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

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