a/n:

Position: manager

Prompts: Your character experiences their fear for the first time; sweating; "Is this how it's going to be from now on?"; "To him who is in fear, everything rustles" - Sophocles

Round element: Blood

Words: 1443

Mentions of domestic abuse.

Tarrlok trailed miserably after his father, on their way home from the last "hunting trip" that their little family would have together. That night, his greatest fear had come true. Now as he walked home, he was fearless; there was nothing more to be lost.

Oh well. At least he had some good memories of the past they had together.

He wasn't sure he remembered when the good old days had ended. He didn't remember when his childhood started to turn sour. The transition from bliss to misery seemed at once gradual and abrupt, just like the role of Noatak in his life.

Since the beginning, Noatak had been his playmate, his idol, and his very best friend. But after they discovered bending, Noatak started to become detached. He was a shield rather than an embrace, a savior rather than a friend. His abilities had blossomed so much that Tarrlok had no hope of ever keeping up, or earning a similar amount of prestige with father.

But still, Noatak would try to protect his little brother. He would draw father's abusive rage away from Tarrlok and onto himself, or sneak Tarrlok food if father starved him as a punishment, or deliberately mess up his waterbending forms, so the gap in ability between the two brothers was slightly less noticeable.

Of course, this made little difference in the long run. By the end of his childhood, all it had achieved was an unhealthy attachment on Tarrlok's part, a nagging dread of ever losing his older brother, physically or figuratively. Tarrlok had no idea what he would do if Noatak decided to become the tool that father wanted, because that would encompass turning his back forever. In the grand scheme of father's plan, Tarrlok's abilities were obsolete in comparison with Noatak's, and Noatak would be required to cast aside any concern for his little brother in order to focus solely on destroying the Avatar.

Obviously, Tarrlok was afraid of losing his brother, but that fear had always been insubstantial. A childish fright of something insignificant, like the dark. He'd never experienced true fear, not until that silent, moonlit night when father taught them bloodbending for the first time. That was four years ago, but he remembered as coldly and clearly as if he was watching it for the first time.

The way Noatak's eyes would go flat, the way his ten-year-old face smoothed into something so utterly bleak, and cruel and inhumane...it made Tarrlok fear that Noatak was losing his soul. It was the first time Tarrlok seriously entertained the thought that he could lose his brother, and that thought terrified him to no end.

For the entire lesson, Tarrlok could barely stand. He was chilled to the bone, sweat oozing down his spine despite the icy weather of the night. He tried to reach towards the sloshing lifeblood of the buffalo yak that they found, but he couldn't do it. He lifted his trembling limbs and waved his hands around like a puppeteer, but he could only hold the poor, panicked animal for a second before he collapsed on the ground, breaking into tears.

"Noatak." barked father, not paying the least bit of attention to his younger son.

No other words needed to be said. Noatak stepped forwards silently and held the huge buffalo yak still with his outstretched hands, waving them gracefully and precisely in front of his expressionless face. Meanwhile, the animal groaned a soft cry of pain and its eyes darting about wildly in panic, exposing the shiny white that reflected the moonlight. Otherwise, the beast was eerily still.

"That's how it's done." growled father with satisfaction.

Then he turned to Tarrlok, who was still kneeling on the soft snow. Without another word, he lifted the seven-year-old onto his feet by the fur scruff of his parka and ordered him to bloodbend immediately.

With tears freezing onto his chubby cheeks, Tarrlok trembled and tried again, glancing over towards Noatak for some sort of sympathy, or compassion, or even a slight hint of recognition for his suffering. But no, his older brother's eyes stayed fixated on the animal ahead, apathetic towards the rest of the world. Tarrlok could barely see him breathing, moving, living. There was no flush on his full cheeks from the cold, no redness in his nose, not a single blink from his frosty eyes; he seemed like a creature made of ice and stone with mercury running through his veins.

He whimpered Noatak's name, but there was no response. When father backhanded Tarrlok across the face, there was no wince of empathy. When father called him a worthless excuse of a waterbender and a shameful son, Noatak barely batted an eyelash. Where was all the warmth in his older brother? Is this how it's going to be from now on?

Nobody spoke a single word the entire journey home, and Noatak kept his blank, half-lidded eyes straight ahead. Tarrlok was still shivering, and sweating and trying to hold back his pathetic sniffles, lest father get angry and punish him again. His entire body felt uncomfortably cold and clammy inside of his parka, and he was exhausted and aching for the comfort of home, where he could take a warm bath and mother would hug him and comfort him. Especially now that Noatak didn't see the to care anymore.

Finally, they arrived home, and father sent them to bathe and go to bed.

Tarrlok watched, frozen in horror as Noatak was drowning in a wave of blood, staring straight at him with empty, soulless eyes before the crimson current swept him away forever. Desperately, he reached out a hand, grabbing onto Noatak's coat before he could lose his brother...but he could only feel warm, pulsing liquid, no sign of Noatak in sight. Then, he turned aroun, and saw his brother towering over him, holding a knife of blood on his throat...

Tarrlok woke up, choking on a scream before he spreang out of bed, covered in cold sweat. In blind panic, he stumbled over to his brother's bed on the other side of the room in fear, hoping with all of his frantically beating heart that Noa was still with him.

Noatak allowed Tarrlok to crawl into his sheets and sob into his shoulder. Long, silent tears of terror and revulsion...and blind, dizzying relief that his older brother's arms were still open. Noatak was still with him. Tarrlok burrowed in deeper and fell asleep listening to Noatak's beating heart, grateful that is had not yet iced over.

His brother had remained with him for the next four years. Every time, after each hunting trip, Noatak always comforted Tarrlok like the warm older brother he used to be. Yet every time, Tarrlok would be terrified that it was the last. Every time Noatak paid even the slightest bit less attention to him, he would dread that Noatak had cast him aside, for to him who is in fear, everything rustles. Every action was an inkling for the day that Noatak would abandon him once and for all.

During dinner the night that Noatak ran away, mother wept large salty tears into her sea prunes, father stared hopelessly into the table, and Tarrlok? Tarrlok sat completely straight and stoic; Noatak had left him. His older brother had run away and betrayed his family and left his little brother completely alone to pick up the pieces.

His greatest fear had become a reality.

But it didn't matter. He was still alive. He was still breathing and walking and thinking with his own mind.

That was the day Tarrlok promised himself that he would never act weak again. He would never allow himself to grow so attached to another human being. He would never value something so much that he feared its loss every day and night. From this day forwards, he would milk the world for everything it owed him, and he would stop at nothing to realize his own ambitions. He would stop at nothing to make sure the rest of the world loved and appreciate him the way father and Noatak never did.

The dawn of the next day, he stood on the edge of a cliff where he and Noatak played as boys, a small crag the overlooked the sea, and he scattered all of Noatak's possessions into the salty strait. Hopefully, they would join up with his brother's spirit in the deep, dark, ocean.

That was the day he paid his final respects to Noatak, his brother, friend, and hero.

It was time he began a new life for himself.

He was alone.

Independent.

Fearless.

a/n: wew. That was actually better than I expected.

review, por favor!