Chapter Text
It always starts the same.
Things are fine, until they aren't.
A normal day, a normal scene. Familiar faces, laughing and talking before they distort, twist into unrecognizable blurs and the only one that's distinct is one she doesn't want to see. Sometimes, she can't even see it, like her brain is trying to protect her. Sometimes, she only knows whether the face following her down the endless hallways is Shadow Weaver or Horde Prime based on whether she sees red or green.
This time, it's red. She tries to close her eyes, but she can see Shadow Weaver through her closed lids. Adora is running, and Shadow Weaver isn't moving but she's still in front of her at every turn like she's attached to her. They're in the Northern Reach. Why are they in the Northern Reach? It looks different, somehow. Outside the windows of the Horde complex she can see the endless expanse of space rather than swirling snow.
Shadow Weaver speaks to her, but the words just sound like static. Adora knows she isn't good enough. She knows that must be what Shadow Weaver is saying. The front of her mask splits into a mouth and she repeats it soundlessly again and again.
Adora tries to speak too, but words won't come out. The mouth splits wider, and Adora's side splits too. The wound the security beast gave her is even wider this time and she can feel the poison sinking into her faster.
Heaviness sets into her limbs even faster than last time, and she collapses to the floor. In the endless starry void outside the window, the Heart hangs above like a moon and no matter how tightly she closes her eyes she can still see its bright light and she can see Shadow Weaver standing above her before she too collapses to the floor with the violent jerk. Adora tries to scream, but nothing will come out.
She closes her eyes even tighter, but the sight of Shadow Weaver's dead body is visible anyway. She's Shadow Weaver, but then she's Horde Prime. It's Horde Prime lying dead before her, but he doesn't stay dead for long. He opens his four horrible eyes but they are a pale blue like Adora's own instead of their normal glowing green. They're Adora's eyes looking at her from his face. Adora opens her mouth to scream, but nothing will come out.
With slow labored motions Horde Prime begins to crawl toward her. When he reaches her, she will die. She knows this somehow. With each inch he moves toward her the failsafe symbol on her chest grows. It grows and it burns. When he reaches her, it will become so large it will rip her into pieces. It is an inescapable fate.
She tries to crawl away, but her legs are broken and she realizes she's lying below the drop on Horde Prime's ship. Catra. She jumped after Catra when Prime forced her to fall over the edge, that's right. She reaches for Catra, but she isn't there. It's just Adora, alone on the ship at the bottom of the long drop with the Heart looming over her. Just her and Horde Prime, alone.
While Shadow Weaver was wordless, Horde Prime speaks as he draws ever nearer and his voice booms loud enough to hurt her ears. Above her, the Heart is pounding loudly like a real human heart.
"There will be no future. Not for you."
Adora wakes up just seconds before he reaches her, his horrible hand inching toward her throat. It's unclear whether the dream itself is responsible for waking her or the real, actual scream tearing from her throat that she was unable to get out in her dream. The failsafe sigil glows brightly as she sits up and the blanket slides off her chest. It's instantly clear the pounding of the Heart was her own actual heart. It's still thudding in her ears.
This isn't the first time one of her dreams has made her feel like she's having a heart attack. In fact, it's been nearly every night since the end of the war. It never gets any easier, though.
Briefly, she wonders if she should visit the palace doctor, but decides against it. The medical staff already has their work cut out for them patching up those with various degrees of injuries from the war, particularly the final battle. She doesn't want to be a bother. Instead, she curls into the fetal position on her side, placing both hands over the failsafe sigil but it isn't enough to block out the glow.
The racing of her heart is so intense it stirs nausea in her stomach. Sharp jabs of panic course through her, and despite the warmth of her room, shivers wrack her body. There has to be something really wrong, but she can't imagine what it could be.
This has happened in the past, back in the Fright Zone when Shadow Weaver was being particularly nasty to she or Catra or in this same bed when the Horde was backing the Rebellion into a corner and a battle had gone particularly bad, but those were fairly few and far between all things considered. Now it seems like it's every day. Briefly, she wonders if she's dying. During the war she always had something better to think about, like war strategy or training. Now, she has no distractions. No battles to plan, no training to look forward to. Just she and her thoughts, alone.
Curling into a tighter ball doesn't help stave off the agony she's wrapped in. The scar on her side from when she nearly died at the Heart is throbbing, and she brings one hand up to touch it, brushing her fingertips over its defined ridge under her sleep shirt. In an attempt to soothe herself, she rubs it but it makes her sick. She hates touching it. When thinking of that day she tries to remember how she and Catra kissed, how they saved the universe with their love. But tonight her brain just replays the moments she struggled against her oncoming death in an endless void of pain and fear and her breathing comes in shallow gasps.
In the darkness of the room, her body begins to give off an uncanny glow. It's gold like the glow that often envelops She-ra, but on her it doesn't look or feel nearly as natural. Glowing particles drift through the air off her body, the physical manifestations of magic. Normally, she finds them beautiful but in this context they're more troubling than anything. She isn't trying to use or expel magic, it's just happening on its own.
Adora is sure she's going to pass out. Her breathing and heartbeat are out of control. Against the turmoil of it she uselessly balls her hands into fists, pressing them to her chest as she searches for some form of stability. Trapped this deep in her head, she barely registers the sound of her door opening and she tenses up more when she realizes it happened at all.
The logical part of her knows it's probably Bow or Glimmer. It isn't Shadow Weaver coming into her room like the time she escaped the Fright Zone. It isn't an enemy or a threat. But her body reacts like it is, her muscles tensing automatically like she's about to be in a fight. Instinctively she tries to materialize her sword, but a bright little flash of gold in her palm is all she can manage.
All of this happens in a matter of seconds and she's distracted from this new problem when the soft glow of teal eyes make themselves known in the dark.
"Melog?" Adora calls into the dark. She knows the alien space cat accompanied Catra on her community service cleaning up Beast Island, so what is it doing here?
A small echoey meow in response. Before Adora can even move to get up, Melog pads over to the bed and leaps up. Its significant weight shifts the mattress with a creak and it curls itself protectively around Adora's body. For the first time tonight, Adora relaxes a little.
"What are you doing here? Is Catra here with you?" Adora asks. Melog shakes its head. "Is Catra okay?" this time, an affirmative nod. "Why are you back here by yourself?"
Melog meows again and starts to purr. It curls itself a little more securely around Adora. For probably the thousandth time Adora wishes she could understand Melog's meows like Catra can. But for now she's too exhausted to question it. She buries her face in Melog's paw and slowly, her breathing returns to normal.
Eventually, she falls back into an uneasy sleep.
***
"If we're going to be allocating this many medical supplies to Erelandia we need to make up the difference by trading extra purified drinking water to Elberon in exchange for what we'll need."
The weekly meeting allocating supplies to the still war torn areas of Etheria is much like war strategy, and Adora is relieved to be in her element. It keeps her mind clear of the sorts of thoughts she's been having.
"Salineas can provide the water. We've got plenty now that our desalinator is back up and running." Mermista is filing her nails as she speaks. Her feet are propped lazily up on the war table, her posture relaxed.
"Great," Glimmer claps her hands together. "Now there's the matter of scheduling rebuilding efforts for the week. We'll need to send a team to the spire outside Thaymor to gather scrap metal and transport it to the Fright Zone so it can be melted down in the forge there."
"The builders of Thaymor have been working on dismantling the spire," Bow chimes in. "How long before the first shipment of it is ready to be picked up?"
"No longer than three days. We'll keep the lines of communication open." The Thaymor representative is a short saytr woman. She looks nothing like Shadow Weaver, and there is an air of benevolence about her. But there is something there in the quality of her voice and before she knows it Adora is a child again. Her heart races like she's standing between Shadow Weaver and Catra but she's helpless to do anything to stop it.
She pushes the feelings down, reminding herself she's here in the war room in the palace. The war is over, the war is over. She is safe. So why doesn't she feel like she is? She wants to run away, wants to escape but there isn't anything to escape from.
"Thank you," Glimmer replies graciously. "We'll send out a team to make the transport as soon as it's ready."
"You're welcome." The Thaymor representative isn't Shadow Weaver. She isn't Shadow Weaver. Adora reminds herself over and over but it doesn't click when she's just heard her repeat Shadow Weaver's last words. The world around her seems to be melting away though she can still see it. The pounding of her heart echoes in her ears and the voices of her friends around her dissolve into nonsense.
Without really meaning to, Adora stands up from the table with enough force that her chair clatters to the floor.
"Adora? Is something wrong?" It's Bow's concerned voice that cuts through the chatter enough for Adora to ground herself. Hearing his familiar voice helps Adora hold it together enough to cobble together a response.
"N-no! I just…remembered something I have to do!" Adora has never been a good liar and now is no exception. Her voice is several octaves higher than normal. A few of the princesses exchange looks amongst themselves. "I um…have to go. Right now? Sorry!"
Even as she speaks the pressure in her chest is building. Side stepping her fallen chair she makes a beeline for the door. Being in the corridor doesn't feel as much better as she expects. Every step she takes away from that room and that voice is supposed to make her feel better, isn't it?
Instead, each of her muscles is tensed, poised for battle. It doesn't seem like she can possibly reach her bedroom fast enough, the walls threatening to close in on her at any moment. This level of rising panic plays tricks on her mind and for all she knows she could be here or in the Fright Zone. It takes her actually looking over her shoulder as she runs to remind herself fully the world isn't coming apart behind her, swallowing everything and everyone she cares about like it did back in the portal.
By the time she reaches her bedroom and slams the door shut behind her, she's winded enough she might as well have run all the way from the forge to the barracks. She leans her back against the door both for support and a sense of safety but it doesn't come.
Briefly she debates on locking the door but decides against it. She doesn't want to feel trapped. She already feels trapped even without it locked. All she wants is to run away, but there's nowhere to run. She's already safe, at home in Bright Moon and the war is over. The war is over. Why doesn't it feel like the war is over?
Everything shuts off when she catches sight of her communicator on the table beside her bed. A green light blinks on its indicator panel. She missed a transmission. Relief at the idea of a distraction unlocks enough of her muscle tension that Adora can make it to her bed and grab the communicator. Catra. A missed transmission from Catra. Even just her name in the digital display gives Adora hope and she returns her call as quickly as she can with her shaking hands refusing to cooperate.
Catra picks up almost immediately. The twisted metal abominations behind her on the small screen take Adora back to the time she nearly succumbed to the signal there and sunk to the floor to rot, and a fresh surge of panic claws at her throat. She struggles not to let it show, but Catra notices immediately.
"What's up? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine," Adora assures her quickly, unconvincingly. Catra raises an eyebrow.
"No you're not. What's going on?"
"I'm just stressed." It's more truthful than her previous statement, at least. "There's a lot going on here."
Luckily, Catra seems to take it to mean the things Adora has been doing for the war cleanup effort. "Well take a break or something. You look tired. You haven't been sleeping?"
"I've been trying to," Adora promises. "There's just so much to deal with." She doesn't tell Catra that the things she needs to deal with are actually these strange episodes she's been having, seemingly set off by everything and nothing at all. She doesn't tell Catra about the crushing, bruising wave of panic that creeps in at the slightest provocation, threatening to swallow her whole. She just leaves it as vague as possible and hopes Catra will accept it. She's already working hard on Beast Island, toiling away on her mandated community service. All of the high ranking Horde officers were assigned to community service as part of the peace treaty Glimmer and Hordak signed and she has no idea how long it will take for Catra to finish this part of hers. She doesn't need to have Adora's problems hanging over her head too.
"Did Melog help you sleep?" Catra asks, and at the mention of its name Melog lifts its head behind Adora, peering at the screen and giving Catra a meow of greeting. "Sparkles called me this morning to tell me it was there."
"Oh, yeah." Adora reaches for Melog, running a hand over its smooth head and then scratching under its chin. "Melog just kinda showed up last night. Did you send it to me?"
"Nope, that was all Melog." Catra grins. "It must have known you were sleeping bad."
"And you? How have you been sleeping?" Talking to Catra has calmed her somewhat despite her still racing heart, but she can't help fretting.
"Like a baby," Catra promises. "Been doing a lot of heavy lifting hauling the broken tech onto skiffs, so I pass out pretty quick every night."
"And it's safe?" Adora hates thinking of her girlfriend there on Beast Island, especially with how dangerous it was the last time she went there herself.
"Totally safe. Now that Entrapta disabled that signal that was messing with all the organic life here the creatures pretty much leave us alone. Well, for the most part. They all love Scorpia so…"
"How long until you're back for a break?" Adora doesn't want to sound too desperate, but she wants to see her.
"What, you miss me too much?" Catra asks it in a teasing tone, but Adora nods earnestly.
"Of course I do."
Catra blushes. "Well, it should probably be a couple more weeks, but then we'll have some time off before we come back here again. Think you can hang in there until then?"
"I can try," Adora doesn't mean to let so much vulnerability show, and Catra's expression softens.
"Hey, I can come back early if you need me to." Concern furrows her pretty brow.
"No, you don't need to come back early for me. The sooner you finish the sooner you won't ever have to go back." Adora is reminding herself of this as much as she's reminding Catra. "How is it? Are you doing okay there?"
"I actually like it." Catra is always full of surprises. "It feels good to be doing something to fix things after everything I did during the war. I can change things for the better for once."
"And you're doing okay?"
"Yeah. I'm doing fine. But what about you? I wasn't gonna ask about this but um. You're glowing. Is this some kind of new She-ra thing, or…"
It isn't surprising to see that by now familiar glow when she looks down, but Adora's cheeks still burn. She's been hoping to have this sorted out before Catra came home so she wouldn't find out about this whole embarrassing mess.
"Oh, that. Yeah." She laughs nervously, brushing some of the floating particles of magic out of the air with her hand. "Don't worry about it. I've got it under control."
Catra's brow furrows again. "Is it dangerous?"
"Huh? No way. No, it's totally fine!" Adora shakes her head fervently. "Don't worry about me."
"Are you sure? Because your voice is like, really high right now."
"I'm sure!" Adora is surprised to hear it come out a little sharp, and she deflates as quickly as she became reactive. "I'm sorry, Catra. It's just a little embarrassing, is all.
"Is it? I guess I don't know much about all this magic stuff. It all seems weird to me."
"So you think I'm weird?" Adora asks her, trying to sound cheeky despite the fact that she still hasn't calmed down all the way.
"Oh definitely." Catra's grin soothes her heart just a bit. "That's why I like you."
"Ooh, so you're admitting it. You like me."
"Duh." Catra blushes. "I love you, idiot."
Adora's cheeks warm too at that. "I love you too." Idiot has become the closest thing to a pet name the two of them are comfortable with so far. Growing up in the Horde means neither of them are well versed in showing affection in a standard way, but they're managing well enough.
"Catra, where'd you go? Are you hurt buddy? I'm coming!" Scorpia's voice cuts into the intimacy between them and the blush on Catra's face deepens instantly. Scorpia comes into view with Entrapta and Hordak in tow, glancing around desperately before she catches sight of her. "Oh! Sorry."
"I got a call from Adora, remember?" Catra holds her temper back admirably as she calls out to her over her shoulder. "No privacy around here. Honestly." She adds this last bit directed to Adora.
"Hi, Adora!" Entrapta waves.
"Hi." Adora hopes her wave isn't too feeble. She still isn't feeling her best.
"I guess I should go. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Love you." Adora says it quietly, not wanting to embarrass Catra. She whispers it back and before she knows it Adora is left with just a black screen.
Rubbing a hand over her tired eyes, Adora lets herself fall backward onto the bed. She had hoped that talking to Catra would magically make her feel completely better, would take away all of these strange and turbulent feelings. She'd hoped against all logic for a quick fix, for this all to go away as soon as she saw her face so she could get back to all the things she needed to worry about without having to carry all of this around with her.
Unfortunately it was just wishful thinking, because her heart still feels just as heavy. It doesn't seem to want to stop pounding even now and Adora presses both hands to it where the failsafe glows even brighter than the rest of her body, trying in vain to soothe it somehow. It doesn't work.
"Adora?" Bow's voice echoes from the hallway. "Can I come in?"
Oh no. Adora looks down at her still-glowing body. No one can see her like this. Not even Bow. She doesn't want to worry anyone, especially Bow. He already has a penchant for worrying and if he knew about whatever this is, she's sure he would run himself ragged trying to figure it out for her. And so she does what the Horde taught her, as distasteful as it feels so be falling back in those lessons now; she remains out of sight.
"Um…no!" she tries to think of an excuse, but nothing comes to mind so she just lets it hang in the silence.
"Um…okay. I'll just talk to you from here. What happened back there? Are you okay?"
It's still hard for her to lie, but it's easier when they aren't face to face. "Oh yeah. Totally. I just um…you know."
"Uh…no. I don't." Bow still sounds concerned. "Adora, whatever this is, you can talk to me."
"I'm just stressed," she tells him. It's maybe close to honest? The pounding of her heart, the racing of her mind…this definitely feels like stress. Or something like stress. Something tighter and hotter and more sinister, but its shape is something close to stress. "That's all. Really."
"Did you get overwhelmed by the meeting? I know the rebuilding efforts are a lot and it's hard to get our feet in the door."
"Yes." She did get overwhelmed, that was for sure. "I think I just need some time to myself. To clear my head."
"Okay…" Bow still doesn't sound entirely convinced, but Adora can't dump her problems on him. Not now. As tech master of the rebellion he's so busy building things to help with the relief efforts that he barely has time for anything else. She doesn't need to add anything more to his already full plate. "But Adora…you can talk to me. You know that, right?"
Adora wants more than anything to run to the door and open it and let him hug her like she knows he would if she did. But how would she explain any of this? She doesn't even know what it is. And so she doesn't. She stays on her bed.
"Right."
It's all she says, because it's all she can think to say. When Bow eventually leaves to go back to the meeting and she's alone with herself once more, she isn't able to do any of that head clearing she told Bow she was going to do. Her head has never felt less clear. Inside her chest and stomach it's like thousands of tiny things are struggling to get out. Instinctively, she can't help rocking back and forth.
The war is over, she reminds herself over and over again. Her body won't listen. It doesn't seem to care.
***
Under a void and starless sky, Etheria shudders like a scared beast. Its surface cracks and splinters with roars and creaks. It isn't clear whether this is the portal or the Heart that's ripping the planet to shreds but either way the effect is the same. It obliterates everything in its path and Adora is running, running but she can't escape. It's always just feet behind and it rips and tears with an endless hunger to destroy everything. It's nearly alive.
One by one it disintegrates nameless faceless gray people, people she can't recognize but who call out to her nonetheless. She's supposed to save them, isn't she? She's supposed to save them but she can't. Her feet have turned to lead and she's no longer running, she's frozen in place and all she can do is watch as it eats them alive one by one. She knows some of them must be her friends, her loved ones, but she can't recognize them. Their faces are all blank gray slates but as she looks closer she realizes they all share a single feature: Catra's mismatched eyes.
One by one they fall under the all present force and Adora realizes they're letting themselves be consumed. They're not reaching out for help anymore. They're striding directly into the path of the incoming horror.
Adora calls out to them but her voice won't make a sound. She grabs one of them instead and they all turn to look at her. Their previously mismatched eyes glow a piercing sickly green. They continue to let themselves be swallowed by the glowing abyss until only one remains and Adora pulls at the figure's arm desperately, trying to stop its path toward the inevitable. Rather than just the pair of glowing chipped eyes there is a second pair of them, these ones a glittering purple.
"Take care of each other."
Though the mostly featureless figure has no mouth, it speaks to her anyway, Angella's last words repeated but layered over Angella's voice is Horde Prime's and Shadow Weaver's and the eerie, soulless voice Catra used when chipped.
The figure reaches out and grabs her by the arm. In quick searing waves the poison from that horrible First Ones security beast flows into her. It reaches each of her limbs and up to her head, it burns in her chest and her heart pounds her head pounds she's unable to catch her breath she's collapsing to her knees as the figure stands over her and all at once it's just Angella, but then it's Shadow Weaver and its face flickers back and forth between the two wildly differing sets of features.
Adora is screaming but nothing comes out, Angella Shadow Weaver Angella is screaming too and the security beast is behind her. Adora tries to warn her to run away but nothing comes out. Nothing comes out and she's screaming, her body is laced with pain from the poison and the beast pulls Shadow Weaver Angella Shadow Weaver into its horrifying maw, she disappears into its form at the same moment the glowing crackling void of the portal swallows the beast whole.
It swallows Adora too, she can feel herself disintegrating she's whittled down to nothing. She's screaming but sound won't come out. She's screaming and she's dying, her body being torn into atoms by the portal but then she's awake, she's awake and she's in her bed in a pool of sweat, limbs still thrashing. This time she's already glowing bright and the air around her is so filled with particles of floating magic it looks like it's snowing in her bedroom.
The dream quickly fades to nothing but the physical effects don't. The racing of her heart, the heavy breathing she can't seem to slow, it all lingers far beyond the realm of dreams and she's left in shambles. Curling into a ball has become standard after a nightmare and she pulls her knees up to her chest, placing her hands over the failsafe and trying in vain to steady her breathing. It doesn't work. Nothing works.
***
Even with the turbulence of her mind reaching out in its attempts to ensnare her more frequently than she would like to admit, the scent of the budding Etherian summer is a sweet and welcome perfume. It wafts on the breeze through the treetops at the edge of the Whispering Woods and brushes reassuringly through Adora's hair as she joins several of the other Princess Alliance members in the Erelandian square.
'Maybe fresh air is what I need'.
It's what Adora tells herself, but she isn't honestly sure how true it is. Regardless, she's here and she may as well make the most of it. Erelandia isn't going to rebuild itself, so it doesn't really matter what it is Adora needs. The needs of Etheria are far more important.
"What's the plan, Adora?" Frosta asks her, and it isn't until then Adora realizes she's supposed to be in charge. Somehow that hadn't even crossed her mind. Of course she is. When Glimmer isn't around the others tend to look to her as a sort of de facto leader. It's always been this way. She's used to this. So why does the thought of somehow giving the wrong instructions instantly make her head swim? Why now, with such low stakes, is the pressure suddenly too much to take?
"Um…" the faces of her friends look back at her expectantly as she clears her throat. Once again everyone is counting on her. She can't let them down. What if she lets them down? She swallows the panic, she forces it down but it comes in waves and the harder she tries to suppress it the more intensely it claws its way up her throat like a creature desperately trying to escape.
"Adora?" It's Perfuma's voice that catches her attention and her form seems to flicker because Adora is blinking so fast. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Yeah…" she stumbles over her words, nervously trying to laugh it off. "I'm just distracted. Sorry. Glimmer's instructions were to remove as much of the debris from the fight here as we can, so we should split into teams to cover as much area as we can." Adora is used to problem solving. She fought a whole war by problem solving. It's coming second nature again as soon as she starts laying out a plan, but there's still the nagging in the back of her mind that she's going to somehow let everyone down.
She's going to make the wrong decision, make the wrong call. She's going to do the wrong thing and everything is going to go wrong everything is going to go wrong she's going to disappoint everyone. She's going to disappoint everyone, but why is she thinking like this? Why is this rearing its head again when nothing is happening? Nothing is wrong. This is just a normal mission. What's happening to her? Adora suddenly feels lightheaded, but she brushes it off.
"Bow Sea Hawk and Frosta you take care of the square first. Perfuma and Mermista you're with me in the shopping district. Swift Wind, survey from above and let us know what kind of structural damage there is so we can put it in the report for later."
"You got it!" Swift Wind kicks off in a whirlwind of feathers, leaving the princesses to disperse to their assigned posts.
Unfortunately the damage to the shopping district is extensive. Carts lay on their sides, the fronts of several stores are ripped open, and a Horde tank is overturned in the center of the street. Adora purposely assigned herself away from the square where she fought Spinnerella, wanting to avoid those memories as best she can. But here, there are still echoes of the war all around. Cracks mar the cobblestones, a lasting reminder of the battles fought here. Adora tries to settle her breathing, tries to distract herself. She wants to run away.
Busying herself seems like the second best option.
Adora settles for gathering up as much debris as she can carry at once and transporting it to the wagon the group brought with them. Even with her brain trying to rebel against her, the warmth of the afternoon moons on her cheeks soothes away some of her tension.
"Hello, Adora!" Swift Wind drifts past. "There's some extensive structural damage on the outskirts of the city!" He drops his more professional voice then as he makes a lower pass over the street and hovers above her, his wings kicking up dust. "Are you okay? I'm sensing some distress."
Oh. Of course Swift Wind would be able to tell she's having an issue. Their sacred bond allows him an intimate glimpse into her mind. There's an uncomfortable vulnerability in knowing she can't hide. Quickly, she nods. "I'm just stressed."
"Do you need to talk about it? Come on, get on my back and we can do some loop de loops while I help you melt all your cares away through the power of song. As your noble steed it is my duty to make sure you're in top mental shape!"
"That's okay." Adora remains planted firmly on the ground. "I have a lot to do down here."
"Well, if you're sure! But the offer doesn't expire. The sky awaits!" Swift Wind fixes her with a much longer and more probing look than she likes. It feels like he can see right through her, and honestly he probably can.
"Thanks. But I should really get back to work."
When Swift Wind returns to the sky to complete his surveying, Adora goes back to her own work as well. Her muscles strain under the effort of lifting so much at once. It would probably be more efficient if she took it in smaller armloads, but she's going for brute forcing all this so she doesn't have to think.
"Um…don't you think this would be easier as She-ra?" Mermista asks when she has to help her steady a load of debris that isn't particularly well balanced in her arms.
"Probably?" Adora laughs nervously. She's been doing everything in her power to make sure no one figures out she's been having trouble transforming again. With her emotions becoming increasingly volatile She-ra is harder and harder to connect with.
"Mermista is right, Adora," Perfuma chimes in. Adora doesn't miss the shadow of concern on her face. "Is there some reason you haven't transformed? You haven't been doing it all day."
"Nope!" Adora is a terrible liar and her voice cracks audibly. With a quick shout of her catchphrase she feels the magic enveloping her and she bargains silently, hoping with everything she has it will go smoothly. She's terrified of anyone finding out how much she's been struggling, how far she's felt from She-ra. But the sword flickers to life in her hand and her body grows. Consumed with magic and warmth as every part of her changes and grows she feels a brief sense of peace. Being She-ra feels good and right. It's what she's supposed to do, isn't it? What she's supposed to be.
Luckily, in spite of everything, the transformation goes off without a hitch. It feels good to be doing something, to be useful and making a difference. Since the end of the war she's been listless, drifting from room to room in the palace but now she's finally been stationed somewhere and having a sense of purpose once more quiets some of the static in her mind. She-ra makes short work of the debris that Adora's normal body struggled with. She is all power and magic and light and Adora wonders briefly if she would have ever had a place in the rebellion if she'd come to them without She-ra. If she was just Adora. If anyone besides Bow and Glimmer would have seen anything but a Horde soldier when they brought her to Bright Moon if the factor of her being She-ra hadn't come into play.
Shaking the thought away, she puts her back into it. She loads more debris than the cart should probably reasonably hold, just because she doesn't want to stop moving. As long as she's working her thoughts can't catch up to her.
Adora has never been the best at feelings, or naming them. So the strange desperation, something like fear that triggers her fight or flight response that keeps cropping up over the most mundane things…it's all very confusing. She's spent most of her life trying to ignore her own feelings but it's left her at a deep disadvantage now that she's not just a soldier, but a person. Being forced to live as a person, no one to fight. No purpose to fulfill. What good is she now?
"Hey, are you okay?" Mermista's hand on her shoulder startles her and she cries out, whipping around. A blast of magic erupts from her sword, tearing a gash in a nearby storefront and luckily missing Mermista by a foot or so. Adora swears she hears a cannon blast, its loud boom echoing out over the village and she whirls around again in the opposite direction, a second blast from her sword hitting a tree at the edge of town. She-ra's form flickers and she blinks between she and Adora several times.
"What was that? Did you hear that? Is somebody firing a cannon? What's going on?" She demands, her own voice shrill and strange. There's a ringing in her ears.
"Adora, chill. It's me." Mermista grabs her hand and all at once everything stops and she's grounded in reality once more. "Nobody is firing anything. I didn't hear anything. Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry…" the sword clatters to the ground and dematerializes. Adora wraps her arms around herself, but it doesn't bring any comfort. "I didn't mean to…"
"What's going on?" Mermista is more demanding than gentle, but Adora appreciates it. She doesn't know if she'd be able to handle gentle concern right now. It's part of the reason she stationed Bow with the other group. He knows her, would see right through her thin veil of normalcy. He would see her cracking apart. Unfortunately for Adora, Mermista sees too. Fortunately for Adora, Mermista is much calmer about confronting her than she's sure Bow would be.
"What do you mean? I–"
"You know what I mean. You got like two inches from blasting me with your sword. I'm not gonna like, force you to talk to me. But if there's something you wanna say, say it to me. I won't tell anybody."
"I've just…got a lot on my mind. That's all." It's a thin, feeble excuse. Mermista crosses her arms.
"You've always got a lot on your mind. You're always thinking about everything all the time and coming up with plans or something. This is something else. You don't have to talk to me but don't lie to me."
Ouch. Adora frowns, staring at the ground. She tries not to think too much, but it's impossible not to. Before she knows it she loses hold of She-ra and reverts to her normal form. It feels even more vulnerable to be smaller.
"Stuff is. Bothering me." It's the most eloquent that she can be.
"Obviously. But what?" Mermista sounds as deceptively flippant as ever, but there's genuine concern in her expression and Adora looks away. She doesn't want to have to meet her gaze. She doesn't want to have to explain herself, to pick through her feelings and sort them out. She doesn't want an uncomfortable conversation, not when she's the one who has the problem.
Adora is fairly good at being there when someone else has a problem, but when it's her own and it's one she doesn't know how to even begin to tackle? She just wants to hit something, like back in the Horde. Maybe they had the right idea about something, at least.
"It's…a lot to explain." Adora doesn't want to get defensive, but the prickles of panic that are starting to claw at her put her on a hair trigger, and she's worried she's going to get irritated with Mermista. This isn't her fault, she reminds herself. Mermista just cares about her.
"We've got all day," Mermista reminds her. Adora shakes her head.
"I'm good," she says it more bluntly and sharply than she means to. "Sorry. But you have your own stuff to worry about. I'll be okay. Really."
"If you're sure…" Mermista sounds skeptical, but Adora turns away to arrange things less precariously in the cart and pretends not to notice.
"Mermista…" Adora is tired. Exhausted. She doesn't even know how she's still standing. She feels sick. "Please…don't tell anyone about this. Okay?"
"Adora…" Mermista puts a hand on her hip. A hundred meters away, Perfuma is looking in their direction.
"Please. Please. Just…promise me, okay?" Adora doesn't expect to sound so desperate. She's sure it's pathetic. Mermista meets her eyes and she nods.
"I won't."
"Promise." Adora feels as paranoid as Shadow Weaver assured Glimmer she was, once. "Please."
"Okay. I promise."
***
Even from behind the sturdy walls of Bright Moon palace, the jagged peaks of Horde Prime's spires are visible towering over the landscape. They dot the horizon, a stark reminder of the war that's still so close behind them Adora could turn around and brush it with her fingertips.
Even now, within the safe pink marble walls of her home, echoes of the war are everywhere. A crack in the wall of the hallway from Prime's brief occupation of the palace– yet to be repaired with everything else still going on– catches Adora's eye on the way to the breakfast even on such a bright and cheery morning and it instantly makes itself known hanging over her head again like a dark cloud she can't shake.
Her heart pounds, and she clenches her hands into fists because it makes it easier to ignore their shaking. It's much harder to deal with the little reminders of the war today, at the tail end of such a stressful week of trying to block out and ignore the worst of the feelings and thoughts that cascade over her like waves of water every time she lets herself be without some sort of distraction.
"Are you okay, Adora?" Glimmer's voice pulls Adora from the constant mess of her own thoughts. Trust Glimmer to notice she's preoccupied. She's always had a knack for being able to tell when something is wrong. Truthfully Adora was so caught up in her thoughts she nearly forgot Glimmer was walking beside her. She comes into focus now and she turns her head to face her, a furrow in her brow and her sparkling eyes narrow with concern.
Since Adora started having these strange episodes she's been doing her best to act as normal as she can around Bow and Glimmer so they don't feel like they need to worry about her. Even with as bad of an actress as Adora is, Glimmer has luckily been too preoccupied with everything on her plate to notice. Unfortunately it's today of all days she notices, when Adora is at her absolute worst and she doesn't even know how she managed to get out of bed after the particularly long and horrifying string of nightmares last night, not to mention function well enough to get ready for another meeting.
"Huh? Yeah. I'm fine, I just…" she lets herself trail off, hands coming up to cover her arms, soothing away an imaginary chill. She can't think of anything to say. She's tired and stressed and she's sure the bags under her eyes are visible. She's sure she looks as bad as she feels.
"Just what?" Glimmer asks suspiciously.
Adora feels cornered, then. The beating of her heart speeds up, that familiar strange hot panic lacing its way through her body and building more and more in just seconds and it's hard to think, hard to see. The inexplicable urge to lash out at her friend comes and goes, leaving her confused and tired. Since when does Glimmer looking out for her bother her? Since when does she feel like a caged animal when someone cares for her? Maybe it's the guilt. The guilt at being a burden.
"I don't wanna talk about this right now," she tells her honestly. Her tone is a little clipped, and she sees Glimmer notice it.
"Seriously, what's up?" The queen asks again. There's a shadow of worry on her face, furrowing her brow. Instantly guilt twists Adora's stomach. Glimmer has enough on her plate with organizing cleanup efforts in Bright Moon and beyond. She doesn't need to be worrying about Adora. And there's nothing to worry about, anyway. Right? The war is over. Everything is fine now. There isn't anything wrong, so Adora should just be able to keep it together. Shouldn't she?
Glimmer stops in her tracks and grabs Adora's shoulder, and the sudden motion just builds up more of the staticky feeling that has been climbing in her throat. Adora wrenches away from her without even really meaning to. "You're acting strange, Adora. If something is bothering you then we should talk about it."
"Can you just leave me alone?" Adora is as surprised to hear herself snap at Glimmer as Glimmer looks. Immediately guilt rises up in her chest in a wave once more and she reaches for Glimmer's hand. "Glimmer, I'm so sorry. I just–"
"It's okay," Glimmer assures her patiently, which just makes Adora feel even worse. Shouldn't Glimmer be angry with her? Adora's losing her temper like she's still a teenager. She's an adult and should have better control by now. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pried."
"No, no you're okay! I'm the one who messed up!" Adora is surprised to realize she's holding back tears. Why is she struggling not to cry in this moment? Nothing is even happening, right? "I shouldn't have–"
"Adora…" Glimmer squeezes her hand. "It's okay. Really. If you really don't want to talk about it we don't have to. Just…remember I'm here. You can tell me whatever's bothering you, when you're ready. You know that, right?"
"Right," Adora replies. But how can she? How can she explain to Glimmer what's going on with her when she doesn't even understand it herself? None of it makes any sense. The war is over. So why does she keep feeling like this? There's no reason she should still be feeling like this, or acting like this. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I don't know what got into me."
"We're all under a lot of pressure right now," Glimmer reminds her. "It's okay. I've said much worse when I was stressed."
Adora doesn't want to think about that right now. She doesn't want to remember what Glimmer said to her in this same hallway during the war. She doesn't even let herself entertain the memory.
"It doesn't make it okay that I lost my temper at you," Adora argues.
"Forget it. Don't worry. I understand. Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale."
"I'm just tired. There's a lot to do." It's a lame excuse, and she's sure Glimmer sees right through it. Luckily, she doesn't bring it up. For better or for worse, Glimmer respects her boundaries around talking about it this time. She lets it linger in the air between them, and Adora tries desperately to act as normal as she can the rest of the way to the dining room.
***
Adora isn't sure why she agrees to take a trip to the Fright Zone, especially when she's so worn down and exhausted and the frequency of her strange episodes is increasing exponentially. Maybe it's to punish herself for her weakness, in some sick way she knows isn't healthy. But more likely it's to prove–to herself if no one else–that she's strong enough to do it. That this time, unlike the last time she ventured into those twisted green buildings that (as Catra said) are no one's home, she's strong enough.
Maybe it's sheer stubbornness, or maybe she's really truly lost her mind. But whatever the circumstances behind it, she's here now and she's choking on the smoggy, perpetually polluted air just as much as she's choking on the memories. She thought it would be easier this time, with the war being over. But it isn't. She's seized with the same unease as she was the last time she came here and it builds the further she moves further into the forsaken territory.
In the meeting this morning, when she agreed to lead the party to the Fright Zone to bring food and supplies to those currently working on rebuilding the damage and turning it into something habitable, she saw Glimmer's face twist. But mercifully, Glimmer didn't point out what a bad idea that was in front of the entire Princess Alliance.
And maybe it isn't a bad idea. Maybe Glimmer doesn't know what she's talking about. Maybe even Adora herself doesn't know what she's talking about. Maybe she's being dramatic and worrying about nothing. It's happened before, right?
"Alright, we need to get these supplies to the central complex," she hears herself say, though she sounds distant and far away even to herself. She's collected, she's a leader, she's got the weight of Etheria on her shoulders and she won't crumble under it.
"Adora, are you okay?" Bow asks her. She wonders what she could have done to betray the fact that she isn't doing well (never mind the fact that she's always been bad at hiding her feelings, that she's a terrible liar, that she wears her heart on her sleeve even if she doesn't want to, that even when she struggles to understand or communicate her feelings she's never struggled with showing them even when she tries to keep them under wraps).
Adora knows it's bad, but she ignores the question. She can't have this conversation again, not now. Not after Mermista and Glimmer. Not when she isn't even sure if she deserves to have people worrying about her in the first place. She's too tired, and she isn't sure if she can struggle clumsily through answering questions about her current mental state without spilling everything about how badly she's been doing.
She doesn't want anyone to see. She doesn't want anyone to know. She wants to hide her weakness. 'Remain out of sight', just like when she was sick in the Horde. Because clearly she's sick, in some way. It may be coming from her brain instead of her body, but she's sick. Maybe she's been hit on the head one too many times like Catra always said would happen. Suddenly she finds herself missing Catra, wishing she were here even if that would be one more person to see through her thin and badly constructed wall of 'I'm fine' and 'I'm just tired'. But when she thinks too much about what she wants, or how she feels, (or anything really) shards of that hot panic start pulling at her unbelievably quickly and she pulls herself out of the chaos of her brain and back into the Fright Zone. Honestly she isn't sure which is worse.
"Adora…" Mermista falls into step with her as the group leaves behind the heavy haze of the outdoors for the slightly less polluted corridors of the complex. The endless hum of the ventilation system keeping the worst of the air contamination from taking over the interiors drones on and on.
"Yeah?" Adora tries to play it cool.
"About the other day…"
"What about it?" Adora walks a little faster, but Mermista matches her stride.
"Are you sure you're good? Because you seem off today too."
"I'm tired," Adora replies quickly. "I haven't been getting much sleep."
"Is this like that time during the war?" Mermista asks her. "You know, when you like, passed out in the woods?"
"Sort of," Adora replies. She tries not to panic at the way she feels cornered when she's asked questions about her feelings. "But I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Can we drop it? Please?" Adora manages not to get flustered this time. She holds it together and there's a little shred of pride that lights up just briefly in her chest that she managed not to fall apart. It's gone as quickly as it came and once more she's just tired.
"Yeah, sure. But Adora…"
Adora can't stand it. She can't take any more concern, can't handle one more well-meaning gesture of worry. Her friends have better things to worry about than whatever is going on with her. Quickly she starts speed walking away from Mermista.
"It was nice talking to you, but I just remembered I have to go do something!" She babbles it quickly and takes off around the corner. Those carts of supplies aren't going to deliver themselves to the area of the central complex the current repair team of mostly former Horde soldiers performing their community service are using as their hub. It's up to Adora to lead her friends there, but she can't do that right now. She can't do anything. Her heart is already starting to pound as she runs.
Around her, the familiar green walls feel like they're closing in. Whispers of the past reach out to her, the last time she and Catra spent in these halls as friends, the time she came back to save Bow and Glimmer and nearly lost her memories, the time in the portal when reality threatened to tear itself apart and take her with it. And the last time she was here, when she fought Scorpia and struggled with keeping She-ra without losing her under the pressure.
The way Scorpia's magic flickered through her that day in the same way it had once done through Catra when it belonged to Shadow Weaver stands out so sharply in her mind even now. She tries to outrun it, tries to outrun all of it, but it follows her down the endless corridors.
It's just rotten luck that she finds herself in the Black Garnet chamber as though her traitorous feet are punishing her by bringing her back here. Under the completely demolished ceiling the hazy red sky is visible and its light glints off the Garnet, still pulsing and glowing with Scorpia's power.
If Adora were smart, she would turn and run. Apparently, she thinks, she must not be. Because she stays. She stays and she approaches the Garnet even as her hands shake, even as her heart pounds and her breathing grows more and more ragged. Wrapping her arms around herself does nothing, but she does it anyway against the shivers that rock her body despite the warmth of the air.
Her brain latches onto that day here as children, the one the Crystal Castle showed she and Catra. She remembers Catra's barely perceptible whimpers of pain, and she remembers the flashes of agony in her own body when Scorpia used the same magic against Adora herself. More memories pour in, because the electric shocks of Scorpia's magic is the same feeling as when Catra lured her into the electric trap in the process of her desperate attempt to make up for letting the people of Elberon down. It's like it's still happening; she swears she can still feel the flickers of pain, the helplessness. But it's nothing compared to what Catra must have felt all those times, those many days Shadow Weaver used her magic against her.
Especially that day. Adora is still locked into the memory. Catra unable to struggle, Adora helpless to stop Shadow Weaver. Even after she put herself between the two of them, Adora knew she was powerless. She was helpless. She always was. She was always too weak to protect her ('to protect anyone' her insidious brain tells her even as it feels like it might crack apart). She's barely conscious of the by now familiar bright glow of her body as her panic starts to spike higher and higher.
"If you do anything to jeopardize her future I will dispose of you myself" Shadow Weaver's voice rings in her head and for just a moment she isn't sure whether she's thinking the words or actually hearing them all over again. Of course she isn't hearing them. Right? But it's so vivid. It's too vivid.
The world around her is spinning. Time and space seem to fall away and she's locked in the past. She can't escape it. For all she knows she's a little girl, or a teenager, she's still trapped under Shadow Weaver's thumb and she can't escape she'll never escape. The room is filling with shadows the drone of Shadow Weaver's voice is in her head and in her ears she's everywhere and nowhere and Adora is drowning, she's choking on the darkness she's being pulled into it down, down down.
Adora stumbles back from the Garnet and she wants to turn and run but she can't. Her legs fail her. Particles of floating magic shed off her body like pollen off a flower and fill the room, mingling with the choking shadows.
As hard as her heart has pounded during all the moments of inexplicable panic, this time it's even harder. She must be having a heart attack. She must be dying. That's the only explanation. Try as she might to slow her breathing it turns to shallow pants and before she knows it she's gasping for air. Her torso is nothing but tightness, aching and burning that goes so far beyond physical that she doesn't even know what's happening to her. It's eating her alive, it's taking over every inch of her she's falling she's melting she collapses to her knees and she feels herself start to uncontrollably transform into She-ra but it's wrong, it's all wrong it isn't how it normally is.
The metal of her crown flickers onto her head and then off and then on again, sensations crackling through her body in a way that is almost painful but it isn't quite pain it's something else but it's intense it's like nothing she's ever felt. Stuck somewhere halfway between Adora and She-ra she falls fully to the floor as she starts to scream. She fumbles for her sword but it isn't there her hand grasps at nothing. There's nothing there there's no one there she helplessly swings her arm around trying to fight nonexistent enemies with her nonexistent sword as she screams and screams and her screams break into sobs.
"Adora!" It's Bow's voice, but she barely registers his familiar face hovering over her even as he pulls her off the floor and into his arms. "What's going on? What's happening to you?"
"Bow!" Adora chokes out his name but she stumbles over her words when she tries to explain, to say anything else. Because she can't explain. She doesn't know what's happening, can barely breathe or even comprehend the room around her. "I…I'm sorry." She isn't sure why she's apologizing. It's just the first thing that comes out.
"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you Adora it's gonna be okay." Bow sounds like he's trying not to panic, but Adora is too swept up in whatever is happening to her to even be able to register a sense of guilt over making him worry. She's still caught somewhere in the middle of her transformation and parts of her flicker back and forth until she lets her head collapse against Bow's chest as everything disappears.
***
There isn't a sense of black, or weightlessness or anything like that. When Adora wakes up everything floods back all at once, and it's like she was never blacked out at all. As soon as she's able to move her body again she sits up with a gasp.
"What happened?" She demands instantly, panic threatening to rise as she worries about what trouble she might have caused for everyone. "How long have I been unconscious?"
It takes her a moment to realize where she is; Mystacor. She recognizes the purple oval bed and the arched ceiling. Bow Glimmer and Catra are sitting on the edges of the bed surrounding her, the other princesses hanging back near the bed. Not crowding her, but still close. At her question, the group exchanges looks.
"Adora!" Swift Wind gallops over to the bed, nudging her with his muzzle and huffing several times in clear distress. "You're back!"
"Back? I was never gone. What are you talking about?"
Bow and Glimmer exchange a glance.
"What?" She asks, even more concerned.
"Adora…you weren't unconscious," Bow replies.
"Huh?" Adora doesn't know what he could possibly mean, because she is pretty sure she wasn't conscious.
"You were…She-ra," Glimmer finishes for her.
"What?" Adora remembers being caught halfway between her own form and She-ra form. "I started to transform, but I couldn't."
"You were talking to me, and then you stopped," Bow explains. "After that, you turned into She-ra and you wouldn't let anyone near you. It took us a while to convince you to come with us."
"We figured bringing you here was the best option because it seemed like a magic problem," Frosta chimes in from behind Glimmer. "Are you okay?"
"I think so…" Adora looks down at her hands and finds them not glowing anymore. That's a good sign. She breathes a sigh of relief. "I don't remember being She-ra. Like that time I was infected by Entrapta's disc." She has a horrible thought, and a hand flies to her chest. "Did I hurt anyone?"
Before Glimmer can even answer Adora realizes she does remember, it's just a little hazy. She remembers transforming and she remembers being afraid and confused because of how disoriented she was. She wasn't all there, but Bow is right. She was definitely not unconscious.
"You didn't hurt anyone," Glimmer assures her. "I'd say it was definitely more like the time at Thaymor. You just…looked at us when we talked to you, like you didn't recognize us at first. But when we told you we wanted to help, you came with us to Mystacor."
Adora remembers that too. She remembers being so out of sorts, so scared and out of her element like it was her first time transforming again. She remembers the faces of her friends being blurry, hard to distinguish. Being She-ra made the intensity of her panic less difficult to deal with but it did somehow make it harder to see the big picture, or even to function normally when her form was so wild and in fight or flight mode. It was like she was less herself and more purely just magic, just like that day in Thaymor. It was raw, out of control. Running on pure instinct. She hasn't felt like that since she mastered She-ra's magic. Does this mean she's losing control again?
"That must have been pretty scary for you guys. I'm sorry." Adora wraps her arms around herself and realizes she's trembling.
"Don't be sorry." It's the first time Catra has spoken since Adora snapped out of it. "You're the one it was probably scary for. Are you okay?"
There's that question again, and Adora nods because yes is the only thing she knows to say. She doesn't know how to explain all the ways she definitely isn't okay, or how to even begin to verbalize what has been going on with her, much less what happened today.
"Are you sure?" Catra asks. Adora doesn't know what to say. Of course she isn't okay.
She thinks back on the blurry, fuzzy time she was in She-ra form and she realizes with horror that she definitely pulled her sword on her friends. She pulled her sword, and she swung it at them, and Perfuma had to use her vines to restrain her until they were able to get through to her.
"Why does it matter if I'm okay or not?" She asks, more angrily than she realizes until it's already coming out of her mouth. "I tried to attack you guys! You had to restrain me so I didn't hurt anyone! You're all acting like something bad happened to me when you're the ones I put in danger! I–"
"Adora." It's Mermista's voice. "I knew something was up with you the other day in Erelandia. Because of the way you were acting." True to her word, she doesn't tell the others what actually happened. "But I didn't know what to do about it. I know you're not okay. We all do. You're having a hard time right now and it's like, okay to not be okay and stuff. So maybe stop pretending to be so tough?"
"Huh?" Adora feels cornered and if she weren't so tired she would probably get up and run away right now. "No, I was just tired, I…"
"That's what you told me, the other day when I asked about it." Glimmer places a hand on hers. "I knew it wasn't true, but I didn't want to push it. I should have."
"And me." Bow's eyes wobble with tears, though he remains mostly composed. "I knew something was wrong, but you didn't want to talk about it."
"And me," Perfuma chimes in gently.
"And me," Swift Wind agrees.
"We all knew something was up," Catra concludes. "And we should have bugged you about it. We should have pushed until you talked about it."
"It wasn't your responsibility to make me talk about it." Adora holds up her hands defensively. "You tried, but I didn't. How is this any of your fault?"
"It isn't," Perfuma moves a little closer to the bed. "This is no one's fault. Not ours, and not yours Adora. Feelings are difficult. It's hard to be vulnerable. But the fact that you're admitting you didn't talk about something means you're admitting there's something to talk about, so that's a big step."
"I…" Adora didn't realize until now that she's been unintentionally backing herself into a trap. "Well what good would talking about it do anyway? There's something wrong with my magic! You guys said so yourself. That's why you brought me here."
"Adora…" Glimmer says it in a tone that makes it very clear she knows someone has to say it, and that she knows Adora won't want to hear it, so she braces herself. "She-ra's magic is tied to your emotions. Don't you remember when you learned to heal?"
Adora doesn't want to think about that, because it involves Shadow Weaver. But she does remember. The warning that her magic would become destructive if she wasn't careful. Is this what that meant?
"I do, but…"
"If your emotions are causing you enough pain that your magic is affected it must be pretty bad. For it to be affecting She-ra…" Bow trails off, and he meets her eyes. "I'm sorry. I had no idea how badly you were hurting, Adora. I don't think any of us did."
Pain? Hurting? Is she really in pain? Adora places a hand to her chest. She feels fine physically, albeit a little tired. But emotional pain? She's never been very in tune with her emotions. She's never been able to afford to be. First she was in the Horde, then she was fighting a war for the fate of Etheria and finally the entire universe. Her own feelings have never been enough of a priority for her to understand them well, enough so that even realizing she'd fallen in love with Catra at some point had been a genuine surprise to her at the time.
"I…guess I didn't either?" She blinks a few times, trying to get used to all of this. She still feels strange and a little guilty to have everyone so concerned about her, but it isn't necessarily a bad feeling, either. "Is that what's going on? Am I in pain?"
"What's been happening?" Glimmer scoots a little closer to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. The contact almost makes her cry. "No more keeping all this inside. Tell us everything."
"I've been having these…weird episodes. I don't know exactly why." It feels better than she expects to let it out. "I've been having nightmares, but they're worse than any I've ever had. And when I'm awake…" she doesn't quite know how to even explain it. "Sometimes, something will happen, or even nothing will happen, and it'll make me panic. Sometimes it's even for no reason. I lose my breath, and my heart starts pounding really hard and it's like I can't think. It happened today, before you guys found me. But it was even worse than usual. I think I was having a heart attack." Heart attacks, she understands. She learned about them in the rudimentary medical classes in the Horde.
There's a brief silence. "Adora, I don't think this is a magic problem at all. I think you've been having panic attacks." Bow lets her down gently, but she still hates hearing it. It's hard to undo years of conditioning that's made her see any displays of weakness, whether physical or emotional, as a moral failing. "I think this is happening because you're traumatized."
"What? No." Adora shakes her head. She's heard about trauma, but that's something that happens to other people. Not to her. She's used to the kind of pressure she's under. It's the only way she knows how to function. How can she possibly be traumatized? "If I was traumatized this would have been happening during the war, when bad stuff was actually happening. Everything is fine now and it's just started happening. So it must be something else. Besides, when it happens I start glowing. So it's probably something to do with She-ra."
"I think…this is happening because the war is over." Perfuma moves over to the other three sitting on the edge of the bed and reaches out to brush a hand across her hair. It's such a tender gesture that Adora finds herself holding back tears again. "Now that there's no external threat, your mind feels safe enough to process the trauma. If She-ra's powers are tied to your emotions, they're probably reacting to you not doing well."
This makes sense, but Adora hates that it makes sense. "But…I can't just accept this," she argues. "There's still so much to do. What do I do now? Am I supposed to just...accept that I'm…broken and I'm just like this now?" It's a terrifying thought. This is just as debilitating as any physical injury she's ever had.
"Now that you've started processing this, I think it'll be easier to heal. Do you want my help? I can give you some tips on how to work through your emotions, how to balance them." Perfuma is smiling at her, but Adora finds herself still resistant.
"But…I'm supposed to do things for myself. I'm supposed to be a leader. I…"
"I think the first step should be figuring out why you feel that way. Or who made you feel that way." Perfuma says it so gently Adora can't even feel attacked.
"But you have your own problems," Adora argues. She can feel herself being frustrating but she can't help it. "It isn't fair to expect you to help me with mine."
"Everyone has their own problems," Perfuma agrees. "That doesn't mean we can't take care of each other. Being able to help others sort through their emotions is something I've been blessed to be able to do. It's something I've been doing even more since the end of the war, now that we all have a chance to heal because there's peace. If it was a burden on me I wouldn't have offered."
This airtight logic stumps Adora and she holds back tears once more. She doesn't even know what to say.
"We're here for you, Adora," Glimmer speaks so she doesn't have to.
"If you think we're gonna let you deal with this on your own you must be even dumber than I thought." Catra's hand reaches to clasp hers.
"I can make you another space suit," it's the first thing Entrapta has said. "The skin tight nature of it might be good for regulating the nervous system and calming some of the anxiety." She's showing she cares in her own way and it's enough to make a tear escape from Adora's eye.
Scorpia is standing beside Entrapta and she fixes her with a gentle look. "Gosh, you know I don't always know what to say in times like this, but you don't have to deal with everything by yourself. You can talk to all of us."
"To think that a member of my crew has been weathering a storm alone…" Sea Hawk places a hand dramatically to his chest.
"No matter what happens we'll get through this together." Bow squeezes her shoulder. Swift Wind bumps her with his nose, a silent gesture of camaraderie, and Melog places a paw onto the side of the bed beside her and meows in what she's sure is a gesture of comfort. It's all too much, and she doesn't think she deserves all of this worry and goodwill (she knows she doesn't deserve it) and Adora doesn't realize she's crying until the tears start falling onto her hands.
Immediately she tries to stop her tears. She doesn't want to worry everyone even more. But this time she can't. And maybe, she doesn't want to. At first it just starts out as normal tears but it quickly escalates into choking sobs because she just can't hold them back anymore. Once the floodgates open there's no going back and she doubles over as she cries but arms catch her and before she knows it she's being held. She's not sure who it is at first but it quickly becomes clear it isn't just one person. It's Bow and Glimmer and Catra all at the same time and before long Swift Wind is resting his chin on top of her head, draping his wings around the four of them.
Adora is grateful for the modicum of privacy the wings surrounding she and her friends offers. She's had vulnerable moments in front of the other princesses before but it's never been like this. She doesn't even remember the last time she cried like this. In the past whenever something drove her to cry like this she only had moments before she needed to compose herself and move on to the next thing she needed to do. Now there's nothing to do, no great heroic quest to distract her. Now, the war is over and there's nothing left to do but cry.
Adora didn't even realize a body was capable of holding this many tears until today. She's always thought she was fairly emotionally open because she's not good at hiding her feelings. It turns out, however, she's been holding onto so much and holding back so much that crying releases more and more. Tension she didn't even realize she's been holding unlocks in her body as she lets herself sob.
"I'm sorry…" she manages to gasp between sobs, though she isn't completely sure what she's sorry for.
"Don't be sorry," Catra tells her firmly. "Don't you think you've had to keep it together for long enough?"
It's the final push she needs and she just comes unglued in a way she didn't even think was possible, not with the way she's always held back signs of weakness whenever she could, a hard habit to break after all those years in the Horde. The sobs that break out of her mouth are almost unhinged, feral. They don't even sound like herself. It feels like she shatters completely into something totally new, and maybe that's okay.
Normally when she's feeling this vulnerable she would wrap her arms around herself for comfort, but this time she doesn't need to. This time the people she loves most in the world are doing it for her.
***
At first, it starts the same as always. Things are normal. Things are fine. But then they aren't. But before things can get too horrifying, twisting into a shapeless and featureless horror show that's a mockery of her life and loved ones, everything stops.
The terror stops as soon as it began, and then there's nothing. It's just darkness, an endless expanse of it but before she can even have a chance to be afraid blinding light pierces it. The same figure she encountered in her dreams before, in the nights after breaking the sword. Tall, glowing, ethereal, a bright silhouette that blots out the darkness as she approaches her and the stars return to a previously featureless sky.
"She-ra?" Adora knows She-ra is her, and she is She-ra. But despite this, she finds herself in absolute awe of the towering eight foot tall presence, the raw power, the undeniable inhuman beauty of such a being. Being in her presence is overwhelming, but not necessarily in a negative way. Is this what it's like for others when they're around her when she's transformed?
She-ra reaches her, towers over her. She doesn't speak. Doesn't even make an attempt to. She stares down at Adora, into her eyes. Her face is expressionless and she just looks at her. No judgment, just silent understanding before she pulls Adora against her and hugs her.
The sense of weightlessness is immediate, as is the sense of relief. She feels light as air, bright as moonlight. She-ra is warm and she's solid and her bright glow feels safer than anything Adora has ever experienced. This would be the perfect place to cry, in these strong and supportive arms surrounded by this sense of complete acceptance and peace. But she doesn't need to cry. Not right now. She just lets herself be held and she hugs She-ra back. She wants to thank her, wants to ramble on about how much being She-ra has changed her life and how grateful she is and how much she owes to her, but she can't speak.
Artwork by dreadraws28
Maybe she doesn't need to. Maybe She-ra knows. She feels like she knows. She is silent as a stone and just as strong and she holds her as tightly as she knows she needs to be held. And in the fleeting moments before she pulls back Adora finally finds her voice. She almost says goodbye, but it isn't goodbye because she knows that She-ra will still be inside her when she wakes up, and there's a strange beauty in the understanding that something that brings her so much comfort is essentially…herself.
"I think…I'll be okay. Thank you. For protecting me today. I know that's what you were doing. Thank you."
She wakes up tangled up in limbs. Bow and Glimmer and Catra are wrapped around her in the bed, holding her and lying on her and draped over her, all snoring in various levels of noisiness. Melog is curled protectively over her feet, sound asleep. Most of the other princesses have taken their leave, but Swift Wind is still lying on the floor beside the bed, head up and watching her with Mermista leaning up against him snoring softly.
"Feeling better?" He asks, his voice quiet for once. Adora nods. She's sweaty and thirsty and she wants to sit up, but she doesn't.
"I think so. Thanks, Swifty."
"Don't mention it. Go back to sleep. I'll stand watch." He nuzzles her and then rests his chin on the side of the bed. She's overcome with love, then. Love for him and for the people in the bed with her and the princesses. She moves her hand to stroke his mane and she listens to Bow's snores, Glimmer's deep relaxed breathing, Catra and Melog's purrs. They're all asleep, and she's aware of how the lighting has changed in the room; the last time she was awake it was morning, and now she can catch a glimpse of stars outside the window by the bed.
Adora has a brief thought that she probably shouldn't be sleeping so much. There are a million things to do, a million things to worry about, the crushing weight of a thousand responsibilities that weigh her down. But for once she ignores it. The thought is loud, but Bow's snores are louder. Her friends are soft and warm around her and on her and Swift Wind's mane is silken and coarse between her fingers. For once, she lets these sensations drown out the ever present drone of her stressful thoughts, and she falls asleep safely wrapped in them like a cocoon.