Archive of Our Own ^beta

Catra, Enchantress and Queen of the Nymphs: Island of Aeaea, Present

Catra is having the kind of day where she prefers to be alone. She’s said as much to her advisor and Catra trusts her nymphs to go about their days without needing much from her. It’s one of the beautiful things about living on an island where you’ve known most of the inhabitants for many lifetimes.

She’s managed to move from her bedroom to her private study and she considers that to be a success. Instead of sitting at her desk, she’s laying across a chaise, trying to stop herself from sighing in some forlorn fashion that’s unbecoming of a Queen such as herself.  

She can’t help that she misses her wife. Adora’s been long dead but there isn’t a day that passes when Catra doesn’t yearn for her. Given that Adora was a demigod, she thought she’d spend ages without having to worry about her mortality, but she was brutally taken from her much too soon, even by mortal standards.

Many days she finds it in her to carry on, the love for her Nymphs and her island warming her enough that she doesn’t feel the loss in a paralyzing way. But today is not one of those days—it’s the kind of day where if she truly gave in, she’d spend it crying in her bed cursing the world and the Gods for being unfair and unkind.

She turns her head when she hears a sharp knock on her door. “I’m so sorry, my Queen.” The guard that steps through looks impossibly apologetic, and Catra knows something is wrong. "Someone arrived on the island."

She straightens up, forcing her heart to ice over. "Who?"

"Men.” Her lips are barred in a snarl around the word. “From the ship, I suspect it to be Greeks."

Catra turns to look out of the window that she’s now leaning against. The foliage around the palace is too thick for her to see the shore, but she’d suspect it must be the warriors who are looking for passage home after they laid siege to Trojan lands for a bloody and war-torn decade.

"Let them come." Catra has no doubt that she won't be caught unaware. "Tell everyone to stay deeper in the woods today. I will deal with them alone."

She won't risk any of her nymphs. Catra learned long ago that she must protect her home and her people at all costs. Not one man is trustworthy in her eyes after what she’s lived through.

Island of Aeaea, Thirty Years Ago

Catra will never understand why Adora loves the edge of the forest, but she loves her wife and she’ll follow her wherever she wishes. “You know you might get a sunburn here.”

Adora shakes her head, pulling on Catra’s hand as they continue to walk toward the sunshine. “The sun wouldn’t dare to slight you so. Besides, we can’t see the water so far inside.”

“Yes, you can—you just have to let me take you into the treetops.” Catra loves when Adora lets her do just that, enjoying seeing her usually overconfident wife outside her element.

“We can do that tomorrow, I promise.” She looks at the clearing they’re heading toward. “I really want to smell the ocean breeze today.”

Catra stops as she picks up another sound. Adora stops as well, her senses not quite as sharp as Catra’s but after years together she’s almost more in tune with Catra’s body than her own.

"Foreigners." She hisses under her breath.

Adora leans forward, squinting into the light as she makes out the ship Catra has already clocked. "Looks like it." She has a half smile on her lips when she looks over at Catra. "We should welcome them."

Catra rolls her eyes—they've had this argument before. "It's not safe."

Adora leans her forehead forward until it presses against Catra's. "If you hadn't taken a chance on me, where would we be?" She implores.

She raises an eyebrow. "Well, it's not like I'm looking for another wife."

"Catra!" Adora laughs and shakes her head. "An act of kindness begets more kindness in the future."

She eyes Adora. "Are you sure you're Athena's daughter?"

"Well, I don't see eye to eye with her on everything." Adora rolls her eyes. "You know, she's finally found someone who killed her damn boar."

"So, she has a new champion?"

Adora shakes her head. "Not quite—it was just a boy. She's waiting to see who he becomes but she has high hopes. He's meant to be King of Ithaca."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, if it makes her less put out that you aren't her warrior any longer, I'm all for it."

"I abandoned my quest to live out my life on a far-off island.” Adora shrugs, a self-depreciating smile on her face. “She has a right to be a little upset."

"It's been twenty years, Adora." As a Goddess herself, Catra knows how long an immortal memory can run, but she can’t help but think Athena’s silence is petty.

"And it's been fine." That's an optimistic view of the past—Catra thought Athena might have burned their island to a crisp when she realized her darling She-ra was no longer interested in the wars of men. Adora places a soft kiss on Catra's palm. "And whoever these strangers are—it'll also be fine."

She lets out a soft sigh and nods. "If you say so, dear."

"Come on. Let’s head to the palace so we can meet them there."

It’s one of the last things that Adora said before they kill her. The Hydra blood had obviously been meant for Catra but when the men tried to hand Catra the garment covered in the poisonous blood, Adora interfered, grabbing it to inspect it.

She’d immediately screamed in pain, her knees giving out. She’s used the last of her strength to hurl the garment at the men, several of them dying instantly. The Gods weren’t so merciful to Adora.

“Why isn’t this working?” Catra mumbles to herself as she presses healing magic into Adora’s chest. It’s not her forte—Adora is much better at it than she is. Around her, the nymphs corral the last few men, but she heeds them no mind. Nothing matters more than saving Adora. “This should be working.”

Adora reaches up a shaky hand and puts it atop Catra’s. “I don’t think it’s going to work.” She mumbles out. “You’re—you have to let me go.”

“No.” Catra shakes her head, tears leaking down her nose and hitting Adora’s sweaty face. “Adora, I’m not letting you go.”

Her breathing is steady, but it looks painful as if shards of glass are stuck in her lungs. Her whole body tenses in an inhumane way, almost like a snake devouring a meal.

“Catra.” She pants out, her hand squeezing weakly. “I can’t—it hurts.”

It’s more than hurt Catra quickly realizes. The veins beneath her ever-paler skin are turning a gnarly purple, the poisonous effect creeping further into her system. Adora will suffer and the likelihood of survival is low given what Catra knows of Hydra blood.

“If I keep you here there’s a chance. That I can find a way to get this poison out of you.” She begs uselessly.

Adora shakes her head, the veins in her neck protrude as if rivers of ink sliding toward her head and her heart. “It’s too late. I’m too strong for the poison to kill me, but I’m too weak to overcome it.”

Catra cries into Adora’s chest and even though it seems impossible, Adora holds her running a hand across her back even through her pain and trembles. Catra pulls back and looks at how frail Adora looks and it feels impossible. Just an hour before she looked as vital as ever walking across the forest with Catra.

“You want me to—you want me to end you?” She whispers, appalled by the suggestion as it sinks in.

Adora nods her head. “I’d rather you kill me than give them the satisfaction.”

Catra stares at her with wide eyes, wondering if she has it in her to give her love what she demands. She doesn’t know that she does, but Catra fears she can’t deny her either. She leans forward slowly, holding Adora’s face in her hands.

“You’re my one and only wife. I’ll cherish and remember you always.” Catra leans down and kisses Adora for the last time. She exhales, her spell completes the moment their lips part.

The purple veins are still prominent in Adora’s neck and jaw, but she lets out a sigh of relief and her body sinks onto the cold hard ground. “Be happy, Catra. I love—” Her voice ends abruptly, her eyes vacantly staring up—the spark Catra could recognize from anywhere gone.

She wants to break the world in half with her grief. She takes her eyes off Adora’s corpse for a moment to see the survivors of the party that attacked her palace—the men that have truly taken her wife from her.

She stands, her body shaking with rage. The men have nowhere to run but they certainly wish to, if the look of sheer terror on their faces is any indication.

“You pigs will pay for what you’ve done to me. It’ll be the last mistake you make.”

Island of Aeaea, Present

She pulls herself from the violent memory, her heart churning in her chest as if Adora's blood still runs on her hands. Catra will never be able to let go of it—of how brutally Adora was stripped from her, as if she didn't matter. In the part she played in Adora’s death.

Catra takes a calming breath, letting her emotions plunge deep inside of her where she can't feel them. It's better than the alternative.

She walks toward the entrance of her palace, opening the door and stepping out. The group of men that are exploring her island are like many who have traipsed through it. They bear armor and swords, and an exhausted demeanor that tells her it's been ages since they were any place they belonged.

They don't belong here either and they'll pay dearly for the intrusion.

The first one notices her and gasps. All the other men are on the alert, many of them with a hand on their weapons as if ready to draw.

She holds her hands up, an almost universal language that she means no harm. It's a lie.

"Come inside." Catra smiles widely, careful to soften her voice and her eyes so they don't notice. It's not a problem—men never notice. "I've got you. You must be very weary from your travels."

The men stare at her wide eyed as if she's a marvel, some with wonder and other with lust plain in their gaze. They whisper amongst themselves for a moment before the first of them confidently march forward. As she closes the palace door behind the last man, a smirk finds its way across her lips.

She wonders if they'll miss walking on two legs when she's through with them.

Bow, King of Ithaca: Island of Aeaea, Present

He probably shouldn't have sent the crew ahead without him, but Bow needs a moment alone. It's quick work to make sure everything is fine with their ship before he walks onto the beach.

He takes off his helmet and puts it upside down in the sand before sitting. It'll be bothersome to get the fine grains out of his clothes, but he can't care about that right now.

"Glimmer." He whispers to himself, wishing once again that he was reunited with his wife. "You'd know what to do."

He doesn't know how he's managed to make it here with his heart so far from him. Glimmer is the light of his life, and he could barely recall what her face looked like, even though he thought of her every day, opening his memories and delving into them as if they were his greatest treasures.

Ithaca, Ten Years Ago

Bow marvels at how the whole world can fit within his arms. He's holding Glimmer, his arms folded around her belly and his chin resting against her neck.

“What do you think you’ll name the babe?” Bow wonders allowed as he rubs the place where their child lies. “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

“Do you prefer one over the other?” She asks curiously.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, nuzzling closer to her. “I know that as King I should want a son, but could you imagine a daughter to dote on? I’d love either one.”

She turns in his arms and Bow can see the streak of tears on her face. He sighs and he’s sure the same heartbreak is reflected back at her.

She pulls him close, burrowing her head beneath his chin. “It’s not fair that you have to go to war because one woman escaped to be with another man.”

“We don’t know that she escaped of her own free will.” Bow pushes back gently. He knew Helen well and he couldn’t bear to think she would have betrayed her vows to King Menelaus. He runs a hand beneath Glimmer’s chin. “If someone took you, there was no war I wouldn’t wage for your return.”

She gives him a soft half smile. “As if anyone could rip me from your side.” She sighs and nods. “I know you must go. And I’ll be waiting.” She puts her hand across her middle. “Me and the babe.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll think of you always. I won’t let anything happen to me—I have too many precious things to look forward to.”

Glimmer loops her hands behind his head. “You better return unharmed. Are you sure you don’t want to name the babe?”

Bow shakes his head. “I know it’s not traditional, but I want you to feel free to name them whatever suits them. You’ll be able to see them and know what fits. I’ll love them all the same.”

He watches the smile that blooms across Glimmer’s face and he knows he’s made the right decision. “Alright. Let’s enjoy the last few days before you’re deployed then.”

At that time, Bow could never imagine he would go a decade without knowing his child’s name.

Island of Aeaea, Present

"Captain!"

Bow whips his head around, eyes searching for his second in command who by all accounts shouldn't be here. "Sea Hawk?" Bow looks at him as he runs toward them. "Why are you back so soon? Where are the rest of the men?"

They'd finally found some respite after barely escaping Poseidon's clutches. Bow still hadn't even begun to mourn all the men who drown because of him.

“We came across a palace, but nothing could have prepared us for the power that laid inside.” Sea Hawk is out of breath, resting his hands on his needs. "The men were captured."

"Captured? By what?"

"It was something we're all weak for—a woman." He shakes his head. "She invited us into her palace. She showed no malice, but something felt off to me—she was too cold for the kindness she was trying to display. I tried to convince the men not to go in, but no one listened to me. I sneaked away but I couldn't hear it. She fed them and then—the squealing." Sea Hawk shudders his face one of revulsion.

"Squealing," Bow repeats dumbly. "They were being tortured?"

"No, no it wasn't human—she turned them to pigs."

“You’re certain?”

“It’s not something I’d forget—it wasn’t a slow transformation.”

"We have to go back for them." Whether the woman turned them to pigs or was just holding them hostage, Bow wouldn't stand for the rest of his men being slaughtered.

“No we don’t.” Sea Hawk puts a hand on Bow’s shoulder. “Look at everything we’ve been through—the war in Troy, the fight with the cyclop, the disastrous run-in with Poseidon—every single one has cost more than we’ve earned, Captain. Sea Hawk looks haggard as he expresses himself, as if discussing their plights makes them heavier on his shoulder. "I’m not one to shy away from a fight but what are we to do against a woman who has magic? Such an enchantress will be impossible to defeat. We should cut out losses and leave."

“No, no. I’d like to leave but I can’t.” Bow shakes his head. "We aren't going to leave them behind." He just allowed five hundred if his men to die. He was responsible for getting them home and he failed them. Bow couldn't stand to lose the rest of them. "I can hardly sleep with all of the losses we’ve faced. And if it were you, Sea Hawk, I'd go after you without a second thought. I'd hope you'd do the same for me. We're better than that."

Sea Hawk looks sufficiently cowed, glancing at the ground. “What if she can’t be killed? Then will you choose to leave?”

“I don’t know.” It’s impossible to imagine a world where Bow would want to quit on the few men who have survived until now. They’d been battling for a decade together and he’s already led them so astray—he must bring them home.

“She’s a clever witch—it’s a game of wits that you don’t have to play, Captain.” Sea Hawk words again, his eyes darting back to the ship.

Bow sighs. “I have to try. We’ve made it this far—I have to believe that the Gods will smile on us, and we’ll make it further. Even with the losses we’ve faced.”

Before Sea Hawk responds, there’s an ethereal voice that makes itself known.

"What a lovely speech from a debonair captain."

Bow reaches for the quivers at his back, looking around for the source of the voice, but seeing nothing. “Who goes there?”

“A friend—someone who could help you save your friends from Catra. She really isn’t a foe to be trifled without help, you know.”

“What kind of friend?” Bow is no stranger to meeting the gods, but as of late his encounters have made more enemies than friends.

“Someone who can send a message.”

“Hermes?”

“The one and only.” He suddenly appears before Bow and Sea Hawk, his skin almost glowing as he smiles at them. “Wouldn’t you like an advantage? Your outcome preferred, perhaps?”

“Why would you do that?” Bow knows that the will of the Gods is fickle if not true. A blessing can become a curse in the blink of an eye.

The God shrugs a carefree air to him that Bow had never seen in a God. “My sister is fond of you, and many are counting on you to make it back to Ithaca. If I can tilt the scale, then I will.”

“I don’t know that Athena remains fond of me.” Bow feels obligated to disclose. Although Athena was his mentor for years, she’d recently washed her hands of him. It still stings to think about.

“Still, I’d like you to have this.” He produces a white flower that smells absolutely divine, root and all. “You eat this moly root and it will shield you from any spell. It’ll also give you the ability to project a monster of your imagination—just for a moment. Enough to disarm her.”

Bow grips the flower in his hand as he bows to the God. “Hermes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, you may very well still die.” He lets out a whimsical laugh, as if Bow’s life means nothing to him—which, is likely. “Good luck.”

He was gone as quickly as he arrived. Bow grimaces as he takes a bite of the root the bitter taste filling his mouth. He looks back at Sea Hawk. “Show me the way.”

He’s not surprised that the scouting party ended up here—the palace is beautiful and large. It’s hard to miss once you get into the thick of the forest. He tells Sea Hawk to wait for him as he walks up alone—he doesn’t want to risk his dear friend, not after he showed so many doubts about coming here already.

Bow can tell he’s underprepared for whatever lies inside, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. He must protect his men and the only way he can think to do it is to confront this witch—Catra, as Hermes called her. He knocks on the huge door, the thuds muffled from the thickness of the wood beneath his fist.

He almost knocks again, worried that he wasn’t heard the first time, when the door creaks open. He steps inside, his eyes roaming around the beautiful architecture. The palace is immaculate, a mix of Greek and Macedonian architecture and art filling it.

He stops short when he notices a woman before him—surely, the same Goddess that apprehended his men. She’s beautiful in the way most Goddesses are. Her skin is tanned and freckled, perfect features adorning her face as she puts a hand on her hip.

“Lady of the palace. I am Bow, King of Ithaca” He bows low, careful to keep his hands free in case he needs to reach for a weapon. “I’m so sorry to intrude—I’m hoping that I’ve been misinformed. I sent a scouting party earlier and I believe they turned up here. We’ve had a bad run of luck so I must ask . . . did you do something to them?”

She smirks, her eyes calculating. “Who me? I just revealed their true form.”

Bow puffs up his chest. “You turned them into pigs.”

She scoffs and waves her hand in the air. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here but heed me, mortal—I will protect my nymphs at all costs. Your men should have known better than to take a step inside my palace and they didn’t and for that they paid a price.” She narrows her gaze on him. “Now, if you make one wrong move, you’ll be done for. I suggest that you run from whence you came and don’t turn back.”

He shakes his head. “You’re mistaken—you don’t seem to have the advantage you think. I ingested moly before coming here so we’re on even ground. If you give me my men back we’ll return from where we have come and we won’t bother you.”

She takes a step forward. “You’re lying—moly can’t be acquired by any mortal.”

“Then I must be a god like you.” Bow crosses his arms. “More reason for you to return my men.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “As if a God would be interested in the return of those swine.” She tilts her head and then another smirk flutters across her face. “Hermes gave it to you, didn’t he? You must be Athena’s boy.”

“I’m not—yes, maybe Hermes helped me.” He admits. “But regardless, we’re equally matched. I won’t leave until you return my men.” Bow charges forward quickly, pulling out his sword and holding it to Catra’s neck in a blur of movement. He’s a little surprised it worked, but she doesn’t seem overly concerned by the weapon. “Give them back.”

“You know, we aren’t so different—my nymphs are like my daughters, and I protect them at all cost. The last time we allowed men into this palace” —her face twitches a flash of pain crossing it— “we faced a heavy loss. And you’ve given me no reason to trust you.” Her eyes flash again, in a way Bow finds unsettling. “But there are other ways to ensure my trust.”

His brow knits together, baffled by what the Goddess means. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Catra, Enchantress and Queen of the Nymphs: Island of Aeaea, Present

She holds back a scoff as she stares at the befuddled mortal’s face. Men truly are all the same. She raises her hand slowly ignoring the sword that is pressing lightly against her chin ad cups the man’s chin. No thrill runs through her, but it’s to be expected—she’s never felt thrill with men, only thrill at the strings she pulls to manipulate them.

She bats the sword away and it clatters harmlessly to the ground. She runs a hand over the man’s shoulders, letting her nails rake across his armor. “There are other ways of persuasion—if you wish to save your men from the fire … tell me, are you willing to burn?”

His brown eyes widen as he processes the heavy-handed hint. She knows exactly what will happen—he’ll give in, delighted to bed a Goddess and before she leads him up to her bedroom, the guards that are patiently waiting in the next hallway will help her dispose of him.

It takes him a second longer than she expects and then he does the only thing she’s not prepared for. He takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I—I can’t. I don’t want to.” His eyes widen. “I don’t mean any disrespect.” He bows his head low. “I just—I have a love waiting for me. My wife is my everything and I can’t betray her trust. I won’t, even though I haven’t seen her in ten long years.” His eyes are full of tears now, his eyes far away in a look she knows well. “I miss my Glimmer more than words can say, and now the God of Tides is after me—I have no idea how I’ll return home. But Catra, I beg your mercy now so that I may find a way home after.”

Catra feels her heart soften at this man’s plea. She knows better than anyone the all-consuming sadness that comes from being separated from one’s wife. There’s no return for her, but perhaps this man’s suffering is pointless. “Poseidon, eh?” A thought occurs to her—if this is someone Athena favored, he might be crafty enough to do what no human has done before. “There might be a way to evade him, but this journey would be much more dangerous than travel by sea and river.”

His brown eyes widen. “What is it?”

“I know a brilliant prophet … the problem is the prophet is dead. But I’ll release your men and send you to the Underworld to meet him. He could be your only hope to return home.”

He blinks rapidly, his hand moving to cover his mouth. “Wait, you—you’re helping us?”

She sighs. “I know what it is to be in love and be separated from that love.” Catra looks away, hating the vulnerable feeling that creeps up on her in front of this stranger. “And someone once told me that kindness begets kindness—perhaps this will bring goodness to my life.”

“What was the name of your love?” He asks in a reverent whisper.

She thinks about denying him this piece of her, but it seems pointless now. “My wife, Adora.” It’s been so long since she allowed herself to say her name aloud. She shakes her head putting her hands on Bow’s shoulders. “You must move quickly, and you mustn’t speak to anyone. In the Underworld, the past is never far behind. No matter who you see you must continue forward. Do you understand?”

A determined look crosses his face. “Yes, yes. Thank you, Catra.”

“Think nothing of it. Just get home to your wife.”  

Adora, She-ra and Daughter of Athena: the Underworld, Thirty Years Ago

Dying is a different experience than Adora expects. The pain from the poison is indescribable, but the look across Catra’s face honestly might have been worse. But once Catra lets go it feels like walking up from a strange dream although now she’s cold.

She doesn’t remember the journey to the Underworld, only that it’s a peaceful one. Intuitively she knows that it’s Hades that is before her. Adora looks down at her hands and she can see through them. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Hades watches as Adora peruses her new form. “You know your mother can’t save you from this.” He warns lowly.

She’s honestly surprised that Hades knows about her—many of the Gods don’t care for adopted children and Athena is famously unmarred by the pleasures of the flesh. “She wouldn’t come for me.”

To her shock, Hades lets out a chuckle. “You’d be surprised. Athena doesn’t wish to be sentimental but at times she can’t help it.” He sighs. “I do expect to garner some trouble from your wife.”

Adora sucks in a deep breath. “Catra?”

He nods. “She also can’t do anything to save you. I suspect she’ll try but you know as well as I that her powers have limits.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He gives her a half smile. “Call it a common curtesy. It isn’t often I welcome a demigod into the Underworld.”

“Is there a way? To go back?” Adora bites her lip. “I’d do anything.”

He looks at her. “The rules are what they are. I can’t bend them.” Something crosses his face, and it makes Adora’s non-existent gut clench.

“But? I can feel there’s something else.” If there’s even a possibility that she can make it back to Catra, she has to try.

He gives her an irritated stare. “Technically, if someone—a mortal—trusted you enough to show you an act of kindness then you could leave. Potentially. It’s never been done before.”

“Why hasn’t it been done before?”

“For one, a mortal has never successfully made it to the Underworld and back. Means very few attempt the journey—it could be hundreds of years before you even encounter a human.” He sighs. “For another—you need something of value to sacrifice, and most souls don’t have anything left once they’re here.”

“But I do, right? I’m She-ra.” Even now she can tell that the strength that’s been bestowed upon her, the strength of She-ra, hasn’t left her soul.

He nods. “You do.” He confirms softly. “I know what you’re thinking, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Why not?” She demands.

“Hope is worse than anything else in the Underworld. The chances are near zero that everything that needs to be done for you to return to the mortal plane will occur. And if it does—you’ll be a mortal. What will happen when you return to your home with a mortal lifespan? Is that something you’ll put your wife through?”

The tail end of Hades’ questions makes her pause. She tries her best to think about what she would want if she was Catra. “I think … it would still be worth it. At the very least I return—if Catra is carrying any guilt at the way I died, she can be absolved of that. And we can have more time together.”

Adora knows that she’d give up everything for another moment with Catra. Perhaps she’s being selfish, but she likes to think that this is what Catra would want.

He shakes his head. “If you want to make this arrangement, I won’t stop you—but I won’t be able to lighten the burden of hope for however long you carry it. Possibly an eternity.”

“I understand. It would be worth it, for Catra.”

He lets out another short laugh. “The mortals and the demigods—you’re so amusing when you’re in love.”

“Perhaps you’ll experience it one day. See what the fuss is about.” She knows others think that the strength of her affection comes from her mortal side, but she knows that’s wrong. She knows Gods can love just as forcefully, because she knows the way that Catra loves her.

He rolls his eyes. “I doubt it.” He offers his hand out. “Well then, She-ra?”

She doesn’t hesitate, gripping his palm and wincing at the burn that runs through her arm.

Bow, King of Ithaca: the Underworld, Present

“We have our instructions from Catra. Full speed ahead until we find the prophet.” Bow yells over his ship. His men are glancing from side to side at the dead souls in the River of Styx and he can’t really blame them. It’s a haunting sight no mortal eyes should bear witness to. “Hold steady men!”

He tries to avoid the fear that pierces his mind, the guilt at potentially facing the men who have died because of his doing. He keeps his thoughts on Glimmer and his child, the one he’s dying to meet. The ones that have been waiting for him to get home for a decade. He can’t have room for anything or anyone else.

"King of Ithaca! Mercy!" He hears the yell, but he tries his best to ignore it. It's not a voice he recognizes, and he feels a modicum of relief at that, although he's sure that's short sighted. "Please! In the name of Athena herself, heed me!"

His head snaps to the side at the sound of his former mentor's name. The soul looks different from the others and is almost at the river's bank. There's a sheen to her that the others done have.

Bow bites his lip. "How do you know me?"

She wades closer to the ship, deeper into the waters of the River of Styx. "You mean the man who ended the Trojan war? Who was clever enough to invent a stratagem the Trojans never anticipated? Athena's protege?"

"Not any longer." He blurts out. "Athena's protege, I mean."

The soul looks taken aback, something akin to fear crossing her face. "A shame that. She quite liked you." She bites her lip, her hand touching the rough wood of the boat. "I only ask for your mercy, something that won't cost you anything but will very well give me my life back."

 "What do you want?"

She reaches her arm up. "Just to touch your hand."

Bow shakes his head. Whatever this is, it's a farce. "I'm not letting a dead soul drag me into the river of Styx. Good try though."

She shakes her head desperately. "I swear that's not my intention. If you still hold any good will toward my mother, please reconsider."

"Athena is your mother?" His brow knits together. "She doesn't have children."

"I'm an adopted child. She made me a demigod through a magical sword—it doesn't matter." She shakes her head, looking up at him. "I just wish to go home to my wife. Surely, you understand that?"

He feels a pang of sympathy, but he steels his heart against it. "I'm trying to return to my wife and all I've encountered is strife. The Goddess who helped me here warned me not to stop for anyone and I've already strayed too far."

He moves away from the edge side of the ship, ignoring the way the soul slams her fists on the side of it.

"You had help to get here! Kindness begets kindness, King. Please, I wish to see my Catra again."

For a second time Bow allows his shock to sway him, turning back to the soul below. "What did you say your name was?"

Her face twists with sadness. "I am Adora, She-ra and wielder of the sword of protection. You might know it as the scythe of Cronus or sickle of Zeus." She shakes her head, blue eyes looking like she would cry if she had tears. "But more importantly, I am a woman in love with an immortal goddess who I will never find in this river. We're doomed to be apart forever unless you decide to take my damn hand."

"You're Catra's Adora." He mumbles mostly to himself. What are the odds that he would find the long-lost love of the woman who ultimately gave him a lending hand when he needed one. "Your wife, is she the Queen of the Nymphs?"

"She is." Adora's eyes widen. "Have you seen Catra? Do you know her? How is she?"

Bow turns to Sea Hawk. "Get me a rope." He orders before he can think too much about what he’s about to do. Within a moment he has a rope tied around his waist and he hands the end to his second in command. "Don't let me fall."

He shakes his head, a determined look on his face. "Never, captain."

Bow gets to the edge of the boat again letting his body fold over the side. He reaches his hand down as far as he can. "Why don't you go find out how she is yourself, She-ra?"

She watches the soul's transparent eyes widen in disbelief before she reaches up and their palms press together. Bow has no idea what else he has to do. It's an odd session, her touch cold and not quite solid beneath his. Slowly, it feels more substantive, and he watches in fascination as she takes on a corporal form.

Blood pinks her cheeks and her chest rattles, a sharp exhale leaving her lips as she looks up in shared disbelief. Then, her eyes glow an intense blue and her whole body glows gold. It doesn't last all that long—a moment later, the glow vanishes, leaking into the river itself.

There are tears in Adora's eyes and a smile so wide it might tear her face apart. "Thank you." She whispers before a bright white light envelops her, and then she's gone, as if she was never there.

Bow stares at the spot for a moment longer. He hears a haunting call that chills his very bones. “Captain! Captain!”

The calls are familiar, but they aren’t from his crew. He looks out at the souls of the men Poseidon drowned under his command. He takes a deep breath, biting his lip.

“Full speed ahead!”

Bow is going to find the prophet and he’s going to return to Glimmer, his child, his home. Even if it’s the last thing he does.

Catra, Enchantress and Queen of the Nymphs: Island of Aeaea, Present

"Your highness, there's another ship."

Catra shakes her head with a groan. "Another one? It's only been two days." She's still unsure if she made the right decision helping the King of Ithaca, but she does feel a sense of peace that she did. Perhaps, that's enough.

Her guard shrugs, clearly not having a better idea as to why this is happening than Catra. “It’s smaller than the last—really a dinghy.”

Her brow knits together at that. “A vessel that small can’t make it in the rough seas that lie just past Aeaea.”

“And yet, it’s here.” The guard points out unhelpfully.

“Alright. Tell the nymphs to hide. If someone made it in such a small vessel, we have to assume they are powerful or have the protection of a greater God.”

Within fifteen minutes of the reported vessel sighting, there’s a knock at the palace door although it is very cheerful. She ignores her confusion at that and just makes her way to open the door, armed with her spells and potions in case she needs them.

Before she can touch the door frame, there appears a singular traveler, and she can hardly make out any details, just that they are wearing a heavy cloak that makes no sense for the balmy weather they are having here on the island. The hood falls heavy over the traveler's eyes as they come through the door. Catra freezes—the door is warded with magic so those who don't belong cannot open it.

"Who are you?" She demands to know.

She hears a familiar laugh. "Have you already forgotten me?"

Catra stares and moves forward quickly, her heart pounding with uncertainty and wild fluttering hope. She pulls down the traveler’s hood and it's Adora. Catra’s eyes fill with tears and her jaw drops as she stares.

"You're—You're dead." She stutters.

Adora shakes her head, excited blue eyes glued on Catra. "Not any longer." She takes a step forward reaching her hand out. "I'm very much alive."

Catra doesn't dare take it. She doesn't know what she will do if she gets her hopes up and this isn't real. "How?"

"I made a deal with Hades. Should someone make it to the Underworld and bestow an act of kindness upon me, I could come back." She recites quickly.

"That's it?"

She reaches back to touch her neck, the way she does when she’s nervous. "Well, not exactly." She hedges.

"What else is there?" Catra has never felt desperation like this in her bones. She wishes Adora could just snap all of the information into her mind so that she could get rid of this uncertainty.

"I'm no longer She-ra. I had to sacrifice something of value."

Catra huffs a breath and looks at her. "So, you're fully human now?" She does look a little different if Catra really stares at her, but she doesn’t care.

"Yes. Although I’m obviously much older, my physical body is now about twenty-five, so we have some time together. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Catra marches forward until she’s toe-to-toe with Adora. “If you think I’m going to let you die again, you must be stupid.” There’s no chance she’s ever letting Adora go, and she doesn’t care what laws of nature, or men, or Gods she has to break to make it so.

Adora lets out an amused laugh, her smile wide and tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “Perhaps we can worry about me dying again after we celebrate me coming back to life?” She suggests breathlessly.

The light question is so Adora—to reel Catra in when she’s let her emotions get the best of her, to ground Catra while not making light of her concern—that it makes her collapse into Adora’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

She holds her tightly, so tight she’s not sure Adora can breathe but she doesn’t seem to mind, running a soft soothing hand across Catra’s back. “It’s okay. I have you. I’m not going anywhere.” She promises. Catra can hardly make words with the strength of her cries but it’s cathartic. Adora smells the same, she holds her the same, and Catra couldn’t be happier to have her again. "You made my task most difficult by advising the King that he shouldn't speak to anyone he encountered, you know."

Catra sniffles before looking up at Adora. “The King of Ithaca rescued you?” She blinks and shakes her head. "I'm so glad he didn't listen to me then."

Catra never could imagine that her kindness would be repaid with her heart’s most fervent wish, a thing that seemed impossible. She hopes that the man finds the same solace with his wife.

“Do you want to go to the treetop before the sun goes down?” Something akin to guilt crosses Adora’s face at Catra’s confused expression. “I promised you we would go … before I died.”

Catra shakes her head. “I hardly remembered that. I just care that you’re here.” She takes a deep breath. “I think—we have a feast tonight to celebrate. And then we go to the treetops tomorrow.” Catra looks up at her with a hard stare, although it’s marred by the smile on her face. “There will be tomorrow this time?”

Adora nods her head, placing a sound kiss on her lips. “There will be tomorrow, and it will be bright.”

Catra gives into her impulse and crushes Adora to her chest, placing kisses wherever she can manage. “Then, tomorrow love.” She kisses Adora’s lips and they taste like promise.