When the Smoke and Dust Settles

Adora had been taught many things about battle in the Horde.

She'd been trained in combat with ten different weapons, including her own fists. She'd learned tactics, from the importance of high ground to cutting off enemy supply lines. She'd studied the values of different terrains, when to press on, and when to retreat.

They hadn't told her about the smell of blood.

The smell of blood, or oil in the water, or the thick dust thrown up from the lasers and bombs.

There were other smells on the battlefield, of course, most prominent of those being magic. Or magics? Each princess had brought their own, and while the rainbow wave had faded, the tingle of power still blanketed the battlefield, thick and heady. The windswept saltiness of the ocean, the sweet buzzing power of Brightmoon, the metallic cold of ice, and even She-Ra's own power, which Adora could only describe as the taste of the midday sun, hot and fierce and glorious.

But that was almost worse, somehow. Because she'd just be walking around, paying no mind to the scents of flower blossoms and fresh frost, when something bitter and coppery would rise up. And she'd spy a soldier, gurgling on their own blood, and Adora would have to fight back the bite of bile.

No. No. The Horde had certainly never taught her about any of this.

Adora helped as much as she could. She dragged people (or bodies, sometimes) out of the water or the wreckage of tanks. As She-Ra, she could get in and out of situations most others couldn't, sometimes carrying up to three people at once.

She rescued Bright Moon and Horde soldiers alike. So did Etherians, that said; Adora didn't want to hold that against them. They weren't leaving people to die where it could be helped. But they had only so many hands, only so much time, and when given the option, they'd save a loyal Etherian soldier over a Horde prisoner they'd need to house and feed. Both sides were capable of doing the cold calculation of war.

But the Horde... Adora was still connected to them, she couldn't deny. And she didn't want them to die needlessly. Maybe they could learn to be better. To help people.

After the injured and the dead were recovered, Adora was less useful, but she could still do something. The Horde never would have let any trainee out of basic if they weren't capable of bandaging or stitching a wound, or applying any other emergency first aid. She let the actual healers and doctors do the heavy lifting, followed what they told her, and acted as an extra pair of hands where needed.

(More than once, she stared down at the sword, and nearly attempted to heal again… but the last thing anyone needed was her shooting some poor injured soldier with a laser.)

She worked. She worked, and worked, and worked, striving to save as many lives as she could.

Distantly, someone behind her said, "You're hurt." She didn't pay it any mind. Of course someone was hurt, they were in the healing tent, she didn't need to be distracted by such obvious statements.

"Adora," someone said again, and it was Bow, his hand on her shoulder, "you're hurt."

"I'm not," said Adora, distracted, barely looking up from the bandage she was soaking in warm water.

"Then what do you call these gashes in your back?" Bow argued.

"Scratches."

"They look pretty bad-"

"They were bad, then they were healed by the magic wave," said Adora, "and seriously, it's fine-"

A few people glanced her way. Adora had to bite back a groan; these people didn't need to see their legendary hero She-Ra in a petty squabble over whether or not she was hurt.

"They still look red," said Bow. "Just let me bandage them."

Adora shrugged Bow's hand off (the movement hurt, yes, but she had felt worse, and stretchers full of soldiers were in far greater pain). She looked her friend dead in the eye. "I'm handling it."

Bow opened his mouth, closed it, and backed down.

Adora returned to her bandages.

Barely a moment later, she caught the tell-tale flicker of Glimmer's teleportation out of the corner of her eye. "How are things going?" Glimmer asked. It wasn't her more usual flippant tone, but her determined leadership voice.

Immediately, one of the head nurses was at Glimmer's side, giving a full report. How many resources had been used, how long their current resources were expected to last, the number of injured, the number of dead...

… that last number is higher than it had been earlier.

With a grim nod, Commander Glimmer flickered away. Adora began passing her soaked bandages out. Bow helped, still watching her, still worrying.

Glimer reappeared with a pop. "Anything else?"

"Adora's hurt," said Bow immediately.

She glared at him.

"What!?" Glimmer exclaimed.

And so it started all over again. It was like a buzzing white noise, with Adora constantly grinding out the same response: I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine...

Glimmer at least seemed to be on her side. She understood what Adora was doing. What She-Ra was doing. A commander could not appear weak. Everyone else relied on her to protect them, to guide the way. To be strong.

And sure, maybe her back did hurt. Maybe her scratches burned as she moved. Maybe the muscles in her arms and thighs ached. Maybe her feet were sore from days and days of dancing and running and hiking and fighting. Maybe her head was throbbing and her vision was blurry.

Didn't matter.

She was a trained soldier. She was She-Ra. She could handle it.

She was emptying the bucket and beginning to fill it with fresh water, when she stumbled and half-dropped it. Water splashed all over her feet. Adora blinked at it for a second. Then, muttering under her breath, Adora forced her hands to stop shaking. She got back to work.

Bow and Glimmer's discussion had become a full-out argument. People were looking. Some were muttering. It was the last thing she needed.

"Will you two quit it," she hissed.

Glimmer looks her over. "Yeah, no, Bow was right. You look awful."

"Who cares about how I look?"

"We do!" said Bow and Glimmer, in unison.

Adora glared. "Okay, so what! Looks don't matter! So- " she pushed them aside, "Get out of my way!"

A voice cut through the air. "She-Ra," Queen Angella said, "a word?"

With years of training to always obey superiors' orders pressing down on Adora, she nodded, saying, "Of course."

She was led outside the tent, her friends trailing after her. Bow had a hand on her shoulder. Steadying her, she realised, with a wave of embarrassment. Outside, the queen pressed a mug into Adora's hand. Well, She-Ra's hand. The mug looked especially tiny there.

"It will ease pain and induce sleep," Queen Angella said.

The answers 'I'm not in pain' and 'I don't need sleep' competed, and some senseless mish-mash came out of Adora's mouth. "Idunneed pain-ersleep."

The Queen raised her eyebrows. She ordered, "Drink."

Head drooping, Adora nodded. There was a flash of light. By the time the mug reached Adora's lips, the hand holding it was normal sized. Back in her mortal body, all the pains and aches suddenly seemed much more pressing.

Next thing she knew, she was in her room. She was pretty sure she didn't lose consciousness for that. Glimmer had just teleported her.

Nonetheless, whatever was in the tea must have been fast acting. Her body already felt fuzzy and distant. Glimmer helped her into sleeping clothes. Helped her into bed. Tucked her in.

Adora wanted to say something to her. To Bow too. But he wasn't there? And then she had forgotten what she wanted to say, and as she struggled to recall it, the words slipped further away, the blackness encroaching… And then she was asleep.

oOoOo

Author's Note: don't entirely know what this is. just a sort of.. vent of my desire to scoop these children up and help them, with a huge side-serving of Angella Thoughts and Theories. Hope you enjoy. Part 2 coming soon :)

Thanks to Airam for being my awesome editor and wrangling my horrible tenses.