Water, water, everywhere.
WARNING: Contains implied noncon.
The fever dream is both the most horrifying and the most delicious thing that has ever run through his mind.
Republic City burns around him. Not that he can see it, or even wants to see it. He doesn't care. That doesn't interest him.
What interests him is her. His captive prize. His trophy.
His slave.
Korra kneels naked and freezing and frightened atop the table. She's blind in every sense of the word: the black cloth over her eyes obscures the world from view, and her spirit can no longer hear the sweet songs of the elements – he's taken that from her.
But she is not yet broken, even after all this.
To be fair, he'd never really tried before – to break her. Not really.
True, he'd tried to undermine her. Unsettle her. Make the ground shift beneath her feet, shake her confidence in her godlike strength and abilities, make her question her moral certitude.
But never break her. It wasn't time.
But now the hour had come.
Many had advocated for the Avatar's judgment to be conducted in public, in the daylight. To be humiliated and subjugated for all of Republic City to see. But he wouldn't do that to her.
Not that she would appreciate what he was about to do to her. Far from it.
He briefly glances around at the figures surrounding the table and forcefully holding the Avatar down. There are four others in the room with him – two men, one woman, and the ever faithful Lieutenant – all of whom had lost homes, family, loved ones and livelihoods to the malicious actions of the bending elite. Amon had handpicked them to attend this…occasion. They all deserved a shot at retribution...or at the very least, to bear witness to it.
But now he turns his gaze back to Korra. The sweat on her back glistens despite the poor lighting.
It is a beautiful and powerfully erotic moment.
His arm reaches out; his fingers barely touch the tip of her chin. Korra shudders violently.
"Your city is mine."
The cold voice emanating from behind the mask seems so unlike his own.
"Your bending is mine."
He slides the hand downwards to stroke her neck.
"And now, Avatar…you are mine as well."
Sometimes he gets lucky. Sometimes the dream dissolves into specks of black and white, and that font of base emotions gives way to brief but welcome respites of delirious consciousness.
Most of the time, the dream continues on.
And he enjoys it.
This time, when he opens his eyes, they stay open.
Everything hurts.
Someone is clutching his arm; he turns to see the Lieutenant kneeling beside the bed.
"Oh, thank the spirits," gasps Lieu. "I thought I'd – we'd lost you."
His actions in the dream world still run fresh in his mind. "Basin," he gurgles. "Now."
The Lieutenant grabs for the bowl at Amon's waist but it's too late. He leans out of the bed to spew blood, bile and spirits knows what onto the stone floor.
He sees a glass of water on his bedside table and reaches for it, but his arms can't muster the strength. The Lieutenant immediately admonishes him for trying and tenderly feeds the water into his mouth, one tiny sip at a time.
"Go back to sleep," says Lieu softly.
"I need to kn-"
"Sleep." Lieu's lips purse. "One hour, then I'll come wake you up. I'll bring you some chicken soup," he adds kindly. "Good stuff."
"That would be much appreciated," he whispers.
As he drifts off to sleep, he feels the Lieutenant's lips briefly touch his own. And despite all that had passed between them, he can't help but smile.
What a softie.
He knows from experience that the Lieutenant's cooking is stellar, but this chicken soup might be the best fucking thing he's tasted in his entire life.
Of course, feeling deathly ill has the potential to make one more appreciative of the little pleasures in life.
"Alright Lieu, I've eaten. Give me the bad news."
The Lieutenant grimaces. "The fever did not bode well for us sir. Thirty have died so far, six of them mech operators and four of them pilots. Some hundred plus remain ill."
Perfect. Just perfect. "And how far back will this set us?"
Lieu snorts. "If we're lucky, a month. It'll probably be closer to three."
"Well, maybe some good will come out of this."
The Lieutenant gives him a sharp look that reads "you just mean that it'll give you more time with your girlfriend before you have to kill her."
He decides to change the subject. "And you? How have you been holding up in all of this?"
"You know me sir," Lieu answers with a grin. "I'm a stubborn bastard. I told the damn thing not to bother me and it wisely chose to stay away."
"What of our enemies?"
"Most of the city's afflicted are non-benders and there are confirmed reports that both doctors and waterbending healers, whether by choice or coercion, have been prioritizing sick benders over non-benders. So our enemy's casualties remain few."
He closes his eyes in frustration. Even when so many suffer, those people still find ways to oppress us. "And what of the Avatar?"
Lieu doesn't even bother to hide his smirk. "It seems that the Avatar is gravely ill. Councilman Tenzin's brought in the finest healers and physicians from across the city and nothing they've done has improved her condition. By all accounts she is not expected to survive." Lieu pauses for a moment, the smile disappearing from his face. "I know this is not how you planned for things to happen, but perhaps it's for the best."
"And what if it's not?" he retorts.
"Sir, she is the enemy. For our cause to succeed, she must fall. It's not a public execution or stripping of her power, but a dead Avatar is still a dead Avatar."
"Yes…I suppose," he concedes, unconvincingly.
"I'm glad we have an understanding. I'll leave you to your rest, sir. Enjoy the soup," he adds offhandedly. "And don't…exert…yourself," he warns, his voice carrying an edge that shows he clearly knows what his boss is going to do and hoping that a stern lecture will talk him out of it.
The Lieutenant walks out the door, and Amon is left alone.
He lies back down and tries his hardest to talk himself out of the incredibly stupid thing he's about to do.
The cold waters of Republic City Bay would be a relief if they weren't sapping his already lax strength.
This was an incredibly stupid idea.
Fortunately, the obvious abundance of his native element meant that even the smallest bending motions carry great weight, so he glides under the surface with surprising ease. Still, he only dares to bend an air bubble around his head. No need to overexert himself.
As his head breaks the water next to Air Temple Island, the white sliver of the crescent moon is just enough to reveal the poorly organized formation of White Lotus guards around the island's perimeter.
Even with the city on the brink of war these fools arrange themselves in easily subverted positions. Perhaps Korra's tales of their incompetence aren't exaggerations after all.
He hoists himself out of the water, bends his clothing dry and carefully wanders around the rocks, watching and listening until he hears concerned voices coming from a lit window above him.
"Can nothing more be done?" comes the voice of Councilman Tenzin.
"Unfortunately no."
Must be the doctor.
"Maybe what we're giving her is being magically transferred to someone else instead?"
He smirks. Non bender.
"Don't be flippant with us!"
Ah – must be Pema.
"She's the Avatar and our charge. You have to do something!" demands Pema.
"The Avatar is not my only patient," comes the sharp reply, "and Avatar or not she is only one of dozens, hundreds who need my attention. I know you benders like to pretend you're all gods, but this mere mortal can only do so much. Like I said, everything we're doing is having no effect. I noticed that your precious waterbenders haven't been able to work their miracles either-"
"You ungracious, arrogant bit-"
"Pema!" shouts Tenzin. "Doctor Sang," he begins curtly, "I believe you've done quite enough for this evening. The guards will show you out now."
He hears retreating footsteps…then approaching ones. He has to scramble behind an oddly convenient rock and quietly scuttle about as a White Lotus sentry approaches. Fortunately, he is still able to hear the rest of the conversation.
"For what little my opinion is worth to you people…I hope she lives. I hate to see anyone that young die, no matter how spoiled or privileged they might be.
More retreating footsteps. Then a cry that chills him.
Never before has Korra ever sounded so weak.
"Pema, we should go."
"But Tenzin, I can't just-"
"All we can do now is wait and hope. Besides, you're pregnant and I don't want you or the baby coming to any harm."
A reluctant sigh. "You're right. Fine. Let's go."
He hears a kiss, then more receding footsteps, and the light in the window fades away.
Finally, he thinks with equal parts irritation and panic. I was almost certain the guard would come around again.
He touches the wall for half a second before realizing that he's in no condition to scale the wall by hand. He summons a water spiral and hopes that anyone who hears it will assume that it's merely the island's surf picking up.
Once he reaches the window sill he slices open the lock (and prays that Korra can explain it away once she's better). Korra's winter rug is still on the floor, so he dries his boots on it (hoping the wet patches go unnoticed).
As he approaches the bed and sees the extent of her illness, his belly coils in painful knots.
Her beautiful dark skin is pale, as if she'd spent a decade in the shadows just like him. He presses a hand to her forehead, and its searing warmth troubles him.
"Avatar," he murmurs.
Korra groans and twists under the covers, and her movements twist the blanket to expose her bare shoulders and the slope of her back; he realizes that she is completely naked underneath.
Not how you usually picture the Avatar naked and at your mercy, is it?
Shut up, he growls. And for once, the debate ends before it truly begin.
"Avatar, please, wake up," he pleads.
Korra's eyes snap open, and her pupils dilate with fear when she realizes that this is not a dream and that he really is in the room with her.
She opens her mouth to yell for help, but a half-hearted yelp is all she can muster.
"Avatar," he begins, but she doesn't hear him. She sits up and grabs his arms with a surprising amount of force.
"Please," she begs in a hoarse whisper. "Please don't-"
"I'm not here to hurt you, I swear. Only to help."
Her eyes frantically dart to the door. At first he thinks she's concerned about him getting caught, but then realizes she's thinking about Tenzin, his wife, their three runts and the little bastard on the way. He turns back to her and nods.
"I swear that I will not harm Tenzin or his family. I'm afraid I don't quite have the strength to deal with them. Another time perhaps," he quips.
Too sick to give her thanks or stare him down for his threat of future violence, Korra merely lies back down on the bed.
He removes his mask and everything else from the waist up, and slides onto the bed behind Korra, gently lifting her into an upright position and resting her back against his chest.
He looks down at his belt to view the small metal cylinder he'd attached before leaving the hideout. He unclips the cylinder and unscrews the top.
The soup inside has gone lukewarm thanks to the bay's waters, but it should still serve his purposes.
He uses one hand to lift the cylinder to Korra's mouth and gingerly tilts it forward.
"Gently now...gently..."
It takes him ten, tension-filled minutes to get Lieu's chicken soup down Korra's sore throat. Mercifully, despite some reactionary heaving, the Avatar manages to keep it all down. As she eats, he uses his free hand to carefully press and rub key chi points around her upper body – not to disable her, but to stimulate her natural defenses.
Once his task is done he carefully lays her back down; she's sleeping now, and her breathing seems slightly improved but otherwise there has been little visible change.
Maybe I put a little too much sleeping powder in that soup.
He dons his clothes and walks towards the window.
I just wish I could do something more…but that physician said everything else had been done.
...not everything.
He freezes instantly.
The implications and consequences, mostly horrible ones, race through his weakened mind in an effort to dissuade him.
They fail miserably.
He walks back to the bed and shakes Korra by the shoulder. She moans but her eyes remain closed.
"Avatar, can you hear me?"
No response.
You've always hated Korra. Why even suggest...this?
Perhaps I've had a change of heart.
He removes the blanket and lays one hand over Korra's heart and the other on her stomach.
Just so you know, you're probably going to get the both of you killed.
...I love her. I have to try and save her.
…then do what you must.
He lets the power surge through him.
Korra's shakes and convulses as the bloodbending takes effect; her whole body arches and then lifts off the bed entirely; every blood vessel in Korra's body lights up; the eyes do as well, their pupils shrinking to tiny dots in a sea of glowing white.
The scene is as terrifying as it is magnificent.
Part of him, the dark part inside his soul that Yakone so hatefully and cruelly cultivated, screams CONTROL, POWER, WILL, MASTERY, FORCE, DOMINANCE, DEATH and compels him to just snap her right then and there.
But unlike the fever dream, he can choose whether or not to humor his dark impulses.
He buries the thoughts and tries his best to continue his work.
Five seconds…seven seconds…eleven seconds…
Stop.
No! I have to be sure!
STOP.
No! I can make it, I'm strong enough!
But he pushes too far.
The power vanishes and the sudden vacuum sends him straight to the floor.
Korra falls back onto the bed with a *WHUMP!*
Neither one of them moves.
Author's notes: So…bloodbending and noncon. Yeah. That just happened.
The noncon scene was a lot darker before, but it felt icky and more exploitive than expositive so I pared it down to something less distressing…though I don't see how one can write noncon without it being distressing in some way shape or form. Sincerest apologies to anyone who got triggered from this.
Revelations and aftermath coming next chapter! I consider these chapters (this and the next one) the turning point of the fic. There's obviously the Battle of Republic City coming up but this is the point where the Amorra relationship goes from frenemy fuck-buddies to actual (healthy?...lol nope) romantic (ish) relationship.