A/N: Some Quick Facts About This Fic:
Chapters: 37
Pairing(s): Korra x Asami, Azula x Ty Lee.
Rated: Hard T for intense nongraphic violence, sexual themes, mild language, substance abuse, implied torture and violent references.
Notes: This has been a pet project of mine since Mockingjay Part I came out, and I wrote fragments and bare bones drafts of it over the course of a yearish. I wasn't going to share; I just worked on it while I had writer's block. But then I decided to take a risk and start turning it into a real story beyond scribbles in notebooks. I'm loving writing it and hope others enjoy it too.
It's broken into three books: The Harmony Games, When Lightning Strikes, and Pyromaniac.
The first six chapters are pretty long since I had the first book completely written when I posted the story and was eager to get it out there. The chapters become a more average length of 3k - 5k words once the second book starts in Chapter Seven.

INVICTUS

"We stared into the face of death and death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't."
-The 5th Wave, Rick Yancey-

Book One
The Harmony Games

"Loving someone always requires you to not love others."
- Battle Royale, Koushun Takami-

Prologue
The 70th Harmony Games

"The punishment for one hundred years of war was eternal atonement.

"Over seventy years ago the Century of Ash ended, along with its suffering, bloodshed and discord. This disruption of balance was led by the Avatar, an illusion of harmony who vanished before he could answer for his crimes of inciting chaos.

"From the ashes of the old world, the United Republic was born and restored order by eradicating the mistakes of our ancestors.

"Opposing elements were paired within the provinces in order to maintain unity. Division between elements was obliterated and replaced with singular loyalty to our Republic and President. And as a reminder of how the separation of four elements ends only in violence, each year the Harmony Games are comprised of two honorable tributes from each of the Nine Districts to fight to the death, so we may all witness why peace must be upheld. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future."

As always, the ancient speech precedes the Reaping for the 70th Harmony Games. But Azula is not listening until she at last hears the archaic recording crackle to silence. Each word is always exactly the same, and it bores her to tears. She thinks it might be for the purpose of making thousands of people sweat in dread of the Reaping and not to reiterate the Mission Statement of the United Republic.

But she is not protesting for a second, for fear of jeopardizing her greatest desire. She is fourteen, and she knows what she wants. She wants to go up onto that stage and stand beside whatever pathetic water tribute is called, and taste liberation. Her district has not had career tributes in nearly two decades, but the moment her mother married some pathetic industrialist and had a replacement baby she has practiced like one.

Why not? Azula has no ties to District 2 or the Victor's Village she grew up in. She was never repulsed by the violence and her mother's weakness was sickening up until the moment it killed the woman.

She has always wanted what most people dread. And so, for the first time in decades, District 2 has a volunteer.

[X]

Weeks later, the finale of the 70th Harmony Games has at last arrived, and the drop of a pin could be heard in all of the United Republic.

The penultimate tribute has been slain and now two allies turn to face each other. One male, one female. Drenched in blood and sweat, slowly taking in rattling breaths, they realize that there can be only one victor. Both are attractive, vicious, charismatic, and crowd favorites; Azula is certain that the people at home in Caldera are trying to convince themselves that they will be happy either way or anxiously fixated on their bets.

Azula will win. Azula knew she would win or die in glory. But this is not the situation she hoped for; she slumps against a metal tree and wipes the blood trickling from her mouth with the back of her hand. She can feel herself becoming colder and colder with each passing second. The outlook is grim.

Her silver tongue manipulated her way through the Harmony Games, her blue fire has become the Capitol's infatuation and her mother being the Victor of the 50th Harmony Games certainly helped her pique the interest of the masses. Azula checks those off in her mind for the thousandth time, reminding herself that everyone wants her to win.

But right now, she is face to face with her panting ally who she met after she decapitated her own district partner. As soon as Azula revealed her skills, Shoji turned on her previous allies, and Azula is certain a traitor would have no qualms about finishing the job gutting her.

Her opponent is not unscathed, but Azula is mortally wounded.

Okay no, Azula will not allow any more thoughts about that, because she is supposed to win. She stares down Shoji and watches the him flounder slightly as he tries to figure out what to do. As if it is complicated. Few alliances last until the final hour, but no alliance lasts through the final few minutes.

Azula stares, waiting for Shoji to strike. Her eyes are hollow for the first time and will remain that way forever.

"Are you okay?" her ally stammers, looking at Azula's sallow skin and blood soaked clothes. "Let me help you."

Azula glances up at the weakling and sees that the foolish boy does not intend to do anything with the axe in his hands; he actually wants to help Azula instead of taking an easy victory. And Azula starts laughing, laughing hysterically as she coughs. This handsome and brawny career trained tribute just stands there, mute.

"Don't just start small talk in the final hour," Azula gasps through her uncontrollable fit of laughter. "This doesn't make for very good television. They want to see us eat each other alive, or maybe cry over the awful situation, not have sweet, tender moments. It's so anticlimactic. You've gotten this far... why stop?"

Her ally throws the dripping blade in his hand as hard as he can at the trees in utter rage and Azula slowly shakes her head in mocking disapproval.

"You're just giving up your weapon?" Azula asks and Shoji's answer is fixating his eyes on the gaping wound Azula has her palm pressed against. "Well then, you're going to wait until I bleed out. That'll certainly entertain the viewers. And after the most boring ending in Harmony Games history, at last, here is your victor... I'm dying, yes, but I didn't get this far to go out because of a little slice... Why not put me out of my misery, if you're suddenly so merciful?"

"I'm done," he says hoarsely and Azula manages to cock an eyebrow.

"Oh, but the show must go on, don't you know?" Azula purrs breathily. She can't help but smirk despite the blood dripping from her lips and her hand holding her insides in by pressing on the gash in her skin. "Give the people what they want and be immortal. I'm allowing you. Go right ahead."

"You're mocking me," he responds fiercely and Azula shrugs.

"I'm half dead. Do it. Do it," Azula says, ignoring the pain as she pushes herself off of the bloody grass. She stumbles towards her opponent with very little coordination left. The idiot does not move, but his hand twitches towards the blade tucked into his pants.

"I'm not going to do it," Shoji snarls fiercely.

"I admire your stubborn arrogance. It's actually quite impressive at this point," Azula purrs, looking the trembling boy up and down. "You led the careers, you almost drowned me, you slashed open your girlfriend's throat and killed everyone in the bloodbath singlehandedly. So why now? Why now? I know I'm gorgeous but it's not like that matters. Or have I suddenly developed legendary allure?"

He stares at her long and hard and she stares back.

And he blinks first.

He blinks first and the crack of lightning blends with the loud bang of a cannon. The light is blinding, the sound deafening, and Azula feels disoriented as the corpse brushes against her toes. She doesn't understand why that poor boy didn't understand.

Azula staggers slightly, wincing at the wound that suddenly is much more painful now that her life is no longer in danger. The adrenaline still courses through her veins, but the numbing panic has started to recede, leaving her kneeling.

And just as her breathing becomes labored, as if they are toying with her, taunting her by not awarding her victory, the trumpets blare. The familiar sound that Azula tried to keep in her head, hoping for as she hacked, slashed and manipulated her way through twenty-three other tributes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," says the rough voice of Zhao Shirei declares, "I present to you the winner of the 70th Annual Harmony Games. The tribute from District 2!"

Azula weakly rests her head on the grass and waits to be taken from the arena.

Chapter One
Kiss Me on My Mouth

I met Death today. We are playing chess.
-The Seventh Seal-

Four years after Azula's victory, District 2 is blanketed in the mist of a cool, damp morning. It is Reaping Day, and so all is silent.

Korra Raava woke up before dawn to do training exercises. She pummels a training dummy in the gym that smells perpetually of sweat, using the familiar combat practice to quell the dread building in her stomach. She is an accomplished fighter, the best pro-bender in District 2, and she always has a cocky smile on her face when she annihilates punching bags; Korra refuses to be seen as the kind of person who is afraid of being reaped.

The absolute roll she is on today fills her with a thrill of adrenaline and raw power.

Her heart pumps and pounds, flooding her with endorphins that allow her to forget about her nerves or anxiety. She doesn't want to lose anybody she loves. But if she is reaped today, so be it. Korra has no fear and she refuses to fear anything that life can throw at her. She is better than that.

The probending building used to be the training school for career tributes. The academy closed right after the second Quarter Quell, and interest had been waning even before then. She wonders if people here just gave up hope and decided to be content with the table scraps the Capitol so warmly offers its favorite district.

"I've never seen anybody up and here today," remarks the echoing voice of Iroh II, her favorite trainer, and Korra shoots him a fast grin before continuing her assault on the punching bag. "Did you decide to become a career tribute?"

"Maybe. Maybe I just want you to be my mentor," Korra says, cocking a seductive eyebrow. And Iroh only laughs at that, which he supposes is all he can do instead of thinking about how many of the kids he mentored have been slaughtered since he won fourteen years ago.

"It's not me this year," he says as soon as he pushes the nasty thoughts out of his head and she cocks an eyebrow.

"Last year was Piandao, the year before was Jeong Jeong and the year before was On Ji; it's you for fire," she says, wondering if she got the order wrong somehow.

"70th Harmony Games."

Korra punches the target too hard and winces, rubbing her knuckles.

"You're joking. She's as likely to get her feet wet in the Games as Asami Sato," Korra says, scoffing. "I'm pretty sure having the sheer luck of being the President's bastard child exempts her from needing to deal with us."

Iroh II shrugs and a hollow expression flickers across his face. Korra instantly feels her gut twisting with guilt over her comments, which must be callous to victors. But despite her regret, she has no idea how to apologize for the social gaffe. It has never been her strong suit.

Her best friend always looks proud and strong but... Korra has seen him vulnerable before. It was cleaning solution, as ridiculous as it seems. It was the same scent that was used in the Tribute Center and made the strongest guy Korra ever met fly into a panic attack.

The smell of recently cleaned floors could break that man more than a hard punch.

"She's a victor whether she's President Shinohai's daughter or not," Iroh II says calmly, snapping out of his memories, and Korra drops the topic.

"Well, I guess I'm out of luck," Korra says with another jab at the punching bag and Iroh II frowns at her.

"You're lucky if you don't get reaped," Iroh II says and Korra shrugs. She hears Ty Lee Yanxian's voice in her head declaring blithely, 'May the odds be ever in your favor!' and it makes Korra groan.

"Yeah. Let's just hope the odds are in everybody's favor," Korra says casually and her trainer wonders how she manages to be so relaxed about such dark things.

"Let's spar instead," Iroh II suggests and Korra grins at him.

At least someone manages to smile on Reaping Day.

Meanwhile, far across the district, Asami Sato wakes with her head resting on metal. Her jaw aches and she can only smell and taste the stainless steel table she was drooling on. As she comes to and studies the room around her with her bright emerald eyes, she realizes she fell asleep halfway through the work she was doing on a still nonfunctioning pet project of hers.

She then realizes that a sound woke her, and she quickly shoves the gauntlet into her drawer, beneath bras, socks and other things no one is going to rifle through. Trying to revive peacekeeper technology for her own purposes is generally frowned upon in a society with twice as many floggings as rainy days in spring.

"Oh, good, you're awake," says Akala as she opens the door. Asami nods at her and uneasily locks the drawer with a sweeping motion that her standing up conceals from her nanny.

"Sort of," Asami replies with a smile. She then wipes her face. "I might actually go back to sleep for a while..."

"Of course. Your father is going to receive President Shinohai at the train station and have him over for lunch," Akala says as she instantly starts cleaning up the many papers Asami has scattered around her room.

"Tell him I'll be sleeping." Asami flops onto her bed and only keeps her eyes open long enough to make sure Akala does not come across the locked drawer in curiosity.

She has no desire to associate with President Shinohai or his creepy wife or his creepier entourage of victors, rich jerks and bodyguards. Her mother having been one of them, before her untimely death when Asami was just a little kid. Maybe it's the memory of watching her mother burn on her pyre that makes her avoid him.

At least he isn't her father, and Asami loves Hiroshi despite how much he has forgotten that, while his inventions are lauded, he still is from here. The Capitol is fine but Asami has always struggled to pledge allegiance.

It was her mother's wealth and power that allowed him to start his franchise.

It was her mother who was such a pretty, pampered Victor that she just never left the house.

It was her mother who visited the Capitol constantly, funded Hiroshi's dreams, and then lost it all to her addiction.

Asami does not want to see what her mom once was.

[X]

Azula lays eyes on the district she was born in for the first time in four years.

It gives her chills; she never expected to return and never wanted to. To her, this place is just a painful set of reminders. While the Presidential Palace is far from pleasant, it is clean of memories, which makes it infinitely better than the Victor's Village.

"Does it disturb you?" father inquires as he carefully watches her face. She could almost swear that he sounds amused.

"No," Azula lies, but Ozai sees her trembling hands. She has learned to conceal so very much when constantly in the eyes of the Capitol, but she cannot hide from him.

Hiroshi Sato and Mayor Raiko immediately greet the President, his daughter, his wife and his copious bodyguards. The two men look as if they tried to dress to the nines, but it is pitiful compared to Caldera.

"It is our absolute honor, President Shinohai," Hiroshi Sato gushes before the mayor can say a word. "I've arranged a beautiful lunch for you and your family before the Reaping this afternoon."

"Of course," is Ozai's disinterested response, despite Hiroshi's clear desire for praise. "Why don't you take us somewhere more... private?"

His quite young wife watches with faint disdain at the way he looks at the train station, as if he has no idea what he imposes on others, but if anyone sees it, they are too afraid to comment.

Azula just averts her eyes.

"Yes, yes," Mayor Raiko says, speaking over Hiroshi Sato, whom could buy and sell District 2 if he wanted to. "Right this way."

The mayor's home is concealed by the shadows of buildings and sickly trees, and is pure black and white with several slanted roofs and too many windows. She feels like she just walked into a period piece mover, because of how bare and wooden everything is, the lamps of some coarse rice paper and candles and she thinks she might have seen a few broken fixtures.

But he takes them to a dated but nice room that has expensive statues, blue and red stones in the grey floor and decent seating arrangements. The writing on the wall reads 'The empire long united must divide, long divided must unite; this is how it has always been.' in overlarge black characters.

While the president sits in the center of attention, the two victors accompanying him take seats beside each other with shadows cast over them.

"It's lovely to see you again," says Hiroshi and Azula realizes he is speaking to her.

"I'd imagine," she coldly replies and Hiroshi nearly chokes.

"I still remember when you were just a young girl. You were just so smart at school and talented in your firebending lessons, and a magnificent addition to the district. It has always pained me to give you up to the Capitol," Hiroshi says and Azula blinks once, fighting the urge to throttle him.

"Yes, well, the district was a bit of a dead end in my career," Azula coldly replies.

He looks twice as uncomfortable now, which pleases Azula very much.

"I have to say, your games were riveting, and your public life is twice so," he says and it is what Azula has grown used to hearing, but usually from frothing Capitol fans. Not a man who has no right to talk to her; not a man who is overstepping bounds beyond his imagining. "I have no doubt in my mind that you will restore the honor of our district with your mentorship. Perhaps this year we have a winner."

"That's a little optimistic," Mai remarks and Hiroshi grimaces before collecting himself.

He imagined she was simply quiet because she was a supportive background figure to her husband. But she is... eerie, like a ghost of a dead tribute.

Mai doesn't think it is that complex or psychological; she is comfortably numb. Comfortably not fully sober too, which helps.

"Yes, yes," Hiroshi states quickly before going to retrieve drinks. "It is so rare to have such magnificent guests. Usually I'm the guest and I certainly can't live up to that, but as your host, I will do all I can to return the favor."

"Your contributions to the Games are quite impressive. And I wouldn't just send my daughter here unattended," President Shinohai says and Hiroshi clears his throat.

He thinks he might be getting ulcers.

Hiroshi, as he often does when nervous, launches into a rambling speech about science.

Azula rubs her eyes as discreetly as she can, not wanting to draw her father's invasive questions about her sleeping patterns. It becomes increasingly more difficult to hold her tongue about the fact that her nightmares, flashbacks and panic attacks are caused by the games that he inflicted upon her. Maybe she wanted them.

She did volunteer after all...

But, on the other hand, she volunteered because he knocked up her mother, which made her resent the daughter who looked too much like him, acted too much like him. Which made her marry someone else and have another, better child.

He could have claimed her long ago, but he collected her instead.

President Ozai Shinohai acted so joyous; he said he was a man who had always longed to be a father, and extended that gilded hand of the Capitol that Victors wish they did not have to take. People in the Capitol like autographs, posters, ad campaigns, action figures and nights of thinly veiled prostitution. But the richest elite like to make them offers that they cannot refuse.

Instead of remaining in their District, they are married off and shown off as a status symbol. It is, Azula supposes, yet another way that the Capitol shows its alleged generosity. She did not question because she was young, foolish and drunk on the fame and luxury that came with her famous games.

She had the life of a victor. A true one. Politics, glamor, the father she yearned for. No impositions.

Then he asked her to be Head Gamemaker.

Mai... Mai won the 65th Harmony Games. Azula knows nothing about her life before it or what later led her into Ozai's arms, but she does know that her games are on the list of the most famous for its drama, intensity and brilliant grand finale.

Mai who got married, Mai who has a little five year old daughter with the man who inflicted an unspeakable torture on her, Mai who is sober less and less frequently as years go by.

Mai who tries to stop being lucid, instead of remain lucid like Azula.

She is living proof of the fact that no one wins the Harmony Games.

[X]

After the boring lunch with Hiroshi, Azula and Ozai stand on the balcony outside of his manor. The rest of the District in sight is impoverished, but Sato Manor is in the nice neighborhood near the mayor and the peacekeepers. The hot wind crashes against Azula's slender body as she stares at grey buildings with red fixtures. The swamp-eaten side of the district us reserved for the Water Tribe citizens. She sees kids begging in the street right outside of a factory that makes fancy electronics for the Capitol, and decides that this place will never be home again.

"Are you at all concerned about mentoring?" Ozai inquires, his eyes flickering up and down. She supposes she cannot hide the tension in her muscles anymore.

"Of course I am. Dealing with the escort, getting sponsors, trying to make victors out of sweet little kids who have no clue what they're doing," Azula sweetly says as she studies her nails. A displeasing speck of dirt sticks beneath one of them. "But this hasn't been a career district in decades. It's mediocre at best."

"I'm wondering why Miss Sato hasn't showed up," Ozai murmurs as he studies his daughter.

"She must be occupied," Azula replies and Ozai suppresses a smirk at her cracking voice.

"Your half-sister," Ozai says softly and Azula tries to ignore the chills that the thought gives her. "Weren't you two close before your mother died? Despite all odds."

"The odds have always been in my favor," Azula states fiercely.

"Or perhaps the game is rigged from the start." Now he does smirk.

Azula blanches. This is what they told her. That he wouldn't hesitate to kill all she loved if she wouldn't cooperate, if she wasn't the perfect daughter. But Azula loved no one... or so she thought.

"Yes. Having a tiger-bear tile up your sleeve is wise," Azula says quietly, forcing her anxiety to the back of her mind. "But that was half a decade ago, and I've changed. I doubt she thinks of me as a sister. I'm just the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games, and I am content to be that way."

He rests his hand on her back her back in a manner of support or care as if he had been a good father for years, instead of not acknowledging her existence until it was convenient for him. Azula loves the Capitol, loves her glory, loves that she has a father figure that replaces a horrid excuse for a mother. But despite her happiness won by bloodshed, she feels a vehement resentment whenever President Shinohai makes hollow paternal gestures.

Yet, after her moment of discontent, she tolerates the way he guides her down the winding stone steps, and towards the central city hub of District 2. She catches a glimpse of the Victor's Village and realizes he intended her to walk as close to it as possible.

Azula tries to analyze it, but he casually declares his intentions as if commenting on the cloudy weather.

"Don't you see what your life would be like if I did not extend a generous hand?" he asks.

A hand that was distinctly missing for fourteen years, is what Azula would say if she were a lunatic with a death wish.

She said what she thought of his abandonment not long ago, before running away, and she regrets it, and he will make her regret it. It was reckless and it was stupid and, while he provoked her, she knew better than to tell him what she thought about him as a father.

"I never said I was ungrateful," Azula lies.

"That is exactly what you expressed. I have offered you more than any person in the world could ever even fathom, and I could have sent you back there like everyone else."

"I'm not everyone else," Azula says before averting her eyes in an attempt to undo her blunt comment.

He smiles at her and says, "No, no you aren't, my little Girl on Fire."

[X]

In the humongous monochrome city square, Korra stamps her blood in the book of a bored secretary and strides in to the Reaping the same way she always does. She is pushing seventeen now, and so this is thankfully her penultimate reaping. She shoves her way through the packed crowd of potential tributes and stands near the back with the older teens. A nearby twelve-year-old Fire Nation girl Korra cannot quite recall the name of cries hysterically and Korra struggles to look away.

She waits as the four victors are introduced on the stage. District 2 only has six of them, out of the forty-two that are still alive. There were once many more, because District 2 was once an incredible powerhouse, like District 1 or District 4. But the tributes began to rapidly die out of drug addictions. A few suicides. Sudden disappearances. Old age, upon occasion.

Hama stands on the far left; she is the only Water tribute alive. She won the 13th Harmony Games, and is the only person that Korra knows who remembers a time before the games. Iroh II is on the far right; Korra smiles at, but he does not seem to see her. Then Piandao. He won the 41st Harmony Games. On Ji is still very young, and extremely quiet. She won the 68th Harmony Games at the age of twelve. Jeong Jeong. He won the 36th Hunger Games. And, at last, Azula.

Azula, who prompts gossipy whispers before the crowd manages to settle.

And then, the District 2 escort of the past four years gracefully dances onto the stage. Ty Lee Yanxian briefly blinds Korra when she makes the mistake of looking directly at her for too long. Ty Lee glitters, covered in pink sequins and gems, sticking out like a sore thumb among the victors garbed in muted hues. Even Azula Shinohai, the Capitol girl, is wearing dark, blood red with her only jewelry a rose in her raven hair.

Ty Lee taps the microphone, blushing when it makes a dreadful shrieking noise. No one pays her any mind; they are either focused on their fear or looking at the strange and uncomfortable addition to the dollhouse display of victors.

But the attention does drift to District 2's escort when she rubs her bright mauve lips together and declares in her girlish voice, "Welcome, welcome, welcome. Welcome to the beginning of the 74th Annual Harmony Games. This year's mentor will be a very special guest: Azula Shinohai, Victor of the 70th Harmony Games."

She glances at Azula and then quickly looks away. Korra laughs quietly at the expression the girl from all of the propaganda makes in response to her introduction. Once she silences herself, Korra tries to tune out the rest, particularly Ty Lee's pearly white grin and sparkling eyes despite the sick nature of this occasion.

The introduction drags on forever, as always. A video begins to play while everyone halfheartedly watches. It features the deep, calm voice of an unnamed man. The only scenes are war footage of past rebels being slaughtered; most of the dead are waterbenders.

Nobody listens to the speech.

But Asami watches the quick flashes of the last five games attentively, waiting for the glimpse of the new mentor's victory. The 73rd Harmony Games was the blind girl from District 6, Toph, the 72nd was the airbender boy, Aang, who won by accident ─ a volcano erupted, and it obliterated the gathering of tributes, while he was hiding so high up that he was the last alive ─, the 71st was Yue of District 4. And at last, there is lightning on the screen, the carnage, the glimpse of just her face with bloodied lips against her pale skin.

The Girl on Fire.

Korra's mind starts to wander as images of District 10 and its great metal cities are shown in wreckage and ruins. She studies her filthy nails and waits for the high trill of Ty Lee Yanxian.

And, at last, of course, it comes.

"As we know, two tributes will be drawn for the honor of participating in this year's games. In District Two, we have one tribute of the water element, and one of fire," Ty Lee explains with an overlarge and dramatic gesture of her perfectly manicured hands. "So, without further ado, let the 74th Harmony Games begin. Fire first..."

Bated breath throughout the square. Korra knows she will not be chosen, but her heart is still pounding. It could be her friend.

Ty Lee reaches into the bowl and withdraws a small sheet of paper. And her eyebrows shoot up in utter shock that she quickly masks with a plastic smile.

"Asami Sato." Ty Lee makes an involuntary expression of a confused panda-koala. Her fake eyelashes flutter as she glances around for the richest girl in District 2.

Amongst the stunned whispers, Asami brushes her father's hand aside and takes the surreal walk to the stage without hesitation. She is horrified, beyond horrified, but she cannot let people think she is afraid. She cannot let them think that she is just an awful heiress.

Ty Lee gently helps her onto the stage and greets her with a shiny and warm smile. But everything to Asami feels cold.

The attendees of the Reaping still have yet to settle about Hiroshi Sato's daughter being Reaped, and how... how impossible that had seemed to them all. It seemed as if the only people who were safe were those the Capitol liked. And given the extreme reliance on Future Industries, it is an unnerving revelation.

No one is safe.

Ty Lee seems nervous as she scuttles across the stage on her pink pumps and reaches into the jar with the symbol for water painted onto it. The waiting for this drawing is always far more tense. The fire tributes have a far higher chance of surviving, and they always have. Of the victors from District 2, Hama has been the only one in the history of the Harmony Games to have lived, and it was by relatively disturbing measures.

At last, Ty Lee opens the paper and looks up with a tiny smile before reading it aloud.

"Korra Raava!" she regally declares.

Korra at first does not register the sound of her own name. She always knew, somewhere inside of her, that there was a chance she would be Reaped. She had trained for it, but it is surreal when it actually happens. A force inside of her pulls her by the navel towards the stage, her footsteps slow.

The crowd whispers yet again, but this time it is that of sadness and not confusion. Korra tries not to look at the lament of her people and holds back the tears that the pained murmurs trigger in her eyes.

Korra brushes aside Ty Lee's soft hand and helps herself up onto the stage. She makes a beeline to stand behind Asami Sato. Asami Sato, whom Korra never imagined would be in this situation. Thankfully, she looks to be in as much disbelief as everyone else around her.

Mayor Raiko recites the Treaty of Balance, and Korra and Asami stare at each other vacantly. They try to peel their eyes away but they keep drifting back to fixate on each other.

Korra averts her sapphire eyes because she can tell that they are both thinking about their history together.

The odds are in no one's favor today.

[X]

After the Reaping, a trembling Korra sits patiently in the heavily guarded room in which she is permitted to say her goodbyes. She toys with her fingers and goes through waterbending moves in her head over and over again in order to withhold her emotions.

She was expecting her parents, but Iroh II walks in first. Korra supposes he was much closer to the holding cell when on the stage, and he looks disheveled when he finally walks to stand in front of her.

"You can win this," Iroh II says forcefully, his eyes burning with passion. "You can. Trust me."

Korra feels extremely uncomfortable. "Yeah, I totally kick ass but I'm..." Korra pauses, not sure why she is experiencing such reluctance. "I mean that I totally kick ass and duh I'm gonna win!"

Iroh II smiles faintly at her. "That's the Korra who needs to go into the Games. The one who was so overconfident that she got beaten to a pulp even in sparring sessions but still thought she was the best ever."

"I turned out to be the best ever, though," Korra protests and Iroh II's smile becomes more wistful.

"Remember what I taught you. And remember the people who love you." The silence is painful. "Any last requests?"

Korra thinks about it for a second.

"Will you kiss me on my mouth place?" Korra blurts out as she sees Iroh II nervously glance at the clock.

He laughs weakly before realizing that she is not kidding.

"I'm a little too old and too crazy for you, kid," he says and Korra pouts in disappointment. "I will kiss you platonically anywhere but your mouth place."

Korra knows he is expecting her cheek, maybe a peck on her neck. But she grins in a way that makes Iroh II narrow his eyes.

"Kiss me on my nose place," Korra says brightly and Iroh II laughs a bit like an asteroid is hurtling at the Earth and the world is ending anyway.

"Fine," he says with a begrudging sigh.

Korra leans forward with her nose pointed towards him and he shakes his head in mock disapproval before quickly, quickly kissing her on the nose. It is... it isn't the most awkward kiss he has ever had, actually.

"That was a great nose kiss," Korra says, smiling for a few moments longer before the gruff voice of a peacekeeper interrupts them and Korra is reminded of her impending fate.

"I'll see you at probending practice. You're going to have a lot to catch up on, and the Harmony Games are no excuse for late homework."

And those are his parting words that feel like a punch to Korra's gut.

Senna and Tonraq burst into the room together, completely neglecting the rule about having one visitor at a time. But no one has the heart to stop them as they both hug their daughter, Senna is crying, Tonraq looks on the verge of it as well.

"Listen," her dad says as her mom is still trying to form words. "You are the best waterbender I've ever met, and you're going to make it. I've seen you in your bending matches and nobody is counting on what you've got in you."

"Hide," Senna insists. "Hide until you know you have a shot."

"You can win," her dad states and Korra is proud of them for keeping optimistic. If her kid was Reaped she would probably be a blubbering mess about it essentially being their funeral.

"I know," Korra says assuredly, even though she is not certain if she believes it or not. "Oh! Don't forget to feed Naga."

"We won't," her dad replies.

She then sees the soldiers standing again, and Asami turning away from her father in the hallway and joining Azula and Hama. Korra hugs both of her parents as tightly as she can.

"Mom, dad," Korra says as bravely as she can manage. "I'll miss you."

"We love you so much," her mom replies, and she and her husband continue the embrace as Korra is ushered away towards the train station.

Korra tries not to listen to their sobbing.

The train for the tributes is beautiful, and decorated in hues of red, blue, gold and silver. Asami imagines that it must be different for the other districts and their combinations of colors. Their escort leads Asami and Korra to their separate rooms and Asami looks around, rummaging through drawers to find beautiful clothes, and examining the fixtures.

She is not left alone for long, only long enough to clean herself up and change, before Ty Lee calls them both for dinner.

Azula is not there, but Korra saw her on the train. Hama sits silently, analyzing them both as she eats her food. Asami is made uncomfortable by the gaze, while Korra is too busy eating everything that can fit into her mouth to pay attention to her mentor.

Hama looks between Korra and Asami, and she watches all of their movements to try to figure out if she has a victor on her hands or not. She is not sure with them yet, but she hopes for the best for the Korra girl.

After eating dinner, which Korra found incredible and Asami found incapable to eat due to her remaining nerves, they sit on a plush sofa and watch the Reaping of the other tributes. It serves to make both girls nervous, as they realize this is the first look they will get at their competition.

And they know that their competition will see them as well.

District 1: Fire and Earth. The wealthiest district above 2. The Earth tribute is a volunteer who punched another kid to the ground, and the other is more eloquent, which makes Korra feel uneasy. She has dark hair, pale skin and a steely, cold expression at all times. The Fire tribute maintains his status as tribute, and they both exchange a knowing glance before shaking hands, the Earth tribute reluctant to touch him for some reason.

District 3: Water and Water. The final district that ever produces careers. Twins. It is the first time Korra has seen that, and she does not like the look of either of them.

District 4: Water and Water. 4 met the same fate as 2. They both used to be stronger and win more often, but now they have withered to a husk. A scrawny young boy who must be only twelve, looking horrified as he cries in front of the cameras. Asami bites her lip and looks away but Korra can only stare, her heart pounding. And beside him, an older boy who grins at the luxury of being Reaped.

District 5: Water and Earth. It is a middle district; there is nothing of note about it. A suave looking waterbending boy. His cocky strut makes Korra grimace. And a slender Earth girl stands beside him.

District 6: Earth and Earth. The poorest districts begin. 6, 7, 8 and 9 almost never stand a chance; everyone is hungry and devoid of hope. A boy with very verdant eyes. He is tan, muscular, and despite his warm expression, Korra imagines he could easily snap some tributes in half. Beside him a girl with bright red hair and a pout whom Korra knows will get endless sponsors because of her sex appeal.

District 7: Fire and Air. The Fire boy accepts his fate with silence before staring directly into the cameras. People will like him. Korra likes him already. And then Korra whimpers when she sees the tiny air girl, screaming as she is Reaped and dragged to the stage. Thankfully, the footage ends before they shake hands due to the crying child.

District 8: Earth and Air. They both are young, starving, and Korra does not look too long because she knows they will likely die immediately, given their district.

District 9: Fire and Fire. Korra's eyes are drawn to one of the two mentors from the district. The ugly red scar on his handsome face makes it difficult not to notice him. One of their tributes is rail thin but has a bit of energy, the other looks like she is going to faint just from walking to the stage. That's how District 9 is every year.

The President's wife was starving her year, and that type of kid doesn't make it so easily. It was pretty impressive that she won. It was less impressive that she abandoned her district and became whatever political prop she is now.

Korra would call her a traitor like anybody else, but District 2 is pretty forgiving of the Capitol's favorite citizens.

"Well, not that much competition," Azula says loftily, causing both of her tributes to flinch. Korra realizes that the feed has snapped away with the song of the National Anthem, and, judging by Asami's expression, she was not the only one lost in thought. "Maybe you two will live through the first night."

She rises and leaves as Ty Lee grimaces at her and Hama remains silent.

"I wouldn't count you two out," Ty Lee states brightly, examining them both. It just feels patronizing, and Korra steels her jaw but Asami mumbles a halfhearted thank you.

Hama just shakes her head. "It is much, much too early to tell."

"How reassuring," Korra snaps before regretting being so snide with the woman who has her life in her hands.

Hama just laughs.

[X]

Asami tries to settle in her bedroom for the night, but everything feels wrong. She rips the soft sheets off of the bed a thousand times and remakes it, rearranges things, tries to feel some comfort instead of the cold false luxury.

She is sweating like she was just in a fight when her redecorating is interrupted by her mentor, who leans against the steel doorframe of Asami's compartment.

"You must be surprised," Azula says, as if commenting on the weather and not the impending death of a seventeen-year-old girl.

"I guess... I guess I am," Asami admits, genuinely unsure what to say.

Azula has developed noticeable Capitol accent, and that might be more disturbing than the fake eyelashes and metallic gold make-up. At least, Asami decides, she does not look as drastically strange as the other people of Caldera.

There is a vague and uncomfortable moment in which Asami wonders if Azula even remembers her. Azula was ten, most likely, when Asami saw her last.

But of course Azula does, and Asami sort of can see it in her eyes. But they're broken is the thing.

"You have a history with Korra, don't you?" Azula inquires and Asami's heart skips a beat when she thinks Azula is going to ask about their history.

Asami stammers, "It's just a stupid story about an electric glove and a probending match."

"That actually sounds like a quite interesting story," Azula purrs with a cocked eyebrow, easily able to tell that Asami does not trust her for a second, given her association to president Shinohai.

But allegiance is more complicated than that. Azula does not have the stupidity or false honor to tell Asami that she was Reaped because of Azula denying Ozai a request, yet, she could play up the familial thing...

Could.

"I... Korra will probably tell it better," Asami deflects, and Azula just stares at her for a moment.

"Probably," Azula says, shrugging. She then picks at her lip before explaining, "I actually want you to have something."

Asami blinks once. And then she says, "Yeah?"

"It's a token for you to wear in the Games," Azula says, striding forward into the luxurious bedroom compartment. She opens her palm and reveals a dented golden pin.

Asami recognizes it. She gave it to Azula four years ago, when she was her sister's only visitor after the Reaping. It is a phoenix, beautiful but aged. It was her mother's token and Asami never asked where or how she got it, she just knows that it is older than nineteen years.

Azula makes a small sound in the back of her throat before leaving in silence, clearly disappointed in her tribute already. Magnificent.

Gazing at the pin in her hand feels like a memory from a dream, and nothing more.

She sits down and swallows as she tries to calm her racing heart. Sorting through today is nearly impossible, and she simply cannot wrap her head around all that has transpired.

It seems odd. It seems fixed. This is a rigged game and Asami has never been more sure of it.

None of this is about luck or odds.

The game was rigged from the start.

[X]

Azula tries to breathe. She gasps for breath but the hands holding her under the water are much stronger than her attempts at flailing and weaker attempts at bending. She rises above the surface and screams, not saving herself enough time to breathe before he shoves her under again.

She is drowning in a bottomless abyss and...

"Azula." Kick. Kick in her side, gently, from smooth, immaculately waxed legs. "Azula. Azula. AZULA!"

"What?" grumbles the jaded victor into her plush pillow.

"It's time to get up. I think you really should talk to the tributes," Ty Lee rattles off sweetly, her tone instantly gentle. It reminds Azula of rabaroo pups in... sparkle eye shadow or something.

Ty Lee's eyes somehow get even bigger every time she talks to Azula, and the Mentor is disgusted by how much she looks like the Capitol fangirls. She probably is a Capitol fangirl, now that Azula thinks about it.

Azula is sweating, disoriented and every kind of sore a body can feel. She does not remember falling asleep, but she does realize she is on a train, and that she can smell food in the other room and hear Korra talking.

"I don't care about them," Azula replies quietly, trying to go back to sleep. Her head hurts and she cannot believe she has been forced into this.

Particularly because the reaping was so clearly a punishment. Particularly because this mentoring has nothing to do with laws and everything to do with the personal life of the man who makes them. It leaves a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.

"Please come out," Ty Lee begs and Azula rolls over, squinting at her.

"Does that work on the mentors you're used to?" she inquires coldly and Ty Lee purses her lips. Somehow, at this hour, she already looks outrageously made up, with an elaborate braid, perfect make-up and pink decals on her shoulders to match her prim dress.

"Usually," Ty Lee says with a superfluous grin. She is quite used to charming victors, and she may or may not have slept with a few of them. Admittedly, Azula would be quite a conquest, given her social status and general sex appeal.

Ty Lee may or may not have every issue of the comic book series based on Azula.

The mentor sighs, realizing that she does have some obligations as a mentor. "Let me make myself look presentable."

"I'll be waiting with Hama and the girls," Ty Lee says cheerily before leaving and Azula wonders if any of the silent yet heavily armed peacekeepers have a key to keep these prying people out. She is the president's daughter, after all.

Although there is no way she is the only one...

She is just the one who would raise his ratings through the ceiling if he claimed openly and shared emotional interviews with in the months after her victory. She is just the one who decided that the way he could burn up her past with such ease was well worth playing along.

Although she knows other victors and knows what happens when they refuse things...

And then, as she finishes tying up her hair and concealing her wan face with make-up, she glances to the breakfast table, where Hama is already helping Korra perfect ice blades, and Asami is casually slicing an orange and listening attentively. She has the phoenix token pinned to her crisp red jacket.

It is not in Azula's nature to feel remorse or to think about the repercussions of her actions. It is not how she ever was, nor is it how she has ever wanted to be. But it does sting slightly to know that someone was reaped because of her, to punish her, and she is now forced to attempt to save her with no experience in mentoring at all whatsoever.

After collecting herself, Azula sits down at the breakfast table at last and Asami immediately averts her emerald eyes. Bright green: she got them from their mother. Korra also looks vibrant, and Azula immediately can tell that they are both scared, but showing it in incredibly different ways.

One fades and tries to focus on her thoughts, the other tries to make herself as loud as possible to overcompensate.

Almost cute.

"Cute," Ty Lee remarks as she listens to Korra talk about her pet polar bear dog.

"Yeah. I miss her already." Korra says relatively coldly and Azula examines her for a moment. "I raised her since she was a little puppy and we've always been close."

"That's so sweet. I once went to a zoo," is Ty Lee's completely out of touch response, and Hama chuckles to herself. "And when I was a kid I wanted to join the circus."

Asami laughs now, suddenly looking far less serious. "What?"

"Yes, I used to be a gymnastics competitor, but it didn't vibe very well for me with all of the competition. And I imagined I would run away and join a circus. I instead became an escort."

As Ty Lee smiles and starts examining fruit, Asami continues laughing and Korra slowly shakes her head. Leaning in, out of earshot of the armed guards, Korra whispers to her district partner, "As if the Capitol isn't already enough of a freakshow..." which only makes Asami start chortling.

"Learning!" Asami blurts out before feeling like an idiot. Korra laughs even harder than before. Because laughing just makes this feel so much easier, and so much less like being literally stuck on a train propelling her to her death. "I mean, we should think of strategies, or at least start to, right?"

"There's time for that once you've seen your competition," Azula says coldly and Hama nods.

"Trying to play on a script is always a mistake," the waterbender adds and Korra licks her lips. "This afternoon, you're going to get handed to your stylists the second the train stops, and then you're going to be paraded, and then, we'll start to figure out some strategy for Training Week."

"Here's my advice. Do everything shocking you can. The people want loud, memorable faces, and they want good television. Be shocking, be remembered, make good television," Azula suggests.

"I second that," Hama adds.

"Not that either of you are going to win," Azula remarks with a sigh, glancing between the two tributes. Ty Lee makes a small coughing sound of discomfort. "Don't assume. Overconfidence just isn't pretty."

Korra scoffs and Azula stares at her in a way that would make most people squirm. But the tribute just sets her elbows on the table and stares back. "You're one to talk. I've literally never met someone so over-assured and vain."

"You don't look in the mirror often, do you?" Azula replies with a smug smirk.

"You, and this one over here, get to be selfish and confident, because you know that you're never going to starve, or die on in a storm on a fishing boat, or get killed just because of your element. You know you're going to rack up sponsors because you look like the people with money, and you're fan favorites because your parents got fans first. My overconfidence helps me survive, your overconfidence is a product of your upbringing," Korra says and Asami frowns as Hama cringes and Ty Lee looks concerned.

Azula pauses before clapping sarcastically. "Such a rousing speech. You must have a lot of friends."

Korra scowls.

[X]

"So, the train stops in two hours, I heard Hama say," Korra says quietly, awkwardly striking up conversation with Asami. She is very fixated on a small, round, metal object with wires sticking out. "Don't electrocute yourself."

"Don't worry," Asami replies and Korra shrugs before sitting down beside her.

"Here's some of that tea," Korra says, handing Asami the second mug she is carrying. "I've honestly never had this before except Water Tribe tea in a few ceremonies. It's amazing."

"And you sure like your cheese wrapped bacon... or bacon wrapped turkey? With cheese? I don't even know what to call that monstrosity," Asami says with a tiny, playful smirk. She continues twisting the wires, exposing the raw copper within.

"I kind of," Korra admits, clearing her throat and squirming, "kind of want to apologize for how I went off on you at breakfast."

"I've heard it all before," Asami says, not sounding nearly as jilted as Korra thought she would be. "It's alright. People assume I'm daddy's helpless little girl, or that I was born lucky and off the hook. But I'm... Just never mind. I forgive you."

Korra nods, feeling even more guilty now. She wishes Asami were angrier. "I'm just a bit, uh..."

"Hot tempered?" Asami chuckles.

"Yeah. That. And on edge, and everything... I hate how cushy this place is. It just feels like they're flaunting it," Korra says with a grimace.

"Did you ever hear the story about Shan and Ming?"

Korra squints, pouting her lips as she tries to think. At last, she shakes her head.

"It's an old fairy tale my mom told me a couple of times. There are these two children, who live in the, probably the old Fire Nation, back before it was bombed to oblivion. The two kids are cast out of their home by their parents, and they go into the woods, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind them. Of course, animals eat the breadcrumbs, and they wind up lost."

"That's predictable," Korra interjects with a laugh. Asami looks at her for a moment before continuing.

"They came across this beautiful house made of sugar glass. I've never had it, even with my mom and dad's money. But it's made by melting sugar and flavors. So, they, starving after being lost in the woods, start eating the windows. And then out comes an old spirit, disguised as a woman," Asami says smoothly, finishing her final tweak of a bolt. "She offers them food, and then chains them up to make them into her food."

Korra grimaces. "Well this went from candy to cannibalism fast."

"I know. She gave Shan all of this candy, and gave Ming beautiful dresses and tried to keep them content so they wouldn't notice that she was just preparing them to be cooked," Asami says as she frowns at her work and starts rummaging around for something to substitute a socket wrench. "Well, they... my dad says the story went that they outsmarted her and locked her in her own oven to burn to death, and then escaped. My mom says that they were never heard from again, and she ate them."

Korra rubs her nose. "That's pretty morbid."

"Did your parents ever tell you stories?" Asami inquires softly, hoping she will not push any buttons. She struggles so much to relate to people who weren't raised in her very unusual situation. But, thankfully, Korra is oblivious, bold and brash simply because she can be, and that makes it easy for Asami to speak with her.

And only one of them will go home...

"No. But, uh, my parents used to sing me songs a lot. Mostly songs about what the Water Tribes lost in the Dark Days. One about this Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It's a lullaby. And a few others. But my favorite was always 'Leaves from the Vine' when I was a kid. I asked to hear it all the time."

"My mother used to sing this song about a dead guy and a tree," Asami remarks as she finds that there is nothing to help her complete her repairs of the radio in her bedroom. The train may be immaculate and expensive, but Asami has found that many of her dad's older inventions are disregarded or broken.

"Your mother sounds..." Korra trails off, her cheeks flushing bright red after she remembers what happened to Asami's mother. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."

"It's no problem," Asami replies with another small smile. And Korra hates how much she already likes Asami as a friend. Making friends is... is so stupid when she is about to go to the Harmony Games.

Korra also hates how she has always felt a bit like she owes Asami for something that happened four years ago. And, strangely enough, Asami also feels like she owes her. That is only going to make everything so much more difficult.

Asami feels the train slowing and swallows as Korra immediately bolts to the window to get a good look at the Capitol. Quickly, the heiress follows her and stares out. They both start waving eagerly, Korra doing it first, and Asami quickly realizing that charming the Capitol is the best chance of survival.

And, just as Azula and Hama said, Asami and Korra are ushered into the arms of guards and stylists before they can blink twice.

[X]

"Korra, Korra, Korra. My stunning tribute," says the tan young man walking directly at the half-naked and doused tribute.

She has just been forcibly bathed and shaven by gawking Capitol Citizens, and she is in absolutely no mood for whoever this is. It is a young, slender man with dark skin, bright green eyes and a nose that seems far less altered and pointed than the other groomers Korra has been subjected to. He has a spring in his step that she does not understand; this seems like the worst job ever, to be honest, yet he is happy and dressed up.

Although his body seems quite natural, and he does not have implants, or bright pink tattoos like Ty Lee, his outfit is what Korra would call somewhat beyond extravagant. He looks as if an emerald necklace threw up on a tuxedo.

Korra is in a small, metal room, loaded with fabric, make-up, and smelling strongly of a mixture of perfumes. A few people are scuttling about, all looking like some kind of rainbow freak-show. She has been tapping her fingers anxiously as she waits for her stylist.

"Who are you?" Korra asks earnestly, unable to peel her eyes away from the shimmering.

"I am Wu. Just Wu. And Capitol Couture Magazine named me Prince of Design for the past five years straight, so sometimes I'm Prince Wu. But basically, I'm superhuman with sequins and superheroes only need one name." He cocks an eyebrow and offers a playful smirk, and Korra is capable only of staring. He seems genuinely insane.

"That's an interesting scarf," Korra blurts out, unsure what else to say. It is gold. Gold and emeralds; usually it seems to be gold and rubies here. The Fire Nation never really faded from popular elitism, particularly here or in the wealthier parts of districts.

"Mhm, mhm, yes. I know. And you are an interesting young lady." He winks. He winks.

She narrows her eyes. There is a moderate chance he might be hitting on her.

"Right. So, I'm assuming you have a sunglass line to sell, which is why you requested District 2?" Korra grimaces.

"No. I actually think that Fire and Water pose way more interesting possibilities than any of those other elements," Wu says carelessly, not seeming to sense Korra's exasperation. "So romantic, you know? Opposite elements, warring against each other. Hot and cold..."

"That's the direction they always go," Korra says, sniffing and sighing. "Cliche. Ugh, love on the beach, fun on the beach... Maybe I could be a mermaid this year."

She scoffs before realizing that actually might happen.

Wu points accusingly at her and declares, "I'm not a cliche."

"I can tell from the scarf and hat combination," Korra replies quietly with a small grimace. She is completely serious about that assertion.

Wu laughs. "I have had this amazing idea with Xia ─ that's Asami's stylist and the woman behind the Girl on Fire ─ and your mentors. I really hate beaches, so that's out of the question. Instead of the gross, clashing cliché opposites thing... cold fire. Or, hot water..."

"Mhm?" Korra furrows her brow.

"Well, actually, technically really, really hot fire."

"Mhm..."

"I am going to set you and your district partner on fire."

"Right..."

"Well, we're going to give you this nice sleek, wet hair and bikinis vibe─"

"Right... and then there will be some red reflective billowing material or - oh, oh - some fake sand or the look of an old Ember Island Vintage Poster..."

"Okay, are you the stylist?" Wu asks, now looking mildly annoyed. "I told you I wasn't a cliché. Just wait."

"Mmmm..." The truth is, clichés are why the tribute parade is so boring. District 2 is either beaches or lightning storms. District 1 something molten, shining, gold or platinum. Mermaids for water districts.

The last genuine impression made by anything other than personality or a hot body was Azula Shinohai when she became the Girl on Fire. As amazing as that outfit was, Korra does not think she wants to wear only blue fire.

"You're zoning out! Just wait for my plans." Wu winks at her again.

Korra frowns and wonders if it's some kind of Capitol thing.

[X]

After being led by armed guards away from her stylist, feeling slippery, soft and strange, Korra is at last taken to the chariots leading into the heart of the Capitol, towards the Training Center. She looks up and can see the imitation Caldera, and it would be impossible to know that it was not fake if she had not learned it in school.

It is based on Caldera City from the Fire Nation, which was destroyed a long time depictions of the city are featured in every single textbook Korra ever defaced with swear words and illustrations of probending matches, Ba Sing Se too, and Zaofu when they're warning the kiddies not to rebel or they'll get nuked to death.

While the walls did not stand out to her in those textbooks, Korra feels the squeamish sensation of being trapped when she sees how the arches of land and cement look like walls keeping everyone inside. The city never ceases. Neon building after neon building; it looks like a remarkably glamorized version of the Fire Nation sector of District 2. These skyscrapers are way taller and flash and blink with colors Korra has never seen before.

She catches herself gawking at buildings and quickly snaps out of it when she sees Asami. And promptly nearly smashes her face in on the chariot. So help her, if she gets taken out before the Games because her district partner is wearing a bikini...

No, nope, nupe...

They are both in metallic battle bikinis because that is a weird trademark. Korra has never seen someone in a battle bikini outside of funny propaganda posters or when watching the games. Korra never noticed the shining lotions and liquids that make them shimmer on other tributes, but she supposes that is how they make them look like they just got back from the beach.

She kind of assumed they just dunked them into water.

Korra takes one look at her District Partner and thinks that she will probably not lack for sponsors.

Which is ultimately why the cliche, downplayed costumes are so popular. Let the personalities and bodies of the tributes do the talking, not the flash the Capitol is used to every day...

"Hey," Asami says before grimacing. That is not the most articulate she has been.

"Yeah, hey, so, uh, huh, well," Korra rambles, "I think it's weird that they seem to think we have a beach that people can swim in and not just a ton of mud and reeds with some murky water in them. You know I think those little crawfish-snails are really... I used to dig them up..."

Korra freezes as she sees Asami holding back a fit of laughter. Her shoulders shake slightly with the silent giggles.

"So, my stylist said something about us being lit on fire?" Asami inquires, edging closer to Korra and seeming not to notice how hard she is trying not to stare. "I really don't think this body oil should be near open flames..."

"They can't actually have fire. The Capitol would lose it and there would be injuries and it's probably offensive to their cultural heritage or something... I mean, no offense to your cultural..." Korra blushes hard.

Asami waves her hand dismissively. "It's fine. I mean, I'm Fire Nation, but not... that Fire Nation, I guess."

"You really do have nice green eyes," Korra says quietly before wanting to hide somewhere. No. Asami is much nicer than Korra thought she would be, but getting attached to her when only one of them is coming out of the arena alive... it's not smart.

"Thank you," Asami says calmly before turning away. And Korra swallows as she wishes she had that kind of control over her emotions. "I liked that storm they did a few years back for our District. It was pretty far from boring. The 70th Games were incredible, of course. I met the lady who made that dress. She's my stylist even though she retired after the 70th Games. She came back just to make our clothes."

Korra censors her long speech about how this pageantry makes her feel like a poodle-monkey, once she realizes that the small talk is probably the best way for she and Asami to remain detached from each other. And that, in the end, is the most important thing.

She walks to the ostrich-horse and starts to pet him.

[X]

"So, how do I light this on fire? Me and Asami can't bend and stuff." Korra inquires as Wu and Asami's stylist push them into the chariot as if they are rounding farm animals into a pen.

"It's a surprise," says the beautiful female stylist responsible for Asami and the tributes exchange a worried glance.

Spontaneous combustion is not their idea of a good time.

"Hold hands!" Wu shouts, his eyes flashing as the chariot starts moving.

Korra frantically wipes her sweaty palm on the bottoms of her bikini, but it only makes them greasier when they come into contact with the oil. But Asami does not seem to mind as she seizes Korra's hand and begins to smile at the crowd.

The parade fascinates Korra. She does not think she has ever seen so many people in one place, the seas of faces and multiple colors as far as the eye can see. District 2 is exclusively red, blue and grey. Asami seems to enrapture the crowd, distracting them from their cheers for the glimmering, molten metal clad District 1 in front of them.

It is then that Korra learns what their stylists meant by surprise.

"On fire. You're on fire. I'm on fire," Korra says quickly, looking at her shoulders, and then listening to overwhelming cheers. "We're going to..."

"Die?" Asami finishes, her emerald eyes wide. It takes them a few breathless moments to realize that, despite the fact that they are ablaze, there is no heat.

Fake. Also, bright cerulean. Fake, bright cerulean fire that is currently consuming their famed cliche bikinis based on the beaches of District 2.

Korra and Asami hold hands even more tightly, possibly cutting off each other's circulation. Asami throws she and Korra's hands into the air as it becomes evident that Korra is contemplating throwing herself off of the chariot in panic.

Asami hides her disappointment at the fact that she has already sunken into the trap of the Victor Legacy. All Zhu Li talked about before getting distracted by pins and fabrics and lipstick was how Asami's eyes were so much like her mothers. Or how wow she really had Azula's confident posture.

The idea that there is a reprisal of Azula's entrance makes Asami clench her jaw.

Korra, however, does not even notice the fact that this fire was used before, because her eyes are wide with excitement.

"Korra! Korra!" and the cheering continues as Korra slowly looks around, thinking again about the faerie tale Asami told her on the train. The Capitol does make her feel so welcomed, so loved. But they really just cannot wait until she is hacked up into pieces.

She looks to her side at Asami, trying not to think about the fact that she seems to be naked beneath the concealing blue flames.

(Is Korra naked too? Yes! Oh spirits...)

No, they have clothes on. Nude cloth. Thank the spirits.

Asami looks at Korra as they reach the Main Square, staring straight forward at the Tribute Center that grazes the indigo night sky. The bleachers and balconies around it must be constructed exclusively for the games, and the President stands above with his entourage and his very bored wife partially obscured by shadows.

The moment Asami hears Varrick Shio start to prattle on about how cute the family resemblance is, she realizes the lost interest of the crowd, their eyes drifting to that gorgeous redhead. Asami needs to make her own mark.

And in her panic, she acts on impulse.

She grabs Korra by the arm and kisses her fiercely and messily on the lips. Korra nearly falls out of the chariot before catching herself with one hand.

Now that turns every single head in the massive audience.