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Adora’s hands had surely frozen in place on the railing. It was a cold enough night that, seven stories below her, a thick frost was already building up on the thin blades of grass. The bleak trees became barren and every petal on every flower curled up into itself as the usual vibrant colors of Brightmoon’s gardens turned a stark, glistening white.
The railing was metal, cheap, and it clung to Adora’s exposed skin. It was a temporary thing, there to replace the old balcony that had been broken when looters and clones ransacked her room during the time the castle had been lost to Prime. Perhaps, if the railing were still stone, Adora wouldn’t have lost all the feeling in her fingers by now after standing out there for…how long?
The night-moons were only rising higher in the sky and Adora’s hands were only becoming number by the minute, but not even the growing stillness of the night, nor the soft purrs of her girlfriend sleeping soundly behind her, were enough to force Adora to pry her hands away, to lure the young woman back to bed.
She felt so silly, Adora admitted to Catra one night. Because the war was over, and Brightmoon was her home again, and there weren’t any looming threats anymore, so why couldn’t Adora sleep until she’d checked everywhere — behind every door, inside every closet, underneath the balcony, and underneath the bed — for intruders?
Not silly, Catra had told her at the time, some too-early morning, exhausted but not tired. That was it, though, and they never talked about it again and Catra never made fun of her for it but she also never said anything when Adora inevitably crept out of bed for a second time in thirty minutes Just to make sure.
Behind the door, inside the closet, inside the other closet across the room, over the railing and underneath the balcony, on hands and knees underneath the bed, and finally back behind the door again in case someone had snuck in while she’d been distracted.
If Adora had to guess, that was the issue, really. She couldn’t do her routine. Not tonight. No, because tonight they were having a sleepover with Glimmer, Bow, Scorpia, and Perfuma, as ordered by the Queen herself to celebrate the reconstruction of Plumeria (a pet project compared to their many other messes, but an accomplishment all the same).
Her friends were all fast asleep in her and Catra’s room — too many of them, too risky. What if Adora made enough noise to wake them up, tripped over someone, got caught? How would she explain to them that she couldn’t even walk into her own room without feeling like she was being stalked by some invisible enemy, someone who wanted to hurt her and the people she loved?
It was cold. Adora would’ve liked to be back in her room instead of standing this makeshift guard. No, she would’ve liked to be in her bed, snuggled up close to Catra, enjoying the warmth of the blankets coupled with the softness of her girlfriend’s fur, those deep rumbling purrs defrosting the ice in her lungs.
All of it was inside, waiting for her to finish her rounds. But she couldn’t. Her friends presented a problem she couldn’t solve and, as silly as it was, Adora just knew she couldn’t sleep soundly if she couldn’t check those empty spaces with her own eyes.
Morning couldn’t be far, she reasoned. They’d all already stayed up so late. That’d been fun. But, surely, they’d wasted enough nighttime. Adora was on the heels of morning, she could just feel it.
Just a little longer until the day-moons rose.
Her fingers ached, the cold metal biting into the sensitive skin.
Fuck, was it cold.
•••••
Perfuma woke up twice that night.
The first time was because Scorpia, shifting in her sleep, had thrown an arm directly over her face, threatening to suffocate the poor princess in an unwitting, unconscious hug. Perfuma had squirmed out of that one, only dimly noticing Catra was alone in bed.
The second time, Perfuma woke up due to a soft headache, the mounting pressure in her temple forcing her eyes open. Winter was the cause. She’d described it before as akin to a brain freeze, her connection to Etheria’s plant life blurring over into her own physical well-being.
It happened often during the change between seasons, as the cold crept closer and snow began to fall. The forest’s magic usually protected the trees from freezing entirely, sparing Perfuma the worst of migraines (minus the one time during the war that the Whispering Woods froze over entirely, giving Perfuma the sense that her forehead would split in two).
Luckily, this one wasn’t so bad. Nothing a cup of warm tea couldn’t fix.
Shrugging off her blankets (and Scorpia, who’d wriggled her way back around her girlfriend’s torso), Perfuma rose from their improvised bed to see a strange sight: outside on the balcony, on the verge of collapse as she leaned her whole body weight onto the makeshift railing, shivering slightly, Adora.
The tea was quickly forgotten.
Tiptoeing around the others, who were still sound asleep, Perfuma made her way out to the balcony as well, staying in the doorway a few steps behind Adora.
Perfuma wanted to get her attention, but didn’t want to startle Adora either. It didn’t matter though, because Adora had already heard Perfuma get up, alerted by the sound of borrowed blankets sliding across the mattress that Glimmer had stolen from another room for the sleepover.
“Can’t sleep?” Adora asked. She’d heard Perfuma get up the first time, too.
“It’s been a bit fitful,” Perfuma admitted.
Adora kept her gaze laser-focused ahead, eyes fixed on the grass below her, sparse green fading into white. It was almost all covered now, and the clouds overhead threatened more to come.
“Have you gotten any rest yet?”
Adora shook her head. No point in lying.
“If you don’t mind me asking-“ I do. “-is there something specific on your mind that’s keeping you up?”
Adora glanced over to Perfuma, but didn’t turn her head, so she didn’t even see her. “If you’re looking for a bedtime story or something, I don’t have one.”
Translation: All the things I have on my mind tell a story you wouldn’t want to hear.
Adora was far worse than Catra when it came to speaking about her feelings. Perfuma figured out as much after only a handful of sessions with Catra, who begrudgingly opened up after a few weeks, as opposed to Adora who hadn’t opened up to her once in the whole four years they’d known each other.
Perhaps this long night would need to turn into a longer night, then.
“Would you like to come inside?” Perfuma asked. “I was just going to make some tea, if you’d like to join me.”
And leave the room unprotected? No shot.
“I’m alright. I’ll be in soon. You should go ahead.”
It was quiet, too quiet because Adora would’ve heard footsteps if Perfuma had left. Instead, after a while, the princess made her presence known again.
“I think I’ll stay out here with you, if that’s the case.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d prefer you weren’t alone right now.”
Hands tightening around the railing, Adora tried not to let her annoyance show. The company wasn’t needed. If anything, it only made her feel more self-conscious.
“Well, I’d rather be alone.”
Was she only self-conscious because she knew she was doing something wrong?
“I’d feel more comfortable if you weren’t.”
Adora finally turned her head around to look at Perfuma, making her shoulders crook at an odd angle. Her hands never left the railing, frozen as they felt.
Whatever Adora had to say fell flat as she made eye contact with the princess. Those dark brown, almost black, eyes should’ve pierced right through her, and yet the soft concern they conveyed dealt an almost more-devastating blow without any need for such harshness.
“Do you have trouble sleeping most nights?”
Adora quickly looked away, an answer in itself. She resolved herself to stay staring at the grass, that little patch of green amidst all that suffocating white.
Her grip tightened.
The images came without premeditation, without warning, without giving Adora a chance. Flashes of overwhelming white and terrible specks of green, the funny feeling of air leaving her lungs as it whipped around her, vision tunneling into a single focus on the body below her, hurtling down, down, d-
“Adora?” Perfuma asked softly, breaking the fall.
“What was that?”
“I asked if you’ve had trouble sleeping before.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course I have. I’m sure Catra-“ Her voice caught, crawling over to Catra, holding her in her arms, “-already told you.”
She should’ve checked under the bed. How easy would it’ve been for someone to sneak in? How many people wanted Catra, wanted her, gone?
Her grip tightened again. Her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t look as the frost turned into snow. Soon the world would be white, glistening and sterile and dead. She didn’t want to see it.
“Adora, perhaps you could take a step back? I’d like it if you joined me inside.”
She was frozen. Completely. Her body wouldn’t listen to her, wouldn’t move the way it should.
It was like that time she’d been visiting Razz and the snow came and piled up so high that Adora had to dig her way out of Razz’s hut. Like snow, her thoughts were piling up, blocking her way back inside. She was trapped on that balcony. Her thoughts were morphing into a blizzard, a whiteout, and her brain was so numb it couldn’t feel the frostbite setting in.
Her heart was pounding and her lungs were burning, but she just couldn’t feel it. Her head was heavy with the snow. Razz’s shovel was a long way away, down there, in the forest.
(It wasn’t warm in space. It was so, so cold on the Velvet Glove. The drop was so, so far. Catra was a long way away, down there.)
“Please Adora,” Perfuma said calmly. “I’d rather you took a step back.”
“What? You think I’m going to fall?”
“No.”
No! …Catra? It's okay...I'm here.
“I’d be fine,” Adora mumbled half-heartedly, ignorant to Perfuma’s already concerned expression deepening. “I’m She-Ra. I can survive a drop like that.” With a poor attempt at humor, she smiled and added, “I survived a lot worse and it only cost me a couple legs.”
Perfuma’s eyes flickered down to Adora’s feet, one planted firmly on the balcony’s tile and the other pressed lightly against the railing, rocking back and forth on the heel.
“If that was supposed to be a joke, Adora, then I didn’t find it funny.”
Adora’s smile tightened. The rest of her body only tensed further when she heard Perfuma come closer.
“I can’t make you come inside,” Perfuma said. It was only half true. Adora certainly could imagine all the creative ways Perfuma could force her back into the room, but she also knew to some degree Perfuma would never do that. “What I can do is wait outside with you however long you need me to. There really is no rush.”
Why? Adora wanted to ask. Instead, she shook her head. No point in trying.
The minutes passed by into an hour. At every moment, Adora expected Perfuma to give up and call it a night, to escape the freezing cold and enjoy the warmth that awaited her inside.
That moment never came.
Not until Adora finally felt the chill all the way to her bones, not until she grew used to the ache and the grayscale scenery, not until she finally felt her hands slide off the railing, her body slumping with fatigue into Perfuma’s patient arms.
Numbly, she was aware of Perfuma guiding her away from the balcony and towards the door to her room, the one that led out into the main hall.
“Wait,” her voice, scratchy, “One second.”
Perfuma, arm interlocked with Adora’s, paused, letting Adora use her free hand to check behind the door.
Empty space, like always.
After that, Adora let Perfuma lead her to the kitchens. She liked it there. Big open spaces. No windows. Two visible exits. See-through cabinet doors.
The heat of the teacup was especially nice against Adora’s hands.