Disclaimer: I don't own She-Ra!

Title: Shadow Weaver Found Dead in Miami, Good Riddance Says Literally Everyone

Summary: Glimmer and Adora bond over seeing Shadow Weaver do her thing firsthand

...

Glimmer wakes up glitching, which is a blessing in that it cuts off any damningly loud noises and a curse because ow, son of a bitch, that hurts.

It passes relatively quickly, leaving Glimmer an awkward mess wrapped in blankets. Her first instinct is to go see Bow for comfort. He'd welcome her with open arms; had done so before, even. But then she remembered his tears and how hard he'd been on himself and she just. Can't. She's done more than enough there.

Then, it clicks. Oh, yeah, I have more than one best friend now, that could work.

There's some fumbling to get out of bed, some awkward run-ins with the nightly patrol (I'm having a sleepover, she says, clutching a pillow to her chest, and since she's the daughter of the Queen of the rebellion they don't argue, but she can feel the doubt radiating off them in waves), and that leads up to her standing in front of Adora's door.

Glimmer knocks.

"Come in," Adora calls. She sounds far too awake for the situation at hand.

Glimmer stumbles in to find Adora training. Her sword lays on her bed, sharpened and polished to perfection, while her pillows have been strapped to a lamp for a makeshift punching bag. Her red jacket is in a heap on the floor.

"Hey," Adora says. She doesn't stop punching. "You're up late."

"Technically, it's early."

That makes her pause long enough to look out the window, flashing the bright red wings on the back of her old uniform. A morbid part of Glimmer's sleepy brain whispers about how her mom has wings, and she has wing-tattoos, and it had been people wearing red wings who'd killed her father. Wings really are a popular fashion choice these days.

"Huh," Adora muses. "So it is."

If Bow was here, he'd gasp and accuse her of sleep-training, and Adora would shrug and say that she'd love it if she could train and rest at the same time, but Bow is- hopefully- sleeping peacefully in his own room, so such shenanigans go un-done and dearly missed.

"I had a bad dream," Glimmer admitted through her teeth.

Adora wiped the sweat from her brow, giving herself a second to properly analyze the situation. "Want to... stay?"

Glimmer nodded, though she grimaced at the flat rock Adora called a bed. At least when they were traveling they slept in the dirt because they had to. Adora seemed to live and breathe discomfort. She sat on the edge and watched her. "Are you coming or are you, like, going to keep training until breakfast?"

"That was the plan," says Adora, but she acquiesces with a final blow to what is most likely a broken lamp held together by tape. Glimmer's pillow is almost as tall as she is, so Adora doesn't bother to dismantle hers. "Okay, so when I have a bad dream you always ask what they're about. Should I do the same back, or is this different protocol?"

"It's the same," Glimmer tells her, feeling just a little sad. Gods, Adora's her age and she's never learned how to ask about nightmares? Did they ever talk about anything not war-related in the Horde?

"Okay." Adora perches next to her, one hand on Glimmer's knee and the other touching her sword. "What happened?"

"It was about Shadow Weaver."

"Oh." Adora's voice is quiet, careful. Glimmer feels rather than sees her snap to attention. Her hand tightens on her knee, but not enough so to hurt. Her shoulder square and her eyes narrow.

"I talked to her."

"I know. I mean, I figured. Since you were in her room and in her magic and she was waiting when I came to get you." She swallows and glances around, as if expecting the woman to appear and berate her for discussing it. "Shadow Weaver- she likes to talk. A lot. When I was little, she'd sit and tell stories for hours." Adora paused, lip quirking at her badmouthing. It was a new freedom. One of many. "She wasn't a very good storyteller."

"She's scary."

The smile fell. "Yeah."

"Did she... really raise you?" It's a stupid question, especially given how she'd just mentioned Shadow Weaver telling tales when she was a child, but the concept hadn't clicked in Glimmer's mind until the witch was holding her chin and telling her everyone she loved was going to die. There was this brief, fleeting moment during the time she was left alone where she thought this bitch raised She-Ra and it's still hard to rectify that villain with the Adora she knew. "I mean- she did normal parent stuff, like brushing your hair and hugging you and-"

Adora intervenes. "No hugs. She taught me how to brush my hair, but she wouldn't teach anyone else, so I did that myself." She gently ran her hand over the bristles on her undercut. "She let me keep my sides longer than most cadets. I think she was jealous how easy mine is to take care of."

"Oh."

Adora deflates. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"What? No, no, don't be. Don't ever feel bad for trusting, okay?" Glimmer grabbed her hands, lacing their fingers together. "I just... don't know what to say. Mom can be a lot sometimes, but it's never been like that between us."

"Good. I'm glad."

Wow, goddamn. That's enough to make Glimmer flinch a little.

Adora shifts to the floor, still holding her hands. Glimmer looks away as she kneels. People do that to Queens, not Princesses, and even if they did seeing Adora do it just feels wrong.

"When I first got here, you offered to take responsibility for me," she says. "I haven't forgotten that."

"I didn't mean it like-"

"It's okay, Glimmer. I'm honored you did that for me- even if it was just fancy fluff words. I want to repay you and Bow for everything you've done for me. I want to protect you." Adora squeezes. "So, please. Don't ever go against Shadow Weaver like that again."

Glimmer sighs. "Adora, no."

"She'll come back. She always will," she insists. "She'll never leave me alone. As far as she's concerned, I'm hers. I knew that when I left. So, please, don't let my problems hurt you."

"Absolutely not." She carefully unraveled one hand, knocking on the side of her head. "Adora, stop listening to your brain. It's dumb."

Adora blinked at her owlishly. "I'm... I'm sorry?"

"Don't be," Glimmer repeated, firmer this time. "It's not you. It's Shadow Weaver. She did a bad job as a parent, and that's on her." She made grabbing motions with her hands. "Get up here, you dork."

She did so, bending at an awkward angle thanks to the height difference while they hugged. Glimmer buried her nose in her shoulder. "I was so scared," she whispers. "Everything was so cold and dull. No one would meet my eye. All I could think was... 'man, what a bad outfit to die in'."

Adora quivers with barely suppressed laughter. "Yeah?"

"It's stupid, I know. We have a war going on and people are dying and I was being held for ransom. Everything sucked. I just... it's always been that way, you know? And if this was going to be some big final confrontation between Bright Moon and the Horde, I wanted it to mean something. I didn't want to die in a prom dress."

Adora pulls back enough to look at her. Her features are soft. "If I die as Adora, there's a chance I'll get mistaken for a foot soldier and buried with other Horde cadets. I get it. Outfits matter."

She pushes the sword aside; then, noticing the flash of panic in Adora's eyes, Glimmer gently set it on the floor. Adora didn't need to be asked. She climbed onto the bed and flopped onto her side. Glimmer was more than happy to crawl into her arms.

"We're going to be a wreck when they come calling for us," Glimmer decides.

"Meh. Great ideas come from sleep-deprived generals."

"Or death."

"Death too."

Glimmer snorts, eyelids slipping closed. "Hey, Adora?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad I got to punch Shadow Weaver in the face."

"Me too, Glimmer. Me too."

Author's Note: I wrote this in one day, and it's one a.m. as I post this. Screw proofreading- I will do that once I'm rested.

Also, as always, please don't hesitate to correct me if I impart bad notions or incorrect ways or dealing with trauma! I am very lucky to have never been in an abusive situation, and I am by no means a professional.

-Mandaree1