Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or The Legend of Korra. I just really, really, REALLY love playing with these characters.

A/N: OK. I'm gonna do it (or at least do my very best). I'm gonna participate in Makorra month. I'm really excited to get started, and I've been having a lot of fun with the prompts, so I hope that you'll enjoy my little collection of fics. For the most part, I'm taking the prompts rather liberally, working the themes into my works the best I can without being so literal as to be fully constrained. After all, writing is creative, and creativity has no boundaries!

Enjoy the first fic!

Forever and Always

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Mako is five years old and he loves fairy tales.

His favourites are the ones about dragons because dragons breathe fire. He likes that the large, horned creatures are noble and wise, guarding all the knowledge of the world for a thousand centuries, and only showing themselves to the most gifted and deserving of firebenders.

"I'm going to see a real dragon one day, Daddy," he brags as his father tucks him into the bed he shares with his little brother. Bolin is already asleep, his stout, chubby legs kicking under the quilt as he dreams.

"Of course you will," his father agrees, little lines creasing at the corners of his dark green eyes as he smiles. He sits beside his eldest son, snuggling against the boy as he opens a large, well-worn storybook full to bursting with fantastic tales of dragons, lost princes, hordes of treasure, hidden cities, and a happily ever after kiss. As the large man reads aloud, Mako listens quietly. He snuggles under the blankets and sinks deeper into his warm cocoon, lulled into a soothing calm by the low, comforting voice that tells him of such wild adventures that the little boy's imagination can hardly keep up. Only when his father reaches the end of the tale – when the dashing jewel thief turned reluctant hero wins the heart of the lady of his dreams – does Mako make a sound.

"Is there always a happy ending?" he wonders through a long and somnolent yawn.

"Always," his father promises.

"And will the hero and his lady be together forever?"

The boy's golden eyes are closed and his father has turned out the light. He takes long breaths, each one pulling him further and further away from the waking world. Still, he feels as his father leans over him and brushes hair off his brow with the gentlest of touches. A sense of safety and love so much warmer than the blanket that's tucked around his small body spreads over Mako like a homey fire in a welcome hearth.

"Always."

Mako is eight years old and he doesn't believe in happy endings anymore.

Happy is a word that he has lost, buried deep in the ground with his parents. Not even the red scarf that still smells of his father can bring the boy solace.

Another harsh midnight draft seeps through the seams of the pathetic shelter Mako has constructed out of boxes and dirty blankets, and he curls closer to Bolin, protecting his brother from the cold. It is the first night they have not slept in a bed, in a house, under a blanket. It is the first night they've ever spent outside, nestled beside each other on a pallet of newspapers, the hard concrete ground as unmoving as the headmaster at the orphanage they had run away from that afternoon.

They had run away because the headmaster wanted to separate them, to send Bolin to a family in the faraway city of Omashu where Mako would never see him again. When Bolin had cried, the headmaster had struck the little boy with his cane. Mako had raced to his brother's rescue, firebending the bitter old man's cane into a brittle burnt twig before rushing out of the unhappy building and into the city, Bolin's hand clutched tightly in his.

They are lost, now.

They are all alone.

Mako wants to cry.

He misses his mother and father. Already he is forgetting the sound of their voices, the way his mother would smile at him when he returned home from school, how his father's booming laughter would fill the house with cheeriness, how they used to tell him how much they loved him.

Tucking his nose into the familiar soft wool around his neck, absorbed by the scents of cinnamon, tea, and lemon, Mako wonders why his father lied to him. Why had the man he so admired whispered promises of forever and always when he was just going to leave his sons to fight for themselves on the hard and lonely streets of Republic City? Why had he cruelly taunted his eldest with visions of great adventures, fire-breathing dragons, and happily ever afters when none of it was true?

Why had he died? Why did both of them have to die?

"Mako?" Bolin asks, shaking from the cold. Mako concentrates and manages to use his firebending to warm his own body before hugging his brother in a strong grip, sharing his heat with the shivering six year old.

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to leave me, are you?"

"Never."

"You promise?"

"I'll stay with you forever, Bo."

His teeth are chattering as he makes his oath, swearing that, for as long as he lives, he'll never let anything happen to the only family he has left. As he makes this sacred promise, the wind gathers in strength and nearly topples down their shelter. Using his firebending the best he can to keep them warm, Mako wraps his scarf around Bolin, hoping that the last piece they have of their father will protect them.

"We're going to stay together. Always."

Mako is fourteen years old and he can't stop thinking about Song.

She is Lightning Bolt Zolt's niece and she's living with her uncle for the summer while on holiday from her boarding school in Ba Sing Se. Mako thinks she has very pretty hair. It is the colour of polished coal and she always has it pulled back in a braid that trails down to her knees, a purple flower pinned in the silky tresses just behind her ear. She is three years older than him, but she likes him better than the other boys in the gang because he doesn't let her win at cards.

"You don't treat me like I'm special," she tells him, as if that is supposed to be a compliment.

He wants to treat her special, though. He wants to take Song out to the opera, because he knows she likes classical music, and he wants to hold her hand as they go for a walk in the park. He wants to tuck that purple flower into her hair, and kiss the rouge off her lips, and taste the mint from her tea on his breath. He wants to hold her until the stirring tightness in his belly suffocates him and his body vanishes into a million tiny stars.

He wonders if this is the forever feeling that meant you had found your happily ever after. Mako thinks he can be happy spending forever with Song. She is pretty, and she makes him laugh. She treats him like an equal and not like one of countless runners employed by her thug boss uncle. She teaches him to read and write, and nearly has him playing the piano, but then Zolt asks him to go out on a lot of jobs and he's so busy that it's nearly two weeks before he is able to arrange another meeting with Song.

He asks her to join him for tea, promising to meet her in the park by the pond at three o'clock. With the extra money he has earned from the jobs Zolt's sent him on, Mako scours the city and buys the most perfect purple flower he can find. It is an exotic bloom all the way from Ember Island. The petals are as soft and delicate as satin and the purple is so rich that it looks nearly black.

He knows Song will love it.

He knows that when they see each other, the pretty girl will rush into his arms, tell him she's missed him, accept his gift with melodious gratitude, and maybe, hopefully, she'll do something that will make those wonderful sparks coarse through his body again and leave his palms sweaty, and his breath rushed, and his heart pounding so hard it feels like its going to explode.

His heart does shatter when he arrives at the park and sees Song kissing Shady Shin.

He stops just behind the fountain, obscured by a sheet of water, and watches. Song's lipstick is smearing under the rough barrage of Shin's lips. The older boy's fingers are combing into Song's luscious dark hair and upsetting the flower she had put there that morning. She doesn't notice it fall, and she never notices Mako. She doesn't call out for him as he turns and walks away, tears falling from his honeyed eyes to dribble down his chin.

He wants to set himself on fire with his own bending rather than live with the humiliation of rejection. He is such an idiot, thinking a girl like Song would love a boy like him. He's nothing, a street rat, a lackey for her uncle, an utterly forgettable person. It was dumb to think she might care, that the way he felt about her was something that could last forever. His feelings were no different than the purple flower he had burned in his hand, dark cinders fluttering between his fingers.

He decides right then that girls are trouble, and he wants nothing to do with them, not when they can make him feel like the boldest firebender in the city one moment, and then utterly crush him into ash the next. If this is the forever sort of love then Mako wants no part of it! It hurts too much, it keeps you distracted from what's truly important, and it leaves you feeling like too much and too little all at once.

Mako swears to never let himself fall prey to these sorts of feelings again. Instead, he will stay cool and focused on his life's singular goal, to keep Bolin happy and safe, and he'll never let his heart rule over his head ever again.

It is better this way, Mako knows, and that's the way it is going to be.

Always.

Mako is eighteen years old and he's just met the craziest girl in the world.

Her name is Korra, and she is the Avatar. She has just joined the Fire Ferrets and is cockily demanding his submission to her bending talents.

"Just say I'm the greatest waterbender you've ever known and I'll stop pestering you," she promises, blue eyes glowing with mischief. They are the bluest eyes Mako has ever seen, even bluer than the coloured glass that's sold at the market. She's in her training uniform, the grey cotton and protective pads doing nothing to enhance her attractiveness, yet Mako can't help the strange stirring that seems to draw him closer to Korra every time they are together.

"You've still got a lot to learn," he tells her as he puts away the gym equipment they'd been practising with.

"So teach me."

The girl is relentless. First she charmed her way into the player's box the night they first met, then she pushed her way onto the team without his consent, and now she was pestering him to teach her some moves when what they should be worrying about was how to get money for the championship pot. Korra, he thinks, has no sense of priority.

"I've got to get ready for my shift at the plant. I don't have time to teach you. Besides, I'm a firebender."

"And I'm the Avatar," she counters in good humour. "Why do you keep forgetting that?"

He doesn't forget she's the Avatar, he just doesn't think it's important.

"You're the Fire Ferrets waterbender," he reminds her. "Focus on that."

"Whatever you say, team captain," she snorts.

Satisfied, Mako finishes stacking the mats, intent on hurrying up to his apartment and taking a quick shower before he has to go to work. As he turns around, a stream of flames hurtles past his face, his skin flushing under the orange and yellow heat. He acts on instinct, flinching back as he raises one hand to bend the fire away, aiming for the ceiling. For a split second, he thinks they are under attack, that the Triple Threats or even the Equalists have come to exact their revenge. He is about to yell at Korra to get ready to fight, but the sputtering guffaw that echos off the gym walls douses his panic, and he turns to look at his companion, confused and unimpressed.

She is laughing at him so thoroughly that her entire frame is shaking. Tendrils of thin grey smoke are seeping lazily out of her nose and from between her teeth, swirling around her face like foggy ribbons. She looks just like a dragon from a fairy tale, larger than life, as ancient as the world, and absolutely bewitching to behold.

She used Breath of Fire on him. Why? To get his attention?

"The look on your face!" she hoots, doubled over and holding her stomach as she laughs so hard tears stream out of her eyes. Mako is totally flabbergasted. Korra very nearly singed off his eyebrows as a joke? She is clearly a loose cannon, so why does he find himself so anxious for her presence? Why does he spend the nights looking out into the darkness to the island where she lives when it is clear that she is only going to make his life a challenge?

"Have you always been insane?" he asks, half sarcastic and half intrigued. He watches, befuddled and entranced, as the girl looks at him. He catches his breath as their eyes lock, seeing a thousand things in her large blue orbs, reminded perfectly of why he's found himself staring at Air Temple Island every night since the moment he met her.

She really is just like one of his storybook dragons.

Hiccoughing as she tries to calm her laughter, Korra smiles that charming smile of hers, the crooked one that tends to curve to the left, leaving a teasing dimple in her chin. Mako ignores how his heart beats faster.

"Always."

Mako is eighteen years old and he's confused.

He swore he wouldn't let his heart rule over his head, promised himself that he would keep his passion in check least it destroy him, and now he's kissing Korra. He's kissing her in the darkness, her face softly caressed by the warm glow of the pro-bending arena. He's kissing her even though he knows Bolin has fallen for her, and hard, too. He's kissing her with such a surprising sense of rightness that he forgets he has a girlfriend that he's supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow. He's kissing her because she likes him and he thinks she's infuriating and amazing, and he likes her so, so, so much!

But he likes Asami, too.

He likes them both, not more or less, but differently.

Asami is the kindest woman he has ever met. She is generous, humble, and sweet. Her beauty is just a compliment to all of her other qualities, and most astoundingly of all, she wants him. Him, a dirt poor, street urchin, rookie athlete firebender with no titles, or mansions, or even thirty yuans to his name. She is cultured, and elegant, and she wants to share her world of comfort and security with him and his brother. His head tells him that Asami is the one, and he listens, because he learned long ago that leading with your heart only got you into trouble.

Korra is as wild as the sea, rough, arrogant, and stubborn. She makes him want to rip his hair out, or set fire to...well, to everything! She makes him crazy, causes him to lose focus, lose control. And just when he has her pegged as a spoiled little pest, she helps him save his brother, she gives him hope for winning the tournament, and she reaches out to him like only the truest of friends. Korra has a good heart, one that is strong and brave, and for some reason she wants to give that amazing heart to him. She thinks they were meant for each other, and he has no argument.

Mako is stunned, locked at a crossroads and blind as to which path he should walk.

He knows that Asami is the better choice, the safer route. But his heart – foolish, fragile, feeling thing – is pulling him towards Korra, has always been urging him in her direction, because even if he won't admit it, Korra is the right choice.

She makes him feel so much that his body can't hold it all in.

And that's why he kisses her back. That's why he loses his mind for just a moment and drags her closer. That's why he looks at her with such awe and adoration as they part. That's why he wants to kiss her again, and again, and again. That's why he knows he's going to be in trouble.

He smells cherry blossoms, and sees Korra's smile falter a second before pain and hurt flood her blue, blue eyes. He turns around and sees Bolin, the earthbender's eyes lancing into his soul like lightning, and his heart sinks like a stone.

There it is, trouble.

Just like always.

Mako is eighteen years old and he's in love, although he doesn't know it.

Everyone else does.

Pema is the first to notice, watching with a nostalgic eye as Mako hovers like a mother sky-bison over Korra, worried as she eats, as she sleeps, as she walks, determined to be at her side should she need him for anything, even a comb to brush through her tangled tresses. She whispers in Tenzin's ear about how sweet the young couple looks. Her husband's face turns red while his own eyes seem a mixture of gladness and regret. It's the same way Lin looks at the two teenagers when she thinks no one is watching.

Bolin tries to not let it bother him. He's still sore from Korra's rejection, and his kind heart is sensitive to the fact that it is his own brother who has managed to win the lovely girl's affections. He isn't mad, though – he could never be mad – because he loves his older brother more than he's ever loved anyone his whole life, and if Korra will make Mako happy, then Bolin wishes for them to be together. Still, it doesn't completely dull the sting, and as Mako goes to bring Korra inside for some rest, Bolin decides to go to his room and read while Pabu naps on his belly.

Jinora thinks it's blissfully romantic and spies on the pair whenever she has the chance. Real life is so much better than her books, after all.

Ikki likes to copy her sister, so if Jinora thinks that Mako and Korra are interesting, then she does, too, although she wonders why Korra doesn't make the firebender drink a love potion. It would make everything move along much more quickly.

Meelo stares at Asami's shiny hair and devises masterful plans to win the pretty lady's heart for himself.

Asami wonders how she never noticed it before. As she watches Mako nurse Korra, scolding her for not getting enough rest, bickering with her over her insistence that she train, insisting that she let other healers see to the more serious of her injuries, the young woman reaches the crushing, but illuminating truth. Her boyfriend is in love with another woman. She sees the passion Korra inspires in the normally reserved Mako, knowing she could never make him so tense, or so flustered, or so protective. She knows his heart isn't hers, that perhaps it never was, and even as her own heart breaks, Asami can't hate Mako or Korra. They are her friends, her family, now, and even though she is furious with both of them, she knows these feelings will pass. She hopes it will happen soon.

Korra is both flattered and annoyed by Mako's attention. She enjoys spending time with him, selfishly relishing the walks they take around the island in the morning, or the hour he spends reading aloud to her at night, or they way his knee bumps hers when they sit together at the dinner table. But she's tired of being treated like a patient. She is not weak – she refuses to be weak – and the only way she'll get strong is if Mako simply backs off and lets her continue her bending training.

She wants to run through the spinning panels one more time before dusk, and then she'd like to do some earthbending with Bolin, perhaps some hand-to-hand combat with Asami, but Mako is insistently pulling her inside the temple and escorting her to her room.

She grumbles.

She loves the guy, she really does, but she doesn't like him very much right now.

Mako is determined to protect Korra, even if it's from herself.

"You've done enough training today," he scolds, pushing her into her bedroom. "You need to rest."

"I'm done resting!" she insists, shaking his hands offer her shoulders and crossing her arms as she faces him, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, and irritated pout perfectly puckered. He almost wants to kiss her, but there are more important things to worry about right now, like her full recovery. She still limps if she's been on her feet too long, and if she tries to twist her torso too sharply she stiffens, swallowing her pain and hoping no one notices.

But he notices.

"Lie down," he says, meeting little resistance as he helps Korra to her bed. She doesn't bother masking the grunt of discomfort as she lifts her legs to recline on the narrow mattress, the movement upsetting her side. Mako frowns, wishing Korra's pain to be gone, but knowing that the only true cure is for the hard-headed girl to rest. He's not going to let her hurt herself in a pride-clotted determination to push herself too far.

He won't lose her again. He is certain he couldn't handle it.

The fear that had had a stranglehold on his heart when Korra had been missing is still slithering within him. He hasn't forgotten the panic, the worry, the feral desperation to find her, touch her, hold her, know she was safe. He's starting to understand how he feels about Korra, that it's more than friendship, and it's more than fancy, but things are still complicated.

"Don't you have a girlfriend you should be pestering?"

Very complicated.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, standing by her bedside, an ever vigilant guard-dog, perhaps even more so than Naga. Korra isn't looking at him and she's still pouting, but she childishly shakes her head, imploring him to stay.

He does without question.

He sits in a chair beside her bed and waits until she decides she's ready to talk. If he has to, he'll wait forever. And he thinks that, when it comes to Korra, he will always feel this way

Absolutely always.

Mako is eighteen years old and he has found his happy ending.

Her name is Korra. She is the Avatar, but he prefers to think of her as a dragon, strong and fierce. A noble and wise (if brash and infuriating) being as ancient as the world. She has eyes the colour of the ocean reflected in the heart of an iceberg, and skin as warm and dark as melted cocoa. She drives him crazy, but he thinks she's amazing, and when he sees her slowly float back to the earth, her bending restored and her connection to the Spirit World at last tethered, he knows that he will follow her wherever she goes.

He opens his arms for her, holds her tightly against his chest, feels her heart against his beating fast, and hard, and happy. Her palm touches his cheek, still tingling with the power of the Avatar State, and it is as soft as Pabu's fur.

"I love you, too," she says, voice a sincere and heartfelt whisper. Mako feels his own heart swell, like his body has become the flames he bends, and then she's kissing him, arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and everything in the world stops existing except for the two of them.

Mako thinks that, in this case, and perhaps in all cases past and future, following his heart has been the best choice. He knows that fairy tales are real, because only in a fairy tale could he love someone this much and be lucky enough to have them love him back.

He knows that he loves Korra, and that he will always love Korra.

Forever.

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Everything in life is temporary because everything changes. That's why it takes great courage to love, knowing it might end anytime but having the faith it will last forever.

–Francine

One down, thirty to go!

Wow, when I put it like that, it seems like a lot more work. Oh well, I'm up for the challenge! So, I hope you liked this fic. The POV was a departure from what I usually write, but from the moment I started typing, my fingers knew that this was the way I wanted to tell the story. Or perhpas, like Mako, I started listening with my heart and not my head xD

I hope that you enjoyed this fic, because I really did have a lot of fun writing it. If you'd like, you can leave a review, comment or question.

I'll see you tomorrow with the next installment.

Keep calm and Korra on.