Archive of Our Own

One

This might be harder than Adora planned. It’s one thing to lie to her wife. It’s another thing to do it while in bed with her.

Catra was supposed to review the combatants for the tournament earlier today, but she’d been overscheduled again. So, instead of this happening mid-meal, or with a room between them, Catra’s stubborn inability to use a daily planner has condemned Adora to attempt a falsehood in unrehearsed conditions: back against the headboard, legs outstretched, and wife resting on her chest.

Adora cards her hands through Catra’s hair and along her head, before rhythmically scratching blunt and callused fingertips behind her ears. Catra’s mumbling names under her breath, occasionally making full voiced interjections – “Good that she’ll be here,” “Oh, his husband might come too, I should follow up,” “Octavia breaks my treaty and then comes to my tournament? That conceited shithead!” – but under Adora’s patient ministrations her outbursts become muted and infrequent. Adora keeps working diligently, hoping that the calm will -  

“What - Who put down She-Ra?!”

“Well, uh…” Adora allows herself a moment of panic before continuing, “that doesn’t sound like a real person.”

(Granted, it’s not a totally new alias, but it was years ago and she barely ever used it around Catra. She had to have forgotten it.)

“No shit, Adora. Someone must have entered under the name She-Ra.”

“Huh. Sounds like you have one of those anonymous knights Glimmer mentioned.”

“Clearly. Apparently you aren’t the only one worried about royals getting easy fights.”

“Yes. Other people. Not me.”

Catra’s mouth opens, starting to ask a question Adora knows she can’t answer, so she quickly follows up. “Because there’s this one. This totally separate person. Who is not me.”

“…yes, Adora. This person. Who is not you. Because you will be visiting Frosta.”

“Exactly!”

Nailed it.

“Well. Whoever it is – entering my first tournament as Queen under a fake name? This She-Ra better put on quite a show.”

Put on a show? Catra’s worried that Adora – She-Ra – won’t be watchable?

“I’m sure this She-Ra will win.” Especially now that Catra has the audacity to doubt her.

“Good.” Catra flicks her ear downward, tapping Adora’s hand until she remembers to resume scratching. Her wife silently finishes reading the rest of the entrants, then sets the list aside and moves down the bed, dragging her tail over Adora’s hip as she does.

Adora obliges her request and stretches down the bed beside her, before sliding one arm under Catra’s shoulder and curling her close. Adora’s hand finds Catra’s scalp again and resumes her motions, prompting a soft purr. After a few minutes of quiet, her wife speaks.

“Adora. You said Bow and Glimmer are coming to the tournament?”

“And Bow’s dads! They’re all very excited.” Glimmer especially. The moment Adora mentioned her plan, she immediately offered to help. Adora didn’t realize that “Princess of Bright Moon” entitled her foster sister to fake patents and spare sets of armor, but Glimmer said she had access to both.

“Well. I’ll be sure to reach out to them. And you’re sure you’ll be out of town?”

“Frosta was so insistent.” No lie there, she really was. Once Adora explained she needed a decent reason to say she was out of town, the requests for a visit were nearly nonstop.

“It happens. We all have to do outreach. And… you mentioned you sold Swift Wind?”

“Last week. Someone else bought him. She – they – were wearing a hood.”

“Ah. Yes. Very difficult to tell who’s who under a hood.”

Catra hums with unspoken thought for a minute, then turns her head into Adora’s chest. The purr grows louder, and Adora’s getting lulled to sleep. She’s content and happy, on the path to victory. Catra doesn’t realize the surprise coming. Her plan is perfect.

“Wait, you knew from the very start?!”

“You promised. When you asked, Adora – ”

“I’m not mad! I’m just curious.” Adora replies, dropping back to a conversational tone as Glimmer and Bow glance across the table.

“You promised that you. Would not. Get mad.”

“I’m really not! It was… sweet.”

“And now. Now you seem kinda mad.”

“Catra! I’m not mad. Really. I’m just – how did you know?”

“Adora. I have known you since we were six – ”

“So?”

“So, when you pick the name She-Ra – ”

“How did you remember it?!” Adora asks. Glimmer and Bow are outright staring, now.

“It’s not like it was a secret, Adora. Whenever we played any game – ”

“And you – what – you – ”

“– you were a warrior named She-Ra. From age eight, right on through – ”

“Didn’t you get it embroidered on a fucking pillow at one point?” Glimmer asks, half-empty wineglass sloshing dangerously.

“…oh my, Sparkles. Thank you for that fact. I will cherish – ”

“Setting the Pillow of Protection aside –”

“You even named it. That’s adorable.”

Two

Adora’s always enjoyed tournaments, regardless of size. Who cares about a crowd, compared to the satisfying sensation of competition? The feeling of working in total unity with Swift Wind? The jolt of perfectly deflecting a lance, splintering her own, launching the other rider? What more could she want?

(Good fights. In front of her wonderful wife. Who remains unaware long enough for Adora to win the entire tournament. The look of total surprise on her face.)

This tournament, though – well, she won’t deny that a crowd adds to the drama, and this one promises to be dramatic. Catra, eager to show off her country’s hospitality, has gone all out on the setup. One side of the field is entirely occupied by a row of private stalls for the competitors, while the other side hosts a massive set of bleachers that runs the entire length. Catra’s royal platform is set in the middle, along with a seat for Sea Hawk to commentate from.

Adora can see banners  – professionally printed on wide sheets of butcher paper – and buntings hanging from the exterior of the stands as she approaches, as well as posters papered all over the main entrance. Even at this distance, the royal sigil of the Fright Zone is visible on every one. Her wife has clearly taken Adora’s lessons on proper signage to heart – the crest is emphasized, reminding everyone that whatever is on these signs is backed by the weight of the throne.

It’s genuinely difficult to miss someone in full plate mounted on a horse, and she’s trained the guards fairly well, so she’s not surprised when her approach draws their attention. Bow, who ended up as her squire after Glimmer promptly declared herself occupied by “Catra duty,” notices their gazes and pointedly knocks on her greaves. “She-Ra! We should use the back entrance. Less chance of being spotted.”

She tightens her legs and leans into Swift Wind. He obliges and starts curving away, stepping lightly. Adora casts one look back towards the main entrance, fully turning her head to make up for her lack of peripheral vision in the helm. Catra has climbed up on a beam over the main entrance and is holding up some sort of sign. It looks like she’s hastily scribbled something with a thick ink pen on cardboard, but the letters are too spiky for Adora to read at this distance. (Block letters, Catra. They’ve talked about this.) She’s gesticulating wildly to the crowds trying to enter, snarling something that Adora cannot make out over the clatter of her armor.

The meaning of “Catra duty” becomes clear once Glimmer catches sight of her. She stamps out a sharp “Exactly what the fuck does she think she’s doing?!” before stalking off towards the gate, cape trailing behind. Adora’s unsure how Catra’s setting off Glimmer this time, but she’s a little too focused on her upcoming jousts to worry about it.

After all, it’s not like Catra and Glimmer are incapable of getting along. They did for most of the wedding. It’s more that Catra and Glimmer can sometimes form a cycle of riling each other up, until eventually Adora feels compelled to separate them. For instance, the critical difference between “most of the wedding” and “all of the wedding” forced Adora to draft the infamous (though thanks to Bow, fortunately unneeded) Post-Wedding Reconciliation Plan. As long as today doesn’t make her pull out that document again, Catra and Glimmer can probably take care of themselves.

"You there! Fair knight!" a guard calls.

Adora looks at him, grimacing. Several failed attempts with Bow and Glimmer have made it clear that Adora cannot change her voice, even as She-Ra. Luckily, before she can respond, Catra hops off the beam and taps his shoulder.

He turns – Adora winces, no guard of hers should take their eyes off a target – and looks down at her. He’s clearly taken aback by his queen conversing with him, but she launches into a conversation anyways and starts enthusiastically showing him one of her daggers. Despite the guard’s misstep, it’s a heartwarming scene – Adora can’t help but be glad that Catra’s taking an interest in her trainees.

Catra’s visit seems to draw the attention of all the guards, and Adora isn’t hailed by anyone else as she rides towards the back entrance. Once her and Bow are out of public view, she leans down to whisper to Bow, “I think that went pretty well! Nobody recognized me.”

“Uh-huh! Yup! Nobody.” Bow looks a little stressed. Poor guy. She’s going to be fine. She wins jousts all the time.  

“Hey, Bow. Don’t worry! I’ve got this. All you have to do is hand me lances and keep people from realizing who I am!”

“Yes. That is definitely all I have to do.”

“Of course!”

They enter the field, Adora’s heart high and full. She’s already made it past all the guards. Nothing’s going to stop her from pulling off her perfect plan.

“ – at least you’re the only one who figured… it… out. Oh.”

“So. About that.”

“Catra. How many people knew about this?”

“You promised you wouldn’t – ”

“Catra. How many people – ”

“At least some of the guards,” Glimmer offers, before draining the rest of her glass.

“ – knew about this.”

“Thanks, Sparkles. And, uh, technically - I told all of the guards.”

Three

There’s a decent number of combatants in this tournament, and Adora has to sit through several bouts before her first. Luckily, Catra’s set up a fairly straightforward set of rules – single elimination, each of the bouts is the best of three, if both lances break and neither is knocked off, it doesn’t count – so the bouts go quick. She-Ra’s first bout is scheduled against Juliet, a rider from Bright Moon. Adora trained with her growing up, but hasn’t lost a bout against her in half a decade. She’s not exactly worried about winning.

That’s not stopping her from focusing on it, of course. She finds her stall, all the way down on one end. Once she’s tied up Swift Wind, she starts into her warmups, alternating between watching the other riders and working through specific stretches with Bow. As the bouts continue, Adora moves from her exercises to testing the balance and weight of the lance. Bow’s holding up and moving various targets, but she drives through each of them.

After one strike, she looks past Bow to notice Glimmer approaching Juliet across the field. It’s not clear what conversation she’s trying to have, but Glimmer’s gesticulating broadly even as she leaves the stands. Before she can see more, Bow notices her inattention and grabs her shoulder.

“Hey, focus, She-Ra.”

“What? I was just looking!”

“You’ve still got to warm up! Keep your head in the right place.”

“My head is in the right place! I’m trying to scope out the competition!”

“The more you look around, the harder it is to stay mysterious!”

“Shit. Good catch.” Adora’s voice drops. She repeats to herself, “I’m She-Ra. The mystery is the point.”

Adora refocuses and finishes up her exercises just as Juliet starts her warmup ride, circling the field. She’s moving well and Adora mentally updates her estimation – perhaps she will need to be slightly more cautious, ride with a more careful approach.

She mounts Swift Wind, and Bow passes her the first lance. Catra raises a flag high, the cue to prepare, so she squares up across the field from her opponent. Adora’s field of vision condenses, her breaths flowing low and even, Catra resolving – she can make out her hand, gripping the flag, the finely toned muscles of her arms, shoulder, neck, leading up to her face, her blue and yellow eyes glittering, looking left and right –

The flag drops.

The sound of hoofbeats starts to rise as Swift Wind picks up pace. Adora drops her lance, settling it into the familiar crook of her elbow. Juliet’s approaching, but she thrusts early at Adora, too early by far. Even worse, she keeps her body and head upright, revealing an open target. Adora adapts, easily avoiding any touch, then shatters her lance on Juliet’s exposed breastplate. Pieces of wooden shrapnel plink off her armor as she rides past. They finish their respective rides - Adora’s breath is still light, her armor undented and moving smoothly, but Juliet’s riding a bit slower and Adora can see a slight mark on her side.

Her hearing clears to Sea Hawk’s excited shouts. She sweeps her view over to him, looking to the platform for – actually, Catra appears to have passed the flag off to her local seneschal, and has descended into the crowd to address some of her subjects directly. It’s sweet, the way she’s made an effort to reach out.

Adora heels Swift Wind around, toward Bow and his waiting replacement lance. On the way, Juliet approaches, helm raised. The dent on her side is much more clearly visible now – Adora estimates it’ll impact her ability to drop her shoulder. If she feints high but closes low, Juliet would have a hard time – ohshit Juliet’s saying something.

“ – a great hit, Ado - …ora of the Fright Zone wouldn’t have even been able to land it!”

Does she have to reply? Juliet obviously doesn’t know it’s her (and absolutely doesn’t remember how good she was – Adora was able to hit a target that open at twelve), but will she stay mysterious if she says too much? Is it impolite to stay silent?

She lowers her head and stammers a quick “Thanks, kind rider!” as Juliet nears. She looks up in time to see Juliet’s eyes locked past her in a rictus, face slightly white. Adora must have hit a more sensitive spot than she realized – her former trainer normally doesn’t look that drained until after several bouts. She finishes her ride back to Bow, reining in Swift Wind. He’s standing proudly, a giant grin, thumbs raised.

“Great hit, She-Ra!”

“Thanks! Just have to do it again.”

Bow reaches down to hoist another lance, passing it to Adora. She turns Swift Wind around, giving her a view of Juliet preparing across the field from her. There is a visibly fuming Glimmer standing on her mounting block, landing a finger on her breastplate and shouting.

Adora briefly feels terrible for Juliet – she knows Glimmer’s doing it to keep up appearances, but it’s still a shame that she’s yelling at poor Juliet for giving Bright Moon a bad name here. She’s pretty sure if Juliet had lost in the exact same way, just to a publicly identifiable Adora, Glimmer wouldn’t be giving her nearly as much grief.

The flag raises again, and both she and Juliet arrange themselves on the field. It drops, and Adora feels the strum of Swift Wind underneath her. The earlier dent is affecting Juliet less than Adora would have guessed – she’s riding quick and light, much tighter than her first run. Her strike is properly timed, her form much less open.

Adora’s forced to do her usual wrist flick, relying on pure strength to bat Juliet’s lance wide and successfully haul hers back on target. It’s a difficult move that she wasn’t able to consistently pull off until seven or eight years ago, but it does the trick here. Adora knocks Juliet’s lance aside before cleanly shattering hers against Juliet’s chest. As their hoofbeats fade, the field is rocked by a boisterous call from Sea Hawk, far louder than she’s used to.

“And here we see Adora’s signature move on display you know it really is impressive how well versed this mystery knight, this She-Ra, actually is! Such a surprisingly capable contestant, I don’t think any of us were expecting this.”

What? She looks over to the platform to see Catra and Sea Hawk, her hand on his shoulder. He’s holding a large hand cone – ah, the source of the additional volume – but Adora’s more perturbed by what was coming out of it.

He had the audacity to call that Adora’s signature move? It boggles the mind. Sure, it requires a bit of strength, but she’s been doing it since she was fifteen, it’s not inconceivable for a mystery knight to be capable of it. Sea Hawk’s not giving She-Ra enough credit here. She has half a mind to go and – wait. Sea Hawk seems surprised that She-Ra can do it. Nobody is surprised when Adora does it. Her disguise must be working.

Plus, it rapidly becomes obvious that her wife is already ready to defend her honor. Catra’s hand drops from his shoulder, grabbing the hand cone and ripping it from his grasp. Glimmer steps up next to her, and she passes the cone over – so good to see the two of them getting along – before getting in his face and yelling at him, the words unclear.

It’s perhaps slightly more aggressive than Adora might suggest – sure, it isn’t her signature move, but it still took work to learn, and she can’t help but feel a little proud that even when mysterious random people do it, it’s apparently associated with her – but mostly, she’s filled with joy at the sight of Catra defending her.

Adora returns to her side and dismounts, a wide grin across her face. She didn’t just win that joust – nothing to get too overjoyed about there, it’s not like the outcome was ever in any question, not against Juliet – she also made it through her first bout without Juliet or Sea Hawk realizing who she was. This whole plan is coming together perfectly.

“All of the guards?”

“And the combatants. And Sea Hawk. And – ”

“Why didn’t anybody say any – ”

“Because we told them not to!”

“Because you told them not to?”

“Yes! Because you… You were, y’know – ”

“Catra.” Glimmer puts down her glass. “No offense, but you’re fucking this up. Our – ”

“Kind of offensive there, Sparkles – ”

“- our point is, Adora. We love you. We love you enough to know that you cannot fucking lie.”

“Hey! It’s not that –”

“And so. Because we love you,” Glimmer sweeps out her arms to encompass Bow, currently sheltering behind the wine bottle, and Catra, currently glaring at Glimmer, before continuing, “we decided to fix your plan.”

“– I can’t, I just – Fix?! It was a great – ”

“Yes, fix!” Glimmer fells the mercifully empty wineglass with another gesture. “Your first step was entering as fucking She-Ra!” The glass begins a steady roll across the table, seeking an edge.

“We were eight. Who – ”

“Me, Adora.” Catra meets Adora’s side-eye, then sightlessly pins the escaping glass with a claw.

“You figured it out fucking immediately, didn’t you? You had to, becau – ”

“The instant I read the name.” Catra says as she passes the wineglass to Bow.

“Because I got your letter like two weeks after hers, yeah.”

“ – even remembers – Wait, letter?! What the shit, Catra?” Adora turns fully to Catra. Bow takes advantage of the distraction to pour a dash of wine and push it towards Glimmer.

“You promised you wouldn’t – ”

“Not. Mad. Just surprised.”

“You do sound a little – ”

“I’m not mad, Glimmer.” Adora says, while reaching across the table and taking the glass.

“Look, Adora, you were excited about fighting for real. I wanted to make it happen! I just needed help – ”

“Exactly! You were so fucking excited – ”

“ – because it turns out getting anybody to actually fight the Queen’s wife is insanely hard – ”

“I have been saying that for months,” Adora adds heatedly.

“ – and so Catra made it so nobody would fucking dare throw your bouts – ”

“ – I mean I had to double the payout and promise a royal favor to whoever beat – ”

“You bet against your own wife?!”

“Catra!” Glimmer slams her hand on the table. “Stop fucking helping.”

Four

She-Ra’s bout was early this round, so she takes a few minutes to stretch and keep her muscles warm before searching for Bow. He’s off towards the stands, speaking to George and Lance. Normally this would be this fine – she would never ask Bow to hide this from his dads – but they are a little close to the crowd for her taste. She finally manages to get his attention, after a somewhat embarrassing amount of time spent waving. Bow approaches, dads in tow.

“Hi George! Hi Lance! I’m so happy you could make it!”

“Thanks for having us, She-Ra!” Lance replies, tossing a conspiratorial wink her way.

“Yes, we’re very excited to see you compete! Bow’s told us so much about it. Plus, if you run out of lances, we brought a backup!” George elbows his husband, triggering a round of snickering from both of them.

“Dads. Please. Please.”

“Son, I’m offended! You think this tournament has a better lance than me?”

“Why. Why did Glimmer invite you.”

“Because our daughter-in-law knows this Lance is the life of the party! He makes the rest seem a little… wooden.” Lance grins and sneaks a kiss against George’s cheek, while Bow throws his hands up, turning to fully face Adora.

“So, She-Ra, what can I do for you?”

Adora recovers from her giggles enough to speak. “Heh. Do you still have those snacks?”

“Of course! Let me find them,” Bow digs around his bag and produces her “post round one” snack – a pouch of jerky and nuts with a large “1” written on it, as well as a similarly labeled waterskin.

Adora finds a private spot to raise her helm and snack lightly, while Bow and his dads enter into an animated discussion about the historical origins of jousting. She lets the conversation wash over her – something about an ancient warrior swearing to break three hundred lances – while she quietly considers her next steps.

There’s at least a half a dozen bouts left for She-Ra before she enters the final match. If she plays every joust as tight as she did with Juliet, she has no doubt that she’d win this. That being said, there are other ways to fight. Constantly going for showy strikes, trying to knock her opponents off their mounts, riding to get attention, rather than just win – Adora can do them all. Skill isn’t the problem there. Stamina is. Flashy jousts take energy.

Adora’s tough, strong, and resilient, but she’s not totally indomitable. Too much panache, and she could drive herself into exhaustion. Catra’s put together a large tournament. Several of the combatants present are definitely good enough take advantage of her weary mistakes. They might make her lose. That cannot happen.

However – Catra seemed less than enthused at the idea of an anonymous knight entering her tournament. If she rides in, jousts extraordinarily conservatively, and then unmasks herself as the winner… Adora’s sure Catra would be fine with it, but Adora’s not in this to make Catra be fine. Adora’s selfish. She wants Catra’s eyes on her, she wants Catra to watch her jousts with bated breath, she wants Catra invested. She wants Catra to need to know who She-Ra is.

Adora might need to showboat. A little. Just so Catra’s excited when she wins.

Once the snack pouch is empty, she drops her helm and goes out to watch the next bouts. They’re fairly standard, nothing as tight as the performance she delivered against Juliet. The next round begins, and she’s scheduled second. Sea Hawk announces that She-Ra is on deck, and the crowd responds, noisy anticipation growing.

Suddenly, their formless noise takes on a slightly different pitch. Adora glances over to see Glimmer, in the front of the stands, holding up a large sign - it’s heavy-weight cardstock, sturdy. It is immediately clear that she’s unused to displaying signage by hand. Adora can only see the blank backside of the sign. The audience is obviously attempting to point it out to her.

She looks to the royal platform. Catra’s agitated and trying to hide it, tail swaying back and forth. She abruptly stands and stalks towards Glimmer, impatience seeming to get the better of her. As she closes on the princess, her tail whipping and ears flattened, Catra pulls out a dagger and starts tossing it to herself.

Don’t get her wrong, Adora loves how seriously her wife is taking this tournament. That being said, Catra is about to go speak to Glimmer - hopefully about turning the sign around - while in a truly murderous mood. She’s dealt with Catra when she’s like this, and Adora’s concerned that her methods of correction might be a bit too forceful for Glimmer’s tastes. Or possibly even worse, that Glimmer will be less pliant than Catra might expect. She’s distracted from the coming argument by Bow calling out as he approaches.

“She-Ra! Time to prepare!”

“This early?”

“Let’s go look at your lances!”

“I’ve still got five minutes?”

“Gotta keep those muscles warm! Up on your horse!”

He pokes her in the arm. The force utterly fails to translate through her armor, but Adora gets the message anyways. She mounts up on Swift Wind, riding out for several warmup laps. She glances over to see Catra standing beside Glimmer. Claws are out and hackles are raised. Glimmer, who is apparently completely incapable of understanding body language, is still resolutely holding the sign up backwards. Catra jabs towards it and then throws a broad hand back to the viewing audience.

Oh dear. Her wife and her foster sister appear to be at loggerheads. Sure, this all could have been avoided had they adopted her practice of doublesided signs, but no no, Adora, that’s “weirdly overkill.” She rears Swift Wind up, just to see if it makes Catra glance towards her. No luck. Her wife keeps her back to the field, totally intent on demonstrating some point to a deeply non-receptive audience of exactly one. Fine, then.

She looks towards her opponent instead, Octavia. She’s mounted poorly. Her head is raised. And she’s wearing a set of armor that is far too well-decorated to have seen much practice. Adora’s pulled back to the memory of Catra reviewing the list – if she recalls correctly, Octavia’s the “conceited shithead.”

Adora goes through a quick mental calculation. Octavia’s riding isn’t exactly awe-inspiring. She doesn’t seem to have been in many jousts before. She’s pissed off Adora’s wife.

Well. Maybe Catra will be more focused on She-Ra if she makes a show out of beating Octavia. Adora’s going to have to be a bit patient – there’s no way to pull this off without two boring passes first, and she’ll have to let Octavia shatter at least one lance – but the final pass? Watch Catra try and ignore She-Ra after that.

Adora cycles back towards her end just as the beleaguered seneschal, seeing Catra otherwise occupied, raises the flag. It drops, and Adora’s off. Octavia’s not leading her horse right, she’s already leaning wide. It might be hard to make her even land a hit. She slews Swift Wind – his confusion is evident, this is all wrong – but he trusts her and complies, silently shifting enough for Adora to present a wide open shot to her breastplate. Octavia’s lance strikes, but the angle is poor, it’s sliding, it’s going –

Adora slams her off arm down, trapping the lance in her armpit, and leans until it shatters. A shot of pain flares down her arm and up her neck, but she fights through and manages to splinter her lance just right, denting Octavia’s armor where she needs it. She circles back around towards Bow, gingerly testing her arm and shoulder. She’s still got motion, but it sends a slight protest when she tenses it.

Bow shoots her a questioning look as she approaches, but still passes her the next lance. Adora tries to quickly glance at Catra, but a sharp sting from her off arm jerks her movement short – the hit must be worse than she thought. Either her armor’s dented, or she’s got a splinter in her bicep. She carefully looks to the flag instead.

It’s raised – she returns to the start – it falls – she’s off again. Adora’s last hit dented Octavia’s shoulder, and she can already see her struggling to lower the lance effectively. Swift Wind, who’s clearly had enough of this “trying to get hit” business, sets her on a textbook line. Octavia miserably fails to drop her lance, and Adora shatters her second lance against Octavia’s elbow while totally avoiding her paltry attempt at an opposing strike.  

The crowd’s shouting, but Adora’s beyond understanding words at this point, every part of her focused on this last pass. She must have ridden back to Bow, because there’s a lance in her hand. The flag is raised – the flag drops. Octavia is trying to compensate for the dents and stabilize her lance, so she starts desperately leaning it into her stomach. Good, just where Adora wants it. They close. Adora aims high, slows Swift Wind, then reaches out to bat Octavia’s lance downward. The butt of it catches on her armor, even as the tip of it digs into the dirt. Octavia’s roughly shoved out of her own saddle, all momentum dumped into her grounded weapon.

For a moment, Adora can’t help but be transfixed by Octavia’s predicament – a clumsy figure in too-nice armor, transfixed in the air by her own lance, even as her horse carries on without her. She’s hanging there, a frame painted into Adora’s mind, frozen – until Adora follows up with a vicious strike directly into her sternum. Adora’s lance detonates and Octavia’s in motion once again, launched back towards her origin. She leaves Adora’s sight as Swift Wind carries her further, but the crowd’s shocked silence allows her to clearly hear the impact, armor clattering as Octavia tumbles and rolls.

Fuck with her wife again, asshole.

Adora turns, heedless of her stinging off-arm – Catra is on the railing. Her tail is dead vertical, her eyes giant circles of black, ears pinned high and eager. Adora can almost hear the shriek echoing from her wife’s throat, but it’s drowned out as the crowd abruptly leaps to their feet. They’re stomping, clapping, and chanting.

“SHE-RA! SHE-RA! SHE-RA!”

The chorus continues as she circles around, heading back towards Bow. She passes within arm’s length of Catra. Her gaze is locked on Adora, drinking her in, eyes so wide at the sight of She-Ra that Adora can’t help but feel a small spike of jealousy – but Catra looks down towards her arm and her pupils snap to concerned slits as she rides past. Adora wants to reach out, tell her that it’s just a scratch, that she’ll be totally fine, but Swift Wind’s motion carries her past before she can form the words.

Bow’s… less than pleased.

“Ad – She-Ra! You’re bleeding!”

“What? No, I’m not!”

“Look at your arm!”

Huh. Look at that. So she is.

“It’s not bad! That’s barely any blood!”

“Barely – get off your horse!”

Adora dismounts, and Bow leads her to the back so she can take off her armor without the crowd seeing her face. Her early estimation is proven correct – she did end with a shard of wood in her off arm, but it’s not terribly deep.

Bow turns her arm for a look, face ashen, “Is it – will it hurt more to leave it in – I don’t know if we have the tools to pull it – “

Adora’s in the middle of a competition. The crowd is cheering for her. She just righteously demolished someone her wife hates. She’s not in a mental state to notice trivial and unimportant things like puncture wounds.

So she grabs the shard and pulls it out.

“Or – or you can do that, I guess.”

“Quicker this way. Gauze?”

A quick wrap suffices to staunch it. She can hear the bleachers shaking, the crowd still chanting. She’s winning, Catra’s paying attention, and everyone in the crowd clearly sees her as She-Ra. This plan is going perfectly.

“So, wait.” Adora is the first to recover from Glimmer’s exasperation. “Catra, you figured it out, which we’ll address later.” Catra winces, then motions for the half-full glass. Adora hands it to her before continuing. “And Glimmer, you said the guards were aware. Did everyone in the crowd know, too?”

“Probably? You’re kind of hard to miss,” Bow interjects.

“This! This is why I said fix, Adora. You’ve trained every fucking guard in this keep – ”

“You did rescue Sea Hawk off his own ship – ” Catra adds between sips of wine.

“ – rode Swift Wind like he fucking grew up with you – ”

“ – half the crowd watches us spar every week – ”

“ – because he fucking did – ”

“It’s probably easier to list the people who didn’t know, actually.” Catra says while passing the empty glass back to Bow.

Five

Adora might be a little bit stressed. Maybe. She’s eaten all her snacks. She’s paced back and forth. She’s snapped at Bow for fussing over her armor. And now, she can feel the final bout approaching, the air growing thick and tense.

At Bow’s insistence, she had calmed down for her last few bouts. (Really, she said she would calm down for just one, but Catra was absolutely glued to it anyways. She decided to play it safe for the rest.)

It had probably been a good call, honestly. Her matchups were tougher than she expected. It almost felt like people were targeting her – hazards of being the one mystery entrant, she supposes – but she’s satisfied, fulfilled in the way she only finds from triumphing over a litany of difficult fights. Despite it all, she’s going into her final bout with only a few scratches and dings. Her worst wound is still the self-inflicted gouge in her arm.

That could all change, though. Her last bout – the championship – is against Scorpia of Plumeria, a former minor noble of the Fright Zone. She and Catra are close, and Adora’s met her a few times – sometimes in tournaments, sometimes not. She’s boisterous, positive, and, when on the tournament field, deeply alarming.

She’s not exactly scared to fight Scorpia, but she is… trepidatious. Adora’s pretty sure she’s going to win, but it might be difficult to pull off the impressive finish she has apparently decided is required. After all, Catra needs to be amazed, enthralled, awestruck, not wondering why she decided to marry some bedraggled woman who barely scraped her way to a win.

It certainly doesn’t help that Catra is calling a pause to competition for some reason. She and Glimmer are in the stands, looking ready to fight: Glimmer’s standing on the royal platform, holding onto Sea Hawk’s pilfered hand cone, and Catra’s stalking along the front row of the stands, claws chiseling chips of wood off the railings. Both of them are shooting glares at, well, everyone.

Earlier, Adora thought they were getting along – Catra seemed to be showing off some of her daggers to Glimmer, lobbing them up from the bottom of the stands to a hastily painted target at the top. (Adora wasn’t clear why Catra was throwing them directly over the heads of the audience, but Glimmer seemed entertained, so she let it go.)

Now, though? Now, Catra looks terrifying. Adora cannot fathom why today was the day Glimmer decided to ignore non-verbal cues, but there she is, lifting the cone to her mouth.

“Somehow, you’ve managed to avoid fucking it up until now – “

“She-Ra!”

“Quiet, Bow! Glimmer’s – ”

Bow sidles up beside her, one hand on her elbow, the other rapping her helmet. The clang reverberates around her, filling her ears.

“Ah! What the shit, Bow?! You know I hate that!”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but – ”

Bow’s turning her, walking her deeper towards the privacy of the space. Behind her, she can hear Glimmer, voice heavy with exasperation, “– there’s just one more fucking bout.”

“But what?”

“We really should do the relaxation exercises we talked about!”

“No, I’ve said before, I – ”

Bow leads her into her small private area, and he guides her to sit, removing her helm. Glimmer’s voice is duller, muted by the walls, but she can make out an especially forceful “ – if you fucking try anything, Queen Catra – ”

“Bow, she’s really pissed at Catra!”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Adora. Focus on the joust!”

“I don’t think it – ”

“Adora. I know my wife and I know yours.”

“Yeah, you do! So you know she’s – ”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Now, here are your earplugs. Deep breaths, with me.”

Bow’s face is serious and painfully earnest. He’s reaching out, a pair of cotton balls resting in his palm.

“Do you really think these stupid relaxation exercises will help me?”

“I think they’ll help all of us, Adora.”

“Ugh, fine.” She snatches the plugs, puts them in. Sound fades away. She’s left with the steady bass beat of her heart and the gentle billow of her breathing. Bow’s in front of her. He’s raising his hands and lowering them, guiding her breathing. She huffs but joins in with him.

And it… helps. Not a ton, she’s still amped on adrenaline, but a bit. Her mind quiets, her fears lessen, her stress flows away. It’s just a joust. She’s jousted before. She’s won jousts before. Sure, it’s against Scorpia, and it’s in front of her wife, and it’s all in service of a giant surprise, but. Basically, it’s just a joust.

She realizes her eyes have closed when Bow taps her on the forehead. She opens them to see him excited, gesturing at his ears, miming pulling something out of them… oh. She pulls them out.

“Everyone’s ready for you, She-Ra!”

They are, she realizes. It’s muffled through the walls, but she can hear and feel a low chant, shaking the stable. She puts her helm back on, mounts Swift Wind, and rides out to a thunderous chorus.

“She-Ra! She Will! Rock You! She-Ra! She Will! Rock You!”

She’s rocked backed slightly, Swift Wind heeling in surprise. She looks over to see Bow, grinning, a lance raised in his hand.

“Well? Time to win it all, She-Ra.”

Yeah it is. She grabs the lance, hauling it upright, and rides out for a warmup lap.

Adora might have wanted to bask in the crowd calling her name, but the cheer quickly drops out of her mind – Scorpia is on the field, and she can’t help but consider her opponent. She’s strong, probably stronger than Adora, and has a much better reach. Her lances, modified to accommodate the claws, are much harder to bat aside.

Adora’s advantages here are limited, but they are there: she’s quicker, more experienced, and she and Swift Wind are nearly telepathic. If she’s going to make this win spectacular, she’s going to have to play this very smart.

Adora glances to the stands, hoping that Glimmer and – Catra. Oh dear. Catra’s visibly furious,  venting her rage by tearing down someone’s sign. (Shame. It looked well-made, and from a substantial high weight colored paper.) She’s definitely working through something there, shredding her target to barely recognizable scraps.

Well, if Catra’s claimed the stands, that mean Glimmer must be on the platform – and she is. She’s tossed the cone aside, so at least her speech has stopped, but she’s still obviously incensed. Apparently at Sea Hawk, now? She’s standing across his table, finger driven into the wood, saying something Adora can’t make out over the sound of the crowd.

Time to dust off the Post-Wedding Tournament Reconciliation Plan – it’s bad enough that her wife and her foster sister don’t get along, but to take it out on other people for no reason?

No matter, not right now. Adora’s got a joust to win. She takes a deep breath, trying to put their squabbles out of her mind, and continues her warmup.

She spares a glance again once she finishes her exercises. Both Catra and Glimmer are standing there. Apparently, even Glimmer’s not stubborn enough to kick Catra off her own platform when she decides to run a joust. Catra raises the flag. Adora squares up across from Scorpia. Catra drops the flag.

Adora’s leaning on speed for this pass, trying to deliver a recklessly aggressive strike. She drives Swift Wind ahead, staying low, bobbing her head to throw off Scorpia’s aim. The red armor draws closer, closer, and Adora shifts her lance back for a moment, before abruptly rotating her torso into a thrust.

It is a visually gorgeous move, but it does leave her open if Scorpia manages to hold it together, which – Scorpia’s taken aback by it, but she doesn’t lose her aim entirely.

Shit. Adora hurriedly shatters her lance against the bright red breastplate, then quickly turns further, forcing herself sideways until her armor locks and bites. It’s just in time. Her frantic twist forces Scorpia’s direct slam into a glancing blow that skips off Adora’s chest – holy shit that hurts – and mercifully avoids breaking the lance. She’s won one. Barely. On the ride back to Bow, Adora can feel every breath, shallow and searing.

Bow mouths a question – probably shouts it, honestly – but Adora shakes her head. She’s locked in. The noise of the crowd is scarcely a low roar in her ears at this point; his voice has no chance. All she’s really perceiving are her own heartbeats and breaths, both drumming out sharp rhythms of pain across her chest.

Adora forces herself to breath deep, breastplate heaving. With a wet crackle, the pain drops away, leaving her to furiously blink the blurriness from her sight. She’s good to go, so she reaches down and grabs the lance.

She spares a glace to Catra, who’s raising the flag. She and Swift Wind circle back, prepping for another run. It drops, and –

It goes wrong from the start. She is planning on using her speed again, but Scorpia’s clearly decided she won’t get surprised a second time. Even as she kicks Swift Wind into motion, Adora can’t see a good opening. She feints, twice, but Scorpia takes neither of them, her lance aimed resolutely at Adora’s chest.

Adora’s still closing, desperately searching. Finally, she thinks she sees a small chance. It’s terrible, and requires her to bat aside Scorpia’s attack, but it’s all she’s got.  She dives for it, striking at Scorpia’s lance, trying to – her blow ricochets off uselessly.

Scorpia’s too strong. There’s a moment where Adora tries to recover, rebalance, pull a draw out of this disaster – but every direction carries her into the path of Scorpia’s lance. The strike, with full weight and strength of Scorpia behind it, shatters against Adora’s shoulder.

There’s a painless jolt. Adora’s shoved away from the saddle. She tries to haul herself back on target, but a spike of pain briefly flashes down her entire arm, forcing her lance hand to open wide. Somehow, Swift Wind’s already in motion, tossing a stutter-step that catches her. Barely.

It’s a chaotic next few moments, though. She’s left with glimpses and fractured impressions. Swift Wind carrying through the ride out, shuffling to prevent her from falling off again. Her shoulder continually refusing commands, even as the pain fades. Her lance leaving her grip, dropping to the ground.

Catra in the stands, face frozen.

Adora snaps back to the moment - she’s recentering herself on the saddle and closing towards Bow. He’s shouting something. Her shoulder has already faded to a low thumping, so nothing’s dislocated. Everything’s fine, she just needs another lance. She makes a grab for the one he’s holding, but her arm –

“Bow. Bow.”

“- were you thinking, you can’t – “

“Bow!”

“What?!”

“My shoulder plate is locked up. What’s going on with it?”

“Your – you - ” Bow sees her stance and sighs. “Fine. Stop moving, let me look.”

Adora loses sight of him, but his tone of voice carries his discontent regardless. “Well, that’s that. Armor’s done, Ador – She-Ra. Dented in.”

That’s not going to work. Adora needs a functional arm. She can’t win a pass if she can’t move a lance.

“Can you undent it?”

“Can I undent – No, Adora! We’re in a field! I’d need a forge! And friends! Manning the bellows alone is a two-handed job, to say nothing of - ”

Bow keeps talking, probably, but Adora’s lost in thought. She has two hands. A switch could work. Sure, there might be a few problems, but she’ll figure them out as she finds them.

The first problem comes early. Bow’s on the wrong side of her to hand her a lance. She turns Swift Wind around.

Second problem’s pretty quick, too. Her reins are now in the wrong hand. She pats Swift Wind, and then passes them to her lance hand. She won’t be able to move them well, but Swift Wind doesn’t need much direction anyways.

The third problem bubbles up in her mind soon after, but isn’t dispatched as easily. Adora is going to have to land this strike with her off hand. And prevent Scorpia from landing hers. She resolves to ponder that while riding.

Bow seems to have stopped talking, but has picked up a dumbfounded stare in exchange. Adora reaches out with her off hand, gesturing for the lance. He holds it out tentatively, mouth forming words that she is once again resolutely failing to acknowledge. She grabs the lance and hefts it, gets a feel for her range of motion as Swift Wind carries her to the start. Her wrapped wound stings a bit as she moves, but she’ll manage.

She sees Catra – not the time, worry about her later – where’s the flag? Raised. Sights down the field – Scorpia’s there, her pose and stance radiating shock. Fair.

Flag? Still raised? Should have dropped by – Catra’s staring at her openly.

Okay, somewhat understandable. She probably wants to check if this mysterious knight is actually trying to joust with only one useable arm. She raises the lance, slightly jerkily, and salutes Catra. The flag stays high. Adora nods deeply, motions exaggerated in the helm. She holds the nod for a second, trying to convey Yes, I know what I’m doing. And yes, I’m going to do it anyways.

Catra takes one last long look, then drops the flag. Adrenaline floods into Adora, sharpening her mind. She kicks Swift Wind and starts thinking furiously. Her switch has created an interesting conundrum. With the lance in her off hand, Adora’s going to have to turn square to her opponent to make any attack. She’ll present her whole breastplate, dead on. It’s an easy target.

Plus, she has no hope of deflecting anything Scorpia throws at her, not with her off arm. Really, she’s got one option: she needs to make Scorpia miss first, then quickly land her own blow. Looking at the red rider stampeding towards her, though, she’s a little concerned. Scorpia’s totally committed, clearly looking to land a knockout blow, lance high and forward.

Just like that, Adora knows what to do. It’s going to be close, but she’s pretty sure it’ll work.

She sits up fully, clearly showing her head. Scorpia notices the mistake, adjusts her aim. Adora takes it in stride. Her hand drops slightly, the lance an unusual weight in the wrong hand. Adora drives her legs into Swift Wind, gripping tighter and tighter.

Scorpia’s closing. Her lance is starting to fill Adora’s vision. Adora blindly lifts her lance, up, up, up, towards Scorpia’s chest, her own gaze fixed on the lance approaching her face – and then Adora ducks forward over the saddle, snapping her own torso downward.

Suddenly, she’s lying flat on Swift Wind, helm against his mane. There’s a low whoosh from a bright red lance driving through the space her head just occupied, even as her totally unbraced off hand lands an unseen strike on Scorpia – and takes the entirety of the resulting impact. The shock crashes through her. She can’t help but cry out.

It doesn’t matter. Over it all Adora hears the sweet sound of her lance cracking, splintering, and then shattering entirely.

There’s noise, earthshattering noise, the crowd chanting something that Adora cannot perceive. She rides to the center of the field and sloppily dismounts, then locks her eyes on Catra. She’s not missing this reaction, not for anything.

She awkwardly reaches with her off hand, grabs, and – tugs. The helm comes free, tossed to the ground, and the entire field falls silent as Adora, Princess Adora of the Fright Zone, wife of Queen Catra, is victoriously revealed.

Catra’s dumbfounded, speechlessly staring at her, shock written across her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but the crowd gets there first.

“ADORA! ADORA! ADORA!”

Adora takes a well-earned bow. She’s done it. She fought her way through an entire tournament under a false name. Her plan was perfect. Nobody knew a thing.

“But the point is, Adora, it doesn’t matter that everybody knew! We made sure nobody did anything! Catra made everyone fight you harder, I made an absolute fuckload of posters, and we both – ”

“I should have known that was you, there’s no way Catra made signage like that – ”

“Hey!”

“She’s right and you know it,” Bow says while refilling the glass.

“Still. A little marital faith would be nice.”

“So anyways, we both took on crowd control for the actual thing, which was a fucking nightmare.” Glimmer and Catra share a mutual shudder.

“Totally absurd! I knew my subjects liked you, but holy shit – ”

“Crowd control?” Adora asks.

“ – am I at all intimidating anymore? Anyone? Arrow Boy?”

“Not to get too in this, but – not really, no?”

“Not really!? I have literal claws! And fangs!”

“Yeah, but now that I know you... You’re just so cute!”

“I am not cu – mmmrph!” Adora’s hand descends over Catra’s mouth.

“Really, Bow? You know she hates being called that.” Bow has the decency to retreat behind a frantic sip of wine, so Adora continues, “Glimmer, what exactly was – Catra.  Stop. Biting. – crowd control?”

“Basically - every person there wanted to cheer you on, because they love you. But they kept trying to call you Adora, which would have ruined the whole fucking thing.”

“Oh. So – ”

“So we ran around shutting people up and tearing down signs instead. I even had to make a speech before the last bout because they were getting so excited.”

“So, between the guards, the combatants, the announcer, and the audience - you unapologetically told literally everyone. Except for me.”

Plus One

They’re midway through a wonderful dinner. Glimmer and Catra are both calm, whatever spat they had settled. They’ve gone through several bottles of wine since Adora’s win – Glimmer and Catra taking the lead there – and Adora’s starting to relax, drop into that dozy fulfilled fog she always finds from exertion.

She’s happy she does, because it lets her restfully observe. She loves her friends, but it’s rare for them to have a conversation where she feels absolutely no desire to say anything. The change of pace is nice. Every once in a while, Adora will pick up some words or a phrase, but for the most part she just lets the conversation wash over her, taking the time to soak in each of her friends.

Glimmer’s flushed and happy, excited to have been a part of this. Bow’s quieter, but satisfaction is radiating off him, like he’s done a critical job for the group. Catra’s… Catra is also proud. Proud of Adora, sure, that’s part of it, but also, just… proud of herself?

Her ears are engaged, she’s flashing toothy smiles, and Adora has been steadily suffused with a low purr all night. There’s a hand resting under Adora’s shirt, along her back, gently massaging her muscles. Her tail curls around one leg, relaxing and tensing. Sometimes Adora will look down at her plate to find some morsel missing. Catra’s affection is universally tinged with satisfaction.

Adora’s not stupid. Sure, she gets a little too focused, sometimes. She might miss things other people might consider obvious. But when she puts her mind to a mystery, she can usually figure it out.

Catra’s proud of something, and also getting along with Bow and Glimmer. She’s not annoyed or peeved at having been surprised.

More specifically, Catra’s definitely getting along with Glimmer. Even as Adora relaxes and ponders, she can see that. Catra and Glimmer are laughing, giggling, joking. Every once in a while, Bow will join in, but for the most part, the conversation that’s been flowing since Adora started to drop into this space has been driven by Catra and Glimmer.

Adora waits until Bow and Glimmer are both talking, then leans in behind Catra’s ear. In a low, gentle tone, she says, “I’m happy to see that you and Glimmer are getting along so well.”

Catra drops out of Glimmer and Bow’s conversation entirely, turning towards Adora. “Sparkles? She’s not so bad. Grows on you.”

Glimmer calls back, slightly too loud, “You’re not so bad yourself, Catra! Might need to steal you for meetings from here on out. Get everyone into fucking line.”

Catra laughs, then checks in with Adora via a questioning glance. Adora’s good, she’s said her piece. She tosses a rub behind Catra’s ear, tweaks an eyebrow in permission. Catra kneads a hand deeper into her back, appreciatively circling a sore muscle, and rejoins the conversation with Glimmer and Bow.

Adora starts running a hand up and down the back of Catra’s neck, prompting a purr that rolls into Adora’s ears even as she keeps conversing with the others. Adora stays quiet and keeps an eye on her foster sister. She’s open, excited, and bright – her and Catra are currently making plans to meet up in Bright Moon next season, so that she and Catra can figure out some treaty or something.

She knows Glimmer and Catra must have made nice earlier, but her wife and foster sister aren’t just being nice right now. They’re actively conspiring, with an air of familiarity. The topic shifts, making veiled references that Adora’s too tired to bother tracking: Glimmer mentions daggers, Bow’s talking stationary, Catra’s complimenting a speech.

Speech. The word flies past Adora’s tired mind - sticks, catches, sinks in. Glimmer made a speech. That speech was meant to rebuke Catra, she thought. But Catra has no issues with Glimmer. And Glimmer is enthusiastic about Catra getting people into line.

This does not add up. Glimmer’s at the center of it, and Adora’s never been very subtle.

“Hey, Glimmer. Thanks again for coming out for this.”

“Awww, Adora. I was fucking happy to!”

“I was wondering – “

“Plus, it was good to spend some time with Catra!”

“Oh, so you do like me, Sparkles.”

“How the fuck could I not, after today?”

Wait, today? Glimmer wasn’t doing anything but fighting with Catra today. The only way Glimmer would get along with Catra today was if…

Oh shit. Catra knew.

Her friends. Her family, really, her wife and her foster sister and her brother in law. The nerve.

So if Catra knew… why didn’t she say anything?

How many other people knew?

Her opponents? No, those were fair, difficult. And they culminated in a fight that – Adora can feel herself shaking a bit. The sight of the lance coming for her head – frankly she might have gotten off lucky, there. Scorpia’s final blow could have very well landed instead, and then… Well, Adora probably wouldn’t be enjoying a calm evening with her friends right now.  

And Catra – Catra knew. Catra watched that entire matchup. She raised the flag knowing Adora was riding. She could have stopped the bout. She trusted Adora to make it clear that she wanted what she doing.

The hand resting on Catra’s neck curls in, and Adora buries her face in the top of Catra’s head. She kisses it, repeating “I love you” under her breath softly enough for only Catra to hear. Catra stiffens momentarily, her conversation with Bow and Glimmer stuttering before continuing, but Adora’s too busy appreciating her wife to care.

Eventually, she’s had her fill, so she pulls Catra away. Looks her in the eyes.

“I promise I won’t be mad. How long did you know for?”

“We understand if you’re mad, Adora.” Bow’s face is heavy, almost mournful, and his hand is resting interdictively on Glimmer’s arm. “Catra and Glimmer and I – “

Bow cuts himself off, quickly glances at his wife, and promptly offers her the wineglass. She takes his mollifying sacrifice and gestures for him to continue. “Catra and Glimmer and I… we know what we did wasn’t exactly right. We’re sorry we lied to you. We couldn’t see another way for this to happen, but that doesn’t make our approach justified.”

Adora rocks back slightly. Her hand loosens from Catra’s mouth, no longer covering it fully, but her wife stays silent. Both Bow and Glimmer look at her – Bow perturbed, Glimmer expectant.

“I’m not mad, Bow, really. I just wish you had…”

She trails into silence. I wish you had, what? Told me? Trusted me? Supported me.

Except - you did.

Bow kept her focused. He brought her snacks, gave her space to think, lead her through breathing exercises.

Glimmer spent her entire day wrangling rowdy attendees. She made signage. Put up posters. Gave a speech. Yelled at and harassed and browbeat people until they behaved, for Adora’s sake.

Catra gave every opponent explicit instructions to try their absolute best to beat her own wife. She ran herself ragged around the stands to keep everyone on the same page. And she reached out to Glimmer and Bow when she realized she couldn’t do it all herself.

All of them gave up their time, their own enjoyment, for her. In the face of that, how is she supposed to feel anything except loved?

Her friends look increasingly alarmed by whatever emotion she’s absentmindedly displaying, so she wetly hurries out, “I’m good! I’m good. It’s just a lot.”

Catra turns in her grasp and reaches a hand up to wipe Adora’s cheek. “I… really am sorry, Adora, I didn’t – it wasn’t meant to upset you - “

Adora lays her hand over Catra’s and gently halts her motions. “No, really, I – thank you. I know you didn’t have to do this, and I want you to know it meant a lot. I’m good, I really am.”

Glimmer looks at her askance. “You sure?”

“Of course. I love you, and I’m happy you did it. I promise.”

They seem doubtful, but eventually Adora turns her friends back towards the wine and the food and makes the encouraging noises required to get them back to their previous cheery state. The jokes and the laughter start back up. Soon, there’s light and elation roiling off them, enough for Adora to slip back into her contemplative state.

Upset? How could she be? What more could they have done? Turnabout is fair play. Adora was trying to surprise people, and she got surprised instead. And, she sees now, for reasons of love and care – they were not trying to make a fool of her, not any more than she was trying to make a fool of Catra. They just wanted to give her something she wanted.

She knows she can’t convey her gratitude to them, not fully; language cannot bear the total weight of her feelings. And yet, she knows that they realize it well. It’s a quiet truth, but one carried by the smallest of moments. Glimmer holds her eye after a comment, cracks a broad smile, and Adora knows her love. Bow and her share a glance at the antics of the others, his mouth rolling slightly, and Adora knows his love. Catra tosses a quick smirk at her as she grabs a bite off Adora’s plate, and Adora knows her love.

Her dozy satisfaction returns, stronger this time. Sure, she didn’t surprise them. It doesn’t matter. Her small prank would be nothing compared to the warmth of such indefatigable affection. She’d take this moment in any – every – heartbeat.

Adora’s plan has failed, in every way imaginable. And it is perfect.