DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters or content of the TV show She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.
SPOILERS: The story starts after season 4, with no alterations to the events in the series.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: You'll find I'll be taking some liberties with the world building and how it's realized in my storyline (except for Glimmadora, 'cause that subtext be ALL over the place!). I'm mixing in more maturity while trying to keep true to their most prominent mannerisms. I'm normally a fantasy/sci-fi writer, but when I was looking for more good Glimmadora fic, I came up wanting. Well written romance stories weave a full tapestry, and are rarely manageable if they only highlight the couple/group in question. The story has been haunting my thoughts and dreams since it came around. I hope that translates to consistent and quality updates.
Comments, questions, and criticisms always welcome.
Sidestep. Duck. Leg sweep. Roll. Jump back. Squat. Weave. Pivot. Duck again. Dodge. Push forward, body throw, side roll, jump kick, backhand, another squat, uppercut, jab, pivot and weave, roundho—BAM!
What resounded in her head was a sound far stronger than the dull crack that came from the wooden training post. Heaving out hot breaths, Adora brought her foot back down without a second thought for how it throbbed, focused instead on her training "partner" in the near dark. The top segment was tilted, held by the tight grain around the jagged break, as if taunting her in its last moments with a bloody smile on its lips. She glared at it for a couple more heartbeats while her lungs settled down, as well. Just another reminder. Like I need one, she thought grimly.
Adora popped it off neatly with a hand heel strike and walked with a concentrated smoothness to a nearby bench. A small, damp towel hung off the edge, and next to it stood a bottle, contents almost gone. She watched her hand close around its contours, raise it toward her face, and pour the cooling liquid into her body. This new concoction from Mystacor was almost all of what Adora had drank (or eaten, if she were being honest) in the past three days. Their Guild had distilled an energizing drink from their springs, keeping most of the healing minerals while adding a sweetener and plant proteins. Castaspella insisted on a lower ratio of sweetener for Adora's ration—it brought a ghost of a smirk to her lips, knowing someone knew her like that. Knows me like…
Blue eyes lifted skyward, to the stars that filled every corner of her vision, spilled into every crevice between the trees and mountains. Most Etherians were frightened of them, thought they were ghosts, or a great super weapon unleashed by the war on the Horde. Whether it was Adora's memory of stars from her distant origins or the want for answers that may lie among them, her breaks during these practice sessions often passed staring at them. There were all shapes and sizes, strengths and magnitudes, and sometimes she thought she could form the constellations that Bow's dad Lance had described. And if she blurred her vision, Adora could lose herself in the striking view, bold and beautiful orbs against an eternal darkness.
She huffed, capped the bottle, and stretched. Eventually, the vast army of Horde Prime's ships would come back into focus, and the imminent dread stabbed at her mind. Physical strain and the lofty roof of Bright Moon's palace were her only shields from that feeling, now that the Sword of Protection was gone. Every extension of her arm and twist of her core revealed a muscle that needed strength, a reaction that needed precision. Imagining how the Primes fought and what she could do to survive them was far from the accuracy she'd like during her training.
But, she breathed out in the stillness of the courtyard under the stars, it's the best I've got.
An electronic chirp brought Bow's heading whipping around. Filling the lab's doorframe was Princess Scorpia, a triumphant smile on her face.
"Bow! I've got a present for you! …er, a broken present…not really a present, I guess," she cocked her head and looked at the broken training post in her pincers, "Well, you're a maker, so maybe it is a present…"
He forced a grin, "Thanks, Scorpia. You can…uh, set it down anywhere over there."
He pointed to the end of the long, segmented table at which he sat, working on a new upgrade for the palace tracker pads. The lab was home to both mechanical and electronic workspaces, and Bow didn't want the princess coming near the delicacies of his work given her dexterity…or lack thereof.
"Oh sure," she said in her same sing-song tone, "Right here—got it! I am…I am on it like a soldier on a ration bar."
Scorpia leaned the post against the table edge gingerly, watching to see that it stayed. Bow likewise watched, nodding curtly in approval, and turned back to his project.
"Thanks for bringing that by. Did Shadow Weaver ask you to?"
"Oh nah, I was up early, breathing in the day—the air is so much cleaner outside the Fright Zone!" she filled up her lungs in memory. "I overheard the guard captain the other day asking everyone to keep the palace shipshape while—uh…for when the Queen returns…so I did a quick round and saw this little guy—hup!"
Bow turned once again with a tremor running through his gut. Scorpia was in mid lunge to catch the damaged post before it fell into a pile of neatly stacked raw material. She ended up saving it just in time, but the adrenaline of completing a task successfully got the better of her. She pumped one pincer in celebration, which rocketed the post up in the air, where gravity crashed it down on to the pile anyway. Scorpia glanced back and forth between the young man and the mess.
"Oh dear, I am…I am so, so sorry. I'll get this put back. Aw geeze…"
Sighing, Bow placed a weighted cloth over the dismantled pad and went to help.
"It's nothing, you're fine. We probably shouldn't put this by the door…Let's move it to the back, where the tables meet."
"Mmm, yeah, that's a lot better," Scorpia nodded sagely. "Yup, always thinkin'. So uh…whatcha workin' on?"
"Just a boost for our tracker pads. Since you and Entrapta will be traveling more and more, I want to make sure we can communicate consistently," Bow continued stacking metal bars on her outstretched arms.
"Good one! When's Entrapta back, by the way?"
"If anyone knew that girl's schedule, they'd have to be part computer. She's probably finding our hidden passages as we speak."
"Wait, those exist?" she looked around, wide-eyed.
"This palace has been around for generations. Queen Ange…Angella's ancestors built it around the Chamber of Queens. But every queen had their take on it, and added something or took this away, so the drawings are only partially right."
"Mmm, sounds like you guys could use Entrapta's attention. She has a knack for plans and all that technical jargon."
Bow picked up two blocks of a light metal alloy and jerked his head back toward their destination, "She does, when she doesn't have a million more theories popping into that head of hers. Good idea, though—I'll scan those up to her database in case she might uncover something. She got all that tech working off of your gemstone, after all. She is a wonder."
"Yeah, it's still gonna have enough to help me, right? I've been told I'll have to back to recharge once in a while. Buuuut I'm not sure what that's like. Do I go through the whole connection thing again? Or do I ask it? Just like, 'Hey Black Garnet! Mind givin' me some juice?' Heh heh…I-I still feel a bit…uh, silly."
"You probably will. I mean, I…"
He thought hard for a moment. All these years and I really have no idea what magic feels like. He remembered a tingling sensation when he got teleported, or an odd static when Adora turned into She-ra near him. Bow had heard Perfuma talk about her morning meditations near her tree, how she could feel its life force, or whatever, flowing like blood through veins. Is it like that for every princess? He wondered, how haven't I asked them more about this?
"Oooo, I know that look. You're off thinking again, aren't you?"
"I am, actually. What was your power? When you melded with your stone, what could you do?"
"Uh, well," she shifted her burden, blushing, "I basically punched a lizard girl 60 feet across the room into a wall. And then I punched the floor, and tore into about a dozen Emily-bots. So…punching? I have punch power."
"Hmmm. Have you done anything in the past week?"
"Gosh no. Just helping lift heavy objects, and…and trying to understand our briefings. All the magic stuff is still confusing."
"We should look into that. Every Princess has a specialty, yours might be…well, all others have a natural element. Cold, water, plant life," Bow swallowed, trying not to think about his missing friend, "Did you see anything cause the punches?"
"Oh yeah! It looked like red lightning!"
"Ok, lightning. We can work with thaaaat…"
Two more thoughts hit him at the same time. The first (and most important) was that the clumsy new Princess, standing next to extremely important equipment, could produce lightning. Surprisingly though, the second thought pushed that one out of the way, which was that Scorpia hadn't physically caught the falling post. The flashback in his mind saw its movements mimic the path of her pincers, yet without making contact.
He quickly put down his load and jogged back around to the post—not a mark on it, besides the break. Undoubtedly that came from Adora's late night sparring sessions, the ones he and Entrapta installed equipment for but never talked about. There's no way Scorpia was that delicate with her grip, with that reaction.
"Scorpia, I think you used your power to catch this!"
"Great!" she rushed up beside him. "Awesome! …I have no idea what that means!"
"It means…we need to get you trained up."
Perfuma hummed cheerily down the hall, plate of sliced melons in one hand and a jug of mint tea in the other. Through the high windows, morning sunlight warmed the soft lavender of the stone walls to an almost golden hue, calming her mind. She tried not to notice that fewer guards stood here, not to remember the desperation that seeped into their meetings, not to focus on how more and more she had less and less to say. Whisking into the conference hall, the Princess filled her lungs and reached out to all the flora in the room, hugging each and coaxing a bit of growth out of them.
Gently setting the food and drink in front of Mermista—already sulking, I see—Perfuma found her seat just as General Brizeus strode briskly in. Lines had grown more plentiful into her face, dug from worry and late nights. Few would comment on them, and fewer still would even notice, so deft was the commander at getting straight to business with any interaction nowadays.
"Thank you all for coming," she set her helmet down, and the rest were seated. "Before my main issue today, I want to confirm how our other kingdoms are faring. And…I hope I don't regret this, but…Seahawk, you have the floor."
The self-professed mariner straightened from where he gazed stoically out of the yawning arched window, half-shouting around a ready smile, "Oh great warrior maiden, you shall not!
"Yes, your brave Seahawk has sailed the lengths of the seas and skies to bring you news of fair lands afar! All councils of Plumeria, Salineas, and the…the Snows report their reconstruction goes well, what with the magics our Princesses are able to feed into their lands and works. Yea, I do say they should be at full strength two days hence, if all goes as planned. But rest well with the thought that my martial prowess and," he leaned closed to Mermista's face, "Unbreakable inspiration shall be at their service, should they ever call."
"Uhhhh, twelve shades of regret over here. Keep going, Brizeus," Mermista pushed Seahawk's face back without looking.
"Quartermaster Leanor, what of Bright Moon's status?"
"Word has spread quickly that we are digging into stores of food and lumber for any that need it, but the populace shows to be foraging on their own for restocking and repairs. I've even heard that Thaymor sent a cart of fruits and tree nuts to Frosta's people to reopen trade lines again," the bearded man touched his head in thanks to the small Princess. "Overall, there's a general unease…but the industrious ones work past it."
"Excellent. Major Halbur, what of recruiting and training?"
The woman's pale face grew a shock of red on her cheeks, "All we can muster, ma'am. Getting the troops to learn let alone stay committed is a daily struggle. Those that don't scare the others off with stories about the…the ships overhead…"
The general's jaw clenched momentarily then relaxed. Perfuma let her hands gracefully fall to her lap and exhaled slowly.
"How many have we grown?"
"About…two hundred? Between all the camps."
Brizeus almost sputtered, "Two hundred?! So few!"
"Convincing them to follow officers is one thing, general. Which is a monumental task compared to when we had She…"
In the span of less than a moment, the major glanced in Adora's direction and down, voice dying with what little color she had. The blonde hadn't moved an inch in all the time Perfuma had been in the room—hunched forward, elbows drilled into the table, hand covering her tight lips as she stared toward the table's center. The Plumerian could hear Brizeus' teeth grinding.
"That's as good of a segway as any. Princesses, I am Etherian born and raised, and my loyalty to the Rebellion and your wisdom should be unquestioned," she made eye contact with them all, unblinking, "But we need to start coming up with other options. I have made sure our preparations are as thorough as they can be without disrupting the character of our people. The allied kingdoms are back on their feet. My weight and potency only stretches so far. We need leadership, and fo—"
"We are not…elevating a new Queen."
Perfuma remembered the thunder from Mermista's raging squalls, the deafening roar of avalanches of Frosta's fury. She knew well the crash and whine of thick stone from Horde fortress walls in the hands of her plant golem, and flood of Etheria's energy through her mortal body just a week ago, an unworldly sound that redefined all the limits of her senses.
But the singular stressed word from Adora's mouth drowned out all of them. Perfuma remembered the phrase "kill with words," and today she finally understood the violence behind its meaning. Adora's eyes had finally met Brizeus', and were as cold as her broken blade.
"That was not my intention whatsoever, Adora. I am asking for this alliance to start working against the Primes, even if just to put out ideas that may not work so we might carve them into one that will."
After a beat, Adora sat slowly back in her chair and turned her eyes to the floor to her side, immediately distant. Taking another quiet breath, Perfuma listened as the gentle breezes and birdsong eased back into the meeting hall. A present silence she hadn't noticed before retreated just as seamlessly.
Frosta piped up, "Well, I'll bring it up if no one else will—what good are we on a ship? I don't exactly think the Primes are keeping plants up there that Perfuma could call on. Mermista might be able to get away with commanding any liquids on board, but that's not a chance I want to take right now. I would have to depend on any cold storage."
"She's right. One of our heavy hitters totally out, and two at half strength. Scorpia, it looks like you've got your chance to shine," Bow smiled wryly.
"You got it! Sign me up, Master Maker!" she saluted with a bravado they knew all too well.
"Scorpia, do you think we can expect any push back from the Fright Zone? We haven't had any report of movement yet. Do you think Catra would side with the Primes?"
"I uh…I wouldn't rule that out, ma'am."
"That could be why we haven't heard anything from them," Adora cleared her throat. "They're awaiting orders from the new higher ups."
"Major, make note to send word to our outposts immediately after we're done here: we remain on high alert for any activity within the Fright Zone, or anything to come out of it."
A barely audible scraping lodged itself in Perfuma's notice—Bow's well-worn hands grasped tightly on his bicep where his arms crossed, tendons standing out boldly on his dark skin. He muttered, possibly to Adora at his elbow, or to himself.
"They think we can actually do anything even if we do spot activity? They have a legion of ships bigger than the palace!"
The Plumerian steadied herself, sipping on her tea. There was always an answer in meditation, right? Covertly, she drew her knees up into a lotus. It was a year ago she learned to reach deep into her centered mindset without closing her eyes, instead forcing the room before her into a vague interaction of blobs. She brought the focus to her lungs, expanding and releasing, instead of the chaos that built around her. If she could only give them this gift, this concentration on the solutions and not the obstacles, not to get caught up on the staggering impossibilities…
Ohhhhm…ohhhhhm…Perfuma brought herself back to her breaths. The air flowed in and out, running through her body, feeding her skin and hands. There was the pulse of life in her blood going back and forth, rushing and seizing. The conversations and bickering morphed into a temple bell, a windy meadow. Perfuma felt a slight sway start to come over her, which mimicked the gesturing arms…like the limbs of a willow. Walking forward in her mind, she knelt beside an ambling creek, wishing the waters could wash her companions clean of doubt.
Deeper she reached, attempting to spread this acceptance. She teased at the corners of the general's implacable need for order, and tried coaxing away Mermista's apathy, and drew her soft hands along Frosta's blunt pessimism. The glow of the room shifted, no longer a blur of outlines, and not by her own doing that she was aware of.
The sunlight streamed in on all those gathered, and yet Brizeus' uniform of weathered white linen was illuminated with a deep, unmoving maroon. Perfuma blinked, shaking her head. Seahawk had turned a warm rose with a single puncture of cobalt at its center. At her leftside, Mermista was covered in a darker gold and then a haze of sea blue, as if it were an expensive dual colored satin. The meditating Princess sat forward in disbelief.
Everyone's glowing! Whose…did I do this? What's happening?!
Despite her inner panic, no one broke their habits. Debates rattled on per normal; only Mermista raised a dark eyebrow at Perfuma's jolt, then settled impassively back onto the topic at hand. Frosta's fist came up animatedly, a bright blazing red like the rest of her, and didn't alter in hue when it slammed on the map table. As she scanned further right, to make the complete circle, she gasped sharply. A net of pain choked her, and Perfuma quickly shut her eyes, the empty void too much to bear. There was a hollow spectre of navy that way, of which she only caught a glimpse, and the desperation there strangled her meditation.
"Perfuma!"
Before she knew it, Bow was at her side as she gasped, and slowly came back to consciousness. Everyone stared at her from their seats. Even two of the guards had taken off their helms. The colors were gone.
"Perfuma, what going on? Are you all right?" Bow squeeze her shoulder.
"I think…I think so…I'm not sure what that was, but just in case…no one drink that tea."