Author's Note: Hey y'all, apologies for the delay again! I unfortunately had to have another surgery on my arm, and that put me behind with everything. Hopefully this chapter makes up for my delay.

Secondly, I want to emphasize the fact that pretty much every single tag appears in this chapter. So, please take a look at those and make sure you're okay with that content before proceeding. Specifically, the "Childhood Sexual Abuse" tag appears very prominently, so please take care of yourself and keep that in mind as you're reading. I will comment more on this at the end of the chapter if you're interested in some behind the scenes consideration.

Please enjoy!

Chapter 23: Almost

Evangeline looped their arms together, and led the pair down the staircase just in front of them. From a life filled with dramatic moments, Adora had come to recognize when something was indeed dramatic. This moment had to be up there. Two of the most powerful people in the entire universe descending shoulder-to-shoulder all to a cacophony of audience cheer. Had such a thing like this ever happened before? Not for at least a thousand years.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, the Queen kept her arm looped around Adora's and waved with the other. She greeted her people with a casual grace that couldn't be learned. Her easy smile and calm demeanor communicated something that Adora lacked. Something effortless and immensely charismatic. Adora had always pulled people into her orbit, for better or worse, with faltering confidence and undeniable skill.

"You do this so easily," Adora said, trying her best to keep up by waving herself.

Evangeline turned her head, a quizzical look on her face. "And you don't?"

Once the fan-fare died out, the pair made their way to a table filled with appetizers. Evangeline promised a full feast later, so this would have to satisfy Adora's insatiable appetite for the moment.

"Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren't She-Ra?" Evangeline asked.

Adora drummed her fingers against her glass. "Sometimes."

Evangeline nodded. "I think about it all the time." She took a sip of wine before continuing, "You'd be a fisher right now. You ever consider that? You'd be on a boat on the Emerald Sea day in and day out. I doubt you'd ever pick up a sword, I doubt you'd know violence beyond a stormy sea. I'm sure you'd marry some nice village girl and have four kids—"

"Four kids? Spirits. Where'd you pull that number from?"

Evangeline looked her up and down before saying, "You just seem like someone who appreciates a big family."

"Ya, especially if I'm not the one who has to give birth."

Evangeline laughed before her face settled into something serious, "So Catra had your kids? How do you feel about that?"

"Like it was our only option," Adora said before shrugging and taking a drink.

"What do you mean? You couldn't have them? Didn't want to?"

"It's not about wanting," Adora said, "You know that. Want has never been important with She-Ra. Sure, I wanted to have our kids, or even a kid, but there's no way I could have. Who knows what would happen if I had to become She-Ra during a pregnancy. And our kids aren't some experiment. I couldn't do it, I can't do it." Evangeline stayed silent and looked at something past Adora. She never looked past Adora, never couldn't see her, so Adora reached out and lightly touched her arm. The Queen jolted at the contact, sloshing red wine over her cup's rim and down her fingers. Adora watched the red splatter against the castle's white floor before she refocused back on Evangeline. "Everything okay?"

"Of course, of course," Evangeline said before running a hand over her black, braided hair. "Just fine." She smiled tightly.

"You must forgive me, I've been rude and only talked about myself. Do you have kids or a spouse or—?"

"You know, Adora, I think you would've made a fine fisherman."

Living and loving and eventually dying in a small fishing village sounded nice. She'd never travel more than fifty miles from her village and she'd never know the press of magic, its giving nature and its hungry appetite. But there would be other problems—the sea's uncontrollable anger and the never-ending catch. Only a fool would equate a simple life with an easy one. But this life was neither simple nor easy and she found herself craving for an almost life, one of many.

"You know," Adora said, "I think you're right."

"But that's the easy one. Let's do something harder, like what would your life be like if you hadn't been in the Horde?"

Adora gulped down her smooth, fruity wine. She surveyed the party and caught a glimpse of Catra laughing at something Brick said. So the Etherians must've joined at some point…and had yet to try and find her. Adora took another drink.

"I would have saved the world and married my best friend," Adora closed her eyes before continuing at a murmur, "And then we would've had two kids and we'd live in a quiet cottage. I'd see my closest friends every single day. I'd be the Lord Commander and I would oversee the finest military that Etheria has ever seen."

Evangeline laughed slightly before eyeing her with suspicion. "But you did all those things?"

"Ya, I did," Adora admitted, "But it doesn't feel like it."

Evangeline hummed as she leaned a bare arm against a solid column. Her sleeveless dress accentuated her arms' rippling muscles and the web of veins running just beneath the surface of her milk-like skin.

"I can hardly believe it sometimes when you talk," Evangeline started. She raised her hand to stop Adora as an indignant response began to pour from her. "I mean no offense. I just get what you're saying, utterly and completely. I saved Eternia from Horde Prime. Just barely, but I did. But it might as well have been someone else."

Adora nodded and took a bite from a quiche. What else was there to say, really?

She brought the quiche up again, preparing to take another bite when Evangeline grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Tragically, she dropped her quiche and she watched it roll under a table and into no man's land.

This had better be good.

Evangeline dragged her across the room, Adora none the wiser as to what was happening until they careened to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Spirits, give her a forest or an unbreakable curse, but not this.

Evangeline turned, offered her hand, and Adora walked away. The conversation in the room died once they'd moved inward from the party's outskirts. So by the time she realized what was happening, hundreds of people were looking and deciding what to think of her. She hated all these unknown eyes on her, appraising her, sizing her up. She wasn't in the mood. Why couldn't Evangeline see that?

The Queen caught her hand and held it tight. "Just one dance," Evangeline said, "It's the last one I'll ask for all night."

"You know, my therapist says I shouldn't be such a people pleaser all the time."

"And what did your therapist say about pleasing a Queen?"

Adora sighed and turned around fully. She looked down on Evangeline, hoping to look stern as she said, "One dance. That's it."

"More than enough." Evangeline grinned and nodded at the band. They must've known what that meant because a rousing beat exploded into the formerly quiet room.

Adora listened for a second or two. How did she know this song, and the accompanying dance? "I know this song and dance," Adora said, aware of how dumb the light amazement in her tone made her sound.

Evangeline chuckled. "We're sister planets, our cultures overlap more than you'd expect."

That…did make sense. With a sigh, Adora put her palm up and Evangeline mimicked the move so that their hands connected at just below eye level. As soon as the dance's starting note blared out, they stepped around each other with movement that fell and lifted with the music. Evangeline kept her eyes locked on Adora's as they prowled around each other. They were the only two dancers, the sole attraction for a room filled with people. The spotlight followed their every move.

The beat swung upwards, picking up in speed as the two picked up their pace. Adora hadn't listened and danced to this song for thirty years to not show off the fullest extent of her dancing prowess. Evangeline let her take the lead, so Adora swung her out and pulled her back in, delighting the crowd. They hadn't seen anything yet. Adora caught the Queen, who looked a little dazed at the move. "You're better at this than I thought you'd be," Evangeline breathed out.

"Gee, thanks." They resumed circling each other while touching palms.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"You can mean it however you like," Adora said, before dipping the Queen. She clung onto Adora's arms before being pulled up easily. They stood face-to-face, Evangeline panting slightly. "I love to prove people wrong."

"You know, I'm starting to realize that." Evangeline took an unexpected step back, forcing Adora to step with her. She never stumbled, but the steady rhythm she held skipped clumsily from Evangeline's unanticipated movements. "Something the matter, Princess?"

Adora looked up from their feet, only to find the face of perfect innocence staring back at her. "You do like to provoke, don't you?"

"Me?" Evangeline said, her free hand flying to her bare chest, "Never."

Adora twirled her around again, all while the beat increased steadily. Sweat trickled down her back. Hopefully it wouldn't show through her white uniform.

"You should burn it down," Adora said the next time they stood facing each other. Now they were both breathing heavily.

"Do you mean the old school?" Evangeline asked. How could she follow Adora's scattered thoughts?

"I do. There's nothing left for you there, just bad memories and ghosts. Why keep it around? It looms on the horizon. I can see it from nearly every room in the castle. Why are you doing that to yourself?"

"Same reason you kept a souvenir from the Horde."

Adora cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"That wife of yours, isn't she–?"

"One more word, Evangeline, and I'm leaving."

The Queen scanned her face, almost as if she searched for Adora's nonexistent bluff. After a moment, she sighed. "My apologies, Princess. I mean no disrespect."

"Yes, you do," Adora said, surprising herself with the venom in her tone. She spun Evangeline out with one arm only to reel her back in before dipping her low. "Nobody plays this game quite like you," she growled before pulling Evangeline back up.

"Grumpy today, aren't we? Did something happen?"

Adora rolled her eyes. "Cut the bullshit. Why don't you burn that fucking building down? Why let it stand?"

For the first time in a long time, Evangeline looked away. The muscles in her jaw worked, tensing and untensing, before she said, "Sometimes I need the reminder. Sometimes I forget how it hurt. Sometimes it's all a dream, and it all happened to someone else. But I can't forget who I'm here for. I never wanted to be Queen, but I will be. And I'll be the person who was never there for me when I needed it the most. So, I guess, I need the pain, Adora."

Adora grabbed the Queen by her hips and boosted her upwards. The pair spun in a slow circle as she soaked up the audience's applause. She couldn't make out anything more than Evangeline's flowing dress and a vague mass of people due to the spotlight's blinding light. It was kind of nice to be seen, but not to see. She was the Lost Imperator, she was She-Ra, she was this, she was that. But they were nothing. Not a people to save, not an agent of fate collecting its debt, not a duty to be accepted. Nameless, faceless, priceless. She'd never had a better audience.

When Adora finally set Evangeline down, they resumed stepping around each other, palm to palm. The song barreled towards the end, and they both knew it. "I had no idea you were such a good dancer," Evangeline said.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

"You think so?" The corners of the Queen's lips turned upwards into an almost smile. "I'd wager that I know you better than you think. How could I not? We're both the most powerful beings on our planets. And your Shadow Weaver is just like the villains of my childhood."

Adora grunted, earning an arched eyebrow from Evangeline. What more did she want? Some breathless agreement? Why bother? Evangeline knew she was right.

For the song's grand finale, Adora lifted Evangeline up once more. This time she held the Queen even higher. The crowd cheered and jeered them on, asking for more. Well, maybe one more song…

Adora began to lower Evangeline when she said, "I'm sorry she raped you, Adora. But, sadly—"

The world dropped out of orbit; the sea forgot its rolling, eternal ways. All the clocks stopped, and the North Star meandered away. The suns forgot all about setting, and the moons hung in one place.

She fell out of sync with the Queen. She let go mid-movement, sending Evangeline sprawling across the floor. She didn't care. She couldn't. Her muscles didn't work. How could they? Life was tilting perilously to the side, bleeding away in a steady stream.

Everything she had ever known had been thrown on the floor and shattered into a million little pieces. She couldn't fix it if she wanted to, and she didn't want to.

It wasn't like that. Shadow Weaver hadn't…She didn't…But had she? Was that what happened? Was that the word to use? The crime to unveil? The confession to choke out? Was it that truth that waited every night to come out of the darkness and step into her room?

Had Shadow Weaver's secret and Adora's shame been the ghost she couldn't shake, the haunting she couldn't escape?

How fucking dare Evangeline do this. Say that word, make it real. She liked her mask; it was functional. She'd never disappeared without a trace; she could do it now.

Adora took a jerky step back. She'd never felt so unpart of things. So different. She closed her eyes and smelt unmoving, stuffy air. That was unusual because it had just rained. Her eyes roamed over the shiny metal, and the walkways' rusted, dangerous ends. She'd cut herself once, while playing with Catra, and she'd needed a half-dozen shots to her utter displeasure. She heard footsteps outside the barracks and she straightened up. It was a boring day, a slow day, and she would never forget it.

"I have something to show you, Adora." Shadow Weaver held out her hand and she took it. Why not? As she was led away from the other cadets, Catra stuck out her tongue. Adora did the same. It was the last time she ever did that.

Adora is six then sixteen. Then she is eighteen and then she is She-Ra. She doesn't know where the time has gone, and she doesn't remember losing her faith in destiny. Probably it should've been a lot sooner. Probably, when she was six, and newly used, she should've realized that she had two options. The first was that if there was indeed some grand plan or sweeping destiny, it called for her rape. And if there was no destiny waiting for her, then the world, the Spirits, the gods, the whatever didn't actually care about her. So, which was worse?

The air doesn't move, it's unnervingly stuffy. She looks at the ceiling, wonders whether it's the gray or brown bar for dinner. Shadow Weaver stands over her, inspecting. "How about ice cream after this?" Shadow Weaver asks, "Would you like that?" Adora nods but she actually doesn't particularly like anything anymore.

The air doesn't move, it's unnervingly stuffy. Catra says, "Well, we can't all be Shadow Weaver's favorite." Adora laughs along with the rest of the cadets and then goes to throw up in the latrine.

The air is heavy and heated; the furnaces have kicked on for the building winter. She is in a closet with Catra, trying to catch her breath and looking over her shoulder to see if the door will click open once Shadow Weaver figures out where they're hiding. She stays still and listens, but there is no sound beside the omnipresent whirl of machinery. "I think we're clear," Adora whispers and turns back around. Catra is against the wall, positioned in between Adora's bracketed arms. She is looking and looking and not talking. Adora freezes. They are so close that she can feel Catra's breath on her face. Adora sees it then. How Catra wants something she cannot give, an intimacy she can't quite stomach. Why can't Catra see it? She is too shattered and too touched to be the person Catra wants her to be. Another pair of hands will unravel her for sure. She leans her forehead against Catra's and hopes it conveys everything she can't say. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

The air is brisk and refreshing. The curtains are billowing in from the breeze. Catra is on top of her, banged up from the almost-apocalypse, but clearly enjoying herself. She's kissing Adora's neck and purring. She leans back a little, stops her kissing, and stares at Adora for a second. With a little bit of reverence in her tone, she whispers, "Have you ever done this before?" Adora doesn't know what to say.

The air is clean and Adora is thirty-three. She's had another nightmare and Catra urges her to go to group therapy. She can't tell Catra no and, hey, maybe it'll work this time. But she knows it won't the second she walks into the school gymnasium. People are sitting in a circle and they turn to watch her. They can all do something she cannot—be known. She turns around and goes to a bar. Later, Catra asks how it went. "Fine," Adora says, "Just fine."

The air is almost too warm. It's riding the line between sleepiness and heat exhaustion. It probably doesn't help that they're crowded into the bathroom, hovering around each other and exchanging nervous glances. Then that little white stick gets two red lines and Catra is flinging her arms around Adora's neck. It took some time, and certainly some effort, but they finally did it. Pregnant. Adora gulps. Hopefully they can do better; be the people they needed when they were kids. She hopes and hopes and hopes.

The air is freezing, almost painful. Adora takes a deep breath and it burns so bad. She takes another. It's the winter and she should be inside. But she's gone for a run, forgetting what mile she's on and what time she started. She told the therapist about it all, used the word "rape." And then the therapist said it back, and she can't stand the word on someone else's tongue. It's not the truth when it comes from another person. She knows she'll cancel the next appointment, and the one after that.

Something heavy landed on her shoulder, and she was back in a ballroom without music. Evangeline stood before her, eyes wide and alarmed. Alarmed like she hadn't thought this through. Alarmed like she hadn't stopped to consider that they're not the same. Evangeline had never sunk to ruins, had never lost her voice. When she was whipped, she'd taken it on her feet. Adora couldn't say the same. Maybe Evangeline had found strength in her experience; Adora had never quite made it out.

"Don't fucking touch me," Adora hissed and stepped beyond Evangeline's touch. She looked around, embarrassment making her cheeks and her chest flame. The spotlight was off, the audience was real. Eternian nobles gawked at her, and awkwardly glanced at each other. Well, let them stare. Adora turned, heading away, walking out. She shrugged off another grip on her shoulder and sped for the door. She rubbed her sleeve across her watery eyes, and choked back a sob of pure frustration. How could she be crying like this? In front of all these people? She was fucking She-Ra and she'd let herself sink so low.

Catra moved to intervene, then Bow. She brushed past both of them, leaving behind a wake of hurt and confusion. It was selfish to march on, to silently weep, to offer no choking explanation, yet she couldn't stop herself.

She flung open a door, and ran into something–someone–so hard that she almost fell back. Through her bleary eyes, she peered up at a smiling human face. Sharp fangs and slit, cat-like eyes gazed down on her. Or…maybe not so human.

"Hello, Adora."

A blow to the chest sent her careening backwards and gasping for the breath that had been knocked from her chest. Adora slammed into a table, sending her spilling to the floor in an explosion of glass and wine and ale and finger foods. A lonesome sausage rolled past her face before she flopped onto her back and gasped for air and understanding. What the fuck was going on?

A clock's deep strum filled the air, then another clock's gong went off, then another. The noise was deafening, drowning out even the clinking and clattering of shattered glass under her. She brought up her hands to cover her ears, vaguely aware of the pool of alcohol and food turning red.

A woman, an older, striking brunette, came around the overturned table and sauntered towards Adora with swaying hips and a wicked smile filled with jagged teeth.

Shit.

Adora scrambled backwards, not caring about her palms slicing open or her uniform getting ripped. Come on, where was it? She closed her eyes, and envisioned the sword—her liberator and her protector. Would it come here? In this dimension, in this place? She got her answer when a familiar heft materialized in her hand.

"Oh, Adora, you have no idea how long I've waited for you. How long I've wanted. I saw your future as the Imperator, and I watched it crumble in a single instant," the woman said, keeping up her steady approach, "Time is such a strange thing. It is to be conquered, it is to conquer. It is mine to make, and, perhaps more importantly, it is mine to take." Her boots crunched through the broken glass. "You've been given so much, and yet you still wonder what it would be like if time had stopped on you. Had let you slip away. And all I can think is this: What an interesting concept."

Adora climbed to her feet and raised her sword. It glowed with First Ones' writing, as did Adora's skin. "I'm warning you," Adora growled, "Stay away." She'd never been more aware of the audience, of her soulmate's presence and her best friends' lives.

The woman laughed and the sword began to heat up. It flashed from uncomfortable to unbearable in an instant, causing Adora to jerk her hand away and let the Sword of Protection fall from her grip. It clattered to the ground, still glowing and utterly useless. She stared at it, then back to the woman's gloating face. Was this what losing felt like?

With an impossible speed, she grabbed Adora by her uniform's lapels and dragged her closer until their faces were inches from each other. "I know you can't go on, so I'll put you out of your misery." The woman licked her lips with a forked tongue. "You're out of time, Princess Adora. But I know the end could never come too soon."

Adora blinked, and the scene shifted. Bright, sickly green lighting washed everything aglow. The smell hit her first—that caustic, industrial scent that both burned her nose and marked the end of the world. She'd recognize it anywhere. "I know you wanted to die at the Heart of Etheria. And who am I to stand in the way?" The woman said from behind her, causing Adora to not only register her presence but also the presence of the entire audience from Eternia, including her friends. Wherever she was going, she wasn't going alone.

Green wisps of light, magic, and poison twisted into the air and converged into a shifting mass of shapes. Below laid two figures. Figures she knew well. Adora stepped forward, as did the Eternian audience. Her young, dying body laid in the arms of a youthful Catra. Jagged tendrils of green cut through her younger self's skin, drawing her further and further from life. She'd tried to describe this moment countless times over the years—the feeling of burning alive from the inside, of being cradled by Catra, of accepting it was all over—but she could never do it justice. Now, she wouldn't have to try.

"Adora. Adora, stay awake!" Her younger self's eyes fluttered open, but she struggled to cling onto consciousness. Her dull eyes appraised Catra, trying to convey something she had felt her entire life. The whole chamber thumped like a beating heart, standing in stark contrast to Adora's failing body and soul.

"I'm sorry," was all her younger self could whisper out between halting breaths. In hindsight, she'd apologized to Catra in a million little ways leading up to this moment, from her sweeping, vengeance-filled apology on Horde Prime's ship to her silent bandaging of Catra's injuries throughout their childhood. It was strange to think of this 'sorry' as the last one. But it might've been the most earned one. It covered their lost future, the life that would never be lived. Really, truly, Adora had never been more sorry in her life than when she was at the Heart of Etheria.

Young Catra cradled Adora's cheek, and she remembered the tremendous energy it took to cover Catra's hand with hers. Her last, leeching act of love. It was strange now to look back on this moment and remember what it felt like to think this was her last chance to touch Catra, to feel her presence and the relief that followed. Strange because they'd spent the past thirty years comforting and consoling each other, and this was far from the end.

Catra hugged her limp body, yelled at her to come back, but young Adora was drifting away, dreaming now, if her memory served her right.

"What was it he said to you?" The woman hissed in Adora's ear, "That there would be no future for you. Did he have that right? Do you want that to be the truth?" Did she? Adora looked at her twenty-one year old self, and found only pity for the things to come. She was going to learn the truth, bit-by-piercing-bit, of Shadow Weaver's misplaced affection. She would feel a hollowness every day of her life that the years had never cured. Knowing what she knew now, had anything really been worth it? "So be it," the woman said, though the scene didn't change.

"You can't leave me, Adora," young Catra whispered. "Please, you have to wake up." Adora was falling and falling, going somewhere she couldn't come back from. She remembered the feeling of loosening her white-knuckled grip on life, on letting go of the idea of ever coming back. The doorway she remembered, too, and Catra's pleading. "You can't give up." But why? At that age, at that time, she'd agreed with Catra. It all made sense. Of course she couldn't give up, but now she had to question that line of thinking. Why not give up? "You've never given up on anything in your life. Not even on me." But Catra was easy. Adora had always loved her, always believed in her to some degree. Adora knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she didn't feel the same about herself. Her usually inexhaustible faith had suddenly run out of steam. She'd run too many races, fought too many fights, and she just wasn't the same.

"Don't you get it? I love you," Catra whispered as tears streamed down her face. It wasn't hard to see why this worked that awful day thirty years ago.

She was supposed to start waking up. Catra's words were supposed to bring her back, inject some life into her dying body. But now she knew how this was going to end. She knew how things would divert, how the river changed its course. She would not die at eighty-five, she would die here and now. Something like relief cooled her overworked soul.

She'd raised a shield, then her head, before telling Catra she loved her too. She'd made a choice back then, and she'd just made one now. She'd stayed then; she let go now. Her suspicions were confirmed when the young Adora did not stir. The Heart of Etheria picked up speed and the wind howled so loud she could no longer hear what Catra said to her younger self. Green lightning sparked across the top of the room, sending rocks falling to the floor, and thunder crashing through the already deafening cavern.

She'd forgotten Catra. How could she have forgotten Catra? Her wife couldn't die here, too. She had a whole life to live, and so much love to give. The Heart of Etheria and some falling rock couldn't be the end. She grabbed the brunette's arm and hissed, "You must save Catra. Leave me, but you must save her."

The woman only turned her head, and her yellow eyes flashed with anger. "I must do nothing," she spat while yanking her arm from Adora's hold.

A twisting, hungry tendril of green came down from the ceiling, and shot into the young Adora's chest. Pain, like an old wound never healed or a shattered joint put together but never the same, caused Adora's chest to ache. Out of sympathy for her young self or a real echo from the killing blow, she couldn't decide.

Her younger self's body convulsed and her eyes shot open and then widened as she realized that these were her final, excruciating minutes. Blood began to pour from her mouth as her body continued its frenzied jittering as the Heart of Etheria poured into her. Lines, veins most probably, turned green and popped against her seemingly translucent skin. They weaved across her entire body and crept up her face and neck.

She'd never been more sure that you weren't supposed to watch yourself die. She began to turn away but the woman with yellow eyes grabbed her wrist and spun her back around. "Watch." So Adora did.

Her body gave a final jolt and a final gush of blood poured out of her younger self's mouth before her eyes settled on staring at nothing. Out of everything she'd ever seen, out of everything she'd ever done, nothing could quite compare to watching the light go out in her own eyes. And Catra. Spirits, Catra. She wailed over Adora's body, held her tight against her body. She was covered in the young Adora's blood, her fur matted with it.

She would do anything to stop her wail and clean the blood from her wife's hands. "That's not an option, anymore," the woman beside her said.

"Can you…can you read my mind?"

Those yellow eyes stared back, not giving an inch. "On to the next, Princess," she said after a long moment.

Adora blinked and soaring tapestries replaced the bloody scene. Sturdy stonework stood where the crumbling cave walls had been only seconds before. The sobs were gone as well. Instead, a lively tune wound its way through the hallways. Bright Moon. She'd recognize this place anywhere.

Someone knocked into Adora's shoulder, sending her stumbling to the floor. "Hey, what the—"

"Sorry, but the Queen will have my head if her dress is late!" Someone shouted as they scurried around Adora. They didn't even look backwards.

The Queen…would that be Glimmer? She turned around, and found not only the brunette woman, but also the group from Eternia behind her. So they hadn't stayed behind at the Heart. "You deserve your audience," the woman said with a smile that curled at the edges. Adora didn't smile back.

She very much did not want to walk to the next room, to play this little game, but her options had officially run dry. So she walked slowly down the hallway. At the end, she turned the corner and the castle's largest ballroom awaited her. Every color under the sun, and then seemingly even more, lined the room. A full orchestral band played towards the front, and people in rich, bright attire mingled in the full room. Cheerful chatter rose above the crowd. It should've been a happy sight, but something dreadfully wrong was coming down the pipeline if the last scene were any indicator.

"This way," the woman with yellow eyes said, beckoning her with one long finger, but Adora stayed put. She wouldn't, couldn't, stomach something horrible happening to all these people.

"Let me go," Adora said, "You've had your fun."

The woman stepped closer until they were practically nose-to-nose. For the first time, she noticed how the woman towered over her. "We haven't even begun to have fun, Princess." She licked her plump lips. "The sooner you come with me, the sooner this will all be over."

Adora didn't ask what she meant by that, she simply followed when the woman turned and walked away. They walked past the partygoers, best described as throngs of horned and hooved people she recognized from various planets across the solar system. They all ignored Adora, the woman, and their trailing Eternian group.

They crossed a hallway that led from the ballroom and entered a room reserved for Royal Guard surveillance and intelligence. Or what used to be. Now it was filled with people, clothes, tables, and tapestries. In the center, flanked by guards and servants alike, Glimmer sat before a tall mirror, adjusting her earrings.

"Where's Catra?" Glimmer barked while pinning a piece of hair back from her face. Her white dress took up a remarkable amount of space and was altogether nothing like the dress Adora remembered her wearing on her and Bow's wedding day.

A couple of guards exchanged looks before one swallowed and said in a weak voice, "She just sent word she won't be able to make it."

Glimmer's hand stopped and the formerly bustling room went silent. The hair pin in Glimmer's fist snapped in half and her knuckles turned white. "Fuck! Dammit!" One of the guards by Adora whispered to another to get Bow and the guard scrambled out the door.

Adora took a step forward, studying her friend. She looked like Glimmer, she had the pink hair and everything, but she felt totally off. Sure, people listened and obeyed when Glimmer spoke, but they weren't holding their breaths and walking on eggshells. So who was this?

Glimmer stood, her face now red. She picked up a hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, shattering it into a million little pieces that scattered across the floor. Wide and wild, her eyes trailed across the length of the room. "And what the fuck are you looking at?" She yelled at a servant.

"Uhhh, nothing," he swallowed, "Your Highness." Glimmer stared at him for another moment before she began to pace the long room, back and forth, back and forth. Her fists balled at her sides, and her shoulders crept higher and higher. The familiar tingle of magic radiated from Glimmer, growing from a trickle to something white hot. She commanded the Moonstone with an iron grip, with an anger you had to earn.

The door swung open slowly, causing Glimmer to pause mid-stride and turn on her heel. Bow walked in, looking tall and handsome and grim. He wore no smile, his eyes held none of his usual gentleness. "Everybody out!" Glimmer ordered, causing the room to clear out in record time.

Bow watched the servants leave before marching up to Glimmer, and taking both her hands in his. "I heard about Catra," he said. Glimmer nodded wordlessly. "You know it's hard for her to be here."

"It's hard for everybody to be here," Glimmer said as tears and makeup streamed down her face. "I miss her so much, Bow. She should fucking be here."

"I know," he said, "Spirits, do I know. But there's a whole planet that needs you. And it needs you right now." Glimmer nodded and swiped a hand across her smudged face. "You just have to say 'I do.' That's it. That's all anyone's asking for."

"But I don't love her," Glimmer choked out.

Bow's face softened then. Gently, he said, "What's love got to do with anything?"

The scene shifted, colors twisting and turning as her legacy set in. This was what she left behind?

When the surroundings became solid, it took Adora a moment to realize they were still in Bright Moon, this time in a hallway. She began turning towards the woman who was not quite a woman, but a gigantic stained glass window stopped Adora in her tracks. It was herself, standing a story tall and forever clutching the Sword of Protection in one hand and the Heart of Etheria symbol in the other. Here, that was all she was ever going to be. A sinking feeling coagulated in her stomach before dropping even further. Wherever she was in this world, it wasn't amongst the living.

Movement caught her eye and she dragged her gaze from the window to the space just below it. A lone woman stood below, looking up. Her ears, slightly pointier than Catra's, twitched before she turned around to face Adora.

Her brown eyes, so different from Adora's icy blue eyes, held an exhaustion that Adora knew well. For the first time since they got to this place, Adora was seen. But why her? Why this woman? And then it hit her…here she was. A different face, but herself all the same. She'd been dead for years in this timeline, and yet she found a way, as she always did, to be both in and out of this world. The new She-Ra, the old her. How strange. Did this twenty year old realize the truth yet? That being She-Ra was somehow both lonely and much too crowded. Maybe she felt her brown eyes made her special, different from the last She-Ra. Maybe she didn't realize that none of that mattered.

But she was here, and Adora was not. Perhaps, then, it was Adora who was wrong. Perhaps the differences did matter, and she was too messed up, too changed to be the person Etheria needed She-Ra to be. So she had to die, and this new girl had to replace her, and it was better this way for everyone. She had something that Adora couldn't muster. The show had to go on, and it didn't need Adora. How strange to feel totally irreplaceable and yet find yourself replaced.

"Adora?" She called out, "What am I supposed to do? Talk to me, please! Just tell me what to do, I'm begging you!"

Adora took a step back. What was this? She could barely keep herself together and now she had to have the answers for the new She-Ra? Hopefully her dead self had more wisdom than her current self because she had nothing.

"I'm sorry, I—" Don't know? What would Mara say if she could see this? Years of mentorship gone, her replacement totally useless. Maybe she'd never wanted She-Ra to last because she'd seen this very future. "I can't help you."

"You have to!" The girl cried, tears beginning to well in her eyes, "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I'm not strong enough."

And she thought Adora was? Poor girl—doomed before she was even born. Though most people probably were.

Adora swallowed, took another step back. How did Mara do this? How did she show up right when Adora needed her? How did she know the words to say, the reassurances to give? Whatever it was that her predecessor had, Adora did not. Mara died at twenty-nine, much too early and much too violent. It was a wound that would never heal, an injustice that would never be rectified. But she had borne her duty to her successor with a strength and an air of grace that neither the world nor She-Ra deserved. She'd come when Adora called; she'd stayed when she deserved to go. As the years went by, Adora had come to realize that she shared the same fate as Mara. She would stay, in some capacity, for the next She-Ra. She'd find a way to bear this unbearable duty. To keep on even when life had passed her by.

And she'd thought it'd be different. She thought she'd be different. Maybe some ancient truth would be revealed to her. Or someone would hand her a manual on mentoring her next self. It definitely wasn't this—the new She-Ra's desperation and her bumbling ineptitude.

"How can you leave me like this?" The new She-Ra demanded, her brown eyes hardening. "The world's been fucked since you died, and you conveniently died so you wouldn't have to clean up your masterclass in creating an unsolvable clusterfuck!"

"Spirits," Adora said, rubbing at her eyes. And now she was like Shadow Weaver? "I'm sorry."

"Okay," the other She-Ra said, "I'm sorry and what? I'm sorry, and I'll figure this out? I'm sorry, and we'll fix this together?"

"I'm just sorry," Adora said, not bothering to meet her counterpart's eyes.

"Really? That's it? That's all you've got for me?"

"What happened after I…What happened?"

"What happened?" The other She-Ra said. "Haven't you noticed? I was born the very day you died. But it took me fifteen years to be good at this stuff, the magic and the sword play. And it took me another five to begin to understand how to play this stupid fucking game. That was twenty years without She-Ra, basically. Anyone with trace amounts of a brain saw the opening. The weakness. Etheria was shattered after Horde Prime, it was in ruins. There was no better time to seize power, and so many people jumped at the opportunity. Now I have to pick up all these fucking pieces."

"A civil war?" Adora asked. What the fuck?

The other She-Ra nodded.

"But I put Etheria back together. When I released its magic, the planet healed," Adora said. This wasn't her fault. She'd saved the universe. What else did she want from her?

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You stopped Horde Prime from activating the Heart of Etheria, I'll give you that. But you didn't kill him and the planets fucked in about a million different ways. So, thanks for that."

"What did you want me to do? What could I have done differently?"

"Oh, I don't know." The other She-Ra's ears pinned against her head. "How about actually killed Horde Prime for starters?"

Adora shook her head. "But I did. I promise, I did."

Silence. The other She-Ra stared. Her ears slowly began to stand back up. Finally, she said, "I don't know what reality you're living in, Adora, but it isn't this one."

The scene paused. The other She-Ra stuck with an expression somewhere between pity and anger. Adora imagined that her own expression was something similar. She'd never killed Horde Prime? Had never felt his soul burning in her hands and then blowing away in a light, clean breeze that would've been unthinkable even an hour before his killing? She remembered the moment. How clear, how obvious the choice had been. He was the only person she'd ever killed. That fact didn't weigh on her like it probably should have, but she thought about it often.

The scene shifted, smeared into a thousand different colors before another image began to appear. She noticed the wind first, and then the moons. Not Etheria then, and not Eternia. She remembered seeing these four moons sometime in her travels, but she couldn't remember where. They hung in the night sky in an almost perfect line.

A ragged noise startled her from her observations, and she turned towards the source. Gradually her mind registered the sound as snoring and the figures curled on the ground as Catra and Melog. They laid in front of an entrance to a cave. Embers from a fire glowed next to them. The night heat suggested mid-summer. Catra's hair fell to her mid-back, suggesting the Heart of Etheria happened years ago. If it had happened at all.

Catra thrashed around while grumbling and growling in her sleep. Her flexed claws glinted in the moons' light. Adora looked around for someone, anyone, that would come to her aid. Someone that would wake her up, remind her that everything was fine. Usually, Adora took on this duty. Usually she woke up to Catra's distress, usually she pulled her close and held her tight, reminded her that they'd gotten the best revenge of all—living a good life. But if this was anything like the previous scenes, she'd been dead for years now. And no one else seemed to be filling that role.

It wasn't that she didn't want Catra to find someone else and build a life with them. She just never got a chance to say that in this world. They were never quite each other's. They had never quite made that leap of faith. And death didn't do do-overs. Whatever they wanted to say, whatever they needed to say, had never been said. Would never be said.

Adora steadied herself against a rock before she fell down.

Catra sat bolt-upright, her face pale and sweat trickling down her forehead. She ran her hand over the back of her neck as she curled into herself and shivered. Melog huddled closer and let out low keen.

When they were younger, Adora thought that Horde Prime and his chip would haunt Catra forever. She couldn't count the number of times that Catra woke in a cold sweat, panicked, and back in Prime's ship. At its worst, it could take hours to calm Catra enough that she could sleep again. But time had worked its magic; the years had dulled the sharp knife of losing control. Adora couldn't remember the last time that Catra woke from the memories. She couldn't even remember the last time they'd really talked about it. At twenty-five, she never would've imagined this future. If she hadn't lived it, if she hadn't been there, she wouldn't have believed it at all.

Catra hunched into herself, still rubbing at the back of her neck. Melog placed their head in her lap and sighed. Their movements seemed familiar, rehearsed even. With a sinking heart, Adora realized that this was likely a nightly ritual.

After the fall of Horde Prime, she and Catra had never been apart for more than a few reluctant days. How strange they existed permanently apart now. How strange that Catra lived here, and Adora no doubt occupied a place of honor in a well-worn cemetery. Strange how even in the afterlife, Adora played the familiar part of trying to save a dying world through a doomed girl. Strange how she'd still found a way to leave Catra.

Adora crawled beside this new Catra. What was she thinking? Did she sleep in fear, but live in a world that Adora could only hope to provide? Catra, gaunt and thinner than Adora had ever seen her, stared at the moons without seeing. Her usual intelligence and the gleam in her eye dulled into an expression she'd never once seen on her wife's face.

Adora stood. "I did this?"

The woman shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Maybe that's a little strong. How far our responsibilities and relationships extend is anyone's guess. But no person is an island, Adora. You can't be dead with no consequences. You can't leave without a trace. Welcome to the real world, Princess."

"I–" The scene shifted once again, causing Adora's general sense of confusion to be replaced with a much more specific sense of anger. Fuck this woman. Fuck whatever was happening. She turned to find the woman and give her a piece of her mind. But the new location demanded her attention, her hate, and her power.

The Horde. The creature that called in her dreams. The echo to her every word. Somehow she always ended up here. It made perfect sense that this nightmare tour made a stop here. She felt some surprise by her lack of surprise.

A half-assed air conditioner held together by duct tape and hope sputtered on in an effort to combat the oppressive heat that characterized every summer in the Fright Zone. Silence layered over everything else, as heavy and inevitable as the dust that no amount of cleaning cadets could fix. Adora turned toward the woman and said, "Alright, let's get this over with."

The woman smirked. "Your wish is my command."

"Mom?"

Her mouth went dry. Whatever piece of her that prodded, that put one foot in front of the other, disappeared in a world flipped upside down. Adora looked at the almost woman, choked out, "Please."

She said nothing. She just grabbed Adora's shoulders and turned her around. Finn and Reyna stood side-by-side, looking up at her. Adora loved a lot of people but she'd never loved anyone the way she loved her kids. She loved Finn's tender heart under their sarcastic shell. She loved Reyna for her courage and her emerging leadership. She loved and loved and loved. How they carried her soul. And she hadn't known a day of peace since. To lose them….Some fates were worse than death.

They both looked wrong here, like a beautiful piano in a derelict building. She wanted them gone from this place. She wanted them in their warm beds, in their loving household. Love could happen in the Horde, this she knew for sure, but it had to fight tooth and nail to exist. Love was whipped here. It was beaten down and dragged out of you. It had to be sneaky. It had to happen in a quick look, in a cuddle in the dead of night. Love was a survivor; it shouldn't have had to be.

"Please," Adora repeated. She went to her knees and gathered her kids in her arms. She held them close, closed her eyes. She only reopened them when her hand sank unexpectedly downwards.

Ash floated through the air, blowing away slightly in a breeze of recycled air. Adora almost turned to see where it came from before she watched the tips of Reyna's hair crumble into ash. "No! Wait! No! What's happening?"

She held them tighter, like she could somehow tether them to life. But they fell to pieces all the same. She called her magic, she called the Sword of Protection, she called Etheria. Nothing and no one answered. Still, she begged.

Her children faded before her very eyes. Finn's ice blue eyes stared at her, knowing just who to blame for never having lived at all. They were the last thing to go, those eyes. Even when Reyna's brown fur completely melded with the background, and her hair changed from black to brown to mist, Finn stared.

How long she wept she didn't know. It was only until a hand shook her shoulder that she became vaguely aware of the world again. She cracked open a teary eye and watched her younger self kneel down next to her. That little girl played with her blonde ponytail and smiled as best she could with her two front teeth missing.

"I don't know what you expected," the woman with fang-like teeth said. She loomed over Adora's crumpled body.

"Please," Adora begged, her voice hoarse, "Please. I'm sorry. Spirits, bring them back."

"But you wanted this for a longtime, didn't you? To die at the Heart of Etheria? In a blaze of glory and heroics and death. Well, now you've got it."

"No, I'm just…I'm getting better. I swear I'm fine! I—?" Adora began to say before her younger self wrapped her hands around her arm.

She looked up at her with huge, innocent eyes. An unruly strand of blonde hair escaped her ponytail and fell into her face. "You know we've been here for years," the young Adora said.

Adora blinked and she was in the Eternian ballroom. Back in the here and now. She hoped.

The woman released her lapels, sending Adora straight to the floor. The woman pursed her lips into a thin line and moved towards her. Adora crawled backwards, hoping to escape whatever else was up this woman's sleeve.

Arms suddenly looped under her armpits before pulling her both away from the woman and up to her feet. "I've got you," Catra whispered in her ear, "You're alright, I got you."

The woman pressed forward towards them, her face hard and her eyes thin slits. "What have we learned here today?" She paused and when Adora didn't answer, she growled, "Be very careful what you wish for."

The woman stopped her advance and the tenseness in her shoulders lessened a fraction. With a voice softer than any previous time she spoke, the woman said, "You aren't going to get your revenge on her by dying. That, I can promise you." She held Adora's gaze for a moment longer before turning. The clocks in the room began to furiously spin, their hands whirring around in an effort to win a race that could never be won. The woman, for her part, walked back around the table and left through the door she came in.

…

Author's Note: As promised, I have some behind the scenes insight into the making of this chapter if you're interested. Basically what happened was that I read this article about Kimmy Schmidt (of all things) that discussed the fact that never once (until like the 3rd season) did the show say the word "rape." Everything was implied for a long time, much like this fic. The article basically talked about the power of actually naming what happened instead of using euphemisms and implication. I honestly thought it was a great point and so this chapter is in response to that. I thought for the majority of this fic's life, I would simply imply everything but I do think there is a power to naming what happened and bringing it out of the shadows. Please feel free to disagree with me on this point. Constructive criticism is welcome on everything that I write.