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Growing up in the Horde was anything but easy. But, it wasn’t always so horrible. Sure- there were days of endless training, and shadows, and fighting. But there were also nights of sleepovers, and hiding places, and giggles.
The Horde was rough.
But Catra and Adora were soft.
Adora could remember clearly when she was so small that she had to jump a little to reach her bottom bunk. She remembered being scared of the dark, and how glowing eyes comforted her every time.
“You know,” A small whisper, “I think you did really good during training today.”
”Tell that to Shadow Weaver,” A scoff.
“It doesn’t matter what she says,” Adora shook her head, even though she knew it did matter. Every breath and curse Shadow Weaver spoke would forever be under Adora and Catra’s skin. “We have eachother, Catra, and that’s all that really matters.”
”Promise?” Catra looked so small- she was small.
“I promise.”
Adora would never forget those nights. She could never forget the feeling of Catra sleeping at her feet. It was their world, everyone else could find their own place in it.
Shadow Weaver had warned Adora once about what attachment does to people. Ok, maybe it was more than once. She wondered what it would take to make someone so dark. Did Shadow Weaver have her own Catra at some point? Could either of them be just as dark and evil at any point?
Adora didn’t think she was capable of even the “nicest” things Shadow Weaver was capable of. But, wasn’t that why she was here- why they all were? One day, for so many years, Adora knew she would be force captain. Would she hurt children like Shadow Weaver hurt her and Catra?
“Shadow Weaver?” Adora had just turned 13. She was unaware of her birthday, but she knew that something had changed. The training got harder, and boys looked at her in a way she could not describe.
“What is it, Adora?” Shadow Weaver never seemed interested in their conversations, Adora always wondered why she was forced in the Black Garnet chamber in the first place.
Adora doesn’t remember most of her meetings with Shadow Weaver.
“Do you hate Catra?” Adora frowned at the urgency in her own voice. Her own emotions, her true cares.
“Oh, Adora,” Adora hated the sound of Shadow Weavers voice. She hated how it made her stomach drop and made the hair on her arms stand. “We’ve talked about your attachment to that beast.”
”I don’t understand, you never have this conversation with anyone else. You treat everyone else the same, it’s just Catra-“
“Adora,” Shadow Weaver put her hand up. Adora knew she couldn’t push, couldn’t step out of line. Maybe she was a coward, or maybe she was just a kid. She couldn’t quite remember.
Adora was 17 when she first saw the sword. She would never forget the feeling when she first touched it, she would never describe it to anyone if they ever asked.
As much as she wanted to know what was going on, to follow these strangers to know about this strange soul. Her heart was screaming at her. What was she doing? She needed to get back to Catra. She couldn’t help but think about all the possibilities this opened. Her and Catra against the world.
Adora could never, never forget the look on Catra’s face as she left. As Catra became nothing but the smoke and dust that settled. Adora had left her, or did Catra leave her? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She wanted to scream, and cry, and claw at the ground. The look of betrayal printed on the back of her eyelids.
That night, those nights, Adora didn’t sleep. She felt like she was small again, to short to reach the bed. But this time there were no glow in the dark eyes to comfort her.
When Adora first heard Catra’s voice on the battlefield, she thought she was dreaming. Sure, being transformed into She-ra usually helped with the feeling of complete dissociation. She remembered all of Catra’s moves as if it was a dance. One moment they are enemies at war, the next they are friends sparing together. She wasn’t sure if fighting Catra was better or worse. They knew each other down to every breath and heartbeat. How could you fight someone who was once your second half.
Adora hardly told Glimmer and Bow stories of her childhood in the Horde. They already found it disturbing enough that she knew Catra, so she thought it was safer to spare them the details. She would also never want to admit was she remembered, and what she didn’t. It hurt to hear the stories of a child Glimmer and Bow, knowing that she couldn’t share the stories of her own.
When she did share anything, she was met with empathic sighs and looks. She was told that what Shadow Weaver did wasn’t right. That 7 year olds shouldn’t be training. That you can’t hide when you get sick or hurt.
“Adora?” It was a sleepover. They have had a lot of those in the few months that she had been living in Brightmoon. “Were you friends with Catra?”
She looked at Glimmer and Bow, surprised. Were the two good at reading her or was it really that obvious? Where her emotions really that easy to read all these years later.
“Yes,” She hesitated, watching their faces for a reaction. “Catra and I were friends.”
They both looked shocked as if there wasn’t a reason that they had asked the question in the first place. “What was she like? I mean was she always this evil?”
“No!” Adora cringed at her to fast answer, “No, she was all I had in the Horde.”
”Then why?”
”Why what?”
“Why are the two of you fighting?”
Adora would never remember or understand.
How could you fight? Why would you fight?
It felt like she moved on autopilot, going through the motions of each day. Had it always been like this? She couldn’t quite remember. Sure, there had always been this sinking hole in her chest, but there used to be someone there to make it better.
Suddenly, Adora remembered the meetings with Shadow Weaver. It felt like a switch up. She had just been told that Shadow Weaver was bad, Shadow Weaver was abusive. Now, her own friends let Shadow Weaver roam the halls like it was nothing. She tried to keep her distance, and the memories, far away. But it’s hard to do with the one who caused so much pain constantly breathing down your neck.
It felt like a brick wall on her shoulders, a brick wall that Adora had built brick by brick. The repressed memories of her childhood, how she missed Catra, how much She-ra hurt, the exhaustion she hid each day, Shadow Weaver’s looming voice, Glimmer’s shrill voice arguing.
“I don’t understand Adora,” This was probably her and Glimmer’s sixth argument of the day.
“Glimmer-“
“No, Adora,” Glimmer was always cutting her off, never listening. It reminded Adora of Shadow Weaver, but a lot of Glimmer’s actions did recently. “I don’t understand why you are acting like this! Shadow Weaver has been nothing but helpful, but you are just sitting here like a baby and complaining. When is the last time you’ve done something to help the rebellion?”
Adora bit her tongue. She was trained to not talk back. Her voice didn’t matter. “Shadow Weaver is manipulating you! Why can’t you see it?”
“The only thing I see is your jealousy! You’re just jealous that Shadow Weaver doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore!”
Adora was forever greatful of that, but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. “Why do we need her? The rebellion was doing just fine before she showed up!”
“The rebellion was doing even better before you showed up!” Glimmer snapped her mouth closed, suddenly aware of her words, and maybe their actions.
Adora bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. Don’t cry. Your emotions don’t matter. Your best isn’t good enough. You need to do better. Train harder. Be stronger. Be better.
It felt like she was fighting for her scores, but it was more than that now. Now, she was fighting a war- and she was supposed to be the hero.
Adora would never forget the sound of the sword shattering. She could never forget the empty feeling. Or that She-ra took everything that Adora had with her.
Bow came to her with possible the worst news but she had to be strong. Her world had just fallen apart again.
She never thought it was possible to be at such a low. The anxious feeling had dropped and burnt a hole in her gut that could never be mended. Adora never liked being She-ra, but for some reason she felt the loneliness in her bones. Maybe it was all just a crutch. Hasn’t she been lonely since that day when she was 17?
She didn’t mind it all, honestly. Adora was almost glad to be freed of She-ra. She was reminded of how her body functioned. The stretch and rip of muscles when she pushed to hard. The ache of injuries that couldn’t heal themselves.
Bow had made a comment about how she was pushing herself to hard. But wasn’t it her not being good enough that brought them here?
Adora felt bad that she was almost happy that Glimmer was gone. Bow finally got to feel a hint of what Adora’s felt these long three years.
Adora didn’t want to remember space, and the horrible feeling of being on Mara’s ship. It felt like forever, in an endless void of time. Bow was worried and Entrapta was just happy to be in space.
Adora had almost forgotten the sound of Catra’s voice. But there she was, rescuing Glimmer. It all felt like a dream. Catra. Catra. But it was a short lived moment with Glimmer there and Catra gone.
She was genuinely surprised when Bow and Glimmer agreed to go back for Catra.
Adora tries to forget Prime’s ship. But she can never scrub green eyes from her vision. Catra was back. It was like nothing else in the world mattered She could care less about She-ra, or the war, or Brightmoon. For the first time in three years, she had hugged her best friend. Her Catra.
Adora remembers what dying felt like. She felt everything drain from her body, almost like when she broke the sword. The failsafe pulsed with every beat of her heart, every wave of pain. She had never felt like this, so weak- chills and nausea taking control of her body. But she couldn’t help but smile at Catra.
Adora was ready to die. Ready to save Etheria and sacrifice herself. And Catra was even there to help her through the process.
But Adora didn’t die. One moment there was a beautiful dream filled with everything she could wish for, and the next moment it came true.
Adora will always remember the feeling of Catra’s lips against hers.
Adora never expected life after the war to feel this way.
Brightmoon celebrated victory, the rebellion flourished, and Etheria finally stood united. Yet, even with peace settling into the world, Adora still woke some nights with the weight of the past pressing down on her chest. Memories of the Horde, of endless battles, and of being She-Ra haunted her dreams.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she was warm. Tonight she felt the softness she had all those years ago
There, in the moonlight spilling across their shared room, Catra lay curled against her, breathing softly in her sleep. Adora traced the lines of Catra’s face—the sharp angles she once feared would turn hard and distant forever. But here they were. Together.
Adora still couldn’t believe it sometimes. How something so broken could be pieced back together. How the world she thought she’d lost was now resting in her arms.
“You’re staring again,” Catra mumbled without opening her eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
Adora laughed softly. “Sorry.”
Catra cracked one eye open, green meeting blue. “You’re thinking too much.”
Adora giggled, her voice quiet. “I’m always thinking to much. I guess- I just never believed that we would get here.”
“Neither did I.” Catra sat up slightly, her hand finding Adora’s. Her voice softened. “But we did. We fought through everything, and we made it.”
Adora squeezed Catra’s hand. “Promise we’ll never let go again?”
Catra leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Adora’s forehead. “Promise.”
The weight of the past would never fully disappear. The scars they carried couldn’t be erased. But together, they found healing.
Together, they built a new future—one where love and light replaced the shadows they once lived in.
And, for the first time in years, Adora wasn’t afraid of what tomorrow would bring.
Because tomorrow would be theirs. Together.
Forever.