adora, this is for the best.” Her mother calls out, but Adora is halfway across the throne room already.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Her voice is hoarse with tears, and she hates that. She can hear her parents shuffling—perhaps her mother walking after her—but she walks faster. Once she’s out of the throne room, she runs down the hallways making it back to her room. She slams her door shut, leaning against it as she sobs into her hands.
She hates this role and how stifling it is. She hates the expectations placed upon her. And more than anything, she hates the thought of having to marry someone she can never love.
Adora thought she would be okay—she’s never truly crumbled under the pressure, only growing more resilient or so she thought—but she can’t do this. There’s no way she can marry under these circumstances.
She slides down until she’s sitting on the floor. Adora half expects to hear her mother’s quiet knock. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come to comfort Adora, to soothe the aches that rest in her heart and are borne of duty. But the longer she sits there, the more she realizes that no one is coming.
Adora sobs on the ground, her chest heaving as the hot tears roll down her cheeks. How can she feel this useless, this unable to take control of her own life when everyone tells her how powerful she is? How one day everything in Eternia will be as she wants it.
They’re all wrong. There’s no way for her to rule without denying parts of her—swaths of the fabric that make her who she is, a dark woven pattern that no one has yet to see.
Slowly, the anger trickles back in like the sands of time filling an hourglass. She can’t marry any man and Adora resolves that she won’t. She gets off the ground, walking toward her desk in the corner of her room. Adora quickly opens one of the wooden drawers, finding a dagger she keeps as a letter opener.
She goes to her vanity, hand trembling around the dagger as she looks at herself in the mirror. She grabs a handful of her hair, pulling it taut and before pressing the dagger against it. She imagines it would give her resistance, but it doesn’t—the hair floats to the ground, and with it, a weight is lifted off Adora’s shoulder.
She keeps cutting, shortening her hair until it’s shorter than Adam’s. She feels euphoric, staring herself in the mirror with a wide smile and tear streaks down her face. She’s sure to anyone else, she’d look unwell.
But she knows what she’s going to do. No one knows about the window that leads her to the castle grounds and without her hair, she’ll be difficult to spot.
For the first time in her life, Adora resolves to truly do what she wants.
Three
It’s been three days and it’s a miracle she’s not caught by any of the castle guards, or later the dispatched Eternian soldiers. She feels a swell of guilt when she thinks of the soldiers mobilized to find her when their focus should be on the war, but there’s nothing she can do to stop that now.
She walks on the edges of the forest, careful to remain unseen. So far, the few people who have run into her have not looked twice at her. She’s done her best to cover up her two most distinctive and well-known features—her long light hair and a birthmark in the shape of a mask that she bears on her shoulder. Some took the birth mark to be the blessing of She-ra on Eternia, while others thought it nothing but a coincidence—in either case, everyone knows of it.
Adora has to admit that she’s tired. She’s never walked for this long and remaining hyper vigilant is difficult. She’d had the presence of mind to grab enough supplies to last for a while, but if she doesn’t find a way to actually join the army then it’ll all be for nothing.
Adora continues thinking of her predicament and makes a critical error—she loses track of her surroundings. She trips on a loose rock and careens forward, falling onto the ground. She hisses when her forearms scrap against the hard ground. That’s going to bruise.
She hears footsteps and, in her panic, loses her footing again when she tries to stand and falls flat on her ass.
"Who are you?" Cuts in a low voice as the footsteps stop.
Adora looks up and her mouth runs dry. Before her stands a woman with a cocked hip, dark curls on her head, a slight frame, and a somewhat amused look. This woman is absolutely beautiful. So beautiful that Adora doesn’t recognize the uniform she wears for half a second. Once she does, she knows this is her opportunity.
Adora grips the strap of her rucksack tightly, still on the ground. "I'm—I'm looking to join the army." She tries her best to smile naturally. “I’m from a small town and there was no enlistment office. I seem to have gotten lost. Can you help me?”
There’s no way that Adora will be able to come up with anything better than lost and bumbling, because frankly, it’s what she is.
The woman regards her for a moment, eyes narrowing on Adora. It gives her a moment to realize her eyes aren’t the same color as far as Adora could tell—she’d need a closer look to be sure.
She seems to decide that Adora is mostly harmless, because she holds her hand out to Adora, pulling her onto her feet. “I could use another soldier. What’s your name?”
“Ad—Adam.” She stutters out her brother’s name, absolutely panicking. How had she not thought of a name? She’s going to get herself sent back to the castle in moments.
The woman quirks an eyebrow. “Adam? That’s what you’re going with?” Changing it now feels more suspicious, like she’s admitting to being a liar. Instead Adora nods. The woman lets out a little snort but doesn’t question her further. “Alright, soldier. Welcome to the Eternian army.”
She moves and Adora follows. “What’s your name?”
The woman glances back but never slows down. “My name is Catra Weaver. But for you, it’ll be Lieutenant. This is the sixty-seventh battalion.”
Adora doesn’t realize she’s right on the edge of their encampment until they walk a few more paces into the forest—no wonder someone hear her awkward fall. She feels eyes on her as she walks through the encampment, trying to stay close to Catra. She notices that all the other soldiers look at her in curiosity, but they look to Catra as a person of authority. She knows those looks well enough to recognize them anywhere, but it’s odd to not be on the receiving end of them. Freeing.
It’s a rush of tents and soldiers barking over each other as they move deeper into the encampment. Catra moves into a large tent but when Adora tries to enter, the guards at the door don’t let her pass. Before she can say anything—she’s not sure what she was going to say, but she’d think of something—Catra walks back out with a stack of things.
She keeps walking and Adora hurries to follow until they come into a smaller tent. Catra walks in and dumps the bag on top of a small cot. She turns around and it’s the first time Adora looks at her closely.
Catra points at the bag. “That has your standard issue uniform and everything else a recruit gets. I’ll give you some time to change and I’ll be back so we can finish setting you up.” She pauses for a moment, eyeing Adora knowingly again. “Normally, we do more paperwork but given that this isn’t an enlistment office and there’s a war to be won, I guess we can let it slide.”
Adora can’t believe her luck. This woman is the answer to all her prayers. “Thank you so much, Lieutenant. I promise not to let you down.”
Catra looks her up and down again with a curt nod. Adora does her best to keep her eyes on Catra’s face and not sneak glances back at her. She knows most women wouldn’t appreciate that, at Catra has been more than kind to her in the first fifteen minutes of knowing her.
“You have ten minutes. See that you’re ready by then.”
The moment Catra leaves the tent, Adora takes a deep breath and tries to control her fluttering heart. Although she’s thankful, it’s not fair that her savior must not only be an angel but look like one too. She shakes the thought from her head and hurries to open the large bag, carefully spreading out the things inside. It all looks to be the right size and she takes off the clothes she’d been wearing before trying on her uniform.
Even though she’s seen countless soldiers before, she's unfamiliar with these clothes on her body—she's never been allowed to wear trousers like these before. The few pants she had on hand were mostly sleepwear she stole from Adam. It's so different, the feeling of the rugged fabric rustling around her legs. She likes it. But what she likes even more is her leather chest plate, buried near the bottom of the bag.
Adora can't stop staring at the tiny mirror she was issued in her package. She turns to the side, looking at how flat her chest looks. With her hair cropped short and the figure she cuts in her armor, she almost looks like Adam. She feels better than she’s ever felt—she didn’t know there was a feeling like this out there.
Tears well in her eyes as she feels something shift in her chest. Maybe it's her heart slotting in the right place. She runs a hand through her short hair and lets out a watery laugh. This is who she's supposed to be—not a princess of dresses and rouged lips. She runs her hands through her cropped, uneven hair with a smile.
"Soldier, are you—"
Adora whips her head around, seeing Catra peeking her head into her tent. "I'm ready, Lieutenant." She tries to stand to attention, but she isn't sure she manages.
Catra cracks a smile. "It's okay to be excited about joining the war efforts."
"It's not that I—" She thinks about how to word it without giving away her identity. Adora's hand creeps up to where the leather is binding her chest.
Understanding dawns on the Lieutenant's face. "Ah. The armor suits you." The words don't say what Adora means but she somehow thinks that Catra understands. "I'll give you a moment before you have to report yourself." She gives her a comforting smile. "But only one moment, soldier."
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Four
She had no idea what she would be in for when she decided to leave the castle, but she can’t find even an ounce of regret hiding in her bones. Adora doesn’t have the benefit of the initial training, but she thinks she catches on quickly. By the third week, there are hardly any murmurs amongst the soldiers of orders in connection with finding the lost princess and Adora can breathe easier. Now, six weeks into her service, Adora feels happier than she ever has.
She’s slow to make many friends, but there’s another soldier named Perfuma who is kind to her and pairs up with Adora on training exercises. There are also so many small things she appreciates. She’s developed rough calluses on her hands that she runs her fingers over, delighting the texture. She feels stronger, her arms bigger even in this short amount of time and her ability to fight has improved immensely. One of the younger soldiers, Frosta, oversaw haircuts and she trimmed Adora’s hair to look more presentable. All of it makes Adora feel more like herself, even though it couldn’t be farther from the life she’s left behind.
And then, there’s Catra. The Lieutenant is always the brightest spot of Adora’s day whenever she gets a chance to see her. There’s no doubt that she’s besotted, but it feels like more than that. Everyone loves having Catra as their Lieutenant—she’s fair but tough. She offers the same mantra almost every time there’s a group address—her goal is for them to be successful and for as many soldiers as possible to survive the obstacles they are bound to face. She can be gruff but the thing about Catra is that she cares.
It would likely be enough for Catra to be kind, intelligent, witty, and funny for her to turn Adora’s head but she also makes it a point to spend time with Adora. At first, she’d said that she was helping Adora transition given that she had no training, but it’s been six weeks and Catra still makes time for Adora in her busy schedule. Adora hopes it always stays that way, fool that she is.
She and Catra spar at least twice a week and Adora always loses. It’s predictable but maddening for Adora, who is used to being good at most things she sets her mind to. Unlike at the castle, she doesn’t feel discouraged—if anything it makes her try harder. Some of that might be because it’s the time that she spends with Catra that the other soldiers don’t have.
Adora thinks she almost has Catra when she shifts her weight suddenly and shoves her hard. Adora falls flat on her ass, and she has no doubt that she looks almost identical to how she looked when Catra first found her on the edge of the woods. Catra laughs as Adora gets up and dusts herself off. “Would you please, take it easy on me?”
Catra shakes her head. “No way, soldier. The harder I go on you, the more likely you are to stay alive.” Her smile dims a little at the reminder of what might happen, but she doesn’t let it fall off her face.
“How did you get to be so good?” Adora can’t help but ask. Catra is older than the typically newly enlisted, but not by much. It doesn’t make sense for someone as talented as her to end up head of a fresh, young battalion that hasn’t been assigned any serious missions since Adora got here.
She freezes, her face guarded in a way that Adora hasn’t seen since the first time she saw Catra. As if she was assessing Adora as a threat. For a moment, Adora worries that the question somehow gave away something about Adora’s identity, but Catra’s face softens.
"I used to be a Friend of Mara." She says lowly, eyes darting around looking for anyone who might overhear her.
Adora’s eyebrows furrow. That explanation makes no sense. "Those are the most talented soldiers there are... how did you end up leading this battalion?"
The Friends of Mara were an elite group of soldiers, and it was incredibly competitive and secretive. Adora was also under the impression that it was only open to men. If that rule had changed since the last time she studied the military structure, then she’s glad for it. Still, being here compared to being a Friend of Mara is a significant downgrade.
"They didn't like having a woman amongst their ranks.” Catra responds in a clipped voice.
Adora feels more lost than ever. "But you were a woman when you joined them...?"
Catra gives her a rueful smile. "I wasn't always seen that way. As a woman."
It takes a moment for it to hit Adora. "Oh." Catra—she knows what it’s like, to feel her body isn’t her own, just differently from Adora. She remembers how quickly Catra recognized that piece of Adora, almost before Adora did. “I—I didn’t know.”
She shrugs a little. “Not many people do. It’s not something I share with everyone.” Her lips are pressed into a tight line and she’s studying Adora’s face—for a reaction, she supposes.
It’s easy for Adora to smile, to try to tell Catra with her eyes that she understands. “Thank you for sharing with me.” She bites her lip. “That’s still really impressive—and they were fools to let you go.”
Catra fully relaxes now before she shoves her hands in her pockets. “I was angry at first, but I quite like where I am now.” She gives Adora a look she can’t decipher. “I think that’ll be the end of today’s sparring. I have to do some of the inventory later tonight.”
“I can help you with that, if you want.” Adora offers before clamping her lips together and feeling blood rush to her face. She could help and wants to help Catra—Adora has a head for numbers and she’s more than capable of reviewing an inventory report—but she’d essentially invited herself to Catra’s tent at night.
Catra looks at her, still a little out of breath, a curl or two matted on her face. Gods, she looks so good. Adora the princess couldn’t be with a woman because she needed an heir. But now, as a soldier, could she allow herself to have more than everything she’s already gained? She wants to—so badly.
“I’ll let you know if I need the help. Thank you.” Catra graciously bows, a warm smile on her face. “Good match.”
Adora shakes her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I wasn’t good but thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You’re improving and that’s what matters.” Catra’s brow furrows as she looks at the sun starting to lower on the horizon. “I have a few things to do before nightfall. I’ll see you later.”
Adora watches Catra go and wonders if she means later tonight or tomorrow. It’s an odd day where she doesn’t see Catra somewhere—she learned quickly that her tent was close to Catra’s meaning that the chances of running into her as she went about her day were high.
She sighs as Catra falls out of sight. Adora looks around, eyeing the creek near the encampment—the only source of water large enough to bathe. Bathing is the riskiest part of the life Adora has cobbled together. If someone saw her birthmark and recognized it, there would be no going back.
She passes through her tent and picks up some clothes before walking far enough that she can’t hear the commotion from their encampment. Adora quickly strips down and enters the dark waters, soap in hand. She feels odd now when she’s naked, her breasts hanging on her body. In the water it’s better because she doesn’t see them or feel their weight as much.
She goes through the motions, scrubbing her legs underwater and her torso. She dips her head under the water enjoying the crisp coolness it provides. If she misses anything from the castle, it was her warm baths. She remembers when the chambermaids would wash her long hair, placing scented oils at the root and her temples after it was clean.
Her heart pangs as she thinks of her family. She knows that they have to be worried sick, but they’ll never understand what she’s done. And now that Adora has had a taste of freedom, she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to go back. Before, she could only imagine what life might look like. It was easier to tolerate all the things she endured because she didn’t know better.
Now, there’s so much she relishes in she could never have in the castle. She’s discovered parts of who she is—here, she can be true to those pieces of her. Adora wishes to learn more, and the more she learns, the less she’ll fit in with those antiquated roles that wait for her in the castle.
The resolve she feels to never go back to her life as a princess doesn’t make her miss her family any less. She wishes there was a way to let them know she was alright without ruining everything.
“You’re going to drown if you stay that long underwater again.”
Adora lets out a light shriek before hearing a peal of laughter she instantly recognizes. While Adora was ruminating, she must have come into the creek.
“Lieutenant! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”
Catra lets out a laugh. “It’s not like I expect you to stand to attention while bathing. Relax.” She tips her head back, wets her hair. It’s a lot longer than Adora imagined now that’s wet.
Adora had never thought of Catra, naked and wet before—at least not in a creek. Beyond desperately trying to keep her eyes off her commanding officer, she can almost feel her birthmark burning at her back. She dips lower in the water, praying to any god that’ll listen that Catra doesn’t see it.
Catra purses her lips when she looks back at Adora’s tight features. "Do I make you uncomfortable?" Her voice lowered and she took a step back in the water. “I thought—is this about earlier?”
The blood drains from Adora’s face as she realizes what Catra thinks. "No! Heavens no!" Adora fumbles for an excuse as to why she wouldn't want Catra to bathe in the creek with her. "I just—feel self-conscious for myself."
Her expression clears for a moment before becoming contrite. "If you wish for me to leave, I can."
It's what Adora should do but she can’t, not now. She doesn’t want, even for a moment, Catra to think that Adora sees Catra differently because she knows more now. “No, please don’t. Really—it has everything to do with me and you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Catra studies her face for a short moment, truly making sure that Adora is okay. Then, she lets a devastating smirk cross her lips. “I’m sure you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She knows it’s likely good-natured teasing but the blood rushes to her face anyway. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
The bath doesn’t take very long—they are in a cold creek—but anytime that Adora feels Catra’s eyes on her, it’s electric. She both longs for her to come closer, to perhaps press her fingers under Adora’s chin and pull her close or bring their bodies flush together.
She makes sure to trail slightly behind Catra when they exit, and she throws her shirt on while still sopping wet. She notices Catra raise a quizzical eyebrow but her face fills with understanding when she notices Adora’s arms crossed over her chest. Adora lets her assume the wrong thing.
They don’t agree to walk back to the encampment together, but it happens anyway. Catra gives her a soft smile before turning back to her own tent, and it makes her heart clench.
When she lays in her cot she sighs, thinking of the Lieutenant. She thinks of a reality where she could gather the courage to reach out and hold her hand, sneaks her into her tent. She imagines lying next to Catra. Maybe getting to hold her. Kiss her. She thinks of Catra touching her in return—kisses her lips then trailing down her neck, but not down to her chest and—
The reality crashes down on her. She’ll never have that because she can’t let Catra get that close and accidentally see her birthmark. As much as she’d like to be with Catra—as much as her heart yearns to cross that line of propriety—she can’t. Not without destroying the life she has here.
Five
What ultimately gets her discovered is laughable—she gets wounded in her first fight. Not enough to be life threatening, but enough that she couldn’t avoid a medic bandaging her side. She knew the moment the medic’s face turned white that she was done for.
Within five minutes, there were guards at her tent keeping her prisoner and in thirty minutes she could hear the whispers like a storm outside, shadows crossing the canvas material every few seconds. The wound is nothing—not compared to the way her stomach is in knots. She’d begged the medic to keep quiet, but she just shook her head and told some lie about needing more antiseptic.
She’s facing away from the tent when it happens—she recognizes the stride of Catra’s boots as she walks into the tent.
"You—let me see your back." Catra's voice carries anger that's beyond that of a commanding officer upset with their underlying. It reeks of betrayal.
Adora looks down, her lips trembling. She doesn't lift her gaze as she slowly pulls the back of her shirt low enough that Catra can see her shoulder blade. Adora knows she'll find all the confirmation she needs there.
"You're the princess. Princess Adora." Her words are rough and biting. She takes in a deep shuddering breath. "How could I have been so stupid—"
"No!" She blurts out. “I—”
“I know there was something off when I saw you in the forest that first day. That you were running from something—it was obvious. But I didn’t question it. I trusted you.”
Adora turns to face her, wincing at the wound on her side. "I'm sorry." She calls miserably.
It's the first good look at Catra she's gotten since the brunette walked into her tent. Catra is gripping her helmet so tightly between her hands that Adora thinks it might shatter, her knuckles white. But it's her eyes that'll haunt Adora—she knows it. Her split eyes are a mixture of resentment and betrayal, her mouth a sneer in disgust.
"Princess Adora." She says coldly. It makes Adora's skin crawl. "I'll send a missive to your parents right away that the lost princess has been found. You'll be sent back to the castle as soon as possible."
Adora tries to sit up but hisses as she does so. "Catra, please. Listen to me. Please, don’t make—"
Catra holds up a hand. "Lieutenant Catra Weaver of the Eternian Army." She corrects stiffly. "And you know as well as I do that my duty lies with your parents. I'm under strict orders to return you and I shall." Anger colors every inch of her face again. "And I'm glad for it."
Adora holds in a sob. "Lieutenant. Please." She was taught princess don't beg but she doesn't quite care—she's not really a princess and she'd do anything to keep Catra. "I know I lied but you have to see that—"
"I don't wish to discuss this with you." She shakes her head. "Goodbye, Princess." Catra doesn’t look back before she leaves.
Adora cries as Catra leaves and she doesn’t think her tears stop running until she’s already back in the castle, in the last place she wishes to be.
And One
Adora walks in the courtyard, watching as the fall leaves tumble down onto the ground. It is her favorite season in Eternia. She doesn’t know how long she’s enjoying the weather before she hears someone clear their throat behind her. She turns and her eyes widen in disbelief.
"Catra." She breathes out.
It’s the Lieutenant in the flesh. She looks dapper in a ceremonial outfit that Adora has only ever seen on the naval officers that come to seek a new commission. Adora hasn’t seen Catra since the fateful day she was returned to the castle, nearly five months ago and well before the recent end of the war.
The brunette doesn't look upset like last time, instead giving her a shy grin. "Your Majesty." She offers with a bow.
Adora is so shocked by Catra’s presence she blurts out the first thing on her mind. "You're probably the last person I'd think to see here." She’s honestly unsure it isn’t a mirage—she thinks of Catra enough for her to have them.
Catra winces, one of her hands touching the back of her neck. "I can imagine why."
"Listen, Lieutenant—"
"Please, your Majesty, I—"
They both stop and look at each other, before a soft laugh slips their lips at the way they both hurriedly talked over each other.
"You know, it's your grace now."
Catra's head snaps up. "Why?"
"You can't tell anyone yet, but I've renounced my title. My brother will be crown prince now." She sighs. Adora had been trying her best to reconcile her decision with how she feels. "I can't be the person—the woman they would need to be to be queen."
Returning to the castle was difficult, but not in the way it was before Adora left. She simply decided she couldn’t give up on the self she found when she left home. She kept her trousers, her training, her desire to help and contribute. She’d confessed to her parents that she could only ever love a woman—she already knew which one, but she kept that to herself given how fruitless and one sided her love is. She confessed that she didn’t see herself as a woman.
Surprisingly, her parents agreed to all of it. She’s not sure if they were always this supportive or if thinking she was dead for close to three months softened their heart, but they allowed her to do what she wished. She is still helping in governance, but now she doesn’t have to be the prim rose of femininity that never fit her.
Adora might be unfit for the crown, but she’s decided that she’s okay with failing at that. She never thought she would be, but it means more to have a grip on who she is than on the perfect image of queen.
Catra looks at her for a moment before nodding and smiling. "You're following your heart." She says simply.
Adora bites her lip. If she were really following her heart, it'd lead her straight to the warrior in front of her. She's not sure she feels quite that brave. "Something like that." She allows.
"That's good then. If Eternia can't have you as yourself, then it doesn't deserve you at all."
"Thank you, Catra." She smiles brightly. Adora never expected to see her again, and whenever she allowed herself to imagine it outside of a daydream, she always thought she'd get a cold reception. "What are you doing here?"
"Ah. That." She looks almost nervous as she clasps her hands together. "I was in the battle at the border."
"Really? Catra, that's amazing! You weren't hurt, were you?" The battle was bloody but instrumental to ending the war. She gives the woman a once over, as she shakes her head.
"Not at all. Everything went well.” She clasps her hands together and she almost looks shy. “Your mother is bestowing a medal on me today."
Adora’s grin splits her face. "I'm so proud of you."
Underneath her tan, Catra seems to be blushing. "Thank you, your grace."
"It's Adora." Before she’d been discovered, she’d longed to hear Catra say her name. When she finally heard it, cold and angry, it felt like a sick joke from destiny. She wishes to hear it anew, not in anger or hurt but instead with some familiarity. Something she can hold in her heart after Catra leaves.
Her lips twitch into a smile. "So many mixed signals."
"It's always Adora for you."
Catra's face softens, and she takes a step closer. "Adora." Catra whispers, and it’s everything she’d wished to hear and more. "The medal is what granted me entrance to the palace, but it isn't why I came here."
Her eyes search Adora’s face and she’s helpless beneath them, taking her own step forward. "Then why?"
"I wanted to see you. I—I'm sorry for the way I reacted the last time we saw each other. I want to apologize."
Adora shakes her head. She lied to Catra, let her take her in knowing that everyone would be looking for her. Catra had every right to be angry. "No, Catra—"
The Lieutenant holds her hand up almost in a gesture of surrender. "Please let me say my piece." Adora nods, gesturing with her hand for Catra to continue. The brunette sighs. "I thought about how we left things. I was blindsided when I realized who you were. But the more time that passed, the more I realized that you likely weren't trying to mislead me as much as you wished to remain undiscovered." She runs a hand through her wild curls, and Adora's hand twitches by her side, longing to touch them too. Catra looks up at her, eyes searching. "Did you feel like there was something there between us? Because for me, there was."
"You—friendship?" Adora clarifies quickly, lest she makes a fool of herself.
Catra shakes her head slowly. "No. Love." She bites her lip. "It's why I reacted so poorly. I thought that you and I—” She shakes her head, as if the idea is a silly notion. “—and then I felt betrayed. I never could have imagined I was harboring the lost princess." She takes a sharp breath through her nose. "So, I owe you an apology."
"An apology." Adora echoes, eyes wide as she takes in Catra.
"Yes. I shouldn't have treated you so poorly. I should have listened to your side." She gives Adora another apologetic look. “I don’t think I could have changed the ultimate outcome, but I don’t wish for the last words you hear from me to be those of anger. I’m so sorry, Adora.”
"I knew you'd be upset. I wanted to be honest with you, Catra." She reaches out, grabbing Catra’s hand. It’s callused yet soft and it feels better than Adora imagined. "I wanted to be closer to you. You didn’t imagine it. What we had." She squeezes the brunette's hand. "It was the same for me." She admits quietly.
Catra’s lips are slightly parted her eyes wide as she takes Adora in. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Adora’s heart thuds in her chest and she refuses to let go of Catra’s hand. “I know time has passed and things are different now but—do you still feel the same?”
She watches as Catra nods and swallows thickly. “I’ve never stopped dreaming of you.”
It’s all Adora needs before she holds Catra’s other hand, pulling her so that their foreheads press together. “Good, because I love you.” She feels Catra’s sharp inhale as it tickles her cheek. “And if you wished to be together, there’s nothing that would keep me from you.”
“Are you sure? You shouldn’t say such things lightly.” Catra’s voice aims for levity but it wobbles with tears.
“More than anything, Catra.”
She feels Catra’s hand raise up to her cheek and she pulls her into a soft kiss. Adora lets her hand creep back into Catra’s hair pulling her closer. Her heart is beating in her ears and her blood sings, begging her to get closer and to take more from Catra, to give more to her. Nothing had ever felt more right.
When the kiss breaks, Adora takes a deep breath. They are wrapped in each other’s arms and Catra looks at her so fondly she thinks she could cry.
“Let me take you to the throne room for your ceremony.” Adora whispers, refusing to stop sharing the same air as Catra.
Catra grins, her eyebrow raised. “Isn’t it a little too soon to start meeting your parents?”
“Not at all, I’m going to parade you before them the moment the ceremony is over.”
Her eyes dim a little, her lips slightly pursed. “They won’t be upset?”
Adora kisses the furrow on her brow. “No. And if they are, they’ll have to learn to accept it.” She says it easily.
Perhaps these things happen for a reason. If she’d met Catra under other circumstances, she’d be terrified, searching for her parents’ approval. Since she’s already advocated for herself, it’s that much easier to fight for her love with Catra.
Now, not only can she be her true self, but she also gets to share it with Catra. Adora would be willing to fight any war for that.
Catra kisses her temple. “Lead the way, princess.” It’s teasing and Adora finds that she likes it.