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Chapter Text

Catra's Rooms

Halfmoon Castle

Halfmoon

Subtheria

Just over one year after Catra's abduction

Catra woke early on her seventeenth birthday. Not by choice. Melog woke her because Kesi had already arrived for the day. She had an itinerary for Catra. Which was somehow different than a schedule or an agenda.

Catra was just crawling out from under her bed when Kesi poked her head in the door. Catra had gotten used to seeing Kesi in her personalized uniform. Shimmering black silk wrapped around her chest in an x, leaving most of her torso and back bare, and low, flowing black pants with slits cut into the legs. Her copper sash, cuffs, and indorium torc marked her rank and station, but otherwise she was the poster girl for cave culture fashion.

It suited her a lot better than the standard castle uniforms did, and Catra enjoyed the spluttering rage it still induced in the traditionalists.

"Good morning! Happy birthday!"

Catra grunted as she slid out from under her bed and stood. Birthday or not, the first few minutes of her routine would not be interrupted, or she could not be held responsible for biting someone.

She had given up convincing Kesi not to say 'good morning.' Mornings weren't good. They were necessary and absolute, but Catra still hated them. Afternoon was a much more reasonable time to start the day. But Kesi was a morning person and thought saying 'good morning' invoked hope for the morning somehow turning out good.

Catra wasn't sure if it worked or not. She usually wasn't coherent or functional until morning was half over.

She stretched, slowly, going up on her toes, working every muscle she could before she shook herself out and settled. Melog, half their full size, twined around her legs, their spectral, echoing purr rumbling around her.

"Honest question. Is there a specific way I should respond to that? I get the feeling everyone is going to be saying it to me today, and I still barely understand how birthdays work."

Kesi sighed but smiled. After nearly a year of being Catra's Seneschal, she was used to those questions, though sometimes, Catra's questions made Kesi look very sad. Catra got the feeling Kesi was trying very hard not to look sad at this one.

"You say 'thank you,' - it's a traditional wish for your birthday to be a good day. Most of the time, people hope and plan for their birthdays to be the best day of the year. They get presents - gifts. Indulge in food, time with friends and family. Have a party celebrating them."

Right. I forgot.

Halfmoon was having a party. For her.

It made no sense at all. Catra wasn't completely clear on what a party was yet. She'd been to gatherings. She'd been to receptions. She'd (reluctantly) gone to a gala. She had been to celebrations. She had witnessed and (sort of) participated in a few holidays. But this was the first event (she knew of) defined specifically as a party.

According to Cloudfoot, all of the other events she had gone to were parties. They were specific sub-types of a party. None of which helped her understand the concept of what she would be participating in that evening. She had not been involved in the planning of her own party. She had been informed asking her to participate in planning her own birthday party would be tactless and gauche. (Definition pending on 'gauche.' Cloudfoot said Percival could explain, but Catra would likely end up just asking Kesi.)

Not having to plan the event was a definite benefit of it being her birthday, but she was still somewhat confused about the concept of birthdays in general, at least the way they were treated by Halfmoon.

In the Horde, it was simple: when you were found and integrated into the Horde, usually into the creche where children too young to be cadets were raised, your biological age was determined by either known data or by medical testing. That age was assigned to you, and upon spending a year in the Horde, your age went up by one. Not as precise as using the specific day of one's birth, but useful for medical and advancement purposes. At about a decade old, a crecheling became a cadet and eventually cadets became specialized on a track - command, tech, support, medical, etc - or entered enlisted service. Usually in their mid to late teens. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, depending on the skills and advancement of the cadet in question.

Numbers didn't matter. Skill mattered. Development mattered.

Birthdays in Halfmoon were more complicated. Confusing. Involved. Important.

Numbers mattered. Specifically, the number 'eighteen' meant you became a 'legal adult' and were allowed to do things like get married, vote in elections, and fight the Horde. She was celebrating being a year away from having permission to - what?

She'd already fought the Horde, and didn't imagine she wouldn't have to fight them again. She wasn't allowed to vote, because she was a member of the royal family, and she wasn't ever getting married.

Was she celebrating surviving another year? According to her mother, she'd turned sixteen a couple of weeks before being abducted and taken to Halfmoon. She'd spent most of that anniversary grumpy and missing Adora. A lot.

She'd spent most of it away from other people, but she'd found time to remind Akrash she still hated him a little. He seemed to understand.

Birthdays didn't make much sense. Then again, the Horde made little sense to everyone she knew in Halfmoon.

"Hopefully, the events of today will show you what a birthday is and why they're important. Or, at least, that they can be really good days!"

Catra shrugged, her ears flicking to the side. She really wasn't sure how to respond.

"Come on. Breakfast is almost ready to be sent up, and I've made you something special."

Melog tugged on her tank top, and Catra nodded, yawning. Food. She could eat. She wasn't ready for real clothes, anyway. She was up three hours earlier than normal, which was a travesty against her person, but she knew no one would agree with her.

The only reason waking up early had ever been palatable had been Adora.

Fires below, I miss Adora. Adora wouldn't have understood birthdays any more than Catra, but Adora would have been infected by the excitement. She would have made Catra admit to at least curiosity, and a faint hope Kesi was right - today would be good. She needed a good day.

She stepped over the small, round, disc-shaped cleaning bot that had adopted her - or at least moved into her rooms. She swore it was the same one she'd seen around when she'd first arrived in Halfmoon - she'd seen it in one of the back halls while stalking through the castle.

It had a knife bolted on.

It was decent at cleaning and had unerring aim with its knife. Right to the ankles of people she wanted to leave her rooms. As far as Catra was concerned, it had earned its right to stay.

She shambled into her dining nook and sat down on what served as a chair - it had been an 'ottoman' in her sitting room, but Catra had long since repurposed it as a place to sit. Melog shrank down and jumped into her lap, making a contented sound.

Kesi smiled at Melog, practicality vibrating, but didn't squeal or shout out about how cute they were. She had learned Catra didn't react well to loud, sudden noises in the morning and Melog didn't always want to be called cute.

Whatever Kesi was already making smelled amazing - the scents of apple and cinnamon wafted through the room and Catra felt herself wake up a bit more.

Kesi turned to the stove and - shielding what she was doing from Catra's bleary gaze - began pouring things into a mug.

"So, one of the traditions for birthdays is getting a gift from each of your friends and family. In your case, you'll get a lot of gifts from people you don't know because you're the princess, and it's expected."

Catra slumped and sighed again. Great. More stuff I don't need or want.

Various nobles and businesses and leaders in Halfmoon had sent her gifts for defeating the Baron. For her Coronation. Now for her birthday? How much stuff did people think she needed?

She now had a staggering (to her) collection of jewelry, clothes she would never wear, pieces of art she didn't care about, and ceremonial accessories that made no sense to her. Kesi had sorted most of it out. The art Catra liked (and some of it she really liked) and the jewelry she liked were in her rooms. The art she didn't hate or tolerated was in her office. The stuff she didn't like had gone on display in various places in the castle or in the city where Catra had been involved in some event or another.

The jewelry, clothes and other ceremonial pieces she didn't want were gifted to people. Catra's guards, various members of the cave culture who had worked with Catra on civic projects (of which Catra had many) or were simply put into storage for other princesses and royals to use when or if they needed.

(Catra's ever growing to-do list had an item that kept getting migrated - which was go to with Kesi to that storage area and pick out what she might want of what was there. She was curious, but she never seemed to have time for it. It was right there next to the question about how Halfmoon had wood to make things out of. Both items lived in the notebook she'd stolen from her mother's study.)

"In the cave culture, we're odd about gifts. Sometimes, we give things - but they aren't just things. They have meaning. Something handmade or custom or very special. We often do something for our friends they would appreciate, even if it wouldn't make sense to anyone else. So I sort of combined the two."

Kesi turned around, holding a large mug - one Catra hadn't seen before. It was amber glass with a thick clay bottom lined in copper. The Dr'iluth crest was set into the side of the mug in copper, and the handle itself was dusted in copper and looked like a flame.

Her tail was wrapped around her wrist - she was nervous. Anxious. This was important to her. Catra struggled to wake up a bit, pay more attention. Kesi wasn't just her steward - she was a good friend who had made her adjustment to being a princess a lot easier than it could be, and kept Catra from having to deal with a lot of the day-to-day of having a staff of her own.

Catra was pretty sure she took on a lot more than her job description called for to keep Catra from having a nervous breakdown.

"One of the guys you met at your Coronation made this for you. He lost his parents in the riot the night of the coup and you talking with him during your vigil meant a lot to him. The materials were all donated, and other crafters helped - the copper inlays and the clay and so forth. What's in it is my gift to you. I know her majesty loves tea and others drink a lot of tisane, but you don't have a hot drink to sit and share with them."

Catra tilted her head. It was true; she often had trouble knowing what to drink with others, considering she could barely tolerate her mother's tea and couldn't choke down most tisanes.

It was also true Catra had a deep respect for and mutually supportive relationship with the cave culture. Over half her civic projects came from things they suggested, and a lot of her workers - paid or volunteer - started out from the cave culture. After almost a year as the crown princess, Catra had managed to get others involved, but a huge part of what Akrash and Kittrina called 'her base' was cave culture and other sub-cultures. (She was also loved by the builders and laborers of the city after they saw her actually doing the physical labor for her projects. The craft and skilled trade guilds loved her for the work her projects generated. Akrash and Kittrina said it made her politically terrifying to her opponents.)

Kesi sharing these small bits of cave culture with her were normal - though she had come to realize most people not involved in the culture never learned about them.

"This is cinnamon apple cider, boiled with extra cinnamon sticks. I've added a bit of honey and some heavy cream - you're one of the very few who can drink it, and I thought…anyway, I thought it might be a nice drink for those times…"

Catra smiled. "It smells delicious. I can't wait to try it. Thank you, Kesi. That's a genius idea."

And even if honey was rare and expensive - not something she could add all the time - heavy cream was easy to get.

Kesi handed Catra the mug. It was heavy and solid enough she wasn't worried she might break it, like her mother's teacups. (The teacups were works of art and Catra thought they were beautiful - and she knew it was special that her mother let her use them when she tried tea. She just doubted her own ability not to break them!)

She took it and let the vapor drift over her nose, and she smiled. The warmth of the apple cider, the sharpness of the cinnamon, the sweet honey and the heavy cream all blended together well.

She took a careful sip and flavor burst on her tongue. The cream eased the tang of the apple, leaving just the crisp sweetness and the cinnamon, while the honey's sweetness emphasized the flavors.

"Oh. Oh wow. That's amazing. That's perfect." She cradled the mug close. "Thank you, Kesi. It's a wonderful gift, and one that will be used often. The mug is beautiful, too."

Kesi bounced on her toes. "Oh, I'm so glad! You're welcome - and happy birthday! Now, Tathlan's bakery has sent over cinnamon rolls for your birthday and they should be sent up momentarily, along with some of the beef, potato, and egg mix you like so much. But I got the cooks to add some of the sharp cheese you like so much to it. And, baked cinnamon apples to finish it off."

Catra blinked. Her usual breakfast was a bowl of the spicy beef, eggs and potatoes eaten between meetings. Her birthday breakfast sounded absolutely decadent.

"Tathlan's cinnamon rolls. I almost never get to have those; I'm never down in the city early enough and he sells out fast. Wow. Birthday food, I take it?"

Kesi rolled her eyes at Catra's face. "Yes. But you do realize if you want Tathlan's baked goods, you can tell me and I can order them and have them delivered to the castle? Not only would it make Tathlan the happiest baker in the city - he and his niece love baking for you - but it would be a perfectly reasonable thing? Bakeries, butchers, farmers - they all deliver to places all over the city. Your mother orders from places all the time. You're allowed."

"Yeah. I know. But that's extra money spent on me for something I might not have time to eat and I hate wasting money or food. We buy a lot of food for the castle already, and it's good. Buying cinnamon rolls from Tathlan every week would just be an indulgence for no other reason than I want them."

Catra had finally found foods she could eat reliably and enjoyed - she still wasn't always comfortable eating in front of people unless it was a food she was practiced with, and she was still wary of new foods. Even after a year, her system sometimes reacted to new foods with violence and digestive distress.

The castle kitchens served meals to order to anyone who wanted them, but also had a rotating menu for every meal, quick and easy food that could be made up or easily sent to staff, nobles, or the royal family. There were also several cafes, two large mess halls they called cafeterias, and two dining halls for nobles, leaders, and those with money and authority. (Though Catra had arranged to pay for any of her staff who wanted to eat there. She figured they deserved it - they were stuck working for her!)

She never went hungry anymore. Busy or not, Kesi was always able to find something for her to eat and had been known to change her schedule or chase people away if Catra hadn't eaten in too long.

As much as she loved Tathlan's baking, she felt like it was self-indulgent to order from him too often. It's not like his business wasn't booming, and other people could buy from him.

There was a chime and the dumbwaiter by the stove slid open. Kesi pulled two breakfast trays from it, shaking her head.

"Catra, sometimes, you still astound me. You and your mother - you're good rulers. Halfmoon is prosperous! We trade with half of Subtheria - the half not interested in wiping us out, anyway. Your finance ministry does a lot of good, hard work, and you're generous with your people. People don't starve in Halfmoon, because you and the Queen don't let them. Everyone is housed. There's always work. People can afford luxuries like Tathlan's baking. You wouldn't be indulging in anything your people can't - or don't. Before I got promoted, I walked past his bakery every morning and more often than not, I stopped to get a sweet roll or a couple of pastries. His berry-filled ones are positively the best thing ever."

She set Catra's tray down and sat down at the other chair with her own tray. Catra had established early on Kesi could - and should - eat with her if she wanted to needed to. The idea Kesi was supposed to stand around and wait on her hand and foot while she could serve her own food or take care of her own dishes was not something she was comfortable with.

Breakfast was the exception, because if Kesi didn't set it down in front of her, Catra might forget to eat.

And Catra noted they had almost the same spread, but Kesi's food had no cheese, and instead of cinnamon rolls, she had the aforementioned berry-filled pastries.

The smell of the spicy beef, potatoes and eggs made her mouth water, and she grabbed her fork and dug in. While utensils still sometimes felt like an extra step, she saw their uses with some dishes.

"And!" Kesi started in on her own food, a mug of her favorite tisane left to cool a bit, "It would make Tathlan happy. Having you order his baked goods on a regular basis would bring him joy, Catra. He and his niece adore you and he was beside himself when we placed your birthday order. And it wouldn't go to waste! I guarantee if you weren't able to eat them, your staff would. Happily. Especially knowing you'd be pleased they weren't going to waste."

Seeing the two pastries on Kesi's tray gave Catra pause. She waved her fork at Kesi. "Fine. If you are sure they won't go to waste, we can order once a week or so. If you order yourself your pastries, too - and maybe some things for our people. Then I'm treating everyone, not just me. You shouldn't have to go without because your job forced you to move into the castle."

Making Tathlan happy wasn't a bad thing. He was an ardent supporter of her mother, and he was a community leader in his little district. He'd been the one to bring word of the traitors trying to build support in the city. Making him feel noticed (because he was noticed) for his craft was no bad thing. He deserved it for everything he did.

"Oh. Woe is me," Kesi put the back of her hand to her forehead. "I had to move into a luxurious castle, live in the nicest rooms I've ever had, and get paid an absurd amount to do a job I honestly love. But thank you, Catra. Despite being set for life moving in here, I do miss berry pastries."

Catra grinned. "Good. And set for life?"

"Catra. When I got promoted, I got rooms here. Unless you fire me, I'll live here for the rest of my life - and any spouse or child I have will live here with me. My retirement is guaranteed, and I am paid really well. Really well. I love my job. I'm never bored, and I am part of helping you take care of Halfmoon. I'm a voice for my culture, a voice that's heard in by a princess! I'm happy - and I can have this for the rest of my life as long as I keep doing it well. I'm not trapped in the family business. I'm - part of things that matter, and that has always been my goal in life. To be someone who helps, who is part of making things better. And I am."

Catra nodded. "Good. That is what I want for the people who work for me and with me. Knowing what we do matters. You telling me that is as good a gift as the cider. It means I'm doing things right."

Kesi smiled. "You are! And speaking of gifts and birthdays - I have your itinerary. There's - a lot, but I think only one thing is going to throw you off, but it's a princess thing, so getting out of it will be hard, if not impossible. We can try if you really want to, but…"

Catra sighed and finished off her beef and potatoes. The cheese had been an excellent addition. "But skipping out would have massive fallout. Fine. I'll endure unless it's something I've already said no about. What do we have?"

Kesi set her tablet up on its stand next to her, scrolling through as she ate. "Your mother wants you to visit her in her study before you go anywhere else today, but then we have the princess thing. You have to meet with the priests and get a tour of the cathedral. It's traditional for every princess - whether they have a faith or not - to get a blessing, usually at their birthday before their Coronation. It's a private thing, only a couple of people. Kittrina, you, me, Akrash, and baby Isha."

Catra made a face. She was aware of the concept of religion. They'd studied it in the Horde as both part of history and as a part of psychological warfare. She knew Halfmoon had priests and her mother occasionally consulted them on specific things, but she was mostly unaware of Halfmoon's religious beliefs. Cloudfoot had told her they were a holdover from an older time, and they had never held as much political sway as they once had in other nations.

"Fine. At least Isha's a cute baby and I won't be alone. I hate for you to have to take time away from your duties for this though. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

Kesi looked down, her tail curling around her wrist again. She mumbled, and tension was written along every line of her body. "I'm going because I'm a member of the congregation and as your witness for the blessing."

Catra looked up. Oh. Kesi was a believer - the religion meant something to her. This was important, and Catra realized she needed to tread carefully here. She didn't want to hurt Kesi with her ignorance.

"Well, in that case, thank you again. I'm glad you'll be there - and I'm glad you're willing to be my witness, whatever that means. I always prefer my people to be a part of these things, especially my friends. I'll admit - I know nothing about Halfmoon religion and I know only some bare historical facts and basics about religion as a general concept. This will be very new to me, and having someone who can help me avoid making a mess of it isn't something I turn down these days."

Kesi brightened again. "I think I was scared you would think less of me for having a faith. It's sometimes divisive, but - well, you'll see why. The priests are going to explain, but I can help, too. Kittrina is going because she hasn't been blessed either and she asked. When I set it up, I figured - well, you not doing it alone would be better?"

Catra nodded, digging into her cinnamon roll. "Yeah. You figured right. And Kittrina is making Akrash come to hold the baby?"

Kesi laughed. "Yes! That, and they have a meeting with Haverisk's expansionists after. My notes say they're going to trade pushing the western mines further out for your building projects in the old sectors of the shore."

Catra sighed. "Fine by me. Gimme your tray. I'll send them down and get dressed." She stood, gathering their dishes.

Kesi grimaced. "About that…your mother said to remind you. No armor today. So, I have a few options picked out?"

Catra grumbled under her breath as she put the trays in the dumbwaiter. "Fine. Come help me pick. I hate it, but it's one day out of the year. I'm not going unarmed, though. Not happening."

The High Temple

Halfmoon

Subtheria

Just over one year after Catra's abduction

Halfmoon took birthdays seriously - at least hers.

Catra deeply regretted listening to her mother and not wearing her armor. She was also glad Kittrina had insisted they take a skiff through the city instead of walking. The other princess was in the backseat of the skiff, her kitten strapped to her chest in a sling. Akrash sat stiffly next to her in his dark pink robes, looking out at the crowd with skepticism. Kesi drove, and Catra's guards were on single-seat skiffs alongside the royal skiff. Other guards, assigned by Askar, flanked them further out to each side and in front and behind the skiff.

It was absurd - far too much attention, time, and resources devoted to just moving her from place to place. Obviously, Kittrina and baby Ishara needed more protection and the ride to the High Temple, but it all felt too much.

Especially not in armor. But Kesi has insisted, because there would be a crowd.

And there was a crowd. People were coming up to the slow-moving skiff, many of them wishing Princess Catra a happy birthday, and many of those were trying to give her gifts. Thankfully, Kesi had thought it through and had two of Catra's personal staff accepting gifts for her and loading them in the cargo area of the skiff.

They would be checked at the castle before being presented to Catra at her party that night, where she would repeat the great feat of her Coronation reception - spending a few hours opening things and feigning excitement.

She was grateful for the generosity of her people, but - she didn't need more things! She had plenty, more than she could ever have imagined. The idea of giving her more was incomprehensible.

She thanked those she could, smiling at everyone, and kept one hand on her staff, currently resting between the seats of the skiff. She felt exposed without her armor.

Kesi had chosen a short maroon and black jacket for her top, leaving her midriff bare, hinting at her known affection for cave culture. Her pants were similar in cut to military trousers, but were a soft silken material that flowed around her legs. Kesi had accented her with plenty of jewelry - her piercings, wide indorium bracelets, a belly chain, and cuffs on her tail.

Kittrina was dressed much the same way, though her jacket didn't close all the way in the front - mostly to let her hold her kitten against her and feed her when she needed to - and her pants were loose and wide. She carried paired short blades, because a staff would be harder to use while carrying Isha. (And the new staff her grandfather had commissioned for her wasn't ready yet.)

The High Temple was on the south-eastern quadrant of Halfmoon, about ten minutes from the castle. Carved into a massive column of stone where a stalagmite and stalactite had met, it was nearly a mile in diameter and had a large, walled courtyard built out in front of it. Like the castle, the courtyard and walls were built of the blue-gray marble ubiquitous to the Halfmoon's massive cavern, but had been chosen for the amount of gold flecks in them - much like the castle.

The massive gates of the walled courtyard stood open, flanked by armored guards, but Catra's altered vision showed her while their armor and weapons were enchanted, the guards lacked magic of their own.

But the High Temple itself was a bright center of magic in the city - almost as bright as the Hall of the Lost Temple. The stone column had been carved into an elegant, sweeping pillar of flame decorated with mystic sigils written in Aiilayra, archaic forms of Etherian, and what she now recognize as ancient Osirian. To her eyes, they glowed with faint silvery light.

The High Temple set on a nexus two major ley lines, with other, smaller lines branching off from them.

As they approached the gates, Catra saw two statues on either side of the gates - similar to the statues guarding the path to the Lost Temple, in that they were winged figures, but these were different. Instead of being statues of Osirian warriors, they were faceless and featureless statues of beings with four or six wings, and each held a globe of amber crystal over their heads - the crystals shimmered, as if flame were trapped forever inside them, flickering and licking the edges of the gems containing them. Unlike the Lost Temple statues, these were only as tall as the gates themselves, and while they still towered over her, they were not as intimidating as the statues below Halfmoon.

The guards skimmed ahead into the courtyard, and the royal skiff followed slower, leaving the crowd behind. Catra let out a low sigh of relief as the massive gates closed behind them.

"I had no idea my birthday would be so important to - everyone." She leaned back in her seat and Melog let themselves appear, nosing her with a murr of discontent. They could feel Catra's worry and anxiety. She ran her fingers through their fur,

Kesi landed the skiff. "I tried to warn you? You matter to them, and they feel connected to you because of how you handled the Baron and your vigil. You're more - present - than they expected. It's a good thing, but it means they all want to celebrate with you."

Catra smiled wanly. "I appreciate the sentiment. I don't really understand what we're celebrating, but everyone seemed happy?"

"You handled it all really well. They are happy, and seeing you going to perform a duty - even one as ceremonial and traditional as this one - means a lot to them. It shows you're investing yourself and immersing yourself in Halfmoon's culture - something folk worried about when they first learned you'd returned."

Catra grabbed her staff, jumped out of the skiff, landing lightly. She waited while Akrash and Kittrina got out. Guards stationed themselves around the skiff, but Kyril and Tigria would follow her all the way to the doors, but they knew they would wait outside.

Catra saw the courtyard was lit by more amber globes, many set on pillars of silvery metal, creating a rippling dapple of flickering light across the courtyard. It was dotted by benches and gazebos and fountains, laid out in a pattern her eye couldn't quite follow.

The whisper of the water from the fountains was a background susurrus, but it was the trees that caught Catra's eye. She'd seen trees in some of the parks around Halfmoon, carefully tended and cultivated with daylight spells and horticultural magics, but they were usually short, young trees. These were the same kind of tree she'd seen around Halfmoon, but they were far older. Rising nearly to the top of the wall, their branches extended out wide, and their twisting, wide trunks and sprawling roots, digging into the soil of their planters, probably reached far below the stone she walked on.

Kesi led the way to the stairs leading up to the temple doors. Atop the stairs was a tall, older magicat woman draped in robes of white and gold silk; her fur was black and orange, with mottled markings across her face and hands. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and intricately braided around her head.

She smiled when she saw Kesi, holding out her hands. Kesi almost ran up the steps and took her hands.

The priestess then pulled Kesi in for a tight hug. "Granddaughter. It does my old heart good to see you well." She pulled back, looking Kesi up and down. "Beautiful. You wear the uniform of service, but do not hide who you are. My beautiful girl, I could not be prouder of you. You have brought all three princesses of Halfmoon, I see?"

"Yes, grandmother. Catra and Princess Kittrina are here for blessings, and Isha - Ishara - is here with her mother. Royal Sorcerer Akrash is here because…"

"Because I made him come." Kittrina shrugged. "My husband is on Eternia and won't return until tonight, so I made my best friend come with me. Mostly so Isha has someone familiar to hold her, if it becomes necessary. She's fussy with new people."

The priestess beckoned them forward. "Come, princesses. I am Kelara, priestess of this temple and Kesi's great-grandmother. Your child may remain with you, if you wish it. No harm will come to her in our temple, but you may wish your friend to hold him during the blessing. It will be your decision. None here argue with a mother about her own child."

Catra blanched. She wasn't quite sure how Kesi and Kelara were related, but she decided not to ask. She knew grandmother was a mother's mother, but what was a great grandmother?

Catra followed, Kittrina and Akrash behind her. As she approached the temple doors, she felt her vision trying to shift on its own; it took a great deal of concentration not to see the magic around her.

It was irritating. Magic shouldn't be trying to push itself into this. She didn't need or want it right then. She knew the High Temple was magical. Her magic sense didn't need to tell her.

They walked down a wide, tall hallway, into the Cathedral itself. She'd read about and seen pictures - but it didn't do the room justice. The ceiling was a half-circle and row after row of curved stone beams carved to look like flames reaching towards each other, inlaid with ruby and red gold. It was almost three hundred feet high and a thousand feet wide - the sheer size of it was astounding. Carved into the ceiling, inlaid with gold and silver, were breathtakingly beautiful symbols Catra had read represented the orders of faith, and told the history of Halfmoon and the magicats. Somehow - but she couldn't read them. Most people couldn't.

Row after row of wood benches lined with red upholstered cushions filled the room, separated only by the angular, soaring columns of white and silver marble reaching high to the ceiling. The altar itself was set into a half dome at the front of the room, framed by two more indorium statues of wings figures holding amber orbs.

Up a series of raised marble steps was a silver pedestal, and upon it, a wide, shallow crystal basin sat, perfectly clear, still water lying within. Behind it was a spring burbling up, steam flowing up from it. Catra knew from her reading that if she looked down into the spring, far below she would see the faint amber glow of hot rock.

Magic pulsed and hummed in room.

Kelara walked up the steps to the basin, coming around to stand behind it.

"Many beings on Etheria are born from Etheria. Many are not. Magicats are one of those who are - and it is the duty of the orders of the High Temple to remember stories and legends and history. To record tradition. To offer guidance of the spirit of the heart to our people. It is we who keep the lore of the imprint, the lore of marriages and adoptions, and the histories of families and clans. While we are associated with the Hall of the Lost Temple and we often teach there, we are older still than they are, and we have our own traditions of magic, steeped in the mystic, shaped by belief as much by arcane science. Ours is not a gentler magic, though many may think it so. I recall - as a child, you, Akrash, studied here for a short time, to become more in tune with the volatile nature of your connection to magic."

Akrash smiled ruefully and bowed slightly. "Before my teenage years, yes. Though I think I was here under false pretenses. Being sent here was more my parents trying to keep me away from Dr. Lenio and my own hopes to apprentice as a healer instead of being a pure sorcerer. But I learned much in my time here - much that has served me well since. Though, I did not find faith, despite your order's best efforts."

Kelara waved her hand, lines of blue and purple light following the gesture. "Do not fear recrimination or retribution from our orders, Akrash. Your parents have cast themselves from the sheltering fires and turned from the balance and the path. They eschewed harmony with the world and thus harmony will forever be lost to them, unless they learn to seek it again. Of course you did not find faith! You did not come looking for it! You came looking for knowledge, which you left with. One thing the Fires Below and the Stars Above taught us is that when you enter a bastion of faith, you will find what you seek - even if you do not know you seek it. Now, Princess Catra. Princess Kittrina. To my knowledge, neither of you believe in any doctrine or faith, nor do you come from Halfmoon. So I will teach, I will guide, and I will offer the blessings. They will be witnessed by Kesi of the Celestial Promise, my own great-granddaughter. She will speak the oath of witness, and none shall know what passes between us, only that you have been blessed. But it is thus that I will ask you both twice. Once now, and once when you are blessed - though you should only answer when you are blessed. What do you seek in our temple?"

Catra felt a shiver run down her spine, and next to her, Kittrina hugged Isha to her. The magic grew in intensity, the hum growing louder as it vibrated under her fur, against her skin.

The princesses looked at each other. They weren't close, for all that they worked closely together. But they knew each other, and in the moment, they were the same - both lost and confused.

The flickering light of the amber fire globes was all the light around them as they stood before the priestess as her altar.

Kelara raised her hands and purple light gathered around them. "So it was at the beginning that our people roamed the world. Our clans and our tribes ran the great old forests. We learned the subtle magics of the land, the bright magics of fire, and we knew the secrets the stars told. We sought harmony with the world around us, and thus our faith in the balance was born. The balance of us against the world. That we must grow as the world grows. We must stand against that which harms the world and we must bend before the changes wrought to it. It is seeking that harmony that caused us to move to the first city of Halfmoon, and even as Carnivus sought to conquer, our people knew the balance and sought harmony, thus causing us to become what we are today. This first path of our faith is represented by the rivers of the land that once sustained us and fed the great forests we tended. The priests of the Rising Tree teach of us harmony. They guide us to balance, and they advise us when we must stand against the coming storm."

She lowered her hand into the basin and the clear water burned with the purple light - the water changed, taking on an iridescence. As the purple light faded from her hand, she withdrew it from water - completely dry.

"The Osirians came to our people. They whispered secrets of the past to us, shared with us writings and stories and knowledge they did not want forgotten. They came to us not because we are the wisest. Not because we are the mightiest. Or the closest to the world. They came to us because are a people who feel deeply; who have been touched by magic, imbued with it, and because we are people who would listen. They told us of the beginning, when the gods planted the Starseed that gave life to Etheria and Eternia. They told us the myth of a place at the heart of Etheria, the balance point of the world, where magic rests and gathers; from which magic flows and to which magic returns, again and again in a tide of life and death, light and dark. All things begin and end in the balance point, and the Heart beats with the magic of Etheria, much as the Great Eye waits upon Eternia. Our people kept this knowledge and more, and learned of the Fires Below - the ebb and flow of magic. The ebb and flow of Etheria. It thus the Torchbearers were born, to hold the secrets of the past, the memories of magic, and to guide our people to wield power with wisdom. This path is mine. Princesses must wield power with wisdom, and the Fires Below grant me understanding of your hearts - so I may bless you for the path you must walk."

She raised her hands over her head and ball of golden light grew between them; it hung in the air, soft light spilling out over them, the magic warm and gentle, washing over them like a warm breeze on a cool morning.

"The Osirians gave our people much, including this place under the world. In this place the Hall of the Lost Temple was founded to protect and share knowledge and our people became learned, even as Mystacor rose far from us as a place of arcane learning for the great kingdoms born to protect and watch over Etheria. Faith had a deeply important place in our people as they sought harmony and balance, tended the great trees, and built a place for ourselves in the world."

She lowered her arms and the ball of light stayed there. From under the pedestal, she drew out tiny glass phials and lined them up in the air, where they hung, suspended by magic Catra's eyes forced her to see - the shape of the magic was different than the arcane runes she was used to, but made no less sense to her.

"Then the First Ones came and broke the harmony and balance of the world, but we learned much from them. All peoples of Etheria and Eternia did, though we paid for the knowledge with suffering and darkness. It is a quaint conceit the First Ones held that they were the ones who connected the two worlds, but they were already connected by the Fires Below, and the most learned of the Osirans and faiths of Etheria could travel there on the rivers of magic. Our mystic arts let us travel between worlds with ease, though those ways are now closed to us. During this era, when the First Ones brought their wars to Etheria, our people burned brightest. Again and again, in every age of the thousand years the First Ones stood upon Etheria, there was a She-Ra. A warrior chosen by Etheria to protect her people. It is said the Stars Above whispered to the Fires Below they had seen one worthy, and to her a mantle of power would be granted. Blazing sword in hand, wearing armor of white and gold, she would stride forth into the world and do terrible battle with darkness and restore light where shadows fell. And in that thousand years, where She-Ra walked, there would always be those of our people who followed. Legends we do not know the truth of speak of great loves. Of epic battles. Of feats we can scarce imagine - but for a thousand years, where She-Ra walked, there was always a magicat walking with her. Until the First Ones chose to blaspheme against the Fires Below and the Stars Above. Until the First Ones stole the mantle of She-Ra from Etheria and bestowed it upon one of their own, binding the power to them with rites of warped technology and awful magics."

She poured one of the phials into the water, waving her hand over it in a circle, purple light painting runes and sigils across it, infusing it with magic.

"It was this sin that broke the First Ones. Their Empire crumbled under the weight of their hubris even as their enemies burned under their baleful gaze, cursed by the power they had stolen. But it is from the Fires Below and the Stars Above the mantle of She-Ra is given, and the one they burdened with their heretical might had a mighty heart that beat for the world she served. In desperation to save our peoples, the last She-Ra stood alone against the might of empires. Against the crushing weight of false destiny and the betrayals of her own people. With every art and power she had, she commanded the universe: protect what is mine. The tears her heart cried, the sadness of her lonely soul, and the truth of her purpose were enough. Magic heard her plea, and Etheria and Eternia were hidden from the dark eyes that had fallen upon it. The last She-Ra traded her life - the immortality of a First One - so our worlds could live. The last, alone of all those called She-Ra, did not have one of our kind at her side. And thus, the line of She-Ra was broken. Thus, the Stars Above could no longer see. For a thousand years, our skies are lit with naught but the twelve moons. No more stars to guide our way or whisper of hope. But all things that are lost will be found. All things that live shall die. All things in the world and of it are cyclical - eternal and forever unbroken. Not even the First Ones had the arts to so change the nature of existence. Those who follow the Celestial Promise know the world waits for the stars to return. The world waits for her champion to return, a bearer of celestial light - and they guide us in preparing the way, of building and creating a world worthy of the sacrifices given for it. This is the Celestial Promise to which Kesi has bound herself."

More phials filled the basin. Kelara looked up at the ceiling and her eyes filled with golden light. Her voice became echoing and spectral. Catra felt her fur stand on end and heard the magic pulse like a heartbeat around her.

"We seek harmony and balance in the world, to become part of the world wherever we must walk; to root in it wherever we must stand. We hold knowledge to us and we remember - power cannot aid a people without wisdom and power without purpose is a curse. And we know the future is yet unwritten; destiny and prophecy lie and fear cannot know, only warn. Hope remains eternal, for we can create what comes."

She looked down and the water in the basin was now golden and glowing.

Kelara let out a slow breath. "It is thus the three faiths stand together and are here for those who need us. We don the white and gold to honor She-Ra, and we stand for Halfmoon as keepers of that which might be forgotten. Not all people need or want faith, but without it, those who need it might be lost to the dark. While once, the religious orders held great sway, now we do not - and thus it should be, for while faiths should support the people, faiths should not rule or try to whisper in the ears of leaders who do not ask. Though, the queen who took the throne after Carnivus was forced to step aside came to the faiths for guidance and she was given the blessings of both us and the Osirians. While we hope Osirians may yet live across the seas, we cannot know - but we offer the blessings to all those of the nobility. There is no wrong answer, but we ask you speak true. What do you seek in our temple?"

Catra knew - Kelara was a master orator and her magic made her legends and her myths more potent while she was speaking. She knew what she'd just learned mattered, in terms of those like Kesi, who had a faith. She knew it mattered in terms of Halfmoon's history and culture.

Even if something about the mention of 'She-Ra' had sent a chill down her spine. Thinking of a warrior chosen for their innate self-sacrifice and willingness to fight for the good of everyone, no matter who they were, made her think of Adora.

This meant something to her people, and she had to give it - and Kelara - the respect she deserved.

She also knew she wanted to give the priestess a real answer. Something honest.

"I came here because my people asked me to. I don't follow every tradition or present myself as they might expect a princess to present herself. I do things my own way, and I do what I know to be right. I'm doing this to show my people I can still respect tradition when it doesn't require me to change who and what I am. Who each person is should be respected. What they choose to be or know themselves to be should be respected. But I don't want to cast off all tradition - I want to show tradition still has a place. Even if it's not the place some want it to be."

Kelara gave a small bow and turned to Kittrina, who was handing off Isha to Akrash. The infant fussed, mewling and waving her arms and legs around as the warmth of her mother vanished. Akrash quickly settled her against his chest, holding her to him with gentleness and care.

"I'm not from Halfmoon. I'm from Qadia, on Eternia. My ancestors came from Halfmoon, but - well, I want to show the people I am one of them. I want Halfmoon to be my home. I want take part in Etherian traditions, magicat ways - and this is a way I can."

Kittrina's voice was soft. Quiet. There was pain there. Old, hidden pain. There was a hint of desperation, a hint of naked want. Catra understood now as much as she had at her Coronation. Wanting a new home when the old one hurt you was something she knew.

The priestess stepped around to stand beside the pedestal and dipped two fingers in the water. She reached over and ran her two fingers down Kittrina's forehead, between her eyes. A streak of iridescent gold was painted on her face, gleaming in the soft light of the priestess' spell.

"You are blessed of Etheria, and you are a daughter of Halfmoon, Princess Kittrina. Halfmoon is for all magicats, no matter where they were born or how they come to us. May you serve with wisdom; may you speak with grace, and may your heart always be for your people."

She turned, dipping her fingers into the water again. She faced Catra, and Catra steeled herself - she would eventually get used to people touching her all the time, but she wasn't there yet.

The priestess ran her fingers down Catra's forehead, and the water felt warm as it painted the gold stripe on her face.

"You are blessed of Etheria, and you have returned to Halfmoon strong and unbroken, Princess Catra. You see what we cannot and you know what lurks in the world above. May you serve with determination; may you speak so we can hear, and may your heart find the peace it seeks."

The priestess turned again, and Kesi knelt, her eyes staring up at her great grandmother. There was an awe and eagerness to her Catra hadn't seen since Kesi had helped her dress for her Coronation.

"With my eyes, I have seen. With my ears, I have heard. With my heart, I have known. I witness the blessings of Princess Catra and Princess Kittrina and know they have found what they sought within our temple. I witness their service to Halfmoon and her people and that they have sought wisdom, found knowledge, and will face all that comes."

Kelara smiled and dipped her fingers in the basin a third time. Kesi gasped, her tail curling around her arm. "…grandmother?"

"Hush, my child. I am a priestess and I do know what I know to be true. You are blessed of Etheria, Kesi of Halfmoon," she trailed her fingers down her great-granddaughter's forehead, "and you have walked your path with determined steps and sought hope and given of yourself. May you serve with joy; may you speak for those who must be heard, and may your heart guide you in hope."

Tears ran down Kesi's face, but Catra spoke. "I know no faith but I have seen with my eyes, heard with my ears, and have witnessed Kesi's service to Halfmoon - to me and mine - and I know her to be compassionate, wise, and skilled. And I know she is one who will stand with me now and in all that comes. She has my trust and the trust of her people."

Kesi stood and faced Catra, her eyes still wide. "Thank you. You have no idea what you just - what that means."

Catra slowly reached out and clasped Kesi's arm. "I don't have to know what something means to know it matters. I told you before - you were there at the beginning. You helped me when no one else knew how. You and your people have supported me every step of the way as princess."

She hadn't been about to pass up a chance to give support back to her.

Kelara looked over at Akrash. "Give the little princess back to her mother and step forward, Akrash of Mystacor."

He blinked. Pointed at himself. "Me?"

"Yes, you. I know of you. I knew you as a child and I know you now. Step forward."

Carefully, Akrash passed Isha back to Kittrina who smiled at him. She stepped close to him to take her baby back into her arms, and rested her forehead against his shoulder. Catra heard her whisper to him, but she didn't hear what was said.

Akrash nodded to her, then turned to Kelara. The priestess dipped her finger into the basin again and slowly drew a longer, wider mark of gold on his white fur. "I wish none to miss what I place here. You are blessed of Etheria, Akrash of Mystacor. You were but a child when your parents turned against their own, when they chose to walk the shadowed path. You are a son of Halfmoon and you belong here. May you serve with skill; may you speak with knowledge, and may your heart find forgiveness for yourself for burdens none should have asked you to carry."

Akrash bowed, his voice soft. "Thank you, priestess."

Kelara again dipped a finger in the basin and touched it to Ishara's small forehead, leaving a dot of gold on her pale auburn fur. "May you, little one, grow in peace, be raised in love, and never know the pain or strife of the generation before you."

She turned to the basin and waved her hands in wide circles; this time, her magic as gold as the light over her head as five crystal bottles appeared in the air - the remaining water from the basin split and flowed into them; crystal stoppers appeared and capped the bottles.

"This water has been sanctified by what we have done here; a few drops will cleanse darkness from an item or a room. More can cleanse the taint of darkness from a person. It will not heal, it will not provide succor - but it is a balm against darkness. Against the magics of darkness and will cleanse wounds created by dark magic. It is yours, by right of the blessing. Go forth and let Halfmoon know they are served by those who are blessed of Etheria."

They each took their bottle, Kesi clutching hers to her with tears. "Grandmother…I…thank you…I…"

Kelara leaned over and hugged her grand-daughter. "It was only a matter of time before I got an excuse to give you a blessing, Kesi. You have been worthy for a long time, since you came to us and told us you knew you were a girl and wanted help. You knew yourself and were brave enough to face it. I knew if I told you I intended you to be blessed today, you would have found another to witness."

Kesi smiled. "You helped me. You, my parents - you didn't need to…I don't deserve…"

The priestess leaned down. "We helped you, as we help all who are aeonic. It is one of the purposes of a temple to help those who need it. Food. Shelter. Guidance. Medicine. In this Halfmoon, few need us as they did in the olden days, because Halfmoon takes care of its own. Halfmoon stands - and stands for its people. You deserve it for the life you have created once you became yourself. I am the priestess, and my own counsel I keep on who is worthy, granddaughter. Now, go. Your princesses need you."

Kittrina sighed. "We really do. I'm the extra princess, so I don't get a Seneschal of my own. I have to borrow you or Percival, but you somehow manage to keep my calendar straight, even with all the 'new kitten' problems. You're a miracle worker."

Catra shot her cousin a look. "Just be glad I'm sharing her. I could be mean about it and make you hire someone."

Kittrina looked mildly horrified at that thought. "How about I handle the next three galas and you let me ask her to help me get organized?"

Kesi looked stunned. "I mean, I can help both of you? Neither of you are that much trouble. Her majesty's schedule is the scary one!"

Catra looked over at Kittrina. "How about this. You take all the galas I can get out of, and I let you ask Kesi to help you with whatever you need?"

"She just said she can help us both. You're just leveraging this to get out of the fancy parties."

Catra grinned as they started walking towards the entrance. "I am. I can also, technically, say she can't help you. And you have a husband to dance with at those things. I keep getting scared noble boys Imoh bribes into asking me to dance and I have to hurt their feelings." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't even like boys."

She wouldn't mind galas so much if Adora were here. Dancing with Adora would be - nice. Maybe even fun. They'd learned to dance in the Horde, though Catra was never entirely sure why, other than yet another coordination exercise.

Kittrina sighed. "You are ruthless. Fine. But I'll need Akrash to babysit on those nights."

Catra waved her off. "Yeah, sure. Do what you want with him. He kidnapped me and will be paying that off for years."

Akrash sighed. "The worst part about it is that it's entirely my own fault. Spite fueled rescues aren't the best plans. I've learned this."

The priestess paused. "Princess Catra. Remain a moment please. I will escort you back to your companions shortly."

Kesi looked torn. She trusted her great-grandmother, but leaving her princess alone with anyone went against what she saw her job as. But Akrash and Kittrina both nodded, and Kesi followed them, glancing back over her shoulder at her friend.

Catra waited until they were all through the door before crossing her arms and looking at the priestess with a raised eyebrow. She liked and respected Kesi's great-grandmother, but if the woman thought she was going to apologize or accept being scolded for giving Kesi support during the blessing, she would discover otherwise quickly.

"Did you know, princess, you have been blessed and protected by very powerful light magic? It burns bright, though it is years old. Well settled into you, and seemingly undimmed with time."

Catra's ears went back against her head, and her tail flicked. Not what she was expecting at all. She felt her muscles tighten as she narrowed her eyes at the priestess. "Yes. I know."

She did know. She had magic vision now - as much as it irritated her. She knew the look and feel of the magic suffusing her. She knew what it was - Adora's healing. Whatever magic Adora had done to her was still there, but no other sorcerer, not even mother or Lenio, had ever mentioned it.

She figured they couldn't see it - whatever Adora's powers were, they were hidden from normal magicians. But apparently not from priestesses. That thought was going to fester. Was Adora supposed to a priestess of some kind? (Catra thought gold and white would be good colors on her.)

But Adora was hers. Adora was someone she shared rarely and reluctantly, and not with a woman she'd just met. No matter how wise and powerful and influential.

Kelara looked at her steadily. Unblinking. "You have no questions? You have no comments?"

"Nope. I know how it got there. Don't like talking about it. I know what it is. Mostly. I don't want to talk about who put it there."

The priestess looked taken aback - and worried. "Your highness - "

"Catra. My name is Catra. Please use it. Titles matter to other people. Not me. But my name matters."

She huffed, but nodded. "Very well, Princess Catra. Such magic is very powerful. Strong and enduring, and there could be effects from carrying it, from not addressing it - "

Catra smiled wanly. She trusted Adora and she trusted Adora's magic. She knew enough about magic now to understand some of what happened that night. Adora hadn't used a spell, not even the crude accidental spells those with enough sorceric talent accidentally created as kids. No, she had somehow channeled raw magical energy into Catra, infusing her with it, imbuing it into her, accelerating her own healing. Magic used that way was dangerous, but it responded to intent.

And Catra had no doubts about Adora's intent that night.

"Nope. Not happening. I appreciate what you did here today, but this? This isn't your business, priestess. Kesi trusts you, which means you get a lot of leeway from me, but you're using it up. I'm not a member of your faith. You have no direct authority over me, and if you think me carrying around light magic is a problem, you should take it up with my mother. She is the only force on or in this whole entire world that could get me to change my mind about this. Maybe. Don't push me on this. Don't make this a fight."

Catra won fights. Especially fights other people started.

"I mean no harm. And no intrusion, Princess Catra. I only mean to offer counsel if you need it. Knowledge and wisdom and my own understanding of this magic. If you change your mind - ever - we are here for you. I will not use it against you and I will not scold or berate you. You have my word, your secret is safe with me, but I urge you to truly consider what this - light - remaining within you might mean. Please."

Catra shrugged, but finally nodded. "I've thought about it, priestess. A lot. I know why it's there. How it got there." Her fingers and toes felt heavy and achy like they always did when she remembered how she'd gotten her claws. What her claws were. "I trust it. I'm safe. I also know what it means. I was there, after all. Mostly."

She hadn't been coherent at first. She had no idea how long Adora had worked on her before she truly became aware of what her friend had been doing, but she had been there for some of it. Enough of it.

Adora had saved her life. Her sanity. Her ability to function and be a person - walk and use her hands. Fight.

But Adora wasn't Etherian. She wasn't anything anyone really knew about. She was just - Adora. And Catra would put all of her faith into the unknowns about Adora before she would put her trust in someone she didn't know - no matter how good a grandmother they were.

"Your certainty is - impressive, Princess Catra. Faith is a powerful thing. Trust is a powerful thing. When magic is involved, belief and intent and will are mightier than science or knowledge. I hope yours is not misplaced."

Catra's tail whipped. "It's not. And you can prod and poke all day, priestess. I'm not going to slip and tell you what you want to know. I know this game. I'm good at this game. Now, since neither of us is happy with how this conversation has gone, I'm going to leave before it starts going worse."

The priestess nodded. "Very well. I will send you with the ancient benediction of our order - a wish that magic may stand between you and harm in all the dark places where you must walk."

Catra tilted her head. "Thank you, priestess. That, I appreciate. Mostly."

She could take care of herself just fine without magic.

She turned and strode out of the temple. Chances are, she wasn't ever going back. That wouldn't do anyone any good.

Chapter Text

The Royal Parlor

Halfmoon Castle

Halfmoon

Subtheria

Just over one year after Catra's abduction

Birthdays were weird.

It was the only conclusion Catra could draw. She was in the 'Royal Parlor' - what her mother called the royal family room. Part of it was still a formal reception are, but most of it was now a (relatively) informal dining area for their family and friends, and there was the spot in front of the large fireplace set up with mismatched chairs, couches, and tables where they held meetings, or just sat and talked.

That afternoon, Catra was in the formal reception area. Everyone was - at least those who mattered. The 'party' was done - it had been an hours long affair with food, dancing, and speeches. Formal clothes and celebrations. People had talked about her arrival to Halfmoon. Her childhood. Her defeat of the Baron. Her civic projects. Her impending adulthood.

Thankfully, only one or two people had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Aster had choked on his drink, and Lyra had redirected the conversation fast enough there were diplomatic skid marks, but they had avoided whatever response Catra might have given.

She was a little disappointed. She had some really good responses. No one would ever forget them.

She'd gotten a lot of gifts from a lot of people she didn't know. A lot of things she hadn't asked for and didn't want. She didn't need more stuff. Gifts she would have to open. And apparently, write thank you notes for? Thankfully, Kesi had been in the background with her tablet, making sure each gift was cataloged and referenced for later.

Catra was not a fan of things without use or meaning, and she was amassing a lot of them again.

At least everyone had been very pleased with the gold mark on her forehead. All of them receiving blessings had been remarked on and seemed to make most of the 'important' people at her official birthday party happy. Even Imoh had congratulated her on it - with sincerity!

Now, it was just the people close to her. The only people in the room were the ones she liked - or at least tolerated. It was a lot nicer, a lot better than the party had been. She'd been able to go back to her room and change into comfortable clothes, at least.

Everyone had.

Catra was in her favorite warm, soft pants and a tank top. Her mother was in much the same, but she wore an old, worn jacket over it. She'd seen her mother wear it often enough in her study, and it had a very comforting scent that never seemed to change.

She still wished she'd ignored her mother and worn her armor. She'd felt 0ff-kilter without all day. Part of who she had become was missing. It wasn't just feeling vulnerable; it was like she had been playacting a role instead of being the princess.

Kesi was dressed as she always was, but as Kesi told Catra often - she got to wear her comfortable clothes to work. Kittrina was in a soft shirt with easy access for the baby and long, soft skirt. Akrash had left his robes behind, wearing a simple shirt and pants, but his shirt was still a startling shade of dark pink, even if his pants were a dark gray.

Lenio was in his scrubs, but he almost always was since taking back over the position of Royal Physician. His healer's robes were probably in his office. (Catra had recently learned that before she was born, Lenio had been the Royal Physician, the Royal Sorcerer, and the Chair of Sorcery - all at the same time.)

The older magicat had arrived with Akrash after her party. They had spent most of the late afternoon and evening working on their project of trading magical knowledge. Most of it apparently happened while Lenio was seeing patients, and Akrash had been pressed into service helping him.

From what Kittrina had told her, Akrash was often Lenio's assistant when the two of them were working together, but Akrash didn't seem to mind.

The most formally dressed one there was Aster - but he had stayed after the party. Not only to help direct the cleanup, but he had been deep in negotiations with a couple of the richer, older nobles about more funding for the Hall of the Lost Temple. Catra could hardly blame him, even if she felt bad he was stuck in his formal suit.

Catra settled back into her favorite chair - it was more of an angled bowl filled with cushions than a real chair - next to her mother, holding her mug full of Kesi's special hot apple cider.

"Happy birthday, my heart." Lyra smiled at her, cradling her mug of tea gently. "I know it was not, perhaps, the easiest birthday, but I hope it was not all bad."

Catra shrugged. "I can honestly say it's the best birthday I can remember? Not like I've celebrated it a bunch. I still don't get it, but okay, whatever? Parties are confusing, birthdays are confusing, and both are a lot of work. I am not looking forward to going through all of those gifts."

Lyra laughed softly. "Oh, Catra. You are so very different than I was at your age. Opening the gifts and being surprised by what people gave me, finding the hidden treasures in the mass of things I was given for being a princess having a birthday was my favorite part. And while I am sad you did not learn to enjoy your birthday growing up, I am hopeful you can learn to find joy in it as you grow into adulthood. I know! I know - it is a magic number."

She held up one hand in surrender. "I acknowledge how arbitrary and confusing it is. I do! And how frustrating it must be for you. But for us - the process of growing into adulthood is important. Meaningful."

Catra groaned. "I'm aware. I'm also aware I have a year where I have to put up with people referring to your magic number theory and reminding me I'm not an 'adult' yet. Which is dumb, Momma. So very dumb. I'm a princess. I can order military strikes into enemy territory. I can conceive, plan, and execute massive civic projects. I pass judgments in royal audiences. What I eat for breakfast can have economic, social, and political impact. What I wear gets talked about on the news. My training the guard gets put on the vid. But whenever I say or do something someone doesn't like, they can use the fact I have not yet achieved the magic number of years alive as a way to dismiss, ignore, patronize, condescend, or otherwise smugly not acknowledge me. My experience, capabilities, actual accomplishments, or rank can be effectively invalidated because I am not 'old enough' or my status as 'nearly adult' can be used to bolster things I say other people like. It's a terrible position to be in, and everyone is just amused at my frustration."

Lyra frowned. "That's true - and the hardest part, I think, is you have been raised so different. For you, there were definitive rules for when your voice would be heard. Rank mattered. Accomplishments mattered. Age was less important than experience or training. Here, it's far more nebulous, and you're right - they can and will use it to shut you down. But you're not alone, and those of us who know you will support you and call them out on it. You can call them out on it and use your accomplishments as a way to show they're wrong. It won't be easy and it won't be fair. You haven't spent your life knowing you needed to be a certain age to have certain rights and be treated with a certain level of respect, so it feels very - limiting. For us, we believe it is the time in your life when you are coming into your own. Normally, at eighteen, you would be finishing your formal education and beginning the kind of training and practice you grew up doing. You have lived a different life, and this next year will be harder on you than someone raised with us. I am sorry for that, my heart. Making light of it isn't fair to you."

Catra sank further back into her chair. "Thank you for that, at least. Really, I'd tolerate the smug and patronizing comments better if I didn't have to deal with all this stuff. But maybe you'll be right and there will be some hidden treasures in it."

"Then I have more bad news, but I hope it will not be as bad as you worry about. You are about to get more gifts. Once the others arrive, those closest to you will give you gifts - gifts they have chosen with you in mind instead of merely trying to win favor with a princess or fulfill the social obligation of giving a gift to a princess."

Catra turned to stare at her mother, incredulous. More gifts?

"Momma. I know you said you wanted me to be spoiled. I promise. I'm spoiled. Over spoiled. Utterly rotten. How much stuff does one girl need? Even my absurdly large rooms can't handle much more!"

Kesi walked by, rolling her eyes. "You have plenty of space. You just don't want to use it. But we'll sort it out. Most of it can be gifts to people you like and who help you out. Some of it can be repurposed. A lot of it can be used for your projects and to decorate spaces you influence. Most of it, you won't have to handle more than once or twice, I promise. Even if I do still need to get you down to that storage level soon."

Catra rolled her eyes. "And I still need to find out where Halfmoon gets all the wood it makes things from. But sure. You control my schedule. So you get to figure it out."

"Ooh! Power and authority over shopping for nice things I can guilt you into using! Go me!" Kesi grinned and rubbed her hands together. "Great idea, Catra!"

Kittrina looked over at Catra. "I think the power has gone to her head. We're doomed."

"Nope." Catra pulled her legs up into her chair. "I am a fan of power-mad Kesi, making all the decisions I hate. She can run my life, I can help run the country, and we can all blame Imoh when things go wrong."

Kittrina shrugged, shifting to let Isha get better access to her chest. "Yeah. Fair. Blaming Imoh is always a good plan. Still, if you want company when you go down there…?"

Catra shrugged. She and Kittrina had the oddest relationship - they constantly tried to out-do each other, but being princesses and aligned in what was becoming known as the 'progressive' faction meant they did a lot together. If she wanted to go look through old stuff the royal family had stocked away, it was fine. They could argue about what to do with it all.

"Sure. Fair warning. I'll be grumpy about it. Probably confused. Likely bitey."

"I have a baby. You can't scare me anymore. I'm too sleep deprived to feel fear."

Lyra laughed as Lenio sat down. "Oh, I remember those days! Of course, if you ask Lenio, I just made it harder on myself."

"Because you did!" Lenio sat down on an ottoman, folding himself into a position that made Aster wince. The orange-furred magicat was the least physically trained of them all, but seeing Lenio - by far the oldest of their group - sit with the flexibility usually shown by kittens always made him wince a bit.

"Lyra, you and Cyrus got yourselves trapped in the lower city when the lake overflowed, or do you forget the panic we all had trying to get out of that old tunnel you and he just had to explore when we were checking the new section being opened up? Our pregnant princess, trapped in tunnel filling with water! You came up with a terrible fever and a leg wound. You gave birth three months later, and you, -" Lenio pointed at Catra, "were born with fever coat. Those tufts of fur and hair along your neck and scalp lighter than the rest of you? That's fever coat - when a magicat's mother is stick while pregnant, it can happen. Rather common. Not medically significant. No danger to mother or baby. But your mother never did sleep enough after you were born, worried her fever had harmed you. It took your father to make her rest for the first few months."

Lyra looked down at her mug, smiling. "I remember. You told me. Everyone told me. I just felt so - embarrassed at the whole thing. Being trapped. Being rescued. I wasn't even that traumatized or worried about you, Catra. I knew you were fine, but I felt like you would resent me forever for having a lark with your father and then ending up with multicolored hair."

"Pregnancy hormones are the worst." Kittrina sighed as she lifted Isha to her shoulder, patting her back. Aster produced a cloth from somewhere he used to protect Kittrina's shirt from the inevitable spit-up.

"They are!" Lyra laughed. "Looking back, I can laugh at my worries. You are beautiful, Catra."

Catra shrugged. "I like my multi-shade hair and my dual color eyes, thank you."

Adora had loved both. She had always cooed over how pretty it made her. Nothing anyone had said about either since had bothered her.

"We're here!" Askar came into the room, followed by Percival and Cloudfoot. "And we brought more gifts. Just the thing to put a scowl on the birthday girl's face!"

Catra looked up at Askar, who had something hidden behind his back. "You know me so well. And yet, I bet you brought me something, didn't you?"

Askar leaned down and put his forehead against Kittrina's. She leaned up and rubbed her face against her grandfather. His hand reached down to pet Isha's forehead, and she nipped at his finger.

"I did, yes. But I am a wily, cunning old warrior and know what I give you will be appreciated far beyond the gifts of these others! Because I do know you." He hooked an ottoman with his leg, pulling over to him. He sat down in front of Catra and handed her a large, wax-sealed jar full of viscous amber liquid. "Honey! From Eternia, but I know how much you enjoy it."

Catra smiled and took the jar from him. "Okay. Yeah. You might just win whatever contest is happening with the gifts. Wow. Thank you."

Kesi was making the rounds again, and as she refilled Lyra's tea, she snagged the jar. "I'll make sure it gets home for you."

Catra tapped the jar as Kesi grabbed it. "Make sure it doesn't end up buried in all the other stuff. I'd hate to lose that."

Honey was rare in Halfmoon. While they managed to find ways to grow a lot of different plants, and they had bee colonies, there weren't enough of them. Getting honey from the surface was a rarity. Most of the time, their honey came from Eternia, but even that was often hard to get - most of the region of Eternia near Qadia was desert or wasteland.

And, of course, Catra had figured out she loved honey. (There was something about it that made her think of Adora - in a way that didn't make her ache.)

Askar giving Catra his gift opened the floodgates, and soon she was being plied with gifts. Percival and Cloudfoot had already given her their gift - a bowl chair for her office, much like the one she loved in the family parlor.

Lyra handed her a leather bound notebook, slightly larger - and in much better condition than the one she'd been using since just after her Coronation. She'd stolen her notebook from her mother's study - it was older and rarely used, and had been one of the many things Percival had stocked Lyra's study with, years before. Catra had used it to keep track of things since, but it was getting close to full and was falling apart. Along with it came a beautiful copper pen with maroon ink.

"My heart, you have become known for your lists. I figured a nicer notebook and pen might be useful for you. A gift that is beautiful, useful, and something you need. One of Kesi's cave culture friends made it for me, apparently. I had Percival track down someone who still made this kind of journal."

Most of Halfmoon used tablets - pen and paper were rarities. They could easily make paper from various plants that grew well underground, but it wasn't the same quality as the paper Catra was used to from the Horde.

The paper in the notebook her mother gave her felt smooth and heavy - even better than what she had been used to.

"You just don't want me to stealing another notebook." Catra ran her fingers over the supple leather cover. "Thank you. It's beautiful. Kesi, make a note - we need to make sure to let the artist know."

"I know exactly who made that. We can let her know - and if you like it, we'll order a few more. Backups, put a couple in your office and have them on hand when you need them for something. Selia will be overjoyed to make more. The pen is her husband's work, so we can do the same there."

"Perfect." Catra set the notebook and pen down next to her.

Lyra leaned over and rested her head against Catra's shoulder. "You can steal all my notebooks, Catra. I rarely use them. Your father, on the other hand, carried pen and paper on him most of the time."

Catra felt a warmth at having a habit like her father's - even if it was a habit she'd stolen from Adora. Back when they'd just moved from the creche to cadet barracks, Adora had been overwhelmed with everything they'd had to keep track of. Commander Cobalt, upon realizing Shadow Weaver had not issued them tablets, had given her a stack of standard issue notebooks and a pack of pens to write everything down. Adora had been an inveterate list-maker and note-taker ever since.

She'd teased Adora about it, endlessly, even sometimes stealing the notebooks when they got more attention than she did. Since coming to Halfmoon, she'd realized how much writing it all down could help. Without her lists, she'd end up forgetting things, and while she knew Kesi kept everything electronically and transcribed a lot of Catra's notes and lists into the info-net and their tablets, Catra found it easier to use pen and paper.

If she wasn't careful, her claws damaged the tablets - her fingers were heavier because of the metal claws, which also caused her issues with the touchscreens. She didn't complain about it often, but it required concentration to use tablets. It was faster to write by hand.

"Something new I can write the longest-standing to-do item in!" Catra laughed. "Finding out where Halfmoon gets wood for things from."

Akrash's gift was thoughtful - and it wasn't a thing. "I enchanted your favorite jackets. Waterproof, dirt-resistant, tear-resistant. And they'll keep you cool when it's warm and warm when it's cool. Figured it might be useful."

Catra grinned at him. "Look at you. Finding ways to get out of going shopping. Thanks. I appreciate it."

And she appreciated it wasn't more things.

"It's true. I hate shopping." Akrash shrugged. "And yet, somehow, Kittrina drags me out to buy things at least once a week."

"Things for me. Catra may be all minimalist, but I am not. And kittens require a lot of things."

"And I dislike her going out alone, even with guards." Aster was holding Isha gently, rubbing her back soothingly. "Especially after the coup earlier this year. You going with her means she has a sorcerer as well as warriors to protect her - and now Ishara."

Catra wanted to roll her eyes at him. His tone of voice alone - low and slow and grandiose, as if he were announcing a heroic plan to save his wife instead of just talking about what were probably reasonable security arrangements for the new mother.

She also couldn't help but notice Kittrina wasn't doing all the work with Isha - and Aster hadn't once complained. He'd just stared in wonder at his daughter. And as annoying as he made himself sound, he was also protecting his wife and child. As much as Kittrina could take care of herself, Isha couldn't. And until just a couple of months ago, Kittrina had been pregnant.

"And I can carry things." Akrash shrugged. "That's normally what I end up doing."

Aster grinned at him. "Better you than me. She is welcome to buy whatever her heart desires, but I lack the patience or instinct for shopping and negotiating with merchants. I have my own staff who take care of that for me."

Kittrina tugged at his ear fondly. "The merchants thank you for outsourcing your grumpy shopping energy. Akrash just stands there looks like his soul has fled his body. You grumble about it."

Aster sighed and looked up in defeat. "I do. I really do. I have failed you, my love, but my cousin has given you Akrash to take my place on your grand shopping adventures."

Kittrina shrugged. "She did. It was very nice of her. Still, shopping can be very political. What I buy, who I buy from - it matters. Which is why Kesi makes sure I get to visit all the cave culture artisans. I still visit the shops and creators who have supported us for a long time, but I have been making sure to buy from as many of our new supporters as I can, too."

Catra knew she did. Kittrina bought a lot of things for the royal family. While Percival and Kesi handled most of supplying the castle with what it needed, Kittrina sourced, investigated, ordered, and purchased a lot of what Catra thought of as 'royal stuff' - the things the royal family needed to appear royal. A lot of them were luxuries Catra didn't indulge in, but some of it was supplies for their clothes (or their actual clothes), jewelry, and furnishings.

It let Kittrina keep herself immersed in the commerce of the city, as well as make sure the royal family was seen spending money in Halfmoon. Catra didn't understand it, entirely, but it mattered.

Lenio's gift was a small, but comprehensive first aid kit, complete with potions. "I know you collect gear for your field kit - that you have all manner of things on your person at all times, just in case. This is for medical emergencies. General antidotes, antiseptic, a dose or two of restorative potion. Enough to deal with emergencies and get you in for actual treatment. Most of those were brewed by Akrash over there - he's been stuck helping me in the infirmary. He's good at it - better than most of the nurses the Hall sends over. Going to be a helluva healer when I'm through with him."

Catra took the compact kit with its tiny phials and tucked it into her satchel. "Thank you - that's probably a good thing to have."

She already had a few bits of first aid gear, but - even as much as she hated potions - she figured Lenio's gift would come in handy someday.

Aster looked at Kittrina, who scowled at him. She sighed as she took their daughter from him. "I think my husband's gift is - somewhat less than he does. But I will let him explain."

Aster sighed and held up his hand. "I understand your reservations. I do! But several of us are not from Halfmoon originally. You and Askar are from an entirely other world! Akrash is functionally from Mystacor, and is as much an Etherian as he is a magicat. Catra was not raised here, either, and I think we ignore that far more than we should. The Horde is a nation, with more than one culture within it. Catra came here with nothing, and I want to give her something of the culture she grew up with back. That's all."

Catra felt uneasy but intrigued. What could he give her from the Horde that would be culturally representative or even meaningful? Of course, he had no way of knowing Catra hadn't meaningfully interacted with Horde culture in any way. She'd been outside it more than a part of it. All of them had - their cadet coterie had been purposefully isolated by Shadow Weaver.

"Our culture is important to us. We cherish it and hold it close. Even our factions, from the traditionalists like Imoh to Haverisk's expansionists to our own progressives are built on ideas and trends from our culture." Aster reached down and pulled out a well-wrapped box from the floor in front of him. "Asking Catra to give up every element of the culture she grew up in goes against everything important to me. I married a woman - an amazing woman - from Eternia. I walk between cultures often in my job as Ambassador to Qadia, and well…I mean nothing more by my gift than this. Where we come from helps shape us, and we all deserve to have a piece of what shaped us."

He handed Catra the box with a nervous smile.

Catra took the box, anxiety churning in her gut. Aster meant well - but she had tried so hard to distance herself from the Horde. To step away from that part of her life. The only thing she wanted to hold on from those years was Adora, and she was far, far out of Catra's reach.

The box came open easily, and nestled inside it, carefully folded, was a worn red jacket. Short, puffy sleeves. Tall, stiff collar. The zipper stopped two thirds of the way up. She knew this jacket -

Had Adora come down to Subtheria to fight Halfmoon? Was she already dead? Was all of her faint, distant hope, the possibility she'd clung to for so long already gone?

Catra took the jacket out of the box, ignoring the way her fur stood on end. The way her fingers shook, the way the material felt against her.

It wasn't hers. It wasn't the right size - this was made for someone taller, broader than Adora. Under the scents of detergents and washing, Catra could make out the faint scent of someone else.

The hem was fraying and the collar was faintly stained; the red canvas was scuffed.

Her breath caught and her hand trembled as she hesitantly reached for it. She looked up at Aster, her eyes narrowing.

"Where did you get this?" Her voice was quiet. Tense. Her ears were pinned back and her tail slapped against the side of her chair.

Aster grinned. "Did I - actually do good?"

Catra clenched her jaw. 'This is a Cadet Captain's jacket, Aster. Worn by a Cadet. Where did you get it?"

He leaned back, hands out in front of him, eyes wide. "Whoa! No! Catra! I don't know where it came from! It was in a collection of Horde gear the sorcerers in the Hall have gathered over the years. I have no idea why it was even there, but this looked like it might fit you! I just wanted to give you something - something that might remind you of people you might miss or things you don't get anymore, not - not a dead kid!"

Catra stared at it. Adora.

This was what Adora had worn every day since they'd graduated to cadets. From the first day she had proudly put on the red jacket until the night Catra had been taken, a jacket like this one had been part of Adora's wardrobe. Part of Adora. Her jacket. Her ponytail. It made her stand out from the rest of the cadets. It made her look like herself.

Each of Adora's jackets was meticulously cared for, laundered until they were soft - many had pinprick holes from Catra's claws or had her fur clinging to them.

She felt like she couldn't breathe. The jacket wasn't right. The right size. The right feel, the right smell.

It was like holding a terrible caricature of something that should have been precious to her.

Her chest was too tight. Her heart was beating too fast, echoing in her ears. The world was spinning. She couldn't retract her claws.

She looked up at him. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't known. There was no way he could have known about Adora. There was no way he could have known what this specific piece of clothing meant. And after so long at war, it wasn't a surprise there were pieces of Horde uniforms, gear, even armor and weapons floating around Halfmoon in various places.

She knew there were. Askar had had very quietly given her access to Horde stun batons and blasters so she could show him how they were taught to use them.

Catra drew in a deep breath. "…you got part of it. It's a reminder, all right. I saw people wearing this jacket every day. Some were good people. Great people. Some were awful. But…I mean, I appreciate what you mean by it. There's no real way to leave behind everything I was. Or everyone I knew."

All she wanted was one person.

She let the jacket fall back into the box. She had no idea what she was going to do with it, but she knew she would never be able to wear it. It was hard enough to look at it - to know she had it.

To imagine how Halfmoon had come to have it.

Cloudfoot stood up. "Now that we have given gifts, I have decided I have one more I want to give our princess. I think I shall answer your question. Come! I shall show you where Halfmoon gets wood to make things from, and I will take the excuse to tell you all about another aspect of Halfmoon history and culture. How can I miss such a perfect opportunity?"

Catra looked at Aster. Words were sticking in her throat, jumbling as they all fought to come out. She wanted to rage at him. How dare he invoke her memory?

He had no right! No right to impinge on that part of her life. No right to invoke memories of the Horde. No right to give her something so viscerally Adora with such a casual disregard for the kind of meaning it would have.

She also knew her anger was misplaced.

He couldn't have known. There was no way Aster, of all people could have known what that jacket would mean to her. He was everything Kittrina said he was: obtuse, socially inept, but well-meaning.

How often had Kittrina mentioned Aster being sentimental? Holding onto things from their courtship, their wedding? How often had Lyra said Aster put great store in the meaning of items he owned?

He was - in his own way - trying to give Catra a piece of her past. To show respect for where she had come from.

He had tried to show her all of her was important. To not ignore who she had been - as if she could. She fumbled. Stuttered. Finally, found words. As diplomatic as even Percival and Cloudfoot could have wanted.

She didn't know what else to say. The words were hollow. Her voice wasn't hers. The words tasted like ash. Like lies. But they were something. Stemming the emotions she couldn't name, holding back the screams she wished she could let out.

"Thank you for trying. The meaning of the gift isn't lost on me, and that you want me to feel allowed to celebrate the good things I had there does mean a lot. I just think maybe it was too soon."

She stood up and grabbed her staff, following Cloudfoot out. After a moment, Lyra stood and followed them both.

As she walked out, she scowled darkly at Aster. "Next time, listen to your wife."

A Secret Path In the Castle

Halfmoon Castle

Halfmoon

Subtheria

Just over one year after Catra's abduction

Catra walked next to Cloudfoot. She did her best to ignore the guards following at a very respectful distance. Tigria and Kyril knew their princess' moods all too well and knew better than to get too close. To overhear. To crowd.

She let herself be silent. She knew Cloudfoot loved to talk, but - she didn't have any words. Just the aching wound where Adora's presence used to be. The constant, gnawing awareness her best friend was lost to her, left behind in the Fright Zone for Shadow Weaver to manipulate and shape to her will.

Where Catra couldn't reach her. Help her. Where she was slowly, inexorably, becoming Catra's enemy - because of who Catra had become. Who Catra had been born to be.

She forced herself to walk tall. To keep her tail up. Her ears up. To not show a single hint of what she was feeling. If there was one thing she remembered from the Horde, it was the maxims of: survival first and never let them see you weak.

And in that moment, it almost felt like she had just arrived instead of having been in Halfmoon more than a year.

Cloudfoot walked along with her in companionable silence. There was a comfortable ease around him, like always. He was, as per usual, smiling - as if he knew things most people could only guess at.

They walked through the elegant marble halls of the castle, ambling along a path Cloudfoot barely seemed to need to think about. Down stairs and around corners.

Finally, Catra found her voice; most of her words were still trapped in her chest, but she had finally wrestled enough of her grief, her longing down she could speak.

"You're not asking, are you?"

Cloudfoot shook his head. "No, Catra, I am not. I would not presume. Not this time. What you endured there is yours. Yours to keep or share as you wish or need. While I find nothing as comforting as discussing a feeling or a problem until there is nothing left to say about it, I know this doesn't help you, and I very much wanted to get you away from Aster and give you time and space to think - and feel - without so many eyes on you."

Catra nodded. Swallowed hard. She felt her claws slide in and out of her fingers, and she clenched her fists and felt the unnatural heaviness in her fingers she could never quite forget was there.

"Thanks. Aster is…" she trailed off. How could she explain without insulting her father's only living relative - who, as far as she knew, had tried to do a nice thing. And failed spectacularly.

"Quite vexing, yes."

Catra huffed. "How is he an Ambassador? Powerful sorcerer and all, but he's as diplomatic as I am!"

Cloudfoot laughed. "Yes, well, luckily for Aster, Qadia is very different than Halfmoon. The Old Clans live on a single island - though quite large! - on Eternia. They are situated to avoid most of the wars there, though some of the dark forces there still harry them. They are a society built on ritual and rules and a strict social hierarchy. There, Aster's social missteps are barely noticed, because he is of the royal family, making him second in rank only to their chieftain. Even then, he is married to Celian's daughter, making him just barely socially inferior. He can do and say much without reprisal or causing offense, because of his status. He seems to understand them, and they, him. It doesn't change that he would be quite insufferable were he not so competent and dedicated to Halfmoon."

Part of her understood it. Aster visited Kittrina's first home all the time! Akrash spoke about Mystacor like it was a bastion of all that was good and safe in the world. She wasn't the only one in Halfmoon who had started somewhere else, but it felt like the places other people had come from were far, far better than the Horde had been.

As much as the Horde was their enemy, they knew little of what it was like to live in it. To grow up in the Fright Zone, and every time she talked about it, she scandalized and appalled and worried people and then they all wanted to try to fix it - like they could somehow be nice enough to erase years of pain and suffering.

Aster had wanted to give her something of her first home,

Catra growled. "I want to like him. I want to try to get to know him. He grew up with my father! We're - related, and that's important here. I'm almost over him trying to blast me into the carpet my first day here, but he's smug. He's rude. He's - "

"Socially oblivious." Cloudfoot let a bit of his own exasperation seep into his voice. "Aster believes he is quite socially adept and does not take correction well. It is - vexing. What he did tonight was unintentional cruelty, and I wish you had not had to suffer it. I know your feelings on such things, or I would apologize on his behalf, as I once spent many hours vainly teaching him social graces. But instead, I shall tell you about trees."

Catra tilted her head - both at the odd segue (which she was grateful for) and the odd comment.

"Trees?"

"Tress." Cloudfoot led her down yet another set of stairs. "Before, when Halfmoon was a great city on Etheria, it was built at the base of a small mountain. Nothing significant, like the ranges you see bordering Snows or the western edge of Horde territory - the mountains we now live under, but all around us was a great forest of mighty trees, some even taller than our mountain. Our most ancient legends speak of our people being born in the great forests of lauha trees."

He turned down a corridor that as far as Catra knew - eventually went nowhere. Offices and workshops for castle maintenance staff were a few levels below them, and most of what they were walking towards were storage areas - some with dumbwaiters that connected all the way down to the castle stores and warehouses far below them.

"It's why Halfmoon was first built where it was - at the foot of the mountain where our clans held their grand moots. The land we claimed as ours was rich in magic. More ley lines than even in what would become the Fright Zone. Only Bright Moon or Mystacor boasted as many. Those ley lines, that magic - it fed the lauha trees, making them unique in all the world. Their wood was coveted by crafters the world over, and the art we made with it deeply prized. The same magic feeding those mighty trees gave us our nature - that our sorcerers can use ley lines. That most of our people are born with small, but potent magics."

"And that, my heart, was once Halfmoon's legacy. Great artificers came from Bright Moon, and mighty magic from Mystacor. The Empire of the Nest built grand architecture - breathtaking works of art rising above and descending below Etheria. Plumeria grew every form of plant we could name and more we will never know the names of. Medicines and spices and culinary creations none could match - Plumeria once thought to feed the world. Salineas knew the seas and built sleek, magic vessels that could travel to every corner of the world. Transportation and logistics were their arts."

Queen Lyra approached them, her guards staying far back. "Snows taught us all how to survive and how to thrive, but kept apart from the rest of us until just a century or two before the Horde came. But we, my daughter - magicats. We were known for our artisans. Furniture and weapons. Carpentry and textiles. Jewelry and ornamentation. And the heart of this were our silks and our skills with precious metals, and what which we made from ironwood - which came from our lauha trees."

She stepped up next to her daughter and slid an arm around her. "You don't have to tell me what thoughts race through your head, my heart, but know I can listen if you need. I tried to give you and Cloudfoot this moment alone, but - well - I worry."

Catra looked ahead at Cloudfoot.

Catra whispered. She would tell her mother something. It might not ease her worries, but it might make it better. "The jacket was one like my - best friend wore. It's not hers, but…for a minute, I thought…and then…"

She angrily wiped at her traitorous eyes, which were leaking tears. She didn't want to cry right then. Cloudfoot was about to answer her question, and they were walking further down into the castle.

Lyra said nothing. Her lips tightened and her ears went back, but she just clutched Catra's arm.

Cloudfoot gave them both a wan smile over his shoulder. "We are going to go visit one of Halfmoon's most precious secrets and resources. A holdover from far older, maybe better times. The lauha trees, the secrets of growing them and the arts of working with the wood are the heritage of Halfmoon and of magicats, for we learned the secrets. Some say from the Osirians or the Ancients, but history shows us that it was our own ingenuity and study that taught us how to cultivate and shape ironwood."

Catra paused as they came to another set of spiraling stairs - these, she knew went down to the maintenance workshops she'd thought about earlier. "Wait. Is this another secret passage?"

"It is another secret passage." Cloudfoot confirmed, smirking.

Catra sighed. "How many secret passages does this castle have?"

Lyra shrugged. "You should ask Ferrus. He's the civic sorcerer in charge of such things."

Catra had met Ferrus once before, after the coup - she'd liked the gruff sorcerer. He was a very practical man and didn't have patience for much beyond getting his job done or talking about his family.

"I'm gonna." Catra huffed. How did people not know she needed to know every secret passage in the castle? (Beyond the obvious security risk, Catra wanted to know everything she could about the place she spent most of her time!) "Secret passages. Secret temples. What is this going to be? A secret warehouse full of wood?"

Cloudfoot chuckled as they went down the stairs and into one of the workshops - one where furniture was repaired and refinished. At the very back of the workshop there was another set of stairs, leading down to a small room that held four heavily armored guards and heavy indorium panel set into the wall.

As they approached, one of the guards turned and touched a series of bolts in a specific order, and the panel slid open silently. The guards bowed to the Queen and the princess as they walked past into a long, winding hallway carved of polished blue marble and brightly lit by hidden glow panels. It certainly wasn't the kind of dark, dim, or dank secret passage Catra remembered from visiting the Spirit Ember.

"Ironwood is rare and grows under specific circumstances - but once it grows in a place, it can always grow in that place. It draws on minerals in the earth and magic to create a wood harder than most steels, resistant, but pliable, flexible. It is shades of dark red, with blonde, gold, and copper highlights. It can be treated to resist magic, though this requires alchemy. And, though true ironwood is all but impossible to work, but for a gifted few, there are hybrid species that are quite easy to grow and work with. Most of our wood furniture comes from these. Most rare and sought after, once, was lauha heartwood. As we rarely harvested entire trees, mostly preferring to take branches, it has always been rare, but was superlative for magical implements. Weapons and armor and the like. A much darker, richer color and much denser. It was quite receptive to being a channel for magic or worked into something to protect against magic."

Cloudfoot's voice echoed a bit in the cool hallway. Catra saw they passed several doors and alcoves, several of which smelled of sawdust and oil. She heard the sounds of machines working, and figured they were woodworking workshops.

"None of that explains where we get the wood from, Cloudfoot!" Catra could feel it. She knew when someone was working up to a big reveal. She didn't want a big reveal - she just wanted an answer!

"Patience, my heart." Lyra patted her arm. "Let him have this. As Minister of State, this is actually one of his arenas. This is very important to him, and he is very proud."

Catra sighed. Fine. She would wait. But she would make sure Cloudfoot knew she didn't want to.

"Cloudfoot!" Catra leaned forward enough to tap him on the shoulder.

"Yes, Catra?" He looked back over his shoulder.

She smirked at him. "Are we there yet?"

Cloudfoot laughed. "No. But close."

"Ugh. Fine."

Lyra's tail flicked Catra's ear. "Behave."

"Eh. Maybe." Catra shrugged. "I've behaved a lot today. I didn't wear armor - which, that was a one-time thing. Sorry, Momma. My armor is too much me. I let the spooky priestess bless me. I accepted gifts. I didn't yell at anyone or start a single fight. I went to the party. I agreed to let Kittrina borrow Kesi. If I behave much more, I'm going to break out hives."

Lyra rolled her eyes as they came to the end of the hallway. "Then it's a very good thing we're here, my heart. I would not want you to suffer for having behaved all day. On your birthday, no less!"

Catra was a bit surprised not to see any guards, but she also only saw a blank wall. She'd been in Halfmoon long enough to know that didn't mean much. The city, the castle - all of Subtheria was lousy with hidden passages, secret doors, undiscovered or forgotten tunnels.

The Cartographer's Guild was never without work.

Cloudfoot turned. "This was a hidden place when we first inherited the city. It is easy enough to find, though, if you know the ways. It was never meant for what it is now - when we first created the Sanctuary, it was meant as a place to preserve some of the original stock of trees and hybrids - including the pure lauha trees. It was meant as a sinecure against disease or disaster - which, I suppose it was."

Cloudfoot tapped several places on the wall in rapid succession and it moved with a low, slow grinding noise of gears and pulleys. The wall slid aside, and Catra looked out into what could only be described as an underground forest.

The cavern ahead of her was only about a third the size of the massive cave Halfmoon itself was located in, but that was still incredibly vast.

And as far as her eyes could see, there were trees. The tallest of them rose from the forest floor over a thousand feet below her almost to the ceiling, at least that far above her. The trunks were bigger around than some buildings - and the branches stretched out, intermingling with the branches of other great trees. Their wood was a deep reddish-brown, and the leaves were gold and maroon with hints of green here and there. Other, shorter trees, but not less straight and dignified, strained and stretched to reach up to the great heights of the giant, ancient trees around them.

Overhead, magically created daylight shone down on the forest, casting warm, syrupy golden light across the entire forest. She could hear birds and insects, and heard the rustling of leaves and the underbrush.

"Back when Halfmoon was not even a place, there was a great ground quake. Some think it came from the fall of the Fire Kingdom. Others think natural. We believe it happened long, long before that. But this cavern opened up and a huge swath of ground just - fell in. The trees came with it and were reset and replanted into the ground." He gestured around. "Much of the forest fell in with it. The Osirians who built the city sealed this section of the forest in - we don't know why, but we suspect it was to seal up access to their city, and it made more sense to seal with further out than deeper in. When Halfmoon was founded and this place was discovered, the royals of that era set this up as a preserve for the great trees."

Cloudfoot walked out onto a wide stone path. Catra and Lyra followed - Catra's eyes were wide with shock and awe. She had never seen anything like it. Or smelled anything like it. The air was rich with dirt and leaves and plants, almost overwhelming her.

"The magics of this place - the artificial daylight spell the Osirians left - and the spells they built into the cavern to help the forest grow are what we based our own underground agriculture on. Now, we harvest a few every year and grow more. The hybrids grow quickly, maturing in just a few years each, and they propagate themselves, for the most part. This gives us a steady supply of lumber for many things - as we build mostly with stone, we have more than enough wood. There are four more caverns, much like this one, extending to the east. It is one of the goals of Halfmoon, once we return to the surface, to replant and regrow the great forests that were burned down. To restore some of what was lost. While we cannot replicate the tens of thousands of ancient trees that died, we can rebuild a forest. Eventually."

Catra stared around at the vast expanse of forest. "Is the answer to every question I put off going to be 'secret passage to a secret cave?'"

"No!" Lyra laughed. "Maybe. I have no idea. Halfmoon - our current city - was not ours. We find new places under it and in it all the time! It might very well be many answers are secret passages. This…would have been revealed in time. I'm a little surprise it's taken this long, but we've been busy. And it's not exactly a secret. Most of Halfmoon knows it exists. School groups and others can come through here on trips. There's a whole ecosystem down here, created by the Osirans and maintained by us. Animals, plants - there are ponds, and fish - and even a small lake. The High Temple and a special group of Wardens - sorcerers, scientists and scouts - protect and care for these caves. This one, here, has the densest concentration of true lauha trees, though it is the smallest of the five caverns."

Lyra waved her arm out at it. "Your father asked me to marry him here - very awkwardly, I might add. It was endearing, but he already had my heart. He just never thought himself good enough for it, the foolish man."

There was a fond smile in her voice as she spoke of Cyrus, and Catra wanted to hug herself.

Catra groaned. "So much to learn. Always more to learn. I would ask how many more secrets Halfmoon has, but I know the answer would be confusion, because you don't even know what I don't know, and I don't know what I don't know, so I don't know what to ask to know about!"

Cloudfoot blinked, tilting his head. "I think I followed most of that. That is true, Catra. Very true. Just think, though. Another few years, you will have found your own secrets or created your own secrets, as many princesses do. Still, I do love this place, though I rarely get to spend much time here. It is a reminder, I think, that Halfmoon stands. That all things are possible - that once we are again a free people, we can reclaim much of what we lost, if we are patient enough and determined enough and purposeful enough. We will endure and we will thrive through our endurance, no matter what the Horde does."

Catra looked up hugging herself. Her voice was a hoarse, strained whisper. "Adora would have loved this place. For me - the scents are overwhelming. It's almost too big. Too much. But she would have loved it. The light. The warmth. The trees - the feel of dirt and grass."

Tears poured down her face as she stared out at the hidden forest. As she looked up at trees taller than the castle she lived in. "I thought it was her jacket, tonight. It looked just like hers - but it's not. I didn't know if I wanted it to be hers or not."

Lyra took a step closer to her daughter and Cloudfoot turned, his face - full of something Catra couldn't name. It wasn't pity. Or sympathy. But he cared. He cared deeply that she was hurting, and he was doing the one thing she needed from him. Listening, without asking questions.

"I don't get birthdays. Or magic numbers that mean you're suddenly allowed to be a full person. I don't know how you live with it. How you can - just decide a number matters that much. But birthdays? Celebrating someone just being alive? Adora would have loved that, too. She would go all out on It. Be so awkward about it, so earnest. Do so much to make m - that person feel special. Wanted. Cherished"

Catra couldn't say it aloud, but how could she celebrate another year of being alive when it was the first year she could remember without Adora?

Cloudfoot took a step forward, but he didn't touch her. He just gave a small bow. "Catra. When Aster handed you that jacket tonight, I realized - he was the first, but he should not have been. None of us have given you what you needed. Permission. Permission to hope. Permission to want. Permission to miss them, want them back, and maybe to long for and hope for a reunion. Even if you never speak of it, even if you fear what now may be - "

He gestured wide. "Where there is life, there can be hope. Please, let yourself hope. Please, ask of us what you need to hold onto hope. Please, tell us when and how we can help restore to you what has been lost. Because - as your return has given us hope for our future, we must also give you hope for yours."

Catra didn't know what to say. She had no idea how to even process what Cloudfoot was saying to her. Part of her wanted to snarl - he had no right to talk about the people, the person, she had left behind! She didn't need his permission to miss Adora, want Adora back, hope to have Adora back!

But at the same time, she felt -

It meant something to her that he cared enough to notice. To think about it. That he cared enough to tell her it was okay to feel something for the people she missed. He wasn't asking her to tell her about them. Or even give him anything in return. He was telling her he - and others - didn't blame her or weren't angry with her - for feeling that loss at all.

And it was a loss. Every morning, it was a loss. Every day, she felt the loss. Every night, she was aware Adora wasn't there. She was supposed to be there. Always.

They had promised.

Catra didn't remember sinking to the stone. She didn't remember hugging herself or starting to sob. She did remember her mother kneeling next to her, holding as she cried.

Catra didn't understand why people were excited about birthdays.

Catra's Rooms

Halfmoon Castle

Halfmoon

Subtheria

Just over one year after Catra's abduction

"I don't think I like birthdays. Or magic number theory."

Catra let her mother help her back into her rooms. "I don't know that I can blame you. This one has been a lot for you. What can I do to help, my heart?"

I just want Adora.

She wasn't going to voice that. She wanted Adora, but she didn't want to give up what she had in Halfmoon. She didn't want to go back to the Horde. If there's one thing Aster's gift had reminded her of, it was how terrible things were there.

How much better her life was in Halfmoon.

Why did it mean she had to trade Adora for the good parts?

Because that's what - more than anything - Aster's gift had made her think about. That she had unwillingly been forced to trade the person most important to her for everything good the Horde had taken away from her.

Adora was the one good thing to come out of the Horde. The only person she didn't want to live without from that part of her life.

Her rooms were dark and cool; she was glad to be back there, where she and Melog could crawl under her bed and hide. She needed to hide for a while. Her birthday had been - too much. The next few days were going to be too much, too - going through gifts, figuring out thank you notes, the rest of it.

She needed to hide. To cry where no one could see her or hear her. She needed to be away from people for a bit.

Desperately. She was on the edge of saying things she couldn't take back in ways she knew wouldn't help anything.

She wanted Adora to be here, in Halfmoon, with her. Learning everything with her.

Melog whispered a thought to her, their surprise echoing in her mind - surprise, but not fear. Sitting in the dark, in her 'sitting room,' was a tall figure she recognized from her Coronation.

The grandfather of her twin guards, who were both staring at him in shock, hands on their weapons.

Solon stood, and bowed deeply from the waist, leaning on his cane the entire time. "Your majesty. Your highness. And my grandchildren! Who did not precede their princess into her rooms?"

There was a faint hint of teasing disapproval in his voice, but a warm smile on his face. "Percival let me in and told me to wait here - that her highness had been through quite enough, but might still be able to spare an old friend of her father's a few minutes time."

The tall, stately magicat was dressed simply, but carried as much gravitas and formality as Percival did.

"They know better than to go into my rooms first." Catra did her best not to glare - why was a person she had met once in her rooms without her? She was going to have to have a chat with Percival about this.

Melog flashed thoughts and emotions into her mind. Solon's desire to speak to her without an audience. His distaste for crowds and his desire to give her something important without witnesses. His desire to avoid most of the royal court and castle staff -

And Percival's absolute trust in him. The feeling that Percival knew he would be trouble, but he also knew it was the right thing to do. For whatever reason. Catra was too worn out, too emotional to sort through it, so decided that just this once, she would let Melog decide and she would reconsider it later.

A few days later, maybe.

Lyra smiled. "Solon! You do not have to use my title, damn it! You've known me long enough you get to use to my name, and Catra prefers her name to titles."

Solon's smile grew and he crossed the room slowly to hug the Queen. "Of course, Lyra. And Catra. You look - well, it looks to have been a long day for you. I can come back later, when you are rested."

Catra breathed deep through her nose and set herself, leaning hard against Melog. "No. It's - it's fine. I have a few minutes. My time is going to be all boring and busy for a while. I apparently have to sort out all the gifts I didn't ask for and thank people for thinking of me when they gave me something I likely won't care exists. You know, like a princess."

As soon as the somewhat bitter words left her mouth, she winced. She'd known she was close to saying the wrong thing, but she thought had a bit more tact left in her. Apparently not.

Solon laughed softly. "Oh, oh - princess! You just took me back twenty years. I could hear your father speaking through you!"

Catra looked up at him. "My father?"

Solon smiled. "Indeed. Your father often expressed similar sentiments about royal duties."

He stepped aside, letting Catra and Lyra come into the room and get settled while he took a minute to hug both of his grandchildren.

Catra spied her knife-wielding cleaning bot, powered down in the corner. Somehow, plugged in.

Some help you were. You're supposed to stab people who come in without permission. Then again, it worked for the castle. Percival ran the castle. It might have decided Percival outranked it.

Stupid stabby bot.

Lyra whispered to her, looking over at Solon. "I can ask him to leave, or take him back to my rooms for a bit. Solon was very important to your father, and I trust both him and Percival, but if you've had too much, we can arrange for another time. I know - him waiting here for you probably wasn't the best. Do you want me to call Kesi?"

Catra shrugged. "Nothing today has been the best. I'll talk to him for a bit. Get whatever conversation this is over with, and then go hide. After all, I have to be well rested to sort presents. Let Kesi rest. She'll have to put up with me for however long it takes to deal with it all."

Lyra had Catra sit down on her couch - it wasn't a piece of furniture Catra had originally wanted, but it had come in handy a few times, mostly when she wanted to nap in the middle of the day or wanted a place to stretch out and read when she couldn't sleep.

It was soft and comfortable, smooth enough the upholstery didn't catch on her fur, and it always felt cool. It was an odd shade of blue and didn't fit with the rest of the color scheme of her rooms, but Catra didn't care too much about that. It occasionally made Percival and Kesi twitch, but they'd gotten used to it.

"I didn't realize how upset you were about the gifts - but it makes sense. This would seem excessive to you, egregiously so. I am sorry, my heart. I will make sure you have more help than just you and Kesi and we will make it as easy as we can."

Catra looked over at her. "The only way to make it easy would be to have made sure they never gave me the stuff in the first place. I'll deal. I'll make someone else write the notes and I'll sign them. Best I can do."

"We asked too much of you today." Lyra's voice was a whisper. "And don't you dare argue. We did. Birthdays are a new concept, and for some reason, I think we all expected you to throw yourself into the idea. Despite having resented the idea of legal adulthood since you got here, despite not understanding, we piled a lot on your today and expected you to just understand, even though you kept telling us you didn't. You told me you didn't - and you didn't like the way people acted about your age. I'm sorry, my heart."

Solon came over and sat back down in the chair he'd been in. "I am sorry for intruding, Catra. My grandchildren just informed me I have - violated several boundaries you have ardently enforced about your space and your privacy. It has been a long time since I could not just come to this castle and go where I wished. I served your father as his Seneschal - and before that, as his aide. I overstepped, and I am grateful you chose to let me stay."

Catra forced a smile. "You're welcome. You knew my father, you know Momma - that gives you a lot more leeway than most."

You may have used most of it up, but you had it.

"You have impressed me, Catra - and I am hard man to impress. I know that means little to you, but it is important to me to say it. As most of what people tell you is important to them. They assume it must be important to you, because you are younger than they are, and because you are a princess, and thus - you must care about what they care about."

He shook his head. "Your father would have been - he was a soldier first, and everything else was something he did because it was either the right thing to do or because he needed to do it to be with your mother. He and I grew up in the same neighborhood, though he was over a decade younger - the descendants of immigrants from the Old Clans. Oh, both our families had been here for generations by the time we were born, but the culture of the neighborhood held us together. The expatriate families, celebrating holidays no one else cared about and practicing rituals and customs no one else much cared for. Your father enlisted in the army as soon as he could, like many of us without a trade. He had small magics, and no gift for academics or trade - his family worked construction as contractors as far back as I can remember. But he was a skilled fighter - trained in the fighting arts by the schools in both the far city and the Crescent Center."

Catra got a sense for how old - and old-fashioned Solon was. Most people called the Crescent Center the Crescent Market, now, though it was listed on maps as the Crescent Center. (The name change was held up in a committee.)

He was a soldier first. It echoed in her thoughts. She had been soldier, first - and part of her would always think of herself as a soldier first. Then a warrior. Then - everything else.

I was really bad at being a soldier.

"He met your mother when he served, briefly, as a member of the Guard. Before Askar separated the two, the army and the Guard were one and the same. He met her friend first, as I recall?"

Lyra sniffed. "Ciradyl. More of a rival for the top spot in our class at the Hall than a close friend. We were friends, after a fashion. She teaches there, now, and hasn't voluntarily spoken to me in years, since she realized I wasn't the traditionalist she thought I was."

Solon huffed. "The traditionalists spit on tradition and try to create law to enforce culture. This never works. But, I suppose, they look for guidance in all the wrong place, hoping things will be just to their liking and the rest of us will accede to their wisdom instead of recognizing their traditions fell out of favor because they caused harm. What hurts us should be left behind and what empowers us should be elevated. But every law, culture, tradition should be held to the scrutiny of 'does it harm?' or 'does it add meaning, or help?' This is something your father taught me, Catra. Back when I was a traditionalist. Staunch and foolish, clinging to ways that did nothing but trap me in misery. He taught me to find my own path - and he would be proud that you have spent your year in Halfmoon creating your own path. As he did."

The older man sighed and leaned back in his chair. He gestured at Lyra. "Soon after they met and began - well, I can hardly call it courting, can I? It was more like the two of you decided to spend all your time together, and hang anyone who disagreed. Your father turned down six offers of promotion to officer from enlisted - unheard of! - given to him only because he was linked with your mother and none of the officers in upper command wanted to be seen as slighting the princess' chosen consort." He laughed softly. "Your father did not refuse diplomatically. Finally, Askar took him aside and informed him he was being promoted to officer, so that he did not reflect badly on Lyra. He was jumped - as fair few ranks, much to his annoyance. And I was assigned to him to teach him how to be an officer. I was a clerk, you see. I was never physically able to serve as a soldier, but I served in my own way, and I had worked with both good and bad officers. Soon thereafter, the goblin war began, and your father proved himself time and again against both them and the Horde. Your mother ever at his side, her magics combined with his tactics left our enemies bewildered and defeated."

Catra knew of the brief goblin war - something Cloudfoot believed had been started by the Horde to weaken Halfmoon in preparation for the coup. Askar and her father had stymied that, holding their own against both forces. And eventually pushing both back, taking territory from both.

The goblins had been a problem ever since, but never a massed or organized attack. Raids and the like - her father had killed their most influential warlord and broken their armies. They had fallen to infighting as much as Halfmoon's military after that. Some of the more aggressive clans still tried to harry Halfmoon, but were never successful.

"I tell you this so you understand what I am about to hand you. It is a memo, sent by your father to his top officers, aides, and staff. He was a General by then, because he was married to a Princess. A figure of legend in the military - of a man forced through the ranks against his will, who toiled and drilled with the enlisted soldiers more often than he did the officers. He ate in their mess and until he moved in with your mother, never took officer's quarters. The rules of the social order were not things he cared about - at all. He even took me with him - a crippled clerk, turned into the prince consort's personal steward and seneschal, helping run the castle and influencing the royal court. I was a very good clerk - and my mother had raised me to understand the niceties of upper society. I was a good Seneschal, too. But by tradition, he should have chosen someone very different than me."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a yellowed piece of neatly folded paper, setting it on the table next to him. "It is yours, Catra. In more than one way. It is the announcement you existed - the first written record of your life. He never should have sent it, not until the official announcement your mother was pregnant came from the court, but - he sent this memo, stating that any day his wife had a medical appointment, he would be going to that and not whatever else someone had planned for him, and everyone could just live with it. He would not miss even a single appointment, because his wife and his child were more important. Not in so many words, but the meaning was clear."

Lyra laughed. "I remember that! My fathers were so irritated! The word got out and spread - the official announcement was more like a confirmation!"

"Princess. Catra." Solon looked at her with steady amber eyes. "Your father was a man who lived - and died - on his own terms. Whether as a soldier or a general or a prince. You have come to Halfmoon and you have become a princess on your own terms, as he would have wanted for you. My gift to you is not just the first written proof you exist - a memo stating that your father loved you so much he set everything else aside to see to you - but the knowledge from one who was there. Cyrus defied any rule or tradition or way of doing that he found to get in the way of doing what had to be done - or that caused him pain."

"Or boredom." Lyra leaned her head back. "He ignored anything that would force him to be bored for too long. With a grin."

Catra shrugged at that one. "Makes sense to me. Why do you think I make Kittrina do so much ceremonial crap?"

Solon looked at her calmly. Steadily. "I say these things to you because - your father was the leader, the general, Halfmoon needed in our fights against those who wanted to force us to our knees. He was not the leader many wanted, but by the time they killed him, he was respected for what he had done and how he did it. You may not be the princess some want - the traditionalists, the expansionists. Or even those who want the comfort of seeing a princess continuing the royal line as they have come to expect. Halfmoon will face much in the coming years, as the Horde stirs and more traitors rise. Halfmoon stands, but we stand because we always find a way to be stronger. To grow. To become more. I believe, princess Catra, you are the princess Halfmoon needs. You challenge us, and that - that is what will make us strong enough to face what comes. Much has been said about how you honor your mother's legacy. How you are a Dr'iluth. You also honor your father's legacy, in all the way he would be proud of."

He stood and smiled at Lyra. "I have said what needed saying. I have come as he would have wanted me to, and told her what he once told me - that who and what he was is what people got, and their opinions were not his problem. For now, I am going to find Lenio and Percival and have a drink or three. Princess - I shan't wish you a happy birthday, because I think, from what little I heard, it has been anything but. Instead, I will tell you that I am glad you have returned, and I wish for your next birthday to be one where you make your legal adulthood everyone else's problem, as your father would have said."

Lyra looked up at Solon and rolled her eyes. "And you came to see the little girl you once knew - the one you gave her very first knife, just to annoy Cyrus."

"In my defense, it was wood! And yes. I wanted to see the woman the girl has become, and reassure myself you have survived, princess. And tell you - I am ever at your service, should you need me."

The old magicat bowed and left, and Catra slowly laid down, putting her head in her mother's lap.

Lyra ran her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Tell me, my heart?"

"It's been just over a year since I came here." Her voice was barely a whisper as she rolled over to look up at her mother. "That means it's been just over a year since I've seen her. Over a year since I left her - and I…"

She closed her eyes. "Adora would agree with Solon. To be me, no matter what. It's just so hard. I can't be what everyone else wants, but I can't be what my father was, either. I can't…I need to be something - different. And I know how…I just don't know how to get everyone else to let me without fighting everyone."

Maybe even you.

Solon's visit had crystallized it for her - she had spent the entire day living up to expectations she didn't understand. Changing how she did things, who she was - for people who wanted to mold her into a shape she couldn't even imagine.

If she ever got the chance to have Adora back, she would have be worthy of her. And being worthy of someone like Adora meant - authenticity in way Catra wasn't sure she could get away with.

Lyra shook her head. "No, my heart. I think today has shown me. You must find your own way to be princess. You must find your own way through our traditions and our rules. No more of me asking you not to wear your armor. And no more of us forcing you to sit through parties where people give you things. From now on, we talk to you first and plan these things after. I promise, my heart. I promise."

Catra nodded and snuggled closer. "I'm a warrior, first."

Part of had wanted to say soldier, but Askar was right. She had never been a good soldier - but she was a good warrior. And she was proud of that.

If I ever find her again - I will be worthy of her. It's the only thing I can do.