Utterpok

by maizula

Summary:

Aang isn’t born the avatar; his best friend is. Then she dies in a storm, sparing him. This would be all right, except two deaths later, the avatar spirit is reincarnated into someone much, much worse: Princess Azula.

To say Prince Zuko's day gets worse when he finds this out is an understatement. The Gaang concurs.

 

or: the ensemble cast avatar azula au that deconstructs the carcass that was atla

ft. kidnapping princesses, forced redemption arcs, repeatedly attempted fratricide, found family that's also forced family, and more worldbuilding than atla could ever dream of

(Currently on Book Two: Water)

Chapter 1: The Avatar (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this is the ONLY long note in the fic so sorry abt this. thank you for your patience and your desire to read this.

i have spent months researching to try to unblend the cultures of atla’s countries as much as i can w/o writing a totally different series. i have not been entirely successful due to the nature of the show, but i am basing the fn (now the empire of fire) off of imperial japan, the water tribes (now the water people, but they will be called the water tribe by people who haven't learned the racism behind the term tribe yet or don't care) off of the inuit in inuit nunangat (yes, both of them; it’ll make sense with the backstory), the air nomads (now a multiethic nomadic people, but we only see two of these ethnic groups in this fic) off of nomadic buddhist tibetan monks and nomadic hindu indians + buddhist indians, the ek (now the three kingdoms of earth, the great/warring earth states, and đất nam) off of the three kingdoms of korea, warring states period china, and colonized vietnam respectively, and the sun warriors off of the ryukyuan/okinawan. there is some anachronism, but there is a set time period we’re in. i’ve also de-westernized large elements of the show which may be confusing at first. if anything i incorporate about s and sea cultures or religions is offensive, you are more than welcome to tell me so i can correct it. this fic does deal heavily with racism, xenophobia, and jingoism, so often these things presented are intentional

as a result, a lot of lore and worldbuilding and backstory has changed. bear with me through any confusion. i am trying to make this as clear as possible, but things may unravel themselves in due time instead of immediately. i am happy to clarify non-spoiler-y confusion in the comments.

every character presented is presented with nuance. even ones you don't like.

maizula, zukka, and kataang are our endgame ships. they are not the primary focus of this story, and they will take a while to actualize (especially zukka) with some detours along the way to them, but they are fixtures of this overall fic. i’m trying to work them into things better than canon atla allows since bryke are bad at romance, but if you think you’ll really hate them, you might want to move along. on that note, zuko and mai will both take a while to appear in this chapter, but i promise they’re very prominent characters in this fic. this chapter is just more azula, aang, katara, and sokka focused.

any content warnings that are not in the additional tags will be added in the end notes of chapters they first appear in to help avoid spoilers for people who don’t want them. i do not shy away from the violence of imperialism in this fic and base that violence largely on the real life crimes committed by imperial japan against other countries, including the existence of comfort women and human experimentation. in addition, csa and incest will become prominent parts of the narrative later on, and the warning tags will update to reflect that.

“To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.” 

― Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

---

Before the Imperial Year 2396, the avatar was a master of all elements who brought balance to the world of the airbenders, waterbenders, earthbenders, and firebenders. However, this balance was shattered on the ninth day of the Long Month when Fire Emperor Sozin offered the Air Nation the chance to share in the Great Empire of Fire's opulence, and the young airbender avatar betrayed him, leading an assault against his men. The firebenders had no choice but to defend themselves.

In the Imperial Year 2495, the avatar had not been seen reincarnated since. But this wasn’t about old spirit tales or the Heavenly War of Tranquility; this was a story about a girl born with lightning pressed between her ribs and fire blossoming in her veins.

This was the legend of Princess Azula of the Imperial House of Fire.

Eighty-five years following the Battles at the Air Temples, the princess was born to the same dynasty as her great-great-grandfather, Fire Emperor Sozin, and the Fire Emperors who preceded him during the summer solstice. Though her mother, Princess Ursa, screamed endlessly, red-faced and tear-stained, throughout the duration of the labor, from above, the sun goddess, Amaterasu, smiled down at the newborn.

Four months shy of fourteen years following that solstice, Azula stood before her father, Fire Emperor Ozai, and the Fire Sages in the Imperial Palace, and she wielded lightning as a blade.

Her ki was split into perfect halves, sliced through so as to hollow her out like fruit. With her energy at a perfect calm, electricity flared easily through her, directed by the seamless flow of her movements. Azula knew this lightningbending kata as she knew the beating of her heart. All that mattered was the way her body seemed to float at this moment and the next. Even when she was covered in the leather plates and solid gold of her armor, it looked effortless as she kicked and arched and struck with all the strength of a lion vulture.

The display of bright blue bursting forth from her fingertips was not new to Azula or anyone who had seen her firebend. While her flames looked quite different from the jagged bolts of lightning she controlled, they had turned blue when she was ten years old. Though there were myths and legends, Azula was the first bearer of the blue flames to ever be recorded in history. It was for this reason—this prodigy that she performed the advanced firebending and lightningbending kata before the Fire Sages and her father on this National Foundation Day.

Dead center, Azula came to a halt. She sunk to her knees in a bow, pressing her chest to the tops of her thighs, and slid her palms to the floor in front of her. She awaited her father’s decision.

The Fire Sages applauded. Azula did not rise or so much as tilt her head. Her dragon’s topknot was weighing heavily under the golden diadem it balanced. She could feel something pressed to her sweat-coated forehead, but she would not chance moving to unstick it. She hated that she had broken a sweat at all. Fifteen degrees of performing nonstop kata would do that to anyone, though.

“What do you think, Divine Sages?” her father asked from the ornate Dragon Throne. His voice was reserved but not displeased. Azula could not be sure yet that it was a good sign. Reading her father was an art form she considered herself quite skilled at, but it was not a perfect science, and she had sat next to him during the ceremony but had not spoken more than formalities with him until she had arrived for her presentation before the Fire Sages at two-hundred-thirty-five degrees of the sun.

A venerable man dressed in the white silk of the traditional hunting robes and the black cap donned at religious affairs spoke up. Azula knew him to be the highest ranking of the Fire Sages and the man her closest friend was named for: Nakatomi Meiji, his name was. “Your Heavenly Sovereign, the princess has shown great mastery of advanced firebending techniques, including the cold flame. It is my belief that she is ready to debut as a Master Firebender to our great empire.”

Her father hummed pleasantly. Agreeably.

Azula felt her body relax once more as it had during her performance when she had split her ki.

“And you, Ane-ue?” His golden eyes fixed upon Azula’s personal tutors, Lo and Li.

Anxiety bubbled in the pit of Azula’s stomach. As withered as they were, Lo and Li’s approval meant far more to her than that of the Fire Sages. Even if it was only in fractions, they were her blood. They had been the ones to teach her these kata, demonstrating them for Azula with the kind of perfect precision that only came with decades of training. If they were proud of her, surely he would be too.

The twins were quiet for a painstaking moment as they examined Azula’s still form. She slowed her breathing and tried to straighten her spine further under their piercing gazes.

“Almost perfect,” Lo said.

“One hair out of place,” Li said.

“You’ll have to work on it more, Meigo-kun,” they said together.

Were she not in the presence of her father, Azula would have crumpled, her face twisted into something awful. She was a failure, no better than her exiled brother, Zuko. Her inner flame was heating dangerously as contempt pooled within every part of her, even her bones. She hated herself at that moment. Azula blinked harshly, squeezing her eyelids tightly shut in brief intervals.

He sighed. She could feel the oppressive weight of its disappointment. It was her burden to bear. She had ruined his mood with her own imperfection. “Forgive me for wasting your time, Divine Sages. It’s too soon to declare my daughter a Master Firebender. You may return to Tokushima,” he said. His golden eyes flicked over to her once more. “Azula, rise.”

She obeyed.

“You are dismissed.”

With one final bow, Azula said, “Of course, Chichi-ue. My apologies for wasting your time and that of the Fire Sages.”

“Your transgression is forgiven,” he said dismissively. A lie. He never forgave a slight.

Azula bit down a flinch as she turned to exit the Dragon Throne Room. She heard the sound of footsteps behind her and knew that Lo and Li were trailing after her, no doubt aware she was headed back for her favorite of the Imperial Training Grounds. They were like spies sometimes. Always reporting back to her father about Azula’s successes and failures. The thought made Azula’s inner flame burn brighter, harsher. She thought that it might burn her down if she didn’t control it quickly. She wasn’t used to anger. Not like this.

“Princess Azula, please wait!” an unfamiliar voice called.

Azula paused to look back.

One of the Fire Sages was in the space she had expected Lo and Li to occupy. Azula recognized the sharp shape of his eyes and the slope of his nose—they were features she had seen many times on Nakatomi Mai’s face. She thought he must be the firstborn son of Mai’s grandfather, but he seemed childlike as his robes threatened to swallow him whole.

“Yes, Divine Sage?” she asked expectantly.

“May I speak with you privately, Your Imperial Highness?” he asked.

Azula blinked. “I’m afraid I must return to my training to correct my… mistake,” she said. The last word felt like a stain on her tongue, but she could not spit it out. Not here.

His face fell. He looked even younger now. “I understand,” he said. “Perhaps later…”

“Perhaps,” she said shortly. With that, she turned and left.

There was a dizzying sound of something boiling over in her head as she walked through the halls of the Imperial Palace. She heard nothing else as the length of her nails bit into her palms and her shoulders tremored. She had failed, and she had displeased both her father and her aunts. That Fire Sage had doubtlessly wanted to coddle her about her failures.

Though it was sacrilegious, Azula would imagine his face on the targets as she practiced her lightningbending. The thought made her painted lips twitch upward, but the anger carried in her belly and in her bones did not dissipate.

Finally, she reached her favorite Imperial Training Ground. She took the proper stance, and her arms moved automatically. Azula emptied her head and split her ki once more. There was nothing but the electric hum of her heart and the face of that man-child to direct it toward.

Not until there were hands stroking her hair, letting her dragon’s topknot down to comb through it, petting the tension out from between her armor-clad shoulder blades. Azula’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into the tenderness of her aunts for just a moment.

And then her golden eyes—so like her father’s—snapped open. They were impossibly lurid.

Sun-worn and fire-loved hands were pulled away from her. Though Azula would not admit it, their absence left behind phantom pains in their place.

“Don’t mother me,” she snarled. “I’m not some pathetic little girl to be consoled. I’ll be fourteen on the solstice, and within a year of that, I’ll have my genpuku, Lo-oba-sama and Li-oba-sama.”

“Of course,” Lo said.

“And what a marvelous woman you are growing up to be,” Li said.

Though Azula would not officially be the crown princess until her fifteenth birthday, and Zuko could technically re-enter the line of succession at any point in time, together they said, “Yūshi, you will be an excellent Fire Empress.”

Their kindness was far from insincere. It was almost treasonous in its nature, claiming her for themselves instead of for her father. The knowledge calmed Azula more than it should have, but that was not enough. There were still needles in her, prickling all over.

With her electric heart thrumming in her chest, she ran through the kata again.

---

The sun was below the horizon in the South Pole It was always below the horizon during Avunniti. When Katara had been younger and had not understood the seasons of the world around her, she had asked her grandma, Kanna, once if the sun was grieving the miscarriages of the tiger seals. She was older now, though, and she had long since come to understand that the sun stayed below the horizon for more than just Avunniti. She understood a lot of things about the world at thirteen that had escaped her in her fourth year.

Katara understood now, for example, why her people had come to the South Pole, what soot in the snow meant, why the Empire of Fire had killed her mother, Kya, and that someone they called the kamioroshi was the only person who could restore balance to this world. Katara had asked her grandma once what this descent of the gods was, and her grandma had told her that she could not recall the Imiqtitut word for it. That didn’t mean she had told Katara nothing, though. The utterpok, her grandma had called them, was a master of all four elements who had lived many lives and been tasked with bringing balance and harmony to the world in each of them. They had not been seen since the Empire of Fire attacked the Air Nomads almost a hundred years ago, and it was in search of this and other survivors of the Air Nomad genocide that her people had left the North Pole, for they always came back.

Katara’s brother, Sokka, had lost faith years ago, but Katara had held onto it, even after Kya had been murdered in Katara’s place during the last raid of the Southern Water People. In some ways, she had clutched that faith closer to her chest following the raid. The utterpok couldn’t give her mother or her culture back to her, but they could end the war. Her father, Hakoda, would come home then, and Sokka would breathe easier for it, no longer carrying the mantle of a man when he was but a boy.

With all the grief of her people lining her stomach like stones, Katara settled into the umiak with her brother. They were hunting today. The men of their village, Amarok Akuq, had left by ship a dozen full moons prior in one last effort to contact the Northern Water People they were descended from for aid in rebuilding their community and recovering the parts of their culture that the Empire of Fire had cremated. Katara and Sokka were only thirteen and fifteen respectively, but they were among the oldest of the surviving children in Amarok Akuq, and so they had taken the responsibility of hunting until the men returned from their mission.

Her grandma was the last of their elders, and many of their people, women and children alike, had fallen ill over the past year. Katara’s eyes stung at the thought. She could not end the war, but she could at least provide this for her people.

“Are you ready?” Sokka asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” she said.

“Let’s go then.”

And then they were off.

---

The boy in the iceberg didn’t know that the world had been so dark until the light of the stars adorning the sky showed itself to him. He didn’t know that he had been cold until he felt the warmth of a tiger sealskin mitt poke at the gooseflesh of his arm. He didn’t know he had been encased in ice until it split open, and he came tumbling out of it. He blinked as his vision returned to him.

There was a girl with a face like the sun staring at him. He averted his gaze before stealing a second glance up at her. Something caught in his throat. She was blinding to take in. Sections of her hair were worn in what he thought he recognized as qilliqti and her wide eyes were a stark blue—she was a waterbender, or at least part of the Water People. Was he in the north? He could hardly remember what had happened, but he was sure it had been terrible, and he must have been traveling.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked. “Here, take my parka.”

He opened his mouth silently to politely decline, but he couldn’t remember the words for it. Had it been that long since he’d seen his friend, Nanurjuk? Before he could recall, she had the brown outer layer of her hunting parka wrapped around him, leaving her with only the inner layer of it.

“He doesn’t speak Imiqtitut, Katara,” a boy he hadn’t noticed said. He was a bit taller than the girl, but there was a slight resemblance between them in the shape of their mouths and the height of their cheekbones. They looked like they might be family. He pulled off the outer layer of his parka to hand to her—to Katara.

Never before had he wanted to know the weight of someone else’s name in his own mouth like this. The thought made his face warm and his head dizzy. “No, I do! I just… um… is there anything else you speak? Sorry…”

Katara frowned. “We can speak Higo.”

The other boy’s face darkened too.

He couldn’t understand why they’d be upset about that, but he switched to Higo nonetheless. “My Higo is excellent! I mean, I can understand Imiqtitut just fine, so feel free to keep speaking it. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you both,” he said. He couldn’t remember the customs of the Water People when it came to introductions, and he hoped he wasn’t being rude. “I’m—” he paused. Nanurjuk had always struggled with the name Lobsang. Perhaps it was better to use his nickname with Katara and this boy. “My friends call me Aang.” He clasped his hands, tucking his thumbs in, and bowed in greeting.

“I’m Katara, and this is my brother, Sokka,” she said. Her frown was gone now. She was really staring at him.

He fidgeted with his hands.

“So, uh… is there a reason you were in an ice cube?” Sokka asked.

Aang furrowed his brow for a moment. He surveyed the scene around them. There had been a reason. He wasn’t away from the Southern Air Temple without a purpose.

He jolted toward the remains of the iceberg, searching desperately.

“Did you lose something?” Katara asked.

“Not something—someone! I was traveling with my best friend on Appa. We were going to Ember Island for a vacation,” he said hurriedly. He couldn’t see Katara or Sokka’s faces, but they seemed to go silent at that.

After a moment, Sokka cleared his throat. “Ember Island?” he asked skeptically.

Aang turned back to them both to nod. “Yeah! The resort island!”

There was even less comprehension on Sokka’s face now, and Katara’s expression had grown cautious. “So… where is this Ember Island?” she asked.

“Huh? It’s in the Empire of Fire, of course! You know that, right? It’s really famous, I swear. They do all the kabuki shows! What’s its real name… oh! Hinokuchi!” Satisfied with himself, Aang returned to his search.

“The Empire of Fire?” Sokka’s brown eyes were huge.

“You’re sure?” Katara asked, much more gently.

He nodded, hoping this line of questioning was over. He liked Katara, and Sokka seemed nice enough, but he didn’t have time for their confusion right now. He had to find Nyima. If he had been frozen, surely she had too. They’d been huddling together on Appa when—when the storm had hit. He froze. “How long ago was the storm?”

“The storm? Well, there were some during Naliqqaittuq—sorry, last month,” Sokka said.

A month. Aang had been in there for a month. Nyima could be anywhere by now. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes welled up with tears. This was his fault. He had suggested they get away from things for a little while. Nyima could be dead by now. It was a miracle he wasn’t dead, and people only witnessed so many miracles in one lifetime. He buried his face in his hands.

“Aang, what’s wrong?” Katara asked, her hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades.

“She’s gone,” he said, a broken whisper. “I lost her.”

The silence stretched out between them as Katara’s hand rubbed soft, soothing circles into his back. It was broken by the shuffling of feet on the ice and then a scream.

“Sokka!?” Katara yelled, her hand stilling.

Aang lifted his head to see that the boy in question was missing. Before he could open his mouth to call out for Sokka, there was a low roar—“Appa?”

“It has a name?” Sokka yelped.

Aang and Katara rushed to the other side of the remains of the iceberg where Sokka was wide-eyed and panicked. Aang looked down and nestled between walls of ice that floated low in the water sat Appa, Nyima’s sky bison. A large grin broke out across his face so suddenly and so overwhelmingly that his tear-stained cheeks hurt, but he was too relieved to care. He hopped down lower to get a better look. “Hey, boy, where’s our girl?”

Appa made a mangled sound.

Aang glanced around the flying bison. “You’re not sitting on her, are you?” he tried to joke.

“Aang…” Katara said cautiously, “I think—I think you should come to our village with us. To make sure you’re all right.”

He looked up at her and her brother, his eyes wide and wet. “I don’t know. She’d look for me if I was lost.”

Something in Sokka’s face broke. Brown eyes looked down at the black water below them all, and his shoulders tensed. “We’ll come back,” he said. “After you eat and rest, we’ll bring you back out here.”

“We’ll help you look for her!” Katara said.

They didn’t understand that there was a gaping hole in his chest. They didn’t understand that he needed Nyima to be safe and here and by his side. He looked around desperately at the expanse of sea and ice that stretched out forever.

Slowly, he got up. “You promise we’ll come back?” he asked. His eyes had never hurt so much.

“I promise,” she said, offering him her hand from above.

He stared at it for a long while. Finally, he took it. “We should bring Appa with us, too. The big guy gets hungry.” He was trying to sound brave, but he wasn’t sure he was succeeding.

Sokka and Katara exchanged a glance.

“Of course.”

---

Azula sent another bolt of lightning through the head of a target. She sharpened her eyes and adjusted her stance once more. Now that it was loose, her hair was sticking to the sweaty skin of her forehead even worse. Her sable hair was long enough that she felt her status and honor could not be questioned even if she left it down completely. Lo and Li had offered to tie it into a phoenix-tail for her, but she had refused. Azula was not opposed to the idea of her aunts styling her hair for her, but she was not a woman yet and would not wear her hair like one. They couldn’t make her. She had dismissed them for trying.

“Good afternoon, Azula.”

She hadn’t realized she had company. Certainly not company that was so familiar with her as to forgo her royal title. “What are you doing here?” she asked curtly. She felt disgusting, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone.

He blinked at her. “We have a date. You forgot again?”

Her eyebrow arched in challenge. She couldn’t recall having agreed to a date, but she also couldn’t recall having agreed to their betrothal contract. 

And yet.

“Your hair—” he reached out to push the sweat-soaked hair behind her ear.

She flared her nostrils but did not smack his hand away from her. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

His face soured, and he pulled away from her. “Walk with me at least?”

Azula did not deny him, but she took the lead as she led them out of the Imperial Training Grounds and to the nearby Imperial Koi Pond. They walked in silence. It was almost peaceful. Her mood was too foul and he was too close by for her to enjoy it at all, though.

Still, when they arrived, she watched the koi fish intently. They were splotched red and white like parchment stained with death-intentioned ink, and they wiggled through the water. There was one that Azula could spot whose whole body was white save for the round splotch of red atop its head. As a small child, that had been her favorite of the koi fish. She had never told anyone other than her two closest friends, but she had named it Ten. It was a stupid name in hindsight. She couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t used her upper-echelon education to name the fish something better than dot.

“Did the presentation go poorly?” he asked. At the sound of his voice, Ten swam under the wooden bridge they stood upon.

Azula’s nails bit into her palms once more. “Is my form so poor that you think me inadequate?” She was feeling hostile to say the least.

His jaw tensed in her peripheral vision. “You know that’s not why I asked.” The ornate silk of his clothing billowed in the wind.

Her armor lay flat and still against her as she glared up at him. “Oh? Then do tell, Chan,” she said. Her voice was venom-laced, her face iron.

“You still haven’t dropped that? You’ll have to when we’re wed. I won’t have a surname for you to call me by when I’m your Fire Emperor Consort. Eventually, you’ll have to call me Asahi.”

Azula twisted her face into something mocking and cold and said, “I’ll burn that bridge once I’ve crossed it, Ieyasu-chan.” She had attended his genpuku the winter before last, and she had seen him be declared a man and be blessed with the personal name Asahi to supersede his childhood one, but she had also known him as a young boy, huffing in anger as she beat him in a race and whining about wanting to see the secret passages of the Imperial Palace.

Asahi was not that boy any longer, but she would always hold him to who Ieyasu had been.

It was entirely unfair, and that was why she did it.

“You should stop acting like you’ll be marrying the scum on your tabi boots,” he said.

“Why? Is that not what my pathetic brother’s friend is?” she asked.

His tawny eyes sharpened, and his face lined itself with indignation. “Do you think I wanted to be betrothed to Zuko’s bratty little sister?” he asked. 

“Would you have preferred Zuzu then, Chan? Do you think he’d be your okama? If I wanted to blind myself, I suppose I could imagine it.” It was a low blow. Homosexuality was a capital offense in the Great Empire of Fire, and she knew Asahi wasn’t like that—he had been her first kiss, after all. She didn’t feel bad at all, though.

“Of course not,” he said. Then, his features smoothed, all traces of his anger retreating. It infuriated Azula. “We’re always fighting. Aren’t you sick of it too?” He took her hands in his. The ardent flesh of one firebender against another. “We could make this work. It’s not like I’m not attracted to you. You’re beautiful, Azula—”

She ripped her hands away from his. “Just like my mother. I know,” she snarled.

Azula couldn’t be here any longer. Not with Asahi. She stalked away, abandoning him entirely. She hadn’t lied; she had crossed the bridge, and she had burned it.

It was unfortunate that Asahi had always been a strong swimmer, though.

---

Sokka was seated on the saddle that the so-called flying bison donned, watching his sister and their curious new acquaintance huddled together across from him. He didn’t know what to make of Aang just yet. He was only a kid, maybe a year or two younger than Katara, but he was strange. He was tattooed as Empire of Fire citizens were not, and his eyes weren’t tawny like those of firebenders tended to be, but he thought of one of their islands as a vacation spot. Sokka was suspicious, but he was worried about this kid, too. Something was seriously wrong with Aang. He was sure of it.

It wasn’t all that surprising either. He’d been frozen in the ice for long enough that his best friend seemed to be dead. There was no way he could come out of that exactly as he’d been before. Sokka wouldn’t be surprised if he had amnesia or something. Maybe he was even crazy. Was ice madness a thing? Sea madness was, so it’d make sense for it to go that way too, right?

“Is Sokka always so… broody?” Aang whispered conspiratorially to Katara. He sounded brighter now, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Not always,” Katara said, “but he’s mad because we barely got any meat today, so we’ll be eating mostly seaweed. He’s a big meathead.”

“Hey! I can hear you, you know!” Sokka said.

Katara stuck her tongue out at him, but her eyes were still focused on Aang. Sokka could understand that. Beneath the cheery disposition, he still looked so tired.

“I thought you said this thing flew,” Sokka said. He didn’t know Aang, and he was definitely wary, but he still wanted the kid to get his mind off of what had happened to him.

It seemed to work at least a little. Aang sat up straighter and puffed his cheeks out. “He does fly! Normally…” His expression darkened for a moment. “Appa’s probably just groggy. He just woke up, after all!”

Sokka scoffed at the idea. There were a lot of animals in the world, some of them very strange, but he’d never heard of a bison that could fly. He might not know what animals had been the original airbenders, but he didn’t think that they hadn’t been bison. Even if they had, they were probably extinct by now. He was sure that the Empire of Fire would have slaughtered them after massacring the Air Nomads. Their cruelty knew no ends; they would show no mercy to anything with a spirit.

Sokka knew that firsthand.

He pinched at the skin of his wrist, barely visible between the sleeve of his parka and the tiger sealskin of his mitten. It didn’t hurt enough to dull the sting of his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly it hurt, and he focused on his breathing.

Slowly, the pain receded.

It would come back, though. It always did.

“Oh! There it is!” Katara said. “That’s our home—Amarok Akuq!”

Sokka opened his eyes and blinked until his vision focused. The pearly canvas of their home stretched out in the distance. The sight of it from this distance never stopped making his whole chest ache. It had never been much, but there had been a time when it was more. Sokka had watched it dwindle over the years. His father, Hakoda, had been gone for a year. His mother, Kya, had been gone for almost six. His father’s father, Tonraq, had been gone for nine. His mother’s parents, Nukilik and Alasie, had been gone before Sokka had even been born.

The Empire of Fire had taken each of them. His heart ached for them. His heart ached for everyone who had been taken from his people.

“It’s beautiful,” Aang said.

“You should’ve seen it before,” Sokka murmured.

Aang didn’t seem to have heard him, but Katara shot him a pained look. A silent plea. Aang was confused and upset and hurt, and she wanted to protect him. 

Sokka didn’t think they could, but it was possible they could shelter him here and try to take care of him. If that’s what he could do for his sister, he would do it. No matter how sure he was something was wrong with this kid.

As people began to surround the bison, murmuring about what it was that Sokka and Katara had brought them,—Appa, that was what Aang had called it—Aang dismounted it with ease. Sokka and Katara exchanged a look.

“Hi, everyone!” Aang said in Imiqtitut, bowing once more.

“Uh, how’d you do that?” Sokka asked.

Aang’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes went wide. “Oh? Getting off Appa?” he spoke in Higo this time. Sokka caught the grimaces of the villagers at the sound; Aang didn’t.

“Yeah, you… you floated down,” Sokka said. He was blinking rapidly now. This was going from strange to suspicious. No one could float like that. Except maybe airbenders, but there was no way an airbender would think the Empire of Fire was friendly territory, even if they were encased in ice for a few weeks.

“You just hop down,” Aang said.

Sokka had never heard anything more ridiculous, but Katara got up uneasily and did as Aang instructed. She did not float down like Aang had, but he caught her when she fell, his knees buckling a touch when he did.

Katara laughed, loud and happy, as Aang set her down on her feet, his smile the most genuine it had looked since he fell out of the ice.

“Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Come on, Sokka!” Katara said.

He took a deep breath and then a leap of faith. Aang did not catch him. Both boys came tumbling down into the snow. Sokka groaned in pain as Aang laughed softly.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I’m not as strong as I thought.”

“You’re telling me,” Sokka said. He got up and offered Aang a hand. Aang took it with a smile. It had stopped reaching his eyes, though.

“Sokka, Katara,” their grandma said, making her way to the front of the crowd, “I thought you just went hunting.”

“Aanak!” Katara smiled. “Everyone, this is our friend, Aang. Aang, these are our people.”

Aang bowed once more. “It’s nice to… uh, sorry. My Imiqtitut is rusty, but I’ll try my best.”

“My name is Kanna. You may call me Aanak,” she said, eyeing the bison. “What is this beast? I don’t suppose this is what my grandchildren thought we’d like to eat for dinner.”

Aang startled. “Appa is a friend! He’s not food!”

“She’s kidding, Aang,” Katara said.

“Probably,” Sokka said. “Aanak, is it okay if Aang stays with us for a while? We kind of found him in the ice.”

His grandma’s eyes widened, and the people around them murmured some more. 

Sokka couldn’t blame them. It was certainly unusual to be stuck in ice like Aang had been. The only explanation that made any sense to Sokka was that maybe Aang was a waterbender somehow. It wasn’t as if each bender of a certain element was the same ethnicity, so it was a possibility at least. It didn’t seem likely, though.

“Aang may stay as long as he needs to. We would never throw a child to the wolves.”

“Thank you, Aanak!” Katara said. “Come on, Aang. Let’s get you some food.”

“You guys have seaweed, right?” Aang asked. “I just mean—I know meat is an important part of your culture, but I’m a vegetarian.”

Sokka had never been more sure that something was seriously strange about Aang.

---

It was amazing how quickly today of all days had gone wrong.

When Azula had risen with the sun so many degrees ago, she had been certain that today would go as planned. She would attend the ceremony celebrating the founding of the Great Empire of Fire, she would perform the long series of advanced firebending kata for her father and the Fire Sages, they would give her their divine blessing, and she would not be forced to see Asahi until the banquet that followed her presentation to their great country as the first Master Firebender of her generation. She had performed the kata for them, and the Fire Sages had seemed favorable, but they were fools who knew nothing. She had made a fool of herself and her family with her imperfection. Lo and Li were right to have said as much. Her father was right to have dismissed her for it. And then Asahi had ruined her mood completely by interrupting her training. He was lucky she couldn’t shoot her perfect bolts of lightning through his chest.

Azula was not an honest girl. The truth of how many times she had thought about killing Asahi was something that would never spill forth from her tongue. It could not be said, let alone done.

Still, there was something soothing to the fantasy. She would take her lightning and impale him with it, split him as she had split her ki; he would be womaned by her. Even now, even on one of the worst days of her life, the thought made Azula smile.

“Princess Azula!”

The sound washed her of her smile. Her burgeoning joy burst. It was the Fire Sage from earlier. He had not understood that she did not wish to speak with him, but her father would have her head if she were to slight a Fire Sage. She halted and turned to face him.

He bowed to her.

She bowed back. “Divine Sage, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Please,” he said, “call me Shyu.”

Azula’s face twitched at the impropriety of it. She did not want the intimacy of this man’s given name in her mouth. “I could not be so disrespectful,” she said evenly. A firm refusal on the basis of manners. It could not be taken any other way.

“I see…” he said. “Nevertheless. I—I have something I must tell you, Princess Azula.”

“Oh? Did my father send you?” Azula asked.

“No, I’m afraid not. He does not know. No one but the Fire Sages knows,” he said.

Azula’s eyebrow arched. Her interest was piqued now. There were many vows that the Fire Sages had taken, and there were things that they could not tell even the Fire Emperor, but she could not imagine that anything her father could not be informed of could possibly be told to her. Especially not by only one of the Fire Sages.

Shyu continued on. “We are sworn to secrecy, but, Princess Azula, I cannot in good conscience stay silent with the state of the world as it is.”

Gold eyes sharpened. “Is that so?” she asked.

“My honorable father only instated me as a Fire Sage in the Imperial Year 2985,” he said, “but at your naming, the Fire Sages resided. I discovered recently that it was recorded that day that you, Princess Azula, were the next incarnation of the avatar.”

A firebender’s temperature ran high by nature, but Azula had never felt quite so cold.

“I know it is tradition that the identity of the avatar not be revealed until their sixteenth year, but it is critical that you act soon. My niece speaks very highly of you. I—”

“Shyu,” Azula said slowly. Her cherry mouth curled around the syllables of his name with disdain. “Do you know what the avatar did to the Great Empire of Fire? Are you aware of the shrine here in Heian-kyō honoring the brave soldiers, firebenders and nonbenders alike, who were slaughtered at the hands of the avatar and the Air Nation Army during the Battles at the Air Temples? Because I am, and I have visited them with my father every year on the anniversary of their deaths. The loss of their lives was devastating, was it not?”

His mouth moved nervously to answer her, but she stuck a red-nailed hand out to silence him.

“It is for that exact reason that we as a country have outlawed discussion of the avatar outside of academic discussions about how they turned on our people, and it is for that exact reason that I am disgusted that you would ever suggest that I, an honorable descendant of Amaterasu and Agni, would be the next incarnation of the very soul who turned its back on its duty to the people of every nation. To say that I was born to such violence is not only blasphemous; it is treasonous. Tell me, Shyu, do you know what the punishment for high treason is?”

Shyu’s face was pale, and his mouth opened soundlessly. He looked even younger than he had before; he was a child in over his head.

Azula rolled her eyes at his mannerisms. “It’s execution. Luckily for you, however, I believe it would be too disgraceful to even bother my father with the notion that his own flesh and blood could be an enemy of the Dragon Throne. So long as you forget about this little excursion, I’ll allow you to return to the Fire Sages alive.” 

Azula did not have a reputation for kindness or for mercy. She was certain that this was why Shyu’s shoulders shook as he thanked her profusely for this display of both.

It was only that she was terrified of what her father would say if the idea was even suggested to him. There was no thought for this pathetic traitor’s life. She was only concerned with her survival. It was pure luck on his behalf that her survival ensured his. Perhaps he had been born lucky.

Perhaps Azula had not.

---

Once Aang had had his fill of the seaweed their people had preserved in the summer months, he asked what Katara did for fun. 

She went silent. It had been a long time since Katara had had fun. She had been carrying the weight of her responsibilities as one of the older children of the village for so long, and there had been no time for frivolous things that brought her joy.

He blinked at her, wide-eyed and uncertain. “You guys do have fun here, right?”

“I—I mean, the kids do,” she said.

“Aren’t you a kid too?” he asked, his head tilted as if it were so simple. It felt anything but.

Katara’s mouth clamped shut. There was something painful in her throat. Was she a kid? She hadn’t felt like one in ages. She wasn’t sure she’d ever fully been a kid.

“I mean, you’re only a little older than me, right?” Aang asked.

“I’m thirteen,” she said.

“I’ll be thirteen in a few weeks!” he said. “That means we’re basically the same age. If I’m a kid, you’re a kid. You do think I’m a kid, right?”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “You are.”

Aang nodded sagely. “It’s decided then. We’re both kids, so we should do something fun! What do the other kids around here do?”

“We could go penguin sledding,” she said.

He smiled. It was so bright Katara almost thought the sun was above the horizon for a moment. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart had felt so light in her chest as she took him by the hand to find the penguins. It was nice to feel so free. It was new.

She hoped Aang felt as free as she did. She wanted to lessen his pain however she could.

They were quiet as she pulled him toward where the penguins usually spent this time of day. There were just the sounds of their breathing and the snow crunching under their feet. Still, it was nice. She had only just met Aang, but there was something about him. He was strange, sure, and clearly confused about some things, but he had a warmth that Katara had never felt before. She wanted to bask in it.

When they finally found the penguins, he let out a breathless laugh. “Now what?” He looked at her, earnest and thrilled, and she hoped she wasn’t imagining the light in his mahogany eyes.

“Now you catch one,” she said.

He charged one and leaped—it dodged easily, shaking itself off as Aang spat snow out of his mouth.

Katara laughed at him, her head dipping back with the weight of it in her mouth.

Aang looked up at her, his eyes wide. Somewhere in the back of her head, she wondered if they ever stopped being so round and larger than life. The thought was chased away as he got up and tried again with another penguin. Another failure. It didn’t dampen his mood in the slightest. Not even as she laughed harder with each failure. If anything, he seemed more spirited for his failures.

“Do you want a hand?” she asked finally, her stomach aching from the effort of her laughter.

From the floor, Aang grinned toothily up at her. “Help would be appreciated, Katara.”

She smiled back at him and helped him to his feet.

“Oh, Wise Master, how do I catch a penguin to go sledding?” he asked.

Katara’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling and laughing. It was a new feeling; she couldn’t say she disliked it. “First, we need bait.”

“Bait! Got it!” Aang nodded.

Catching two fish wasn’t a problem at all, and once they made their way back to the penguins, Katara gripped her fish by its tail. “I haven’t done this in a while, but keep your eyes on me, okay?”

“That won’t be a problem,” he said.

Her stomach did a somersault. She approached a penguin as calmly as she could and held out the fish to it. The penguin took it happily, and Katara seized the opportunity to jump on its back. “Your turn!” she called out as her penguin flopped onto its belly to slide downhill.

Aang must have been a quick study because it was only a minute later that he was sledding behind her. “I’ll race you!” he said.

“You’re on!”

Racing like that, laughing and taunting each other—it was the most fun Katara could ever remember having. She didn’t even remember to pay attention to where they were heading. Not until she saw the ship in the distance.

The Empire of Fire vessel had been crashed in this area for as long as Katara could remember. She had always been taught to steer clear of it, and she had always done so. Even abandoned, there was nothing good that could come of it. Even if there was, it was probably rigged in some way. The Empire of Fire was dangerous like that. They wouldn’t risk their military secrets getting out, even if it killed their own soldiers.

She got off her penguin and let it waddle away.

“Whoa… what was the Empire of Fire doing way out here?” Aang asked, following suit.

Katara felt her heart sink. She’d forgotten that Aang didn’t seem to remember the war. “Nothing good,” she said simply.

He didn’t share her caution. “We should explore it. Maybe there’s something on board that could help me look for my friend. Like a flare or something. If she saw that, she’d definitely check it out.” She thought he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince her, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

“Aang, we really shouldn’t. I’m forbidden to go in there,” she said.

“But… but what if a flare is the difference between finding her and never seeing her again,” he said. He sounded so small. So scared.

How could Katara do anything but follow him?

---

On the deck of one of the Empire of Fire’s most rickety Imperial Navy vessels, Zuko was attempting a set of intermediate firebending kata he should have mastered by now. He was still struggling to move his body through it, to keep his fire steady til the end. He knew that he should calm his breathing, that his inner flame was tempered by his breath, but the knowledge only made him angrier. The angrier he got, the harder it became to breathe evenly.

Azula had mastered this kata the week before their father had told him he was to be exiled. She had been four years younger than he was now. Zuko was sure that now she was mastering advanced kata, including those pertaining to lightningbending. The thought made his nostrils flare. Even here, even after he had gone two years without seeing her once, Azula was under his skin.

He let out a frustrated scream.

The only person onboard who reacted to it was his uncle, Prince Iroh. Everyone was used to these outbursts by now. That didn’t stop Iroh from caring, though. “Oigo-kun, what’s wrong?” he asked, looking up from his meal of jasmine tea and oden. Concern was pressed into the lines of his face. He was only forty-three, but he had looked older than he was for several long years now. Once, he had told Zuko that it was the stress of fighting another man’s war that had aged him so. Zuko had been unsure of if it were another proverb or not.

He hesitated to answer his uncle. He could tell Iroh anything, but he didn’t want to share this. While Iroh sympathized with his anger toward his younger sister as he had known Azula himself, Zuko didn’t want to risk being told that he was progressing at his own rate or he should let go of his resentments. “It’s this kata,” he said instead. “I don’t understand why I haven’t mastered it yet.”

“Ah. Do you need my assistance?” Iroh asked.

Zuko grimaced. He loved his uncle, but the man’s assistance with firebending was never very helpful. He didn’t understand Zuko’s struggle. He had never shared in it. Like Azula, Iroh had been born to prodigy. Despite this, Iroh was a kind-hearted man who never looked down upon Zuko. Still, he had blind spots because of it.

Before Zuko could answer either way, a flare went off in the distance, lighting up the sky that Amaterasu had forsaken. He rushed to the railing of the deck.

“Did you see that, Oji-sama?” he asked.

His uncle blinked. “I did.”

“We have to investigate it immediately,” Zuko said. “It looked like a distress flare, but none of our Imperial Navy’s ships should be out here this time of year.” Raids of the Southern Water Tribe were never scheduled during the sunless seasons of the South Pole; tradition was that they occurred during the summer months when the power of firebenders was at its greatest. Zuko was sure that there would be no raids so early in the year. There were very few alternative explanations for a beam of light so bright. “My exile could be over,” he said quietly.

Iroh pressed his hand to the shoulder of Zuko’s haori, grounding him. “Do not get your hopes up, Oigo-kun. It is unlikely the avatar will be found in the Southern Water Tribe,” he said. “It is most likely that he has reincarnated as an earthbender already.”

“I know, Oji-sama,” Zuko said, “but we didn’t find anything in the Three Kingdoms of Earth or the Warring Earth States!”

It was a touchy subject. Zuko was still angry about how the seventeen months spent traversing earthbender country had yielded him no results and how Iroh had been so distracted during their search, treating it like an opportunity to sightsee instead of a campaign to restore Zuko’s honor and his place in the Imperial House of Fire’s line of succession. Iroh knew this, and so he backed down immediately, deferring to Zuko’s command.

“You!” Zuko said to the captain of the ship, Hisakawa Hachirō. “Set sail in the direction of the flare we saw immediately.”

“Some manners wouldn’t kill you, Your Imperial Highness,” Hisakawa said under his breath, but he was to Zuko’s right side, and so Zuko heard.

His fingertips smoked as he stormed off the deck and into his cabin. He would bring the avatar’s corpse to his father’s feet, and then he would see the respect that was his patrimony.

---

The world was golden when Mai was greeted with the sight of Princess Azula on her elaborately lacquered palanquin. Dutifully, Mai bowed to her in greeting, willing her brow to stay smooth despite the concern rising within her chest at this unscheduled arrival. When Mai rose from her bow, the sliding door had been opened to reveal Azula. Azula’s face was stone as was hers. The servants who had carried the princess here were dismissed back to the Imperial Palace once Azula had vacated her palanquin, and so two girls made of stone were left alone.

Mai waited for Azula to speak. She knew that today must have gone poorly if Azula had come here with her lips in such a state of inertia as opposed to their customary smirk.

There must have been several minutes of silence as eclipsed eyes traversed the features surrounding eyes like Amaterasu before Azula finally sighed and ran her nails across the exposed flesh of her throat. “Retrieve your parents,” she ordered.

Mai obeyed with nothing more than a nod. When she returned with her father, Nakatomi Ukano, and mother, Nakatomi Michi, in tow, they prostrated themselves before Azula. The sight of her parents’ reverence of Azula was not a new one, but it was one that Mai had never become fully acclimated to. She had bowed to Azula’s will and image alike many times, but Azula had been her friend for far longer than she had been the heir apparent of the Dragon Throne.

“Rise,” Azula said. She sounded irritable as if their prostration had been flawed. It was almost enough to make Mai smile while her parents obeyed Azula’s command. Mai had always derived a sort of thrill from witnessing her parents’ desperation to please Azula, from the knowledge that they never would, but, as imperfect as they believed her to be, she did. “You’re both dismissed.”

Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but Azula’s eyes sharpened at the sight. She left quickly after that.

Mai smiled. Azula had requested the presence of Mai’s parents only to humiliate them. Mai knew by now that such a display meant Azula wanted her to be in a good mood.

“It’s good to see you, Mai,” Azula said. It had only been a day since they had seen each other at the Imperial Fire Academy for Girls which they both attended.

Mai swallowed her smile whole, and her face returned to its usual languor. “You as well, Princess Azula,” she said.

Azula’s nostrils flared impatiently. She hated this game that Mai so loved to play. Her contempt only fueled Mai’s love for it. “Don’t be so formal. It’s just us,” she said.

“Of course.”

Gold eyes watched her expectantly.

“Azula,” she relented, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” She kept her voice uniform with each word. She always did. It never discouraged Azula, though.

“I’m bored, Mai,” she said. It was far less demanding than she usually was. In spite of herself, Mai felt her face soften a hair.

While she knew the princess would never admit it, both their lives had become exponentially lonelier over the past two years. Two of the most steadfast presences in them had been removed, by force and by choice. They were each all the other had left of the gaping holes in their chests. Each other, the pain that followed, and, for Mai, the confusion that clouded her future in the Imperial Court now.

It would be monstrously foolish for Mai to bring any of that up, though, and Mai had never had the privilege of being a foolish girl.

“Asahi-kun’s latest attempt to court you didn’t go well?” she asked even though she already knew the answer.

Azula shot her a fervent glare. “Chan was lovely,” she said, “but I wanted you. Now entertain me, Mai.”

“As you command, Azula,” she said. She flicked her wrist, and the kunai that lined the scarlet sleeves of her furisode were revealed.

“No,” Azula said, “I know your aim is perfect. I see it all the time at the academy. You’ll have to do better today.”

Mai snorted without worry about Azula reprimanding her unladylike behavior. “What, do you want to see my swordsmanship?”

“I see that all the time too.” It was a lie. 

Mai showed off her skillset with the katana and the wakizashi far less frequently than she showed off her marksmanship with her various knives, shuriken, senbon, and arrows. Still, Mai didn’t call Azula on her lie. There was no point in it today. Instead, she went quiet for a moment, thinking over the activities that had amused Azula in their shared childhoods.

“We’re going to the Caldera,” Mai said.

“You would send me home as I came?” Azula asked. She had arched an eyebrow in challenge or perhaps amusement. Mai thought that, secretly, Azula liked her best when she defied expectations.

She rolled her eyes. “I said we, didn’t I?”

Azula pursed her red-painted lips, but she walked alongside Mai regardless.

“You’re sure you don’t want to be carried?” Mai asked, low and with a flicker of teasing.

“Are you strong enough to carry me?” Azula asked. “You look rather frail to me.”

Mai laughed. Azula joined her. There was no malice to fill their lungs as oxygen. There was only this moment stretched into the next, and the hope that it might never end.

“So what are we doing at the Imperial Palace?”

“You’re going to order some servants to play onigokko with us. You always did like being the oni,” Mai said. She was pleased when she caught a glimpse of Azula’s rubied mouth flickering into the shape of a smile. Her day might have gone horribly wrong, but Mai could remedy it like salve to a wound. She liked to feel useful in this way. Purposeful, even. She could provide Azula with something no one else could. So long as she could occupy the space at Azula’s side, perhaps it didn’t even matter that she would likely never stand beside Zuko as his consort.

---

Aang had been banished from the Water People for setting off a distress flare in the abandoned Imperial Navy vessel. Kanna had looked at him, her eyes glassy with pain, and told him that she could not endanger her people by continuing to allow him to be sheltered here if he was going to go against the rules of their community. He had bowed in apology and left, regret flooding his spirit. He should have listened to Katara. He should have prioritized the safety of her people over the slightest possibility of finding Nyima alive.

He had been selfish instead. What would the monastics say when they found out? What would Gyatso say?

As much as his heart ached with every moment he spent not knowing if Nyima was all right, putting his own wants above the needs of an entire people had been a horrible idea, especially when he knew how much the Water People valued community.

Appa trudged onward, still unwilling to fly even when Aang said “yip yip.” Maybe Appa hated him too. For killing Nyima and for endangering the Water People. It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve that.

He stared down sullenly at the snow beneath them, but something was very wrong with the patch of snow under his gaze. It had turned black with soot.

Aang’s head shot up, and he looked back toward Amarok Akuq. In the distance, through the dark, he thought he could make out the gleaming outline of a ship and the red of its flags.

“Appa, yip yip! We have to get back to the village!” he said.

Appa did not move.

“Yip yip!”

The flying bison turned with great effort. He did not fly, though. He only walked forward.

Aang groaned. This way would take forever. Appa had never been a fast creature. “Please, buddy. I know you miss Nyima—I do too, but we have to help Katara and Sokka’s people! Yip yip!”

At last, Appa rose up in the air. Together, they soared back over the pearly terrain to Amarok Akuq. The wind was cold and harsh against Aang’s scalp, but he grit his teeth and pulled the hood of the parka Katara had given him over his head.

Appa landed with a sound like that of thunder within the village as a boy donning armor that Aang had never seen before picked himself up from the snow, brandishing a blue and white boomerang. A burn the size of a hand wrapped itself around the left side of his face across his eye and ear. His head was bald save for a patch of hair in the center worn in what Aang recognized as a phoenix-tail, an Empire of Fire hairstyle donned in childhood by boys and in adulthood by women. There was no doubt in Aang’s mind that he was a firebender, but he was not like any that Aang had known. There was something wrong.

“Who are you? And what is that thing?” the boy said. “State both your names and origins!”

“No!” Katara said. “You have to leave!”

“Seriously, get out of here, kid!” Sokka said.

Aang looked at them both, and he looked at the terrified faces of the women and children of Amarok Akuq. He knew he could not leave.

“Who are you?” he asked the firebender.

He blinked stupidly for a moment. “I am Prince Zuko of the Imperial House of Fire! I’m here for the avatar!”

Aang wanted to throw up. What did the Empire of Fire want with the avatar? Why would Fire Emperor Sozin send one of his sons to collect them from the Water People? Everyone knew that the current incarnation of the avatar was an airbender.

“He’d be elderly by now—like this woman!” Zuko walked up to Kanna to grab her.

Aang’s mouth moved before he could think any of this through, from the fact that Fire Emperor Sozin’s son, Prince Zuko, had turned twenty and had his genpuku some years ago to the fact that the avatar could not possibly be elderly now as Avatar Roku had only died thirteen years prior. “I’m the avatar.”

Around him, the world stilled.

“I’m Lobsang of the Southern Air Temple,” he said. “I’m the one you’re after, so leave these people alone.”

“No… you can’t be the utterpok,” Katara said quietly. Aang didn’t know what she meant by that; he couldn’t remember what utterpok meant in Imiqtitut. “The airbenders… they’re all—”

His eyes felt heavy and wet at the sound of her strangled voice. He didn’t know what she had hidden from him about his people as she did not know the secrets he was hiding from her. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not even Zuko.

“But you’re just a child,” Zuko said.

Aang dismounted Appa, floating down to the snow below. He pulled the hood of the parka down. “And you’re just a teenager,” he said, trying to smile.

“Prove it,” Zuko ordered. “Prove that you’re the avatar.”

He took a deep breath, and he twirled into a basic airbending form, ending it with a gust of air blown at Zuko’s face, tousling his phoenix-tail.

Tawny eyes widened for a moment. They were sharpened to a point in a matter of seconds. “Seize the avatar,” Zuko ordered of the men clad in similar armor around him. “Leave the beast. We aren’t equipped to take it home to Chichi-ue.”

Aang offered no resistance. Even as Katara and Sokka yelled after him. Whatever had led to this, whatever had happened while he had been frozen, this was his burden to shoulder.

---

It was with great reluctance that Azula parted with Mai as the sun slipped through their hands and beneath the horizon, but Mai had to return to her parents, and Azula had to return to her father. Their stolen moments of childhood were at an end once more. That was the thing about childhood; it was never built to last. Least of all in the Great Empire of Fire. Least of all for Princess Azula.

She smiled blood red as she bowed to her father. “Good evening, Chichi-ue,” she said, taking her seat.

“Azula,” he nodded.

They were the only two seated. They were always the only two seated. Their family had shrunk over the years. First her cousin, Prince Lu Ten, had been killed at the tail end of the Siege of Ba Sing Se. Then her grandfather, Fire Emperor Azulon for whom she was named, had died in his sleep, and her coward of a mother had fled in the night. Then Zuko had disgraced himself and been banished, taking their uncle with him.

Lo and Li were technically welcome to join them at meals as her father’s half-sisters, and so could Lo’s son, Commander Zhao, but they rarely did. Zhao had been stationed in Ketu Harbor in the southernmost part of Đất Nam by her father, and Lo and Li preferred to dine earlier in the evening so as to retire sooner. They had two decades on her father and acted it.

“Itadakimasu.”

The meal before them was extravagant: kōreegusu from Hinokuchi over manatee whale meat, butajiru soup, steamed rice, and hot junmai daiginjo sake, all prepared beautifully.

She picked her lacquered chopsticks up, held them from as high up as she could,—she was royalty, and she would behave as such—and ate carefully, slurping her soup and not dropping so much as a single grain of rice. She would not make another mistake before her father’s watchful eyes.

“You went over the kata?” he asked as he set down his emptied bowl of soup.

Azula froze, her chopsticks hovering above her plate. “Yes, Chichi-ue,” she said. “I drilled them over and over.”

He nodded. “Good. It was too soon to present you to the Fire Sages, but perhaps over your summer term break, we will try again. That is if you believe you won’t repeat your mistake.”

“I won’t embarrass you again,” she vowed, her eyes locked on the manatee whale meat beneath her chopsticks. It didn’t look as appetizing anymore. Not when the threat of another failure was rising on the horizon.

---

The Imperial Navy ship was getting smaller in the distance. Katara could barely see it in the star-lined sky. There was no Tui to light the path and impart into her waterbender heart the strength she needed.

Katara had never felt so hopeless. She had been waiting for the utterpok all her life, and she had found him only to lose him as soon as she knew who he was. He had gone willingly to the Empire of Fire. How had she not realized who he was? His tattoos were unlike any she had ever seen, and his survival in the iceberg could not have had a normal explanation. He was only a boy, though. If she had ever expected to meet the airbender utterpok who had disappeared the day of the Air Nomad Genocide, it would have been as an old, wrinkled soul. 

Aang was only a boy, and he was set to die now.

“The utterpok was here,” Sokka said as he paced through the snow, away from the others, “and now he’s being carted off to the Empire of Fire. Of course, the second we get even a shred of hope about ending the war and Ataata coming home—of course, the Empire of Fire would kill it like they kill everything else.” His eyes were gleaming with unshed tears.

Katara could not offer him any solace. She could think only of Aang, alone and terrified and resigned to his death to save her people. She could think only of how she had to save him at any cost. She needed to see him safe. It was not an urge she could set down and cleanse herself of. She would follow him to the ends of the cosmos if need be.

“I’m going after him,” she said.

Sokka stared at her. “You can’t leave the village. You’re not old enough.”

“He’s going to die if I don’t.”

She could see Sokka’s throat bobbing from beneath his collar. “Okay. I’m coming with you then.”

“Really?”

“I’m your big brother now—” 

“You were always my big brother.”

“Which is exactly why I can’t leave you alone, Katara. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you. Or to Aang.”

“We’ll have to sneak out somehow. Everyone is confused, and everything is a mess, so maybe it won’t be too hard.”

Sokka nodded firmly. The two of them set to work gathering supplies: Sokka’s boomerang, a war club for Katara, mittens for Aang, a waterskin just in case, and an umiak to chase after the ship.

When they turned to leave, their grandma stood before them, her eyes knowing. “A long time ago in the future,” she said, “the utterpok brought balance to the world. Adults have waged a war. Ending that war should not be the responsibility of children, but if you need to go, I will give you my blessing. Just promise you will come back too.”

“We will, Aanak,” Sokka promised.

“And when we do, the war will be over. I promise,” Katara said.

Their grandma pressed her nose to both of Katara’s cheeks to breathe in her memory. Katara’s cheeks were damp when her grandma pulled away. She repeated the gesture with Sokka. Katara didn’t look to see if his cheeks were damp too. She didn’t have to. “You won’t be alone. Rescue Aang, then go to the North Pole. Tell them I sent you as the last elder of our village. They’re your people too. They will help you,” she said.

“I love you,” Katara said. She had never meant it more.

Sokka swallowed. “We both do. More than you know.”

“And I, you,” their grandma said. She was almost smiling. “Now go—hurry. Save the utterpok. Our people will be all right in your absence. We take care of each other. And—put down the umiak. Take Appa instead. I’m sure Aang won’t mind.”

They both nodded.

Katara turned to Sokka who gripped his boomerang a little tighter. The sadness in his eyes was still there, but now, something was burning in them too. For the first time in years, he was carrying hope pressed between his ribs.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

“Yip yip!”

And then they were off.

Notes:

additional cw: descriptions of food and eating

i was going to do a full thing of cultural + translation notes here, but they got too long, and i don’t think they’re necessary because most of what’s presented is either contextually understandable or widely known already. however, for the things that might be a little harder to understand:

- the fire sages are referred to as “divine sage” due to them being a rough translation of the real-life shinto shrine keepers and kami worship leaders whose japanese name translates to “divine master”
- “chichi-ue” is a very old-fashioned and reverent way to address your father—the way a samurai might address his father
- “meigo-kun” is a semi-formal, affectionate way to address your niece
- “yūshi” is a way to address someone else’s child (typically your nephew) while conveying they are like your own
- “aanak” means grandma
- “avunniti” refers to february and “naliqqaittuq” to january
- “okama” in this context is a derogatory way to say bottom
- “oigo-kun” is a semi-formal, affectionate way to address your nephew
- “ataata” means dad

if anything else is unclear to you, just ask me in the comments, and if it’s not a huge spoiler or something that’s going to come to make more sense later, i’ll explain it for you.

also. modern au is on hiatus until thoroughbreds au is complete and the canonverse azula redemption is also on hiatus, but that'll come back when i finally feel up to rewatching atla.

Chapter 2: The Airbenders (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this time, azula takes a little while to show up! it's abt having an ensemble cast. granted, she is the protagonist of this story. i'll probs stop giving these heads up abt when main characters take a while to show up in a chapter soon. i just want to get people into the feel of things here first.

additional content warnings are in the end notes as they always will be.

Zuko felt a stinging across his face, but it wasn’t the phantom pains left by his scar, the memory of flames licking at his flesh, begging to burn through his skull, leaving his left eye and ear nigh functionless. For the first time in years, it was the sting of a smile he could not shake. It had been a long while since his mood had been good at all, let alone quite this good. Today was a special day, though.

Today was the beginning of the end. His exile was almost over. His crew had informed him in a state of something akin to awe that the avatar was locked away in the brig, content to sit there and meditate until they brought him to his knees before Zuko’s father. It was the kind of thing his father might announce the birth of a new festival over; boy-avatar or not, Zuko bringing in the criminal who turned on his great-grandfather and the rest of the firebenders was sure to instill envy in even Azula.

“Oji-sama, did you hear the good news?” he asked.

Iroh blinked at the sight of him. “I heard we were heading north. Are we going back to the earthbender countries? I suppose we did miss out on those Three Kingdoms of Earth masked dance performances on our last trek. You know, Oigo-kun, I think—”

“We’re going home, Oji-sama,” Zuko said. The word dislodged something painful in his throat, but his smile did not unravel for it; it felt almost wrong to call the Empire of Fire home, to call Heian-kyō or the Caldera his home, but they were his home. He had cut his teeth there. The sun that hung in the sky for so many days of his exile was always his sun, but it was in Heian-kyō that it warmed him the most. He would feel the rays of his ancestor wash over him once more.

“Home?” Iroh asked. “But your banishment…”

“I found the avatar,” Zuko said. “He was hiding in the Southern Water Tribe.”

“I see,” Iroh said. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. Zuko did not understand. Where was his excitement? His hope? They would win the Heavenly War of Tranquility, the avatar’s spirit would be cleansed of its betrayal so it could be born anew, Iroh’s brother—Zuko’s father would welcome them both home.

All would be forgiven.

Everything was going to be all right now, and yet Iroh was frowning.

“We should celebrate. Green tea and wagashi like you like,” Zuko said, desperation coloring his voice even as his smile would not fade. He wanted his uncle to rejoice with him. He was sorry he had been so short with the man throughout his exile; he knew Iroh had volunteered to go with him, that he had done so to keep Zuko from being alone, and that his heart was as good as his title. Zuko wanted to repay his blood. It was what he owed. He knew the debts that he had inherited, passed from father to son, uncle to nephew, on and on. It was not unique to him; all sons were born indebted to their fathers. It was the way of his people.

Azula had inherited debts too. To the head upon which the Dragon Diadem sat, to their father and mother, to their uncle and aunts, to Zuko himself even.

He would not be like his sister. He would repay his every debt; not only the ones that suited him best.

“Yes, tea would be good,” Iroh said.

“Let me make it, Oji-sama,” Zuko said.

For once, Iroh did not fight him on his request. Zuko’s shoulders were tense as he heated the teapot with his bending and gave the order for wagashi to be provided. They were tenser still as manjū was placed before him and Iroh.

The tea was too hot for even a firebender’s inferno-kissed tongue. Still, Zuko did not flinch as its burn slicked his throat. He swallowed every scalding drop with diligence, even as his knuckles turned into porcelain, threatening to shatter the cup and send its shards into the depths of his palms.

Iroh had barely touched his tea and had not so much as looked at his manjū. “Oigo-kun,” he started, “how can you be sure that you have captured the avatar?”

“He can airbend,” Zuko said. His words were mountains, and they would not be moved.

Iroh took a slow sip and winced only slightly. “Ah. However, we know that there are airbenders who survived the… Battles at the Air Temples. Is it not possible he descends from one of those survivors?”

“I… no—no, he can’t be,” Zuko said. His resolve was beginning to crumble. The sting in his cheeks no longer felt quite so pleasant.

“I suppose it would be unlikely there could be two one-hundred-and-twelve-year-old airbenders in the world…” Iroh said.

Zuko stilled. His mouth dropped back down into a line. The avatar was only a boy. The avatar might not be the avatar at all.

“Oigo-kun?” Iroh asked. “Is something the matter?”

“No, everything is fine,” Zuko said.

His father would forgive him. The slate would be washed clean. The Heavenly War would be won. He wore his mantra like the armor wrapped around his lissome form, afraid that if he let even one plate of it come loose, he would find blood where he had worn it.

---

Wind whipped through Sokka’s warrior’s wolf tail as they gained on the prince’s ship. “We should fly lower so we can sneak up on them,” he said. He wasn’t sure how to ask Appa to do that, but he hoped saying it might inspire the bison to do as he suggested. 

With great luck, Appa did seem to hear him and listen; he sank lower in the air until his hooves were kissing the saltwater surface.

He watched as, next to him on Appa’s saddle, Katara clutched the betrothal necklace that had been passed down like folklore from their grandmother to their mother to him to Katara. She was fiddling with it again.

Sokka grimaced at the sight. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I mean…” she trailed off. “I kind of rushed into this, didn’t I?”

He snorted. “Yeah, a little bit. But it’s fine; I have a plan,” he said.

“What’s the plan?” Katara asked, releasing the pendant.

“We’re gonna use the element of surprise. We’ll sneak on board, get to the brig, free Aang, and then sneak out. If we get caught, Aang will go all crazy utterpok on them. Probably,” he said.

Katara’s eye twitched. “That’s the plan!?”

“It’s better than your plan! And I only had like thirty minutes to come up with it,” Sokka said. “We don’t have the blueprints of the ship, we don’t know how many enemies there are onboard, and we don’t know what they’re armed with. This is the best we can do for now.”

She mumbled something under her breath. He didn’t catch it, but he glared anyway.

“This is how we save Aang,” Sokka said. “You know, that thing that meant so much to you that you were ready to go against our upbringing and everything we know to do it.”

“… You’re right,” she sighed. “You’re right. All that matters is we save Aang.”

“And that we don’t die in the process,” he said. It was only half a joke.

Katara’s expression darkened. “Right,” she said. “Hey, Sokka—”

“Don’t tell me; I’m the greatest brother ever?” He wouldn’t let her say any goodbyes. Not yet.

Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly. She whispered, “Don’t die.”

He grew serious as the salt-lined air caught in his throat. “I won’t if you won’t, Katara.”

“Swear it on my life.”

Something like a smile broke across his face. “I thought I was the funny one.”

“I thought you were the pretty one.”

“That too.”

His stomach lurched violently. Appa had dipped even lower, immersing his lower half in the ocean entirely. With any luck, the darkness meant that they were beneath the sightline of anyone on board the prince’s ship. As long as they stayed relatively quiet, they would be fine. They’d get in, find Aang, and get out.

They would do it because they had to. Because he couldn’t let his sister down. Because the utterpok had to come back to them. Because it was what the world needed him to do.

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the droplets of water spraying over him drip down his face. He imagined it was washing away his worries. He imagined himself and Katara rescuing Aang and making the prince pay for what he had tried to take. For what his people had taken. When his eyes opened, the steel side of the ship they’d been chasing was all he could see. It seemed to stretch on forever even when he knew that the ship was relatively small, especially for an Empire of Fire vessel.

“Ready?” he mouthed at Katara.

She gripped her war club and nodded.

He wrapped his hands around the railing, and he struggled to pull himself up and over it so that he could discern if anyone would be able to see them invading. From what he could tell, the few crewmembers who were on the deck were huddled together in deep conversation. Sokka tried to pull himself over the railing, but his arms burned, and his palms grew sweaty with the effort. His teeth ground into each other as he tried to keep himself quiet even as his eyes watered.

Thankfully, Appa seemed aware of his struggle and rose in the air somewhat to give him the boost he needed. There was a slight thudding sound as he made it over the railing at last, but the crewmembers didn’t seem to hear as they burst into laughter at something. The spirits were on Sokka’s side as he reached over the railing to help pull Katara up with him. Perhaps it was only Appa’s spirit on his side, but he would count it.

She signaled over to where the small cluster of crewmembers was thankfully still immersed in their conversation, mouthing something. He couldn’t discern most of what she said, but from the look on her face, he thought she was implying something violent.

He shook his head no and pointed toward a door that he hoped would lead them down. “We have to focus on finding the brig,” he mouthed.

Katara stared at him. He could see the gears in her head turning as she tried to discern what he had mouthed. Recognition did not quite dawn on her, but she still started to sneak across the deck.

Sokka followed after her.

Miraculously, they made it through the sliding door unseen by the crewmembers on the deck. Less miraculously, they were immediately met with the pale face of a young man with tawny eyes.

Katara acted quickly, lunging to clobber him over the head with her war club. 

Before he could fall to the floor with a thunk, Sokka caught him and lowered him down. He was warmer than anything Sokka had ever held. “Is there rope anywhere?” he whispered. In his arms, he felt the firebender start to stir. He went to clamp a hand over the man’s mouth. At the last second, he stopped, remembering a story his father had told him once about a firebender who could spew flames from his mouth.

“There’s no rope. What do we do?” Katara whispered back, panic coloring her every word.

Sokka acted without thinking. He brought the edge of his boomerang to the firebender’s throat and his mouth to the shell of the man’s ear. “Make a sound, move a muscle, and you’re dead,” he said in Higo. He hoped he was convincing. Hoped his boomerang felt sharp enough at this angle that it could be mistaken for the steel of a blade.

The firebender stilled except for the rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re gonna be… you’re gonna be our hostage,” Sokka said, his voice still low. “Okay? We just want Aang back—the boy your prince took. Then you can go. So are you gonna lead us to Aang, or do you wanna die? Nod if you’ll help us.”

The man nodded frantically.

“We’re taking a hostage?” Katara asked.

“Do you have a better idea?” Sokka asked.

She went quiet even as her expression did not ease.

“Right. Now, which way is he?”

The three of them walked with Sokka holding his boomerang close to the man’s throat and the man gesturing with his head which direction to go next. They ducked into shadows to avoid other crewmembers but most of them seemed to be powering the steam engine or otherwise helping the ship run. Sokka found himself hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t run into anyone and that the man was not leading them into a trap. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, scared and powerful and on edge all at once. He wasn’t sure there had been a last time.

The man stopped dead in his tracks before a door.

“This is it?” Sokka asked.

He nodded.

“There are guards?” Sokka asked.

The man hesitated.

“Answer him,” Katara whispered, raising her club again.

Reluctantly, he nodded once more.

“What are we gonna do?” she asked.

Sokka closed his eyes. He could feel his pulse in his temple. The hostage trick had worked up to this point, but if anyone else saw them, they’d tell the firebender it was only a boomerang and not a blade at his throat. If they charged in with him, they would only be adding to the guards’ numbers. If they let him go free, he’d go get help, and they’d have to fight the whole crew, including the prince.

“We have to create a diversion,” Katara whispered.

Sokka’s eyes burst open. His sister came into focus once more. “How?” he asked. He was sure she was onto something, but he didn’t know what their options were to distract the crew.

Her eyes darted around for a long moment. Her mouth parted slightly. “The ship is steel,” she whispered.

His brow furrowed. “I know.”

“The ship is steel. If we hit anything, it’ll echo. Loudly.”

Sokka felt his expression clear like fog. “I’ll throw my boomerang.”

“No, Aanak gave you that,” she whispered harshly. Her face was lined and serious. “I’ll throw my club.”

“That won’t go very far. And it’d leave you unarmed.”

“So would throwing your boomerang!”

“Too bad, Katara.” He stuck his tongue out and withdrew the boomerang from the firebender’s throat to throw it down the hall. It hit the wall with a bang.

“Wait, it was a boomera—”

Katara clobbered the man over the head once more, and Sokka lowered him down. “Let’s go before he wakes up,” she hissed.

Sokka didn’t need to be told twice. He slid the door to the brig open to reveal two men guarding Aang. He had never looked younger to Sokka than in that moment as he sat down to meditate. He was small, especially sat behind two grown men, and his face somehow looked more childlike when it was set so seriously.

“Aang!” Katara said.

He opened one eye as if to peek. The other shot open immediately after.

“What the…” one of the guards said. He ignited a flame in his palm as the other guard unsheathed his katana.

“Don’t hurt them!” Aang said.

Sokka took a protective step in front of Katara and reached out to block her when she tried to step in front of him. He didn’t care that she was armed while he wasn’t; she was his little sister, and he would protect her.

The sword wielder's stance shifted, and Sokka braced himself for the blow. If he was going to die, he was going to die to give Katara as much time as his sacrifice could. He could face that death. He would face it.

Except the blow never came. Instead, the guard came crashing down.

Behind mangled bars, Aang stood in the position of what Sokka was sure was an airbending form with his arms outstretched and his right palm facing the sword-wielder. He carefully dragged his right foot back in line with his squared-off shoulders and pulled his right arm back. “I said not to hurt them.” Aang’s face was open and earnest, but his voice was low in warning.

“Get up, Fujiwara-san,” the firebender said. “Get up. I’m not fighting the kamioroshi alone.”

Fujiwara did not get up off the floor. His katana had clattered away from him, and there was no blood to indicate it had sliced him open or stabbed through him in the process, but he would not rise to his feet. “Be serious, Nishimura-san. There’s no way… this kid fought the kamioroshi-slayer, Fire Emperor Sozin.” His voice trembled with his shoulders.

Nishimura didn’t listen to Fujiwara. Instead, he launched into a flurry of complex firebending forms, twisting and striking with an orange hue to him from the size of the flames he produced. Aang evaded each blow with graceful twirls and bends of his lithe frame, not once letting the fire so much as nick him.

Sokka’s mouth was agape as he watched. For all Nishimura’s brute force and blitzing, it was clear from his heaving chest that he was no match for Aang who hadn’t even broken a sweat. Aang even had the audacity to give Nishimura a grin as he gestured with his hand for Nishimura to try again. Right as he ignited a flame with his foot to give an arching kick aimed at Aang’s head, Katara pushed out from behind Sokka to charge him. She clobbered him over the head with her war club the way she had the man they’d taken hostage. He went down with a loud thunk.

Sokka’s face twisted in horror at the sound. Their diversion could only have bought them so much time, and creating more noise at their actual location was sure to bring the crewmembers, including the prince, running.

“What are you guys doing here?” Aang asked, his face soft now that Nishimura was temporarily incapacitated.

“We came to save you,” Katara said emphatically. She took a step closer to Aang, hovering around him as if she were afraid he’d disappear otherwise. Sokka thought she wanted to inhale the memory of Aang, her nose to his cheek, or to engulf him in her arms, but she seemed hesitant to try.

“But they’ll come back to bother your village if I don’t go with them to the Empire of Fire,” Aang said.

Nishimura stirred, and Katara kicked him to keep him down.

“Argue later! We have to go! Now,” Sokka said. “There’s no way they didn’t hear all this commotion!” He grabbed Katara by the hand, gave her a look so she’d grab Aang’s hand, and started running. He barely felt the burn in his lungs and legs. 

All he could think of was the weight of his sister’s hand in his, the boy behind her, and the flying bison waiting for them to return to him. The future of the war was holding onto Katara like a lifeline, and Sokka would not let either of them drown.

---

Zuko’s attempt at meditation was interrupted by the clamoring coming from his ship, Inari. While it was not uncommon for her to make strange noises,—noises that had frightened Zuko early into his banishment, made him think that he was going to drown like the two executed Fire Empress Consorts of his great-grandfather, Fire Emperor… something or another—this was not one of the noises he had grown used to over the years. 

He opened his eyes and rose to his feet. The gleam of his armor caught his eye, but he had no one to help him put it on. He could forgo his armor to investigate the sounds he was hearing. His father had told him once that a truly great firebender didn’t need armor at all and instead wore it only to represent his country.

Zuko had listened. He would be great, and he would not rely on his armor.

He thumped his chest once as he had seen warriors do. Then, he was off.

There were some of his men, running toward the sound. He stopped one—Jee, he thought the man was called.

“What happened?” Zuko asked.

Jee made as if he was bracing himself. “The avatar escaped.”

Zuko’s fingertips smoked. His mouth curled into a snarl. “He what? ”

“… Escaped the brig, Zuko-san.”

He couldn’t even bring himself to spew out an order about how he was a prince and would be called as such. Zuko slammed Jee into the wall and stalked through the corridor. He could feel his inner flame growing. It hissed and spat within him, coiling and uncoiling like a dragon. His head was ringing with his father’s voice.

Zuko was a failure of a prince, a waste of a firstborn son. He had earned his exile, and he could not wash himself clean of it. His father’s disappointment clung to him like smoke. It was embedded in the essence of his soul. It had forged him into the boy he was today—the boy who had not been permitted to become a man of the court over the last winter solstice.

If the avatar was allowed to escape Inari, he would never be a man in the eyes of his country. He would never reverse his exile at this rate.

In the distance—“Wait, what about your boomerang?” Was that the peasant girl who had been with the avatar? Was she talking to the fool who had hit him with something? He could only barely understand Imiqtitut as it hadn’t been one of the languages taught to him at the Imperial Fire Academy for Boys and his studies of it had been short, but it sounded as if they’d lost something.

“Katara, we don’t have time to get that back.” He supposed that Katara might be the girl’s name. He wasn’t sure, though.

“But Aanak gave it to you! It’s a family heirloom!”

“Wait, you have a boomerang? How did a Northern Air Nomad tool become a family heirloom amongst the Water People?” That was the avatar. Zuko was sure of that.

“The Water People? Not southern?”

“We don’t have time! We have to go before they kill us! I’d like to live! You know, that thing we’re always doing?”

“Right. Sorry.”

Zuko followed the voices up to the deck. It was dark ahead, but he thought he saw the twinkle of stars in the sunless sky and the outline of three figures exiting. He slid the door open himself and slipped through its threshold. In one swift motion, he lit up the surroundings with the orange of his flames, carrying them like something precious in his palms.

They froze where they stood.

“Going somewhere, Avatar?” Zuko asked roughly.

The avatar turned to face him. “Prince Zuko,” he said, “I was just wondering where the restroom is. My friends here were showing me the way.” He was smiling dopily.

Zuko would burn that smile off his face. He sent a barrage of flames toward the avatar who dodged with infuriating ease. He flipped and side-stepped and smiled the whole way through without even attacking Zuko once.

The girl raised the club she was holding and took a threatening step forward.

He threw a ball of fire at her that she narrowly ducked to avoid with a yelp.

“Don’t touch my sister!” the older boy said, his teeth glaring and his body tense.

The avatar’s smile dropped from his face. “Your fight is with me,” he said. “Leave them both out of this.”

The door slid open with a bang behind them. Zuko didn’t bother turning to see his crew enter the deck.

“And your fight is with us,” Zuko said.

“Fine by me,” the avatar said. He stepped forward and into an elaborate kata, his arms moving almost as if he were going to lightningbend.

Zuko froze. There was no way the avatar could lightningbend. He couldn’t have mastered the art before the Heavenly War began, and it was a technique that was sacred in his country, descended from Susanoo and made for only those with his blood in their veins. There was no lightningbender who would’ve taught the avatar to split his ki and turn it to electricity. And yet his arms moved in the motions of one creating a storm.

Static did not gather all around, but breath did not leave Zuko’s lungs once more for the air around him was stirring into a whirlwind. He had never fought an airbender as the survivors of the Battles at the Air Temples had either gone into hiding or been taken prisoner eventually by the Empire of Fire. He had no idea how he or his men could counter such a move. The only one onboard who might was his uncle, but when Zuko looked behind him, he did not see Iroh amongst the men.

Was he taking another nap? Now of all times?

The whirlwind was let loose. Zuko stumbled to the railing to clutch it as his crew went sliding about the deck, yelling disjointed expletives.

Zuko’s functioning eye narrowed as he watched the avatar and his companions fled Inari, jumping over the railing, but the splashes he was expecting with their escape never came. Instead, they rose in the air on the damned beast that the avatar had ridden into the village. He caught the brown eyes of the avatar and glared as the avatar’s whirlwind left his ship and heaved into a nearby pillar of ice and snow that came crumbling onto the deck of Inari.

He cursed his luck, piss poor as ever. They would have to stop in Ketu Harbor to repair any damage done. How would he explain such damage without giving away the identity of the boy who caused it?

The snow around him melted as he buried his face in his hands.

“Oigo-kun? What happened?”

Zuko let out a muffled scream.

---

On Appa’s saddle, Aang let Katara comb over his form with worry. He felt awfully warm as she hovered centimeters away from him, her mitten-clad hands holding his face to better appraise his nonexistent injuries.

“I’m okay, Katara—really. They didn’t hurt me. I promise,” he said. He could tell his face was blowsy. He hoped Katara and Sokka would attribute it to the kiss of the cold.

“You’re sure?” she asked, not releasing his face.

“Positive,” he said with a nod.

At last, Katara relinquished her hold on him. He couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as she retreated to a respectable distance away from him on Appa.

“I’m fine too, Katara. Thanks for checking,” Sokka said.

“I know you’re fine. I was with you the whole time,” she said with a huff.

Sokka gasped indignantly. Aang snickered.

For a long moment, there was a peaceful quiet as they were all hit with the reality of what they’d done. They burst into breathless laughter together. They had… well, Aang wasn’t really sure what they’d done. The Empire of Fire certainly wouldn’t be happy about it. But… 

“What happened to the airbenders?” he asked. “Why is the Empire of Fire hunting down the avatar?”

Sokka and Katara exchanged grave looks.

“Please,” Aang said. “I need to know. How long was I in the iceberg?”

Katara spoke first. “Aang… should I call you Lobsang, actually? That’s what you said your name was when that—that prince asked.”

“You can call me Aang. It’s what Nanurjuk calls me.” He didn’t want to correct himself. He didn’t want to imagine that the days when Nanurjuk called him Aang were over now.

“What do you… what do you remember? From before?” Sokka asked.

“Nyima and I were… traveling. We took her sky bison, Appa, and we were going to Ember Island for a little while. A week or two maybe. Then we were gonna come home,” Aang said.

“And Ember Island would have been… safe for you to visit?” Sokka asked.

Aang nodded.

Katara’s eyes were liquid. They were the purest blue Aang had ever seen on any waterbender. “The world—was it at peace?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Aang asked. “I mean, Avatar Roku was assassinated a while before I was born, and the Great Earth States were still warring, but Đất Nam was still free, and the Water People and Three Kingdoms of Earth were fine. The Empire of Fire was our friend! The Southern Air Nomad monastics were going to meet with Fire Emperor Sozin in a few days! Our world was in balance.”

With his every word, Katara and Sokka’s faces had fallen a little more.

“Aang, Sozin isn’t the Fire Emperor anymore. He ruled four generations ago,” Katara said.

“No, that can’t be right,” Aang said. His voice cracked on the last word.

“It is. And that meeting… his men attacked the Air Nomads. At every temple. The Empire of Fire massacred them,” Sokka said. “It’s been almost ninety-nine years since then.”

Aang wrapped his arms around himself. This couldn’t be real. His people couldn’t be dead. The Empire of Fire wouldn’t do that. Even if the Great Earth States were warring with each other, the world was at peace—why would anyone disrupt it?

“The Water People split after the genocide on your people. Our people came down south to look for survivors. We got trapped in the South Pole eventually by the Empire of Fire, and they began to raid us, taking our waterbenders, shaman, and elders as well as the survivors we were sheltering,” Katara said. Her voice was soft. Kind. 

Aang didn’t want to hear it right now. He wanted his own sky bison, Sonam. He wanted Nyima. He wanted Gyatso. He wanted his people, his culture, all of it. He would hold them closer this time. He wouldn’t leave them vulnerable again.

He wouldn’t take the avatar from them again.

“Is there anything we can do?” Sokka asked. He sounded hopeless.

Aang trembled. He was alone. He was all alone. Nyima was gone, and it was his fault.

“Would it help if we… if we took you to the Southern Air Temple? So you could say goodbye?” Katara asked.

Aang inhaled sharply. He couldn’t be sure, but he nodded anyway. He needed to see it for himself.

---

Azula had perfected her oral report on military history several nights prior. Still, she was spending her morning before lessons in the Heavenly War of Tranquility section of the Imperial Library instead of at breakfast with her father or on the Imperial Training Grounds. She had told her handmaiden to report to her father that she was reviewing the information for her oral report. Lying to him was easiest if Azula didn’t have to look at him to do it. Without his scrutiny, then Azula could bend the truth into whatever shape she wanted. It was a malleable thing so long as her father was not there to twist her arm over it. This was a lie she could not be caught in.

If her father knew that she was researching the Air Nation to find more information about airbender survivors of the Battles at the Air Temples—Azula wouldn’t think about that. There was no reason for her father to discover what she was truly up to. Not when she had kept her intentions solely to herself and the Fire Sages could not divulge her alleged identity to him without violating their sacred vows. 

She would survive. She would inherit. She would succeed.

She was not the avatar.

Realistically, Azula knew that the avatar must have perished alongside the majority of the Air Nation Army. The cycle of reincarnation could not be broken, and so the avatar must have been reincarnated as a waterbender forty-nine days after. That waterbender had probably died some time afterward and would now be reincarnated in earthbender country.

Technically, it was possible the waterbender avatar had died in one of the Raids of the Southern Water Tribe. Depending on which raid, the avatar could have died already as an earthbender and have reincarnated as a firebender.

The thought made Azula’s stomach curl. Her inner flame was licking at her throat as it jumped in discomfort. She couldn’t be the avatar. It was unlikely that two consecutive avatars had had their lives cut short enough that the earthbender avatar could have died thirteen years prior.

It was also unlikely that the airbender avatar had survived the Battles at the Air Temples, but surely that was more probable than a scion of Amaterasu and Agni being the very soul who had betrayed her nation and thus the world. Really, there was no chance that Azula could seriously be the avatar. Mai’s uncle had been mistaken. Perhaps he had misread the documents. Mai spoke highly of her family as anyone should, but Azula had heard Ukano whisper of his oldest brother’s ineptitude and clumsiness before.

Though the thought soothed both her inner flame and the lines of her brow, Azula did not exit the Imperial Library until it was time for her to leave for her first lessons of the day. Until she had no other choice but to do so.

---

The ships that lined the water of Ketu Harbor loomed over Inari as it was docked for repairs. Iroh had never liked the ship his honorable younger brother had assigned to Zuko for his exile. It was one of the most rickety, unreliable vessels in the entire Imperial Navy, and it was certainly dated. It was the type of cruiser Iroh had studied in the academy, used only at the very beginning of the war. Privately, Iroh thought it a miracle that the ship still ran at all, let alone that it had carried them for so long.

Privately, Iroh thought a lot of things, but a wise man did not indulge his tongue to its fullest, and so he did not voice his thoughts except in fractions, halved over and over again until only the most attentive of listeners could piece together his truest intentions. Until even they could not accuse him of harboring these intentions. His nephew had yet to discover this truth, but he held the boy in nothing but adoration regardless. After all, he was the one disguising himself as a foolish old man.

He was not that old, but, with the gray of his hair and the lines creasing his face, he could more than pass for the part if he rambled on about things such as the strategy of pai sho and the philosophy behind haiku.

However, his half-nephew, Commander Yōmei, seemed to hold this as a point of contention within their relationship. As Iroh watched Yōmei approach him and Zuko with predator’s teeth hidden behind a pleasant close-mouthed smile, he knew it would be the most prominent today. Yōmei had been born within four years of Iroh and, as a result, had not been spared any of Iroh’s adolescent arrogance and childhood cruelties. He had been the one to first taunt Yōmei calling him his foreign forefathers’ clan name: Zhao. He had been the one who had dismissed Yōmei as a waste of oxygen and flame in the walls of the Imperial Palace in their shared youth. Perhaps those cruelties were what had sewn the seeds of the monstrous man who stood before Iroh and Zuko, pretending he hadn’t smiled with satisfaction when he had bid them farewell at the beginning of Zuko’s exile.

“Oji-san, my cousin, it is good to see you both,” Yōmei said, bowing respectfully.

“You as well, Yōmei-kun,” Iroh bowed back. He carried royal blood in his veins which he could not set down, but he saw no reason why it ought to stop him from being well-mannered. 

Zuko disagreed. He did not so much as nod his head at Yōmei. “Zhao,” he said in lieu of a greeting. His tongue was sharp as were his eyes. He had grown terribly rude since his exile began, but Iroh would not hold it against his nephew; with the shroud of anger blinding him, how could Iroh expect him to see the light?

“Zuko,” Yōmei said. His lips parted enough that the outline of the sharpest point of his teeth was visible.

Iroh felt his own expression darken. While he understood that his nephew could be callous to Yōmei, he could not forgive the contempt Yōmei had carried for the boy from the moment of his first sparks. It was true that Zuko had been removed from the line of succession and had his title revoked, but he was not ready to face that truth, and so Iroh did all he could to protect him from it. “I was unaware that Ozai-kun had stationed you here. What a pleasant surprise,” he said. His voice was jovial but his eyes were sharp as they had been in his youth.

“Indeed. To what do I owe the pleasure, Iroh-san?” Yōmei asked.

“Ah, we have run into problems with Inari,” Iroh said.

“I see…” Yōmei’s eyed the ship.

In his peripheral, Iroh could see Zuko’s form tense. He could offer no comfort to the boy now, though. Not without giving away that there was anything for Zuko to be tense about.

“We were down south and ran into some rather difficult weather,” he said with a laugh.

“Yes, of course,” Yōmei said. Disbelief clung to his words like sticky rice to chopsticks. “Well, while you’re both here, let me treat you to a meal. I would be remiss to not take this opportunity to see how exile has treated you both.”

Zuko’s whole face twitched, but Iroh did not give him the opportunity to act on his anger, accepting the invitation as though it were nothing short of sincere. As though he were not a dragon entering a rat viper’s den.

---

The Southern Air Temple was empty now. Aang felt spectral; he was haunting the spaces he had once laughed within, dined within, loved within. It was almost depraved to be here, breathing the air that he had watched bent over and over again before. It was almost sickening to be alive in the after.

He hated to split time that way, but there was only before—his childhood, his innocence, his community—and after—the war, the burden, the lies.

“This was where they shaved our heads,” he said. It was painful to speak. It had been painful to be quiet too. It was a pain that would occupy silence and sound alike. It was a pain that was bigger than him and could not be set down. “Nyima always got sad when they shaved my head. She said she liked the feeling of running her hands over the stubble. I thought it was scratchy, but for her, that was the appeal.”

There were no remains here. The same could not be said of the rest of the Air Temple. He had passed over many, and he had been horrified to discover the shallow graves dug by Fire Emperor Sozin’s men. His people did not practice earth burials; the act went against their culture, and it perverted the genocide of the Air Nomads even further. Alongside Katara and Sokka, Aang had spent hours of this day unburying his people. Without wooden boxes, they could not give the dead the proper cliffside burials his culture practiced, but he could place them somewhere more respectful. 

He could not give them what they deserved in death, and he could not bring them back to his side, but he would try to give their spirits closure. He had to try. There was no one else to try.

The thought brought him to tears once more. His cheeks were wet, and his eyes glazed. Gyatso had told him once that to cry was to bleed. Aang had never felt more like an open wound than in this moment. He did not know that the feeling would ever pass. He did not want it to.

If the feeling passed, then the last thing he had of his people passed with it. Their pain was all he had left to hold onto.

Katara’s mouth and nose pressed to his wet cheeks. She inhaled softly. He was too tired to blush at the proximity and the intimacy of it. He was only familiar with kunik from witnessing it done by the members of the Water People he had known before, but he could not deny the comfort of it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her nose to his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

Though hugs had not been common practice amongst the Southern Air Nomads, he found himself falling into her hold. He found himself shuddering as Sokka wrapped his arms around both of them too.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka whispered.

Aang found his own heart mirrored in them both. There had been a cremation of their culture and their people too. They carried with them the same suffering as him. He could not wash them or himself of it. He could only simmer in it alongside them.

At long last, they untangled themselves from each other’s holds.

“Can I tell you about… about them?” Aang asked.

“Of course,” Sokka said.

“Start wherever you want,” Katara said. “We’ll follow.”

Aang inhaled deeply. He tried to calm the burning of his eyes and throat enough to speak more about his people, and he started with his parents and their deaths from fever. He started with the beginning, but he would tell them of the community that raised him—of Nyima, of Gyatso, of everyone he had ever loved.

“They loved you too,” Sokka interjected.

Aang looked at him, brown eyes still wet and huge, and he said, “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did to them.”

“We don’t need to know that,” Katara said. “They loved you too. How could they not?”

---

Mai sat with Azula, away from the prying eyes of aristocratic girls who had been unable or unwilling to win Azula’s favor over the course of their education. They always sat like this nowadays: alone and isolated from their classmates. Ever since the final person to join their group—their secret society, Azula had called it—had run away from Heian-kyō, they were alone together, for, in her absence, her twin sister saw no reason to join them, and neither did her friends.

It was fine by Mai. She was not close with any of the other girls in their class or their year. She never had seen a reason to know them when Azula occupied so much of her time. Even when Azula had initiated a fifth member into their so-called secret society, Mai had been reluctant to grow close with her. She hadn’t seen why she needed anyone other than Azula and Zuko and their friend, Asahi. She had barely seen why she needed Asahi.

Now all she had was Azula. 

Asahi might still be in Heian-kyō, but he was something separate from them now. He was a man while they were girls. He could have all the betrothal contracts and titles his father wanted him to be bestowed, but his personal name was an enemy at the gates of Azula’s mouth while Mai’s given name had long lived there.

“Remember how we used to make fun of Ty—Saionji’s gray eyes?” Azula asked suddenly. It had been many months since either of them had acknowledged Ty Lee in any capacity. 

Mai wondered vaguely if Azula was as acutely aware of this as she was. From the slip of her tongue, the reluctance to speak Ty Lee’s given name, the white of her knuckles as she held her chopsticks, Mai thought she must be. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “What was it her one sister used to say about it? The one who hated you the least—Ty Woo?” Ty Woo was Ty Lee’s twin, and she was the only one of the six Saionji sisters aside from Ty Lee who had ever tolerated Azula for more than minutes at a time.

Azula’s face flickered. For a moment, Mai feared she had said the wrong thing. Then: “She said that Saionji had gray eyes because she was adopted from a nice airbender family.”

Mai’s own eyes crinkled as she laughed at the memory. “And Saionji almost believed her too. Like they aren’t practically identical,” she said. There was too much fondness in her voice. She would swallow it whole before the next time she opened her mouth.

“Yes,” Azula said dismissively. If Mai didn’t hate how mercurial Azula could be, she would feel apologetic. “Who was it in her family that raped the Air Nation woman?” Her tone was displeased as if she had smelled something particularly acrid, and her eyes were sharpened into blades, but the rest of her was iron-hearted.

Mai suddenly felt somewhat sick. Ever since she turned old enough to understand these such things, she found she hated to think about them. “I don’t remember.”

“I think it was her grandfather. One of her older sisters, Ty Liu, said they were only a quarter Air Nation, so it must have been him.” It was as if Azula had not heard her speak at all.

Mai said nothing.

Azula continued on. “Yes, it was her grandfather. The woman must have been the offspring of airbender fugitives harbored by the Southern Water Tribe. Saionji’s grandfather was one of the Southern Raiders, after all. Of course—I knew that some of the Air Nation citizens survived the Battles at the Air Temples.” There was something self-satisfied about her now. She was pleased with her deduction.

Mai did not share this sentiment. She picked up her lunch and carried it to the nearby trash.

“Not hungry?” Azula called after her.

“You’re a terrible conversationalist,” Mai said. “Too macabre.”

Azula shrugged unapologetically. “You usually stomach it better.”

It was true, Mai supposed, but this was different. This was not the gory details of a military battle recounted over tea that had become mundane. This was a woman’s suffering. Mai could not sit through Azula treating it like an arithmetic problem to be solved.

---

There was a long silence when Aang finished telling them of his people. Of how Nyima was his best friend and Gyatso was something like a father figure even if he was close with all the monastics he had been raised by. There were no words that Katara could soothe his pain with. She knew that as she knew that there were no words her people’s pain could be soothed with.

Still, she tried. “We’re here,” she said. “We’re not going anywhere. No matter what.”

“We can’t bring them back, but we can help you end the war. We can make sure the Empire of Fire never does this to anyone else again,” Sokka said. There was a conviction in his eyes Katara had not seen in years.

“He’s right. We’re your people now, Aang. We can never replace what they stole from you, but Sokka and I… we’ll help you end the war and revive your culture. Us being your people won’t mean you lose your identity,” Katara said.

Aang sniffled. “There’s something you should know,” he said. “I’m not—”

Sokka’s stomach rumbled. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I think I need to eat.”

“Oh, no,” Katara said, “we forgot to bring food.”

“Wait, I—” Aang tried.

“You have food?” Sokka asked. “I’d even eat sea prunes right now.”

Aang’s mouth parted. His cheeks were still wet, but the tears had stopped falling. “No…” he said.

“I’ll go hunting for me and Katara then. You two go gathering—since Aang’s a vegetarian,” Sokka said. With that, he wandered off, armed with only Katara’s club.

“Sorry about him,” she said. “He gets single-minded about food. He’s not trying to be insensitive or anything.”

“No, it’s fine,” Aang said. “I could use a break from—” He cut himself off with a short nod.

She nodded. She understood how exhausting grief could be. If Aang needed a reprieve, she’d make sure he had it. “So… any chance you know where there’d be anything we could gather to eat?”

Aang offered a smile, and he got up to guide her to wherever they could gather something edible. Before they could get very far, though, Sokka’s voice rang out from across the way: “I found dinner!” Footsteps padded over, and Sokka himself came into sight, holding a lemur of sorts.

“That’s not a lot of meat,” Katara said, her hands on her hips.

“It’s a winged lemur!” Aang said. “You can’t eat him!”

“His death won’t be in vain. We use the whole animal, right, Katara?” Sokka’s eyebrows danced on his face.

“There’s not a lot of animal to use there,” she said skeptically. “And isn’t it kind of… wrong to eat a flying lemur? I mean, what if he’s endangered?”

Aang nodded sagely from beside her. “Yeah! Exactly! Plus he’s really cute.”

Katara smiled. “He is pretty cute, isn’t he?”

Sokka huffed.

“Don’t worry, Sokka! We won’t separate you from your buddy. We can take him as a pet—I can name him Momo!” Aang said. There was a smile on his face again, even if it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“That’s a horrible idea,” Sokka said. “We can’t even feed ourselves, and you want us to feed a lemur.”

Katara elbowed him violently. She gave him a sharp look and gestured around them at the abandoned Air Temple.

He swore under his breath. “Did you say his name was Momo?”

Aang nodded. The smile hadn’t left his face.

---

It was halfway into the meal with his wretched family that one of the men under his command, Hata Yamato, asked to speak with Yōmei. He excused himself as politely as he could and followed Hata out of earshot.

“Well?” Yōmei prompted.

Hata glanced around to be sure they would go unheard by outsiders. “Commander Yōmei, the damage was caused by an airbender boy who identified himself as the avatar,” he said.

A smile pulled at the corners of Yōmei’s mouth.

“Zuko had him captive for a while before two savages from the Southern Water Tribe sneaked onboard. They helped the avatar escape,” Hata said.

“That is… most interesting,” Yōmei said. “I’ll return to my meal now. I’m sure my family will be curious about what’s keeping me.”

He walked back to the dining table and resumed his seat across from Iroh and Zuko both. Removing his chopsticks from their holder, he apologized for the intrusion into their meal. He would toy with them as he saw fit. Iroh had spent their childhoods tormenting him, and he would gladly return the favor now. If that torment was so fortunate as to target the bratty former prince too, then Yōmei would relish in it all the more.

They ate in silence.

Zuko stabbed furiously with his chopsticks. It was quite rude, and it made Yōmei smile a wolf dog’s smile. He knew that with each passing moment, Zuko was growing more and more uncomfortable.

Good. Anger suited the former prince. He had been a sniveling little thing the last time Yōmei had seen him, weak-willed and soft-hearted but still expecting the world to fawn over him as if there was anything worthwhile about him. It had been truly pathetic. His anger was a welcomed change; it kept things refreshing for Yōmei, even as his own inner flame flickered with a simmering contempt at every utterance of the name Zhao.

“How was the Southern Water Tribe?” Yōmei asked at last.

Zuko’s movements came to a halt.

Iroh paused, but he kept his cards closer to his chest than his nephew knew how to. “Ah, yes. I mentioned that we stopped down there earlier. Unfortunately, this time of year there is little to see with the sun in retirement down that way. Still, the people were certainly interesting if not welcoming,” he said. He punctuated his statement with a slow sip of his hōjicha.

“No, I suppose wrecking a ship is not something hospitable people do,” Yōmei said. He did not so much as look up from his meal. He did not have to; he knew that Zuko and Iroh had grown tenser with his accusation.

“They didn’t—” Zuko was cut off by something Yōmei could not see. From the slight movement of Iroh’s shoulder, he would perhaps guess it had been Iroh’s hand on his knee.

“Where did you get such an idea, Yōmei-kun?” Iroh asked.

“I’m glad you asked, Iroh-san. You see, while we have been enjoying this little… family reunion, my men have interrogated Zuko’s crew. Hata-san pulled me aside to relay their findings to me,” Yōmei said.

“And your findings?” Iroh asked. His voice was pleasant as was his face, but Yōmei could see in his eyes the whisper of fear, the scintillation of anger.

For that, Yōmei’s smile widened. “You have discovered the avatar, but of course, you failed to keep him in your custody. I’m sure your sister would have been able to capture and escort the avatar back to your father was she in your shoes, but I suppose that’s the difference between the two of you, the reason she is the heir while you are the spare, Zuko.”

Zuko jumped to his feet, rattling the table completely. “Zhao, you know nothing of my sister or of my father’s intentions! You know nothing of my family! I am my father’s son, and if I caught the avatar, I’d have no problems keeping him captive as Chichi-ue tasked me to do!”

While he simmered under the surface at the implication that he was not a part of that very family, Yōmei yawned at the display. “Your men were very willing to betray you, you know. They told Hata-san everything almost immediately. The only reason it took so long was that they wanted to ensure he knew every detail. They must loathe you.”

“That’s it! I challenge you to an Agni Kai!” Zuko said.

Iroh dropped his teacup at the words. It shattered onto the table.

Yōmei just laughed. “Only honorable men can challenge each other to Agni Kai. For you to challenge me is preposterous.”

“Do not question my honor, Zhao!” Zuko said, bending down to grip Yōmei’s shoulders. His short nails dug into the leather plates of armor worn there.

“I cannot question what does not exist, Zuko. Anyway, family shouldn’t fight Agni Kai. Don’t you agree, Iroh-san?” Yōmei asked, not allowing himself to appear at all shaken by Zuko’s volatile temperament.

Iroh’s mouth thinned. When he opened it to speak, Yōmei could see the white of his teeth glaring with every word. “Yōmei, you would do well to remember it is royalty that you speak to.”

“I was born to the same family as the two of you; my blood is as good as Zuko’s,” Yōmei said evenly.

“That may be the case, but there is only one of you that has ever been recognized in the line of succession. I believe we have outstayed our welcome now. I bid you farewell, Yōmei. Come with me, Oigo-kun,” Iroh said.

Yōmei had rarely hated him more.

---

With her posture as regal as ever, Azula stood at the front of the classroom in her military history lesson. It was her last lesson of the day, and she was to give her oral report at last. She was more than prepared. She was excellence embodied.

“The first battles of the Heavenly War of Tranquility were fought at the Air Temples in the north, south, east, and west. These four battles took place in the Imperial Year 2936 on the ninth day of the Long Month. My great-great-grandfather, Fire Emperor Sozin, led the battle at the Eastern Air Temple. However, our men were not sent to the Air Temples with the intent to fight. Rather, they were sent to offer the Air Nation an opportunity to share in the prosperity of the Great Empire of Fire. Each meeting was set to occur at the same time in each Air Temple so as to give the leaders of each facet of the Air Nation the opportunity to individually consider what Fire Emperor Sozin was offering them. 

“However, the Air Nation betrayed him and attacked our men, firebenders and nonbenders alike. The avatar, once a symbol of peace and harmony within our world, had plotted against our country. Though they were young, they were already a Master Airbender and harbored horrible ambitions of a future where instead of living peacefully alongside each other, the Air Nation ruled the globe. 

“Not much was successfully recorded of the details surrounding the actual battles other than that the Air Nation Army refused to back down, even when Fire Emperor Sozin was generous enough to offer them their lives in exchange for their surrender. Instead, they fought fiercely and crudely against our soldiers. While they had brute force and a home-field advantage on their side, our men were ultimately better trained. Though many of our brave soldiers lost their lives that day, they were ultimately able to triumph over the wicked Air Nation.

“The avatar, however, has not been seen since. It is unclear whether or not they were amongst the fallen or they escaped with supreme cowardice, but regardless, they have been too cowardly to continue their attack upon peace so long as the Great Empire of Fire has continued its fight for worldwide harmony,” Azula said.

The classroom applauded her.

She met Mai’s moonlight eyes, and her red lips curled into a smirk.

“Perfect marks as always, Your Imperial Highness,” her teacher, Chikamiya Tamiko, said. “You did wonderfully.”

“Thank you, Chikamiya-sensei,” Azula said.

“The rest of you could stand to take a page from Princess Azula’s page,” Chikamiya said as the applause finally died down.

“Yeah, if we want to learn to get rewarded for being a weirdo just because we’re royalty,” a girl mumbled.

The class collectively tensed. 

Azula felt her smirk double in size as she watched Chikamiya look around the room to discern who had spoken. She knew immediately who it was as did Mai, judging from the way a kunai went whizzing past Nohara Sayaka, pinning a clump of her half-up hair to the wall of the classroom.

Nohara made a shrill sound of utter horror.

“Those without honor shouldn’t grow their hair so long to start with,” Mai said coolly. She hooked her finger in the ring at the tail end of a second kunai and spun it with little care.

Nohara spluttered something barely coherent. Azula thought she caught Mai’s surname and the words “can’t do this,” but she didn’t care enough to ask Nohara to repeat herself as she headed back to her seat.

For her part, Chikamiya did nothing but sigh. There were no rules against weapons in the classroom due to the military nature of their schooling, and Mai could not be punished for defending the honor of the princess regardless. Chikamiya should be getting used to it by now, really.

Azula did not let her smirk fall from her face as the rest of her classmates gave their reports on various battles from history. No matter how trite their approach or dull the battle was, her good mood would not be shaken.

Finally, their class was dismissed. Azula strolled out of the classroom, knowing that Mai would follow after her so they could talk. When she heard the unmistakable sound of Mai’s footsteps at her side, she began. “Nohara should thank you, Mai. You did her a favor. Though, she would look better if you were to even her hair out for her now.”

Mai laughed lightly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Only if you did it,” Azula said. “Are you walking with me?”

“Your palanquin carriers do take you the way I go,” Mai said. The corners of her lips were turned up. Whatever the state of the outside world, their world was at peace. Not even the faintest chance that Azula was the avatar could ruin that.

Notes:

additional cw: referenced rape, intense discussions of genocide

to clear any possible confusion about this, yomei is zhao's personal name. zhao is the clan name of his great-great-grandfather who was foreign to the empire of fire

Chapter 3: Misnomer (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this one's long. oops.

gays win this chapter though. so do straight people but.

“I’m just saying! Đất Nam has waterbenders! They could teach you, Katara,” Aang said, intentionally omitting himself from that equation. He had been trying to convince Katara and Sokka that they should stop there since they’d first spotted the peninsula a few days prior. They’d stayed in the Southern Air Temple longer than they should have, and he felt guilty for the detour even if Katara and Sokka insisted he shouldn’t.

“Again, it’s in earthbender country,” Sokka said.

“And didn’t you say the name meant south of earth in tiếng Đất?” Katara asked. Her pronunciation was abysmal, but Aang sympathized. Tiếng Đất was a tonal language, and it differed greatly from the languages that Katara and Sokka spoke. “Why would there be waterbenders in a country named after earth?”

Aang puffed his cheeks out. “It’s named that because the Great Earth States colonized it way back when! It’s a misnomer! And, technically, đất also means like… soil,” he said, craning around from Appa’s neck to look at them both

Sokka stared at him, unimpressed and seemingly unaware of Momo mimicking his expression from the top of his head. “You are so not helping your argument.”

“Look, Katara needs to learn to waterbend, right?” Aang asked.

“So do you,” she said.

He grimaced slightly. “Well, what’s closer? Đất Nam or the Northern Water People?”

“Okay, but Đất Nam is colonized territory, and the North Pole isn’t,” Sokka said.

“It’s also on the other side of the world!” Aang said. “Appa needs to rest eventually, and deserted islands haven’t been the best place for that! People don’t inhabit those islands for a reason, guys.” 

They all shuddered at the memory of the last island they’d stopped at. 

“Plus, the culture of Đất Nam is amazing. It’s a really beautiful place!” Aang said.

“Yeah, before the Empire of Fire took it over,” Sokka scoffed. He had that pained look on his face again. The one Aang had witnessed when they’d arrived in Amarok Akuq and again at the Southern Air Temple. It made Aang’s heart ache for him.

“How about this? We’ll stop there just for a rest, look around to see if I’m right and if there are still waterbenders there, and then we can leave for the North Pole again. Please?” Aang said, jutting his lower lip out. He hoped his pout was silly enough to take Sokka’s mind off of his hurting.

Katara spoke first. “All right. A day or two to rest won’t hurt if we just hide out.”

“I guess not,” Sokka said.

Releasing the reins for a moment, Aang pumped his fist in the air in celebration. They were nearing the northernmost coast of the country, and he’d been running out of time to convince Katara and Sokka to stop there despite the risk. He couldn’t believe he’d finally convinced them to agree.

He couldn’t believe he still hadn’t been able to tell them he wouldn’t be able to learn waterbending too.

He had no idea how to break the news that he was not the avatar to them, though. Especially not when Katara looked at him like that—like he had hung the moon for her, like he could end the war for them all. It made him want to be the person she had been hoping for. It made him not want to shatter that hope.

Aang knew it was wrong to lie to Katara and Sokka. He knew that the longer he waited to tell them the truth, the madder they’d be when he came clean. Still, every time he had tried to tell them, he hadn’t been able to. Whether he was interrupted or lost his nerve, the truth wouldn’t come out of him.

It would be even worse, he knew, when he told them he had killed the avatar. 

Nyima’s death was his fault. The avatar’s holy blood was on his hands, and they had not been seen since he had taken Nyima away from their home. Selfishly, Aang didn’t want a new incarnation of the avatar; he wanted his best friend back. He didn’t want someone with her spirit. He wanted Nyima and her determined eyes, her brash jokes, and her lopsided smiles. No one could ever replace her in his heart. No one should replace her while his heart still beat in his chest.

They had only been children when they’d left for Ember Island. 

He desperately wanted to be a child again.

Aang shook his head as Appa began their descent, using the clouds as cover to land in the outskirts of a town bordering a bay Aang thought he might recognize as the capital, Vịnh Hạ Long.

“Okay, step one: steal some clothes,” Sokka said, holding up one finger.

Momo did the same.

“But stealing is wrong,” Aang said.

“If we don’t steal, we’ll stand out,” Katara said. “I don’t love it, but I’d rather not be arrested.”

“And killed,” Sokka said.

“Sokka!” she said, smacking his arm.

Sokka nursed his bruising bicep and sucked his teeth for a moment. Then, Aang could see something in him switch. “Okay, I’ll steal the clothes. Katara, you work as the diversion. Aang, stay hidden ‘cause your Master Airbender whatever tattoos could give us away. Team Avatar on three?” He stuck his hand out.

Katara placed hers on top of his. She looked up at Aang, wide-eyed and hopeful.

Reluctantly, Aang added his hand to the pile.

“One, two, three—” Sokka counted them off.

“Team Avatar,” they whispered together.

Aang ducked behind some foliage as Katara and Sokka made their way to a nearby shop. He watched as Katara made a big scene, falling and taking down a rack of cheaply dyed olive and azure clothing with her. He couldn’t hear what was being said from this distance, but he smiled softly as Katara waved her arms about and the shopkeeper fumbled to help her. His smile dropped a fraction when he saw Sokka pluck a leaf hat out to wear and stuff linens into his parka. They looked lumpy and unnatural, and, in any other context, Aang would’ve had to stifle laughter about the sight. In this one, though, it made his heart sink. They were robbing this poor shopkeeper. Even knowing now what the Empire of Fire had done to his people, Aang couldn’t help but struggle to reconcile that genocide with people like Nakatomi Kuzon, his childhood friend. How could they be so bad that Aang, Sokka, and Katara had to steal to hide from them?

Furiously, Aang rubbed his face. He knew the Empire of Fire was evil now. He had seen how they had desecrated the remains of the people they had murdered. His heart ached for what they had stolen. From him, from his people, from Katara and Sokka, from who knew how many others.

All he had to do was adjust to this knowledge.

---

Boredom was a dangerous thing, and Azula was covered in it. She didn’t care about her fuddy-duddy uncle or his military conquests. The only reason he was the youngest person in Empire of Fire history to successfully conquer a territory was that the age of maturity had been lowered prior to his birth, allowing him to be deployed at fifteen. Maybe he’d been something of a prodigy in his heyday, but that was long over now, and Azula saw no point to further brownnosing. Certainly, she didn’t find it suitable for her education to learn more about the once-great prince. His own father hadn’t even seen fit to leave him as the crown prince after he disgraced himself. He was a washed-up fool who had willingly joined Zuko on his pointless quest to find the avatar.

Mai seemed bored in her seat as well. Her face was stone, but her eyes were heavy and lidded today. Azula knew this to mean that the older girl was, despite her rigid posture and note-taking, struggling not to fall asleep.

“In under a month, the siege came to an end when the royal family rightfully surrendered to Prince Iroh, and the Kingdom of Gaoling became the colony we know as New Azulon,” Chikamiya said. “Now who can tell me why Prince Iroh is now known as the Dragon of Death?”

Azula rolled her eyes and spoke. “Oji-san earned the moniker after he ordered the immediate royal family killed. And he can breathe fire—foreigners have a misconception that dragons are the first firebenders, hence the misassociation.”

“Correct as always, Your Imperial Highness.” There was a strained smile on her face that Azula guessed came about because of the lack of piety in her addressment of her uncle. It wasn’t like there was anything this woman could do about that, though.

“Chikamiya-sensei?” Azula asked politely.

“Yes, Princess Azula?” Chikamiya answered.

Azula’s expression shifted entirely. “When will we learn about Oji-san’s complete and utter failure at Ba Sing Se that resulted in the death of my cousin?”

Chikamiya went pale.

Out of the corner of her eye, Azula saw Mai’s eyes flutter into alertness, a suppressed smile threatening to split her mouth into something almost animated. Azula supposed that the princess speaking technically treasonous words was amusing to anyone. Even Mai.

It wasn’t like Chikamiya could do anything but splutter hopelessly about it, though. While saying such things about the Imperial House of Fire was illegal, Azula sat closer in line to the Dragon Throne than Iroh did these days, and despite public projections, her father cared very little for the man he called a brother. He surely wouldn’t reprimand Azula for speaking a reflection of his own thoughts on the subject.

“Well, Princess Azula, if you mean the Six-Hundred-Day Siege of Ba Sing Se, that lesson plan comes later in the semester as it’s more recent Great Empire of Fire history,” Chikamiya said. She was fidgeting with almost her whole body, her nervous system was alight.

Azula smiled sharply. “That’s nice, Chikamiya-sensei, but I do specifically mean the part of the siege where Oji-san’s own battle plan all but delivered the final blow on Lu Ten.”

Chikamiya’s eyes trembled. She looked like prey. It was not a new sight, but it had never been quite this bad before. “Ah, well… as Prince Lu Ten’s death ended the siege, the battle that led to his death will be taught at the end of that lesson,” she said. Shaking her head, Chikamiya desperately stammered on about whether or not anyone could tell her the significance of Iroh’s victory at New Azulon.

A folded piece of parchment was nudged against Azula’s thigh. She glanced to the girl next to her with her eyebrow cocked. It was not entirely unlike Ty Woo to pass notes in class, but she never did so to Azula.

Ty Woo jerked her head in the direction of a focused Mai who spared them no attention.

Azula opened her palm up and received the note. She unfolded it and read Mai’s tidy hiragana. “You’re going to give Chikamiya-sensei a heart attack,” it said. There was no bite to it. It was merely an observation. Mai knew better than to chastise Azula.

Azula had chosen her for a reason.

---

Sneaking into the capital of Đất Nam, apparently renamed Kakōryū-wan, had been… easier than Katara had expected. The clothing, she supposed, helped. Especially the leaf hat Sokka had stolen for Aang. In conjunction with the slightly oversized, cross-collared robe that swallowed his hands, they hid his tattoos perfectly.

The only potential problem in Katara’s mind was her blue eyes. Sokka and Aang both had warm-colored eyes, but her eyes were distinctly that of someone with waterbender heritage.

To her surprise, though, Aang had been right. While there were plenty of earthbender green eyes and neutral dark eyes to be seen, there was a distinct population of blue-eyed people in Đất Nam to help her blend in.

He was always right that it was beautiful here, but beautiful felt too small a word. It was greener than anything Katara had ever seen. It was warmer too, humid as spring blossomed around them. As much as she liked the igloos of her home, the architecture here was something else too. The only things dampening any of it were the Empire of Fire flags lining the capital and the Empire of Fire officials occupying the streets. Worst of all was the Empire of Fire factory she could see in the distance. These were the monsters responsible for stealing the language of these people, for taking their culture and forcing that of their colonizers onto them. 

They were ugly things tarnishing a beautiful place, draining it like the parasites they were.

“Okay, so we’ve gotta find a Master Waterbender to teach you guys,” Sokka said in Higo, lowering his voice on the phrase Master Waterbender.

“How do we do that?” Katara asked from the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t even think there’d be waterbenders here, let alone ones we could ask to teach us.”

Aang opened his mouth to answer, but someone else’s voice carried over.

“Tickets! Tickets! I’ve got four tickets to the water puppet show tomorrow! Free! Seriously, please, I need to get rid of these tickets.”

Aang’s eyes widened into saucers. “Have you guys ever seen a water puppet show?” he asked, bouncing on his feet.

Katara pressed her palms into his shoulders to ground him before he started doing any airbending tricks in his excitement. “No, we haven’t,” she said.

“And we really should focus on finding a teacher,” Sokka said.

“Okay, but water puppetry is amazing. I can’t believe it’s still legal since it uses waterbending, but we’re so lucky!” Aang said. “We’ve gotta go! You haven’t been to northern Đất Nam until you’ve seen a water puppet show.”

“What is water puppetry exactly?” Katara asked.

“They control puppets with waterbending to put on a show! It’s like a play,” he said.

It did sound kind of wonderful.

“It sounds like a waste of time,” Sokka said.

She elbowed him swiftly. “Aang, let’s go get some tickets.”

“You won’t regret this!” he said. “Maybe we can even find a willing teacher there!”

It was a long shot, but so was finding the utterpok. Katara would hold onto hope even if Sokka wouldn’t. She could always laugh at him when he was proven wrong. Again.

---

From under his leaf hat, Zuko looked up at the commotion across the plaza. His tawny eyes sharpened until they looked less like his mother’s and more like his father’s. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but even in Đất Nam garb, he recognized the avatar and his traveling companions. He still had the peasant boy’s boomerang to return to him, after all.

Across from him, Iroh sipped his oolong tea happily. He had been more than glad to get out of the inn they were staying at with the Inari’s crew, rambling about the tea they could get while they were here and the culture they could witness as if they weren’t on borrowed time in this territory considering the rules of Zuko’s exile. His uncle was even ignoring the avatar.

“Oji-sama,” Zuko said, “to our left. I don’t know what they’re doing, but they’re up to something. The only reason he would be in Đất Nam is to cause problems for the Great Empire of Fire.”

“That’s not true, Oigo-kun! There are many beautiful aspects of Đất Nam, especially here in Kakōryū-wan,” Iroh said.

Zuko smashed his hand down on the table. People murmured and turned to look at him. His face flushed under all the unwanted attention. “My apologies,” he said, “but even if you’re right, the avatar isn’t coming here for tourism.”

Iroh set down his teacup. “You’re probably right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do any sightseeing while we’re here.”

“Sightseeing? But, Oji-sama, we have a mission to complete,” Zuko said. “We don’t have the luxury of sightseeing right now.”

“Perhaps, but indulge an old man in a water puppet show at least,” Iroh said.

Zuko sighed and slumped back rudely. “All right.”

---

Today’s lesson schedule included an extra survival course after their military history lesson. Mai thought it was kind of dull at this point, and she knew Azula agreed. Azula never seemed to find anything challenging these days. For a while, lightningbending had been her latest trial, but it had bowed before her with more ease than anyone had anticipated. Now, there was nothing to challenge her—least of a school training exercise.

If Mai thought her life was boring, she didn’t want to imagine how Azula must feel. Training day in and day out, no matter how boring it got or how good you were at the skill you were refining, it sounded awful to Mai.

“Tell me, Mai,” Azula said suddenly, “have you not been practicing the chiji I taught you?”

Mai scoffed lightly as she let off a few poison-tipped kunai from under the sleeve of her school uniform. They hit the platypus bear attacking her and Azula. It went down with a crashing sound. “I have, but not everyone is allowed the luxury of publicly reading and writing chiji, Azula.” It was true. While it wasn’t technically illegal for aristocratic girls like herself to learn chiji, it was deeply frowned upon. The writing system was only used in the Imperial Court, and for the most part, only men had been active members of the Court. As a descendant of Amaterasu and Agni, Azula was the first girl in generations to be taught chiji.

Mai was technically the second, but no one could know that.

Azula disagreed. With a scoff, she delivered an arching kick of blue flames in the direction of a raven eagle flying at her. “If you got in trouble, all you’d have to do was blame me. I’d bail you out, of course. That’s what friends are for. And I’m the sole heir at this point; there’s nothing they could do to punish me for it,” she said as she toyed with one of her bangs.

“You think you’re so invincible—like you’re as untouchable as Ba Sing Se,” Mai said. “One day, that belief will come back to bite you.” She punctuated her point with the flat side of her tantō pressed to Azula’s throat.

She couldn't see Azula’s face with her back flushed to Mai’s front like this, but she was sure that Azula was smiling. For whatever reason, she liked when Mai did things like this.

Mai couldn’t help herself. She let the unfamiliar ache of a smile wash over her face like waves over stone.

Right as she did, Azula grabbed her hand to disarm her, sending the tantō clattering to the ground. The princess kicked up and over her shoulder, stopping centimeters short of hitting Mai square in the face. 

“I win,” she sing-songed as she brought her leg down.

“This time,” Mai grumbled. Azula almost always won, though, and every loss left Mai with a sneaking suspicion that it was intentional and pitying.

“Anyway, I’d love to see the day something did hurt me, Mai. Amaterasu knows you won’t do it, and you saw Chikamiya’s face when I badmouthed Iroh in class,” Azula said.

Used to Azula’s rudeness in private, Mai rolled her eyes. “Whatever. If we don’t hurry, people will think you’re slipping,” she said.

“I could never slip. After all, I’m Princess Azula.”

---

There was one thing Aang had not considered when he had talked Katara and Sokka into stopping in Đất Nam—aside from how he’d explain it to them if they did find a waterbending master for Katara. Where were they supposed to sleep?

“We could stay at an inn,” he suggested. “I’m sure they have some around here.”

“If we had money maybe,” Sokka said, “but Katara and I have none, and I feel like any currency you have might be outdated.” Aang thought Sokka was only a touch bitter.

“You don’t think anyone will take pity on us and let us stay in a room for free?” Aang asked.

“It’s not likely,” Katara said.

“Yeah, the free tickets were a stroke of luck. Even if these people were kind enough to keep giving us free stuff, they’d probably be more afraid of what the Empire of Fire would do to them if word got out that you’re the you-know-what,” Sokka said.

Aang’s shoulders slumped. This was his fault. He had been rash and impulsive, and now they had nowhere to sleep tonight. He kept screwing up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Katara said, gently touching Aang’s shoulder. “We can just go back to Appa and Momo to sleep tonight. They’ll keep us warm.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, though. I should’ve thought this through. I just… I wish I could provide you guys with better living conditions while we’re traveling,” Aang said. He sighed.

Katara smiled. “Really, it’s fine.”

“As long as Appa doesn’t get his fur in my mouth again, she’s right,” Sokka said.

Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be. Aang was sure of it.

He hoped.

---

Zuko could not believe he was sitting down to watch some stupid water puppet show like he was a child, but he was. He folded his arms over his chest with a huff as Iroh rubbed his hands together with anticipation. The lights in the theater dimmed, and the orchestra began to play their instruments.

… So perhaps, begrudgingly, there was some charm to the art. The set was ornate, certainly, and he supposed it was pretty how the pool of water rippled with the movements of the costumed waterbenders in the darkness. It was perhaps a little exciting to watch the lacquered puppets move in time with each pull and push of the waterbenders too, even moving their arms and letting out plumes of white smoke as they took a hit from an ornamented pipe. 

The plot wasn’t so bad either. It wasn’t a story Zuko himself knew, but the themes seemed familiar enough so far even with little dialogue to aid him. There was an outcasted young boy journeying out to sea to protect his village from an aquatic creature that attacked it. The creature had eaten his father and brought dishonor to him as he had been too much of a coward to fight back at the time, so he was rectifying this mistake and proving himself honorable after all.

Zuko could almost identify with the young boy on a quest to see his honor restored in the eyes of the village, proving his piety to his father by avenging the man.

Their seats weren’t very good, though. They’d bought them so last minute that there hadn’t been very many seats available. Zuko glanced over the rest of the audience. It was packed, save for one open seat. He waited for a degree or two and checked again. Still, no one was seated there. It was a much better seat than the ones he and Iroh occupied. He let his gaze pass over to the seats around the open one. On one side, a young boy and his older brother. On the other sat three familiar faces.

“Oji-sama, I see them. Over there, by the open seat,” he whispered.

“Not now, Oigo-kun. It would be rude to interrupt the show,” Iroh whispered back. “He will still be there when the show is over, and we can capture him without bothering the rest of the audience. Manners are important.”

Zuko’s face burned. He wasn’t so rude as to have meant he wanted to interrupt the show to capture the avatar. “I know.”

Another degree passed. Zuko’s skin was starting to itch around his bones. He had to get closer. He couldn’t let the avatar slip through his fingers again, and he couldn’t continue to enjoy the show if he watched the avatar the whole time.

He made up his mind and sneaked over to the empty seat next to the peasant boy. He said nothing as he took his seat, not wanting to alert them to his presence and relying on his leaf hat to disguise his face from the trio of fugitives.

For some time, they watched without speaking. Zuko was painfully aware of the soft sound of the peasant boy breathing to his left. His tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips. He hoped the cool sensation would bring him some comfort, but it didn’t.

Something warm but not nearly as warm as his own flesh brushed against his hand.

“Sorry,” the boy whispered, retracting his own hand. He looked at Zuko with a sheepish expression.

Reflexively, Zuko looked back.

The boy’s face twisted into a look of horror. As the protagonist of the puppet show splashed about through a storm at sea, he tapped the shoulder of the avatar repeatedly.

“Shh,” the avatar said.

“Aang, we have a problem,” the boy whispered.

“Wha—” the avatar cut himself off as he turned to look to his right. His mouth fell open silently. He tapped on the shoulder of the girl next to him.

She turned to ask what was happening and cut herself short as well.

The three of them exchanged terrified glances and scooted quietly to their collective left.

Zuko only grimaced and raised his hand to wave slightly at them.

They exchanged another set of more confused glances. The boy leaned over to whisper in decent Higo, “Why aren’t you attacking us?”

Zuko felt his face mantle once more. He leaned in to whisper back, “I wasn’t raised in a barn. It would be rude to attack you during the show.”

Dark eyes narrowed to a point. “It was rude to attack us in our village, but firebender scum like you wouldn’t care about that!” he whisper-yelled.

Zuko’s mouth ripped open to retort, but the avatar shushed them both.

“This can wait ‘til after the show,” he said from the corner of his mouth.

The girl nodded in agreement but eyed Zuko suspiciously.

Something told Zuko that this was going to be a long show. Perhaps it was all the restless fidgeting coming from the boy to his left.

---

The Imperial Gardens were, in honor of her mother’s memory, vibrant and fruitful as the late Princess Ursa had left them. Azula didn’t care for the colorful visions of foliage surrounding them or the turtle duck pond nearby. She had only ever cared much for the red cedar tree under which they sat and the grass on which they had run across throughout their childhoods.

Mai was working on her assignments from school. Azula had finished some degrees ago—she had lost count by now as she worked her fingers through Mai’s silky hair. She had undone the older girl’s elaborate three-quarters updo some time ago to only mild complaints, and she was busying herself with braiding and unbraiding plaits.

Azula had never been any good at styling hair. As a young girl, her father had tied it up into her dragon’s topknots for her. Now, she had servants for such tasks. There was little point to Azula learning to do her own hair, let alone anyone else’s.

That didn’t mean she disliked playing with Mai’s hair, though. Far from it. Mai’s hair was less coarse than Azula’s own and cooler-toned too. It had always interested Azula to watch the shine of Mai’s ebon dual dragon topknots in their childhood, contained by silk and pins alike. Saionji’s brown hair had been of interest too, especially in that elaborate braid she had invented herself, but Azula pushed the thought out of her head.

She didn’t want to think of traitors now. Not when Mai was here.

Mai sighed. She set her parchment, brush, and ink to her right, next to her tantō (like any polite guest, she had left her tachi with a servant when she had entered the Imperial Palace as she would have left her katana if she’d brought it today, though Azula permitted her to carry her projectiles on her still). “I’m bored,” she said.

“What am I supposed to do about that?” Azula hummed, giving Mai’s hair a light tug.

Mai winced but only slightly. “Not yank on my hair, for one,” she said.

With a roll of her golden eyes, Azula released Mai’s tresses from her hold.

“… You don’t have to stop playing with it,” Mai said. She sounded annoyed at having to voice such a thought. Good. Azula liked her reluctant vulnerability.

“Hmm, I don’t know. You made such a big fuss about it,” she said. Then, before Mai could protest any further, Azula asked her, “Do you want to learn the chiji of your name?”

Mai blinked at this. “You’ve really seen it?”

Another eye roll. “Who do you take me for, Zuzu?”

Mai’s face soured.

Azula sighed and took her parchment and calligraphy set off of the manicured grass. She didn’t care that it was technically Mai’s homework parchment. She could deal with that later. “Don’t answer that, actually. Anyway, it looks like this,” she said, carefully making each neat stroke that made up Mai’s full name: 中臣盟.

Mai peered over her shoulder, her breath tickling Azula’s cheek and sending turkey duck bumps across the surrounding skin. “Can I see you write it again?” she asked.

Azula repeated the strokes that composed Mai’s name.

“Again,” Mai requested.

As it would turn out, Azula wrote Mai’s name out four more times until the girl was satiated with the act. Each new writing of the name was impeccable. Azula had always had excellent calligraphy like that.

At last, Mai asked the question Azula had been waiting for: “what does it mean?”

Azula turned her face so that it was centimeters away from Mai’s own. Mai’s face grew lightly blowsy and she pulled back a respectable distance. “You know what your surname means even if you’ve never seen it written out,” she said pointedly. It was common knowledge that it was related to the Nakatomi clan’s status in society.

“Ugh. You know what I mean, Azula,” Mai said with a scowl. Unfortunately for her, it was far cuter than it was menacing.

A playful smile crossed Azula’s features. “Do I know that?”

Mai glared evenly. She would not wane on this. How dull.

“Fine. The chiji for your given name means ‘alliance.’ You were named for your grandfather, but the chiji for his name is different. His looks like this.” Azula made several rapid strokes, forming the characters 明治. “That means ‘bright reign,’ which isn’t such a far cry from ‘alliance,’ I suppose. You do need plenty of those to have a bright reign.”

Despite Azula’s best efforts, Mai sighed. “How typical of my parents.”

Azula frowned and set the parchment and calligraphy set down.

“What about you?” Mai asked. “What does the chiji of your name mean?”

“There isn’t any,” Azula said dismissively. “Chichi-ue cared more about spiting Iroh and honoring my grandfather, so he named me with hiragana. My name means nothing.”

Mai was quiet for a long moment as she pondered Azula. Then: “You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Azula was offended. She was never wrong about anything. It was one of the things about her that Mai knew and loathed.

“Your name. It’s not meaningless even if it does lack chiji,” Mai said. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft in a way Azula hadn’t heard in several years. She thought the last time she’d heard Mai speak in such a way might have been in their shared childhood.

“How do you figure that, Mai?”

Mai’s cheeks turned red once more. She turned away almost indecently. “I’d rather not say,” she mumbled to Azula’s delight.

There was little she liked more than an embarrassed Mai, especially when she was the cause of Mai’s embarrassment. She would have to spend the rest of the afternoon taking full advantage of such a treat.

---

When the show came to an end, all veneer of manners went out the window. Sokka grabbed Aang’s hand, pausing only to make sure Aang grabbed Katara’s too and started running. He didn’t care if not staying to applaud the admittedly beautiful show was rude; he only cared that they made it out of there alive. He would not see his sister or their friend killed. He would not let the Empire of Fire take anything further from him.

They bolted from the theater together with the prince in pursuit, pushing people out of his way as he chased them.

Sokka shot him a glare as he pushed a frail-looking man out of his way before turning back around to focus on escaping Prince Zuko. He pulled Aang and Katara after him into the thick of a crowd. In the crowd, they stopped running so fast, hoping to lose their tail by blending in.

“Did we lose him?” Aang asked quietly.

“Not quite,” Katara said. “I think he’s pushing through the crowd.”

Glancing around desperately, Sokka caught sight of a nearby alleyway. “Follow me,” he murmured.

Before the prince could catch them, they slipped into the alleyway. Pressed to the wall, Sokka sneaked a glance out into the plaza.

The prince and an older man bearing a family resemblance to the prince were looking around hopelessly.

“Is that—” Katara started.

“I think it is,” Sokka said darkly.

“Huh? Who?” Aang asked, peering out with them.

Sokka yanked him back into the alley. “Did you see that old man with the prince?” he asked.

Aang nodded.

“That’s Fire Emperor Azulon’s oldest son, the Dragon of Death,” Sokka said.

“Really? He seemed kind of like a harmless old man when I was in the brig. He came down to offer me tea before he went to take a nap,” Aang said.

“Harmless old men don’t conquer kingdoms and slaughter families,” Katara said sharply. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Aang. It’s not you—I just… that man is dangerous. Don’t ever let him near you again, okay? Please.”

Aang was as pale as his eyebrows now. His eyes looked wet. “From here on out, I’ll be more careful, Katara. I promise. Not just about that man—in general. You guys are entrusting me with your lives, and life is the most sacred thing there is. I want to do right by you both. You deserve that much from me.” He took a deep breath. “Which is why I want you to know that—”

“You look like you could use a friend.”

They turned in bewilderment.

---

Zuko was beside himself as he searched Kakōryū-wan for the avatar and his companions. Iroh was more reserved. He would never tell Zuko of his unease about capturing the avatar, but he would not stop his nephew from his search. If Zuko was going to have a change of heart, it had to be his own. It could not be rooted in Iroh’s own heart.

He knew that it would be difficult, and he knew that it was not something he could force on Zuko. He would not try. If he did, he was jeopardizing their entire relationship. That was not something Iroh could bring himself to do. Especially not when he was so sure that Zuko’s heart was, at its core, good. 

Zuko was his father’s son, yes, but evil was not born; it was made. Iroh knew better than anyone that Ozai had been molded in the image of their own father’s cruelty, his destiny not his own to carve out. He could not let go of hope beyond hope that perhaps somehow Ozai could be saved from himself, but he knew it to be unreasonable. He knew that he had to focus on the blood that could be saved.

Iroh would not fail his nephew as he had failed his brother even if he could not change Zuko’s heart of his own volition. He would be there for the boy as he had not been there for Ozai.

Today, that meant following Zuko to remind him to keep a level head and a low profile.

“Remember, Oigo-kun, even if we were not expressly forbidden from stepping foot here, my brother would not be happy to discover our presence,” he said as they walked away from a shopkeeper who had been unable to offer any help as to where the avatar and his companions might be.

“I know, Oji-sama,” Zuko said, his face hardened. He looked so much like his father that sometimes Iroh worried it would swallow him whole. He would not lose Zuko. Not as he had lost his brother. Not as he had lost his son.

---

Before them stood a dark-eyed and complexioned girl. She looked a bit older than Sokka and taller than him too. There was a tired but determined quality to her. It was as if she carried with her the weight of three lifetimes. On some level, Katara could understand that. On another level, it made her wonder what exactly this girl had done to earn such tiredness.

“Who are you?” she asked defensively. She took a protective step in front of Aang who objected immediately, but she didn’t budge. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Aang if she could help it. Losing him once had been bad enough.

“My name is Anh. I can help you. Please, come inside my apartment,” the other girl said. “I’m a swampbender and an ally.”

“You’re a who-what now?” Sokka asked at the same time as Katara said, “Swamp isn’t an element.”

The girl—Anh let out a breathy laugh. The upward flick of her mouth made her look younger, but she still didn’t seem quite trustworthy. “Swampbending is a technique; my element is water. A lot of waterbenders in Đất Nam learn to bend the swamps around them, the water, the vines, and even the swampy soil can be bent. It’s not common in cities like this; it makes me an outsider like the three of you,” she said.

“What makes you think we’re outsiders?” Sokka asked.

Katara’s suspicion was growing by the minute.

Anh’s eyes darted around sharply. She shook her head. “Not here. Please, come inside.”

The three of them exchanged uneasy looks.

“You can leave as soon as you want, but I can offer you shelter from whatever you’re running from,” Anh said.

Reluctantly, they followed after Anh. Katara couldn’t help but think this was a horrible idea even if she couldn’t think of a better one at the moment.

Once they were securely inside Anh’s apartment, Katara surveyed the interior carefully. It was small, a bit dingy. It seemed to be made for only one person to live in, and Anh didn’t have much decorating it to tell Katara anything about her. There was a cheap futon, a vase, a fishing rod, some clothing lying around, and a few wooden chairs, but there was nothing personal to go off of.

“Okay, talk,” Sokka said menacingly despite his lack of ability to do anything to Anh. “How’d you know we’re outsiders?”

“For starters, you were running away from someone and hid in an alleyway. Then there’s the fact that you don’t really look like locals even if you’re wearing our clothing. Oh, and your friend’s airbender tattoos didn’t help,” she said, gesturing to where Aang’s leaf hat had fallen off in their chase. “Would you like some tea? I make a mean jasmine tea.”

“No thank you,” Aang said. “How did you recognize my tattoos? I thought there were no more Air Nomads.”

“Maybe there aren’t any Air Nomads, but there are still airbenders. In the village I’m from, I had a friend of Eastern Air Nomad descent. He taught me a few things about the culture in an attempt to preserve it,” Anh said. “Though, you don’t look anything like he did.”

“Did? What happened to him?” Aang asked. He was letting his guard down too much for Katara’s taste. Anh might seem nice enough, but Katara didn’t trust her as far as she could throw her.

“He was imprisoned for airbending. It’s been two years. They’ve probably executed him by now,” Anh said. Her voice sounded heavier than it had before.

Aang squeezed his eyes shut.

Instinctively, Katara pressed her palm between his shoulder blades and began to rub soothing patterns as she had in the Southern Air Temple.

Anh continued, “That’s why I left; the local firebenders started looking at me funny after that. Which brings me to my point: I don’t know how you got those tattoos, but you need to keep them hidden if you’re going to be in Empire of Fire territory. Frankly, you guys are idiots for being here at all. You’ll get hurt if you stay too long. You might get hurt for staying at all.”

Katara’s face burned as she retracted her hand from Aang’s back. She had rarely felt stupider.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Sokka said.

“No, it’s not! We aren’t idiots!” Katara snapped.

Anh’s eyebrow arched.

“We did come to a country we knew was in the Empire of Fire’s control,” Sokka said. “And after telling Aang we shouldn’t do that.”

Katara huffed and folded her arms over her chest. Just because Sokka had a point didn’t mean it was okay for Anh to call them idiots.

“So your name’s Aang,” Anh said. “What about you two? What are your names?”

“I’m Katara; he’s Sokka. I thought you’d be smart enough to guess that, though,” Katara said. She knew she was being childish, and she didn’t care.

“And I thought I was the sarcastic skeptic,” Sokka said with a laugh. “C’mon, Katara. She’s committing a crime by letting us stay in her apartment, and she’s a waterbender. I think we’re safe to trust her.”

She sighed. Once again, Sokka had a point. She hated when he was right.

“You’re all welcome to stay as long as you want,” Anh said. “You might be stupid, but that doesn’t mean you should die for it.”

“Thank you,” Aang said.

“Yeah, seriously, thanks,” Sokka said.

Katara acquiesced and thanked Anh too.

“But—I have a question. This might be rude,” Sokka said.

“That’s never a good sign,” Katara said.

“Let’s not anger the nice girl letting us stay with her,” Aang added.

Sokka ignored them both. “What’s in it for you? I mean, letting us stay here is really nice, and I appreciate it, but I think it’s fair to question your motives.”

“What happened to ‘we can trust her, Katara?’” Katara asked.

“We can trust her as a fellow criminal; that doesn’t mean we can trust her as a person. Duh,” Sokka said.

Aang snickered slightly, but Anh grew serious.

“You’re right. That is a little rude, but I suppose it’s also fair. The truth is… there’s nothing in it for me. It’s a huge danger to me, actually. I’ve already had to flee one home, and if I’m caught harboring fugitives here, I’ll be forced to leave another. That’s if I’m not arrested and potentially executed, of course,” she said.

“Then why?” Sokka asked.

“This might be a horrible idea—it is, actually, but you’re young and stupid and someone needs to protect you from the cruelty of the Empire of Fire… I suppose it doesn’t hurt that you being young and stupid and in need of protection reminds me of my siblings. I had to protect them from the Empire of Fire too. I left my home because they’re safer without me around to draw suspicion to our family,” Anh said.

Katara’s heart ached for the older girl. Any lingering suspicion ebbed away. Losing family to the Empire of Fire was something she understood intimately. Even if Anh’s siblings were alive, it wasn’t like she could have a relationship with them now. “I’m sorry,” Katara said. She hoped her voice conveyed how deeply she meant it, how much the sentiment lined her heart like armor.

“That must be awful,” Aang said. His eyes were growing watery.

Anh shook her head, though. “Don’t be sorry. Just because I’ve sacrificed my relationship with them, for now, doesn’t mean I’ve lost them forever. The kamioroshi will come back one day, and they will end the war. When that day comes, I’ll be free to hold my siblings again.” Her cheeks were damp, but her eyes were bright with a hope Katara recognized.

A hope Katara wanted to nurture.

She looked to Aang to get his permission to tell Anh. She knew it would be dangerous for Anh to know the identity of the utterpok, but she also knew the relief that washed over someone when they knew their hope was not misplaced.

With wide, frightened eyes, Aang shook his head. Still, he said, “You’re right, you know. The war will end one day, and the world will heal. It has to.”

---

Azula hated this ornate hall. It was lined with ceiling-to-floor length portraits of the most recent Fire Emperors in full regalia. There was no way for them to honor each Fire Emperor of the Great Empire of Fire’s past in this hall alone, but it stretched out long enough that the last twenty Fire Emperors stared straight ahead, imposing as ever with their lofty cheekbones and golden eyes.

They were her bloodline and a disembodiment of her father’s image, yet Azula loathed them.

Twenty Fire Emperors, and not one Fire Empress. As far as Azula was concerned, they were wretched men who had overlooked any daughters that had been eligible to inherit in favor of their sons. 

Fire Emperor Takechiyo, the fourth nonbender Fire Emperor to ascend, had been made the crown prince after his elder firebending sister, Crown Princess Akari, was assassinated under the order of her own mother so that the woman’s preferred child could take what was rightfully Crown Princess Akari’s. He had gone on to unite the Great Empire of Fire under his rule and only his rule when he ended the era of the daimyo and shogunate, but Azula viewed it as a slight against womankind that he had ascended as his sister’s ashes began to cool.

It was a ruthless lineage, and Azula had inherited it as she had inherited her mother’s face.

She extended two fingers, letting a blue flame burst forth. She watched as the flame grew, illuminating the hall in her own image.

Would she be punished, she wondered, if she were to burn down the Fire Emperors of the past? Certainly, if she included the portrait of the current Fire Emperor in that path of destruction, she would be punished most severely. She owed him respect above all others as both her Fire Emperor and father for she was his most loyal subject and daughter. Perhaps if she only burned half of the portraits of the men who came before her father, the last nine generations of Fire Emperors, she would be unscathed for her slight.

Her father was a man who valued her loyalty to him and his country more than anything. Though he would be loath to admit, he had even hated his own father greatly in the man’s lifetime.

It was nothing more than a fantasy.

Azula would not burn down her past any sooner than she would ignite her future.

No matter what that fool Shyu had suggested about her.

The blue of her fire burned brighter somehow. She studied it curiously, letting it dwindle to little more than a small flame like one that she imagined her brother might produce.

Why was her fire blue? She had pondered the question many times before. It had never been recorded before her eighth Long Month, so she didn’t suppose it was ordinary for an avatar to bear such flames.

Still… the thought lingered even when she extinguished her own flame.

If she was the avatar, was that why she stood here, ready to inherit the Dragon Throne when so many daughters before her had failed? Was she destined to restore balance to the world as the avatar was meant to be? 

The last airbender avatar had turned on her country and on their world entirely. It was up to her lineage to bring harmony to the world through the will of the Heavenly War of Tranquility now. If she were the avatar, that would make her an enemy to the Dragon Throne, to the world. That was what she had been taught year after year in her schooling; the avatar had lost their way and become destined to bring with them chaos and destruction wherever they went.

But if Azula was the avatar, why would she ever turn on her father? How could her destiny foretell such a thing? It was a feat unimaginable to her.

“Admiring the Fire Emperors of the past?” her father asked, entering the space to her left. It was an honor to stand at the Fire Emperor’s righthand side, though she had not heard him enter.

“Yes, Chichi-ue. They were great men,” she said. It was not preferable to lie to him, but she saw no good way to tell him the truth today. “You are, of course, the best of the bunch in my eyes.”

A rare smile graced his features. Her reward for her flattery, she supposed. 

“One day, your portrait will be up there, too,” he said.

“Do you believe I’ll restore balance to the world, Chichi-ue?” she asked against her better judgment.

For a moment, her father was silent. Then, he slowly pulled the diadem from her dragon’s topknot to examine it. “Soon, this will be replaced with the Phoenix Diadem. How quickly you grow up, Princess Azula,” he mused. “Nevertheless, you need not worry about restoring balance to the world. I will do so long before you ascend the Dragon Throne.”

Azula could not un-tense her body in the presence of her father, but her red nails bit into her palms. She imagined bloody holes where they met the weak skin there. She wondered when it would come to fruition.

“You will maintain the balance, Azula, like the great Fire Empress I know you will be. After all, I chose you as my heir apparent over your elder brother for a reason,” her father said.

Azula tried to find comfort in his words. She did not know what comfort there was to being told she would serve a country that would not remember her for anything more than her sex.

---

It had been several days now since Aang, Katara, and Sokka had befriended Anh. It wasn’t a lot of time, but, strangely, it had been enough time to develop a pattern of sorts. It wasn't always exact, but it was something they generally abided by. 

In the morning, they helped Anh cook. After breakfast, she showed Katara some of the waterbending forms of central Đất Nam from the safety of her apartment, without bringing water itself into the equation. Then, she went fishing with Sokka while Aang and Katara drank tea and played a game called “ô ăn quan” with a board and some stones after feeding and tending to Appa and Momo in the outskirts of the city. Sokka returned while Anh continued to work her job, and the three of them made another meal together: one vegetarian and one with whatever fish Sokka had caught. Then they would chat and tell stories until Anh came home, at which point they made a final meal to eat together with whatever was leftover from before. Last night, Anh had even shaved Aang’s head bald once more upon noticing the white stubble growing in to all of their surprise.

“You’re a little young to be aging like this,” she had teased him.

He had been unable to tell her the truth of his age,—one-hundred-and-eleven—and when he had tried to claim he was almost thirteen, Sokka had shot him down as, technically, his birthday was at the end of the first autumn month, the ninth of the overall year.

Despite that, it was nice to have a relatively stable routine. It was nice to get to know Anh like this. It was nice to feel safe in the walls of her apartment.

Aang felt almost relaxed now. The only problem was Katara’s insistence to make Aang do dry runs of the forms she was learning. Every time, he felt dread settle in his belly. Every time, he tried to find the words to come clean about the true identity of the avatar. Every time, he could only swallow the truth and spit out lies.

Tonight was different, though. Anh had the day off of work, and she was full of energy because of it. 

Secretly, Anh’s day off left Aang relieved. With her here, Katara wouldn’t try to teach him the forms she was learning.

“Come on, we’re going to the beach,” Anh said. “Sokka’s gotten out, but you two have been cooped up in here.” She had stopped her restless pacing to point accusatorily at Aang and Katara.

“The beach?” Katara asked.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” Aang frowned.

Sokka smacked his palm to his forehead. “Remember the whole ‘we have to hide your tattoos’ lecture?”

“Oh. Right.”

“We’re not going swimming,” Anh said. “We’re doing something way stupider and way more dangerous. It turns out you might be rubbing off on me, after all.”

“She says like she didn’t decide to harbor fugitives on a whim,” Sokka said.

Anh just grinned at him.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Katara asked.

Anh plopped a leaf hat onto Aang’s bald head. “Waterbending,” she said simply.

Aang had never seen Katara move so quickly before. He could barely keep track of how the city whirled by them after she grabbed him by the hand to drag him after herself, Sokka, and Anh to a remote area of the beach. When they finally stopped moving, he felt his jaw slacken.

It wasn’t that Aang had never seen a beach. He’d been to Ember Island, and he’d been to southern Đất Nam when this bay had still been called Vịnh Hạ Long. He’d never been to a beach where the water looked quite this electric, though; the waves glowed azure as they washed over the sand and crashed over rock formations.

“This is amazing…” he said in awe.

“Why does the water… sparkle?” Katara asked breathlessly.

“And is it safe to touch?” Sokka asked.

“It’s called bioluminescence. It’s not the water that sparkles but the algae in it,” Anh said, “and, yes, it’s safe to touch, Sokka. Some areas are getting pretty polluted from that war machinery factory, but this is my safe haven.”

“I can see why,” Katara said, running her hand through the glowing water.

“Yeah,” Anh said. There was a fondness to her gaze. “Ready, bạn?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Katara said.

Aang took a seat next to Sokka on a rock. The waves were alive around them, both with light and the manipulations of a skillful waterbender.

Anh was demonstrating a waterbending form Aang had seen her show Katara earlier in the week, but it was much more impressive as she actually gathered water into a stiff, octopus-like tentacle that swatted playfully at Katara, never losing its shape.

Katara worked to imitate the move, but the gleaming water only twitched upward several centimeters before splashing back down. She muttered an expletive and tried again with the same result.

“What am I doing wrong, cô?” Katara asked. She hit the wrong tone, but if Anh noticed, she didn’t comment on it.

“You’re not moving with the push and pull of the moon and ocean spirits,” Anh said. “You’re… look, I know my bending style is a lot more rigid than what you’d learn in the South or North Pole, but you still need to loosen up, okay? It’s about being one with your environment and guiding the water, not controlling it. You have to use your ki to imitate the push and pull of how the moon bends water. Lean into the move with the water, then strike. It’s okay if you lose the shape at first. We’ll work on that later.”

With her eyes shut in concentration, Katara tried again. Though Aang could not see her qi, he knew that it was imitating the moon spirit, Tui, for the water rose and gathered into a glowing tentacle-like it had for Anh, moving as Katara guided it. She struck with her arm, and the water followed suit without breaking, though it did lose its shape.

Through one eye, she peaked. Soon after, her other eye shot open too. She jumped in celebration, splashing in the luminescent water. She didn’t even care as she lost concentration and the water she had been bending splashed down, soaking both her and Anh.

Despite her wet clothing and state, Anh smiled. “Okay, let’s try again. This time, keep your eyes open so you can see how the water moves with you.”

Katara bent the water again. And again. And again.

Aang couldn’t stop himself from gawking. The crescent moon and sparkling sea both illuminated Katara as she moved, rigid and stiff like Anh despite her slight clumsiness with the forms they worked through. Aang had never seen anyone more beautiful, though. And he had rarely seen someone get the hang of bending forms so quickly—even if Katara’s technique wasn’t perfect, she was progressing spectacularly for a girl who had been too embarrassed to show Aang her waterbending after discovering he was a Master Airbender. There was no other word for Katara: she was gifted. Aang was sure he was witnessing the training of the next great Master Waterbender.

Katara was bending the water into a pearly orb under Anh’s approving gaze. She tried to spin it, but it burst.

Still, Aang let out a wistful sigh. To him, Katara might as well have been hanging the very stars in the sky. “She sure is something,” he whispered.

“Yeah, she is,” Sokka said. His voice was undercut by something bitter Aang had not heard in it before.

Aang turned to look at the boy next to him, but Sokka was already gone, heading away from where Katara and Anh were waterbending almost hypnotically. He scrambled to his feet and blurted out an apology to the student and the master before rushing after Sokka before either of them could even respond.

It was some meters away from the water that Aang finally caught up with Sokka.

“Sokka? Are you okay?” he asked.

Sokka paused but did not turn around. “I’m fine, Aang.”

“No, you’re not,” Aang said. He felt almost guilty doing it, accusing Sokka like he’d done something wrong, but he knew that his friend was not okay, and he wanted to help.

Sokka sighed. “Is it that obvious?” He sat down in the sand where he wrapped his arms around his knees. “I know it’s selfish of me to be upset when Katara’s so happy, I just—”

“It’s not selfish,” Aang said firmly. “You’re allowed to have feelings. Even if they might seem inconvenient to the people around you.” That was something Gyatso had taught him and Nyima both.

“… Are you sure about that?” Sokka asked. His voice was the smallest Aang had ever heard it.

Aang hadn’t known Sokka or Katara all that long, but he knew that he hated the idea of either of them ever feeling the way Sokka seemed to feel. “I’m one-hundred percent sure. Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? It’s okay if you don’t. We can just sit here and draw in the sand until you feel better.”

Sokka let out a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh.

Aang sat down next to him and bumped their shoulders together.

“It’s just… I love my sister. I do. And I’m really proud that she can carry this part of our culture with her and that we’re going up north so she can learn how our people waterbend, but… I don’t know. I’ve been the oldest… kid in our village for so long, and I’ve been the oldest boy for about a year now.” Sokka buried his face in his hands for a moment, rubbing his temple.

Aang hadn’t realized that Sokka hadn’t always been seen as a boy, but he wouldn’t comment on that. Not until Sokka was done saying his piece.

“I just… I thought that it was my responsibility to carry our culture because I’m the oldest. I thought I was supposed to be the one reviving it, and our mom’s parents were both waterbenders, so why is it that Katara can waterbend, but I can’t?” Sokka was quiet a long moment, but he didn’t seem to be quite done yet. “That sounds terrible. I sound terrible. I should just be happy for her, but I can’t stop being jealous that she gets to hold such an important part of our culture while I have to sit there and watch.”

Aang smiled sadly. “I don’t think you sound terrible. I think… I’m starting to get what a burden it is to carry the weight of your entire culture with you like that.”

Sokka’s expression softened, and he started to panic. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Sokka. It’s not your fault my people were killed. Just like it’s not your fault you can’t waterbend, and it’s not your fault you’re jealous that Katara can. But I think it might help if you thought about it this way: the burden of carrying your culture isn’t yours alone. You don’t have to shoulder it all by yourself. You have a whole community, including your sister, to carry it with you. And anyway, there are so many aspects of your culture you can honor without being able to waterbend. I mean, if it helps, if it’d lessen your burden even an ounce, you could tell me about it. Anything you wanted to teach me, I’d be willing to listen and learn,” Aang said. He felt his eyes burn in their sockets and his heart ache in his chest, but even though Sokka’s cheeks were damp, he could see the pain in his friend’s face start to recede.

“You can do the same,” Sokka said. “I know you’re the last Air Nomad, but I want to lessen your burden too. Me and Katara both, I’m sure. Probably Anh too.”

Aang let out a short laugh.

Sokka punched his shoulder lightly.

“Is this—sorry if it’s not, is this like… a moment where we’d do a kunik?” Aang asked.

Sokka laughed but not at Aang. “Yeah, Aang. I think it is.”

---

Zuko’s face was concealed in the darkness of both nightfall and the shadows of his leaf hat as Mayor Abeno Nobunaga eyed him. It was nothing more than a lucky break that the lights were out and Abeno wasn’t a firebender himself. Zuko was far too recognizable to be seen with any more light than was in the room currently.

Not that Iroh was unrecognizable by any means, but at least the shadows of his leaf hat didn’t have to conceal a scar branding half his face. They only had to hide the gold flash of his eyes and the height of his cheekbones to keep Abeno from recognizing him.

“The two of you would do well not to cause such a ruckus in the future,” Abeno said.

“Of course. Our apologies, Mayor Abeno-san,” Iroh said. “My nephew and I were merely overwhelmed with emotion after watching a water puppet show. I won’t allow such a disturbance to occur by our hands again.” He bowed low and true.

Abeno seemed soothed by the pretty words. “Very well. If you’ll be sure to behave yourselves, then you are free to go.”

They stood, and Iroh bowed once more. Reluctantly, Zuko resigned himself to following suit.

“Good night, Mayor Abeno-san,” Iroh said.

“Good night, Imagawa-san,” Abeno said.

The door slid shut behind them as they exited the room. It was only when they were safely out of the government building and into the thinning crowd of citizens that either of them dared to speak. 

“That was too close,” Zuko said. He still felt Abeno’s midnight eyes burning through the back of his skull. Despite himself, he shuddered under the sensation.

“I’ll say, Oigo-kun,” Iroh said.

“You were fast back there… Imagawa—that was Oji-san’s surname, wasn’t it?” Zuko asked. He could not help but feel a weight in his chest as the words left the safety of his mouth. Though the uncle he referred to had not been blood, his loss had still taken its toll on Zuko.

Iroh’s eyes softened. “Yes, Imagawa was his surname.”

“Do you miss him?” Zuko asked.

“Every day. He was my closest friend,” Iroh said, “but enough about my foolish heart. You were right, Oigo-kun. That encounter with the mayor was too close for comfort. We cannot let such an occurrence repeat itself. Perhaps it would be best if we were to give up hunting them in this city. The boy will no doubt have to leave eventually to locate a Master Firebender willing to teach him.”

Zuko’s inner flame tripled at that. He knew that the Great Empire of Fire residents in Kakōryū-wan would never betray their nation by harboring the avatar or teaching him to firebend, but why didn’t his uncle understand the risk to letting him go free? “I won’t let him master waterbending and earthbending under our noses! As is, Oji-sama, I barely stand a chance against him. I won’t let him widen that gap any further!”

A pained expression split Iroh’s face.

Zuko wanted to take back his outburst. He didn’t want to hurt his uncle even when the man frustrated him most.

“We will resume work on your firebending when the sun rises tomorrow, Prince Zuko,” he said quietly.

The distance between Zuko and the avatar was not the only thing that could widen.

---

Sparring with worthy opponents was always something of a thrill for Azula, but those were so few and far between. The only ones she had found were her father, Lo and Li, Mai,—no. That was the end of her list. Those four were the only people worthy of a spar with her.

There was adrenaline coursing through her veins from the spar she had just fought with Lo and Li both. She had been distracted during the match, and she had suffered for it, but not nearly as much as someone less skilled than her would have. She was still distracted. She couldn’t even be angry with herself for having had to raise her hands in surrender as she pressed her fist to where her palm and wrist met and bowed: the Great Empire of Fire symbol of reconciliation.

Lo and Li both bowed back to her. She could hear a cracking sound of one of their backs as they did, but neither of them acknowledged it.

“You fought valiantly like a true princess,” Lo said.

“But not as valiantly as we have come to expect of you,” Li said.

“Yūshi, what is weighing on your mind?” they asked together.

Were it anyone else, she would be furious at having her state of mind questioned regardless of the disarray within her. Her aunts cared about her, though. She knew that to be true. “It’s nothing, Lo-oba-sama and Li-oba-sama,” she said. “Just something that Nohara girl said to Mai.”

They exchanged a sharp look. They were even harder to lie to than her father who was prone to take whatever truth he desired as the only truth Azula could harbor, believing her incapable of anything other than mirroring his heart. Some days, Azula believed it of herself too. Lo and Li likely believed her all but incapable of dishonoring her father in such a way, but they knew of her willingness to lie to them in a way Azula wished they didn’t.

“If this continues to cloud your brain,” Lo said.

“It could have disastrous results in battle,” Li said.

“We are only concerned for your well-being,” they said together.

Azula sighed. She supposed she would have to give them some semblance of the truth for them to drop this. “I’ve been contemplating my flames,” she said.

“Oh?” asked Lo.

“Are they not to your satisfaction?” asked Li.

“No, it’s not that. Don’t be silly,” Azula said. “I was just wondering… why are they blue?”

Another look was exchanged. This one Azula could not read. Sometimes she suspected her aunts were capable of communicating with only their eyes, entire conversations had without anyone else being privy to them.

“Your flames burn blue because they are hotter than those of other firebenders,” Lo said.

“And this hottest flame was born because you willed it to be born,” Li said.

They smiled in unison. “You have willed this into fruition because you are a blessed scion of Amaterasu and Agni.”

Azula’s nostrils flared. “Then why has no one else in the Imperial House of Fire ever wielded blue flames?” she demanded. It was almost an accusation. It was almost treacherous.

Lo and Li were silent for a long moment, but it was not the silence her barbed tongue warranted. It was not a silence of punishment. There was a fond look to both sets of sunset eyes upon her. There was a softness to their sun-loved faces. A kindness Azula had only received from them. One she imagined her mother had looked at her brother with.

Finally, Lo spoke, “You have always been a special girl.”

“That has been apparent from the day you were born,” Li said.

“You will grow to be the most powerful bender the world has ever seen,” they finished.

Azula could not help herself. She had to ask. “What of the avatar?”

“No avatar has ever held a candle to you, Yūshi,” they said gently.

Azula rolled her eyes, but there was no edge to it today. “You have to say that; anything else could be considered treason,” she said, knowing her words to be false. Knowing that her aunts were sincere in their adoration of her. While Higo had no words for such expressions of love that did not carry with them blossoming feelings of shame and discomfort, Azula knew that her aunts had loved her from her first breath. She knew that they would love her until their hearts no longer beat in their chests.

The thought left her lashes heavy and her eyes bright.

---

Sokka could hardly believe his luck lately. He’d met and befriended the utterpok then saved the kid from that Prince Zuko guy. With his sister, he began traveling with the aforementioned kid on a quest to help him master all four elements and end the war. They’d gotten away relatively unscathed with attending an admittedly gorgeous water puppet show. They’d been taken in by Anh who had not immediately betrayed them by reporting them to the police. Katara was now making actual progress with her waterbending which meant she could help Aang practice too while Anh was out. Everything was on the up and up.

It was really suspicious. 

He had a horrible feeling in his gut, really. It was slimy and heavy like he’d eaten bad octopus or something. 

“I’m just saying, there’s no way we can keep this weird streak of luck up,” Sokka said as they cooked together. He was in charge of the rice because apparently, he was a hazard with any other foods.

“You’re being way too cynical,” Katara said. “Things are good! Let them be good.”

“Katara’s right. There’s no reason for us to think anything is wrong,” Aang said. His smile looked flimsy to Sokka, though.

Anh hummed from over the pot of tea she was brewing. “I don’t know. I think Sokka’s onto something. We got away with waterbending the other day even after we ran into Matsuda-san. I mean, that’s too weird.” Matsuda was Anh’s neighbor, and he seemed to be something of a shut-in with bug-like eyes.

“Exactly! There’s no way that dude has our best interest at heart. You saw the way he looked at us,” Sokka said. “Thank you, Anh!”

“It’s been five days,” Katara said. “If he was gonna turn us in he’d have done it by now!”

“I’m telling you, a guy like that is not—” Sokka was cut off by a knock at Anh’s door.

The four of them exchanged wary glances.

Sokka lowered his voice to a whisper. “If we die, I blame you.”

Katara’s tongue poked out as her face scrunched up.

“You’re a child,” he said.

“Shhh,” Anh said. She jerked her head toward the door and then gestured for them to hide.

There wasn’t a lot of room in her apartment to hide, but Sokka, Katara, and Aang still tried to varying degrees of success. Sokka thought he was quite well hidden, ducked down in the kitchen. Katara had flattened herself against a wall the best she could. Aang, however, was hidden poorly behind a chair.

Anh said nothing before Sokka heard the door open.

“Good morning, officers. To what do I owe the surprise?” she asked.

Sokka’s heart lurched. Matsuda must have sold them out. Despite the fear gnawing at the edges of his stomach, he couldn’t help himself; he shot Katara a look, but she missed it.

Her whole body was stiff. She looked almost dead. It made him regret his petulance.

“I’m not a police officer. Are you Hai Anh?” a low voice asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” she said.

“My name is Commander Yōmei. My men and I have received word that you’ve been harboring some… suspicious foreigners,” the man said. “Stand aside so we can investigate your apartment appropriately.

This was it. This was the end of their good luck. Anh was going to give them up, and they were going to die.

Except he didn’t hear footsteps. Anh wasn’t budging from her spot.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” she said. “You see, I’m running late for work, and—”

“That’s fine. We can investigate without you present,” the man drawled.

Sokka had to act. He couldn’t let his friends get hurt—including Anh. He jumped out from his hiding spot, grabbed a pan full of diced vegetables, and threw it as hard as he could at the side-burned man standing in Anh’s doorway, yelling, “Incoming!”

Anh ducked. 

Yōmei side-stepped, letting one of the three men behind him get clobbered in the face by the pan. He went down with a thud, but Sokka knew he’d likely be back up soon.

“Run!” Sokka said.

Run they did. Katara grabbed the vase near her and smashed it over the side of Yōmei’s head on her way out.

“That was expensive!” Anh said.

“Sorry!” Katara said.

“Can’t talk—gotta escape!” Aang said as he took hold of Katara and Sokka’s hands to link them together. 

Katara took hold of Anh’s hand as they exited the apartment building and entered the streets. They weren’t leaving anyone behind if they could help it.

“We’ve gotta head to Appa,” Sokka huffed. His lungs were starting to burn, but they couldn’t stop running while the four men were still pursuing them.

“Appa?” Anh asked. “What’s Appa?”

“You know how we disappear while you’re at work?” Aang asked.

“No!” Anh said.

“Well, we’re going to take care of Appa when we do that,” he said. “He’s my—my friend’s sky bison.”

“Of course, you guys have a sky bison,” Anh laughed. “You’re the least subtle people in the world, so of course you’d travel using an extinct animal!”

“Our lack of subtlety is gonna get us out of this,” Katara said defensively.

“I think!” Sokka said.

---

Things were better than they had been the other night with Zuko and Iroh. Zuko was certainly trying harder to not snap at his uncle even when his firebending instruction was hard to understand. Even when Zuko’s progress was once more suffering for it.

This morning, he had decided they ought to try something else instead of starting their day with practicing the same five intermediate firebending kata that Zuko couldn’t perform correctly. Zuko had let Iroh pick their alternative activity, so of course they were getting breakfast and tea again.

It was so typical, but he wouldn’t get angry today. He would be a good nephew.

At least, that was the mindset he entered the meal with.

And then he saw the avatar, the Water Tribe girl and boy, and a new criminal running away from Zhao. He didn’t even excuse himself from the table before jumping up and charging after them all. He would not let Zhao capture the avatar. He would not let anyone else present the boy before his father.

“Oji-sama, we have to—Oji-sama?” Zuko looked behind him.

Iroh was not following him. Instead, the man was still happily eating his breakfast.

Of course. He should have known. As much as he cared for his uncle, Iroh cared more for his tea than Zuko’s quest. He had known that. Iroh had proven it to him when they traversed the Three Kingdoms of Earth and the Warring Earth States.

“Zhao!” he said. “What are you doing? This is my mission—Chichi-ue tasked me with this, not you!”

“It’s open season, Zuko,” Zhao said with a sneer.

Zuko’s fingertips smoked. He had to restrain himself from attacking Zhao, and instead, sent a blast of flames ahead of him, not caring that he was in public, not caring what he was risking. There was only capturing the avatar. There was only having his honor restored by his father. There was only his destiny.

He could almost taste it.

---

His lungs burned, and, for an airbender, that was a damning sign. His legs ached too. Aang didn’t know how much longer he could keep running.

They were so close to Appa, though. They’d cleared the city some time ago, and Aang recognized this path from the times he’d traversed it with Katara to feed and play with the animals.

That knowledge didn’t ease the pain coursing through him.

“How are we holding up?” Sokka asked through wheezes.

“Badly!” Aang said.

“We haven’t lost them,” Anh said. “We actually gained another one a while back.”

“That’s Prince Zuko,” Katara panted. “He’s the worst.”

“I noticed,” Anh said. She stopped running, breaking Katara’s grip on her as she did. For a moment, she doubled over.

“What are you doing? We’ve gotta go! We’re almost there!” Aang said.

“Go without me,” Anh said.

“What? No!” Katara said.

Aang came to a full stop. His whole body burned. “We don’t leave anyone behind.”

Anh’s mouth twitched, and she glanced back to where Yōmei, his men, and Zuko were gaining on them. She twisted around fully and lurched slightly.

Aang thought she must be in quite a deal of pain.

“Sokka can carry you!” he said.

“Sokka cannot do that,” Sokka wheezed, “but we’re not leaving you, Anh.”

Zuko punched out several fireballs at them.

“Get down!” Sokka yelled.

They did, but the heat never passed over them. 

Aang looked up to see where Anh had erected a muddy wall before them. Swampbending, through and through. It could even get her mistaken for an earthbender. But Aang couldn’t linger on that. All he could do was stare in horror.

“Anh—” he tried to say.

“Go on,” she said firmly. “Go without me.”

“We can’t do that,” Katara said. She sounded as choked up as Aang felt.

After all the kindness Anh had shown them these past days, they couldn’t abandon her. They couldn’t leave her here to rot.

“You have to,” Anh said. “Quickly. I can’t hold them forever.”

“What about your reunion?” Sokka asked, his voice hard and his eyes pained. “Huh? What was all that talk about seeing your siblings again? They’re waiting for you—they need you to be okay!”

Anh’s cheeks were damp now. “They’ll be okay, and so will you. That’s what matters. This is the right thing. Let me do it. Please.”

As much as he didn’t want to, as much as none of them wanted to, Aang listened. Sniffling, he linked his hand in Katara’s and Sokka’s again, and he tugged.

“We can’t—” Sokka said.

“We have to,” Aang said.

“But—” Katara tried.

“Run!” Anh said.

They did. They ran all the way to Appa, and they flew overhead, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of anything other than greens and grays. Desperately trying to see proof Anh was alive.

“We left her,” Sokka said. “We abandoned her to die.”

“I know,” Aang whispered.

“I’m so sorry, Anh,” Katara said.

There was nothing to alleviate the burden of this guilt. There was nothing to make this right. There was nothing but the weight of their sorrow. Even if Anh wouldn’t have wanted them to feel it.

“We’ll end the war,” Aang said firmly. “We’ll end the war, and the world will be a safer place for her siblings. It’s the only thing we can do.”

Notes:

additional cw: filicide mention ig? i can't think of anything else new

i'm ngl there were two parts that i teared up writing. take a wild guess which ones.

hope you all liked anh... i don't incorporate a Ton of oc's into the main narrative, but there are def a few that'll be present such as anh and, ofc, nyima.

translation + cultural notes:
- if it was unclear, chiji (地字) is the same as kanji
- the name changes because here it's not named for the han chinese here, it's named for the earth element
- chiji is used only in the imperial courts (and the military but we'll get into that later) and thus not taught to women because that's accurate to real-world japan's history
- anh speaks higo (fictional japanese) primarily bc of the colonization, but speaks some tiếng Đất (fictional vietnamese) as well
- when anh calls katara "bạn," that is because katara is her student here
- when katara calls anh "cô," that is because anh is her teacher but is only a few years older than her

Chapter 4: Kyoshi (Book One: Air)

Notes:

we're finally in the three kingdoms of earth! since they look very different from the modern koreas and we'll spend so much time there, i've made us a map for reference. this is the only time it'll be posted, and you're free to scroll past it if you'd like. when we get to the warring earth states, i'll post that map too. i probably won't post one for the empire of fire or dat nam since both of those territories look nigh identical to their modern, real-world counterparts.

anyway, here's suki. also there IS sukka in this chapter, but our endgame is still very much zukka.

also, we're so close to azula joining the gaang. i promise. and next chapter shouldn't take as long as this one--that was on me for my outline being messy for it, and on the essays i had to write.

---

Anh’s sacrifice was not wasted. It felt morbid to say, and Sokka was still drowning in guilt each night, but they were alive because of her. They had escaped Prince Zuko and Commander Yōmei both. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a world where they could have escaped with Anh. If maybe there was a world where she had it in her to keep running, and they made it to Appa with her. 

It was too late to find out now. In all likelihood, Anh was imprisoned to be executed. Or she was already dead, cremated by that firebender scum, Prince Zuko. 

Ashmakers burned things down almost indiscriminately; Sokka had heard them call people kindling enough times to know that.

“Did we do the right thing?” he asked.

Aang tensed from his spot before the reins around Appa.

Katara looked down. “I don’t know that there was a right thing we could do, Sokka.”

“There’s always a right thing to do,” he said.

“Not always,” Aang said. His voice was quiet, and he sounded halfway to the brink of tears. “Sometimes the world isn’t so black and white. Sometimes there’s just the thing you do.”

Sokka buried his face in his palms. Momo nuzzled into his side. The gesture was only somewhat comforting. “But what if—” he tried.

“You’re going to hurt your heart if you keep wondering what if. There is no what if. There’s only what is. Anh made a choice: she sacrificed herself, and we’re alive,” Aang said. “I feel guilty too, Sokka. Every minute since we left, I’ve felt guilty. I feel like I killed Anh like I killed my people—”

“You didn’t kill your people, Aang!” Katara interjected.

“The Empire of Fire killed them,” Sokka said emphatically.

“But it feels like I did. My point is—my point is… Anh is probably dead. And there’s nothing we can do to fix that. We can’t go back and do something different, and even if we could, it might get us killed which is the opposite of what she wanted. We can only keep going and try to end the war,” Aang said.

“… You’re right,” Sokka said.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

---

Appa needed a break. They’d been flying for some hours straight, and even with all the rest Appa had gotten in Đất Nam, Aang didn’t feel good letting him continue on like this. Not when they’d lost a true friend.

Not when Aang had lost so many more. Not when Appa was all he had left of Nyima.

“That island down there—is that Kyoshi Island?” he asked.

Katara squinted down at it. 

Aang was sure they were too high up to make out concrete details of it, but from what he could see, there didn’t seem to be any hints of Empire of Fire red down below.

“I think so,” Katara said. “I thought it was under Empire of Fire control, though. That’s what Ataata and Bato always said.” From what Aang had heard, Bato was one of the men in the South Pole, and he had grown especially close to Katara and Sokka’s family after his wife had succumbed to a fever.

“I don’t see any red flags from here,” Sokka said.

“You think it’s safe?” Aang asked. “I don’t want to take any risks this time, but I think it’d help if we rested.”

“Maybe,” Katara said.

“We should fly a little lower to investigate,” Sokka said.

“You’re sure?” Aang asked.

“Yeah,” Sokka said.

Katara nodded. “It’ll be good for us,” she said.

Aang hoped beyond hope that she was right. They needed something good. They needed something kind. There was a time, not too long ago, when they were only children, and children needed more than the cruelties of war could offer them.

“Huh, there’s no Empire of Fire flags at all,” Sokka said.

“It must be safe!” Katara said.

---

Kyoshi Island was not, in fact, a safe place to land. Katara was sure of this now that they’d been captured and taken down by a group of a dozen or so seemingly teenaged green-clad warriors with painted faces who, according to Aang’s translations, were now threatening to feed them to something they called Unagi. She wasn’t sure what that was, but there was no way it was anything good.

“You can’t feed us to some monster!” Sokka said in Higo. “He’s the utterpok!”

“The what?” the leader of the group asked. She looked around Sokka’s age, but her eyes were sharp like the blade she carried.

“The—the kamioroshi, you know,” Katara said, nodding quickly.

The girl’s eyes blew wide open.

Aang said something in Jigueo. Katara thought she had a vague idea of what he might be saying, but like a butterfly, she couldn’t quite pin it down.

“Suki, I get why we’re doing this, but I’m lost,” one of the girls said in Higo. She was small and looked younger than the others. She might’ve been Katara’s age. “Can we switch back to Higo?”

The leader—Suki—smacked her forehead. The white paint of her face was starting to stick to the palm of her glove when she pulled it away. It would’ve been kind of funny if Katara wasn’t so terrified she was going to be eaten by the Unagi. “Yihwa, we’ve been learning Jigueo all year. What do you mean you’re lost?”

“It’s all the language switches! They’re making me dizzy,” Yihwa said with a pout.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Suki said. “Who do you three think you are, pretending your friend is the kamioroshi? Just because he’s got weird tattoos you think we’ll fall for that? Do you know how cruel that is? It makes me wanna feed you to Unagi even more, actually.”

“We’re not pretending!” Sokka yelped. “I swear, I swear! He’s the real deal! I didn’t believe it at first either! I totally thought the kamioroshi would never come back—Aang, show them your airbending!”

“Okay,” Aang said. He was unusually pale as he bent a small ball of air, tighter and tighter together until it was the size of a pinky nail.

The warriors’ jaws were slack. So was Katara’s. Even though she knew Aang was a Master Airbender, she hadn’t seen him airbend very much, and it was beyond impressive to see the control he had now that she knew how hard it was to shape your element so precisely.

“He can really airbend… but that doesn’t mean he’s the kamioroshi. There are airbenders who escaped the genocide. The Southern Water People harbored them—so did some of the Warring Earth States, the Kingdom of Omashu, and the Gaya Confederacy,” Suki said.

“There are no airbenders in the South Pole,” Katara said. “They—they’ve all been killed in the raids.”

She didn’t miss the way Aang’s shoulders sank at that. Guilt opened in her stomach like a void, threatening to swallow her whole.

“His tattoos mean he’s a Master Airbender. How could he have those if he wasn’t the kamioroshi? Only Air Nomads could have given him them,” Sokka said.

The warriors contemplated them for a moment.

A girl with an elaborate hairstyle and earthbender green eyes asked, “If he’s the airbender avatar from the start of the war, then how is he so young?”

“Well, my hair is white now,” Aang said with a strained grin, “but I guess the rest of me didn’t age because I was frozen in ice.”

“It’s true! We broke him out,” Katara said. “He hasn’t learned any other elements yet, but he really is the kamioroshi. We promise.”

“Seriously, so could you be nice, normal girls instead of scary warriors and release us?” Sokka asked.

Suki glared at Sokka but gestured with her hand, and the warriors released them. Before Katara could start to thank them, they bowed deeply to Aang who bowed back respectfully. Katara thumped Sokka on the arm so he’d bow too. Their father had told them about the importance of bowing in Three Kingdoms of Earth culture, and unlike her idiotic brother, she would not be rude to girls who had access to some sort of starving sea monster.

“Our sincerest apologies to you and your companions. Even the annoying one. We are the Kyoshi Warriors, and we welcome you to Kyoshi-si,” Suki said.

So maybe Kyoshi Island was a safe place to land as long as no one wanted to feed you to Unagi.

---

Zuko carried all of his years of anger with him, and he could not set an ounce of it down. Not when it lined his face, distorting his features from those of the prince he had been before his exile and into those of the nationless boy he was now. 

Boy, not man. It was an important distinction to be had. He was fifteen now, but he was still not a man in the eyes of his father or the country he had been born to. His exile had denied him his genpuku as it had denied him his place in the line of succession. He was cursed to boyhood so long as he let the avatar live freely.

He was cursed to a lot of things so long as the avatar did not bow before his father.

It was with this anger boiling under his firebender’s skin that he turned his crew’s deck of cards into kindling, ending the game of Koi-Koi they were playing. “What are you doing screwing around? We have an avatar to capture—or have you forgotten that your loyalty is to my father and your obedience is to me?” he snarled.

“That’s the third deck of cards you’ve burned,” Hisakawa said.

“I don’t care about your cards!” Zuko said.

Hisakawa glowered at him. He wasn’t alone in his disdain for Zuko.

Zuko knew that his crew hated him. They didn’t disguise their contempt, and he didn’t care to earn their admiration. He was a prince even if his title had been stripped. No one could take his blood or his name from him.

“You’re supposed to be helping me track down the avatar, not playing Koi-Koi,” he said.

“It’s not like we can even play Koi-Koi anymore,” the navigator, Abe Itsuki, said.

“Oigo-kun, perhaps they are right, and it is time for a break,” Iroh said.

Zuko wasn’t sure when his uncle had arrived, but the man’s presence did nothing to calm him.

“We don’t have time to goof around!” Zuko said. “We have to find the avatar! Every second we’re not hunting him, Zhao is—all thanks to them!”

“We were questioned on behalf of Commander Yōmei. Answering honestly was our only choice,” Jee said.

Zuko’s nostrils flared. “You don’t answer to Zhao! You answer to me!”

“Commander Yōmei outranks you, Your Imperial Highness,” Hisakawa said. “This kind of behavior is exactly why His Heavenly Sovereign chose Princess Azula to be his heir apparent.”

Zuko lunged forward, but Iroh caught him by the arms. 

“I would advise against speaking to Prince Zuko in such a way,” Iroh said evenly. “Oigo-kun, please go meditate in your chambers. I will be down shortly, and we can further discuss our course of action for finding the avatar since he escaped us in Đất Nam.”

It was only the tone of voice that made Zuko obey. He recognized that voice. It was one Iroh and his father had inherited from their father, Fire Emperor Azulon. He walked away as calmly as he could, his fingertips smoking and the beat of his heart loud and frantic in his ears. As he left, he heard his uncle jovially ask the crew if they hadn’t considered investing in dice.

Somehow, it soothed the racing of his heart.

---

The restricted section of the Imperial Fire Academy for Girl’s library was normally one of Azula’s favorite haunts. She was the only girl in the academy who didn’t need written permission to peruse it; who were they to deny a member of the Imperial House of Fire? Today, however, it was not permeated with the static air of the proof of her superiority. Today, it was fraught with uncertainty.

Shyu had opened a door that Azula could not simply slide closed.

As insane as it was, as little as she took that fool’s word to heart, she could be the avatar. Pressed inside her skeleton could be the spirit of the person who had forsaken destiny and betrayed her country. She could be an enemy of the Dragon Throne, of the world, of her father.

Azula couldn’t receive confirmation from the library, but she could study the last few known incarnations of the avatar. She could pinpoint where the shift had happened, and, if by some horrible accident, she was the avatar, maybe, just maybe, destiny could be shifted back to its right place. Maybe if Azula was the avatar, she didn’t have to be enemy to her father and her country.

Not like the airbender avatar and anyone who succeeded them.

At least, Azula thought that the change in the avatar’s destiny had not come forth from Avatar Kyoshi who had liberated Đất Nam from the rule of what had then been the so-called Great Earth States, seeking conquest of the less fortunate. 

Avatar Kyoshi was the most recent of the known female avatars, following Avatar Yangchen, and she had been a force to be reckoned with. She had been a prodigy, just like Azula, who was known for her no-nonsense attitude and the justice she had fought for until her dying breath. A woman as noble and cut-throat as Avatar Kyoshi who had done nothing but restore balance as the avatar ought to could not have shifted the destiny of her spirit; Azula was sure that a woman like that would even hold disdain for the airbender avatar who had betrayed the destiny that was engraved in her bones.

The change must have come later, the byproduct of the karma of one incarnation passed to the next. It must have come in the last avatar who preceded the arrowhead traitor—Avatar Roku, the once friend of her great-great-grandfather, Fire Emperor Sozin.

She was sure of it now that she’d gone through the last two known full cycles of the avatar.

“Princess Azula, is that you?” the librarian asked.

“Yes, Fukunaga-san,” she said.

He approached, pale and wiry as ever. His eyebrows were knitted together. He had no right to challenge Azula’s presence in the restricted section even considering the topic of her readings. “You’re reading about the avatar? I didn’t know you cared about such things, Your Imperial Highness.”

“It’s important to study the enemy,” she said sharply. “I can’t imagine you would know of such things as you are not… the combative type, but those of us who intend to serve our great country seek to know our enemies as we know ourselves.”

He nodded, accepting her half-lie and insult alike. “Of course. That makes perfect sense. My apologies if I offended you.”

“You? Offend me? No, never,” Azula said, returning to her readings.

Someone like Fukunaga could never cross Azula’s mind long enough to offend her.

---

They were at a banquet with the people of Kyoshi-si, the capital of Kyoshi Island, held in honor of the avatar, a person Aang very much was not. It was beautiful and considerate of his vegetarianism which only made Aang feel worse about his lie and the false hope it offered. Maybe he hadn’t volunteered the lie this time, but he had been complicit in upholding it ever since he had told Prince Zuko he was the avatar to protect the Southern Water People.

He should have clarified to them immediately after that he had been lying. He should have never gone into the Imperial Navy ship. He should have never taken Nyima away from the Southern Air Temple at all. The guilt was rising in him once more.

“Aang, can you help me?” Katara asked.

“Huh?” Aang whipped his head around to look at her to his right.

She wiggled the metal chopsticks she was holding. She was struggling to hold them correctly. “I’ve never used them before.”

“Oh!” Aang’s eyes went wide like saucers. Of course, Katara and Sokka weren’t used to eating with chopsticks. The Water People ate with their hands. “I’m sorry! I should’ve offered to help. Sokka, do you need help too?”

“No, I think I’ve got it,” Sokka said through a mouthful of seafood hot pot that was in danger of falling because of his poor form. Only the spoon beneath it was saving it.

Aang couldn’t help but laugh even as Suki shook her head at Sokka’s poor manners. “Right,” he said. “So, Katara, you need to hold them like this,” he said, lifting his hand to show her the way his fingers rested on the chopsticks. They were longer than the ones he was used to, but he knew he was holding them correctly with his index and middle finger controlling them.

Katara shifted her hand around to imitate his. She was holding them low, but her form had been corrected. “Like this?” she asked.

“Yeah! Normally, you’d hold them higher up because it’s more polite, but you can start lower if it helps you control them,” he said.

Katara nodded. “And do I just—” she tried to move the chopsticks. They only parted slightly.

“Um, kinda yeah,” Aang said. “It’s a little more in your index finger, though. It’ll take some practice, but you’re doing great for a beginner!”

She beamed at the praise. Aang’s insides felt warm. So did his face.

“You know, we still don’t totally know what the avatar is,” Sokka said. He had adjusted his hold on his chopsticks to match what Aang had just taught Katara. “I mean, I get the four elements reincarnation thing and that you’re supposed to end the war, Aang, but like… is that it?”

“Yeah, Aanak didn’t have a lot of answers for us,” Katara said. “She said we’ve even lost our word for the avatar.”

Aang’s guilt was rooting in his stomach again, knotted and dreadful.

“What?” the Kyoshi Warrior who had introduced herself as Hana asked. “Your people lost their word for avatar?”

“The Raids of the Southern Water People have targeted our elders, our shaman, the Air Nomads, and our waterbenders. They’re killing our culture off. I’m the last waterbender of the Southern Water People,” Katara said. Her knuckles were pale now. “The Empire of Fire has taken everything from us.”

“That’s awful,” Suki said. “The Kyoshi Warriors chased them out of Kyoshi Island last year, but our home was a colony for nineteen years. Most of us grew up under ashmaker occupation. My father was even one of them. He forced Eomma to marry him, and she had me a few years later.”

“That’s awful,” Katara said. She was getting the same burning look in her eyes that she got when Aang talked about the Air Nomads.

Suki shrugged. “He’s gone now.”

“You chased him out of here?” Sokka asked.

“No, he died when I was a kid,” Suki said. “He’s not missed.”

“Definitely not,” Katara said.

There was one thing Aang was curious about, though. “I thought the Kyoshi Warriors were older. Isn’t the age of majority across the Three Kingdoms twenty, or did they change it while I was in the ice?” he asked.

Last he had heard, the Kyoshi Warriors were an elite group of nonbending soldiers founded in honor of Avatar Kyoshi herself who were all over the age of majority, and child soldiers were not in typical practice anywhere in the world. However, the Kyoshi Warriors seemed to be, for the most part, anywhere between fourteen and nineteen with one or two being of age.

Given how the Water People had split into two, Aang supposed anything was possible now. Even Prince Zuko didn’t seem to be much older than Sokka, and the age of majority had been twenty in the Empire of Fire when Aang had been growing up. It wasn’t impossible that the age of majority had changed in some parts of the Three Kingdoms of Earth.

“It’s still twenty. The original Kyoshi Warriors were all adults, but a few decades after the Air Nomads' genocide, they fell. His Majesty King Hye-sung defunded them and sold them out to the Empire,” Suki said.

“When we were thirteen, Suki, Chae-won, and I started up this iteration of the Kyoshi Warriors,” the girl who had introduced herself as Bongseon said. “We’ve always looked up to Avatar Kyoshi. When we found a secret base the Kyoshi Warriors used to use, well, what else were we supposed to do? We had a duty to our people to depose the imperial occupation.”

“Yeah! We’re young, but we’ve all seen what everyone—especially our moms have done to protect us from the ashmakers. It was our turn to repay them,” Chae-won said with a grin.

Aang looked at them, sadness heavy in his chest. He wished he could help them. He desperately wanted to be the person everyone wanted him to be, to end the war. The person Anh had needed him to be. He opened his mouth to confess immediately, but Katara spoke before he could.

“You guys are so brave. I wish I could protect my village from the Empire of Fire,” she said.

“Seriously…” Sokka said with awe. His eyes were shining.

Aang felt like he might be sick.

“Maybe a little,” Suki said, “but a lot of people outside the island think we’re just kids playing war.” Her eyes were sharp now and her grip on her spoon had tightened so much her hand was trembling slightly.

“Don’t get Suki started. Anyway, they asked about the avatar, remember?” Bongseon asked.

“Oh, yeah, we did,” Sokka said.

“The avatar is… they’re someone whose spirit has always been destined to bring harmony. They’ve been reincarnated over and over to make sure that when we have balance in our world, it’s maintained. Not every avatar is able to bring harmony in one lifetime, though. They master all four elements like you said, but they’re also the link between our world and the spirit world. 

“The Empire of Fire likes to say that their war is a holy war, fought to bring peace to the world because the avatar has forsaken their destiny somehow, but I’ve always believed the avatar—hwasin in Jigueo—would come back. You don’t know how glad I am to meet you, Avatar Aang,” Suki said.

“Oh—you don’t have to… I mean, just Aang is okay,” he said. “Um, I can call you Suki, right? Or should I…” 

Aang wasn't sure if Suki had a surname he should call her instead. He knew that the Three Kingdoms of Earth practiced surname culture, but Suki hadn’t mentioned one when she’d introduced herself.

“My father’s surname was Ikeda, but you can just call me Suki. All three of you. I prefer it, really,” she said.

“Doesn’t Suki mean love in Higo?” Katara asked.

Suki flushed from beneath her warrior’s makeup. “Love or like. I—well, I picked it when I was eight. I thought it was cute,” she said.

Sokka’s ears perked up. “Yeah? I picked Sokka when I was thirteen,” he said.

Suki gave him a look Aang couldn’t place. “I like the name,” she said. “I’m trying to find the right characters for mine still since I picked it before I spoke any Jigueo.”

Sokka grinned, not noticing the meat caught in his teeth.

A horrible part of Aang was relieved that this meant he wouldn’t have to tell them the truth. He had never been more ashamed of himself.

---

Dinner had been quiet for most of the night. There were only the slurping sounds of broth being swallowed and the clatters of chopsticks as they were used. Azula was not at ease for it as she would not have been at ease for conversation. Her father’s silence meant uncertainty here, and his conversation was riddled with traps to ensnare her.

There was no one Azula loved more than her father; there was no one Azula feared more than her father. It was the dichotomy of being the daughter of the most powerful man in the world, she supposed. Fear and love went hand in hand anyway.

Azula hadn’t touched her kobe steak, and she could barely even taste her umeshu and sand eel salmon served over bamboo rice with the tenseness that had situated behind her ribs ever since Shyu had spoken to her. The possibility that her father knew now felt too great, especially after her excursion to the restricted section of the Imperial Fire Academy for Girl’s library. If he knew…

There was something Azula had taunted Zuko with once when they’d been children still. “Chichi-ue’s gonna kill you,” she’d sing-songed. “No, really, he is.”

Zuko was alive.

Azula wouldn’t be if her father knew what she’d done, not telling him of Shyu’s treason, not telling him of the possibility of her own. She was playing a dangerous game as she had done for much of her life, but her father was her most formidable opponent. She only hoped to survive this night, and then she could worry about the next. Though, she was struggling to focus on this night. Her head was starting to swim from the umeshu her father had insisted upon pouring her—“It’s spring,” he had said, and that had been all it had taken for her to bow to his will.

He set his chopsticks in their holder, and it took everything in her not to flinch at the action. He wiped his mouth clean with a napkin. “I hear you were studying in the restricted section today. You’ve always liked to get ahead of your studies,” he said. His voice was conversational; his eyes were like knives.

Azula swallowed what would be her last bite of bamboo rice for the night. “Yes, Chichi-ue,” she said. There was no lying. The omission of her interest was lie enough. He was only waiting to see if she was smart enough to come clean. “I wanted to learn more about the avatar.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, we’ve studied them in my classes, but I wanted to do a more thorough reading about the lives of the last known cycle of the avatar,” she said.

“And why is that, Princess Azula? You’ve never been interested in the lives of the avatar off the battlefield before.” There was blood in his teeth from the meat he’d eaten. It was a horrible sight when Azula could see the red of her lips smeared across the rim of the lacquered cup.

She almost thought it was blood from her own mouth.

Azula hated the burning in her belly and the extra time it took to formulate the way to move her mouth next. She hated that she had drank so much when she knew the consequences. Drunkenness was weakness, and weakness was inexcusable.

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle,” she said. Her face was glowing red, but she knew that it was from the alcohol and not the effort to recall the words of one of the greatest generals of Warring Earth States’ history.

“Sun Tzu,” her father said with the slightest smile on his lips. The sight was not soothing. Nothing could be soothing to Azula with her traitor’s heat still thumping away in her chest. “Very impressive, my dragon.”

It was a childhood pet name he had given her in spite of the shame surrounding such affection. Something he had murmured as he corrected her form personally, as he tied her hair into her dragon’s topknot, as he sneaked her mizu manji and mochi when her mother had sent her to her chambers for scaring her brother.

She had always loved dragons far more than phoenixes, had loathed the latter’s association with her, born from only her girlhood. He had told her that for him, she could be a dragon. His dragon. His fanged daughter, molded in his image and born from his will.

It was a reminder that he loved her, and she ought not lie to him. She loved her father. She did. Even when she hated him. Even when she feared him.

“Thank you, Chichi-ue,” she said.

His smile widened; Azula couldn’t escape the feeling that it would devour her whole.

“One last question, and then you are excused,” he said.

“Anything.”

His smile did not dissolve. His eyes did not harden. “Have you been pious to me, my daughter?”

Azula’s blood ran cold. Her stomach was no longer boiling over from the alcohol. She rose to her feet so as to prostrate herself fully to the side of the dining table. “Always, Chichi-ue. I know no will but yours. I am your loyal daughter first. Anything else comes after.”

“That you are. Those bastards Lo and Li would do well to remember that.”

Azula would not sleep well that night. Not after such an awful conversation with her father.

---

Gaya was an awful place as far as Zuko saw things. It was, unlike the kingdoms, an often forgotten confederacy and it showed. From what Zuko had seen of earthbender country, this region was tiny and insignificant. It was poorer than New Azulon, New Sozin, and Omashu as well. This was probably why it had been thus far spared from attempts to conquer it by the Empire of Fire. It simply wasn’t worth the tax dollars they’d have to put into the military effort.

It wasn’t like they had been particularly active in the war either. Maybe they didn’t like firebenders, but Zuko hardly saw why Iroh was so insistent on disguising themselves with Three Kingdoms of Earth trading flags and garments while they were docked and deboarded. His uncle had even worn his hair down to sell the idea of them as nothing more than traders.

Zuko had refused to do the same. Even in exile and disguise, he would not dishonor himself further.

“I understand your frustration with the crew, Joka,” Iroh said in Jigueo, “but perhaps they would treat you with more respect if you returned the favor. It is often forgotten, but filial piety is a two-way street.”

“I’m their superior!” Zuko said. His face was hot, and his inner flame was bright. 

They had had this conversation many times before. Zuko could never understand why Iroh had such a perspective when they were the ones born indebted to him as his future subjects and thrust into debt once more when they had been appointed to be his crew.

Iroh’s eyes crinkled. “That you are, but your superiority through position alone is not enough for them to treat you as such. I believe they would respond better to kindness. You should consider it at least.”

“Fine, whatever, Samchon,” Zuko said with a huff. “Can we get back to searching for the avatar now?”

Iroh nodded happily and set to asking around. He spoke to merchants and traders and shoppers and street rats alike. He was always so friendly too.

Zuko didn’t see why his uncle was kind to these peasants when he was born with the blood of Agni and Amaterasu coursing through him and when he had brought the Great Empire of Fire so much glory throughout his life. Yet he chose exile with Zuko, his disgraced and dishonored nephew, and showed mercy to the peasants they encountered even when they recognized him as the Dragon of Death.

Zuko didn’t know that he would ever wrap his mind around it. Such gentleness was not something their culture had taught him to accept, and he did not understand where his uncle had learned to practice it in sincerity.

“Excuse me, sir, have you seen a bald boy with strange tattoos and two Water Tribe children?” Iroh asked a young man.

Zuko could only stare in confusion.

---

Suki couldn’t make her mind up about Sokka as she watched her friends spar. He was… cute, but he had been dismissive of the Kyoshi Warriors when they’d met. Then he’d seemed to respect them during the banquet. Worse, he was like her—born to the wrong skin wrapped around his bones, born as something other than what his parents had been told he was. And he had suffered too. She had spoken in depth now with him and Katara about all the ashmakers had done to their people, and she could see her own pain reflected back at her, magnified.

She had lived in the perils of the war, but the Southern Water People had died in them.

Everything was awful, and maybe Sokka had just said something stupid that he didn’t mean. Maybe she was making a mountain out of a badger molehill. It was so like her to be too angry, too defensive, too emotional. She was always doing this.

Aang was the avatar, and his companions were good people who had suffered so much more than Suki could truly understand.

“Am I being unreasonable?” she asked.

Bongseon and Chae-won paused their spar to look at her. Suki was sure she looked a mess after she’d been running her hands through her hair.

Chae-won took a glance back to Bongseon’s distracted state, and she brought her practice woldo to the left side of Bongseon’s chest. “I win!” she cheered.

“Hey, Suki’s having a crisis! This is unfair,” Bongseon said.

Childish as ever, Chae-won stuck her tongue out at Bongseon instead of offering her hand for reconciliation like they were technically supposed to.

Bongseon shook her fist in mock anger. Chae-won and Suki were the only ones who could bring this softer side of Bongseon out. Suki normally found it kind of sweet, but today she was wound too tightly to appreciate it.

“What would you be being unreasonable about?” Bongseon turned back to Suki. 

“All the food you insisted we make for Aang, Katara, and Sokka? I mean, it was a little excessive,” Chae-won said.

Bongseon thumped her on the back of her head. “They ate all of it, didn’t they? Their animals did too. It wasn’t unreasonable.”

Suki sighed. “No, not that. I mean how I was mean to Sokka.”

“You were mean to Sokka?” Chae-won asked with faux wide eyes. 

Suki’s face remained fixed and stressed. 

Chae-won laughed. “Come on, Suki, you weren’t that mean. And it was only when he was being a jerk with no manners. What was that thing he said, Bongseon?”

“About us being nice, normal girls? Ha,” Bongseon said.

“Yeah! That was so annoying. I mean, he ended up being okay at the banquet, but come on, that was totally sexist,” Chae-won said.

“It was, yeah,” Suki said. “He’s not so bad, though. I mean, he’s kind of cute…”

“Oh?” Chae-won asked. She was wiggling her eyebrows like caterpillars.

Suki’s face burned at the admission. “Just a little bit,” she said.

“Do you hear that Bong-Bong? He’s just a little bit cute,” Chae-won said. Her eyebrows were still dancing on her forehead.

“Don’t be childish, Chae,” Bongseon said. She was grinning too, though. “Suki’s little crush is cute.”

“It’s not a crush!” Suki said.

Both her friends eyed each other.

“Right. Well, It’s your turn to spar unless you’d rather go make out with Sokka,” Bongseon said.

Suki drew her practice jingum and took a fighting stance. “We should take this seriously, guys,” she said even as her blush undermined the stern voice she picked up.

Chae-won rolled her eyes playfully but squared her shoulders like a wall. Suki could tell she would be teased more later, but she also knew that her friends would treat their private training session like real combat. After all, they never knew when the empire would return with reinforcements. Their freedom would only last as long as they could protect it. The Kyoshi Warriors had fallen once. Suki would not see them fall again.

---

Sokka took a deep breath. Katara and Aang were right. He was overthinking this. All he had to do was go in there and ask the Kyoshi Warriors if they’d be willing to teach him their fighting style. The worst they could do was say no.

Well, they could also kick him out of Kyoshi-si, or maybe even the whole island, but they probably wouldn’t do that. Aang didn’t think so at least, and Katara had rolled her eyes at him. So he was probably safe. If nothing else, Aang would protect him from being exiled. They were friends, after all.

He entered the base, mumbling his line: “hi, sorry to disturb you guys, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to teach me how to sword fight?” He immediately clamped his mouth shut, though.

Before him, Suki was sparring with Chae-won. They were graceful but strong, immovable and solid with every move they made. He had never seen anyone from the Three Kingdoms of Earth fight before, but he felt his jaw slacken at this sight, his awe overflowing. He was sure now that they had to teach him to wield a sword. He wouldn’t accept another teacher.

Suki disarmed Chae-won in a quick and direct manner, letting her wooden weapon clatter to the ground. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead and disappeared into her armor.

Sokka applauded immediately.

The girls turned to look at him.

“What are you doing here?” Bongseon asked. She didn’t sound all that friendly.

Still, Sokka did not run away. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Yihwa said you’d be here? I was wondering if you’d be willing to teach me to sword fight?”

Suki blinked at him.

“You want us to teach you to sword fight?” Chae-won asked.

“I know I said that stupid thing earlier, but I really do think what you guys did for Kyoshi Island is cool,” he said.

“You don’t think girls are supposed to be nice and normal then?” Suki asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that—sorry. I mean, yeah in the Southern Water People culture girls are supposed to take care of the community, do all the nurturing and stuff, but that’s a seriously important part of protecting and caring for our community. It’s really honorable to do. Anyway, it’s not like girls don’t hunt and fight back home considering the war. I mean, my sister is the strongest person I know,” Sokka said. He scratched the back of his head nervously. He didn’t want to upset Suki. Not when so much was riding on this.

Without his boomerang, he needed to learn another way to help fight while he was traveling with Aang and Katara. He couldn’t let them be hurt. It was important they agreed to teach him—that Suki specifically taught him. The other Kyoshi Warriors he’d spoken with had all said that she was the best of them with a sword.

“… Okay,” Suki said. “I’ll teach you. You’re sure about a sword, not a battle fan?”

“I’m sure,” Sokka said.

“Let’s take a look at what we have available then,” Suki said. “Bong, Chae, do you mind getting some of the practice swords out?”

Sokka could hardly believe it. Suki was going to teach him. She was really going to teach him to sword fight. He’d be able to help Aang and Katara the next time the Empire of Fire targeted them. Maybe he’d even get that Zuko guy back for all the times he’d attacked them. It was with this in mind that Sokka picked out a practice jingum.

He was going to be a man, and he was going to protect Katara and Aang. He had to. Even if Aang was the avatar, he was still only a boy, and Sokka owed it to him to protect him as much as he could.

“I hope you’re ready for some serious swordsmanship, Sokka,” Suki said.

“I was born ready,” Sokka said.

---

Asahi was talking about his father again. Whether he was boasting about the man’s rank or begrudging the man’s expectations, Azula didn’t know. She wasn’t listening. 

All she could think about was how if the kohl lining her eyes bled into the white of them, she might be able to excuse herself, pretending to have some medical emergency that required the care of one of the waterbender healers kept on staff. Asahi likely didn’t know much about the makeup Azula painted her face with, so she thought if she could blink just right, she might be able to pull it off.

She was about to try when Asahi’s closest and most grating friend waved them over. Tokugawa Ruon-Jian was a young man of a certain pedigree who had always felt entitled to things that Azula couldn't think he deserved—including Mai’s attention even once she’d been betrothed to Zuko. The thought alone still made Azula’s inner flame rise. She had never been very fond of him, and he had always been more Asahi’s friend than hers.

“Ruon-Jian!” Asahi said, skipping the formalities of bowing.

“Asahi, hey,” Ruon-Jian said. “Good afternoon, Azula.” He bowed to her, but his bow came a few degrees short of the proper depth he owed her. There was a certain closeness that they technically held as childhood friends; as far as Azula was concerned, it was an illusion and nothing more.

Her golden eyes were steel. “Ruon-Jian,” she acknowledged. It was a blow Asahi did not miss. “Mai’s not here, and Chan and I were on a date. What do you want?”

“Can’t I say hi to my friends?” Ruon-Jian asked.

“No,” Azula said.

Asahi tousled his hair. “She’s kidding. Maybe,” he said.

“Princess Azula in a bad mood. Who would have guessed?” Ruon-Jian asked.

Asahi’s lips flickered into a smile. 

Azula wondered what he would look like with his eyes gouged out of their sockets. The thought satisfied her somewhat, but it did not soothe the irritation in her belly.

“Fire Emperor Ozai caught her reading about the avatar,” Asahi said.

“Who told you that?” Azula demanded.

Asahi had the audacity to look confused. “I heard it from one of the servants. She said you might be upset because of it,” he said very slowly.

“She’s fired then,” Azula said.

“You were reading about the avatar?” Ruon-Jian asked.

“Yes, for my studies,” Azula said. She had no qualms lying to the likes of him. “It’s part of the curriculum,—which you should know since you managed to graduate from the Imperial Fire Academy for Boys—and I was only furthering my education.”

Ruon-Jian chose to move past that quip. “I bet your favorite avatar is Kyoshi.”

Azula’s fingers twitched. What she wouldn’t give to be allowed to send a perfect bolt of lightning through his head or even to simply press her flaming hand to his skin until burned. The burning point for a firebender’s flesh was higher than that of anyone else’s. While Azula had been so privileged as to see the burning of a firebender before, she had never herself been permitted to burn another so.

“I don’t have a favorite avatar. That would be treasonous,” she said dutifully.

“Oh, it’s definitely Kyoshi then,” Ruon-Jian said.

Asahi gave Ruon-Jian a slight push. “Knock it off, Ruon-Jian, come on.”

Azula was not so naïve as to think he cared about her feelings for altruistic reasons. Asahi was worried that if she got mad, there would be hell to pay. He feared only for his and Ruon-Jian’s well-being, and he was right to do so.

“You come on. She definitely loves Kyoshi. Just because she’s a good firebender, and Kyoshi was the avatar, she thinks you’re lucky she tells you to sit and stay,” Ruon-Jian said with a laugh.

His insecurity was obvious at least. Azula was the best firebender of their generation, and Ruon-Jian would never catch up to her. None of the firebenders of her generation would. Not when Azula was the one who spent breaks training from sunrise to sunset, who studied the bending styles of other elements and put forth what she learned into her firebending, who had been dubbed a prodigy by her grandfather, Fire Emperor Azulon, who wielded blue flames.

“I’m not her lap dog,” Asahi said heatedly. His face was mantling. “I’m a soldier; Azula knows that, and she respects me.”

“Yes, Chan, you’re such a brave soldier, sitting around in Heian-kyō while the real men fight the war,” Azula said. “And, Ruon-Jian, with your firebending prowess, how has Omashu not fallen at our great country’s feet yet? Tell me, how do you two feel about the war efforts on that front considering your fathers’ involvement? You’ve both undergone genpuku, and yet neither of you have been deployed to serve under them. Do you find that odd? Do you think that perhaps they have no faith in you?”

Both their faces were red now. Azula knew that were they lesser firebenders, their fingers would be smoking.

“My father raised me to be strong. It’s not a matter of faith; I’ll be deployed once we’re married so the line of succession doesn’t end with you,” Asahi said.

The reminder of their upcoming wedding and the consummation of it made Azula’s nostrils flare. She hated Asahi. She hated everything he represented.

“Your deployment can be arranged for a sooner date if you’d like,” she said. “We are closing in on a capture date for Omashu, after all.”

“We are?” Ruon-Jian asked.

Azula’s mouth twisted into a cold smirk. “Yes, Ruon-Jian, we are. While the two of you have been sitting around complaining about the superiority of others, I’ve been sitting in on war council meetings. My father says I’ve been of great service in them, actually. I’m sure if I put in a good word for either of you, he’d listen.”

It was not an empty threat, and so Asahi and Ruon-Jian both paled.

---

It had been a week straight on Kyoshi Island of the three of them starting to learn Jigueo, of Sokka training with the Kyoshi Warriors for hours on end, of Aang trying to avoid the attention of all the excitable girls around their age, and of Katara trying to befriend Unagi so that she and Aang could practice their waterbending without worrying about being attacked by the beast. As she struggled to bend every last drop of water out of her clothes the way Anh had taught her to do, Katara grimaced. Of the three of them, Sokka was having the most success in his endeavor thus far. It was deeply frustrating.

It wasn’t that she was unhappy for her brother or even jealous of his surprisingly burgeoning swordsmanship; Katara was content with her waterbending. Before everything had gone horribly, despairingly wrong, Anh had said she was making good progress now that she had support, that she had made good progress in learning to waterbend at all without a teacher. It was just…

She felt useless if she wasn’t getting stronger. It was more than that, though.

Katara missed Anh.

She missed the wry smiles and pretenses of indifference. She missed the way Anh lit up when she talked about waterbending. Her chest still ached every time she remembered that Anh was gone. They didn’t know if they ought to honor her with the funeral rites of Đất Nam or by abiding by naasiivik, the five-day mourning period of the Water People; everything had happened so fast, and arriving on Kyoshi Island… they hadn’t found the words to tell any of their new friends what they had lost. That was not to say that the five days following Anh’s sacrifice had been without grief. Every minute Katara, Sokka, and Aang had been alone had been a minute of quiet contemplation about the newest person the Empire of Fire had stolen from them.

But they had to keep moving. Katara knew that.

She could not wallow in the weight of Anh’s absence, so she got up every morning, and she went to work training. Aang was going to end the war, and she would be by his side every step of the way, helping him, teaching him, fighting by his side. They all would. Her and Sokka and the Kyoshi Warriors, they were going to fight back.

That was, if Aang could stop being chased around by empty-headed girls long enough to pay attention when Katara was trying to teach him the basic waterbending forms Anh had taught her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she grumbled.

Another girl was giggling as she watched Aang move his arms fluidly as Katara had just done. He still was yet to move the water at all, but these girls kept showing up to bat their eyes at him and blush. Katara didn’t understand how anyone could think about boys at a time like this. Sure, Aang was sweet and funny and cute and he had certainly gotten a bit taller since Katara had met him, but they were fighting a war. It was selfish to entertain infatuations so long as the Empire of Fire was in power.

“I think acknowledging them makes it worse,” Aang said, his voice low.

Katara looked at him closely. Pink was spreading across his cheeks, tinging even his ears. She couldn’t believe him. 

Glaring, she splashed him with a jet of water. “You’re enjoying this.”

“What?” His eyes were wide, and his face was dripping now. “How could you think that?”

“You’re blushing! All these cute girls are hanging all over you, and you’re blushing about it! I don’t know why I’m even bothering if that’s what you’re thinking about. No wonder you can’t waterbend.”

Aang’s expression fell. The pink hue on his face was gone. He looked pained.

She had done that to him, to someone she cared about, someone who was doing his best. It wasn’t his fault if girls were drawn to him. She shouldn’t lash out at him. Not like this.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Aang said. “I just—”

“Why are you being so mean to Aang?” the girl demanded.

Katara opened her mouth to tell her that this wasn’t any of her business.

Aang beat her to it. “Leave Katara alone. I don’t want anyone yelling at her on my behalf. She’s my friend, and I care about her a lot, okay? And she’s not wrong—I can’t waterbend.” His face was pinched. He looked angrier than Katara had ever seen him, but he also looked like he might cry.

“Can you leave us alone?” Katara asked the girl. “Please.”

The girl made a face, but she left.

“Aang, I’m so sorry,” Katara said.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve been distracted. I mean, I don’t—I don’t know if I liked the attention, but… it made me feel… like if I was focusing on them, then I didn’t have to deal with what happened in Đất Nam or at the Air Temples or any of it. Even if I was just thinking about avoiding them, I wasn’t thinking about everything I have to lose or that I’ve already lost,” Aang said. “I’m sorry.”

Katara pressed her face against his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. She wanted to memorize this boy. She wanted to hold onto him as long as she could. She wanted him to know how loved he was. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but she knew that she forgave him.

---

Azula was making that awful face again. One of the ones Mai had learned to watch for so long ago she no longer remembered not knowing what it meant; Azula was wound so tightly that she might just snap. Mai never wanted to see that. For her own sake as much as for Azula’s.

Mai took Azula’s hand, and she started to stab around each finger quickly. With Azula, she didn’t have to ask for permission to play pin finger. She didn’t have to ask for permission to do most things with Azula. Even the things Azula didn’t want to do she would usually agree to if Mai asked. Azula took more than Mai should let her, but it wasn’t as if Mai’s hands were clean when it came to the princess.

“You’ll take my finger off,” Azula said.

“Don’t lie,” Mai said.

Azula’s lips quirked up.

Mai felt her own flicker the same. Mirror half-smiles from girls who had never been allowed to know a joy that was their own. It was almost soft.

“You could cut me,” Azula said.

Mai’s hand was going faster, moving the knife between each space of Azula’s flattened hand. She wouldn’t draw blood, though. They’d danced this dance before, over and over again. “You could have a little faith.”

“In you? Always,” Azula said. “In this game? Never.”

Laughter rose from Mai’s chest like a stream of the silk ribbons that she tied her hair with. One by one, the knots that Azula was composed of were coming undone. She would not have to see Azula snap. Not today.

“You know you’re already a Master Firebender,” Mai said.

“You disagree with my father’s decision?” Azula asked.

Mai didn’t look up from Azula’s hand this time. She didn’t want to see Azula’s face now. She didn’t want to know the weight of Azula’s question. She didn’t want to know if she had ruined their day yet.

“It was only one hair out of place,” Mai said. “You know you could outbend most grown men.”

Azula laughed shortly. It was not a pretty sound, and it made Mai hesitate with her next stab and narrowly miss cutting Azula’s skin open. They were playing a dangerous game.

This was the problem with the world they had constructed around them; as stable as it seemed when things were good, it was always two blows short of collapsing. This was the problem with the girl Fire Emperor Ozai had forged; as strong as she was on the battlefield or in the Imperial Court, she was always standing on the precipice of her own destruction. Not breaking either was an art form Mai knew to be more important than calligraphy or knife throwing.

She put the knife down. It was time to stop pushing.

“See? I didn’t cut you.”

“Not this time.”

---

Bongseon was going to teach Katara a trick to tame Unagi. She’d been dancing around the idea of actually asking one of the Kyoshi Warriors for some time now, but in the end, Bongseon had approached her to tell her she obviously needed help with the creature.

Katara had tried to thank her profusely, but Bongseon had gotten a touch embarrassed and insisted that they skip over those pleasantries. Katara could tell she was a serious girl like that.

“Okay, so we need treats, first and foremost,” Bongseon said. “Unagi is… kind of like a wolf dog. She’s fiercely loyal, and she wants to be loved, but she’ll also eat you if you mess with her.”

“Good to know,” Katara said. She was getting more nervous by the second. Would that thing have really eaten her if she’d upset it enough?”

Bongseon walked fast, a side effect of being so tall, Katara supposed. She was having to double her usual pace to keep up, and it wasn’t like she was short herself. She was trying to calm her breathing by the time Bongseon had finished leading her to the shed where they stored Unagi’s food—when she wasn’t eating people the Kyoshi Warriors fed her, at least.

“We’ll bring a bucketful to be safe,” Bongseon said. She handed the bucket to Katara and began to fill it with the treats.

“We need a whole bucket?” Katara asked. It was getting heavy in her grasp. Katara had helped Sokka do the hunting for their village for a few years, so she’d put on some decent muscle, but Unagi’s actual residence was kind of far from this shed.

“Not normally, but if Unagi eats you, Suki will have my head. She’s really fond of you—and your brother,” Bongseon said.

That was somewhat flattering. Katara stood a little straighter under the weight of the bucket. Bongseon finished adding one last scooping of food to it.

“Come on, Katara,” Bongseon said. “You’ve got an Unagi to feed.”

“How did you guys befriend her?” Katara asked as they started out toward the creature.

Bongseon snorted. “Oh, that was all Suki and Chae-won,” she said. “I was terrified of her.”

“Really? You don’t seem like you’d be afraid of anything.”

“Thanks, but have you seen Unagi? Anyway, it was Chae’s idea. She came to Suki, saying she hated how the flame spitters abused poor Unagi—she named the damn thing if you can believe it. Chae pouted, of course, and Suki gave in immediately. She likes to think she’s so tough, but no one can say to Chae-won,” Bongseon said. There was a fond look in her eyes. “Anyway, they got some slop together, and they sneaked down at night to feed Unagi. It took a few weeks to gain her trust, but once they had it, they started making me come with them to talk to her. Eventually, she let us pet her, and she ate anything we gave her. Including soldiers.”

Katara’s eyes went wide. “She really eats people?”

“Yep,” Bongseon said, “but we haven’t had any casualties in a few years. You should be fine. Just offer her food, let her come to you, and when she does, try petting her between the eyes. That’s where she likes it best. I can get Aang to hold your hand if you get scared.”

Katara twitched. “It’s not like that! We’re fighting a war, you know!”

“Whatever you say,” Bongseon said, but she was smiling. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve got a crush on Chae-won and Suki. We’re warriors, yeah, but we’re also teenagers. It’s normal.”

“I don’t have a crush,” Katara said firmly.

---

Zuko was trying to show a shopkeeper of Gaya the boomerang that belonged to the water peasant. The man, though, would not look at the boomerang unless Zuko bought one of his worthless trinkets. Not only did Zuko not have any of the acceptable barter currency that was used in Gaya, but he would not have wasted hemp or silk cloths on anything as frivolous as what this man was peddling.

“Listen, old man, I just need you to look at this and tell me if you’ve seen anyone with a war club in a similar style,” Zuko said. He was trying to keep his voice down. It was important they not cause another commotion when they were in enemy territory.

“And I just need you to consider buying this soju glass set!” the man stubbornly said.

Zuko had to take several very deep breaths to calm his inner and outer flames. This was ridiculous. These people were impossible to reason with. He’d been here for over a week now, and he still hadn’t found any leads on the avatar.

His uncle had been shooting down the idea of going to Kyoshi Island since they had expelled the imperal occupation the previous year. Something about how it would be foolish to go to enemy territory with such strong warriors.

Zuko was sure, though, that the avatar must be hiding out there. He only needed to get confirmation from one of these damned citizens of Gaya to convince Iroh that it was their best bet.

It was an exercise in patience, certainly, and not bad practice of his Jigueo.

“I’ll even give you a good deal on it,” the man said. “Look at how beautiful they are—do you see this?”

It took everything in Zuko not to scream.

---

Suki had laughed at Sokka the first time he’d tried this hyeong. With the form of an earthbender, as she had explained to him, he cut and kicked through the air in a dry run of it. It was one of the more complex beginner hyeong that combined martial arts with swordsmanship but didn’t require an in-depth knowledge of any martial arts. Despite his panting, Sokka thought he’d done a good job with it.

“Not bad,” Suki said.

“That’s it!?” Sokka asked.

She laughed, full-bellied and pretty. The sound was almost nice enough to distract him from her lackluster praise. Suki, as it was turning out, was not big on positive reinforcement in her teaching. At least, not with Sokka.

“You know, some people would be really impressed. It’s only been—” he took a second to think “—two weeks since I started training, and I’ve made a lot of progress.”

Suki’s eyes crinkled from underneath her warrior’s makeup. “I know, Sokka, but I don’t want your ego getting too big.”

“Oh, so you admit there’s a reason for my ego to be big?” Sokka asked.

“No one said that!” she said. She was clutching her stomach now.

“You kind of did!” He was grinning back at her. She looked so pretty when she set down the weight of leading the Kyoshi Warriors for just a minute.

So maybe he was starting to develop a tiny crush. He wasn’t going to let it get in the way of learning to sword fight, and he wasn’t going to entertain it beyond teasing her. And if it helped take his mind off of Anh, all the better. This much was allowed. That’s what Aang had said when he had seen Sokka and Suki laughing together at dinner a few nights ago, at least. Aang wouldn’t lie to him, so Sokka wasn’t going to beat himself up about a stupid little infatuation with a pretty girl. Especially not when the girl was as pretty as Suki.

“Whatever, maybe your progress is a little impressive. It’s only ‘cause you have such a good teacher,” Suki said.

“Right, how could I forget? Thank you, Sabeomnin,” he said with a bow. His Jigueo was clumsy, but it was similar enough to Higo that he thought he wasn’t so bad at it.

Suki rolled her eyes at him and told him to run the hyeong again. He took it as a good sign. Maybe those still existed after all.

---

Tonight was not a banquet. They were doing something more private to celebrate Sokka finally graduating to a real jingum instead of the practice one: a dinner with only Sokka, Aang, Katara, Suki, and Suki’s mother, Jee. Suki was worried, to say the least.

She’d done a good job these past three weeks keeping her mother away from the avatar and his companions, and now they were going to meet her. Her face was warm at the thought. As much as Suki loved her mother, the woman was still her mother. She didn’t know how this meeting would go or what her mother might tell her new friends about her.

As embarrassing as it was, Suki was worried about what her mother would say to Sokka. It had been a while since she’d had a crush on someone. She hadn’t told her mother or anyone other than Bongseon and Chae-won, but she wouldn’t be surprised if her mother could glean it from a few interactions over the course of the dinner.

The woman knew her heart and knew it well.

Suki grimaced as she stared her reflection down. She looked so much weaker without her warrior’s makeup on to hide behind.

“You look great, Sook,” Chae-won said, resting her chin on Suki’s shoulder.

“Seriously. Stop fussing so much,” Bongseon said. “Tonight will be fine, and then you’ll tell us all about how introducing Sokka to your mom went.”

Suki tried to swat at Bongseon, but she was too far out of reach. “It’s not like that,” she huffed.

“Oh, of course not,” Bongseon said mock seriously. “It’s only dinner with the boy you like, his sister, his best friend who’s the avatar, and your mom.”

Chae-won giggled.

“You both suck so bad,” Suki said. She didn’t mean it.

“Report back to us first thing in the morning,” Bongseon said.

Suki groaned, and Chae-won planted a kiss on her cheek to placate her. With a promise to see them both later, Suki was off.

At six, she had been brave enough to tell her mother that she was a girl when the people in power would have killed her for it. At eleven, she’d tamed Unagi. At thirteen, she had illegally co-founded an elite group of warriors and hidden it to avoid being executed alongside her friends. At fourteen, she had killed cremators and chased the remainder of the occupying forces out of her home, away from the people she loved. At fifteen, she was harboring the avatar and his companions. Dinner should be easy. 

---

“Eomma, these are my friends, Aang, Katara, and Sokka,” Suki said. “Guys, this is my mom.”

The three of them bowed respectfully to the woman. Aang could see her daughter’s nose on her face, and the same kindness in her eyes. There was something like steel to her, though.

“It’s an honor to meet you. Please call me Jee,” she said as she bowed back.

“Nice meet you, Jee,” Sokka said, his Jigueo rough.

“Would it be easier for you all if we spoke Higo?” Jee asked. “I know Suki is big on decolonizing, but even I have an easier time with Higo now.”

Sadness washed over Aang in waves. Jee had grown up on Kyoshi Island when it was free from the Empire of Fire, but she had spent nineteen years under occupation. For nineteen years, her mother tongue had been stolen out from her own mouth. These people needed the avatar.

“I learned Jigueo growing up, but if everyone’s comfortable with it, I don’t mind speaking Higo,” Aang said, trying to ignore his guilt.

Suki shrugged. “Practice makes perfect, but sure, we can speak Higo,” she said.

“No, no, Jigueo’s fine,” Sokka said.

Katara and Aang exchanged looks. Katara had to suppress a giggle. 

Sokka had spent a good ten minutes rambling to them about how he wanted to impress Suki tonight by speaking Jigueo with her mother. They’d all been practicing it for the duration of their stay in Kyoshi-si, especially Sokka since he’d been spending the most time with Suki who was by far the most adamant of the citizens about trying to speak Jigueo when she could.

Aang thought it was sweet that Suki and Sokka so obviously liked each other. He’d avoided her and the other Kyoshi Warriors as much as he could since he hated lying to them, but when he had spoken with her, it was apparent that she treated him and Katara very differently than how she treated Sokka. She looked at him differently too. Not like how Aang knew he must look at Katara, but she stole glances at him when she could, and she got starry-eyed when she did.

The five of them sat down to eat the meal Jee had prepared. With both vegetarian and meat-lover options, it looked great to Aang.

“I will eat well,” they said together.

Politely, they waited for Jee to pick up her chopsticks first before they started to dine.

“This is delicious!” Katara said after finishing her soup quietly.

“Seriously, you’re an amazing cook,” Sokka said.

Aang nodded in agreement.

“Thank you; it’s nothing,” Jee said.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?” Aang asked.

“Eomma runs the medicine shop,” Suki said.

“I’ve helped with it ever since I was a girl. My mother ran it in her day. She was… killed during the occupation, but I’ve been honoring her memory by keeping it going ever since,” Jee said.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka said.

Jee’s mouth formed the shape of a smile but with none of the heart of one. “My husband was a cruel man. It’s better that he’s gone now. But enough about such sad manners. How have you three been liking your stay here? Has my Suki been treating you well? I hear she’s teaching you to fight, Sokka.”

“Suki’s been great!” Sokka said. “She’s a really good teacher too.”

“Yeah, and everyone’s been so welcoming. Chae-won and Yihwa even bought us some Three Kingdoms of Earth clothes. It was so nice,” Katara said. She fiddled with the fabric of her jade-dyed jeogori.

“It’s so nice here; I kind of don’t want to leave,” Aang said. “We’ll probably have to go once Sokka reaches the intermediate level of swordsmanship, though..”

Suki paused the motion of her chopsticks. “You could stay longer, you know. Until he reaches the advanced level, at least.” She sounded smaller than Aang had ever heard her.

His chest panged. He was always hurting these people. He would always hurt them as long as he lied, but if he told them the truth now…

Maybe he could defeat the Fire Emperor with airbending alone. He really was a Master Airbender. Could that make up for his lie? Could anything?

There was screaming from outside. The door tore open, and Hana appeared in it. “They’re here!” she said. “The Empire of Fire is here!”

Aang lept to his feet. 

“Is it a teenager with a scar over his eye?” Sokka asked.

“And the Dragon of Death?” Katara added.

Hana nodded. 

“Zuko,” Aang said.

“They’ve got others too—mostly firebenders, a few nonbenders. I counted twenty. The Kyoshi Warriors are fighting them, but they’re razing everything! Bongseon sent me to find you,” Hana sounded frantic and close to tears

“We have to get the avatar out of here. We can take of this,” Suki said. “Eomma, lead them to Appa then hide yourself.”

“We can’t leave,” Aang said.

Suki looked nothing like Anh with her pale skin and short hair, but in that moment, all Aang could see was Anh begging them to leave her. He wouldn’t choose that again. None of them would.

“We don’t run anymore,” Sokka said. It was a vow to the people of Kyoshi-si and themselves. It was an apology for Anh and all that they didn’t save her from.

“Aang’s the avatar, I’ve got Tui and La on my side, and Sokka’s been training all this time,” Katara said. “Please let us help you.”

Suki faltered.

“I won’t leave you either. You are my daughter; I have killed for you, and I will do so again,” Jee said.

“… Okay. We fight together,” Suki said. “Hana, everything is going to be okay. We beat them once in greater numbers, and we’ll beat them again. No one dies on my watch.”

---

Everything was in flames. Shops, houses, all of it. Katara could taste the ash of it all. She hated the firebenders. She hated Zuko and the Dragon of Death and all of them. These people had been kind to her, every last one of them, and they had sheltered her and Sokka and Aang. They didn’t deserve this.

Katara raised her arms, and she began to waterbend from the basin she had been supplied with to the best of her ability. She had to focus on putting out as many of the fires as she could while Aang, Sokka, and the Kyoshi Warriors fought Zuko and his men. Only once the people of Kyoshi-si were no longer in danger of losing everything could she direct her anger toward these monsters.

The sound of sizzling and screams and the clashing of swords echoed in her eardrums as she washed over each flame, desperate to soothe the damage done. She could see fans twirling and disarming the nonbenders in Zuko’s crew, but she focused in on the fires.

She could do this. She had been training, and the task on hand didn’t require complex waterbending at all. All she had to do was move the water from point A to point B to point C, trying to minimize the loss of water in the earth beneath them as much as possible. Katara could do it. She had to do it.

A jet of flames flew past her, their heat grazing her.

“Don’t touch her!” Sokka said, charging the flame’s source with his jingum held steady.

The firebender dodged the slash. His attention was now fully on Sokka. He directed a blitz of rapid-fire attacks at Sokka, burning Sokka’s right shoulder as he did it.

Sokka screamed, and Katara screamed with him.

She would not stand by as this monster killed her brother. Bending the water into a tentacle as Anh had taught her, she struck. The man was knocked off balance, and Sokka, holding his jingum with his left hand now, stabbed through the man’s belly where his plates of armor had an opening.

Sokka threw up in the aftermath. Katara didn’t even glance to see how many fires she had left to put out before she ran to him, water forgotten.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded with spit and bile both dribbling down his chin.

“Let me help you,” she said, slinging his left arm over her. “On the count of three, okay? One, two—”

Together, they rose.

“I really killed a guy,” he said.

“He deserved it,” Katara said. “For what he was doing to the island.”

“For what he was gonna do to you,” Sokka said. “Now get back to putting out those fires, okay? I’ll be fine.”

---

The attack was not going as planned. Zuko wanted the avatar; not the Kyoshi Warriors or even Kyoshi Island. He was sure his father would appreciate if he recovered control of the island, but he knew that if the new Kyoshi Warriors were strong enough to have expelled the governing forces, then his crew held little hope of taking control once more. All he could hope for was the avatar, and if they had to burn this city to get him, so be it.

Still, his men were distracted from their task, and his uncle was behaving uselessly in combat.

A Kyoshi Warrior with short hair was charging him. Quickly, Zuko drew the boomerang he had taken from the water peasant boy, and he threw it head-on at her. It wouldn’t kill her, but it would incapacitate her long enough for him to focus on finding the avatar in this mess.

The girl caught the boomerang, though. She looked at it with wide eyes and pocketed it. She twirled her jingum artfully in challenge.

Zuko narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t fought with a sword in years, and he was a user of broadswords, but he knew a master when he saw one.

He couldn’t waste time on this girl, though. He kicked out a wall of flames at her, igniting the house nearby as he did.

A woman saved her, though, pulling the girl out of the way. Zuko thought she might be the girl’s mother.

He could remember his own mother warning him once that if you hurt a mother’s child, she would kill you.

“You bastard!” she said, but Zuko was already leaving. He wasn’t going to waste any time fighting the mother-daughter duo.

Finally, he laid eyes upon the bald head of the avatar. He sent a blast of flames the avatar’s way and called out, “Come fight me, you coward!”

“You’re the coward!” the avatar said. “Leave these people alone! They didn’t do anything to you!”

“They harbored you, didn’t they?” Zuko shot back, taking a fighting stance.

The avatar squared his shoulders, ready to fight.

Zuko didn’t know what he had learned in Kakōryū-wan or in Kyoshi-si—the Kyoshi Warriors were famously nonbenders, but there could easily be earthbenders in the city to teach him. Immediately, he went on the offensive, rushing the avatar. He sent several fire-ladden jabs his opponent’s way, but, frustratingly, the boy dodged each one. He was an airbender to his core. 

Zuko sent a crescent kick the avatar’s way.

Another effortless dodge of his attack. The avatar had his hands behind his back.

“Why won’t you attack me!?” Zuko demanded. “Do you respect me so little?”

“I don’t respect you at all. Not after what you did to Anh,” the avatar said.

Was that the earthbender girl’s name? Zuko had been too busy dealing with the avatar’s escape and that bastard Zhao to learn it that day.

“Your friend broke the law, but I guess a fugitive like you wouldn’t care about that,” Zuko said, his flames surrounding them both now. He was panting from the exertion. This felt familiar—this felt like fighting Azula who always turned his power back on him at his weakest moment.

Zuko’s eyes widened, and he frantically went to strike the avatar between the eyes. 

The avatar struck, sending his punch off course with a gust of air. He delivered a series of blows of airbending forms to Zuko before sending a contactless kick of a rapidly spinning ball of air to Zuko’s stomach, knocking him onto the ground and disorienting him completely.

Zuko’s ears rang from the floor. He could see the orange glow dimming in the surroundings. There were men he recognized who had never respected him lying still on the ground. He was beaten.

“Leave,” Aang said. “Your men are outclassed by the Kyoshi Warriors, and I don’t want to kill you. Even your life has value in my culture, so I’m giving you the opportunity to retreat. But I’m warning you, the next time you come after innocent people, I will protect them.”

Zuko stared up at the boy-avatar, and the cold hands of fear gripped his heart.

---

Kyoshi-si was in ashes. Katara had saved many homes, but she was only one waterbender. No one had expected her to save them all.

There had been no casualties on their side, at least. A few of Zuko’s men had been killed, but none of the Kyoshi Warriors or the other citizens had fallen. Several were injured, but they would heal. Not all had been stolen.

As he helped feed the remains of the dead to Unagi, Sokka couldn’t help but be angry that they hadn’t been able to protect everything, though. That anyone had been injured at all.

“I’m sorry we brought them here,” Aang said.

“Don’t be,” Suki said. “We reminded them they should be afraid of us.”

Sokka didn’t know how she did it.

He didn’t know that he wanted to find out either.

“Still,” Katara said.

“We should probably leave soon,” Sokka sighed. “So they don’t come back.”

Suki looked at him, and he felt raw and cut open. “Maybe, but I think we’ll be leaving too. The Kyoshi Warriors, I mean.”

“What? Why? I thought you guys had to stay here to protect the island,” Sokka said.

Bongseon answered, “So did we. But you saw how everyone fought back. Our parents are pretty capable—everyone on this island is.”

“We think we’ve been underestimating them,” Chae-won said, “and they think that the rest of the Three Kingdoms of Earth need us.”

“Really?” Aang asked.

Suki nodded. “My mom swears up and down they’ll be safe without us. She wasn’t lying; she’s killed ashmakers before. And you saw them fighting with us. They’re more capable than we’ve given them credit for. Besides, if we want to be taken seriously, we can’t just play at war here. We have to actually go out and fight the enemy.”

“I hope we run into each other again then,” Katara said.

Suki was looking at Sokka when she replied, “So do I.”

“Yeah. Definitely,” he said.

Whatever moment they were having came crashing to a halt when Bongseon pushed the next corpse toward Unagi who snapped it up greedily.

“Good girl,” Katara said, petting the creature between its eyes.

Aang did the same.

Sokka felt distinctly like he’d missed something.

“Oh, by the way, Sokka, I found something you lost,” Suki said. “That Zuko bastard had it.”

---

They were sparring today. Their semester break was almost at an end, and Azula had insisted upon training as if she’d somehow been slacking before. Mai knew that Azula never slacked off, though. She was more than half convinced that the princess didn’t know how to. It was grating at times.

Especially times during which Mai ended a spar with Azula’s weight on top of her, trapping her as a blade of blue flames was held so that it almost licked at Mai’s throat.

“You’re aggressive today,” Mai said.

“I fight to win,” Azula said. It lacked her usual unnerving calmness. 

Azula was a wreck. She had been for weeks now. They both knew it. Azula had been volatile and vicious during the spar, and if Mai had had a different face, she wasn’t sure Azula would have spared her at the end of it.

“What’s wrong?” Mai asked, not bothering to push Azula off of her.

“Nothing is wrong,” Azula snapped. Her painted lips were curled into a sneer, and Mai hated that she still looked pretty for it.

Mai wanted to cut the expression off of Azula’s face. She wanted to feel purposeful and remedy this piss-poor mood Azula had been in as of late. “You’re usually a better liar. Is someone dying? It’s not about your presentation,—you’re too good for that—but that’s when it started.”

“Aren’t you a detective?” Azula asked.

“I’m your friend,” Mai said. Azula preferred to think of Mai as her ally. Allies were a strength; friends were a weakness. She’d learned that in her preparations for court politics. Mai had been seven, and Azula had been six. Still, Mai knew that friend was the closest word for what they were. Allies could be swayed, and Mai had never been more solid and immovable than she was at Azula’s side.

Azula’s eyes were sharper than any of Mai’s blades and lacquered golden.

Mai stood firm.

“Your uncle… the Fire Sage,” Azula said. “He… said something to me. It was preposterous but still. It was something no one should ever voice.”

Mai’s heart stuttered in her chest. “What did he do?” she asked. Her uncle Shyu was fond of her, but she thought there would be no real love lost if he had hurt Azula in any way. Mai’s loyalty was Azula’s before it was her own blood’s.

Azula was the future of her country and her oldest friend alike.

“He said that I was the avatar,” Azula said.

Mai blinked. Of all the things she had expected Azula to say, that had not been one of them.

“He’s a fool, of course,” Azula continued.

“What if he’s not?” Mai asked.

Azula’s blade of flame pressed closer to Mai’s throat. It wasn’t burning her yet, but it was uncomfortably hot so close to her flesh.

“It would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

Azula’s free hand dug its nails into the silk shoulder of Mai’s furisode. “To be a traitor to the Dragon Throne?”

“We’d go sightseeing,” Mai said. “Anyway, you’re not a traitor.”

“I’m not the avatar,” Azula said.

Mai rolled her eyes. “Treason would be more interesting than watching my parents try to salvage my betrothal contract situation.” Her parents firmly believed that if they prostrated themselves enough then Fire Emperor Ozai would reward them with something to smooth over the fact that he had exiled Mai’s betrothed. It had been funny at first, but after two years, it was starting to grate Mai’s nerves.

“Yes, being executed would be so interesting,” Azula snarled.

Mai shrugged. “That’s if Oji-san was telling the truth. I don’t see why he’d lie, though. He’s not even any good at it. You should see him tell Ojii-sama that he’s happy with his life.”

“It could be a test to ensure my loyalty to the Great Empire of Fire above all else,” Azula said.

“Wouldn’t Fire Emperor Ozai have confronted you by now if it was?” Mai asked.

The flame disappeared, and Azula mouthed words silently for a long moment before landing on: “Perhaps!”

“If it’s bothering you this much, why don’t we just go visit the Fire Temple?”

“… It’s the last day of semester break.”

“So we’ll go over the next holiday we get off: your birthday. We can leave the day before, right after our lessons. If we take a hot air balloon, it won’t even take a day to reach the ferry.”

Azula finally got off Mai and offered a hand in the national symbol of reconciliation. “My birthday is not a holiday; summer solstice is.”

Mai accepted. “It’s the same thing.”

For the first time all day, Azula smiled.

Notes:

additional cw: mentioned forced marriage, death, mentioned violent transmisogyny

cultural and translation notes:
- koi-koi is a japanese card game played with hanafuda or flower cards, "koi koi" means roughly "come on"
- "joka" is korean for nephew
- "samchon" is korean for uncle
- "eomma" is a more affectionate way to refer to your mom in korean
- "woldo" is a type of korean weapon comparable to a yaoyindao. it's a bladed polearm
- "jingum" is a true sword or a sword used in combat not for ceremonial purpose
- "hyeong" is the same as a kata or a form but in korean
- "sabeomnin" is a respectful way to refer to your master/coach in korean martial arts
- "jeogori" is the top half of a hanbok

Chapter 5: The Kingdom of Omashu (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this is late, and it's a shorter chapter that goes slower, and i had to add an extra chapter to the overall fic because of it, but we are so so so so close to azula and the gaang's convergence.

also, i made some revisions (nothing major or plot-changing) to the last few chapters. the main ones i can think of rn are that "avatar" will no longer be capitalized as a proper noun and the water tribe are now the water people (this is due to the racism behind the word tribe).

content warnings are as always in the end notes.

A fortnight of travel by a cycling combination of both foot and a rapidly shedding sky bison had worn them down greatly. They were underfed. They had no money for foods or hunting tools. 

Katara’s stomach was growing rapidly used to the empty ache of hunger settled into hunger, but it still left her short-fused and bag-eyed in a way she could not sleep away. She had snapped at both Aang and Sokka far more than she was willing to admit. Even Appa and Momo seemed grouchy from hunger with Momo squabbling with all of them at every chance and Appa’s newfound stubbornness about flying.

Worse than the hunger was how ashamed Katara was of how the acrid stench of sweat and grime clung to them. Their infrequent stops in towns to use public bathhouses did little to quell the smell, especially once it started to embed itself in each pair of clothing they had with them. So they skirted around the edges of villages and towns when they passed through them, desperate not to get too close to anyone who might pinch their nose in disgust at the stink of them.

At the very least, they were well into the Kingdom of Omashu now; they were nearing its heart and capital, Omashu-si, where Aang promised them an old earthbender friend named Bumi lived.

Sokka had been skeptical about if Bumi would still be alive until Katara had pointed out that Omashu’s now abdicated king was famously one-hundred-and-twelve.

“Oh, that’s Bumi!” Aang had said.

Katara and Sokka’s jaws had dropped.

“What? Did I forget to tell you he was the prince? Well, I guess he’s not the prince anymore, but he’s not the king anymore either. Sorry! I thought I told you guys.”

He had neglected to mention that detail.

But they had gotten over how well-connected Aang was turning out to be around the same time they had started bickering with each other about their hunger. At least they were close to Omashu-si now. Aang assured them that once they found an audience with Bumi they’d be fed and bathed and perhaps even given a new change of clothing.

Bumi and Aang had been close growing up despite Bumi’s royal upbringing. So long as Bumi hadn’t forgotten his good friend in the near-century since Aang had been frozen in ice, their group should be welcomed warmly and kindly. Even if Bumi had somehow forgotten Aang, no one could forget the avatar.

Sokka had been quick to point out that ninety-nine years was a long time to remember someone you knew as a kid. Still, Katara thought that if Aang was that someone, she could do it. And when she considered the genocide of the Air Nomads, Katara knew that Bumi couldn’t have possibly forgotten his childhood friend. Even if it took him a moment to place Aang’s face, she was sure he had been carrying the memory of him for all these years. She could feel it in her gut. Or maybe that was another pang of hunger.

They couldn’t get to the capital fast enough.

---

Mai stared at herself in the mirror. She was quickly approaching her fifteenth summer. Her fifteenth Early-rice-planting Month, the month she’d been born in, so silent even then that her parents had cried for their loss before she let out a sob. 

She was becoming a woman. She thought she might never look the part, even with the thinness of her cheeks and the blank seriousness she wore like her favorite obi. She was tall and lean, but there was a sullenness to her that made her seem more childish than she had felt in years.

“Can we do something about my hair?” she asked the servant, Higa Akari, who was preparing her for her presentation to her grandfather.

“Of course, Ojō-sama,” she said. “Do you want to try a different style?”

“Yes, Higa-san,” Mai said.

“What do you have in mind?” Higa asked.

Mai considered the question. She could ask for a phoenix-tail. It would be somewhat scandalous for her to wear it before her genpuku, but she knew Higa would obey her well enough in spite of that. She thought Higa might get into some trouble, though, and she rather liked the woman, so she did not voice the desire. 

Maybe she could ask for a bridal hairstyle. After all, she was born to be a bride. If Zuko hadn’t been too soft and too foolish, their wedding would be rapidly approaching. A marriage that had wilted before it had come to fruition.

It was ridiculous. Azula would laugh in Mai’s face if she found out.

Mai shook her head of the idea. “Can we try something mostly down? With an ornate comb to top it off—the one with the Nakatomi mon on it,” Mai requested. It was appropriate for her burgeoning womanhood, and her grandfather would appreciate the gesture of respect for her blood.

“Of course, Ojō-sama. I’ll get right on it,” Higa said.

Mai tried to smile in the mirror. She found it cut her face horribly. She dropped her lips, opting to instead stare her blank expression down as Higa worked through her hair with camellia oil to soften it. She shouldn’t close her eyes during this. It might make her think of things she ought not to: the princess’ hands in her hair, uncharacteristically gentle even when she tugged at it; her mother’s total disappointment the day Zuko was exiled, intensified when Mai tried to joke that she could just marry Azula instead; Zuko’s attempts to tie her hair into two buns, saying he was practicing for when they were wed; her father’s distance, pried even further open with the weight of her mother’s new pregnancy; Ty Lee’s dedication to braiding flowers into her hair as she recited a morbid nursery rhyme with a bright smile splitting her lips. It was dizzying to even remember these things. Like having the air sucked out of her lungs.

But Mai found that the blackness of her eyelids was far more appealing than the white of her skin in the silver mirror or the dark of her eyes pinned in their sockets. It was too easy to miss Ty Lee like this, and it was too easy to yearn for Azula’s hands and Zuko’s too, and it was too easy to forget her anger and her fear alike.

Finally, Mai forced her eyes open, blinking wildly as the blur faded and the sentimentality withered.

“All done, Ojō-sama,” Higa said, smiling brightly.

“Right. Thanks,” Mai said. She left with haste, not wanting to stand there a second longer.

Her mother was waiting for her in the corridor. Her stomach was rounding, and her hair was cascading all around. She was glowing, but there was still a sternness to her face. She looked at Mai like she always did. She stared a long while with her brows knit. Finally, she reached out. Her nails were blood red.

Mai did not flinch as her mother caressed her cheek, cold as her hand was, bright as her eyes were.

“You’ll be late. Your grandfather hates tardiness,” her mother said. It was scolding but not unwarranted. Mai had loitered too long.

“I’m sorry, Haha-ue” she said obediently.

Her mother’s nails scraped the height of her cheekbone ever so slightly. Mai was sure there was powder pressed into their underside now.

“Well… he’ll forgive his favorite granddaughter.” While Meiji was rather fond of her, Mai was also his only granddaughter. Aside from Ukano, his children had bore him grandsons. There had been two other granddaughters once upon a time, but neither had survived childhood. “Just be sure to express interest in the shrine maiden training, and flatter him. But not too obviously. Okay? I want you to have options, Mai.”

Mai was still, save for the movement of her mouth. “I understand.”

“Hurry along then.”

---

As it turned out, Omashu-si existed in shades of brown and beige. It was dotted with uniformly green-roofed buildings, and it sat on a neat circle on an earthbender-made plateau. It wasn’t the lush foliage of Đất Nam, the tropical beaches of Kyoshi Island, the haunting architecture of Southern Air Temple, or the pearly tundra of Amrok Aquk. Even having traveled through some of the earthbender cities, towns, and villages of the larger Kingdom of Omashu, it was still unlike anything that Katara had seen before.

While many of the places they’d stopped in had been marked with what Aang had pointed out to them as obvious signs of earthbender construction, not one of them had been as elaborate or as impressive as Omashu-si was as they ascended the steps to it.

“Why are there so many stairs?” Sokka asked. The sword Suki had gifted him and the boomerang she had returned to him were both clanking as he walked.

“Maybe because they look so cool!” Aang joked.

“Well, they suck to use them!” Sokka said.

Katara laughed. “All that training with the Kyoshi Warriors, and you never worked on cardio? What, were you too busy flirting with Suki?”

Sokka’s face looked warm, and he did not dignify that with a verbal response beyond some spluttering. Katara thought it counted as a win and exchanged cheek-hurting grins with Aang.

For the first time, it did not bother her that she was so used to their stink at this point that it hardly registered in her nose, and it did not bother her that her stomach was shrinking with each meal they did not eat in full. They were going to have a hot meal and a hot bath, and hopefully, they would get to wash the sweat out of their clothing too if they couldn’t be provided with replacements.

As they passed through the security of the city, Katara barely even noticed how many men were guarding it. She was sure it was nothing abnormal, really. The Queen of Omashu and her children lived here. Of course they would be well protected. 

Katara had heard stories about the Queen from her father and the other men of her village. They said she was great and kind and brave. They said she was an earthbender to rival her father. They said she was the youngest of four, born late in the former King Bumi and the late Queen Consort Su-Ho’s lives, and she had inherited because each of her siblings, Prince Ugeo, Prince Baekho, and Princess Sunwon had met with horrible deaths: childhood illness, firebenders, and infection from injury.

It sounded horrible to Katara to lose your siblings like that. She had lost her mother and husband too. At least she still had her children and her father.

Katara could understand the pain of losing a mother too young, but she couldn’t imagine losing Sokka.

“Do you think she’s nice?” Aang asked, breaking Katara from her thoughts.

“Who?” she asked.

“Bumi’s daughter,” he said.

“People say she is,” Sokka said, “but they’re her subjects—they have to say that.”

Katara hadn’t thought about it that way. “Well, you said Bumi was a good guy. I’m sure he raised Queen Chung-ha to be like him.”

“Yeah…” Aang said, “I just hope Bumi hasn’t changed too much.”

Katara felt her heart lurch. She didn’t know how to tell Aang that Bumi had had a lifetime to change and to grow, that he might not recognize his friend at all. The war changed people, and Bumi had been alive for every minute of it. Aang had already lost so much to the war; she didn’t want him to lose the Bumi he had known too. Even if she didn’t see how Bumi could be anything but different.

She slipped her hand into his, and then she slipped her hand into Sokka’s. “So we don’t get lost,” she said.

Aang’s eyes were blown wide, and his face was flushed. She supposed he hadn’t held many girls’ hands before. Maybe she should have asked first.

“Sorry, that was—”

“No, it’s fine,” Aang said.

Sokka was looking at her funny now.

“You look stupid,” she said.

“Well, you smell bad!” Sokka said.

“So do you!”

Maybe they were still short-fused after all, or maybe they were just siblings. It was hard to tell.

---

Azula was seated at her father’s right-hand side in a war council meeting. It was hardly unusual at this point; she had taken this seat time and time again since her thirteenth summer when he had determined that she was prepared for such a challenge in a way her brother had not been. The parallel had not escaped her, but she had not been afraid. She knew when to bow her head and submit to her father’s will, and her brother did not. 

This was the difference between Azula and Zuko.

She would succeed where he had failed, and thus far she had.

With her spine columned in a perfectly straight line, Azula stared at the table before her, watching the generals discuss war plans for Omashu. This was the umpteenth time she’d sat in on such discussions, and it was the umpteenth time the discussions had gotten next to nowhere beyond whatever Azula herself had been invited to suggest however many discussions ago.

She couldn’t even be bothered to be annoyed with the circular nature of this conversation, though. She couldn’t be bothered to be anything with it.

They were seeking to finalize their plans with what they predicted to be the last attack on Omashu before it finally fell, but all the officers wanted to do was argue with each other to try and inscribe their names in the history tomes that would be written about this battle. Azula typically thought they were largely idiots too preoccupied with their own honor to think of their country’s, but today she couldn’t stop thinking about Mai and the plan they had formulated to sneak away to the Fire Temple on the summer solstice.

It was terrifying to keep a secret this size from her father. It was terrifying to acknowledge what Shyu had said to her as so horribly plausible that she had to hide this secret from her father. It was even more terrifying to think of what she would do if what Shyu said rang true.

“Princess Azula, how would you weigh in on the matter of the boy-king?” her father asked.

Azula’s eyes darted sharply to him. He could sense her disconnect. She was sure of it, for he never addressed her like this during these meetings. She knew that he trusted her mind for battle greatly, but he very rarely sought out her opinion in these meetings. Most things discussed in this room were pre-determined, and if they were not, he sought council from his trusted officers before he turned to his inexperienced daughter.

Typically, an invitation to share her thoughts on the matters at hand seemed to Azula to be a trap designed to trick her into admitting that, despite all her studies and prodigy, she was still only a girl while her father was an emperor. Occasionally, Azula had outwitted his expectations of a thirteen-year-old girl, and he had looked at her proudly and called her a clever girl. Today, though, Azula was sure that whatever she said would be met with the curled expression of a man amused by nothing more than a girl playing at war.

She loved her father and believed in him with the reverence only spirits and gods amongst men warranted, but she had seen his cruelty too. She loved him more for it some days, and she almost let herself hate him for it other days. She never could really hate him, though. Not fully.

How could she hate the person who loved her most?

“The boy-king has posed an insurmountable problem for the Great Empire of Fire historically, but he is old now, withered and tired, and he is no longer the same threat he used to be. That leaves his daughter, Queen Chung-ha. Though she may have inherited his prowess for earthbending, she grows old too. 

“They’re afraid to have her abdicate her throne to her firstborn when they know they are so close to falling; they think it makes her look strong to stay. In truth, it is an admission of her weakness. She is as delusional and likely as senile as my once-honorable grandfather was at the end of his reign,” Azula said. She knew she was treading dangerous waters, but she had been asked to speak, and speak she would. “I believe Omashu is primed to fall regardless of their intervention if we only send General Chan and his troops to fight. Perhaps even the most recent graduating class of the Imperial Fire Academy for Boys should be sent to fight under his command.”

“Why is that?” her father asked.

Azula’s throat constricted. For every advance her father made, she would retreat. “General Chan has a reputation for being ruthless and efficient—”

“Do other generals not?”

“They do, but—”

Her father was smiling now as he regarded her. It was not a kind smile and had no joy; it was only the shape of his mouth. “Other generals are not your future father-in-law. I see, did Asahi-kun request you put in a good word for his family?”

Azula’s nails were biting her palms, threatening to puncture the thin skin wrapped around the bones and tendons, begging for permission. “No, Chichi-ue, he didn’t.”

“Oh?”

“It was my idea. I thought that General Chan would be a good choice given his record and reputation, especially considering how thoroughly he’s dealt with the previous uprisings in the Yan and Zhao Provinces,” she said.

“And deploying Asahi-kun?” he prompted. He was eyeing her more intently now.

“Not just him, but Ruon-Jian and the like as well. All of the newest crop of graduates are yet to be deployed, and I believe it to be a waste of their talents and good breeding,” Azula said.

Her father was quiet a long moment with a thin line for a mouth. Finally, he said, “Very well. I will consider it. However, I am curious, Princess Azula, about your opinion on Queen Chung-ha. You believe her a greater threat than her father.” It was not a question; it was an accusation.

Azula drew in breath like salve to a wound, and she prepared to dance around each verbal blow, wishing desperately that she hadn’t been so distracted to start with.

---

The crew of Inari was in low spirits following their loss at Kyoshi-si. It did not matter that half a month had passed since then; men had been killed, and though Iroh had never seen eye to eye with them, he still mourned their loss. The surviving men blamed Zuko for the deaths, but Iroh had been the fool who had not stood firmer against Zuko’s orders, who had known they could not end in anything good but had allowed the boy to continue on anyway. The crew would never see that, though, and so his nephew was suffering for his mistakes.

Iroh closed his eyes as he heated the teapot. The traditional forty-nine-day grieving period that the crew had opted to observe was dragging along slower and slower for every time he saw Zuko, drowning in a cloud of shame and anger. 

The letters he had personally penned to both the soldiers’ families and his brother, informing them of the casualties had more than likely been received by now, though he had not received word back from either Ozai or the families. He had assumed full responsibility for each death, but what good would that do? The people of his country would not see Zuko as anything but an ill-conceived boy, too reckless and too much his mother’s blood. As much as Iroh thought it good that Zuko had so much of Ursa in his heart, he knew that Ozai was not alone in wishing that Zuko had taken more than just the physical form of his father now that fate had disgraced him in the eyes of their county.

It was his fault. He had brought this upon his nephew. He was such a hopeless fool.

“Oigo-kun, you should take a break. You could work yourself to death at this rate,” he said. Zuko was not here, no one else was here, but he wanted to say this right. It was important that he found the words that would tell Zuko it wasn’t a trap of some sort. Zuko was wary of kindness and any encouragement to not work so hard. The thought made Iroh feel ill.

Ozai had been the same way once. So had Lu Ten.

“Oigo-kun, at the foot of the lamppost, it is dark,” he said. The words felt stiff in his mouth. It was the wrong proverb for the wrong boy. He had been unable to find the right one for as long as he had been scouring his mind, making this tea.

There was an angry bubbling and hissing sound. His tea was boiling. “Ah… I suppose even monkeys fall from trees,” he said to himself.

His cheeks were not damp, but his ki was heavy within him.

---

Being captured by earthbenders like a common criminal was not how Aang was hoping he would reunite with Bumi. Maybe a common criminal wouldn't need to be cemented in a block of earth, though. Maybe he should be more concerned.

“This is bad, Aang!” Sokka said.

Katara tried to squirm from inside the block of earth. She wasn’t very successful from what Aang could see. “Being encased in dirt was not how I saw this day going!” she said.

“They barely even let me introduce myself,” Aang said with a pout.

“Okay, manners are the least of our worries,” Sokka said.

Only Momo’s eyes could be seen from inside the earth prison he was locked in, but Aang thought he was blinking in agreement. It was a touch hurtful.

“Silence, all of you!” one of the officers said. “Your Majesty, these juveniles have been arrested for committing property damage and vandalism through a horrible misuse of the mailing system. They also smell awful.”

“Hey!” Sokka said.

“It’s true,” Katara said, shame coloring her voice.

Queen Chung-ha squinted at them. She was a regal woman, dressed in silk dyed gold and green. Her face was lined with wisdom. Or it might have just been age. It was hard to tell if an old person was wise or just old sometimes. “And you’ve brought them before me why?” she asked.

“We apologize, Your Majesty, but they claim to know your father,” another officer said.

“Just me! Sokka and Katara have never met Bumi!” Aang said.

The officer shot him a sharp look, and he shrunk into his earth prison.

“Lots of criminals claim to know lots of people,” Queen Chung-ha said. “You usually don’t bother me with them until it’s time to sentence them.”

“Yes, of course not, but this boy claims to be Lobsang of the Southern Air Temple,” the officer said.

Queen Chung-ha grew very quiet and very still as if she might be made of stone. With her reputation, Aang thought it possible that she was, and the officers had not been talking to the Queen of Omashu at all. Finally, her mouth moved, and she spoke. “That’s… that would be impossible. Abeonim’s friend was murdered during the genocide on the Air Nomads. He looked for Lobsang-ya, but… no. This is unacceptable. I won’t have some imposter lying to get out of punishment.” Her face was twisted in pain.

“No, no! I’m not a liar—I promise! My name is Lobsang or Aang for short! I was raised in the Southern Air Temple by the monastics after my parents died! I can prove it—Bumi and I became friends because he threw a rock at me, and I hit him with my staff! We used to ride the mailing system all the time!” Aang said, desperate to convey that he would never hurt Bumi or his daughter.

“Then why are you so young? Lobsang-ya would be my father’s age now if he was still alive,” Queen Chung-ha said.

“Aang was frozen in an iceberg! He was in some weird state the whole time,” Katara said.

“Yeah, and we broke him out on accident,’” Sokka added.

Aang wondered how many times they would have to tell people this. The thought made his heart hurt. How many people did he have to reassure he was still alive and still himself? How many people had gone a century thinking they’d lost him forever? How many people weren’t alive to be reassured that he was okay and he was sorry he’d left them?

“What?” Queen Chung-ha asked. “How would he have survived that?”

“He’s the avatar, Ma’am,” Sokka said.

Queen Chung-ha’s expression softened only a hair. “That’s a very serious claim,” she said. “I won’t entertain liars.”

“Is that right, Chung-ha-ya?” a crooked voice asked. The years had aged him greatly, and he had stretched to new heights entirely, but there was no mistaking Bumi.

---

“Queen Chung-ha is more than just the boy-king’s heir. A powerful earthbender in her own right and a capable strategist, only a fool would take her lightly,” Azula said. She was stretching the boundaries of what she could and could not voice to her father.

He quirked his eyebrow but said nothing. She hadn’t gone too far, or if she had, she would not be punished for it publicly.

“She is likely far more agile and combat-ready than her father given that the boy-king is a hundred and ten years old now,” Azula continued. “Furthermore, she is far saner than her father if his reputation is anything to go by. He is irrational and foolish, and his decisions are often nonsensical. The people of Omashu were relieved when he abdicated to Queen Chung-ha. Despite the boy-king’s noteworthy past actions, there is little reason to suspect he will still be a threat to us.”

“Is that so, Princess Azula?” her father asked.

His officers were staring at her with burning eyes. Their mouths did not move, but Azula wanted to strike each of them down. She could send perfect bolts of lightning through their hearts. She would do it too if she didn’t know it would drown her father in rage.

“I do believe so, yes, Chichi-ue,” she said. Her skin felt tight as it was wrapped around her bone and muscle. She stomped out the urge to writhe in discomfort. She was not weak. She would not appear so to these men. She was not her pathetic brother, always embarrassing their father with his ineptitude.

Her father straightened his sinewy torso even more, and Azula thought she could almost see the columns of his spine stretch with him. His eyes glowed painfully, as gold as her own. “Do tell me what Bumi has done to give you such an idea,” he ordered.

Azula’s fingers curled impulsively, her nails biting into the flesh of her palms.

Her father’s eyes tracked the movement.

She would have given anything to strike down his officers in that moment as she imagined them with slits for eyes and forked tongues, goading her with their nearly silent hissing. She could feel her ki splitting on reflex. It was light and free unlike the heavy confine of her body. There was an electric hum in her veins as her vision blurred. She could not bend lightning here, but that did not mean her body could not run through the prelude to unleashing Susanoo’s technique.

“He made… several questionable policies before abdicating, and his cloistered rule has been one riddled with contrasting excellent decisions, likely the work of Queen Chung-ha, and inane decrees clearly made by—”

“And how do you know this, Azula?” her father asked. She flinched minutely at the omission of her title. “Have you an inside source in Omashu-si that I do not? Someone loyal to my daughter and not me feeding you intel about who is behind every decree made by the woman?”

Azula would not hang her head in shame. She kept her chin high and her cheeks dry as she said, “No, Chichi-ue, I do not.”

“So you are merely speculating,” he said.

“Yes. A thousand apologies for that,” she said.

She thought she might die.

“Very well. Excuse my daughter’s foolishness about the boy-king. Though, perhaps there is some use to her idea about General Chan leading the charge. General Chan, argue your case either way,” he said.

Azula resigned herself to the echo of her pulse in her ears for the rest of the meeting. It mattered not that, on one level, she was getting what she had wanted. Asahi would likely be deployed under his father as would Ruon-Jian, but Azula couldn’t enjoy it for even a minute.

There was no pleasure to be wrought from their miseries when her own weighed down on her lap like stone slabs. There was only the sense of failure that persisted.

She should have seen no other end to this game.

---

Mai bowed before her grandfather, sure to bend at exactly the right degree. She rose only when it was respectful to do so, and she softened her face into a smile. “Thank you for having me, Ojii-sama,” she said.

“It’s good to see you, Mai,” Meiji said, bowing lightly to her. The corners of his mouth curled up into a smile of his own. “Please, sit.”

She did as he asked.

“Your mother says you’re interested now in becoming a shrine maiden like my Sakura once was,” he said, “but I’d like to hear it from you.”

Mai’s nails bit into her silk-clothed thighs. It looked like she was already going against her mother’s orders. Meiji had always been direct with her, so she shouldn’t be surprised. “It’s like Haha-ue said. I’ve reconsidered your offer. I know I would be starting somewhat late, but you were right, Ojii-sama. I have the blood for shamanism, and I shouldn’t let it go to waste just so I can move up in court,” she said dutifully.

Meiji’s smile waned. “Is this about the betrothal contract?” he asked.

“No,” she said too fast, “I’m fascinated by the shrine maiden duties. I’ve always been devout about the way of the spirits, Ojii-sama.”

“That mother of yours… Mai, becoming a shrine maiden could take up to seven years. That level of commitment requires you to want this. I know that your future is uncertain, and your mother grows anxious at the idea of you going unwed, but His Heavenly Sovereign will see to it that you are compensated for Zuko’s failings. Now, would you like some tea?”

Mai accepted though she knew the tea would be too hot for a nonbender’s tongue, and she wished that she had the same faith in Fire Emperor Ozai to compensate her family as her grandfather did. She did not voice her doubts. She did not blow on her tea or grimace when it scalded her throat on its way down.

She had been raised up right, and she would not forsake that in the face of her most honorable grandfather. Not even when she was failing her mother’s orders.

“Could we play shogi?” she asked once her teacup was drained clean. She wanted to delay her arrival home as much as possible.

Meiji smiled at her. “You’re sure you wouldn’t want to lose at go instead?”

Mai laughed. Her cheeks stung uncomfortably.

---

Bumi looked nothing like Aang had described him to be, but Sokka hadn’t exactly been expecting the eleven-year-old boy that Aang had known almost a century ago. What truly concerned Sokka was that Bumi, who had a reputation for being borderline senile, was looking at them all so sternly.

For once, Sokka was completely silent save for his shallow breaths from within his earth prison.

Katara and Aang had gone quiet too. He wished he could comfort them somehow, let his sister and friend know that they would be all right. He wished he could guarantee that they would be all right, but it seemed that they had a knack for finding trouble wherever they went.

“I heard a whisper,” Bumi said. “It told me the avatar had arrived.”

“Abeonim, you shouldn’t bother yourself with this,” Queen Chung-ha said.

Bumi smiled at her. His eyes did not lighten, though.

Sokka gulped. He could feel himself trembling as much as his earth prison allowed. Katara mouthed something like “it’s okay” at him, and he felt like a failure of a big brother.

“You look familiar,” Bumi said to Aang. He reached out a withered hand to feel the shape of Aang’s nose, the baby fat of his cheeks, the sockets of his eyes. “Yes… my eyes don’t fail me. Who are you?”

Aang’s eyes looked painfully bright. “I’m—”

“He claims to be Lobsang-ya, Abeonim,” Queen Chung-ha said.

Bumi took a sharp step backward. “Does he now?” There was an unmissable pain to his voice.

“It’s true. Bumi, it’s me,” Aang said.

Bumi’s eyes closed. He inhaled. “I looked everywhere for Lobsang-ssi.”

“You must not have checked the icebergs!” Aang said. “That’s where I was! Down in the South Pole! Katara and Sokka, they broke me out! I promise it’s me, Bumi. I didn’t want to leave you alone. I didn’t want to leave anyone alone.”

Sokka’s chest felt tight, and his heartbeat was painfully loud in it. This was a private reunion that he was intruding upon. This was not at all what they’d planned.

“That’s what Lobsang-ssi would have said. Prove to me that it’s you then,” Bumi said. “Guards, free him from the earth prison. If he is Lobsang-ssi, he will show me the airbending hyeong he invented.”

“Hapha, what if—”

Queen Chung-ha raised her hand to silence the guard’s protests.

Just like that, Aang was released. He stretched, rolling his shoulders back and shaking his limbs out as well. Then, he began to bend air into a spinning sphere, and he jumped onto it.

Sokka blinked. He had been expecting something more impressive than this. He’d seen what Aang was capable of on that Zuko guy’s ship and again in Kyoshi-si, and it was certainly more… tactile than such a simple trick.

“It’s called the air scooter!” Aang said. “It was the thirty-sixth airbending form I mastered. After I invented this, I was officially ready to be declared a Master Airbender.”

Bumi’s mouth was agape now. His green eyes were shining, and Sokka thought it might be at least partially from unshed tears.

“Is that…” Queen Chung-ha trailed off.

“It is. It’s Lobsang-ssi. Who would have thought he was the avatar?” Bumi laughed.

Queen Chung-ha gestured rapidly. “Release Avatar Lobsang-nim’s companions at once.”

Freed, Momo lept onto Aang’s head to slap it.

“Don’t be rude, Momo!” Katara said, uncapping her waterskin to spritz the winged lemur for his misbehavior.

Sokka might have to get his eyes checked because he could swear Queen Chung-ha was smiling at them now. He blinked. Her expression was still bright. Maybe she wasn’t so scary after all.

---

They were in the Three Kingdoms of Earth again, staying in an inn in a southwestern village of the Kingdom of Omashu. The town was called something like Namjaui San Village; he wasn’t entirely sure. He had been feeling ill when they’d arrived, and sicker still when they’d checked in.

It was just him and his uncle as the rest of the crew of Inari were grieving still and refused to work as a result. Zuko could not bring himself to grieve. He could not waste time crying for men who had hated him and lost their lives in a noble pursuit. 

They had lost only a handful of men: Abe, Jee, Tanaka, and Fujiwara. It was four more than Zuko wanted to have lost, of course, but they had known that they would be hunting the avatar and that such a mission was a dangerous one.

That was what his father would say.

That was the only truth Zuko knew now. Sometimes, men were lost. Sometimes, sacrifices were made.

He was not the same boy he had been at the start of his exile. He was stronger now. He would stick to his mission, and he would not fail. Not again.

Zuko flexed his hands.

“Oji-sama, may we train?” he asked.

Iroh looked up at him, his eyes wide. “Now? In enemy territory?”

Zuko nodded.

“Oigo-kun, shouldn’t we be careful? They don’t like firebenders here,” Iroh said.

“We can train carefully then,” Zuko said. He couldn’t explain this to his uncle, but he needed to do something useful. He had to know he was getting stronger. He had to know the things he did mattered.

He had to become a son his father could be proud of.

“Without our flames then,” Iroh said. He tapped the table before him. “If that’s what you want, Oigo-kun. Go stretch then.”

“Thank you, Oji-sama,” Zuko said simply.

Iroh stared at him, his eyes growing wider still. He closed his mouth and nodded. Zuko wondered what he had said wrong.

---

Azula stood alone in an empty corridor, waiting for her father to find her. He had promised they would speak about her impropriety during the war council meeting after it had dispersed, and then he had left to take care of his duties for the day. It was nightfall now, and if he did not find her before dinnertime, she thought she might be ill.

Azula hated being told what a disappointment she was over mealtime. Nothing killed her appetite faster.

The dining room had been one of her mother’s favorite places to lecture Azula about her alleged misdeeds. She would wait until they were seated, waiting for Azula’s father to arrive, and then she would list every flaw she could fathom Azula having—and she had imagined a long, long list of them. The woman thought that Azula had done something irreparably wrong in pushing Zuko into the Imperial Koi Pond or tricking him into thinking their uncle Iroh was his real father or singeing the ends of his phoenix-tail or whatever else she had done to poor Zuko, helpless Zuko, idiotic Zuko.

Azula dug two nails into the burn scars that lined her left wrist. They were faint, but she liked to remind herself of them, of what true pain was. She could never forget what it was for a firebender’s flesh to burn.

Slowly, she let the pads of her fingers pool heat, not summoning flame to them, but remembering how it had felt to be made kindling.

It was starting to smell like lit candles.

“A lesson in discipline?” Her father’s voice echoed in the empty corridor. It was like he was everywhere.

“My apologies, Chichi-ue,” she said. She released her grip on her wrist, not daring to check if there were red indents where her nails had been. She straightened her spine further, and she bowed low and true.

He raised his hand dismissively. “You were distracted earlier. Discipline would suit you,” he said.

She stayed silent, waiting for his next remark.

“Perhaps you will tell me what was so pressing that you could not focus on the meeting I so generously allowed you to attend,” he said. It was not a request.

“Of course. I was merely…” Azula trailed off. She could not tell her father the truth, no matter how much she despised lying to the man. “Would she be proud of me?”

Her father blinked insipidly, not understanding.

“Haha-ue,” Azula said. “I was thinking about if she would be proud of me if she were here.”

The lines of her father’s face were suddenly very thin. They had not spoken of her mother in years. “Ursa is gone, and she never could see how brilliant you are while she was here. I am here, my dragon, and I have always seen your strength. The only pride that ought to matter to you is mine.”

“You’re right, Chichi-ue. I’m sorry for bringing that woman up. I will make you proud,” she said, bowing once more.

“Of course you will,” he said dismissively. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He left, and Azula could not shake the feeling that she had angered him greatly. Perhaps even more so than if she had told him the truth of her distraction.

She dug her nails into her wrist once more. She knew that she would have no appetite come dinnertime. There was no salvaging her mood. Not even Mai’s presence would soothe her now.

---

They had gone from prisoners in need of several baths to guests of honor who were squeaky clean. There was even a feast that had been ordered for them. Sokka could get used to traveling with the avatar, being an honorable companion, et cetera et cetera. When they weren’t being terrorized by the Empire of Fire at least.

He was starting to let himself imagine a world after the war where the avatar’s friends were never forced to dodge jets of fire or abandon true friends. It was a world that was gentler, and Sokka wanted to hold it in his hands. He wanted to help Aang bring peace, even if the kid sucked at learning to waterbend so far.

Maybe water just wasn’t Aang’s element. Even the avatar had weaknesses to work on.

They hadn’t discussed it much during their travels with the low mood and miasma that had plagued them, but Omashu-si was a chance for Aang to learn earthbending and get out of his head about waterbending. Bumi was a Master Earthbender. So was Queen Chung-ha. As far as Sokka could tell, there was no one better to teach the avatar to earthbend than the two of them.

The taste of spices and herbs were heavy on Sokka’s tongue as he thought it over. They were fairly far into their banquet, and Aang and Bumi had spent most of it catching up and introducing Bumi and Queen Chung-ha to Sokka and Katara. They hadn’t broached the topic of bending yet.

“You know, Lobsang-ssi, I named Chung-ha-ya after you,” Bumi was saying.

“He did?” Sokka asked through a mouthful of food. Katara elbowed him sharply in the rib, and he choked on his food promptly. He was spared no sympathy as he struggled to breathe properly again.

“Yeah! Lobsang comes from the Rlung Skad Cha words for noble-minded and righteous, and Chung-ha means righteous girl, right?” Aang said.

Bumi nodded. “That’s right! Your Jigueo is still excellent, I see. And here I thought the ice might’ve given you brain freeze!”

They both laughed loudly. Sokka caught Katara smiling softly at the scene, but he only grinned back at her. Bumi and Aang seemed to have been really close as kids, and it was nice that they were reunited now. He could understand her softness right now.

“Yes, Abeonim, you’re very funny,” Queen Chung-ha said dully.

Bumi waved his daughter off, but his smile didn’t so much as quiver.

“Say, Bumi-nim,” Sokka began as Bumi had insisted upon forgoing any of that “Hapha” type of speech, “is there any chance you could teach Aang to earthbend while we’re here? I get that Queen Chung-ha is probably too busy for that, but you’ve got time, right?”

“Technically, my father is behind many of my decrees,” Queen Chung-ha said, “but he does tend to have quite a bit of free time.”

Bumi wiggled his eyebrows. “Teaching Lobsang-ssi would be something to do! Oh, how I know Chung-ha seeks to be rid of me,” he said.

Queen Chung-ha rolled her eyes almost imperceptibly.

Sokka grinned.

“So does that mean you’ll do it?” Katara asked. “We’ve been working on waterbending together, but I’m not very good yet, so Aang hasn’t been able to make any progress with it.”

Aang looked unusually pale. “No, no! It’s not your fault, Katara! You’re a great teacher; I’m just a lousy student.”

“Don’t say that!” Katara said.

Sokka rolled his eyes. The two of them had started doing this bit in Kyoshi-si, and Sokka found it exhausting to hear them praise each other’s bending and act surprised that the other thought they were talented.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both good benders, we get it,” Sokka said.

Bumi laughed, loud and offputting but not insincere-sounding from what Sokka had heard of his laugh. “Kids these days,” he said, “kid from my day! Yes, I’ll teach you to earthbend, Avatar Lobsang-ssi.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…” Aang said.

“Nonsense!”

Sokka clapped Aang on the back with pride.

---

Pai sho was a lackluster game. Azula had first played it at age six, just before her schooling began, against her then-tutor, and she had refused to have the rules explained to her and the tutor had been ordered by her father to treat her like any worthy opponent. She’d won. Of course she’d won. Pai sho was a lackluster game that had taken her all of twelve moves to dissect and another twelve to conquer at age six.

It had been the first time she’d heard the word prodigy. It had been completely unwarranted too. Pai sho was horribly simple at its core when compared to the likes of superior strategy games like shogi and go. Azula could hardly even find the value in pai sho when it came to military conquest.

It had been the first time Iroh had expressed any interest in her. She had scorned him for it greatly. He had no right to claim interest in her for his benefit, so he could have someone to play that frivolous game with.

Lo and Li had expressed interest in Azula from the time she was born. It was no wonder that Azula had picked them, and Zuko had been left to Iroh. It was no wonder that Azula had never looked back from her choice.

Shogi was a spectacular game. It was far more challenging than pai sho ever had been even if Azula was ultimately able to win against most opponents she’d faced down. She had still never beaten her father at the game, and she had a less-than-perfect record against Lo and Li.

She was playing worse than she normally would today too. Li had her on the ropes, and she could barely focus enough on the board to fix it.

“You’re playing horribly,” Lo said from the sidelines.

“It’s very unlike you,” Li said.

“What’s wrong, Yūshi?” they asked together.

Azula felt her teeth gnash together. She hated their concern today. She hated that they saw her when she needed to not be seen. “Nothing. I’m fine,” she said, waving them off.

They exchanged a look as Azula rushed to make a move that left her wide open to the promotion of Li’s flying chariot to a dragon king. Her face twisted in contempt for herself as she realized her mistake. She was a shortsighted fool as her head swam with her father’s disappointment and the uncertain future. Li was less than ten moves from capturing her jeweled general. Azula would be forced to admit defeat, to admit her inadequacy yet again.

She had more shortcomings than even her mother had ever seen and more than she could afford her father ever discovering.

Her nails were biting into the burn scars on her wrist again.

Li moved a piece—Azula’s vision was spotty, and she could not make out the chiji of the tile.

There was no point in playing. She was hopeless, bound to her loss already. As much as it pained her, Azula bowed. “I lost,” she said. She was horribly aware of the connotation of it all.

Lo pried her nails out from her flesh. “It is okay,” she said

“You will be okay,” Li said.

Azula felt snot pooling in her nostrils even though her eyes only stung. She could feel droplets of blood on her nails and the sharp sting of her wrist, not even close to as painful as the burns at been.

“You don’t know that,” Azula said. “I’m a failure just like Zuko.”

Li tucked something wooden into Azula’s palm. “Do not say that. You are no failure. You are brilliant. You are the future king.”

Azula opened her palm to stare down at the shogi tile. 王将, it read. King general, just like Li had said.

“It’s true, my dear girl,” Lo said. “You are so young. There will be time yet for you to be declared a Master Firebender and crowned the Fire Empress.”

They exchanged a glance. “We believe in you more than anything,” they said together.

Azula exhaled. In that moment, she was whole. Every broken piece she had was lacquered gold and set together again by the promise of a future where she did not drown for her birth. The promise of a future where she sat on the Dragon Throne and inherited a world at peace.

She had chosen Lo and Li, and they had chosen her too.

---

There was a stilted air to the Nakatomi household in the days that followed Mai’s failure to secure her place as a shrine maiden trainee. Mai knew that it was her own fault; her mother had given her an order, and she had failed to follow through on it. This was her future at stake. She shouldn’t have let her grandfather sway her perspective on her mother’s worrying even momentarily. 

“I’m sorry, Haha-ue,” she said, clearing the silence they’d grown like mold.

Her mother’s nostrils flared minutely. “You should have thought about that when you spoke with your honorable grandfather.”

Her father did not look up from the paperwork he was poured over. He never did.

You’re right,” Mai said.

“Honestly, sometimes I wonder…”

Mai’s hands were folded. Her fingers pushed as hard into her knuckles as they could. It hurt, but it didn’t hurt nearly enough to dull the blade to her mother’s words. She knew better than to speak again.

“Mai, do you hate me?” her mother asked.

Her father stilled his movements, but he remained silent.

“I could never hate you, Haha-ue,” Mai said. Her nails were pushing into the white flesh of her knuckles now.

Her mother sighed. “Then why do you want to remain unmarryable and future-less?”

“I’m sorry, Haha-ue.”

“I’m sure Mai will be fine,” her father said at last, slow in his speech and blinking with owlish eyes. “It was just one meeting.”

“It was more than just one meeting,” her mother said. “It’s always more than just one meeting, dear.”

All he could do was blink some more.

Mai watched her mother shake her head disdainfully. Sometimes, she wondered how her parents had stayed married all this time. Her mother couldn’t file for divorce, but was her father happy like this? As a secondborn son with only a daughter to his name and a wife he didn’t understand?

“I’m just saying, Mai, you had better fix this. I know what you like to say, but you can’t just marry Princess Azula instead.”

There was a rush of cold.

“I was only joking, Haha-ue,” Mai said.

“How would she marry Princess Azula? Women can’t marry other women, Michi. We’re not the Air Nation,” her father said. He was blinking again. Mai wondered how her mother could stand it.

In the end, she was her mother’s daughter.

---

Aang was really bad at earthbending. Even if he had been the avatar, he thought he would be terrible at it.

“You’re terrible at this,” Bumi said.

“I know!” Aang said, defensive even when he shouldn’t have been.

Bumi’s lips split, and laughter came pouring out of the crack. The lines of his teeth blinked as his lips moved, flashes of a soft yellow coming in better and worse view. “Katara-ya said you sucked at waterbending too,” he said.

Aang felt his face flush. For all the monastics had told him to let go of pride, he couldn’t just yet. He was only twelve. “I don’t suck, Sabeomnim! I’m just… not good yet.” The lie didn’t faze him as much as it ought to. He was becoming accustomed to it, really. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. Aang wasn’t of the belief that he could never lie, but this was a lie that had consumed him like a forest fire. It was dangerously out of control now; he had no means of stopping it.

“Well, let’s get you there quickly. I know they call me the Boy-King of Omashu, but I’m not young anymore, you know,” Bumi said.

“Right…”

Bumi was saying that kind of thing a lot. As if he was going to keel over any minute now. It made Aang’s heart hurt to even consider. He couldn’t lose Bumi like that. Not when his heart was still cut open from everyone else he’d lost.

“Don’t look so sad! You’ll be just fine, Lobsang-ssi,” he said. “Quickly, what is jing?”

“Jing is the options you have in battle for how to direct your energy both internally and externally,” Aang said.

“Good. Now name all eighty-five types of jing!”

“Wh—eighty-five!?”

“That’s not one of the types of jing!”

“Is my father harassing you, Avatar Lobsang-nim?” Queen Chung-ha asked, offering a polite bow.

Aang hadn’t heard her come into the training grounds. He’d thought she was busy with a meeting too. That’s what Bumi had said, at least.

“No, of course not, Your Majesty,” Aang said, bowing lowly.

Queen Chung-ha let a smile cross her face. “Oh, I see. He wasn’t harping on about there being some absurd number of types of jing then?” When Aang smiled sheepishly, she shook her head. She looked kinder now. “How many was it this time? A hundred?”

“Eighty-five,” Aang said.

“Of course,” she said.

Bumi pouted. “There really are more than three types of jing, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Queen Chung-ha said. “I just finished my meetings for the day. How goes the earthbending?”

“Terrible,” Aang mumbled.

Bumi checked him. “Hey, what happened to just not being good yet?”

Aang said nothing.

“Come on, Lobsang-ssi. Maybe Chung-ha-ya can help us out.”

“Yeah… maybe.”

---

It was just like Azula to do this, really. He shouldn’t be surprised. As much as he’d liked her when they were kids and as pretty as she was now they were older, she was a severe girl in the end. Deeply intense and deeply cruel at heart. It was what made her such a viable heir apparent for Fire Emperor Ozai. Normally, Asahi respected it.

But normally, it didn’t get him deployed to Omashu-si under the command of his father, Chan Masaru.

He grimaced over the scroll declaring it so. It was real. She had carried through on her threat. His entire graduating class was being deployed. Not all to Omashu-si, but they were finally being utilized.

It was terrifying, really. For all his boisterous talk, Asahi had never so much as fought an official Agni Kai. He’d gotten into a lot of fights in the academy, but none of them had ever had the same stakes as a true military mission did.

Especially not one under the watchful eye of his father.

Asahi thought he might be sick at this rate. He closed the scroll, and hunched over.

He needed to do something. He could feel his blood in his veins and his inner flame shrinking. He was a man in name only.

“I need to do something,” he said to himself. He could cook an offering for his mother’s shrine or drill the advanced firebending kata he had yet to master or run away and never look back.

Treason was a high price to pay for his life, but his life was a high price to pay for his honor.

His eyes fluttered shut. Splotches of light colored the black of his eyelids. This was a horrible day, but he couldn’t think like a coward. This war was good. This war was right. He would serve his country, and he would return home to marry Azula.

His father would not see him dead. Fire Emperor Ozai would not see another of Azula’s betrothal contracts end in bloodshed.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. The ground felt more solid beneath his feet as he said it. “You’ll be okay,” he repeated, and his inner flame felt brighter. “You’ll be okay.”

Asahi could believe it now. Azula had not sentenced him to his death.

---

The princess was only thirteen, but she was imposing as she loomed over Michi, Ukano, and Mai’s prostrated forms. If Michi was honest, she hated the girl. She seemed to take pleasure in humiliating Michi and her husband for her own amusement, and she enabled Mai to behave in uncouth ways for which Michi couldn’t even discipline her.

“To what do we owe the honor, Princess Azula?” Michi asked, not willing to wait on Ukano’s ever-failing eloquence even if it was improper.

That was the one thing that she would give the princess; for all the trouble she caused Michi, she always recognized Ukano’s incompetence and allowed for Michi to assert authority over her husband in their conversations.

“I’ve come to announce that Chichi-ue has made up his mind at long last. He knows what he will be giving you since my dear brother was… unable to fulfill his betrothal contract with Mai,” the princess said.

“That’s wonderful news!” Ukano said.

Princess Azula rolled her eyes.

Privately, Michi agreed.

“Yes, yes, well, aren’t you curious what it is?” the princess asked.

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” Michi said, “whenever Fire Emperor Ozai is ready to deliver that news to us, we will accept it graciously.”

Mai was being even more silent and still than normal. It was good. She ought to show her princess some respectful distance. Their relationship was closer than Michi could make herself comfortable with. When they were young girls and not young ladies, it had been understandable that they’d been so close, but over the last two years, they’d grown closer and closer.

It made Michi’s skin crawl. She couldn’t help but look at her daughter differently ever since Mai had “joked” that she could marry Princess Azula instead of the once-prince.

At least Michi could count on the fact that whatever silly fantasies Mai had for now would come to pass because Princess Azula, for all Michi might dislike her quietly, was a proper young lady. She would never dare to act on such a thought—Michi doubted she even harbored them with the way she was cut like lightning.

“Chichi-ue will not deliver that to you himself, of course. He’s a busy man. But if you must know, he’s going to make you governor of Omashu, Ukano,” the princess said. Her voice was dulled, but her eyes were dangerously sharp.

“How can I have governorship of Omashu? It’s still under the Three Kingdoms of Earth’s control,” Ukano said slowly.

“The Great Empire of Fire’s army is about to conquer it, Chichi-ue,” Mai said quietly.

Michi felt her nostrils flare. Had Mai deduced that because she wasn’t a fool like her father, or had the princess told her so in private?

“Mai is right. The fools at Omashu-si are scrambling now. Our forces are on their way,” Princess Azula said. A smile crossed her face now. She seemed pleased with something—herself or the fall of Omashu, it was hard to tell. Michi had never learned to read the princess. “They’re set to attack on the seventeenth of the Early-rice-planting Month. What a lovely birthday present for your daughter. Don’t look at me like that, Mai. I’ll be missing the affair, unfortunately, to attend your genpuku.”

Michi’s nails pressed into the floorboards. The princess was missing the fall of Omashu to attend Mai’s genpuku. She knew her daughter would take such a gesture the wrong way, but there was nothing she could do to change Princess Azula’s mind; she was sure of that. If Michi knew anything about her, it was that once the princess had set her mind on something, she was relentless in its pursuit.

“I’ll be off then,” Princess Azula said.

“That’s it?” Mai asked.

Michi couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t remember a time Princess Azula had come by without privately talking to Mai.

“That’s it,” the princess confirmed.

And then she was gone, and the only trace of her was the smell of ash and wisteria.

Notes:

additional cw: emotional abuse, homophobia

cultural and translation notes:
- "ya" is a respectful but affectionate honorific that denotes an older person addressing a younger person
- "ssi" is an honorific that implies both parties are on equal grounds
- "susanoo" is the god of storms. yes, he's also used in naruto
- "go" is a chinese strategy game where you capture territory; this game was imported to japan
- "abeonim" is the most(?) respectful way to address your father
- "hapha" is the monarch's father who has abdicated
- "rlung skad cha" is the southern air nomad language if that wasn't clear enough from the text

Chapter 6: New Azula (Book One: Air)

Notes:

happy maizula monday; we're back! sorry for the lull in activity. i'm hoping to be more active over the next two months. also, hope you like the title change and that you're having/you had a good chanukah or christmas or kwanza if you celebrate.

anyway, here's wonderwall.

It was the first time he’d caught a glimpse of one of Queen Chung-ha’s sons as the princes had both been too busy to join them for the banquet, and Sokka had to admit it: the crown prince was even more handsome than his portrait had made him out to be. He was middle-aged, but there was a sharpness to his being that made Sokka’s face hot as he stared at the elegant-looking man.

“May I help you?” Prince Dae-hyun asked.

Sokka tugged at the fabric of his clothing around his wrists. “Uh, no, no, I’m just…”

“Lost?” He raised an eyebrow, and Sokka looked down in embarrassment. “You must be one of Eomeonim’s guests. I heard there were three of you.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. I’m Sokka,” he said, bowing awkwardly as he supposed he should have done from the start.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sokka. I am Prince Dae-hyun.” To his surprise, the crown prince bowed to him. Not as low as Sokka had bowed but bowed nonetheless.

“I know. I mean, we saw your portrait, and Queen Chung-ha told us who you were,” he said.

Prince Dae-hyun smiled. 

Sokka gulped. “Your wife is really pretty,” he said in a rush.

“Yes, I suppose she is, isn’t she?” Prince Dae-hyun said. “If only she could stop nagging me so much.”

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that, and so he was quiet. He studied Prince Dae-hyun’s face as the seconds ticked by. His tone had been light, but his expression betrayed him. His eyes had a new edge to them, and his mouth was twisted tightly. “I’m sorry she’s nagging you?” Sokka offered in the end.

“Aren’t we all?” Prince Dae-hyun said with a laugh.

Sokka found himself out on a limb. “Is it about succeeding your mom?”

All the light shut out of the older man’s face at that. “Why would you assume that?”

“I just mean… she’s supposed to have abdicated by now, right? That’s what my sister said, at least,” Sokka said.

“Soon, yes,” Prince Dae-hyun said, “but she’s a very beloved queen. It wouldn’t be an easy transition. Of course, she’s taking her time with it.”

“Right…” Sokka gave a short nod. “Sorry for asking, Your, uh, Highness.”

“All is forgiven,” Prince Dae-hyun said. He sounded stiff. Sokka took it as a sign of propriety and felt a twinge of resentment at it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I’m needed elsewhere, and I’ve wasted enough time as is.” With that, the crown prince was gone.

Sokka was left to stand in the corridor, wondering what had gotten so far up Prince Dae-hyun’s ass. He didn’t know if he believed it was Princess Ji-Woo’s nagging or the snotty nature of monarchy that had thankfully skipped his mother and grandfather’s generations, but there was something eating at the crown prince. The way Sokka saw it, it was up to him to figure out exactly what that was.

---

The map was sprawled out before them both. Zuko felt confident in his theory, but his uncle was only staring at him with the steam of his tea rising in silence.

At last, Iroh spoke. “You believe the avatar is in Omashu-si, a city under Three Kingdoms of Earth control with some of the most powerful earthbenders in the world inhabiting it, and you want to attack him?” he asked.

“Yes,” Zuko said without hesitation. “I know it sounds crazy, Oji-sama, but he has to be there! It being enemy territory and having powerful earthbenders only strengthens my theory! Where better for the avatar to go to learn to earthbend?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Oigo-kun. Rather… do you know how dangerous it would be for even me to go up against King Bumi and his daughter?” Iroh asked, his voice grave.

Zuko knew, but he didn’t care. “That’s exactly why we have to intervene before the avatar can get any stronger!”

Iroh shook his head. “The last time I let you go in palms blazing, men were killed.”

“I know, but this will be different,” Zuko said. He could feel it in his bones, and he did not know why his uncle was so resistant to the only path they had to the avatar.

“So young, so reckless. I do not want to paint your hands red with blood, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said.

Zuko slammed his palm down on the map. “So help me! If we don’t capture the avatar, he could kill thousands of innocents! He’s power-crazy, Oji-sama! He has to be stopped! This isn’t just about restoring my honor!” He watched as his uncle sucked in a breath. His heart was pounding in his ears. How could Iroh not see how important this was?

“… All right, Oigo-kun. We will make our way to Omashu-si. But we will not go in recklessly this time. It will be only us two, and so we must use stealth to our advantage if we are to bring the avatar to your father,” Iroh said. “But if I get even a whiff of trouble, we’re out of there! Do you understand?”

Zuko’s lips split into a smile. He launched himself at Iroh to hug him. It was improper and something he’d picked up from Saionji, but he didn’t care to be proper right now. He was too happy about the looming success. They would capture the avatar, and they would end this insipid war. His father would be proud of him. He would be a prince again. He would be himself again.

“Thank you,” he said.

Iroh wrapped his arms around Zuko’s back. “Don’t make me regret this.” It was more playful than Zuko thought it would have been before the hug.

“I won’t. I swear it.”

“I know,” Iroh said, letting Zuko slip out of the embrace. “You will grow to be a good man, Oigo-kun.”

Zuko cleared his throat. He had let his emotions get the best of him, and he could not linger on the kindness of his uncle any longer. It was an imagined world, a world he would never live in even if he frequented it. He had to grow up, and he had to learn to sustain himself in the real world. “Of course. My father raised me well.”

The softness of Iroh’s worn face did not vanish, but it did begin to ebb away.

Zuko knew that he had said the right thing. He owed the man he would become to his father’s parenting. He knew that. Still, something akin to remorse etched itself across his face.

---

It was while Aang was occupied training with Bumi and Sokka was harassing the servants about finding a master swordsman that Katara’s request to speak with Queen Chung-ha in relative privacy was able to be fulfilled. Katara found the decadence of the Royal Throne Room dazzling. It was gold and green all over—she could hardly believe the taste for color she was gaining from being away from home where everything had been shades of white and brown.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing lowly. She’d been practicing her bowing with Aang’s guidance, and she’d told Sokka he ought to do the same. They had to adjust to learning the right degrees at which to bend in greeting for the right people.

“Good evening, Katara-ya,” Queen Chung-ha said, bowing her head slightly back. “What was it you wished to speak with me about? We only have so much time to converse, unfortunately, but if it’s about waterbending, there is some literature about that available to you in the library.”

“Really?” Katara asked. “Um, that’s great! It’s just… I can’t read.”

“My apologies. You’re new to learning Jigueo, aren’t you?” Queen Chung-ha asked.

Katara felt her face burn as she nodded. “And it’s not like the Southern Water People have a writing system either… we pass our culture down by mouth.”

“Yes, I do seem to recall that from what little contact I’ve had with your people. Well, perhaps I can find someone who will read the scrolls and books to you,” Queen Chung-ha said.

“Oh! Thank you so much, Your Majesty!” Katara bounced on her heels.

A smile graced Queen Chung-ha’s face. “Any time, Katara-ya. I regret, though, that our time is up. I have to see a prisoner now.”

Katara nodded, and she scurried out of the room as a prisoner with earth-made cuffs was hauled before Queen Chung-ha. The sight soured her mood as she took in the fear lining the young woman’s face. She knew that Queen Chung-ha was a good leader and a kind one too. That only made it stranger that she could inspire such fear in someone.

She supposed that was the price you paid as a criminal.

---

It had been overcast all week. This was a rainy month traditionally, though it had yet to spill forth into the world. Mai thought it was fitting, the gloom of the world around her. She hadn’t seen Azula outside of their shared lessons or route home in four days. It was a record for them, and it burned something deep within Mai. Despite their distance, she still found herself plagued by the smell of ash and wisteria, both hallmarks of the princess. It was like being haunted, but her ghost was all flesh and blood, solid as could be. 

Still, she was untouchable as any spirit.

It was worse than any of Azula’s casual cruelty had ever been. Mai could take the pranks and the jeers and the shots of flames and lightning taken at her; Azula could leave Mai black and blue for all Mai cared. Any state was better than that of the grayscale Mai found seeping in every time she was left to her own devices. What she couldn’t take was the emptiness, the return of monotony, the loss of Azula.

Mai hated the princess for it. It was an awful feeling, monstrously tucked beneath her ribs, stabbing at her heart.

“Are you going to keep avoiding me forever?” she accused, her voice flat and her eyes sharp.

Lessons were over for the day, and Azula hadn’t even looked Mai’s way once. It wasn’t that unusual for a girl so focused on chasing after perfection, but Mai knew it was deliberate this time around.

“Who says I’m avoiding you?” Azula asked.

“Ever since you came to my house to tell my parents about Omashu, you haven’t spoken a word to me. You won’t even look at me, Princess Azula,” Mai said.

“I’ve been busy with my studies and training. I’ll see you at your genpuku, Nakatomi-san,” Azula said.

An eye for an eye. It made Mai want to grab Azula and shake her until she stopped or shattered or did anything but what she was doing. She restrained herself. “What about your birthday?” It was a shade of desperation, but she couldn’t hide it under her tongue.

Azula’s mouth split open. “I’ll see you then too.”

“And after?” Mai could feel her eyes burning.

Something in Azula’s eyes softened. “I’ll see you after the solstice, Mai.”

“What about when I move to Omashu? Will you write me at least?” She was asking for too much. She knew that. She couldn’t help but want it, though.

It was awful to watch how Azula closed herself off again. “We’re growing up. You know that.”

That was it then. Mai would move, and she would lose Azula. Mai would move, and nothing would ever be the same again. Her world would be dyed so deeply gray that she would never see color again.

Her cheeks felt damp. She hated this.

Azula took a step back. “It must be starting to rain,” she said. “I should get to my palanquin before it ruins my hair.”

Mai stared up at the gray of the sky. There were dark clouds littering it, but there wasn’t a single speck of rain to be seen. Just the wetness of her cheeks and the burning of her eyes. “It must be,” she said anyway.

They were going the same way. They always did.

Mai walked in silence next to Azula’s palanquin. She walked in silence all the way to her doorstep with nothing but the tears drying on her face and the knowledge that the sun was setting soon. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said finally.

Azula nodded, looking distant and dream-like.

There were only so many tomorrows left that they could share. And then their time would be up. And then they would have to say farewell. Mai had never gotten to say farewell to Zuko or to Ty Lee, and she had hated them both for it. She did not want to say farewell to Azula. She did not want to say anything to Azula. She did not want to leave Heian-kyō, and she did not want to stay there to rot either. Mai had no idea what she could possibly want anymore. She never had.

She hated the princess as she watched the palanquin disappear into the distance.

She hated herself.

---

Sokka had no idea why Bumi was upside down, but he wasn’t going to comment on it. Not much at least. After all, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“Hey, uh… Bumi-nim, sir, uh… my guy.” Bumi had rejected the idea of being called anything other than his name by Sokka at the banquet, and he had only heard Bumi called by one other title so far. That didn’t make Sokka feel any less awkward addressing a former king so casually. “I don’t suppose there’s anyone here who can help me out with my swordsmanship, is there?”

“As a matter of fact,” Bumi said, cracking open the hunk of earth gluing him to the ceiling to flip down to his feet, “there might be!”

Sokka tried not to feel so impressed by the show of athleticism just now. “Really? Who?”

“I can’t make any promises for him, but Jae-sung is a swordmaster. He might be willing to teach you.”

Sokka deflated. “Not if he’s anything like his older brother,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about that, Sokka-ya! He’s a lot less stuck up than Dae-hyun, that’s for sure,” Bumi said. He was smiling lopsidedly despite Sokka’s rudeness to a member of the Omashu Royal Family, or maybe because of it. He was a weird man, that was certain. “Jae-sung has never been afraid to laugh at himself. Or at me!

“Now, what kind of sword have you been trained with so far, and in what style?”

“I was training with a Kyoshi Warrior, but it was with just a jingum,” Sokka said.

“You’ve been trained by the Neo-Kyoshi Warriors, huh?” Bumi’s expression had split into an impressed one. It was a strange sight from a man with the kind of reputation Bumi had. Sokka could hardly believe a legendary Master Earthbender like Bumi could be impressed with him.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. But it was just one of them—Suki. She’s the best. Really, she’s such a good swordsman—well, swordswoman. It wasn’t that long that we trained together, but she got me strong enough to take on ashmakers in that time. She’s just… she’s amazing,” Sokka said.

Bumi slapped him on the back. “A talent like that is hard to come by. My wife was like that. Su-Ho outclassed everyone she met, especially me… oh, to be young and pining again.”

Sokka spluttered. “I’m not pining! I don’t pine!”

With a shrug, Bumi said, “Maybe not yet, but the right person can bring you to your knees, you know. I never thought I was the romance type until Su-Ho made me moon-crazy.”

“Anyway!” Sokka’s whole face was aflame. “I’m gonna go look for Prince Jae-sung!”

“You have fun with that, Sokka-ya! And don’t forget to enjoy your youth! Not everyone is as lucky as Lobsang-ssi, having it preserved like that!”

Sokka walked as fast as his legs would carry him away from Bumi and toward wherever Prince Jae-sung was hiding out. Sokka didn’t have time for youth, had never had time for it. And he might have a crush on Suki, but he was not pining. Romance was a luxury he couldn’t afford even with the support of the Omashu Royal Family. Not until the war was over.

If his heart was pounding, well that was because of how fast he was walking.

---

The Royal Library was beautiful, and, more importantly, it was massive. Even if Katara had been able to read, she would never be able to read the entirety of this collection. She was sure that Anh would have loved a place like this. The thought broke her heart a bit, but it was getting easier to swallow her grief, to use it as an incentive to be stronger. The next time it came down to it, Katara would be able to protect her friends. 

Still, she was nervous about wasting Aang’s time.

“Are you sure you have time to help me out?” she asked for the third time that day.

Momo jumped up on her head as if to stomp on her. It hurt more than she would’ve expected.

Aang’s lips split into an electric grin. “Totally! Bumi-ssi and I are taking the day off of training. He thinks it’ll help if I get out of my head before we try again.”

She nodded at that, but she couldn’t shake the incessant guilt.

“Anyway, helping you is important. Your bending could save the world one day, you know. I have the utmost faith in you,” Aang said.

Katara felt warmth spread through her face.

Aang’s face was tinted pink. The sight made Katara’s face even warmer. “Um—Sokka’s swordsmanship too! I mean, it’ll be a team effort to defeat the Fire Emperor! There’s no way I could do it without you! Or Sokka!”

“Right,” she said, trying to bury the feeling of discomfort in her chest. “It’s important that we all get stronger.”

Quietly, they walked deeper into the library.

Katara plucked the first tome she could, hoping to break the silence. 

Momo slapped his little hand against his head.

“Uh, this isn’t the waterbending section, Katara,” Aang said. “Sorry, I just mean… this is all stuff on Omashu-style earthbending. The Water People-style waterbending section is over there.”

“Oh. My bad.” 

“No worries!”

Despite his reassurance, she felt like an idiot as she followed him over to where he had gestured.

Momo’s judgments did not help the situation.

“Okay, this is a beginner’s scroll,” Aang said, “but I feel like maybe an intermediate one might be better for you considering how much progress you’ve been making.”

Katara beamed. “You really think so?”

“I mean, if you feel comfortable, it could be good to try,” Aang said. “You’ve only learned five forms, but you’re amazing.” His face was so earnest that Katara could feel her doubts beginning to melt away.

“You’re amazing too. I know you haven’t been able to make any progress with waterbending or earthbending yet, but your airbending is so… I’ve never seen anything like it.” Katara felt like she’d said too much. She couldn’t take it back, though.

Aang’s face darkened at her words. Self-doubt, a feeling she could understand. “I’m useless without the other elements,” he said.

“Don’t say that! You’re the strongest bender I’ve ever met,” she said.

“You haven’t met many benders, though.” It wasn’t untrue, but it didn’t mean that Aang wasn’t seriously impressive.

“Bumi-nim wanted you to get out of your head. Being hard on yourself is only gonna box you in even more.”

Aang looked at her with cloudy eyes. Katara wanted nothing more than to see the sun reflected in them once more.

“Talk to me about airbending,” she said. “How does it feel?”

He blinked. “It’s freedom,” he said.

“How so?”

“Air moves through all of us. We need it to survive. It’s vital to life. But when you get to bend it… well it depends on what you’re doing, I guess, but it’s the element of freedom. You have to think about a time when you were truly free to airbend, and it feels like you can do anything when you’re wielding air,” he said.

Katara knew her mouth was hung open. She knew that she was gaping at him. But she couldn’t help it. It sounded beautiful. “I wish I could feel that. Free, you know. It’s so… I hope one day we all feel free,” she said.

“Me too…” Aang gulped. “Hey, what does waterbending feel like?”

“It’s like a prayer. I mean… no, that’s stupid—”

He shook his head, his hand pressed to her wrist. “It’s not stupid. Bending is religious. I get that.”

“Yeah?”

Aang nodded.

“Well, it’s like I say a prayer, and I get to see it answered. I mean… I don’t know. I just know that when I’m waterbending, I feel powerful. I feel like I can protect my people and our community. It makes me feel like I can help people, and all I have to do is let the Tui and La flow through me,” she said. “It’s… a constant adaptation when you’re waterbending. You have to go with the flow, whatever that is, and turn your opponent’s attacks back on them. If air is the element of freedom, then water is the element of change,” she said.

It was Aang’s turn to look at Katara with reverence. “Change, huh? I think I know a thing or two about that.”

Katara laughed, but it hurt her heart. “You could say that.”

“I don’t really, though. I mean, the world has changed so much, but I’m still me.”

“I like you, Aang.” Her face burned at the implication. “I mean—”

“N—no, you’re fine. I know what you mean. I just… I wish I could understand it. Waterbending, change, all of it,” Aang said.

“You will one day.”

He sucked in a breath. “What if I don’t?”

“You’re the avatar. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

He looked away from her. “Katara…”

“You guys came here too?” Sokka’s voice called out from the entrance.

Katara jumped. Aang did too.

“Yeah, we were just looking at the waterbending stuff,” Aang said quickly. “Nothing else happening here!”

Sokka tilted his head. “Okay, that was suspicious. You didn’t do anything funny to my sister, did you?”

“No!” Aang said as Katara shouted her brother’s name.

“Don’t be embarrassing, loser! Aang would never do anything weird to me—you’re the big weirdo!” she said.

“Hey, that wounds me!” Sokka said.

It was then that Katara noticed the regal man next to Sokka. It was Prince Jae-sung, of all people, who Katara recognized from the portrait they’d seen despite not having met him yet.

She bowed quickly and lowly to him. “It’s lovely to meet you, Your Highness. I am Katara of the Southern Water People,” she said as she did. “Please excuse my irritating brother.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Katara-ya, and it’s an honor to meet you as well, Avatar Lobsang-nim,” Prince Jae-sung said.

“The honor is mine, Prince Jae-sung,” Aang said, sounding distant.

“As for Sokka-ya, well… he’s not that irritating,” Prince Jae-sung said.

“Hey! Sabeomnim, you’re supposed to be nice to me!” Sokka said.

Prince Jae-sung smiled. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Sokka-ya. I’m supposed to teach you. Nowhere does being your instructor involve kindness.”

Katara and Aang both laughed. “You’re training him?” Katara asked.

“He strong-armed me into it. Came bursting in demanding I train him. He’s spirited, that's for sure,” Prince Jae-sung said.

“That’s so not true! I begged you on my knees; it was really polite!” Sokka said.

“Wow, Sokka, you begged on your knees? That’s kind of embarrassing,” Katara said. “Are you sure we’re related?”

“I hate you!”

“Cold words for a stranger.”

“I’m your big brother! Where’s my respect?”

“Oh, shoot!” Aang interjected as Katara opened her mouth with a retort. “I totally forgot, but I’m supposed to go help Bumi feed Fluffy. Gotta go! Bye!” He ran off before anyone could so much as blink.

“Well, that was weird,” Sokka said.

“Is he always like that?” Prince Jae-sung asked.

Katara frowned. “Not usually.” She wasn’t sure how true that was, though. Aang did seem to get funny like this at times. It was usually when they were discussing his responsibilities as the avatar. It was a lot of pressure to put on a kid. Still…

She tried to swallow the feeling whole.

---

Ty Woo wasn’t bad company, but she wasn’t Azula either. Mai knew it was unfair to compare the two, knew that Ty Woo would be frankly offended if she found out. She didn’t care, though. Ty Lat and Ty Lao’s joint presence was annoying enough that it didn’t matter.

Even if the younger set of Saionji twins hadn’t annoyed Mai, she wouldn’t have given a damn about Ty Woo’s feelings. Not when her own life was coming undone and Azula was drifting farther away with every day that passed.

It was hard to spend her time like this. It was hard to know that a farewell was imminent. It was hard to know she was on the cusp of womanhood, and yet still there was nothing that could be done to change anything.

Mai was powerless.

The only card she had left to play didn’t exist unless she could persuade her grandfather that she wanted to be a shrine maiden.

“You look even more depressed than usual,” Ty Woo said. “I know you’re fighting with Princess Azula or whatever, but is hanging out with me really that bad?” She was teasing, but Mai couldn’t bring herself to so much as roll her eyes in response.

“No,” she said.

“Sounds like she hates you, Onee-chan,” Ty Lao chirped.

“Yeah, totally,” Ty Lat said.

“Both your Ty Lee impressions suck,” Mai said bitterly.

Ty Lao recoiled. “What got up your ass?” she asked haughtily.

Mai said nothing. She set herself to cleaning her shuriken.

Ty Lat made a face.

With a sigh, Ty Woo shooed her younger sisters away. They huffed as they left the dining area. “You miss Ty Lee too, huh?”

Mai shrugged.

“Is that what you’re fighting with Her Imperial Highness about?” Ty Woo asked.

Mai shrugged once more.

Ty Woo jabbed her swiftly, blocking the ki path in her right arm and rendering it useless for the moment. Mai’s shuriken clattered to the ground. “Seriously, Mai. What’s up?” Ty Woo asked.

“What was that for? You didn’t need to ki-block me,” Mai said. It was an annoying abuse of the Saionji family’s secret technique.

Ty Woo glared at her.

“Fine. It’s a family thing. I can’t tell you what until it’s officially decreed, but Fire Emperor Ozai figured out what to give us in exchange for Zuko being a total disappointment,” Mai said.

Ty Woo rolled her eyes. “That’s all? Why is Princess Azula mad at you then?”

“She’s not mad at me,” Mai said. “It’s just… complicated, Ty Woo.”

“Right,” Ty Woo said, “complicated. That’s one way of looking at it.”

Mai could feel her heart in her throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ty Woo glanced around before leaning close to Mai. “You two should be careful. She’s betrothed to Asahi-kun, and it’s a capital offense anyway.”

“How dare you?” Mai said lowly. “Don’t insinuate anything like that again. Azula isn’t—I wouldn’t—fuck you.”

Ty Woo backed off immediately, but she looked downright pissed. “I’m just looking out for you, Mai. For Ty Lee.”

Mai didn’t want to hear another word of it. She wasn’t an idiot. She would never do anything illegal like that, and she didn’t have those kinds of urges anyway.

She just… it was complicated. They were best friends. That was all they would ever be. Mai wasn’t a degenerate, and neither was Azula.

Ty Woo was reading way too much into things.

---

The weeks crawled by, and before Sokka knew it, they’d been in Omashu-si for almost a month. He was getting stronger, he could tell. He had always been stocky, but now he was building muscles in his arms and torso to better wield a sword with, and he was getting better at the footwork required in Omashu-style swordsmanship. He was becoming as immovable and study as any block of earth.

He was also exhausted. No longer did he go to bed so sore he thought he might never move again, but he was still tired. He’d never had so much access to food in his life, but it still wasn’t enough to energize him. 

Prince Jae-sung was a nice guy, but he was a heinously tough instructor.

She was doing so alone for the most part, but the training didn’t seem to be any easier for Katara either if the bags under her eyes were anything to go by. Aang, however, was looking lighter than Sokka had ever seen him these days. Bumi didn’t seem to be working him very hard at all.

However, Aang did get mopey any time Sokka asked about his progress with earthbending which seemed to be absolutely none. Bumi was saying that Aang was probably just a late bloomer with earthbending since it was his opposite element, though.

Katara kept telling them all to have faith, that Aang would get it eventually, it just needed to click for him—to Sokka, it was starting to sound like crap. He couldn’t help but doubt his friend. It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel terrible about it, but the doubt crept in nonetheless.

He’d been avoiding Aang as much as he could as a result. It was better that he kept his biting skepticism to a minimum than to shake Aang’s faith in himself with it.

At night, though, Aang was unavoidable. The three of them always talked before going to bed. It was tradition, and there was no way to shake it.

“I’m totally beat,” Sokka said.

“Me too,” Katara groaned. “Today was rough.”

“Yeah… today wasn’t great,” Aang said, “but tomorrow’s a chance to do better.”

“You are way too optimistic. Can’t you be miserable like the rest of us?” Sokka asked.

Katara smacked him. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Aang just smiled, big and bright.

“Hey, you know, I’ve been meaning to talk about something with you guys. Sabeomnim was kind of weird today,” Sokka said.

“How so?” Aang asked.

Sokka shrugged. “I dunno. I just mean… I made a joke about the abdication thing with Prince Dae-hyun and Queen Chung-ha, and he got really weird. Like he totally dodged the question. Didn’t even laugh at my joke, and it reminded me that Prince Dae-hyun was weird about it when I asked him why he wasn’t king yet too.”

“Maybe you’re just not funny?” Aang said.

Sokka scowled at him for it. “I’m serious! There’s something weird going on!”

“The only thing weird around here is you,” Katara said. “And Bumi-nim.”

“Bumi-ssi’s not weird; he’s just different! Anyway, it’s probably a sore spot for Prince Dae-hyun, Sokka. It’s pretty personal,” Aang said.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “It’s purely political.”

“That’s worse,” Katara said. “But Aang’s right. I haven’t gotten any weird vibes. Queen Chung-ha’s been really hospitable to us in fact, and her sons have been too.”

“I wouldn’t call Prince Dae-hyun hospitable,” Sokka said.

“Okay, maybe he’s been a little curt, but Prince Jae-sung has been nothing but nice!” Katara said.

“That’s not the point!” Sokka said.

“Can the point be that we’re tired? ‘Cause I’m tired,” Aang said.

Sokka groaned. “From what? Goofing off with Bumi-nim all day? Yeah, that must be so exhausting for you.”

It was scary how fast Aang could start to look like a wounded polar bear dog. Sokka felt the guilt seep in as soon as Aang’s mouth curved down.

“Aang, I’m sorry. That was totally uncalled for—”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been completely irresponsible lately. I’m sorry,” Aang said quietly.

“Don’t say that, Aang! Sokka is just being the mayor of jerk town right now,” Katara said. “Nobody is being irresponsible. We’re all just tired. Let’s call it a night”

“Right…” Sokka said.

Aang nodded, but he still looked wounded.

Sokka would have to make this up to him in the morning.

---

Zuko was lucky to be born; Azula was born lucky. He had memorized these words years before. They were set in stone. The presence of both his childhood friends in the Three Kingdoms of Earth only solidified them even further. It was just his luck that they would have been deployed to infiltrate Omashu when he was attempting to do the same.

“You know that boy, don’t you?” Iroh asked once they were safely out of the barbecue joint.

“Two of them. Chan Ieyasu and Tokugawa Fuyuhiko,” Zuko said.

“Ah, General Chan’s son and the Tokugawa heir. Were you friends with them?” Iroh asked.

Zuko tensed. “When we were kids. It’s not like we kept in touch after my exile, though. I don’t even know their personal names. Ieyasu probably hates me now. He’s betrothed to Azula, remember?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. Ieyasu had chosen Azula over him in the end. Just like their father had.

“I see,” Iroh said.

“Why are they here?” Zuko mumbled.

“They seemed to be discussing their orders. I imagine they’re trying to conquer Omashu for my brother,” Iroh said.

Zuko made a face. “I know that, Oji-sama!”

“Forgive an old man’s foolishness.”

“You’re not that old.”

“It’s the pathos of thing, Oigo-kun. A man of forty-three might as well be dead to a boy of fifteen.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’re dying. Yet.”

Iroh laughed heartily. “No, not yet. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

If only Zuko could be rid of Ieyasu that easily. 

It was a horrible thought. Ieyasu had been pompous and headstrong in their childhood, but those had been qualities that Zuko had been charmed by. He had liked how brash his friend was. It had made how surprisingly sensitive Ieyasu could be at the heart of it all the sweeter to see.

Fuyuhiko, on the other hand, Zuko could live without even now that it had been two years since he’d seen either of them.

Zuko sighed. His luck was rotten to its core. He couldn’t even capture the avatar now if the Great Empire of Fire was moving in on Omashu.

At least he had his uncle.

---

It was impossible to avoid Saionji Kagami when she was Mai’s capping parent, but that only made Mai want to avoid her even more. Talking to Ty Lee’s sisters was one thing, but her mother was another entirely.

For one, Kagami had no idea that the girl had run away to do spirits-knew-what in spirits-knew-where. It was a miracle to Mai that the Saionji sisters had been able to hide it for so long, but by some spirit’s grace, they had managed. Ty Lee had begged them all to not tell anyone in her goodbye letters, and they had obeyed. They were even covering for Ty Lee in her absence, pretending to be her when needed.

Mai was begrudged to follow suit. Nothing good would come of informing Ty Lee’s parents that she had run away now.

“I hope that disaster daughter of mine hasn’t caused you too much trouble lately. I know she’s always tried to skate through school with your help, but it won’t hurt her to do her own work for once. Especially since you’re busy with preparations for next week,” Kagami said. She was smiling, but it didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. She looked almost dead inside.

Mai forced a polite smile. It felt grimy on her mouth. “Ty Lee hasn’t been any trouble. Everyone knows my genpuku is almost here, so they’re being very accommodating right now.”

Kagami nodded. “Are you excited to become a woman?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much for agreeing to be my capping parent for this, Oba-san,” Mai said, bowing respectfully.

“Oh, it’s only fair, Mai-san. Your mother has been kind enough to agree to be Ty Lee and Ty Woo’s capping parent, after all,” Kagami said. Her smile was still unwavering. 

The sight made Mai want to shrink in on herself. She almost felt bad lying to this woman whose eyes were so cold every time she mentioned Ty Lee. It was almost like, on some level, in some way, she knew.

“Haha-ue says it’s no trouble. She’s fond of your daughters, after all,” Mai said.

“As I am fond of you, Mai-san,” Kagami said. Her palm pressed into the silk covering Mai’s knee.

Mai found herself thinking that if not for the fabric, she would be subjected to an icy kind of cold. She was sure that she was right. “Thank you, Oba-san.”

---

Aang had known it was only a matter of time before Bumi asked him about Nyima. It still sent him into a dizzying silence when it finally happened.

Training had been a mess. They had stopped goofing off to try and actually train, and the truth was becoming less and less avoidable by the second. Aang would have to come clean. To Bumi, to Queen Chung-ha, to the princes, to Sokka, to Katara.

He couldn’t live the lie he had told any further. There was no way out but to tell the truth and bear the burden of their anger. He deserved it more than anything.

“Nyima… she died,” he said. “We ran away from the Southern Air Temple so she could clear her head about a few things, and we got caught up in a storm. I don’t really know what happened. I just know that I got stuck in an iceberg with Appa, and when we woke up, Nyima wasn’t there.”

“I’m sorry. She always was a wonderful girl,” Bumi said.

“She was my best friend,” Aang said, “and it’s my fault she’s dead. It’s my fault everyone is dead.”

“You aren’t the Empire of Fire, Lobsang-ssi. You didn’t kill anyone,” Bumi said.

“Katara and Sokka keep telling me that, but—”

“But nothing. Your friends wouldn’t lie to you.” It was the most serious Aang had ever seen Bumi. It broke his heart.

With a deep breath, he said, “There’s something I’ve been lying to you about.”

“No, you haven’t,” Bumi said. He was smiling strangely. “A wise fool never lies.”

“I’m not wise!” Aang said.

Bumi shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak once more before shutting it firmly. His hands flexed at his sides. “You need to get Katara-ya and Sokka-ya and leave. They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Aang asked. “We can’t abandon you—I’m not the—”

“You are, Lobsang-ssi. Please. Just leave while you can. I’ve been lying to you about something. The Empire of Fire is here. Omashu will fall.”

---

Aang was running faster than he had known he could. He had to get to Katara and Sokka. He couldn’t let them die here. He couldn’t let anyone die here, but Bumi had been so adamant—Omashu was going to fall. The Empire of Fire had sent entire troops of men, including cavalry. Omashu had nowhere near the power to fend them off this time.

With the Kyoshi Warriors, they had been able to defend Kyoshi Island from Zuko’s crew, but there was no chance of them doing the same this time. They had no choice but to run, no matter how cowardly it felt, no matter how much it reminded him of leaving Anh to die.

“Katara! Sokka!” he called out. “We have to go!”

“Aang! Aang, where are you!?” Katara called back.

“We know about the troops!” Sokka added. “We’ve got Momo!”

Aang’s lungs and limbs were burning. He didn’t care. He had to keep going until he found them, and then they had to get to Appa.

Someone almost tackled him, wrapping themself around him in a warm hug.

“Katara?” he asked.

“Who else?”

Another pair of arms wrapped around him. “And me too.”

“Hi, Sokka,” Aang breathed out. “I don’t want to, but we’ve got to get to Appa.”

“Hurry, all of you,” Queen Chung-ha said. Aang hadn’t realized she was there too. “And don’t look back. I will protect Omashu as much as possible. So will my father and sons.”

Sokka and Katara looked at her for a long moment with pained eyes.

“We’ve got to go,” Aang said, taking them both by the hand, anchoring them to him. “I’m sorry. I know what we promised, but this isn’t like Kyoshi Island. We can’t help. And it’s not like Đất Nam either.”

“I know…” Sokka said. “But I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone—”

“I’ll tell Jae-sung and Abeonim. Just hurry, please. I don’t want your blood on my hands,” Queen Chung-ha said.

Aang couldn’t help but look back as they ran to Appa. Queen Chung-ha had been kind to them, and he did not want her blood on his hands either. But she was strong. She was one of the strongest earthbenders alive. And she was not alone.

He told himself that this was not the same as leaving Anh.

It did not help.

---

From Lu Ten’s to Asahi’s, Azula had attended several genpuku over the years. Mai’s was the worst. It was beautifully decorated, of course, lavish but not gauche, and Mai looked ethereal in her jūnihitoe, all shades of white, green, and red trailing around her like a cloud. 

That only made Azula hate it even more.

She wanted it to be over, and she wanted Mai to be gone already. Dragging it out would only make her imminent absence hurt even more. Azula thought that avoiding her in the weeks leading up to her genpuku and the fall of Omashu would have nursed the ache in her ribs. She had been wrong.

It hurt to look at Mai. It hurt to see the smile, even when Azula knew it to be false, on her lips, her midnight-painted teeth on display. She was a woman now, and she would leave Azula as Ty Lee had. As Zuko had. As her mother had.

Everyone left in the end. Even Lo and Li would leave her eventually.

It would be only Azula under the watchful eye of her father.

The thought left her cold.

“Princess Azula, you look lovely tonight.” It was Michi. The woman certainly knew how to trouble Azula.

“Thank you, Nakatomi,” Azula said.

Michi smiled. She had been trying and failing to get Azula to call her “Oba-san” for several years now. “You look so much like your mother.”

Azula almost snarled. “I know,” she said instead. “I don’t see why everyone feels the need to remind me about it.”

Michi’s smile dropped off her face.

“Hey, can I borrow Princess Azula?” Mai’s voice cut in. Her hand found Azula’s wrist.

“Of course,” Michi said.

“Don’t I get a choice?” Azula asked.

Mai rolled her eyes, tugging Azula away from Michi. “Do you hate me that much? You’d rather speak with my mother?”

“… I don’t,” Azula admitted. “I’ve never hated you.”

“But you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have.”

Mai sighed. She looked very tired. It broke the doll-like effect of her being so dressed up. She was only human in the end. “You won’t even write to me when I’m gone, Azula.”

“… You’re a woman now. If Zuzu hadn’t gotten himself banished, you’d be marrying him within the month,” Azula said.

Mai gulped. Azula watched the movement of her throat. It was almost delicate. “I’m glad I’m not marrying Zuko,” she said.

Azula hadn’t expected that. From Mai’s wide-eyed expression, she hadn’t either.

“Of course. Your loyalty lies with the Dragon Throne,” Azula said finally.

“And its future,” Mai said.

And just like that, she had chosen Azula over Zuko. Sworn her allegiance and all that comes with it. Only Azula’s father had ever done that before. Everyone else had always dodged the question like her aunts, claiming they loved both siblings, or chosen Zuko like her pathetic mother.

“What are we doing about the solstice if I’m moving to Omashu—New Azula, I hear it will be renamed,” Mai said suddenly.

Azula blinked. Her father had never mentioned the idea of naming Omashu for her. “I’m trying to delay the move… I have to go. Excuse me.”

“Wait,” Mai said. “I’m sorry for my mother’s comment earlier.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “It’s not untrue. Happy birthday, Mai. I’ll see you on the solstice.”

“Promise?” Mai asked. There was a twinge of sarcasm to it.

“I promise,” Azula said. She meant it more than she should have.

---

Asahi’s inner flame had never been so bright. 

Omashu-si was a wasteland as far as he could tell, and by painting it red, they were doing its citizens a favor. The defense they’d been met with thus far had been pathetic too. Asahi had expected to fear for his life as they fought through the kingdom.

Instead, he felt braver than he ever had. He was a man now. A soldier at that.

He laughed as Ruon-Jian sent a tunnel of flames at an Omashu banner.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” one of the other boys from their class said. Asahi knew his family name was Hata, but he wasn’t sure what his personal name might be. They had never been close, and Hata was always quiet.

“No, definitely not,” Ruon-Jian said.

“I was scared for no reason,” Asahi said with a laugh.

“Me too,” Hata said.

It was nice to know he hadn’t been alone.

“Focus, soldiers,” his father said. Only he wasn’t Asahi’s father right now; he’d made it very clear before that so long as they were deployed, he was Asahi’s general.

“Yes, General Chan,” they said together.

“Is that who you are? What a pleasure it will be to kill you then, General Chan,” a woman’s voice said.

“Queen Chung-ha,” General Chan said, “the pleasure will be mine. Where are your sons?”

“Forget them. You will deal with me,” she said.

“Forgetting someone, Chung-ha-ya?” a crooked voice asked.

Asahi sucked in a breath. Before them stood not only Queen Chung-ha but her father, the legendary Boy-King of Omashu.

“For your sake, I hope you live up to your reputation,” General Chan said. He cracked his neck.

Asahi had never been so aware of his father’s own reputation.

Ruon-Jian was the first to strike. His jet of flames was premature and unelegant in comparison to the shift of Queen Chung-ha’s body as she rose a wall of earth before her and her father to protect them both.

“Tokugawa,” General Chan growled in warning.

“Oh, please, take all the time you need,” the boy-king said with a laugh.

Ruon-Jian tensed as he stood down. Asahi knew he wasn’t used to being in trouble like this. To reassure his friend, he gave him a short nod.

The older men in their troop moved to the front as Asahi and the younger men took a collective step back. They were in complete unity as they moved through advanced kata, sending walls and tunnels of flames and weaponry toward the two earthbenders.

They were immovable, though, and they defended with such strength that Asahi found himself sweating from the back of the troop.

He was terrified for his father. Especially as he watched Queen Chung-ha find the rhythm of their attack and spearhead her own on their offbeat.

With only the stomp of her foot, the earth swallowed several of the soldiers. With a shift of her arm, it skewered them.

The boy-king laughed.

“Fall back!” General Chan ordered.

“Shit, did you see that?” one of the younger men whispered.

Asahi had seen it. He felt like he might throw up.

The boy-king encased several soldiers in earth up to their necks.

General Chan took the offensive once more. A crescent kick, a tiger strike, a wall of flames. He unsheathed his katana, and it began to sizzle.

The boy-king was an expert, and he kept up with a sort of ease as he defended himself.

Queen Chung-ha was beginning to slip, though. Asahi thought he might be seeing things as her eyes darted over to her father relentlessly, and her form was hurt by it.

One of the soldiers landed a blow on her even.

Asahi’s pulse quickened. The fight could end soon.

There was a flurry of movements from there. Flames and earth alike, yari and katana, Asahi could feel his blood in his head, and he could hardly stomach to continue looking on as the stench of fresh death and feces began to overtake his nostrils. His father could die. His father was facing no doubt the strongest pair of opponents he had ever seen.

And then it was over. There was the sound of a katana piercing flesh, and Asahi blinked his vision blurry.

Red, he could see red. Not just Great Empire of Fire red but blood red.

“Chung-ha-ya!” the boy-king cried out.

The queen was dead. His father had stabbed through her chest, and she had fallen to the floor.

Asahi breathed a sigh of relief. His father was alive and safe. His country had prevailed.

The boy-king was on his knees and screaming. Asahi knew there must be tears in his eyes. It was tragic, he supposed, to lose one’s child, but it was avoidable. If they had only surrendered to the will of the Great Empire of Fire, then Queen Chung-ha wouldn’t have had to die.

“What do we do with him, General Chan?” one of the soldiers asked.

“If his reputation is true, he will make a fine hōkan.”

---

Omashu-si was shrinking by the second. They were getting farther and farther away from the flames, from what would soon be ashes.

Sokka buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe this was his life. He couldn’t believe he was still running away. They were supposed to be better now. They were supposed to be able to protect the people they met.

They weren’t supposed to give up because the ashmakers came barging in again.

“I hate feeling this way,” Aang said.

“Me too,” Sokka said.

“I thought we were getting stronger,” Katara said, “but I still feel completely powerless.”

The three of them were silent for a moment. Even Momo was sullen.

“We need to figure out why Aang is having so much trouble learning earthbending. And waterbending,” Katara said. “As soon as we can figure that out, we can stop having to run away every time.”

Sokka nodded, but Aang looked tense.

“… I’m not the person you need me to be,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sokka asked.

Aang shrunk in on himself. “I—I’m not the avatar.”

“What?” Sokka asked.

“I know it must be difficult to struggle this much, especially since you’re an airbending prodigy, but don’t be ridiculous, Aang,” Katara said. “Sokka, tell him.”

Sokka couldn’t bring himself to defend Aang, though. He’d been having doubts for a while now. He knew that Aang had yet to bend a single element other than air, and airbenders might be rare, but they weren’t impossible even now. Especially since Aang was born in the Southern Air Temple.

He had survived his time in the iceberg, though, and Sokka didn’t know how else someone could have survived that unless they had the spirits on their side. The avatar was a spirit, technically. It made sense that Aang was the avatar.

It had to.

“No, Katara, I’m really not the avatar,” Aang said. There were tears clouding his eyes now. “I lied. I never meant to trick either of you! I just… I had to get Zuko away from Amarok Akuq. To protect your people.”

“But… you have to be the avatar,” Katara said, her voice breaking.

“You told us you were,” Sokka said. “You let us believe you for months.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

Sokka’s nails bit into his palms. “Who the fuck is the avatar then?”

Aang shrunk, but he had the decency to look ashamed. “It used to be Nyima. But then she died to save me…”

“So what are we supposed to do!?” Sokka demanded. “We’ve been relying on you this whole time to end the war!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Katara asked.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to let you down…” Aang said.

Katara shook her head. “Well, you did!”

“I know! I’m so sorry. I just—I mean, at least the Empire of Fire thinks I’m the avatar. That could buy us time to find the real one. Then we can protect them, and I can train them in airbending,” Aang said. He sounded desperate.

Sokka couldn’t stand to look at him right now.

“No. No! You are not allowed to put a positive spin on lying to us all this time!” Katara said. “We trusted you! You gave us hope! None of that means anything anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aang said.

“Saying sorry doesn’t make it okay!” Sokka said.

“What can?” Aang asked. “Please, just tell me, and I’ll do it.”

“Give us the real avatar,” Katara said coldly.

Aang nodded desperately. “I can do that. I know where we can go to find out. We just have to see the Fire Sages.”

“What?” Sokka asked. “The Fire Sages? Like from the Empire of Fire?”

“Yes, they know who the current avatar is,” Aang said.

Sokka blinked at him. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this kid. “I’m sorry. The Fire Sages? Like from the Empire of Fire? That country that wants us dead?” he repeated.

“Sacred religious figures know who the avatar is when the avatar is in their nation,” Aang said.

“What makes you so sure the avatar is a firebender?” Katara asked. “Why wouldn’t we go to a shaman from the Three Kingdoms of Earth or the Warring Earth States?”

“They’d be too hard to find, and… think about it. Nyima—she died almost a century ago. The waterbender avatar after her must have died early too or else they’d have done something. The same with an earthbender avatar. It has to be a firebender right now, and either they don’t know, or… they think the war is right,” Aang said. “We can change their mind! We just need to go to the Fire Sages—they should be in the Fire Temple in Tokushima, and we just have to convince them to tell us who the avatar is even though it’s technically against their vows—”

“That sounds like a horrible plan for a liar and a complete—jerk,” Sokka said. He wanted to say worse, so much worse, but Aang was still a child.

“At least it’s a plan!” Aang said. “I’m sorry! I can never untell the lie and restore your trust in me, but I don’t care if I have to lie and cheat to fix it; I’m going to make this right!”

“That’s an unfortunate choice of words,” Katara said.

“And even if you find the avatar, I don’t know if that’ll make it right,” Sokka said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll never stop being sorry. But I’m going to try, and I’m never going to stop trying either,” Aang said. He was unwavering. As immovable as an earthbender.

It almost made Sokka believe in him again. But almost wasn’t enough. He didn’t think that anything would ever be enough.

Notes:

additional cws: mentioned violent homophobia

cultural and translation notes:
- a jūnihitoe is literally a twelve-layer formalwear used in court and in genpuku
- a hōkan is similar to a court jester

Chapter 7: The Summer Solstice (Book One: Air)

Notes:

happy belated new year and happy maizula monday, sorry this one is short.

The avatar, it seemed, was a young airbender boy traveling with two inexperienced savages from the Southern Water Tribe, one an untrained waterbender and the other an unskilled nonbender. Ozai was not an unaccomplished Fire Emperor with the Lu and Han Provinces conquered and several successful raids performed on the Southern Water Tribe during his reign, but he had not had such good news in years, least of all from his pathetic half-nephew.

It was enough to warp his lips into a smile. He even laughed lightly as he contemplated how easy the fugitives’ capture should be so long as someone competent be sent in pursuit. What a good day it was.

“Send for Princess Azula,” he said to a servant. There was no reason to elaborate, to spoil the good news. Who better to tell first than his soon-to-be heir apparent?

The only problem that could be posed, of course, was Zhao’s word that the avatar had been captured by the boy. Even the thought of his worthless son’s name was troublesome. He had been removed from the line of succession for now, but perhaps giving him even false hope to reenter it had been a mistake rather than a suitable punishment.

While Ozai knew that the boy would be unable to successfully bring the avatar to him with or without the help of Ozai’s now-pathetic brother, he had not planned for the boy to get so close to discovering the avatar. He had been sure that the avatar would be handled by his conquest of earthbender country if not the raids on the Southern Water Tribe, that his sniveling mistake wouldn’t ever breathe near the avatar with how much of the bending world he was exiled from.

Ozai sighed. This was the most he’d thought of his… mistake since his exile had began. It was tiresome.

He imagined the future to soothe himself. He would send an elite team to retrieve the avatar and his companions, and he would see the avatar executed. Then, he would raid both the Water Tribes, succeeding where his grandfather had failed, and see the avatar’s reincarnation slaughtered too. And again in earthbender country as soon as he had the rest of it under his thumb—the Confederacy of Gaya and Kyoshi Island of the Three Kingdoms of Earth and the provinces of Yue, Qi, and Ba Sing Se of the Warring Earth States. They would kneel before him. The glory and prosperity of the Great Empire of Fire would reach every corner of the bending world.

A servant’s voice cut through his blissful thoughts. “Your Heavenly Sovereign, Princess Azula is not in the Imperial Palace,” it said. 

“What do you mean Azula is not here?” Ozai bit out.

The servant had the decency to flinch. “I searched her chambers, the Imperial Training Grounds, the Imperial Library, and even the Imperial Koi Pond, but she’s nowhere to be found.”

Ozai swore sharply. “Impossible. I will send more servants to search for my daughter,” he said. “Go gather them. Tell them their orders.”

“Wh—where will you be, Your Heavenly Sovereign?” the servant asked.

He glared at the feeble man. “You dare question your Fire Emperor?”

“N—no, of course not! My greatest apologies, Fire Emperor Ozai!”

Ozai did not give the man a second look. In sweeping, graceful form, he was off to find his daughter at the one haunt of hers that the servant had been too foolish to check: the Nakatomi household. He didn’t even bother with the palanquin today. There was no point wasting time when Azula had angered him so. What went through that girl’s head sometimes, he wondered. Did she want to make him angry? To make him have to hurt her? He hated to punish her.

He had already been so troubled by her the night before when she had requested to be excused from dinner to train. He had been so gracious, permitting her this.

Ozai shook his head. His daughter could be impossible, but he was sure he would get the answers he needed.

When Ozai arrived at the Nakatomi residence, he was greeted with the prostrated forms of Ukano and his wife. 

“To what do we owe this highest honor, Fire Emperor Ozai?” Michi asked obediently. She was a good wife in that sense. There were days that Ozai wished his wife had been more like her toward the end. There were days that Ozai wished Ukano would keep her on a tighter leash too. Today, he had no patience for her whatsoever.

“Both of you, rise. Have you seen Azula?”

Ukano blinked like the bumbling idiot he was.

“No, Your Heavenly Sovereign, we haven’t,” Michi answered.

“But Mai did leave sometime yesterday, saying she was going to spend the holiday with Princess Azula,” Ukano said.

Ozai felt his nostrils flare.

---

They had rented out the ferry to Tokushima for just the two of them. As Azula had told Mai, the banknotes and coin bag she had strapped underneath Azula’s leather-plated armor were completely unnecessary. Just being the princess was enough to pay their fee. Mai still thought it was worth it to have brought the money, though. Just in case.

She sighed as she spun three kunai, nimble fingers woven through their rings. Azula was sulking. She’d been tense all day, and she hadn’t said so much as a word since they’d boarded the ferry. All she’d done for the past half hour was stare up at the sun. Mai was getting bored of it. 

“Do you think I’ll lose a finger with my hobby?” she asked.

Azula didn’t even look away from the sun.

That sent Mai’s eyes rolling. “You shouldn’t look so morose.”

Azula didn’t move except for the raise of her eyebrow.

Mai’s eyes narrowed then, and she stopped spinning her kunai to stab one straight down into the railing that Azula rested her hands upon.

Azula was never one to flinch. Instead, her lips twisted up into a smirk. Delicately, she wrapped the hand that was centimeters away from the blade around it. It was hers now, Mai knew. “If you took one of my fingers off, Mai, that would be high treason, and you’re a nonbender, so it’d be straight to trial. Rigged, of course,” she said.

Mai chuckled softly. “Don’t lie. You’d fight the Agni Kai for me to prove my honor.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Azula asked. Her smirk was nearing a smile.

“Yeah,” Mai said.

“What makes you so sure?”

Mai was smiling now in earnest. “You always do, Princess Azula.”

“… Don’t be so formal. It’s just us,” Azula said, voice softer than either of them were used to.

“Is that an order?” Mai teased.

“From the future crown princess herself.” Azula was sounding more like herself again.

“Whatever you say… Azula.” The princess’ name felt more tender in Mai’s mouth than it had any right to feel.

Azula smiled.

Mai did too.

---

They had been traveling for almost a month now. It was going horribly. They couldn’t stop arguing, and they were taking too many breaks to cool down or storm off or any number of things that they hadn’t had to do before Aang had told them the truth. 

It was his fault that things were a wreck. He had ruined their little group, hurt them in a way that could not be undone.

He sighed. Today, Katara and Sokka were only giving him the cold shoulder at least. It was better than the blowout fights they’d had as of late. Appa was the only comfort he had, though he felt he didn’t deserve the sky bison considering what he’d done to Nyima.

But even Momo seemed to be siding with Katara and Sokka as he sat in Katara’s lap as far away from Aang as he could. 

It wasn’t that Aang blamed him or them or anyone but himself. He knew he’d screwed up. He knew that his reasoning didn’t matter. He had lied and lied deeply, horribly. He had broken their hearts and their faith alike.

Aang had to make this as close to right as he could. The Fire Temple had to work out. He had to find the avatar. The real avatar.

“Momo wants to know how much longer til we get there,” Katara said.

Aang tensed up. Breaking the cold shoulder these days always led to shouting, no matter what he did or said. He didn’t think that it being Katara’s birthday was putting her in a good enough mood to change that. “Oh, uh, not much longer. We’re over the Eastern Sea now, so I think we’re an hour or two away now.”

“Hold on, Katara. How do we know we can trust a word this guy says? We know he’s a liar, after all,” Sokka said.

Momo made a rude hand gesture.

Aang shrunk. There was a time this kind of behavior from Momo would have made him laugh. This was not that time. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but this time, you just have to take my word for it.”

“Easier said than done,” Katara scoffed.

Aang had done this to himself. He knew that. He had hurt them, had taken something beautiful and stomped all over it. That knowledge didn’t make it easier to stomach them hating him.

Appa cried out. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. We’ll be there soon. I promise,” Aang said, rubbing Appa’s head soothingly.

“Don’t trust him, Appa!” Sokka said. “With his track record, I bet we won’t be there for another day at least. If he’s even taking us to the Fire Temple.”

---

Tracking the avatar across the land had been nightmarish. It was good to return to Inari even if he was heading dangerously close to the Great Empire of Fire in his pursuit of the avatar. Even if he was in a ship race with that bastard Zhao.

Today was the summer solstice. He had Amaterasu on his side now more than ever. If he could just beat Zhao to the punch, he could take down the avatar. He was sure of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Prince Zuko?” Iroh asked. It was the third time he’d asked it. “Entering the Great Empire of Fire would be most dangerous for us.”

“It’s fine, Oji-sama. Once we bring the avatar to Chichi-ue, he’ll understand,” Zuko said.

“Are you sure, though? My brother is not the most understanding man,” Iroh said.

Zuko ignored that. “Doesn’t this ship go any faster, Hisakawa?” he asked.

“She’s going as fast as she can,” Hisakawa said curtly. He himself had also voiced several concerns with his orders, but as long as Zuko pressed on this, as long as Iroh supported him, Hisakawa would do as he was told. Zuko was sure of it.

“At least they haven’t noticed us yet,” Zuko said.

---

Someone was launching giant fireballs at them in an attempt to down them. The enemy was slow to fire at them at the very least, but it was still hard to maneuver Appa to avoid each blast without knocking Katara, Sokka, and Momo off the flying bison.

“Of course that freak show Zuko is following us! Your lousy driving probably made it easy!” Sokka said.

“Now is not the time!” Aang said as he tried to stand up on Appa without falling off. “We have to work together!”

“Work with you!? How can we work with you when we can’t even trust you!?” Katara demanded.

It hurt. Aang would admit that. But he didn’t have time to be hurt. “Look, I know you guys are mad! You’re right to be! But if we waste time arguing, then we’ll die!” he said.

Sokka and Katara exchanged a look. Their eyes were hard, but they both seemed to come to an agreement of sorts.

“Fine. We’ll work with you, but I don’t see how we’re supposed to combat flaming balls of—ugh, what is that?” Sokka made a face.

Aang sighed in relief. “Sokka, can you steer Appa for me?”

Sokka nodded and swapped seats with Aang.

“Thanks. Katara, I need you to use your waterskin. You’re going to extinguish the flames, and I’m going to airbend to send it back at them. Got it?”

Katara’s eyes sharpened. “I’m not a little kid. I’ve got it.”

They stood at the edge of the saddle, and they waited.

“Now!” Aang said.

Katara coated the fireball with water, desperately stretching it as much as she could. She didn’t have enough water to put it out entirely, but she extinguished enough that Aang didn’t feel too guilty sending the ball back down at their assailant.

With a whoosh, he brought his staff down in a sweeping motion. The ball was falling now. Down it went until it crashed into the deck of the ship that had launched it at them.

Aang grinned wide and turned to Katara who had a matching smile on her face.

“We did it!” he said, exchanging a high-five with her.

“That was amazing!” Sokka said.

“You were incredible!” Katara said, and then her face twisted into the angry glare from earlier. “I mean, you did fine. We had to work together, I guess. Whatever.”

“Right. Yeah,” Sokka said.

Aang felt his heart sink.

---

Zuko’s head whipped around to watch as Zhao’s ship, Kimon, was left in the dust with damage that was surely too great for it to continue on. He felt a twisted sense of what was almost pride at the avatar and his companions’ ability to defeat Zhao. It only meant that he would be the one to capture the avatar after all.

“Did you see that, Oji-sama?” Zuko asked.

“I did, Oigo-kun,” Iroh said gravely. “It’s a good thing we didn’t attack them then.”

“Not like this ship is made for that,” Hisakawa said under his breath.

Zuko glared at him. “I would never be so cowardly as to attack from the sea. I’m going to defeat him in one-on-one combat to restore my honor.”

Hisakawa snorted at that, but Iroh rested a hand over Zuko’s spine.

“Indeed you will,” Iroh said.

---

Ozai clicked his tongue as his airship flew over Tokushima. The ferry that should have been in the Hondo port was docked there.

“Land as close to the temple as you can. We have no time to waste on shrines today,” he instructed. It was perhaps a touch rash to skip over paying his respects at the shrine as was customary to do when visiting Tokushima, but Ozai could feel his inner flame burning deeply, threatening to melt even his skeleton. His good mood from earlier had dissipated completely. Azula had ruined it with her little stunt. 

He would have to punish her now. It was no good if she believed she could act freely, living out any will but his own.

“Yes, of course, Fire Emperor Ozai,” the pilot said.

“You will stay put when we land. I have business to attend to,” Ozai said. He had a daughter who needed to be reminded of her place, of her loyalty. What was she thinking? What could she possibly gain from lying to him about her whereabouts and going to the Fire Temple without his permission? What was there for her here that he could not provide for her?

Perhaps she was as ungrateful a brat as her brother.

The airship began its descent, but the pilot was unable to get nearly as close to the Fire Temple as Ozai had wished. He would have to remember to see the man punished for his incompetence when he had retrieved his insolent daughter and her friend.

Ozai exited the airship alone, and he began his journey to the nearby Fire Temple.

---

Mai’s uncle Shyu was noticeably absent from the Fire Sages who were escorting them through the temple. Not only that, but they had refused to let Azula speak to tell them what it was she needed, instead seemingly stalling for time by saying they had to take her to Meiji.

Azula was thoroughly suspicious of the sages. Their reluctance to hear her or Mai out was worrisome. The knowledge of what Shyu had said did not put her at ease whatsoever. It only made her all the tenser.

Mai looked at her.

Without moving her head, she looked back, her eyes sliding to find Mai’s.

Mai, too, was unsure of the Fire Sages’ intentions. Mai, too, was ready for a fight if it came down to it. It was good to know they were on the same page again. It was almost comforting to know that they understood each other so intrinsically.

Azula chose not to linger on the feeling. She didn’t have time for sentimentality. She never did.

There were strange noises coming from down the corridor, flashes of orange light.

“Where is my uncle?” Mai demanded. “Is my grandfather even here?”

The Fire Sages exchanged uneasy looks.

Azula grabbed one by the robes, igniting blue flames in her palm to threaten him. “Answer her.”

“Divine Master Meiji is at the shrine currently,” he said, “and Shyu’s whereabouts are unknown, though he can’t be far!”

Useless man. Azula threw him backward, extinguishing her flames. She let him thunk against the wall. “So you idiots are taking us on a wild goose chase then?” Azula accused. “Why?”

The oldest Fire Sage swallowed. “Why did you choose to visit, Princess Azula? We cannot change your father’s verdict about your mastery of firebending.”

There was the hiss of Mai’s shuriken descending to her hands. “You know, don’t you?” she asked.

“There is no need for weaponry, Nakatomi-hime,” another Fire Sage said.

And then the strangest thing happened. Zuko came barreling down the corridor, pushed back by the attacks of Fire Sage Shyu.

Azula was utterly bewildered by this development. There was no reason for her idiot of a brother to be in Tokushima, for him to even set foot in the Great Empire of Fire at all. He was banished. Their father’s word was as good as any spirit’s. She looked around her. 

Mai was just as confused as she felt by his appearance, and the Fire Sages were clearly surprised too.

Zuko finally caught sight of her and Mai, it seemed. He glared.

A blue and silver boomerang went flying straight into his head before returning down the corridor to a Water Tribe peasant. Behind him stood a bald boy with airbender tattoos running down his head and arms wielding a staff and a Water Tribe girl. Today was getting stranger and stranger.

Zuko staggered and swore before righting himself. “What are you two doing here?” he demanded.

Azula rolled her eyes, straightening herself out. She would not look as foolish as her brother. “What an unacceptable way to speak to your honorable sister and your betrothed, Zuzu. I think the better question is what are you doing here? You’re banished.”

“Chichi-ue will understand when I explain to him!” Zuko said.

“Tell me, have you taken to bullying small children? Is that what you think Chichi-ue will be so understanding of?” Azula drawled.

Mai snickered slightly at her side.

“Technically, I’m a hundred and eleven,” the arrowhead said.

“He’ll understand me hunting the avatar down as he tasked me with doing, Azula!” Zuko said, gesturing to the boy.

Azula’s intrigue was piqued at the mention of the avatar, at the implication that it was this boy and not her. She did not let it show. “Oh? The avatar? Is that fool’s errand going well then?”

“I’m no fool!” Zuko said.

“No, of course, you aren’t. You’ve only been bothering the Fire Sages and chasing down spirits you will never be strong enough to defeat let alone capture,” Azula said. She pretended to check her manicure for a moment as Zuko’s chest heaved and his face contorted with anger. Before he could retort or catch his breath, she sent a bolt of lightning over his head in warning.

He ducked lower than he needed to. It wasn’t as if she was aiming to kill.

The Fire Sages scattered, taking Shyu with them.

Azula ignored them and did not allow Zuko time to recover. She wasn’t in the mood to toy with her traitorous brother today. If there were enemies of the Dragon Throne in the Great Empire of Fire, she would deal with them with divine justice. Swiftly and efficiently, she barraged him with attack after attack. Sending crescent kicks and flame-laden jabs at him, she combined the footwork of an airbender with the ruthlessness of a firebender.

“Blue fire! Blue fire!” the Water Tribe boy said. “Why is her fire blue!?”

Mai had already launched into an attack against the peasants, though. She was sharp as ever, pinning their silhouettes with blade after blade until they were nicely scathed and bloody.

The savage girl was a waterbender, in the end, but her splashing was not enough to deter Mai from her goal. 

The peasant boy was hopelessly trying to outclass Mai with a sword, slashing at the blades she disseminated with graceful flicks of her wrist. He couldn’t even push her to draw the tanto she had brought.

Azula was more than pleased with both of their performances as she stunned Zuko long enough and as Mai trapped the peasants long enough for Azula to grab the arrowhead and run. She knew the layout of the temple well enough from her studies and her visits alike to drag him quickly to the room where the statue of Avatar Roku stood. The room that the Fire Sages had tried to keep her from.

This was something she’d learned in the restricted section of the Imperial Library. This was what they had been counting on, albeit without this child in their way. It was better this way, though.

On the solstice, the avatar could confer with the statue of their past life. Azula wasn’t sure exactly how it was triggered—her readings had been skimpy on the exact details, all of them blacked out or undetailed to start with. Still, she had to try.

It was for the best that it be this boy. She could bring him to her father and solidify her place as his heir apparent that way.

“Uh, nice to meet you, but can you bring me back to my friends,” the boy requested in Higo. “I’m Aang, though!”

“Silence,” she hissed, masking her surprise at his fluency in her native tongue.

It took five simultaneous blasts of flame to open the door. It would require a Master Firebender’s skill. This was how she could prove herself.

“I’m sure you’re a really gifted firebender—I mean, you look really skilled, at least, but doesn’t that take a Master Firebender to open it?” Aang asked.

“I am a Master Firebender,” she said simply. With a deep breath, Azula released five blasts of fire at each target engraved into the door. To her immense satisfaction, it opened.

“Whoa…” the boy breathed out.

With a smirk, Azula said, “Not one hair out of place.”

“Huh?”

She dragged him by the wrist into the room

---

In the distance, Azula opened the door that required a Master Firebender’s touch. Zuko hated her for it. Of course, she was already a Master Firebender at thirteen. Fourteen, he realized. Today was Azula’s birthday. His scowl deepened.

“I told her,” Mai said. There was something like affection coloring her voice. Or maybe it was pride. Zuko had never been very good at reading her mood.

“What? What’s so impressive?” the Water Tribe boy asked.

“She’s a Master Firebender,” Mai said casually. “Also, you’re so not getting past me.”

“A Master Firebender’s got Aang,” the Water Tribe girl said. Her eyes were wide and teary. 

The boy’s eyes hardened. “I’ll seriously kill that kid if he dies now.”

“Let us through,” the girl demanded of Mai.

Zuko offered both the Water Tribe siblings (at least, he thought they were siblings) a glance. “Azula is my enemy too,” he said.

“I would never work with you,” the girl spat out at him.

“Like ever!” the boy said. “You suck!”

“Well, that’s a relief. Three against one sounds kind of unfair,” Mai said. “Azula really owes me after this.”

Zuko attacked the Water Tribe savages first with jets of orange flames illuminating his arms.

The girl was quick as ever, her bending having progressed greatly in the time he’d been chasing them. Every flame he sent at her was met with a slash of water.

He could hear blades clashing, but he was completely fixated on what was attacking him. A water whip, a sword blade, a shuriken—it was more than enough to keep him on his toes. This was what he had to get through to get to Azula, though.

He could do it. He didn’t need anyone on his side but himself.

---

The stone statue’s blank eyes glowed like jade. Azula felt her stomach drop as the world around her disappeared. The statue was not a statue at all but a spirit. Her spirit.

“Princess Azula, you already know, don’t you?” Avatar Roku asked.

Azula said nothing.

“Be stubborn, dragon-hearted girl. Forty-nine days following the death of Avatar Nyima, the airbender girl who sacrificed herself to save her friend’s life, Avatar Mikilaaq was born to the Southern Water People. She was imprisoned, however, during her thirteenth year in one of your grandfather’s raids for being a waterbender. Before anyone could identify her as the avatar. Twenty-four years later, she was killed by an illness contracted during her imprisonment.

“Forty-nine days following the death of Avatar Mikilaaq, the earthbender Avatar Chiê'n was born in the colonized territory of Đất Nam. It was illegal for him to even earthbend, and so he never discovered his true nature and responsibilities as the avatar. He died peacefully of old age in his sleep fourteen years ago.

“Forty-nine days following the death of Avatar Chiê'n, an unnamed girl was born to the Imperial House of Fire with a legacy of horror for her to either inherit or reject. I believe you are quite familiar with her,” he said.

“I am,” she said at last. Her throat was quite dry. Speaking was almost painful, and doing so did not come with the bravery she had hoped it might.

Avatar Roku laughed mirthlessly. “You are aware why the Fire Sage told you so soon then, are you not?”

“Sozin’s Comet arrives for the first time in a hundred years in a year’s time,” she said, “and my lord father plans to use it to win the Heavenly War of Tranquility.”

“And it is your responsibility as the avatar to stop him,” Avatar Roku said. “You would do well to remember this, Princess Azula.”

“To betray my father is to betray my country,” Azula said coldly.

“You say that as if it were a bad thing.”

---

Zuko was taking too long. Iroh felt the worry set into his bones. He had to go make sure his nephew was unharmed. It was time to rouse sleeping dragons. It was time to return to a country he had fled from.

Iroh made his way to the temple, stopping only at the shrine to pay his respects and ask for strength in his quest. He was a religious man, and he would not take any chances.

When he crossed the threshold into the Fire Temple, he felt the cold of danger wash over him.

There were loud noises, battle sounds likely, coming from within the temple. He followed them as quickly as he could, trying desperately to locate and retrieve Zuko. The avatar be damned. He wanted his nephew to be safe.

He found Zuko in a mess, dripping wet like a cat, and held at knifepoint by his betrothed, Mai.

Iroh was prepared to light up himself to extract the boy.

“Ani-ue, what a surprise to see you,” Ozai said.

Zuko, Mai, and the Water Tribe siblings ceased their fighting.

“Yes, indeed. A family reunion was so unexpected,” Yōmei said. “I bet you thought you were rid of me after that little fireball incident.”

Iroh felt his own inner flame flicker dangerously. “My dear nephew and younger brother, how good to see you both,” he said with a smile etched on his face.

“Nakatomi, restrain those three,” Ozai said, ignoring him entirely.

“Of course, Fire Emperor Ozai.”

The door before them opened. The young airbender boy stood by as Princess Azula floated before them with glowing eyes. He was not the avatar. Not even close.

Ozai smiled. It was the first time that Iroh had seen him do such a thing in many years. It was the most earnest his smile had been since they were children. The sight was horribly offputting.

“I knew I chose the right heir. You will be crown princess soon enough, Azula,” he said. “All you have to do is return home with me.”

Princess Azula’s voice echoed with the force of the spirits when her mouth moved to speak. “Princess Azula will never return to you again, Ozai. The avatar is not your weapon to wield. Your daughter does not live to carry out your will.”

“Avatar Roku, you coward. Give me my daughter back immediately! Azula, please, I love you. I want you to be safe. No harm will come to you if you just come home,” Ozai said.

Iroh felt hollow hearing those words. He looked to Zuko and found a broken-hearted boy staring desperately at his father, at a man who would never love him as he should.

“You dare speak of love after all you have done?” Avatar Roku asked through Princess Azula. “Regardless, the avatar’s will shall not bend for you just because the avatar is your daughter.”

Iroh watched on as Princess Azula’s body moved through the motions of Susanoo’s technique, as her ki split into two halves, as the air crackled with electricity around them.

Ozai was undeterred. He stepped into the room and toward his daughter. “I will protect you, my dragon. From everything that threatens you, including this fool’s spirit,” he said.

Princess Azula’s lightningbending fizzled out of existence. Her eyes began to flicker gold, the color which she had inherited from her father.

The airbender boy spun his staff and a vortex of air appeared where it was. “Stay away from her!” he warned.

“Move, fool,” Ozai said.

Yōmei took a fighting stance from where he stood, always prepared to defend his Fire Emperor, no matter how much Iroh knew he loathed the man.

The airbender boy stood steady, though, and when Ozai attacked, he evaded and turned each blow back on Ozai with ease. For all his brother’s skill, Iroh knew that Ozai had never fought an airbender before nor had he cared to study their techniques. So few people had. Even sparring against Princess Azula, who had taken more than a touch of inspiration from the airbenders in her fighting style, could never have dreamt of preparing Ozai for the real thing.

---

Mai felt like her head might burst.

She thought it looked as if Avatar Roku was flickering out of Azula’s body and her friend was coming back to her. Azula was certainly done floating.

Mai wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do other than keep Zuko and the Water Tribe peasants away from Azula. 

“Azula’s the avatar,” Zuko was mumbling, “but the avatar was supposed to be the boy.”

“Shut up, Zuko,” Mai snapped at him.

It was then that the waterbender girl broke free from Mai’s hold on her and ran to where Azula was standing, blinking as though she was coming down from something awful.

“We’re going,” she said boldly, taking Azula by the hand.

Azula blinked hard at her.

Mai tensed. Her body went cold. This could not be happening. Azula would never go willingly with them. She was loyal to their country first. She was smart enough to not commit treason just because she was the avatar—her father was willing to accept it even. Everything would be okay if Azula only ripped her hand free from this peasant girl and came home with Mai. They would be okay.

The Water Tribe boy broke free.

“We’re going,” the waterbender repeated. Her voice was more desperate this time.

Azula opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Not even flames. And just like that, she was being dragged away from Mai. Dragged away from the Great Empire of Fire.

Mai followed before she knew what she was doing. She could see only Azula, even when she recognized the bald head of the airbender boy and the dark skin of the Water Tribe peasants running or the sets of footsteps behind her.

Taking Azula by the hand and stealing her away from Mai.

There was a light at the end of the corridor. Open, free light. Azula was disappearing into it.

Mai reached the light with her lungs burning and only the thought of Azula on her mind. Azula who was on some kind of—flying bison, Mai supposed. There was a split second where Mai lurched forward to follow her, where nothing but Azula and Mai mattered, where Mai could follow Azula as she always had.

And then the second was over, and Fire Emperor Ozai was beside her.

“Azula—” Mai called out.

Azula looked back at her, eyes wide.

Fire Emperor Ozai sent a blast of lightning after the beast carrying his daughter away, but Mai’s own uncle, who Mai had forgotten about entirely, shoved him to the side, and the bolt shot out endlessly past the bison and its riders.

Zhao restrained him immediately, but it was all background noise to Mai.

Azula was gone.

“… Farewell,” Mai whispered. Her eyes burned. There was a single salt track down her cheek.

---

Of course, it would turn out that the one chance Yōmei had to see Iroh prostrate himself before Fire Emperor Ozai to beg for forgiveness would be on a day too disastrous for him to even enjoy the sight.

“I understand that we have violated the terms of Zuko’s banishment, but please spare his life. It was my responsibility to keep us away from the Great Empire of Fire, and I am the one who failed,” Iroh was saying.

Fire Emperor Ozai did not so much as acknowledge Iroh’s pleading. “Nakatomi, I will see you in the Dragon Throne Room when you return to Heian-kyō,” he said instead.

The Nakatomi girl, who Yōmei had seen move to follow after the princess, tensed immeasurably. “Yes, Your Heavenly Sovereign,” she said.

“You two, as… touching as this family reunion has been, the two of you are to leave immediately. I may have more pressing matters to deal with, but I promise you that I will not be so forgiving a second time,” Fire Emperor Ozai said to Zuko and Iroh.

Iroh got up immediately, going to grab Zuko and leave.

Before they could, though, Fire Emperor Ozai spoke once more. “There is one thing. If either of you shares with anyone, even the crew of… Inari, what you witnessed here today, there will be no mercy and no restraint.”

Yōmei smirked. If nothing else, he had this.

“Yōmei, don’t look so pleased. It seems you gave me bad intel,” Fire Emperor Ozai said.

“That may be true, my most honorable uncle, but I told you only what I believed to be true,” Yōmei said. For once, he had the utmost confidence in speaking with the man. After all, it was already too late for Fire Emperor Ozai. He had shown his hand, and Yōmei knew exactly how to manipulate it.

---

“Did we just do that?” the Water Tribe boy asked in Imiqtitut. Azula's studying the language was useful after all.

Azula was still processing the sky bison she was sitting upon. These beasts were supposed to be extinct. She was supposed to be going home now, certain that she was not the avatar. Nothing was as it was meant to be.

“I think so, yeah,” the waterbender said. “We were really brave, weren’t we?”

“Exceptionally so,” the airbender said.

The three of them exchanged bright-eyed beams. Azula was stunned into silence by their audacity.

“I can’t believe that plan worked,” the nonbender boy said with a breathless sort of laugh. “Seriously, dude, that’s crazy.” There was a moment of utter bliss, and then he cleared his throat. “Uh, we should introduce ourselves now that we’ve got the real avatar. The name’s Sokka. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m his sister, Katara. Sorry that we’re meeting like this,” the waterbender said.

“My name is Aang, and the little guy on Sokka’s head is Momo. It’s an honor to meet you, Princess Azula,” the airbender said, sadness coloring his voice. Even the little rodent bowed to her.

Katara cleared her throat when Azula said nothing to them. “Right. We have some things we’ll have to work out if you’re the Fire Emperor’s daughter, but I’m sure—”

“Sure of what? That I’ll side with peasants like you? Why would I betray my nation when we could finally end the Heavenly War of Tranquility?” Azula spat out. “You kidnapped me.”

“What!? Heavenly War? And we did not kidnap you!” Katara said, astonished for reasons beyond Azula’s comprehension. “I asked you to come with us, and you didn’t say no!”

“Asked?” Azula snorted. “You said you were leaving, and you grabbed me and ran, savage.”

Katara uncapped her waterskin and prepared to whip Azula across the face with the water in it.

Azula ignited a blade of flame from her fingertips.

“Ah! Scary blue fire!” Sokka said, trying to yank Katara behind him without knocking her off the saddle.

“No fighting on Appa!” Aang said. “Azula—”

“Princess Azula,” she corrected instinctually.

“Um, Princess Azula,” he started, “you definitely shouldn’t call Katara that, but you’re right about the kidnapping. Katara, I know what you meant to say, but you conjugated it wrong. You said we were going, and then you grabbed her and ran.”

Katara leveled him with a glare.

“Sorry,” he said meekly, “but we didn’t mean to kidnap you, Princess Azula! It was an accident—we just needed you to come with us so we could win the war!”

“Take me back,” Azula said sharply.

“There’s no way we can do that,” Sokka said. “Sorry, Princess, but that’s out of the question.”

“So you’re going to continue kidnapping me, and you expect me to side with you in the Heavenly War?” Azula asked. She really couldn’t believe the audacity of these peasants. They were awful, and if she knew how to fly this sky bison without them, she’d kill them all. As it stood, she could probably only get away with killing the Water Tribe peasants, and from how Aang had handled himself with her father, she couldn’t be sure that she could take him in a fight. Especially not while flying on something so unstable.

“You should side with us because what your country is doing is wrong!” Sokka said.

“They killed our mother,” Katara said quietly.

Azula looked at her curiously.

“During the raids of the Southern Water People,” Katara continued, “they target our elders, our shaman, and our waterbenders. They’re trying to completely eradicate our culture, to steal our identity from us. And I was the last waterbender in the South Pole. In the last raid, they came for me. I was eight. I guess they’d heard there was a waterbender they missed, but my mother… she identified herself as the last waterbender of the Southern Water People. And they killed her. They murdered her where she stood. Incinerated her. Without even—without any care at all for our funeral rites.”

Stupidly, against reason, Azula felt pain lodge itself in her throat. Her heart hurt more than it should have for this girl who had stolen her from her home, who was trying to turn her against her own father.

“How would you feel if they killed your mother?” Katara asked, her eyes teary.

Any trace of compassion Azula might have felt for the girl died. “My country did kill my mother. Well, my father did. It’s the same thing. Chichi-ue is my country,” she said dismissively. It wasn’t entirely true. She had no actual proof that he had killed the woman, but she was sure that he had. Why else wouldn’t she have come back—for Zuko?

“Aren’t you angry?” Katara demanded. “That was your mother, and they stole her from you!”

Sokka’s knuckles were white.

Azula rolled her eyes. “I don’t particularly care. She was hardly my mother when she was alive.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then, Aang spoke. “They killed my people.”

“Completely justifiable,” Azula said with a roll of her eyes. She could hardly believe the Battles at the Air Temples were being brought up as a slight of her country against the Air Nation.

“It was a surprise attack!” Aang said, sounding angry now.

“That’s ahistorical,” she said. “It was a negotiation, and they attacked first. If they had only surrendered, my great-great-grandfather would have spared their lives.”

They stared at her, wide-eyed as if she had said something absurd. Did they not know basic military history? Aang especially should have known the truth about his people.

“Do you seriously believe that?” Aang asked her quietly.

Azula rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“But who told you that?” Sokka asked.

“The Imperial Fire Academy for Girls. It’s only the finest education money can buy. Everything I’ve ever read about the Heavenly War of Tranquility has confirmed it as well. What source could possibly have disagreed?” Azula asked.

“Every other one,” Aang said. “Your textbooks—they’re wrong. I’ll take you to the Eastern Air Temple to prove it.”

Azula sighed. “I suppose I have no choice but to go with you if you’re kidnapping me.”

“Stop calling us kidnappers!” Sokka said.

Momo stuck his tongue out at her.

Azula was speechless.

---

Katara hated the avatar. She was trying not to, but the girl was impossible. She refused to let them refer to her without the title of princess, she was cold and rude, she was a complete apologist for her country’s every awful action, and she was utterly heartless as far as Katara could tell. Even Appa seemed upset at having her riding with them.

Still, there was room to fix her. Katara was sure there was. There had to be, after all. Azula had to be reformable, had to take a new shape, a kinder one, a gentler one. Otherwise, this was all pointless. They would lose the war, and Katara could never forgive Aang then.

She wanted to forgive him. One day. Not today. Not when she had yet to let go of her anger, when Azula had not given her proof that it was safe to. But someday. Hopefully someday soon.

Katara sighed.

The saddle had gone quiet once more. She was back to giving Aang the cold shoulder with Sokka, and Azula had zero interest in speaking with any of them it seemed.

“So why do you three hate each other?” Azula asked suddenly.

Katara wished she would go back to not having any interest in speaking with any of them.

“We don’t hate each other,” Sokka said. “We’re just—actually, it’s none of your business because you suck!”

Azula raised her eyebrow at that.

“Why did you attack your father?” Katara asked, surprising herself.

Azula’s eyebrows flattened, and her expression soured. The sight made Katara feel pleased with herself. “I did not attack my father. I was possessed by Avatar Roku’s spirit. I would never go against my father.”

“That’s great for us,” Sokka said sarcastically.

“Even if he hurt you?” Katara asked, ignoring her brother.

She expected Azula to wax poetic about how her father—her country, as she’d said—would never harm her. Instead, Azula said, “I owe my father everything. I am but his humble servant, indebted to him eternally. I could never go against him.”

“Why not? If he hurt you, why shouldn’t you go against him to defend yourself?” Katara asked.

“What do you mean you’re indebted to him anyway?” Sokka asked. “That’s kind of screwed up. I can’t imagine our dad putting conditions on his love for us.”

“It’s filial piety,” Azula said simply. “It’s not about conditional love; it’s about the value of blood, coveted and born.”

They sat with that for a long moment. Then, Aang said, “My friend Kuzon always made it sound a let less dramatic than you do.”

Katara didn’t laugh. Even if she hadn’t been mad at Aang, she didn’t know how to right now. She sighed instead. “This is the worst birthday ever,” she said.

Azula looked horrified.

---

The Nakatomi girl was prostrated before him, sprawled out almost like a nice rug on the Dragon Throne Room floor. His flames danced around them, though Ozai felt dangerously cold at that moment.

“Nakatomi Mai, I task you now with the retrieval of my daughter through any means necessary, although, ideally, she will come back willingly,” he said, his voice booming. 

She was far from his first choice for such an important mission, but he had very little choice at all in the matter. Zhao was an opportunist bastard who could not be trusted with the safety of his daughter, and Iroh and the boy were worthless to him. 

The Nakatomi girl was, at least, a trusted confidant of the princess. She knew Azula’s personality and skillset intricately, understood how her mind worked, how she operated under pressure. She was not untrained, by any means. She was a noble-blooded girl who was in her penultimate year at the Imperial Fire Academy for Girls with great skill in blades of all kinds from what Azula had said.

Better yet, she already knew of Azula’s kidnapping.

He need not involve anyone further.

“Yes, Fire Emperor Ozai,” she said dutifully. “I will recover Princess Azula.”

“Your family will move ahead to New Azula without you in the meanwhile. You will have access to unlimited resources in this quest, but you are not to tell a soul that she has… been stolen from our great nation. Azula’s kidnapping need not be knowledge passed to anyone who is not already aware or under oath,” he said.

“Thank you for your generosity,” she said. “However, I won’t need manpower. Only means for travel.”

So that was her plan. She was going to seek out the help of his traitorous son and weak brother. He could only hope that she was strong enough to accommodate for their uselessness in such a pursuit.

Ozai laughed lowly. “Don't forget to give your betrothed my regards, Nakatomi.”

He watched as the girl’s nails bit into the flesh of her palms. He imagined her asking the spirits to help her in her quest. It satisfied him greatly.

Notes:

additional cws: disccussions of parental death

translation + cultural notes:
- kimon means demon gate

up next: the kyoshi warriors make a comeback, cultural appropriation is bad actually, and an unexpected but familiar face appears

Chapter 8: Kshanti (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this took forever because i didn’t want to write the b plot or rewatch any of atla at all for their characterization of certain characters. but i did it. we’re back. and, yes, this is now one big fic instead of a series. i will warn that there's a lot of oc's this chapter, and note that i'm probably going to post something on my tumblr (here) to help you keep track of them and their traits

Returning to Hondo to receive her orders from Fire Emperor Ozai before setting off had truly eaten away at Mai’s time. She felt hopeless as she sailed her one-man ship westward to the Three Kingdoms of Earth. Perhaps it had been a mistake to insist on going alone for this portion of her quest. Even Inari was faster than her little dinghy.

But it felt right, too. Anyone else’s presence would’ve discouraged her from seeking out Zuko and Prince Iroh’s help in her mission. While Prince Iroh kept his honor, Zuko was all but an enemy of the Great Empire of Fire. He was so disgraced in their nation for his crime that Mai had felt her own honor drained from her tie to him as his betrothed. It certainly hadn’t made her life any easier the last two and a half years.

Still, she grit her teeth and would not allow herself to regret this decision. For Azula’s sake, she would involve as few people as possible. And if anyone had the will to find the avatar, she knew it to be Zuko. He was a stubborn boy like that, always stuck on things anyone else would have moved on from.

Mai sighed. Her skin felt hot beneath the balmy summer day. If her mother had been around to see her so unprotected under sunlight, she would have hit Mai for her carelessness. She would catch a tan at this rate. How unladylike.

Only people as selfish as Azula and Zuko would put Mai through such an ordeal.

Part of her hated them both for it she stared down the clear blue of the saltwater beneath her. Whatever Mai wanted, it had never been this.

Sullenly, she hooked a kunai to a white wire. She wasn’t hungry, but she did feel the urge to stab something, and Zuko wasn’t an option at the moment.

---

The Kyoshi Warriors had been traveling around the Three Kingdoms of Earth for two months now, and it was strange how little it seemed to matter in the grand scale of things. They had done good in that time, had helped families, fought the Empire of Fire where they could, instilled hope in hearts, but it seemed futile to Suki with the fall of Omashu—New Azula, they were calling it, after the Fire Emperor’s daughter. Suki hated Princess Azula as she hated Fire Emperor Ozai as she hated his whole family tree. She wanted to turn that tree to kindling the way he had done to so many others.

It was a far away fantasy for the time being. Suki knew that it might stay that way forever. She had parted ways with the avatar, and even if she hadn’t, she could hardly see Aang ending the Imperial House of Fire entirely when he won the war.

Suki was sure that he would win the war. That was what the avatar did: bring balance to the world. Balance, in Suki’s mind, was the end of the war, the restoration of peace, the reparations that would follow.

For now, though, there was suffering and there was an oppressive sort of uselessness that weighed down upon her shoulders. It wasn’t that she could do nothing but that she could do nothing of value. It was a reality that was seeping into the minds of each of the Kyoshi Warriors, Suki could see. They had done nothing on Kyoshi Island but chase ghosts, and they could do nothing off of it but be good samaritans.

“This sucks, Suki,” Yihwa said.

“You’re so optimistic,” one of the older girls, Ha-yoon, quipped. She spared the Yihwa a smile. Ha-yoon adored all of the other warriors, but, like everyone else, had an impossibly soft spot for Yihwa, the youngest of the group.

Yihwa stuck her tongue out back at Ha-yoon.

“Stop fighting with children, Ha-yoon,” Yi-seul, the oldest Kyoshi Warrior (“not by much,” Ha-yoon always reminded her), said.

Ha-yoon grinned like a wolf dog and wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t worry, Yi-seul. I’ll always save the best of myself for fighting with you.”

Yi-seul scowled and shoved Ha-yoon off of her.

Ha-yoon feigned hurt at this, pantomiming a broken heart.

Some of the girls snickered, Yihwa included. She was always so amused by their closeness.

Ordinarily, Suki would have found such an exchange endearing. In these circumstances, Suki just frowned at the sight. She wouldn’t voice her doubts about their journey, though. Especially not when she felt eyes prickling the back of her neck.

“You feel it too, Sook?” Chae-won asked. Her fingers were itching toward her fan.

Suki darted her eyes around their surroundings. They were in the middle of nowhere in New Azulon, surrounded by foliage and towering trees. That wasn’t good if they were being tailed by ashmakers or anyone else. The environment did not work to their advantage.

“You’re loud, Chae,” Bongseon said from the corner of her mouth.

Chae-won shrugged an apology back.

The remaining Kyoshi Warriors—Hana, Ha-yoon, Yi-seul, Kyuri, Ara, Ye-rin, Mi-yeon, Nabi, and Yihwa—seemed to be picking up on the mood now. As always, Yihwa was the last to pick up on it, much to Ye-rin’s ever-growing distress.

Suki signaled to them in Earth Sign Language to stay alert.

Except, it wasn’t ashmakers who descended upon them from the trees; it was a group of fifteen kids, for the most part no older than Suki. Many of them looked to be Yihwa’s age or even younger.

They didn’t attack, at least not immediately. Instead, a tan boy with brown hair and a smug look to his face stepped forward.

Immediately, Suki knew she hated him.

“You’re not ashmakers,” he said, “but you’re not from here either. Who are you?”

Another boy, shorter but also broader than the first and with earthbender green eyes, signed along to the other boy’s words.

“Funny. I was gonna ask you that,” Suki said. She rested her dominant hand on the hilt of her jingum.

The first boy mirrored her, resting his hands on the hilts of what looked like tigerheads on either side of him. “We’re just doing the neighborly thing,” he said.

“I’d drop the fans if I was you,” a short-haired girl said, nodding at Chae-won.

“The swords too,” a big guy said. He was massive. Suki thought he could kill someone just by resting his knee on their chest.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Bongseon slowly but surely distanced her hand from the hilt of her jingum, tentative to listen to him but not wanting to cause a fight.

“What’s your business here?” the boy asked.

“Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine,” Suki said.

The boys lips twisted upward into a slant. It was almost a smile. “You’re kind of cute, you know. It’d be a shame if I had to kill you.”

“Wish I could say the same of you,” she shot back.

She heard a giggle stifled. She thought it might be Yihwa or Hana and felt strangely soothed by the knowledge. Her girls were all right for now. She just had to keep them that way.

“C’mon, gorgeous, there’s no need for this to get ugly. Just give me your name. I’m not ashmaker scum; you’re not ashmaker scum. What’s the harm?” he asked.

“… I’m Suki,” she said after a long moment of thought.

He smiled. “That wasn’t so hard. I’m Jet.” He didn’t pull his hands off the hilts of his tigerheads, though.

Suki didn’t move away from her jingum either. “We’re here to help,” she said.

“Us too,” he said, “but we don’t do the, uh, matching outfit thing. We’re the Freedom Fighters.”

She had never heard of them. Judging by the looks on her warriors’ faces, none of them had either. “We’re the Kyoshi Warriors.”

Jet’s eyes narrowed.

---

“So it’s our birthday,” Katara said conversationally. Or at least, she seemed to think it was conversational-sounding. Azula had the distinct impression that her disdain for the girl was entirely mutual.

Giving into the bait, if only because she didn’t want to let Katara think that she had somehow forgotten about the kidnapping aspect, Azula said, “No, it’s my birthday.”

“It’s also Katara’s birthday,” Sokka said, “which makes it both your birthdays.”

Azula glared at him. He wasn’t nearly as scared of her as he should be. None of them were, though they did edge away from her on the saddle any time she bared her teeth.

“Princesses don’t share with commoners,” Azula said.

That soured Katara’s expression into a shade of contempt she couldn’t or wouldn’t hide from Azula. “Are we sure we can’t throw her off of Appa?” she asked Sokka and that little winged lemur creature they insisted on calling Momo.

“Unfortunately, she’s the avatar,” Sokka said grumpily.

Momo didn't seem any happier than him about it.

Aang laughed nervously from the front of the air bison. “Please don’t attack each other back there.”

Katara huffed angrily and turned away as Sokka turned sulky.

Azula still hadn’t been told what had happened between the three of them to make them so angry with each other, but from what she could gather, Aang seemed to have done something rather unforgivable—a violation of trust of sorts, she assumed—that lead to Sokka and Katara icing him out and blaming him for the fact that they had kidnapped her. Considering the belief that her idiot brother had had about Aang being the avatar and Sokka’s comment about the real avatar, she deduced that he must have lied to them about that, and now they’d been rudely awakened with the reality that the avatar didn’t want to help them win the war by betraying her father and her country.

She wasn’t going to accuse anyone of anything just yet, though. Azula was a people person, after all. She knew that she had to play this well if she wanted to convince them to let her go back home to her father so that she could forget about this little incident and have them all executed for kidnapping the future crown princess. If Azula had to play the long con, she would. So long as she returned to her father in the end, she could survive being the avatar.

---

If there was one group Jet hated—and he couldn’t say the ashmakers—then it was the Kyoshi Warriors. The revival of them, at least. They were a shallow imitation of the original Kyoshi Warriors who had stood strong against the Empire of Fire, who had taken direct actions to protect the Three Kingdoms of Earth and the neighboring Great Earth States as well as his mother’s home, Đất Nam.

The revival of the Kyoshi Warriors were cowards as far as Jet could tell. They did nothing but stay on their island and hide now that they’d expelled the occupying forces out of Kyoshi Island.

Well, maybe they’d finally come out to play at being real warriors since they were in the Freedom Fighters’ turf. Jet didn’t know if he could forgive their cowardice, though.

Not that they needed to know that.

Jet stretched his lips into a smile. “There’s not a lot of friendly territory here. How ‘bout you guys come back to our base with us?”

Suki stared at him. The girl who had introduced herself as Mi-yeon was eyeing him suspiciously as were Bongseon and Ara, but Suki seemed to be smoothing over any doubts in her mind from the expression on her face. “… Just for a little while,” she said. “Is that okay, girls?”

The Kyoshi Warriors muttered a bit.

“I’m a really good cook,” said the oldest Freedom Fighter, Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak was not a pipsqueak in the slightest, though he was surprisingly tender-hearted for his size.

“So’s Mammoth,” Snips, one of the younger girls and one of two firebenders in the group, quipped.

Mammoth rolled her eyes. She was tall but tiny girl who loathed cooking. Everyone knew that. Well, everyone but the Kyoshi Warriors.

“And we’ve got extra beds. Kind of,” another Freedom Fighter, Stink, said. He was a scrawny, nice guy—too nice, Jet thought, but that kind of gentleness had its uses.

It wasn’t entirely true that the Freedom Fighters had extra futons. At least, they didn’t have enough to house all twelve of the Kyoshi Warriors individually, but Jet thought that didn’t matter. Stink made it sound sincere, and they could at least provide the girls with something more comfortable than their camping gear.

“I’m okay with it if you guys are,” one of the other girls, Chae-won, said. Jet thought that alongside Suki and Bongseon, she seemed to be in charge.

“Well, if Chae’s okay with it…” a smaller girl, Hana, said.

“I guess one night won’t kill us,” one of the older-looking girls, Nabi, said.

Jet’s smile grew. He gestured for the Kyoshi Warriors to follow him and the other Freedom Fighters, and they did, making their way through the forest and back to the base camp they’d been staying at lately.

The two groups began to converse tentatively. Jet could hear Snips and Princess, thing number #2 to Stink’s thing number #1, already grilling one of the girls, Ye-rin, who seemed to be seconds away from heart failure.

“Where is your hideout anyway?” Suki asked.

He hooked an arm around her waist. “Glad you asked.” With that, they rose through the air and into the trees above them quickly with Suki’s grip bruising his sides. “Loosen up. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

Suki pulled away as they came to a stop. She looked around at the tree-based hideout with her eyes blown wide and her jaw slackened.

Jet had to agree; it was rather impressive. They had done a good job of setting up camp amongst the treetops. There were paths hidden from view down below, tree huts that the team earthbenders—a girl called Brainless and a boy called Earworms—had helped to construct, and a zipline-based transportation system that he had designed himself.

“Wow. Here I thought it’d be some leaves in a pile,” a Kyoshi Warrior named Ha-yoon said.

Smellerbee scowled. “Just because we’re not fancy like you guys—”

“It’s all right,” Jet said. “They didn’t know what to expect from us.” Beneath his calm façade, his skin prickled. They really did think they were better than the Freedom Fighters even though they’d done next to nothing in the war to protect earthbender or waterbender country. 

“Welcome to our base,” The Duke said, grinning so wide his little face looked in danger of splitting.

“Thank you for having us,” Suki said.

---

Zuko had seen his father for the first time in years, and the man had hardly spared him a glance. He had been an inconvenience at best, a problem to be solved. He had been nothing at all to his father. It ached somewhere deep inside him, but it was an ache he’d had for so long that he barely registered it. It was as profound as it was distant.

He knew that he had done this to himself. He had made himself useless to his country, rendered himself banished from setting foot on his land and done so anyway. It was no wonder his father had no time or patience to spare him.

It was no wonder he so preferred Azula, loved her, chose her, protected her. It was no wonder he could forgive Azula’s treason. He had so openly declared his love for her. Zuko would have killed for his father to even acknowledge him, just for one conversation, and Azula had thrown out the declaration that he wanted her safe and at home with him like it was nothing.

“Azula is—”

There were a lot of things he could call his sister: ungrateful, distant, cruel, heartless, prodigious, infuriating. Now he could add treasonous to that list.

Iroh stared at him with heavy eyes. Zuko imagined there were tears down his cheeks, but there weren’t. It was only the appearance of an impossible pain.

“I know,” Iroh said. “I know.”

There was a part of Zuko that wanted to fall apart, to ask his uncle to console him, to let himself break. But that part could never win. Not when Zuko’s place in the world had never been so nebulous.

The only path back to his honor now was through his sister. The only way for his father to love him was to brand her the traitor she now was. His favored child, his prized daughter. It was an impossible task at best. His mission had truly become a fool’s errand.

“We should…” Zuko trailed off. He didn’t know what they should do.

Iroh set a firm hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “We should continue to track the avatar, Oigo-kun.”

Zuko could only nod. He needed to keep going, no matter how impossible it seemed to move forward. He would restore his honor at the cost of his sister. It had always been that way. Even before Azula had been the avatar, Zuko had known that to restore his honor was to slight her by reclaiming his birthright, by taking his rightful place in the line of succession.

Now that Azula was the avatar Zuko had been tasked with hunting down, it meant that he had to kill his sister or capture her. He thought that at this point, his father would prefer the latter, but Azula would never go down without a fight. It wasn’t in her nature.

It wasn’t in Zuko’s either.

She had been born lucky, and he had been lucky to be born, but that had only meant he had nothing to lose. He would fight like that from now on. He could see clearly now that he had no other choice.

“We’ve lost sight of the sky bison, so we’ll need to head back to earthbender country to get a lead on their next location. Gather the crew, Oji-sama,” he said.

“Right away, Prince Zuko.”

---

It was becoming clearer that Appa was exhausted from all the flying he had done as of late. From getting lost because Sokka was sure that Aang was taking them in wrong directions to the mess that had been the Fire Temple with the Fire Emperor bending lightning at them, which none of them had known firebenders could even do, he had earned a good night’s sleep. Aang had no problems taking Appa down on one of the islands off the peninsula of the Empire of Fire. It didn’t seem to be inhabited, at least.

Though, last time they’d thought an island seemed safe, they had almost ended up in the stomach of Unagi. Aang cracked a slight smile at the memory. It was good to know that Katara and Sokka hadn’t always hated him. All he had to do was fix Azula up to be an avatar they could work with, and they’d return to not hating him again. 

He hoped.

Though, fixing Azula was shaping up to be an impossible task. They had only flown together for less than an hour, and in that time, Azula had proven to be… patriotic, to say the least. Aang hardly had any idea where to start with undoing her years of education priming her to believe her country was just, but he thought that the Air Nomad genocide was a good jumping point; then he could correct her beliefs about the Air Nation which his people had come from as well as those she seemed to hold about the Water People being savages. At least, he thought he knew how to prove to her that his people had not been the aggressors in their own genocide.

“What are we doing?” Azula asked. “Why are we stopping here? I thought you were taking me to the Eastern Air Temple.”

“Appa needs to rest. Today’s been rough for him,” Aang said simply.

She blinked at him. “Who is Appa?”

“Uh, the giant sky bison you’ve been sitting on,” Sokka said. “Is she slow? I think she’s slow.”

Azula ignited a flame from her index and middle fingers. “Are you?”

Katara uncapped her waterskin, and Sokka grabbed his boomerang. 

But Aang didn’t move to attack or defend. He placed a gentle hand on Azula’s bicep. “Please don’t attack them. I don’t want to have to hurt you, Princess Azula. I think it’d make the rest of this field trip really awkward,” he said.

“Is that what you’re calling my kidnapping now?” Azula asked. Her eyebrow was arched. She looked rather unimpressed with him.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t apologize to her,” Katara said.

“Sorry,” he said reflexively.

Thankfully, Azula chose not to respond to that. Instead, she doused her own flame and jumped off of the saddle with great grace. The dignity with which she’d done so served only to further infuriate Sokka and Katara, though.

“We should do something about Azula’s clothing,” Sokka said after recomposing his features.

“Princess Azula,” she said, “but you’re not wrong. My armor won’t exactly blend in outside the Great Empire of Fire. You’re all quite horrible at kidnapping.”

“Ignoring how rude the princess is, I’ve got some clothing from Kyoshi Island that she could wear. She’s a bit shorter than me, but it should work,” Katara said.

“I have to wear peasant clothing as well… how lovely,” Azula said, scowling no doubt at the thought of swapping out her decadently dyed armor for Katara’s cheaply dyed brown and green clothing.

Aang sighed. He had a long journey ahead of him. He already knew that he would have to turn to his faith in the Dharma of the insiders to survive it.

---

Mai had reached the soil of the Three Kingdoms of Earth at long last. She stretched out her limbs as she exited her one-man ship and dragged her tongue across her teeth and gums. Armed with blades and arrows beneath the silk of her kimono, she stabbed into the bottom of her ship—wooden not metal as she’d requested. The risk of it being flammable mattered little when she was a nonbender without the intent to fight in it, and the benefit of being able to erase the proof she’d come this way by sinking it outweighed all costs in her mind’s eye.

It was far more important that Mai be efficient in her travels than that she be comfortable anyway.

She waited until the water had so flooded the vessel that there was no hope of it recovering. Then, she set off. She had entered the harbor of this New Sozin city late enough that no one was around to take note of a lone aristocratic girl. Woman, that’s what she was now. That was what had allowed this mission to befall her.

Mai grimaced.

The onslaught of the stench of salt and fish that had shrouded her nostrils since she had set out was not lessened here. If anything, Mai found the stink even more offensive in the harbor of Senjin-shi. It had only been a few hours, but being outside of the Great Empire of Fire was not shaping up to be what she had thought it might in childhood when she had fantasized about seeing the world with Ty Lee and Azula.

She sighed. At least it was better than sitting at home and twiddling her thumbs while Azula was gone. Not by much, though. Asking around about Zuko would be horrible; Azula owed her more than she would ever be willing to repay.

That was fine. Mai could spend the rest of their lives being angry with her for it so long as she saw Azula again. The thought almost relieved her.

---

They weren’t the only ones flying at the Eastern Air Temple. While they rode in on the sky bison, Azula glared ahead at the people who flew on airbender-esque gliders and wore the dress of the Air Nation. The Air Nation was dead. She was not so foolish as to believe that every airbender had died with it, but she knew that none would be so stupid and so brazen as to flaunt their vulgarity like this.

No, these were not airbenders. They could not be. Especially not here. Airbenders lived in hiding, in cowardice, in slums. They were too afraid to show their faces and own up to what their ancestors had done. They were even spreading lies about it to idiots like the ones who had kidnapped her. Whatever these were, Azula knew them to be dangerous, but she also knew them to be frauds.

“I thought the Air Temples were deserted now,” Katara said, “and that the Air Nomads were all in hiding or dead.”

“Yeah, uh, maybe I need a history lesson, but I swear the Empire committed genocide against them,” Sokka said.

Azula was silent.

“They did,” Aang said sourly.

Even with all the tension between them, the seabed dwellers looked pained for him.

Azula rolled her eyes. They were fools for believing his lies about her country, but she supposed they were desperate to believe the Great Empire of Fire was evil. It confirmed the narrative they’d created in their heads about the death of their mother being anything other than the consequence of her idiotic sacrifice for her daughter in a time of war. Azula couldn’t believe she’d ever felt anything akin to sympathy for either of them about that now that she’d had time to mull it over. 

Their mother’s death had been unnecessary, yes, but it had also been her fault entirely for positing that she was an enemy of the Great Empire of Fire and of Amaterasu herself. Azula couldn’t and wouldn’t feel bad for such a woman or her children.

Still, she felt compelled to break her silence. “If my country massacred yours, then what do you suppose those are, arrowhead?”

“What did you call me?” Aang asked, the white of his eyebrows raised in alarm.

“Arrowhead,” Azula said simply.

Sokka and Katara looked terribly confused.

“That’s… don’t say that,” Aang said. “I know you don’t like me, but that’s really awful, Azula.”

“Princess Azula,” she corrected him.

“Stop saying slurs, Your Majesty,” Sokka said, scowling.

“‘Your Majesty’ is what you call a ruling monarch. A prince or princess is called ‘Your Highness,’ and a Great Empire of Fire prince or princess is ‘Your Imperial Highness’ specifically,” Azula said slowly. This was really quite simple. She didn’t understand how Sokka didn’t know the difference between the terms of address.

Katara unsheathed her waterskin once more, but Momo jumped up to kick Azula before she could do anything with it.

Azula scowled. “Must you kidnap and brutalize me?”

“Hey, we didn’t do it. The lemur did, Your Imperial Highness,” Sokka said.

Katara’s lips fractured into a sort of smile.

“But, to answer your question, Princess Azula, they’re not airbenders. They don’t move like it at all, and their gliders aren’t right. See how it turns from a staff to a glider that’s supported with airbending? Theirs don’t look like this or anything that I know the Eastern Air Nomads used,” Aang said.

Azula’s eyes sharpened to a point once more. She’d known that, but to have an airbender confirm it was good. She wouldn’t have to report a colony of airbenders to her father when she returned to him. That much was comforting. Her father did have such a temper about these things, and she hated the idea of angering him even further than she surely had by being kidnapped at all.

There was even the possibility that he thought she’d gone willingly. The rumors and doubts she would have to dispel when she returned home were already weighing down on her chest.

“Let’s say hello to them then,” Azula said.

Sokka and Katara exchanged a tentative look.

---

The Eastern Air Temple, as Aang remembered it, was home to one of the most recent avatars, Yangchen. It was a vibrant monastery, standing tall and simple yet beautiful and inhabited by monks and nuns and trainees alike. It was nothing like the decayed, dull temple that he saw now. It broke his heart to see it like this.

But the thing that really wounded Aang wasn’t the damage that time had done to the Eastern Air Temple. It was the damage that people had done to it. Not that the Empire of Fire had done to it, but the damage that this colony of fraudulent airbenders had done to it.

It was almost unrecognizable to him as soon as they landed and he took in the missing statues from the courtyard. Those had not been burned down. He knew that it would have taken far too long to even attempt something like that for the firebenders to have done this. No, these statues had been destroyed after the genocide of the Air Nomads. Why would someone do that? Was his people’s blood not enough for them?

What had these people even done with the remains of the Eastern Air Nomads?

He shuddered at the mere thought. He had gone through by hand with Sokka and Katara and given the Southern Air Nomads the best he could to undo the disrespect of the earth burials they had been given. He could not be sure that anyone else, especially not people who would desecrate a holy place, would be so willing to try to give the deceased the respect and peace they deserved.

“Is that a flying bison?” a boy in a chair-glider asked in Higo. He looked about thirteen.

“Uh, yeah,” Sokka said.

“No way! I thought they were extinct! Who are you guys?” The boy had an unshakable smile on his face as he spoke. Aang wished it would wither and die.

“I’m Sokka, that’s my sister, Katara, and this is Aang,” Sokka said. He glanced back at Azula. “This is our… friend, uh—”

“Fukawa Wakaba. And I’m not their friend. Who are you?” Azula asked. Somehow, it sounded like an accusation.

Aang couldn’t help but support Azula’s line of thought. Who was this kid? Who were any of these settlers in the Eastern Air Temple? Aang needed a name to put to the faces of the people who had desecrated this temple, this culture.

“I’m Gao Teo. My dad and I are living here with our colony,” the boy said.

“Colony?” Sokka asked. He was squinting.

Teo nodded. “Yeah, we were all displaced by the Empire of Fire, so we had to flee, and we wound up here. Most of us are originally from Han Province in the Great Earth States.”

Aang felt a pang of guilt followed by a hot flash of anger. He hadn’t considered that they might not have had a choice in coming here, but did that excuse what they’d done to this holy place? Because violence had been enacted upon them, they could enact it upon the legacy of the Eastern Air Nomads? No. It couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t accept it into his heart.

“I’m sorry. The war’s been hard on everyone,” Katara said. She shot Azula a pointed look.

“Even your firebender friend?” Teo asked.

Azula rolled her eyes. “I’m not a firebender. I’m just from New Sozin. My mother was a nonbender and my father was an imperial soldier. My life was actually perfectly fine up until today, actually,” she said.

“She’s in denial about some stuff, Gao-san. Don’t worry about her,” Sokka said.

“Right,” Teo said, “well, I should introduce you to my dad if you want to stay even for a while. He’s in charge of us, so you’ve got to get his approval. I don’t know how he’ll react to someone with gold eyes. Your friend really does look like a firebender.”

Aang couldn’t believe that no one else shared his concerns, his anger. He didn’t know what to do with himself but to follow everyone else’s lead as if nothing was wrong at all. It was sickening to do. But he didn't see another way through. Not if no one could even see his anger existed, and not when Katara and Sokka still had so much of their own anger to carry.

---

They were staying for one day. Any longer than that and Suki worried that her warriors might seriously kill one of the Freedom Fighters. If she had to put money on it, she’d bet on Jet’s death at Bongseon’s hands. Bongseon was scrappy like that.

Maybe it shouldn’t have, but the possibility made Suki swell with pride and affection.

She would have to compartmentalize that feeling, though. At least, if she wanted to make it through a day with the Freedom Fighters she would.

So Suki was pleasant when they broke bread together, and she asked questions when Bugs started sharing her strange facts, and she stopped Bongseon and Ha-yoon from picking fights with Snips, Brainless, and Smellerbee, and she even said yes (against her better judgment) when Jet asked to take a walk with her along the treetops.

It was nice out, at least. The sun was setting, and its orange-pink glow was coloring the sky and the foliage. Distantly, Suki wished that Sokka were there.

“It’s kind of romantic, isn’t it?” Jet asked, his shoulder brushing hers.

She took a step away from him. “Hardly.”

He laughed. “See, that’s what I like about you, Suki.”

Her face twisted, and she shook her head.

“Relax, I’m joking. Kinda,” he said.

“Why did you want to go for a walk with me?” Suki asked.

Jet fixed her with a serious look. She got the feeling that whatever he said next was bigger than the both of them. It was certainly bigger than his seeming infatuation with her—if he even did like her like that. “How much have you guys seen since you left Kyoshi Island?”

Suki’s felt her own face grow grim. “We caught the tail end for Omashu’s fall, but we’ve mostly stuck to New Azulon and Gaya so far. It didn’t… it didn’t look good.”

“No, it really doesn’t, and it’s getting worse every day,” he said.

Her nails bit into her palms. “We should have left sooner.”

Jet’s eyes hardened. He came to a stop. “Yeah. Maybe. But you’re here now. What would your Kyoshi Warriors say about joining us for something?”

“What kind of something?” It spilled out of her before she could stop it. 

She wanted to be the kind of girl who could dive into things headfirst, who could put the state of the world before anything else, who could be as brave as Avatar Kyoshi herself. But she wasn’t there yet. Suki had been balanced on the thin line between too much and not enough her whole life. It was getting harder and harder with each passing day to not fall either way. 

Anyway, she had to think about the safety and well-being of the Kyoshi Warriors, and she didn’t know that she trusted Jet at all.

“For a week now, they’ve been occupying one of the city-states of Gaya, Byeokjin. We want to drive them out before they can set up a proper base.”

There was only one possible answer Suki could give.

---

Teo’s father introduced himself as Gao Bingwen. He was a tall man with a red circle around one eye and a balding head but a full beard. He was also a complete liar.

Though her kidnappers didn’t know it yet, Azula knew that her father had a weapons manufacturer located at the Eastern Air Temple. She had been counting on that when she acquiesced to be brought here. And this man was some kind of mechanist according to his son. It had to be him designing and creating weapons for her great country from this base of operation. Why he had brought a colony with him to do so and why that colony felt the need to flaunt airbender-esque gliders, Azula did not know. But she was certain now that these fools were not dangerous in the way she had initially believed them to be.

This colony was dangerous to Azula in an entirely different way now.

She had allowed her captors to dress her in a cheap hanbok, had removed her golden diadem from her topknot, and had yet to even attempt to escape them. No matter how Azula split her story, she looked like nothing more than a traitor to the Dragon Throne. If Great Empire of Fire soldiers were to arrive to collect their blueprints and any machinery that was built onsite, they would no doubt assume Azula had committed high treason. Even if she fought alongside them against her captors, she would look impossibly bad in the soldiers’ eyes for allowing herself to be demeaned so greatly.

She couldn’t allow such a notion to even take root in her people’s minds.

Direct contact with Great Empire of Fire citizens would be impossible at the Eastern Air Temple after all, but that didn’t mean that Azula couldn’t find another way to contact her father, to assure him of her unwavering loyalty and intent to return home as soon as the opportunity to do so arose.

Though it vexed her to do so greatly, she bowed respectfully when Sokka introduced her to Gao under the false name she’d given to Teo.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Azula said.

“What a polite little lady you are, Fukawa-chan,” Gao chuckled.

Azula smiled with all her teeth. It was almost a warning that she had them, but she warmed her eyes enough to impart something kinder into the act as well.

“I take it you were worried I wouldn’t allow someone of firebender descent to reside in our colony for even a short while?” he asked.

“We totally understand if you won’t,” Sokka said. “Fukawa’s eyes freaked us out at first too.”

“Yes… the gold eyes are a trait I’ve only seen in members of the Imperial House,” Gao said.

Azula bowed her head once more. “My grandmother was born to a concubine of the Fire Emperor. However, her mother was not favored by him, and she showed no bending prowess, and so they were awarded no prestigious place in the Imperial Court.” It was a plausible enough lie. The Fire Emperor traditionally took many concubines, and while her aunts’ mother had been favored and thus lived lavishly, many were not.

Gao stared at Azula for a long moment.

She wondered if perhaps part of him did not believe her, recognized her from a portrait of the Imperial House he had seen. She knew that such an item was mandated in the homes of those who were conquered by her country, but Teo had said that this colony had fled the conquering of Han Province which had occurred mere months after her father’s ascension to the Dragon Throne. If they’d been living here ever since, even with their weapon manufacturing, Gao had no reason to have ever laid eyes on so much as a portrait of Azula. Or her pathetic mother.

“I see no reason then that your friends shouldn’t be allowed to rest here. You’re clearly no harm to us if you’re traveling with them,” Gao said at last.

The idiots sighed in relief. Azula only smiled. If she had it her way, they wouldn’t be resting here for very long. Suffice to say, she would have it her way.

---

“I’m sorry, you guys, but I had to say yes to him. There’s no way I can live with myself if I don’t at least try. I understand if you don’t want to join me—I should have consulted you all first. But I just… I can’t sit and watch while the Empire kills people,” Suki said.

The Kyoshi Warriors blinked.

“Is that all?” Ara asked.

Suki floundered, her mouth opening and closing hopelessly. “I—um—yes?”

“I mean, that’s literally why we all joined the Kyoshi Warriors, isn’t it?” Kyuri asked

Chae-won shook her head. “Honestly, Sook, did you think we would abandon you like cowards?”

“Seriously,” Bongseon said with a snort. “We may not like Jet and the Freedom Fighters, but we hate the Empire way more. It’s not even a competition.”

“So… you’re all… with me on this?” Suki asked.

“Always! You’re, like, the best head Kyoshi Warrior a girl could ask for! We’d follow you to the end of the earth if it meant kicking ashmaker butt,” Mi-yeon said.

And just like that, it was settled. The Kyoshi Warriors would be aligning themselves with the Freedom Fighters.

---

“It’s kind of weird that they speak Higo here, isn’t it?” Sokka asked.

Katara didn’t share his concerns. “More like lucky. I would’ve hated having to rely on Aang to talk to them if they spoke Tǔ Yán,” she said.

“You don’t find it at all odd?” he asked. “None of them actually lived under colonization, but they all speak Higo, and that’s not worrying to you?”

“You’re so paranoid. Are you seriously suggesting they’re some kind of… what, spies for the Empire of Fire? Some of them are earthbenders. They’re refugees even. Be serious,” she said.

Sokka’s shoulders slumped in annoyance. He mumbled under his breath, mocking Katara’s cadence. He wasn’t paranoid. If anything, Katara was way too relaxed. They had just kidnapped the princess of a bloodthirsty, genocidal country, and they weren’t that far off of said country’s mainland. It was perfectly reasonable for him to be concerned about the first people they came into contact with speaking Higo.

Katara gave him a light shove. “Relax, Sokka. Not everyone is out to get us. Anh wasn’t. The Kyoshi Warriors weren’t.”

“When we die, I’m blaming you,” he said.

“Who’s dying?” Teo asked. Sokka wasn’t sure when he’d realized they were lagging behind his tour of the Air Temple.

“Nobody. My brother just struggles to accept when good things are happening,” Katara said.

At that, Aang shrunk.

Sokka shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t entirely Aang’s fault that he couldn’t believe this wasn’t too good to be true. He’d had a lot of things that were too good to be true over the last few months of traveling, and even more in the years leading up to meeting Aang. Still, he couldn’t deny the role Aang played in the doubt that crept in now.

“If something seems too good to be true, it usually is,” Azula said. Her eyes glinted.

“See, Fukawa gets it,” Sokka said. He hated having to side with the princess in this, but he’d take what he could get. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

Katara rolled her eyes at them.

Aang tugged at the collar of his jeogori. “Are the prayer wheels still around?” he asked Teo. “I have something I need to do after this tour…”

Teo lit up. Sokka didn’t trust the kid as far as he could throw him.

---

They were moving in on Earworms’ signal. He was pressed low to the ground in the bushes, watching the soldiers move in and out of their camp. The Kyoshi Warriors and the rest of the Freedom Fighters were in position, hiding some distance away behind tree trunks and in treetops. They were farther than Jet would have liked to be from the soldiers, but they couldn’t get too close with any particular stealth with their numbers.

The plan of attack was fairly simple. They were trying for the element of surprise, an ambush of sorts. They would overwhelm the soldiers at the camp, destroy their supplies, and scare them shitless.

If all went well, the soldiers should leave the inhabitants of Byeokjin alone.

Jet hoped it all went well. He was counting more on the Kyoshi Warriors than he would have liked to, but they had driven ashmaker scum out of their home. Whatever they’d done, it had terrified those men. He needed them to do it again.

Earworms gave the signal.

Just like that, Jet charged in. He knew the others were behind him, armed and dangerous as ever.

It didn’t take long for things to get bloody. Jet was more than good with his tigerheads, and his Freedom Fighters may be young, but they were skilled fighters too.

He slashed at a soldier to get him to back off of his attack on Tigress, and in turn, she delivered a swift series of kicks and jabs at the man’s stomach, disabling him entirely. He didn’t really understand how she did that kind of thing, but he wasn’t going to question it when the soldier was down for the count.

He also wasn’t going to let the guy hurt anyone else. Jet tore the soldier’s throat out with his tigerheads.

Tigress grinned at him. “Nice one, Jet.”

“You too,” he said.

A fireball shot between them from their side of the battlefield, scorching a nonbender soldier they hadn’t noticed charging them. It always gave Jet the faintest of heart attacks to see one of his team’s token firebenders’ flames. Still, he was grateful.

“Thanks, Quickfire,” he said with Tigress.

Quickfire nodded. He was as quiet as ever.

“A little help!” Yihwa called out. She was struggling to fend off three soldiers at once. It was entirely cruel and entirely firebender of them to pull something like that; three-on-one when the one was just a kid.

Jet ran to help her at the same time that Suki did. He disarmed the soldier on the right at the same time that Suki disarmed and skewered the one on the left, giving Yihwa the opening to slice the middle soldier's throat with the deceptively sharp edge of her fan.

“Thanks,” Yihwa said breathlessly.

“Always,” Suki said.

Jet gave a short nod to them both. “I’ve got your back; you’ve got mine.”

---

The prayer wheels were not what Sokka had expected from what he had heard Teo and Aang say of them. The slabs of bronze shaped into cylinders engraved with scripture that he couldn’t read lined the decaying wall that Aang knelt before. He felt out of place and invasive as he watched Aang roll his hand over the wheels, but someone had to keep an eye on the kid. He was acting funny again.

“So, uh, what are you doing again?” Sokka asked.

“I’m purifying my karma for lying to you and Katara. I know neither of you have forgiven me, but I have to turn the wheel of Dharma. The only thing I can do from here is keep going,” Aang said.

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t forgiven Aang; he didn’t know how to. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t. Before he had believed Aang to be the avatar, he had believed him to be nothing more than a lost kid.  That much was still true.

His throat bobbed. 

Aang was unmoving and unspeaking as he prayed.

Sokka didn’t know much about the religion of the Southern Air Nomads, the Dharma of the insiders as Aang called it, but he knew that this place was sacred. He knew that what Aang was doing was holy. Sokka had lost his religion to the war, but he understood what it meant to need something holy.

He needed the avatar, after all. And Aang had delivered on his promise to bring her to them.

If only Azula wasn’t such a disaster. If only forgiveness was easy. If only the war was winnable.

Sokka inhaled slowly, feeling the balmy air fill his lungs, inflate them with the very essence of life itself. He wanted to know if this was what it was to airbend. He did not know how to ask such a question.

“Okay. I’m done. I’m sorry it took so long,” Aang said. The sound made Sokka jump ever so slightly. He had gotten used to nothing to fill the silence but their breath.

“No, you’re good,” Sokka said awkwardly.

Aang offered a split-lip smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just glad this part of the temple is intact,” he said.

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that. The Eastern Air Temple must look completely different from what Aang had known before the ice. Before the war. Sokka thought that it must hurt to see it so different. His heart stung at the thought. For all Aang’s faults, he didn’t want the kid to hurt. Not like this.

Aang had been his friend once, could be his friend again if the world didn’t work against them.

“Hey, Sokka?”

“Yeah, Aang?”

“What do you think they did with the corpses?”

Sokka felt like he’d been shot through the heart with a bolt of lightning. “I—I don’t know. I didn’t think about that,” he admitted.

“I hope they didn’t bury them in the ground,” Aang said. There were tears in his eyes. Sokka wanted to make them retreat, but he didn’t know how. “I just… I hope their spirits are free now.”

“Me too.”

---

Azula had come to this cliffside to be as alone as she could with the watchful eyes of her captors on her. Aang had not understood that. “You know, Princess Azula, the Air Nomads are nonviolent. We don’t believe that things like hatred or violence are good for your mind or spirit,” he said.

“Explain the Air Nation military then,” she said with a roll of her eyes. This was basic historical knowledge. She couldn’t believe he had the audacity to try to lie to her about it.

He frowned. “The Air Nation and the Air Nomads aren’t the same thing. I mean, we came from the Air Nation originally, but we’re monks and nuns who traveled the world. One of our primary virtues is not to injure. None of the airbending forms you have to learn to become a Master Airbender in any of the Air Nomad cultures are offensive.”

“You keep speaking in the present tense,” she said. It was cruel, and she knew it.

He flinched for it. “That’s true. But as long as I’m alive, the Air Nomads are alive too,” he said slowly.

“I see,” she said. “Then how do you feel about what they’ve done to this temple? It’s rather… crude, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said. His voice sounded pained. Like speech was difficult for him in that moment.

Azula said nothing in response. It was the most dignity she was willing to give him.

“I was taught that all life was sacred,” he said. “Even that of people who would tear down something holy.”

“How noble. I was raised with both the way of the spirits and the Zen school. I don’t need a refresher on religion,” she said.

“Sorry. I just… your life is sacred, and so are theirs, and so is your father’s, and so is mine, and so are Katara and Sokka’s. Even when we hurt each other,” he said.

“You would see me kill my father, though. You would ask me to oppose my country in their holy war,” she said.

He grit his teeth. “There’s nothing holy about it.”

She hummed.

“I’m serious, Azula—”

“You should really call me Fukawa here. Anyone could overhear.”

Aang relented. “All right, Fukawa-san. We should head back… Katara and Sokka will be wondering where we are. Gao-kun too.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to keep Gao-kun waiting,” she echoed. She hoped he heard how pointed her voice was, hoped he could see the problems that were right before him. 

He only looked pinched as he escorted her back to the temple.

---

Maybe a leopard caribou could change its spots after all.

It was true that the Kyoshi Warriors had been cowards for the bulk of their revival thus far, but it was also true that they had been vital to the Freedom Fighters succeeding in driving the occupying forces out of Byeokjin, at least for the time being. Jet hoped that they had truly scared the soldiers out of returning with the bloodied state they’d left the sole survivor in, but he couldn’t be sure.

There were no guarantees in war. That was something he’d learned over time. Taking care of these kids had taught him that more than any battle he had fought with or without them at his side.

But the Kyoshi Warriors had helped give them hope. The Freedom Fighters and the people of Byeokjin alike. They weren’t in this war alone anymore. There were others in earthbender and waterbender country, helping to fight the good fight. Maybe Jet didn’t know how to forgive them for how absent they’d been in the war up til this point, but he was starting to believe he could count on them to be there going forward.

This was what he thought as they made the trip back from Byeokjin to the Freedom Fighters’ base.

Not that he’d tell any of them that. Especially not Chae-won. He got the feeling that she would never let him hear the end of it if he let slip that the Kyoshi Warriors might be more reliable than he initially had thought.

---

There was something awful on the horizon. Sokka could sense it even if he couldn’t see it yet. He didn’t want to see it. He wanted to protect them from it before it could even register as a dot over the ocean. To do that, he had to identify it first.

He had pawned Aang off to Katara and taken responsibility over Azula to spend some time with Gao. Azula was risky to have around Gao all things considered, but he thought she was smart and survival-oriented enough to stay in line around the head of this so-called colony. Certainly, he thought she’d play along to his intel-gathering session better than Aang would have. It wasn’t that he preferred Azula by any means,—he hated the girl—but that she struck Sokka as a better liar than Aang.

As much as Aang had lied to them, in hindsight, Sokka saw that he hadn’t done so with much, if any, grace. They had just so badly wanted to believe him that they had overlooked the flaws in his lie.

Azula, on the other hand, looked sneaky to Sokka. She hadn’t done much more than be something of an egotistical, racist ashmaker, but there was something about her eyes that Sokka knew better than to overlook. Then again, maybe if he could see how dishonest she must be just from looking at her, taking her had been the wrong approach.

It was too late to change his mind, though. Sokka had already committed to this when he’d said hello to Gao.

“It’s really cool that you designed all the technology you guys use here. Did you have any help or…?” Sokka asked. He wasn’t sure if he was implying the Empire of Fire had helped Gao out somehow, but he wasn’t sure he could rule the idea out either.

Gao beamed. “Ohoh, well, I wouldn’t say I had no help, but if you’re asking if I drew up the blueprints myself, then the answer is yes! I’m something of a mechanist!”

“And you only invent things that will improve your quality of life?” Azula asked with what Sokka knew to be faux interest. She had guessed what he was doing by now, but she had done little to help him. She had also done nothing to hinder him, which he supposed counted for something towards the common decency Azula largely seemed to lack. It worsened his suspicions instead of soothing them.

“I certainly try to stick to things that will improve our lives here at the colony, but I can’t say that every invention works as planned. Sometimes, you draw a snake but add feet,” Gao said.

“Or you climb trees to catch a fish,” Azula said. Her face was neutral when she said it, but there was something cold to her eyes.

“Exactly, Fukawa-chan,” Gao said. To Sokka’s relief, he hadn’t seemed to catch Azula’s bitterness.

“So, why the Eastern Air Temple?” he asked.

There was a flash of something unreadable on Gao’s face. Then, he said, “It just so happened that we fled eastward from Han Province. We tried to take refuge in the Three Kingdoms of Earth at first, but the Empire of Fire was everywhere. Eventually, they chased us to the edge of the country, and we had no choice but to take to the sea. It was pure luck that we found this temple and I was able to get us in.”

“And the Empire of Fire hasn’t bothered you guys? Like at all? Even though they’re so close?” Sokka asked.

Gao smiled once more, but something about it came out all wrong. “What can I say? We’ve been lucky. Maybe Hòutǔshén has smiled upon us.”

Sokka smiled back. It strained his mouth greatly.

Azula had other plans. “Or maybe it was Amaterasu. After all, you’re so lucky to have secured such a gratuitous deal with the Great Empire of Fire. They allow you to live here, even trade you food, and all you have to do is output war machinery for them.”

“Fukawa-chan, I have to ask why you would accuse me of such treachery. What on earth would compel me to work with firebenders? And why do you refer to them as great?” Gao asked. But his voice was thin, and it betrayed him.

“Yeah, Fukawa, what the hell?” Sokka asked. They weren’t ready to make those kinds of accusations. He thought she was smarter than that.

Azula glowered at them both. “Drop the act, peasant. He speaks Higo fluently. He’s located conveniently right by the Great Empire of Fire but claims to have never been threatened by them. He’s an inventor. He didn’t even bother hiding the blueprints for their revised war balloon that clearly say he’s updating them to be used by nonbenders as well,” she said.

Sokka glanced at the blueprints that Azula had pointed out. He’d noticed the sketches, but there was no Empire of Fire insignia that he had spotted on them. There was, however, text that he could not read. He cursed himself inwardly. He had picked Higo up from the soldiers who had frequented his home throughout the years, but he had never had learned to read the language.

“You can read?” Gao asked. “But—but there’s chiji in that… you’re just a girl from New Sozin. Only the princess could’ve…”

“I lied,” Azula said flippantly. “So did you.”

“We don’t have time for this! We’ve got to get Katara and Aang out of here!” Sokka said.

---

Aang looked split open at the news Sokka and Azula had broken to them; Katara ached at the sight of him. “You… you desecrated an Air Temple, you moved the Air Nomads’ corpses to—to I don’t even know where, you wore their clothes, stole their gliders, and the whole time, you were working with the people who murdered them?” he asked. His voice was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

She hadn’t realized, hadn’t pieced together what had been wrong about all of this. She was an idiot. She hadn’t seen Gao and his colony for what they were at all. She hadn’t seen how Aang was hurting too.

“I’m sorry,” Gao said. “I just—it was the only way we could stay here—”

“You never should have stayed here! This was a holy place! And you dishonored it beyond belief!” Aang said.

“You did,” Azula said quietly. It was the first thing she’d said since they met that didn’t make Katara want to strangle her. “You took a temple, and you… disgraced it. You should be ashamed of yourself. You have no honor at all.” Her lips curled with disgust. Katara could do nothing but agree.

“Even the Fire Emperor’s daughter knows you’re an unforgivable bastard!” Sokka said.

“How can I—can I do anything to make this right?” Gao asked.

Katara wrapped a protective arm around Aang’s shoulders. “You’ve done enough.”

“No… it’s okay, Katara. I—I don’t know if you can ever make it right, Gao, but you can make it better if you just… stop helping them… you can’t return this temple to how it was before… but you can leave,” Aang said.

Gao looked deeply sorrowful.

Katara thought that he wasn’t ashamed enough. She wanted to tell him so, but she didn’t want to speak over Aang. She didn’t want to make it worse.

“That’s not all,” Azula said. “You need to make them think you’ve been killed. Otherwise, they’ll keep looking for you, seeking out your aid.”

“… She’s right,” Aang said. He sounded tired. He sounded lost.

Katara pulled him closer to her. She wanted to pull the pain out of him by a thread. She wanted to undo the harm that the Empire of Fire had caused. She wanted them all to just be children.

She couldn’t have any of that. None of them could.

“How do we do that?” Sokka asked, soft but firm.

---

Mai sighed. She was getting sick of talking to people to try and figure out what they knew of Zuko and Prince Iroh. Talking to people had never been her forte; not out of a lack of social skill, but out of a lack of desire to speak. Talking to people had always been more Ty Lee’s speed. Mai would even have taken Azula herself at that moment. For all the small talk the princess could not make, she knew how to manipulate someone into giving her the intel she needed.

A jolt shot through Mai. She shouldn’t be thinking of Azula like that. And she certainly shouldn’t be thinking of Ty Lee at all. There was a mission at hand that Fire Emperor Ozai himself had given her. She could not fail. If she did, she could never come back to Heian-kyō, let alone join her family in New Azula.

Mai had lived a life of shame and dishonor for years. She had been betrothed to Zuko, the inferior heir and then the traitorous disowned. She had been a disappointment and even a burden to her parents for years. She was too sullen, too blank, too numb—there was nothing Mai could do right in their eyes. Soon, she would be replaced with a more suitable heir to the Nakatomi name. What was one last failure?

Except, it wasn’t a matter of honor. Not to Mai. 

It was a matter of Azula.

Mai had bled for Azula more times than she cared to count. She would bleed again. With her nails biting her palms, Mai approached a man with a cart full of singed cabbages. “Excuse me, sir. I hate to bother you, but I’m looking for a guy with a burn scar over his eye. He’s about this tall. Really stupid, and he always looks angry.”

“As a matter of fact, there was an awful boy just like that just yesterday.”

---

Zuko sneezed.

“Someone must be talking about you,” Iroh said. He was smiling.

Zuko sneezed again. Irate, he glowered. “Badly. It must be Azula.”

Iroh chuckled. Privately, he hoped that Zuko was right. Better Azula than Ozai, after all. He would not voice such a thought to his nephew, though. “Perhaps it’s a good sign that you are on her mind, Prince Zuko. It means she knows you pose a threat to her.”

Zuko stood a little straighter at the suggestion. “It’s about time she recognized that.” He had spent much of his life chasing after his father’s approval, that was true, but he had also spent many years chasing after his sister’s recognition. Iroh knew that, and his heart ached for it. 

Azula’s recognition was every bit as out of reach as Ozai’s approval for someone like Zuko. It was cruel, but the girl took far too much after her father for any other truth to be had.

“I’ll say!” Iroh said with a forced cheerfulness. “Princess Azula has always been too aware of her talents for her own good. It speaks highly of your progress that she would be made aware of yours at long last.” It was a lie. Zuko’s progress had not been all that good throughout his exile, and his natural talent for the art of firebending was only about average if Iroh was to be honest. Certainly, he would never register in his prodigious sister’s mind as talented.

Iroh knew this all too well. It was best that Zuko be shielded from it, though. He was not ready for that reality. Not yet.

---

This was the plan: they were to destroy the remaining blueprints and ransack the Eastern Air Temple to give the appearance that Gao’s colony had been chased out—potentially even killed. It wasn’t ideal by any means, but they didn’t have very many choices at the moment. So Katara put aside her grievances, and she tried to ignore the guilt every time she saw Aang’s wet eyes.

This was what they had to do. It made sense. Aang had agreed to it. It wasn’t okay, but it was what they were doing. 

At the very least, Azula had agreed upon not destroying any of the remaining sacred aspects of the temple. They were only targeting the renovations that Gao had made. It gave Katara the slightest degree of comfort about it all.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked Sokka as she bashed a wooden door in with his club. It certainly looked more like a fight had broken out now.

Sokka grunted as he battered some nearby machinery with his boomerang. “Not really. You?”

“Not really,” Katara agreed, “but we should cover more ground. I’ll go down the left corridor.”

“Got it. I’ll go right,” He said.

She grabbed his wrist. “Wait, if you see Aang that way… tell him I’m sorry.”

His face softened. “Yeah, I will.”

Katara nodded firmly, and she walked off. Whether she liked it or not, she had a job to do.

---

When Katara stumbled upon Azula, she couldn’t tell at first what the avatar was doing. Then she saw the text she could not read seared into a stone. She should have known better than to trust Azula for even a moment. Katara lunged at the other girl, catching her around the waist and tackling her to the floor with the element of surprise.

Azula flexed her wrists. She twisted her legs around Katara and flipped them over in a fluid motion.

From beneath Azula, Katara swore in Imiqtitut. “Let me up!” she said.

“You attacked me,” Azula said.

“You’re a traitor!” Katara said.

Azula laughed, short and derisive. Her teeth were bared. “No, Katara, I’m not a traitor. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Doing what!? Leaving some kind of code for the enemy? How is that not being a traitor?” Katara asked. She could feel herself spitting with the venom of her words.

Azula only glared more at her for it. “I am the enemy, you stupid little girl.”

The air left Katara’s lungs. She felt hopelessly dumb in that moment. Of course. Azula was the Empire of Fire. She had grown up there, been raised to believe their innocence in the war, been groomed to inherit the throne. They had had to kidnap her for her to even be here. She had not been shy about any of that.

So why had Katara let herself believe for even a moment that Azula could have been on their side?

“You’re the avatar,” Katara said. It sounded broken in her mouth.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Azula said, getting up off of Katara. “None of this means anything.”

Katara rolled over and pushed herself up off the ground. On shaky limbs, she made a dash for the stone.

“What are you doing?” Azula demanded.

But Katara wasn’t listening to her. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her to the nearby window, and she threw the stone off it and hoped it landed somewhere the Empire of Fire would never find it. The ocean, maybe. “When I tell Aang and my brother—”

“What will they do? Kidnap me? Hold me hostage against my will? Force me to commit high treason?” Azula asked.

“We just want you to stop the war, Azula,” Katara said.

“Princess Azula.”

Katara should have known better than to get her hopes up for even a second.

---

“You’re sure we didn’t have a moment?” Jet asked.

Suki huffed. “Absolute not.”

“Jet and Suki, sitting in a tree—” a boy called Canines began to sing.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Princess, Snips, Smellerbee, Bugs, and, much to Suki’s horror, Mi-yeon joined him.

Ara snickered, but Hana gave Mi-yeon a light shove.

“Whatever you say, Sook,” Jet said, his lips split into a smile. He almost looked charming like that, but Suki was unamused.

Chae-won drew her fan with a flick of her wrist. “Only Bong and I get to call her Sook,” she said.

“Oh, that’s how it is then, huh?” Jet asked.

“Yeah,” Bongseon said. “Back off, pretty boy.”

His grin grew. “You think I’m pretty?”

Bongseon rolled her eyes, and Suki couldn’t help but roll hers too. While Jet had earned maybe a bit of respect from them, he was still utterly intolerable. Suki couldn’t wait to never see him or the other Freedom Fighters again.

“We should get going,” she said.

“Yeah, we’ve got a war to win,” Chae-won said.

Jet’s face grew serious. “Yeah. Us too.” He nodded. “Good luck then.”

“You too.” She meant it. She really did. They all needed as much luck as they could possibly get if they were going to defeat the Empire of Fire. But they needed more than luck. They needed something to believe in. She didn’t know if they would believe her that the avatar was back, though. And so she kept her mouth shut as she walked off.

Maybe that was a mistake. She didn’t know yet.

---

Aang’s heart was an open wound. It was still bleeding; it might never clot, not fully. But Gao and his son and their colony were listening to him. They were leaving. They were sorry. It helped ease some of the pain, and it gave him faith that Azula was a problem he could solve.

At least, it did until they were boarding Appa, readying to fly off to their next destination, Gaya. Then Katara chose to break their somber silence with the worst sentence Aang had heard in the last hour: “While the rest of us were working on her plan, Princess Azula was trying to leave a message for her father.”

“What!?” Aang yelped.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Sokka said.

Katara held her hand out. “I stopped her. But she tried.”

Azula shrugged indifferently even as Momo stomped his little feet on her shoulder. “I don’t know what any of you expected. You kidnapped me, after all.”

Aang shrank. They had kidnapped her, technically. Even if they’d been well-intentioned. He couldn’t help but wonder what Gyatso or the other monks would have said about it. He thought it was more or less fine considering the circumstances, but maybe he was wrong.

Still… if he could just change Azula’s heart, maybe it would be okay.

“That’s it then, isn’t it, Azula?” he asked.

“What’s it?” Sokka asked. “She’s evil, and we’re all doomed because of it, we knew that.”

“How many times must I tell you to call me Princess Azula?” Azula was scowling now.

“Sorry! But you see it, right? I have to be your airbending master now. That's how I can make amends with the world for failing to save Nyima and causing this war,” Aang said.

She thought he was an idiot. “And if I use that knowledge against you to help the Great Empire of Fire win the war?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said. “After all, you were my friend once. What’s to stop you from being my friend again?”

“Your naïveté makes a fool of you,” Azula said. Her voice was stretched thin. She thought he was an idiot. He could work with that.

Sokka and Katara looked dubious at best. “Are you feeling okay, Aang?” Katara asked.

“Yeah, seriously. I hate agreeing with her, but Princess over here is right,” Sokka said.

“Maybe, but, for what it’s worth, I believe in you, Princess Azula. Even if you don’t want me to. Even if I shouldn’t. Anyway, who else are you gonna learn airbending from? I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m your only option…” There was a definite sadness to him now, but he wasn’t backing down.

Even he knew that Azula would regret this. But she still said, “Fine.”

“That’s awesome! You know, this is gonna be great. I mean, saving you is saving the world,” Aang said. His lips were split into a toothy smile as he stretched out in relief.

“You’re not saving me. I don’t need saving. You’re kidnapping me,” Azula said. It was another accusation that he had to shrug off. He couldn’t let it weigh him down. The only way out was to see it through.

Aang widened his eyes earnestly at her. “Saving, kidnapping, it’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” It had to be. He had to be doing the right thing. He had to be able to fix this.

Notes:

up next: azula plays catch up with the gaang, love is apparently in the air, and parents are [awful] people, too

translation + cultural notes:
- kshanti is the sanskrit word for patience, forbearance, and forgiveness. it is one of the factors of several schools of buddhism
- the concept of saving one life to save the world actually comes from jewish teachings, which was the inspiration for it here, so i wanted to give that a shout-out here

Chapter 9: War Efforts (Book One: Air)

Notes:

it's been a while, but i'm back! sorry to have a dip in activity; i was busy and hyperfixated on other stuff. but azula is always grabbing me by the throat, so we're here again.

Azula was asleep. Or she was pretending to be. It was hard to know what with how evenly she always breathed, like a steadfast taiko. It didn’t matter that much, though. Aang had to clear his heart. There was nothing he could do but talk to Katara and Sokka, whether Azula was eavesdropping or not. Not that he should be thinking of her negatively. She had a long way to go, but thinking poorly of her wouldn’t help that journey.

Anyway, this wasn’t about her.

He cleared his throat.

“Hey,” Sokka said. He was softer than he maybe should have been, but maybe he was ready for something kinder than what they were currently too.

Katara didn’t say anything. She just fixed Aang with a look that he didn’t know how to interpret. Her eyes were soft and pliable. He thought that they might be familiar like from before they’d found out he was lying to them. He didn’t dare assume, though.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. I know you aren’t ready to forgive me yet, but I just… I don’t know. Can we try at least? To be okay again?”

Katara’s face melted.

Sokka exhaled deeply.

“I don’t know that we can be… the same as it was before,” Katara said slowly.

“I’m willing to try to move past it. I think… I think we’re all hurt. And maybe I don’t fully understand why you did it, but I don’t think you do either,” Sokka said.

Aang let out a shaky breath.

“It’s not okay, Aang, but you still mean something to me. To both of us! And I want to forgive you. Azula isn’t… She’s not what we wanted; I wish it was you, but maybe if we all work together, we can fix this,” Katara said.

“Okay,” Aang said.

“Okay,” Katara said.

“Okay.” There was a small smile fracturing Sokka’s mouth. It was like the slightest bit of hope had found them again, Azula be damned.

---

It had been a mistake for Shyu to be made a Fire Sage just because he was the firstborn. He should never have been in line to inherit Meiji’s position. Ukano was the better brother in the end. He was the better son. The better Nakatomi. They all saw that now. It was satisfying on some level to know that everyone had all seen the error of their ways, but Michi’s only regret was that it had come at the cost of Shyu committing high treason.

Her country deserved better than that. What was done was done, though. Michi would move forward as they all would once Fire Emperor Ozai served Shyu the justice he deserved in their Agni Kai. She hoped His Heavenly Sovereign did worse than disfigure Shyu; she hoped that her brother-in-law saw cremation at the hands of the Fire Emperor. He should be reduced to little more than scum on any of their shoes for dishonoring himself everything the Nakatomi clan stood for so horribly.

She wasn’t alone in thinking that. Not in the family she had married into and not in their country.

Meiji’s face was hard and his body was tense as he walked them through the harbor. There could be no one more disappointed in Shyu than his own father. 

Michi couldn’t imagine what she would feel if it were her firstborn who had betrayed their country in the name of the avatar. She shuddered at the thought and disguised the motion as a symptom of the breeze washing over them from the sea.

Ukano offered her no comfort. They had never had a close marriage, physically or emotionally. It had always been political for them, and that didn’t bother Michi in the slightest.

“Obviously, your brother has… let us all down greatly. I trust you not to do the same, Ukano,” Meiji said. “You have always been so loyal to our family and this great nation. You are my legacy, not him. You always should have been.”

Ukano lit up. He had been waiting a lifetime to hear those words from his father’s lips; Michi knew this well. She had berated him time and time again over his unwillingness to push for his father’s favor when he wanted it so badly. “Thank you, Chichi-ue. I will not disappoint you.”

“I see that now,” Meiji said. “And here’s to my grandson.” He rested a hand over Michi’s pregnant belly, his face melting into the first smile Michi had seen on him since word of Shyu’s crime had broken.

“We don’t know that it’ll be a boy yet,” she said, not wanting to get his hopes up. It had been so difficult to secure a pregnancy after the complications she’d had when Mai had been born. She would take a girl if she must, but they were all hoping for a son to continue their bloodline in the way Mai could not. Still, she did not want false hope.

Meiji shook his head softly. “I can sense him. Now, be sure to take good care of yourselves and New Azula. I’m sure Mai will be joining you shortly,” he said.

It was the first anyone had dared to mention Mai since she’d left without so much as a goodbye. Fire Emperor Ozai had said next to nothing of the reason behind her departure, and Michi and Ukano would not question him. She would not dare linger on what it could be that her daughter was doing on the Fire Emperor’s orders. It was an honor that he had tasked Mai with anything the same way it was an honor that he had given Ukano governorship over New Azula. Screwing any of that up by asking questions was not an option.

“Yes, I’m sure she will. She’ll love it, no doubt,” Michi said. Her smile was pinching her cheeks as she lied through her teeth. Mai was the most reluctant woman she’d ever met; it was hard to believe such a sullen child had been birthed by her. Michi knew that her daughter would find anything to hate about New Azula that she could, most of all the gaps it forced between her and Princess Azula.

Michi’s smile flickered at the thought.

“I shouldn’t keep you too long. You have a colony to tame,” Meiji said.

“Yes, I do,” Ukano said. His chest puffed out in ill-placed pride as if his wife would not be the one to call the shots behind closed doors. She let him have it, though. It was good to keep him strong in public.

---

The Gaya confederacy was ugly, and Azula hated it. Or maybe it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t the Great Empire of Fire either. To Azula, that was the same thing. She hated traveling by sky bison through it. They’d made a pit stop in a run-down city-state that was known primarily for its rice farming so that her captors—companions, they insisted on calling themselves—could make a much needed visit to a public bathhouse. It had been four days since the Eastern Air Temple fiasco, and this was their first time accessing any kind of bath in that time.

They stank. Azula did too. It was humiliating, the way people curled their noses up at her and avoided her when she got too close. She was a princess, soon-to-be heir apparent, not some common vagrant.

Worse yet, nowhere in Gaya confederacy took the currency of the Great Empire of Fire. They bartered and traded, and so Azula was forced to partake in her captor’s haggling. 

She was tired, dirty, and angry. It didn’t matter how much time she spent trying to soak off the dirt and grime from her skin and hair. She didn’t feel clean.

“What’s the matter now, Princess?” Sokka asked in the lobby of the bathhouse.

Azula fixed him with a severe look that he knew by now as did Aang and Katara.

“Right, the kidnapping thing,” he said. It came out almost sheepish, but Azula knew that he, like Aang and Katara, had no shame about having kidnapped her.

She flexed her hands irritably. They weren’t letting her out of their sight anymore. Not after Katara had found her trying to send a message for her father. As if Azula was the criminal here. It was nothing short of audacious, and she would have been almost impressed if not for her large she could feel her inner flame growing. She inhaled and let her eyes flutter closed. Split her ki into perfect halves, weightless. Tried to imagine the lightning rushing through her veins even if she couldn’t summon it to her fingertips currently. 

She didn’t feel it the way she had before.

Gold eyes shot open and narrowed to a point. She was really letting them get to her if she couldn’t clear her mind enough to go through the motions of lightningbending.

“Can I step out for some air, or is that not allowed?” she asked Katara, scowling in full.

Katara opened her mouth on the defensive before Aang placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. All the tension that had knotted up in her frame evaporated after a momentary pause. That was new, or maybe it was only renewed. They were all friends again after all, except for Azula who wanted them to drop dead.

“If you’re just stepping out for some air, that should be okay. Even with her history, Momo is right there to keep an eye on her, and we’ll be out as soon as we’ve returned the keys anyway. Everything is okay,” Aang said. His voice was even and fair and grating on Azula’s ears.

But she would take what she could get. “ Thank you, Aang” she said through her glaring teeth. She left before Katara or Sokka could object further and stretched in the sunlight, her eyes pressed shut. It was almost like coming home. Except she was farther from home than she had ever been and under the worst circumstances she could fathom. 

It didn’t help to wind herself up. That didn’t allow her to think her way out of this ideal.

Azula opened her eyes. 

There was a man approaching her in a gauche outfit. He was passing out fliers left and right.

“We’re a traveling circus! Come see our show!” he said, handing one to Azula.

She pursed her lips and took the flier between her index finger and thumb with great disdain. A traveling circus. What were the odds? Ty— Saionji had been obsessed with them. Had left the Great Empire of Fire to chase one down and strongarm her way into joining. Had left Azula with nothing but a note. Like it was easy.

Azula waited until he had passed, until no one was looking at her, and she crumpled the flier into her fist. It burned like Saionji’s awful note had. It didn’t bring her the satisfaction she wanted it to.

“Hey! You have to be way more careful than that!” Sokka hissed, yanking Azula away from the mild crowd.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Katara asked. Her hands were on her hips again, and Momo was mirroring her on her shoulder.

“No one saw. I’m not an idiot. I’m not you,” Azula said.

Even Aang glared at her for that, and she could tell that he was practicing great restraint when he spoke, “There’s no need to be mean, Princess Azula.”

“Yeah, seriously. What’d that guy’s flier do to you anyway?” Sokka asked. His arms were crossed now.

It was Azula’s turn to glare.

“You’re not a fan of circuses?” Aang asked.

“What’s a circus?” Katara asked.

Azula rolled her eyes. “It’s something idiots go to because they want to watch a bunch of freaks contort their bodies in weird ways and play with animals. Can we go back to the stupid camp now?”

“Uh, all right, Princess,” Sokka said.

---

The trip back to their campsite on the outskirts of the city-state of Garak was almost painfully quiet. Katara should’ve seen it coming really. Not the trip—that she blamed Azula and her mercurial moods for entirely. But being pulled aside by Aang and Sokka, that she should’ve predicted.

“Katara, I think we need a woman’s touch here,” Sokka whispered.

Aang nodded twice. “Yeah. Azula is really upset, and I think Sokka and I would make it worse,” he said. Unlike Sokka, he had the decency to look apologetic as they gave her a push in Azula’s direction despite her spluttered protests.

Smoothing herself out, Katara shot them both a glare. They were cowards.

She marched over to where Azula was standing, on the other side of the camp entirely; it was as far as they’d been willing to let her sleep from the rest of them. She tapped on Azula’s shoulder.

“What do you want, peasant?” Azula asked. She was snappish. This was worse than what Katara was beginning to deem normal moodiness for the princess.

“Not being called a peasant would be a good start,” Katara said.

Azula’s eyes squeezed shut and her face pinched.

“To know what’s wrong also works,” Katara said in a rush. While Azula was never pleasant to be around, she didn’t want to deal with a truly angry Azula.

At that, Azula let out a sharp scoff. Her arms folded over her chest. “Kidnapping me doesn’t make me your friend. I’m not going to tell you about my imagined woes.”

Katara couldn’t help it. She uncapped her waterskin, and she pulled some water out with her bending to slap Azula across her face for that. “Sorry for being nice to you!” she spat out before storming off to the sound of Azula laughing as if any part of this situation was remotely funny.

---

After they had removed the white and red of their makeup and discarded the green and black of their armor, the campfire painted the Kyoshi Warriors hues of orange. It was a calm night, filled only with the sound of their own voices and laughter. Suki felt almost at ease as she had on the floors of her friend’s bedrooms when they’d only been girls, but guilt was gnawing at her for it. She had no right to this feeling, no right to this kindness.

She could feel Bongseon’s breathing through the rise and fall of her shoulders under Suki’s head. She tried to focus on that. It was like a boundary, keeping her safe. On her other side, Chae-won’s arm was wrapped under her, her hand anchored in Bongseon’s to keep them both here.

They weren’t the only Kyoshi Warriors tangled up in each other. It was summer, and it was growing hotter and hotter still, but nighttime was cool, and they were close. Physical intimacy was natural to them.

Hana was telling a story, a true one or so she claimed. She had picked up some gossip along their travels, and she liked to recount it to the group when they let her. It was hard even for Bongseon to say no to her kitten puppy eyes, so she shared her gossip often. It wasn’t like anyone could really complain about it anyway. Kyuri, Nabi, Mi-yeon, and Yihwa were entranced by Hana’s storytelling, and Ara was cracking jokes left and right at every opportunity the gossip provided. The rest of them were listening quietly, just soaking up the moment like they were girls again and not warriors.

As Hana’s voice grew louder and her hand gestures grew wilder to indicate the climax of her tale, Suki couldn’t help but smile. She knew that the Freedom Fighters were likely eating dinner after a long day’s hard work, and she took comfort in the knowledge that her girls were full from the game they’d hunted, even if they hadn’t achieved nearly as much as she felt they ought to. They were safe. They were enjoying themselves—even Ye-rin was breathing easy for once.

“And then he asked her sister out! Can you believe that? After everything they went through together, he still picked Chihiro over her!” Hana said, falling back on her ass next to Mi-yeon.

“No way! Men are so scummy,” Mi-yeon said.

“Tell me about it,” Suki said through a scoff.

The younger girls giggled.

“Thinking about Jet?” Ha-yoon asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Suki made a face as Bongseon moved to make a rude hand gesture. “He wishes.”

“He sure does. Too bad for him you’ve got Sokka,” Chae-won said.

A few of the girls made obnoxious kissy sounds at Suki who buried her mantling face in Bongseon’s shoulder. “Shut up,” she groaned, but her heart wasn’t fully in it. What good was thinking about boys in these conditions? Suki had to put her feelings on pause to give the war her undivided attention.

Chae-won wrapped her other arm around Suki and gave her a light squeeze.

Then Bongseon cleared her throat, and the moment died. “We should discuss our next move, guys,” she said as if she had felt Suki’s mood in her own bones. Knowing Bongseon, she probably had. She could read Suki and Chae-won to an almost scary degree like that.

Chae-won’s arms didn’t budge from their place around Suki’s midsection. “Right. We can’t fall behind the Freedom Fighters in our efforts!”

There were nods and words of determination in response. The Kyoshi Warriors were in this together. They had decided on that much from the start. They had made their vows and had their initiation ceremonies and spilled blood together. They were not going to back down just because Suki was anxious. She just needed to remember that.

---

After something of a wild goose chase for her first few days outside of the Great Empire of Fire, Mai knew now she was getting closer to Zuko and Prince Iroh. Soon enough, she’d find them, and then she’d find Azula and go home. She could work out the details between finding Azula and going home later. Her betrothal would be fulfilled if Zuko came home with them, but that didn’t matter now. She could cross that bridge when she reached it. For now, Mai was fine bothering villagers and merchants and displeased restaurant owners about if they’d seen an annoyingly jovial old man traveling with a bratty teenage boy and a crew of menacing firebenders. Granted, these people seemed to find all firebenders menacing.

The latest shopkeeper in New Sozin was hesitant to answer Mai’s questions as many of the others had been. She might not look like a firebender or royalty, but her features were still too sharp to pass for those of someone from earthbender country.

“Why do you want to know about the firebenders?” he asked.

“The idiot with a scar is my ex-boyfriend. He owes me money,” she said. Like all the best lies, there was some truth to it. Azula had taught her that. The thought made her scowl slightly.

The shopkeeper’s brow did not unknit itself, but he sighed. “Well, I suppose I have no reason to protect him. They were heading northwest. It looked like they were heading for the capital. They left last night; you might catch them if you leave now.”

“Thank you for your help,” Mai said, bowing politely to him. There was no more time to waste. There were no more false leads she could afford to follow until they dwindled into nothing. She had to find Zuko. She had a mission she couldn’t afford to fail.

---

The smell of roasting elephant rats was thick in the air. It was Sokka and Katara’s first time eating the creatures, but Azula said that they were perfectly fine if gamey. Apparently, she’d hunted and eaten them for exams in school, which Sokka found to be insane,—what kind of weird military school did the princess attend?—but none of them trusted Azula as far as they could throw her. Needless to say, as much as he loved meat, Sokka was not excited to eat elephant rats. He was almost jealous of Aang’s medley of berries and stone fruit.

It wasn’t like they had anything much they could actually barter with in Garak, though. They’d traded the last of their spare clothing, and Azula was unwilling to part with her armor or diadem even if she had agreed to not wear them. So elephant rats, berries, and stone fruit it was.

“Is that barbecue I smell?” a stranger asked.

Sokka had his boomerang in hand in a heartbeat. In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of the blur of motion that was Katara opening her waterskin and Aang assuming a defensive airbending form. Even Appa and Momo at least cried out angrily. Only Azula made no move to defend their camp.

“Whoa! We mean you no harm! We’re just traveling from Dae to visit some family,” the stranger’s companion said. “Easy; neither of us are fighters.”

“Prove it,” Sokka said.

“We’ve got no weapons on us. You can pat us down. My name is Min, and this is my wife, Iseul,” the man of the duo said.

Iseul waved.

Aang, Sokka, and Katara exchanged a few looks.

Azula rose. “I’ll pat them down,” she said, sounding bored.

“No! Let Aang do it,” Katara said. 

Sokka agreed with her judgment wholeheartedly. Knowing Azula, the princess saw this as an opportunity to return to the Fire Emperor. They couldn’t give her that kind of chance. Not again.

Aang nodded, his face soft. He patted both Min and Iseul down. “They’re not lying!”

Sokka felt himself deflate with a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to have to fight on an empty stomach. 

“Sorry about that. We’ve had some really bad experiences lately,” Katara said.

“Say, are you kids Water Tribe?” Iseul asked.

“We’re from the Southern Water People, yeah,” Sokka said.

Iseul frowned. “Only you two, though. What about your friends? She looks like a firebender.”

“She’s not. Just some prince’s bastard.” It shot out of his mouth too fast to sound natural or entirely truthful. It felt fractioned. Sokka winced internally. He was making things worse. At least Katara was restraining her urge to smack him for it semi-convincingly.

Still, Azula shot him a hard look. “Thank you, Sokka, for that much needed clarification”

He shrugged entirely unapologetically.

Katara tried and failed to suppress a giggle.

“And, uh, my great grandparents were Air Nomads,” Aang said. It wasn’t exactly a lie, and it was simpler than the full truth. They’d all agreed that much less explanation was required this way.

“What are you all doing traveling together in Gaya?” Min asked as Sokka removed their elephant rat meat from the fire he’d started after Azula had refused.

They exchanged another series of looks; Sokka from where he was knelt as he served their food, Aang from where he had sat back down on a log, and Katara from where she stood just close enough to Azula to act if she got any smart ideas. They weren’t sure how to answer something like that. Honesty could be dangerous. Lying could be stupid. These were potential supporters of their cause, after all. But they were also potential allies of the Empire.

Azula saw fit to respond, though. “These fools think they can defeat the Fire Emperor.”

Min and Iseul did something Sokka couldn’t comprehend: They laughed. Like it was all some big, dumb joke, and they were waiting for Azula to say she was only kidding.

Azula laughed with them, her throat exposed and her face as close to earnest as Sokka had ever seen it. Something ugly was growing in Sokka’s chest. He could see it reflected in Katara’s eyes tenfold, and he almost moved to stop her from hitting Azula for her laughter. Thankfully, the blow didn’t come.

The laughter ceased.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Min asked.

“But you’re only kids… and this war is so much bigger than any of us,” Iseul said. “I mean, it’s not good—don’t get me wrong. But it’s been happening for almost a century, and the only real progress they’ve even made in recent years is capturing Omashu. There’s nothing to be done on either side, really.”

“How can you say that!? Don’t you know about how bad it is in the South Pole?” Katara looked somewhere between the verge of tears and the verge of waterbending.

“Or in Đất Nam? Or even the other Kingdoms of Earth?” Sokka asked. He could feel ice in his stomach. He would never understand people like this.

“Or what about what they did to the airbenders? That’s not okay—we can’t let them get away with all this genocide!” Aang said.

Iseul looked at them with something new in her eyes. Something like pity. “Those are all horrible things, but what can a group of children expect to do against an entire nation? It’s hopeless.”

“We can try to fight back! That’s better than just rolling over to die!” Sokka had all but forgotten about the meat now.

“Anyway, it’s not hopeless! We have the avatar on our side!” Aang said.

Azula scowled at him. “Bringing up that nonsense only shows how childish you all are.”

“I think my wife and I should leave,” Min said, though he looked confused now.

“That’s a great idea!” Katara snapped. Before the two of them were even gone, she was turning on Azula. “You could have our backs, you know! You are the avatar!”

Azula glared at her. “The four of you wanting to play warrior and make me fight my father isn’t my problem, water peasant.” Here it was again. The same problem they couldn’t smooth over. The same problem they might never smooth over. The whole reason things couldn’t be the same again with Aang, and the whole reason they were scared to death.

“Uh, yeah, it kind of is!” Sokka said.

“Restoring balance to the world is your responsibility, Princess Azula. I know she was scared, but Nyima would’ve wanted to fix this mess,” Aang said.

“The same Nyima who ran away from her responsibilities?” Azula asked harshly.

Katara slapped her. The sound rang out horribly, and Azula’s face burned red like her lipstick where Katara’s hand had been. “Don’t ever speak to Aang that way again.”

“My apologies. I forgot that my kidnappers had rules for my behavior. The lemur can eat my portion. I’m going to bed,” Azula said.

The conversation ended there. Sokka almost wished it hadn’t.

---

In hindsight, Suki knew that the first mistake she’d made was letting her girls laugh like little kids, full-bodied and sweet and, worst of all, loud. They were bound to draw attention to themselves that way. It was only a matter of time. And of course, they’d drawn the worst kind of attention to themselves: imperial attention.

But it was too late for regrets about how she’d let the Kyoshi Warriors fall loose and back into childish behaviors. Suki was trading blows with a firebender now. She spun her blade to dissipate the flames he sent her way, and steadied her footwork. She had to become an immovable object once more. They’d been caught off-guard, but that didn’t mean they had to die here. 

Suki wouldn’t let them.

She caught the next flame-laden blow with the hilt of her sword, too close to her hands. It stung sharper than she’d felt in combat since they’d chased the occupation out of Kyoshi Island. It only made her angrier. More determined to not let these bastards win.

Catching Chae-won’s eye, Suki dropped her center of gravity. Chae-won readied her fans and made a run for Suki, rolling off her back like a mudslide before slicing a soldier’s throat with a flick of her wrists. They’d always been a killer team.

The imperial soldiers were unphased, though. Where that soldier fell, another moved forward in their diamond attack formation to take his place. This was the thing about fighting imperial forces: No matter how small the original territory of the Empire of Fire was and how few numbers they had in comparison with The Three Kingdoms of Earth and the Warring Earth States, they were a united front. They were well-trained and merciless and completely unwilling to break formation unless you could really force their hand.

To this day, Suki wasn’t entirely sure how they’d come away victorious in Kyoshi Island. She tried not to question it too much in front of her girls, but when she was sweat-slicked and uneven in breath while her opponents were as uniform as ever, it was hard not to wonder what had gone so wrong for the Empire of Fire in that battle. Maybe it was the element of surprise the Kyoshi Warriors had had or the fear they’d instilled through Unagi or something as simple as luck.

The Kyoshi Warriors’ own formation was slipping. It was in part Suki and Chae-won’s fault for trying that move to kill the soldier. Suki grimaced at the thought, but she blocked the incoming slash of a naginata from a nonbender soldier all the same.

Not all her girls were as swift in their arms at this stage of the battle, though. Where ten minutes ago, Yihwa could’ve caught the katana that came at her between her fans and disarmed the soldier wielding it, now, a scream ripped through her throat.

Suki’s every muscle turned to stone.

Yihwa couldn’t be hurt. She couldn’t be—

“Yihwa!” someone screamed.

Suki couldn’t tell who it was as she turned to see Yihwa, bleeding horribly across her torso, between the leather plates of her armor. They had to retreat. They had to treat Yihwa’s injury. Suki couldn’t live with herself if any of the Kyoshi Warriors died, but least of all if it was the youngest of their ranks. The twelve-year-old girl who she had convinced Bongseon and Chae-won to take a chance on.

It was a blur as Hana, Ye-rin, and Kyuri moved to shield Yihwa, to protect her from further harm, and as the older girls, incentivized now like never before, were put into a frenzy. Suki saw only the red of the firebenders’ armor, the red of their blood, the red of Yihwa’s as she hacked through their numbers to give the younger girls the opportunity to begin their retreat.

“Suki! Sook, we have to run, too!” someone was saying. It might’ve been Chae-won or Bongseon or any number of people who loved Suki.

But it was only when someone grabbed her arm that Suki complied.

---

Suki’s heart was in her throat as she helped Ye-rin stitch Yihwa’s wound close. She couldn’t speak of comfort or staying with them or anything at all.

Emotionally, Ye-rin wasn’t in much better shape than Suki. It was strange how calm she could force herself to be when there was a real emergency, but Suki could see the fear glistening in her green eyes.

The slash through Yihwa’s middle hadn’t been shallow, but it hadn’t been deep enough to do more than expose some organs either. The sight of them had made Ha-yoon vomit. No one could blame her for it. They all felt sick seeing that. Hearing Yihwa’s shaky sobs about how she didn’t want to die was worse, though.

“You’re not going to die. We’re not gonna let you die, Yi,” Nabi said, running her thumb over the back of Yihwa’s hand.

“How do you know?” Yihwa’s voice came out a whimper as Ye-rin threaded the needle through her stomach.

“You’re not allowed to die, okay? So have some respect for your elders, and stay with us,” Bongseon said.

Hana was uncharacteristically silent as she watched, her arms wrapped around a trembling Kyuri.

Suki couldn’t believe she’d let this happen. It was her fault that Yihwa had been injured. It was her fault that Yihwa had been there at all. This kind of thing couldn’t happen again. Not under her watch.

“Seriously, guys, Yihwa is gonna make a full recovery! She’s in good hands right now,” Chae-won said, but Suki could tell she was only trying to sound brave.

“Okay. This is the last stitch, Yihwa,” Ye-rin said, her voice shaking only slightly. “Deep breath, and then I’ll thread it.”

“Okay,” Yihwa said.

Suki held her hand through it.

They were all quiet for a long moment after Yihwa’s stitches were done. They had sewn her back together. She had been ripped open to start with.

Finally, Suki spoke. “This happened because I let us slack off and forget who we are. What we’re here to do. I take full responsibility for this, Yihwa, and I’m so sorry that I let it happen to you. But this… it goes to show that we don’t have room to be girls anymore. And we don’t have Unagi backing us up or the home field advantage either. I promise you all that as your leader, I will make sure that next time, we are ready. If you’ll still have me, that is.”

“Don’t be stupid, Suki. Of course, we’ll still have you,” Yihwa said slowly.

“It was my fault Yihwa got hurt. So don’t blame yourself,” Kyuri said.

“Don’t say that!” Suki said.

Kyuri shrugged limply. “It’s true. I was next to her, but I was too tired to help protect her. She wouldn’t have been hurt if I’d just—”

Chae-won’s lip wobbled. “Stop it! It doesn’t help to sit here blaming ourselves! I’m sure Yihwa doesn’t appreciate it very much. Do you?”

Yihwa shook her head.

“The only thing we can do is be more prepared next time,” Bongseon said. “So we’ll do that. We’ll train harder, and we’ll get stronger, and we won’t let it happen again.”

Suki’s eyes squeezed shut. She had to protect these girls. She owed them all that much.

---

After quite possibly the worst breakfast of her life,—and she had grown up dining with Zuko, their mother, and their father—during which she’d been forced to hear Aang, Katara, and Sokka recount their many misadventures together in a feeble attempt to sway her to their side, Azula was meditating. She was counting the ridges of her spine, stacking and unstacking them. It helped to be made aware of your body like that.

She was at peace, or as close to it as she could expect to be when she was currently a kidnapping victim.

Of course, that was the moment that Sokka picked to disturb her. For all their many, many faults, Aang and Katara knew better than to disrupt her meditation. She blamed the fact that Sokka wasn’t a bender for that. Benders, even inferior ones, understood the importance of religion and body as a marriage.

“Hey, Azula, Aang has a proposition,” Sokka said.

Azula kept her eyes shut. She would not acknowledge him, least of all when he refused to address her by her correct title.

“Hey, Princess Azula, Aang has a proposition if you can pull the stick out your ass for a second to hear it.” That was not an improvement, but she doubted Sokka would give up any time soon. He was chronic like that.

“What is it?” she snapped.

“I dunno. Come on; let’s find out.”

---

Aang’s idea, as it turned out, was impossibly stupid.

“You want us to do a bending demonstration?” she asked slowly as if she were speaking to a particularly dim-witted child, which she supposed was true enough if Aang genuinely thought this was a good idea.

He didn’t even have the decency to frown at her. “Yeah! If people here really do feel the way Min and Iseul do, then maybe it can inspire hope in them to see us bending! They just need to see that we’re more than just kids! We’re skilled benders, too! I mean, you’re a Master Firebender, right?”

She scowled. It was still a sensitive subject. Even if she had proven herself before them all at the Fire Temple, she had been denied the title in an official capacity by the people who knew her best.

Except for Mai who had been adamant that Azula was already one.

“I am, yes,” she said. Pride lined her throat. The thought of Mai, so sure of Azula’s skill not just her talent, was enough to ensure that. At the same time, something horribly sad wedged its way into her ribs. Did Mai think her a traitor like she was sure her father must? Azula hadn’t let herself consider the notion, wouldn’t let herself linger on it even now.

But the thought was enough to leave her wanting to raze her own body down.

She was no traitor. She hated these brats for kidnapping her, and she would return home, to her father, to Mai as soon as the means to do so arose.

“And I’m a Master Airbender! And Katara’s getting pretty good at waterbending, too! We could totally do a demonstration to give everyone some hope!” Aang said, a stupid beam across his childish face.

Katara flushed at his praise of her slightly above average waterbending.

Azula refrained from rolling her eyes. She fixed a bright smile on her lips instead and said, “That’s so smart, Aang! Except for the part where I bend blue flames, and I’m not opposed to the Great Empire of Fire; I’m only here because you kidnapped me! Which you’re still horrible at, by the way.”

The beam sank off his face into a frown. “Oh… yeah. But, hey, maybe re-framing how you think of it will help. It’s not kidnapping, it’s… forceful befriending!” He was trying to be funny. It wasn’t working.

“Maybe Aang can put on a demonstration alone. I mean, we’ve been telling people he’s the avatar. Most people at least,” Katara said, wincing at the memory of how she’d slipped in front of Min and Iseul.

Sokka’s eyebrows knit together. “Uh, no offense, Katara, but how can Aang inspire hope in people as the avatar if he can only airbend?”

“I’ll waterbend off-stage, and we’ll make it look like Aang’s the one doing it!” she said.

That was an even worse idea. “Aside from the many, many ways I would love to see that backfire, would you really be okay with a boy taking credit for your bending?” Azula asked. She had no respect for Katara whatsoever, but the thought of Aang getting the glory for her meager waterbending was awful, even if Aang was a far superior bender to the girl.

“He wouldn’t have to if you’d try being helpful for a change! You don’t bother letting Aang teach you any airbending, even after he was kind enough to offer! You don’t bother letting me teach you any waterbending, even though I really don’t want to teach you! You don’t start fires for us to cook! You don’t let us barter with your stuff even though it’s so nice! You’re the least helpful person ever, Your Imperial Highness, and I’m sick of it!” Katara said, rounding on Azula.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not here by choice,” Azula said. “Anyway, you have to get over your blind faith in people and idiotic optimism one way or another, Katara. This is the truth of life: There are going to be people you encounter who aren’t opposed to the war, there are going to be people who are for it even if they aren’t from the Great Empire of Fire themselves, there is going to be pushback. And you can’t change that by putting on a little show with your frankly mediocre waterbending. That’s not how war works. That’s not how people work. You have to give them something real to believe in, not just do some magic tricks for them.”

For some unfathomable reason, Aang was smiling at her.

“I thought you were for the war,” Sokka said.

“I am.” It was final. There was no other stance Azula could take.

“You know, in all these days we’ve been traveling together, I don’t think any of us have ever really stopped to hear you out on why that is, Princess Azula. So can you explain it to me?” Aang asked, that unreasonable smile still on his face.

Azula’s eyes sharpened. “The avatar is a traitor to the world and my nation, so the Great Empire of Fire has to restore balance in their place.”

“But you’re the avatar,” Sokka said. “Are you a traitor to the world and your nation?”

“Of course not!” she said.

“Okay… Well, how can you restore balance and bring peace through violence? How does killing the Air Nomads or the Air Nation achieve that end? Or the genocide on the Southern Water People? Or the colonization of earthbender country and Đất Nam?” Katara asked.

Azula closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “You re-frame history through your own bias. The Air Nation was a threat that had to be stopped. The Southern Water People were thought to harbor the next avatar, hence why only waterbenders were targeted in the raids. How is giving our resources to inferior nations and cultures a bad thing? We have had to use force to do that, yes, but we have improved the lives of the people in our colonies vastly. 

“Are you not asking me to murder my own father to end this war? How is that justifiable? How is bringing the Great Empire of Fire to its knees in the name of peace not violent? Enlighten me.”

Aang shook his head. “I’m glad we’re really talking about this now, Princess, but it’s not the same. Your country wields violence against people it oppresses, and it uses that violence to ruin lives. Air Nomads believe in nonviolence, but we also believe in defending ourselves. We’re not asking you to kill anyone or attack anyone; we’re just asking you to defend the world from your country.”

“You’re a ridiculous little boy and a liar, too,” Azula said. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“Don’t talk to him that way!” Sokka and Katara said at the same time.

But Aang placed a hand out to stop them from rushing to his defense. “It’s okay. She’s not entirely wrong. I did lie, and I’ll always be sorry that I did, but you’re wrong about the war, Princess Azula. You’ll come around one day. I’m sure of that. I know you, after all.”

“There’s very little that you know, boy,” she said, turning on her heel to leave. She tripped, though, right over Momo who had been huddled low to the floor, out of her line of sight.

Momo let out an angry little yelp and shook his fist at her like he hadn’t been trying to trip her. She hated that little lemur almost as much as she hated the rest of her captors.

---

Of all the people Zuko expected to run into on his quest to hunt down the avatar, his betrothed was not high on the list. Strike that. Mai didn’t make the list at all. He blinked, trying to be sure that he wasn’t seeing things.

She still stood there, tall and lean and pissed off. He had barely had time to process having seen her again at the Fire Temple, but seeing her outside of the Great Empire of Fire was a hundred times stranger. Especially in such a quaint bakery.

“Mai, what are you doing here?” he asked. He couldn’t tell how he felt to see her other than knowing that he was deeply bewildered by her presence.

Iroh laughed pleasantly, though. “How good to see you, Nakatomi-san,” he said, bowing lightly.

Mai returned the gesture. “Please, you can call me Mai, Your Imperial Highness. I’ve been looking for you both for some time now.”

Dread crept up Zuko’s spine. “Don’t tell me you’re mad at me.”

“I’m always pissed at you, Zuko, but that’s not why I’m here. His Heavenly Sovereign sent me. He wants me to work with you to bring Princess Azula home,” she said quietly so as not to be overheard.

“Chichi-ue still wants me to bring Azula home? Well, do you have a plan? We’ve been tracking her, but she seems to be sticking to Gaya right now, and it’s kind of a pain to make a move on her in earthbender territory.” No matter how uncomfortable he felt about the idea of working with Mai, he was but his father’s loyal son.

“Slow down. We can’t talk about this here. Where are your men? Your ship?” she asked.

“The ship is under instructions to be waiting for our return at Shisa Harbor,” he said.

Iroh picked that moment to chuckle.

They both turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… How young love picks back up again. Watch the two of you rekindle your relationship working together,” he said. There was a smile on his face.

Zuko felt sick, though.

“Our relationship doesn’t need rekindling. We’re betrothed,” Mai said flatly. For as little inflection as there was to her voice most times, Zuko didn’t think she sounded anything short of unhappy about it.

---

New Azula was beautiful as far as earthbender architecture went. Michi supposed they couldn’t complain too much. There were certainly worse places they could have been sent, even if the people looked beaten down and half-furious as they bowed to her and her husband. It didn’t matter, though. Ukano would, with her help, have them whipped into shape in no time.

Besides, while Michi had married into the upper-echelon of nobility and had been far from poor before that, it was certainly an upgrade to be carried in palanquins to the castle they would live in.

“I could get used to this,” she said, almost giddily, to Ukano when they exited the palanquin to enter their new home.

“It’s not so bad, no,” Ukano said. “Of course, I would’ve preferred Zuko not to dishonor himself in the first place, but…”

“Exactly,” Michi said, not letting her smile slip as the thought of her daughter entered her mind not for the first time since their journey had begun. She couldn’t afford to think too much about Mai, though. She didn’t want to either.

There were more pressing matters than her daughter’s well-being.

---

In the end, Aang relented to packing up to leave Garak without attempting a bending demonstration to sway their hearts. Azula was right about that much; these people were not so fickle that their minds could be changed about this almost century’s long war with something quite that simple. He could yield to her on that. It didn’t mean surrendering entirely.

Still, as they boarded Appa for their journey to the next stop, Aang couldn’t help but frown.

“Stop moping,” she said. “Your idea was never going to work. The avatar is the heir apparent to the Dragon Throne, and she doesn’t want to be here at all.”

“I know, but I’ll find a way to change your heart. I mean, who could say no to this face?” he asked, holding up Momo and wiggling his wispy eyebrows.

Azula was decidedly not moved by this. “You’re delusional.”

“Hey, don’t be a jerk to Aang!” Katara said.

“Yeah, seriously. What’s your damage?” Sokka asked.

“What’s my damage? How about the fact that you—”

“Kidnapped you, yeah, we get it. Stop complaining about that already. You’re beating a dead ostrich horse!” Sokka said.

Just like that, the three of them were at each other’s throats once more.

Aang really couldn’t catch a break with them, could he?

---

The dimly lit inn room Mai occupied was filled with the sound of her furiously dipping into the inkwell as she wrote a letter she knew she would never send. She had to get it off her chest at long last, though, and she hadn’t had the time to do so when she’d been looking for Zuko and Iroh.

“To Her Imperial Highness, Princess Azula,” it read, the carefully constructed chiji of Azula’s title strange in contrast with the hiragana of her name, “What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you fight back? I know that you’re strong enough to beat some foreigners. They weren’t even skilled for the most part. So what? Did you hate the idea of me abandoning you to move to New Azula so badly that you left me first? Did you do it to hurt me? 

“You’re impossible. I hate you. I hate the position you left me in. I hate how much I want to follow you.

“That sounds treasonous to even think. I absolutely cannot do that. I owe it to my country and to His Heavenly Sovereign to bring us both home. Maybe Zuko, too. I don’t know.

“If I bring Zuko home with us, I can stay in Heian-kyō. Maybe you’ll stop being such a massive bitch if I do it. Maybe you’ll get even worse. Fire Emperor Ozai would hate it if I brought him home, and you would hate that he hated it, after all.

“I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to leave either. I just want you. Tell me what to do. Can you do that? Can you make this easy on me just once? I don’t know what I’m asking. I know you. You would never do that. You’re a heinous bitch. You always have been.”

She stopped writing. She couldn’t say anything further. She was already standing on the edge of treason. She had to get away from the ledge. She had to destroy the proof she’d ever been there. Even if a man as kind as Prince Iroh found it, even if someone as poorly positioned to utilize it as Zuko found it, it would only lead to trouble for Mai. And she had enough of that as was.

She struck the flint rocks she’d been given for her teapot together, and she watched the fire flicker into life.

---

Ozai watched as Shyu screamed in agony, his arms engulfed in flames. It was over. He had lost the Agni Kai as he had lost his family. He was to be scheduled for execution for his honor-based crime of high treason in the morning. And soon, the Nakatomi girl would return with his Azula. Everything was returning to the way it ought to be.

He left the arena in silence as Shyu’s arms were doused. He had no interest in seeing how mangled they became in the aftermath of the trial. There were more pressing matters at hand. 

In the days since Azula’s disappearance, Zhao had yet to leave Heian-kyō. He was lurking around the Imperial Palace like some kind of viper rat. It was less than desirable. But Ozai had time to attend to that problem now, and he had requested Zhao’s presence in his chambers following the Agni Kai.

When he reached his ornate chambers, Zhao was already standing within it, admiring the family portrait of him with Azula. Or maybe he was glaring at it, resentful that he wasn’t included in Ozai’s family. Ozai didn’t care enough to know that kind of thing. Zhao’s feelings were, most times, inconsequential to him.

“You wanted to see me, Your Imperial Majesty?” Zhao asked, turning to bow to Ozai.

“Do not beat around the bush, Yōmei. You have chosen to stay in Heian-kyō for longer than needed. Why is that?” Ozai asked. He was horribly certain that he knew the answer, knew exactly what the leech he called a nephew wanted from him, but he dare not voice it.

Zhao feigned confusion. “I was unable to pass up on the opportunity to see my most honorable uncle fight an Agni Kai against the lowly Nakatomi traitor. Is that such a crime, Your Heavenly Sovereign?”

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Ozai said stiffly. “However… There is the matter of Azula. You have been sworn to silence, and yet I worry.”

“Why should you worry?” Zhao asked, smiling like the viper rat bastard Ozai knew him to be. He was worse than scum on tabi boots. He was an opportunist sleaze who would take the horrible kidnapping of his own half-cousin and use it to get what he wanted.

Ozai would be forced to yield or see Zhao killed. And as much as he was itching to kill the man, it would be impulsive and foolish when he could nip this in its butt.

“Why indeed. Though, I suppose that I have no reason to mistrust the faithful Captain Yōmei.” It was poison on his tongue, but it was a necessary evil. And he could always change his mind about killing his nephew.

“Is that a promotion?” Zhao asked.

“Yes,” Ozai said, disguising his disdain only somewhat. “You should be off now, Yōmei.”

Zhao prostrated himself one last time. “I have only one stop before I can leave, Fire Emperor Ozai.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

“Why, Lu Ten’s grave, of course.”

Notes:

additional cws: mild gore description? jic

translation + cultural notes:
- shisa refers to the ryukyuan lion dogs

up next: aang comes to term with something horrible and zuko and mai have issues, but that doesn't mean they can't work through them

Chapter 10: The Last Air Nomad (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this one is short, but that's okay because the next one should be quite long.

It was after the Air Temple that Aang began to badger Azula about her airbending, or her lack of interest in learning it from him. It wasn’t that she thought he was a bad airbender; on the contrary, she knew that Aang was a Master Airbender. It also wasn’t as if she could afford to be all that picky about who taught her to airbend, seeing as Aang was, in all probability, the last living Master Airbender and the only person qualified to forge her into one as well.

Rather, Azula had been watching and storing the information for a time when she was alone. With her firebending, she had had the grace of starting at three, a respectable age for any bender to begin learning to bend. Her mistakes had been punished even then, and she had shown her aptitude for it swiftly. Having an audience was necessary.

With her airbending, she was starting at fourteen, practically an adult. She was certain that her instructor would not punish her for errors as he ought to, and she had no idea what natural inclinations for the art she might possess. An audience would only be a hindrance.

Today, Azula rose before the sun, when all the world was asleep, including her captors.

Whatever Aang, Katara, and Sokka might believe about her, Azula wanted to feel the air coursing through her. She wanted to finally feel that she was the avatar. That the power to come home and win the war was within her.

Azula had always been fascinated by the airbenders’ style. She had learned to evade and tire her enemies out from them when she had studied the Air Nation scrolls stored in the Imperial Library. It was exhilarating in a way, to know she could do that, move like they moved, bend like they had. She had been taught her entire life that all other elements were inferior, but she knew that they would still serve their value in battle as their respective styles did.

She inhaled deeply, deeply aware of each of her bones with the movement of her lungs. A brief meditation before her warmup was always a good idea. She need not fall into a deep one where she could count the ridges of her spine. Just breathing to center herself and her ki would be fine. So she let her eyes close gently.

The moonlight was not bright enough to peek through the back of her lids. The sounds of her captors’ breathing—and of Sokka’s snoring—were not loud enough to distract her. She was one with the world. The world was one with her body.

She wrung out her limbs before stretching them expertly. Her body was loose. Pliable. As ready to be led by the air as it was to lead the air.

Azula assumed the first stance of the beginner’s kata that Aang had shown her. She moved her arms through the air, trying to direct it in a way she was not used to, not producing it but merely manipulating it.

She failed. The air was not moved by her bending. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

She took a deep breath, and she tried again. The same move, but with more concentration.

Still, the air did not respond to her.

And again. And again. And again. All to the same end.

What was she doing wrong? She was disciplined, she had relaxed her body as Aang had said she must, and she had executed the move exactly as Aang had shown it to her.

Azula dropped to the grass beneath her, wet as it was with the dew of dawn, and she assumed a meditating position. She would get it right. She had to if she ever wanted to go home.

---

Like Sokka, Katara had never been a morning person. Of course, morning was deeply different in Amarok Akuq. Even during the months when the sun was above the horizon, it was nothing like it was in the Three Kingdoms of Earth, where the sun dripped gold as it rose in the sky. It was beautiful, but that didn’t mean she appreciated being awoken by the heat and noise of Azula firebending at dawn to see it.

“Can she sleep at normal hours for once?” Sokka grumbled.

“No, because firebenders rise with the sun,” Katara grumbled back what seemed to be Azula’s second favorite (after only her kidnapping) talking point when it came to arguments.

For once, Azula said nothing as she grunted and ran through a rather complex form. It might’ve been impressive if Katara hadn’t been so heavy with sleep.

“Let’s make breakfast, I guess,” Aang said, stretching. Katara couldn’t help but envy the amount of grace he had when rolling with Azula’s punches, of which there were many. If he ever snapped, she was sure that what little patience she had left for Azula would wither and die.

As they put together what was left of the food they’d bought as soon as they’d left the Gaya confederacy and began their trek up north, Katara couldn’t help but eye Azula. She could feel the worry lines carving into her brow once more. While it was normal for Azula to spend her morning training or meditating or any number of things she said any good bender should spend hours doing, she didn’t usually possess such animosity for either act.

Azula was firebending with a fervor that Katara had never seen in her. It was disciplined as Azula always seemed to be, but the look in her eyes gave Katara chills as the blue flames danced around the other girl.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Shouldn’t you be cooking breakfast like a good little girl?” Azula snapped.

And there went Katara’s concern. “You could at least help me out with it like Aang and Sokka do,” she said.

Azula made no move to reply or even let Katara know that she’d heard her. She just continued bending, doing a complex rotation through a firebending form. It was annoyingly perfect and, worse, pretty. For as lethal as Katara was sure her flames were, they were also beautiful.

“Shouldn’t you be careful with that? We are getting close to the next town, and your fire is pretty distinct,” Sokka said. He looked as annoyed as Katara felt.

“If you don’t want to get caught kidnapping the future crown princess, you shouldn’t let me firebend at all,” Azula said like it was simple.

Aang’s face flattened into an almost severe seriousness. “No, there’s no way we can do that. Suppressing someone else’s bending is an act of violence.”

“One the Empire has a lot of experience with,” Katara said. The truth tasted bitter on her tongue.

Azula sighed. “Fine. I’ll help with breakfast, but if you try to make me cook—”

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” Sokka said flatly.

Katara supposed it counted as a win. That didn’t mean she could enjoy it in the slightest.

---

“Tell us where those brats went or I’ll burn this pathetic shop to the ground!” Zuko said, slamming his fists down on the merchant’s table. He needed answers, and he was sick of this man beating around the bush about what may or may not have gone down and where Azula had or had not gone.

The man only trembled before him.

“Cool off, Zuko,” Mai said. Her voice was as sullen as it ever was, but her expression was somewhat disdainful. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her knives glinting out from the sleeves of her kimono. “You’re not Fire Emperor Sozin.”

It was ice down his spine. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your prince! I may not be Fire Emperor Sozin, but I’m his legacy! And if I think we need to threaten some Three Kingdoms merchant, then we will!” he said, trying to channel his father’s dragon-like mannerisms.

Judging from Mai’s constant unimpressed frown, he failed.

“When did you become such an ass?” she asked.

“When did you become such a bitch?” he shot back.

Her face contorted. “That’s so typical of you. You’re always looking to blame someone else for your own failings. Just admit that you’re a selfish bastard.” Her teeth glared at him with each syllable she bit out, the accusation as awful as she was being.

“How am I selfish? Just because you can’t wait to get rid of me so you can go back to your perfect life with my sister, that doesn’t make me the bad guy, Mai!” It wasn’t fair. He knew that Mai’s life wasn’t perfect, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He wanted to hurt her the way she was hurting him and spitting venom was the only way he could think to do it.

In his peripheral vision, he could see the shopkeeper shrinking, his face wrinkling with confusion as he tried to slip away from them.

“Did I give you permission to leave?” Zuko demanded.

“Well, no, but this is my store, and you’re not really… in the Imperial House of Fire anymore, are you?” he asked, sounding unsure.

Zuko incinerated some of the shop’s merchandise. It didn’t alleviate the pain ringing throughout the left side of his face to watch the fabrics burn. “I am Prince Zuko, firstborn son of Fire Emperor Ozai!”

“You’re the prince of not caring about anyone else,” Mai said.

“Would you—”

Iroh clasped a hand on both their shoulders, bridging the two of them together. “Oigo-kun, Mai-chan, fighting will not get us any closer to tracking down the target.

“Choi-ssi, I ask that you please excuse their fighting. We’ll be taking our leave now. We have no more questions for you,” he said.

“Wh—you can’t just let him leave!” Zuko said. The fight was not willing to leave his body. He had to find Azula. He had to bring her back to their father. He had to bring the avatar to the Fire Emperor’s feet. Those were the terms of his banishment. That was the only way he could come home.

He was going to come home. Whether Iroh and Mai wanted to help him do that or not.

Iroh was dragging him out of the shop, though.

“What was that!? We can’t abandon our cause! I have to find her to restore my honor!” Zuko was saying.

Mai scoffed openly.

“We were never going to get anything out of him with the way you two spiraled into infighting, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said. He looked old, and he looked tired.

Against his own wishes, Zuko stopped fighting so much.

---

Aang had called dibs on Azula (and Momo) the moment Sokka had suggested they split up to find lodging for the night and new clothes now that they were in Empire of Fire territory. It wasn’t necessarily that Aang himself enjoyed Azula’s company, but rather that he knew Sokka and Katara didn’t have the patience to tolerate it. She was a prickly girl. That didn’t mean Aang didn’t see the good in her, though. She was the reincarnation of Nyima, and she was only a girl, tasked with saving a world she didn’t believe needed saving.

He was trying to understand her. He was trying to save her, too.

But for now, all he could do was spend time with her as they went shopping for clothing. She had made clear how much she detested the clothes they wore—the stink of them, their dyes, all of it. And she was rich beyond what Aang could even comprehend, so she had barely even blinked when Katara had sarcastically suggested she pay for new clothes then.

“You must be excited to wear a kimono again,” he said cheerfully.

“Of course. Hanbok look ridiculous,” Azula said. She didn’t look up at him as she said it. Her expression was neutral as she intently studied the cheaply dyed kimono that hung on the rack before her.

Aang’s mouth sank into a frown. “I don’t think they do.”

She offered no acknowledgement whatsoever. 

For once, Momo didn’t shake his little fist at her for her rudeness. He didn’t even make an offended little noise at her. He was completely still on Aang’s shoulder, staring off into the outside crowd.

Aang tried to follow the lemur’s gaze, but before he could land on whatever it was that had Momo’s attention, Momo was launching off his shoulder to chase it down.

“Momo!” Aang cried out.

Azula clicked her tongue.

Just like that, he was wrapping a fist around her wrist to tug her out and after Momo. They couldn’t let the little guy get lost or trampled. Aang wouldn’t allow it. Momo and Appa were all he had left of his culture, of Nyima and Gyatso and everyone else who’d been stolen from him.

Azula was saying something in protest, Aang could hear her voice, but he wasn’t listening as he tried to follow the little spots of white and brown he was seeing. It was only when she yanked her arm free did he turn back to make sure she wasn’t going to bolt now.

Of course that was when he crashed into something very solid and boy-shaped. They went toppling down together, Aang on top of this stranger.

“I’m so sorry! I was trying to catch my winged lemur, and—”

“It’s okay. Really, I’m fine. It’s just that you’re on top of me.” The boy sounded rather amused by the whole ordeal.

Aang scrambled off of him, his cheeks and ears mantling. “I really am sorry—” His breath hitched as he finally got a good look at the other boy’s face. If Katara had a face like the sun, this boy had a face like the moon. Bright and round and moonlit. It went right down to his eyes—a deep, stormy gray. Gray eyes like so many airbenders Aang had known.

A slow grin took the boy’s face. “Hi,” he said, bowing his head. “I’m Hayashi Natsuki.”

“I’m just Aang. It’s nice to meet you…” He bowed back, breathless. Momo jumped up onto his shoulder, dancing around happily. “This is my buddy, Momo.”

“And I’m Nakamura Hanabi,” Azula said. Her neck and spine were unbending. She refused to bow even to be polite.

“She’s my friend,” Aang said quickly.

Azula raised an eyebrow at him, but he barely even noticed. He was so wrapped up in memorizing the softness of Hayashi’s face. It was familiar in a distant sort of way. Like the melody of a lullaby he’d heard long ago. He didn’t want to look away. He didn’t want to have to forget again.

“First the lemur, now her. You’ve got a lot of friends,” Hayashi said.

“You can never have too many,” Aang said.

Hayashi laughed lightly. “I guess not.”

They shared a smile like it was a secret between friends. Aang felt his heart ache slightly in his chest. He wanted to keep this boy. He could dig out space in his life for Hayashi, find a spot for him on Appa, teach him airbending alongside Azula, defeat the Fire Emperor together, the whole thing.

Katara and Sokka would understand. He’d make sure of it.

And then Hayashi was grabbing him by the hand and taking off. Azula followed, thankfully.

“Where are we going?” Aang asked.

“We gotta hide! The truancy police are out!” Hayashi said. Once they rounded an alley, he stopped running. His hand lingered in Aang’s a moment longer before releasing it.

“You’re a truant.” Disdain dripped from Azula’s words.

“The term is almost over anyway. And I only ditch when the curriculum leaves much to be desired. So when it comes to certain historical inaccuracies.” Hayashi gave Azula a look that Katara gave her frequently. Only from him, there was even more mistrust. “Your eyes…”

“My grandmother was a concubine of Fire Emperor Azulon,” Azula said. She left it at that, but Aang could tell from the way her long nails dug into the flesh of her palms that she wanted to say more. She was biting her sharp tongue, and for that, he was grateful.

“You don’t like learning about their version of history either, Hayashi?” Aang asked.

Hayashi’s face softened. “A lot of it is untrue, ‘just Aang.’”

Aang flushed lightly and stupidly said nothing. He liked the way his name sounded on Hayashi’s tongue. The safety carried in the way his mouth wrapped around the syllable, not too harsh.

“What brings you three here anyway? You don’t look like you’re from here—no offense,” Hayashi said, giving Momo’s soft head a scratch.

“None taken. We’re clothes shopping. Ours kind of… smell. Plus the hanbok is pretty outdated in New Sozin now,” Aang said.

“Yeah, by about sixty years,” Hayashi said, his mouth twitching up.

Aang couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at that.

“All thanks to that fool, Iroh,” Azula said bitterly. For all her excellence in lying, it sounded too sincere to be part of her charade as Hanabi.

“You don’t call him by his title,” Hayashi said.

Azula’s body tensed. “No, I don’t,” she agreed.

Hayashi nodded approvingly. “Maybe you’re okay, after all, Nakamura-san. You know, it’ll be pretty hard to clothes shop during school hours. How about I help you guys dodge the truancy police?”

“That sounds great! Right, Hanabi?” Aang said.

Azula just sighed. “I suppose our alternative is waiting in this alley until school is out.”

And that was less than ideal seeing as it would worry Sokka and Katara horribly when they didn’t show up at their agreed meeting spot. But somehow, Aang couldn’t bring himself to mention Katara in front of Hayashi.

---

Zuko wasn’t talking to Mai. Not that Mai was talking to Zuko either. It wasn’t a ceasefire, though. It was a mutual game of cold shoulder, and the first person to break the ice would lose. Zuko had never been a good loser, so he knew it wouldn’t be him.

They trudged onward, up north where they believed Azula and her new friends were heading after overhearing something about a sighting of a giant white beast flying through the air. It had to be that bison those peasants traveled on.

Zuko was trying to focus on how close he was getting to retrieving his sister. To his genpuku, to manhood, to being made crown prince at long last. He would get everything their birth order said he was owed. 

Maybe even her respect.

It was unrealistic. He knew that. Azula was an awful girl who would taunt him until her dying breath, but if she was a traitor by virtue of existing and he was their father’s loyal son, then how could she not bow to him?

How could Mai have become so loyal to her since he had been gone? The thought was needling under his skin, turning his inner flame hot and bright and volatile. He was sure his fingers were smoking like those of an undisciplined child again, but he couldn’t stop it.

Before she had been his betrothed, Mai had been his friend. He had whispered childhood secrets to her and heard hers in return, holding them between his ribs where no one could extract them. It had been the closest thing to love that he had ever dared to imagine once upon a time.

“It’s too beautiful a day to waste it bickering. Don’t you agree, Oigo-kun?” Iroh asked, cutting through the silence.

Zuko huffed. “I’m not bickering with anyone, Oji-sama.”

“I see… and you, Mai-chan?” Iroh asked.

“Bickering is for children, Your Imperial Highness. I’m an adult now,” she said.

The blunt edge of his nails scratched along his palms. He couldn’t believe the nerve of her, bringing up her own genpuku. She was not the Mai he had known in childhood. She was not the girl he had trusted more than he could trust himself. She was a woman now, and a cruel one at that.

He wouldn’t lose, though. He wouldn’t rise to her bait and speak to her. He was not going to break first. He knew that as he knew that he would have his homecoming yet.

So he said nothing. He didn’t even spare a glance back at her. She didn’t deserve the satisfaction. She certainly wouldn’t derive it from him.

“This is going to be a long journey…” Iroh said.

“It’ll be fine,” Zuko said stiffly. He meant it as much as he could.

---

Aang hadn’t stopped smiling since Hayashi had offered to help them shop. It was almost unnerving. The way he laughed at all of Hayashi’s jokes, the way the two of them leaned into each other, it wasn’t right. And Azula didn’t have the time to reprimand Aang about how that kind of coupling was illegal here; not when she was busy looking over her own shoulder.

Anyone could recognize her from the old portrait. She knew that she was older now than she had been when it had been painted, and her baby fat had begun to dissipate since she was eleven, and she looked haggard and awful now, so unlike the picture of perfection she normally was. It didn’t make her feel better in the slightest. Her eyes were too distinct. Her face was her cowardly mother’s—the only thing that awful woman had ever given her.

But there Hayashi and Aang were, laughing like little kids, like they’d known each other all their lives. It was strange how easy it was for them to slot together like newly found puzzle pieces.

“You’d look great in this pattern,” Hayashi was saying as he held up the ugliest kimono Azula had ever seen.

Aang was doubled over. Azula didn’t find it funny at all. Surely not rib-ache worthy.

An old man’s gaze caught on them. Azula didn’t know if he was staring at the boys who stood too close for comfort or her. Neither answer was good. One would inevitably lead to the investigation of the other.

She lifted her chin haughtily as if challenging him to question them.

He tore his gaze away.

Relief washed over her like a tidal wave.

“You two fools need to stop being so obvious,” Azula hissed. “People are staring.”

A blush eclipsed Aang’s face. He began to splutter a pathetic denial of her accusation as if he’d been at all subtle about his staring or his proximity with Hayashi.

“Maybe they’re staring at the huge stick up your ass,” Hayashi said coolly.

Azula’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t be sure they weren’t staring at her. She didn’t want to find out, though.

Aang tried to stifle a giggle. “Hey, Hanabi’s not bad,” he said weakly.

But she had never wanted someone’s defense less.

“If you say so, ‘just Aang,’” Hayashi said.

Aang’s blush darkened. “Hey, I thought I said to stop making fun of me, Hayashi!”

“All right, how about this? I’ll call you Aang if you call me Natsuki,” he said. It felt indecent to even witness.

Azula averted her gaze harshly. She didn’t have it in her to deal with this right now. Or ever.

---

“She didn’t run away,” Mai said, breaking their cold shoulder.

“So you say,” Zuko said.

“I know Azula.” She sounded half desperate. Like she needed to believe it herself.

Zuko didn’t know what to make of her. “I do, too,” he said.

She just shook her head.

It made him want to burn the greenery surrounding them to the ground. Instead, he stopped talking to her again. It was easier that way. Cleaner.

Iroh sighed.

---

“So you need four, huh? How unlucky,” Natsuki said.

Aang had known it wasn’t something he could dance around forever. He had known that their other friends would come up, that Katara would come up, and it felt exactly how Aang had expected it to. Like he had done something wrong by not mentioning her, like he had done something wrong by being drawn to Natsuki. 

“I’ve got three friends to travel with. I think that makes me really lucky,” he said. It wasn’t untrue. Not entirely at least. He was sure Azula would object to being counted as his friend, but maybe Momo counted. Appa, too. Four wasn’t unlucky in any of the Air Nomads’ cultures as far as Aang knew; that was something from the Great Earth States and the Empire of Fire alike.

“They’re lucky to have you,” Natsuki said.

Aang blushed again. He’d been doing that a lot today. “Yeah, well…”

“We should hurry up. They’re probably wondering what’s taking us so long,” Azula said. She sounded irritable. She usually did, but this was worse. Like there were knives in her throat.

“Right… It’s getting kind of late.” Aang regretted that he had to go soon. He regretted that he’d ever seen Natsuki’s face, let alone those deep gray eyes of his. It was a lot to hope for, but it was nothing he could really have. Not now.

“One last shop?” Natsuki asked. It sounded almost like he was asking Aang to stay longer, so he ignored Azula’s irritation, and he did. Just a few minutes longer.

---

Katara felt skinned raw as she watched Aang’s face, so open and earnest and with an over-pouring of hope. She knew that if he was shaken, if he was thrown even a little off-balance, every last drop of that hope could spill out of him. That was the worst part. It was awful, feeling this way.

It was awful to hear how Aang was so happy, so elated, so thrilled as he jumped around the boys’ inn room, telling them about the friend he’d made. “I think Natsuki’s an airbender like me! He’s got gray eyes—tell them, Azula!”

“Princess Azula,” Azula reprimanded, “and I guess Hayashi does. Not that that matters.” She was sick of Aang at this point, that much was clear.

“Of course it matters! I mean, he didn’t just seem like an airbender! He was like—he reminded me of an Air Nomad,” Aang said, his voice turning wobbly at the end. Katara could see the hope brimming over his edges. She didn’t want to see it spilling.

She knew what it was like to have your hope disappear like that. Even if Aang had been the reason for that, she didn’t want to see it happen to him. Not now.

“Uh, listen, buddy, that’s really cool and all, but I’m not sure it’s possible that Hayashi’s an Air Nomad, all things considered,” Sokka said gingerly. He was on the same page as she was when it came to Aang. They almost always were.

Aang deflated slightly, but his hope didn’t wane. “I know he’s not—like me. He didn’t survive the genocide, but… I think he was raised with the culture.”

“But isn’t it illegal?” Katara asked. She considered reaching out and wrapping Aang up in her arms or pressing her nose to the surface of his face. Somehow, it didn’t feel right. That kind of tenderness wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

“Yeah, I thought the Empire put up a bunch of laws regulating the Air Nomads’ cultures,” Sokka said. He scratched the back of his head, at a loss for what to do or say here.

Aang shook his head, though. “Just because they suppress a culture doesn’t mean they stamp it out completely.”

Azula’s nostrils flared.

Katara just barely restrained herself from leaping across to tackle the princess and stop her from saying whatever awful thing she was going to say.

“You’re being a fool. Hayashi might be an airbender or of airbender descent, but there’s absolutely no chance that he was raised with any part of Air Nation culture. The Great Empire of Fire wouldn’t make such a costly mistake,” she said. Her voice was ugly, her words cruel. She was always doing that: cutting to kill.

“That’s not fair, Princess Azula. He could’ve been raised by descendants of Air Nomads. Your people aren’t spirits. Maybe some of them even felt bad about what they were doing, and they let Air Nomads escape,” Aang said, blinking rapidly. His eyes were watering.

“Unlikely,” Azula scoffed.

“You’re being a bitch, Your Imperial Highness,” Sokka said.

“Seriously! Do you have an off switch?” Katara asked. “Sokka, talk to Aang. Princess Azula and I are gonna have a girl talk.” She grabbed Azula by the hand, digging her blunt nails into Azula’s skin, and she dragged her away from the boys and into their shared room in the inn.

“Everyone keeps grabbing me today. Who do you people think you are?” Azula snarled, viciously yanking her hand out of Katara’s.

“Shut up! You’re gonna shut up, and you’re gonna listen to me for a minute, okay?” Katara said. 

Azula glared at her but said nothing.

“Okay! I know Aang is being naïve! Sokka knows it, you know it, Aang probably knows it deep down! But here’s the thing: He’s hurting. Your people slaughtered his. I don’t care what you think about that—it was genocide. They killed his people and his culture, and Aang is all that’s left of any of it. That’s something he has to carry with him for the rest of his life.

“He woke up one day and everyone and everything he had ever loved had been stolen from him. He’s allowed to feel this way and behave in ways you find irritating, especially since it was your great-grandfather who took all of that from him.

“Can you just—can you try to be compassionate to him, just once? You don’t have to understand it, but can you just try to be kinder to him about it?” Katara was trembling. Her eyes burned. She hated Azula so much, but she just wanted the princess to listen to her. To hear her, and to be sorry. Was that so much to ask for when her family had ordered the genocide of the airbenders and the ongoing genocide of the Southern Water People?

Azula stared at her, face unreadable. She said, “Whatever you say, Katara.”

Katara grabbed a pillow, and she screamed.

---

Young love was a strange thing, Iroh mused to himself. He could remember his own awkwardness with his late wife when they had been young. He had been so distant with Hanabi at first, his foot perpetually in his mouth when he spoke to her. And she had been cold with him in turn; it became something of a game with them. It had been almost like courtship until he’d overcome his fears and told her what she meant to him.

Perhaps Zuko and Mai needed a push to understand that. After everything they’d been through, they deserved happiness. Iroh would see to it that they found it.

It might even take Zuko’s mind off the stress of hunting down Princess Azula.

“I don’t suppose either of you are hungry,” he said as they walked past a small ramen stall in the equally small town they were passing through. The savory and fresh smell of pork and vegetables was thick in the air.

Mai paused. “I’m fine, Prince Iroh,” she said dutifully, but her eyes lingered on the man happily slurping down a bowl.

Zuko’s stomach rumbled.

“I think that settles that.” Iroh smiled at them both. “Come, we’ll have a bowl before we find an inn. It’s late, and we should retire from our travels soon.”

They sat down, and they ordered, and they were served, and they said their thanks for the meal. Zuko and Mai hardly exchanged a word the whole time.

That wouldn’t do. Eventually, Iroh cleared his throat.

“What is it, Oji-sama?” Zuko asked.

“It feels almost intrusive for me to be here when you two are out together. You should be speaking heart to heart,” he said.

Zuko choked on the noodles he was slurping up.

“No, we definitely shouldn’t,” Mai said quickly.

“Ah, but you’re betrothed to be wed. Why, I remember my own wedding… Hanabi was an amazing woman,” Iroh said, smiling fondly.

Mai’s expression soured even more. “Zuko would have to be un-banished for us to be wed. Ideally, he’d also have his place in the line of succession restored and experience genpuku. My parents would have a cow otherwise. It’s not like they had us betrothed because Zuko is so charming.” There was a bitterness coloring her voice that Iroh had never quite heard before.

Zuko’s knuckles had turned white around his chopsticks. “That brings us back to the task at hand, anyway. We’re not here for love, Oji-sama! We’re here to find Azula and her new friends.” He spoke too loudly, and the staff looked up at them curiously, but Iroh did not correct him.

“That’s not what they are. You know that.” Mai aimed a cold glare at Zuko that even Iroh found uncomfortable to witness.

“How do you have such blind faith in her?” Zuko asked, bewildered.

“You’d know all about being blind,” she snapped, her gaze fixed on his left eye.

With that, Zuko’s chopsticks caught fire. “I’m done eating.” Carelessly, he dropped his flaming chopsticks into Mai’s broth. “I’m not waiting with you.” He stormed off, footsteps heavy on the pavement.

There was a long moment where they were silent as Mai pushed her bowl of ramen away and the other customer stared at them, slack-jawed.

“I’m sorry that Zuko is so temperamental, but you were harsh with him, Mai-chan,” Iroh said.

Mai’s mouth formed a hard line. “I know.”

For once, Iroh was at a loss for words. He had always been fond of Mai, but he would be a liar if he said he understood her.

---

Mai didn’t know what she’d expected from Iroh making the room arrangements for their inn stay, but she hadn’t expected to share a room with Zuko. She certainly hadn’t expected there to be only one bed. It was just like Iroh, though. Even in the solemn face of defeat, he was trying to rekindle their relationship.

It would’ve been funny if she had anywhere she could set down her anger. But she didn’t. She had only Zuko, looking at her like she was a stranger, and the one bed they were to share.

“If you kick me in your sleep, I’ll slit your throat. It’s not like that’s treason anymore,” she said coldly.

Zuko glared at her. “I’m still a prince.” He was delusional like that. Holding onto a lost title when everyone but Iroh knew it was time to give it up and admit the truth. He’d always been stubborn, though. That was one part of him she still recognized from their shared childhood.

It was almost comforting. Almost.

She rolled her eyes, and she didn’t push the subject. If Zuko wasn’t willing to face the noise, she wasn’t in the mood to make him. It made so little difference to her whether she was traveling with someone who knew he was an exiled ex-prince or someone who was deeply in denial about his situation.

She changed into her sleeping clothes, and Zuko did the same. Neither of them so much as warned the other against looking at each other. For all she felt Zuko had become a stranger, Mai knew that he wouldn’t do that. And even if he did, he had every right to, considering the contract that stood between them.

“Good night,” she said stiffly.

“Good night,” he echoed.

They lied down, careful to put as much space between the two of them as they physically could. There was already so much space there, gaps and canyons and worlds between them.

Mai gripped the sheet over her tightly. She closed her eyes, letting the darkness envelop her. But sleep did not come. It did not take her far away from this world she was living in, where Azula was slipping further and further away with every passing second, and Zuko was right there but had never been farther away from her, and Iroh was trying to bridge them together in a way they could never be again, and Fire Emperor Ozai was counting on her to not be a failure for once, and her parents were already in New Azula, living as its masters, her mother’s stomach swollen with Mai’s soon-to-be brother as everyone was so sure the child would be.

She was a disappointment to everyone in her life, including herself. Maybe that was why she could not sleep. Maybe that was why her parents were replacing her with a better child. A son, even if he was not their firstborn. Maybe they would lie and tell everyone he was.

They would all be so happy to forget Mai, after all.

The silence was as overbearing as Mai’s own mother was.

“Are you still awake?” Zuko asked.

Mai considered not responding. She could keep breathing as evenly as she could. If she did, he would give up.

But instead, she said, “I am.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I can tell.”

He was quiet for a moment, wounded no doubt. Then: “Have you thought about this? Us sharing a bed…” 

It was such a stupid question that Mai almost snorted, but that would have been unladylike, utterly improper. Even with Zuko, she couldn’t slip. Maybe especially with him.

“I don’t think about you anymore,” she said. It was pointed and cruel. It was mostly true.

“I meant in the past.”

Mai’s grip on the sheet tightened. She focused on her breathing. Keeping it even and steady was important. She spoke at last, “I used to, yes. I imagined us stowed away from everything together. Your father, my parents, Azula, all of it.”

“What changed?” He sounded so sad. It was almost pathetic. But it was Zuko, and it couldn’t quite be that.

Still. “You screwed my family over,” she said coldly.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, defensive as ever.

Mai squeezed her eyes shut. “I know that.”

Silence unfurled like the ocean over them again. She almost left it at that. She couldn’t, though.

“For whatever it’s worth, that’s not the only reason I’m mad about it. I hate that you got yourself banished and burned because of what it means for you, too.” That was truer than she wanted it to be. It left her feeling rubbed raw.

“Do you know what I did to get into that mess? Did they ever tell you?” he asked.

Mai knew. Of course, she knew. She didn’t know how to tell him that, though. It hurt to speak. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be there at all. So she said nothing like the coward she knew she was.

He took it as a denial. “Oji-sama sneaked me into a war council meeting. I was so excited to see how Chichi-ue ran things. I thought I could be useful even. But the plan that General Yamamoto suggested to secure the Lu Province required sacrificing soldiers. Good men with families and loved ones. I thought that was wrong, so I spoke out against it, and in doing so, I unknowingly disrespected my father as the Fire Emperor. I was told I would fight an Agni Kai. I—I deserved it. I dishonored Chichi-ue. And I wasn’t even right; the plan worked, and Lu Province bowed to our great nation. But at the time… I assumed my opponent in the Agni Kai would be General Yamamoto.”

“But it was your honorable father,” Mai said quietly.

“Yes…”

She exhaled shakily. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “You should’ve cauterized your bleeding heart years ago, Zuko.”

“I know.”

Mai let her tears slip freely down her cheeks. She hated herself for it.

---

Aang wanted to say goodbye to Natsuki before they left. Katara, Sokka, and even Azula had allowed him that much. They’d come with him even, Katara and Sokka in support and Azula because she had no other choice. He would count it, though.

“Hey, Natsuki,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” Natsuki said, grinning.

“We’re, uh, we’re leaving pretty soon, and I was hoping we could hang out a little before that.”

Natsuki’s face sombered slightly, but he nodded and slipped out of his house. “Where to, Aang?” he asked, bumping Aang slightly.

“Somewhere private,” Aang said. An important request. One that Natsuki looked happy to oblige. “These are my friends. You remember Hanabi and Momo, but this is Katara, and that’s Sokka.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Natsuki said, bowing.

“You too,” Sokka said, bowing back.

Katara bowed, too, but her eyes lingered on the way Natsuki and Aang’s hands brushed.

Aang couldn’t bring himself to withdraw his hand.

“This isn’t just hanging out like yesterday, is it?” Natsuki asked.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry,” Aang said with a grimace.

Natsuki just smiles at him. “It’s okay. You’ve got places to be. As long as I get a few more minutes with you.”

“I wish you could come with us,” Aang said.

“My mom would kill me.” A non-answer. No room to know what Natsuki wanted.

“I just—I know it’s stupid, but I’ll miss you.” It was painfully true. Aang would miss Natsuki and everything they could’ve had together, every gap they could’ve filled for each other, every joke they wouldn’t get to tell the other.

“Can I give you something to remember me by?” Natsuki asked.

“Of course,” Aang said.

Natsuki took him by surprise. He kissed Aang, short and sweet. The sensation of Natsuki’s lips on his didn’t leave just because Natsuki pulled back after only a moment.

Azula hissed. Aang could hear it. He could hear Katara’s gasp, too, and Sokka’s awkward chuckle as they’d all borne witness to his first kiss. But he didn’t care. He chased after Natsuki’s lips, but he was met with Natsuki’s hand to his chest.

“It’s not goodbye forever, all right? Airbenders have to stick together after all,” Natsuki whispered.

“You knew!?” Aang asked.

“I had a hunch. You look like one, except your eyes,” Natsuki said.

“See? Aang was right!” Sokka said, jabbing Azula in the ribs.

Azula must have swatted at him for it from the sound he made, but Aang was too zeroed in on Natsuki to care or see it. “What airbenders are you descended from? You don’t really look like a Southern Air Nomad, but—”

Natsuki was laughing slightly at how Aang rocked back and forth on his heels in excitement. “My mom is of Western Air Nomad descent,” he said.

“That’s so cool! What do you know about your culture?” Aang asked.

“Aang, that’s not a good idea—” Sokka said.

Natsuki’s whole face had fallen. He was staring at Aang like he couldn’t understand him. “Aang, I don’t know anything the Empire doesn’t want me to know. The only thing my mom can tell me is that they were a peaceful people, and the history books are wrong about them.”

Aang felt sick. “I’m so sorry… I should’ve—I was wrong. I was hoping—I shouldn’t have expected you to know.” He didn’t know where he was going with this. He only knew he couldn’t stomach being here any longer.

So he ran.

---

Azula followed after Aang before anyone else could, even Katara. She didn’t understand it herself. She only knew that her feet were carrying her after the boy.

“Aang, stop running,” she said.

He came to a halt. “I’m sorry. You were right,” he said.

“There are clearly other airbenders… and at least some of them are… aware of your stance on the Battles at the Air Temples,” Azula said tentatively. The words felt strange in her mouth.

“I guess,” Aang said, “but even still, I’m the only person who knows and practices any of our cultures. I’m the last Air Nomad.”

Azula sucked in a breath. He sounded so small. So scared. Her stomach twinged with something worse than pity.

“Maybe you are. That doesn’t mean you’re alone. Airbenders and their kin are everywhere. I used to know a girl with gray eyes,” she said, stepping closer to Aang.

He sniffed. “You did?”

“In the Great Empire of Fire. We grew up together.” She was walking a dangerous line. Consoling Aang was pointless, except that it might make him more bearable while they traveled together. Except that Katara’s words rang in her head.

Azula stood by her nation, strong and proud, and she knew that her family had done these things to win the Heavenly War of Tranquility. But that didn’t mean that people couldn’t still be hurt by those acts. That didn’t mean Azula couldn’t look at Aang and see how much he was aching.

“What happened to her? Was she—was she killed?” Aang asked, pale now.

“No. Everyone used to tease her about it, her airbender roots. But she’s alive. I think so, at least. She ran away to join a traveling circus, actually. I don’t know anything else. I just woke up one day, and she was gone. And all I had left of her was a letter. She didn’t sign it, but it was her writing. And she called me Azula. No title. All it said was that she was free now, and she hoped I could forgive her one day.” Her voice did not tremble. She wouldn’t let it.

Aang exhaled. “Air is the element of freedom.” He sounded wistful. He sounded like he was lost in his own memories.

But if air was the element of freedom, maybe Azula wasn’t free. Maybe that was why she couldn’t airbend.

She said nothing of her doubts.

“Ty Lee’s prison was one of my own invention,” she said instead.

Aang stared at her. “Even if that’s true, she’s free now, Princess Azula. And if she wrote you that letter, I don’t think she resents you for it.”

“I don’t care what she resents me for,” Azula spat out.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Azula stared back at him, feeling as raw as she had at twelve, losing one of her only friends.

“My point, boy, was that there are airbenders everywhere. You… you could pass your culture onto them one day,” she said.

“But that would go against your beliefs, wouldn’t it?” Aang asked, his head tilted curiously.

“You do a lot of things that go against my beliefs,” Azula said. It wasn’t an answer.

Notes:

additional cws: homophobia, ableism

up next: azula's luck runs out, katara gets a crush, aang isn't sure this feels right, and sokka is very sure this feels wrong

Chapter 11: The Freedom Fighters (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this was not as long as i wanted, and it's really pushing that 4 days deadline, but it's still the 11th where i am. so yeah. enjoy.

It had been two weeks, and airbending still wasn’t coming to Azula despite her perfected movement through each form Aang had shown her. His words rang in her head: Air is the element of freedom. Technically, she wasn’t free; she had been kidnapped by these infuriating, miserable children. And yet.

That wasn’t what was inhibiting her ability to airbend. Azula knew that. It stung violently to know that. A prickling in her veins. She couldn’t linger on the knowledge, though. She just kept moving through the same forms as light on her feet as anyone could be. It always met the same end. She ran through the form in full, exactly as Aang did it, except she could not so much as move a gust of air.

She was still practicing without the others knowing. She would not show them her airbending until it existed as more than just the movement of her body. Even then, she wasn’t sure she wanted them to see it. To ignite in them the hope that she would go along with their ridiculous plan of killing her father to end the war or bringing him to his knees or whatever delusional thing they thought she could do.

Azula wasn’t strong enough to do that. She never would be.

And it was wrong. It went against everything she knew to even consider it as a reality. Entertaining their delusions was not a possibility. She sprung forward into a dive, using her hands to propel her further into a curling kick. She didn’t even pick up a breeze.

Failure. Just like Zuko.

She was supposed to be better than her brother. She was better than him. So why was this so impossible for her? She should be able to will herself free. Lo and Li would be so disappointed in her. Her father would be so disappointed in her.

She shuddered at the thought. If he could see her, he wouldn’t even want to look at her. He hated looking at her when she got like this. She couldn’t blame him. She hardly wanted to look at herself even when she wasn’t like this. The shape she was in now was pathetic. Disgraceful. Dishonorable.

Against her better judgment, Azula let out a scream of rage.

“Princess, can you shut up?” Sokka grumbled, stirring from his slumber.

“Or at least stop rising with the sun,” Katara said, her voice muffled by the way she had buried her face in her pillow.

Aang only mumbled incoherently.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Azula said with a sneer.

“Wow, she apologized. That’s a first,” Sokka said. “Seriously, though, what’s up?”

Azula blinked slowly at him. “Why do you care?”

“I mean, you’re kind of under our care, and I’m the oldest—”

“False! I’m a hundred and eleven,” Aang said, smiling as wide as he could this early in the morning. He looked vaguely terrible.

Sokka swatted at him. “As the oldest, I guess it’s kind of my job to make sure no one like… dies.”

“Your ‘care’ has been truly abysmal,” she said.

Katara huffed. “Well, you’re not dead!”

“True enough,” Azula said. It came out with a short breath that was almost a laugh. Not quite, though. They weren’t friends, not even on the rare occasion Aang, Katara, and Sokka weren’t completely awful to be around.

“You should sleep, though, Princess Azula,” Katara said, a hair gentler than she’d been a moment before.

Still, Azula did not listen to her.

---

“Traveling on foot sucks,” Sokka said.

“You lack discipline,” Azula said, not breaking a sweat. She was always saying things like that. It made Sokka want to shake her. Violently.

He scowled at her instead. It was less violent and less effective, but it still got the point across: Azula was irritating beyond belief. “Says the girl who probably got carried everywhere back home.”

“Not everywhere,” she said. Her voice was almost singsong-y. The sound was even more grating with the mental image of Azula riding in one of those ugly little palanquin he’d heard about before. He’d never actually seen one, not even in Omashu, but he assumed they were ugly. Queen Chung-ha’s palace had been gauche, after all, and he knew the Empire of Fire was worse.

“You are unbelievable,” Katara said.

“Should we be talking about this so loudly?” Aang asked. His voice was teetering on nervousness. Normally, that was Sokka’s role.

But Sokka was in a piss-poor mood from walking instead of riding on Appa, and from Azula waking him up at pre-dawn, and from how half of his breakfast had eaten shit when he’d been starving. So for once, Aang got to take a stab at being the voice of logic and nerves.

“It’s not like we’re yelling it,” Sokka said.

Naturally, that was when they walked into what should have been a green clearing dotted with men donning red armor.

Sokka’s already sour mood worsened at the sight. He armed himself with his sword, its weight familiar in his grasp. In his peripheral vision, he could see Aang ready himself with his glider-staff, Katara uncorking her waterskin, and Azula slide out a red and black knife he’d never seen before. Maybe they should have searched her things when they’d decided they were committing to kidnapping. Nonetheless, Sokka was going to get a glimpse of Azula’s fighting capabilities without her firebending. That would certainly be interesting.

As he waited for a soldier to strike him, he felt a weird sort of thrill despite himself. Battle was as much a rush as it was a terror.

Appa let out a cry.

The first move came from his left—Katara slashing through the air with a stream of water. Sokka could see the movement all around him; Aang and Azula’s graceful maneuvering, Katara’s clumsier but firm arm movements and footwork, Momo flying overhead in circles, Appa backing up and out of the battle, and the soldiers united front on them, unfurling like a wave. He focused on himself, though. The steady, unmoving wall he had to become. The tension between his shoulder blades. The burning of his arms as he moved to deflect where necessary and attack when he saw an opening.

Sokka saw new movement on the edges of his vision. The treetops were rustling. And then they were being burst out of; kids, some as young as Aang and some older than Sokka, were crowing as they descended upon the scene. They were armed, glints of silver and bronze visible in some of their hands.

And then they were attacking the soldiers, aiding Sokka and his friends—and Azula.

A roguish boy with a wheat straw in his mouth said something Sokka couldn’t understand. It was Jigueo, but he spoke rapidly and with a country accent. Sokka only caught the word help.

“What was that?” Sokka asked, slashing clean through a fireball.

The boy spared him a glance and dashed, tigerheads at the ready. He skewered a soldier who had been creeping up behind Sokka.

Not another word was spoken between the two teams until each soldier was dead or otherwise downed. Aang didn’t like to kill, after all. It went against his culture.

Sokka couldn’t lie; he understood Aang’s aversion. It made his stomach curl to smell the metallic scent of blood heavy in the air, to see the pools of red surrounding the soldiers’ limp bodies, to wipe his sword clean with the care Suki had taught him. But there were times when killing was necessary, and this had been one of them.

“Thank you so much,” Katara said in Higo.

The boy with a wheat straw poking out from his lips said in Jigueo, “We don’t speak Higo here. Decolonization starts at home.”

“Whoa,” Katara said in Jigueo this time, “that’s so cool.”

“Speaking of colonizers, who’s your friend?” a girl asked.

“Smellerbee, I’m sure their friend is fine… even if she does look like a firebender,” the boy said.

“What’s wrong with being a firebender?” a butch-looking girl and a lanky boy asked simultaneously.

“Nothing! Um, well, not inherently! But Hanabi isn’t a firebender! No need to worry about that! She’s just from the colonies,” Aang said.

The boy raised an eyebrow at them but accepted that. “So she’s Hanabi. And you are?”

---

The more Katara talked to Jet, the cooler he became. She liked his accent, which he described as hick-ish, and his ideology, which was rooted in never giving up without a fight. She really liked listening to his tour of the Freedom Fighters’ base, which was located securely in the treetops. It wasn’t like she was alone in being smitten with the whole Freedom Fighters concept either—Sokka and Aang were both oohing and aahing along with her as Jet explained it to them.

“We’re all orphans,” he was saying. “Most of us lost our parents to firebender scum,—no offense Snips, Quickfire—but not all of us. We’ve all been wronged by the Empire in some way or another, though. My parents were killed in front of me when I was a kid. Smellerbee’s whole village was razed when she was little. Snips’ mom was raped by a soldier. On and on. You get the idea. We’ve all got a bone to pick.” Like everyone else, he signed in Three Kingdoms Sign Language as he spoke for the benefit of a deaf boy called Earworms.

“Hell yeah, we do!” Smellerbee said.

Roughly half of the other Freedom Fighters—Brainless, Snips, Bugs, Princess, Mammoth, and The Duke—whooped and hollered in agreement.

“So you guys are a functioning resistance to the Empire of Fire,” Sokka said.

“And you’re all kids like us,” Aang said. “Not everyone takes us seriously, but you guys are so…”

“Cool,” Katara said. It was the only word for them.

Azula clicked her tongue, though. She was always the contrarian when it came to these matters. Even if she’d had a weird moment of understanding and compassion with Aang recently, she still seemed to be indifferent at best to their war efforts.

“Maybe a little bit,” Jet said. “Unless Hanabi here disagrees.”

“Don’t mind me,” Azula said dully.

Jet took a step closer to her, his dark eyes raking over her features. Katara knew that Azula was the spitting image of Empire of Fire nobility with golden eyes to match, and she felt her stomach twinge in discomfort as Jet searched the princess’ face for something. It was best that people didn’t look too closely at Azula.

“You know, Hanabi, you look really familiar,” he said.

Azula’s eyebrow shot up. “We’ve never met. I just have one of those faces.”

He shook his head. “Nonsense. You’re so beautiful—”

“Like my mother—I know ,” she said sharply. Her tongue was barbed and downright strange today. What did her mother have to do with anything?

“Haha, Hanabi is so weird, isn’t she?” Katara said, forcing laughter. She elbowed Sokka and Aang sharply so that they would follow suit.

“The weirdest!” Sokka said. “She’s just always saying strange, strange things that have nothing to do with what was said to her.”

Azula’s eyes sharpened at that, but she bit her tongue.

“Right,” Jet said disbelievingly.

Katara really hated the princess.

---

It was late, and they’d said their goodnights to the Freedom Fighters after supper. But they were gathered now in Katara and Azula’s shared lodging amongst the trees. This was an important—and private—meeting that Katara had called after the Freedom Fighters had gone to bed.

“We shouldn’t tell anyone that Azula is the avatar. Are you kidding?” Sokka asked, looking exasperated with Katara for having even asked.

“I’m just saying! It’s not like we can’t trust him!” Katara said in something like a shouted whisper. It only made sense to her. Jet could support them in their endeavors with the backing of the Freedom Fighters.

“No one is saying we can’t trust Jet. It’s just that… I mean, people already think I’m the avatar. We can use that to our advantage! It gives us the element of surprise,” Aang said.

“Right…” Azula said, “it has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve yet to bend any other elements to prove I’m the avatar?”

“You don’t have to prove it to us. We saw you at the Fire Temple,” Katara said.

“Yeah, when Avatar Roku possessed you or whatever,” Sokka added unhelpfully.

Azula only rolled her eyes indifferently. “Nevertheless, Aang is right. For once. It would be a tactical disadvantage to reveal that I’m the avatar. No one on your side of the war would be very hopeful knowing that. Rightfully so, of course. I would never help you out.”

“I dunno. I still think you can be convinced,” Aang said. He had that dopey smile on his face again.

Katara’s heart ached slightly. She ignored the sensation.

“Whatever you say, air peasant,” Azula said.

Sokka slugged her in the shoulder, but it looked far too gentle to Katara. “Hey! What did we say about that kind of language?”

“It’s hurtful to the poor.”

That was decidedly not what anyone but Azula had said about that kind of language.

---

The thing Sokka was most impressed by in the Freedom Fighters’ hideout was simple: the design of it all. At first glance, it looked merely like treehouses with a wire grid between them for transport. The more closely Sokka looked, though, the more impressed he became. The treehouses were constructed in the common style of the Three Kingdoms, like mini houses as opposed to just poorly thrown together slabs of wood.

When he’d asked how they achieved that, Brainless had smiled dopily at him and proudly said that she’d been part of that alongside Earworms, their team’s other earthbender. Jet had overseen the construction of each treehouse, including the extra ones which had apparently belonged to Freedom Fighters who had died or left the group because they couldn’t hack it.

“So you guys have had members die before…” Sokka said slowly.

“Yeah, but death is a risk we’re all willing to take. Even The Duke,” Jet said.

“Isn’t The Duke like seven?” Sokka asked. His eyebrows had shot up in alarm.

Jet laughed slightly. “He’s eight, but he wants to fight back. If I didn’t take him, he could’ve ended up anywhere. And trust me, he would’ve tried to fight the ashmakers with or without the Freedom Fighters. If anything, we’re keeping him safe.”

It didn’t quite put Sokka at ease, but he could understand that will to fight now. He hadn’t gotten it before he’d met Aang; he couldn’t imagine seeing the world any other way anymore, though. “Yeah… well, I’m sure you know what’s best for him. You’ve known him way longer than me.”

“Yeah, it’s been two years now since I started looking out for him,” Jet said.

Sokka’s chest tightened. “I’ve been looking out for my sister since our dad left to make contact with the Northern Water People. It’s been almost two years now…”

Jet clasped a hand to his shoulder. “I understand.” His eyes burned with it.

---

“So when you conjugate that, it becomes—”

“Fighting! Okay, now I’m starting to get it,” Katara said. 

Jet had offered to help her with her Jigueo in exchange for her teaching him some Imiqtitut. Secretly, Katara thought she was getting the better end of the deal. It wasn’t that she didn’t see the value in her mother tongue, but when was Jet going to talk to anyone other than her, Aang, and Sokka who spoke the language? Jigueo was of immediate use to Katara, even if she was in colonized earthbender country where most people spoke Higo. It wasn’t like there weren’t plenty of people who spoke Jigueo for her to talk to on her travels.

Like Suki, Bongseon, Chae-Won, and the other Kyoshi Warriors.

Now that things were slowing down again, Katara was starting to really miss them. It had been nice to talk to girls who got her. Now all she had was Azula who was a terrible conversationalist at her kindest.

“So how do I tell a girl she’s really pretty in Imiqtitut?” Jet asked. He had this huge grin on that made Katara feel dizzy.

“Oh, um, well… you—you—” She was tripping over her own words now. “It’s like this… You’re really pretty.”

His smile softened. “You’re really pretty, Katara.” It sounded rough on his tongue, but she kind of liked that.

But there was something not right about this. Something hadn’t been right in two weeks. Maybe even longer. Aang made her feel so giddy and free sometimes that she thought she could fly. But Aang had lied. And he had also been kissed by Hayashi before they left. He’d let Hayashi kiss him. He’d kissed Hayashi back.

Katara’s heart sank every time she lingered on it. It was getting harder to deny why.

She liked Aang. She liked Aang in a childish, frivolous way she couldn’t afford to when they were at war. When he’d lied, and they’d patched things over, but nothing could be truly right until they knew the war was winnable.

“What’s wrong?” Jet asked.

“Nothing—it’s stupid,” she said.

“It’s Aang, isn’t it? I see the way you look at him. He doesn’t look at you the same way, though,” he said.

It hurt to hear. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s looking at you like you look at him.”

Her heart fluttered. She said nothing. She didn’t know what she could say.

“He’s a great kid, but he’s only a kid. You can’t be mad if he’s not ready yet to appreciate someone as beautiful as you yet, Katara,” Jet said. He was scooting close so that their shoulders touched. It didn’t feel as electric as touching Aang did.

“He kissed someone else,” she admitted.

“So he’s an idiot,” Jet said.

Katara laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. It came out weak and sad. “Maybe.” It didn’t feel true in the slightest to say.

“Definitely. You’re gorgeous, and you’re funny and kind. Sokka says you’re a pretty good waterbender, too,” he said, reaching over to play with her hair.

She cleared her throat nervously. “We should continue with our lesson.”

---

Jet was a surprisingly good meditation partner for someone who claimed he hadn’t been all that religious in the years following his parents’ murders. Aang got that—he knew how losing the people who loved could take root in you and make you ache and hate everything. But he was glad that Jet was trying. It had helped him, and he wanted to help Jet, too.

So the two of them sat together, and they said nothing, and they let their thoughts wander. They breathed in, breathed out. Felt the weight of their bodies. The contractions of their lungs. The structure of their spines. All of it.

Aang didn’t know how long it had been since they’d come out to do this. It was early, though. And Azula must be itching that she couldn’t practice her firebending here. He really hoped she wouldn’t, at least. It would be hard to explain away why their nonbender friend Hanabi who was good with a knife was bending blue flames like only Princess Azula could.

Jet certainly wouldn’t appreciate the way they’d lied to his face.

There was also the matter of how, as much as Aang didn’t like to think too much about it, the Azula situation was decidedly not under control yet. No matter how hard he tried, she still didn’t agree that the war was wrong. She’d inched toward progress the other day, but she wasn’t there yet. Not really. So she was a firebender, a member of the Imperial House of Fire, the avatar, and decidedly for the war.

That didn’t strike him as a combination that Jet would like. He didn’t even like that combination.

Aang was frowning now. He could feel it sinking his good mood.

Still, he didn’t say anything. He was trying to be in the moment with Jet as they meditated together. It wasn’t like Jet could console him about this either. That would just be stupid.

Reluctantly, Aang puffed up his cheeks and exhaled slowly.

“Oh, right. Breathing,” Jet said.

Aang cracked a grin at that.

“Hey, can we take Appa for a joy ride after this?”

---

Azula was avoiding the others. Or maybe they were all avoiding her. She didn’t particularly care as she sat down on the floor of her shared room and pulled from her bag a calligraphy set she’d bought when Aang had been distracted by that Hayashi boy.

She had a letter to write.

“To Nakatomi Mai,” she made the strokes heatedly, with none of the careful precision she’d written the chiji of Mai’s name with before, “I hate you. It was your awful idea that I go to the Fire Temple. I want to blame you for me being the avatar at all. For putting me into this situation in the first place. I can’t, though.

“But I have no qualms blaming you for being a coward. You didn’t follow me. You were supposed to always follow me. But then there was your betrothal to Zuko, then your family’s relocation to New Azula, and now this. You stayed when they took me, you awful bitch. You left me.

“How am I supposed to navigate this alone? I don’t understand any of it. My kidnappers are mostly kind to me. Except for when Katara smacks me around and lectures me like she thinks she’s my mother (Katara is the waterbender you fought) and when they reprimand me for stating facts we learned in our schooling. They treat me like I’m reprehensible for believing my education.

“I’m starting to fear that I might be. I’ve met people, several people now, who believe that the Battles at the Air Temples were a genocide against innocent people and not military battles between a dangerous nation that would not surrender and our Great Empire of Fire. I’ve seen people who are… hurt by our great nation’s war.

“I am not a traitor. It is not in my blood to commit treason. I would never go against my honorable father. But I

“What do I do, Mai? Why aren’t you here to help me? Why didn’t you keep me out of this mess in the first place?

“I hate you. I miss you. I hope you die for betraying me.

“Signed, Her Imperial Highness, Princess Azula of the Imperial House of Fire.”

She couldn’t send it. She wasn’t an idiot, and she had no messenger bird even if she’d wanted to. She burned it like any reasonable person would. A simple ignition of her firebending, and the whole parchment was engulfed in royal flames.

When it was ash, she crushed out their life with her fist and discarded its remains in the trash bin.

The door to her room slid open. Sokka was standing in the entrance. He sniffed the air twice. “It smells like you burned something in here.”

“That’s because I did,” she said.

“You’ve gotta be more careful. I don’t think Jet would be thrilled to find out who you are, even if we did tell him you’re the avatar,” he said, sounding far too serious to suit him.

She rolled her eyes. “Stay out of my business, Sokka. I know what I’m doing.”

He scowled. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Newsflash: We aren’t friends. You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re worried about me out of the goodness of your heart. You just don’t want to get caught.”

She pushed past him. She had to meditate after that conversation. It wasn’t like she could train.

---

It was typical that Smellerbee had pulled the short straw. She was on trash duty. Again. Princess could bite her at this point. She was pretty sure the straw pull had been rigged ever since she’d eaten Princess’ leftovers last month.

She had already taken out the trash from Aang and Sokka’s shared room and the trash from the Freedom Fighters’ rooms. There was only Hanabi and Katara’s trash left.

That didn’t serve to cheer her up at all, though. 

She sighed and made a beeline for the trash. When she went to empty it into her sack, though, there was something funny. Little black clumps came out. They looked like ashes. That shouldn’t be possible, though. The flintstones were kept in their kitchen and dining area, and they weren’t to be brought back to anyone’s room. Katara wasn’t the type to break rules from what Smellerbee could tell. There was Hanabi, but she had hardly left their room to do anything other than eat and meditate since she’d arrived.

Hanabi was Empire of Fire, but she didn’t seem like a firebender either. Not from the way she’d fought with that knife against the soldiers. Aang had sworn she wasn’t one, too. He didn’t seem like a liar. Did he?

But if they hadn’t had the flintstones or Quickfire or Snips to help them start a fire, the only other way was if one of them was a firebender. There was no way it was Katara unless she was the avatar. That was the kind of information you volunteered when you met a resistance who would support you, though.

Anyway, what had they been burning? It was all ash, so Smellerbee couldn’t tell from looking at it. She reached in to see if it felt familiar at all. She’d seen and felt a lot of things burned down to the ground. Houses, shops, her parents.

This had been parchment from what she could gather.

She had to report this to Jet. He would know what to do about the possibility of Hanabi being a viper rat.

She took the ziplines back to his room, and she burst in without so much as knocking.

“Jet, look what I found in Hanabi and Katara’s trash,” she said.

Jet looked at the ashes. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, Smellerbee. I’m keeping a close eye on Hanabi. If she’s a firebender, I’ll find out, and I’ll deal with her.”

“You really do recognize her from somewhere, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure that I do.”

---

When Jet had invited them to accompany the Freedom Fighters on a mission, Aang had thought he meant the kind of mission where they fought soldiers valiantly. He hadn’t realized they were going to hide in the bushes to infiltrate a strange-looking white building. Its walls were clean looking. It didn’t look like it was constructed by Three Kingdoms citizens, but it also didn’t look quite like anything out of the Empire of Fire’s architecture either.

“Jet, what is this place?” Katara whispered.

“You don’t recognize it?” Pipsqueak asked.

A round of head shakes. Nos all around. Not even Azula had said yes, but her jaw was slightly slackened.

“It’s a hospital,” she said slowly, “but it’s all wrong.”

“They’d probably call it a hospital,” Tigress said. She was quiet, but there was a bitter edge to her voice.

Jet scowled. “Probably, but it’s a lab. They experiment on earthbenders here.”

Azula’s face twisted into alarm. Aang couldn’t fathom why. Shouldn’t she have known about this? She was the only viable heir to the Dragon Throne. Her father should have told about whatever these experiments were already.

“What kind of experiments?” Sokka asked.

Aang preemptively dug his nails into the flesh of his palms. He had to brace himself for whatever Jet said next. It wouldn’t be good. Nothing about this business seemed good.

“You don’t want to know,” Jet said.

“We do,” Azula said fiercely.

Jet sighed.

“They’re trying to figure out what makes earthbender’s bending work. They want to see if they can eradicate it. Or use it to their advantage,” Stink said.

“It’s nasty shit,” Bugs said. “I heard that they slice people open and—”

“They don’t need details, Bugs,” Jet said.

Aang wasn’t sure he agreed. As horrified as he was, he wanted to know exactly what they were up against. He hadn’t thought they could sink lower, but the Empire of Fire was even worse than he’d ever seen coming. “What are we gonna do about it?”

“I’m glad you asked. We’re gonna rescue their so-called patients. Then we’re gonna flood the place,” Jet said.

Azula paled.

Aang wanted to ask if she was all right, but in the blink of an eye, she fixed her face into something unreadable. The moment of almost vulnerability was over. She was stone again.

“Katara, your waterbending is gonna be key to this,” Jet said. “They were stupid enough to trust the dam to the east would hold. But with the combined force of your waterbending, Snips and Quickfire’s firebending, and Brainless and Earworms’ earthbending, we’re gonna prove them wrong today.

“I know what you’re thinking: That dam isn’t earthbender-made. How are we gonna destroy it?

“Don’t worry too much, okay? We’ve got gunpowder we stole a while back. Quickfire and Snips are gonna ignite that from a safe distance, Brainless and Earworms are gonna help bend a clear path in the earth to the lab, and Katara is gonna make sure it floods effectively.

“But first, we have to have our stealthiest go through the lab to split up and clear it of any surviving ‘patients.’ Any volunteers?”

Aang’s hand shot up immediately as did Stink’s, Tigress’, and Longshot’s. Slowly but surely, Azula’s once manicured hand joined theirs in the air. There was something to the hardness of her eyes that stopped anyone from questioning her.

---

Longshot was breathing down Azula’s neck as she sneaked through the dimly lit corridors of the laboratory. He didn’t utter a word; according to Smellerbee, he rarely did. Still, he was her shadow, practically adhered to her heels.

She gestured for him to go left while she went right, but he shook his head no. They were a package deal no matter how much Azula wanted otherwise. Rolling her eyes, she acquiesced to them sticking together where she thought they ought to split up.

There was no one in the room, except for the nude corpse on the table. Like the previous corpses they’d discovered, it was stiff and paler than could be healthy with surgery scars littering the canvas of its skin. It was missing an arm, and its face was horribly young. The girl that the corpse had once been looked to be about Azula’s age, but she was so malnourished it was hard to tell. Azula turned to leave when the corpse moved.

Longshot darted forward to feel its wrist. He nodded at her; there was a pulse, and they had to help this patient out of the laboratory. As the would-be corpse stirred, he helped her into an upright sitting position.

“Can you move, or should we carry you?” Azula asked. She was careful to keep her voice steady despite the pounding in her eardrums. It sounded like her own blood rushing all throughout her veins.

The girl nodded deliriously. “Where are we going?” she croaked out. Her voice was rough on Azula’s ears as she wrapped an arm around the girl to support her.

“Somewhere safe,” Azula said.

The girl’s eyelids were sticking together despite what Azula assumed to be her best attempts at opening them. It was better that way. She would be far less likely to freak out if she didn’t see Azula and her bright gold eyes.

It wasn’t exactly a comforting sight when you’d been held prisoner by imperial physicians, if Azula could even call the men they’d seen that.

The girl picked that moment to stumble into Azula. So she couldn’t walk on her own.

“We’ll have to carry her out,” Azula said to Longshot.

He nodded and took the girl’s feet.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. Her breathing was slow. So slow and slight that Azula almost forgave herself for having thought she was a corpse at first.

“We’re the Freedom Fighters. We’re here to help,” Longshot said. It was the first Azula had ever heard him speak.

---

“Is that everyone?” Jet asked.

“Yes,” Aang said. “I did two sweeps of the whole building. Everyone else in there is a physician or… or they’re dead.”

“Do you wanna sit this part out?” Katara asked. She wanted to reach out to touch Aang, to comfort him about what they’d all just witnessed with appearances of the survivors of the experiments. She didn’t, though. Something was stopping her. Maybe she needed comforting, too.

“Yeah, everyone would understand. I know the whole killing thing is against your culture,” Sokka said.

Aang shook his head. “No. I know all life is sacred, but… I mean, I can watch. I’ll help out if anything goes wrong.”

Katara felt only slightly eased by that. She leaned into Jet. It helped, being near someone.

“You’ve got this, Katara,” Jet said.

“Yeah, you’re the best waterbender I know,” Sokka said.

“I’m the only waterbender you know,” Katara said. Her heart panged. It was a bad moment to remember Anh and all that the older girl had taught her, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had been an amazing waterbender. If she was here, then maybe Katara would feel better. She wanted to live up to what Anh had taught her. She wanted to make sure these so-called physicians never hurt anyone again. She didn’t want to let anyone down.

“Ready?” Jet asked her and the earthbenders.

She nodded. Brainless and Earworms did too.

He made the hand signal for Quickfire and Snips. Just like that, the dam was up in flames. The water it had contained came rushing toward them, but Brainless and Earworms had already started making the path for it to follow. They were carving out the earth as fast as they could.

It was on Katara now to make sure this worked.

She breathed deeply, and she let her ki flow through her, and she swung her arms out fluidly. The water responded. It moved with her arms, rushing into a smoother path. She tried her best not to spill a drop, but there was only so much she could do.

The water hit the building and gushed through its slid open door. It wasn’t in her power as it stood to guide it to each room, but she didn’t have to. It was flooding the laboratory just as they’d planned.

“You’re doing it!” Sokka said giddily.

“That’s our girl!” Aang said. “I mean, uh, good job!”

The Freedom Fighters crowed in excitement, whooping and hollering and jumping up and down.

But Azula said nothing. She had been unnervingly quiet since she’d volunteered to go look for survivors. Pale, too.

“What’s wrong, Hanabi?” Katara asked.

“Yeah, we won. What could be wrong?” Jet asked.

“Guys, she’s probably just freaked out by the experiments,” Aang said, offering a supportive hand to Azula’s shoulder.

She shook him off of her. “Don’t touch me, but yes. It was… disturbing. I never knew that they… that my people were doing that.” Her voice sounded far away. Like she was somewhere else entirely.

It wasn’t that Katara didn’t agree with Azula’s assessment of the laboratory, but she didn’t think that was all there was to it. She’d been pale for longer than she’d known what the Empire of Fire was doing to those poor people. Since they’d first said they were going to flood the lab.

Katara had to find out what exactly was wrong. Now just wasn’t the time.

---

They were having a feast. Except Aang wasn’t part of that feast. Not since he’d seen Jet and Katara kissing. It wasn’t that he was unwelcome; it was just that he felt like his insides were falling out when he saw that. He knew that he’d kissed Natsuki back, but that didn’t mean he felt nothing for Katara. If anything, he was sure now more than ever that he liked Katara. Natsuki had been sweet and charming, and he’d made Aang feel safe, but Katara made him feel alive.

Seeing her with someone else confirmed it for him.

He’d definitely blown any chance of her liking him back, though. And now she was kissing Jet.

Sokka had left the feast, too, but he was babbling about how Jet had some nerve “sucking faces” with his sister. Aang didn’t want to hear even more about how Jet and Katara liked each other now, and he definitely didn’t want to listen to Sokka crush his fantasy about his dream girl even further with the reminder that as Sokka’s friend, he wasn’t allowed to want her the way he did.

Momo, on the other hand, was still gorging himself on the Freedom Fighters’ food.

So he was moping around outside the dining treehouse, hunched over and seated on the edge of the walkway.

The sky was dark, but the moon was bright. It reminded him of Katara. Sure, he’d always thought she looked like the sun, but she was connected to the moon in the way that only waterbenders were. Tui was a part of her, so Aang saw her in it.

He sighed. He didn’t have any right to be sad. Not after they’d freed those people from the laboratory and connected them with some rebel medics Jet knew. By all means, their mission had been a success. They’d won a battle in the war against the Empire of Fire.

But he was miserable.

He could hear light footsteps approaching him.

“What?” he asked

“Sokka is annoying me, and Katara is no better,” Azula’s voice said. She sat down next to him on the edge.

He sniffed. “You’ve been calling us by our names.”

Her spine stiffened. The tension in her body was tight. She always got like that. It was strange to watch how someone could be so ready to be criticized. That was what Aang thought it was, at least. He had no idea really.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said.

“What are you so upset about, airbender?” she asked. It was a weak redirection, but Aang was mopey enough to fall for it. Even when she didn’t call him by his name.

“Katara,” he said.

“What about her?” Azula asked. She scoffed slightly, but she was honestly confused by his reaction. He could see it in her eyes. She was a good liar; she was awful with people, though. She lacked social skills almost completely.

He couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

“What’s so funny, arrowhead?” She shoved him, but not hard enough to knock him down or anything. It felt almost playful. Or it would have if Azula didn’t look so affronted.

“We’re regressing,” Aang said. “I thought you were past saying slurs.”

She glared at him.

“Okay, okay. We’ll circle back to your racism. It’s just… I like Katara,” he said.

Azula blinked at him. “Of course you do. She’s your little co-conspirator with this kidnapping thing.”

He slapped a hand over her mouth. “Shh, keep it down. And, uh, I mean I like-like Katara.”

Confusion spread across Azula’s face. She removed Aang’s hand from her mouth. “I thought you were… interested in more illegal couplings.”

Again, he laughed. She could be really funny when she wasn’t trying to be. “I mean, I like boys, yeah, but I like girls, too. The monks always said that love didn’t have to have a gender. And what do you mean illegal?”

“Same-sex tendencies have been outlawed since Avatar Roku died,” Azula said slowly. “That was before you were born. Surely, you know this?”

“Oh. Right. My friend Kuzon mentioned that… I guess I hoped your people had realized that was strange by now,” Aang said, his mouth curled into a frown.

“You’re strange,” she snapped. “Such couplings produce no offspring. They’re fruitless. Only an inferior nation would—”

“What about love?”

She looked startled by that. “What?”

“What about love? I mean, yeah, you can’t always have kids when your partner is the same gender as you, but what about love? Some people can’t fall in love with the opposite gender. Shouldn’t they get to be with someone they love, too?” Aang asked.

Azula said nothing for a long moment. “Love isn’t the point. Marriage is about alliance. It’s purely political.”

“That’s a horrible way to live.”

“What would you know? Love is futile anyway.”

Aang stared at her, stunned. “Why do you think that, Princess Azula?”

“Because I have a brain. And don’t call me that here.” With that, she was gone.

---

Azula was sulking somewhere outside. Katara had seen her slip out during the feast, but she still wasn’t back to their room. There was no way she could sleep well if she knew Azula wasn’t safely in bed. As awful as she could be, she was the avatar. They needed her.

They just also needed her to change everything about herself.

Katara sighed. It was her duty to bring the avatar, who she hated, back into their shared room. She ventured out onto the treetops, and she zipped from one landing to the next until she stumbled upon Azula, sitting on the ledge. She looked completely comfortable like that, but it made Katara nervous.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“Meditating,” Azula said dully.

It didn’t seem to be true. Katara had seen Azula meditate. It had never looked so sloppy in terms of form. Azula had her legs almost carelessly sprawled out. She wasn’t the type to hold her own body so lazily.

“Your form sucks,” Katara quipped.

Azula only hummed in response.

There was no point in beating around the bush now. Azula wouldn’t have. Katara thought it was only right to reciprocate that behavior.  “What bothered you so much about flooding that lab?”

Azula tensed. Her limbs assorted themselves into a position that was cleaner. More put together.

“We didn’t confirm any kills. And we saved three people from being tortured by those physicians. That’s gotta count for something,” Katara said.

“It’s not that I feel guilty,” Azula snapped. “Believe it or not, I found those experiments to be reprehensible.”

“Then what is it? Because from the moment that Jet said we were flooding them, you got weird! And I know the Empire of Fire has gotten a tsunami or two before, but I don’t think you’re afraid of that. I mean, is the Imperial Palace even anywhere close to the shore? I just—”

“Fine! I hate water!” Azula said.

Katara glanced around. No one seemed to be nearby. “Is it because you’re a firebender?” she asked.

“Being a firebender saved my life.” It was something, but only just.

“What? You can’t talk in riddles,” Katara huffed.

Azula rolled her eyes and picked herself up from the ledge. “I can, and I will. It’s not like you need to know all my family secrets.” And then she was gone. She left Katara alone in the dark.

---

Hidden away on the other side of the treehouse, Jet waited with baited breath as Katara walked over to the zipline to head back to her room. So Hanabi was a firebender after all. Worse, she was from the Imperial Palace.

That could only mean one thing: Hanabi was Princess Azula.

He’d been right. She was familiar. He hadn’t seen a portrait of Azula since he’d been nine, and back then she’d been eight, but he had seen her portrait before. Back then, it had just become the mandate for colonized territories to put up a portrait of the Imperial House of Fire in every home.

He wanted to be absolutely sure before he acted, though. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted this to be a case of mistaken identity; there was still the faintest possibility that Hanabi had been a servant in the palace and he had it all wrong.

---

Morning came. Jet ate breakfast with his Freedom Fighters and their new friends like nothing was wrong. But when it was over, when Katara dragged Hanabi off to help them take care of Appa, he sneaked away from the other Freedom Fighters. He slipped into the girls’ room, and he dug through Hanabi’s belongings. He pulled out a calligraphy set and an unreasonable amount of Empire of Fire money and—a red nagajuban. There was no way she could have afforded something like that if she was a simple servant. Angry now, he kept digging until he found a diadem. It was solid gold and held the shape of a flame. The insignia of the Empire of Fire.

Jet gripped it tightly. He had to stow it back away with Azula’s things. Azula. She was Princess Azula, that awful girl. Set to inherit the Dragon Throne.

So she had been sympathizing with those bastard physicians.

Was she tricking Aang, Katara, and Sokka? She could have told them anything. But Katara had known she had lived in the palace. What did someone like Katara have to gain from hiding the identity of Princess Azula from him, though? 

There was no way that she, Aang, or Sokka were on the side of the Empire of Fire. They were like him and the Freedom Fighters. Aang was an airbender, and Sokka and Katara were from the South Pole. Their people had lost everything.

Jet had to act, and he had to act fast. For all of their sake.

---

Azula was deeply unhappy. The kind of unhappiness that settled into her very bones and cast a dark cloud over her. It wasn’t new for her to feel this way, especially not since she’d been kidnapped on her birthday. But it was more profound than was usual at this point.

Jet had mandated group training which meant that Azula had to play with Mai’s knife again. Worse, it meant that Azula had to spend time with the very people who had put her in such a sour mood. She didn’t know what to feel or think or do.

So she chose to follow the order she had been given, even if she did not believe in the so-called authority from which it had come. Alongside Katara, Aang, Sokka, and the ever irritating Freedom Fighters, Azula followed Jet deeper into the wilderness until they reached a clearing.

“So what drills are we doing?” Katara asked. “Or is it kind of a do as you please situation?”

Jet didn’t answer her. He only said, “Pipsqueak, Mammoth.” 

In response, the two largest members of the Freedom Fighters grabbed Azula by the arms, restraining her to the best of their ability.

She relaxed in their vice grips immediately. They wouldn’t be hard to overpower and outmaneuver, she knew that. Still, it was best to give them the appearance of control over her.

“What are you doing, you jerk?” Sokka demanded.

“Let Hanabi go!” Aang said, wielding his staff.

“You mean Azula?” Jet asked as Bugs, Smellerbee, and Longshot restrained Sokka, Katara, and Aang respectively. Jet was approaching Azula, his tigerheads out. “Yeah, hound cat’s out of the bag, Princess. I found your diadem.”

Azula clicked her tongue. “You went through my things? How uncouth.”

“You’re Princess Azula of the Imperial House of Fire. You’ve been lying to us all, pretending to be one of us when you’re inheriting the Dragon Throne. You deserve so much worse than me being rude to you,” he said, pushing one of his blades into her throat.

She tilted her head up. “Is that so?”

“Leave her alone! She didn’t lie to us!” Sokka said.

“Azula is our friend!” Aang said. It didn’t sound entirely convincing from his mouth, but he said it nonetheless.

Lurid eyes rolled. Azula was not in the mood for their frivolousness. With fire lacing her veins, she kicked her leg all the way up, folding it over her body and connecting a flame laden foot to Mammoth’s face.

The bigger girl went staggering back as Azula rotated her hips to send a second kick into Pipsqueak’s shoulders.

“Fuck! Get her!” Jet said, readying his tigerheads to slice through her once she was still.

But Azula was faster. She cartwheeled back through the gap that Mammoth and Pipsqueak had left her, and she moved fluidly into a lightningbending kata. Only her head wouldn’t clear itself even if her ki was split.

Jet was coming at her with those tigerheads, and if she couldn’t clear her head, she might really die. It was too late to move into a firebending kata. There was only the movement of her arms. The feeling of her pulse in her head.

The memory of being a child, playing oshikura manju in the Imperial Garden with her brother and Asahi and Ty Lee and Mai. Huddled up in the greenery, chanting and singing, trying to get each other out of the circle, feeling completely at ease. Feeling free.

Azula felt the air bend at her fingertips until it was a vortex, a whirlwind enclosing Jet’s head.

There were voices all around, all disbelieving at her airbending. Azula didn’t care. She could hardly hear them over the feeling of absolute bliss that had washed over her.

Jet was clawing at the air vortex surrounding his head. He couldn’t breathe.

Azula smiled. She was pulling the air from him; it was the oxygen he had been breathing that was making the vortex now.

There was a horrible scream. A shriek really. It came from Aang.

Her eyes darted over to where he stood, no longer in Longshot’s grasp. They were all too stunned to move toward her—or too afraid. But Aang took a step closer. “Azula, please don’t do this. Don’t kill him. Not with airbending! All life is sacred, and everyone deserves a second chance. Even Jet! Even you!”

Her wrists went limp. The air stopped bending to her will. “I spare you today not out of kindness, but out of pity. Aang might believe that your life is sacred, Jet, but as I see it, it’s simply unbecoming of the avatar, of a princess of the Imperial House of Fire, to waste her energy killing someone like you. I am equal parts Amaterasu’s daughter and avatar. You would do well not to forget that. We’ll be taking our leave now.”

Katara wasn’t looking at her. Neither was Sokka.

Aang was the worst of all, though. He was looking at her with trembling dark eyes and tears all down his cheeks.

“At least we don’t have to worry about Aang saying he’s the avatar anymore.”

Notes:

additional cws: human experimentation, gore, rape mention

translation + cultural notes:
- oshikura manju is a singing children's game in japanese culture. it works pretty much how i explained it

up next: team avatar comes to an understanding and team zuko makes some unpleasant discoveries

Chapter 12: rLung (Book One: Air)

Notes:

this is like a crazy short chapter (again! sorry about that), but next chapter will be much, much longer

Another meal was being wasted on Zuko. With the way he was abstaining from eating so he could eavesdrop on the nearby soldiers, Mai wished he hadn’t wasted any of their time ordering anything at all. It wasn’t like the soldiers could help them with their mission either, even if they were from the Great Empire of Fire. They couldn’t know that Azula was the avatar, let alone that she was running around with a bunch of water and air peasants. Even if she had been taken against her will, Fire Emperor Ozai had made clear that it was on a need to know basis. The only people who needed to know were those who already knew.

Mai narrowed her eyes at Zuko, who was picking at his food vaguely.

“You shouldn’t play with your food,” Iroh said jovially.

“I’m not playing with it. I’m not some child, Oji-sama,” Zuko said. His temper was always blazing these days. It hadn’t been all that great when they’d been kids either, but Mai thought it was considerably worse now. He hadn’t used to snap at his uncle, at least.

“What are you doing then?” Mai asked. Her voice came out duller than a practice blade.

Zuko glared at her. She was unfazed by the act, bringing another bite of her rice to her mouth with metal chopsticks.

“I’m gathering intel,” he whispered. At least, Mai thought it was his rendition of a whisper. “Shut up, so I can listen.”

Mai scoffed but said nothing else.

Iroh merely smiled and returned to his meal.

The voices of the soldiers carried over to them as one asked, “Did you hear about that New Azulon hospital?”

“The one that got flooded? Shit, where was that?”

“It was by Keiju Dam. My buddy was one of their physicians. He was out getting supplies when it burst, though.”

Mai watched as Iroh’s face went blank. It was the kind of languor that put her best efforts to shame. But his eyes, as gold as Azula’s, as gold as Fire Emperor Ozai’s, were horribly bright.

“Thank fuck. Those scummy orphans blew it up to flood the hospital, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, it looked like they had benders helping them out.”

“Are some of those kindling benders themselves?”

“They’ve got some earthbenders and firebenders, believe it or not.”

“No way.”

“I shit you not, Kenta.”

“I heard the water moved funny, though. One of the witnesses seemed convinced they had a waterbender helping them this time.”

Mai set her chopsticks down. That girl she’d fought at the Fire Temple had been a waterbender. She was with Azula, had kidnapped the princess. Was it possible she’d resorted to terrorism?

“Shit… We’ve gotta kill them.”

“Put them out of their damn misery.”

“What do you think the odds are that Azula’s new friends were involved?” Zuko asked. His jaw was tense, and if his chopsticks had been wooden, Mai thought they would’ve snapped in half.

“They’re low, Zuko,” Mai snapped. “Azula is no traitor. She would never allow anyone to target our physicians.”

“Ah, speaking of physicians, I think I need to get one. My back has been killing me,” Iroh said. He was smiling again. The sight was not as comforting as it once would’ve been. Not with how sudden the smile seemed to seize his face.

Zuko picked then to burst at the seams. He got up in a fit and said, far too loudly, “If Azula doesn’t drown them first. She’s a traitor now, Mai. She’s scum! Anyone who would flood a building full of physicians is scum!”

“Hey, brat, were you eavesdropping?” one of the soldiers demanded.

“No, my friend is just very strange. There’s something deeply wrong with him,” Mai said, grabbing Zuko to pull him back down.

The soldiers were unmoved by her words.

“Wait, is that Prince Iroh?” another soldier asked.

“You’ve caught me,” Iroh said.

The soldiers bowed, but it was not nearly as low as Iroh’s title warranted. Mai readied herself for the blow.

“Then this must be His Imperial Highness, Prince Zuko.” Cruelty lined each word.

If Zuko noticed, he didn’t comment as he drew himself to his full height. Mai didn’t think his full height was all that impressive as he was about as tall as her, but she wasn’t going to tell him that now. “You’re right. I am Prince Zuko,” he said.

The soldiers rang with laughter as they slapped each other’s shoulders and wiped away imaginary tears from their eyes. “Oh, that’s good,” one of them said.

“He really thinks he’s still a prince,” another said.

“The girl was right: There is something wrong with him.”

Mai said nothing. She didn’t know what she could possibly say to defend Zuko. She didn’t know why she would want to defend him. It was the truth, whether he was ready to hear it or not.

Iroh took a step forward though, his face growing serious. “No matter what my honorable brother has said, Prince Zuko is his firstborn son. That birthright cannot be stolen from him. He is your prince, soon to be crown prince, and you will bow to him.”

The soldiers stopped laughing.

Mai exhaled.

No matter what anyone said or did or wanted, Iroh was still a prince of the Imperial House of Fire in the end.

---

Before she’d tried to kill Jet, Aang had been so sure that Azula was making real progress. He had to remember that now more than ever. Whatever she’d said in the direct aftermath of her airbending assassination attempt, Aang believed that Azula was salvageable. He could pull that good thing that he’d seen a glimmer of out of her once more. He had to believe that.

It had to be true.

“Princess Azula, you told me once that you grew up with the way of the spirits and the Zen school, right?” Aang asked.

“You’re talking to me now,” Azula said. It wasn’t a question. It was an observation.

It was true that Aang (and Katara and Sokka) had been avoiding speaking to Azula since she’d almost killed Jet in cold blood. It had been a day, and even Appa seemed to sense that something was different. Wrong. He had tensed up when Azula had approached him like he was afraid she would hurt him.

“I just needed some time to think first,” he said.

“About?” She raised an eyebrow, prompting him to say more.

Aang took a deep breath. “How to fix this.”

She laughed. “What’s there to fix?”

“Everything.” He wasn’t joking. He didn’t think there was anything funny about the desecration of his culture, already twice murdered by her people.

Her face smoothed into something more serious. The mockery left her eyes. “And how are you going to fix everything?” She sounded genuinely curious. It made something in him hopeful that she was going to try. She had been trying—he was so sure of it.

“I’m going to teach you a few things. First, the Dharma of the insiders,” he said. He was smiling even though it hurt to do so. “We’ll start with the concept of rLung, which is kind of like ki!”

“What, pray tell, is rLung?” Azula asked. Her eyebrow was arched, but it wasn’t overtly hostile looking the way it might have been before.

Aang sat down and assumed a meditative position. He gestured for Azula to follow suit. With only a mildly objective expression, she did.

“rLung is… its the flow of energy throughout the elements. It’s definitely most closely connected to air, though—but not like the air we breathe or bend? If that makes sense… It’s more than that, Princess Azula. 

“It’s… it’s like Appa. And your mind is the thing that’s riding Appa—us! If something was wrong with Appa, we couldn’t ride him. rLung is a living, breathing thing, too. It’s hot, and it’s cold; it’s thin and movable; light and rough…” He cracked an eye open to steal a look at Azula.

Her eyes were closed. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. “It lives in dichotomies.”

“Yeah! You can say that! It also, um, well it’s used in medicine. So it can help us grow and nurture us, too! But Gyatso always said that its most important function is that it carries the movement of mind, speech, and body,” Aang said.

“I see…” she said, “but what’s the point of telling me this, airbender?”

“We’ll get to that. Next, you’re going to learn about the Southern Air Nomads. I know you were taught that we’re all part of the Air Nation, but that’s not true. Our cultures are similar, yes, but they aren’t the same.”

“How so?” She didn’t look as uninterested as he had expected. It almost felt sincere. Aang wasn’t ready to trust her so easily, but he wasn’t going to count her out. She’d tried to kill Jet, but she’d stopped when he’d asked her to. That had to mean something.

“What were you taught about the Air Nation?” It would help to know what kind of propaganda he was up against.

Azula’s already straight spine grew straighter. She lifted her chin and spoke as if she was reciting from a textbook, “The Air Nation was formed in the Imperial Year 126 at the suggestion of Avatar Reyansh as a solution for the declining populations of the Hava Empire, the Kingdom of Air, and the Air States after over a century of wars.

“The rulers of these countries decided who would sit on the throne of the Air Nation with a competition; at dawn, they sat on their ostrich horses and waited for the first one to cry out. After King Ngawang cheated by essentially molesting his ostrich horse to stimulate its cries with the scent of its genitals on his hand, it was decided that the Wangchuck dynasty would be the first to rule the Air Nation.

“They practiced several religions, most prominently Hinduism and several schools of Buddhism, hence their prominent Air Temples in the north, south, west, and east.

“They were riddled with poverty and multiple plagues leading up to their surprise attack on the Great Empire of Fire in the Imperial Year 2396.

“However, their military was incredibly disciplined and lethal in battle due to the three countries that became the Air Nation’s combined military wisdom. The Air Nation Army was their military’s pride and joy. Do you want me to recite what I was taught of their military strategies and training as well?”

He frowned. “A lot of that is accurate. Give or take some creative liberties your teachers took… What were you taught about the Air Nomads?”

Her shoulders sank ever so slightly. “Nothing,” she said. “They don’t exist in the Great Empire of Fire’s records. But… you insist that they were pacifistic people who were murdered by my nation.”

“That’s right,” he said. “There’s a reason your people didn’t teach you about mine, Princess Azula. If they hadn’t erased the history of the nomadic airbender monks and nuns, you would all know that what they did at the Air Temples was genocide.

“Our bending style is evasive, not combative, but my people weren’t unwilling to defend themselves if they had to—when I went to the Southern Air Temple, I saw that Gyatso and Nyima and everyone fought back. But we didn’t have an army. They were massacred. It was a genocide. Your great grandfather… He murdered everyone I loved.”

She said nothing. She only stared at him, her eyes bright and unreadable.

“I don’t think I have to tell you how much it hurts. You might not understand it yourself, but you aren’t blind to it. It’s challenging everything you thought you knew, isn’t it?”

Still, Azula was silent.

Aang didn’t back down. “It can’t be easy to be asked to question everything you were taught to believe. I know it wasn’t easy to be told what your nation did to my people. It felt like… suddenly, everything I knew was wrong. And I couldn’t accept it at first. But I got there, and I think you will, too.”

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“Can I ask you something, Princess Azula?”

“What is it?”

“Are you angry? Is that why you tried to kill Jet?”

Her throat bobbed. Her hands metamorphosed into fists. “I’m supposed to be.”

He smiled, watery and tender like a wound. “But that doesn’t mean you are.”

---

Yihwa was still in bad shape. They’d gotten her to some rebel medics, but there was only so much that could be done without waterbending. Especially when they were with patients in even worse shape than Yihwa. Suki wasn’t thrilled by it, but she understood why her youngest Kyoshi Warrior was a lesser priority to these medics.

There were survivors of one of the Empire of Fire experiments to look out for, after all. Who was Suki to begrudge them the care they needed? It would rattle the identity she’d built for the Kyoshi Warriors and betray her own morals to so much as conceptualize resenting these people for being the first priority of the earthbender and nonbender medics.

All Suki could do was try to help them in any way possible—and pray that they spent more time supervising the healing process of Yihwa’s make-do stitches. So she and the other Kyoshi Warriors did jus that

“What we really need, though, Sook, is a waterbender,” Chae-won was saying.

“Everyone knows that,” Bongseon said softly. “Where are we supposed to get one, though? They aren’t exactly in abundance in earthbender country.”

Nabi tapped a finger to her lips. “What about in Đất Nam? Don’t they have waterbenders there?”

“It’s illegal,” Ha-yoon said. She was hugging her own shoulders. “Face it: There’s nothing any of us can really do for Yihwa.”

“That’s not true! We gave her the stitches!” Chae-won said.

“But we’ve helped her all we can,” Ye-rin said. She was rocking herself back and forth as she often did when she was anxious.

Suki buried her face in her hands. “If we could just find a waterbender to make sure she heals right…”

“I know, Sook,” Bongseon said.

They all knew.

---

Meditation had failed to clear Azula’s head. Firebending had failed to cleanse her ki. She was at a boiling point, and there was no ignoring it anymore. It was with this in mind that Azula got up off the grass and marched over to where Aang, Katara, and Sokka were brushing Appa. She cleared her throat.

They stopped to look at her. Aang was still the only one who had spoken to her since she’d airbent. Katara and Sokka both looked horribly nervous to even be laying eyes on her.

She said, “The three of you have monologued at me about your cultures an absurd amount since kidnapping me. I believe it’s my turn to return the favor.

“I am the sole princess of the Imperial House of Fire. My mother is dead. My uncle’s children are dead. There is no one else in the world who can truly understand the weight of my duties as a princess of the Great Empire of Fire, let alone as the only viable heir to the Dragon Throne.

“At three, I began seeing private tutors. At seven, I began attending the Imperial Fire Academy for Girls, from which I am set to graduate in the Month of New Life next year. At fifteen, I am to undergo genpuku and be named crown princess.

“In the Fire Temple, Avatar Roku described the legacy I have inherited as one of horror. He is not so wrong to say this. You see, my family tree is one watered by blood. Good has never been good enough. I have to be excellent. Prodigious. Nothing that I have ever had was given to me; everything has been earned through flames. Even my name is not my own—I was named for my grandfather, Fire Emperor Azulon.

“Where my pathetic excuse of a brother was allowed to fail with minimal repercussions, I was given no choice but to be the best my nation has to offer. My nation asks me to—no, needs me to be violent. I must be the best soldier on the field at all times. Otherwise, I will never be able to lead us to peace.

“Whatever the price is to live up to the expectations placed on me, I will pay it. I have sacrificed everything for my nation. I will sacrifice myself for my nation if I must. I bleed for them; I die for them. That is what it means to be a princess of the Great Empire of Fire! I exist for my country only! There is no other option! There is nothing else my honorable father will accept from me! So tell me how I can possibly be anything but what I was bred to be! Tell me how I can do anything but fight for my people and believe them to be just! What other choice could I possibly have!?” She was breathing heavily. Her chest heaved, and her face burned, and her inner flame was painfully bright in a way it hadn’t been since she was very small.

Sokka snickered.

Before Azula knew it, they were all laughing at her, red-faced and winded from the effort.

“What!? What could possibly be funny right now!?” she demanded.

“It’s not you or your culture or anything—that’s actually kinda terrifying,” Sokka said between wheezes.

She grit her teeth. “Then what are you fools laughing at?”

“Momo—he’s on your head, mimicking you,” Katara said, trying to contain her laughter. “Sorry, sorry, I’m trying not to laugh. Your childhood isn’t funny. It’s—oh, Tui and La—really sad actually.”

With a sharp inhale, Azula plucked Momo off of her head. She hadn’t felt him land on her at all; she’d been burning too much to have noticed. Holding him disdainfully, she said, “You have the worst manners of anyone I’ve ever met. Even Zuzu is better than you. How dare you interrupt a princess while she speaks.”

Aang doubled over as his, Katara’s, and Sokka’s laughter grew tenfold. “You’re really funny, Princess Azula,” he managed.

“Who would’ve guessed?” Katara asked.

As humiliating as this was, they were all looking at her again. The eggshells they’d been tiptoeing over were gone.

It was relieving in a way it shouldn’t have been.

She sharpened her eyes. “Certainly not the people holding me hostage as a political prisoner. Honestly, you’re no better than what you say my family is.”

The laughter died then.

“Princess Azula, you don’t mean that,” Aang said.

“I do.”

Sokka looked angry.

Katara looked angrier. “If we aren’t who your loyalty lies with, you’re free to leave whenever you want! I don’t know if you noticed, but we don’t like you, and we’d be better off without you anyway! You’re the worst avatar we could’ve asked for! We’ll figure something out without you!”

Azula’s throat was very tight. There it was: the permission to leave she’d so desperately wanted. But she felt like a deer dog caught in a forest fire. Still, she forced her legs to carry her away from them all, even as Aang called out after her.

---

Watching Iroh talk to Zuko left a bad taste in Mai’s mouth. She waited until Zuko was gone, off to attempt meditation (and fail). Then, knowing Iroh would let her speak her mind, she said, “You keep calling him Prince Zuko, but he hasn’t been a prince in two years. Why feed into his delusions about who he is now? It goes against Fire Emperor Ozai.”

Iroh looked at her sadly. “Protecting Zuko’s heart matters more to me than protecting my own life. Especially when my honorable brother has already deemed me traitorous. He wouldn’t be interested in killing me over something as frivolous as letting Zuko hold onto a title he’s lost; if Fire Emperor Ozai wanted me dead, I would be dead by now, Mai-chan.”

She didn’t know what to make of that.

Iroh broke out into a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Besides, aren’t you planning on restoring my honorable nephew’s title when you capture Princess Azula?”

“That’s different,” she said.

“I know.” He sighed. “I doubt Princess Azula would be happy with Zuko having his title restored.”

“Azula is never happy,” she said.

“Finally, something she and Zuko have in common.” He chuckled lightly at his own joke.

Mai scowled. She didn’t find it funny at all. Not when Iroh had never been willing to consider Zuko and Azula the way Mai had: as two sides of the same coin.

“You’ve always been a tough crowd, haven’t you?” Iroh asked.

“Maybe you just aren’t very funny.” She forced a smile.

He laughed, jovial as ever.

---

For the first time in her life, Azula had no plan. She was still walking away from her former captors, aimless and overflowing with a doubt she wanted to lathe herself clean of. It had been pressing down on her for longer than she cared to admit.

Azula came to a stop. She couldn’t hear Aang calling after her anymore, and she knew that the last thing Katara wanted was to come find her. It wasn’t as if Sokka had particularly liked her either. She was alone. There was nowhere to go but home.

Only Azula couldn’t go home. Not after all the time she’d spent away, not trying to find her way back to her father. Not when she could not look him in the eye and tell him she was his pious daughter, their nation’s loyal princess.

She inhaled deeply. And then she sat, letting the grass stain her kimono. She closed her eyes.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

There was no response.

“Tell me what to do,” she said once more. “Please.” It became a chant. A mantra. She steadied her breathing. She tracked the movement of her ki within her. She thought of what Aang had told her of rLung. She felt it carry the movements of her mind, of her speech, of her body.

“Avatar Azula, you called upon us.” It was Avatar Roku’s voice. Only, it wasn’t just Avatar Roku. There were three other voices. Azula had never heard them before, but she knew somehow, deep in her bones, that it was the other three from Avatar Roku’s cycle: Avatar Yangchen, Avatar Kuruk, and Avatar Kyoshi.

“You answered,” Azula said.

“We did. Avatar Nyima, Avatar Mikilaaq, and Avatar Chiê'n do not have the wisdom you need, Avatar Azula,” Avatar Yangchen said.

“Don’t call me that.”

Avatar Yangchen chuckled. “It is who you are.”

“Enough of this! Are we going to coddle her? She’s completely rejected her duties as the avatar; she’s considering going back to the Empire of Fire!” Avatar Kyoshi was glaring at Azula.

“This is not the entire truth, Avatar Kyoshi. Avatar Azula is young, and she is misguided, but if she were to look within her heart, I believe she would find that she does not wish to return to her father,” Avatar Yangchen said.

“Yes. While she does not yet understand the importance of her duties and legacy as the avatar, I believe there is good in her heart,” Avatar Roku said. “She may succeed where I failed.”

“But she will only succeed if she confronts the reality of her family’s legacy. Avatar Azula, do you have the strength to see what your family has truly done to the world?” Avatar Kuruk asked.

Azula’s brow was furrowed. “Like the laboratory.”

“And the genocides of the Southern Water People, the Air Nomads, and the Air Nation,” Avatar Kuruk said.

Whatever denial she might have given before, she could not find it anymore.

“You need to do the right thing,” Avatar Kyoshi said. “The avatar’s duty is to restore balance to the world, not to tear it apart! Going back to your father would be a grave mistake!”

“But my duties as a princess—”

Avatar Yangchen shook her head. “Are those the duties you believe are right?”

Azula bowed her head.

“You owe it to our people to reform our nation,” Avatar Roku said “You know this. I know you do.”

“Princess Azula! Where are you!?” A familiar voice cut through her meditative state.

Gold eyes burst open in time to catch sight of the sky bison flying overhead with its usual riders. They were looking for her.

“There she is!” Sokka said.

Azula blinked slowly as Appa descended.

Aang floated down from Appa’s saddle and began babbling immediately. “Katara didn’t mean what she said—I mean, of course you’re free to go, and you are really difficult, but—”

“It took you long enough,” she said simply.

“What now?” Sokka asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve decided that it would be best if you were not my kidnappers, but my… tentative allies. At least for now.”

“So you’ll join us?” Sokka asked.

“No, I will ally myself with you until further notice,” she said.

Katara was staring at her like she would disappear. “But you’re on our side, right?” She spoke slowly. She looked desperate to believe it.

“You could say that.”

“I knew you’d come around!” Aang said, bouncing up and down in the way only an airbender could. “I can’t wait to finally get to really teach you to airbend! We have so much work to do—I mean, you’re a really talented bender, but we have to get you into the mindset of an airbender—”

“Wait, what do you mean until further notice?” Sokka asked.

Azula clicked her tongue impatiently. Nervously. She didn’t know what she meant by that either. She didn’t have a timeline. She didn’t have a plan beyond allying herself with them. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

She watched as a smile overtook Katara and Sokka’s expression.

---

They had to make it official. Sokka wanted something that bound Azula to them all, something to remind her what she was promising them if she joined their team officially. It was only natural that he suggested an initiation ceremony.

“Why?” Azula asked.

“To make you really one of us—think of it as a tradition! You love those,” Sokka said.

She scrunched her nose up at him. “Did any of you do an initiation ceremony?”

“Well, no,” Sokka said.

“But we weren’t evil before!” Katara said.

Aang beamed. “No offense.”

Sokka couldn’t help but laugh at how sincere it was coming from Aang. The boy didn’t have a cruel bone in his body.

“None taken,” Azula said slowly. “What kind of ceremony did you have in mind, Sokka?” Her eyebrow was arched, but she looked more amused than anything else. Sokka might even call it progress.

---

Katara’s waterbending was still sloppy as she fanned out the contents of her waterskin in the air. It was still pretty, though, especially with Aang’s airbending assisting it and turning it into a beautiful backdrop for Azula who was prostrated at the top of a particularly green hill as if she was at the foot of a waterfall.

Sokka took a deep breath. “Princess Azula—can I call you Azula?”

“No,” she said.

He exhaled; it felt like a laugh. Sounded like one, too. He continued on. “All right. Princess Azula, you’re the scariest girl I’ve ever met. You bend blue flames which seems really special—”

“It is.”

“If you’ll stop interrupting the ceremony master, you’re absurdly efficient in missions and in battle. You’re also annoyingly smart. I wish you’d knock it off, especially when you’re using that big brain to betray us. You have a long way to go, but you’re going to get there with us—Team Avatar,” he said.

Azula rolled her eyes, but her mouth looked almost like it was smiling. “As the actual avatar and thus leader of ‘Team Avatar,’ I object to that name.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Sokka said.

Katara and Aang were both snickering, though. It wasn’t that any of them had forgotten what Azula had done to Jet; it was only that it was hard to stay scared of her when she was proving to be so human.

But then came the hard part. Sokka swallowed nothing. His palms felt sweaty as he held the cool metal of his boomerang. “I ask one thing of you, Princess Azula: If you want to join Team Avatar, you have to disavow the Empire of Fire and its crown.”

The snickering stopped.

Azula sucked in a breath. Then: “For the foreseeable future, I no longer serve the Great—the Empire of Fire.” Slowly, she rose from her bow. She swung her arms in the shape of the sun when it was half over the horizon, and out came a beautiful arc of bright blue flames, dancing all around her.

“Whoa…” Aang said.

Sokka pressed the flat side of his boomerang to both of Azula’s shoulders. “By the power vested in me by me, I pronounce you a member of Team Avatar.”

“You’re really one of us now…” Katara said.

“Funny. I don’t feel any different,” Azula said, examining her arms.

They were quiet a long moment, letting the moment wash over them. And then Aang’s stomach growled.

“I’ll get dinner started,” Katara said. “I’m sorry, Aang. I forgot how late it was—”

“You’re not his mother,” Azula said.

Katara’s face burned red. “I know that! It’s not like you’d even know what mothering looked like!” she said.

Sokka winced. They were back to square one.

“You’re right! I wouldn’t! And I certainly don’t want some half-wit fourteen-year-old showing me by trying to do everything herself!” Azula said, getting in Katara’s face.

“I do not do that! Aang and Sokka help out!” Katara snapped.

Azula rolled her eyes. “When prompted. Clearly, you’ve appointed yourself team mom when you couldn’t be less capable of—”

Sokka held out a hand. “Wait a minute. Princess Azula, is this your weird, backward way of being worried about Katara?”

“Wh—no! Of course not!” Azula said.

He laughed. “You totally are!”

“It’s kind of sweet…” Aang said.

“Or it would be if she wasn’t so herself about it,” Sokka said between heaps of laughter.

Katara’s face was still red, but she was laughing, too.

Aang pouted at them both. “Guys! We shouldn’t make fun of Princess Azula when she’s being vulnerable with us!”

“I wasn’t being vulnerable!” Azula snapped. “I don’t care about any of you!”

“No, you’re way too late. We’re growing on you. No wonder you didn’t actually run away,” Sokka said. There was no way he was going to let go of this idea, not now that it was planted. He didn’t think any of them would.

---

Zuko was frowning, but he was always frowning. The expression was etched into his face. That day, Mai had caused it. They were sharing a room at a worn-down inn again, and she was cleaning her blades. He had never been good at reading her; he knew that. But there was something in the way she averted her gaze every time Iroh called him Prince Zuko, especially since their encounter with those soldiers. It made his fingertips smoke.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, hardly sparing him a glance.

“Nothing is wrong with me!” he snapped.

Mai raised an eyebrow. She didn’t still the motions of her hands, though. “Whatever you say, Zuko.”

“That’s Prince Zuko to you!” he said. His teeth gnashed through his words.

“Is it?” she asked. Her voice was devoid of any emotion. She said it so calmly and dully that it made his whole chest seize up.

He punched a wall. She didn’t flinch. She never did.

“It is!”

Mai’s face didn’t soften, but it did tense up. “All right. If it means that much to you. But this doesn’t mean I’m going to call you Your Imperial Highness or anything like that.”

Some of the fire left Zuko’s body. “Thank you.” His voice came out all rough and raw.

“I have one condition, though. You have to be less of an asshole to me since I’m helping you reclaim your title in the eyes of your father,” Mai said.

“I haven’t been an asshole to you—”

She glared at him, gripping the blade she was in the process of cleaning so tight that her knuckles whitened.

“I’ll yell at you less,” he said.

“Okay. Prince Zuko it is then.”

---

With their hunger satiated and the orange flames dancing over the logs and sticks they’d piled together, Katara almost thought they were at peace for the night. She was still waiting for the other iceberg to hit, but for now, she forced herself to sit quietly with her companions. Her teammates. She wanted to enjoy this while she could. She wanted to believe that things would get better, that Azula was changing.

Her head kept having to snap up with every branch that broke in the distance and every snore Appa let out. They couldn’t go to bed until after they’d all cleaned up and put out the fire they’d cooked dinner with. She wouldn’t slack off.

“Falling asleep there?” Sokka asked.

“No,” she said. It came out far too quick to sound believable.

Her brother grinned at her, his eyes warm and his mouth lazy. It sent a jolt of irritation through her, so she whacked his arm.

“I know what will wake you,” Azula said.

Aang plopped his face into the palms of his hands. “What’s that, Princess?”

“A story. I’m going to tell you a myth about the daimyo’s wife. There once was a daimyo who extended his cruelty to the citizens of the Gr—of the Empire of Fire to his wife, whom he belittled and battered in private. Displeased with this, a great kirin spirit punished him by cursing his wife to be a phoenix so that she could leave him and fly far, far away. Infuriated, the daimyo clipped her wings to stop her from leaving, but she killed herself through flames to be reborn with the freedom to leave. When she left him, she flew to the Fire Emperor to ask him to kill the daimyo for her,” Azula said, bending the flames into puppets to enact the myth.

Katara watched with wrapt interest, the heaviness of her eyelids waning.

“Uh, that’s kind of dark,” Sokka said.

“It’s the myth used to explain why Fire Emperor Takechiyo executed the daimyo to unite my nation,” Azula said with an unbothered shrug.

Katara made a face. “That’s even darker than your story.”

“It sounds like propaganda, too. I bet there’s some other, not propaganda version of the myth,” Sokka said.

“Shut up. Enjoy my myth or don’t, but do it quietly.” Azula rolled her eyes. She still sounded harsh, but she didn’t sound quite as cruel as she had before.

Aang gathered his knees to his chest, kicking Momo out of his lap in the process. He didn’t even seem to notice. “The phoenix is like you, Princess Azula.”

“That’s absurd,” Azula said. “And anyway, I can’t go to my father to ask him to kill himself to end the war. I would never do that.”

He smiled softly. “I know. That part might be off, but being reborn free sounds like you. Don’t you think so?”

“You sound ridiculous,” Azula said flatly.

“I dunno. I think Aang might be onto something,” Katara said. She rolled her shoulders back and looked up toward the star speckled sky. It was beautiful. Maybe the world was always beautiful at its heart.

Sokka scoffed. “We’ll see about that. You guys wanna hear the story of how I got two fish hooks stuck in my thumb?”

Aang bounced up. “Yes!”

Notes:

additional cws: mentioned bestiality, mentioned domestic violence

up next: old (family) friends appear, team zuko and zhao race to hunt down team avatar, and true faces are revealed

Chapter 13: Reunion (Book One: Air)

Notes:

happy maizula monday! we're at the penultimate chapter of book one now... isn't that exciting?

It was dawn, and the sun was just barely lighting the forest around them. Azula had finally acquiesced to proper airbending lessons with Aang. It was hard for her to mimic the success she’d had before minus the murderous intent laced through it. She managed a few gusts, but that was it.

Aang frowned. “Princess Azula, before, with Jet, what were you thinking about?” He watched as her whole body tensed up like prey facing its predator. His frown deepened.

“Why does that matter?” Azula snapped, defensive as ever. She squeezed her eyes shut. Took a deep breath. Recomposed her face into something more neutral. “I was thinking about a memory, Lama.”

He nodded. “About…?”

“My childhood. I was playing a game with my friends—and Zuzu,” she said. It must have been hard for her to admit.

Still, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the nickname for the prince. “Right. So would you say it was a time when you were truly free?”

“Don’t be stupid! Zuzu was there, and—”

“Okay, you’re not the biggest fan of your brother. Neither am I. But you were playing with your friends, right? And you airbent right after you thought about it?” Aang pressed. He had to. If he was going to make a Master Airbender out of her one day, there was no other choice.

She exhaled sharply. “Yes… Yes, I felt free.”

With a firm nod, he asked, “What have you been thinking of while we’ve been training?”

“I’ve been trying to clear my head,” she said quietly.

“No, that won’t do. You’ve got to remember the feeling of freedom. Airbending isn’t completely detached. I mean, we don’t do the material possession and want thing, but there’s joy in it, too. It’s about freedom of the mind, not just the body,” he said.

“So what? You want me to think about the parts of the Gr—Empire of Fire that I loved? I thought the goal was to radicalize me into rebellion,” Azula said, her arms crossing. Contempt crossed her face.

Aang laughed, half uncomfortable. “I mean, ideally you’ll come around fully on wanting to end the war and return all the land the Empire of Fire has colonized, but to get strong enough for that, you have to get better at airbending. If you have to think about the happy parts of your childhood there to do that, that’s fine. Eventually we’ll replace those memories with ones of you with us!”

She didn’t look convinced by that, but she bit down whatever retort she might have had. It was progress enough.

“Let’s try the form again,” Aang said.

They both took the first stance of the form and ran it from the top. This time, the air proved malleable under Azula’s hands as she glided through the footwork that Aang had taught her.

“Good job, Princess!” He smiled, earnest and open.

She stared at him for a long moment, not like predator or prey. “But it wasn’t perfect,” she said bitterly.

He was taken aback. “No, but it was really good. You’re still learning. I don’t expect you to be perfect at it yet!”

“You should.” A dark expression stretched over Azula’s face. “I’m the avatar. I don’t have room for anything less than perfect. I never have.”

Aang pressed his palm over Azula’s spine. “I think you’re being way too hard on yourself. You’re an amazing bender, and you’ll get the hang of airbending in no time. I mean, your execution of the forms I’ve taught you has been pretty instantly correct so far. It’s just that you need to let yourself be free in your actual control over the air. Killing yourself for perfection will only make it harder. I’m a Master Airbender. I still wouldn’t describe my bending as perfect.” He meant it.

If Azula doubted that, she didn’t say so. She only ran the form again. And again. And again.

Aang made a point of never saying she’d done it perfectly.

---

Her lesson for the day was over. Aang didn’t have the same discipline to his work ethic that she did. It was fine, though. Azula could train on her own, without a bending master to teach her. She could work on her firebending, for which she needed no tutor or master. She was her own master here.

Azula moved to a clearing to start with a warmup. A little show of her firebending as her allies saw it, judging by the way Katara stopped her waterbending practice and Sokka his swordfighting practice to watch. She made a mental note to work with them on their discipline later as she ran through the motions, progressing from warmups to intermediate bending kata to advanced ones with grace.

She was preparing to launch into lightningbending as she moved through her dragon kata, ready to feel the lightning grow in her, move through her, extend out of her. Her ki was splitting, her head was clearing, out of her body, out of her mind. Her head was floating. She was watching herself bend flames, and she would watch herself bend the cold flame.

Until nothing came out of her two extended fingers.

Azula came back to herself in a rush.

“… Was something supposed to happen?” Sokka asked. “I feel like something was supposed to happen.”

“Don’t be a jerk!” Katara said, whacking his arm.

“Yeah, everything else was really cool!” Aang said eagerly.

Azula didn’t care. It was all background noise to her. Her lightningbending wasn’t there. It hadn’t just been a fluke when she’d airbent instead, and it hadn’t just been her kidnappers distracting her when she’d been unable to lightningbend before. They weren’t her kidnappers anymore. They were her allies. And she still couldn’t lightningbend.

“It was supposed to be lightningbending. So was what I did to Jet,” Azula said.

“You can’t lightningbend now, can you?” Aang asked her slowly.

“Do you really need to? Isn’t it more important to work on mastering the other elements?” Katara asked.

Azula’s nails bit into her palms. “You don’t understand.”

“So explain it,” Sokka said as he gave Momo a head scratch.

She inhaled slowly. “My honorable father is the most powerful firebender alive. It won’t matter if I have all four elements on my side if I can’t lightningbend. He’d kill me if I couldn’t match his mastery of firebending.”

It wasn’t the whole truth.

Azula’s inability to lightningbend made her no better than Zuko—pathetic Zuko, weak Zuko, useless Zuko. She might as well be banished, disgraced, and completely dishonored. Not even worth marrying off to further their father’s will by producing some more heirs for their bloodline. To be like Zuko, that was a fate worse than death.

Her allies could never understand that. Not when she was aligning herself with their cause, against her nation. So she didn’t tell them that part.

“Okay, so lightningbending is key to defeating the Empire of Fire then,” Sokka said. “Good to know. How do we fix you not being able to lightningbend?”

“Anymore,” Aang supplemented. How sensitive of him.

It made Azula sneer. “We don’t. I’d need a master. Do any of you know how many firebenders can lightningbend in the first place?”

“Uh, no. We didn’t even know lightningbending was a thing until we met you,” Sokka said.

“Five. There are five living lightningbenders. My honorable father, myself, my aunts, and my pathetic uncle. Susanoo’s technique an art form that has only been passed down to firebenders of the Imperial House of Fire. Although, not everyone in my family has been skilled enough to master it. That bastard Zhao and my dear brother were both too incompetent to have learned it,” Azula said. Her words were bitten to the bone.

Sokka twiddled his thumbs. “… So it would be hard to find one willing to help you.”

“Unless your aunts really like you!” Aang said brightly.

“They like our nation more,” she said. It was a simple truth. One Azula had accepted without even realizing she had accepted it. She was their niece, and they loved her deeply—she knew that. But she also knew that they would not betray their nation for her. Love only ran so deep. Piety came first.

“Is there anyone else who might’ve learned it secretly? Or at least witnessed it close enough to help you?” Katara asked. As stupid as she was being, she was genuinely trying to help.

Azula closed her eyes. “No, Katara, there’s no one else who would know. It would get you dishonored and executed to teach someone outside the Imperial House of Fire Susanoo’s technique. The only people who’ve witnessed it and survived are soldiers for the Empire of Fire. And the only person who might’ve been around either my uncle or father long enough to have learned anything about it is dead.”

---

Zuko was stressed out. After their latest attempt at getting intel, he was pulling at what little hair he had at the top of his otherwise bald scalp. They had to find Azula already. It was embarrassing how long they’d gone since seeing her—it had been almost two full months since he’d last got sight of the avatar in the flesh. He had to find her. He had to bring her to their father’s feet.

“Oigo-kun, please relax. I promise you we will find Princess Azula, and—”

“And what!? She’s with that airbender boy—and the waterbender peasant! She’s probably mastering the elements of air and water as we speak, Oji-sama!” Zuko slammed his fists into his thighs. He was so angry, so boiled over the top that he couldn’t see straight.

“The waterbender isn’t very good, and even Princess Azula won’t have mastered airbending this quickly,” Mai said calmly. She was always speaking rationally like that. It drove Zuko crazy now more than ever.

“You can’t be sure of that!” Zuko said.

Mai rolled her eyes. “Look, no offense, but I’m positive that the waterbender kind of sucks. We’ve seen waterbenders in the Great Empire of Fire. They’re far more impressive than her, and they’re only allowed to waterbend to heal our injured.”

“She’s right,” Iroh said, “but we will still double our efforts to locate Princess Azula. I promise you that.”

“How?” Zuko felt raw in his throat. In the pit of his belly, where his inner flame was quivering on the edge of terrified and angry.

Mai clicked her tongue. “Fire Emperor Ozai gave me access to whatever resources I needed. I told him I only needed you, Prince Zuko. Whatever it takes to find Princess Azula, you have it in you.”

Zuko breathed through her words. He felt them flow through his body like he so often struggled to feel his ki. His inner flame balanced out. He chose to believe her.

---

“Remember when we were heading to the North Pole so Katara could learn to waterbend? I do,” Sokka said thoughtfully from Appa’s back. The wind was pleasantly whipping through their hair and into their faces. The sky was a clear blue, and the sunlight was minimal. Summer was in full bloom. Only Sokka would find something to complain about in weather like this.

“I’m learning to waterbend,” Katara said quickly. She didn’t want to cause any problems when Azula was finally on their side.

Azula picked that moment to laugh, full-belied. It was strange to hear and stranger to see. “Your waterbending is pathetic,” she said when she’d caught her breath.

Katara uncorked her waterskin to splash Azula.

“You have no manners,” Azula said as Katara brought what she could of the water back to the waterskin. “And no skill. Otherwise my phoenix-tail wouldn’t be damp right now.”

Katara had no desire to unpack the way the princess’ mouth curled around that word. Not when Sokka was already complaining on her behalf and there was clearly a fight gearing up between them. So she moved on from that point and picked a different one to argue: “I have no manners when you insult me openly!?”

“It’s not insulting you; it’s criticizing you. Just because you can’t accept that criticism doesn’t mean—”

Aang laughed nervously from the rider’s seat. “Guys, can we not fight? Please…”

“I’m not fighting,” Azula said.

“Yes, you are!” Katara said.

“Yeah, you kind of are, you jerk. Be nicer to Katara,” Sokka said. His arms were crossed. He was steeling his face into something serious and protective. “Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s about time we make our way to the North Pole to make sure Katara can waterbend. Yeah, Azula—”

“Princess Azula,” Azula, Katara, and Aang corrected.

“—is the avatar, but Katara needs to get stronger, too! And so do I for that matter! Neither of us are learning anything new just traveling around the Three Kingdoms of Earth, and Azula—”

Another chorus of “Princess Azula” rang out. Even Momo tilted his head curiously at Sokka.

“—can learn to airbend from Aang anywhere, so I vote we start heading to the North Pole again, which means we should be flying, y’know, north!”

Katara felt her face warming. She didn’t want her big brother to pick fights on her behalf. She didn’t need him to do that for her. She didn’t—

“You’re right,” Azula said simply.

“And another thing—” Sokka said, not hearing her.

“Sokka, she said you’re right,” Katara said, tapping his shoulder.

Sokka paused. He blinked. “She said what?”

“I said you’re right,” Azula said. She shrugged. “I can admit that much.”

“So you agree we should head north?” Aang asked. He looked shrunken in on himself up there alone.

Katara wanted to make him feel better the way he made her feel better, made everyone feel better. She moved up as close as she could to him. She placed her hand on the center of his spine.

He eased into her touch.

“There’s nothing we can do about my ligthningbending,” Azula said. She sounded resentful of that fact, but Katara didn’t move to comfort her.

“Okay. Okay. North it is,” Aang said, nodding.

---

Yōmei was peering over a map of the Three Kingdoms of Earth. Its cartographer was the best the Great Empire of Fire had; he had spent three years making this map for the military. If it wouldn’t help Yōmei hunt down Princess Azula, he didn’t know what would. Other than being allowed to report to his men the identity of their true target.

Nevertheless, such a restriction wouldn’t stop him. He was a fine Captain of the Imperial Navy.

“The avatar’s sky bison was last sighted in New Sozin, but there are rumors, Captain Yōmei, that the avatar and his companions were part of the terrorist attack on Keiju Dam and its neighboring hospital,” his first sergeant, Aisaka, said.

“Which would mean the avatar is traveling around New Azulon,” Yōmei said. He clicked his tongue. “That won’t do. We cannot let him continue running amok in our colonies. It is crucial to the war that we maintain control over the Three Kingdoms of Earth, especially now that we’ve finally won New Azula.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” his subordinates said.

Yōmei cracked his neck loudly. He placed a pin over the map—right over the heart of Keiju Village. “This is our destination. Once we arrive, your orders are to interrogate its inhabitants and find word of the avatar and his companions. Dismissed.”

---

Aang had picked an almost unnaturally beautiful riverside to land them at for the night. There was a small town some ways from the other side of the river that he believed it was best to land Appa away from. They didn’t seem to be out of New Azulon yet, after all.

They had to rest somewhere, though, and Aang had taken them down carefully through the treetops. He hoped no one had seen them with how dark it was getting.

It was as soon as they’d set up their camp for the night that he was proven wrong.

A man was approaching them from a rust-colored house none of them had spotted from the dark sky. He carried a torch with him. “Who goes there?” he called out as his face became clearly visible to them. It was sun-worn with stress lining it but not so deeply that he looked older than perhaps fifty.

“Ah! We promise we mean no trouble! We had no idea anyone lived over here! We were just looking for somewhere to camp out tonight!” Aang was rambling, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it.

The man didn’t seem to notice, though. He froze in his tracks, paling. “Is that—”

“Good evening, Oji-san. You look awfully well for a dead man,” Azula said. Her hands were clasped together behind her back. She sounded almost pleasant, but there was something disdainful underlining her voice.

And then there was what she’d said. “Huh!?” Aang, Sokka, and Katara all said.

Azula ignored them.

The man took a moment to find his voice. “Good evening, Princess Azula. You haven’t changed since I last saw you.”

“So you haven’t heard the news?” she asked, tilting her head.

“You mean of your flames turning blue? I have heard word of that—congratulations, Princess. Such a feat has only been heard of in myths and legends. It is truly impressive of you to have managed it yourself,” he said. There was something almost fond on his face now, but Aang could tell it was tentative.

“Thank you, Oji-san, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” she said.

The man scanned her over, his eyebrows furrowed, then looked to Sokka, Katara, Aang, Momo, and Appa. “Ah, is this the airbender avatar I’ve been hearing rumors of?”

Aang laughed, feeling suddenly sheepish. “About that—”

“I am the avatar,” Azula said.

“Oh, right, she decided we’re telling people that now,” Sokka grumbled to himself. “Instead of, you know, telling us who this old guy she’s calling ‘Oji-san’ is!”

Ignoring his complaints, Azula continued. “You don’t look convinced. I’m happy to provide a demonstration if you so require one.”

The man stared at her for a long moment. Several expressions crossed his face, none of which Aang knew how to interpret beyond his blatant initial disbelief. Then, he turned to Aang. “Is the world damned then?”

“We haven’t quite figured that out yet,” Sokka said.

Katara smacked his arm. “It’s not if we can help it.”

Aang nodded brightly. “Yeah! Princess Azula is a different girl than the one you know, whoever you are! She’s working to be a better person now. I believe in her fully! She used to be my best friend, after all.”

“Very well, I will take your word… My name is Imagawa Jeong Jeong. Please call me Jeong Jeong. I was an Admiral in the Imperial Navy and a friend of Princess Azula’s uncle once, hence her calling me ‘Oji-san,’ but… things have changed since then,” Jeong Jeong said. “I have changed. My loyalty no longer lies with the Empire of Fire or its Imperial House of Fire.”

“Clearly,” Azula said.

“Wait, you were a friend of the Dragon of Death?” Sokka asked, not with the appropriate amount of horror for that title in Aang’s opinion.

“When I was a foolish young man, yes. I regret that deeply now,” Jeong Jeong said.

“But you saw him lightningbend back then, right?” Sokka looked hopeful. Aang felt it, too.

Jeong Jeong looked confused. “Yes, why? Is Princess Azula not already a Master Firebender? With the prodigy she showed as a child…”

“I am,” Azula said haughtily.

Sokka nudged her, though.

“Fine, Sokka. But I’ve been… having trouble with my lightningbending since I was kidnapped by my allies here.”

Jeong Jeong looked wholly confused by that.

“It’s a long story, but we’re friends now! We’re Team Avatar! I’m Aang, by the way.” He bowed politely, and Jeong Jeong bowed back.

(Azula rolled her eyes and grumbled something about not agreeing to that name. Momo pounced on her head, mussing up her phoenix-tail in response.)

“And we were hoping that you could help her royal pain in the ass with getting her lightningbending back since she thinks she needs it to defeat the Fire Emperor,” Sokka said.

“Even though lightningbending seems kind of evil—I mean, we saw the Fire Emperor do it, and that was terrifying,” Katara said.

Azula rolled her eyes. “No bending is evil, Katara,” she said.

“Princess Azula is right. Bending is not evil even if it can be used to meet evil ends,” Jeong Jeong said. “As for your question, I am… familiar with lightningbending, yes. Iroh showed me his kata many times… He taught me as well.”

Azula’s eyes sharpened. “He betrayed the Dragon Throne.”

“Newsflash, Princess: So did you,” Sokka said.

Jeong Jeong was eyeing her suspiciously. “I will… consider helping you. For now, you need not sleep outside. Please, make yourself at home in my home.”

They would have to make do.

---

They were on the right path now. Zuko was sure of that. They’d gotten lucky with their last few leads, all pointing them north. Azula was still in New Azulon, but she seemed to be all too happy to leave it.

“She must be heading to the North Pole. The waterbender she’s traveling with isn’t very good, so she’s probably looking for a Master Waterbender up there,” Mai said.

“Mai-chan is not wrong,” Iroh said unhelpfully.

Zuko buried his head in his arms. That wasn’t good. If Azula was looking to learn waterbending, she had likely already mastered airbending. He could barely deal with an Azula who was a Master Firebender, let alone an Azula who had mastered both firebending and airbending.

His sister was a plague to him. She had always danced circles around him in firebending. It would only get worse now that she could airbend. It would only get even worse if she learned waterbending.

Iroh rubbed between his shoulder blades comfortingly. It helped.

Mai did nothing, though. She just sat on her side of the campsite and stared at them. 

From the space between his elbows, Zuko stared back up at her. It was hard to do without moving his head at all, but he managed it.

“We will find Princess Azula before she masters waterbending,” Iroh said. “The sky bison that she’s traveling on has to stop and rest, after all. Where else could she be going?”

“Any sights worth seeing up north?” Mai asked. Her knees were tucked into her chest. She was picking at her nails. A habit Zuko knew her mother resented, and one he thought she’d let go of.

Iroh perked up at that. “Well, New Azulon is beautiful this time of year. There are many lovely sights: lakes, waterfalls, cities worth visiting, some gorgeous rivers… rivers… like the one that…” He trailed off thoughtfully.

Zuko looked up and twisted around to see a strange expression on Iroh’s face. He’d never seen it on his uncle before.

“Like what rivers, Oji-sama?” he asked.

“Nothing… it’s nothing at all, Oigo-kun.”

Mai frowned. “It’s not nothing. It bothers you.” She had never been the type to speak up freely before Zuko had been banished. Maybe she still wasn’t. Iroh was warm like that. Kind. He made people feel safe.

He made Zuko feel safe.

Iroh sighed deeply. “I suppose I should tell you. Prince Zuko, Mai-chan, do either of you remember Jeong Jeong? I know you were both young when he… when he was declared dead. You may not remember him very well. But he…”

“Declared?” Zuko asked.

Iroh’s eyes closed tightly. His face was tense and more lined than normal. “Yes. Declared.”

“And Admiral Imagawa… What does he have to do with rivers?” Mai asked.

“I believe that Jeong Jeong has been living by Tatsu no Kuchi River in secret for the last four years.”

---

Jeong Jeong, as it turned out, was quite the cook. He began making himself supper when they arrived, and he had no complaints making more food for them. Katara, of course, insisted on helping even though she had never cooked rice before. It wasn’t something they ate in the South Pole, and they hadn’t had rice grains the whole time they’d been traveling. 

Aang was put on vegetable duty while Sokka was put in charge of the meat. Azula scowled but acquiesced to setting the table for them all.

It smelled delicious, especially once they were all seated. But then the conversation that had come so naturally while they’d all been cooking, working together as a team came to a halt.

Katara ate clumsily with her chopsticks, unsure of what she ought to say now. Sokka and Aang didn’t fare much better—though Aang was quite skilled with his chopsticks and seemed unbothered by the silence that had fallen over them. Azula was as herself as ever. She ate primly and properly and stared down Jeong Jeong like a hawk the whole time.

“I take it the two of you still aren’t used to using chopsticks?” Jeong Jeong asked, glancing from Katara to Sokka.

“Is it that obvious?” Sokka asked, blushing slightly.

Jeong Jeong chuckled lightly. “You hold them too low, that’s all.”

“Yes, they do. I’ll have to work on teaching them manners,” Azula said. She was unsmiling. She had no discernible expression whatsoever. Only bright, golden eyes. The sight angered Katara worse than when Azula hurled insults with a smirk or a sneer on her face.

“We aren’t uncivilized, Azula! We just come from a different culture where we don’t use chopsticks the way you do!” Katara said, not caring to call Azula by her title.

Azula seemed to consider her for a long moment, face still unreadable. “I suppose you’re right. I rescind my statement. But it’s Princess Azula,” she said at last.

The silence returned like a crushing weight on Katara’s chest. It was much more awkward now that Azula had opened her stupid mouth.

For some time, the only sound was that of their utensils against their bowls.

Halfway into his meal, Sokka broke it. “So what was being friends with the Dragon of Death like?”

Katara wanted to die. That was the last thing they should be asking Jeong Jeong if they wanted him to help them out. But she had to admit, even if he was helping them, even if Azula said he had definitively gone against the Empire of Fire, his whole thing seemed questionable. And Sokka had always been a skeptic.

“Ah… I was a much worse man in those days. I believed for too long that my country was good and just in their way. Being close with Iroh was… Outside of war, he never seemed to deserve his nickname, but in war was a different story entirely. I should have seen him for what he was much sooner.

“But the only way that I can continue is to go forward, and to help as many of the oppressed citizens of the Kingdom of Gaoling as I can. I must, of course, try to hide my true identity from the Empire of Fire, but I do my best to help where I can,” Jeong Jeong said.

“The Kingdom of Gaoling… Right, that’s what New Azulon used to be called,” Katara said. It felt sad to admit to how the Three Kingdoms of Earth had fallen so far since the war began.

“Until your old buddy colonized it,” Sokka said darkly.

“That might be true, Sokka, but Jeong Jeong’s present and future are his redemption, so we shouldn’t judge him by his past. He’s been trying to move past who he used to be for how long now?” Aang looked to Jeong Jeong.

Jeong Jeong’s eyes were dark. “It took me until I was twenty-two to begin to see how dark my country truly was. Then, I began to see it everywhere. By twenty-eight, I was sabotaging my own missions when I could, working to defeat evil from the inside, but it wasn’t until I was forty that I finally deserted both my country and its navy. That was over four years ago now. I’ve been working from the outside to do what I can to help fight the Empire of Fire.”

“You’ve been working against the Empire of Fire for sixteen years…” Aang said in awe.

“He could’ve done more sooner if he’d deserted earlier,” Sokka said with a scoff.

“You’re right to judge me,” Jeong Jeong said. “I should have opened my eyes much sooner. But there is so much propaganda taught… so much indoctrination to unlearn. I wish I had learned the truth before I ever spilled so much as a drop of blood for them, but I didn’t.”

Azula’s metal chopsticks were set down with a loud clack. She rolled her eyes irritably. 

Reflexively, Katara braced herself for a fight.

What came out of Azula’s mouth was not what she’d been expecting whatsoever: “Is no one going to ask about the fact that Oji-san is supposed to be dead?”

Jeong Jeong set his own chopstick down despite not being finished with his meal. His mouth formed a circle. No sound came out. He closed his eyes gently and exhaled. “I could lie to you, but I won’t. I know what you were told about my so-called death, Princess Azula. Iroh and I came up with it together.”

“Uh, hold up, I thought Princess Azula’s uncle was pond scum who killed people basically for fun.” Sokka was holding a hand out.

“Iroh is not a good man, but he helped me to fake my death the day I deserted the Empire of Fire,” Jeong Jeong said.

“Explain,” Azula said coldly. Her face was still horribly blank but dotted with those bright, piercing eyes.

“My rebellion against the Empire of Fire did not go entirely unnoticed. Half senile, Fire Emperor Azulon missed it in his old age, Princess Azula, but once Lu Ten died, I asked to be put on leave to grieve with Iroh. I know that Lu Ten was Iroh’s son, not my own, but he was as good as one to me. It was selfish, but I needed time.

“But Fire Emperor Azulon… passed, and your mother went missing, and it was announced that your father would ascend the Dragon Throne. I knew then that I was running out of time. Your father is an astute man who would have surely discovered my treason, and despite how long we have known each other, he would have no qualms executing me for treason.

“I was ready to die for my rebellion, and confided in my oldest and most trusted friend what I had done. Iroh was not… He too was jaded by his service in the military. He had distanced himself from combat years prior, after Hanabi died in childbirth, and he confessed to me that he did so because he no longer believed in our cause or our nation’s so-called superiority. He begged me to fake my death. He volunteered to help.

“I asked him to come with me. I believed that if the crown prince were to come with me, then together, we could defend the world from the imperialism of our country. He refused. We fought. It was the kind of fight that no relationship could ever recover from.

“I will never forget the words we said to each other that day. I told him that I would rather die a martyr than a fool. He claimed that even though he could not betray his country, he also could not bear to have my blood on his hands. I said that he already had so much blood covering them; what more would mine be? But he refused to back down. He got down on his hands and knees, as if begging to a god or the Fire Emperor, and he told me that if Hanabi was his heart, I was his soul. Though I could not look at him the same, I accepted his help. I finally saw Iroh for the coward he is, a man who is too afraid to rock the boat for fear of falling out of it, who believes his own kindness makes up for that cowardice.

“Iroh broke my heart when he refused to follow me into a better life, one where we could help the people we saw suffering because of our country, his family, but he could not break my soul,” Jeong Jeong said.

They were quiet a long moment. It was a different kind of quiet. One that Katara had not felt since she’d been a child, listening to her father and Bato’s war stories, listening to her grandma speak of the awful things she had survived.

“My uncle has always been a spineless fool,” Azula said, shattering the teary-eyed silence. She got up and left without so much as excusing herself.

Katara opened her mouth. Her throat took a moment to catch up to it, to let her speak. “I think you might be the bravest man I’ve ever met. Standing up to Iroh that way…”

“Yeah.” Sokka sounded like glass was wedged in his throat.

A tear slipped down Aang’s cheek. “I’m sorry that you were betrayed by a man you loved so dearly, Jeong Jeong.”

---

The sun rose, and so did Azula. Jeong Jeong did as well. She shouldn’t have been surprised by it; he was still a firebender at heart, no matter where his loyalties lied. And it wasn’t as if Azula could talk when it came to loyalty to the Empire of Fire anymore anyway.

“Good morning, Oji-san,” Azula said on the deck of his boat.

“Good morning, Princess Azula,” he echoed. “Going to meditate?”

“Yes, always,” she said before she exiting the boat and entering the riverside where Appa was snoring under the dawnlight. Some traditions were worth keeping, and her training was certainly one of them.

She had slipped well into a peaceful state, aware only of her body and the cool morning air pressing down on it and the silk of her clothes, when Jeong Jeong nudged a cup of tea into her hand. 

“You forget the importance of morning tea,” he said.

Azula scowled slightly at the interruption, but she swallowed down a gulp of the hot jasmine tea anyway. She had always thought that Jeong Jeong made the best jasmine tea in Heian-kyō. It was nice and heady, the floral taste of it sweeter than how most people made it, but all the more welcomed to Azula’s palette. “Thank you,” she said. She wasn’t raised in a barn, after all.

“Of course,” he said. “May I observe your training?”

“Feel free to.” She rose, handed him the simple, green tea cup back, and she began to stretch her body out. Her limbs, her torso, her neck. She had to be nimble and agile as ever. It would not do to find tension resisting the motions of her kata or drills.

When she was satisfied with the state of her body, she flew into an airbending form that Aang had shown her, remembering tightly the games she had played with Mai and Ty Lee in childhood, expelling Zuko and Asahi and Ruon-Jian from her memories. The air breathed with her. It moved where she moved. She felt almost as if she were one with it, but she wasn’t there yet. It was ever so slightly out of sync with her. She’d have to keep drilling these forms, keep practicing her airbending every chance she got it. It was always easier with Aang there to correct her, but he hated waking up this early with her.

The form came to an end with Azula on her knees. There was one strand of hair that had come out of place and over her eyes. She hissed a swear.

Jeong Jeong clapped. “Very good, Princess Azula.”

“Not good enough,” she said. “I need Aang to wake up already if I want to ever get better.”

Jeong Jeong looked at her with surprise coloring his expression. “You always were a perfectionist, but I’m glad to see that you’re so openly asking for help from him.” He dragged his fingers up the slope of his cheek roughly. “He was right. You are not the girl I once knew. I do not know that I can trust you fully yet, but I know that it is time I stop letting Iroh’s judgments cloud my perception of you. If you say you are trying to change, I will not contain you to who you once were. Who am I to judge you, after all, when it took me so many decades to see the right thing? You are only a child, Azula; you have so much time to grow.”

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand. She didn’t even feel a need to instruct him to use her title. “Are you saying you’ll help me regain my lightningbending?”

He smiled. It met his eyes warmly. “Yes.”

“We should begin immediately then. Before the others wake. They’re always insisting on watching me train instead of working themselves,” she said.

He laughed at her, light and without malice. “That is because your bending is quite impressive. Take it as a compliment, not a character flaw. But no, we will begin training after breakfast. I find it absurd that you do anything before you’ve eaten. What an unhealthy habit… Please go rouse your friends.”

“They aren’t my friends! We’re only allies!”

Jeong Jeong’s smile did not wane. “Very well. Rouse your allies.”

Azual did as told, shaking them to break their slumber and telling them that Jeong Jeong was making them all breakfast.

“Is there meat?” Sokka grumbled, drool pooled heinously in the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, now get up,” Azula said.

“Are we staying?” Aang asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

Azula’s shoulders fell slightly. “Yes, he agreed to help me.”

His response was a sleepy but enthusiastic “yay!”

Azula watched Katara light up at that as much as a half asleep person could. Then she shook Katara to wake her as if she’d wronged Azula personally.

Momo didn’t like that. Neither did Katara.

---

His uncle—even if not by blood—Jeong Jeong was alive. Zuko could hardly believe it. And Azula had, in all likelihood, gone to him. What could she possibly need from Jeong Jeong? She was already a Master Firebender. Was she hoping for advice on committing further treason?

Treason like Iroh had committed… but that was different. That was treason to save the life of a man who was like a brother to Iroh. Zuko didn’t condone it, but he could understand it. It had been harmless anyway. Jeong Jeong wasn’t doing anything beyond potentially harboring a fugitive. And even then, maybe he hadn’t changed as much as Iroh thought. Maybe he was stalling Azula to keep her there long enough for Zuko to track her down. Jeong Jeong had always been so fond of him when he’d been small.

Zuko had to reach Tatsu no Kuchi River much, much faster to find out where Jeong Jeong’s true loyalties lied. He needed to find his sister—the avatar. He needed to bring her home and restore his honor in the eyes of her, their father, and their country.

“Before we approach Jeong Jeong, it wouldn’t hurt to train some more. If Princess Azula has mastered airbending, it’s important that I teach you something, too, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said.

“What’s that?” Zuko asked, eager despite himself.

Mai rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s going to teach you lightningbending.” Whether you’re ready or not went unsaid.

But Zuko was determined to be ready. If Azula could do it, he had to learn, too, if he ever wanted to stand a chance of defeating her. “Where do we begin, Oji-sama?”

“With meditation, of course! Mai-chan, could you make an old man and his beloved nephew some tea?”

Mai looked unhappy about it, though it was hard to tell with her, but she complied.

Zuko got to meditating, determined to do it better than Azula ever had.

---

Days passed. They went into town only once for groceries, and Aang immediately started begging Azula to buy him a sky bison whistle even though they were all certain it was a scam. She caved only because he was so irritating about it.

Jeong Jeong still smiled at her and told her it was good she was making friends.

Katara and Sokka trained together with Sokka hacking and slashing through water and Katara going over the forms she’d apparently learned in Đất Nam. They were banned from watching as Azula worked tirelessly with Aang on her airbending and with Jeong Jeong on her lightningbending. Aang continued to refuse to tell her she had done more than “really, really well.” Worse, she could not lightningbend so much as a spark.

By the fourth day, she felt more useless than Zuko. She refrained from smoking at the fingertips or otherwise embarrassing herself with the poorly restrained temper that Zuko had always harbored, but it made little difference. Even if she was improving at airbending, she was still absolutely worthless if she couldn’t lightningbend.

A true Master Firebender of the Imperial House of Fire would have no problem lightningbending. It was like second nature to her father, to her aunts, even to her treasonous uncle. Even to Jeong Jeong who shouldn’t know how to split his ki like this at all.

He had her running pathetic warmups and drills that weren’t drills, that were hardly even precursors to lightningbending like some bratty half-pint instead of the princess she was. The avatar she was.

“Your technique is still excellent,” Jeong Jeong said unhelpfully, “yet you cannot produce the cold flame.”

“I’m aware! Maybe if you stopped treating me like an inept child and started training me like the prodigy my grandfather knew me to be, I would be lightningbending again, Sensei!” she snarled.

He did not so much as flinch as she bared all her teeth. “You may be a prodigy, Azula, but you are only a child. Of course, if you’d like to return to your father and ask him to help you lightningbend once more, you are welcome to. Otherwise, I am your only option.”

Her blood ran cold. Her inner flame shrank. She could not return home. It was not an option. Maybe it had never been an option.

“I do not wish to upset you, Azula, but until you are ready to share with me what is blocking your lightningbending, this is the best I can offer you. Split the leaf with a controlled flame again.”

Azula did as she was told.

---

Yōmei was waiting in his tent for the return of his men to report their findings. He’d approved any means necessary to make the villagers sing. He was doing a simple breathing exercise with the candles in his tent while he waited, glowing orange in their light as he raised their flames higher.

“Captain Yōmei, permission to enter?” Aisaka asked from outside the tent.

“Permission granted,” Yōmei said lazily.

Aisaka entered the scarlet tent flap with perfect posture. “Sir, the earth villagers were unwilling to speak with us at first, but after some convincing, they confessed that there was a sighting of a sky bison heading north to the Tatsu no Kuchi Village,” he said.

“Tatsu no Kuchi Village?” Yōmei raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, Aisaka, have you heard the rumors of the deserter?”

“… No, Captain. I have heard no such rumors,” Aisaka confessed.

Yōmei clicked his tongue. The flames of the candles grew higher. “This is unsurprising. They are not common. However, men of my breeding do believe that there is a man who has deserted the Great Empire of Fire’s Navy. Fire Emperor Ozai himself has been too busy with his lordly duties to look into the rumors, though I am sure he wishes to snuff them out. I am ashamed to say that I knew this man well once, but that has only aided me in my attempts to track him… You have likely heard of him.”

“I have?” Aisaka asked, forgetting himself.

Yōmei’s candles flickered angrily. “Yes.”

“Who is he, Captain Yōmei?”

The candles were snuffed out entirely as Yōmei held his breath. “One Imagawa Jeong Jeong. Write to my most honorable uncle immediately. He will be very interested to know which old family friend I may have located.” He opened his lurid eyes. “I’m sure Prince Iroh will also be interested…”

---

Sleep did not come when the sun sank beneath the horizon. It was not entirely unusual that Azula struggled to sleep, though it was the first time this had happened since she’d been unceremoniously removed from the Empire of Fire. She was laid out on the sleeping bag that Sokka had made her buy as Jeong Jeong had no spare mattresses for them. Her eyes were wide open in the dark. She felt restless. There was so much energy still in her body that she needed to release.

After taking a glance at the three snoring bodies around her, Azula rose from her sleeping bag. She slipped quietly out of the quarters they all slept in together and through the boat until she came to a loose floorboard in the corridor. Gold eyes darted around. Jeong Jeong’s quarters were across from her. She saw no stirring from it. Taking it as a sign that she was all right to continue, Azula knelt down.

The floorboard shifted again. She gave it a tentative push. It came up.

Beneath the floorboard was parchment. It looked like a series of letters. Azula pulled them out. She recognized the handwriting as her uncle’s.

What was Jeong Jeong doing with these?

She opened the first letter and skimmed it. It was dated from when the men had been in their twenties. In it, Iroh called Jeong Jeong with a familiarity reserved for wives and husbands. Though its contents were passably friendly, the language used said otherwise.

Azula’s brow furrowed in confusion. Her uncle was a traitor, clearly, but he wasn’t like that. There had been whispers about Jeong Jeong’s eternal bachelorhood in Heian-kyō for as long as Azula could remember, but never about Iroh.

Should there have been?

Lu Ten had always viewed Jeong Jeong as something of a second father. Azula had never known her aunt, but she knew from the stories she had heard that Hanabi had accepted Jeong Jeong as a part of Iroh. Had they been stupid enough to have a physical affair?

Azula could hardly imagine it, but her uncle had proved himself to be far more foolish than she’d previously anticipated thus far.

But wouldn’t Iroh have been willing to come with Jeong Jeong if they had been lovers? If he had already been breaking the law with him, what was desertion? Especially when they all knew how Azula’s father felt about that law particularly—all deviants deserve capital punishment for their betrayal of Empire of Fire ideologies.

Of course, though, Iroh was a coward to his core. He believed the Empire of Fire to be wrong, but he stayed. He stayed until Zuko left, and even then, he did not abdicate his title as prince. Even then, he was no doubt helping Zuko to bring Azula to her death.

She burned the letter.

---

As Mai had expected, Zuko was making no progress with lightningbending. It was going on six days of him trying, and he hadn’t even learned to clear his head through meditation. Iroh was insistent that this was normal, and Mai’s only frame of reference was how long it had taken Azula to learn (an hour to clear her head, four days to split her ki, and a fortnight to produce more than just sparks—though Azula had been convinced she had yet to master lightningbending even a year after her first time bending the cold flame), but she knew Zuko.

He had always struggled to be better than a notch above mediocre with firebending. Lightningbending would be no different. She had no idea why he didn’t just focus on his swordsmanship. That was an aspect in which Mai thought he was brilliant. He worked with broadswords, which Mai had never learned to use herself, and she had always thought him prodigious with them.

She would have told him as much if her mind wasn’t still clouded over with news of how Iroh had helped Imagawa to desert their nation.

What was she meant to think? That was treason, plain and simple. And if Azula was really with Imagawa now, then she was committing it, too.

Mai would no longer be able to assure herself that Azula was only a captive of those peasants. It was an unpleasant thought, so she shook her head clear of it. She returned to watching Zuko’s meditation.

He was distracted, clearly. She didn’t meditate nearly as much or as well as a firebender, but it was clear from his twitching that his mind was elsewhere.

“Oigo-kun, you want to focus on your body. Clear your mind of all distractions,” Iroh said.

Zuko twitched again.

Mai sighed.

---

“Today, we are going to attempt a different approach, Azula. I want to discuss your blue flames, not your cold flames,” Jeong Jeong said over breakfast. “Aang-kun, Katara-kun, Sokka-kun, please feel free to join us today.”

Azula felt irritation rise in her throat but said nothing. If Jeong Jeong didn’t care about them joining, then she wouldn’t either.

When their meal was finished and the dishes were put away, Azula, Aang, Katara, and Sokka followed Jeong Jeong to the deck of the boat. Azula had stretched and meditated before waking her allies, so she merely stared at Jeong Jeong for what he wanted her to do today. Another breathing exercise? More meditation? More of those silly little leaves?

“Azula, what is your source?” he asked. She hadn’t been anticipating that at all.

“The source of all firebenders is anger, Sensei,” she recited dutifully.

“Oh, that’s real friendly of you guys,” Sokka said from the sidelines. Aang giggled, but Katara shushed them both.

Jeong Jeong frowned. “That is what the Imperial House of Fire teaches, yes, and it is certainly what your father believes, but that is not the truth.”

“What is?” Aang asked.

“Fire is life. Life is what sustains us. What sustains you, Azula? For some firebenders, the answer is anger, but I do not believe you are one of those firebenders. Not with the complete calm I have witnessed from you most of your life,” Jeong Jeong said.

Azula was silent. She racked her brain, trying to find a suitable answer. Though she was loath to admit it, she was at a loss. “I don’t know, Sensei.”

Sokka snickered. “I mean obviously food, water, shelter, and my guidance sustain Princess Azula.”

“Your guidance is awful,” Katara said, smacking his arm.

He rubbed at it with a grin, then raised his hand for a high five from Aang.

Aang shook his head and shushed Sokka.

“Let me ask a different question: When did your flames turn blue? I know when I began to hear the rumors, but I want to know when you first saw blue in your palms and not orange.” Jeong Jeong was looking at her expectantly. His face was soft. Kind.

She shifted uncomfortably. She was reluctant to tell him, especially in front of her allies. “It was after Chichi-ue was crowned Fire Emperor.” It wasn’t entirely untruthful.

Still, Jeong Jeong looked at her, unconvinced.

She bowed her head. “It was after my mother disappeared.” After she found out that that wretched woman had said goodbye to Zuko, but not to her. The day she had found that she was fundamentally unlovable.

Jeong Jeong continued to look at her, his face softer now, his eyes sad. It was like being looked through.

Sokka, Katara, and Aang had all gone quiet, too. They were looking at her like something fragile.

She hated it. Hated all of them.

“Your source is not anger at Princess Ursa for leaving, Azula; it is love,” Jeong Jeong said.

Azula snorted. The only person who had ever truly loved her was her father. Everyone else had left. “You’re mistaken. My source is something stronger than that.”

He shook his head. “There is nothing stronger than love. However, I have mispoken somewhat. Your source has been your pursuit of love, Azula.”

“That’s stupid!” Aang interjected. He winced. “I mean, sorry. It’s stupid because you should never have to pursue love!”

“Especially not now,” Katara said softly. “You have us. We—we care about you, even if you’re a jerk most of the time. You’ve grown on us, too. You’re the avatar, yeah, but you’re also a girl who’s weird and funny without meaning to be and who cares about us, and, well, I guess we love you.”

“You don’t even like me,” Azula said.

“We don’t have to like you. We’re your family now, Azula, whether you like it or not,” Sokka said.

“There you have it,” Jeong Jeong said. “Maybe that will help clear your head.”

Before he had even finished speaking, Azula was being crushed into a bruising group hug. It was like a thousand hugs from Ty Lee.

It was something she hadn’t known she’d missed.

---

It was late in the evening, but Sokka was in the middle of a mock spar with Aang when a blast of orange flames hit the ground next to them. “Crap!”

“They found us again!?” Katara sounded incredulous, but Sokka kind of got it. It wasn’t exactly subtle to fly around on a giant flying bison, and they had made quite the ruckus with the Freedom Fighters.

“You guys aren’t exactly subtle,” the pale girl from the Fire Temple said. She sounded bored.

“Then why’d it take you so long to find us?” Sokka taunted.

“When did you start working with Zuzu, Mai?” Azula demanded. When Sokka glanced at her, she was glaring daggers at Zuko who was glaring right back at her.

“When you decided to commit treason,” Zuko said.

“Funny how Oji-san and I have that in common.”

Zuko didn’t take that very well. He dashed toward Azula with his fists aflame.

She propelled herself backward with a flip. “You’re not worth my time, Zuzu. Mai is all mine! You three handle my brother!”

“I’ll take Iroh then,” Jeong Jeong said.

“It will be an honor, Jeong Jeong,” Iroh said sadly.

“You have no honor.”

Sokka didn’t get a chance to watch Iroh and Jeong Jeong’s battle, though he saw the impressive size of their flames clashing in his peripheral. He didn’t get to witness more of Azula and Mai’s battle than the sound of knives and swords that came from that way. His focus was Zuko who was lit up all orange. He took Aang’s leftside, and Katara took his right.

They didn’t have to wait for Zuko to charge them, though his eyes were still trained on Azula.

His distraction meant that Aang easily dodged the burst of flames, Katara sliced cleanly through it with water from the river, and Sokka parried it with his sword.

He tried again with a series of blows, landing a few on the outskirts of Katara’s arms. She winced but smacked him clean in the side of his head with an octopus arm of water.

Sokka felt an icy sort of anger in his stomach. He wouldn’t let this bastard hurt Katara or Aang or Azula. They were all his family now, not just Katara. No one hurt his family. Least of all ashmaker losers with bad haircuts and only kind of cool scars.

“Don’t touch her!” Aang said, voicing Sokka’s exact thoughts.

They went on like that, the three of them dancing in formation with a pattern of attacking and defending against Zuko’s every movement. He wasn’t anywhere near as precise as Azula was, but he was still packing some truly scary flames.

It was when Aang countered a particularly grand kata by bonking Zuko over the left side of his head that he growled, low and feral, and moved into a series of arm movements that looked awfully familiar. The movement fizzled out when absolutely nothing came from Zuko’s hand at the end of it.

“Always the failure, brother dearest!” Azula called out.

There was a whooshing of air and the sound of a knife bouncing back. Sokka ducked, dropping his sword to do so, and it went clean past him and into the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Some heads up would be nice!”

“My apologies,” Azula said with a laugh.

“Of course, she can airbend already,” Zuko said. It sounded like a hiss. He geared up another attack, this time not a lightningbending kata, and he launched a massive but flickering fireball at Azula.

She doused it cleanly with a sharp jab of her index and middle fingers.

Sokka picked that moment to tackle Zuko, pinning him to the grass with only his boomerang in hand. He held it to Zuko’s throat like a knife and said, “Don’t touch her either!”

Zuko blinked up at him, open-mouthed. “You’re gonna kill me with a boomerang?” he asked stupidly.

“If I have to!”

“You’re so…” A blush spread over Zuko’s face. He was suddenly looking anywhere but at Sokka.

Sokka felt his own face flush in confusion.

Then he heard Mai’s low voice speak. “Oh, great. Well, I know when I’m beat, Princess Azula. I surrender.”

He slackened his grip on Zuko and spun his head around to look at where Mai was on the ground with Azula above her menacingly. Mai reached out two fingers to Azula as if to reconcile.

Iroh and Jeong Jeong came to a halt as a blank-faced Azula hesitantly reached back out to Mai with her own two fingers.

Mai’s arm moved in a blur. Smoke filled the air. Sokka felt himself shoved off of Zuko and onto the grass. By the time the smoke cleared, their three assailants were all gone.

Jeong Jeong sighed. “It seems we have let our foes escape us. We must retire for the day and prepare to move. There’s no telling when they’ll regroup and attack again otherwise.”

“You’re right, Jeong Jeong,” Katara said.

“Yeah…” Sokka agreed as Aang helped him off the ground.

“Is everyone okay?” Aang asked, checking over where Katara had been hurt.

“I’ll be fine,” she said softly.

Sokka swallowed nothing. “I’m all right, too. What about you guys?”

“Do not worry about me,” Jeong Jeong said.

Aang nodded. “I’m all right, too. Azula?”

“I’m fine,” she said harshly. She didn’t look it. It must have been about that Mai girl. They had been friends before, hadn’t they? They’d been together at the Fire Temple, at least. Sokka didn’t want to ask, though. He wasn’t going to push his luck.

---

For once, Azula and Jeong Jeong weren’t the only ones who rose with the sun. They had rested following the attack by Zuko, Mai, and Iroh, but they had to leave—and quickly. Azula was in no mood to see her brother and his betrothed again, let alone her uncle.

Jeong Jeong had been kind enough to sail them through the famously deep river of Tatsu no Kuchi, all the way up to where it flowed into Yan Province. While that, too, was colonized, it would at least get them on their way to the North Pole, and it would get Jeong Jeong further away from where Iroh knew him to be now. With Appa smooshed onto the deck of the glorified sailboat, they were on their way.

Azula thought it was pleasant out. Her companions disagreed. They were almost too busy rubbing at their sleep-crusted eyes to do the jobs Jeong Jeong had assigned them to. She was in a good enough mood despite the unpleasant surprise of last night that she was going to tease them about it when, through the window, she saw something dawn on the horizon of the river.

“Am I seeing things or is that a ship?” Sokka asked through a yawn.

“It’s a ship,” Azula said, feeling herself pale. “It’s Kimon. Zhao’s ship.”

“Who?” Katara asked. She was squinting in the distance.

“My half-cousin. Commander Yōmei. He was in the Fire Temple with us.”

“That’s not good,” Aang said. “We better tell Jeong Jeong.”

Kimon was catching up with them quickly enough that Azula didn’t think that was necessary. Sure enough, Jeong Jeong was calling down to them to brace themselves.

The boat grew hotter. Azula was sure they were on fire now.

“We have to go above deck to help Oji-san,” she said.

“On it,” Katara said. “Sokka, you stay down here and keep things running.”

“Don’t come up unless we call for you,” Azula said.

“Got it,” Sokka said with a nod.

The three of them hurried up to the deck. Sure enough, there were flames snaring parts of the earthbender-constructed boat. Appa was roaring in fear.

“Aang, calm him down,” Azula ordered. “Katara, take the wheel to steer. Oji-san and I will fight them.”

“But we’re in my element—”

“And you aren’t strong enough to take on an entire ship of soldiers.”

“I’m sorry, but she’s right, Katara-kun,” Jeong Jeong said.

Zhao was catching up with them.

He was yelling something, but Azula could only partially hear him over the sound of Appa’s cries.

“Yōmei has always lacked control and discipline. Ever since we were children under the same tutelage, he’s burned everything to the ground. When he catches up to us, show the restraint he lacks to defeat him,” Jeong Jeong said. “I will only step in if you need my help, Azula.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Azula said.

By the time Zhao caught up to them, Appa was done wailing. Azula could hear him much clearer now as she leapt over to his ship’s deck to face him.

“Azula!” Katara called out.

She glanced back at the other girl with no attempt to comfort her. Katara would have to learn to trust her. They all would.

“Hello, Commander Zhao,” Azula said.

“Princess Azula, it’s actually Captain Yōmei now,” he said, glaring at her horribly. His men looked surprised to her there. So it was as she’d expected. Her father was unwilling to let word get out about what she was.

Zhao threw the first punch as he always did.

Azula sidestepped to dodge it. 

“You always were an ungrateful brat,” he sneered. Another flame-ladden strike. Another dodge. And another. And another. And another. The heat around them was growing thicker. His ship was steel, but it was melting under the flames he and his men had sent all around it.

Azula smiled, and she struck at long last, aiming not for Zhao with her crescent kick of flames but for the steering wheel that stood some distance away behind him.

“You are your own downfall, Captain Yōmei,” she said before turning to catapult herself off the railing of his ship and back onto the still burning deck of Jeong Jeong’s ship where he caught her with some grace.

“That was excellent, Azula. Now hurry, you have to escape with your friends,” he said.

Sokka had come up from below deck and was already sitting on the saddle on Appa’s back with Katara. Aang was in the driver’s seat as always.

Azula nodded, and she boarded, too.

As they took off, a fireball missed them narrowly.

“Are we doing the right thing? Running away, I mean…” Sokka asked. He sounded sad. Distant.

“We’re retreating. And don’t worry about Oji-san. He’s the most capable firebender outside of my family, and Zhao is the second least competent firebender in my family anyway, above only Zuko,” Azula said. It was her best attempt at soothing.

“You’re sure?” Katara asked.

“Yes.”

“… But we didn’t even fix your lightningbending,” Aang said. “We got Jeong Jeong in all this trouble for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. I learned what my source is. Anyway, it’s like you said. I have to master the other elements. I can worry about lightningbending later,” Azula said. She meant it.

Notes:

additional cw: mentioned violent homophobia

cultural + translation notes:
- lama means teacher
- tatsu no kuchi means dragon's mouth

up next: the finale of book one will involve a prison, nepotism, familiar faces, and exactly what the doctor ordered

now live is the utterpok timeline with only spoilers for b2 lore that is already knowable thanks to the history of memory and b1 up to this chapter.

Chapter 14: Iron Box Prison (Book One: Air)

Notes:

happy early update? book one: air is finally complete.

---

The sky was bluer in the Warring Earth States. Aang thought so, at least. They weren’t soaring through it on Appa’s back, though; they were walking through a bamboo forest, alongside a creek. They’d bought a map on their way out of New Azulon, and they were in Yan Province, apparently. The borders had changed from what Aang remembered. It wasn’t any less pretty for the change.

It was bloodier, though. They’d passed through three towns, all dripping Empire of Fire red. They had kept their heads ducked down the whole time. They were working on that after their latest encounter with Captain Yōmei and Zuko (and Azula’s friend Mai and her uncle Iroh). Stealth was the safer route.

Azula wanted them all to keep their noses down and to not get involved in more stupid stunts that involved helping people. She hated helping people.

Aang was going to work with her on that. He was going to make a good avatar out of her yet.

But for now, he was going to focus on getting them all to the North Pole to find some Master Waterbenders. It was doable. It was certainly doable.

“Hey, is someone throwing rocks in that dried out river?” Sokka asked.

Aang shook his head. He looked up. Someone was indeed throwing rocks in that dried up river. While he couldn’t make out any identifying features of whoever it was, they were earthbending, building and lifting and moving rocks. Their rhythm was clumsy as if they were still learning and struggling. Aang still thought it was quite impressive, though. Anyone who was willing to bend an element other than fire in Empire of Fire territory was impressive. They were brave.

“We should get a closer look,” Sokka said.

“I thought I said no more stupid stunts,” Azula said. She was scowling slightly. She looked nothing like Nyima, but she still reminded Aang of the girl he’d lost. Nyima could get so serious, just like Azula. Only she also knew how to let loose and have fun. And she liked to help people. Aang really had to work on that.

“It’s not a stupid stunt. We’re just getting a closer look at their bending. Totally harmless,” Sokka said.

“Right, totally harmless,” Katara said. Her eyes were wider than normal and her jaw was a bit slackened. She hadn’t seen any earthbending before this, Aang remembered. She’d looked at him with an approximation of that expression when he’d first airbent before her. He couldn’t really remember the first time he’d seen the other elements bent, but he was sure he’d watched with that kind of awe, no matter how good the benders had been.

Azula rolled her eyes, but she didn’t object any further.

“Should we hop on Appa, or would that scare them?” Aang asked.

“It’s only a giant flying beast. Who would ever be scared of that?” Azula was examining her nails, which she often complained she’d been forced to file down into something short and ugly.

“Good point,” Aang said.

Sokka scoffed. “For once.”

Azula glared at him.

They crossed the distance between them and the earthbender until they could see that he was a boy. He couldn’t be older than sixteen.

He let out a little yelp when he caught sight of them and Appa.

“You’re not bad,” Azula said. “You scream weird, though.”

“You didn’t see anything. There’s nothing for me to be ‘not bad’ at. And I didn’t scream,” the boy said.

Azula raised her eyebrow. It made her look somewhat amused and very condescending. “We saw you earthbending and heard you scream.”

“Don’t worry, though! We won’t tell anyone! Our bending is illegal, too. And my scream is embarrassing, too,” Aang said.

“Your bending is illegal? Why aren’t you in prison?” the boy asked. “Sorry, that was rude…”

“No, it’s fine. We’re not in prison because we run away a lot,” Sokka said.

Katara smacked him in the arm. “Excuse my brother. It’s because we’ve fought for our lives. Our culture.”

“My father fought, too.” His eyes were far away. “He’s an idiot like that. And now he’s an idiot in prison. So thanks but no thanks to whatever it is you want from me. I’m not interested.”

“We don’t want anything from you. Thanks for nothing, jerk.” Sokka looked affronted as he eyed the boy.

He was starting to gather his things, though, so he said nothing in response.

“Well, I kind of wanted him to teach Azu—Hanabi to earthbend,” Aang said.

Azula scoffed, her eyebrows shooting up. “I’ll learn to earthbend from someone who’s better than just not bad.”

“He’s good!” Katara said.

Azula rolled her eyes. Aang thought she was being too mean, but the boy was already disappearing into the distance.

---

Zuko really was too proud for his own good. Mai was advancing on him with her tanto, rapidly closing off any routes to victory in this spar. Her blade was moving swiftly and efficiently in an all-out attack on him that he didn’t stand a hope in hell of defending against with his firebending. His movements were growing more and more frantic, and his bending was getting desperate.

It was giving Mai a rush to see him like this under her blade. Combat was one of the only things that gave her a little thrill. She was on edge like this. Alive in a way she wasn’t when she was just standing around.

Zuko was gritting his teeth and trying to find an opening to strike back, but Mai wasn’t going to give him one.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked.

She didn’t miss a beat in her assault. “What?”

“About Azula being a traitor?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hesitated for just a moment. 

He did not. He launched his assault, a barrage of flaming strikes that she could only try to meet with her blade.

“Whoever that girl we saw was—I don’t recognize her. Princess Azula wouldn’t betray our nation,” she said.

“But she did!”

Mai landed a blow with the hilt of her tanto to his chest, and then she was on him, pinning him to the dirt beneath them. “You should pick up broadswords again.”

“You’re changing the subject!” Zuko accused.

“You’re a sore loser,” Mai said, holding the blade to his throat.

Iroh’s voice cut in then. “Prince Zuko! Mai-chan! Are you two done sparring? I found the perfect vendor for us to eat lunch at!”

Panting, Mai got off of Zuko. “We should go eat.” She offered him her hand in reconciliation to help him up.

“You should accept the truth about Azula,” he snapped, slapping her hand out of the way.

If she’d been a firebender, she would’ve ignited him. “You haven’t known her in years, Prince Zuko.” She turned on her heel and marched toward Iroh. She was done with Zuko. She was more than done with Zuko for the day.

---

They were hiding Appa and Momo far outside of the towns and cities and villages they were staying in now. It was a precaution since Azula insisted they were both too recognizable to keep anywhere near civilization. This village wasn’t that big, and it wasn’t heavily populated or anything, but they weren’t supposed to be taking chances.

None of them were to bend their elements in the city either. Not even to heat up the too cold tea. So after an argument about the too cold tea Azula refused to heat up, Katara slipped out of the village and walked toward the abandoned mine where they’d left Appa and Momo to practice her waterbending.

But there was a familiar booming sound coming from the mines. The same one they’d heard in the bamboo forest on their way into the village.

Katara followed it to its source: the boy from before.

She launched into speech. “Hi! I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier! I’m Katara. It’s really nice to meet you—”

He blanched. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think anyone else would be here,” she said.

“Normally they aren’t. Why’d you come all the way here?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “I came to waterbend. I would’ve brought my friends, too, but… I’m really embarrassed to waterbend in front of A—Hanabi. She doesn’t think I’m any good.”

The boy stared at her for a long moment. “Give me a demonstration.”

“Oh!” She blinked a few times. She hadn’t been expecting an invitation to show him her bending. “Um, okay. I’m still learning, though.” She unsheathed her waterskin and tried to remember what Anh had taught her. Her face was burning, and she’d never felt this much pressure about her bending, even in combat. She made an octopus tentacle, and she whipped it around. She could see the water trembling, but she moved to her next form anyway. She did her best to move through the forms she knew, letting the water’s spirit flow with her own. It wasn’t as good as she could’ve done; she was sure that she was better than this, but she was all nerves.

The boy smiled when she was done. “You’re definitely messy, but you have the makings of a great bender. I mean, I don’t know anything about waterbending, but still… How long have you been bending?”

“The first time, I was six, but I didn’t really have anyone to teach me until a few moons ago. Then I lost my teacher…” Sadness gripped her chest. It was always like this when she let herself stop long enough to grieve what she had lost.

“I get that. My dad was the only person who was willing to earthbend in our whole village. He taught me until he was arrested when I was nine. Now I just do what I can,” he said.

“So you admit you’re an earthbender?” Katara was grinning now. She thought he was warming up to her.

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess the cat hound is out of the bag,” he said.

“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh! Sorry! You can call me Haru,” he said.

Katara bowed to Haru. He bowed back.

“So, Haru, you’re an earthbender, I’m a waterbender, and my friend Aang is an airbender. Maybe we could team up sometime,” she said, smiling brightly.

His face darkened. “The best case scenario if we ever do is imprisonment, and the worst case scenario is execution. Sorry, but I’m not… I can’t do that to my mom.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I know what having your culture killed is like. I also know how good it feels to fight back against the people killing it. I even know what it’s like to win some of those fights. I hope you get to know what it’s like someday, Haru,” she said.

He stared at her, his face unreadable. Then he said, “Maybe. But uh, I’ve got a question for you, Katara. Is your friend with the gold eyes really an earthbender?”

“Yeah! She is!” It wasn’t untrue.

---

Haru was walking home through the village to his mother. He was keeping his head down. It was all right that he was walking by a pair of police officers eating mochi. He was heading straight home, and he would help his mother make dinner when he got there. The officers didn’t know that he’d been earthbending or that he’d witnessed Katara’s waterbending.

They could suspect him of earthbending because of his father all they wanted, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to slip up in front of them. He was too smart for that.

“Hey, Haru, you know my buddy Fuyuhiko, right? He’s the physician on call at Iron Box Prison. He wants me to pass on a message to you. Your dad—do you remember him? It’s been so long since you’ve seen him—he says he misses you. Yeah, he says it while he cries himself to sleep every night,” one of the officers, Tanaka, said.

Haru’s nails dug into his palms. They were too blunt to relieve the pressure building in his head, though. Katara’s words rang in his ears: I know what having your culture killed is like.

Tanaka’s partner, Kaiba snickered at Haru’s pained face. “Your old man is a real coward, kid. Let me tell you, Fuyuhiko says he howls like a little bitch for the other men in the Iron Box. It’s no wonder they all pick him to mount.”

It wasn’t new. They’d been saying this kind of thing to Haru since he’d been old enough to ask them what they meant. It wasn’t new.

I also know how good it feels to fight back against the people killing it.

“I hear he begs for it,” Tanaka said. “Ooh, fuck me harder, make me bleed, ooh, ah!”

Louder: I even know what it’s like to win some of those fights. 

Kaiba was still crowing. “What’s the matter, Haru? You’re looking a little red there. Maybe you wanna take your old man’s place?”

I hope you get to know what it’s like someday, Haru.

His nails were still leaving crescents in his palms when the dam barricading his anger in place finally burst. “Shut the fuck up, you worthless ashmaker scum!” He wasn’t stupid enough to earthbend in front of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight back. He didn’t have to stand there and listen to their awful, reprehensible words a second longer.

“What did you say to us, boy?” Tanaka asked. His voice was deathly serious and lower than Haru had ever heard it.

“I called you worthless ashmaker scum!” Haru said.

Kaiba’s fist caught the side of his head. Haru heard the impact more than he felt it, but stars burst in front of his eyes. It was a distant aching in his skull as he hit the ground. He tried desperately to brace himself for worse because he knew Kaiba, he knew the temper this man had, he knew that there had to be worse incoming. Only worse didn’t come in the form of another blow from fist or foot.

“I think we’ve got to take this kid in, don’t you, Officer Tanaka? I mean, shit, he was earthbending in the streets,” Kaiba said. It echoed in Haru’s ears. It bounced around his skull. They were taking him in—arresting him. He wasn’t going to go home to his mother, after all.

A warm tear slid down his cheek. Then another. And another. And he could feel his nose beginning to snot up disgustingly.

“Yeah, you’re right, Officer Kaiba. We definitely need to arrest this dangerous soil dweller. Clearly he takes after his father just like we suspected.”

---

Appa and Momo were fed, brushed, and happy. Katara’s waterbending apparently had great potential. Haru was an earthbender who was not ready to fight back, but she liked him anyway. Azula hadn’t been ready to fight back at first either. She’d been afraid or angry or both, and she’d been rude and awful—she was still kind of rude and awful now, but she was Katara’s rude and awful friend. Family.

Haru was much nicer than Azula was, especially Azula when they had first kidnapped her. She didn’t think any of them would mind having him on their team. She certainly wouldn’t. He seemed like he would be a good friend to have.

Katara was walking through the pretty little Warring Earth States style houses, all the way to the inn they’d booked in the west side of the village. She’d decided that she had to tell the rest of Team Avatar about how they had to find a way to convince Haru it was worth fighting back because Azula was going to need an earthbender teacher and Haru deserved to know a world where there was something he could do about everything bad happening to him.

Katara was walking through the pretty little Warring Earth States style houses, and Haru was being dragged by men in red and black uniforms. She paled. “Excuse me! Excuse me, officers, why are you—what did he—”

“Back away from the earthbender unless you want to be arrested, too,” the taller officer barked.

She froze in place.

“I said back away from the earthbender, girl,” he said.

She took a step back even though doing so ached.

The officers were both glaring at her like she’d done something wrong, too.

“You look like a waterbender,” the shorter one accused.

“No! No, no—I would never—” She felt impossibly small. She felt impossibly scared. She was alone, and Haru was groaning in pain as if she wasn’t even there. Katara knew what it was to fight back and to win, but she needed her friends there to do it. She understood Haru’s fears more than ever.

So she ran. She ran all the way to the inn, and she burst into her shared room with Azula, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her into Aang and Sokka’s room where Aang was setting down a razor he’d used to shave his head. He dropped the razor.

Sokka groaned. “Katara, could you knock—”

“We don’t have time! Haru got arrested!” she said.

“Who?” Azula asked.

Katara gripped Azula’s wrist tighter and shook her. “Haru! You know Haru! The earthbender—the guy we met earlier! Long hair, green eyes?”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. Just—just calm down and let us help. What happened, Katara? How can we help Haru?” Aang made his way to Katara as he spoke. He pried her hand off of Azula’s wrist.

She felt almost better with him holding her hand. Then he let it go, and the racing of her heart came back into focus. “I don’t know what happened. They were dragging him off to arrest him when I came back from feeding Appa and Momo, and he—he looked hurt. I think they hurt him. It’s my fault… I told him that he should fight back, and now he’s going to prison.”

“You told him to fight back?” Azula asked. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s what we do,” Katara said weakly.

“And you want us to fight back now? Get Haru out of there?” Sokka asked. He was on her side. She knew that much. He was always on her side when it counted.

“We have to fix this,” she said.

“I agree!” Aang said.

Azula sighed. “We can’t fix this.”

“Why can’t we? You’re the avatar, Azula! I’m the one who told him—”

“Molten Rock Prison, Mount Taiyō Prison, Iron Box Prison, Yomi Prison, Fire Hill Prison, Boiling Rock—those are some of the prisons that he might be taken to. Can you narrow it down to three of them?” Azula’s face was hard. Her words were cold. And Katara couldn’t narrow it down to three of the prisons Azula had listed. She’d never heard of any of them.

She was quiet for a long moment, simmering in it. Then: “I can’t. I can’t narrow it down. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

Sokka’s face grew somber. “Katara… if we don’t even know where Haru is being taken, then Azula is right. I hate it, but there’s nothing we can do to rescue him.”

“That’s not true,” Aang said, shaking his head. “If we can just—if one of us gets arrested for earthbending, the rest of us can follow them in secret. Then we could break them and Haru out—”

Azula pinched her nose. “I don’t know how to earthbend yet. Even if I could, I would be recognized if I were arrested and sent back to the Empire of Fire.”

“No, I know it can’t be you,” Aang said. “That’s why we’re gonna make it look like I’m earthbending.”

Sokka was on his feet in seconds. “No way! There is no way I’m letting you do that, Aang! You’re twelve. You’re just a kid. And you’re my responsibility, okay? I’m not letting any of us endanger ourselves like that. End of story. I’m sorry, Katara, but the only thing we can do for Haru now is stay alive to win this war.”

Katara didn’t know how to tell her big brother that he was a heartless idiot, so she stormed out of his room instead.

---

The moon was high, but the beginnings of dawn were pressing into the sky when Katara woke Aang. She held her finger to her lips and guided him out of his room and into the hall that connected it to her and Azula’s shared room. “I need your help,” she whispered.

“Anything,” he said.

“That plan you had… I want to try it,” she said.

Aang looked pale in the glow of the moonlight, his eyebrows and eyelashes even whiter than normal, but he nodded. He had said he would do anything, after all.

---

He didn’t like it, but in the space between the late hours of night and the early hours of morning, Katara was readying to bend the wet earth beneath her, to do something adjacent to swampbending. It had been mistaken for earthbending before by all of them. At this hour, they were counting on it being mistaken for earthbending by the police.

Aang was hiding behind a restaurant while Katara tried to get the attention of some officers. He was hiding with his pulse in his throat and blood rushing to his head when she got their attention. He was hiding while resisting the instinct in him screaming that he shouldn’t be hiding when Katara was arrested and dragged away.

He tailed the officers, all the way to a big government building where he was sure she would be processed, feeling his heart drop every time they so much as yanked on Katara’s wrists. And then he ran back to the inn. He wasn’t going to be able to do this alone.

Azula was already awake, having risen with the sun mere minutes before. Sokka was up as soon as Aang ripped his blankets away, letting the cold morning air hit him in full.

“Wha’s wrong?” Sokka slurred, blinking his swollen eyes.

“Katara’s been arrested. You can be mad at me later, but right now, Katara’s been arrested, and I followed them to the station, and we’ve got to find out where they’re taking her from there.” Aang didn’t so much as breathe when he said all that. Breathing wasn’t important. Katara was.

Azula’s eyes shut. She inhaled sharply. “Do you know how monumentally idiotic—no. No, I will lecture you and Katara when we’ve broken her out of prison.”

“I’m so yelling at you both later,” Sokka said.

---

Zuko was working on lightningbending again with nothing to show for his efforts. Mai was working on target practice. Unlike Zuko’s inability to produce even a flicker of the cold flame, Mai had hit every bullseye he had picked out for her.

“This is impossible!” he said.

“I dunno about that. Princess Azula has no trouble lightningbending,” she said.

A big ball of orange flames went flying over her head. She didn’t even flinch. It was almost like being a kid again. Except this time, she could feel something flapping above her head in the aftermath of the flames that had been sent her way.

“Is that a dragon hawk?” Zuko asked.

“Is it?” She looked up. Sure enough, a dragon hawk was squawking indignantly as it flapped above her head. It flew over to Zuko and kicked at him with its talons. Then it flew back to Mai. She didn’t have an arm guard for it to land on, but she reached out to remove the message from its canister.

“It’s for you?” Zuko asked.

She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s for my great grandfather. What do you think, Prince Zuko?”

He scowled at her and huffed. “What does it say?”

“Hang on.” She read it as quickly as she could. “Do you remember Meito?”

“Your cousin?” he asked.

Mai finished taking in the letter. “Yes. He’s working at Iron Box Prison. He says that they just got a new inmate.”

Zuko squinted. “So?”

“So she matches the description I gave of the waterbender peasant,” she said.

“But she’s in an earthbender prison,” he said.

She rolled the letter back up. “She’s got blue eyes and a betrothal necklace.”

“What are we still doing here then?”

Mai rolled her eyes. “Write a note for your uncle. Send it with the dragon hawk. I’ll get our things ready. We’ll need my clearance to get into the prison.”

She was going to interrogate the waterbender about Azula, and she was going to finally get some answers. She might even get Azula back. Her day was finally getting interesting to say the least.

---

Katara had been expedited to the darkest, coldest place she’d been outside of her own home. Except Amarok Akuq was welcoming even in its darkest, coldest months. Its pearlescent glow and harsh frost was part of Katara’s happy place.

Nothing about Iron Box Prison was welcoming in the slightest.

They were encased in a giant iron box as its name suggested, and they were far away from civilization. In a mountainous region, Katara thought. She hadn’t seen outside of the crate she’d been transported in. For all she knew, she wasn’t even in Yan Province anymore.

But Aang was going to bring Sokka and Azula to her, and they were going to break her and Haru out of this awful place. All Katara had to do was find Haru and keep them both alive in this giant, echoing prison.

She was confined to her cell for now. A cell which she was to share with 3 others. Not all of whom were girls as the leering man who’d escorted her here was telling her.

“What?” she asked, paling. She hadn’t considered that possibility when she’d gone to Aang. She hadn’t considered anything.

“You heard me, girl. Now, if you give me a good reason, I could get you in a cell with only girls. But until I see you on your knees, co-ed cell it is,” he said. He was smiling, his teeth and eyes both bright in the dim lighting.

Her eyes burned. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t old enough or strong enough or anything enough—who was? Who on earth could possibly belong here?

“She’ll be fine here, Natsu. Thank you so much for worrying about her, though. I heard Cell 49 was planning a riot over breakfast, though. Maybe you should check on them. Give them a good scare.”

Katara knew that voice. She had thought she would never hear it again, but she knew it, and she’d missed it. She missed it so much that clearly she was hearing things because there was no way that its owner was alive and well and here—even if being here meant that she wasn’t well.

“I’ll do that. I love kicking the crap out of those idiots,” Natsu said. His footsteps echoed in the hall until they were completely gone.

Katara trembled. “Anh?” Her voice came out shaky and small.

“Hey, bạn. What happened to calling me ‘cô?’”

Katara turned around to see Anh, thinner and more ragged looking but still very much Anh. She let out a little gasp. She let herself cry. She let herself rush Anh for a kunik. She breathed in Anh until Anh was holding her, hugging her.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry—don’t be—I sacrificed myself so you would be okay. Why aren’t you okay? Why are you in an earthbender prison?” Anh asked.

“I was trying to find my friend. How did you end up so far from Đất Nam?” Katara stepped back as unwilling as she was to let Anh too far away from her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the older girl would vanish if she did.

“Well, they thought my swampbending was earthbending when they took me in. Then I caused problems for the guards in the first prison, so they transferred me here. Iron Box Prison has a horrible reputation in earthbender country. They thought it would scare me,” Anh said.

“Did it?”

Anh looked tired. “Yes. But I’ll live, Katara. Just… stick by me, okay? I’ll protect you while you’re here.”

“Okay… just… Can you help me find my friend, Haru? I want to make sure he’s okay,” Katara said. “And I want to get us all out of here.”

“The only Haru I’ve heard about in here is Tyro’s kid. He talks about his kid a lot,” Anh said. She sounded sad.

“Haru’s dad is in prison for earthbending,” Katara said urgently. “His dad was arrested in the same village as me and him. He could be here.”

“It’s possible. I’ll help you find Tyro at mealtime, then we can look for Haru together.”

Katara smiled as best as she could, and she thanked Anh. Even now, the older girl was always looking out for others. Katara was going to get her out of here. She was going to get them all out of here if it was the last thing she ever did.

---

Sokka wasn’t stealthy. He knew that. He hadn’t volunteered to sneak through the laboratory with the Freedom Fighters for a reason. That he’d ever sneaked through Zuko’s ship to find Aang was a miracle, even if they’d gotten caught. But not getting to sneak through the station to find the records with Azula and Aang was different. He’d wanted to go do this. He needed to do something to save his little sister. That was what older brothers were supposed to do. He had promised their father and their grandma both that he would protect Katara.

He had promised their mother the same once.

He didn’t remember her very well, but he remembered his promise. And yet here he was, uselessly sitting on Appa’s back with Momo while Aang and Azula hunted down the prison records to find where Katara even was.

He couldn’t even listen for the sky bison whistle Aang was going to use to signal for Appa to come flying. Aang had blown it to test it while they’d been preparing for this. None of them had heard anything. Sokka wasn’t even sure the damn whistle worked, but it was more subtle than just floating around the police station. Anyway, Aang insisted it was at a frequency only Appa could hear.

So Sokka was useless. He wasn’t able to act at all. He was just sitting on Appa, waiting for him to start flying.

“Do you think Katara’s okay?” he asked. He wasn’t sure who he was asking. Maybe Momo.

Momo just hopped up on his knee and nuzzled his abdomen. He could be sweet when he wanted to be. Sokka gave his head a good scratch.

“You’re right. We’re gonna save her. Her friend, too.”

And then Appa was off. Sokka couldn’t even steer or anything. He just clung on for dear life as Appa flew quickly to the station. When they got there, he helped Aang and Azula onto the saddle.

“Did you get it?” he asked as Aang took his seat at Appa’s neck.

“Yeah, we did. I couldn’t read it, but Azula says Katara’s at Iron Box Prison,” Aang said.

“Iron Box Prison? What’s that? Where’s that? How bad is it? Is Katara—is she okay?” Sokka felt his heart aching. His eyes were burning.

“It’s in Yan Province. Along the Yan Mountain Range. It’s a small prison, but it has maximum security. I’ve seen its blueprints three times. I could navigate it. But it has a horrible reputation. The guards are notoriously brutal to the prisoners. It’s powered by coal. It’s… co-ed. The male and female prisoners are not separated by cell,” Azula said. Her voice wasn’t distant the way it was before when she’d recited things from textbooks and memories of her education. Sokka hated that. If Azula wasn’t detached, it was because even she thought what was happening was scary.

He exhaled shakily. “She’s in a co-ed prison?”

“Yes.”

Aang was trembling. He wasn’t saying a word, but he was trembling.

Sokka grabbed him by the shoulders, as firm and steady as he could be in the moment. He had to be firm like that. “You can’t freak out right now, Aang. I—what you did was stupid. What Katara did was stupid. And I don’t like that you guys went behind my back to do it, but I know you meant well. You always do. And you’re gonna help us save Katara. We’re gonna get her out of there in one piece. Azula and I are gonna come up with a plan while you take us there, okay? And then we’re gonna save Katara. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Azula, tell me about the layout. We need a point of entrance.

---

Peach oolong tea was especially wonderful this time of year. The daifuku Iroh had been served alongside it complimented the tea well. His taste buds were in paradise. What a lovely break from Zuko and Mai’s arguing, to sit and enjoy tea and daifuku.

At least, it was lovely up until a dragon hawk came descending down on him. It was decorated. Even if the birds hadn’t been native to the Great Empire of Fire, Iroh would have known it was a messenger bird from someone in a government position. It wasn’t decorated enough to have been from his brother, at least.

Iroh took the message from the dragon hawk, ignoring the concerned looks of his fellow tea enthusiasts.

And then he dropped his teacup into a dozen pieces.

It was Zuko’s sloppy calligraphy, but it was telling him that Zuko and Mai had gone to Iron Box Prison. Apparently, a young girl there matched the description of Princess Azula’s waterbender companion.

There was no reason good enough for Zuko to go, though. Not in the eyes of the warden or the guards. They would never treat Zuko as he deserved.

Iroh had to hurry.

---

It was mealtime at the prison. Katara was sticking with Anh. They were looking for Tyro and for Haru, even though only one of them really knew what each of them looked like. The mess hall was cramped and cold and dark. There was one singular light in it, and it was flickering. The food was awful, too. It was discolored and mushy looking, and Katara wasn’t a picky eater, but she had her limits. So she wasn’t going to eat. She didn’t need to. She’d be out of here as soon as her friends broke her out. She had full faith in them, even if Anh seemed dubious about their odds.

“Tyro tries to eat away from the guards. They take any opportunity to beat us,” Anh said.

“That’s awful,” Katara said.

Anh’s eyes were dull, but she gripped Katara’s hand tightly. “As you saw when you arrived, it’s not the worst thing they’re willing to do. Some of the prisoners are like that, too… That’s why it’s important you stay with me, and you don’t say a word to anyone if I don’t give you the okay. I’m not letting anything happen to you, bạn.”

They were still working their way through the cramped mess hall. Everyone was grim-looking. Too thin and bruised. A lot of them had green eyes like Haru. Some of them were young like him, too.

It made Katara’s chest ache.

“Katara!?” She knew that voice.

“Haru!”

“This is your friend?” Anh asked.

“Yes! This is Haru! And you must be his father. I’m Katara. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” Katara bowed respectfully.

Tyro bowed back. “You may call me Tyro, Katara-san.”

“How did you get arrested?” Haru asked.

“A swampbender showed me a move or two, but don’t worry about that.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “I’ve got a plan to get us out of here.”

Tyro looked sadly at her. His eyes were very deep set and dark. He looked like a very tired man. “Do you know why this prison is called the Iron Box? It’s made entirely of iron. There’s no hope of earthbending. And while you and Anh are waterbenders, all the water in this prison is so heavily regulated and so sparsely distributed that there is no hope of waterbending either. There is no way out that’s not as ashes, I’m afraid. We’re here until we die. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to die in prison. No one does.”

“My escape plan doesn’t involve us bending, Tyro-san. It involves some powerful friends, and you shouldn’t underestimate them,” Katara said.

“You mean Aang and Sokka?” Anh asked.

“Yes, but not just them. We’ve got the avatar on our side now.”

Haru laughed at her. Anh and Tyro just stared, wildly different expressions of disbelief on their faces. Anh looked miserable. Tyro looked utterly bewildered. Eventually, Haru stopped laughing.

“You can’t mean that,” he said slowly.

Katara just shook her head. “I do. I’m dead serious. The avatar is on our side. My friends will break us out of here—really. They’re not giving up hope on us, and we shouldn’t give up on us either! Accepting this idea that we’re going to die here is giving up! That lack of hope is what kills people! Not just in this prison, but in this whole war! People die every day because they think there’s no reason to hope, that if they have hope, it’ll be made futile, but the avatar is back! The avatar always comes back! And if the avatar is back, then we can all fight back! We always could! We were all just too afraid to before! But we don’t need to be scared. I promise you that there’s good reason to hope!”

She was standing on the bench she was supposed to sit down and eat on. Her chest was heaving with the force of her hope.

A few inmates were staring at her. Not just the ones she’d been talking to.

It felt good. It felt like maybe she’d gotten through to someone.

“Sit down and shut up, brat. The avatar is dead,” a guard said lazily.

Reluctantly, she sat down. “The avatar isn’t dead. I meant what I said.”

Haru’s brow was furrowed into deep lines. “Who is it then? If it’s one of your friends. Who’s the avatar?”

---

Azula slipped out of the filthy vent and incapacitated the two prison guards waiting near it with a technique that was supposed to be one of the secrets of the Saionji clan—not ki blocking, but a sister of that technique. She was covered in grime from the vent. She wiped it off of her face, then she signaled for Aang to sneak in after her. He came flying out of the vent, but he was all twirly and whimsical about it.

She rolled her eyes. “Katara isn’t in this part of the prison. You need not show off yet, Aang.”

His whole face turned bright red and he shrunk. “I—I wasn’t showing off,” he said.

“Yes, you were,” she said.

He puffed his cheeks out childishly. Azula shouldn’t be surprised, given he was a child. “I don’t make fun of your crushes.”

She almost grimaced. Unbidden, her betrothal came to mind. She hated Asahi. She had never had a crush on him, no matter how Ty Lee had teased her when they’d been betrothed. “That’s because I have none.”

“Whatever… Let’s just find Katara! And Haru.”

They stuck to the shadows of the iron walkways. They pressed themselves into walls where they could, and they tiptoed the whole way, grateful it was mealtime.

And then they came across their first occupied cell. In it stood a young boy, no older than nine, and an elderly woman. Even in their raggedy prison clothes, Azula could see their bones too prominently. Were they barred from mealtime? Were they being starved? What could they have possibly done to warrant that?

“Is it wrong to only break Katara and Haru out?” Aang asked.

“Please help us,” the boy croaked.

Azula squeezed her eyes shut. “Katara would be very annoying if we failed to do the right thing here, even though we all know it will make this much, much harder.”

“We’ll just have to be that much better at doing the right thing,” Aang said.

She melted the lock off. “It would be in your best interest if you didn’t get in our way or disrupt this jailbreak.”

“Azula is mean. I’m not, though. I’m Aang, and I promise we’ll get you out of here, okay? Just stick with us, and be quiet,” Aang said, smiling as brightly as he could. It looked like it might break, though.

“I’m Daichi. This is Tamiko-obaa-san. She doesn’t talk,” the boy said.

She sighed, and she pulled the knife she’d stolen from Mai out from where she’d hidden it up her sleeve. She handed it to the boy. She hated parting with it. She hated losing the reminder of when her life had been normal. But he needed something to protect himself with, and Mai had been wielding knives before that age anyway. “Be smart with this. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you, Azula.”

“It’s Princess Azula.”

Tamiko’s eyes widened. She pulled the boy—Daichi back.

“It’s okay. Azula is that princess, yeah, but she’s also the avatar.”

“More importantly, I’m your only way out of here.”

Tamiko didn’t want to,—Azula could see that in her eyes—but she accepted that. She kept Daichi close, but she followed them.

They continued on, knocking out more guards than they could sneak past. Daichi didn’t use the knife. He just held it tightly. So tightly his knuckles were white.

Azula tried not to think so much about Mai. She’d been doing that ever since their last encounter. She’d been doing that ever since she’d written and burned the letter. She might be doing that for the rest of her life.

---

Zuko shouldn’t have had to go through prison security at all. Even outside of his being the Fire Emperor’s firstborn son, Mai had the official seal of the Imperial House of Fire on her paperwork. The Fire Emperor himself had filled that out, permitting Mai access to whatever she needed.

But they were holding Zuko and Mai up in the front of the prison. The warden, Akutagawa something, was a complete bastard. He was sneering at Zuko like he was anything special, like Zuko wasn’t Prince Zuko of the Imperial House of Fire.

“I’m not sure that Nakatomi-san’s paperwork accounts for your presence, Zuko-san,” Akutagawa said. “I just don’t believe we can allow you in the prison with her. You’ll have to wait outside.”

Zuko was burning. He opened his mouth.

Mai spoke instead. “Regardless of if you personally think my paperwork gives Prince Zuko access, too, if this prisoner has the intel I need, then Fire Emperor Ozai will not appreciate you holding me up.”

Akutagawa paled. “Of course not, no… Go ahead, Nakatomi-san, Zuko-san. I can have you escorted—”

“You can escort us yourself,” Mai said.

Akutagawa did not want to do that, but he wasn’t going to say no to Mai now.

Zuko straightened up with something like pride. He hadn’t felt proud in some time. Not truly. But Mai had stood up for him as if he was a prince. He was a prince.

He followed Mai and Akutagawa through the prison. They were heading to the mess hall where the earthbender peasant who was really a waterbender was supposed to be.

Akutagawa tripped and came crashing into the iron floor beneath them.

It was a body that he tripped over. A guard’s body. His eyes were open and moving, but he looked immobilized.

Mai unsheathed her knives.

Zuko lit up his palms.

“She’s here,” she said.

“I know.”

---

Sokka was waiting again. He felt useless, but at least he knew now that the sky bison whistle worked. He felt useless, but he and Azula had planned exactly what she and Aang were going to do now that they were in there. And he trusted them to improvise if they had to. He was sure that they would have to.

For some reason, things never seemed to go the way they planned them.

He sighed. He needed a distraction. Sitting there, hoping that Katara and their friends were fine wasn’t productive. It wasn’t helping him or them.

It was dark, and there were stars speckling the sky. He looked up. He tried to find patterns.

“That constellation kind of looks like you, Appa,” he said. “That one looks… like it’s got a bald phoenix-tail. You know. Like that bastard who’s always chasing us.”

Appa made a sound that was almost a grumble.

Momo bounced up on Sokka’s head and pointed. Sokka tried to follow his little finger.

“Oh… That does look like my boomerang, you’re right.”

It didn’t kill the anxiety in his chest. He wasn’t sure anything but getting to hug Katara again would kill that. His little sister was safe. She had to be. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she wasn’t.

---

Bursting into the mess hall with palms blazing wasn’t how Azula had wanted to do this, but it was hard to be stealthy when they had two extra factors to consider, and it wasn’t as if she didn’t know with certainty that she and Aang could take whatever guards were in the mess hall. Just the sight of her flames should be enough to make the men scared to touch her. It didn’t matter what they thought of her presence there. What they told her father.

She was going to save stupid Katara, and she was going to lecture her and Aang about thinking with their brains, not their bleeding hearts.

The room went silent for a long moment as blue flames illuminated it.

“I knew you guys were coming!” Katara was beaming. She looked dirty from even just a day in this prison, but she was alive. And she’d made friends apparently, in addition to finding Haru.

Aang tossed her her waterskin before anyone remembered to move, but his face looked strangely broken as he stared in her direction but not at her. Azula tried to ignore it, launching into a dance with the three nearest guards as Aang finally did the same with the guards nearest him. 

Her guards looked overwhelmed and completely unsure of what to do as she took them each down with clean, flame-laden blows to the head, stomach, and chest respectively.

“Princess Azula, what are you doing here? What has happened?” a guard asked.

“What are you all waiting for? Don’t you want to escape?” She was speaking to the inmates, not even acknowledging the remaining guards. “You don’t need to bend; you just need to riot.” She assumed an airbending stance, and she blew the guards who were approaching her onto the floor.

“She’s the avatar…” someone murmured.

“The avatar is alive?”

“The avatar is here.”

It didn’t take long for the riot to take shape. It was loud and violent and the perfect distraction for Azula and Aang to grab Katara and her annoyingly high amount of companions and escape.

“Anh, you’re alive!?” Aang still had that strange, shell-shocked look to him.

“Yeah, and you found the avatar,” the girl said back.

“We don’t have time to play catch up! We have to leave—now! Sokka is waiting with Appa,” Azula said.

Katara shook her head. Azula had had a bad feeling about this. “No, Azula, I can’t leave all these people. It would be wrong to leave them here to die.”

Azula sighed. “Fine, but we’re not personally escorting everyone out. This prison is powered by coal. Maybe these earthbenders can’t bend iron, but—”

“We can bend the coal. Where is it in this mess hall?” a man who looked like he might be Haru’s father asked.

“Over there.” Azula pointed toward the power supply on the opposite side of the room. “Find a way to tell everyone, Katara.”

“Me?”

“You’re the one who wants to save them. Anyway, you’re always yelling.”

“Elbow your way onto a table to shout it,” Haru said.

“Here, I’ll clear a path for you,” Aang said.

Katara nodded as Aang bent the air around them to pry some of the inmates apart for her. She climbed up onto a table, and she shouted above the noise, “The prison is powered by coal! You can bend it! You can fight back and win!”

The guards paled. The inmates cried out. And then there was coal, mountains of coal, flying about the mess hall, piercing guards through their uniforms, bashing their heads in.

“They’re gonna be okay, Katara. You did it. You’re getting everyone out of here,” Aang said, holding Katara by the shoulders.

She pressed her nose to his cheeks. “I missed you,” she mumbled against his skin.

“I missed you, too,” Aang said, blushing. “We’ve gotta go, though. I’m not sure how much longer Nyima would trust Sokka with Appa. Plus, I’ve gotta get caught up on Anh not being dead.”

They were working their way through the mass of bodies and bending when Azula caught sight of the glint of knives up above them. She followed the glint of red and black up decadently dyed sleeves up to dark eyes and darker hair. Mai was watching her from up above, leaned over the railing as if she was going to jump down to pounce on Azula.

A man Azula assumed to be the warden and Zuko were both next to Mai. His tawny eyes locked on her. But his glare felt less terrifying on her. Zuko was manageable. Zuko was a threat she could toy with.  Mai was different.

“We need to go now,” Azula hissed. “Aang, take Daichi’s hand. Katara, take Tamiko’s. Keep them both close to you until we’ve escaped, and pray to every spirit you believe in that Appa can carry all of us.” She gestured Katara toward the elderly woman.

“You’re saving extra people you didn’t have to save?” Katara asked, sounding awed.

“Yes, now hurry. Mai is here. So is my dear brother.”

---

The prison was jarringly empty in the aftermath of the riots. Mai and Zuko had done what they could to help keep the riot under control, but it was hard when they were outnumbered by angry earthbenders, even if they were famished and out of practice. Brute force wasn’t to be underestimated when its users were angry enough. Especially when Zuko and Mai’s mission was to bring Azula home, and they’d been fixated on that. But when Iroh had reached the prison, too, he had helped to end the riot.

So not everyone had escaped. That would have been the most embarrassing slight on Great Empire of Fire history in centuries. But there had been one-hundred-and-thirty-seven prisoners at the beginning of the day, and though they were still counting how many remained, the answer was a lot less than one-hundred-and-thirty-seven.

They’d stolen war balloons for transportation. Damaged property. Guards were dead. They would never see their families again. Not that Mai had that much love in her heart for prison guards—she had never particularly liked Meito who had unfortunately survived the riot, and she’d heard enough stories to know she never wanted to be in prison herself. Still, they were men who were serving their nation. They had died for it. They had died because Azula had initiated a riot and rebellion.

Mai felt cold as she swept the floor of the mess hall. Azula was not the girl she had known. Something very strange and wrong and awful had taken her place. She wanted to understand why. She wanted to understand what Azula’s captors had done to her to make her like this.

It wasn’t in Azula’s nature to betray her nation. She wasn’t made that way. Mai was sure of it.

But that little boy had been gripping Mai’s knife. The one Azula had taken on the ferry. Azula had to be the one who’d given it to him. If Mai had ever meant anything to her—the knife was on the floor.

Mai felt colder still.

“This was your knife,” Zuko said, kneeling down to examine it.

“I gave it to Princess Azula.”

Iroh made a strange sound. It might have been a hum.

“Oji-sama, do you know anyone who might be able to track Azula with this?” Zuko asked.

Mai watched as Iroh closed his eyes. He straightened his spine out a bit. “I know of a woman who is from earthbender country, but who will track anyone for the right price.”

“Fire Emperor Ozai gave me access to unlimited resources,” Mai said. It felt strange to say now. Maybe because there was no world in which Mai wouldn’t have given everything it took to bring Azula home with her.

“I will send a messenger hawk to find Jun then.”

Mai closed her eyes, and she chose to believe that if they could just bring Azula home, even if it was kicking and screaming, she would thank Mai for it one day.

---

Ozai was never in the mood to see his older half-sisters. But here they were, bowed before him in the Dragon Throne Room, looking grave and grim under the light of his flames for reasons other than their old age.

“What is it you want, Ane-ue?” he asked. 

“We have word from Iron Box Prison, Your Imperial Majesty,” Lo said.

“There has been a prison break. More than half the inmates have escaped on stolen war balloons,” Li said.

“Everything over there is hectic, and it is not clear who would have been able to perform such a feat, but there are reports that one of the parties involved wielded blue flames,” they said together.

The flames of the Dragon Throne Room doubled in size. “What do you imply?”

“There is only one wielder of the blue flames,” Lo said.

“She has been missing for some time now,” Li said.

“Where is Princess Azula?” they asked together.

“Do not make such baseless accusations about my daughter. Keep your decrepit noses out of matters that do not concern you: Azula is my blood more than she is yours. You would do well to never forget that,” Ozai said.

They bowed one last time before exiting the Dragon Throne Room.

Ozai pressed his eyes tightly together. This would not do. If Azula was breaking earthbender criminals out of prison… Perhaps the Nakatomi girl needed more pressure put on her to bring him his daughter, the avatar.

He would see his daughter brought home yet.

Notes:

additional cws: cavalier and cruel discussion of prison rape, threats of sexual violence from an adult against a minor, police brutality against a minor

up next: an interlude from the kyoshi warriors before we begin book 2, but i promise that will come in the form of a double update this week

also, if you missed it last chapter, now live is the utterpok timeline with only spoilers for b2 lore that is already knowable thanks to the history of memory and b1 up to chapter 13.

Chapter 15: The Kyoshi Warrior Interlude (Book 1.5)

Notes:

this is late because my laptop broke down during finals season, so i was very stressed about that and didn't have the means to finish this on time. book 2 is slated to start june 10th, though; that is not impacted by this late update.

this chapter is mostly filler also, but it does resolve some of the questions raised by chapter 14, so it's optional but recommended reading if you ask me.

After the prison break, Azula had instructed Daichi and Tamiko to go with another group of escapees and, in a lower voice as if she didn’t want to be overheard, to not die or go back to prison. Tyro, Haru, and Anh were riding on Appa’s back with them until they could be dropped off somewhere safer. They had to fly back down south to do that. Katara thought it was worth it, though. She knew Aang and Sokka agreed, and she thought that, secretly, Azula agreed, too.

Azula had helped all those people save themselves, after all. It was heroic. It was avatar-like. Katara was proud.

“Team Avatar is totally killing it!” Sokka said. He was grinning so widely that it looked almost scary. “I mean, we got Katara back, Anh’s not dead, Haru and his dad are out of prison, we freed all those people, Azula let her dad know whose side she’s on—”

“Still not over that part, by the way,” Anh said.

“Me neither…” Haru said. “I just, I need it explained to me one more time. The avatar is also a princess of the Empire of Fire. Her dad is the Fire Emperor. But she’s… not going to kill us all?”

Tyro was silent as he stared at Azula as if she might change her mind and attack at any given moment. Katara supposed she couldn’t blame him—or any of them. “Azula is—well, she’s really mean, and she has no manners, but—”

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now,” Azula said.

“That is not soothing!” Sokka said. “Be normal for two minutes!”

Azula rolled her eyes. It reminded Katara distantly of her mother telling her not to make faces like that, lest she get stuck that way. “She doesn’t know how to be normal, Sokka.”

“I’m rude?” Azula looked particularly offended at that. “Excuse you, you kidnapped me—”

“Oh, here we go again!” Sokka said.

Katara and Aang were both laughing, though. Anh, Haru, and Tyro seemed to be at a loss as to what they should make of the situation.

“Is it always like this?” Haru asked.

“Yes,” Katara, Aang, and Sokka said at the same time that Azula tried to deny it.

Aang turned back with a blinding smile readied on his face. “Don’t worry, though! Azula is our family now. We swore her in and everything. She’s stuck with us!”

Katara flicked her gaze over to Azula, who looked, despite all her imperial posture and loftiness, softer than she had a moment before. She said nothing. Katara wondered if she knew how to say something kind here. If her first family had taught her anything like that. Knowing what she knew about the Empire of Fire, having seen Azula interact with her father, uncle, and brother, she doubted it.

There was time to teach her, though.

“So, Anh, are you joining Team Avatar?” Sokka asked.

“Team Avatar? Is that what you guys call yourself?” Anh asked.

Katara laughed. “It’s what Sokka calls us, but Azula hates it, so it’ll do.”

“I see,” Anh said. She was smiling less now. It was making Katara’s heart hurt. “Katara, Aang, Sokka… I risked my life for you. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I want you safe. But I don’t think… I don’t think joining your team is how I’m going to be most useful in this fight against the Empire of Fire.”

“Oh,” Sokka said. He wasn’t smiling at all anymore. “Okay… What about you, Haru? Azula could use an earthbending teacher.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that to my mom—or my dad,” Haru said.

Tyro gripped Haru’s hand tightly. Like if he didn’t, he would lose his son all over again.

“That’s fine. I would much prefer a Master Earthbender to teach me anyway,” Azula said. Somehow, it was the perfect amount of prim and proper and rude to alleviate some of the disappointment coiling around Katara’s throat.

“Is there anywhere specific you guys would like to be dropped off?” Aang asked.

“We need to be sneaked back into our village. I have to see my wife,” Tyro said.

It was dangerous, but Katara could tell from the look in his eyes that there was no talking him out of it. Haru either.

“Got it. What about you, Anh?” Aang asked.

Anh looked up at the star-splattered sky for a long moment. Her throat was not the same vibrant shade of brown that it had been in Đất Nam. Sections of her hair had become matted. There were bruises she couldn’t hide lining her skin. Katara wanted to do anything to keep her safe. “Do you know anywhere I could help?”

“What’s your skill set?” Azula asked.

Anh grinned, but her eyes still looked haunted. “I’m a waterbender. I taught Katara some of the basics last time we saw each other.” There was pride lining her throat.

Katara flushed.

“If you can heal, we might know a place,” Azula said.

“Okay, slow down, Azula! Did you forget about the whole attempted murder thing? I don’t think we’ll be welcomed with open arms if we bring Anh to those rebel medics,” Sokka said.

“I can heal,” Anh said, “and if they almost killed you guys last time, I can always walk some of the way.”

“Oh, no, we weren’t the victims of the attempted murder,” Sokka said.

“To be fair, Jet definitely tried to kill Azula before she tried to kill him,” Aang said unhelpfully.

Katara squeezed her eyes shut at the memory. It was almost funny now, but it had still been terrifying to witness. “Let’s not unpack that right now,” she said.

“No, I’d like to unpack it,” Haru said.

“Trust me. You don’t,” Sokka said.

---

The hard part was over. Suki wanted to believe that. She desperately wanted to believe that it could be true. She knew that it wasn’t, though. Yihwa had survived the initial wound, the infections that had followed from the make-shift stitches they’d done, and the first month of recovery. But the hard part was far from over. If anything, their troubles were just beginning. They had been practically worthless the past month, unable to do anything but worry about Yihwa, train, and worry some more.

Suki didn’t have faith in herself. Bongseon and Chae-won disagreed, and allegedly, so did everyone else, but she didn’t have an ounce of faith in herself anymore. Not after she’d gotten Yihwa hurt.

They still had no waterbender to speed up Yihwa’s recovery and get her back in the field. It was no one’s fault. There were other, more urgent cases for the medics they’d been staying with to attend to.

This was Suki’s mantra the day that changed: You can’t keep being such a screw up; you have to make things right.  

“We have a waterbender!” That was the voice of one of the rebel medics, Yuri. Only it couldn’t be Yuri. She couldn’t be saying what Suki thought she was saying.

“Did I hear that right?” Suki asked.

Bongseon looked breathless. “Yeah, you did.”

Suki was on her feet before she knew it. She was running to Yuri, desperate to know if this meant someone could take a better look at Yihwa. “You have a waterbender?” she asked, not even caring if she sounded desperate.

“We do, yeah,” Yuri said before switching to Higo. “Suki, this is Anh. She doesn’t speak Jigueo. She’s going to take a look at Eui first since her recovery has been so shaky, but once she’s done, she can examine Yihwa. Right?”

Anh nodded. She looked to be in pretty poor shape herself, but Suki didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that this girl was a waterbender, and she was going to help them. “It’s nice to meet you. Maybe not in these circumstances, but…”

“Yeah. You too, Anh,” Suki said. “Find me when you’re done, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors.”

“The Kyoshi Warriors?” Anh’s mouth opened into a little ‘o’ as her eyebrows shot up. “I thought they were killed off decades ago.”

Suki tried her best to flash a smile. It might’ve come off looking like a grimace, though. “It never hurts to honor an old tradition.”

Anh looked at her curiously, but she didn’t disagree.

---

Suki waited by Yihwa’s side without promises for three hours before Anh was done treating Eui. She waited with the other Kyoshi Warriors, all of them desperate for Anh’s help but none of them brave or dumb enough to expect it. Eui was a serious case. She had been experimented on for months. She was still underweight and scarred, and they didn’t really know what was wrong with her or what had been done to her.

It wasn’t as if Yihwa wasn’t healing either. It was just that she wasn’t healing fast enough for any of them to feel better about what had happened to her yet. Suki wanted her up and moving again already. She wanted to know if Yihwa would recover in full or if she needed to send Yihwa back to Kyoshi Island, to her parents who loved her and could care for her better than Suki ever could.

When the three hours passed, Anh finished up with Eui, and she came in to meet the Kyoshi Warriors. She bowed to each of them before asking them to give her some space to examine Yihwa.

“Do you want some privacy?” she asked.

“No, it’s okay. They’re just worried about me. Besides, they all saw when they stitched me back together,” Yihwa said. She didn’t sound as bright as she would have before.

Anh smiled at her. “You’re being very brave.”

“I have to. None of us get to choose cowardice,” Yihwa said.

Suki watched with live nerves as Anh undressed Yihwa to examine her healing wound. It was a scar now. A nasty one. They hadn’t been able to make it any other way.

Ye-rin took a shaky breath. Suki gripped her hand tightly. She had done a good job stitching Yihwa up. Suki wasn’t going to let her forget that. Yi-seul seemed to have the same idea as she took Ye-rin’s other hand. Ye-rin relaxed into the tethers.

“Okay… I know you had some infection problems, but they were able to get you through that with herbs. I’d like to do a scan with the water, though. I want to make absolutely sure that you’ve got no problems down the line. Then we can do something about this scar if you want,” Anh said. She gave Yihwa’s hand a squeeze.

Hana sniffled. Kyuri wrapped a protective arm around her.

“It’s kind of badass, isn’t it?” Yihwa asked. “I mean, normally I’d hate to have a scar like this, but I did get it trying to kill ashmaker scum.”

“It is,” Anh said, “but don’t go getting any more, okay?”

“Got it,” Yihwa said with a little laugh.

Suki let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

---

Anh was a good waterbender. That much was clear. She didn’t have Yihwa up and walking again quite yet, but she’d completely cleared the recurrent infection. Suki had hugged her and everything when Anh had broken the good news. They’d all thanked and hugged Anh. Even Ara who never hugged anyone. Even Yihwa who really shouldn’t be hugging anyone just yet.

It was after all the hubbub when Anh had stepped out to give them space that Yuri came back.

“Is Yihwa all right?” she asked.

“Yeah. Anh fixed her right up,” Chae-won said. “She’s the best!”

“Isn’t she? We’re so lucky she got out of Iron Box Prison. What a crazy story, though.” Yuri was laughing. 

Suki frowned. “Anh was in Iron Box Prison? How’d she get out? And why would they put a waterbender there?”

“She’s a waterbender who swampbends, so I guess they mistook her bending muddy soil for earthbending. And she said something really crazy actually when we asked how she got out. She said the avatar saved her.” Yuri was shaking her head slightly as if she didn’t quite believe it.

“Of course he did,” Suki said, grinning. It was exactly the kind of thing she’d been hoping to hear about Aang, Sokka, and Katara doing.

“He?” Yuri furrowed her brow. “The avatar isn’t a boy.”

Oh. Someone must have been impersonating the avatar then. That was disappointing, but at least they were doing good with it.

“Yeah, it’s really confusing actually, but Anh says the avatar is a princess of the Imperial House of Fire. You know Princess Azula—the one with the blue flames? Yeah, Anh said it was her. She airbent and everything,” Yuri said.

Suki felt her muscles freeze up one by one. “She airbent?”

“Yeah, that can’t be right,” Bongseon said.

“We met the avatar, and he was definitely not Empire of Fire,” Hana said. “His name was Aang, and he was a hundred-and-eleven-year-old Air Nomad who was iceberged for like a century. Yihwa thought he was cute, but his friend, Katara, definitely had a crush on him, so I think she’s got dibs.”

That certainly sounded more like the Hana Suki knew and was begrudgingly fond of.

“What she said,” Nabi said.

“Uh, no, Anh was very specific. I mean, she mentioned an Aang and a Katara, but the avatar was definitely the princess. I think you guys got bad intel. I mean, was there any proof Aang could bend the other elements?” Yuri said.

Suki felt herself deflate. “No… There wasn’t.”

But Ha-yoon was laughing. She was laughing full bellied. She whacked Yi-seul’s arm breathlessly before burying her face in Yi-seul’s shoulder.

“You think this is funny?” Mi-yeun asked. “I mean, Aang lied to us! Which means Sokka lied to Suki! That’s the guy she likes! And he deceived her! That’s awful! She must feel awful!”

“Thanks, Mi-yeun,” Suki said.

“No, no, I mean—he really hustled us!” Ha-yoon said.

He had hustled them. Kyuri seemed to agree that it was funny. So did Chae-won and Yihwa. They were all laughing. Suki didn’t quite get it, though.

“We must’ve scared them badly with Unagi for Aang to lie to us. He seemed like a sweet kid,” Kyuri said.

There was more laughter. Even Bongseon was grinning. Yuri looked confused, though.

“Maybe you should talk to Anh,” Yuri said.

Maybe they should. Suki would certainly like to know why Sokka lied to her, at least. It didn’t seem like him to tell that kind of lie. Except… They were going to feed the three of them to Unagi. Suki guessed she could see how that would make someone say anything.

But if the avatar was actually Princess Azula? Well, Suki was going to have a hard time digesting that. She had spent years hating Princess Azula and her family. She couldn’t just give that up because Princess Azula was testing out being a good person. Just because she was the avatar.

---

It was late, but Suki was going to talk to Anh alone. Alone with Bongseon and Chae-won. She wasn’t going to let the other Kyoshi Warriors do this when combined, they had all the subtlety of a firework. But Bongseon and Chae-won were nonnegotiable parts of her. She couldn’t part with them at a time like this. They helped.

They found Anh outside, amongst all the vibrant bamboo and crystal blue water of the nearby river. She looked out of place with how sunken and gaunt she was. She also looked peaceful, though, or as peaceful as a recent prisoner could look. She was meditating.

“Should we disturb her?” Chae-won asked.

“I think you just did,” Bongseon said.

Sure enough, Anh was looking around now. She blinked when she laid eyes upon them. “Do you need something… Suki, Chae-won, and Bongseon, right?”

“Right,” Bongseon said. She nudged Suki forward. “Tell the nice waterbender the thing about the avatar.”

Suki balked. “Why can’t you tell her?”

“Well, you’re the one who got lied to by her crush,” Chae-won said.

She had never felt so betrayed. Least of all by her best friends. “Fine. Fine! You’re both awful. Um, Anh, about the avatar…”

“Oh, yeah. Meeting her was weird. She was really intense, but—”

“Aang told us he was the avatar,” Suki blurted out. “And Sokka and Katara didn’t correct that lie. And—and I like Sokka. So I want to know why he lied to me.”

Anh blinked. “I have no idea. I mean, Avatar Azula is pretty rough around the edges, so maybe they were scared about telling people she’s the avatar.”

“She wasn’t even with them when we met them,” Bongseon said.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Anh asked.

The three of them shuffled. Suki hated this feeling. She didn’t want to be scared. She was a warrior. She couldn’t be scared.

“It’s okay. So am I. But… Avatar Azula did the right thing back there. I think she needed some prodding, but she saved people. And if Aang, Sokka, and Katara trust her, I’ll try not to worry so much. No matter how off putting I find it that a princess of the Imperial House of Fire is apparently the avatar,” Anh said. She looked softer suddenly. Her eyes were bright with tears.

“She could so easily turn on us all,” Suki said.

Anh nodded slowly. Sadly. “Yeah, she could. Our options are basically trust her anyway and hope for the best or don’t and figure out how to win the war without her.”

“Is it wrong to do the latter?” Suki asked.

“No, it just means we’re relying on ourselves,” Chae-won said.

“She’s not wrong, but I don’t think it’ll hurt to have hope that the avatar is still who they’ve always been,” Anh said.

Suki sighed. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I think she has to earn that hope,” Bongseon said. She slipped her hand into Suki’s. It felt good, so Suki slipped her hand into Chae-won’s, too. It felt safe like that, being anchored. It felt like coming home.

She opened her eyes.

Anh was looking at them strangely. “It’s good that you have each other until she does.”

“Do you have anyone?” Chae-won asked.

“I have siblings, but I haven’t seen them since… They were onto me being a swampbender. I had to get out of there before they killed me,” Anh said.

“You need people until you find your siblings again. And you know, the Kyoshi Warriors happen to need a medic,” Chae-won said.

Anh blinked. Suki did, too.

“But we’re nonbenders,” she said.

“Yeah, you guys are nonbenders.”

Chae-won laughed. It was a pretty sound. “Okay, I know that, but don’t you see it? She doesn’t have to be a Kyoshi Warrior. She can just be our medic. I mean, if she’s okay with that. And if Bong and Sook are both okay with that.”

“Uh, I mean… I want to help. I declined joining Team Avatar, but I want to help in the war,” Anh said.

“Perfect! So help us! Join us!” Chae-won said.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Bongseon said. “Sook?”

Suki glanced around. “If you can get Yihwa up and fighting again, then okay. We can—we can figure out the logistics of traveling with a bender in our ranks.”

“… Do I have to wear makeup?” Anh asked.

“Only if you want to,” Suki said.

Anh grinned. Maybe there was hope yet. Even if Sokka was a liar when his life was threatened.

---

Sokka sneezed.

“Bless you,” Aang said.

“Someone must be talking about you,” Azula said. “Badly, I’m sure.”

Sokka glared at her. “You’re such a freak.”

Notes:

up next: it all comes back to mothers, whether you like it or not.

Chapter 16: Anaana (Book Two: Water)

Notes:

happy birthday! enjoy the update!

i changed the summary yes. for clout. hope it works? i would love more interaction with utterpok kudos, collection, and bookmark wise (also comment wise but you guys leave me such lovely comments as is).

“When you bisect the space between the void and the real, you do not end with two halves of the same self. You end with a border that circumscribes.”

― Angie Sijun Lou, The Nü Country

---

In the Long Month of the Imperial Year 2495, Princess Azula had revealed herself to be not only the avatar but a willing traitor to the Dragon Throne. All was not yet lost, though, for her father, Fire Emperor Ozai, knew her heart, and he knew that his daughter would return to him yet and once more pledge her loyalty to the Great Empire of Fire.

All he had to do was bring her home.

The legacy of the Great Empire of Fire was not over yet.

In his chambers, Ozai sighed with content. The concubine would need to take contraceptive herbs now that he had finished with her. He didn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter as he rolled off of her and onto blood red silken sheets. The afterglow was seeping into his bones. He was almost content. 

There was still the matter of his daughter to deal with. Beyond the dangers of her allying herself with those brats, beyond the damage it was doing to their family and their empire, he missed Azula. She was his blood. His loyal daughter.

He missed watching her firebend and lightningbend; she was so talented, so prodigious. He missed hearing about her day, all her snide remarks about her peers’ failures and her witticisms. He missed seeing her in the morning and at dinner with her face so like her mother’s. He missed everything about her presence in the Imperial Palace. Even her rare failures.

Of course, that was secondary to his greatest concern: the line of succession. He only had four possible courses of action. He could bring Azula home and make her crown princess which was ideal and what he wanted most, or he could remarry and have more children, an heir and some spares, and hope they were as prodigious and pious as this perfect daughter he had created, or he could temporarily reinstate that ingrate Zuko into the line of succession to buy time and create a sense of stability in the Imperial House of Fire.

Or there was Ursa.

After his father had died, she disappeared completely. He hadn’t seen her since that fateful night. If she had even had the means to escape the Great Empire of Fire, Ozai wouldn’t know. He had become uninterested in her life the moment she had fulfilled her purpose. She had given him his heir and his spare, and she had given him his path to the Dragon Throne.

Still, if their genes had produced the perfect heir once, who was to say they couldn’t do it again?

“I’m done with you,” he said to his concubine.

“Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” She exited his bed on unstable legs, and she pulled her clothes up off the floor to leave.

Ozai didn’t care to watch her do so. His mind was made up. Finding Azula was still the end game, but he had to buy time. He had to stabilize his rule once more before word got out about Azula’s misadventures in earthbender country. Ursa could afford him that time, that safety net. All he had to do was find her. If she was still alive.

---

It was dawn, and Hakoda was getting up as quietly as he could to go hunting. His quietest wasn’t quiet enough, though. Kya stirred next to him in their bed. She grumbled something he couldn’t quite make out and smacked his arm lightly. She was a morning person, but there was no one reasonable who liked being up quite so early.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered, smiling sheepishly.

“Make it up to me,” she mumbled. Her voice was heavy with sleep. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her nose scrunched playfully.

He leaned over to kiss her chastely. “All better?”

“That’ll do.” She was opening her eyes groggily.

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “All right. You should go back to sleep, Kya.”

She huffed indignantly. “You’d better be safe, Hakoda.” She was as stern as anyone could be this early in the morning, but her eyes were filled with love.

Hakoda felt his heart melt a bit. He was always falling deeper in love with his wife. “When am I not?” he asked.

Kya fixed him with a look that shut him up instantly. “Tell Bato I expect you both back in one piece.” She leaned up to give him one last kiss. “And don’t wake the girls. They’re growing. They need all the sleep they can get.”

He dressed and exited their igloo quietly, sure not to wake either of his children. 

Outside, his closest friend was waiting for him. Bato smiled when he saw Hakoda. “How’s Kya?” he asked.

“I woke her, so you know: mean, but she loves me. So the same as always,” Hakoda joked.

Bato laughed heartily. He’d always been close with Kya, too. “Good. And the kids?”

“Sleeping soundly,” Hakoda said.

Bato patted him on the back. “We should be off then. Better have something killed for them to eat when they wake up.”

---

If there was one thing that Ozai knew, it was that his older brother wasn’t the god amongst men he was meant to be. Iroh might be descended from Agni, but he was as fallible as any mortal. Perhaps Ozai had believed otherwise in his childhood, but he was long past that. Nothing had proven Iroh’s true nature more than his utter failure at Ba Sing Se. In the bright light of the oversized dining room, it was glaringly obvious that Iroh was pathetic, a coward. He couldn’t even face their family after killing his son. It was hard for Ozai to fathom that he had once admired his brother.

Crown prince or not, he didn’t deserve to sit on the Dragon Throne once their father finally abdicated. It should be Ozai in his place. It wasn’t as if Iroh’s path to the Dragon Diadem had been cleared by his birthright alone either. Their father had killed their older brothers to give that to him. Lu Ten’s death was opening Ozai’s path to it. He was sure of that.

But he ate dinner quietly, not so much as thinking about his father working through the meal. It had grown more commonplace in recent years, though it was deeply rude. He did not dare to comment, either, on his brother’s failure to even sit down for this meal with the rest of their family—and that viper rat, Zhao, and his wife, Sayaka. None of them acknowledged Iroh’s absence. None of them had said a word since they’d humbly accepted the food before them.

There were so many seats that used to be filled at their dining table. Iroh’s and Lu Ten’s and Hanabi’s.

And the one which had belonged to Ozai’s mother before she had…

Ozai didn’t like to think of that. Even now. He wouldn’t think of that. He would remember his mother fondly and honorably, and he would give her his condolences that her other, living son was such a disgrace now.

He understood what it was like to have a disgraceful son, after all. Zuko was a rotting apple on their family tree. Ozai wanted the boy gone, but his mother was so insistent on babying him. Tolerating his every failure. Ursa was weak that way. Ozai resented her for that. The woman he had married was not weak. He had courted her because she had been strong and brilliant and brighter than any of the other whores that had been offered to him, let alone the one who had been promised to him before her. He hated to think of his first wife, but at least she wouldn’t have coddled Zuko like this.

Ursa was as weak as Iroh.

---

In the cold of the early morning, Katara sniffled and shook and pawed at her mother’s arms. She was desperate for her mother to console her. Her heart was racing and locked in her throat. “Anaana, wake up, please, please, I had a bad dream.”

Her mother was blinking awake in a moment. She cupped Katara’s face as she rose. “What dream, sweetheart? Are you all right?”

“It was that dream again… I’m—I’m—I don’t wanna die, Anaana,” she said, burying her face in her mother’s chest. She choked on a sob. Since her father’s father had been killed in the Empire of Fire raid that had occurred when she had been five, Katara had been dreaming of ashen snow. She was the last waterbender in the South Pole. If they came back, they would kill her. They were always looking for elders, shaman, and waterbenders in their raids.

Her mother pulled her closer, held her tighter. “It’ll be okay, Katara.  They don’t know you’re a waterbender, and they can’t hurt you. I won’t let them. You know that.”

It was helping. She was calming back down as her mother rocked her tenderly. “‘M sorry I woke you.”

Her mother gave her a gentle push backward. She brought her nose to Katara’s wet cheek and inhaled. Then on the other side. 

Katara’s nose was snotty, so she refrained from returning the gesture. 

“I never mind being woken by the people I love, Katara,” her mother said. “Do you think you can get back to sleep?”

Katara shook her head. “But I can go bother Sakari.” She glanced over where the only other sleeping inhabitant of their igloo was snoring gently.

“You should be nice to your big sister. She needs to rest so she can grow big and strong. Here, I’ll take you to help me with my morning chores.” She rose from her bed, helping Katara up with her.

Katara sniffed. “Okay, Anaana.” She followed her mother out of the igloo and to where they did the laundry. 

Her grandma was already up and washing the inner layers of parkas with one of the other women of the village, Suluk. “Good morning, Katara! Good morning, Kya!” She had lit up at the sight of them.

“Good morning, Anaak.”

“What are you doing? Who made you do laundry? Let me take over, Kanna, please. You should be resting,” her mother said, trying to take the inner layer from the elderly woman.

Katara’s grandma whacked her daughter-in-law over the head. It was light but firm. “Worry about yourself. This old lady still has some fight in her, you know.”

It made Katara crack a smile. “Anaana’s in trouble!”

“Hush now.”

---

Dinner was always a quiet affair. Zuko was used to it, but that didn’t stop it from making his skin prickle. His hair was standing on the back of his neck worse than it normally would. It had been twenty days since Lu Ten had died, nineteen since the Siege of Ba Sing Se had ended, and ten since Iroh had returned home.

Zuko had tried to go see his uncle earlier in the evening to ask if he would be joining them for dinner tonight. The sight he had been greeted with had been horrifying. Iroh was catatonic. He was staring at the wall. He didn’t move or speak or make any indication that he was even alive aside from the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Lo and Li had come to collect Zuko soon after, whispering to him that this was unsightly and he ought not to witness it, promising that Iroh would be all right. Zuko still didn’t know if he believed them as his hands trembled around his chopsticks.

Seated directly across from him, Zhao smiled and exhaled a sound that might have been a laugh. Zuko tried quickly to readjust his grip on the chopsticks. He failed. The lacquered chopsticks fell onto the table with a clatter.

Zuko froze, feeling the shame creep in. He was ten, almost eleven. That was far too old to be dropping his chopsticks like some toddler.

His mother got up to pick them up for him immediately, fussing over him like a child. It was embarrassing. Especially as Zhao’s smile grew and Sayaka’s eyes flicked up at him. Even Fire Emperor Azulon clicked his tongue impatiently.

“I fought my first Agni Kai today,” Azula said suddenly.

Zuko exhaled harshly. Of course Azula would use his humiliation to boost her standing in the family further. She was determined to undermine him at every turn.

“What? You just turned nine, Azula. You shouldn’t be fighting Agni Kais,” their mom said. She sounded horrified. It made Zuko feel bad that his first feeling hadn’t been concern.

But then again, Azula was a hard person to be concerned for.

“It was at the academy, Haha-ue. A challenge was issued, so I fought,” she said.

“But you’re too young—”

“Ursa, it’s good that Azula is showing this kind of initiative. It only goes to show that she’ll make a fine general one day,” their father said.

Zuko scowled. Everything Azula did was always golden in their father’s eyes. Even fighting an Agni Kai before she was legally allowed to.

“She’ll be a brilliant general,” Lo said.

“Amaterasu smiled the day she was born,” Li said.

“But we have to ask: Did you win, Meigo-kun?” they asked together. They were always doing that. Zuko thought it was weird and creepy, even if they were his aunts.

“Of course, Lo-oba-sama and Li-oba-sama,” Azula said.

Zuko huffed. “You’re so…” He thought better of it, though. He shouldn’t make a scene. It would be even more embarrassing than dropping his chopsticks had been.

“Princess Azula can’t have possibly fought a real Agni Kai, though. It’s illegal for someone under the age of thirteen,” Zhao said.

“Yes, my husband is correct,” Sayaka said. “While the princess is truly an impressive firebender for her age, she must mean that she fought a mock Agni Kai.”

Zuko felt only slightly better at this. Azula hadn’t fought a real Agni Kai. Even she wasn’t that advanced. Not yet, at least. In all likelihood, Zuko would fight and win one before Azula did. He was older, after all.

“Children under thirteen have been fighting mock Agni Kai for centuries. It’s a respected means of settling disputes,” their father said.

His shoulders slumped once more. Who was he kidding? His father would always love Azula more. It didn’t matter that he was the firstborn or that he was a boy; Azula always beat him in their father’s eyes.

It was like he liked to say: Azula was born lucky, and Zuko was lucky to be born.

“What was the Agni Kai over?” Fire Emperor Azulon asked.

Zuko watched the color leave Azula’s face. She went quiet and still, very still. The way that Iroh had been when Zuko had gone to check on him.

“Your Fire Emperor has asked you a question, Princess Azula,” Fire Emperor Azulon said. His voice was low and commanding. He had stopped working through paperwork altogether. His dragon hawk eyes of gold were locked onto Azula. Even Zuko knew that this was not the kind of question Azula could ignore.

“It was a matter of honor,” Azula said quietly. “Mai’s honor… Her family was besmirched for only having a daughter as an heir. She’s a nonbender, so I fought in her place.”

Their mother was quick to jump in, her voice urgent. “Mai is Nakatomi Ukano’s daughter.”

Fire Emperor Azulon shook his head. “Play Agni Kais are one thing, Azula, but you are not to waste your talents fighting for others. You are a princess. You will behave like one.”

Azula’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. Zuko did not feel better for it.

---

Katara was bringing in pearlescent snow to melt for drinking water with her mother, a common chore in the South Pole, even during the summer month of Tuvaijaruut, when Sakari sneaked up to tug at their mother’s sleeves. “Anaana, where are Ataata and Akka? I told them I wanted to go hunting with them today.”

Their mother laughed, light and melodic, before pulling Sakari in to inhale her memory with nose pressed to cheeks and forehead. “You’re too young for that, my love. Anyway, hunting is the man’s job when we can help it.”

She puffed her chest out proudly. “I’m as good as any man!”

“No, Sakari, you’re better,” their mother said fondly.

“Oh, oh! Saka, can I show you a waterbending trick I’ve been working on?” Katara was bouncing so much that layers of the snow she’d been carrying fell out of her bucket, but she hardly noticed.

Sakari squished her face up. “I don’t wanna see your lame waterbending!” For emphasis, she stuck her tongue out.

Katara flushed angrily. She dug in her bucket to make a snowball and launched it right at Sakari’s face, not caring how much it might sting at this distance.“You’re mean! I don’t like you!”

“Well, I don’t like you!” Sakari said.

“Girls! Play nicely with each other, or don’t play at all,” their mother scolded them.

They both mumbled apologies to each other. Katara knew that their mother was not a woman to argue with.

“All right then. We have to get ready for your father and Bato to get back from hunting so we can make breakfast. Come now, my loves,” their mother said. “Sakari, can you help Katara get more snow to melt while I take this back to the others?”

“Yes, Anaana,” she said dutifully.

Katara smiled, small but bright.

---

Azula had to be perfect. There was no world where she could be anything less. She knew that, and she delivered on it, that promised perfection, as often as she could. She had been working to deliver on it her whole life, and every failure only served to make her sharper and more refined. After the disaster at dinner, she could feel her skin tight around her bones as she tried to deliver perfection for her father.

“The Last Battle of Yue Province,” he said.

With only her fingers and toes pressed to the ground, Azula did another push up. “Was lost on the fifteenth day of the Month of New Life in the Imperial Year 2412 due primarily to the poor judgment and leadership of Admiral Kobayashi. He failed to consider Yue Province’s great numbers and relied too heavily on the strength of firebenders in the microseason of the beginning of summer, even though the larger season was technically spring. He woefully underprepared his strategy of attack. Consequently, he was defeated by the earthbender army’s superior forces and strategy.”

“Correct, my dragon,” he said. “Hold the plank.”

She did as he instructed, even though her body ached with the effort. Strength was not something she could sacrifice. Not if she wanted to make her father proud.

He made her hold it for what would have been four degrees had the sun been up before he asked the next question. “The Siege of Han Province.”

Her arms twitched where they held her up. “Chichi-ue, we haven’t yet besieged Han Province,” she said, trying to disguise her weakness.

He stroked the strands of hair falling over her cheeks back behind her ear. “Correct again. However, I want to hear what your vision for a Siege of Han Province would be. You may rise to tell me.”

Grateful for the break in her exercise, Azula pushed herself to her feet. “Thank you.” She had to think quickly. What was the best plan of attack for a province in the middle of the Warring Earth States? On its borders were the impenetrable Ba Sing Se, the already conquered Qin and Wei, and the ever insignificant Zhou.

They could attack from any direction but south essentially, but Azula had learned next to nothing about Han Province in her lessons. She didn’t know the size or power of their military.

Her father was smiling at her. It was the kind of smile that told her he knew she had no idea how to answer his question. It left her feeling humiliated.

“I don’t know, Chichi-ue,” she said.

“I suspected as much, Azula,” he said. “Ah, our time is up. We should go collect your brother and mother. Our meeting with your grandfather is soon.”

“Before we go, I have a question,” she said.

“What is it?”

She could earn back some of his respect if she only phrased this right. “Are you going to be Fire Emperor now that Oji-sama has no heirs?”

Instead of answering, he chuckled and patted her head. “Wouldn’t that be lovely, my dragon?”

“Yes,” she said instantly. “You would be a much better Fire Emperor than his imperial tea-loving kookiness.”

---

There was laughter in the air as Sakari whipped the slimiest piece of kelp she could find at her sister, smacking Katara’s arm. They were gathering food with the other kids, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun with the task. The other kids were playing around as they worked, too.

Katara made a face as she wiped at the slime on her parka with her tiger sealskin mitts, smearing it over the mitts instead. Her face worsened when she realized that, and Sakari laughed even harder. “I’m gonna get you back for that!” Katara huffed.

“I’d like to see you try—” Sakari shut up when a wad of nori hit her square in the face. She had to admit, Katara had a good arm on her. “Okay, so you got me. Big deal—” Another wad hit her.

“Katara, don’t waste the food,” their grandma said.

“Sorry, Anaak!”

If their mother did anything more than shake her head and laugh at their antics, Sakari did not see.

---

The broadswords clashed across the training grounds. Yōmei was watching Zuko train with Ursa. Annoyingly, he was much better at this than he was at firebending. His firebending was mediocre at best, but his swordsmanship was quick and clean and almost thoughtful. It was only a bandage, though. Ursa had started teaching him as a crutch for his pathetic firebending. 

Worse, Zuko was laughing and chatting far too happily with his mother for Yōmei’s taste. 

If he wasn’t going to commit to his firebending, if he was going to waste all of their time with the broadswords, then he should at least take the art seriously. How was this brat considered part of the Imperial House of Fire, in line for the Dragon Throne, but Yōmei wasn’t?

Maybe he had been unsuccessful in his attempts to master Susasnoo’s technique thus far, but it wasn’t as if anyone expected the boy to be able to master it. It was mere luck that had made him a son inside wedlock unlike Yōmei’s mother.

“Good, Zuko. You’re getting so strong,” Ursa said with great pride. But what was she so proud of? Just because the boy had grace with the broadswords didn’t mean he was worth anything. If he had been a nonbender, it would be fine. He wasn’t, though. He was born with fire running through his veins, and he failed at every turn.

“Thanks, Kaa-san,” Zuko said bashfully. He wasn’t supposed to refer to her so casually, but he did, and she let him. More proof of his weakness.

Yōmei gripped his wife’s hand so tightly that he half hoped it would fall off and be his forevermore. Sayaka did not make any indication of the pain she surely felt. She was strong like that. Disciplined. Grateful. Everything Ursa and her son were not. Yōmei often thought that his uncle Ozai must be jealous. While their union had not proven fruitful, Sayaka had proven to be the woman that Ozai must have thought Ursa was to chase her so fervently.

“He’s certainly improving,” Yōmei said.

Ozai was approaching them with Azula in tow. They were both dressed in white formalwear. Mourning colors.

Yōmei shook his head. “But he’ll never catch up to his sister if he spends all his time playing with broadswords.”

Ozai said nothing, but he had surely heard from the way his face was stretched into a smile. He likely agreed with Yōmei’s assessment.

Azula said nothing as well. She stood to her full height, though it was not particularly impressive, and she held her head high.

“Oh? Is that so, Yōmei-kun? Please, feel free to speak your mind,” Ursa said. There was something pressed to her throat—malice, perhaps. She bore her teeth at him. She was always like this when Zuko was threatened.

Yōmei smiled politely back at her. “I kid, Ursa. You know this.”

“I do,” she said. Her nostrils flared slightly. She was a dragon in phoenix’s clothing. He wished her gone. “Come now, Zuko, your father wishes for us to speak to Fire Emperor Azulon.”

Yōmei watched as Azula’s face pinched childishly. He knew her to be a brat who did not respect her Fire Emperor. Not that he entirely blamed her given Fire Emperor Azulon’s… oddities. His refusal to abdicate the Dragon Throne, for one.

“Right! We have to get dressed for Chichi-ue’s meeting!” Zuko said.

Yōmei’s eyes narrowed to slits. What was it that his most honorable uncle had to say to their Fire Emperor that was so important it could not wait til the morning?

---

The snow leopard caribou carcass Bato carried with Hakoda was a beast of a thing. Its spirit was paying kindness to their people by feeding them, and its remains would not go to waste once it was digesting in their stomachs. Bato was grateful to it as he always was to what their hunts brought them. 

As their village grew larger and closer against the snow, the laughter of its children came into focus. Bato smiled, identifying that of Sakari and Katara with ease. He knew that Hakoda’s face matched his own. It was good that they got to feel even a semblance of a childhood. They deserved that, no matter the state of the war.

“Do you think they’re happy?” Hakoda asked him out of the blue.

Bato blinked and staggered slightly, almost dropping his end of the snow leopard caribou. “They’re as happy as they can be.”

“You’re right…” But Hakoda wished that they could be happier.

Bato wished for it, too.

The laughter came to a halt and little shouts of joy replaced it. The kids swarmed them as the other men tried to cut through to help with getting the snow leopard caribou where it needed to be to prepare and cook it.

Once Hakoda was free of the carcass, Sakari and Katara wrapped themselves around him snuggly. Then they released him to hug Bato who grunted at the impact. “Good to see you, too,” he said, laughing lightly.

“Hi, Akka!” Katara said.

“You’re late,” Kya said, but she was smiling anyway. “Good catch today, boys.”

“It was all Hakoda,” Bato said.

“Nonsense. You helped.”

Bato gave Hakoda a light shove. Kya just shook her head.

---

The orange flames that danced around the Dragon Throne Room were precise and beautiful. It was typical of Azula, but Ozai swelled with pride watching her every time. He had created that. He could mold it into whatever he desired. Ursa be damned, Azula was his daughter. She had been from the moment Ursa had resigned to let him name the girl for his father. She would be his for lifetimes, his and hers alike.

He smiled as Azula finished demonstrating her intermediate kata and knelt into a respectful bow he knew she did not mean.

“Yes, very good. Now why have you felt the need to show me this? Hm?” his father asked.

“Princess Azula is a prodigy just like her namesake. Don’t you agree, Chichi-ue?” Ozai said. His heart was thumping in his chest. Even after all these years, even after the death of his love for the man who sat before him, whose flames burned brightly around the perimeter, Ozai was still afraid. Damn his weakness.

His father clicked his tongue impatiently. “Yes, she is. Like Lu Ten and Iroh before her… But why have you bothered me, Prince Ozai?”

Before he could answer, Zuko was jumping up from his bow, heavy on his feet and graceless without broadswords in his hands. “I want to show what I’ve been learning, too!” he declared. Idiot boy. Foolish brat. What was he doing? He was so unlike his sister who knew her place as an extension of Ozai’s will. They were barely siblings.

He watched as Zuko took Azula’s place in front of their family and Ursa’s eyes darted wildly between her son and his father. The boy would disgrace himself if he firebent. They both knew it.

Sure enough, the boy launched into the very kata his sister had just shown mastery of, only his footwork was poor. His stance was shoddy, his flames weak. He fell less than a third of the way through the kata like a hōkan.

Ozai grit his teeth and averted his gaze. He heard the sound of Ursa rushing forward to tend to Zuko’s imaginary wounds. Perhaps he had burned himself. His control over his firebending was certainly poor enough for that to be true.

“I failed…” Zuko whispered.

“No, you didn’t. I loved watching your firebending as much as I loved watching Azula’s,” Ursa said.

There was the shameful sound of a kiss pressed to Zuko’s forehead.

“Out. Everyone but my son, leave.”

“Come now, children. Let’s let your father and Fire Emperor Azulon speak,” Ursa said, ushering Zuko and Azula out of the Dragon Throne Room.

Ozai swallowed his fear and readied his tongue; he had a request that would change his life even if it was denied.

---

Hakoda didn’t know quite how he and Kya had produced a child as argumentative as Katara. She was at it again with the other children, bickering about the correct penguin sledding technique. She was outnumbered in her fight, but Hakoda would root for her any day. Especially when she had Sakari hurrying to her defense, telling the other children that they were just jealous that everyone knew Katara was the best penguin sledder in the South Pole, maybe even the world.

Kya smiled at their children fondly as she ate. “We’re doing such a good job raising them, aren’t we?” She glanced over at him.

His heart skipped a beat even after all these years. He leaned over to kiss her. “We really are, Kya.”

“What, no credit for the world’s best fake uncle? You think you know someone…” Bato said.

She laughed, her head falling back and exposing the brown skin of her throat. “Please, Bato, you’re the best second father the girls could have asked for.”

“It’s true,” Hakoda said. Though only Kya had been given his betrothal necklace, the three of them were a family in all but blood, spilled or shared.

His mother shook her head, though. “It’s so like young people to take all the credit,” she said.

Hakoda flushed sheepishly. Of course, he couldn’t forget the role his mother played in raising her granddaughters. He offered her a helping of his food in thanks. She took it with a smile.

---

It was just like Azula to force Zuko to ditch their mother so that she could drag him off to eavesdrop on a conversation they weren’t supposed to be a part of. She was always pulling that kind of thing, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when she grabbed him by the collar of his robes as their mother walked them out of the Dragon Throne Room. It was a little weird that they didn’t immediately get caught, but Azula had been born lucky like that.

“Be quiet, okay?” she whispered.

Fire Emperor Azulon’s flames were hot even from where Zuko was squatting with his sister behind the tapestry by the entrance. He hated Zuko for his failures, and he was taking it out on Zuko’s father.

Zuko shrank in on himself.

Azula huffed slightly and yanked him closer to her so he could better see their father on his knees. “My lord father, we both know that Iroh is in no state to rule, and even if he were, Lu Ten is dead. My brother was too proud to remarry after Hanabi’s death, and so he has no heirs now. I know that he is your favored son, but please consider the future of this great nation. Make me crown prince. Abdicate to me, Chichi-ue.”

Fire Emperor Azulon’s eyes narrowed until Zuko couldn’t make out the white of them any longer. “You dare ask this of me when your brother is grieving the loss of his firstborn son? You would try to steal your brother’s birthright—”

“It was not entirely his birthright, Chichi-ue. You had our older brothers killed—”

“Silence, Ozai!” The flames grew larger, and they licked at the tapestries now. 

Zuko remembered the sharp sting of his arms when they were burned from firebending training. His heart beat in his throat. He could do nothing but flee.

Azula did not follow after him.

---

There was ash on the snow. It wasn’t a lot; the Imperial Navy must have been a few hours shy of the land, but there was still ash on the snow. Minutes ago, Katara had been playing with the other children after their meal. Now, she was struggling to breathe. There was ash on the snow, which Sakari knew meant that her little sister was in danger, and which Katara knew meant that she was in danger, and all Sakari could do was hold her sister as her chest heaved and tears flooded her cheeks.

“It’s a bad dream—I need Anaana. It’s a bad dream—I need Anaana,” Katara said over and over again. It was the worst prayer Sakari had ever heard. It grated over her heart.

“Get the adults!” Sakari yelled at one of the other kids, Aput.

He went running right away, scrambling off to find them.

Sakari stood there, holding her sister and rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry… I’m not gonna let them hurt you.” She kept repeating that, trying to make herself heard over Katara’s own mantra as the other children watched. She kept repeating it until she heard the sound of footsteps in the snow.

Aput had returned with Sakari and Katara’s parents, Bato, their grandma, the only other village elder, Kallik, and his parents, Suluk and Katjuk. “I got help like you said, Saka,” he said.

Sakari nodded. “Thanks, Aput. I—I don’t know what to do. There’s ash in the snow, and—”

“It’s okay, Sakari. You did the right thing sending Aput to go get us,” Kallik said.

“You all need to hide,” her grandma said. “By the looks of the ash, we have perhaps two hours until the Empire of Fire arrives. We will prepare for the raid, but all of you are to stay hidden until you receive the okay to come out.”

“Is that understood?” Hakoda asked.

There was a chorus of yeses from the children, except for from the still trembling Katara. Sakari would protect her, though. She would always protect her sister.

Their mother gently pried Katara out of Sakari’s side. “Katara, listen to me. I need you to be strong right now, but that doesn’t mean doing anything reckless. Do you understand?”

Katara nodded.

“Okay. That’s my girl. Don’t get caught, and stay with your sister no matter what.” She pressed her nose to Katara’s cheeks, to her forehead, and to her nose. Then, she turned to Sakari and pulled her close. “You are so, so brave, my beautiful little warrior. I need you to look after your little sister, okay? I love you both so, so much, and I can’t let anything happen to either of you.”

“Don’t worry, Anaana, I would never let anything bad happen to Katara,” she said as her mother pressed her nose all over her face to memorize her smell.

“That’s our brave girl. You’re such a good big sister,” Hakoda said. “We’ll see you both after the raid. I love you.” He pulled them both into his arms, his face pressed between both of theirs.

“Hey, don’t go doing anything stupid either, okay, Saka? You’re supposed to keep yourself safe, too,” Bato said.

Sakari nodded.

“Go hide now, my loves,” their grandma said. “We’ll see you when it’s safe. Remember that we love you.”

And then the adults were off to handle the raid as they always did. It would be all right. Sakari kept telling herself that as she took her sister’s hand in hers and led Katara to their hiding spot. It was far from the other kids’, and it was close to the village, but no one had ever found them in the little snow-forged tower. No one had ever looked in there for people, let alone for the last waterbender in the South Pole.

---

“There is something I must do,” Yōmei said.

“Of course. Attend to your affairs,” Sayaka said. She embraced him tensely before taking her leave back to their chambers.

Yōmei watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the corridor. Her footsteps, light as they were, left with her. Then he set out on his path to Iroh’s chambers. He owed his uncle a visit. It was only right that someone inform the man what his younger brother intended to steal from him. Even if it was only a hunch, Yōmei was sure of it.

He knocked on Iroh’s chamber door.

No one answered. Yōmei entered anyway.

Iroh looked a mess. He was not shaven or washed. His hair wasn’t even tied up. It was askew over his shoulders, all black and gray. His eyes were deep and sunken in his face. He looked almost dead.

But the candles lighting his room breathed with him. The only sign of life that he had given any of them since he had sat down in his chambers to grieve.

“This won’t do, Iroh-oji-sama,” Yōmei said. “You can’t sit here and mope about Lu Ten while Ozai-oji-san schemes against you.”

Iroh did not so much as blink.

“Did you hear me? Your younger brother wants to steal the Dragon Diadem from you. He’s meeting with Fire Emperor Azulon as we speak. He’s capitalizing on the death of your only son.”

Still, Iroh did not move.

“He’s capitalizing on the death of your only son,” Yōmei said, his voice sharp and urgent.

It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn Iroh said, “Let him.”

---

Azula felt like she was going to choke on her own pulse. She didn’t, though. And she didn’t throw up her heart like she was half convinced she might either. She only walked, calm and poised and regal, from the Dragon Throne Room to Zuko’s chambers. When she arrived, she slid his door open and singsonged, “Chichi-ue’s gonna kill you. Really, he is.”

Zuko went pale where he was sprawled out on top of his scarlet sheets. He bolted up with wild eyes. It almost made Azula want to take a kinder shape for him. “You’re not funny!” he said, whiny as ever.

“I’m not trying to be. He really said that he would kill you, Zuzu,” she said. It wasn’t her problem if he didn’t believe her. She was doing her due diligence; she was warning him. Azula didn’t want her brother dead, regardless of what he might believe. He was still her brother. That meant something.

He didn’t seem to realize that, though. “He did not! You’re such a liar!”

“All right. Don’t believe me. Suit yourself. Although, I bet we could find you a nice Three Kingdoms of Earth family to take you in. You could even take your broadswords since you like them so much. We’d only have to smuggle you out of the Imperial Palace without Chichi-ue seeing you.” She shrugged, feigning indifference. She kept telling herself over and over that it was true: It was all right if Zuko didn’t believe her.

He pulled his pillow over his head and started in on that incessant chant he was always falling back to when Azula told him something particularly nasty, “Azula always lies, Azula always lies, Azula always lies—”

“What’s going on here?” It was their mother. Zuko’s mother. She always came to the rescue right when Zuko cried wolf dog.

“Nothing’s going on, Haha-ue,” Azula said primly. “Ani-ue just started freaking out for no reason.”

Their mother’s eyes sharpened, though. It was just like her to not believe her daughter. “I’m sure he did. Come with me, young lady. We need to have a conversation about being nice to your brother.” She led Azula out by the wrist. She never gripped too tightly or dug her nails into the flesh, but Azula wished she would. 

It would be easier if she meant to be cruel.

When they were safely out of Zuko’s chambers and his door was slid shut once more, her mother started in on her again. “Talk, Azula. Now. What did you say to your brother? You know how sensitive he is.”

Azula huffed. “Zuko is always right.”

“What?” The woman, a sharper mirror of Azula’s own face, looked taken aback. She almost looked hurt.

Azula didn’t answer that question, though. She had no desire to spell out the woman’s favoritism to her. “After you left, I stayed behind to eavesdrop. Chichi-ue asked Sofu-ue to make him crown prince, but Sofu-ue didn’t like that, so he told Chichi-ue to kill Zuko, so he’d know what losing a firstborn son was like. I was just warning him.”

If her mother was confused before, she was angry now. “Azula, what have we said about telling lies?”

Normally, Azula wouldn’t have cared. She would have rolled her eyes and given an insincere apology. But at that moment, all she felt was anger. “I tell the truth, and I’m accused of lying. It doesn’t matter! Because Zuko is always right and Azula is always wrong!”

Her mother’s face fell, soft and sad looking. She looked heartbroken. It was infuriating. “I’m so—”

It was too late, though. Azula was scrunching up her face indignantly. She didn’t care how childish it was. “Lo-oba-sama and Li-oba-sama are waiting for me for our nightly review,” she said. And then she was running off, away from her pathetic excuse of a mother and her miserable brother.

---

“Amaterasu,” Sakari said.

“Tui,” Katara said.

They were playing a whispered game of opposites now that Katara’s breathing had calmed down enough. The raid hadn’t started yet, but they were hiding. They had to. There was nothing else they could do to protect themselves or their people.

“Peace,” Sakari said.

“War,” Katara said.

There was a pause as Sakari racked her brain to find a new word. Katara thought her sister must be looking for a word less closely tied to their circumstances. She didn’t ever find out, though.

Instead, she asked, “Am I gonna die, Saka?”

Sakari’s eyes grew watery and sad before she pulled Katara into a tight embrace. It was the kind of hug that people didn’t give unless you really needed it. “You won’t. None of us would let you die, Katara. Least of all me.”

“Thank you… You don’t have to be this brave,” Katara said. She knew her sister must be scared too. She wished Sakari could express that, but Sakari swallowed it instead. It was all for Katara’s benefit. It made her feel guilty.

“Neither do you,” Sakari said.

---

A strange opportunity had presented itself to Ozai. His wife stood before him, eyes imploring, demanding to know if their daughter was a liar and if his father had ordered him to kill their son.

“Please, Ozai, just tell me that Azula was lying,” she said. She sounded desperate. She had always loved Zuko more than he found reasonable.

“She wasn’t. Chichi-ue requested that I kill the boy to pay penance for asking him to make me crown prince,” he said.

Ursa’s face crumpled.

In her ashes, Ozai smiled. “What a beauty you are, Princess Ursa. Fret not, my darling. There is… one other way, though: Kill my father, and Zuko can survive. Get me the Dragon Throne, and your son will live. Better yet, one day he will be Fire Emperor.”

“What will become of me?” She looked grim.

“You love Zuko enough that you don’t care,” he said. It was an accusation of sorts.

Ursa contorted her face into something ugly and angry. “I love both my children.”

“You ought to say goodbye to them then. The clock is ticking, darling. Chichi-ue wants Zuko dead by morning.”

---

The men of Amarok Akuq were readying their defenses. Hakoda should have been doing the same as his peers, but his wife and mother were arguing, and he could not help but eavesdrop as he pretended to adjust his armor plates.

“Please, Kanna, consider hiding with Kallik. There’s no shame in it. We’re only trying to protect you as one of the last of our elders,” Kya said.

But his mother shook her head. “I will not let my son die.”

Kya’s face melted. “I understand. I don’t want my husband to die. But he doesn’t want you to die either. At the very least, promise me you’ll be safe.”

He couldn’t let Kya leave it at that. It wasn’t enough for his mother to make a promise that she’d be safe. Hakoda was determined to make certain that she’d be safe. “Anaana, you have to hide with Kallik. Our people can’t afford to lose you, and you know it. Don’t be stubborn on my behalf,” he said, crossing over to them.

His mother sighed. “Fine. But you be safe now, Hakoda. I made you from scratch,”

He pressed his forehead to hers before inhaling her memory. She smelled like kelp and saltwater and home, all at once. She walked off when he was done, sure to give him one good look before she was gone.

Kya pulled him into a kunik of her own. “You’re a brave man, Hakoda, but I’m a brave woman, too.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

He never got an answer. Kya didn’t offer one, and Bato was pulling him back, reminding him how urgent it was that they finish their preparations before the Empire of Fire attacked. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to talk to Kya when our people are safe.”

---

Yōmei entered the Imperial Library far too loudly. Still, he did not have the delight of having startled the young princess as she reviewed her lessons with his mother and aunt. She did not so much as flinch when he entered.

“Yōmei, is that you?” his mother asked.

“Yes, Haha-ue. If Princess Azula and Oba-sama don’t mind, I’d like to borrow you,” he said.

Li’s eyes crinkled with her smile, but Azula didn’t even acknowledge he had spoken. She continued reciting from her textbooks as if he wasn’t there. She was a complete brat in his eyes.

His mother followed him to another section of the vast library. That was the nice thing about a library like this; you could almost drown in its knowledge. Better yet, Yōmei could hide his suspicions here. His accusations would go unheard by Azula and unreported back to Ozai.

“What is it you need?” his mother asked.

“Do you know what Ozai-oji-sama needed to borrow Fire Emperor Azulon’s ear for?” he asked, low and urgent. Even with the safety of the size of the Imperial Library, he was cautious.

His mother’s face was painted with surprise. She schooled it quickly, though, taking on a stern look. “I cannot tell you the inner workings of Prince Ozai-kun’s mind. My half-brother has always kept his distance from me and Li.”

She was a liar. He knew that immediately. While Ozai kept his cards close to his chest and far from his half-sisters, Yōmei’s mother was sharp-minded. What Ozai wanted was obvious.

“You pick favorites, Haha-ue, and yet the favorite is never your only son. It always comes back to you choosing that girl over me,” he accused.

Her hand was on his cheek, tender and weathered, in a heartbeat. “I have already raised you, Yōmei. You are a fine man who does not need his mother any longer, but Azula needs guidance. We both know that for all she tries, Princess Ursa does not offer her this,” she said.

He slapped her hand away.

Footsteps echoed in the library. Li’s voice called out, “Ane-ue, Azula needs to finish her review before she can head to her chambers.”

His mother looked apologetic. Her mind was made up. He could not unmake it.

“Go. You’ve made your choice,” he said. “I shouldn’t keep Sayaka waiting anyway.” As he left, he heard the sound of the princess’ voice asking if he was nosing around in her father’s business. He cursed her, hoped that she would die where she stood.

“He was only concerned for his uncle,” his mother said.

He never heard Azula’s reply.

---

People were screaming. It was a cacophony of fear. Sakari squeezed her eyes shut to dam her tears and pulled Katara closer to her. She knew that Katara wanted out of the snow tower, that Katara wanted to protect Amarok Aquk however she could. She knew her sister thought being a waterbender meant she was strong enough to help.

Sakari also knew that it didn’t mean that. So she kept her grip on Katara tight and strong and as soothing as she could as the sounds of battle raged out of their sight.

When Sakari opened her eyes, her urge to cry finally under control, she saw the light that danced against the ash-dusted snow of their hiding spot. It wasn’t daylight, though. It was orange and hot—it was unmistakably the light of flames. It wasn’t pretty. It made Sakari’s breath catch in her throat.

Were they too close to the fight? It had never been a problem before, hiding in plain sight. No one really looked for you in broad daylight. Only these firebenders were here to look exactly for Katara. They were after the last waterbender of the South Pole. That much had been clear from the start, and clearer still when they’d announced it as if the Southern Water People would turn over one of their own like that. Like cowards.

Sakari could feel the heat of the flames too well. Sweat was gathering on her brow. She pawed at it before gripping Katara’s shoulders. “We need to move. You have to stay with me, okay? And we have to be brave. Otherwise, they’ll find us.”

“Okay, Saka,” Katara said. She slipped her mitt-clad hand into Sakari’s, and she followed when Sakari tugged to guide her out of the snow tower and into the line of fire.

“We’re not kindling, we’re not kindling, we’re not kindling,” Sakari mumbled to herself, turning the phrase over in her mind. She refused to let her little sister become kindling. She refused to be a seabed dweller as the soldiers called it.

“We’re not kindling,” Katara said with her.

Her heart ached. “I promise we aren’t, Katara.”

A jet of flames came cascading down at where their hands were interlocked. Sakari released Katara’s hand instantly, retracting her own like she’d been jolted. Katara did the same. Neither of them lost a hand, but the soldier who’d fired at them sneered. 

It was an ugly sight, all yellow-white teeth and killing intent. He was cut to kill. “I’m going to exterminate you savages.” It sounded like a promise.

Sakari dove over to Katara, trying to shield the girl with her own body.

But the blow never came.

Katjuk had clobbered the firebender over the head with a club. “Hurry up! You need to hide!”

“Thank you!” Sakari and Katara said, breathless as they started to run to the closest thing to what they could call safety, the smell of burning flesh as thick in the air as tears were thick in Katara’s throat.

---

Their children were in their chambers, but his father had not retired yet. The Fire Emperor was still breathing. Ozai looked down at the ornate Warring Earth Provinces blade Iroh had gifted Zuko, inscribed with the Tǔ Yán phrase 非战不屈: Never give up without a fight. He didn’t plan to. Even if he would have to slit his son’s throat with it after all. Ursa had plenty of time left to act on his advice, but he had been waiting a lifetime already. Even if she would be caught were she to act so early, Ozai could not help but wish the damned woman would hurry up.

He got up to look for her. He found her in a corridor that led to the Imperial Gardens, and he caught her by the wrist as she turned to walk away from him. “Chichi-ue is still working. He’s in the east tea ceremony room if you’d like to visit him, Ursa. Unlike him, I will be retiring to our chambers if you’d care to join me.”

“Would you really kill Zuko?” she asked.

Ozai smiled, tight and dangerous. “The Fire Emperor’s will is law.”

“Who else knows?” Her face was hard, her eyes bright.

“Have a good night’s rest, darling.” He chuckled to himself as he left her there to curse him as if it was anything more than fate that had led them there.

---

The raid was coming to a close. The raiders were retreating to their ship. But Hakoda couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. There was crying, and there was screaming, and there was pain splattered all around him. And he didn’t hear his wife. He didn’t hear Kya so much as lecturing someone for their recklessness as she put them back together.

Hakoda pushed his way through his people to get to his igloo. He needed to know. He needed to see Kya, alive and well. He needed to shake the feeling that something awful had happened.

The last thing she’d said to him had left his nerves prickling.

She was a brave woman. He knew that. It was part of her charm. But how brave? How stupidly, idiotically brave?

Kya wouldn’t do anything dangerous. He kept telling himself that. He kept trying to believe it.

He didn’t.

---

Zuko was having the same dream he always had when Azula humiliated him; he was dreaming of becoming a Master Firebender. His flames would grow lethal in size. Lightning would course through his veins. He would have his father’s love at long last. Everything would be perfect.

Someone shook him out of his slumber, though. He grumbled words he did not understand himself as the spell of sleep was broken and the dim light of his chambers flooded his eyes to replace the image of Azula bowing to him in awe, admiring him as all younger sisters should admire their older brothers.

“What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about that, dear,” his mother said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I just wanted to remind you that I love you. And to ask you to please listen to me, Zuko. Everything I've done, I've done to protect you.” She pulled him into a hug. It was warmer than any hug, even that of a firebender, though Zuko had only hugged three firebenders in his short lifetime. He wanted to sit there in his mother’s arms forever. He wanted to always feel this safe, even when he knew that something bad must be happening. “Now go back to sleep, my love, and don’t come out of your room no matter what you hear.”

With lead in his stomach, Zuko did as his mother asked of him.

---

Katara could smell burnt flesh still. She would never stop smelling it all over the air, all over the snow, all over herself. It was like a fog that would not let up. It wasn’t unique to this raid. Katara had only seen one other in her lifetime, but it had smelled the same. Still, she didn’t wait for her grandma to come find her and Sakari after the raid was over. She didn’t wait for anyone to tell her that it was safe to come out now.

She bolted from her sister’s side, her lungs and limbs burning as she sprinted to their igloo, their home. Something was wrong. She could sense it.

She reached the igloo before anyone else, and the stench of burning only grew stronger.

She reached the igloo, and she found her mother’s almost cremated corpse.

Sakari was too late to protect her from it.

---

It was late, and Ursa was wandering around the Imperial Palace with her broadswords. They were impeccably clean. Yōmei could see her reflection mirrored in their silver blades. He began to whistle at the sight of her.

She froze at the sound as if she had done something wrong.

“It’s awfully late to be practicing your swordsmanship, Princess Ursa,” he said. It was almost conversational. But they both knew better.

“You’re right, Yōmei-kun,” she said. “I was only—I should take them back to the weaponry.”

He smiled coldly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take them for you if you’ll let me. After all, Princess Ursa, you wouldn’t want to disturb Fire Emperor Azulon. Anyway, I’m sure my honorable uncle is waiting for you. You should go to him.” He offered out his hands for her to place the ornate black and red hilts in.

With great reluctance and disdain clear in her eyes, Ursa obliged.

---

Hakoda held his children tightly as his mother wrapped what was left of Kya in skins. Bato held him. Everything was numb. Time did not move the way it should. His heart did not beat with the rhythm he had grown to know.

Kya was dead, and he was here. Kya was dead, and he was left with their children. Kya was dead, and he wished he was too.

“Do we… Do we really have to keep her corpse overnight?” Sakari asked. She sounded pained. Like something was caught in her throat.

Hakoda gave her hand a squeeze, but he didn’t feel the sensation of it. He didn’t feel the sensation of anything. 

“Yes, Sakari, that’s what the tradition is,” Bato said quietly.

“You—you don’t have to help bring her body out through the back tomorrow, though. Not if you don’t want to,” Hakoda forced himself to say.

“I’ll help. Katara should stay put, though,” Sakari said. She was being brave again. She always was.

Hakoda thought that before, it would have broken his heart to realize that.

“I can’t not help put Anaana to rest!” Katara sounded panicked. Desperate. Afraid. She was only a girl. They were both only girls.

“You’re so brave, Katara, but you don’t have to do this if it’s scary,” Hakoda said. He needed to be their father, no matter how he felt or didn’t feel at that moment. Nothing mattered but his daughters.

There were tears glistening in Katara’s eyes, but she grunted. It was an angry sound. “My whole life has been scary, Ataata! Even before I knew I was a waterbender, I’ve always been scared! But—but we keep going!” Her voice broke.

“Hakoda, both of them clearly want to help,” Bato said gently.

His mother stopped wrapping Kya’s remains in skins. She stopped moving at all. “This is the family’s duty, Hakoda. All of us.”

“All right. All right.”

He tried to feel anything: the grief, the ache, the emptiness.

He felt nothing at all.

---

Azula rose as she always did: with the sun. She stretched in her chambers and meditated to ground her ki to her body. Her whole self was fluid as she changed into her training garments and exited her rather empty chambers. She walked through the east wing of the Imperial Palace and was about to pass by the tea ceremony room when she saw that the door was slightly ajar.

Golden eyes darted around the corridor. No one was there, and there was no reason for the door to be left open. Curiosity killed the cat hound.

Azula slid the door open.

Before her was her grandfather’s unsightly corpse.

---

The betrothal necklace around her throat felt like a noose. Sakari didn’t want it. She didn’t deserve it. She had failed to protect her little sister.

Katara was the one who should have it. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And she had found their mom all… mangled and blackened. Like soot.

Like kindling.

Sakari exhaled deeply. She unfastened the betrothal necklace that had belonged to her mother from her neck. She rolled it over in her hands. It felt as it always did, only heavier. There was a legacy to it. It had been their grandma’s before it had been their mother’s. It had been Sakari’s before it would be Katara’s.

“Katara, I—Anaana would want you to have this,” she said, holding it for Katara.

Katara looked at her with big, round eyes. “But she gave it to you.”

“Only because I’m the oldest… Trust me. She’d be so sad if you didn’t have something to remember her by other than—other than the last time you saw her,” Sakari said.

“Are you sure?” Katara asked.

Sakari nodded. “Positive. Necklaces aren’t my style anyway.” She placed it around her sister’s neck and clasped it, letting out a shaky breath but not letting her hands tremble.

“Thank you, Saka,” Katara whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

---

Acquiring the Yuyan Archers had been no easy feat. Colonel Shinu had been unwilling to part with them at first, and even once Yōmei had produced his documentation from Fire Emperor Ozai, permitting him control over the Yuyan Archers as he needed, Colonel Shinu had hated giving them up. They hadn’t much liked the idea of leaving Pohuai Stronghold in Shu Province either. But they were here now, aboard Kimon and at Yōmei’s disposal.

By all reports, they were adjusting fairly well to the sea as they charted a course to the mountainous territory above the Warring Earth States that had once belonged to nomadic earthbender warriors who had died out or been absorbed by the larger Warring Earth States population over the years. And if Yōmei’s calculations were correct, the Yuyan Archers would prove to be valuable assets in intercepting Princess Azula. According to reported sightings of the sky bison she traveled on, she was traversing to the Northern Water Tribe to find a Master Waterbender to train her. Yōmei intended to cut her off at the knees and take her back to the Great Empire of Fire. It helped that there was an old stronghold he knew of in the region. He would have a base to work out of.

“Captain Yōmei, may I enter?” Hata asked from outside his cabin door.

“Permission granted,” Yōmei said.

The door slid open. Hata marched in. “We have received a report that Princess Azula was sighted at the Iron Box Prison riot. It is believed that she temporarily headed south to drop off some of the inmates who escaped, but she should be back on her northward trek now, Captain.”

“This is good news. Princess Azula will be so happy to see us again. Especially now that the cat hound is out of the bag.” In the orange light of his own flames, Yōmei smiled. He swiped one broadsword over the other, the metal of them making a sharp shink sound. He had never liked broadswords, but they made for lovely decor.

Notes:

additional cws: unintentional misgendering and deadnaming (in the form of pre-transition flashbacks of a trans character, as a note: i tried to avoid this, but it simply did not work due to the nature of the flashbacks), parental death, mentioned filicide

translation + cultural notes:
- anaana means mother
- tuvaijaruut refers to july
- akka means uncle

up next: it’s all about the chase. team zuko unites with a bounty hunter while ozai searches for his missing-presumed dead wife. team avatar can't shake the feeling that someone wants them dead. again. see you in "the search."

Chapter 17: The Search (Book Two: Water)

Notes:

i made some minor edits to the last chapter; i just added some narration to the beginning of it to parallel the intro to book 1.

also, note that this chapter is so short because i initially envisioned it as part of chapter 16, but i think it does work better this way in terms of readability. next chapter will be much longer.

no additional cws in this one to note.

The bounty hunter connection Iroh had was apparently spending her day off in a squalid tavern. It was filthy in there. Zuko had been slumming it since he was thirteen when his exile had begun, but he still turned his nose up at the foul stench of piss and booze.

“This place is awful,” he said to Iroh.

His uncle only chuckled in response.

Mai, whose usually stoic face was scrunched up in disgust, wiped her hands inside her sleeves as if she’d touched something filthy. If she’d touched anything in the tavern, she had. “Who are we looking for anyway? What does he look like?”

“He? You’re mistaken, my dear! My connection is a woman. Her name is Jun,” Iroh said.

The corners of Mai’s mouth flicked upward at that.

“Well, what does Jun look like?” Zuko asked.

Iroh hummed. He scratched at his chin lightly. “Jun is a tall woman. Willowy. She has dark hair and eyes and the sharp features of someone from the Great Empire of Fire because of her father, but she’s from the Warring Earth States.” He looked almost smitten.

Zuko made a face.

“What province is she from?” Mai asked.

“Yue,” Iroh said.

Zuko and Mai both stopped walking through the tavern. “How do we know she’ll help us then?” Zuko asked.

“Trust me. For the right price, Jun will help almost anyone,” Iroh said. It didn’t ease Zuko’s nerves, though. Even if Jun was half Great Empire of Fire herself, she was from the Warring Earth States, and from one of the ones that wasn’t yet won in the war at that. There was no reasonable expectation of loyalty from Jun, even if they had all the money in the world.

“You’re spiraling, Prince Zuko. Stop that. Fire Emperor Ozai is funding this. We can afford any price,” Mai said. It was only half true. Zuko’s father wasn’t funding Zuko’s endeavors (not beyond the money that was still sent to his crew’s families); he was funding Mai’s.

Zuko was scum on his father’s tabi boots if he was lucky, and he had never been very lucky.

“Speak of the spirits—there she is,” Iroh said, gesturing politely to where the bounty hunter stood. She was polishing off a bottle of genshu as if it was nothing. She certainly looked like a woman who got things done. Iroh approached her. He was smiling jovially as ever. “Hello, Jun! It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” 

“The last time I saw you, you weren’t this fat, Prince Iroh,” Jun said without bowing. It came out too harsh-sounding to be without malice. Zuko immediately decided he disliked this woman.

Iroh laughed as though it was nothing more than ribbing between old friends. “Believe it or not, underneath all this fat, I’m still a Master Firebender.”

Jun laughed, but her eyes remained sharp. “This has to be your nephew. He’s the spitting image of Fire Emperor Ozai, except for the scar. But who’s the girl?” she asked, cutting through to business.

Mai made no move to bow even her head to Jun. “I’m Prince Zuko’s betrothed, Nakatomi Mai,” she said curtly.

“You brought your little girlfriend?” Jun asked Zuko. “I’m surprised you’ve even got one, kid.”

Zuko dug his smoking fingertips into his palms, making two tight fists. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your face is fucked,” she said dully.

Zuko tried to lunge forward, but Iroh grabbed his shoulder to stop him. The touch was gentle but firm. It was more than enough to ground Zuko.

“Jun, do you still have that shirshu?” Iroh asked.

“Of course.”

He glanced expectantly at Mai who produced her own knife, the one Azula had taken with her and kept all the way up until her prison break. “We need you to track the girl who was carrying this on her,” she said.

“Must be an awfully important girl if the Dragon of Death is looking for her,” Jun said.

“She’s my sister. Azula. She’s been—kidnapped,” Zuko said, trying to sell the lie. He had never been anywhere near as adept at lying as Azula was, but he thought he was competent at it when he had to be.

Still, Mai pinched her nose bridge as if Zuko had spectacularly screwed up.

“I’d be honored to bring Princess Azula back to you.” For the first time in the conversation, Jun sounded genuinely interested in what was being said to her.

“Now for the fun part. Name your price since I’ve lost the upper hand in this negotiation,” Iroh said. He chuckled lightly, but his eyes grew sharper.

“I imagine Fire Emperor Ozai is footing the bill. I hear he’s fond of the princess, so I wonder if he’d be willing to pay her weight in gold. Maybe even more,” Jun said.

Zuko cursed himself for having given her Azula’s name.

---

Ozai swept through the Imperial Palace in his regalia, bleeding gold and scarlet as he made his way to the Dragon Throne Room. He had scheduled a hearing with Saionji Hinata, after all. He had a task in mind for the ever efficient man. One not so different from the one he had given to the Nakatomi girl.

If he was going to bring Azula home, he needed intel on the savages she traveled with. Zhao had proven worthless, and Ozai would not lower himself to asking the ingrate for anything he might have noticed, which meant he also had to avoid asking the Nakatomi girl. He would turn to Saionji then. Saionji had proven himself stealthy and subtle when the situation so desired him to be. Ozai trusted the man about as much as he trusted anyone in his court.

He took his seat on the Dragon Throne, igniting the flames of the room once more. The heat of his firebending took over the room with ease. It was second nature, firebending without even thinking about it. It was as familiar as breathing.

“Send Saionji in,” Ozai said, his voice everywhere like thunder over a storming sky.

Saionji came in, his posture straight as his noble upbringing demanded, though he had never looked very much the part of someone from the Great Empire of Fire with his light hair and tanned skin. He bowed low and true. “Your Heavenly Sovereign asked to see me.”

“You may rise. I have a mission for you, Saionji.” Impatience colored Ozai. He had wasted enough time waiting on Zhao and the Nakatomi girl’s efforts as it was.

“Whatever you require, my lord,” Saionji said.

“You are to travel down to the Southern Water Tribe—not for a raid. I need you to speak with whatever elders they have left—adults, if they lack elders—and gather information about the traveling companions of the avatar, a young waterbender girl and a nonbender boy. You are to learn everything about them that you can. Do not fail me,” Ozai said.

Saionji bowed once more. “I would never dream of such a thing.” He left with those words. While the man and his family’s secret technique were quite high in standing, even in the eyes of the Fire Emperor, Ozai let his lips curl into a frown. Saionji’s middle daughter, the one that Azula was friends with, had always been a frivolous girl.

Was he making a mistake trusting her father to this task? If he could go down south without raising suspicion, he would do it in a heartbeat. As much as being Fire Emperor was a rewarding position, Ozai hated how much he had to leave to others. Few were as efficient and as ruthless as he; it was deeply troublesome that Azula could not be sent in his steed.

But if she was going to play pretend, then Ozai was going to deal with her when she was back where she belonged: at his side.

“I have another task that needs handling,” Ozai announced. “You,” he gestured to a servant, “fetch me the records for ships that left the port of Heian-kyō the ninth night and tenth morning of the Month of Erudition in the Imperial Year 2491. Fetch the port records of nearby cities as well.”

“As His Imperial Majesty demands, yes, of course,” the servant said, scrambling away.

If nothing else, it was good that Ozai still inspired fear in the hearts of men. While the Imperial Court had been whispering cruel rumors surrounding the thus far unexplained absence of Azula, he had to keep up appearances to the best of his ability.

Perhaps it was even time to give his daughter the alibi she so desperately needed if those wenches Lo and Li were telling him of reports of blue flames.

---

“So are we ever gonna talk about the polar bear dog in the room?” Sokka asked. They were camped out, hiding from the rain in what had once been the territory roamed by nomadic earthbender warriors. It had been about three weeks since they had incited a riot in the Iron Box Prison, and every time the topic of that knife Azula had lost or that Mai girl or His Imperial Jerkass, Zuko, came up, Azula found an increasingly unsubtle way to change the subject entirely.

“What, polar bear dog? Where? I love those guys. They’re so cute,” Aang said. But he was a smart kid. Sokka knew what he was doing: Diffusing the situation before Azula could throw a fit.

Katara shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think we need to talk about that just yet, Sokka.”

Azula huffed, blowing a strand of her hair out of her eyes. “No, let’s discuss it. What are you getting at?” she asked. If she was trying to sound anything other than lethal, she was failing. Badly.

Sokka hadn’t forgotten how scary Azula could be, but he also knew what a loser she could be by now. “I’m talking about how weird you get when we talk about the people who are currently actively trying to murder us. You know, your friend, Mai, and your brother, Zuko.”

“Ex-friend,” Azula spat out. “And what’s there to say?”

“I mean, how does it make you feel?” Katara asked gently. She made the mistake of putting a hand to Azula’s spine which Azula hated if the way she smacked Katara’s hand away from her indicated anything. She didn’t seem very fond of any kind of physical affection from what Sokka could tell.

“It makes me feel as if we should be more careful so we don’t run into them again.” Azula’s eyes went rolling to punctuate her sarcasm. She could be a real pain in the ass.

“What about the knife?” Sokka asked.

“Azula doesn’t need knives! She’s got her firebending—and her airbending isn’t too shabby if I do say so myself,” Aang said. His smile had a nervous flicker to it. Like a broken bone, it couldn’t be missed.

Azula grit her teeth tightly. Her knuckles were white.

“You don’t have to tell us, but we’re your family now, Azula,” Katara said.

“Yeah, seriously. You’re like the second annoying sister I didn’t want,” Sokka said.

“If you were my brother, I would’ve let Chichi-ue kill you.” Azula didn’t make any indication that she was joking, but Sokka chose to disregard that. She was a total jerk, but she was their jerk. And she was also really bad at telling jokes, so Sokka wasn’t going to write her off completely.

“Okay, as disturbing as that is and as much as we should unpack that sometime, I’m serious, Azula. If you ever feel like talking about that girl or your brother, we’re here,” Sokka said.

“Always,” Katara said.

“Even if you don’t want to talk about it, we’ll still be here,” Aang said.

Azula only hummed in response. But Sokka thought there was something like a smile at the edge of her perma-painted lips.

---

The Yuyan Archers were quiet and obedient, but morale seemed low. Yōmei had yet to explain to them much about their mission beyond the fact that they were heading for the Kyōdo Fort to capture the avatar. They seemed to have doubts about his leadership.

Yōmei would have to correct that.

Just for that purpose, he had assembled the Yuyan Archers on the deck of his ship as the fort came into view. It was raining, but most of them were not firebenders, and so Yōmei had no concern for their health.

From the upper deck, he cleared his throat. The Yuyan Archers hadn’t been speaking. Neither had Yōmei’s crew. Kimon grew quieter anyway. “Yuyan Archers, I sense your discord. Your doubt. You do not know if I have the strength needed to guide you on my mission for you. You do not believe I know as much as I have said I do about the avatar’s identity, who they travel with, what bending they have in their arsenal.

“I stand before you this morning to assure you that your concerns are unfounded. Your discord is unnecessary. I am Captain Yōmei, son of Lo and Ayumu, descendant of Agni and Amaterasu. I have earned my title.

“Now, my most honorable uncle, Fire Emperor Ozai, did not wish for this to get out more than necessary, but the avatar has left me with no choice but to disclose their identity. Her identity. 

“The avatar is one Princess Azula. She travels on a flying bison with inexperienced children—an airbender, a waterbender, and a nonbender training in the jingum. While Princess Azula is, of course, to be treated as a serious threat, especially since she has shown some mastery of airbending, her companions are more than manageable. Do not worry about them. Your concern is to draw Princess Azula away from them so that we may take her captive, but alive, back to where she belongs—the Great Empire of Fire.

“I understand that to attack a member of the Imperial House of Fire is unheard of, but Princess Azula forces our hand the longer she plays pretend with these insolent brats. I authorize you to use any non-lethal means necessary to bring her home. Do you understand your task?”

The Yuyan Archers chorused their response in perfect unison: “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Dismissed!”

Yōmei smiled to himself, pleased. It didn’t matter what Fire Emperor Ozai thought of this move. He had sworn Yōmei to silence, yes, but he had given Yōmei permission to utilize the Yuyan Archers, too. He had to feel backed into a corner. Azula had put him there—the brat. When she had fought Yōmei, revealing herself to his crew, that had been one thing, but inciting a prison riot? Pulling off a prison break?

She was asking for it. She always was.

---

There were only three ships in the port of Heian-kyō that Ursa could have fled on late that night or in the early hours of the morning that followed it. All of them were merchant ships. Easily traceable even if he hadn’t been the Fire Emperor. One had crashed in Yan. It had been monsoon season, after all.

The wreckage had been searched. The merchants and crew onboard hadn’t survived.

Their cargo had been opera masks.

Ursa was from Hinokuchi, the pillar of kabuki theater. She had suckled on the teat of performance as a young girl, and her passion for the art had never died. Ozai could remember being dragged into private booths to watch plays for as long as Ursa had finally given up and allowed him to court her. He could remember that damned kabuki show that the boy had been enamored with, Love Amongst Dragons.

If there was any cargo ship that Ursa would have chosen, Ozai was certain it would have been that one.

And he wouldn’t accept the idea that Ursa had merely drowned with the ship. Not until he investigated its wreckage himself.

Notes:

i’m gonna stop replying to Every comment from here on out bc it’s a little exhausting, but i still appreciate the interaction with my content even if i don’t get to reply to yours! thank you so much for reading this silly fic of mine; it means the world to me that you’re interested in the world of utterpok

up next: maybe there is love amongst dragons. zhao puts his twist on a classic. an old passion of zuko’s is reignited. azula gets closer to learning what it is to be the avatar. see you in “the blue spirit.”

Chapter 18: The Blue Spirit (Book Two: Water)

Notes:

this is very very late. jeez. just incredibly overdue. well, sorry about that but life happens sometimes, and i spent this month doing a lot of things. i’m quite proud of this chapter, though, and i’ve been very excited abt it the whole time i’ve been waiting to post it. i hope you like it as much as i do.

Jun had never cared much about morality. Not really. Not when she could help it. Sure, the Empire of Fire was scum, but they were wealthy scum. She wasn’t going to pass up payment just because the customer was awful. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all. That didn’t mean she liked working for the Zuko brat or the Dragon of Death. The ex-prince’s little girlfriend wasn’t someone Jun was thrilled to be around either. She could hardly believe the girl liked being around Jun or the ex-prince. Maybe she was fine with the Dragon of Death, though. Little murderer in the making.

What was the harm in bringing a runaway princess home anyway? The girl couldn’t be as prodigious as the rumors spoke of if she’d been kidnapped, although Jun doubted that was the whole truth. In all likelihood, the princess had run away following some dispute with her father. She would be returned home one way or another, and this way, Jun profited. If she won, that was all that mattered. The war would be unchanged. There was no blood on Jun’s hands.

She brought the knife to her shirshu’s nose for him to sniff. “We’re going to find this girl,” she said.

“Is that thing really going to be able to get Azula’s scent off that?” the brat asked.

Jun’s eyes rolled up into her skull in annoyance. “Nyla is going to find your sister. We’re not amateurs like you, boy.”

She could feel a jump in the temperature even when his palms didn’t ignite, but she was unfazed by it.

The Dragon of Death grabbed his nephew by the shoulder firmly but not roughly. “Yes, and we’re so thankful for your services, Jun.”

Her eyes sharpened. “Of course you are, Prince Iroh.”

“Anything to find Princess Azula,” Mai said dully. Her eyes didn’t look dull, though. They looked bright and fierce. Almost sincere. It was off putting.

The princess clearly meant something to her, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“Right. She’s going to be the crown princess soon, isn’t she? Must be an awfully remarkable girl,” Jun said.

“She’s awful all right,” Mai said. Her lips twitched as she said it.

“She’s not going to be the crown princess. I’m the firstborn,” the brat said, puffing his chest out like it would make him look like a man and not a boy.

“Of course. Secondborn son Fire Emperor Ozai’s exile notwithstanding, you’ll be a fine crown prince. Though, I’ve never heard anything about your firebending. I’m sure it must be more than substantial if your younger sister is a prodigy,” she said as Nyla sniffed around to catch a whiff of Princess Azula in the air.

Ex-prince Zuko’s fingers sparked at that. A humiliating display of a complete lack of control. It was all Jun needed to see to know she was right about him.

“Oigo-kun!”

“You have to let it go, Prince Zuko,” Mai said. Her voice sounded grittier now.

Zuko closed his eyes and took a seething breath.

Before anyone could speak again, Nyla lunged forward.

“Look at that. He’s got her scent.”

---

They were eating their last meal of the day, two snow rabbits they’d managed to hunt with leftover rice and miso and measly fruits they harvested, when Azula said it. “Mai is more dangerous than Zuko, and my uncle is more dangerous than both of them combined. You know that, though. You’ve heard about his reputation, haven’t you?”

Sokka dropped his makeshift plate, Katara blinked owlishly, and Aang openly blanched.

“Uh, yeah, we have,” Sokka said. “They call him the Dragon of Death.”

Azula nodded. “He hasn’t lived up to it since he got his son killed in the Six-Hundred-Day Siege of Ba Sing Se, but don’t ever mistake his laziness for weakness. He’s still every bit as dangerous as he was back then. He’s just fatter now.”

“We know… What about—um, what about Mai?” Katara prompted.

Azula’s head jerked down sharply. She squared her jaw. “Mai is a weapons master. You probably noticed that. Projectiles, archery, swords, she’s particularly fond of knives, but she’s always deadly. She was my—we went to school together. At the Imperial Fire Academy for Girls. It’s an elite military academy for noble girls in the Empire of Fire. She’s a year older than me, but her parents waited to enroll her until I was old enough to start my schooling. They presented her to me,—they presented all the noble girls around my age, but she was the only one who wasn’t interested in being friends with a princess, so I picked her.” She paused tensely. No one dared to interrupt or even breathe. “She was the only one who could ever really challenge me. Well, there was another… but Saionji never wanted to. Mai was—she was different.”

“She was your best friend,” Aang said, slow and tender like rubbing a bruise. But it was still too loud, too much.

Azula flinched.

“And now she’s hunting me down to bring me to my death,” Azula said.

“Maybe she doesn’t think your dad will kill you,” Sokka said. He was met with two glares, one from Azula and the other from Katara. “Sorry. Trying to be helpful. Bright side and all that.”

Azula squeezed her eyes shut.

“What about your brother? Is there anything… I mean, do we need to know anything about him?” Katara asked.

Azula extinguished the fire. “My brother is an idiot.”

Just like that, the conversation was over.

---

Mai had to admit, Jun was good at what she did. In only a matter of days, she’d gotten them back on Azula’s trail. According to Jun, they were close now. Very close. Mai wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

Half of her wanted to go to bed and wake up to discover this had all been some awful, elaborate dream. It made about as much sense as one; the Azula who Mai had grown up with would never do this, even if she was somehow the avatar. The other half of her wanted to drag Azula and Zuko both home and pretend that she had never chosen Azula only for Azula to abandon their country, the Dragon Throne, and everything they’d ever been raised up to believe, to abandon Mai. She wanted this spirit-forsaken mission to end. She wanted her life back.

Iroh was making tea for them all. They were resting for now, the four of them. Five if you counted Nyla. Mai didn’t really count the shirshu, though. It wasn’t like he was going to have some of Iroh’s tea.

“Tea is served!” Iroh called out cheerfully.

Mai was already sitting by the fire, but Zuko and Jun made their way over to receive their teacups.

“I want an update. How close are we to my sister? Enough with the vagueness!” Zuko snapped, not even taking a sip of his tea first.

Jun cocked an eyebrow as she sipped from her teacup. “Even with this break, we should be a few hours behind the princess and her… captors. A day at most,” she said.

Zuko’s face opened, his eyes widening and his jaw going slack. “A day at most?”

“Look at that. You can parrot things back to me.”

He burst onto his feet. “You can’t talk to me that way! I should—”

“Be so thankful that Jun here has leant us her services,” Iroh said, cutting Zuko off.

Zuko only glared at him for his interruption, not seeing the favor Iroh was doing for him. “She should be thankful that we would even consider her for this! The honor she’ll gain and the glory she’s bringing to the Great Empire of Fire should be more than enough payment for her!” It was so typical of him to go off the handle at the first perceived slight against him. He was always doing this. Mai knew that she should reel him back in soon if Iroh couldn’t.

“How honorable is it to bring home a brat who had a fight with her father?” Jun snorted.

“It’s honorable to bring the avatar to justice!” Zuko spat.

Mai felt the blood drain from her face. Zuko was a fucking idiot.

“The avatar?” Jun asked coldly.

“Prince Zuko hasn’t been feeling well lately. Excuse his inane ramblings,” Mai said, bowing.

“My nephew says such strange things sometimes,” Iroh said. He sounded tense and distinctly uncomfortable. “Princess Azula is a talented firebender, but she is not—”

“Don’t lie to me, you fat fuck,” June said. “Princess Azula is the avatar. I’m a lot of things, but imperialist scum isn’t one of them. I won’t help you bring the avatar to her death. The deal is off.”

Zuko lunged forward, palms blazing. “You can’t do that! You can’t back out now when we’re this close!”

Iroh grabbed him by the torso, restraining him desperately. “Prince Zuko!”

Mai flicked her wrists to arm herself with shuriken, unsure of who she was preparing to fight. Jun was the enemy now, that much was clear, but Zuko was turning out to be a hazard at best and a liability at worst. Maybe she had made a mistake in seeking out his help to bring Azula home. Maybe there was no way for the two of them to ever return to how they had been before his exile.

Jun didn’t even flinch, though. “Our deal was to bring home a princess, not the avatar, so we never really had a deal at all when you think about it..” She walked over to Nyla and got onto his saddle.

“I’ll double your pay!” Zuko said hysterically. “Triple it!”

“From what I’ve heard of Princes Azula’s skills, and from what I’ve seen of yours, you’ll bankrupt your emperor before you capture the avatar. Anyway, you’re not the one footing the bill from what I understand. Your father is, and he’s doing it in your girlfriend’s name,” Jun said.

“… Let her go, Prince Zuko,” Mai said. “We gain nothing from killing her, and she’s brought us this far already. We can find Azula on our own.”

Something in Jun’s eyes glinted at that. The use of only Azula’s given name.

But Mai kept herself even. Nice and neutral. Like nothing was wrong at all.

Zuko looked at her, his eyes full of betrayal.

Mai looked away.

---

Ozai stood with his hands clasped behind his back in his imperial quarters. He was illuminated only by the orange glow of the candles which he controlled with every breath he took. His bright, golden eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He was waiting as patiently as he could as the waterbender prisoners from the raids scoured the ocean.

If there was any sign of his wife, they would find it, or he would see them sufficiently punished. Not that there was a punishment good enough for them if they failed him. Death was too kind. Perhaps the pulling of their teeth, then their nails. They had already been sheared like dogs and had all tattoos disfigured to brand them as what they were: criminals of the highest degree.

Parasites.

Savages.

The Great Empire of Fire could not share its light with them. The sun did not touch their land outside of the summer, and neither would firebenders. It was beneath them.

As was overseeing the prisoners’ work. Ozai knew that his men would do that for him. It was not a matter of trust. He did not operate with such fragile tools. It was a matter of duty, honor, and respect. All things he cultivated with his men, with his nation, with his family. Wife, daughter, son—they all knew to bow to his will. Azula would return, but in the meanwhile, Ursa could suffice.

His eyes snapped open, and then footsteps, soft but urgent, became audible outside his quarters.

“Enter,” he said before the man could knock.

He did as he was told, a cold sweat on his brow. He bowed, low and humble. “Your Heavenly Sovereign, the savages discovered something.”

“Proof of life or death?” Ozai asked.

The man gulped. “Death. Fire Emperor Ozai, they found her grandmother’s locket among the shipwreck.”

The candlelight swelled. Ozai did not move a muscle. 

Ursa had been reluctant to take the locket off even to bathe. She had never let Ozai so much as touch it. She never would have parted with it. Not willingly.

“My wife is dead.”

---

There was a figure in the distance. There shouldn’t be a figure in the distance. The northernmost part of earthbender country hadn’t been inhabited by anything but the Pohuai Stronghold since the nomadic warriors who had once traversed it had been absorbed into the larger earthbender population. It wasn’t the right silhouette to be an imperial soldier, and the Yuyan Archers traveled in hidden packs, not in the light of day.

Still, Azula squared her shoulders, prepared to attack as needed.

Aang readied his glider defensively.

Appa roared, and even Momo squawked.

But Katara and Sokka simply gaped.

“Is that—” Sokka asked.

“It can’t be,” Katara said.

“Can’t be what?” Aang asked.

The figure was running toward them, becoming more and more pronounced. And then a face was visible. A face colored with familiarity and joy and something akin to grief but not quite so miserable.

“Sokka! Katara! What are you doing here?” the man said, his words coming out jumbled and breathless.

“Akka!” the siblings exclaimed together, rushing to meet the man in the middle and embrace him.

Azula furrowed her brow and frowned. This man was clearly part of the Water People, but he did not look anything like Katara or Sokka. Still, they clearly knew him. They could be brash and reckless and idiotic, but they weren’t actually stupid enough to run up to a stranger, let alone a dangerous one.

Her breath hitched as she watched Katara and Sokka each take turns pressing their noses to the man’s face and having him return the gesture.

He was a close friend then. He couldn’t be a relative. But what was he doing out here all by himself?

The man finally seemed to register Azula’s presence. Azula’s features. He pushed Sokka and Katara behind him and raised a club up. He didn’t say a word, but the message was clear.

“Akka, no! Azula is our friend!” Katara said, grabbing his arm desperately.

“Yeah, serious. I know she’s ashmaker scum, but she’s our ashmaker scum!” Sokka said.

“Azula?” the man asked. His voice was different now. Scared.

Aang laughed nervously. “Sir, my name is Aang. I’m your niece and nephew’s friend, and I promise you, Azula wouldn’t hurt any of us. You don’t have to be wary of her.”

The man—Katara and Sokka’s uncle—studied Azula, his eyes dark. “She’s the crown princess of the Imperial House of Fire. Isn’t she?”

Azula cocked an eyebrow. She felt electricity in her veins. Lightning, ready to be bent. But her mind was not clear. This man was Katara and Sokka’s uncle. Here he stood, protecting them. Meanwhile, Azula’s own uncle was hunting her down with her brother. “Technically, no, but I am Fire Emperor Ozai’s daughter,” she said.

“She ran away recently!” Sokka interjected.

Azula couldn’t find it in her to roll her eyes. She only muttered, “That’s one way to frame it.”

“More importantly! Azula is the avatar. She wouldn’t hurt us,” Katara said.

Her uncle froze. The only part of him that moved was his eyelids to blink. “This is the avatar?” he asked slowly.

“Yes,” Sokka and Katara said.

“I’m her airbending master,” Aang added.

Azula said nothing. She couldn’t stop staring at the way that Sokka and Katara’s uncle had not moved from his position, shielding them. She couldn’t fathom that sort of thing. A world where family was a tender thing, crafted to care for you even if they knew they were facing down what could be their death.

“Azula, this is Bato. He’s not really our uncle, but he’s as good as one,” Sokka said.

He wasn’t even blood, and he would die for them. Would her aunts die for her? Would her father? Somehow, the answer for her aunts was not clear. Somehow, the answer for her father was the second sharpest truth she’d ever known.

The sharpest was that her mother had died for her brother. The sharpest was that her mother would not have done the same for her.

“Well… if Sokka and Katara will vouch for you. It’s an honor to meet you, Aang and Avatar Azula,” Bato said, “but you didn’t answer my question. Why aren’t you home with the others? Did something happen? Is your grandma okay?”

“We’re traveling to the North Pole to find a Master Waterbender to train Azula—and me, but what are you doing here, Akka? We thought—” Katara cut herself short, not wanting to say the awful things that she had thought and not seeing the way Azula’s face was overcast with something even she could not name.

There was static filling Azula’s head and lead in her arms as Bato finally began to lower his defenses at least somewhat to explain that he was traveling to the North Pole with the other remaining men of the South Pole, but they had stopped to make some repairs to their ship following a run-in with the Empire of Fire. She was somewhere outside her body as the words came out of his mouth.

“It’s not looking good. There’s only your father, myself, and five others still left standing, but we’re determined to make it to the North Pole to finally make contact with our brethren and get help to everyone back home,” he said.

“Ataata’s here?!” Katara and Sokka both exclaimed.

“Can we see him?” Katara asked.

“Is he—is he okay?” Sokka asked.

They sounded choked with love.

“Oh,” Aang said softly.

Katara and Sokka’s father. The thought hadn’t crossed Azula’s mind. Not truly. It had been easier to think of him as an abstract thing that did not matter, would not interfere with anything. A force so unlike her own father, but so distant that Katara and Sokka almost felt—familiar. Azula didn’t want to linger on him, didn’t want to know him, didn’t want to see how he wasn’t her father.

“Of course, you can see him,” Bato said. “He’ll be so excited to see you again. Spirits know I am. If—if your friends are okay with it, I can take you to him now.”

Both of them had lips split from smiling cheek to cheek.

“I’m fine with it!” Aang said, but he didn’t sound as cheerful as he was trying to.

“Here or in the North Pole, you’ll see him anyway,” Azula said too harshly.

But no one scowled at her. Katara just looked at her with big blue eyes. Sokka’s shoulders sagged. Aang’s eyes were wider than ever. Even Momo and Appa looked sad.

“I know you don’t—I know your father is a total jerk, to put it lightly, but I promise, our dad is a good man. He won’t hurt any of us,” Sokka said.

Azula flinched.

Aang put a hand on her shoulder and Momo flew over to nuzzle her neck. Suddenly, she was hit with the reminder that Aang was an orphan. In a way, so was Azula. It was different, she knew that. But both their childhoods were casualties of the war.

She shifted closer to him. He had been loved, she knew, but he had not been mothered or fathered. He was like her. He wasn’t like Sokka and Katara who had lost a mother but had known her tenderness first.

They were the other.

---

Aang was trying to keep an eye on Azula as they made their way through earthbender country to the abandoned docks where the men of the Water People waited for Bato to return with food. He could see how distant she looked, and he could see how sore this subject was for her. He didn’t blame her.

It was sore for him too.

Katara and Sokka were chatting away with Bato, glancing over occasionally to check on Azula, but it was him who was looking out for her.

He nudged her shoulder with his. He said in a low whisper for only her, “I never had parents. Not really. Not—not the traditional kind that everyone else did. My parents died when I was a baby. They caught a fever, and it just—it didn’t get better. So I never knew them. I was raised by the monastics instead, especially Gyatso. He was—the closest thing I had to a father. Everyone tried to look out for me, but… I wish I’d known my parents. I—”

“You don’t wish you’d known them,” Azula said sharply.

“What?” he asked, blinking.

“All they do is—all mothers do is—” She was staring owlishly off in the distance.

He looked over at the tree she was staring at. There was nothing there. Only the red of the leaves and the shadows of the trunk. But Azula kept staring.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Haha-ue,” she breathed out. It was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it at all.

“Azula?” He reached out to touch her, to see if she would react well as she had before. To see if he could anchor her to this moment, to him, to all of them.

But Azula was off, running after nothing.

“Azula!” Sokka called out, trying to chase after Azula, but she was faster than him.

“Azula, where are you going!?” Katara shouted. “Aang, what happened?”

“I thought you trusted her,” Bato said.

“She said—I think she saw her mother,” Aang said.

“Isn’t her mother…” Katara couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

He understood.

“She knows that! She wouldn’t just—she wouldn’t abandon us for nothing!” Sokka said. He sounded desperate.

“It’s not nothing. Not to her. The avatar can access the spirit world, Sokka,” Aang said quietly.

---

Azula was running, her breath coming out more ragged than it had in years. Any tenets of good firebending form had gone out the window. She didn’t need to puppet herself to be a prodigy right now. The only fire in her was in her veins, blossoming down to her stomach. She was out of control and stricken with grief and angrier than she had ever been all at once.

She was her mother’s daughter for the first time since she had been cut out of the woman like a tumor.

And she was chasing the vision of her mother. Tawny eyes like Zuko’s but a face like Azula’s, taller and older and the worst woman Azula had ever known.

Her mother was dead, but she was here, and she was fleeing, and Azula would hunt her down if it was the last thing she ever did.

“Come back here, Haha-ue!” she roared.

And then her shoulder stung sharply, and something flooded her system, and the world was turning black.

---

It was more luck than skill that Zuko managed to witness it, but he still witnessed it. Even without Jun’s skills, he found the avatar. In the thick of the woods as Iroh and Mai set up camp some distance away, he watched quietly as the Yuyan Archers carried her limp body away.

They must be working for Zhao, that bastard.

He had to do something. He couldn’t let Zhao have even one drop of the glory and honor of returning the avatar to the Great Empire of Fire, let alone all of it. But what could he do now that Zhao had custody of Azula? Steal back what was his, the sister that should kneel to him and the honor that he had a birthright to, but how?

---

Yōmei had received the perfect birthday gift. Better than he could have asked for, really. He wanted to pretend to not know what he had done to earn such a blessing, but he knew exactly how he had suffered and toiled for this day. The avatar handed to him on a silver platter. His cousin, the traitor called Princess Azula, made to bow before him.

It was exactly as he deserved.

He entered the cell in which the avatar was being held with this thought in mind.

Azula was shackled by her wrists and ankles to the wall. She looked frayed, and her clothes were the peasant clothes of the Three Kingdoms of Earth. And her hair had been removed from its phoenix-tail. He thought he should have it sheared to boot, but he would have to leave such a thing for Fire Emperor Ozai to decide.

“Hello, Princess Azula. You’ve looked better,” Yōmei said, smiling.

“Zhao,” she hissed. Her eyelids looked heavy, but her eyes were still horribly bright, even in this oppressive darkness. If she had not been secured to the wall, still half-sedated, and deprived of the sunlight down here, Yōmei would have flinched back at the sight of them.

But he was safe and strong, and she was weak and unworthy. Her loyalty was a transient thing, shifting with the wind. In the end, she was nothing more than a mercurial girl who had been allowed to believe she was great for far too long.

“The mythologized avatar is nothing but a little girl after all,” he said. “Of course, I’ve always known that’s all you are, Azula.”

She spat at him, splattering his face with her saliva.

His chest rumbled at the disrespect of this brat. He wiped her spit off his face and closed the distance between them to smear it over her own face. He grabbed her by the jaw and tugged. “Your father has given me clearance to take you as a prisoner for your crimes against the Great Empire of Fire. You have lost favor with even him, who you thought you had bent to your will, but it was always you bent to his. You have dishonored yourself and sullied our family with it, so why should I call you by a title you forsake, you treasonous little bitch?” he snarled.

Azula cooled. Her body lost its tension. She did not even blink at the feeling of her own spit across her face. “At least I have honor and good blood to sully. You are nothing. You have always been nothing. And you would stoop so low, to childish jeers when speaking to a woman of my stature, when I am the first girl to survive the Imperial Sparks Test in generations, when—”

“When you are nothing more than the secondborn daughter who was just lucky enough to be born with a modicum of talent and an even more disappointing, dishonorable brother, Azula. I owe you no respect, and the likes of you cannot harm my honor,” he said.

His breathing was harsh while Azula’s was so even he wasn’t sure she was breathing at all. He didn’t want to know. He had no use for her. This had not brought him what he wanted.

This girl was still the girl his mother favored above him.

---

“You need to retrieve the avatar,” Iroh said. But Zuko already knew that, had been painfully aware of that from the moment his father had exiled him, had become even more aware of it when the truth about Azula had come out. “But I cannot go with you to do so. Not if she is in Yōmei-kun’s clutches.”

“What? Oji-sama, how do you expect me to do this alone?” Zuko asked.

“Gee, thanks for remembering I’m here too, Prince Zuko,” Mai said. Her arms were folded over her chest in an almost casual manner. Zuko couldn’t be sure, but he thought she must be on edge too. Even Mai couldn’t be numb in the face of this. She didn’t deserve to feel nothing when she had stood by and allowed Jun to abandon their cause.

When she had called Azula so familiarly even in the face of her treason.

“Ah, who can say? It’s almost like in Love Amongst Dragons, isn’t it? When the rightful emperor must face down great odds with only the Red Spirit as his ally. What fond memories you must have of that play. You know, Mai-chan, my nephew packed that Blue Spirit mask he’s had since before… Well, he packed it before we left Heian-kyō. He’s always admired the Blue Spirit. Who can blame him? He’s such a heroic character. Ah, but once, after losing it and seeing a Red Spirit mask while we were in a colony, Prince Zuko begged me to buy it for him. I did, of course, but we found the Blue Spirit mask a week later. He keeps both masks with his training and ceremonial broadswords in his quarters,” Iroh said. It was such a useless thing to ramble on about. “I think it’s time that I retire for the night. I’m quite tired. Good luck to you both.”

The reminder of the mask that Jeong Jeong had gifted him and of the broadswords his mother had commissioned just for him before she had vanished stung. Maybe he should move the broadswords, though. They had no business being next to something a traitor had gifted him.

Mai beat him to his quarters, though.

---

The Blue Spirit slipped through the shadows of the Pohuai Stronghold. There was one clear mission: Retrieve the avatar at all costs. He would not fail.

He was light as could be on his feet as he crept through the corridors, armed and more than ready to kill.

There were two men at the end of this corridor. They were talking in quiet murmurs, complaining of their captain and his inclusion of the Yuyan Archers.

The Blue Spirit tilted his head curiously. Such a petty dispute was almost amusing when he knew what fate awaited these two.

He was on them in a moment, slitting the throat of one of the men and dropping the corpse down the floor in another.

“What the—the Blue Spirit?” the other man asked, backing away from where his comrade had fallen.

The Blue Spirit only nodded. He made no move to attack this man.

The man did not do the same.

The Blue Spirit sighed and took him down as quickly and efficiently as possible. He would have to find another way to alert Captain Yōmei to his and the Red Spirit’s presence in the Pohuai Stronghold.

---

Azula was seeing things. She was sure of it now. She had imagined her mother where she was not, and now she was seeing the Red Spirit in the doorway of her cell. Or maybe she wasn’t seeing things. Maybe this was another of Zhao’s tricks, a man in a mask sent to torture her. It was so like him to think her sentimental enough to be bothered by something from her child.

He didn’t know that her sentimentality had only ever been held like a grudge, nostalgia a weapon to wield.

“You don’t scare me,” Azula said simply. She wasn’t entirely lying. He didn’t scare her. She was scared of the thought of seeing things that weren’t there, of losing her mind, not of a memory. Memories had no power. Not really.

Reality and the loss of it did.

The Red Spirit paused. He sheathed his broadswords. Was he not here to scare her after all? He approached her slowly as if she was a wild animal he might scare away. As if she had any way to run like this.

As if the memories he represented had been painful.

They weren’t. Not entirely. There had been good times on Hinokuchi, watching kabuki, re-enacting the fight scenes from Love Amongst Dragons with her brother.

Against reason, Azula relaxed her body as the Red Spirit freed her from her shackles. She was still too weakened from the sedation to escape on her own. She would have to trust the Red Spirit, even temporarily.

---

Bato’s head was swimming. They were still searching for Avatar Azula, and he had yet to return to Hakoda and the others with the food he had secured. They must be so worried, but he couldn’t leave Katara and Sokka now, even if they were obsessed with finding a princess of the Imperial House of Fire. It was insane, but he would stand by them.

Even as they argued.

“Azula wouldn’t abandon us,” Aang said firmly. “She’ll be back, I know she will.”

“It’s been three hours, Aang!” Sokka said.

“She could be hurt! We have to find her!” Katara said.

“Gee, I wonder what we’re trying to do right now,” Sokka said.

“You being a jerk isn’t helping!” Katara said, getting in her brother’s face.

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. “Enough! Azula wouldn’t want us to fight! I know we’re all scared, and we miss her, but we have to stick together if we want to help her! Wherever she is right now, she needs us as much as we need her. Okay?”

“Aang is right. You need help to find the av—your friend. And I need to get back to the others. After they eat, they can help you look for her. You should eat, too,” he said.

Aang’s eyes flashed wildly. “No! No! The last time I put off looking for someone—she was dead. Azula isn’t dead. She needs us now. I’ll take Appa and Momo, and we’ll search aerially. But I’m not leaving now. Not when our friend needs us.”

Katara and Sokka both softened. They embraced Aang.

“We’re not letting you do that alone. We’re coming with you,” Katara said.

Sokka nodded. “Seriously. You’re our friend too. Team Avatar sticks together, even when Azula is being stupid. We’re gonna find her, then we’re gonna yell at her for scaring us, and then we’ll eat. Akka, you go back to Ataata and the others. We’ll join you once we’ve got Azula back.”

There was no changing any of their minds. Bato could see that, and he would respect it.

---

There was chaos in the Pohuai Stronghold. Eight of Yōmei’s men were dead. Three Yuyan Archers were dead. The Blue Spirit was here. The avatar was missing from her cell.

He had to clear his head. He had to think of how this could have happened. The Blue Spirit wasn’t real. The masks were sold endlessly, yes, but who could be donning it to play pretend like this? Who could be donning it against the Great Empire of Fire? To steal the avatar from the claws of justice was one of the highest forms of treason imaginable, second only to actually assassinating the Fire Emperor yourself.

Yōmei would have to rally his forces and put an end to this. He had already drafted a letter to the Fire Emperor about his success, and now he had ordered the remaining Yuyan Archers to assemble and stop the Blue Spirit no matter what. He would still be able to send the letter out. He was sure of it.

Still, he made his way to the courtyard of the stronghold, standing tall on its balcony. The walls of the stronghold were high and proud. The Blue Spirit would come running soon, and then he would be rid of that nuisance.

Only, it wasn’t the Blue Spirit who emerged with the avatar in tow.

It was the Red Spirit.

Yōmei hissed a curse. Of course. It had been a distraction. That was why the Blue Spirit had been so brazen. There was not one traitor but two. 

The Red Spirit and the avatar both surveyed their surroundings, and then the Red Spirit put a blade to her throat.

She was useless to Yōmei dead. Fire Emperor Ozai didn’t want his daughter dead. He wanted her returned as his weapon, beaten back into her subservient state.

“Lower your weapons!” Yōmei called out to his men. “Let them through!”

He watched with sharpened eyes as the Red Spirit made his way out, Azula in his possession. He watched as the two of them made their grand escape above and beyond the walls of the stronghold. And then he gave the order: “Shoot the Red Spirit in the leg.”

The avatar could be reclaimed yet.

---

Azula heard it before she saw it. The Red Spirit yelped in pain as an arrow pierced his thigh, and he thudded to the ground.

Zhao’s men were closing in already. It was her or them, and the Red Spirit would only drag her down even lower than she already was, still feeling the effects of the sedative in her system.

But looking at that mask, remembering her mother’s face as it had appeared to her today, as it had appeared to her her entire childhood, she couldn’t leave him.

She sighed. “What would Haha-ue say if I left you?” She wasn’t asking him, not really. He hadn’t known her mother, but the question stood. She was the avatar, and the avatar couldn’t be the monster her mother had believed her to be.

She squeezed her eyes shut, split her ki, cleared her mind, and said a prayer to the spirits and to her past lives.

Help me. Help me. Help me. It was a mantra. It had to be answered.

A thousand voices spoke to her in unison, “Avatar Azula, we are with you. The universe is inside of you. But what you ask for is dangerous. Know that you won’t have forever. Save him. Save yourself.”

And Azula felt a rush of power surge through her, lighter than anything she had ever borne. It was water, it was earth, it was fire, it was air, it was the entire world inside her. The sluggish haze had fallen apart like meat from the bone.

When she opened her eyes, they were beyond bright.

She was the avatar, and she would protect the Red Spirit as she would protect any spirit, any person. The world needed her, and she would answer its call.

She could feel her body bending the elements more than she could choose to do it as Avatar Kyoshi took over, then Avatar Yangchen, then Avatar Kuruk, then Avatar Roku, on and on it went until the spell was broken and the men were gone and she was not where she had been and there was only her and the Red Spirit left.

---

He was supposed to have been here by now with Azula in tow, so where the hell was he? Mai had removed her Blue Spirit mask by now. Zuko was captured by Captain Yōmei or maybe even the Northern Water Tribe, so close to this territory, or he was dead, or worst of all, he had decided to take Azula in without her, abandoning her here as he had abandoned here in Heian-kyō all those years ago.

She should go to see if Inari was still docked safely with Iroh and his crew on board, or she should return to the stronghold to see if he was dead or injured or captive, or she should stay put because he was chronically late to everything and if she left, he might finally arrive and think that she was wounded or captive or dead.

Mai sighed, closing her eyes. She hated Zuko.

She hated all of this.

There had to be something more she could do.

---

The Red Spirit sat where Azula had placed him, unable to flee with his thigh still stabbed through. She hadn’t taken the arrow out even after it had broken in two. She knew better than to remove it before she could treat the wound.

She frowned.

He was cowering. Positively trembling. Like she was some sort of monster.

Her mother had given her looks like that before. She had never full-bodied shaken, though. It had only ever been in her eyes. Monster. All over those tawny eyes that Zuko had inherited. Monster. All over his eyes too.

It wasn’t a fear like this, though. This was true terror.

Her mother and brother had only ever been afraid of what she could be. The Red Spirit was afraid of what she was. There was a difference between the two, one that Azula had always known somewhere inside of her. This was the difference, starkly painted on his skin for her to see even beneath his mask.

There was a chill. There was always a chill this time of year, when winter neared. It was more pronounced under nightfall when Amaterasu did not watch over them. Azula was fine with this kind of a chill as a firebender, but even if the Red Spirit was a character from the mythology of the Empire of Fire, Azula didn’t think that this iteration of him was a firebender from the way he had commanded his broadswords with such grace. Firebenders didn’t tend to waste time developing such skill with nonbender weapons.

Azula did the only thing she knew she should: She started a fire. It was not a proper fire like what she would have made for Aang, Katara, and Sokka, confined to sticks and wood. It was a fire confined to her hand only. Blue in color as always and burning warmly.

He flinched away even further.

“If I was going to hurt you, I’d have done it by now.” She sighed. Her friends would have told her that was not reassuring to say. She changed strategies. “I can’t waterbend yet, not on my own, so I can’t heal your leg that way, but I can cauterize the wound if you let me. You just have to trust me the way I trusted you tonight.”

It was strange to say. A declaration that she had trusted him. She never trusted anyone. Least of all in the aftermath of Mai’s betrayal.

But then again, she was trusting her friends, wasn’t she? Even calling them that was… vulnerable.

She wondered if they were worried about her. She would have to return to them soon. She was obligated to. She wanted to.

The Red Spirit’s trembling hands raised to his mask. He removed it slowly.

It wasn’t some noble hero. It was her brother.

“I only saved you so I could take you to Chichi-ue instead,” he said. “That’s what you placed your trust in.”

Azula couldn’t help it. She let out a short, derisive laugh. Of course, her brother had saved her to shackle her himself. She should have known. She should hate him more for this. “Well, that’s not surprising, I suppose. Who else would have broken me out like that? Honestly, Zuzu, pretending to be the Red Spirit and breaking into the Yuyan Archers’ stronghold just to spite our dear cousin, it’s just like you. You always loved theatrics. Just like Haha-ue.”

Zuko had the good sense to look embarrassed if not ashamed.

But she barrelled on. “Is it me you’re afraid of or the thought of flames touching you?” she asked. It was important that she get an answer.

Was her big brother afraid of her, or was he afraid of what he saw of their father in her?

She could understand the latter. He must still have nightmares about the Agni Kai. Azula did sometimes. It had certainly been a demonstration in their father’s willingness to brand them as his even when he dismissed them entirely. A branding of Zuko’s failures across his face.

Azula had a burn scar in the shape of a handprint wrapped around her right bicep. 

Zuko knew this because it was his fault she had it, or so she liked to tell him when his gaze caught on it like meat in his teeth. 

After the kotsuage of their grandfather, Azula had stolen the chopsticks used, tucked away in her sleeve. She had eaten with them at every meal that followed for days afterward, her spit slicking the spaces that their grandfather’s nodobotoke had been held between. She had picked tempura vegetables from broth like bones from ash, swallowing them with a smile sharper than any blade. 

Their father had let her, unblinking and unsmiling, until Zuko’s mouth had twisted and he had demanded to know why she would do something so wretched. And then their father sighed and clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He had demanded to see her arm, and Azula had bowed to his will. 

For their father, she had burned.

The scar had faded with time, but the memory had not.

It was so typical of their father. It was so typical of Zuko. It was so typical of Azula.

She knew that as she waited for Zuko’s painfully slow answer.

His mouth opened wordlessly for a long while. And then: “Both. I—I can firebend, you know that, and I can be around others doing it, but… the thought of you being that close to me, holding fire the way Chichi-ue did…”

“It’s unnerving,” she said slowly like the words were sticky in her mouth. In a sense, they were. “Well, brother dearest, either I do it, you try and screw it up like you always do, or you hobble back to our fuddy-duddy uncle and ask him to do it if you can even hobble that far without running into Zhao’s men or the Yuyan Archers first. So… pick your poison.”

He glared at her sharply. He wore their father’s face, but he looked so much like the image of their indignant mother like that.

What’s wrong with that child?

Azula’s eyes burned like the rest of her. She did not back down. No matter his intentions, her brother had saved her. She was not going to kill him like this.

Finally, he relented. “Fine. You can—you can do it. Just… nevermind.”

She huffed slightly. Gripping the fractured arrow with one hand and holding flames in the other, she did it in one smooth motion. The arrow came ripping out of his thigh as her other hand came down to clamp the flames as gently as she could to the site of the wound. The flames were small. They were borderline docile. They were nothing like their father’s flaming hand over Zuko’s burning eye.

Still, Zuko screamed just as rawly as he had at the Agni Kai.

“It’s almost over,” she whispered softly, too softly for him to hear she hoped. She didn’t know what possessed her to soothe his pain. She had never done so before. She wasn’t the nurturing type.

Maybe it was its own act of cruelty.

She removed her hand. The wound was burned shut where it had been wide open seconds before.

It was clearly still tender, though. Zuko clutched his leg and heaved in pain. He hadn’t blacked out from it like he had at the Agni Kai. She could remember that day so clearly. Piss down his legs and the smell of burnt flesh in the air. Her mother’s kohl around her eyes and imperial red over her lips.

She hadn’t looked away. She had stared with bright eyes at the sight of her brother’s marring, not willing or wanting to tear her gaze away from it for a moment.

What if their father had seen her avert her eyes?

She would have been no better than Zuko.

When his harsh breathing began to even and the tears bleeding from his eyes began to slow, Azula spoke. “No one ever told you the truth about that day.”

Zuko stared up at her with wild eyes. His cheeks were soaked. He looked like neither their father nor their mother in that moment. Azula had never seen either of them like that.

She wondered if she looked any better with her hair still down, her spit dried over her face, and her makeup smeared with it. But she kept going.

“It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t bad luck. Chichi-ue was waiting for that opportunity from the moment Haha-ue died—”

“Vanished,” Zuko interjected automatically. He said nothing else. He only waited for Azula to make any of this make sense to him.

“Your tutors told you how behind you were, didn’t they? They told you what a disappointment you were to him. They told Oji-san the same. That’s why he helped you get into the war council meeting, wasn’t it? Even though everyone thought you were too young to sit in there with him. Even he did. But he wanted to help you because Chichi-ue had been making it known how much he hated having you as his heir.

“Then he baited you into speaking up against him, violating the laws of filial piety, committing an honor-based crime. Did you even know that’s what it was? You were so behind in your studies… That’s why he challenged you to an Agni Kai, Zuko. They’re not just duels about honor. They’re punitive legal tools. He fought you himself so he could brand you honorless and exile you.

“None of it was accidental. He created an opportunity, and he seized it. He always wanted you gone. He sent you on a fool’s errand because he knew you would never be strong enough to defeat and capture the avatar,” she said. It felt good to say. It felt powerful. It felt cruel.

It felt like something Zuko needed to know.

But Zuko was covering his ears and chanting, “Azula always lies, Azula always lies, Azula always lies, Azula always lies—” like they were children all over again.

She smiled.

She hadn’t been lying then either.

“What do I have to gain from lying to you now?” she asked.

His breathing was erratic again. His eyes darted around wildly, trying to find some kind of reason she would lie.

He settled on one. It burst out of him. “To convince me to stop trying!”

“I don’t have to do that. I will always beat you,” she said. It was as much a fact to her as the weather was.

“Then it’s so I’ll join you!” He was beyond reaching.

Azula rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you,” she said coolly.

He stared at her with desperate eyes. He searched her face. He wanted to find the tell-tale mark of a lie that he knew didn’t exist. He wanted to see if he could ever believe her.

Azula didn’t think he could, but she let him try anyway.

And then he did something that didn’t surprise her in the least. He grabbed his broadswords by their hilt. He didn’t attack her, though. He set them at his phoenix-tail, and he hacked through it violently. He was a madman on a mission.

Her breath hitched as he went limp once the hair on his head was finally off. It wasn’t a clean cut at all. It was uneven and messy, but his phoenix-tail was gone.

Any last pretense of honor had been claimed.

She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Her mouth hung half open and her eyes were intent on the sight of his sheared hair.

“Azula!” That was Aang.

“Azula, where are you!?” Katara.

“Seriously! It’s not cool to disappear on us!” Sokka.

This was her chance. She could take her brother prisoner to her friends and Bato and the other men of the Water People or even kill him. He was weak, and she was strong. He was lucky to be born, and she was born lucky.

Only, she didn’t feel that way.

She brought a finger to her lips and slipped out of the clearing and toward the sound of her friends’ voices.

She couldn’t explain to anyone why. Least of all herself.

---

Azula was long gone when Zuko finally made his way out of the clearing to find Mai. He stumbled around, too tired and confused to call out her name. Eventually, after what must have been a half an hour, he found her.

She had been on the verge of murder when he saw her in the distance, but when she saw him, she dropped all of that annoyance in a heartbeat.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where’s Azula? Did she do that to you? Did Captain Yōmei?”

Zuko sighed. “The Yuyan Archers happened.” He didn’t bother answering her other questions. He didn’t know how to anyway. Not really.

Instead, he draped an arm over Mai’s shoulders, and she began to help him to walk. Together, they made their way to Inari in relative silence. There was only the sound of their breathing. Zuko’s was heavier than Mai’s. It was harder on him, all of this. Everything was always harder on him.

When they finally made it back to the lower deck of Inari, Iroh dropped his teapot. It shattered against the steel of the floor, its fragments shooting out like spikes.

It spilled out of him immediately, all of his concern. “Oigo-kun, what did they do to you? I’m so sorry. I should have been there to protect you—”

Zuko caught him by the arm, outstretched to inspect him for any more injuries, any more damage.

“Was Azula lying to me?” he asked. He didn’t specify what about. He couldn’t think to do so. He didn’t think he had to.

“Oigo-kun—”

He growled low in his chest. “About my exile. Was. She. Lying?”

Mai inhaled sharply.

Iroh averted his gaze as if to hide it. Zuko could see why anyway. Shame. It colored him entirely.

Both of them.

He could do nothing but look between them in horror. In anger. “How could you—both of you—you hid it from me?” he demanded. “Why would you do that? Does everyone know?”

Iroh exhaled gently. A confession. “Oigo-kun, I could not bear to break your heart any further.”

He made a sound that could only be described as animalistic. He looked to Mai. What did she have to say for herself? What defense was there for what she had done? What Iroh had done?

What his father had done?

Mai said nothing.

“Get the fuck away from me!” he spat out. Sparks left his fingers and his mouth alike. He was angrier than he’d ever been, coming completely unraveled.

It was all a lie. Iroh’s decision to come with him, the last three years searching, Mai joining them, everything.

He was not a prince at all.

Notes:

up next: azula meets the parent, ty lee's father comes face to face with kanna, team zuko's fractures are explored, and team avatar finally make it to the north pole

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Utterpok-verse