Chains

A/N: Takes place after the events of the LOK Season 4 Finale. All chapters will be relatively short. Korvira and hints of Korrasami (congrats on being canon!) Reviews always welcome and much appreciated!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Darkness

The platinum is cold on her wrists.

It always is. Ice cold platinum down her ankles, against her legs, and behind her. It's on her left and on her right. It's everywhere- her personal cage. Her chains.

She stirs awake and slowly opens her eyes.

Darkness. Just the same, pitiless darkness she always wakes to.

She hasn't seen sunlight in weeks. She caught a flicker of it once from across the bridges to her chamber, when the guard left the door open and another was going through a facility door parallel to it. That was the first time she knew when it was day.

Now it has all blurred together. She's lost count. She doesn't live in a world where day and night are distinguished anymore. That has long past. There's just darkness now.

Kuvira sits up. She can make out the outline of a new food tray in the corner of her cell.

Weakly, she drags herself over. The platinum clinks and groans with her movement.

Soup again.

She takes the bowl in her bony fingers and lifts it to her lips. It's bland and cold, just like it usually is whenever she isn't awake when they slide it through the hatch. Her hair is in her food.

Finally, she tosses the empty bowl back at the tray. It catches it with a sharp clatter that echoes unpleasantly around her cell.

She was once better than this. People looked up to her. An entire nation rested on her shoulders. Everyone had adored the sight of her.

She leaned back against the wall, watching through the thin little windows of her cell to watch for a guard.

No one ever came. Not the Council. Not the Beifongs. Not Su. Not even Bataar Jr.

Just her.

The girl with fair, russet skin adored by millions. The girl who both saved and ruined her chances at an autocratic, secure future. The avatar.

Kuvira rests her head against the platinum wall behind her, inhaling slowly.

She whispers her name in a guttural, longing choke.

"Korra."

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