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Chapter Text

Yue stood upon the highest bridge in the city, eyes straining against the noon sun and teeth clenched in an effort not to bite her lip. Curled up in the hood of her parka, Pilo let out a disgruntled cheep.

“Sorry, girl,” Yue murmured, shifting slightly so her dark hair better draped over the hood’s opening, blocking the sunlight. “I know you like to take your nap inside, but this is important.” Slightly mollified, her pet settled once more, a reassuring warmth pressing between Yue’s shoulder blades.

She’d dreamed again, the night before, of a moon and sky on fire, smoke rising from the ocean waves. As always, the images faded to the face of a concerned old man, who tried to call her name in the instant before the girl awoke. She didn’t bother to inform her father of the latest dream - he never did anything but dismiss them as fantasies inspired by tidings of war from the rest of the world, the nightmares of a child.

But Yue knew they meant more.

Her Tribe held no written archives she could sneak into, but the girl still eavesdropped on the shamans every chance she got, both around the palace halls and on the cliffs above their enclave’s entrance, set deep within the glacier itself. Most recently, she’d found herself lingering in the Spirit Oasis, and managed to catch a slip of conversation between an elder and novice:

“But surely the Chief must know-”

“Enough. Those of us on the Council may advise him, but in the end it is his decision alone what course of action we take.”

“But the spirits, the warnings-!”

“I said enough.”

The novice fell silent, and followed his teacher back out of the oasis. Yue, sitting so still she very well could’ve been frozen in place, felt dead certain the conversation had to do with the war.

The one soon to arrive on their very doorstep.

So, when the usual date of their annual guest’s arrival came, she went to the palace’s courtyard to wait. And wait. And wait further still. One day after another, and still the sky remained clear. Her father clearly shared Yue’s concern over the delay, but chose not to show it, instead ordering that city life proceed as usual and that the princess return to her duties rather than linger in the courtyard.

Which was why Yue took to waiting on the bridge instead.

And finally, the day after her most concerning dream yet, three weeks past the usual date, a sky bison appeared from over the horizon.

Their usual guest did not come alone.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Mom,” the young woman protested, “There are only three Southern waterbenders left, and both the elders left to fight! If she stays down there, alone and untrained, and the Fire Nation sends another raid-”

“Then she can hide, as we have done for decades.” The two of them stood upon one of the higher cliffs overlooking their current valley sanctuary, a handful of trees and tents dotting the ground, the last sky bison herd ambling around to graze. “It is too dangerous, Jaya.”

“For who? I’ve been making this journey for years, Mom, carrying an extra couple of passengers is hardly going to slow me down.”

“He’s too young.”

“He’s started making trips into villages on his own.” Her mother’s jaw clenched, and Jaya pressed the advantage. “You were younger when Grandfather first took you on a visit to Omashu.”

“That was different. A mere month, in a world still better off than this one. You have no certainty as to how long this journey would take, nor what extra dangers may arise - how would you explain to your uncle if something happens to his little boy, when he could have stayed with us? Stayed safe?”

Jaya took a deep breath and let it out slowly, causing the fallen leaves around them to stir and dance. “The Fire Nation advances steadily every year now, Mom. Can we truly say that anywhere is still safe?”

She still remembered flying over Ba Sing Se during the siege, the horror she felt at seeing an army marching towards the city proper, far from the boundary of the Outer Wall. The safest city in the world, about to fall to the Dragon of the West - would have fallen, if Jaya hadn’t revealed herself and intervened.

Her mother also took a deep breath, but released it in a sharp gust, blowing all the leaves away entirely. “...you will take a crate of lemming-jays with you, and write to us at least every two weeks.”

Beaming, Jaya jumped forward to hug her, and then leapt off the edge of the cliff. Bursts of wind controlled the fall until she landed lightly on the valley floor, and bounded towards the nearest cluster of trees, where her youngest cousin dangled upside down with his pet lemur. “Jaya! What did she say?”

“Pack your bag, Aang, we’re heading out!”

Three strangers descended from the sky bison along with Nomad Jaya, and Yue stilled as she studied them. One, clearly, had to be another of Jaya’s family members, wearing the same style of plain clothing with tied sleeves and large wraps that could become concealing hoods in a pinch. But the other two- Yue would say they were members of her tribe, except for the subtle color differences of their dyed parkas, and of course the fact they’d arrived with a pair of airbenders. Pilo picked up on her confusion, and poked her nose out into the open, chittering over Yue’s shoulder.

The younger airbender apparently somehow managed to hear the soft sound, as he turned in their direction curiously. His face lit up when he spotted Pilo, and the boy immediately bounded over with a small creature of his own flying after. “Hi! I’m Aang! Is that a snowy fox-owl?”

Yue smiled in spite of herself, and rolled her shoulder to encourage her pet to clamber all the way out into the open. “Yes; her name’s Piloqutinnguaq, but you can call her Pilo.”

“Oh wow,” Aang breathed as Pilo’s full body came into view, “She’s a two-tail! I’ve only seen two-tailed falcon-foxes in the mountains before - where’d you find her?”

“On my bedroom balcony, years ago. There was a bad storm, and she was still just a kit, too young to fly; I think an adult must’ve left her there for shelter, but they never came back to claim her again.”

“Aww,” the boy cooed, offering a half-curled fist for Pilo to sniff. Balanced on his own shoulder, a curious lemur chittered, ears twitching. Pilo chuffed in reply, and allowed Aang to stroke her downy chest feathers.

Commotion across the courtyard drew their attention away from the animals, to where the unknown Water Tribe girl was glaring up at Master Pakku, hands on her hips, Nomad Jaya looking pained as she tried to mediate. Further aside, the other new boy stood with Yue’s father, watching the argument with a furrowed brow.

Her father, on the other hand, gazed in Yue’s direction.

He looked worried.

Chapter Text

He’d been twenty-four years old when he returned from war for the last time.

Twenty-four, a newly made orphan, a wounded soldier incapable of standing on his own, a disgraced commander who hadn’t been able to rally the troops following his father’s (disappearance) death.

Crown Prince, for a matter of mere hours, before the missive arrived bearing news of his grandfather’s death and his uncle becoming the new Fire Lord.

Not until he reached his nation’s shores did Lu Ten also hear about his aunt vanishing the same night Azulon passed away, the night before Ozai received a polished crown in his topknot. It was the final pai sho tile on the board, the last tick of a tumbler’s lock for him to understand.

When Lu Ten found himself before the Fire Lord’s throne, he knew all too well that his choices were to kneel or die. So, despite the continued stiffness of his healing muscle and bone, despite the raging, crying, grieving fire in his heart, the twenty-four year old made himself get down on bended knee.

He later thought to himself that Ozai seemed almost disappointed.

Lu Ten was newly turned twenty-five and finally (mostly) recovered when he took over his cousin’s training and lessons.

“It’s tradition that the former heir passes on the important stuff to the next,” he said with a teasing grin, Zuko tucked against his side by the turtle-duck pond Aunt Ursa so loved. “And that’s technically what we’re still doing, even though it’s really meant to be parent to child.”

Ozai made a point of making sure Lu Ten knew he was watched at all hours; servants who lingered a little too long in his chambers, guards who shifted slightly as he walked by. And because of that, the young man didn’t doubt there were plans in store for his cousin, because if the Fire Lord truly considered Zuko his heir, Lu Ten wouldn’t be allowed nearly so much close personal contact. As it was, he pretty much only saw Azula at meals and royal functions, or on the rare occasion she still deigned to ‘play’ with her brother.

So. He oversaw which tutors taught Zuko his history and strategy lessons, the calligraphy and numerical practice, court etiquette and diplomacy. They spent a couple hours every day firebending, followed by sword combat and strengthening exercises. Despite being hindered by his stiff leg and bamboo cane, Lu Ten watched with sharp eyes, led by example when possible. He did what he could to hammer home the importance of basics, of knowing a move so instinctively that no time needed to be wasted thinking it through during a fight. Sometimes, he knew, his cousin felt impatient to move on and try the advanced techniques Azula added more of to her repertoire every day, but Lu Ten only ever needed to recount another battlefield example of a basic trick saving his life to get the kid back on track.

And still, they always made time to sit by the turtle-duck pond.

Being allowed in the Fire Lord’s war meetings always felt a bit of a joke to Lu Ten; the disgraced royal, no longer in the line of succession, never promoted past a minor command position and yet given opportunity to voice an occasional tidbit of advice to grey-haired generals and an uncle that discounted his opinion regardless.

He thought letting Zuko in to join him would be a good eye-opener for the kid, and present an opportunity to commiserate later.

A mistake.

Every bedroom in the royal family’s wing of the palace contained at least one secret entrance, all of them connected by twisting, booby-trapped tunnels that led down into the catacombs beneath the Caldera. Not every family member knew about them; the passages would be perfect for conducting assassinations, after all, so traditionally, the Fire Lord only revealed the secret while on their deathbed to the heir.

Lu Ten never did figure out how his father knew about the passages, long before Azulon’s passing, but he thanked Agni that Iroh saw fit to share the knowledge with his teenage self. The look on Ozai’s face alone when he entered his innermost private chamber to find Lu Ten leaning against the bed made the entire awkward ordeal of getting inside worth it. “You’re going to have him killed, aren’t you.”

To his credit, Ozai merely glared. No side-stepping by asking who or what do you mean, no diversion through demanding how did you get in here. He glared, and strode towards his wardrobe, and flicked a dismissive hand. “You provided an ideal opportunity.”

Lu Ten clenched his jaw so hard he nearly cracked a tooth. “Counteroffer. Let me leave with him, tonight. We’ll disappear like your wife, never to bother you again.”

His uncle scoffed at that. “And allow you to go seek out dissidents who think they should intervene with matters of succession? I think not.”

“Just Zuko, then. Send him somewhere out of the way, declare Azula the new Crown Princess.”

“Are you truly suggesting I banish my own son, nephew?” Ozai sounded amused. “I thought he was your favorite.”

Lu Ten didn’t dare let himself move, because overreaching in his anger would be the quickest path towards his own execution. “I’d prefer banishment over death, if we’re talking about my never seeing him again.”

“Mm.” For a few minutes, Ozai went about disrobing and donning his sleep garments, not paying his main political rival the slightest bit of attention. Perhaps it was the cane, resting pointedly at Lu Ten’s side; maybe he just thought the younger man had truly become weak and toothless in his two years since returning from war.

Not for the first or last time, Lu Ten wished desperately for his father’s help.

“...no,” the Fire Lord finally pronounced. “No, my son has offered insult within my own throne room, and fighting an Agni Kai is his only way forward. It would be an even graver dishonor for him to vanish in the night like a skulking rogue. But I do appreciate you seeking me out to voice your thoughts, nephew; perhaps we will discuss them again after the duel tomorrow.”

He remained in place for a few moments longer despite the obvious dismissal, just to prove he could. Then Lu Ten picked up his cane, and slowly stalked out of his uncle’s chambers.

(Not even halfway down the hall, and he could hear the sounds of furniture being shifted so Ozai could search for the secret entrance; it made him smile grimly.)

Lu Ten was twenty-six years old when he watched his uncle burn a child’s face for refusing to fight.

He’d been twenty-five when he swore to ensure said child survived the machinations of their remaining family members.

He was a mere twenty-four when an airbender saved him from assassination outside the gates of Ba Sing Se, only for her to turn around and end his father’s life.

Chapter Text

An excerpt from the text Sozin’s Legacy: On the Origins of Wind Hunts

It is known that the start of our current War began with the return of Sozin’s Comet, formerly known as the Great Comet, which passes through the heavens no more than once a century. With its power amplifying that of our nation’s firebenders, Sozin led his armies in a brutal day-long campaign, carefully timed to eliminate the Air Warrior threat in all four of their strongholds around the world. Some few members of the enemy nation escaped, as could be expected, but census information seized in the aftermath gave the Firelord an accurate count from which to begin the first Wind Hunts, a series of engagements meant to track down the remaining airbenders.

All except the Avatar.

Though he scoured the world for many years after the start of the war, Sozin never managed to discover or capture the greatest remaining threat to our nation. It is theorized that the Avatar must have found a truly desolate hiding place far removed from any trace of civilization - an idea seemingly supported by the location of his first sighting, nearly two decades later.

But first, a reminder of better known history.

Firelord Sozin in his prime sired three sons - the firstborn Kazan, the second heir Izir, and his eventual successor, Azulon.

As befitting his position as Crown Prince, Kazan learned the ways of combat and warfare above all other schools, and as a young man led the assault on the Air Warrior’s easternmost stronghold. He then spearheaded our nation’s push into the crumbling edges of the Earth Kingdom, where the return of authority and economic profit were sorely needed. Truly, many believed Kazan would prove just as great a Firelord as his mighty father - but it was not to be. In battle against Earth Kingdom soldiers, Kazan fell from a lucky strike; his death ignited a fury that carried his troops to victory that day, but the entire army suffered an air of demoralization in the following months.

At home, the secondborn son Izir found himself to be the new Crown Prince, expected to look after his nation while Firelord Sozin dedicated more and more time to his hunt for the Avatar. An extravagant patron of playwrights and poets, Izir dedicated his efforts to spreading the story of our great nation, our goal to unite the world under one banner, to bring peace and proper strength to all corners. To celebrate his daughter’s third birthday as well as bring the new Colonies further in line with the Fire Nation, Izir decided to tour the claimed territory along the continent’s coastline, personally paying for numerous bands of performers to accompany his party to better inspire awe in the eyes of the colonists.

Unfortunately, the trip ended in disaster, and for the second time in a year the Fire Nation lost a rising leader. Assassins from the Southern Water Tribe struck during a public firebending dance, and Izir died from a poisoned wound before his bodyguards could so much as stem the bleeding.

In the wake of this tragedy, Azulon stepped into the role of Crown Prince, becoming a sorely needed anchor for our devastated nation and the aged Firelord Sozin alike. First and foremost, he proposed a multi-stage plan to besiege the Southern savages and strip them of any true power, both as the next logical step of the War and as an act of retribution for the cowardly attack upon his brother.

The people of the Fire Nation agreed, and rallied, and soon enough numerous fleets set sail for the South Pole. Sozin himself led from the helm of the flagship, greatly aged but still a formidable warrior in his own right.

And thus it was that the man who bested the Air Warriors finally came face to face with his final enemy: the Avatar.

Clearly, his years in hiding had been dedicated to serious study, as his mastery over air and water proved a devastating combination against the Fire Navy. Entire ships sank without a single survivor; others were ripped to pieces, and into the waves of wreckage Southern Tribesmen sailed, murdering any they found struggling in the water.

Firelord Sozin himself did not survive the battle, likely perishing at the hands of the Avatar, though a much weakened messenger from his flagship successfully escaped back to friendly waters, conveying our beloved leader’s final words to his family and people: to keep the home fires burning, and from them forge the tools to reshape the world, the weapons to defeat all our nation’s enemies.

At the bottom of the scroll, a different hand than that of the author wrote, Intriguing how the archivist detailed all three of Sozin’s sons, but not his daughter.

Another, more delicate script added below it, Nor any mention of what happened to Izir’s child following his demise. Surely not all historical texts are so obvious in their propaganda?

Sadly, this is entirely normal; perhaps even bland by the standards of some fervent chroniclers.

Spirits preserve us.

Neither notation bore a signature, but in the leftmost corner, one of the additional authors painted the small image of a lotus blossom, enclosed by a thin circle.

The scroll was but one of several unrolled across a large table; some treatises, some plays, a few announcements and wanted posters. The one thing all bore in common were extra notes added in the margins; never anything overt, or so blatant as to mention names, but alike in theme and intent. Some handwriting styles repeated; others appeared but once.

All marked by a circled lotus blossom.

Alone off to one side, a thin sheet of scrap parchment sat unfolded, the old creases still clear to see. It too bore a lotus in the corner, along with the scrawled message:

Otter-penguin,

I finally found her. You were right; I should have checked Ember Island first. Kid was hiding in plain sight with a performance troupe. We’ll be on Whale Tail by the new moon; please send someone before then, or I’ll be forced to barter for passage like a common peasant.

Oh, and remind your boyfriend, my offer to be his firebending teacher still stands, once that rock-candy lunatic is finished pummeling him with boulders.

-Dragonbird

“Otter-penguin?”

Busy preparing a pot of tea, the owner of the collected documents hummed. “The last Avatar’s wife. She was a good friend; helped me feel safe even so far removed from my home. I’ve heard her granddaughter turned out to have a quite similar disposition.”

“The airbender who attacked at Ba Sing Se,” her guest rumbled, wary.

“The airbender who defended Ba Sing Se. Surely you can set aside your own wounded pride long enough to realize the perfection of her chosen tactic - literally blowing away the command staff, so that no more orders could flow down to the remaining ranks. A lone woman cannot defeat an army, but she could remove the head.”

Another discontent rumble.

Smirking to herself, the old woman set out two cups and began to pour. “You’ll find that the handful of airbenders left in this age are little alike to their predecessors; only the oldest of them bears the tattoos of her heritage, and her sons conduct themselves as warriors, not pacifists.”

“The Windwalker attacks along the frontlines.”

“Indeed. Their sister at least pretends at being a true Air Nomad, travelling with correspondence and intelligence reports, but even she will strike with a waterbender’s sense of practicality when necessary.” She slid over a single steaming cup. “Supposedly, there’s a baby of the family who’s begun to take flight with her, but I don’t know much about him yet. And of course, the last Avatar’s non-bender son adopted many war orphans over the years - several of whom then went back out to work their way into key positions on both sides of the battlefield. If you think for a moment that they operate on the old Nomad tenets of living peacefully and doing no harm, then you’d be sorely mistaken.”

They each took a few moments to silently drink, and contemplate. Few remained among the upper ranks of the Fire Nation who could appreciate the worth of a bit of time set aside for tea - she remained grateful her guest did so.

Eventually, he spoke again. “They have a right to their anger. At us. At the Fire Nation.”

“Mm. Except, it’s not anger, really. It’s grief. An ache for what they lost, for what they never had a chance to know. I never knew the old Avatar to raise his voice, no matter the situation; but he cried often, and freely, when something came along to remind him of his lost people.” She leaned forward over the table then, to knock a knuckle against the back of her guest’s hand. “And other lost people, too. You think he didn’t know, when he let surrendered soldiers live, that their own countrymen were like as not to execute them for forfeiting to the enemy?”

“Then why not simply kill them himself, and spare them the dishonor?”

“Because to him, to kill an outmatched opponent was dishonor. He was forced to set aside his pacifism as a child, to learn the ways of war and combat, of death. But he never believed a killing blow to be the answer, especially not against someone who didn’t have a snowball’s chance in the desert of defeating him.”

Her guest fell silent again at that, and she set about gathering up the documents to return them to their sealed cases and folders. “...I think I would have liked to know the Airbender Avatar.”

She smiled. “He’d have liked you. Maybe not as much as he liked me, but close.” A startled bark of laughter made her chuckle in victory. “Now then, finish your tea before it gets cold, because we have a long night’s work ahead of us.”

Chapter Text

Yue waited until after the evening meal to seek out the Southern girl, Katara, with a tentative offer. Thankfully, she’d been involved in making the arrangements for additional guest rooms, and so knew which door to go knock upon, more anxious than usual without Pilo’s reassuring weight against her back.

To her surprise, the other girl answered the door already dressed to go out. “Oh!” Katara exclaimed, equally startled. “You’re not- uh, sorry. What can I do for you, Princess?”

“Well, you can call me by my name, to start,” Yue said with a small smile. “And then I wondered if you’d be willing to take a walk with me?”

Katara lifted one eyebrow curiously, and agreed fairly quickly. Soon enough the two girls were out and down by the palace gates, slipping through a gap in the guard patrols Yue had long made use of. Only once assured they wouldn’t be caught by any disapproving adults did the princess slow her pace and explain. “I know Master Pakku refused to teach you any waterbending, and all the other masters are following his example - but, would you still be interested in learning from another student?”

“Yes,” Katara instantly replied, eyes gleaming.

“You don’t even know who yet,” Yue laughed.

“I don’t care, anything is better than not learning at all.”

So, Yue led her down to the edge of the molded city, where a scowling young man grumbled to himself as he struggled to strike a spark for his lantern. “Hahn!”

“About time,” the other Northerner huffed, before turning to face them. He abruptly froze upon spotting Katara, a complicated mix of expressions twisting up his face. “Oh no. No, no no no, I am not teaching another girl - Yue, are you trying to set me up to land on Master Pakku’s eternal bad side?!”

She put on her sweetest smile, summoned her most innocent tone of voice, and stepped right up into his personal space. ”Hahn. I’ve said before that I want to ensure our future together is productive and beneficial for the tribe. But if you don’t teach Katara some waterbending, I will make our marriage a living nightmare for you. Understand?”

Her husband-to-be’s face twisted further still, and he took a prudent step back. “Fine. Fine! But she better be able to keep up, I’m not babying either of you out here.”

Katara promptly scoffed, and slid into a practiced warrior’s stance. “We’ll see who can’t keep up, jerk.” A warning glance from Yue kept her from saying anything further, as Hahn took a minute to finish getting all the grumbling out of his system and actually begin the lesson.

For nearly a year, Yue had been bullying him into teaching her a wider range of waterbending beyond what her father would allow - a year in which the princess also made a point of surreptitiously observing classes instructed by Pakku and other masters, just to make sure Hahn wasn’t holding back. In all honesty, his lessons were mostly an excuse to show off what techniques he’d already mastered, but Yue still managed to pick up a lot, and at a faster rate than four out of five students she observed in the training courtyards.

Katara picked up the techniques even quicker.

Her basics were practiced to the point of instinct, and Hahn barely needed to demonstrate a more expert move two or three times before Katara could perform it just as smoothly. Her speed increased with confidence, too, whereas Yue was of a slower temperament, focused on precision before anything else.

“That’s all well and good behind nice thick walls,” Katara remarked, when the very point came up, “But out in the open, when you’re actually facing the enemy? Firebenders, pirates, they don’t wait for you to pull off a perfect form - hitting fast and moving quickly are the best ways to avoid a sword or fireball to the face.”

Hahn of course scoffed. “You really expect us to believe you have faced firebenders?”

The Southern girl took her cue from Yue’s example, and got up right in his face to deliver her scathing reply. “I realize you get to hide away from the war up here, Hahn, but we’ve never had that luxury back home. The Fire Nation raids whenever they want, and if we’re lucky they just do it as a scare tactic, and leave after trashing our homes without killing or kidnapping anyone, like they did to my family, my mother. So yeah, I’ve been face to face with firebenders, and that was even before travelling across the world to get here, where a bunch of men behind a wall try to insist it’s not a woman’s place to fight.”

For the first time in all the years she’d known him, Yue witnessed Hahn back down without another word.

“You’re, absolutely certain you want to wait another week before we set sail, Admiral?”

“Yes, Captain. The plans for this invasion have been very carefully laid out - we’ll leave with just enough of a buffer in case of foul weather, but that’s all.”

“Of course, sir, it’s just-”

“Just, what?”

“...we’re really going to attack on the full moon?”

The Admiral looked out across the deck, across the many, MANY decks of his assembled fleet. “Don’t worry, Captain. It’s all in hand.”

After their lesson finished and the girls parted ways from Hahn, Yue led Katara on a wide loop back around to the palace. She grew slightly careless, however, after so long without getting caught, and someone spotted them returning.

Thankfully, that someone was Katara’s brother.

“Where in the world have you been?” Sokka hissed, glancing over both shoulders before glaring at his sister. “I thought the plan was to meet at your room?!”

“The plan changed,” Katara shrugged. “Turns out we didn’t need to go persuade anyone - Yue’s already got a secret waterbending teacher, and he’s willing to give me lessons too. Well, after she threatened him, anyway.”

Sokka looked a little like someone had just conked him over the head with a spear, but at least he waited to demand more details until the three of them were back inside the palace and safely tucked away in Katara’s guest room. Yue only quietly explained about pestering the boy she was betrothed to into sharing some of his waterbending techniques over the past year, and then let Katara take over delightedly highlighting all the things she’d learned in just a few hours of instruction. Sokka, though, kept looking in Yue’s direction with the same little confusing expression, and she unexpectedly found her face growing warm.

“Well, I really need to be returning to my chambers soon,” the princess eventually spoke up. “Same time tomorrow night, Katara?”

“Absolutely!”

“Do you want one of us to walk with you?” Sokka piped up, already stepping towards the door.

“Thank you, but no - I’ve been sneaking around the palace for years, it’s easier without guiding someone else.” Even so, she smiled at him for offering, and Sokka returned the expression. He really was quite handsome, Yue mused to herself as she slipped out into the hall, unaware of the calculating squint Katara aimed at her back.

“Zhao’s going to make his move in a few days - if we want to get an agent aboard his flagship, it needs to be soon.”

“Do we know what his ultimate target is yet?”

“No; something the Northern Tribe has been protecting, but beyond that the man’s been frustratingly tight-lipped. Supposedly getting ahold of it will give him an advantage over the waterbenders, or else even that egomaniac wouldn’t dare attack during the full moon.”

Her companion hummed, looking over their map once more; a line of red markers stretching along nearly half of the continent’s coastline, versus a single dark blue token placed at the edge of the ice sheet to the north. “The airbender’s party did arrive though, yes?”

“Indeed. Apparently the Southern Tribe members are making a bit of a splash.”

The man chuckled, and reached to place two additional tokens on either side of the fortress city: pale blue and bright yellow.

They were able to get in another two nights of practicing in secret before Aang tagged along to watch, bringing Pilo and Momo, who managed to descend into a loud screeching mock-fight, and one thing lead to another with guards shouting and everyone yelling until they reached the end result of Katara battling Master Pakku himself for the right to be taught.

She didn’t win the fight itself, but secured victory nonetheless thanks to a small necklace. Yue wanted to feel glad for her, truly, but the princess needed to focus on the more immediate concern of her father’s apoplectic fury.

“How long,” he demanded, icy gaze darting between her and Hahn and back again.

“I’m sorry, Chief, I never should have-”

“How. Long.”

“Since the engagement announcement,” Yue muttered.

Her father let out a low hiss. “Thousands of years of tradition, and for what? So you could claim to be better than the other women of our tribe? To put yourself in harm’s way, thinking you can fight others?!”

Yue took a deep breath before answering, feeling the frozen strength of the ice around her, the indomitable power of the ocean currents far below. “To better understand my future husband, at first - to understand our warriors, and the dangers they face. We cannot remain out of the war’s path forever, Father, and when it comes I need to know all of our strengths and weaknesses.”

“It is not your place,” her father gritted out, hands clenched and shaking. “You are meant to stay safe, to be the symbol of hope for our tribe’s future! That does not include putting yourself at risk to learn how men fight-!”

“Are you serious right now?”

All three of them turned to look at Sokka, who’d crossed his arms and settled into a belligerent glare at Yue’s father.

“Yeah, look, I get it, we’ve all got our own ways of doing things,” the boy went on, “But when the Fire Nation shows up, everybody is responsible for protecting themselves. Back home our warriors go out front to fight them, but the women are still responsible for getting the kids and elders to safety, responsible for protecting them. Our mom died fighting off a firebender to protect Katara when we were little - and maybe you can argue she shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place, but there wasn’t anyone else, and if she’d been taught to fight like our dad maybe she would have won and come out alive.”

Her heart ached at the pain in Sokka’s voice as he spoke, but her mind focused clearer than the purest ice at the way her father flinched, as if he’d been struck. Yue breathed, and the water all around hummed in response.

Then, appearing out of nowhere, Nomad Jaya swept right into taking charge of the confrontation. “Chief, I think this would be an appropriate time for everyone to pause, perhaps get some sleep before continuing. It’s been a long night for all of us, after all.” Abruptly aware of the deep circles beneath the young woman’s eyes, Yue winced - the elder airbender must have been frantic upon learning her cousin was missing from the palace. Aang trailed after her, likewise shame-faced.

Her father’s hands trembled once more before he clenched them shut. “Of course. In the morning, then.” He turned to beckon the nearest guards over, and delivered orders in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “You three, escort my daughter back to her chambers, and keep watch over the door until my summons. And you, ensure Hahn returns directly to his father’s home, and informs him of everything that transpired tonight.”

Already wilted, Yue’s husband-to-be slumped even further. She didn’t really have it in her to feel terribly sorry for him - a trace amount of guilt, certainly, for Hahn would not escape punishment and chastisement from his family.

But as she left the throne room behind, it was Sokka that Yue glanced back at one last time, rather than Hahn.

Chapter Text

For the first time in years, Lu Ten managed to find himself a way out of the stifling atmosphere of Caldera City and its Royal Court. Granted, the way involved becoming attached as an observer to possibly the creepiest officer in the whole Fire Navy, but he’d take what he could get.

“Ah, Your Highness,” Admiral Zhao greeted him, when Lu Ten limped his way onto the bridge shortly after dawn on their third day at sea. “My lookouts spotted the first icebergs not long ago; the glacial cliffs should be visible on the horizon by day’s end.”

“An impressive wall in their own right, I’m sure,” Lu Ten said dryly. He saw the older man’s mouth twitch at the allusion to Ba Sing Se’s more impressive defenses, and wondered how long they’d go before a not so subtle barb at his father came up.

Verbally sparring with Zhao at least kept him occupied until the breakfast gong, at which point Lu Ten could retreat to his assigned room and pretend to wallow in self-pity for the rest of the day. It was an impression that served him well at the Caldera, and so far seemed to work just as easily in the reduced setting of a single battleship.

In reality, Lu Ten had personal exercises to go through, both mental and physical to keep himself as in-shape as possible, followed by carefully coded messages written in an ink so faint one needed a flame’s heat to be able to see them. The kitchen staff who delivered his midday meal and then returned for the empty dishes often whisked away said messages without ever realizing, serving as unwitting couriers to the lone woman Lu Ten trusted among their ranks. She then passed along the seemingly blank parchment scraps to any of a handful of others within the fleet, who could send off the dispatches or find ways to answer Lu Ten’s requests for further information.

In three days, he’d learned all the exact details of troop numbers and armaments that Zhao didn’t want to share, along with the concerningly small amounts of food and stored fuel compared to extra prison cells in the lowest levels of all battleships.

Clearly, the good Admiral didn’t expect his siege to take long, but did plan on taking quite a few prisoners back with him.

Lu Ten couldn’t say he liked the implications at all.

The ship went down.

Ambushed while attempting to reach the Southern Air Temple, apparently; even still recovering from his grievous injury, Lu Ten’s cousin was genuinely trying to find some clue as to where the last Avatar’s descendants had hidden themselves away. And he died for it, miles and miles of empty ocean away from where Lu Ten could have protected him.

He avoided Ozai for months afterward. The man almost certainly saw it as a secondary victory.

But he didn’t see the secret notes slipped in and out of the palace, and that was all Lu Ten really needed.

That night, after sunset, as Lu Ten worked through his final few stretches before falling into bed, he received a visitor.

The door creaked open, and one hand immediately shot out for the knife always kept close at hand. He might not have actually dealt with any would-be assassins since the failed attempt at Ba Sing Se, but never let it be said Lu Ten didn’t prepare for them.

The figure who slid into his chamber didn’t wield any weapon of their own, however. Lu Ten stilled at the sight of a pai sho tile, the white lotus, held up like a shield before the guard wearing ill-fitting armor. “The dragonbird calls...”

“And the volcano answers.” Lu Ten set his knife back down with a huff. “You sure took a chance, sneaking in here. Katsuko didn’t tell me there were any other agents aboard.”

“I just transferred over today from another ship,” the stranger replied, voice muffled by their helmet’s faceplate. “...how are you?”

Blinking, Lu Ten gave his visitor a sidelong look. Normally, the spies and secret couriers he interacted with didn’t ask such a question; their work took precedence over any individual’s well-being. “I’m well enough. I’d be doing better if I could figure out Zhao’s endgame for this invasion.”

The mystery agent shrugged, and something about the gesture niggled at the back of Lu Ten’s mind. “He wants to hit the waterbenders where it hurts.”

“I’m going to need more in the way of actual details if I’m going to stop him,” the young man replied dryly. “Don’t suppose you’ve been posted to work anywhere near the upper officers quarters, have you?”

“No. Mostly midnight patrols on the lower decks.”

Yeah, that tracked. The best way to get transferred between Fire Navy vessels, especially upward transfers to bigger and shinier ships, was to lean into being willing to take on the dullest and dreariest of work assignments upon one’s arrival. The staff sergeants never minded getting fresh meat to handle the worst tasks, after all, and it tended to improve morale in the soldiers already stationed aboard when they no longer needed to handle such things.

Still. Would’ve been awfully convenient if his new ally had gotten assigned to a patrol that, oh, for example, took him past Zhao’s quarters in the middle of the day, when they’d be empty and ripe for snooping. But- no. Better an unobtrusive, out of the way post, where fewer interactions with others meant a better chance of avoiding suspicion. Lu Ten couldn’t fault that tactic, considering he’d been living it for the past five years, even if their current situation felt dire enough to call for haste over caution.

Any back-up was better than none at all.

“Okay. Sit tight for now; if you stumble across anything worth reporting you can bring it here, but otherwise wait for Katsuko to pass along my orders from the kitchen. Do you have any sabotage experience?”

The agent nodded. “I sank my first ship when I was thirteen.”

...that sounded a little young, but Lu Ten tried to avoid casting judgment on any of the people he worked with. War made soldiers out of children very quickly, after all. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but make sure you have at least two escape routes ready just in case. I’m carrying a purple flare with me at all times; if you see it go off at any point, get yourself out first, and worry about the mission second.”

“What about you?” That really deserved a skeptical look, because all agents of the White Lotus knew their order of priorities when things went wrong: stay alive, keep moving, watch for others who might have also made it out as a secondary matter. “I know you don’t swim anymore; if this ship goes down and you aren’t on another, you’ll drown.”

Lu Ten just- stared. He could count on one hand all the people aware of how much it hurt just for him to tread water, let alone properly swim-

Wait.

His visitor reached up to tug off their helmet, and just like that, Lu Ten felt as if he were drowning already. “Zuko?”

The teenager shuffled a little awkwardly. “Um. Hi.”

A strangled laugh clawed its way out of Lu Ten’s throat; he lurched forward to grab his baby cousin in a hug. “You little weasel-fox, what are you doing here?”

Zuko hugged back, after setting aside his helmet. “I heard you were going with the invasion fleet- and the others at the tea shop said the Grand Lotus wanted a few more volunteers to infiltrate it, so-”

“I ought to strangle your handlers,” Lu Ten grumbled, squeezing tighter. The whole point of making sure his cousin got taken in by a Lotus cell far removed from the war’s bigger battlefields was so Zuko could avoid getting dragged into conflict. But here he stood! On a Fire Navy flagship! About to attack the Northern Water Tribe!

...on a Fire Navy ship, about to attack the Water Tribe on the night of a full moon- with! As a bonus! One of the few Admirals who would definitely not hesitate to throw Zuko into a cell or outright execute him for treason if the kid got caught!

“Scratch that, I ought to strangle you,” Lu Ten said in a hiss, pushing back to grasp Zuko’s shoulders and give him a shake. But then he paused, and looked the teen up and down. “Did you get taller than me?”

To his credit, Zuko instantly slumped in place. “No?”

“You did-” Delight and dismay and half a dozen other emotions all tangled together, and the best Lu Ten could do was let loose a hysterical laugh, shaking his cousin again, before pulling the boy into a second tight embrace.

The ship went down.

And two weeks later, Lu Ten finally received a coded message confirming that Zuko was alive, healing in the care of a White Lotus cell tucked on the edge of the Fire Colonies. He allowed himself to exchange a few more notes, detailing careful instructions on how the boy was to be looked after, what sorts of training he would need to survive outside royal life, then cut off contact.

Safer if he didn’t know exactly where Zuko was, or what he could do. Safer if the wounded thirteen year old didn’t risk giving away his position to agents of the Fire Lord by sending him letters, like he’d done when their positions were reversed - Zuko living in the Caldera, Lu Ten off in the Earth Kingdom.

Safer for both of them to try and stop thinking of the other too much.

A pair of cousins sat opposite one another, studying the massive map stretched out across the table between them. All the most recent missives regarding movements of their allies and agents lined the edge; each token representing a different key player accordingly adjusted.

In theory, the invasion fleet approaching the North Pole would not succeed.

But then, in theory, the Dragon of the West should have conquered Ba Sing Se, too.

The wizened old woman finally broke their silence, thumping a frustrated fist against the tabletop, causing ripples in both their cups of tea. “No one can say for certain what trick Zhao’s got up his sleeve?”

Her companion hummed grimly, eyeing the largest red token that stood for the ambitious Admiral’s flagship. “None of the reports indicate otherwise. Not even the boys.” After a moment, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “The Northern Lotus has been informed of their presence?”

“Yes. It’s by no means a guarantee, but if things go badly for the fleet, Pakku knows to look for them.” The normally pragmatic woman paused, expression softening ever so slightly. “It was not my idea for both of them to be up there.”

The man could only shrug, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Destiny does not seem interested in our personal plans and ideas.”

“Still.”

“Do not let yourself waver, cousin - you are the Grand Lotus, yes, but even the power of that position cannot affect how fast a messenger hawk flies, or whether secret orders reach their intended destinations before headstrong young men go forward into danger.”

“...you did a decent job, with your boy, for what it’s worth. And he managed to keep the younger one from descending into dishonor, for a few years there.” Her companion swallowed, but did not reply. “Well. I think we both need a break from staring at this mess- come on, we’ll see what the inn down the road is serving for dinner tonight.”

“Now that sounds like a worthy plan of action.”