but is it art?

"The world is burning." 

  "I know." 

  "Everything's changing." 

  "I know." 

  "I'm so scared." 

  "Me too." 

  "I'm so tired." 

  "Me too." 

  "I want this to end." 

  Hands stop shaking once they're clasped in a grounding warmth. Stifled tears flow freely once the first escaped trail is wiped away with a touch as gently reverent as the moonlight's caress. And in an embrace that pulls together the crumbling pieces, it's finally safe to fall apart.

  "I want this to last forever." A whisper, choked and muffled. 

  "Me too." Faraway. But sincere. 

  Sometimes, it's hard to tell where one of them ends and the other begins. 

  At times like this, does it really matter? 

  Later that night, as Glimmer nestles her head on her sleeping girlfriend's chest, the steady rise and fall of a mercifully peaceful slumber soothing her like the rolling tides washing over the windwrought sand, a thought, dumb and crazy, suddenly takes form in her mind. A rogue flicker dancing on the surface of the waves, unanchored, unmoored; reflected in the languid smile it brings across her lips. 

  For the first time in a while, she doesn't try to comend with sleep's lulling current. Wilfully succumbing to the exhaustion weighing down on her lids, she dives into the darkness and dreams of the stars. 

  ---

  "Morning, sleepyhead." 

  "Hrrrrmmm..." 

  Glimmer makes an attempt to roll over, draw the sheets over her head and capture whatever precious fragments of remaining sleep she can get, but she's captured with a kiss to the cheek before she can summon the capacity to move, and immediately any annoyance at being woken up early seems to evaporate into thin air. 

  Besides, it dawns on her once she finally manages to open her eyes, her bleary vision slowly, lazily, bringing her surroundings into focus— it isn't that early. 

  Adora confirms this when she draws open the curtains, allowing daylight to spill through and flood the room in blinding light that Glimmer's eyes once again have to readjust to.  

  Since that night, the thick grey overcast of a gloomy spring has parted ways to a gloriously rose gold summer. She's seen the shift through Adora, too, everyday her smiles looking just a little brighter, her limbs a little lighter. In the loose blitheness of her motions, almost gliding through the simple act of crossing the room, billowing the wisps of hair that fall from her haphazard ponytail and over her near-bare shoulders, Adora may as well be dancing in the clouds. She thinks she might even be able to join her. 

  And suddenly, Glimmer feels awake, propelled out of bed by the inclination that sends an invigorating jolt of glee through her veins. Adora blinks in confusion when she takes her hands, stumbling as Glimmer takes one step back and then to the side, trying to pull her in tow. 

  "What are you—" 

  " Dance with me, you dummy!" 

  " Oh! Right!"

  Adora lets go of one of Glimmer's hands to lead her into a twirl, and now it's Glimmer who stumbles, almost slipping on the marble floor as she trips over her own bare feet. She's caught just in time, and Adora takes the chance to lower her into a dip, sending Glimmer's heart into a mini somersault. Determined to hide this, she drapes one arm around Adora's neck, batting her eyelashes, a jovial attempt at being seductive— but she can't keep in the giggles long enough for it to work, as if she ever had a seductive bone in her body to begin with. 

  They must look so silly . Dancing badly in their bedroom to a nonexistent tune, Adora in sandals as her usual get-up switched out for shorts and a tank top, while Glimmer's still in her giant sleep shirt— but damn it, it's nice to be silly, they deserve to be silly. With a flash of accidental eye contact, Glimmer splutters with laughter, and Adora starts giggling too, a light blush blooming across her cheeks. She's glowing this morning, wrapped in daylight like it doesn't want to let her go, so beautiful it's almost heartwrenching. Happy, fresh— young . 

  She is young, Glimmer reminds herself, as she often has to, we both are. 

  It's then that Adora's smile falters. She looks away, frowning. Something in Glimmer can tell it's not serious, but she furrows her brow in exaggerated concern. "What's up?" 

  "We're not doing this right." 

  "Huh?" 

  "Hold on," Adora purses her lips, like she's trying to hold in laughter, "I've got this." 

  Glimmer takes a step back as Adora lets her go, watching her with a raised brow. She hadn't realised there was a right or wrong way for girlfriends to dance spontaneously in their room, but Adora seems to be preparing something. She clears her throat, smooths down her tank top and her hair, and then bows with a flourish— so low and dramatic that her nose crinkles as her ponytail flops over her face. 

  She should have seen it coming. 

  "Your Majeeeesty ." Adora extends a hand, drawling the title in a voice several octaves lower than her own. "May I take this dance?" 

  Glimmer rolls her eyes. " No ," she answers, in the firmest, most authoritative, incidentally most queenly voice she can muster, swiftly turning away with a swatting motion, "you may not." Adora tries to reach for her hand and she pulls it from her grasp, folding her arms. "Not til you stop calling me that."

  "Aw, Glimmer ." While Glimmer's not nearly as annoyed as she's playing up, her pout melts alongside the rest of her when Adora's arms slide around her from behind. She sinks back into the embrace, tilting her head to accept the wordless apology that comes as a kiss on the cheek. "Sorry," Adora murmurs, "I'll will stop. Eventually. I just love seeing you get all grumpy and flustered ."

  "I am not grumpy or flustered !" Glimmer insists, feeling an unwelcome heat creeping up her face. But she does turn back around, reaching to cup Adora's cheeks, standing on her tip-toes to give her a proper kiss. "Stop being so irresistible while you're at it," she adds, very lightly papping her cheek, "I can't even stay mad at you." 

  "And I can't stop annoying you, so I guess it works out." Adora grins, giving her a peck on the nose. Glimmer sticks her tongue out childishly in response, but honestly, all she really wants to do is to kiss that smile again. And again, and again, and— "—Aaand I just remembered what I actually woke you up for."

  "You mean that wasn't just to annoy me?" Glimmer gets back on her tiptoes, looping her arms around Adora's neck, drawing herself closer once more. Whatever the reason, unless it's that the Horde have invaded Bright Moon or there's cinnamon buns leftover from breakfast, it can probably wait a kiss or two. "You know I like to sleep in."

  "And you know I won't ever deprive you of your lie-ins unless I have to." Adora traces the tips of her fingers up Glimmer's cheekbone, idly tucking back a few stray strands before letting her hand venture up into her hair. It's still growing out; she can't seem to bring herself to cut it. "I'm not that cruel. It's just that your dad's back, and—" 

  "Huh?" Glimmer blinks, her brain functions momentarily halting. "Already?"

  "Yup, Casta's with him, they wanted to know if—"

  Glimmer's already getting dressed, throwing her shirt over her chair (Adora then folds it up and sets it neatly on the bed— they've previously argued over what Glimmer proclaimed The Laundry Chair, and she's usually tried to be more adherent to Adora's affinity for order and tidiness since then) and opting to follow Adora's lead in dressing down with a simple lilac sundress her mom got her a few years ago, that she hated at the time for reasons she can't remember. Adora comes behind her again as she sifts through the closet for her ballet pumps, placing something in her hair; when she catches herself in the mirror, she sees it's a flower hairpin; a pink hibiscus. She forgot she even had that. 

  What she does remember is the pink hibiscus that 'tied together' Adora's terrible 'totally-not-a-Hordeswoman' disguise. There's not a lot else she can recall about the day they first met, just because it was all so chaotic and nonsensical (which really set the theme for the Best Friend Squad's ensuing adventures, in all honesty). She can remember the hatred , that surge of near-murderous anger shooting up through her veins, upon setting eyes on a girl in Horde uniform. She also remembers just hours later, catching a furtive glimpse of that same girl, with a pink hibiscus in her hair, letting her hardened features soften over in a wistful fascination as she watched the villagers go about their joyously simple lives. She's pretty sure that's the first time she felt a flicker of something for the Horde soldier she was supposed to despise, something that doused that visceral fury and bloomed as something else, something equally fervent. 

  The memory momentarily pulls her from her haste. She can see Adora in her reflection. The warmth of her smile, the light of Glimmer's world. The knowing glint in her eye. She remembers too. 

  She turns to see her in person, taking her hand, tangling their fingers, and kisses her hastily like it's their first, desperately like it's their last. It's neither of those, she just really wanted to kiss her. 

  It's funny, she thinks, how the strings of fate can pull the unlikeliest of people together; how two such people can come to harmonise their tunes, dance together to the same melody. 

  How would Glimmer have reacted, back then, if she'd been told it would work out like this? 

There's no way she can go back to that party now. That much she's certain of. 

  She's either shivering or shaking as her unsteady hands fumble to remove her headpiece and garments (which are only slightly easier to take off by herself than they were to put on), letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. She messes up the buttons of her pyjama shirt once, twice, three times, cursing herself under her breath with mounting frustration. All she wants is to go to bed. Maybe after a good night's sleep it'll be like this never happened, things can go back to how they were. 

  (She knows, all too well, that isn't how it works— that things haven't been how they were, how she likes them, in a long time.)

  Frantic eyes flit around the room, trying to find something to focus on, ground herself. Glimmer didn't used to be prone to panic attacks; she's sure she's had more in the past two months than her entire life before then. She tries to remember how her mom had successfully talked her down the one time she started unraveling in front of her. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

  She catches sight of Kowl on the window seat, the stuffed koala-owl toy she's had since she was a baby. One of the few remnants of her childhood she could never bring herself to get rid of, not even when she reached her teenage years and all she wanted was to grow up. She doesn’t know why that’s what brings the tears to her eyes. 

  Inhale, exhale…

  She's okay. She's okay. 

  No, she's not okay. 

  But she will be, she might be, if she can just— 

  Her hand comes up to wipe her eye, but her fingers hover briefly over her lips, where phantom traces of Adora's kiss still linger. 

  She knows, or at least she's been told countless times by countless people, that time is supposed to heal. One day (though no one dares use wording this crass), she'll get over her mom. One day, she'll get over Adora. One day, she'll grow up. 

  Her eyes fall on Kowl again. Then she picks it up and throws it across the room, as hard as she can manage. It doesn't go very far, and she doesn't feel any better. She watches, chest heaving, as it misses the wall, landing on the floor a few metres before it— and she stares and stares at that wall until her vision blurs, her legs give way under her, and she clamps her shaking hand over her mouth as calculated breaths roll out as choked, pathetic whimpers. 

  Inhale, inhale, inhale— 

  A knock.

  The sound pulls her back to the surface, but the voice that follows wrenches a gasp that tears out what little air she could draw into her lungs. 

  "Glimmer? Are you okay?"

  ...Yeah, no, she needs more air. 

  She teleports without much regard for where she's going, emerging from the light midair and landing on her butt on the snow-covered concrete of some unmanned parapet. 

  It's cold . That’s the first thing she realises when she comes to her senses. The fresh layer of snow beneath her numbs her bare hands, her cosy pyjamas not nearly cosy enough to withstand the icy wind that howls in her ears, tousles her hair. She didn't even have the sense to put shoes or slippers on over her socks. Smart thinking, Glimmer. Truly the pragmatic mind of a Queen-to-be. 

  Yet, it's only up here that she manages to steady her breathing. She grasps the wall, dragging herself to her feet. She's shivering, but she's okay. She thinks. 

  When the urge to cry rises, she doesn't try to stop it this time, the turmoil she releases with every sob carried away with the blustering wind. She doesn't even know what she's crying about anymore. She's crying about nothing, she's crying about everything, she's numb and she's hurting and she's alone and she's cold , so very very cold. She's lost track of time altogether by the time the snow crunches behind her.

  Adrenaline surging through her frozen limbs, she pulls her head from her arms, snapping round to be greeted with a looming figure, a mass of billowing golden hair. 

  Adora.

  (Well, kind of.)

  "Did you really transform into She-Ra just to get up here faster?" Glimmer asks her, having to raise her voice as the storm flares up around them like a freezing inferno. Her teeth are chattering. She can barely move. As the adrenaline leaves her, she's left too cold to think. She can barely even see. 

  "I wasn't sufficiently dressed," Adora bellows back, unaffected as a huge gust lifts her cape and hair, the assault of snow melting on her upon contact, "and neither are you , Glimmer! Come here, you must be freezing ."

  All other thoughts are subdued by just how much she needs to be warm right now. She summons whatever strength she has left to stumble into Adora's extended arms, enveloped in her warmth. She-Ra's warmth. 

  (She prefers Adora.)

  Once she's able to, she teleports them both back inside. Adora, releasing her She-Ra form and closing the window she must have climbed out of, leads Glimmer to sit down on the cushioned window seat, finding a blanket and pulling it around her shoulders. Glimmer's already sufficiently warmed up, but she snuggles up anyway, watching Adora with a newfound calm that warms her insides too.

  "You seem pretty lucid," Adora says, pressing two fingers to Glimmer's wrist to check her pulse,"and your pulse rate is normal. You probably weren't out there long enough for hypothermia to set in, thankfully. Seriously, Glimmer, what were you thinking , going out in that in your pyjamas? If you needed space you could have just told me to go away."

  Glimmer finds herself smiling, in spite of herself. She knows Adora's nagging comes from a place of caring; she almost wants to tell her she sounds like her mom. "I don't think I was thinking." 

  " Clearly ." Adora rolls her eyes, lightly papping her cheek; her mouth is twitching up, like she's trying not to smile herself. "If I go and get you a hot drink, can you promise me you're not gonna go take a swim in the lake or something while I'm gone?" 

  Glimmer playfully rolls her eyes. "I'll try my best." Adora glowers at her, and she bites back a laugh and relents. "Fine, I promise! I'll be right here, okay?" 

.

As Adora slips out, Glimmer notices the plate of party food on the side table, a whole a whole assortment of her favourites. The gift hidden in her desk drawer suddenly feels even lamer in comparison, and something she thinks might be guilt curls in her belly. She really hopes Adora comes back soon. 

  And she does, cradling a cup of chamomile tea. Glimmer accepts it gratefully, motioning over her now half-empty plate as Adora hovers awkwardly before her. "Do you wanna share?" It's a coded invitation to stay, hopefully not laced with the desperation she feels. 

  "I don't think I could eat another bite," says Adora, shrugging off her scabbard and setting the sword aside (that Glimmer cannot believe she brought to a party, but then it's Adora so she guesses she can) before sitting down next to her, though her posture remains stiff, like she's still preparing to leave, like she doesn't know if she should be here at all, "and Bow mentioned you hadn't had dinner after Perfuma told us you said you weren't feeling well, so I thought I'd…" She looks at her hands. "Sorry, I know you um, probably wanted space, I was just going to give it to you and leave, if you wanted me to, but then you were gone and—" 

  "It's lucky you knew where I went," Glimmer interjects. She reaches out, hesitates, then settles her hand on Adora's shoulder. "Look, it's okay , Adora. I probably would have froze otherwise."

  "I'm still sorry." 

  "Don't be." 

  She has a feeling it's not just that she's apologising for. 

  A silence falls over them. Glimmer retracts her hand as Adora shifts around, settling properly across from her. 

  As someone who's had trouble making friends until recently, it's only with Adora that Glimmer came to accept and even enjoy amicable silences. Silences that don’t make her anxious, that she doesn't feel the need to fill for fear of being awkward or boring, where two people can just bask quietly in the pleasure of each other’s company.

  This isn't one of those silences, though. It's heavy, almost crushing, weighed down with things left unsaid; the elephant in the room may as well be sitting on her chest. 

  "It never snowed in the Fright Zone," Adora says after a while. "The smog always got worse during the winter, though. Sometimes you can’t even go out for more than a few seconds without a vog mask." 

  "That...wow." It's far from the worst thing Glimmer's heard about the Fright Zone, but it's still kind of unfathomable. Having grown up in a queendom proudly devoid of pollution, she can't imagine not even being able to safely breathe the air around her. She’s glad Adora got out of there. "It snows every year here. Always around the same time, which is why we centre the Solstice season around it. It's...honestly kind of annoying." 

  "I think it's beautiful." 

  As Adora says this, Glimmer follows her gaze to the blizzard outside, which is ebbing down to a more steady snowfall. She watches the flakes dance in the wind like stardust, settling over the landscape in layer upon fluffy layer of pure white that almost seems to glitter in the moonlight. It's the exact same thing she's seen countless times, but it's like her perspective has shifted through the mesmerised earnesty of Adora's words. Like she's seeing it through her eyes. 

  Then, she looks at Adora, at her profile betraying an almost childlike fascination, the silvery lunar glow softening and highlighting her features in all the best ways. 

  She can still faintly hear the party they're both supposed to be attending, but the more she watches Adora and the snow the less anything else seems to matter. No past, no future, just her, Adora, and a sleeping world enshrouded in white. 

  "Yeah," she murmurs, "I guess it is." 

  Soon enough, the world will reawaken. The snow will freeze over and melt, where it's not already been cleared from roads and walkways or trampled by the shoes of leaving partygoers. It'll dissipate to grey-brown mush then, soon enough, nothing at all. 

  She it’s necessary, that the world has to keep on turning no matter what it tarnishes, but to Glimmer's selfish side, it all seems so unfair. Why does everything have to be so fleeting?

  "You know," she adds, "I bet Frosta wouldn't mind us crashing at hers, if you really like the snow— like, obviously once all of the, um, Horde stuff has blown over. We could go skiing." 

  "Yeah." Adora smiles a little, and it occurs to Glimmer she probably doesn't actually know what skiing is. "That would be nice." 

  She wants to show Adora all her favourite places, showcase the best of Etheria to the girl who’s thrown herself into saving a world she barely knows outside of the dismal corner of it she was raised in, and she wants to experience them all over again with her by her side. Skiing in the Kingdom of Snows; swimming by the Crystal Falls; a picnic in Serenia; tea at that cute cafe in Glenmar, run by a rumoured ex-Hordesman who's managed to embrace a peaceful family life. The fantasies flicker through her mind like a flip book, all vague and innocent and kind of dumb, in a future too optimistically idyllic to even bear thinking about.

  (It ends with a flashback to her conversation with Casta. How she and the girl she loved were going to go to Silaneas. Who was she? Does Casta even remember her name?) 

  "I hate this uncertainty," Adora says, so quietly it's hard to tell if she's talking to Glimmer or just thinking out loud, "not knowing what's going to happen." 

  "Mmm." Glimmer hums. "I really wish we had something to go on. I don't think even Shadow Weaver knows what's going on unless she's giving us the runaround."

  Adora sighs. "Yeah, no, she doesn't have a reason to lie, she wants to bring down the Horde as much as we do. She's not as hard to read as everyone thinks, Glimmer.” She turns to her with a little smirk, trying to bring a little light back into the conversation. “You just have to weigh out how much the situation benefits her ." 

  "Yeah, it’s...weird, she's actually been... really helpful? I know more about my magic than ever thanks to her." She grimaces, almost physically pained by having to talk positively about Shadow Weaver. "It kind of sucks, actually, I have been itching for round two." She straightens herself, palming her fist (a precarious thing to do while she's still holding her tea), and feels her heart do the happiest of little flips as Adora unexpectedly snorts with laughter. She'd missed Adora's laugh. She'd missed being the one to make her laugh. "What? I could take her!"

  "I've know you can take her, dumbface. I still wish I'd been conscious to witness it." Glimmer can see her eyeing the party snacks and pushes the plate over. Adora picks up a mooncake and takes a huge bite, continuing to talk through the mouthful. They're presumably not taught about that kind of etiquette in the Horde, but Glimmer's honestly the last person to care. It's just another one of Adora's weirdly cute little quirks that might only be cute because it's Adora. "Sorry, it was calling to me, I couldn't resist— oh, these are so good. "

  "My face isn't as dumb as her sweater," Glimmer grumbles. It's really hard to keep playing grumpy while she watches Adora's typically theatrical reaction to good food. Even after months of living here, Adora's still so enthralled by some of the little things, and even after months of witnessing these reactions, even when she herself takes most of these things for granted, the joy always seem to rub off on Glimmer. 

  (She could never take Adora for granted.) 

  "Oh, that reminds me—" As Adora reaches into the inner pocket of her suit jacket (Glimmer is definitely not going to take the sight of Adora in a suit for granted), Glimmer can only wonder what could possibly be in there that reminisces with Shadow Weaver's stupid sweater. 

  What she produces, finally, is a little box.

  A very familiar little box, right down to the now slightly smooshed... bow on top. 

  Hmmm .

  "Adora." Glimmer quirks an eyebrow in feigned ignorance. "That's gotta be a really small sweater." 

  "Yeah, no, you sharing your food, then the talk of ugly festive sweaters, just got me thinking about festivities in general, goodwill and all of that— and that made me remember... this, um—" She holds out the box, looking away bashfully. "Weird train of thought, you know? Sorry, I, uh, haven't really— done this before…" 

  Usually, people don’t exchange gifts until morning, but there's no use pointing that out. "Uh, hang on, we should probably do this at the same time," says Glimmer. She sets the tea she's been steadily sipping safely aside as she gets up, leaving her blanket discarded on the seat while she retrieves Adora's gift from her desk drawer; realisation crosses Adora's features as soon as she sees the box, fashioned with an identical bow. 

  "Did..." 

  "Yup," Glimmer confirms, "he insisted on it. Right down to the wrapping." 

  They exchange gifts, along with playful eye rolls directed towards Bow and his meddling, and their own inabilities to settle on gifts for each other without it. Glimmer can only watch from the corner of her eye while Adora opens her, feeling a familiar heat rising up her cheeks. She doesn't know why this is making her so nervous— Adora already pretty much knows what it is. 

  It's a bracelet. A simple gold chain, fashioned with a ruby charm Bow showed her how to painstakingly whittle down into a faceted star. 

  ("Why a star?" he'd asked her, and she'd made some dumb (and in hindsight maybe kind of insensitive) 'out of this world' joke because she was too embarrassed to explain the actual reason.) 

  "Oh, Glimmer." She holds it up to the light, watching how it reflects off the deep red of the jewel. "It's so pretty." 

  Adora's gift to Glimmer is, as she suspected, almost identical. Silver chain, and the charm is a moonstone whittled into a crescent moon, which she supposes makes more immediate sense. On one hand, she's grateful, to both Bow and Adora, she'll treasure this, she already knows that for certain, but on the other— 

  Did Bow really have them make each other friendship bracelets? Adora obviously has the same thought, Glimmer sees it when she accidentally meets her eye as she opens her mouth to thank her— and they both fall into a fit of giggles.  

  It's not that funny, it might not even be funny at all, but there are tears of laughter in the corners of Glimmer's eyes by the time she looks up again. Her cheeks already hurt from smiling more than she has in a long time. 

  She’s a little surprised Adora seems to know what a friendship bracelet is. Maybe it's one of those things that's universal with kids everywhere, like playing tag or drawing that weird S thing all over their school books. There's one likely person Adora would have exchanged them with, though, and...no, she's not entertaining that thought.

  (Bow was actually the one to introduce the concept of friendship bracelets to her, back when they were two dumb kids with stars in their eyes and Glimmer's mom was still there to handle all the important stuff, the high stakes stuff. They wove each other's bracelets from string, and wore them until they began to fray and unravel and they both came to the unspoken agreement to give them up. She supposes when it comes to these bracelets made of silver and gold, the chains or the clasps might just snap eventually. She supposes it kind of does reflect how friendships work, or at least how they end.) 

  "Can you help me put this on?" Adora asks, fumbling with the clasp. "It's really— oh, thank you." 

  Adora helps her fasten hers too, and they both hold their wrists up to each other's for comparison. Glimmer starts giggling again, until she realises Adora isn't. 

  "Hey." Glimmer reaches over to poke her nose, which seems to rouse her attention. "What's up?" 

  Adora pokes hers back, and grins far too wearily to be reassuring as Glimmer does the inevitable nose crinkle. "Sorry, I'm just…happy."

  "Happy?" She's something , but Glimmer isn't sure if happy is the word. Nostalgic, maybe. For the nights in Glimmer's room where the world was still and the moons were their company, where they could talk about anything and everything without the tension, without the damn elephant. 

  (Fearful, terrified, that the comforting familiarity they've found in each other is crumbling, giving way to an uncertain future.)

  "Festive spirit." Adora shrugs, and they're both momentarily distracted as, as if on cue, a distant cheer can be faintly heard erupting from the ballroom, the music rising in volume to the point that Glimmer can tell what song it is. It must be time for the dance. 

  "You can go back if you want." Don't go. Not now. Not yet. Not like this. "I'm okay now. I'll be okay."

  "I'd rather be here. If you want me to." Adora's hand finds Glimmer's, hesitating over it, her smile wavering; Glimmer can see right through the cracks forming across her composure, and it pulls at what she keeps trying to bury with a panic that tightens her throat. Not now, not yet. "I've...really missed you, Glimmer." 

  "I've missed you too." Glimmer's fingers slide through Adora's, like the resurgence of an old instinct. Her gaze drifts to the window. The snowfall has slowed, enough that she can follow an individual snowflake until flutters out of view. "I'm...sorry I've been so absent lately, I've just been really...in my own head, I guess. It's...hard to explain." 

  "It's fine." Adora sighs. "I can't really blame you after...everything."

  Glimmer's eyes widen. Her heart sinks. "Adora..."

  “Sorry, sorry, I—” Adora lets out something that sounds like a laugh, but it's bitter, completely humourless, muffled into the hand she brings over her mouth. It sounds more like she's about to cry. "I always have to go and ruin it, don't I?" 

  "Hey, no—" But Adora's already pulled her hand away, closing in on herself. "Come here." Glimmer's slow in her movements, allowing Adora the chance to reject the comfort at any point, first gently taking Adora's wrists, trailing her hands to her shoulders, then, finally sliding her arms around her, pulling her in like a lifeline. Adora makes no move until she returns the embrace, hiding her head in Glimmer's shoulder as she clings to her with a desperation that harrowingly reminds Glimmer of herself on that first night, her breathing shallow and rushed as much as it sounds like she's trying to steady it. 

  "I'm sorry." Adora whispers, the quivering distress in her words wrenching the tightness in Glimmer's throat. "For everything. I'm so sorry." 

  "You need to stop apologising," Glimmer says, and it might come out more harshly than she means it too. She runs her hand up and down Adora's back, trying to communicate through her touch that she didn't mean it that way. "It's not your fault, none of this is your fault." 

  In the whole two months, they've only kind of managed to talk about what happened. Adora knows that it isn't her fault, that Glimmer's mom made her own decision to sacrifice herself in place of Adora. But knowledge isn't acceptance. The guilt will chip away at her, sullying her every interaction with Glimmer, pulling her away in the currents of time, in the waves of grief, until, unless—

  Unless Glimmer can hold on. 

  And she can hold on, she will hold on. 

  She can't let this end. 

  Not now, not ever. 

  "I love you," she says. It slips out among the typical affirmations, the it's okay 's and I'm here 's, before she's aware of the words taking shape in her mind. "I love you," she repeats, "I love you." 

  Soon enough, Adora's breathing steadies out, but her pulse doesn't slow, its rhythm reverberating even through the layers of clothes between them. Her arms are around Glimmer as she draws herself back, leaning her forehead against hers. Glimmer, suddenly, is aware of her own pulse, picking up in turn. It's the good kind of heart racing, she thinks, she hopes. She wonders if their hearts are in sync. She wonders how long it's been since she last thought about that. 

She’s about to ask, stupidly, if Adora’s okay, until Adora’s words knock her right off course.

  "I've never kissed anyone before tonight," she confesses quietly, her lips twitching in a stifled laugh. "I don't know what I was thinking. I’m—" She bites back the apology. “I probably...shouldn’t have done that.”

  Glimmer's always tentative about touching Adora's face. She knows she doesn't like it, and she's pretty sure she knows why. But as Glimmer lingers her hand over her cheek, silently requesting permission, Adora actually leans into the touch, closing her eyes briefly with a releasing sigh. "I kissed you too," she points out softly, "it takes two to tap dance, or whatever that dumb phrase is." 

  A light dusting of pink rises up Adora's cheeks. She places her hand over Glimmer's, holding it where it is, her fingers calloused yet her touch feather-light where she runs her thumb across the smoother skin of a hand that's never wielded a sword. "I'm so embarrassed," she almost whispers, "Everyone was staring, I don't know, I just— did I even do it right?" 

  "Shh." Glimmer soothes, bringing her other hand up to Adora's other cheek. "I wouldn't know." She pauses. Her heart is pounding, her skin is tingling, the butterflies finding their home in her stomach — the good kind, definitely the good kind. "I mean," she adds quietly, so quietly even the omnipresent reach of the moons can't eavesdrop, the moment theirs and theirs alone, "we could always try again." 

  When their lips meet, the white and red sparks dancing between them mingle and merge into one unified light that glows and grows, so warm she momentarily forgets what it is to be cold, so vitalising she momentarily forgets what it is to be afraid. It's hard to define a moment. It could have been a second, it could have been an eternity. And when she opens her eyes, Adora is still there in front of her, eyes sparkling and a soft, bashful smile gracing her features that Glimmer swears, then and there, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

  Silence falls over them again after that. The best kind of silence, filled with warmth and butterflies. They find a settled position neither of them are going to move from anytime soon, Adora resting against the cushions behind her, Glimmer resting across her with her head on her chest. She could stay here forever. 

  “Glimmer?” Adora chimes softly. 

  “Hm?”

  "I love you too. Did I mention that already? I’m not sure I did." 

  Glimmer lets out an amused huff, shifting ever so slightly to drape her arm across Adora's waist. "It’s okay. I kind of gathered." 

  "I wish I'd told you before.” Adora sighs. “Even before...any of this, I was just…" 

  "Scared?" Glimmer's eyes flicker up to meet Adora's. 

  "Scared. Confused. Not sure whether you... I actually confided in Bow before the party and he gave me this big pep talk that got me all psyched up. It...probably wasn't the best time to confess anyway, in hindsight, and I didn't account for that whole mistletoe thing—" 

  Well, that explains the way Bow was looking at them when Adora took her aside. 

  "That's…" Glimmer lets out another amused huff. "Very Bow. I got my pep talk from Mermista ." She groans to herself. "You know it's bad when Mermista gets involved."

  “Oh, wow .” Adora groans as well, comedically dramatic. "Why are we like this, Glimmer?" 

  "We're dumbfaces. Both of us. The dumbest faces in Etheria." She pokes Adora's nose again. "And...you know, there's...actual reasons, that are still there.” Ah, there you are, reality. “I don't know if we can, like, feasibly...be...a thing." 

  "Do you want to?" 

  "What?" 

  "Be a thing?"

  "I mean…" Glimmer feels a familiar leap of trepidation in her chest, but it's dwarfed by the conviction of the real answer. "Yeah. I do. I really do."

  "Then we'll make this work." 

  "How?" 

  "We improvise." Glimmer snorts , pulling herself up slightly to lightly shove Adora's shoulder, and Adora’s jaw drops as she pretends to be offended. “What? It’s how we do everything else!”

  “You’re such a dumbass,” says Glimmer, and it’s true, but she makes a compelling point — and Glimmer, is, well, also a dumbass. They’re perfect for each other. 

  "Can I be  your dumbass?" Adora does an excruciatingly cute kissy face and Glimmer rolls her eyes, trying to hide the giant smile tugging her lips. 

  “I guess .” She’s smiling, contrary to the poorly feigned reluctance of her words. She can’t stop smiling. 

  They solidify the decision with another kiss, and it's familiar now, so familiar Glimmer wonders why she was ever scared in the first place. The world is theirs, and it's boundless. They can take it all on in their stride; soar over the moons and dance in the stars.

  Obviously, there's plenty of reasons to be scared. Her and Adora have far more to work through than can be dealt with in one night, both together and as individuals. The future remains uncertain, and Glimmer still bears the burden of Bright Moon and the Rebellion and her own persisting grief on her weary shoulders, and Adora may have multiple worlds on hers. 

Breakfast is sitting, stone cold, by the window seat (confirming it was probably Casta who came in earlier). She eats it slowly, her eyes transfixed on the view outside, over what's soon to be her queendom. It hasn't snowed in a few days, and most of the snow that remains on the ground has been trodden to brownish mush, a bleak landscape overcast by a bleak grey sky. 

  Tonight, she will deliver the Solstice Sermon in place of her mom. Tonight, she will go through her first Solstice without her mom, and her last Solstice as a Princess. 

  She leans her forehead against the window, hoping the cold from outside will somehow seep through the double glazing and provide some semblance of relief from the painful drumming in her head. 

  Her ceremonial robes hang over one of her chairs, the notes for her Sermon laying in a haphazard pile-type thing across her desk. She'll need to rehearse it some more at some point today, until she can at least picture that she's in front of an audience of her future subjects and political allies without her voice quivering. She's not sure how anyone expects her to be ready for any of this when she can barely bring herself to get ready for the day, even though all she does is wash up and throw on her usual clothes (probably best to save the robes for tonight). Her eyes fall on her gift for Adora just as she's on her way out, and she takes a moment to shove it into one of her desk drawers so she doesn't have to look at it again until tomorrow. Out of sight, out of mind. 

  By this point it feels like her head is splitting, so the first place she goes is to the medical office to look for painkillers.  What she doesn't expect to find is Mermista in there already, rifling through the cupboards for the exact same thing. 

  Oh, yeah. The others are still here. 

  "Word of advice, Glimmer," Mermista says instead of a greeting, holding her head with a visible grimace, "do not try to drink Seahawk under the table, it's really not going to happen."

  "Wasn't planning to, but good to know," says Glimmer, flopping back on what's usually the medic's chair (there ideally should be someone in here, but she doesn't care enough to sort that right now), "have you found anything?" 

  Mermista groans. "I was kind of hoping you'd know where they are. Don't you live here?" 

  "Well, yeah, but I've never really needed medicine." Glimmer shrugs. "Immortal mom and all." 

  "Oh." Mermista's shoulders slump. "Yeah. Sorry." As if she has to apologise if Glimmer's mom is so much as mentioned. She finally finds some painkillers, swallowing a couple down with some water before handing them across to Glimmer. "So, what, were you there last night? I literally can't remember, holy ow ." 

  "I wasn't, but I'm kind of starting to wish I was." She shakes her head, the corners of her lips actually twitching up in amusement at the thought of a very drunk Mermista. "I might just be stressed." 

  "About the speech?"

  "The speech. The Horde. General queen stuff." She pauses to take the painkillers. Realises she's too much of a wuss to swallow them whole. Snaps them in half and tries again. "Adora." 

  "You're still hung up on the Adora thing?" Mermista slides the glass of water back to herself once Glimmer puts it down. She occupies herself with idly swirling her finger above the glass, creating a mini vortex in the water. Like she's totally not actually invested in this, obviously . "Have you considered, like, talking to her?" 

  Glimmer sighs. Even if Mermista is marginally less condescending than Shadow Weaver, she really doesn't have the time or energy to deal with advice from people who just don't get it. "What I said, Mermista? About losing her? That's exactly why I can't talk to her." 

  "Urgh, Glimmer ." Mermista groans again, throwing her head back dramatically (which can't have helped her headache). "Look, I know we don't talk much or whatever, and that this is, like, none of my business. But I've seen what you and Adora have, and honestly, I'm pretty sure you two are gonna survive anything at this point." 

  "I'm not scared about her dying , Mermista." Well, now I am.  

  "Yeah, duh . You're scared of losing what you have now. Like if you confess your massive crush and she doesn't feel the same way, things are gonna get weird between you." 

  "Hey, I don't have a—" Ugh, who is she even kidding at this point? "Yeah. I guess." 

  "Or say she does feel the same way, and you take the next step, but things don't work out, and then things get weird." 

  "...Yeah." Probably the less likely of the two.

  " Or maybe the feelings themselves scare you. Things were comfortable and familiar, but now your feelings turning into something new, and different, and weird. You've never actually done this before, have you, Glimmer?" 

  "Um. No." 

  "Okay. So. This…" Mermista gestures vaguely. " Thing that you guys have—?"

  "Friendship?" Glimmer asks, raising a brow.

  "It's more than that. It's like...this connection , you just vibe with each other, like you've known each other your whole lives. I sensed it like, the day I met you two, and you know me, I'm not one for reading energies or auras or whatever. You don't come by something like that easily, Glimmer, and it's not lost easily either. Like, urgh , I wish I had that with Seahawk. Why am I even dating that guy?" 

  Glimmer often wonders the same thing, but it's probably rude to do so aloud, and it's far from the first thing on her mind. How is Mermista , of all people, managing to conceptualize this better than Glimmer herself ever could? "Yeah, I guess you're right," is what she says instead.

  "I know I'm right. But here's the thing: you notice what's happening between you and Adora now?" 

  "What?" 

  "Things. are getting. weird ." 

  "Yeah. They are." 

  "Because you're pushing her away."

  "I'm n— it's not just that," Glimmer interjects defensively, her heart rate rising, "it's...complicated, okay?"   

  "Talk out the other stuff too, then." Mermista flashes her a look. "Or this is only going to get worse." 

  "But what if—" 

  " Urgh , don't even start with that. When have you ever let 'what if' stop you before?" 

  Wow, Mermista almost sounds...passionate. She's even looking at Glimmer, making actual eye contact. If she's trying to convince her, it's definitely working. The bleak cloudcover are lifting, and things suddenly look a little better illuminated in the light. Even her headache isn't as bad now, but maybe that's just the painkillers kicking in. 

  "Anyway, the queen stuff," Mermista continues, bringing her attention back to the water, "I...can't imagine what you're going through right now with like, your mom and stuff. There's no way you could've prepared for any of this, you didn't ask for any of this. Like, I was basically in political training as soon as I was forming coherent thoughts, I thought I wanted to 'cause I didn't have another choice, and then my eighteenth birthday rolled around and I still didn't feel ready. To be honest, I still don't feel like I know what I'm doing a lot of the time. Like, no one knows what’s going on or what’s gonna happen, with like, the Horde and the war and stuff. It... really sucks, Glimmer, no one's gonna pretend it doesn't, but no one expects you to go through this alone either. We've all got your back. Even me. Just, you know, as long as you don't expect too much." 

  "Wow. Um." Glimmer's so touched and dumbfounded that for a moment, that's all she can say. Mermista glances her way expectantly, quirking a brow, and that's when she manages to speak again. "Mermista, can I...hug you?" 

  Mermista rolls her eyes, which is pretty much what Glimmer expects, but it's light-heartedly, accompanied with a smile, an actual smile — and instead of telling her don't push it or something Mermista-esque like that she actually holds out her arms, beckoning Glimmer towards her. "You," she says into Glimmer's shoulder, as she almost throws herself into Mermista's arms before she can change her mind, "are so lucky I'm still a little drunk." 

  She gives her a reassuring little squeeze then pulls back, patting Glimmer's arm. "Now go talk to Adora, you moron." 

  --- 

  There's a particular photo of Glimmer and her mom that Bow would lose it over every time he saw it. The photographer for whatever media outlet it was happened to arrive right in the middle of one of their shouting matches, forcing mother and daughter to put a lid on the issue and play happy families while they were both still seething to the brim. Her mom is successful in this, at least outwardly, managing to resume her flawlessly serene demure— while Glimmer's smile is so cheesy, so strained, so obviously fake that it looks like someone's pulling her cheeks back. 

  This whole day feels like that photo, only now, nobody's laughing. 

  Glimmer has mostly managed to avoid the media in the past couple months, and before then it was always her mom who dealt with them. But this year's Winter Solstice is considered an even bigger affair on account of everything that's happened since the last, and it's not only the media she has to play her part in front of as she finds herself at the forefront of the remaining preparations. Learning but competent, somber but emotionally sound— she can only hope she teeters the line more convincingly than she'd smiled in that damn photo, since her mind seems to be floating around somewhere else entirely. 

  It occurs to her, as she steals some time alone to practice the Sermon, that her mom must have gone through something similar after her dad… Then again, at least she was already an established queen. At least people believed in her. She presumably believed in herself.

  She doesn't get a chance to talk to Adora. The hours go by faster than she can keep track of them, each motion she acts out before her audience chipping away at the surge of confident optimism she gained from the conversation with Mermista. Come nightfall, as she stands before her bedroom mirror, attempting to go through her notes one last time as Casta helps with the finishing touches of her robes (it's definitely regal attire when it takes an extra person to put it on), she feels like each and every defensive layer has been peeled away by scrutinizing eyes, mounting anxiety, what if what if what if. Everything she realises she'd blocked off in order to function through the day has caught up with her and paralysed her right here in the moment, too in the moment, and she's pretty sure she's never felt more lost. 

  She really wishes her mom was here. Telling her what to do.

  "Your hair's getting quite long, dear." Casta's voice draws her attention to her own reflection, where Casta stands behind her, holding out a strand to show its length. Her hair has gotten a little longer, long enough that it's starting to weigh itself down rather than sticking up and out, a loose wavy bob stopping inches above her shoulders. 

  If it was longer, a lot longer, she would almost look like…

  "Shall I tie it back?" Casta asks her, already holding up another strand, trying to figure out what to do with hair that's probably long enough to tie back but not enough to do very much with. 

  "Just leave it like this." She runs her hands through her hair as Casta lets it fall, combing it behind her ears. "I should probably get it cut soon anyway." 

 It's the first time, she's pretty sure, she's worn a dress that reaches the floor. Definitely the first time she's dressed nearly this lavishly. She feels smaller, somehow. More vulnerable.

  She thinks about the Princess Prom. Then she thinks about Adora. 

  She thinks about when everything was so much simpler. 

  Casta places the headpiece over Glimmer's hair, the silver glinting in the light, matching the colour shift of the gossamer fabric of her outer robe, and she wonders if she'll ever get any of that back. 

  "Oh, Glimmer, you look so regal ," Casta remarks delightedly, clasping her hands; her smile falters when she sees Glimmer's expression in the mirror. "Is something the matter, dear?" 

  It's Casta who always looks regal, almost effortlessly so. That elegant confidence just seems to come naturally to her, in her posture, in her demeanor; the authority just radiates from her. 

  Casta is also a person, though. That’s how Glimmer knows her. She's pretty, she's nice, she cooks well. But she rarely left Mystacor before she joined the Alliance, where she lives among people who look up to her, a leader first and foremost. 

  Does it ever get lonely up there?

  "Have you ever been in love, Casta?" 

  Glimmer's question is so out of nowhere it causes her aunt to draw back, her expression falling further as her composure momentarily crumbles; it's hard to tell what emotions Glimmer's elicited— what memories she's dug up, if any. 

  "You don't have to tell me," she adds quickly, suddenly feeling guilty, "sorry." 

  "There was someone," says Casta, now taking Glimmer by surprise, "but it was a very long time ago." 

  "What happened?" Glimmer wills herself to ask. 

  "We made all these plans together. We were going to go to Salineas. I always wanted to see the ocean." Casta turns from the mirror, eyes downcast, but Glimmer can still see it in her profile: that far-off, wistful melancholy that clouds her features the rare times she lets herself reminisce about the past. "But this was around the time Micah left Mystacor to be with your mother, and I was appointed Head Sorceress in his place. My future was no longer about me, much less us. I was so busy trying fill my brother's shoes that we...well, we drifted. She ended up leaving Mystacor herself not long after." 

  Glimmer's heart sinks. She swallows. "Do you miss her?" 

  "I still think about her often, but I know I made the right choice. I had to prioritise." Casta's eyes widen and she suddenly whirls back to the mirror, like she just realised the implications of her story. "—But of course it's not the same for everyone. Just look at…" 

  "My parents?" She picks up her dad's staff where it's leaning against her vanity, holding it before herself as she straightens her posture, squaring her shoulders. Practicing her Queenly Pose. "I mean, I would if I could." 

  --- 

  For some reason, delivering the Sermon without any hiccups, avoiding every disastrous scenario she'd conjured in her mind from tripping on stage to Castle Bright Moon going up in flames, isn't as much of a relief as Glimmer had hoped; the unanimous applause that follows just makes her want to get off stage even faster than her heart is racing.

  Her main responsibility of the night is over now, at least. Now all she really has to do is mingle. 

  This year's turnout is impressive, to say the least. Familiar faces scattered among a sea of people Glimmer doesn't know, although of course they all know her. She ducks behind a pillar, breathing a sigh of relief as she hears Bow's voice calling out to her over the music and bustling chatter. Her eyes follow his voice to the refreshment table, where he waves her over. She avoids any unwelcome conversations on the way there by teleporting next to him; when she ends up behind him, her inner child makes an unexpected reemergence, as she decides to scare the life out of him by grabbing his shoulders and greeting him with a little "boo." 

  "Glim— ACK! Glimmer! " he whips round, feigning anger. But then his face breaks into a beaming smile as he scoops her up in a hug that pulls her right off her feet. "He-ey! You did amazing up there!" 

  Glimmer laughs in surprise— the first time she's laughed in any capacity in a while , she realises— and shakes her head bashfully. "I tried. Do you know where the others are?" 

  "And you succeeded ," Bow affirms. He lets her down, craning his neck as he scans the crowd. He has the advantage of height that Glimmer lacks, but this doesn't seem to give him much more luck. "Uh...around? I kinda lost track— oh, there's where my dads went." He raises his arm to wave, and Lance, the only one who sees, enthusiastically waves back, then nudges George who does the same. When they see Glimmer they both give a thumbs up, Lance mouthing you did great. 

  "It's great you can invite your family to these things now," says Glimmer, giving an awkward grin of thanks before averting her eyes, trying to ignore the pang of envy in her gut.

  "Yeah, I always wanted to see how they'd react to a Bright Moon Solstice— oh, now we're talking!" He perks up as a server comes round with a plate of spring rolls, gladly accepting one. Glimmer manages to restrict herself to two rather than inhaling the entire stack. "You doing okay?"

  "I'm fine, just crazy hungry. Don't tell Casta but I kind of missed dinner." She eats them both in one go, then turns her attention to the refreshment table. "It's sooort of a Bright Moon-Mystacor Solstice thanks to her hand in it. I'm pretty sure those spring rolls are a Mystacorian recipe, and— ooh, they've got mooncakes!" 

  Okay, so maybe things aren't so bad. Though as she ravenously shoves an entire cake into her mouth, a voice behind her almost makes her choke. 

  "Glimmer?" 

  "Oh, hey Adora," says Bow, through his own mouthful of mooncake, before Glimmer can even think about responding, "oh man, you have got to try these." 

  "Hi, Bow." Adora picks up one of the mooncakes, taking a bite, but her eyes are on Glimmer— who is, internally, disintegrating. 

  Adora. 

  Is wearing. 

  A suit . 

  Why, oh moons above, does Adora have to be wearing a suit? 

  Glimmer isn't sure she could formulate any words even if her cheeks weren't stuffed like a hamster. She attempts to smile, and Adora smiles back, but it's thin-lipped, an indiscernible tension tugging at the edges that makes Glimmer's chest tighten. Bow's pupils frantically dart between the two, like he's watching a tennis match.

 "Can I talk to you?" Adora asks her. She glances to Bow, who quickly looks the other way like that's supposed to convince her he's not listening. "Uh, somewhere quieter?" 

  "Wha—" Glimmer manages to force down some of the mooncake. "What? Now?" 

  "Preferably." 

  "Um." She swallows down the rest, then swallows again. "Sure." 

  Adora holds out her hand. Glimmer takes it and allows herself to be led through the throngs of partygoers, her heart pounding so hard she swears Adora must be able to hear it over the music and chatter; the last she sees from Bow as she looks back is a raised eyebrow, and a weirdly knowing smirk she doesn't like the looks of. 

  She swears she used to be able to read Adora really well, but now, watching her back as she keeps her eyes trained ahead, she can’t make out a thing. Is Adora mad at her? She supposes she'd understand if she was, with how avoidant she's been lately, but she doesn't seem mad. There's some other tense energy radiating through to her; her hand feels just as clammy as her own is. 

  Before Glimmer has time to discern what that might be, they emerge from the crowd to a (suspiciously) empty patch of floor. Adora lets go of Glimmer's hand, by which point it's so sweaty she'd probably wipe it on herself if not for the risk of looking rude. 

  It's still loud. She's overwhelmed, and weirdly claustrophobic for some reason, like there's a million eyes on her, closing in on her, suffocating her. Her heart is pounding in her ears, so loud she can barely hear, barely think — 

  "Glimmer?" Adora's voice pulls her back to the surface. "Are you—?" 

  "Yeah, I'm good, I'm good, I'm just... really tired." Glimmer exhales. "Um, is something— is something up?" 

  "No— uh, yeah, kind of? It's not bad, i-it's just, um..." Adora looks away, rubbing her arm. "I uh. I liked your speech." 

  Well, that's obviously not it. "Thanks. I did my best." 

  "I thought that part, about the, uh, the days only getting longer after this— I, ha, to be honest, I didn't actually understand why the longest day of the year was a cause for celebration, I thought you guys just really liked parties, but after hearing it put that way, I...understand more. It was...really nice." 

  “Well, we also really like parties,” says Glimmer, with a wry smile in thanks. She’d agonised over that part when she was writing the Sermon. It felt necessary, but also just kind of dumb and corny. But she knows how Adora is, she tends to ramble nonsense and meander round the subject when she's super nervous. It's cute, most of the time, but right now Glimmer's that in that horrible inbetween of burned out and panicked and she just needs Adora to spit it out already so she can go to bed. "What's going on, Adora?" 

  Adora freezes like a deer in the headlights, her shoulders tensing. Then she exhales, slowly, closing her eyes then opening them again. Glimmer waits with baited breath, the possibilities running through her mind at a million a minute. 

  "Glimmer, I—" 

  Whatever she's about to say is interrupted by a resounding whoop from Mermista (evidently already plastered), which prompts most of the people in her immediate vicinity— who unfortunately happen to include the other Princesses— to turn their attention to where she's pointing, and erupt in cheers and various yells of encouragement. 

  What— oh. Oh no. 

  "Glimmer?" 

  There's a chandelier here, isn't there? 

  "What's going on?" Adora seems to sink down, shrinking under the weight of everyone’s eyes. "Why is everyone staring at us?" 

  What better place to hang some…

  No. They didn’t. Did they? 

  Bracing herself, she looks up. 

  And sighs. 

  "Oh for the love of…"

  "What?" Adora blinks. "What is it?" 

  Glimmer shakes her head briskly, waving her hand. "Don’t worry about it, it's— nothing, just some...dumb tradition." 

  "What tradition?" 

  She points up, and Adora's eyes follow to the chandelier above— or namely, what's hanging off it. "You see that?" 

  "The leaves?" 

  "That's mistletoe." 

  "Right."

  "We're under the mistletoe."

  "Yes."

  "So we're supposed to...I mean, it's not compulsory or anything, but we're supposed to, um…" 

  " Kiss, you scallops!" Mermista hollers, to an enthusiastic flurry of agreement. Moons above, there’s even more people watching them now.

  "Yeah, um…" Glimmer lets her gaze drop to the floor, feeling the heat rise to her ears. "That."

  "That, uh…" Adora forces an awkward laugh. "Wow, that is really dumb." 

  That hurts something deep in Glimmer's chest, but she tries to push it aside. They can't, anyway, she can't— 

  "Like I said, it's not…you don't have to..." 

  Two of Adora's fingers go under Glimmer's chin, tilting her head up; there's nowhere to look— nowhere she can look— but Adora's eyes. 

  And she realises, just because she shouldn't — 

  She can. She has to. She needs to.

  It's hard to tell who makes the first move after that, but Adora's lips are just as she's always imagined them. 

  It's surreal. 

  She can hardly process it. 

  She wants more. 

  She closes her eyes, wanting to stand on her tiptoes, wrap her arms around Adora’s neck, deepen the kiss until reality melts around them. No past, no future, no people or obligations— just her and Adora, together in this moment that they can be together. Everything’s simple, everything's okay, everything’s perfect . 

Then things just kind of blurred together.

Time passes weirdly these days. Winter crept up on Etheria like an ambush, and it feels like no sooner had she first felt the urge to wear a sweater did she wake up to find the Castle's surroundings blanketed in a thick layer of snow. 

If her calculations are right, it's been two months since Catra opened that portal. Two months since her mom sacrificed herself to save reality, two months since Glimmer's reality was turned upside down. It feels like it could have been yesterday. It feels like it could have been a whole lifetime ago.

For those who celebrate the Winter Solstice on this side of Etheria, Bright Moon's first snowfall marks the start of the festive season. Even into adolescence, when the magic started to wear off, the sight would still propel Glimmer's heart into a little leap of excitement, like she was a little kid all over again. Now, in the cusp of adulthood, her family dwindled even further, and last night's dream still weighing heavily on her chest, all she can think about are the preparations, the extra responsibilities, the empty seat at the celebratory dinner table where her mom should be, and she's filled with a dread that chills her to the bone. 

She's still in her pyjamas when she trudges into the kitchen, too drained to teleport herself there. Casta, as she expected, is making tea, humming some folksy song as she goes through the motions with an airy perkiness no one has any business to before 10AM. But then Casta's always been a morning person. Her mom has too. She often wonders why she never inherited the trait from either side of her family. Did her dad value his lie-ins as much as she does? 

"Morning, Glimmer!" she greets merrily. "You're up early, dear! Would you like some tea?" 

"Tea would be great. Bright Moon breakfast," says Glimmer. She remembers she has to specify now that Casta's stocked up the tea cupboard— she'd been mortified when she first got here to find Bright Moon breakfast was the only option. 

Casta fetches the tea, her continued humming filling the ensuing silence. In the somber tension hanging like a dark cloud over Bright Moon, Casta's prevailing cheeriness had been like a tiny shred of normalcy. If it wasn't for a few weeks ago, when Glimmer followed the sound of a crash to her aunt hunched and quivering over a shattered mug, tears streaming freely down her face, she might have been able to kid herself that it was fully genuine. Now, it's honestly hard to tell, and it makes their interactions feel less like the light peeking through the grim winter's sky and more like the eye of the storm. 

"It snowed last night," Casta says after a while, as if Glimmer couldn't see it for herself. 

"I saw." 

"Are you looking forward to the Solstice?" 

Glimmer pulls herself up onto one of the stools, her elbows on the island, her chin in her hands. Her mom would always lecture her for sitting like that. She gazes down into the marble, blearily, until the squiggles almost seem to wriggle and writhe before her eyes. 

"Glimmer?" 

She hadn't realised she was crying until she saw one of her tears drip onto the counter; she hastily wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her bathrobe before Casta can see. 

"Yeah, I don't know if we should...do anything this year? It just...doesn't really feel like a time to celebrate." 

"Well, it's really up to you, sweetheart." The soft earnesty in Casta's voice doesn't do much to soften the reminder that this is , indeed, entirely Glimmer's decision. "But I think everyone could use a little festive joy right now, including you. Besides…" She sets the tea in front of her, and her hand reaches out to smooth back Glimmer's hair, her thumb wiping across the dried tear track. "I don't suppose Adora has ever observed the Solstice before." 

Glimmer doesn't miss that knowing glint in her eye, and rolls her own eyes heavily in response. "Really, aunty? Now ?" 

"I'm only saying, if we hang up some sprigs of mistletoe—" 

" Castaaa !" Glimmer almost wails, swatting at Casta's hand as she feels a small blush creeping up her cheeks. She hates that the thought is almost making her reconsider, even when it lacks the same warm butterflies it might have elicited before. There's butterflies, sure, but not the kind she came to enjoy. 

"Really, Glimmer, when is the last time you girls have been able to do something fun for yourselves? Not to mention Bow and the others. Part of being a leader is knowing when to delegate, how much energy you can afford to expend before you burn yourself out." She's stroking Glimmer's hair as she talks, and Glimmer just lets her. Leader or not, she has to accept those shreds of maternal comfort where she can find them. "I'll tell you what, dear: if you choose to celebrate, just focus on that part— leave all the organising to me." 

"But you've already done so much," says Glimmer, gratitude and guilt swelling in some weird amalgamated lump in her throat, "what about Mystacor?" 

"Mortella is keeping an excellent handle on things," Casta assures her, referring to her prodigal former student who's standing in as Head Sorceress now that Casta's had to extend her stay in Bright Moon (and who Glimmer really does not trust, but that's a whole other matter), "I am sure the Guild can survive one Solstice without me." 

"Thank you." Glimmer's eyes drop back down to the counter. "I'll think about it." 

There's something she actually wanted to talk about, the reason she actually came in here in the first place— but as the question flashes across her mind, she finds herself unable to even look her aunt in the face, in case she somehow sees it behind her eyes. Casta seems happy right now. Like, actually happy. She can't risk bringing that down. She can't risk seeing Casta cry again. 

"A hearty breakfast will help you gather your thoughts together." Casta beams, ruffling Glimmer's hair. "I don't believe a leader should ever make a decision on an empty stomach!" 

"Mmm." Glimmer smiles, so forcibly it strains her cheeks. She is hungry, and she absolutely won't refuse Casta's cooking under any circumstances, but whenever she pictures herself a decision maker, the decision maker, the Queen— an empty stomach feels like the least of her problems.

For a start, in another burning question that enters her mind as she's chowing down on Casta's divine cooking, causing the sweet soybean to turn to cotton wool in her mouth— what on Etheria is she going to get Adora? 

--- 

There's one other person who might have the answers she needs. And by the time she's finished breakfast, any effort to quell the urge, convince herself this is a horrible idea (it is, but that's not going to stop her), is pretty much out the window. 

Frustration and nerves surge into adrenaline that propels her through the hallways like she's running from something— but her steps, as always, slow as she approaches the spare room, a strange anxiety pulling within her, pulling the other way. Things just start to seem a little darker the closer she gets, even though the actual lighting doesn't change, and it feels like she's wading through some metaphysical current, pushing against some foreboding energy urging her to turn back. 

She does eventually reach the doors with inexplicable difficulty, waiting for her heart rate to slow before she grants its occupant the courtesy of knocking before she enters. Teleporting, even if she did have the energy for it, just feels wrong this time for some reason. She even calls out, scanning the room in a vaguely rising panic when she doesn't get an immediate response. 

Finally, she spots Shadow Weaver by the window, a dark silhouette in the backdrop of the pale morning sky. With her back to Glimmer, she reaches for her mask where it lays aside on the window seat, reconcealing whatever it is she's hiding underneath ( my power came at a price is the closest to an answer she's willing to provide, according to Adora)— but otherwise she seems to ignore the budding queen's presence entirely. 

When temperatures dropped, Casta took it upon herself to ensure the considerably frail prisoner was adequately dressed for the impending winter— by digging out the brightest, most garish, most hideous festive sweater Glimmer has ever seen. It hangs a few sizes too big on Shadow Weaver's frame, allowing extra room for the stupid shoulder pad things she still wears underneath— and to be honest, if it was any other person, under any other circumstances, it probably would have been hilarious how ridiculous she looks. 

(Actually, nah— accounting for everything, it is still kind of funny.) 

Yet, when Glimmer joins her side, and she continues to ignore her, she finds it impossible to get the words out, the burning question on the tip of her tongue now a garbled mess refusing to string itself together into a coherent sentence. She avoids looking at the hideous woman and her hideous sweater, following her gaze to the snow-covered landscape before them. Further ahead, partially obscured by Bright Moon's towering cliffs, the Whispering Woods remains in ruins. 

Since the portal fiasco, Horde have been mercifully quiet— to a suspicious, worrying degree. When previously pressed about it, Shadow Weaver very calmly explained that the Fright Zone would need to recover from the damage the portal caused, as Hordak bides his time to plan and execute his next big move now that his main project of the past few decades has fallen apart before his eyes. It makes sense, as much as it makes sense for Shadow Weaver to be so content in her current situation, stupid sweaters and all, as she bides her own time, but it's still hard to trust a word that woman says. It's hard not to feel tense, on constant alert. 

"It's been snowing," she says dumbly, eventually, for the sheer sake of breaking the weighty silence. 

"You did not come here to make pathetic small-talk," says Shadow Weaver, instantly shutting down any further attempts to procrastinate by talking to the evil mistress of dark magic about the damn weather . "I'd have thought you would be too busy preparing for the festivities for another lesson. But that's not your reasoning either, is it?" 

Just her mentioning the lessons outloud, calling them what they are, makes Glimmer instinctively want to hush her, like someone's somehow listening, but she manages to stop herself. She can't let Shadow Weaver know she's nervous already. 

"N-no, actually." She lets out a shaky exhale, straightening her shoulders. "I, uh. I wanted to...ask you, actually, about…my dad?" 

Shadow Weaver is silent for a while.

And then: "What about him?" 

"Anything. Anything you remember." 

The sorceress is actually looking at her now, inquisitively, or at least she thinks that's what to read those blank white eyes as right now. "You'll have to be more specific." 

Glimmer already feels the frustration brewing within her. There's a reason (well, a lot of reasons) she doesn't tend to handle interrogations by herself. "Literally anything. What he looked like, sounded like, acted like, any little anecdotes—" 

Shadow Weaver looks over her for a long while, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. It only serves to irritate Glimmer further.  "Actually," she says, "he looked very like you." 

"Okay, cool. That isn't very helpful." 

"His hair was black." 

"I knew that." 

"What do you want to know, Glimmer?" 

"I told you! Anything! " She feels her temper rising and quickly pushes it down, unclenching her fists. But the way Shadow Weaver is looking at her makes her feel like she has her on the autopsy table, cutting her open, picking her apart and analysing every piece of her— and it infuriates her to the point that she throws her hands up in irate defeat. "You know what? Fine! You win! I don't know why I expected a straight answer from you."

"A straight answer would require an actual question, Glimmer." 

"Shut up! " 

She can't stand for Shadow Weaver to see her get so worked up like this— actually, scratch that, she can't stand Shadow Weaver in general— so she turns on the heel of her fluffy slipper to leave. Her anger seems to dissipate in moments once Shadow Weaver is no longer in her sights, even when she can still feel her eyes on her back, which is something that's been happening a lot lately: whenever she does feel something strongly, it never seems to last very long. 

By the door, she hesitates. 

"Shadow Weaver?" 

"Yes?" 

Should she? 

Probably not. Definitely not. But it finds her way out her mouth before her brain can stop it. "What kind of gift do you think Adora would like?" 

Yep, bad idea. Terrible idea. 

It's also a bad idea to continue talking, and guess what she does anyway. "It's just that you know her better than I do, so I— I thought— uh, you know what, never mind, forget I asked." 

"I don't think I do."

She wasn't actually expecting a response, or at least wasn't prepared for one. Her eyes narrow. "You...don't think you what?" 

"Know her better than you do." 

Yeah, no, she's not even gonna bother asking what she means by that. She unseals the doors, still feeling very, very watched, when the woman's reverberating voice seems to freeze her in place. 

  "In Mystacor," she says, "there's a specific tradition a sorcerer follows when they like someone, so to speak. Tried and true, passed down hundreds of generations." 

  Glimmer's eyes widen, her heart dropping to the bottom of her stomach. "H-how...how do you—" 

  "Believe me, Glimmer, you would be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't." 

  It's so shocking, so mortifying , that her mind just bypasses the first four stages of grief altogether; when she sighs, it's basically the moment she lays down and accepts her own death. "What's the tradition, Shadow Weaver?" she asks flatly. 

  "They talk to them." 

  The guard in the hallway doesn't seem phased when Glimmer slams the door hard enough to send vibrations up the walls. They're probably used to that aftermath.

  --- 

  It's snowing again. It's freezing on her face, but it's weirdly kind of refreshing. 

  "Hey, Glimmer, d'you know what this is?" 

  Bow's voice rouses Glimmer from her daze, as she pulls her gaze from where it's drifted up to the sky to the lumpy, smiley-faced mound of snow Bow's throwing out both his arms to gesture at. She...thinks it's supposed to be a snowman? "I...have no idea, Bow." 

  "It's a Snow-Bow! " 

  Glimmer manages a little huff of amusement. It doesn't look like snow sculpting is among Bow's many talents, but she can at least appreciate the name. "That's great, Bow," she tells him, unfortunately without as much enthusiasm as she would like. 

  Bow, thankfully, doesn't seem phased by Glimmer's underwhelmed reaction. He's proud of his work, and that's what matters. He gives his Snow-Bow one last little pat on the head, smiling fondly, then plops down on the bench next to her. "What're you reading?" 

  "Oh, this?" she looks down at the opened book in her hands that she very much isn't reading. She was supposed to be taking a lunch break, but she thought, wrongly, that she could get a little studying in. "It's some politics and governance textbook I found in the library. I think it's meant for students, but I'm using it for. You know. Queen training." 

  "Ah." Bow nods. His brow furrows. "You sure you shouldn't be taking a break?" 

  "I kind of am, I guess. I haven't actually taken any of it in." She closes the book, setting it beside her, and lets her eyes fall on her clasped hands instead. "It's all...a /lot/."

  "I've got ya." Bow's hand has settles itself on her shoulder, where it seems to find itself a lot these days. "But that's probably even more reason to take a breather, isn't it? You're burning yourself out here, Glimmer." 

  "I haven't even done that much today." It's true, at least in her mind, but a little also feels like a lot right now. She recharged after that encounter with Shadow Weaver but she still feels sluggish and overwhelmed. She always feels sluggish and overwhelmed. "It's been two months, Bow. Mom's court can't fill in forever. I'm...going be queen soon. I'm going to be queen soon." 

  It barely feels real, no matter how often she repeats the words. Over and over like a mantra as people, themselves probably more qualified to run a queendom than she is, steer her through a transition she never thought she would have to make in the first place, at least not so soon. 

  She still slips up sometimes. She'll absentmindedly make a mental note to tell her mom something, or instinctively brace herself for the oncoming lecture when she breaks one of her rules, and then the realisation will throw her off her tracks like a punch in the gut, but it never seems to be enough for it to actually set in.

  Her mom is gone. She's going to be queen soon. Her mom is gone. 

  Maybe one day she'll face the full blow. 

  Bow is rubbing circles on her back. She leans her head on his shoulder with a weary sigh. 

   "You doing okay, Glimmer?" he asks gently. A really dumb question on the surface, but it's more of an invitation to vent than anything else. 

  "I talked to Shadow Weaver this morning," is her discerning answer, and she feels Bow's hand freeze. 

  "You— what ? Why?" 

  "I was asking her about dad." 

  "Oh…" Bow sounds deflated. "Oh, Glimmer…" 

  "Yup. And the best part is, she didn't even tell me anything. Cos of course she didn't! What did I expect ?" This sigh is much more exasperated as she fully sits up, prompting Bow to look at her properly. " You saw him in that portal world, didn't you? I'm not crazy, am I?" 

  "We all saw him, Glimmer. Me, Adora, your…" He trails off. "Why is it bothering you now, though? Did something happen, or...?"

  "No. Well, kind of, I— I had a dream about him last night." 

  "Ah." 

  "And mom." 

  Bow nods somberly. 

  "It...wasn't really a bad dream, they were just...there, and we were eating dinner, and talking." She lets her gaze drift back to the sky. A snowflake lands on her nose. "You were there too, and Adora. All of us, just...together, having a nice normal time. It's...weird, I...I've never actually been able to picture my dad in my dreams till that whole... thing , and now I know what he looked like, sounded like, acted like, or at least what he would have..." She closes her eyes, exhaling. "I don't know. I can only remember being there for a few minutes before it all started falling apart, but in those few minutes I...I had a dad, Bow. I'd always had a dad. I basically lost both my parents in one day." 

  "I'm really sorry, Glimmer," says Bow, squeezing her shoulder as an assurance he's here for her.

  "I don't want to forget him again." 

  "I know." 

  "What if he's still out there?" 

  "I…" 

  "I mean, I don't— understand how this alternate reality stuff works, but he looked the age he should be now, right? How did the universe replicate someone who no longer exists?"

  "I...don't know, Glimmer." 

  "It's...it's fine, I don't expect you to. I just...I just want my family back, Bow. I can't believe she's gone." Her voice begins to crack. She doesn't realise she's shaking until Bow's arm tightens around her, like he's trying to hold her together. 

  "Do you want a hug?" Bow asks her, and Glimmer nods wordlessly. He doesn't know what to say— who would, honestly?— but he's always reliable for hugs. 

  They hug for a while, until Glimmer's able to swallow the lump in her throat back down to the pit of her stomach. She pulls back once she's sure she's regained her composure. The wind is picking up. They should probably go back inside.

  "Thanks, Bow," she murmurs, hunching up her shoulders so she can hide her face in her scarf, shielding herself from the icy chill. "Sorry, I hate bumming you out." 

  "Don't be. You don't have to bottle things up, Glimmer. We're all here for you. Me, Adora…" He squints. "—Say, where is she, anyway? I haven't seen her since breakfast." 

  "No idea," says Glimmer, and the finality in her tone causes Bow to raise a brow, but also stops him from pressing any further. "Can we go inside? I'm getting really cold out here." 

  Bow nods and gets up, offering his hand to Glimmer as if her little outburst has rendered her unable to rise herself. She takes it anyway, and keeps it held as she teleports them back into the safe warmth of the indoors. 

  "Wow, it's really picking up out there." Bow mutters, watching the brewing blizzard they'd narrowly managed to avoid from the window, "I hope everyone's inside." 

  "Mmm." Glimmer’s looking the other way. Towards the throne room. Bow seems to realise what she's thinking. Or at least the gist of it. 

  “Look, Glimmer.” He comes behind her, laying his hand back on her shoulder. “I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but wherever your parents are, I know they’d both be really proud of you." 

  Glimmer smiles wanely in thanks, then looks out the window. She left the book outside. Oh well. 

  "But they'd also want you to be happy. Or at least...not...this unhappy." 

  Glimmer doesn't really respond to that. 

  “You know,” she says after a while, “I’m just realising I really don’t like snow.”

  ---

  Glimmer decides to give Casta the go-ahead with the Solstice celebrations. If there's one thing she's learned as a budding leader, it's that people cling to the stability of routine more than ever in times of uncertainty. It's not really about what she wants. 

  She thinks it'll be okay. She's thinks she's okay. Most of the time. 

  The waves of grief are brief and intense, stopping her in her tracks, stealing the air from her lungs. Sometimes they hit her at random, sometimes when she's alone, sometimes when she's not. 

  It's worse when Adora's there. She'll feel her watching. And if she makes the mistake of looking up, it's impossible to miss those two dreaded words etched across her features: I'm sorry.

  She knows from her, it's far more weighted than I'm sorry for your loss . Far more behind it than sympathy and condolences. Thinking too much about it makes her chest ache. 

  Thinking too much about Adora makes her chest ache. 

  It's obvious the others are speculating. The Horde's deafening silence leaves them without much to do but speculate. Someone's going to bring it up at some point, and she has a feeling it's coming when Adora excuses herself from the Princess Alliance meeting (which meandered into discussing differing Solstice traditions) for a bathroom break. But as they exchange looks with each other, like they're silently debating who should ask, Mermista is the last she expects to be the one to leans across the table, speaking low enough that Glimmer doesn't feel like everyone's listening (they're listening anyway, though, of course they are). 

  "Hey, things have been really weird between you and Adora lately. Did something, like, happen , or...?" 

  At the other side of the table, she can see Netossa whisper something to Spinnerella, who badly suppresses a little giggle. She understands the gist. They kind of have it right. But they also have it very, very wrong. 

  It's more complicated, she thinks, than what everyone's assuming. Too complicated for her to string into words. 

  "Look," says Mermista, suddenly looking a little guilty, "if it's too personal—" 

  What Glimmer responds with isn't really an answer, but it's enough to take everyone off-guard, Mermista herself drawing back like she's just been singed.  

  "I'm scared of losing her too." 

  Adora returns, the conversation resumes from where it was, and Glimmer sinks dejectedly into her seat, just barely able to return the nervous smile Adora casts her way. 

 She knows who it is as soon as the door creaks open; pretends to be asleep and undisturbed by the approach of tentative footsteps, not reacting even as the bed dips to the extra weight next to her. 

  It's become kind of an unspoken rule, one of many that's formed between them in the time they've fought together, been together (not in that way—), that Adora is welcome here whenever she likes. It's also an unspoken rule that they don't really talk about it, don't really address the underlying layers of these impromptu sleepovers, which she isn't sure is for the sake of Adora's dignity or her own. 

  What she does know, though there's some vague anxiety holding her back from fully admitting it, even to herself, perhaps of coming off selfish, or maybe just a little weird— is that she's actually come to miss Adora on the nights she's not around, and sleep tends to come a little easier when she is. 

  Not tonight though, apparently. 

  A sleepless eternity drags, and then some. She doesn't need to look at Adora to know she isn't having much luck either.

  "Hey," she murmurs eventually, shuffling round to face her. She’s groggy, squinting in the lack of light, and doesn't quite manage a smile until Adora reaches across the minuscule space between them to poke her nose, her own lips curling into a mischievous little grin as Glimmer recoils, pulling a face before breaking into giggles herself.

  "Hey," she whispers, probably reminiscent of late nights in the Fright Zone's dorms, "shouldn't you be asleep?" 

  "Probably," says Glimmer, quirking a brow at Adora's hypocrisy, "shouldn't you? " 

  This is usually to be the point their sleepovers turn into, well, actual sleepovers. The kind that involve chatting, laughing because everything is somehow funnier this time of night, deep discussions about everything and nothing, save for the actual serious topics that have come to dominate the daytime hours and catch up to them thereafter, because everything is somehow smarter this time of night too— and, still, not a whole lot of actual sleep, but at least the weight of the world feels a little lighter by morning. 

  She wonders, sometimes, what it would be like to have Adora here every night, sleeping or no sleeping. Sure, their nights together wouldn’t really sleepovers anymore, but does that matter? It’s hard to tell what pushes the boundaries of her and Adora’s friendship when her only reference point is Bow, and it’s so...different with him. Sure, she loves Bow, of course she does, just…

  Not like she loves Adora. 

  There's a weariness about her tonight. It dulls her eyes even in the dim light, pulling at the edges of her smile until it falters, momentarily betraying what lies underneath. That smile returns, though, when Glimmer pokes her nose. "Yeah," she shrugs, "probably." 

  Glimmer sits up, stretching her stiff limbs. Adora does the same, and Glimmer has to restrain herself from watching. "Come on." She holds out her hand. "Let's go on a midnight adventure." 

  It's actually well past midnight, and staying within the safe confines of Castle Bright Moon at these spooky hours is one of the few stupid mom rules Glimmer's actually pretty happy to abide by, so it's not going to be much of an adventure either. But she teleports, Adora in tow, to various locations of the Castle's outdoor areas, balconies and courtyards and even the Moonstone Tower itself, until finally, on an unmanned parapet, she finds herself, surprise surprise, all out of teleports. 

  "I...need a minute," she says to Adora, catching herself on a wall as her legs threaten to give way under her. She'll stay here until the world stops spinning.

  Adora just playfully rolls her eyes, nodding towards the Moonstone Glimmer just teleported them away from. "You could have recharged over there, dumbface." 

  "Yes," Glimmer groans, " thank you , dumber-face." 

  Compared with the near-suffocating summer heat of Glimmer's room, the nighttime breeze up here provides some much needed relief. She watches as it tousles Adora's hair, lifting the strands that must have fallen out of her ponytail from hours of tossing and turning. The bags framing her eyes tell of countless sleepless or sleep-deprived nights; the slump of her shoulders, the lost, despondent look that resumes over her features when she thinks Glimmer isn't looking, tells of the kind of tiredness no amount of sleep is going to solve. 

  Glimmer doesn't say anything. But she does approach her once the dizziness subsides, leaning her head on Adora's shoulder, placing her hand over Adora's where it grasps the wall, tight enough for the white of her tendons to strain through. Adora exhales, and the grip seems to slacken, as she rests her head on Glimmer's; it's among the few instances Glimmer's actually kind of glad for the height difference. 

  "Sorry," she mutters, though she's probably no more sure what she's apologising for than Glimmer is, "I'm just... really tired." 

  "I know. It's okay." Glimmer soothes. She runs her thumb over the back of Adora's hand, across the purple and blue bruises that bloom across her knuckles, hesitating, swallowing. She feels compelled to ask. "Are you...sure it's nothing else?" 

  Adora is quiet for a while. She draws her hand from under Glimmer's, folding her arms and resting her chin on them, gazing dazedly over the expansive view of Bright Moon before her. The moons and the Moonstone are still the sole lights of the sky, the silvery gleam dancing across the clear waters below, illuminating the rolling hills and vast cliffs that circle the queendom like a protective wall, like the safe arms of a lover. It's all mundane to Glimmer, it's all she's ever known, but it must be a far cry from the view Adora is, or was , used to. 

  Her response, when it comes, isn't what she expects, but it also doesn't surprise her. 

  "Is it bad I sometimes miss the Horde?" 

  She says it very quietly, tentatively, like she's ashamed of the fact, afraid of being chastised for admitting it. After everything the Horde have done to Etheria, to the people of Bright Moon, to her— how dare she harbour any sentiment towards the enemy, right?

  Glimmer isn't angry, though. She puts her arm around her to assure her of this before she verbally does so, gently squeezing her shoulder. "No, of course it isn’t bad. You grew up there, right? You had friends, you had Catra— it'd be weird if you didn't have some good memories." 

  "Yeah. That's the thing." Adora sighs. "I don't regret leaving, obviously, I just... sometimes I wish I'd left on better terms, you know? The Horde raised me, these people were basically my family , even Shadow Weaver had...her moments, sometimes, and I feel horrible acknowledging that after how she treated Catra. At the end of the day, I...I wouldn't be who I am now without them, I feel like I owe them more than just...upping and leaving. They deserve closure as much as I do. Probably more , actually." 

  "Adora." Glimmer's tone still isn't angry, but it is much more firm. "You don't owe the Horde anything , okay? Not your old friends, not Catra, and definitely not Shadow Weaver. You were only a baby when the Horde took you in, it's not like you asked for any of this." 

  "Hmm." Adora doesn't seem convinced. "I guess you're right." 

  She knows, from piecing together what she's been told, the gist of Adora's upbringing, and she can use that to trace the roots of her turmoil. 

  She knows, but that doesn't mean she understands. 

  Glimmer hasn't been conditioned to fight from the moment she can stand. She hasn't had her entire reality ripped from beneath her feet, found out that everything she came to understand about the world is based on a lie; she hasn't had to turn against everyone who raised and were raised with her for the sake of her morality; and she isn’t now stumbling into the cusp of adulthood tasked not only with rebuilding herself from the ashes of her previous life, but also carrying the burden of Etheria's very fate on her shoulders. How can she even begin to understand what that's like? 

  "But then again," Adora adds, "I didn't choose to be She-Ra either." 

  In a lot of ways, Glimmer feels like she's known Adora for years. 

  In many others, it's like she doesn't know her at all. 

  "I'm sorry," she responds, quietly, pathetically, for lack of anything else to say. 

  "Don't be, it’s not your fault." 

  But maybe this is okay. 

  Maybe what they have now is fine.

  Adora is Adora, Glimmer is Glimmer. They exist in separate spheres that sometimes overlap. They fight the Horde together by day and their own demons by night. Glimmer is here if Adora needs her as a silent comforting presence, or a distraction, and she's sure if the need arises, Adora will return the favour. Because that's what friends are for, right?