Kuvira dressed in a simple dark green sleeveless shirt and dark pants; after a short workout in the courtyard while the estate was still quiet, she ate a simple breakfast in silence before beginning whatever work Suyin had assigned her for the day.

Every morning began the same, and routine kept her mind busy, with no room for unnecessary thoughts.

The sentence of house arrest had never meant idleness. If anything, Kuvira had insisted on working. She repaired any mundane piece of metalwork: damaged irrigation systems, dented flowerpots, asymmetrical walkways. She also helped restore neglected gardens, sorted supplies, and organized storage buildings. Whatever Suyin asked of her, she completed without complaint.

Sometimes Kuvira worked until her muscles trembled from exhaustion. She welcomed it; physical fatigue was easier to carry than the weight in her chest.

Most mornings, the workers already tending the estate would acknowledge Suyin with smiles. They greeted one another warmly, shared jokes, talked about their families. Each word carried the ease born within the safe metal walls of Zaofu.

Then Kuvira arrived, and the conversations slowly ended. Someone suddenly remembered another task elsewhere, leaving the current one only half finished just so they could disappear around a corner. Gardeners quietly moved to another flowerbed, gathering their tools clumsily enough that a set of shears clattered to the ground. Young apprentices who had been laughing together lowered their voices until silence settled between them.

The distance always formed naturally, as if carried by instinct. As if the air itself bent around her. Kuvira never commented, made sure never to look offended, or display any feeling at all.

She simply picked up her tools and began working, fingers burying into cold dirt as she tucked a new seedling in its place. If she noticed—and of course she noticed—her expression never betrayed it.

Their fear wasn't irrational. It was earned.

The people of Zaofu had watched her march an army through these very streets. They had watched her imprison dissenters, threaten the city she had once called home, and nearly destroy the family that had raised her.

Sometimes mothers walking through the city with their children would notice her approaching. They would instinctively move to the opposite side of the path. The children always looked confused; sometimes curious, some even waved. The parents gently lowered the tiny hands before hurrying away.

Kuvira never blamed them; she couldn't. Not when she understood, with a clarity that never left her, exactly what she had become in their memories.

She could still recall the sharp finality of orders spoken without hesitation, the way fear had once straightened into obedience in her presence. She had called it order then; purpose, necessity, and had believed in it with every ounce of her being. Now, those same memories returned to her in quieter hours like echoes down an empty corridor, each one carrying a weight she could no longer set down.

Kuvira would pass through Zaofu and feel it in the smallest gestures, in each averted gaze of rejection; it all landed with a familiar, quiet impact—like a stone sinking into still water, spreading ripples she could not stop. She told herself, as she always did, that people had every right to want nothing but distance from her.

But understanding never dulled the ache; it did not make guilt and regret easier to carry.

Something inside her grew quieter each time it happened, not in peace, but in erosion. As if parts of her were slowly being worn down by the very silence she moved through, grain by grain, until even her thoughts began to feel distant from her own voice.

And still, what hurt most was not their fear. It was that she could not expect them to feel any differently.

So she walked through the silence she had helped create, carrying the knowledge that every step forward was also a reminder of what she had left behind.

───୨ৎ───

Late that morning, Suyin asked her to retrieve several maintenance reports from another wing of the Beifong estate.

Kuvira had accepted with a nod. She walked the familiar corridors with measured steps, hands folded neatly behind her back. The estate hadn't changed much. The polished floors still reflected the light from the tall windows; the same quiet hum of activity drifted through the walls, softened by distance and stone.

She remembered running through these hallways as a kid. Remembered arguing with Wing and Wei. Remembered playing hide and seek with Opal on the days they didn't argue over attention or broken toys.

Those memories belonged to someone who almost felt like a stranger now; Kuvira thought back on them with something bittersweet tugging at her heartstrings. A wistfulness for a time long gone.

With half her mind lost in thought, Kuvira rounded a corner. And someone else came rushing around it from the opposite direction at the same time.

The collision happened too quickly for either of them to stop.

A startled gasp escaped your lips as the stack of documents you carried burst into the air, pages scattering in every direction like scared birds taking flight.

You stumbled backward with the impact, your heel catching against the polished floor. Surely you would have fallen, hitting your back against the hard floor in what would've been an embarrassing way to get hurt—but Kuvira reacted on instinct.

One hand shot out to catch your forearm, closing around the fabric of your shirt with a firm grip. The other settled carefully around your waist, steadying you before you could hit the ground.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, everything stood still. The papers drifted lazily around you and her. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, catching tiny specks of dust floating between you.

And Kuvira found herself looking into unfamiliar eyes; warm, beautiful, and wide with surprise. The hand she had around your waist remained with a tight grip, subconsciously pressing part of your body against hers.

You stared at her with an intensity she wasn't used to, your chest heaving unsteadily with each breath and gaze darting back and forth over Kuvira's features. Dark auburn hair framed your face, still flushed with the shock of nearly falling, a few loose strands slipping free to brush prettily against your cheeks.

And there, resting behind your right ear and slightly tangled between your hair, was a small yellow flower with a slightly orange center. The unexpected sprinkle of color and delicacy stole the words from Kuvira's mouth, along with the timid start of a smile at the corner of your lips, as if ready to thank her for not letting you fall.

But your eyes… Kuvira found herself especially captured by them. Sunlight reflected against dark pupils, and still the warmth in your look rivaled that of the sun. Your lashes caught the corners of your cheeks when your smile almost reached them. And Kuvira couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her like that.

For just an instant, neither of you spoke.

Until Kuvira became strangely aware that she was still holding you. She cleared her throat, asking quietly; "Are you alright?" Her voice remained calm and measured, though there was a softness beneath it that made the words feel less like a polite question and more like something offered carefully, almost hesitantly. Her posture stayed steady, shoulders squared from years of discipline, but her hands loosened only after she was certain you had found your balance again.

Your eyes suddenly widened further when the sound of her voice shattered the strange spell that had momentarily settled between you; your breath caught so sharply it was almost audible. Recognition flooded your expression in a wave so immediate it seemed to drain the color from your face.

Not recognition of the woman standing before you. Recognition of who she had once been.

You stepped back so abruptly that Kuvira immediately released you, lowering her hands to try and look the least bit threatening she could muster. The familiar cold sting of rejection prickled her heart.

"I- I'm so sorry," You stammered, voice coming out thin and uneven. You immediately crouched to gather the scattered papers, movements quick and clumsy as you strived to keep your lungs working properly. "I wasn't looking where I was going." A lock of hair fell forward over your face as you bent, and you pushed it back with a hand that was still trembling. The movement caused the small yellow flower that had been resting behind your ear to fall, but you hardly seemed to notice it.

Kuvira knelt without thinking, moving to help you gather the papers.

"You don't need to-" You hurried to say, unable to look her in the eyes as your heart beat a mile a minute.

"It's fine." Kuvira reached for the same page you did.

You froze the instant your fingers nearly touched, hand hovering in the air for a beat too long. Then, with visible hesitation, you quietly withdrew it, tucking your arm back against your chest.

Kuvira caught it; she felt how you pulled away from her like a deep chill settling in her bones. Her gaze flicked briefly to your face, watching how you kept your eyes pointedly away from her; then to the paper, and something unreadable passed through her expression before she carefully picked up the document instead and held it toward you.

You accepted it so quickly that the paper nearly slipped from your grasp. "Thank you." And your voice fell as nothing but a breath.

In truth, you couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling twisting inside your stomach right now. When Kuvira was transferred back to Zaofu in her new sentence, Suyin had broken the news to you herself, speaking of how the former Great Uniter was trying to right her wrongs, to fix what she'd broken. And you knew that Su would never lie to you, or put the people of Zaofu in danger. And, if you looked at the woman kneeling before you now—with a dark braid falling over her shoulder and hazy sunlight softening the sharp lines of her features—you'd be lying if you said you didn't catch the restraint in each of her movements; as if she knew people would shrink away from her touch, from her very presence. And, damn your soft heart, part of you felt for her. But you also couldn't seem to forget that hers had been the face that stood before an army, with her chin held high and with sharp orders to conquer the city you called home.

Kuvira gave a small nod, her movements restrained and precise, as though she were trying to take up as little space as possible.

Another awkward pause stretched between you, filled only by the faint rustle of the remaining papers in your hands and the distant sounds of the estate beyond the hallway.

"I should… I should go." You gathered the remaining documents into an uneven stack, barely checking whether they were in order before clutching them tightly against your chest. You stood up in one sharp move, your entire frame tense with the effort of retreating politely without seeming rude. You gave Kuvira a brief glance, mustering a small smile, "Excuse me."

Then you were gone. Almost running down the hallway.

The silence you left behind lingered.

Kuvira remained kneeling for another moment, one hand resting lightly against the floor as she digested the tightness in her chest, before slowly standing. There was a slight pause before she straightened fully, as if the encounter had left her more unsettled than she wanted to admit.

The yellow flower that fell from your hair still lay on the floor, its petals slightly bent and crooked now. Kuvira retrieved it, carefully twirling the stem between her fingers as she looked toward the now-empty hallway to where you had disappeared, then quietly continued on her way.

Her face remained perfectly composed, every line of it carefully arranged into calm neutrality. Only the faint tightening of her jaw betrayed the ever-growing stack of buried feelings, stitched messily together and bound to someday break and bleed.

She carefully tucked the yellow flower into the pocket of her pants.

───୨ৎ───

The afternoon passed much like every other. Kuvira repaired broken stone edging around one of the western ponds. Adjusted the metal work on irrigation valves. Helped two workers lift heavy planting boxes into place, even though neither worker spoke to her beyond what was necessary. When they finished, they thanked each other. Neither thanked her; Kuvira simply inclined her head and continued working.

She told herself it didn't matter. That work wasn't done for recognition; work was simply work, something to keep her mind busy and especially to make herself useful in a city she had nearly destroyed.

Still, by the time evening approached, Kuvira found herself thinking about the frightened look in your eyes when you two bumped into each other. For a single moment, there had been that warmth in your gaze, reflecting sunlight and looking at her as if she were anyone but herself. And then there was the recognition: because she'd been holding you so close, Kuvira had watched, almost as if in slow motion, as your eyes widened with something cold and tense. And while she had been looking down at kind eyes and soft auburn hair, you had been looking into the sharp green eyes of the person that parents warned their children about.

It hurt to watch such a change happen in real time. Kuvira had expected it, but it hurt nonetheless.

And she didn't even know your name, but part of her already missed the brief warmth that you had looked at her with. No one had looked at her like that in a long, long time.

───୨ৎ───

Suyin's office door stood partially open, a thin wedge of warm lamplight spilling into the hallway and catching on the polished brass handle. Outside, night had settled almost completely, and the metal domes were ready to be closed at any moment.

Kuvira knocked lightly before pushing the heavy door open. "Su? I'm done with the-"

She stepped inside, only to halt her steps as she was halfway through the threshold.

You already stood beside Suyin's desk, carefully arranging several folders into neat stacks with quick, practiced hands. You had your head bent slightly as you worked, a loose strand of hair slipping forward over one cheek. You looked focused, entirely absorbed in the task until the sound of Kuvira's voice reached you.

The moment your eyes landed on Kuvira, every line of your body tightened. Your fingers paused over the folder you had been holding, and a faint flush of alarm rose in your face, as though you had been caught somewhere you had no business being.

"Oh." The word came out small and breathless. Your eyes darted briefly toward Suyin, as if silently asking whether you should stay or flee. "I… I'll come back to finish this later."

"Nonsense, you don't have to leave," Suyin began with an easy smile, glancing between you and Kuvira with the sort of patient calm that suggested she had already anticipated this exact reaction. "It's alright."

You offered a polite, hurried smile in turn that never quite reached your eyes. "It's okay, Su." You pushed the folders aside and out of Suyin's way before stuffing your hands in the pockets of your pants. "I actually just remembered I still have to deliver the festival schedules."

Before either woman could answer, you slipped past Kuvira with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgement, and disappeared out into the hallway.

The room became quiet. Not empty—Suyin was still there, the faint scratch of papers against wood still lingering in the air—but quiet in the way a room becomes after something delicate has been broken and everyone is pretending not to notice.

Kuvira watched the open doorway for a second longer; the sound of your footsteps grew ever more distant, swallowed by the night and the golden lights of the hallway. Kuvira's fingers tapped the side of her thigh in a restless rhythm before she turned back toward Suyin. "…Who is she?"

Suyin studied her for a moment before answering, her expression unreadable in the way only someone who knew Kuvira too well could manage. She moved around her desk, one hand resting briefly on the back of her chair. Su finally revealed your name, and then, "She's my new assistant."

Oh. Kuvira hesitated, trying to decide how to feel about the fact that she would surely be seeing you around quite a lot. "The one organizing the seasonal events?"

Suyin smiled faintly, the corner of her mouth lifting with a trace of dry amusement along with a quirk of her eyebrow. "And half the estate, if you ask me."

Kuvira nodded once, averting her eyes to somewhere on the portraits and books resting on the shelves of Su's office. "I see." The words were neutral, but her posture had gone subtly rigid. Her hands folded behind her back, fingers interlaced so tightly that the knuckles had gone pale beneath the skin.

Silence settled between them. It stretched. Not uncomfortable exactly, but weighted.

After the long pause, Kuvira spoke again. "We met earlier, briefly." She stalled, mulling over the words and debating whether she actually wanted to say them out loud. A sharp intake of breath and the twitch on Kuvira's brows were the only telling of her inner conflict. "She looked… frightened." Her voice remained even, controlled. The same calm tone she once used to discuss agreement terms with town governors.

Anyone else might have believed the observation carried no emotion at all.

Suyin knew better.

She had watched Kuvira grow up. She knew the difference between composure and concealment. She recognized the subtle rigidity in Kuvira's shoulders, the way her chin had lifted a fraction too high, the almost imperceptible tension in her jaw.

Suyin let out a breath through her nose, almost a sigh. Something like sympathy softened her expression. "She knows who you were. She had already moved to Zaofu when your army arrived."

Kuvira lowered her gaze for only a fraction of a second, long enough for the golden light from the lamps to catch on her lashes. "I figured as much."

Taking the few steps to close the distance between them, Suyin placed a hand on Kuvira's shoulder. The answer came softly, "I imagine she's trying to reconcile that with the person standing here now."

Kuvira gave a curt nod, holding her posture, unwavering. But when she finally spoke, her voice had gone quieter still. "I don't blame her."

"Kuvira-"

"She's being sensible," Kuvira managed the smallest smile, but it carried no warmth, no relief—only the faint, tired shape of acceptance. "Same as everyone else." The words landed heavier than either of them wanted.

Suyin held a pause, looking at the young woman she'd once raised, at the straight spine, the careful restraint, the way Kuvira seemed to hold herself together by force of habit alone.

For all her discipline, for all her composure, Kuvira still expected rejection before kindness. As though disappointment had become the safest expectation.

"With our festival on the way, I imagine you'll be seeing each other more often," Suyin tried, her voice taking on that familiar comforting tone. "She might come around quicker than others." Su ducked her head, trying to catch a glimpse of Kuvira's eyes. "Don't dismiss the possibility of having a friend, Kuvira. Part of making up for your mistakes is trying to build new connections with people you might've hurt in the past."

A flicker of poorly concealed vulnerability glinted in Kuvira's emerald eyes, soft under the dim light of the room. She released the grip on her own hands at last, loosening tense muscles. The prospect of having someone who didn't look at her as if she were a monster to be caged was something that got Kuvira's heart racing despite her efforts of trying to bury the feeling. The issue lay in the fact that she had no idea how to have a friend, or how to be deserving of one.

───୨ৎ───

Two days later, you stood beneath the shade of a flowering tree overlooking one of Zaofu's eastern gardens, reviewing plans for the upcoming Moon Blossom Festival.

The late afternoon light bathed the metal walls of the city in soft pink and warm orange, bouncing off intricate fountains and weaving in between tree leaves slowly dancing with the breeze. There was something undeniably serene about the afternoons in the metal city sometimes.

The paper in your hands was already beginning to soften at the edges from how often you had folded and unfolded it. You kept smoothing your thumb over the same crease near one corner, though you weren't really reading the words anymore.

Your attention kept drifting to the garden below—the careful geometry of the hedges, the bright ribbons of blossoms threaded through the paths, the workers moving with practiced ease between beds of color. Everything looked peaceful from up here, almost effortless. But you knew better than to believe that. Behind every polished railing and every perfectly trimmed branch was a dozen arguments about placement, timing, and whether the lanterns should be hung two inches higher or lower than last year.

You didn't notice Suyin approaching until the older woman stopped right beside you.

You straightened at once, a little too quickly, and tucked the papers closer to your chest before realizing you had done it. You only relaxed your shoulders with an embarrassed sigh once you realized who it was.

Suyin watched you with an amused grin and eyes soft with affection. "Everything coming together?"

"I think so." You smiled, though it came out a little tired around the edges. Past the outline of Suyin's figure beside you, the last rays of sun dipped below the mountains surrounding Zaofu.

"You think so?" She teased, bumping her shoulder against yours before glancing at the gardens below.

You let out a small huff of laughter and glanced back down at the plans, as if the answer might be hiding there if you looked hard enough. "I'll know for sure after the gardeners stop changing their minds every five minutes."

That earned a quiet laugh from Suyin, warm and familiar, the kind that made the tension in your shoulders loosen without you meaning it to.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out; you always do."

You stood together in companionable silence for a while, watching workers trim hedges into graceful spirals. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers up to where you stood, and you found yourself breathing a little slower. Suyin's presence had that effect on people—steady, grounding, impossible to ignore without feeling the absence of it.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, then back again. You had been meaning to ask something for a couple of days now, and the words had only grown heavier the longer you waited. Your fingers tightened around the papers until the edges bent slightly. Then you spoke, somewhat hesitantly. "…Lady Suyin?"

"Hm?"

You swallowed, looking down at the papers in your hands, suddenly fascinated by a line of handwritten notes you had already memorized. "Can I ask you something?"

A grin sneaked into Suyin's features. "You just did."

It stole a chuckle from you, the sound brief and a little nervous. "It's about… Kuvira."

Suyin held the silence with an attentive ease only she could pull off, and that somehow made you more aware of your own uncertainty. You could feel the question sitting in your chest like a stone. Once spoken, it could not be taken back. You kept your gaze on the garden below, where recently lit golden lanterns reflected off the metal edges of the walkways.

"I remember when her army arrived in Zaofu, when they marched in and took down the domes. I remember being scared." Your voice was quieter now, with a deliberate and careful edge to it; as if caught by a memory. "I know the things she did."

Another pause. The workers below continued trimming and arranging flowers as if nothing in the world had changed, as if the weight of history could be set aside for the sake of a festival. You wished, briefly and irrationally, that you could do the same.

"And I can…" You searched for the words, your brows drawing together as you tried to make sense of the knot in your own thoughts. "I can see how much she is trying to set things right. Redeem herself, I suppose. But… has she really changed?"

The question wasn't accusatory. Only uncertain. It was your way of trying to reconcile your memories with the feeling in your heart and figure out which was correct.

Suyin answered without hesitation. "Yes." The certainty in her voice made you glance up.

"Her actions hurt us all, but the Kuvira I've known since she was a little girl has never been a bad person. Even after I took her under my care, she had trouble finding where she belonged." Suyin continued, a pensive frown settling over her features as she stared down at the gardens. "When the Earth Kingdom was left behind in chaos, I think part of her saw her own past looking back at her. Part of it might have been my fault, too. I should've seen it; maybe I should've stepped up beside her." Suyin held a pause, feeling the weight of your gaze on her as she spoke. "But, what matters now is that in the end, Kuvira realized she had started causing more harm than good, that she'd strayed from her own path. She surrendered to Korra, and she wants to make amends."

"…Do you trust her?" You whispered, hoping for one answer more than the other.

"I do." Suyin finally turned her attention back to you, a soft, understanding smile playing on her lips. "I trust the woman she's choosing to become."

The distinction lingered between you, along with a charged silence for several beats.

You considered it carefully, digesting each and every word from Suyin. Your face shifted into something complicated, and Suyin didn't pressure you, giving time for the truth to settle in.

"I saw her the other day." You eventually found yourself blurting out, voice quiet as the words fell from your mouth of their own volition.

Suyin shifted her body toward you, just enough to show she was listening.

"In the hallway, as I was heading to your office." Your mouth tightened slightly as you remembered it. The sudden collision, the way Kuvira had caught you before you could fall, how completely caught off guard you'd been, unable to think of anything to say beyond a panicked excuse to walk away as soon as possible. "We sort of… bumped into each other," you admitted quietly. "I was startled; I didn't know how to react."

But you also remembered the hesitation in those sharp green eyes of hers, and how Kuvira had pointedly kept herself at a safe distance from you, as if to say you were never in any danger with her. And that sympathy that had bloomed in your heart that day came back all over again.

"That's alright, darling." Suyin's answer was gentle, without judgment. She placed a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezed once. "I'm sure she understands."

You looked down at your own hands, at the way your fingers had gone pale from gripping the papers too tightly. You loosened them with an effort. "But now I can't stop thinking… if maybe I was a little rude to her." You hesitated, then gave a small, self-conscious shrug, as if embarrassed by the honesty of what you were about to say. "She wasn't what I expected."

"No?" Genuine curiosity dripped from Su's voice.

You shook your head, biting at the inside of your cheek. "No." You still remembered how the sunlight looked when it had traced the outlines of Kuvira's features in something soft.

"It confused me." A quiet chuckle escaped you. "I think part of me was expecting someone more…"

"Scary?" Suyin finished for you, raising her brow.

"I guess so." You frowned softly. "But she is just… just a person."

Suddenly, your breath ran shallow. And you realized that the brief memory of Kuvira had already been carved behind your eyelids. "She has a kind voice." Your words came quietly, almost being carried away by the wind as your gaze grew distant and unfocused. "…And sad eyes."

You were too caught up in your own thoughts to realize the way Suyin had been staring at you. There was a gentle kind of surprise etched on the older woman's face, and the softest smile on her lips, painted with newfound hope.

Far across the paths and the gardens below, a lone figure worked quietly among rows of flowering shrubs. Bent over damaged irrigation channels, with her dark braid falling over one shoulder. Alone, as usual.

Even from this distance, there was something unmistakable about the way Kuvira moved; precise, as though every motion had been measured and refined until nothing unnecessary remained. She did not pause to look around, nor did she seem to notice the laughter of the workers nearby or the music drifting faintly from another part of the estate. She was tucked in her own corner of the garden, surrounded by bright red roses, and had found a way to keep herself busy enough that loneliness could not quite catch up.

"Kuvira's been helping maintain the gardens for the festival," Suyin said into the quiet, her eyes fixed on Kuvira far ahead. "She isn't much for conversation…" A faint smile touched her lips, but there was something thoughtful in it too. "…but no one deserves to spend every day completely alone."

Your eyes slowly drifted back toward the solitary figure in the distance. Kuvira hadn't noticed either of you. She simply continued working; trimming withered roses, fixing fallen branches, entirely by herself.

"I know you've been working more than you should because of the festival," Suyin added, glancing at you, her voice caring but also eager. "Maybe you two could help each other. I'm sure she'd be glad to lend you a hand."

You involuntarily took in a sharp breath as soon as Suyin's suggestion hit your ears. A chill found its way to your stomach, raising goosebumps on your skin.

Something stirred inside you. A kind of curiosity that unsettled you more than fear had. Fear was simple; fear told you where to stand, what to avoid, how to keep yourself safe. Curiosity asked questions you didn't know how to answer; it made you look longer than you intended; it made you notice details you might have preferred to ignore.

You remembered the warmth of the hand that had caught you just before you fell; the steady, safe grip. The careful distance Kuvira had put between you the moment she realized you were afraid. The sadness hidden beneath a face trained never to reveal it. You weren't sure what to make of the woman working alone in the garden. You weren't sure whether you were ready to trust her. You weren't even sure whether you should.

But as you watched Kuvira kneel beside a flowerbed—surrounded by countless red roses and vivid pink tulips, completely unaware that anyone was looking—you realized one thing with surprising certainty.

You weren't going to stop wondering.

And somehow, you already knew you were going to walk into those gardens.

୨ৎ

Autumn Crocus: Symbolizes rebirth, unexpected beauty, and transformation. Its leafless autumn blooms represent hope emerging from barren times.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･

Next chapter will be out soon

Kuvira’s taglist is open; let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this chapter. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

It started small. Toph had always hated unnecessary closeness; or at least that was what she claimed. She cursed at people for crowding her, shoved Sokka away when he got too dramatic, and threatened to bury Aang waist-deep in dirt if he fussed over her one more time.

And yet lately, you kept finding Toph near you. Not casually or accidentally; close in a way that felt deliberate, planned. When you walked together, Toph somehow always drifted until her shoulder brushed your arm. When you sat down to eat, Toph dropped beside you with natural insistence, knees touching and sometimes her leg even resting atop yours. When Appa flew, Toph sat close enough that your bodies remained pressed together through most of the ride; she leaned her weight against you as if you were steadier than the saddle.

At first, you thought nothing of it, thought that maybe you were imagining it, even if it got your heart jumping into your mouth each time. Then, you felt Toph's fingers hook loosely into the fabric of your sleeve while you walked one afternoon. She held on for a while, until changing her grip to your wrist, and eventually, loosely tangling her fingers with yours.

You had nearly smiled yourself silly. That was no accident.

Toph, of course, acted like she had done nothing. She could sense the somersaults of your heartbeat while she held your hand, and a proud grin stretched her lips. “Got something to say, sweetness?” she asked, only for you to hear.

You shook your head softly, blaming the sunlight for the warmth on your cheeks. “Nope.”

Toph swung your joined hands back and forth. “Hmph.”

That should have been the end of it. Instead, it got worse. Or better. Depending on whom you ask.

Sokka, ever observant, was the first to notice.

Evening had settled on their camp for the night. The sky was painted in a mix of purples, blues, and oranges. Crickets could be heard on the surrounding grass, and during dinner, Sokka narrowed his eyes across the crackling fire.

Still munching on his food, he not-so-sneakily leaned over to his sister sitting just beside him. “Okay,” he said in a whisper, gesturing toward you and Toph across from him. “What's been going on with those two?”

Katara hummed curiously, and her eyes slowly followed where her brother had pointed. You sat on the dry dirt, leaning back on both your hands, and Toph had all but thrown herself onto you, her head leaning comfortably against your shoulder and one of her hands resting atop your raised knee as she talked, and you nodded along.

“What do you mean?” Katara teased, a small, knowing smile already on her lips.

Sokka threw her a comically wide-eyed look, “What do you mean what do I mean?” His voice rose in pitch; “Toph hasn't let go of her since we made camp.”

“I'm not holding onto anybody.” Toph's voice cut through the quiet, loud enough to be heard over the fire. When the eyes of everyone fell onto her, she had the largest smirk on her lips, chin raised proudly as she made no effort to move away from you. The hand she had resting on your knee squeezed once.

All you could muster was to focus your eyes down on the burning fire as you bit the inside of your cheek so hard it nearly drew blood. Toph was a solid, warm presence against your body, and it nearly got you dizzy. And acknowledging it out loud made you even more aware of it.

Sokka huffed, yet an amused smile broke the fake annoyance. He crossed his arms over his chest and wiggled his eyebrows even if Toph couldn't see it. “If you two have anything to share with the class, I'm all ears.”

Katara gently shoved her brother's shoulder, biting back a chuckle of her own; “Just leave them be, Sokka.”

Toph snorted. “You know I hate gossip.”

That was all anyone would get out of her. And somehow, Toph became even less subtle after that. As though once people started noticing, she had simply decided she didn't care. And maybe she didn't. Toph had never been good at pretending to be something she wasn't. If she wanted you close, she wanted you close. End of discussion.

That night, the camp settled into silence. The fire burned low, reduced to glowing embers and soft warmth against the chill. Appa snored nearby, with Momo sprawled on top of his fluffy fur. Someone—probably Sokka—mumbled incoherently in his sleep.

You were snuggled in blankets, half asleep, drifting in that soft place between dreaming and waking. Listening to the gentle lullaby of a night under the stars.

Then, you felt movement. Soft and careful. A familiar presence crossing the earth with feather-light steps only possible for someone who understood every vibration beneath her feet.

Before you could fully wake, warm fingers slipped beneath your blanket; you felt the touch on your waist first, bordering on tentative before it grew bolder. A warm hand sneaking beneath your shirt, feeling the shape of your waist, while your blankets ruffled and the weight of a familiar presence settled close beside you. Then came the kisses. Light, tender, sleepy little brushes of lips against your cheek. Those lips lingered there before moving to your jaw, and then lazily traced a path to the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes finally fluttered open. And Toph was already there, curled into your space. One arm wrapped tightly around your waist, skin to skin, pulling you close with startling possessiveness. Her body pressed firmly against yours like she had no intention of leaving even an inch between you two.

A sound escaped your lips, half a sleepy groan and half a lovesick chuckle. The faint light of the fire was enough for you to make out a vague image of Toph; the orange light softly highlighted the muscles of her bare arm, and her hair had been pulled completely free of her usual bun, now falling messily around her face and over your small pillow.

On the next heartbeat, Toph tucked her face against your neck. Her breathing was warm, her lips brushing over your pulse point and placing a sloppy kiss there. Quiet. Needy.

You blinked, feeling a shiver go up and down your whole body when the sensation of her mouth on you got your breath running shallow. “Toph…?”

Toph only tightened her hold. As if waking you had been necessary solely so you could consciously hold her back. Both her arms snaked around your waist, holding you with the sort of strength only she could pull off.

Your expression softened immediately, a shaky sigh finding its way past your lips. You slowly slid both arms around Toph, careful not to rustle the blankets too much or wake the others. One of your hands found her hair, burying itself in between the dark strands as you selfishly leaned in; your lips brushed over her hairline, and you breathed her in.

Toph melted. Actually melted. Her entire body loosened the moment you embraced her, though she remained firmly attached, one leg slipping in between yours as if anchoring herself there.

You felt a smile tug further at your lips. You brushed Toph's hair back, fingertips gentle against her scalp as you reciprocated the gesture, pulling her tighter into your embrace. “What's gotten into you lately?” you whispered, nothing but a breath against her skin.

Toph didn't answer right away. She burrowed closer instead. Her nose brushed your neck, tracing a path from your pulse point to right under your ear. One hand clutched at the back of your shirt, bunching the fabric; the other pressed half moons into your skin.

For someone who projected so much iron and stone to the world, moments like this always felt almost shocking. Toph could be so soft. So desperate for closeness. So quietly vulnerable sometimes.

Finally, Toph mumbled into your skin, voice rough with sleep and something rawer beneath it. “I jus' wanna be with you.”

The words were so simple. So unguarded that your heart clenched in your chest. Toph rarely asked for anything directly. Need, especially, was something she usually buried under sarcasm, teasing, or stubborn silence.

But not tonight. Now she was here, wrapped around you like she needed the reassurance of warmth and touch and presence.

You brushed your fingers along the extent of her bare arm, until you found her neck, and then the corner of her jaw. You swiped your thumb over the skin there. “I'm right here,” you promised in a hush.

Toph exhaled shakily. Her mouth hanging open against your neck and her warm breathing fanning over your collarbone. Her fingers loosened against your back the slightest bit.

Your hand on her jaw gently guided her up until you could press a kiss between her eyebrows, then another over her eyelids, then one to her temple.

Toph tilted her face upward and grumbled softly, despite the smile tugging at her lips. “You're being mushy.”

Your nose bumped hers when you mimicked her smile. “And you woke me up for cuddles.”

A pause. Toph's breathing stumbled audibly with a soft gasp when she felt how close you were. Her fingers dug a little more insistently into your skin when her mouth parted with quiet yearning. “… Maybe.” The word fell clumsily past her lips.

The most formidable earthbender she may be, but she crumbled like sand under your touch.

At last, you caught her lips with yours, barely muffling the soft moan that escaped Toph. Both your hands held onto her jaw, tangling with her long hair as the feel of her skin beneath your palms and the softness of her lips moving against yours got you utterly intoxicated.

Toph, in turn, pulled you painfully close. Her strong arms around your body allowed not even air to come between you; her fingers pressed against your spine, leaving gentle marks there as telltales of her need. Her nose pressed into your cheek as she kissed you, trying to come as close as physically possible. She caught your lower lip between both of hers, softly brushing her teeth over it before soothing with her tongue.

The kiss deepened by instinct rather than intention, a careful surrender neither of you had exactly planned. It was not hungry in the sharp, obvious sense. It was fuller than that. Slower, a little sloppy as you learned each other's shapes for the first time. It held the pressure of all the almosts that had gathered between you for weeks; the shared silences, the sidelong glances, the touches that had grown bolder and bolder because neither could have enough of the other.

Toph kissed you as though she had been trying not to for too many days, and the restraint had finally broken in the most beautiful possible way.

In the darkness, with everyone else asleep and the world quiet around you, Toph allowed herself to simply cling to you. Allowed her hands to roam over your body unabashedly. No walls, no sharp words, no armor. Just her claiming what was hers.

Eventually, after what felt like too long and not long enough of unhurried kisses, you felt Toph's breathing slowly begin to deepen. She fought it, but sleep gradually pulled her under.

And even asleep, Toph refused to loosen her grip on you. A grin came to your lips, still sensitive, as you felt the ghost of Toph's kisses. You adjusted your arm under her, bringing her head to rest over your shoulder.

Toph groaned sleepily when you shifted; her arm instinctively tightened. Possessive, even unconscious. You suppressed a soft laugh, rubbing slow circles into Toph's back and bringing the blankets closer around your tangled bodies, until sleep began to claim you, too.

The last thing you felt before drifting off was Toph nuzzling faintly into your neck, seeking warmth even in dreams. As though her body knew only one thing with absolute certainty.

Here. With you. This was where she wanted to be.

The next morning, you and Toph were rudely woken up by a ridiculously loud shout of Sokka's voice: “I KNEW IT!”

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･

Toph’s taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

A frown settled on your features in the same moment; it's not like you were expecting anyone, much less at this hour of the night. And yet you had a nagging feeling deep inside your chest—much like worry but a little sharper—because you had an idea of who it could be.

Pulling your night robes tighter around your shoulders, you walked to the door. Your heart leaped to your throat as soon as you turned the handle and opened it.

Lin stood there, on the other side. Her metal uniform was nowhere to be seen; in its place, she wore only her dark pants and a long, dark brown coat. Raindrops darkened the fabric of her clothes even more; they clung to her hair and slowly rolled down her skin. But what truly caught your eye was the start of a blooming bruise right on the corner of her right jaw, just beside her scars; and how she pretended to have one hand on the pocket of her coat, when in reality, she was holding onto her side as if breathing had become a painful task.

It wouldn't be the first time Lin knocked on your door all battered and bruised, seeking refuge after an unkind day; even if she still never met your eyes as she did so, even if she still tapped the side of her thigh in a nervous rhythm as if waiting for you to reject her, to send her on her way to a cold and empty house instead.

You never did. And you never would. No matter how late the hour became.

You did, however, have to bite back tears each time. For one, because you didn't think it possible to physically feel your heart shattering inside your chest until the first time Lin showed up with her own blood on her clothes. For another, because it hurt you how much she still looked at you as if you were an anomaly, as if someone caring this much about her was still something that Lin struggled to understand and accept.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, mustering the best shaky smile that you could, as you watched your own trembling fingers reach out for her.

Lin inhaled sharply when your hand found hers, as if some part of her was still bracing for impact. Her green eyes blinked once, then twice, and they slowly found yours. Her eyes glistened under the cheap light of the corridor outside your apartment; unshed tears already clung to Lin's eyelashes. And she wouldn't let them fall here; you knew it. But when your fingers loosely intertwined with hers, Lin's grip tightened almost bruisely around your hand in the same heartbeat. A quiet, yet desperate, plea.

You took half a step forward, feeling your chest constrict around nothing, for your heart didn't belong to you anymore. Carefully, you brought your joined hands up, until your lips brushed against the knuckles of Lin's hand, and you placed a kiss there, and then two; just to be sure she understood the silent words etched in your very breathing.

In the same beat, Lin met you halfway. Her boots bumped into your slippers as she stepped forward, close enough so she could drop her forehead against your shoulder. And she stayed there, pressed onto you, allowing you to hold a little of her weight. A long, trembling breath fell past Lin's lips and against your collarbone. And at the same time you felt something damp seeping through the fabric of your night shirt, Lin nuzzled deeper against you.

She said nothing; she rarely ever did. And you never quite pressed. But Lin also knew, already, that you would never allow her to suffer in solitude again. Perhaps that's why, even with her uncertainty, she showed up at your door. On some days, your stubbornness rivaled hers; and on the day you had made her promise never to shut you out again, you had won.

"I uh-" Lin's voice came out raspy, quiet, and as if caught by something she was barely holding back. Her hand, still holding onto yours, squeezed once, grounding herself. She cleared her throat, tried again. "I'm going to take a shower."

You waited until she was ready to pull away and look at you again. When she did, you raised your free hand; your fingers ghosted over her scars, over the patch of skin slowly darkening with a bruise there, before you gently pushed stray locks of hair behind her ear.

You nodded, allowing your touch to linger a little longer. "Okay. I'll be here."

Lin stalled to let go of your hand, as if reluctant to do so. As if by letting go she'd be risking you leaving her. And just like every night, she held your gaze for an extra heartbeat, with her lips parting to ask if you meant it. Sometimes, on the worst nights, the words did escape her. But on most nights, she bit them back.

Outside the windows, rain had picked up its pace. It fell harder now, violent against the glass and the slick pavement of the streets.

Lin let go eventually; she walked into your apartment with the familiarity of someone who spent more time here than in her own house. Her brown coat found its place hung over the back of one of the dining chairs, left to dry off the raindrops.

And you watched as she disappeared into the bathroom. Yet the door was left ajar, with a thin strip of golden light bleeding into the hallway. A quiet, timid invitation.

Lin would never beg you to join her; she'd never beg for the comfort she so desperately wanted. But she left her little hints: a gentle tug at your hand, a door left open for you to follow. It was her way of never feeling like a burden. She would forever give you a choice; she would forever allow you to dismiss her if that's what you wanted.

You never did. Not even five minutes had gone by since the water from the shower had been turned on, and you were already pushing open the bathroom door.

Soft steam had already started to gather from the hot water; the mirror had gone foggy, and the shower curtain started to collect tiny water drops.

Quietly, you removed your clothes, choosing to ignore the small red stains on Lin's white tank top now resting on the floor. You swiftly put your hair up in a bun, and finally pushed open the shower curtain.

As soon as your eyes found Lin, you had to close them again; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to breathe. Lin's alabaster skin was a constellation of bruises and scratches; some were already turning from harsh red into a deep, unsettling purple. Her torso had taken most of the damage; there was a huge bruise blooming near Lin's ribs, and you could only hope she hadn't broken any. There was a prominent scratch running from the back of her shoulder and down to her spine that you had no idea how it had gotten there, and you weren't sure you wanted to know. And the mark near her jaw, now partly hidden by the wet hair framing her face, had only grown darker.

You could hear your own heartbeat; it tuned out the sounds of water hitting the shower tiles. Tears pooled in the bottom lid of your eyes, and you inhaled sharply to keep them at bay. "Lin…" Her name stumbled past your lips. Your hand, still gripping the shower curtain, nearly poked a hole through it.

And all Lin could do was purse her lips and avert her eyes. Because she knew, she knew the state she was in, and she couldn't make up her mind if it was even fair to be dumping the harsh realities of her life onto you. Lin brought both her arms around her in a gesture that was entirely unlike herself. Her nails pressed hard into the muscles of her own biceps, as if trying to hide some parts of her ugly marks from you.

She shrugged, just a weak shift of her shoulders. "Bad day." And she shuffled just a little further away, tucking herself under the falling water and allowing it to act as a barrier between you.

And yet that's what hurt you the most; that part of Lin believed she shouldn't be here, that she could somehow be a burden to you, that she tried to protect you from the painful and difficult sides of her, even if she was the one standing naked and hurt under a stream of water inside your bathroom.

Water trickled down her skin; it traced paths over the blooming bruises on her body and flattened her wet hair against her neck and shoulders.

And you couldn't bear to be even a second longer away from her. With two quick steps, you closed the distance between you and Lin. Under the falling water of the shower, your bare chest found her back, and both your arms slid carefully around Lin's waist.

The water fell all over your hair, but you didn't care. All you could feel and think about was Lin. Her skin was warm and soft beneath your touch, beneath the hands you so tenderly slid around her waist, until they found her abdomen and settled there, pulling her tighter against you.

Something between a gasp and a sob escaped Lin as soon as you reached her. She lowered her head with a quiet groan, and her hands instinctively searched for yours, tangling your fingers together and holding you securely against her.

You leaned your forehead onto the back of Lin's head, nuzzling there in between her wet hair until your lips found the curve of her neck. You placed a lingering kiss on her skin there, shifting one of your hands up until your thumb found the place right beside Lin's breast, near her thundering heart. For a suspended moment, you stayed there, feeling each rapid beat of her heart under your hand. Basking in the certainty that she was truly there, warm and alive, in your arms. "We'll make it better again," you spoke in nothing but a breath near Lin's ear.

Lin would never admit to how she'd stood strong for so many years, and yet a single touch from you had been enough to make her legs shake. She would never admit to how desperately she clung to you on nights like this, or how hungrily she kissed you on easier nights.

But Lin slowly turned around in your arms, refusing to stay even an inch apart as her bare chest pressed against yours. And her hands shook when they reached for your face, her thumbs tracing the outlines of your cheeks as if she feared you could be just a daydream. And her lower lip trembled when she opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came out. And, in between the shower stream, tears fell freely down her cheeks, tracing a path down until they dripped from her chin; and you knew, and Lin knew that you knew, yet both of you pretended that they were hidden under the falling water. And she leaned in until her forehead touched yours, and her nose bumped into yours, as if close wasn't close enough.

And that, was telling enough.

"All I wanted today was to come home." Lin's voice was nothing but a breath over your lips, unsteady and sounding like the tears that fell from her eyes.

Your own tears spilled over your lashes when you closed your eyes, nodding softly as she spoke. Both your hands pressed against Lin's back—mindful of her injuries there—your fingertips found the curve of her spine, and you pulled her decidedly into you. With a gentle turn of your head, your lips found her cheek; you pressed a lingering kiss over her scars, and then a softer one over the bruise on her jaw.

Lin fell against you. Both her arms closed around your shoulders, and she tucked her head into the crook of your neck. Her lips pressed over the wet skin of your pulse point, and her fingers carved half moons into your shoulders when she gripped you as if you could disappear.

Your own hands shifted up and down the muscles of her back, disrupting the path of the falling water from the shower as it hit her naked skin. The feeling of her body against yours was all-encompassing; you shifted your feet over the wet tiles, bringing yourself closer until you didn't know where her heartbeat began, or yours ended.

"You're home now," You promised, your lips brushing over Lin's skin with each word. "We are home."

Home, after all, had never been a place.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･

Lin’s taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

Kuvira dressed in a simple dark green sleeveless shirt and dark pants; after a short workout in the courtyard while the estate was still quiet, she ate a simple breakfast in silence before beginning whatever work Suyin had assigned her for the day.

Every morning began the same, and routine kept her mind busy, with no room for unnecessary thoughts.

The sentence of house arrest had never meant idleness. If anything, Kuvira had insisted on working. She repaired any mundane piece of metalwork: damaged irrigation systems, dented flowerpots, asymmetrical walkways. She also helped restore neglected gardens, sorted supplies, and organized storage buildings. Whatever Suyin asked of her, she completed without complaint.

Sometimes Kuvira worked until her muscles trembled from exhaustion. She welcomed it; physical fatigue was easier to carry than the weight in her chest.

Most mornings, the workers already tending the estate would acknowledge Suyin with smiles. They greeted one another warmly, shared jokes, talked about their families. Each word carried the ease born within the safe metal walls of Zaofu.

Then Kuvira arrived, and the conversations slowly ended. Someone suddenly remembered another task elsewhere, leaving the current one only half finished just so they could disappear around a corner. Gardeners quietly moved to another flowerbed, gathering their tools clumsily enough that a set of shears clattered to the ground. Young apprentices who had been laughing together lowered their voices until silence settled between them.

The distance always formed naturally, as if carried by instinct. As if the air itself bent around her. Kuvira never commented, made sure never to look offended, or display any feeling at all.

She simply picked up her tools and began working, fingers burying into cold dirt as she tucked a new seedling in its place. If she noticed—and of course she noticed—her expression never betrayed it.

Their fear wasn't irrational. It was earned.

The people of Zaofu had watched her march an army through these very streets. They had watched her imprison dissenters, threaten the city she had once called home, and nearly destroy the family that had raised her.

Sometimes mothers walking through the city with their children would notice her approaching. They would instinctively move to the opposite side of the path. The children always looked confused; sometimes curious, some even waved. The parents gently lowered the tiny hands before hurrying away.

Kuvira never blamed them; she couldn't. Not when she understood, with a clarity that never left her, exactly what she had become in their memories.

She could still recall the sharp finality of orders spoken without hesitation, the way fear had once straightened into obedience in her presence. She had called it order then; purpose, necessity, and had believed in it with every ounce of her being. Now, those same memories returned to her in quieter hours like echoes down an empty corridor, each one carrying a weight she could no longer set down.

Kuvira would pass through Zaofu and feel it in the smallest gestures, in each averted gaze of rejection; it all landed with a familiar, quiet impact—like a stone sinking into still water, spreading ripples she could not stop. She told herself, as she always did, that people had every right to want nothing but distance from her.

But understanding never dulled the ache; it did not make guilt and regret easier to carry.

Something inside her grew quieter each time it happened, not in peace, but in erosion. As if parts of her were slowly being worn down by the very silence she moved through, grain by grain, until even her thoughts began to feel distant from her own voice.

And still, what hurt most was not their fear. It was that she could not expect them to feel any differently.

So she walked through the silence she had helped create, carrying the knowledge that every step forward was also a reminder of what she had left behind.

───୨ৎ───

Late that morning, Suyin asked her to retrieve several maintenance reports from another wing of the Beifong estate.

Kuvira had accepted with a nod. She walked the familiar corridors with measured steps, hands folded neatly behind her back. The estate hadn't changed much. The polished floors still reflected the light from the tall windows; the same quiet hum of activity drifted through the walls, softened by distance and stone.

She remembered running through these hallways as a kid. Remembered arguing with Wing and Wei. Remembered playing hide and seek with Opal on the days they didn't argue over attention or broken toys.

Those memories belonged to someone who almost felt like a stranger now; Kuvira thought back on them with something bittersweet tugging at her heartstrings. A wistfulness for a time long gone.

With half her mind lost in thought, Kuvira rounded a corner. And someone else came rushing around it from the opposite direction at the same time.

The collision happened too quickly for either of them to stop.

A startled gasp escaped your lips as the stack of documents you carried burst into the air, pages scattering in every direction like scared birds taking flight.

You stumbled backward with the impact, your heel catching against the polished floor. Surely you would have fallen, hitting your back against the hard floor in what would've been an embarrassing way to get hurt—but Kuvira reacted on instinct.

One hand shot out to catch your forearm, closing around the fabric of your shirt with a firm grip. The other settled carefully around your waist, steadying you before you could hit the ground.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, everything stood still. The papers drifted lazily around you and her. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, catching tiny specks of dust floating between you.

And Kuvira found herself looking into unfamiliar eyes; warm, beautiful, and wide with surprise. The hand she had around your waist remained with a tight grip, subconsciously pressing part of your body against hers.

You stared at her with an intensity she wasn't used to, your chest heaving unsteadily with each breath and gaze darting back and forth over Kuvira's features. Dark auburn hair framed your face, still flushed with the shock of nearly falling, a few loose strands slipping free to brush prettily against your cheeks.

And there, resting behind your right ear and slightly tangled between your hair, was a small yellow flower with a slightly orange center. The unexpected sprinkle of color and delicacy stole the words from Kuvira's mouth, along with the timid start of a smile at the corner of your lips, as if ready to thank her for not letting you fall.

But your eyes… Kuvira found herself especially captured by them. Sunlight reflected against dark pupils, and still the warmth in your look rivaled that of the sun. Your lashes caught the corners of your cheeks when your smile almost reached them. And Kuvira couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her like that.

For just an instant, neither of you spoke.

Until Kuvira became strangely aware that she was still holding you. She cleared her throat, asking quietly; "Are you alright?" Her voice remained calm and measured, though there was a softness beneath it that made the words feel less like a polite question and more like something offered carefully, almost hesitantly. Her posture stayed steady, shoulders squared from years of discipline, but her hands loosened only after she was certain you had found your balance again.

Your eyes suddenly widened further when the sound of her voice shattered the strange spell that had momentarily settled between you; your breath caught so sharply it was almost audible. Recognition flooded your expression in a wave so immediate it seemed to drain the color from your face.

Not recognition of the woman standing before you. Recognition of who she had once been.

You stepped back so abruptly that Kuvira immediately released you, lowering her hands to try and look the least bit threatening she could muster. The familiar cold sting of rejection prickled her heart.

"I- I'm so sorry," You stammered, voice coming out thin and uneven. You immediately crouched to gather the scattered papers, movements quick and clumsy as you strived to keep your lungs working properly. "I wasn't looking where I was going." A lock of hair fell forward over your face as you bent, and you pushed it back with a hand that was still trembling. The movement caused the small yellow flower that had been resting behind your ear to fall, but you hardly seemed to notice it.

Kuvira knelt without thinking, moving to help you gather the papers.

"You don't need to-" You hurried to say, unable to look her in the eyes as your heart beat a mile a minute.

"It's fine." Kuvira reached for the same page you did.

You froze the instant your fingers nearly touched, hand hovering in the air for a beat too long. Then, with visible hesitation, you quietly withdrew it, tucking your arm back against your chest.

Kuvira caught it; she felt how you pulled away from her like a deep chill settling in her bones. Her gaze flicked briefly to your face, watching how you kept your eyes pointedly away from her; then to the paper, and something unreadable passed through her expression before she carefully picked up the document instead and held it toward you.

You accepted it so quickly that the paper nearly slipped from your grasp. "Thank you." And your voice fell as nothing but a breath.

In truth, you couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling twisting inside your stomach right now. When Kuvira was transferred back to Zaofu in her new sentence, Suyin had broken the news to you herself, speaking of how the former Great Uniter was trying to right her wrongs, to fix what she'd broken. And you knew that Su would never lie to you, or put the people of Zaofu in danger. And, if you looked at the woman kneeling before you now—with a dark braid falling over her shoulder and hazy sunlight softening the sharp lines of her features—you'd be lying if you said you didn't catch the restraint in each of her movements; as if she knew people would shrink away from her touch, from her very presence. And, damn your soft heart, part of you felt for her. But you also couldn't seem to forget that hers had been the face that stood before an army, with her chin held high and with sharp orders to conquer the city you called home.

Kuvira gave a small nod, her movements restrained and precise, as though she were trying to take up as little space as possible.

Another awkward pause stretched between you, filled only by the faint rustle of the remaining papers in your hands and the distant sounds of the estate beyond the hallway.

"I should… I should go." You gathered the remaining documents into an uneven stack, barely checking whether they were in order before clutching them tightly against your chest. You stood up in one sharp move, your entire frame tense with the effort of retreating politely without seeming rude. You gave Kuvira a brief glance, mustering a small smile, "Excuse me."

Then you were gone. Almost running down the hallway.

The silence you left behind lingered.

Kuvira remained kneeling for another moment, one hand resting lightly against the floor as she digested the tightness in her chest, before slowly standing. There was a slight pause before she straightened fully, as if the encounter had left her more unsettled than she wanted to admit.

The yellow flower that fell from your hair still lay on the floor, its petals slightly bent and crooked now. Kuvira retrieved it, carefully twirling the stem between her fingers as she looked toward the now-empty hallway to where you had disappeared, then quietly continued on her way.

Her face remained perfectly composed, every line of it carefully arranged into calm neutrality. Only the faint tightening of her jaw betrayed the ever-growing stack of buried feelings, stitched messily together and bound to someday break and bleed.

She carefully tucked the yellow flower into the pocket of her pants.

───୨ৎ───

The afternoon passed much like every other. Kuvira repaired broken stone edging around one of the western ponds. Adjusted the metal work on irrigation valves. Helped two workers lift heavy planting boxes into place, even though neither worker spoke to her beyond what was necessary. When they finished, they thanked each other. Neither thanked her; Kuvira simply inclined her head and continued working.

She told herself it didn't matter. That work wasn't done for recognition; work was simply work, something to keep her mind busy and especially to make herself useful in a city she had nearly destroyed.

Still, by the time evening approached, Kuvira found herself thinking about the frightened look in your eyes when you two bumped into each other. For a single moment, there had been that warmth in your gaze, reflecting sunlight and looking at her as if she were anyone but herself. And then there was the recognition: because she'd been holding you so close, Kuvira had watched, almost as if in slow motion, as your eyes widened with something cold and tense. And while she had been looking down at kind eyes and soft auburn hair, you had been looking into the sharp green eyes of the person that parents warned their children about.

It hurt to watch such a change happen in real time. Kuvira had expected it, but it hurt nonetheless.

And she didn't even know your name, but part of her already missed the brief warmth that you had looked at her with. No one had looked at her like that in a long, long time.

───୨ৎ───

Suyin's office door stood partially open, a thin wedge of warm lamplight spilling into the hallway and catching on the polished brass handle. Outside, night had settled almost completely, and the metal domes were ready to be closed at any moment.

Kuvira knocked lightly before pushing the heavy door open. "Su? I'm done with the-"

She stepped inside, only to halt her steps as she was halfway through the threshold.

You already stood beside Suyin's desk, carefully arranging several folders into neat stacks with quick, practiced hands. You had your head bent slightly as you worked, a loose strand of hair slipping forward over one cheek. You looked focused, entirely absorbed in the task until the sound of Kuvira's voice reached you.

The moment your eyes landed on Kuvira, every line of your body tightened. Your fingers paused over the folder you had been holding, and a faint flush of alarm rose in your face, as though you had been caught somewhere you had no business being.

"Oh." The word came out small and breathless. Your eyes darted briefly toward Suyin, as if silently asking whether you should stay or flee. "I… I'll come back to finish this later."

"Nonsense, you don't have to leave," Suyin began with an easy smile, glancing between you and Kuvira with the sort of patient calm that suggested she had already anticipated this exact reaction. "It's alright."

You offered a polite, hurried smile in turn that never quite reached your eyes. "It's okay, Su." You pushed the folders aside and out of Suyin's way before stuffing your hands in the pockets of your pants. "I actually just remembered I still have to deliver the festival schedules."

Before either woman could answer, you slipped past Kuvira with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgement, and disappeared out into the hallway.

The room became quiet. Not empty—Suyin was still there, the faint scratch of papers against wood still lingering in the air—but quiet in the way a room becomes after something delicate has been broken and everyone is pretending not to notice.

Kuvira watched the open doorway for a second longer; the sound of your footsteps grew ever more distant, swallowed by the night and the golden lights of the hallway. Kuvira's fingers tapped the side of her thigh in a restless rhythm before she turned back toward Suyin. "…Who is she?"

Suyin studied her for a moment before answering, her expression unreadable in the way only someone who knew Kuvira too well could manage. She moved around her desk, one hand resting briefly on the back of her chair. Su finally revealed your name, and then, "She's my new assistant."

Oh. Kuvira hesitated, trying to decide how to feel about the fact that she would surely be seeing you around quite a lot. "The one organizing the seasonal events?"

Suyin smiled faintly, the corner of her mouth lifting with a trace of dry amusement along with a quirk of her eyebrow. "And half the estate, if you ask me."

Kuvira nodded once, averting her eyes to somewhere on the portraits and books resting on the shelves of Su's office. "I see." The words were neutral, but her posture had gone subtly rigid. Her hands folded behind her back, fingers interlaced so tightly that the knuckles had gone pale beneath the skin.

Silence settled between them. It stretched. Not uncomfortable exactly, but weighted.

After the long pause, Kuvira spoke again. "We met earlier, briefly." She stalled, mulling over the words and debating whether she actually wanted to say them out loud. A sharp intake of breath and the twitch on Kuvira's brows were the only telling of her inner conflict. "She looked… frightened." Her voice remained even, controlled. The same calm tone she once used to discuss agreement terms with town governors.

Anyone else might have believed the observation carried no emotion at all.

Suyin knew better.

She had watched Kuvira grow up. She knew the difference between composure and concealment. She recognized the subtle rigidity in Kuvira's shoulders, the way her chin had lifted a fraction too high, the almost imperceptible tension in her jaw.

Suyin let out a breath through her nose, almost a sigh. Something like sympathy softened her expression. "She knows who you were. She had already moved to Zaofu when your army arrived."

Kuvira lowered her gaze for only a fraction of a second, long enough for the golden light from the lamps to catch on her lashes. "I figured as much."

Taking the few steps to close the distance between them, Suyin placed a hand on Kuvira's shoulder. The answer came softly, "I imagine she's trying to reconcile that with the person standing here now."

Kuvira gave a curt nod, holding her posture, unwavering. But when she finally spoke, her voice had gone quieter still. "I don't blame her."

"Kuvira-"

"She's being sensible," Kuvira managed the smallest smile, but it carried no warmth, no relief—only the faint, tired shape of acceptance. "Same as everyone else." The words landed heavier than either of them wanted.

Suyin held a pause, looking at the young woman she'd once raised, at the straight spine, the careful restraint, the way Kuvira seemed to hold herself together by force of habit alone.

For all her discipline, for all her composure, Kuvira still expected rejection before kindness. As though disappointment had become the safest expectation.

"With our festival on the way, I imagine you'll be seeing each other more often," Suyin tried, her voice taking on that familiar comforting tone. "She might come around quicker than others." Su ducked her head, trying to catch a glimpse of Kuvira's eyes. "Don't dismiss the possibility of having a friend, Kuvira. Part of making up for your mistakes is trying to build new connections with people you might've hurt in the past."

A flicker of poorly concealed vulnerability glinted in Kuvira's emerald eyes, soft under the dim light of the room. She released the grip on her own hands at last, loosening tense muscles. The prospect of having someone who didn't look at her as if she were a monster to be caged was something that got Kuvira's heart racing despite her efforts of trying to bury the feeling. The issue lay in the fact that she had no idea how to have a friend, or how to be deserving of one.

───୨ৎ───

Two days later, you stood beneath the shade of a flowering tree overlooking one of Zaofu's eastern gardens, reviewing plans for the upcoming Moon Blossom Festival.

The late afternoon light bathed the metal walls of the city in soft pink and warm orange, bouncing off intricate fountains and weaving in between tree leaves slowly dancing with the breeze. There was something undeniably serene about the afternoons in the metal city sometimes.

The paper in your hands was already beginning to soften at the edges from how often you had folded and unfolded it. You kept smoothing your thumb over the same crease near one corner, though you weren't really reading the words anymore.

Your attention kept drifting to the garden below—the careful geometry of the hedges, the bright ribbons of blossoms threaded through the paths, the workers moving with practiced ease between beds of color. Everything looked peaceful from up here, almost effortless. But you knew better than to believe that. Behind every polished railing and every perfectly trimmed branch was a dozen arguments about placement, timing, and whether the lanterns should be hung two inches higher or lower than last year.

You didn't notice Suyin approaching until the older woman stopped right beside you.

You straightened at once, a little too quickly, and tucked the papers closer to your chest before realizing you had done it. You only relaxed your shoulders with an embarrassed sigh once you realized who it was.

Suyin watched you with an amused grin and eyes soft with affection. "Everything coming together?"

"I think so." You smiled, though it came out a little tired around the edges. Past the outline of Suyin's figure beside you, the last rays of sun dipped below the mountains surrounding Zaofu.

"You think so?" She teased, bumping her shoulder against yours before glancing at the gardens below.

You let out a small huff of laughter and glanced back down at the plans, as if the answer might be hiding there if you looked hard enough. "I'll know for sure after the gardeners stop changing their minds every five minutes."

That earned a quiet laugh from Suyin, warm and familiar, the kind that made the tension in your shoulders loosen without you meaning it to.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out; you always do."

You stood together in companionable silence for a while, watching workers trim hedges into graceful spirals. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers up to where you stood, and you found yourself breathing a little slower. Suyin's presence had that effect on people—steady, grounding, impossible to ignore without feeling the absence of it.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, then back again. You had been meaning to ask something for a couple of days now, and the words had only grown heavier the longer you waited. Your fingers tightened around the papers until the edges bent slightly. Then you spoke, somewhat hesitantly. "…Lady Suyin?"

"Hm?"

You swallowed, looking down at the papers in your hands, suddenly fascinated by a line of handwritten notes you had already memorized. "Can I ask you something?"

A grin sneaked into Suyin's features. "You just did."

It stole a chuckle from you, the sound brief and a little nervous. "It's about… Kuvira."

Suyin held the silence with an attentive ease only she could pull off, and that somehow made you more aware of your own uncertainty. You could feel the question sitting in your chest like a stone. Once spoken, it could not be taken back. You kept your gaze on the garden below, where recently lit golden lanterns reflected off the metal edges of the walkways.

"I remember when her army arrived in Zaofu, when they marched in and took down the domes. I remember being scared." Your voice was quieter now, with a deliberate and careful edge to it; as if caught by a memory. "I know the things she did."

Another pause. The workers below continued trimming and arranging flowers as if nothing in the world had changed, as if the weight of history could be set aside for the sake of a festival. You wished, briefly and irrationally, that you could do the same.

"And I can…" You searched for the words, your brows drawing together as you tried to make sense of the knot in your own thoughts. "I can see how much she is trying to set things right. Redeem herself, I suppose. But… has she really changed?"

The question wasn't accusatory. Only uncertain. It was your way of trying to reconcile your memories with the feeling in your heart and figure out which was correct.

Suyin answered without hesitation. "Yes." The certainty in her voice made you glance up.

"Her actions hurt us all, but the Kuvira I've known since she was a little girl has never been a bad person. Even after I took her under my care, she had trouble finding where she belonged." Suyin continued, a pensive frown settling over her features as she stared down at the gardens. "When the Earth Kingdom was left behind in chaos, I think part of her saw her own past looking back at her. Part of it might have been my fault, too. I should've seen it; maybe I should've stepped up beside her." Suyin held a pause, feeling the weight of your gaze on her as she spoke. "But, what matters now is that in the end, Kuvira realized she had started causing more harm than good, that she'd strayed from her own path. She surrendered to Korra, and she wants to make amends."

"…Do you trust her?" You whispered, hoping for one answer more than the other.

"I do." Suyin finally turned her attention back to you, a soft, understanding smile playing on her lips. "I trust the woman she's choosing to become."

The distinction lingered between you, along with a charged silence for several beats.

You considered it carefully, digesting each and every word from Suyin. Your face shifted into something complicated, and Suyin didn't pressure you, giving time for the truth to settle in.

"I saw her the other day." You eventually found yourself blurting out, voice quiet as the words fell from your mouth of their own volition.

Suyin shifted her body toward you, just enough to show she was listening.

"In the hallway, as I was heading to your office." Your mouth tightened slightly as you remembered it. The sudden collision, the way Kuvira had caught you before you could fall, how completely caught off guard you'd been, unable to think of anything to say beyond a panicked excuse to walk away as soon as possible. "We sort of… bumped into each other," you admitted quietly. "I was startled; I didn't know how to react."

But you also remembered the hesitation in those sharp green eyes of hers, and how Kuvira had pointedly kept herself at a safe distance from you, as if to say you were never in any danger with her. And that sympathy that had bloomed in your heart that day came back all over again.

"That's alright, darling." Suyin's answer was gentle, without judgment. She placed a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezed once. "I'm sure she understands."

You looked down at your own hands, at the way your fingers had gone pale from gripping the papers too tightly. You loosened them with an effort. "But now I can't stop thinking… if maybe I was a little rude to her." You hesitated, then gave a small, self-conscious shrug, as if embarrassed by the honesty of what you were about to say. "She wasn't what I expected."

"No?" Genuine curiosity dripped from Su's voice.

You shook your head, biting at the inside of your cheek. "No." You still remembered how the sunlight looked when it had traced the outlines of Kuvira's features in something soft.

"It confused me." A quiet chuckle escaped you. "I think part of me was expecting someone more…"

"Scary?" Suyin finished for you, raising her brow.

"I guess so." You frowned softly. "But she is just… just a person."

Suddenly, your breath ran shallow. And you realized that the brief memory of Kuvira had already been carved behind your eyelids. "She has a kind voice." Your words came quietly, almost being carried away by the wind as your gaze grew distant and unfocused. "…And sad eyes."

You were too caught up in your own thoughts to realize the way Suyin had been staring at you. There was a gentle kind of surprise etched on the older woman's face, and the softest smile on her lips, painted with newfound hope.

Far across the paths and the gardens below, a lone figure worked quietly among rows of flowering shrubs. Bent over damaged irrigation channels, with her dark braid falling over one shoulder. Alone, as usual.

Even from this distance, there was something unmistakable about the way Kuvira moved; precise, as though every motion had been measured and refined until nothing unnecessary remained. She did not pause to look around, nor did she seem to notice the laughter of the workers nearby or the music drifting faintly from another part of the estate. She was tucked in her own corner of the garden, surrounded by bright red roses, and had found a way to keep herself busy enough that loneliness could not quite catch up.

"Kuvira's been helping maintain the gardens for the festival," Suyin said into the quiet, her eyes fixed on Kuvira far ahead. "She isn't much for conversation…" A faint smile touched her lips, but there was something thoughtful in it too. "…but no one deserves to spend every day completely alone."

Your eyes slowly drifted back toward the solitary figure in the distance. Kuvira hadn't noticed either of you. She simply continued working; trimming withered roses, fixing fallen branches, entirely by herself.

"I know you've been working more than you should because of the festival," Suyin added, glancing at you, her voice caring but also eager. "Maybe you two could help each other. I'm sure she'd be glad to lend you a hand."

You involuntarily took in a sharp breath as soon as Suyin's suggestion hit your ears. A chill found its way to your stomach, raising goosebumps on your skin.

Something stirred inside you. A kind of curiosity that unsettled you more than fear had. Fear was simple; fear told you where to stand, what to avoid, how to keep yourself safe. Curiosity asked questions you didn't know how to answer; it made you look longer than you intended; it made you notice details you might have preferred to ignore.

You remembered the warmth of the hand that had caught you just before you fell; the steady, safe grip. The careful distance Kuvira had put between you the moment she realized you were afraid. The sadness hidden beneath a face trained never to reveal it. You weren't sure what to make of the woman working alone in the garden. You weren't sure whether you were ready to trust her. You weren't even sure whether you should.

But as you watched Kuvira kneel beside a flowerbed—surrounded by countless red roses and vivid pink tulips, completely unaware that anyone was looking—you realized one thing with surprising certainty.

You weren't going to stop wondering.

And somehow, you already knew you were going to walk into those gardens.

୨ৎ

Autumn Crocus: Symbolizes rebirth, unexpected beauty, and transformation. Its leafless autumn blooms represent hope emerging from barren times.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･

Next chapter will be out soon

Kuvira’s taglist is open; let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this chapter. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3