Chapter Text
The moment Kuvira stepped down from her airship, the long-suffering grand secretariat was hovering like a buzzard wasp around a spilled sweet.
“Princess, where have you been?” Gun was red-faced and wringing his queue as he often did when overcome by an especially strong bout of anxiety. “Your birthday feast is starting in less than two hours and the royal hairdressers haven’t even begun their work. Her majesty the queen will be most displeased if you aren’t ready in time and…and—”
Kuvira paid him little mind, instead watching as the guards she’d brought with her unloaded their cargo. They were all Earth Kingdom military, no Dai Li, but just as competent under the right command. “Where is my mother?”
“In the throne room,” Gun said, scrambling to keep up as she started walking towards the palace complex. It had been a glut of splendor when she first laid eyes on it as a child—high walls the color of cinnamon topped with gleaming golden roofs—but now all she saw was a crumbling monolith, the last vestige of a bygone era. If something fundamental didn’t change, and change soon, they would perish.
“As expected.” She entered through the south gate, greeting the courtiers—all idle nth generation Upper Ringers—with practiced half-smiles as she passed.
Gun finally caught up with her, huffing and puffing like he was on the brink of death, just outside the double doors that led to the throne room. “P-Princess…I must warn you, your mother is extremely cross with you at the moment, and we both know how explosive her temper can be!”
“Trust me, she won’t be angry for long.”
When she opened the doors, her mother was in her high seat, screaming at a pair of gardeners about the topiaries until she went red in the face. When they locked eyes, she sent the two young men away—banished, presumably—to better focus her ire on Kuvira alone.
“T-the princess has returned,” Gun said weakly, cowering behind Kuvira.
“I can see that, you spineless dolt.” The queen rose and started walking down the steps that led to the throne. “And you, daughter. Do you have any idea what time it is? I was about to send the Dai Li to track you down! What excuse could you possibly have for this intolerable show of recklessness and ingratitude?”
A lesser person would have cowered at the queen’s acid rage, but Kuvira merely smiled.
“I’ve recovered the missing tax funds,” she said, just as her guards wheeled cart upon cart of gold coins into the throne room. The bags of money hit the marble floors with a sound like the chiming of bells.
Her mother broke into a broad smile.
“You darling girl!” She pulled Kuvira into a tight hug. “What shall we do with it? A new training field for you, or perhaps a commissioned portrait? The last one of you is already six months old—how horribly outdated!”
Kuvira returned the hug, but pulled away before long, the heavy floral scent of the queen’s perfumed oils making her head spin.
“I thought we might allocate some to the regions furthest north,” she replied. “They’d benefit from a paved road leading from the North Sea to Ba Sing Se. It could make our maritime trading more competitive, and strengthen our ties with Agna Q’ela.”
“Yes, that is true.” The queen rubbed her chin, thinking. “Honestly, I ought to fire all the ministers and put you in charge of everything—Gun!”
The grand secretariat blanched, pulling at his queue again. “W-well, her highness has always been exceptional in all things, b-b-but the ramifications m-might be—”
“Let them keep their posts, mother. Former friends make the bitterest enemies.”
“Only if you let them live.” Her mother laughed. “Very well, Kuvira. You may have your road, named in honor of your twentieth birthday…which is today. And you look like you’ve been wrestling a herd of badgermoles! Gun, how on earth have you allowed this to happen?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be ready within the hour,” Kuvira said, deciding to spare the old man some grief. As it stood, he looked on the verge of an apoplexy.
“You had better be! The nobles are already arriving!”
“Is it not a show of strength to keep them waiting?”
“It is when the queen decides so, and you are not queen yet, so go fucking change!”
“Yes, mother.” Kuvira bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning, and then headed up to her suite of rooms.
After being scrubbed, polished, and painted by palace beauticians and body servants for two full hours—making her late, but only moderately so—Kuvira entered the banquet hall by her mother’s side. She had taught herself little tricks to make formal wear more bearable over the years—thin strips of metal at the bottom of her shoes to remain balanced in high-heels, clay based cosmetics she could manipulate to make her face stop itching—but they were no match for the sheer amount of fabric and jewels that had been layered on her.
“This headpiece is so heavy,” Kuvira whispered as they sat in twin thrones on the dais, ready to receive their visitors. A solid gold chrysanthemum sat at the center of it, surrounded by three rings of emeralds, and the silk tassels hanging from it itched her neck.
“Heavy, she says.” The queen rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you move boulders ten times your size!”
“Not on my head!”
“Well, you’ll have to bear with it, Kuvira, at least for as long as it takes for you to select a strategic spouse. Now, don’t start the pouting; I won’t stand for it today! I didn’t even have a choice, back in my day. I had to just marry who my father said and then kill him on my own time.”
“Your father or your husband?”
The queen took a long sip of her plum wine and shot Kuvira an incredulous glance. Both. Definitely both. “Gun, send them in!”
On the grand secretariat’s order, palace guards opened a pair of imposing wooden doors on the far side of the room. In poured representatives of all the Earth Kingdom’s noble families, adorned in the regalia of their houses and the colors of their regions. Through the crowds, Kuvira could pick out the rich purples and colorful jewels of Omashu, the pale greens and fresh flowers of Gaoling, the steel and deep emerald of Zaofu’s Metal Clan.
One by one, the families made their way to the dais where Kuvira and her mother sat, passing innumerable stone pillars engraved with badgermoles and nimble servers with flutes of plum wine. Each lord or lady or regional governor took on a tone of false familiarity when addressing the queen, though in truth, most hadn’t attended court or paid sufficient tribute in decades.
It had only been a little over an hour, and the palace staff had already stacked a mountain of silk, jewelry, and delicate instruments she had no clue how to play behind her. The only piece she cared for even a little was an emerald on platinum necklace from Yusei of Omashu, but he was a bastard and Omashu was a rogue state and she got the sense that she’d grow tired of his company in less than a year, anyhow.
After Governor Young of Shuijing finished his pleasantries and had his heir deposit a silver bracelet in front of the princess, Kuvira rolled her eyes. It would do these nobles better to send their tax balances to the capital and leave their trinkets and brainless sons at home. She sighed, her neck straining under the headpiece fastened to her bun, but forced herself to keep up her posture.
“Cheapskate,” her mother said as she held the bracelet from the Youngs between two talonlike fingernails. “Sometimes I think it would be easier to just kill them all while they’re here. Gun!”
Sweat poured down the sides of Gun’s face, and Kuvira was sure he’d give himself a bald spot from all the queue tugging before the night was over. “U-uh u-um, of course your majesty knows best as always, but p-please consider the avatar and the military buildup in the United Republic in response to our princess’ gallant liberation of Makapu and Garsai.”
“You’ve got them all scared, darling, and it’s so refreshing.” Her mother gave a smirk before reaching for her goblet again. The queen’s expression soon soured, however. “Chin’s rotting bones, here comes Suyin’s brood.”
The Metal Clan matriarch appeared younger than Kuvira had expected, certainly too young to have mothered the five grown to grownish children who accompanied her and her husband. The youngest ones, a pair of twins, were in baggy pants and sleeveless shirts, stuffing their faces with appetizers from the serving trays; Kuvira felt a small pang of envy as she watched them.
“Hou Ting, it’s been years,” the matriarch said with a bow just barely deep enough to meet court etiquette standards.
“Suyin.” The queen narrowed her eyes. “Are you here as an Earth Kingdom governor or a mouthpiece for the United Republic?”
There was a tension in the pause that followed, which made Kuvira bend and sharpen the first layer of her gold cuff bracelet to a point. After a moment, the matriarch offered a tight smile.
“A governor was summoned to partake in the evening’s festivities, and a governor has appeared.” Suyin Beifong then turned her gaze towards Kuvira, her eyes cold and appraising even as she continued to smile. “Happy birthday, Princess Kuvira. Your reputation precedes you.”
It was Garsai that scared her—the first conquest, back when most of the kingdom’s leaders had dismissed Kuvira as a bored child, a novelty. Their spy in Zaofu reported that she started expanding her private security force in the days that followed, before she found and killed him, anyway. They hadn’t been able to get another mole into the metal city since.
“As does yours, matriarch.”
“I believe my son has something for you, on behalf of the Metal Clan. Junior.”
The eldest son approached the dais, carrying some structure covered with a green tarp. There was a slight hesitation in his posture, as though he feared tripping and dropping it. When he lowered the present on the table, his eyes—the same gray-green shade as his mother’s—were earnest, warm. There was something vaguely familiar about him.
“I’m going to need some assurance that whatever’s under there won’t jump out at me.”
“You have my word, princess.”
Kuvira gave a small smile as she lifted the tarp. Underneath was an intricate model of the Earth Kingdom, from the Northern Sea and the Taihua Mountains to the Cave of Two Lovers and Kyoshi Island. Every water source glowed with a blue-green light that soothed her eyes to look at and sleek looking trains glided across the continent, from Ba Sing Se to Zaofu, from Gaoling to Makapu, from Shuijing to Republic City.
When Kuvira met his eyes again, they were still warm, but had grown a bit more confident. Her fingers ached to adjust the spectacles that were beginning to slide down the bridge of his nose, but she ignored the impulse. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “You engineered this yourself?”
His cheeks flushed a bit, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, princess.”
“And you believe you can build a railroad that cuts through the Si Wong Desert?”
“With the required resources, yes.”
“Interesting.” Kuvira slowly rose from the high table, internally bemoaning the layers of green and gold silk that restricted her movements. She caught her mother’s gaze, surprised but only mildly so. She had advised her to be strategic, after all. “Walk with me?”
“Of course, princess,” he said, offering his arm. A hush came over the crowd as they walked out together, the members of several delegations exchanging nervous glances. An alliance with the Metal Clan would make the crown untouchable.
“Kuvira.” She rested her hand on his arm. “For this to work even a little, you should call me Kuvira.”
He smiled. “Baatar.”
Baatar. Not “Junior” as his mother had said. Kuvira made a mental note of this. Once they had cleared the great hall, Kuvira removed her headpiece and placed it next to some potted plant outside the doors. “Where have I seen you before, Baatar?”
He glanced down, as though the flooring was suddenly of great interest to him. “You may have ordered the Dai Li to release me and my classmates from prison while I was studying here.”
It was coming back to her slowly, some issue with university students doing building projects in the Lower Ring without the necessary permits. The entire matter had struck her as petty in the extreme, and she’d censured the Dai Li officers responsible for the arrests. “I remember,” she said with a small smile. “You left the capital after that, didn’t you?”
“My mother insisted.”
“I know what that’s like.” Kuvira stopped walking once they reached a balcony that overlooked the entire city. Her gaze followed a group of fire-butterflies sipping nectar from the queen's blue hydrangeas.
“Did you know a group of them is called a kaleidoscope in the north and a sparkle in the south?”
“I did not. Kaleidoscope.” Kuvira laughed a little. “The court dialect is so pretentious.”
Her elocution tutors had spent endless hours trying to instill an appreciation for flowery Upper Ring speech that never came.
“The Gaoling one is just as bad,” Baatar told her. “Half the words were made up just to avoid sounding too much like Omashu or Ba Sing Se.”
“It shows, though you’re the first southerner I’ve ever heard admit it.” She leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, letting the cool night air hit her face. “So, what makes the son of Suyin Beifong want to overhaul the Lower Ring without a permit?”
Baatar flushed a bit at the mention of his arrest. “Technology has the capacity to limit human suffering, if not end it outright. Every scientist should be committed to that ideal.”
Kuvira raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I take it you’ve never heard of Varrick Global Industries.”
An expression crossed his face, one which immediately revealed that he had strong opinions on Mr. Varrick and his company. She suspected he was the sort that had strong opinions on most everything. “I did say should .”
“You did,” Kuvira conceded. “Your mother hates Ba Sing Se and despises the monarchy, so why did you work so hard to create a gift that would impress me?”
“My mother and I have…different views on most things.”
Kuvira nodded. That much had been obvious from the outset. “Your railroad, for one. And your name.”
“It’s currently quite difficult to get to Zaofu without an airship, and she likes it that way.”
“She sounds like a real treat.” In her head Kuvira weighed the value of the Metal Clan security force against the wholesale unpleasantness that would come with having such a woman as a mother-in-law. “We don’t have to go this route, you know. I can bring you on as an advisor, a minister. Forcing you to be my husband so you can work on infrastructure projects is just primeval.”
“Do you have to marry?” Baatar asked.
She sighed. “As it stands, yes. My mother wants our alliances settled before—” Kuvira stopped herself abruptly. She was never loose-lipped about plans, but there was something about him that made it easy to let her guard down. “Anyway, yes, there will be ‘grave consequences’ if I’m not engaged by the end of the night.”
“Then marry me…if you’re amenable, that is. I’d certainly understand if you weren’t. The crown has a lot of viable options that could work strategically and—”
“Why do you want to marry me? Tell the truth.”
“Right, well…” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Besides the small detail of wanting to get out of Zaofu as soon as possible—”
“I wouldn’t call that small,” Kuvira quipped, grinning despite herself.
“Perhaps not, but at any rate, I believe in your vision for the Earth Kingdom. You value progress and care about your people—all of them, not just the nobles or the benders—and I think I can help you achieve your goals. Plus, you’re very witty and beautiful and fun to talk to. I get the sense that falling in love with you will be inevitable, so I’m proposing now as a boon to my future self.”
“You are a singular individual, Baatar Beifong.” Kuvira took the half step needed to close the distance between them, and bent the ground beneath her up until she was tall enough to meet his lips. The kiss was hesitant, but there was promise in the feeling of his mouth against hers, possibility in the warmth of his skin and the smoothness of his hair.
“This is entirely workable,” she said when they parted for air. “Fuck it, let’s get married.”
“Let’s get married,” he repeated.
They walked back into the great hall hand in hand, earning stares and whispers from the throngs of nobles who were by this point quite deep in their cups. Kuvira gave a small nod to her mother, not wanting to blindside her. The slight tightening of her mouth signaled she was cross about her missing headpiece, but her mood brightened as Kuvira drew closer.
“Gun,” the queen thundered, commanding the attention of the entire room. “Have the law ministers draw up the marriage contract! Our Earth Princess Kuvira has chosen her betrothed!”