Chapter Text
Rivka of the North.
(Riv-kah)
A title that had followed said man through much of his life thus far. "Old Man Rivka", "Master Rivka", and "That Wandering No-Good" all were familiar titles he'd picked up over the years. Hailing from the Northern Water Tribe, hence his title, Rivka had spent most of his adult life travelling over waters to Water Tribe outposts to make sure they had defences against the Fire Nation and their attacks.
Rivka was known for his dark hair worn in a half-up-do, with the most extended parts of his hair reaching mid-back. He was getting closer to greying, not that he'd admit that to anyone, and his sideburns were speckled with more white than he'd like. He was not old; he was just aging early for his thirties, something he contributed to his lifestyle habits. He still wore a customary braid in the loose part of his hair, a gift from home before he became a traveller. He also had his share of scars here and there, particularly the tip of his right ear, which was burnt from a close call he nearly didn't make.
That landed him in the present as a group of Fire Nation soldiers left in a great huff. The regular tax collectors had become more local bullies than overseers of previous Water Tribe-owned outposts near the middle of the Earth Kingdom. The Fire Nation military occupation was new, but it was expected from the way the war was going. Rivka had played back and forth with ownership of outposts like this many times, but often, as soon as he left, the Fire Nation would sneak in and reclaim some of the land he'd won back. This was one such, although it had almost been a year since he'd been so far close to warring territories on Earth's border.
This particular group was a mix of faded Water Tribe heritage mixed quite nicely with an Earth Kingdom's waterfront colony. Rivka was happy to see the harmony these people made for themselves throughout all the confusion and back and forth with the war. There was a tiny group of about forty left here, most of which were families who were especially good at hiding their benders or, for the current predicament, non-benders. The Fire Nation was still adamant about capturing and imprisoning benders of other elements, and Rivka wanted to know what ends they thought it served.
"Uncle, what's that?" one of the children, Balin, asked with his finger pointing to the sky.
Above the worn village was a huge creature flying languidly downward; the soft change in the air had Rivka's chest twinge in warmth. Surely the rumours, if they were true, meant this could only be one thing. A sky bison, from what he had heard, a creature native to the extinct Air Nomads.
"I believe it is a friend," Rivka mused as more people gathered near.
He was their current line of defence, and he had just stirred the metaphorical pot with the Fire Nation yet again.
"Should we hide?" one of the adults asked.
"If you wish, I do believe we have a special visitor; however, I will not judge," Rivka answered as he checked the state of his spear.
By this point in his life, he had many forms of combat under his belt. He could deflect most military archers with his tribal spear, and he was not afraid to show those skills to any potential threats.
Thankfully, the group that became visible when the assumed bison landed was nothing more than a group of teenagers. To his intrigue, two people wore Water Tribe blues, and his native colours also branded him as familiar to them... Then there was the boy in orange and yellow. Old nomad colours.
"You're Master Rivka?" one of the Water Tribe kids asked as they approached, his eyes widening, "You are Master Rivka! It's been years!"
Try as he might, Rivka didn't immediately recognise the kids. He had seen many Water Tribe kids in his days, and two teens coming out of nowhere and calling his name was not new.
"Where about do I know you from?" Rivka greeted with a curt wave, "Seems to be a tribe somewhere further south with how you wear your colours."
"We're from the Southern Water Tribe," the boy spoke again somewhat proudly, "I'm Sokka, and this is Katara; you helped our tribe a few years ago in one of our worse snows when most of the warriors had gone."
"Hakoda's kids," Rivka nodded, remembering, "A pleasure to cross paths again."
Katara, some years younger than her brother, looked awed when she saw Rivka. He didn't want to know what idealisation had just happened in under two minutes. The younger boy in nomad clothing had yet to fully approach, something seemingly on his mind as he looked past Rivka.
"Welcome to the settlement, kids. However, you've come at an awkward time. The tax collectors and I just finished a disagreement. If they find out who I am, they're quite likely to launch anything from an attack to a raid," Rivka informed.
"My name is Aang, and it's a pleasure to meet you," the youngest finally smiled and introduced himself with a bow.
"If my guess is correct, then it should be me bowing to you," Rivka humoured as Aang jolted in surprise, "The formality is appreciated. If you wish to restock your supplies, now would be a good time to do so. I'll be around if you need me."
With that, Rivka turned his attention back to setting up enough supplies to combat a platoon if need be. For some reason, his chest felt tight, as it always had before he fought Firebendes. Maybe his body misinterpreted fear; fire was a quick way to accidentally hurt someone compared to some other elements.
Almost expectedly, Sokka had decided to see what he was doing and if he could help set up defences. Sokka approached cautiously, his eyes darting to the spear Rivka balanced against a barrel.
"You really think they'll come back that quickly?"
Rivka shrugged, inspecting the edges of his spear for wear.
"It depends on how offended the taxman felt. Fire Nation pride has a funny way of speeding up poor decisions."
Sokka chuckled, though there was a nervous edge to it, "Well, if they do, you're not exactly alone this time. We can help."
Rivka glanced at him, his brow lifting, "You? The last time I saw you, your greatest achievement was building a sled out of broken crates."
"Hey!" Sokka bristled, his hands on his hips. That sled worked, and I'll have you know, I'm a warrior now—a defender of my tribe."
"Ah," Rivka said dryly, setting the spear down, "A self-declared warrior. Those are my favourite kind."
Sokka opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Katara interjected as she approached, carrying a water skin.
"Ignore him, Sokka. Rivka's just teasing. Right?"
Rivka gave her a slight smile.
"Mostly. It's good to see that your tribe still fosters resilience. It'll serve you well."
Katara handed Rivka the water skin, her gaze steady and curious, "You don't remember us, do you?"
"I remember your father," Rivka admitted, taking a sip from the water skin, "Hakoda left quite the impression. A natural leader, that one, but children blur together after a while. You grow fast and change faster. Still, I see the family resemblance."
Katara beamed, though her expression softened as she asked, "Do you think our father is okay? He went to fight in the war."
Rivka's expression turned thoughtful.
"If Hakoda's out there, then he's fighting with every ounce of strength and wit he has. You'd do well to carry that hope with you. It's what he'd want."
The siblings exchanged a glance, their unspoken worries evident. Before the conversation could deepen, Aang's voice cut through the tension.
"Master Rivka!" Aang called, bounding over with his staff. His youthful exuberance seemed to catch everyone off guard, "You're a Waterbender, right? I could feel it—there's something spiritual about you. Are you connected to the spirits?"
Rivka tilted his head, studying Aang with a mix of amusement and caution.
"Connected? That's a strong word. But I listen when they whisper."
Aang's gaze sharpened, his usual cheerful demeanour replaced with something more contemplative.
"Your spirit... it feels like it's tied to something big. Almost like-"
Rivka cut him off with a raised hand.
"Careful, young Avatar. Not every thread needs to be unravelled right away. Besides," he added with a smirk, "You've only just met me. Don't go diagnosing my destiny just yet."
The subtle acknowledgment of the feeling left Aang blinking, unsure how much Rivka truly understood about his own significance, but the moment passed as Rivka turned his attention back to Sokka.
"Since you're so eager to help, you can start by scouting the high ground," Rivka instructed, "There's a ridge overlooking the settlement. I want your eyes up there in case our fiery friends decide to bring reinforcements."
Sokka nodded, puffing his chest out, "You got it. Katara, you coming?"
"I'll stay here," she said, her gaze lingering on Rivka.
As Sokka jogged off, Aang and Katara remained near Rivka, their curiosity about the enigmatic Waterbender evident. Rivka busied himself with reinforcing a makeshift barricade, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Kids these days," he muttered under his breath.
"Kids who are here to help," Katara quipped, crossing her arms.
Rivka chuckled, the sound low and warm, "Fair enough. Let's just hope help doesn't become a liability when the fire starts flying."
It didn't take long for the Fire Nation troops to start their approach alongside the group of local tax collectors. Rivka happily wandered towards the gates to meet them halfway. Leaving his spear at the barricade, Rivka casually strolled up on his lonesome while the kids and villagers watched from behind his defences.
"Captain, is it?" Rivka greeted the soldier behind the tax collectors.
"Captain Shu," the fully armoured Firebender greeted stiffly, "Rivka, I assume."
"Correct," Rivka smiled, "Would you like to talk shop first? I believe we can resolve this without conflict."
"You say that like you didn't threaten our men," Shu snapped, "You alone have cost this colony their protection so kindly granted by the Fire Nation."
"Not if it's daylight robbery, Captain," Rivka amended with a smile, "Surely the barracks aren't spending all the money on amour when this cohort hasn't even smelt combat in the last month?"
"You dare-!" The tax collector is cut off by the Captain, "So we're in the wrong for upping the costs of our services?"
"Given these people can hardly eat, yes. You'd be better off to have them prisoners you feed if you won't allow them to generate revenue for you and survive," Rivka deadpanned, "Your choice, not mine, but I do fancy myself a liberation here and there."
Captain Shu promptly shot a fireball at Rivka. The fireball streaked through the air, its heat palpable even from the distance of the barricade. Rivka, however, didn't flinch. His hand moved fluidly, pulling water from the water skin Katara had brought over earlier in a graceful arc. The liquid swirled in a tightening spiral before meeting the fireball head-on, extinguishing it in an impressive burst of steam.
Rivka sighed, shaking his head as if disappointed while in a Waterbending stance.
"Captain Shu, really? I was trying to have a civilized conversation."
The Fire Nation soldiers tensed, some reaching for their weapons. Shu glared at Rivka, his composure slipping.
"Enough games! Surrender now, or we'll take this village by force."
Rivka tilted his head, his easygoing demeanour never faltering, "Force, you say? That's a bold statement, given your current circumstances."
Before Shu could respond, Rivka shifted his stance slightly, his movements unhurried yet deliberate. The puddles from the steam's aftermath trembled, then stretched outward, snaking toward the soldiers' feet.
"You see," Rivka continued conversationally, "I've spent quite a bit of time studying people like you. Men who think firepower makes them invincible. But fire's tricky, isn't it? It needs fuel and control. It burns out fast when it's not nurtured. Water, on the other hand... it adapts. It surrounds. It waits."
The soldiers shifted uneasily as the water coiled closer, glinting menacingly in the sunlight. Shu's jaw clenched.
"You're alone, Rivka. Do you think you can take on all of us?" Shu challenged.
Rivka chuckled, his voice low and calm.
"Alone? I'm never alone, Captain."
With a sharp motion, Rivka lifted his arms, and the water at the soldiers' feet surged upward, freezing into jagged icicles that stopped mere inches from their throats. The soldiers froze, their expressions a mix of shock and fear.
From behind the barricade, Sokka let out an impressed whistle, "I think he's got this."
"Rivka always has this," one of the villagers muttered, awed by the display.
Shu's confidence faltered, but his pride wouldn't let him back down.
"You'll regret this," he hissed.
Rivka shrugged, the icicles melting back into water and retreating to his sides, "Maybe. But for now, I think we'll call this a draw. Go back to your barracks, Captain. Reassess your choices. Or don't. I'm sure we'll meet again."
Shu glared at him, his fists clenched. With a sharp motion, he signalled his troops to retreat.
As the soldiers turned and began their march back to the horizon, Rivka exhaled and turned to the villagers. His expression softened, his previous playfulness returning.
"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Katara stepped forward, her admiration evident.
"That was incredible! The way you handled the water is so effortless."
Rivka smiled, brushing off her praise as he returned the water to the skin.
"Experience, kid. It comes with time, practice, and a few close calls," He gestured toward the villagers, "Now, let's shore up these defences. I doubt Captain Shu is the type to let this go quietly."
Aang, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke.
"Rivka... that was amazing, but there's something else."
Rivka turned to him, curious, "Oh? What's on your mind, Aang?"
Aang hesitated, his gaze flickering to Rivka's chest, then back to his face.
"When you bent the water, I felt... something. Like there's a connection between you and... something bigger."
Rivka's expression became guarded, though his tone remained light, "Bigger, huh? Must be the theatrics. Waterbending does have a certain flair."
But Aang wasn't convinced. He could feel a faint but undeniable resonance, like a ripple in the spiritual currents. Whatever it was, it left a question lingering in his mind: Who or what was Rivka truly connected to? After such a recent connection to the spirits, Aang wasn't in a position to guess.
After fixing up the barricades and having dinner, Rivka trailed off down to the shoreline where his home lay beached on the sand. His small boat, coloured like those traditionally from the northern tribe, looked like a slice of home to the team Avatar kids, who couldn't help but follow after him. It was well loved, he lived and travelled on his vessel as attested by the bags of supplies, bedding and clothing somewhat tidily put aside. Putting his spear nearby, Rivka took a moment to take the ocean from their position.
"What questions do you kids have?"
"Can you teach us Waterbending?" Aang asked without hesitation that youthful joy plastered on his face.
"How long do you expect to stay here?" Rivka asked without turning, although he took a seat on the sand.
"Well, we were on our way to the Northern Water Tribe to find a Waterbending Master," Aang awkwardly answered, "But having found a Waterbender on the way..."
"Do you just keep travelling?" Katara piped in, somewhat sadly, "Isn't it lonely?"
"Hmm, if I were to stay in the North, that would confine me to where several Waterbenders already are. I travel because I can fight, and I can fight well. On that note, however, I will not teach you anything more than basic stances, as I am ill-equipped to teach others."
"Why?" Aang bluntly asked.
"My Waterbending isn't very traditional; I suppose you haven't seen other Masters to know... The others are uniform in their practice and are a lot calmer in their approach to bending. I have tested the ways and used my connection to water to create a unique bending style for myself. While they do consider me a Master Waterbender, I am also somewhat of a disgrace to tradition in that sense," Rivka mused, "Much like you may struggle, Katara, to find a reasonable Master in the North."
Katara seemed confused on the matter but didn't ask more, for Aang was quickly approaching, looking like he was brimming with questions.
"What do you mean 'non-traditional'? From what I remember, that was some of the smoothest Waterbending I've seen."
"Following the cycle, I suppose you've yet to learn other elements?" Aang nodded, "I'll give you one demonstration before I lay down for the night."
Rivka popped up and swiftly pulled into a stance that none of the kids clocked immediately. Suddenly, Sokka yelled out in shock, "That's a Firebending stance!"
"One of the most common, yes. This will be based on a Firebending stance."
Rivka swiftly pulled water from the ocean with a smooth, deliberate motion, his body transitioning into a stance that indeed mirrored those of Firebenders. His feet were firmly planted, his movements direct and forceful, yet the water he controlled seemed to flow with an elegance that betrayed the aggressive foundation of the stance.
"You see," Rivka began, his voice calm as he manipulated the water into a swirling orb, "Firebending relies on drive, focus, and an unrelenting forward energy. It's aggressive by nature, but that doesn't mean it can't be applied to water."
With a sharp step forward, Rivka thrust his hands outward, and the water orb shot across the beach like a bolt of lightning, crashing harmlessly into the waves. He turned to the group, who stared at him with wide eyes.
"Waterbending is often seen as defensive, reactive. But I've learned that sometimes, a proactive approach is what keeps you alive. Firebenders understand that. They act; they don't wait. I've taken that philosophy and melded it with my connection to water."
"But... isn't that dangerous?" Katara asked hesitantly, her brow furrowed.
"It can be," Rivka admitted, his tone thoughtful, "Fire is dangerous when unchecked. Water is adaptable, yet it can overwhelm when wielded without care. The key is balance, understanding the strengths of both and knowing when to pull back."
Aang tilted his head, his curiosity bubbling over, "So, you take the strengths of other bending forms and mix them with Waterbending? That's... amazing! Isn't that what the Avatar is supposed to do?"
Rivka chuckled, shaking his head.
"Maybe, but I'm no Avatar. I'm just someone who's been in enough battles to know that tradition only gets you so far. Adapting to your enemy and learning from them can mean the difference between winning and losing. Or living and dying."
Sokka, still visibly shaken by the Firebending stance, crossed his arms.
"So, you're saying you learned how to fight Firebenders... by being a little like them?"
"Precisely," Rivka said, grinning, "You don't fight fire with fire. But you can fight fire by understanding its nature. Anticipate its next move. Mimic its rhythm, and then, you drown it."
Katara's face softened, her earlier hesitation replaced with admiration, "I've never thought of Waterbending that way. You're not just defending it; you're evolving it."
"Exactly," Rivka agreed, his expression serious, "If we stay rigid in our traditions, we risk losing to an enemy who changes faster than we do. Water is life, yes, but it is also survival. And survival requires growth."
Aang was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Rivka, that's incredible! Could you teach me how to think like that? Even just a little?"
Rivka smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, "Maybe tomorrow, kid. For now, the ocean calls, and I'd like a moment of peace before whatever mess tomorrow brings."
He turned back to his small boat, seating himself at its edge as the moonlight cast shimmering reflections on the waves. Team Avatar lingered for a moment, exchanging glances, before quietly retreating to let Rivka have his solitude.
Notes:
*edited 15.03.25
Chapter Text
The following day, Rivka woke up bright and early, having changed into his undershorts at the crack of dawn across the ocean. After a few stretches on the beach, he swiftly wandered into the chilly ocean water to finish warming up for the day. He followed through his set of stances and forms, moving from one nation to the next before simply allowing himself to exist for a moment.
Something about today was different. He felt it in the tingles of his chest and something that scratched at the edge of his senses. His hair was sticking to his face, and his prominent muscles tensed as he felt people approach. Looking over his shoulder, he was relieved to see the groggy kids from Team Avatar. He took a moment to glance at his reflection in the water. His icy eyes looked back at him stormily. Perhaps he'd better decompress with more katas before he started the day properly.
All that got put on hold when the Avatar flung himself into the water, only to bend himself back towards the sky, yelling about how cold it was. Rivka could only look on, confused because, yes, it was cold—it was the ocean. Nonetheless, he began approaching the group as Aang threw his clothing back on, and Sokka and Katara made themselves look busy.
Rivka was dense but not dense enough not to see all three kids looking at his physique with different looks on their faces. Aang, disgruntingly, was most interested in the middle of his chest before the others even noticed something there. He was midway through bending the water off himself as he got onto the sand, so when Aang asked his question, he almost froze the water.
"Do you know who's on the other end of your mark?"
Sokka and Katara suddenly both started talking over each other to make up excuses for Aang's social blunder.
"I'm guessing their meaning may have changed in society's eyes in the last hundred years," Rivka mused bluntly, avoiding the question.
He also decided that now was not the time to debate the logistics of someone living 100 years and still looking twelve—somehow, that was neither here nor there.
"Are they not celebrated anymore?" Aang looked lost, "The Air Nomads especially held those baring soulmarks in high regard."
"They're so rare these days. If you didn't say it, I wouldn't have thought it was real," Katara murmured, "There's been so few soulmarks and even less to meet each other. It's far more common to see faded marks."
"War isn't a good time for anyone," Rivka mused, "Much less those who the spirits have deemed to be a pair. Fortunately, somebody is still alive for me, if not a very temperamental individual, but I have yet to meet them. The mark has not changed since birth."
Perhaps he hid years of discomfort too well; Rivka hadn't often thought about his soul mark these days and even less when he was constantly putting his life on the line. They were indeed rare these days; he'd only ever seen an Elder's faded mark in his life, and he doubted he'd ever seen another lest the war finished. These soul marks were curious things, typically two symmetrical brands on a person, other times images that unified into one image. The only strict rules they obeyed over time were that they changed upon meeting the other half and that if the other half passed, they'd fade to a washed-out grey instead of their original colour.
Rivka's mark was complicated to those who had seen it: a flowing circular flower-like pattern with a negative circle in the middle holding the shape of a crescent moon. In his home tribe, it was seen as a good omen, the moon representing his connection to water and, as the Avatar sensed, his connection to the spirits. That said, he'd never felt more than temperamental sparks of warmth through his mark, and he almost didn't expect more at his age.
"Is it the mark of lovers?" Aang, yet again, innocently asked as Sokka let out a hiss of stress.
"Aang! You can't just ask those things!" Sokka cried at the current social blunder.
"How were the marks seen back then, Aang?" Rivka asked instead, hoping for some interesting perspective.
Aang paused, his expression softening as he thought back to his time with the Air Nomads.
"They were seen as a sign of balance," he explained, "Two souls connected by the spirits themselves, destined to teach each other, challenge each other, and grow together. It wasn't always about romance. Sometimes soulmarks were platonic like two parts of the same song, harmonizing."
Rivka's expression shifted subtly, his icy eyes flickering with a glimmer of interest, "An intriguing perspective. I hadn't considered they might not always be romantic; that notion may be well lost to time."
Aang nodded eagerly, "Exactly! The monks believed that soul marks were about more than just love; they were about purpose. Two people were brought together to change the world or each other in a way only they could, although the bearers often knew once the marks met."
"That's... poetic," Rivka admitted, though his voice carried a note of hesitation, "I suppose in times of peace, one might find solace in such interpretations, but in war..."
"War makes everything harder," Katara murmured, her voice tinged with sadness.
Rivka turned to face the ocean, his gaze distant, "War doesn't just make it harder; it makes it dangerous. A soulmark ties you to someone in a way that's beyond reason. It makes you vulnerable. If the other half of your soulmark is an enemy, what then? How do you reconcile that?"
The group fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a heavy fog.
"Is that why you avoid yours?" Aang asked softly, his question careful but direct.
Rivka glanced back at him, his face unreadable, "I don't avoid it, kid. I just don't chase it. My life is my own, and I've come to terms with the idea that whoever they are, they're not part of my fight."
"But what if they could be?" Katara pressed, her brow furrowed.
Rivka hesitated, the question cutting deeper than he'd expected, "Then that's something I'll have to deal with if, or when, it happens. Until then, I have a duty to those who rely on me. That's all I can focus on."
Sokka, eager to shift the mood, clapped his hands together, "Well, enough of this deep-soul stuff. Rivka, you were about to show us some of your non-traditional Waterbending, right? Let's focus on that before we get too philosophical again."
Rivka chuckled, the tension breaking just slightly, "Fair enough. Let's see if you've got what it takes to learn something new."
As he prepared to demonstrate another unique technique, the kids watched intently, their earlier questions lingering in the back of their minds. Rivka's soul mark, his past, and his unspoken fears were mysteries they didn't fully understand - but in his quiet resolve, they saw a strength that inspired them nonetheless.
Perhaps it would have been enough to teach the two benders new skills simply, but Rivka was keen to put his focus far away from his soul mark and into something, so he trained with Sokka using his pick of Fire Nation weaponry to spar the boy. He'd mimic his water the best he could to fire to show the three show to spar better with what they had - even if it jarred him to be teaching literal teenagers how to fight Firebenders.
Come midday, after an early breakfast snack, the group was hungry for lunch. It was unfortunate that mid-bite, the tax collectors and Captain Shu's platoon decided to come back and bother them. Rivka was a bit tired from the nonsense and was at a new level of personally wanting these guys to leave him alone when there was more motion from behind the platoon.
Smartly, Aang was hiding away with the siblings, watching the interaction, ready to intervene, although Rivka could guess Aang would jump in without hesitation if desired. That didn't stop a very rarely worn military uniform from peaking through the back of the squad up to the front. Caption Shu looked a tad pale through his faceguard when the slightly more decorated soldier walked through the lines.
"Rivka of the North," the newcomer greeted, his fists held tight.
"And who might you be, Colonel, General?" Rivka guessed at the man's rank, although he'd be a bit more scared if here were the latter.
"We have been ordered to request your immediate surrender under General Li's direct and immediate order."
"Colonel," Rivka swiftly went in with this man's lower rank, "What does General Li want with me?"
"The orders came quite fast after yesterday; I'd hate to think who gave the order, savage," the Colonel bit back, "Surrender or be taken, prisoner."
Rivka raised an eyebrow at the Colonel's sneer, his face a mask of calm.
"General Li wants me, does he?" he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "I didn't realise I'd left such an impression."
The Colonel bristled, his fists clenching tighter, "This isn't a negotiation, Waterbender. You'll surrender yourself, or we'll take this entire village to smoke."
At this, Rivka's gaze hardened. His icy eyes scanned the lines of soldiers, noting their stiff postures and the nervous twitch of the younger recruits. This wasn't just a squad; it was a show of force meant to intimidate. And worse, the Colonel had just openly threatened innocent lives.
He could fight them, maybe even win. But the cost? These people, the village he'd fought to protect, could be caught in the crossfire. And Rivka couldn't stomach that. Not for his pride.
"Fine," Rivka said suddenly, his voice cutting through the tense silence. He raised his hands, palms open, "You want me? You've got me."
"Uncle Rivka, no!" Balin, the youngest villager, cried out from the barricade, his voice trembling with fear.
"Quiet, Balin," Rivka said gently, though his tone left no room for argument, "This isn't the end. Just a temporary... detour."
From their hiding place, Katara gasped, her hands clenching into fists, "We have to do something!" she whispered, her voice urgent.
"No," Aang said firmly, though his eyes were filled with conflict, "He's protecting them. We'd just make it worse."
The Colonel smirked, clearly pleased with himself, "Wise choice, Waterbender. Maybe you're not as savage as you look."
Rivka ignored the jab, his focus on the villagers, "Look after each other," he said, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment, "This isn't the end of the story."
As the soldiers moved to bind his hands, Rivka caught Aang's gaze from across the barricade. The boy looked torn, his young face etched with worry. Rivka offered him a small, almost imperceptible nod.
There's a plan. Wait for the right moment.
The Colonel barked an order, and the platoon began to march away with Rivka in their midst. The villagers watched in stunned silence, their protector taken from them without a fight.
As they disappeared into the horizon, Aang turned to the others, determination shining in his eyes, "We're not letting him go. We'll follow them and figure out how to get him back."
Katara nodded fiercely, "We owe him that much."
Even Sokka, usually the cautious one, tightened his grip on his boomerang, "If they think they can just take him like that, they've got another thing coming."
From the front of the marching line, Rivka allowed himself a faint smile. He'd bought them time. Now, he just had to figure out what General Li wanted and how to turn it to his advantage.
Turns out, his advantage was shit. The royal war council called for his presence, alternatively known as his capture, because he was ruining too many minor political feats. He wasn't stupid enough to think that he'd get out of this one without being wanted for life and giving himself a tail of Fire Nation soldiers.
Rivka cursed for the nth time. He'd hoped that Aang and the kids might decide breaking him out of this big of a military operation wasn't worth it.
Rivka's journey was a slow, calculated ordeal, designed less for efficiency and more to break his spirit. Bound in chains dampened with residual heat, a clever, if unnecessary precaution against bending, he was marched like a trophy through Fire Nation-controlled territory towards their port base - away from his little boat of a home for a three-day journey.
The soldiers treated him with a mixture of fear and disdain. To them, he was a dangerous outlier: a Waterbender who had outwitted their ranks far too many times. Some kept their distance, their hands twitching near their weapons whenever he so much as shifted. Others took every opportunity to sneer or jab at him, throwing insults or vague threats.
"Doesn't look so tough now, does he?" one soldier said, grinning as Rivka was pushed forward.
Another spat on the ground near his feet, "Bet he cries for the ocean every night like the rest of his little tribe."
Rivka remained silent through it all, his icy gaze fixed ahead. He knew their taunts were bait, an attempt to provoke him into action so they'd have an excuse to strike. But he refused to give them the satisfaction.
The worst part of the journey was the nights. While the soldiers set up camp, laughing and sharing rations around their fires, Rivka was kept at a distance, isolated and under guard. They tethered him to the ground with heavy chains, positioned just far enough from the flames that the chill of the night crept into his bones. They thought it would weaken him.
They were wrong.
Each night, Rivka used solitude to centre himself. He meditated, drawing strength from the knowledge that water was everywhere - even here, in enemy territory. He felt it in the dew that settled on the grass, in the faint humidity of the air, in the blood that coursed through his captors' veins. He wouldn't act on it, not yet, but the knowledge sustained him.
The soldiers began to notice his resilience. Whispers spread through the ranks, uneasy murmurs about the calm defiance in his eyes.
"Doesn't he ever get tired?" one of the younger recruits asked nervously.
"Shut it," another snapped, "He's just trying to scare us. Don't let him get in your head."
The Colonel, however, was less easily shaken. He watched Rivka with a sharp, calculating gaze, trying to understand what made the man so unyielding.
By the time they reached the docks to board the ship to the Fire Nation, Rivka was an enigma to his captors. He had not once begged, not once faltered. If anything, he seemed more at ease than when they had first captured him.
As he was marched onto the ship, the Colonel couldn't resist one last taunt.
"Hope you've enjoyed the scenery, Waterbender. It's the last you'll see of it for a long time."
Rivka glanced over his shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "Funny. I was about to say the same to you."
The Colonel stiffened, but Rivka had already turned away, his chains clinking softly as he stepped onto the gangplank.
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado wavering. Rivka's calm was unnerving, and though none of them dared say it aloud, a seed of doubt had taken root.
What if the Waterbender wasn't as powerless as he seemed?
He'd spent the last two nights carefully, painfully bending ink into a message on parchment for Aang, Sokka and Katara. This was not to be for naught, but he would rather prefer they used or returned his possessions to the North when they got there. Bending ink into characters without being able to see them was a good challenge to keep his wits about him.
With that, Rivka boarded the Fire Navy vessel that was due to return to its homeland - the heart of the Fire Nation. His final surrender wasn't as grand as he'd envisioned but nor did he expect this magnitude of attention from anyone worth their pants in the Fire Military.
The ocean roared for a moment, and there was a distinct, sharp sound as something turned to ice. Rivka didn't move, continuing to walk as he had. No one went to investigate.
The kids got his poorly penned note stuck to a tree with a small shard of ice.
Notes:
Edited 15.03.25
Chapter Text
Rivka's calm demeanour aboard the navy ship was a source of growing tension among the crew. For the first few days, they tried to ignore him, treating him as just another prisoner. But as the days stretched on, his stoicism and quiet presence became impossible to dismiss.
The first whispers started among the lower-ranking soldiers tasked with guarding him.
"I swear, I saw him just sitting there, not moving, and the water in his cup started rippling," one guard said, his voice low.
"You're imagining things," another scoffed, but his tone was uncertain. "His limbs were chained. How could he have done that?"
But the doubt lingered, and soon, the stories spread.
By the end of the first week, the rumours had taken on a life of their own.
"They say he can summon water from the air itself," one soldier muttered as they cleaned the deck, "That's why the humidity's been so high lately. He's gathering it for something."
"Don't be stupid," another snapped, his eyes darting nervously toward the brig, "He's locked up. If he could do that, he would've escaped by now."
"Or maybe he's waiting," a third chimed in, "Biding his time until we're far from land. Think about it: if he floods the ship in the middle of the ocean, none of us will survive."
The idea sent a ripple of fear through the crew, and even the higher-ranking officers began to pay closer attention to Rivka.
The General overseeing the voyage dismissed the rumours as foolish superstition. But even he found himself unnerved by Rivka's silence. No matter how harsh the conditions, the man didn't complain, didn't lash out, and didn't even flinch. He simply sat there, observing everything with an unsettling calm.
The turning point came on the eighth day. A storm rolled in, tossing the ship violently on the waves. The crew scrambled to secure the rigging and keep the ship afloat, but Rivka remained unbothered in his cell.
When the storm finally passed, the crew returned to find him sitting cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed as if in meditation. His hair was still damp from the water that had seeped into the brig, but he looked as composed as ever, even with his chains curled around his limbs.
That was when the whispers turned darker.
"He caused the storm," one sailor said, his voice trembling, "Did you see how calm he was? Like he knew it wouldn't hurt him."
"Nonsense," an officer barked. But even he avoided meeting Rivka's eyes as he passed the cell.
By the time the ship neared Fire Nation shores, Rivka had become a figure of myth among the crew. Some claimed he was a spirit in human form, sent by the Moon and Ocean spirits to punish the Fire Nation. Others whispered that he was a cursed warrior, destined to bring misfortune to any who crossed him.
Rivka, for his part, did nothing to dispel the rumours. He remained calm, occasionally offering a faint smile or a cryptic remark that only fueled the crew's unease.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a young sailor mustered the courage to approach him.
"Is it true?" the sailor asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper, "That you can control the ocean?"
Rivka looked up, his icy blue eyes meeting the sailors. For a moment, he said nothing, letting the silence stretch. Then, he leaned forward slightly, the chains on his wrists clinking softly.
"Control?" he said, his voice low and even, "No. But the ocean and I... we understand each other."
The sailor paled and backed away, the weight of Rivka's words sinking in. From that night on, even the bravest among the crew gave him a wide berth.
By the time the ship docked at the Fire Nation harbour, the soldiers were more than ready to be rid of him. But even as they marched him off the ship, chains rattling, the rumours lingered in their minds, a gnawing fear that perhaps they had underestimated the Waterbender from the North.
For Rivka's part, he didn't immediately dislike Fire Nation soil as much as he would have thought. The humidity was more tropical by nature, and the patriotism was palatable; the banners of red and gold flames, the uniforms, everything was red, black and gold, his new normal, he supposed. The transfer to the holding cells in the mainland prison was smooth, if nothing else; no one bar for those in the military saw Rivka, and he certainly wasn't going to go make a spectacle of himself here.
The conditions of his cell were upgraded. He was at least allowed to be bathed by some poor guard from all the gross musk of a two-week voyage below deck. He was sorely missing the ability to Waterbend, although the chains only really hindered movement, not his actual capacity for bending. He thought it best to play his cards close to his chest and slowly try to peel cultural questions from the guards.
"Is the climate always this hot?"
"What are your names?"
"What's the food you have hidden in your pockets?"
He decided he quite enjoyed fire flakes when one lady kindly - upon the threat of snitching - shared the treat with him.
The cells were a conductive metal, always warm in the daytime and chilled at night. He was given water and food at the barest of intervals. They didn't like Waterbenders. They weren't equipped to completely remove water from keeping him alive. The downside was his peak fitness was starting to falter, not that years of active fighting and training would vanish just because he could only run through about six katas with all limbs chained in some way. He wasn't as nearly as well fed as he could have been and was almost always a tad parched as he grew used to the humidity.
As the days passed in the Fire Nation prison, Rivka's sharp mind stayed active despite his physical limitations. He learned to observe patterns: the guards' rotations, the hierarchy among the soldiers, and even which meals were brought by which staff. The oppressive warmth of the climate didn't bother him as much as the lack of meaningful conversation or water.
An unexpected visitor arrived during one of the slow afternoons when the sun's rays cast long shadows through the cell's barred windows.
The man was tall and imposing, wearing the elaborate armour of a high-ranking officer. His black hair was tied back neatly, and a dark red cloak hung from his shoulders. Behind him stood a younger soldier, nervous and tightly clutching the hilt of his sword. The officer's sharp eyes scanned Rivka as he approached the cell.
"Rivka of the North," the officer began, his voice smooth but authoritative, "You've caused quite a stir, you know."
Rivka looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the floor.
"I tend to have that effect," he replied, his voice calm, "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
"I am General Kaizhu," the man said, his tone measured, "And this," he gestured to the soldier behind him, "is my aide, Lieutenant Ren. We've been tasked with assessing just how much of a threat you pose to the Fire Nation."
Rivka tilted his head, his faint smile betraying no fear, "Threat? I'm flattered. But as you can see, General, I'm quite contained. It's hardly a danger to anyone."
Kaizhu's lips twitched, a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Don't play coy. We've seen the reports. A single Waterbender holding off entire platoons, disrupting supply lines and evading capture for years. Tell me, Rivka, what was your strategy? How did you manage it?"
Rivka leaned back slightly, resting his wrists on his knees as his chains clinked softly, "You think I'll just share that with you? What kind of tactician would I be if I gave away my secrets?"
Kaizhu chuckled darkly, "You're confident. I'll give you that. But I'm not here for idle chatter. I want to know how one man could outmaneuver trained Fire Nation forces."
"Perhaps," Rivka said, his tone light, "It's less about what I did and more about what your forces didn't do."
Kaizhu narrowed his eyes, "Elaborate."
Rivka straightened, his gaze sharpening. "Your troops rely too much on overwhelming force. Fire is powerful, yes, but it's predictable. You strike hard and fast, but you rarely think about what comes after. I used your arrogance against you - ambushes, misdirection, and turning your strengths into weaknesses. The Fire Nation fights like an unyielding flame, but water... water adapts."
Kaizhu's expression darkened, though it was unclear whether this was due to Rivka's words or the truth they held. Lieutenant Ren shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his superior.
"Interesting," Kaizhu said after a long pause, "And yet, here you are. Captured. Perhaps water isn't as adaptable as you think."
Rivka chuckled softly, "Or perhaps I let myself be caught."
That gave the General pause. Ren's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Kaizhu raised a hand to silence him.
"You expect me to believe that?" Kaizhu asked, his voice low.
Rivka shrugged, the chains rattling faintly, "Believe what you want. But if I had wanted to escape, I wouldn't be here now."
Kaizhu studied him for a moment longer before turning on his heel, "We'll see, Rivka. For now, enjoy your accommodations. They won't be improving any time soon."
As the two men left, Rivka allowed himself a small smile. He knew he'd given them enough to be intrigued, perhaps even wary, without revealing too much. Let them wonder, he thought. The more they questioned his motives, the less they'd see his next move coming.
For the next few days, there was little progress. Rivka trained himself where he could and swore that the passive stress was greying him further. His soul mark had flared a bit the day General Kaizhu visited, but otherwise, he remained silent. The guards were slowly becoming more talkative around him. He learnt a bit more about the military's structure if nothing else.
General Kaizhu and Lieutenant Ren were part of the war council's main lineup. Ren was the eldest son of another council member, and there were six to ten Generals in total, excluding likely advisers and the Fire Lord himself. This fact gave Rivka pause as he acknowledged just how close he was to some of the most prominent figures in this war.
He got one hell of a lot closer.
The day began like any other, with the usual clinking of chains and the metallic warmth of his cell. He had been meditating, focusing on keeping his body and mind sharp despite the monotony when the sound of multiple boots echoed down the hallway. This wasn't the usual shift change; there were too many, and their steps were too deliberate.
Rivka opened his eyes, his icy gaze meeting the nervous glances of two guards who entered his cell. Behind them stood Lieutenant Ren, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression carefully neutral.
"You're being moved," Ren said curtly, though there was an edge of hesitation in his tone.
"Am I now?" Rivka mused, slowly standing. His chains jingled as he stretched, "And to where, pray tell?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Ren replied.
The guards bound Rivka's hands and ankles tighter than before, ensuring he was thoroughly restrained. As they escorted him through the prison corridors, Rivka noted the heightened security. Every hallway was lined with guards, and the air buzzed with tension. Wherever he was being taken, it wasn't just another cell.
When they finally emerged into the open air, Rivka squinted against the bright sunlight. He was led to a large, heavily armoured carriage waiting at the prison gates. Ren climbed in first, motioning for Rivka to follow.
The journey was silent but tense. Rivka leaned back against the carriage wall, his sharp eyes studying Ren, who seemed more on edge than usual. The young officer avoided Rivka's gaze, focusing instead on the window beside him.
"You're nervous," Rivka said, breaking the silence.
Ren stiffened but didn't respond.
"Let me guess," Rivka continued, his tone light, "You're worried about what others will think of you bringing me in. Or maybe you're afraid I'll say something that will make your life harder."
Ren's jaw tightened, "You talk too much for a prisoner."
"I've been told," Rivka said with a faint smile, "But don't worry, Lieutenant. I'll behave - for now."
The carriage eventually stopped, and Rivka was led out into what he quickly realized was a military compound. The towering gates, meticulously arranged banners, and bustling activity all pointed to a significant location.
The guards flanking him led Rivka into a grand building, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of flames and dragons. He was marched through a series of corridors before finally arriving at a large chamber. The air was heavy with authority, and the room was filled with a group of figures dressed in the finest Fire Nation military regalia.
The war council.
At the head of the table sat General Kaizhu, his sharp gaze fixed on Rivka as he was escorted in. Beside him were other generals and advisors, each radiating an aura of power and control. Lieutenant Ren took his place near the back, his posture stiff.
"Rivka of the Northern Water Tribe," Kaizhu announced, his voice echoing through the chamber, "Welcome to the Fire Nation war council."
"Quite the honour," Rivka replied, his tone laced with sarcasm.
He stood tall despite the chains, his eyes meeting Kaizhu's without fear.
"You've been brought here for one reason," Kaizhu continued, "Your actions have disrupted our operations more than any single combatant should be capable of. We want to know how you did it and what it will take to ensure you don't do it again."
Rivka raised an eyebrow, "And here I thought you wanted me here to exchange pleasantries."
The room bristled with tension at his audacity, but Kaizhu remained composed, "You're walking a thin line, Waterbender. I suggest you choose your words carefully."
Rivka smiled faintly, "Fine. You want to know how I outmaneuvered your forces? Simple. I adapted, observed, and exploited your weaknesses. Your military relies too much on brute force and intimidation. It leaves you blind to subtlety."
The room erupted into murmurs as the generals exchanged uneasy glances. Kaizhu held up a hand to silence them.
"And you believe your methods could work against the full might of the Fire Nation?" Kaizhu asked, his voice sharp.
"I don't believe it," Rivka said, his calm demeanour unshaken, "I know. Imagine what a unified resistance could do if one man could disrupt your plans this much."
Kaizhu's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the room was silent. Then, one of the older generals leaned forward, his expression thoughtful.
"Perhaps," the man said slowly, "We've underestimated this Waterbender's value."
Rivka's gaze flicked to the general, sensing a shift in the room's energy. Whatever they were planning, he had a feeling it was about to test him in ways he hadn't anticipated.
"Perhaps a test of his physical skills? Clearly, his wit won't crack if it hasn't yet," another General spoke.
"What do you propose? An Angi Kai?" Another mocked; Rivka swore to remember the arrogance in his beady eyes.
"What are the rules?" Rivka asked, his voice level and eyes locked on.
"W-what?" The beady-eyed General blanched.
"What is the practice of an Agni Kai? Would there be any benefit to me participating?"
The room fell silent.
"You're a Waterbender," one spoke.
"Congratulations, you can see. What are the rules?"
"Why would we let a prisoner participate?" Another older General huffed.
"Two participants face off in a Firebending match; the first to burn the other wins. It is a matter of honour and high regard," General Kaizhu, of all people, clearly spoke.
"What would happen if I won?" Rivka asked before interrupting the protests starting up, "I can respect formality. I'll even promise to only use Firebending stances, and I can absolutely burn a Firebender."
The war council exchanged uneasy glances, their murmurs sharp but low, laden with curiosity and doubt. Rivka stood motionless, his calm expression betraying none of the tension in the room.
Finally, General Kaizhu said, in a measured yet sceptical tone, "You are a Waterbender, not a Firebender. An Agni Kai is not a game. How do you propose to defeat a Firebender in their discipline?"
"Form and intent transcend element," Rivka replied smoothly, "The movements of Firebending are not so foreign to me. And Waterbenders... we know how to adapt. Besides, isn't this a rare opportunity? A prisoner, a Waterbender, claiming victory in your sacred duel - it could never happen, could it?"
Kaizhu's eyes narrowed as murmurs rippled through the council. Rivka had planted a seed of doubt. The generals were weighing the potential risks, but more than one seemed intrigued by the prospect.
"You think highly of yourself," one of the older generals huffed, leaning forward in his seat, "But an Agni Kai is about honour. You wouldn't even last long enough to learn that."
Rivka inclined his head, "Then allow me to prove otherwise. Let me duel your champion with the tools of my craft. I won't even bend at first - I'll rely on Firebending stances alone. But if I am pushed, I will remind you that water burns just as fiercely as fire."
The room went silent. Kaizhu leaned back, his calculating gaze fixed on Rivka, "This isn't a spectacle for your amusement, prisoner. If we allow this, it will be to measure the extent of your skill and resourcefulness. But know this: failure will come at a cost."
"I expect no less," Rivka said evenly, meeting the general's gaze.
Kaizhu turned to Lieutenant Ren, "Fetch Captain Shen. He will represent us in this challenge."
Ren hesitated, his brow furrowing, "General Kaizhu, Shen is-"
"Shen is one of our best, and he will handle this without hesitation," Kaizhu interrupted firmly, "Go."
Ren bowed stiffly and left the chamber. The council exchanged glances, some wary, others were intrigued.
Rivka broke the silence, "I appreciate the opportunity, General. It will be... illuminating."
"Do not mistake this for leniency," Kaizhu snapped, "If you survive, it will be because we allow you to. Remember that."
Rivka simply smiled, "Perhaps. But if I succeed, it will be because you underestimated me."
Notes:
Edited 15.03.25
Chapter Text
Rivka was escorted back to his cell, but the air around the prison had changed. Guards whispered as he passed, their eyes darting between him and their comrades. A Waterbender in an Agni Kai? It was unthinkable. Rumours began spreading like wildfire.
In the hours before the duel, Rivka meditated, focusing on the stillness within himself. He knew the risk he was taking. Firebenders respected raw power, and winning might only paint a larger target on his back. Still, the thought of showing them the versatility of his bending brought a quiet satisfaction.
When the time came, he was led to the duelling arena, a grand scuffle to get him unnoticed into a much higher class of area. He had his robes fixed, left in his well-worn pants and little more until they noticed his soul mark. For some reason, they were kind enough to leave him his underclothes to hide such an obvious mark. He looked like he was representing the Water Tribe with this, and the political ramifications just hit him as they arrived.
The Agni Kai chamber within the royal palace was nothing short of awe-inspiring and oppressive. The vast, rectangular arena was bordered by black volcanic stone polished to a mirror sheen, its centre a pit of scorched stone, just visibly marked by countless duels. Flames danced from braziers lining the walls, casting flickering shadows onto the towering golden throne that dominated the chamber's far end. There, seated in silent judgment, was Fire Lord Ozai himself, a regal and imposing figure whose presence commanded absolute attention, nothing more than a silhouette. Rivka felt his heart in his throat, and his chest tightened upon looking up at him.
Rivka stepped into the chamber, his bare feet brushing the cool floor as he took in the scene. Soldiers and nobles lined the perimeter, their whispers subdued by the gravity of the setting. At the far end of the arena, his opponent waited - Captain Shen, a seasoned Firebender whose eager eyes gleamed in the firelight. Shen stood tall; confidence etched into his smirk as he flexed his fingers, flames sparking at his knuckles. He was shirtless, in some form of traditional pants with bands decorating him. The room fell silent as General Kaizhu stepped forward to address the chamber.
"This Agni Kai is unconventional, to say the least."
He began, his voice echoing in the cavernous space, "Rivka of the Northern Water Tribe, a prisoner, has challenged Captain Shen, one of the Fire Nation's finest. The terms are clear: combatants will fight until one is burned. Interference from either side will not be tolerated."
Kaizhu's gaze swept over Rivka, "You may use your bending, but remember - this is a test of your worth and resolve. Prove yourself, or face the consequences of failure."
Rivka inclined his head, his expression calm. He shifted into a sparing stance, his movements deliberate and measured. Across the arena, Shen raised his hands, flames igniting in his palms.
The gong sounded.
Shen struck first, hurling a spinning arc of fire. Rivka sidestepped with ease, his body flowing like water as the flames crashed harmlessly against the stone behind him. The crowd murmured, watching as Rivka evaded strike after strike, his movements impossibly smooth, almost lazy, before they slowly noticed the implementation of Firebending forms.
"You think you can win by running?" Shen taunted, sending a torrent of fire spiralling toward him.
Rivka didn't reply. Instead, he pivoted, his feet tracing a half-circle as he redirected the heat with an elegant flourish. Still, he refrained from bending, relying only on footwork and timing to avoid Shen's relentless assault.
The chamber grew restless as the minutes passed. Shen's strikes became more aggressive, expressing his frustration through their wildness. Rivka, by contrast, remained unshaken, his poise unbroken.
Finally, Shen roared in anger, unleashing a massive wave of fire that surged across the arena. It was a reckless move, born of desperation. Rivka responded in kind.
With a single fluid motion, he raised his arms, summoning water from different parts of the room—his sweat, the sweat of the front row, the sweat of the one man who had a cup of tea in the back, or even the humidity itself.
The liquid swirled around him in a small, shimmering vortex, meeting Shen's fire in a sizzling clash of elements. Steam filled the chamber, temporarily obscuring the combatants.
When the mist cleared, Rivka stood tall, his water forming a single thin tendril around him. Shen staggered backward, sweat pouring down his face as he tried to regain his footing.
"You seem tired," Rivka said calmly, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd, "Shall I finish this?"
Without waiting for a response, he moved. His water lashed out, precise and unrelenting, extinguishing Shen's flames before they could form. As Shen raised his hands for one final attack, Rivka struck.
The water arced through the air, crashing down onto Shen's arm. The scalding steam poured off the boiling lash, drawing a pained cry as he fell to his knees. The crowd gasped, their murmurs rising in volume.
Rivka stepped back, lowering his arms, "I believe that qualifies as a burn," he said, his tone even.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, from the royal seating area, Fire Lord Ozai rose. His movements were deliberate, his expression unreadable as his golden gaze swept over the arena.
"Interesting," he said, his voice a deep rumble that silenced the chamber.
Rivka simply resigned himself to a bow, risking not looking at who might be his biggest enemy. The Fire Lord stayed a few seconds, observing, before leaving. It took less than a minute for Rivka to be placed back on the transport and urged back towards his familiar cell.
He'd gone and put his foot right in it now. Whatever came next was going to be interesting, for the fact alone, he may as well have been the first Waterbender to participate in an Agni Kai, much less win one.
It was only when he'd had a moment to himself that he noticed his chest felt weird. Hesitantly, Rivka pulled his collar open and cursed into the evening light. His soul mark had changed. He'd met his fucking soul mate in the Fire Nation, risking his life on a silly stunt.
He wanted to retire, perhaps run away to a nice beach, never to be seen again. His mark twinged in a subtle feeling, sharing the sentiment, perhaps? He couldn't tell.
It wasn't until after the sun had set that Rivka started to debate, complaining about not getting any dinner or anything to drink after his win. Surely, they weren't planning on starving him out after his big break.
The pattern changed again. Two softer sets of footsteps suddenly echoed on the floor he was on. His guards, who were doing their job after realising he could defeat them, rose to the commotion before snapping to attention. Who had arrived?
Two spectacularly different uniformed soldiers greeted him with silence.
"With us," one ordered. The guards gave them the keys and bolted off to the side.
"Can I ask questions?" Rivka asked as they got him into the hall.
"You will lose the privilege of speech if you so much as whisper until spoken to," the other guard threatened.
Noted, Rivka thought. Withholding a comment, a blindfold was placed over his head. He was spirited away through complicated halls he lost track of, clearly out in the open at least once before heading back into a maze of walls.
The blindfold was removed abruptly, and Rivka blinked against the sudden light. He found himself in a small, starkly decorated room with smooth red walls and a single brazier casting flickering shadows. Two attendants, both dressed in Fire Nation livery, stood waiting. Between them was a basin of steaming water, fine brushes, and an assortment of clothing laid out on a low bench.
One of the guards gestured to Rivka's worn clothing, "Strip."
Rivka raised an eyebrow but complied, peeling off his faded Water Tribe garb. He was left standing in his undershorts, the faint chill of the room a sharp contrast to the steaming water in the basin. The attendants stepped forward, neither speaking as they dipped brushes into the basin and began scrubbing at the soot and grime that clung to his skin. Rivka endured the brisk treatment in silence, noting the ritualistic precision with which they worked.
Once they were satisfied, they stepped back and handed him a folded cloth, "Put this on."
Rivka unfolded the garment. It was a simple robe, dark red with black trim, cinched at the waist with a gold sash. The fabric was fine but unadorned, formal yet neutral—perhaps a statement that he was not here as an honoured guest but as someone who demanded careful observation. He slipped it on, adjusting the sash as the attendants stepped forward again, their hands darting over him to straighten the fabric.
"Hold still," one said curtly.
They tied his hair, including his braid, back in a tight poney that kept its usual sidebangs well away from his face; he was sure his features would be more strikingly "Water Tribe" this way but continued to withhold his complaints. It was simple but unmistakably Fire Nation in design - a mark of respect, perhaps, or a way to ensure he looked presentable enough for whatever was to come.
When they finished, the guards stepped forward again, fitting his wrists into ornate manacles linked by a short chain. Rivka flexed his fingers, testing the restraint, but said nothing.
One guard tilted his head toward the door, "Walk."
They escorted him through another series of corridors, this time without a blindfold. Rivka noted the palace's opulence—the smooth marble floors, gilded accents, and ever-present banners of red and gold. The air grew warmer as they walked, the heat pressing against his skin like a warning.
Finally, they arrived at a set of massive double doors intricately carved with flames that seemed to dance in the torchlight. One of the guards stepped forward and rapped sharply on the door.
There was a pause, then a low voice from within, "Enter."
The doors swung open with a deep groan, revealing a grand chamber dominated by a raised dais. At its centre sat Fire Lord Ozai, his imposing figure framed by the massive, carved flame backdrop that loomed behind the throne. He wore his royal hairpiece and armour, his gaze sharp and inscrutable as it landed on Rivka.
The guards pushed Rivka forward, their hands firm on his shoulders. He moved without resistance, his steps steady despite the weight of the moment. They stopped just short of the dais and forced him to his knees.
"You may leave us," Ozai said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
The guards hesitated, but one sharp look from the Fire Lord sent them retreating from the room. The doors shut behind them with a finality that echoed in the vast space. Rivka remained kneeling, his head bowed, though his mind raced. The silence stretched, heavy and charged, until Ozai finally spoke.
"You've made quite an impression," the Fire Lord said, his tone measured but with an edge that hinted at both curiosity and danger.
Rivka exhaled slowly, lifting his head just enough to meet the Fire Lord's gaze, "That tends to happen when you're not dead yet."
Ozai's eyes flickered with a flicker of amusement, perhaps, before his expression hardened once more. "Let us see if you can survive what comes next."
The atmosphere in the chamber was suffocating, the oppressive heat pressing down on Rivka as he knelt before Fire Lord Ozai. The Fire Lord's golden gaze bore into him like molten iron, unyielding and merciless. Rivka held himself steady though his heart hammered against his ribs. He had faced death before, but this was something else entirely. This was a force of nature wearing a man's skin, a predator deciding whether its prey was worth devouring or keeping alive for a later game.
Ozai's voice broke the silence, deep and slow, like the rumble of a distant volcano, "Do you know why you're here, Waterbender?"
Rivka kept his voice level, but his words were sharp, "I imagine it has something to do with my impromptu victory."
Ozai's face flickered with a flicker of danger, and his lips curled into a faint, humourless smirk.
"Victory? You speak of it so casually, as though you accomplished something ordinary. What you did was far from that. You didn't just win. You exposed weakness—my army's weakness, my people's weakness."
He rose from his throne in a smooth motion, his robes trailing like living flames behind him. Each step forward sent a fresh wave of heat rippling through the air.
"And yet," he continued, his tone dropping to a low growl, "You did so with calculated precision. Not recklessness. Not desperation. You fought with purpose. Intent. A Waterbender is playing at being one of us. How... curious."
Rivka resisted the urge to shift under the scrutiny, his voice carefully neutral, "If that's what you believe, then why keep me alive? Surely, it's not just to indulge your curiosity."
Ozai halted a few paces from Rivka, the heat radiating from him, searing against Rivka's skin.
"Alive?" He tilted his head, his expression sharp and predatory, "You presume too much, Waterbender. Your life hangs by a thread, and that thread is fraying with every breath you take."
Rivka swallowed hard but refused to look away, "Then why haven't you cut it already?"
Ozai's smirk widened, but there was no humour in it, only malice. He leaned down, his face close enough for Rivka to feel the heat of his breath.
"Because there is something about you I can not ignore. Something... unnatural," His eyes burned with a feral intensity, "Your presence is a blight on my senses, a spark that refuses to be extinguished and yet, it draws me. As if the spirits themselves mock me with their games."
Rivka's chest tightened, the weight of Ozai's words settling over him like a shroud. He knew what the Fire Lord was implying, but he wasn't about to confirm it. Not yet.
"You're imagining things," Rivka said evenly, though his voice carried a slight edge.
Ozai chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Rivka's spine despite the heat.
"Am I? Tell me, Waterbender, does your mark burn? Does it sear your skin with every beat of your heart?" He straightened his gaze, narrowing, "I know mine does. The spirits have tied us together, haven't they?"
Rivka stiffened, his calm exterior cracking for the briefest of moments. Ozai saw it - of course he did, and his smirk turned razor-sharp.
"You disgust me," Ozai said, his voice cold and venomous.
"A Waterbender, marked as mine. Do you know what that means for me? For my legacy? It is a stain I can not erase, a weakness the world would exploit if they knew," He stepped back, his expression unreadable now, his tone softening into something far more dangerous, "And yet... you are an asset I can not afford to waste."
Rivka's eyes narrowed, "An asset?"
Ozai gestured dismissively as if Rivka's question was beneath him.
"Your mind, your skills, your ability to think beyond the narrow confines of your pitiful tribe... You could be of use to me. To my Nation. The bond itself ensures your loyalty, whether you like it or not."
"And if I refuse?" Rivka asked, his voice steady despite the rising tension.
Ozai's expression darkened, his molten gaze burning with lethal intent, "Then I will kill you, Rivka of the North. I will end this blight myself and make sure the spirits regret their audacity. Do not think I will hesitate."
The room fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of Ozai's threat hanging heavy in the air. Rivka met the Fire Lord's gaze, his mind racing. The bond tugged at him like a current, undeniable and relentless. He could feel it, the faint hum in his chest, a connection he neither wanted nor could sever.
After what felt like an eternity, Rivka inclined his head slightly, "You leave me little choice, Fire Lord."
Ozai's triumphant and cruel smirk returned.
"Wise," he said, his voice a low rumble. He turned away, ascending back to his throne.
"Take him back to his cell," he ordered the guards outside the door, "Ensure he is fed and rested. I have plans for him."
As Rivka was led away, he couldn't help but glance back. Ozai's gaze followed him, sharp and calculating, like a hunter watching its prey. Rivka's chest ached where his soulmark lay, the bond a constant reminder of the dangerous game he was now a part of.
Notes:
Edited 15.03.25
Chapter Text
Prison wasn't fun, but Rivka was very close to making a point about how boring his days were. The sudden increase in quality and variety of food didn't mean a lot to him as he sat in Fire Nation garb and continued to try and train his body where he could.
The guards were now nearly terrified of him, having found out that it was the Royal Procession who had collected him and had him look pretty. The Waterbender didn't quite think that reds matched his eyes as well as they could have, but he was allowed his tribal braid, and that was what currently mattered to him.
A point of discussion between the guards was that his soul mark had notably changed. He couldn't hide it, as a Waterbender he wasn't even allowed to bathe himself. They were awed over the colour change, instead of its navy blue hue it now sat a deep sunset orange on his chest. The crescent moon was still there, albeit with lesser opacity than usual. He didn't know what to think, but the fact that Fire Lord Ozai was possibly going about his days sporting navy blue under his robes somewhat amused him.
Another fact about the mark was that it was incessant, humming and buzzing away, a feedback of emotions that was challenging to interpret. He didn't know how to make sense of a sharp twist of flame or the tug on his chi that made him calm down. Rivka could only hope Oazi had no idea yet, either.
Four full days later, the Royal Procession showed up again. Past sunset, when shadows danced along the cell walls. Rivka was surprised to see it was only one guard this time; clearly, his complacency was seen in a positive light. He was kindly blindfolded again and taken, assumingly, along the same path. The same attendants greeted his sight when the blindfold was removed, and they worked just as diligently at tidying his appearance.
This time, however, he was left in a looser robe of red that looked almost akin to bedware. This was enough to raise Rivka's passive suspicions about what was happening, but the fact that he was brought to a different room this time perplexed him. The room looked expensive and well-furnished, which faintly amused Rivka until the guard broke position to level him with a glare.
"This will be your temporary quarters under the orders of Fire Lord Ozai. You will not leave this room without express permission, and you shall remain in your shackles until further notice," he informed.
Rivka raised an eyebrow, shifting his wrists slightly to make the shackles clink against each other.
"Quite the generous offer," he murmured, his tone sardonic but his gaze sharp.
He studied the guard for a reaction but got nothing beyond the usual military rigidity. The guard stepped back toward the door, standing at attention as though daring Rivka to test his boundaries.
"Dinner will be brought to you shortly," the guard continued curtly, "Do not attempt to interact with anyone other than your attendants or the Fire Lord himself. Anything less than compliance will be seen as insubordination."
"Understood," Rivka replied, though his tone suggested he was cataloguing every word as ammunition.
When the door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place, Rivka took a moment to survey the room properly. It was lavish, too lavish for a prisoner, even one of his supposed importance. The red-and-gold colour scheme was nauseatingly omnipresent, the bed far too grand, and the furnishings screamed excess. This wasn't a prison; it was a gilded cage.
His soul mark throbbed faintly as though responding to his unease. That buzzing connection to Ozai was maddening, a constant, low-level awareness of a presence far more dangerous than any iron bars or shackles. Rivka clenched his fists, feeling the rough metal bite into his wrists.
He paced the room, inspecting every corner and crevice. No windows, just intricate Fire Nation tapestries on the walls. The bed was softer than he'd anticipated, almost insultingly comfortable. The vanity mirror reflected his haggard appearance, his sunken cheeks and the faint dark circles under his eyes. His tribal braid was intact, but the Fire Nation robe clashed so violently with his identity that he almost wanted to laugh.
Dinner arrived promptly, delivered by an attendant who wouldn't meet his eyes. The tray was filled with dishes far too decadent for a man in chains. Rivka stared at the food, then at the attendant.
"Tell me, am I to be fed to the wolves later? Or is this the appetizer for something worse?" The attendant visibly flinched but said nothing, retreating as quickly as they came.
"Charming," Rivka muttered, sitting down to eat.
The food was surprisingly good: an array of spiced meats, roasted vegetables, and rice, all perfectly cooked. He ate slowly, chewing over more than just his meal. Why would Ozai bring him here, to this room of all places? Was it a test? A trap? Or some twisted form of control, reminding Rivka of how utterly powerless he was?
As the hours dragged on, Rivka found himself wrestling with the soulmark's persistent hum. His attempts to meditate were fruitless, the strange connection pulling at his concentration. A flicker of frustration flared within him, not his own, but a foreign echo through the bond. He stiffened, realizing that Ozai, wherever he was, must have felt the same.
"Great," Rivka muttered, rubbing his temples, "We're both angry. That's helpful."
When he did get a visitor, somewhat deeper into the night while he was stewing over the new turn of events, he wasn't surprised to see Fire Lord Ozai himself in the doorway. Ozai's entrance into the room was as deliberate as his every action: slow, measured, and laced with authority. The door shut behind him with a soft click, though the sound might as well have been thunder for the weight it carried. Rivka straightened instinctively, his wariness sharpening like a blade.
The Fire Lord stood in silence for a moment, his golden eyes assessing Rivka with unnerving precision. Rivka felt dissected, laid bare before a predator who already knew exactly where his prey's weaknesses lay.
"You seem at ease for a man in chains," Ozai finally said, his voice low but cutting.
Rivka shrugged, the clink of his shackles breaking the tension only slightly, "If I can't leave, I may as well be comfortable."
Ozai's gaze flickered to the chains around Rivka's wrists, and for a fleeting moment, Rivka thought he saw something resembling amusement, cold and fleeting, like the sun's reflection on ice.
"You adapt well," Ozai said, stepping closer, "A trait I can respect, though it will not spare you if you overstep."
Rivka tilted his head, feigning nonchalance, "Respect from the Fire Lord? I'll add that to the list of unexpected developments this week."
Ozai ignored the quip and slowly circled Rivka. The weight of his presence was suffocating, and his steps were precise and deliberate, like those of a tiger pacing around its prey.
"You should understand something, Waterbender," he said, his tone as measured as his movements, "Your survival thus far is not a matter of chance or mercy. It is a matter of purpose."
Rivka didn't flinch but kept his tone even, "Purpose you haven't exactly explained."
"You will know when the time is right," Ozai replied, stopping just in front of him.
His towering figure cast a shadow over Rivka, the golden light of the chamber's lanterns catching on the sharp edges of his armour, "But I will tell you this: your presence in my court is no longer a secret."
Rivka raised an eyebrow, his stomach twisting at the implications, "Meaning what, exactly?"
Ozai's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, "Meaning that the Fire Nation will soon know of your... significance."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Rivka's mind raced, but he kept his expression calm. He couldn't afford to show his hand, not yet.
"I didn't realise prisoners were so important to your people."
"You are no mere prisoner," Ozai said, his voice lowering but losing none of its sharpness, "You are my equal in a way few will ever understand."
Rivka's breath caught, though he quickly masked his reaction. The soulmark's faint hum in his chest felt louder now, almost mocking.
"And what does that mean for me?" Rivka asked carefully.
"It means you will be afforded certain privileges," Ozai replied, stepping back slightly, "Privileges that come with responsibilities. You will learn to serve this nation, not as a prisoner, but as a partner in its ascension."
The word "partner" struck Rivka like a blow. He fought to keep his composure though his mind reeled. Partner. Ascension. He didn't like the direction this was heading, not one bit.
"And if I don't agree to this... partnership?" he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.
Ozai's gaze darkened, his expression hardening, "Then you will find that even soulmates are not immune to my wrath, but I believe you are intelligent enough not to squander the opportunity before you."
Rivka swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind racing to decipher the Fire Lord's true intentions. The shift in dynamic was unnerving; no longer a simple prisoner but something far more dangerous.
"Tell me, Rivka," Ozai said, his voice softening slightly, though the danger in it remained, "Do you feel the bond as I do?"
Rivka hesitated, carefully choosing his words, "I feel something, but I don't know what it means."
Ozai's eyes narrowed slightly as if weighing the truth of Rivka's words.
"In time, you will understand," he said, his tone final, "For now, you will remain here until I summon you again. Prepare yourself. The Fire Nation expects strength, and I will accept nothing less."
Without another word, Ozai turned and left, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.
Rivka sank onto the edge of the bed, the chains around his wrists suddenly feeling much heavier. The Fire Lord's words echoed in his mind, and the mark on his chest seemed to burn faintly in response.
Partner. Soulmate. Strength.
Rivka had no illusions about Ozai's intentions. He was a pawn in a game far larger than himself, a game that could decide the fate of nations. Yet, a part of him couldn't ignore the pull of the bond, the strange hum that tied him to a man who could very well be his undoing.
"I really should have stayed on my ship," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.
But there was no turning back now. It seemed he might have to try to have another conversation, perhaps explain what it was like to be on the other side of this war, and demand that some things make sense before he even uttered an agreement.
Rivka quietly spent his night in a light doze, trying to understand the feedback from his soul mark. He was a bit embarrassed to say that Ozai himself might have spent some time reacting to the sensations he was paying attention to, something that made him feel weird but had his heart in a vice.
Come a slow morning, after breakfast that was a bit heavier than anticipated, Rivka was informed he was to be summoned at midday to formally meet Fire Lord Ozai and his daughter Princess Azula.
He was shitting himself a bit.
Rivka sat quietly, his hands folded neatly in his lap despite the uncomfortable weight of the shackles. When the guards came to escort him, he forced himself into a calm he didn't entirely feel. The hallways of the Fire Nation palace were overwhelming in their grandeur, golden flames carved into the walls, rich tapestries in crimson and black, and an air of rigid authority that seemed to sink into every stone.
When the towering double doors to the audience chamber opened, Rivka stepped inside. This room was no less opulent, dominated by the throne upon which Fire Lord Ozai sat. Beside him stood Princess Azula, a picture of composed elegance with sharp eyes that betrayed her calculating nature.
As Rivka approached, the courtier announced him with practised precision, "Rivka of the Northern Water Tribe, as summoned by Fire Lord Ozai and Princess Azula."
Rivka noticed the formality, but he focused on staying composed. He bowed deeply, the chains around his wrists clinking as he said, "Fire Lord, Princess."
Ozai regarded him with a gaze that was intense but not as hostile as Rivka had expected. If anything, there was a flicker of something almost... considerate. It was unnerving in its own way.
"You've adjusted to your new surroundings, I trust," Ozai said, his voice even though still carrying an edge of authority.
"As well as anyone in my position could, Fire Lord," Rivka replied cautiously.
"Good."
Ozai's gaze didn't waver, but there was no malice in it, "You are here because I believe you can be more than just a pawn of resistance. You have shown skill and wit—qualities that can be better used than petty defiance."
Rivka raised an eyebrow, though he kept his expression neutral, "And what use would you have of me?"
Ozai leaned forward slightly, his tone softening, though it still held weight.
"To see. To understand. You've fought against the Fire Nation, but you've never seen what it truly is, what it means to rule, to bring order to a fractured world. I believe you will come to understand our vision, given time."
Before Rivka could respond, Ozai glanced at Azula and said, "My daughter will guide you through our court. She will show you the palace's workings, the customs of our people, and the strength of our nation."
Azula's lips curved into a faint smile, though there was a glimmer of curiosity in her sharp eyes, "Of course, Father. I'll be sure to make it an enlightening experience."
Rivka felt that the word "enlightening" carried more weight than it should, so he turned his attention back to Ozai.
"You trust me to learn your ways despite who I am?"
Ozai stood, his presence filling the room, but his tone was measured, "I trust that the bond we share will guide you. You may not understand it now, but in time, you will see why this was inevitable."
Rivka stiffened at the mention of the bond. He had hoped it would go ignored a little bit longer, but alas, in for a dime, he supposed.
"Go with her," Ozai said, gesturing toward Azula, "Learn and remember, Rivka, this is not a prison. It is an opportunity."
With that, the audience was over. Rivka followed Azula out of the chamber, the weight of Ozai's words settling heavily on his shoulders. Azula led him down the hall, her steps confident and purposeful. She said nothing at first, but Rivka could feel her gaze flicking to him now and then, studying him like a hawk studies its prey.
"Father has a curious sense of timing," she said, at last, her tone light but edged with suspicion.
"Plucking a Waterbender from the battlefield and giving him a tour of the palace? There's something he isn't telling me."
Rivka glanced at her, his face carefully neutral, "Perhaps he wants me to see your culture before deciding whether or not to execute me."
Azula let out a soft laugh, "Oh, I don't think so. If he wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made it past the ship. No, there's something else."
She stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a sly smile, "Whatever it is, you've caught his attention. That makes you very interesting and very dangerous."
Rivka met her gaze evenly, refusing to let her intimidate him, "I'll try to live up to the expectations."
Azula's smile widened, though it didn't reach her eyes, "Oh, you will. One way or another."
The rest of the walk was silent, but Rivka couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking a razor-thin line. Whatever Ozai's true intentions were, one thing was certain: his life had just become infinitely more complicated.
Notes:
Edited 16.03.25
Chapter Text
Azula approached the task of showing Rivka around the Fire Nation with her usual calculated precision, viewing it as an opportunity to prove her value to her father and assess Rivka for herself. She led him through the palace and the capital, offering a curated glimpse into the culture, customs, and might of the Fire Nation. Her explanations were sharp and efficient, but they carried an undertone of both pride and veiled threat. Azula began with the palace itself, explaining its structure and symbolism.
"The palace is the heart of the Fire Nation, much like its ruler is the heart of our people," she said, her voice smooth as they walked past towering statues of past Fire Lords. Every aspect of its design reflects power and balances the foundation of our culture. The royal family has been on the throne for generations. Surely, you know some of the previous Fire Lords?"
"I recall Fire Lord Azulon and Fire Lord Sozin alongside the current Fire Lord," Rivka dutifully replied, his brow quirked.
Some of those men had started the war that had lasted his entire lifetime. She ignored the tone and led him to the throne room's doors but kept him in the hall.
"Here, my father receives dignitaries and delivers decrees. Every word he speaks in this chamber reshapes the world."
Rivka couldn't miss the reverence in her tone when she spoke of her father, though it was tinged with a need to prove herself worthy of him. He studied the throne from afar, its intimidating presence reflecting the Fire Lord's might.
Azula took Rivka to observe the capital city from afar, essentially from the palace's high points.
"Observe," she commanded as they watched the bustling streets. Vendors hawked goods, soldiers patrolled with disciplined precision, and citizens moved with purpose, "This is the result of unity. The Fire Nation thrives because its people are disciplined and loyal. Each one plays their part."
She paused to glance at a plaza where a group of children were practising Firebending drills under the watchful eyes of an instructor. The flames they conjured danced in unison, their faces alight with determination.
"Even our youngest understand the importance of strength," Azula remarked, "It is through this discipline that we have achieved greatness."
Rivka nodded thoughtfully but said nothing, his mind quietly turning over the stark contrast between the Fire Nation's rigid structure and the more fluid, communal way of life in the Water Tribes.
Over a quick lunch, Azula introduced Rivka to the subtleties of Fire Nation dining customs. Like the people themselves, Rivka noted the spice and heat in the food. Despite the tension, he allowed himself to enjoy the spicy noodles and spiced toppings, noting their robust flavours. Azula caught his faint smile.
"You're adjusting quickly. Perhaps there's hope for you yet."
"Not too quickly, I hope. Do you know how rare it is to stumble upon Fire Nation cuisine if you're not born to it? This is authentically quite the privilege, all things aside," Rivka informed, seeing the glint in Azula's eye before she spoke next.
"Yes, well, you are also eating at the Royal Palace. Not many people can say they've even been inside, much less a Waterbender who has openly fought against us."
Rivka wisely decided to shut up and eat the rest of his food without further comment on the topic.
The afternoon showed him some of the areas around his newly acquired guest chambers, including the empty war room, the library, the gardens, and a potential study for him. Azula took him to a private training courtyard within the palace as the sun started to set.
"If you're going to survive in the Fire Nation, you'll need more than words," she said, tossing him a wooden training sword, "Show me what the Water Tribe has taught you."
Rivka raised the weapon, his movements measured and deliberate. Azula tested him with sharp, calculated strikes, incorporating her Firebending into the sparring.
"You fight like a soldier," she observed after a few exchanges, "Efficient but predictable. If you're going to learn anything here, start with this: Fire doesn't wait. It strikes first and burns everything in its path."
Rivka countered her next attack with surprising fluidity, his motions adapting as though he were guiding her flames rather than opposing them.
"And water doesn't fight fire head-on. It redirects, tempers it, and waits for the right moment to strike back."
Azula's eyes narrowed, but there was a glimmer of interest. By the end of the day, Rivka was exhausted but informed. Azula escorted him back to his quarters, her demeanour as composed as ever.
"You've seen a glimpse of what makes the Fire Nation great," she said, "Now, the question is whether you'll embrace it or remain stubbornly tied to your old ways."
Rivka gave her a small, knowing smile, "I guess we'll find out."
Azula paused before turning away, her voice dropping slightly.
"You've intrigued my father. That alone is dangerous. Don't waste this chance, Rivka."
As she left, Rivka sat down heavily, his mind whirring. The Fire Nation was more than he had imagined - strong, disciplined, and unyielding. But there were cracks in its facade, moments of vulnerability he couldn't ignore.
Perhaps, in time, he could find a way to widen those cracks, or maybe the Fire Nation would find a way to change him. He was a fan of figuring out other cultures here and there, especially in a combat sense, but historically, they were interesting, too. Rivka wouldn't mind getting to know more about why the Fire Nation decided to start the war and continue with it and what they proposed doing now that his, as the Fire Lord's potential soulmate, homeland was at risk from them. All questions to have over tea and hope he didn't get the cup thrown at him, he supposed.
Rivka's slumber was another restless night. Every creak of the palace walls and the distant echo of footsteps made him jolt, his mind refusing to settle. The bed, luxurious compared to the cold cell he'd grown used to, felt foreign, too soft, too unfamiliar. The weight of the Fire Nation's expectations pressed on him, and the hum of his soulmark only added to his unease.
It wasn't just the external noises that kept him awake; it was the sensations emanating from his mark. They tugged and twisted at his chest like a thread being pulled taut. Sometimes, they felt like a burst of heat spreading across his ribs, strong and demanding, as if urging him to act. Other times, they felt like a cool, steady pulse, grounding him against the storm of his thoughts.
But tonight, the mark seemed to have a mind of its own.
At one moment, it flared sharply and fierily, sending a jolt through his entire body. Rivka sat up abruptly, clutching his chest as though he could physically hold back the sensation. His breath came fast, and for a moment, he thought he was having a heart attack. Then, just as suddenly, the heat subsided, replaced by a strange calm.
"What are you doing?" he muttered to no one, glaring at the mark as if it could answer him, "Is that him? Is that what he's feeling?"
The idea unnerved him. Was Ozai testing the bond and probing it to see if it could be manipulated? Or was this simply how it worked, the emotions of one soul bleeding into the other? Rivka wasn't sure which possibility frightened him more.
The sensations didn't stop. Throughout the night, his soulmark alternated between sharp, fiery bursts and soothing pulses, like a storm trying to calm itself. Rivka tried to meditate, focusing on his breathing and imagining himself surrounded by the cool embrace of water. It worked briefly, but the mark always pulled him back, disrupting his focus.
By the time dawn began to creep into the sky, Rivka was exhausted. His body ached from tension, his mind felt frayed, and his temper was dangerously close to snapping. When a knock sounded at his door, he wasn't sure whether to throw something at the person or thank them for the distraction.
The attendant who entered looked as polished as ever, bowing slightly before addressing him.
"The Fire Lord has requested that you prepare for a formal introduction to his advisors and select members of the court tomorrow. Preparations will begin today."
Rivka blinked, barely processing the words, "Tomorrow? He's parading me in front of his nobles tomorrow?"
"That is correct, sir," the attendant replied, completely unbothered by Rivka's incredulity.
"It is an honour to be presented as a companion to the Fire Lord. You will be provided with attire fitting for the occasion and instructed in court etiquette today."
Rivka resisted the urge to groan. He was already worn thin from Azula's lessons and the restless night, and now he was expected to be paraded like some prize?
"Wonderful," he muttered under his breath.
The attendant gave a small, polite smile that didn't reach their eyes.
"Breakfast will be brought shortly. Afterwards, you will meet with a tutor to refine your understanding of Fire Nation customs. The Fire Lord has high expectations."
"Of course he does," Rivka said, forcing himself to keep his tone light. He couldn't afford to snap, not now, "Let's hope I don't disappoint."
The attendant bowed again and left, leaving Rivka alone with his thoughts. He rubbed his face and let out a long breath.
"So, I'm being dressed up and shown off to the most powerful people in the Fire Nation," he said aloud, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "What could possibly go wrong?"
He looked down at his mark, the deep sunset orange standing out starkly against his skin. It pulsed faintly, a steady rhythm that felt almost reassuring. Rivka frowned.
"I don't know what your game is," he murmured, speaking to the bond as if it could hear him, "But you'd better not get me killed."
Contrary to what impression Rivka may have given, he was a Master at the Northern Water Tribe and had spent time in settings that required proper etiquette. He had attended councils, mediated disputes, and even dined with visiting dignitaries. While he wasn't exactly a polished courtier, he could hold his own when the situation called for it. Still, the cultural differences between Fire Nation and Water Tribe etiquette were vast, and Rivka wasn't entirely sure how much of his training would translate.
The moment he entered the designated chamber, he knew this was going to be an ordeal. His etiquette teacher, an older woman named Lady Kyori, exuded a formidable presence that Rivka almost stumbled upon as he crossed the threshold. She was immaculate, her crimson robes pristine, and her dark hair styled in a perfect bun that could likely withstand a hurricane. Her sharp eyes appraised him with the kind of scrutiny that could cut through steel.
"Sit," she commanded, gesturing to a low bench in the centre of the room.
Rivka obeyed, lowering himself into the seat and trying to look as composed as possible.
"Your posture is atrocious," Kyori snapped before he'd even had a chance to settle.
"Good morning to you, too," Rivka muttered under his breath.
Kyori's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You will address me as Lady Kyori. And you will speak only when spoken to."
"Of course, Lady Kyori," Rivka replied, inclining his head slightly.
She stared at him for a moment longer, as if daring him to misstep again, before launching into her lesson. She began with a thorough and exceedingly dry explanation of the Fire Nation's hierarchy, detailing every level of nobility and their proper forms of address. Rivka listened intently at first, but his mind began to wander somewhere between the distinctions of regional governors and military advisors.
"Are you paying attention, Waterbender?" Kyori asked sharply, pulling him back to reality.
"Absolutely," Rivka replied, straightening his posture and doing his best to look attentive.
Kyori didn't seem convinced, but she continued anyway, moving on to proper dining etiquette. She demonstrated the correct way to hold chopsticks, the precise angle at which to bow to a superior, and the subtle art of offering a toast without overstepping one's station. Rivka tried to absorb it all, but the sheer volume of rules was overwhelming.
"Do you understand why this is important?" Kyori asked, her tone stern.
"To avoid offending someone who could have me executed with a snap of their fingers?" Rivka offered.
Kyori's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she quickly masked it with a disapproving frown.
"Partly. It is also a reflection of your respect for the Fire Lord and the nation he leads. You will represent him whether you wish to or not. Every misstep you make will reflect poorly on him."
The weight of her words settled heavily on Rivka's shoulders. She was right. If Ozai truly intended to present him to the court, Rivka's behaviour would be scrutinized as a reflection of the Fire Lord's judgment. The stakes were higher than he'd realized.
"I'll do my best," Rivka said earnestly.
"You'll do better than that," Kyori replied, "Now, let's review how to bow properly. I will not tolerate another sloppy attempt like the one you made when you entered this room."
Rivka sighed inwardly but rose to his feet, ready to endure whatever Lady Kyori had planned for him. If he was going to survive the Fire Nation court, he needed to learn fast.
Notes:
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, let's welcome 2025 with a smile :)
*Edited 16.03.25
Chapter Text
Fire Nation etiquette was predominantly similar to the Water Tribe's, Rivka concluded after he'd survived lunch and dinner getting schooled by Lady Kyori. He would wager that the level of formality expected was greater and that he'd never had to parade around as someone more than a Master, but that wasn't very helpful.
By the time he was free, his shoulders were stiff and wrists tender. He'd assumed if he was going to be formally introduced, he would be free of his cuffs in the morning, which would be interesting. Despite the internal debate of laughing while practising etiquette in cuffs, there was still lingering shame in the situation. He was getting good at using chopsticks while chained for whatever party trick that would be in the future.
Rivka lay down in his maroon bedrobe, and his attendants came to free his hair from its formal look and offer him the new robe. His chest still churned a bit nervously. He did but didn't know what he was getting himself into. While he tried to rest, the soul mark twirled with a mix of emotions, stopping him from sleeping but being nowhere near as turbulent as last night.
Surprise, surprise, upon a sharp spike of anxious energy, Fire Lord Ozai stood in his doorway yet again. However, this time, it was with the familiar key to his shackles. Rivka sat up abruptly, blinking at the imposing figure in the doorway. Ozai didn't step inside immediately, instead lingering with a deliberate presence that felt as though it sucked the air out of the room. The flickering lamplight illuminated the key in his hand, which he turned slowly between his fingers.
"Still awake, I see," Ozai remarked, his voice low and even.
It wasn't a question; it was an observation, one laced with a subtle edge that instinctively straightened Rivka's spine.
"It's hard to sleep with so much on my mind," Rivka replied carefully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
He gestured toward the mark on his chest with a faintly sardonic smile, "I'm sure you can relate."
Ozai's gaze flickered briefly to the soul mark, though his expression betrayed nothing. Slowly, he stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
"I can," Ozai admitted, his tone measured, "Though I suspect your thoughts are far more... Conflicted than mine."
Rivka tilted his head, studying the man. There was something in Ozai's eyes tonight, something different. Not exactly softer, but less overtly menacing than before. It was as though he was sizing Rivka up yet again, but this time with a hint of curiosity rather than pure calculation.
"You've been compliant," Ozai continued, approaching the bed with deliberate steps, "You've endured Kyori's lessons without complaint, and from what I've heard, you've even managed to impress her. That is no small feat."
"Glad to know I've passed the first test," Rivka replied dryly.
Ozai didn't smile, but there was a flicker of something amusement, perhaps, in his expression.
"I would hardly call it a test. Think of it as preparation."
"For what?" Rivka asked, though he already suspected the answer.
Ozai stopped just short of the bed, towering over Rivka with the key still dangling loosely in his hand.
"For your place in the Fire Nation," he said simply.
Rivka's chest tightened.
"You mean as your soulmate? " There was a faint pause, and Ozai's sharp and unyielding gaze bore into him.
"Yes, but more than that," he said, leaning forward slightly, just enough to make Rivka feel the weight of his presence, "You are an asset, Rivka—a rare one, and I intend to use every advantage this bond has afforded me."
"Charming," Rivka muttered under his breath, though he couldn't quite suppress the twinge of apprehension that crept into his voice.
Ozai's eyes narrowed, and Rivka wondered if he'd gone too far, but instead of lashing out, Ozai stepped back and held up the key. "Stand," he commanded.
Rivka hesitated briefly before rising to his feet. Ozai reached out and slotted the key into the lock, and for the first time, Rivka felt the cold metal of the shackles slip away from his wrists. He flexed his hands instinctively, the relief of freedom mingling with the lingering weight of caution.
"You'll need to get used to being unshackled," Ozai said, his tone matter-of-fact, "Tomorrow, you will be presented to my advisors and the nobles of this palace. They will scrutinize you, judge you, and determine whether you are worthy of standing at my side."
"And if they decide I'm not?" Rivka asked, his voice quiet but firm.
Ozai's expression darkened slightly, his gaze piercing, "Then they will be reminded that their opinions are irrelevant, but I expect you to make it easy for them to see what I see."
"And what is that?" Rivka asked, unable to hide the faint note of scepticism in his voice.
Ozai's lips curled into something resembling a smirk, though it was far from reassuring.
"Potential."
With that, he turned and strode toward the door, leaving Rivka with his newly freed wrists and a head full of questions. Just before exiting, Ozai glanced back over his shoulder.
"Rest while you can. Tomorrow will test you in ways you can not yet imagine."
The door closed with a soft thud, leaving Rivka alone in the dimly lit room. He flexed his wrists again, the phantom weight of the shackles still lingering even as his skin bore no marks.
"Potential," he muttered, sinking back onto the bed. The soulmark hummed faintly, a mix of anticipation and unease threading through his chest.
Whatever tomorrow brought, Rivka knew one thing for certain: it wouldn't be easy. Sleep was a bit easier without the weight of the shackles, although the lack of weight was unfamiliar. He'd kept reflecting on what Ozai had told him alongside factors like Azula's perception of him and even the extent of Lady Kyori and how his performance would reflect on her, too. Another aspect of concern that was due to be mulled over at a later date was Ozai's intentions with him.
Announcing that his soulmate was a Waterbender who had politically stood up to the Fire Nation in the past... That was a bold choice. He had one question that needed answering before he decided if he was going to keep behaving as he was.
What was the current motivation for the war?
His home had been directly affected by the war, as had he. On a personal level, he had little left of his direct relatives, and they weren't of high standing. The Chief Arnook and his family were, to Rivka's knowledge, still aware he was alive the last he'd spoken to them years ago. He'd left on tense but good terms; as a Waterbender, he had the power to get himself back into Agna Qel'a again, but the city was almost locked tight. He was unsure, other than the Avatar, if there was any way for them to know about his current whereabouts, much less his current political situation.
Maybe he could volley for diplomacy; he was the Fire Lord's soulmate, and that had to count for something. It still was as sleep dawned on him, a thought for another day.
Waking to the attendants who refused to offer their names was not the most pleasant experience. They wiped him down, brushed and tied his hair into a traditional Fire Nation style, and offered him more formal maroon robes. His hair remained in the half-do, and he pointedly flicked his Water Tribe braid onto his shoulder to clash with his robe. They only tried to fix this once before he set them with a stern glare.
He would play his role and be tidy and proper. Meet with nobles of all kinds and play this silly royal game for eventual answers. The Generals, at least, knew he was strong and could and would put people in their place. That didn't stop Lady Kyori from showing up at breakfast to teach him until late afternoon when he was to meet with Fire Lord Ozai before he was introduced.
The chamber was silent but heavy with the tension of unspoken words. Rivka stood by the far wall, his posture straight but his expression guarded. His maroon robes hung heavily on his shoulders, and his Water Tribe braid draped over one shoulder, a quiet defiance against the Fire Nation's crimson dominance.
Fire Lord Ozai entered the room without ceremony, his footsteps echoing sharply against the stone floor. Rivka turned his head slightly, acknowledging him with a measured glance but not a word. Ozai stopped a few paces away, his golden eyes narrowing as they met Rivka's calm, steady gaze.
"Are you prepared?" Ozai asked, his tone devoid of warmth.
"As much as I can be," Rivka replied, his voice equally cool, "Though I admit, I'm curious about how you plan to frame this introduction."
Ozai's lips curled into something that was not quite a smile.
"Curious, are you? Then, allow me to clarify. You will not be introduced for your skills, your defiance, or whatever clever quips you believe set you apart. You are here because of what you represent, a connection the Fire Nation holds in the highest regard."
Rivka's jaw tightened, though he kept his expression neutral, "And what exactly do I represent? A bond neither of us asked for? A political statement?"
Ozai's gaze sharpened, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, "You represent power, Rivka. A rarity that ties us together whether we wish it or not. This court values strength, and while they may balk at the notion of a Water Tribe soulmate, they will respect what it signifies."
"Respect," Rivka repeated, his tone laced with quiet scepticism, "And if they don't?"
"Then they will learn," Ozai said coldly, "Or they will face the consequences."
For a moment, the two men stared at each other, the air between them charged with tension. Rivka's soul mark hummed faintly, a tugging sensation that made his chest ache in ways he refused to dwell on. He drew in a slow breath, breaking the silence.
"And what is it you expect of me today?" Rivka asked, his voice carefully even, "To smile and nod? To play the dutiful companion to the Fire Lord?"
Ozai tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, "I expect you to remember your place. You are here because I allow it, Rivka. Do not mistake this for a position of power."
Rivka's lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded once curtly, "Understood."
Ozai stepped closer, his presence a looming shadow, "When we walk into that hall, you will stand beside me, silent unless spoken to. You will be a symbol, nothing more. Do not give them a reason to doubt my decision."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Rivka said, the faintest edge creeping into his voice.
He turned his head away, breaking the locked gazes between them, "Shall we get this over with, then?"
Ozai studied him for a moment longer before turning toward the door, "Follow me."
The heavy doors opened into a grand hall, where the murmurs of the gathered nobles immediately ceased. All eyes turned to the two men, their gazes flickering with curiosity, unease, and barely masked judgment. Rivka felt the weight of their scrutiny like a physical force, but he kept his expression neutral, his spine straight.
Ozai strode forward, his steps commanding, his presence dominating the room. Rivka followed half a step behind, his Water Tribe braid stark against the sea of crimson and gold. When they reached the dais, Ozai turned to address the court, his voice resonating with authority.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Royal Court, I present to you Rivka of the Northern Water Tribe," Ozai began, his tone sharp and deliberate.
"He is my soulmate, as marked by the spirits themselves. This bond is not one of choice but of destiny. And destiny, as you all know, is not something to be denied."
The room rippled with murmurs, shock and disbelief mingling in the air. Rivka felt their stares intensify, a mix of awe and unease radiating from the gathered nobles.
"This connection," Ozai continued, his gaze sweeping over the room, "is a testament to the Fire Nation's strength. Even the spirits recognise our power, forging bonds that transcend borders and elements. Rivka stands here today as proof that no force, not even the Water Tribes, can resist the inevitability of the Fire Nation's will."
Rivka clenched his jaw but said nothing, his expression carefully composed. The court's murmurs grew louder, whispers of intrigue and speculation filling the air.
Ozai turned his head slightly, his voice dropping low enough for only Rivka to hear, "Stand tall, Waterbender. They are watching. Show them why you are worthy of standing beside me."
Rivka inhaled deeply, steadying himself before meeting the crowd's gaze with quiet determination. He may have been a symbol at that moment, but he was no one's pawn. Not yet, at least.
The mingling was boring and tense, something that Rivka noticed the royals themselves seemed to hold little regard for. Ozai and Azula looked bored out of their minds a good portion of the time and side-eyed him the rest when he was spoken to. Rivka was thankful for his nature with words; he got away without encouraging some of the dated ideals of the upper Fire Nation society without punching them, and they didn't learn that he didn't support his tribe being colonised - win-win for the evening. Several of the Gernerals apologised to him subtly, a smart move if he was honest, trying to beat the man who ended up your leader's soulmate was probably regrettable.
Princess Azula did try to pull a stint with him that toed a very scary line of getting him in trouble. She started speaking of his origins to some of the non-military nobles, throwing Rivka into the conversation and having him meet the expectant looks of the civilian noble couple.
Rivka met Azula's calculated smirk with a measured glance. She had been setting traps since mid-evening, subtle ones that required careful navigation. This latest maneuver, however, was brazen. The noble couple before him looked at him expectantly, their faces a mix of intrigue and barely concealed scepticism.
"Master Rivka," Azula began, her voice dripping with polite venom. I was just telling Lord and Lady Wen here about your fascinating origins. You are a master of the Northern Water Tribe, trained in the ancient ways of bending, and yet here you stand, united with the Fire Nation in a bond of destiny. Quite the tale, wouldn't you agree?"
Rivka's stomach twisted at her saccharine tone, but outwardly, he remained calm. He gave the couple a slight nod, his lips curling into a polite smile.
"It is quite a tale," he said smoothly, his voice steady, "Destiny has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?"
Lady Wen tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as if she were dissecting him, "Indeed. Though one must wonder, Master Rivka, how a man of your background adjusts to the grandeur of the Fire Nation. Surely, it's... Quite different from the simplicity of the Water Tribe."
Ah, there it was. Rivka could feel Azula's gaze on him, sharp and expectant, waiting for him to slip. The nobles had set the stage, and he was their unwitting performer.
Rivka chuckled lightly, keeping his tone disarmingly casual, "Different, yes, but intriguing. The Fire Nation's grandeur is undeniable, and its traditions are rich. There's much to learn and, I think, much to appreciate. Simplicity, as you call it, has its own merits, of course, but adapting to new circumstances is a skill I've honed over the years."
Lord Wen's expression softened slightly, though it was clear he remained sceptical, "And yet, your people are stubborn, are they not? Resistant to progress, to the Fire Nation's guidance."
Azula's smile widened imperceptibly, her golden eyes flicking between Rivka and the nobles like a hawk watching its prey. This was the moment she had been angling for, a chance to force Rivka into defending his homeland or aligning himself with the Fire Nation.
Rivka let the silence stretch for a beat longer than was comfortable before responding,
"Stubbornness, I find, is often just another name for resilience," he said, his voice firm but not defensive, "The Water Tribe has endured much, and in doing so, they've preserved their identity. But resilience doesn't preclude the possibility of growth or understanding. It simply means we value what is ours, even as we learn to adapt."
The couple exchanged a glance, their expressions inscrutable. Azula, meanwhile, tilted her head, a hint of surprise flickering across her face before it vanished. Rivka knew he had sidestepped the trap, though just barely.
"How diplomatic of you," Azula said, her tone laced with amusement, "Father will be pleased to hear such measured words. Perhaps you're more suited to court life than I initially thought."
Rivka inclined his head slightly, his gaze steady, "Perhaps. Time will tell."
The conversation moved on, but the tension lingered. Rivka could feel the court's eyes on him, the weight of their expectations pressing down like a leaden cloak. He had survived this skirmish, but the war was far from over.
Later, as the mingling continued and the nobles dispersed into smaller groups, Rivka caught Azula's eye across the room. Her smirk was gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating. It wasn't clear whether she was impressed or merely recalibrating her approach, but Rivka knew one thing for certain: this was far from the last time she would test him.
And somewhere, not far from the chaos of the evening, Fire Lord Ozai watched it all unfold with an expression Rivka couldn't quite read.
Notes:
Edited 16.03.25
Chapter Text
Rivka fell into bed after the meeting with a barely withheld groan of annoyance. He happily face-planted into the pillows and momentarily sat there, refusing to think about anything. Fire Lord Ozai could walk in the door and demand a conversation, and he might honestly tell him where to shove it; he was that tired from the evening court socialising. It hadn't helped that Azula had seemed to have a distinct interest in getting him to trip up his political alignments.
Speaking of, he needed to start forcing conversations about that. However, he could barely keep his thoughts on the matter together, as it was a knot of a web to untangle.
He rolled onto his back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling as his mind tugged reluctantly at the knot of thoughts he'd been avoiding. The Fire Nation's court was an intricate dance of power and posturing, but underneath the formalities and pleasantries, it reeked of conquest and supremacy. Every noble he'd spoken to had casually reinforced those ideals, their words drenched with a sense of entitlement that turned his stomach.
How many times tonight had someone commented on the "civilizing influence" the Fire Nation brought to the colonies? How many times had he swallowed back the urge to tell them exactly what that "civilization" looked like to the people it was forced upon? Villages burned to ash, families torn apart, and traditions left to wither under the weight of imposed rule.
Although the Northern Water Tribe was insulated by geography and natural defences, it still felt the Fire Nation's presence. Resources were stretched thin, warriors were spread across distant battlefronts, and fear lingered in the hearts of even the most steadfast. Rivka had seen it all firsthand.
And now he was here, on the other side of it, surrounded by the very people responsible.
It wasn't just the policies of war that concerned him, though. It was the deep-seated cultural norms that justified them. The Fire Nation's unshakable belief in its superiority had been present in nearly every interaction he'd had tonight. Even the nobles who spoke to him politely couldn't quite mask their curiosity and disdain. He was a Water Tribe man, a foreigner, and, in their eyes, someone beneath them. His connection to Ozai had temporarily elevated his status, but he doubted it would extend far beyond their fascination with the soulmark.
Rivka rubbed his temples, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. If he was going to survive here, he'd need to tread carefully. But survival wasn't enough. He couldn't just sit back and allow these ideals to fester around him unchecked.
He didn't know yet how to navigate the intricacies of Fire Nation politics, force meaningful conversations with Ozai, or challenge beliefs without painting a target on his back, but he would find a way.
Because if he didn't, he feared what might become of his people.
Rivka's hand drifted absently to his chest, where the soulmark rested beneath his robes. The warmth of it was steady now, a faint hum at the edge of his awareness. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. Whatever this bond was, it had brought him here for a reason. With those thoughts, he finally slipped into a good night's sleep.
When the attendants woke him the next morning, there seemed to be a different energy in the air. It wasn't until breakfast that Rivka understood why. He'd been allowed more access around the palace. Monitored, of course, and with strict limits on where he could go and what he could do, but he was no longer confined to his quarters.
The shift was subtle but significant, and Rivka took it as a win. Even if the attendants and guards still avoided talking to him more than necessary, he wasn't about to waste the opportunity. Freedom, no matter how conditional, was something he'd learned to value deeply. By mid-morning, Rivka found himself in one of the smaller sections of the palace library, an attendant stationed discreetly by the door to ensure he didn't cause trouble. The room was quiet, the smell of old parchment and ink soothing in a way that almost made him forget where he was.
Fire Nation literature was extensive, and Rivka was quickly drawn to texts on philosophy, history, and military strategy. The history books painted a predictable picture, a narrative of Fire Nation's progress and triumph, but between the lines, there were glimpses of the struggles and losses that had shaped the nation.
Rivka spent hours flipping through pages, noting patterns in the Fire Nation's tactics and the justifications for their expansionist policies. It wasn't just a matter of conquest; it was about identity, about a belief in their divine right to shape the world. It was chilling but fascinating. By mid-afternoon, Rivka was engrossed in a Fire Nation naval strategy treatise when a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"I see you've made yourself at home here, Master Rivka."
Lady Kyori's presence was as sharp and composed as ever. She stood in the doorway, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
Rivka nodded politely, setting the book aside, "Lady Kyori, to what do I owe the honour?"
She glanced at the scattered books and scrolls around him, her expression unreadable, "You've been given a rare opportunity, and it seems you intend to make use of it."
"I've always believed knowledge is a useful weapon," Rivka replied evenly, "Though I admit, the library has some...unique perspectives."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, "I imagine our perspectives differ greatly from what you're accustomed to. Perhaps you'd care to share some of those differences over tea."
Over the following days, tea with Lady Kyori became a regular occurrence. Their conversations were polite and almost guarded at first, but Rivka's curiosity and sharp mind quickly earned her respect. They spoke of Fire Nation society, its rigid hierarchies, and its unyielding emphasis on discipline and order. Rivka asked questions that probed deeper, subtle but incisive, and Lady Kyori responded with equally calculated answers.
"What you see as rigidity," she said one afternoon, "We see as strength. A society cannot flourish without structure. The Fire Nation is united because we value cohesion above all else."
"And what of the cracks?" Rivka countered his tone light but pointed, "Even the strongest structures can crumble if the foundation isn't sound."
Lady Kyori studied him for a long moment before responding, "A fair observation. But it's like leaders to ensure those cracks are sealed."
Their discussions caught the attention of Lady Kyori's friend, Lord Shingen, a noble known for his intellectual pursuits and love of debate. Lady Kyori introduced Rivka to him with an almost amused air, and it wasn't long before Rivka and Shingen were deep in conversation.
"What's your perspective on the war, Master Rivka?" Shingen asked one evening, his voice thoughtful, "From your unique vantage point, of course."
Rivka sipped his tea, considering his response, "It's a complicated subject. War is rarely as simple as good versus evil. It's about power, survival, and the stories people tell themselves to justify their actions."
"And what of the spirits?" Shingen asked, his eyes alight with curiosity, "Do you believe they play a role in shaping these conflicts?"
Rivka leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative, "The spirits are tied to balance. When that balance is disturbed by human ambition or neglect, the consequences ripple across the world. Perhaps the war is as much a symptom of that imbalance as it is a cause."
Shingen nodded slowly, his fingers drumming against the table, "Fascinating. I'd be curious to hear more about how your people interpret that balance."
The conversation flowed late into the evening, touching on everything from the nature of leadership to the philosophy of bending itself. Rivka enjoyed the exchange despite his reservations; it was rare to meet someone in the Fire Nation who valued dialogue over dominance.
But even as he spoke, part of his mind remained focused on the larger picture. Every word exchanged, every idea explored, was a step toward understanding the Fire Nation's mindset and, perhaps, finding a way to influence it. Despite the lack of action, Rivka was also aware that every word he spoke and thought he shared was being reported. Be it to the war council, Ozai, or even some weird sector; there would always be someone keeping tabs on him. He was almost surprised that he had gotten away with it for four days, establishing a pattern of sorts before another change occurred.
It didn't come as a surprise when Ozai summoned him five days after he'd been introduced to the Fire Nation's upper society. He'd almost expected to be forced into a magnitude of social-political appearances, but there was still time for that. He didn't expect that Ozai would be waiting for him in a war room on the opposite side of a mapped table. He could have gone grey at the situation alone. Was he expected to give his input on something military-related?
The air in the war room was thick with tension as Rivka entered, the heavy doors closing behind him with an ominous thud. The room was sparsely populated, save for two attendants lingering near the edges and Fire Lord Ozai standing at the head of a massive table. The meticulously detailed map spread across its surface showed the Fire Nation's territories, the conquered lands, and the few remaining strongholds of resistance.
Ozai didn't look up immediately, his gaze fixed on a set of markers on the map. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, almost disconcertingly so.
"You've spent the last few days engaging with our scholars and nobles, haven't you?"
Rivka inclined his head, unsure if the question was rhetorical, "I have."
"And yet, you remain a curiosity," Ozai continued, finally lifting his eyes to meet Rivka's, "Your words are measured, your actions deliberate. Tell me, Rivka, what do you think of the Fire Nation now that you've had a glimpse behind the curtain?"
Rivka hesitated, choosing his words carefully.
"It's clear the Fire Nation is disciplined, resourceful, and relentless in its pursuit of its goals, but it's also...unyielding. There's strength in that, but strength without flexibility can be dangerous."
A flicker of something - amusement? Annoyance? Crossed Ozai's face, "Dangerous, you say?"
"Unyielding structures crack under pressure," Rivka replied, his tone even, "If there's no room for adaptation, even the strongest empires can fall."
Ozai studied him for a long moment before gesturing to the map, "Come closer."
Rivka stepped forward, his eyes scanning the map. It was a masterpiece of cartography, but the red-and-black markers denoting Fire Nation dominance were almost overwhelming.
"You've lived on the other side of this war," Ozai said, his voice lowering slightly. You've seen what resistance and " balance " look like. I'm curious, Rivka, how you would approach this conflict if you were in my position."
Rivka blinked, thrown off-guard by the question. Was this a trap? A test? He glanced at the attendants, their faces carefully blank, and then back at Ozai.
"I would seek to understand the enemy's perspective," Rivka said cautiously, "Not to validate it, but to find leverage. Wars are won not just with force but with strategy and diplomacy. Crushing an enemy is one thing; ensuring they don't rise again is another."
Ozai's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, "Diplomacy. An interesting choice of words from someone whose homeland has suffered so much at our hands."
Rivka's jaw tightened, but he held his ground, "Diplomacy doesn't mean weakness. Sometimes, it's the most effective form of strength."
Ozai leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, "And do you think the Fire Nation has been ineffective, Rivka?"
His tone was clearly challenging, but Rivka didn't back down, "I think the Fire Nation has achieved much through force. But sustaining that dominance requires a different kind of approach."
A heavy and charged silence fell between them. Ozai's gaze bore into Rivka as if he were trying to discern the deeper meaning behind his words.
Finally, Ozai straightened, his expression inscrutable, "You speak as if you wish to save us from ourselves. An amusing notion, given your circumstances. But I'll indulge your perspective for now."
He gestured to the map, "If you believe in balance and diplomacy, Rivka, prove it. These are the latest reports from the Earth Kingdom. Several strongholds remain resistant, their leaders stubbornly clinging to hope. If you were in my position, how would you handle them?"
Rivka hesitated, realizing the gravity of Ozai's question. This wasn't just a hypothetical exercise but a test and perhaps a glimpse of the role Ozai envisioned for him.
"I'd need to see the reports in detail," Rivka said slowly, buying time to gather his thoughts, "And I'd need to understand the Fire Nation's ultimate goals. What are you trying to achieve, Fire Lord Ozai? Is it conquest for the sake of power or something more?"
Ozai's eyes narrowed, but there was a glint of intrigue in them, "You tread a fine line, Rivka. But I'll allow it. Read the reports. Study the situation. And when you return to this room, I expect an answer."
With that, he turned and strode toward the doors, pausing only briefly, "Consider this your first step in proving your worth to the Fire Nation and me."
As the doors closed behind him, Rivka exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Ozai wasn't just testing his intelligence or loyalty; he was testing his resolve. This was his chance if Rivka wanted to influence the Fire Nation's path. However, he also needed to consider the social implications of what he was doing.
He could easily reach out an olive branch to the Northern Water Tribe and, by extension, any locations occupied by either Water Tribe; the Avatar was the last Airbender left, and Rivka could assume he would be happy for any peace settlements. That left the Earth Kingdom,m which had become isolationist in the later years of the war; from what Rivka had heard from the generational refugees, they were not allowed to speak of the war in the stronghold capital, Ba Sing Se, and many of their other colonies and towns were left to falter.
Notes:
Edited 19.03.25
Chapter Text
Rivka had spent most of his evening in a spare study that overlooked some gardens. He'd have his attendant waiting in the hall, giving him time to properly pour over the reports. He also requested parchment and ink to pen some of his thoughts down as he went, the cup of tea beside him long forgotten as a flickering flame soon became the only light in the room.
How the fuck would the Fire Nation open dialogue with the Earth Kingdom after nearly 100 years of war? Slowly, Rivka scoffed to himself because no one would immediately take to peace talks. Perhaps using his connection to the Water Tribe and opening diplomatic talks would be a better start and give the Earth Kingdom a point of reference that they were serious - if they were serious.
Rivka rubbed his temple, the ink on his fingers smudging slightly as he turned another page of the report. Despite their dominance, the Earth Kingdom's resistance was painted as fragmented and disorganized, yet resilient, a thorn in the Fire Nation's side. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, his Water Tribe braid falling over his shoulder. The reports focused heavily on military strategies, stronghold weaknesses, and resources. They didn't show the human cost, the toll on families and communities, and the destruction that had hardened the Earth Kingdom's resolve over decades.
He leaned back in the chair, staring at the flame dancing in the lantern. Were they serious? That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Was Ozai truly interested in peace, or was this just another maneuver to consolidate power? Rivka wasn't naive enough to believe in sudden altruism, but if Ozai saw a tactical advantage in diplomacy, that could be a thread to pull. A small opening to introduce change.
His gaze drifted to the gardens outside the window. The Fire Nation prided itself on its strength and control, its ability to bend the world to its will. Yet even the most rigid systems could bend under the right pressure. Rivka considered the cultural arrogance embedded in Fire Nation ideology. They didn't see their actions as conquest; they saw it as enlightenment, spreading their "superiority" to those they deemed lesser.
The Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes would not trust that kind of rhetoric. But if the Fire Nation could present itself not as a conqueror but as an equal partner, though Rivka doubted Ozai could stomach the idea, it might begin to shift the narrative slowly and carefully.
He dipped his brush in the ink again, writing down a few tentative ideas.
Approach the Water Tribe first: Rivka could initiate talks using his status as a Waterbender and Ozai's soulmate. If the Water Tribe began to entertain the possibility of dialogue, it might eventually soften the Earth Kingdom's stance.
Target smaller Earth Kingdom leaders: The large cities like Ba Sing Se would be nearly impossible to sway, but smaller provinces? They might be more pragmatic and willing to open discussions if it meant an end to the fighting in their regions.
To shift the narrative, the Fire Nation would have to publicly acknowledge the devastation caused by the war—not an apology but a calculated move to show self-awareness, something to plant doubt in the Earth Kingdom's belief that the Fire Nation was irredeemable.
Offer something tangible: Aid, reparations, or perhaps even pulling back from certain territories. A symbolic gesture to prove sincerity.
He paused, tapping the brush's end against the inkstone's edge. These were ideas, not solutions. Every one of them came with its own set of risks and complications, and Rivka knew that suggesting even the mildest version of them would likely provoke a backlash. The Fire Nation's generals would see it as a weakness, and Ozai, well, Rivka, wasn't entirely sure how Ozai would react. The man was an enigma, his motives opaque even in their private conversations.
Still, he had to act if Rivka wanted to be more than a symbol or a pawn. The Fire Nation was giving him a rare opportunity: a seat at the table, even if it was tentative and heavily monitored. He needed to make it count.
His fingers tightened around the brush. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on him, but so did the flicker of determination. If he played this carefully, he might be able to shift the course of a war that had claimed so much. But the path ahead was fraught with peril, and he was walking it alone, for now.
The door creaked open, and the attendant peered in cautiously.
"Fire Lord Ozai has requested your presence at first light," they said, their tone neutral.
Rivka nodded, setting down the brush, "Tell him I'll be ready."
As the attendant disappeared, Rivka glanced back at his notes. The ink was still drying, and the ideas were barely formed, but they were there—a start.
Rivka stared down at his notes, his mind circling back to the first idea. Approaching the Water Tribes felt like the most natural starting point, if not the easiest. The Water Tribes, particularly the Northern Tribe, were fiercely independent and deeply wary of outsiders. Rivka knew this better than anyone. The centuries-old traditions of his people emphasized unity and survival, often in direct opposition to the Fire Nation's imperialist ideology.
Still, there was an undeniable advantage in using his connection as Ozai's soulmate. Rivka himself was a bridge between worlds, albeit an imperfect one. His reputation as a wandering Waterbender master preceded him among his people, even if his direct ties to the North had waned over the years. That reputation could lend credibility to any overture from the Fire Nation - provided the Fire Nation presented it in the right way.
He began scribbling notes again.
Start with neutral topics. The Water Tribes wouldn't consider diplomacy if it involved demands. The initial focus should be on shared concerns, such as the war's impacts on spiritual sites, natural resources, or trade routes. Framing it as a dialogue rather than a negotiation might ease the tension.
Leverage his role: Rivka could act as an intermediary. He wasn't naive enough to think that would erase all suspicion, but it might encourage the Water Tribe elders to at least hear the Fire Nation out.
Acknowledge their losses: This was risky, but Rivka saw no other way forward. The Fire Nation would have to admit, at least indirectly, the devastation it had caused. Perhaps not in the form of an apology but through actions, offering aid, rebuilding destroyed outposts, or providing resources the Water Tribes sorely needed.
Rivka tapped his pen against the edge of the inkstone. If the Water Tribes could be convinced to entertain dialogue, it would create a precedent the Earth Kingdom couldn't ignore. The Water Tribes' smaller size and isolation made them a less intimidating first step compared to the sprawling, factionalized Earth Kingdom.
But the Earth Kingdom would be the real challenge. Its vast size and regional diversity made it impossible to approach as a single entity. Rivka then moved on to the next part of his notes.
Target smaller provinces: The major cities, especially Ba Sing Se, were unlikely to engage in talks without significant proof of the Fire Nation's intentions. Smaller provinces, particularly those on the periphery, might be more pragmatic. They had borne the brunt of the fighting and might be willing to negotiate if it meant relief from the conflict.
Find local leaders with influence: The Earth Kingdom's smaller provinces were often governed by local nobles or officials. Identifying and approaching those who had both the authority and the willingness to talk could create footholds for broader discussions.
Balance losses on both sides: This was key. The Earth Kingdom saw the Fire Nation as aggressors, but the Fire Nation had also suffered losses—soldiers, resources, and even internal dissent. Rivka couldn't deny the atrocities committed by the Fire Nation, but he also knew that framing the talks as a mutual opportunity to end the cycle of loss might resonate with pragmatic leaders.
He paused, staring down at the last note he had written. Acknowledge all sides' losses. It was a delicate line to walk. The Fire Nation's leadership would resist admitting fault, and the Earth Kingdom wouldn't want to equate their suffering with that of their aggressors. But the truth was undeniable: the war had left scars on every nation involved. If Rivka could find a way to frame that truth as a motivator for peace, it might open doors that seemed impossible to unlock.
He began drafting potential talking points:
Shared grief: "The war has cost all of us. Families torn apart, communities lost. If we can recognise that pain, perhaps we can begin to prevent more of it. "Pragmatic benefits: "Peace isn't just an ideal - it's a strategy. Trade, stability, and security benefit everyone. Continuing this war benefits no one but the graveyards. "A vision for the future: "What do we want the world to look like in ten, twenty, fifty years? We have an opportunity to shape it, or we can let it slip further into chaos."
Rivka put the pen down, rubbing his temples. He knew the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom would resist these ideas, but they were starting points, seeds that, if nurtured carefully, might grow into something more substantial.
He glanced out the window at the gardens again, the flicker of lanterns casting long shadows among the trees. The Fire Nation might not be ready to hear this yet, but he could plant the idea if he played his role carefully.
Start small, build slowly, and always look for the next crack in the armour.
Tomorrow, when he stepped back into the war room, he'd bring these ideas to the table—not as demands, but as quiet suggestions, observations that might take root over time. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
He was tired, a tension headache starting to pick at his skull as he packed up and moved back to his room. The ink had stained his fingers as he gripped his pages tightly; no one could see these before he announced them lest he be suspected of treason. Fire Lord Ozai might even think him too brave and send him back to his cell. Rivka would simply leave it, and that was the case; they were still technically on an island, and they'd lose him as soon as he got into the water.
As he settled into the sheets, Rivka made up his mind. If Ozai asked about what he'd do next, he'd start by offering to start the connection with the Water Tribe due to their developing political situation of being soulmates and then migrate those successes elsewhere. If he got redirected towards talking about the Earth Kingdom, he'd mention opening communications with a focus on newer colonies—what had worked, what didn't, and what was going on with the unrest.
With those thoughts in mind, Rivka fell asleep. He slept a bit fitfully, his soul mark twinging here and there with sudden emotions at random.
Rivka awoke with the faint light of dawn filtering through the crimson curtains, his body heavy from another restless night. The flickers of emotion from the mark had been sporadic but persistent, a reminder of the tether between him and the man who had, for better or worse, shaped so much of the world Rivka knew. He ran a hand through his hair, now loose from the Fire Nation style, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The ink stains on his fingers had faded slightly but were still visible as he glanced down at his hands. A Waterbender with Fire Nation ink on his hands. He shook his head at the irony before rising and gathering the papers he'd scribbled on the night before. These would remain hidden for now, but they gave him clarity. He folded them neatly and tucked them into the underside of the desk, a place no one but himself would think to check.
After dressing and eating a hurried breakfast, Rivka made his way to the war room, escorted as always by a pair of silent attendants. His thoughts churned with anticipation and apprehension. Today was important; he could feel it. Ozai wouldn't summon him without a purpose, and Rivka doubted it was to observe.
The guards opened the heavy double doors to the war room, and Rivka stepped inside. The air smelled of parchment and ink, and the polished table in the centre of the room was once again spread with maps. Ozai stood at the far side of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the detailed layout of the Earth Kingdom colonies. His golden eyes lifted to Rivka as the Waterbender entered, sharp and unreadable.
"Rivka," Ozai said, his tone cold but controlled, "You've been... exploring the palace, I hear."
Rivka inclined his head slightly, careful not to overplay his deference, "I've been making use of the time granted to me, Fire Lord Ozai. Learning about the Fire Nation's history, customs... and challenges."
Ozai's brow twitched at the last word, but he gave no immediate response. Instead, he gestured for Rivka to join him at the table.
"Come. I've summoned you here for more than pleasantries."
Rivka moved to the table, his heart pounding but his face composed. He glanced at the map, noting the bold red borders marking Fire Nation territories and the smaller, subtler markings indicating resistance movements in the Earth Kingdom. The colonies, in particular, were highlighted, and some had annotations indicating trouble spots.
"You've seen the Fire Nation's strength," Ozai began, his voice low and deliberate, "But strength alone doesn't ensure victory. The colonies, especially the newer ones, are proving troublesome. Sabotage, insubordination, whispers of rebellion. You've been on the other side of this war... tell me, Rivka, how would you quell such unrest?"
Rivka hesitated, not out of fear but to measure his words. This was a test of both his knowledge and his loyalty. He couldn't appear too eager, nor could he afford to seem defiant.
"With respect, Fire Lord," Rivka began, his voice steady, "quelling unrest isn't always about force. Strength may suppress rebellion in the short term but breeds resentment that will fester and rise again."
Ozai's eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt. Rivka continued, carefully choosing his words.
"The newer colonies are likely struggling with integration. The people see themselves as Earth Kingdom citizens under occupation, not as part of the Fire Nation or part of a colony. If I may, instead of crushing rebellion, you might consider addressing its root causes. Improving conditions in the colonies, offering them incentives to align with the Fire Nation's rule and so on."
"And you believe bribing the weak will bring them to heel?" Ozai's tone was sharp, almost mocking.
Rivka met his gaze, unflinching.
"Not bribery, Fire Lord. Diplomacy. Show them what the Fire Nation can offer beyond its military might. Stability, resources, opportunities. People are more willing to submit to a power they believe will improve their lives."
The room fell silent, the tension between them palpable. Ozai studied Rivka for a long moment, his expression inscrutable.
"And what of your people, Rivka?" he asked finally, his voice softer but no less cutting, "You suggest diplomacy with the Earth Kingdom. Would you also advise such leniency with the Water Tribes?"
Rivka's jaw tightened, but he maintained his composure.
"The Water Tribes are proud and resilient. They would not see diplomacy as leniency; they would see it as a chance to protect what remains of their way of life. If the Fire Nation seeks to end this war and build a lasting legacy, showing strength through mercy could be a powerful message."
Ozai's lips curved into a faint, humourless smile.
"Mercy," he repeated, the word almost a sneer, "An interesting perspective, Rivka. We shall see if your idealism survives the realities of war."
Rivka inclined his head again, though his mind raced. Ozai's words were dismissive, but there was a glimmer of consideration behind them—a crack in the armour, however small. This was just the beginning.
"Very well," Ozai said, turning back to the map, "You will continue to observe and learn. And when I call upon you again, Rivka, you will have more than theories to offer. I expect results."
"Yes, Fire Lord," Rivka replied, his voice calm despite the tension thrumming in his veins.
As he left the war room, Rivka's thoughts churned. The path ahead was treacherous, but he had taken the first step. Now, he just had to ensure he didn't falter.
A few days later, Rivka paced silently in his quarters, his fingers tracing the edge of the Fire Nation parchment he'd been given. He was summoned again to discuss "progress," whatever that meant. His proposals from the last meeting had been measured, strategic, and entirely ignored. Ozai's pointed lack of response still grated on him, but he had expected resistance. The Fire Lord was a man of power, not persuasion.
As always, the attendant arrived promptly to escort him, but the trek to the war room felt heavier this time. He stepped inside, and there was Ozai, already seated at the head of the map-covered table. Today, there were no other generals, no advisors. Just the Fire Lord and his soulmate, with a singular, oppressive silence between them.
Ozai gestured for Rivka to sit.
"You've had a few days to settle into your...role. Tell me, Rivka, what wisdom has the Water Tribe's wandering philosopher gleaned from his time in the palace?"
The bait was obvious, but Rivka met Ozai's sharp gaze without flinching as he took his seat.
"I've learned that change comes slowly," he said evenly, "But it's possible. Even in a place as rigid as this."
Ozai's expression didn't change, but the flicker of interest in his eyes was unmistakable, "Bold words from someone who has yet to offer me anything but theories."
"I've offered solutions," Rivka countered, "It's not my fault they've yet to be considered."
Ozai leaned forward slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
"You assume I haven't considered them, Rivka. Do you truly think the Fire Nation's position is so fragile that we must extend olive branches to those beneath us? What do you hope to accomplish with these notions of diplomacy? Peace?"
He said the word like it was a poison on his tongue.
"Peace isn't weakness," Rivka said, his voice firm, "It's the strength to look beyond victory and see what comes after. You don't just win a war, Fire Lord; you shape the world that follows it. And a world ruled by fear and fire alone won't last."
Ozai's smirk faded, replaced by a cold, assessing stare.
"And what kind of world do you imagine, Rivka? One where the Fire Nation grovels before its enemies, begging for their forgiveness?"
"No," Rivka said calmly, though his heart was pounding, "A world where the Fire Nation doesn't have to look over its shoulder at every corner of its empire. A world where its people aren't bleeding resources dries to fight rebellions in a hundred places. Strength doesn't mean killing everyone who opposes you; it means knowing when to stop fighting and start building."
Ozai's golden eyes narrowed, and the silence that followed was suffocating. When he finally spoke, his tone was low and measured.
"You speak as though you understand the cost of war. But tell me, Rivka, what has your tribe lost? What have you lost that makes you think you have the right to lecture me on the consequences of power?"
Rivka's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away.
"You're right. I know what it's like to lose everything. My home, my family, my people's future—all of it shaped by this war. That's why I'm here, Fire Lord. Because I know what's at stake if it doesn't end. And I won't let my home or any other place become ash for the sake of pride."
Ozai's gaze burned into him, and for a moment, Rivka thought he'd pushed too far. But then the Fire Lord leaned back, his expression unreadable.
"You're bold," Ozai said finally, "But boldness without results is nothing more than arrogance. If you want to prove your ideals have merit, Rivka, you'll have your chance soon enough."
Rivka frowned slightly, the weight of those words settling heavily in his chest, "What do you mean?"
Ozai rose from his seat, his hands clasped behind his back as he turned toward the map.
"You'll know when the time comes. For now, continue your studies. And remember this: the Fire Nation doesn't seek approval. It takes what it is owed."
Rivka stood as well, his shoulders squared despite the unease growing within him.
"Sometimes what's owed isn't right," he said quietly, knowing that Ozai would hear him.
Ozai paused for a fraction of a second, then strode out of the room without another word.
Rivka exhaled slowly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The Fire Lord had given nothing away, but Rivka could feel the undercurrent of something shifting, something dangerous. And he would be ready.
He had to be.
Notes:
I feel like I should note I've got messy drafts for tens of chapters and writing Ozai has never been harder lmfao this thing could well be 100,000 words and these dicks might not have once acknowledged the elephant in the room properly smh. Slow burn who, more like the slowest burn on here.
Keeps me procrastinating though so I'll take the win.
Edited 19.03.25
Chapter 10: Seeds of Dissension
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The day was unusually quiet, even for Rivka, who had carefully monitored his existence within the palace. He spent his morning buried in books again, taking notes on Fire Nation military records and colonial reports, wondering why the usual undercurrent of tension felt sharper today. It was as if the palace itself was holding its breath.
By mid-afternoon, the knock at his study door interrupted his thoughts. Rivka barely had time to set his pen down before the door opened, and a familiar man stepped inside, flanked by two attendants.
"Master Rivka," General Kaizhu said, bowing slightly, though his posture was more rigid than respectful.
Rivka stood, tilting his head curiously, "It's been a while, General Kaizhu,"
"Fire Lord Ozai has sent me to brief you," the man replied curtly.
"Brief me?" Rivka asked, his brows lifting in surprise. He gestured toward the small sitting area.
"Then I suppose you'd better have a seat."
Kaizhu hesitated for a moment, clearly unused to such informal hospitality, but he sat, his armour clinking faintly.
"You've been summoned to attend the war council tomorrow," he said without preamble.
"The Fire Lord has deemed it appropriate for you to hear the latest developments regarding the war. He expects your input."
Rivka blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the statement. He slowly sat down across from Kaizhu, his fingers lacing together.
"I'm honoured," he said carefully, "Though I suspect my presence is more about observation than actual contribution."
Kaizhu's lips twitched, not quite a smile, "That depends on you, Master Rivka. The Fire Lord values results, not sentiments. If you speak, it must be worth listening to."
Rivka leaned back slightly, studying the man, "And you're here to ensure I don't embarrass him or myself in front of the entire council."
Kaizhu inclined his head, unbothered by Rivka's bluntness.
"Precisely. Tomorrow's discussion will center on a report from General Zhao. He claims to have located the Avatar and intends to pursue him into the Northern Water Tribe's territory."
The words hit Rivka like a physical blow, though he managed to keep his expression neutral.
"The Northern Water Tribe," he echoed, "My home."
"Indeed," Kaizhu said, his tone calm but his eyes sharp. He was watching Rivka closely, "Your connection to the region is one of the reasons you're being brought into this discussion. The Fire Lord believes your insights could prove useful."
Rivka resisted the urge to laugh, "You mean he wants to see if I'll cooperate or crumble under the pressure."
Kaizhu gave him a measured look, "You misunderstand, Master Rivka. This is an opportunity, a chance to demonstrate your value to the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation." and said
"And if my value lies in opposition to General Zhao's plans?" Rivka asked, his voice deceptively light.
Kaizhu's expression didn't waver, "Then you'll need to present a compelling argument. The Fire Lord does not tolerate weakness, but he respects strength of mind and body."
Rivka exhaled slowly, his mind racing, "Tell me more about Zhao's plans. What exactly does he intend to do?"
Kaizhu hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, "Zhao's report indicates that he plans a full-scale invasion of the Northern Water Tribe. His goal is to capture, or kill, the Avatar and secure the region for the Fire Nation."
Rivka's jaw tightened, and he clasped his hands together to keep them from trembling, "A full-scale invasion," he repeated, his voice low, "Does he have any concept of what that will cost on both sides?"
Kaizhu's gaze hardened, "That's for the war council to decide. Your role is to offer insights, not to question orders."
Rivka held the general's gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly, "Thank you for the briefing, General Kaizhu. I'll be ready for tomorrow."
Kaizhu rose to his feet, his expression unreadable, "Remember, Master Rivka: the Fire Lord values strength. If you wish to make an impact, you must be unwavering in your convictions."
As the general left, Rivka sank back into his chair, his mind a storm of emotions. He had known this moment would come eventually, a moment where he would have to confront the Fire Nation's ambitions head-on. But the thought of Zhao's forces marching on his home, of his people caught in the crossfire, made his blood run cold.
He would attend the war council tomorrow, and he would speak. But he would not do so as a pawn of the Fire Nation. He would speak as a son of the Northern Water Tribe and someone who wasn't all that afraid of pissing off a room full of Firebenders. He told himself that as he tried to sleep, his soul mark reflecting the warm embers of apprehension he felt curiously enough.
Rivka decided he hated the seat left for him between, clearly, Fire Lord Ozai's seat and General Kaizhu's. Just off the head of the table, he was clearly in more of a position than he anticipated. The generals had fallen into hushed whispers until he'd taken his spot; Kaizhu had offered a tiny nudge on his elbow in what was probably a supportive gesture. All that was left was for Ozai to take the scene and show up.
When the Fire Lord appeared, the meeting quickly progressed. He didn't need an introduction and was largely silent as they proceeded regarding matters they had previously discussed.
The tension in the war room was palpable, a quiet hum of unease that even Rivka, seated just off the head of the table, could feel in his bones. The generals spoke in measured tones about strategy and logistics, but there was something they weren't saying. Something heavy lingered beneath the surface of their words, and Rivka had learned to listen for what was missing.
His fingers brushed the edge of the table, steady and deliberate. He would wait. Let them speak first, show their hands.
It wasn't until General Kaizhu, seated to his right, stiffened at an innocuous mention of Zhao's fleet that Rivka's suspicion hardened into certainty. He glanced at Ozai, whose golden gaze remained impassive, watching the conversation unfold like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Rivka's voice cut through the murmured conversation, calm yet sharp.
"You've spoken much of Zhao's fleet and its proximity to the Northern Water Tribe. What, exactly, are his intentions there?"
The room fell silent. A few of the generals exchanged glances, uneasy and uncertain. Kaizhu finally spoke, his words careful and clipped.
"General Zhao has taken it upon himself to neutralize the Northern Water Tribe as a threat to the Fire Nation."
Rivka's jaw tightened, "And by 'neutralize,' you mean what, exactly? Burn their homes? Kill their people?" His voice remained level, but an undercurrent of cold fury was beneath it.
Kaizhu hesitated, "Zhao intends to... disrupt their connection to the Moon Spirit."
The words hit Rivka like a blow to the chest. He couldn't speak for a moment, his thoughts whirling with the implications. Killing the Moon Spirit wasn't just an act of war; it was an atrocity. A desecration. And it would sever the connection of every Waterbender to their element, himself included.
He stood slowly, his movements deliberate as he leaned forward, his palms flat on the table. His voice was low and measured when he spoke, but the threat in it was unmistakable.
"You've withheld this information from me. From your Fire Lord's soulmate. Were you hoping I wouldn't notice until it was too late? Or do you simply think my people's spirits and my bending are expendable?"
A few of the generals shifted uncomfortably, their gazes darting to Ozai. The Fire Lord's expression betrayed nothing, but his eyes locked on Rivka, assessing him.
"I will make this clear," Rivka continued, his voice cutting through the silence, "I am here because I chose to be. Not because I am bound to you or because you hold any power over me. And I can leave whenever I wish."
He straightened, his hands leaving the table as he folded them behind his back in a display of composure that only underscored his growing fury.
"If General Zhao thinks he can destroy my homeland and desecrate the Moon Spirit without consequence, he is gravely mistaken. I will go to the Northern Water Tribe myself and stop him by any means necessary."
A murmur rippled through the room, quickly silenced as Ozai raised a hand, "And if I do not permit it?" the Fire Lord asked, calm but edged with warning.
Rivka met his gaze without flinching, "Then I will leave anyway. You know as well as I do that you cannot stop me—not here, not if I reach the water."
For a moment, the room was heavy with unspoken truths. Rivka held Ozai's gaze, his resolve unyielding.
Finally, Ozai leaned back in his seat, his fingers steepled.
"Very well," he said, his voice cold, "You will go, but understand this, Rivka: if you fail to bring Zhao to heel, your people will face the full might of the Fire Nation."
Rivka inclined his head, his expression unreadable.
"Understood. But know this, Fire Lord Ozai, if Zhao lays a single hand on the Moon Spirit, it will not just be the Northern Water Tribe that suffers. The spirits will ensure that all nations pay the price, including yours."
With that, he turned and strode from the room, the generals parting to let him pass. He did not look back. There was no need. His path was clear. He would protect his home, his people, and the spirits, even if it meant tearing Zhao's fleet apart with his own hands.
The tension from the war council still lingered in Rivka's mind as he sat alone in his study, the pages he'd furiously written spread haphazardly across the desk. His tea sat untouched amidst the storm of thoughts raging within him. His mind churned over Zhao's audacity, the Fire Nation's hubris, and the delicate threads of diplomacy he was trying to weave before they snapped entirely.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He didn't bother turning, his tone clipped, "Enter."
The door opened with an audible creak, and Rivka's eyes flicked to the shadow that stretched across the room. Fire Lord Ozai stepped inside, his imposing figure framed by the dim light of the flickering lanterns.
"I didn't expect you to visit me personally," Rivka said dryly, leaning back in his chair and gesturing half-heartedly to the scattered pages, "I assumed you'd send General Kaizhu or some other emissary to deliver your orders."
Ozai ignored the jab, stepping further into the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
"You are leaving for the Northern Water Tribe."
It wasn't a question.
"I'm aware," Rivka replied evenly, "If I don't, Zhao's idiocy will cost all of us dearly. The spirits don't take kindly to being slaughtered."
Ozai's gaze lingered on the papers, then returned to Rivka.
"You'll be escorted by a small team of Firebenders. They will ensure you reach the Northern Water Tribe in time to intercept Zhao."
Rivka snorted, shaking his head, "A noble gesture, Fire Lord, but unnecessary. No escort will save me if I can't outrun him on my own terms."
"This is not up for debate," Ozai said sharply, "They will accompany you, not as protection, but as my agents. Zhao is ambitious and reckless, but he is still one of my commanders. His actions reflect on me, and I will not have my authority undermined."
Rivka regarded Ozai for a long moment, his eyes narrowing.
"Fine. But tell me this: What am I allowed to do? What are my boundaries if I must stop Zhao, and I will? Can I act as a diplomat, or am I simply a tool to be used until this crisis is over?"
Ozai stepped closer, his tone measured but laced with an undercurrent of menace.
"You tread a dangerous line, Rivka. Your presence in the Northern Water Tribe is a delicate matter. What you say and do will determine not only your standing here but the future of your homeland."
Rivka leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he met Ozai's gaze with unflinching resolve.
"Then let me make this clear: If I stop Zhao, prevent an assault on my people, and keep the spirits from seeking retribution, I will act in the interest of diplomacy. I will not denounce the Avatar, nor will I support him. Should we cross paths, my dealings with him will be formal, nothing more. I'll give him one warning, whatever I deem appropriate. But beyond that, I will neither aid nor hinder him."
Ozai's expression darkened, but he didn't interrupt.
"This is the only way to navigate the situation without betraying either nation," Rivka continued, "You don't want me as an enemy, Ozai. And I would rather not become one."
The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between them like the fragile thread Rivka was attempting to walk. Finally, Ozai nodded, his voice a low rumble.
"We will revisit this conversation when you return. For now, you have my permission to act as you've proposed. But do not mistake my agreement for leniency, Rivka. Your actions will be watched."
Rivka smirked faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly, "Wouldn't expect anything less."
Ozai turned to leave, pausing at the door.
"Your escort will meet you in the courtyard. You depart within the hour."
Rivka inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment as he began gathering his things.
The courtyard was quiet when Rivka arrived, save for the distant hum of activity from the palace beyond. Five Firebenders stood in formation, their armour gleaming in the moonlight. One of them stepped forward and offered a curt bow as he approached.
"I am Master Ren. We are honoured to serve as your escort," he said, his voice steady and formal.
Rivka took them in, noting their disciplined stances and sharp gazes.
"Honoured, huh?" he said, his tone light but edged with sarcasm, "We'll see if you still feel that way by the time we reach the Northern Water Tribe."
The group exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing as Rivka adjusted the strap of his bag and gestured toward the ship waiting in the distance.
"Let's go. We have a spirit to save and a general to stop."
Without waiting for a response, Rivka strode toward the ship, his thoughts already turning to the challenges ahead. This was a gamble, a dangerous one. But if it meant saving his people and their connection to the spirits, it was a gamble he was willing to take.
Notes:
Edited 19.03.25
Chapter 11: The Northern Water Tribe
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The voyage began under a veil of tension. Rivka could feel the unspoken scepticism radiating from the Firebenders tasked to accompany him. Their interactions were minimal for the first two days, with formal exchanges and curt nods. Rivka, however, was not one to let a strained atmosphere linger. It wasn't until the third day that he started studying the ship itself. Its sturdy design was meant for battle but relied heavily on Firebending and coal-based propulsion. While the Firebenders rotated in shifts to maintain their speed, Rivka began observing the patterns of the ocean currents. By the fifth day, he'd formed a plan.
That evening, Rivka approached Master Ren on the deck as the sun dipped below the horizon.
"Master Ren," he started, leaning casually against the ship's rail, "How fast would you say this ship could go if we weren't relying solely on coal and Firebending?"
Ren raised an eyebrow, "The ship's design doesn't account for any other propulsion methods-"
With a small smirk, Rivka interrupted, "You've got one Waterbender aboard."
Ren's expression flickered with curiosity, "You think you can speed us up?"
"I don't think. I know," Rivka pushed off the railing, gesturing toward the water below, "The currents we're passing through are naturally strong right now. With a little bending, I can enhance their pull and redirect them to work in our favour. If we coordinate, we could cut our travel time by nearly half."
Ren hesitated, clearly weighing the potential benefits against the unorthodox nature of Rivka's proposal. After a moment, he gave a sharp nod, "Do it."
Over the next few days, Rivka worked tirelessly to manipulate the water beneath the ship. At first, his efforts disrupted the Firebenders' rhythm, their propulsion clashing with the sudden surges of current. But Rivka was patient, communicating his adjustments to Ren and the crew until their movements synchronized. The ship began to glide faster, slicing through the ocean with an efficiency that surprised even the seasoned sailors helping man the ship.
By the fifth day, they were well ahead of schedule. Rivka allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction, standing at the prow of the ship and feeling the wind whip through his hair. He'd proven his worth, at least in this regard. But there was still much to do. Later that evening, Rivka stumbled upon the Firebenders training on the deck. They moved with precision, their flames cutting through the dark like fleeting stars. Rivka lingered at the edge of the deck, watching silently until one of them noticed him.
"Something you need, Master Rivka?" Ren asked, lowering his stance but keeping his tone respectful.
Rivka stepped forward with his arms crossed, stating, "I’m just observing, but I couldn't help but notice... all of you are quite impressive," tilting his head with a slight grin on his lips, "For Firebenders."
Ren's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement, "You've got something to say, don't you?"
"Only this," Rivka replied, unfolding his arms, "If we're going to fight together, whether it's General Zhao's fleet or something worse, we need to know how to work alongside each other. Otherwise, we'll clash. You've seen it before: fire and water don't mix easily, but if we can figure it out here, we might just stand a chance."
Ren exchanged a glance with the others, then turned back to Rivka, "What are you proposing?"
"A little cross-training," Rivka said simply, "I'll show you how to defend against Waterbenders, and you show me how to avoid getting roasted alive. We practice together and figure out how to complement each other's strengths. What do you say?"
The sessions began awkwardly. The Firebenders were hesitant, their movements stiff, as they adjusted to the unfamiliar rhythm of working with a Waterbender. Rivka, for his part, was patient but firm. He pointed out weaknesses and offered solutions without sugarcoating his critiques.
Over time, the awkwardness gave way to camaraderie. Rivka learned their names - Master Ren, Huo, Lei, Jin, and Lin - and began to understand their individual styles. In turn, they started to trust him, seeing not just a Waterbender but a capable warrior with a sharp mind and a surprising sense of humour.
By the eighth day, their training sessions had become a highlight of the journey. They sparred on the deck, their movements fluid and instinctive as fire and water collided in controlled bursts. Rivka pushed them to think beyond their element, encouraging creativity and adaptability.
As they neared Zhao's fleet, the tension returned, but it was underpinned by a new sense of unity. Ren approached Rivka on the deck, his expression serious, "You've earned our respect, Rivka. Whatever happens when we face Zhao, we'll follow your lead."
Rivka inclined his head, the faintest flicker of relief crossing his features, "I'll hold you to that," he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
The Northern Water Tribe was close now, its icy walls just visible on the horizon. Rivka's heart tightened as he thought of what lay ahead - the spirits, his people, the danger Zhao posed. But as he stood with his newfound allies, he allowed himself a sliver of hope.
They might just pull this off.
They were welcomed aboard after stopping Zhao's fleet with their appearance and a letter that had arrived in advance. Rivka thought, without much gradure, that General Zhao was a prick. The two were going to get into disagreement after disagreement as soon as Rivka stood on the ship. General Iroh, Ozai's older brother, seemed to be a wonderful man who had taken to asking Rivka random questions of trivial matters even before the proper announcement to the people present of Rivka's status.
To the Waterbender's annoyance, Zhao ordered that no one know of his connection to the Fire Lord, and as it was his ship and in front of Rivka's team, he allowed such a thing to happen. That meant he held no current weight as he was in a worse position to talk sense into a stupid military man than he thought when he boarded. He was constantly ignored in the coming hours, pushed to the side and very nearly locked in a closet to keep him out of the General's way. It was a blessing that Iroh was interested in playing funny games, which helped to sabotage Zhao's plans. Around this time, Rivka noticed the feedback from his soul mark again.
He was agitated and holding a hand to his chest in a break room, looking out over his home, when he suddenly saw stars with a booming pain in the back of his head. Rivka didn't get more than a moment's notice before he dropped like a rock and fell to the floor.
Rivka was slow to wake after the event, even slower to get Master Ren to help him figure out what was going on, as his team of Firebenders dutifully protected him until he woke up. Once they'd pieced together Zhao had someone knock him out to start the invasion on the Northern Water Tribe, Rivka could barely keep himself in check he was that furious. He was certain his soul mark was reflecting all of this, and Ozai would have time if he was tuned in.
"Any objections to putting General Zhao on his ass, halting the invasion and starting diplomatic talks here within the hour?" Rivka glanced at his team.
"None at all," Ren saluted, which sparked a bit of a happy notion in Rivka.
"Then let's go, two with me and the other three to find the nearest colonel and get them to withdraw to a front immediately."
"How do you expect to get the Water Tribe to listen?" Ren quickly asked as they ran down to the ramps.
"By fucking Waterbending," Rivka growled as he connected to the water below them.
In his Fire Nation maroons and golds, Rivka and his team tore through the gate as he made walls of ice separating the sides where he went.
"Where is General Zhao?!" Rivka called towards Firebenders.
They awkwardly pointed towards a room Rivka knew too well. He was going to attack the spirit, and if the ice cracking under his feet didn't scare off any attacks, Waterbending and riding a wave towards the spirit sanctuary was one way to do it.
The warriors hesitated, torn between the heat of battle and the unfamiliar Waterbender garbed in Fire Nation colours. Two of Rivka's Firebender guards peeled off, drawing their weapons to help reinforce his call for a truce, their movements synchronized after weeks of training together.
Rivka didn't stop to see if his orders were followed. He pushed past the fray, ice crunching beneath his boots as he raced toward the spirit sanctuary. His chest burned with exertion, his breaths coming out in visible puffs in the cold air. He felt the connection to his bending falter, his instincts telling him something was wrong.
By the time he reached the sanctuary, the sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. Zhao stood at the edge of the sacred pool, the white koi, the Moon Spirit, held triumphantly over his head. The crimson hue of the moon reflected in the waters below, staining the snow and ice with its unnatural glow. The moment the moon shifted, Rivka felt his power slip from him entirely. It was as though a piece of his very being had been torn away. His knees buckled momentarily, but he pushed forward, stumbling into the sanctuary as he shouted.
"Zhao!"
The general turned, his smirk widening at the sight of Rivka,
"Ah, the Fire Nation's Waterbender. Come to witness history?" He gestured at the koi in his hands, "This is the moment where the Fire Nation ensures its ultimate victory. The Water Tribe's bending will be nothing more than a legend."
Rivka clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he advanced, "You're a fool, Zhao. Killing the Moon Spirit won't just weaken the Water Tribe; it will unbalance the entire world. You're courting destruction."
Zhao chuckled, his arrogance unshaken, "Spare me the lectures. I will be remembered as a hero who brought the Fire Nation its greatest triumph."
Before Rivka could respond, a blur of white fur and movement caught his eye. Appa landed nearby, and Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Yue dismounted, their expressions mirroring Rivka's horror.
"Stop this, Zhao!" Aang called out, his voice desperate, "You don't understand what you're doing!"
Zhao scoffed, turning to Aang, "Oh, I understand perfectly. You should thank me. By removing this spirit, I'm ensuring you'll never interfere with the Fire Nation again."
The sanctuary fell silent as a new figure entered. General Iroh's dark and unyielding expression approached with a deliberate calm that sent a chill through everyone present. He glanced briefly at Rivka, acknowledging their shared outrage, before focusing on Zhao.
"You do not know what you are tampering with," Iroh said, his voice like steel, "Release that spirit now, or I will unleash on you tenfold whatever harm you cause."
Zhao hesitated for the first time, Iroh's threat clearly rattling him, but his defiance flared once more, and he tightened his grip on the koi.
Rivka stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding, "Zhao, if you take another step toward destruction, I will ensure you never leave this tribe alive. Spirit or no spirit, you've overstepped your place."
Zhao sneered at Rivka, "Bold words from a Waterbender who can no longer bend."
Rivka straightened his piercing gaze, meeting Zhao's, "I don't need to bend to deal with someone as shortsighted as you."
The standoff thickened, the tension palpable. Rivka could feel the burning absence of his bending, but his conviction didn't waver. A sudden movement broke the moment; Momo darted through the air, clawing at Zhao's face and disrupting his grip on the koi. Zhao staggered, swatting at the lemur as chaos erupted around them.
Aang surged forward, his focus entirely on the koi, while Rivka and Iroh moved in tandem, blocking Zhao's attempts to regain control. Iroh's strikes were precise and unrelenting, while Rivka, though unable to bend, used his surroundings with brutal efficiency, tripping Zhao and knocking him off balance.
The sanctuary remained a scene of escalating tension, the air thick with anticipation. Though rattled by the combined presence of Rivka and Iroh, Zhao still clung to his delusions of grandeur. His grip on the koi tightened as if sheer force would cement his place in history.
"Enough of this," Zhao growled, his voice laced with fury. Glancing between the defiant faces of Iroh, Rivka, and Aang, he said, "You think you can lecture me or intimidate me? I am the future of the Fire Nation!"
Iroh's eyes narrowed, his posture coiled like a tiger ready to pounce. Rivka stepped closer, ignoring the dull ache in his chest where his connection to bending should have been.
"Zhao," Rivka said, his tone cutting, "You've lost. Release the spirit. Stop this madness before it's too late."
For a moment, Zhao hesitated, his arrogance clashing with self-preservation. His gaze flickered to Iroh, whose calm demeanour belied the storm of power radiating from him. Reluctantly, Zhao moved to return the koi to the water, but as the spirit slipped from his grasp into the sanctuary's pond, something inside Zhao snapped. With a roar of rage, he unleashed a blast of fire directly at the koi, his flames roaring with destructive intent.
"No!" Rivka shouted, moving before thought could catch him.
His body twisted as he dove between the flames and the koi, his arms outstretched to shield the spirit. The fire hit him square in the forearm, searing through his clothing and skin with an intensity that drew a guttural cry from his throat. He redirected the force of the flames as best he could, but he wasn't a Firebender; only his instinct and years of battle-hardened training kept the koi from being caught in the swarm of flame. Rivka tore half of his uniform off as he went down, making sure the melting material was pulled away from his burn as soon as he could.
In the aftermath, the white koi shimmered faintly, its movements sluggish and weak. The moon in the sky dimmed further but did not vanish entirely, its light flickering as though struggling to hold on.
Rivka collapsed to one knee, his arm blistering and raw. Each breath came with a sharp, burning pain. His soul mark was on show as his team snapped into a protective formation, and Ren took to squatting beside him. Rivka gritted his teeth, refusing to succumb, his eyes locked on Zhao.
"You dare..." Rivka spat, his voice rasping with agony, "You dare to attack what you don't even comprehend."
Iroh's fury ignited, literal flames swirling around his hands. True to his word, the master Firebender unleashed a torrent of fire upon Zhao and his guards. The soldiers fell quickly, overpowered and unable to match Iroh's skill.
Zhao staggered back, panic finally breaking through his hubris. He glanced at the injured Rivka, who still knelt defiantly, and at Iroh, whose blazing power promised no mercy. Zhao's survival instincts took over, and he turned on his heel, fleeing the sanctuary in the chaos. To Rivka's joy, Huo and Lei took off after the bastard while Ren stayed with him.
Iroh made no move to chase him, his focus shifting to Rivka. He extinguished his flames and knelt by the Waterbender, his expression softening.
"Rivka," Iroh said, his voice calm but edged with concern, "You've done enough."
Rivka's breath hitched as he looked at the koi, still glowing faintly but clearly injured. He nodded weakly.
"The spirit... it's alive. The Fire Nation will stand down?"
As Iroh nodded, Aang, Katara, and the others rushed to their side; the sanctuary settled into an uneasy silence. The moon's light grew steadier, but its diminished glow left the sky darker than it should have been.
Sokka knelt beside Rivka, his expression tight with worry, "We need to get you help. That burn-"
"Later," Rivka interrupted, his voice still firm despite his condition. His eyes moved to Aang, "The spirit isn't whole. The balance hasn't been restored yet. Can you fix this, Aang?"
Aang nodded, his determination hardening as he turned to the koi. Yue stepped forward, her expression sombre, as she began to speak of her connection to the Moon Spirit.
As the group prepared to take the next steps to restore balance, Rivka slumped back against the icy floor, his hand instinctively clutching around his wounded arm. Despite the pain, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. His connection to the spirits hummed at the proximity, likely due to him having a soul mark. Speaking of which, it was a passive flurry of emotions and feelings, likely due to his anxiety and pain.
"I'd help, Princess," Rivka looked to Yue, who was silently watching, "But something tells me the only thing that will happen is what the spirits gifted you will mostly go back to them. I believe you will survive, but you may be weak."
Rivka didn't know what influenced his opinion on the matter, but the black koi fish swimming in circles around the wounded white one seemed to look at him. Spirit things and all that, he supposed as he jolted in pain.
"General Iroh," Rivka addressed quietly as the teens went about their business, "Would you be able to help me negotiate with Chief Arnook?"
"Of course, but are you really in any condition to be talking about politics?" Iroh had his brows raised.
"I need to be, Katara. Would you go grab us a healer and the Chief?" Rivka butted into the kid's conversation, "I believe what Princess Yue intends to do will require one in the aftermath."
"I can heal her and you, Rivka," Katara quietly responded, "I think we'll need a catch-up before we get much further than that."
"I suppose you are correct," Rivka conceded with a tired smile.
Notes:
Edited 19.03.25
Chapter 12: The Weight of Words
Chapter Text
Rivka was jolted from a doze he hadn't known he'd slipped into; he was about to sit up when he realised his hand was dipped into the water from the spirit's pond. Horrified, he was about to rip his hand out when Yue's voice stopped him.
"They're okay with it; the water has healing properties they'd like to offer you," Yue smiled, "I managed to help the Moon Spirit heal, although we exist very closely now. Thank you."
Rivka must have stayed silent a moment too long or looked a bit too confused because Iroh gave him a friendly light clap on the shoulder.
"I'd say Master Rivka is grateful for the blessing," the older man smiled softly, "It isn't every day that a Waterbender representing the Fire Nation has to go between forces to save a spirit."
"Between Ren and Iroh, we've got a loose grasp on your situation," Aang smiled as he approached, "Chief Arnook has given us time to let you collect your thoughts, but not much longer than that."
"Spare me," Rivka huffed with a forced smile, "Although diplomacy while half-sleep may be my speciality."
"Huo, Lei, Jin, and Lin have successfully captured General Zhao," Ren also spoke up somewhere behind Iroh, "We've returned forces to the ships to await further instruction, and the Water Tribe has allowed us to wait to see where these discussions go."
"Music to my ears," Rivka nodded as he looked back towards the water.
The black koi fish, the Ocean Spirit Tui, had broken its circular formation to nudge his finger. Without much more than the instinct the action caused, Rivka started to bend some of their water up to cover his whole forearm, which looked like a red-blistered mess of a limb. The water felt soothing and painful all in one gasp as it started to glow and took on healing properties.
"Blessed again," Rivka softly murmured as people started to come and go from the space.
Within seconds, the spirits healed the worst of his burn and transformed it into scarred tissue. Katara took it from there and came over to examine it.
"It looks like they've increased the healing speed," she said in awe, "It will still scar, but it won't be as painful as it could be. It's probably still tender and will bother you quite a bit, but it won't be at risk of infection or getting worse."
"The spirits are too kind," Rivka softly spoke as he took Iroh's offered hand up.
"Thank you," he acknowledged, bowing to the koi with reverence, "And wish me luck."
Rivka cracked a smile at his joke, turning to face the rest of the people in the room, "Shall we meet with Chief Arnook?"
The groups migrated out of the spirit sanctuary towards the awaiting crowd of Water Tribe warriors and political heads.
As Rivka, Iroh, and Ren entered the grand hall of the Northern Water Tribe, the atmosphere was tense. Rows of the tribesmen stood at attention, their gazes sharp and questioning. At the far end, Chief Arnook sat upon an ornate seat of carved ice, flanked by Yue and a council of advisors. The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the soft crunch of boots against the icy floor.
Rivka paused briefly, his eyes scanning the faces of the people he once called kin. Some stared at him with recognition, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Others, especially the younger warriors, only saw the Fire Nation insignia on his attire and tightened their grips on their weapons.
"I never thought I'd see the day you'd return, Rivka," Arnook said, his voice even but carrying a weight of unspoken emotion, "And certainly not in Fire Nation colours."
Rivka stepped forward, his expression calm though his heart pounded, "Chief Arnook," he began, his tone steady but lacking formality, "I know how this looks. I know how you must feel seeing me like this. But I'm here to stop a war, not start one."
"Easy words to say," one of the council elders interjected, his brow furrowed, "But why should we believe you, Rivka? You come wearing the emblem of our enemy, yet you expect us to trust your intentions?"
Before Rivka could respond, Aang stepped forward, his voice breaking through the tension.
"Because he's telling the truth. I've fought beside Rivka, and he's risked everything to save lives, Water Tribe lives and the Moon Spirit's life. None of us would be standing here now if it weren't for him."
Yue nodded in agreement, her voice calm but commanding, "He fought for us when he didn't have to. He stood against Zhao, even when it meant putting himself at risk. The spirits chose him, and I believe that speaks louder than any uniform he wears."
Arnook's expression softened slightly as he glanced at Yue, though the weight of his authority remained, "The spirits chose him, you say?"
Yue gestured toward Rivka, her gaze steady, "He bears a soulmark, one tied to the balance between sun and moon. The spirits guided him to act, and he did so without hesitation. I believe that is proof enough of his intentions."
The whispers in the room intensified, prompting Arnook to raise a hand for quiet. His gaze locked on Rivka, "So, your soulmark activated, did it?"
Rivka sighed softly and slightly parted his robe at the collar, revealing the intricate moon mark etched into his skin. It glowed faintly under the light of the moon filtering through the ice above, and an audible gasp rippled through the room.
"This mark ties me to someone," Rivka said, his voice quieter now, "Someone who... complicates everything, but it also means I've been given a role to play. Not for the Fire Nation. Not even for the Water Tribes. For balance."
Arnook's gaze lingered on the mark, then lifted to meet Rivka's eyes, "And this role of yours, does it include wearing the colours of our enemy?"
"It includes doing whatever it takes to stop this war," Rivka replied firmly, "If that means working from within the Fire Nation, so be it. If that means standing here now, facing the people I left behind, then I'll do that too."
Iroh stepped forward, his calm presence adding weight to Rivka's words, "Chief Arnook, I can personally vouch for Rivka's integrity. He has fought tirelessly to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, even within the Fire Nation. His actions speak for themselves."
"And Zhao?" Arnook asked, his tone sharp.
"Captured," Ren answered, stepping forward, "Under Rivka's orders. He's being held on our ships, awaiting your decision on what justice should look like."
Arnook raised his hand again, silencing the murmurs that threatened to erupt into full-blown debate. His gaze remained locked on Rivka, his expression unreadable.
"You've given me much to consider," he said slowly, "But this is not a matter to be resolved here in the eyes of all."
He rose from his seat, his presence commanding, "We will continue this discussion privately. Rivka, General Iroh, Master Ren, Avatar Aang, and your companions, follow me. Yue, you as well."
The Chief turned and walked toward a side passage that led deeper into the palace. The warriors standing guard parted silently to allow the group to pass, their expressions a mixture of scepticism and curiosity.
The private chamber was a stark contrast to the smaller and more intimate grand hall. Its central table was carved from ice, and seating was made from furs and driftwood. The air felt warmer here, and the walls glowed faintly from embedded crystals. Arnook gestured for everyone to take a seat.
Once the doors were shut, the tension in the room seemed to lift slightly. Arnook settled into his seat, Yue beside him. Aang and his friends took seats opposite Iroh, Ren, and Rivka. Rivka, however, remained standing for a moment as if gathering his thoughts.
"Alright, Rivka," Arnook said, his voice calmer but still firm, "You've earned this audience, but I need to understand what you hope to achieve here. You claim to represent balance, but you stand between two warring nations. What is your true goal?"
Rivka exhaled slowly, lowering himself into a chair beside Iroh. His posture was relaxed, but the weight of the moment pressed on him.
"My goal, Chief Arnook, is to stop this war. The Fire Nation is powerful, but it's stretched thin. The Water Tribes have held their own, but the cost has been devastating. This war doesn't end without talks. That's why I'm here."
Iroh nodded in agreement, "The Fire Nation has its internal conflicts. Those who seek power above all have driven us to the brink of ruin. Zhao's capture is only the first step in halting that destructive momentum."
"Diplomacy?" Sokka scoffed, his arms crossed, "With the Fire Nation? That's rich, considering what they've done to our people."
"Sokka," Katara said softly, placing a hand on his arm, "Rivka's not asking us to trust the Fire Nation; he's asking us to trust him."
Sokka frowned but didn't argue further. Rivka turned his gaze to the Chief and said, "I know it's not easy to trust me, but establishing a ceasefire, even temporarily, gives us the chance to save lives. Both sides need time to regroup and reconsider their priorities."
"And what guarantees do we have that the Fire Nation won't use that time to strengthen their forces?" Arnook asked.
"You have me," Rivka said simply, "I'm not just here to negotiate. I'm here to hold them accountable."
Arnook studied him for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair, "There's more to this than you're saying. The spirits, the soulmark... it's clear they've chosen you for something greater, but I need to know the truth, Rivka. What is going on?"
The room grew still. Aang and Yue exchanged a glance, Katara frowned in confusion, and Sokka raised an eyebrow. Iroh and Ren remained quiet, their expressions carefully neutral. Rivka hesitated, his hand unconsciously brushing against the fabric of his tunic. Finally, he sighed and stood, unfastening the top of his outer robe.
"I didn't want to reveal this until the right time," he said quietly.
He pulled the tunic down slightly, exposing the intricate soul mark on his chest. The moon and sun motif was more vivid here, glowing faintly as if responding to the moonlight outside. Being closer to it made it easier for the group to see all of it.
Arnook's eyes widened as realization dawned on him, "Rivka..."
"It's Fire Lord Ozai," Rivka admitted, his voice steady but filled with a quiet resignation, "My soulmark ties me to the man who continued this war. The spirits have tethered me to him in their infinite wisdom or cruelty. I don't understand why. All I know is that I have to try to make this connection mean something."
The shock in the room was palpable. Sokka let out a disbelieving laugh, "You're kidding, right? The Fire Lord Ozai? That guy?"
"Unfortunately, no," Rivka said with a faint, humourless smile, "It's not exactly something I'm thrilled about right now."
Arnook's expression shifted from shock to something softer, though still guarded, "The spirits have burdened you with an impossible task. And yet, you've stood here, willing to face the consequences."
"That's all I can do," Rivka said, "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking for time to heal, think, and determine the next step."
Arnook nodded slowly, "You'll have it. But understand this, Rivka: trust is not given lightly here. You've earned a chance to prove yourself. Tomorrow, we'll reconvene. For now, rest and prepare. We'll discuss the next steps with clear minds."
"Thank you, Chief," Rivka said, bowing his head in respect.
As the group began to disperse, Iroh placed a hand on Rivka's shoulder and said, "Rest is wise. You've done more than enough for one day."
Rivka nodded, exhaustion finally catching up to him, "Let's hope tomorrow brings answers."
The quiet of the Fire Nation ship was a stark contrast to the tension Rivka had felt all day. The steady lap of waves against the hull and the occasional creak of the ship's frame was almost soothing. He had been given a modest cabin, simple but comfortable enough. After checking the bandages on his arm and confirming that the spirits' healing held steady, Rivka finally allowed himself to lie down.
Sleep, however, was elusive. He was still replaying the day's events in his mind when a faint sound broke through the ship's stillness. It was subtle at first, a soft scraping noise like footsteps deliberately muffled. Rivka frowned, sitting up slightly, but before he could react, a surge of icy water snaked up from the floor, freezing him in place.
"Well, well," a voice hissed in the dim light, "The great Rivka, a betrayer of his people, reduced to lying in a Fire Nation bed."
The speaker stepped into view. He was a young Water Tribe man, maybe in his early twenties, flanked by two others. Their faces were painted with streaks of white and blue, and they carried an air of barely contained anger.
Rivka raised an eyebrow, his calm demeanour unshaken. "I'd applaud the theatrics if I weren't currently stuck to my bed. But I have to ask, what exactly do you hope to accomplish here?"
"You don't get to ask questions, traitor," the leader spat, "You abandoned us. Now you work with them. You don't deserve to call yourself one of us."
Rivka tilted his head slightly, his voice level, "Abandoned you? I've spent my life helping our people. Just because I'm willing to see more than one side doesn't make me a traitor."
One of the others growled, stepping closer, "You think we're going to let you walk out of here like a hero? You're a disgrace!"
Rivka sighed, his breath misting in the cool air, "You've made your point. Now, if we're done playing games..." He slightly flexed his fingers, and the ice binding him cracked audibly. The three young men froze, their expressions shifting from defiance to alarm.
With a flick of his wrist, Rivka bent the ice, binding him into harmless shards that fell to the floor. He stood, his expression almost amused, "You didn't think a Waterbender couldn't escape his own element, did you?"
The leader stepped back, panic flickering in his eyes, "Stay back-"
"I'm not going to hurt you," Rivka interrupted, his tone calm but firm, "But you are going to think about what you're doing. Anger won't save our people. It'll only destroy us."
With another wave of his hand, Rivka bent a stream of water from the nearby basin, freezing it into makeshift cuffs around the trio's wrists. He guided them toward the door, "Let's take a walk."
At the ship's perimeter, Rivka handed the group over to the Water Tribe guards stationed on the wall, offering a brief explanation, "These three decided to express their discontent in... less-than-diplomatic ways. Please make sure they stay out of trouble for the night."
The guards exchanged glances but nodded, escorting the group away. Rivka turned back toward his cabin, muttering under his breath, "At least they waited until after I got a few hours of rest."
The following morning, Rivka woke early; the previous night's events were already a distant memory. After freshening up and checking the state of his arm, he made his way to the galley, where the warm, inviting aroma of tea greeted him.
Iroh was already seated at a small table, a delicate porcelain teapot steaming in front of him. He smiled warmly as Rivka approached, "Ah, Master Rivka! A morning without tea is a morning wasted. Please, join me."
Rivka sank into the chair opposite him, accepting the cup Iroh poured, "Thank you, General. I could use something calming."
Iroh chuckled knowingly, "An eventful night, I presume?"
"Let's just say not everyone is thrilled with my presence," Rivka said dryly, taking a sip of the fragrant brew, "But no harm done."
"Good, good," Iroh nodded thoughtfully. Now, onto more pressing matters. Have you considered how we might approach today's discussions with Chief Arnook?"
Rivka set his cup down, leaning back slightly, "I have, but I'd like to hear your thoughts first. You've navigated Fire Nation politics longer than I've been alive."
Iroh smiled modestly. "Perhaps. But the Northern Water Tribe is a unique challenge. They value tradition, strength, and respect for their culture. I believe any offer we make must reflect an understanding of that."
Rivka nodded, "Agreed. I propose a mutual withdrawal of troops from key conflict zones, starting with the Arctic waters. It would show goodwill and give both sides breathing room."
Iroh stroked his beard thoughtfully, "A wise suggestion. But we must also address reparations, or at least assistance, for the damage caused by Fire Nation forces. That will be a delicate topic."
"Delicate but necessary," Rivka agreed, "Could we offer resources? Medical supplies and provisions for rebuilding. It's not much, but it's a start."
Iroh's eyes twinkled with approval, "And the long term?"
"Long term," Rivka said, his tone serious, "We need to establish channels for dialogue. We should have regular meetings between leaders, perhaps with neutral mediators like the Avatar or trusted spiritual figures."
Iroh nodded again, his expression quiet and proud.
"You have a gift for this, Rivka. Your soulmark may complicate matters, but it also uniquely positions you to bridge these divides."
Chapter 13: Echoes in the Flame
Notes:
Double update today because there's been a sudden rise in interactions lol; how ya'll going? I'll aim to pop out a new chapter every Friday/Saturday but that Uni-work-life balance is hard ;')
*21.03.25
Chapter Text
The council chamber felt heavy, and tension surrounded every word spoken. The members of the Water Tribe council, led by Chief Arnook, sat across from Rivka, Iroh, and Ren, their expressions a mixture of scepticism and faint curiosity. Yue, Aang, Katara, and Sokka watched silently from the side, their presence a reminder of the larger stakes at play.
Rivka knew the odds were stacked against him. Without full backing from the Fire Nation, he had little to offer beyond promises and his determination. But determination, he thought, was what had brought him here and what he hoped would make the difference.
Chief Arnook opened the meeting, his tone calm but firm, "Rivka, you've requested this council to propose terms for peace. I want to believe in your intentions, but you must understand how difficult that is after what your nation has done."
Rivka nodded, "I do understand, Chief Arnook, and I'll be honest: I don't have the full support of the Fire Nation leadership behind me. Fire Lord Ozai is unlikely to approve sending resources or reparations. But I'm not here to ask for miracles. I'm here to build a foundation.".
One of the council elders frowned, "A foundation built on what? What exactly are you proposing if you can't offer reparations or guarantees?"
Rivka leaned forward, his voice steady but weighted with emotion, "I'm proposing a truce. A ceasefire. Both sides lay down arms, stop the bloodshed, and create space for dialogue. I know that doesn't heal the wounds or rebuild what's been lost, but it's a first step."
The elder snorted, "Easy for you to say, sitting here under our protection. What incentive does the Fire Nation have to honour such a truce?"
Iroh interjected, his voice calm but commanding, "The Fire Nation is not as invincible as it seems. Its resources are stretched thin, and its soldiers are weary. A prolonged war benefits no one, least of all, the Fire Nation. Rivka's proposal is not just idealistic; it is practical."
Arnook's gaze turned sharp, "And what about you, Rivka? You've lived among us. You know the pain this war has caused. What makes you think a truce will mean anything without tangible reparations?"
Rivka's throat tightened, but he refused to back down, "I know how much has been lost, Chief Arnook. I've felt it myself. My family and my friends were taken from me through Fire Nation raids. I'm here not because I agreed with their conquest but because I believed I could make a difference from the inside."
He paused, his voice softening, "I know I can't erase the past, but I can help shape the future. A truce is only the beginning. With time, I can work to sway the Fire Nation war council to plant the seeds of change. But that change starts here, with us."
Arnook's expression remained unreadable, but Yue glanced at Rivka, her face soft with understanding.
"You're asking for patience," Arnook said slowly, "And patience is not something a tribe at war has in abundance."
Another council member spoke up, his tone sceptical, "Even if we agree to a truce, what assurance do we have that your Fire Lord won't see it as an opportunity to regroup and strike harder?"
Ren stepped forward, his presence more subdued than Iroh's but no less committed, "I don't represent the Fire Lord. I represent my unit and only my unit. We have fought under Rivka's command because we came to believe in what he stands for. If a truce is agreed upon, we'll enforce it on our side, no matter the cost."
The elder raised an eyebrow, "A unit of five soldiers? That's your guarantee?"
Rivka smiled faintly, though the weight in his voice remained, "No, that's our commitment. I can't promise you the Fire Lord's compliance, but I can promise you mine, and I can promise to fight for this truce, whether against the Water Tribes or my own people."
Arnook studied Rivka for a long moment, then glanced at Iroh, "And you, General? Do you share Rivka's vision?"
Iroh inclined his head, "I do. The war has taken its toll on all of us. I believe Rivka represents a path forward that prioritizes balance over conquest."
Arnook sighed, his gaze flicking between his council and Rivka.
"A truce is not an easy thing to ask for. There will be those among us who see it as a weakness. But I also see the truth in your words, Rivka. This war cannot go on forever."
He leaned forward, his voice carrying the weight of his authority, "I am willing to entertain your proposal on one condition. Both sides must agree to stop active combat immediately. If even one skirmish breaks out, the truce will be void."
Rivka nodded, relief flickering across his face, "Agreed. I'll send word to my men and ensure they comply."
Arnook raised a hand to stop further discussion, saying, "This will take time, Rivka. We need to convince both my people and yours. Yet, you have established enough trust to start this process. Let's see if you can keep it intact."
As the meeting concluded, Rivka and his allies lingered for a moment. Aang approached, his youthful optimism shining through, and remarked, "You did it, Rivka. A truce—this is a promising beginning, isn't it?"
Rivka offered a tired smile, "It's a start. But it's only the beginning."
Iroh gently placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Small steps lead to great journeys. You've already taken the first step, Rivka. Now, we must ensure we follow through."
The fleet's ride back was a tough chore for Rivka, who wanted to return to his singular ship with his team and quietly return to the Fire Nation while he nursed his burn. As he hinted to Rivka, General Iroh had taken measures to prevent someone from returning to the Fire Nation territory prematurely and had since vanished with his former squad. In these fleeting conversations, Rivka was made aware of what was happening with the exiled Prince Zuko.
He wasn't happy with what Iroh had told him. Ozai sounded like he was more of a crap parent than what Rivka had originally guessed. He'd also been informed more about Ozai's late wife Ursa and alluded to the political drama behind that. Among those fleeting conversations with Iroh was a new piece of insight into the inner workings of the Fire Nation royal family. Rivka had already pieced together that Ozai wasn't exactly winning any Father of the Year awards, but hearing about the exiled Prince Zuko's situation was another level of horrifying. Iroh had spoken carefully, his words more suggestion than outright declaration, but the undercurrent of sorrow in his voice made the truth clear enough. Zuko had been a child trying to do what was right, and Ozai had burned him for it literally.
These were largely implied words and mostly known facts among the Fire Nation locals—some of which he had even heard rumours about prior. Rivka felt exhausted after the flurry of discussions, planning, and coordinating other military units to manage their sections of the fleet. Perhaps overly so, the persistent hum of his soul mark kept his weary mind engaged, preventing him from sleeping well during the journey back to his temporary home.
Thankfully, his return to the capital was quiet. Rivka had ensured that no grand welcome awaited him. A guard escorted him directly to his quarters, where he all but collapsed onto the narrow bed. His uniform was still on, the fabric stiff and uncomfortable, but he was too tired to care.
As sleep tugged at him, his thoughts drifted to the feedback from his soulmark. It had grown stronger, sharper in its signals. He could feel emotions trickling through - a sense of frustration that mirrored his own, a flicker of apprehension he hadn't expected. His soul mark was getting easier to sense the emotions from, especially in the evening when he was left to his thoughts. He'd hazard a guess that it was a direct relay to some of Ozai's emotions and that Ozai was feeling what he was in return. Spirits knew what that meant when he was burnt and how Ozai would respond to that.
As Rivka sensed a presence in the room, he lingered in that transitional realm between sleep and wakefulness. Initially, he believed he was dreaming, but the subtle noise of the door closing and the gentle footsteps on the stone floor gradually roused him. He remained still, his body weighed down by fatigue, only managing to open one eye slightly.
Ozai.
The Fire Lord stood at the edge of the room, his imposing figure outlined faintly in the dim light filtering through the window. Rivka closed his eyes again, feigning sleep. He wasn't ready for this, whatever it was. But instead of leaving, Ozai moved closer, his steps measured and deliberate. The mattress shifted as he sat on the edge of the bed. Rivka opened his eyes fully, staring at the ceiling.
"You're getting bold," he murmured, his voice rough with fatigue, "What if I'd screamed?"
"You wouldn't," Ozai replied, his tone quiet but firm.
Rivka turned his head to look at him, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"No? You're awfully confident for someone sneaking into my room at night."
Ozai remained silent initially, his gaze fixed on Rivka's chest, where the gentle feeling of the soul mark was. Then, he directed his attention to the bandages wrapped around his arm. For a fleeting moment, both remained quiet, not saying a word.
"You're in pain," Ozai finally spoke, his tone surprisingly gentle, "The reports failed to mention that."
Rivka raised an eyebrow, "Didn't think you cared."
"I don't," Ozai snapped, but the edge in his voice was hollow. His eyes remained on the faint outline of the bandages, "You should be more careful. You can't afford mistakes."
Rivka laughed softly, the sound dry and bitter, "You're telling me? Spirits, Fire Lord Ozai, I'm terrified half the time. Do you have any idea how stupid this all feels? I'm walking a razor's edge, trying to broker peace with people who'd rather see me dead while wearing the colours of the nation that tried to invade my home. And now, I'm connected to you, of all people. It's-" He broke off, exhaling shakily, "It's overwhelming."
Ozai's expression tightened, his hands curling into fists on his knees. Rivka could feel the storm of emotions radiating through the soulmark - anger, yes, but also fear. It was sharp and raw, an emotion Ozai likely hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.
"You're scared," Rivka said quietly, his eyes narrowing, "You don't have to admit it. I can feel it."
Ozai's jaw tightened as he turned to Rivka, declaring, "Fear is meaningless. Control is what counts."
"Control," Rivka repeated with a tired smile, "Is that what you think you have?"
For a long moment, Ozai didn't answer. He stood abruptly, his movements sharp, and turned toward the door.
"Take a break, Rivka," he called behind him, his tone reverting to its customary authority, "You'll need your energy."
And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him. Rivka stared after him, the echo of Ozai's emotions still lingering in the air. There had been no apology, no comforting words, but... something had shifted. He couldn't quite place it, but it was there.
As Rivka woke the following morning, he discovered his uniform was neatly cleaned and pressed, with a breakfast tray on the small table by the window. Though it was a modest meal, he noticed the small bowl of herbal salve beside it. This salve was specifically for burns—a thoughtful touch he might have overlooked if not for the gentle pull of the soulmark as he reached for it.
Ozai hadn't said it outright, but the gesture spoke volumes. Rivka allowed himself a small, wry smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Chapter 14: The Balance of Power
Notes:
I'm upset Grammarly charged me for an annual plan instead of a monthly to help me edit this mammoth fic, and it was close enough to payday that the money was sitting there, so have another chapter early 💀 Live and learn peeps x
Chapter Text
The atmosphere of the Fire Nation war council was as intense as the flames that forged their empire. Rivka stood at the distant end of the long table, his burned arm bandaged yet visible, his uniform immaculate. Despite his fatigue, he maintained a strong posture and a steady gaze as he surveyed the gathered generals, ministers, and strategists.
General Kuya, an experienced and keen-eyed veteran, presided over the table. As soon as he entered the room, his scepticism of Rivka was apparent. Opposite him was General Cheng, one of the rare council members who frequently favoured pragmatism over aggression. Rivka noticed that General Kaizhu appeared fatigued, likely due to his efforts to defend her.
Rivka cleared his throat as the room settled, "I won't waste your time," he began, his voice even but forceful, "I returned from the Northern Water Tribe not as a traitor but as someone who defended my homeland without betraying the Fire Nation."
Kuya's lip curled, "Defended your homeland? You mean you held back our forces and saved Water Tribe lives. How exactly does that serve the Fire Nation's interests?"
"It serves the Fire Nation's long-term interests," Rivka shot back, his calm demeanour unwavering, "We are stretched thin. Resources, soldiers and morale, this war is bleeding us dry. If we continue this way, there won't be a Fire Nation strong enough to claim any victory, let alone sustain it."
General Cheng tapped her chin thoughtfully, "Diplomacy is a weapon we've rarely used, but one that could spare us years of bloodshed. The Northern Water Tribe is fractured but not broken. Rivka's efforts might buy us an opportunity for negotiation instead of annihilation."
"Negotiation?" Kuya scoffed, "The Fire Nation does not negotiate. We conquer. That has been our way since the reign of Fire Lord Sozin."
"Then perhaps it's time we learned something new," Rivka retorted, his tone sharper now, "I faced the Northern Water Tribe not as an outsider but as one of their own. I know their strengths and their weaknesses. They respect strength, yes, but they also respect balance. They will listen if we show them that we can offer peace without chains. And if they listen, the other nations will follow."
Kuya leaned forward, his voice a low growl, "And if they don't? If they see our offer as a sign of weakness?"
Rivka met his gaze without flinching, "Then we will still be stronger for having tried. War doesn't make us invincible; it makes us vulnerable. Look at what we've already lost," He gestured to the map on the table, dotted with markers for Fire Nation forces spread across the globe, "If we continue this way, it's not a question of if we fall, but when."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in.
Cheng broke the tension by saying, "He has a point. But there's a cost to this kind of diplomacy—a price the Fire Nation will demand in exchange for considering such a radical shift."
Kuya smirked, "And there it is. The Fire Nation is built on strength and unity. If you want us to embrace your vision, Rivka, you'll need to prove that you're one of us."
Rivka's eyes narrowed, "Meaning?"
Kuya leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening.
"The Fire Nation won't accept peace talks led by a Waterbender, even one as accomplished as you unless you give them something in return. What better leverage than to show that our Fire Lord's soulmate is a Water Tribe Master?"
The room erupted into murmurs, some voices incredulous, others intrigued.
Cheng raised a hand, silencing the noise, "It's bold," she admitted, "But not without merit. A public declaration would bind you to us politically as well as personally. The people love their Fire Lord, and if they see you as his soulmate-"
"They'll hate me," Rivka interrupted, his tone bitter.
"Not necessarily," Cheng defended, "But with time, they'll see it as a symbol of strength. Peace between Fire and Water, bridging the divide."
Rivka felt the gentle tug of the soul mark on his chest, echoing emotions that weren't entirely his own: anxiety, determination, and a hint of a nearly protective sensation.
He took a deep breath, "And what does the Fire Lord think of this?"
Kuya's smirk faltered. He hadn't expected Rivka to address Ozai so directly.
The silence stretched as Rivka's gaze swept the room. He felt the weight of his words, the tension in the air, and the subtle pulse of his soulmark. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"If this is what it takes to end this war, I'll do it," he said firmly, "I'll stand before the Fire Nation and the world and announce my bond with the Fire Lord. But understand this-" His voice hardened, the exhaustion of the past weeks finally breaking through, "I'm not doing this to serve your pride or your empire. I'm doing this because I believe in something greater than any one nation."
The room remained silent, every eye on Rivka as his words hung in the air.
Cheng inclined her head, "Then let's see if the Fire Lord agrees."
There was silence as the room turned to look at the red curtain drawn over where Ozai was sitting. Listening but not seen, there but not participating in squabbles. Rivka's mark hummed in contemplation for a breath before Ozai spoke.
"We'll have a public celebration. My brother and son seem more aligned with us now, so invite them along," Ozai declared, "Everyone will know that the Waterbender is mine."
Rivka felt a curl of smug pride in his chest, unsure who it belonged to. Blue eyes searched across the drawn maroon fabric, looking for something he wasn't going to see. What political schemes included his exiled son and "soft" brother? How was Azula going to respond to this?
"When would you like the day to be, Fire Lord?"
"Three weeks from now, midday on the last day of the week," Ozai declared, "In that time, we will assess relations with the Water Tribe and see what can be of benefit before we declare Zhao a traitor who tried to kill Master Rivka."
"Yes, Fire Lord," there was a chorus, Rivka echoing the sentiments as the war room cleared out.
"Rivka," Ozai called before he left, "Stay behind."
Rivka did as he was told, a shot of adrenaline running through him. When he was the only one left, the curtains were pulled back, revealing the cocky smirk of Ozai, who was seated formally on a mimic of his throne made for this room. Flames licked the bottom of the elevated flooring he sat on, and Rivka wondered if he was controlling them.
There was an attendant who, at a glance from Ozai, scampered off out a side door, leaving the two completely alone to have their conversation.
Ozai's golden eyes narrowed as he observed Rivka, his smirk shifting into something sharper, calculating. The silence stretched just long enough to make Rivka uneasy before the Fire Lord finally spoke.
"This arrangement," Ozai began, his voice calm but laced with a subtle warning, "Is not traditional. You are not my wife, nor are you here to bear any part of my bloodline. What we are to each other, publicly and privately, will be determined by necessity, not sentiment. You are a Waterbender, a master of your craft, and now - my soulmate. That alone is a weapon with far more potential than most realise."
Rivka listened carefully, his blue eyes steady despite the tension curling in his chest.
Ozai leaned forward slightly, the firelight casting his angular features into sharper relief.
"The people will expect a show of unity, and they will scrutinize every gesture, every word, every glance. They will look for weakness - in you, in us - because if they can find a crack, they can exploit it. You will have to prove yourself worthy, not just to them, but to me."
The Fire Lord's voice dropped, growing quieter, almost reflective.
"I do not expect from you what I once expected from my late wife. You are not here to be a shadow or to serve in silence. You are here because the world has deemed it so and because I see the potential for something greater. You will support me, Rivka, and in doing so, support the Fire Nation. Whether the public takes to you or despises you depends entirely on how you present yourself to them."
Rivka inclined his head, his expression neutral, "I understand. What exactly do you expect of me at this celebration?"
Ozai's smirk returned, faint but unmistakable.
"Very little, to begin with. On the day of the announcement, you will give a short speech. Speak of unity, strength, balance or whatever it is you think will inspire them. Keep it concise. Then, we will display a gesture of unity, a clasp of hands, perhaps. Nothing too intimate." He paused, his gaze piercing, "It must look authentic. They must believe it."
"And if they don't?" Rivka asked evenly, meeting Ozai's gaze.
"Then they will hate you," Ozai said bluntly, "And they will hate me for allowing you to stand by my side. Either way, the Fire Nation will watch your every move from this point forward. They will seize upon every word you speak, misstep, and perceive failure. This is the beginning of court politics for you, Rivka. The beginning of your true test. And if you falter, they will ruin you to weaken me."
The atmosphere thickened as the firelight danced unsettlingly. Rivka contemplated Ozai's words, fully grasping their weighty implications.
"Are you warning me," Rivka asked slowly, "Or testing me?"
Ozai's expression hardened.
"Both. You have a sharp mind and a steady tongue, but you've never faced anything like this. You have shown yourself capable thus far, but this is not the battlefield. Here, enemies are faceless, allies are fleeting, and the rules are whatever we say they are until someone decides to change them."
He paused, his voice growing quieter, almost introspective.
"I will not shield you from this. Even if I wanted to, it would weaken us both. But understand this: the forces you will face, the schemes that will rise against you, are not something even I can fully control. This is your path now, Rivka. And whether it leads to glory or ruin will depend on your ability to navigate it."
Rivka exhaled slowly, his mind already racing.
"And what of the royal family? Azula, I suspect, won't take this announcement kindly. And you're inviting Zuko and Iroh back into the fold? Why?"
Ozai's smirk returned, sharper this time, "That, Rivka, is for you to discover. Consider it... your first lesson in Fire Nation politics. Trust nothing, question everything, and always be ready to defend yourself. Even from those closest to you."
For the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossed Ozai's features, hesitation, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of regret. It was gone as quickly as it came.
"You have three weeks," Ozai said, his tone brisk once more, "Prepare yourself. This is the proper start of your life in my court."
Rivka bowed slightly, his expression unreadable, "As you command, Fire Lord."
Ozai waved a dismissive hand, signalling the end of their conversation. Rivka turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back at the man seated on the elevated platform.
"And you, Ozai?" Rivka asked quietly, "What will you do to prepare?"
The Fire Lord's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of arrogance and amusement.
"I am always prepared."
Rivka remained silent as he exited the corridor, feeling the considerable weight of his new role. The soft hum of the soul mark reminded him of their connection—a bond neither of them had chosen, yet both were now compelled to bear.
Three weeks. Three weeks to prepare for a world that would likely hate him. Rivka squared his shoulders and began walking, his steps echoing through the dimly lit halls of the Fire Nation palace.
It was only the beginning.
Rivka sat cross-legged in the quiet of his study, his scroll unfurled before him. The intricate strokes of his writing brush were measured and precise, yet he hesitated as the next phrase came to mind. He set the brush aside with a sigh, rubbing his temples. The weight of expectation was no less daunting than the battles he had fought.
The sharp click of heels on the polished floor outside snapped him from his thoughts. The door slid open, and Azula stepped in without preamble, her sharp amber eyes narrowing as they swept over him.
"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping with disdainful curiosity, "Master Rivka, working so diligently to earn the Fire Nation's approval, I see. I wonder how long that will last."
Rivka rose smoothly, his expression calm but guarded, "Princess Azula. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Azula strode forward, folding her arms as she regarded him.
"You're quite the anomaly, you know. A Waterbender standing in the heart of the Fire Nation, pretending to belong. It's almost amusing."
"Pretending is a matter of perspective," Rivka replied evenly, "If you're here to test me, Princess, you'll have to be more specific."
Her smirk widened slightly.
"Fine. Let's start with this: I heard you had an... encounter with my uncle during the Northern Water Tribe invasion. Is that true?"
Rivka's brow arched slightly, though his expression remained neutral, "It is. We spoke briefly during the battle."
"And?" Azula prompted, her tone sharp, "What did you think of him?"
Rivka met her gaze without flinching.
"Iroh is a man of wisdom and conviction. He understands the importance of balance, something the spirits themselves demand. He fought for the Fire Nation but also to preserve something greater."
Azula's smirk faltered, her expression tightening.
"So, you're as deluded as he is. Balance is a weakness. Harmony is stagnation. My father understands that true strength comes from domination and reshaping the world into what it should be."
Rivka tilted his head, his voice calm but firm.
"Domination without balance is like a flame without fuel. It burns brightly, but it cannot sustain itself. Even your father must see that, or he would not be considering the changes we're discussing now."
Azula's eyes narrowed, and her tone turned icy, "Careful, Waterbender. You may have impressed my father, but that doesn't make you untouchable."
Rivka inclined his head slightly.
"Of course not. But I wonder, Princess, how do you define untouchable? Is it the one who clings to power at all costs or the one who adapts and survives? Your uncle understands survival. Perhaps it's worth considering why."
Azula took a step closer, her tone biting.
"And what about my brother? Do you think he understands survival?"
Rivka paused, studying her, "I haven't met Prince Zuko yet. What would you have me know about him?"
Azula scoffed, uncrossing her arms, "He's weak. A failure. Banished for his inability to grasp what it means to be strong. He'll never be anything more than a disappointment."
Rivka's blue eyes softened slightly, though his voice carried an edge of challenge.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps his exile is a reflection of something else. If the Fire Nation's goals shift, as they seem poised to do, your brother's choices might not look like a failure anymore. They might look like foresight."
Azula's expression hardened as her fists clenched, "You know nothing about my brother. Don't dare to lecture me about him or anything else."
Rivka nodded once, his tone steady.
"You're right, Princess. I don't know him, but I do know this: strength is not a fixed thing. It changes with time and perspective. Perhaps it's worth considering what kind of strength the Fire Nation needs right now and who might possess it."
Azula glared at him for a long moment, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. Then, with a sharp turn, she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Rivka exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting back to the scroll on the table. Azula's words echoed in his mind, along with the faint memory of Iroh's calm wisdom during their brief meeting.
Strength. Balance. Survival.
He picked up his brush, dipping it into the ink. With deliberate strokes, he began to write again, weaving the conversation into the framework of his speech.
The Fire Nation's future was not a question of fire alone, water alone, or any one element. It was a question of balance, of finding the strength to adapt, endure, and transform.
And Rivka, for all the doubts and hostilities surrounding him, was determined to be part of that transformation.
Chapter 15: The Exile's Arrival
Chapter Text
With the end of a week of preparations and two weeks left to go, Rivka had been meeting a lot of people. This family had military ties and wanted to wish the Fire Lord the best with his soul mate. This person hated that he was a Waterbender but deemed his conversation adequate. On and on they went as he tried to figure out how this nation was going to try to accept him. It was such an evening that Rivka decided he wanted to speak to Ozai, but he couldn't wander into the throne room or his chambers.
Naturally, Rivka sent the message via attendant, which resulted in Ozai kindly scheduling some time for him after he'd finished whatever duties ate away at his day. The Waterbender mused that he was getting particularly used to all of the palace shenanigans by this point. When the time came for the walk to what Rivka guessed was Ozai's study, he was navigating new places. The halls quickly became unfamiliar, and he was left silently following a growingly wary attendant, which somewhat spiked his nerves.
The attendant finally stopped at a large, intricately carved door that had been left cracked. Its surface was adorned with swirling flame motifs. The attendant bowed sharply to Rivka, avoiding eye contact as he gestured for the Waterbender to enter. Rivka hesitated briefly, smoothing his robes before stepping inside.
The study was surprisingly modest compared to the grandeur of the rest of the palace. A massive desk dominated the room, flanked by towering shelves laden with scrolls and tomes. The air smelled faintly of ink and candle wax, though the ever-present heat of the Fire Nation gave the space a sense of dryness that Rivka found oddly stifling.
Ozai stood by the desk, his back to the door as he studied a map spread out before him. He didn't turn when Rivka entered, though his voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
"Rivka. You finally sought me out. I was beginning to wonder if your philosophy required you to avoid direct confrontation."
Rivka closed the door behind him, stepping forward but stopping a respectful distance from the desk.
"Not at all, Fire Lord, but I've been trying to understand your court before I presumed to understand you."
Ozai turned then, his golden eyes sharp and assessing, "And what have you learned?"
"That your nation is divided," Rivka said, meeting Ozai's gaze without flinching, "Not in loyalty, but in belief. Some cling to the old ways: domination, conquest, and the superiority of fire, above all. Others speak cautiously of balance, of coexistence. And then there's you, standing at the centre of it all."
Ozai raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
"And you've come to tell me which path you believe I should take?"
"Not exactly," Rivka replied, "I've come to ask why you've allowed me to speak about balance at all. You've made it clear in the past that you don't believe in such things. So why tolerate me?"
Ozai smirked faintly, stepping around the desk to face Rivka fully, "You're assuming I tolerate you. Perhaps I merely find your presence amusing."
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as Ozai spoke. His gaze flickered briefly to the scar on Rivka's forearm. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching between them like a taut string.
"Did you feel it?" Rivka decided to ask the question passively in his mind, "I can't remember much past the adrenaline, but you must have had some feedback when I got this."
"What would an answer serve to prove?" Ozai queried, "That I'd care?"
"The risk, I suppose," Rivka hummed, "That you can be hurt through me and that people might learn to take advantage of that."
"You've found yourself rather emotionally immune to the palace and all that it entails," Ozai slowly answered, his eyes locked onto Rivka, "If all it took were physical harm to cripple me through you, someone would have done it already."
"They still might," Rivka mindlessly added, "I've been snuck up on a few times in my life, you know?"
"Regardless, your main concern should be your safety within my court. You keep preaching dangerous gambits of peace - not all will work out like the Northern Tribe did."
"Because I understand the cost," Rivka replied evenly, "And I've learned to respect the balance between destruction and creation. Something I'm beginning to think you've considered more than you let on."
Ozai chuckled, the sound low and almost dangerous.
"You give me too much credit, Rivka. Or perhaps not enough. You've spent weeks preaching balance to my court, but let's not pretend you've swayed me. The Fire Nation doesn't bow to balance; it bends balance to its will."
"Then why let me speak at all?" Rivka countered, his voice calm but insistent, "If you truly believed that, if you were so certain of your path, you wouldn't need me here at all, and yet, here I am."
For a moment, there was silence, the tension between them crackling like distant thunder. Then Ozai stepped closer, his golden eyes boring into Rivka's.
"You're bold, I'll grant you that," he said softly, almost tauntingly, "But don't mistake my patience for weakness. You may be my soulmate, Rivka, but you've yet to prove yourself to me. Remember that."
Rivka held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.
"And you, Fire Lord, may be my soulmate, but you've yet to prove that your strength isn't just smoke and mirrors."
Ozai's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes, "Careful, Rivka. You're playing with fire."
Rivka inclined his head, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "And yet, I'm still here. Perhaps that says something about both of us."
With that, Ozai gestured dismissively, though there was a flicker of something, curiosity perhaps, in his eyes.
"We'll see if your words hold as much weight in action. For now, you're dismissed."
Rivka bowed slightly and turned to leave, his heart steady despite the tension that still lingered in the air. As he walked back through the unfamiliar halls, he found himself turning Ozai's words over in his mind.
"You may be my soulmate, but you've yet to prove yourself to me."
He was damned if he had to change an entire nation's thought process that wasn't even his before Ozai was satisfied with him "proving" himself. Rivka distantly wondered what Ozai was waiting for before it blew up in his face.
Rivka made it through a few more days before anything of note happened again.
The announcement of Zuko and Iroh's return hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. While courtiers murmured amongst themselves about the implications, Rivka remained outwardly composed, though he couldn't help but be curious about Ozai's decision. A taste of home, but not the full measure. It was a calculated move that revealed more about the Fire Lord's intent than Rivka cared to admit aloud.
The hall buzzed when Zuko and Iroh entered, their contrasting presence immediately striking. Zuko, rigid and tense, his scarred face set in quiet determination, barely spared a glance at the assembled crowd. His golden eyes seemed fixed on something distant, unreachable. Iroh, by contrast, moved with a grace and ease that belied the weight of his nephew's struggles. He offered polite bows and nods, his presence a balm that softened the edges of the room's tension.
Rivka observed from the sidelines, blending into the edges of the gathering. His eyes lingered on Zuko, the fire simmering beneath the surface of his controlled demeanour, and Azula's pointed avoidance of acknowledging her brother and uncle. Not a flicker of recognition passed between them. It was a deliberate snub that spoke volumes about their fractured family dynamic.
Rivka let the silence between him and Iroh stretch until dinner, when he finally sat near the older man. Their brief meeting during the Northern Tribe's invasion had left an impression on Rivka, and Iroh's measured words and sharp mind had been a rare glimmer of calm amidst the chaos.
"General Iroh," Rivka greeted softly as the older man set his tea down, "It's good to see you again under... less immediate circumstances."
"Master Rivka," Iroh replied, his voice warm and familiar, "The spirits must have a sense of humour to reunite us here, of all places. Though I cannot say I'm displeased, I hear you've been making quite the impression."
Rivka chuckled, his tone wry, "Not all impressions are positive, I'm afraid. But it's mutual, I assure you."
Iroh gave a knowing hum, his gaze flickering to Zuko, who sat a few seats down, quietly picking at his food. Rivka followed his gaze and frowned. Zuko's shoulders were taut, his posture strained.
"He's been through much," Iroh said quietly, "More than he lets on."
"I can see that," Rivka replied, "but he's keeping his thoughts guarded."
Iroh smiled faintly, "A habit of his. Though he doesn't yet understand their value, he guards his thoughts the way others guard treasures."
Rivka filed the observation away for later and leaned back slightly in his chair.
"And what of you? You've seen the tides shift in this family more than anyone. Do you think this visit will offer him peace?"
Iroh's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet sorrow.
"Peace is not something easily given or received in this family. But perhaps it will offer clarity in time."
After dinner, Rivka sought Zuko out in a quieter corridor. The boy was alone, standing by a window that overlooked the palace gardens. He didn't turn when Rivka approached, though his shoulders stiffened.
"Prince Zuko," Rivka greeted, keeping his tone neutral, "Do you have a moment?"
Zuko's gaze remained fixed on the garden.
"What do you want?"
"To understand you better," Rivka admitted, "Your father speaks little of you, but I've gathered enough to know you've been through trials not unlike my own."
That caught Zuko's attention. He turned, his expression wary but curious. "Trials like yours? What could you possibly know about what I've been through?"
Rivka stepped closer, his stance unthreatening. "More than you might think. Exile shapes a person, as does loss. And I've come to learn that what we believe the spirits intend for us is rarely as simple or as fair as it seems."
Zuko's eyes darkened.
"Do you believe that? That the spirits deemed all of this necessary? That my mother's disappearance, my exile, all of it was... for some higher purpose?"
"No," Rivka said simply, "I believe the spirits give us tools, not instructions. What we build with those tools is up to us."
For a moment, Zuko was silent, his gaze falling to the floor.
"I don't know what to think about any of this. About you." He glanced up, his jaw tightening, "My father has a soulmate... it feels wrong like the spirits are mocking me. Like everything I've been through was some preparation for this."
Rivka regarded him carefully, noting the mix of resentment and vulnerability in the young prince's words.
"And what do you think your father sees in you? What purpose do you believe you serve in his eyes?"
Zuko flinched slightly at the question, his fists clenching.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low, "I've spent years trying to prove myself to him, and now... now it feels like I'll never be enough."
Rivka nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.
"Perhaps you should stop trying to be enough for him and focus on what's enough for you."
Zuko looked away, his shoulders slumping, "It's not that simple."
"It never is," Rivka agreed, his voice soft, "But that doesn't mean it isn't worth considering."
Without waiting for a response, Rivka stepped back and turned to leave, his mind already churning with thoughts. Zuko's pain was raw, his purpose uncertain. Whatever Ozai intended for his son, it was clear that Zuko was still searching for something Ozai could never give him.
As Rivka walked away, he wondered what role Zuko would ultimately play in this tangled web of family, power, and destiny and whether the boy would find his answers before the Fire Lord's machinations consumed him. It was hard not to feel a bit of empathy for a boy so lost and a father so uncaring; Rivka didn't want to think of the implications that meant for him as Ozai's soulmate in this situation, not right now.
Chapter 16: Haunted by Waves
Chapter Text
The moon hung high over the Fire Nation palace, its pale light casting soft shadows through the open balcony of Rivka's chambers. The faint hum of the city below was a distant reminder of the world outside, though it barely reached past the palace walls. For now, the night was quiet.
Rivka sat cross-legged on the floor, his fingers absently tracing the edge of a clay teacup. Iroh's influence, no doubt. The man had been generous enough to leave behind a tin of his favourite jasmine blend earlier that evening, and Rivka accepted it with a smile, though his thoughts had been elsewhere.
Zuko. Iroh. What strange additions to the palace's ecosystem.
Zuko was a puzzle; his anger simmered beneath every glance and word, but there was a hollowness to it, a sadness Rivka recognized too well. He hadn't pressed the young prince further after their earlier conversation, but the boy's words lingered in his mind.
Was he truly so resentful of the spirits for bringing Rivka into this family? Or was it simply another layer of the complicated grief Zuko carried for his mother, father, and perhaps even himself?
On the other hand, Iroh was exactly as Rivka remembered him: warm, insightful, and far sharper than he let on. Their brief meeting days ago had planted the seeds of mutual respect, and tonight's quiet conversation had only strengthened it. He'd be an invaluable ally in navigating the delicate web of politics that came with being Firelord Ozai's soulmate.
Ah, yes. The announcement.
Rivka sighed, setting the teacup aside as he leaned back against the cushions on the floor. The entire Fire Nation would learn of the bond that tethered him to Ozai in five days. A sun and a moon, bound together by forces neither could control, yet irrevocably drawn to one another.
What would they think?
He could already hear the murmurs. Some would celebrate it as a sign of spiritual favour, proof of Ozai's divine right to rule. Others, perhaps a more dangerous faction, would see it as a threat. A waterbender in the palace. A soulmate who questioned the Fire Lord's philosophies and ambitions.
The Fire Nation didn't take kindly to outsiders, especially not ones who challenged the status quo.
Rivka stretched his arms above his head, his body protesting with a dull ache. He had just begun to settle into the plush bedding, his eyes fluttering shut as the cool night breeze brushed against his skin.
The palace was silent, save for the faint hum of the city in the distance. Rivka shifted on his mattress, half-asleep, his body still tense despite the luxury of his surroundings. He had never been one for deep sleep, not even in the relative safety of the palace.
It was a feeling that saved him.
The soft scrape of a foot against stone jolted him awake, though his body remained perfectly still. His eyes opened just enough to catch the faint glint of moonlight on metal, the outline of a figure moving toward his bed.
No... three figures.
Adrenaline coursed through Rivka's veins, and his heartbeat resonated in his ears. His hand tightened beneath the covers, fingers twitching towards the edge of the bed, where a small pitcher of water sat on a nearby stand. A delicate layer of condensation from the humid night started to gather on the walls and floor, possibly just enough.
The intruders wore dark clothes that hid their faces, moving with intention and silence. They remained silent, offering no clues about their identities or motives. Yet, their purpose was unmistakable.
Rivka.
A chill ran through him, but it was quickly replaced by something else, an unexpected jolt of anger and alarm, not his own. Through the faint tether of his soulmark, Rivka could feel Ozai stir. A wave of confusion and fury passed over Rivka like a shadow, mingling with his growing panic.
Ozai had felt it.
No time to dwell on that now.
The first attacker raised a dagger, its blade gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Rivka sprang into action, twisting out of bed just as the dagger plunged into the empty mattress with a muted thud.
He stretched his fingers in the same motion toward the pitcher, drawing a thin stream of water from it. The liquid coiled in the air, shimmering faintly in the moonlight before lashing out like a whip. It struck the first attacker's arm, forcing him to drop the blade with a muffled grunt.
The other two moved quickly, fanning out to flank him. One hurled a fireball, the heat searing the edge of Rivka's sleeve as he narrowly dodged. He retaliated with a concentrated spray of water, extinguishing the flames mid-air.
"Who sent you?" Rivka demanded, his voice low but sharp.
The intruders didn't answer. The only response was another dagger slicing through the air toward him. He sidestepped, using the water to pull moisture from the sweat on his skin and form a razor-thin shield of ice. The blade clanged harmlessly against it, some small shards scattering into the air.
The second attacker lunged, swinging a curved blade. Rivka ducked, twisting his body to evade the strike as he gathered what little condensation he could from the humid night air. The water pooled around his hands before forming a jagged shard of ice that he drove into the attacker's shoulder. A cry of pain escaped the man, but he didn't falter.
These weren't ordinary soldiers. Their precision, their silence, this was a coordinated strike.
The fight raged on, the attackers' movements growing more frantic as it became clear their prey wouldn't go down easily. Rivka's chest heaved as he pulled more water from the air, sweat dripping from his brow. The attackers were relentless, forcing him to retreat toward the open window.
One of them hurled another fireball, the heat close enough to singe his hair. Rivka retaliated with a spray of icy shards, forcing the attacker back as he leapt onto his table.
The attackers advanced in unison, reducing the space between themselves and their target. Rivka cast a quick glance at the window behind him before returning his focus to the three figures approaching. His breath quickened, and his body tensed like a coiled spring.
And then, the door burst open.
Guards flooded the room, their shouts breaking the tense silence. The attackers hesitated, just for a moment, before one of them turned and bolted toward the window. Rivka reacted instinctively, pulling the last remnants of moisture from the air to form a whip of water that lashed out and caught the man's ankle.
The attacker fell hard, his body crashing against the stone floor.
The guards quickly subdued the other two, their struggles futile against the overwhelming force of the palace's defenders.
Rivka moved to the centre of the room, his chest heaving, his hands trembling as he let the small amount of water fall to the floor in a faint splash. His gaze flickered to the attackers, their faces still obscured, and then to the guards.
"Take them," he said hoarsely, "I want answers."
As the guards dragged the unconscious and bound attackers from the room, Rivka slumped against the wall, his body shaking with the aftereffects of adrenaline.
Ozai's presence pressed against his mind again, sharper this time, demanding clarity. Anger, protectiveness, and something else; concern?
Rivka exhaled shakily, brushing a hand through his damp hair, "So much for a peaceful night."
Soon after Rivka embarked on his quest for answers, he had yet to encounter anyone of official capacity aside from the royal guards. He found himself in a subterranean chamber of the palace. The stone room was frigid, illuminated solely by a solitary brazier that cast flickering shadows upon the walls. The assailants were restrained in heavy chairs, their faces marred by bruises yet displaying defiance. Rivka stood at a distance, his arms crossed firmly across his chest as he surveyed the scene.
The leader, a wiry man with a burn scar curling across his cheek, sneered at the guards. When one of them barked a question, the man let out a laugh that was bitter and venomous.
"You're wasting your time," he spat, "Kill us, and ten more will rise in our place. We are the Fire Nation. True Fire Nation."
Rivka furrowed his brow, his fingers gripping his arm tightly. He advanced, his boots echoing on the stone floor.
"And what do you think I am?" He inquired, his voice low yet resonant.
The scarred man turned his glare on Rivka, his lip curling, "A mistake. A stain on our nation's honour. The Fire Lord's attachment to you is a weakness and will destroy him. We are simply... correcting that."
Rivka's jaw clenched. The words shouldn't have stung; they came from a fanatic who likely hadn't seen beyond the walls of his own rigid beliefs, but they dug under his skin. Not because they were true but because they echoed whispers he'd heard in the palace halls, murmurs behind silk screens and gilded doors.
He took a slow breath, willing himself to remain calm.
"You're not afraid of me," he said, his tone sharper now, "You're afraid of what I represent. Change."
The man's silence confirmed it.
The guard captain stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"We'll extract the rest of what they know, Master Rivka."
Rivka gave a slight nod before turning to exit. As the heavy door closed behind him, he released a long sigh. His body still buzzed with leftover adrenaline, but now it blended with deep fatigue.
Prisoner. Guest. Soulmate. The titles swirled in his mind, each one as heavy as the last. He had been here only a few months, and yet the pace of its constant tension, whispers of danger and the unyielding weight of his connection to Ozai was beginning to crack something deep within him.
As he walked through the dim palace corridors, he couldn't help but feel the walls closing in. He had stood on battlefields, led warriors into the fray and faced death countless times. Yet here, surrounded by silk and firelight, he felt trapped in a way he never had before.
The court wasn't just a battleground; it was a labyrinth, and he was only beginning to map its treacherous paths.
The summons came in the early hours not long after he'd returned to his room, delivered by a young attendant who looked almost as nervous as Rivka felt.
"The Fire Lord wishes to see you," the boy stammered, bowing before retreating hastily.
Rivka didn't move immediately. He sat at the edge of his bed, his hands resting on his knees. His room was still dim, the faintest grey light creeping through the curtains. The pitcher of water on the table caught the soft light, its low surface rippling as if sensing his unease.
Through the soulmark, Rivka felt it again, a faint pull, a flicker of something raw and unguarded from Ozai. Fear? No. Fire Lords didn't fear, but there was something close to it, a crack in the armour Ozai wore so fiercely.
He stood, adjusting his robe before making his way to Ozai's chambers.
Upon his arrival, the doors opened, a gentle light pouring into the hallway. Rivka paused at the entrance, inhaling deeply to steady herself before entering.
Ozai was by the window, his silhouette stark against the molten glow of the pre-dawn sky. For a moment, Rivka simply watched him. The Fire Lord's posture was rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a restlessness in the way he shifted his weight.
"You summoned me," Rivka said, his voice carefully neutral.
Ozai turned slowly, his golden eyes narrowing as they met Rivka's. There was no fire in his gaze this time, only something heavy, almost uncertain.
"Sit," Ozai said, gesturing to the low table off to the side of the room.
Rivka complied, lowering himself onto the cushion. Ozai didn't follow immediately; instead, he paced the room, his movements sharp and uneven.
"You were nearly killed," Ozai said abruptly, his voice low but taut.
Rivka tilted his head, studying the Fire Lord, "You sound surprised."
Ozai stopped pacing, his gaze snapping to Rivka.
"Do not mistake my words for concern," he said sharply, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath the bite, "An attack within my palace is an insult to my rule."
Rivka leaned back slightly, his expression calm but unyielding.
"It's not just an attack on me. It's an attack on what we are. On the idea that this connection", he tapped the centre of his chest, "Could be anything other than a mistake in their eyes."
Ozai clenched his jaw but paused before answering. He then seated himself at the table, facing Rivka.
"At the onset of the attack," Ozai articulated in a measured tone, his voice now subdued, "I experienced it. Through the soulmark."
Rivka nodded, meeting his gaze. "It's part of what this bond is. It's not just an annoyance or a chain, Ozai; it's a connection. One we may not understand fully, but it's there."
For a while, they gazed at one another in silence. The tension wasn't solely due to the evening's occurrences; it stemmed from the heavy load of unspoken words and the gradual transition from contempt to something entirely different.
Finally, Ozai spoke, his voice firmer now.
"You will remain under increased guard until this threat is dealt with. I will not tolerate chaos in my court."
Rivka inclined his head slightly, though his expression was tinged with weariness.
"Chaos is inevitable in a place like this, Ozai. The court isn't so different from the battlefield; it's just the weapons that change."
Ozai's lips pressed into a thin line, but there was no rebuttal this time. Rivka stood, bowing slightly before turning to leave.
As he stepped into the hallway, the first rays of dawn spilled across the palace, painting the stone walls in hues of gold and crimson. Rivka paused, closing his eyes for a moment.
He was no longer merely fighting for survival. Instead, he was maneuvering through a war of ideals, a battleground where each step held significance. Somewhere in the depths of his soul, tethered to his own, Ozai was beginning to feel it, too.
Rivka made his way back toward his quarters, but something felt... different. The guards escorting him took an unfamiliar turn, their polished boots clicking against the stone floors. He realised something had changed when they stopped before a set of carved double doors, far more ornate than his previous accommodations.
"This isn't my room," Rivka said, his tone cautious as he gestured to the doors.
The lead guard, a young woman with a steely gaze, inclined her head, "Your belongings have been moved, Master Rivka. The Fire Lord ordered it after the incident."
The words hung heavy in the air. Rivka opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. Of course, he would. This wasn't just about security; it was about control and ensuring that any future threats were met under Ozai's watchful eye.
Rivka nodded curtly and stepped inside.
The room was far grander than his previous quarters. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, the bed draped in crimson silk. A low table sat near the bay window, with a fresh pitcher of water and a tray of sliced fruit placed neatly atop it. Golden lanterns cast a warm glow across the space, making it feel far too luxurious for a man who had spent most of his life in tents or sparsely furnished rooms.
As Rivka shut the door, the soulmark stirred subtly, sending a ripple of sensation through his chest.
Chapter 17: The Tides Begin to Shift
Chapter Text
It was subtle, as it often was a distant thrum of emotion, like the echo of a drumbeat. Ozai's feelings weren't sharp or defined, but Rivka had grown used to interpreting them over the weeks.
Tonight, an unsettling feeling lingered in the air. It wasn't anger, which Rivka might have anticipated, nor the chilling deliberation often exuded by Ozai. Instead, it was a subdued mix of leftover panic, frustration, and something Rivka was hesitant to identify. Maybe it was concern? Or perhaps just a recognition of vulnerability, of the crack in the palace's defenses?
Rivka let out a slow breath and crossed the room, setting his hands on the windowsill. The night air was cool against his skin, a welcome reprieve from the weight of the evening. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations from the soulmark, trying to untangle the emotions that weren't entirely his own.
He's not used to this, Rivka thought. Not used to cracks in his control, to uncertainty. And maybe... not used to me.
Turning back to the room, Rivka sank into one of the cushioned chairs near the table. His gaze swept over the space, taking in its unnecessary extravagance. This wasn't for his comfort; it was a message, a calculated gesture. He'd been moved closer to the royal family's wing but not within it. Still an outsider, yet... not so far removed as before.
He would learn later, through idle conversation with a servant, that his new quarters were near Iroh's rooms. The knowledge brought a small measure of comfort, though it was tinged with wariness. Rivka wasn't naïve. Being closer to Iroh meant being closer to Zuko and, indirectly, to Azula. The family dynamics in the palace were like smouldering embers; one wrong step could ignite them.
Rivka leaned back, resting his head against the chair. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but one sentiment rose above the rest. He was tired not just physically but in a way that went deeper into the marrow of his being. The past few months had been a relentless push and pull, from warrior to prisoner to guest to this strange, undefined space between adversary and confidant.
And yet, despite the exhaustion, there was a flicker of something else.
Through the soulmark, Rivka glimpsed Ozai's true barriers—not those shown to his court or family, but the ones he surrounded himself with. The subtle hints of doubt and brief flashes of raw emotion revealed cracks Rivka hadn't anticipated, leaving him in contemplation.
What was he to Ozai, truly? A soulmate, yes, but that was a title more than anything. Did Ozai see him as a threat, a challenge, a curiosity? Or was there something deeper, something the Fire Lord himself hadn't yet named?
Rivka's fingers brushed the edge of the table, his thoughts settling on an idea. The next time he spoke with Ozai, perhaps he would avoid the weighty topics, ideologies, and philosophies that so often turned their conversations into battles of wit.
Instead, Rivka thought, he might let Ozai glimpse simpler things. He didn't know if Ozai would listen, much less care, but Rivka was beginning to understand something important. If they were to make sense of this connection, it wouldn't be through grand gestures or political maneuvering. It would be through small things, such as human things.
And maybe, just maybe, Ozai was beginning to realise that too.
Rivka was still getting used to the new wing when he noticed Iroh walking down the corridor, moving leisurely with his hands clasped behind his back. Although the general wore a calm expression, Rivka sensed a brief flash of discomfort in Iroh's amber eyes when they locked gazes.
"Master Rivka," Iroh greeted warmly, inclining his head, "It seems you have been moved closer to us."
"It appears so," Rivka responded with a slight smile, "A surprise, though not unwelcome. It's calmer here."
Iroh chuckled softly, though there was a note of seriousness beneath his mirth.
"Closer to family, they might say. Have you had breakfast yet? I was about to brew some tea and could use the company."
The offer was casual, but Rivka recognized the intent behind it. Iroh wanted to talk.
"I wouldn't turn down tea from a man known for his expertise," he said with a nod.
Iroh led him to his quarters, the warm, inviting scent of jasmine tea filling the room as they settled at the low table.
"Has the palace settled since the... excitement?" Iroh asked, pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups.
"As much as it ever will," Rivka replied, his tone even, "I've been in places where peace is an illusion, General. This is no different. The attack only confirmed that."
Iroh studied him carefully before taking a sip of tea.
"You speak as one who knows battle intimately."
"I do," Rivka admitted, "But battlefields are often clearer than places like this. Here, it's harder to know where the enemy truly lies."
The corners of Iroh's mouth tightened, though his expression remained kind.
"You see much, Master Rivka. Too much, perhaps. It is a heavy burden, but you seem to carry it well."
Rivka shook his head lightly, gazing into his cup.
"I carry it because I must, not because I wish to. I didn't choose this path," He hesitated, then added, "But I think I can survive it. I always have."
"Survival is admirable," Iroh said softly, "But living is another matter entirely."
Despite his calm demeanour, Rivka could sense an undercurrent in Iroh's words, a quiet unease that the elder man was careful not to show. It was in the way his fingers lingered on the teacup, the slight furrow of his brow when he thought Rivka wasn't looking.
"They didn't speak," Rivka said, his voice measured, "Not until the guards got to them. Fire Nation supremacists, they said. No room for outsiders in the court, much less at the Fire Lord's side."
Iroh's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"A dangerous mindset, but one that has festered in certain circles for generations."
Rivka leaned back slightly, cradling the teacup in his hands.
"It's a lesson I learned long ago: sometimes, the greatest threat isn't on the battlefield. It's at your back, in the shadows."
Iroh's lips formed a tight line, creating a brief moment of silence between the two men. Finally, Iroh spoke, his voice gentle yet resolute.
"You must not let them unnerve you, Rivka. The Fire Lord chose to move you closer to this wing for a reason. You are not alone in this."
Rivka raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.
"You sound as though you're trying to reassure me, General."
"Maybe I am," Iroh's smile brightened, this time truly sincere, "But I'm also keeping that in mind."
Later, when Rivka took to his study for hours at a time, he submerged himself largely into his speech. Ink stained his hands, and crumpled parchment littered his floor. His nack ached from being cocked at an angle over the table.
The assassination attempt had left its mark, but Rivka refused to let fear dictate his approach. Still, it had made him reconsider how he would present himself to the Fire Nation. He'd initially planned to focus on unity, on blending the ideals of the Water Tribes and the Fire Nation into something stronger.
Now, though, he wondered if that would resonate with a nation so steeped in pride and tradition.
Sitting at his desk, Rivka drafted and redrafted his speech, shifting his tone toward shared strength rather than unity. He spoke of respecting differences and honouring the traditions that made the Fire Nation strong while subtly urging them to expand their perspective.
The words were careful, deliberate. He couldn't afford to misstep, not now.
Through the soulmark, Rivka occasionally felt a flicker of Ozai's presence, sharp and restless, as though the Firelord himself was grappling with his thoughts. Rivka wondered what Ozai truly wanted from him beyond the political advantages of their bond. Maybe it was time to reveal the simpler truths about himself, the man beyond the strategist and the master.
In the days leading up to the announcement, Rivka found himself increasingly crossing paths with the Fire Lord's children.
One afternoon, Rivka stumbled upon Zuko in the training yard, practising his Firebending forms. The boy's movements were precise, though the intensity of his strikes suggested something deeper than simple discipline. Rivka stood quietly at the edge of the yard, watching as Zuko released a powerful blast of flame that left the air humming with heat.
"You hold your breath when you strike," Rivka observed, his tone mild but loud enough to carry.
Zuko spun, startled, his golden eyes narrowing when he saw who had spoken.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing," Rivka said with a shrug, stepping closer, "Just thought you might want to breathe. Firebending is tied to breath, isn't it?"
Zuko's glare faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty, "What do you know about Firebending?"
"Not much," Rivka admitted, "But I know about controlling energy. Breathing helps."
He gestured toward the scorch marks on the training dummies, "You're strong, but you're wasting energy with every strike."
Zuko bristled, his jaw tightening, but he didn't argue. Instead, he turned back to the dummies and, after a moment, released a controlled, steady flame.
"Better," Rivka said, nodding, "Don't let the fire control you."
Zuko didn't respond, but Rivka thought he saw the boy's shoulders relax slightly.
Later that evening, Rivka encountered Azula in the grand hall. She was surrounded by attendants, her sharp voice carrying as she issued orders for the upcoming ceremony. When she noticed Rivka approaching, her eyes narrowed, and a more predatory than polite smile curved her lips.
"Master Rivka," she said smoothly, dismissing her attendants with a flick of her hand, "How fortunate that we meet."
"Princess Azula," Rivka replied, inclining his head, "Your preparations seem... thorough."
"Perfection is a hallmark of the Fire Nation," Azula said, her tone saccharine, "Though I imagine that's a foreign concept to you."
Rivka chuckled softly, unruffled by her barb.
"Perfection is an illusion, Princess. Even the most polished diamond has flaws."
Azula's smile didn't waver, but her gaze sharpened.
"Perhaps. But we are taught to make those flaws invisible," She tilted her head, studying him, "Do you believe your speech will impress my father?"
"It's not my goal to impress him," Rivka said, meeting her gaze evenly, "Only to speak the truth."
Azula's laughter was light and mocking.
"Truth. An amusing concept in the Fire Nation. I'll be watching Master Rivka closely. Let's see if your truth can survive in the palace."
As she walked away, Rivka exhaled, the encounter leaving a faint unease in its wake. The siblings were as different as night and day, yet both carried a weight of expectation that twisted them in unique ways.
Rivka returned to his chambers that evening, the weight of the week pressing down on him. His new quarters were quiet, though not isolated. The subtle hum of life from the nearby rooms reminded him of his proximity to Iroh, Zuko, and Azula and his precarious position.
Upon crossing the threshold, the soulmark stirred once more, subtle yet persistent. Rivka halted, pressing a hand against his chest as Ozai's emotions, now familiar, pulsed into his consciousness.
Unease, tinged with frustration, and something softer, confusion, perhaps. It was like trying to read the shifting tides by starlight: subtle, elusive, but not impossible.
Rivka exhaled slowly and stepped onto the balcony. The cool night air caressed his skin, centering him. With his eyes closed, he concentrated on the feelings from the soulmark, attempting to understand the emotions weaving through his chest.
Ozai wasn't used to this vulnerability. The attack had shaken more than the palace walls; it had cracked something deeper, something that even the Fire Lord's unyielding pride couldn't entirely mask.
Turning back to the room, Rivka sank into the cushioned chair by the desk. His eyes drifted to the pile of drafts and ink-stained parchment scattered across the table. He'd spent days refining his speech, but now, doubt crept in on the eve of the announcement.
The assassination attempt had shifted everything. What if the court saw his presence as a weakness in Ozai's reign? What if his words alienated the very people he needed to reach?
Through the soulmark, a flicker of emotion, curiosity, maybe even anticipation nudged at his thoughts. Rivka frowned, wondering if Ozai was thinking of him, of the announcement, or something else entirely.
He reached for a fresh sheet of parchment, smoothing it out before dipping his brush in ink. This time, his words flowed differently. He wrote for the Fire Lord and the people who might one day see him as more than an outsider.
Chapter 18: The Announcement
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The grand stairwell of the Fire Nation Palace was alive with tension and anticipation. Rows of torches lined the path leading to the upper balcony, their flames casting flickering shadows against the deep crimson and gold of the palace walls. Below, a sea of Fire Nation citizens filled the courtyard; their faces upturned toward the balcony where Firelord Ozai and Rivka stood. Behind them, courtiers and generals formed a rigid line, their expressions ranging from measured interest to subtle discontent. The group of Fire Sages that looked to hold the second-largest majority opinion lurked in their robes all around the platform.
Ozai stood tall and imposing at the edge of the stairwell, his aura commanding absolute attention. His deep red robes, lined with gold thread and the Fire Nation crest, gleamed in the light. Rivka stood beside him, his Water Tribe-inspired attire striking a sharp but deliberate contrast. The deep blue of his robes, embroidered with gold that mirrored Ozai's, was a reminder of both his foreign origins and his unique place in the Fire Nation.
When Ozai raised his hand, the murmurs of the crowd died instantly. His voice rang out, deep and unyielding.
"My people," he started, "You have consistently looked to your Fire Lord for strength, guidance, and an unyielding dedication to our nation's success. Today, I come before you to share news that will define our future and the legacy we will create together."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward Rivka with a controlled sweep of his hand.
"This is Rivka of the Water Tribe, my soulmate, a bond decreed by forces beyond our understanding. It is a connection that crosses national, traditional, and ideological boundaries. His presence here is not one of mere coincidence, nor is it one of submission."
Ozai's gaze swept over the crowd, his words heavy with command.
"Rivka stands beside me not as an outsider but as an ally. His strength and wisdom have already proven their worth, and his perspective challenges us to refine our own. He is not here to alter who we are but to amplify what makes the Fire Nation mighty."
The crowd reacted to his words, whispers spreading among the gathered citizens like flames. Ozai retreated slowly, intentionally yielding the stage to Rivka. This slight yet significant shift symbolised Rivka's importance in the announcement. Rivka advanced, hands clasped before him. The sun reflected off the golden details of his robe, and he appeared both calm and determined.
When he spoke, his voice carried a steady rhythm, not the booming force of Ozai but a measured strength that demanded attention.
"Fire Lord Ozai has spoken of our bond, one that connects us in ways even we are still discovering," Rivka began, his gaze sweeping from the gathered citizens below to the court behind him, "But this bond is not a simple one, nor is it without its trials. It is a challenge, a call to rise above what is comfortable, to question what we hold as truth, and to consider how we define strength."
Rivka paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"To the Fire Lord, I say this: my presence here is not to mirror your power but to complement it. I am not here to be your shadow nor to oppose you for the sake of opposition. I am here to stand beside you as a partner who will question, provoke, and push us both to see beyond the horizon."
The court behind him shifted slightly, the subtle rustling of robes betraying their discomfort at Rivka's boldness.
"To the Fire Nation," Rivka continued, his voice rising slightly, "I say: I do not come here to change who you are. Your history, your traditions, and your fire are not things to be discarded. They are the foundation of your greatness, but foundations are not enough. A strong house must continue to be built, brick by brick, reaching toward the sky."
He stepped closer to the edge of the balcony, meeting the eyes of the citizens below.
"I come here not as a Water Tribe warrior, not as a master of bending, but as a man who has seen the cost of division and the price of stagnation. My bond with the Fire Lord is a chance for all of us to grow, not by forgetting our differences but by embracing them as a source of strength."
The crowd murmured again, the sound a mix of awe and uncertainty.
"I will not pretend this will be easy," Rivka said, his tone softening slightly, "Change never is. But I stand here today because I believe in the potential of this bond, not just for the Fire Lord and me, but for what it represents to this nation and its future. Together, we can create something stronger, something lasting. But that will require courage, not just from me, the Fire Lord, and all of us."
He stepped back, bowing his head briefly to the crowd before turning toward Ozai. The Fire Lord met his gaze, the soul mark thrumming faintly, pulsing with shared understanding, though neither would name it aloud.
Ozai stepped forward again, his voice cutting through the murmurs.
"Master Rivka speaks of challenges, and I will tell you this: challenges are what make us stronger. The Fire Nation does not shy away from adversity. We conquer it. Together, we will show the world what true strength looks like."
The crowd erupted into applause, some hesitant, others more fervent. Rivka turned to the court, his expression unreadable as he gauged their reactions. Iroh was smiling faintly, his approval subtle but clear. Zuko looked thoughtful, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Azula's gaze was sharp, her expression inscrutable, but there was perhaps a glint of something curious in her amber eyes.
As the applause cascaded around them, Rivka sensed the significance of the moment enveloping him. This was just the start. In the stillness behind closed doors, the real difficulties awaited in the nuanced changes of power and perception, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. He had spoken his truth and done so beside a man who, for all his faults, seemed willing to listen, at least for now.
Rivka mostly observed while a few others spoke, including the Fire Sages discussing their spiritual beliefs, along with another council member. The crowd below appeared focused solely on him and Ozai. Meanwhile, Rivka felt an unsettling prickle on his skin until they were led away from the stage and back towards the Palace.
The room Rivka had been assigned in the Fire Nation Palace was surprisingly modest for someone in his position. The walls were adorned with intricate red and gold tapestries, and a low-burning brazier cast a soft orange glow over the space. A small table held a steaming pot of tea, its earthy aroma mingling with the faint scent of incense. Despite the palace's grandeur outside, the room was quiet, almost contemplative, a space Rivka appreciated after the evening's formalities.
He sat cross-legged on a mat near the brazier, his hands cupped around a porcelain teacup. His ceremonial robes had been replaced with simpler attire: a loose blue tunic and dark trousers. The weight of the day's events lingered on his shoulders, though he carried it with the same steady grace he had displayed throughout the announcement.
A knock at the door disrupted the calm. Rivka straightened, setting the teacup down with deliberate care.
"Enter," he called, his voice measured.
The door creaked open to reveal Ozai, still in some of his ceremonial robes but without the heavy outer robe he had worn earlier. He looked different in this light, less like the untouchable Fire Lord and more like a man. His eyes still burned with intensity, but there was a faint weariness to his expression as though the evening's events had drained even him.
Rivka stood and offered a polite bow, "Fire Lord."
Ozai waved the gesture away as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"There's no need for formalities between us here," he said, his tone carrying a hint of something softer than his usual command.
Rivka arched a brow but said nothing, gesturing instead to the cushions near the brazier, "Tea?"
Ozai hesitated for a moment before nodding, "Yes."
Rivka poured a second cup and handed it to Ozai, who sat stiffly on the cushion across from him. For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the soft crackle of the brazier.
"I don't suppose you expected this kind of reception," Ozai said finally, his gaze fixed on the tea in his hands.
"No," Rivka admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "But I've learned to expect the unexpected."
Another silence fell, heavier this time. Rivka could sense the weight of unspoken thoughts in the air, the subtle tension that came with two people unaccustomed to such proximity. Deciding to break it, he leaned back slightly, his tone thoughtful.
"I imagine you're wondering why someone like me, a Water Tribe man, would willingly stand here beside you."
Ozai's gaze sharpened, but he said nothing, waiting for Rivka to continue.
"My father was killed in a Fire Nation attack," Rivka said, his voice steady despite the weight of the words.
He didn't look at Ozai, his eyes fixed instead on the brazier's flickering flame.
"I was a boy then, too young to fight but old enough to remember. He died defending our village. My mother... she was strong at first, but grief is a relentless tide. It pulled her under, and not long after, I was alone."
Ozai's expression remained impassive, though something flickered in his eyes, perhaps recognition or something more inscrutable.
Rivka continued, his voice lowering, "Waterbending served as my refuge, providing purpose and a means to express what I struggled to articulate; when that fell short, I sought solace in strategy and tactics. I figured if I couldn't halt the losses in my life, I might be able to protect others from experiencing the same suffering."
He glanced at Ozai then, his expression unreadable, "And now, fate has placed me here, beside the man who leads the nation that took them from me."
The brazier crackled softly, its flames casting shifting patterns of light across their faces.
Ozai didn't immediately respond. He took a slow sip of his tea, his gaze fixed on Rivka as though weighing his words carefully. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured, but not without a trace of something human.
"You speak of loss as though it defines you," Ozai said, "Yet here you are, standing tall, commanding respect even in my court. You've turned what could have broken you into strength. That is admirable."
Rivka tilted his head slightly, studying Ozai, "And you? What has loss made of you?"
Ozai's expression hardened for a moment, his guard snapping back into place.
"Loss is a lesson, nothing more. It teaches us where we are weak and shows us how to grow stronger. I do not linger on it."
Rivka hummed thoughtfully, "Perhaps, but even lessons demand reflection, Fire Lord. Without it, they are just our pains dressed as wisdom."
Ozai's jaw tightened, but he didn't lash out. Instead, he set his teacup down and leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto Rivka's.
"Do you blame me for their deaths?"
Rivka met his gaze evenly, "I blame the fire that consumed them, not the hand that lit the spark. Something that took me a long time to separate, but that fire burns brighter in your nation than anywhere else. The question is whether you can wield it without destroying yourself in the process."
The words hung in the air, heavy with challenge and something almost akin to hope.
For a long moment, neither man said a word. Then Ozai stood, his movements deliberate.
"You are bold," he said, his tone carrying a faint edge, "That may serve you well here, or it may be your undoing."
Rivka inclined his head, a faint smile playing at his lips, "Perhaps, but I suspect we'll both learn from the experience, one way or another."
Ozai's lips curled slightly, revealing the faintest smirk before he returned to his familiar stoic demeanour. Without uttering another word, he exited, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.
Rivka stayed put, gazing into the flickering flames of the brazier. The fire swayed and changed like the man who had just departed. It was a hazardous force, yet one that could offer warmth as readily as it could cause devastation.
And for the first time, Rivka allowed himself to wonder which path their bond would take.
Notes:
This chapter might read a bit awkwardly, but I don't want to overwork it, so I'll leave it as is. Hope it was enjoyable!
Might upload a bit more for Easter break :)
Chapter 19: Whispers of Jasmine
Notes:
Thank you for all the comments recently!!!
Happy Easter!!
Chapter Text
The grandeur of the Fire Nation's royal court was a spectacle that Rivka was still getting used to. Every gilded pillar and crimson tapestry seemed to vibrate with a sense of dominance and power, a sharp contrast to the serene, fluid simplicity of the Water Tribe halls he once knew. Today's court session was no different, the air thick with the hum of politics and tension.
Standing beside Ozai's imposing throne, Rivka felt the weight of many eyes upon him. The Fire Lord's decision to keep him in such a prominent place had sent ripples through the court. Some watched him with suspicion, others with barely concealed disdain. He was an outsider, a Water Tribe warrior in the heart of the Fire Nation, whose very presence was an affront to their imperial pride. Ozai's deep voice echoed through the war council chamber.
"Our campaign progresses steadily. Soon, Ba Sing Se will fall, and the Earth Kingdom will crumble beneath our might."
The assembled generals cheered, but Rivka's silence was noticeable. When the noise subsided, Ozai's gaze shifted to him.
"Rivka, you have observed much in your time here. Do you not find our strategy to your tastes?"
The generals turned to Rivka, their expressions ranging from curiosity to barely veiled hostility. Rivka's blue eyes met Ozai's unflinching. He knew this was a test that Ozai expected him to rise to.
"Your military strategy is undeniably effective, Fire Lord," Rivka began, calm yet firm, "But conquest without stability breeds rebellion. Ba Sing Se may fall, but if the people are left in despair, your victory will become an unending struggle to maintain control."
A murmur rippled through the court. One general, bold enough to voice the sentiment shared by many, stepped forward.
"And what would a Water Tribe warrior know of governing an empire?"
Rivka's lips twitched into a faint smile.
"I know that no leader, no matter how powerful, can rule alone. If you seek to build an enduring legacy, Fire Lord, it must offer more than fear."
The tension in the room was palpable, but Ozai did not rebuke him. Instead, he leaned back on his throne, his expression unreadable.
"An interesting perspective," he said at last, "One we shall consider."
The session continued, but Rivka's words lingered in the air, much to the court's discomfort. By the time it ended, the generals' glances were sharper, their whispers louder. Rivka had made his mark, and not everyone was pleased.
Later that evening, the tension spilled into the royal gardens, where Iroh found Rivka seated by a koi pond, his posture relaxed but his expression pensive. The elder General approached with his teacup in hand and sat beside him.
"You have stirred the hornet's nest, my friend," Iroh said, a note of amusement in his tone.
Rivka chuckled softly, "It seems the court isn't fond of hearing that fear alone won't sustain an empire."
Iroh's gaze softened.
"They fear you and not without reason. Your influence over my brother grows, even if he does not yet fully realise it, but I must warn you, Rivka: tread carefully. Ozai does not take kindly to being challenged, even subtly."
Rivka's smile faded, "I know, but if I don't speak, who will? Someone needs to remind him that power isn't everything."
Their conversation was interrupted by Zuko's arrival. His expression was stormy. He stopped a few paces away, his gaze flicking between the two men.
"Uncle, why are you wasting your time with him?" Zuko's tone was sharp, his words laced with suspicion, "He's manipulating Father, trying to stop our success."
Rivka stood, his movements deliberate, and met Zuko's glare.
"If speaking the truth is manipulation, then perhaps your father needs to hear more of it."
Zuko's fists clenched, "You don't understand anything about us, about what we've been through."
"You're right," Rivka said evenly, "I wasn't here when your family was torn apart, but I've seen enough to know that the path your father walks will lead to more suffering for all of you."
Zuko opened his mouth to retort, but Iroh touched his shoulder gently.
"Come, nephew. Master Rivka speaks from experience, not malice. Perhaps we should listen."
Zuko hesitated, then turned and walked away, his frustration evident. Iroh sighed and looked back at Rivka.
"He is young and angry, but there is hope for him yet."
"Hope," Rivka echoed, his gaze returning to the koi pond, "That's all I'm trying to offer."
The next morning, Rivka entered the war room, the weight of the Fire Nation's ambitions heavy on his shoulders. The grand chamber was illuminated by the light of roaring flames, casting flickering shadows over the massive world map that dominated the central table. Ozai stood at the head, flanked by his generals and advisors, their faces set with determination.
Rivka's presence caused a brief pause as the generals exchanged wary glances. Ozai gestured for him to step closer, his expression unreadable.
"Today, we formalise your role," Ozai announced, commanding, "Rivka of the Water Tribe will serve as my advisor. His insights have already proven valuable, and his perspective will strengthen our efforts."
The generals murmured their assent, though not without reluctance. Rivka inclined his head in acknowledgment and then looked at the map. The Earth Kingdom colonies were marked in red, their borders expanding with every passing season. Yet Rivka could see the fractures beneath the surface, the instability lurking within the Fire Nation's conquests. He really was risking a lot by playing politics in the war room.
"If I may," Rivka began, his voice steady, "The colonies in the Earth Kingdom are stretched thin. Resources are overextended, and the people, both Fire Nation settlers and Earth Kingdom citizens, are growing restless. Adding Ba Sing Se and Omashu to that list without addressing these issues will only amplify the strain."
One general frowned, "You underestimate the strength of our forces. The colonies will fall in line as they always have."
"Perhaps," Rivka replied, "But what is the purpose of these conquests? If it is to bring the Fire Nation's vision of prosperity to the world, then the current approach is unsustainable. Fear and force may win battles, but they will not win loyalty. What happens when rebellion spreads faster than your armies can suppress it?"
Ozai's gaze was sharp, but he did not interrupt. Rivka pressed on, his tone measured but insistent.
"Victory isn't just about defeating enemies; it's about building a world where they no longer wish to oppose you. If we do not address the quality of life in the colonies, we risk creating a legacy of conflict rather than unity."
The room was silent for a moment, the tension thick. Then Ozai spoke, his voice slow and deliberate, "You suggest that the Fire Nation's methods are flawed."
Rivka met his gaze, unflinching.
"I suggest that they could be refined. The Fire Nation has the strength to conquer, but true strength lies in maintaining what you've conquered. If the colonies are to serve the Fire Nation's goals, they must be more than outposts of control and thrive under your rule."
A ripple of unease ran through the room. One of the older generals, his face lined with years of battle, stepped forward.
"With respect, Fire Lord, this outsider questions our traditions. He speaks of unity but does not understand the Fire Nation's ways."
Ozai raised a hand, silencing the general. His gaze remained fixed on Rivka, piercing and unreadable.
"And yet, his words carry weight. The colonies have faced increasing unrest. If his insights can prevent rebellion, they may be worth considering."
The generals murmured among themselves, but no one dared challenge Ozai's decision outright. Rivka, sensing an opportunity, pressed on.
"Ba Sing Se is a fortress symbolising Earth Kingdom resilience. Conquering it will send a message, but how you govern it afterwards will define the Fire Nation's legacy. Will it be a legacy of endless war or a vision of lasting order?"
Ozai leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming with intensity, "And what would you have me do, Rivka? What would you advise?"
Rivka's pulse quickened, but he maintained his calm demeanour.
"Establish systems that integrate the colonies into the Fire Nation rather than alienate them. Invest in infrastructure, ensure food security, and provide opportunities for advancement. Show the people that their lives improve under Fire Nation rule."
A younger general scoffed.
"You speak of compassion amid war. Such ideals have no place here."
"Compassion is not weakness," Rivka countered, his voice firm, "It is strategy. A well-fed, secure populace has no reason to rebel. They become your strength, not your liability."
Ozai considered Rivka's words for a long moment. Then, with a nod, he turned to his generals.
"We will revisit our plans for the colonies. Rivka's perspective offers a new angle worth exploring. Prepare reports on the current state of our settlements and potential avenues for strengthening their integration."
The room buzzed with activity as the generals began to discuss logistics, but Rivka's attention remained on Ozai. The Fire Lord's expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface: curiosity, perhaps, or grudging respect.
As the meeting adjourned, Ozai approached Rivka, his towering presence casting a long shadow.
"You tread a fine line, Rivka," he said quietly, his voice low and edged with warning, "Be careful not to overstep."
Rivka inclined his head, "I speak only what I believe to be true. You asked for my counsel, and I will not offer anything less."
Ozai studied him for a moment longer, then turned and strode from the room. Rivka watched him go, the weight of his words settling over him. His role as an advisor was not without risk, but if there were a chance to steer the Fire Nation toward a more sustainable path, he would take it.
In the corridor, Rivka paused by a window overlooking the capital. The city was alive with activity, its people bustling below. He thought of the colonies, of the lives caught in the crossfire of war and ambition. His path was fraught with danger, but it was a path he could not abandon.
For now, he had planted a seed of doubt, a whisper of change in the ear of a Fire Lord. Whether it would grow remained to be seen. Over the next day, there was the quiet announcement that Iroh and Zuko were due to depart, likely not on their terms nor Zuko's expectations of being rewarded with a visit home after years of exile.
Rivka felt a bit sorry for the kid. Iroh knew how things were going and had assumed that, even with the pivot in Water Tribe politics, there was a larger game at play in how Ozai treated Zuko. Rivka guessed that he missed his opportunity to wish the two well after his display in the council room. There was, however, a rather quickly inked letter left to him that smelled of jasmine tea.
'Your presence here is a rare and unexpected tide that stirs the still waters of the Fire Nation in ways few could have foreseen. Your words in the council chamber show courage and wisdom, qualities that, while often unappreciated in such a place, are the seeds of true leadership.
My nephew and I leave under circumstances I wish were different. Yet, I have learned that even the harshest journeys carry lessons we do not yet understand. You, too, are on such a journey, Rivka. Your bond with my brother is both a blessing and a challenge. Influencing him to shift his perspective is a task as delicate as balancing on the edge of a blade.
I caution you, however, to tread carefully. Ozai respects strength but is wary of anything that could be perceived as weakness. He listens to you now because you challenge him in ways others dare not. Do not mistake his tolerance for trust; it's a dangerous line to cross.
You must also remember to guard your spirit. The Fire Nation's flames burn hot, and they can consume even the most steadfast of souls if left untended. Hold tight to the lessons of the Water Tribe. Remember the strength in adaptability, the power of resilience, and the importance of balance.
Lastly, know that change is slow, like water carving through stone. Your efforts may seem small at the moment, but over time, they can have a profound impact on the world. Do not lose hope, Rivka. It is a light that must not be extinguished, even in the darkest times.
Though I am leaving, I will not be far from thought. If you ever need counsel or simply the comfort of tea, know you have an ally in me.'
The letter remained unsigned, but Rivka could guess why. If he focused hard enough, the Waterbender could recount his aptitude in reaching into the flow of penned ink. He'd never tried to do something so serious before, but with the risk of nosy eyes finding the letter, he bent water over the ink before allowing the pigments to bleed into the water and lose their shape as words became ink stains. He could carefully reconstruct the ink if he wished, but he tucked the parchment into his bedroom desk and left it there while he sank into a strained sleep.
Chapter 20: Spiralling Plans
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rivka awoke the next day with a bit of fire in his temperament. He recalled with disappointing clarity that he had not yet been brought up to speed on affairs with his homeland. He'd typically send word and slowly work his way towards his answers, but he guessed that he hadn't annoyed General Kaizhu in a while, so he might tolerate a surprise visit.
Rivka's boots echoed sharply against the tiled halls of the Fire Nation palace. The warmth of the volcanic stone beneath his feet contrasted starkly with the frigid ice he'd left behind in the Northern Water Tribe, but he'd long since learned to adapt. He carried himself with purpose; his Water Tribe garb had subtly adapted to Fire Nation aesthetics: thin Water Tribe robes dyed in muted reds and oranges, signifying his tenuous position as both an outsider and a soulmate to the Fire Lord. His wardrobe varied on any given day in terms of colours, no matter how much some of the attendants dealing with his appearance suffered from his indecision.
The guards outside General Kaizhu's quarters stiffened as Rivka approached. One of them opened his mouth, perhaps to inform Rivka that the general was occupied, but the piercing look from Rivka's sharp blue eyes cut him short.
"I won't take much of his time," Rivka said, not slowing.
His tone brooked no argument. The guard hesitated before stepping aside, pushing the door open for him. Kaizhu looked up from a table cluttered with maps and correspondence. The general had his meticulously maintained topknot just a bit loose, and his face showed lines of years of war and worry. He set down his quill, his expression unreadable as Rivka entered unannounced.
"Master Rivka," Kaizhu greeted coolly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I've come for updates on the diplomatic talks with the Northern Water Tribe," Rivka said without preamble, crossing the room to stand before the table.
"The last I heard, progress was being stalled by distractions with the Earth Kingdom negotiations and our announcement. I want to know where things stand now."
Kaizhu's brow furrowed, "With all due respect, those matters are being handled. The Earth Kingdom talks require immediate attention due to their scope-"
"And yet the Northern Water Tribe talks are no less critical," Rivka interrupted, his voice calm but firm, "Every delay risks the fragile goodwill we've built. I left the Northern Tribe convinced that your nation was sincere in pursuing peace. Was that a mistake?"
Kaizhu bristled but composed himself quickly.
"The Fire Lord's orders are clear. All avenues of diplomacy are being pursued. However, I must emphasise that-"
"Emphasise later," Rivka said, leaning over the table to jab a finger at one of the maps, "The Northern Tribe isn't just another chess piece on your board. They're people who've endured your nation's wrath and survived. If these talks falter, it won't just be another skirmish to clean up; it'll be a warfront re-ignited. Is that clear?"
Kaizhu sighed, his frustration evident.
"Your passion is noted, Master Rivka. And now that you've been formally recognised as the Fire Lord's soulmate and advisor, perhaps you might consider taking over these discussions yourself. Your... unique perspective might be better suited to managing them."
Rivka's eyes narrowed. He knew a deflection when he heard one.
"If that's what it takes to ensure progress, then I'll do it. But I need assurances that the Fire Nation is committed. Too much hinges on this for half-measures."
Kaizhu hesitated, then nodded, "I'll arrange for a briefing to bring you up to speed."
Satisfied for now, Rivka stepped back, but as he turned to leave, Kaizhu spoke again.
"There is another matter I suspect you'll want to address personally. General Zhao's... situation."
Rivka paused his hand on the doorframe, "Go on."
"He's being presented as collateral in the talks. A gesture of accountability for his... excesses. The Northern Water Tribe has demanded his removal from any command post, and the Fire Lord has agreed."
Rivka's lips thinned. He could hardly disguise his disdain for the man. Zhao's arrogance and recklessness had nearly cost the tribe everything, and Rivka's intervention had only barely averted disaster.
"And what does Zhao think of this?" Rivka asked.
Kaizhu's mouth twitched in a grim smile, "He's made his objections clear—loudly. But the Fire Lord's will is absolute."
Rivka's mind raced. While the decision was politically savvy, it also had the potential to be a powder keg. Zhao's humiliation would make him dangerous, especially if his ire turned personal.
"Send word to my quarters when the briefing is ready," Rivka said finally. He left without another word, his mind already churning with plans.
As he walked the seemingly empty halls, Rivka wondered what kind of idiot would take on negotiating with his home nation, representing their enemy for the long term while also providing advice on another nation's part in the war. Perhaps the spirits enjoyed watching him tear himself down with stress, as he was still learning a lot about war and politics from a vantage point beside Fire Nation royalty.
Rivka returned to his quarters, his thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and simmering annoyance. The Fire Nation's power games were exhausting, even for someone accustomed to the more understated but no less political machinations of the Water Tribes. He poured himself a cup of tea from the set Ozai had insisted on being brought in for him every morning, a small gesture that Rivka had begrudgingly accepted, and he stared at the curling steam.
The news about Zhao gnawed at him. Rivka had no illusions about the man; he was a blunt instrument, a relic of the Fire Nation's more destructive impulses. But now, stripped of command and dignity, Zhao was a liability and a dangerous one at that. If Rivka had learned anything from his time among the Fire Nation elite, it was that a humiliated man often became a desperate one.
He set his cup down, his mind turning to the Northern Water Tribe. He was sure that the talks could be salvaged, but it would take careful maneuvering. He would need to convince the Tribe that Zhao's demotion was more than a hollow gesture and that the Fire Nation's intentions were genuine. That meant more than words; it meant action.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. He rose, smoothing his robes as he crossed the room.
"Enter," he called.
A young messenger stepped in, bowing low.
"Master Rivka, General Kaizhu requests your presence in the war room. The briefing is prepared."
Rivka nodded, dismissing the messenger with a wave. He grabbed his cloak, which complemented the reds he'd worn today with subtle gold embroidery, another blend of his two worlds, and made his way to the war room.
The room was dimly lit, with the flickering glow of lanterns casting shadows over the map-covered table. General Kaizhu stood at the head, flanked by two aides. Rivka's sharp eyes caught the tension in their stances; whatever news awaited him was likely more complicated than he anticipated.
"Master Rivka," Kaizhu greeted as he entered, gesturing to a chair, "Please, sit."
"Let's not waste time, General. What's the situation?" Rivka remained standing.
Kaizhu sighed but began without protest.
"The Northern Water Tribe has sent word that they're willing to proceed with the talks, but they've made additional demands. They want reparations for Zhao's actions, resources, provisions, and a formal apology from the Fire Nation."
Rivka's brows lifted, "Ambitious, but not unreasonable."
Kaizhu nodded, "Perhaps. But there's more. They've also requested a delegation of Fire Nation engineers and builders to assist with rebuilding infrastructure damaged during the war."
Rivka frowned, his mind racing. The request was bold, but also suggested that the Tribe was serious about peace. Still, such a commitment would be a hard sell to the Fire Nation's leadership, particularly to the more hawkish members of the war council.
"And Zhao?" Rivka asked.
Kaizhu hesitated and then said, "They've demanded he be handed over to them."
"They want Zhao as a prisoner?" Rivka stared, stunned.
"Not explicitly. They've framed it as an act of accountability," Kaizhu explained, "But we both know what it would mean."
Rivka's jaw tightened. As much as he despised Zhao, the thought of handing him over to the Tribe was fraught with complications. It would be a symbolic victory for the Northern Water Tribe, but could also spark unrest within the Fire Nation military, where Zhao still had his supporters.
"And what does the Fire Lord think?" Rivka asked.
"The Fire Lord has yet to make a decision. He's awaiting your input," Kaizhu's expression darkened.
Rivka exhaled slowly, the weight of his position settling heavily on his shoulders. This was the price of his bond with Ozai: not just the responsibility of advising a nation, but the impossible task of balancing the demands of two worlds that saw each other as enemies. That, and making sure people actually told him when his opinion was needed, lest something important slip by his notice.
"I'll need time to consider," Rivka said finally, "But I'll need to speak with Zhao directly."
Kaizhu's brows furrowed, "You think he'll cooperate?"
"Not willingly, but he'll talk," Rivka's lips twisted into a grim smile.
The encounter with Zhao would be the next step in Rivka's plan. He would need to gauge the man's state of mind, anticipate his next moves, and determine whether he could be managed or if he would become a threat that needed to be neutralised.
As Rivka left the war room, his mind was already crafting the conversation, every word a weapon in the delicate dance of politics and survival.
Rivka's boots echoed softly as he strode toward the throne room, his mind churning with purpose. But as he approached the imposing doors, he slowed. Confronting Ozai in the throne room surrounded by advisors, generals, and sycophants was not how he wanted this conversation to unfold.
Instead, Rivka stopped at the entrance guards.
"Inform the Fire Lord that I will be waiting for him in his study at his earliest convenience," Rivka said, his tone even but firm, "I have questions regarding the state of the Northern Water Tribe talks."
The guards exchanged uncertain glances.
One began, "The Fire Lord is in a meeting," but Rivka cut him off with a sharp look.
"Then his study will provide him with a quiet reprieve afterwards," Rivka said smoothly, "Do not delay delivering my message."
Without waiting for a reply, Rivka turned on his heel and made his way toward Ozai's private study. Once inside the lavishly adorned chamber, Rivka wasted no time. He unrolled a scroll on the polished desk, dipped a brush into the inkwell, and began to write. His strokes were quick and deliberate, as though committing his thoughts to paper would help make sense of the chaos surrounding him.
He wrote about the Northern Water Tribe and their precarious position, caught between demands for reparations and their desire for genuine peace. He penned his observations on the Earth Kingdom talks, criticising the Fire Nation's tendency to overreach. Almost as an afterthought, he jotted notes on General Zhao, his recklessness, and how his removal could serve as both a boon and a liability.
Rivka didn't stop there. He allowed his thoughts to wander to larger questions of strategy: What would a genuine alliance with the Water Tribes look like? Could the Fire Nation pivot its image from conqueror to negotiator without losing its iron grip on power? How much of Ozai's ambition could be tempered, or redirected, before the man's pride consumed him?
When he wasn't writing, Rivka made himself at home in a way that bordered on insolence. He pulled a comfortable chair closer to the desk and slouched down casually. A cup of tea sat steaming beside him, pilfered from a corner tray without hesitation. By the time the heavy study doors swung open, Rivka looked completely at ease, leaning back in the chair with his brush poised mid-thought.
Ozai stepped inside, his expression dark. The Fire Lord's eyes swept over the scene, taking in Rivka's relaxed posture, the scattered papers, and the air of calm that starkly contrasted with the simmering irritation radiating from him.
"You're making yourself quite at home," Ozai said, his voice low and clipped.
Rivka set the brush down carefully and met Ozai's gaze with a faint smile.
"I assumed you'd prefer to avoid a public discussion. Besides, your study has a certain charm."
Ozai's jaw tightened, but he moved further into the room, closing the door behind him, "You've interrupted my schedule for this. What is so urgent?"
Though his demeanour remained composed, Rivka straightened, "I need clarity, Ozai. The Northern Water Tribe talks are at a critical juncture, and the Earth Kingdom negotiations are muddying the waters. I cannot represent your interests if I don't know what they truly are."
Ozai arched a brow, his irritation giving way to curiosity.
"And you think cornering me here will earn you answers?"
"I think the Fire Lord values efficiency," Rivka replied smoothly, "And I suspect he'd rather spend five minutes giving me direct instructions than endure weeks of missteps caused by vague orders."
Ozai's lips pressed into a thin line. He stepped around the desk, looming over Rivka, who refused to be cowed.
"You assume much, Rivka. Do not mistake your position for power."
"And do not mistake your soulmate for a pawn," Rivka said evenly, meeting Ozai's gaze without flinching, "I know what's at stake here, for both of us. The Northern Water Tribe needs to see action, not just words. The Earth Kingdom needs to see stability, not chaos. If you want me to navigate these waters, I need to know what you truly want."
Ozai studied him for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. Then, with a rueful sigh, he stepped back and folded his arms.
"Very well. If you insist on prying, I will tell you."
"Good. Let's begin," Rivka nodded, reaching for another sheet of paper.
Their conversation stretched late into the evening, with Rivka questioning Ozai at every turn and meticulously jotting down his answers. By the time the Fire Lord finally left the study, his patience was frayed, and Rivka's notes had grown into a sprawling web of ideas, strategies, and contingencies.
Alone once more, Rivka leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He had gained valuable insight, but knew this was only the beginning. The road ahead would be long and treacherous; he would need every ounce of wit and resolve to walk it.
Notes:
Another chapter for the long weekend!
-21.04.25
Chapter 21: Alignments and Motivations
Chapter Text
Rivka adjusted his robes and descended the steps to the holding chambers where General Zhao was kept. The air grew cooler the deeper he went, though not nearly as cold as the icy halls of his homeland. The guards saluted as he approached, their expressions unreadable, but Rivka could feel the tension in their stances. Even under lock and key, Zhao cast a long shadow.
When the heavy iron door creaked open, Zhao sat on a bench in the dimly lit room, his arms crossed and his expression sour. He looked up at Rivka, his eyes narrowing.
"Well, if it isn't the Fire Lord's new pet," Zhao drawled, his voice dripping with disdain, "What brings you to my humble abode? Come to gloat?"
Rivka ignored the jab and stepped inside, the door closing with a metallic clang behind him. He moved to a nearby stool and sat, folding his hands neatly in his lap.
"I've come to talk," Rivka said simply.
"About what? How are you playing puppet master with the Fire Lord? Or perhaps how you've turned the Northern Water Tribe into some kind of bargaining chip?" Zhao snorted.
Rivka's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level, "I've come to understand your perspective, Zhao. To hear your side of things."
"My side?" Zhao leaned forward, his sneer deepening, "What's there to say? I did what was necessary. I led with strength and vision; now, because of you, I'm rotting in this cell while the Fire Nation panders to the people we were destined to conquer."
Rivka sighed, his gaze steady, "You speak of strength, but all I see is recklessness. Your actions nearly destroyed my homeland. You've become a liability, not just to the Fire Nation, but to any hope of peace."
Zhao's sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of anger.
"And what about you, Rivka? You act so righteous, but don't think I don't see what you're doing. Manipulating the Fire Lord, twisting the war council, reshaping the narrative to suit your own agenda."
Rivka's expression remained calm, though his stomach churned.
"And what agenda would that be, Zhao?"
"Power," Zhao spat, "You're no better than me. You've just chosen a different battlefield. But mark my words: the Fire Nation won't forget what you've done. They'll turn on you the moment it suits them."
Rivka allowed a moment of silence to settle between them, his thoughts racing. Zhao's words stung, not because they were entirely untrue, but because they held a kernel of the truth Rivka had feared to confront.
"You're wrong about one thing," Rivka said finally, his voice quiet but firm. I'm not here for power. I'm here to build something lasting—something better than the cycle of destruction you perpetuate. And if that means enduring the scorn of men like you, so be it."
Zhao barked a bitter laugh, "Keep telling yourself that, Waterbender. Don't forget the Fire Nation doesn't forgive weakness, and they certainly don't forgive outsiders."
After leaving Zhao's cell, Rivka made his way back to his quarters, his mind heavy with the weight of their conversation. He didn't regret confronting Zhao, but the encounter had left him unsettled. There was truth in Zhao's accusations, however twisted. Rivka knew he was walking a dangerous line requiring constant vigilance.
He supposed he'd have to be mindful of his actions toward others now, something he had little experience with as a rebel warrior and even less experience with in a political setting.
Zhao would likely be one of many, if not the Fire Lord himself, who were conditioned into this war as young as babies, watching military achievements and hearing nothing but propaganda. Rivka was a threat to the notion, someone who could not be moulded into another war puppet, and that was risky, as he was preaching in a position where he had very little place to speak anything of the sort.
As he walked the halls away from Zhao's cell, happy to leave his fate to others after he finished his part, he was dimly aware that he might have to get thicker skin before he truly thought to start speaking to anyone from here.
Settling at his desk, he unrolled a fresh scroll and began drafting a letter to Chief Arnook. He chose his words carefully, explaining the current state of negotiations and outlining his hopes for cooperation. The letter was formal yet personal, reflecting the Fire Nation's intentions and Rivka's earnest desire for peace.
Rivka carried the letter to Ozai's study when the ink was dry. The Fire Lord was seated at his desk, reviewing documents, but he looked up as Rivka entered, his expression already touched with annoyance.
"You've come prepared," Ozai remarked, his tone clipped.
"I thought it best we collaborate on this," Rivka said, holding out the scroll, "If the letter is to represent both of us, it should carry your voice as well as mine."
Ozai took the scroll without a word, his sharp eyes scanning the text. As he read, Rivka moved to one of the chairs across from the desk, lowering himself into it with the ease of someone who had made himself at home. The contrast between Ozai's rigid posture and Rivka's relaxed demeanour was almost comical, though neither man acknowledged it.
After a moment, Rivka spoke, his tone soft but deliberate.
"You know, when I was younger, I used to believe the Northern Water Tribe was unshakable. A fortress of ice and tradition, but as I grew older, I realised how fragile it was and how much it depended on unity, on balance. It's why I fight so hard for these talks. I can't let that fragility be exploited again."
Ozai's gaze flicked up from the scroll, his sharp features unreadable. He said nothing, but his grip on the scroll tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I've seen what happens when people are divided," Rivka continued, his voice taking on a quieter, almost confessional tone, "And I've seen what happens when they're left to fend for themselves against overwhelming power. It's not just my tribe I'm trying to protect. It's everyone, the Fire Nation included. I don't want to see the same mistakes repeated. Not by you. Not by me."
Ozai's jaw tightened slightly, but still, he didn't speak. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
"I've aligned myself with you," Rivka said, breaking the stillness, his blue eyes meeting Ozai's golden ones, "Because I believe that even in the heart of fire, there's a spark of potential. That's why I haven't walked away, why I won't."
Ozai's expression wavered for the briefest of moments, his stoic mask betraying something, perhaps confusion, perhaps unease. He looked back down at the scroll, his movements slow and deliberate.
His voice was measured and almost detached when he finally spoke, "The letter will suffice. I'll make the necessary adjustments."
Rivka studied him for a moment longer, debating asking the question at the tip of his tongue.
"Is there a problem?" Ozai asked, his golden gaze edging towards a glare.
"No, just... Did you want to correct it together?" Rivka felt a bit silly, "I would like to learn more about your input if we keep doing this. What better way than to bounce thoughts off each other?"
"You are too forward," Ozai huffed, looking as if he were to start yelling at him.
After a moment's pause, some of the heat dropped from Ozai's expression, and he settled a slightly weathered look at Rivka.
"I will think about it."
"Thank you."
As Rivka turned to leave, he thought he caught the faintest shift in Ozai's posture, as if the Fire Lord were about to say something more, but the moment passed, and the room remained silent.
Rivka didn't press the matter. He had said what he needed to say. Whether Ozai chose to acknowledge it or not was another question entirely. As Rivka lay in bed, Zhao's scornful words churned in his mind, sharp and unrelenting.
"You act so righteous, but don't think I don't see what you're doing. Manipulating the Fire Lord, twisting the war council, reshaping the narrative to suit your own agenda."
Rivka turned over, his jaw tightening as he recalled Zhao's sneer, the accusation laced with venom. Was that fear? The man had accused him of wielding power no differently than he did, of using his influence to bend the Fire Nation to his will.
What had Rivka said in response? Calm, collected words masking the discomfort twisting in his gut. He'd dismissed Zhao's bitterness and challenged him to name his so-called agenda. Even as Zhao spat back his answer, "Power. You're no better than me," something about it had struck a nerve.
Power. The one thing Rivka had never sought for himself and yet had somehow found thrust into his hands. But was he truly as selfless as he wanted to believe? His thoughts flickered to the war council, to the subtle shifts in strategy and philosophy that had come from his presence. He'd challenged their rhetoric, disrupted their plans, and forced them to think differently.
Was that manipulation?
He exhaled slowly, staring at the faint patterns of light and shadow on the ceiling. Zhao's accusations had lingered not because of their venom, but because of their kernel of truth. Rivka had reshaped the narrative. He had used his position beside Ozai to influence decisions, but wasn't that what he'd been brought here to do? To steer the Fire Nation away from the brink and find some path toward peace before the world is torn apart? If the spirits fated him to Ozai for a reason, surely it was to use his sway for something good.
Yet the memory of Ozai's silence earlier cut through his rationalisations like a blade. Rivka had spoken openly, vulnerably, sharing truths he rarely voiced. He'd been honest about his fears, his hope for the Northern Tribe, his deep-seated yearning to preserve his people and stop the destruction spreading across the world.
And Ozai had said nothing.
Rivka rolled onto his side, resting his head against the cool fabric of his pillow. The Fire Lord's silence had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He wanted some acknowledgment and a sign that Ozai understood the weight Rivka carried. That their bond was more than political necessity or the spirits' whimsy.
Instead, he'd been met with that inscrutable gaze, the fire within Ozai seemingly banked but still smouldering. It had been a stark reminder of how precarious their connection was. For all their moments of tenuous understanding, Rivka knew he walked a razor's edge. Ozai's patience was finite, and his tolerance for failure was even more so.
And then there was Zhao's parting blow: "The Fire Nation won't forget what you've done. They'll turn on you the moment it suits them."
Rivka's fingers tightened in the blankets. He had faced distrust and hostility before, but tonight, it felt different. The Fire Nation wasn't his home. Its people weren't his people. If the tides turned, who would stand beside him? Would Ozai?
The thought sent a pang through him, sharp and unwelcome.
Rivka closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He couldn't afford to dwell on doubts, not now. He'd stayed here with a purpose, and despite the accusations and uncertainty, that purpose hadn't changed. He wasn't here for power. He was here to heal, guide, and stop the endless destruction cycle that threatened both their nations.
But tonight, the lines between his purpose and the Fire Nation's reality felt blurred, and for the first time in years, Rivka wasn't entirely sure where he stood.
The next day unfolded with an exhausting, unrelenting rhythm that epitomised Rivka's new life at court. The palace bustled with activity from sunrise, servants and officials alike flitting through the grand halls with purpose. Rivka, clad in his carefully tailored robes blending Water Tribe and Fire Nation aesthetics, felt like both a fixture and an outsider in the thrumming heartbeat of the Fire Nation's capital.
He spent the morning sifting through correspondence, petitions from Fire Nation civilians, reports from commanders at the frontlines, and diplomatic missives from scattered Earth Kingdom factions. Some letters sought his opinion directly, others were marked for Ozai but seemed to demand Rivka's silent review before they were presented. His thoughts on the subtle power shift these missives represented weighed heavily.
After a brief midday meal, Rivka attended the public court proceedings. Ozai wasn't present, leaving General Kaizhu and other senior officials to handle the day's petitions. Rivka stood quietly at the edge of the gathering, observing with practised detachment. His presence alone seemed to unnerve many courtiers, particularly those who had yet to decide if they could trust the Fire Lord's Waterbending soulmate.
He spoke sparingly, offering an occasional comment or suggestion when directly addressed. Rivka noticed a subtle tension in the room whenever his voice cut through the usual cadence of the proceedings. The deference some showed him was edged with wariness.
The afternoon brought a meeting with the palace tutors, who had been tasked with teaching Rivka the finer points of Fire Nation protocol. He listened, scribbling notes while thinking of the letter to Chief Arnook he planned to finalise with Ozai that evening.
Chapter 22: Moonlight Happenings
Notes:
So college has put me in a early grave this week 😴 As for chapters, I have edited enough that as long as I have time to post em, you'll get em.
*if this one formats wrong, I posted from my phone :')
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Rivka stood motionless by the edge of the garden pond, its waters eerily still in the waning light of the evening. The surrounding foliage cast shifting shadows across his face, and he watched the blank surface intently, as though expecting something to break through its placid facade. The faint hum of crickets filled the air, but Rivka's mind was elsewhere, lost in a maelstrom of thoughts. Zhao's accusations and his tangled sense of duty to the Fire Nation weighed heavily on him.
"You look like you're trying to glare the pond back to life," Ozai said in a low voice from behind him.
Rivka didn't flinch, though he hadn't heard the Fire Lord approach. His grip on the polished wooden railing tightened briefly before he turned to face Ozai. The Fire Lord's crimson and gold robes gleamed faintly in the moonlight, his imposing presence somehow softened by the faintest flicker of curiosity in his gaze.
"Hardly," Rivka said with a dry smile, "I wasn't aware I was allowed to bend at all these days, lest it be in self-defence."
Ozai raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until he stood beside Rivka.
"Who said you weren't?"
Rivka gestured vaguely to the pond.
"No one needed to. After the announcement, it became clear there were unspoken rules. A Waterbender soulmate of the Fire Lord doesn't practice bending openly in the heart of the Fire Nation."
Ozai's lips quirked into a faint smirk, "And yet, you've spent the last few weeks 'practising' politics with no restraint. Do you think the palace would collapse if you bent a little water now and then?"
Rivka exhaled a humourless laugh, his gaze returning to the still pond.
"It's not just about bending, Ozai. It's about identity. Bending is a part of who I am, a part that's been... set aside, whether by choice or necessity."
Ozai crossed his arms, studying Rivka's profile.
"You haven't been forbidden to bend, Rivka. If you assumed as much, that's on you."
Rivka glanced at him sharply, his blue eyes narrowing, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Ozai said, his tone deliberate, "That if you've felt constrained, it's because you've allowed yourself to be. Your bending is yours. If you've neglected it, perhaps you've forgotten its purpose."
Rivka's jaw tightened, "What do you propose? That I start a demonstration here in the garden for the sake of showmanship?"
"Not here," Ozai replied, his voice dipping into a challenge, "We shall have a sparring match. Full bending, no restraints."
The suggestion left Rivka momentarily stunned, "You want to spar with me? Using bending?"
Ozai's smirk widened slightly, and a flicker of flame danced briefly across his fingertips, "Are you afraid you'll lose?"
Rivka snorted, a flicker of his old confidence surfacing, "I'm more concerned about whether the Fire Lord can handle a bit of water in his face."
Ozai's eyes gleamed, "Then let's see if you've been wasting your time here, Rivka, or if you still have the edge that caught my attention in the first place."
Rivka hesitated, glancing once more at the still pond before nodding.
"Fine, but don't hold back. I won't."
"I wouldn't expect you to," Ozai said, turning on his heel and leading Rivka toward the palace's private training grounds.
The tension between them was electric, their unspoken rivalry and burgeoning connection fueling what would undoubtedly be a clash that neither would soon forget. The private training grounds were illuminated by the flickering glow of lanterns, their light casting long shadows on the polished stone floor. Rivka stepped onto the open space, his robes discarded for the plain, sleeveless garb he wore beneath. The cool air kissed his skin, but he barely felt it. Across from him, Ozai stood poised, his arms crossed, flames licking at the edges of his fingertips in anticipation.
"You've been quiet, Rivka," Ozai said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of challenge, "Let's see if water speaks louder than words."
Rivka didn't rise to the taunt. Instead, he bent slightly at the knees, his hands moving in a fluid circle. The air around him grew colder, and from the nearby fountain, tendrils of water snaked upward, swirling around him like restless spirits.
Ozai wasted no time. He thrust his arm forward, sending a blazing arc of fire directly at Rivka. The Waterbender reacted instantly, sweeping his arm upward to draw a shield of water that hissed and steamed as the flames struck.
"Still quick," Ozai remarked, his tone almost approving.
Rivka didn't reply. He pivoted on his heel, sending the shield spiralling outward. The water transformed into icy shards that shot toward Ozai like daggers. Ozai deflected them with a controlled blast of heat, his movements precise, his expression composed.
As the exchange intensified, their bending became a symphony of opposites. Rivka's movements were graceful, flowing like the tides, while Ozai's were sharp, deliberate, and explosive. Water danced in the air, meeting fire in clashes that sent steam billowing around them.
For Rivka, the fight was both exhilarating and bittersweet. The act of bending felt like rediscovering a part of himself he'd neglected. The water responded to his will effortlessly, as though eager to remind him of its power. Yet Zhao's words lingered in his mind, a shadow over his confidence. Was this just another manipulation? Another way to impose himself on a nation that would never truly accept him?
Ozai, on the other hand, watched Rivka closely, his strikes testing and probing. The Waterbender's skill was undeniable, but there was something else: exhaustion, a hesitation, as though Rivka were holding something back.
"You're distracted," Ozai said, sidestepping a surge of water that struck the ground with a resounding crash.
Rivka's eyes narrowed, "Or maybe you're underestimating me."
With a sudden burst of effort, Rivka leapt backward, raising a column of water beneath him that propelled him high into the air. He twisted gracefully, sending a powerful wave crashing down toward Ozai.
Ozai planted his feet and thrust both arms upward. Flames erupted around him, roaring to life and meeting the wave in an explosion of steam. The sound was deafening, the heat suffocating, but both men stood their ground unharmed, breathing heavily when the mist cleared.
For a moment, neither moved. The world seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the mingled energy of their bending.
"You've been holding back," Ozai said finally, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative.
"So have you," Rivka countered, lowering his arms but keeping his stance guarded.
Ozai regarded him for a long moment, his gaze unreadable.
"You fight like someone who's always looking over his shoulder. Stop doing that."
Rivka blinked, caught off guard by the remark. Before he could respond, Ozai extinguished the flames in his hands and turned away.
"Enough for tonight," Ozai said, his tone firm, "You've proven you can still fight. But if you want to survive in this, Rivka, you'll need more than bending. You'll need certainty."
"Certainty?" Rivka echoed, a bit lost on which aspect of certainty Ozai was commenting on.
Ozai, standing straighter than Rivka would have expected after their intense exchange, fixed him with a calculated look.
"I have something else in mind for you tonight," Ozai said, his tone almost casual.
Rivka raised an eyebrow, wary, "Another spar? I'm flattered, but even I have limits."
Ozai smirked faintly, "Not a spar. We must decide how to handle Zhao and craft a message to the Northern Water Tribe. I want your input, assuming you can still form coherent thoughts after losing."
Rivka rolled his eyes, choosing to let the jab slide, "Lead the way, Fire Lord."
Shortly later, Rivka found himself seated at a low table in Ozai's study. The table was modest compared to the imposing desk Ozai claimed near the tall window overlooking the gardens, but it suited Rivka fine. He arranged the brush, ink, and parchment in front of him with practised ease, his mind already churning over how to approach such a delicate matter.
Ozai settled into his chair, his figure silhouetted against the flickering light of lanterns and the fading dusk. His commanding presence filled the room as he began unrolling maps and documents on his desk.
"The Northern Water Tribe will expect some kind of gesture after Zhao's antics," Ozai began, dipping his brush into the ink, "But I have no intention of handing him over. His punishment must serve the Fire Nation, not placate your people."
Rivka's jaw tightened. As much as he despised Zhao, the thought of handing him over to the Tribe was fraught with complications. It would be a symbolic victory for the Northern Water Tribe but could also spark unrest within the Fire Nation military, where Zhao still had his supporters.
"I agree," Rivka said after a pause, "Zhao in their hands would be more trouble than it's worth. But his punishment must be visible. The Tribe needs to see that you're holding him accountable, or they'll question your sincerity."
"Let them question," Ozai replied, his tone sharp, "A ruler does not bow to external scrutiny."
Rivka looked up, meeting Ozai's piercing gaze.
"Perhaps a wise ruler knows when to leverage external scrutiny for internal stability. You can reinforce your strength by addressing Zhao publicly while subtly acknowledging the Northern Tribe's grievances. It's a balancing act."
Ozai leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, then gestured toward Rivka's table, "Write your opening thoughts. Let's see what this 'balancing act' looks like in practice."
For a while, they worked in silence, the scratching of brushes on parchment filling the room. Rivka hunched over the low table, focused on crafting the tone carefully: diplomatic, measured, but not submissive. Meanwhile, Ozai's quill moved decisively over a separate sheet of parchment, his posture rigid and commanding even in stillness.
"Do you think the Northern Tribe will see this as a weakness?" Ozai asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Rivka considered the question, "Not if it's framed as strength. A decisive ruler acknowledges mistakes without diminishing their authority. It's all in the delivery."
Ozai made a noncommittal sound, his eyes flicking over the words Rivka had written. He stood abruptly, crossing the room to Rivka's table.
"Let me see."
He leaned over, scanning the draft. His proximity sent a strange tension through Rivka, but he didn't comment. Instead, Ozai picked up the parchment, his brow furrowing as he read.
"This phrasing here," Ozai said, pointing with the end of his brush, "'In recognition of mutual accountability,' it's too soft."
"It's calculated," Rivka countered, "You can frame it as leadership rather than submission, and it aligns with your claim of strength, acknowledging reality without conceding power."
Ozai grunted, his expression thoughtful. He set the parchment down without a word and took a cushion at Rivka's side of the table.
"Let's refine this together."
The shift surprised Rivka. He expected Ozai to maintain his position at the desk, overseeing from a distance. But now the Fire Lord was beside him, their brushes occasionally crossing as they edited and debated each line.
The initial awkwardness of the shared space dissolved as the discussion deepened. Rivka found himself surprisingly at ease, pointing out nuances in language while Ozai pushed for sharper, more commanding phrasing.
After a while, Ozai said, "Do you think they'll believe this section about Zhao's punishment is enough?"
"That depends on how it's framed. If you emphasize that his actions jeopardized your broader goals, it'll shift their focus from vengeance to alignment with your strategy," Rivka shrugged.
Ozai tilted his head, a rare glimmer of approval in his gaze.
"You're more devious than you look, Rivka."
"Don't underestimate me, Fire Lord," Rivka smirked, his brush moving fluidly over the parchment.
They worked late into the night, the final draft taking shape as a document that balanced Fire Nation authority with a carefully calculated nod to the Northern Tribe's expectations. Eventually, Rivka leaned back, his movements sluggish with exhaustion. He hadn't even noticed when his eyes began to droop, his brush slipping from his fingers. Ozai glanced over as Rivka's head tilted forward slightly, his breathing evening out into the beginnings of sleep.
The Fire Lord considered waking him but ultimately left him be. Instead, Ozai reached for another parchment, his lips twitching in what might have been a smile as he continued refining the letter in the quiet company of his unexpected ally.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the quiet stillness of the study. Rivka startled awake, his back stiff and his legs numb from having fallen asleep in a seiza position. His head had been tilted to one side, resting awkwardly against something firm and warm. He blinked blearily, taking a moment to realise that his shoulder was pressed against Ozai's, their knees awkwardly touching beneath the low table.
The Fire Lord stirred next to him, his sharp intake of breath almost a hiss as he jerked upright. His impeccable composure was nowhere to be found, his hair slightly dishevelled, his robes wrinkled in a way that betrayed his uncharacteristic lapse. His golden eyes met Rivka's, wide and unguarded for a split second before his usual guarded mask slammed into place.
The knock came again, louder and more insistent this time.
Ozai barked, "Enter!" with a sharpness that felt more like self-defence than irritation. His tone was commanding but tight, his posture stiff as he shifted away from Rivka and straightened his robes in one fluid motion.
The attendant entered cautiously, bowing deeply, "Fire Lord, the council awaits your presence for the morning briefing."
"Very well," Ozai snapped, his voice clipped. Rising to his feet, he smoothed back his hair with a practised motion, though it still betrayed faint traces of his impromptu nap. He hesitated for only a moment, his gaze flicking down to Rivka, who remained seated.
Their eyes met again, and for a heartbeat, neither spoke. Rivka caught a flash of something unspoken in Ozai's expression, an annoyance tinged with embarrassment, perhaps, or something even less definable. But the moment passed, and Ozai turned sharply on his heel, his robes sweeping behind him as he strode toward the door.
He paused at the threshold, his back to Rivka.
"Ensure the drafts are ready for review by this evening."
Then he was gone, leaving the door to click shut behind him.
Rivka exhaled a long breath, his hand pressing to his chest, as though it could steady the rapid flutter of his soulmark and heart. The sensation lingered, a mingling of mortification and something softer, like the echo of warmth left from their proximity. His shoulder tingled faintly where it had leaned against Ozai's.
"Get it together, Rivka," he muttered, shaking his head as he looked down at the scattered papers on the table.
Their letter draft lay unfinished, the ink dried in haphazard strokes where both of them had stopped mid-thought the night before. Rivka's more fluid script tangled with Ozai's precise, commanding annotations. He shifted his legs out from under him, grimacing at the pins and needles prickling through his feet as he stretched.
The room was quiet again, save for the rustling of paper as he gathered their scattered work. His fingers lingered over the edges of the parchment, his mind replaying the previous night's events, the spar, the banter, the surprisingly easy flow of conversation as they worked through their plans for the Northern Water Tribe.
His soulmark gave another faint pulse, echoing his lingering embarrassment and warmth. Rivka pressed a hand over it, sighing softly.
"What are you doing to me, Fire Lord?"
Shaking his head, he focused on the drafts, smoothing them out and rereading their notes. Even in its unfinished state, the letter was shaping up well, a balance of calculated diplomacy and firm resolve. Their contrasting styles somehow melded into something cohesive, something strong.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he read despite the odd ache in his chest. The soulmark's subtle hum persisted, but he pushed it aside, burying himself in the work. Whatever the complexities of their connection, this letter and what it symbolized would carry the weight of their intentions to the Northern Water Tribe.
Notes:
Slow burn ;)
Chapter 23: Words Across the Waves
Notes:
Fri and Sat update!! Oh my god, being a college student again is ruining meee it's so busy! Thanks for reading <3 04.05.25
Chapter Text
Rivka had a blurred few days ahead of him, between curtly keeping tabs on what the Fire Nation was doing with the Earth Kingdom and the spotted Avatar presence within said nation, the now-sent via fire hawk letter to the Northern Water Tribe, and Zhao's efforts to call his position in court under scrutiny.
He'd spent a good handful of his evenings after dinner either sparring with Ozai, writing his thoughts down or busying himself with a book and some tea. His former guard from the invasion reappeared to train him again, and Master Ren took the lead in training them all back into shape as a unit. Rivka was only slightly embarrassed when Ozai came to watch the unit pair spar. Rivka could sense the plan in the works with the efforts to get him back into peak form; finally, being permitted Waterbend and space and timeslot to train in helped, but gave questions as to why he'd suddenly been allowed the privilege. Azula had even taken one afternoon to spar with him, and they'd eventually called it a tie before either of them ran themselves too ragged.
Rivka was caught off guard when Ozai's study door suddenly opened. Having spent most of his recent evenings there, he'd taken to doing a lot of his political musing here, whether Ozai was here or not, with quickly expressed permission from the man himself.
Ozai had strode in, letters in hand, with all the authority in the world as the Waterbender was half bent over his desk, looking at the military position just inland from the Earth Kingdom colonies.
"The Northern Water Tribe has given not only a response but a letter for us each as well," Ozai swiftly declared as Rivka moved back from the desk.
"So, three letters? I must say I am surprised, especially after only three days."
Ozai stepped further into the room, placing the letters on the desk with a sharp precision that echoed his usual air of command. Rivka straightened his posture, and his curiosity piqued as he eyed the neatly folded missives.
"Three letters, indeed," Ozai confirmed, tapping a finger against the top one, "One addressed to the Fire Lord, another addressed specifically to you, and the last appears to be from their princess. Yue, I believe?"
Rivka's brows lifted in surprise, a flicker of warmth crossing his expression.
"Princess Yue? She's written to me?"
Ozai's gaze narrowed ever so slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. He passed the letter marked with Yue's elegant seal toward Rivka without comment, leaving Rivka to slide into his seat and carefully break the wax.
The first thing that struck Rivka was the care woven into the words. Yue's letter was polite yet personal, a delicate balance of diplomacy and warmth. She thanked him for his ongoing efforts in mediating the strained tensions between the Fire Nation and her people, praised his resolve, and most surprisingly, expressed a genuine hope that he might one day visit the Northern Water Tribe again.
Her tone shifted to something more intimate as she added:
You are remembered here with great fondness, Master Rivka. Your wisdom and strength left a mark on us all. I hope you are well and thriving, though I imagine the Fire Nation offers little in the way of peace. Should you find the time or desire, our tribe would be honoured to welcome you back for an exchange of knowledge and, perhaps, simply to rest.
Rivka let out a small breath, his heart tightening at the thoughtful sincerity of Yue's words.
"She writes well," he said, glancing at Ozai as he folded the letter carefully.
Ozai didn't respond to the observation. Instead, he lifted his letter, sealed with the Northern Water Tribe's formal crest. As Rivka opened his second letter, Ozai moved to the window; his back turned as he broke the seal on his.
The second letter addressed to Rivka bore the signature of Chief Arnook himself. His tone was formal but threaded with a sense of restrained gratitude:
Master Rivka,
Your letter was unexpected and appreciated. While the Northern Water Tribe remains wary of the Fire Nation's intentions, your presence reminds us that diplomacy, even in strained times, is not without merit. I encourage you to continue your work there, though I suspect the challenges you face will be considerable.
Arnook's letter then turned to a delicate matter:
I would advise you to tread carefully regarding the Fire Nation's internal matters. It is one thing to meditate and quite another to embroil oneself in their politics. You may find their trust fleeting when it suits their broader goals. Should you ever feel your position untenable, know that your home will always welcome you back with open arms.
Rivka closed the letter, his chest heavy with conflicting emotions. Arnook's words carried an unmistakable note of caution, a reminder of his precarious position.
Meanwhile, Ozai's face remained inscrutable as he skimmed the contents of his letter.
"What does your letter say?" Rivka ventured after a beat of silence.
Ozai turned, his golden eyes flicking to Rivka with a glint of something unreadable. For a moment, Rivka thought he might dismiss the question altogether, but to his surprise, Ozai's lips curled into the faintest smirk.
"Chief Arnook's response is... measured," he said cryptically, setting the letter down on his desk.
"He acknowledges the Fire Nation's reach and power yet dances around outright defiance. It's a predictable display of restraint, though I suspect his concerns lie not in what we've done but in what we might do."
"Will you share the details?" Rivka pressed, his tone careful but curious.
Ozai considered him for a long moment before gesturing to the letter, "See for yourself."
Rivka crossed to Ozai's desk, taking the letter carefully. The Chief's words, as Ozai said, were meticulously diplomatic. Arnook offered thanks for the Fire Lord's correspondence while urging caution regarding any future expansion into Earth Kingdom lands, particularly near water-bound territories. The underlying message was clear: the Northern Water Tribe was watching closely.
"What do you think?" Ozai asked, his voice smooth but testing.
Rivka returned the letter, his fingers lingering on the edges, "It's a fair response. It's defensive but open. They're leaving room for dialogue without appearing weak."
Ozai's smirk deepened as he leaned back against the window, "And yet, they still speak as though they are our equals."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Rivka met his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips.
Ozai didn't answer, though his expression suggested the conversation was far from over. Instead, he gestured to the table.
"Let us finalise our response."
The two men settled back into their seats, Ozai at his desk and Rivka at the low table. The atmosphere was subdued but focused as they began drafting a reply, the shared task smoothing some of the earlier tension.
Rivka occasionally glanced at Ozai as they worked, noting the sharp concentration etched into his features. Their collaboration was oddly harmonious, as though their differences complemented rather than clashed.
By the time the draft was complete, the sun had dipped below the horizon. Rivka set down his brush, stretching his fingers with a satisfied sigh.
"That should do it," he said, glancing over the final lines.
Ozai stood, moving fluidly to Rivka's table. He scanned the document, his sharp eyes catching every detail.
"It will suffice," he finally said, his tone almost approving.
Rivka chuckled softly, the sound breaking the quiet, "High praise coming from you."
Ozai didn't reply, but the faintest flicker of amusement crossed his features as he returned to his desk, leaving Rivka to wonder just how much weight the Fire Lord placed on their burgeoning partnership.
Through the night, Rivka decided to muse over his position yet again as he lay in bed. Zhao and his influence were now going to be handled internally within the Fire Nation, with direct reports to the Water Tribe, which, for now, had ended nicely enough. He had to start focusing his vision on the Earth Kingdom's resistance, the Earth-Fire colonies, and how they were faring with things.
His soul mark often hummed a steadier and content rhythm these nights, and although there seemed to be a smidge more tension than usual, this was becoming the new normal. With a small hum, Rivka wondered what the spiritual connection to the Fire Nation and their spirits was like these days. From his reading, they'd long since stopped caring in higher society about the spirits here, evidenced by Zhao and others alongside the apparent absence of anything spiritual aside from the Fire Sages, who had yet to speak with Rivka.
He had assumed, having time to look around and get used to the royal palace, that dragons and the sun had a lot to do with things in the past. There had been a passing script that Lord Shingen had given him that referenced dragon hunts, and that Prince Iroh, at the time, had been one of the last to hunt the dragons to extinction. Rivka held his guesses as to what that might imply.
Rolling onto his side, Rivka gave his thought process another pause to reflect on the letters from today. Sure, he'd struggled to grasp Fire Nation politics, and sure, he'd put his neck on the line nearly every time he walked into the war council, but it hadn't quite hit him how much effort and work he'd put into this. He'd dropped everything in his life to be a prisoner here before gaining a place in the royal court through one-in-a-million odds. He might have to count himself luckier than most that his home would still welcome him home as a Waterbender Master if everything went to the pits here - if he could ever leave.
The thought was weird; it wasn't quite home, too war-torn and unrestful to be what he'd want to call home here and at the palace of all things. But, with the curt reflection of how Ozai had been treating him lately, perhaps home wasn't as far off as he thought it was in these familiar halls.
That night, Rivka dreamed of dragons like the golden one that sat above the throne he'd grown used to seeing Ozai settle on. Two of these dragons danced in the skies with swift movements and powerful roars as they circled, and Rivka saw himself standing on a clifftop. He couldn't say that he'd remembered anything other than their impression and the swell of his chi at the sight of them when he woke the next morning.
The faint light of dawn crept through the paper-thin walls of his quarters, chasing away the lingering haze of the dream. Rivka rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly, his legs tucked beneath him as the crisp morning air nipped at his skin. Dragons, their forms, their power, their presence, still echoed in his mind. He pressed a hand against his chest as if the phantom sensation of their roars had settled there, reverberating through his chi.
Rivka couldn't help but wonder what it meant. Dragons were a part of Fire Nation history, tied to their bending, their very identity. And yet, their extinction painted a very different story, one of conquest and pride overriding connection and respect. What had they meant to the Fire Nation before that? And why were they appearing to him now?
He shook his head and reached for the cup of water he always kept by his bedside, sipping it slowly as he let his thoughts settle. The palace made him feel like an intruder in a land that wasn't his own, yet the dream hinted at something deeper, a connection that disturbed him.
Rivka dressed with care, donning his blue Water Tribe garb but tying his hair back in a Fire Nation style that was both practical and a quiet nod to where he now stood. The halls were unusually quiet as he made his way to the training grounds. The sparring sessions with the guards and Master Ren had become something of a ritual, a chance to ground himself in motion and purpose. Still, today, he moved through the forms with less vigour, his mind preoccupied with the odd sensation of unease that had followed him from the dream.
By the time breakfast came, Rivka found himself lingering in the shadows of the palace gardens, letting the warmth of the sun soak into his skin. The fluttering in his soulmark was muted but steady, as though even it were reflecting his pensive mood. A part of him itched to return to the letters he'd received from the Northern Water Tribe. Yue's words had been warm, her invitation sincere, but what struck him most was her belief that Rivka could bridge two worlds, his own and the one he now walked among.
"Bridge two worlds," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, "I can barely keep myself from drowning in this one."
And yet, that was what he had committed to, wasn't it? To find balance in a world determined to destroy it. His thoughts flickered briefly to the Avatar. If a child was burdened with such a monumental task, who was Rivka to shirk his responsibility?
Then, a royal attendant appeared, bowing stiffly before informing him that the Fire Sages had requested his presence. The news sent a ripple of unease through him, though he concealed it with a nod.
Rivka's heart beat heavier than usual as he followed the attendant back into the palace. He had no illusions about the Fire Sages. They were not merely priests but power brokers, manipulators cloaked in reverence. And if they'd turned their attention to him, it was unlikely to be anything good.
Chapter 24: Threads of Connection
Notes:
Brrrrr late update sorry, study is busy as hell 0.0 I can barely have down time rn <3
Chapter Text
Midday light slanted through high windows as Rivka entered the Fire Lord's audience chamber. The two attendants who had escorted him stepped aside, and Rivka found himself facing the Fire Sages. Their crimson robes and gold embroidery seemed to burn in the light. The air was heavy with the weight of their scrutiny, and Rivka couldn't shake the feeling of being summoned before judges rather than priests. He had not expected this upon waking up this morning.
Ozai sat atop his throne, commanding and silent. His golden eyes fixed briefly on Rivka as he approached, but gave nothing away. Rivka kept his gaze level, bowing with deliberate politeness. It wasn't submission; it was strategy.
The eldest Sage, a man with a beard as white as snow and a voice as deep as rolling thunder, was the first to speak.
"Master Rivka. Your presence here remains an anomaly. That you've been permitted to advise the Fire Lord speaks to... unusual circumstances."
Rivka inclined his head, his voice calm and neutral, "I am well aware. I've spent every day here being reminded of how unusual my position is. I assume this summons isn't simply to restate it."
A murmur rippled through the younger Sages, one of whom shifted uneasily at Rivka's tone. The elder, however, seemed unfazed.
"You misunderstand. This is not a summons to debate your role but to acknowledge your place in something greater. We have watched you, and it is clear you are marked by the spirits. Such things cannot be ignored, even by those within the Fire Nation."
"I am a Waterbender. My connection to the spirits is no more or less than that of anyone who comes from my homeland," Rivka's spine stiffened, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.
"Perhaps," said another Sage, a younger man whose voice carried less confidence, "But your actions suggest otherwise. To save the Moon Spirit with such conviction... the spirits take notice of deeds like that."
His words were hesitant, almost questioning, as though he doubted their claims.
"I acted out of necessity. The balance of the world demanded it." Rivka's stomach churned, and he forced a calm nod.
"And yet," the elder Sage interjected, "that balance echoes in your chi. You are more attuned than you admit. Perhaps you've noticed dreams, or visions, the resonance of your soulmark?"
Rivka's lips thinned, the sharp spike of his unease barely suppressed. How much did they know or think they knew? He glanced toward Ozai, hoping for some sense of direction, but the Fire Lord remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the proceedings with an unreadable expression.
"What I've noticed," Rivka said carefully, "Is that the Fire Nation speaks much of spirits but seems to have drifted far from them. Perhaps it's easier to point fingers than to confront your estrangement from the spiritual realm."
The younger Sage flinched, his face colouring at Rivka's bluntness, but the elder's expression only hardened.
"Your insolence will not serve you, Waterbender."
Rivka met his gaze unflinchingly, "I don't mean to offend, but I will not claim titles or responsibilities that aren't mine. If the spirits wish to involve themselves in the Fire Nation's affairs, that is their will, not mine."
The elder Sage's lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, the tension in the room was suffocating. Then, finally, he nodded.
"Your words are noted, Master Rivka. But remember this: spiritual awareness is not a gift one can refuse. It is a responsibility, whether you wish it or not."
With a final glance toward Ozai, who had yet to speak, the Sages turned and swept from the room, their robes rustling like the hiss of distant flames. The youngest lingered for a moment, his eyes flicking toward Rivka with something like uncertainty before he hurried after the others.
Rivka exhaled when the doors closed behind them, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"That was... enlightening."
Ozai stood from his throne, descending the dais to stand by the war table. His expression was as calm as ever, but his gaze was sharp as he looked at Rivka.
"You handled them better than most. They are not accustomed to being challenged."
"I wasn't trying to challenge them," Rivka said, following Ozai to the table, "But I don't trust people who hide behind lofty ideals while serving their agendas. They claim to serve the spirits, but I suspect they're more interested in their authority."
Ozai's lips twitched into the faintest smirk, "You're more perceptive than they give you credit for."
Rivka glanced at the map on the table, which showed the marked positions of the Earth Kingdom resistance and the Avatar's potential location.
"The spirits aside, there's more at stake here than ancient traditions. This war isn't just about conquest anymore. It's about survival for everyone."
"The Avatar is a threat to that survival. He is the last Airbender, the embodiment of the old world that seeks to undermine our progress." Ozai's expression darkened.
Rivka hesitated, weighing his words carefully.
"He's also a twelve-year-old boy," he said slowly, "If we can reach him diplomatically and convince him that balance doesn't mean destroying the Fire Nation, isn't that worth pursuing? This war has already taken enough lives."
Ozai's gaze was sharp but didn't immediately dismiss the idea. Rivka pressed on, emboldened by the silence.
"If the Avatar believes the Fire Nation is an unyielding enemy, he'll fight to the bitter end, but if we show him there's a path forward that doesn't involve more bloodshed... We might avoid another hundred years of war."
For a long moment, Ozai said nothing, his eyes fixed on the map. Finally, he nodded, though it was more acknowledgment than agreement.
"We'll see where the boy stands when he's cornered. Until then, I expect your counsel to remain sharp. Don't let the Sages distract you with their superstitions."
Rivka inclined his head, hiding the relief that Ozai hadn't outright dismissed his suggestion. As the Fire Lord returned to his seat, Rivka turned his attention back to the map.
"The Si Wong Desert? Is that where we think the Avatar is heading?" Rivka mused over the map, his expression clouding.
"From our intelligence," Ozai confirmed, "We also haven't had Iroh or Zuko sighted in quite some time. Not all that long after they were tasked with finding the Avatar after our soulmate announcement."
"Curious," Rivka murmured, "I wouldn't think they'd abandon the line you threw them, especially Zuko."
"I considered branding them traitors," Ozai reveals, his eyes narrowing with a mysterious emotion. I hesitate to do so only because they seem likely to align with our cause overall, but they may need time to find their place with new developments here."
"Is that an indirect way of saying you think they currently align with my ideals, which are often branded as traitorous due to their diplomatic nature?" Rivka curtly turned with a raised brow.
"I want to know exactly where their loyalties lie before I finalise the decision. I believe sending Azula after them, and the Avatar will reveal the answers I am looking for."
Rivka composed himself for a moment so he didn't send a sour look at the Fire Lord.
"Is Princess Azula the small force running through the inland, ignoring camps and towns? It's only been a few days since she last appeared," Rivka hesitated, "She moves fast."
Ozai cleared his throat to hide a scoff.
"Since we're running amok on Earth territory and getting closer and closer to Ba Sing Se, would you consider opening a diplomatic line with the Earth King or the military there?" Rivka pointedly kept his eyes on the map.
Ozai leaned back in his chair, his expression inscrutable as he studied Rivka.
"Ba Sing Se is a fortress in structure and philosophy. The Earth King hides behind his walls and his illusions of control, but if you believe there's an avenue worth pursuing, I will humour this plan."
Rivka inclined his head, careful to keep his expression neutral. Ozai's willingness to even consider diplomatic overtures was unexpected, though Rivka suspected it had more to do with strategy than a shift in ideology.
"I'll prepare a detailed proposal," Rivka offered, "Something that aligns with the progress we've made in the colonies, enough to open a channel of communication without undermining the Fire Nation's strength. We may avoid stoking unnecessary suspicion if we position the effort as a coalition rather than an overture."
Ozai regarded him for a moment, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
"You intend to bring this before the war council?"
"If you permit it," Rivka replied, carefully choosing his words, "They'll need to understand the potential value of such a move, and I'd rather they hear it from me than filter it through palace rumours."
The Fire Lord's lips quirked in a faint smirk.
"Bold, but you've proven yourself adept at turning boldness into progress. Very well, I will summon the council in three days. You will have their ears, but I warn you, Rivka. The generals are not as... flexible as I am."
Rivka inclined his head, hiding a flicker of amusement at the irony of Ozai calling himself "flexible."
"I wouldn't expect them to be, but with your permission, I'll ensure they understand the stakes."
Ozai's expression shifted, a flicker of something unspoken passing across his face. He waved a hand in dismissal, his tone growing colder.
"Then be prepared. Failure to convince them will not reflect well on you."
Rivka straightened, his composure unwavering, "Understood."
The days before the war council meeting he would be presenting at passed in a flurry of preparation. Rivka poured over reports, refining his arguments and weaving the threads of his plan into something coherent enough to withstand the scrutiny of the Fire Nation's most unyielding generals.
Master Ren and Rivka's guard remained close, their presence a silent reminder that his position here was as much a precarious privilege as it was a responsibility. While Rivka appreciated their loyalty, he found himself spending long hours alone in the study, piecing together maps and notes in solitude.
On the morning of the council meeting, Rivka stood before the grand mirror in his quarters, adjusting the Fire Nation robes he'd begrudgingly grown accustomed to wearing in court. The weight of the fabric felt heavier than usual, as though the significance of the day pressed down on him.
His soulmark thrummed faintly beneath his robes, a constant reminder of the bond that had brought him to this strange place. Whether it was a comfort or a burden, Rivka still wasn't sure.
The war council chamber hummed with subdued tension as Rivka unfurled his maps and documents on the central table. The faint hiss of the torches lining the walls served as the only backdrop to the weighty silence. Rivka's eyes swept over the assembled generals, noting the varied reactions to his presence.
General Kaizhu offered a faint nod of acknowledgment, his weathered face giving away nothing, but Rivka had come to trust his measured counsel over the months. General Cheng sat to Kaizhu's left, his younger face betraying a flicker of curiosity behind a carefully neutral mask. Across from them, however, was General Kuya, his staunchest opposition. The older man's stony glare was unyielding, his disdain for Rivka as both a Water Tribe diplomat and Ozai's soulmate barely hidden beneath the veneer of military decorum.
Ozai, seated at the head of the table, gestured for Rivka to begin without a preamble.
"Fire Lord, Generals," Rivka inclined his head, his voice steady though his fingers tightened briefly on the edges of the map. I bring forth a proposal that I believe will strengthen the Fire Nation's position in the Earth Kingdom and stabilise our progress without unnecessary bloodshed."
Kuya immediately scoffed, crossing his arms, "Unnecessary bloodshed? You speak as though we're here to coddle the enemy. The Earth Kingdom resists because it is too weak to accept reality. You would ask us to negotiate with cowards?"
Rivka met Kuya's glare head-on, his tone sharpening.
"And yet those same 'cowards' have held Ba Sing Se for a hundred years, costing the Fire Nation immeasurable resources and lives. I propose we focus on dismantling their resistance through strategy, not brute force."
Kaizhu leaned forward, his gruff voice breaking the rising tension, "What exactly are you suggesting, Rivka?"
Rivka gestured to the map, tracing a route to Ba Sing Se with a deliberate hand, "We've made progress in the colonies because we've approached the people with stability, offering order where there was chaos rather than razing their homes. We can apply a similar approach to the Earth Kingdom's leadership. Ba Sing Se's isolation makes it vulnerable to division. If we offer an alliance that emphasises mutual benefit and control under Fire Nation influence without the pretence of subjugation, we could weaken their internal unity."
Kuya barked a bitter laugh, "Mutual benefit? The Earth King would sooner ally with the Avatar than bow to us."
Cheng, another General who had remained silent until now, raised a hand.
"It's not an unreasonable idea," he said cautiously, "Ba Sing Se's politics are fractured; merchant guilds, military factions, and nobles often clash even without our interference. A diplomatic channel could exploit those fractures without requiring immediate military action."
"Precisely," Rivka said, seizing the opportunity, "We could appeal to certain factions within Ba Sing Se, positioning ourselves as the lesser evil compared to the Avatar or other rogue elements. The key is subtlety, not overt aggression."
"Subtlety has no place in war. This is a fool's errand, and you, Rivka, are asking us to risk everything on your naive idealism." Kuya's expression darkened further.
Kaizhu interjected before the tension could boil over, "Enough, Kuya. The Fire Lord permitted Rivka to speak; he has earned that much. Let him finish."
Rivka inclined his head to Kaizhu in thanks before continuing.
"This is not about idealism. It's about practicality. Sending Azula or a small, elite force to Ba Sing Se to engage in diplomacy would cost us far less than an all-out siege, and if we fail, we lose little that we cannot afford to risk."
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the torches.
Ozai, who had been silent throughout the debate, finally spoke, his voice cold and deliberate.
"You propose a path that diverges significantly from the Fire Nation's traditions, Rivka. The council's scepticism is not unwarranted. Yet, there is merit in exploiting Ba Sing Se's weaknesses. Generals, what say you?"
Kaizhu nodded, his expression grim.
"It's a gamble, but a calculated one. I believe it's worth pursuing."
Cheng hesitated before offering a tentative agreement, "The plan has potential, but it must be executed carefully."
"This is folly. The Fire Nation's strength lies in conquest, not pandering to weaklings," Kuya, predictably, shook his head in disdain.
Ozai's sharp gaze shifted to Rivka. "The council is divided. If you truly believe in this plan, you will take responsibility for it. You will present it to Ba Sing Se yourself; if you fail, it will be your failure alone."
Rivka straightened, meeting Ozai's gaze without flinching, "I accept, Fire Lord Ozai."
Ozai's lips curved into a faint, calculating smirk. "Then prepare yourself. You will leave as soon as both nations agree to such, and Rivka..."
Rivka inclined his head, "Yes, Fire Lord?"
"Do not mistake my permission for approval. You are being thrown to the wolves, and they will not hesitate to tear you apart if you falter."
Rivka's expression remained calm, but his heart thundered beneath his composed exterior, "I understand, my lord."
The council adjourned, the generals departing with varying degrees of reluctance and approval. As Rivka gathered his materials, Kaizhu approached, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You're walking a dangerous path, Rivka," the older general said quietly, "But sometimes danger is necessary. Don't let them rattle you."
Rivka offered a faint, weary smile, "I've been walking that path since the day I stepped into this palace, General."
Kaizhu chuckled low and grimly as he turned to leave. Alone in the chamber, Rivka exhaled slowly, steadying himself for the trials ahead.
He had been thrown to the wolves before. Now, he would simply have to ensure they didn't tear him apart.
Chapter 25: The Weight of Diplomacy
Notes:
Weekly foods here <3
17.05.25
Chapter Text
Rivka had co-written his letter to the Earth King within the next day and had it sent from the royal messenger hawk alongside communications with the move to the Northern Water Tribe. He'd managed to keep a lid on his nerves until Ozai caught him out unmoving and lost in thought with his teacup stuck in his hands for almost an hour.
"Are you regretting your decision to involve yourself with Earth Kingdom affairs?" Ozai curtly asked, snapping Rivka from his thoughts.
Rivka blinked, his gaze slowly focusing as though surfacing from deep waters. The tea in his cup had long gone cold, but his fingers still curled around it as if it offered some measure of grounding. He glanced toward Ozai, who regarded him with a mix of impatience and quiet scrutiny from his seat across the room.
"I don't regret it," Rivka replied slowly, his voice measured, as he carefully placed the teacup on the lacquered table between them.
"It's simply... a matter of calculation. Every action ripples outward, and I'm trying to see where the waves will land."
Ozai arched a brow, his golden eyes narrowing, "Your metaphors tire me, Rivka. Speak plainly."
Rivka allowed a thin, almost apologetic smile.
"Diplomacy is the slowest path to victory, Fire Lord. Yet, it is the most delicate. The letter I sent to the Earth King could either open a door or give him time to fortify his defences further. Either way, it changes the balance of the board. I'm... considering the next few moves. I'm also not a professional in this field; I used to speak better with my fists."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Ozai's piercing gaze seemed to pry at Rivka's carefully maintained exterior, searching for cracks. Finally, the Fire Lord leaned back in his chair, the faintest glint of amusement flickering in his expression.
"And here I thought you were beginning to enjoy court life. To see you paralysed by doubt is almost refreshing," Ozai said, his tone a blend of mockery and curiosity, "Perhaps you're not as confident in your ideals as you pretend to be."
Rivka met his gaze head-on, shoulders squared, "If I had no doubt, I wouldn't be worth listening to. Certainty breeds arrogance, and I imagine your war council already has enough of that to go around."
Ozai's eyes narrowed further, but there was no immediate rebuke. Instead, a small, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Careful, Rivka. You speak as though you're above my generals."
"Hardly," Rivka replied evenly, though his pulse quickened, "But as someone who has seen the weight of the war fall on innocent people, not just soldiers, I believe caution is worth advocating for. Even if it earns me disdain."
Ozai let out a soft, humourless chuckle, his fingers drumming lightly on the arm of his chair.
"You enjoy walking this knife's edge, don't you? Always pushing just far enough that I tolerate it."
Rivka said nothing, though the subtle tilt of his chin was enough of a quiet admission. Ozai studied him for a beat longer before gesturing dismissively.
"Fine. Worry over your ripples, but the Earth Kingdom is vast, and its king is a fool. Do not expect him to meet you with reason or mercy."
"I expect nothing," Rivka answered, his voice soft but resolute, "But if the Earth King accepts my offer, we gain an advantage without losing another life. If he refuses, at least we'll know where we stand."
"Practical," Ozai murmured while testing the word, "But dangerous. You're gambling with more than your own life, Rivka. Do not fail."
"I don't intend to," Rivka replied.
Ozai rose without another word, his robes sweeping across the floor as he strode from the room, leaving Rivka alone once more. He exhaled slowly, fingers tracing the rim of his abandoned teacup as his thoughts churned again.
He hadn't lied. He didn't regret the decision but was keenly aware of the storm he might have just invited. The Earth Kingdom was a fractured, sprawling behemoth, and its king was a distant figure surrounded by walls of tradition and bureaucracy. Breaking through that would be no easy feat.
Then there was the Water Tribe, his people, whom he had also reached out to. His message to the Northern Water Tribe had been carefully worded to emphasise cooperation rather than dependence, but Rivka knew how these things could be twisted. Allies could become wary, and foes could seize any misstep to solidify their positions.
Sighing, Rivka stood and moved to the window. The afternoon sun blazed against the courtyard, illuminating the sharp, angular architecture of the palace. Somewhere beyond those walls, Azula's forces were already moving swiftly and relentlessly in her hunt for the Avatar and Ba Sing Se loomed in the distance, a city as elusive as its secrets.
"I just hope," Rivka murmured, "I haven't started a fire I won't be able to put out."
The next few days passed slowly, like the calm before the storm that awaited Rivka's political ventures. First, he heard back from the Northern Tribe, who were happy to help and start three-way talks with the Earth Kingdom to figure something out for a more politically stable environment.
Lord Shingen, the scholar, had scheduled time for the two of them to talk over tea alongside Lady Kyori, who would likely grow tired of their philosophical drivel and go on her way soon.
Lord Shingen arrived precisely on time, as was his habit, carrying an air of composed grace. His scholarly robes were immaculate, and he moved with an unhurried, deliberate elegance that contrasted sharply with Lady Kyori, who had already grown restless. She perched at the edge of her seat like a hawk poised to swoop, eyeing Rivka critically as he settled across from her.
"Your posture is abysmal," Kyori quipped, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her tea, "How you survived the war council with that slouch is beyond me."
Rivka offered a thin but polite smile, "I suppose it's a wonder I haven't been exiled outright."
Shingen chuckled lightly as he poured himself tea, settling into the meeting with an ease that suggested he'd anticipated this conversation.
"You would be hard-pressed to find anyone in this palace who hasn't speculated about that, Master Rivka, but I imagine your recent successes keep the wolves at bay for now."
"How comforting," Rivka muttered, though there was a playful edge to his sarcasm.
He leaned back slightly in his seat, bracing himself for whatever scholarly musings Shingen had prepared for the day.
"Speaking of wolves," Shingen began, his voice measured, "The public has found an interesting way to regard you."
Rivka blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, "The public?"
"Yes, the people," Shingen clarified, gesturing vaguely toward the world beyond the palace walls, "Surely you've considered how they see you, Fire Lord Ozai's soulmate, the Waterbender in their midst."
"I assumed they hated me," Rivka paused, fingers tapping against his cup, brow furrowing.
Kyori let out a small gasp, horrified, "You assumed? You didn't even think to ask? To inquire?"
Rivka shot her a dry look.
"Forgive me, Lady Kyori, for not polling the streets between war councils and dodging daggers in court."
Kyori huffed, shaking her head, "Unbelievable."
Rivka sighed, softening, "I've had other priorities. Perhaps it was an oversight, but you can hardly blame me for focusing on surviving the court's scheming rather than seeking validation from the people."
Shingen smiled knowingly, taking a measured sip of his tea.
"Ah, but therein lies the surprise, Master Rivka. The people do not hate you. If anything, they are... intrigued."
Rivka blinked again, the news sinking like a stone dropped into still water. "Intrigued?"
"Intrigued," Shingen repeated, leaning forward slightly, "You are not the monster they expected. Some even see you as a curiosity, a challenge to the status quo, a man from the Water Tribe standing at the Fire Lord's side. Your... radical ideals, as you call them, have not been brushed aside. For many, the wars have dragged on so long that your talk of diplomacy strikes as fresh air."
Kyori set her cup down with an audible clink, still appalled, "And you didn't think to care about this?"
"I care," Rivka said pointedly, fixing her with a sharp look, "I care about their lives, their safety, and the way this war is bleeding all of us dry. Forgive me for not worrying whether they like me while I try to improve their lives."
Kyori opened her mouth to retort, but Shingen raised a hand, his voice calm as ever.
"Lady Kyori, I believe Rivka's priorities are sound, though it is worth noting that public support can be as much of a shield as any ally in court. I share this with you, Rivka, not as criticism but as an opportunity."
Rivka tilted his head slightly, studying the older man, "Opportunity?"
"Yes," Shingen said with a small smile, "The Fire Nation is accustomed to strength and power, but they are also wary. They see you, and for all your differences, you bring something their leaders have not offered in generations: hope. If you continue to speak carefully and act wisely, the public may defend you against enemies you cannot see."
Rivka looked down at his tea, letting Shingen's words settle. The idea that the Fire Nation citizens might view him as more than an outsider or an enemy was almost unthinkable. And yet...
He glanced back at Shingen, "And if they turn against me?"
"Then you will be no worse off than you are now. But I do not think they will. You underestimate the quiet hunger for change, Rivka. You only need to feed it." Shingen shrugged.
Kyori muttered something about gamblers and idealists, but Rivka ignored her. For once, he felt a small comfort, a reassurance he hadn't realised he needed.
"Perhaps you're right," he admitted softly, "I'll think about it."
Shingen's smile widened ever so slightly, and a glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, "Good. Then I've earned my tea today."
Rivka allowed himself a small, genuine smile in return, though he made no promises. As he sipped his tea, his thoughts turned to the Earth Kingdom and the path ahead.
"Lord Shingen, have you studied the Earth Kingdom's politics in your studies?" Rivka dared to ask after a pause, "Perhaps any guesses as to what books to pick up next, even?"
"Personally, no, I have not," Shingen mused, "But I do have a friend in the colonies I can write to and hope for a swift response, or I can contact one of the newer scholars who has immigrated from the colonies to the Fire Islands."
Rivka nodded slowly, digesting the offer.
"I'd appreciate that. The Earth Kingdom is... vast. If I walk into their court, I'd prefer not to look like an ignorant fool."
Lady Kyori, still poised but no longer quite so sharp-tongued, tilted her head thoughtfully, "A fool wouldn't bother to ask, and yet you assume you need their favour?"
"Need is a strong word," Rivka admitted, his cup absently in his hands, "But if I want to get anywhere with the Earth King and his generals, understanding their court's dynamics will be critical. I can't rely on being seen alone as Fire Lord Ozai's soulmate. That might open the door, but it won't keep me in the room."
Shingen hummed in agreement, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.
"Wise of you. While the Earth Kingdom reveres strength, they also prize decorum and tradition, something that might work against you if you come off as too... unorthodox."
"Unorthodox is my specialty, Shingen," Rivka replied dryly, though a faint smirk betrayed his amusement, "Still, I take your point. If I'm going to represent any form of diplomacy from the Fire Nation, I'll need to balance strength with tact. I can't afford missteps."
Shingen's expression grew serious, the playful edge softening.
"The Earth Kingdom's politics are labyrinthine; Rivka and its leaders are deeply rooted in their perceptions of honour and loyalty. You will likely find that they see you as both an emissary and a test; how much of the Fire Nation's ambition do you carry with you, and how much of your Water Tribe heritage will they trust?"
Rivka stilled, a shadow of tension crossing his features.
"So I'll be questioned at every turn by both sides. Lovely."
"Perhaps," Shingen replied gently, "but that is nothing new for you, right?"
Rivka let out a soft, humourless laugh, "No, it isn't. But knowing that doesn't make it any less exhausting."
Kyori suddenly stood, brushing her hands over her sleeves with a flourish.
"You'll manage," she said briskly, "And if you don't, at least the Earth Kingdom will have excellent tea to drown your sorrows in. Now, if you two philosophers will excuse me, I have real matters to attend to."
Rivka offered her a mock bow from his seat, and she scoffed before turning on her heel and sweeping out of the room.
Once the door closed, Rivka turned back to Shingen.
"You know, I almost admire her straightforwardness."
"Almost?" Shingen asked, amused.
Rivka gave a faint smile, "Only almost. She'd eat me alive in a debate."
Shingen chuckled, shaking his head.
"Lady Kyori is sharp, but her honesty is not a weapon against you. If anything, it is a gift that most in this palace would never dare offer."
"I'll keep that in mind," Rivka muttered, finally setting his cup down.
He exhaled slowly, the weight of his upcoming journey pressing against his shoulders, "Write to your friend, Shingen. Any insight you can provide, no matter how small, will be invaluable."
"Consider it done," Shingen promised, his voice steady with reassurance, "I'll send the letter immediately and ensure you're equipped with whatever knowledge we can find before you leave."
Rivka inclined his head, gratitude softening his expression, "Thank you, Lord Shingen. You've done more for me than I could ask."
Shingen's gaze lingered on him momentarily, the scholar's quiet wisdom shining through.
"You are doing what many thought impossible, Master Rivka. Don't forget that, even when the task feels insurmountable. Change comes slowly, but it does come."
Rivka didn't answer immediately, letting Shingen's words settle deep within him. Finally, he rose from his seat with newfound resolve.
"Then I suppose I'll have to keep pushing, won't I?"
"Indeed," Shingen agreed with a nod, watching Rivka as he turned to leave, "And you are not pushing alone."
Rivka paused at the door, glancing back. For the first time in days, a flicker of hope, small but steady, shone in his eyes.
"Let's hope you're right, Shingen. Let's hope they see that, too."
With that, he stepped out into the corridor, his mind already approaching the road ahead. The Earth Kingdom awaited, and while doubt still whispered in the back of his mind, Rivka refused to let it drown out the quiet resolve building in his chest. Whatever came next, he would be ready.
Chapter 26: An Invitation to Deceit
Chapter Text
The letter from Ba Sing Se arrived just after sunset, pristine in its royal green seal despite the fingerprints smeared along its edges. Rivka stood beside Ozai in the Fire Lord's private study as the messenger departed in a bow so low Rivka thought his spine might snap before fleeing. Ozai wordlessly broke the seal and carefully unfolded the parchment, scanning the contents in silence.
Then he snorted outright, audibly and passed the letter over to Rivka without a word.
"You're going to enjoy this," Ozai said, leaning back in his chair with dark amusement.
Rivka raised a brow before taking the letter, "Should I brace for insult, or-?"
"Just read."
Rivka sighed and straightened the parchment. His expression shifted quickly from curiosity to disbelief as he began to read aloud, his voice laced with dry incredulity:
"To the Esteemed Fire Lord Ozai and Master Rivka,
The Earth King acknowledges your interest in dialogue with the court of Ba Sing Se. Entry into the city will be permitted under the following terms and conditions:
You will arrive with a party of no more than ten individuals, selected and cleared by Earth Kingdom authorities. All weapons, armour, and dangerous items will be surrendered at the outer gate and returned upon your departure. Each member of your party will submit to thorough searches and questioning upon arrival. You will remain within the designated guest quarters unless escorted by court representatives. Failure to comply will result in immediate removal.
Members of the court will meet you at the outer walls and oversee your presence following the city's safety.
Respectfully,
The Court of Ba Sing Se."
There was a beat of silence after Rivka's voice faded. He lowered the letter slowly and stared at it, baffled, as if expecting it to rewrite itself under scrutiny.
"The Court of Ba Sing Se?" he echoed dryly, "Fire Lord, you personally wrote to the Earth King, the man technically ruling half the continent, and all we get back is his court?"
Ozai's lip curled with disdain.
"It's disrespectful, almost deliberately so. Do they think I don't notice how carefully worded this insult is?" He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as if to burn a hole through the parchment, "For all I know, the Earth King can't even hold a pen."
Rivka barked a short, startled laugh, shaking his head, "If he can, it's only to sign off on royal edicts about sandwiches."
Ozai smirked faintly before his expression turned cold once more.
"And the restrictions, they're treating this as if we are the ones grovelling at their gates."
Rivka frowned, skimming the terms again.
"The 'thorough searches and questioning' don't sit right with me. They're afraid, no doubt about it, but I'm starting to think that fear comes from what's happening inside the city, not what's beyond the walls."
"You think this is a trap."
"Absolutely," Rivka replied without hesitation, "If this were genuine diplomacy, they wouldn't demand weapons, escorts, and locked quarters. They're not trying to make us comfortable; they're trying to control every step we take."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Ba Sing Se's been a fortress of secrets for as long as anyone can remember, but this reeks of something worse. Someone's pulling the strings, and they're ensuring we don't see what they're hiding."
Ozai's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "And yet you still mean to proceed."
Rivka looked up, his expression resolute.
"I do. There's something bigger happening in Ba Sing Se, and if we don't figure out what, it's going to spiral into a mess neither of us can afford. Besides..." He exhaled sharply, his lips quirking with faint irony, "We're already at war. It's not like they'll like us any less for showing up."
"And the Water Tribe?"
"I'll insist they send a small delegation," Rivka said firmly, "If we're walking into a trap, we need someone outside the Fire Nation who can observe alongside us. The Earth Kingdom might try to play us against each other, but the Tribes need to see this for what it is. Ba Sing Se is rotting; it'll collapse on everyone if we don't pull back the curtain."
Ozai considered him for a long moment, sharp-eyed and measuring, before nodding once.
"Very well. You'll take the terms and the Water Tribe's support into consideration as you prepare. But, Rivka..." His voice dipped into a simmering warning, "If the Earth Kingdom thinks this little song and dance will humiliate the Fire Nation, they are sorely mistaken. Find the truth of Ba Sing Se, and remind them who they are dealing with."
Rivka refolded the letter, tucking it with a wry smile beneath his arm.
"They've certainly made a good first impression."
Ozai scoffed, turning his attention back to his desk, "Prepare and try not to get yourself killed in the city of secrets."
Rivka gave a small, sarcastic bow as he turned to leave.
"Oh, I'll be on my best behaviour. The Earth King's court will love me."
Rivka's confident mask slipped as the doors shut behind him, and he glanced down at the Earth Kingdom's insult of a letter once more.
"They sent a glorified invitation to house arrest," he muttered, shaking his head, "Unbelievable. This better be worth it."
Rivka spent the evening drafting his message to the Northern Water Tribe, hands stained faintly with ink by the time he sealed the scroll. It was curt yet diplomatic, its tone firmly balancing urgency and the weight of the moment.
"To Chief Arnook and Master Pakku,
Ba Sing Se has extended conditional entry to the Fire Nation for diplomatic talks. The Earth King's court, no doubt ruled by unseen hands, has made its terms clear, and the situation reeks of deeper tension than they will admit. Perhaps it is a trap or simply a city teetering on the edge of collapse. Either way, something dangerous hides behind its walls.
As such, I request the Northern Water Tribe's presence in this venture, an observer's eye alongside the Fire Nation's. This is not a plea for unity but for clarity. The city's rot may spread to every corner of the world if we let it fester. A small delegation of your most capable envoys and guards will suffice to ensure a balanced and honest engagement. Your wisdom and insight will be vital in untangling this mystery.
For the world's sake and the truth,
Rivka."
He re-read the letter once more before sealing it with the Fire Nation's crimson wax, its bold mark like a final exclamation point. He handed it off to the royal messenger hawk, its red-feathered wings soon disappearing into the night.
As Rivka poured over his travel plans the next morning, a scroll bearing Shingen's seal arrived. Curious, he broke it open, immediately recognising the hurried yet precise handwriting of Shingen's Earth Kingdom contact.
"To Lord Rivka,
Lord Shingen tells me you anticipate a diplomatic visit to Ba Sing Se. I will not waste words—prepare yourself for a city more labyrinthine than a kingdom. The Earth King is a figurehead at best, a puppet of the secret police known as the Dai Li. They rule the city with shadows and whispers, ensuring the King never learns more than they want him to know.
You will not be dealing with the Earth King directly; you'll be wading through layers of bureaucracy and 'courtiers' who act as shields between the Dai Li's schemes and outsiders. Expect decorum—pointless traditions, etiquette steeped in absurdity, and suspicion with every smile you're shown. Play the role, and watch your back.
The Dai Li will not tolerate uninvited scrutiny. Their spies will watch your every step and are masters of twisting reality to suit their needs. If you sense something is off, trust your instincts; it probably is.
May your wits be as sharp as your Waterbending, and may your allies be worthy of the risk.
—Liang of Gaoling"
Rivka exhaled through his nose, rolling the scroll tight as the weight of Liang's warning settled in. The Dai Li. A secret police pulling the strings of the most powerful Earth Kingdom city while keeping its king ignorant?
"Lovely," he muttered, staring at the sprawling map of Ba Sing Se before him, "I'm walking into a den of dragons with a coat made of meat."
Rivka spent hours poring over lists of names, weighing the risks and benefits of each candidate. He needed a team capable of navigating Ba Sing Se's politics while staying ready for the inevitable danger lurking behind its walls.
The Fire Nation could offer skilled minds and steady hands, but Rivka knew that any overt show of force would worsen an already precarious position. His Water Tribe allies, meanwhile, would balance out the delegation, acting as a neutral anchor to help navigate suspicion. Arnook had been equally unimpressed with the Earth King's response and was now more apprehensive about the mission than before. He did, however, send his list of five people that Rivka would meet up with, leaving Rivka to figure out his people.
Finally, he settled on the following group:
Master Ren – The leader of Rivka's guard, Ren was a seasoned Firebending Master whose calm demeanour and unwavering loyalty made him Rivka's first choice. Ren's ability to stay composed under pressure and his experience in navigating both combat and strategy provided Rivka with a reliable cornerstone for the mission.
Lin – A skilled and observant member of Rivka's guard, Lin brought a sharp eye and a steady hand to the team. Though trained as a soldier, she had a natural talent for diplomacy, often disarming tensions with a well-timed observation or carefully chosen words. Rivka valued her adaptability and trusted her instincts to handle the subtleties of the Earth Kingdom court politics.
Lord Shingen – The scholar had all but insisted on joining. "A scholar's presence isn't optional for a mission like this," he'd argued. "You'll need someone who can parse the cultural nuances and keep you from making a misstep that turns an awkward moment into a diplomatic catastrophe." Shingen's deep knowledge of history and etiquette and his sardonic wit made him indispensable despite his occasional clashes with the more disciplined guards.
Jin – The quietest member of Rivka's team, Jin specialised in reconnaissance and intelligence. His ability to remain unnoticed and pick up on conversations others might wish to keep secret was a skill Rivka relied on when dealing with potential subterfuge. With rumours of Dai Li's involvement in Ba Sing Se, Rivka knew Jin would be essential to uncovering hidden truths.
Rivka - The delegation leader, Rivka, took on the dual responsibility of representing the Fire Nation and ensuring the success of their diplomatic mission. Though he often leaned on his team's strengths, Rivka's own experience in navigating delicate negotiations would be the key to securing their entry into Ba Sing Se and building a path toward cooperation with the Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom.
Water Tribe Members:
Master Pakku – As Rivka anticipated, the Northern Water Tribe sent Master Pakku, a formidable Waterbending master whose commanding presence demanded respect. Stiff in his manner and unyielding in his principles, Pakku's sharp pragmatism was balanced by his experience in navigating high-stakes political situations. While he wasn't the warmest presence, his skill and authority made him an essential part of the delegation.
Kuma – A healer and longtime ally of the delegation, Kuma was chosen for her calm demeanour and steadying influence. Her measured voice and empathetic approach complemented her deep knowledge of Earth Kingdom customs, which would help smooth over any cultural misunderstandings. Kuma's ability to mediate with patience made her an indispensable member of the team.
Malik – A scholar and translator, Malik specialised in Earth Kingdom languages, traditions, and political structures. His extensive time working alongside Earth Kingdom officials gave him unique insight into the region's complexities. Malik also had a pragmatic streak, knowing when to step back and let others lead. His presence ensured that the delegation's messages would be conveyed with precision and nuance.
Sira – One of the Northern Tribe's best young warriors and Pakku's protégé, Sira brought an undeniable fierceness to the team. While her boldness occasionally bordered on recklessness, her loyalty to the Tribe and their shared vision for peace was unwavering. She was a reminder of the strength the Water Tribe could offer, even in a diplomatic setting.
Narook – A skilled scout with experience navigating the Earth Kingdom terrain, Narook was known for his sharp instincts and ability to assess danger before it struck. His ability to avoid traps and navigate tricky landscapes ensured the delegation's safety, and his no-nonsense approach balanced the more idealistic personalities on the team.
Ren hovered near Rivka's desk as the names were finalised, arms crossed over his chest.
"Do you trust this team?"
"I trust you," Rivka said simply, "And that's good enough."
Ren gave a curt nod, the hint of a smile tugging at his usually stern expression.
"Then we'll be ready."
Rivka exhaled, pushing the scroll aside as he leaned back in his chair, "We'll need to be."
His eyes flicked to the sealed letter from Ba Sing Se's court, formally indifferent and almost mocking in tone.
"Imagine sending a personal letter from the Fire Lord himself and getting that as your response," Rivka muttered, shaking his head.
Ren snorted, the sound rare enough to draw Rivka's attention.
"Maybe they think you're not a real diplomat."
"I don't even think I want to hold a pen in their court at this point," Rivka shot back dryly.
The two shared a moment of quiet amusement before the task's weight settled back into the room. The laughter faded, but the resolve remained.
Ba Sing Se awaited, and Rivka would face it with the best team he could gather, ready or not.
Chapter 27: Preparing for the Unseen
Notes:
Huu a lil late, I finished a uni placement and got sick. If I'm not dead tomorrow, I'll upload another chapter :) Enjoyyyyy
02.06.25
Chapter Text
Rivka meticulously laid out the plan for their journey to Ba Sing Se across the table in Ozai's study. His team's documents, maps, and final names were neatly arranged, clear, precise, and airtight, as far as Rivka was concerned. He had already gone through it three times, yet the Fire Lord stood at his shoulder, eyes narrowed as he combed over every last detail again.
Rivka stifled a sigh, fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to fidget, "If you're hoping to find something wrong with this, Ozai, you're going to be disappointed."
Ozai ignored him, pointing at the map with a sharp, deliberate finger, "Your entry route; what makes you think the Earth Kingdom won't ambush you as soon as you cross the outer walls? Your team isn't large enough to defend against a coordinated strike."
"It's just large enough not to be seen as a threat," Rivka countered, voice even, "The Water Tribe's presence helps balance the perception. The Dai Li won't pounce unless they believe we're trying to take Ba Sing Se by force, and we aren't."
Ozai made a low sound that could have been agreement or disapproval in his throat. He straightened, pacing slowly behind Rivka as though he were sizing him up along with the plan.
"And you trust these Water Tribe envoys?" Ozai asked pointedly.
"Trust might be a generous word," Rivka replied carefully, "But we understand each other, and their involvement gives this mission credibility. If I walk in alone under your banner, the Earth Kingdom will think it's a trap. If the Water Tribe walks beside me, they'll have to consider the possibility that we're... genuine."
Ozai finally paused his pacing, tilting his head just enough to look down at Rivka.
"Genuine diplomacy from the Fire Nation?" he mused, his voice carrying the faintest edge of mockery, "How radical."
Rivka rolled his eyes, "Don't start."
The faintest smirk played at the corner of Ozai's mouth. He dropped back into his chair, folding his hands on the armrests as though finally willing to relent for the moment.
"And your robes?"
Rivka blinked, thrown off, "What?"
"Your robes, Rivka," Ozai repeated with deliberate slowness as though addressing a confused child, "Surely you aren't planning to walk into the Earth Kingdom's great city looking like a beggar in that travelling garb of yours."
Rivka let out a short, incredulous laugh, "You can't seriously think I need to worry about what I'm wearing."
"You're heading into the capital of our greatest enemy under the pretence of peace. Appearances will matter," Ozai's voice was deadpan, but Rivka recognized a glint in his eyes.
"Ah, yes, because nothing says 'trustworthy envoy' like strolling into Ba Sing Se draped in scarlet and gold," Rivka shot back.
"You could wear blue," Ozai replied dryly, "Or perhaps green, to blend in with the walls. Shingen seems to have thoughts on court fashion these days; maybe you should consult him."
Rivka's lips twitched despite himself, "You're joking."
"Only partially," Ozai leaned back, clearly taking some grim satisfaction in Rivka's exasperation, "Perhaps you should let Shingen dress you. It would give him something else to do besides filling your head with nonsense."
"Or I could wear a potato sack," Rivka replied flatly, "That would send the right message, wouldn't it?"
For a brief moment, silence hung between them before Ozai let out a rare, almost imperceptible chuckle. It was gone as quickly as it came, but Rivka caught it and saw how it softened the tension in Ozai's shoulders.
The Fire Lord rose once more, pacing back to the table.
"Enough talk of robes," he said briskly, though his tone had eased, "Your plan is solid, Rivka, but..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Be wary of overconfidence. The Dai Li are ruthless. If they see a weakness, they'll exploit it."
Rivka nodded, his tone quieter now, "I know."
Ozai studied him for a beat longer, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he turned toward the door.
"If you die in Ba Sing Se, I'll consider it inconvenient."
"How considerate of you," Rivka muttered under his breath as Ozai strode from the room.
The door closed with a muted thud, leaving Rivka alone with his maps and preparations. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily as he glanced at the papers Ozai had hovered over for far too long.
"Robes," Rivka muttered to himself with a faint shake of his head, "As if that's my biggest problem."
But despite the lingering tension, he couldn't help the small, tired smile tugging at his lips. At the very least, Ozai's half-hearted humour had reminded him that he wasn't walking into this alone and that counted for something.
The night in the Fire Nation palace was tranquil, save for the faint crackle of torches lining the corridors. Rivka lingered on one of the palace balconies, the cool night air a welcome reprieve from the day's stifling heat. The horizon was bathed in a deep crimson, the remnants of the setting sun fading into the inky expanse of night.
Below, the faint sounds of the harbour reached his ears, crates being shifted, orders barked by officers preparing for their mission. Everything felt poised on the edge of something monumental.
He let out a long breath, his thoughts drifting to the plan he'd so carefully crafted and the sharp scrutiny it had endured under Ozai's gaze. The Fire Lord's words still lingered in his mind: "Be wary of overconfidence." While Rivka wouldn't admit it aloud, he knew there was truth in the warning.
The sound of footsteps behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to find Shingen approaching, his silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight.
"Couldn't sleep?" Shingen asked, his voice low but carrying its usual warmth.
"Not yet," Rivka replied, his tone light but tired, "Too much on my mind."
Shingen joined him at the railing, leaning forward to glance at the distant harbour.
"I saw you leaving the Fire Lord's study earlier. Let me guess: he questioned everything down to the type of ink you used on your maps?"
A faint smile tugged at Rivka's lips, "Close enough. He even had opinions about my wardrobe."
"Ah, of course," Shingen said with a knowing nod, "The true mark of a tactical genius: colour coordination."
Rivka chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
"He did have a point, though. Perception matters. I've spent so much time focusing on the details of the mission, I hadn't thought much about how we'd look walking into Ba Sing Se."
"Trust me, you'll make an impression whether you're in royal silks or half-naked," Shingen replied with a grin, "But if it's any consolation, I had a set of formal Water Tribe and Fire Nation robes commissioned for you. Just in case."
Rivka raised an eyebrow, "And here I thought you were the practical one."
"Practicality doesn't mean ignoring politics," Shingen countered, "You're not just representing the Fire Nation, Rivka. You're representing the possibility of peace. That's bigger than any one of us."
Rivka nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the horizon. Shingen's words settled over him, heavy but grounding. After a long moment, Shingen straightened and patted Rivka's shoulder.
"Try to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"I'll try," Rivka replied, though he wasn't entirely convinced.
As Shingen walked away, Rivka lingered on the balcony a while longer, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubts, hopes, and quiet resolve.
...
The Fire Nation harbour was a hive of activity as Rivka stood with his Fire Nation team, overseeing the final preparations for their departure. Master Ren coordinated with the crew, his voice steady and commanding as he ensured their ship was stocked with supplies and weaponry, just enough to be prepared but insufficient to make them seem overly aggressive.
Shingen approached Rivka with a rolled-up scroll tucked under his arm.
"Here's the latest update from the Water Tribe. They'll meet us midway between the Western Air Temple and the Earth Kingdom waters in three days. Kuma's already suggested a possible landing point that minimises risk and keeps us out of sight from prying eyes."
Rivka nodded, thankful for the healer's insight, "Good. We'll need every advantage we can get once we're inland. What about our guide for Ba Sing Se?"
"The Earth Kingdom confirmed the guide will meet us just outside Gaoling. They're sending one of their... let's call them trusted operatives," Shingen unrolled the scroll and pointed to a section.
Rivka's brow furrowed, "That sounds suspiciously like the Dai Li."
"Most likely," Shingen said with a shrug, "But it's not as though we can waltz into Ba Sing Se unannounced. We'll have to take what we can get."
Nearby, Lin was meticulously inspecting her gear alongside Jin, quietly ensuring their weapons and supplies were ready for the journey. Lin caught Rivka's eye and gave him a quick nod of reassurance. Despite the task's weight, her presence was a steady anchor.
Ren joined him as Rivka moved to check the maps laid out on a table near the ship's bow.
"The crew's ready. Are you?"
"I don't think anyone's ever ready for this," Rivka admitted, his tone wry, "But we've done what we can. Once we rendezvous with the Water Tribe, we'll reassess and finalise our plan for the approach."
Ren glanced at the maps, his expression neutral, "And what's the plan if this goes sideways?"
Rivka didn't hesitate, "We keep the team together. Whatever happens, our priority is to ensure everyone makes it out alive. Diplomacy doesn't work if you lose the diplomats."
Ren gave a faint smirk, "Good answer."
A messenger hawk perched nearby and cried sharply, drawing Rivka's attention. A new message from the Water Tribe delegation had arrived. Rivka unrolled the note quickly, scanning the details.
"They're already en route," Rivka announced to the group, "We'll rendezvous in three days as planned. After that, we will make it to Gaoling to meet our guide."
The team nodded in unison, the weight of the journey settling over them.
As the ship pulled out of the harbour the following day, Rivka stood at the bow, watching the Fire Nation's shores shrink in the distance. He could feel the tension in the air, a mixture of anticipation and unease. His Fire Nation companions moved about the deck, their preparations precise and efficient. It starkly contrasted with the Water Tribe delegation, whose arrival in three days promised a balance of practicality and warmth.
This mission wasn't just about navigating the complexities of Ba Sing Se's politics; it was about uniting two nations that had been at war for decades. Rivka exhaled slowly, gripping the ship's railing. He could only hope their small team would survive the journey intact and accomplish what no one had dared to attempt.
The night before they were set to depart was slow. The dim glow of a single lantern flickered in Rivka's quarters, its soft light casting long shadows against the walls. He sat at the edge of his bed, hunched over a rolled map on the low table before him. His fingers traced familiar lines and routes, though his thoughts were elsewhere, already three days into the future, already navigating the treacherous walls of Ba Sing Se.
A faint knock startled him. It was so light it barely registered against the background hum of the ship's hull creaking in the water. Before Rivka could respond, the door eased open.
Ozai stepped inside, his silhouette sharp against the dim lantern light. He closed the door quickly but quietly, as though even being heard entering might betray him.
Rivka straightened instinctively, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with a practised calm.
"Ozai," he greeted, his voice even, "I wasn't expecting company."
"You leave before dawn," Ozai said, his voice low but stiff, each word clipped as if forced into place.
"That's the plan," Rivka replied, gesturing vaguely at the map on the table, "The harbour will be quiet, so there will be less chance of drawing attention."
Ozai nodded but didn't speak. Instead, his gaze flicked around the small room, landing briefly on Rivka's packed belongings near the bed before darting away again. The silence stretched uncomfortably so, and Rivka raised an eyebrow.
"Did you need something?" he prompted gently.
"I wanted..." Ozai began, but his voice faltered, and he cleared his throat sharply. His hands, clasped behind his back in a posture of authority, tightened, "I wanted to ensure that everything is prepared."
"It is," Rivka replied, his tone soft but steady, "I've gone over the plan enough times to execute it blindfolded, Ozai. I won't let your nation down."
"My nation," Ozai repeated under his breath, almost distractedly. His gaze finally settled on Rivka, and something flickered there: uncertainty, perhaps, or hesitation. He took a stiff step forward, the movement awkward, as though he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself.
"You..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. Rivka waited, curiosity sparking beneath his calm exterior.
"You've made yourself indispensable," Ozai finally said, though the words came out strangely as if he wasn't quite sure how to frame them, "This mission requires success. I expect you to ensure it."
Rivka tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think you've already said that."
Ozai's brows drew together, and for a moment, he looked like he might bristle at the remark, but instead of retorting, he hesitated, his gaze flicking away again. His fingers flexed at his sides before he took another awkward step forward.
Then, without warning, he reached out and clumsily patted Rivka's shoulder. It was not a firm grip or reassuring clasp but a series of quick, awkward taps. It was the gesture one might reserve for a soldier heading into battle or an acquaintance you didn't quite know how to comfort. Rivka blinked, caught off guard by the gesture's sheer awkwardness. A grin threatened to break through his composed expression, but he bit it back.
"Goodnight," Ozai blurted, straightening as if to compensate for the slip in his usual commanding demeanour.
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode to the door. He paused briefly in the doorway as though he might say something else, but then, he stiffened and disappeared into the hall, the door clicking shut behind him.
Rivka stared after him, the silence in the room stretching long after Ozai's departure. Slowly, a small, bemused smile crept onto his lips, and he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.
"Goodnight, Ozai," he murmured to the empty room, his voice carrying affection and amusement.
He turned back to the map, though his focus had shifted. For the first time that evening, the weight of the mission felt a little lighter.
Chapter 28: Threads of Alliance
Notes:
Woo I'm procrastinating studying and publishing early. Also, completely let the two of them have a moment of physical contact before whisking Rivka away into politics he has no idea about <3 Romance TBC I guess lmfao.
*Still sick 05.06.25
Chapter Text
As Rivka stepped onto the deck, the harbour was shrouded in pre-dawn darkness, the faint chill of the night still clinging to the air. The ship was alive with quiet activity, Fire Nation soldiers and crew moving like shadows, their movements efficient and disciplined. The hiss of steam engines and the gentle lapping of water against the hull filled the silence.
Rivka leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the barely discernible horizon. The Fire Nation's coastline was fading behind them, a dark silhouette against the deep indigo sky. He tried to focus on the mission ahead, but Ozai's awkward gesture from the night before kept replaying in his mind.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself. What in the spirit's name was that? He could still feel the phantom weight of those hurried pats on his shoulder, their clumsy, uncertain rhythm.
"What's so amusing?"
Rivka turned to see Master Ren approaching, his sharp features softened by the dim light. The elder Firebender moved with a quiet authority, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside him were Lin and Jin, both bright-eyed despite the early hour, their youthful energy in stark contrast to the hushed stillness around them.
"Nothing," Rivka replied, waving a hand dismissively, "Just... thinking."
Ren raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn't press further, "We've got a long journey ahead. Would you like to join us for some training? Better than letting your thoughts wander too far."
Rivka hesitated. The offer was tempting, but the rhythmic flow of the water around the ship called to him more strongly.
"Maybe later," he said, "For now, I think I'll lend the ship some speed. We've got a lot of distance to cover."
Ren nodded, accepting the answer without question. He gestured for Lin and Jin to follow him, the pair trailing after their master toward an open section of the deck.
Left alone, Rivka turned his attention to the sea. He closed his eyes, reaching out to the water surrounding the ship with his senses. The current was steady, but he could feel the potential energy within it, waiting to be guided.
He raised his arms, his movements fluid and precise, and the water responded. Beneath the surface, the current shifted a subtle but deliberate push that accelerated the ship's progress. The vessel surged forward, cutting through the waves with newfound ease.
Rivka focused on maintaining the flow, his mind drifting back to Ozai despite himself. He couldn't share the Fire Lord's antics with anyone without inviting questions he wasn't ready to answer, but the memory lingered, a strange mix of humour and something else he couldn't quite name.
"Everything all right, Master Rivka?" Lin's voice cut through his thoughts.
He glanced over his shoulder to see the younger Firebender watching him curiously, her stance relaxed but attentive. Jin was a few paces behind her, practising forms under Ren's watchful eye.
"Just keeping us on course," Rivka replied, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Lin tilted her head, studying him for a moment before shrugging, "If you say so."
She turned back to her training, leaving Rivka to his work. The ship pressed on, its steady progress carrying them toward the Water Tribe delegation. Rivka poured his focus into the Waterbending, using the rhythm of the waves to quiet his thoughts.
But even as the horizon began to brighten with the first hints of dawn, he couldn't quite shake the image of Ozai standing awkwardly in his room, patting his shoulder like a soldier heading to battle. The sun broke over the horizon, its first rays catching on the water's surface, painting it gold. The ship had been making good time under Rivka's subtle guidance, and the rhythmic exertion of bending had steadied his mind. Yet, the Firelord's clumsy attempt at affection lingered, sneaking into his thoughts when he least expected it.
He sighed, letting the current flow to its natural rhythm. The ship slowed slightly but still pressed forward, cutting a sure path through the gentle waves. Rivka leaned against the railing, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow as the first full light of morning bathed the deck.
Ren approached again, this time with a steaming cup of tea in his hand, "You've been at this since we departed," the older man said, offering the cup.
Rivka accepted it with a nod of thanks.
"Keeping busy helps," he said simply, though his smile betrayed that his mind had wandered somewhere far more personal than tactics or missions.
Ren studied him for a moment before joining him at the railing, "You're a man of action, Rivka, but even you need to pace yourself. Ba Sing Se won't fall apart in the time it takes to drink tea."
Rivka chuckled, taking a sip of the strong tea. The heat of the tea spread through him, cutting the lingering chill of the morning air.
"I'm not worried about Ba Sing Se," he admitted, letting his gaze drift to the horizon, "I'm worried about... all of this."
Ren followed his gaze but said nothing, waiting for Rivka to continue.
"This alliance. This mission. It's uncharted waters, in every sense of the word," Rivka frowned, his voice quieter, "There's no room for mistakes, and yet we're all human. We carry our histories, our biases, our... vulnerabilities."
Ren's lips twitched into a small smile, "It's rare to hear you speak about vulnerability, Rivka. You always seem so steady, as if nothing could shake you."
Rivka huffed a soft laugh, "Even the strongest tides have their shifts. Besides..." He hesitated, swirling the tea in his cup, "Even the Fire Lord, it seems, is human after all."
Ren shot him a sharp look, curiosity sparking in his eyes, but Rivka didn't elaborate. The thought of explaining last night's awkward encounter made him smirk again, but he kept the moment to himself. Before Ren could press further, Lin called from across the deck, "Master Ren! Jin's forms are getting sloppy again."
Ren sighed and straightened, shaking his head, "That boy wouldn't know discipline if it hit him over the head."
He looked at Rivka once more, his expression softening, "You've done more than enough this morning. Take a moment to rest, Rivka. The weight of this mission doesn't fall on your shoulders alone."
With that, Ren strode off to attend to his pupils, leaving Rivka alone with his thoughts once more. As the day wore on, Rivka forced himself to step away from the railing, distracting himself with light sparring sessions with Lin and Jin. Their youthful energy was infectious, and their banter brought a welcome levity to the morning. Yet, even as they exchanged blows and techniques, Rivka couldn't shake the warmth lingering in his chest, a strange, stubborn comfort brought on by Ozai's unpolished attempt at sincerity.
Lord Shingen came to stand beside him with a humoured smile but offered little in the way of conversation other than the odd comment about the tea brew. It seemed the scholar had all but been locked away, rereading some of his scrolls while he could, maybe even writing out documentation.
The sun climbed higher, its heat reflecting off the water as the ship continued toward its rendezvous point with the Water Tribe delegation. Rivka allowed himself a small moment of hope despite the uncertainty of the path ahead.
The three days of travel passed in a steady rhythm. Rivka alternated between sparring with Lin and Jin, bending the current to keep the ship's speed steady, and stealing rare moments of rest. The Fire Nation crew kept to themselves, though their wary glances toward Rivka's bending didn't go unnoticed.
Ozai's absence loomed as both a relief and an irritation. While his commanding presence wasn't there to stoke tensions or complicate matters, Rivka couldn't help but recall their last exchange. It lingered like a pebble in his shoe, an awkward display of concern that felt out of place for the stoic Fire Lord.
By the third evening, the distant peaks of the Earth Kingdom came into view, marking their approach to the rendezvous point. The crew bustled with quiet anticipation, their movements efficient as they prepared for the meeting. Lord Shingen was an ink-stained mess, having decided to start his documentation of the journey and been nose-deep in scrolls.
The Water Tribe team was assembled by the time the Fire Nation ship pulled into the makeshift dock, their silhouettes sharp against the fading light of dusk. Rivka's heart lifted slightly at the sight of Master Pakku, standing with his arms crossed and his usual air of no-nonsense authority. Beside him were Kuma, the quiet and skilled healer; Malik, a young but promising scholar who had spent time on the Earth Kingdom's shores learning; Sira, known for her warrior skills and calm demeanour; and Narook, who balanced a cheerful disposition with undeniable skill in stealth and scouting.
"Master Rivka," Captain Ren said from behind him, snapping him from his thoughts, "The gangplank is ready."
Rivka nodded, stepping forward to lead the Fire Nation group. His gaze lingered on the Water Tribe delegation as he descended, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It had been years since he'd stood among his people in such an official capacity.
As Rivka approached, Pakku stepped forward, his expression as stern as Rivka remembered.
"Master Rivka," Pakku greeted, his tone formal, though there was an undertone of warmth in the way his eyes softened, "You've not aged a day."
Rivka chuckled, inclining his head, "And you've not changed a bit, Master Pakku. Still as gruff as ever."
Pakku's lips twitched in what could almost be a smile before his gaze shifted to the Fire Nation soldiers assembling behind Rivka. His expression hardened slightly, though he gave a polite nod to Captain Ren.
"Welcome, then," Pakku said, his tone neutral, "We've established a camp just beyond the tree line. It's away from prying eyes and defensible."
"A sensible choice," Rivka replied. He turned to Captain Ren and gestured, "Let's move out."
The combined groups set off together, the Fire Nation soldiers and Water Tribe warriors maintaining a cautious distance from one another. Lin and Jin kept close to Rivka, their sharp eyes scanning the unfamiliar terrain. Lord Shingen looked a little like a lost child, sticking towards Master Ren and Rivka as the others explored.
As they walked, Rivka fell into step with Pakku. The older Waterbender's gaze flicked toward him, assessing as always.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Rivka," Pakku murmured, his voice low enough that only Rivka could hear.
"Change never comes easily, Master Pakku," Rivka replied, his tone calm but firm, "We've both seen enough of the world to know that."
Pakku's expression didn't waver, though his eyes held a flicker of something concerned, perhaps?
"Let's hope your faith in this... arrangement is well-placed."
Ahead, Kuma glanced over her shoulder at Rivka, offering him a subtle nod. Malik and Narook were already talking in low voices, though their occasional glances toward the Fire Nation soldiers hinted at their unease. Sira walked with quiet grace, her calm presence steadying the group.
When they reached the campsite, the neutral ground was well-chosen. Small fire pits and simple shelters had been prepared, with enough space for both groups to coexist without crowding. The flickering flames cast long shadows as night fell, the tension between the two groups palpable but manageable.
The journey through the Earth Kingdom was demanding. As their caravan pressed forward, the landscape changed from rocky highlands to dense forests. They kept to little-used paths, avoiding main roads to stay out of sight. The travel was quiet at first, with the Fire Nation soldiers moving in disciplined silence. Their demeanour was a stark contrast to that of the Water Tribe delegation, who spoke freely, their voices filling the spaces between the crunch of boots and the creak of their supplies. Lord Shingen, of all people, had taken to chatting to the friendlier of the bunch about anything he could think of.
During one of their rare midday stops, by the edge of a river, the tension began to surface. Rivka crouched at the bank, bending the cool water to fill their canteens. Nearby, Kuma and Sira worked together to organise supplies, while Pakku and Master Ren stood in quiet conversation under the shade of a tree.
Rivka glanced at the two masters. Their low tones carried just enough to reveal a hint of disagreement. Curious, he moved closer as Pakku's voice sharpened.
"This mission is not just about talking," Pakku said, his arms crossed, his stance rigid, "It's about walking into a situation where the odds are stacked against us. If even one thing goes wrong, we're all at risk. I wonder if your Fire Nation contingent understands that."
Master Ren, ever calm, smiled slightly, "We understand perfectly well, Master Pakku, but do you trust us enough to work as allies?"
Pakku frowned, his gaze flickering toward Rivka before returning to Ren, "Trust doesn't come easily, and it doesn't come quickly. Your people will have to earn it."
Rivka cleared his throat, stepping closer, "We're all here because we see the stakes, Master Pakku. This mission is about more than our nations. It's about ending something that's bled the world dry for far too long."
Pakku turned to Rivka, his expression unreadable, "And what makes you so certain we can succeed? Diplomacy only works when both sides see value in compromise."
"Because we have to try," Rivka replied firmly, "The war hasn't just hurt the Fire Nation or the Water Tribes. It's left scars across the Earth Kingdom, too. If we don't start rebuilding trust now, there won't be much of a world left to rebuild later."
Kuma stepped over, her arms crossed loosely, "You're both right," she said, her tone a blend of calm and seriousness.
"This mission is dangerous, and compromise is fragile, but isn't that exactly why we were chosen for this? Because we're stubborn enough to try, even when it looks impossible?"
The tension eased slightly as Pakku gave a small nod, "Stubbornness may be our only advantage."
The conversation shifted later that evening as the group gathered around without a fire, the moon's dim light barely illuminating their faces. Sira spoke first, her youthful voice breaking the silence.
"I don't understand why the Earth Kingdom is even involved," she said, glancing between the others, "Why would they want to listen to us after everything that's happened?"
"They're not listening to us," Malik said, leaning back against his pack, "They're listening to their own fears. Ba Sing Se's walls have kept them safe, but walls don't last forever. They know the Fire Nation could breach them one day, and they're trying to hedge their bets."
Rivka nodded thoughtfully, "It's true. The Earth Kingdom isn't here for peace; they're here to protect their own interests. That doesn't mean we can't use that to our advantage. We might have a chance if we show them that peace is the best way to secure their safety."
Pakku grunted, "That's a lot of 'ifs,' Rivka. Don't let idealism blind you to reality."
"And don't let cynicism stop you from seeing an opportunity," Kuma shot back, "We've been fighting for decades, Master Pakku. Isn't it worth trying if there's even a sliver of hope that this can work?"
Narook, who had been quiet until now, added, "It's not just about hope. It's about strength. If we walk into Ba Sing Se divided, they'll sense it. They'll tear us apart before we can even open negotiations. If we want this to work, we need to trust each other. That means Fire Nation and Water Tribe both."
Rivka looked around at the group, his resolve hardening, "Narook's right. This isn't just about politics; it's about showing them that we can stand together, despite everything. If we can't do that, we've already lost."
The group mumbled their agreements, somewhat still ajar, before settling for the night. There seemed to be more of a gap in their ideologies than anticipated, but nothing that would quickly jeopardise them. Rivka struggled to fall asleep for yet another night as his mind kept jumping around and his nerves refused to settle. Sleeping on the camping mats had been a switch up from the luxury of the beds in the palace, but was still several steps up from what he'd aclimatised to sleeping in cells.
Chapter 29: Navigating Allegiances
Chapter Text
The group had settled into a loose circle beneath the sprawling canopy of an ancient banyan tree. The air was cooler here, shaded from the afternoon sun, but the tension lingered as thick as ever. A small fire crackled in the centre, its flickering light reflecting off the disparate uniforms and expressions of Fire Nation red and Water Tribe blue.
It was Kuma who finally broke the silence, "This isn't going to work."
All eyes turned to him, some curious, others defensive.
"What isn't?" Master Ren asked, his tone measured but sharp.
"This," Kuma said, gesturing vaguely at the group, "We're supposed to be representing unity, but we barely speak to each other unless it's necessary. How do you think that's going to look in Ba Sing Se? Like we're just another alliance of convenience that'll fall apart the moment things get hard."
Sira shifted, her expression thoughtful, "He's not wrong. The Earth Kingdom is watching for any sign of weakness. If we can't even hold a conversation, how can we expect them to trust us?"
"I agree," Rivka said, drawing their attention, "But we need more than small talk. What we're asking of Ba Sing Se, of the entire world, is bigger than anything we have ever faced. We can't expect them to take us seriously if we don't understand each other first."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Master Pakku asked, his tone sceptical but not dismissive.
Rivka let the question hang in the air for a moment. His gaze swept the group, lingering briefly on each face.
"By being honest. About why we're here, what's at stake, and what we're willing to risk. I'll start, if you'll listen."
Kuma folded his arms but nodded. Sira and Narook exchanged glances, their curiosity evident. Even Master Pakku leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Rivka.
The Fire Nation soldiers were more guarded, but Rivka could see the flicker of interest in their eyes. Master Ren inclined his head, gesturing for him to continue.
"Alright," Rivka said, taking a steadying breath, "Then let me tell you about the first time I understood what it meant to fight for peace."
Rivka started his story hoping to get both sides to listen with a bang.
"I was initially captured and held prisoner by the Fire Nation's military due to my interference on both Earth and Water border fronts."
The group fell dead silent, all eyes were on Rivka.
"I was in a unique position to challenge my role as a prisoner due to a snide remark. I participated in an Agni Kai and presented my abilities in front of the court and military individuals of the Royal Palace, including the Fire Lord. Shortly after being recognised as his soulmate, I eventually decided to pursue a future where my soulmate would not be my political enemy, and I could live in peace. I have been gifted the opportunity to make an impact on this war and affect the outcomes of political relations between the remaining nations so we can start to recover from 100 years of war."
Rivka paused momentarily, looking at Master Pakku when he spoke next.
"I was born and raised within the Northern Tribe's domain. My father was sent to fight the Fire Nation in an attack, and my mother lost herself once he passed in said battle. I have always been a Waterbender first, but now I am also a piece of political chess for the Fire Nation to use. I have decided that I will be anyone I need to be to end this war."
"So this is completely selfish?"
"Yes and no," Rivka scoffed, "Who wouldn't benefit from me trying to talk everyone out of war? It sucks, the royal court thinks I deserved the cell and those who listen often can't help me very much. I offered to start these talks in Ba Sing Se to save attacking the city for an occupation attempt."
Rivka let that sit.
"If I get my way and we hash out the politics, we get one huge step closer to the end of the war. If this falls through, I don't know what happens, and if we end up dead, I can guarantee Ba Sing Se will fall."
Some of the others didn't know what to think. Lord Shingen, in particular, looked a bit too pale at the end of Rivka's explanation. Master Ren had proven himself and decided to verbally aid Rivka, agreeing with his cause before others joined in with their own experiences and pasts, and if they could believe in the world Rivka was speaking of. Master Pakku seemed to have taken the idea a bit more seriously after the conversations finished. Before long, they were on the road again, but that awkward tension had finally snapped.
...
The group's journey through the Earth Kingdom had been largely uneventful until they reached the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. The towering walls of the ancient city loomed in the distance, their imposing silhouette cutting through the horizon. Yet, instead of heading toward the massive gates that symbolised the city's strength, their guide, a quiet, sharp-eyed agent named Feng, led them off the beaten path.
"You will follow me," Feng instructed curtly, "Stay close and say nothing unless spoken to."
Master Pakku raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his expression steely. Sira and Narook exchanged uneasy glances while Kuma's hand hovered near the hilt of his blade. On the Fire Nation side, Master Ren's face was unreadable, though Lin and Jin flanked the group with practised ease, their postures wary. Rivka, as always, kept to the middle, his expression calm but watchful.
Feng led them to a narrow path that wound down into a rocky ravine. The air grew cooler and damp with the scent of earth and stone. At the base of the ravine, a narrow tunnel yawned open, its entrance framed by jagged rock formations.
"This way," Feng said, stepping inside without hesitation.
The tunnel was dark, lit only by faint torches mounted on the walls at irregular intervals. The sound of dripping water echoed faintly, and the group's footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the confined space.
"This doesn't feel like an official welcome," Kuma muttered under his breath.
"Because it isn't," Rivka replied quietly, "This is likely a precaution."
"A precaution against what?" Narook asked.
"Against us," Ren said flatly.
The group fell silent after that, their unease palpable.
After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel widened into a dimly lit chamber. At its centre was a heavy stone door, flanked by two agents who stepped aside as Feng approached. Feng pressed his hand against the door with a quick, precise motion. Earthbending surged through the stone, and the door rumbled open to reveal a larger, better-lit chamber beyond.
A small table with a map of Ba Sing Se spread across it was set up inside. Several chairs surrounded the table, and a third agent, older and dressed in slightly more ornate robes, stood waiting.
"Welcome," the agent said, his voice smooth and measured, "I am Liang. I will oversee your transition into Ba Sing Se."
"We appreciate your cooperation," Rivka said, stepping forward with a respectful nod.
Liang's gaze swept over the group, sharp and assessing, "You've all been briefed on the protocols, I assume?"
"We have," Master Pakku replied.
"Good. Then you understand that this operation requires absolute discretion. The presence of Fire Nation and Water Tribe delegates in the city will not go unnoticed, and we cannot afford any... incidents."
"Understood," Ren said, his tone clipped.
Liang's eyes lingered on Rivka for a moment longer than the others.
"Your group will proceed into the Lower Ring under my escort. From there, you will be handed over to the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, which will finalise your lodging and itinerary. Until then, you are to remain together and refrain from engaging with the local populace unless absolutely necessary."
Sira bristled, "Are we prisoners or diplomats?"
Liang's expression didn't waver, "You are guests, with all the privileges and restrictions that entail. I trust you will act accordingly."
The tension in the room was thick as the group exchanged wary glances. Rivka stepped forward again, his voice calm but firm.
"We understand the risks involved, Liang. You can count on us to uphold our part of the agreement."
Liang studied him for a moment before nodding, "Very well. Follow me."
The next leg of their journey took them through a labyrinth of underground passages, each more intricate than the last. As they walked, Rivka couldn't help but notice the subtle markers etched into the stone signs of Earthbender craftsmanship, symbols of the Dai Li's control over this hidden network.
"Quite the operation they've got here," Kuma muttered.
"Efficient, if nothing else," Pakku said.
As they emerged into the Lower Ring, the stark contrast between the underground chambers and the bustling streets was striking. The air was filled with the hum of life vendors calling out their wares, children darting between stalls, and the distant sound of music. Yet the group's presence drew curious and wary looks from the locals, their mixed uniforms marking them as outsiders.
Liang paused at the edge of the marketplace, his gaze scanning the crowd, "Your escort will meet us at the Ministry. Keep moving."
As they followed him through the crowded streets, Rivka felt the weight of their mission pressing down on him. The whispers and glances from the locals reminded him just how fragile this alliance was. But as he glanced back at his companions, Fire Nation and Water Tribe walking side by side, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope.
They were unlikely, but they were here, and Rivka thought that was a start.
The Ministry of Cultural Affairs was a stark, imposing building near the boundary between the Lower and Middle Rings. Its stone facade bore the intricate carvings of Earth Kingdom artistry, though the sheer scale of the structure dwarfed its details. The group's arrival drew guarded stares from the ministry staff. They were met by a sharp-featured official who introduced herself as Administrator Mei-Lin.
"I trust your journey was uneventful," Mei-Lin said, her tone brisk and businesslike as she scanned their mixed party. Her gaze lingered briefly on Rivka before she motioned them inside.
The air within the ministry was cool and quiet, a marked contrast to the chaotic streets outside. Rivka could feel the undercurrent of tension from his companions as they were led through the halls, their footsteps echoing against polished stone floors.
"Our Upper Ring building will serve as your point of contact with the Earth Kingdom's diplomatic corps," Mei-Lin explained as they passed through a series of ornately decorated chambers, "Your official meetings will take place there, and all correspondence to and from the palace will be routed through our offices."
"And our lodgings?" Pakku asked, his voice calm but firm.
"You'll be staying in the Upper Ring," Mei-Lin replied without breaking stride, "A guest estate has been prepared for your delegation. You will have access to certain amenities, though your movements will be monitored for security purposes."
"Monitored by who?" Sira interjected, her tone carrying a hint of defiance.
Mei-Lin didn't answer; she smiled and carried on her way. Rivka thought it better to open his mouth and gestured for the team to do the same. That was weird.
Chapter 30: A Game of Patience
Notes:
Late but here!! Enjoy :)
Chapter Text
The Ministry of Cultural Affairs had stations in every ring of Ba Sing Se, but the Upper Ring station was the most elusive. Its understated exterior blended seamlessly with the city's grand architecture, a calculated design to avoid drawing attention.
Rivka and his team arrived at the Upper Ring station late in the afternoon, their carriage halting in front of a nondescript building flanked by two silent attendants in muted green robes. Administrator Mei-Lin stepped out first, her composure as rigid as ever.
"This will serve as your operational base for the duration of your stay," she said as they disembarked, "Your dealings will be conducted here. The Earth King's court and the citizens of Ba Sing Se are not to be disturbed or approached unless explicitly instructed."
Mei-Lin led them inside, where the stark exterior gave way to a meticulously organised interior. The walls were lined with scrolls, maps, and documents, and the air carried the faint scent of parchment and ink. The lack of natural light gave the space an enclosed, almost secretive feel.
As they moved deeper into the station, Mei-Lin gestured toward a private chamber set with a long, low table.
"You'll remain here during the majority of your time in the city. Accommodations have been arranged nearby, and food will be brought to you. Interaction with the local populace is strictly prohibited for your safety and ours."
"Prohibited?" Sira asked, her tone sharp, "How are we supposed to get a sense of the city if we're locked away like prisoners?"
"Your purpose here is diplomacy, not sightseeing. Ba Sing Se operates on the principles of order and secrecy. The less attention your presence draws, the smoother this process will be," Mei-Lin's expression didn't waver.
"Seems more like we're being hidden away," Kuma muttered under his breath, earning a warning glance from Pakku.
Mei-Lin ignored the remark and continued, her voice clipped.
"You'll find all necessary supplies at your accommodations. An escort will oversee your movements between the estate and this station. Anything you require beyond these parameters must be approved through my office."
"Efficient," Pakku remarked with a faint edge of sarcasm.
"Necessary," Mei-Lin replied coolly, "I trust you understand the importance of discretion."
Lord Shingen, who had remained quiet until then, let out a soft, thoughtful hum, "A society this tightly wound often fears a single thread pulled too quickly. We are that thread, it seems," He glanced at Mei-Lin.
"I wonder, Administrator, do you fear disruption because of what it might unravel... or because of what it might reveal?"
Mei-Lin blinked once, but gave no response.
The steward then appeared, guiding the group back to their carriage. The ride to their estate was brief, but the streets of the Upper Ring felt unnervingly quiet. Their lodging sat behind high stone walls, grand, secluded, and silent.
Inside, the estate was every bit as luxurious as Rivka had expected. Spacious rooms, intricately carved furniture, and a central garden with a koi pond starkly contrasted the rigid confines of the Ministry station. Yet despite the beauty, the air was heavy with unease.
"They're keeping us out of sight, but not out of mind," Pakku said as the group gathered in the main hall.
"That much is obvious," Sira agreed, pacing near the windows, "But why? Are they afraid we'll cause a scene, or is there something they're not telling us?"
"Likely both," Rivka said, "The Earth Kingdom prides itself on order. No matter how peaceful our intentions, a delegation like ours disrupts the story they tell themselves."
"A disruption," Shingen echoed, folding his hands in his sleeves, "Or a test case. We stand at the intersection of old grudges and new possibilities. It's easier for them to observe from a distance than engage directly."
Kuma leaned against the wall, arms crossed, "So we're just supposed to sit here until they decide we're not a threat?"
"It's not a waste if we use it wisely," Rivka said, his tone firm but measured, "We've got a chance to plan. If we're going to present a united front, it starts here."
"A confined scholar still has scrolls to read and arguments to win," Shingen said dryly, "Let's not waste the opportunity to dissect what kind of society would gild its cage this finely."
The mood softened slightly. Later that evening, as Rivka stood alone in the courtyard, he heard footsteps behind him.
"You're thinking too loudly again," Shingen said, joining him beneath the flowering trees.
Rivka exhaled a faint laugh, "It's hard not to when the entire city is listening and pretending not to be."
"The Earth Kingdom believes in weight," Shingen murmured, "Not speed. They'll judge us by how well we endure stalling, not by how clever we sound."
"Guess I'll have to be clever and patient," Rivka muttered. "That's unfair."
The next day, a new routine emerged. Mornings began with etiquette lessons in the estate's grand hall. Jia, the Ministry's instructor, wasted no time asserting control.
"The Earth Kingdom is built on stability," she said, pacing like a general, "From mountain to pebble, all things have a place. You must find yours in the court without causing imbalance."
The first lesson was on bowing. Jia's demonstrations were precise. Malik's was too shallow. Sira's too deep. Rivka, ever the performer, added a bit too much flair.
"Master Rivka," Jia said, unimpressed, "this is not a performance."
"Isn't it?" he replied with a smirk, "The court is a stage, and we're all trying not to forget our lines."
Behind her, Shingen chuckled softly, "He's not wrong. The philosopher Lao Yu once said: The mask worn long enough becomes the face. We might as well learn how to wear it properly."
Jia's eyes narrowed, more in recognition than annoyance.
Evenings were reserved for strategy. Lanterns cast warm light as they gathered in the courtyard.
"Our goal is to establish trust," Pakku said, "That won't happen if we look divided."
"And what of the Dai Li?" Malik asked, "Do we address them? Or pretend they're not there?"
"Neither," Pakku answered.
"Pretending would be an insult to their intelligence," Shingen added, "But speaking of them too openly invites a counter-move. Best to act as though you understand the rules, even when they're hidden."
"You sound like you've played this game before," Sira said.
"I've read the books of those who did," he replied with a shrug, "The Earth Kingdom excels at slow victories."
"And we," Rivka said, picking up his teacup, "have a talent for surviving pressure. Let's see who outlasts whom."
A shared grin flickered around the circle, quiet but resolute.
His antics earned a few chuckles, even from Jia, who quickly concealed her amusement.
The evenings were dedicated to strategy, with the group gathering around a low courtyard table. Lanterns hung from the eaves, casting a warm glow over the scene. Pakku often took the lead, his commanding presence anchoring the discussions.
"Our primary goal is to establish trust," Pakku said during one such meeting, "That won't happen if we come across as divided or uncertain. We need to present a unified front, no matter what happens in that room."
Malik leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
"What about the Dai Li? They're keeping an eye on us. Do we address their presence or pretend not to notice?"
"Neither," Pakku replied, "We acknowledge them through our actions, not our words. The Dai Li thrive on control and secrecy. If we act like we're unfazed by their surveillance, it will give us an edge."
Sira tapped her fingers on the table, her expression thoughtful, "And what about the Fire Nation's involvement? Let's be honest, most people in the Earth Kingdom don't trust them, and for good reason. How do we handle that?"
The group fell silent, and all eyes turned to Rivka. He leaned back, his gaze fixed on the stars overhead as he considered his response.
"We don't deny the Fire Nation's role in the war," he said finally, "But we frame it as a lesson learned. We're here to build a future, not dwell on the past. It might be enough to open the door if we can show that the Fire Nation is willing to make amends."
"And if they slam it in our faces?" Kuma asked, his tone blunt.
"Then we keep knocking," Pakku said firmly, "This isn't a mission for the faint-hearted. If we falter, it will only confirm their doubts."
The group discussed potential scenarios, from hostile questioning to unexpected alliances. They debated how to approach each faction within the court and how to counter the inevitable scepticism.
As the plans took shape, Rivka found himself quietly observing the team. Despite their differences, they were beginning to operate as a cohesive unit. Sira's sharp instincts balanced Malik's boldness. Kuma's practicality tempered Rivka's idealism, and Master Pakku, with his years of experience, provided the steady hand they all needed alongside Master Ren.
The evenings were dedicated to strategy. Each night, the group gathered around a low courtyard table where lanterns swung gently from the eaves, casting pools of warm, golden light that danced across maps and scrolls.
Master Pakku often took the lead, his voice firm, his presence steady.
"Our primary goal is to establish trust," he said during one such meeting, "That won't happen if we come across as divided or uncertain. We need to present a unified front, no matter what happens in that room."
"Diplomatic attrition," Shingen added, leaning in with a wry smile, "But even attrition requires precision. We must understand their narrative to challenge it."
Shingen quickly became an essential voice in the group, not through command like Pakku or emotion like Rivka, but through ideology. He dissected the Earth Kingdom's customs like a scholar dismantling a puzzle, often irritating Malik and amusing Sira, but his insights stuck.
They debated potential outcomes late into the night: manipulation from the Dai Li, political traps hidden behind courteous gestures, the danger of giving too much ground. Even Ren, usually silent in these gatherings, voiced concern over the political tightrope they walked.
By evening's end, a plan took shape, measured, cautious, ready to pivot when needed. And for all their differences, Rivka noticed the way they'd begun to move as one. Pakku's wisdom, Sira's instincts, Malik's boldness, Kuma's grounded strength. Ren and Shingen brought strategy and vision, while Jin and Lin offered practical judgment and discretion.
They weren't just diplomats. They were a team.
The group stood in the antechamber of the Earth Kingdom palace, the weight of their formal robes matching the tension in the air. Deep emeralds and muted golds clung to them like ceremonial armour, ornate, stifling, political.
Rivka adjusted his sleeves and muttered, "I swear, these layers could stop a sword."
Kuma snorted quietly, "They might need to."
Their humour dissolved as a figure emerged from the shadows, a Dai Li agent in slate-toned robes. The agent's voice was smooth, cold.
"In Ba Sing Se, there is no war. You will not speak of conflict, nor question what lies beyond these walls. This is a place of peace. Remember that."
Then they vanished, leaving behind only silence.
"No war?" Malik echoed, "Is that supposed to be a joke?"
"They don't want their version of peace disturbed," Pakku said carefully.
"It's not peace," Rivka said, "It's denial dressed in green silk."
Shingen folded his arms, thoughtful, "It's a controlled narrative. If people believe the war never touched this city, they'll never question the cost of that illusion."
The banquet hall opened before them, vaulted ceilings, murals of mountains and harvests, chandeliers flickering with pale green light. It was grand and distant, a world apart from the rest of the continent.
The delegation was introduced with polite nods and vague smiles. There was no fanfare, no warmth. Their seats were strategically placed, centred, visible, but not honoured.
Rivka scanned the room. There was no Earth King, no military advisors. These were social elites, not decision-makers.
"Is this a banquet or a stage play?" he murmured to Kuma.
Kuma's lips barely moved, "We're the performance."
As the evening unfolded, the pattern became clear. Toasts praised Ba Sing Se's 'resilience' and 'harmony,' avoiding the war entirely. Any reference to conflict was absent, scrubbed clean from polite discourse.
"This peace isn't real," Sira whispered, "It's curated."
"And silence is the ticket to staying inside," Malik said.
When prompted to speak, Pakku stood and offered a neutral toast on unity through cultural understanding. His words were met with careful applause. But Rivka caught the glances that followed, assessing, measuring.
The nobles responded to questions with pleasant evasions. Military matters? They were redirected to art. Politics? They were swallowed by architecture. Every conversation led to a dead end lined with gold.
Frustration simmered beneath their courtesy. Shingen, always composed, leaned closer to Rivka at one point and murmured, "This city is a locked box and the key isn't language, it's leverage."
Back at their estate that night, the tension broke like a snapped string. They gathered in the sitting room, the air heavy.
"They've sealed this city in a bubble," Malik said, pacing, "No one cares or pretends not to."
"They've rewritten the story," Sira said, "There is no war. Just a narrative polished so smooth no one can see the cracks."
"And someone's ensuring it stays that way," Pakku added, "The Dai Li don't just enforce peace. They curate it."
"Peace built on silence," Rivka muttered, "And we're supposed to make deals in a city that denies the war ever happened?"
Ren finally spoke, voice low.
"Should we consider pulling back? If things go wrong, this could become a diplomatic disaster. Especially for you, Rivka. You're the soulmate of the Fire Lord. If we're trapped or discredited..."
Rivka stood still, eyes fixed on the far wall.
"This may be our last chance to make peace mean something. If we walk away now, we may never get back in."
Shingen nodded in agreement, "Then we use their own silence against them. We learn the unspoken rules, and when the time comes, we choose exactly which one to break."
Sira exhaled slowly, "Then we'd better run another check. One final plan."
They spoke long into the night. Pakku, Kuma, Malik, Sira, and Narook argued, debated, and ultimately aligned themselves with Rivka. Meanwhile, Shingen, Lin, Jin, and Ren supported a cautious but committed approach, cooperating with Ba Sing Se not out of trust, but out of necessity.
And under the quiet night sky, the delegation solidified not just a strategy, but a quiet vow. They would play the game, and when the time was right, they'd change the rules.
Chapter 31: The Art of Subtlety
Chapter Text
The conversation continued late into the night, voices rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The team gathered around the low table in the sitting room, the dim light of oil lamps casting long shadows on their faces. The stakes of their mission felt heavier than ever; each word weighed carefully against the risks of upsetting Ba Sing Se's fragile and artificial peace.
"We can't confront them directly," Pakku said, his voice steady but firm, "If we push too hard, they'll shut us out completely or worse, see us as a threat."
"But if we let them keep ignoring the war," Kuma countered, "then what's the point of any of this? The Earth Kingdom needs to wake up and realise what's happening outside their walls."
Rivka leaned back in his chair, letting the debate flow around him. He'd already made up his mind but wanted to see where the others landed first. Pakku's cautious pragmatism was well-founded, but Kuma wasn't wrong either. If they tiptoed too much, they risked achieving nothing.
Lin, ever blunt, folded her arms, "Fixing the Earth Kingdom isn't our job. We're here to establish a truce, not rebuild a nation from the ground up."
"And yet," Shingen added, his tone measured and calm, "if this city remains as fractured as it is, any truce we secure will crumble before it has the chance to hold. We need them strong enough to be partners, not just puppets."
There was a quiet beat after that, as the room absorbed his words.
"Which means we don't just focus on what they've ignored. We help them see what's possible. Ba Sing Se doesn't need to acknowledge the war to realise they need to prepare for the future," Rivka nodded.
"And how do you propose we do that?" Sira asked, leaning forward.
"With a lot of patience and a little subterfuge," Rivka replied, his lips twitching into a wry smile.
"We start with what we can control, our actions. Every move we make in court has to show them what cooperation looks like. If we want them to trust us, we need to embody the values we're asking them to adopt."
Kuma raised an eyebrow, "You think that's enough to make them change?"
"No," Rivka admitted, "But it's a start. The rest will come down to timing and finding the right leverage."
"And narrative," Shingen added, steepling his fingers, "We can't simply present facts and expect results. Ba Sing Se runs on stories and appearances. If we can shape the narrative, we can shift the tide without ever needing to say 'war.'"
The group murmured their agreement, and Rivka took that as his cue to stand. He moved to the corner of the room where a messenger hawk perched quietly, its golden eyes gleaming in the low light. Carefully, he tied a rolled parchment to its leg, a letter for Ozai. The Fire Lord would no doubt bristle at Rivka's polite but pointed words, but it was a necessary risk.
"Your Fire Lord will hate that," Narook observed, his tone more amused than concerned.
Rivka smirked, "Good. It'll keep him sharp."
The sentiment struck Rivka for a moment. This was the first time he'd written to Ozai personally since this mission began. Ren was in charge of the formal communications, so Rivka could breathe easier with one less job. The soulmark had been quiet, not absent but muffled. Curiously so, as Rivka didn't think distance mattered with soulmarks.
When Rivka returned to the table, the group had settled into a quieter discussion. Malik had unrolled a map of Ba Sing Se, pointing out key locations while Pakku spoke of potential allies within the Earth Kingdom.
"What about the nobles?" Jin asked, her voice thoughtful, "Some of them seemed indifferent at the banquet, but a few might be willing to listen if approached carefully."
"We'll need to tread lightly," Pakku said, "Even if we find allies, they'll be hesitant to act without the Dai Li's approval. That organisation has the city in a stranglehold."
"We could use that to our advantage," Ren suggested, "The Dai Li's influence is built on fear. If we can show them that the world outside these walls is changing, they might be forced to reconsider their grip on power."
Shingen leaned forward, tapping the edge of the map.
"Fear works both ways. If they see uncertainty in their ranks, they'll double down, but if we give them the impression that resisting change is riskier than accepting it subtly, quietly, we might shift the balance without ever making them feel threatened."
"It's a delicate balance," Rivka said, folding his arms, "Push too hard, and they'll see us as enemies. But if we don't push at all, nothing will change."
By the time they'd finalised their plan, the first hints of dawn were breaking over the horizon. The group dispersed to snatch a few hours of rest before the day began, though Rivka found himself lingering by the window, watching the light spill across the city's towering walls.
The estate bustled with quiet preparation as the group readied itself for their first formal meeting at the Ministry of Cultural Affairs in the Upper Ring. Rivka caught the glances exchanged between the Water Tribe and Fire Nation members as they donned their respective Earth Kingdom formalwear once more. The shared understanding, unspoken but palpable, was a small comfort amid uncertainty.
Their carriage wound through the carefully maintained streets of the Upper Ring, passing immaculate gardens and grandiose villas. The ministry building was no less impressive, its facade a testament to the wealth and power concentrated within Ba Sing Se's upper echelons.
Inside, they were met with the same air of polished detachment they'd encountered at the banquet. Their meeting room was grand but sparse, a subtle reminder of their status as guests, not equals.
The discussions were polite but stilted, with Earth Kingdom officials steering conversations toward cultural exchange and avoiding any mention of the war. Rivka and Pakku took the lead, deftly navigating the narrow lanes of acceptable topics while planting seeds of broader cooperation.
Between the formalities, Rivka focused on the subtleties: the way certain officials tensed at the mention of alliances, the brief flickers of unease when the Fire Nation delegation spoke. Though small, these cracks in the facade gave him hope that there was room to maneuver.
Shingen tracked the room in silence, observing body language and gauging expressions. At one point, he gently redirected a loaded question into a philosophical aside about cultural memory and legacy, offering the perfect cover for Rivka to reintroduce the idea of regional cooperation.
When the meeting concluded, the group returned to their estate with much to discuss. Over tea in the sitting room, they reviewed their impressions and adjusted their plans accordingly.
"It's slow progress," Sira said, her tone weary, "But it's progress."
"The Earth Kingdom prides itself on its endurance," Rivka replied, leaning back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips, "If we want to reach them, we'll need to match that patience and outlast their defences."
"Good thing we've brought people who know how to wait for the right moment," Shingen added softly, "And how to make sure it counts when it comes."
In the oppressive silence of Ba Sing Se's political heart, the team moved with caution and precision. None of them ventured out openly; they couldn't afford to. Even within the supposed safety of their estate, their movements were measured, their words guarded. Trusted ventures were rare and brief, made only to establish carefully chosen connections. Each step into the city was a calculated gamble, and they all knew the stakes.
Rivka remained the group's anchor, spending long hours in the estate's dimly lit study alongside Pakku and Shingen. Maps and letters lay spread across the table, their edges curling from repeated handling. The three traded quiet insights and made plans, each voice tempered with experience, each decision shaped by the unseen weight of Dai Li surveillance.
Shingen, ever composed, brought the philosophical edge that Rivka leaned on in quieter moments, always framing the political as deeply personal and always seeing the pattern beneath the moment.
The others contributed in subtler ways. Ren and Jin had a talent for slipping through social seams, embedding themselves among merchants and mid-tier nobles. They found quiet cracks in Ba Sing Se's rigid structure, places where trust could take root. Malik and Kuma moved like ghosts, their observations disguised as idle conversation, the harmless banter of attendants and errand runners. Even Shingen played his part: lingering at tea houses and quiet libraries, weaving in harmless philosophical chatter that often left his listeners speaking more than they realised.
Every piece of information was a thread, and together, they wove a web so intricate it barely stirred the air.
It was Ren's quiet persistence that earned them their first real ally.
Lady Anju, a sharp-eyed noblewoman with a mind attuned to the ebb and flow of power, extended a cautious invitation to a small, private gathering at her townhouse.
"She's intrigued by us," Ren told them one evening as they gathered in the sitting room. Her voice was low, but her eyes were alight with excitement, "She wants to know why we're really here, what we hope to accomplish."
"Curiosity is dangerous in Ba Sing Se," Pakku said flatly.
"Curiosity is useful," Rivka countered. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"If she's listening, we take the chance but tread carefully."
The night of the meeting was quiet, secretive. Rivka, Ren, and Jin left the estate dressed in modest Earth Kingdom garb, their faces dimmed by shadows and the anonymity of the Upper Ring's narrow alleys. Their destination: an elegant yet modest townhouse tucked behind manicured hedges, its entrance unassuming.
Lady Anju received them in a private sitting room. Her demeanour was poised, guarded, "I don't often host such unconventional guests," she said with a delicate tilt of her head.
"We appreciate your hospitality," Rivka replied, smooth as ever, "It's rare to find someone willing to see beyond Ba Sing Se's walls."
Anju studied him, her gaze sharp, "The walls aren't as impenetrable as they seem, but that doesn't mean they're easy to breach."
Their conversation walked a tightrope. Anju asked sharp questions, each probing deeper than the last. Rivka met them with a measured openness, revealing just enough to be interesting, never enough to be dangerous.
By the time they left, her curiosity had shifted into something more. Cautious interest, maybe. Quiet investment.
"I'll consider what you've said," she told them as she saw them out, "But be careful. The Dai Li are always watching."
Her interest proved a double-edged sword. In the days that followed, discreet messages arrived through Ren, hints, warnings, and sharp-eyed commentary on the court's shifting tides. Her advice was invaluable. But her involvement brought them closer to the Dai Li's notice.
The trap came a week later.
A letter arrived late in the evening, written in elegant script and sealed with Lady Anju's crest. It was unsigned, cryptic, but unmistakably hers. She requested a private meeting regarding an urgent matter.
Despite every alarm in his head, Rivka went alone.
He slipped from the estate under the cover of darkness, winding through the Upper Ring's silent corridors. The meeting point was a nondescript building near the Ministry of Cultural Affairs.
But it wasn't Anju who waited for him. Two Dai Li agents stood in the dim corridor.
"Rivka of the Fire Nation," one of them said, polite but firm, "We've been expecting you."
Rivka's mind went still. "Must be lost," he said easily, "I was looking for a friend."
Neither agent smiled. They gestured for him to follow.
The corridors twisted like a serpent. Cold, grey stone. No windows. No sense of time. Rivka let them lead him deeper, until he saw his moment.
He stumbled, catching himself against the wall. A moment's pause. Just enough.
He slipped sideways into an adjacent hallway.
They kept walking.
Rivka pressed forward, quiet and fast, through the maze of the ministry's underbelly. His heart pounded. He didn't know how much time he had. Eventually, he ducked into a quiet gallery lined with ancient tapestries and statues. The air was thick with dust and old incense.
That's where he found her.
"You're not supposed to be here," Anju hissed, stepping out from the shadows.
"Neither are you," Rivka said, his breath catching as he allowed himself the briefest smile.
She looked around sharply, her voice low, "The Dai Li set this up. They wanted to see how far you'd go."
"And now that they've seen?"
"They think you're clever," she said, "And more dangerous than they expected."
He held her gaze, "Are you still on our side?"
"For now," Her voice was tight, "But you need to go. Quickly."
He returned to the estate just before sunrise. The others were already waiting, Ren pale, Pakku pacing, Malik at the window.
"They're not just watching us," Rivka said after recounting the night, "They're testing us. Calculating."
"And Lady Anju?" Pakku asked.
"She's still with us," Rivka said, "But she's walking a very fine line."
The weight in the room was palpable.
Two weeks in, that line tilted toward something more dangerous.
A new letter arrived, this one far more elaborate. Lady Anju had secured an invitation for Rivka, Pakku, Ren, Shingen, and Malik to a royal banquet. The Earth King himself was rumoured to attend. The invitation sat on Rivka's desk like a challenge. The paper shimmered with gold edging, finer than anything he'd seen even in the Fire Nation. Regal calligraphy, pressed with Anju's crest.
She had pulled every string she had and likely some she didn't.
"She's risking everything," Shingen murmured, standing behind Rivka as he read it again.
"Yes," Rivka said quietly, "Now I have to make sure it's not for nothing."
He didn't say the other part aloud. That this was probably going to fail. That they were walking into a room designed to devour them, but that was the nature of politics in Ba Sing Se.
You play the game anyway.
Chapter 32: Bears and Banter
Chapter Text
The letter felt heavier in Rivka's hands than mere parchment ought to. Crafted from thick, opulent paper, it shimmered faintly in the low light of their sitting room, its gold-lined border catching every flicker of firelight. It reeked of ostentation, the sort Rivka typically associated with Fire Nation nobility but elevated to a grander, almost mocking degree of elegance.
"She went all out," Ren remarked, peering over Rivka's shoulder, "That paper alone probably costs more than my entire wardrobe."
Rivka arched a brow, "I should hope so. Your wardrobe wouldn't sway a village elder, let alone a royal court."
"Hey, my charm will," Ren countered with a grin.
"Right up until the Dai Li haul you off for offending someone," Malik said dryly from his post by the door.
Pakku cleared his throat, softly, but with just enough weight to cut through the banter.
"Focus," he said, the edge was gone from his tone, replaced by something closer to resolve, "This is a rare opportunity. Let's not waste it."
Rivka nodded, "Agreed. Dress the part, play the part, and try not to embarrass ourselves, or our nations."
By the time the evening arrived, the estate buzzed with movement. Pakku had insisted they present a united front that is coordinated, composed, and respectable. No easy task, given the Water Tribes' preference for function over formality.
"This feels wrong," Malik muttered, tugging at the stiff collar of his borrowed Earth Kingdom robes, "Like I skinned someone and put it on."
"Relax," Ren said, adjusting his attire's deep green and gold-trimmed fabric, "You look respectable for once. Try not to get used to it."
"Swamp toad," Malik muttered.
"Otter-penguin," Ren returned, without missing a beat.
Rivka, meanwhile, was waging a quiet war with his hair, which refused to cooperate no matter how sternly he combed it. Pakku stood nearby, already dressed and exuding the unshakable calm of a man born to sit in council chambers.
"You're overthinking it," Pakku said.
"Easy for you to say," Rivka muttered, his comb's teeth getting caught again, "You look like a respected elder. I look like I fell out of a canoe."
"You'll survive," Pakku replied, though the faint twitch of a smile betrayed his amusement.
Then Shingen entered. Dressed in deep emerald robes trimmed with silver, he was a portrait of serene dignity. The room collectively paused.
"Well," Ren said, after a beat, "You clean up nice."
Shingen inclined his head, the corner of his mouth curving upward, "I'll take that as a compliment. Even from you."
The palace loomed ahead, its towering spires and intricate archways bathed in golden light. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and polished wood. They passed through the gates in silence, the gravity of the night pressing down with every step.
Inside, the grandeur intensified. Endless corridors wound through opulence: marble inlays, lacquered pillars, murals gleaming with history. Servants moved with rehearsed grace. Laughter and low conversation drifted from deeper within.
"Stick together," Rivka murmured as they navigated a crowded hall, "This place is a maze. We don't want to get separated."
Nods followed. Even Ren looked serious, but a few corridors later, ever the hypocrite, with a nervous bladder, Rivka leaned toward Pakku, "I need to find a washroom. I'll catch up shortly."
Pakku frowned but nodded, "Don't linger."
He slipped away, following the directions of a passing servant. The deeper he wandered, the more the palace changed. The lavish ornamentation gave way to a quieter design, less meant for impress and more for function. Then he turned a corner and froze.
A bear stood in the middle of the hallway.
Not a platypus-bear. Not an armadillo-bear. Just... a bear.
It wore a finely embroidered green vest and a small round hat. Somehow, the creature managed to look dignified, out of place but dignified.
"Uh... hi," Rivka said cautiously, lifting his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture.
The bear sniffed the air and took a slow step forward.
"Okay, we're good," Rivka said, backing up, "I promise I'm just as lost as you are."
The bear huffed, disinterested, and began ambling down the hall. After a moment's hesitation, Rivka followed at a respectful distance.
"Do you know the way back?" he asked, half in jest.
Of course, the bear didn't answer, but its steady pace was strangely reassuring. They wandered together through the quiet corridors, one man and one inexplicably fashionable bear.
"Of all the things I expected to find in a palace," Rivka muttered, "A bear with better fashion sense than me wasn't on the list."
At last, the bear stopped in front of a large door, pawed it, and waited. A servant opened it moments later.
"Ah, Bosco," the man said, bowing, "The King was wondering where you'd gone."
The bear Bosco, apparently, ambled inside. Rivka stood in the hallway, blinking.
"...That's the King's bear?"
The servant glanced at him, "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"
"Not even a little."
Just as he turned to retreat, Rivka felt a large presence at his back. Bosco had returned.
"Hey, buddy," he said warily, "I don't have snacks, if that's what you're hoping for."
Bosco ignored him. With surprising speed, the bear closed the distance and nudged Rivka's chest, directly over his soulmark.
Rivka went rigid, "Okay. Alright. Not food. Got it."
The bear sniffed once and twice and then, without preamble, reared up and pinned Rivka flat on the polished floor.
"Okay, this is happening," Rivka muttered, voice slightly higher than usual.
Bosco's nose hovered above the soulmark hidden beneath Rivka's robes. He sniffed again, deeply, then let out a satisfied huff and shifted his weight, settling atop Rivka with the full confidence of a creature who had claimed his favourite rug, his muzel settling over the soulmark as he got comfortable.
Pinned and breathless, Rivka reached up to pat the bear's side. Soft fur. He tried not to think about how many ribs might be under pressure.
"Good bear. Nice bear."
Bosco gave a pleased rumble.
The servant was horrified, "Bosco, no! You'll ruin his robes!"
"The robes are not the problem," Rivka glared at him from under the bear.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. A moment later, a young man appeared, regal, wide-eyed, and unmistakably important. His hair was tied back, covered by a type of official-looking hat, and his robe bore the gold insignia of Earth Kingdom royalty.
Rivka sighed and stared up at the ceiling.
"Of course," he muttered, "Now it's a party."
"Bosco!" The man's voice rang out, equal parts relief and exasperation, "There you are!"
The bear's ears twitched, but instead of moving, he gave a low grunt and nestled his massive head more firmly against Rivka's chest.
The man halted mid-step, blinking, "Why is Bosco lying on... you?"
Still pinned flat beneath five hundred pounds of bear, Rivka managed a strained smile.
"Excellent question. Maybe ask him when he decides to get off?"
The man blinked again and clapped his hands, "Bosco, come here. You're being rude."
Bosco hesitated, glancing between them. Rivka gave him a gentle nudge.
"You heard him, buddy. Time to relocate."
With an exaggerated sigh, the bear heaved himself up and lumbered toward the man. Rivka sat up slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his robes, dignity in tatters.
The man offered a hand, "My apologies. He can be... enthusiastic."
Rivka took the hand, hauling himself upright, "No harm done. I guess I smell like someone he trusts."
The man chuckled, eyes crinkling warmly.
"You must be one of Lady Anju's guests. Welcome to the palace! I'm Kuei."
Rivka's stomach dropped, "Kuei... as in-"
"The Earth King," Kuei said cheerfully.
Rivka fought the urge to groan aloud. Of all the people to be crushed under a bear in front of, it had to be the Earth King.
"Bosco has a good sense for people," Kuei went on, patting the bear's side, "If he likes you, that means you're trustworthy."
"Good to know," Rivka said, dryly, "He has a very... hands-on method of judgment."
"He doesn't usually take to strangers. You must've made quite an impression," Kuei laughed.
"Guess I'm just lucky," Rivka eyed the bear, whose tiny hat now sat askew.
"Lady Anju mentioned you're here as part of the delegation from the Water Tribe and the Fire Nation?" Kuei's gaze lingered a little longer.
"That's right," Rivka said carefully, "We're here to build bridges, diplomatically."
Kuei nodded, his tone shifting into something slightly more formal.
"Perhaps we should speak a bit before returning to the banquet. It's rare for Bosco to approve someone so quickly."
"It would be an honour, Your Majesty," Rivka replied, his voice calm, even as his mind kicked into high alert.
As they began walking, Rivka caught the faint presence trailing them, silent, measured, unmistakable, the Dai Li. He didn't need to look back to feel the weight of their gaze. Kuei, however, seemed entirely at ease, gesturing broadly as he spoke. Bosco padded quietly beside him, brushing his nose occasionally against his master's sleeve.
"It's a shame Lady Anju didn't introduce you all sooner," Kuei said lightly, "She has such a good eye for people, and I imagine your group has all sorts of fascinating knowledge. Are you enjoying the palace so far?"
"It's certainly impressive," Rivka said, keeping his tone neutral, "The architecture speaks to deep traditions."
"Oh yes, it's a symbol of peace and prosperity," Kuei said proudly, "Ba Sing Se has enjoyed stability for generations."
Rivka's brow creased. The words sounded natural, but there was something too polished about them. As if they'd been recited, not lived.
"You must be proud to rule such a city," Rivka offered.
"Oh, I wouldn't say 'rule.' I oversee things, but the Grand Council and the Dai Li manage most of the day-to-day," Kuei laughed.
Rivka's chest tightened at the mention. He flicked a glance toward the hallway shadows. Still there. Watching.
"And the rest of the Earth Kingdom?" Rivka asked, voice carefully measured, "Do you hear much from the outer provinces?"
"The provinces? Oh, I'm sure they're doing splendidly. The Council would let me know if there were any issues," Kuei tilted his head thoughtfully.
A slow dread unfurled in Rivka's gut. Not denial. Not evasion. He truly didn't know. Kuei paused at a tall window overlooking a manicured garden. Bosco leaned contentedly against his side. The bear's quiet presence was oddly grounding.
"Your Majesty," Rivka said gently, "if I may ask... how do you feel about alliances between nations? Between the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, for example?"
Kuei beamed, "I've always believed in harmony. Bosco would agree, wouldn't you?" He scratched behind the bear's ear.
"The world works best when we understand each other."
Rivka gave a faint smile, "Understanding can be... complicated."
"True, true," Kuei nodded solemnly, clearly taking him at face value, "But I'm glad to meet someone like you. You seem kind, and Bosco knows good hearts."
Rivka hesitated. Then, quietly spoke, "I appreciate that, Your Majesty. Especially given... my position."
Kuei blinked, curious, "Your position?"
Rivka glanced down at Bosco, who gazed back with that same unsettling awareness. Then he exhaled.
"I'm a Waterbender, and the Fire Lord's soulmate."
Silence. Then Kuei's face lit up.
"That's wonderful!"
Rivka blinked. That was not the reaction he'd expected.
"Lady Anju must've known," Kuei went on, delighted, "How fascinating! No wonder Bosco took to you so quickly. He always senses remarkable people."
"I wasn't sure how it would be received," Rivka said carefully.
"Nonsense! It's a beautiful connection. We must speak more at the banquet, everyone will want to meet you."
Rivka nodded politely, thoughts spinning. Kuei's warmth was genuine, but the man was entirely blind to the implications, and the Dai Li was undoubtedly listening. As Kuei chatted cheerfully about soulmarks and destiny, Rivka's gaze shifted again to the distant shadows.
A single, chilling thought settled in his mind:
The Earth King doesn't know.
But I do.
Now, I have to decide what to do with that knowledge.
Chapter 33: The Heart of Ba Sing Se
Notes:
A little late, but here's the update! Unrelated to the story - learning how to teach is hard, and I'm posting this in a class :)
14.07.25
Chapter Text
The conversation lingered as Kuei gazed out at the gardens, while Bosco lounged beside him in lazy contentment. Rivka studied the Earth King carefully, his mind churning with questions he couldn't yet risk voicing. He allowed Kuei to lead, subtly guiding the discussion toward safer shores. Kuei smiled warmly, oblivious to the tension Rivka carried beneath his calm exterior.
"You speak so thoughtfully about your experiences, Master Rivka. How did you reconcile the differences between your homeland in the Water Tribe and the Fire Nation you now represent? Surely, such tensions must have tested your spirit."
Rivka inhaled slowly, his fingers curling around his teacup, grounding himself in the familiar warmth.
"It wasn't easy," he admitted, "The Water Tribe values unity above all else, while the Fire Nation often sees strength in individuality and ambition. At first, it felt impossible to bridge the gap. But over time, I realised both perspectives are incomplete."
He paused, carefully choosing his words, "The Water Tribe taught me to protect the collective good, to ensure no one is left behind. The Fire Nation pushed me to consider what we might accomplish by challenging tradition. Balancing those lessons required patience and more than a few mistakes."
"That balance sounds admirable, though difficult. Perhaps that is what Ba Sing Se needs, a harmony between its traditions and the realities of the outside world," Kuei nodded, thoughtful.
Rivka suppressed the flicker of hope in his chest, sensing an opportunity.
"Your Majesty, do you feel Ba Sing Se is ready to embrace such harmony?" He asked, keeping his tone neutral.
"Surely there are strengths in the Earth Kingdom's traditions that could guide the world toward a brighter future."
Kuei turned his gaze toward the ornate window, his voice softer now, "I would like to think so," he said, "But tradition is a heavy thing, isn't it? It grounds us, yet it can also bind us. Sometimes I wonder if my people are so tethered to the past that they cannot see the possibilities of the future."
Rivka's chest tightened, "And what of Your Majesty's vision? What future do you see for Ba Sing Se?"
Kuei's expression softened with a faint wistfulness, "I want Ba Sing Se to be a city where no one has to worry about tomorrow. A place where peace reigns eternal, and everyone finds their place. But peace must be cultivated with care. Too much change too quickly, and we risk tearing apart the very foundation of our kingdom."
The words settled heavily in Rivka's mind, confirming what he had begun to suspect. Kuei's dream was sincere, but steeped in innocence. The Earth King didn't just avoid talking about the war. He didn't know it existed.
Rivka kept his expression neutral, though his thoughts raced. If the Earth King's ignorance was this complete, then the true power in Ba Sing Se lay elsewhere, likely in the hands of the Dai Li, who upheld the illusion of peace at any cost. The realisation sent a chill through him, but he pushed it aside. Kuei's trust was valuable, and he couldn't afford to lose it.
"Your Majesty," Rivka said carefully, "Your dream of peace is admirable. It reminds me of the harmony I've tried to build between my loyalties. Perhaps Ba Sing Se can do the same, not by abandoning tradition but by weaving it into something new."
"You speak with such clarity, Master Rivka. I can see why Lady Anju holds you in such high regard. Perhaps you might share more of these thoughts at the banquet. I believe your perspective would enlighten others," Kuei's smile returned, brighter now.
"It would be an honour," Rivka replied with a respectful incline of his head, "Though if I may, Your Majesty, what are your thoughts on strengthening relations with other nations? Surely cooperation could benefit us all."
Kuei hesitated, "I would like to foster greater ties," he said slowly, "But the world beyond Ba Sing Se often feels... distant. The city has always been self-sufficient, and many of my advisors warn that too much outside influence could disrupt our harmony."
Rivka nodded, masking his frustration behind a calm expression, "A cautious approach is wise," he said.
"But even the strongest walls require reinforcement. Perhaps opening a dialogue with other nations could reveal opportunities to strengthen what already exists."
"You make a compelling point. I will think on it, Master Rivka," Kuei considered that, his brow furrowed.
Their conversation continued on lighter topics as Rivka gently probed for more insight into the king's worldview. Formality dictated that they should enter the banquet separately, or at least at different times, to avoid the implication that they'd been alone together.
Alas, Bosco had other plans.
Though not on a leash, the bear had latched his teeth onto the hem of Rivka's shirt and refused to let go. Kuei only laughed and let it happen. When the grand doors of the banquet hall swung open, Rivka entered with composed strides, the very image of calm... aside from the massive bear pressed against his side. The sight might have been endearing if not for the sheer horror etched onto the faces of Rivka's team.
Their expressions spoke volumes: Why did you let the bear adopt you?
Rivka's exasperation was palpable. He was not pleased with the development.
At the head of the hall, Kuei beamed and immediately launched into animated chatter with anyone who would listen, spinning tales of the budding affair between Bosco and Ba Sing Se's newest Waterbender guest. Meanwhile, Bosco grunted in satisfaction and flopped beside Rivka, pinning him in place with his considerable bulk.
There was no escape.
"A great honour, truly," Rivka said dryly, resting a hand atop Bosco's thick fur like he had any control over the creature.
His eyes drifted toward the banquet table and narrowed. Bosco was feasting, not merely nibbling but demolishing a significant portion of the carefully prepared spread with shameless enthusiasm. Servants lingered nearby, frozen between duty and fear, unsure whether to intervene.
Nobles and court officials sat stiff-backed, their expressions carefully composed, though a few looked faintly scandalised.
The absurdity of it all sent a ripple of unease through Rivka. The Earth King's power was unquestioned, yet it carried an air of detachment. Respected, certainly, but in the way one might humour an eccentric relative rather than heed a ruler's command.
As Rivka's companions tried to find seats near him, Shingen included, they struggled to navigate the clusters of Earth Kingdom nobles who treated the banquet like a territorial map. Eventually, they gave up the effort and settled into quiet conversation among themselves. Something was happening. Rivka clicked onto the sudden shift in the air, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in warning. Chewing on a thick slab of meat, Bosco tossed him a look over his shoulder, jowls dripping, eyes unbothered. An accurate representation of the last thirty or so minutes, Rivka silently agreed.
A shadow passed over him.
His seat neighbours went stock still, eyes fixed on someone behind him. Rivka mentally braced himself. How could this be any harder than talking to the Fire Lord? He turned to look.
Long Feng. Someone they'd only heard whispers about thus far.
The Grand Secretariat's presence sent a chill down Rivka's spine. From the corner of his eye, he saw his team tense. Shingen's fingers brushed against the table, a subtle reminder that he was watching, listening, ready. They were a unit now, attuned to each other's reactions like soldiers before a skirmish.
Kuei, oblivious as ever, greeted Long Feng with boyish warmth. There was too much familiarity in how he said the man's name, a casual joy that didn't match the tightness gripping the table.
"Master Rivka," Kuei beamed, "This is Grand Secretariat Long Feng. He oversees many of the city's daily matters and has been a great advisor."
Rivka wished the floor would open up and ship him back home, either one. The moment stretched, thick with unspoken tension, as Long Feng took his place at the Earth King's side. His hands folded neatly into his sleeves, his expression neutral, but the weight of his presence was inescapable. Rivka forced himself to remain still, his gaze impassive, though every instinct warned him to be wary.
"Grand Secretariat," Kuei greeted, cheerful as ever, "You arrived just in time. Master Rivka and I were having the most fascinating discussion on the balance of tradition and progress."
Long Feng's eyes flicked to Rivka. Though his face betrayed nothing, his scrutiny was sharp enough to sting.
"Indeed? A most thought-provoking topic, Your Majesty," His voice was polished to perfection, "Though I would argue that stability must come before change. Without a firm foundation, progress is nothing more than an illusion."
Rivka inclined his head, feigning agreement, "An insightful perspective, Grand Secretariat. A foundation must be strong, but it must also be adaptable. Rigid structures crack under pressure, while those that can bend will endure."
Kuei nodded eagerly, "Exactly! That is what I was thinking as well. Tell me, Grand Secretariat, what do you believe Ba Sing Se's future should be?"
Long Feng smiled patiently, "Your Majesty, Ba Sing Se has remained an unshakable beacon of peace for centuries, untouched by the chaos beyond its walls. Our greatest duty is to preserve that peace, to ensure our people never need to concern themselves with the troubles of the outside world."
Rivka barely kept his expression neutral. The wording was precise and careful. Never need to concern themselves. You never need to suffer or fear. The Dai Li's grip was threaded through every syllable.
"And yet," Rivka said slowly, "The world does not remain static. Even the mightiest of walls cannot shield against every storm. Would it not be wise to prepare for the possibility that change may come, whether we will it or not?"
Long Feng's smile didn't falter, but there was unmistakable steel behind it.
"Master Rivka, the strength of Ba Sing Se lies in its constancy. We do not chase the fleeting winds of change; we stand firm while others falter."
Kuei, blind to the friction, clapped his hands, "Ah, such wisdom from both of you! This is precisely why discussions like these are so important."
Rivka sipped his tea, hiding a sigh behind the porcelain. He had planted a seed, but Long Feng's presence confirmed that any further probing would be met with silent, suffocating resistance. The man was too experienced, too deeply rooted in the mechanisms of control. If Rivka wanted to open Kuei's eyes, he would need patience and distance from the Grand Secretariat's notice.
Rivka remained outwardly attentive as the conversation drifted to lighter fare, though his mind moved elsewhere. This banquet was only the beginning. He would need to play the long game if he wanted to navigate Ba Sing Se's court.
And time, he suspected, was not on his side.
As nobles began to disperse, the moment Rivka had expected arrived. He had barely set his cup down when a voice spoke at his side, too smooth to be friendly.
"Master Rivka. A word?"
Long Feng's tone was polite, but the command beneath it was cold and inescapable. Rivka cast a glance at his companions. Shingen's posture had stiffened slightly, but Rivka offered him a subtle nod, signalling it was okay.
He followed Long Feng out of the banquet hall, through a side corridor dimly lit by flickering lanterns. The further they walked, the quieter it became. Finally, Long Feng stopped and turned with practised grace, his hands still tucked into his sleeves.
"You are far from home, Master Rivka."
The words were gentle, but their weight crushed down like stone. Rivka kept his face neutral, "I've travelled far before."
Long Feng tilted his head, "Then allow me to offer some advice. Ba Sing Se is not the place for... foreign meddling. You would do well to enjoy the Earth King's hospitality and leave politics to those who understand the delicate balance of this city."
Rivka's jaw tightened, "Is that so? Then I must ask, why invite a diplomatic party at all?"
Long Feng's smile turned faintly indulgent.
"Appearances, Master Rivka. They matter in a city like this. But make no mistake, Ba Sing Se does not change. And those who try to force it often find themselves swallowed whole."
There it was. The threat beneath the silks.
Rivka exhaled slowly, "I appreciate your concern, Grand Secretariat. But I've never been particularly good at standing still."
Long Feng studied him a beat too long, then gave a slight nod.
"Then I suggest you be very careful, Master Rivka. When trapped, you may find that even water has nowhere to go but down."
With that, he turned and strode away, his shadow trailing behind him like smoke.
Rivka stood alone in the lantern-lit silence, a slow breath slipping past his lips. The game had begun in earnest.
And he had just been given his first, and final, warning.
Chapter 34: A Game Unfolding
Notes:
I updated on time!! Mainly because I need to have 7 weeks' worth of updates in backlog for when I end up murdered by University :)
18.07.25
Chapter Text
By the time Rivka and his team returned to their assigned quarters, night had fallen hard over Ba Sing Se. The city murmured faintly beneath the glow of lanterns, their light smearing across slick stone like brushstrokes on a fading canvas. In the distance, the clatter of closing market stalls and muffled voices trailed off into silence. Shadows stretched long through the alleys, heavy with secrets.
Rivka's shoulders were tight with the memory of Long Feng's calculated smile. He had expected the city's politics to be layered, but not suffocating. Tonight had shown him just how deep the rot went.
Behind him, the others moved with a quiet tension, the kind that clung to skin after a close call. Lien's mouth was pressed into a thin line. Shingen's eyes swept the corridor with detached sharpness, a man always one breath away from challenging someone these days. Already waiting inside, Kuma leaned against the wall, his arms folded, posture stiff with impatience.
He didn't let Rivka take more than a step over the threshold before speaking.
"You're going to want to sit down for this," Kuma said, voice low and dry.
Rivka arched a brow, too tired for riddles, "We've had enough surprises for one night, Kuma."
"This one's special," Kuma muttered, "Team Avatar is here."
The words didn't land so much as they punched. Rivka blinked once, twice, then the breath left him in a slow hiss.
"Say that again."
"You heard me," Kuma said, gesturing toward the window, "The Avatar, Water Tribe siblings, and there's a new one, a blind Earthbender. I saw them in the Middle Ring this afternoon. Just walking around like they own the place."
Rivka pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself not to react, but his pulse quickened anyway. Aang made it through Azula's interference. This meant the Fire Nation either failed to stop or let him through. Either way, it shifted the balance again and if he knew, then so did the Fire Nation.
"Did you see them speaking to anyone?" Rivka asked, voice clipped, "Dai Li? City officials?"
Kuma shook his head, "Didn't see tails. Doesn't mean they don't have any."
Rivka laughed brittle, mirthless, "Of course they're here. Of course, I found out like this."
Shingen, who had remained silent near the door, finally stepped forward, "If they're walking the city freely, someone allowed it. Or someone is watching them to see what they do next. Either way... It's a trap waiting to be sprung."
That pulled Rivka's focus. Shingen's voice always did; it was rare he spoke at all unless it mattered. Calm. Tactical. Surprisingly so these days for a scholar. A grounding counterweight to Rivka's increasingly frayed patience.
Lien's voice broke through next, quiet but firm, "What's our move?"
Rivka's jaw clenched. The Grand Council had already warned him: stay out of Earth Kingdom politics, but this wasn't just politics. This was the war itself walking through the city in the form of a twelve-year-old Airbender and a Fire Nation plot no one seemed willing to name.
"They didn't tell me," he muttered under his breath, "He didn't tell me."
He meant Ozai, and everyone in the room knew it.
Rivka turned away from them, pacing. The soulmark burned faintly beneath his robes, with no flare of emotion this time and no tether pulling taut. Just silence. Which somehow made it worse. Ozai knew. He had moved without telling Rivka. Again.
His stomach twisted. They were going to use those kids. Bait. Leverage. A distraction while Azula moves in from the shadows, and he'd been here, playing diplomat, blind to all of it.
Without thinking, he strode toward the courtyard, his team parting to let him through. They knew the look in his eyes; he needed to move, to release the storm building inside him.
The night air met him cool and sharp. He stepped onto the training grounds without hesitation, rolling his shoulders as he sank into a Waterbending stance. Water answered his call immediately, leaping from the ornamental basin with a hiss of motion. He shaped it with crisp, tight forms, bending not for grace but control, forcing the fury into discipline.
But it wasn't enough.
He lifted his arms, calling on the sky. Moisture coalesced, and dark clouds rolled in above with ominous speed. A cool drizzle began, shifting to a steady downpour. Rain pelted the courtyard, soaking through his robes and chilling the heat blazing in his chest. He didn't even feel a strain from the fact that he was manipulating an overhead rainfront.
Still not enough.
His soulmark throbbed, faint but present. You knew. You always know. He let the rain wash over him, chest heaving. Why didn't you say anything?
Behind him, he sensed a quiet presence, Shingen, staying back but watchful. Rivka didn't turn.
"They're going to use Aang. Probably already have. We need to find them before the Dai Li, or Azula, do."
"We'll find them. But if Azula's here, she won't strike without a stage," Shingen gave a low hum of agreement.
"And Ba Sing Se," Rivka muttered, "Has plenty of those."
The rain continued, steady and quiet. Rivka exhaled one last breath, centring himself. Then, with a sharp pivot, he melted into the storm, slipping into the night.
The streets of the Upper Ring shimmered with mist, the drizzle blurring lanternlight into halos. Rivka moved through the shadows with practised ease, his heavy but comforting robes grounding him in the water that had always answered his call. His senses extended outward, rain slipping into gutters, the distant rhythm of footsteps, the muted heartbeat of a city about to unravel.
No Dai Li. Yet.
He was out of time, but he wasn't out of moves.
Reaching the quiet estate where Team Avatar was staying, Rivka flicked his fingers, sending a bead of water to tap insistently on the window. A few moments later, the curtains shifted, and Sokka's confused face appeared before the window slid open.
"Wait, Rivka?" Sokka blinked, "Weren't you off being a very diplomatic pain in the neck somewhere?"
"Turns out being polite is exhausting. Thought I'd check in on the only people more stressed out than I am," Rivka smirked.
"You're actually alive. Katara said you probably got thrown in a volcano for mouthing off to the Fire Lord," Sokka gave a short laugh, still surprised.
"Not yet," Rivka said dryly, "Close call, though."
"Are you going to let him in, or just keep asking questions?" Toph's voice called from behind Sokka, "I'm getting a read on him, and he seems tense but not stabby."
Rivka arched a brow, "Glad to hear my aura isn't murderous."
"Don't push it." Sokka stepped aside, letting him climb in. The room was modest but cluttered with maps, scrolls, and the lingering tension of too many sleepless nights. Aang and Katara were seated near the table, weary-eyed but alert. Toph lounged near the door, flipping a rock from hand to hand with idle precision.
Katara straightened as she saw him, "Rivka. We thought you were long gone."
"Last we saw you, you were dragging Zhao away in chains," Aang stood up, eyebrows furrowed.
"And now you're just... here?" Sokka added.
"I heard you were in the city," Rivka shrugged, "Didn't feel right ignoring you, especially after last time, given I was here already."
"Yeah, well, we're not exactly having a great visit," Katara muttered, arms crossed, "The Earth King refuses to see us, Appa's still missing, and the Dai Li are watching our every move."
Toph snorted, "Rich people are weird too."
"I noticed," Rivka said, giving her an approving look, "I like you."
Toph smirked, "Thanks. Still not sure if I like you."
"Fair," he said easily, "What's this about Appa missing?"
The team filled him in that the bison's been missing for a while now, but he'd yet to hear a peep about such a thing.
"So what, you're playing diplomat now?" Sokka asked, "Between tea parties with Ozai and sweet-talking the Earth Kingdom's bureaucracy?"
"I had my fill of empty pleasantries. Thought I'd check in on the real troublemakers," Rivka smirked.
"Yeah, yeah, don't push your luck."
Sokka gestured for him to sit. The room was modest but comfortable. Aang and Katara sat cross-legged by a small table littered with maps and notes. Toph sprawled near the door, absently tossing a small rock in the air and catching it without looking.
"So, you all look suspiciously like people planning something," Rivka gave the group a once-over.
"It was more like trying to figure out what to do next," Katara admitted. We weren't expecting to see you again."
"Yeah, figured you'd be too busy rubbing elbows with some nobility," Sokka added, "How's that going, by the way?"
"I'd hardly call it sweet-talking," Rivka said, rubbing his temples, "More like dodging knives with a smile. The Earth King lives in a fantasy. Long Feng has him on a leash and is feeding him stories where this war doesn't exist."
Toph's rock hit the ground with a dull thud, "Seriously?"
"Dead serious. He believes Ba Sing Se is untouched. No Fire Nation. No war. Just parades and zoo appointments."
"That's not ignorance. That's control," Aang's expression darkened.
Katara looked furious, "And Appa? Do you think they know anything?"
"They'd know something," Rivka said softly, "But they're not talking. They don't want any of us here right now."
Katara looked frustrated, going back to the Earth King, "How could they keep that from him? Didn't he ever wonder why refugees were coming into the city?"
"Long Feng feeds him a carefully crafted version of reality. Anything that doesn't fit, he never sees. The Dai Li make sure of that," Rivka sighed.
Sokka ran a hand down his face, "Okay, well, that explains a lot, but where do you fit into all this? You're the Fire Lord's soulmate, but you're playing diplomat?"
"That's about the size of it," Rivka said, rubbing his temples.
"I figured if I could do something useful while I'm bound to all this madness, I'd try to keep the world from falling apart entirely."
Toph snorted, "So, let me get this straight. You've managed to survive the Fire Nation's royal court, the Northern Water Tribe's elders, and now Ba Sing Se's fancy, brainwashed aristocrats?"
Rivka smirked, "I'm adaptable."
"I'm impressed," she admitted, "Most people barely make it through one of those without getting executed."
"I do like keeping my head attached," Rivka agreed. Then he looked at Aang.
"So. What's your plan?"
Aang hesitated before answering, "We have to get the Earth King to see the truth. If he realises what's going on, he can take control back from the Dai Li."
"Bold, but even if he believes you, what then? The Fire Nation isn't going to pack up and go home just because Ba Sing Se finally wakes up," Rivka hummed thoughtfully.
Aang frowned, "We'll find a way to stop the war."
"That's a lot to put on a twelve-year-old," Rivka muttered, rubbing his face, "And a group of teenagers," he exhaled heavily.
"Look, I don't know what's worse, Ozai pretending he's not conflicted about this war or Azula refusing to acknowledge anything but absolute Fire Nation rule."
"Ozai is conflicted?" Katara frowned.
Rivka gave her a tired look, "You don't see it because you haven't seen the Fire Nation. He doesn't let it show. Not fully, but he's been hesitating in ways he never used to. His plans shift. His orders are more erratic. He's starting to ask questions about what his victories are actually gaining him."
Sokka crossed his arms, "So, what? He has a conscience now?"
"Not exactly," Rivka admitted, "But something is off, and Azula? She's still all fire and supremacy, no hesitation. That's why she's dangerous."
Toph cracked her knuckles, "So what's your next move?"
Rivka hesitated. The rational thing would be to stay put, keep his head down, and see how things played out, but rationality had never been his strong suit, and if he was being honest with himself, he was sick of feeling like he was two steps behind.
"I need to find Azula," he finally said.
Aang blinked, "Why?"
"Because she's the wild card," Rivka rolled his shoulders, "If she's here, she has a plan, and if she has a plan, I need to know what it is before it's too late."
"You can't just walk up to her," Katara frowned.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Rivka said dryly, "I prefer a bit more... finesse."
"Fancy word for sneaking around," Toph grinned.
Rivka smirked, "Exactly."
Sokka let out a sigh, "I don't like it. Feels like you're about to walk into a trap."
"That's the fun part," Rivka quipped, adjusting his cloak.
He glanced at Aang, "You focus on the Earth King. If he listens, great. If not, be ready to run."
Aang nodded, though his face was clouded with concern, "Be careful, Rivka."
"No promises," Rivka said with a smirk before slipping back toward the window, "Try not to get arrested while I'm gone."
Toph grinned, "Try not to die before I get to see how tough you are."
Rivka chuckled, "Deal."
As the others settled back into frustrated strategising, Aang followed Rivka to the window, pausing just before he climbed out.
"Hey, wait a second."
Rivka turned, half in the shadows, "What is it?"
Aang glanced back at the others, then stepped closer, voice low.
"You really believe we can still turn this around? Can we fix this?"
Rivka was quiet for a moment. The torchlight from the hallway cast a soft gold line across his face.
"I believe it's possible," he said, "Even if it doesn't feel like it right now."
Aang searched his expression, "You didn't sound very sure in there."
"That's because I'm not," Rivka admitted, "I've seen too many plans fall apart. Too many people who wanted peace end up bleeding out for it."
Aang's shoulders dropped slightly, but he didn't look away.
"Then why keep trying?"
Rivka's gaze softened, and for the first time, he looked less like a soldier and more like someone barely keeping his heart from fracturing.
"Because not trying would mean accepting the world the way it is, and I can't live with that. I don't think you can either."
Aang nodded slowly, the weight of his title pulling at him, "No. I can't."
Rivka gave him a small, tired smile.
"Good. You're the Avatar. You don't get to quit, but you do get to feel tired. Just don't mistake that for failure."
Aang hesitated, then reached out and briefly touched Rivka's wrist, an old gesture, steadying and sincere.
"We'll get Appa back, and we'll stop Azula. Together."
Rivka's throat bobbed slightly, "I'm counting on it."
And just like that, he slipped into the shadows, the sound of rain tapping lightly against the stone as the night swallowed him up.
Aang stayed by the sill for a moment longer, breathing quietly, then turned back to the room, standing a little straighter.
Chapter 35: Beneath the Surface
Notes:
Assignments are kicking le booty again, but we survive!! Another chapter, hope ya'll enjoy!! (￣^￣ )ゞ
27.07.25
Chapter Text
Rivka moved through the rain-slicked streets of the Upper Ring, the weight of his conversation with Team Avatar settling uneasily in his chest. He'd thought it would help, talking with them, remembering he wasn't the only one trying to keep the world from tearing itself apart, but instead, the pressure mounted. The Earth Kingdom teetered on the edge of chaos; now, he had one more problem to handle before crashing down.
Azula.
He sighed, dragging a hand through his damp hair. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation, but if there was one thing he'd learned about Fire Nation royals, it was better to confront them before they came looking for you.
That plan, however, would have to wait. A presence prickled at the edge of his senses. Footsteps, too precise. Too measured.
The Dai Li.
He didn't need to look back. That suffocating weight in the air, the stillness that came before stone closed in, told him everything. They were good. Too good. But Rivka had grown up learning how to move through silence. If the Dai Li were after him, only one man in Ba Sing Se would dare send them.
Rivka exhaled slowly. Alright then. Show me your hand, Long Feng.
He angled down a quieter street, one less watched. He didn't stop walking. Didn't give them the satisfaction of knowing he'd noticed. This was still his game. He chose the next turn carefully, rain dripping from rooftops into shallow puddles. A good place to stand. A better place to fight. But he wasn't here to fight. Not really.
He heard the lamp flicker before he saw the figure ahead. Long Feng.
The Grand Secretariat stood perfectly composed, hands tucked into his sleeves. Behind him, shadows peeled from alley walls, Dai Li agents, silent and sharp. The street around them seemed to pulse, alive with hidden stone.
"Well," Rivka said, tilting his head, "Fancy running into you here."
Long Feng smiled faintly, "Master Rivka. You've made yourself quite comfortable in our city."
"I was hoping we could keep things civil," Rivka gestured at the half-circle of agents, "Though this feels a little excessive."
"On the contrary," Long Feng said smoothly, "You've proven yourself unwilling to act in Ba Sing Se's best interests."
"Interesting," Rivka said, folding his arms, "Because I was under the impression you don't act in Ba Sing Se's best interests."
Long Feng's smile didn't flicker, "Perspective, but I do not need to argue philosophy with you. We both know what's at stake."
Rivka let his gaze drift across the rooftops, down to the stones beneath his feet.
"You know, after hearing stories about the Dai Li. I expected a little more... finesse."
Two agents stepped forward at once. Rivka moved.
He bent low, sliding his foot across the slick pavement to draw up a coil of rainwater. As the agents launched forward, Rivka was already striking, ribbons of water lashing into their midlines, a sharp whip of motion disrupting their formation. He turned, kicked, and sent a jagged crescent of water spinning toward the next.
He let himself smirk. Not because it was over, but because he had let it begin.
Then the wall moved. With a flick of the man's wrist, the city stones shifted. The pavement, beneath Rivka, buckled, stone arms clawing upward. He twisted away from the first and the second, but the third caught his ankle and yanked hard.
The earth slammed up around his wrists. Rivka gave just enough resistance to make it look real, then let himself sag, exhaling loudly.
Long Feng approached, gaze cold, "A skilled performance, but you were never going to escape."
Rivka snorted, "Wasn't trying to. If I didn't want to be caught, Long Feng, we wouldn't be speaking right now."
Long Feng only raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.
Rivka's voice dropped, "I'm here because I need to be. You just think you won."
Stone cinched tighter around his arms. No room to move. No chance of pulling moisture.
Long Feng turned, "You'll come with us. One way or another."
"Just remember," Rivka called after him, "You're the one who made this a war. I was hoping for a conversation."
He didn't struggle as they led him away. It wouldn't help. Not right now. Besides, he wasn't alone.
He didn't know where his diplomacy team was, if they'd made it out or stayed behind, but he trusted them. They had instructions. Contingencies. Azula had her own pieces on the board and was too smart to be idle while Rivka disappeared, even if they had conflicting interests right now.
He didn't need to escape. He needed to watch. He needed Long Feng to believe he was exactly where he wanted him.
The Dai Li led him through the city's underbelly, down into a maze of tunnels that felt too old and hungry. The scent of wet stone filled the air, but Rivka wasn't listening to his senses. He was listening to the pull, the faint hum of water overhead. A lake. Big enough to be useful. Still out of reach, but not lost to him.
Eventually, they arrived.
Lake Laogai.
They named it with sneers on their lips: a warning, a trophy. The chamber was lit with green lanterns, which gave the stone an unnatural hue. Rivka felt its weight immediately, like the walls remembered screams.
They dropped him into his cell from above, the rock retracting with practised ease. There were no doors or windows, just stone and silence. He rolled his shoulders, flexing his wrists.
"Charming accommodations," He muttered, staring up at the vanishing figures, "Do you treat all your guests this well?"
No reply. Just fading footsteps.
He sank onto the cot, barely more than a slab, and exhaled. Dry. No puddles. No airflow. Like an animal, He was boxed in but could still feel the water above. The lake wasn't lost to him. Not yet. Long Feng knew what kind of prisoner Rivka was, and that was fine. Rivka knew what kind of manipulator he was dealing with, too.
And yet, they hadn't killed him.
That was the tell. Long Feng wasn't trying to eliminate a threat. He was trying to use one. That meant Rivka still had value. Still had leverage that he could work with.
He crossed his arms and leaned back, resting his head against the wall. He had played this game before. Starvation. Silence. Isolation. It was always the same. Even in the Fire Nation, they had tried this. Silence as a weapon had nearly worked until Ozai realised Rivka was worth more alive than dead. Worth more at the strategy table than bleeding on a floor.
Long Feng would learn the same lesson. Eventually, Rivka didn't pace. He didn't call out. He didn't give them anything. Time passed. Food came. Cold rice, cold vegetables. No water.
He waited. They would act first; aboveground, there were still pieces in play.
Team Avatar. His diplomats. Azula, if she was still in the city. Rivka had always walked willingly into cages because there were always exit strategies behind them.
If he didn't want to be here, he wouldn't be, but he was here. So he would wait, and when the moment came, he would end this game.
He sighed, sitting on the cot and taking stock of his surroundings. The cell was dry, and there were no convenient puddles to work with. The air was stale, and there was no breeze around. However, at a reach, the push and pull of the lake far above them was soothing for the wait he'd have to buckle down for.
Long Feng knew exactly what kind of prisoner he was dealing with.
That wasn't surprising.
What was surprising, however, was the fact that Rivka was still alive at all. Long Feng didn't waste resources. If he had decided Rivka was a threat, he wouldn't have brought him here; he would've had the Dai Li dispose of him quietly in some forgotten corner of the city. But instead, Rivka had been captured and detained.
That meant Long Feng thought he was still useful.
That, at least, was something he could work with. Rivka leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. He would wait. Observe, and when the time came, he would be ready.
Distantly, he hoped that Azula might play her cards and come see him because there was no way a Fire Nation Princess was kicking around without some deal having been struck.
Rivka wasn't sure how much time had passed. It could have been hours. It could have been a full day. There were no windows, no change in the flickering green light of the lanterns embedded in the stone. The air never shifted. The silence stretched. The only indication that time was passing came in the form of the Dai Li.
Occasionally, they would lower food into his cell using their stone platforms, their movements eerily smooth, their faces unreadable. They didn't speak, not to him, not to each other. They merely brought him meals, if one could call cold rice and vegetables a meal, checked his cell, and left as swiftly as they arrived. He was worried about dying of thirst as they'd seemed too scared to give him a drink, but Rivka would wait for now.
It was a game, a waiting game. Rivka had played these before.
In the Fire Nation, silence was a weapon. You could starve a man of conversation, deny him the simple comfort of human interaction, and watch him unravel. It had nearly broken him once, in the weeks after his capture, before Ozai had figured out what to do with him, before the Fire Lord had decided he was better as an opponent across the table than a corpse in the dirt.
You're going to have to try harder than that, Long Feng.
The Grand Secretariat wanted something. He wouldn't waste time with psychological tactics unless he thought Rivka could be made to cooperate.
He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep as he mulled over his options. The Dai Li wouldn't let him out of here unless Long Feng himself decided it was time. That meant Rivka either had to wait for an opportunity... or create one.
His stomach twisted at the thought of what might be happening aboveground. Did the kids even realise he was missing yet? His team? Would they come looking for him?
They shouldn't.
If Aang, Katara, Sokka, or Toph tried to storm this place, they'd be walking into a trap. They'd barely made it out of their last run-in with the Dai Li, and now they were in the middle of Ba Sing Se's most dangerous game. Ren and Pakku had more experience but also more to lose with their precious position. He'd hopefully be alone on this one.
Then there was Azula. Rivka knew she was lurking somewhere in the city, waiting. Watching. Pulling threads he couldn't see just yet, but would, in time. She wouldn't move until she was sure of the outcome. Neither would he. He had to get out of here before her next play.
But how?
His bending was useless in a dry cell. No moisture, no leverage. Not without pushing his body beyond safe limits, and this place wasn't built sloppily enough for that gamble.
So, he'd wait. Willingly. Let them think otherwise. Let them believe he was cornered. He'd chosen surrender for a reason, and if he didn't want to be here, no one on this side of the planet could have stopped him.
He still had control, and that meant he still had power. So when the Dai Li finally returned with food and a message, Rivka was already upright, alert, and prepared.
"Long Feng requests your presence," One of the stone-faced agents said.
Rivka stretched with deliberate ease, rolling out his shoulders like he had all the time in the world.
"Well. Took him long enough. Thought maybe he'd lost his nerve."
They said nothing, and they never did. They just formed their stone platforms and gestured for him to step on them. Rivka complied, calm and calculating.
Let's see what the snake thinks he can buy with silence and stone.
The office, Long Feng's so-called sanctuary, was exactly what he'd expected. No windows. No air. No hint of light that hadn't been tamed and ordered. This place wasn't meant for diplomacy. It was a throne room disguised as a desk. Everything here was placement and pretence.
The walls are wrapped in scrolls touting Earth Kingdom supremacy. The looming city map behind the desk is carved in polished stone, Ba Sing Se's rings etched into the walls like shackles.
Rivka's eyes flicked over everything with clinical disinterest as the doors closed behind him. Long Feng sat immobile, hands folded. The stillness in his body betrayed the endless calculations behind his eyes.
"Master Rivka," he greeted smoothly, "I trust your accommodations have been... adequate."
Rivka snorted, "Adequate? Please. Compared to Fire Nation hospitality, this place is practically a spa retreat. All you're missing is the tea and hot coals."
A flicker of amusement tugged at the corners of Long Feng's mouth, "The Fire Nation must have challenged you, then."
"Not challenged," Rivka said easily, "I just learned how to stretch my legs in a gilded cage."
He said it lightly, but the weight underneath was clear. You won't keep me here, either. Long Feng leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"You've spent months negotiating with Fire Lord Ozai. You've earned his ear, his trust."
Rivka's smile didn't waver, but the soulmark beneath his collarbone flared. A soft heat, like a pulse, not painful but aware. Distant. It was as if Ozai had felt that moment of tension across the divide. Rivka ignored it outwardly but kept the awareness tucked close. He wasn't as alone as Long Feng thought.
"The Fire Nation is not easily steered," Long Feng continued, "But you've been trying, haven't you? Softening the sharp edges. Nudging the beast off course."
Rivka tilted his head, "Someone's been reading my reports."
Long Feng's gaze was steady, "I've been reading you."
That got a twitch of a smirk from Rivka, "Then you should know I'm a little harder to parse than a debriefing scroll."
"Do you really believe you can change the course of an empire?" Long Feng pressed on.
Rivka paused, just long enough for effect. Then shrugged, casually.
"I believe in pressure points."
He thought of Ozai. Of the hours spent challenging, cornering, and questioning. Of soul-deep arguments that left them both shaken. Of the moments when the man had looked at him and hesitated. It wasn't anything. It was working.
Long Feng studied him, "So you believe in lost causes."
"No. I just like the fight," Rivka's grin came slowly.
Long Feng gave that same unreadable smile, "Then perhaps it's time to stop wasting your efforts on one empire and turn your sights toward another."
There it is. The offer was unexpected and almost insulting.
"You want me to work for you," Rivka said, dryly.
"I want you to work for Ba Sing Se," Long Feng replied, "The world needs order. Structure. The Earth Kingdom has always provided that. But with your mind, your experience..."
He gestured wide, "We could restore balance where the Fire Nation only fans chaos."
Rivka imagined it.
A city that is called the city of peace and silence. A ruler who didn't burn dissent, he erased it. A machine fueled by shadows, not fire. Ozai might scorch the world to ash. Long Feng would bury it alive.
The soulmark warmed again, faintly, as if Ozai felt something shift inside him and didn't yet know why. Rivka smiled, sharp-edged. Then he laughed. It started low, but built quickly. Enough to ruffle Long Feng's composure.
"You think this is funny?"
"Oh, incredibly," Rivka said, "You snatch me from a diplomatic meeting, toss me in a box, and then try to hire me? Really should've led with the job offer."
"I had hoped for a more diplomatic solution," Long Feng's patience thinned.
Rivka raised a brow, "You don't know me at all."
"So that's a no?" Long Feng's voice cooled.
"That's a fuck no."
The words landed heavily. Long Feng lifted a hand. Stone cracked upward, slamming Rivka's arms back. His chest, his throat, tight enough to restrict, not enough to panic. It was a show of dominance. A warning. Rivka's expression didn't even flicker.
Long Feng stepped forward, quiet menace in his voice.
"Ba Sing Se does not change. But people? People break."
Rivka bared his teeth.
"You think I'm brittle?" His voice dropped to a whisper, barely controlled, "I'm a Waterbender. I move. I wait. I learn the shape of the space I'm in, and then I flood it."
"No. You erode," Long Feng's smile was tight.
Rivka chuckled, even as the stone pulled tighter.
"I'm counting on it."
And as he was dragged back into the dark, he carried two things with him: his will, intact and the steady, distant warmth of a soulmark that refused to fade.
The cell was quiet again. Rivka stood still, jaw clenched, stone restraints now gone but bruises lingering beneath his sleeves. He paced slowly, deliberately, every step measured, grounding himself. Long Feng's parting words echoed, but they didn't sink in. Not like they were meant to.
He'd played with tyrants before. Unlike Long Feng, Ozai never needed lies to dominate. His cruelty had been a direct, unyielding flame. But Long Feng? He wanted compliance wrapped in silk, and Rivka had refused both.
He sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, closing his eyes, breath steady as he found the rhythm of his pulse. The silence stretched. Beneath it, something hummed.
There. A faint, pulsing warmth along his chest, barely more than a whisper, like a breeze across embers. His soulmark. Ozai. Distant, muted, but... there. Rivka didn't know how, didn't understand the depth of the connection yet, but the mark had felt him snap. And something on the other end had stirred. It grounded him. Re-centred him.
Then he heard it. A low rumble, distant, but unmistakable. Not earth-shifting by design, not the practised control of the Dai Li. This was chaos. Rebellion. Battle.
Rivka rose to his feet, body coiled and ready. Another boom echoed down the corridor, sharper this time. Shouts. Stone cracking. Someone's fighting. He pressed a hand to the wall, feeling through the vibrations. After a split-second of concentration, he found it: humidity, moisture. Small, yes. Weak but present. Water.
With a sharp breath and a flick of his fingers, Rivka tugged at what little moisture lingered in the cracks of the stones, just enough to slick the hinges of the locked door. Another explosion rocked the chamber. That one was close.
Now or never. He slid into motion with a sharp twist of his hand. Ice formed within the lock and forced it outward with a snap. He slipped into the hallway, his movements precise. There were no guards. The chaos had pulled them elsewhere. That was his opening.
He followed the sounds, footsteps, shouting, and the hum of bending. Another crash, this time followed by a voice. A girl's. Furious, familiar.
Azula.
Rivka broke into a run.
The deeper he went, the worse the architecture became. Walls were unfinished, and corridors were twisting. The underbelly of Ba Sing Se was a place built to lose people. But Rivka was good at surviving places built to make people disappear. Some parts even gave way to a glowing green type of crystal that seemed to increase in size and frequency the further he ran. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a flash of light, blue lightning arcing off stone and crystal. Azula.
She stood in the catacombs' heart, lightning flickering in her hands. Across from her: Zuko, visibly torn. Katara, bristling with rage. Aang, mid-motion, staff in hand. Long Feng lurked behind Azula, eyes sharp, waiting for the right moment to command.
None of them had seen Rivka yet. He stayed half in the shadows, taking stock. Azula's focus was on Aang. Zuko looked ready to break in either direction. Katara's hands were clenched at her sides, water already swirling around her like a warning.
And then Aang's eyes briefly flickered toward the hallway where Rivka stood.
So did Azula's.
Guess he was doing this shit show then.
Chapter 36: The Catacombs
Notes:
Cheeky update on this casual Friday. I'm back to teaching actual people again next week!! Crazy, right? Updates will continue, if not timed weirdly. :)
01.08.25
Chapter Text
Rivka barely moved as the heated exchange unfolded before him, watching as Azula, Katara, Aang, and Zuko stood locked in a silent standoff beneath the eerie green glow of the crystals. Long Feng lingered near the entrance, his usual composure strained but intact.
The space was vast and unnaturally still; the ceiling was lost to darkness above them. The soft, luminous shimmer of the embedded crystals was the only source of light, their reflections casting long, fractured shadows against the smooth cavern walls. Azula smiled, slow and unbothered, her hands clasped neatly behind her back.
"How unexpected to see you here, Rivka."
Her golden eyes cut to him, assessing him. Amused.
Rivka said nothing. Not yet. He let the moment stretch, his stance deceptively relaxed. He wanted to see what Azula would do.
Katara was stiff beside him, her fingers twitching toward the water pouches at her hip. Aang was silent, tense, his expression drawn. Zuko's conflicted gaze darted between Azula and the others. He was uncertain. Azula was not; she tilted her head.
"You look like you have something to say."
Rivka sighed. Finally, he spoke, his voice flat, unimpressed.
"Does your father know you're doing this?"
For the first time, Azula hesitated. It was so small, so quick, a twitch of her brow, but Rivka caught it. Azula recovered effortlessly, shifting her weight as though she hadn't just faltered.
"Why would he need to? I know what's best."
Rivka watched her carefully, "So, this isn't a direct order?"
"Does it matter?" Azula's tone remained light, teasing, but there was something else there now, "I'm ensuring Fire Nation victory. Father will be pleased."
Rivka exhaled slowly through his nose, expression unreadable. He couldn't tell if she was telling the truth. That was the problem, but Zuko was staring at her now, brow furrowed in rare thoughtfulness.
The doubt was there.
Azula, realising this, pivoted. She turned, walking a slow circle around the cavern.
"Really, Master Rivka, I expected better from you. Playing the neutral party is a bad look these days, don't you think?" She waved a hand lazily toward Aang and Katara, "They'll never trust you," she gestured toward Zuko, "And neither will he."
She smiled sharply, "And, well... Father already has his doubts."
Rivka did not react. But that-that was a direct shot. Katara sucked in a sharp breath. Aang's expression darkened, and Zuko looked thrown. Azula, ever perceptive, latched onto that. She grinned, her voice a low purr.
"Oh, did you think Father approved of his soulmate's little Earth Kingdom adventures? His independent diplomacy?"
Zuko's eyes snapped to Rivka. Rivka finally moved. He rolled his shoulders, letting out a slow breath.
"Alright."
"What?" Azula blinked.
Rivka stepped forward, his expression tired, "That's enough."
Azula's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ba Sing Se is yours now, is it?" Rivka said, voice sharp and flat, "Then let's talk about what comes next."
A beat of silence. Then Azula laughed.
"Oh, please," she flicked a hand dismissively, "There's nothing to discuss. The war is over."
Aang's hands clenched into fists, "It's not over."
"You're right. It'll be over when you're dead," Azula grinned at him.
The words set everything off. Katara struck first; her water surged, slicing through the air in a deadly arc. Azula barely twisted away in time, her grin widening as blue flames burst to life in her hands.
Zuko hesitated, just for a moment, before fire burst from his palms, intercepting Katara's attack. Aang pulled his staff from his back, the earth rising beneath his feet as he launched forward. Azula met him in midair. The cavern exploded into chaos.
Rivka had yet to move.
His hands were at his sides, his breath slow and even. He was watching. Then, from the entrance, Long Feng lunged forward. The earth beneath Rivka's feet lurched, sharp stone spikes erupting toward him.
Rivka exhaled sharply. Water answered. The condensation from the crystals and the nearby underground reservoir, he pulled it all at once.
A solid wave of ice surged upward, stopping Long Feng's attack cold.
"You don't belong in this fight," Long Feng's face darkened.
"I don't belong anywhere, but here we are," Rivka cracked his neck.
And with that, he braced to fight. The air was thick with tension, the damp walls of the catacombs closing in as Rivka took in the sight before him. Katara stood beside Aang, her body tense, water already coiling at her fingertips. Across from them, Azula smirked, poised like a coiled viper, lightning crackling faintly in her palm. Zuko lingered at her side, conflicted but standing firm. Long Feng, standing a few paces behind Azula, observed the battlefield with calculating eyes.
Then came Iroh. The elder Firebender entered from the shadows, but he wasn't alone. More Dai Li agents flanked him, their hands poised to strike at Long Feng's command. Rivka barely kept himself from groaning. As if this situation weren't bad enough.
Iroh's golden eyes flicked to Rivka, then to Azula and Zuko. His lips thinned.
"So this is where we've come to."
Azula gave a light laugh, "Oh, Uncle, you're always so dramatic. Isn't it fitting that the fall of Ba Sing Se happens right here in its rotten heart?"
"Long Feng, would you care to do the honours?" She gestured at the Dai Li agents.
The Earth Kingdom official stepped forward, finally claiming the stage, and said, "With pleasure."
His fingers flicked, and the Dai Li surged into action. Rivka reacted instinctively, water rushing from the pools along the cavern floor to intercept the incoming rocks. The fight erupted in full. Azula wasted no time striking at Aang, blue fire lighting up the chamber, forcing the young Avatar to go on the defensive. Katara responded with a surge of water, but Zuko intercepted her attack with a wall of flame.
Iroh, forced into defence by the Dai Li, turned his back to Rivka, covering him as they were steadily pushed into a precarious position.
"It seems our battlefields have aligned, Master Rivka," Iroh said, his voice strained but still carrying an amused edge.
Rivka let out a dry laugh as he ducked under a stone fist meant to take his head off.
"Just what I always wanted, fighting side by side with a Fire Nation general twice. Truly, my life has taken unexpected turns."
Long Feng wasn't content just letting his agents handle things. The Grand Secretariat moved with sharp precision, sending jagged earth spikes directly at Rivka's legs. Rivka countered by freezing the water along the ground, forming an ice ramp that slid him effortlessly out of range. Long Feng's brows furrowed.
"I thought you were supposed to be a diplomat," Long Feng remarked, flicking his wrist to shatter Rivka's ice path, "Yet here you are, fighting for a lost cause."
Rivka dodged left, sending a precise arc of water aimed at Long Feng's knees. The older man shifted his footing just in time to avoid being knocked over.
"Diplomacy is just war with better manners," Rivka shot back, "And I have a habit of not losing."
Despite their best efforts, it was clear the fight was spiralling out of control. Azula's tactics were precise and manipulative, pressuring Aang and Katara simultaneously, leaving no room for retreat. Zuko, though uncertain, was still on her side for now. Long Feng was proving to be a greater combatant than expected, and the Dai Li's numbers were overwhelming, even with Iroh's experience.
Rivka exhaled through his nose, the chill of the damp air swirling around him as he made a choice.
Enough.
The temperature in the cavern plummeted. The battle stuttered as everyone felt it; ice crept over the stone, and the air grew thick with condensation. Rivka straightened, his hands lowering as he cast his gaze upward toward the ceiling.
"Right," he muttered to himself, "Guess I'm doing this."
Then, loud enough for all to hear:
"If you imbeciles don't stop fighting, I will drop the entire lake above us on this chamber."
Silence.
Azula's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Zuko's flames wavered. Iroh turned his head just slightly, brow lifting.
"Ah," Iroh said, ever the polite observer, "I had suspected you were powerful, but I did not expect that."
Rivka rolled his shoulders, spreading his fingers. He didn't need to do much; the water was already there, waiting, pressing against the stone above them. He could do it. And they all knew it.
"You're bluffing," Long Feng said, unbothered, arms folded. Ever pragmatic. Ever confident.
Rivka didn't answer with words. He moved. A sharp twist of his wrist, and the cavern's temperature dropped. The ceiling groaned as thin fractures split through the stone in all directions. A thunderous crack echoed through the catacombs as a spider's web of cracks spread above them. Water surged through the cracks, not trickling, but flooding in thin high-pressure streams, slicing through the air like whips and soaking the ground around Long Feng's feet.
Rivka stepped forward, eyes hard, shoulders squared. He moved with an eerie grace, each motion purposeful and precise. The water obeyed instantly, lifting around him in a coiling arc like a serpent prepared to strike. Tendrils of water sharpened into icy points, hovering in the air with terrifying stillness.
Long Feng's composure finally cracked. His stance shifted, defensive. He bent poorly. The floor shuddered as he tried to pull the stone up as a shield, but Rivka had already flooded the space beneath them. The earth refused to rise cleanly, wet, slick, and uncooperative.
Rivka swept his arm to the side. A wave slammed against Long Feng's feet, sending him skidding backward.
"Try me," Rivka said flatly.
Long Feng scrambled, bending again, this time with more force, but the water twisted upward, blocking the motion. A ring of spinning water formed between them, cutting off Long Feng's strikes with seamless precision. Every time he tried to gain footing, Rivka disrupted it, barely lifting a finger. It wasn't just bending. It was domination.
"You're not fighting any straggler this time," Rivka said, his voice low and controlled, "You're fighting me, and all water listens to me."
Rivka's expression sharpened, his usual casual demeanour fading into something colder. He lifted one hand, and in a single motion, the falling water stopped and froze into place in the cracks above. A threat that he could easily pull the water back down in a breath if necessary. Azula, on the other hand, laughed.
"Oh, I like you like this," she said, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear, "You're just as dramatic as Father."
"Does he know we currently share conflicting interests?" Rivka's expression didn't change.
The question hit its mark. Azula's body remained still, but there was a flicker in her eyes, too quick, too subtle, but Rivka was trained to notice such things.
"Of course he does," she said smoothly. Too smoothly.
Rivka exhaled through his nose, turning slightly to Zuko, who looked less certain than ever. "Your father didn't order this directly. Where do we go from here?"
Zuko hesitated. That was all the confirmation Rivka needed. Azula waved a hand dismissively.
"Oh, you know how it is. Father trusts me to handle things in the way I see fit."
"Spirits help me, I am surrounded by teenagers making world-altering decisions without a single adult in sight," Rivka dragged a hand down his face.
"Welcome to reality," Azula's smile sharpened.
Rivka eventually let the ceiling settle, keeping control of the lake but no longer actively threatening them with it. Iroh, ever the tactician, subtly maneuvered closer to Zuko as if preparing for a final push.
Rivka glanced toward Katara and Aang. They were exhausted, wary but hopeful. If they were going to keep the Earth Kingdom from falling completely, this was the moment to act. Long Feng, realising his precarious position, straightened his sleeves.
"Perhaps negotiations are in order."
"You think?" Rivka sighed.
Azula's grin returned, "Oh, this should be fun."
...
The grand halls of the Earth Kingdom's palace echoed with a tense, anticipatory silence. The Earth King, Kuei, sat stiffly upon his throne, flanked by his ever-present bear, Bosco. Mai and Ty Lee stood near him, acting as Azula's diplomatic placeholders until she arrived. Sokka and Toph, neither of whom had the patience for drawn-out political discussions, were already here before the conflict below had broken out, trapped in their roles as unfortunate witnesses to what was about to unfold.
And now, Rivka arrived with Azula, Aang, and Katara in tow.
Behind them, his chosen delegation followed, their presence a testament to just how serious he was about navigating this political minefield. He'd barely had time to call them in as they went. The Fire Nation representatives moved with measured precision, their disciplined composure evident. The Water Tribe delegation carried a different kind of presence: Pakku's controlled authority, Kuma's patient calm, Sira's warrior's tension.
At the front, Rivka carried himself with deliberate ease, his sharp eyes scanning the room as he assessed the power dynamics at play. His presence was fluid, adaptable, a man who could be both diplomat and warrior at a moment's notice.
And beneath it all, the flickering presence of his soul mark tugged at his awareness. A ripple of something sharp, pride, satisfaction, and curiosity travelled through the mark. Rivka inhaled slowly.
Ozai was aware. No, more than that, he was paying attention. The pulse of the soul mark wasn't a constant presence; their bond could flare up and quiet down depending on the circumstances. Right now, Ozai's emotions were active and focused. Rivka schooled his expression into one of mild amusement, though internally, his thoughts sharpened. Ozai either anticipated something interesting or had received news of what had happened in the catacombs.
Either way, it meant that whatever Rivka did here would reach Ozai's ears with startling clarity.
Fine. Let him listen.
Azula, ever the tactician, had been silently watching the room, taking in every flicker of expression from Kuei, Rivka, and the rest of the court.
She could already tell that Kuei was out of his depth. He had relied too much on Long Feng, and now that the man had been humiliated at Rivka's hands, he was lost. Perfect. Azula could already see her path forward, but Rivka was the one who would lay the foundation. And Azula? She would decide whether to make him her ally or her obstacle.
Either way, it would be entertaining.
Kuei wasn't blind. He may have been naïve, and he may have been recently made aware of the war, but he wasn't stupid. The moment Rivka and his delegation arrived, Kuei realised something. This was not some wandering Waterbender. This was not just a strange ally from the Fire Nation. This was an entire political force, a delicate balancing act between Fire Nation and Water Tribe representatives, all of whom were here with their own goals and motives.
For the first time, Kuei understood the true scale of the game being played. Ba Sing Se was at risk of being controlled not just by the Fire Nation, but by Rivka himself.
Silence hung in the air. Then, Rivka smiled. It was an easy, conversational expression, completely at odds with the sheer weight of what he was about to do.
"Your Majesty," Rivka greeted smoothly, offering a slight bow, "I assume you've had some time to reflect on recent events?"
"I have," Kuei tensed, though he nodded stiffly.
Rivka hummed, mentally acknowledging that the poor man had maybe an hour at best with Mai, Ty Lee, Sokka, and Toph to wrap his head around things.
"Good. Because we need to discuss the future of your kingdom before someone else decides it for you."
A visible shudder ran through Kuei's frame. Mai's eyes flicked toward Azula, whose smirk grew slightly.
Sokka folded his arms, shifting his weight, "So, are we gonna go ahead and talk about the part where Azula is sitting right there, probably already plotting how to make all of this hers?"
Azula didn't even bother denying it. She merely glanced at Rivka, waiting for his response. Rivka, in turn, just laughed.
"That's why we're talking first."
He turned his sharp gaze back to Kuei, voice measured and pointed.
"I am giving you a choice."
For the first time since this conversation started, everyone in the room knew that Rivka, far more than Azula, far more than the Fire Nation, was the most dangerous person in Ba Sing Se right now.
Chapter 37: In the Shadow of Thrones
Notes:
Another Sunday update rip, learning to teach is hard :')
Enjoyyyyyyy politics10.08.25
Chapter Text
The room was a powder keg. Not the kind born of open warfare, but of silent, simmering stakes, the kind that linger in carefully chosen words, the lift of a brow, the pause between breaths. This wasn't a battlefield. It was worse. This was diplomacy at swordpoint.
Rivka had set the board. Now it was time to make his opening move.
King Kuei's fingers twitched against the polished arms of his throne.
"A choice?" His voice cracked, thin as parchment, "I don't recall being given many of those lately."
"That's the difference today," Rivka tilted his head, "For now."
The silence that followed was absolute. Sokka let out a strangled sound and threw up his hands.
"Okay, hold on, am I the only one freaking out that the Fire Nation is just sitting here like they own the place?"
"No," Katara muttered under her breath.
"You're not wrong," Toph added flatly, arms crossed.
Sokka jabbed a finger toward the dais.
"We've got Fire Nation royalty, Earth Kingdom officials, and a throne that's basically an ornament at this point, and we're supposed to talk our way through this?"
"Would you prefer I simply take control without the conversation?" Azula smiled coldly, fingers steepled.
Mai, at her side, remained still as a stone. Ty Lee offered a half-hearted shrug, clearly more curious than worried. Sokka opened his mouth again, but Rivka raised a hand, silencing him.
"This is your moment, King Kuei. The question is: do you want to remain king in name only, or do you want to salvage what's left of your throne?"
Kuei swallowed hard, clearly unused to pressure, "Ba Sing Se does not belong to the Fire Nation."
"Then show me otherwise," Azula said, her smile widening as she spoke, "Let's not pretend there's still a real government here. The Dai Li are broken, Long Feng is disgraced, and your people are too frightened to protest."
Her gaze swept across the room, deliberately skipping over Kuei.
"We're not here because we need permission. We're here because we already won."
Katara bristled. Aang's fists clenched at his sides.
"So what now? Does the weary king hand the reins over to a wandering Waterbender who fancies himself a statesman?" Azula's tone remained almost casual. "
Rivka ignored the bait.
"You mistake presence for power. You may occupy Ba Sing Se, but holding it is another matter entirely."
Azula arched a brow, "Do explain."
Rivka turned, addressing the entire court, his voice sharp.
"This city isn't just a military target. It's the beating heart of the Earth Kingdom's stability. Take that away without a plan, and you don't inherit an empire. You inherit a firestorm."
Mai glanced at Azula, brow raised in quiet interest.
Rivka continued, "The Dai Li operated through secrecy and illusion. Now they're leaderless. The people are confused. Afraid. The sudden collapse of everything they knew will not make them pliable; it will make them desperate."
Azula's composure didn't falter, but her silence was telling.
"You don't have their loyalty," Rivka said, "You have their fear, and fear has an expiration date."
Aang finally stepped forward, "If you push too hard, too fast, the people will fight back."
"They'll resist," Katara added, "Even without the Dai Li, this city is too large to control through force alone."
Rivka was as interested as he was scared that the teenagers were all getting involved in this conversation. Pakku was watching him like a hawk just in case he screwed up that front too.
Kuei's voice trembled, "What are you suggesting, Master Rivka?"
"I'm offering a transition. One that holds this city together long enough for something stable to form."
He looked at Azula, "You don't claim Ba Sing Se. Not outright. Instead, you support Kuei's return to public leadership. Let him issue decrees. Calm the people. Maintain the illusion of continuity."
Kuei blinked, "You want me to pretend to still rule?"
"You'll be more than a puppet," Rivka said, "You'll be a symbol, one the people will listen to. Meanwhile, we explore what it looks like politically for your court to acknowledge the actions of the Fire Nation today. Someone may push policy or decisions on you as a representative for us."
Azula's lips twitched, "So that's my place."
"If you must," Rivka nodded.
She tapped one nail idly against the throne's armrest, "And why would I agree to that? Why take half a victory when I could seize the whole thing?"
"Because if you overreach, you lose everything. Including your father's support," Rivka met her eyes.
That landed.
Ty Lee made a soft "oof" sound. Mai merely shifted her weight, betraying subtle interest. Rivka stepped closer.
"You have already told me that the Fire Lord did not order occupation."
Azula didn't answer. She didn't need to.
"You can't send him a letter saying you burned the Earth Kingdom's capital city into chaos without a plan for what comes next," Rivka said, "Even he knows the difference between conquest and collapse."
Azula's golden eyes narrowed.
"You need people intervening," Rivka said plainly, "Because you're not a ruler yet. You're still a conqueror, and if you want to hold this city without it turning to ash in your hands, you need someone who understands how to control chaos."
Azula studied him. Then, slowly, she stood. The room tensed as she walked forward, eyes locked on Rivka's. When she stopped, they were nearly chest to chest.
"You really think you can broker peace while standing in the middle of a stolen palace?" She asked.
"I'm not interested in peace," Rivka said, "I'm interested in order."
A white lie.
A slow, sharp grin touched her lips. Ty Lee whispered to Mai, "I think she likes him."
Mei replied, "Or wants to stab him. Hard to say."
Azula turned, "Very well. The Earth King stays. Publicly."
Kuei blinked in disbelief.
"But," Azula said, voice like a knife's edge, "He will do nothing without Fire Nation oversight, and if I see the slightest sign of betrayal-"
"You'll burn it all down," Rivka finished, "Yes, we know."
A pause. Then, unexpectedly, Azula laughed. Not out of joy, but satisfaction. The next game was on.
Azula considered it. She truly considered it.
Ba Sing Se wasn't meant to be hers. It was an opportunity, not a necessity. And if she played this game wisely, she could gain all the advantages without shouldering the risks.
"You'll go along with this?" She glanced at Kuei.
Kuei's hands trembled in his lap, but for once in his life, the Earth King chose to keep his spine.
"If it keeps my people from suffering," he murmured, "Then yes."
Azula hummed. She looked at Rivka, assessing. Then she smirked.
"Very well. Let's see how well you navigate your own game, Rivka."
The deal was made. Ba Sing Se wasn't lost, but it was now in a delicate balance and Rivka? He had just placed himself directly between the Fire Nation, the Earth Kingdom, and his own people.
The deal had been made. The lines had been drawn.
And now? Now, they had to live with it.
Aang was the first to break the silence.
"This..." He struggled for words, "This isn't a solution."
"It's the best one you're going to get," Rivka glanced at him.
Aang hated that answer. His fists clenched at his sides, "But it's still letting them win."
Katara, standing behind him, glared at Rivka.
"Azula still has control. The Fire Nation still holds Ba Sing Se. How is that any kind of victory?"
Rivka didn't answer immediately. He took in their frustration and disappointment, and then, in a quiet, steady voice, he said, "Because no one is dead."
That cut through their anger like a blade.
Rivka continued, voice even, "Because this city isn't burning. Because the alternative was fire in the streets, executions, and war in every home. I bought you time."
Aang looked away, jaw tight. Sokka, despite the anger on his face, understood it first.
"He's right."
Katara turned on him, furious, "Sokka-"
"I hate it too!" Sokka snapped, expression dark, "But what were we supposed to do? Azula has already won! She had the Dai Li, the throne, and the entire city wrapped around her little finger. We weren't going to undo that overnight."
Katara didn't want to accept it. Neither did Aang, but Sokka had just put to words what they already knew. Ba Sing Se had already fallen. What Rivka had done wasn't saving it; it was keeping the collapse from crushing everyone beneath it.
Ty Lee was the first to break the tension, her voice unusually soft.
"This doesn't feel right," she said, "It feels like we're pretending."
Azula's gaze flicked to her, "Ty Lee."
She hesitated, "I just didn't think we'd be pretending to let them rule while we pull the strings."
Azula studied her, unreadable, "It isn't pretending. We won."
Ty Lee didn't look convinced. Mai, on the other hand, was watching everything with narrowed eyes.
Azula looked at her next, "And you?"
"I think you're upset that you didn't come up with this yourself," Mai's lips curled in the smallest smirk.
Azula's expression didn't change. But Rivka saw it, the slight tension in her jaw, the flicker of something unreadable behind her eyes. She wasn't upset. She was calculating.
Already measuring the cost of this deal. Already considering what it meant for her own future.
The Earth King sat in his chair, looking down at his hands. Still shaken. Still trying to process the fact that he had agreed to something so humiliating as a last chance to stop his city from falling completely.
"So," he said, voice heavy, "I remain a King with no power."
Rivka studied him, "For now."
Kuei looked up at him sharply.
"I didn't just do this for Azula. I did it for you, too. It gives you a chance to actually be a king," Rivka folded his arms.
Kuei's mouth tightened, "I have no control."
"You have influence," Rivka corrected, "The people still believe in you. Use that. Make yourself more than a figurehead. If you're smart, you can turn this into a real resistance."
Kuei's eyes widened slightly. He looked at Rivka, really looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Azula, of course, caught on immediately.
"Clever," Her smirk returned.
Rivka ignored her. The Kuei, however, sat up straighter.
"You think I can still fight back?"
"I think you can do more than nothing," Rivka tilted his head as he answered.
A moment of quiet.
And then, for the first time in this conversation, Kuei nodded. He looked more resolved than Rivka could have hoped for in this mess of a plan.
With the deal in place, everyone had to move.
As the conversation wound down, Azula smiled, something sharp and knowing.
"I'll be keeping an eye on you, Waterbender."
Rivka didn't flinch. "Likewise."
The tension in the room hadn't lifted, even with the break in official talks and Azula's group leaving. Bystanders had retreated, leaving behind fresh tea and too many empty chairs. The group of kids and four adults had migrated to a smaller meeting room to breathe and talk things out. Rivka stood near a low table, nursing a cup between his hands. Kuei sat quietly beside him, glancing toward the large window like he were trying to see past the walls of his own palace.
Aang paced. Sokka leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. Katara hadn't sat down since they entered. Ren and Pakku lingered near the entrance, silent but alert. Watching. Listening.
Rivka finally broke the quiet, "You all know what almost happened here."
"We do know. Azula nearly took the city completely. She still has it," Aang turned sharply.
"No," Rivka said calmly, "She has influence. Not control."
"That's the same thing with better branding," Sokka snorted.
"Not quite," Rivka replied, "If she wanted full control, she'd have it. I couldn't have stopped her. None of us could. Not without blood in the streets and the Earth King executed before nightfall."
Kuei flinched.
Rivka didn't soften, "But she didn't do that because I gave her something better."
Aang stopped pacing, "You gave her the capital."
"No. I gave her a choice. Legitimacy, in exchange for restraint."
"You handed her the illusion of victory so she'd stop short of an actual one," Sokka narrowed his eyes.
"That's exactly what I did," Rivka said, "Kuei stays on the throne. The Dai Li still wear Earth Kingdom colours. The people still wake up under their own flag. It's not perfect, but it's better than burning."
"So what's your endgame? Because this looks like you're playing all sides," Katara folded her arms.
"That's because I am. I have to find the right amount of balance for this to work," Rivka said plainly.
He gestured toward Kuei, "The Earth Kingdom is fractured. Ba Sing Se was its heart, but it was blind. Now, at least, it can see. Kuei stays in place, not because Azula allows it, but because the world needs a stable Earth Kingdom to exist. He learns. He leads. Not just for his palace, but for the whole nation."
Kuei looked at him, surprised but thoughtful.
"And the Fire Nation?" Sokka asked.
"They don't have full power here," Rivka said, "But they think they have leverage. Enough to keep Azula cooperative, for now. I've made sure the Fire Lord gets credit for keeping Ba Sing Se intact, even if Azula's smart enough to know I'm feeding her half-truths."
Aang's voice was quiet, "You're not angry?"
Rivka smiled without humour. "I'm furious, but fury doesn't get you results when the people calling the shots are halfway across a sea."
Pakku shifted behind him but said nothing.
"And the Water Tribe?" Katara asked, "Where do we fit in your grand compromise?"
"You watch," Rivka said, "Bear witness. Gain trust. You've been at war with the Fire Nation for a century. I'm not asking for forgiveness or even results right now, I'm asking for space."
Sokka's voice was sharper now, "Space to do what?"
"To be the one thing none of us have had," Rivka answered, "A connection. Wartime is still in effect in all nations, and yet here I stand representing the Fire Nation alongside Water Tribe delegates, trying to open talks with the Earth Kingdom."
Katara's expression shifted, uncertain, "You think the Fire Nation will ever accept that?"
"They already have," Rivka said softly, "They just don't know it yet."
"And Azula?" Aang asked.
"She's listening," Rivka said, glancing toward the corners of the room, "She already knows I'm not loyal to her. That I'm dangerous, but right now, I'm useful."
"You think this will last?" Sokka asked.
"No," Rivka said, "But it doesn't have to. It just needs to hold long enough for Kuei to become someone worth following and for the Fire Nation to realise they gain more by restraint than domination."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"The world nearly lost Ba Sing Se. You all know that. This city was one breath away from collapse. If I hadn't offered Azula a better story to tell, she would've written it herself in blood."
Aang swallowed hard.
"So yes," Rivka finished, "I compromised so we all survived. Because now, we have a city that's aware. A king who's learning. An empire held at arm's length and a war that hasn't ended in screams."
Kuei, silent until now, spoke softly, "You believe in me more than I believe in myself."
"I believe in what you can be," Rivka said, "And I don't intend to waste that."
There was silence again, this time different. Thoughtful. Heavy. Pakku cleared his throat softly, just once, then resumed his quiet vigil.
Katara looked down, then finally said, "It's not the solution I wanted. But I can see why you did it."
"Still feels like holding a snake by the tail," Sokka grunted.
"Then you hold it gently," Rivka murmured, "And you don't let it bite until you're ready."
Aang, still a bit wound up, asked to speak to Rivka alone outside. The pair went and found a balcony to look out over the city.
"So what now?" he asked, desperate for something real. Something that meant this wasn't just another Fire Nation victory, even after Rivka had phrased it as he had.
Rivka exhaled, "Now?"
He glanced at the people in the meeting room and the officials lurking around the palace, at the shaken foundations of a broken city.
"Now, we see who plays their hand better."
"Does that mean you have another hand to play?" Aang asked, picking up on it quickly.
"I have five Waterbenders, four Firebenders, myself, and whoever they convinced in the upper ring to listen to them," Rivka glanced around the room, "Diplomacy is bullshit, I'd say don't get into it, but you are the Avatar."
"Why put yourself through this?" Aang quickly changed the direction of the conversation.
"I just didn't want to have to fall in love with a man who dictated the entire world," Rivka awkwardly laughed, "You know it's try and fix it or try and live with myself for not trying at all."
Aang gasped at the admission. Rivka's soulmark tingled in some half-sad, half-happy feeling that made Rivka want to grimace.
"You're romantic soulmates?" Aang quietly asked as the world seemed to go silent.
"We haven't verbally confirmed anything," Rivka softly mused, "That and I've been very busy practising to quell his war."
"Will you succeed?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Rivka answered noncommittally, "You'd best be wary too; I'm guessing the order for your capture won't go away anytime soon."
Aang ducked his head and looked around before gulping.
"Will you be okay?"
Rivka didn't quite know how to answer that, so he hummed and decided to voice his feelings for the first time in a while.
"I'm scared, I was born a warrior and a bender, not a great diplomat or someone well-versed in monarchies, so I'm out of my depth all the time. I think I'm doing well enough that I can sleep at night, and my choices don't haunt my waking thoughts all that often."
Rivka ran a hand through his hair, "Does that answer you?"
"I think it does," Aang smiled, "Thank you, Rivka, for what you're doing.
"It's the best I can do," Rivka shrugged before turning away, "I do have to go and inform nine people that we have to piece back a political system without it collapsing, if you don't mind?"
"No need, Rivka," Shingen called out with a smile as the massive group walked into the room behind the balcony, "Word got to us from a very timid Dai Li agent who filled us in."
"Who, pray tell, ordered that?" Rivka smiled.
"I believe it was the Princess," Narook raised a brow, "And I think you gave us more work than we bargained for."
Rivka laughed at that as it seemed all of the team Avatar knew someone from his little group, and King Kuei was delighted to see familiar faces.
Chapter 38: Rebuilding the Future
Notes:
:)
15.08.25
Chapter Text
"Rivka, you've given us more work than we bargained for," Pakku grumbled as he strode into the throne room, his arms crossed and sharp eyes scanning the golden space with seasoned wariness.
Rivka grinned, leaning casually against one of the ornate pillars, "I call it job security."
The rest of his team filtered in behind him, Fire Nation red and Water Tribe blue blending awkwardly in Ba Sing Se's opulent hall. The contrast wasn't lost on Kuei, who observed the mismatched delegation with curiosity more than unease. That was good. A hesitant king could be moulded; a frightened one might bolt.
"We've already started assessing the damage left behind by the Dai Li," Lin reported, stepping beside Rivka, "There's resistance, but not as much as expected. The people want stability."
"They want order," Malik added, adjusting the scrolls tucked under his arm, "We can offer that. But how long are we staying?"
Rivka exhaled, rolling his shoulders, "A month, hopefully less. We're here to stabilise, not settle."
"Then we've got our work cut out for us," Kuma muttered, already scribbling notes, "Healing the city's wounds is easy. Rebuilding trust? That'll take longer."
Kuei cleared his throat, drawing their attention, "Then we must not waste time."
He glanced around at the gathered team and gave a small, uncertain smile.
"If you'll help me rebuild my city, then let's begin."
The days that followed would be relentless. Under careful supervision, a new council would start to take shape. Rivka ensured the Fire Nation's presence wouldn't overstep, while Pakku quietly negotiated with Earth Kingdom officials to realign diplomatic priorities. Lin would move through the city, gauging public sentiment. Lord Shingen was to adjust Ba Sing Se's foreign policies just enough to keep the Fire Nation and Water Tribes tethered while befriending the entire population of scholars and wooing academic nobles as he went. It was all planned out.
Azula, naturally, remained a shadow over it all, ever present, ever watching.
"I hope you're not seriously planning to leave them with free will," Azula drawled, sipping her tea with that familiar, razor-edged poise.
Rivka didn't look up from the stack of reports he's just received, "Funny. I was just about to say the same to you."
Azula's smirk curled, amused and predatory, "Oh, Rivka. You always assume we're playing the same game."
He finally glanced her way, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, "Because I've started getting better at moving first."
Ba Sing Se would stand, for now. The pieces were falling into place. The next move was coming.
...
In a quiet corner of the palace, Rivka, Pakku, and Ren convened under the hush of evening.
"You know this feels like treason, right?" Ren muttered.
"Only if I fail," Rivka said flatly.
"He's not wrong," Pakku added, "But he's not entirely right, either," he exhaled.
"What did you pull in that throne room? Risky. Brilliant. Dangerous."
"Improvised," Rivka said. "The foundation was there. We just didn't expect to need it this fast."
"We were supposed to stabilise, not ignite a new political order," Ren hissed, "And now you've got the Fire Nation, Water Tribe, and Earth Kingdom walking a tightrope because you snatched the plan mid-fall."
"And landed on my feet," Rivka shot back, "Azula could've taken the city outright. I made sure she didn't need to."
Pakku's tone shifted.
"If we start redefining how the North works with the Earth Kingdom politically, there's much to gain. Trade, recognition, security," He looked at Rivka, "We'll handle those talks. Quietly."
"Thank you," Rivka nodded.
"Just don't make a habit of dragging the whole team into history-making by accident," Ren muttered.
Rivka smiled, faint but real, "I'll shout over my shoulder next time."
Later, in a meeting room, Rivka and Azula sat opposite each other, strategists, opposites, and something sharper between.
"You're unusually quiet," Rivka said, eyes still on a report.
"I expected more noise about my uncle and brother," Azula said, placing her teacup down with a soft clink.
"No need," Rivka leaned back, "You want them back in the Fire Nation under your terms."
"And you don't?"
"Ozai would prefer Zuko under control rather than in exile, as for Iroh, he's only dangerous when he wants to be," Rivka sighed.
"Exactly. Frame their return correctly, and it's not a failure. Zuko will think he's earned favour. Uncle will keep his meddling to a minimum,' Azula smirked.
"And me?"
"That depends," She tilted her head, "If Father orders all three of you to return, will you?"
Rivka's gaze dropped to the map between them.
"He'll present it as political consolidation, but I think he knows my leash isn't short anymore. That and I don't know what I'd do if I weren't allowed back."
"Maybe not, but you'd be more manageable within reach."
Rivka laughed under his breath, "I'll make sure to tell him you said that."
"Do. He'll appreciate the sentiment."
A pause lulled the conversation as Rivka mused over his options.
"Fine," Rivka said, settling the last document aside, "Zuko and Iroh return. No exile. No charges. Just two people reclaiming their place."
His tone was calm, but something flickered beneath it, too layered to name.
"Iroh will find his rhythm again. He always does. Give him a quiet corner and some tea leaves, and he'll call it peace."
Azula rolled her eyes faintly but said nothing, letting the silence draw the next answer out of him.
"Zuko," Rivka hesitated, fingers tracing the rim of his cup, "Zuko will struggle. He wants to be stronger than he was, but he doesn't know how to do it without burning himself in the process."
"He doesn't know how to do anything. He still thinks Father's approval is some great reward. He doesn't realise it's a battlefield," Azula scoffed.
Rivka looked at her steadily, not sharply, "He knows. He just hasn't stopped hoping it might be something else."
"Which makes him a fool," she said coolly, "He's not built for Father's attention. He's too fragile. You know that."
"I know he's been hurt more than he ever deserved," Rivka said gently, "And I know he's still standing despite it."
Azula narrowed her eyes. "You still think Father will be different with him now?"
Rivka didn't answer right away. He took a slow breath, eyes drifting briefly toward the garden balcony as though searching for something in the moonlight.
"I think people change," he said finally, "I think even the ones who have every reason not to can still surprise you."
Azula tilted her head, intrigued despite herself, "And if he doesn't?"
Rivka's jaw tightened, but not in judgment. More in grief.
"Then I hope Zuko's grown enough to walk away before it becomes too much. I hope the Fire Lord sees that this is his last chance to be the father he should have been. And if either of them falter...."
He looked back at her, voice quiet but firm. He wasn't sure he should say what he was going to say, but he felt it needed to be heard.
"Then I'll be there. For both."
Azula stared at him for a beat, neither mocking nor amused, just assessing.
"You really believe that?"
"I have to," Rivka said, but didn't explain his thoughts.
She looked away then, lips pursing faintly as if she didn't want to be seen thinking too hard. Then, with practised ease, she reached for her teacup again.
"Well," she murmured, "Let's hope your optimism doesn't get you burned."
"I've been burned before. Didn't stop me from healing," Rivka smiled faintly.
...
The palace gardens offered rare peace. Golden afternoon light spilled across the courtyard, the air warm and still. Rivka watched Kuei struggle beneath a stack of papers larger than both his arms.
"I didn't realise ruling actually required ruling," the young king muttered, passing a thick scroll to Rivka with a groan.
Rivka skimmed it, amused, "This is a trade agreement with the Water Tribes, from fifty years ago. Might be a little outdated."
"Maybe Long Feng was doing me a favour," Kuei mumbled, rubbing his temples.
"I wouldn't go that far," Rivka tossed the scroll onto the 'irrelevant' pile, "At least you get a say in things now."
"Do kings get breaks?" Kuei slumped back.
Right on cue, Bosco let out a pleased huff and rolled onto his back in the sun.
"Bosco seems to think so," Rivka arched a brow.
Kuei looked from the papers to his bear, then decisively flopped onto the grass beside him.
"Very dignified," Rivka snorted.
"A wise ruler knows when to delegate," Kuei replied, eyes closed.
"To me, you mean."
"I am the king."
Bosco let out another satisfied sigh. Kuei grinned.
"If Bosco agrees, it must be the right decision."
Rivka laughed under his breath, "You're lucky I like you."
"I'll put that in my next decree."
Rivka later found himself tracking down Zuko and Iroh to speak about their return to the Fire Nation and pointedly ignored the fact that they'd made lives for themselves as what appeared to be refugees. Irony aside.
Rivka found them exactly where he expected, sitting in the back room of the Jasmine Dragon, a fresh pot of tea steaming between them. Iroh, ever the picture of contentment, beamed as soon as he saw Rivka, lifting the teapot as if already anticipating his answer.
"Ah! My dear friend, come in! You look like a man in need of tea."
Zuko tensed immediately, but Rivka merely sighed, pulling out a chair and sitting with a small huff.
"Always," he admitted, "Though you might want to add something stronger to yours before I tell you what I came for."
Iroh chuckled, pouring Rivka a cup anyway.
"Oh? Does this news of yours warrant alcohol in my tea?"
"That depends on how you feel about going home."
"What?" Zuko froze.
"The Fire Lord has ordered all of us back to the Fire Nation. No exile, no fugitives. You're returning as Prince Zuko," Rivka met his gaze steadily.
Silence.
The words sat between them, heavy with implications. Zuko's hands curled into fists on the table, but Iroh was watching Rivka with sharp, knowing eyes.
"And this is thanks to you, isn't it?" The old general mused, voice warm with amusement.
Rivka sighed, shaking his head, "Azula had her own reasons. It was either this or have you both quietly disappear, and I think she realised which one would keep her in control of the situation."
Iroh hummed approvingly, "Ah, my dear niece. Always thinking five steps ahead. But she wouldn't have made the offer if you weren't here, Rivka." He took a leisurely sip of tea.
"You are the reason Ba Sing Se hasn't already fallen. You are the reason she can afford to be merciful without looking weak. And, most importantly..." He leaned forward with a knowing glint in his eye, "You are the only reason the Fire Lord hasn't already declared absolute victory."
Rivka exhaled through his nose, "Don't start," he muttered.
Iroh grinned, "Oh, but I must! You, my friend, are in a very unique position." He gestured grandly, as though painting the scene before them.
"The great Fire Lord, ruthless and unwavering, forced to call back the one man who stands between him and true conquest."
Rivka scoffed, "He's not forced to do anything."
"Oh no, of course not," Iroh agreed easily, "He is merely... compelled. By fate. By politics. By a bond, even he cannot sever."
Zuko, still staring at the table, muttered bitterly, "So we're just supposed to go back and pretend none of this happened?"
Rivka turned his attention to the younger prince, his voice even but firm.
"No. You go back as people who've grown. You return as something stronger than you were when you left."
Zuko's jaw clenched, "Stronger, how?"
Rivka met his gaze, unwavering, "Stronger in the way that matters. Your father still sees you as someone to mould, to shape into what he wants. He wouldn't call you back if he thought you were useless. That means you still have a choice in who you become."
Zuko swallowed, looking away, but Rivka saw the conflict there, the struggle of a boy who had spent years trying to prove himself, only to realise he might not want to be the person his father demanded. Iroh reached out, patting Zuko's shoulder with gentle reassurance before turning his gaze back to Rivka, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"And you, my dear friend? What will you become?"
Rivka snorted, lifting his teacup, "A very, very tired man, probably."
Iroh let out a full, booming laugh, shaking his head.
"Oh, I think not! No, I believe you are about to become the most interesting person in the Fire Nation," He smiled, knowingly, "And perhaps the one man who can truly make my brother think."
Rivka sighed, rubbing his temple, "Spirits help me."
Iroh simply grinned, "Oh, they will, and so will I. I wouldn't miss this for the world."
...
A few weeks later, after early mornings and long nights, the atmosphere in the palace shifted with quiet urgency. Word of the Fire Nation's changing position had begun to stir behind closed doors. Still, Ba Sing Se had its own unfinished business. The throne room bustled with activity, the weight of transition settling over the city like an unshaken storm. Rivka sat lazily against the steps leading to the throne, rolling his shoulders as Kuei finalised his choices for the new council. The king had spent the better part of an hour debating with his advisors, both those who had returned to his side and those Rivka's team had put forward. He would finally solidify his long-term support system.
The moment Kuei spoke, the room quieted.
"I have made my selections."
The council members bowed in respect, and Kuei turned to Rivka with an expression that seemed both relieved and determined.
"You have done something no Fire Nation representative has ever done for Ba Sing Se," Kuei said, his voice carrying through the hall, "You did not conquer. You did not control. You helped me reclaim what was mine."
Rivka smirked, tilting his head, "The goal was to make sure you could keep it, not just get it back."
"And yet," Kuei continued, stepping forward, "You have given me something greater than a throne. You have given me the ability to wield my own power rather than have it wielded for me," He gave Rivka a small, knowing smile.
"You are the first Fire Nation diplomat I have ever trusted, and I think you will be the last."
Rivka snorted, rising to his feet. "If you ever need me, Your Majesty, the tides always return."
Kuei chuckled at that, clasping his hands behind his back, "Then let's hope they never do."
Then the long list of announcements began, something that reflected Rivka's time in the Fire Nation's court and his appearances before or with the Northern Water Tribe's council. Typical court establishment and proceedings. The poor kids with Aang looked bored, half asleep.
...
Some days later, it was getting close for everyone to leave Ba Sing Se and hope for the best. If it continued or fell, it was now outside of anyone's true control other than its people.
As the royal court reconvened, Rivka made his way to the outer gates where Appa waited, already saddled and gently swaying. Team Avatar lingered nearby, preparing to depart. The horizon behind them hinted at change, the wind brisk and laced with the scent of fresh stone and lifted burdens.
"You're not as scary as you pretend to be, Rivka," Aang said, arms crossed but smiling.
"Don't let that get around," Rivka smirked, "I have a reputation to keep."
Katara hesitated, glancing between Rivka and the city behind him.
"You could come with us, you know."
Rivka shook his head, "Tempting, but I still have an empire to balance before I leave it to fate."
"Try not to let the princess set everything on fire once you're gone," Toph added, adjusting her wrist wraps.
"Or at least make sure she's not laughing when she does it," Sokka tacked on.
Rivka laughed, a deep, genuine sound, "No promises."
Aang, standing on the edge of the group, frowned slightly, "Will you be okay?"
Rivka rolled his shoulders, exhaling through his nose.
"Not sure yet," he admitted, "But I'm not done fighting."
Aang nodded, "Then neither are we."
With that, the group climbed onto Appa's saddle. Aang gave one final wave before calling, "Yip-yip!" and in a gust of wind and dust, they were gone.
...
A few days later, the sun had begun to sink behind the walls of Ba Sing Se, casting long shadows across the ruined stone and golden rooftops. Rivka stood quietly at the edge of the city's outer walkways, where the wall met the wild. Azula, standing to his left, had her arms crossed as she studied the city's shifting tides with an unreadable expression.
"A shame, Rivka," she mused, not turning toward him, "You could have been a brilliant ally."
Rivka hummed, tucking his hands behind his back, "I still am, Azula. Just not in the way you want."
Azula finally turned, head tilting as though considering him from a new angle.
"Then it's a good thing Father will know how to handle you when you return."
"Let's hope he's as good at playing his hand as I am," Rivka smiled sarcastically, mirth in his eyes.
For the first time in the weeks they had fought this quiet, invisible war, Azula did not fire back immediately. Instead, she simply smirked and turned away, stepping lightly down the path.
The game wasn't over, but Rivka had ensured the board was set exactly as he wanted it.
Chapter 39: Towards the Horizon
Notes:
Tired but timely update, learning to teach is, funnily enough, challenging :)
*22.08.25
Chapter Text
Ba Sing Se had never felt so still.
Not in the way of peace, but in the way of something bracing itself before an inevitable shift. The city had survived its invasion, technically. The Fire Nation occupied it in name, but thanks to Rivka and his delegation, it had not been razed, nor wholly broken under Fire Nation rule. Instead, it remained in the hands of those who wished to see it recover.
Rivka stood at the palace gates, his team gathered before him. They had worked tirelessly for the past few weeks, laying the foundation for what was to come next. Now, it was time to leave it in the hands of those who would stay behind.
Pakku was the first to speak.
"This city will be walking a fine line for years to come," His arms were crossed, his face its usual hard mask, but there was something almost approving in his tone, "You've done as much as you can. The rest is out of your hands."
Rivka smirked faintly, "That was the goal. We came here to keep things from spiralling into destruction, not to rewrite the war."
Pakku gave a stiff nod, but beside him, Kuma sighed, her warm eyes scanning the group.
"Some of us will stay to make sure things don't fall apart overnight," She looked toward Malik and Narook, both of whom had made their decisions known earlier.
Malik adjusted the strap of his satchel, offering a tired but genuine smile, "The Earth Kingdom is my second home. If I can help keep communication open between the tribes and the resistance here, I will."
Narook, ever pragmatic, simply nodded, "There's still work to do."
Sira frowned, "I should stay too..."
Pakku shot her a look, "No. You're coming back with us. We need to report directly to the Chief. Ba Sing Se will hold without you."
She looked displeased, but relented. Kuma, however, gave Rivka a knowing smile, "And you?" she asked, "Will you be alright?"
Rivka let out a breath, glancing toward the city beyond the gates, "That depends on what happens next."
Behind him, the palace doors opened, and from within strode Kuei. His robes were lighter, simpler. Not the heavy, oppressive weight of an emperor pretending to be a king, but something more practical. More suited to someone learning how to be a ruler.
His expression was unreadable for a long moment, then suddenly, he closed the distance between them and pulled Rivka into a firm hug.
Rivka stiffened for a heartbeat before sighing and clasping the man's back in return.
"You're leaving," Kuei murmured.
"I have to."
Kuei pulled back, holding onto his shoulders, looking at him like he was trying to memorise his face, "You changed everything."
Rivka gave a half-smile, "So did you."
Kuei shook his head, "No. You stopped this city from falling completely. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even have a chance to stand back up," He exhaled sharply.
"I will make something of this, Rivka. I won't let your work be for nothing."
Rivka nodded once, solemnly, "Good. Because if you do, I will come back just to make your life miserable."
Kuei laughed, shaking his head, "I believe you."
A moment of silence stretched between them before Kuei finally stepped back, his gaze flickering to the rest of the group.
"Take care of yourselves."
With that, the parting began.
One by one, quiet goodbyes were exchanged, and Rivka and his remaining team slipped away from the palace, out into the underbelly of the city.
The tunnels beneath Ba Sing Se were dimly lit by torches, their flickering glow casting long shadows across the stone. Azula walked a step ahead of Rivka, her usual air of arrogance tempered by something more calculating. Their steps echoed against the cavern walls as the underground path stretched ahead.
"You're surprisingly quiet," Rivka commented.
Azula gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk.
"I was just considering the irony of all this."
Rivka lifted a brow, "Oh?"
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "You spent the past month ensuring Ba Sing Se didn't fall entirely to the Fire Nation, and yet, here you are leaving it with the Fire Nation."
Rivka huffed a laugh, "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, you'll have to try harder."
Azula shrugged, clearly unconcerned.
"I don't need to. You're already carrying more responsibility than anyone in your position should." She studied him, her smirk deepening, "You're either a fool or far too dangerous for your own good."
"Probably both," Rivka chuckled.
They reached the end of the tunnel. Waiting on the other side were Ren, Lin, and the rest of the Firebenders from his team, standing alongside Zuko and Iroh.
Iroh, as expected, beamed at them as they approached.
"Ah, excellent! You've returned just in time. We were beginning to wonder if we'd have to send a rescue party."
Rivka smirked, "And miss the chance to see your reunion with the Fire Nation? I wouldn't dream of it."
Zuko, standing stiffly at Iroh's side, looked between them before settling his gaze on Azula.
"So this is it?"
Azula tilted her head, expression unreadable, "Yes. We go home."
Zuko exhaled, something flickering across his face. Resignation? Acceptance?
Rivka gave Iroh a knowing look, "Are you ready for this?"
Iroh chuckled, adjusting the sleeves of his robes, "My dear Rivka, I have been ready for a great many things. But I must say, returning home in such a way with you in tow is not something I ever anticipated."
Rivka shook his head, smirking, "Neither did I."
Azula rolled her eyes, "Enough sentimentality. The ship won't wait forever."
Rivka cast one last glance toward the tunnels behind them. Ba Sing Se was behind him now, its fate out of his hands.
Now, the true challenge awaited.
With that, they stepped forward, leaving the city behind as they began their journey back to the Fire Nation. There were two ships, one for the Princess and her friends and one for "the rest of them". The ship cut through the waves like a knife, its crimson sails stretching high against the backdrop of an open sea. Rivka was somewhat tempted to speed the ship along, although he didn't know if he wanted to race back to the Fire Nation.
Rivka leaned against the railing, watching the dark blue stretch of sea ripple below, when a voice cut through his thoughts.
"You realise, of course, what this looks like?"
Rivka turned his head, meeting Ren's sharp gaze.
Ren stood beside him, arms crossed, his usual air of quiet amusement tinged with something more calculating. His dark eyes flicked toward the other ship trailing them, the one carrying Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai, before settling back on Rivka.
"You disappear for nearly two months," Ren continued, voice deceptively light, "And when you finally return, it's not just with a Fire Nation escort, but with members of the royal family in tow and an attack on Ba Sing Se curbed."
Rivka sighed, "Ren—"
Ren smirked, "Just saying. If I were a court noble, I'd assume you were either a traitor or of more worth to our nation than expected."
Rivka raised a brow, "I am a very important person."
Ren chuckled, "Yes, but now it's official."
Rivka huffed, turning back toward the ocean, "It's not that deep."
Ren made an amused noise in the back of his throat, but didn't press. Instead, his gaze flicked toward the deck, where the rest of the Firebenders in their group had gathered. Iroh was engaged in some animated conversation with a few crew members, likely charming them into letting him inspect the ship's tea stores. Zuko, meanwhile, stood near the helm, lost in whatever storm cloud thoughts occupied his mind these days.
It was strange, almost peaceful, if Rivka ignored the undercurrent of what comes next.+
Ren tilted his head toward Iroh, "At least you'll have some decent tea for the trip."
Rivka snorted, "Not if Iroh drinks it all before we reach the Fire Nation."
The first few days of the voyage were, at the very least, entertaining.
Between Iroh's relentless pursuit of better tea, Ren's quiet reminders of political optics, and Zuko's ongoing struggle with his brooding, Rivka found himself slipping into an unexpected routine.
The crew of the Sundering Tide, their ship, while initially wary of a Waterbender in their midst, quickly found that Rivka wasn't particularly concerned with stepping on their toes. In fact, within days, he had become an oddly stabilising presence. It helped that Iroh treated him like a long-lost brother, despite the implications.
"Rivka, my dear friend," Iroh called one afternoon, approaching him with the warm enthusiasm of a man on a mission, "I have been experimenting with a new brewing method, and I simply must have your opinion."
Rivka raised a brow, "You're being dragged by the royal family back to the Fire Nation, and somehow, tea quality is your biggest concern?"
Iroh beamed, "Priorities, my friend."
Ren, seated nearby, gave an exaggerated sigh.
"And yet, we are the ones dealing with the paperwork this will cause."
Rivka smirked, "Welcome to my life."
Meanwhile, Zuko had taken to avoiding most conversations that involved Azula, who, from their sister ship, seemed far too amused by his misery. On the rare occasions they did have to speak via messenger hawk, Azula's notes were painfully condescending.
Dear Brother,
I do hope the voyage is treating you well. Tell me, is the Waterbender enlightening you on the art of emotional restraint, or are you still committed to brooding yourself into a permanent scowl?
Do try not to embarrass yourself before we arrive. Father will have enough to handle without you sulking through the halls like a wounded mongoose-lizard.
With love,
Azula
Zuko had not taken it well.
Rivka, however, had laughed so hard he nearly choked on his tea. The reality of their return settled in as they neared the Fire Nation. Ozai had summoned them, not just Iroh and Zuko, but Rivka as well.
That alone was enough to shift the tone on the ship.
It wasn't a request. It wasn't a matter of protocol. It was deliberate, and for all of Ren's teasing, Rivka couldn't deny that there was a weight to this return.
For weeks, he had played the outsider, the anomaly, the Waterbender who had the Fire Lord's mark but remained untouched by Fire Nation rule. He had walked the line between two worlds, neither fully claimed nor fully exiled.
But this?
This was different. Rivka felt like he accidentally tipped the scales of that balance.
The ocean stretched before them, the faint silhouette of the Fire Nation rising on the horizon. The moment they stepped onto that shore, the game would change.
Rivka exhaled, tilting his head toward Ren.
"You were right," he admitted.
Ren raised a brow, "Oh?"
"This does look important."
Ren smirked, "Told you."
The Fire Nation's royal palace loomed in the twilight, its red and gold spires catching the last embers of sunlight. The air was thick with heat, scented with ash and the distant smoke of festival torches. Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was eerily silent.
Rivka walked at an even pace, flanked by Ren on one side and Iroh on the other. The hallways of the palace were polished, pristine, slightly familiar from his weeks within its halls.
No words were exchanged between them as the grand doors to the throne room opened, revealing Fire Lord Ozai seated upon the dais.
He did not rise. He did not acknowledge their entrance beyond a slow, measuring glance. Rivka's heart lurched for some stupid reason, and some of the weight he was feeling seemed to wash away. He hadn't realised there was an emotional load sitting there waiting to be back in front of Ozai.
At his right, Azula stood with perfect posture, her expression unreadable. The assembled council members lined the sides of the room, ready to bear witness.
A handful of other figures from Rivka's team were present as well, the Firebenders who had accompanied him on the mission to Ba Sing Se. A diplomatic necessity, Ren had been unusually quiet about it.
They reached the centre of the hall and stopped. The silence stretched. Then Ozai's voice, smooth and commanding, cut through the air.
"Begin."
There was no need to elaborate.
Azula spoke first.
Her tone was precise and professional. She gave a complete military and political overview of Ba Sing Se's fall and emphasised the Fire Nation's success.
She omitted nothing. The Dai Li, Long Feng's ultimate fate, and the tactical advantages gained. She did not waste time embellishing her role, nor did she diminish Rivka's. Her words were careful.
When she finished, she inclined her head. Next, one of the Firebenders from Rivka's team stepped forward.
Rivka listened in silence as they detailed his actions in Ba Sing Se, from meeting the Water Tribe members to the delicate maneuvering that had ensured Earth Kingdom resistance still existed despite Fire Nation control.
There was no outright defiance in their words, only truth, but it was clear to everyone in the room that Rivka's work had preserved the balance of power more than it had served the Fire Nation's conquest.
Ozai listened without expression.
When the reports concluded, he shifted his attention.
Iroh and Zuko's Fate. For the first time, Ozai spoke directly to them.
"Brother."
Iroh smiled warmly, unfazed, "Fire Lord."
"You have been absent for too long, and yet, I find no urgency in your return."
"I have been enjoying my travels," Iroh admitted, "And of course, ensuring that my dear nephew did not lose his way."
Zuko's shoulders tensed. Ozai's gaze flickered toward him.
"Your exile is over."
Zuko's breath caught.
"You may remain in the Fire Nation as Prince. But make no mistake, you return under my eye, not under your own merit."
Zuko's jaw clenched, but he bowed deeply, "...Thank you, Father."
Iroh hummed, still at ease, "And me?"
Ozai barely spared him a glance, "You will do as you please. You always have."
A pause. Then a flicker of something in Ozai's expression.
"Stay out of the way."
Iroh's smile didn't falter, but Rivka caught the briefest moment of sharpness in his eyes.
Then, at last, Ozai's gaze returned to Rivka.
Chapter 40: The Weight of a Report
Notes:
Another chapter :) Enjoy
30.08.25
Chapter Text
The throne room was too quiet.
Rivka had expected something different, perhaps a more blatant display of authority. Instead, Ozai had let him settle while the others spoke, made him wait just long enough to remember that this was still his domain, and then, without a word, they were the only two left in the room.
He stepped forward, posture easy, despite the weight of the moment. The doors shut behind him, sealing them in.
Ozai sat on the throne, composed as ever, but something in his gaze lingered, assessing. He had never been an easy man to read, but Rivka had spent enough nights at his side, watching him draft orders long into the night, to catch the subtle things: the shift of his fingers against the armrest, the measured stillness of his shoulders.
"Fire Lord Ozai," Rivka greeted, dipping his head just enough to acknowledge the authority in the room. He wasn't foolish. He knew how to play this game.
Ozai didn't reply immediately. His gaze dragged over Rivka, slow, searching, as if reacquainting himself with something familiar but no longer quite the same.
"When you left, I expected efficiency," Ozai finally said, voice as smooth as ever, "Perhaps some measured success. You were meant to be a diplomat, not a kingmaker."
Rivka let the words settle, unshaken, "And yet you let me go, knowing what I am."
A flicker of something sharp, something pleased, ghosted across Ozai's expression before it smoothed away.
"I underestimated you," Ozai admitted. He leaned forward, just slightly, "I do not make that mistake twice."
Rivka exhaled a slow breath, his own gaze unwavering.
"Good. Because if you expected me to come crawling back, you should know I still have sand in my boots from the underground walk out of Ba Sing Se."
That earned him something, not quite amusement, not quite irritation, but something close to both. Ozai leaned back again, steepling his fingers.
"You impressed me."
The words were even, but there was weight behind them.
"Not just in how you handled their King. Long Feng. The Dai Li. The war," A pause, "Tell me, Rivka, how much of yourself have you hidden from me?"
Rivka tilted his head, considering him, "Perhaps as much as you've hidden from me."
Something in the air tensed, the weight of an unspoken challenge. Ozai did not tolerate weakness, but neither did Rivka cower, and yet, this was not an argument.
It was something else.
Something precariously balanced between understanding and wariness, between two men who had spent long hours in each other's company and still did not fully know what the other was capable of.
Ozai let the silence stretch between them before he stood, descending the steps of the throne with deliberate ease. He stopped just short of Rivka, close enough that the heat from his presence was tangible.
"I want your reports," Ozai said, the command soft but unyielding, "But I want them from you first. Your words, not just what was written. I allowed you to play diplomat, now show me whether you have returned as your growing self, or if I let you go only to bring back a stranger."
Rivka held his gaze, pulse steady, and nodded, "Then I hope you're prepared for a long conversation."
Ozai studied him for another lingering moment, then, just barely, inclined his head. Ozai did not dismiss Rivka immediately. Instead, with a quiet order, he led him from the throne room into one of the side corridors, guards trailing behind them at a distance that was both respectful and unnecessary. Rivka knew what this meant. Ozai did not want an audience for this conversation.
He was being given a chance to explain himself.
The walk was silent, but it was not a tense silence. If anything, it was contemplative. Ozai had always been a man of restraint. Rivka had seen the way he wielded silence just as effectively as fire, knowing when words were a weapon and when withholding them was the sharper blade.
When they reached the Fire Lord's study, the doors shut behind them with a finality that left no doubt about how private this conversation would be. Ozai moved to his seat near the central desk, but he did not sit immediately. He stood, facing the grand window that overlooked the capital, hands clasped behind his back, gaze unreadable.
"Speak," he said, without turning around, "Tell me what you did, Rivka."
There was no hesitation in Rivka's voice when he began.
"I took the allies you allowed me. I let them see the Fire Nation through a lens that was not coated in blood or conquest." He moved toward one of the chairs but did not sit yet.
"I entered Ba Sing Se knowing it would fall, with or without me. That was inevitable as soon as I knew Azula was on her way," A pause, "But what was not inevitable was the Fire Nation keeping control of it after the fact."
That made Ozai finally turn.
He met Rivka's gaze, sharp and assessing, "Explain."
Rivka exhaled through his nose.
"Ba Sing Se is an empire within an empire. You do not just take it; you inherit it. The city swallows its rulers and spits them out. You know this. Your brother seems to have learnt this in the past," His voice did not waver, "Azula did not win Ba Sing Se through brute force. She won it through deception, and if I had not ensured that deception remained in place, if I had not managed the aftermath, the Fire Nation would have inherited a corpse of a city rather than an asset."
Ozai did not interrupt him.
So Rivka pressed on.
"The Earth Kingdom is fractured, but it is not weak. The war has made monsters of many men, and you have no shortage of enemies," His voice was even, measured.
"But you are not invincible. Your supply lines are stretched thin. Your men are not tireless. Your enemies do not simply lie down and die, and this war, if it continues like this, will consume the Fire Nation from the inside out before you ever burn your enemies to the ground."
A slow silence followed.
Ozai leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing.
"And what do you propose, diplomat?" His tone was edged with something unreadable.
Rivka allowed himself a small breath. This was the real conversation.
"You need an ending," he said simply.
"One that does not look like an ending. The Fire Nation does not lose Ba Sing Se. It simply... reorganises it. The Fire Nation did not lose the war. It simply ends it on its own terms."
He stepped forward now, holding Ozai's gaze.
"You hold the capital. That is your victory. The Earth Kingdom can tear itself apart over what happens next. You don't need to rule it. You need to manage it, and you need to start making repairs, because the Fire Nation is running ragged, and you are losing more than you gain every time you push further."
There. The boldest truth.
Ozai's expression did not shift immediately, but his gaze was no longer just assessing; it was considering.
Rivka let it settle before he spoke again, quieter this time.
"I have been on both sides long enough to see it from each side. War makes men mad. It makes them forget what they are fighting for. If this war drags on without direction, your people will turn to ruin before they ever see victory."
Ozai exhaled slowly, "You speak as though I am blind to this."
"I speak because I know you are not," Rivka's voice remained calm, "If you wanted the world to be ash, you would have already burned it."
Another silence.
Then, to Rivka's mild surprise, Ozai gave the smallest inclination of his head. No agreement. Not yet, but something close to acknowledgment. He stepped away from the window, moving toward the desk, finally taking his seat.
"You expect me to listen to this," Ozai's voice was quiet, but not dismissive, "To alter the course of a hundred years of war. To pull back."
"No," Rivka said plainly, "I expect you to see the truth of it."
A beat of silence. Then, finally...
"Sit, Rivka."
It was not a dismissal. It was an invitation.
As Rivka took the seat across from Ozai, he knew this was only the beginning of the real battle. Rivka leaned back slightly in his seat, but his posture remained poised. Across from him, Ozai folded his hands on the desk, his golden eyes still fixed on him in quiet scrutiny.
For the first time in months, Rivka felt the full weight of Ozai's attention, not just as an ally or a strategist, but as something deeper. This was not just about the war anymore.
It was about control.
And Rivka had spent the past months carefully unravelling the Fire Nation's grip on Ba Sing Se.
"You called Azula out," Ozai's voice was smooth, but there was a subtle edge to it.
"You undermined her in front of the Dai Li. You tried to outplay her."
Rivka did not flinch.
"She made a move," he said simply, "I countered."
Ozai tilted his head slightly, "And yet, Ba Sing Se still fell."
"Yes," Rivka did not deny it, "But it did not fall completely into her hands," A pause, "Or yours."
There it was. The truth between them.
Ozai exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the desk in a measured rhythm.
"You could have let her take the victory completely, and yet, you ensured that Kuei still has power. That the city is not fully Fire Nation-controlled."
Rivka met his gaze steadily, "Because that would have been a mistake."
Ozai's silence was not anger; it was calculation. Some high being must have wanted this conversation to be spoken for Rivka to admit to the Fire Lord that his actions are wrong and still be standing.
Rivka pressed on.
"If Azula had taken Ba Sing Se with no resistance, she would have shattered the balance of this war. You would have gained a city too large to hold, a resistance too bitter to quell, and an empire too broken to maintain. I mitigated that," His voice remained calm.
"And Azula knew it. She was not pleased, but she is not foolish. She allowed me to walk out of that city with my dignity intact because she recognised that I was the only reason it remained useful to you."
Ozai considered that for a long moment.
Then, to Rivka's mild surprise, he let out a soft exhale, not quite amusement, but close.
"She does have a temper," he admitted, leaning back slightly.
Rivka arched a brow, "And a thirst for power."
Ozai did not disagree.
There was something almost satisfied in his expression: "She will make a fine ruler one day."
Rivka tilted his head, "Will she?"
Ozai's gaze sharpened.
Rivka did not retreat, "Azula is ruthless, yes. She is cunning, and she understands power." He exhaled slightly.
"But power is not control, and control is not leadership. She has no patience for imperfection. She values strength above all else," He paused, "Even when it is not the kind of strength that lasts."
Ozai said nothing, but Rivka had spent weeks learning to read him.
For all that Ozai praised Azula, there was something about his expression, something assessing. No doubt, not yet, but observation.
Rivka did not push further.
Not yet.
Instead, he shifted the conversation.
"You also permitted Zuko and Iroh to return," He watched Ozai carefully, "With titles intact."
Ozai exhaled slowly, looking away for the first time in the conversation. He gazed out the window, as if measuring the horizon.
"Zuko has spent years trying to prove himself," he said at last, "And he has spent just as long failing."
Rivka waited.
Ozai's voice remained even, "Azula manipulated him. That much is clear. He is easy to sway, too desperate for approval to think for himself."
A slow pause.
"But that makes him useful. He has done what I exiled him to do. He has found the Avatar but failed to capture him. There is room for growth," His fingers tapped against the desk again, "And that means I can shape him properly this time."
Rivka resisted the urge to frown.
"You still have expectations of him."
"Of course," Ozai said smoothly, "I have use for him."
It was not a lie.
But it was not the full truth, either. Ozai could have discarded Zuko. It could have humiliated him further. Could have refused his return entirely. Instead, he was bringing him back into the fold.
And Iroh.
"And your brother?" Rivka prompted.
Ozai's face did not change.
"Iroh is an old man playing at wisdom," he said dismissively, "He was never suited for the throne. He has lost the drive that made him strong."
He paused.
"But he has no ambitions left. He does not scheme against me. That makes him irrelevant."
Rivka hummed slightly, "And yet, you let him return."
Ozai's eyes flickered to him.
"Do you think me so petty that I would kill my own brother over something so trivial?"
"No, Rivka held his gaze, "But I think you want to see what he does next."
A slow exhale. Then, the barest tilt of Ozai's head.
Not confirmation. But not denial. Rivka let the silence settle. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his hands against the desk.
"You have the Fire Nation in your hands, Ozai. You have the war poised at its climax."
His voice was quiet but firm.
"And now you have your children back under your roof. Your brother is beneath your watch," Rivka paused to articulate himself, "What you do with them now is what determines the legacy you leave behind."
Ozai considered him carefully.
"I know exactly what to do with them."
His voice was steady, sure, and Rivka knew the real battle was only just beginning.
Chapter 41: The Quiet Reckoning
Notes:
Hi. I am SO sick posting thissss. If there's any mistakes I can't see properly out of one eye so I can't edit properly. Good luck, have fun.
06.09.25
Chapter Text
The halls of the Fire Nation palace were quieter at night, though not silent. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows against the polished walls, the distant sound of the ocean barely audible past the thick stone.
Rivka walked without speaking, his mind occupied, his thoughts tangled.
The attendant who led him to his room moved with quiet efficiency, offering no words beyond a brief, respectful bow as he slid the door open. The chamber was just as he had left it, stark but warm, the scent of smoked cedar and the faintest trace of incense still lingering in the air.
Familiar.
He had spent weeks here. Had learned its layout, had adjusted to its temperature, and had grown accustomed to the way the light filtered through the curtains in the morning.
And yet, as the door slid shut behind him, he felt the weight of his return settle fully on his shoulders.
He was back. For better or worse.
Rivka exhaled slowly, undoing the heavy outer layers of his robes and rolling his shoulders. His muscles ached from the journey, though it was a dull, manageable exhaustion-the kind that pressed against the edges of his thoughts but would not consume him.
His fingers drifted absently to his chest, where the soul mark sat square in the middle of his chest, pulsing. It was not burning, not flaring with emotion, but he could feel it. A quiet presence. A tether.
Ozai had been composed during their conversation, but his emotions had not been entirely concealed.
He had felt the sharp flicker of his irritation at Rivka's interference in Ba Sing Se. The keen interest was when he had spoken of the city's precarious balance. The brief, measured satisfaction when Rivka had acknowledged Azula's cunning, followed swiftly by something else, something more complicated, when Rivka had questioned her ability to rule.
And beneath all of it, a steady, controlled tension.
A wariness.
Ozai was watching him. Measuring him.
They had spent months learning each other's movements, adapting to each other's presence. They had worked side by side, exchanging strategy and insight, pushing and challenging in a way neither had experienced before.
And now, Rivka had returned with his pieces placed carefully on the board.
Ozai was not angry.
He was assessing.
Rivka let out a quiet sigh, pressing a hand over his eyes.
This was what he had wanted.
To come back to the Fire Nation not as a prisoner, not as a tool, but as something that could change things. He had spent his time in the Earth Kingdom, ensuring that there was something left to change.
And now?
Now, he was back in the Fire Lord's den, playing a game with a man who trusted no one yet had allowed him to come this close.
Rivka exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair.
He needed to be careful.
Not because he feared Ozai, not in the way others did, but because they were both moving toward something that neither had fully named. And the closer they got, the more dangerous it became. The war was reaching its climax.
And so was this.
Whatever this was.
Rivka lay back against the sheets, the warmth of the Fire Nation pressing against his skin. His body ached, but his thoughts still turned in slow, careful circles.
Eventually, sleep came, and the mark on his chest stayed warm against his heart.
Rivka woke to the sensation of warmth pressing against his skin, the natural heat of the Fire Nation, thick in the air even in the morning hours. The light filtering through the curtains was dim but growing brighter, the soft glow casting long, flickering shapes across the ceiling.
He had slept. Not deeply, not fully, but enough.
For a moment, he remained still, eyes half-lidded as he let his senses reacquaint themselves with his surroundings. The scent of charred wood and incense. The distant, rhythmic crash of the ocean against the cliffs. The muffled movements of attendants beyond the hall, going about their morning duties.
And beneath it all, the quiet pulse of his soulmark.
Not insistent, not demanding, just there. A lingering presence in his chest, warm and steady.
His fingers drifted to it absently, tracing the shape through his undershirt.
Ozai was awake.
The realisation settled in his mind with the ease of certainty. There was no fire behind the sensation, no sharp spike of emotion, but Rivka could feel it; his soulmate was alert, focused, already engaged in something, and knowing Ozai, it was likely something important.
With a quiet exhale, Rivka sat up, rolling his shoulders as the stiffness from travel and tension worked itself free. He did not doubt that today would be... eventful.
The Fire Nation did not sit idly.
Neither did its ruler.
Rivka dressed with practised efficiency, donning lighter robes than the formal wear of yesterday. Deep navy, trimmed in silver, not overtly Fire Nation in style, but not not Fire Nation either. It was a delicate balance, one he had learned to navigate.
By the time he stepped into the hall, an attendant was already waiting, bowing low before gesturing toward the corridor.
"The Fire Lord has requested your presence in the council chamber, Master Rivka," the attendant informed him smoothly. "Breakfast will be provided there."
Rivka arched a brow, "I take it I don't have time for a slow morning, then."
The attendant, well-trained and unreadable, simply bowed again.
"Of course not," Rivka sighed.
Still, he followed without argument. As they walked through the palace corridors, he noted the subtle shifts in the atmosphere. The guards stood at attention, but their gazes lingered a fraction longer than usual. The attendants moved with quiet efficiency, but there was an underlying tension to the way they carried themselves.
Something was stirring, and as Rivka stepped into the council chamber, he found out exactly what.
Ozai sat at the head of the long council table, posture regal and commanding as always. His golden armour was absent, replaced by the more practical layers of deep red and black robes, his hair still bound in its sharp, high tail.
Azula sat to his right, poised and composed, her expression carefully neutral. Mai was there as well, leaning back slightly in her chair, fingers idly spinning a dagger. Ty Lee is notably absent.
To the left of the Fire Lord sat several high-ranking ministers, their faces lined with age and experience.
And, of course, Iroh and Zuko.
Iroh sat with an ease that defied the tension in the room, hands folded in front of him, expression unreadable but observant. Zuko, by contrast, sat stiffly, his posture locked into something almost rigidly formal. He had been given back his title and his place, but the uncertainty in his shoulders told Rivka he was stilln't sure what that meant.
All of them turned as he entered.
Ozai's gaze swept over him, assessing, calculating, before he gestured toward an open seat.
"Sit," the Fire Lord commanded.
Rivka inclined his head and did so, eyes flicking toward the food already placed at each seat. A proper meal, roasted duck, rice, steamed greens, and spiced tea.
It was a move. A silent message. This was a discussion, not an interrogation.
Rivka took a sip of his tea before speaking, "I take it something interesting has happened?"
Azula's lips twitched, "You could say that."
Ozai set down the parchment in his hand, fingers tapping once against the surface.
"The Earth Kingdom has begun moving," he stated, voice measured. "Kuei is not as powerless as he once seemed. The resistance is organising, and certain key strongholds have become... less compliant."
Rivka wasn't surprised. He had ensured as much before he left.
Still, he feigned mild curiosity, "And?"
Ozai's eyes burned with something unreadable.
"And I have no doubt you are aware of this."
The room was silent for a beat. Then, Rivka smiled slightly, setting his tea down.
"I did tell you I had no intention of letting the Fire Nation rule over rubble."
One of the ministers bristled, lips parting as if to object, but Ozai held up a single hand, silencing him.
"Explain," the Fire Lord ordered.
Rivka leaned forward slightly.
"The resistance is not foolish enough to believe they can overturn the Fire Nation overnight. But they are ready to reclaim control of their lands. That means making it too costly for you to continue on the same path."
Ozai's gaze narrowed, "You wish to test my patience."
"I wish to give you the chance to decide what victory looks like," Rivka corrected, "Not what it once looked like, what it needs to be now."
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, a quiet chuckle.
Iroh. He took a slow sip of his tea, eyes twinkling with something like amusement.
"It seems the war is not the only thing changing."
Rivka glanced at him, then back at Ozai.
The Fire Lord did not look amused. But neither did he look angry.
He was thinking. Calculating.
Rivka could feel the shift in his soulmark, an almost imperceptible hum, something threading between curiosity and measured restraint.
Finally, Ozai leaned back, fingers steepling.
"I assume you have a proposal."
Rivka exhaled slowly. There it is. The opening move. He met Ozai's gaze head-on and allowed himself to push for the first time since returning.
"To win," Rivka said evenly, "You must define the end of this war before someone else does."
The Fire Lord said nothing at first.
Then, slowly, so very slowly, he smirked.
And just like that, the second game began.
Ba Sing Se had been chaos wrapped in silk. But the Fire Nation court—this was fire sealed in gold. Ornate, immovable, and watching everything.
Rivka stood beneath the domed ceiling of the royal hall, surrounded by Fire Nation elite. He recognised the moment's weight; not just for him, but for Ozai, who sat on the throne above, composed and silent. Rivka had missed him, though he'd never admit it out loud. Being apart had a strange way of sharpening the shape of their bond.
But now wasn't the time for sentiment.
Ozai had been hearing reports for nearly an hour. Generals listing out victories in clipped tones: forward outposts seized, uprisings in Omashu quelled, new coal routes secured. Casualties were noted, but glossed over. It all sounded efficient. Clean, but Rivka knew the blood soaked deeper than they let on.
Eventually, the reports shifted. The court turned its attention toward Ba Sing Se. Toward him.
A general leaned forward, arms folded behind his back.
"The Earth King entertained multiple private audiences with Rivka. It's unclear what was said, but the city's tone shifted. Their diplomats are... cautious now. Cooperative, even."
Another, older and more suspicious added, "I wonder what was traded for that cooperation."
Rivka resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but his voice came smooth and calm.
"I offered them peace. Even told them I'd slit my own throat for it, if that's what they needed to hear."
He let the silence that followed settle like smoke.
"They didn't believe me either, if that helps."
The room rippled with discomfort, though Ozai's expression remained still. Azula arched a brow from her position nearby.
"So dramatic," she said, lips curving into a knowing smirk, "And here I thought you had a talent for survival."
Rivka looked at her, meeting her gaze evenly.
"Survival's only worth something if you've got something left to live for."
That quieted her, though her amusement didn't fade.
Ozai finally spoke, his voice filling the room with its usual smooth weight.
"You walked into the heart of our oldest enemy, negotiated with their king, and came back without a scratch. That alone demands explanation."
Rivka shifted his stance, more thoughtful than defensive. He wasn't hiding anything. He didn't need to.
"I told them the truth," he said.
He felt the pause stretch across the room like a held breath, so he kept going.
"That we're winning battles, but not the war. That their city's falling in on itself, whether we push or not. That it's not our strength that will decide the outcome, but how much longer their people are willing to suffer before someone pulls the plug."
He glanced at the more uncomfortable faces around the chamber.
"I told them that even if they resist every advance, they still lose. And if we win, we'll lose something too. No one walks away from this whole."
The murmurs began then. Uncomfortable. Conflicted. Some of the older council members wanted to rebuke him, but none dared speak out first.
Then Ozai leaned forward.
"And what do you believe, Rivka? Truly. Do you believe the Fire Nation is heading for ruin?"
Rivka didn't look away. He didn't flinch. But he did soften.
"I think war makes good men forget themselves. Even the ones who were never cruel to start with."
He hesitated because this was Ozai. Not just the Fire Lord, but the man he shared a mark with. The man who continued this war and ruled with a cold, calculating precision.
"I think if we don't change direction," Rivka said more gently now, "It won't be just the world that gets burned, it'll be us too."
The court was still.
Rivka could feel eyes boring into his spine, but he didn't care. He wasn't here to kneel. He was here to speak the truth, and he hadn't come all this way to bite his tongue when it mattered.
Ozai watched him for a long time, and Rivka saw it, the subtle flicker behind his eyes. No doubt, but recognition. This wasn't defiance. It wasn't a rebellion. It was Rivka doing exactly what he always did: speaking the hard truths that no one else would. For the Fire Nation. For the world. For him.
Ozai didn't speak again. Instead, he turned toward the generals and said coolly that military strategy would continue in private.
It wasn't approval, but it wasn't dismissal either, and that was enough.
Rivka inclined his head once more, respectfully, and stepped back. Azula said nothing, but the glint in her eye was sharper than before. She'd heard what he said. Understood what he meant.
As the court dispersed, Rivka passed her near the steps. She didn't look at him, but he heard her mutter beneath her breath, low and silken:
"You should be careful. Father may like you now, but he won't let you steal his court."
Rivka paused beside her, his tone even.
"I'm not here to steal anything."
He walked on.
What neither of them said, what everyone felt, was this: Rivka wasn't just a Water Tribesman in Fire Nation red.
He was a storm on the horizon.
And Ozai? He wasn't letting that storm go anywhere.
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