A/N: I haven't posted here in a very, very long time, but I thought a lot more people would appreciate this particular fic here! It's also available in archiveofourown under the same name. Hope you enjoy it!

It was an outdated tradition, but one that still held some significance in the North. It wasn't as though Taraka was unaware of the looks the older boys of the tribe would throw her every time she went out to fetch ingredients for their dinner. It was her idea, in the first place, and after the first week, the rumors flew and Taraka was harassed no longer, though it didn't take long for inquiries of "who the lucky young man" was that had asked for the second child's hand so early to come knocking at their door.

It was one of the few things Yakone didn't care to disparage Taraka about, speaking of how she was freer of distraction if she was uninterested in the affections of boys her age, able to focus on what was more important—her bending.

Her mother, on the other hand, had something to say about her only daughter stealing her betrothal necklace from her room.

At fourteen, Taraka had figured out that she had no interest in anyone in the village. It wasn't as though she'd ever had the time to interact with them, and she didn't think she was missing out on anything at all, with all their bothersome macho posturing, showing off their riches or strength or imagined skill, acting as beneath her as they could possibly act while trying and failing to impress her. Anyway, the only men she ever had time for were her father and brother, and at least she knew them, and loved them all the same, despite her father's hot temper and her brother's cold demeanor.

It wasn't as though they were always like that, though. Yes, her father was strict, and quicker to anger than when they were children, and yes, Noatak barely spoke to her anymore, even when they were seen side-by-side more often than most siblings, but Taraka stored away every precious moment Yakone voiced his approval of her, the rare times his tone would warm and his expression soften (rarely about waterbending, never about bloodbending, but sometimes about other things, the moments when Yakone would say she was just like her mother and then muss her hair with affection), and Noatak held her hand even when she assumed she was too old to be led, and would wrap an arm around her when she was feeling vulnerable.

The older she got, the more approval she got from her father. It was a step in the right direction, when she began to take charge in the household and assisting her mother with finances and other things. She learned, by way of the merchants at the docks, how to haggle, and how to use a charming smile here or a quick word there to get people to trust her, and to do what she wanted. "You'd make a grand politician, Taraka!" said a trader from Republic City, when she'd bought a new radio from him, a smaller, more portable one that was apparently all the rage in the fast-progressing south. "You have the looks, the charm, the wit—why, I'll bet you'll make it big the day you leave this place. You belong with the movers and shakers, the big leagues, the fast talkers, not some backwater village full of dense little boys who're falling all over you!"

Taraka's eyes widened as she considered it. "You really think so?" she said in a measured voice, hiding her suspicion easily. The man nodded as he packed the radio up for her to take home. He didn't seem to be lying, and it wasn't like he was offering Taraka any deals. No, this was just an idea, some small talk with big possibilities, no expectations from the man himself but enough to make Taraka think.

"My dad wants me to go to Republic City one day with my brother," she said casually.

"Well if your brother's got half your charm, you'll be running the city within a decade," the man said easily.

"I'll consider it," Taraka said.

"Well hey, if you ever find yourself considering it hard enough to get on a ferry out, look me up when you get there," he said, handing her a card. "Ta!"

Taraka took her package and hurried home. It was a gift for her father, for his birthday, something for the family, and she realized as she slowed her pace that she had another one to give him: an idea. If she wasn't going to master bloodbending the way Noatak could, then there was something else she could do for her father that not even her prodigy brother could achieve.

"Hey, Taraka!"

She flinched as two boys from the village—what were their names? Tukka and something. Haruk? Hamuk?

"Hey, there's something different about you today. New hair style?" not-Tukka said, exaggeratedly rubbing his chin. Taraka straightened up, giving a fake smile, warm enough not to provoke but cool enough to intimidate. "Oh?" she said. The guy whose name she couldn't be bothered to remember smiled, thinking he'd piqued her interest. Honestly, an ice floe on still waters would be more interesting than him, but Taraka wasn't looking for a fight. Not when she could trick just as easily.

"Hmm.. new parka?"

"Come off it, Jaqua," Tukka laughed, and Jaqua finally said what was on his mind, something that, admittedly, threw Taraka off the slightest bit.

"You're not wearing your betrothal necklace. Bad breakup?" Jaqua said, and Taraka's hand immediately went up to her collar. She hadn't considered the need when she went out today, too excited for the big ships that had come in from Republic City to bother with idiotic boys. The oversight was definitely back to bite her in the hind.

"I just forgot it at home," Taraka said. It was the truth, omitting some details.

"Is that so? Y'see, me and Tukka were out today, and we saw your mom sewing up some clothes out in the sunlight, wearing the exact same necklace. So I'm thinking, maybe you're not really betrothed. Or maybe the guy you got was so useless he couldn't carve his own necklace."

"One more likely than the other, of course," Tukka chimed in.

"Of course," Taraka repeated coolly. "Well if you must know," she began, trying to figure out in that moment what lie to tell this time. "My future husband-to-be is waiting 'til the next full moon to carve my necklace. He's going to ask Yue to bless it before giving it to me, and he's going to carve it out of moonstone, something he had to get from the traders today. My mother just didn't want me going around looking unattached so she lent me hers until that time."

It was an absurd lie, though she delivered it perfectly. She hoped it had that 'so farfetched it had to be true' feel to it, and the looks on Tukka and Jaqua's faces told her she had half-succeeded, at least.

"You're a liar, Taraka," Tukka said first, though his tone was uncertain.

"We'll see who's right after the full moon!" Taraka responded, back already turned as she walked away, feeling smug until she found herself standing in front of her own home, wondering how long she'd be able to keep up such a lie.

Until the full moon, of course. The everybody will know what a fake you are. Your charm won't work on them anymore. You'll lose your chance to prove your strengths to your father. You've ruined everything with such a trivial miscalculation, her traitorous mind supplied.

"Taraka?"

She looked up as the light from inside shone out into the dark. She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing out there, but it was already a lot darker than it had been when she'd had her confrontation. Her brother stood silhouetted at the doorway, tall and handsome and stone-faced as always.

"What're you doing? Come on inside before you freeze," he scolded. She did as he said and he lifted her parka over her head, letting her acclimate to the warmth within their home. He hung it up as she searched for a ribbon to wrap around the box.

Taraka loved her brother deeply, even if Noatak wasn't as keen on showing his affection. He was the only young man she saw as worthy, where all the rest were far beneath their family in everything. It wasn't only the bloodbending, either. He was one of the greatest waterbenders of their tribe, and at seventeen, blooming into adulthood, easily the handsomest young man of his age. Though he didn't have Taraka's talent for words, he could smile the way she did—the kind of smile that had people swaying to his whims, that had women swooning and falling all over him. Ever since she was eleven and Noatak was fourteen, and first catching the eye of the girls in their village, Taraka found a smug sort of pleasure in watching Noatak ignore the girls vying for his attention. He seemed unaware of them, at first. At least, Taraka thought so, until one day, she had a good laugh over this one girl who'd faked tripping in front of him, expecting him to carry her when she 'sprained her ankle' and ending up soaked and shrilly screaming when Noatak used his bending to bring her to the healers via ice-slides, propelled by water.

Some girls were smart enough to back off after that, but as time went on, the display of such advanced waterbending at such an early age and Noatak's ever-maturing good looks had them flocking right back again. It was probably a good thing Yakone was intimidating enough that ordering people to stop hanging around his house worked wonders for Noatak, and eventually, Taraka, when the boys began to do as the girls had done with her brother.

After the sprained ankle girl incident, Taraka and Noatak enjoyed deriding the other equally pathetic attempts to get Noatak's attention. Perhaps Taraka was bitter, but she didn't like the idea of any slush-brained girly girl taking her brother's time away from her.

"Where were you today?" Noatak asked. "When Mom told me to get out of the house while she fixed her big dinner, I thought I'd join you, but you didn't say where you'd gone."

"Sorry," Taraka said genuinely. "I had to get to the docks early to find a good trader to deal with. I wanted something special for Dad's birthday, so I got him this."

She presented the radio briefly by opening the top flap before closing up again and tying the ribbon down. Noatak looked startled, but impressed. "Dad's gonna love it," he said blankly, and Taraka worried she'd upset him, but then he smiled at her and drew something out of his pocket, placating her worries.

"I was at the docks too. Must've missed you. But I got something for you when I was looking for something to bring home to Dad," Noatak said, and he opened the drawstring bag he held in his palm. "Look, remember how you wanted a necklace to keep those idiot ice-whackers off your back? I found this guy selling minerals mined from different parts of the earth kingdom and from other places too, I thought you could use them since Mom won't let you use hers anymore."

He shook some stones into her hand, beautiful round cuts of jade and aquamarine and quartz and lapis lazuli—and, to Taraka's wide-eyed surprise, moonstone.

"These are... they're beautiful, brother," Taraka said, her eyes brimming with unexpected tears.

"Why are you crying?" Noatak said, sounding more worried than annoyed.

"I'm not crying," Taraka said, wiping the tears from her eyes and willing herself not to add any more. "I'm happy. These are amazing, Noatak. Thank you."

Noatak stared at her hard before demanding, "Did something happen today?"

"It's nothing important! Just some stupid guys," Taraka said. Noatak raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated, "They asked me why I wasn't wearing my betrothal necklace and they knew it was Mom's, so I told them my husband-to-be was carving mine out of moonstone, but that he'd wait until the full moon so he could have it blessed by Yue before he gave it to me. It was a dumb lie, but with this it might just work!" she said, holding up the moonstone. "Thank you, Noatak!"

They met in a hug, one she realized they hadn't shared for years. She smiled into his shoulder, doubly relieved that he wasn't pulling away.

"I could..." Noatak said quietly.

"What?"

"I could carve it," Noatak said. "If you don't have to worry about it, I doubt they'll suspect you're faking, and I don't go out as often as you do. And all you have to do is do my chores for a month," he added, smirking.

"I already do most of your chores anyway, lazy bum!" Taraka laughed. She quieted after a while. "Would you really do it?" she asked uncertainly.

"Of course. Anything for my sister," Noatak said.

Councilwoman Taraka remembered that day. It was one of their happiest days, even with the bloodbending, with the seed of hatred Yakone had planted in his eldest child. Yakone had embraced Taraka when he received his gift, saying it was even better than the radios they'd had in the City when he'd been there. They'd had a wonderful dinner, courtesy of their mother, and Noatak and Taraka had sat with their father out in the stars as Yakone recounted stories of his criminal exploits in the city as a youth, ones that didn't involve his bloodbending or his revenge. He made it all seem so exciting—at least, to Taraka. She wasn't sure what Noatak had been thinking that day, but he'd stared at the half moon for a while, as she and her father talked about the stars, and how they were different in the south.

Sometimes, Taraka would look up at the stars and remember her father, remember when he was warm and good. She did not deny the evil in him—no, the loss of her brother reminded her of that everyday, but there were still good times. He had been a loving father, if not altogether a good one. He was right, though.

The stars were different in the south.

"Avatar Korra. It is an honor to meet you," Taraka said, bowing theatrically. Tenzin looked entirely unhappy to see her, she observed smugly, but when she mentioned airbender hospitality, he was forced to concede. Though being a woman was not as overblown an issue here as it was in the North, Taraka could still act like the doe-eyed innocent she favored in her teenage days, and in her youth starting out in the Republic. Tenzin may have built up an immunity to it, but it worked remarkably well on people she rarely interacted with, the Avatar included.

"I had heard rumors, but I didn't think you would be so beautiful," she said genuinely, testing the waters by laying a cupped hand over Korra's. When she didn't pull away, even seemed to appreciate the attention, Taraka continued along that line.

"Your empty flattery isn't appreciated here, Taraka," Tenzin said stonily.

"It may be flattery, Tenzin, but it's certainly not empty," Taraka said, drawing truth into her words and using them as she would her lies.

"Korra is beautiful. Probably would've been the talk of the town if you hadn't kept her locked away," she said. Korra tensed, not because of Taraka herself, but because of the realization that she was right about Korra's upbringing. "She reminds me of somebody at this age. All beauty and noble grace. And that hair..."

"Let me guess... you?" Tenzin said derisively, though he was as good as any politician at hiding his contempt beneath subtlety and the quiet and calm airbenders seemed to be adept at.

"Not at all," Taraka said, her eyes suddenly becoming distant. "My brother," she said quietly, her tone so soft that Tenzin stopped drinking his tea, his eyes actually widening at the difference. He quickly regained his composure.

"Your brother?" he repeated. "I didn't know you had any siblings."

"I lost him when I was very young," Taraka said soberly. She was unaware she had reached out to touch one of the loose tails hanging on either side of Korra's head, and Korra herself seemed focused on Taraka's expression, more honest and vulnerable than any of her usual grand words and gestures. "You have the same hair, the same eyes, almost the same face. I—I'm sorry," she said, drawing away. "That was inappropriate."

"No, it's okay," Korra said. "I don't have any siblings. I can't imagine what it must have been like to lose one."

"Neither can I," Tenzin said quietly in the corner. Taraka cleared her throat and stood. "I'm sorry for ruining your dinner. I'll be taking my leave."

"But wait! Why'd you come here if you were just gonna leave?" Korra asked.

"I was going to ask you to join me in my task force," Taraka said, looking over her shoulder. "To take down Amon."

The cold fear in Korra's eyes told her everything.

"But I changed my mind," Taraka said quickly, and she left without another word.

Halfway down the steps, she heard heavy boots tramping after her, and saw Korra standing on the top steps. "Councilwoman Taraka!" she called, and Taraka looked back.

"Why did you change your mind!?"

Taraka gave a thin smile. "You remind me of my brother, Korra. I'm afraid my motivations aren't much more complex than that."

"...You loved your brother a lot, didn't you?" Korra said.

"More than anything in this world or the next," Taraka said, not a word of lie in her statement.

"A lot more people's brothers and sisters are going to get hurt with Amon's movement, aren't they?" Korra said thoughtfully.

"Yes, I suppose they are."

"Well then..." Korra said, swallowing thickly before she forced the rest of the words out. "Consider me part of your task force, Councilwoman. I want to do everything I can to help."

Taraka smiled warmly. "Thank you, Avatar," she said, giving a deep bow.

And when she'd turned away, back to the young southern Water Tribe girl, her smile turned sharp and self-satisfied, knowing she'd just manipulated the Avatar herself into thinking it was her idea. All aside, this night proved to be fruitful indeed.

She drove home to her apartments, wrinkling her nose at the vagabonds, mostly non-benders with some benders among their ranks, littering the lower streets. If there was one thing she learned in her years in Republic City, it was that equality was an illusion, and the whims of the powerful were what ran this city.

Once Taraka finally found a way to be the city's savior, making them think it was their idea to install her as the one true power the way she'd manipulated Korra, she'd fix that.

Noatak had always said equality was important, that nobody should be left in the dirt just because somebody else had natural abilities. It was naïve, but in the grand scheme of things, it was doable, once Taraka was on top. It was always good to have goals. She would build something better for everybody, even if it meant dirtying her hands to do so. For Noatak.

Her hand drifted to the betrothal necklace she wore, part of her usual outfit as the esteemed Councilwoman. Even when she was in Republic City, the necklace had been a good way to deflect those who would question a genteel Water Tribe woman at marrying age. She remembered one night at a bar, when she was in her twenties and working tirelessly as a minor official to one of the city districts—one of the lower, poorer ones, that made her even more aware that she needed to get to the top to help those on the bottom. She thought it would be easy then, though that thought was slowly and surely crushed over the next fifteen years of work.

"Hey. Looking for company or just solitude in a crowd?" a rough voice greeted her. She pointedly ignored the man who'd sidled up beside her, feigning casualness.

"Married?" he continued when she shrugged an answer.

"Widowed."

"My condolences. Did it happen recently?"

Taraka looked the guy in the eye, trying to assess the situation. Oddly, he didn't seem all that threatening, or pushy. He seemed genuinely curious, and Taraka couldn't deny he was handsome enough, if on the bony side. His mustache gave him character, and she felt herself easing to his presence.

"No. Almost a decade now."

"Ah. Young love," he said thoughtfully. "They say it lasts forever."

"It does for me," Taraka said wistfully. "What's your name?" she continued.

"Ah, well see, my name doesn't matter. I'm actually not the kind of man who would woo a fine lady like yourself, if you catch my drift," he said with drink-loosened, exaggerated wit. "I'm here because my friend over there has been looking at you for the past hour without doing a thing. You see, while he's an effective orator, he's not much of a conversationalist, and I figured, the good friend that I am, I'd break the ice for his sake, so to speak."

"Oh, is that right?" Taraka, amused, followed mustache-guy's gaze to where his friend was sitting, and her bravado fell away immediately (as did her breath) when she alighted on the man's face.

If mustache-guy was handsome, then this man was above and beyond any Taraka had ever seen. His jawline well-formed, his eyes thoughtful and piercing. He was undoubtedly the first man that had ever gotten Taraka's attention in the city, and she felt almost guilty for acknowledging it, her hand swiftly clasping her necklace once more.

"Hey, I don't wanna disrespect anybody's memory," mustache-guy said quietly. "I know what it's like to lose somebody special. But it's not a crime to try starting fresh. Think you'll give my friend a chance?"

She almost said yes.

Almost.

"Tell your friend I'm flattered, but..."

Mustache-guy smiled, laying down a few yuans on the counter. "For your next drink," he bade as he made his way back.

Fifteen years later and a Councilwoman near her forties, Taraka wasn't sure why she remembered that night. She was quite the topic of conversation in her youth, a rising star and Republic City's number one bachelorette. Even now, there were still many interested parties who saw her as the perfect trophy wife, or as somebody to adore and worship. As much as the second type appealed to her, she didn't want a simpering weakling for a husband.

She didn't want a husband, period, despite her girlhood dreams of family. There was too much at stake, too many variables, and her heart still ached for somebody that was no longer there, so it was impossible for her to fall in love. She knew her father expected her to have children, though. She considered going out on a one night stand and just trying for a child without the complication of a questionable father figure, but as a councilwoman, such scandal had to be avoided.

Almost forty. She wasn't even sure she could have children anymore. It wasn't that she didn't want any—she did, since she was young, wanting the kind of love born of family, something better than she had, but built on the same strong foundations—but she was always too busy and too determined to achieve her goals to think about it.

Perhaps she'd adopt. Yakone wouldn't be happy, but he was old and decrepit anyway, and wasn't Republic City enough for him? No, she wouldn't curse the world with another in a long line of talented bloodbenders, of that she was certain.

Perhaps it was the nostalgia of the unbidden memory that got to her, but instead of going home like she'd planned, Councilwoman Taraka found herself in a bar, much like the one she'd been in over a decade ago—dingy but serviceable, and more importantly, private. It wouldn't do to have the movers and shakers of Republic City seeing their adored Councilwoman in a place frequented by rascals and vagabonds and other unsavory folk.

Not that she had any real problem with these people. No, it was their situation that disgusted her, one she knew she would change, if she just had time.

She drank herself into a stupor, for once disregarding the consequences, forgetting for at least a night that she was Councilwoman Taraka.

The Avatar really did get to her, for all that she'd won the night. In recent years, she'd begun to forget her own brother's face, but the Avatar brought it all back. She remembered his last words before he left them forever, about the Avatar having more power than any other being in the world. And Taraka had just succeeded in manipulating her. Ha! Take that, Noatak.

"You're drunk," someone said, a voice that made her shiver for all the right reasons.

"And you seem to have a knack for finding me whenever I'm drunk and alone," she said muzzily. "Stalking me, are you?"

"Not at all, Councilwoman. The world just seems to love leading me to where you are."

She looked blearily up and was briefly blinded by the bar lights overhead. The man who stood, leaning over her, was handsome, handsomer than anybody she'd ever met, though he wasn't one to flaunt it. His looks would have made him a shoe in as a public figure. If only he had the charisma to go with it, and a better name.

"Whaddya want, Lee?" she slurred.

"You can't drive in this state. Let me take you home."

"Hmmm a bit forward, aren't we? Shouldn't you be buying me a drink first?"

"I think you've had enough drinks for one night, Councilwoman." She felt the man grip her arm gently. She missed his touch, though she didn't say so out loud. Lee had always had such a firm but gentle touch.

They met a few years ago, when Taraka was running for Councilwoman, her candidacy and popularity going strong, she found herself getting away from all the hustle and bustle of politics in a small bar where she was sure nobody would recognize her.

She'd been wrong, of course, but at least the man who did turned out to be pleasant company.

He called himself Lee (Taraka had gracefully snorted at such a generic name), dressed in drab grays and silly glasses that did nothing for his face, which, in Taraka's humble opinion, was gorgeous, wasted on a man whose fashion sense was that of a blind wolfbat scratching the inside of a dumpster.

He was pale as an Earth Kingdom man, though his features were oddly familiar, almost Water Tribe. His eyes were a generic Earth Kingdom green, so Taraka figured it was something in the bloodline that made him seem like a man from home.

He had been friendly when they first met. Unusually intelligent, for somebody who was hanging around such a questionable establishment (though Taraka knew she wasn't really one to talk). He was a lawyer, he said, and he followed politics, though he took no part in them. They talked about her political campaign, about the way people were being treated in the lower rings. They talked well into the night, until Lee was called away on urgent business, leaving her no way to contact him, despite their rousing conversation. She'd been so disappointed. Devastatingly handsome, and a good conversationalist? Rare to come by, even in one of the world's most progressive cities.

A few months later, they met once again at an entirely different bar, for the same reason. He enjoyed going to places that weren't frequented by his more "proper" associates and she wanted to drink her weight in good Northern icewine without being recognized or bothered. This time, she got his number, and they'd been meeting up on and off ever since.

At her insistence, he no longer wore drab grays, but his clothing was still drab, this time in dull green. He didn't wear glasses as often anymore, which allowed Taraka to admire his perfect face, which only seemed to get even more attractive with age.

"Come on, Councilwoman," Lee said, hoisting her up from the chair and wrapping her arm around his shoulder to steady her. "It's good to see you again," he added. "It's been almost a year since our last outing."

"Mmm it's good to see you too, Lee," Taraka purred. He seemed amused by the flirtation, leading her to her car and fetching the keys from her pocket. He set her gently in the passenger seat and drove, not to the upper districts where Taraka lived, but a short distance away, in a non-bender housing district.

"My apartment. I figured you'd rest better here for the night," Lee said.

Taraka was tempted to make as many lewd suggestions as she could fit in the time it took for him to lead her up the steps, but instead said, drunk but honest, "Thank you, Lee. I really am glad to see you again. It's nice to have a friend, especially in such a trying time."

"I heard. The Equalists," he said, nodding. "I was worried."

"At least somebody is," Taraka sighed.

"I'd have thought, with your popularity, you wouldn't be short of friends to worry about you when I'm not around," Lee said.

"You think so," Taraka said, "but politics doesn't exactly leave time for a budding social life. Not one where I have to fake every smile and shake every hand to close every deal, anyway."

"My condolences, then," Lee said good-naturedly. He opened a door to an unusually spartan apartment, setting Taraka on the bed, making sure she was comfortable and removing her boots and overcoat. She stretched out like a cat, the sheets unexpectedly soft, almost silky.

"I'll take the couch. Maybe when you wake up tomorrow, we can have a proper conversation that doesn't involve aborted flirtation attempts," Lee said, shaking his head and smiling warmly.

"I've never met a man I couldn't charm into doing what I want," Taraka said. "And what I want right now is taking the couch instead of an opportunity."

"Maybe you'd have more friends if you stopped treating people like conquests," Lee said, but not unkindly. He leaned over Taraka, brushing loose strands out of her face and kissing her sweaty forehead in a tender gesture, one that caught her off-guard.

You're far more than a conquest, Lee, she didn't say, wrapping herself around a pillow and falling asleep as Lee's shadow disappeared beyond the lit hallway, after lingering at the door for a while, waiting for her to find rest.

A/N: Who is this mysterious Lee?

Heh, I'm just kidding, you already know.