Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m sick.

That thought sparked a spiral. It was something she wasn’t allowed to feel, an emotion she had buried when Zuko had announced it for her and bound her in cloth instead of chains. It was suffocating. A vice grip on her chi that strangled her, crushed her, devoured her. And she had to fight it. Had to push this rogue thought out because it wasn’t who she was at all.

No.

She had felt this before. A flicker. A brief in and out of rationality when she had looked in that mirror years ago. Hair chopped, uneven, splintered. Outfit in complete disarray. Her annoying, weak brother knocking on her door with that water peasant, shouting for an Agni Kai.  

The fear raged in her, and she vomited again. Her body convulsed, staggeringly weak. She heaved whatever scrap of lunch she managed to find in the small village and kept going and going until she was left with nothing but clear bile. Her throat was raw, acidic. She half-imagined what it would be like to breathe fire right now and what her nickname would be.

Dragon of Shit Villages? Of Vomit? Of Almost Perfect?

She gripped the walls of the narrow outhouse. Her head spun, but there were no hallucinations today. “Could use a few words of encouragement.” Her voice was gravel. “You never gave me this much attention as a child.” The words dripped easily, reflexively, and Azula steeled herself for the presence of her mother. Her brow lifted. “No contradiction today? Fine.” She stumbled back, brown robe slipping over to cover her chest as she hobbled out of the outhouse and back towards her box of a room.

Their plans had been solid, full, complete. She was a master strategist. The execution would need to be flawless, but she would be able to embed two of her Kemurikage with Zuko’s council quite easily and then from there…

She keeled over, vomiting again in the open air. Her throat felt as if it were bleeding, and Azula wiped at her mouth, too weak to care that it was still morning light. That she had been throwing up on and off for three hours and it wasn’t getting any better.

Those traitors.

She placed her hands on her knees, back arching as the nausea rolled through her again. Sweat crowned her forehead, and Azula would have laughed if her lungs weren’t on fire. Another spasm raked through her, and Azula was flat on her back, head turned to the side as bile and blood pooled from her mouth. The sun was high, and it baked her in the small green patch between the outhouse and the inn. Sekitan Village was small, not even noted on most of the Fire Lord’s maps. But somehow, they found her.

Fuck.

She spat the remaining blood and looked at the sun. Her bending waned, untouchable in her limp body, chi flickering in and out like a fading heartbeat. A snuffed candle’s flame.

I can’t die.

Not now.

No.

Her long nails scratched through the grass, digging themselves in the dirt. Her energy sputtered, and her innate warmth left her suddenly, smoothly, a veil removed from her body as the world turned to all coldness and black. She lost all feeling by the time her head impacted the ground.

“I want you to find her.”

There was something in the air maybe. Or in his breakfast. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering how long he took to process this batshit-crazy information. Yeah,it must have been breakfast--those scones did taste a little off--and it was the only true explanation, the only plausible reason why his friend presented him with such a ridiculous statement.

Statement.

Damn, he really made it seem like a command.

And a past command at that. Like this preposterous and straight-up dumb idea was actually real? And that it wasn’t some sick, cactus-juice induced hallucination. Or some drunken dream. Maybe he should have just pinched himself because it was a task only nightmare worthy. 

“Can you repeat that?” His tongue was thick as he spoke, and Zuko definitely noticed. The Fire Lord would—to anyone else—be intimidating on his dais. There was quite literally a curtain of flames behind him, tall and red-hot, and he was dressed in all gold and red and looked incredibly composed and un-Zuko-like. Sokka wiped at his brow and stole a glance at Suki to the Fire Lord’s right. The warrior shrugged and stood straighter, as if Zuko had somehow noticed her brief break in stance. Years later and it was still too weird seeing her here, face paint heavy with not a hint of sweat. Maybe the Earth Kingdom wasn’t so different from the Fire Nation as he originally thought.

Sokka pushed away a bloom of revulsion. “Why?” He didn’t think his tone could match his displeasure, but Zuko’s normally stoic face shifted.

“I need her in our custody.” Zuko fidgeted with the long sleeves of his robes. He was never good at hiding his emotions, even with five years of being a literal king under his belt.

That wasn’t the answer Sokka expected. There had always been a weakness with Zuko when it came to Azula, even after the several kidnappings and assassination attempts. Zuko, for Spirits know why, had given up on holding the princess accountable for her crimes despite everyone’s urgings and Sokka’s (sometimes) drunken outbursts in his personal chambers. Azula hadn’t been seen by anyone for years, and quite frankly, Sokka preferred it that way. He figured most people did. 

There was really only a single way Sokka could rationalize this decision. “Custody as in arrested? About time.”

“Sokka…”

He turned to Suki who broke away from her position at Zuko’s right hand. The action would seem abnormal to anyone outside the small circle of the Avatar’s companions, and luckily the Fire Lord’s throne room was empty besides them, Ty Lee, and that crazy fire wall that was really starting to make him sweat. It was a newer addition to the chamber—usually Zuko settled for an array of candles—and Sokka couldn’t help but think it was meant to spark some intimidation.

It was sort of working.

“What, Suki? I’m not in the minority here. The Fire Nation wants her in jail. So does the Earth Kingdom. And the colonies. And as the representative for the Southern Water…”

“We get it.” Suki held up a gloved hand. She moved to wipe it over her face, remembered her face paint, and went stiff straight. “And if it helps at all, I’m not incredibly in love with this plan either.”

“Does this even constitute a plan?”

“As things stand, Princess Azula is my heir.” Zuko let the title fall heavily in the large room. “Have you looked deeply into Fire Nation law, Councilman Sokka?”

“Ah, well, as you know, the whole council thing is pretty temporary, and to be honest, I’m still working on establishing formalized laws for the Southern Water Tribe. Haven’t really gotten around to it yet.”

Zuko rubbed his forehead, clearly frustrated, but strangely not from Sokka. Though young, Zuko was starting to show the weariness that typically came with being a powerful political figure. His cheeks seemed hollow and pale, even within the glamour of firelight. The one good side of his face had a distinct pallor Sokka hadn’t seen since they first locked Ozai away. “It’s complicated and archaic to say the least.”

Sokka’s eyes met Suki’s briefly. It was easy to call everything and everyone in the Fire Nation that, but he held back the witticism and let Zuko continue. “If I were to die tomorrow, Azula would be Fire Lord. The crown needs to be passed to one with royal blood if they are still alive.”

“What about Iroh?” Sokka crossed his arms. Surely, they had already considered him, but it was still worth a check.

“Disinherited.” Zuko practically growled. “And in the current environment, impossible to reinstate. My father is also forbidden to be reinstated, but Azula has not been formally convicted of any crime.”

“So, disinherit her in the meantime. I don’t know about you guys but relying on just me to capture her isn’t the best plan.” His eyes shifted to Ty Lee. “Can she come?”

The young woman lit up. “Sokka, I would lo…”

“No.” Suki bit out, tone acerbic. “The palace is on high alert. We need all the Kyoshi Warriors on site.”

A shiver of…of something shot through him. Anger? Jealousy? It was weird nevertheless, and Sokka found himself staring at his feet and not his ex-girlfriend. The room had gone quiet besides the crackle of flames, but Sokka squirmed, as if there were a sudden chill creeping through the palace’s walls. The boomerang on his back was starting to feel too, too heavy. “So, she’s your heir. The members of your council are being idiots reinstating Iroh or anyone else, and for some reason you can’t disinherit her?”

“She needs to be properly evaluated,” Zuko crossed his arms. “Legally her mental health is perfect.”

He felt his blue eyes widen. “There’s no way that’s…”

“A year after the war, I released her from Ash Island’s asylum in order to imprison her next to our father.” Zuko waved the memory away. “Papers needed to be signed and…”

“He basically certified her good health. We’d need to recommit her and have her properly examined by a doctor again in order to take her off the Fire Lord list.” Suki flexed her gloved hands. Her white makeup creased on her forehead, and Sokka could easily recognize the stress on her face. The warrior was tense, posture frozen, face almost—almost—unreadable if it weren’t for their years of dating.

“Or have her convicted.”

Her face lightened at Sokka’s suggestion. Suki seemed to exhale for the first time in hours as she nodded. “Or have her convicted.”

Zuko turned grim. He stood from his seat on the dais, and both Suki and Ty Lee placed their right hands on their fans, prepared to follow the Fire Lord down and out of the throne room. Now that was intimidating. Maybe I finally crossed the line. Sokka—who had been attacked by more firebenders than he could count—remained stolid as Zuko walked towards him, tall and incredibly firelord-y. He stopped his descent and raised a hand to Sokka’s shoulder covered with snow-white fur. “I won’t let her inherit. I promise you that.”

“Asylum or jail.” Sokka mouthed the words. They were easy for him to feel, to say, but his friend’s face was all anguish. His eyebrow quirked. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Sokka’s mind drifted briefly to Katara, but he shook it away. How could he even begin to draw a comparison between the two younger sisters? “Then wanna walk me through why you’re only sending me?”

The first thing that hit her was the smell or, more specifically, how she didn’t. She couldn’t afford a hot bath for months—ever since she had left the capital—and the shock of clean hair and skin and clothes had her stiff in the featherbed. The cool washcloth fell forward from her forehead down into her lap, and Azula fumbled back from the sudden jerk of her body. Her breathing hitched, throat still prickling from the vomit.

I should burn that inn to the ground.

She would. As soon as she was able to move from this damn bed, she would go back to that inn and set every inch of it ablaze. She would watch it burn, all blistering wood and skin, the soft remains of the building shimmering in embers, like coals in a hearth. Azula turned to her side and coughed. Bile spilled loosely from her lips, a biting trickle, before she hoisted herself upright and rested her back on the headboard. She couldn’t choke now. She couldn’t die now. Not when there were so many people she needed to hurt first.

With her head reclined, she started to take in the room around her and was immediately surprised to recognize the clover border outlining the ceiling. It matched her box of a room at the inn. The lighted chandelier was too fancy, however, to simply be another guest room. The innkeeper then. The realization had her take back all thoughts of arson. She was clean, bathed. Her long black hair was braided down her back, and she found herself in a too-big white nightgown, tucked into bed like a little, precious girl.

She itched to run. She had to get out of here—far, far away from the Fire Nation entirely. The cotton sheets were rough on her pale skin, and Azula kicked them off with sudden anger and strength. The pillow covered with her bile was thrown to the floor, and her head spun from the minimal effort. She craved food. Needed water.

The door opened, no knock or turn of key, and a short, young man with black hair and eyes came through. He held a glass of water and a piece of bread and seemed entirely too happy with himself. His face was angular, beard short and pointed. A true Fire Nation citizen. Azula swallowed the rush of bile as he asked, “How are you feeling?”

His smile was crooked and attractive, though Azula couldn’t remember the last time she had ever considered anyone as such. She dismissed it even now and turned her attention to the food in his hand and the velvet robes he wore in a rich, rich vermillion dye. “Better.” She did not need to fake the creak in her voice. “I’m assuming you are my savior?”

A blush. Her eyebrows hitched, and she folded her arms crossly over her breasts. He averted his gaze from her. “I…I…found you if that’s what you mean. My sister’s the one who’s been nursing you.” He stood by her bedside, face glowing and eager and making Azula want to heave again.

“Then I thank you both. Allow me to offer…” She hesitated. What was she going to say? A royal declaration? A frivolous gift? Some national acknowledgement? Azula bit her lip. She had nothing. “…my gratitude.”

That seemed to be enough. The young man was left blushing as he placed the glass and loaf of bread by her bedside. Her stomach roared in both want and trepidation. She grabbed the bread—all definitions of hunger—and paused. The quake in her stomach. The constant vomiting. Her hand faltered, and she instead attempted to stand. The sheerness of her dress stopped her. “Where are my clothes?”

“They are hanging out to dry. I’ll be sure to return them to you.” His dark eyes flickered briefly to the plate and then back to her face. “I’m Han.”

“Hello, Han.” Her mind was too foggy to come up with a fake name. “How long have I…”

“Five hours. You should eat. You…you were very sick.”

I’m sick. She swallowed her tongue. No…no… The pain flashed through her eyes. The sickening feeling in her bones and gut and brain. The rippling unease under her skin. This was different, she knew that. She couldn’t afford to be distracted now. “Bring me my clothes when they are dry. You can leave, Han.”

His eyes enlarged. He looked worried, pale. “But…”

“I thank you and your family for your hospitality. I just need to rest a bit more.” She grabbed the water on her nightstand. Playing nice made her even thirstier. “Will I get to see you later?”

Han nodded fervently. “Of course! Of course, pr—miss.”

That did it. She clenched the glass harder, hands hot and almost molten. I’m not Zuko. She inhaled, settled. She understood restraint. “Until then.” She raised the glass, and with locked eyes, took a sip as Han smiled and left her in the room alone.

The water was warm. Tasteless. Most likely poisoned. She spit it out immediately and found whatever energy she could muster to get to the wash basin in the corner of the room and rinse her mouth raw. What an idiot.

Did that boy even know what he was sent to do? Did he simply think he was serving a princess? Was asked to make sure she ate and drink, not knowing that…

Forget him.

She moved slowly, hands on her knees as she went to the door and snapped the lock. Her gold eyes took in the large room, the red carpet, the writing desk and chair in the near corner. Her fingers flexed, and her mind twitched with unease. She pushed the wooden chair under the knob, wedging the door, and moved towards the back windows. A pushback on the curtains flushed the room with light.

First floor. That was good. But it was still afternoon, the sun high and bright and making all her actions visible. You’re a firebender. The thought eased her. You love the sun.

The nightgown was too long and lacy for her liking, and Azula went through the wardrobe of the room, finding a light red cloak. It was winter in the Fire Nation, and while that by no means meant it was cold, the cloak would protect her from the sharp wind that was more common this time of year.

And it was indistinct enough.

My face isn’t. Azula touched her sharp cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, her long hair. There was nothing in this room that would change that except for the cloak’s hood. But it would have to do. She had to get out of the Fire Nation immediately.

Her bones ached as she cracked the window open and rolled more than stepped out of the inn. I could burn it now. The thought was all too tempting. Those fools had been convinced to try and poison her twice, and though weak, the blue flames readily came to her.

No, I don’t need a trail.

Azula massaged her beaten throat with her right hand. Her body coiled with fear, so much so that every other sensation felt muted, lost. The grass. The air. Even the overwhelming dehydration was far from her mind as panic enveloped her, ate away at her chi.

Where will you go?

Who would possibly help you?

Who’s trying to kill you?

Azula shook her head, tears burning. It took everything not to collapse in the dirt, and she stumbled forward slowly before remembering that she was escaping and needed to run. She tried, begged, and pleaded with her legs to work, but the dehydration handicapped her. Azula wrapped the thin cloak further around her body. The small village had more people in the dirt street, and she was drawing attention. Caravan shop keepers and busy housewives seemed to gawk at her, and she froze, slowing to what she hoped to be an unnoticeable walk.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

The thoughts rolled together, crashing and blurring until it all felt like nothing but white noise. She was panicking. She could feel it. The deterioration, the quicksilver fear. That was the worst of it. She knew it was happening, that she was breaking, turning rabid, and no part of her could contain it for long.

Steady. She found her breath. Felt her chi. The warmth and familiarity of it coursed through her muscles until it ebbed the blinding fear. It would work for a moment, long enough maybe for her to put distance between her and this fucking place.

Azula dipped and dodged around people. There were too many for a small village, and she flinched as a passerby brushed the open skin of her wrist, his fingernails jagged and rough as he grabbed her. His voice was unfamiliar and hard against her. And she could feel the muscles in her neck tense, the pall seep through her spine as he placed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should burn, bitch.”

Chapter Text

The council that Sokka was begrudgingly still on was supposed to meet in ten minutes. It would take him at least that amount of time to get dressed again and probably another fifteen to actually find the damn meeting room. He appreciated Zuko’s offer of letting him stay in the palace—the food was great, and he really did need to figure out a way to ship his mattress back to the South Pole or at least Republic City—but more and more often, he felt uneasy. An elephant koi out of water.

The cold shower did nothing to calm him down, and though winter, Sokka still felt sweaty as he laid on his wonderfully soft bed. His body seemed to air dry quickly even in the Fire Nation’s wet heat, and he could already feel the humidity and his stupid, stupid task begin to weigh on him.

How do they expect me to do this? His fingers dug through his hair, loose from his normal wolf’s-tail and still a bit wet from his shower. The end of his conversation with Zuko in the throne room was unhelpful and unconvincing.

He should do it because he was capable.

Because Zuko was too close and Aang was too busy.

Because Katara would just straight-up murder her.

Okay, so the last one was true. And perhaps Zuko and Aang were also not the best choice either, but why did he have to go alone?

Ty Lee seemed willing enough and had the not-negligible advantage of actually knowing Azula. Unlike Sokka. His experiences with the Fire Nation princess were brief and, to be frank, not a highlight. He groaned before turning onto his bare stomach and squished his head into the pillow. “Fuck me.”

“...Been there. Don’t think we should do it again.”

Sokka jumped from his position on the bed, shell-shocked at the voice. He moved quickly to unlock his bedroom door and let the Kyoshi Warrior in. Her face paint was gone, brown hair loose and also damp. Her hands flinched over the v-neckline of her green yukata, tugging it higher, as if any reveal of skin would be an invitation.

Sokka knew it wouldn’t be, though his chest and something lower still itched for her some days. Well, most days. Their breakup had been just over a year ago, and it was mutual, amicable. Which somehow made it worse.

Suki was still beautiful. Her face had a softness to it, a roundness cut strong by the short bob haircut and teal eyes. Looking at her was exhausting, confusing. He felt pain and happiness and regret all in one moment, and he wondered if all love was like this. If he’d forever have to avoid this girl and the freaking moon for the rest of his life.

“Can I talk to you?” She was straight in his doorframe, body, voice and whole demeanor too serious for his liking.

“You sure here? I don’t want old man Ping listening in.”

“Not here.” She admitted. Suki bit her lip, and Sokka tensed, attempting to swallow the swell of emotion seeing her strong and beautiful and so incredibly not his. She pointed to his naked chest and coughed. “Want to get dressed?”

“Oh, um right.” His cheeks flushed at her motion. He scrambled away from the door and pulled clothing roughly out of his pack. “Formal attire or…”

“Don’t bother. You must be on fire.” Suki, unusually timid, walked into the circular room. The walls were lined with candled sconces, the floor covered with soft, blood-red carpet. She touched the frame of a watercolor painting—turtle ducks in a pond—before sitting in one of the two chairs. “I swear this heat isn't typical.”

“You say that every winter.”

“Maybe it’s true every winter,” she fired back, smile loose. “You get used to it after a while.”

He hesitated and picked a sleeveless blue tunic to cover his tanned skin. It was a gift from Aang back when Republic City first became more than just an idea and the necessity for Sokka to be in warmer climates became more frequent than not. His fingers brushed the smooth cotton, suddenly missing Aang and wondering what Spirit business kept him and Katara from today’s council meeting. The bitter feeling coursed through him when he turned to Suki again. “I suppose you can get used to anything.”

“Not anything.” Suki admonished. She stood again, all amusement gone. “The council meeting doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, we can meet…”

“Huh? I thought it started well, uh, now?”

“That’s because you’re always late.” Suki shrugged. “Zuko finally figured out how to get one of his most trusted members there on time.”

“By lying?”

“I call it…working with the situation.”

“Wonder how he figured that out,” Sokka muttered. Suki had always done the same with him on their later dates. Which was strange, now that Sokka was thinking about it again. He normally loved to keep to a schedule.

The Kyoshi Warrior didn’t respond but opened the door for them to leave. Sokka followed, reluctantly leaving both his boomerang and sword behind. His body still felt heavy, and he kept two paces behind the young woman. She moved with a defined ease, cutting through servants and lesser noblemen, navigating staircases and hallways and wings that Sokka swore never existed before.

The palace was massive, with high shadows and fire torches every few feet. The sun poured in through the few windows, and Sokka sidestepped the light, already too uncomfortably warm. Suki’s shoulders were high as she pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the metal door to what he assumed to be today’s council meeting room. It was circular, the walls encased with heavy tapestries of dragons and suns and all things Fire Nation. One looked newer than all the others, the fabric unfaded by light and still vibrantly rich. Sokka paused over the image. There were two small figures across from each other on the giant background of the palace’s courtyard, a meteor above breaking the sky. The figures were small parts of the giant woven fabric, but the scar and blue flames drew up Katara’s story from his memory. The Agni Kai.

He was not formalized with Fire Nation tradition, but Sokka understood the concept of an Agni Kai. The Water Tribes, back before their initial separation, were said to have something similar. A fight of honor and pride and death. Sokka sometimes wondered why Azula was even alive. If she were alive still. Would save me a lot of trouble.

“Sokka?”

He jerked back to the rest of the room, and Suki standing at the front of it. Sokka broke the tension and fell into his seat, a name placard already up for the council meeting later this afternoon. “Sorry. What’s up? You seem distracted.”

“I am,” Suki admitted easily. She rolled the sleeves of her yukata, nervous habit more than need, and went to the bronze pitcher in the corner of the room. “Would you like some water?”

“Would love some.”

She poured two cups and handed one to Sokka. The warrior still stood, unnaturally tense. “I don’t exactly know where to begin, Sokka.”

Memories burned through him. This dialogue was too familiar, the words taken from his own mouth.

“I don’t know where to begin, Suki.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?”

Her head rose, and he wondered if the memory was clear for her too. If it was still painful, crippling. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

The parallelism was shot. Sokka twirled the metal cup in his hand. “The council meeting is soon, Sukes. You can tell Toph anything, and I’m sure Chief Arnook and …”

“No.” Suki gripped her cup with both hands. “I can’t. This is too personal.”

Personal? Like in too many scenarios, Sokka’s voice moved before his brain. “It’s about Zuko, isn’t it?”

Her blue eyes seemed to spark at that, and to his discontent, Suki started nodding. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”

“Why not?”

“I promised Zuko I wouldn’t.”

His back rippled, and the anger, the jealousy reared its ugly head. Sokka tapped on the wooden table. “Think you would put me above Zuko.”

“And why would I?”

There was no bitterness in her voice or even anger. Suki looked at him curiously, eyes piercing and too damn pretty for him. Fuck, he missed her. And wasn’t that the whole problem? Wasn’t the reason why they didn’t work because he simply missed her too much? Sokka waved his hand. “Forget it. I’m listening, Suki, but you don’t have to tell me. I understand you’re loyal to Zuko—he is your boss and all…” That was harder to say than he expected. He felt like he was eating rocks. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’d prefer you’d tell me and know I wouldn’t…”

“Ozai is dead.”

The cup tilted, water bleeding across the table as Sokka’s face fell. The words seemed clouded, censored from his brain. “…what?”

“We found him two days ago. Zuko…Zuko visits him, but this time…” Her gaze drifted, lost. Sokka shifted up from his seat immediately and placed both hands on Suki’s shoulders. She jumped at the contact, the sudden heat between them, and Sokka fought the urge to bring her closer, to hug her. He waited for her to move, to shift her body weight into him. Suki didn’t. She inhaled deeply and raised her chin. He could feel her warm breath hit him like a hammer. “The Kyoshi Warriors have been receiving more and more death threats against Zuko’s life as well.”

“More than usual?” He was completely dizzy.

She half-smiled at his humor. Good. They had at least that still. “I didn’t think it was possible either, but yes.”

“Then thank the Spirits he has you watching his back.”

Suki blushed and finally moved away, letting his hands fall away from her and back to his side. “Thank you. But I really need all the help I can get. That’s why…I’m sorry we have to send you out there alone.”

“And here I thought you just didn’t want me to go with Ty Lee.”

Her head turned to the side, face flushed red. “Why would you think that?”

“No reason.”

“Can’t be because she flirts with you every chance she…”

“Captain Suki.” He saluted coolly, smirk growing. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

“Or you.”

His lips tightened. “Excuse me?”

Suki coughed and held her hair back in a mock wolf-tail. “Oh Suki, I do think you should put me above the Fire Lord that you’ve only sworn an oath to protect.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You really do.” Suki smiled. “I used to think it was cute.”

“Used to?”

“It’s still sort of cute. Am I allowed to say that?”

“I don’t know if there are strict rules to this exes thing.”

She relaxed, exhaling deeply. “If there is, well, just know it’s okay if you want to.”

“Want to?”

“Date Ty Lee.” Suki scowled. “I mean, it doesn’t feel okay. I’d be weird about it at first, but I love Ty Lee and I love you, so…”

“I don’t want to date Ty Lee.” Sokka said hurriedly, shocked a bit by his own statement. There was no reason why he wouldn’t want to. Ty Lee was pretty. She was incredibly nice and too, too flexible and had an obvious crush on him since he was fifteen. “And I guess…I…I guess it’s okay if you want to.”

Suki’s head jumped, eyes huge. “Huh?”

“Date Zuko.” Sokka paused, the air too tense, the silence too long. “This is where you say you don’t want to date Zuko.” Another pause. Sokka placed his hands on his hips, tone accusatory. “Wait, do you?”

“Of course not!” Suki finally seemed to catch up. “He’s my charge.”

“Uh huh.”

“And besides, he and Mai will work things out.”

“They’ve been broken up longer than us, Suki.”

“But unlike us, they actually have the capacity to see each other.” The warrior grabbed at her hair and pulled at some imagined split end.

“Yeah, but like us, they don’t.” The meaning was there, the hurt, the wreckage. Sokka and her both knew that it wasn’t the distance that broke them but the unwillingness on either side to compromise on it.

“I hate the cold.”

Sokka shook the memory away and went back to his council’s seat. “We’re nominating the official representatives of this…currently unnamed council today. It was fun and all doing this, but I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other much after this.”

Suki opened her mouth quickly but stopped herself. Her eyebrows furrowed together, and he waited for the anger, her sharp tongue. He had pissed her off, and instead of the yell, she only said, “Zuko has no desire to be on the council.”

“And he shouldn’t be.” Sokka admitted. “Or Chief Arnook. Or even me when…”

“When you become chief?”

“Exactly.” Though the thought only excited him. His path to chiefdom wasn’t predetermined—Hakoda himself was only elected as Head Chief of all the Southern tribes in the past few years—but he already had many of his people’s support should the day come. I need to go back home. The blistering heat only confirmed his thoughts.

This temporary council—if it could even be called that—was a nice distraction, though the work they accomplished was so much more than that. Though no actual authority besides Zuko (and Aang’s ridiculous amount of influence), one trusted member from each Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, and the Fire Nation discussed the increasingly complicated relationship between Republic City and the rest of the world. Old Cranefish Town was quickly morphing into a metropolis, something that could one day contest with the likes of Ba Sing Se. It needed to be properly managed, but before Zuko formalized a proposition, they were left talking about said proposition for months. It was, to say the least, incredibly tedious even if the end result was worth it. 

There was a bellow from the hallway, and soon, Toph was slamming more than opening the metal door. Sokka sniffed. “I think I should probably kick Toph off too. Why did we swap Kuei out?”

“Because you missed my face too much, Snoozles. Plus, the dude was trying to give bears equal rights. Safe to say his judgment was compromised.” She bent the front face of the door straight again, clapping her hands together. Her gaze shifted two heads above Suki. “Eh, am I interrupting something?”

Suki waved her hands. “Of course not. I was just on my break and wanted to catch up with…”

“Your ex-boyfriend.” The earthbender yawned into a stretch and then sat in Zuko’s seat, feet on top of the metal table. “Cool. Sounds not suspicious at all.”

“We can be friends, Toph,” Sokka guided the girl up from her right arm and sat her down next to him and in front of the proper name placard. Even though she had managed to grow an inch or two, it was still impossible for Sokka to separate this young woman from the twelve-year-old girl they found wrestling in the Earth Kingdom. Toph reached forward and grabbed a moon peach from the center fruit bowl, dirt crumbling from her toes at the motion.

Suki nodded. “Right. We’re friends.”

“Yup, believable. You know, you guys don’t make relationships seem all that glamorous.” Peach rolled from her chin. “Between you and Angst Lord, I’ll happily be single forever.”

“How are Katara and Aang, Sokka?” Suki desperately tried to change the conversation.

“Nauseating.”

“Yup. Convinced me. Single life it is.” Toph picked at her teeth. “Knew there would be some other way I could piss off my parents.”

The door swung open again, more calmly this time, though Fire Lord Zuko looked stressed beyond repair. Aang and even his sister could sometimes calm him down, talk him off the ledge, and Sokka, when he felt like it, usually could crack a grin from Zuko’s normally grim face. But the want to help his friend vanished as Suki went to the door, head bowed slightly, cheeks still flushed. She touched his arm lightly, whispering too low for him to overhear, and saluted Ty Lee and Yuko in full warrior makeup and armor. The three Kyoshi Warriors placed their left hand to their right hip and exited the room. Ty Lee and Yuko would be right outside, waiting for Zuko to leave again. But Suki…

Stop it. Sokka crossed his arms, leaning so far back in his chair that he almost fell over. Toph turned to the scrape of his chair and eyed him as best she could. “All okay up there, Snoozles?”

“You can still tell when I’m lying, right?”

“Sure can.”

“Then no. Not really.” His blue eyes caught Zuko at the end of the table. “Have a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sorry to put this on you, Sokka.” And the sheer exhaustion and pain in his friend’s voice made the Water Tribesman incredibly guilty. Sure, Ozai wasn’t what Sokka would ever deem a good father, but he was still Zuko’s and he had still died. He wanted to reach out to his friend, say something funny or calming, but his voice slipped. He wasn’t supposed to know anything besides the horrendous task assigned to him.

He managed to crack a smile. “No worries. Should be…interesting.”

“Interesting?” Toph’s voice lifted. “What’s Zuko making you do?”

“Oh, you know.” Sokka shrugged. “Just find Azula and bring her back to the palace. Piece of cake.”

Toph choked on her peach. “So, he’s sending you to die?”

“Hey! I think I can…”

Toph shoved Sokka’s shoulder. “Zuko, I can try and get Twinkle Toes to give me some time off so I can help.”

Zuko ran his fingers harshly over both is eyes, exhaustion dripping. “I don’t want Azula to feel threatened.”

“Why not?” Toph shrugged. “She’s a threat.”

Sokka saw Zuko’s sharp intake of breath and pushed his water to the Fire Lord. He placed a hand on Toph’s forearm, steadying the earthbender. “I got it, Toph.”

“But you really don…”

“I got it. I’ll send you a message if I don’t, okay?” He glanced quickly to Zuko who silently nodded. He didn’t want to scare his sister. Okay. Sokka got that. Azula wasn’t the best when she felt threatened or betrayed, but Sokka failed to see a scenario where she wouldn’t be attacking him. He needed to sharpen his boomerang. His thoughts drifted at the loud, persistent knocking. “I think Chief Arnook is trying to metalbend the door down.”

“Let’s just get this over with then. Aang sent me his shortlist of representatives for Republic City’s permanent council.”

“Vetoing Bumi.” Toph yawned. “Dude’s a psycho.”

“And a member of the White Lotus. If anything, we should be trying to spread power before we establish a fifth nation.” Sokka elaborated before rubbing at a tight muscle in his forearm. “Oh, and he trapped me in rock candy. Complete nut case.”

For what it was worth. Zuko seemed to pull in his scattered thoughts and took a sip from the metal cup. “This will make for a long discussion then. Arnook! Push the door! It’s unlocked.”

Chapter Text

It was all reflex, really.

The sharp counter of her left hand on his bicep, pushing him down at an angle that made him scream and his knees give out. The readjustment of her footing, creating a strong though malleable base. The gears of her training snapped back into place, and Azula watched as the man stumbled to his feet. The dirt road rose from his clumsiness, a flying cloud, and the sun made his black hair almost auburn as it stood high above them. His clothes were poor and already dirty, and he was completely more beggar than assassin. Though perhaps he could say the same about her.  

Somewhere in the surrounding crowd a woman screamed as he drew a knife. The metal was sharp, new. So was the handle.

Inexperienced then?

They would really send someone inexperienced against her?

The dehydration ate at her still, but her body became pure adrenaline and chi. She was threatened, attacked, dishonored, and she would not take that no matter how feeble and parched her mouth was.

“Burn?” She drew her thumb against her pointer finger, sparking a tiny blue flame. “Careful with your words.”

“Traitor.” The poor man—a peasant, really—spat on the ground. He held onto his knife tightly, and Azula let him scramble back to his feet. “Traitor to the crown.”

“At one point. But haven’t you heard?” She coughed. Each word was rough sand in her throat. “I’m trying to be a good girl.”

He swiped long in the air. He was tall, lanky, and his reach would have hit her if she hadn’t side stepped. Azula did so with ease, flicking a loose bang behind her ear. The crowd around them murmured, whispered. They probably knew who she was. Fantastic.

Her lace getup and cloak were less than ideal, and her agility felt viscous. Luckily, her so-called assassin was abysmal, and she soon grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing and burning until he screamed and dropped the small knife in sudden horror. Azula gave the weapon a passing glance and looked to the young man. His eyes were wide, bright, and incredibly green. It bothered something deep within her.

“Who sent you?”

He spat clear in her face. She did her best not to twitch and instead let her bending loose. The smell of burnt skin filled the air, intense heat and glow of impure flame. Azula sniffed, grimacing. He would have third degree burns on his wrist. No matter. A consequence for defiance. 

She gripped him harder though her voice remained controlled. “Who sent you? Was it Ukano?” Her time working with Mai’s father and the rebranded New Ozai Society had come to a sudden end after her brief stint as a child kidnapper. It had caused her to leave the Caldera and drudge around the outskirts of the capital and eventually the outer islands of the Fire Nation like a pauper. The memories of the Kemurikage dug into her skin, still bitter. “Tai Yan?”

He moved to spit again, but Azula covered his mouth, the urge to light him up and be done with it almost all-consuming. The crowd was still around her. The murmurs were clear cut shouts now, and as much as her addled brain thought they would be against her, the townspeople weren’t.

“He attacked that poor girl!”

“Poor? She can sure kick-ass. If only I had her…”

“That’s what he gets for messing with a firebender. He looks like Earth Kingdom scum.”

Azula wrapped her forearm around the assassin’s neck and tugged him close to her chest. He was taller than her, and the action was awkward, but she bought herself enough time to point out an officer in the crowd. His rounded red hat bobbled forward at her gesture.

“This man tried to kill me.” She shoved the assassin forward, and he responded with a heavy growl and his left-hand tightening over the red shine of his left wrist. “Arrest him.”

“Of course, miss. I’ll need a statement.

Her eyebrow cocked. “Certainly, but could I go home first? Tell my mother I’m okay?” The lie stuttered from her mouth. Something she once did with ease seemed to bruise her own lips.

The officer’s face softened. He gestured for two lower-ranking men to help grab her attacker and the forgotten knife on the ground. “We’re based a little further down the main road there.” His hand was outstretched to one of the more built up huts in this spirits-forsaken place. “Come by when you’re ready. Bring your mother if that makes you more comfortable.”

She felt her eyes well. Good. She hadn’t completely lost it. “Why of course. Thank you, Captain…”

“Lee.”

“Captain Lee.” Azula kept from rolling her eyes at the common name and quickly left the scene, a fake wipe at her eyes. Maneuvering through the crowd proved to be more troubling as women coddled her and men offered to protect her. The sarcasm almost slipped from her unpainted lips, but Azula held her fake demeanor. She already had caused too much of a literal scene.

Her slippers weren’t made for quick or dirty travel, but she made do. She scrambled more than ran to the outskirts of the village, dragging her cloak over her head in mock chill. No one had recognized her yet, which had the surprising effect of annoying her. Who else could bend blue fire besides their princess?

Forgotten princess.

She could lament the loss of her throne. And her friends. Her brother. Father. Mother. But what good would that do? Would that tell her who was trying to kill her? Or why the voice in her head suddenly went silent after she stopped seeking the throne?

Sometimes the desire still trickled through her, but it was muted now, an ache of want more than a burnished need. Something that she thought was her destiny felt more like a curse, an ill omen, a…miscalculation.

As she walked down the dirt path, sun just beginning to wane, the sharp adrenaline left her bloodstream only to be replaced by pure exhaustion. She was still weak from the poison, the dehydration, and the shock that someone wanted her dead and wanted her dead immediately.  

Why?

She was nothing. No soft power. No authority. No pull. Zuko wouldn’t even let her near the Caldera; there was no way she posed any threat to the throne.

It’s the Kemurikage.

Azula bit her lip. Blood spurted in her mouth, her lips incredibly dry and already cracking. She wiped the salt away with her right hand and trudged further from the village, allowing her body to stop once the houses and huts were no more than specks of pointed roofs. The untraveled road was shaded. Heavy palm trees umbrellaed the sun from her view, and Azula’s shoulders lifted. Funneling the last of her strength, she pushed a blunt side kick into a base of one large tree. Coconuts spilled from above, and she took one, greedily cracking the shell on the ground before letting the water run down her face and throat. It felt like breathing. The hollow shell of her brain became flushed with feeling again, and Azula bit away her anxiety.

I have to get out of here.

On reflex, her hands went to a non-existent pocket, looking for her small vial of herbs. But of course, that was gone. That and whatever remaining yuan she had. Damn it. 

It was a two day walk away to Fire Fountain City. There she could find a boat to Cranefish Town and have access to the rest of the Earth Kingdom.

Her uncle would…fuck. That self-righteous coward would help her if she showed up at his door. He’d offer her tea or something equally insipid, and she would have to take it. She would need to grovel and promise to change. Swear that she’d spend the rest of her days in constant penance, brewing tea and playing Pai Sho in the back room.

No.

No.

No.

She would be a spectator. Run and hide while Ukano and those bitches try to hunt her down like a dog. Azula stiffened her back flat against the palm tree.

That wouldn’t do.

No, not at all.

She would always be a player. The rules of the game simply changed.

Runaway, renegade spirits always had priority over standard nation politics, so Sokka was left without a sister, Avatar, and flying bison transport. The task of finding the lost, psychotic Fire Nation princess was firmly left in his very capable— though non-bender— hands and the lackluster advice from his friends.

“If you attack here, here, and here, she won’t be able to shoot lightning.” Ty Lee drifted her hands to his forearm, ear, and chest, fingers pausing under his collarbone. He felt the heat swarm up his face as she smiled under the white makeup, eyes too brown and grey to be anything he was more familiar with. “Hold here a little longer.” Her voice was low, almost velvet. “May take her off guard.”

“I’m not supposed to be fighting her.” His blue eyes glanced to Zuko. The newest Kyoshi Warrior was making chi blocking seem far too intimate an act for him to try on the Fire Lord’s sister.

Ty Lee smiled happily. “I know. It’s just in case.” She tiptoed up and ever so quickly laid a soft kiss on his cheek.

He leaned back. Though never opposed to public affection, the capital’s open-air harbor made him on guard. That and his ex-girlfriend. “And that?”

“That one was for luck.” She winked and practically skipped back and behind Suki. The captain’s face was blank before she stole a long glance at Zuko.

It was too early for any normal person to be up, but Sokka didn’t mind. Early mornings brought back memories of the South Pole. Of days with no or little sun and the soft glow the ice would capture when he’d gone fishing with his dad. His body ached for that sometimes. Something that was simpler than temporary councilman or hero or apparent princess-tracker. He missed his home and the cold deep in his bones, and a part of him wanted to run from this. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a bender. He wasn’t really linked to the Fire Nation Royal Family at all, and the main reason why he even agreed to be some sort of advisor here had broken up with him a year ago.

Sokka sighed and dragged up the small, blue duffle on his shoulder. He would have to pack light without Appa. “What makes you think she’ll work with me?”

Zuko eyed the bag and most likely the letter Sokka had wrapped carefully inside. “I left the amount to pay June blank on purpose.”

“I meant Azula.”

It was a much harder question to answer, and he watched the emotions shift easily on Zuko’s face. And perhaps it was because his mind simply worked better in the morning. Or maybe it was the sudden look of sympathy in Suki’s eyes, but Sokka knew there was no shot in hell that he was bringing Azula back to be arrested. This is about protecting her.

It made sense, really. The threats on Zuko. Ozai’s murder. Someone was out for royal firebender blood, and Zuko wanted to make sure his little sister was okay.

It was that thought more than anything else that kept Sokka on the dock, offer the Fire Lord his hand and say, “I’ll bring her back to you. Promise.”

The handshake turned into a full-on hug, Zuko patting Sokka too harshly on the back, and making the Water Tribesman flinch from the contact. Zuko’s voice broke, emotions pouring once again. “Thank you.”

So, someone was trying to kill her?

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Or last, most likely, given what she had planned.

Her only experience undercover involved piles of makeup and too heavy armor, and as Azula stared at her reflection, whetstone and rock in hand, she hesitated. It wasn’t like her. Uncertainty. Inaction. She pulled loose her black hair and saw the waves ripple down easily in the clear brook. It was a perfect mirror. The flat water reflected back her image flawlessly, and the entire thing was just too reminiscent. She reflexively looked over her shoulder, for the ghost of a mother who was never there.

You need to do this.

She had thought that before too. She couldn’t do her own hair, so why bother at all? She had been cracked, shattered, a broken thing who was used and used and used until she was of no more value. Thrown away like a forgotten doll.

No.

A forgotten toy soldier.

Her movement was swift and clean. Long black hair fell into the brook below her, trapped in whatever slight current the water could muster. It hung, ends still rough, by her chin, and Azula leaned back, letting her body fall in the muddy grass, cathartic, restful.

It was moments like this that the fire in her hummed more than burned—a deep, resounding flush of flames that came from her lower stomach and flickered to her fingertips. She inhaled deeply, fanning it, and allowed her mind to begin to tick.

I need better clothes.

Fire Nation? Yes. There’s no way this complexion and eye color can pass for anything else.

Poor clothes then. Colony-style.  

Her breathing tightened.

What was it again? That idiotic law? The Harmony Restoration Movement? Not a bad name but need to keep that in mind. What are my thoughts on it? Where am I from? Where am I going?

That question was too true.

Where was she going exactly? First to Fire Fountain City and up and out to the Earth Kingdom where she could get closer to one of her targets. The green eyes of her assassin were a clear indicator of who she should hunt down first—a wealthy Earth Kingdom merchant who financed the New Ozai movement with coin and supplies more than vocal support. Fui Long could easily afford some low-rate blade to try and kill her, and he was definitely dumb enough to try. Tai Yan would just have to wait.

“Omashu then.” She fingered the ends of her hair, grimacing at the length. Her face was constantly dirty, long nails cut short to avoid breaking but already encrusted with grime. Azula barely recognized herself. She seemed frailer as much as she loathed to admit it. She was a ghost of the crowned princess, of the would-be Fire Lord, and she tried to find respite in the fact that that meant she wouldn’t be recognized.

The remaining walk to Fire Fountain City was uneventful. She found her way back to the main road easily enough, denying offers of komodo rhinos and carriages. A free ride always came with strings. Any favor did—this she had learned quickly in her life alone.

A disparate thought ripped through her.

She was alone. Again.

Always it seemed. Her whole life had been nothing but fake friends and forced family. She wondered what happened to Lo and Li—if their assurance and teachings were causal or not in her lust for power. For a throne that almost had been the death of her countless times.

And then there were her only friends. Her first betrayers after Zuko, who, really, she should have always known better. But…Mai and Ty Lee. How could they have dared?

You would have killed Zuko.

The thought coiled through her, calm yet assertive. You would have killed your own brother.

Yes.

Many times over. She would have gladly killed him. And the Avatar—again. And that blind girl and the two Water Tribe fools.

And she tried many, many nights to logic her way through it. To figure out the scenario that brought Mai aiming stilettos at her head. Of Ty Lee chi blocking her to paralysis.

How could love be greater than fear?

The statue of her father was ripped down shortly after her brother had taken the throne. She expected to see his scar-faced image in its stead but was shocked to find a large, white fountain. Water spouted highly, rainbow light refracting in the setting sun. The white stone of the marble seemed painted pink in the afterglow of the sunset, and Azula couldn’t help but go up to it, touch the surface of the stone. Smooth and cold.

This was somehow worse than her brother’s face.

It was dinner time in the Fire Nation, and the streets were emptied besides lounging couples and closing street vendors. Her yuan was left in that should-be-ashes inn, and Azula scowled before picking an unoccupied alley where red clothes hung out to dry.

The options were limited, and she quickly settled for a pair of blood-red harem pants that were too short on the ankle and a red kemben that seemed to have an oil stain on the front. No matter. She could do no better, and the disgusting nature of the clothes would only hide her identity more.

Azula twisted deeper into the alley and pulled the harem pants tight underneath her nightgown, which she quickly shed to wrap the kemben around her chest snuggly. The cloak she hesitated to leave. It would be colder as she went further north, but any prior object could be identifying. It wouldn’t be worth the risk. I can be a simple bender.

She practiced the thought and let loose a flame that was only orange in color. She wouldn’t have to fear the cold if she were still a firebender.

I need a name.

Azula passed the fountain, stepping far around the girls with their heads on some weak man’s shoulder. She could never truly understand that—what made others go bug-eyed and braindead over someone else. Her brief attempt at forming a romantic relationship ended with her burning her would-be beau’s house down (which, again, she should have known better), and after that, her interest in all things romantic were zero, negative if possible.

When she caught the rising moon, she settled quickly on Liang—a common enough name for a young woman in the Fire Nation— and strangely thought of Mai again. She wasn’t the Fire Lady, and her last piece of intelligence had confirmed that Mai and dear Zuzu had remained broken up. What was it then? What was it about her that made betrayal so easy? Surely Mai’s love for Zuko had been nothing (unsurprising), but yet it was still strong enough to sacrifice their friendship.

That had a foundation of fear.

Had Mai really feared her? She knew that about Ty Lee—who at one point walked the thin line of awe and terror that Azula oh-so loved drawing. Mai was different. Though dour and stolid, the young girl had craved excitement, anything that could attempt to drag her out of the redundancy of her noblewoman life. Azula had offered that, hadn’t she? Invites to the palace. To Ember Island. Even formulating several rendezvous with her joke of a brother.

Mai had never feared her. Mai had used her for amusement, which Azula could respect. Azula had used her for her inability to hit off target.

…

What would she do if she saw them again?

And she would have to, of course. If she were to do her job right.

Azula didn’t let the unpleasant thought linger. She needed to focus on the task at hand. Nighttime nearly swept the entirety of Fire Fountain City, but Azula managed to find the offshoot of road that led away from the main city streets and down to the tiny harbor below. The plan was imperfect. Azula would work for passage to the Earth Kingdom but finding a ship comfortable with a female firebender was a lower probability than it should have been. And the ships themselves lining the small harbor were mostly no more than tiny dinghies, fishing boats designed for shallow waters and in no way offering passage to any foreign nation.

There was one barge, however, that stood out. All smooth metal and presence, the ship dragged Azula’s attention. It dominated the harbor, and Azula attempted to look for any indication that the ship was destined for other waters when a hand tapped her shoulder.

She jumped and turned around, the circumstances of the day and her life causing her to immediately be on guard. She managed to refrain from any offensive action, which was fortunate. The tapper was no more than some middle-aged woman, black hair streaked with grey and an ‘o’ expression on her small mouth. “Didn’t mean to startle you. It just looked like you wanted to board?”

“Board?” The princess took a step back. There was a boarding dock still down. “You mean on this ship?”

“I could be mistaken.” The woman looked pleasant enough. She had green eyes, which was strange for someone who otherwise looked entirely Fire Nation. Biracial then. That was something uncommon in Azula’s world. “The TransMoCo goes right across the sea to Republic City.”

“Republic…” She quirked an eyebrow. “I’m trying to get to Cranefish Town.”

“Ah, you didn’t hear the rebranding? It’s Republic City now. Word is that there’s gonna be a huge vote on whether or not we want it to officially be a fifth nation or not.”

“Fifth…” So not only was her brother letting the colonies go, he was allowing them to be sovereign? This was why he needed her. The Fire Nation would cease to exist by the time Zuko left the throne.

The woman placed her hands on her hips. She was dressed in Earth Kingdom clothes, now that Azula could properly take her in. She was taller than her, and her hands were bruised and calloused from what must have been ship work. “That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? The TransMoCo is the ferry you’re looking for.”

Is it? Azula didn’t think to voice her question; she had already appeared naïve enough to this woman. “You’ll still let me board? I don’t have…”

“Passengers don’t pay.” She was quickly waved off by the woman. “You’re here to get work and Spirits know Republic City could use the labor. Companies sponsor my little venture, especially since you’ll need all the funds you can get. Housing is through the roof there, I’ll tell ya. Oh, where are my manners? I’m Shina. First Mate on the TransMoCo. Let me show you to an open berth. Make up for my rudeness.”

“Liang.” Azula almost fell into a bow but halted as Shina just kept walking towards the opening on the barge.

Shina was kind enough to bring her to a room, though the circumstances of said room and if it could even qualify as a room Azula kept to herself. It was not the first time she had been humbled, and sitting on the top bunk of one of three bunk beds was not her most humbling experience. Not by far. The room was occupied by what appeared to be a Fire Nation family. Their clothes were ripped and muddied, and the father’s black beard was entirely too short to belong to anyone important. The woman cradled a baby to her chest while a young boy, no more than three, jumped on his bed.

He looked to Azula, eyes bright, but was immediately shushed down by the mother. Her smile was worn, though kind, gold eyes too dim to be a bender. “Off to Republic City then?”

Azula slipped off her shoes but kept them next to her on the bed. “Omashu eventually. I have an uncle there.” Almost the truth.

“Omashu’s hard work.” The father didn’t make eye contact with her, too busy ruffling through something in an open duffle. “I hear it’s run by a lunatic.”

Azula was certain all nations were at this point and shrugged. “I promised a visit.”

“You didn’t lose your job too?” The young boy chirped, causing both parents to turn red with embarrassment.

“My husband’s looking for work in Republic City.” The woman cooed the baby, rocking the child gently. “He…uh…he used to work in one of the tank factories during the war.”

The man scoffed, still avoiding eye contact. “She doesn’t need to know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Azula crossed her legs and closed her eyes. The baby was starting to cry again, and the little boy continued to jump. She would need to meditate to get through this.

It was late into the night when she woke to something cold on her throat. It was pressed firmly, blunt side digging in so that she gagged and stirred her eyes open with a jump.

“What the fu...”

“Shhh, this can be quick.”

The small cabin was empty. No baby. No little boy. The fire from the candles had been extinguished hours ago, and it took moments for Azula’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, to see that poor, emaciated mother standing over her with a shank to her neck. Azula stiffened. “It will be. But not in the way you think.”

“Shut up.” The woman angled the shank, and a thin cut broke Azula’s white skin. The firebender didn’t fidget, didn’t so much as look at the blood running from her throat. “Where’s your money?”

“Where’s your family?”

“Gone and in on it. Couldn’t trust my husband with a pretty thing like you, so here I am.” She maneuvered the blunt side back on her skin and pressed hard into the wound. “Getting my hands dirty.”

“Get the fuck off me, urchin.”

“Urchin?” Her eyes lifted, amused. “And what are you?”

“Desperately trying not to kill you.”

The woman sniffed. “You’re no better. Omashu my ass. It takes 2,000 yuans to get to Omashu by carriage. Either hand it over or admit that you’re an urchin too.”

Azula snarled. She could light this woman up in less than a heartbeat. The fire roared in her, beating at her chest and hands for release. Didn’t this woman know? Couldn’t she tell she was dealing with a force of nature? It would be easy. A snap. A blink. This woman would be ashes and bone, but something in Azula’s body hesitated. That fucking inaction again. A ripple of coolness settled in her, and Azula steadied her breathing, careful not to let her neck dig into the shank anymore. “I have nothing.” She coughed the words out but held her chin high. “Go on. See for yourself.”

The woman didn’t waver and quickly moved her free hand over Azula’s body. The cold, slimy grip pulled down her harem pants, undid her kemben, and even went through her short hair. She scowled the whole time, practically spitting as she took the slippers from under Azula’s pillow. “These are mine.”

The princess glanced at the woman’s feet, arched on the top bunk, red and blistered and oozing. She said nothing but watched the woman scramble off her, sharp metal still pointed to her face. In an instant, the woman left the cabin empty, shoes too small but tightly slipped on her feet. Azula shot upright, mind swimming, and tore a strip from the dirty bed sheet. She coiled the bandage around her neck, firmly pressing and eyed the door with contempt but mostly confusion.

She could have killed that woman so, so easily. The woman had threatened her life, the look in her eyes crazy and murderous and…and…

Desperate.

Azula could gag on the word. The blood was starting to clot on her skin, and she fell back, angry at herself more than anything. She could still find her now. She could get out of this cabin, throw that baby overboard, and light this whole ship up in flames.

Then do it.

The voice was harsh, dispassionate.

Do it.

“No.” Azula closed her eyes. Her body shivered, half-naked and cold.

No? Why not?

Her hand fell off the side of the bunk bed, dried blood on her fingertips. “I’m tired.”

Chapter Text

“75,000 yuan? No. Absolutely not. Do you think Zuko wants to bankrupt…”

“The paper’s blank, sweetheart.” June gruffly sipped her beer. It must have been warm by now. She had been nursing the same glass since Sokka had approached her. Which had to be at least twenty minutes ago. “And haven’t you heard? War is profitable, and the Fire Nation just finished a doozy of one.”

“50,000.”

“No.” June swirled the glass. “Let’s just consider who you’re asking me to hunt down as well.”

Sokka huffed and maneuvered his sword so he could comfortably adjust in his seat. His beer had been finished soon after he arrived, and for some reason the waitress seemed less eager to serve him in the crowded bar as soon as he sat down next to June. They were currently in a small, side table. The booth was wooden but somehow still sticky. The candles were all half-melted messes, but June didn’t seem the least bothered by it. When June was in Republic City—which she was often—the Striped Lemur had always been her favorite dive. He knew he could find her there, just not that she would be so difficult. “I get that she’s a princess.”

“I don’t give a shit that she’s a princess. Nyla can track anyone down. A princess is no rarer than a peasant when it comes to this.” The bounty hunter sighed and inched forward, black hair almost covering her cheeks. “Wanna know the real reason why I need to get paid big to track down your girlfriend?”

Sokka bristled. “Not my girlfriend.”

“Because she’s batshit.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I really don’t.” June crossed her legs, elbows on the pretty disgusting table. “You leave crazy alone.”

“June, this isn’t about…”

“You’re cute too. Too young for me. Don’t get excited. But you could do better. I know she’s pretty, but in my opinion, her crazy scale is tipped a little too far.”

“June…”

“And your mom really should have told you this, but let me pass on a piece of advice: you never, ever put your dick…”

“75,000 yuan! Sure! Take it!” Sokka stood up from his seat and scribbled the numbered characters on to Zuko’s sealed letter. “Cash that in next time you’re in the Fire Nation, but let’s go now.”

June’s eyebrow rose. “Now? That lovesick?”

“Joke’s getting old.” Though Sokka didn’t expand on his reasoning. He watched, rightfully impressed, when the bounty hunter chugged the remnants of her beer and pocketed the letter. “Where’s the shirsu?”

June left a few yuan on the table and led Sokka out of the bar and back to the mess that was Republic City. Cranefish Town’s growth spurt was starting to weigh heavily on the citizens and environment. Construction sites were everywhere, roads constantly blocked, and litter started to pile on the unpaved streets. Sokka remembered the zoning recommendations for the between-town-and-city and knew it would get better. Eventually. He’d have to delay going home until it did. Fuck.

Nyla was tied outside an inn down the street in what should have been a hitching post only for komodo rhinos. Sokka swallowed at the look of the beast. Shirsu weren’t common anywhere anymore, but the Water Tribesman knew the animal got results, even if it wasn’t the most pleasant to look at. June reached out a hand, snake tattoo flexing. “What can she smell?”

“Oh, right.” It was weird to be carrying this thing around, but Sokka reached into his pocket to pull out a tiny slipper. “Sorry, it’s pretty old, but we haven’t…”

“Shoes always smell.” June pinched the edge of Azula’s childhood shoe and held it up to Nyla. “There you go, girl. Got it? Good. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get to it.” The bounty hunter untied the shirsu and quickly mounted the beast. Sokka looked at it, hesitant, not exactly knowing how to get on the thing’s back at all. June huffed. “Just swing those muscled legs of yours over.”

He ignored the comment and lifted onto the animal’s back, the fur surprisingly smooth. Once Sokka was settled, Nyla burst from the post and galloped along the dirt road towards the bay. The beast zigzagged around crowds of people, focused, hunting whatever smell it could capture from the shoe. When they finally made the trip down to Yue Bay (he would never be grateful enough for that name passing), Nyla stopped short and nearly sent Sokka flying over June’s head.

“Well, that’s it.”

Sokka blinked. The harbor had a few vessels docked but other than that, no people. He couldn’t exactly picture Azula crashing in a houseboat.

…

Then again, he really couldn’t picture Azula in any sort of domestic situation.

“Are you sure?”

June pushed him off at the question, and Sokka fell with a thud and a bruise on his shoulder. He went to yell at the bounty hunter who threw the shoe back to him on the ground and groaned, “This is my job. Of course, I’m sure. Your princess is headed right this way.”

Oh. So Azula wasn’t here yet.

…

But she was coming here? To Republic City?

“Why?”

“Hell, if I know. She’ll probably dock at slip 4.”

“Nyla can get all that from her scent?”

“Of course not. But she’s undoubtedly coming from the Fire Nation and the only vessel that would leave this late for Republic City is that laborer ferry. She’s on that.” June turned smug. “Easiest 75 I’ve ever made.”

“It’s not over yet.” Sokka brushed the dirt from his blue pants. “You expect me to just wait and find her myself?”

“Arrival is 6AM. The TransMoCo is always timely. Trust me. Caught many a fugitive off that ship.” June blew him a kiss. “See you, sweetheart.”

He watched the woman turn the shirsu around and sprint away from the harbor. Sokka looked up to the moon, ignoring the bubbling feelings and attempting to find the time. He had hours to go until the ferry arrived. Before he’d have to convince a lunatic princess to turn right back around from where she came.

She left the Fire Nation.

The thought shouldn’t be surprising. As far as she knew, Zuko wanted her behind bars or back in a straight jacket. But it had been years since any order was issued to find the princess, and Sokka assumed that she was too prejudice to ever lower herself to live somewhere else.

Or she was dead.

She should have been, probably. Fuck, this job would have been a hell of a lot easier if she were. How had she survived? With the help of those masked terrorists Aang talked about? Hidden somewhere in the Caldera? But if Suki’s assumption was right, Azula would also be hunted down by whoever was trying to kill the Royal Family. And how could she survive—already a fugitive—when her father was murdered under lock, key, and the entirety of the palace’s security?

Unless she’s the one who did it.

He wondered if Zuko had considered that. It would make sense. Azula was incredibly powerful and too manipulative. Sokka could still remember his anger on the day of the eclipse, her haughty, satisfied face glaring at him, goading him, teasing him. How did he ever fall for that?

She was entirely capable of murdering her own father, and to be honest, Sokka wasn’t even sure if he could blame her for it. From his understanding, Zuko had a shitstorm of daddy issues and the man had been mostly ignored by Ozai. What would it have been like to be raised by…he shook his head.

What was this? Sympathy?

Sokka clenched his fist before turning around back to his apartment in Republic City. He couldn’t be stupid about this. Some people are just born monsters.

Azula unwrapped the ripped sheet from her neck and started spitting on the sanitary parts to clean off the dried blood. She was debating on the eleventh way she could have mutilated that woman when the ferry stopped, shifting in the water, and causing the firebender to almost keel off the top bunk. Her room had remained empty besides the smell of toddler piss and her own blood. But there was a small mirror on the door of the cabin, and Azula hopped down to it to properly tie her kemben. The drops of dried blood were barely apparent against the red fabric. Her fingers grazed across the small slit on her neck. It was shallow, blood smeared away to reveal only her ivory skin and a small red line. “Bitch.” Azula glanced down to her feet. They were calloused and tough—a consequence of being a martial artist—but she hated how impoverished she looked.

You are though.

Azula shook her head and combed through her black hair, sweaty and damp from the restless night. Her whole being seemed hollow, pulled tight, and she had to push back her vanity, her need to be absolutely flawless. She hadn’t been that way in years.

A knock on her door told her it was time to deboard, and Azula jumped at the chance to find that woman and her fucking family so she could show her who she had messed with. But they were lost in the sea of would-be laborers, clothes all torn, faces grey and ragged and only brightening at the sight of Cranefish Town before them.

Azula followed their line of sight, expecting to see the small village she had once known, and was completely gob smacked. Though nothing compared to the Caldera, this Republic City had a dichotomy that struck her. The skyline was small but growing, architecture she recognized from both her homeland and the expansive Earth Kingdom. There were floods of businesses passing out leaflets of their products and opportunities, and many of the TransMoCo’s passengers gathered towards them, especially one man who seemed to be holding a cabbage of all things.

She ignored them all. There was a large dirt road that led off from the harbor to what seemed like the main path to the city. Azula flexed her fingers as she started her descent off the ferry and towards the shores of Republic City. Her body felt revitalized with the rising sun, and she buried all thoughts of finding that woman. She was not worth the energy of her derision.

“Miss! You look like you would be great with children! How about…”

“Young lady, I daresay you could be a model. We do painted advertisements. Have you ever…”

“We sell knives! All kinds of knives! And you, little lady, can keep 60% of all…”

She raised her hand, stopping the fire from escaping as vendors kept harassing her and blocking her way. “I’m not interested.”

The buffoon who suggested a modeling career seemed unperturbed and followed her down the dock and onto the main harbor. “But I can tell. Your face. It could start wars. If we just clean it up a little…” The mustached man actually touched her cheek.

She smacked his hand away as if she were batting a fly. Her voice reeked of venom. “Don’t touch me.”

“Pardon my persistence.” He ran a hand through thinning brown hair, and Azula swallowed back her disdain. “But you are truly a beauty. If you aren’t interested in advertising, perhaps I could…”

“Eska! There you are!” Another hand reached for her shoulder, dragging her into a large hug. She couldn’t catch the face of the man who had swarmed her, but his grip felt loose, yet protective. Azula caught on quickly. This was apparently some attempt at chivalry and given that she was attempting not to be her, she allowed the man to white knight. Her chin dug into his muscled shoulder, arms stiff-straight at her side at the impact of his chest on her rather thin kemben. She could feel his muscles against her with each and every inhale, and his tunic felt rich and soft against her dry skin. Her chi was boiling, rocking, and she wracked her mind. This stranger’s voice was too familiar. “I’ve been waiting for an hour! How was the Caldera?”

He moved back from her, hard chest no longer suffocating her body, and her chi froze over. That goofy grin. The shaved sides and silly, short ponytail. His blue eyes blinked, confused, and it seemed he was trying to place her face as well. Had her appearance changed that drastically?

Sokka’s did, but he was still incredibly recognizable to her. Always had been even if she pretended to barely remember his name. He seemed to be taller, shoulders broader, muscles finally showing the level of swordsmanship she knew the man possessed. She would be a fool to underestimate his strength simply because he couldn’t bend. If anything, she had always admired non-benders. The way Ty Lee had developed her own fighting style. Or how Mai could practically turn anything sharp in the room deadly. Sokka—though absolutely no match for her—was a warrior worth some regard.

She must have been smiling for Sokka only seemed to brighten. The cloud in his eyes vanished, making them astoundingly blue against his tanned face. His hand brushed the scabbard on his hip, and Azula stepped back on reflex before realizing that the threatening gesture was not for her.

“Come on, tell me! A week without seeing my girlfriend and you’re all tight-lipped?”

Girlfriend? Her face contorted for a second, but her prior harasser seemed positively dismayed by the statement. “The Fire Nation capital was truly magnificent. The best city I have ever laid eyes on.” She waited for the realization. Her answer. Her voice. Surely one of those things would have triggered his memory. But Sokka’s expression didn’t change. He kept his arm wrapped around her and dragged her away from the nearly crying man, shit-eating grin still on his face.

“Thank you.” It was a struggle not to run. Every instinct in her body was begging to fight or flight, but Azula pushed the feelings down. His arm was still snaked over her shoulder, too strong and warm for her liking. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t expect to be harassed like that.”

“Not a problem.” His gaze was focused onwards, and his smile faded to an unrecognizably serious expression. “Though I’m sure you could have handled that.”

She shrugged him off and stopped the walk towards the city to bow. “You have been…kind, but my family is expecting me and…”

“Oh? Iroh’s here?”

Her blood ran cold. She glanced at him, halfway through her bow. The smirk was back on his face, eyes glinting in the orange sun. The bastard. He had recognized her immediately, hadn’t he? She fell out of her bow and adjusted her kemben, heart for some reason hurting. Her first reflex was, of course, to light him on fire. He couldn’t chase her if he were burning, but Azula was too fascinated by the fact that he wasn’t attacking her to act on her instinct. In fact, besides the sword and boomerang, Sokka seemed all too casual. Her hands fell to her hips. “Why are you here?”

“I live here,” Sokka argued. “Most of the time anyway.”

“You live at the docks?” She raised an eyebrow and held her hand under her chin, examining him. “Surely a war hero could do a little better than that. I always imagined you had some nice box in an alley.”

He sniffed, laughing more than offended by her it seemed. Weird. Sokka stretched his hands upwards, arms flexing. “It’s too early for a fight, don’t you think?”

“It wouldn’t be a fight. I would decimate you.”

“Physically? Yeah.”

She was shocked at his admission. Azula had expected some proud, sloppy diatribe of how bad and downright evil she was. But the Water Tribesman just yawned, incredibly too cavalier with her. Weren’t they enemies? She supposed he needed reminding. “Good, I’m glad you…”

“Verbally though…” He wagged a finger. “A different story. Half of me is sarcasm or didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t,” Azula deadpanned. Seeing that Sokka had no inclination to get aggressive with her, Azula walked around him and towards the city. The path was rough, and even with her calloused feet, the rocks hurt. She bit down and quickened her pace, though it was too slow to stop the man from following her.

“Do you need a place to crash?”

The offer threw her. She paused, dumbfounded, and looked the man up and down. There was no lie apparent in his body or face. The sword was still out of his hand, and Azula looked for the trap. There must have been one. “Who sent you?”

“What?”

“Someone sent you.” She turned back around. “I’ve almost been murdered three times this past week, and I’m in no mood for a fourth. Especially with you. Now, who hired you so I can go ahead and burn them to…”

“Wait, what? Azula, you’ve…”

The princess snapped around again, voice harsh and making the man cringe. “Don’t call me that! They’re clearly looking for me! And if you aren’t trying to kill me, you should be trying to help.”

Sokka paused in his movement and scratched the shaved part of his hair. It was a bizarre style. No top knot. No beard. The Water Tribe citizens were true brutes. “I thought that was what I was doing.”

Her mind didn’t know how to react to this situation at all. The dehydration and lapse in herbs must have made her brain nonfunctional because for one thing, she had admitted to needing help. And for two, this man who she had almost killed forty times over was offering to. She itched for a reason, the rationale behind Sokka’s actions, and it came to her like a rush of stolen air. “Zuko sent you.”

He snapped a finger. “Bingo.”

“Why?”

Sokka paused. His normally quick mouth seemed weighed at the moment, and she noticed his lips pull together, thinning. “Your dad is dead.”

And there. There it was. Everything and nothing blowing up in front of her. What was once her world and her pain and her lifeline snipped and snuffed out of her life in four fucking words. She clenched her fists, attempting to find the strength that was rapidly leaving her body. Her knees wavered, faulty, loose from his words that couldn’t be true but then why would he say them at all?

“Azu…I mean…hey, do you…are you…”

She shook her head. Her neck hurt. Her chest constricted, and she leaned back, almost falling until she found Sokka’s chest behind her. He smelled like salt. Like Ember Island, which was weird and wrong because he was the antithesis of anything Fire Nation. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Done.” Sokka grabbed her hand, settling it over her naked stomach. It felt cold against her, steadying against her naked heat. Her heart flipped, uneasy, unnaturally so, and he held her tightly as they walked forward. “Let’s also get you some shoes.”

Chapter Text

Okay, so, this was about the last way he thought this would go down. And he had thought he came up with every permutation of outcomes. He’d scenario-planned all night, even outlined in remarkable, illustrative detail what potentially could occur, and nowhere—nowhere— did he have he and Azula, casually walking down the street, shopping for shoes.

He also realized that not only does Azula have sort of small feet, but also horrendous taste when it came to clothing unmandated by Fire Nation regality. The princess, completely barefoot, held up a chunky red loafer and handed it to him. Whatever sadness she may have shown before was completely absent from her face.

“Buy me these.”

“You sure?” He pressed his luck. If he had learned anything since seeing her—hair cut short, face dirty and worn—it was that he didn’t know how to act. This woman sparked a hatred in him at one point in time—still did, actually. He saw her and saw the girl who killed Aang, who attacked and locked up Suki. He saw a crazed prisoner in a padded room and tried to reconcile those memories with the woman beside him.

“They’re perfect. The modern style implies that I can wear them in most situations, and the heel suggests an elegance without sacrificing my fighting ability.”

“I don’t know. They just seem...”

“Impractical?”

“Ugly.”

Azula’s eyebrows lifted, but the girl remained impassive. Her nose seemed to rise as she said, “Excuse me if I don’t consider you a style icon.”

“Oh? I have impeccable taste.”

She pointed flatly to his hair. “Disagree.”

His anger for this girl flourished. Not only was she downright bad, but she was also a complete brat. “Excuse you? This is a warrior’s wolf-tail. It’s the hallmark of a true man of the Southern Water Tribe.”

“True man?” Her gold eyes finally released a hint of emotion, and Sokka’s scowl only deepened when he recognized it to be laughter.

“Yes. A true man. Say what you want, but it’s better than whatever pointed beard-art the Fire Nation has.”

Azula let a small smile mark her face. It was weird seeing her without makeup, though to be honest, Sokka had never realized the fourteen-year-old princess had always put on lipstick pre-Avatar and mother hunting. The complete impression of her now was strange. She seemed…younger this way even though she was five years older. No, younger was the wrong word. Harmless? Innocent?

He sniffed at his own thoughts too loudly and drew the princess’ attention. “I’ll take these too.” This pair of shoes was completely different—deep red still but flat and flexible. Fighting slippers. “And no, these aren’t meant to be stylish.”

“Only practical.” He took the second pair of shoes. “You only need one pair.”

“My father just died. I thought you’d be a little nicer.” Her voice was dispassionate, emotionless, and her whole persona made Sokka uneasy.

Her wit had always been sharp. Sokka knew that. She had more humor and sarcasm in her pinky than her brother possessed in his whole body, but now it seemed unstable, less confident. Her arrogance had waned in its foundation, and though it bothered the warrior, he felt no need to dig any deeper. What he’d uncover would probably be an absolute shitshow, and that was not a part of his job description.

“Fine. Whatever.” He pulled out the yuan from his inner wallet and passed it along to the stalking salesperson. Sokka had initially dragged Azula to the closest shoe store from the harbor, girl still shaky until she found the goods unsatisfactory. The princess seemed to snap back and insisted on going to two other stores until this last one finally satisfied her bad taste in footwear. Sokka was just sort of glad this would all be over with soon, and that essential stores like these were open at 7am in the morning. “Last time I suggest you get anything, by the way. Here.” He handed the fighting shoes to her, but Azula ignored his gesture and reached for the slightly dressier pair. The pick surprised him, and Azula noticed as much.

Her lips pursed. “Should I wear the other pair? Are you planning on fighting me now?”

“I’m going to leave that one up to you.”

“What a good errand boy. Zuko must be proud.” She practically purred and slipped the loafers onto her worn feet. “So, where is this box you live in?”

“You’re really going to come with me?” Sokka blinked at the woman, still expecting a ball of blue fire or flash of lightening at his head. “Just like that?”

“No, not just like that, but I have a proposal for you that I rather discuss in private.”

“Well if that’s the case, consider it denied.”

“So quickly?” Her lashes fluttered, still thick even without any makeup. Sokka swallowed at the look of her. She was shorter than his sister, but still managed to convey too, too much power. Lack of arrogance his ass. “Then perhaps this is where we part.”

He grabbed her forearm to stop her from turning, and Azula immediately stiffened. He felt her body warm, her bending still powerful and flooding, but Sokka remained his hold. “Like you said, I’m a good errand boy. I promised to take you home.”

“You’ll be ash before we leave this store.” Her eyes, liquid amber, stung at him, face visceral and all at once displaying the anger and torment she had kept hidden since the dock. “Let go of me.”

He did, silently, and held the slippers up as a taunt. “I’m still not ready for a fight.”

“Then listen to me.” Azula said, authority flushing back.

“It won’t…”

“If you agree to help me, I’ll come with you.” Azula swallowed. “Willingly.”

Sokka lowered his voice. The salesperson had left soon after the transaction, but they were still in public. “You could be arrested as soon as we get into the Caldera.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to tell her.

“I know.”

“Zuko plans on disinheriting you.”

Her eyes became wide, shocked, and he knew this would be the information that would lose her. She had wanted that throne. Wanted it more than a family or friends or…

“He hasn’t already?” The princess shook her head, apparently oblivious to the dumbfounded look on Sokka’s face. “Idiot. He’s entirely too testing. Does he plan on pissing on the throne next? Ceding the Caldera to that idiot’s bear?” She scoffed and glared back up at him. “I’ve heard enough. Take me to your box, and we’ll come to some sort of arrangement.”

She was not impressed by his apartment, even though it was in the nicest part of Republic City, had two bedrooms, and a water pump that brought in fresh hot water on command. The princess didn’t say anything, but it was still entirely too obvious. The grim fall of her face and shoulders was more than enough to clue Sokka in. In fact, whatever bite she seemed to have vanished after they left the shoe store and started the short walk to his house. It was strange, leading her there. Her eyes were glazed, only focusing on the road and sometimes an interesting building. The sight would make her chest rise, her breath catch, and Sokka reminded himself that however worldly Azula made herself appear, she had never been to Republic City before.

The apartment he rented was in a new construction. The outside and interior walls were all made from dark timber from the South Pole. He thought it was beautiful in both familiarity and appearance, but Azula didn’t comment. She didn’t mention the patterned tile lobby or the ornately carved staircase. Her silence meant, however, that she also didn’t complain when Sokka led her up and up to the top floor. His apartment was at the end of the hall—an expansive gift from the landlord—and he shook out the silver keys, hand fumbling with the lock.

The heavy door creaked open after moments of struggle. “Um, well, this is it.”

Azula pushed past him, shoulder knocking him into the doorframe as she searched his cabinets. Giving up, she took a dirty one from his small kitchen counter, rinsed it, and pumped the tap before approaching him again. “Here.”

Sokka was still leaning against the doorframe. “Huh?”

“Please take a sip.”

His eyes narrowed but he took the glass from Azula’s hand, taking a long gulp and handing it back to her. “The water supply isn’t poisoned.”

Her face tightened at that. He must have said something unexpected (what had she expected exactly?), but Azula recovered quickly and downed the remaining liquid. She moved back to the kitchen immediately and pumped more water for the small glass.

“I have an iced pitcher in the fridge.”

“Hot water is better for you.” She eyed the stone kettle on his stovetop. “May I?”

That was too polite. It was off-putting and he felt the urge to say no for pure spite. She’s someone’s sister, daughter. She’s not just a monster. Her reaction to her father’s death would have been too good a lie—even for her—if she were the one who killed him. The shock was pure, and Sokka would try, try to give the princess the benefit of the doubt, if only to make his life easier. “Um, okay.” He finally managed to remove his body from the frame and lock the door behind him. Sokka absentmindedly threw his keys into a blue dish Katara had given him and thudded inside, eyes stuck on her and what she was doing.

The astonishment must have been from seeing her act completely normal. Azula had deftly removed her heeled loafers at the front door and was casually boiling water. Barefoot. Comfortable. In his kitchen. The scene was…unnatural. Disturbing even, and Sokka ran a hand through his hair, loosening his wolf’s-tail in the process. “You…uh…you okay doing that?”

She lit the stove with a flick instead of using the igniter. “No, it seems to be too complicated for me.”

“Lighting a fire? Thought it would be.”

Her body twitched at his remark, but Azula didn’t comment further. “Your home is filthy.”

Though it really wasn’t. Sokka despised any sort of disorganization. His second bedroom was flushed with papers and notes and drawings, but even in there everything had a specific place and pile. The living room and kitchen had simple furniture and even a few furs imported up to make the entire place incredibly homey. So, yeah, he hated washing dishes, but other than that, Azula had no right to complain.

Palace-born taken out of the equation, the princess was a mess. Her kemben was stained with blood and oil. Her pants were too short, and her hair had been butchered to a third of what he could remember. The exposed ankles and arms were matted with dried dirt, and though he would never, ever tell her (firebending notwithstanding), the princess reeked of sweat and piss.

The kettle rang, and Azula extinguished the flame and poured herself a cup of piping hot water. She devoured it greedily, not even waiting for it to cool. “Do you have any clothes I could wear?”

“You won’t like them.”

“Are they dirtier than this?” She huffed at Sokka’s shaking head. “Then they’ll do just fine.”

He went to his room quickly and wanted to slap himself behind the shadow of his closed door. This girl was nuts. Dehydrated. Bloodied. And still entirely too audacious for him to deal with. Why am I even doing this? Sokka steadied his hands on his knees, chest rising in frustration.

You promised Zuko.

He undid his belt and tossed both of his weapons on his bed, accepting that Azula had no intention of killing him. Not yet at least. Sokka needed two more meditative breaths before reentering his living room, green bundle in tow. Azula was sitting with her eyes closed, legs crossed, in front of his low-height tea table. Her hands were hollowed around the stone cup she had most likely cleaned out, seeming to almost absorb the heat.

His bottom lip fell when she opened her eyes. She was…still regal. It didn’t make sense. She was dirty and bloody and pee-stained, but she stood with an almost elegance as she approached him. Azula reached over to take the clothes out of his hands. “Hopefully, this will suffice. I’ll ignore the color palette.”

“Well, can’t say that I have an array of options for you, but you should at least be her size.”

“Her?”

“Suki?” He waited for the recognition, but of course it didn’t come. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? My girlfriend? The one you not only ambushed but sent to the Boiling Rock?”

“Sorry, who? I can’t remember all the battles I won.” The grin was half-amusement, half-malice. Her voice was a low whisper, eyes cat-like. “Oh, you mean the one that made you pin me against a wall?”

He involuntarily flushed. He had spent some time with the princess after that. Plenty of time when they had searched for her mother, but it was always that memory that popped first whenever he heard her name. Not her saving them from that spirit or how she had almost lost it on Ursa, but that single day. That horrific, fuck up of a mission. She was the reason it failed. Her and her baiting and that cocky, maniacal grim. The image was eidetic—Azula’s body against the rock wall of the tunnel, eyes glowing in the dark, and his pure blinding rage that was begging him to hurt her. His ears drummed, rushed with blood. If it weren’t for her, his plan…

“You’re really too easy, Sokka.”

She hadn’t said his name since they met again, and he half-thought she didn’t even remember it. The word fell from her lips easily, confidently, and he didn’t like the shiver that swam down his spine, residual anger for this girl coiling in his gut.

He would try to forget it, somehow. For Zuko and Suki. He would try to forget how absolutely horrible this girl was and just think of her as a mission. A charge.

Sokka fell back on his own couch and pulled a polar bear dog fur over his body. He exhaled, torso tight from the sound of the faucet running in his bathroom and the rage that bubbled, threatened to spill over. She’s not as bad you think. She’s not as bad as you think.

…

Why did that thought feel dangerous?

Azula could die in this tub.

It was large, for one thing, and made of pure white porcelain. She had noticed a glass container of coarse, white salt on the sink’s counter and added a little bit to the waterfall of boiling water. The solution did wonders for her skin, scrubbing off the dead layer of cells she had accumulated for years and making her fresh and flush and feel entirely like a person again. A woman even.

It didn’t escape her how strange all of this was. After her…mental collapse, she rarely thought about the male half of the Water Tribe siblings, though she couldn’t say the same when she was actually hunting for the Avatar. Besides Aang, and eventually Zuko, the Water Tribesman had been her biggest concern. Both twelve-year-olds were too young to properly strategize, and the other girl was far too much of a bleeding heart to think of any battle plan. She knew Sokka had been their tactician. An idiot in person, maybe, but she couldn’t fault some of his methods. Not wholly, anyway.

The day of Black Sun, for example, had potential. Though he had clearly underestimated her abilities without firebending, if she weren’t, well, her it could have worked. The distracting raid on the capital. The ability to find her father’s underground safehouse. Sneaking the Avatar in to assassinate him. It was almost perfect.

That we have in common.

Her eyes flashed open, her success of that one day suddenly countered by her greatest failure. She had everything she had ever wanted. Crowned Fire Lord. A nation at her beck and call. Power. Respect. But she had still lost it.

Why?

And the soft whisper answered her, coddled her. Voices in her head were not a good thing—she knew that; she had vials for that—but the dragon seemed to hug her brain tightly, warmly, a focused embrace. That is not your destiny.

She…she knew. Deep in her bones, she had always known the throne was never for her. Was that what made her want it even more? She had never really lacked for anything. Clothes. Toys. Friends. And when she finally was given the one thing she had wanted, she had lost everything else in the process.

Father is dead.

Her heart was wrenched crooked even though she despised the man. He was everything about her that she hated and regretted, and that resemblance was why her mother couldn’t even look at her. Azula bit her lip, murmuring, “This is supposed to be relaxing.” She had done too much “self-reflection” in her banishment to waste time with it again.

Instead, she covered her short hair with lilac-scented oils (debatable why Sokka had that on hand) and continued to scrub her body raw. Whoever had washed her while she was half-poisoned and fully unconscious had done a lackluster job. Azula removed the dirt from under her nails, between her toes, and it felt like hours of grooming later that she was finally satisfied. She kept the tub warm with her bending before pulling the plug to the drain. She watched the water swirl down, clean, pure still even after she had tainted it. It was an element she would never understand.

Sokka’s razor was on the counter, clean and new, but Azula dipped it in disinfectant before rubbing the ends of her hair straight. Her cut was now blunt and solid, her bangs slightly angled to brush against her cheekbones. It was almost nice in a way. She had never had hair this short before, and her body already felt lighter, though it would be hard to pull back for a fight. Azula scrubbed the counter clean—too used to hiding her tracks, maybe—and slipped on the green yukata and undergarments. It smelled…strange. Not like her or salt and she had to think it was that Kyoshi Warrior’s scent all over it.

Sokka arched his head over the couch, the sight of steam and the creaking door probably cluing him in that she was finished in the bathroom. His face was red at the sight of her, and Azula, rightly confused, dipped her head to the side. “What is it?”

“Nothing, um, did you cut your hair again?”

“I borrowed your razor.” She didn’t apologize for its use. It was clean enough now, but apparently her answer was unsatisfactory. Azula always considered herself a people person. She could predict how others ticked, how they would react, what they were thinking by a simple look on their face. Sokka, however, was unreadable, seemingly torn between attacking her and…and… “You’re flustered.”

“I’m…what? No!”

“What is it then?” She smirked. He really was too easy to tease. “Never had a girl over?”

“Do you count as a girl?”

She held back the argumentative reply, opting for a different strategy as she touched her collarbone. “Want me to prove it to you?” Azula was satisfied with his reaction. Sokka squirmed off the couch, loosening the wraps around his forearms and slipping off his fingerless gloves. 

He ignored her completely and went to the small kitchen. Something red and bubbling was on the single burner. The warrior stirred whatever concoction he had made, too focused. “The clothes you’re wearing should be evidence enough about that I’ve had someone over.”

“This smells by the way.” Azula held up an arm to illustrate. “Have you had this thing washed? Or do you…” She stuck out her tongue. “Don’t tell me you purposely…”

“What are you getting at?” The burner seemed to flare with Sokka’s temper, and she flicked a finger at it, cooling it down. He clearly was not a master chef.

“I’m told that sometimes men like to keep objects that smell like their significant others for…lascivious purposes.”

“Lascivious purposes?” He laughed at her word choice, but what was she supposed to say? The mere thought was disgusting enough. “No, Azula. I did not give you something from my spank bank. Despite being from an inferior nation, I do have a little class.” He turned off the stove with a dial and took out two bowls that she hoped were cleaner than the dishware on his counter. She highly doubted it. “And I take insult…” The look on his face was all trouble. “…that you presume this is only a man thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on. We’re adults here.”

“I don’t like you.”

Sokka flinched, almost spilling whatever he was making, but turned to her with a wide grin on his face. “I didn’t say I liked you. Just that we’re adults. And it’d be naïve to think that women don’t masturbate.”

“What?!” Her neck and cheeks were burning. What was this idiot saying?! “Why are you…”

“Though gotta admit, I think this must be some fever dream, right? You didn’t kill me on sight. You’re wearing Suki’s clothes. I’m cooking you spicy pork while talking about lascivious activities…didn’t you try to electrocute me last time we met?”

“Hardly.” She was grateful for the sudden topic change. “If I wanted you electrocuted, you would be…”

“Electrocuted. Got it, Miss Bad. I almost ran out of chili paste but hope this is spicy enough for you.” He sat a bowl and chopsticks at the end of the table where she had drunk her hot water. The rice was soggy from too much water and too much sauce, but the pork looked tender and well-seasoned.

Azula’s stomach growled unwillingly, and she sat down in front of her dish and picked up the pair of chopsticks.

“Oh wait.” Sokka picked one of the juicier pieces of meat from her plate and annoyingly chewed. “Not poisoned.” His mouth was half-full. “In case you were curious.”

“How kind.” She didn’t hesitate to start eating as the Water Tribesman went back to pour himself a bowl. The meat and vegetables were surprisingly cooked well, with the right amount of fire flakes and sugar to balance out the meal. Azula thought about asking why he was so good at this, and why he had made a Fire Nation dish no less, but her brain shut down the idea immediately. Casual conversation was over.

“So.” The buffoon continued to eat with his mouth open. Sokka sat down across from her, half a pig seemingly dangling from his mouth. “Are you more stable now or is it just a good day?”

“Both,” she answered honestly, though she didn’t know why she thought she owed him that. Perhaps it was because she would have wanted an honest answer as well if their roles were reversed. This was something too important to keep hidden, and Sokka, despite his overall ridiculousness, had a level of rationality that Azula sometimes missed. “It seems fair that you know what you’re dealing with.”

“You mean “who” and yeah. Glad you weren’t, uh, offended.” His blue eyes looked downwards. “I don’t really know proper etiquette for…”

“Don’t baby me. I’ll admit that at one point I was in denial concerning my…health, but I’m not one to ignore problems. Especially when they interfere with my goals.”

His eyebrow arched. “And what are your goals exactly, Azula? I wasn’t there when you started kidnapping children…

“That was one of my mistakes.”

“One of? What were the others?”

“Trying to become Fire Lord.”

Sokka’s laugh was hollow, forced. She could tell his body tensed at the statement. He thought it was ridiculous. A lie. “You’re saying all the right things…”

“Are they? Good. That must mean I’m somewhere on the right track. Excuse me for being misguided for a large portion of my life.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “I was an impressionable child.”

“That’s hard for me to believe.”

“Is it? Did you not look up to your father?”

The recognition in Sokka’s face was the only answer she needed. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes sharp and discerning when they made contact with her face again. It was too cutting, really. Something in his eyes looked deeper than pure empathy, and it made her body inch back. Sokka coughed as if to straighten himself. “So, what is this? Attempt 3?”

“You could say that.” It was strange to categorize her destiny as attempts, but his logic was sound though his face disbelieving. She set her hands flat on the table. “Do you think there’s a point of no return?”

The question clearly threw him, but to the man’s credit, he didn’t drop her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“For me. For anyone. Take Zuko, for example. When he was hunting you down, threatening your life…did you think any act would sway him to be in good favor?”

“No,” Sokka said easily. “I didn’t.”

“You think the same for me?”

She knew the answer before he said it, and even now, Sokka chose to only nod, blue eyes pure ice and cutting. He decided to speak after a moment and set his chopsticks to the side. “It would have to be something spectacular.”

“Sorry?”

“For you,” Sokka explained. “It would have to be public and spectacular and unselfish. Anything else would just be a waste of everyone’s time.” The words were heavy, harsh, and seemed to drill inside her. Azula waited for the joke to follow, but Sokka only cleared his throat and asked, “So, what’s the plan this time?”

“Oh, just a few killings.” She stopped the motion of her chopsticks at the sound of him choking. Azula smiled and took a long look at her newly self-manicured nails. “Not what you had in mind?”

Chapter Text

“Zuko.”

He didn’t move from his balcony’s railing or turn to face the woman’s voice before her hands were around his arms, hugging him deeply. The mask of the Fire Lord evaporated at the sensation, and he felt his body heave, breath rapid and short.

“Shh.”

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t even be sad about this.” He shook his head, top knot already loose, golden crown by his bedside. His hands clenched into fists. “I shouldn’t…he was a monster.”

“He was your father.” Ursa turned him around and placed a piece of dark hair behind his ear. “You have every right to mourn him.”

“I don’t…it’s more complicated than that. I don’t know how I feel.”

“Is it close to something?” Her hair was tied back tightly in a bun, and she looked entirely too much like his little sister. “Your emotions…what is your mind telling you right now?”

“That I should bury him in an unmarked grave.”

His mother retracted behind him. The Fire Nation was starting to finally gain a bit of winter’s chill, and Zuko felt it completely. The Caldera was still humming below him—all bright lights and people, his people. He had done everything he could to protect them, to guide them from a life away from war and domination, but he did not know how they would handle this.

There were still naysayers to his rule. Though he had no obligation to read them, every day he seemed to receive letter after letter from some citizen who claimed he was a usurper. Banished prince seeking revenge. Suck-up pacifist. Scar-faced puss--

“We will honor him as we do every Fire Lord.” Ursa placed her hands on the balcony beside him. His mother looked distant. It happened often, ever since he, Aang, and Azula had found her again and renewed her memories. Surely this place brought back the worst ones back and to the forefront. It did for him too. Her gold eyes seemed to gaze past the city and the Caldera. She was heavily dressed. Long red cloak. Thick silks. But Zuko still saw her shiver and her body wane. He had seen this too often.

The Fire Lord touched her shoulder. It was still sometimes weird being able to do this, to have people in his life besides Iroh that seemed to want to be near him. Zuko no longer ached to know her whereabouts, to be assured she was okay. It was a hole that had been filled years ago, but there was still discontent, a lack of closure. She must feel even worse. He attempted a smile but was unsuccessful. “We’ll bring Azula back here.”

“You have a lot of faith in that man.”

“Sokka?” His lips flitted. “I would go myself but…”

Ursa raised a hand, long fingernails perfect and round. “I’m not questioning your decision. Azula would run from you. We both know that. Your friend is very capable.” Ursa paused. “And charming.”

He cringed, his roast duck dinner threatening to escape. “Mom…”

“You’re so easy to tease sometimes, Zuko.” She touched his cheek, lovingly, but the gesture and the words reminded him all too much of Azula again, and he flinched from her. Ursa did not reach back. “I know your sister will come back.”

“I don’t know what to do with her when she does,” he admitted. The decision ate at him. He needed to disinherit her. He knew that. He held the Fire Nation and his people too highly to risk their well-being, but did she deserve to be locked back in a cage?

She had seemed more stable three years ago, if what she was saying could be deemed true in the Lion Turtle crypt. This was after she had been exposed as the perpetrator of the wide kidnappings throughout the city, masquerading as mythical Kemurikage. She said she had done it for him, to make him a stronger leader. That she didn’t even want the throne anymore.

 Azula always lies.

He knew that. He did. She was a liar—a great one—and though Zuko hadn’t seen his sister since, he saw how much his mother missed her every day.

And he expected her to defend her daughter. To tell him to show sympathy, mercy, but she was half-way to his door, candles almost burnt through the wick when she said, “Azula will make that decision for you.”

“Can I at least go back to my bedroom? Grab my sword?”

Azula rotated the remnants of her soup in the bowl to create a tiny red whirlpool. Of course, even after an admission to commit murder, the girl was unflappable. “Why?”

“If you’re really serious about this, I can’t let you go.”

“Then come with me.” She looked up from her bowl, head seeming to rise at his utter frustration.

He was so tightly wound, muscles feeling roped and strained as he steadied his body against the table. What is with her? She was truly bizarre to him, a contradiction. All formality and grace and then, then just saying things like that?

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I have no reason to become an evil psycho today.”

“Before this ends with you burnt to a crisp and all your earthly possessions on fire, would you allow me to explain? You’re supposed to be some sort of politician now.” Her words were eerily calm. Azula tilted her head, and Sokka really, really regretted not keeping his boomerang on him. “This is what we call 'parleying'.”

“Like you have much experience with parley.”

Azula held the edges of her green robe between two fingers. “You don’t give me enough credit. My conquering of Ba Sing Se was completely bloodless.” She paused, rethinking. “Until the end.”

His teeth gritted. The temper and rage Sokka tried to keep away was starting to trickle out. “You killed Aang.”

“Temporarily. That must count for something.”

“You should still be locked in a cell. You should…”

“My father died in his cell, didn’t he? And given his age and the condition I’m sure Zuzu let him live in, I must come to the conclusion that he was murdered.” Her finger tapped on the table. “Am I correct?”

“I don’t know who killed him.”

“Of course, you don’t. That’s not important. What is important is that I’ve been poisoned twice this week and then faced an armed assassin.”

She had figured it out then. It wouldn’t take much for Azula to, he knew that, and Sokka let his body relax. He was curious, after all, what the princess would do with the information. “Zuko’s been receiving more threats as well.”

“Someone’s trying to kill all of us, and they’ve already succeeded in one. I’m only suggesting that we try to even the score.”

“No.”

She groaned, calm façade shattering if only for a moment. The princess straightened and replaced a black bang behind her ear. Her haircut, Sokka realized, though a similar length and style was nothing like Suki’s. Even in Suki’s clothes, Azula was the antithesis of the Kyoshi Warrior. The princess was all sharp edges, bold lines, and angles. A cut of black and white, which contrasted greatly with the green yukata. The color seemed to bring out the yellow in her eyes, making them somewhat duller, the normal warm gold hue looking brass and all too metallic. Azula stretched up on her knees, body fidgeting only slightly, but Sokka could see it.

She was a pressure cooker. Controlled. Bottled. Her emotions were bridled, a strapped down wild komodo rhino, who she was trying so, so desperately to tame. She cracked her neck and swallowed. “I’ll be gone by nightfall then.”

“Azula…”  

She paused from standing, and Sokka took a sip of his own meal, not really expecting her to give him the opportunity to say anything. It surprised him, to be honest. Her willingness to hear him out, to want to work with him. They had no real basis of, well, anything besides concrete animosity. Azula tilted her head to the side briefly and stood upright. Back straight. Head unbelievably high for a woman her size. “I don’t beg, Sokka. Nor do I explicitly need you for this at all.”

“Then why are you asking?”

She shrugged but did not move to sit down. “I’m tired of fighting for scraps. You’d be a sufficient benefactor.”

His lips twitched. Something in her voice was different. She was entirely too flippant. Sokka tried to match her. He leaned back, resting his arms on the back of the couch. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?” Azula sniffed and touched the edge of where her hair brushed her cheek, seemingly unused to the feeling. “I simply know who’s trying to kill Zuko and who already killed my father. Think what you want, but you can either join me or end up following me. You know those are the only two scenarios.”

“How could you even…” Sokka paused.

Fuck, she was right.

Of course, she was right. He couldn’t just go back to the Fire Nation without a princess and knowing that his friend was still at risk. I could just take her. I could bring her back and make her talk.

But…could he? Actually? He promised Zuko he wouldn’t fight, and looking at her now, Sokka knew even if he did, he would still get his ass kicked. His nails dug into the wood behind him. He could think of a way out of this. That was how his mind worked, after all.

This is Azula.

And, shit, she was so, so good at this. She always had been—seeming to out-master him plan after plan. Like war strategy was her hobby. Probably is. Sokka clenched his jaw, eyes staying locked on the princess. “Fine. You got me.”

“I do?” She sounded doubtful.

“But no killing.”

Annoyance flickered across her face. “You make it sound optional.”

“It’s always optional. Look at Zuko.” Sokka gestured forward, nonchalant. “Look at you.”

Her face remained impassive. “You can’t lock these people up. They’ll find a way out and redouble their efforts once they are free.”

“How would you know that?”

“I worked for them.” Azula frowned. “Some I even trained.” The princess bent down suddenly, knees back to the floor, yukata becoming tight as her body shifted shape. Sokka watched as her whole demeanor seemed to cool, face somehow softening even though her words were like ice. “I’ll do you a favor.”

“A…a what?”

“And you’ll pay me back. Right here, right now.”  Her tongue flitted over her lips. He wasn't sure why he noticed that. “I need you to go out and buy me some things. No questions.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He wanted to catch her eye again and attempt to read her, but Azula’s head was uncommonly downcast. She shifted in her kneeled position and said, “And I’ll let you decide what we do with them.”

Sokka absorbed her words slowly. There was…honor behind it. She was giving him power, control, and she absolutely hated it from the twitch in her lips. “And if I say they don’t die?”

Her gold eyes ensnared him as she looked upwards. “Then they don’t die.”

She had given him a scroll and wrote down neatly what she had needed in perfect, even ink. The list was easy, the ingredients flowing from her mind to her hand like a memorized poem.

10 ounces soy beans.

8 ounces gingko.

8 ounces gotu kola.

4 banana leaves.

1 mortar and pestle. As small as possible.

3 vials. Pocket-sized.

1 red lipstick. Beeswax only.

The last one was unnecessary, but Azula couldn’t resist making the fool do something a little extra for her. She had given him a lot, more than she thought she would, more leeway than she had given anyone, really.

You’re growing soft.

She wasn’t sure if that voice was her own or not.

While Sokka continued to be an errand boy for the Royal Family, Azula invited herself into his second bedroom. She needed to sleep. Her time on that ferry had been brutally restless, and though she wouldn’t dare attempt to sleep in the peasant’s actual bed, she only assumed he had some sort of decent quarters setup in the third room.

But she was wrong. The guest bedroom was not a bedroom at all but some sort of study. Bookcases made of that same dark, carved wood were built into the wall, beautiful in their craftmanship though stylistically simple. A long desk sat in front of a window with the curtains drawn, most likely to protect the older books inside.

Azula first glimpsed at the books before even attempting to make sense of the paper-strewn desk. They were meticulously organized by author and subject matter, topics ranging from engineering to classical history to—strangely enough—poetry. Her eyes stopped at a specific section. History of the Fire Nation. She recognized the copy. It was a textbook, the same edition she had when she studied at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Next to it was another book, same title but the author was unfamiliar. She picked it out and thumbed through the pages, scowling as she saw sloppy text marring the margins.

“Idiot.” Azula slammed the book shut and moved on to the desk. There were large sheets of paper, most of them with crude drawings of who knows what. Others seemed to be schematics. There were dimensions and arrows and math running longways, most attention seeming to be on a long cylindrical type structure with cartoonish lightning bolts on one side. She eyed it curiously.

Isn’t he a politician?

The room had weapons, books, and an abacus, but Azula failed to see what should have been Sokka’s day job in the disarray. Though there were a few maps, there was no outline of trade routes or political borders. There were no rewrites of bills or vetting of advisors or anything that could be potentially useful to Zuko.

Azula felt her chest tighten. She needed her vial soon. It had been too long without it, and though she was better today, the vomit and lack of sleep would eventually upheave her body chemistry. She needed to distract herself, and she decided to return back to the two Fire Nation history books. Sokka had also scribbled diligently in the familiar textbook, his words almost impossible to decipher. She had flipped to the honored tradition of hunting dragons when she became distracted by Sokka’s crude drawing of a dead dragon face and the simple note next to it.

             Counter text, page 318.

Azula flipped the other text, and sure enough, the passage was concerning hunting dragons, though the wording and context seemed completely different. Dragon hunting was an honor, not a sign of her great grandfather’s madness or whatever this book was attempting to allude to. She flipped deeper in her old textbook, and Sokka’s notes littered every page, sometimes blatantly calling facts or figures wrong.

The entire chapter concerning the Air Nomad army and war tactics was one big, angry ink circle, and Azula, frustrated by his buffoonery, opened the other text to that section.

“The Air Nomad nation was originally a small group of monks and their followers. Their travels represent not only the philosophical belief in freedom but also their compulsion to disseminate their beliefs across all four nations. A theocratic society, the Air Nomads typically led peaceful, tranquil lives in four major temples when not traveling via air bison.”

Azula swallowed.

It had…it had always bothered her. It didn’t make sense after meeting Aang, after knowing Aang could not even kill her father. What sort of army could monks build? What would even be their strategy, their tactics? And how could the Fire Nation ever deem them a threat necessitating genocide?

That wasn’t the reason. Azula had known it, though it was never said as such in her school. The massive wipeout was to kill Aang, to stop the Avatar from bringing peace to a worn-torn land. The counter text, as Sokka called it, was exceedingly accurate in its characterization of what she imagined Aang’s upbringing, and as she flipped, the same resounding truthfulness could be found on notes on the Caldera, on Fire Fountain City, on things she knew to be fact.

You should read it all.

Her fingers hesitated. She needed to sleep. That was more important. She already knew she was brainwashed—her education would have been just another facet of it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, yet for some reason, it was. She moved to a cross-legged position on the floor, back flush against the bookcase, and continued to read.

She didn’t hear Sokka come back until he was in the room with her, cloth sack dropped at her feet. Her body didn’t move to greet him, though she did eye the bag, weighing it in her head to see if he had gotten everything from her list.

He coughed loudly in an attempt to get her attention. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make sense of this.” Azula flipped the page. The room seemed suddenly more crowded with another person in it, and distracted, Azula finally decided to close the book. “Who wrote this?”

Sokka squatted down and took the book from her gently. “Cho Ahn. He was a famous Earth Kingdom historian. Known for being incredibly unbiased. Found it…enlightening?”

She ignored him and took the bag from the floor to take inventory. Her hands felt for the small circular case of lipstick, and she popped it open. The deep red color seemed to flood the room. “Thank you.”

He looked at her, face firm and disbelieving. Sokka was inches from her, and she could tell he was staring. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and she felt absurdly naked with him so close and looking at her like that.

Then why aren’t you moving away?

Azula swallowed and did just that, taking the entire bag and pushing herself to stand. Sokka finished placing the books back on the shelf and took a quick glance across his study. “So, you were just…”

“I was looking for a bed.”

“That would be in the other room. You tired?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You look tired.”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing.” He smirked, goofy and in all ways irritating. “I would never imply that you look like shit. How would that be for a start to our partnership?”

Partnership?

“You can take a nap while I pack. Where’re we headed to first?” He was already turned away from her and rolling what looked to be one of his more detailed maps.

“Omashu.”

“And our target? Earthbender? Some sort of general?"

“Merchant. I can’t very well sleep if you intend on making so much noise. You sound like a beast.”

Sokka froze in his movements over his cluttered desk. His tone fell flat. “I’ll try to rein it in. You know where the couch is. I’ll be quiet on my way out.”

Azula hated being dismissed so easily, but her bones were sagging with exhaustion, and at the sight of the couch, she chose to forget his condescending tone. The traditional wooden base was covered with knitted pillows and cushions. An ornately patterned blanket was thrown over the top, beautiful and raw to the touch. Azula set the cloth bag under her new makeshift bed. She could do her vials later. It was rare that she’d find a moment where she could sleep in peace, and she wasn’t sure when that would happen again.

Chapter Text

He woke to a knock on his door. No, knock was too courteous. Someone was trying to completely break his door down, and Sokka scrambled for his tunic, nearly banging his toes into the bedframe as he moved. He swung the door open forcefully, and the girl on the other side looked at him, arms crossed, equally annoyed.

Sokka rubbed at his eyes and groaned. This wasn't the face he really wanted to see. “What?”

“We should be leaving.” Azula looked him up and down, gold eyes narrowing. “You aren’t ready.”

“Has anyone told you your observation skills are top notch?”

“How can that be possible? I thought you were simply packing.”

“Really. Almost prodigious.” Sokka yawned and turned away before he had a chance of being lit on fire. “I’ll need a few.”

She stayed in his doorframe still in the green yukata, and Sokka practically cringed from the memories the image triggered. Azula had somehow manipulated the cloth sack into a makeshift backpack. Her hair was tied in a short, thick ponytail, bangs still out and angling her face. “Hurry up.”

“Hurrying, princess.” He was still half-asleep from his nap, and the title didn’t sound nearly as sarcastic as he would have liked. Sokka didn’t like being watched, especially when he was rushing. He needed to make sure the maps didn’t bend in his sack, or worse, rip from the whetstone he used for his jian. He layered a slightly warmer coat over his tunic. If they were headed to Omashu, it was bound to get cold, and Sokka sighed at the realization. He took one of his shorter cloaks and tossed it towards the door.

Azula let the fabric fall at her feet, not bothering an attempt to catch it. She picked it off the floor with a stretched foot. “Is this how barbarians pack?”

“You’ll be cold.”

“Firebenders don’t get cold.”

“And waterbenders don’t get wet?” Sokka just continued to pack. “Look, I won’t pretend to understand your chi thing, but wouldn’t it be, I don’t know, less tiring if you didn’t have to maintain your body temperature?”

He expected something biting and equally sarcastic, but Azula only dropped the bag and slipped the blue cloak on. It almost went to her ankles, the shoulders too sagging and practically enveloping her. She blew her bangs out of her face, slightly disarrayed from the motion, and Sokka couldn’t help but laugh.

Azula furrowed her brows. “Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry. Right, I’m ready.” He finished belting his sword and attaching the leather holder over his back for his boomerang. Azula didn’t wait any further. The princess left his bedroom doorway and put on her slippers, already unlocking the door.

Sokka wanted to make a joke. She seemed…heavy, even before the too-big cloak. The rigidity he normally associated with the princess seemed to triple as they left his apartment and were back on the streets of Republic City. The sun was already down. He had slept way, way longer than he had expected, but his body was completely drained. Probably because of her.

She had no idea where they were supposed to go, but still Azula attempted to lead the way. She glanced at inns, komodo dragons, ostrich horses, anything that could get them to Omashu. Sokka jogged forward, sword clanging, and touched her shoulder. She turned with a start, eyes large, and Sokka curled around her. Azula was warm. Her whole body seemed to burn this constant heat that Sokka could feel even through the layers of her robe and cloak. It coiled, swam through him from the light touch, and he adjusted his fingers, gliding them over the indentations of her shoulder blade. She avoided his face, tense under him. Sokka swallowed, words for some reason hard to cough up. “You okay?”

“…I’m fine.”

“Anxious?”

Her head flitted up, embarrassment flashing for a moment. Azula curled her lips, newly dyed the same crimson of the lipstick he bought. “No.”

“Okay.” Sokka didn’t push it. “We won’t find a ride here though. Transit Center’s the other way.”

“Transit Center?”

“Believe it or not, your brother did bring some sort of organization to this mess.” Sokka turned her around, still allowing her to be in front.

She sniffed. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

Sokka scratched his head. His hair was still loose from his nap. “I may have helped too.”

“This is supposed to inspire more confidence?” Her acerbity was back and full forced, and Sokka did not want to question why that made him feel relieved.

Familiarity. That’s it.

He knew this Azula. He could predict this Azula. The manipulative girl with exploding arrogance and the actual ability to match it--that was something, strangely, he felt more comfortable handling. She moved lightly through the thinning crowds, every so often glancing back to see if she were still headed in the right direction only to feign that she was always headed the right way when Sokka not so subtly suggested otherwise.

The Transit Center was a dome shaped structure made of solid rock. The ostrich horses and komodo rhinos were lined in the front, either asleep or eating. Sokka glanced for an open carriage but nothing seemed to be outside.

Azula paused towards the stone path leading towards the entrance. “Impressive.”

“Is that more sarcasm or…”

“I thought you were mostly sarcasm.” She smiled. “Take the compliment. It won’t happen again. Now where are we supposed to hire a carriage?”

“This way.” He broke away from his position behind her and went inside. The dome was high-arched, a mosaic of red and green tiles in different hues bleeding towards the glass top. Azula glanced up quickly but made no affirmation of her approval. Sokka scoffed; she was right. He should take whatever compliments she gave. The open walls had large counters that would normally hand out tickets for carriages, ostrich horses, and other modes of transportation. But the center was barren. There were few people walking through the building and glancing up at the architecture, but any type of employee was left to cleaners and guards.

He led the princess around the loop again, double-checking, until she tugged on his coat to turn him around. “No one here can take us.”

“No, no. I probably just…”

“Your idiocy lost us a carriage. It lost us time.”

“Idiocy?” Sokka took a step towards the princess. The tension was back, strapping in, setting his shoulders back and tall just so he could attempt to handle himself.  “I’m sorry I was so exhausted after dealing with you for less than a day.”

“Dealing with me? As if I’m the one who was incompetent enough to waste precious time napping.”

Sokka blinked. “Azula, that’s literally what you did. You asked if you could take a nap. Stop freaking out for a second, okay? We’ll get there.”

“I know we’ll get there.” Her arms crossed tightly over her body, ridiculous over the bags of fabric of his cloak. “But are you forgetting that someone is out there, right now, trying to get me?” Azula’s voice strained low to not echo their conversation through the building, but Sokka could still hear the grit, the rawness.

She’s scared.

It hit him like ice water, and the thought was immediately countered by disbelief. Azula did not get scared. Azula was ruthless. Cruel. And even now that was what she was trying to display, a coldness that made Sokka second guess his first assumption. She looked at him, face teetering, hands rubbing her arms rapidly. Azula scoffed at his silence and walked out of the dome, so suddenly that he had to almost run to catch up with her.

“Hey, hey! Wait a second!”

She slowed her pace by the outside hitching posts, more likely due to traffic and crowds then his shouts behind her. But whatever. He’d take it. Sokka tapped her shoulder again, but Azula shook him off, angry. “Don’t touch me.”

“We’ll get to Omashu.”

“How? You intend to walk?”

“No…”

She tapped her foot, frame shaking, even as she watched him untie the small, leather wallet he kept in an inside pocket of his coat. He didn’t know the market value for an ostrich horse, so he poured out what was probably three times the price and shoved it into a nearby stable boy’s hand. The young boy looked at him dumbly, bangs wet with sweat. “Um…”

“I need two ostrich horses. Tell their owners I’ll return them when I come back to Republic City.”

The boy scrunched his face. “Are you kidding? They’re not for sale. My boss will hand me my own bu…”

He flashed a small piece of parchment from his wallet, the normal power he would feel evaporating from how annoying this whole situation was. “My name is Sokka from the Southern Water Tribe, and current councilmen and ambassador of Republic City and the Fire Nation.”

The boy snapped the piece of parchment out of Sokka’s hand. It was most like a business card—Sokka’s name and temporary title all scrawled out with a small seal from Fire Lord Zuko. “This seems fake.”

“It isn’t.” Azula’s rough voice sounded behind them, and the boy straightened to attention. “Don’t you even recognize him? He’s one of the heroes that helped the Avatar.”

“Him? Isn’t he sort of scrawny?”

“Hey!”

“He was even scrawnier before,” Azula offered. “Look, we need two ostrich horses. You have the Fire Lord’s seal as well as double your life’s worth in yuan as collateral, and we don’t even have to offer you that.”

The boy stuttered. “You…you don’t?”

“Diplomatic immunity.” Azula was already sizing up the animals and gestured to two who looked well rested down the line. “Tack those two up immediately. We’re already late.”

The boy said no more, clearly motivated by her tone and demeanor, and Azula’s stern lip faded into a satisfied smirk watching him run for a bridle and saddle. She gestured a hand towards their new steeds. “A good use of your power.”

Power?

He felt…dirty for some reason, though technically Azula was completely right. He had diplomatic immunity in every nation, and though he sometimes used his card to skip lines in tea houses or libraries, he had never done anything like this.

“It’s necessary,” Azula said flatly, eyes briefly darting to his face. “Don’t throw up over it.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve done worse things than this.”

And he knew she was right. He wasn’t guiltless, and his mind immediately went a million and one places to worse things he had done. She’s being specific. There was something on the tip of her tongue, and Sokka wanted to pull it out of her but was too distracted by the rough reins thrusted into his hand. “Here you are, Avatar hero.”

There was resentment in his tone, but Sokka thanked the boy anyway and led his new ostrich horse out to mount it. Azula was quick to follow, robe and cloak gracefully swaying as she pulled herself up and on to the beast. Her nose crinkled. “These beasts stink.”

“Guess who picked them?” He clicked his tongue and applied a bit of pressure to get the ostrich horse moving. The word Dandelion was etched into the animal’s saddle, and Sokka groaned. He was sure Azula wouldn’t make fun of him for that. Of course not.

“Are you sure your arms can handle this type of ride?” She trotted up next to him, bangs loose but still framing her face perfectly. Her pale skin looked almost blue under the night sky glow, and Sokka strained from looking upwards—of remembering Yue and now Suki and— “Not too scrawny?”

He fell out quickly from thoughts of exes. “They may be scrawny, but at least I’m still…wait, what did you call me? A…hero?”

“Everyone calls you that.” Azula fixed her shoulders back and shifted. A robe wasn’t meant to be ridden straight-saddle, and he could see her attempting to cover too much exposed thigh. “You’re obnoxiously cocky.”

“It’s not cockiness if it’s deserved.”

“Oh, I doubt it’s deserved.”

There was a flicker there, unexpected but bizarrely familiar, and Sokka was dragged back to his apartment. “That almost sounds lascivious, Azula.”

She turned to him, her face one complete threat, and galloped off, leaving Sokka in literal dust. Maybe he should keep track of how many times he should have been set on fire but wasn’t.

 They were off any sort of sleep schedule. Leaving at night would do that, but the cover was necessary, she supposed, both for her “partner’s” rest and her anxiety. As much as her prior life in the Kemurikage involved slipping and darting around at night, she despised the dark.

It was only natural for a firebender. She operated best in high sun and summer, even when it was blistering and the humidity felt like a warm, encroaching fog. They were still relatively south in the Earth Kingdom, but Azula felt the aridness around her. She glanced up to the moon, half full, and tried to feel some sort of energy from it. It reflected sunlight, didn't it?

Sokka was intent on looking at her, most likely expecting she still wanted to burn him to death and not knowing she never really intended to. Yes, he had been in her way, and yes, she would have killed him if he had stayed in her way, but that was the past. Their objectives were aligned now, and Azula knew better than to dispose of an ally too soon.

They dismounted six hours out of Republic City. Azula was already red and bruised from her saddle. Useless robe. If they traveled all day and most of the night, Omashu would only be about four days away. And then what?

Finding Fui Long would be easy. He would know his assassin failed, but her immediate need to dispose of him would still come as a surprise. His shop was prominent in Omashu, and if he wasn’t there, there was always his home.

Killing Fui Long, if it came to that, was barely anything worth planning. The man was a cabbage in both shape and strength. Azula knew there would be no problem when it came to the final deed but figuring out why he was after not only her but her family was quite a different story.

It bothered her. The pieces didn’t completely fit together. Fui Long had worked with her father and made a not insignificant fortune selling wares to the Fire Nation’s army. Why kill him? They had wanted to crown him. That was the whole reason why she…

“You gonna help?”

Her eyes refocused. Sokka was in front of her, bags open and revealing two bedrolls. He tossed her one aimlessly, though it still managed to fall straight into her arms. She glanced around the makeshift campground. The clearing was fine. Far enough from the road so they wouldn’t be bothered. There was no cloud in the sky that would give them sudden rain, and rations were already lined up in front of the kindle and small firepit.

“With what?”

“I figured I shouldn’t waste my flint. Unless it’s too much effort for you.” Sokka gestured to the unlit batch of sticks, and Azula punched straight forward. Blue flame poured from the motion, sparking the wood instantly before cooling into a soft orange glow. Sokka crouched down near the heat. “Thanks. I rather not eat in the dark.”

“The moon is bright enough.” Azula snatched her portion of food—some sort of dried meat—and ate eagerly. It was disgusting, but starvation won out. She expected some sort of reply—sarcastic, most likely, though she was being civil enough in some false attempt at trust building—but Sokka was just silent.

He picked at his food more than ate it, and the sudden awkwardness made Azula’s skin crawl. She wasn’t good at this. The Water Tribe man usually had some sort of retort, some way to keep the conversation alive, but now he seemed lost in his own head.

Does that bother you?

No.

Well, it did. But only because besides being an absolute moron, he was easy to talk to. And manipulate, though everyone really was. The former she found to be rarer. Her barbs were either too sharp for other nobles or the nobles were too soft for her barbs. Sokka, though unbearable in most ways, at least had the brain capacity and spine to argue back.

She finished her jerky, the silence continuing besides ear-wrenching sighs and looks of utter pathetic-ness. That’s it. Azula raised her hands to the fire, and it jolted alive, blue bleeding from its center and scaring Sokka to attention. The man jumped and shrugged off his coat, sweat lining his brow already. “What are you doing?”

“Getting your attention.”

“How exactly?! By attempting to burn me?”

“If I wanted to burn you…”

“You would have burned me.” Sokka growled and sat back down. His hair was tied-back again in that silly short ponytail, but he slowly unwound the wraps over his wrists and arms, the heat obviously reminding him what he was wearing. “Do you know how painfully miserable you are?”

“I’ve been told. But I’m also painfully effective. Now that I have your attention, would you like a debrief of who we are actually after?”

The annoyance was still on his face, but Sokka nodded and continued unpeeling the wraps. He did it mechanically, agile, and well-practiced. She glanced to the sword and scabbard lying next to him on the ground. She recognized that hilt, knew it from Zuko’s own training with Piandao, and wondered, briefly, what it would be like to fight Sokka without her fire.

You may get a chance.

He hated her. That was obvious. He may joke and pull and flick at her, but the hate was there and always would be. He was only doing this for Zuko and probably his girlfriend. She was just a benefiting party. Azula straightened in her cross-legged position, cloak off and covering her too-short yukata. “His name is Fui Long. He sells cosmetics and jewelry out of one of the largest storefronts in Omashu.” Her bag seemed to pulse next to her. She was due for a dosage soon.

“Cosmetics? Why does he want to kill you? You complained about his lipstick?”

“His lipstick is derived from dirt. I would never even pretend to wear it. The cosmetics business is a front. His real cash cow is selling processed metals to the Fire Nation.”

“Out of Omashu?”

“And other locations around the Earth Kingdom. Omashu is his base.”

“It still doesn’t explain why he wants you dead.”

“Lots of people want me dead.” Azula acknowledged. “But only Fui Long is idiotic enough to attempt it with an Earth Kingdom assassin.”

Sokka nodded, seemingly agreeing with both statements, and finally began to eat his jerky. For someone who took such care folding his wraps, the way he ate made Azula want to heave. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We go to his store where he will surely be working late and kill him.”

The Water Tribesman looked at her and grunted. He swallowed the rest of his jerky with one large, loud gulp, and said, “I thought you were a strategic mastermind.”

“I am.”

“Spirits, I hope so. I mean, I didn’t lose to you on the day of Black Sun with a plan like that.”

Azula became rigid. “There’s nothing wrong with my plan.”

“I guess that’s true since it isn’t even a plan.”

The fire in front of them flared again, but Sokka didn’t flinch this time. He met her gaze, blue eyes almost purple in the reflection of her flames, and Azula cursed. “You were better when you were wallowing.”

“I was what?”

“Forget it.” She waved it off. That was not worth her time to examine. “You’re a strategist too, aren’t you?”  His eyes lifted at that, and Azula rolled her own before letting loose her hair for the night. “What? You expected me to think my brother planned your invasion during Sozin’s Comet?”

The lightness was back in Sokka’s body. He smiled, all too proud of himself. “I wouldn’t call it an invasion.”

“You dethroned the lord of a sovereign nation. What would you call it?”

“A…uh…coup?”

“Semantics.”

“Fine, well my plan would have another option. I would at least, I don’t know, think about the possibility that we don’t kill him?”

She sniffed. “You’ll soon see that isn’t a possibility.”

“Maybe. But you have to account for that probability, even if you think it’s incredibly small.” He turned at that and started digging through his pack. Sokka dragged out a long, blank scroll as well as ink and a brush. “Okay, so Fui Long. We’ll call him Metal Face.”

“Wait, what?”

“Metal Face.” Sokka was too busy drawing what could only be described as a crude, triangular mask on the scroll. “You know, since he sells makeup but really metals?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Gotta use codenames in case we lose this. I typically go by Boomerang-guy. You?”

“We’re not doing this.”

“I’ll stick to Eska. So, I’m seeing this as a two-day mission. The first day, I’ll go in and pretend I’m buying makeup for my girlfriend or something.” He draws a box around the bad mask image and then a stick figure of him, tiny ponytail and all, outside. Under the image he draws a line for the kanji one. “I’ll try to map out the layout of the store and see what security looks like.”

“We won’t be attacking him during the day.”

“Then I’ll go at night.” Sokka draws tiny stars above the so-called store. “Right before closing. I’ll wait a while outside to see what time he leaves and who’s around.”

“And where will I be?”

“You?” Sokka drew another stick figure—this one with bangs and little flames surrounding it—far in another corner of the scroll. “You’ll be at the inn waiting.”

“No.”

“Yes. You’re too recognizable, Azula. Even with the haircut. If he sees you too early, the plan is ruined.”

She exhaled, annoyed. “Then maybe we should have a simpler plan and just go together and kill…”

“That’s day two.” Sokka drew a harsh line, dividing the scroll in half. “Day two, we’ll head to the store based on what I found, and then we’ll interrogate him.”

Interrogate. This was the part of her plan that was lacking. She knew that, but she still wasn’t sure how exactly to glean any sort of information from Fui Long. She said as much to Sokka, but the man only shrugged. “I thought you’d have more faith in your abilities for persuasion.”

“I usually have leverage.”

Sokka stopped his scribbles, brush almost cracking from some flume of anger. “Then I’ll think of another way.”

But the conversation sparked a memory in Azula. “Fui Long has a family.”

Sokka ignored her and kept tapping his brush in the ink.

“I know where they live. He has a daughter and a son. If I could figure out which one he loved…”

“No.” His voice was hard, demanding. Azula would have been impressed if it weren’t directed towards her. “You can’t kidnap his family.”

“I obviously have the ability to.”

“It’s not about ability, Azula. It’s about your own limits.” Sokka shook his head. “What am I saying? You don’t have any, do you? Then fine. It’s about my limits. No kidnapping innocent people. Didn’t you say that was a mistake?”

It was. Sort of. It had the desired result, but Azula knew she could have been more use to Zuko if she were still welcome in the Caldera. She wracked her brain for another option, but nothing came. Taking Fui Long’s family hostage was simple, easy, effective. But wrong, isn’t it? Azula pushed away the thought and settled her palms on her knees. “Then think of another way.”

Sokka settled down and stretched his arms and laid the scroll out flat, the ink still needing to dry. He looked back to her, and the air felt heavy, electric-sharp, blue eyes the same hue of the inner core of a flame. “I will.”

Chapter Text

He was wrapped in a too tight hug, arms pinched to his side, chest tight and crushed. He was choking, surely. This must be some sort of revenge for chasing him across the world for years. Though he’d have to imagine that if the airbender wanted to suffocate him, Aang could have come up with a quicker and more painful way.

“I’m glad to see you’re holding up okay!”

His friend was being too nice. Even Zuko had noticed the dark, swollen circles under his eyes, the weakness in his limbs and shoulders from exhaustion and stress. It was no way to be a leader, especially a new one with a divided society. Zuko pushed his friend away and straightened his robes. “Thanks for coming, Aang. Katara.”

It was the waterbender’s turn to drag him into a bone-breaking hug, and Zuko finally just relented. He should really be used to getting attacked by his friends by now, especially these two. Katara looked at him with worry. “Zuko, what happened?”

He jolted. Zuko had invited them here to explain, to ask if they knew anything, but having to actually say it still bothered him. He took a seat at what could be considered the head of the circular table. His chair was larger, standing off the ground of the meeting room slightly more than the others. Aang sat to his right, deferential in rank only here. The rest of his friends followed their lead. Katara sat on Aang’s other side with Toph next to her. Suki went to Zuko’s left, guard duty set aside as they sat with their friends. He stiffened when he felt her hand over his. He didn’t expect that, but Suki just looked at him, pure care and worry etched in her face even through the white makeup. “I can tell them, Zuko.”

“It’s okay.” Zuko smiled at her gesture but pulled his hand away from under hers. They both straightened in their seats, and Zuko cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “Earlier this week, I went to check on my father. As you all know, this is something I need to do in order to make peace with myself.”

“We know, Zuko. You won’t find any judgement here.” Aang pointedly looked at Toph who was too busy cleaning out her ears.

The blind girl fidgeted. “I can feel you looking at me, you know.”

Katara coughed. “Zuko, as you were saying?”

It was a nice gesture. He and Mai fought about the issue constantly, but he knew, out of anyone, Aang and Katara could understand the importance of forgiveness. “I went to go check on him earlier and…he…”

“He what? Repented? Suddenly had bending abilities again? Did he apologize for being the worst father ever?” Toph asked, flippant.

Suki slammed the table aggressively and jerked everyone straight up. The noise stirred the group to focus, and Zuko was grateful for the sudden full, unadulterated attention. “Listen, this is a very stressful time for all of us here.” She tried to make her voice calm, soft, but the edge and firmness of her tone bled through. She took a quick glance at him, but Zuko shook his head.

He could do it.

“My father is dead.”

The room went still. Katara grabbed Aang’s wrist, hair loops falling around her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Zuko.”

“Me too.” Toph scratched her head awkwardly. “I know that was the original reason why Team Avatar existed, but it must have…must have been a surprise.”

“How?” Aang asked immediately. The five, almost six, years made Aang taller in both height and presence. He was the same joyful, fun-loving boy, but now there was an edge to him that demanded authority. Zuko strove to hold his own against it. “If it was a side effect of taking his bending…”

“You’re not at fault here, Aang. My father was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Katara’s pitch rose. “By who?”

Suki pinched her nose. “We don’t know. His injuries indicate a close-contact stab wound, but other than that, we have nothing. No witnesses. No suspects. The palace guard and magistrate are looking into it, but there’s not much evidence.”

She was incredibly frustrated. Zuko had noticed a sharp change in his friend’s and guard’s demeanor ever since Sokka had left. The reality of their scenario weighed on both of them. There was an assassin in the palace. There was someone clever and strong enough to not only break in and kill the former Fire Lord, but managed to do so without leaving any sort of trail. It was bizarre, terrifying, and Zuko knew Suki would be destroyed if she let anything similar happen to him. That won’t happen.

“How can I help?”

“I’m worried about my uncle.” He didn’t dare look at Suki. That wasn’t the original reason why Aang was called here. Zuko was supposed to ask him to stay, to help protect him and his mother in case this threat decided to attack again. The Kyoshi Warrior stiffened next to him, and though the Fire Lord worried his guard would reveal his initial intent, she remained silent, face only narrowing with displeasure. “Could you look after him? Bring him back here?”

“He’s still in Ba Sing Se?” Katara asked.

“He is.”

“We’ll do it! Of course.” Aang was enthusiastic, already standing to presumably go and get Iroh back right this second. He confirmed where Iroh’s shop was, and they chatted a little longer, catching up though the air was tainted with the news and dark mystery hanging over them. Zuko went over the precautions the palace was taking. The guest checks at the door, the constant examination and removal of all prisoners to other jails in the Fire Nation. It took a little more convincing, but Aang eventually was satisfied. The issue was confusing, scary, but there had not been any physical attempts at Zuko’s life. And even if there were, he was much more heavily guarded than his uncle. Aang and Katara decided to give him another back-bending hug and left for Ba Sing Se.

Toph drummed the table and waited for the door to close and their friends to be fully out of earshot. “Um, was there a reason why you didn’t tell Katara that her brother is currently on a suicide mission?”

“Zuko’s not on a suicide mission himself.” Suki let slip. “And Sokka will be fine. He’s…craftier than you think.”

“Crafty?” Toph sniffed. “Not the adjective I would use for him.”

“And what would you use?”

“Right now? Dead. Sorry, Suki. That conversation didn’t go the way you planned either, did it?”

The Kyoshi Warrior sighed loudly, and Zuko felt his spine twitch. He didn’t mean to anger her, but he could practically see a forehead vein throb. “It really didn’t.”

“With Appa, Aang and Katara can quickly get to Ba Sing Se and make sure my uncle is safe. There was no possible way that I’d leave his life at risk.”

“I know that, Zuko. Believe me.” Her hands were gloved, but he could still imagine soft skin through them as they folded over his own. Suki was in full uniform, which always held a sense of distinct power to the young Fire Lord. She turned quickly to Toph, auburn hair swaying with the motion. “Toph, could you stick around a bit longer?”

“I got nowhere to be.” The earthbender raised her feet on the table. “Though I can’t chi block Zuko while you smack him for being an idiot.”

“Don’t worry. I can do that myself.” Her smile to him was surprisingly all playfulness before turning back to Toph. “I have something else in mind. And I think you’re the only person who can do this.”

Acceptance was…confusing.

You could be told one thing your entire life, trust one person your entire life, and then—suddenly—that person was wrong and used you and maybe even never loved you, and it made you wonder if you were even capable of being loved. If you even knew what love was or only what it wasn’t.

Azula knew her mother didn’t love her. If her father, someone who she admired and trained under and obeyed without remorse, didn’t love her, how could Ursa? Ursa knew she was a monster long before Azula ever did. Ursa knew that she was not capable of normalcy, of settling for anything less than absolute perfection no matter the consequences to such. Ursa was terrified of her, her own daughter who she ignored and criticized and dismissed. That could not be love in any way.

And even if it was, somehow, why did she leave her?

She left Zuko too. She left them both in that palace, in that miserable life where she was expected to dance and serve and fight and deal with the fact that even though she was better in every way possible, she was still not as good as Zuko. Not as worthy of love as Zuko. Not as worthy for the throne.

It was a painful realization. In a moment of half-starvation and almost full-insanity a thought trickled in, and Azula had finally stopped forcing it out. And when it stayed with her, implanted in her brain that maybe she hadn’t failed but was just meant for something else, she felt…better.

“Have you been taking you medicine?” The woman who housed her was slightly older but much taller. Muscled yet slim, her body betrayed to Azula with a simple glance that she was a bender. There was a sharpness in her golden eyes not unlike her own, and though Azula had tried to place her in the Royal Courts, her mind couldn’t drudge up any memory.

“Yes, Tai Yan.” She pushed the empty glass vial forward across the low table as proof. “Thank you again.”

“Anything, princess.” Tai Yan bowed slightly and took the empty bottle from the table, replacing it quickly with tea.

The reverence had been initially unexpected. Azula was denounced, surely. Word of her insanity and subsequent stint in an asylum must have spread throughout the Fire Nation and especially here. But Tai Yan had clothed her, presented her with gifts and jewels and everything she could have ever asked for. She was the perfect loyalist. The perfect pawn.  

“Have you also been going through your meditative exercises?” Tai Yan knelt on a zabuton across from her and quickly adjusted the golden comb in her black, cropped hair. It was studded with rubies, delicate and vibrantly hued. “I did not see you in the garden this morning.”

“I thought it more pressing to practice my forms and your garden is ridiculously too small for that.” Azula sniffed before drinking her tea. It was passable. “Do you disagree?

“No! Never princess! I apologize for questioning you.” Her head bowed lower, subservient, shameful. Good.

She would let the comment slide for now. Azula needed to prepare for their meeting tonight anyway and the start of a completely new life.

She woke with a throbbing pain across her thighs and head. The memory was burning through her, and Azula covered her eyes desperately to block the cutting light of the rising sun. The night had been horrible. Sokka, when not blabbering on or pining or being an entirely irritable companion, snored so loudly that she could hear him meters and meters away.

The princess slept half-covered in one of Sokka’s bedrolls. The thing was plush with animal fur and altogether too hot even though it was the start of winter. She picked white fur off her body and silently cursed when she saw her inner thighs. They were completely bruised, some parts red and blistering from her lack of pants and the cheap, uncomfortable saddle. This will slow us down.

That was unacceptable. Though her mind had been more at ease with her vials and some (even if dismal) company, she needed to figure this out quickly. The assassins that were hired to kill her were sloppy, amateur, but it wasn’t the end of it. They killed my father. That was not a task some layman could handle.

Anxiety made her veins cold, and she raised her hands towards the sun, shocked to see Sokka not only up and awake but scribbling sharply over some parchment some distance away from their main camp. He was too focused as she approached him, blue eyes never lifting from what looked like a document of times and rows and rows of boxes. “What are you doing?”

He jumped a bit, ink splotching one of his characters. Sokka stretched out and cracked his fingers but didn’t turn to look at her. “Making a schedule. We’re…what? About 100, maybe 120 hours from Omashu?”

“We should get there in 90.”

“90?” Sokka sniffed and finally turned to face her. “No way. I learned that you need to add buffer for a trip like this.” He held up the plan to her, and Azula scanned it quickly. It was precise, well detailed. There were notes on food and water quantities and potential sources of each. Sokka mapped and ranked potential towns that would be the best for them to stop in and even had a series of alternative routes they could take should something go wrong.

She…was impressed. Manicured nails pointed at one of the words. “You hunt?”

“You’re welcome.” Sokka pointed to what looked like a dead and skinned fox antelope meters away from them both. “It’s easier to hunt in the morning, so I had to…um, what’s wrong with your legs?”

Azula pulled the yukata over her chest on reflex, but Sokka already approached her, setting the schedule back on the grass and squatting to get a better look at her inner thighs. Her face flushed, embarrassment and rage combining to one indiscernible emotion. She was ready to shove him away and insult him until Sokka stood. His face was red but serious, and the man smoothed the top of his tied wolf’s-tail before clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean?”

Sokka’s face thinned, eyes directed downwards and tracing the rough and raw skin of her body. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

She…she didn’t know what to say. The thought never even occurred to her. What would Sokka care that she was in pain? That her legs had been bruised a kilometer out of Republic City?  It was something she could deal with, and anyone else would have just expected her to. Any sleep that was apparent in Sokka’s body or face had dissipated. He cracked a shoulder and gave her a light tap. “Be right back.”

Confused by the almost playful gesture, Azula grazed the shoulder Sokka had touched and watched him almost scamper off into the surrounding woods. What does he think he’s doing? She shook her head and smoothed out his scroll and closed Sokka’s bottled ink. He was a mess and a half in some ways, but she was still stricken by the diligence of the schedule. In the corner were smaller, thinner streaks of questions, all of them with a singular focus. 

When does Azula train?

How long does she need for it?

What’s her sleeping schedule / number of hours needed?

What if she needs to go shopping again?

She sniffed at the last remark and curled her toes in her martial arts slippers. Opening the ink well, Azula took the brush and answered each and every one in small, simple kanji.

This was an unexpected, forced-learn skill of his. Katara had long bugged him on the importance of healing techniques, especially since he was not a waterbender, and though he had mostly ignored her, his sister was, if anything, stubborn. Sokka silently grabbed the mortar and pestle he had bought for Azula and took the small bunch of plants he had collected. “Marigold and wild garlic.” He answered her confused look and started quickly hammering the ingredients into a paste. “Aloe would be ideal, but hard to find in a place like this.”

She looked better today. The frazzled, anxious girl was gone after their quick nap, and Azula watched him with a calmness and curiosity. Her hair was still down, black and glossy in the morning sunlight. Sokka took his attention away from that and forced a big, heavy cloud from his chest. This wasn't a new revelation for him.

Azula was pretty.

He had always known that. She was impeccable when they first met, and her beauty only matured now that they were older. It was different now. Uncaged, maybe. A duality of sophistication and wildness that he strongly, strongly ignored.

Azula folded her body to the ground, fingers still tightly wrapped over the front of her yukata though Sokka was drawn to her thin, muscled legs. The bruises were terrible—a mosaic of dark blue and black that reminded him of the deep, deep part of the ocean. Slicing through the muted colors were rough splits of red skin, blistering and embedded. The princess, however, seemed unbothered. If she had noticed the injury at all, she acted as if it were painless, no more a nuisance than a small papercut. Sokka pushed the makeshift paste to her, and Azula dipped two fingers into the goo. She bent her left leg slightly, covering anything lascivious, and spread the medicine thinly across her skin. Sokka flinched. “You’re doing it wrong.”

She paused her motion. “I’m what?”

“You’re just irritating it more. You have to dab it. Use it thickly.”

Azula shot him a look and then lightly dabbed whatever remnants of the paste already on her thigh. Sokka bit his lip, silent, but the princess must have noticed the bothered look. He never really was good at hiding his emotions. “You do it then.”

“…what?”

She handed the mortar back to him and stretched out her left leg, careful to fold the yukata over the middle. “Did I stutter? Get it over with. We have to stick to your schedule after all.”

“That’s why you have buffer.” He had learned his lesson traveling with Aang and Toph. The look he shot her, meant to be cross and loathsome, felt only magnetic. She stared at him and it was absolutely cutting, gold eyes electric and burning and supposedly reminding him of terrible things...only it didn't. His head felt light at the contact, and he had to control his thoughts. This wasn’t a woman. This was Azula. Azula. She locked up Suki. She killed Aang. She was horrible and terrible but maybe that didn’t forbid him from finding her attractive. That was just physical. Natural and uncontrolled. That must have been okay.

Right?

It felt more than okay when he touched her. The white, unbothered skin was smooth and toned against his own calloused fingers. She was still incredibly strong, well trained, and he scowled as his hands made contact with the rougher red skin. Azula pouted at the pain, but did not flinch, and soon even that slight expression faded from her face. Sokka paused to look at her and recoated his fingers with more medicine. An uncomfortable rush began to form in his lower stomach. “This must hurt.”

Her chin rose, and she deftly maneuvered her body to give him access to her right leg, yukata inching up. “It’s nothing.”

“You’d slow us down eventually. You realize that at least?” He wanted to make her wince. Was that weird? He pressed harder into her skin, trying to elicit some, any reaction, and the thick, thick rumble in his own body seemed to only travel lower.

Azula’s chest rose at the pressure, and her fingers snapped onto his wrist. “Careful.”

He thought it was the pain, but his hand had actually drifted that much closer to the edge of her robe and softer, warmer skin. Sokka looked at her, breath heavy, and edged back his hand. “I think…yeah, I think I’m done.”

Azula stood at the comment and straightened down her outfit. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I think we’ll have to go shopping again.”

“I love shopping,” Sokka said on reflex, actual brain turned off. He shook his head in an attempt to de-fog himself. “And yeah of course. We’ll get you pants. But you shouldn’t have any friction there for a while.”

“Friction?” She leaned to stretch out her calves, robe practically slipping from her shoulders. Her skin was snow-white.

He tried to keep his voice steady. “No riding for a while. Well not that sort of…I mean, the ostrich horse. No more riding the ostrich horse.”

Azula frowned. “That will slow us down.”

“Well that’s why I always include…”

“Buffer. Perhaps it’s not the worst idea.” She moved to stretch her other leg, and Sokka watched her openly. The curve of her calf tightened and flexed at the motion, and he was entirely too distracted until she spoke again. “I train any time but for at least two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Forms and sparring.” Her eyes flickered to meet his again. “If you’d ever like to try.”

“I would.” Was he insane? What was he saying? The truth. He’d love to fight her in a situation that wasn’t life or death. He was curious if she was still as good as he remembered. Flawless, even. She’d practically outmaneuvered all of them without her bending, and with it? She was nearly unstoppable. How Katara had managed to beat her was still something he hadn’t figured out.

Her eyebrows rose. She was surprised by his excitement probably, but the shock disappeared quickly to self-satisfaction. Azula ran a hand delicately through the folds of black hair. “Good. Tomorrow then. I already cooked whatever beast you killed while you were out frolicking in the woods.”

He pushed the insult aside. “There’s a town eight hours walking from here. Let’s eat and move.” Sokka grabbed the rest of the medicine and started towards the pack. Unbidden, he turned back to Azula. The sun had finally broken the horizon line, and he was finding it nearly impossible to look away.

Chapter Text

“Next.”

This had been going on for hours. Suki’s face paint was starting to fade, but she held firm, posture even as she stood in the back of the room as one after another palace guard was brought in and evaluated. Ty Lee stood in the other corner. Their interrogation space was undecorated. No windows. No oil paintings. Just two chairs and a small, high table. The Fire Nation Palace, as a whole, was absurdly grand. She remembered when she had first visited on a more permanent basis. Mai had asked her to come on temporary assignment. It was just supposed to be until Zuko was settled, until the Fire Nation was settled with him as a leader. But that had been years ago.

Ty Lee had done some of the convincing and all of Suki’s cultural training. The captain, who had never left Kyoshi Island, had grown homesick after following the Avatar (and maybe also a different boy) across the Earth Kingdom and back. But she had seen the world, knew how fragile it was, and she absolutely could not pass on an opportunity to help it be better. Even if it had meant simply being Zuko’s bodyguard.

Which was surprisingly more than fine. She learned about a completely different culture, a culture that she had once absolutely hated and now somewhat enjoyed. She learned how to chi block and made some of the most unlikely friends—people that she couldn’t imagine not having in her life. Ty Lee examined the end of her braid for split ends as she leaned against the wall, her usual smile absent from the sheer boredom of their task. She hummed some local song, and Suki wondered, not for the first time, how someone like her had ever been her enemy.

“Cool. The truth. Bring in the next one.” Toph was the only one of them seated. The earthbender was practically horizontal in her chair, tipping it by the ends of her toes on the metal table. The younger woman was entirely too lackadaisical. Clearly she was over this situation as much as them, and Suki couldn't really blame her for it. 

Suki moved to the closed door and bowed slightly as General Mak stepped through. The older man’s pointed beard was cut short, points curving around his sharply angled face. “Thank you for agreeing to this, General."

“Of course, Captain Suki. This seems easy enough.” He moved to sit across from the blind girl and rested his hands on top of the table. His head cocked curiously. “What exactly…”

“Did you have anything to do with the assassination of Fire Lord Ozai?” Toph yawned. “Do I really have to call him Fire Lord? Seems weird.”

The general’s eyes bulged, and Suki did her best to try and catch any guilt in the man's face and body. They were usually a bit more discreet when it came to discussing the murder. Toph usually asked the guards to explain what they did the night of Ozai’s death and then proceeded to dig into excruciating detail any possible secret they were keeping from Fire Lord Zuko. Though the results had been embarrassing for some men and women, nothing had been deemed even slightly suspicious or untruthful. Though the amount of guards who had a few more explicit dreams about her boss was a little…unsettling.

But General Mak—one of Zuko’s high generals—could not be kept in the dark. Suki was tired of hiding this information, especially from people who could help her protect Zuko. He needs more than what I can do. Her chest tightened at the mere thought. If it came down to it, Suki would give her life for Zuko. That was what she was trained to do, what she swore to do. But this constant fear and guilt and anxiety…she didn’t know how to help that. The most she could do was try to find ways to protect him in every way possible. She was still incredibly annoyed that he let Aang go. There was no one she trusted more than that little group of friends besides her warriors, and with Sokka gone too, Suki felt more and more on edge.

Mak’s grey eyes met hers, begging for an explanation. Suki nodded curtly. “Ozai was murdered last Tuesday in the middle of the night. We currently have no witnesses or anyone under suspicion.”

“How…Does the magistrate…”

“Answer the question first,” Toph interrupted. “We may have a suspect after that.”

“Of course I had nothing to do with this! Why would I kill Ozai? He was harmless.”

Toph shrugged, “Old Fire Nation revenge? Zuko skimped out on your bonus? Eh, what am I saying? You’re clean. Now you can help us.”

“Thank you.” Mak relaxed in his chair, though the surprise of how easily he was believed shined a bit in his stiff frame. “I can call more troops home. Many of my men are on stand-by in Republic City.”

“The Fire Lord would greatly appreciate that. I am sure he would issue the request himself if he were here.” Suki let her shoulders fall. That would be one thing in their favor. The palace guard, though typically enough, clearly could not even secure Capital City Prison. There was a security weakness somewhere and having more men certainly didn’t hurt the situation. Troops far from the Caldera were also less likely to be involved in Ozai’s murder, which was something Suki couldn’t assume of those close to home. He wouldn’t ask Mak. Zuko—the good, but infuriating leader he was—would insist that troops stay on the growing city until all relations between the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom were stable. And with Sokka gone and Aang on a different quest, he would argue that the soldiers’ presence would be even more necessary to subsist unrest. Well, too bad.

Ty Lee stretched her arms wide, back bending in a way that quickly revealed her flexibility. “We’ve been at this for hours. Can’t we call it a day? Now that we have General Mak helping us, at least we have something accomplished. Thank you, General!”

Mak smiled in that way all men did towards Ty Lee. “Happy to help. Please let me know if I can be of any further service to you. I’ll order my men here immediately.” He bowed one more time and left the three women in the room.

“Well? Who’s next?”

Suki cracked her neck. “I think Ty Lee’s right, Toph. We’ve interviewed almost three-fourths of Zuko’s palace guard and almost half of the servants staffed that night. If you don’t mind staying a few more days, we can finish this up tomorrow.”

“Mind? Are you kidding?” Toph stretched her hands flat on the table, arms taut. Suki panicked. Toph had seemed bored throughout this whole process, and what if she decided to leave?  Suki didn't know where she would begin trying to interview and evaluate the rest of the palace residents and staff. But to her luck, that anxiety was immediately dismissed when a huge grin cracked over her face. “I love this! Interrogating people feels almost as powerful as metalbending. This is great!”

“Really? I feel like I’m getting stiff just standing here.” Ty Lee squatted in an attempt to loosen her body. “Any chance you’re free for a quick training session, Captain Suki?”

She technically wasn’t on duty for another few hours. Yet there were still aspects of the throne room she needed to check, and she hadn’t seen Zuko in the palace all day. It made her uneasy. “I should really check on the Fire Lord.”

“Eh, he’s fine. Mai’s here,” Ty Lee said offhandedly.

Suki blinked. That was…that was good, wasn’t it? “Well, there are a few gaps in security in the entrance hall and dais that I…”

“I think you should blow off some steam.” Ty Lee practically skipped towards her. The fellow Kyoshi Warrior tapped Suki’s nose. “You’re wound up.”

“I’m not…”

“You are,” Toph agreed. “Is it because of your doofus ex’s suicide mission?”

“He’ll be fine.” Maybe if she said it enough, she’d actually believe it. She still had some scars from her last and only fight with Azula. Safe to say the exiled princess wasn’t her favorite person.

“Nah, it’s because of Zuko.” Ty Lee made an overexaggerated wink, eyelashes fluttering and causing Suki’s skin to prickle. Her white makeup, though sweatproof, was surely going to smear soon. “Suki takes her job pretty seriously.”

“Good thing she does. Someone needs to be concerned about Zuko’s life and it sure isn’t Zuko. At least make sure he doesn’t die before his crazy sister is disinherited. Or he has kids. Whichever’s first.” Toph jumped up from her seat and rolled a shoulder. “I guess since Mai’s back one of those things might…”

“We should work on your acrobatics. It’s hard to do in this uniform, but I think that’s a big hole in your repertoire.”

Toph snorted. “Why would you need to learn that as a bodyguard?”

“It’s a useful technique for dodging and defense! Especially against certain weapons. Like throwing daggers, stilettos, shuriken…”

The earthbender wasn’t convinced. “Are any of those one of the weapons that killed Ozai?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Ty Lee admitted. The Fire Nation girl grabbed Suki’s gloved hand, grinning. Suki paled at the look on her friend’s face. It was the same look when she made every Kyoshi Warrior try to apply their makeup upside down. Or when she won that bet that getting a new guard to buy her shaved ice for a whole month. It was mischievous, almost diabolical, and one of the few instances when she actually could picture this girl hunting Aang and attacking her. Ty Lee could barely contain her smile. “I just think it’d be good to know. Just in case.”

She wore one of the three pairs of pants Sokka's money had bought her in a small Earth Kingdom town. There was a surprisingly decent number of vendors, and though Earth Kingdom style was far from what she was used, it was nice to see some semblance of trade. Sokka had been giddy. While she had been left to her own devices for her clothes, Sokka had found it necessary to buy two brightly colored bags and what looked like some sort of red ferret.

That she made sure he returned immediately.

They were now two days from Omashu. Azula had insisted that they ride the day after leaving the small trading town, and Sokka, though hesitant, relented eventually once she promised to ride side saddle and delay their spar by a day. Her legs were healing quickly. They had bought more bandages and an actual medicinal that was both cooling and warm and smelled much worse than whatever homemade cream Sokka had produced. She noted, absently, that he had not offered to make it again nor help her with the new cream. Which was absolutely fine. She didn’t need help. Of course, not.

He watched her idly as she spread the white ointment on her upper thighs and took care to wrap her legs with bandages before slipping a pair of loose harem pants under her robe. She turned around briefly to remove the more feminine yukata. Her wraps were tight, full around her chest to not reveal much of anything, but Azula quickly replaced a loose green tunic over her body. It was colder today. They were slowly moving further away from the warmth of the Fire Nation, but the sun was still high in the mid-morning air. Her bending came easily, and her mind was settled, calm enough that she could produce lightning with a flick if she wanted to.

Sokka was across from her. His blue, sleeveless tunic was tied tightly around his chest, and the biceps of his arms were almost completely covered with white wraps. The leather of his gloves flexed easily as he moved his fingers, and she traced his body for any hint of weakness. He was taller now, which meant he had further reach, and his size would indicate that Sokka could produce more force, more power behind every attack than he could at fifteen.

She memorized his movements. The way he stretched. The quick bend to his back for his boomerang and how that differed from when he reached for his sword. Sokka pulled the weapon out quickly and seemed to weigh it in his hand. The metal was dark and beautiful, attractively sleek. The jian’s blade itself was completely different than the weapons her brother had trained with.

“Can I use anything?” Sokka glossed the hilt of his weapon with his thumb.

She let herself grin and started stretching out her hips. “I don’t see why not. Unless you intend to limit me as well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you even listen?”

“I would take it into consideration.”

“Wow. How generous,” Sokka sniffed and stood sharply. There was coal under his eyes and the blue of them looked deeper, even more jeweled. “How do you want to do this?”

“Tap out. No cuts. No burns. Only submissions.”

“What about head contact?” He gestured to the boomerang on his back, and she fidgeted from the memory of Sokka actually hitting her with the thing.

Azula shrugged it off. It was important, vital, to appear unflustered before a fight. “I’m sure I’ll be making plenty of it.”

“I know you love to trash talk, but let’s start this. I only scheduled an hour.” Sokka raised a hand, stopping her rebuttal. “Though I know you’ll say you’ll need less time.”

Something warm sparked in her chest, and it had nothing to do with her chi. Azula finished stretching. Anxiousness trickled through to the tips of her toes. But it felt good. A flurry of flitting energy that made her cheekbones hurt. It had been a while since she had a true, good spar, and her intuition knew Sokka would be able to give this to her. 

She fell into a wide back stance and held her hands up to block. Azula had expected Sokka to rage towards her, to be chomping at the bit at the opportunity to pulverize her, but the Water Tribesman was surprisingly defensive. His movements were different than her previous observation implied. Controlled. Quick. He slid the jian from his back with clear purpose and held the weapon almost flush against his cheek. Sokka didn’t make any attempt to move towards her.

Well, she certainly didn’t mind taking initiative.

Azula changed her footing, sliding into a front stance and sending a wave of blue flame from her right fist as she moved. Sokka easily dodged the fire, and more impressively, never broke stance or angle with the jian. He cut the blade across, close to her, but directed to break her footing and concentration. It was somewhat successful. Azula shifted backwards to avoid Sokka’s sudden attack. She ducked and shirked the pointed thrusts and fell to her shoulder, rolling so that she was behind the man and creating some distance.

Sokka turned immediately to follow her. His hand dipped to his back, and Azula steadied herself. She had yet to predict the movement of that foreign weapon. The boomerang arced through the air, crisp and hard metal, and Azula fell to the ground again, catching her own body in a plank before flipping and shooting fire from both of her fists. Sokka seemed to copy her tactic. His own larger body fell to the dirt and rolled forward, leaving them only centimeters apart. His sword had been left in the grass. Perfect. Azula could take full advantage of that.

The firebender stalked forward. On command, a ball of blue flame formed in her right hand. She could feel it prickle at her face, and it was both completely powerful and soothing. Azula wondered how she’d use it. She wouldn’t burn him. She’d abide by these rules. But it wouldn’t hurt to just give him a little taste…

Her shoulder cried with pain at the abrupt contact. The awful, barbaric weapon had somehow whipped around and collided roughly with her back. She stumbled forward, cringing with the shock, and she could see Sokka smile from the corner of her eye. His form moved quickly. A gloved hand grabbed the boomerang beside her, and though she expected him to hit her again, she instead felt hard, strong arms wrap around her torso and bring her fully to the ground.

Her back collided with a solid thud, gravel scraping at her cheeks. Sokka was over her, corded legs gripped at her side and squeezing the still tender skin of her thighs together. Azula did not flinch. She let her body fall still, lax, and Sokka tilted his head. His chest heaved against the loose fabric of his tunic, but his face was entirely triumphant. “Took you by surprise?”

“I thought you’d rely more on your weapons.” Her heart hammered, and she could feel the rise of her stomach constantly collide with Sokka’s straddled legs. Pure control escaped her. The flicker in her was fully inflamed now, a wildfire pushing for release. She glanced down as Sokka’s hands held down her upper arms. His fingertips were dry and scraping, carving against her as he pushed her into the earth. “Who knew you’d try your luck at hand-to-hand?”

“It’d be easy to burn me like this, wouldn’t it? I had to take the option away. You’re a little dangerous with your fire, Azula.”

Maybe she imagined it, but her name sounded different then. His tone was deeper. He was harried—yes—but it wasn’t just pure exertion. It was familiar, a verbal outcry of the adrenaline she was also feeling. Her chest felt heavy with the weight of his body, and she could feel his own rebound against her. “I thought you knew better,” she taunted. His grip felt lighter on her, and Azula pounced, jerking her hips up suddenly to buck the man off her in surprise. He fell to the side and scrambled to get back on top of her, but Azula was quicker. She dug her nails into his shoulder and pushed him down. Hiking her knees up to his shoulders, Azula pinned him. She could feel his ribs collapse and rise against her lower body, and she sat firmly in an attempt to hold him still. The motion caused Sokka to gasp, and a puff of hot air hit her revealed collarbone. She leaned forward, not removing her weight, and brushed a piece of hair away from his face. “I’m dangerous in every way.”

Her own breath faltered when she looked at him. His brow was crowned with sweat, and she knew she must look the same. She shivered as wind blew slowly past them, and Sokka mirrored her movement, hips curling up to remove any space between them. She tried to focus her own heartbeat, settle her own chi. Azula was normally three moves ahead in a fight like this, but her mind was only buzzing, dumbly blank. Sokka’s chest was distracting. It was warm, hard, and absolutely racing. She pulled his wrists above his head, uncareful with her scratches, and dragged her thumbs down his inner forearms, grip loosening at the feel of warmth under her.

It was an opening. Clear and obvious.

Fuck.

She looked back to his face, expecting to see white teeth and a knowing smile. But Sokka only looked…drained. His eyebrows were furrowed, blue eyes clouded and too serious and confusing Azula to no end. “Sokka?”

“I’m tapping.” He knocked the ground with his knuckles above his head. Azula didn’t let go right away, and Sokka ripped his hands out of her grasp. “Get off me.”

She…she didn’t want to. Azula let him free from her grip but still held him down with her thighs and lower body. “I didn’t put you in a submission.”

“Tap, tap.” Sokka placed his hand against the grass harshly. “I’m done. You won. Congratulations? I bet you’re not surprised.”

No. She was annoyed. This was the first time she had sweated against an opponent in ages and he would just…why would he just… “You can’t quit.”

“That wasn’t part of our negotiation.”

“You’re tapping out prematurely.” Azula lifted her leg over. It wasn’t fun anymore when he wasn’t even trying. Her bruises hurt again, and it was hard to think this spar had been worth it. “You didn’t lose yet.”

Sokka brushed the remains of dirt and grass from his clothes. He bowed slightly, recognition to the winner, and failed to meet her eye again. And though she had won, clearly, easily, a sinking part of her only felt defeated. 

Chapter Text

Okay, so. Omashu.

They were almost in Omashu and there was absolutely nothing, nothing interesting that happened on the way here. Sokka forced himself to look back at his first visit to this city. It was right after meeting Suki. It had been the first real city his South Pole eyes had ever seen, and he had been amazed. There was something in his gut that had awakened, and it was so easy to forget about snow and small huts and fish stew and penguin jerky.

The homesickness was entrenched in him now like a large, twisting splinter. It was ages since he’d seen snow, and he didn’t mean the grey slush and wet flakes of Republic City. The Kolau Mountains were beautiful, but they paled next to moments in deep winter, the flat white horizon stretching so far that Sokka had to blink to tell the difference between land and sky. It was a gradient of blue and white and grey, a snapshot of a culminating storm. And he loved that feeling—that the surface peace and quiet belied a biting severity. That the South Pole was home and familiarity but also an unforgiving bitch that made him the warrior he was today. Republic City, and tangentially the Earth Kingdom, would always be some sort of home for him, but he’d die in the South Pole. There was no mistaking that.

Azula was quiet. Sokka found that the princess often fell into silence when she was focused or tired or stressed. He knew she had left everything. No, left was the wrong word. Like Zuko, she was banished, but it was her fault. It was absolutely, completely her fault, but Sokka couldn’t help but feel…sorry for her.

She’d kill him if she ever knew that, or at least cause some sort of third-degree burn. Sokka couldn’t imagine never returning to his tribe, or his dad murdered and gone and attending his funeral would mean the rest of his life was a jail or jacket. In the past, he had wondered why Azula hadn’t left the Fire Nation earlier. She had stalked around, a ghost of a villain, and whenever her name had been mentioned, Sokka would groan and question why she hadn’t cut and run. But...where was she supposed to go? How could she just leave her home?

When they finally made it to the guards at the top of the mountainous road, Sokka flashed his passport. The Earth Kingdom guard nodded underneath his green helmet and gestured his carried spear towards Azula. “And your name, miss?”

Sokka started. He had half-hoped his name would be enough. “Oh, this is…”

“Liang.” Azula offered a hand and bowed so low that Sokka thought her forehead would touch the ground. They had rested and walked the ostrich horses from the campground outside the city. Azula had changed and washed her clothes, and Suki’s yukata was once again tightly wrapped around her small waist, teasingly visible through the open slip of his borrowed cloak. Her black hair was pulled behind her ears, and the smile she gave was small, precious, and sweet. An innocent flicker before an inferno. Sokka’s hands gripped the duffel over his shoulder. The rough cloth started to scratch into his skin, and Sokka welcomed the physical distraction.

“Welcome to Omashu, Ambassador Sokka and Miss Liang. You have…” The guard hesitated, tongue sliding across his upper lip. “Your eyes are surprising.”

“Surprising?” Azula gave a trill of soft laughter. “I suppose. My mother was a Fire Nation colonist if you must know. Apologies if they offend you.”

“Certainly not. Ambassador Sokka, I can send a falcon to King Bumi…”

Sokka bristled and tried to keep his voice even. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m not here on business.”

The guard nodded, and Sokka despised the look on his face. Understanding. Envy. Lust. Without really thinking, he snatched Azula’s hand, and though he could feel the princess stiffen, nothing in her façade showed her unease.

It was awkward though, and not only because they were leading two ostrich horses, hand-in-hand through a crowded thoroughfare. It was such a dumb, dumb thought, but Azula felt…good. He expected the feel of leather on leather, of hard skin from a too-tight grip of a fan or katana, but palm-against-palm, all he felt was velvet. His fingers moved against her, rubbing, circling over the callused ridges of her outer knuckles, and he found himself enjoying the contrast. Hard and soft. Smooth and coarse. She was raised as both a princess and a soldier, and though he had never forgotten that, the physical reminder was jarring.

“We need a place to stay.” Azula didn’t drop his hand, but she only looked fully ahead. She took in the city, the people, the alleys and stores, seemingly in a single glance. “Fui Long’s shop is only a few blocks away from this city’s palace.”

“Okay…Liang.”

Azula sniffed. “Eska is a ridiculous alias. There’s no chance I’d have any Water Tribe in me. No matter how small.”

She wasn’t…she wasn’t suggesting anything, really. He was just exhausted, brought to some weird, unforgivable insanity. His chest tightened at her words, at the too-recent memory of her over him and grinding her lithe body into his waist. Her nails were slices against his skin only tempered by the softness of her loose hair and the soft blow of her exhales. The lean, hard muscle of her legs and torso were complemented greatly by the cushion of her breast flushed against him, and it was definitely just the contact combined with the drought of his love life, but he couldn’t stop picturing it.

“Okay. Fine. That’s fine.” He tugged sharply on Dandelion’s reigns to avoid a runaway vegetable cart. This constant distraction would get him killed. Sokka really needed to be alone soon.

Her hand moved gently against his own. “You’re sweaty.”

“Oh? Ah, I’m sorry.”

“You’re nervous?” Azula asked seriously. Her head tilted up. “Don’t be. Fui Long wouldn’t be able to throw a kick up to your knees. Unless it’s about…”

The city’s hawkers and overall bustle did nothing to overtake Sokka’s own internal dialogue. His pulse thrummed hard against his throat, and he felt the slickness of his fingers, questioning why Azula wasn’t grossed out enough to pull away. “About?” He swallowed.

“The little issue of appropriate leverage. Given your ability to outwit me on…occasion, I assume you came up with something.”

Oh. Fuck.

He didn’t. He knew he was supposed to, but Sokka was too busy being an absolute idiot trapped in some self-loathing headspace to come up with a plan that wouldn’t endanger innocent people. She noticed his blankness immediately. “I can take both children. That would remove the risk that we don’t take his favorite.”

“No, Azu—Liang—I’ll think of something. I’ve never met the guy before. It’s unfair to think I can come up with a good thing to blackmail him with without ever seeing his face.”

She fell back into silence, seemingly accepting his rebuttal. He had never really expected her to be reasonable. If anything, he anticipated the opposite. Unhinged. Rabid. Irrational. Azula wasn’t always like that. That was true. She was a rational psycho before she was full-on psycho, and he remembered her shopping list and mid-morning meditation. Sokka swallowed, attempting to assuage his unease. He wanted to know more about her, what happened after they found her mother. What sparked not only this tenuous mental stability but her entirely different outlook of Zuko and her family. He opted for another thing on his mind. “Why are you hung up on a favorite?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said it before too. Why does Fui Long have a favorite?”

“Child?” She shrugged, eyes intense and staring straight down the streets of Omashu. People were thinning out as they made their way further from the gates, and what could be constituted as slums and poorer neighborhoods started to fade into larger homes and small displays of wealth. The smell of fried dough and powdered sugar tugged at his nose and stomach, but Sokka stayed focus. Azula and he were on a mission. Working together. Walking together. Hand-in-hand still. Sokka stiffened and dropped it suddenly, awkwardly. Azula didn’t seem to notice. “It’s only natural for a parent.”

“That’s not true.”

“You didn’t spend much time with yours, did you?” Her eyebrow arched but she maintained her focus straight ahead. “That or you were the favorite. Which is it?”

“Neither,” Sokka lied.

She tsked and nudged her head to the right. The inn Azula suggested was four stories tall and took up almost half a block. An array of tired travelers and excited tourists scurried in and out of two sets of wooden doors. It was not the nicest inn Sokka had stayed in, and he really doubted that it would be up to the princess’ preferred standards, especially if he were the one fitting the bill. The name was scrawled in bold, simple kanji. “You’re checking in as yourself?”

He took the reins from Azula’s ostrich horse and handed them both over to a passing worker. The young boy held out his hand for yuan and Sokka sighed. He was going to be bled dry by the end of this. “The Grand Omashu Inn. Creative.”

“It’s nondescript.”

“There are so many people here.” He felt the urge to cover Azula, move her hair in front of her face or simply pull the blue, oversized cloak over her head. “What if you…”

“Don’t act suspicious and we won’t be suspicious. Are you Ambassador Sokka or not?” Azula repeated.

It was a serious question. Azula painted her voice with annoyance, but he knew she just wanted to know the plan. That’s fair. “I introduced myself at the gates. I don’t think Bumi will come looking for me, but it’d be pretty weird if I just…vanished.”

“You’re expecting someone to look into this.” She paused at the door. A tourist held it open for her, but the young man didn’t even appear in Azula’s vision. She tapped her crossed arms, face and eyes and entire body alert. “Why’s that?”

“Your intentions.” There were at least thirty people too many to start openly talking about murder. “They’re not great.”

“Your intentions don’t appear as righteous either.”

He didn’t get it right away. He was doing nothing but following her around, and besides simply not taking her back to Zuko right away, he had pretty much stayed on task. “How’s that?”

She was languid as she pushed herself inside, easily side-stepping a constant throng of tourists, cloak moving with her body like the curl of a wave. The lighting inside the inn was abysmal. There were too many people huddled in the common room, blocking windows and fireplaces. She could hide her face easily here, and so could he, if he wanted to. But he stood by his past decision and told the innkeeper behind a hard, stone desk that he was Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe.

“Oh, wow, I mean, uh really?” The older woman behind the desk paused and slid her eyeglasses down her nose. “Well, you certainly have the right look. I’ll put the name down in our guestbook. Though next time bring the Avatar.” She winked. “That’s worthwhile publicity. You and one other guest?” The woman rocked sideways to take a glance at Azula. Her dark hair shrouded the majority of her face.

“That’s right.” He kept his voice steady and grinned seeing Azula calm. He wasn’t that bad of a liar. “Two guests.”

“One or two beds?”

“One.” Azula forced out quickly. The arms across her chest grew tighter, and she looked like she half wanted to explode.

He spasmed, jerking and stabbing himself on a rough edge of the rock countertop. Sokka bit down the yelp. “Yes…yes, one, please.”

“First time?” The woman merely shrugged and handed him a set of iron keys. “Don’t worry about it. She looks clean enough.”

“Why thank you.” Azula spat.

The innkeeper smiled, unaffected or unaware that she was one bad word away from a punch in the face. “And it’s not the type of news I’d like to bring here. You keep to your business and I’ll keep to mine. That’s 200 yuan for the night. I’ll knock it down to 100 if you promise to bring the Avatar with you next time.”

Sokka fumbled for the money. His muscles weren’t working. He felt sloppy, disjointed, and Azula soon grabbed 500 yuan from his hand and placed it soundly on the rock counter. “I’ll need two nights with him. And we appreciate your discretion.”

“Professional. I like that. Third floor, fifth door on the right. 309.”

Luckily, the stairs were before the broader bar and common room and they could slip past the nearly bursting downstairs to their room three flights up. The hallways were another thing completely. Entirely too narrow and loud, and he felt his head ring. Sokka jostled his backup in an attempt to distract himself from the yells and footsteps from the neighboring rooms. Azula dangled the iron keys before slotting the larger one into the door marked 309. They chimed as she jostled the lock open, and Azula entered first and took her slippers off.

The room itself wasn’t bad. Average in size and bed. There was no bathroom, which probably meant there was a communal one somewhere in that narrow hallway. He expected Azula to denounce the idea and be utterly repulsed, but if the princess noticed, she said nothing. Instead, she slipped off the blue cloak and folded it slowly on top of the bed. The green yukata looked…dizzying as it slid down her arms, sleeves bunching by her shoulders and making it seem like she would be swallowed by a bloom of ivy. The windows were closed, and her features were shadowed in the soft light. Grey painted her cheekbones, her neck, her collarbone, and Sokka struggled to keep his posture straight. Communal bathroom. Shared bed. No privacy.

Right.

“The thought of sleeping next to me must revolt you.” Azula pushed the bed closer to the far window to make more space between it and the door. “You can put your bedroll there.”

“You’re not…” What was he doing? “You’re not revolting.”

She jumped. It was not easy to surprise Azula, but there she was, looking surprised and strangely flushed. “That may be the case, but it still doesn’t change this.” The words felt thick, humid if words could ever be called that. But he thought it and now it was there and stuck and why was he associating everything she did with something hot?

“Why one bed again?”

“Because Ambassador Sokka decided he would be traveling around with some strange woman.” She cracked a shoulder. “That’s who I am. I’m forced to be some nameless nobody through this, and the only nobody a politician would associate with is a…”

“I get it. Don’t…don’t call yourself that.” They only needed one self-deprecating member of this two-person team, and it was definitely going to be him. He unrolled his new bed in the space Azula left and sat to untie his boots.

Azula followed suit and sat on the real bed. As Sokka seen often, the princess crossed her legs, flat and tight, and closed her eyes. Her breathing was rhythmic, deep, smooth, and familiar. Aang had done a similar exercise every morning when they had traveled together and always ended his sessions looking twenty times more awake and enthusiastic than when he had started. It was a lot to be the Avatar, and even more to be a twelve-year old Avatar with your entire people completely wiped out by some fascist warlord.

And—maybe—it was also a lot to be the Fire Nation princess, to be a descendant of said fascist warlord, and be too good too young. To have almost an equal amount of expectation and legacy minus real friends or family or anything normalizing.

Aang had a childhood. He had friends he threw cakes at and crazy royal friends from the Earth Kingdom and even friends with terrible slang from the Fire Nation. Sokka couldn’t say the same about Azula.

“You’re staring.”

Shit, he was. His face warmed at her voice, and he immediately turned his head away. “Your eyes are closed.”

“I can feel it.” She fidgeted in her stance. “And you’re not denying it.” One gold eye flashed open, and Azula smirked, satisfied with the pained look on his face probably. Ugh. “Had your fill of how un-revolting I am?”

“Shut up.”

“That was the plan.” Her eyes are closed again. “I can give you the address for Fui Long’s store. Give me a moment.”

Sokka stretched out on the bedroll. He focused his eyes on the worn dresser, the knots in the hardwood. He looked at their packs at the door and her shoes so, so small compared to his own boots. She was dainty and doll-like but also so incredibly not at all, and he didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate her.

His brain was a mess.

“I need a shower anyway.”

“And an alibi.” She hummed in her meditation. “Unless Ambassador Sokka is looking at jewelry for his girlfriend while sleeping with another woman.”

He stood at that and actually looked at her. Azula’s posture was perfect, as if her head were strung up and up by a small string. Sokka rubbed his own hands on his thighs, mirroring her placement. “What do you mean?”

Azula groaned and dropped easily out of her stance. Her legs fell out in front of her and towards him. “I don’t intend to pretend to be a Kyoshi Warrior again. Once was enough.”

“You mean… Suki?” He didn’t know why he hesitated on her name.

Both eyes opened. “Yes.” And maybe Sokka thought most of her words were humid and sweltering, but that word was not. That one was wind-like, cut and rubbed from ice. “And I’ll not have you complaining later about how damning this is to your reputation and love life. Anyone with half a brain could infer…”

“We’re not dating.” Sokka swallowed. He was still standing in front of her, still rubbing the sweat off his hands, still feeling like his brain was a pile of congealing mush.

The silence between them was uncomfortable and filled with static. Azula was frozen in place, upper body taut. She didn’t look away from him, and Sokka wanted to break their contact. She was all shadows and gold, and it reminded him of home, of nights in an igloo, fire pit blazing and refracting against the ceiling with whisps of yellow and flame. The comparison nearly broke him.

“Oh,” she finally said, and there was no inflection to it. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you were.”

He did? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything but white nights and fires and—would he even be able to find her in the snow? She was so pale. “We’re not. We broke up a while ago.”

“Oh.” It was the same tone. Her lips glowered. They were incredibly red. Must be the makeup. She stared at him, eyes tracing, and the bad, bad goo part of his brain wanted it to be seductive. He wanted to see her wanting him, but it was nothing but analytical. Can she not tell?

It was a relief. Right? He would take a shower. It would be cold. He would think about her killing Aang and imagine her almost killing Katara, and this whatever would be gone. And maybe he said it because he needed a reminder or as an assertion, but the words just freefall. “You’re an awful person, Azula.”

She didn’t look away. Her nails dig into her skin, red forming under her grip, as she folded her legs back towards her body. “I know.” Azula closed her eyes, and Sokka quickly found some spare clothes before leaving for the shower.

Chapter Text

The idiot was probably already dead.

He somehow, someway blabbed about who he was or—Spirits no—who she was, and he was dead. She would not only have to find his dumb, dead body but also explain to her brother that it wasn’t her fault. That wouldn’t go well. She could already picture Zuko’s face, his hair high and taut in the Fire Lord’s crown. And though her older brother couldn’t hold back an emotion to save his own life—quite literally. Azula had been witness to that more than once—he wouldn’t even be angry with her. He wouldn’t yell or scream, and the idiot would probably even think twice before sending her back into a cell.

He’d be disappointed. Which was infinitely more infuriating.

She fell back at the thought. Her hair was too short, and it rubbed and tickled at her ear as she moved around on the bed. The room was embarrassingly small, unsuitable for anyone of her stature and…no. It was more unsuitable for Sokka. Sokka was…important in this world. He had clout and recognition and the ability to snap and bam. Power. And he didn’t even know how to wield it.

He’d been distant and strange to her, which wouldn’t be entirely off base if he hadn’t been the exact opposite before. Azula reached over the mattress to find the pieces of yuan he had left for her. She hadn’t eaten in a while, and her stomach was starting to grumble from the pain. She slid from the bed, settling her yukata back down and straight, and decided to leave their shared room to find some food.

The Grand Omashu Inn was only grand in size. That was what made it perfect for a mission like this. A quick in and out, shadows amongst the crowd. Why Sokka would ever pretend to actually be him Azula would never understand, but luckily, she was able to quickly think on her feet and lie for the both of them.

It was a bizarre hour—not quite dinner and much too late for lunch—and the common room of the Grand Omashu Inn was no where near full capacity. The tables were long, spanning almost the entire width of the room, with firm rock benches flanking either end. She sat and stiffened at the feel of pure, cold stone on her rear. It wasn’t close to comfortable, but she’d be of no use to anyone if she kept starving herself.

Azula swiftly took out her vial and mixed the fine powder easily into a water cup dropped in front of her by a passing waitress. Her right hand twitched as it came into contact with the smoothed mug. It felt like rocks she would find on the beach. Sanded perfect by waves. Almost reflectingly black. She wondered if waterbending could do this. If earthbending. It was simple and beautiful, and Azula chugged the water inside it before she could ponder it anymore.

“Is that a potion or something?”

There was clearly enough space at the end of her long table. There was even an entirely empty table closer to the door, but still a tall, young man with typical Earth Kingdom eyes sat across from her. Azula settled the stone cup down, but kept her fingers wrapped, nails clicking. “Pardon me?”

“Don’t tell me. You’re a…a witch?” His grin was too wide and sloppy on his face.

A joke then. Azula had enough of that to deal with already. She decided to dismiss him completely. “My boyfriend will be back soon.”

“No pretense at all, huh? Ah, okay.” He scratched his head shakily, and Azula almost felt…bad. He didn’t eye her exposed neck or legs like other men. He didn’t attempt to hold on to some unearned bravado. He was seemingly ridiculous for even thinking that he could have a chance with her, but Azula could admire someone for effort. The stranger echoed her thoughts, “Must be some guy to get someone like you.”

There was a brief flicker of panic that she had been recognized, but the momentary fear left as the guy was suddenly shooed away by a rounded face girl with thickly dyed robes. The man awkwardly moved away, doubly rebuffed, and waved to Azula faintly as he shuffled away from his seat. She felt her eyes drag to him, chest lilting. The strange girl merely huffed across from her. “How annoying. Am I right?”

This was really an incredibly odd situation. Ty Lee had once described Azula of having the same warmness of the South Pole (a comparison she absolutely hated), second in absolute frigidity only to Mai. She had never attracted company before. Why were these fools flocking to her now? She fingered her hair and took a glance at her robes. Something about this must have been too disarming. She really missed the color red.

“Guys like that bother me all the time.” The round-faced girl continued, and Azula swallowed her smirk. She sincerely doubted it. Azula could barely see this girl’s eyes above the blotchy hills of her cheeks.

Azula looked at her nails, prim. “Oh?”

“Yes. I had to save you. Like you need anything like him after coming in with that boyfriend of yours.”

She somehow managed to maintain her composure. The comment was alarming. She had no intention to be noticed, and the fact that she was noticed because of Sokka was well…unsurprising. Though objectively pretty, she should not have stood out that much. She was dressed in green and maybe had a blue robe, but her hair and skin tone could easily blend with the rest of the Earth Kingdom. Her eyes were easily hidden under a ducked head, and no one, not here, knew what the Fire Nation princess looked like anyway.

But Sokka?

Azula felt a heavy air fill her. Sokka was identifiable. No one else here would have his tanned skin, his stupid haircut. The cut of blue eyes and rope of muscles. Azula shifted side to side, avoiding eye contact. The waitress finally came back and settled a thick looking soup in front of Azula with a smaller bowl of plain white rice. She slipped a few yuan on the table. “How nice of you to say.”

“Boyfriend…I wonder who you must be? Dating a hero and all.”

Ah, that word again. Azula nearly cringed under it. She should slap this girl’s rounded cheeks flat on the table and pour her soup in her hair, but no. There was something off about her, something more. The girl laid her hands  in front of her and revealed a series of beautifully cut rings. The gems alone were worth a fortune, and the setting looked especially complicated and glamourous. That paired with the rich robes was evidence enough—this girl came from money; this girl did not belong in some shoddy, mainstay inn.

A sharp jolt went through her. This girl had no real reason to be here, and her eyes and interaction with Azula were jarring, unnecessary. Azula took another sip of her water and closed her eyes, imagined her vial coursing through her, her chi ebbing and flowing into calming, calming waves. She didn’t know yet. This could be okay. This girl didn’t look like an assassin. She cracked a shoulder and reopened her eyes. The gaze she met across from her, though ugly, was incredibly coy. And Azula eased herself into a new lie. “He’s not who you think he is.”

“He’s not?”

“No. What would an ambassador be doing with someone like me? We met in Cranefish Town. My father runs a factory down there.”

“You’re a firebender.”

The accusation almost drove her to cruelty and pain, calm shattered. Azula pursed her lips and took a spoon full of her soup, mixing it in with her rice. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re truly Earth Kingdom…you’d be mixed, and your eyes are too gold not to be a firebender. Unless you want to deny it?”

“I do.”

“Then you’re Fire Nation?”

Azula continued to mix her rice, fear stopping her from taking a bite. This girl didn’t need to be stronger than her for poison. “And why do I have to be either?”

“I’ve just…met people like you. It’s becoming more common, but no one wants to talk about it. You said you’re from the colonies so maybe it’s a hard topic. You know your dad?”

Azula didn’t quite get what she meant. “I said he ran a factory.”

“Right, right. Of course.” The round-faced girl waved her off, whatever empathy in her voice fading. “Look, if you’re a firebender I won’t judge you. In fact, I have a job for you.”

Interesting, but still highly suspicious. “Is this common for you then? Scare off boys and try to recruit the girls they were talking to?”

“Only if they’re firebenders.” She winked a non-existent eye and giggled. “Yeah, this might sound wild, but I can pay you.” She shuffled through her robes and briefly removed a thick wallet. It would be useful to have other income. Sokka could surely get more money but that would be a trace neither of them needed. “And not to be rude, but it looks like you need it. You said that hot boyfriend of yours worked in your dad’s factory? And now you’re both here in this inn…”

“You’re here in this inn.”

“Looking for a firebender. If you’re not one…”

Her heart hammered, pulled at her to lean back and run and just wait for Sokka to come back even though he was taking entirely too long. She was about to do just that when a hand rested on her shoulder. Unconsciously, she felt her body sink under it, relax under its warmth and tight, tight grip. “Whatcha doing down here, Liang?”

Sokka.

Azula exhaled, freneticism dissipating, and an unrealized weight in her bones seemed to subside. Her chi, once peaked, settled back down into her chest, cool and glowing as the man sat next to her and stole a piece of her soup-dipped rice. He smiled, ear-to-ear, and pushed the bowl towards her so that she would eat it. Damn him.

“Being harassed apparently.” She eased against him. It had been awhile since she felt like this…like someone had her back, would support her and her decisions and act with her. Sokka looked down at her briefly but didn’t lean away. His hand slowly raised and hesitantly combed through her hair. She felt the edges of his fingers scrape behind her ear, and she shivered, sparked. “I…um…this girl knows who you really are.”

“Who I really am?”

The round-faced girl leaned on her elbows, unshy. "Couldn’t take the cold and found yourself some nice hot firebender girl?”

Sokka squirmed. “Excuse me?”

“I offered your girlfriend a bit of money. She seems to need it, and you definitely need new clothes too if you even want to bother blending in.”

Azula flicked her hair back, brushing against Sokka’s hand on the back of her neck. “We don’t need…”

“Let’s hear her out, Liang.”

She knocked Sokka’s hand off her and crossed her arms. How dare he!? Azula looked at him, seething. Her skin was warm and rippling. She wanted this girl gone and preferably hurting, but Sokka just placed his hands-on top of hers, rubbing his fingers along her knuckles and the angry, volcanic heat lowered to a simmer, a soft bubble deep in her core.

“I see which half has the brains.” The girl slipped a ring off her engorged fingers and settled it across from them. “Consider this a down payment.”

“And what do you want her to do?” Sokka asked.

“Just meet me.” The girl removed a thick piece of parchment from her robes and slapped it on the table. “After the sun is fully set. If you’re interested, that is.”

“We’re not…”

“We’ll consider it.” His hand tightened, pulsed against her, and she though she wanted to rip into right then and there, she grounded herself into his hand, the chapped, cracking skin. The plump girl merely nodded, satisfied, and bowed lightly before leaving.

Azula removed herself away from Sokka’s side. Her hand still felt unnaturally warm, but she attempted to ignore it. “I don’t know what you think you’re possibly…”

“You should eat.” Sokka perfunctorily ignored her and pushed her rice bowl even closer. She briefly thought he’d spill it on her lap. “I grabbed something on the way back. Should have picked you up something too. This…isn’t the best.”

Sokka had eaten her food and didn’t seem to be dying. Azula placed a hand on her grumbly stomach and ate a spoonful. It was entirely too salty, but it didn’t stop her from swallowing her bowl in nearly three bites. “We agree on that at least.”

“Azula…” Sokka rubbed the back of her head. He kept his voice low, timbre vibrating on her name, and she felt her gaze still on him completely. Sokka had both legs on either side of the bench, dead on with her right side. “That girl is Fui Long’s daughter.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How would you know that?”

“I just spent too much of my life spying on that jerk.” Sokka grabbed and took a big gulp of her water. “They look way too similar.”

It had been at least a year since Azula had seen Fui Long in person.  She turned through her memory of any prints or verbal descriptions of his daughter and came up blank. “I suppose they have a similar…bone structure, but you seem more than certain.”

“This too.” Sokka swiped the ring towards them both and picked it up gingerly. “The setting—I almost picked this out for you.” He stammered. “Well, not you…no, I mean, my fake girlfriend who doesn’t…”

“He didn’t sell it to you?”

“No. He said it was just to show his craftmanship. The actual design is reserved for his family.” Sokka relaxed as a bowl of soup and rice was presented to him, waitress winking. “Guess I could eat a little…”

“We have to meet her.” Azula took the ring from him and looked at the elaborate metalwork. It was twisting, vine like band encrusted with the tiniest of rubies. Delicate and beautiful and much to big for Azula’s own fingers. She handed it back to Sokka. “I told her you were a worthless man from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Ah, so only changed one detail, huh?”

Sokka stretched and funneled food into his mouth. He was indelicate. Monstrous even. But the hearth in the center of the room created flames on his skin, orange, and yellow intensifying the already warm tones. Parts of his hair were loose from the ponytail, framing the angles of his face, the clear blue of his eyes. She felt…she felt…uncomfortable mostly. Too warm and too tight and as if she were made to swallow a hard-boiled egg in one, mighty gulp. He was distracting to look at, and she hated it. That wouldn’t do her any good. And even now, she felt her mouth move carelessly, independently of any sense or diligence. “You’re hardly worthless.”

His spine pulled straight. Bits of soup dripped from his mouth and splattered on the inn’s table. Sokka wiped away the food on his lips. Disgusting, but effective. “I’m…not? I mean, I know I’m not, but you know that?”

“Yes.” She leveled her chi, ignored the hammering of her chest at the eye contact. It felt different, beyond simple discomfort. It felt like a drill tearing through her skin, exposing every inch of her, and Azula wanted to push away from him and that hair and eyes and mouth, but she didn’t. She stood her ground, letting her shoulders fall, and dared to touch him. He didn’t sink away or recoil. His shoulder seemed to bend under her touch, mold against her palm, and her lips curled. “I would say you’re quite the competent partner.”

“That means…something coming from you.” He looked at her hand, biting his lip.

“Something?”

Sokka nodded and moved quickly from the bench to break their contact. His cheeks were slightly red, body exuding more heat. “We should continue this back in the room.” His face contorted, and Azula recognized the emotion easily as panic. “I mean, to plan this more.”

“I know what you mean.” She followed Sokka back up the stairs, taking note of the new tote bag he carried. Azula rolled her eyes at the possibilities. She had no idea the man loved to spend money as much as he did. She should have picked a better sponsor.

No, he’s perfect. The thought was unbidden, unwanted, and Azula paused on the stairs to examine it. Perfect in the way that he, somehow, trusted her. Perfect in the way that he was a warrior and strategist. Perfect in the way that he was an absolute cash cow if needed.

Yes. That was all.

“Liang? Liang!”

She didn’t recognize the name and rubbed her head as Sokka moved back down the stairs. His fingers flitted over her forearm. “You alright?”

“Perfect.”

He laughed. “Of course, you are. Come on.”  

The room seemed so much smaller once they are both back inside. Claustrophobic. Caving. Azula tried to create as much distance as possible from him, but Sokka ended up following her to the bed, jumping and spilling the contents of the tote in front of her. She recognized the ingredients immediately.

“Thought you could use some more. It seems to…help you?” He didn’t look at her, but his voice wasn’t disdainful, judging. Another tear ran through her chest.

“It does.” She looked over the herbs, baffled more than anything, and picked up a small, carefully wrapped package. Sokka didn’t stop her, so Azula proceeded in tearing through the thin paper to reveal a pair of glistening teal earrings. The stone wasn’t precious. The metal was almost brittle. They were simple and too large for her liking, and she looked at Sokka in confusion.

“For Katara.” He shrugged, but the nonchalance was absent from the rest of him. “You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” Azula snapped.

“Never…never mind. Anyway.” He scooted to be fully on the bed and sat cross-legged. “I can see why you want to kill him.”

“You realized he’s a potential threat to the Royal Family?”

“No.” Sokka cracked his knuckles and removed the cloak from his shoulders, revealing bare arms and collar. Azula looked away as he spoke. “He’s a greedy snail slug. There were pieces in there probably dug up from some back alley that he sold for thousands of yuan. And all the makeup felt like eel oil.” Sokka fell back on her pillow, legs still crossed. “There was an actual couple that came in looking for matching bracelets and he sold them a pair that will break in two days.”

She angled herself to face him, curious at both his anger and his knowledge of jewelry. “I didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur.”

“He claimed he used cold forging. That’s not too different than some of the weapons we made down in my tribe. And between Gran Gran and Katara, I’ve seen a bit of jewelry making.”

“Raised by women.”

“As compared to an evil warlord? I’ll take it.”

Azula elbowed him dangerously close to the inner seam of his pants. Sokka yelped and jutted back to a siting position. She waited to be scolded. To be yelled at or even punched back. But Sokka only smiled and flicked her nose.

“Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, princess. But if you act like a pest…”

“Can we please just…”

“You’re pretty tame.” Sokka commented before falling back on her pillow. “Not saying I dislike it, but…” He shook his head. “Okay, so The Plan. I don’t really have one. The guy seems to care about his family enough to design nice rings for them, but other than that, he only seems to care about money.”

“So, we kidnap his daughter when we meet her tonight and ransom her. He could either offer us information or money.”

She watched him exhale deeply, harshly, his abdomen curving inwards even under the layers of his tunic. “Okay.”

“And we may have to kill him, Sokka.” She spoke slowly so he understood. This wasn’t an empty promise, an extreme circumstance of their reality. Azula would do anything to see her country move past this volatile time, to protect her brother while he still wore the crown. Her nation’s stability, somehow, relied on it. “He’s a threat to Zuko.”

“And you,” Sokka added.

“Yes.” Her chi flickered. “And me. If we don’t properly defang him, I’ll need him dead. You won’t stop me?”

He didn’t answer. Sokka’s breathing quickened, deepened, and the fists at his side flexed and tensed repeatedly. She didn’t understand his turmoil, his hesitation. Sokka himself had called Fui Long a bug. The world would be better without him.

But that was alright. She didn’t need his agreement. Silence—from her experience— was almost always a yes.

Chapter Text

There was still time to figure something out. Sure, that girl across from Azula had made his skin crawl, and her dad was—at a minimum—equally repugnant. But the thought of kidnapping still made him feel queasy, nauseated in his gut. He supposed he wasn’t that far gone yet.

Matter of days then.

He was…enchanted? Was that the right word? Was that the reason why he was following her around, listening, willing to give this war criminal a long, long leash, because she was hot? And a really good fighter and tactical mastermind? And yes, she was shrewd and cruel, but he sort of admired her for it?

Manipulated would be a better name for it.

That or cursed.

He expected the meeting location to be somewhere shadier. A dark alley. An abandoned warehouse. Maybe some salty, fog-filled dock. He had followed the hooded figure of Azula, however, deeper into the nicer bits of Omashu, even closer to Bumi and his palace. For a moment, as the castle gleaned in the moonlight above them, Sokka thought he’d be misfortunate enough to receive a visit from the crazy king. But Azula stopped before they were close enough and pointed to what looked like an upscale bakery.

“We’ve arrived.” She rubbed at her arms, cold, and Sokka mirrored her, though he didn’t feel uncomfortable. Omashu winter was nothing compared to the South Pole, and he wondered why Azula was allowing herself to feel any chill. She must be conserving her bending. Of course, she was. Of course, she was taking it slowly, preparing for a fight.

“You okay?”

Her eyes were still covered under the lip of her hood. “Fine.”

“I think we can take her, just saying.” He rocked back on his heels, triceps meeting the hard grit of the outside wall. “If it comes to it.”

He thought he’d be dismissed, met with some biting, cool remark of confidence. But she was silent for a moment, lost in the swarm of borrowed blue. Sokka shook off his casual stance and slowly pulled the hood off her head. He was met with satin-black and gold illuminated by starlight. She appeared smaller than he expected, narrow frame, short height. In her flat slippers, Azula almost strained to look up at him. A pink tongue slid across her bottom lip. “We?”

It took a moment to make sense of her question. There was a stray wind that went across her face and darted black hair against her cheekbone. It was bothersome to look at, so he gently pushed it away to see her fully. Azula didn’t move at the contact. She was too focused, too damn terrifying even with her small stature, and Sokka’s fingers still twitched when they settled back at his side. “We’re partners, right? Where I come from, that means we look out for each other.”

The princess looked as if she were going to fall forward, but she recovered, swayed back, and attempted to retie her hair and bangs. “Don’t you shit outside where you come from?”

“It’s called an outhouse, and when you come up with pipes that don’t freeze in subzero temperature, send me a letter.” He wanted to be angry, but the slight she delivered was good natured, teasing. He liked it. “Anyone can shit in a toilet. Takes a certain bravery to shit straight in snow.”

“I think you’re confusing the word bravery and idiocy again.”

“I think you shouldn’t judge things until you try them.” Wait, did he not move away after pushing her hair back? Azula’s breasts brushed against him every time she inhaled, and he consciously kept his body stagnant, stiff, not realizing that subconsciously he was in fact backing away and further against the exterior wall of this bakery. His actions didn’t match his words, clearly, and Azula’s nerve seemed to buckle, ease away at his nervousness. Great.

She twisted away from him until they were side by side. “Your friend had a brilliant plan.”

He had absolutely no idea who she was talking about, but Sokka was jealous of the compliment afforded to him. The line of her sight was Bumi’s palace, and he let the words slip, relaxed even as they waited for Fui Long’s daughter. “He almost killed me with candy.”

“He...what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sokka waved it off, smiling at her furrowed brow, the slight blip of confusion on her features before it was pushed down and muddled by frigidity. “What was his plan again?”

“Surrendering to us. He was patient.” Azula snapped a finger. Blue light erupted briefly before fizzing away in the wind. “Plus, Mai’s father completely fell for his lunacy.”

Sokka turned on his side. “What do you mean ‘fell’?”

“It was an act, certainly.” Azula twisted a loose bang. Her body stiffened, closed towards Sokka as the realization crept up. “It wasn’t?”

“I did mention that he almost killed me with candy, didn’t I?”

His tried to sound lilting, but Azula almost seemed burdened by it. “And is he…” She clawed at her arms. The cold must have really been getting to her. Sokka fingered the buttons of his own coat but thought better. “Is he still like that?”

“You mean unhinged? Most definitely. I don’t really think he’ll ever not be.”

The princess pushed herself from the wall, movement splintered like lightning, sudden and harsh. The night was fully upon Omashu, and Sokka could almost see the trickle of static, the edge and friction rise around her.

Let it out.

She stood in front of him, back turned, shoulders tight against her neck. The tension was unwarranted, shocking in its mercuriality, but Sokka, masochistic for sure, watched with interest. He waited for her to bow under it, to snap and release, yet Azula only exhaled before facing him. Her painted mouth was a thin line, the familiar playfulness absent. “Someone’s coming.”

The streets were not completely abandoned, and it took Sokka a moment to pinpoint their target through the crowd. Her fingers and neck were empty of any of the identifiable jewels, but she wore a rich robe and dress, the cloth saturated a deep emerald.  

The…plumper woman stopped in front of the store and untangled a ring of keys from her robe. “I thought you’d come alone.” She spoke to Azula even as her eyes fixed on Sokka. “Not that I mind exactly.”

“I was the one that convinced Liang to come here.”

“And how good of you.” She smiled and pushed the door open, body lax and casual, and Sokka knew this wasn't seductive, suggestive, but the princess soon shoved herself between them.

Azula shouldered Sokka inside. “Pardon me.”

“No manners." He joked, reactive to tension. "You’d think she was raised by wolf bats.”

“I’m curious.” Their host hesitated and closed the door. The immediate smell of sugar and butter and just plain sweet hit his nostrils though he couldn’t see much of the space. She gestured to a candle chandelier above them, looking to Azula. The princess breathed in again before sending orange flames up to the wicks above. “Some would say you two are an unlikely pair.”

Azula didn’t return her hand to her side, threat open. “As I said, we met…”

“In your dad’s factory. Got it. I don’t really care. You’re a firebender and that's enough for me. What’s his name by the way?”

“Hakoda.”

Sokka didn’t want to think about how easily Azula lied, how easily she knew his father’s name. That was a rabbit hole for some other day. “Look, do you need us or not?” He wondered what was taking Azula so long to threaten her and signal that they should just hold her down, tie her up, and leave. She’s changing the plan. Her eyes flickered to him, deep, begging. The gold was ignited, crackling, and he felt his throat bob. “We can go into our life story even more but seems a bit unfair since we don’t even know your name.”

“Fair trade then? Fine.” The woman went behind the counter and opened the cash register. She tapped the edge and pointed downwards to the glass display. “Help yourself to some egg tarts.”

“Pass.”

“Strictly business? No fun, but okay. My name is Gao Long, and I need a firebender for a little bit of arson.”

He’d thought as much, and the lack of expression on Azula’s face confirmed she had made the same conclusion. Azula watched the orange flames. “And what exactly do you want on fire?”

“A house and a jewelry store. I want it melted to the ground, and I want the flames thick and hot enough to prove that a firebender did it.” Gao’s tone loss all sense of frivolity. “You two…” She laughed. It was a faint, perishing sound. “I promised a fair trade, huh? Let me just say, I see myself in you, Liang…in both of you.”

It was automatic, innate. Sokka wrapped his hands around Azula’s waist. Her breathing tightened, but he felt her nails scratch at his knuckles, blistering with warmth. Azula leaned against him, and the weight of her head rested in the crook of his neck. His own chest flushed as the princess’ words purred against him. “I don’t see how.”

Gao looked crestfallen. She opened her mouth, lips quivering, mind torn, and then slammed yuan from the register down on the table. “I won’t ask for any more of your story. Forget it. You know what I want, and I know you need money. Is this enough?”

Azula’s nose hit the edge of his jawline as she turned. Sokka trembled and released her, knowing the command. He eyed the bills and coins with a cursory discernment and nodded. “I think we have a deal.”

“House first,” Azula demanded. “The store will take longer to burn than a free-standing home, and we can’t be in town long enough to wait that out.”

Gao shook her head. “I can’t have you skipping before the job is done.” She shoved the yuan back into the register. “You’ll excuse me for wanting a bit of leverage.”

“Why of course. Understandable.”

“And there’s someone in the house…my father.” The sad, pitying look was back, and Sokka almost felt like consoling the woman. “I’ll need him out and brought here…for safety. I’m sure neither of you want murder on your hands or am I mistaken?” She was only looking at Azula.

The princess sniffed but made no correction. Sokka watched her tensely, mind still spinning and keeping track of what this new plan might be. They could ask for some time alone. Yes, that would be warranted given everything. He moved to Azula and leaned in her ear. Whatever chill she had seemed to vanish under his touch. “Can we discuss this alone?”

“I’ll be in the back,” Gao said. “I need to prepare a few things for tomorrow’s rush anyway.”

They waited ten seconds after the door to the back kitchen was shut. Sokka immediately dragged her to the far corner of the room, near the loaves of stale bread, and kept his body close and low. Azula seemed distracted by some weird looking dessert in the window. “Liang…” He kept the codename. That was the last thing they needed exposed. “What are you thinking?”

She said nothing and broke away from the tight corner and closer to the bizarre cake in a small, ceramic bowl. “This soufflé is terrible.”

Sokka almost hit his head. “That isn’t really relevant now.”

“I know this dish. Lo and Li would insist on trying to make it for me whenever I mastered a new form. It’s from Kirachu Island.”

“I don’t…”

“Why is some upper-middle class Earth Kingdom citizen running a bakery, Hakoda?” Azula poked the old soufflé, immediately deflating the rise. “Why is she making dessert from the Fire Nation?”

Sokka scratched his head, “Maybe she’s got a taste for it?”

“No,” Azula said. “Try again.”

He looked at the array of old pastries, of the poorly decorated cakes that really should have been thrown out. The egg tarts were un-glossy, the cookies burnt on the edges, but he kept straying back to the chandelier that Azula lit. The orange light, the thinning candles, the complete lack of a tool to light it. “This bakery isn’t hers.”

Azula’s grin was cat-like. “I think so too.”

“It was a firebender’s.”

“Of course.” A smirk grew on her face. It was something Sokka would normally associate with cruel intent, of blatant danger, but now he knew better. Azula had just figured out a missing piece of a puzzle. “What she said to me…that she knew others of my situation. It must have been someone close to her.”

“And she said we were similar. It must have been a lover.” Sokka spat. Azula turned to him, wide-eyed, cheeks hollow, and he held up his hands. “Oh, come on! It makes sense based on the story you told, no matter how we actually feel about it each other.” He dragged her back closer. Azula was surprisingly unresistant, and she laid her head back against his chest. Sokka swallowed, slightly nervous she’d feel the increased beat of his heart. “You were testing it too. With this position, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” Her fingers trailed his forearm, stopping and gripping the underside of his muscle, and he continued to cradle her, to smell the spice and sweat from her hair, the velvet feel of her cheek against his neck.

What was he doing? What were they doing?

“Just a test?” Sokka dared.

“Of course.” Azula didn’t move. “And we have a role to play. It seemed natural.”

“Uh huh.”

“It doesn’t to you?”

Her body lifted from him a little, and Sokka let her go. “Can’t say it does. No.” He scratched at his wolf’s tail and ignored the heat in his cheeks. “What are you thinking?”

Azula hesitated. She experimented with the room, turned the candles blue then red then orange with a swift movement. “I’m up for this.” She straightened her back, and Sokka edged up to her, anxious and unclear what she meant, what he had been asking.

And then an idea popped into his head. “I still have her ring. We can use that. We may not need to actually ransom her. She’ll want to come with us to ensure her father’s life but will most likely watch in secret. He’ll recognize you immediately, but we can deal with it. We won’t need to kill him.”

“Leaving him alive is out of the question.”

“Li…”

“You know it’s funny.” She only sounded disdainful. “What people call you—a hero—do you think it’s well-earned?”

Sokka cocked his head. “I’m sorry?”

“People think you’re stainless, so pure, compared to me. Even Gao Long knows that I’m the real threat.” Her eyes look up to the flames. “Is it the fire?”

“I thought you liked being dangerous, Azula.” It felt wrong to call her anything else.

She smiled. “I do. Don’t misunderstand. But aren’t you tired of being so misjudged?”

“You’re saying I’m dangerous.”

“I’m saying you’re a killer more than me.” Azula cracked her hands. “It’s not an insult. Just don’t mistake that I’m the bad influence.”

He sniffed. The heat he felt was dissipating. Azula was, and would always be, a fantastic manipulator. “This is you pushing guilt.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

“You’re priming me.”

“I’m preparing you to do what we need to do to protect people’s lives. You should know that. You can’t win a war without deaths, Sokka. You can’t get what you want, what you truly want, without taking something. The world doesn’t work that way.”

“Your world doesn’t.”

“My world?” The candles were hotter, brighter, and the bakery was turned every shade of blue. “How many men do you think you’ve killed?”

His mind turned. Azula had mentioned this before, had insinuated that he was guilty of some horrible, horrible act, but he couldn’t place it. “There was that assassin.”

“Yes, you managed to completely wipeout an ancient art of firebending, but that’s not what I mean. Do you know what I wanted to do? On the day of Sozin’s comet?”

How would he know that? “Kill my little sister?”

She took the bite with humor. “No more than my own brother, but no. I wanted to see my father’s work in action. I wanted to watch the Earth Kingdom, a place that had so long resisted us, submit under flame.”

Bile formed in his throat. “Why?”

“Because it was my idea.” Azula was flippant. “You seem surprised.”

Sokka moved away and steadied himself on the counter, the room a little dizzy as the blue faded back to warm orange. He…knew that, didn’t he? Azula was deadly. Azula was heartless. “Why?”

“It’s what I wanted,” she said easily. “It was what my father expected from his new Fire Lord.” She stayed in the middle of the room. Her voice was empty. “Funny, right?”

“It’s really not.” He didn’t know why he wanted to hug her. This seemed vulnerable, unspoken, and painful for her. This was the crescendo, the apex of abuse and disappointment and…no. That didn’t change that she was a monster. She was a monster. Why was he approaching her? “Azula…” He fought his own words. “You were manipulated.”

“Yes.” Her eyes darted up and down his body, lingering on his boomerang. Did she think he was going to attack her? His heart fell and he placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tight, feeling the bone underneath her cloak and his gloves. “But you killed them.”

Sokka almost fell back. “What?”

“My men. You were the one who took down all of their airships. If I were there…”

“You would have stopped me.”

“I would have saved them,” Azula corrected.

He didn’t think about that. He never…how many men had he and Suki and Toph brought to their death that day? How many airships had he crashed? Had he watched go up in flames? You had to. His teeth gritted. You had to. “And hundreds of more would have died.”

She nodded and laid her hand on his heart. “So, you understand then? An evil act does not make you evil.” Azula exhaled and pressed her long fingers against his cheek. “You’re a killer and a hero both.”

Gao followed them to her father’s house.

It was expected, but Azula can’t help but be annoyed by it. Gao was not discreet. She made too much noise and tried to impossibly hide behind streetlamps, and the whole thing was ridiculous, suspicious, and the one thing that would most likely get them caught.

“We don’t have much time to do this,” Sokka whispered, holding her hand. Their act would continue. She felt a coldness from him still, a reluctance to be close to her given who she was and what she said. No matter. This ruse would be over soon enough. They would bleed Fui Long of the information they needed, head back to the Fire Nation, and be done with it. Sokka would go back to Republic City or his barren wasteland of a home, and maybe Azula would…maybe she would be allowed to be free.

It bothered her though. His liveliness gone. His wit dulled and blunt when she wanted it dancing around her. He was fascinating and distracting in all ways she should have hated but didn’t. She liked having him beside her, with her. She liked him as a partner. “We don’t,” she agreed. “Gao Long is waiting in the alley three houses down, and this house is made of mostly rock.”

“Can’t burn it?” Sokka played with her hand, and she felt herself ease as his humor was replaced.

“Oh, I can burn it. Just not quickly. You lucked out that my fire is blue.”

Sokka half-whispered, “I didn’t think that had anything to do with luck.”

“No.” She blushed and let go of his hand. “It doesn’t. You understand our plan?”

Sokka crossed his arms. He looked taller under the moonlight, shadow casting long and dark. His sword laid easily on his back, and it made her feel inexplicitly safe. “Go in, tie Fui Long down. He’ll recognize us both immediately. Show him the ring. Say we have her captured too and make him tell us who’s after you.”

“And Zuko.” That was more important. There were plenty of people who’d want her dead, but those that wished for both their deaths? Rather uncommon. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

“Let’s just go.”

Gao had a key to his house—an ornately carved, triple story home near the upper echelons of Omashu. There were no guards. No security. The door barely opened with so much of a creak, and Azula almost let her body relax. This was going seamlessly, bloodlessly. Nothing was that easy.

She allowed Sokka to take the lead. His appearance would confuse Fui Long most likely, and that would give Azula enough time to hold the man down. There would certainly be a chair in the room, and if not, they would improvise. The staircase up and up, to her amusement, was made of wood. Proper tinder.

“You ready?”

Azula paused in front of him on the landing. The third floor must have been storage or a simple loft. All doors were open in the hall except for one at the far end, jeweled flowers banking the double doors. That was certainly the master bedroom. That was where Fui Long was.

“He’s not a threat, Sokka.”

“I know but…” Sokka pulled on his belt. His wraps were tied loosely, ready to be pulled and strung like handcuffs. “No more questions. You’re right. We need to be decisive or we’ll mess up.”

She felt a head rush of heat. His words were almost admirable. “After you then.”

The door was unceremoniously locked as Sokka tried to jostle one of the doorknobs. He frowned and took the boomerang from his back. Azula cringed. “Smacking it open will ruin the element of surprise.”

“Someone installed this the wrong way. Just give me a sec.” He manipulated the hold so that the fine edge of the weapon turned over the screw on the top of the doorknob. With a few more twists, the metal dangled loosely, and Sokka easily caught it and placed it on the ground between them. His face was shit-eating. “I have a boundless amount of skill.”

“I’m almost impressed.”

“You know, if I just start replacing ‘almost’ with ‘very’, I think I get a little closer to how you actually feel. Right?”

“You’re almost wrong.”

He bit down a laugh and pushed the left door open easily, blue eyes standing out in the overcast. He wanted to counter her—he always did and she loved it—but Sokka knew better and stayed silent. For a tall, buffoon of a man, his steps were noiseless, stalking, and she had the urge to think of him as a hunter. Water Tribesman did that, didn’t they? They were barbaric enough to need to actually source their own food, and Sokka seemed to display that trait easily. His eyes seemed more adjusted than hers in the dark, movement graceful and quick and experienced.

Azula shifted herself to a corner. Embers from the fireplace hearth were dying, supplying the room with a minimal amount of heat needed for the winter air. Sokka waited at the edge of the bed. Fui Long was there, sleeping still, snores reverberating even in the decadently large space. Their footsteps were muffled from the large area rug, from the crackling of the ashen wood, and Azula, again, thought that this was just too damn easy.

She met Sokka at the other side of the bed. It was large, a queen if Azula could judge right, but Fui Long’s body took up most of the space. His belly arched, formed a rounded hill of the bedspread, and his salt and pepper moustache looked thin and wormlike under his cheeks. She hated him. Hated him profusely for what he was trying to do to her, for what he had done, and it only took a slight nod to the four-poster bed to tell Sokka her intent.

The fireplace exploded with blue flame, harsher and louder than she wanted, but she was ready for this. The splintering of the already weak logs jostled the man awake and up in surprise, and Azula immediately dug her forearm against his neck, elbow pointing slightly at the bump in his throat.

Fui Long splattered, choking and flailing. His eyes flew open with a rush of panicked green, and Sokka moved. He expertly uncurled the wraps from his belt and tied the man down. Left wrist then ankle, then right. Azula shifted to give him access to the last post and attempted to see the distrust in Sokka's face, the hesitation. It wasn’t there.

Satisfied with his job, Sokka moved away and in front of Fui Long. The man was still struggling to free himself helplessly, and Sokka coughed. “You can let him go, Azula.”

She did. Fui Long was red, almost blue in the face, and he sputtered for air at her release. Coward. Weakling. She moved next to Sokka and could almost feel her own fire against her face.

The lamps on his bedside table were oil. She lighted them with a point and the room was wrapped in blue.

“Yo-you!” Fui Long spat. His voice was raspy and venomous. “I should have known.”

“That your little assassin couldn’t kill me?” She feigned a yawn. “What a surprise.”

Fui Long continued to pull and pull on the wraps. Azula was almost certain they’d tear, but Sokka remained confident, unmoving. She followed his lead again. The Water Tribesman’s own voice was uncharacteristically cold. “You need to work your plans out a little better. What grudge do you have against Azula?”

“And my brother,” Azula quickly added. “And my father as well. Who did you hire for that?”

Fui Long coughed a laugh. “Like I’d tell some treacherous cun…”

Sokka stepped onto the bed and buried his boot into Fui Long’s crotch. Fui Long writhed in pain, sobbing. Sokka towered over the bloated, struggling man—strong, a force of nature Azula most commonly associated with herself.

Hm.

“You’re not in any position for insults.” He loosened his hold on Fui Long’s balls but stayed on the mattress. His form jostled as the old man attempted to continue to struggle, but Sokka rode it out. “Tell us who’s behind this.”

“Behind?” The words were a squeak. “Maybe I just wanted to see this bitch and her whole family burn.”

“Wrong answer.” Azula lighted a blue flame from her right hand and gloriously plunged it too close to Fui Long’s head and into the stone wall behind him. The coward burst into tears, afraid, almost broken, and Sokka took the ring from his pants and balanced it on his belly.

“What is this?” Fui Long sobbed.

“We have your daughter.” Sokka pointed to the ring. “Azula won’t miss with her.”

“What?”

“I’ll turn her into ashes if you don’t tell me who you’re working with. Your assassin was absolute shit, but someone else killed my father. Who was it?” Azula kept her tone level though she felt like shouting, She felt like taking a ball of flame and pushing it into Fui Long’s bulbous thigh, but held back. There was another way. There was. Sokka said so.

“You…think…” The sobbing was wild, maddening. His whole body was shaking and throbbing. Azula watched, confused until the sound was undiscernible laughter. “You think I actually care what happens to her?”

What?

Sokka’s head dipped back, and she silently pleaded for him to get off the bed. He had to get away from him. This wasn’t going how they planned at all. The linchpin was the threat against Gao Long. Take that away and...

The warrior didn’t move. “What do you mean?”

“I know who you are too.” Fui Long ignored the question. The squeak from a crushed scrotum was gone, throat still struggling to breathe but deep and baritone. “Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. The Northerner warned us about you. You helped Ozai’s spawn get the crown. You’re part of the reason why his taint is still with us.”

“What are you talking about?!” Azula screamed from behind them both. Sokka, get off of him! Her brain was dizzy, confused, and threatened. Her vial seemed like days ago. Meditation useless, pointless in masking all this despair and worthlessness and unbridled fear. “You wanted Ozai in power! You and the Kemurikage!”

“Under you, you idiot bitch. But you said Ozai is dead?” Fui Long’s round face went sharp. “Someone’s doing something right. Kill Gao. She’s no daughter to me. She knew that the moment she married that firebending mutt.”

“How did he try to kill you?”

The voice was new but not unfamiliar.

Sokka only turned briefly and Azula followed suit to see Gao Long in the doorframe. She looked ghost-like, a phantom in the blue firelight. Her robes rustled as she moved from the doorframe, and her eyes were wide and glass. She repeated the words again as she stood side-by-side with Azula. “How did he try to kill you?”

“An assassin.”

“How?” She said again. Harsh, cutting. Gao took Azula’s shoulders and shook her. “HOW!”

“Let her g…”

“At first, poison.” Azula interrupted Sokka. “The assassin poisoned my food. I was sick for hours, and when that failed, he tried a knife.”

Gao said nothing. Tears painted across her cheeks, and she shuddered, almost collapsing next to her. It took a moment for Gao Long's body to settle. The woman straightened herself and moved to her father’s left side. She bent down, primly, and removed a large, glass bottle from under the night stand. “Mutt?” Her voice was soft. She took the stopper off easily and splashed the viscous liquid in Fui Long’s face. “Mutt! How could you! How could you!”

“Gao!” Fui Long spattered. “Gao! Stop!”

“You killed him! You killed him!”

“He was undeserving of you! You didn’t love him. Don’t fool yourself in thinking you did!”

More liquid was poured in his mouth, on his torso, his legs. Azula watched it all with confusion, paralytic. He sounded like he was drowning. 

Gao Long was in a flurry of rage. Empty, the jar was slammed against the stone walls and shattered. “You don’t even know what that means.”

Panic.

That would be what she normally felt in times of stress. Panic and the sheer need to fight back and growl and lose everything. And as she watched Gao reach for the lit lamp, for the oil lamp, that sensation was there. It was creeping up from deep, deep in her gut, disposing of her freewill and rationality, and she almost let it unbalance her, take her.

Until she realized Sokka still wasn’t moving.

She grabbed at his ankle and tugged him clean off the bed. It was sloppy and careless, and he banged most of his limbs against the wood frame, but she pulled and dragged him away as the bed ignited in blue. The acrid smell of burning skin and muscle consumed the room, and she pulled herself over Sokka, covering his face with her hands as she pushed her head against his neck, felt his chest rise and meet her own. “Sokka.” She muttered. “Sokka, you have to move.”

His breath was rapid and hot against her hands, and soon they were taken away from his mouth and eyes and twisted into his. Sokka pulled himself up, and she was cradled again, face deep into his collarbone, legs jelly from adrenaline and dread. She couldn’t move. Her muscles were asphyxiated, unresponsive, and Sokka pushed her out of the room as the rug and curtains went up in now orange flame.

The smoke was suffocating and flecked with ash. It stung at her eyes, shook her, and she was used to this. Sokka wasn’t. Sokka wouldn’t be used to fire, and she unfurled her body from him and grabbed his hand tightly. She had to get him out. She had to help him. He met her hold with equal strength, and Azula kept her voice sharp. “Follow me.”

She led him down the stairs, suppressing the encroaching flames, the steps lighting up like a wick as soon as the fire flumed from the bedroom. She bent him low, so he’d inhale less smoke, but he still coughed as they made their way through the now maze-like first floor and then, finally, collapsed outside. There were a few people already gathered and starting to stare, and she couldn’t let him rest. They were grey with ash and coughing. They were the only ones leaving this hollowed, burnt out shell.

“We have to run.”

Sokka continued to cough and she patted his back and pushed. She shook him, gently. “Sokka, we have to run.”

The words sunk in, and his blue eyes connected with her, agreed with her. They seemed open and for some reason trusting, and he wouldn't let go of her hand, even as they sprinted.

Chapter Text

“Princess?”

Ukano was arrested. Zuko had shown some semblance of backbone, and her and her most avid supporters were safe. Everything was fine. The children returned. Ozai still imprisoned. She was gone and out of any danger, but she still could not bear her own reflection.

“Princess Azula?”

The mirror was cracked. The glass uneven. A sharp jagged piece of black seemed to carve and divide its way across her features, cutting her in two. Messy. Imperfect. Disturbed. Azula pulled at her hair. There was no crown or ceremonial robe. No brother or waterbender beating down her door. This was different. Her Kemurikage mask was left by her bedside, and she was different. She was. Even as she felt this rip and tear, a shredding in her chest.

Am I doing the right thing? Is this finally the right thing?

“Princess… are you okay?”

Her attention snapped to the upper edge of the mirror, of Tai Yan’s reflection in the right corner. They were in her home in the Caldera alone. The others were harbored by some Ozai loyalist not privy to her true intent. Azula never wanted her father on that throne. Never.

“Remember what I’ve taught you, Princess.” Tai Yan mollified the harsher voices. “In and out. Push away all the poisons in your body, all of the bad thoughts. Bring peace down into your chest. That’s it. That’s right. And back up.”

Azula swayed back on her knees so that she was no longer examining herself. It was a simple room. A zabuton. A vanity. A traditional tatami mat by the shaded window. It was unadorned, hidden in its normalcy, but Azula still felt anxious. The breathing exercises Tai Yan taught could only get her so far. She tugged at a loose, red thread in her robe. “We have to move out of the city by nightfall tomorrow.”

“The plans are already in motion. Here, I brought you your vial. You need to relax. You had a hard day.”

She really did.

Azula took the small cup from Tai Yan, nodding her thanks. It was warm this time, and the seeping herbs tickled her nose as she sipped. “Thank you.” She looked at the crack in the mirror again, and she was reminded again of cutting her hair, cheating at an Agni Kai, and wanting her brother dead. That seemed so long ago—another version of her life. “Thank you for everything.”

“I could offer the same gratitude. It is my duty to help you. You are our princess, and you are wise to see that Ozai is unfit for rule. Your brother…”

Azula stiffened. She hadn’t explained what she wanted from Zuko and that she had no desire to sit the throne herself. Would they still follow her if they found out? She waited for Tai Yan to sit behind her. The woman pulled the bun loose and took a gold comb from the vanity. She brushed it calmly, smoothly. It was different than Lo and Li. Different than any of her handmaidens or Ty Lee, but still familiar. Like her mother. Strangely, it was still hard to remember her.

“You have faith in him?” Tai Yan pushed back her hair. It was even again. Her mind felt balanced from her help. The mediation she was taught. The potion she had crafted. Tai Yan had welcomed her when Azula first found the New Ozai Society. She and the others who eventually became her Kemurikage treated her like the royalty she was, the princess she used to be. Not someone who belonged in a straight jacket but on a throne.

“I think he can be taught,” Azula tested.

Tai Yan’s even strokes fumbled. “You’d surrender your throne so willingly?”

“It’s not mine to surrender.” That was too strong. She noticed Tai Yan’s pupils widen immediately, and Azula hedged, “According to Fire Nation law.”

“Law, yes.” The woman bowed her head low and settled the comb back on the vanity. Azula said something wrong. Tai Yan was expressionless, warmth sucked away from her face and body. She was thin, and the shadows from the flickering candles only seemed to highlight the recesses of her cheekbones. Bony fingers smoothed down Azula’s hair. “You’re beautiful, Princess.”

It was her least favorite compliment. Beauty was given to her, inherited. Still, she pulled the smile from her face in an attempt to ease the change in the air. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“And you’ll have your throne. The Kemurikage promise you this. Even if we have to follow the law of succession.” The kiss to her temple felt cold and leeching. Azula waited until she was left alone, the door to her small room tightly shut. She moved quickly to the door and turned the lock.

The law of succession.

The meaning was clear: they’d kill Zuko if that meant she’d wear the crown.

And isn’t that what you wanted?

At one point. It was everything she had wanted. Every damn thing she did was for her father and that seat. To prove her right to lead because she was better than Zuko. She had always been better in every way that didn’t actually matter.

They’d fear you.

There was a hiss in her ear, and she moved back to her vanity and took another sip of tea. This night had been long and straining for her and her tenuous health. She needed a break, but how would that even happen? Respite had to be taken in short spurts, stolen moments. She folded back in a crossed-legged position, faced away from the mirror, and listened for her voice. Only her voice.

They need to respect him more, but the Fire Nation could love Zuko. They already do.

It would be foolish of her to expect the same.

Sokka barred the door to the washroom with a stone bench. It was well past midnight. No one would bathe this late, but it wasn’t worth the risk. His muscles strained as he pushed the makeshift barricade. He felt weak, strangled. He felt a slice of something up his thigh, but the adrenaline pushed it away. That wasn’t important now. They had no escape plan—how could he forget an escape plan? It was careless of him—of both of them—and he looked back to the princess. Azula didn’t flinch as he looked at her. She lifted her chin and waited for him to approach. Sokka felt sweaty and untied his top knot. The dark brown hair stuck to his face, slick and tacky.

The princess was covered in ash. Her pale skin was stained dust, hair coated in flecks of dark powder. The warm metallic of her irises was stark, blatant in the cool blue of the bathroom, the macabre grey of her skin. He itched closer.

“Stay still.” She held a hand flat on his chest, and he nearly gagged from the pressure, at how warm her palm was. “How is your breathing?”

 “Fine.” He sounded not fine. His voice was raspy and strained, but Azula didn’t coddle him like Gran Gran, didn’t scold like Katara or tease like Suki. She took him at his word and then led him deeper into the washroom.

It was in a classic, communal style. Deeper tubs were in the back, hot coals creating steam throughout the whole space. There were sinks against the wall and small stools where someone could scrub their body raw and clean. Azula moved quickly against him, shameless. She unbuttoned his coat, his vest, removed his tunic, with a speed and dexterity that had him questioning. The look on her face was stolid, slightly red from the heat of the bathwater’s steam but he doubted anything more. He couldn’t let himself think it could be anything more. The princess frowned. “You’re completely covered in ash.”

“So are you.”

She ignored him and knelt by his side. Sokka sat on the stool, pants still on but upper half completely uncovered. She was on her knees. Azula was on her knees, gold and power and unnerving calm, and he was definitely hallucinating. Or maybe she was. Maybe she inhaled too much smoke and forgot who they both were. That would make this attraction easier, wouldn’t it?

It wouldn’t be the same.

And clearly untrue. Azula was incredibly lucid, more so than he was. He had seen someone on fire before, but never so close and outside of war. He had never seen someone burned alive by their own daughter, and he wondered how she could just take that all in stride. How could she be so…so strong after something so horrific. “Azula…”

“Take off your pants.”

His spine shivered, head forgetting whatever morose thing he was thinking about and going back to her voice and her position and his half-nakedness. Sokka stood up to untie the cotton pants and let them drip to his ankles. They were sooty and wet, burnt on the upper leg, and it was that more than the pain that reminded him of the blistering wound on his right thigh. Azula thumbed the outside edges of his raw skin, careful. “Second degree.” Her eyes flashed up to meet his and then settled back down to the wound. “I only have the ointment you bought on me. It isn’t a proper burn cream, but it should suffice.”

“It’s warm.”

“It’ll be that way for a while.” She kept her nails curled up. The pads of her fingers glided over the red slice of muscle, and he flinched as she neared too close. Fuck, it hurt. His right leg felt flayed. He had somehow managed to block out the pain before—survival instinct probably—but now, in the security of the washroom, it seemed to multiply. Huh. Security with Azula.

How’d that happen?

Her mechanical demeanor seemed to falter as she wiped the ash from his collarbone and traced his clavicle up and down. She followed the underside of his chest, then above, then over, and he didn’t stop her. This wasn’t necessary. This wasn’t his back or his face—some area he couldn’t reach or see—and Azula was so damn slow in her action. Achingly, painfully slow. He could almost forget the literal burn on his leg. The rest of him was on fire.

“You’re lucky.” Her face was downcast, concentrating on the rag and his warming skin. He liked the firm touch of her fingers, the exacting nature of her push and swipes. She was, if anything, thorough.

Sokka took a breath before responding. “Says the girl with no burn mark.”

“I have burn marks,” she said seriously. He thought for a moment she’d elaborate, maybe even show him, but Azula only threw the rag away from them and reached for a clean one. She rubbed down his arms, in between his fingers, and then moved back up to his face. “Do all of you have this color?”

He didn’t know what she meant, but it clearly embarrassed her. Her cheeks were heavy, flushed, and Azula reclined back on her toes. She seemed to remember that her own face was covered and used the other side to wipe it clean. Sokka exhaled. He didn’t realize he wanted to do that for her.

“Your eyes, I mean.” Azula dipped the rag into the nearby stone basin. It wasn’t nearly as marred as the first one and was soft on his cheekbone, the underside of his jaw. “Does everyone of the Water Tribe have that color?”

“Pretty much. I wouldn’t call them unique.”

“Right. Of course.” Azula stood and handed him the rag. “I’ll be in the back. You can do the rest?”

What if he said no? Sokka wanted to. He wanted her to wash his legs, his neck, his back, and he wanted to return the favor tenfold. He wanted her close to him, near him, and yeah, a lot of that was this annoying attraction, but the more aggravating bit was because he felt…he didn’t know what he felt.

“Want me to come with you?”

Her mouth settled into a small ‘o’, not expecting something so brazen. The shock lasted longer than normal, and it was striking even with the rest of her body coated in ash. Azula only combed through their bag of clothes to take out an outfit and retreated to the back.

They’d need new clothes. He’d need something less discernible, but, if he were thinking about this the right way, he’d need to stick with his heavier coat for a while longer. Fui Long had mentioned someone from the North who knew him. Sure, he could have meant north in relation to Omashu—the Earth Kingdom was a huge place, after all—but his gut said no. This went all the way, up and up to the Northern Water Tribe.

He had visited the Northern Water Tribe often with his father in an attempt to bridge the cultural and technological gap the two opposite poles had. Sokka ran the small faucet to refill the stone basin. It felt cold against his face, and he groaned as he stood to pour water over and over his head. The small puddles in the floor turned grey as he continued. His underwear was soak through, leg stinging as the shock of cold flushed across the wound. Sokka bit his lip at the pain. He lathered himself with packed bar soap and rinsed again. He’d need to apply the ointment and change his underwear before Azula came back from her…

Wait.

Azula didn’t say no to him coming with her, did she?

Well, she hadn’t said anything. She could have ripped him apart, called him out on being lascivious or foolish or whatever, but she didn’t. Sokka pushed his wet hair from his face and dared a look to the back. He could hear the rhythmic flow of bath water and a splash from a tub but saw nothing through the steam.

This isn’t the time for that.

They had to get out of here. He wasn’t sure if their escape back to the Grand Omashu Inn had been seamless. There were too many people surrounding the outside of Fui Long’s home. The walls had been scorched, almost melted, and he tried to remember offhand at what temperature rock started to melt, at what temperature a fire’s flame started turning blue.

People were out to get Azula. Multiple people, and Sokka was afraid they were starting to leave tracks.

The thought had him shake off the water from his body and hair and reach for the rough towels shelved towards the entrance. He was careful around the burn. The skin was still pink and faintly wet looking. Sokka replaced his underwear and sat on the stone floor, towel spread under him. He stretched his right leg out and unplugged the ointment jar with his teeth.

“I’ll help you.”

His hair caught in his eyes, and the jar almost fell from his mouth. Azula grabbed it quickly. The green pants stuck to her legs, still wet from her bath, and her hair was equally flat and flushed against her cheeks. He sighed as the cream hit his leg. It soothed him, froze the pain away, and he murmured a “thank you”. Azula shrugged and pulled on the front ties of her tunic.

Sokka let go of a long breath. “You’re surprisingly gentle.”

The princess full-on laughed, and Sokka was certain he’d never heard it before. Not like this. It wasn’t maniacal or musical or even pleasant, but the unrestrained openness was warm and honest. Azula settled herself and moved a piece of black hair behind her ears. “You’re the first person to ever call me gentle.”

“You know what you’re doing.” He tried to explain, and Azula agreed but still seemed more surprised than anything. She proved his point further and removed his wraps from their bags. He would run out soon, and Azula wasn’t stingy with it. The wrapping was tight and well-practiced, and Sokka caught himself looking at her little revealed skin for a mark.

“It's on the left,” She answered for him. He flinched. What is she? Omniscient? Azula laid her palm flat on his wrapping, nails flicking at a frayed edge. “And if you must know, it was my fire as well.”

“Azula, you didn’t burn me.”

“And I’m not apologizing either.”  She tied it quickly and threw him his own pair of pants, his tunic. Her mind must have been in a similar place to his. “We have to get out of here soon.”

“I say we have to get of here now, but are you okay?”

Azula paused in her scattered packing. Beads of water curled down her neck. “You ask that a lot.”

“I…what?”

“If I’m okay.” Azula tugged the makeshift backpack over her shoulder. “You can infer that unless I tell you otherwise, I’m fine.”

Sokka sniffed and pulled his own clothes own. “Yeah, I believe that just as much…”

“What about you?” Azula practically whispered, voice remaining flat. Her fingers combed through her hair. “Are you…”

“Fine?”

“Okay?” She finished and handed him his own bag. “I can understand if you’re ready to tell Zuko you couldn’t find me.”

His chest dropped. That wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t even consider it. “And what? Let you introduce yourself to the Northern Water Tribe by yourself? You’ll probably melt the whole city down in a day.”

“I could, you know.” Azula was matter of fact. “It’s painful to think it took my family as long as it did.”

“Let’s just be thankful you’re good now.”

Her eyebrow arched, face curious, and it looked like the princess wanted to refute the statement, to argue, but thought better. “You caught it too then? What Fui Long had said about the Northerner?”

“Maybe you should explain on the way. We need to get out of here, and I think we need something a little faster than an ostrich horse.” Sokka bit down as he stretched his right leg. “I’m no good at side saddle.”

Sokka was charming.

She was envious of it, of his casual demeanor, of the way he could lean and shoot off a smile and people would bend around him. This was a form of manipulation she never learned, and it was equally fascinating and infuriating. Not only had he managed to convince some Earth Kingdom peasant that they were simple tourists, he persuaded her to let them take a Komodo rhino pulled wagon for significantly less than market price. He also—somehow—convinced Azula that he was okay enough to steer them in the middle of the night, that his burn was fine and driving them would be a distraction from the slight pain.

She was getting too patient with him.

They leave Omashu the same way they came. No one bothered for a passport or name at the gate, and Azula let herself relax in the back of the small cart. The bedrolls covered the wooden platform, and she laid down and attempted to settle her chest and focus on something else. The stars were different here. Scattered but clearer. No smoke of a volcano or the lights of the Caldera blocking them from her view. The North’s sky would look different too, and Azula turned her head to face her driver. “We should get out of sight of the main road.”

“I know a route,” Sokka answered but didn’t face her. He was fixated on the poorly lit path down the mountainside. “Don’t worry.”

She wasn’t worried about that. It was hard to even classify this feeling as worry. Paranoia. Fear. Worry was too shallow, too prissy and immature a feeling to describe the encroaching dread, the anxiety that she was one wrong step or sip away from being dead.

There were others besides Fui Long.

And she knew it. She knew it had been the Kemurikage and Tai Yan out to get her for good. Tai Yan had never wanted Ozai on the throne—that was why Azula was able to break Ukano’s ambition. She was able to snake her way in, manipulate in the way she thrived and turn the table on Mai’s father and assist her brother at the same time.

Azula recognized that her plan was not flawless. That through her masquerade and the kidnappings, she would draw out the brutal edges of both her and her sibling. But she was at a loss on how to make Zuko stronger. How to force his hand and be the Fire Lord that Ozai’s followers wanted him to be.

And now the Kemurikage want him dead.

But…they always had. Tai Yan would never accept Zuko, had never accepted Ozai. And Azula almost cursed at her own stupidity, at how easily she had been played.

Fuck.

This whole mess was her fault.

She didn’t want to think about it, and the princess crushed the memory. Her body jostled as the wagon moved off the paved mountain path and any other main road. She felt Sokka’s eyes on her back, but he faced the road again before she could call him out on it.

“So…” His voice was lower under the hoofed movements of the Komodo rhino and the creaking wagon wheels. “About that Northerner?”

Azula wanted to sit up. But her body was exhausted. The bedroll seemed to smell like him, even in the night air, and the salt taste was soothing. She licked her lips. “What about him?”

“Who is he?”

“Another backer.” She didn’t want to think about it right now. Azula knew, rationally, that they should start planning. That she was being hunted by this man and all of the Kemurikage threads, but her addled brain just wanted to sleep and dream of the ocean. “An anonymous one.”

“Then how can we be sure he’s Water Tribe?”

“What do you think he paid us with?” Azula closed her eyes. Her face felt warm. She remembered the summer sun, the feel of grit and shells between her toes.

“Azula?” Her name was punctuated by a prolonged silence. She could hear Sokka cough, clear his throat, and a new, different pang of anxiety coursed through her. “Why do they want to kill you? Who even are they?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation, preferably ever, but definitely not while she was lounging in the back of the cart, concentrating on not completely losing it and not being able to see him. She needed to read him. She needed to see that his mind didn’t change, that he still had her back. That they were still partners. Azula tried to match the stars to constellations, but it was unrecognizable. The Royal Fire Academy for Girls would never attempt to teach her this type of nuance—the wild, exotic beauty of a different culture.

She wondered what the North Pole would be like. What the South Pole was like.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Azula waited too long to say, and Sokka should have called her out on it. He didn’t. This was important for him to know, wasn’t it? She admitted that she had been unstable. That the perfect tactician and fighter was broken, flawed. Azula had said that with comparative ease but still could not drudge up this loss. He’d judge her for it. He’d think about all the signs she missed, all the stupid little hints that could have clued her into yet another betrayal, and the worst part of it all was that she would admire him for it.

But he did need more detail. She did need to make sure this went off without a hitch, that she was able to expunge this thorn in her side, this parasite, and focus on herself and her country. Azula sat up on the wagon. The rustling was too loud, but Sokka still didn’t turn. She really wanted to see his face. “I’ll…I’ll explain when we camp.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. Sokka, you deserve to know.” Why would he even offer that?

His shoulders hunched, and she tried to read the little body language she could see and became frustrated when she couldn’t. Stances she could read. An attack or a block. Even when negotiating, she was able to look for a fidget or a tinge in the lip and know what she should say next, what string to pull to have someone completely unravel. But this was different. This wasn’t combative. This wasn’t someone she wanted to fool or lie to.

She was terrible at this. And she shouldn’t have felt nearly as petrified as she did.  

It was most likely pure exhaustion that led her to fall asleep. She was sore almost everywhere. The road was bumpy, uneven, truly off the beaten path, and she wanted to thank Sokka but thought better. He’d think she was buttering him up, and maybe she would be.

The sun wouldn’t rise for a few hours. It would be enough time for Sokka to nap and restart the journey north. “I am capable of maneuvering a wagon.” Azula jumped from the back. She felt better. The gnawing acid in her gut had relaxed. Her eyes felt lighter, and besides the soreness, her body felt refreshed after a quick nap and reset.

Sokka looked miserable. His wolf’s tail was tangled, frizzed, and his eyes were shrouded with dark, puffed skin. He grimaced as he climbed from the cart. His hand lightly touched his right leg, and he pulled out his bag for the cream. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re practically a cripple.” She swiped the ointment from his hand and gestured to a noise deeper in the woods. “There’s running water nearby. Let me clean it. You’re too much of a corpse.” So much for buttering him up.

“Aren’t you sweet?” His face didn’t match his sarcasm. Though body language outside of a fight may be harder, the smile on his face was blatant and large. He looked absolutely gleeful as he ungracefully tugged his bedroll from the back and spread it out on the dirt. Sokka untied his pants. The wrappings had shifted since she last tied him, and the beginnings of pus started to bleed through.

It looked too painful. If she had been a second later…

“Sort of cold.”

She didn’t feel that way. The contours of his muscled legs were highlighted in the still darkness of morning, and she found herself appreciative, following the sharp angles of his quad, the deep curves of his calf. Sokka bent his legs up to rub his shins, and she darted her gaze away. The acid was gone, replaced by an empty flutter in her stomach and chest. When was the last time she felt like this? Was there even a last time?

“No one asked you to take off your pants.” She could hit herself.

“Not with words.” Sokka was sly, smirking. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to punch him or kiss him.

Maybe both.

What was wrong with her?

Frustrated, Azula cut her losses and headed towards the stream, one of her empty vials and the Komodo rhino in tow. The animal seemed grateful for the break and the drink but was in her opinion too quick to want to go back to Sokka and the wagon. Their campsite was barely a clearing. Small trees and rocks seemed to cover every inch not occupied by the wagon and Sokka’s bedroll. She didn’t bother to lay out her own—she’d sleep in the cart again—but for now, Azula kneeled next to Sokka, uncomfortably close.

Sokka didn’t say anything as she leaned over his body and poured the cool stream water over the wound. Was she being gentle? She wouldn’t say so. She was being careful, surgical, but he seemed to look at her warmly—no large smile or joking smirk. Just big eyes and relaxed face, even as she spread the cream on already blistered skin.

She didn’t know what to make of it.

She didn’t know why her fingers wandered. Why she liked the feeling of hard muscle and strands of dark hair against her. He wasn’t smooth or perfect. The burn mark was one of many on his legs, and the skin itself was dotted with green and blue bruises and a thin layer of hair. She liked it. The look of him. The feel of him. She tried to guess at the smaller, older scars, and knew that some were very old—too old even for his time with the Avatar.

Azula’s curiosity got the better of her. “When were you trained?”

“Huh?” Sokka stuttered.

She looked at him. His relaxed nature seemed to have melted away, and she started to rewrap the burn. “As a warrior.” She bit her lip. “You keep insisting you are one after all.”

“My dad tried to teach me everything he knew before he left.”

“Left?”

Sokka didn’t answer. He reclined back on the bedroll, chest deflating.

Oh.

“The raids on the Southern Water Tribe ended when I was still very young.” She finished and pressed the bandages down tightly against his skin. “It was before that?”

“My memory’s a little murky to be honest with you. Do you ever feel like that? That…I don’t know. That some moments that should be important are watered down? Like you should remember every detail and feeling but you just come up…”

“Blank,” she finished, and Sokka jerked up, leaning on his elbows. Azula handed him his pants.

He didn’t stand to put them on. The distance between them was maintained, maybe even shortened as he bent forward to pull one pant leg over, then the next. His breath almost hit her neck as he said, “I feel that way about my mother.”

She…

She didn’t need to say it, did she?

“Oh.”

“You.” Sokka paused. “You must know Ursa though? Isn’t that why you reacted the way you did? When we found her?”

Azula wanted to run. She didn’t want to talk about this—had never even wanted to broach the subject of her mother—but Sokka was touching her. His hand was on her forearm, rubbing, squeezing, and she found herself bending against him. “I don’t think my memory is completely accurate.”

“We have that in common.” His voice was serious, muffled, and heavy, and Azula could feel herself unable to exhale. “I didn’t expect that.”

“What?”

“That,” he repeated. “Or…” Both hands were on her now, angling up her forearms, over her shoulders, until they rested on her collarbone.

Her heart was knocking down her chest, skin bristling at the rough, foreign fingers on her neck. What now? Azula panicked. What now? What do I do?

Sokka looked exhausted, weary-eyed, and she grabbed his wrists to tug him off her. It was anything but gentle. “Sokka, you’re about to fall over.”

He shook his head, childish and distinctly annoyed. “No, I’m not.”

“And the sun is rising already. See? We must have miscalculated. It’s…” Azula blinked. That couldn’t be right.  “The sun’s rising on the wrong side.”

He paled. “It is?”

“You’re not a good liar,” Azula stood up, and Sokka scrambled to follow. “Why are we going west?”

“Azula…”

“We need to go north.” Was this a trick? Was he done with her and planning to go back to the Fire Nation already? “We can’t go back to Zuko now. Or rather, I can’t. I’m not finished.”

“We’re not going back to Zuko, I promise.”

“Promise?” She sniffed, and her stance became offensive, hands on her hips, chin high. Sokka glanced down but didn’t back away, didn’t so much as flinch. Was she losing her edge? Azula scowled. “Then care to explain where you’re taking me?”

“Republic City.”

Her head jerked back in confusion. “Why?”

“Because traveling all the way to the North Pole in a wagon when we’re on an expedited timeline is dumb.” Sokka, apparently believing he’s won, went back to the ground. “It would take weeks.”

“Only a Fire Nation navy ship can handle that journey.”

“Did I say we’re taking a ship?” He maneuvered onto his side, ready to sleep.

Azula used her foot to roll him onto his back again. She needed to look at his face but was still unsatisfied when he didn’t seem at all intimidated. Sokka arched an eyebrow and dusted away the dirt left on his stomach. “What?”

“What are we taking?”

“We were supposed to talk about why these people want to kill you, and instead you’re asking me about transport?” Sokka yawned. “Princess, you have your priorities a little…”

She fell on top of him. His breath fell into a collapsing oof, and Azula let her weight plunge into him, hands resting firmly on his pectorals. She had meant to be threatening, forceful, but the ambition was gone when she felt how warm he was, how close they were. Her words were smooth as silk, “How are we getting there, Sokka?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and Sokka wrapped his hands-on top of hers, bent his knees so they were barely touching her back. “Air bison?”

She could rip his heart out.

Chapter Text

“Just—wait—Azula!”

Shit.

She was going to leave. She was going to take the cart and abandon him on this sideroad at the rate she was moving and harnessing the Komodo rhino back to the cart. Sokka scrambled to follow her. His leg throbbed as he hobbled over, but Azula didn’t jostle the reins or click for the animal to start. She waited. The princess stood in front of the driver’s seat. Her face was furious, pointed, and tight as she stared at him, gestured to his supplies still on the ground, and snapped, “Get in right now.”

She’s not leaving?

He fully expected her to. The wagon should have been charging kilometers away from him, but instead she towered over him with her hands on her hips and a furious flicker in her eyes. Sokka shouldn’t have felt happy about it, yet there it was. “No.”

“What?”  Her lips twisted. The red lipstick had long ago been wiped clean from her face, but she was still imposing, still absurdly beautiful.

No, he needed to stand his ground. “My idea makes the most sense.”

“Sokka, get in the cart.”

“Just listen for a minute.”

She scoffed and jumped to the ground. The green pants and tunic looked suddenly wrong on her. She needed armor colored black and red. She needed a golden crown and long nails and the easy drip and bent of someone who could absolutely destroy him.

Oh, wait. She still had that.

Azula tugged him down by the collar of his jacket, and Sokka allowed himself to lean forward, to look her in the eye. Their noses practically touched, and Azula growled against him. The vibration rattled his core. “You can’t convince me this is a good idea.”

“I can’t?” He raised an eyebrow. Was she still mad? Could he touch her again? Looking at her now, all Sokka could read was a challenge. Pure and simple. And he was never one to back away. “I can be very persuasive.”

“So, I’ve seen.” Her grip loosened. Sokka stood straight to his full height, and the tip of her nose rubbed at his neck. The sensation went straight through him, all the way down, in a way that made denying this attraction not only impossible but unwanted. He wondered—not for the first or second or even third time—how she’d react if he touched her cheek, her waist. If he leaned down to kiss her.

Has Azula ever been kissed?

She was awkward at the contact, severity drained, and though it could have been a lack of sexual experience, it was equally likely it was because he was Sokka. He was still the snow peasant with a boomerang who threatened her under the Fire Nation capital. She was still the girl who shot Aang through the chest with lightning. Who locked Suki in prison. Who almost killed her mom and half-sister.

The princess created distance and rubbed at her nose. There was a well in her eyes, shining like burnt glass, vulnerable and uncharacteristically petrified. It was then incredibly obvious to Sokka that Azula wasn’t that girl. She wasn’t the same. “The Avatar will want me in chains.”

His chest clenched. “I’ll deal with Aang.”

“And your sister wants me dead.”

“I’ll explain what we’re doing. You’re trying to help Zuko.” His words were unconvincing. Azula looked brittle, as if she would snap in half if he tugged her one way. But he needed a change in tactics and maybe an excuse to touch her. He leaned his right arm on her, fingers tapping at her shoulder blade. Azula’s hardened frown began to wobble. Sokka snatched at the opening, “I won’t let them do that to you.”

“How could I possibly trust you?”

“I would have done the same, you know,” Sokka swallowed, placed his left arm parallel to his right.

She looked at his grip, puzzled, and snarled. “What do you mean?”

“In Ba Sing Se. If I had one task, one thing to accomplish, and if I saw my opening…”

“You would have wasted your time interrogating some girl against a wall,” Azula quipped.

“Depends on the girl.” And it wasn’t meant to sound sensual, but it did. He could feel her back muscles pulse under his thumbs, and he was heady, tired of just touching her arms and shoulders. Sokka hesitated, over thinking immensely before allowing his right hand to dip lower and rest on her rib cage. This was wrong and bad in an endless combination of ways, but that was muted compared to her. His knuckles grazed the soft underside of her breast, and for all his totally put-on aloofness, Azula definitely noticed.

“I know you would have killed my father.” And her words dampened the mood, but Sokka retained his hold, risking his left hand to fall in line with his right. She felt tiny. That was surprising. Azula was an unstoppable force—prodigious and confident and flawless—but here she felt only human. She felt like warmth and skin. The fabric of her tunic stuck to the sweat of his palm, and he could feel every inhale, every deep ridge of her bones curving into the hard abdomen.

“I’m not too heroic for that?” His thumbs rubbed her center. She felt tight, unyielding, and a strange memory popped into his head of Aang and Katara talking about chakras. It had always sounded like mystical bullshit, but he tried to understand it now, the piece in her chest. The part of her that seemed twisted, grotesque, and painful. Sokka pushed his fingers deeper, and at Azula’s sudden gasp, he found himself not really caring about spirituality anymore.

She was stiff across him, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment most likely. “No, not for Ozai. You would have done it.” His breath caught in his throat as her gaze shifted towards his fingers. “Why do you think I chose to provoke you?”

“Easy target?” It was getting harder to breath, and Sokka waited for Azula to relax into him. That was what normally happened next. He waited for the standard deeper dip, the typical sultry smile, her hands on his chest or through his hair and then…and then…

No. Nothing about this was typical.  

Azula raised an eyebrow, expectant but unreadable besides the color on her cheeks.

“That was also a factor.” Her thumbs slipped between his hands and her chest. It was harder than he expected, but not painful. Not angry by his actions like he thought she might be. “I don’t know how to be sorry for it.” Azula’s grip was tight. “I don’t know if I even am.”

“Maybe it won’t come up in conversation?” The look she flashed immediately shot him down. Sokka sighed. “Azula, just do the math for a second. Even if you have to escape from whatever prison my sister sends you to, we’ll still get to the North Pole faster than if we continue in the cart.”

She smiled. “You’re right about that.”

“I know. I’ve actually been right this whole time. And you two got along enough when we were trying to find your mom. The kidnapping, uh, incident couldn’t have been nearly as bad as everything else we went through.”

“It wasn’t.” Azula pushed his hands deeper into her as if she were testing the feel on her own body. Sokka didn’t stop her, could barely hear over the sound of blood rushing to his face and down between his legs. The princess bit her bottom lip. “You’re sure about this?”

Sokka nodded. The doubt became obvious on her face, and he broke away to their packs. “I did the math if you want actual numbers. Going back to Republic City should take a few days, but Appa should be able to make the trip up north in two days if we push it. That’s…”

“No. About me.”

He jostled from his kneeling position, dropping the rolled parchment onto the ground. She was serious, and though the words were exposing, Azula’s posture and face tried so, so hard not to show it. Sokka squatted. He couldn’t process this. “Am I sure about you?”

“Yes.” Azula did not move down to meet him, and he wished she did, if only to buy him some time. He didn’t know how to answer her.

Sokka trusted her in a fight. He trusted her in the sense that she’d keep him around for as long as he was useful. She was different. Azula was calmer and stable, the razor-sharp edge worn down but still deadly. And he couldn’t help but feel that she was waiting to be unsheathed, for the tumult to pierce through this armored layer when presented with the right target.

She's different.

Sokka liked calculated risks. He liked plans and schedules. He liked knowing that he thought of every option, that the route he was pursuing was logical, efficient, and productive. And what little he knew of Azula said she operated similarly. The Fire Nation princess was always at least two steps ahead of him, and what if this was happening again? What if he was still being dragged through a tunnel, baited and provoked so that she could achieve her real goal?

But honestly? That didn’t really matter. She may have been different—and he still wasn’t sure whether it was his gut or his brain or his dick that thought so— but Sokka couldn’t just say no. He couldn’t admit that he wasn’t 100% certain she wouldn’t combust, that next time, more than just his leg would be burnt, that she wasn’t the best liar he had ever seen and he was being manipulated.

Trust your gut.

Sokka closed his eyes. He did. He really did, but there was a shred of doubt in him, a splinter embedded deep in his skin.  

“I am.” He tried to keep his voice steady, and it came out easier than he expected, more…honest.

Azula blinked across from him, and before he could think to ask her again if they could go to Republic City, she embraced him, arms tightly pinching his sides. His core shook against her, black hair tickling his nose as she fit her head against his shoulder. Sokka moved to return her hug, but Azula, almost skittish, took a couple long steps back. “I…” She looked almost angry. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“I do.” He touched a finger to her chin. “I’m pretty charming.”

“You mean insufferable.”

“I say what I mean. Unlike some people.”

“I’ll go to Republic City.” Azula crossed her arms. “How’s that for clarity?”

He’d take it.

For now.

There were more terrifying moments than this in her life. Disappointing her father. Being bent over and almost drowned by Sokka’s sister. Losing Mai. Losing Ty Lee. Losing her damn sense of reality. Seeing the Avatar and Katara again should not make the list. Azula sat carefully on Sokka’s floor. The trip back to Republic City was uneventful besides a growing familiarity between her and the Water Tribesman. Sokka had agreed to hand over the reins, and Azula promised she would explain more of her “past” in front of the Avatar. She didn’t feel like repeating the story more than necessary, and undoubtedly Sokka would want to share the information with his friend and sister. The agreement was made easily, with a quick handshake, and an uncalled-for rush of warmth dotting her cheeks and neck. It felt like when she first learned bending. Even for her, it was awkward. It was new steps and bends and angles, and her fire had been small and flickering. Sokka… made her feel the same. Out of control of her own body. Struggling. Uncomfortable. Knowing that if she could just move a certain way, build more power, breathe better, she could create something incredible.

That clumsiness hadn’t lasted long for her as a child. She was a master at bending, but this? Her one prior attempt at anything like this was with that idiot Chan. They had kissed and then he ran and then she subsequently set his house on fire. That had been rather satisfying, and she doubted she would need to do something like that to Sokka. Sokka…he wouldn’t run if she kissed him, would he? He would maybe scratch his head awkwardly, say some crass, nervous-driven joke, and then politely reject her. Because he would reject her. He had to. He was logical, a tactician, and it didn’t even take that much intellectual ostrich horse power to know they couldn’t work.

What couldn’t work?

It would be different with Sokka than with Chan, and Azula couldn’t believe that Chan was her only benchmark, the only bar to which she was able to judge anything against.

Not that this is anything.

Sokka touched her sometimes. Sometimes his voice would drop lower and hit her right in the chest. He would stare at her, blue eyes wide and expressive, and it was hard to read if that were attraction or nervousness or just him. Azula watched as he opened the doors to his apartment one more time. They failed to return the two ostrich horses to the boy but made up for it with the more expensive komodo rhino and cart. The boy had grumbled but accepted the exchange, and Sokka said a few choice words himself before dragging her back to his apartment.

 Sokka gestured to his couch again for her to sit, and Azula shook her head. “I’d like to take another look at your library.”

“It’s barely that.” His entire face brightened. “The one at your palace is a lot nicer.”

“You’ve seen it?” She raised an eyebrow, but of course he had. Sokka was friends with Zuko. He worked with Zuko. Of course, he’d been to her old home. It was hard to picture him there. Blue and tan and probably sweating in the volcanic heat. She wondered if he wore his traditional Water Tribe clothes or if Zuko offered something lighter and redder. It would certainly look better than his current wardrobe, and Azula found she had a strong desire to see it on him. To see him there.

“It was my hiding spot for a while after…” Sokka stopped suddenly. “Forget about it. I borrowed a bunch of books from there too. You were reading one before.”

“My school textbook.”

“It was?” He scratched at his hair and swung the door to his office open. “You’ll be okay in here? I’m just going to clean up.”

“I’ll somehow survive.” She didn’t wait for Sokka to respond or even leave and headed towards the back desk. She also could benefit from freshening up before meeting the Avatar, but she’d let Sokka go first. Azula still didn’t have any fresh clothes—all the clothes Sokka had bought for her were now travel-worn and dirty. She'd look like a mess, a frail shadow of her former self. 

Perhaps they’ll pity me. The thought disgusted her, and she no longer felt like flipping mindlessly through Sokka’s books. She instead sat at his desk and pulled away the heavy curtains blocking the window. The room flooded with light, of the bustling, growing city below. She thought it was idiotic for Zuko to rescind the colonies. And it was, wasn’t it? Why give up land? Why give up power, control for something so chaotic? A stewing mess of people and norms and cultures? This was bound to be a disaster.

Wasn’t it?

But her eyes caught the buildings crafted and carved from earthbenders, the chimney stacks that puffed so constant that it must have been from firebending. And there was Sokka’s indoor plumbing, clean and perfect and initially guided, she was sure, by a waterbender. It was chaotic and blemished and crude, but in an odd way, beautiful.

Sokka’s schematics, however, were just crude, and Azula picked up the one she had noticed earlier on his desk—the weird circular object outlined with math and lightning bolts. It both fascinated and annoyed her that she couldn’t figure out what the thing was. Was it something Sokka had seen in some remote Earth Kingdom village? Some technology hidden away? She doubted it. He had somehow created this thing from his head.

“Impressed?”

“Yes.” She answered flatly, curiosity overriding pride for a moment. Sokka had managed to creep up on her, and she felt his fingers lean against her shoulder. He smelled like lavender and basalt, and her chest tightened, chi emboldening. Azula was afraid to turn around and face him.

“Oh, um, really?” He sounded younger then, and Sokka put his weight on her as he leaned forward. “You like this kind of stuff?”

Did she? “I don’t even know what this stuff is.”

“That’s only because it doesn’t exist yet. I’ll explain it to you.” He moved away from her back, but his left arm was still draped around her shoulders, still covering her and making her feel impossibly warm and sensitive. “You know how you had that giant drill that we destroyed outside of Ba Sing Se?”

Oh, did she. “I’m always up for a rematch.”

“I’m sure you are. But I was actually more interested in the mechanics of it. The hydraulics were incredible, and the ability to turn the mechanical energy from water to electrical was pretty efficient.”

Azula allowed herself to look at him and felt a harsh slam to her heart. Sokka spoke with such fervor, such light in his eyes and face, and she oscillated between feeling entranced and envious. “So you designed a new use for the hydraulics?”

“Only better. What if we could use the same premise for a broader energy source? Water is a cleaner solution than standard coal. And electrical energy can be used for…”

“Why use water?” Azula interrupted. A better solution was obvious to her and she held up a hand, fingers together. “Why not go straight to the source?”

He pinched her fingers together carefully, as if she had already had the lightning in her hand. She felt her face flush at the skin-to-skin contact, no matter how innocent. Sokka let a smirk slide on his face. “We’re not all as talented at bending as you.”

“Some inferiors can’t bend at all.” She was tongue-in-cheek.

His arm slid along her back, flushed against her clothes and skin. “This inferior has some clothes and a bath if you want.”

She didn’t want to move from under him but saying that was impossible. And she needed to prepare. For both a negotiation and a fight.

“Don’t worry.”

The words were for both him and Azula, but he directed them towards the princess. She needed them more despite the dread in him starting to over boil. Aang would be fine. He knew that. Aang would be skeptical and questioning, but at the end of it all, would see the importance of their mission and the difference in Azula and be okay.

But as the small rowboat to Air Temple Island dragged them closer and closer, Sokka thought mostly about how to handle Katara.

He could go on the offensive. Mention how both Gran Gran and Dad would basically call what she and Aang were doing “living in sin” and that could distract her from anything else. He could explain that he needed Azula to save Zuko, and yeah, it was a risk, but there wasn’t really any other good option anyway. He could defend Azula. He would defend Azula. She saved his life in Omashu. She was trying to save her brother. Maybe she wasn’t Zuko-level redeemed but did she have to be for Sokka to want to protect her? To trust her?

She would say yes.

Katara had not been the most welcoming to Zuko either when he had found them in the Western Air Temple. And what Azula had done, what Azula continued to do…

“It looks like a prison.”

Azula wrapped herself tightly in Sokka’s blue coat. The wind off the bay was frigid, howling, and Sokka hoped that the princess wasn’t conserving her bending energy for a fight. “Does it?” He covered the wind from his eyes to take another look. Construction was ongoing—the large tower more hallmark of the Air Temples was only halfway complete, and there were more and more houses being built for the growing base of Aang’s fan club. The surrounding fog of the bay did, however, make the small house that was Katara and Aang’s home eerier than normal. Well, it was either that or Sokka’s company.

He thanked the Air Acolyte for the trip across the bay and offered Azula a hand on to the dock. She took it sheepishly, hesitating to let go as Sokka led her down the familiar path to his sister’s house. The island itself was beautiful—lush with trees and gardens. “There’s a space for meditation here if you need it, Azula.”

She squeezed his hand a bit and then dropped it completely. “That’s…good to know.”

The stairs up and up from the beach were long and steep, and Sokka hesitated as the wooden door of the main house came into view. Appa was outside, and a brief flicker of just taking the air bison and heading off without an introduction may be the easiest wat to go. Aang would never forgive me. The last thing they needed was an angry Avatar on their trail.

Sokka raised his hand to knock on the door but stopped as Azula reached and gripped his knuckles. “Say what you need to.” Her voice was quiet under the wind. “Say whatever you need to about me to let us go.”

“What do…” Sokka turned to her completely. Her eyes were firmly on the ground, nails still scratching along the rough patch of skin on his hand. “The truth is enough.”

“Is it? That I want to go and kill some Water Tribe traitor? That we practically set a street in Omashu ablaze?” Azula took  step away from him. “I can wait out here. Hide. Pretend you’re still looking for me.”

“No. My sister will know that I’m lying. You can do this, Azula. One of Aang’s main tenets of monk-ness is forgiveness, and Katara will follow along with Aang.”

“She doesn’t necessarily seem like the ‘follow along’ type.”

He couldn’t really argue that, but he could try to comfort her more. Sokka wanted to hug her, to drag her closer, place a light kiss on her forehead, her palms, but he settled for a touch to her cheek. Azula looked at his hand in confusion. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry about Katara or Aang.”

The princess swallowed and nodded once, which Sokka took as an okay to move forward. He knocked once, twice, but no one came. Strange. Appa was here and usually Aang would be bouncing to the door for some company. Sokka didn’t like the break from pattern, and he felt nervous. The door to house was luckily unlocked, and Sokka slowly pushed it open to their kitchen and sitting room, expecting to see his too deaf sister and her boyfriend only to see…someone completely different.

The man was older, with a long beard and white hair. He was shorter looking but strong, and Sokka felt Azula reach desperately for his hand. Her hand tremored, shook, but Sokka tried to steady it, tried to soothe her as Azula made her way through the doorframe.

The man stood from his seat on the floor, leaving behind a cup of steaming hot tea. The expression on his face was unfamiliar but undeniably sad, remorseful. “Hello Sokka.” A nod. “Princess Azula.”

Azula only seemed to grip him tighter. “Hello, Uncle.”

Chapter Text

It took everything and then some to not sprint out the door immediately. Sokka was an anchor, a weight on her hand and heart as she recognized the man in front of her. What is he doing here? She glanced at Sokka in panic. Was this planned? Was Iroh brought here to help subdue her? To put her back in chains?

The beating in her chest was exhausting, ripping, and she clawed at Sokka’s hand. He looked equally, if not more, shocked than she was, blue eyes wide and darting. The relief filled her immediately. He didn’t betray me. Azula closed her eyes. He didn’t.

“It’s good to see your face.”

It was directed to her, and Azula tugged a bit at her leash. Sokka gripped her harshly, not letting her go. He took a small step back and pushed the door closed behind them with his foot. Her escape would be partially delayed. But she could still do it. She could still…

Iroh touched her shoulder, and her body curved inwards. She looked at her uncle and he seemed so much older. The lines under his eyes were deeper, the glint of gold a fading spark. The Dragon of the West looked not so mighty, not so intolerable, and Azula didn’t know what to do. She could barely remember the last conversation she had with the man. Had he visited her in jail? In the asylum?

No.

Water swelled in her eyes, and she tried to take her hand away from Sokka, but he was relentless. “Azula?”

“Please let me leave.” She could burn him if she wanted to. She could punch him and force him to let go, but she didn’t. Azula backed away towards the door. “Let me go.”

“Okay. Just don’t…don’t go too far.” He released his hold on her hand, and the princess didn’t answer or look at him again before opening the door and going back outside.

Her breath was uncontrollable, body limp and dizzy. She felt infuriated and scared. She felt…forgotten. I need to meditate.

She couldn’t deal with her useless uncle. Not now. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to face him yet and certainly not on some island in Republic City, all dressed in blue and looking nothing like herself. She scanned the open area for the supposed meditation grounds. Most of the lawn directly outside seemed to be vegetable gardens and a pen for the giant air beast. But the further from the house the better. Azula needed to create some distance anyway.

The winding staircase Sokka and her took up to the house continued into the stone and trees. Azula directed her energy there, the wind continuing to pick up and claw at her as she walked each step up. The fog continued to flume and cover the ground, and Azula was careful, watching her feet so intently that she didn’t notice the staircase opening to a circular clearing. The grass was well trimmed, striated shades of blue-green. Embedded in the manicured grass were smooth, grey stones, in some sort of pattern impossible to tell from Azula’s eye-level. There was a larger stone in the dead center and a dried-reed mat laying on top of it. Azula approached it eagerly and fell into a cross-legged stance. She let her shoulders collapse, her chest fall, her mind attempt to move slower and slower until nothing.

“Now this is surprising.”

She spasmed. Peace gone. Darkness evaporating to reveal a fat man in a green robe and a sloppy top knot. Azula tugged her knees into her chest and rested her elbows on top. She was stronger than this. She was. “That I’m not dead yet? Sorry to disappoint you.”

Her uncle let out a long, hard sigh and fell into lotus. His position would normally appear submissive. Lower height. Open posture. But Azula knew better. Iroh straightened his back. “I meant seeing you here.”

“Safe to say I wasn’t expecting you either.” She tapped her knees. “Why are you here?”

“The Avatar brought me here from Ba Sing Se. Zuko is worried about us.” He closed his eyes, a gentle hum escaping his lips. “But I wanted to see the progress of Republic City first. This sure is peaceful.”

“It was.”

“I also did not take you for the type to meditate.” Another obnoxious hum and a deep, loud intake of breath. “You can feel the air, can’t you? It slowly stokes the fire in your core.”

“Fascinating.”

“And with a firm base and fluid mind, meditation embodies all four elements. An equal push and pull that brings you…”

“Let’s just cut to it. Shall we?” Azula jumped from her spot on the rock, feet landing smoothly on the ground in front of her uncle. Iroh’s eyes were still closed, not even fazed by her proximity and sudden motion. How typical. Could he not even look at her? Was she that much of a failure to him? You’ve always been. She scowled but didn’t let the negative thought take over. That would drive her to anger and a fight, and she still needed the Avatar’s air bison when this was all said and done. Azula let out a deep sigh. “What nauseating proverb would you like to moralize me with today?”

Iroh opened his eyes, a fierceness that reminded her of her father present and glowing if only for an instant. He stood from his position and gestured to the stairs. “I’ve only come to bring you back to the house. Sokka is worried about you.”

Her eyebrow lifted. He is? Azula’s cheeks warmed at the thought, and she dipped her head in an attempt to hide it. “Then he should have come after me.”

“He wanted to, but I insisted he wait for his sister.”

So Aang and Katara were here after all. They had probably caught them out of the house for some reason. Azula turned her gaze to the stairs. Neither of her options looked good. Stay here and try to force Iroh to go away or go and finally deal with the Avatar and Katara? Actually, the decision was very simple. Azula started to head down the stairs when Iroh grabbed her wrist. His grip was strong, but not forceful. Azula still jerked back from the contact.

Her uncle cleared his throat. “I’d like to discuss something with you first, Princess Azula.”

“I know I was a terrible child, Uncle.” Azula didn’t try to remove his hold from her. “I know you couldn’t love me, and I don’t blame you for it.”

His fingers fell at her words. “You judge yourself too harshly.”

“I’ve learned from the best.” She bit back. Azula still couldn’t face him. Could only focus on the stairs and the ocean and the knowledge that Sokka was worried. He was worried and she should go back to him. “I’m curious though.” Her hair was tangled in the wind, catching in her mouth. She spat it out. “When did you realize it was too late for me?”

“Sokka!”

There was a roll and crash of what looked like cabbages as Aang opened the door and spotted him drinking Iroh’s leftover tea. The Avatar was in front of him immediately, hands in the air and a large smile taking up most of his face. “What a surprise! We wanted to find you when we were in the Fire Nation!”

He twisted his head in confusion. “Wait, you both were in the Fire Nation? When?”

“Not too long ago. Hi, Sokka.” Katara set a woven basket of root vegetables and gourds down near the kitchen, carefully stepping over the numerous cabbages Aang had dropped in excitement. His sister sighed in exasperation but then knelt to give her brother a tight hug. “Did Iroh let you in? Where is he?”

“He’s…” Sokka set the cup of tea down. Could Katara bend tea? It was just leaf water. He moved the tea pot a little further away just to be sure. Okay, this is easy. One. Two. Three… “He’s with, uh, Azula?”

Katara blinked. Her body seemed frozen next to him, and Aang’s grin deflated. Breathe, Sokka. So far no one was screaming or bending. That was a good sign. His sister stared blankly at him until a frenzied smile broke her face. Katara fell into a cross-legged position next to him and shoved his arm, laughing. “What a weird joke!”

Aang cocked his head to the side. “You usually tell funnier jokes than that…”

“It’s not a joke,” he tried to explain as seriously as possible. Sokka rubbed his hands on his legs. He could do this. He could. “I came here with Azula.”

The strange laughter from his sister immediately quieted. “No, you didn’t.”

Aang scratched his head, mouth opening and closing like a gulping fish. “What do you mean with?”

“I did.” He would ignore what Aang said for forever. Sokka steadied his posture. “Come on, we’re older now. We’re mature, reasonable adults. Why don’t both of you sit down, and I can calmly…”

“What is she doing here?!” Katara exploded next to him, the tone in her voice darkening and reaching a turbulent fever pitch. The waterbender went to the windows and glanced outside desperately. Sokka could tell by her movement, her rhythm, that she was ready for a fight. “Did she take Iroh? Is she the one responsible for…”

“No.” His voice sounded heavier than he intended, but he was…angry at Katara’s assumption despite having similar ones himself.

He felt guilty as Aang slowly sat across from him, glancing quickly at his girlfriend before reaching for the tea. His hands stopped mid-motion, maybe having the same thought as Sokka, and he fell into a casual smirk. “So, uh, that’s great? Right? I’m guessing Zuko wanted you to find her too? Um…we can bring her back with Iroh to the Caldera.”

Katara grunted and moved to stand behind Aang, arms crossed. “And put her in the cell she belongs in.”

 “Stop it, Katara.” Sokka tried to keep his voice low, but his anger simmered. He was offended, frustrated, and he rubbed at his nose to distract himself.

“Why are you acting like this?” Katara eyed him skeptically and was soon back by his side, removing his hands from his face, and staring at him closely. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“How did you find her?” Aang asked.

“June.” Spirits bless the Avatar for the poor attempt to change conversation.

“Sokka.” Katara’s voice bit at his thoughts. The contempt was obvious. “You’re acting like you want to defend a psychopath.”

He made a fist on the wooden table, the sudden motion more than the force shocking both Katara and Aang. Sokka shook his head. He needed to act calm. It was a slow strategy for him to figure out, but he’d never win an argument with his sister if it devolved into a screaming match. “You shouldn’t call her that.”

A screaming match, however, seemed to be exactly what Katara wanted. “What? Why not? Do you remember the last time we dealt with her? Do you remember what Aang had to deal with in the Caldera? What did she do, Aang?”

“Uh…kidnap children.”

“Exactly. Murderer, kidnapper…would you like me to pretend she was sane when she did that, Sokka? That’s a lot worse, you know.” Katara pinched his cheeks together. Their blue eyes met dead-on, and Sokka could see the anger, yes, but behind that the deeper, thicker layer of concern. “What did she say to you?”

“You think she manipulated me?” Sokka asked.

“She’s a good liar,” Katara admitted. “But I’d like to think you’re smarter than that.”

I hope I am. “I had all the same thoughts you did, Katara. Zuko asked me to bring Azula home, which I’m guessing he asked you guys to do with Iroh? Anyway, she’s not…she’s not a psychopath, and she’s not manipulating me. She’s trying.”

“Trying?” Katara sniffed. “To what? Be good?”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Sokka…”

“Katara, just listen for a second, okay?” Sokka gave himself some space so that he could see both Aang and Katara equally. Katara looked at him pathetically, as if he had finally jumped the deep end, and maybe she was right. Maybe he had let a both literally and figuratively hot princess finally be his doom—hey, there were worse ways to go—but his gut still screamed that wasn’t what was happening. And it never really led him astray before. “I hated her too. I was suspicious of her too. She’s done some really, really terrible things, and I’m not forgetting that. I know what she did to Suki and what she did to Aang…but who am I to say she can’t change? Maybe she only acted like a monster because she was treated like one.”

Her face was still stern, still looking for the break in him, the word or lilt in his voice that showed this wasn’t his own mind. The silence persisted. Sokka fought with the idea of explaining further or jumping the gun and just asking Aang if he could borrow Appa. He shied away at the unbreaking posture of Katara beside him. He didn’t know what his sister was thinking, if anything he said had gotten through to her at all or if she were just biding her time until she could take Azula back to the Caldera as a prisoner.

“I remember now…something Gyatso used to teach me. It reminded me of the Avatar cycle.”

Sokka’s attention completely switched to Aang’s calm voice. The Avatar reached for the tea pot and gently poured a now cool cup for Katara. Sokka, once again grateful for the change in topic, looked at Aang expectantly. “And what was that?”

“There’s a belief that we all go through a cycle of rebirth and death. That we’re all stuck in a life of continuous suffering and pain that we need to work are way out of.”

“That’s…” He stole a glance at his sister who seemed equally dumbfounded. “Pretty bleak, Aang.”

Aang shook his head. “No, it isn’t really. Everyone goes through this. We try to be better, to end our own suffering through our actions, but we can be misguided. We can act badly or selfishly, and we’re forced to start the cycle over again and again. But it’s not bleak or terrible because you can get out. The whole point of the cycle is to be able to try again, to not be as selfish or as bad and finally be freed.”

“Aang, I love you, but…”

“Katara, Sokka’s right.” Aang’s voice was steady, confident. Sometimes the goofy, twelve-year old boy seemed like a much more distant memory, and Sokka was reminded that the Avatar was not a single person he knew but a collection of lifetimes. “Who are we to say that Azula can’t change?”

Though Sokka was relieved that Aang came to his and Azula’s defense, it was clear that his sister was not. Katara wasn’t happy. Katara was pissed, the lines on her forehead deepening as she took a quick sip of tea. “I won’t forgive her. Even if she apologizes.”

She won’t apologize. “I’m not asking you to forgive her.” Sokka relaxed. This was better. She was budging, if only by a millimeter. “I’m just asking that you treat her like a person. Can you do that?”

“If she ends up hurting…”

“Katara.” Sokka reached out to take his sister’s hand. “Like a person. A stranger even, okay? Just don’t yell and accuse her of being crazy when she walks through the door.”

Katara noticeably made no promises. “Where is she anyway?”

“She needed a break. I think she’s meditating now.” Sokka looked at Aang briefly to see the Avatar practically gleaming at the news. “Iroh said he would try to get her back here.”

His sister huffed, “And you thought that was a good idea?”

“No.” Sokka blinked. “It’s a terrible idea.”

“So, you’re just going to sit here and wait for the Agni Kai in my garden or should I go get them?”

She didn’t have to say any more. Sokka was already heading out the door.

“Too late?”

Azula drummed her fingers on her crossed forearm. She wouldn’t back down. She wanted answers. From her mother. From him. Why had they disregarded her, thrown her to the side? Why had they chosen Zuko and not her? Why couldn’t they love her? She had been perfect. Azula swallowed the thought down. “Was it when I burned all the dolls you bought me?”

Iroh had the audacity to laugh. “No, I actually found that quite funny.”

Her eye twitched. Talking with this man had always been exhausting, and she was particularly wound up today. The biting chill of the island’s wind curled up her spine. “Then what was it?” She stared at him and waited for his answer, patience snapping. “Well?”

Iroh struggled to speak, “Azula…”

“You hate me. Just say it.”

“I do not.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t know what you see me as.” Iroh gestured to the ground in front of him. Did he think she would sit down? He didn’t say anything further, just continued to stare and point to the spot in the well trimmed grass. He was a philosopher, maybe, but also a tactician. Despite his overwhelming faults, General Iroh had been the only soldier besides her to ever break through Ba Sing Se. Azula could understand why.

She bent slowly to the ground, head and shoulders never drooping as she knelt. Azula kept her palms flat on her sides, back stick-straight. The posture reminded her of her childhood, when Iroh was a hero and her grandfather an idol, and she had felt small and desperate to prove herself. Which she had. She had proved herself a thousandfold and she could do it again. “My uncle.”

He shivered. She hadn’t expected that or any physical display of his thoughts. “Is that so?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Even with those words?” He shook his head. “I’m used to your words being shrouded, Princess Azula. But you’re not hiding now, are you?”

She felt like she was constantly hiding. “I’m not the one who speaks in riddles.”

Iroh settled his body across from her, breath deep, body no longer seeming soft and fat. He was substantial in presence and power, but her opponent was wavering, the weakness in his eyes a glint that slowly crept over the rest of his features. “You’re right.”

Azula held back her joy at the affirmation and opted for silence. Her uncle’s beard moved gently in the wind, and he looked like her father. She forgot sometimes that they were siblings, that the thin string of blood that connected him and Ozai was more gnarled and twisted than her and Zuko. How was that even possible?

“I did not love you.”

It was worse hearing it, no matter how unsurprised she was. This was not earth-shattering more than it was prosaic. But still she felt her chest cave inward, the breath leave and halt in her throat causing her to gasp. Azula flexed her fingers, capricious. “When?” No, that was the wrong question. “Why?”

Still a refusal to answer.

“Why, Uncle?” She fidgeted, perfect posture crumbling. “I reminded you too much of my father, didn’t I?”

“His influence was strong on you, but you were a child.”

I was a child. The words were true but foreign. I was his daughter. Azula swallowed. It did nothing to relieve the constriction in her chest. “I see.”

“But, no, that’s not it. Not fully. I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner.”

He was blurred from her vision, just gray and green and wobbling lines, and Azula scratched at her eyes. Fuck. She was weak. When did she become so weak?

“I saw myself, Princess--the famed Dragon of the West. I could see your want for power, your hunger. I saw it so easily because I had felt it once too." His voice was almost inaudible. "Often times, the most horrifying image you can see is just a reflection.”

She was trembling. Her hands—all energy, all electricity—were shaking, and everything—eyes, mind, taste, thought—became muddied. She was five years old wanting to be great. She was eleven watching her brother be humiliated. Fourteen and sitting on the Earth King’s throne. Fifteen and pure chaos and failure and shame. It felt like falling. Like she was being sucked and buried alive. The dark walls of her mind were brittle, collapsing under this weight, this evil, this gnawing feeling that she would never be good enough. Never. Never. Never.

“I don’t know how to do this.” She didn’t know what she was even talking about.

“Princess…”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Azula.”

Sokka.

He cut through the noise, the memories, the water marring her vision. He was all light blue and dark brown, ocean and earth, and her body finally collapsed as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing, gripping as if he knew she needed to be caught.

“You’re okay.” Sokka had no idea what they were talking about, and he was so incredibly wrong. She wasn’t okay. She was a mess. She was scarred. She was broken. She was a far, far cry from any previous perfection. How could that be okay? Still, he repeated himself. “You’re okay.”

“How?” It was low, barely spoken.

“I’m here.” And he was sincere. Eyes open, clear. No hint of a lie. No hint of duplicity or disloyalty or that he even remembered who she was and what she had done. Again, he repeated himself. “I’m here.”

His hands were rough in her hair, carelessly dragging through knots in an attempt to soothe her. She didn’t need it. She didn’t need this coddling, this touch beyond the feel of her cheek flushed against his chest. The deep, bass of his heartbeat dammed the spiral. A calm followed, cathartic, numbing. “I want to leave.”

He didn’t move away. His wide shoulders blocked the island’s chill. “We’ll leave, but we aren’t done here.”

“Sokka…” She closed her eyes and the tears fell, warm and salt down her face. Her sight cleared, and Sokka overwhelmed her. Face still, hollow. Pupils the same color of her fire, large and enflamed. He was terrified, but for her. For her and not of her. The difference was small but everything, and Azula hated it. She hated showing him this, and she forced herself to hold her chin high. “I’m okay.”

He was right. They weren’t done here.

She had to speak to Aang. Speak to Katara. Sokka had to convince them to let them take the air bison, and she had to play the stable, good girl. That plan seemed shattered, and she looked at her uncle, malice returning. “I accept your apology.” Her voice was clipped, harsh. It was a lie and not a very good one. She was losing her touch. “On one condition.”

Iroh stood from his position on the floor. He looked to Sokka then back to her, puzzled. “Azula…”

“I can’t go with you back to Zuzu.” She slowly rose from her position on the ground, Sokka clinging to her arms as if she might shatter. She felt tight. She felt compacted and bottled and he was right to hold her down. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what this apology is about. So, we can all go back and pretend we’re one big, happy family while someone wants us dead? I commend the thought that a united front would help us, General, but I’m betting my tiles on a different maneuver.”

His face fell to a flat line. “What do you want, Azula?”

“To be left alone. No interference for Sokka or I. No Zuzu sending reinforcements. I don’t need it. We don’t. You’ll fuck it up.”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore, amber eyes trained on Sokka. It was frustrating, infuriating, and Sokka only has to give a slight nod for her uncle to relent. What is that about?

“I will be sure of it.” Iroh bowed. “But I ask that you explain your maneuver.”

Azula looked to Sokka. He nodded. She relented. Damn it. “Fine.”

“And where you’ve been the last three years.”

It was something she intended to do anyway, but the anxiety still shot straight up her back and through her stomach. Azula said nothing but returned the bow, bangs falling and sticking to her still wet cheeks. They rise back up simultaneously, harmonious, and Iroh smiled before slipping his hands into his robes and leading them back down the hill.

Chapter Text

She didn’t know why Sokka felt comfortable holding her hand down the hill and staircase, through the gardens, and on the approach to Aang and Katara’s front door. Iroh was a constant reminder in front of them, a paragon of everything she was trying to do but failing at so incredibly. Sokka should have known better than to deepen their association. What are you thinking?

His grip on her was warm and unyielding, and Sokka looked angry. Brow furrowed, normal sarcastic grin flat and pained. She didn’t know what was affecting him so much, but it hurt her. Azula missed the softness of his smile, contrasting starkly with the deep angles of his cheekbones, the cold, intelligent sheen in his eyes. She had been on the receiving end of this emotion before, and her wrists prickled at the memory. What had she thought of him then? He had been nothing to her. A thorn in her side, a bug she’d have to step on or over to get what she wanted. Sokka had been no one but an obstacle. The idea seemed foreign.  

Her uncle pushed through the wooden door, and Sokka moved to follow, but Azula’s stillness dragged him back. He turned and looked at her, eyes widening and head cocking to the side in confusion. “Azula?”

His voice was like a swift kick to the temple. “Don’t make this harder for yourself.” She raised their joined hands and dropped his effortlessly. At least, she wanted it to appear effortless despite her feelings. Despite wanting him to never let go.

Sokka stuttered but said nothing at the open door. He looked at her, and she felt as if the blue were boring into every piece and fragment of her skin. “Whenever you’re ready.”

That would be never, but every second that she waited out here was a waste of time, another opportunity for the Kemurikage to plan and fundraise and attempt to deal another blow to her family.

She had been so distracted by the shock of her uncle before that the simple nature of the home hadn’t even registered. For someone as prolific and powerful as the Avatar, the home he shared with Katara was only lightly furnished, a strange blend of what she presumed to be Southern Water Tribe décor and a minimalist aesthetic. A few scrolls framed on the walls. A few pots of green plants and herbs bent towards the window, but besides that, there was nothing of substantial note or even value. Katara and Aang were already seated, a new pot of tea front and center and steaming. Azula tabulated it immediately. That was one water source. Then there was the pouch on Katara’s hip. The sink was another, and who knew what pipes were currently running underneath them.

And he’s the Avatar. He could take away my bending, and then what?

It was pointless to try and figure out how she could fight her way out of this, but the habit was slow to die. The Avatar stared at her, face all too friendly for someone she had skewered with lightning. His head lowered slightly at the sight of Iroh, and Azula found herself bowing.

“You guys, um, know Azula?” Sokka pointed his thumb at her, sweaty and feebly cavalier. He was struggling to make himself seem inculpable and smart about letting her walk into this house and asking for a favor. Her. Azula. She felt her heart twist.

Azula approached the table slowly, head low, and proceeded to go on her knees. She had done this before, often with her grandfather and less so when her own father took the throne. But the motion, though difficult, felt different here. She was deferent, subservient, but there was no flicker of power on Aang or Katara’s face, no expectation or blistering conceit. Custom would have her go lower, to bend all the way and touch her forehead to the floor, but she was still not…she wasn’t apologetic.

“First off, I’m not here as your opponent or a threat.” Azula allowed herself to look up. Katara was all ice. Sharp, jagged, cold. The Avatar remained blank, which was somehow worse. “I hope you can see me that way.”

Silence.

Her palms started to sweat, and Azula rubbed her pants slowly, not wanting to show the encroaching anxiety. Katara moved a hand to her cup of tea and took a sip, eyes never wavering from Azula’s face. “I promised I’d hold my judgement.”

Someone exhaled behind her, but Azula didn’t turn back to look. This was a familiar game, one she had demanded of her friends when they had first met at the Academy. Prove to me. Azula examined Katara closely. The simmering anger, the tight shoulders, the high chin demanding respect. Prove to me I can trust you, that you’d be loyal.

 “Avatar Aang.” The younger man bounced a bit in his seat but nodded his acknowledgment. Azula lowered her chin. “You were the last to see me three years ago. I don’t expect you to understand my actions then, but I would be…honored if I could explain them to you.”

The waterbender crossed her arms. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’d be honored? Azula, you tried to kill me. You did kill Aang.”

“Fine.” Azula stiffened, strategy shifting. The princess raised her head higher. “I’m not honored to tell you or to be here; I need to be here. I need your help.”

That seemed to throw them as much as any sincere apology would, but Katara still remained stolid. “Why should we help you?”

A presence moved next to her and knelt by her side. Habit or want thought it was Sokka, but Azula was surprised to see Iroh close to her, a hand folding over her own. She fought the reflex to move away. “My niece is here on her knees asking for help.” He held her tightly. “I don’t think I have to point out how uncommon this is.”

“You don’t care what happens to me, I understand that. But the people that are after me are the ones that are after Zuko and my uncle. They’re the ones that killed my father.”

The hand over hers shook, and Azula turned to her uncle. His face was white, aged, and the realization struck her. He didn’t know? Iroh said nothing, and Azula forced herself to continue, “I need your help finding them.”

“And who are they?” Aang asked.

Sokka sat on her left, cross-legged. She could feel his strength and certainty despite them being centimeters apart. Azula steadied her breathing. “You’ve met them in the Caldera three years ago: the Kemurikage.”

Her uncle pushed a small cup of tea closer to her. “I think we need to go back a little further than that, Princess Azula.”

Five years ago?

Her stomach lurched.

Five years ago, she was imprisoned. She did not need to tell any of them that; they were the reason why she was there. Katara had subdued her. Aang had taken away her father’s bending. Iroh had whispered in her brother’s ear, and Sokka had…Sokka helped devise it all.

That was her bottom, the trough of failure and fear and pain, and she did not want to talk about it. If she went back to that place…

No. She could do it. She would. Azula took a sip of tea. “Five years ago, I suffered from a mental collapse. I don’t need to describe it to you.” Her words were still harsh when she turned to Katara. Azula pushed out her chest to allow more airflow. Perhaps that would help her body calm. “But safe to say, I was looking for an…an opportunity to prove myself again.”

Katara sniffed. “And take the throne from Zuko.”

“Yes,” Azula answered honestly. “I was groomed to expect it my entire life. Do you know how terrible Zuzu was at Fire Nation politics? There was a reason he was banished and why my mother had to kill the most powerful person in the world to protect him.” Azula shook her head. She wasn’t playing this game right. She should be softer, less honest, but the words poured. “It was hard for me to watch such a weak boy be trained to rule my country strictly based on birth order, and I wasn’t alone in my thoughts. My father, for one, believed I would be a better Fire Lord, and there were others who still remained dissident after Zuko took the throne.”

“The New Ozai Society,” Aang explained. “Mai’s father Ukano ran them.”

“He’s the one you put in jail though, Aang, right? After the kidnappings?” Sokka asked.

“He is.” Azula answered for the Avatar. “Ukano wanted my father reinstated. I was a natural ally, so he recruited me. Smart tactic, maybe, if I actually wanted my father in power.”

Aang’s blank look became piercing. “And why didn’t you?”

“That’s…” Her fingers curled. “That’s hard to explain.”

“Because it’s a lie?” Katara asked.

“No.” Azula bit back. “Because you won’t believe me.”

“I will.”

The silence enveloped them again, so much so that Azula could hear the light hiss of steam leave the cooling tea pot centered on the table. Sokka’s words crushed her. They collapsed and filled her chest back up, and she wanted to touch him. She wanted to smile and say thank you, to hug him, but she knew what that attachment would look like to his sister. Deceit. Exploitation. I wouldn’t do that to him. Azula held back the words. I wouldn’t be able to.

Sokka made the decision for her and took her hand. He felt too warm. His hands were still slick, and he was so certain, so uncaring that he was scraping his reputation through the mud. His tone was only soothing. “Go on, Azula.”

His voice and face allowed her to ignore the staring faces because maybe he…maybe he... “I was lost in the Forgetful Valley after we found Ursa.”

“The Forgetful Valley?” Iroh hummed next to her. “That place shares a border with the Spirit World.”

Azula nearly fell back into a low bow. “Everything…everything was too much after finding Ursa. Zuko was…” She shook her head, bangs messy. “I didn’t understand him. I don’t know what he saw in me. He was able to forgive me, and he was…he was kind. After everything I did, he should have killed me. I thought he’d want me dead or imprisoned, but in the Valley...”

The memory was haunting. The Forgetful Valley was a place she never thought she would escape from. The four pools. The iridescent sheen of ghosts and whispers blowing in the wind. She felt…she felt…”I didn’t care that I was lost at first. I thought, this was it. This was my fate. I failed and this is what I deserved for it—dying in the place where my mother forgot me.”

Azula took another sip of tea. Her throat ached, but Sokka was still holding on to her. He still wanted to know. “Zuko…I heard him when I fell asleep, in my dreams. He was calling for me. He wanted me back. He said he…he needed me.” Azula let go of Sokka’s hand and folded her arms over her chest. “And I didn’t want to be lost anymore. How could I die like that? In some forgotten wasteland? Zuko needed me. The Fire Nation needed me. After months, I found a way out.”

“You were lost in the Spirit World,” Aang said as if it were fact. Azula tried to carve up the memory. Everything was blurred, blended in some sort of melancholic oil. She thought it was months, but time had been disparate, seeming to wind and twist rather than march straight forward. At the time, it had been hard to be sure of anything but Zuko.

Azula couldn’t make sense of it. “Was I?”

“Zuko looked for you for weeks.” Sokka’s voice was low. “That wasn’t a dream.”

He what? Her brother continued to be a mystery to her. Why would he do that? Why would even bother?

“I thought it was destiny.” Azula nearly laughed at herself. “I was groomed to be Fire Lord, and I jumped at the chance to change my fate. Zuko would be Fire Lord, fine, but he needed my help.”

Katara raised an eyebrow, “And you thought the New Ozai Society was trying to help Zuko? How?”

“If you’ve paid enough attention, you’d notice I was never a leader of the New Ozai Society. There’s a reason why Ukano’s stooges are in prison and the Kemurikage are not.” Azula placed her hands together and thrusted them apart. “I fractured the New Ozai Society. I embedded myself as an ally, stole some of their members, and then used my own warriors to break them apart.”

“Aang had them arrested.”

“After I exposed them. You can thank me later. Or at least excuse my attempt at helping my brother.”

“Your attempt at helping was abducting children?” Aang, absurdly, didn’t sound accusatory, just confused.

Azula nodded. “I admit it was…misguided. I knew I had to help him, but I still remembered the type of ‘leader’ Zuko was as a child. He needed to be harder. There were many citizens in the Fire Nation that only knew him as the stupid, banished prince who failed to capture the Avatar. His transition to power would be difficult if he didn’t earn their respect.” She straightened her shoulders. “I ordered my loyalists, disguised as the Kemurikage, to kidnap those children because Zuko couldn’t ignore it. He’d have to arrest the perpetrators and show his strength. He’d be ruthless and unforgiving to fools who’d hurt innocent children.”

“And you planned to implicate the New Ozai Society,” Sokka muttered.

“Correct. He’d get rid of his rebels in the most brutal way possible and secure his position in power.” Azula blinked. She had been desperate then. She was still desperate for them to understand. Zuko had not been strong in her memory. He defeated her in an Agni Kai—she would resentfully give him that— but every other memory was just a fragile child crying for his mother. “You have to understand. The Fire Nation…”

“I think I understand, Azula,” Iroh said clearly, and Azula had to quickly hide the shock on her face. “The Fire Nation was under authoritative command for over a century and you thought a similar reign would bring the country stability. You wanted to bleed that out of Zuko.”

“I wanted to help him.”

“Because it was your destiny?” Katara raised an eyebrow

 “My…” Azula swallowed. “My health was better when I thought I could help him.”

“Zuko commented that you seemed more stable.” Aang turned his head slightly. “And you do.”

Azula hesitated. “I’d like to think I am.”

“But who’s after you now, Azula?” Sokka asked. “You told me you worked with them. It’s the Kemurikage?”

She nodded. “I thought I was in the opportune position to find people who loved the Fire Nation’s legacy but hated my father.”

“And where did you find these people?” Sokka was insistent.

Azula ground her teeth Her nails bit into Sokka’s skin, and she was certain it was painful, but he didn’t flinch. “Asylums. I knew some of them from five years ago, and they knew others released from hospitals or prisons. Most of them were lost firebenders looking for a reason to just continue on. Then there was Zirin who was my second in command. She was a patient in the same facility I was in. And Tai Yan was…a healer.”

Katara moved in her seat for the first time in a while. “She was what?”

“My healer and a firebender. She taught me how to meditate and gave me medicine.” Her eyes flickered to the forgotten packs by the front door where her herbs were tucked away. “She helped all the girls and was my emissary. Though we managed to gain other support within the New Ozai Society, Tai Yan often traveled for her work. There she formed relationships with others who would support our cause.”

“And they wanted to help you? Help Zuko?” Aang asked.

Azula closed her eyes. She had been so foolish. She had been such an idiot to trust them. Tai Yan, the backers, and the rest of the Kemurikage…many of them as broken as she was, just looking for a purpose, to be needed.  “They initially wanted me in power. I thought I could persuade them that Zuko could keep the throne. A puppet Fire Lord but still Fire Lord with me by his side. That would be satisfactory, wouldn’t it? If they wanted my ideals, they’d be fine with me making decisions out of the spotlight. It made no difference who sat on the seat.”

Iroh shook his head. “They never wanted you on the throne.”

How easily he sees it.

“Zirin did.” She could trust that still, though the reason why plagued her. “Zirin was the first girl I saved. Two years after the kidnappings, I found her body burnt to the bone in her own bed. Two days after that, I knew I had been poisoned.”

Sokka’s fingers stroked the top of her palm. It was the only thing binding her here and in this room, not in her memory of black skin and the acrid smell of crackling flesh. Zirin had challenged her but was loyal. And that loyalty bought her death. Azula found herself turning her hand over and gripping Sokka back. Suddenly, she felt afraid. Sokka asked, “Why kill Zirin then? What happened?”

It doesn’t make sense. Azula turned over the memory. She had tapped Zirin to be embedded into Zuko’s guard, to gain his trust and feed him ideas and information that would strengthen his hold on the palace and the rest of the Caldera. That was step one of the plan, and it took years to get there—to gather enough money to train her, dress her, to wait for the right opening in Zuko’s inner circle. Azula had come in the middle of the night to Zirin’s home in the poorer section of the city the day before she was to go to the palace. She knew Zirin was gone as soon as she saw the opened door, the sour, sick stench of death and ash catching on the wind.

They didn’t even try to hide it.

Nothing had been stolen. Nothing else burnt. They had brutally murdered Zirin, and Azula assumed it had been some urchin, some sick act outside of her own command.

“The week before Zirin was killed, I told Tai Yan that I no longer sought the throne. She was worried my…symptoms would worsen, and she altered my routine. She increased my meditation time and adjusted my medicine.”

Sokka’s hand started to hurt. He pressed against her, thumb squeezing her hand as the sheen of his sweat ran cold. “She was poisoning you.”

Continuously. Slowly. “They did not want my father on the throne or Zuko or me. I should have seen it. I should have noticed, but I was too wrapped up in my own destiny.”

Sokka jostled her. “You were dying.”

“You were manipulated,” Iroh said.

That was it. It made her blood boil, her limbs itch to bend. She wanted to bury Tai Yan under fire, not because of what she did to her father or what she was trying to do to Zuko, but what she did to her. She was tired of being an object, an efficient, precise tool, and she was still ready to ruin her for it.

Katara’s face hadn’t softened. “If they didn’t want to crown you, what did they want?”

The words seemed to echo. “Beyond us dead? I don’t know.”

“And why should we believe any of this? There’s nothing stopping you from lying. You could care less about what Aang thinks about you or what I do.”

“Because I care about what he thinks of me.” Azula couldn’t dull her own sharpness, and Sokka’s hold on her lightened until he dropped her hand completely. She heard his breath stop, and she dared herself to look at his face. He couldn’t maintain eye contact, and Azula fidgeted on her knees. That was too much. She exposed herself and had no idea how to hedge, how to back out. I don’t want to. Azula maintained her stiff posture. I don’t want to lie to him.

Sokka took an object out of his pocket and slid it across the table to his sister. It was the pair of earrings from Fui Long’s shop. “Azula and I were in Omashu. We’re trying to stop the Kemurikage from hurting anyone else.”

“In Omashu?” Katara picked up the pair of blue earrings, face lighting if only for a moment. “Why there?”

“Our financial support was…wide-spread.”

Sokka shook his head. “Of course, it was. There had to be others in all four nations that didn’t want the Royal Family in power. That’s obvious.”

Her heart throbbed with a stabbing pang. “It was not so obvious to me.”

“Under your family, the Fire Nation was a militant autocracy that threatened the world. People will think Zuko would follow in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps.” Sokka was frustrated. “We should have seen this.”

“This isn’t your fault, Sokka.” Azula didn’t understand why he was so angry. She didn’t move to touch him, her words still feeling heavy and too obvious for her to strengthen them with something physical. But he finally looked at her at his name. He bit his lips, blue eyes so absolutely clear that she could almost see herself. “How could you have known?”

“Azula, you could have…”

“How do we help?” And it was Katara who leaned forward and reached for Sokka’s hand, who garnered Azula’s attention and sounded so sincere, so genuine, that Azula felt her whole body relax. The tension wrapped around her chest unraveled and fell into loose threads at her feet. Katara nodded towards the princess. “How do we help you?”

Azula waited by the door while Aang and Sokka attempted to saddle Appa. The beast was spectacular if not slobbery, and Azula maintained her distance. She didn’t know how to handle an animal, something so widely unpredictable. She caught herself smiling as the bison gave Sokka an appreciative, welcoming lick. The warrior grimaced and slid a hand over his face, wiping off the spit.

She quickly chuckled and leaned back on the door. The fog was starting to clear in the afternoon sunlight, and the cold prickle of the wind seemed to die down on the island. Republic City was shining in the distance, and she felt an energy from it not unlike that of the Caldera.

“You are different, aren’t you?” Katara maintained her distance, a water sack on her belt as she passed Azula in the doorframe. “My brother trusts you.”

“I trust him.” Azula confirmed, eyes on Sokka attempting to throw a long leather strap over to the airbender meters away. “But I have trusted others before and that has…”

“Sokka isn’t like that.” Katara crossed her arms. “And for the record, neither was Ty Lee and Mai. Or Zuko for that matter. You’re lucky they followed you for as long as they did. You’re even luckier I’m allowing my brother to go with you alone.”

That was true. Azula turned away from the struggling young men to look at the waterbender. “Why are you?”

“Sokka’s not an idiot.”

“He’s not?”

Katara barely held in her laughter. “Okay, he is. I’m his sister. Of course, I think my brother is as dumb as an iceberg sometimes.”

“That we share.”

“Zuko can be stubborn.” Katara nodded. “And also not the best judge of character. I…I’m not either. I’ve made some stupid mistakes when it comes to that, but Sokka hasn’t. If he sees something in you…” Katara paused, and Azula noticed the blue earrings shining underneath her brown hair. “I owe you the chance to prove it.”

“I killed your boyfriend,” Azula tested. She didn’t know why she felt the need to do that, to push and push to see if the woman next to her would crack. Something drove her to be sure, to be fully aware that Katara knew what she was saying, that she wasn’t lying. “I would have killed you if it weren’t for Zuko.”

“I sometimes wonder what I would have done.” Katara whispered. “If it weren’t for Zuko…and Aang. I would have done some horrible things. Sokka would have too.” Her hand gripped tightly over Azula’s shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong though. If you hurt my brother, I will drown you. Slowly.”

The threat barely registered. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why?”

Because she already felt like she was drowning. Because the very thought of seeing Sokka hurt tore at something she long thought was dead and buried. Azula broke free from Katara’s hold and turned back to Aang and Sokka. Appa was saddled, ready to go, and the Water Tribesman waved at her excitedly.  It was impossible to say, to describe the warmth and torrent in her chest. “I don’t know.”

Katara narrowed her eyes at her vague, terrible answer but didn’t try to dig any deeper. Instead, she turned back into the house, grabbing something nearby. “Sokka said you’re going to the Northern Water Tribe.” A blue coat was suddenly thrusted against Azula’s chest. “You’ll die dressed like that.”

Azula held out the parka. It was warm under her fingers, carefully woven fur and waterproofed leather dyed blue. She was already in Sokka’s blue shirt, her own clothes wrecked, and Suki’s forgotten yukata dirtied and ripped from their stint in the Earth Kingdom. She had felt like a pauper accepting those clothes. She felt pitied, but the coat felt more like a gift. Azula carefully folded it over her arms. “Thank you.”

“Take care of him.” Katara exhaled deeply. “He really can be an idiot.”

“Take care of Iroh.” The leather was smooth under her fingers. “And my brother.”

They bowed to each other. It was quick and too high, but Azula still felt lighter.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t done this in ages, but it was incredible how easily his body fell back into the memory. It was so much colder in the sky, and Appa was flying at a steady, quick pace. The deal he had somehow negotiated with Aang was that he could take Appa up to the North, and then the air bison would come back to get them after bringing Katara, Aang, and Iroh to the Fire Nation capital.  It should work out fine, though Azula not knowing who the Northern Water Tribe sponsor was threw a couple of kinks into Sokka’s working timeline.

And we can’t hide for that long.

He’d need to talk it over with his partner. The princess seemed to be busying herself holding on to Appa’s saddle. She tried to hide the anxiety, face impassive and suspiciously blank despite her knuckles whitening. Sokka edged away from his position towards the reins and Appa’s head to sit cross-legged in front of Azula. Her black hair whipped behind her, opening her face, and Katara’s parka was slumped around her shoulders. “Want me to fasten it for you?”

“Don’t come any closer to me.” Azula lowered herself down to the saddle. “You’re rocking it.”

He no longer held back his laugh. “This isn’t a boat, Azula.”

“It’s worse. At least I can swim. What am I supposed to do if I fall off here?”

Sokka moved closer to her despite her protests and fastened the top toggle of her jacket. He could feel her eyes on him, and he let his fingers linger on the coat, pressing the leather firmly against her chest. “We’re almost at the halfway mark. Appa needs a break, and I’m guessing you won’t complain if we head back to earth for a bit?”

She didn’t give him any response, but her mouth narrowed into a little pout. Azula was out of her element completely, and he found it absolutely adorable. Spirits, help me.

Sokka wasn’t surprised by his own reaction back on Air Temple Island. He knew he’d vehemently defend Azula, would get Aang and Katara to agree to some sort of arrangement, and be crushed from whatever story Azula planned to tell about her time with the Kemurikage.

What he hadn’t expected was feeling so damn satisfied after it. No fighting. No bending. Katara actually seemed to want to give Azula a shot at this, and it felt like a huge, huge, boulder had been lifted off his chest. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t a bad person for thinking she could be okay, for trusting her, for…

Sokka swallowed down the thought as Azula grabbed his hand. Her palms were cold, tone thick. “I know you probably enjoy torturing me, but I thought you were landing this thing?”

“Ri—right.” He moved away from her and grabbed a hold of Appa’s reins. The air bison responded quickly to his command, and Sokka turned his gaze downward to try and find a clear spot where they could camp. They were lucky they were able to bring more with them on this trip. Appa made a much better sumpter than Sokka’s back, and Sokka had managed to take a tent as well as a few extra blankets and provisions from Aang and Katara.

As soon as Appa was a few meters away from landing, Azula jumped off, blue jacket catching the wind where it wasn’t fastened. Appa landed with a giant yawn, which Sokka mimicked before tossing their supplies off the air bison. They were already over the Great Divide, and the sun painted the sky a deep shade of red and orange. It was already so much colder. Sokka could easily see his breath when he exhaled, and he immediately started gathering his packed wood for a fire.

Azula did not move to help him. Typical. Not once in their camps had the princess done much else but bend a fire. But she would watch him closely, curiously, and Sokka didn’t exactly mind showing off a bit. “What do you do in the South?”

He was done digging a slight hole to keep the fire, flattening and clearing the ground around it of anything that could catch aflame. This far north, the ground was harder, and much of the normal vegetation was nothing more but rock and moss, evergreens mostly scattered. He crossed the wood together. “To build a fire?”

“Yes.” Azula was already bending. Sokka turned away from the wood and watched her. The tiny blue flame radiated in her palm, pulsing like a resting heartbeat. “I’m curious.”

“Nothing fancy.” Though, he’d admit, having a firebender on some of the colder days would have made life in the igloo a lot easier. Easier…He traced Azula’s motions, the blue glow emphasized so greatly in the orange sky, and he felt perfectly calm. Not afraid. Not on guard. He watched the flicker and dance with a sort of serenity. When he was a teenager, he was ready to die fighting the Fire Nation. Funny. He never expected that to change so drastically. “There are parts of the South Pole that are still tree lined. The northern settlements would trade the more southern tribes wood for other supplies. That and a good block of blubber gets you far.”

He finished interlocking the wood, and Azula sent her flame into the core of it. It lit up immediately, and Sokka’s skin prickled at the sudden warmth. Azula sat down by the fire, silent. She was staring at him, and yeah, he may have been caught staring at her a few times, but the force behind it made him nervous. Sokka scratched at his tied hair. “Thanks.” And went back to setting up the rest of their camp.

Constant repetition made setting up the tent strictly muscle memory. He was better at it now than when he was a teenager—practice would do that—and Sokka stood back, impressed with his own work, once everything was complete. The fire still crackled behind him, the red and orange shining as night started to take over. The tent was tethered high into a traditional triangle, and Sokka took a bundle of furs into his arms.

“Can I see?”

He nearly dropped the armful as Azula spoke from behind him. The princess had done nothing but bitterly eat dried seal jerky and meditate, gold eyes often opening and flickering in his direction. Sokka liked it. He liked the way she looked at him. There was familiarity behind it, a dangerous edge that Azula always seemed to hold, but the intent felt different. She cares about what I think of her.

That admission had wracked his brain for hours and hours. Azula cared what he thought about her, someone she had taunted, dismissed, and called a snow peasant. He knew the princess wasn’t stone, that despite her protests and walls, she did care about other’s perception of her, but to say it? And in front of Aang? In front of Iroh?

He wanted to dissect that more, maybe because it would bring some tangibility to his own daydreams. Or maybe because Sokka was just so completely confused how to read this…relationship they had. Sokka broke through the flap of the tent, and Azula trailed behind him closely. He felt her even when he wasn’t looking. Felt her gaze, her movement, the curve of an appreciative smile as he laid the furs under a padding of pine needles and brush. His hands faltered as he remembered she probably wanted an explanation. “I know we have bed rolls, but any layer you can add between yourself and the ground will help insulate the heat.”

Azula knelt and brushed her long fingers over the fur. Her nails were long and seemed to catch at the frayed edges. Azula wasn’t bothered. “Is that so?”

“Ye-yeah. There are other ways to keep the tent warm enough on nights like this.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiously. “What’s the preferred method?”

“Body heat.” He almost fell over. His face was already warm, flushed. Seeing Azula kneeling and sprawling over the polar furs was already too much, but now he needed more. He needed her against him, close, wrapping twisting limbs, and those nails scratching at his own skin. Sokka turned from her completely and tried to busy his hands with flattening the furs. “There’s other things you could, um, do too. Heating rocks is an old favorite. Chuck one in the fire and it holds the heat through the night. And there’s always layering…. yeah, really important to wear lots of layers. Socks, hats…”

Azula shifted, but Sokka refused to turn around. He knew that under the blue parka, Azula was wearing his clothes. It was one of his smaller tunics and pair of pants that tied up pretty well at the waists. It still was incredibly too big on her, but she had nearly stopped his heart when she first wore it. Light blue against pale skin. Orange and gold full and electric on her face. The tunic’s v-neck dipped just low enough to still be tasteful, but he couldn’t really help taking a quick look whenever she…

“I don’t have a lot of clothes.”

No, no, no, Sokka. He held his legs together tightly and continued to ignore her, at least visually. “I thought firebenders don’t get cold.”

“A bit of an exaggeration. I can’t very well control my chi while I sleep.”

“You could always sleep next to someone.” Fuck. “You know…Appa’s always warm if you’re worried.” He turned finally, and she was not as close to him as he expected. She was not, as his brain thought, lounging on the furs, black hair down, parka off and tunic slipping from her shoulders. She was almost in a ball, arms tight around her chest as she attempted to create friction. Her exhale was a solid puff of a white cloud, and Sokka, despite rational thought begging him to not touch her, went to do exactly that. “You’re not bending now?”

Azula lowered her arms as he played with the button of her parka again. Her chest opened up, and was it his imagination or was she breathing even faster now too? Sokka bit his lower lip and continued to align the toggles on the coat, pulling the outer fasteners together so that the fur and leather was tight around her core. Azula played with the white-trimmed hood. “I wanted to see how warm you could make this tent.”

Was this…was this an opening? If this were any other girl, he would say absolutely. There had been an opening hours, no, weeks ago. But Azula was different. Azula, as far as he knew, didn’t know how to do this. And if she were being aggressively coy or seductive, was it just a tactic?

Sokka dismissed the thought. If she were trying to seduce him…she could be better. Despite her words, nothing about Azula’s body language implied she was, uh, using this method. She kept her form tight, her hands mostly to herself, and Sokka wondered if she even knew he was flirting with her.

Flirting with her.

He was. He had been. As unconsciously or consciously as it was, Sokka was hitting on the Fire Nation princess. Again. 

He ignored the probing thought, the nag of why? And is this even a good idea? as Azula’s breath hit him hard on the outer edge of his jawline. It was cold, like ice on blistering skin. His muscles tingled from the contact, and Sokka once again played with the idea of just kissing her.

No doubt it would be incredible. Azula, though maybe lacking in physical intimacy experience, did not lack in physical experience. Sokka was partial to girls who could kick his ass, and Azula was also a princess. She was…

Suddenly, he felt doused in cold water, heat and want leaking away and replaced with memories that still hurt. Suki but also Yue. Even if that were only for a moment and he was young, she had been his first kiss and love, and he can’t help but wonder what would have happened if things played out a little differently all those years ago.

They…they would have been perfect. Yue wouldn’t mind the cold, and like him would want it to be her permanent home. She would work well with his father. She would graciously open all borders and secrets, and the two tribes couldn’t help but be unified if they were, if they had been…

But then that would mean never having Suki, and though they were nothing more than old friends now, Sokka would never wish for that. He still loved her. He really did. It wouldn’t work and that was painful, but he would never want to forget how it felt to love her.

“You’re looking pathetic again.”

The brash voice tugged him back to the girl in front of him. Timidity was gone, and in its place was a look of pure annoyance. Sokka bristled. “What?”

“It’s bothersome.” Azula maneuvered herself to lotus and Sokka followed. Their knees almost touched. “I’ve noticed that on occasion you seem to completely shut off. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a nice break from whatever ridiculous joke you come up with, but the wide-eyed doe look on your face is a disgrace.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You owe me an explanation.”

Sokka stammered. “I, uh, no I don’t?”

“Yes, you do.” Azula repeated. “You think I wanted to tell you how I was humiliated and poisoned and left for dead? No, I did it because it was vital information for our mission. And if you continuously become distracted enough that you don’t speak during a one-on-one conversation for more than a few seconds, we’re bound to have bigger problems.”

Fair enough. Azula had opened up incredibly to him. And Sokka knew that for her to trust him fully, he’d need to do the same. “It’ll sound dumb.”

Her smile returned. It was hypnotizing. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He grinned. I’m such a sucker. But he didn’t inch closer or move to touch her again. The subject matter was a bit of a hinderance. “I was thinking about my ex-girlfriends.”

Azula leaned back. The smile evaporated from her face. “You mean that Kyoshi Warrior?”

“Her, yeah…and the other one.”

 She nearly choked. “Other one? Who?”

“Her name was Yue. She lived in the Northern Water Tribe.”

His ego was stabbed straight through when Azula did not look jealous or annoyed or even impassive about it. The firebender rocked back as she laughed, hands sliding up and down her thighs. “You mean the Northern Water Tribe princess? You’re joking!”

He was suddenly furious. “Is it so hard to believe? Am I too much of a peasant for a princess to ever like me?”

The laughing stopped abruptly. Azula inhaled deeply, seriousness blanketing her features once more. “I didn’t say that, did I?” She moved forward and slowly, carefully, her hand wrapped around his. She was warm again, much more so than before, and he wondered if she had started heating herself with her chi again. He leaned into it, despite being annoyed and insulted by her. Azula had this way of drawing him in, of narrowing his vision until it only followed her and her words and her movements. But it was strange. He didn’t feel defenseless or vulnerable. Even now with the lingering heartache of Yue and Suki, he felt…felt powerful.

His temper vanished under her heat. “What did you mean then?”

“I know Yue.” Her eyes flashed up from their hands. “Not personally, but as a political figure. Touched by the Moon Spirit. Next in line to the Northern Water Tribe’s throne. Betrothed to some arrogant soldier.” She tilted her head. “How’d you manage that?”

“Hahn was an idiot.”

“One member of a betrothal is usually lacking.” Azula interlocked their fingers. “One good thing about my eventual disinheritance is that it will no longer be an issue for me.”

Had Azula been betrothed too? It was hard for Sokka to picture, and the familiar bloom of jealously swelled in him. He decided to remain silent, his words potentially incriminating.

Azula continued, “We bombarded the Northern Water Tribe for decades, but I always thought that our opportunity would come with the power shift if we were patient enough.” She flexed her fingers in his hand, but he found himself drawn to her lips, chapped and red. “She was weak. I’m surprised you found that attractive.”

He let go of her hand. “She wasn’t.”

Her mouth fell open. “Oh? I’m not usually mistaken. Especially when it comes to, what did you call it? Running a militaristic autocracy?”

“You’re not,” Sokka admitted. “But you’re wrong about Yue and her type of strength. Sure, she wasn’t a fighter like Suki or a bender like you, but she was still one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. What she did for her people, Azula…” He was caught in it again, his pathetic look. The thought of Yue giving her life for her people, to become something eternal and inhuman still haunted him. He wished he could talk to her, ask if her she was okay, ask her if, like him, she had regrets. Sokka was suddenly glad they were in a tent and not under the night sky.

Azula seemed to be biting the inside of her cheek. Her face was downcast, and he couldn’t read the crease in her brow, the full look of her eyes. “Like me?”

She sounded younger then, and Sokka, in all his dark thoughts, had no idea what she was talking about. “Huh?”

“Strong women. A fighter like Suki. A bender like me.” Azula seemed to catch herself in some sort of slip. She jolted straight, eyes popping. She coughed before speaking, “No matter. I imagine that returning there may bring back some of those memories, but I fully expect that you…”

“Are you wondering if I find you attractive?” Sokka blurted. He hadn’t meant to say anything near to that, but that was what his words implied. He had a predisposition towards strong women. Like Suki. Like her. An opening. Sokka failed to turn the thought off. He scooted forward and their knees fully touched.

Azula hesitated, locking on their knees for a millisecond. Her voice was unsteady. “I’m objectively attractive.”

“No argument here.”

She squirmed across from him. He couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing, and the ambiguity stopped any further physical action. But he was curious, and, yeah, a little frustrated. He wanted to know. She cared what he thought about her, but why? Sokka leaned forward on his elbows. “And your type?”

She looked shell-shocked. “What?”

“Consider it vital information for our mission.” He dared himself to come closer, to feel her body heat slowly surround him and grow in the now seemingly small area of the tent. The fire was still lit outside. He still had to cook some sort of dinner and find water, and every second he sat here, across from her, flirting with her, would make those necessary tasks harder. I don’t care. “What if you become distracted by some guy?”

She looked at him dead-on, and he thought she must be bending lightning. Everything was sharp, static, a frenetically charged glow that he could only associate with an impending storm. “Doubtful.”

“Fair is fair.”

Azula scowled at the words but didn’t back down. “I also need someone strong.”

“A bender?” There was a sharp pain in Sokka’s chest.

“A fighter,” Azula corrected. “And unlike you, I think the physical attributes of that are a necessity. But…you’re also right. There’s more than just that. If I want a true partner, he can’t be intimidated by me. He can’t back down whenever we have a disagreement because of who I am.” She yawned. “Satisfied?”

No. Not really. “If you want one?”

She bit her lip, the red from her lipstick fades under her tongue. “It’s…it’s hard to think that’s even an option for me.”

Sokka's stomach dropped. He wanted to hug her, to scoop her into his arms and kiss her and show that she was more than just attractive on an objective, rational basis. How could he prove that despite all logic, all reason, there was a part of him that found her astoundingly beautiful? That she was a fighter, not just because of bending, but because of what she was trying to do with her life? How could he even explain that whoever she did marry he’d be indescribably jealous of? That this ache that he felt for Yue and Suki would be multiplied.

Azula—of course, it makes so much sense—felt unlovable. She felt like a pariah, an outcast who was never good enough. Her father was a psychopath. Her mother ran away and showed an unequal amount of affection towards Zuko. Of course, she was hesitant and afraid of anything like…What is this? He turned over the thought again and again.

What did he want from her?

Azula broke the prolonged silence. “Should we talk briefly about our actual strategy?”

They should. They really should, and Sokka, as much as he didn’t want to, nodded. He needed more time to think about …this. He suddenly felt grateful for the new direction. “Okay.”

Azula nodded. “Like I said before, the backer from the Northern Water Tribe was anonymous. Only Tai Yan knows his identity.”

“Why aren’t we going after her?”

“If we do, the rest of them will scatter. I don’t want anyone getting away. It’ll only result in further unrest, and they’ll just find someone else. Besides….” She pushed back a bang. “Money, as much as I hate to admit it, is often more powerful than skill. Cut that off and the Kemurikage as an organization will collapse.”

An idea flickered in his head. “Then we follow it."

“Follow what?”

“The money. If you can recall how much funding you received from this backer, we can start figuring out what class and income range the person is in. Pair that with who Tai Yan could possibly run into… you said she’s a healer, right?”

Azula nodded.

“Okay, then maybe a waterbender. She would probably run in the same circles. How much money did this backer provide?”

“A lot. I would say approximately a third of our expenses.”

“So, I’m guessing upper class. Someone with a lot of disposable income.” Sokka steadied himself deeper into the furs, mind buzzing with a different type of energy than before. “You understand that this may take a while to figure out?”

“I do.” Azula still held a small smile on her face, still the same equivocal intensity. “We have to do this right.”

“And people know who I am up there. And you’ll…stand out.”

“I understand.”

Sokka nodded. That was good. “The palace could help us. I know people there. They can…they can be a resource.”

“No.”

“Azula…”

She shook her head. “They can’t know what we’re doing, Sokka. They could be a resource, maybe, or they could lock me up and kill me. They could be the ones funding this entire thing.”

Chief Arnook wouldn’t do that, but he couldn’t explain that to Azula. She only knew Arnook as someone who fervently defended his own nation against hers. Could that be a reason for wanting her dead? Ozai, maybe. But Zuko and Iroh? “I get it. But we also need you protected.”

She recoiled but didn’t argue. “Even more of a reason to stay hidden.”

“What if you just stay hidden? I can pretend you’re a witness back from Republic City and I’m bringing you there for protection. If you’re supposed to be testifying, there’s an understanding. No one has to see your face. No one has to question you.”

Azula frowned. “No.”

“I can’t blend in there. Even though I look more like them, I go to the Northern Water Tribe too often. They’ll recognize me. Azula…” He touched her shoulders. “Trust me, okay? I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.” The words seemed to drop quickly from her lips. “I know you won’t mean to.” She reached up to him, hand grazing the toggles of his own parka, tracing up to the revealed skin of his neck. She was so warm, and he ached for more heat. “If I…if I want to get out, I need to know you’ll do it.”

“Absolutely.”

“Immediately.”

“Of course.”

She bit her lip again, head wobblingly as she raised herself slowly from the ground. “I trust you.”

And he knew she meant it. That those three words were hard and rare, and he should do all he could to treasure them.

Chapter Text

It was simultaneously incredible and horrifying to look at.

The air bison started to descend, and Azula was grateful for the slower pace and the break from the fiercely cold air against her cheekbones. She had maintained her chi for a quite some time now, but eventually, the effort became draining. She felt tired and started to expose herself to the early morning air and cold of the north. Sokka sat at the reins, sturdy and unbothered, and she wondered what his internal temperature must be set at, if he found the Fire Nation to be unbearable in all its humidity and oppressive heat.

I hope not.

Something about that scared her, made her think that she could lose him. But losing him would imply Azula wanted him, had him, and despite all her talents, she couldn’t credit herself that.

He stood out against the white backdrop, a statue of blue and brown. Azula dared herself to look away and peer over the edge of Appa’s saddle. The ocean was a deep, deep blue—almost black—and white, pointed ice jutted from the surface every so often. It was nothing like the sea she was more familiar with, the warm turquoise blue and colored coral. This seemed more dangerous, deadly. She kind of liked it.

In the distance, the Northern Water Tribe city was a monument of ice. They approached it steadily, and Appa hovered in front of the solid gate of hard snow. Azula found herself inching forward, cautious and curious.

She had read about this, studied how long it would take, how many fire benders would be needed to melt this wall to the ground. Zhao had managed to break through somehow, and Azula found herself second guessing that accomplishment. This place was absurdly beautiful. Magnificent and intricate. And she had once wished it melted back into the sea.

“Thoughts?”

Sokka looked back to here, eyes looking lighter and frozen. She wanted to make him turn back around, to explain everything and anything he knew about this place, but Azula decided better. “They’ll let you in?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.”

Because of me. But she wasn’t trying to be her. “I need a tighter alibi. What did I do?”

“There’s been a few…gang related issues in Republic City.” He sat down Appa’s reins to face her completely. The end of his wolf’s tail blew swiftly in the harsh wind, and she could see a bit of red forming on the tip of his nose. “You’re an informant.”

“For who?”

He quirked his head. “Does it matter?”

She stiffened her shoulders. “I want to be foolproof.”

Sokka edged closer to her, cross-legged, mittens tight on his hands. She missed seeing his skin. “You don’t feel safe here.” His voice sounded sad.

“I haven’t felt safe in a while.” Which was true, but Sokka was right. She felt exceptionally exposed here. Under all this ice and snow. Surrounded by waterbenders who surely hated her. The sun was small, barely rising in the sky at all and seeming to disappear earlier and earlier as they made their way further north. Even though she found it beautiful, this place was foreign and wouldn’t accept her. Ever. “Humor me.”

“I’ll do you one better. Your name can still be Liang if you insist. You’re a member of a firebending triad.”

“There are firebending triads in Republic City?”

Sokka bit his lip. “Not…explicitly. Unfortunately, we’re starting to see the breakup of neighborhoods by nation. It’s part of the reason why we’re trying to get Republic City to be its own sovereignty.”

She felt her eyebrow raise. “That won’t solve anything.”

“Sorry?” He seemed to be genuinely confused.

“They'll still want segregation. How would declaring Republic City its own nation erase the heritage and values of its citizens? It won’t.”

“Well at least not initially,” Sokka argued.

“It’ll take decades.” Her voice sounded stronger against the wind. “By then your implicit triads will become explicit, and you’ll have a lot more on your hands to deal with, Ambassador.”

His mind seemed to turn, to tick, and before Sokka could debate her further, he turned back to face the wall of snow in front of them. “Back to our current mission…”

Azula felt irked. “You can’t ignore that. You’re supposed to be a politician.”

“Azula, we should focus on what’s in front of us. I’m not ignoring it. I’m actually curious about your opinion, but first I want to keep you alive. Okay?”

He was infuriating. They way he could simply push and coddle here in a way that she respected would be her ultimate downfall. She knew it, and she couldn’t do anything about it but listen. “Fine. So, I’m a part of some triad."

"And you were also acting as a source to our magistrate. His name is Seko but that won’t come up. We’re relocating you since your identity was discovered.”

“Why would you relocate me here?”

“It’s far.” Sokka shrugged. “And it wouldn’t be the first time. Trust me. Usually, you don’t have me to accompany you, but I’ll pretend I have business for my father too.”

It was thorough. Maybe not exactly foolproof, but it was enough similar information that Sokka and her would have a corresponding story but retain some flexibility. Plus, being a part of some triad allowed her to still bend fire. “I’ll keep my flames red.”

“Probably for the best. You are a little notorious.”

His tone said he didn’t mind that at all. Azula moved to press him further, but the air bison suddenly made it’s way closer and closer to the gate. Sokka only had to wave to some guard and the whole structure began to shift and move, carving a clear opening through the ice for them.

Sokka dismounted Appa with a confidence and strength Azula attempted to imitate. It felt good to have her feet touch the ground, even if this ground was hard and slick. Her stomach settled only for a moment before she nearly skidded and fell flat on her face from a quick step.

“Careful, now.” Sokka grabbed her forearms and dragged her back up. His hands were still covered with mittens, and the red on his nose seemed to spread to the top of his cheekbones. “You’ll need new shoes. I should have thought of that.”

She didn’t like the idea of giving up her slippers despite how thin they felt in the cold, but Sokka was right. Azula placed her hands on his chest, though she felt steady enough. “How do you even move?”

“Practice. The sidewalks are salted. Just hold on to me a bit longer.” They had landed close to the gate, the main section of the larger city sprawled in front of them. It was large. Perhaps smaller than Omashu but much, much denser. The palace did not look more than a few kilometers away from the entrance, but this did seem to be the best location for the giant air bison to land.

“Ambassador?” A guard dressed in the same light blue of her jacket approached and bowed to Sokka. “Is the Avatar with you as well?”

“Afraid not. Just me. I have another witness in my custody.”

The guard nodded and only gave a passing glance to her. Easy. “Shall I take the air bison…”

Appa yawned and took off before the guard could finish. “He’s headed back to the Avatar now, actually. I just borrowed him for a quick ride up. Thanks for the offer though. He’ll probably be back sometime in the week to get me again if you could send a message to the palace.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Thanks, Panuk.”

The guard smiled at his name and bowed again. Azula looked at Sokka curiously. He had so much power, so much control with just words. It was masterful. “Would you like me to arrange for transport to the palace for you and the lady?”

Azula almost jumped to say yes, but Sokka stepped forward. “I need to pick up a few things. We’ll walk.”

Panuk shot a quick, commiserate look to Azula. He had clearly seen her almost fall on her face. “If you’re certain.”

This was nothing like their approach to Republic City or Omashu. She was gripped to Sokka, tightly, gloved hands flexed over his bicep to steady herself from the impossible ground. His hip was flushed against hers, the only barrier between them the thick fur and leather of their parkas, and Azula relished his body heat, the break from the frigid air.

Everything was white, almost clinical in appearance. Carved carefully, beautifully from ice, the surrounding structures seemed dreamlike to her despite their uniformity.  They were spread out, and the more Azula looked at them, the more she realized these were only barracks. The palace and heart of the capital laid beyond another wall, only accessible by boat. “You don’t intend on us walking all the way, do you?”

Sokka shook his head. “What kind of entrance would that be?”

The boats to the main city were a little further down and Sokka made jokes and greetings with the guard and oarsman again. Instead of offering Azula a hand, Sokka lifted her up deftly. Her heart raced at the ease, adrenaline rushing before she was placed soundly on the wooden boat. “Thought you needed a little help.” He hopped his way on it himself, the canoe rocking a bit from his weight. The smile on his face was impossible, and he tugged hard on her hood.

Azula narrowed her eyes. “You’re looking cheerful.”

“That a problem?”

“No one’s that happy.” She maneuvered herself to sit more comfortably. The canoe cut through the blue water easily, and they were sailing closer and closer to the main city. “Unless they’re an idiot.”

“Call me an idiot then, I don’t know. I’m just happy.” Sokka played with the upper toggles of her jacket again. “Are you warm?”

His mittens touched the underside of her chin, and she felt warm. She also, similarly, felt stupidly happy. “Yes.”

“I’ll turn around. You should really be looking at the city, not me.” He had the audacity to wink and then turned his back to her. Azula huffed at his ego and pushed him so hard he nearly fell over the side of the canoe.

What laid behind the gates was equally as impressive as the surrounding snow gate. So many houses. So many streets and waterways, bridges, and people. All brown-skinned and blue eyed, and though, yes, they did look more like Sokka, the Southern Water Tribesman was right: there was no mistaking him for some normal, citizen. He had a presence, clear and definite. And she knew that about him. She had felt it even in that underground tunnel during the eclipse. He had a presence and a fire and something indescribable that she found magnetic. And at the whisperings of groups of Northern Tribe girls as they left the canoe, Azula hated that she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.

He helped her out, held on to her, and the surrounding whispers only seemed to intensify. “Everyone’s staring,” Azula admonished.

“Not at you.”

“I know.”

Sokka’s cheeks reddened even more. “Ignore them.” His voice dropped lower as he guided her down the main road away from the boat. The streets were much easier to walk here, but Azula still felt unbalanced. “You must have gotten a similar reaction back in the day.”

No, she didn’t. Even at her father’s height of power, the Caldera never looked at her with such admiration. It was a different type of awe, the type someone had towards a volcano, an inferno. She felt foolishly embarrassed to say that though. “I was only fourteen.”

“I forget that sometimes. Come on. Let’s get you shoes.”

The memory was so similar to when they first met each other again. Them in some foreign, cheap store only this time, Azula felt no need to run away. She stayed close to his side, laughing at his bad taste teasingly and rolling her eyes in good humor as Sokka bought way too much for himself and one pair of snowshoes for her. As they exited the store, Azula was much more stable but still had a hand on his arm. Sokka wore a ridiculous red hat. “Looks good, right?”

She bit her lip. It was awful. Too fuzzy. Terrible diamond pattern in a mash of burgundy. The look on his face was one of pure joy though, and she felt herself half-lying. “I appreciate the color.”

He glowed at her lame attempt at a compliment and insisted on buying her some fried food on a stick, claiming that it was a poor substitute to what he had back home but still the best away from the South Pole. It was greasy and salty, but Azula once again suppressed the urge to berate Sokka’s taste. She ate it with a forced smile—really unsure what the meat inside was—and held his arm again.

Sokka touched the tip of her nose and it immediately warmed. “Well, let’s keep moving, Princess.”

She knew these streets from war strategy. Their weaknesses. Their faults. Sokka pointed out everything else. The tools it took to carve this from ice, the care, the intelligence behind the architect’s design. He compared it to the South Pole with a slight envy but mostly nostalgia, and Azula could see how much he must love his home. What she would describe as pee-stained snow, he cared for so ardently. She wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

“One day you’ll have to take me.”

He faltered at her statement, footing slipping for the first time. Azula held on to him, but Sokka stabilized himself if just barely. “Take you?”

“To the Southern Water Tribe,” she explained. His body felt incredibly tense, and Azula backpedaled. “If you…if you think it’s okay.”

“Of course, it’s okay.” The words ran quickly. “I would love to take you.”

A spark flickered in her chest, her bones. “You would?”

“Absolutely.” Sokka turned and touched her cheek. His mittens were rough but warm against her skin. “How could I pass a shot to make a princess shit in snow?”

She grimaced and pushed him away again. They were approaching the palace gates too quickly for her liking, and Sokka’s closeness to a supposed witness would raise more than one question. No more than if they knew who I really was.

That was too true. They couldn’t act like this. Act like they not only liked each other but…

Azula already felt cold by the created distance, but Sokka seemed to silently agree that it was for the best as they approached the palace walls and guard. His face still looked goofy. Dumbly happy. High, high grin that she was sure would make her own cheeks hurt. His joyful energy seemed to bleed as he introduced himself briefly to the guards at the gate, explained that Azula was some sort of witness, and led her up the stairs to the palace.

They were accompanied by two Norther Water Tribe guards, and Azula balanced her thoughts between sticking close to Sokka’s side without giving away her true self. She felt uneasy, skin and hair on her arms prickling as they made the approach to the giant snow palace in front of her. She had only seen such a thing in books, and even that was a poor artist’s rendition of the real thing. It looked immaculate. A long, steep staircase led up and up to the white pagoda, and Azula could not help but be reminded of her home. Tall, massive, terrifying in its beauty and what it represented. These people had stood against her father for so long. Sokka had been right; of course they still wanted him dead.

And me.

Her heartbeat quickened, but something else in her gate must have changed as they approached the top of the steps and in front of the entrance. Sokka bowed his head slightly to the two guards and touched her shoulders. It was light, nothing near the normal tenderness Azula usually felt towards him, and Azula automatically clocked it. He was being careful with his touch now, which meant he wasn’t before. She swallowed.

“It’s been a long journey for Liang here. If it’s alright with you, I just want to get her to a bed before speaking with Chief Arnook.”

The Northerners had no cause to argue, and Sokka gave his brief thanks and let go of her. He turned to the right, backpack swinging at the quick movements. Azula found it easy to follow. The new snowshoes gripped the ground tightly and added a forgotten warmth to her feet and ankles. Sokka walked quickly to a side wing of the grander pagoda, and another set of guards easily allowed him passage to a hallway carved of ice. The sun was already leaving the sky, much to Azula’s chagrin, and the orange and red of the sky started to fade into the walls. Azula touched a deep spot of red, breathless. It was eerie, entrancing, watercolor embedded in the ice.

“Yeah, the walls aren’t completely opaque.” Sokka stopped next to her, a fair distance away. Guards still lined the hallways looking at both of them like a curiosity.

“It’s beautiful.”

“This is nothing. I’ll show you something even better when we’re done here.” He placed a hand next to her, covered pinkies touching, and Azula felt her breath catch. “But not going to lie, it does cause some problems in deep winter. Then there’s barely any sunlight.” His mitten-covered hand flexed. “You would hate that.”

“Absolutely.”

His hand left quickly, and Sokka continued the twists and turns down the radiant hallway until he stopped to pull a key from his backpack. The room was fairly large, built deeper in the ice so that the walls and ceiling were only multiple gradients of white and blue. Azula found herself amazed buy this as well. The beds and floor were covered with thick animal hide, and there was even, from what it seemed, a connected bathroom with indoor plumbing. Azula tipped the door open just to confirm and was grateful that her guess was correct.

Sokka clicked the door shut. “Make yourself at home.”

“No shitting in snow here, I see?” She was grateful they were alone. Azula allowed the smirk to grow on her face. “Why are you Southerners so barbaric?”

“Hey, it’s not our fault we only have one waterbender who can control the temperature. You try convincing Katara that should be her full-time job.” Sokka dropped his bag down and started to make his way to the opposite side of the room. The walls here were made of hard stone for a hearth and fireplace. It only took Sokka a few seconds with the provided room’s flint to spark a flame on the cold wood.

Azula loosened the fasteners of her parka. “You could try to convince the people up here.”

His smile was quick, wolfish. She felt herself shiver. “Something we’re working on.”

That caught her interest. Azula sat on the edge of the bed expectantly, and Sokka continued, “My dad and I have been working on what we call the Southern Reconstruction Project for years now. The South Pole has had…hard times for a while now, for as long as I could remember. We’re working on bridging the gap of technology and people. Our numbers are low.”

She decided to ignore that the cause of that had been her family. Neither of them needed the reminder, and it wasn't something she wanted to bring to the forefront of Sokka's mind. “You need to incentivize them.”

Sokka sat next to her. The mattress moved under his weight, and Azula felt her stomach dip. “Yes.”

“Money?”

“We’re not in a place for a financial package. Resources are tight enough.”

“Land then. Surely you have enough of that.”

Sokka exhaled. “We do, but it’s hard to convince someone to move somewhere so undeveloped.”

“Why do you want to move back?” It was clear on his face, his behavior. Sokka thought his tribe was the pinnacle of civilization, and yes, part of that must be nostalgia, but Azula could tell there was more to it too.

Sokka paused and took of his mittens, his parka, and ugly hat. His fingers combed through the end of his wolf’s tail, and then he turned to her, face serious, almost pleading. “Because of what it could be. I saw the growth in Republic City. It’s fantastic. Sure, there are issues, but it’s amazing to see something grow and flourish from nothing. I know my tribe can do that. The people are strong. We’re all fighters. The South can be just as amazing as this place—even more so.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes, a passion and heat in his voice and shoulders that Azula found unignorable. They weren’t so different. When everything came down to it, they were so oddly similar. Ambitious. Proud. She moved her own hand to curl over his own, nervous but pushing the troublesome thoughts aside to just react and feel. Feel his skin under hers cold and chapped, hard and calloused and strong. Feel the pulse on his wrist, the steady thump, thump of his heart that raced to beat her own.

Azula leaned forward, watching his face and body for any movement as she placed a light kiss on the center of his cheek. “I think you can show them.” She felt like her voice was too low, too quick. She was impossibly warm, and though she was terrified, she steadied herself to sit back and make eye contact. His expression was unreadable, and Azula continued, pushing a potency into her voice. “Show them how great it can be.”

“Okay,” Sokka said. The word was slow to leave, and she felt like he was examining her, ice eyes cutting across her face and body. Sokka touched her hand once and sat up from the bed. He exhaled deeply again. “Um, okay.” His fingers went to touch his cheek, and Azula fidgeted.

Fuck.

She crossed a line, didn’t she? But surely a kiss on the cheek was innocent enough. Ty Lee had done it constantly to boys and always said it meant nothing. That’s Ty Lee. Not Azula. Azula knew she wasn’t one to show an ounce of affection, and she could tell that Sokka knew that, was confused and probably disgusted by the whole thing.

He finds me attractive.

He did. He said so himself. He should like this, but Azula felt her gut twist and wrench seeing him so despondent, so nonreactive. He didn’t want to kiss her, and could she really blame him? Physical attraction was one thing, but she was still a monster.

She crossed her legs on the bed. Cavalier. Relaxed. She was a fantastic liar. “Do you have to make your rounds with the chief now?”

Sokka nodded. “I, uh, I really should. Azula?” His voice was commanding though gentle. She wasn't sure how he could carry it off but wasn’t surprised at how easily he garnered all of her attention. “Just give me some time, okay? Is that okay? I just need a moment.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Her voice sounded convincingly haughty. Good. “Take as much time with Arnook as you need.”

Sokka took a step towards her to argue but changed his mind, mouth closing to a firm line. “I’ll try to be quick.”

“I’ll try to think of any hints of who we’re after so we can get on with our lives.”

He squirmed. “Right, of course.” And said no more before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Chief Arnook looked at him, and it seemed piercing, overwhelming even though there was no possible way he could know what was going on in Sokka’s head. Sokka couldn’t even figure it out. He prided himself on his ability to think through scenarios, to disaster plan and create masterful strategies. But now his head may as well have been blank. It was like some murky swamp, some jumble of nonsense and meandering inaction. Everything seemed to run rabid, scattering and twisting the second he decided to try and concentrate.

Azula liked him.

That was clear. That was the only unambiguous thought he could come up with, but his reaction to it, his own feelings were an absolute mess. It was easier to focus on what was in front of him. The northern chief welcomed him as soon as he crossed the threshold of the throne room. There were the normal entourage of guards and important people by the chief’s side, and Sokka gave a curt nod to Hahn at Arnook’s right. His dislike for the man acted as a short-term ballast for his firebender preoccupation. “Thank you, as always, for welcoming me back here.”

“Your business is ours, Sokka.” Arnook leaned back on the padded ice throne. The waterfall crashed loudly behind them, and Sokka was drawn back to the now more familiar Fire Nation throne room. That room was dusk compared to the bright morning light of the Northern Water Tribe. It was a hot, stormy summer while here was the fresh frost of winter. Zuko on the dais, fire streaming red and orange while Arnook was backdropped by a wall of water. They were both meant to intimidate, but the water here was more than just a visual threat. Most of Arnook’s guards were also benders and could easily protect Arnook with a simple hand gesture.

No wonder Azula was afraid of this place.

How could she ever live in a place like this?

No. Why was even thinking about that? “Still. Republic City thanks you for acting as a safe harbor.”

“I imagine that will be the subject of our next meeting. But perhaps we should wait for Fire Lord Zuko to be less…distracted.” Arnook’s brows knitted together. “I know there has been an increase of threats on his life.”

“Aang’s going back to him now.”

“That’s good.” Arnook seemed truly relieved, and a weight Sokka hadn’t realized he carried felt lightened. Arnook couldn’t have been involved. He cared about Zuko. He cared about the future of Republic City as much as Sokka did, and there was no way he would take “justice” into his own hands and kill Ozai. The consequences of such an act would be too much to bear. “That boy needs all the help he can. I take it you have other formal business here, Ambassador?”

Hahn looked at him expectantly, as if Sokka should bow or kneel or something, but the Southern Water Tribe warrior didn’t budge. A shiver ran down Sokka’s spine, the cold of the hall hitting him square in the back. His conversations with Arnook were typically more…informal than this. Whether it be in one of the meeting rooms at the Fire Nation palace or in a smaller room here with Sokka’s father, he and the chief would sit at eye level, act as equals. There was no pomp, no real formality, and Sokka knew something had changed. “I also wanted to ask if I could use Chief Hakoda’s room for my guest. I have a place all ready for her in town, but she’s not from here. I figured she could use a few days to adjust…”

“Adjust to a life in a palace?” Hahn was normally a feature in the throne room, but the solider rarely spoke. He mostly looked at Sokka with a similar unbridled disdain and that was that. “If there is a location in the city ready for her, she should stay there. That would be the proper adjustment.”

Sokka held back the acerbic remark and waited for Arnook to rebut the man. But the chief didn’t. He looked to Hahn almost endearingly before nodding. “I see your point. It would be best for your witness to be settled into her new life as quick as possible. Would you like me to send a guard to take her?”

“No, no. That’s okay.” Shit. He would have to hide Azula completely now. And they would be sharing a room. Sokka couldn’t untangle whether he should be excited or anxious about that. “I’ll see to it myself.”

“What other issue did Hakoda want to discuss?”

Sokka stiffened at Hahn’s tone and the drop of title from Chief Hakoda’s name. He had not earned that familiarity. He was still, to Sokka, a punk soldier that only wanted Yue for her status, who spectacularly failed stopping Admiral Zhao. Though he was increasingly involved within the Northern Water Tribe’s council, Hahn was nothing more than a boneheaded pretty face who was born into the right family.

Thank the Spirits Yue never married him. Sokka felt his eyes dart towards the direction of the oasis. “His, uh, his wedding.”

It wasn’t new information for Arnook, but the grimace that swept over Hahn’s face seemed to paint whatever discussion the northerners had about the event in a negative light. Sokka, though originally suspicious himself, couldn’t have been happier for his father and Malina. Originally from the North, Malina, had been instrumental towards the modernization of the South Pole and truly seemed to want to better the tribe as much as he did. Plus, she made his father happy. Sokka knew that was something never to be discounted. “I thought I could go over the details with you and answer any questions you may have while my father is absent.”

The two poles, though mostly similar, did have a handful of different customs. The engagement necklaces were slightly different. The songs a unique melody and tune. The North—being a unified tribe for over a century—didn’t know what an appropriate gift between chiefs was, and Sokka knew he’d have some questions if he were Arnook. The wedding wasn’t for another half a year, but the North’s procession alone would take a couple months to coordinate.

Hahn, apparently, thought his offer was ridiculous. His nose turned up, and the soldier had the audacity to audibly scoff. Arnook quickly glared and folded his hands together. “That is very thoughtful of you, Sokka.”

“Yeah, but surely a letter would have sufficed. There can’t be that much to a South Pole wedding.” Hahn was completely uncaged, arrogance blazen.

Sokka fought the slur again and wished, not for the first time, that Azula was next to him. The princess would know exactly what to say, what insult she could coat with the thinnest layer of propriety to avoid retaliation.

Or she would threaten him.

Neither seemed like a bad option right now.

“A wedding for a chief is not a simple event.” Sokka decided on. Neither man said a word to that, and Sokka felt cold once again. The water seemed vicious suddenly, too quick and powerful for what should be a light conversation. He itched to leave the room as soon as possible.

Hahn seemed to agree. He scratched his shoulder, fingers close to the spear positioned on his back. “We can discuss that another time. Chief Arnook and I have other matters to address right now.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No,” Hahn immediately spat. He cleared his throat, tone too venomous even for him. “You’ve done…enough. And you have a witness to attend to.”

Fine. That was completely fine with him. He’d have to make a show of leaving the palace with Azula without actually leaving anyway. Plus, they had a Kemurikage benefactor to find. “I’ll see myself out.”

The warmth and welcome Sokka had felt on his initial approach had completely vanished. His pace quickened to leave the throne room, to get back to the frigid air and blankets of snow, hoping that the scene itself would provide him with some comfort. But as the giant white doors of the throne room closed behind them, the unwelcomed feeling continued to build in his chest. They would have to move quickly, find this sponsor, and get out of here. He knew Azula wouldn’t mind it—they were meant to have a fast pace anyway—and he hoped the princess had some time to think of who they were actually looking for.

Pakku was a member of the White Lotus, and Sokka had to believe that the waterbending master would sniff out any threat to Iroh and Zuko. Sure, his new Gramp Gramp hadn’t been back to the North to teach since marrying his grandmother, but he rather not think he left behind a school of murderous dissidents.

What was more likely, to Sokka at least, was that Tai Yan had sought waterbender healers—the same ones his sister was forced to learn from when they had first arrived all those years ago. Azula said Tai Yan was a healer, that she recruited in locations where she worked. If anything, it would be a good place to start.

His pace slowed as he came closer and closer to his bedroom, and Sokka realized he was stalling. As much as he wanted to leave the throne room and whatever foreign tension left there, he realized he was entering quite a different situation back in the room.

Azula liked him, and he found himself walking past her and his bedroom door completely.

He needed more time to get his thoughts together and decide if he should do anything about it. She hadn’t said anything directly, but Sokka doubted she ever would. Plus, Sokka’s experience told him that girls weren’t always the most transparent. Suki had beaten him up before kissing him (though that was well deserved). Yue had tried to avoid him. Azula was probably fighting every positive thought about him, and Sokka found himself touching his cheek again, remembering the brief contact of hot air and wet lips. It was so quick, so blink-and-it’s-gone, that he had to convince himself that he didn't imagine the whole thing. He had thought about kissing her a lot, but no, he wasn’t so far gone to hallucinate a kiss.

Plus, he was pretty sure he would have at least hallucinated one on the lips.

That was all Azula—no lies, no false cover. That was her being open and bare, and he was an idiot to ask for more time. Did she even understand why? Did he…should he have just kissed her back? A real kiss? And then what? He’d kiss her and maybe she would freak out and he’d get third degree burns, and that wasn’t even the worst-case scenario.

Worst-case scenario was that they both like it. They like it and decide that this was a thing they should be doing and keep doing. That this was something he’d have to go and explain to Aang, to Katara, to—oh shit—Zuko and then what?

It was silly to think so long term, but experience had taught Sokka that as well. The last thing he wanted was to again fall for a girl that didn’t want the same things he did. Once was enough, and he didn't have the strength to go through it again.

He should stop flirting with her. He was leading her on and inviting a difficult, impossible relationship. Didn’t they hate each other anyway? Forget everyone else and the unlikely scenario that Azula liked the South Pole; they would kill each other. They would argue and fight. She would be condescending. He would be a smartass. It would be toxic, abusive.

But what if it wasn’t?

Sokka needed to talk to her. It was one thing to cycle through his own head, but that was only half the story. He was winding himself up over a half truth, and at the end of it all, he wanted to speak with her. Azula showing any sign of caring about another person—despite his own feelings—was not something he should take lightly. The last thing he wanted to do was discourage her by ignoring it or running away.

Shit.

He turned around immediately to go back to his room. His chest felt constricted, heavy, but a part of him was also excited. They had been separated for maybe an hour, but he already felt like he missed her. Seeing her draped in blue, surrounded by snow and ice made his mind wander, his body giddy. She had looked beautiful and still did as he opened the door. She was seated on a white fur, deep in lotus with her eyes tightly shut. The fire was big and burning, and Sokka removed his parka and his boots before sitting down across from her.

“Azula?”

“Did it go okay?”  The princess didn’t bother to open her eyes. Her breathing was steady, a deep inhale and exhale that moved the blue tunic up and down from her skin. There was something wrong. He could tell immediately. Her voice was still strong, stable, but her frame seemed turned inwards. The red and orange color of the flames reflected across her cheekbones and the ice of the walls. It was otherworldly.

Sokka moved himself around the hearth so that they were side-by-side. Whatever tumult he felt before seemed to vanish. Her hair dipped across her neck as she turned to face him, eyes flickering open. She must have sensed him. The gold in her eyes looked liquid. “It didn’t go well.”

“Something’s wrong here,” Sokka said honestly. The mistrust was clear though he didn’t mean to worry her. “They want me to get you out of the palace immediately.”

“I’ll have to agree with them.” Her eyeline was slightly lower from his face. Was she embarrassed? Scared? “I hate it here.”

His stomach twisted. “We should start a little investigating anyway. You’ll have to come out with me since Hahn wouldn’t let my witness stay. Zuko showed me a way back in, but you’ll have to do it on your own. I can draw it out for you.”

“Alright. I didn't remember anything more specific from Tai Yan, but you’re right. Based on the amount of money received, we’re either looking for an extremely wealthy individual or most of the general public as the source.”

“Let’s hope it’s the former.”

“I don’t know,” Azula mused, combing a piece of her bangs with her nails. “The right individual can have more power than the majority.”

“Said like a true autocrat.”

Her smile was slick, entertained. “You’re lucky my time as a despot was so short lived.” The fire flickered against them, and Sokka felt more than made his hand move to her thigh. Azula looked at it but didn’t question or move away, and he cupped his hand tightly around her muscle. “It would have been a flawless disaster.”

“I bet you could have convinced me otherwise.” Sokka glided his hand up, keeping his palm and fingertips flushed against the rough linen of her pants. She was warm like a coal catching the flame for the first time. And she looked flawless. He felt like all the taunts and jabs were just a drawn out, flirtatious preamble. Yes, they had been enemies, divided and divisive, but that was only a hurdle, only the tip of the iceberg of something perfect and dangerous. He bit his bottom lip, circled the top of her thigh with his pointer. “A flawless disaster?”

Azula took a deep breath, body tense. Her fingers, warm and smooth, wrapped around his palm to stop the motion. “I…apologize if my action caused any distraction.” She let him go slowly, and the surrounding heat of the fire evaporated, lowered under Azula’s precise control. “You also left me with some time to think.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I did?”

“Yes. I’m allowed a momentary lapse back into insanity.” Azula bent her legs deeper into lotus. “Aren’t I?”

Sokka’s legs folded away from her. “I wouldn’t call it insanity.”

She sniffed. “Have you thought about what you would call it then?”

The question hung, dangled between them, and it felt dense, obtrusive. Sokka’s words caught in the middle of his throat, and he desperately wanted to claw them out. Azula bit the inside of her cheek, and the fire in the room died in a puff of smoke and shadow.

“Fine.” Azula stood quickly and went to put on her own jacket. Her normally dexterous fingers fumbled with the toggles, and Sokka hesitantly moved to help her. She edged away but let him fasten the jacket closed. “It won’t happen again.” She didn’t sound angry, but her eyes failed to meet his own. Sokka half thought she would drop to the ground, kneel, and bow her head for forgiveness, and he knew this was something she had been disciplined for in the past. Some weakness drained out of her a long, long time ago.

“Azula…”

“Sokka.” She touched his collarbone, nails scratching at his skin and silencing him completely. “We’re both tacticians. I have no delusions on how this would play out.” The princess turned and picked his own coat up from the floor. Azula avoided his touch as he reached for it. “We should know better.”

Sokka’s map was crude, simple, and incredibly informative. She slipped it into a deeper pocket as she followed him out of the palace, hooded and head down. For all of their awkwardness, Azula was impressed that Sokka was able to shut off and focus on the here and now. She knew it would be nothing for her. Despite her shock of impulsiveness before, Azula could shove and push away the lingering feelings that made her do it.

She spent half her time doing just that as she meditated and waited for Sokka to come back. The other half was spent debating more important things, scraping through her memory for any inclination of who Tai Yan’s contact was. They were rich—that was certain—and hated her and her father. The second point was probably not uncommon but the first would keep them in the area close to the ice palace. If not inside. Azula needed to dig deeper on Sokka’s meeting with Arnook. She agreed with Katara: he was a good judge of character. And if he thought someone was suspicious, Azula hoped he would tell her. Even if it were someone connected to Chief Arnook.

“Make sure the guards see you leave.” Sokka lowered his own hood as they passed the front entrance and headed down the stairs to the rest of the city. The streets started to become less crowded than when they had arrived. The sun was no more than a dot in the sky, and Azula could feel her bending, no matter how slightly, fade in power. She felt so far away, alone, and she itched to touch Sokka if only to feel grounded to something.

No. Not after what you said.

It was better that she addressed it. She could try and pass it off as nothing, ignore the intimate act and pretend it never occurred, but what if Sokka brought it up first and wanted to discuss it further? Her pride wouldn’t allow her to hear such a rejection. It was better just to kill it, snuff it out. And besides, she had a traitor to kill.

The food stands and other shops started to close as Sokka navigated the streets of the Northern Water Tribe. There was still an unseemly amount of whispering from the few citizens who remained outside, and Azula attempted to cover her throat even more as the sky faded to black. There were few streetlights already lit with oil lamps, but they offered little light and even less comfort.

Sokka stopped in front of one of the larger structures, a series of kanji hanging over the front door. “This is a school.” Azula turned to him, face darting as his blue eyes caught her. “A waterbending school for girls?”

It sounded familiar, though the Royal Fire Academy was also open to non-benders.

“Girls here are expected to learn a very specific form of bending.”

She felt her eyes narrow as she struggled again to fasten her top toggle. “Excuse me?”

Sokka, mittens and all, was able to fix her coat seamlessly. His mittens fluffed the hood around her face, and he shot her a crooked smile. “As in they were only trained as healers.”

Her jaw dropped. “I take it back. There is a nation more barbaric than your own.”

“How kind.”

“How could they possibly get away with that?” Azula’s voice rose. “The Fire Nation denounced the inequality of genders centuries ago.”

“I admit it’s not the most contemporary policy, and I won’t pretend I agree with it at all. Master Pakku and Katara have made progress though. Girls are allowed to learn other forms now, but it’s hard to wipe out a tradition completely.”

“Tradition.” It was something she never really questioned besides her own past wishes when it came to inheritance. She focused on a particular kanji. “Girls are taught to heal. How…quaint.”

Sokka bit back his laugh. “Let’s see if anyone’s inside. Maybe you’ll recognize someone?”

That was doubtful. The Kemurikage she saw weren’t of Water Tribe origin. And the ones that remained anonymous when she did meet them were hidden behind the white and black mask they all wore. She didn’t argue the point, however. The door to the school was unlocked, but it only led to a courtyard and a rather large door to the rest of the school. The mechanism on the door reminded her of a temple, though she was sure firebending wouldn’t be the solution to unlock it.

Sokka closed the first set of doors tightly behind them and gave a hard look at the lock. It was a complicated network of tubes, twisting and twirling like a maze to the center. He knocked once, twice, and then immediately turned to a nearby snowbank. Azula watched, puzzled, as he started packing snow into each and every tube entrance.

When little bits of snow started to trickle off each hole, Sokka finally stopped and turned back to her, beaming. Azula crossed her arms. “You figured something out.”

“Yup, but I need you. Think you can shoot a stream of fire evenly over the tubes?”

Azula only removed her gloves before starting.

The sheer temperature of her flames meant the snow melted in seconds. Soon, flumes of ice water carved through the maze and reached whatever pressure release in the center. The door clicked open, not in any grand way like the temple, but Sokka was still intensely proud with himself.

“Impressive.”

“I am a genius.”

Her heart fluttered, residual attraction buzzing inside her. Azula swallowed. “Then I expect you to find our culprit with ease.”

He took to the bait with fervor. The school was empty and dark, and Azula kept her gloves off to hold a small, blue flame in her hand. The ice and snow of the walls radiated the blue, watering it down and creating an eerie glow throughout the large, circular room. She nearly stumbled at the human shadow cast against her fire, but Sokka kicked the object creating it in the middle of the room. “It’s just a dummy. Looks like for anatomy.”

Azula nodded. She was too edgy. The dummy was just some lifeless object on a raised platform. Nothing dangerous. Nothing deadly.

There was little else conspicuous in the space, and Sokka, seeming to be satisfied with whatever rudimentary detective skills he was touting, gestured her to move on. The large circular room appeared to be where the girls were taught their healing skills—what a waste—but there was a smaller door to the back that led to a short, dark, and cold hallway. Sokka moved aside and let Azula and her fire take point. One door was marked a bathroom and the other an office. She grabbed the handle to the office door and cursed softly at the lock. “Think you can genius your way into here?”

Sokka’s ego started to deflate as he peered through the lock. He tinkered and tapped and pulled at the opening, and then finally grabbed the boomerang from his back, smacking the handle clean off the door. The heat in her chest rose again, and Azula watched as Sokka calmly tried to refasten the doorknob. He turned to her and scratched at the shaved part of his head. It was already starting to look thicker and darker from their time on the road. “Not the most elegant method.”

“But effective.” She didn’t want to delve beyond that, how the brief show of strength and weaponry was just as exciting as him methodically picking a waterbender lock. Azula instead concentrated on the tiny office. It was mostly filled by a wooden desk and a mountain of leather-bound books. Sokka started rummaging through the paperwork. Azula stood back, a little too conscientious of her open flame. He was careful in his examination, diligent in removing and replacing everything, and her patience was starting to wane. “Just take what looks interesting. They’ll think a waterbender robbed them if they notice something’s gone.”

“Fair enough, Azula.” He was still careful, particular, and Sokka slipped several thick booklets from the top of the desk and hidden in a clutter of papers on a nearby shelf. Azula hovered her flame closer to get a better look, and most of the books seemed to actually be ledgers. Sokka glanced to her, asking silently if this would be enough, and she nodded. He repeated the action and started stuffing the books into a pocket of his coat. He handed Azula a few more, and she temporarily extinguished the blue flame to mimic him.

There could be a clue in here or maybe not. If anything, it was a place to start and a complete distraction from her embarrassing display of affection. She knew this wouldn’t be as easy as Fui Long, but Azula’s frustration and anxiety continued to build and build as they left the school and walked through the dark streets of the northern capital. With her fire out, the main source of light became the moon. It seemed larger up here, incredible and luminescent. It hovered closest to the palace, as if it were tethered by a string, and a question Azula had been holding finally bubbled out.

“Princess Yue…”

Sokka stopped immediately at the name, face downcast. “What about her?”

“You said she had a different type of strength. All I know is that she died during the Siege of the North and rumors.”

She watched his fist clutch and release in his mitten. “Rumors?”

“That she sacrificed herself to become the Moon Spirit.” And as she looked at it now, high and tall and too unnaturally big, she knew it was true. She knew that this girl who she had always thought was weak, a liability, had done something unimaginable for her people. What had Azula done for the Fire Nation besides terrorize? Her cheeks felt drawn, shoulders heavy.  

Sokka started walking again. “You know it’s weird talking about my ex in front of her like this.”

She pushed him, and he laughed, and it reminded her again of the sea and summer. For all the cold and darkness around them, Azula felt a relaxedness in his warmth, his ability to flush out a spiral of negativity and just make her feel…happy. She could let herself feel that. She didn’t have to kiss him or have him or want him. She could just be happy around him, couldn’t she?

Sokka paused again when they were a couple of minutes from the palace. This was where they were supposed to separate, and Sokka, as he handed her the key to his room, assured her it was a shortcut anyway. She memorized the route under a streetlight before he agreed to leave her, and a couple of dark alleys and a brief stint underwater had her emerging back inside the palace walls.

She let her chi attempt to heat her wet, dripping body, but the parka—though definitely extra weight—kept most of her insulated. Azula hoped the ledgers she carried were unaffected and continued her path back to Sokka’s bedroom. She stiffened at the figure outside, casual and leaning as if he were waiting for Sokka to come back. Or maybe her.

But her nerves eased again when she recognized the loose wave and broad shoulders, pointed boomerang and sword jutting from his profile. “Got lost?”

“Got cold.” Her hair was almost frozen. Sokka was all arrogance in his dryness and held his hand out for a key, which Azula handed over. Both their hands were newly bare, and the warmth of their fingers and palms seemed only emphasized by the cold metal key passed between them. She looked up, wanting to explain that this was an accident. This tension. This…electricity. She wanted to ignore it too, to bury it, ruin it, do whatever it took to get rid of it.

But Sokka didn’t seem to agree. He was still, quiet, but the blue in his eyes darkened, thumb tracing the lines of her palm. “The room will be warmer.”

They were still touching, still close. What did he want from her? Didn’t he know this was…this was… “Yes,” she managed. “Do you want to light the fire or should I?”

His smirk grew, and he almost fumbled the key when he finally took it and tried to fit it into the lock. Sokka pushed the door open and seemed to immediately head towards the flint. She let him search the room in the dark, watching his shadowed figure create the spark and fire in the hearth and pour the room with both light and warmth. And she looked at him expectantly, thinking maybe she’d get an answer to her earlier question. If he didn’t think her silly, little kiss on the cheek was insanity, what did he think it was?

At the pace Sokka removed his coat and shoes, and at the way he looked at her body, it seemed he wanted to answer too. He wanted to say something, she was so sure of it, but something else tore his gaze away from her and to the fur covered bed. Azula turned around to follow his line of sight, and her blood turned to ice.

In between the layers of brown and white fur nestled a mask, half white and half black. The mask of the Kemurikage.

Chapter Text

Her ears were buzzing, blood pouring in and out at the sight of the mask in front of them. They knew she was here. How? Did they follow her from Omashu? From Republic City? Was she recognized at the gate? Azula opened her mouth, throat filled with bile. She felt sick, the flagrant memory of poison burning through her. What had she eaten today? She tried to remember, but her mind was dizzy. She felt dehydrated, helpless, and Azula forced herself to just try and remember to breathe. She was having a panic attack. She needed to sit down, find her vial, and get out of here.

Sokka had never seen the mask before, but he knew what it meant. It was obvious from the stern smile and pale complexion as he whipped back around to face her. His eyes traced her up and down, and she felt like breaking, holding him but was too paralyzed to move. Sokka didn’t approach her. But he immediately went to the floor, picked up his parka, and started packing. His motions were rushed, and Sokka almost crushed the stolen ledgers as he stuffed them into his backpack. “Come on.” He glanced up to her, head tipping towards her own pack. “Let’s move.”

His words shook her out of stasis, and Azula removed her own slightly damp books from her coat before packing. She removed a vial, herbs already premeasured inside, and held her hand against the wall. The ice melted easily, and she caught it in the small glass before chugging it immediately. It would take some time for her mind to settle, time which they didn’t have. She moved her bag over her shoulders and once again tried to fasten the heavy, annoying coat. Again, her fingers struggled to pull it tight, and Azula wanted to scream.

“I got you.” Sokka, again, fastened her parka to her chin. His fingers lingered on the edge of her cheek, brow furrowing. “You’re still wet.”

That wasn’t important right now. “Where are we going?”

“Away.” Sokka gripped her shoulders. Her mind felt steady, even as her chest pounded and pounded. Azula thought maybe he didn’t know where to go, that he just knew they had to leave, but the firm look on his face suggested otherwise. He doesn’t want to say it. The realization made her sweat. Does he think they can hear us?

They had managed to break in, somehow. They could even still be in the room, hiding in the bathroom, and Azula wanted to go and smoke the traitor out. Her cover to the whole palace would be blown, however, and they were both unprepared.

Sokka read her so easily. “We’ll find out how this happened, Azula, but I promised Zuko I’d make sure you’re safe.” Here they were exposed. They didn’t know the numbers or type of attackers, and she was not in the right mind to try and fight a waterbender right now, not when she was incased in walls of ice.

They silently agreed to go the secret route, and Sokka put some distance between them in the hallway as he surveyed. They couldn’t afford to be noticed rushing out by guards, and hopefully the Kemurikage weren’t privy to a secret route discovered by a Fire Nation prince. This is an inside job. She knew it. It was probably that misogynistic chief. He couldn’t pretend to play nice with her brother after Zhao nearly decimated this city, caused the death of his only heir and daughter. He must have arranged for Ozai’s death as an act of vengeance. Her death for poetry. The whole palace was probably littered with Kemurikage supporters, and they had to get out. They needed to run, and Sokka was already starting to when the ground under him shot up and crashed his head against the ceiling.

“Sokka!” His name ripped out of her throat, raspy and raw, and she ran to his body. He was crumpled and unconscious on the ground, broken like a rag doll. Blood trickled from his right ear, and she touched it if only to see if this was real. It was warm, sticky, metallic smell already adulterating the sterile cold of the palace. A waterbender was after them. And he could completely control this environment.

Fuck.

Azula scanned the area, legs and body hovering over Sokka protectively. Instinct goaded her to cut and run, but she couldn’t. That was impossible. She couldn’t leave him, broken, vulnerable. Is he even breathing? She didn’t check. The potential answer was too terrifying, and she couldn’t risk what it would do to her stability.

Could she move him? Where would she put him? Where could he be safe? She had no idea where the bender was, and she let her chi take over, listen for the motion of a punch or kick, look for the flicker of her attacker in the wide expanse of white and blue.  

Her heart throbbed. It was painful, pushing and scraping at her chest. She didn’t have time to go about this cautiously. Sokka had a head injury. He was bleeding out on the floor, body smashed between solid ice. He needed to get help. She needed to get him help.

Patience was a luxury she could no longer afford, and the edge, the violence in her torrented.  

“Your fight is with me.” Azula made sure her words cut strong, the old, well-known cruelty soaked into each syllable. She stood up from Sokka’s body, his blood still dripping from her fingers, and pressed her hand solidly against the wall. A hole deepened against her palm, and ice water flumed from her fire. Azula kept her voice level. “I will bring this whole fucking palace down if you don’t show yourself.”

Her threat echoed. There were probably guards rushing to her location right now. But that was good. She could make them help Sokka first.

Would they help Sokka?

She cursed herself for never really paying attention to Southern and Northern Water Tribe relations. The South had seemed so inconsequential, more screaming toddler than war machine. It had been a footnote in her past life, and now she didn’t know whether the North would help Sokka or make sure a future, rival chief was dead.

Azula took a step away from Sokka’s fallen body. She wouldn’t leave him, but she couldn’t wait for this would-be assassin either. An old lesson from her father flashed through her mind, and she ignited both her hands with blue flame. Threats are only good if you can fulfill them.

There was a satisfying sizzle, a fog of steam and heat as her bending made contact with two pillars supporting the hallway structure. The surrounding wall and foundation melted more than fell, pool of ice water beginning to puddle at her feet. There was a sharp crack, and a horizontal line webbed the hall. It was weakened but wouldn’t collapse, not yet. She kept her eyes up as she moved Sokka to a leaning position. The blood on his cheek was impossibly red, and Azula realized he was too pale and already beginning to wane. An imaginary clock ticked.

“Come out and kill me. You have a gross advantage.” That was a lie, despite her prior thoughts. Azula recognized this fury, this anger, this funneled, precise power that she used to decimate her opponents in battles past. It seemed fueled by something different now. Not pride or shame but something she could only describe as fear. Fear of losing not herself or her reputation but Sokka. She couldn’t lose Sokka.

The water around her ankles began to freeze. It was too fast, too hard, and Azula let it happen. She flexed her ankles under the solid sheet and ducked as the masked figure turned a corner and flew a dagger of ice at her head. Dozens more zipped past her. They were released like arrows, quiver never empty, and as they started to prick at her cheek and neck, Azula tired of playing games and sent a wave of blue fire toward her attacker.

The walls singed, dripped at the heat, and the once pristine ice hallway was shrouded in steam. The mounted furs and woven, archaic tapestries lit up like wicks, and Azula smirked. It would be so easy, so quick to send this palace toppling down. Sokka’s safety and their escape were the only wrinkles, but the assassin didn’t need to know that. Azula continued a flurry of punches, tiny flames quick and perforating the air like blue fireflies. They seeped into the walls, the floors, and surrounded the cloaked man until the floor around him began to sink. The waterbender seemed to realize this and started patching some of the weaker spots. The normal smooth, dance-like motion of waterbending became staccato, rushed. Azula used the distraction to free her feet from the ground.

She kicked high, hips stretching and cracking under the weight of her heavy outfit. The fire burned through the soles of her boots and hit her attacker in the shoulder. He screamed, and it was visceral, satisfying. He was burnt through, and Azula knew that feeling well and knew it would be brief. The nerves in his arm would soon die, and he would be left with nothing but a charred, useless joint.

The waterbender’s dominant hand appeared to be the other side, and he immediately retaliated. Water swirled around from the floor and wrapped around her, starting loose around her legs, her torso, her hands, before solidifying around her neck. She was being choked. The ice was cold and unyielding, and her throat felt as if it would collapse, as if it would crush like glass from this weight. She couldn’t bend properly while immobile, and the panic made her see all white. This was exactly how she was dethroned. Restrained. Covered by water. And the toxic feelings were overwhelming. She was a failure—too weak for the throne. Weaker than Zuko, than some waterbending peasant. Too weak to protect Sokka—Sokka. He would think of a way out. While firebending was all aggression and unlimited power, Sokka relied on nothing but a boomerang and the mistakes of his opponents.

Mistakes.

She had made so many against Zuko and Katara. She thought about it often. Her biggest mistake was underestimating Zuko, thinking he was the same little boy that let rage and anger drive him rabid and volatile. That Zuko she could have defeated even if her bending were taken, but the Zuko she faced was emboldened. Strategic. Better than her.  

So many mistakes.

She should have never shot the lightning bolt at Katara. For one, it was cheating, and though their battle was less Agni Kai and more one-on-one revolt, it was still inexcusable. Suddenly, she had two powerful benders against her, and she was still unfamiliar with the extent of waterbending. But she couldn’t bend lightning now, and even if she could, the whole palace would be a giant, though weak, conductor.

Her attacker approached her. He was tall, broad, and draped in a heavy dark blue cloak, face hidden behind that haunting mask. His hand gripped at his shoulder, and the arm looked limp, maybe dead. Azula felt the satisfied sneer paint her face despite the chokehold.  

“I’m sure you get this often,” he started. “But you are one incredible bitch.”

She did get that often, but the words seem to prick and needle at her chest. The ice tightened around her throat, and it started to burn her revealed skin. She couldn’t see behind his mask, and the voice was young though unrecognizable to her. His wrists and hands revealed darker skin, well-manicured nails, and she knew he was rich and Northern. Azula couldn’t speak, and her eyes naturally moved to where Sokka sat, sagging against the wall. His head was lifeless, complexion almost the same shade as her own skin. Don’t die. She couldn’t die here. She couldn’t let him die.

“I didn’t expect that reaction.” The bender created a sphere of water from the floor. It danced between them, beautiful and clear as Azula slowly lost more and more air. It didn’t feel too different than drowning. “The way you screamed his name…it wasn’t meant to distract you. I thought you’d run.”

Azula coughed. “Heal…him…”

“What?” The water sphere froze in mid-air and collapsed, shattering into shards. Particles bit at her skin. “Why would I do that? This mission would have been a success if I killed either one of you. But both?” He was so close now. She could see the blue of his eyes behind the mask. They weren’t familiar, too pale, too weak and cruel and nothing like Sokka’s. But in their closeness, Azula could see herself. Could see the blatant mistake and death sentence.

This was where she should get her nickname. Dragon of Ice. Dragon of Revenge or of the North or of burning someone’s face off as the fire rocketed from her core and out of her mouth. The ice around her neck melted as she blew, and the flames were blue, almost white as the man’s screams turned to a breaking hiss.

He quickly went silent. The mask melted into his skin, hair and navy hood burnt away completely. She watched him fall, dead but to her still vile and dangerous. The acrid smell of his skin was something she would never get used to, no matter how many people she burned. It seemed to seep into her nose, tangible proof of how horrific a way this was to die. But Azula could not bring herself to pity him, to even second guess her actions.

She blew hot air straight down, and the ice around her began to loosen and melt. There were shouts in the hallway. The useless night guards had finally realized something was wrong and needed their attention. It was a good reminder that she still needed to run. Azula broke through the rest of her restraints and knelt down to Sokka, ignoring her own bruised neck. The blood from his temple and ears had stopped. It was dry now against his face, but the pool on his shoulder was still warm. Her fingers shook as they lowered to his neck, and she let out a muted cry at the soft quake of a pulse.

Panic spiked through her again when the guards came into view. She didn’t know any of them, couldn’t trust any of them, and the one with the most elaborate fur trim was the only one to approach her close enough so she could hear. “What happened here?”

Azula read him. It was the only thing she could do. The guard’s eyes ricocheted between the smoking body to her cradling the Southern ambassador in her lap. His confusion was evident, real and strong, and Azula had to take the gamble. “He needs a healer.”

The guard walked carefully towards her and bent to check Sokka’s pulse. She tried not to jump protectively but still fidgeted as they touched. The guard’s face was tired, war-torn evident. “He needs something more advanced than that.”

She shivered.

“Sir?” One of the other men approached who she assumed to be their leader. His spear was held tightly in his hand, positioned to attack. He whispered to the head guard and fell into a defensive stance.

The head guard rose slowly from his knelt position and held up a hand to steady his men. “Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, in accordance with the Treaty of Gaoling, we hereby take you into …”

“He needs a healer.” She repeated, tearing through his speech effortlessly, dominating the man with sheer presence alone. Azula needed them to focus, and she tugged Sokka closer to her chest. Red stained his sister’s parka and Azula’s hands and neck.

The head guard’s speech fell. “We will make sure Ambassador Sokka receives care for his injuries.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her vision was blurred, washed. “How can I believe you?”

The men behind him all took the same defensive stance. She had seen a similar form from Sokka before, and she hugged him tighter. The burnt smell of the dead man’s body was replaced by Sokka’s scent, the cloying, smell of salt and blood. “There’s…there’s an oasis. We will see to it…”

“Take me with you,” she commanded, and she briefly thought it was the most regal she had ever sounded. The hesitation in the guards was still present, and she coiled her arms around Sokka’s chest to give them no other option. Her bribe with Sokka flashed in her mind. “Take me with you and then you can take me. I’ll go quietly.”

Still, they hesitated, and it felt impossibly long, the imaginary clock ticking faster and faster, a blatant inverse of Sokka’s heartrate. “Please.”

The word was not regal or stately or powerful. It was weakness and desperation, unadulterated honesty. The head guard gestured twice, and four of his men lifted Sokka from her arms. She resisted a bit before letting go, and two more men approached and bound her hands behind her back.

She was warm in the oasis. Her face immediately flushed with the heat, and she felt the softness of the grass under her feet. It was a relief. Her boots were burnt through from her fire, and it was painful to the point of numbness to follow the guards here. There was a man already waiting, and Azula stiffened at the recognition. She had seen him only in paintings, but even if she hadn’t, the stature and robes would tell her that he was their leader. She used to think the North played at royalty, savages in a rich man’s clothes.

Chief Arnook reminded her of Azulon. Inscrutable. Powerful. Someone she needed to impress but had no chance of doing so. His blue robes were thin, delicately trimmed with oiled leather and fastened with white bone. He didn’t pay her any attention as he approached Sokka, felt his temple, and Azula knew that, unlike Azulon, she would like this man.

The guards held her back and away. She was only at the entrance to the oasis, while Sokka was brought in deeper to the mouth of a small pool. An older woman had apparently come with the chief. She stayed by the small pool in the center, eyes downcast and focused on…on something. Azula could only watch as she manipulated the water from the pool up to her hands. It glowed in the moonlight, silver and viscous as she moved to press it against Sokka’s head.

Arnook and this woman hovered over him, looking for signs of consciousness, and Azula strained herself to do the same. She could only see his chest grow and fall higher and deeper, and the old woman smiled and said, “The Moon Spirit would never let this one die.”

Thank you, Yue. The thought was strange and unbidden. Azula felt like an intruder.

The guards silently agreed and began to move her out of the oasis. Sokka was left on the ground, breathing but immobile. She wanted to resist. She wanted to pour out more and more fire and leave with him, but two things held her back. For one, this place was sacred. To destroy it would be profane, sacrilege. And two, Sokka would never forgive her.

Appa must have dropped him.

That was his first thought as his eyes shuttered open, and everything seemed too bright and white and cold. Was he home? He saw a woman over a basin of water and he first thought it was Azula of all people. But the coloring was all wrong, and why would Azula be here at all?

She was younger than Gran Gran, and he felt like he must have fallen from some height, so it was probably Katara. His head and back ached, throbbed with shaking pain, but his vision started to clear. He was laying down in some sort of bed. It was more lux than anything they had in the South, but the temperature and materials made him think he was in one of the poles. The woman was not Katara but some other healer that told him he was fine. He lost a lot of blood and had a few burn marks, but he would make a full recovery.

Burn marks.

He stiffened in the bed, body shooting up even as he moaned through the pain. Azula. Where was Azula? He started to ask the question but swallowed down the words. No one was supposed to know that Azula was here. They were supposed to come here in secret, find the Kemurikage sponsor, and get out.

They found us.

The memory hit harder than any fall. Azula’s unexpectedly soft, innocent kiss. The mask on the bed. The full force of his spine and skull hitting the solid ice of the ceiling and everything else was just black and the faint smell of ash and blood.

Azula.

The waterbender tried to hold him down, and she was unfortunately too successful. Sokka was still weak but incredibly noncompliant. He thrashed as much as could under the furs, which caused his whole body to ache. The woman chanted, hummed as she held her fingers against the pressure points of his eyes to calm him. She sang softly, and it was ancient, familiar. He knew it was his mother in the memory, singing under the orange glow of their igloo, but it was Katara’s voice and eyes that came to him.

"Though howling nights may find you

She will call you home.

The darkness may surround you,

But she will bring you home.

Under the milk of starlight,

The ice will be your bones,

The waves your tears and smile.

She will be your home."

It exhausted him. Paralyzed, and his mind felt languid, stew-like. He remembered the moon over him. Yue. Kissing his temple, smiling, crying, saying everything was okay. She was okay. Sokka relaxed, mind clear, and Katara’s voice echoed through him. The song was about the moon, but not to him.

Not anymore.

When he woke up again, no one was in his room. He didn’t look for his healer or stop when some guard informed him that he was in the palace infirmary and needed to rest. Sokka started looking through rooms, chest tearing a bit more when they turned up empty or with some stranger in the bed.

Where are you?

She had to be here. If she wasn’t, it meant she left him. Or she was dead. Both thoughts made him panic, terrified for completely different reasons. He had burn marks on his body, though he couldn’t remember any flames. Sokka, still in the light blue hospital robe and trousers, left the infirmary to head back to his room where he hoped Azula waited.

The sheen of the ice looked new, glossy, and the furs and art that hung on the walls of his room’s hallway were absent. The air smelled putrid, and Sokka’s fear continued to heighten as he kicked the door to his room open.

No one was there. Their bags were gone. His weapons were probably still in some hospital lockbox with his other clothes, but there was no trace of Azula anywhere.

Ran or dead.

No. That couldn’t be true. Azula was so damn good at fighting. She had survived so much and wouldn’t, couldn’t die on him now.

Would she have left him?

Sokka leaned against the wall. That had seemed more likely. The princess was used to running, and why would she stay here if her life were threatened?

For me.

The thought seemed selfish and faulty.

“Sokka.”

Hahn was behind him and already in his room. Sokka turned quickly and saw the other man hold his sword and boomerang. He handed the boomerang over, and Sokka couldn’t even mouth a thank you, mind still trying to piece together what happened. Hahn balanced the sword between his two hands, fascinated. “Your clothes are being washed still, but I thought you’d want these back at least.”

The thank you came out this time. Sokka smoothed the boomerang down and then placed it on the bed. The black and white mask was gone.

“On behalf of the Northern Water Tribe, let me be the first to apologize. Your safety should have never been at risk.” His tone was serious, losing the arrogant edge Sokka was accustomed to. It was the first time he ever liked Hahn, and he scowled. Perhaps his head injury was bigger than he thought.

Hahn followed him deeper in the room, still gripping Sokka’s sword. “I always admired this weapon.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. A jian was not a typical Water Tribe weapon at all. The metal and craftmanship radiated enemy. “Have you?”

“Fire Nation made.” He held it up awkwardly. “And trained?”

Sokka nodded. “Yes.”

“Is that how you met the princess?”

Azula. So, they knew she was here. He held back his alarm. “I was trained under Master Piandao. He’s a member of the White Lotus like Master Pakku.”

Hahn sniffed and handed the sword to Sokka. Unlike his boomerang, Sokka didn’t drop it on the bed right away. He still had nothing to attach it to his back, but he needed to hold onto it. He maintained eye contact with Hahn, shocked to see that his face was not adversarial or crude but worried. Sokka lowered the weapon, setting it down by his side. “Where is she?”

“She’s a war criminal,” Hahn said simply. “We are obligated under the Treaty of Gaoling…”

Sokka didn’t need to hear anymore. He knew where she was. Azula wasn’t dead. She didn’t run. She was imprisoned, and he had to get to her. Hahn grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from rushing out of the room. Instead, he led Sokka through a complicated labyrinth of white hallways and stairs until they reached a far, far corner of the palace Sokka had never been to.

This side of the palace was dark, almost unbearably cold in Sokka’s current attire. There seemed to be no heat in this whole section, and he thought back to the Boiling Rock and the coolers. They were meant to incapacitate firebenders, and the North was a natural one. Hahn was the only thing he needed to get passed the prison guards at the front entrance and inside the small palace jail. Oiled lamps flickered low as they entered the confined hallway, solid metal doors blocking Sokka and Hahn from the people on the other side.

There was no window or light. That was the first thing Sokka noticed besides his own thick breath as Hahn stopped. The door was deep, towards the end of what seemed more like a tunnel of ice, and two guards were stationed outside. Both were waterbenders, and both moved simultaneously to remove the complex mechanism separating Sokka from the girl inside.

She was completely cast in shadow. Her body spasmed, fidgeted, and as Sokka approached her, he saw she was dressed in nothing more than a light, long tunic. No pants. No shoes. Her black hair crowned her face, and Sokka dragged her to his chest, flinching at the feeling of ice rather than skin.

“Azula.” He buried his nose into her hair. She smelled like sweat and fire. “Azula.” He didn’t have a coat to offer her. Her lips were tinted blue, face hollow, and he dragged her hands up to his mouth, blowing hot air against her palms. She was unbound but frozen.

“You’re…you’re alive.” She gripped him harshly, and Sokka took note of her breathing. Hypothermia hadn’t set in yet, and he gently rubbed her chest, her throat, her arms. Azula seemed to crumble under his touch, gold eyes holding an impossible glow in the cell of ice.

He held her closer, and her heart quickened, body warming under his own heat. Sokka blew against her neck softly, as if he were nurturing a dying fire. Her hold tightened and he leaned in to nip at her ear. “I am.”

“Someone’s at the door,” she whispered back. Azula looked at their chests flushed together, his hands curving over every inch of her skin. “Sokka…”

“I know.” He kissed her cheek. She was still freezing against him, but she was also alive, also here, and he couldn’t think how anything else mattered.

Azula ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t noticed it was loose. Her lips were chapped, still tinted blue, but he had never wanted to kiss anyone more. She swallowed his name as he leaned down, mouth angling, warming hers completely as they made contact. Azula broke away from him instantly, eyes searching, waiting for him to…to what?

Do you know what you’re doing?

His thoughts took on her voice.

Do you know who I am?

“I know.” He pushed a bang behind her ear and touched the center of her lips. They were wet, breath hot against him. “I don’t care.” And when he replaced his finger with his mouth, he was met with the full feel of her slowly, burningly pulling him until the cold started to prickle and erode into a quaking heat. He held her face between his hands to hold her upright, to guide her mouth achingly against his own. She felt like static. Like the flickering lick of a flame from a match. She felt hesitant but wanting, and her words trickled through his mind, foggy and far as he tugged her bottom lip.

Have you thought about what you would call it then?

Insanity.

Sokka pulled back to kiss her nose, her forehead.

There was no better word for it.

Chapter Text

This was not a good idea.

Sokka held her chi between his lips, every touch and brush and nip sending waves of heat that made her tremble and bend. He easily absorbed her, and Azula could feel herself losing control. She let it slip, unravel, instead immersing herself with the unfamiliarity of physical touch. The smooth brown hair hitting her cheeks as he leaned. The wet, smooth contact of his lips against her nose, her forehead, her mouth, searing like a brand on her freezing skin.

For now, she could ignore that he was making a mistake, that the head guard was there and attempting to figure out whether Sokka belonged in a straightjacket or if manipulation should be added to her list of crimes.

Sokka held her cheeks, bit her lip. She pushed against him, and then became increasingly concerned about what she should do with her hands, almost wishing that she were bound again if only for an excuse. Her confidence ebbed as he broke away. Is this right? Am I doing this right? He held her like she was fragile, precious—not the girl who burned a man’s face to the bone, not a Fire Nation princess or a criminal. No one had held her like this before.

Azula found she liked her right hand in Sokka’s hair. It was softer than she thought it would be, knots appearing only towards the edge as she combed. It was long, silken, and straight. She pictured it in the traditional top knot of her people but then thought better. That was too fast. That was not real. And why focus on that when the real, current Sokka was holding her? His eyes hadn’t left her face and lips, and her self-consciousness broke.

“Hello.” Spirits, she was awkward. She was able to inspire pride or fear with a flick of her silver tongue, but here she was defenseless. Azula retreated the hand from his hair and sat back on her knees.

Sokka smiled easily, and a soft laugh pulled the tips of his mouth high. The ice walls captured the weak light from the outside, and the soft blue glow radiated through the tiny cell. It cast shadows on his cheekbones, against his neck, and her nervousness multiplied. Here in the cold, so near to her…he was beautiful. “Hello, Azula. Hope you didn’t wait long for me?”

“You could have been faster.” The dig was easier to say, and a puff of air escaped her. Her chi could only keep her body at a comfortable temperature for so long. She felt drained and light-headed, and she knew it was only partially from Sokka’s kiss. Her fingers traced the side of his head. The skin was purple and green, but the blood was gone. He was alive.

He was alive and he…he…

“I’ll speak to Chief Arnook about finding a more comfortable cell.”

Her amber eyes snapped to the head guard still in the doorframe, and she tried to swallow her annoyance at his presence. He was the one who brought Sokka to the oasis, who allowed her to watch him and then, unceremoniously, stripped and dragged her into this icebox. His logic was inarguable—she was a war criminal. And though her crimes against the Northern Water Tribe were nonexistent, her crimes against the Earth Kingdom certainly weren’t. Peace treaties were annoying, especially on the losing side.

“I’ll take her into custody.” Sokka seemed to remember himself finally. He stood, disheveled. His brown hair was twisted by her fingers, and the thin robe he wore was drawn away from his shoulders. He straightened his clothing, but any formality was lost when he had knelt down in front of her. Azula knew that and in any other scenario would have taken advantage of it. But who was this man to argue against a foreign ambassador?

“I can’t allow that.” The head guard argued back easily, and Azula corrected his title in her head. He was someone much more important than that. She touched the bruises on her neck, but the man at the door had a spear on his back, a bone club on his hip. He wasn’t a bender, and the man who attacked them was undoubtedly dead. The man continued, “Unless you plan to transport her to the Fire Nation for her to stand trial.”

Sokka nodded curtly. “I have orders from Fire Lord Zuko to do exactly that.”

“You’re a little off course.”

“Hahn, you brought me here. You couldn’t have thought that I would allow her to…”

“I brought you here as a diplomatic courtesy. Surely you’re not naïve enough or…infatuated enough to expect me to release her.”

“He’s not naïve.” Azula tired of the men talking about her so openly, as if they were arguing over a bag of cabbages. She continued to kneel on the floor, careful to be non-threatening, but allowed her back to straighten She felt taller despite her mess of a tunic and the bruises on her neck. “And we’re all a little too jaded to ever be deemed infatuated. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain Hahn?” She tensed her forehead at his confusion, eyebrows knitting together. “No, that was years ago…is it General now?”

“Crown Prince.”

“Ah.” She tried to whisper calmly and ignore the blatant shock on Sokka’s face. So, he hadn’t expected that—what did he expect? Azula thought back to his mentions of the Southern Reconstruction Project, of his own father democratically elected to be Head Chief. Did he expect the Northern Water Tribe to follow suit?

No. There was more than that on his face. Sokka, though masterfully strategic, often let his emotions play out openly. She hadn’t noticed it as readily before, and perhaps it was a consequence of them spending too much time together.

Consequence.

Azula swallowed, unconsciously touched her lips. They were still warm. “I understand your concern.” Her words were laced with sincerity, but Hahn would be an idiot to believe her outright. “You have a duty to your nation and to your upcoming position to ease tensions as much as possible. But you must have noticed my…” What could she call it? Azula steadied her chin. “…my attachment to Ambassador Sokka. I won’t leave without him or do something that could possibly…offend.”

“More importantly, holding Princess Azula here is in direct conflict with a royal order from the Fire Nation,” Sokka added. Her heart hummed. “And if I remember the Treaty of Gaoling correctly—which I should; I was there—any criminal of the Hundred Year War should first be tried in his or her nation of citizenship.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to lay it flat. Azula felt a pang, apparently jealous of his own touch. “I don’t think I’ll have to prove that Princess Azula is…”

“You don’t,” Hahn interrupted. “But you do have to prove that you actually intend to take her back to the Fire Nation to be prosecuted.”

She sniffed. “Have you met my brother? What else do you think would happen?”

“Amnesty.”

The word gripped her heart and squeezed. That was…that was what she wanted, what she had always intended but always found undeserving. Her older brother, her once pesky, angsty, weak brother could offer her some semblance of freedom. He had shown mercy to her once, an insulting brand of mercy that meant time in a padded cell versus a stone one, but she doubted she would be met with the same leniency twice. And to be honest, she didn’t want to be labeled unwell. Not again. Plus, it did nothing to excuse…

“Then she’d be sent to the Earth Kingdom to stand trial.” Sokka’s voice sounded wooden, hollow. So…he had thought of that as well. He had kissed her despite all of this, all of who she was and what she had done.

Why?  She couldn’t understand it. He found her attractive, but Sokka didn’t seem the type of man to let lust negate all reason. Azula felt the chill of her cell overwhelm her again, and she shivered. Sokka also rubbed at his own arms, entirely too underdressed.

Hahn glanced between the two of them. “We should have this discussion elsewhere, Sokka.”

“No. Princess Azula is not being charged for any crime against the Northern Water…”

“She is, actually.” Hahn looked at her, and his face was stained with anger, a personal rage she knew quite well. The diplomacy and neutrality shed quickly from his broad body. “She murdered a citizen of the Northern Water Tribe in this very palace.”

Azula wanted to laugh. That was her weakest offence, and she was surprised how it seemed to torment Hahn. She waved a hand instead. “Self-defense.”

“An argument you can make when you stand trial.”

“No trial.” Sokka took a step towards her and leaned down. He was brimming with confidence and…and power. He slipped off his slippers and socks, and then carefully maneuvered the heavy material over her own feet. She flushed with relief. The warmth was immediate, and she wished they were alone so that she could kiss him again. “Diplomatic immunity.”

Hahn laughed, short and crude. “You’re kidding right? She may be a Fire Nation princess, but her diplomatic immunity was relinquished after she was declared a war criminal.”

“I meant my diplomatic immunity.” He rubbed at her toes, her calves, and then helped her stand. Azula allowed it, body now numb with  both cold and shock. Sokka brought her close against his chest, angling her arm around his neck. “I killed him.”

Hahn raised a rightfully doubtful eyebrow. “His face was burnt off.”

“I threw an oil lamp at him. He retaliated and smashed me against the ceiling.” Sokka jostled her so she was closer.

“If that’s true, it’ll come up after an investigation.”

“There should be an investigation,” Sokka bit back. “One that also includes how a waterbender managed to break in and attempt to assassinate me. Strange that he managed to break in at all, don’t you think? I’ll call for a magistrate from the Southern Water Tribe to look into this plot.”

“Plot?” Hahn’s face paled at the word. “Sokka…”

“Let Azula out.” He didn’t mince words, and she was glowing with pride, with an all-consuming warmth that made her nearly forget where she was. “We’ll wipe that incident clean, and I’ll bring her to the Fire Nation as promised.”

Hahn’s mouth curled into a small, dissatisfied frown. His right hand fell to the bone club on his belt. “Chief Arnook and I will need to hear why you came to the Northern Water Tribe in the first place.”

Sokka’s body tensed against hers, and Azula nodded. “We’ll tell you.”

“I’ll accompany you back to your room.” Hahn sent a hard look, eyeing them up and down. “I assume you’ll only need one?”

His hands found her body effortlessly as soon as the door closed and they were left alone. The walk from the jail had been tense and too cold. The minutes before that seemed more like a fever dream, a bout of delirium. Azula’s only assurance that she was safe and that they had kissed at all were the socks on her feet and Sokka’s light grip on the small of her back.

That grip hardened now. It slid and pressed against her abdomen, curving harshly around the base of her spine, and she stood on her tiptoes to shorten the distance between their lips. He met her immediately, and she could feel his smile, feel the easiness and the sheer need of him as he pushed against her and held her neck.

She felt breathless, skin erect and entirely too sensitive. Some of his touches hurt. He was strong, and her body was still bruised and achy from the waterbender, but Azula was reluctant to recoil. This couldn’t—wouldn’t—happen often, maybe never again. She had to make sure it didn’t end prematurely.

She still struggled to find a use for her hands. His were a weapon, a tool devised to make her wanton. They moved against her, warm and burning, and she leaned into every skim and flex of his fingers. Azula found hers back in his hair again, nails teasing at the bend of his ear carefully. She felt like she should be doing more. Something bolder, sensual. She paused as Sokka hummed against her, lips vibrating. His breath shortened, and Sokka kissed the side of her mouth. “That felt nice.”

His words encouraged her, bolstered her confidence, and Azula dragged her fingers down, harder past his larynx until they scratched at the crook of his neck. He moaned something inaudible, the words lost as he continued to nip at her mouth.

Azula felt her cheeks redden, and she placed her hands on his chest, now appreciating how thin his shirt was. The hard, smooth muscle rebounded from the pads of her thumbs. “I… haven’t done this.” She felt she owed an explanation for her ineffectiveness.

“Any of this?” Sokka curled his nose under her jawline. His tongue felt like fire as it licked her pulse.

Embarrassment flooded her. “Only kissed. Only…only once.”

He sucked at a soft spot of skin. Her knees wobbled. “Lucky guy.”

“Sokka…”

He backed away to look at her, face a perpetual grin. She exhaled deeply. He looked lupine, smug, even as he delicately placed a kiss above her brow and pulled away. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Tell me what you want.” She swallowed. His expression morphed into surprise, and his cheeks flushed red. Azula crossed her arms, and she could feel the race of her heart. It nearly made her fall over. “I can’t handle mediocrity. In any scenario.”

“Azula...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his own chest struggling to breathe. The bangs of his hair fell in front of his eyes, and Sokka messily pushed them aside before licking his lips. “I…I, uh. Fuck. We don’t have time for me to get into that.”

She cocked her head to the side, and his whole body tensed at the motion, at the simple action of her fingers touching her lip. Fascinating. Azula moved them between his pectorals, pushing between the ridge of his chest. It was uncanny. This timidity, this inexperience. And though she was unpracticed, she could feel the way Sokka looked at her, and she felt a crest of pride. She dragged her hand across his cheekbone. He flinched, hypersensitive. It was incredibly gratifying. "You’ve thought about it then?”

His pointer fingers lined the bottom of her breastbone, and Azula flexed her feet down to rest her weight on him. Sokka tugged at his own lip, blue eyes cloudy. “In excruciating detail.”

He kissed her again, hard, furious, and Azula stopped thinking about what to do with her hands, her arms, her lips, and let Sokka take control. It was freeing but terrifying to let him guide her, to let him move her arms around his shoulders, to allow him to hold her hips and steady her, lead her back and back until her calves hit the front of the bed. He broke away and inhaled. The flush was smooth and full on his face, and she could see the want in it all. His eyes flickered to the bed and back to her, and though he still held on to her hips tightly, his words came out mismatched. “We should stop.”

The heat that flooded her lower stomach vanished, cooled and twisted into a web of a fear. Sokka realized his mistake. He thought better. Or she had done something wrong. She didn’t live up to whatever vision he had of her, and it was no longer worth the risk, the embarrassment…

“Hey.” His hands moved up and down her waistline slowly, thumbs pushing at her belly button and under her rib cage. “I don’t like the look on your face.” His kiss was gentle, mouth pulling, sucking at her upper lip before he said, “Want me to…to pretend this didn’t happen?”

“No.” Her answer slipped immediately.

“Good. Because I couldn’t.”

“Why do you want to stop?”

He blinked at the question, incredulous. “I don’t want to stop. I…I just think we should. You know? I, um, how do I say this?” Sokka took a step away from her, his touch and warmth completely moving away. Azula, uncomfortable at his apparent nervousness, sat back on the bed. “We have under an hour to get ready before meeting Chief Arnook. And I still sort of smell like blood and have a massive headache. I wouldn’t be at my best.”

“Best?”

He ignored the question. “Azula, I like you.”

And she knew that, didn’t she? It was the only real explanation for his actions, the desire she felt when he touched her, kissed her. That couldn’t be reproduced if it were one sided. A spark needed both steel and flint. But still, her surprise was ever-present, and she felt her toes curl, her spine tense not at the simple, basic words, but at the absolute candor of them. Azula crossed her legs on the bed, rubbed her arms up and down. “I…Sokka, I…”

“You like me too.” Sokka winked. “It’s okay. I know.”

“This will be difficult.”

“Probably.” He fell next to her on the bed and slipped a swift, wet kiss on her cheek. She immediately blushed. “We can discuss that later. For now, can we just get ready so we can get this meeting with Arnook over with? I sort of just want to make out with you again as soon as possible.”

That was his best plan yet.  

Azula, in an uncharacteristic display of selflessness, allowed him to take a bath first. He barely waited for the water to heat up before he fell in, soaking his body, small bits of dried blood starting to dissipate as he rubbed and scratched at his skin.

The cold helped but not as much as he’d like. He was still wound up, still had that lower hunger burning in his groin that wouldn’t be quelled without touch. Later. The thought made him smile. There would be a later. There would be a time and a place when all of this was done and he wasn’t still concussed. Then he could truly feel her. The soft weight of her breasts in his hand, contrasted by the hard, muscle of her abdomen, her thighs. She’d let him touch her, and she seemed eager to touch him too. Tell me what you want.

She had no idea what effect she had, did she?

Or she did and was playing him. If so, it was a masterstroke. He’d gladly concede.

Sokka attempted to dull his libido, instead turning his thoughts to what to do next. Azula seemed wiling to divulge everything, and Sokka agreed with her, within reason. It was—to put it mildly—alarming that a Kemurikage assassin could break into the palace walls. Not as alarming, however, as Hahn being named Arnook’s successor. There was no next of kin. Sokka knew that. Yue was Arnook’s only child, and with all close relations dead after the war, the next leader of the Northern Water Tribe was left to Arnook’s discretion.

But Hahn?

Maybe that was always the intent. As Yue’s betrothed, he would have been granted significant influence. He had callously told Sokka Yue was his best option given the perks, and as a soldier—a child—also forged in war, maybe Hahn wasn’t too dissimilar from Sokka.

That didn’t excuse blindsiding him. Sokka was sure his father had no idea of this plan. There had been murmurs of an equal reunification, the South no longer a colony or separate entity but a complete, whole partner with the North. His father and Malina would sometimes pepper him with hypotheticals on his visits South. A treaty beyond an alliance would bring the South Pole security, technology. It would bring the North a cultural linkage to the increasingly famous Southern Water Tribe, home of two Avatar heroes.

The logistics would be an absolute disaster. Azula would lambast the idea without question, but Sokka wouldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to see it.

He pulled the plug on the drain when he was satisfied that his skin was clean and his mind was settled. There was still too much to sort through—Azula mostly—but he couldn’t plan too far ahead, not until he was certain Arnook and Hahn could be trusted.

Fuck.

How did he get to this point? Where Azula was his ally, someone he trusted completely while his distrust was with the Water Tribe? His reflection in the fogged mirror looked ancient. Dark circles rimming his eyelids and the hollows of his cheekbones. The blue of his eyes took on a grey, cloudy look, pupils too dilated. There was a low throb of a headache, but despite that, his symptoms didn’t seem too awful when compared to the mess of black and blue on his head.

He left the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around his waist, and saw Azula already peering at the standing wardrobe in the room. It was leftover clothes from past trips, most more traditionally Northern than Sokka’s usual aesthetic. She picked a few of the smaller pieces, holding it up to her body, toes still wiggling in his socks.

Sokka buried down the need to kiss her again. “It’s all yours.”

The cool, unaffected look she normally had fell when she turned to him. Her eyes were pyres, tracing him up and down, and Sokka edged his fingers between the towel and his skin. She watched him and ran a hand through her own hair. “We’ve dropped all pretense, haven’t we?”

“I won’t argue if you just want to strip right here,” Sokka admitted. His wet hair stuck to his face, and for a second, he thought Azula would oblige. She moved to him, languid, fingers skimming the edge of her long tunic, and pressed her thigh against his—so, so close. Sokka swallowed.

Azula glanced down at the towel before her face erupted in a snide grin. “I think not.” She placed a kiss on his cheek and headed into the bathroom, door snapping shut behind her.

Sokka touched his cheek and leaned against the ice wall. His back bristled against the stark feel of cold. It was exactly what he needed.

Hahn knocked on their door soon after Azula finished dressing. Sokka, again trying to scrape up some semblance of rationality, excused himself to the bathroom while she dressed and only allowed himself to touch her platonically. When she had finished tying up one of Sokka’s older shirts and pants, Azula knocked on the bathroom door, face a persistent frown. “This has been my greatest failure.” A spare, oversized parka was draped on her shoulders, the fasteners poorly tied and mismatched. The princess still could not button a coat to save her life, and Sokka laughed at her struggle before giving in and fastening the toggles for her. She watched his fingers brush over the top of her coat, skimming the area above her breasts.

His thoughts jumped forward. “You’ll get used to it.”

Azula glanced up, a questioning look on her face. “Do you need help with your hair?”

It was in that moment that Hahn knocked. Sokka felt wordless at the offer and gave a quick shake of his head before allowing Hahn to come inside.

“Are you both ready?” Hahn’s voice was emotionless, and he quickly turned to head back into the hallway. Sokka and Azula followed. “It’s amazing the damage you did…from one lamp.” Hahn gestured to the walls outside, the patchwork of ice.

Sokka decided not to answer, and Azula tensed next to him. She wanted to admit it, didn’t she? She’d own that she’d kill that man without hesitation, but Sokka nudged her hand with his knuckles. “Where are we meeting Chief Arnook?”

“Close by. Follow me.”

They only went up one level to get to the room where Chief Arnook and a mass of waterbending guards waited outside. Sokka glanced to Azula to gauge her reaction. The princess seemed stoic. He supposed it would be dumb to expect they would have been alone, and Azula—a picture of her upbringing—dropped to her knees, hands delicately on her thighs. Unlike with Aang and Katara, she bent down fully, forehead touching the ice floor. And also unlike with Aang and Katara, Sokka could see the curve of her lips, the shame that should be there replaced with something more…threatening.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.” Her voice did not betray what Sokka saw, and he couldn’t tell if his own thoughts were of worry or admiration.

Chief Arnook nodded. “We owe a great deal to Ambassador Sokka.”

Azula’s form fidgeted, though she must have known none of this leniency was for her. Sokka only offered a hand. “And I thank you for it as well. Hopefully we can offer some explanation you find reasonable. But…” He took count of the guards surrounding them. All waterbenders from the lack of spears on their backs and the skins on their belts. “Our information is sensitive.”

“We won’t dismiss our guard with her involved,” Hahn answered. “She’s a powerful bender. One punch…”

“Then bind me.” Azula, still kneeling, held out her hands for good measure. “Go ahead. Do it right here. Unless you rather get a chair?”

They would rather get a chair, and Sokka could only watch as she sat, chin high, arms and legs fastened to the dark wood. The passive expression completely sapped out of her, despite her circumstance. Azula knew—loved—that she was a threat, and Sokka could read her grin easily. She thinks we’re in control. The thought eased him.

The waterbenders would be stationed outside while Sokka, Hahn, Azula, and Arnook were seated (or moved) around a small, square table in the room. The room was warm, well lit, and Sokka moved to unbutton what he could of Azula’s parka and then removed his own. Their clothes were folded neatly on the table, and their bags were against the far end of the wall. Next to their clothes, were piles and piles of leatherbound ledgers from the waterbending schools, and Sokka anticipated Arnook’s question, “We need evidence of a crime.”

Arnook raised an eyebrow and fingered through one of the ledgers. “A crime that involves one of our most prestigious schools? What kind of crime would that be?”

Sokka waited for Azula to answer, but the princess only looked to him. She was right. Her words would be meaningless here, and Sokka swallowed, realizing that her confidence wasn’t in herself or her ability but in his. “Money laundering, for one. Also funding terrorism. I believe the waterbender who attacked us must have been involved as well.”

“Involved in terrorism?” Hahn’s fists clenched. “How dare you!”

The reaction was too surprising, too strong. Sokka leaned back in his chair and shot Azula a look. “…I’m, uh, sorry?”

“The bender who attacked was after her and for good reason. You were just…just…”

“Collateral damage?” Azula sniffed. “He said he wanted both of us dead.”

Hahn shook his head furiously. “No. That can’t be right.”

“It is.” Sokka was only hearing this for the first time, but he knew Azula wouldn’t lie here, not about that. “He was after me too.” His blood felt cold. Who would want him dead?

Chief Arnook’s unreadable face turned grim “Hahn, please try to calm yourself.”

He couldn’t. “These accusations are ridiculous! I won’t stand for it!” Hahn moved in a flurry, pushing the ledgers around the table haphazardly and some on the floor. Arnook stood up to comfort the man, but Hahn was unbridled. He growled, feral, infuriated, before leaving the room without another word.

Sokka was nonplussed. What just happened? Sure, he disliked Hahn. He was suspicious of Hahn. But Hahn was too political savvy, too slick to just explode like that at an agreed upon joint session. Arnook fell back in his chair, regal posture gone. “I…I apologize for his behavior.”

“He knows him.” Azula’s smirk grew. Her tone was cold, accusatory. “How does he know the man that tried to kill Sokka?”

Arnook hesitated, eyes downcast, focused on one of the lines in the open ledger. “Family.”

Chapter Text

Azula leaned back in the chair, satisfied and relaxed. She looked positively cool, almost radiant while bound to the stiff wood of the chair. Sokka couldn’t relate to the feeling. He had met Hahn’s family before—his father also important in the military but never too engrained in politics. What was his name again? Amaqjaq? Amaruq? He was embarrassed to ask and looked to the ledger. The handwriting was illegible, but the strokes were the same. The exact same. The same name and script over and over again for some minuscule amount.

“You may untie her.”

He started at the statement, and his hands lost some of their dexterity as he maneuvered around Azula’s complicated knots. The princess rubbed her wrists when she was free, hands straying on top of Sokka’s just for a moment before she pushed her chair closer to the table. She maintained her posture and placed her palms flat on the table. Delicate. Royal. Arnook looked at her, impassive still, and turned around the ledger for her to see. “How would you know about this?”

She scanned the page quickly. “I used to belong to the same group as our attacker. Safe to say I have since left and have been working with my brother and Sokka. Sokka suggested we look into the waterbending schools. Our main…recruiter was a healer.” Azula bit her lip, seeing something Sokka couldn’t. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s kind of you to suggest, Princess Azula, but General Amaruq only had one waterbender in his family who has long graduated.” He opened another ledger, crestfallen. “And attended another school. He has no clear reason to give this institution money, especially such…large amounts.”

“His son is who I killed, isn’t it?” Sokka still maintained the lie, despite Azula clenching next to him. Arnook grimly nodded and began ticking more and more lines in the newly opened ledger.

That explained Hahn’s seemingly irrational fury, his yelling and storming out of the room. And as much as Sokka disliked the man, the sensation of guilt filled him. He was lucky enough to never know what it was like to lose a sibling, and he felt the warm grip of Azula’s hand cover his own. Her voice showed no similar sign of empathy. “We have to find out if he is involved with this as well.”

Arnook paled. “He can’t be.”

“With all due respect, Chief Arnook, we have to confirm that.” Sokka tried to keep his tone even, flat, but Azula glanced at him in a way that said he wasn’t very successful. He hedged, “This bender not only tried to kill me, but we believe the terrorist group he’s working with is trying to wipe out the Fire Nation Royal Family.”

Arnook turned to Azula. “I’m assuming that’s why you left?”

“We also had our differences concerning governing styles, but yes, the main reason was them trying to kill me.” She shrugged. “I’m not as forgiving as the Avatar.”

There was a persistent silence, which Sokka was so, so tempted to break with some slice of humor, some levity that would make the awkward air crumble and snap. He would have too, if it weren’t for the defeated expression on Arnook’s face, the traces of distrust and even disgust as he looked between himself and Azula. Sokka fidgeted. That emotion was expected. He should have expected it, been prepared. And if he and Azula…if this was anything, it was something he had to get used to.

His body ran cold, not surprising given where he was, but the chill felt different, deeper.

He ignored it as best he could. There was someone trying to kill him after all. That should have the majority of his attention. What were they supposed to do next? Track down Hahn. Hopefully the man hadn’t gotten too far. What if he had left to warn the Kemurikage? No… Sokka’s instinct refuted the idea. He was disgusted by the mere mention of what the waterbender—his brother—had intended to do, and if he were really working with the Kemurikage, he wouldn’t have taken him to Azula. Azula would probably be dead.

 They still needed to find him, and Sokka moved to do exactly that. Arnook’s raised hand held him back in his seat. “I will see to it that both Hahn and General Amaruq are brought in for questioning immediately. There’s no need for you to worry.”

“Of course not.” Azula crossed her arms. “Why would we worry when we’re here to oversee the questioning ourselves?”

Arnook hesitated. “I believe it would be in your best interest to leave the Northern Water Tribe immediately.”

“I humbly disagree,” Azula spat, the edge in her tone newly sharpened.

Sokka looked between the two. He knew Azula wanted to get out of here the moment she arrived, and her sudden desire to stay must have been brought on by Arnook. She doesn’t trust him. Alright, that was fair. Sokka couldn’t trust him either, despite how much he wanted to. “It’ll be a few days until Appa gets back here.” Sokka tried to explain to the chief. “Unless you rather have us in hiding…”

“I would,” Arnook interrupted. “For both of your safety.”

 That rang false. Arnook wouldn’t have cared about Azula; he had made that clear only moments earlier.

Azula’s eyebrow rose. “We agree on that.”

Sokka jerked. “We do?”

“Yes.” She stood from the seat and started to stack the ledgers. Azula grabbed their clothes from the table and bags from the side of the room and started packing. “The ambassador here surely knows somewhere we can stay outside the palace walls.” Her gold eyes flickered to him quickly. She did want to get out. Quickly too.

Sokka nodded. “I do.”

“I’ll send an escort to…”

“That’s alright.” Sokka moved to help the princess with their bags. “We’ll be fine on our own.”

Azula smiled briefly at the words but hesitated by the door. Sokka brushed her shoulder with his hand and felt her muscles settle against him. Arnook was still seated, still eyeing them and the ledgers they took sharply. Sokka swallowed. “You’ll keep us informed on the questioning?”

Arnook nodded, and Sokka found himself missing Toph incredibly. He really needed to know if he was being lied to.

The house that Sokka brought her to was too close to the palace for her liking, but Azula knew she was in no position to complain and that, despite both of their pedigrees, resources were limited.

“This spot is probably too obvious enough, but you’re right. We can’t stay in the palace.” Sokka maneuvered around the ice-created gate and dug through a stack of pottery filled with salt. He removed a small, metal key from the bottom and gestured Azula closer to the front door. “It’s my grandparent’s house. We’re technically not breaking and entering.”

“That’s the crime I’m worried about.” Her sarcasm slipped, and she was happy to see Sokka smile. Azula eyed the house more seriously. “It is a little obvious.” But that would be the only objection Azula would vocalize. The house itself was grand, multi-storied and intricately carved from the glacier this city found itself nestled on. The outside itself took on a pure white sheen, and there were multiple balconies that looked out onto the flowing river instead of a street. It reminded her, weirdly, of Ember Island. The salt smell she now associated with Sokka. The water in constant motion, not nearly as powerful or rhythmic as the ocean, but calming just the same. Azula adjusted her hood again before following Sokka inside. The interior was dark, but there seemed to be a series of oil lamps lining the ceiling as well as a large hearth in the back. Azula lit them all quickly, blue fire settling into a warm, orange glow that illuminated the rest of the room.

Sokka sighed, chest falling, and he dumped his bag and weapons on a nearby chair in the front. The entrance room and main living area were domed in structure despite the square facade, smoke venting from some archaic chimney in the far back. Azula, however, was immediately drawn to the numerous scrolls on the wall. They were familiar in style and format, but the content was vastly different. The beautifully drawn martial artists seemed to bend and flow seamlessly down the page, curling blue ink into complex shapes and stances.

“Your grandparents are waterbending masters?” She suddenly felt minimally better about losing to Katara. “I assumed your family was completely from the South Pole.”

“My grandmother’s actually from the North but she isn’t a bender. Her new husband is Master Pakku. He’s the one that taught Aang and Katara.”

“Impressive.” Azula admitted and placed her bag next to Sokka’s. He was by her side after that, parka already off and over some chair, and his fingers manipulated the toggles of her coat so easily and quickly. He continued to undress her, sliding the treated leather from her shoulders, removing the extra layer of a tunic so she was left in nothing but some loose, blue sleeve-less shirt. This was also Sokka’s. She recognized it immediately. The white lining. The v-neck wrap. It smelled like a dulled version of him, and she flexed her fingers, moving them onto his chest again. Her thoughts swam of a teenage boy, someone shorter and thinner than the man she looked at now. She glanced briefly at the weapons on the floor, the metal and bone almost orange in the light, and then looked to the scrolls on the wall. “Do you resent it at all?”

He looked at her hands on his chest and held her waist. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not a bender. But the people you surround yourself with…” She suddenly thought of the Kyoshi Warrior. Was that why they connected so well? Did he…did he need that similarity in someone? “Does it bother you?”

“It used to.” He bit his lower lip, and her stomach fluttered. This man was slowly turning all her resolve into mush. “Does it bother you that I’m not?”

“On the contrary. The fact that you’ve managed to survive this long without it is admirable.” She moved closer, the heat in her core rising to her cheeks and neck as she felt him against her. “And as you may recall, I know how important it is to be a threat without bending. You never know when it can be taken away.”

That memory sparked differently now. Sokka over her, too strong and powerful with a fierceness in his eyes that spoke to something deeper. She wouldn’t mind a reenactment.

Sokka agreed. He pushed their bodies closer together, backing her up until her body collided with one of the hanging furs. It felt coarse against her skin, tickling her as Sokka continued to trace his lips against her collarbone. Azula closed her eyes, heady, breath short as his fingers slipped under her tunic and touched her abdomen skin-to-skin. His hands were cold, and she fidgeted back.

“Sorry.” Sokka leaned back for air. His cheekbones were red. “I just thought I’d see our plan through as quickly as possible.”

“We should talk.” Her voice was low, and Sokka kissed her cheek. She leaned up on her toes despite herself. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

“Kill us,” Sokka corrected. He moved to kiss her again but shook his head. “You’re right.”

“You sound surprised?”

Sokka grunted and moved back a piece of her hair. “It’s, uh, it’s just really hard not to touch you.”

Her face was on fire at his words, at the way he looked at her, but Azula pressed herself away from him. As much as she knew she needed to savor these moments, that this was a rare, rare thing, they both needed to survive this. They needed a plan. “Flattering.” Her tone was dull, though she spoke truthfully. Her pride soared at Sokka’s words. “But we should focus.”

“Okay. Okay. No touching.” He backed away fully to allow her to move away from the wall. “At least not until we’re sure the Kemurikage sponsor is captured.”

“Amaruq.” Azula provided. “May as well call him by his name. I remember him briefly from some of my father’s discussions. He wasn’t unimportant to their war effort.”

“He’s barely involved now.”

“Not openly involved.” Azula straightened her tunic. Sokka’s face was still flushed, hair messy. The warrior turned from her and moved closer to the fire to warm his hands. Azula stayed back to watch him. This must have been difficult. The Northern Water Tribe still, in all technicalities, ruled over the South. Any push on Arnook could have severe consequences for Sokka’s home. And a connection to her? She gritted her teeth. She could only imagine the chaos in Sokka’s head.  

“I’m hungry.”

Azula flinched. “Huh?”

“You must be too.” Sokka steadied himself back up and rubbed his stomach. “What do you say we strategize over dinner?”

Sokka’s cooking could barely be called dinner. The “meal” consisted of salted fish, some sort of prune stew, and both varieties of wet and dry seaweed mixed with some sort of jerky. Sokka looked at the meal ravishingly, so excited in his efforts that he almost spilled the purple goo-like stew in Azula’s lap instead of her bowl.

“You shouldn’t have.”

Her sarcasm seemed to go unnoticed as he made himself a plate and sat across from her, the warmth of the fire nearby as they ate. Azula positioned herself comfortably on the white furs on the ground and took a small spoonful. The lumps in her stew were completely unidentifiable, but Sokka looked at her, begging, imploring her to not only try it but to like it.

She had never relied on her ability to lie so much.

It was slimy, salty, but Azula leaned into the warmth the stew created as it crawled down her throat. Any spice beyond salt seemed to be missing from all of the dishes, but she ate it eagerly, her hunger impossible to ignore despite the disgusting nature of her meal.

“I’m glad you like it.” Sokka barely ate, more fascinated—to Azula’s chagrin—with how she was enjoying the food. He slurped more than chewed through the goop of stew. “So, Hahn is…”

“Incredibly guilty.” She sniffed her spoonful. That was a mistake. “Would you like to kill him or should I?”

“Azula…”

“Kidding.” She wasn’t really. “Your reaction before.” She pointed the spoon at Sokka, grabbing his attention. “Not expecting his promotion?”

“No,” Sokka said honestly. “I wasn’t. Hahn had been…he was a real jerk when I first met him.”

She grinned a bit. “Was?”

“He was ambitious, but him as the leader of the Northern Water Tribe?” Sokka scowled. “I don’t see it.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been fully ingrained in politics.” The princess paused, weighing her words carefully. “He’d be the leader of the South too, unless I’m mistaken.” Azula set down her spoon slowly and watched for his reaction, curious. Sokka’s throat bobbed, and he moved a piece of salted fish onto her plate.

“You should eat more.”

“Sokka, don’t ignore me.”

His shoulders rose, tense. “Look, I know the Fire Nation treated its colonies differently, but the South and the North aren’t like that. We’re allies.”

“You must be joking.”

He bristled. “What are you…”

“Why aren’t you angrier about this?” And she wasn’t accusatory. Just…confused. Was his ambition so lax? Could he not see the opportunity presented to him?

“Because I want to believe I can work with them.”

She rested her hands on the table. “Even if it means you’re subservient?”

“We’re not…”

“You are. You practically have to beg this shit nation to share technology and resources with you. Allies…” Azula sniffed. “Where were your allies when we invaded your homeland? When your people went off to war? Do you know how many more men from the South Pole have died? I can recite the body counts.”

Sokka’s eyes turned hard, icy, and Azula almost recoiled. The heat and tension between them shifted, and it stinged of something old and too familiar. “Not everything can be made better through force, Azula.”

“I’m not suggesting force. Just separation. You wish for unification, don’t you? That’s a fantasy. You’ll always be seen as lesser to these people. They’ve owned you for too long.”

“Is that how the Fire Nation feels?” His words bit, tinged with poison in such a way that Azula would have appreciated if they weren’t directed at her.

Yes. But she knew that answer was wrong. That her own opinion had shifted from dismissive to curious to amazed. And though she wanted to fight back, to tell Sokka that the Fire Nation was better, she despised the edge in his face, the curl of his fingers, and the way his body angled away from her.

She needed him closer. She needed him on her side, and her thoughts started to click together.

There was…there was something to allies. There was something to this, to them, that she didn’t want to ruin, and Azula understood why he had held her so preciously. She had been taught the theory of treaty but had never practiced it. There was a nuance and a correctness and a fragility in that dance that echoed through them both now. Something like this—them—was equally tenuous. It was delicate and couldn’t be maintained by sharp wit and a whetstone. But she would try and preserve it.

“Not anymore,” she answered slowly, maintaining eye contact with Sokka though it felt painful. Her pulse throbbed. “Not…not for a while.”

Sokka’s mouth gaped, whatever tension between them melting more than breaking, and he reached across the table to take her hand. “We can work together.”

Did he mean him and Hahn? Or him and her? And she wished, that like a treaty, there was a document that spelled it out. What was she to him? A distraction? That they could both agree on. Sokka distracted her, and she was still trying to quantify whether the result would be positive or negative. Azula gripped him back. “I think you’d be better at it than Hahn.” She rubbed her thumb across his hand. It was calloused, the grip hard from the hilt of a sword. She prickled with the memory of that roughness on her bare neck and shoulders. “Even with your naivety.”

He smirked. “Even with?”

“My opinion of what makes a good leader has changed over time. Surprising, I know.” Azula held on tighter. “I’m beginning to think having a bit of innocence can make a nation love you. That may be better.”

Sokka looked at her, serious, though the corner of his eyes lifted. “Better than what?”

Fear.

Azula hesitated, tapping the table with her free hand. “My prior strategy.”

Sokka’s grin fully enveloped his face. He crawled more than anything around the table and towards her, and Azula felt her heartbeat quicken, the heat and flame in her core move down. His voice was low, conniving. “You think I’d make a good leader.”

“I believe I said better.”

Sokka placed his hands on her knees, and she exhaled deeply. “I know a compliment from you when I hear it. You think I’d be great.”

She gripped his wrists, and Sokka leaned back before edging even closer, nose practically touching her own. It took everything to keep her voice steady. “I think you’d be competent.”

“Careful now. My ego may burst.” He drifted forward and kissed her, dragging her bottom lip down as he moved his tongue between her lips. He tasted like the sea and partially like the dissatisfying meal in front of them, but Azula found herself not quite minding it as much. Instead, she allowed him to explore her mouth carefully, slowly, the only sound being the soft snap between them and the glower of the hearth.

She could lose herself so easily. She could forget that she had been his enemy, been institutionalized, imprisoned, a runaway. Under him (how did she get under?), she felt not like a bender or a princess or a fighter. Just a woman, and even though her head was impetuous and rushed with Sokka, Sokka, Sokka, a part of her never felt clearer.

This could have happened sooner.

She could have done this so, so much better. She could have never betrayed her brother and the Avatar on their mission to find Ursa. She could have been the reformed good girl, could have shown him and everyone that she was better than her fourteen-year-old self, and this would have been cleaner, better, sooner. She could have never hounded them to that Air Temple, never sided with her father, never had manipulated him and her country and she could have also been a hero worthy of him and not…not this.

The fur under her was too warm. It was soft, plush, such a contrast to Sokka’s hard, muscled body, and she tried to fall into it again, to wrap her thoughts with him and not her but it was dark and unbearable, and Azula found herself frozen on the ground.

Sokka’s hands picked at the fray ends of the wrap around her chest, smoothing under her tunic. His heavy breathing was warm against her collarbone. He moved his body up, kneeling over her. “Is this a tell-me-what-to-do moment or a we-should-stop moment?”

She didn’t know. Azula looked at him and saw such uninhibited warmth, such an open display of something she had been craving for so long in his face. And how could she say that it was both? That she needed him to tell her what to do, not now, but for a long time after this. That if they didn’t stop, her mind would force them to eventually. That she hadn’t reconciled them together and was unable to see if she ever could.

Her silence was enough of an answer, seemingly able to say words Azula—in all her supposed eloquence—couldn’t. Sokka removed his hands from her skin, and the need went with him. He rolled so that he was flat on his back, side-by-side with her. The white fur looked even paler against the red flush of his brown skin. “I used to forget a lot too.”

Azula blinked. “Forget?”

“That people…aren’t static. They aren’t like science or math and react the same way every time. Take us.” He turned to his side, and though they were close, centimeters apart, he didn’t move to touch her. “You and me together five years ago would have been…”

“A quick fight?”

Sokka snorted. “I’d like to think I’d last a while, but yeah. And now?”

His eyes seemed incredibly wide. Part of it was the concussion, but underneath it, Azula thought there was something else. Admiration? Desire? She swallowed. “I don’t know what we are now.”

Her honesty made his grin wane, but Sokka touched her shoulder. “I don’t either.”

“That’s bad, isn’t it? Ambiguity.” Azula bit her lip. “How do you know I won’t mess up again?”

A pause.

“Honestly?” Sokka didn’t move his grip away as Azula nodded. “I don’t know what you’re thinking. I don’t know if you’ll change your mind about this. Or about…me.”

She felt small. Azula rolled away from him and dragged her knees closer to her chest. Her voice felt impossibly quiet, chapped, as she spoke. “I don’t want to.”

“That’s good.” He moved closer, the words hitting her neck as he wrapped his arms around her, cradled her against his chest. “That’s enough.”

“How could it be?”

Sokka ran a hand through her hair. His voice was low but firm. “Let me decide that, okay?”

She supposed that was fair. Azula still felt tense, unrelaxing even though his body at her back was begging her to just lean into him. After minutes, Azula finally relented, easing herself against the soft drum, drum of his breathing, the steady, quick pace of his pulse. She felt…safe next to him. Even here, in this foreign land surrounded by ice. She felt home.

It was when the stew was long cold and when the fire started to dull, that Sokka spoke again, “This is new for me too.” He somehow found her hands and laced their fingers together. He held them together at her solar plexus, the pressure tightening her breath even more. “This feels different.”

“Different?”

“I guess it always feels different,” Sokka corrected. “But still, it’s…it’s a little…”

“Terrifying?”

He laughed. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

Azula rested her head against his shoulder and caught a glimpse of his eyes. Her heart clenched. “It could be the assassins trying to kill us.”

Another laugh. She hadn’t realized she enjoyed that noise so much. His nose rubbed against her neck. “Could be.”

Chapter Text

There had been no letters from Sokka. No word of warning or of progress. June had already swung by the Caldera, waving Zuko’s seal like a banner and taking her yuan with no more fanfare than a fisherman selling a fish. Zuko had asked the woman when she had seen Sokka, if she had seen Azula, but she had only shrugged while padding her pockets with money and said, “I got out of there before the lovebirds could meet.”

Lovebirds?

He had pushed it aside. June had made the same strange assessment of him and Katara when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He saw the waterbender a week later, his uncle and the Avatar in tow. Iroh had pulled him immediately into the hug, lifting him easily off the ground despite Zuko’s heavy robes and his uncle’s growing stomach.

“It’s good to see you again too, Uncle.” Zuko smiled despite his embarrassment. Ty Lee was behind him laughing.

“I know I’ve said this before, but the crown looks especially good on your head, Fire Lord Zuko. Shall we go inside?”

“Yes. I already have tea prepared.”

A grin ignited over his face. “You do know how to treat a guest well.”

Aang and Katara slowly followed behind, the enthusiasm and energy from their prior visit seemingly sapped out of both of them. It was especially shocking to see Aang like this, tight and stressed and barely muttering a greeting to him or Suki as they walked back from the gate and into the palace grounds. Zuko shot the Kyoshi Warrior a look but was met with equal confusion.

They all sat around a low-level table with tea. Ty Lee and Suki were dressed casually, makeup off and fans away. Mai dwindled by the doorframe. She had stayed in the palace since Ozai—his father—had died, helping with odds and ends, talking to his mother and Ty Lee. It had been…nice seeing her again. She handled everything with a deftness and a care that eased him, lifted a small weight of responsibility that recently seemed to be burying him. Zuko gestured for her to follow them deeper into the small, casual dining room. This was a common space of their childhood—where the four of them would have lunch or an early dinner—before Ty Lee and Mai were sent home and he and Azula went off to their own torturous devices.

She shook her head and stayed by the door, black bangs as severe as the expression on her face. Zuko swallowed and nodded to his uncle, to Aang, and went to meet her outside in the hallway. Mai slid the thick door shut. “I just had a conversation with Toph.”

Toph was still interviewing palace guards, prisoners, attendants—anyone who could have any idea of who killed Ozai. Still, Zuko hesitated in his question. “What about?”

“My father,” she said it impassively, idly, but Zuko knew the conversation couldn’t be easy. Mai’s father, Ukano, tried to overthrow him.  He led an insurrection against the throne and wanted Ozai crowned again. She was one of the most fervent supporters of him never seeing the light of day again. “I want to talk with him.”

Zuko felt cold, disbelief enveloping him. “You do?”

“I want Toph to,” Mai corrected. “I’ll undoubtedly have to go with her.”

He turned around back to the door. “You don’t need my permission to see your father, Mai. He’s in the Prison Tower, just where we…”

“Why isn’t Sokka here?”

His hand froze on the door. Zuko paused. “He’s busy.”

“With what?”

“I can’t say.”

“With Azula?”

He turned back to face her, but there was still no emotion on her face. Still calm, eyes looking at him curiously for confirmation and not…not angry like he had expected. Why did he feel angry? Why did her dispassion still seem to rile him, still frustrate him to no end?

Zuko had no doubt Mai loved him. Had or did—it didn’t really matter. She had proved it fiercely, time and time again, and he had loved her too. He still did, that would never leave, but… “Why does that matter to you?”

“She’s dangerous,” Mai stated simply. “How do you know he’s still alive?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Mai sniffed and slid the door back open again. His friends were quiet around the table, even Ty Lee had a frown on her face, grey eyes blinking at the Avatar as she examined him. “It’s very dark.” The girl pouted and pulled at her braid. “Aang, you usually have this really, really bright yellow going on, but today it’s all brown and gross.”

The Avatar squirmed in his seat on the floor. “I don’t like secrets.”

Katara elbowed him quickly. “Aang!”

“Secrets?” The pout dissolved from Ty Lee’s face. “Well, maybe it would help if you shared them!”

“I wish Azula were here,” Mai announced from the door. Aang noticeably fidgeted. Mai folded onto her knees next to Ty Lee, able to ignore the sharp, confused look from Suki on her other left.

“Yeah, me too.” Ty Lee exhaled. “Weird, huh? I mean, I wish the old Azula was here. The perfect one.”

Zuko closed the door behind him but didn’t approach, choosing to lean against the wall instead.

The perfect one.

That was how he had always seen her. She had always been better than him—smarter, stronger, controlled. He flexed his hands against the wall. They felt clammy. The only image he could see now of his sister was the one tied down and beaten.

“She could get Aang to tell us his secret.”

“Or at least say something to make everyone less tense!” Ty Lee gestured around the table. “All of us together…I thought this would be a little more fun.”

“Sokka’s not here,” Suki seemed to catch her words after the fact and sat up straighter. “I mean, he…he’s always good at that sort of thing too.” She glanced at Zuko, and unlike Mai, the worry and fear were clear and brazen. And why wouldn’t it be? He couldn’t help but look at Katara, and though it was less obvious than the Kyoshi Warrior, something was on her mind as well. She was probably also rightfully confused on where her brother was, on what sort of task he could possibly be doing that separated him from the rest of his friends.

Guilt overwhelmed him, and Zuko moved towards the table and knelt across from the waterbender and next to his uncle. He bowed his head. “Katara, I should have told you this much sooner, but I sent Sokka out on a similar mission that I had asked of you and Aang.”

Aang huffed air in and out, attempting to hold a cracking smile. It was a little bit scary. Katara moved to grab his hand. “You did what, Zuko?”

“I asked Sokka to find and bring back my sister. I was worried that the threats against my life and Iroh’s would be relevant to her too. That or…or she was…”

“Azula’s coming here?” Ty Lee wondered, eyes wide.

Zuko nodded. “That was…that was my intent. But in truth, I haven’t heard from Sokka in weeks. If he found my sister and if she reverted back to being unstable, I can’t imagine…”

“We saw them!” Aang blurted, covering his mouth immediately after the fact.

Zuko blinked. “You…wait, what?”

Katara groaned next to him and then patted his hand. “It’s okay, Aang. It’s better than everyone thinking my brother is dead.”

“And that my niece killed him,” Iroh added.

Zuko tried to catch his thoughts up with what Aang had said. They had seen them? As in Sokka and Azula? If that was true, then why weren’t they here? “I don’t understand.”

“Do we say more than that?” Aang turned to his girlfriend.

Katara seemed to weigh the question heavily before replying, “I think we should. I know they told us to keep it between us, but it involves Zuko. He deserves to know. Iroh?”

The older man pursed his lips and nodded. Suki’s head fell, knuckles almost white as she gripped the edge of the table, and Zuko knew his must look the same, mind running rabid with the same thoughts. He knew he asked Sokka to do this for him, but he always thought the hardest part would be finding Azula and making sure she didn’t get away. What could possibly be keeping those two from the Caldera? And what were they doing together?

He woke up to the light feel of vibration against his chest, his legs, his groin, and he tugged the body closer, moving himself against her until he nearly panted from the friction. Sokka had been exhausted and not to mention pretty injured. He was worried and stressed, but the sense of relief of Azula against him diluted all of that down until it was nothing but a passing thought. An annoying poke of something that needed to be done but could definitely be done later because this felt too nice.

They both had fallen asleep on the floor, and he wanted to continue doing just that when he realized the movement against him wasn’t intentional or salacious. Azula was cold. The fire in the hearth had long gone out, and she was shivering. Sokka hadn’t properly tended to the flame, and even now, he was hesitant to let go of his grip around her chest. He grunted as he moved, deciding not to be selfish, and went closer to the hearth where pieces of flint lay nearby. He made a spark on the first scratch and fed the small flame with kindle and the covered air from his breath.

The wood cracked sharply as it caught, and Sokka held out his hands to feel the warmth. It hit him suddenly—how ironic it was that where their talents were needed most, firebenders never treaded. He remembered nights when he was a child, Katara would be bent over the fire huddling desperately in its low warmth, him and Gran Gran right behind her. When trade was bad, it was bad, and he would be desperate to find a penguin seal, an oil fish, anything that would give them enough grease to fuel some heat.

Azula’s words echoed through him, and the memories took a jaded edge. Had the North abandoned them? Was the South nothing but a little, failed experiment, a territory lost to raiders and nothing more?

You’re forgetting who the really enemy was.

And the fury so easily came back to him. The shrouded memory of men in black and red armor crashing through the snow, the power of heat and light literally at their fingertips. Sokka looked back at Azula, surprised to see the princess was awake and in lotus. She rubbed her arms up and down, eyes on the fire he built. “Thank you.”

He was…he was allowed to like her, wasn’t he? He was allowed to believe that people could change, that she could change and already had. Sokka juggled the thought in his head, testing it, weighing how many disgusted, disappointed looks would be thrown his way. Would he be able to take it? Arnook was on the losing side of a debate and still held that disapproval. What would Toph say? Gran Gran?

Was it worth it?

Azula stood up and jostled through her pack. She removed her vials, the mortar and pestle, and placed a thicker tunic over her shoulders. “I need more herbs.”

Sokka took a glance at Pakku’s kitchen. “I’ll take a look, but I’ll most likely have to go out and buy some.”

She fidgeted but didn’t argue. It was a necessary risk. Azula closed her eyes, exhaling. “If you could bring home some proper food, I won’t complain either.”

“Proper food?” He felt a tug on his chest. “Are you implying that last night wasn’t proper?”

Azula opened an eye and scanned him. Something must have caught her interest since she quickly went out of her meditative posture, both eyes opened and stalking towards him. Sokka stood his ground. He felt the heat of the fire trickle against his back, the coarse flick of furs under his hand. He felt like he was being hunted. He sort of liked it.

“In some ways, it was too proper.” She knelt in front of him, gold eyes pure liquid from the orange light next to them. “Something’s been on my mind.”

He played with a loose part of her hair. It had grown a bit, bangs now licking the end of her jawline. It was drier in the cold, but he didn’t mind. “Is that a first?”

Her eyes widened, surprised by the banter though she really shouldn’t be. Maybe it was something she would normally say to him, and Sokka found himself smiling before leaning in to kiss her chastely on the lips. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I think it’ll help me with some of this…ambiguity.” She licked her lips as if she wanted to retaste him. His chest swelled. “Can you tell me more about the South Pole?”

“It’s not too different than here.” Sokka rubbed her arms. “I’d be happy to show you…”

Azula shook her head. “I don’t mean like that. I mean…as it pertains to this.” She frowned, obviously seeing that he wasn’t understanding, and straightened across from him. “To be honest, I haven’t learned much about your more…cultural traditions. Military and geography, yes. But not nearly as much as the North Pole or the Earth Kingdom, and I have to think that much of my schooling was a bit biased.”

“You mean propaganda.” Sokka titled his head to the side. “You want me to explain what was propaganda?”

“No…well, maybe one day, but that’s not entirely helpful to me now. Fine, an example.” She swallowed. “I am often told the Fire Nation is considered more liberal when it comes to intimate relations because of our relatively easy access to family planning tools.” She looked flushed. It was if Azula was reading a schematics diagram, but her face was adorably colored in a pink, warm glow.

Sokka sorted through her words, her embarrassment. His throat felt insanely dry and he suddenly wished Pakku kept some sort of liquor in his kitchen. “So, you mean sex?”

Her eyes flashed down. “Of course, it’s different for me. As a member of the Royal Family, I could never…well, even if I had the opportunity, it would be incredibly frowned upon for me to just…just do that. Family planning matters aside, if something were to happen, it could completely upheave the line of succession and…”

“It’s more like that in the South.” Sokka couldn’t hold back his smile at her rambling. He decided to move a little away from her, hands relaxing to her side, if only to make her less nervous. She tugged at her lip, and Sokka stood to get himself a glass of ice water. She followed him slowly, eyes fixed on him as if she were trying to solve some sort of puzzle. Sokka didn’t mind the attention, and he stretched his back after taking a long sip from the stone cup. “Family is everything to us, and I don’t mean just like my sister or dad. The entire tribe is a family and looks out for each other. Resources are scarce, and you always have to consider what’s best for the tribe. Will my actions result in another mouth to feed and if they do, who’s food am I taking away? Am I stopping someone else from having a child?” Sokka poured Azula a cup and offered it to her. She set it down, apparently not thirsty, and her body looked stiff, as if she were controlling every millimeter of skin.

Is there something she wants to hear? Sokka debated what to say, though that shouldn’t matter. He should, at the end of it all, just be honest. “At least, that’s what I was told. I didn’t really have a…bounty of options growing up, you know. It didn’t really come up for me either.” He gave what he hoped to be a playful shrug. “What with the war and all.”

“So, it was not common?”

“Yeah, and that’s actually becoming sort of a problem. We need to just have more people and with limited immigration and a more cautious mindset, well, you see?”

 “Cautious.” She said it slowly, sucking in air after and finally taking a sip from her cup. “I think I understand now.”

You do?

Oh.

Of course, she did. Of course, she was trying to read through his actions, of his hands on her hips and chest and lower back, wanting to see if it meant it was closer to everything or nothing. Sokka tried to hold her eye contact, his own mind swimming. What was it closer to? Personal history would say everything. He was all-in for most everything in his life, and he would never doubt Azula would be the same. She was, if anything, committed, and it was an easy stretch to imagine that was true in all aspects of her life.

Can you commit to this? To her? The answer was grey, made his stomach churn and ache because, frankly, he didn’t know. He suddenly felt guilty for kissing her.

“You’re nervous.”

Her voice shot through him, and Sokka jolted out of his own thoughts. Azula’s own nervousness seemed to dissolve, satisfied enough with their conversation though Sokka couldn’t see how. “Azula…”

“Don’t be.” She waved him off. “I can understand if you’d regret…”

“I don’t.” It was knee-jerk but true.

She raised an eyebrow, mask of confidence wavering just a bit. “Even so, if you decide to…”

He moved closer to her. “Azula, don’t…”

“If you decide you no longer wish to pursue anything with me, I understand.” Her voice was flat, almost expectant. “But you have to see where I’m coming from as well. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

And it was small, the hitch in her voice, the break in eye contact. It was tiny, opaque, but it felt glaring to Sokka, stark and bright.

Azula was scared.

The princess tightly gripped her cup of water. “Soka, I know and I agree. We don’t have to define anything.”

“We really don’t,” Sokka said softly.

“But I like knowing what I’m dealing with. I want to understand…”

“You’re a tactician, Azula. Me too. I get it.” He did. Sokka took the cup from her hand to hold her. She didn’t bend into his grip, and his chest felt tight. “It’s hard to plan for something when you don’t have an end goal. And this…this isn’t like that. There’s no reward for doing this right or fast or better.”

Her mouth lifted. “There should be.”

“Well, maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.” His fingers rubbed her knuckles as she leaned into him. “And I…I won’t hurt you.” Sokka breathed hard, pulled her against his chest. She looked small in comparison, pale and cold. He remembered her shivering against him, of her protecting him, killing for him, and he kissed the top of her hair. The least he could do was be honest with her.

Azula looked up to him, and he expected her to look happy, soothed by his words, but her face was crestfallen. Horror shot through his own body as he recognized the warning bell of fear taking over her entire face. Sokka took a step back. “Azula?”

“The walls are melting.”

He spun around, adrenaline humming through his ears high pitched and overriding any semblance of content he felt moments before. The ice walls were sweating, and a thin sheet of ice water started to lap at their feet, soaking his socks. His immediate reaction was to look at the fire, but it was low, concealed, and in no way powerful enough for that reaction. The princess was two steps ahead of him. Azula ran towards their bags, throwing Sokka his coat and boots as she packed. “Hurry up!”

But it was already too late.

The water, melted and fluid, spiraled up and around entangling every inch of Azula’s skin until it froze and dragged her flush against the walls. The bending scrolls fell with a clatter at the sudden motion, ink bleeding into a blurred mess of black and grey. Sokka fumbled to put on his boots and ran towards his boomerang and sword, muscle memory and instinct taking over.

Azula was paralyzed, stuck, and suffocating between layers and layers of jagged ice, and Sokka refused to look at her. He kept his body focused. He couldn’t let the fear and worry for her take over. It would blind him, and he knew he could do nothing to stop the ice, not without taking out the bender himself.

He forewent his jacket as he crashed through more than opened the front door. The dark of night persisted long into the morning, and the pathways and waterways were left empty besides the wind and flurry of snow. Sokka cursed as his bare skin hit the air but pushed it aside as he saw the hooded, masked figure moving deftly on the outer wall of the house. He was on the far side, hooded and masked, and completely involved in his motions, on his sightline through the small window and Azula’s crumbling body inside. Sokka edged to the side, back flushed against the hard wall. The bender was most likely targeting Azula, and Sokka’s escape, luckily, had gone unnoticed.

The waterbender danced more than moved, stance narrow, and Sokka could see the dips and divots form on the exterior walls as he leeched more and more water. Sokka fell into a wide stance. The cold metal of the boomerang was light in his hand. This would be easy. Just aim and flick and…

He felt a sharp pain at the back of his left palm. Sokka flinched, pulling up his hand to see the bright rush of blood flow out, a metal stiletto still embedded in his skin. Shit. He tossed the weapon aside, blood stark against the snow, and quickly dipped as another stiletto careened towards his head.

There are two of them.

He should have known. One bender was clearly not enough to kill them—why wouldn’t they send more? How many people are involved with this? Sokka didn’t allow himself to dwindle on the thought for too long. There was no way for him to know and it would do nothing to help him now.

His attention would have been better spent going after the assassin attacking him, but he didn’t know how much longer Azula had. He didn’t know if she was already blue against the wall, dying, and he aimed the boomerang again, the weapon lifting off his hand as soon as the dagger made contact with his cheek.

Sokka felt the sharp burn of a chemically treated blade, and he fell forward, fingers scratching at his cheek as he looked to the wall and his boomerang making direct contact with the waterbender’s head. The impact was immediate, the stance broken, and Sokka could only hope it was quick enough for Azula. That she could break free. That she was okay and not dead. The gravel and snow scraped at his side as he squirmed on the ground, face on fire. A rough kick met his chest, and Sokka bit back the pain. His sword was still on his back. He could still reach and grab it, stop the man beating him down, but another kick collided with his shoulder, his neck, and the clear song of metal being drawn cried out.

He would just have to dodge. He would have to twist at the right moment, damn the sheer fire of his cheek, and sheath his sword. He could do it. It was just about timing, just about concentration, but how could he concentrate on him when he left Azula strangled against the wall?

 He missed the opportunity, the hint of movement in the snow. The heavy dagger was up and ready aimed over his chest. He flinched for the impact and was met with only a loud crack and the splatter of blood across his neck and face.

The robed figure fell to the ground, mask fallen and cracked and colored red in the starlight. The bone club was still attached to his temple, and Sokka looked at his assasin’s eyes. Gold and empty and dead.

“You okay?”

Sokka scrambled back onto his hands and held snow up to the cut on his face. His mind was still shellshocked, still processing the sudden attack. Azula so easily taken down. How did they know where to find them? If they had come an hour earlier…

“Sokka.”

His name thrusted him back to the present, at offered gloved hand. He glanced up at the man in front of him and nearly doubled over. “Hahn?”

“I came to apologize.” Hahn’s eyes darted to the dead body on the ground before peering up to the fallen waterbender. He fastened his hood over his face. “And to make sure you were okay.”

Apologize? His brain couldn’t even go back far enough to come up with why. “Azula…I need to…”

“You and Princess Azula need to get out of here. I’ll take care of this.” Hahn bent down and cupped a handful of snow. He patted it against Sokka’s face, and the relief was immediate. “Keep ice on it. It shouldn’t scar.”

He felt dizzy. Sokka rubbed at his temple and took a step forward, boot sticking to the blood puddling at his feet. The adrenaline was cooling inside him, and he could start to think again, to piece together wat was going on. He itched to run into the house, but instead went forward to grab his boomerang meters away from the other attacker’s body. He didn’t have the patience to see if he was still breathing. “The waterbender may still be alive. He should be questioned.”

“I’ll handle it.” Hahn held a hand across his chest, head entirely too low considering their ranks and what the man had just done for him. Sokka looked at him, confused, until the tradition sparked in his memory. It was an old sign, one of respect, of loyalty. A sign only offered to a chief. Sokka nodded gratefully, heart still hammering as Hahn said, “I’ll send the air bison to find you. Go north and don’t go too far.”

Just get out. Those were the words Hahn wanted to say but didn’t. Azula and him needed to get out of the capital and risk the barren tundra. It was, somehow, safer that way.

He didn’t waste time saying anything else. Sokka rushed back into the house, ancient scrolls now flooded and damp, the fire drowned out. His eyes cut through the mess, all of it unimportant until he saw her. Azula was on her hands and knees, gasping for breath, shivering and wet. Her black bangs stuck against her face, and she sounded like she was trembling, almost crying. This is too much. He had lost count on how many times her life had been threatened, how many times she had been hurt, and now what he was asking her to do…

She’ll die out there.

 He had to warm her quickly. Sokka ran up to her, abdomen straining and bruised, and knelt in front of her. He peeled off her tunic, her pants, and pressed her against him, burying her close to his chest as he led her to the bedroom and Pakku’s abandoned wardrobe.

Her muscles were still frenetic, still doing everything and anything to warm themselves.

“I’m tired of being cold.” She nudged against, nose scratching under his collarbone. Her lips took on a hint of blue, and Sokka bent down to kiss her deeply, the shock of her icy skin hitting him squarely in the chest.

“You need to use your chi. Concentrate.” He ran a hand through her hair and placed the new, dry clothes over her head. Pakku was smaller than him, and it seemed to fit her better, but he layered and layered two more tunics on top of her before letting Azula go back to the main living space and grab her parka.

She watched him tie her parka together. “We have to leave.”

“I know.”

“But where can we...” She stopped herself as she approached him and grabbed his jaw with her hand. “Fuck.”

He shuddered at the curse, at her eyes on the blood on his face. “Worried they ruined my pretty face?”

“They could have killed you.” Her own neck was nearly purple, small thin cuts on her wrists from the edges of too sharp ice. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“I’m okay.” He kissed her again, and her reluctance peeled away into something hurried and forceful. The ice of her lips was gone, replaced with pure fire and power, and Sokka nearly flinched at the surprise of it all. Of her unbridled and worried. She broke away, pained, and kissed his other cheek, trailing her nails against the outer edge of his cut. Sokka smiled the sudden show of tenderness. “Azula, we’re okay. Don’t be worried.”

“I’m angry.” And he could almost feel the rush of static in the air. Azula grabbed her pack and blankets. She stuffed dried fish and jerky into her bag, and Sokka grabbed waterskins, the bedrolls, flint and bottles of oil. The ledgers would have to be left behind, though he was anxious to bring them along.

I have to trust Hahn.

But could he? He had saved his life, but Azula would point out the well-timed apology, the fact that he knew where to find them. She would say that this could be another trap, that he was trying to drag Sokka and Azula out of the city where they could be killed without witnesses and with the excuse of exposure.

We can’t stay here. He pulled the hood over his head and helped Azula with her own. Her own chi made her body feel almost feverish, and it hummed against him, soothing, a reminder that they were better than this. They could survive this.

“They had so many opportunities to kill me.” Azula eyed his cut, the bruises on his temple. “By the time I’m through, they’ll wish I’d grant them the favor.”

He wouldn’t try to dissuade her. Yes, he still believed violence wasn’t always the answer. But sometimes? Sometimes it was.

Chapter Text

It was when they left the city limits—the landscape drenched in black and white and wind—that she realized she would, quite literally, follow Sokka to the ends of the earth. Her faith in him was stunning, unbidden, but she held his gloved hand as if it were an anchor, tying down her more potent thoughts.

It’s been too long.

She needed her vial. Her supply for herbs was dangerously low and it was neither the time nor the environment to start casually making potions. Her throat was raw and sore, and she could still smell her own blood, Sokka’s blood, and her grip on him tensed.

He’ll die because of me.

The longer they were together…the longer they searched and searched for the source of this madness meant the longer he would be hunted with her. She should run away. She should distance herself from him and cut all ties. Hide. Alone. Far. He would be safe.

And then what? The thought cut like a dagger.

She knew the North Pole well enough to know there was nothing outside the capital city. The Northern Water Tribe had bottled all their resources together with only a few settlements scattered for trade. But all of those settlements were south. Sokka was dragging her more and more north, so much so that she worried the sun would never rise.

The ground was not snowy or soft but thick, solid ice. She edged carefully behind him, grateful for the treaded boots and the easy buzz of her chi keeping her warm. Azula felt Sokka’s temperature dip lower. His body shielded her from most of the wind as they trekked, and though she couldn’t see any break of skin, she could still picture the slice on his cheek and the splatter of blood on his face and neck.

You were so close, weren’t you? It was all she could think about when she was buried in ice. She knew immediately what he was trying to do, the risk he had taken rushing out so brashly. And she hadn’t been there. Azula should have given him more credit. He was a warrior, a fighter, and perfectly capable of protecting himself. She knew that well, but if he had…if he had died and she had done nothing?

She almost slipped at the thought. Sokka turned quickly, the concern evident in his voice though she couldn’t see his face. “You okay?”

No. She wasn’t, but there was nothing he could do. Her thoughts were starting to unravel, bend and run into darker, shaded parts of her mind. She needed to flush it out. “How much further?”

His body stiffened at her question. There was nothing here. Sokka was leading them to safety but leading them to nothing. She understood that. She lost concept of time as they trudged through darkness and all-white. Everything here looked the same. Every step and path and trail led to more and more ice.

“We’re far enough away from the city. We can use that.” His hand shook as he pointed forward. She could make out a low rift of hardened snow, piled up from the force of wind. “It’ll take me a while to do by myself…”

He untied the upper collar of his parka so she can see his face under the fur-lined hood. His brown skin was paler in the cold, lips shaded grey, and she removed a glove, flinching at first from the air before touching his cheek. He exhaled sharply at the contact, the sudden rush of body heat. He felt like the ground—too frozen and hard. Azula covered her hand again as he pushed her away. “Let me help you.”

It was gratifying to see the surprise on his covered face, the cold and anxiety start to run from his shoulders and eyes as he explained what they needed to do. He seemed to relish in things that took both force and thought, and Azula listened carefully. They needed to cut blocks from the snow. Large and rectangular at first, but then slowly more angled. Sokka cut the first one with a knife in his pocket, and Azula warmed the metal to make the motion quick and smooth. She was off on her own then, cutting the snow with an ignited finger into perfect edges, bricks of snow piling and piling while Sokka maneuvered them into a round base. Azula watched him as she cut. Fingers tapping his chin. The slight tilt of his head, dark brown hair dripping from his hood as he moved faster and faster. The bricks were starting to spiral, leaning in such a way that the structure started to dome.

Sokka carefully crawled into the small, tunneled entrance he made and started to complete the outer walls from the inside. “A waterbender could do this in seconds, but this way is the most traditional.” The wind had died down and she could hear his voice easily as she handed him more snow. “Let’s pile the bricks in the middle before I keep going. I have to build the roof.”

“You traditionally have a firebender on hand as well?”

Sokka leaned his elbows on the outer wall. “Just a beautiful woman for motivation.”

Her cheeks went warm. “Shut up.”

“It does awaken something primal.” He held a fist to his chest, awkward with fake pride and a relaxed pose. “I must provide you shelter. Next, I will bring you home a fully grown polar bear dog.”

Azula dismissed the show with a flick of her hand. “You’ve already hunted for me.”

“You’ve killed for me.” His voice dropped lower, heavy and thick in his throat, and he crawled back out and to a standing posture. Any sort of joke was gone in the wind.

That was nothing to bring up. That was something she had to do, plain and simple. It wasn’t worth any credit. Azula pushed a snow block into his hand. “You’ve done the same.”

“I…I know.” Sokka smoothed one of the bricks absently with his glove. “We shouldn’t have to.” His face twisted, pained but strangely like he wanted to kiss her again. “I don’t want to. I would, but…Azula, I don’t want you to be in this situation again.”

There was more there. Sokka was terribly open, and the mixture of guilt and shame and protection burned off him stronger than her own chi. She continued to pile the blocks over the small wall and pointed at him to follow. “Get back inside. I still need convincing that an ice house can keep us warm.”

It did keep them warm. Sokka had patted the outer, dome structure with softer snow, covering all the cracks, the ice and sheer power of the air turning it into a thick sheet. They were encased in white, almost blue from the thickness, and Sokka pulled through their packs from the small hole of a door.

The house was small. They were almost elbow-to-elbow, and Azula stayed on her knees to give Sokka more space to unroll the blankets. He removed a small, stone bowl and dug a shallow hole in the back of the house so it wouldn’t tip. He then removed a thick piece of meat wrapped carefully in cloth and started trimming the fat with his jian. The motion was clumsy given the space, but soon, Sokka had smaller cuts of fat placed in the bowl. “It’s all you, princess.”

It took her a moment to understand, but she soon let a small, blue flame fall into the bowl. The animal fat ignited and burned, and though it did not offer too much warmth, it was light and the opportunity for a warm meal. Sokka sliced the rest of the meat thinly and cooked the pieces on the edge of the hot bowl. Azula, anxious to eat, released another flume of fire to cook the meat faster.

Sokka blinked. “I never thought about that. I could use you as a grill.”

“Charming as ever.” She handed him a piece of meat and watched her blue flame die to a soft orange. It was cold, and though it seemed to cool her thoughts, Azula still twitched, unsteady. She could meditate, but that would only get her so far. Without the full strength of her vial, she would hear voices. See faces. She rubbed at her temple. “How long are we supposed to hide here?”

“I’d think you’d want to stay hidden.” Sokka removed the hood from his face, and he was, even frozen, fantastic to look at. The red of his lips started to color again, and she could see the chill burn on his nose, the high bone of his cheeks. His hair was speckled with white ice, already starting to melt and drip from the soft heat of the fire. The cut was harsh to look at, enflamed, and she only had to move her shoulder to be facing him head on. Sokka was looking at her, not the flames or their food or his quick, architectural feat. He pushed her hood back with a brush of his fingers. His breath was cold, a cloud of white as he spoke, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

It was a command, and the demanding nature of his question burned something wild in her. The gnawing thoughts, pinpricks of doubt and despair, seemed to halt, and he curved those fingers under her chin, ice against her naturally warm skin.

They were allies. They were partners. They were—maybe—something else though neither of them could define it. Girlfriend? Boyfriend? The words felt childish to her, innocent. She didn’t think she could call him that, even if he asked her, but she could answer this. “I’m afraid.”

The glint in Sokka’s eyes told her that none of this was surprising. He already had guessed that much, and Azula thought she would feel ashamed or mad instead and was relieved when she didn’t. His hands delicately touched her neck, examining and fumbling across the deeper knicks of hard ice. It didn’t hurt, or if it did other things occupied her mind more so. He could have teased her about it though, and she half expected him to when he leaned forward and moved his hands to her thighs. “What are you afraid of?”

“My mind.” Azula swallowed and broke eye contact, looking instead to his now ungloved hands, the dried skin, the unkempt nails. Maybe it would help if she saw his imperfections, his physical breaks of skin, to talk about her own. “Without my vial, I’m…not myself.”

He nudged her chin up. She was forced to stare at him, but his eyes were too blue, too soft and it made her nervous. “What happens?”

“I break apart.” Azula tried to keep her voice smooth and even, and she had no doubt it was successful. Vulnerability was never her strong suit, never something she wanted to be strong in. She did not want Sokka to look at her, pity her, think her weak and frail and gentle. That was not who she was, who she wanted to be, and she would think less of him for it.

There was none of that on Sokka’s face. Curiosity was the dominating feature, that and the familiar, brazen strain of ambition. His eyes were soft, yes, and there was no doubt he wanted to help her, but it wasn’t because of pity. It wasn’t because she was broken but because he knew what she could be like whole.

Her heart felt similarly anchored, weighted, as she stared at him. She had described her symptoms in detail once before, but it didn’t make it easier. “I…hear things. Mostly Ursa. Sometimes Zuko or my father. I see them sometimes too. They’re…like afterimages. It’s like my brain is trying to catch them, like I’m chasing a ghost.” She sighed, settled into her speech as Sokka just continued to look at her. “I’m better though, well at least from what I was. Even without the vials and meditation, it’s not as…”

“Potent?”

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it.” Azula lowered her head, shocked at the sudden tug on her back, the press of his hand on her neck that dragged her against his body. He was wet with melted ice and colder than she was, but still she buried herself against him, closed her eyes, tried to sift and push back dark thoughts and focus on him and his body and scent and eyes.

“Can I help?”

The question lingered. Saying no would be deflating, but true. She needed medicine and calm and a healer for any sustainable remedy, but he dug his arms around her, powerful and determined. Sokka pressed his mouth against her ear. “Tell me what to do.”

Her same words echoed back, and now she was embarrassed. Flushed and heated, Azula turned to face him, impossible not to touch given the size of the makeshift house. And perhaps it was the lapse in medicine or their proximity or the fact that she was so, so tired of fighting for her life, but she turned to him, hedonism flagrant and overwhelming, and sat hard and full in his lap. “Distract me.”

Sokka wanted to refuse. She saw his mouth fall flat, the determination in his eyes falter and flicker as he tried to read past her words. Is that okay? He didn’t directly ask her, only touched her hair slowly, curving his hand behind her back and pulling her flushed to his chest. He kissed her. It was soft, lips pulsing as he turned his head to better the angle. Azula touched the back of his neck, fingers tracing his hairline, pushing at the hard ripples of his spine. Sokka moved back, upper lip still wet against her own. “Just a little.” He swallowed. “Just enough.”

“Enough?”

“Not here.” He shook his head and kissed her again, his own need growing obvious in his speed and pants. Sokka’s blue eyes caught her, and they were serious behind the heat. “It’d be your first time. And I don’t have anything to…” He touched her cheek. “I want to do it right.”

She didn’t fully understand that, but she trusted him. She didn’t think she ever had, ever could trust anyone as much, and she took him again, trapping his lips against hers with a quickness that was partially desperation and partially just pure want.

And Azula was not for wanting. She knew what it was like to desire something, though never someone, to do everything and anything it took to get it. And she wanted Sokka. It was different than her hunger for the throne, but in some ways all too similar. She wanted him to think her better, think her powerful, approve of her.

The room was still too cold, and she hesitated to unbutton his parka besides the upper toggles by his neck. Sokka looked at her fingers, flushed with pride. “Finally got a hang of that too?”

“Not my quickest study.” She trailed her fingers against his collar bone. He was still cold, and he flinched at the contact of her skin, hers undoubtedly hot and sweltering in comparison. She kissed him on the cheek, the mouth, the neck. He bristled under her, hips arching at the contact. Azula smiled against him and leaned back. “But I always learn.”

“I prefer Fire Nation clothes.”

She was shocked by that, though she didn’t disagree. She stayed crooked into his neck, Sokka’s skin tasting like salt and sweat, dipping lower to the small reveal of his chest to avoid the dried bits of foreign blood.

Azula scowled at the reminder but tried to refocus on the shortening sounds of Sokka’s breathing. She nipped at a piece of skin, and Sokka squirmed before grabbing her cheeks and pulling her up to face him. His cheeks were red, eyes hazed. “I thought I was supposed to distract you.”

“You are.” Azula glanced at his chest, the spot she was dragged from hinting of red. “Why do you prefer Fire Nation clothes?”

“Easier to move in. Fabric’s smooth.” He touched her collar, flicked the enclosure. “Gives me a better view.”

Azula wrapped her arms around his neck. “I doubt you had these feelings for me then.”

“Oh, I always thought you were pretty. I didn’t like you, but you were pretty. Though when we go back, maybe you could try something less…authoritarian?”

She rubbed the spot of her bite, sinking deeper into his lap. He throbbed against her, barely composed, and she knew this must be torturous. Sokka didn’t seem to mind, and Azula hesitated before dragging a hard nail under the edge of his cut. “You’re telling me you don’t like it?”

His breathing and hands suggested otherwise. Sokka’s chest was tight, holding in air for so long and huffing choked streams against her hands and face. She felt his hands start to wander, to dig and pull at her coat to try and rub her body underneath the heavy layers. Azula leaned to bite his neck again, but Sokka intercepted her, moving her chin with his fingers so that he could kiss her. Now he was desperate and all need. He was all warmth and stimuli, and she felt the dark thoughts scatter, her body tense and relax as he unbuttoned her parka and slipped it from her shoulders. Sokka rubbed her arms, face thoughtful. “A normal person would be freezing.”

“I can concentrate on heating my body.” She could, though barely. “And you’re doing fine work of it yourself.”

“Fine work?” Sokka sniffed in mock insult, and then his face turned hungry, wolfish. He pushed her from his lap so she fell flat on her back, knees bent at the waist. She shivered at the impact, despite falling on the overlapping bedrolls, and of the view of him pinning her, over her. He was still bruised, cut, partially concussed, but Azula could see what could only be described as a threat in his face.

She swallowed, though his fierceness only seemed to send a buzz between her thighs. “What are you planning to do?”

“Not here,” Sokka repeated. He pulled up her tunic, layer after layer, and despite her chi, Azula could still feel the bitter shock of cold nip her naked skin. Sokka pulled at the ends of the wrappings covering her chest, and she blushed with embarrassment, of being under him and almost-naked, her craving evident from her breasts. His legs loosened around her, shoulders sinking, and Sokka moved his hands softly up and down her bare torso, lips curving to kiss her gently on the cheek. “I…” Sokka kissed the other side then her mouth. All of them were quick, like the gentle fleck of summer rain. “I want to tell you you’re beautiful.”

She was even more embarrassed now because no one had ever dared to tell her something like that. People had looked at her with want before, with yearning, but it was always as an object, a tool. It was nothing like this.

And she thought she owed him the same, though the exact words failed to come to her. Azula placed her hands on his cheeks, elbow bending awkwardly. They were too close for this type of contact, but she wanted to hold him. “I think you’re beautiful too.”

His grin was child-like, almost goofy, but Azula loved it and loved the way it brightened his whole face, made him spark and laugh so much she could feel the vibrato from his throat. Sokka fell serious again and carved his hands over her breasts. She was small, nothing spectacular, but he seemed to relish in the feel of her, calloused fingers rubbing hard against her pale skin, pinching at the darker buds so that they stood even more erect. He kissed down her sternum, tongue outlining the round curve of her, and she wondered, between the flurry of thoughts, if she also tasted like salt and sweat. If he could somehow feel her burning, taste the absolute need for him because it seemed to just pour.  

She huffed, panted at the feelings he was pulling from her, mind going past distraction and tunneled to just him and lips and fingers. Sokka moved his left hand up and down her stomach as he bent and pulled her right breast into his mouth. She exhaled, and it was vocal, high-pitched, and unbidden. Sokka looked up at her and licked, eyes teasing. “Was that fine?”

Azula could only nod and push his head back down, guide his right hand up so that it rested on her other breast. Sokka took the note spectacularly and squeezed her, coaxed her as he pulled her to a tiny peak. He changed sides; the saliva left on her breast went cold at his mouth’s absence, but it was soon replaced hungrily with his other hand. She maneuvered hers back into his hair, holding the loose ends back and pushing him towards her. She was greedy. She wanted him. She told him as much.

Sokka pulled back from her, and he looked aching. Even through the many layers, his hips were tight but ready to move, and Azula rested on her elbows and reached for him. Sokka moved away. “I want you too.”

She was used to getting what she wanted, and she hoped she could convince him, could feel him fully, but Sokka looked recalcitrant. “But not here,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around her bare chest.

Sokka nodded and touched her shoulders. He placed a hard kiss on her mouth and leaned back. “Excuse me for a second.”

Azula watched him suddenly crawl out the short tunnel, her heaving and flushed all the way to her forehead. She was confused and was about to reapply her wrappings when Sokka came back in looking calmer and more settled. He raised an eyebrow at the wraps in her hand and grabbed her wrist. “I didn’t say we were done.”

It was somehow her worst and best sleep. The bedrolls were thin, and she could feel the hardness of ice every time she moved, the uneven ridges hit her back. The full adrenaline from the night before was gone, and her neck ached with a new soreness, and all-in-all, she was physically terrible. But Sokka was against her. He held her closely, tightly wrapped around her as her chi ebbed away in her sleep. He was warm and alive and beside her, hands resting precariously low on her waist, nose muffled under her black hair. She sighed as he moved away, tended to the fire quickly, and pulled her close so that she hit his chest with a thump.

“Sorry I woke you.” His voice was still sleepy, still coated with dreams.

Azula shook her head but said nothing. As far as she was concerned, he never had to apologize for anything ever again.

They slept most of the morning and afternoon, exhaustion finally reaching a boiling point in both their bodies. Sokka finally got up fully when his stomach grumbled and proclaimed it was a good time to go ice fishing.

It was a bad time to go ice fishing, mostly because he had nothing to fish with, but Sokka left anyway, leaving her to tend the fire and melt more ice for water. She nibbled at the jerky, no longer minding the taste, and rolled herself in both of their blankets.

I could die here.

Azula stiffened, but the thought wasn’t dark. She could…she could die here. She could live like this for years. Do this forever and maybe her ambition would be finally satiated. Maybe his would be enough.

She almost dozed off again when Sokka crawled back with, unsurprisingly, no fish in tow. He shook her lightly on the shoulder, and his hood was still up, gloves still on. “Azula? Are you ready?”

She wanted to say no and ask if she could stay. If they could stay for this place would be nothing without him, surely. She knew that. But Sokka looked already packed, already anxious, and she knew that despite all her skills at negotiation, that request was untenable.

Appa was outside, looking more like a hill with horns and a nose in the white of the North. The stars were fully out in the sky, speckled like the remaining bits of lava in a dying volcano. “I’m glad we can trust Hahn.” Sokka threw their packs onto Appa’s saddle and helped Azula up. She swayed, still uncomfortable with the beast, but said nothing. She had pushed away what had happened, forgot what they were doing, but the reminder was stark as Sokka grabbed the reins and urged the air bison to fly with two words.

Azula didn’t bother to ask where they were going and braved herself to look down to the small ice house deteriorating as they climbed higher and higher in the air. She’d have to hold on to this. Memorize it. Embed it into her spirit because she knew where they were going.

Back to the Fire Nation.

Back to Zuko.

Chapter Text

They stopped when the ice and snow turned back to grass, the dark and cold of the North far behind them. He watched as Azula carefully stepped down from Appa’s back, unhooking the now too-warm parka, hair all fly-aways and unkempt. Sokka dragged her close and hugged her body against him before kissing her messy hair. “You’re okay?”

A loaded question if he could ask one. They had barely spoken while on the air bison, uncomfortable and shell-shocked. Or at least he was. He still couldn’t sort himself out. What they were doing. Who was attacking them. If he could trust Hahn and keep her safe and what would his family and friends even think of all this.

It was a lot. It unsettled him, weakened him. Sokka felt himself lean too hard on Azula’s body and the princess tipped her head. “Are you?”

No. But he couldn’t say that, not when she was…she needed him. He had to be sure and certain and strong about this, all of this, and he nodded and said he was fine.

Azula must have sensed he was lying. Her lips pursed, golden eyes sharp as they often were when searching for a crack, a weakness. His was blatant, and she called it out easily. “I don’t intend to share our relationship with anyone either.”

He exhaled, shocked to see it didn’t immediately form a puff of white cloud. They were more south than he thought. “It’s for the best.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t want you to think…”

“I don’t,” she interrupted. “But like I said, you’re free to stop this whenever you want. I am…I am too. I just agree that it would be better that my brother doesn’t think I seduced you to do my bidding.”

Sokka sniffed. “Didn’t you though?”

Azula smiled, coy and small, and moved away from him. “I trust you can setup camp by yourself. I need to meditate.”

The princess was doing that more and more often, and Sokka supposed it was a substitute for her medicine. He scanned the area quickly, but besides low grass and a few thin trees, there was nothing that could possibly substitute the specific herbs she needed. I want to help her. That was obvious. He wanted to do everything he could to help her be okay, and though he wasn’t ready to show his actual feelings to Zuko or Katara, he would fight to make sure she didn’t end up in a cell again.

They’ll still think I’m crazy.

But fine. So be it. That was a consequence he was ready to take on, that he needed to. She didn’t deserve any less. He set up a makeshift hearth for the fire and pulled dry grass and a few thin twigs for kindling. Appa was the only calm one amongst them, the bison almost never frazzled, and after rolling out their bed rolls and removing his sword and boomerang, he collapsed against the white fur, digging his head into Appa's warm coat.

He was making the right call. They needed to go back. Rationally, he knew that. He had probably known for a while that they couldn’t do this alone. But he was still resistant to the idea, feel pulled and tugged away from the Fire Nation or Republic City or even the South Pole because those were all, suddenly, too much like home, too much like his real life.

And though he would never complain about his life, especially in front of Azula, he had really, really missed something like this. One purpose. Common goal. Clear-cut, bad enemy. And yeah, he’d prefer if they weren’t constantly attacked, if his and Azula’s lives weren't in danger, but the direct sense of doing something good was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while. Politics were muddy. There was no right answer, no clear winner or side to fight for. He was exhausted and ragged here, but if he were being honest with himself, it wasn’t so different than how he felt before, running around doing work for the South Pole, the Fire Nation, and Republic City.

And going back would mean he'd have to... he didn't want to hide what he felt for Azula. 

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Azula, hair still a mess but shoulders and body relaxed and loose. Her fingers coiled down his arm and took his hand. “Come with me?”

She didn’t need to ask. He followed her away from Appa grazing on the outskirts of their small camp and pushed his shoulders down until he was sitting. Azula grabbed the thicker pieces of wood, leaning them into a small peak, and lit the fire with a flick of her wrist. He thought she’d sit across from him, on her own bedroll, or maybe go through the last of their food for a meal, but instead, she sat next to him, back into lotus and gestured for him to do the same.

“Aang tried to do this before, Azula.” He copied her anyway, going into lotus, hands resting on his knees. Sokka arched his head to get a better look at her. Her eyes were still open. “I’m not good at meditation.”

“I’m not teaching you meditation.” She raised a hand, and the blue flame spurted, parts speckling into small bits of ember. “I’m teaching you how to firebend.”

He sniffed. “Well, I can definitely say I am not good at that either.”

“You'd be atrocious.” She cracked her neck. “But I’ve never said no to challenge.” Her chest moved with the fire, rising and falling, a disconnected bellows. It was hypnotic to watch. The sense of control, of power, and the tinge of jealousy and envy he had once for Katara surprised him again.

“I’m fine not being a bender.” It was a phrase he often repeated to himself when he was younger, one of the reasons why he had committed so strongly to a club and sword.

“Good because you’ll never be one,” Harsh, but true. He shouldn’t expect anything less from her. “But I want you to feel it.” She reached for his hand, palm on top of his own. “Our uncle taught Zuko and I this when he…” She hesitated, swallowed. “After he came back from burying his son.”

“I didn’t know Iroh taught you.”

“Only this,” Azula explained. “And only once. I had different teachers but was impressed by this. There was a reason why Iroh could be so easily disinherited. He was, perhaps, equally unhinged as me for a time. But when he returned to the palace, he offered to help Zuko and me deal with our…” Her palm moved away from her his and rested again on her leg. “We were sad.”

Why?

He didn’t ask. That wasn’t the point Azula wanted to get across, and the princess, as far as he was concerned, had too many reasons to feel that way as a child, none of which he wanted to drag up for her right now. And what she was saying…the point she was trying to make… “I’m not sad.”

“You’re something worse.” She re-steadied her hand again. “Just look at the fire.” Her fingers slid through his. “It’s powerful but it’s yours. It’s inside you.” Azula exhaled. Sokka followed. “Deep, deep in your core. It’s burning through your legs, to the tips of your toes, up to your arms and neck and head.” She moved her hand, and the blue flame moved with her, with them, and though he couldn’t feel it, feel this strange connection to the open flame, he felt connected to her. Knotted and tied together with her chest, her chi, and it did burn.

“Firebending,” Azula continued. “It’s about power more than anything, but that's not everything. I knew what it was like to be too offensive tactically, and I thought it was also about control. Zuko had never been good at that until he found all of you, and I once made it my mission to learn from his mistakes.” Her hand swayed again, and the fire settled into a low orange flame, crackling sharp on the splintering wood. “But control is…it’s not accurate. You can’t tame something like this. You can push it down and expect it to behave perfectly for you every time.”

“Like you?” Sokka touched her chin so she would look at him.

“Like you,” Azula smiled, and it was completely different, not malicious or coy or sardonic. It was small and warm, a tiny flush of feeling that Sokka had only seen a few times in his life. “You’re a planner, and you’re good at it. Don’t look at me like that. You know you are.” Her eye contact broke away, concentration back on the flame. “You want things to go perfectly too. You want the best for everyone. Even me. But Sokka…” The flame went blue again. “If there’s one thing to know about firebending it’s…it’s when to stop.”

“I don’t…”

“After this all done, Zuko will disinherit me and lock me away.” And she said it with such finality, such certainty, that it felt like it already happened, that he was already too late. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

“No, Azula. I won’t let…”

“That’s it.” Her smile weakened. “That’s what I was afraid of. Sokka, you have to behave.”

“No.”

“You do.” She turned to him completely now, lips chapped and warm as they touch his. “This is tearing you apart inside.” She kissed his cheek, hand resting on his chest, moving with his breath. “I can make it easier for you.”

He doubted it.

“I’m a good liar.” She sat fully in his lap, and he could feel the heat in her belly, the tightness of her thighs as they grip against him. “And I have been using you from the beginning of this.”

“For money. I know.”

“And diplomatic immunity.” She brushed against him, hips on his, mouth on his neck and ear. “Who better to kill my enemies?”

“Azula, stop it.” He nearly pushed her off him. The heat from her rang cold, false, and Azula moved back completely.

She knelt in front of him, frustrated more than angry, head shaking back and forth in disappointment. “You’re an idiot.”

“Because I want to help you?” He stood, his own frustration boiling over, his emotion verging on anger more than her own. Was she trying to manipulate him? To what? Abandon her? Hate her? “Why are you pushing me away?”

It came out angrier, harsher than he expected. Azula flinched, and she was suddenly not a bender or a princess but just a woman. Someone who has done this for her whole life and who didn’t know any other way. Her eyes were wet, glassy, and she didn’t move to wipe them away. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t move to hug her, but knelt so that they were eye-level, brushing a piece of hair sticking to her face. Sokka still couldn't find his voice. 

“I don’t want to.” She rolled her teeth over her bottom lip. Her voice was stable, clear even with the tears on her face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sokka’s chest collapsed, and his anger dissipated. He pulled her towards him, wet streaks hitting his neck. Azula grasped at his back, breath heavy, and he cradled her face, her hair closer. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know.” Her grip on him intensified. “I don’t want…I don’t want you to hurt me.”

The words stabbed at him. “I won’t.”

She didn’t settle against him, breathing still rushed, hands still hard and digging into his back as if she were afraid to let go.

Azula was down to her tunic and pants as the air bison traveled more and more south, air breaking into something humid and warm. The landscape changed from overhead, and she was no longer afraid to glance down to see the Earth Kingdom break away into scattered islands and the cascade of blue water.

She felt like she was hanging on the edge of a cliff, like she did at that Western Air temple, falling and falling. Only then, she knew she’d be okay. She had been a different person—infallible even if that was mostly ego—and now she could just feel herself dangle, fingers losing more and more grip. And she wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't sure if she could fall and still be fine.

But the archipelago somehow still filled her with joy. That sense of familiarity would never go away, and as much as she knew she shouldn't be here, she missed it. She missed her home and the baking sun. The perfect streets of the Caldera and everyone wrapped in deep, deep red. She missed the power she felt when she walked through the palace, the ease of how she could move and take and get from anyone and everything. It was sheer dominance. She had influence over everyone and everything and as much as she knew that wasn’t true or good, she wanted a semblance of that feeling again.

She was cradled against Sokka’s chest, both of them towards the front of the air bison but Sokka still the only one responsible for the reins. Azula timed her breath with his own to steady herself, to feel him beside her. He was with her. He said so. He wouldn’t hurt her.

Though she still felt that was a mistake, even if she wanted it. Sokka seemed to be smart enough to understand self-preservation, to not drag his name and reputation through the muck of her own, yet here they were. He rested his chin on her shoulder, blue eyes directed forward, and she was the one to carefully move away and back onto the main part of Appa’s saddle as the Caldera came into full view.

Two, distinct clouds of anxiety clawed through her. Her home, her people—all a double-edged sword. How can I even face them again?

Zuko, the idiot, could be the most forgiving. They were bonded by blood and mutual hatred for a parent, and though he may be kind to her, she would never understand why. It would be easier if he were cruel if he punished her fully for what she had done.

He’s trying to help you.

And, like Sokka, was she just pushing him away?

It wouldn’t do her any good to dig into that thought now. This wasn’t about mending whatever fringe of a bond she and Zuko might have. This was about survival. Plain. Simple.

Appa started to lose height and descended towards the Fire Nation palace. It was sundown, and the red and gold of the fanned eaves and towers were painted in a light pink. They landed with no fanfare. The few palace guards nodded slightly to Sokka and Appa and looked at her with…did they not recognize her?

If they did, they seemed disinterested, but Azula still felt the need to push back her hair, rub the blood and ash and wrinkles from her clothing. This was not how she envisioned coming here again. Broken and ripped apart, dressed in blue, borrowed clothes, and asking for help. She was supposed to help Zuko. She was supposed to arrive here better, full and whole, and she wasn’t ready. How could she be ready to face him again?

She could feel the dryness of her hair, smell the sweat, and her fingers picked up speed in a poor attempt to fix it. Sokka unloaded their packs from Appa and handed her one. “We both look terrible.” His smile soothed her if only for a moment. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re joking, right?” She steadied her backpack over her shoulder and stared at the tall red door in front of them. It was cracked open. She could see the ebb and flow of torches from the audience chamber, grey shadows on the stone. Azula turned around and the Caldera was still alive. Unchanged and beautiful. And though she never really spent much time in the city itself, she can remember the view from the towers, the sight of the gardens and stores small below her.

She did not expect to be led so easily inside. If not triumphant, her arrival should have been in chains, but Sokka, apparently forgetting their plan, took her hand, white wraps feeling soft in her palm. “I’ll petition for a shower first. Maybe the Royal Spa?”

Azula looked at him, surprised at the suggestion, but of course he knew of it. It was one of her favorite places, somewhere she could be alone from her father’s sycophants and yet still be in complete control. Until she wasn’t. Until her coronation day. She moved her free hand to feel the edges of her hair. They were brittle, imprecise layers. She had to do something about it. She had to…

“Hey.” He took her other hand away from her hair. “Look at me.”

She listened. Sokka was still black and blue, tired eyes large and focused as they stared at her. He needed to stop being so close to her. “I want to get out of here.”

“Do you?” And she could tell her regretted the question, teeth hissing as he attempted to explain. “This is your home.”

“I’m not welcome here.”

“Zuko asked me to bring you.”

“Zuko’s an idiot.”

“He is in some ways.” Sokka agreed. “But not about this.”

“You’re just saying that because you…”

“Because I care about you? Azula…” He almost looked pained, body slumped, shoulders uneven. “Did you ever think that he does too?”

Sokka didn’t see how that made it worse. That if he cared about her, there was room for disappointment, for her greatest defect to completely shatter them. “I don’t want to be here.” She repeated, and that disappointment was already on Sokka’s face, but she…she couldn’t. To the east she could make out the square where she was crowned, where she had felt so simultaneously complete and empty. Where she was completely unraveled, drowned, burnt, wrecked by a brother who had always been worse than her, who wanted so badly to be loved and fixed that he didn’t see that she needed…

Stop.

Her father had died here. Her mother could be here and that was something entirely too much for her to handle in her current state, no matter how kind and loving and beautiful Sokka’s face was. She tried to remove herself from his grip, but he held steady. “I’m sorry.” He had no real reason to apologize. She agreed to come here; she thought she could do it. “We have to do this, Azula. I’m not letting you go back out there alone.”

Come with me.

He wouldn’t, and the words died before she could even start to say them. He wouldn’t abandon his friends, his family, and why would he? He was in danger around her, constantly fighting for his life and hers, and even though she wanted him to, Azula knew that if she wanted to get away from here, it would have to be alone. It was what they both deserved.

“We don’t have to see anyone today,” Sokka promised, and he was still unbearably close, nose almost touching hers, and she knew the guards could see them, knew there must be confusion of who this dirty, damaged girl was with the ambassador. “Azula, please.”

He was impossible, and though she couldn’t get herself to audibly agree, she let Sokka lead her towards the doors of the audience chamber. There was a quick order with the guards to not announce them, that she needed rest and a very specific list of herbs and could they please send them to Sokka’s normal quarters immediately?

He’s crazy.

And she was both worried and grateful for it. They were left mostly alone as they maneuvered towards the west wing of the palace, up a few stairs and down corridors and passageways, and it took Azula a moment to realize she was the one leading. She knew exactly where someone of Sokka’s status would stay, and she knew how to get there in the most un-trafficked way.

He let her take her through the halls, no corrections, and Azula was about to turn back to him and ask which room was exactly his when she noticed a spot of green at the end of the hallway. A woman. Taller than her but still slight. She turned towards them and started running, shoes clacking, white makeup orange as she passed the torchlight.

“Sokka!” She yelled and then immediately fell silent, stopped dead. Her frozen stance lasted only for a second before her feet edged back, defensive, hands on her belt.

Sokka moved Azula aside, separating them immediately and waved. Azula could see the sweat start to form immediately, the twist of a forced smile bloom on his face. “Hey, Suki.”

Chapter Text

This could have gone better, and from the vacant, icy expression on Azula’s face, he knew she was thinking the same thing. The princess stayed silent, and Sokka followed her actions, scratching his head and rocking back and forth on his heels. “Long time no see?”

“Sokka…” Suki wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were trained on Azula, measuring her, grip tight on the fan on her belt. The expression she wore was flat. “Do you need help?”

“No! No, it’s okay.” And impossible, apparently, to keep his voice steady. He wondered if she’d believe him; there was no real reason for him to be nervous unless he was threatened. Sokka sighed and pushed the room to his chambers. The door didn’t budge, and Suki took out a key from her uniform pocket.

“I saw Appa land.” She answered for him and slipped the metal piece into the lock. “I just assumed…” Her eyes darted away from Azula. “I guess we can talk about it later.”

“Why not now?” There was no flatness in Azula’s tone, no hidden threat or venom. It was blatant and strong, and Suki, despite the rise in her shoulders and long exhale of breath, said nothing but pushed the door open.

His room seemed smaller with two women inside, hotter from the body heat and bubbling tension, and Sokka didn’t know who to address first. Suki, worried but mostly confused. Azula not as hostile as she was fearful. The Fire Nation princess seemed to take in the room only briefly before crossing her arms and waiting for Suki to say something, make a move, attack her. If he were being honest, Sokka was sort of expecting the same—from either person. But for now, they were at a standstill, the fear of snapping forcing them all to an uncomfortable truce.

Sokka hated it.

“Azula, the door over there is to a bath and shower.” He knew the princess wanted to clean herself up, but she was reluctant to move. There was no real front room to the chambers—he was still young and apparently not that accomplished in the eyes of some of Zuko’s men to earn himself something a bit larger—and Azula slowly moved from her position closer to the door to the intricately carved, black dresser. Suki twitched at how easily she moved through his clothes, fingers delicately sorting through some of his more personal garments to find a new pair of pants and a tunic for her to ruin. Azula hesitated as her hand touched the door handle. She let out a strong exhale, words low. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

“Of course.”

She was scared. Her voice didn’t waver, but it was still weak, and Sokka wanted to hug her, tell her that this changes nothing, but he knew that wouldn’t look well, least of all in front of Suki. He waited for her to nod her head and go into the bathroom and then walked over to glance at himself at his own mirror, positioned squarely at the top of his dresser.

He looked ragged. Dragged. Bruised and aching and defeated, and it would be a lie to say he didn’t feel that way too. Suki was quick to follow him to his side, and whatever accusatory, mad expression he expected was nonexistent as she moved a glove finger to his temple, outlining the black and blue. Her voice was all open care, “What happened?”

“A lot.” He couldn’t help but touch her hand. He…he missed her, and it was more of a relief than he would like to admit seeing her again, to feel safe and remember that he and Azula weren’t alone through all this. She didn’t recoil away, which was good, which was something she definitely would have done before this. Sokka must have really looked terrible. “I found Azula.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting a little bit more than the obvious from him. “It took you a while.”

“We were sidetracked.”

“By what?”

He hesitated. Of course, he could tell Suki. He trusted her, but she would tell Zuko. There was no doubt in his mind about that, and he knew Azula would view it as a betrayal. “I’ll explain later.” Her eyes fell. “I promise, Suki. I just have to make sure…Azula has to be ready for it.”

“Does she?” The skepticism was obvious, and Suki lowered her voice, eyes glancing at the bathroom door where Azula’s shower could still be heard. “Aang said he saw you with her.”

“He did?” He wasn’t sure whether that should make him feel more relieved or not. “Oh, well, we did see each other in Republic City.”

“Where you asked for Appa.”

“Yeah.”

“To go to the North Pole? With Azula?” She crossed her arms, pink highlighted eyes making her seem more severe in the dark room. “To do some sort of mission?”

“Yes.” Sokka blinked. “Great, I’m glad Aang could explain…”

“Sokka, what are you doing?” Her voice was quiet but annoyed, and he could see her eyes begin to grow wet, confused, and angry and…and shit he didn’t think she would react like this. He didn’t think it would tear him up so much to see her react like this, but he felt suddenly so guilty, unsure. Suki didn’t cry. “She could have killed you.”

“No, she wouldn’t have.” His guilt quickly morphed to anger, thrusting his thoughts into a murk of confusion. Suki stiffened at his sudden defensiveness, rightly taken aback, and Sokka refrained from saying what he truly felt. He let out a long breath, moving away from her. “I’ll have to let you see that for yourself.”

“She hasn’t killed you yet.” Her blue eyes flickered up and down his body. He felt exposed, naked. “I’ll give her that at least.”

“Well, thanks.”

“You’re being…” Suki didn’t approach him, words faltering. “You’re being so closed off.”

He was. He didn’t know how to argue against it, and something told him it would be fruitless to attempt to. “Azula knows who’s trying to kill Zuko.”

That got her attention, her spine shifting straight, mouth slightly open before she quickly swallowed and steadied herself. “That’s…if that’s true…”

“It is true, Suki.”

“Aang and Katara said something similar but…” Suki shook her head. “I can’t…” Her hands fidgeted, grip tight on her fan, not in defense but in frustration. “You trust her?’

“Yes.”

Her lips folded together, front teeth biting at his quick reply. She bowed slightly, suddenly all formality, worry and fear evaporating under a mask of white face paint. “I’ll need to report this to Zuko. He’ll want to see her immediately.”

Sokka tried to save face and not vocalize how that was the exact opposite of what they were trying to do. “Just give us a few hours, okay? Let her get settled. Suki…” He lowered his head. “Please, Suki.”

“Dinner then.” Her tone was gruff. “A feast to welcome back the princess.”

Sokka nodded, heart falling. That would be the exact opposite of what she would want.

She felt better under the heat of the shower head, the familiar scent of sulfur faint and distracting as she ran her hair with her fingers, beads of fresh, hot water flowing down her back and forehead. The lotions were the same here as her own champers, all floral and tropical fruit, soap hard enough to truly exfoliate her skin and remove the layers of dust and grime.

She did feel better.

She did.

She could do this.

Azula heard the low murmurings of Sokka and the Kyoshi Warrior. They were most likely talking about her, and there was a flash of anxiousness, of Sokka seeing that girl again and remembering how much better he could actually do. But there was a weird sense of ease at that thought. His realization, the sooner it came, would make everything else easier. Leaving him. Making sure he was safe and getting those assassins off his trail. Sure, she’d most likely have to burn the last remaining bit of her pride and see her brother again, but she would do well. Too well. He would let her be on her own—they couldn’t be in the same bedroom anyway without terrible rumors—and then Azula could leave. She knew this palace in and out. It would be child’s play.

She looked thin in the mirror, muscle mass almost gone, cheeks hollow and hair stringy under the weight of the water. The voices stopped outside, but she could hear footsteps, steady and fluid. Sokka was pacing. He must have been anxious, and she felt her chest grow heavy.

Azula quickly dressed and opened the door, steam escaping into the bedroom. The Kyoshi Warrior was gone, and Sokka looked up immediately, blue eyes wide and tracing her. He was nervous. He was afraid. Azula moved to touch him, and his shoulders sagged. “What’s wrong?”

“You…you look better.” He took a step back. “You’re so clean. Don’t get too close to me. My barbarian scent will stick to you.”

“Sokka, where’s that girl?” She swallowed. “Suki, right?”

He rubbed his elbow. “She’s talking to Zuko.” Sokka hesitated, waited for her to…to what? She expected as much. Why wouldn't the good guard dog tell his master? She tried to keep her face calm, and it seemed to ease Sokka. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” If she said it enough, it could be true. Her herbs that Sokka requested still weren’t here, but she still felt more…more like herself with a plan in place. Her hands played with his collar. “Did she have anything else to say to you?”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, confused. “She wants to throw a dinner for you.”

Azula sniffed. “How pleasant.” She let her fingers trace his sternum, enjoying how warm his own skin felt. She would have to savor it while she they were still alone, while they were still together. “I’m honored.”

He was hesitant to touch her back, to lean down and kiss her, and the look in his eyes was not the normal clouded heat. They were clear, worried, and Azula took a step away. “Well, it’s already past sundown. You’ll need all the time you can get to look halfway decent again.”

“Again?” His reluctance evaporated, if only for a moment. “So, you admit I normally look good?”

“Decent,” she repeated, the smile impossible to hide and exactly what she needed to help smooth over the growing tension between them.

But no matter. The sooner she saw her brother, the sooner she could leave.

Sokka was dressed in Southern political finery—heavy furs and bone and leather bleached and dyed that now familiar ice blue. He ran a comb through his thick brown hair, seeming to sigh at the sight of the long sides, the once shaved hair now grown out and a smooth light brown. Azula suggested a top-knot, and though she expected Sokka to refuse, he did it. Easily. Hands dexterous and experienced to form an almost perfect bun on his head. Azula glanced at the jian resting against the dresser. “You’re more Fire Nation than I ever thought.”

He jumped at the compliment, though she wasn’t sure he would see it as such. His smile was toothy. “Says the firebender in all blue. Come here.”

Azula moved from the spot on her bed, stomach full of water and tea and the herbs a few servants had brought while Sokka was showering. It was a rush, and whatever found calm she had from her new strategy was amplified with her medicine. Good. She would need every last bit of it tonight.

She stood in front of Sokka, mirror in front of them both. He moved her a bit, grasping her shoulders, and then took the whale bone brush and dragged it through her hair. She exhaled at the action, at his gentleness, at the focus he had on her and her reflection. It made her toes curl. The bun he created was smaller than what she was used to, held tight only with a strap of leather and no gold comb. Her bangs fell and touched her cheekbones, and he moved one aside, feeling her skin with the light brush of his fingers. “You’re beautiful.”

“You are too.”

He smiled, pure and wide, and kissed the top of head. “I know you can do this, Azula.” His warm breath pressed against her scalp. “And if you want to leave, I’ll go with you.”

Would you?

Her mind raced, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant. He wouldn’t leave here, just this dinner. He would walk her back, hand-in-hand if she asked it of him, and make sure she was okay. He really, really would. She almost fell into his chest. It was just too tempting. Could she ask him to leave with her?

No.

That wasn’t the point anyway. She would do this. Properly warn Zuko. Make sure Sokka was safe. He wouldn’t be safe with her. Azula bowed her head, voice even. “Thank you.”

There was a knock on the door, and Sokka moved away to answer it, red still on his cheeks. “Toph?” His voice pitched, and Azula looked away from her reflection to see a barefoot woman with clouded eyes sighing in the doorframe.

“Alright, Snoozles. This has been a trip. Let’s go and have story time.” Her head arched in her direction. “Let’s play nice, Princess?”

“Do either of us know how?” Azula quipped, and the earthbender stiffened before falling into a long, full laugh.

“Fair enough. Let’s at least hold back until after dessert. I hear there’s gonna be mango fruit tart.”

She knew every second of this walk. Every floor. Every hall. Every terrible painting and tapestry, and it ricocheted through her head like the gong before an Agni Kai. Only three more stairwells, five more turns. Only two, now one hallway and there. There he was.

Her brother.

She stopped as the doors to the dining room slid open, nearby Fire Nation guards keeping both their heads and eyes down as they moved it. Her brother. Seated where their father once sat, where their grandfather did before them, at the head of a rectangular table, slightly elevated above the ground though he sat on the same pad of cushions as everyone else. Aang was at his right side, Katara next to her. That Kyoshi Warrior was on his left and then…then shit Ty Lee and Mai. Azula stuttered in the door frame, pausing at the scene, of all their expressions empty and vacant, nothing shining except the gold crown on her brother’s head.

Zuko.

She felt her chest heave, her eyes running wet, burning, and Sokka’s hand was on her. She felt him lightly press into her shoulder, massaging her, placating her, but still she felt crippled. Toph moved around them to sit next to Katara, shrugging as she knelt. Sokka bowed first, gestured for Azula to follow. She didn’t.

Her brother looked so weak. There was so much emotion baked into his frame, and though she was the one with nothing but the thin trust of one of his allies, he seemed more hurt. He seemed vulnerable and cracking, and she just didn’t understand. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Mai stood, red robes falling straight as she rose. “Sit down.”

“Why am I allowed to just come in here?” She knew she sounded cruel, vice-like. Ty Lee, unsurprisingly, flinched at her inflection, knees buried to her chest.

“Azula, sit down.” Mai's voice was equally hard.

She glanced at the food on the table. Tea in the center, hand painted turtle ducks traced around the earthenware kettle. There was so much food—meats and noodles and heavy bowls of rice. Fish grilled and cut fruit and even a spiced red wine in a decanter.

Her mind continued to scream. This isn’t right. This was a mask, a washed canvas, a…second--no, third--chance. All these people around her and not smiling but not yelling either. She didn’t want to wait for it all to break, for all of them to just suddenly remember who she was and what she had done to each and every one of them.

Ty Lee was still shaking, and Mai, weaponless, was piercing Azula still with her eyes as she sat again. It had been so long since she had seen either of them, and it…it felt crushing, overwhelming, as if she was being choked.

I don’t deserve this.

This…whatever this was. Some false semblances of forgiveness or maybe some unspoken truce. She didn’t deserve any of it, and her body started to tilt, sway.

The Avatar approached her. There was an age behind his eyes, a grace in his movement that Azula never noticed before. “You can sit next to me, Azula. Katara will move.”

“I will?” Katara closed her mouth shut. “I mean, of course. Yes.” The waterbender was next to her now, distracted immediately by Sokka and the darkened bruise on his temple. Her fake smile faltered, but to her credit, she quickly recovered and just grabbed her brother’s hand.

Azula, not knowing what else to do but run away, followed Aang to the right side of the square table. He bent slowly, and she mimicked, matching his breaths and exhales as he offered her a bowl of steamed vegetables. “No oyster sauce though.” Aang’s grin was real. “Hope you don’t mind.”

She looked to Zuko, who still hadn’t said anything but stared at her with a look that could only be described as pity. She wanted to burn him again right then and there. But no. She couldn’t. That wasn’t the goal. That wasn't part of her plan. 

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded too low, but Aang heard her anyway and dumped more vegetables than she could ever eat on her plate. She politely refused the offer of wine but accepted the tea, and Sokka sat across from her, next to Suki, his face one of the only things holding her down to her zabuton.

They ate in mostly silence. Mai did not acknowledge her again. Ty Lee was afraid to look her way, eyes downcast and moving her rice in small circles in her bowl. Katara and Sokka did most of whatever talking there was—Katara mostly chiding Sokka on his hair and face and how he was eating too fast. Aang was impossibly calm next to her, no piece of artifice in his smile, in the way he tilted his head and asked her calmly, “How have you been, Azula?”

And she couldn’t help but look at Zuko. Who seemed, suddenly, able to see through her. She was transparent, his gold eyes too like hers, the pink, ruined skin of his scar a physical mockery of both of their childhoods.

She couldn’t answer Aang’s question—not honestly, not with so many people wondering when not if she would crack. Azula sliced cleanly through a piece of meat. The sensation was wonderful, nostalgic, thick spices burning through her nose, and she wanted to hum.

“You seem well.” Zuko’s smile was small, barely there. His left hand fidgeted towards her and then deftly reached for a glass of wine.

Her emotions were confusing. She wanted to…she didn’t know. Hold his hand? Hug him? Promise to be a better sister?

I can’t.

He had so much hope in his face, one of the only people here who seemed happy to see her, though he had the least reason to. She didn’t understand him. She couldn’t be what he wished for, what he deserved, despite how much she wanted to.

Chapter Text

There was a constant nudge at his side, a pull and tug that he must have imagined—some weird physical manifestation of his brain and its stressed thoughts. By the time the meal ended, Ty Lee and Toph had a little too much wine. Zuko was working too hard to avoid Mai, and Aang was rattling on to Azula about penguin surfing or how he had once climbed four mountains with his friend Kuzon just to see a dragon.

The princess was all politeness, gold eyes wide and head nodding, and Sokka had to hold back a snicker, the sense of levity too strong to see her there with Aang—with them all—and everything just seeming okay. He wasn’t naïve enough to not notice how she didn’t speak to Ty Lee or Mai, and even her brother was more of a gesture of acknowledgment than anything meaningful.

But it was all…civil. It was all a start of something actually working—of her not bound or jailed or lighting things on fire, and couldn’t he count that as a win?

“Sokka.”

So, the tugging was real, and Katara was the one pulling on his sleeve, at some point moving to his other side to recheck his head injury. She was less careful now, pulls hard and jerking, and Sokka looked at his little sister with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up, Katara?”

“Before you decide to just vanish again, can we talk?”

His nails dug into his pants, scraping at his kneecaps. Sokka already removed layer after layer of ceremonial fur—too hot in this climate and level of alcohol. “You and Aang want another recap?”

“Just me.” Her fingers were back on his face, stretching his bruised skin. “You shouldn’t really be drinking. You had a concussion.”

He fanned her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

There was a grumble of how could she not when he comes back looking half-dead, and Sokka would have argued back if he weren’t distracted with what he would do with Azula. He caught her eyes on him, attentive façade vanishing to one of concern for only a second. She turned back to Aang when he looked at her, and fine, that was fine. He had to settle the need to lean forward and reach for her hand, to move the bangs from her face or ask her how she was enjoying the food, if it was better than the meat he had hunted. He wanted her to be impressed by his ability to eat (or suffer through) the spiced rice cakes, the chili-infused soups, and say something again about how he was more Fire Nation than she thought. And that maybe, she liked seeing him here the same way he liked seeing her in the North. That maybe she could see him here with her.

Could he see that?

He had never thought that before. He had been in and out of this country so many times, and though sometimes the trips were months long, he never considered moving here permanently. Even when…even when Suki and he broke up over that exact same thing. There was always that need to go back to the South, to wake up wrapped in the view of snow and ice. He thought that sense of home was irreplaceable, that Katara was incredibly strong to find Republic City to be her more permanent home. And when he had asked Katara about it, she just smiled and told him it’d be okay—that she’d be with Aang. That she…she…

Shit.

It hit like an avalanche, like a wave cresting so high that it blocked the sun, only to fall and pummel him with salt and streaks of cold. The weight of that emotion—of the shock that he felt this for Azula and not Suki—made the movement in his body stop, the chopsticks heavy and awkward in his fingers.

“Oh wow.”

He fidgeted up at the high-pitched giggle of Ty Lee. He was used to seeing the girl in the green armor and white makeup of the Kyoshi Warriors, but tonight she had reverted to her teenage look. Long braid, rose-colored clothes. Ty Lee leaned her elbows on the table and tilted her head towards Sokka. “You’re so pink!”

The table turned to look at him, Ty Lee’s volume and pitch cutting through the other chatter. Sokka touched his cheeks, self-conscience. “Must be the wine.”

“Not that, silly! Your aura.” She twisted her fingers through the tail end of her braid. “Excited to see little old me again?”

A clatter. Azula’s chopsticks hit the edge of her dishes with a solid clack, and the room removed its gaze from him and to her. She shifted on her knees, delicately placing her chopsticks back to the side of her bowl. “I thought pink also corresponded to weakness.” She raised a pinched smile in his direction. “That seems to be the most likely interpretation in this instance.”

“It can, Azula, but this is definitely more…saturated. Yeah, no doubt about it.” Her bright excitement lessened to something softer. “But you, uh, you remember that? What I taught you about auras?”

“Of course, I do.” She still didn’t make eye contact. “That and Zuko’s daily schedule that I would always recount to Mai.”

Another clatter of chopsticks—this time from Suki who was less than graceful moving one off her lap and back to the table. Sokka just looked at her, selfishly enjoying her sudden unease, and eventually, the girl settled herself enough to take a long sip of wine. “Did he also ‘mediate’ by the turtle duck pond for three hours as a child?”

Zuko face turned completely red. “Suki…”

“If by mediate you mean brood and waste perfectly good bread? Yes. Sometimes for half a day.”

Mai twirled a butterknife in her fingers lazily. “He would do the same on our dates. Zuko, remember when you were so upset after we went to that tea house that served us stale oolong?”

The Fire Lord was nearly sinking in his seat, muttering. “They barely even served it warm…”

There was even more laughter after that, and he stole a glance at Azula, her face lighter, her gold eyes not piercing or metallic but just warm. And she held his gaze, cheeks high and unable to retain her smile as she mouthed a few words—inaudible and lost.

And he mouthed three words back, equally inaudible and hidden, but it was done, and he did it. Maybe it was too fast and too new, but it was true and there, and saying it didn’t feel wrong. But his chest heaved as she looked at him curiously, head tilted in confusion.

Zuko halted any further pour of wine—apparently done being tormented—and officially announced that everyone should get some sleep before tomorrow. They need to strategize, of course. Three of the people in this room were presumably assassination targets, and Ozai was attacked within the palace walls. They’d need to act quickly, plan thoroughly, and at the rate they were going, at least one of them would be hungover the next day. That or they would just embarrass the Fire Lord further.

Katara’s grip on his hand was firm and always impossible to talk his way out of. He wasn’t close enough to tell Azula that he couldn’t walk her back, and he hoped that she wouldn’t be shocked when he heard a knock on her door later in the night.

But how would even know which room she was in?

…How weird of a question would it be to ask?

“I’ll see Azula to her room.” Suki stood as soon as Zuko did. “If that’s okay with the princess?”

“Thank you.” Azula nodded her head, eyes lingering on Sokka before following Suki out of the room.

That was a weird combination of people Sokka never really wanted to interact alone, but he pushed that anxiety away, the room settling in an awkward tension without the vanished princess.

“That was…” Aang broke the silence first. “She seemed okay.”

“Seemed,” Mai repeated, clearly less convinced. “Zuko, what are you planning to do with her?”

“Protect her.” Zuko answered immediately. “I just haven’t decided if I have to protect her from herself as well.” Mai seemed dissatisfied, and Ty Lee moved next to her, giving her a one-sided, rocking hug. Zuko folded his hands under his long sleeves.

“Sokka feels the same way,” Toph yawned, incredibly quiet before all this and why couldn’t she stay so?

Zuko turned to look at him, and the pointed glare he expected, the protective bite was absent. “As a brother, you must understand.”

“Of course.”

As a brother.

Right. That made sense.

“I hope you enjoyed the food.”

They were too polite to each other, and Azula was trying desperately to not overload her emotions at what had just happened. At the…familiarity and love that she felt in that room and the memory of walking down these halls back to her own quarters. There was a thin memory in her mind, of a woman cradling her against her breast, an old story of dragons and dances and lost loves in her ear, and it seemed like another life, something she had seen in a painting or tapestry and not lived.

“You live here now?” Azula knew the question threw the other woman off, which was the exact intent. She double downed. “You look after my brother?”

“I do.” Suki was unflappable, heavy boots stopping suddenly before they properly got to Azula’s room. “Do you…” She leaned back on the wall, and without the face paint, the sword on her side, she was really quite delicate. Beautiful and porcelain and strong, and Azula wondered if she looked anything like that. Not in direct appearance, but something internal. Something that seemed to glow and attract, and she questioned, not for the first time, what could have happened between Sokka and her. What kept them apart now?

Azula crossed her arms. “Do I what?”

“Do you care about him?”

That was not the question she expected. And besides a few looks and her finding them in his room, there wasn’t much interaction between them to draw any strong conclusion. Azula hedged. “We are…indifferent to each other.”

“Indifferent?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Suki nodded her head. “If that’s…well anyway, that doesn’t matter. I just wanted to thank you.”

She jolted, even more surprised by that. Azula, feeling cornered, continued to walk down the hall, hoping the Kyoshi Warrior would follow. She did, albeit slowly. “You’re welcome.”

“I know we’re not…I mean, we’re not together anymore, but I still love him.”

Azula settled her breathing, glad that she was ahead and not side-by-side so that she could hide her face. “Fantastic.”

“I know you both must have faced a lot. Sokka’s strong and definitely capable, but he was knocked out, wasn’t he? That injury…”

“He was.” Azula didn’t like to think about it. “I’m sorry I let that happen.”

“Don’t be unless you caused it.” Something in Suki’s tone made it seem like the idea still wasn’t impossible, and Azula was prone to agree. He wouldn’t be in danger if it weren’t for her. In a way, she had caused it. Suki continued, “Anyway, just thank you. That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Thank you for protecting my brother.” Perhaps she said it out of discomfort—she wasn’t used to anyone’s gratitude outside of the war—and to make Suki equally awkward.

She wasn’t though. Suki nodded her head, speed quickening so that they were side-by-side. “It’s my job.”

“I think you would anyway.” Zuko had so many people willing to fight for him. Even her. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate and bowed slightly when they approached her room. “I’ll come get you tomorrow before our meeting. Oh, and Azula?” Suki handed her the keys to her old room. “There will be four Kyoshi Warriors posted outside this room and your window at all times. Ty Lee has trained all of them.”

“How…thoughtful.”

“A risk measure.” Suki shrugged. “Sleep well.”

That would be impossible.

“This is the notorious pond of brooding?”

Katara chuckled at his joke, moving the water gently with her right hand to create small ripples in the pond. Whatever turtle ducks that lived there were long asleep, the moon high and casting a white sheen on the pond’s surface. This garden was relaxing, tropical, and warm and littered with worn benches and blooming flowers. A place of peace in a nation built from war, and Sokka couldn’t picture a young Azula here. In his mind, their childhoods weren’t that different. Absent parents. A weight of too-soon expectation. A need to be a soldier because that was what everyone expected of you. It was most likely only amplified for a girl with her title, and Sokka absently tossed a rock in a pond.

Katara laid her head on his shoulder. Both of them were seated, and Sokka nudged his shoulder up, making Katara groan in frustration. “I was worried about you, you know.”

“No need to worry.” He patted her head. It was still coarse but smoother than it had ever been when they both lived in the South Pole. His breath flumed to his nose, hard, stuck. Katara worried about him for the majority of their lives. He…he felt guilty for it. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But Azula is a wild card, and what you guys were doing…” Katara sighed. “Why didn’t you want help?”

“We’re here now.”

“But before. Aang could have gone with you. Or me.”

“You needed to protect Iroh and Zuko.” Sokka mindlessly tossed another rock. “Plus traveling with the Avatar or his girlfriend would have attracted a lot of attention.”

She couldn’t refute that and went back to creating small waves in the pond. The image sparked a memory, of ice and white bubbles swirling in a small whirl off the edge a kayak, of the surrounding women and children looking at her with pure awe. Her gift was always welcomed, nourished. Never taken for granted. Never squandered or bled dry. When did that start seeming lucky?

“Do you remember Hama?”

The name instantly got a reaction from Katara, and his sister moved her head off his shoulder to look at him directly. “Yes.” Her voice was cautious.

“She was one of us. She knew Gran-Gran. They were friends…”

“Sokka?”

His legs shifted inwards, and he cradled them, leaning his cheek on his knees. “Do you think we could have helped her?”

“She was lost.” Katara’s ministrations against the water stopped, and she looked at her own hands. “She didn’t care who she hurt as long as they were Fire Nation, and she had her revenge.”

Sokka nodded. Hama had been traumatized, living with her pain and anger for decades. And though deep down he felt the same, it wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for. “What about Jet?”

“Jet?”

“If we convinced him sooner…”

Katara sniffed. “You hated Jet.”

“I still didn’t want…well, whatever to happen to him.”

“Jet’s different.” She pushed a piece of brown hair behind her ear, shoulders and body still tense. “You know I had something to say to you too.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I think we’re getting there.” Katara turned to face him completely, cross-legged. Sokka didn’t follow. “I told her that I trust your judgement, Sokka, and I do. With Jet. With Zuko.”

“Not with Aang.”

“You thought Aang was a firebender.” She punched him playfully, and Sokka chuckled. To be fair, he had never seen any other person not from the South Pole besides a firebender. Light skin. Not-blue eyes. It wasn’t the worst guess he had. “I want to trust you about Azula.”

He let out that caught bit of air, visibly relaxing too much for his liking. Sokka rubbed at his face, grateful, relieved, and shook his head. “You do?”

“You care about her.”

It wasn’t a question, and Sokka was glad because it gave him no opportunity to even attempt to deny it. And care…he was supposed to care about people, want the best for them, sympathize, empathize. “Yeah.”

“She earned that, didn’t she?” Katara touched his head wound again. “Aang already forgave her for what she had done to him, but I…” She swallowed. “Saving you—does that cancel out killing him?”

“It doesn’t.” Sokka knew it didn’t. “But it can’t hurt, can it?”

“How do you know that this isn’t another scheme?” Katara asked, not accusatory but curious. He was surprised by how patient his sister was, how her normal temper and quick judgment seemed tempered under the night sky and all this humid heat. Sokka was grateful for it.

“What would be her plan? Use me to get her here? She could have done that a month ago. If she wanted to kill Zuko…” He shook his head. “She doesn’t want to kill Zuko.”

“It’d be easier if she did.” The remark shocked Sokka, and Katara shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve dealt with Azula before. She’s a known entity. But what you two were implying…that whoever we’re after has her on the run…” She moved her hand on top of hers. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Will Suki…”

“Katara.”

“Ozai died here while locked in a cell, Sokka.” And for once her voice became hard, firm, commanding. “We have to be careful. This place isn’t safe.”

“Let me be the big brother for once, okay? I’m okay. Be with Aang.” He hesitated, chest hammering over his next words. “I…I won’t be alone.”

“Oh.” She swallowed the word, a visible lump in her throat. “I, um, I guess that’s good.”

He bit his lip, partially disbelieving her words. “It is.”

“Okay.” Katara stood up, rocking a bit as her legs extended. “Well, can you be a good big brother and walk me back to my room?”

Was it that easy? Sokka couldn’t help but stand and hug her, too tightly pulling her close to him that it caused Katara to yelp in surprise. He couldn’t help it. If she…did she just accept it just like that? Sokka offered her a hooked arm. “Let’s go.”

She may have doubled her dosage when she got back to her room. The large canopy bed. The light, too-soft sheets. The watercolors and tapestries and ornate wood carvings hung around the walls, decoration displaying wealth more than any of her particular interests. Much of it was the same, though there were a few things moved around. The room was well-dusted, taken care of, and though she had expected either a tomb to her childhood or walls stripped clean of every memory of her, the reality was something in between. Not quite the same but familiar. Azula was glad for it.

Her hands opened the closet door immediately, and her old armor was there, red tunics and robes and small flexible slippers lining the bottom. She leaned to pick them up but hesitated. What would be more obvious? Her in her own clothes or wrapped in blue?

Blue in the Fire Nation would surely stand out, and besides, she wanted Tai Yan to recognize her immediately before she killed her. She stripped out of Sokka’s clothes, slow and cautious not to ruin everything, not to forget the smell and feel of the fabric and not think about how it was him she was shedding, running from. You have to do this. It was no longer a question. She played nice. Was polite and patient and listened to too many stories about peace and cake-destroying tactics from the Avatar. She masqueraded as the good, redeemed princess for long enough—it was time to be her again.

Azula picked her simplest clothes and kept Sokka’s leather tie in her hair, her own showier and the want to keep something of his too strong to ignore. There was an old satchel in her closet, some gift from Lo and Li, and she placed inside a pearled comb, a gold bracelet, mementos of hers that could be sold and bartered with for passage to Ember Island. Tai Yan would be there, waiting for her rabid dog to come home so she could finally take her out of misery. But she was no longer leashed, no longer needed the praise and approval of someone who promised her greatness.

Fuck greatness. She was a fool for ever thinking it would make her happy.

There was nothing more she wanted to take, and she waited at the edge of her door, ear pressed tight and waiting for the Kyoshi Warriors guarding her to get distracted or change shifts. Her moment came with the sound of Ty Lee’s voice, and the three other girls sounded worried and concerned and anxious to hear the gossip of the dinner tonight. The voices faded as Ty Lee dragged them away to discuss away from her room, afraid of carried voices, and Azula had to wonder if this was her old friend’s last gift. Ty Lee knew her better than most people. She knew she would want to run. That she didn’t…that she couldn’t be here anymore.

She slipped out of the room too easily, feet soundless in her new but old shoes. The door closed behind her, but she didn’t bother with the lock. The sound of metal on metal and the time it would be needed to properly lock it was too much for her to risk.

Azula should have gotten out immediately. Perhaps find an empty room and window and jump. Run down the stairs. Get out and gone and far, but her feet were guiding her somewhere else, and her mind was blank and empty until she reached the large door, guards outside staring at her in confusion.

Damn.

Why did she come here? Why was she outside his room, aching and torn and expecting…what was she expecting?

She took a half-step back, angry for her idiocy, at risking everything just so she could see him again, and before she could run back, the whispers of the guards stopped and the door fell open. He looked at her, mouth open, eyes glancing at the satchel and then back to her. “I was just about to go to you.” He stepped away from the door. “Come inside?”

“You’re sure about that?” She glanced at the posted guards. Her grip on her bag was white knuckled.

“Yes.” He gestured to his room again. “Come in, Azula.”

“Okay.” She watched her footing, both wanting this and fearing that she was somehow trapped by him. This was so silly. Incredibly dumb, but still she moved forward, tilting her head as she passed him in the doorframe. “Let’s talk, Zuzu.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a shock that Zuko didn’t move to their father’s bedroom, and she wondered, briefly, if he had set it on fire. If not, she would be happy to do the honor. She said as much to him, and perhaps it came across more malintent than joke, but Zuko—like all things—took her words extremely seriously and offered her a seat on the foot of his bed. “I think we could come up with a safe way to do it. We’d just need to be sure we don’t burn down anything else.

“You’re an idiot. I’m joking.”

“It’s hard to tell.” And his flat tone was enough to show that he wanted it too. That though she so vehemently loathed their father, he did so equally and for longer. Unlike her room, his was exactly the same from her memory. Same bed and pictures and old furniture—the only difference a blue mask hanging over his dresser, framed by two broadswords.

Azula looked at them with admiration. “I’ve heard about that mask. Is it safe to assume you didn’t capture the Blue Spirit?”

“It would be.”

“Impressive, Zuzu. I was always curious why you wasted your time with Piandao when you were so miserable at bending. I thought that should be your sole focus, but I suppose diversification of your skillset paid off.”

A pause. She realized, suddenly, that the room may be the same. That she may still be clawing at the baseline of their relationship—of goading and both of their fragile egos coming to a toxic head. But in her memory, Zuko would always back down, flush with anger and then sadness and then run away from her. On a bad day, he’d have tears in his eyes and run to their mother. On even worse days, he’d crawl back here, tears stinging and flooding Azula with unwanted guilt. And she would stalk behind him, berate him more, maybe, but only because he couldn’t be weak. Not here. Couldn’t he see that? They didn’t have that luxury.

This Zuko was…

This Zuko was different.

“Are you leaving?”

She tinged that he ignored her completely, all her baiting and mocking easily rolling off him like he was slicked with oil. He deflected so easily and powerfully, and yes, the satchel on her back was obvious, wasn’t it? “Yes.”

“Already?” Zuko sat in lotus on the ground. Annoying. Did he think that his lower position would give her some false sense of power? That she would feel secure and suddenly open up? Azula scowled and sat on the floor across from him, dropping the satchel at her side.

His crown was off his head, but she wasn’t a fool. With a snap, he could drag her back into the dungeon, into a cell, call for Aang to sap her powers and leave her useless and leeched. He had the upper hand in every scenario, and even if she could do something—attack him, hurt him—the consequence of such would stain her. Sokka would never forgive her. She would never…never…

“Why do I feel like I’m always competing against you?”

The question stirred her out of her thoughts, and Azula turned her face from the floor to look at her brother. Young, scarred, tired. The red of his face was dry and painful to look at,  and her old satisfaction of the wound bled away to something darker. “You were.”

“Azula…” Her name was breathy in his mouth, heavy. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m sorry for what happened to you.” He paused. Was he expecting her to say something? “Do you…do you understand that it happened to both of us?”

“It was better for you.” She replied harshly, and he dropped his eye contact. The motion made his scar more prominent, and she almost took back her declaration. Azula sniffed. “You had our mother at your beck and call. Iroh loved you. I had our father and…”

“And at one point Mai and Ty Lee and Lo and Li. You had me too, Azula. Don’t you remember? Under Ba Sing Se, I helped you.”

“Before you grew a conscience.”

“Yes,” Zuko admitted. “Have you grown yours yet?”

Her first instinct was to hit him, and her fist curled together at her side, nails digging into the inside of her palm. “Clearly not.”

“Could you at least tell me where you are going?” Zuko asked. He saw her hesitation easily. “I won’t follow you.”

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t follow her, and it was impossible to try and reason with the disappointment blooming in her chest. “There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Where?”

“Ember Island.” She waited for his reaction, some passionate outcry of how she was his sister and that he would come with her, but nothing came. They weren’t like that. What was she expecting? She bowed her head slightly, an archaic sign of respect that he would surely take too seriously again. “Now, if you excuse me.” She moved to stand, and Zuko didn’t reach out for her, call her name.

Her footsteps felt heavy as she headed towards the wooden door. The satchel swung, dead weight on her shoulder. Still, she anticipated him following in step behind her, always behind, and the memory of their childhood together stung like a thin, sharp knife. Her brimming and smiling in the throne room, her grandfather and namesake endlessly impressed. Zuko too ordinary to the point that it made everyone think he was less than, and he was always so angry. They were both always so angry, but she had bottled hers down, pushed and buried it deep, deep into her core until it shattered her.

And she paused again as she went down floor by floor, no longer anticipating footsteps, but hesitant all the same. Her heart and chest felt tethered to this place, unintentionally bound, and she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay with him.

Her brother.

He had tried to help her so many times, hadn’t he? And she did too. Misguided and wrong, maybe, but he was her brother, and he was the only one who truly knew her, the only one who had an idea of what it was like to grow up here—unwanted but powerful. Achingly strong but always feeling less than. It would take ages to describe it to anyone else, and even then, a bond like that couldn’t be recreated or mimicked. Azula had spent so much time disassociating herself from Zuko that she didn’t realize how much she needed him.

But he didn’t need her. On the contrary. She was an added complication, another line of bait for their enemies. Another wrinkle and loose end. She was better burnt off, blazed shut than let unravel.

She would be alone after this. Her brother left her with no sentiment, no proclamation that she could come back, and it would be okay. She’d have to run somewhere else—maybe Republic City. There she could catch a glimpse of Sokka on the street, hailing a carriage, grabbing some terrible food from a street vendor, living a life without constantly watching her or his back and just smiling.

That would be nice.

The thought of him has her mobile. She couldn’t think about Sokka with the intention of never seeing him again. She wanted a last time, a better moment of them besides longing glances over a dinner table. Foolish. She understood why it was hard to leave Zuko—her brother, her blood. But Sokka? She should still be indifferent to him. She should feel nothing but annoyance and maybe relief at the prospect of being far from him, not…not empty.

She found herself steering to the direction of his room and internally cursed. That would do neither of them any favors, and with no more hesitance, Azula redirected herself and left.

Azula most likely had a guard on her door. That was the most likely explanation why she didn’t come to find him, wasn’t it? She obviously knew where he was. Maybe she wanted to be left alone? Maybe this night had been too overwhelming in general and she just wanted to be by herself. It wasn’t unfounded. Sokka felt emotionally harried. Like a fish that had been left too long on the coal—dried and flaked and ruined. He laid on his familiar, too comfy bed, and attempted to scrape off some of the char. They were safe. They were both unbound. Katara was worried about the safety of the palace, but they could handle that. He’d catch up with Toph and Suki properly tomorrow and see where they stood on finding attackers inside the palace, and Azula would tell them more about Tai Yan and Fui Long and…

 Arnook and Hahn.

His head spun again. That had still remained unsorted. And though Hahn had helped them both, Sokka knew that the Kemurikage’s influence ran deep and high in the Northern Water Tribe. He’d have to handle that issue delicately. Katara would be floored, angry, and in complete disbelief if that accusation came from Azula and not him.

What tied them together?

An Earth Kingdom merchant. A prominent Northern Tribe family. A healer and firebender. How did they find each other? How did they even arrange this?

It bothered him but not nearly as much as the thought of Azula alone and afraid and overwhelmed by seeing all her enemies in a room chatting over dinner. Sokka shifted out of any formal wear and put on more basic clothing, attaching his sword to his back for show. The walk to Azula’s room was slow and mostly ran off memory—he too self-conscious to ask for the princess’s quarters at this time of night.

The outward appearance was similar to Zuko’s room, exactly the same except for a slightly smaller door to reflect their birth order more than anything else. There were three Kyoshi Warriors at the far end of the hall, chatting softly between themselves, and Sokka wondered if he should mention this to Suki. As their leader, she’d want them to be attentive at all times, but then again, how boring was it to simply watch over a sleeping girl? Not like Azula would try anything. Not now.

Despite their casual chatter, they still caught sight of him as he approached the door and knocked. None of them said anything, and he prickled. Did Suki warn them of…of something? Did they expect this? That would be something he’d need to sort out later, but for now, he’d just be grateful that they wouldn’t stop him from seeing Azula. Perhaps he could further convince them not to tell Suki and Zuko about this little visit. Okay so, they weren’t exactly huge fans of his ever since Suki and him broke up, but they’d have to…

The door creaked open and Sokka turned at the low-pitched grunt and immediately panicked.

Because despite the black hair and gold eyes, this was most definitely not Azula. And his mind spun at how he could lie his way out of this, how he could possibly cover for roaming the halls late into the night and knocking on Azula’s door. If their roles were reversed, Sokka’s sword would already be drawn.

But Zuko looked more tired than surprised. His hand rubbed over his face as he sighed and pointed to the sword on Sokka’s back. “Did you really think you'd need that here?”

And yeah, he wasn’t flanked by fire or crowned or even dressed in anything formal, but Sokka felt the vibrato of a Fire Lord. All attempt at lying left. “No.”

“Come in.”

“Where’s Azula?”

Zuko raised his sole eyebrow at the question, and Sokka knew his tone must have been too strong, too worried. He said nothing, however, and opened the door more for Sokka to come in, revealing the full view of her empty room.

Empty.

Zuko seemed more fascinated with the recent artifacts of Azula’s life—her empty vials, her (but really his) discarded blue clothes. He lifted the borrowed blue tunic and held it up in front of Sokka’s frame, measuring. “How did you help my sister?”

“Is that important right now?” Because, really, he didn’t feel like talking about this ever, especially not without Azula by his side. And also, Azula was gone. Why would she be gone? Why would…

Sokka closed his eyes, shaking his head. Was he that much of an idiot? Did he get so caught up in…in what? Wanting to save her? Seeing her as so powerful and beautiful and intelligent that he could just brush aside how Spirits-damn manipulative she was? Did she trick him this entire time?

No. No. The logical and emotional side fell into agreement. No, she wouldn’t leave him just because. They were real. That was real. And what would have been the point of tricking him? If her ambition were to get into the palace, he could have brought her here immediately. Before all…all of that.

Zuko let the tunic fall from his hand and sighed again. There was a vanity in the corner. A bookcase brimmed with history and political texts. There were tightly wound scrolls in neat piles and a small row of repaired dolls, and the room looked like well taken care of. Precious.

He fought the words from his lips. You love her too. Sokka saw the evidence of it in his surroundings, in the way Zuko paced quickly around the room. Small circles. Black hair loose and flying. “I thought maybe she’d return here. I…I don’t know why. Of course she left. She told me she was going to. But she always lies…I thought…” Zuko pinched his nose and collapsed on the end of the bed. “I thought maybe if I didn’t push her, she’d decide to stay.”

“You knew she was leaving?” Sokka failed to hold back his annoyance. “You didn’t stop her?”

“How would I stop her?” Zuko asked, truly curious, and Sokka relented. Sure, Zuko could tie her down, fight her, arrange for guards to carry her away, but that would just force her to run further and further. “What did you want me to do?”

The words fell. “Tell her you love her.”

His head quirked up, and Zuko eyed him pointedly, glare obvious and burning through the low-lit bedroom. Sokka hoped the Fire Lord failed to see the comparison. That Sokka could have done the same thing, could have showed her more how he needed her to stay, that he wanted her by his side for…for as long as he could.

“I don’t know how she’d respond to that,” Zuko said slowly. “She’s not used to feeling loved, Sokka.”

“That’s sad.”

“It is.” Zuko agreed. “Sometimes, I think she’s incapable of feeling it. It’s hard to know what my sister is thinking, and how she chooses to express herself…” His fingers unconsciously graze the side of his face.

“You both didn’t have the best of teachers.”

He sniffed, and it reminded Sokka so much of Azula that he felt his chest give way. Sokka moved to lean on Azula’s wardrobe, knees wobbly, mind tumult. Zuko was even more distressed. He pulled at his black hair and groaned, frustrated, anger vocalizing. Sokka watched his friend and though he felt the similar loss, confusion, it was still weak in comparison. If Katara were like this…if she felt that she couldn’t trust him, couldn’t stay, Sokka didn’t know how he would feel. He moved to Zuko’s side and sat next to him, laid a hand on his shoulder. Zuko exhaled. “She was right.”

Zuko often fell into himself, words hard, and Sokka nudged him in encouragement. “About?”

“I was luckier than she was. I always thought it was the reverse. She was a prodigy. Our father gave her everything.”

Sokka shook his head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t.” Zuko sighed. “Damn it. He didn’t. He pitted us against each other. We could have…this could have…”

“It’s not your fault, Zuko.”

“It feels like it is,” Zuko argued. “It feels like I lost her.”

“Hey, I found her once. Why not give me a chance to do it again?” He hoped it didn’t sound too pleading, too anxious. Sokka chomped at the bit to run out of her and find June again and bleed the Fire Nation treasury dry to locate her. She ran without telling him. Clearly, she didn’t want to be found, but Sokka tried to not take it personally. That failed spectacularly.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.” Sokka bowed his head. “Absolutely.”

“Why?” Zuko glanced at him, voice low, arms crossed. And before Sokka could explain that Zuko was his friend and he was also an older brother and Azula was a person who was hurting and he’d do that for anyone, his friend crossed his legs on the bed and tilted his head. “You love her?”

“Yes,” Sokka repeated. “Absolutely.”

The room fell quiet. There was no sign that Zuko would fall into a bending stance and burn his skin off, and Sokka allowed himself to feel a modicum of relief. He was still on edge, however; he admitted too much, probably, and there was no backtracking or explanation to what he met. The word was clear and pure and honest. Sokka flinched as the Fire Lord moved, expecting a solid punch to his jaw, but Zuko stood from the bed and adjusted his robes. His face was impassive. “She’s going to Ember Island. I’ll get you a komodo rhino.”

“Thank you.” It sounded more like a croak than anything else, and maybe he was too scared of tempting a fight anymore, so he stayed plastered on Azula’s bed. He watched Zuko carefully move to the front of the room, pace fragmented and awkward.

Zuko’s hand paused at the knob. “You know, tradition states that I need to challenge you to an Agni Kai.”

“Good thing my buddy is the Fire Lord who can overlook that.” Silence. Sokka squirmed on the bed. “Right?”

“We can use swords.” Zuko left the room without another word, and Sokka could finally feel the layer of sweat on his skin. That was something he was not looking forward to. 

Chapter Text

The doorway was layered with sand, Tai Yan’s small beach house too close to the water and too far from the main town to have any appropriate pathway. Azula looked down at it at first—it was nothing like her own home here, beautiful and abandoned. Ghosts etched in the nicks in the floor, the stains on the beaten furniture. A place she never wanted to see again.

But she was ensured it would be safe here, and the months she had stayed proved that to be true. She was a hermit, that same ghost in her as she continued to parade in the shadows of her old life. Flitting problems Zuko’s way, no more a nuisance than a mouse, and then spiriting back to this decaying shack.

Tai Yan gestured her deeper into the sitting room and immediately poured her a small cup of tea. The back of her hand went to feel Azula’s forehead, but she didn’t feel warm. “You’re hot.”

Though maybe she was.

“What do you see?”

She hesitated. Her delusions were well known to this woman, but there was still shame attached to them. And it's intensified now. She should be better. Why isn't she better? “Ursa. I see her in her old and new face. Sometimes she doesn’t remember me.” It was always worse when she did.

“What else?”

“My…brother. He…he wants me to come home.”

“You’re possessed.” Tai Yan refilled her tea cup, and Azula drank it eagerly, desperate to push these images out. They weren’t real. She knew that. She knew that now when they were gone, when the visions had already paralyzed her and made her scream in the middle of the beach. “The medicine should be working.”

Venom ripped through her. “Well, it’s not.”

“I’ll up your dosage but it should be working,” Tai Yan repeated, and it was impossible to miss the disbelief on her face, the fear that there was something deeply wrong with her.

She remembered the last time she was here and it stung like ice water or a poison rendering you immobile. It prickled through her, and her hair stood on end, her mind speeding to try and piece together a better moment. Her and the sand. Her and the waves. Volleyball and house parties and bonfires on the beach. But everything always turned to shit, didn’t it? Everything was tainted and robbed of anything golden because she…because…

This memory, perhaps, would stay golden. Pure. Immaculate. Azula fantasized how she would kill her. Slowly. Quickly. Fire or her own fists. But at the end of it all, it didn’t really matter. She had already wasted so much energy on someone so insignificant, someone who didn’t deserve an ounce of any further thought. A death was a death, and part of Azula wondered if she even deserved that much.

Ember Island smelled of salt and spices. The food stalls in the main town were open and still filled with tourists despite the latter time of day. Zuko would always complain in line, always plead and beg for more portions because he was such a little brat. Azula knew she would be gifted more with her silence, with her wide smile and good manners because that was how the Royal Family was supposed to act in public.

Lies.

A façade. Her whole entire life was a performance, an act on who she should be and what she should do, but this? This moment was completely hers. Broad daylight. Dressed in red and hair tightly worn in a bun. She wished she had brought her crown. There was no point in hiding. She wanted to be found.

She stopped at one of the food stalls and ordered a skewer of roasted duck, the skin charred and crisped and brushed with fire flakes. She thanked the owner openly, gave him ten times the amount the stick was worth, and practically hummed her way to the center of the resort town.

It was not long after that she started to notice the whispers, and while she remembered the giggles and brimming excitement Sokka had received in the Northern Water Tribe, this was much different. Harsh, low, almost malicious. No matter. She’d just play along.

Azula finished her skewer, satiated, and approached the large, circular fountain in the center of the pathway. The rim of the lower edge was thin, but she needed even more attention, more height. The whispering intensified, and tourists and the few local citizens paused on the street and looked at her, asking muffled questions.

Who was she. What was she doing. Didn’t she look like…

“I’m looking for a sadistic, monster of a woman.” Her voice carried through the crowd, and every person who attempted to look busy or walk pass her before stopped and stared. Azula let her smile slip on. “Can anyone tell me where Tai Yan is?

The people around her were silent, unbending to their princess. Not surprising. She could always go back to Tai Yan’s home, wait for the woman to come back from her day pretending to be a normal citizen. Some innocent woman who gushed and promised and cared when in reality she was just a worm, wriggling, pleading to be squashed.

“Am I not being explicit?” She raised a hand, blue fire engulfing before she flung it into the tiered fountain. The water hissed, steam fluming around the crowd. Couples clung together. Children were dragged by their wrists and arms back to their mothers. “My name is Princess Azula, and I command one of you to tell me where Tai Yan is before I smoke her out of this saccharine village.”

She danced a flame across her fingers, balancing around the edge of the fountain as if she were walking on a circular tightrope. The crowds moved back as she approached them. Nervous. Fearful. Good.

“Princess Azula!”

“How could you ever become Fire Lord again in this state?”

She was sick, aching, vomit and specks of blood on her lips. Her core felt like acid had been flushed through her, but Tai Yan knelt next to her, cooing. A cold wash cloth melted against her forehead, and she exhaled from the relief, almost moaning.

“I’ll have to lower your dosage. This is making you too sick.”

Azula barely registered Tai Yan’s voice. The anxiety had persisted. The visions jutting in and out. Sometimes when she remembered something terrible or was over stimulated or asked or saw too much.

Like Zirin. Dead. The smell still wracked her, stamped, and she couldn’t believe this was happening now. Just when she was starting to convince them to leave Zuko alone, that the nation couldn’t take another coup.

And then Tai Yan’s words ripped through her, stronger than any sword or dagger or shard of ice. Azula cleared her throat. “I don’t want to be Fire Lord.”

The wash cloth was dipped again in the bowl of ice water and back on her forehead. Beads dripped messily against her temple and onto the pillow. “Now, now. You’re delirious.”

“I thought this…this medicine was supposed to make me stable.” Azula flexed her wrist, counted the number of Kemurikage surrounding the room. Four people visible. Three attempting to hide. Why were they doing that? “I thought you were trying to help me.”

Tai Yan laughed, forced and too high-pitched. “I’m getting you a crown.”

That wasn’t the same. That wasn’t the same at all. Her breathing spiked, and she attempted to massage it down. She couldn’t panic here, call her out. No, no. She was too weak to fight eight people, and if she lost…if she lost…

She nodded instead, the full act of the good girl. Perfection even in her own bile. “And Zuko?”

Tai Yan looked shocked that she would even ask, deign to care. The woman smoothed out a greying piece of hair and stood to her full height. “An ending worthy of a prince.”

That bitch was here and still breathing, and Azula could tear her to shreds in an instant. She should do it. No room for speeches or begs of forgiveness. She was a better tactician than that, but there was something holding her to the fountain, stopping her from moving. She extinguished the flame in her head, teeth bared. “Why thank you for coming out, Tai Yan. What a pleasure to see you again.”

“What are you doing!” Her voice was pleading, quaking, and vulnerable, and of course she would die a victim, die in her deluded state that she was setting the world right. That her and her family deserved to be scrubbed from this earth, a chapter or footnote in some terribly inconsistent textbook.

And yes, maybe her father did. Maybe she did too. But not Zuko. He wouldn’t let that happen.

The crowds were moving away quickly, and Azula glanced to see them replaced with Fire Nation soldiers. Some of them benders, none of them a threat. Azula ignored them and balanced on one leg, steepling her hands. “How is Ember Island? I’m sorry I left so suddenly.”

A guard, most likely the captain, stepped forward. “Princess Azula, by order of the Treaty of Gaoling…”

“What is this treaty? Can I read it? It seems to mention me a lot.”

“Princess Azula…”

Tai Yan stepped forward, a hand across the guard’s chest. Hair wrapped, clothes loose, basket filled with medicinal herbs. She looked positively neutered. “She’s here for me. Let me speak with…”

“Ma’am, we can’t allow you to…”

Azula yawned, lowered her leg down. “This is too much talking.”

It was a simple punch, the most basic of techniques, the first a budding firebender would ever properly accomplish. Azula could execute that blue flame flawlessly thousands and thousands of times over, and it was enough—more than enough—to ensure Tai Yan would be dead and melting.  

Only instead there was another hiss of steam, a wall of water protecting Tai Yan from the flame’s impact. Azula immediately thought of Katara, that her idiot of a brother had told them of her plans and now the gang was all here to ruin them.

And though yes, water was an effective shield to her fire, Azula bent in a different shape, fingers extended, flushed, ready until she was pulled from the fountain altogether, water tying her by the ankles and flinging her to the center of the crowd. Azula felt her shoulder hit too harshly, rough. This wasn't Katara. She coughed from the impact, and the tourists were screaming now, scattering, to reveal white and black masks glistening in the sun.

The Fire Nation guards were confused, crippled by not knowing who the right enemy was. There were two waterbenders helping Tai Yan, two roping together a new weapon towards her, and Azula cursed at the realization that this was no small insurgency.

She caught her breath on the ground, the surprise more than the strength winding her. The guards had resorted to trying to calm down Tai Yan, still yelping complete innocence. But that would only be temporary. Azula could take two waterbenders. She was well-trained, focused, and better than them. It would be a matter of minutes.

She stayed on her back and braced for the impact of water, for the threat of sweating ice somehow crafted in this heat. The sun glinted in her eyes, partially blinding, until something else, something large, blocked it from her vision.

An earthbender?

Pebbles dotted across her face, debris falling at the piece of removed earth, and this was an impact she could not brace. She pulled her fingers to her chest, triggering her own lightning, hoping it would be enough, powerful and quick to…

Azula groaned as she was dragged away by her hair then arm, skin on her calves peeling and bleeding as her pants pulled up her body. She shouted, hit the Kemurikage attacking her, even as the boulder fell seconds away from her, still grazing the edge of her heel. The pressure on her loosened, and she spun around, hair flying, ready to drag the animal right back when his face stopped her. Dressed in red. Hair still long and eyes frightened by her anger.

“Sokka?”

He ignored her and drew the sword from his back, and his presence, his celebrity, spurred the Fire Nation guards to action. The waterbenders were easily overwhelmed, hogtied and demasked though Azula did not recognize them. The earthbender fared better. Rock after rock was flurried towards Sokka, but he managed to dip and slice his way through, unscathed for now.

Azula ignored what could only be adoration blooming in her chest.

She turned instead to Tai Yan, a bystander in this chaos. A firebender herself, she attempted to send a flame Azula’s way, but the princes sidestepped it easily and fell into a back stance. “Now how did you think this would go?” The blue fire licked to life in her hand. “I’m so curious how you ever thought you could win.”

 “You’re evil.”

Azula shrugged. “At least I’m not dead.”

The flame released quickly, brilliantly, and collided into a puff of smoke and ash rock. She was encased in earth, ten feet high, stone pathways of Ember Island uprooted and raining down in sudden hail. “Azula!” Sokka was here with her, the circular, stone prison large enough to ensnare them and a few of the Fire Nation guards. Sokka was oblivious to them, that or uncaring as he gripped her shoulders, pulled her into his chest, the lack of sunlight casting a grey shadow on his face. “What are you doing!”

She didn’t answer and pushed herself off him. “She’s getting away.” Azula released a crack of lightning, and the rock exploded in front of them, newly formed arch quickly caving in. Azula started to crawl over the demolished wall, careful with her scraped heel when she felt Sokka drag her back to him again.

“Stop it.”

“Let me go, Sokka.” She attempted to move forward again, to crawl hands and knees and sprint as far as she could away from him. “You have to let me go.”

“We’ll get her later.”

His weak voice had her turning. His sword was discarded and bent at an odd angle, and deep bruises lined his collarbones. Sokka noticed her stare and thumbed the blood on his lips. “I’m not really prepared to back you up.”

“Then don’t.”

“Azula.”

“Why are you here?” She faced him completely, and the Fire Nation guards shirked back at her tone. Sokka only took a step forward. “Why did Zuko send you here?”

He flinched as he touched a bruise on his neck. “Isn’t it obvious? We want to help you.”

She fell speechless at that. Shoulders collapsing, chest heaving, and all this locked up stress and worry and pure rage just poured out of her in tears. Azula dropped to her knees, covering her face with her hair at the off chance Sokka wouldn’t notice how broken she was. How five stupid words, words she had heard before, could reduce her to…to…

Sokka knelt in front of her and edged her chin up, her cheek against his chest. His heart rate quickened, and she never felt this before. Heart weak. Head light-headed. Completely overwhelmed by the heat of his skin, the silk of his hair, the feel of his lips as they grazed her forehead. She sniffed and then pretended she had never cried at all as she thumbed his collar. “You look good in red.”

He laughed and moved a bang back before slowly helping her stand. Sokka rubbed her arms, wiped a tear away with his thumb, and Azula leaned in to kiss him. She could taste the saltiness from her own eyes, but mostly she felt how easily Sokka leaned into it, his body hard but pliant in front of her.

A cough. Two coughs.

Sokka broke away and saluted the Fire Nation guards still holding the two imprisoned Kemurikage. “It, uh, it seems you have that handled. We’ll…we’ll want those two transported to the caldera for formal questioning.”

The guards blinked and looked to Azula. Sokka half-laughed. “Oh, well, uh. I’ll accompany her back to Fire Lord Zuko. You know…Treaty of Gaoling and all.”

Azula rolled her eyes.

“Sir, your injuries.” The guard captain bowed more formally as he approached. “You may want to get those checked out before you travel. Make sure nothing is punctured.”

“Ah, I will.” He slipped his hand into hers, laced and warm and causing Azula to blush. “Thank you.”

“Those men…” Azula started as they passed through the rubble of the town center, layers of rock missing from the earth. The streets were no longer filled with tourists. “…report to my brother.”

Sokka nodded. His throat still sounded sore. “And?”

“And?” She lifted their joined hands.

“Oh, don’t worry. He already knows about that.”

Azula stopped short. “He what?”

“He knows that I love you.” And it was the way he said it. Cavalier. Offhand. As if this was something he had said before, a given that she should be entirely aware of. Lightning seemed to shoot up his spine, and Sokka, face entirely flushed and bruised, took her other hand. “You know that, don’t you?”

She was rattled. He…he… “Why would I just assume that?”

“Because I told you.”

“When!”

“At dinner?”

“No, you didn’t!”

“I did! I mouthed it to you.” He nodded, satisfied, that smug grin lighting his cheeks and eyes. It was a constant battle whether Azula felt like kissing or hitting him.

“Mouthed it to me?” Azula felt warm, a glow enveloped her chest. It was similar to the stoke of fire in her chi, this listless, powerful energy that made her brim with confidence, with happiness. She found it harder and harder to breathe. “You told me you loved me by mouthing it to me and you expect that to count?”

His grin didn’t fall. “Yeah.”

“Well, it doesn’t.”

“I love you,” he repeated, and it was forceful, unembarrassed, sincere. Her ears skimmed for the lie baked into his words, any sign of deceit, but it wasn’t there. No flinch. No break in eye contact. No strange intonation or tone. Just those words. Just Sokka. He flicked the tip of her nose. “Does it count now?”

Chapter Text

The healer, who was luckily not Tai Yan and hopefully had no association, ordered bedrest for the night and painkillers for the remaining hours of the day.

“We should stay the night,” Azula was disheartened to say.

He was still pissed that he had been so clumsy against that earthbender. No night’s sleep and too much worry clearly didn’t bring out the best in him. Sokka cracked his neck as he followed Azula down the ruined street. There was a levity from his confession, but Azula still hung onto him, hair now loose, blood and skin patted clean and bandaged. “I’m sorry about that.”

Her grip on him tightened. “My house is…”

“Wait, wait.” Sokka stopped so that she would face him. “We’re not going to your old house.”

“We can’t go to Lo and Li’s.” Azula avoided his eyes. “And it’s just for the night.”

“We’ll go to an inn. If I remember right, there was one next to that theater.”

“It’s fine.” Azula tugged on him, and the way she wrapped her hand on his wrist, kept her voice firm and clipped, implied that there was no other option. And Sokka was already too thrown by everything to try and disagree with her now. What people that left the streets during the fight had returned to see the aftermath, the singed shell of rock and uplifted earth. And them. They had clearly come to see them, and though Sokka was used to stares and loud, excited whispers, it was different standing side-by-side with Azula.

Wherever he went, he had never been feared. He never felt someone flinch as he walked by, soft tones edged and dipped with a venom that was both cold and potent. The worst of it was, it didn’t seem to bother her. She was used to this notoriety, this unbelievable hatred, and Sokka felt his face grow harder, the high of announcing his feelings evaporating into something protective and stalwart. “Are you okay?”

She wasn’t. Her non-answer was enough for him, better than a lie, and Azula pursed her lips before leading him up and out of the town to the hills that overlooked the beach and ocean. The houses were growing in size and isolation, trees and shrubbery grown tall to block any first-floor windows. It was another few minutes before they reached the end of the pathway, to a house almost double the size of any other on the hills, separate and seeming to lean over the edge of the cliff. It was beautiful, a small echo of the much more formal palace, and Azula glanced up to him, as if his reaction would be anything but completely impressed.

“There’s a key hidden in the front garden.” She left him briefly on the outside porch, and his eyes traced the vaulted underside of the roof. The wood was wet, softer than anything he would have ever encountered in the south, and the sheer frivolity of the red paint and gold leaf used to stun him before long days and hot nights in the Caldera itself. He was still somewhat amazed by it, but Azula barely even seemed to notice, her own feelings storming behind her eyes even when she returned with a small, grey key in her hand.

And though the emotion was familiar, it took Sokka until they were in the foyer to recognize it. “You’re pissed.”

She flinched, and he was dead on. She was mad, furious, and the avoidant eye contact and the coldness of her made him realize she was pissed at him. There was a large, gold framed mirror in the dark foyer. Azula flicked the hanging lanterns on with a finger of blue flame and looked at herself, shrinking as she seemed to notice Sokka in the corner of her framed reflection. “Zuko’s bedroom is the second to last when you turn right up the stairs.” She gestured to the large wooden staircase behind them, as if Sokka could have missed it, as if everything in this house wasn’t full-on grandeur and shows of wealth and power. “You can rest there.”

Yeah, okay. He was definitely just going to do that. “Why are you mad at me?”

Her lips were a tight line, lipstick smudged and uneven despite her trying to wipe it in the mirror. Sokka itched to do it for her but held back. Azula, despite her caged frustration, touched his face instead, the dried blood on his arm, the cuts on his cheek. The gold in her eyes seemed to crack. “Do you think this was romantic?”

Her tone was vitriol, dichotomous to how she was touching him, the feel of her breath on his skin. Sokka didn’t know how to react. And his heart hurt, his confession still alive and fluttering small in his chest. The nervousness crept through him, the need to close his eyes and cross his arms and back away because he had said he loved her and she had said nothing.

Not that he was expecting anything. Not that she had to love him right now. He knew that it could take longer, that just because he was there and ready didn’t mean that she was and that was okay. That was okay even though it didn’t really feel it.

He felt raw and vulnerable, naked and truly frightened of her for the first time in a while but in a completely different way. His confidence waned, and Azula seemed to mirror it, dripping back and walking from the foyer and deeper into the dark, dusty home.

This must have been hard for her. The walls were littered with paintings, of wealth and luxury, yes, but also an old life. A family that was perhaps always jagged and imperfect but at one time attempted to be whole. It was strange to think that the Royal Family would be the type to go on vacations—Ozai on the beach, Ursa beside him. Iroh building sand castles with Zuko, and Azula most likely jealous and thrashing it down. He could see it easily in his head, made up memories with a tinge of rosiness because he was too afraid to ask about the real ones.

Azula patted out a red, silk zabuton, and dust flied around them. She didn’t offer to do the same for Sokka but simply sat down to meditate. The room was still dark. The wooden blinds were closed, and Sokka opened between a layer to see the sun start to set. The room was angled away from the cliff, towards the jungle of trees and bushes more common in the rural, non-purely volcanic areas of the Fire Nation. Birds still sung outside, and he found it peaceful, a vocal salve to his growing ulcer.

“You didn’t answer me.”

He turned from the window, but Azula didn’t approach him. Her eyes were still closed, but her fingers were tense on her knees, posture too straight to be relaxed. Sokka stayed away from her, arms crossed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Do you think I should appreciate what you did?” Her anger was loosening, slowing seeping through her teeth. Her eyes flashed open. “Do you think I was waiting for you to save me?”

He held back the resentment, the you needed me to save you that would cause her to be all rage and fire. He didn’t want to be petty with her. He didn’t want her appreciation. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“I left you for a reason.”

Shit. He knew that. He knew that she just cut and run and weren’t they supposed to be partners? The dammed pettiness dripped from his own lips, embarrassment flooding. “Well, you failed to mention that reason to me, so sorry if I didn’t get it.”

That seemed to goad her. Azula stood from lotus and approached him, face still unreadable beyond the light veil of anger. “I could have killed you on the day of Black Sun.”

What did that have to do with anything? Sokka leaned back on the wall between the windows as Azula stepped closer, arms bridging him, their positions a reversal of that very day. Sokka tipped his head, licked his lips. He was dehydrated and tired but didn’t dare leave this conversation. “I knew that.”

She sniffed. “Of course, you did. You just…you just attacked me and for what?” She tipped her head down, loose hair falling over her face. “For her?”

The question confused him, and the lingering fear started to dissipate from his gut. He arched his back, hitting her chest and causing Azula to look at him. The connection was like flint and steel. “You don’t have to worry about Suki.”

Azula shook her head. “I’m worried about you, you idiot.”

She leaned in and kissed him, hard and desperate, the anger fully released into a hunger and power Sokka forgot how much he craved from her. Azula fell against him, small, muscled frame leaning into him, clawing at him as he held her cheeks, moved back the piece of black bang lining both of their lips. He laughed at the foreign texture, but she was still so serious. Still so nervous and anxious even as he poured himself open to her, hand straying down to the small of her back to remove any millimeter of space between them. She gasped a bit at the contact, the exhale hitting him straight on, and he needed her even more. Tunic off. Hair down. Her desperate and sweaty and clinging to him.

And it was a need that made him willing to forget that she was maybe still mad at him, that what she was trying to say was that he shouldn’t have done that for her. That he was running head first into danger and she didn’t think she was worth it. Clearly his words weren’t enough, but maybe he could prove it to her in a different way. Maybe, despite her wit and their banter and her proclamations of power, Azula needed something tangible.

There was a brief, too early thought of a necklace in his head, but he was distracted again by the itch of her nails under his red shirt, her lips hot against his cheek as they broke. “I really do like you in red.”

“People really should stop color-coding based on nationality.”

“Red dye just happens to be…”

He didn’t want to talk, as much as he enjoyed how her mind ticked and surged when it was healthy, he didn’t want to talk at all, and instead removed the tunic from his head, tossing it to the side and letting his back flush cold against the hard wood of the wall behind him. She raked his skin, fingers hot enough that he thought maybe she was bending. And in the back of his mind, he knew his body was tired from what they had just done, but he willed it away as she kissed his jawline. “That’s even better.”

His waning confidence inflated again, bursting as he understood that this, somehow, was easier for her. Something that made him hesitate and question, an act that solidified his seriousness more than a simple word could. Sokka lifted her chin, kissed her softly but long. “Should we go somewhere else?”

Azula looked at him, red, hair already frizzed and ruined and he wanted to unravel her even more. “I rather avoid any other memory right now.” She traced the lines of his cheek and undid his hair. She smoothed through it, eyes heavy on him, mouth opening and closing as she struggled for the right words. “It’ll just remind me that I don’t deserve you.”

His grip on her clenched, head and mind still cloudy and even more confused. “You can’t make that call.”

She seemed entranced by his hair, his skin. The calloused feel of her fingers and palms spread over the bruises on his collar bone. “And why not? Don’t I know myself best?”

“I love you.” He kissed her forehead, an act gentle through the burning heat. “Don’t I deserve to be with someone I love?”

There was a divide in her features, a fierceness that vanished completely as she looked up to him again. And she was fighting for a while, conflicted with herself before she calmly said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He swallowed, not sure if he heard her correctly at all. There was a heaviness to the word, an assuredness, but Sokka didn’t mean it that way. He didn’t mean to suggest anything or pressure her even if…

“Okay.” She drew a line between his chest with a finger, and he froze, paralytic. Azula smirked. “This is a tell-me-what-to-do moment, Sokka.”

The memory sparked. He could absolutely do that. Sokka’s breath struggled to leave his body. “Just relax.” His own anxiety was ironic and noticed.

She raised an eyebrow and moved her hands up and down his shoulders. “And?”

“And…” Sokka swallowed again, attempting to empty the lump in his throat. “Take off your clothes.”

Azula smiled and dragged her front teeth across her bottom lip before complying. The action loosened her hair more, and Sokka moved up to undo it for her, tossing the red tie somewhere (who cared?) in the room. Her wraps were still tightly wound against her breast, and he could see the bloom of purple and blue bruises lining her ribcage and upper arms. His own body was similar, scarred with new and old wounds, and it was strange, probably, that it made him want her more. Unperfect and injured. Battle-weary but still here and ready for him.

Spirits, he was a little messed up, wasn’t he?

Sokka moved to unwrap her, but Azula hit him away to do it herself. Slowly, meticulously, and Sokka realized that even though he was telling her what to do, he was no way in control. He was an idiot.

But a lucky one. A blessed, fortunate idiot to be standing there across the Fire Nation princess, bared and self-assured and blushing down to her collarbone for him. He thought that she would be shier, that this moment, if it ever were to happen, would take careful ministrations and easy words. But Azula only shivered once and directed a flame to the hearth behind them both, causing her pale body to look almost blue in the firelight.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry at all. Her thumbs toyed with her waistline, and did she know how provocative she was? How ever action and lilt of her voice and face were little teases winding him too taut? “I was cold.”

“Don’t apologize.” He couldn’t help but glance away from her face, the soft looking skin of her stomach as her thumb glided across her belly button. “That was hot.”

She glowed, and it looked softer, more sincere than whatever game she was playing. Azula wrapped her arms around his neck, soft breasts against him and his hammering heart as she kissed him. And she let him push more against her, let him maneuver her head and lips and tongue with his own. His hands undid the tie of her pants and pushed them down her legs. She was relinquishing control to him, trusting him, and he moved his hands to her hips delicately, slowing his kisses so that each one ached when they parted.

Azula kept her hands around his neck. Her fingers massaged against the nape, still tangled in his hair as he undid his own pants and stepped out of them clumsily. She was more graceful in just her underclothes, though that expected timidity seemed to rush through her when Sokka moved to remove his. She watched him, half-nervous, half-eager, and he managed to break away from her and her body to look at the room around him.

He wanted to do this right, and the dusty sitting room of her broken family’s summer home didn’t seem perfect. There were pillows on the floor, an old low-seated couch and tea table, but little else. Everything was covered with dust, and Azula sighed. “Fine. Give me a moment.”

She ran off, and the loss of her made Sokka’s nakedness and attraction even more stark. Though Azula left little time for him to think about it, for the heat between them to fade as she came back with a white futon wrapped in a batik cover. “It’s clean.” She unwrapped the bedding and laid it on the floor. “You’re such a princess.”

“Do you have a blanket too?”

Azula removed her remaining clothes, which sent a hot surge though him and appropriately shut him up. She knelt on the futon, hands on her knees, black hair draped over to one side as her fire cooled to something orange and red, casting the curve of her body in shadow.

Shit.

He was too ready for her, and that wouldn’t do them any good. Sokka tried to prime his thoughts, to stop thinking about how much he wanted her and wanted her soon because she was not there yet. She must have noticed the distorted look on his face, and her eyes scanned him up and down, hovering over his groin. “Are you okay?”

Should he be insulted? He let the thought simmer in an attempt to cool himself down. It was barely successful. He let out a long, deep exhale and knelt across from her. “Lay down on your back.”

She was slower to respond this time, perhaps both of their nakedness starting to dawn on her. A new dynamic. A strategy she was completely entrusting to him. Sokka knelt beside her and kissed her delicately. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.” And good, she still seemed excited. He started with her neck, her arms, her collarbone—familiar places to ease her before moving to her breasts. He kneaded them firmly, too appreciative at the feel of the soft skin, and Azula’s breath hurried, upper stomach hitting his forearm as she pulled him down to kiss her. He was buzzed with the sensation, of her hot and wanting and soft and malleable, and Sokka forgot for a moment to take this slowly and mounted her. Azula paused in her kissing and glanced to where his bare penis hit her leg.

Sokka shimmied himself so his lower half didn’t touch her. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” She raised on her elbows to kiss his nose. “That was hot.”

Shit. He almost breathed it out this time, the need to take it slow growing impossible with her under him, baiting him and his blood being drained to below his waist. Sokka moved to kiss her stomach, tracing the lines of her abdomen with his tongue, thumbs following the same path as she squirmed. Her skin was heated, but her concentration was too shattered looking for it to be from bending. It was just her own temperature, her own core churning and wild for him.

“Shit.”

He was surprised to hear that word come from Azula, breathless and grasping at his hair as Sokka moved her legs apart and traced her hipbones with his fingers then lips. He circled the softer skin, the damage from the ostrich horse long healed by now, and he was careful, unhurried to run them up and down her inner thigh. Left then right and higher until she writhed.

Her breathing was ragged, and the sound itself made him too hard to actually look up at her. He concentrated on his current action. Up and down. Skin velvet and prickling under him. The taste of sweat and heat on his tongue. She seemed to sway her hips in time with him, and he looked at his own hand trailing up her leg when he asked, “Can I keep going?”

Her hands left his hair, and he looked up to see one arm crossed over her eyes and the other on her collarbone. He waited for her frustrated grunt, for the forceful snap in her tone to say, “Yes!”

He fed off her eagerness, of her body moving under him in anticipation as he stroked the front of her, teasing. She was already warm, already wet, and he kept his thumb firm on the tiny knub as he slid a finger inside her. Azula tensed, and he could feel it instantly, retreating back a bit and moving his left hand to the bottom of her abdomen. “You okay?”

She nodded, breath still harried. “Yes.”

He took her at her word and pressed into her again, curving downwards, moving up to his knuckle as she relaxed from the pressure. The exhale leaving her body had him glance up to her. She was watching him with unbridled need, mouth pouted open, and it physically hurt to look at her. He moved to touch her again, but Azula reached down to press her hand over his own, not caring for her own wetness. “Sokka…”

“You’re…”

“I am.” She nodded, eyes boring into his. “I’m ready.”

He didn’t question her. As much as he wanted to continue to loosen her, prepare her, he wouldn’t last much longer, and the look on her face at his hesitance was laced with annoyance. He fell into a plank over her, muscles aching, and kissed her again, deep and rough, catching her dwindling breath as he lowered himself. The pressure was firm, immediate, encasing him in a tightness that was hard to go through. Azula immediately tensed under him, grabbed his shoulders, and dragged her face into his neck.

And he wanted to push more, deeper, the overwhelming sensation of warmth and pulsing muscle dragging him closer and closer to pinning her completely. But he waited, sensitive to her grip on his shoulder blades, the thin breath on his neck. Sokka kissed the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She nodded but didn’t speak, and he moved his hand through her hair, struggling to keep his own body collected, the pooling warmth in his groin almost making him spill over. “Breathe, Azula.”

She did. He felt her chest rise and fall under him, her hips relax and open as she pushed against him more, nails biting, dragging as he gained permission to push in and out, a little deeper, faster, until he was slick and tired and breathless.

It was quick and messy—Sokka was already exhausted and he hit his arm on the table, the futon twisting as he collapsed next to her, feeling a weird mix of satisfied and embarrassed. Azula was motionless, hand edging to where Sokka had left her, and he flushed to think she was wanting, that he should be doing something else instead of laying here dehydrated and too tired.

She moved up to her forearm and leaned over him, black hair draping over her. She smoothed his away from his face and rested her cheek on his chest, quiet for a while, the rhythm of her breath easing lower as she kept a hand over his heart. “I’m afraid of needing you.” Her voice was sore, cracked.

“You don’t need me.” Sokka pulled her closer, hand cradling her hips, the afterglow vibrating in him, though the words were strange to say to a lover. “You’d be fine.”

There was resistance there, but then he felt something warm and wet against his skin, the rising of her chest smooth and rocking him as she spoke. “Thank you.”