Calculated Loyalty

"Brothers, sisters, compatriots, and all who have struggled and fought for years to bring stability to our nation – today's achievements did not come easily. I hereby declare that from this day forward, the Earth Empire enters a phase of consolidating the fruits of our revolution."  

Before Kuvira could finish speaking, uproar erupted from the crowd.  

This was the first public address since her awakening. The audience comprised not only high-ranking officials and military personnel but also citizens from across the Earth Empire. These opening lines essentially signaled that for the coming years – at least publicly – the Empire would cease actions against Republic City or other states, focusing instead on resolving internal conflicts.  

For ordinary citizens and most military representatives, this news brought relief after years of relentless warfare. But for hardliners like Commander Guan, it amounted to "cowardice" – an admission of the Empire's inability to subdue Republic City.  

Watching Guan's deepening scowl, you strode toward him. The measured tread of your boots announced your movement without aggression. Positioning yourself beside him with crossed arms, you noted how his back stiffened. Rumors of your nonbending assassinations against Daili's operatives – true or not – made even seasoned warriors wary.  

Guan swallowed his dissent.  

"In our pursuit of reunification, we neglected our people's aspirations and daily needs. For this, I offer sincere apologies. Over the next decade, the Earth Empire will prioritize economic development, agricultural advancement, tax reductions, and improved living standards. Internationally, we will pursue trade and economic cooperation for mutual benefit. Rest assured, no diplomatic agreements will compromise our people's welfare..."  

You gazed up at Kuvira – ramrod straight, radiating the unyielding charisma of a pine defying tempests. This was the leader you cherished, far removed from the frail figure confined to sickbeds.  

The six-hour assembly concluded with Guan storming into the presidential office. Though overhearing heated arguments, you refrained from intervening. If Kuvira couldn't handle this, she wouldn't be Kuvira.  

"I said we must consolidate our gains and resolve internal conflicts!"  

"Bullshit! Republic City's weakened – one more strike and they'll crumble! You've grown timid since the Avatar beat you!"  

"Fool! Even ignoring the Avatar's ability to withstand spirit vine weaponry, where would you get campaign funds? Increased taxes? You can't wage war on empty coffers!"  

Their clash escalated behind closed doors.  

"So we abandon Republic City? You've gone soft, Kuvira."  

"Never. Reunification continues through methods our people will accept." This was evolution, not weakness. The old Kuvira would've sent dissenters to re-education camps rather than debate.  

Guan's war-hungry fanaticism surpassed even her former self.  

"Resign if you disagree. Many could fill your position."  

The naked threat worked. Guan retreated to his territory, fuming.  

International reactions exploded overnight. Media speculated while leaders watched warily, yet all hoped for genuine reform. The Empire's renowned metallurgy became your diplomatic weapon.  

After consulting Kuvira, you launched a technology exchange program in Zaofu. Initially, only vassal states sent token delegates. As trust grew, nations flocked – particularly firebender engineers from the energy-starved Fire Nation.  

Your presence startled students. "Just checking your accommodations," you smiled disarmingly, though none missed your uniform's authority.  

"Let's speak frankly," you told their instructor privately. "We seek energy sector collaboration. Our underground reserves could fuel your reactors."  

"I'm just a teacher..."  

"Simply convey our proposal to Fire Lord Izumi. Buried resources benefit no one." You patted her shoulder. "Our peace initiatives are genuine."  

Shared technologies impressed visitors, though core secrets remained guarded.  

That night, footsteps drew you into moonlit corridors. Kuvira stood disheveled – uniform wrinkled, strands escaping her usual tight bun. Olive eyes gleamed coldly under moonlight.  

Mimicking her stance a forearm's length away, you pretended the wind carried her warmth accidentally. Silence stretched – her gaze on the moon, yours on her. When gusts swept her hair toward you, jealousy clawed your throat. *Why should wind embrace her freely?*  

"Cold?" She draped her cloak over you before you answered. Juniper scent and residual body heat engulfed your senses.  

"Th-thanks." Words failed under her scrutiny.  

Her chuckle held unfamiliar warmth. "The silver-tongued strategist, tongue-tied as that stray pup I first recruited."  

*A rabid dog,* you nearly confessed, face half-hidden in sleeves yet eyes devouring her.  

She shifted closer, gloved hand brushing your back – perhaps still comforting the orphan she'd mentored. You leaned into the touch regardless.  

Hours later, emboldened by darkness, you tucked a loose strand behind her ear.  

She permitted the intimacy.  

"Rest early," you rasped, retreating. "You're not fully recovered."  

Back in your quarters, her cloak remained – juniper lingering like unspoken truths.