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Dawn had come too soon in Ba Sing Se. On any other day, the sun streaming through the queen’s two-story windows would have been a welcome change to her dark bedchambers. She wasn't used to the heavy stone walls and oppressive taste in furnishings- the old monarch’s taste- not hers. Everything in the space felt too dark, too suffocating and she made a mental note to change that. It was a room best seen in the light of day.
But this morning, the light felt like an outright assault. What good were windows for? What business did they have waking her? She’d barely gotten an hour of sleep. That wasn’t entirely her fault, but she’d be dishonest if she didn’t assume some responsibility.
First there were the meetings. Spirits, so many meetings. Kuvira grew up hearing about royal coronations from plays and songs. They tended to focus on the good parts- all fun and games and glamour. She knew better now. Kuvira’s coronation had been an hour-long public presentation- a short parade, some songs, a speech for hers truly. But the real coronation came after: symbolic ceremonies, organizational meetings, delegating roles and convening with her advisors.
Her advisors. Yes, that was the other issue. Well, one advisor in particular.
Long after the sun had set, so long in fact that her secretary ran out of ink, Kuvira’s advisory council retired for the night. As the others gathered their papers and shuffled out for a well-deserved rest, one familiar pair of eyes found hers. Baatar- her Head Advisor. The thin, bespectacled man sat on the opposite end of their meeting table, a stone atrocity that forced each side to sit comically far from the other. Another mental note. She’d get rid of that thing as soon as she had a chance. It didn’t deter him though. On the other side of the table, four or five chairs to her right, he sat still in his seat. The man clearly had no intention to move. This is what she was afraid of.
Why did she dismiss the others? She could have at least kept her secretary around. Anyone- even Varrick, her eccentric financial advisor. Anything would be better than facing the smirking stare of a man she knew she couldn’t avoid.
“So?” He didn’t need to elaborate for her to know the question.
“So what?” It was a weak attempt to play dumb, but he wasn’t having it.
“You know what.” Baatar laughed, rose, and walked around the table to her seat, smiling mercilessly. The ridiculous length of a table made this moment last longer than it should- and it took every bone in her body to maintain her composure. Kuvira wanted to embrace him. Hell, there was no one else she’d rather see after a long day. But circumstances demanded otherwise.
After what felt like a century, Baatar pulled out the chair beside her and sat on the edge, leaning towards Kuvira so his face was a few convenient inches from hers.
“Checkmate.” Baatar dipped his head just slightly, green eyes peering over his metal frames, an eyebrow raised in smug confidence.
“Honestly?” Kuvira did her best to sound dismissive, rolling her eyes as she turned away to gather her things. This wasn’t going to work. Not tonight. Not already.
“Yes, honestly.” He grabbed her papers before she could, tucking them neatly in his lap. “You seem...cornered.” He paused, cocking his head in mock contemplation. “Classic definition of a checkmate.”
“But I’m not a king.”
“You’re better.” He adjusted his glasses and brushed back a few loose strands of hair with his free hand. An old habit of his. She cursed herself for missing it. “You’re a queen.”
“What does that make you then?” She shouldn’t be entertaining this.
“A bishop.”
“That’s not a king.”
He shook his head. Tch, tch, tch. “I don’t have to be.” He placed one hand on her leg and looked her straight in the eye. Kuvira held the stare, a silent agreement to let him continue. His thumb rested on the top of her thigh, fingers rubbing the side of her leg in a slow, gentle circle. She’d lost this battle a long time ago.
Baatar cleared his throat. “Now let’s talk pieces. Rooks? Too direct, too brash. You can see them coming a mile away- if you’re paying any kind of attention. You know I’m not a pawn. Knights? I’ll be honest- I’m not a knight. They sound noble on paper. But the way they move? It’s inefficient! Too indirect. Dishonest really.” He laughed, clearly amusing himself.
Kuvira normally wouldn’t have let him go on for so long, but she was only half-listening. His hand had her in a soothing stupor- how had she gone without this? Two long months of delegation and politics had passed without him and she’d tried to convince herself it was over. She didn’t miss Baatar. He didn’t miss her. These were the things she told herself- lies she’d come close to believing.
“Now bishops. Bishops are interesting.” His hand still rested on her thigh, but his soft rubs became a steady kneading, massaging her through the fine fabric of her dress. It was tradition for a queen to wear a dress, especially at coronation, and although she had no intentions of wearing a gown on any other day, she’d obliged this once. It was a long, dark emerald affair that trailed the ground, with a high collar adorned with metal embellishments. The bodice was metal as well, in the front and back anyway, with black leather sides that helped the piece to breathe as she moved. Unbeknownst to everyone, she’d been bending the corset to her comfort all day.
Now she let the piece poke and pinch her, anything to distract from him- and the hand that worked magic on her sore thigh.
“Bishops aren’t the best pieces. They’re easy to ignore, difficult to navigate. But the right bishop, in the right place, at the right time...” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “...can go exactly where it wants to be.” His breath sent chills down her neck and she twitched despite herself. Baatar kept his head over her shoulder, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
“Kuvira, I know I’m not your king. I can’t be.” He leaned back and rested his head on the back of his chair, withdrawing his hand as he did. He knew she’d barely be able to focus if he kept going and this was important.
“I can’t stop you from taking a husband. But you know those men as well as I do.”
She did. Only a handful had the royal pedigree to take her hand- two princes from the fire nation, another from the Southern Water Tribe. She’d met all three at more balls and formals than she cared to remember and was throughly unimpressed. There was only one royal who didn’t make her stomach turn- Ayla, a princess from the Northern Water Tribe. They’d dated briefly in her late teens- Kuvira’s first relationship- but the two grew apart and Ayla was betrothed last winter. All remaining options were pompous, domineering, or boring.
“The Beifong family has proudly served the crown for generations. I could serve you better than anyone could, just as we are.” He steadied himself and swallowed, preparing for the words he was about to say. “I’m not asking you to marry me.” As much as he tried not to wince, Kuvira could still see the slightest furrow of his brow and she hoped she hadn’t done the same. Those words weren’t new to her, but they still stung.
“If I may be so bold-”
“You’ve already been bold.” Kuvira shot him a knowing smile and he shot one back. Baatar shifted in his seat to rest against the armrest, stroking his chin. She would insist that wasn’t attractive.
“If I may be so bold...I don’t think you need a king. Kuvira, you’re a gifted tactician, a brilliant speaker. You’re already the most powerful piece on the board. You know that.”
“Come on...”
“No. Listen to me.” He held up a finger to pause her. “If you can only take these men as kings- if you have to take a king that’s a vulnerability...” Baatar sighed. “If your king is a glorified pawn, why have one?”
“You know why.” Eventually she’d be expected to have a child, to carry the line. This was one obligation Kuvira wasn’t sure she would avoid.
Baatar nodded and leaned in, closing the space between them again.
“You have a long time to think about that. Years from now, when you’ve won over the council and the palace and the people, you can rule for yourself. If there aren’t other options, you can make them. You are the queen. Not me. Not anyone. You can do what you want. You can leave this room and only speak to me as a subject from this day on. Hell, you can leave this room and never speak to me again.”
Kuvira fought to keep her features stern and indecipherable, but it was hard with the man she’d loved her whole life- and the possibility of never loving him again- staring her square in the face.
Kuvira and Baatar met as children in the palace courtyards. Things were different then.
Kuvira’s mother had been sickly, and as the king and queen’s only child, Kuvira was seen as a delicate commodity. The royal guard were her constant shadow. Only in the courtyards was Kuvira allowed to be a child- to run freely within the safety of palace walls.
Baatar was the eldest son of the prestigious Beifong family, a honorable line that had served the crown, largely as guards and military leaders, for centuries. Being the eldest, there were expectations. His father and mother had hoped and prayed for a warrior, a knight, a man who would carry their family line with pride. But when Baatar was found to be quiet, bookish boy, a poor fighter and an even worse bender, their attention shifted.
With a lack of expectations came a lonely kind of freedom, but freedom nonetheless. Baatar spent most of his days escaping in the palace library, reading about the earth and the stars, how tanks worked and clocks ticked. Some days, when the weather was fair, he’d grab a book and curl up in the courtyards, to read as the breeze brushed his face.
On a late spring day Baatar decided a certain cherry blossom looked particularly comfortable. He rested himself against it, settling in for a long afternoon of physics and astronomy.
“This is my spot.”
The voice was kind but firm, a statement of fact. Baatar looked over his drooping spectacles at Kuvira IV, princess of the Earth Kingdom, heir to the throne, and unbeknownst to him, a cherry blossom enthusiast.
“What?” Words escaped him. The girl wore an elaborate green dress that looked out of place on her small, athletic frame. Her hair was bound in a loose braid that had fallen out of place, hours of grooming gone to waste. Baatar suspected she preferred it that way. The princess’ eyes were sharp and knowing, a piercing green not unlike his.
She sighed and laughed. “This is my spot.”
“Ah, ah pardon me,” Baatar muttered, scrambling to gather his books in his lap. “I can be on my way and-”
“It’s fine! It can be your spot too.”
“Um, yes…sure!” Baatar started to shift his books to make room for her, but she’d already plopped down across from him, crushing her skirt and wrinkling it beyond repair. She reached for one of his books and turned it over in her hands, examining the cover.
“What kind of story is this?”
“Well, ah, it’s not a story, not exactly.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I mean, it’s a story, but there’s no heroes in it.”
She looked at him quizzically. “I thought stories had to have heroes.”
“Ah well…” he searched for the right words. “Maybe they don’t? This one is about the sky, how the stars move. They’re moving around now and we can’t see them. But you can follow them though, if you know how. I’m trying to figure it out.”
“Sounds like it has heroes.” She said this as a statement, her face the very picture of confidence.
“But heroes save people, and…” Baatar paused. He was about to explain how heroes fight battles, wage wars, and this book had none of those, just the movements of the stars in the sky. But he thought better of arguing with the princess. “I mean, maybe there’s heroes.”
“I think so.” She smiled and nodded, then scooted over to sit next to him. “I’m tired of hero stories, but this one sounds better. Tell me more.”
And he did. They talked for hours about stars and the constellations and the legends behind them. Baatar tried to embellish the myths to keep the young princess’ attention, but she’d distract him with other questions. How did the tides work? How far away was the sun? These were Baatar’s kind of questions. He answered when he could and searched through the book when he couldn’t.
The girl wasn’t a royal to be entertained, but a friend- and a curious one.
From that evening, Baatar and Kuvira were inseparable. They spent their summers playing and reading in the courtyard. During the cold winter months, he’d sneak off to find her when she couldn’t sneak away herself.
But as the years passed and the two aged, Kuvira’s training grew more intensive, demanding her time and attention. She spent hours down within the palace walls, learning politics and diplomacy, warfare history and strategy. Royals weren’t required to hone their bending in the field- but Kuvira insisted- and in a few short years became one of the most proficient benders in the kingdom.
Baatar’s duties also grew in complexity. Though he’d long fallen from a place of honor, Baatar was still expected to serve the crown, albeit in his own way. The king’s Advisor of Science had noticed studious nature and encouraged Baatar’s expertise in engineering and diplomacy, grooming him to follow in his footsteps. Overnight Baatar went from black sheep to the glimmer of his mother’s eye. Suyin Beifong, family matriarch and Head Advisor to the King, touted her son’s accomplishments, showering him with attention and praise.
Nevermind that she’d largely ignored him for the last ten years, tending to her duties as Head Advisor and mentoring her other children. She expected him to forget. Baatar never would, of course, but he pretended for the sake of politics, taking to his new responsibilities with zeal and preparing for the day that he would serve Kuvira.
That day came sooner than he thought.
Kuvira had a need for a new assistant, he heard through whispers. Her longtime assistant had fallen ill and retired to the countryside, leaving her without anyone to provide council or manage her affairs. Immediately Baatar eyed the position. He was still training to become Advisor of Science and a role like this could gain him experience, credibility. But if he was honest with himself, missing Kuvira was no small factor in his interest.
Years had passed since they’d spoken regularly and he missed their old talks and stargazing trips. It didn’t hurt that Kuvira had become a stunning young women, undeniably accomplished, strong and beautiful. He’d looked up from his papers to watch her pass more times than he cared to admit. There was no choice to be made, no deliberation. He resolved to write her a letter announcing his application.
But before Baatar could set pen to paper, a royal courier arrived in his study. She carried a roll of fine parchment, tightly bound by an emerald seal. The princess had chosen him as her executive assistant and required his presence that evening.
If Kuvira was required to be attended day in and day out, she would at least be attended by someone she admired, whose company she enjoyed. This was the first time in her life that she was ever permitted a formal appointment.
There was no choice to be made, no deliberation.
As Kuvira’s assistant, Baatar was the first person she’d speak with in the morning, the last she’d convene with at night. After a few months, the two no longer parted in the evening, a discretion Kuvira’s executive assistant was immediately alerted to. Of course, Baatar was that assistant- and that assistant was intent on keeping their relationship a secret.
Rumors made their way to court in due time, nobles analyzed a touch on the shoulder here, a glance there. But the two ensured that no gossip would ever be conclusive. In theory, Kuvira was saving herself for her future king. This notion depended on the idea that Kuvira would actually take a husband, a scenario Kuvira had debated in her mind for as long as she could remember.
For a while the two dodged their inevitable reality, reveling in their partnership, both public and private. But as rumors of the King’s ill health fast became a reality, Kuvira was steadily pulled into more and more royal preparations. At first Baatar only missed her at meals. But missed meals became missed days and before long Kuvira and Baatar only saw each other once a week, if they were lucky. Soon they were separated altogether.
This coronation day was the first time she’d seen him in months, the first time Kuvira was forced to consider their future.
She was queen now, ruler of the largest kingdom in the world with millions of lives on her shoulders. Seeing her childhood friend in secret felt like a far cry from level of decorum expected of a queen.
But he was more than a friend. Baatar, despite his expected election to Advisor of Science, was hand-picked by Kuvira as her Head Advisor, deposing Suyin from her place. Now he was the most powerful man in the Earth Kingdom, a skilled confidant, clever and comforting as ever, now sitting just inches away.
There were no easy answers, no guaranteed happiness. Pursuing Baatar could be a personal and political disaster. But there was something about the man in front of her that promised a different kind of future, a different story than the one her predecessors wrote.
Dawn had come far too soon in Ba Sing Se.
Kuvira rubbed the dust from her eyes, finally allowing the light from her windows to rouse her. If the sun was only getting brighter she may as well rise- or figure out how to shut the room’s immense two-story curtains.
Slowly she made her way to the windows and balcony, her eyes blinking in protest as they adjusted to the morning. Kuvira’s gaze skimmed the room, a tall, thin chamber with dark green walls and ornate trim. All the furnishings were crafted from solid metal or stone, the product of generations of rule. It was surreal to wake up in the room she’d known as her father’s, even stranger to wake up to company, a tall silhouette leaning on her balcony rail.
Baatar.
As her eyes shifted into focus, so did her mind, replaying last night’s events. Here he was in her chambers, clothed in Head Advisor garb, a picture of decorum overlooking the city. Baatar was usually disheveled in the morning but today he’d tidied for her benefit, figuring the sight of him in full attire would make last night’s memory a little less jarring. He was right.
Kuvira relaxed as she watched him. With that stiff collar, long embellished robes, his pointed gaze on the city below, Baatar looked the picture of Head Advisor. Anyone could believe he was a man committed to his duty, to his kingdom. To her.
Suddenly her choice felt a bit less reckless.
“Awake already?”
She jumped, surprised Baatar heard her stir.
“Unfortunately.” Kuvira joined him on the balcony, standing beside him as she watched townsfolk stir in the streets below. “The sun is too bright.”
He chuckled. “Nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” she teased, resting her head on his should. “You never had trouble with stars before.”
“Telling you about them is different than ordering them around.”
“I have a feeling you'll work it out.”
Kuvira rarely gave compliments directly. It was always like this, some abstraction of the truth. A fierce blush rose on his face. How did she still have this effect on him, this ability to render him speechless?
“Alright, come on, I have work to do.” Baatar wheeled around to leave and she laughed, amused at how desperate he was to keep composure. She tugged at his robes as he passed, turning him to face her.
“We have work to do. I want to do something my ancestors have never done.” She cleared her throat and took a step closer to Baatar. “I’m going to shape the Earth Kingdom into a modern nation. I could do it alone, but I choose not to. The nation will be better for it.”
She smiled and he did too, softening at her words.
“Baatar, I don’t like hero stories. So we’re going to write a better one.”