Chapter Text
Eternia was beautiful this time of year.
Adora had always been one to enjoy the sunshine and all sorts of outdoor activities, even before finding out everything the world outside the Horde had to offer. But Eternia - it was designed like a literal wonderland, sky painted bright purple and streaked with golden lights. It was a summer for travelling to the Pink Cliffs at the edge of the known universe, for dancing around bonfires, for watching the stars fall on the beach - and she was spending it holed up in Castle Grayskull, listening to her people’s complaints all day without so much as a snack break in-between.
This morning, the court had gathered in the throne room for the daily proceedings, involving, as they had for some time now, some villager from far away demanding the princess punish some no-good sorcerer who’d been caught trying to poison her and her wife. A scene which was the order of the day for everyone born and raised in (or, in Adora’s case, abducted from) Eternia, but also combined the planet’s two most interesting defining features, which were a penchant for gossip at any hour of the day and on any available subject (it had taken Adora a long time and quite a few shows of power to get her guards to stop commenting on her forehead) and the unbridled, wide-spread use of magic even in the most common everyday situations. Everyone had magic in themselves, to some degree, but some, more gifted than others, used their talents for evil - in this case, apparently, trying to make happily married women fall in love with them by slipping a potion in their drinking well.
Adora always hoped her subjects didn’t notice how out of it she was - on her arrival, she’d promised to give all of herself to this planet, just as she’d given her all to Etheria - but given the hateful words the villager had thrown at her for not having found the culprit yet, she’d clearly failed this time.
Spinnerella and Netossa, invited by Adora for the occasion, were perched on two smaller thrones by her sides and followed the exchange closely. Their eyes were flickering back and forth between princess and subject, probably expecting the conflict to escalate some more, but Adora had to disappoint on that front, too. She was known all around the kingdom as a lenient princess, who encouraged her subjects to be honest and open with her, starting with the very way they addressed her, and she had neither the desire nor the necessary strength left to go on a power trip now. She had been weak, she had been tired, and she could freely admit she’d slowed down the investigations for her own personal gain.
So maybe a year of ruling alone on Eternia, away from all of her friends, had taken a toll on her. Maybe hearing about She-Ra’s adventures in the Princess Alliance all the time made her long for simpler times. Maybe she had decided to take advantage of this particular case to summon some old friends and go on one last mission together, and everyone but Spinnerella and Netossa had been too busy to answer the call.
That was alright. She had written letters to everyone in a rare fit of excitement, already picturing how it would be to have Bow and Glimmer there with her, maybe even reuniting more of the gang back, if she was lucky. But the moment they were sent out, she had been filled with dread. It had been a year. Her longing to see her friends again battled with her need to stay blissfully unaware of what time and distance and obligations had done to all of them.
But she hadn’t been close enough to Spinnerella and Netossa to notice that anything was amiss or for them to notice anything different about her - while still close enough that Adora was enjoying having them around. They’d brought cupcakes for her, and gifts from everyone who couldn’t come, and they’d really helped liven up the place. Nothing had changed in the time she’d known them - they, at least, were safe.
Or so she’d thought. “So, Adora -” Netossa started, hesitant.
After holding court and promising to look more into the matter, they retired to Adora’s chambers to catch up. Adora had really put in an effort to make them more hospitable - brought in poofy armchairs, flower vases, let the morning air in - but the truth was, her chambers had just as much personality to them than her single Force Captain room in the Horde would have. A solitary painting of her family was the only decoration: her parents, dead when the planet had been attacked by Horde Prime, nearly two decades before the Princess Alliance had managed to defeat him; her twin brother, who she still had no news from, but who was thought to be hiding away somewhere; and her, a baby still in her mother’s arms. She’d helped save the universe with nothing but the power of friendship and pure force of will - including what, unbeknownst to her, was her homeland - and she’d been welcomed back to an empty room and empty castle and told it was her reward.
Adora moved her attention away from the portrait and to the two women, who were somewhat excitedly drinking their tea. “Yes?”
“We’re not actually here… just to help with your investigation.”
Adora didn’t think she could still blush, so it was a relief to feel it coming onto her cheeks. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’ve been so rude, I’ve barely given you a tour of the place - and I imagine you’ll want the rest of the day off-”
“No, Adora,” snickered Spinnerella. “I mean, yes, we would love a tour. But we’re here because we have very important news to tell you.”
Adora stood still and waited for the news, giving her tea another swirl. No one spoke, but Spinnerella and Netossa both sported enigmatic smiles and had their hands intertwined on Spinnerella’s lap - no, belly.
It dawned on her. “You’re…?” She was afraid to finish her sentence in case she read it all wrong and accidentally offended them, but they were smiling and nodding along like crazy, jumping at the chance to explain.
“Four months now!” Spinnerella said. “We’re still trying to wrap our heads around it, honestly.”
“Oh, don’t listen to her. I knew this would happen,” Netossa cut in.
“Uh-huh. That’s why you burst into tears when I gave you the news.”
“I was happy! We’re so, so happy, Adora.” And she grabbed Adora’s arm and shook it repeatedly to show just how much.
Adora was breathless. In a good way, sure - Spinnerella and Netossa were more in love than anyone else she knew, and while it was a little unexpected, she also believed they were ready for it - but one that also kind of hurt. “Congratulations. Wow, I… I can’t believe it.”
“We want everyone to be there before the birth,” Spinnerella said, “so we’ll be celebrating for the entire week leading up to it. Just a few dinner parties, I doubt I’ll be able to move much - but we’d really like it if you could join us.”
“Sure!” Adora yelled out before she could stop herself, pushing down all of her fears about going back home - no, but Eternia was her home, she forgot - before they closed off her throat. “Sure, of course, you didn’t even have to ask, I’m- wow.”
Still, while Spinnerella and Netossa rambled on about what they were planning and how excited they were for everyone to be back together again, Adora couldn’t help but glance at her desk. The letters she got in response to her summoning were still laid out there, and by now she almost had their contents memorized.
Glimmer wrote excitedly about the rebuilding of Bright Moon, how princesses and sorcerers from all over Etheria were coming in every day to help. Relationships between kingdoms were being re-established, and so was trade. Former Horde soldiers who’d either defected or helped with the war against Horde Prime had been granted an official pardon and were slowly being integrated into society. She told Adora about Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio, who were currently serving as Bright Moon guards but would be allowed to switch careers whenever they figured out what they actually wanted to do.
Not much was said about Glimmer herself outside of her queenly duties, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for her friend. Hints about her state of mind were related in Bow’s letter, instead. He was worried about her never taking a break, but building Etheria back up brought her great satisfaction, and she did seem very happy. She spent a lot of downtime with Frosta and the other princesses, so he didn’t see her as much anymore, and when he did, it was mostly so Glimmer could be updated on how his fathers were doing at the library, now that so much information had resurfaced about the First Ones and the history of the planet. Adora could guess he didn’t feel too good about it, but by the measured, uncharacteristically put-together style of his writing you’d never know.
There was no letter from Catra, and Adora should’ve known better than to expect one by now. The two of them hadn’t talked since Adora had left Etheria, and hadn’t had a semi-friendly conversation since their day at the Crystal Castle, which had ended with Catra leaving Adora hanging off a cliff. Adora hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye, because the new princess of the Magicats only ever showed up on official business and wouldn’t have come to the send-off party even if anyone had thought to invite her.
At worst, Catra didn’t even know she was gone. At best, she knew and just didn’t care. They might have worked together to stop the Horde years before, but that was the extent to which their relationship had been fixed. They’d never seen each other again afterwards.
It wasn’t like Adora missed her. Missing someone, she found, was a more active feeling. She missed Bow and Glimmer, for example, because she thought of them often and wished she could be with them. She missed Etheria, as much as she didn’t want to, because she constantly compared it to Eternia and found the former better than the latter. Missing required periodical acknowledgment of the fact. But Adora never thought about Catra if she could help it; whatever had been between them, she’d grown out of, like an old pair of shoes she still admired but never wanted to wear again.
The real problem wasn’t missing her - it was, rather, that she permeated Adora. She inhabited all of Adora’s memories and flowed in her bloodstream; she was in the way Adora spoke and in the way she moved. She could no sooner cut Catra out of her life than she could cut off part of herself - all she could do was hide her away. Keep her locked up in some remote part of her brain, so that Catra wouldn’t cross her mind as often and Adora wouldn’t still expect to find her at the foot of her bed at night.
It had worked well enough during the war, but now that that distraction was gone, it was getting harder by the day. This person had been beside her through thick and thin, and now she was leading a completely different life, in a completely different place, with people who weren’t Adora to make her laugh. Thinking about it made her feel weird inside, and she should’ve been over it by now, and yet -
She watched Netossa rub her hands gently over Spinnerella’s baby bump like Adora wasn’t even in the room, Adora’s fingers inching towards Bow and Glimmer’s separate letters to read them once more. Being adamant to forget had never made Adora too good with change.
That night, her reflection mocked her. Her hair tied in a bun, eyes dry and sparkless, frame crumpling under the pressure of keeping her head high and back straight. It was hard to believe that this was the same person who’d carried the sword of She-Ra not too long before.
Is this who you are now? The one who should’ve been removed from her mind long ago taunted her.
She tilted her head to the left, then to the right. Her mirror image did the same, but it was - unsettling. Her own self-perception hadn’t shifted at all, mostly because she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it, but she’d grown into a stranger while she wasn’t looking. This pristine ghost of a girl, long-faced and tired and lonely; she didn’t much like herself now.
Is this who you were meant to be?
She tried to call for She-Ra’s powers, as she’d already done a thousand times after breaking the sword and stopping the Heart of Etheria from firing - but to no avail. The magic had vanished from her, leaving only a light thrumming behind, and none of her attempts to get it back had worked so far.
Still, Adora loved being useful; and so when Eternia had latched onto her for help, and given her an identity back, and expected her to fill those shoes immediately, she had. And because Adora was nothing if not dedicated to her task, she’d never taken them off.
Her friends must’ve realized she was different, but decided not to comment on it. Change was a part of life, after all. All of them would continue to change throughout their lives, year after year, and so would the world around them - and Adora would stay here, crystallized in her final form, and miss all of it. How could she ever catch up with the rest of them now? How could she catch up with herself? Where did she even start?
She heard a different voice in her head now. Older, kinder, fighting to make herself heard among the mess. You need to go back to the beginning. The very beginning.
The day before leaving for Etheria, her hair was back in a ponytail for the first time in years.
Catra had no idea what she was doing at a party for princesses, but she had been invited, and Scorpia had somehow managed to convince her that it would’ve been rude not to show up. Even though the net princess and the wind princess weren’t connected in any way to the Magicat kingdom - or any kingdom at all, really - Catra could use all the allies she could get, since she’d been living on the other princesses’ benevolence since the peace talks. She’d helped in the war, sure, and she’d been rewarded for it; but she’d also been a last-minute addition to their ranks, and no one ever passed the chance to point it out. If push ever came to shove, she’d either be isolated from the rest or the weakest link.
So she held her head high, her hands in place behind her back, as conversation stopped and the crowd parted around her. Not respectfully, no; all of her public appearances were still received with suspicion, at best, and downright spite at worst. But they still parted for her. She’d caught their attention, got them talking about her. That was all that mattered to Catra as she looked around, smirk in place, for the hosts.
She could make an effort for one night. Hang out with Scorpia and Entrapta, maybe, who she hadn’t seen in a while. They were both so hyped for this event they’d probably just string Catra along the whole time and she would barely have to talk. She was pretty confident in her ability to get through the party unscathed.
She looked for them right away, eager to see some friendly faces - and found Adora instead.
It was weird; she seemed to fill space differently. If Catra hadn’t been attuned to her every move, if she hadn’t felt the distinct throbbing in the middle of her chest, she would’ve needed a moment to adjust her memory of Adora to this new version of her. She looked exactly the same; so much so, that she looked more like someone trying very hard to give their best Adora impersonation, but failing to pick up on what exactly made her… her.
She curtsied in front of Spinnerella and Netossa, who were ecstatic to see her and immediately complimented her dress. She had perfected her curtsying technique, so that all that trying-too-hard, endearing Adora awkwardness was gone. Catra had flared up instinctively at the sight of her, as she always did - whether out of joy, fury or despair, because everything she felt about Adora, she always felt too much - but she was already deflating, sinking back into the familiar cold.
Adora’s arms hung limp by her side while Netossa threw her arms around her, and then some of the other princesses. No one commented on it or seemed to notice anything was wrong. Catra was outraged on Adora’s behalf, and even moreso on her own. It didn’t matter that it had been a year since Adora had left Etheria, and even more since she’d left the Horde, and that she should’ve been out of Catra’s mind by now: these were still the people who’d taken Adora away from her, and they didn’t even notice it wasn’t really Adora.
She wouldn’t cause a scene, though. She still had so much to make up for that it would be a long time until she could ruin another planet-wide event again. She just waited until the princesses gave “Adora” some space to breathe, and then she snatched her away from the buffet table before anyone could follow her there, ‘cause for being such terrible friends, they sure were smothering.
The small spark of surprise in Adora’s eyes almost caught her off-guard, but Catra didn’t let that stop her. She was tired of being messed with. Torturing her in private was one thing, but to do it in public, in front of everyone else, and while they were trying to keep the peace?
Catra shoved Adora and watched her regain her balance immediately. It only made her angrier.
“What game are you playing?”
Adora took a few seconds to register those words, blinking. Catra suddenly got a flash of Princess Prom - her dipping Adora, her leg firm between Catra’s, the soft little gasp in Catra’s ear, the flicker of Adora’s eyes to Catra’s lips.
Finally, Adora spoke. “I… what?”
It was the most unsatisfying response to anything ever, which, she had to admit, kind of threw a wrench in her suspicions. Still, because Catra was nothing if not prideful, and the alternative was still too unsettling to consider, she went on: “Drop it. This is your worst interpretation to date.”
Adora’s confusion only deepened in the next few seconds, before realization dawned in her eyes. “You think I’m Double Trouble?”
“I don’t think, I know.”
“Yeah, you really don’t think. That hasn’t changed.” And then she shoved her back, to Catra’s surprise. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms - or any terms, really - but Adora had never been this flippant towards her, this - dismissive. She always either worked herself into an indignant rage until she was red in the cheeks, or… was that a smirk right there?
Catra really couldn’t be sure. It looked more like a grimace than anything, and the vicious spark that usually came with it was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was just that desperate to find a connection between the Adora she knew and the Adora she now had in front of her - someone who she was definitely not an authority over.
She could’ve just told her all that. Apologized for never sending a letter, told her she’d missed her and that she still wished they could patch things up, but mostly that she was worried about her. Scorpia’s voice in her head told her it was the most constructive thing to do, but her pride warped her words so that it all came out as a low, breathy: “What the hell happened to you?”
“What happened, I come back after a year to support my friends and I get attacked, how should I feel-”
“You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I bother.” It’s not worth it, Catra told herself.
She hadn’t planned to get up close and personal with Adora tonight, and now that she’d made sure there was no shapeshifting involved, it was no use to keep the conversation going. Catra was doing better, that’s what everyone told her; but part of healing was letting go of what was too broken to fix. Scorpia and Entrapta had been nice enough to forgive her when they were under no obligation to, but the cut between her and Adora ran much, much deeper. She’d worked hard not to let her life revolve around her since Adora had been gone, and she wouldn’t give up the second Adora showed up again.
She started to walk away - it’s not worth it, it’s not - and back to the party, which, at the moment, was just a bunch of people who struggled to tolerate her. But Adora didn’t let it slide.
“Catra,” was all she said, all it took. There Adora went, trying to keep her from going with just the sound of her name, knowing Catra would shake her off but eventually choose to stay put anyway. There they were, rehearsing the same, tired old script, and nothing ever changed. “Don’t I even get a hello?”
As Catra looked her over again, a pain throbbed at her center. “Hello.”
“Good. We’re off to a good start. Next you should ask me how I am. That’s how a conversation with someone you haven’t seen in a long while is supposed to go.”
Catra scoffed. “You’ve grown prissy. The Adora I knew would have accepted being slammed against a wall as the conversation starter that it was.”
Now that was a smirk. Stiff and tentative, maybe, and betrayed by an air of superiority - but a smirk nonetheless. “My bad. Etherian customs fly right past me sometimes.”
“Stop being so dramatic, you’ve only been gone a year.”
“A really long year.” She frowned, and Catra got the distinct impression that Adora wanted her to ask about it, so she did what she did best and defied Adora’s expectations by staying silent. Adora’s shoulders dropped when she realized she’d have to lead the conversation herself. “I’m actually glad to be here again. Eternia is cool, but it’s just not the same without Bow and Glimmer and -” she paused for a second and shrugged, “everyone.”
And me? Catra wondered, but would never ask. Have you missed me? Have you thought about me, even once?
But that was a stupid question. This wasn’t the first time Adora left her behind. If she hadn’t spared a thought for her after leaving the Horde, she definitely hadn’t spared a thought for her when she’d left to rule Eternia. Catra hadn’t really tried to turn things around either: Adora had made it crystal clear she wanted nothing to do with her, and so the best reparation Catra could make to her former best friend was to respect that wish.
Only all of that had been for nothing, because Adora seemed determined to find entertainment in Catra’s discomfort instead of keeping her distance as Catra had expected her to. Sure, it was just small talk - actively avoiding each other all night would have made things awkward for all parties involved - but faking disinterest, struggling for words, having to read into everything Adora did, was already taking a toll on her. She wanted to slip into easy, casual conversation with Adora that would make her feel half alive again or not bother at all.
“Well, things are not the same around here, too. We’ve been hard at work almost non-stop.” With a cutting glare, Catra stared down a princess who was going to steal the last tuna sandwich from the table, sending the poor girl running. It was a painful reminder of how far she still had to go with them, but she did get to shove that sandwich in her mouth, so it wasn’t all bad. “I mean, not me specifically, because they don’t trust me enough to let me do anything, but you know, everyone else.”
“But you’re doing your part, right? With the Magicats.”
Catra laughed bitterly. “Sure. The princesses oversee things above ground, I oversee what goes down below. It’s like being on fancy house arrest.”
To her surprise, Adora chuckled too. “I’m starting to think that’s just what ruling is. I don’t know why we glorified the idea so much when we were kids.”
She remembered nights spent up on the roof, picturing what it would be like when they had the world in their hands. Catra crying on her shoulder in bed as Adora held her closer, comforting her with promises of everything they’d build together. “Yeah,” Catra felt the pain again and had to turn away from Adora, just in case it showed on her face, too. “The Horde propaganda was that strong, I guess.”
She felt Adora reaching to turn her around again, and no matter how warm her hand was, she was determined to swat it away and focus on the buffet table - until Bow came to the rescue, grabbing Adora and wrapping her up in a bear hug. “Adora! There you are!” And without so much as a hello to Catra - seriously, it was like she wasn’t even there - he dragged Adora away, blabbing on and on, “I’ve missed you so much - the Best Friend Squad is finally back together again - how was the journey here-”
Catra just watched her go. She didn’t miss it, though, when Adora looked back towards her. She wished she had; now she’d be thinking about it all night.
She was eating a few tarts, still looking around for Scorpia and Entrapta, when Double Trouble sidled up to her. “You thought she was me?” They wore a fur coat over a purple tuxedo, and honestly, knowing them as well as she did, that checked out. “I take my craft very seriously, you know. I could never give such a lousy performance.”
Catra gave them the side-eye. “What do you mean lousy? People change. I would’ve thought you, of all people, would know.”
“Something else I know,” they drawled out, “is that they like to put on an act. I learned that from you.”
“I don’t put on an act,” Catra said around a mouthful of food. “Doesn’t mean I’m comfortable around everyone.”
“Sure, sure, I guess you wouldn’t get too personal with Adora,” Double Trouble shrugged, “or your family, because you don’t want to disappoint them now that you’ve finally found them. Or Entrapta, because she wouldn't understand. Or Scorpia, because you feel like you still need to make it up to her. Am I getting closer now?”
“Shut up,” Catra seethed, looking around to make sure no one was overhearing them. “I’m not in the mood for one of your impromptu therapy sessions.”
“Someday you will have to face it, you know. The emptiness.”
“I said shut up,” Catra snapped. “I have friends now, a family - a kingdom. I don’t know what you think I should feel empty about.”
“All that power,” Double Trouble tut-tutted, almost pitifully, “all that unconditional love, self-love, familial love. And something’s still missing, isn’t it?”
And when she kept avoiding their gaze, wishing they could stop, just stop for one damn night, they lifted her chin up towards them with a single clawed finger. “Oh, kitten,” they mumbled, “now that you finally got what you needed, I was hoping you’d figured out what it was that you wanted.”
Adora had never felt so loved, so needed, and so unseen.
She really was ecstatic to be with her friends again, and she was having fun for the first time in a long while. Bow had painted his situation with Glimmer to be a lot more dramatic than it actually turned out to be, with them instantly jumping to making up for lost time like nothing ever happened. Sure, she sometimes had to be pulled from one end of the ballroom to the other, from Glimmer’s princess group to… well, Bow, who pretty much just spent his time chasing Sea Hawk around, but if it meant she got to hang out with everyone, she wouldn’t complain. It was kind of flattering, how they all wanted her attention.
She was the problem. She was the one who didn’t fit in those dynamics anymore and was incapable of bringing anything new to them. She was trying so hard to be the Adora they knew, an Adora she could remember but no longer understand. It was like observing herself from a distance, mirroring the girl before her to the slightest mannerism without perceiving any of them as her own. She’d turned into this, survived her own murder by never looking back to reflect on it, just like before Eternia, before the Rebellion, she had left the Horde without a second thought as to what - who - she was leaving behind, in order to be She-Ra.
As she spun around the room for the first dance, partnered with Glimmer and then Mermista, she suddenly felt very tired. The thought of the last Princess Prom ignited a sort of longing at her core, a wish for things to be simple and quiet again - not these bright lights, this music booming in her ears, this constant awareness of her surroundings guiding her every move. She’d forgotten herself every time it was requested of her to serve this or that higher cause, with the promise of peace on the other side, and it was looking more and more like she might be the only one to never reap its benefits.
When do I stop, Adora asked whoever was listening as an incredibly strong Perfuma lifted her in the air and quickly set her back down with a smile. When do I rest?
Her turn with Spinnerella was incredibly quick, mostly because Netossa was wary of having her dance for too long when she was so close to the birth, and because she’d grown to be incredibly protective of her. Wherever Adora looked, there they were, engulfed in each other like the rest of the world had vanished around them. How liberating must it feel, to have someone know you that well. To not be able, nor need or want, to lie to yourself.
It was natural, right? To want that for herself: someone to tell her who she was, in her entirety, in her truth, whenever she forgot. For her heart to lurch forward and go God, give it to me, where do I start and fall flat when it came up empty, like expecting a three-course meal only to end up swallowing air.
Adora had always been good at self-control - one of the perks of a life spent in service of the greater good. But now this craving had started in her, and unlike on Eternia, there was nothing on Etheria preventing it from developing further.
And it was all Catra’s fault.
She’d forgotten that shutting Catra out of her heart hadn’t just been the morally righteous thing to do, but something meant for Adora’s own protection. Catra had known her well enough to sneak inside her head and poison her mind, and Adora had happily let her if it meant keeping her - even if she only got to hold on to the worst parts, the ugly parts. Catra made Adora senseless and selfish and was a tangible reminder of a past that Adora had needed to leave behind to brave the road ahead, proof of what Adora had been and could be again. After all this time, Catra still saw her, could still reach into her and tear Adora’s heart out and show it to her, and Adora kept inching closer and closer to Catra’s side of the ballroom, switching partner after partner to reach her, begging please tell me who to be.
When she was finally passed off to Catra, the surge of desire that overcame her was expected. Adora welcomed it in, let it grow, let it fill her. She held her breath as their fingers brushed, touched, went as far as to intertwine; but Catra, without ever meeting her gaze, only gave her one twirl and then spun out of sight.
What do you want, Catra?
Double Trouble didn’t know anything.
They were excellent at reading people, Catra could give them that; but they also never liked to admit when they were wrong, and that was how Catra was left with cryptic, oracle-like statements about her still missing something she wanted. Odds were, either Double Trouble didn’t even know what they were talking about, or they were referring to the one thing Catra had been advised for her own good not to want, and it was easier to believe the former than to face the latter.
She had worked to earn back the love she’d pushed away, had to learn how to deserve it. Being removed from Shadow Weaver’s presence - she was also taught never to speak ill of the dead, but all she could say here was, good fucking riddance - had worked wonders, but like a virus, she’d infected so much of Catra’s life that the only way any progress could be made was to distance herself from it all. And that included Adora. No matter how misguided Catra had been, how naive Adora had been, how everything had been against them from the start, how Catra didn’t even blame Adora anymore, not really - Catra couldn’t keep Adora in her life without hurting herself.
The feelings of inadequacy would kick in as soon as she saw Adora with anyone else - a reminder that if she couldn’t be enough for the person she loved the most, then she wouldn’t be enough for anyone - followed by such a terrible rush of self-hatred that Catra had to direct it towards Adora instead out of pure self-preservation.
She had been careful to build her own bubble, separate from Adora. She was her own person, with her own friends, her own family, her own kingdom. Loving and being loved, that’s what it was supposed to be all about. That should’ve been enough.
“Not avoiding me, are you?”
Catra fought the urge to groan. Adora clearly hadn’t gotten the hint the first time, and had approached her to dance again. She realized the girl could be a bit thick, especially since she hadn’t been on Etheria in a while - but she just had to keep making things more complicated for Catra. “Sorry, princess, looks like I’m a very busy woman tonight.”
Which was partly true. Catra hadn’t wanted to deal with Adora, yes; but she’d also promised Scorpia a dance, and then random guests she didn’t want to let down, and then was invited to a discussion about Half Moon safety measures and possible political alliances by some of the princesses there. She prided herself on it, too. She could survive just fine without Adora, and now Adora was seeing it too.
But Adora just resumed the dance like Catra hadn’t spoken at all. “I’m sure you could make time for an old friend.”
“We’re not friends.”
Adora hummed under her breath and slid her arm down Catra’s back, resting at her waist. “Well, whose fault is that?”
“I didn’t say it was anyone’s fault. Things just changed.”
Adora didn’t seem to like that reply very much. In fact, her grip on Catra tightened imperceptibly as she pulled their chests together. Catra could feel her breathing. “It’s good to see you.”
Catra noted that she didn’t say I missed you. Adora was always going around telling everyone how much she missed them, whether it was true or not, making everybody feel more important than they actually were. But not this time. The alternative she’d chosen was just as cliché, with none of the emotional openness. “Yeah, I bet,” she settled on, because like hell was she going to reciprocate when she could just lean on sarcasm and come out on top. “So what kind of dump is Eternia, anyway? You look awful.”
“Oh, you’d love it, Catra,” Adora brightened up, too used to Catra’s deflecting to fall for it, leading Catra backwards. “It’s so different from Etheria. So beautiful. You haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen the meteor shower during Emerald season. That’s when the sky is gold during the day and green at night - and sometimes stars fall, and you’re supposed to wish upon them, it’s apparently an old Earth tradition -”
Catra could barely pay attention. It wasn’t that Adora was rambling, or that she wasn’t interested - although she sure did try to pretend otherwise. It was the way Adora’s body molded to hers, the way her hands occasionally brushed her lower back, how she carefully guided her into a turn or a spin, how Catra met her demands without question.
Adora had never had two left feet or anything like that, but her best feat had always been her strength, rather than her agility. While she still looked like she trained everyday - Catra had to dig her nails in Adora’s shoulders to keep them from sliding down her arms and pass it off as an accident - she also seemed to move more surely. She hadn’t been watching her dance with other girls on purpose, but at some point through one of her conveniently timed work discussions, she had dared to glance at the dance floor and seen Adora with Glimmer.
Even though she knew there was nothing going on there, the thought of them together had been enough to make her skin crawl for years, and the sight of them now was no different. It was the familiar way they interacted, the easy way Glimmer touched her without every brush of fingers being fraught with tension. And there were the other princesses, too, some of them getting a little too ahead of themselves - Catra really thought she’d have to pry Perfuma off Adora after the third song - and yet Adora was choosing to dance with Catra now.
What do you want, Catra?
She wanted to be happy. For all intents and purposes, she should’ve been. She had the support system she needed to survive anything life threw at her - even if it never brought her and Adora back together. But happiness wasn’t really a thing to want, was it? That would imply it was also a thing you got once and for all, when actually it was a lot more like rain, ever elusive but ever returning. It was no use trying to catch it in your hands, but you’d feel it drizzle all over your face every once in a while and spend your life trying to recreate that experience. That was all that wanting was: a smokescreen for the real thing.
And all her life, Catra had wanted Adora. Wanted to be with her all the time; wanted to touch her; wanted to climb into her veins and make a home in her pulse and be one with her. That had been a lot for a kid to process: what had registered as a pleasant kind of pressure at first had only grown more unbearable with time, and stayed with her now as an ache.
She’d thought it was a weakness, then; she saw now that it was just a consequence of her longing for happiness. Maybe her system just hadn’t gotten used to getting it from other sources yet. Maybe if she just acted on her desire, the pressure would go away. Maybe just once would satisfy her, and she could finally go on with her life.
That realization froze her on the spot, instead of pushing her into action. Adora noticed when Catra’s hands went still, and her laugh sounded sincere for the first time that night. “You aren’t listening to a word I say, are you?”
She squeezed Catra’s hands again to bring her attention back to her - as if she needed to, as if she was ever out of Catra’s mind - and Catra responded, squeezing back.
“No, I am. I just got a little lost there.” She frowned, trying to remember the last thing Adora had been talking about. She vaguely recalled a comment about a public hearing. “What were you saying about the Eternian court?”
Adora beamed, clearly pleased with Catra keeping up with her. That was the first step, right? To please her. “They seemed nice at first. They’d be incredibly sweet and helpful to me when they needed something, and they convinced me I could trust them. But the moment I disagreed or did something wrong, there they’d be, conspiring behind my back. I should’ve expected that, I guess. But it seems I never learn.”
Catra smirked, giving Adora a twirl. Once it was done, she didn’t try to pull her back - Adora stepped forward on her own. “Court intrigues. Nice. Did they try to overthrow you? Poison you? Did the people rise in rebellion against you?”
“I think you’re spending too much time with Double Trouble.”
“Hey, it’s not everyday that people see you as less than perfect. I’ve lived in a hole in the ground for the last year, this is all the entertainment I’ve got.”
Adora stayed quiet for a long time. Catra didn’t particularly care about it, but she did find the silence awkward, so she was about to ask if Adora was okay, if she’d gotten offended, somehow - before Adora finally spoke. “I never asked for it, you know. People treating me like I was perfect.”
“No. You always just were. You didn’t have to do anything.”
“You’re wrong,” Adora said, a little too forcefully. Even her movements turned erratic, her feet missing a couple beats. Catra’s eyes jumped up to hers. “And you clearly didn’t think I was perfect.”
Catra huffed. “You want me to be sorry?” Don’t be cruel, some part of her begged, but the other part of her, the part that held all the anger, said instead This is what she left you for.
“No,” Adora surprisingly replied, quietly but steadfastly. “I liked that about you - that you saw me. You saw me enough to hate me.”
“Well, I hear there’s a line for that now.” She didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it was always like this, with Adora. Love her or hate her, you could never hold her attention for too long. Everyone wanted a piece of her, and Adora was always willing to comply; Catra wondered now, as she looked upon Adora’s tired lines, how much was actually left.
“It was different with you. I trusted you not to hurt me.”
“Guess your trust was misplaced.”
Adora paused for a second, humming softly to the music. Her lips hovered right over Catra’s cheek, where her breath hit. “Do you still? Hate me?”
Had the circumstances been different, Catra probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. It was just a simple, if naive, question. But since Adora had gotten uncomfortably close by now, Catra scrambled for a way to regain the upper hand in the conversation.
She gripped Adora’s wrist tight, stopping her in her tracks - and there it was, the feeling of control, of turning the power that Adora held against Catra against Adora, instead. It must’ve been the little hitch in Adora’s breath, the way Adora’s pulse sped up under her fingers.
“More than you know,” she murmured. She wanted to add more about why that was, how whatever affection she still felt for Adora was so inextricably tied to her resentment that it was impossible to untangle them. How she felt that she had to be the one to look Adora in the eyes and watch the life be drained from her, and yet how Catra would let herself die on the spot if that ever happened. How it always seemed to come down to this, in the end - a desire for self-destruction. But she didn’t.
Catra felt Adora smirk against her skin. “That’s okay. I’ll let you hold the knife, if you promise not to strike.”
She hadn’t realized they’d slowly come to a stop until people started bumping into them. The music was also slowing down, true - but she could barely hear it over the rush of blood in her ears. Her tongue was tied for entirely different reasons than the prospect of being able to hold a knife to Adora’s throat - namely, Adora’s closeness, Adora’s low voice, Adora’s hand running up her side -
“No promises,” Catra breathed out, “I’m sick of them.”
Adora didn’t make a sound, but her hand reached out for Catra’s, and when she had it, she didn’t just hold it - she traced every finger slowly, painstakingly, and the space in between, too, and it felt like she would never reach the tip of her pinkie, like she’d keep torturing Catra like this forever - and then Catra eyed Bow and Glimmer on the other side of the room, staring at them, and moved even closer to Adora, just because she knew it would piss them off.
“Your friends are watching,” she murmured, making sure Adora felt every touch of her lips as she spoke. Sure enough, Adora did freeze under her, but whether that was due to Catra or the news itself, Catra couldn’t say. “I really don’t want to give them a show.”
Adora nodded again, but she resumed her ministrations. “What do you want, Catra?”
A thrill passed through her. She could take the out and push Adora off of her, or -
“Come with me.”
For the first time, Adora did.
Pulling on her hand, she led her through the chaos of dancing people, through the ballroom and the door and the corridor. It was scary, how much Catra felt in control of herself, of what was happening. That kind of power - not the cheap power she was given in the Horde as Force Commander, but the power that felt a lot like just freedom - she’d never felt anything like it.
They turned a corner and, figuring they were far enough away, Catra stopped and pulled Adora up against her, backing her against the nearest wall. The hallway was in complete darkness, until the moonlight from a window coming in, and she was pretty sure that Adora couldn’t see much at all. Still, her eyes never left Catra’s, not for one second - her pretty mouth opening on tense breaths, her chest rising and falling.
Something caught in Catra’s throat - something she choked down before she could give voice to it, before she could embarrass herself. “Look at you.”
Adora was playing with the tips of Catra’s hair, clenching her fists at the nape. She didn’t break eye contact. “What about me?”
“You’re under my thumb,” was what left Catra’s mouth, her head a litany of You’re beautiful I want to have you I’m going to have you-
“Am I, though?” Adora’s grip suddenly tightened as she tipped Catra’s head backwards. “You seem pretty eager, Catra. How long have you been thinking about this?”
“What, getting you to finally shut up? Been a lifelong dream of mine.”
“You like me,” Adora smiled; it looked so carefree on her, so far from the scorn Catra was expecting, that it almost broke the gravity of the moment - almost, because Adora’s breath still hitched halfway through, but the way she laughed - the way she was suddenly reminded of her Adora, except she was now pulling at Catra’s hair -
It was on pure impulse that Catra leaned forward and pressed her lips to Adora’s skin - the spot between neck and collarbone, which was eye level with her. She’d gone in with the intention to tease, steal a quick peck to gain back control and then pull back, but then Adora sighed and she wanted to hear it again. And again. And again. “Arrogance is not a good look on you, Adora.” She mouthed lightly up the curve of her neck and beyond - not quite kissing, so much as letting her presence be felt. “But I’ll make do.”
Adora arched into Catra’s touch, her throat now fully exposed - Catra’s nails raking possessively down the tender skin she was offered. She was reaching dangerous territory now. Soon enough, she’d be hovering over Adora’s lips. Soon enough their noses would brush. She stayed there a while, taking her in, waiting for anyone to come out of the ballroom and stop her from doing this, but no one did.
“You said you wouldn’t break me.”
Catra looked down at where her nails were gripping too hard, already leaving marks on Adora’s neck.
Maybe Catra once would have rejoiced in Adora looking afraid of her. Maybe Catra once would have reminded that she’d actually made no promises, and proceeded to slash her throat and put an end to both of their miseries. She didn’t now. She wiped the first droplets of blood that were welling up with her thumb instead, rubbing the same spot over and over in way of an apology. “I’m not gonna break you,” she vowed, clawed fingers resting easy now. “I’m gonna kiss you. Like this.”
An unmistakable intake of breath on Adora’s part, and Catra brought Adora’s lips to hers.
Because here was the thing: despite her insistence otherwise, despite a life lived in order to prove everyone who thought this about her wrong, Catra was weak. She loved things and people way too much, and cried when they were taken away. And Adora, God, she was weakest for Adora. Nothing anyone else could do or say to her affected her the same way, and when Adora started responding, warm mouth engulfing hers, Catra drew back. Adora’s touch burned; it made her feel too large for her own skin, like she could just crawl out of it and be all the better for it.
Adora seemed mortified. Catra had barely kissed her, and yet - or maybe, for that exact reason - she already looked so wrecked. It was distracting. “I-I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before. Was that so bad?”
Catra raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”
“Am I a bad kisser? I can just let you handle it, if you want. What you were doing was really nice.”
What Catra had been doing was brush her lips against Adora’s, softly and fearfully. She didn’t have much experience, either. “No, I mean - have you really never kissed anyone?”
Adora seemed surprised. “Have you?”
Her own embarrassment battled with a stronger, more overwhelming feeling of possessiveness. Adora had never kissed anyone but her. For the rest of her life, when Adora thought about her first kiss or she was asked about it, this moment was what would come to mind. Power thrummed beneath her fingertips as she traced the lines of Adora’s face again. “No,” she whispered, enjoying Adora’s eyes on her. “No. It’s just you.” It’s always been just you.
Adora had carved a permanent place for herself in Catra’s mind when Catra had been too young to defend herself against it - and then she’d left and left her empty inside. It was only fair for Catra to do the same now.
She dived back in eagerly, pushing Adora far back into the wall, and didn’t pull away until Adora started gasping for breath, and the music in the ballroom stopped and the first people started filing out.
Glimmer didn’t touch her like Catra.
They were extremely similar in everything else - their feistiness, their devotion to the things and the people they loved, their need to prove themselves - but Glimmer’s touch was casual and unrushed where Catra’s, whether sweet or rough, was always filled with intent.
Glimmer wiped Adora’s make-up off, their knees touching on the same Bright Moon bed, and it was easy enough and pleasant, but a hunger had started deep inside her that Glimmer couldn’t sate - that she probably had no idea even existed within her - and if Adora trembled everytime Glimmer’s fingers came too close to the marks on her neck, it was only because Adora imagined claws making contact with her skin instead.
Glimmer observed her carefully, flinching when she did. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”
“No.” It sounded more like a question than an actual answer. “It just burns a little.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be gentler.” She resumed dabbing, but more slowly. “Sorry I don’t have more specific wipes. I didn’t even know you wore make-up now.”
“I don’t,” Adora confirmed. “The royal tailors made me. They said their hard work couldn’t be wasted on someone who didn’t even bother looking good.”
Glimmer scoffed. “You’re a princess. Don’t let them speak to you like that.”
Adora waved Glimmer’s hand away, tiredness suddenly seeping in and dragging her down onto the mattress. She could’ve had her old room back for the night, if she’d wanted to, and she would definitely ask if her stay ended up being longer than planned, but right now, she didn’t mind sleeping with Glimmer. She’d never liked sleeping alone, and she liked it even less now in her empty palace, so this was a nice change. It almost felt like old times again, except Bow wasn’t there. He’d just gone home after the party, and Glimmer hadn’t thought of inviting him to sleep over. “Apparently, they were appointed by my parents. Firing them would mean disrespecting their legacy, or something.”
“I didn’t say fire them, but you need to establish some boundaries, Adora.” Glimmer leant over her, wiping at Adora’s mouth for the last of the lipstick to come off. Her friend smelled good, having just taken a shower, and her pajamas felt so soft and warm it made Adora want to fall asleep right then and there. “Hey, come on, I’m almost done.”
Adora groaned. “You know, at first I even thought it was kinda fun. But now? Doesn’t matter how hot I look. I’m never doing it again.”
Glimmer smirked, finally putting the wet wipes away. “If that makes you feel any better, though, you’ve really turned heads tonight.”
“What are you talking about?” Her friends had fought for her attention all night, that was true, but she’d hardly call that “turning heads”.
“You haven’t noticed? Wait, of course you haven’t,” she sighed, dropping down next to Adora. “Some things really don’t change.”
“I was busy,” Adora said, which wasn’t really a lie. Also, she’d never been good at reading feelings, either her own or those of others.
She thought Glimmer would point it out to her again, that she’d suggest she needed to be less clueless, but instead she rolled her eyes and went, “Yeah, with Catra. What was that about, anyway?” and that was a little more difficult to answer.
“Catching up with an old friend?” she attempted.
“You two haven’t had one conversation that didn’t result in attempted murder in two, maybe three years.”
Adora turned her face into the pillow, muffling a groan, because that was a fair point. A normal conversation with Catra was really all she wanted, but Catra had let her speak all the while, only interrupting for a sarcastic jab here and there, while volunteering nothing about her own life. And then Catra had just kissed her, a lot, and neither of them had been able to get any words in.
“That doesn’t matter. We may not be friends anymore, but I still care about her happiness, more than-” Anything wasn’t right. She clearly hadn’t cared about her happiness the most when she’d left her behind, or when she’d looked past Shadow Weaver’s mistreatment, or just been a terrible friend all around who never knew when to shut up and when to speak up. And now here she was again, using Catra to feel better about herself.
It’s not like she didn’t know what a kiss meant, how it could complicate things - but when the moment had come, she’d wanted to be kissed. Being close to Catra again, physically if not emotionally, had made her feel more like herself than she’d felt since - well, since she’d lost her powers.
Perhaps Catra had a point not wanting anything to do with her. “More than I realized.”
Glimmer’s eyes softened in the dim light. “There’s nothing wrong in still caring about her, Adora, as long as that’s all there is. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” Adora said, deciding not to tell Glimmer about offering herself up to Catra’s scorn and judgment and resentment like a sacrificial lamb.
Glimmer thought in silence for a while. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say she’s okay now,” she mumbled eventually, “but she is so clearly trying.”
Adora smiled at that. Something fuzzy was starting in her heart - something warm. Pride, maybe. She closed her eyes and thought of Catra again, and the feeling grew almost to an ache. “I’m glad. I want that for her.”
“She’s trying,” Glimmer repeated, “and I don’t want that to be for nothing. I don’t want her to get hurt, either.”
Adora blinked, confused. “Are you saying that if she relapsed, it would be my fault?”
“I’m saying it could happen. You’ve always been her greatest weakness. You unravel her so easily.”
Unravel. That was such a pretty word - it turned ugly in Glimmer’s mouth. To unmake, to strip something down to its bare essentials. She unravels me too, she wanted to say, except Catra was not as strong as she pretended to be and for Adora to show up out of nowhere and follow Catra around all night while she was just trying to have a nice, quiet time now did sound so unnecessarily cruel, and made her ashamed of herself. When would she learn, when would she stop being this naive little girl, clearly unqualified to take care of any of her friends, let alone an entire planet?
Glimmer, however, must’ve seen Adora already berating herself. Unlike her, Glimmer always saw, and responded accordingly. “Maybe it’s better for some things to be left alone. Friends grow apart. That’s part of life.”
She heard that a lot. Catra was evil; she’d changed while Adora wasn’t looking or maybe right under her eyes, and she was just supposed to accept it. Even when they were in the Horde, it was no secret that Shadow Weaver hoped Adora would one day come to her senses and leave Catra behind, and if Adora hadn’t already done her job for her, Shadow Weaver would no doubt have tried to drive the wedge between them herself. But it made Adora wonder if any bond could stand the trials of time, if closeness was any guarantee of survival. So she asked Glimmer. “Is that what happened with you and Bow?”
Adora didn’t notice a lot, but she could tell Glimmer didn’t expect that question, because her close proximity made it impossible not to feel her muscles freeze. No surprise showed on her face, but her reply was cautious. “Quite the opposite. Bow and I… we were together for a while.”
She gauged Adora’s reaction, although Adora had no clue what she was hoping to find. She was having trouble processing that last bit of information. “Together, like-”
“Dating. In a relationship. You get the idea.”
And she was having trouble because it was absolutely the last thing she would expect, and also somehow… not. She’d never thought of Bow and Glimmer together, but now that Glimmer brought it up, it made perfect sense. The idea glared at her from afar, scorning her for having missed it. It was digging yet another hole for her heart to be swallowed by. “But when - no, forget it. How did I not know about this?”
Glimmer grabbed her wrist to keep it still; she hadn’t even realized she was waving her hands around like a maniac. “I swear we weren’t trying to cut you out or anything, Adora. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while and then we’d tell everyone, but - well, that time never came. We broke up three months after.”
And hell, she didn’t want to be nosy, but her best friends had hidden a significant part of their lives from her, and now it carried over into their trio interactions. If things were going to be awkward between them from now on, if she had to get used to this too, now, to ties being cut, to secrets being kept, then at least she had a right to know why.
“Is it…” Adora hesitated. “Is it okay if I ask you what happened?”
Glimmer looked like she could use talking about it, as well. Adora wondered if she’d told anyone else at all. She could’ve deflected the first question, or simply lied, but she hadn’t; she’d come clean right away. Adora had given her another out right now, but she didn’t take that, either.
“It felt so good, at first. Like that’s how it was always meant to be. Have you ever felt like that, Adora?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never been with anyone. You know that.”
“No, but that doesn’t matter, it’s - a kind of understanding. It dawns on you at the most random times. You could be hanging out with someone you’ve known your whole life, and then it just hits you, and your world tilts slightly to the side, and things… just make sense.”
Adora had also heard that a lot - that everything would eventually make sense. She’d gotten some answers, eventually - about the Horde, about the Heart of Etheria - but they had never just come to her. All the knowledge Adora had, she had to fight for, had to demand.
And then there were things that she would never be able to explain, like why Catra had turned her back on her, what had made her hate Adora so much. Their world had always been a hopeless mess that no one had bothered to explain to them, but the day Adora had found Catra was also the day she’d started feeling less lost. As kids, she’d been the only thing that made sense.
Adora felt herself teetering on the edge of a realization, but one bound with thorns, that came with a red warning sign. So she pushed it down in some hidden drawer of her consciousness, where it found good company. Everything Adora was unwilling or unable to deal with, she’d learnt to dispose of. “I haven’t,” she confirmed.
Glimmer stared at her for a while, unconvinced, like she expected her to add a but in there. But she didn’t. “Well, that’s what it was like, for me. And it was just… a lot. It was too much. My queenly duties were entirely forgotten. I was no longer interested in the world I was supposed to be ruling, but only in the world I was discovering. I had to break things off. I knew if I told him the real reason, he’d try to work things out, try to find a way to keep us together, because you know Bow, that’s how he is - and I’d let him. So I told him to stay away from me, that this was a mistake.”
“Glimmer.” Adora meant to sound more scolding than that, but the truth is, she felt for her. She couldn’t bring herself to show even the slightest disapproval when Glimmer was clearly hurting.
“If those feelings had stayed buried, if I hadn’t acted on them, I wouldn’t know. I’d be better off. Do you understand why I’m saying this, Adora? What I was trying to tell you before, about Catra?”
“What does Catra have to do with you and Bow?”
“When I said I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Glimmer said, “this is what I meant.”
Oh.
Something inside her sparked to life again, kicking and screaming. Hear me out, it begged, I’ve been trying to reach you. Adora had to push that stubborn flicker of awareness down again. “Wait, you think I-”
“Adora, it’s okay.” Glimmer reached out to her, but Adora was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed, so she shook her off, though not unkindly. “I’m not going to pry or judge you. I just want what’s best for you - both of you, surprisingly.”
“I don’t have feelings for Catra.”
“You wouldn’t tell me if you did. You wouldn’t even tell yourself. But I’ve seen the way you look at each other, Adora. Nothing can come of it right now. I don’t want you to have to return to Eternia with a broken heart.”
“Glimmer, I’ve got it,” Adora insisted. Glimmer was looking at her worriedly, but she was making a bigger deal out of it than it needed to be. Catra had always just been Catra to her. Nothing with Catra had ever felt weird, or too strong, or too much. No feeling had ever overcome her all at once to make her reevaluate her entire life. It had always been sure, and steady, and safe - even in its broken, unspoken parts.
Which had to stay unspoken for a reason.
She used to think there would be a time for her to let it all out - everything that hurt, that bothered her, that kept her up at night, and everything that made her profoundly happy, too. After she led the Horde to victory. After Etheria was free again, and the war was done. After no one needed She-Ra anymore. She’d been a fool; everyone would always need her. She wasn’t sure if she could survive otherwise.
“Don’t worry,” Adora whispered in the dim light, finally laying back down to sleep. “My heart will be fine.”
It gave one last beat before following Adora into sleep, slowing down to match her breathing, as if to save its strength.