Author's Note: Have an amazing Pride month everybody!
Chapter 19: Enter Queen Evangeline
"Don't you have better things to do than push me around?" Adora said, curling her fingers around the wheelchair's armrests. She could push herself around, thank you very much.
"Adora, chill," Brick said with a sigh, "I'm not gonna force you to push yourself around and rip your stitches open. I know you've never had to wait around to heal, but you absolutely cannot do anything strenuous right now. So stop fuckin' squirming, and enjoy the great outdoors."
"The great outdoors just tried to kill me," Adora muttered, crossing her arms across her chest. At the movement, a quick flash of pain radiated out from her stomach.
"And stop angrily saying shit under your breath. What are you? Five years old?"
"I'm sorry," she said, blowing out a breath, "I just hate being like this. I hate being useless and being such a…burden on everyone. Just…I hate it all."
"Believe me, we hate seeing you like this, too. But you're not a burden, so stop being such a stubborn asshole, and let us help you. You do a lot for everyone, and it's time we return the favor. It's honestly the least we can do."
A lone wolf howl, followed by dozens more, interrupted anything she planned to say. In any other time, in any other circumstance, it would've been comforting. A greeting from an old friend. An update on the woods. But this time, the cacophony turned her veins to ice. What was going to happen? She thought the woods were safe that night, and that assumption almost killed her. If she was pulled into the woods now, she would not be coming back.
"Brick, wheel me around."
"But it's just O–"
"Brick, wheel me around." Without another word, he did as he was told and started to turn her. But it was too late. Okeer padded out of the woods, followed by several other wolves. More waited in the forest. "Get behind me," she hissed. Stupid, stupid to get this close to the woods. They should've stuck to the castle.
With a groan and a body that almost wouldn't cooperate, Adora clambered to her feet. One hand pressed against her tender abdomen and the other caught the Sword of Protection as she summoned it. She walked into almost every fight believing she would win. That belief felt paper-thin today.
"Do not be afraid," he called, "I will not hurt you." His blue eyes flickered to Brick. "I will not hurt either of you." She didn't lower her sword. "I cannot blame you for the extra caution." He drew closer, towering over both her and Brick. She-Ra was there, ready. But the stomach wound hindered her too. Okeer laid down in front of the pair and rested his gaze on Adora. "A wound that not even She-Ra can heal. These are strange times, indeed."
"King Okeer," she greeted with a small, but painful bow.
"Do not waste yourself on these pleasantries. Come, sit, my friend. We have much to discuss."
Adora did as she was told and sat back in her wheelchair. Good thing, too, because a collapse had been coming on steadily. But even as she sat, the wolf king did not speak. He just studied her quietly. Under his steady eye, she felt like an animal being carefully dissected in order to solve some great mystery. When the mounting silence became too much, she blurted out, "Did you see what happened?"
"No, but I heard it screaming. We all did." The other wolves nodded in agreement as they lounged around. Brick sent her a sideways glance. "And I saw the aftermath. I understand you had to defend yourself, but I have never seen anything like that. I have lived through many moons, Princess, and I have never seen a Spirit so…mutilated."
She looked at Brick, and he seemingly read her mind. "I'll be over there," he said before walking away.
When he was out of earshot, Adora asked, "You think I went too far?"
Okeer shook his head. "Think? No. I know you did."
"It tried to kill me. What else was I supposed to do?"
"There is defending yourself and there is annihilation. That Spirit cannot evaporate the waters and split the ground. Only you can do that, She-Ra. Do not forget how much power you wield. You must have restraint in all things."
Restraint. When didn't she have restraint? When wasn't she holding back? When didn't she stop herself from letting her mouth get away from her mind? When didn't she prevent herself from pouring out the contents of her thoughts? Right now, even, she restrained herself from saying something she shouldn't.
But there was something to his words, something suspiciously like the truth. Had her actions been strictly necessary? Did she match the creature blow for blow? Or did she far exceed what it had done, what it intended to do?
When she turned her attention back to Okeer, she caught him quietly assessing her. His blue eyes remained steady as they stared at each other. He nodded, seemingly to himself, before saying quietly, "I know you are angry, and I know that you hurt. And I know you cannot put that away so easily. And I am sorry. But you are She-Ra, and you must be better." He was right, of course. Standards were different for her, always had been. The high road was always expected of her, even in her dying breaths. Maybe that was suffocating to some, but it comforted her. Most of the time.
She was about to agree with him, but he continued on, "Some of the others speak as if you cannot be trusted. As if you would destroy the whole world. Do not prove them right by lowering yourself to that kind of violence."
"I would never do that. I mean, who do they think I am? I love Etheria, I left the Horde because of it. I saved it from Horde Prime. I wasn't even born here, but this is my home. Always will be." She pinched the bridge of her nose, willed a headache away. "I'm your She-Ra. And I won't forget that."
"I know, Princess Adora. And I am not forgetting that either. But I am not the only one whose opinion matters. I have spoken to some of the others, and they see something in you. Something dangerous, something that cannot be stopped. And to them you are easily recycled. What's one She-Ra to another? They want to deal with you when you can still be dealt with, and then restart the cycle. Waiting twenty years for the new She-Ra is nothing."
She took her eyes off Okeer and counted the wolves milling around. Seventeen in total. If he wanted, it could all be over quickly. "And," she said slowly, "what do you think?"
"I think you are better than that. And I know you are all individuals. Killing you might not kill She-Ra, but it would kill Adora. That matters, to me, at least."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. There are no words to describe how much I appreciate that. I can't bear the thought of leaving my family." His support meant a lot, of course, but it possessed limitations. His powers and his pack had not stopped the attack.
Over his shoulder, the trees of the Whispering Woods blew around lazily. Now they did not change to trap her, did not shift to grab. But never again would she mistake the woods for an ally, for a simple natural wonder. Looking at them now, she had to wonder: was anything looking back?
"I'm leaving Etheria for a while," she said, "Perhaps that's for the best."
Okeer nodded. "Perhaps."
…
Several Weeks Later
Only a thousand miles away, on a spaceship, had the truth began to soak in. In the short hallways, the cramped rooms, the captain's chair, it began to unfurl. Etheria had tried to kill her, tried to drag her into the long night. It came prepared and willing to kill. And what, exactly, did she do with that?
As it turned out, she ran. She ran to Inuva, ran away from home. She was good at this now—leaving everything she'd ever known. And more than that, she could do it quickly. Drop her comforts, abandon her home, all at a moment's notice. She lingered on this point too long. Stayed awake too many nights thinking about her tendency to run. Her instincts on this issue were terrible: she stayed when she should've left, she ran when she should've stayed. Naturally, she began to wonder about this trip. Perhaps this was the time to dig in, show Etheria she was its champion, no matter what. Instead, she headed for Inuva, and the distance grew. But maybe some distance was exactly what they needed. Or maybe not. But at least she had the distraction of the upcoming diplomatic proceedings.
Catra pretty much set this whole thing up. She'd made the arrangements with Inuva, she'd contacted Queen Evangeline's team, she'd pushed hard for the diplomatic trip. Publicly, she drove the point home that Queen Evangeline needed to be reckoned with. Privately, she argued that Adora needed off Etheria for safety reasons. Bow and Glimmer agreed, of course, and they left Etheria as soon as Adora was physically able. The trip would take a week and a half, and then they'd see about this Evangeline. The new Imperator. Whatever that really meant. Enthusiastic was a strong word, but Adora did feel a prickle of curiosity at finally meeting the illusive woman.
In the meantime, she walked the halls. Not alone, not in a small spaceship, but she walked it in silence, in her own thoughts. She felt the curious looks, the concerned ones, too. Glimmer liked to watch her with drawn down eyebrows and pursed lips. Catra always stopped to ask if she'd eaten, if she needed pain meds or a hug. Bow paused, a question forming on his lips before it died a silent death. She, too, opened her mouth, almost said something of substance. But she always stopped, always came up short.
Her inadequacies filled the spaceship. One-by-one, day-by-day they piled on and expanded out. Every time she could not dress herself, every time someone had to steady her, it acted as a reminder of her limitations. Their kids had that effect, as well. Before they left, Reyna took Adora's wound the hardest, at least outwardly. When she could not keep up with her daughter and tired easily, Reyna complained often and loudly. She dragged her tail, groaned and sighed. She was too young to get it, but every comment cut to the quick. If Adora could play tag with her, she would. So few times had She-Ra come between herself and their kids that she placed little stock into how the role could divide her from her children. Now she couldn't stop thinking about it. As she limped from room to room and endured dressing changes on her still-tender wound, her mind lingered on a question she couldn't quite shake: was being She-Ra worth it? A useless question, ultimately. There were no replacements coming, no breaks on the horizon. But these thoughts spun others: was she selfish for having a family? Should she have relinquished the dream of being a parent? Should she have turned Catra's marriage proposal down? Told her the truth—that she wanted something Adora could never give?
She had too much time on her hands, that much was clear. She wandered around like a ghost; she didn't sleep. Often someone asked what was wrong. And every time she couldn't answer them. How did she explain to Catra that she was falling apart? How did she tell Brick she'd run out of steam? When Glimmer looked at her for comfort, Adora had nothing left to give. Physically, mentally. In all capacities, she'd come up wanting. She couldn't keep up with Reyna, nor could she shoulder the knowledge that Etheria wanted her dead. In the quiet, in the peace, she disintegrated.
Strange how that happened. How she felt more put together in chaos than in peace. How her heartbeat steadily on when faced with a nearly insurmountable war, but faded as soon as she could rest. Perhaps she needed a fight or some sort of action. An overgrown machine fell apart. An unused sword rusted.
As the week wore on, Catra, Bow, and Glimmer must've worked out a schedule to babysit her. After those first few days, she was rarely left alone. They never said anything, but meetings were moved, and the inconveniences mounted simply to accommodate Adora. Why was she even here? She just slowed the work, worried her friends, burdened them. Sure, they needed a military advisor here to meet Evangeline, but there were many around. Good ones too. Better than Adora certainly. So why was she here?
That thought ensnared her one evening and wouldn't let go. She was She-Ra and, barring that, she was Adora. She didn't make people's lives harder, and she could carry her own weight. Nobody should be worrying over her, nobody should lose sleep trying to figure her out. She was making everyone's lives harder, burdening them with the things that chased her even into space. When she stumbled in from the forest, she'd bled out on everyone else with surprising gusto. And, she realized, it didn't stop when the healers stitched her back together. Here she bled out with the same sort of feeling.
Why was she here, on this trip? She disappointed Reyna, Brick, Sunny, Catra, Glimmer, Bow, and on and on and on. They should've left her at home and brought a team actually capable of pulling off these diplomatic meetings with Queen Evangeline. Catra shouldn't need to take time out of her day to help Adora get dressed or pause an afternoon meeting to remind her to take a pain management potion. It was humiliating in a million little ways. The Princess of Power, by definition, was supposed to be powerful. Yet, here she stood, diminished in all ways and utterly undeserving of both her title and duties.
She paced, minutes, hours, who knew how long? She hadn't felt like this since the shattered sword, but then she could still walk properly. A piece of her remained wholly intact and she had only begun to appreciate what a gift it was when Adora stayed even as She-Ra dimmed. Maybe this pain went back further. As a child, as a teen, she stopped nothing. And back then she couldn't scream. She hadn't even felt like a person at times, let alone a person named Adora. But was there really much of a person to be? Thirty, forty, fifty years later and she still couldn't decide.
Who had taken her away from herself? Who hadn't? Shadow Weaver stayed the obvious villain. A part she played both well and terribly. With meticulous detail, with undying patience, she taught Adora piano. With an undercover shame that still did not stop her, she grew increasingly possessive. How could all of these things be true? And how could Adora both love and hate her adopted mom, her abuser, her caregiver and her betrayer?
Betrayal. An act that went from downright shocking to passively expected. It went from the rug getting pulled out from underneath her to a dismissive eye roll. But it all started with the first one. That essential relationship that had failed her in a million different ways her whole life. She wasn't protected and she knew that starting early. Knew it in her bones, her muscle, her very soul. And why not? She was a good child: she listened and did everything that was asked of her and didn't complain. And it was never enough.
That had stayed true her entire life. Always striving, and always failing in at least one key aspect. So which failure was next? Which waited for her down the road? At the idea of an ever-lurking disappointment, Adora sat in the room's massive windowsill. As an exterior room, it opened up into both the bleakness and wonder of space. At this particular moment, no star or planet passed by, and she was left to stare at the deep blackness that expanded infinitely outward.
The door hissed open, and she turned to watch Catra walk in with a plate carefully balanced in one hand. "We missed you at dinner," Catra said before sitting next to Adora. Dinner? She checked her watch, frowned. The hours had passed her by with frightening speed.
"I didn't even realize, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Catra said. She kissed Adora's cheek and handed over the food. As soon as Adora took that first bite, her hunger roared to life. Did she eat anything today? She couldn't remember. "We need to call the kids soon."
"Of course," Adora said between bites, "Do you think they're doing okay with their grandparents?"
"I'm positive. Your parents know what they're doing. So don't worry, okay? We'll be back in no time."
Adora nodded, somehow both comforted and more nervous than ever. She missed their kids, missed their silly jokes and their antics, missed how they made even the worst days something to cherish. But the idea of returning to Etheria made the bread in her mouth turn to ash. The muted colors of the room drained further. Her limbs became heavy and some part of her craved a one-way trip to Inuva. Adora set the rest of the food aside, unable to choke another piece down into her rolling stomach.
The whole time Catra watched her. She did so quietly but with a thoroughness that only her wife could pull off. "I'm worried about you, Adora."
"Don't be, I'm healing up alright," Adora said with a shrug, "With the spells and everything, I'll be healed in a week or two."
Catra pawed at her hand before interlacing their fingers. "That's not what I really meant." They looked at each other, separately. How long had they done anything separately? It was always 'we.' Their children. Our cottage. But tonight, they looked at one another from different understandings, different stations in life. The foot of difference between them felt like a million.
But Adora was not alone. She'd done a lot of damage in her life by keeping her distance, by politely refusing any kind of vulnerability. She was not a lot of things that she probably should've been. But there was little doubt that she possessed some forms of bravery. So, she took a breath, said the truth. "I am a terrible She-Ra, Catra. There's no distance we can travel that will make that less true."
Catra cocked her head and ran her thumb over Adora's knuckles. "I'm always so surprised by the shit that gets to you. Not because you don't have every right to feel the way you do, but because it doesn't seem that way to anyone else. We're very lucky to have you as our She-Ra. Honestly, I think about that all the time. What would've happened to me, the Horde, everyone, if you weren't such a good person?"
"Maybe," Adora said, turning to look out the window, "Or maybe someone else would've handled it all better. Maybe they wouldn't have left you behind like I did. Or fallen for Light Hope's bullshit. I mean, the list goes on and on. I wish I was better than I am, but I'm not. Even Etheria knows it. And now I'm just dead weight on this ship. You all should've gone on this trip without me."
"Is that what you've been doing out here? Stewing and making yourself feel terrible?"
"It's basically a hobby at this point," Adora said, helpless to stop the small smile spreading across her face, "But I'm not wrong. Etheria tried to kill me, and it was no accident. It's trying to get rid of me. And I'm starting to understand why."
"You mean the same part that made animals claw their own eyes out? The same part that tried to kill Finny? There is something wrong, Adora, and it's not you. In fact, it makes perfect sense that the diseased side of Etheria would try to take you out. Then who would oppose its fucked up agenda? If you were gone, who would stop it?"
Hmmm, that did make some sense. Perhaps if she hadn't seen the hatred in the beast's eyes, heard the conviction in its tone, she could be convinced that the attack was about something other than simply stopping Adora from wreaking havoc. But she had been there, had felt its directed hatred. There was no mistaking its true intention, but how could this be properly explained to Catra? "Maybe," Adora said, "I hope you're right." She glanced out the window again, hoping the view had changed. It hadn't. "Do you remember the fights I used to get into?"
Catra grinned. "I do. And I seem to remember that you won almost every single one."
"I did," Adora agreed. She wanted to go on, explain how a Horde laundry room kept her up at night. But she couldn't. Catra admired her, and there was nothing admirable about her actions that day. Piece-by-piece, it began to come together in her memory; her hot, sweltering temper mimicking that merciless summer.
"You're as bad as the kids trying to tell a story. Where is this going?"
Careful not to tweak her wound, Adora shifted in the windowsill so her legs bracketed either side of Catra. Her shoulders were broader than Catra's by a wide margin. In fact, she dwarfed her wife in almost every way: height, weight, muscle mass. So when Catra laid back against her chest, Adora could wrap around her with ease.
She put her chin on Catra's shoulder and pressed her face into the side of Catra's cheek. Breathed her in. Catra might understand this. She certainly had a better chance than anyone else. She knew the insanity the Horde could bring out within you, how your blood electrified and up became down and down became up.
"Do you remember Year Seven? We would've been twelve or thirteen."
"Not too much, honestly," Catra said, "I remember that Rogelio hit puberty and grew like two feet."
Adora nodded, that did indeed happen. But that wasn't her point. "It was a bad year for me. I was really…messed up. And I'm having nightmares about it."
"Messed up how?"
Adora closed her eyes and tightened her grip around her wife. Catra's breathing quickened and she placed her hands over Adora's. "I, ummm, I was so angry. I always had a temper, but I couldn't control it that year. Maybe wouldn't. I fought all the time, I went too hard during training. A feeling I now recognize as hatred started to bloom within me. I think I wanted to hurt Shadow Weaver, but I couldn't. So I ended up hurting everyone else. And I did it so well. Everyone else was still coming into their bodies, but I was hard muscle at that point. And it showed. I broke noses, I put people in the med-bay. I was so fucked up." It was all so hazy, that year. She stumbled from thing to thing, her worst instincts bubbling just beneath the surface. Her knuckles were always bruised and soon to be bloody. If Hordak didn't know her previously, he certainly knew her that year. She should've been punished, should've been stopped, but it was the Horde, and fighting prowess got her more commendations than almost anything else she did. As her notoriety grew outwardly, everyone knew not to cross Adora. She dominated in every contest, often by using more force than necessary. Shadow Weaver always saw Adora as the next successor to Horde leadership; that year, Adora earned it.
"I don't know how I could've been that person, and still been chosen as She-Ra. I mean, which one is the real me? The one that broke jaws? Or the one that can heal people with a touch? I don't know if I can be both."
Catra remained silent for a moment. Adora's heart jumped into her throat, thundering its way to a panic attack. Was she too honest? Or not honest enough? "We are not our worst moments, Adora," Catra said, "I would be in deep shit if that were true. And besides that, you were just a kid. Kids make mistakes, that's just a fact of life. Maybe you went too far that year. But you see that now. You recognize that you need to be better. And you are. You are. You're still my hero. My disgustingly idealistic hero that has changed everyone's life for the better. I know you doubt that, but it's true. And I'm so glad that you're here. No one but you thinks that you're a burden, okay?"
Adora nodded against her face. Catra sounded like she meant every word she said, which was good because someone had to think that way about Adora and she certainly wasn't going to do it for herself.
Fingers glided over Adora's cheek and then tangled in her hair as Catra reached backwards for her. "You've forgiven pretty much everyone else in the universe for multitudes of mistakes, I think it's time you forgive yourself."
"Everyone else is easy," Adora said, "No one else has been as cruel to me as I have. No one else has even come close to disappointing me quite like I have."
"How have you disappointed yourself?"
Adora couldn't stop herself from laughing. How hadn't she disappointed herself? "When I first learned I was She-Ra, I thought I'd be the…I don't know, the moral compass of Etheria? Me, the successor to the Evil Horde's throne. Me, the kid who beat someone so badly I sent them to the med-bay when I was twelve years old. I thought I could be a great She-Ra and restore the position to its former glory. It was a teenager's dream. I see that now. But someone else could've done better, I think. I hate so many of the things I did. And I hate so many of the things I didn't do. But I'm not sure I was in any position to make better decisions. I wasn't the right choice, and Etheria just realized something I've known for thirty years."
Seemingly rendered speechless, Catra turned around in her arms and looked Adora in the eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"I do."
"Adora…I don't even know what to say."
"That's okay," Adora whispered before leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, "Neither do I."
Catra shifted so her cheek laid flat on Adora's chest, and she could snuggle up under Adora's chin. Adora rubbed her hands up and down one of Catra's arms. Some time passed in silence. Which was fine. They did silence well. She couldn't stand being silent around most people. She always had to be talking about something lest the specter of awkward pauses visit them. But not with Catra. Her wife, her exception to every rule.
"I guess I remember a little of that fucking awful year," Catra murmured, "I watched you get into so many fights, and I heard about all the ones I missed. I think we fought too. Nothing physical, but we argued a lot. Why were you so angry that year? What changed?"
"Me. I changed. I hit a wall, and I kept on hitting it. I was so tired. I remember laying in bed for hours every day. Me, who always had to be doing something. I couldn't take it anymore. The Horde. The abuse. Everything. And there was nowhere to go." She scrubbed at her face. "I should've taken you and run right then. That was the time to do it. And I didn't. I didn't. I'm sorry for that, Catra. But I was too weak to do what I had to, and I'll always regret that we stayed there for years after that."
"You were twelve." Catra tucked a piece of blonde hair behind Adora's ear. "It wasn't your responsibility to rescue us. We did what we had to to survive. It was the adults in our lives that let us down."
"Not just them," Adora said, "I let you down. I let you down a lot. I wish I was someone else. I wish I was the type of person who could've saved us. I want to be that person more than anything. And I'm sorry that I'm not."
"You are, though. That's what you're not seeing. You are that person and you deserve to be She-Ra, okay? In the Horde, no one else bound my injuries every single time. Every single time, Adora. No one else found me on the bad days and sat with me. No one else looked after me, cared about me, loved me." At that, Adora pressed a kiss to the top of Catra's head.
More quietly, Catra added, "Do you remember that first night we had together? Just hours after we defeated Horde Prime? You were so fucking exhausted. I remember being in the bathroom of our Bright Moon room, and how you swayed into me when I kissed you. Your tattoo still glowed, and your hands shook when you brushed your teeth. But I think I really knew how spent you were when you turned and said, 'Catra, I am so tired.' I can count on one hand how many times you've ever admitted that. And for some fucking reason that I still can't understand, I complained about the beds. One was too small, one was comically soft. And I was just being an asshole about it. So, you made this nest for us. On the ground. You pulled a bunch of covers and blankets and pillows off the surrounding furniture, and made a little bed on the floor. And I tried to sleep on a chair or a couch or something…" Catra ran her knuckles over one of Adora's cheeks. "I really don't know why I was being so difficult. But I was. And you asked me to come over and be with you. That you were so happy I was in Bright Moon, and that you wanted me to feel safe. After everything I did. After I was an asshole about the beds. After all that, you still made us that nest. You still made me feel so loved."
Adora did remember, maybe not in such detail, but she remembered that exhaustion she couldn't sleep away, and the love that caught her half-way out of this world. She remembered shuffling closer to Catra, asking if that was okay, and draping herself over Catra in an attempt to make up for the three years separation. She remembered falling asleep and explaining in her drowsy haze how she could breathe again. "You were loved," Adora said, "You are loved. It's honestly that simple for me."
The way Catra looked at her right then could've convinced the most hardened criminal that they had done no wrong in their entire lives. The accompanying kiss didn't hurt anything, either. When they pulled away, Catra continued by adding, "And when Finn and Reyna were babies, I remember how you used to get up with me and make me something to eat while I fed them. Every single time. I've come home some days when one of the kids were sick and watched you take care of them. And that's just us, that's not counting our friends and strangers. I don't know what Etheria's angle is. But if it thinks you're anyone but the kind, self-less, amazing person that I know you are, it's wrong."
Adora couldn't speak past the lump in her throat, so she just nodded her thanks. With her sleeve, she wiped at the few tears escaping down her face. Catra believed every word she'd just said, so why couldn't Adora? The answer came easier than expected: because she knew herself beyond her actions. She tried to do the right thing, but she arrived there with hot-headed thoughts, with barely restrained words. Coiled fury waited for her in every room, every house, and every hallway.
Catra stretched up and laid her head against one of Adora's shoulders. Her mismatched eyes watched, and it wasn't hard to be seen. "I wish you'd believe me."
"Me, too," Adora said. Their shared silence again.
Catra found one of her hands and slid their fingers together. A perfect fit. "What can I do to help?"
What could be done? What could turn the truth into something more palatable? Short of a time machine, she had no idea. But a weight did lift after talking, she could breathe a little easier. A miracle, all things considered. "You're helping by just being here," Adora said.
…
One Day Later
"Catra said I'd find your sad, sulky ass over here."
"She used those exact words?" Adora asked, turning towards Sunny with an arched eyebrow.
"Well, maybe not quite." The scorpioni moved closer to where Adora sat. She lightly smacked her black lipstick clad lips and tapped her pincers together rhythmically. Sensing something weighed on Sunny's mind, Adora waited for her to continue. "Brick told me to come talk to you and since I can't say no to that man, here we are."
"Brick had to convince you? I don't bite. Promise."
"Ya, well, it's just I feel like I know what you're feeling right about now. And all that touchy-feely stuff, well, it makes me feel a little nervous, you know?" Adora nodded. When had anything not made her nervous? "How to say this? How to say this?" Sunny muttered. "I'm the spare, you know?"
"The spare?" Adora asked.
"I was born as the backup. Flora's the heir and I'm the spare, as they say."
Was she missing something? "Who says that?" Adora said, standing. She wasn't at a hundred percent, but she could still put up a fight.
"Okay, geeze. No one says it, but like everybody says it."
Now she was definitely missing something. "What?"
"Never mind. Anyways, I get not feeling like you'll ever be enough. I will never rule over Arachnidus. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. And there's nothing I can do about that. And because Flora is the heir, she gets all the attention. Which she deserves, of course. I love my sister, she's amazing, but I'm just kinda…there. I'll never do enough. And that's something I've known my whole life."
She placed her hand on Sunny's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry you feel that way. No one should ever feel like they're not enough. Have you talked to Catra about what you're feeling? She's felt similar, I think."
"Yes, we've talked a couple times. And she absolutely gets what I'm saying. But I think you do, too."
Adora dropped her hand and turned towards the room's window. Did she understand? Not in the same way. She wasn't second place to anyone in her entire life. She was never the runner-up, the sidekick. And she never would be. But she also never impressed Shadow Weaver permanently. She'd reach an accomplishment, and her attention immediately turned to the next thing that needed to be done. Who she was had never impressed…really anyone. Maybe Catra and the kids. Definitely not Etheria, it seemed.
"I…I suppose I do. I've been scrutinized a million times over. There are books analyzing my every action and choice. And there should be. I don't deserve to be She-Ra if I expect to go unchallenged. Power shouldn't work like that. But that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that I've read a ton of these books. And one thing has always stood out to me while reading them: I'm defined by the things I'm not. That struck me because I think of myself like that, too. It's just…" Adora's eyes slid over to Sunny and she stopped talking. This child, her apprentice, did not deserve the nitty gritty details of Adora's lifetime of inadequacies. Adora supported her, mentored her, listened to her problems. This relationship needed to be one way. "Anyways, thank you for sharing. And for the record, I think you're an excellent apprentice. I know we haven't known each other well for very long, but I am constantly impressed by you. If you put the time and effort in, I think you have a great career ahead of you."
"If I can stop myself from following you into super fucked up forests."
"Ahhh, yes, well, there is that. But I'd be worried if you didn't make stupid decisions here and there."
"Happens to the best of us?" Sunny offered.
"Happens to the best of us," Adora confirmed. Happened to the worst, too. Adora would know. "I made a ton of mistakes when I was your age. Eighteen and fresh out of the Horde. War at the door. I thought I was a good guy, and then that turned out to be a lie. I had as much power as I do now, and basically zero training with magic. It was a recipe for disaster."
"Damn, and I thought I had problems."
Again with the oversharing. Shadow Weaver did this, relied upon Adora for emotional support. A child, and worse, a child in her care. As a kid, she thought knowing Shadow Weaver so well made her special. Now as an adult, she understood that she'd been promoted to parent way too early. Adora had been the parent, the spouse, the whatever to someone who was supposed to be her mom. Adora wouldn't make the same mistake with the young people she'd been charged with. "How's it been? Being away from your moms? You coping?"
"More like thriving," Sunny said flatly. Adora raised an eyebrow but let Sunny fill the silence. "I've always wanted to get away from them. And Flora, if I'm being honest. Here are these two Princesses, rulers of multiple kingdoms, and their heir. And then there's me. The afterthought. And I've always wanted to escape that. And now I sorta have. But it's not as fun as I thought it would be. And I would never say this to my parents' faces, but I kinda miss them. My mom's stupid hugs, and my other mom's stupid flower crowns."
"Of course you miss them. That's your family, and your home. There's no shame in that."
"Did you miss the Horde?" Sunny asked, "When you first left?"
"At first? Hmmmm, it's hard to remember what it was like. But yes, I missed it. It was a nightmare, but it was home. And the only family I'd ever known was there."
"You mean Catra?"
"I do, but I had other friends, too," Adora said.
"Well, why didn't they come with you? Surely they saw that the Horde was evil. Why weren't they convinced by you? I mean, you're fucking She-Ra, what other proof did they need?" Issue was, she was Adora too. Strange how that little detail got in the way of so many things.
"Sunny, I…didn't go back. I never explained to them why I left. Actually, I did talk to Catra, but I framed it all wrong. And I never went back for the other cadets. So I never got the opportunity to tell them, and they never got the opportunity to listen."
Sunny drew her eyebrows down, frowned. "Why not? You probably could have, right?"
Adora tried not to smoke on spaceships because the air scrubbers had to work ten times as hard to maintain the air quality. That put more strain on the engineers, the parts…the list of things affected went on and on. As a general rule of thumb, she never wanted to make things more difficult for everyone else. But the craving came quick, and it came strong. Relief didn't begin until she'd pulled a cigarette out and lit up. She watched the smoke float upwards and then get sucked into a filter along the ceiling. She puffed a few times, hoping Sunny would move onto some other topic, but the young woman waited. It was Adora's fault probably, for always extolling the virtues of patience.
"People in situations like Catra and I were in don't act like you think they would. Like they probably should. I should've gone back. That has always been true, and I have to live with the fact that I didn't for the rest of my life. But I started to run, and I just kept on going. I got out of there, and I couldn't go back. We can talk about should all day. I should've done a lot of things that I didn't do. But I couldn't. I was in a cage for so long, and I wasn't going back in. It sounds pathetic and weak, and it is, but it might be the only thing I've ever done for myself."
Sunny nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Finally, the scorpioni said, "I don't think I get it."
"Me neither." At that, they both laughed and she took another drag of her cigarette. The air filters hummed with mechanical strain, and Adora couldn't find it in herself to care.
…
Was this a dream? A strange thought almost anywhere, but it felt especially strange in front of a mirror, brushing her teeth. It was too early to be feeling like this. Existential crises were best left to at least after breakfast. So, she pushed her dreamy thoughts away and resumed brushing. A full day of training awaited them, and she'd be late if she lingered here too long.
She straightened out and looked back in the mirror, but someone else looked back. She whipped round, toothbrush still half hanging out of her mouth. With her fists up, Adora growled, "Who are you?"
The much older woman raised her hands as her striking green eyes widened. "Just a friend. We've met before." Now that she mentioned it, she did seem familiar.
"Where?" Adora asked, lowering her fists a little, "What unit?"
Triumphant cheers interrupted whatever the woman was about to say. Lonnie, Catra, Kyle, and Rogelio raced through the doors to their barracks. Lonnie led the charge with papers raised far above her head. Adora waited for them to comment on this newcomer, to narrow their eyes, and interrogate her presence, but all four simply passed through her on their way to Adora.
"What the…?" Adora rubbed her eyes. Had they…had they just floated through this woman? Gone through her like she was nothing? Didn't they see her?
"Look what we found," Lonnie said, waving the papers directly in front of Adora's face.
"They're letters all about you," Catra added, "We found them in Hordak's stuff."
"What?" Adora snatched them away from Lonnie. "How could you be so stupid?" In her hands, she held months worth of latrine duty, whippings, fewer rations, and who knew what else? "Go put these back before he notices, or we're all in deep trouble."
"He won't notice," Kyle said, "They were in his trash." With a hint of pride, he added, "Rogelio saw they had your name on them so we grabbed them before trash collection could roll through."
"Trash…?" What had she done to deserve her files ending up in the trash? She brought the papers closer, began to read.
Dear Lord Hordak,
I am writing to you today regarding Shadow Weaver. I have observed that she has boundary issues with some of the cadets, most notably Cadet Adora. What she does goes far beyond anything that could be considered corrective punishment or healthy interest in a promising cadet. Please advise on how to proceed.
May the fires of war light our path to victory.
Force Captain Stryfer
Adora gulped, glanced up at her friends. "Did you read these?" She demanded.
"Some of them," Catra said, eyes shifting sideways towards the other cadets. Their excitement died with the same speed it arrived. She should've felt guilty at killing the fun, but she actually just wanted to throttle each and every one of her meddling teammates. This was private, this was her lonely burden. Shadow Weaver had been nothing if not diligent in her messaging: 'This is yours alone to carry or your whole life will unravel.'
So she stood at a crossroads. She could just throw the papers out, head to training, and never talk about any of this again. Or she could read and start blending realities. She looked at her friends then, wondered if they realized the magnitude of what they'd stumbled upon—the Horde's harsh underbelly, normally cloaked in shadow, now coming into the light. They all had their own secret little slice of it, and they'd selfishly peeked into hers. Yet they wanted answers, so she kept reading in an effort to provide them.
Dear Lord Hordak,
As you may recall, I have written about my concerns regarding Shadow Weaver and her conduct with cadets. I am suspecting inappropriate contact that has the potential to weaken the resolve and readiness of our cadets. Please allow me additional time and resources to properly investigate.
May the fires of war light our path to victory.
Force Captain Stryfer
She flipped through a few more letters. But where was Hordak's reply? His authorization. His attempt to save Adora? In all these papers, where was it? She flipped through them again. All 'Dear Lord Hordak' and no return letter. So he hadn't seen these or he didn't care? Which one?
"What are you looking for?" The older, black-haired woman stepped through Lonnie. Lonnie who was halfway through a word, Lonnie who now stood completely frozen. An earlier thought came back: this was a dream.
"He–he had to have done something. He just had to let Stryfer investigate. That's it. It would've taken one letter. That's all. It has to be in here." Adora shifted through more papers until she landed on one with a different header.
Force Captain Stryfer,
Your request for further observation of Shadow Weaver has been denied. Return to your duties.
Lord Hordak
She checked the date—it'd been written a year after Stryfer's first letter. A whole year he knew and didn't care. And then his answer was a single, lackluster line that failed to protect Adora. What a joke. What a fucking joke. "I thought he didn't know. I didn't think anyone knew. I hoped nobody knew. What am I supposed to do with this?"
The muscles in the black-haired woman's jaw twitched. She reached out for the paper in Adora's hands and did a quick scan. Not like there was a lot to read. Not like Hordak provided any substance, any reprieve. She folded the paper in half and clutched it behind her back before looking back at Adora. The juvenile thought of taking it back raced through her mind. That was hers, or it should have been. She hated that the rest of the team read the papers, she didn't need someone else poking around her life. Adora opened her mouth to demand it back, but the black-haired woman beat her to it.
"You were failed on so many levels, Adora. I'm sorry." Was she right? Is that what this meant? That multiple people had all the opportunity in the world to save Adora, and not one could be bothered to help? And not just anyone, but Hordak. The very top. The very Horde itself. "It was like that for me, too. The abuse was the worst kept secret in the whole academy, maybe the whole planet. Everybody knew and didn't do a damn thing. Worse, they covered it all up. Made excuses. And that might actually be the worst thing. One person being a monster is the luck of the draw, but a whole institute? The many supposedly good people turning a blind eye? It drives me fucking crazy even thinking about it."
"So I wasn't good enough for anybody?" Adora leaned against the sink, looked at her frozen friends then back to the woman. "No one found it in themselves to rise to the occasion on my behalf? I wasn't worth saving? I mean, what's wrong with me?"
"Wrong with you?" The woman said while raising her eyebrows, "You're not the problem, okay? All these other fuckers are. This whole hellhole is to blame, but never you. Never you."
But that wasn't true, was it? If Adora was a better student, maybe it would all be okay. Or a better soldier. Or a better friend? How about a better follower? Could she turn it all around? Go back to the beginning and start again? She wanted all the noise to stop. Wanted it more than anything. But a strange thought came, somehow both old and new—It did not stop and it never would.
"Listen," the woman's voice jolted Adora back to the barracks, back to the stuffy, stale smell of the room, back to Catra and the rest of her squad. "I know we're in a different time and place, but I need to know, are you okay? Are you still alive? Please, Adora. I need to know."
Adora looked down, but everything seemed to be in the right place and in working order. "What are you talking about?"
The black-haired woman took another step forward until she practically towered over Adora. She grabbed Adora's shoulders and said, "Try to remember our last conversation. We were at a whipping and—"
"Get away from me," Adora said, twisting out of her grip, "I don't know you." But she did seem familiar. She did invite some level of comfortability. But from where? Another thought came back—this was a dream. But like a rope sliding through her clumsy hands into the waiting depths below, that thought dissipated into the murky recesses churning beneath her skin.
"Adora, please—"
She woke up to the mechanical whir of the engines propelling them steadily through space. Beside her, Catra snored louder still. She sighed and deflated against the bed. A bed so functional and aesthetically displeasing, it could've been in the Horde.
But what about those letters? She hoped her mind would forget them when waking, but they remained. She appreciated them for what they were: an honest attempt to save her. But she also saw them for what they turned out to be: an attempt that went nowhere. And they demanded she take a wider view of the Horde. Isolated incident no longer acted as a defense. Single perpetrator didn't tell the whole story. If Hordak knew, others did too. And what did she do with that? Her whole home worked against her. How many friends, mentors, and teachers spent day after day with her, knowing, and doing nothing? But how could she blame them when she herself did nothing? She never spoke up, never tried to stand up for herself, or Catra, or anyone else. So, really, she was just as guilty. She let it happen. What kind of She-Ra did that? What kind of hero? One she didn't want to know, much less be. And yet here she was, herself all the same.
It took a village to raise one up, and it took one to take her down. The Horde's disease ran rampant, traveled all the way to the top, and she'd traded its complicity for Etheria's. Neither the Horde nor Etheria could claim she'd been the victim of a lone wolf. The Horde, and its legion of soldiers, nourished the conditions needed to abuse a child with impunity. Etheria did little to stop the attack. She'd trusted these systems, been born into them with a child's reliance. And they let her down. Repeatedly. So, there was no perfect world, no guaranteed ally, no one coming to save her. And if that was true, what was worth fighting for? A better world, she supposed. But what did that even look like? As it turned out, she had no blueprint for what that could be. Worse still was a creeping belief that she could do little to change it by virtue of being herself. The wrong person at the right time. Catra could argue this point all she liked, but Etheria had tried to rid itself of her like a body killing an infection.
She shifted onto her side, sending a spasm of pain through her. She'd forgotten about her unhealing wound and its unruly, selfish nature. How it placed limits on her apparently limitless self. Why wouldn't this thing just heal? But she could wonder and get angry and feel frustrated all she wanted to. That wasn't going to change anything, and it certainly wouldn't heal her up.
She closed her eyes, tried to ignore an idea constantly flicking at her brain. But every time she pushed it away, it came back harder—'You are not the right person, and that has always been true.' When she finally did find sleep, it came with the gentle mercy of a dreamless slumber.
…
They arrived atInuvain the middle of the week, right on schedule. They'd used Inuva as neutral ground before, but they'd known the various groups and interests beforehand. They'd never gone in so blind before, the proceedings relying on rumour rather than facts. Catra hated that, hated going in with a disadvantage, but she always forgot one crucial thing that Adora remembered—no one else in the galaxy was as good at this game as Catra. She ran circles around other diplomats, thought of things hours before anyone else, was always ten steps ahead. Knowing what she knew about Catra and her capabilities, Adora found herself surprisingly relaxed about this whole thing. All she had to do was translate and offer her counsel on the military side of things. Catra had the hard part, and there was no one else in the galaxy that Adora would rather have that responsibility. While getting ready for the first meeting, she told Catra as much.
"You're my one-woman cheering section," Catra said, pressing a hand to Adora's chest and leaning in for a kiss.
"Not true at all." Adora leaned her forehead against Catra's. "I'd like to think I'm your favorite cheerleader, but I'm certainly not the only one."
"Depends on the day."
"What depends on the day?" Adora asked.
"If you're my favorite cheerleader or not," Catra rasped.
"How's today looking?" Adora drew her into a hug, causing a little protective fire to start in her chest. Not that Catra couldn't protect herself or others, but it felt good to be relied upon for support.
"Today's looking pretty good, especially if you keep hugging me like this," Catra murmured against her chest. They stayed like that too long for the many responsibilities they carried, and yet too short for their own liking and comfort.
"Speaking of looking pretty good, how do I look?" Catra asked before pulling away and turning in a circle. Adora shook her head at the genuine question in her tone. Like she didn't look immaculate, like she wasn't stunning. Didn't she see it? Adora did. She really did.
"Like we're going to be late." Catra's look of confusion turned into a smile and a tiny noise of delight when Adora pulled her close. Adora trailed her eyes down and all thoughts of the diplomatic proceedings disappeared. "So, so late," Adora muttered. Catra grabbed her tie, and yanked her down until their lips met.
When a guard knocked on their door, Adora's tie hung limply around her neck while her hand crept up under Catra's suit. Catra wasn't much better—she was halfway to getting Adora's belt off. They leapt off each other and just managed to not be completely exposed when he walked in. He opened his mouth to say something and then immediately froze as he took in their crooked diadems and unbuttoned shirts.
Disastrously, Adora spoke first. "We're, ummm, just putting on the finishing touches?"
Catra looked at her, mouth slightly agape, before she turned back to the guard. "Yep. Yes."
His wide eyes did not lessen as he looked between them. "Of course, Princesses. Sorry for interrupting." With great haste, he turned and left their room.
Once the door shut, Catra turned on her. "Really? That was your excuse? And did you really have to make that sound like a question?"
"I'm sorry, I panicked," Adora said, hands raised in surrender.
"Well, I guess now we have to be responsible adults who respect other people's time." Catra added under her breath, "Disappointing."
Adora laughed while retying her tie and tucking it back into her uniform. "I hate when we have to do that." Catra grunted in agreement. She waited for Catra to fix her suit, hair, and diadem before closing the gap between them once again. "But the day is still young." She brought her head down until she could feel Catra's breath on her face. "You never know what might happen." She hooked a finger around one of Catra's curls and stepped closer until they pressed against each other.
"Such a tease," Catra said, eyes flicking down to Adora's lips. But she got the last laugh when she brushed past Adora, her hips swaying dangerously and a grin firmly in place as she looked back over her shoulder. They were about three seconds from delaying this whole meeting until tomorrow. "Are you coming, Lord Commander?" Adora could only nod, her throat suddenly dry. Catra laughed and pushed the doors open, forcing Adora to try and be professional. Cruel. So cruel.
They met Bow, Glimmer, Brick, Sunny, and some other diplomatic officials in the hallway before being escorted to the meeting by armed guards. Armed wasn't necessarily unusual for castle guard, but it was certainly a choice someone had made. Her wound prevented any soaring thoughts of defeating all five guards, but they'd be hard-pressed to detain any of the Etherians without a fight on their hands.
One of the guards swung open the door to the meeting, and Glimmer stepped through first. Bow followed and then it was Adora. She walked through, turned her head, and there she was. Out of all the people in the universe, there she was.
Someone ran into her back, but Adora couldn't move. Someone coughed, politely but pointedly. But she still couldn't move. In no way was this real life. How did she slip into a dream without realizing? She rubbed her eyes and squinted. Perhaps her mind tricked her. But there she still stood—the black-haired woman from her dreams. In the flesh and looking right at Adora. She didn't seem surprised to see her midnight counterpart stopped in the middle of a doorway and gaping at her like a panicked fish. In fact, she smiled widely at Adora. Perhaps this was a one-way kind of thing. Maybe Adora's mind had borrowed the other woman's image for her dreams, and the actual black-haired woman had no idea who she was.
"Adora," Catra hissed under her breath, causing Adora to enter the room and take her place next to Bow with all the grace of a flighty foal. Something that resembled amusement flickered across the black-haired woman's face as she continued to look at Adora a beat or two longer than necessary.
"-Director General of Etheria's Diplomatic Service. Prince Brick, son of Queen Glimmer and—-" The announcer's voice droned on and on. She'd been through a million of these introductions before. Lots of talking, lots of bowing. But never had she been in a room with her…with her what? Her dream friend? Her subconscious manifestation of her festering trauma?
"-Princess Adora, Lord Commander of the Royal Military, and legendary warrior, She-Ra." Adora stepped forward and bowed. A terrible bow by all measurements. She should've cast her eyes down respectfully, but she maintained full eye contact with the black-haired woman. Did they know each other? Know their darkest moments? Their most wounding thoughts? Or were they perfect strangers? Spirits, please let them be perfect strangers.
With a flick of her cape, Adora stood and backed up into her place beside Catra and Bow. She could feel her every move being watched and cataloged by the black-haired woman. Her wound didn't stiffen her walk like it did a few weeks ago, but had she caught her weakness? Noticed her uneven gait? But her attention moved to the next Etherian with little indication as to her true feelings regarding Adora.
The introductions for the Etherians ended, and the Eternian ones began. She should've paid attention, paired faces with their names like she'd done countless times before. But she couldn't look away from the woman. Never, in all her life, would she have guessed that the black-haired woman was a real person. And even if she could've correctly guessed this, never would she have predicted this woman would show up at a high-profile diplomatic meeting on a distant planet.
The woman didn't stare back, but she did look at Adora more than anyone else on the Etherian side. Her green eyes remained calm, but warm. Her dusty blue dress hung to her ankles, and dipped enough at her chest to catch the eye but remain modest.
Catra bumped lightly into her side, causing Adora to look away for the first time in a long time. Her eyes widened into a familiar 'what the fuck are you doing?' look. Adora had hoped her stumbling, sputtering handling of this whole situation remained hidden to all but herself. Catra dashed that hope with a single look.
But when the introductions landed on the black-haired woman, Adora's concerns regarding her own social ineptitude evaporated. Who was she? And did she know Adora? Were they actually connected in their dreams? It couldn't be. Right? There was no possible way.
The black-haired woman stepped forward in anticipation of her titles being read. "...And Queen Evangeline, Eternia's Imperator, Queen to the Eternian Throne, Protector of the magical realm, Wielder of the Sword of Light, and Eternal Saviour of the good people of Eternia."
"What?" Adora muttered, only barely containing her words in a whisper. Evangeline waited in her dreams? Evangeline comforted her every single night? It couldn't be. Those were Adora's dreams, and hers alone. But it could just be the Queen's features that appeared, her mind copying them for whatever reason. Evangeline herself didn't actually have to be there. She didn't actually have to know Adora.
Catra knew better than to stare, but Adora could practically feel the questions radiating off her wife. The concern. If she acted weird one more time, it wasn't hard to imagine Catra calling for a recess. But it wouldn't get to that. She could be normal, or at least act like it. Hopefully, at least. The world still felt hilariously choreographed right now, and Adora felt appropriately disjointed.
The next step in the formal proceedings was a round of photographs. Each person from their respective sides would shake the hands of their Etherian or Eternian counterparts, and let the press have at it. All normal procedures and yet anything but. Adora stood to the side, counted the minutes and sweated the moments until she and Evangeline had their photo op.
When it came, Evangeline matched Adora's long, even strides as they moved towards each other. Camera flashes went off everywhere, all at once, but the two remained in graceful sync with one another. As soon as they were next to each other, Adora couldn't help but notice how Evangeline's piercing green eyes hadn't been exaggerated in her dream world. Her eyes seemed to take everything in, missing nothing, especially when it came to Adora. They stopped in front of each other, looked. Had they done this all before or was Adora really, truly losing it?
"Princess Adora," Evangeline said. She should've waited for Adora to greet her first, as was custom, as she'd done with both Catra and Brick. Was this a signal or a simple slip up?
"Queen Evangeline," Adora said, the name rolling off her tongue easily. She bowed and schooled the grimace trying to cross her face back into place. Catra always said not to reveal more than necessary at these meetings, and the Imperator certainly didn't need to know of her wound.
Adora stuck her hand out and Evangeline took it. They stood like that for some time, hand-in-hand, smiling, cameras going off every which way. Adora's hand was bigger, and she stood a little taller than Evangeline, but both differences were negligible.
"Thank you," a member of the press said, indicating that the next photo op needed to get rolling. Adora began to pull her hand from their seemingly forever handshake, but Evangeline held tight. Not wanting to bring any attention to themselves, Adora stopped and waited. What was this? Anyone else and Adora would've pulled her hand from her grip.
She looked at Adora for a second more before bringing their clasped hands to her lips. With all the chastity and respect becoming of a Queen, Evangeline kissed Adora's hand. A few more cameras flashed, but most of the press seemed disinterested. She looked at her friends—Brick whispered with Sunny, Glimmer readjusted her crown, Bow nervously buttoned and then unbuttoned his shirt sleeve. None paid her or Evangeline any attention. No one except Catra, who watched neither Adora nor Evangeline but their hands.
Evangeline released Adora's hand and stepped back politely. Adora did the same and reclaimed her spot by Catra. Catra and her narrowed eyes, Catra and her ever so slightly poofy tail. When they made eye contact, Adora shrugged. Maybe Evangeline did this with everyone else. But as the morning wore on, that idea fell increasingly into the wayside. Queen Evangeline didn't do it with anyone else. Not even Glimmer got a kiss on the hand. Evangeline remained perfectly royal, but her hospitality never once again extended into a kiss on the hand. And what did that mean?