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AU prompt for Opalvira week, chapter 2 of Division, read here on ao3! ***

Jinora deposited Kuvira outside the town of Gaipan with the promise of staying the night in town and leaving the next day at noon, with or without Kuvira.

On her person, Kuvira packed her glider and a small pouch of coins. Despite having more in her possession than any air nomad should, she approached the maglev train which rested imposingly on the horizon feeling distinctly unequipped.

As a guard in Zaofu, Kuvira had never walked outside this unarmoured. While her weapons were readily accessible, the air around her and the hands at her side, Kuvira felt uncertain. Not afraid, but uneasy.

She approached some soldiers with little fanfare. She explained to the guards she was an air nomad, an old friend of the Great Uniters, that she wanted to speak to them.

The guards looked somewhat skeptical, but it was clear to Kuvira that her nomad uniform earned her some goodwill. People were fascinated with airbenders, and respected the non-violence of the nomads. Though Kuvira couldn’t understand it, she was grateful for it. She doubted the guards would have entertained her at all, if not for her uniform. Perhaps it was just the presence of a uniform that they respected. Kuvira could understand that.

Half an hour passed with Kuvira standing empty-handed in front of the train before a female guard approached Kuvira again and led her up inside of it.

It was bizarre—to watch the guard unlock and relock each compartment behind them as she escorted Kuvira deeper and deeper into the train. It was hypnotic.

It was different from seeing the maglev from the outside—a sleek shark of platinum and steel. It looked like the tip of a sword, slicing through the landscape with unstoppable ease.

Inside, the maglev was like a cage.

Three compartments in, Kuvira felt a heady rush of claustrophobia, knowing she could not leave this train without the help of a metalbender. She found the feelings within herself before they rose too high. She tamed them, and progressed on without any sign of complaint or worry. What did she have to be worried about, after all?

The elaborate nature of the sequential compartments was a sign of paranoia, but good foresight. If Bataar and Opal were intending to continue to run a successful nation, they needed a strong and defensible base. If anything, it was a shock that Kuvira could get this far in without Bataar or Opal personally confirming that it was her.

The nomad uniform certainly was a powerful thing.

Kuvira wondered, though—if Opal and Bataar were this well hidden, if it would be possible for Kuvira to get the answers she wanted in just one conversation. With each compartment bypassed, Kuvira became more and more skeptical.

At last, the guard delivered Kuvira outside a pair of sliding doors. The guard hung back, watching Kuvira expectantly. Apparently, the guard could no longer proceed, but was still waiting at the ready in case Kuvira was a threat.

Kuvira looked at the doors. They were metal, but a thin kind, and collapsible. No doubt that, like everything on this train, this was built with metalbenders in mind, but Bataar was a nonbender. So, this door was multi-use, something that Kuvira could pull open physically. Kuvira gained the distinct impression that she was in the heart of the operation now.

She reached forward and stifled a grunt as she pulled the door aside. Heavier than she had expected.

The room hidden behind the door was much wider. Instead of being framed on both sides by compartments, the room was an open area, with two desks and a large table clearly intended for dining. And there were windows—wide windows that let in the view and sunlight from outside. Windows that Kuvira could break if need be.

Kuvira could see the town again and felt distinctly like she’d emerged from a cave. Kuvira had not been panicking, but still—she knew she could breathe easier now.

She looked ahead, taking a closer observation of the room.

Kuvira didn’t notice Opal at one of the desks until her gaze had accidentally passed over her, a statue prompting a second look.

Opal was buried at her desk among mounds of documents, a discontent frown on her face as she concentrated on what she was reading. She hadn’t noticed Kuvira enter, or at least had not acknowledged it.

Kuvira stepped forward, light on her feet, and Opal still did not react. Kuvira settled, still, and observed the girl.

Opal looked different. Her bob hairstyle had become somewhat sleeker and straighter, with less stray whisps of hair breaking free. Of course, her outfit was completely changed from the dresses she had favoured back in Zaofu. And she was clearly older, even if only three years had passed. Her face had narrowed slightly, losing some of its childish roundness, and Kuvira could see some new solemn maturity in Opal’s demeanor. She hadn’t seen Opal ever since she’d left Zaofu outside of newspapers. Kuvira could not deny that it was pleasant to see her again.

Kuvira, not knowing what to say and not knowing how to not startle Opal, settled on gently clearing her throat.

Distractedly, Opal glanced up from her papers. Then the woman’s face lit up with a smile when she finally noticed who had entered.

“Kuvira!” Opal cried out, getting to her feet. She grinned, her solemness melting away and suddenly looking every bit the chipper sixteen-year-old Kuvira had said goodbye to three years ago. “I heard you were looking to speak to me and Bataar. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Kuvira half-lied, stepping forward. She wondered briefly if Opal had become a little taller.

Kuvira raised her arms, as though expecting an embrace. Opal did not disappoint, immediately stepping forward into Kuvira’s space and hugging her. Kuvira placed her hands on Opal’s back, feeling the soft cloth material beneath the bands of metal Opal had wrapped around her neck, shoulders, and upper arms. Yes, Opal had become taller, if only by an inch.

“I thought it would be nice to catch up.”

“Definitely,” Opal agreed, reluctantly pulling away and glancing up at Kuvira.

As though suddenly realizing how close they were, Opal quickly looked away and stepped back, almost blushing, and deferring to Kuvira as instinctively as she had when she had been a girl.

“Are you busy now?” Kuvira asked, angling her body to follow Opal.

“I’m always busy,” Opal laughed, stepping backwards and towards her desk. “But we’ve stopped now, so you and I can definitely chat before you have to go.”

If Opal was expecting Kuvira to leave soon, she would have to be exceptionally deft about asking to stay.

Opal’s expression drew taut, thinking. “In fact,” she deliberated. “You should stay for dinner, since the train won’t be leaving this town until morning.” She shrunk slightly, embarrassed. “Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

And here was the truth about Opal—she was so much more personable than her brother. She wasn’t well-practiced, or incredibly confident, but she was likeable, charming in how human she was. Kuvira had listened to her speeches on the radio over the years—how Opal could joke at her own expense, and then in the same minute start a passionate speech about uniting the Earth Nation into a safe, productive, and stable society. Her passion could be intimidating, but Opal was so earnest that most people couldn’t help but be endeared to her. She reminded everyone of their daughter, their sister, their schoolfriend. She reminded Kuvira of that shy, young metalbender from Zaofu.

Kuvira smiled at Opal, reaching out to touch Opal’s arm, just beneath the metal bands. She kept her touch brief, but firm.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now,” Kuvira promised.

Opal smiled, and when Kuvira let her hand fall she noticed Opal turn her body, reaching up to touch the spot that Kuvira had touched.

“I’ll get Chef to make us something,” Opal said. “Air nomads are vegetarian, right?”

Truth be told, Kuvira wished they weren’t. Travelling with Jinora, Kuvira couldn’t even consider getting a meal with meat without getting an evil eye for her troubles.

“Don’t change your plans on my account,” Kuvira insisted.

“It’s no trouble,” Opal insisted right back. “I like vegetarian food. Besides, you remember Chef. He makes all cuisine taste like the best cuisine.” Kuvira did not remember ‘Chef’, but she’d take Opal’s word for it.

Opal’s eyes were shining, utterly focused on Kuvira. Opal was so friendly that it was hard to know if this was special treatment. But Kuvira felt so utterly observed, like Opal was cherishing the opportunity to look at her again. She hoped Opal liked the airsuit—the colours didn’t suit Kuvira, but she knew it hugged her frame. And well, people seemed to like an air nomad uniform.

Kuvira cleared her throat again, for once genuinely not knowing what to say.

“Thanks for dropping in, Kuvira,” Opal spoke up. “Bataar will be happy to see you again.” And she wore a genuine smile, but Kuvira could spot the subtle tension, the slightest shadow of discomfort, to her gaze when she mentioned her brother.

Kuvira and Bataar had never dated, but Kuvira had always suspected he would have wanted to.

“Actually,” Opal deliberated, “I’ll go get him now—”

“No need,” Kuvira said quickly, figuring she should cut to the point of her visit. “I came to speak to you.”

Perhaps it was a clumsy move, telegraphing her intentions so early on, but she didn’t want to talk to Bataar. He was even more lovesick over Kuvira than Opal had been. She suspected he’d waste Kuvira’s time and then try to kiss her. Opal, on the other hand, was likely in charge of the operation and lacked the classic male arrogance that expected his attraction to be reciprocated.

And all that aside, Kuvira was actually interested in knowing how things had been for Opal these past few years.

“What?” Opal asked. She looked confused. “What for?” Then her expression went a little cool. “Ah. Not a social call, huh?” This was new—Opal was suspicious. But Kuvira could hardly fault her—Opal had reason to be, and responsibilities that demanded it of her even if she had no reasons at all.

“No, no,” Kuvira insisted, letting herself smile. “It is. I do want to catch up. Just … I’d rather do so with you.” There was no subtle, polite way of putting it, unless she wanted to play a more treacherous game with Bataar.

“You always loved Bataar’s architectural designs when you were younger,” Opal fretted. “He’s really the brains of most of this. I’m just the face.”

And what a face, Kuvira almost said. Kuvira was so easily forgetting how domineering Opal was of her people, her army. She was exactly like the girl Kuvira had known in Zaofu, sweet face, head in the clouds.

Kuvira wondered if she should lie to Opal, pretend that it had always been Opal Kuvira had been most interested in. But it wasn’t true. Kuvira had been more interested in Bataar’s designs, his idealism matching her own. She’d hoped to find some aptitude in engineering herself, but it had only been fun in theory and she’d lost interest in the subject and, to some extent, Bataar. And all that aside, Opal would be able to tell that Kuvira was lying.

She also didn’t believe Opal when she said that she was just the face of what she and her brother were doing. Opal knew what was happening, and knowing Bataar and Opal—she likely also had the final say.

“Frankly, I think … you’d tell the story of your journey better than Bataar,” Kuvira offered.

Opal laughed at that, startled.

“I mean,” she agreed, “I won’t talk about engineering for half an hour, true. I can tell you what we’ve actually accomplished outside of what we’ve built.”

“Exactly,” Kuvira said, feeling cool satisfaction unwind in her chest.

“And a lot of that information is confidential anyway,” Opal said, voice taking on a scolding tone, as though remembering that she’d need to warn Bataar not to get too friendly with Kuvira.

And even then, Opal turned back to her desk and stacked all her documents together, sweeping them into a drawer which she then locked with a twist of her wrist. Only a metalbender would be able to open such a drawer.

Opal really thought Kuvira might be a spy. Which, fair enough, Kuvira was in most ways. Kuvira still couldn’t tell whether she should feel offended or impressed.

“I’m not asking you to divulge top military secrets,” Kuvira said, rolling her eyes like Opal was being ridiculous, unreasonable. Kuvira was clearly not going to get the answers she needed today. “Just tell me what you’ve been up to these past few years.”

Opal grinned at that, easy as anything.

Opal led Kuvira through a tour of the train while explaining to her how they were delivering goods to the town as well as the logistics that lay behind it all.

It was interesting, but professional, rehearsed—not in the way that Kuvira felt like Opal was lying, but in the way that Opal had no doubt explained the situation many times to many different people, Kuvira just one person among many.

Opal’s explanations were polished, but she seemed rather proud of herself, which was endearing. And well-earned. It was impressive. To raise this entire train from an image in Bataar’s mind to a reality—Kuvira wished she could have done something like this these past few years instead of developing a minor allergy to air bison fur.

But, at the same time, Kuvira was glad to see the minutes pass and the tour come to an end, after which they returned to the main office. The office was more interesting to Kuvira than how grain and produce was stored, how the army’s quarters were organized, and Opal’s attempts at explaining how the glass windows were constructed.

Of course, there was a trade off. Bataar was there.

He blinked behind his glasses—he was surprised to see her.

“Kuvira!” he cried out, standing and moving from behind the table he had been sat at. Kuvira seemed to have a similar impact on both him and his sister.

“Hello Bataar,” she greeted, trying to sound warm but only polite.

“I told the guards to let you in,” he said. “And then—I couldn’t find you. I assumed you had left.”

“I was just giving her the tour,” Opal grinned.

Bataar walked over and Kuvira couldn’t deny him a brief hug. She didn’t let it linger, though.

“What brings you here?” Bataar asked.

“Just passing through on air nomad business.” It wasn’t wholly a lie. “I was curious to find what you two have been up to, these past few years.”

Bataar was all too willing to explain.

They settled down for dinner, and in more detail Bataar recounted the construction of the train—how they had pieced it together plate by metal plate, working with both the Earth Army and contracted townspeople to build the tracks. Both Bataar and his sister avoided specificity of how they dealt with towns much more beyond the charity work.

It was a relief to find that Bataar wasn’t as clingy as Kuvira feared he would be.

He sat across from Kuvira while Kuvira sat by Opal’s side, utterly content to explain all of the details of the marvel of technology he had led the charge in developing. Apparently, he was in communication with a nonbending engineer from Republic City for further expansion of his plans—but he didn’t dip into too much explanation which Kuvira was thankful for.

Feeling a little bored, and to bait the waters, Kuvira leaned her thigh against Opal’s, pretending not to notice, like she had no sensation in her leg. Opal’s warm thigh tensed where it was leaned against Kuvira’s, and the indulgent expression she’d been giving her brother froze on her face. But then Opal pulled away, as though deliberating that Kuvira must have made some mistake. There was an undeniable flush blooming on the very crest of her cheeks though.

The food was probably the best vegetarian food Kuvira had ever eaten. Not because Jinora didn’t have good taste—growing up as a rich kid in Republic City didn’t leave Jinora with low standards—but this was still clearly superior.

Bataar insisted the ingredients were the same food as the Earth Kingdom army handed out to the towns, but there was something about the mixture of spices and acidity, the barest hint of sweetness and some unnamed fermentation. It was a sort of peanut-flavoured noodle dish with cabbage and carrots and vegetables Kuvira couldn’t even recognize—and it was incredibly flavourful, salty on Kuvira’s tongue and hot in her throat. The sauce clung to her mouth, burning her lips. Opal’s lips also looked a little redder at the edges, no doubt tingling from the heat just as Kuvira’s were. The food served at Jinora’s favourite restaurant in Republic City had been good. This was so much better.

“The maglev, of course, has only paid off,” Bataar was saying. “Nearly exponentially, I’d say. New recruits, new resources, new legitimacy even.”

“It was probably the most important investment we’ve ever made,” Opal admitted. “The greatest risk.”

“It’s all incredibly impressive,” Kuvira admitted, to both Bataar and Opal equally, finding the lull in the conversation.

Opal and Bataar both looked pleased for the praise. It probably felt different coming from someone who had grown up in Zaofu. Kuvira couldn’t imagine they had many fans back there.

“I can’t help but wonder how the two of you made this transition—from Zaofu to … this.” Kuvira gestured vaguely. She didn’t even entirely understand what this entailed. “Being the Great Uniters.”

Opal went quiet but Bataar was quieter.

Kuvira wondered if she had made a mistake. But she had figured this was the natural progression of the conversation. Opal seemed to agree, relenting.

“Well, after we left Zaofu, we just tried to help,” Opal began softly. “We went to Ba Sing Se, where anarchy was raging after the Queen’s assassination, and tried to get it under control.”

“And we did,” Bataar interjected.

“People rewarded us with trust. Loyalty.” It was clear that Opal valued those things. “We … we wanted to live up to that.”

“After we saw that we could make a positive change,” Bataar added, “we didn’t want to stop.”

“I bet Su loved that,” Kuvira observed.

Opal grinned at that, wickedly delighted. Bataar also smirked.

“She’s …” Opal trailed off then, expression growing more serious. “She’s worried about us. Both of us. I’m—I’m the baby girl and Bataar is …”

“Not a metalbender,” Bataar said simply. “Mother never thought I’d amount to anything outside of Zaofu.”

“Oh, come on,” Opal said softly, aside to her brother. “You know that’s not true.”

“She thought I would just take over wherever father left off,” Bataar said. “She assumed you would just one day take her place. And now she resents us for not living according to her expectations.”

“That’s not true,” Opal said again, but she didn’t make any genuine arguments to the contrary. “She’s just … worried.”

“Overbearing,” Bataar corrected derisively. “And it’s misguided.”

“Yes, it’s misguided,” Opal agreed with her brother, gently. She reached across the table and put her hand on his wrist. Her hands were remarkably small. They spoke to one another like Kuvira wasn’t in the same room with them.

Kuvira wanted to ask Opal and Bataar about how they hadn’t stepped down for Prince Wu—about what that meant. About how Suyin felt about it, if that’s what got them to speak honestly. But she also didn’t want to press her luck. This was already more openness than Kuvira had expected, judging by how paranoid Opal and Bataar seemed to be.

Instead, Kuvira just cleared her throat softly, as though the spice had irritated her craw.

Opal looked over at her, blinking. Like Kuvira had startled the moment like a water strider skimming over still water.

“This meal was … delicious,” Kuvira said quietly.

Opal accepted the change in topic, beaming. “I’ll pass the compliments on to Chef,” she promised.

Kuvira had finally recognized him when she saw him serving dinner. He had never prepared a meal for Kuvira except for when Suyin had invited Kuvira over, but doubtlessly he’d prepared Opal and Bataar meals their entire lives. It was stunning and hilarious that Opal had left Suyin and Zaofu with her son and her chef in tow.

Kuvira smiled at Opal, who busied herself with her plate instead of holding Kuvira’s gaze.

“Do you have a place for the night?” Bataar asked, eying the setting sun outside through the window—double-paned glass, apparently—facing west.

Kuvira set down her cutlery. She was nowhere close to getting the answers she wanted about Opal and Bataar’s movements or intentions.

“No,” Kuvira admitted. She could probably find Jinora in town, but she didn’t particularly want to.

“We have spare rooms,” Opal said, gesturing to the sliding door behind Kuvira. “You’re welcome to stay the night.”

And then, it struck Kuvira—what had been percolating in the back of her mind ever since she set foot in Gaipan and observed the knifepoint structure of the maglev.

“And if I wanted to stay for longer than a night?” Kuvira asked.

Opal blinked, uncomprehending. Even Bataar was blank faced.

“What if … I want to join you,” Kuvira said, and she found that it wasn’t a lie. It was actually more honest than what she had told Korra. Still, Opal and Bataar said nothing. “If you’ll have me.”

She laughed shortly. “Your speech worked—Opal—you have me won.”

“You can’t join us, you’re an air nomad,” Opal replied at last, snapping from her stunned state. “Nomads aren’t allowed to pick sides in conflicts.”

That wasn’t entirely true—nomads were meant to be non-violent, but they were an organization, and by default were political. Besides, Jinora and Avatar Korra were more than willing to use Kuvira for their ends.

“I may be an airbender, but I’m always going to be an Earth Nation citizen,” Kuvira shrugged. “They conscripted me. And, if this is a problem, what would the non-violent air nomads do—arrest me?”

Opal looked over at Bataar. She obviously hadn’t been expecting this.

“Listening to you today I realized … I’m sick of just, helping individuals when there’s bigger problems at play,” Kuvira hissed, realizing as she spoke that she was telling the truth. She never could have said this to Jinora, not in so few words, not with this much frustration.

“I bring people loaves of bread and bags of rice and I come back a month later and people are still needy, people are still starving. I want to be part of real change—with you and your brother. I want to help the Earth Nation. Opal—please let me.”

Kuvira glanced over at Bataar, knowing he would help her. “Bataar.”

“I mean, it may look good to have an air nomad’s support,” Bataar said quietly. “Even if they disavow her. Having an airbender, in addition to two nonbenders, it may make us look more progressive. That you’re truly representing the entire Earth Kingdom’s interests, not just metalbenders.”

Opal considered, looking conflicted.

“It’s not that, I just don’t think there’s any place for you to help us here,” Opal said. Her voice was small, soft and considering. “We don’t really have anything for you to do here.” Kuvira was so close.

“I’ll make myself useful,” Kuvira said, half-desperate. “I’ll push papers. I’ll help your chef with prep work.” She’d find something to do, she’d make a position for herself.

Suddenly and intensely she did not want to leave this train. She wanted to understand what Opal and Bataar were doing here, and if she could help people by working alongside the Earth Kingdom army instead of the nomads, she’d do it.

“You know I’m excellent in a fight, even without bending,” Kuvira said. “If there are supplies to hand out, I can do that.”

She reached out, considering placing her hand on Opal’s shoulder but deciding the moment before she moved to place her palm carefully on top of Opal’s knee. Bataar wouldn’t see, but Opal would feel her touch beneath the table.

“I can worry about the nomads,” Kuvira insisted. “You won’t even have to pay me. Just give me a spare room. I can pay for my food, if you’d like.” She didn’t have money, but she’d find a way.

“Kuvira—”

“I just feel I can help here in a way I can’t with the nomads,” Kuvira burst in, frustrated. “Please let me help. I’m at your disposal.”

Opal had become a little flushed at Kuvira’s passion, or her proximity.

“You should’ve been a speech writer,” Opal laughed. It was spoken like a confession. Kuvira could see Opal starting to soften and surrender, like snow beneath the first sunrays of spring.

Opal glanced over at Bataar, and Kuvira followed her eyeline. Bataar smiled at his sister, approving. Thank fuck.

Then Opal smiled at Kuvira, a small, sweet smile so out of place on a military leader’s face.

“Welcome aboard Kuvira, I guess.”

When Opal reached down to gently pull Kuvira’s hand away from her thigh, Kuvira could feel her fingers tremble.

#opalviraweek #opal beifong #kuvira #opal #opira #opira art #kuvopal #opalvira

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