AN: I was inspired by two or three other amorra fics, I will list them on here when I find them :) Also If people like this I might make a drabble series that follows a single plotline :)
She was five when she was stolen. One minute she had been asleep and the next she was being carried into the cold, snowy world. She had kicked and struggled, tried to bite and scream but the man who held her was too strong and quelled her resistance silently. She had cried, big heaving sobs because little Korra didn't want to leave her mommy and daddy. She didn't understand and she was scared. She peeked over the gloved hand that covered her mouth and saw more men in white clothes emerge from nowhere and converge on them. The way they moved was so... precise and calm, like a viper. They looked like ghosts and Korra had always been terrified of ghosts. She yelped and began her struggle again, trying with all her might to push away from the man holding her in his arms like a vice-grip. "Stop squirming!" The man hissed in her ear just before he boxed her on the temple. It was enough shock to quiet her, she had never been treated so roughly before. She had been spanked but never struck anywhere other than her bottom. She tried to be still, she tried, really she did, but those ghost men kept coming closer and it terrified her and she was swiftly reprimanded with a hard pinch on her arm. Through the mist and snow there was suddenly a boat, waiting on the shore. She was dropped roughly into the floor of the little vessel and the other men in white clothes boarded other small boats all around them.
Korra had never been at sea for so long before. It had been almost three days now. No one spoke to her, and only acknowledged her presence when she did something wrong and was backhanded or pinched for her misbehavior. She cried a lot the first night but she learned very hastily that crying was not permitted here, wherever here was. She had the bruises to prove that. So she held in her sobs and did not allow a single tear to slip from her eyes. When the third morning rolled around Korra found herself to be very seasick. She had been only been given a small amount of strange food that tasted funny and her empty stomach did nothing to ease the nausea from the rocking boat. She knew if she were to sick in the boat she'd be in trouble. What she didn't know was that when she dry-heaved over the side the boat she would also be punished. Her little heart broke with every hard glance or yank on her hair, pinch or smack. She didn't understand what she had done wrong, she woefully missed her parents and her mind could not comprehend the word kidnap.
Of course, she knew being stolen from her bed in the middle of the night was perversely wrong. She understood she was not to be separated from her parents because they often reminded her or that when they went into the market or out hunting. She didn't even want to be separate from her mommy and daddy, she loved them. She was their kid and they her parents, it was against everything in her inborn, hardly more than infantile, nature to be away from them.
Two more days passed and she had gotten weak, little water and next to no food had made her sick and very exhausted. She was barely aware that they had reached land and that she had been carried into a building, where it came from she did not know. She was placed on her wobbly legs in a room that was not large but comfortable enough. If she was a little more coherent she would have noticed the bookshelves, the pretty rug, the desk, the man. Man?
He was scary. This was all she knew of him. He wore a mask that made him look like a demon. It was the color of lion-walrus tusks and a blood-red circle in the center of the forehead. She peeped in surprise and then braced herself for a blow for making noise but it never came.
"Hello, Korra," he said gently. How did he know her name? "You look hungry. Would you like something to eat?"
She eyed him carefully, hoping it was not a trick she would be punished for. Despite the frightening mask he seemed nice enough, and the mere mention of food made her mouth water. So she nodded slowly, cautiously.
"Very good. I don't have anything with me right at this moment, but I will have something brought here. In the meantime, I think I just might have a cookie somewhere in here," he said kindly rummaging around in the desk draws. "Ah! Found it! I was just having some this morning, and they were very delicious, freshly baked I believe. Here you go." His arm was outstretched towards her across the desk. Her parents had warned her about this, taking candy from strangers... but did a cookie count as candy? She had never really figured that out. She was fearful that she would be struck for being so bold as to take it from him and she was still wary of the warning from her mother and father. She eyed the proffered treat, wishing so badly to take it gobble it up that she had to force herself to stay still. Just when she was about to walk over and take it, the door behind her opened. She started in surprise and then quickly backed herself closer to the walls, out of the way of the man with the funny mustache, the one that had been her nightmare for five days. She just knew she was in trouble somehow. She didn't think she had done anything wrong, but around this man, everything she did was a crime punishable by a hard hand.
She shrunk, dipping her chin into her fur-lined shirt. Someone had taken her coat on arrival. She thought that maybe if she could just make herself small enough, he wouldn't notice her. The man in the mask sat up straight and rigid in his chair when the mustache guy had come in. He talked in a voice that was harder and colder than the tone he had just spoken to her in. Her captor suddenly seemed to notice her cowering a few feet from him and her blood ran cold. She shrunk farther into her sweater as he approached. "Stand up straight, you dirty little peasant!" He scolded, raising his hand to strike her. She brace herself for the oncoming impact but a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Do not strike her, Lieutenant." It was the man with the mask.
"Sorry, Sir." Without warning four other people were in the room and the man in the mask started talking to them. Korra did not understand what they were talking about, but that was ok so long as she was left alone. She studied their faces with quick, stolen glances and found them to be the same people who had been in the boats. Would they take her away and hurt her, would they beat her right here in this very room? She was terrified and without really realizing it, inched closer to the desk where the man in the mask sat. Someone said something loud and it made her flinch.
"Come on, brat," one of them said. She dare not refuse them, but, her blood was so frozen in icy fear that she could not force her legs to move. The man raised his voice and commanded her to his side again.
"Now, now," the masked man said calmly. "No need for impatience, she is only a child." She felt her muscles relax a little. He was obviously in charge around here and he was sticking up for her. Her childish mind immediately pegged him as an object of shelter and safety. He had already kept her from being struck not five minutes ago. "You will all be kinder to Miss. Korra from now on. She is a very special guest. Come here little Songbird," he beckoned, his arm reaching out to. Her mind saw it as an invitation for safety, a wing to be gathered under and comforted. Perhaps even parented. So she crept towards him, hesitating. He was still a stranger, but he seemed less dangerous than the other people in the room. But she was also worried that it was trick and she would be punished for it. She hesitated at the corner of the big desk. Once she crossed into the territory behind it, she felt that there would be no turning around, no take-backsies. She was so conflicted within herself that by the time she had made a decision and moved around the desk, she was quivering.
The man picked her up under the arms and placed her on his lap, supporting her back with his arm curled securely around her waist. It was almost foreign to feel wanted and safe and the child with blue eyes gobbled it up desperately. "Have lunch brought to us. Dismissed." And then her tormenters were gone, just like that. This man had made them leave and had not allowed any harm to come to her while she was under his watchful eye. He handed her the cookie and she took it gingerly, taking little bites. She felt... good, for the first time in five days. "My name is Amon," his smooth, deep voice introduced in a tone that was easy and comforting.
Yes. Yes this Amon fellow could be trusted, she decided.