Archive of Our Own

At the end as at the start, and through all the in-betweens, I love you.
—Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose The Time War

It was Adora who'd decided that their curtains would be blue. Not just any kind of blue, though, but a particular shade of turquoise she'd spent some time looking for in the market in Erelandia, Catra tagging along sluggishly in the summer heat.

"This is perfect," Adora said as she unrolled the swath of cloth. It was a lovely light blue, with a gossamer quality to it like running water—something Catra could appreciate enough from afar.

Later on, Catra would discover just how little the curtains actually did to block out light in the mornings. It was almost as bad as in Bright Moon, when Adora would always stir awake at the first smudge of pink through the open window, except now the brightness simply bled through the thin fabric. And when Adora woke, Catra would, too, grumbling about her lack of sleep but secretly pleased by the promise of another full day to spend by Adora's side.

"Finally." Catra hopped down from the table she'd been perched on and slinked towards Adora, her tail swishing boldly behind her.

"What do you think, Catra?"

"Honestly?" She leaned into Adora's side as her tail slowly came up to circle her waist. "Anything that gives us even a little bit of privacy is perfect for me." 

Adora smirked at her knowingly. "Oh, I know."

They'd talked about it all the way back: no more open windows, no more sparkly queens popping in unannounced at random hours of the day. (Of course, Glimmer was free to visit whenever she wanted, so long as she remembered to knock.) Sure, there was still a lot to be done: their kitchen was nearly empty, and Catra was seriously considering Perfuma's suggestion of setting up a garden so they could grow their own fruits and vegetables. And then there was the whole matter of asking Mermista for help in figuring out the tricky plumbing.

Even then, as they crested the hill and caught sight of the cottage nestled into the embrace of the valley, Catra's heart soared with the promise of going home.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but days like these really make me miss rebuilding."

Silence, save for the steady hiss of oxygen as it filled up the airlock. Three pairs of eyes blinked at her through varying shades of tinted glass.

Cabin pressurized, came Darla's voice.

The hatch clicked open, and Catra, nearly pouncing through it, wrangled her helmet off as quickly as she could. Several years into their tenure as intergalactic diplomats, the routine had become second nature to her, but from time to time she still caught her friends giggling as she tried to extricate her ears from the cursed thing.

But today she was spared from the teasing, because Glimmer, seething, had torn her helmet off first.

"I can't believe them!" she spat. "What do they think we are, some kind of interplanetary monarchy?"

Adora winced. "I mean, you have been introducing yourself as Queen Glimmer—"

"Of Bright Moon, not the fucking universe!" She whirled around and began stomping away—not towards the command room, or her room, but the kitchen, which practically signaled a blaring 10/10 on the Glimmer Stress Scale. The last time Glimmer was upset enough to take out her anger on cake batter, their oven caught fire.

Bow shot a pleading look at Catra and Adora. "Can one of you get Entrapta? Or at least, you know, warn her of what's happening?"

"I'm here!" yelled a high-pitched voice from the kitchen. "Glimmer's making whoopie pies—tiny ones!"

Catra had no idea what whoopie pies were, but she was content to sit on the kitchen counter and watch Glimmer whip up a hurricane until Adora came up to her with a spoon of icing.

"Try this for me?"

Catra hummed, gesturing for Adora to come closer. Adora rolled her eyes fondly, but raised the spoon to Catra's lips anyway. The icing was surprisingly light, and Catra was delighted to find it just the right amount of sweet when it melted on her tongue.

"Did you mean it?" Adora asked, a non sequitur. "When you said you missed rebuilding."

"Ah, so you did hear me."

"Yeah." She was leaning next to her so they were pressed together arm-to-arm, watching Glimmer furiously whisk the chocolate cake mix and Bow hover around her helplessly, but there was a faraway look in her eyes. "I just thought about it, and… I guess I also miss it. Etheria, too. Having solid ground underneath my feet."

Catra hummed in assent. "I mean, we've been jumping around space playing diplomats for what, ten years, now?"

She thought of Melog, who had finally returned to Krytis with their new mate, a fellow Krytinian who had moved to the Chonos system before Horde Prime's invasion. As much as she missed them, she'd also felt the relief of them finally being able to return to their home planet and start anew.

"I know, right!" Glimmer cut in suddenly. "We've restored magic to the known universe. We founded a coalition, for goodness' sake. What more could they want from us?"

"Careful with the whisk, Glimmer," said Bow. "Well, I guess we are pretty good at what we do."

"But don't you think we've done enough?" Glimmer wrung her hands. Catra imagined sparkles emanating from them, a sight she hadn't seen since they'd left the last planetary system. Space was hard on all of them, but it took its toll on Glimmer most of all, who had practically given up access to magic to ensure that others could have it. "I thought, that after designing the stations, we'd finally be done with it…"

The stations had been hers and Glimmer's idea. They'd taken inspiration from the Moonstone—Glimmer's original source of power, which a young Force Captain Catra once sought to destroy—and asked Bow and Entrapta to develop an artificial version that could siphon magic from natural satellites. The goal was to set one up in each planetary system as a place to rest and refuel when the natural magic supply of the planets was out of reach. She-Ra had been the one to build the first station: a port just a ways away from Krytis that siphoned magic from one of its six abandoned moons.

"Who says we can't be done with it?" Adora suddenly blurted.

Every head in the room swiveled towards her in shock.

"I mean, obviously we're not going to abandon the project completely," Adora explained, flustered. "But we've got the coalition, and people in each planetary system we can trust to oversee the construction of their respective stations, so as long as we maintain periodic communication, I don't see why we can't… go home."

Home. We're going home.

There was a clang as Glimmer finally set down her whisk on the counter and walked up to Adora. Taking her hands, she said, "Of course we can go home."

"Really?" Adora's voice was almost brittle with hope. "I mean, if you need someone to man the coalition for a bit more, I'm sure…" Her gaze moved to Catra, who sat stiffly in place. "I'm sure we can ask Starla to handle it."

Catra exhaled, feeling the tension bleed out of her body with it. "Starla's great, yeah."

Adora raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"You literally suggested it, idiot, don't be jealous."

"You two are ridiculous," Glimmer announced, but she was smiling all the same. A second later, Bow came up behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder, and Glimmer immediately melted into his touch. For an interminable moment, the four of them simply stood there grinning stupidly at one other, giddy with the promise of a homecoming long overdue.

"Starla says yes, by the way."

They all turned to Entrapta, who was perched on the kitchen table holding up her communication pad. Starla beamed up at them through the screen, as fresh-faced and curious as ever.

"So, what I'm hearing is that you're going into retirement?"

Out of all the things Catra has accomplished in her life thus far—including, but not limited to, founding an interplanetary coalition, rebuilding Etheria, and saving the universe with a kiss—maintaining a garden for nearly thirty years might just be one of her personal favorites.

It's funny, because the first time Perfuma had suggested gardening of all things to occupy her time, Catra had practically laughed in her face. (She'd apologized after Perfuma directly and unabashedly chewed her out. She'd been trying to be a better friend, after all.) Now she spends most of her mornings watering her peace lilies, of all things, because she's accepted that her life can sometimes be a cosmic joke. The vegetables and herbs she mostly leaves to Adora, essential as they are to her cooking. But the rest of the flowers bloom under Catra's care, with the exception of a pot of begonias Adora had gotten from Plumeria a couple of years ago.

Today, though, she finds Adora crouched over a bed of newly-flowered blossoms, staring at them with a rather clouded look in her eyes.

"Ooooh," Catra drops down next to her and brushes one of the small blue flowers with her finger. "Look at that. My babies have finally bloomed."

Adora's brows are knit together in that well-worn way. Catra used to tease her all the time about getting premature wrinkles—predictably, she'd been the first to gain them. Even Glimmer, who used to scowl even more than Catra in the heyday of her queendom, still had relatively smooth skin, though Catra supposes it comes with being the daughter of an immortal deity.

"What are they? I don't remember planting them."

"Getting old, aren't you?" Catra teases.

"It's not like you're any younger," grumbles Adora.

"But I didn't suffer consistent brain damage as a kid from keeping my forehead exposed all the time." Catra teases, rapping her knuckles lightly against the creased skin there. Today, Adora is wearing her hair in a low bun, and a couple of grey strands hang loosely around her face. She looks gorgeous.

Adora hums, too used to Catra's ribbing to react to the jab. "So when did we plant them?"

"Midsummer last year," Catra answers. She plucks one of the clusters and tucks it behind Adora's ear. It almost matches the color of her eyes. "They're forget-me-nots."

"Oh." Adora's hand reaches up to touch the flowers, her fingers delicate as a petal. Without turning away from Catra, she says, "They're beautiful."

Catra smiles and leans over to press a soft kiss to the lines on Adora's forehead. "Aren't they?"

Adora continues to look at her intently, until a breeze picks up from the hills and blows the flowers in her hair away.

They built their house together, brick-by-brick, in the lush heart of the valley, underneath the endless sky.

Out here the land seemed to stretch into the horizon, and the stars shone so brightly that if Catra looked up it was almost as if she was back in space again, tethered only by the firm grip of Adora's hand in hers. They spent many nights like that, lying side-by-side on the unfinished second floor balcony, because Catra had never really gotten over her habit of climbing to the tallest part of any building, even if that building was only really two stories tall and still lacked a roof.

"You're really good at this," Adora told her one evening as she emerged from the staircase, balancing a tray in one hand. The hearty smell of salmon and herb cream made Catra finally sit up and accept the bowl of food that Adora brought her.

She took a long, hearty sip. The soup was only almost as warm as the smile on Adora's face.

"I'm good at a lot of things," Catra said loftily as she lowered the bowl. "You might just be a bit better at cooking than me, though."

"You're only saying that because you want me to cook for you."

Delighted, she watched Adora's gaze drop to her mouth as her tongue flicked out to lick at the cream coating her upper lip. "Don't you?"

"I do," Adora answered, with nothing but sincerity in her voice. Catra knew she enjoyed it—anything that had to do with detailed lists and keeping her hands busy was always good for Adora—but to have her admit it directly still made her blush. "Anything for you."

"Sap. Go on, keep complimenting me while you're at it."

Adora laughed as she settled down beside her, running a hand over the wooden planks Catra had laid out just earlier in the day. Tomorrow, they would finally put a railing on the balcony. Catra knew she'd end up perching on it instead, what with it being higher than the floor they were sitting on now. The roof would follow soon after, and with that, the two of them would finally be able to stay the night.

"Building something new," she said, pillowing her head on Catra's shoulder. "You're really good at it."

Catra, who had been a weapon of destruction her entire childhood, who had razed villages to the ground and painstakingly built them back up again, could do nothing else but cry.

Adora had forgotten to harvest the vegetables again today, so Catra decides to make a quick trip to the nearest market in Thaymor. This late in the afternoon, the village is just beginning to come alive again for the evening, and it only takes a moment of walking around the perimeter for Catra to realize that a party is in the making.

One of the villagers spots her first, a lanky teenage satyr with about a foot on Catra. They gawk at her for a split second before dropping into a low bow.

"Catra," they say, sounding almost breathless with awe. "It is an honor to have you here."

"Oh—er—" Catra waves her hand sheepishly. "It's nice to be here, too, but I'm really just going to drop by the market."

The satyr straightens immediately. "Then, may I guide you there?"

An amused smile tugs at Catra's lips. "If you insist."

Buoyed by her acceptance, the satyr leads her through the village with their head held high, drawing more and more of the townsfolk to come and greet her. No one stops them, though, until they encounter an even taller woman with antlers that Catra recognizes as the former village elder's daughter.

"Greetings, Catra." Her voice, in spite of its low, rich quality, carries a sort of lightness. "On behalf of the Council of Elders, I welcome you to Thaymor."

"I remember you," Catra says. "Agathe, right? Your mother was the former Head."

"Indeed," Agathe's expression softens at the recollection. "She always spoke of you with the utmost respect. In fact, the festival we are celebrating today is also in your honor. The forty-first anniversary of the rebuilding of Thaymor."

"Been that long, huh?" Catra whistles, unable to help herself. "I mean, wow, thanks. It's an honor."

"Well, I am an Elder now." Humor sparkles in Agathe's eyes. "So, what brings you to Thaymor after all this time? Surely such an event isn't on your social calendar?"

"Now you're just making me feel bad," Catra huffs, earning a cackle from Agathe. "Honestly, I was just here to grab vegetables since my wife forgot to harvest the ones we were going to have for dinner tonight."

"Of course. The mighty She-Ra. Please send her our warmest regards." Agathe clasps her hands together and turns to Catra's right. "Orgel?"

The teenage satyr perks up immediately beside her. "Yes, O Wise One?"

"Would you do us a favor and accompany our esteemed guest? I'm sure the townsfolk will have a lot to offer her."

"It would be my pleasure, O Wise One."

An hour later, Catra finds herself not only with an handful of fresh crops, but also baskets of baked breads and cakes, which the young satyr had insisted on helping her carry home.

"Thanks for coming all this way," Catra tells them once they finally reach the doorstep.

"Of course," Orgel says. Catra watches their gaze sweep over their surroundings one last time: the wooden front porch with its draping vines and flowers, the garden with its overripe tomatoes and beets still peeking up from the soil, the valley beyond awash in the golden light of the setting moon. "This is a beautiful place."

"Isn't it?" Catra says, pleased. "You're welcome to join us for dinner, if you want."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to intrude. Besides, I'd rather get back before nightfall."

After Catra waves them goodbye, she gathers the baskets of food in her arms and knocks twice, firmly, on the front door.

"Hey, Adora? I'm home."

A few beats of silence, before her ears pick up the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

"Catra? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

The door creaks open to reveal Adora, silhouetted in the dim light of the hallway. "Where did you go?"

"To Thaymor, remember? I brought food for dinner."

"Oh." The door opens wider. There's a blanket thrown over Adora's shoulders, and her silver hair is tied up in a ponytail. Catra notes the attempt at a poof and nearly chuckles, but the tight expression on Adora's face stops her. "But… Thaymor…"

"It's alright, Adora," Catra reassures her, wondering what memory sits at the forefront of her mind now. "Agathe and the Council of Elders send their regards. And a lot of food, too. I've got a bunch of those pink fish-shaped cakes you really like, remember?"

There is no recognition in Adora's eyes, but she smiles anyway. "Take me with you next time."

"Alright," Catra says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Adora's forehead.

They linger in the open doorway until Catra begins to shiver. Adora gently gathers her into her arms and closes the door.

Their housewarming party was a lively affair, with every princess in Etheria and member of the Rebellion showing up at their doorstep.

It didn't take long for them to give up on squeezing everyone inside—their house hadn't been built to host the entire Princess Alliance, after all, and Scorpia had taken it upon herself to herd them all out after accidentally knocking over the ice sculpture Frosta had brought to christen their living room.

Once the house had been successfully vacated, Scorpia pulled Catra aside, her face sagging with guilt. "Gosh, Catra, I'm really so terribly sorry—"

"It's all good, Scorpia," Catra reassured her. "The thing was going to melt anyway."

They both glanced at Frosta, who was in the middle of building an even bigger statue of Catra and Adora next to their garden. Evidently, space wasn't a problem anymore when they had the whole valley as their backyard.

Scorpia winced. "That much water can't be any good for your plants when it melts," she whispered, in a valiant but futile effort to keep her voice low. "Perfuma might have to go and have a word with her."

"Oh, thank god," Catra sighed. "I was not looking forward to that conversation."

"I'm sure 'Fuma can handle it," Scorpia said proudly, with that dopey smile on her face she always got whenever she talked about her girlfriend. Catra would've loved to tease her, if only she wasn't painfully aware of how she looked whenever Adora crossed her mind.

Even now, she felt the lines of her body soften the moment she caught sight of Adora in the crowd, deep in conversation as she was with Double Trouble, of all people. Her hair was styled in that half-updo she'd sported during Scorpia's ball, the rest of it falling loose around her bare shoulders. She looked absolutely regal, though there was an air of relaxation about her as well, almost as if a significant weight had been taken off her shoulders.

Scorpia, who'd followed Catra's extremely unsubtle gaze, asked, "Everything good with Adora and the house?"

"Yeah," Catra said, and was pleased to find that she meant it. "Yeah, everything's going great. I mean"—here she elbowed Scorpia lightly, smirking—"Perfuma even complimented our garden."

"I'm glad, Wildcat," said Scorpia, returning Catra's gesture with a friendly, warm squeeze. "If there's anyone who deserves a break, it's you two. I mean, you guys literally saved the universe with the power of love."

She sniffled, and Catra was astounded to find her actually wiping a tear from her eye. "Gosh, it's just so—so very—romantic. And now you two can finally live the rest of your days in peace…"

Catra couldn't help herself—she let out an amused snort. "If Adora learns how to stay still, then sure."

A heavy, familiar weight draped itself suddenly over Catra's shoulders. "Stay still?" asked Adora loudly. Her lips were warm where they brushed against Catra's ear, and—yep, that was definitely the smell of wine in her breath. "Why would I stay still when we could dance?"

"It's only been, like, an hour since the party started," Catra pointed out exasperatedly, unable as she was to keep the fondness out of her voice. "How on Etheria are you already drunk?"

"You came blame Sea Hawk for that," drawled another voice behind Catra. She turned to find Mermista and the culprit in question slumped nearly unconscious against her. "He challenged her to a drinking competition and lost, obviously."

"I'm the winnerrrr!" Adora hollered. "Which is why you should dance with me." Her warm hands found their way to Catra's hips and clumsily spun her around.

"Alright, Princess," Catra finally acquiesced, wrapping an arm around her waist. "But I'm taking the lead."

And then she dipped a laughing Adora until all she could see were the stars shining far, far above.

They're too old to be dealing with this, Catra thinks, as she narrowly ducks to avoid getting speared by a stupidly large, razor-sharp, possibly poisonous pincer.

She supposes that bug monsters aren't exactly considerate when it comes to trying to eat people who accidentally disturb their sleep. In fact, Catra can somewhat sympathize. But she's no longer as agile as she used to be, and she can literally feel her joints creak as she leaps towards it. Thankfully, her claws have remained as sharp as ever. The beast staggers backwards with a shrill cry as Catra rakes them across its eye.

"Uh, Adora?" she calls. "A little bit of help here?"

She waits for the glowing flash of light that signals She-Ra's transformation, but it never comes. Instead, Adora runs up to the beast with a hoarse cry, holding a rock of all things in her hands.

"Adora, no!" Catra yells.

The rock sails through the air and hits the bug square in its remaining good eye. It rears on its hind legs for a moment, its shrill scream making pain lance through Catra's ears. Adora slumps over with her hands on her knees, panting, as the creature sways and begins to fall forward.

"Adora!"

It takes all of Catra's strength to barrel into her hard enough to send them both rolling away as the beast hits the ground. The impact is enough to make the forest floor shake, sending a large plume of dirt into the air. Next to her, Adora lets out a low groan.

"You absolute idiot," Catra wheezes. She cranes her neck and sees the bug beast crumpled thirty meters away. "Why did you just go in like that?"

"What choice did I have?" hisses Adora. "I can't transform!"

Blood drains from Catra's face. "What?"

"My sword!" cries Adora. "I can't become She-Ra without my sword!"

Catra balks as Adora continues to frantically spew nonsense. "I must've misplaced it, or maybe it broke? Shit, I broke it, didn't I? Wait—why are you looking at my hair?"

"Did you hit your head?" Catra demands, combing through Adora's scalp for signs of injury. She finds nothing.

"No, just my—ow, knee—ugh, if only I had my sword then I could transform and heal it—"

She drops her hands from Adora's head and clutches her shoulders instead. Looking directly into her eyes, Catra says, "Adora. You don't need your sword to transform anymore. You haven't needed it in ages."

In spite of the cacophony in the meeting room—Glimmer and Bow poring over a map of the Northern Reach and Frosta determinedly taking notes of Entrapta's comments, Perfuma and Mermista arguing over the ethics of riding snow monsters in the background, and Scorpia loudly offering everyone snacks—it only took Catra less than five minutes to notice the sudden lack of Adora's presence.

"Where's Adora?"

Miraculously, her voice cut through the noise, and the room fell into a sudden hush as everyone glanced around.

"Huh." Bow's face pulled into a frown. "I was just about to show her the new figurine I made for her."

"Wait, why don't I get a new figurine?" Frosta pouted.

Mermista smirked. "I got, like, two updates to mine in the past month. It's sooo dope."

"That's because you keep breaking them!"

"Excuse me? You're the one who keeps dropping them, not me!"

And just like that, chaos was restored to the meeting room. Catra sighed and set down her own miniature, intrigued as she was by its intricate design. She wasn't sure if she liked the new addition of fuzz on her ears, but that was a problem for later.

"I'll go get her."

"You know where she went?" asked Scorpia.

"I have an idea."

Since the liberation of Etheria, the Princess Alliance had decided to move some of their meetings to the Scorpion Kingdom, which required the most renovation—though Perfuma had taken care of about half of it by reinforcing everything with crawling vines and flowers. Now, without the hazy, electric smog that once rendered the place nearly inhabitable for fauna and flora, the sky above the former Fright Zone was speckled with stars. Catra caught glimpses of them as she climbed the old exhaust pipes, tracing the path that she still knew as well as the back of her hand.

The stairs, now covered in grass, were marked by footprints. Catra's ears perked up.

Adora stood at the edge of the platform, her back partially eclipsing the moon. Her shoulders were raised and tense. She turned before Catra could call out to her, expression wary.

Their eyes locked. Adora attempted a smile, though feeble. "Hey, Catra."

"Hey," Catra said softly as she came up to Adora, forgoing the railing to stand beside her instead. "I thought we said no more leaving on your own."

Adora exhaled, leaning her head against Catra's collarbone. "I'm sorry. I just… needed a moment."

Catra hummed. Carefully, she lifted a hand to gently massage Adora's shoulders. They were always so awfully stiff.

"Do you think he's really, truly gone?"

This time, it was Catra's turn to stiffen. Something prickled at the back of her neck. She resisted the urge to reach up and feel the scarred skin there.

But it was only really a phantom pain.

"I don't feel him anymore," Catra told her. "Do you?"

After a long moment, Adora shook her head, uncurling her fist and laying it in front of her. It took a second for light to flicker in the space above it, like a star coming to life in her palm.

"Sometimes…" began Adora, "I wonder if she'll be gone one day, too."

"Adora…"

"Someday, people won't need her anymore." You won't need me anymore, she didn't say.

Catra placed a hand over her open palm and laced their fingers together. "I need you, Adora. Your friends do, too. And since when were you any different from She-Ra?"

Adora smiled at her weakly. "You never used to call me She-Ra."

"Well, forget that." Catra scoffed. "We never used to hold hands or kiss or whatever, too. Can you imagine?"

That earned her a laugh from Adora, warm and full. Catra could have basked in it all day, except Adora cupped her jaw with an almost desperate suddenness and kissed her deeply, so scratch that. She'd spend forever like this if she could, entwined so tightly with Adora she no longer knew where one of them ended and the other began.

She could have even ignored the telltale sound of sparkles behind them, if only Sparkles hadn't always been so persistent.

"Hey, lovebirds!" she crowed. "Meeting's over!"

"Which should mean we're free to do whatever we want," Catra drawled over Adora's shoulder.

"I take it you're fine with missing dinner, then?"

"Er…" Adora's stomach chose that exact moment to grumble loudly enough to alert the whole Alliance. "Sorry," she grimaced.

"Huh." Glimmer smirked. "Seems like you were due for an interruption anyway."

"I hope you never get to make out with your boyfriend in peace ever again."

"Oh, Catra," sighed Glimmer, patting her forearm, "you're going to make a wonderful maid of honor."

When Catra cracks an eye open, she finds Adora sitting up and staring at the window, half of their shared blanket pooled around her waist.

"Adora?"

Adora turns around, forehead creased deeply. She looks at Catra for a long moment. "We're going to be late for Scorpia's ball."

Catra frowns. "Adora, Scorpia isn't having a ball. Did you dream about it?"

"No," Adora whispers. "No, it's not a dream, Prime, he—"

The mention of Prime's name makes ice creep up the back of Catra's neck. "Hey," she says, sitting up to pull Adora closer to her. "You're okay. He's gone."

"He's gone," Adora repeats. Her fingers tighten where they're wrapped around Catra's hand. "I thought—it wasn't—"

She's looking at the curtains, that turquoise blue, blue like running water. It is only then that Catra realizes how much they resemble the waterfalls in Bright Moon. Had that been the reason why Adora had chosen them?

"Where are we, Catra?"

"What do you mean?" she asks worriedly. "We're at home, Adora."

"Oh." Adora blinks. "Oh, right."

"You sure you don't have a fever, or something?" She presses a hand to Adora's forehead. It feels shockingly cool.

"No fever," murmurs Adora. "I can't miss the ball!"

"There is no ball, Adora," Catra repeats, trying to keep her voice gentle in spite of the growing knot of fear in her chest. "Go back to sleep."

"Can't sleep without you," Adora whines softly, tugging Catra until she melts into the pillow beside her.

"You're the one who woke up first, idiot," Catra says, but Adora's already asleep, her head partly pillowing Catra's arm, and it's definitely going to go numb in a minute but Catra doesn't dare to try to move. Instead, she uses her other hand to trace the lines on Adora's forehead, over and over again until she, too, feels herself drift into unconsciousness.

"You know," began Adora as they walked hand-in-hand out of their bedroom and down the hall, "I had a vision just like this. In the Heart."

"In the Heart?" Catra echoed.

"Yeah," Adora said. "When I'd… gone under. I saw you, with your hair long and in a ponytail like now. We were heading out with Bow and Glimmer."

"You've never told me this before," said Catra, cautiously.

"I was scared, I guess," Adora squeezed her hand. It was an almost absentminded gesture, as if a part of her still needed to remind herself that Catra was real. "Like, you know how you're not supposed to tell anyone what you wish for, because it might not come true anymore?"

"Was it? A wish, I mean?"

"Maybe. But you know what's funny?" She turned to Catra, her gaze roving over her body in a way that made Catra's skin warm, until it finally settled at the bottom of her open collar. "You were already wearing my pin, even though I had no idea what it meant."

Catra smirked. "Are you saying you wanted to marry me before even telling me you loved me?"

"I've always wanted to spend my whole life with you," said Adora seriously.

"Well," Catra said, trying and failing not to let her voice crack as she leaned into Adora's warmth, "I guess your wish did come true."

Adora's been stealing glances at Catra since she returned to Bright Moon that afternoon.

After a week away helping Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio sort out a feud with an emerging gang in the Crimson Waste, all Catra wants to do now is spend time with her wife as soon and as much as possible, and also preferably in private. But Adora has been strangely distant since her arrival—Catra considers, briefly, that she might've been upset by her insisting she stay in Bright Moon instead of at home, alone.

When Catra finally catches her alone at the veranda, she looks almost startled to see her. There's a soft blush on her cheeks, though, which gives Catra the confidence to stalk towards her, slowly, a deliberate sway in her hips.

"Missed me?" she purrs.

The blush on Adora's face turns furious. "You're wearing my pin."

A bit of a strange opener, but she'll take it. "Oh, this?" Catra runs a finger down the exposed line of her chest until it catches on the golden brooch she'd pinned right above her heart. "Yeah, you gave it to me."

A disbelieving sound startles out of Adora. "I—I did?"

"What are you—are you messing with me right now?"

Adora frowns. "No. Why are you wearing my pin?"

"Because we're ma—" Catra cuts off abruptly at the blank expression on Adora's face.

She really doesn't remember. Her gut lurches. Oh, gods. We're married and she doesn't remember.

If she doesn't remember we're married, then what— A pit opens up in her stomach. She closes her eyes, trying to steady herself and struggling to regain her bearings amidst the rush of blood in her ears.

A soft gasp stops her from spiraling completely. She looks back up at Adora, expecting to find something like contempt on her face—a voice in her head cuts in to say I never hated you!—or perhaps cold disapproval. But Adora's eyes hold nothing but hope.

"Catra, did you finally join the Rebellion?"

Catra's eyes widen before she manages a small smile. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Oh." Adora breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad." She steps towards Catra—tentatively, at first, and then suddenly as she rushes forward to embrace her. It's a sweet, chaste gesture; it pierces Catra to her core. "Catra, I'm so glad."

"Dumbass," Catra whispers, feeling her chest tighten with an age-old ache. It's been years since she last felt the weight of her regrets; once, she'd been prepared to carry that burden her whole lifetime.

She pulls away. "The Horde is gone."

And it's strange, how the expression on Adora's face only changes minutely, as if the confirmation of having Catra back by her side had already filled her capacity for relief to the brim.

"Good riddance."

Adora was looking directly at her, drinking her in, the loveliest of smiles on her face. Their friends were sniffling loudly in the background, but right now, she's sure not even a sudden downpour, or an earthquake, or even an asteroid coming from space could make Adora tear her gaze away from her.

She'd always looked at Catra like that, even when they were kids, and making eye contact with Adora made Catra's twist with an emotion she was still too young to name. She'd stared, wide-eyed, at Catra like that the first time she'd dipped her in Princess Prom, as they skirted around each other walking through the Crystal Castle, and even in an alternate reality that was breaking apart at the seams.

And maybe it was a terrible time to remember this, as she stood on the altar waiting to say her vows, but Catra couldn't help it. She thought back to the first time, on Prime's ship, that she blinked her eyes open to Adora's face. Her expression may have been utterly broken, but there had been something in her eyes back then that still hasn't changed to this day.

Adora still looked at Catra like she was her whole world. And maybe—no matter how much Catra had denied it at first—it was true. Adora had come back for her, after all, even when the fate of the universe hung in the balance. Adora had promised to take her home.

Adora wanted Catra, for the rest of her life. And Catra, who had never known a life without her, could never want for anything more.

So she looked back into the first pair of eyes she'd ever known—imploring, with all her heart, for Adora to see the love reflected in her own—and began to make a promise.

"I, Catra, take you, Adora, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in joy and sadness, in sickness and in health…"

There was a time when Catra would never have been able to imagine herself setting foot in Bright Moon to do anything other than conquer it.

Now, as her footsteps echo down its brightly-lit halls, memories come flooding back to her at every turn: the meeting room where they'd held their weekly Alliance meetings, the first bedroom she and Adora shared after the war, the garden where they'd held their intimate wedding. How many of them, she wonders, had Adora forgotten?

She finds Glimmer in the meeting room, sitting in the chair that once belonged to her mother. Catra glances briefly at her likeness on the wall and inclines her head in respect.

"Adora's not here?"

Catra's mouth hardens into a thin line. Gesturing at the empty seat in front of her, she asks, "where's Bow?"

Bow comes in a second later carrying a tea tray. There are four cups balanced on top of it, and he sets down each of them one by one.

At the last cup, he hesitates; Catra's heart squeezes the moment he places it next to hers. "I'm assuming Adora's gonna be late?"

"No, she's at Spinnerella and Netossa's," Catra finally manages.

Glimmer frowns. "Is there a reason for that? Wait." Her face pales. "Don't tell me that this is about her."

"It is."

"Shit." She exchanges a worried glance with Bow before turning back to Catra. "What happened?"

"I think—" Catra's voice breaks. She balls her hands into fists on her lap—she might leave scratches on the lacquered table otherwise. "I think she might be losing her memory."

"Did you really think I'd just let Shadow Weaver erase your memory like that?"

Catra's heart was beating rapidly in her throat. She knew her grip on Adora's forearm was tight enough to draw blood, but her claws were retracted. She'd made sure of that.

Adora shook her head, eyes wide as she dangled off the precipice. Her voice trembled only slightly as she said, "I dunno. Probably."

All Catra needed to do was let go, to be rid of her. She yanked her back onto the cliff in one swift movement.

"Yeah, well, you never did have too much faith in me."

"Can you blame me?" Adora asked weakly.

Catra dropped her hand. With a dry laugh, she said, "Not really."

She walked away, but her tail seemed to have a mind of its own, brushing against Adora's forearm. She could almost hear the eagerness in Adora's steps as she stumbled to catch up to her. She was probably wearing some kind of stupid, guileless smile too, like the one she always wore when they were kids getting into all sorts of trouble without ever really thinking of the consequences.

"It wasn't all bad growing up in the Fright Zone, was it?" blurted Catra. "I mean"—her eyes flickered towards Adora for a moment before she averted them—"you still have some good memories, right?"

"Of course I do," said Adora, and Catra hated how earnest she sounded, before her jaw set and she looked at Catra determinedly.

"But it doesn't change the fact that the Horde is evil. I had no choice. I couldn't go back."

And she hated even more how patronizing she was. As if Catra hadn't already experienced the truth of that evil. As if Adora hadn't turned away from it and left her in the dark.

She couldn't even go back for you, drawled a voice in Catra's head that wasn't her own. Catra decided to not give the satisfaction of an answer to either of them.

"Hey," Adora elbowed her. It was a familiar, friendly gesture; one that had no place between a Rebellion princess and a Horde Force Captain. "I miss you, too."

As Catra shoved her back playfully, she pondered: what a strange thing it was, for their bodies to have memories of their own.

Catra has never been a fan of the beach, averse to water as she is, but there is something mind-numbingly calming about watching the rhythmic movement of waves lapping against Mystacor's shore.

She uses a single claw to draw lines in the sand. It starts out nonsensical, until she finds herself spelling out She-Ra's name in First Ones' writing, like Adora had taught her all those years ago.

The sea swallows it all a moment later. Catra traces the symbols again.

And again, and again, and again, until her joints begin to ache and her eyes are stinging from the wind. She thinks she must sit there for hours, trying and failing to drown out her thoughts, until her ears finally pick up the soft pad of approaching footsteps on the sand.

Glimmer and Bow take their place on either side of her. Decades of friendship have made them familiar with the exact distance Catra requires to maintain personal space; it is also what makes them sit a little closer to her now.

"How are you?" asks Bow gently.

"Depends." Her voice comes out scratchy from disuse. "How's Adora?"

"She's alright. Resting." Glimmer inhales shakily. "Do you want to go see her?"

"Were they able to restore her memory?"

Glimmer and Bow exchange a glance, which tells Catra everything she needs to know. A dull pain begins to creep up her ribcage. Still, she waits.

Finally, a small, gloved hand makes its way to her forearm. "The healers did everything they could," says Glimmer softly. "She's strong. But to try and mess with her mind… it's too dangerous."

Catra had at least prepared herself for that much. She pushes down the bile that rises in her throat, even though a part of her goes down kicking and screaming at the cruel irony of it all.

Haven't I had enough? screams a younger version of her, all bleeding wounds and fraying edges. Wasn't it enough to almost lose everything?

But—she'd jumped off the cliff with her eyes wide open. She'd walked past Light Spinner's mural without giving it a second glance. So despite the part of her that curls inward at the thought of seeing the pain she'd inflicted on Adora a lifetime ago resurface, despite the fear that threatens to push her back into the shadows and swallow her whole—she stands.

"One, two, three—"

It was only her fear of water that kept Catra from jumping after Adora the moment she dove. Still, she was on her feet before she knew it, heartbeat rising faster than the bubbles that welled up from where Adora had disappeared under the waves.

"I'm okay!" Adora yelled back as she resurfaced; Catra realized, belatedly, that she had called out her name.

Slowly, she felt her claws retract as she took in the sight of Adora, all flushed cheeks and a grin so wide it revealed the slightest crook in her front teeth. A few strands of darkened blonde hair which had escaped her ponytail stuck endearingly in whorls around her forehead.

"I'm okay," she repeated, her eyes softening around the corners as Catra sagged in relief. "It's not that cold! I'm sure you'll be fine—"

Whatever brief, tiny urge she may have had to join her girlfriend dissipated the moment a spray of water hit her square in the face. She let out a loud shriek, tumbling backwards on the outcropping of rock that Bow and Glimmer—her supposed friends—had just cannonballed off from.

"WOO-HOO!" hollered Bow as he emerged from the surge. Glimmer popped up a second later, laughing as she threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck.

According to Entrapta's calculations, the planet of Mahasamut had a surface comprised of approximately 98.7% water—which, in Catra's terms, was simply too much. She'd almost opted to stay aboard Darla, but her duties to the team (as well as their incessant nagging) had prevailed in the end.

She should've known that it would only be the start of it.

"Come on, Catra!" Glimmer called. "Don't you wanna have some fun?"

"I want," Catra grit out through chattering teeth, "to keep myself warm and dry."

"But your hair's already wet!"

"Gee, I wonder how that happened."

Bow clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. "I am so, so sorry!"

"Okay, now you're all just being dramatic," said Glimmer, which is, okay. Catra had to hold back a snort at that. "Like Adora said, it's not that bad at all!”

"Guys, it's fine,” Adora said. "You guys can go explore a bit and I'll stay here near the shore with Catra."

Bow and Glimmer looked from Adora, to Catra, to each other, each glance more furtive than the last.

"Are you two sure?"

"We can definitely hang around—"

"But if you really don't mind—"

"Go on," Catra drawled. "Go find a place to make out or something."

Glimmer, glowing pinker than her hair, stuck out her tongue at Catra before she swam off—or at least Bow did, with Glimmer holding on to his shoulders for dear life as she shouted directions at the top of her lungs.

It was only once their friends were a safe, zero-splash-risk distance away from them that Catra told Adora—"I don't mind if you wanna follow them, you know"—and was surprised to realize that she meant it.

"I know," Adora said simply. "But I want to stay with you."

Catra shrugged. "Suit yourself," she told her, not bothering to bite back the smile from her face.

"I'm gonna do a few laps first, though," Adora declared, ever the restless spirit. "Watch me for a bit?"

"You know I've always got my eye on you, Princess."

It was not a bad view at all, watching the muscles on Adora's back ripple with each powerful stroke through the water. There were scars there, too; raised pink lines Catra had traced countless times on nights that sleep evaded her, as if the gentle drag of her knuckles could erase the wounds left by her sharpened claws. Adora would always catch her on those nights, turning around before Catra reached the precipice, to take her fingers and intertwine them with her own. To press a kiss to each palm and remind her that her hands were still good for better things. Softer things.

"Catra?" Adora called out. Her eyes sparkled as she caught sight of Catra shucking off her shirt and shorts. "Are you—"

Catra didn't let her finish her sentence. She jumped into the water.

Free falling felt a lot like stepping into space for the first time: the way she let gravity relinquish its hold on her. The way she gave into trust. When Catra hit the water it was with much less grace than Adora, and there was no land for her feet to steady herself on. But there was Adora, and Adora's arms, and Adora's laugh as she yelled, delightedly: "Catra! Oh, Catra, you really didn't have to!"

"I wanted to," Catra told her determinedly; her voice lost a bit of strength with the way her teeth were chattering. Her fur was a wet weight, matted and uncomfortable, but the lightness in her chest felt like a buoy, lifting her up.

"Catra," Adora repeated, exhilarated, and Catra could never, ever tire of hearing her name spill from Adora's mouth, so reverently and lovingly, so full of light. "Oh, Catra."

It's a long, winding staircase up to Mystacor's hospital wing, and Catra feels nearly dyspneic by the moment she pushes through the door of Adora's ward at the very end of the hall. The room, thankfully, is spacious and well-lit, and the gentle breeze blowing in through the open windows means she's able to immediately get a breath of fresh air.

Adora sits reclined against the pillows, posture still sharp in spite of the aches in her back that Catra had spent many an evening trying to knead away. Her hair fans out like a halo around her, and there's a sparkle to her blue eyes that spills over to the creases that frame them.

It really doesn't matter how much time has passed—Adora is still the loveliest person Catra has ever seen.

"Hey, Adora," Catra says softly.

Adora's gaze sweeps over her, searching. Catra wonders what she thinks of what she sees now: the greying hair she'd decided to wear short, the slight hunch in her shoulders, the wrinkles around her own heterochromatic eyes.

"Catra…" she whispers. She smiles, lopsided, and her lips quiver. The light from the approaching dusk catches in her irises.

They're shining. With rising horror, Catra realizes that Adora is about to cry.

"Shit," Catra mutters. "What's wrong?"

"No—nothing, it's just," Adora answers, a wet laugh escaping her. "No, this is… good. Really good."

"Adora, what are you talking about?"

"You're here," Adora says breathlessly, like it's a miracle. "After everything. I thought—I thought I'd lost you."

"Of course I'm here," Catra says. She moves to sit on the edge of the bed, her tail brushing gently against Adora's forearm. "Why… why would I leave, when all I've ever wanted for you was to stay?"

Adora's face crumples even further, and Catra—well, Catra can neither help the tears that slide down her own cheeks, nor the way she leans into Adora's touch as she thumbs them away.

"I'm sorry," whispers Adora. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting, I keep getting lost."

"It's okay. I'll remember. For the both of us."

She cups the back of Adora's neck and leans into her. Their foreheads press together, and Catra thinks, wildly, that if she could cede her memories through skin and bone, or perhaps even cleave her skull open for Adora, she would.

"I'm going to take you home."

"Home," echoes Adora. She glances out the window, and Catra can only hope that she is thinking of a house in a valley down below, where the land stretches into the horizon and the stars shine as bright as they are in space. "I think I'd like that."

Their last day on Eternia, Adora found Catra curled up in the shadow of their ship.

Wordlessly, she settled down on the grass and leaned into Catra's shoulder. They'd parked Darla at a cliff not too far from the heart of the city; from here, they could still see its towering skyscrapers and holographic lights flickering in the distance, muted in the ever-present radiance of the moon above.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before one of them finally spoke.

"Was it, you know…" Catra waved a hand in the vague direction of the capital. "Was it everything you thought it would be?"

Even when she was deep in thought, it was a rare thing for Adora to be so quiet. Then again, nothing about this trip had been normal for Adora. Catra could only begin to imagine how jarring it must have been for her, to be welcomed back home in a place she had never really known.

Adora hadn't told her yet, but Catra knew they'd asked her to stay.

"Yes and no, I guess," answered Adora. "I didn't really imagine it. I didn't know what to imagine."

Catra hummed. "What about your… people?" The word felt strange on Catra's tongue. She wasn't even sure if it was right one; she'd considered family, but… there hadn't been anyone else left. Adora's parents had passed soon after she was born. Catra, who remembered nothing before waking up in a box in the Fright Zone as a child, at least knew a bit about mourning someone you'd never met.

But she also knew a thing or too about finding other people to fill the spaces. Adora, who had taken up so much of that space that Catra once almost ended the world in the crushing void of her absence, did too. And so they'd held onto each other as they cried.

"What about them?"

"They seem… nice."

That made Adora snort. "You've never called anyone nice in your life."

"It's not like the word has been in my vocabulary for a while."

That pulled a laugh out of Adora, which made Catra smile, until she remembered the very real possibility of only ever hearing that lovely, bright sound again through a communication pad. She hugged her knees closer to her chest.

"They offered me a place to a stay. Permanently."

"I know."

She could feel Adora's eyes practically burning holes into the side of her head. But Catra was determined not to speak. She could let Adora decide for herself. She could try to be selfless, too, just like Adora had taught her.

"Catra," Adora placed a firm hand on her shoulder. The weight of it was grounding, but any more of it and Catra thought she might fall apart in Adora's arms. "You're allowed to have a say in this, too, you know."

Catra swallowed thickly. "Well, what do you want, Adora?"

She'd asked this question before, right after Adora had taken the Failsafe, before Catra had tried to run away for good. But she'd never really been able to stay away from Adora, hadn't she? It didn't matter whether they were friends or enemies or allies, whether they fought side by side or against each other, clawing and kicking for that closeness even as the world tried to tear them apart.

Finally Adora stood, extending her hand to Catra. It was less of a question than an answer; it was the whole, untarnished truth.

"Come on," she beckoned her. "Etheria is waiting for us."

She took her hand.

They arrive at the edge of the valley just as the first stars begin to appear in the sky overhead.

"Stars," Adora says, gaze fixed upon the firmament. "I remember them." There's a quiet melancholy to her voice as she adds, "I came from somewhere up there, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Catra stuffs her hands in her pockets and tilts her head back. "We spent a lot of time up there, too."

A smile tugs at the corner of Adora's mouth. "It was fun."

"It sure was," agrees Catra.

She leads Adora slowly down the hilly slope to the garden. With the temperature in the valley steadily dropping, most of the flowers have already gone, save for the begonias Perfuma had enchanted to keep flowering year-round. Beside her, Adora takes everything in in awed silence.

When they finally arrive at the door, the warm light illuminates the pensive look on Adora's face.

"You know," she says, "I always thought it was beautiful, that some people choose to live together until the end of their lives, not just at the beginning."

Catra hums, not sure she can trust herself to speak. Instead, she shows Adora around the living room, chest tightening as she watches her run a hand over the soft velvet of the armchair. She wonders, vaguely, if she remembers knitting the blanket draped over it as a gift for Catra six years ago.

"There's a word for that, isn't there?" Adora says as her eyes sweep over the kitchen next, where half a loaf of bread sits wrapped in cloth on the counter. Catra notes the basket of ripe tomatoes right to next to it. She'll make soup tomorrow, she decides, if Adora sticks around. "Ah. It's just on the tip of my tongue."

"Yeah?" Catra leads them to the bedroom, flushing when she realizes the implications of them having only one bed.

But Adora isn't looking at the bed at all.

"The curtains."

"What about them?"

"They're turquoise. Like your eye."

"O-oh." The years fall away in her mind, and she recalls the sly amusement in Adora's voice when she'd held up the cloth and asked Catra: What do you think? "You were the one who picked them."

"Because of you," Adora tells her, with a sudden, stunning surety. "The begonias in the garden, too. Those remind me of your left one."

The begonias, which Adora had insisted on them buying even when they didn't have any more space in their garden. Yellow ones.

Catra's throat closes up.

"That's stupid," she croaks. "Why would you need reminders of me when I'm always right here?"

Adora sits down on the edge of the bed. "I keep forgetting things," she says. "Sometimes I'd wake up thinking I was back in the Fright Zone again, and you were sleeping curled up at my feet like you always did. Sometimes I'd think I was in Bright Moon, and you next to me was just some kind of dream." She pauses. "Once, I thought maybe we'd never closed the portal at all."

"Sometimes I was relieved, sometimes I was scared, and angry, and lost. But then you'd always wake up a moment later, and—you're always so clingy in the mornings, Catra, did you know that?" She shakes her head. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave you again. You'd kiss my temple, every time, before you even opened your eyes. And my whole body would soften and open up, just like that."

Adora looks up at Catra, and it's with that same longing, hopeful look that's less of an expression she wears than the core of her, welling up to the surface, her eyebrows slightly raised and pupils so dark they nearly eclipse the blue. It doesn't matter that her forehead is etched with wrinkles now, or that there are crows' feet around her eyes—she still is the same old Adora, always so full of hope. She still is, to Catra, the whole world in the body of a girl.

"Catra… you love me, don't you?"

"You idiot," Catra sobs. And because there is no universe where she doesn't say it, where it isn't wholly, absolutely true: "Of course I love you. I always have."

And as it is written into the fabric of this universe, as in every other one—Adora comes back to her, holds on to her, and stays.

"I love you, too."

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Adora asks.

"It's worth a shot," says Glimmer. "Catra, you said this place projects your memories, too, right? Not just She-Ra's?"

Catra nods. "It doesn't just project it. It kind of drops you back in the memory itself. And multiple people can experience it at once, as long as it's shared."

"So as long as you and Adora stick together…"

"We can relive the memories that we've shared," Catra confirms, squeezing Adora's hand. "Well, as long as Entrapta hacked into the First Ones' tech properly to make sure the program is still, you know, running."

"Oh! Haven't I told you guys?" Bow pulls out his communication pad and squints at the screen. "Her calculations for this mission basically blew every other prediction she's ever had out of the park. The probability of successful memory retrieval is… exactly ninety-five point six percent." He whistles. "She literally told us back then that we had a zero point two percent chance of defeating Horde Prime, which we did, by the way."

"Well, that's a relief," Adora exhales, sagging against Catra.

"I know, right! But man, this place still gives me the creeps," Bow shudders. "I can't believe that hologram's still alive. It's been glitching for, what, the past half century now?"

Adora's eyebrows furrow. "Light Hope?"

"Planetary facilitator Light Hope protocol offline. Manual administrator access not recommended at this time."

Catra turns to Adora. "This is it. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she says.

A flash of blue light fills the atrium. Seconds later, a large, strong hand wraps itself around Catra's smaller one. Together, hand-in-hand, they step forward.

"We're friends of Mara." Catra declares. "And this," she says, "is She-Ra."

The hologram glitches once, twice, before a beam of light emanates from its center, scanning the two of them from head to toe. Catra holds her breath.

And then—red, phasing back into blue, as Adora's hand tightens around hers.

"Welcome, friends of Mara."