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Catra
It was Winter Solstice, and today was the day that Catra would fight for her life.
She woke up earlier than usual as the sun shone through the bedroom window, slowly creeping across her face. She quickly got dressed and shouldered her equipment bag with her armor and her wizard’s supplies before heading to the mountains to prepare herself for the ordeal to come.
The ritual preparation was familiar to her. Bathing in a pool fed by a mountain brook so ice-cold it made her breathless. Lighting the candles and saying the words of power over her staff. The ripple of light that raced up her arms and across her skin until it covered her body, before sinking into her without a trace. Scrambling to put her clothes back on now before she got hypothermia.
Each step was one she’d done many times before. Too many times, really. She remembered Shadow Weaver’s disappointment after the first year like a physical blow (And there had been some of those as well). No two have ever failed to complete the rite. I detected some…reluctance in both of you. Perhaps a Compulsion is required, to ensure that you will honor your vow past when I will be able to…directly oversee.
Catra remembered the searing agony as the spell took hold of her. It had left both her and Adora sobbing and gasping for air on the stone floor of the tower, components for the spell they had been practicing scattered everywhere. She’d barely cracked her eyes open when she heard Shadow Weaver’s footsteps approaching. Their wizardry master had just looked at the two of them crumpled on the floor, and said simply, You will be training separately from now on. Your belongings have been moved to separate quarters.
Catra shook her head. She needed to focus now, not dwell on the past. She pulled her armor out of the equipment bag and started strapping it on. It was supple red leather, enchanted to protect against far more damage than it physically should. She and Adora had been given the armor in their sixteenth year, prior to the first duel.
She glanced up at the sun and swore quietly. It was already close to the time. Catra swiftly packed up all her belongings, and started the trek down the mountain to the Circle.
When she arrived at the Circle, nestled between two craggy peaks (and far away from any town) Adora was already there, speaking softly with the two companions who had accompanied her to the duel the last three years. She looked up as Catra approached alone, and gave a simple nod of acknowledgement before turning back to her friends.
Catra dropped her bag onto the ground just outside the circle and twirled her staff with practiced ease, never taking her eyes from Adora. Now they would wait.
Adora
It was Winter Solstice, and today was the day that Adora would fight for her life.
She’d been up since dawn, slipping out of bed as the horizon began lightening. She shouldered her backpack and started the long hike up to the second of the peaks that made the valley in which she would face Catra.
She conducted the prepatory rituals methodically, and then sat down cross-legged facing the rising sun and fell into a meditative trance as she watched it crest over the mountains. This was not, strictly speaking, part of the required steps, but Shadow Weaver had never said anything about doing extra things. And it helped quiet Adora’s mind, a necessary step to ensure that she was at her best in the Circle. She would need to be.
A few hours later, Adora rose and packed up the candles, and used the staff to haul herself to her feet. Sitting down for so long always made her knees a little stiff. She started putting on her leather armor, which was the palest gold, cinching the straps so they were secure, but not too tight. She felt the familiar hum of power in her staff as she began to make her way back down the mountain.
Bow and Glimmer were waiting for her when she arrived at the Circle.
“Are you ready?” Glimmer asked seriously, taking her by the shoulder.
Adora took a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Bow gave her an encouraging smile, although Adora could see the worry in his eyes. “I know how hard you’ve been training. You’ve got this.”
“Maybe…but she’s been training just as hard.” Adora’s stomach clenched with nerves. This would be the fifth year they’d clashed in this circle.
Adora suddenly felt compelled to look behind her. Catra strode purposefully toward the circle from the direction of her mountain, staff in hand, cloak billowing behind her like a slash of blood against the grey of the rocky outcroppings. Adora tilted her chin at Catra to let her know she wasn’t intimidated, and Catra did the same.
Adora turned back to Bow and Glimmer. “Well,” she said wryly, “See you on the flipside. Hopefully.”
She faced Catra from across the Circle. The Circle itself was maybe fifty yards wide, indicated by an intricate, faintly glowing design emanating from the earth. It was not an empty space: There were shrubs and boulders, uneven ground and a small stream cutting its way through stone and spilling over a sheer cliff at one edge of the circle. Adora didn’t understand why Shadow Weaver couldn’t have shifted the Circle just a few yards away from the cliff, there was plenty of space. Maybe it was to provide more interesting ways to die.
Not that anyone but Bow and Glimmer would see this fight. Shadow Weaver was no longer their master. Only a couple years ago, she had been consumed by a spell-gone-wrong, reduced to a wraith-like creature that haunted the tower they’d grown up in.
But Shadow Weaver’s Compulsion spell was just as powerful today as the day she’d cast it. Adora had felt it tugging at her attention for days, as the Solstice drew closer. It made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.
She and Catra watched each other from opposite sides of the circle, as the seconds ticked closer to noon. Catra unclasped her cloak and it slid off her shoulders and crumpled at her feet. Then, suddenly, the faint glow of the Circle’s outline brightened into a blue that was visible even at high noon, and the invisible barrier that had prevented Adora and Catra from entering, vanished.
Adora stepped forward into the circle at the same time as Catra. Instantly, the sounds of the outside world became muffled.
By the rules of the duel, they would remain in the Circle until the oath they’d sworn had been fulfilled. Adora remembered when they had sworn that oath.
I vow to devote myself with my mind, body, and all my skills, to the defeat of my enemy. Only their or my own death will divorce me from my goal. Shadow Weaver had recited, and Catra and Adora, age six, had dutifully repeated after her with their cut and bleeding palms flat on the stone obelisk. They hadn’t known what it would mean. How could they? They’d been selected from thousands of orphans to train under the most formidable Wizard in the lands, which many grown-ups had said was the highest honor.
Growing up, they’d played all kinds of games about their oath. They were the noble knights, who would defend their kingdom from evil! They were skilled assassins, employed by the Queen to eliminate a conspiracy against her! They were wild children, battling against bears and wolves and every scary thing they could think of, with nothing but their bare hands and their wits. But always, they were together. They’d had no idea what Shadow Weaver had in store for them ten years later.
Catra brought her staff in front of her, and Adora mirrored her with her own staff. The ritual she’d performed earlier that morning has taken effect: Her magic sang. By the force of Shadow Weaver’s Compulsion, her magic would mold her efforts into achieving one goal during the duel. It was thirsty for one thing.
Catra’s blood.
“I hope you’ve been working hard,” Catra called out, “because last time, your footwork was pathetically sloppy!”
Adora started circling around the perimeter of the Circle, always facing Catra. She called back, “Don’t worry, I’ve tightened it up! If you haven’t improved your concentration you’re going to regret it.”
Catra grinned savagely. “I have,” she snarled, and launched herself toward Adora. She slashed her staff through the air, releasing a knife-sharp blade of air that Adora avoided by tucking and rolling away from Catra.
Adora gracefully stood up and in one fluid motion, whirled the tip of her staff over her head and brought it down just to the left of Catra. A bolt of energy hit a boulder, exploding it and forcing Catra to jump backward toward the stream, hissing.
“Looks like someone needs to work on her aim!” Catra sniped as she leaped up onto a rocky outcropping.
“My aim is good enough,” Adora said. Catra had gone right where she intended. She jerked her staff upward and the rock Catra was standing on rapidly started to rise into the air. Catra flailed to regain her balance, but then stepped off the stone platform and fell twenty feet, catching herself with a Levitate just before hitting the ground.
As Adora continued trading blows with Catra and the intensity increased, she fell into a rhythm. Dodge. Cast. Try to move to a more advantageous position. Stay away from the cliff. She dove behind a rock as a ball of lightning zipped past her. The heat of it singed her arm hairs.
Wrack your brain for a spell that might surprise Catra, all while continuing to defend yourself, counter her offense with your own. Adora quickly dissipated Catra’s Wall of Force spell with her own, causing the excess energy to explode away from them until it hit the invisible walls of the Circle.
She felt the Compulsion ingrained in her magic, egging her on, almost forcing her arms to move her staff. Shadow Weaver had wanted them to leave no holds barred, and so they didn’t.
Adora brought up a wall of water out of the creek to protect her from Catra’s firebolt, but it just wasn’t enough water. She was hit square in the chest with the (greatly reduced) firebolt, and stumbled backward. Fortunately her armor had held up and she wasn’t burned, but it had still been a powerful hit. A cloud of vaporized water hung in the air in Catra’s direction, and she couldn’t see her opponent.
She took a breath, and felt a sharp pain on her left side. Probably a couple broken ribs. She winced, but straightened up. When Catra didn’t appear, Adora stalked into the cloud. The first hit of the duel had gone to Catra, and Adora was kicking herself for allowing it to land.
Out of the corner of her eye, she detected motion. She quickly drew the water from the cloud together and shot a cloud of ice shards in that direction in a second.
Satisfyingly, she heard at least one of them find their mark. There was an “oomph” and the sound of pebbles skittering across the ground. When she looked, the cloud was gone. Catra crouched a dozen feet away, a clean slice across her cheek starting to bleed. Catra’s tongue darted out and caught a drop of blood as it slid down her cheek.
“Careful Adora, or this will be over before it’s started,” Catra panted, intensity in her eyes, and then she attacked.
Half an hour later, Adora felt the first wave of fatigue starting to set in. Her reaction times weren’t as fast. Fewer of her shots were even close to Catra. She’d collected numerous bruises and smaller cuts and after the last spell from Catra, she now had a shiny burn along the outside of her bicep.
Catra hadn’t fared much better. Adora didn’t know exactly how she was feeling, but it couldn’t be great. In addition to the ice dagger cuts, Adora had finally landed a hit with Wall of Force, which she knew from experience made you feel like you’d been dragged behind a rampaging bull for a couple minutes. Catra was favoring her right leg.
They circled each other, both breathing hard. This was usually the point at which Catra decided to give physical combat a try—
As if she can read her mind, Catra took a running leap toward her and vaulted up, up, over her head, forcing Adora to raise her staff above her head to protect herself. While still in midair, Catra brought her staff down and Adora raised hers just in time.
Their staffs connected with a cracking force that jarred Adora’s arms. She pushed and threw Catra back. Adora adjusted her grip on her staff, mentally switching from spell-slinging to quarterstaff fighting.
She launched herself toward Catra, bringing one end of her staff around to hit Catra in the side, but Catra blocked her lightning quick. “Hey, Adora,” Catra purred, “is this when we get up close and personal?”
Adora gritted her teeth, and smiled savagely, “You started it. Bring it on,” she hissed.
Catra’s grin could have cut her. “My pleasure.” Catra began to rain a flurry of blows down on her, each strike bone-jarring, forcing Adora to retreat.
Adora’s wrists started to ache under the relentless attack. Her foot bumped against something, and without looking she jumped up onto a rock behind her. “Ha! You slipped up, Catra,” Adora gasped as she continued fending off Catra’s blows, “I—have the advantage now!”
She waited for the perfect opening, and then jumped forward, staff colliding squarely with Catra’s so forcefully that Catra was knocked on her back. Adora landed lightly on her feet and lightning fast, dropped to her knees straddling Catra’s waist, still pressing against her staff. She panted, trying to recover her breath from Catra’s onslaught.
It was the perfect advantage. She had Catra right where she wanted her, and it would be easy to disarm her right then and finish the job. She knew she was physically stronger than Catra, and weighed more. Catra wasn’t going anywhere unless Adora let her.
Catra fluttered open her eyes and looked up at her. Adora could feel her arm muscles start to shake from the effort of keeping Catra pinned.
“Well?” Catra rasped and cocked one eyebrow, “You got me. What are you going to do with me?”
That voice in her head that wasn’t Adora, whispered in her ear, Finish this. Strike! It will finally be over! The Compulsion wanted her to do it. She could steal Catra’s breath, literally. She could press her staff down to Catra’s throat. She could—
Adora gritted her teeth. “No!” she ground out, and pushed with her legs into a somersault over Catra’s head and stood back up, crouched and ready.
Catra turned onto her stomach and heaved herself up onto all fours, gasping for air. “That was close,” she gasped, almost too quietly for Adora to hear.
Adora leaned on her staff for support as Catra slowly got to her feet. “I told you—not to let me have the—height advantage!”
“You already—have—a height advantage,” Catra says, still breathing hard, “I can’t remember—everything you say!”
Adora wearily raised her staff parallel to the ground with two hands. She preferred to fight with magic only, but once they started physically fighting, it tended to continue to the end. A few feet away from her, Catra did the same. Adora’s gaze caught on a bead of sweat rolling down Catra’s neck. It made its lazy way down to the juncture with her shoulder, and then down to her collarbone before slipping out of sight between her breasts. Adora swallowed audibly. She couldn’t let that distract her.
Catra blinked and shook her head for a second, and then she attacked once again, this time with a blinding flash of light. Adora hadn’t been expecting that.
Adora was left almost sightless, bright spots dancing in her vision. She strained her ears for any sign of Catra. A barely audible scuff behind her, and she instinctively flipped around and raised her staff with two hands, blocking a bone-shuddering blow from behind her.
Still mostly blind, Adora swept her staff along the ground where she thought Catra was, but this time she wasn’t so lucky. As her vision gradually came back, she scanned her surroundings. No Catra. Well, she would wait, as long as she could.
After almost five minutes, she couldn’t resist any longer. She prowled towards one of the outcroppings big enough to be able to hide Catra. “I hope five minutes was long enough, because I’m coming for you,” she called.
She rounded the rock to find Catra sitting huddled up on the other side, staff nowhere to be found. Uh-oh. This was bad, very bad. A defenseless Catra wouldn’t last—Adora’s eyes narrowed. Catra just looked at her, not moving. Something wasn’t right—
A punch of force hit her in the back, forcing her to her hands and knees. Her broken ribs protested. Her whole body protested, as Adora gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of her.
Footsteps, making no effort to be quiet. Catra’s feet came into view in front of her. Catra used the end of her staff to tilt Adora’s head back until she was looking up into Catra’s blue-green eyes. Adora fought to keep her eyes focused, not to let them slide shut.
Catra cackled, “You should have seen your face, Adora! I totally got you on that one, admit it!”
Adora cracked the faintest hit of a smile and allowed her eyelids to droop, just for a moment. “You got me,” she said, “that was—a new one.”
“I’ve been working on it.” The staff under her chin jerked upward, just a hair. If Catra wanted to, she could probably break Adora’s neck. And her staff undoubtedly wanted to. A second later Catra leapt up on top of the outcropping, a good eight feet off the ground.
Adora dropped her head for a minute. She had time. She had time. Few more minutes. She didn’t have any time left. Unwillingly, she got to her feet once again.
Hours later, the sun had fallen almost to the horizon. And Adora was completely out of energy. She stumbled around the side of a boulder and leaned heavily against a tree trunk. Their most recent encounter paled in comparison to the first of the duel. Adora had cast an unsteady Tornado, which had pushed Catra back only a dozen feet. Catra had retaliated with an Entangle that Adora had freed herself from in under a minute. It was almost over, she could feel it.
Adora tried to swallow, but her throat was so parched that she couldn’t manage it. She needed water. She limped out from her cover and toward the stream that ran through the Circle. Everything was still and quiet except the babbling brook. Adora collapsed to her knees next to it and filled her cupped hands with water, drinking it down eagerly. She splashed water on her face, washing away some of the sweat and blood and grime that had built up over the last few hours. She didn’t need to look up when she heard footsteps.
“Hey Catra,” she said lowly as Catra dropped to her knees beside her. “Long time no see.”
Catra groaned, and dunked her whole face into the stream. When she came up, dripping, Adora let out a huff of laughter. “Efficiency, huh?”
“I was thirsty. And filthy. It’s faster.” Catra said, scrubbing her hands across her face in an attempt to get cleaner.
Adora didn’t move from her position kneeling next to Catra, hands braced on the lip of the stream. Neither did Catra.
Minutes passed. Adora’s hands didn’t start shaking. She didn’t hear that insidious voice whispering in her hear. The sun slipped below the mountains.
Beside her, Catra flopped onto her back. Adora didn’t see why she shouldn’t do the same.
It was over.
Catra
Catra lay on her back and stared at the sky as it turned from yellow to orange to blue. She spotted a pinprick of light far above her. “A star,” she mumbles.
Adora let her face fall toward Catra. “You’re a star.” She mumbled back nonsensically.
Catra sat up slowly, carefully. Her body hurt. She scooted closer to Adora and leaned onto one elbow facing her, letting one hand fall onto Adora’s stomach. “It’s over,” she whispered.
Adora cracked one eye open and smiled at Catra. She brought her hand to her stomach and laced their fingers together. “You’re amazing.”
They’d just finished a five hour long marathon duel, in which they’d been magically compelled to do their best to kill each other. Catra’s heart seized. What had she done to deserve Adora?
Adora let go of her hand and pushed up onto her elbows. “Stop thinking, Catra,” she murmured, “I’m fine. Nothing a few healing spells won’t fix. And I’ll get my talented girlfriend to do them.” She reached up and took Catra by the back of the neck and pulls her closer, until their foreheads were touching. Catra could feel her breath, hot on her lips.
A rush of anger moved through Catra. “How dare she do this to us,” she whispered, tears flooding her eyes.
“I hate it too,” Adora said, “but she’s not here. We just have to do our best. We’re a team, remember?”
Catra let the tension drain out of her. “I know. I hate fighting you.”
“Mmm we do it almost every day, when we train.” Adora licked her lips.
“That’s sparring, it’s different. I’m not actually trying to kill you then.” Catra murmured.
Adora sighed, “I know. I know. I just want—”
Catra knew. She wanted that too. She tilted her head and finally, finally, pressed her lips to Adora’s. Adora’s kiss was open-mouthed, and hot, and needy. Catra responded in kind, tried to communicate with her kiss just how much she loved Adora, how sorry she was for having to hurt her. How she wished things were different, how she wanted to figure this curse out. How sometimes it kept her up at night, scenarios where she wasn’t careful enough, hurt Adora permanently, or even killed her. How the only thing that kept her grounded was waking up and finding Adora curled up against her, warm and alive and well. How sometimes she wished she could just climb into Adora’s body and stay there, so they’d never have to be apart.
Adora adjusted to get a better angle, and had to pull back, gasping. “Ahh—I think my ribs are broken,” she said.
Catra couldn’t help snorting, “Your ribs? What about my ribs? What about this cut you gave me? What about my internal bleeding, Adora?”
Adora peppered kisses on the cut on Catra’s cheek. “There, all better.” She said with a smile.
“Kissing it better isn’t a thing,” Catra chuckled (it did feel better though), then winced at the pain of contracting her abs.
“Mmm you seemed to like it,” Adora says impishly.
“Well, I sure do have a lot of injuries,” Catra purred, “all over my body.”
“I can help with that,” Adora smiled, “but as much as I love the Circle, can we go home now?”
Catra groaned and pushed herself to her feet. She offered Adora her hand, and Adora took it. Catra hauled her to her feet, and couldn’t help sneaking one last kiss.
“Hey! C’mon, we can make out at home!”
Catra took a step, and winced. She thought her ankle might be sprained, or possibly broken. Instantly, Adora was at her side, pulling Catra’s arm over her shoulder and wrapping her arm around Catra’s waist. “We go together, remember?” She muttered, “You’ll hurt yourself more.”
They hobbled slowly toward the place Adora had entered the Circle. When they came to the place that a sigil was still faintly glowing blue, Adora looked apologetic. “Are you ok for a second?” She asked, grimacing.
“Yeah—“ Catra said, tenderly putting weight on her leg. It ached.
Adora pulled a small throwing knife out of a sheath strapped to her thigh and removed her leather bracer. She pushed up her sleeve to her elbow, and winced as she made a short cut on her forearm.
Blood welled up instantly, and she carefully held it over the sigil. Scarlet drops of blood fell on the sigil. As each one hit the stone, it flashed bright for a moment before disappearing in a wisp of smoke. A few seconds later, the glow faded, and sound came rushing back.
Suddenly, Catra could hear the crashing of the waterfall hitting the river deep in the canyon next to the Circle. Birdsong filled the air, and her sensitive nose was assaulted with all the scents she’d been cut off from since she stepped into the circle. Pine needles, and decomposing leaves, and the scent of deer and rabbits, and Adora’s friends. Glimmer and Bow.
Adora once again pulled Catra’s arm over her shoulders, and together they limped out of the circle.
The thing was, Shadow Weaver hadn’t taken into account their determination not to kill each other. And a spell that was tied to the sun, died with it as well. As the sun set, the Compulsion faded. Slowly at first, and then faster, until it set and they were free. As long as they made it until sunset, they avoided the full weight of the curse.
Bow was the first one to notice them. “Adora!” he exclaimed, and jumped to his feet.
Glimmer looked up, then did a double take. “Are you guys okay?” She asked, taking in the sight of them.
Catra knew she looked like a mess, and she could see that Adora did. She mumbled, “I would kill for a hot bath right now.”
Glimmer made a face. “Well, we’ve got to get home before you can do that.”
“Luckily,” Bow said, “we came on horses!”
“Horses?” Adora asked, a hopeful note in her voice through the exhaustion.
Later, once they were back to their house in the village below the mountains, Catra did, indeed kill (a spider) for a bath. She filled the large tub with as hot of water as it would go, and when she slid in she sighed in contentment.
Adora poked her head in. “Is it ready? Ooh! Bubbles!” She hurried to strip and hop in the other end of the tub facing Catra. As she sank in, she groaned. “Oh my god this is amazing.”
Catra let her eyes slide closed. “I put those oils you like in the water. Smells nice.” She murmured. She could probably drift off right here and now.
Once they were both clean and dry, the two of them trudged into the kitchen. Adora threw some wood into the stove, put a cast iron pan on heat up, and started hunting around for eggs. “Can you chop this stuff?” She asked, putting a cutting board with an onion, some mushrooms, and greens in front of Catra.
“Sure,” Catra groaned, and started dicing. Slowly.
They were both exhausted enough that despite Catra’s lethargic pace of vegetable chopping, the pan was hot and eggs whisked right as she finished. Adora made really good omelets.
They sat curled up together on the rug in front of the fire eating. Catra’s ankle throbbed, and all the aches and pains she’d accumulated came back to her mind. “Here,” she said, shuffling to face Adora, “let me heal you.”
Adora obediently laid on her back, arms at her sides. Catra straddled her, sitting on her thighs to get the best angle. She rubbed her hands together and summoned the small amount of magic she had left, before placing her hands over Adora’s broken ribs. She could feel the area getting hotter as she concentrated on knitting bones back together.
Shadow Weaver hadn’t taught them how to heal. Everything they’d learned from her had been how to hurt, how to harm. How to suppress pain so you could keep going when injured. Nothing about growth, about life. That was all what they had figured out themselves, through trial and error and every once in a while, through a wizard passing through the village.
Adora’s eyes opened, and Catra lifted her hands away from her. “Any other major injuries? I don’t think I have enough juice to heal all your bruises right now.”
Adora silently offered her arm, which had a long shiny burn. Catra felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry about that.”
Adora shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
Catra placed her palms on Adora’s bicep, and focused on channeling everything she had left into the burn. Before her eyes, the red faded and the skin smoothed out, until it was barely noticeable at all. Catra playfully squeezed Adora’s arm. “Do you work out or something?”
Adora stuck her tongue out. “Sure do!” she said, sitting up. “Now your turn.”
Catra lay down and closed her eyes. She felt Adora tenderly put her hands on Catra’s ankle, and then a warm, yellow feeling suffused it, driving the pain to the farthest corners of Catra’s mind. She hadn’t realized how much tension she was holding because of it until Adora removed her hands. Catra peered down at her foot and flexed and pointed it, then wiggled it around. “Feels perfect. Thanks.”
Adora crawled up closer to her head. “You said you had internal bleeding?”
Catra grimaced. “Think so. All those Thunder Waves. That’s usually what happens.”
Adora bit her lip. “Ok. We’ll start with this.” She leaned down and kissed Catra softly.
And really, she didn’t need to get healed, right? Because if she could kiss Adora forever, she’d be good. Catra licked into Adora’s mouth, which prompted Adora to inhale sharply, then slide her hands to Catra’s waist and kiss her more urgently than before. Which Catra was extremely okay with, except that it reminded her that—
She broke away, breathing a little hard. “How is this gonna heal me,” she asked breathlessly.
“Be patient,” Adora murmured against her mouth, and pulled her into another kiss. Catra felt her hands at her waist, and then a warm feeling started to suffuse her abdomen, right where it had been aching the most. It was nice, kissing Adora and being healed by her at the same time. It made her feel…held.
Adora slumped against her when she was finished, all her magical reserves used up.
“So that was your idea?” Catra teased as she carded her fingers through Adora’s hair, “multitasking?”
“I thought it would be romantic,” Adora mumbled into her chest.
Catra felt a surge of affection for Adora. For this woman who didn’t know what the future held for them, but who never lost hope that they’d find a solution to this curse, together. The girl she had been, who had refused to let Shadow Weaver’s spell and mandates and intimidation define her, who had snuck into Catra’s room the first night they were forced to sleep in separate rooms, and ask if there was space for her too. Who had been scared out of her mind to tell Catra how she felt about her, because did they really need their lives to get even more dangerous? And who had done it anyway. Catra didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky.
But the fire was dying down now, and really, the floor wasn’t all that comfortable. Catra carefully moved Adora to the floor, and stood up. “C’mon. Bedtime for us duel-ers.”
“Don’t wanna,” Adora grumbled, but got to her feet and held out her hand. Catra took it, and they went upstairs to their bedroom hand in hand.
As Catra was drifting off to sleep, Adora nestled in her arms, her mind caught on something. The phrasing of their oath. If they took advantage of certain ambiguities…they could maybe use a loophole to get out of the yearly duel.
Catra was on the verge of waking Adora up and telling her. She got up onto her elbow and went to shake Adora awake, but then she paused. Adora looked so peaceful in sleep, and Catra didn’t have the heart to do it. Instead, she just buried her face into Adora’s hair and took a deep breath. She smelled like home.
Catra would tell her in the morning, and maybe, maybe this year was the last time they’d have to fight.