Looking Through Glass

Author's Note: This was written after the first season of The Legend of Korra. This one-shot is the updated, 'canon-ish' version of Looking Through Glass.

I hope you all enjoy!

c:

I always thought you were weak—

Her face was smaller than his hand.

His goddamned hand!

How was that even possible?

The army of chi blockers in metal suits had wiped out the obstacles such as the Metal Bending Police Force, the Council, the Task Force, and even the Avatar.

He was getting everything he wanted; everything that his father had wanted. Yakone would have been so proud of him. He wasn't some child who was terrified or too weak to force another's blood to curl at his command.

No, he was not like his brother—

—but he wasn't like his father either.

Obsessed, his father was. Forcing over and over for his sons to become more and more like him. To be strong like him. To be fearless like him. To be merciless like him. There were days where he felt something looming over him; forcing, oppressing, demanding—

But the look on the little girl's face forced the man to pause. His thumb had pressed against all of the other air benders; now she was the only one left. He had obliged the benders to their knees, in front on him, and faced their last breath as a bender.

He was becoming the most powerful bender in the world; he was becoming the only bender in the world.

The benders all whined, prayed, begged, cried, whimpered, screamed, struggled, and bribed, everything to get themselves free of their non-bending life. It was pathetic really; it was like he was going to kill them—

But not this girl; she did have fear painted on her face. However, her eyes were fixed on her collapsed father, full on concern.

By the gods—her expression reminded him painfully of young Tarrlok's face; so worried about Mother, not giving a damn about bending—about their father. He could have never blood bended like Amon could. He couldn't force the hot blood to his command, to make it halt it's flow, to make them suffer—

She was afraid for him. Not herself.

No, he could not stop this now. Not because of this girl. He had to avenge his father—his mother—even for his brother. He had to. He was always protecting him, even if that meant taking away the power he hated so much.

Stepping forward toward the child, who was easily taken to her small little young knees, Amon stretched his hand out, taking a notice towards the size of her face again. His hand slowly twisted and power surged to his fingertips. He could feel her blood; pumping and full of life. His thumb stretched out and was centimeters from above the bridge of her little nose—

"—Is daddy going to be okay?"

Her voice was loud—possibly annoying if he was being honest, but it was rasp, like she was trying to be strong—strong for her father and for her brother and sister. He paused with hesitation as the girl finally tore her eyes from her father who laid motionless on the ground. Her light colored hues stared up at him; her tears finally trickling down her cheek.

Noatak had seen so many benders cry.

They cried for their bending—not even their lives—but their bending.

This kid could care less.

She cried for her father's current state. She cried because he was not moving. She cried because she didn't understand. She cried because she was scared for him. He could imagine why it must seemed like to her. So young, so ignorant. How was she to know? Too know her father was going to be alive?

He remembered when Tarrlok cried for the sake of others.

"Is he going to be okay?!" she wailed again, shutting her eyes with a loud sniff. Snot and tears continued to roll down her face before she opened them again, gazing at the older air bender. "Is he alive?"

Tarrlok gasped, his eyes wide with shock, disgust, and unshed tears.

'STOP!

YOU'RE HURTING IT!'

The lips behind the masked briefly parted to let out an audible sigh. Moving his hand away from the girl's forehead, he flicked his wrists and the chi blockers released the kid without and ounce of hesitation.

A normal person would had ran away from Noatak; that, or attack him, but she simply let herself slump on her thighs before she rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her air bending attire. She sniffed loudly in front on him.

'BLOOD BEND YOUR BROTHER!' His father demanded, but Tarrlok shook his head, determined, yet so afraid.

He felt a small pressure on his arm. Looking down through the mask that had terrified many, she weakly tugged him along towards her father.

What the hell?

'NO! I WONT DO IT!'

He could have shoved her away, rip his arm out of her tiny little fingers. It would have been easy; she was just so small. He could even grip her blood and toss her away like she was completely nothing. He could have simply walked away; he could take her bending away; but he couldn't—

—he could have. Just like Tarrlok could have fought him all those years ago.

But he didn't.

Tarrlok was much stronger than him; he valued his brother's health; his life—

—just like this child.

He allowed the child to cling to him, forcing himself to ignore his army watching incredulously. Following the child as she basically crawled, Amon kept her from falling over when she hiccuped, air sending her backwards. Why didn't he hate the small bending child?

Tarrlok only shook his head; his clenched fists shaking, his shoulders trembling.

'That felt awful. I don't want to do that to anyone'

It felt like forever had passed when the weak child crawled to the older air bender.

"Daddy," she whined as she leaned her head against her father's calm rising and falling chest.

He was still breathing; still alive.

'Let's run away together.'

When she calmed down, the all mighty fake 'Equalist Leader' knelt down and placed his hand on her head, trying to give some comfort; even if it was awkward.

"What's your name?" He asked, trying not to be as intimidating as possible.

'Run away? But what about mom? We can't just leave her!'

"Ikki," The kid replied, looking up towards him with pure, hopeful, innocent eyes.

'Well, Ikki, you're father is going to be fine."

'Father was right about you,' he spat. "You are a weakling.'

—you were always stronger.