Well, my under 500 rule went to crap, as you can see. It's written a bit oddly, sorry, but I had to get the message across.

NOTE: This is really more of an AU version of Asami. We know so little about her, now, and I wanted to try my hand at characterizing her. So. Yes.

Her father always prided himself on being a self made man.

He'd say it at cocktail parties, guffawing and drunk with his eleven-year-old daughter hanging onto his arm for dear life. As a preteen, she had been gangly, with eyes set too far apart for her heart shaped face. Not aristocratic at all; she looked like Earth Kingdom dirt. Even though he told her she was beautiful, he would come home from the office with gifts of form flattering dresses and make ups that burnt her skin instead of dollies and leggings. They were new money, but they liked to pretend they were from one of the ancient earthbending families, endorsed by the old and new alike.

And it had started when she was three, and he took her to a million doctors. "Is she an earthbender?" he would ask, eyes sparkling.

They would shake their heads. "It's too early." or, the more honest ones, "No."

It angered him. His daughter should have every opportunity - every door in all Four Nations should swing open at her touch. And if it didn't, he would force it open in her name.

Soon, scientists got involved. Salt and pepper haired men and women who told her to lie back as they injected pure earth into her veins. Swallow quick as she choked down her medicine and, shush, child, just one more drop. No crying, darling, please. I'll have to change labcoats.

It didn't work. Of course it didn't - bending was in your blood, and though she was descended from the scum of the Earth, she could not twist it to her will.

And it was then that he got involved with the Equalists. A few charitable donations here, a gala there - nothing major, nothing illegal. And on paper, it sounded good. Give her the opportunities without the pain and disease and heartache. They did not know what they did with the money, but it probably wasn't as administrative as her father led her to believe.

When she was fourteen, she woke up beautiful. The frog was a princess, with eyes that sparkled and glorious curves. More dancing and parties for her, now, though. Must show everyone your beauty, dear, and can't you wear the dress that complements your eyes just so?

But she was scared. The city was beginning to take sides. It was turning into a warzone, and wherever she turned, shadows loomed and laughed at her fear. She enrolled in self defense classes, and took to it unusually well. She was conditioned to take to everything unusually well. Nothing was impossible, or even vaguely difficult. Men were wrapped around her pinkie with the slightest tease - a bit of skin there, a touch here. They were not like the old families - no. They were a new, improved nobility.

It was not in her blood, but success was like a poison in her heart, and whether it was stone or flesh that made it up was yet to be seen.

She became more daring. Turn a little too fast, go to the bad part of town with a diamond the size of a robin's egg pinned to her chest, give a Triad member the bird. Test the limits. Live a little, sweetheart, you're getting pale.

And one day, why she was turning to fast and tempting the chronic drunks who lived near the Power Station, she ran into a boy. And it was wonderful, because he was a bender who lived dangerously and liked her enough to kiss her softly why the Avatar stared.

It wasn't love - but maybe it could have been. Laughed at his jokes a bit harder, tailored her dress so they pissed the conservative newspapers off a little more, shed just one more tear over his sob story life. A flapper, a fly girl, a revolutionary who could buy the government if she so desired. But she was not the girl for him, and they both knew it, but he gave her companionship and pretended to care for the girl under the sashaying hips and inky curtain of hair.

Life was too easy to waste with boys easily changed by gunfire and sentiment, though, and the heiress was on her own soon enough. But she continued to play her game. Defeat a few Equalists, anger a few City Officials, get Daddy up in a tizzy about Amon and threats and a hundred other ugly things. All in a day's work for the hidden Queen of the Republic - better known as Asami Sato.

Please review with mistakes, favorite quotes, feedback on the formatting, prompts, and whatever else your Korra-loving heart desires. Thanks for reading.