(Synopsis: Amon muses at how frustrating his life has become since the Avatar waltzed into it and he argues… With himself.
Pairings: Amorra/Noarra, Lieumon
Rating: Soft M
Word count: 4,132)
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He is not a morning person, not at all, not after living in the dark so long, and waking up really is what he hates the most. It's not as if his dreams supply any comfort, in fact he doesn't dream that much to begin with, and he's not particularly fond of making himself vulnerable and disconnecting from the world through sleep, yet waking up is the part of the day that he most detests… Who wouldn't hate it if they never knew who they were going to wake up as?
This morning is no different in that aspect but the murmur of city noise is starting to make itself heard outside and he cannot ignore the call of wakefulness any longer. He blinks once, and then twice, trying to ascertain if what he's looking at is real or just one of his rare dreams.
A naked figure shifts in its sleep and presses closer, the smell of smoke and moon-blossom soap on her hair and skin can't truly conceal the scent of clean sweat, and the way her bare body presses to him makes him all too aware of his own nudity.
«…No.» The conclusion comes to him with dismay. «No, no, no. What has that fool done?!» The angry question resounds in his head, outraged, while he groggily tries to recall the details of the night before, sitting on the edge of the bed and inching away from the naked woman in disgust. He just hopes she won't wake up in the process.
Images, memories, start to flood back. In his mind's eye he can see them in frighteningly vivid detail- he sees the bar that he finds cheap and squalid but still frequents much too often, he sees the beautiful powerful girl that awaits him, looking like the overly sassy warrior she is; he recalls how they speak of serious matters and of silly things and the familiar way she smirks and says Noatak's name so fondly.
He remembers walking to this inn in the quiet of the night, the girl practically hanging on his arm and the cool breeze blowing her hair into a living mess around her face, he can still feel the way those dark strands felt on his fingers when he combed them away from her eyes.
He recalls barging blindly into the room and knocking over a lamp because he was too busy groping the girl whose lips were glued to his, and paid no attention to the surroundings. The taste of her breath, ginger and chili ale, still lingers on his lips and he licks them by instinct.
It's not by choice but he starts recalling other things, he can practically hear the rustle of clothing and see every twist that was needed to unwrap her delectable chest, he can feel the linen between his fingers and how the cool air of the room turned balmy and overheated on his bare skin as he worshiped the dark supple curves of hers.
The challenging smirk that she showed between kisses is engraved in his skull, as is the way she bit the corner of her lip and watched him with half-lidded eyes when he kissed every inch of her and dove to her generous bosom; he can recall every little repressed moan she let out when he pulled her close to suck, lick, kiss, pinch and tug at those stiff little nubs that made her squirm, he can also remember the way she gasped when he placed bold bite marks in her inner thighs and the delightful squeaks that escaped her when his mischievous mouth explored further.
He can still hear the playful growl in her words when she pinned him to the bed and took control, he still remembers the effect it had on him, the heated shiver that shot up his spine, and the memory of her gorgeous glistening curves pressed intimately to him as their bodies puzzled together in a passionate dance of debauched sensation that drew the most musical sounds from her lips.
There's also the hazy memory of mind-numbing pleasure and the warm lazy bliss that followed with the girl tucked to his body, panting and talking about stupid little nothings until they fell asleep.
All these recollections are tinted in rosy tones of amorous happiness and thrilling emotions but they all disgust him, he cannot possibly comprehend how any of it could have be as pleasant as he recalls, then again it's only normal seeing as he was not the one experiencing them.
He buries his face in his hands to drown out a frustrated groan but just then he senses the woman rolling around in her sleep to press to him unconsciously for comfort- it repulses him further and it takes all his self-restraint not to slap her away.
Why her? Why did Noatak fall for her of all people? Sure, he understands Noatak's attraction to power and strength, he understands the beauty he sees in this… this girl… but everything else about her is revolting! She's immature and young enough to be his daughter, she's a bully, an undeserving overpowered flaw in the natural order of the world and the very essence of what they fight against and yet the fool decides he wants her, Noatak decides he 'loves' her- the mere concept sounds ludicrous, love is for those that can't ambition anything higher.
It's pathetic, sickening and outright dangerous.
And yet… An idea tempts him. The Avatar is right there, sleeping so trusting next to him, so vulnerable and fully at his mercy- it would be so easy, so very simple to chi-block her, to restrain her and carry her away, or even to simply press his hand to her head an eliminate the threat she poses altogether.
Amon reaches out before he can really decide, the tips of his fingers are just an inch from her forehead…
«Don't you dare.» A voice that sounds too much like his own hisses menacingly in the confines of his mind. «Don't you dare laying a single finger on her.»
The outstretched hand flexes and then drops to his lap, a vague wave of frustration makes him grit his teeth but it's of no importance; he rationalizes that, after all, it would be pointless to destroy the Avatar in a cozy little bed on a safe little inn away from the eyes of the world. No, when he crushes her she will know it's coming, she will cower in terror or go down fighting, and the world will bear witness to his victory over her.
This resolution has silenced the threatening voice for now, though he's quite certain the quiet won't last, it never does. Rather than think about it, he stands and begins to scavenge for his clothes and the garments he finds nearly making him gag- they are not ugly or cheap in the least but Amon isn't very fond of Noatak's casual civilian clothing, he much prefers his imposing military garb if not simply to assert himself as something much different and stronger than the other man.
He dresses quickly and silently, not bothering with a shower because he does not want to spend even a second more than he has to in the company of the despicable girl whose unladylike snores are starting to irk him beyond measure.
"Why her…?" He whispers to himself once more, trying and failing to understand.
Without further ado he leaves as silently as a cat and decides to stick her with the inn bill, maybe she'll get in trouble, maybe she'll feel used and get angry and perhaps if she's furious enough she'll never want to see Noatak again. Wouldn't that be delightful?
Amon isn't comfortable without the mask, it's like walking around without his real face, as if his very insides are exposed, but he has no choice until he reaches one of the safe houses. Luckily, the closest one is only a few minutes away and only a couple of people know about it, not to mention that it's raining enough that there aren't many citizens on the streets in this part of town.
The old decrepit apartment building appears deserted except for some stray cats and spider-rats hiding from the downpour that rattles the rooftops and floods the gutters. A brisk cool breeze blows in the drafty hallways and Amon resents the chill- he hates the cold, mostly because Noatak finds it pleasant and nostalgic, but also because rain interferes with their plans and reminds him of what Noatak is, deep down, which is something better left forgotten.
He reaches the basement floor and the key is hidden eight wooden panels to the left of the door and ten tiles up, just as it is supposed to.
Once inside he quickly launches himself towards the back room where his personal emergency supplies are kept and in the small chest, which only he can open, he finds his face waiting- the cool lacquered wood with its white, gold and red feels reassuring under his fingertips, the glossy sheen warms his confidence, the expressionless smirk that is his shield just feels right. He wastes no time slipping it on securely before fishing in the trunk for more suitable garments.
It doesn't take long before the equalist looks more like himself again but he lingers because 'looking like' and 'feeling like' are two different things.
He takes a moment to caress the leather of his armguards, to smell the distinct wooden scent mingled with his own breath inside his mask, to taste the moisture in the air with every deep inhale and hear the scuff of his boots on the ground amidst the static of rainfall, to look upon the closest reflective surface and assure himself that this moment is real, that he isn't lost in some hazy fantasy world where only his thoughts hold some spark of reality.
At last he is centered, at last he is what he's supposed to be.
Without further ado he shoves his previous clothing into the chest and leaves, hood safely obscuring all of his visage and a non-descript coat keeping curious eyes off of him.
He's not sure how long it takes to get to the headquarters, he's aware of everything he passed on the way but he can't even remember all that well what he was thinking about during the long walk in the drizzle and time seems to have skipped. It's a highly unsettling feeling but Amon is used to it by now and shoves it aside as he walks into the building through a side door and makes his way down a deserted service corridor towards his office, all the while thinking about the cup of strong black tea he's craving and the shower he's itching to take.
There's some noise up ahead that makes him stop on his tracks, the sound of footsteps and grumbling grows closer and he realizes he does not have time to change his route. It doesn't matter, Amon shouldn't have anything to hide, it would be odd of him to try to avoid anyone.
"There you are, sir." The lieutenant's sharp voice catches his attention but he can see that the politeness is an act, his second in command is clearly furious.
"Here I am." Amon echoes the sentiment somewhat distantly, he doesn't understand what reason the other man has to be upset.
"Where the hell have you been?" The lieutenant mutters once he's close enough that only Amon can hear, it seems he has no intention to hide his irritation after all.
"Am I late, lieutenant? As for as I know I'm still in charge, nothing starts before I arrive." Of course it's still the sleepy hours of early morning but Amon doesn't think he has to defend himself by pointing that out, he thinks he's earned the right to not have to explain his every move.
"No, but... I just thought…" The mustached man starts to stumble on his words, clearly intimidated by the reply, his anger melts into frustration, awkwardness and perhaps a hint of disappointment.
"What?" Amon enquires emotionlessly.
"You ended the meeting early last night, I thought…" The lieutenant hesitates, his tone dropping a few notches in volume. "Well, it's been a while."
"You assumed you'd be enjoying my company in private?" The equalist leader enquires nonchalantly and begins walking towards his office again, now that he knows what the problem is, it is to think around it.
"Why do you have to say it that way? It sounds so embarrassingly proper." The mustached man sounds distasteful but keeps up with Amon's pace.
"If you want something you should ask, lieutenant. I'm not a mind reader and I have other things to do with my time, I am a man like any other after all." He states sharply just as they reach the office doors.
"Agree to disagree." The lieutenant grumbles once more under his breath.
"What was that?" Amon asks, lightly amused as he unlocks the door and steps inside.
"Nothing, sir." The other retorts quickly before a suspicious glint comes over his eyes. "So where were you really? You weren't in your quarters or your office."
"Why the sudden interest?" The masked man is growing weary of the questions already but he knows there's no point in denying any of it, not to this person.
The lieutenant's eyes narrow and he takes a step forward so that they are both in the office and he is suddenly too close to be professional. "…Who is she?"
"Excuse me?" Behind the expressionless mask, his eyebrows rise in mild surprise and his lips tighten in sudden discomfort. Amon doesn't like how close this is getting to the truth.
"Or is it a he?" The mustached man almost growls, pushing the leader back against the doors that shut abruptly, their bodies much too close to be anything but intimate although they never actually touch. "You think I wouldn't notice? How you sometimes just disappear all night long and come back smelling of sex and acting even more aloof than usual?"
"Your jealousy is unfounded." Amon retorts as confidently as always but his lips feel dry, not from anxiety but from something akin to excitement at the sight of the tall angry equalist towering over him with nostrils flaring like a hound tracking a scent. Amon has to lick those lips behind the mask as he stares at the other impassively.
"Why? Because you don't have anyone else? Or because you don't see me as an equal? As a lover?" The lieutenant barks the questions and actively pins Amon to the door this time, the impact is so abrupt that the whole wall shudders slightly and a book falls off a shelf.
He's suddenly reminded of the night before, of knocking things down in Noatak's haste to devour a woman Amon despises, the thought comes to him unbid and sours his mood. If it were not for that, he would have enjoyed pushing the lieutenant's buttons a little longer.
"Because I am you superior and do not take kindly to distractions nor accusations." Amon snaps back, much more roughly than he intended, he doesn't push the other away though.
"Pulling rank on me now, Amon?" The mustached man looks offended, almost hurt, and more than a little cynical. "Typical. So much for equality when it means having to get off your own high horse."
Amon grits his teeth but, with no small amount of strain to his patience, he manages to take a breath and look the other in the eye in a clash of blue hues- one pale ice and the other almost clear as rain. "…There's nobody else, Tullik. Nobody important, nobody I care about."
The words appear to mollify the lieutenant, as does the use of his real name, but the man is still sulky and suspicious. "Are you lying to me? I can't trust a leader that would lie to me."
"I am not lying." «Not to you anyway.» That last part wasn't said out loud and he's not sure if it's his own thought or Noatak's but he decides to squash it from his mind.
"The why…" Tullik starts as he leans closer to Amon's neck as if to take a whiff of a scent that should have been washed off by the rain. "…Do you smell like another?"
"Do I?" The masked man retorts softly, almost dangerously. "Or is your jealousy making you see green where there is none?"
The lieutenant stares at him for long minute, yet he's never been good at calling Amon's bluff and rather than linger on accusations he prefers to grab the leader by the bicep and drag him along.
"What are you going to do?" Amon enquires, more curious than angered by the proprietary gesture.
"Get that stench off you." The mustached man growls but his ears and cheeks are turning pink even as she shoves the other into the small private bathroom.
Tullik doesn't really bother to shed their clothes, for all he cares they need to be cleansed too, so he merely pushes Amon into the cramped shower space and turns on the water.
The leader doesn't complain, not that he can with his mask shoved aside and their mouths glued together; the lieutenant is swallowing up any and all complaints he might have about the current position, all of which are already dissolving and getting washed down the drain with the tepid water that pours from above.
It's rough and hungry and an inversion of power but it's also thrilling a simple. There will be tears to sew in their uniforms and bruises to nurse but that is how Amon likes it, that's why he finds Tullik to be a suitable companion- one that looks proper by his side, that is convenient, that satisfies his needs and never wants more than he is given, one that can bare his fangs but never bite the hand that feeds, that respects his need for privacy and that is sharp enough to know what he wants but not sharp to see past his ruses.
By the time it's over they are drying out on a cot, tangled together but each immersed in their own selfish thoughts. Tullik doesn't ask for much more than the proximity and Amon obliges because it is soothing in its own way and doesn't require any pointless pleasantry or empty chit chat.
It's very rare for equalist meetings and briefings to start late, Amon prizes punctuality and order, but that day they are beyond delayed. Nobody thinks much of it, they simply assume their leader was preoccupied with other plans for the revolution, not a soul suspects that he was instead enjoying a private moment with his lieutenant. Nonetheless, that late meeting is an important one, it concerns the plan to storm the arena after the Pro-Bending finals in order to convey a strong display of power and make a very dramatic point against the bender authorities.
Amon sits through the assembly with the headache of a lifetime because he can practically feel Noatak grinding metaphorical teeth at the back of his head and the urge to argue with a non-existence presence is overwhelmingly hard to contain.
When all the talk just becomes repetition and a droning buzz of minor details, Amon wastes no time dismissing everyone back to their posts so that he may nurse that headache in his office. He considers sleeping it off but fears what Noatak might do if he drops his guard that much.
Once upon a time Noatak was just a dull presence that made it self known in the most harmless moments, he had been just a piece of a whole, a weak piece that was far too caring, romantic and idealistic for his own good. Once upon a time, the lines between one mind and the other were blurry and faint- Amon had felt protective for the tortured part that was Noatak and the latter would turn to him for strength and power, they respected one another and worked in tandem as a whole, they agreed about what was right and what was wrong.
Nowadays the line was sharper and clear and agreeing was something that happened less and less.
And it was the Avatar's fault.
Years ago it was easy to show Noatak that the Avatar was the source of all the misery in his life and a symbol of all that was wrong in the world, back then Noatak was willing to sacrifice his own desires and his own identity simply so Amon could fix this shattered world even if it meant becoming ruthless and cold, a villain even, for that was what the world deserved.
Things changed when they were put face to face with the new Avatar for she did what even his misguided little brother had failed at- waking up a frosted part of Noatak's heart. Noatak was star struck by her beauty, her strength, her power and her hardships too, he felt empathy for her in ways that the girl herself might never comprehend and he began to see her as human, he began to want her. Noatak found something to be selfish for again.
Since then Amon began to find their… condition, more and more inconvenient. Noatak could do little to stop him but still found ways to sabotage him as well as rare moments where Amon's guard was down so that he could take over and woo the object of his new obsession. Thankfully it worked both ways, Amon knew how to sabotage Noatak as well and tried his hardest to retain control, to keep his eyes on the goal and be the leader he had to be.
Unfortunately, sharing a life means that mutual sabotage can backlash on all parties and in order for their secrets to remain secret and for their power to remain unquestioned a truce had to be maintained, one that became more tenuous day after day.
«It will be over soon. Once the city has been conquered, once Tarrlok is safely out of the way and the Avatar has been defeated, you will grow out of this silly obsession and see the light once again… And if you do not then you can have her once I'm done, you can pick up the shards of what's left so long as you don't hinder my work.»
Amon's repeats those words to himself, to Noatak, over and over again, hoping that it will be enough to keep him on track until after the current mission is complete.
He doesn't hate Noatak, just the things the latter does, and he wants Noatak to trust him again rather than hinder him, he wants to stop second guessing himself and feel whole once more.
Amon wants to remain the man with a will of steel, the symbol of a revolution that will bring forth a world where all people are equal, where the Spirits don't play favorites and fathers can love their children unconditionally and not try to use them like tools, where brothers don't grow apart in attempts to protect one another, where rulers have to bow to their people rather than the other way around, where the weight of the world isn't forced upon the scrawny shoulders of a child just because he or she just happens to be in tune with the inorganic elements of the Universe.
He wants a world that is fair, simple, easy to understand, a place where things that are wrong or unfair can be snuffed before they even begin, he wants a world where he is respected, where his powers are seen as godsend and not as an abhorrent mistake of nature, he never wants to be used again, he needs a reality that he can control so it won't spiral into chaos even further.
Amon wants to make things better, for Noatak and himself, and yet his other half is starting to doubt their goals and for what? A little girl that thinks too highly of herself and does not yet see how much of a pawn she is?
No! It is foolish, it is chaos, it is wrong, it is complicated. It is everything Amon wishes to avoid.
Physical attraction and connection are one thing, they is necessary and a biological imperative but this sort of romantic love… It's an illusion- it clouds judgement, makes people biased and weak, it has done nothing but hurt them from the moment they moved that first glob of water.
"But you don't really believe all that, do you?" Someone whispers into the warm hard confines of the mask and although he tells himself it was Noatak, Amon begins to wonder…
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(Author's Note: So… here's a little thing I wrote to start forcing myself out of this block. I started this long ago and suddenly decided to finish because the prompt was too good to pass up.
I know Dissociative Identity Disorder can affect different people in different ways but I was just trying to translate some of my personal experience with it into Amon's situation. It's not mystical or magical or romanticized, just a psychological condition.
Basically, Amon and Noatak don't know when they became separate parts of a whole and are only vaguely suspicious of the why, for a long time their situation worked for them but then it all changed when they developed feelings for different people.
Also, Noatak managed to start seeing Korra in secret after Mako rejected her the first time and although she has deep feelings for Noatak and he is totally in love, Amon doesn't believe she really loves Noatak, he thinks she just sees him as a fickle rebound fling typical of an inexperienced and arrogant teenager.
As for the lieutenant… He really is in love with Amon in his own idolizing way yet although Amon is mostly aromantic and likes to keep their relationship mostly physical and secret, he does care for lieu more than he wants to admit and sees their connection as something more mature and convenient than emotional. In the end, Amon's feelings in the matter conflict directly with Noatak's and they start having a hard time keep things separate.)