Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was ironic, really. Each pinprick of light was tailed by its glittering reflection in the lapping waves ahead. The sun was still below the horizon, yet hints of copper and peach rose from the blue in the distance. Kneeling on this sand, surrounded by my element, I should feel confident. Powerful. Unstoppable. 

Yet, all I feel is a growing sickness in my stomach. 

I guess that’s what suppressing your true bending nature to join the Equalists does to you. But the thing is - I didn’t just join the Equalists. I became Amon’s most trusted advisor. His lieutenant. Nobody had seen me bend in 18 years.

Alas, I wasn’t the only liar among our armies. Our leader, the revolutionary, Amon himself , was a bloodbender, who had used his immense power to rob others of their abilities. He was a hypocrite, with a blazing desire for control, his resolution for equality long gone. He went to the lengths of targeting children , the last of the airbenders. In a way, he was finishing the work of benders who sought genocide. If it hadn’t been for the Avatar, a whole race would’ve been extinct. 

He had woven a compelling curtain of lies, drawn me into his plans by convincing me he would eradicate benders who brought only destruction in their wake. Benders like Fire Lord Ozai, like his father, the crime boss Yakone. Like my father. No, I couldn’t think about that man as my father. He was just a ghost tormenting my shadow, an embodiment of my sins. 

No matter how much I convinced myself, my father’s face, his twisted smile and manic blue eyes, were burnt into my brain. 

In fact, it was all I saw as I flicked my eyes downward, finally drawing my focus on the situation at hand. 

Lying limp before me, body blackened and sprawled on the sand, was Amon. 

Ash clung to his marred face, no mask to obscure the horrific sight. His lies had become reality, yet it was no firebender that distorted his features. His striking blue eyes, once bright with ambience, laid closed. Amidst the blood and soot, the lines of pain on his eyebrows hinted at his agony. 

Maybe it was the echo of his captivating voice in my ear swaying my perception, but despite everything, he was still beautiful. Most of his hair had been salvaged from the accident, and his features remained intact, one could even go as far to say they were still chiselled and defined. 

But him being pretty didn’t change the fact that he deserved to be left here, to die. It was justice for the actions and havoc he had wreaked. Whatever happened to him, it looked like an explosion, it was the spirits enforcing their punishment. 

And yet, I sat back and let all of it happen. I could’ve stepped in, as he rose to power. I could’ve been his moral guidance. The second opinion that wasn't by a biased extremist. I know I had the power to do so. If I had the power 18 years ago to do what I did, that untapped raw potential would be growing inside me, festering into something bigger. I could feel it with every passing day, slashing at my throat, begging to be released. 

I took a deep breath, tasting the salty air and letting that power inside me flow. 

Was Amon really that bad of a person? Or had he just been misguided? Did he deserve a second chance? 

I clenched and unclenched my fist. I already knew the answers to that. 

Amon wasn’t a pure-hearted man. But he didn’t deserve to die either. There was a small, flickering light of redemption available for him to take. 

Resolute, I inhaled sharply. 

After all these years...

I called to the ocean, as I began to waterbend. 

As I reached out, my hands trembling, the water ran to my touch with a surge of power that reverberated suddenly through the depths of my soul. The invigorating feeling of it was almost overwhelming. Almost. 

The water enveloped Amon’s still figure, dancing across his wounds, then seeping into them, healing his mottled, raw flesh perfectly, then gracefully escaping back to the sea. 

But mingled with the water were traces of blood, a stark reminder of the violence and pain that had always accompanied my bending. 

With each movement, I could feel the weight of the blood-soaked sand beneath my feet. With every drop of blood, I willed the water to rise, to cleanse and heal the wounds that marred Amon's broken form.

As the last traces of blood were washed away, Amon’s eyes began to flutter open, his chest heaving up and down. 

His azure eyes met my own. “Lieutenant. It was true.”

For a moment, I stood frozen, confused. “Huh-” 

Then my blood turned to ice. I realised what he meant. “You knew. You knew I was a waterbender.” 

I knew that his shock would turn to horror, then fury. The consequences of Amon's fiery anger made my lip quiver, the rest of my body refusing to betray my fear of this man. Who knew what he would do to me upon his newfound revelation? Who knew the lengths I would go to protect myself?

I should've let him die. I should've killed him myself. Why do I never think these things through?

Yet, his response was beyond any of these expectations. It was far worse. 

“Waterbender?” Amon seemed genuinely shocked, his eyebrows flying upward. “Well, I didn’t know that. ”

I seethed. How stupid could I be, giving myself away like that. “Then what do you know?”

“You’re from the Southern Water Tribe. Tarrlok told me the night I freed him.” 

The soothing, enthralling voice of Amon was gone. This was the raw, bitter voice of Noatak, that cracked especially with the mention of his brother’s name. 

“He said you were from a non-bending family, who supposedly perished while canoeing in a storm. There were no survivors. The news spread fast, being such an immense tragedy. ” 

His tone dripped with restrained fury, twinged with betrayal and shock. 

His words sent chills down my spine, the guilt and fear flooding back. But I couldn’t let it show. He wasn't the object of my horror, though. It was the story he was telling. 

“I suppose you figured it out then. Bit too late, though.” I said. “No equalists left. Your movement is dead, Amon.” 

Amon’s eyes darted sideways, a subtle tear falling off his high cheekbone. 

He looked sad. Which was strange to see. His emotions were always veiled by a mask. 

“Yes, Everything is gone. I failed. We failed. But you’re wrong about one thing. I haven’t figured you out yet. I don’t know anything about you. All I’ve heard so far is your lies, the one you told to the Southern Water Tribe, the other you told to the Equalists. You’re clearly a waterbender, a powerful one at that.” 

Everything I had worked so hard to hide. All that darkness hurtled toward me with every one of Amon’s words. I had to submerge it, hold it back. I had to get away from Amon, before he figured me out for who I really was. 

“ We failed?” 

“What?” 

“You said we failed, Amon. There is no more we. There is no more Amon. I healed you so you could find your own path in life.” I said. “After this, I will never talk to you again.” 

“No, Lieutenant. I am going to equalise you. Then we will reignite our mission across the world! We will make the revolution happen. We will ensure justice prevails!” Amon was sitting up now, his assertive, charismatic persona slipping back on. 

A wave of disbelief washed over me, momentarily taking my mind off the memories threatening to resurface. It was evident that I had sifted out my recollection of his petrifying feats momentarily, with my next outburst. 

“How dare you? Have you learnt nothing?” I screamed, standing up over him. “You no longer want justice for non benders. You want control over everyone! Over me. You want to rid me of the ability I use for good! I used it to save you. I’ve used it to save myself. If it weren’t for my waterbending, I’d be dead.” 

“Lieu-”

“No, Amon! You’re delusional! Think about all the lives you’ve ruined. You're worse than any bender! I don’t ever want to see your face again!” 

The rage was coursing through my veins. 

I needed to get away from him, this manic man. 

So I ran. I ran as far as possible, like I always have done. 

But this time, I didn’t get very far. 

Amon’s grip tightened around me, his bloodbending twisted my limbs in a cruel mockery of control. Panic surged through my veins like wildfire. I couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him reduce me to nothing more than a pawn in his twisted quest for power. I couldn't let myself be bloodbent by another man again. With every fiber of my being, I pushed against Amon's bloodbending grasp, breaking free from his suffocating hold. 

As I broke free from Amon's bloodbending grip, a surge of power coursed through me.  Without hesitation, I turn the tide, unleashing my own bloodbending against him in a desperate bid for survival. No, it’s not survival. It’s my natural instinct.

As I felt the currents of energy respond to my command, a chilling realisation gripped me like a vice—this sensation, this act of bending another's blood to my will, it's not just a display of power; it's a haunting reminder of the past, of the darkness that once threatened to consume me. 

In that moment, as I faced Amon with his own weapon turned against him, memories of my father flooded my mind—a twisted figure consumed by rage, his bloodbending a weapon of destruction aimed at his own flesh and blood. He had killed my mother, my sister. 

And I, in a moment of desperation and self-preservation, had turned his own power against him, ending his reign of terror once and for all.

Every vein and capillary I had felt pumping with blood, at my beck and call. Both Amon’s and my father’s. 

Amon struggles and thrashes. “Lieu-,” he choked. “I’m sorr-”

“I should’ve let you die. I should’ve killed you myself.” I whispered. I released him from my grip, thrashing him into the sand. “How does it feel to be bloodbent, Noatak? ” 

Then, I sprinted into the sunset. 

Bloodbending isn’t right. I am evil. My bending wasn’t used for good. It never has been. I deserve to die. It’s too late for Amon, but I could’ve steered him back earlier…

It’s my fault he’s like this. 

Chapter Text

The air shimmered with heat. Beads of sweat trickled down my flustered cheeks as I practically collapsed onto the front counter of the Ba Sing Se Inn.

The innkeeper was unimpressed. He wore a wrinkled scowl, angry creases penetrated his furrowed brow. He was a bit on the larger side, like any middle aged man in this city. 

I opened my mouth, in a futile attempt to muster words through my heavy breathing. I must have sprinted a kilometre. 

The man grumbled, rolling his beady eyes. A few seconds passed before his chubby hand slammed the counter. 

"Alright, girl! Quit panting like a polar bear dog, and tell me what you want?"

I inhaled sharply.  "Room...for....1..." I wheezed.

"20 silver pieces."

I fished out a soaking bundle of money, pouring the contents before the innkeeper. 

His eyes glistened at the clattering sound of the pieces, but that glimmer was snuffed out when he realised there were only 19. 

"Not enough. Go home, peasant." the man muttered gruffly. 

"Please!" I begged, desperation clawing my chest. "Just one night!" 

He groaned, his tone as cold and unyielding as the stone walls surrounding us. "No."

He thrust the silver pieces back at me. 

The metallic clatter of the metal hitting the floor reverberated through the room. I turned on my heel, feeling the sinking pit in my stomach intensify. 

"Please Daddy, let the nice lady stay!" a small voice piped from behind me. A young girl, who had likely been watching the whole ordeal from the obscured cubicle behind the counter, gazed up at me with wide eyes. Her voice was barely audible as she spoke, yet she held unwavering conviction in her words. 

The man's face softened, his features morphing into a pitiful smile. "Turtleduck, we can only let in people who pay for their stay." 

I glared at the man, then offered a small smile to the girl. She offered a toothy grin back. Her scarlet curls were drawn into a bun, with loose strands framing her face like tendrils of fire. She had a mole beneath her eye. Her unwavering determination, optimistic attitude that was yet to be tarnished by the cruel world...it was all too familiar. I gulped, the chilling realisation gripping me again. 

In this girls face, I saw another. The face of my sister. 

But she wasn't. She was just a young girl who looked like my sister. I kept repeating the phrase in my head, like a mantra, like a prayer to the spirits, beseeching them to cleanse me of these memories. These thoughts. 

And yet, when I looked back to the girl's father, I saw his deep brown eyes shift to light azure. I saw his scowl become a manic, malevolent smile. I saw his light, pale skin darken to the colour of my own. I saw his face become my father's. 

I wanted to scream, but my mouth could only produce gargles, indiscernible cries of suffering. I knotted my fingers into my hair, clutching the dark curls, wanting to scratch out my eyes and my brain so I wouldn't be faced with the haunting images of my family. The edges of my world were turning black, I felt like I was slipping.....

"Lady! Earth to lady!" the annoyed, yet somewhat amused voice of the innkeeper's daughter sounded through my ears, resurfacing me. 

"I-I'm sorry. What were you saying?" I stammered. 

"Daddy said you can stay for the night!" she beamed eagerly, her small fists up in the air. "I'm so excited! Will you come and play with me?" 

I blinked, stupefied. 

"Really? I'm so thankful-," I began to ramble, shocked and gratified at the sudden turn of events. 

The innkeeper, resigned, mumbled at his daughter to direct me to my room. Everytime I looked at her, I couldn't shake the visions I saw, the faces I recalled. My back turned icy, with the chilling realisation that I couldn't run away from my past forever. 

The hallway stretched out before us, dimly lit by flickering lanterns, casting eerie shadows on the worn, wooden floorboards. With each step, a memory flooded back, distancing me from the little girl's joyous, incoherent storytelling. All I could hear was the warm laughter of my mother as she plated seaweed and crab for me and my sister. All I could feel was the overwhelming fear everytime I had looked at my father's face, the darkness that threatened to engulf me when we faced each other one last time. The guilt and the sin and the lies. 

As we reached the door to the room, the girl turned to me. 

"Here we are! Hope you'll be comfortable," she chirped. 

I managed a weak smile, "Thank you." I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. 

As she skipped away, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of the room, the floodgates of memory burst open once more. I sank to the floor, overwhelmed by the weight of my past, my tears mingling with the dust and despair that filled the air. 

The cup of water on the bedside turned to ice. I had turned it to ice, unconsciously bending. 

Everything was ruined. The facade I had dedicated my life to building had crumbled. The man I saved was long gone, beyond redemption. I had left him to wreak havoc in the world. The bloodbending I was forced to use on him had returned trauma I had buried long ago. 

Everywhere I went, I saw their faces. 

I needed to confront my past. I needed to remember. 

***

I stumbled through my bedroom door, my mother's cries rousing me from my sleep. Her agonising screams were petrifying for the 9 year old girl that I was. It seemed my father had arrived early. 

I rarely saw my father, he often left for long trips to the Nothern Tribe. To me, he was almost a stranger. I knew Chief Sokka better than him.

My mother raised me and my sister, tended to us, catering for our every need without an ounce of complaint. The first time I saw my father was on a snowy night, his hand raised at my mother, his shadow looming over her cowering figure as she trembled, her words indiscernible to me, who was merely a toddler then. I had watched from the hole in the wall, confused, convinced it was an inescapable nightmare, the kind that controls you, coercing you to stay in it.. He left the next day, and my mother moved on as if nothing had happened. My sister was born 8 months later. 

This night was entirely different. My mother's screams were brimming with anguish and desperation. They were accompanied by another, much younger person's cries. My sister's. 

And so, I had stumbled from my bed, dazed and concerned. 

I pushed the door slowly, cocking my head, and yawning. "What's going on-"

The sight that greeted me was pure horror. There, bathed in the sickly glow of the room's torches, was my father. His large, calloused hands were raised, clawed as if he were holding the strings of puppets. 

The puppets he were torturing were my mother and my sister. Their limbs were bent at grotesque, inhuman angles, their feet forcefully being lifted from the floor. 

"Dad?" I whimpered, terrified. "What's going on?" 

My dad, oblivious to my presence, slowly turned his head to face me. His features were creased with age, yet his eyes shined menacingly.

His smile was absent of emotion, a simple tool to manipulate me. 

"I'm just teaching your mother a lesson," he said innocently, as if explaining a mathematical concept. 

"Run, sweetheart! Run!" my mother choked, as if her own tongue was betraying her, forbidding her from speaking. 

"She won't be running, will you, sweetheart?" Father mocked. 

"What are you doing to Mom? Why are you hurting her?" my voice wobbled, tears welling up in my eyes. 

"Your mother made me a promise. You see, I'm a waterbender." disgust was crawling into his even tone, his emotionless smile slowly morphing into a twisted scowl. "Not just a waterbender, a bloodbender. The spirits have given me the power to enforce my will on lesser beings! And yet, I was given no successors for my line. You and your sister are nothing! Just stupid little girls! No bending ability, not even boys. And it's all thanks to your mother. So I have been searching, and I have found another woman to continue my line. I have no use for your mother anymore. And so I am going to dispose of her, and her worthless children." he cackled heinously, a sound that would haunt me for many years. 

"You're going to kill Mum and Sissy?" I asked, heart-wrenched. "You're going to kill me?" 

"Don't take it too harshly, you can all be reincarnated into something better, something useful." he said, nonchalant again. 

"No!" I yelled, my pained exclamation piercing the night. I grabbed the blade on the table, the one my mother had used to cut crab earlier this morning. It was the size of my arm, and I had not a clue how to wield it, but I lunged at my father, blinded by the need to save my beloved sister and mother. I couldn't fathom the grief of losing them, never hearing my mother's melodic singing, or  my sister's infectious laugh again...

My father scoffed, "Silly girl!" 

The knife clattered to the floor, and with a flick of my father's wrist, my arms and legs were suspended in the air. His bloodbending grip was a phantom, vice like hand restraining me, its sharp nails clawing into my heart and sinking its sharp points into my muscles. 

I was powerless. 

I was powerless, a helpless rag doll as my father snuffed my sister's life out as easily as he could blow out a candle. My mother was next. Their bodies collapsed on the floor, lifeless and unmoving in death. 

I let out a guttural cry. I was on fire, distraught, not mature enough to understand the gravity of the situation, only to know that there was no more Mom. No more Sissy. 3/4 of my heart had been ripped out by this evil, twisted man before me. He was going to kill me next. 

So I seized control of the very magic he had used to torment us, turning it against him with a ferocity born of desperation.

That was the day I learnt I was a bloodbender. 

I realised it as I enforced my will onto his body, finding dark glory in his pain and cries. He was going to suffer the way he made my family suffer. He was going to die. I clenched my fist, picturing him in excruciating agony, falling apart. The only thing I heard was the blood roaring in my ears, but somedays I hallucinate Father pleading with empty promises and desperate lies phrased as secrets. 

Secrets that might be true. Truths that are yet to be unveiled. 

I released my grip on him, watching his figure fall beside my sister's, his face forever imprinted with his sadistic laugh. 

***

That night, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, I carried the lifeless bodies of my mother, father and sister to the edge of the vast ocean, one by one. There was a storm brewing.

There, amidst the lullaby of crashing waves, I bid them farewell, entrusting their spirits to the embrace of the sea. 

It was up to the Water Tribes to craft a story of what happened to my respected father and his family at the hands of the cruel storm. 

As for me, I ran. 

Far, far away. 

Chapter Text

I had never been bloodbent before. I didn't want to admit it, but it was excruciating. It was a violation. Having your own body bound aginst you, reduced to a puppet...how many people had I hurt with this technique? How many had I violated? How many innocent people had ended themselves because of the power I used to rid them of their identity, which had formerly been defined by bending? I pushed back the wave of remorse surging within me. I would revisit it later. 

Right now, I needed to find Tarrlok. What I had done to my brother was so unspeakably wrong, all the years of bloodbending and violence toward him, belittling him and then leaving him at the hands of my heinous father. Misguided, influenced solely by that vengeful man with a blazing hatred for Republic City, it was no wonder he became a corrupt politician. 

And yet, I failed to realise that we could have pursued justice together. Us against the world. If only I had made him come with me, instead of giving up so easily. If only I hadn't labelled his empathy with weakness. It was my fault he was no longer the soft hearted little boy who wouldn't bloodbend a cat owl.

He was a power hungry man who exploited the nonbenders I sought to protect. 

But was that really my mission anymore? My lieutenant's words ring through my ears. 

She believes that I've lost my way. She thinks my motive for equality is lost. I don't want nonbender rights anymore, I don't want to prevent evil benders like my father from hurting people.

I want control of everyone. I want my words to be law. I want to bloodbend everyone to my will, but I want them to like it. To be happy about it. 

I never want to be opposed by a man like my father again, so instead I become him. 

I can't seem to shake the truth of that. My lieutenant is a liar. She was an Equalist waterbender, a bloodbender, who obviously wanted to eliminate other benders for power and control. But she saved your life because she is a good person and you didn't deserve it but she still saw hope in you.

She was toying with me, manipulating me. 

My lieutenant is a liar. No,  she knows you better than anyone. 

She is wrong. She saw right through you. 

I am on the right path. No, you're not, and you know it 

***

Small figures began to seep into the beach, the ocean now glistening with sunlight. The sky was azure. Day had arrived. 

That was a problem. I needed to find Tarrlok, before someone else did. 

I sprinted across the wide expanse of sand, clumps of yellow grains flying up beneath my boots. 

All I did was look straight ahead, scouring for the unconscious figure that would be my brother. Nothing. 

Spirits. I couldn't just leave him. I'd already made that mistake once. Why did he have to blow up our boat in the first place? Why was he such a wet blanket, even at the age of 39? Why did he-

A distraught cry pierced my thoughts. I spun around abruptly, turning to face the maker of the desperate sound. 

It was a child. 

"Hey, you pushed me! Watch where you're going, old man!" the child's eyes gleamed like spun gold. His brows furrowed, his top lip curling into his bottom one. His topnot had dislodged from its neat arrangement, now unkempt ebony tendrils that framed his face. His eyes welled up with tears. He was angry, but in a childish way. Not vengeful, but pained and vulnerable. 

It reminded me of Tarrlok. The way his small face would contort in pain and confusion when he tripped in the games we played as boys. His expression of betrayal after I bloodbent him. 

"I didn't push you." I replied. I didn't think I pushed the little boy, who writhed on the sandy ground. But obviously, something happened to him. 

"Yes, you did. When you were running, you knocked me over!" the boy exclaimed, his small voice breaking as he choked through his sob. 

Did I? Maybe I did. The boy seemed very genuine. "Mmm, that was an accident. I don't even remember doing it!" I responded with a light chuckle. 

"Hey! It's not funny. How can you not remember hurting someone?" the boy stared at me accusingly, his nose scrunching up.  His innocent, pointed expression was exactly like Tarrlok's after I bloodbent him. It pained me to see that again. 

How can you not remember hurting someone? Maybe it's because I've hurt too many. I didn't say that to the boy, though. 

"I'm very rushed right now! I'm looking for someone very important." I stated, matter-of-factly. There was not a trace of humour in my voice. I was patronising. I guess I've been worse things. Murderer, abandoner, abuser.   "Where are your parents?" 

The boy winced at that last question. He sighed, his little chest heaving as he stood up. He wore a crimson V-neck robe, with golden accents along the hems. A single brown sash lined his waist. Fire Nation. 

"They left me here yesterday." he whispered, not bearing to meet my eyes. "This is my home now."

"Why?" 

"Because my father got his bending taken away when he went to Republic City. He came back, and then he just..." 

The boy crumpled in on himself. His face buried in his hands. 

"Please, I don't want to talk about it," he blubbered. His eyes were cast with a watery sheen. 

My heart fluttered. I averted my gaze from the broken boy. His father got his bending taken away when he went to Republic City. Only one person could've done that. 

Me.

Hatred surged through me, burning my insides. It was all self-hatred. 

I was the reason a boy was left on a beach, abandoned to die. How could I live with myself? 

"Why are you wearing boots to the beach?" the boy murmured, his voice still wavering. He had wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Why do you have so many holes in your clothes? Is that..." he touched the deep red stain on my shirt. "Blood?" 

"I, uh-," I was rendered speechless at his onslaught of questions. 

"Wait, why is there a body over there?" he pointed at a figure in the distance. It looked blurred, but it seemed to be adorned in a tattered long blue waistcoat. Tarrlok. "Wait, the blood...did you kill him?" 

"What? Are you crazy?" I spluttered, already running toward my brother. "He's my brother!" 

"Sorryyy, I had to ask!" 

Within a matter of seconds, I had reached him. I panted heavily. Who knew explosions could make you so unfit? 

"Tarrlok, Tarrlok, can you hear me?" I urgently asked. 

No response. His chest wasn't moving. I touched his pulse. Nothing. 

Dead. 

"No!" I screamed. I fell to my knees. 

My brother was gone. Everything was for nothing. The only person I had left in the world was nobody. I should've just died. I should've died for running away. I should've never left him. Nothing would've ever happened. 

He would be alive. 

"Move." a hand rested on my shoulder, gently pushing me out of the way. The boy emerged from behind me, his small shadow spilling over the sand. 

I didn't even notice he was there. 

Slowly but surely, he pressed his hands onto my brother's chest. His hands were interlocked together. He grunted as he pushed and pushed. 

Then, he...kissed him? Not just once, but twice? 

He returned to pushing his Tarrlok's chest. 

Suddenly, Tarrlok gasped and coughed. His eyes fluttered open. A jet of water spewed from his mouth. 

The boy withdrew his hands and stepped back. 

Tarrlok's chest bore a deep, bleeding wound. His hair was messy and charred, his clothes singed. He smelled of charcoal and blood. 

His neck bobbed, as he struggled to breathe. 

I knelt over him, my hands hovering over his wound, drawing water from the ocean. It glowed faintly as it enveloped my hands. The feeling over water coursing through my chi paths, seeping over those flames of self-hatred, it was so invigorating. 

I wouldn't get caught up in it, not with all the horrible memories it came with. 

The water shimmered as it closed Tarrlok's wound, the bleeding slowing as flesh knitted together. 

Tarrlok mumbled something, as he attempted to stand up. He stumbled back down, but I caught him. I looped his arm around my shoulder. 

I had never been so relieved. 

"Thank you," I whispered to the boy. "What did you do?" 

"I'm not sure. I saw someone do it to a drowning person yesterday night." he shrugged. "I figured it would be useful. Also, you're a waterbender! That's cool!" 

I smiled at the boy. It wasn't an expression I usually wore. After spending so much time beneath a mask, I had forgotten how to interact with people. 

"What's your name, kid?" 

"Li." 

"It was nice meeting you, Li." I said, turning away from him. I began to walk away, Tarrlok's arm slung across my shoulder. 

"Wait!" Li reached out to me, gripping my arm. 

"Take me with you." he said, desperation brimming his amber eyes. "Please, it's so scary at night, and I have no food-" 

Li had saved Tarrlok's life. It was probably my fault he was here in the first place. I glanced at Tarrlok, but his eyes were closed, his head lolled sideways. He would have no say in this matter. 

"Okay, you can come." I nodded. "But we're not exactly locals." 

Chapter Text

Tarrlok

As I slowly regained consciousness, the dull light filtering through the curtains greeted me with gentle warmth. Scenes flashed before me. Noatak's face contorting with woe. A little boy pressing on my chest. Debris flying on a lone boat, as waves crashed against sharp, unrelenting rocks. 

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I found myself lying on a modest bed reminiscient of cardboard. The bedsheet was embroidered with poor lettering. Ba Sing Se Inn. 

A descent from a wealthy politician to an asylum seeker residing in the likes of an inn. 

I deserved worse. 

The memories of the previous night continued to flood back in disjointed fragments. The chaos and the overwhelming sensation of falling into darkness. 

Sitting up, I rubbed my temples. My fingers were coarse. Bandages wound around my torso, neck and arms. I was not grateful to be alive. 

All I felt was a profound sense of emptiness gnawing at my soul. With a heavy sigh, I glanced around the room. Noatak wasn't there. He must have left me. Who could blame him?

I took in the second hand furnishings and flickering flame of a lantern casting shadows on the wall. It was nothing like the opulent surroundings I was accustomed to in Republic City. 

But as I gazed out the window, watching the bustling city below, I found myself lost in the past - the ambition, the thirst for power, the ruthless pursuit of money and fame. It all seemed so distant now, a fading dream slipping through my fingers. 

And yet, the memories of my bloodbending atrocities lingered like a stain on my being, a reminder of the unending darkness that ran through my father's bloodline. How many lives had I destroyed in my conquest of control? How many innocent people had suffered for my actions? How much pain had the Avatar and her friends endured because of me? 

And I could no longer use my power to heal, because it was taken from me. Rightfully so, meaning I had nobody to blame but myself. I was nothing. 

A bitter taste filled my mouth. "I don't deserve to live," I whispered hoarsely to myself, the words hanging heavy in the air. 

A faint sound emerged from outside - the soft patter of footsteps outside the door. Frowning, I turned to the source of the noise. Was it Noatak? Was he finally going to face me, a pathetic man who couldn't even bend anymore? 

The door creaked open, revealing a figure that was clearly not my brother. It was a curious young boy with wide amber eyes, and a childish grin. I recognised him vaguely...the boy who had pressed onto my chest. CPR, I think it was called. A procedure to save people. I supposed I should thank him. 

"Hey mister, are you okay?" the boy asked innocently, his voice tinged with concern. 

I bristled at the question, my defenses rising instinctively. "I'm fine." I snapped, my tone harsher than I intended. 

The boy remained undeterred, his gaze unwavering as he approached me with a determined expression. "You don't look fine." he remarked bluntly. 

What gave it away? The countless bandages and glossed over eyes, or my dejected demeanour? Perhaps it was both. 

"I just did a stupid thing, you know?" Many stupid things. 

"Mmmm, like what?" the boy questioned. 

Spirits, must he ask so many questions? "I kidnapped the Avatar, for one." I admitted, moodily.

"Wow, that's something." the kid seemed unfazed. 

"You don't seem that disgusted with me." I noted, mainly to myself. 

"I've seen worse. Much worse." the boy said. "She's still alive, anyway." he shrugged. "So, you're Noatak's brother right?" 

I gasped, thoughts racing through my head. I didn't know news could spread so far so quickly. I thought the Avatar would keep that information discreet.

"How did you know that?" 

"He told me." 

"He what? Where even was he? And who are you?" I felt my heart leap into my throat. 

"Chill out, Tarrlok." He knew my name as well! "I'm staying with you guys. After I saved your life, which you still haven't thanked me for, he decided I could tag along. He's in the other room-" he gestured to the mahogany door behind me. "My name is Li, by the way." 

He said all of that at a breakneck speed. 

I was at a loss for words. Noatak was still alive, and he had taken in a child? And we would all be staying at the same place? I inhaled sharply. 

"Why did he take a kid in?" I questioned frantically. 

"Ouch, do you know want me here?" the child smiled as he feigned offense. Then, he added darkly, "Because I was left on a beach to die, and this was the better option." 

I understood his words all too well. Noatak probably saw himself in Li. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." I said. "I didn't realise." 

"It's okay." he murmured. "You'll learn to love me. And then-" 

Our conversation was interrupted by enthusiastic knocking on our front door. 

"Room 3?" a bubbly voice sang. A light brown eye filled the decrepit peep hole. The image was blurred, and specks of dust obscured the glass, but I could make out a child's face through it nonetheless. 

She pushed open the door. She had fiery hair and freckled cheeks. "Hey!" she pointed at Li. "Dad said that you're a friend. Do you want to play with me?" 

Li threw his hands up in the air in excitement. "Yes! What games do you play? Have you ever played turtle duck and tiger shark? I'm so..." 

Their joyous chattering dwindled to silence as they raced out of the room. 

I closed the door behind them. 

Now, it was just me and Noatak, who was doing something in the next room. 

I clutched the doorknob, my hand trembling as I twisted. The door flung open, the rusted hinges groaning. 

There he was, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, long dark lashes framing his eyelids. His dark hair was rustled, pulled back in a ponytail. His frame had become more slender, his face more sunken and hollow. 

He seemed to be...meditating? 

I walked up to him, examining him closer. I could still sense his heartbeat. It was irregular, he seemed uneasy. 

"Noatak, what are you doing?" I half-yelled. 

No response. 

"Noatak!" 

Silence. 

"Noatak!"

He remained motionless. 

I turned on my heel to leave. If he wanted to ignore me, then so be it. 

"Yes, Zaheer." his voice finally broke the silence. I spun around, only to be faced with my eyes-closed, stoic brother. 

What was happening?

Chapter Text

Amara

There were a million thoughts racing through my head and I wanted to get rid of them all. I faintly remember Master Katara saying something about meditation all those years ago when I was in the Southern Water Tribe. Apparently, the Avatar had used it a lot when he felt intense emotions. It was oddly placating.

So I sat on my bed, crossing my legs. I placed my hands firmly on my knees and...relaxed. It was hard at first, to ignore my pressing concerns, to forget about Noatak, my father, bloodbending...to just let go. 

For the first hour, my eyes refused to stay shut. My mind was its own nemesis, each thought a knife against my brain. 

But soon, I grew tired. And that's when it happened. 

I just..let go. 

The darkness seemed to shimmer and shift. Colours took on a vibrant intensity, hues melting and dancing in a kaleidoscope of brilliance. The air became charged with energy, tingling against my skin like a gentle caress. I had no idea where I was, but it was strangely euphoric. 

A luminous fox emerged in front of me, fur aglow with otherwordly radiance as it pranced ahead, carefree. I followed. 

Around me, there were towering trees and delicate blossoms, that ranged from cerulean to a vibrant pink. The gentle tinkling of wind chimes echoed ahead. 

It was truly beautiful. 

The fox halted at a canopy. Silver light filtered through it, casting dappling shadows on the rich soil. 

Up ahead, two figures were talking. I could only make out their silhouettes - 2 tall men. Their faces were obscured by leaves. 

I walked closer. I could see one of them closely. His hand gestures were fluid as he spoke, his face angular and sharp. He seemed a few years older than me. His hair, dark and windswept, was lined with grey. His beard was long, elongating his face. He wore dark tattered combat robes. He seemed to be bargaining, making an offer. 

I pushed another leaf out of the way. "Ouch!" it winced. 

Wow, that was weird. 

I almost fell backward with shock. Was that..Amon? 

The other figure had medium length black hair, sunkissed skin, and Earth Kingdom attire. His ears were piercing azure, his features chiselled and his frame slimmer than ever. 

It couldn't have been anyone else. 

I sucked in my breath, hoping Amon couldn't register my racing heart. Did bending even work in this place? 

I listened closely. 

"She should be coming anytime soon, Noatak." the man smiled, his thin lips reaching from ear to ear. 

Amon scoffed. "My lieutenant is always punctual." he said, looking straight at me. 

***

Noatak 

The Spirit World was everything I had imagined it to be - ethereal, otherwordly, enchanting, alluring, deceiving. 

Just like the man that was talking to me. Zaheer, he said his name was. 

He had asked me to join his "Red Lotus" organisation. In return, he could organise a place to stay, protection from the government and a very sweet thing - redemption. 

Apparently, they were dedicated to freedom. Apparently, they were going to remove all corrupt leaders from their planet. Apparently, that would be what I want. Apparently, my mission for equality would be achieved in these processes. No more favouritism, no more discriminate laws. 

Zaheer was a non-bender. Yet, he worked side by side with benders to achieve his goal. While he was currently in prison for trying to kidnap the Avatar and raise her as his own, he would soon be freed. He could sense it, and I didn't doubt him. 

I felt a swell of jealousy at this mysterious man. How he could bring benders to justice without being one? He didn't have to lie about who he was? He was purely motivated for good reasons. 

Unlike me, who had gone too far with lies and power. 

And Zaheer knew this. So he offered me a chance to redeem myself. To prove that I was truly striving for equality, not power. 

The only condition was that both my brother and my lieutenant would be enlisted too. 

"My lieutenant would never agree to this!" I exclaimed. "Do you even know who she is?" 

"Of course. I've been keeping tabs on her through my connections." he murmured. "She's promising." 

I sighed. Fear had been welling deep inside of me since our last encounter. A lot of it was remorse, too. I was afraid that she could be more powerful than me. I was afraid at what she was capable of, if the rumours Tarrlok said were true. If she had really killed them all. But I was regretful of the pain I had caused her. Forcing her to bloodbend, bloodbending her myself, betraying her...and what had she really done? Lie to protect herself knowing that I would attack her if she told the truth? Now, that was hardly a sin. And also, a part of me was drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain. 

"I know." I said. "She might even be more powerful than me. But how are you going to meet with her and convince her to join?" 

"I have summoned her. She should be coming anytime soon, Noatak." 

I scoffed. "My lieutenant is always punctual." I turned around, sensing her presence. I locked my eyes with hers. 

She was peering through the canopy, her dark complexion tinged red as she realised she had been spotted. She walked out, exuding a confident facade I would've fallen for if I hadn't known her for so long. 

Her ebony hair was matted as she came to us, her lips dry and cracked. "So, you found me." she whispered hoarsely. Her voice was emotional, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly what emotion it was - anger, fear, remorse...

In the silver haze of the Spirits, she was beautiful. Her eyes were like the ocean, her figure was somewhat slim and tall, though not as much as my own. Her fingers were long as they knotted in her hair. Her hair was curled, running down her back in thick strands. She had always been somewhat fit from her Equalist training, but there was a subtle softness to her figure, the slight curve of her stomach, her wide hips and full thighs. Her face was defined, her cheekbones high, yet there was a certain fullness to it. 

I quickly looked away. 

"Who are you?" she said to Zaheer. "What do you want with me? What do you want with him?" 

She gave me a look of utmost disgust. I internally crumpled beneath it. 

"I'm here to propose an offer." Zaheer responded, unfazed by my lieutenant's attitude. "Join the Red Lotus." 

"What in the Spirits is that?"

I listened intently as Zaheer outlined the Red Lotus, and how they were going to liberate the world. He described 4 other members; Unalaq, P'Li, ghazan, and Ming Hua. 

They were all masters of unique sub-bending and/or bending styles. From Zaheer's compelling narrative, they seemed unstoppable. 

My lieutenant thought otherwise. "Look, that seems great and all, but why would I join?" 

Zaheer seemed to expect this query. "Because you want to rid the world of tyrants like your father. And you have the power to do so." 

Her eyes widened. "You know...how?" 

Zaheer shook his head. "You will find out, all in due time." 

I said nothing. 

"Join us, Amara. You have the power to change a world. How many lives like your sister's and mother's are lost everyday due to monsters like your father? Just like your family, my partner, P'Li was also taken advantage of by a cruel tyrant. There are so many others who continue to suffer in silence, but we can end that." 

He sounded so convicted by his own words. His own motives. 

"Do you want to end that, Amara?" he whispered, staring directly into her eyes. 

Amara gulped, her face morphing into a steely, resolute expression. 

"Yes, I do." 

"As I expected." Zaheer said. 

"Noatak and Amara, I welcome you to the Red Lotus." he nodded to both of us. My lieutenant's expression was unreadable. "We will meet again, in person." 

And then he just disappeared. 

Literally, his figure faded away.