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If not for Zuzu’s incessant letters practically begging her to go, Azula would never have set foot on the cruiser, let alone the dock of the Southern Water Tribe harbor. She’s old, her body treacherously rickety and the snowstorm that rages against the cast iron plating of the ship feels like it could quite possibly be the death of her. She would’ve never agreed, but Zuko had already taught the Avatar once before, after all; and he had assured her he had more pressing matters to attend to. Azula exhales harshly as she steps onto the gangway, artificially warming her body with just her breath. The corner of her mouth pulls upwards as she hears the sizzling of the snow underneath her boot.

Katara is waiting for her on the quay, seemingly untouched by the harsh weather. “Hello, Azula. I hope you had a good trip,” she says, politely. After more than sixty years, it’s been a long time since they were last enemies; still, there’s not much love lost between the two women.

“Katara,” Azula greets, nodding at her. “You look…” Old, just like her. The lines on Katara’s face had deepened since they’d last met, a little over fifteen years ago.

“Thank you for agreeing to come,” Katara continues, unphased by the lapse in conversation.

“Of course,” Azula answers, coolly but not unkindly. “Anything for the young Avatar. That and the fact that Zuko wouldn’t stop asking.” Katara chuckles as she turns around.

“Even from the other side of the world, he wants to help,” she says, shaking her head a little. Azula falls into step with her as they walk away from the ship.

“I don’t think he could help himself if he wanted to,” she remarks. The wind is harsh against her cheeks and her Fire Nation coat. Although it’s thick and lined with koala sheep wool, she’d have to ask Katara to lend her a warmer coat for the duration of her stay here. “Still, I’m surprised he was so insistent on the matter at all. Is the Avatar’s current teacher not adequate?”

“Sifu Haejin is a fine master,” Katara says. “However, Zuko and I both agree that he has reached his limit.”

“Or rather, the Avatar has met her limit,” Azula replies.

Katara gives her a look. “Korra still has a ways to go. She just a little rough around the edges—I’ve spoken about this at length with Haejin and Zuko. We agreed she needs a teacher that connects with her better. She’s very talented, she would benefit greatly from being taught by the greatest firebender of our generation.”

That makes Azula chuckle. “I’m flattered. Still not convinced I’m the best person for the job, though.”

“You will do great,” Katara says. “You were always good with Aang.”

“That’s hardly the same thing,” Azula mutters under her breath. Her friendship with the previous Avatar had been unexpected but profound, a bond she had carefully constructed and managed over the years, and appreciated for as long as fate had allowed it. This Avatar was a different person entirely, not to mention still a child.

They’ve stopped in front of the imposing compound gates. The two White Lotus sentries stationed out front give the sign to open them and lead them inside the high ice walls. Aang, Katara and the rest of them have done a fine job of it: the place seems sufficiently fortified, as well equipped to keep people out as keeping them in. Several watchtowers look down on the barracks, the healing hut and a raised platform of ice near the back, which is probably meant to serve as their training space.

Azula grimaces, the wrinkles in her face moving into their regular position. It’s a fine icy prison, her home for the foreseeable future.

“Sifu Katara!” comes a shouting voice and as Azula turns around, she sees a girl barreling towards them, her arm raised in greeting.

“Korra,” Katara greets her with a fond smile. “This is Azula, the Fire Lord’s sister and one of Avatar Aang’s oldest friends. As you know, she will be taking over from Sifu Haejin.”

Azula briefly wonders how Katara manages to speak of her husband and Zuko so formally. She supposes it must come easier after fifteen years of knowing and teaching the new Avatar; Korra, who is looking up at her reverently.

Bringing her hands together for the traditional Fire Nation greeting, Azula bows before the child. “Avatar Korra,” she says, politely. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Sifu Azula,” Korra replies as she quickly returns the bow, her wolf tail bouncing as she does. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Nothing good, I would assume,” Azula says, smirking. Korra’s smile turns into an uneasy grimace and she fidgets with her hands.

“…It’s nothing too bad,” she says. The girl pauses, her blue eyes gaining a twinkle. “Any way you look at it, you’re still the best firebender ever.”

A hearty chuckle escapes Azula’s throat. Even after hearing them throughout her life, praises for her bending still managed to lift her spirits like they did when she was still a child, performing her forms perfectly for her father and grandfather. “Well then,” she says as she turns towards the training platform. “Why don’t you show me how the new Avatar holds up against ‘the best firebender ever’?”

Korra grins and all but takes off, 15 years old and brimming with energy. “Let’s do it!”

1

“I will be testing your general forms and skills,” Azula starts, as she takes her position on the platform, “I believe you’ve already studied them thoroughly under your previous master.” She takes off her red coat in order to be able to move more freely, immediately regretting it once the cold wind pierces the robes she’s wearing underneath. With a thud, it drops into the freshly fallen snow. Azula takes a deep breath, simultaneously warming and focusing her body. “Whenever you’re ready, Avatar.”

With her fifteen years of age, Korra stands at about the same height as Azula, but the princess knows she’s magnificently outclassed by the Avatar’s speed and nimbleness. By her age, I’d already sacked Ba Sing Se, Azula thinks to herself with a crude smirk. Then, Korra takes off.

She starts with a plethora of offensive moves: approaching the old woman with kicks and punches, rhythmically alternating them with spinning moves that create powerful arches of fire. Azula moves like an airbender, embracing negative jing by taking her body out of range with controlled little steps and subtle movements. She finally engages by blocking Korra’s fist, effectively extinguishing the stream of fire the girl was about to shoot at her, and follows through by sweeping Korra legs out from under her with one swift kick.

The Avatar lands on her butt with a pout. “Not bad,” Azula mutters, as she turns and assumes her original position. “Though it could be improved upon. Show me your daggers.”

“Yes, Sifu Azula,” Korra says as she jumps back to her feet and balls her fists, with small but powerful jets of fire bursting from her hands. It actually feels kind of nice, to be called ‘master’. She can see how Katara has managed to stay motivated to teach generations of waterbenders all these years. Azula raises her hands, ready to receive the next attack.

It must be Aang’s influence on her, Azula thinks as she once again twirls around, easily settling into the evasive maneuvers. It’s been a long time since she last sparred with someone, let alone fight someone seriously. It’s been even longer since she utterly dominated someone. Her tendency to avoid rather than attack, the airbender-esque sidestepping and ducking she is doing now could very well have been the product of their friendship. No matter how or why Azula’s fighting style has changed, it seems to frustrate Korra—who already balances precariously between technique and brute strength—endlessly and causes her to become increasingly sloppy.

“Focus,” Azula demands as she steps out of the way of another charge. Korra, stuck in her forward momentum, rushes past her and receives a stern blow to her exposed back as a penalty. She grunts as she slides through the snow, immediately getting back to her feet. Azula smirks; the girl’s tenacity is certainly a good quality. “Alright. Show me your fire whip.”

They get through the basics fairly quickly. Korra busts out every weapon in her arsenal: whirling kicks, powerful punches, circles, daggers, fireballs, whips and streams of fire, each attack burning fiercer than the last. After a while, most of the snow on the platform has melted, showing the wood paneling underneath.

Azula has seen it all before. The Avatar, though doubtlessly a firebending prodigy, is nothing new. Korra is a ruthlessly efficient bender, who relies just as much on brute strength and raw power as she does on technique. The main aspect of her fighting style that Azula notices is that she likes to get up close and personal. “Let’s switch,” Azula says, during a brief interlude in their sparring session, as Korra is catching her breath. A mean grin slides in place. “Now, I attack you.”

Korra’s eyes widen—out of surprise, or out of respect, because she knows that even at 81, Azula is one of the best firebenders under the sun. Maybe out of fear. There’s never been a way to tell, really.

With well-aimed jabs in Korra’s many openings, Azula forces the young Avatar to step back and perform a range of defensive moves. As Korra moves further backwards to create space for herself, Azula lifts her leg and creates an arc of fire. Korra takes the azure flames head on, smoothly cutting through the arc and letting it ricochet off of her arms as she changes its direction. She steps back even more and now there’s some space between them, so Azula brings her hands together and focuses her fire at the tips of her pointed index and middle fingers. It charges for only a moment before she lets go, engulfing the Avatar in blue fire.

It lasts a brief instant, a true baptism by fire of which Korra emerges victorious, having successfully shielded herself from the blaze with her own firebending. Azula regards her approvingly as she walks back towards the middle of the platform. “Thank you, Avatar. That will be all for today.”

Korra pouts, clearly ready to keep having at it, in spite of her heavy breathing. “How did I do?”

“Adequate,” Azula says, keeping her expression in check. The young girl’s eyes just widen, more determined than before.

“Can we spar again tomorrow?”

Azula scoffs. “Definitely not,” she says, before turning around and making her way off the platform. “If I keep this up I won’t make it to winter.”

“Oh.” Korra embodies the disappointment she feels, immediately hanging her head and dragging her boots through the snow as they walk back to the barracks. “Will you at least teach me that attack you did at the end, Sifu?”

A chuckle escapes Azula’s throat. Being called that was doubtlessly going to take a while to get used to. “Of course, Avatar.”

They take a short break. Korra introduces her to the Southern Watertribe delicacy of five-flavor soup in the dining hall. Afterwards, in the last light before day’s end, Azula teaches her how to bundle her chi in the palm of her hand, effectively supercharging her attack to the point where just one burst of her fire can melt through a thick pillar of ice.

2

The sun already sits high in the sky on the day of their second lesson, a week later. No matter how badly she had wanted to focus fully on her firebending, Korra still has to go to her earthbending training sessions, not to mention the classes on world history that bore her to no end.

Master Azula has been a welcome reprieve to the boring routine that makes up Korra’s week. She’d only heard about the Fire Princess in the stories about her, whispered in the back rows of the classes on the Hundred Years war: the firebending prodigy who had very nearly killed the Avatar, who had taken the impenetrable city, who had fought her brother for the throne. The firebending master, wielding flames so hot they burned blue, now Korra’s teacher.

Their first training session had left Korra more exhausted than any lesson by Sifu Haejin had ever managed and it thoroughly exhilarated her. For the first time since she was moved to the compound, Korra arrives for her lesson early.

“Is it always this sunny on the South Pole?” Azula asks. She’s wearing a traditional Watertribe coat today and is sitting on a simple wooden folding chair, positioned towards the edge of the training platform, sipping her tea. The light reflects brightly off of her white hair, bound together in a traditional topknot.

“In the winter months it is,” Korra explains, as she sits opposed to her teacher, cross-legged in the snow. “During the winter solstice, the sun doesn’t even set.” Azula just hums. They’re a little more than two months away from the solstice now. “Likewise, the sun doesn’t rise at all during the summer solstice,” Korra continues. It must seem strange for foreigners to live in complete darkness, or the complete absence of darkness, but to Korra it’s not more unusual than the snowy plains and the otter penguins waddling around.

“Firebending tends to be weaker on the poles, the way it tends to be stronger around the equator,” Azula starts. “A lack of heat in one’s surroundings can reduce a firebender’s ability. The sun, of course, is a more constant source of power.” She blows on her tea, causing a flurry of steam rising from the cup. “So I can imagine your firebending being significantly weaker in summer.”

Korra thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe a little,” she says. “Though I’ve never felt like the difference was that big.”

“Do you think you understand fire?” Azula asks her. Korra, being fifteen and not generally the type to think too deeply about things, frowns.

“I guess. It’s a powerful element and I’ve always been good at it. Sifu Katara says that I move like a firebender, sometimes even when I’m waterbending,” she says, a little proud of the fact.

It’s true. Being proficient in both, Korra generally prefers the quick and sharp movements commonly associated with fire to the smooth and flowing waterbending techniques. She can see a grin on her teacher’s wrinkly face at the admission.

“It’s a funny thing, how you were born a waterbender when you have this affinity for the opposite element,” Azula says, considering Korra for a moment with her piercing gold eyes. She finishes her tea. “Enough chitchat. We’ll start our lesson now.

Korra expects techniques, or some other form of physical training, even holding out hope for another sparring session with the old master. But Azula doesn’t move from her spot, instead crossing her arms and starting her story.

“The power of firebending lies in the unflinching will of the wielder,” she tells Korra. “The refusal to back down. In a word, drive; combined with strong self-control, it’s what causes your fire to burn powerfully.” Then Azula stands up, conjuring up three candles from one of the pockets of her coat. Slowly, she bends over and plants them in the snow, before lighting them simultaneously by a burst of blue fire from her index finger. “It’s clear that you possess the drive to be a powerful firebender,” she says as she sits back down. “Today, we’re training your control to facilitate it.”

“Okay,” Korra says, looking from the candles at her Sifu.

“I want you to use your breath to control the size of the flames. Keep them as small as possible, without them going out.”

It sounds easy enough. Korra inhales slowly and deliberately, reaching out to the flickering flames with her bending. Her hands are folded together in her lap, the way someone might sit to meditate. It’s a posture Korra isn’t exactly used to and she flexes the muscles in her legs, shuffling where she sits in an attempt to get more comfortable. Then she exhales, taking control of the fire. It sounds easy enough, keeping the flames so small that they’re about the size of a fingernail. But there’s a chilly breeze rolling in from the sea and then there’s Azula, who will blow on the candles whenever she feels like Korra isn’t paying enough attention.

Time passes agonizingly slowly when all you’re really doing is breathing. Another restless movement, shifting her weight. Another inhale. The candles have burned only a quarter of the way through but Korra notices one of them is burning a little too fast. Fire is born from breath, the often repeated motto of Sifu Haejin echoes through her mind. She exhales again, trying to even out the sizes of the flames.

Perhaps the part of this exercise Korra is least well-suited to is being forced to sit still and focus for an extended period of time. Another deep breath leaves her lungs and she fidgets once more, shifting her position in the snow.

If Azula notices, she doesn’t let it show. Instead she stands up and starts walking alongside the edge of the platform with slow steps. “Has Haejin ever told you about the origins of firebending?” she asks.

Korra shrugs, keeping her eyes on the candles. “It was passed on to the ancient people of the Fire Islands by the dragons, a long time ago,” she says.

“Yes. To the Sun Warriors, to be exact,” Azula adds. “It is said that anyone who, like them, learns directly from the old masters, will know the true meaning of fire. In fact, those who wish to learn it from the masters must complete a task not unlike the one you are doing right now.” Korra’s ears perk up and she stills. Does Sifu mean that if she can do this, she could learn directly from dragons? And does that mean they actually still exist?

“I am no dragon, but I have come to learn their secret,” Azula continues, completing her circle around the training platform and appearing in front of Korra again. “While fire can be purely destructive when it comes from a place of rage or hate, the Sun Warriors believe it represents life. Like the fire of the sun, or the fire spit by the dragons, burning dead trees to allow new life to grow. What makes that difference is your motivation.”

Korra has fallen silent as she imagines the scene; the majestic beasts blocking out the sun in the sky as they rain down fire on a forest, burning away the dead undergrowth for new plants to take their place and flourish. “Have you ever met them?” she asks.

“The Sun Warriors? No,” Azula answers, pausing. “Although their people persists to this day, they’re reclusive.”

“I meant the dragon masters,” Korra says. Her posture is relaxed now; she hadn’t even noticed the candles steadily burning up two thirds of their original size.

“Not personally,” her master says. “Though I’ve heard tales about them from the Fire Lord and your predecessor, Avatar Aang. They both journeyed there and met them.”

Korra makes a mental note of it to ask Aang about that whenever she manages to commune with him for the first time. Azula continues, making another round as she tells about the mighty Ran and Shaw, one red and one blue dragon who bathed the Avatar and the Fire Lord in a fire of a thousand colors. The description makes it seem as if she has lived through it. “The way you speak about them, it’s as if you met them yourself,” Korra mentions.

“That’s entirely Aang’s fault,” comes the answer. “It was one of his favorite stories to tell.”

Korra grins. “I can see why. I wish I could meet them.”

“You could, someday—that is, if you survive the Sun Warriors’ traps. Either way, I think that’s enough for today,” Sifu Azula says eventually, pointedly looking at the candles. That’s when Korra notices all of the fat from the candles has burned up and she’s practically been keeping the flames alive with nothing but her own bending. Korra exhales and lets the breeze blow them out. Azula nods approvingly. “Good job today, Avatar.”

3

“Sifu,” Korra starts. “Why are your flames blue? Is it some kind of trick?” Azula is having her augment the flames of a dozen candles today, set up in a long row in the freshly fallen snow on the training platform. The exercise is to have them burn up at different speeds, creating a slanted line of their heights as they burn on, with the first being halfway gone already and the last seemingly having just been lit.

It had become apparent since their first lesson working on the Avatar’s control that her fidgeting becomes noticeably less when she’s allowed a story, so Azula complies. “It’s not a trick,” she says, taking a sip of her tea. “My fire simply burns hotter than everyone else’s. It always has.”

“How does that work?” Korra asks, looking up at her with big eyes, a barely contained ambition that makes Azula smirk.

“Don’t think it’s something you can learn overnight,” she tells the girl. “Controlling shape and size, like you’re doing, is just one facet of fire augmentation. Heat is another. That’s all it is.”

“Perhaps not overnight,” Korra mutters, her eyes back on the candles, “but you do think I could learn it?”

Azula considers it for a moment. “Avatar Aang was never able to produce anything but regular fire. Then again, he did experience some difficulties in bending it in the first place.”

Korra’s bottom lip pulls up in a pout. “That doesn’t make sense,” she says. “Wasn’t earth the most difficult for him, since it’s directly opposite to air? That’s what Sifu Katara always says.”

“In a way,” Azula explains. “But firebending is also directly opposite to air, in the way it largely depends upon positive jing, or attacking, where the fundamental aspect of airbending is negative jing, or evading.” A silence falls as Korra considers this information. It’s particularly cold today. The sky is packed with a thick layer of grey and a freezing wind rages over the compound. It doesn’t seem to faze the Avatar or her candles very much. “But you are a completely different person,” Azula says. “A different bender. I think it could be worth it to try.”

“Really?” Korra exclaims, so excited that she briefly forgets about her exercise—Azula blows on the candles swiftly and two of them die out for a moment, before flickering back to life.

Ignoring her own interruption and Korra’s indignant expression, Azula continues. “Sure,” she says. As befits a true Sifu, she starts on the technicalities of it. “You can see it in the flames in front of you. Where the wick burns is the hottest part of the flame, so it burns blue. That’s the part of the flame where the seal fat of the candle burns up completely.” Korra, still sitting cross-legged, leans forward to study the flames she’s tending to a bit more closely. “Looking higher, the flame transitions from white, to yellow, to orange and red. The change in color is directly connected to the flame losing heat.”

“Huh,” Korra mumbles, still looking intently at the flames. “Then, does bending hotter fire cost more energy?”

“It’s about efficiency, controlling the outpour of your chi instead of simply letting it all out. If anything, it costs less.” Azula says, before rising from her seat. “Are you ready to try it?” Her back is going to make her pay for this tomorrow, but Azula takes comfort in knowing it won’t be as bad as the day after their sparring session. Korra puts on the big polar puppy eyes again.

“Really?” she asks.

“You’ve spent enough time burning candles, wouldn’t you agree, Avatar?” Azula replies, a grin deepening the wrinkles around her mouth.

The candles are instantly forgotten. Eager as she is, Korra jumps to her feet and assumes the Horse stance, one of the standard firebending forms. Azula momentarily corrects her posture, before taking a step backwards. “I want you to keep focusing on your breathing, as you were doing before. It’s fundamental.” Immediately, Korra inhales deeply. “Now,” Azula continues, “do your best tigerdillo roar.”

With a grin, Korra stretches her arms, her hands open, and roars; a powerful burst of fire shoots from both of her hands into opposite directions and upwards into the sky from her mouth. Azula grimaces.

“You’re being too reckless. Focus, Avatar.” Korra tries again, her growl even louder this time. It’s not quite what Azula is looking for.

“Remember what you were doing before, Korra,” she says, standing in front of her student with her arms crossed. “You possess an absurd amount of raw strength. With it, you can either create a powerful blaze of regular fire, like you did just now, or a smaller but controlled blast of white hot fire. Use your breath. Augment the flame. Keep it small, but keep it hot.” Korra gets back in position, but Azula isn’t done. “Of course, once you get to my level, you can do both at the same time.” After all, what kind of Sifu would she be if she didn’t kindly demonstrate? Azula breathes in, before swinging her outstretched arms together in front of her, the blue flames shooting readily from her closed fists.

The next attempt is better. Korra is only fifteen and not a native firebender, so it would be unreasonable to expect her to create blue fire as easily as Azula did when she was her age. But the roar, a strangled sound that climbs out of Korra’s throat with barely disguised desperation, goes accompanied by a hot, white flame that’s honestly impressive.

It’s smaller in size than her previous tries, but no less powerful. Where white fire that only reddens around the edges shoots from the Avatar’s palms, it instantly melts the thick blanket of snow that covers the platform, even leaving some scorch marks on the wood below. Azula only smiles approvingly.

4

When her Sifu tells Korra that today, she’s going to teach her about lightning bending, Korra stills. Although she doubts Azula is known by name in every nation, it’s not farfetched to believe that most people know about the princess’ lightning. Lightning bending has only recently become a more frequently seen skill, with powerful firebenders using their ability to power the generators that provide Republic City in the world’s newest nation with electricity. Before that, the tales of benders wielding the most powerful form of energy would precede them, and turn into legends.

The scrolls on Avatar Kyoshi’s era described a bender named Xu Ping An, leader of the insurgent Yellow Necks that terrorized the Earth Kingdom ever since the age of Kuruk. At the time, Xu’s ability to bend lightning was a rarity and the firebender had been studied extensively by Fire Nationals because of it. Eventually, on the brink of another uprising, Kyoshi had exacted her justice on him after a battle where she was repeatedly struck by his lightning. That happened when she was only a year older than her; Korra remembers the story well. Her study on the deeds of the previous Avatars is never as interesting as it is when she can read about the battles her previous lives have fought.

“To put it bluntly,” Sifu Azula starts, “lightning is firebending, perfected. It’s the ultimate offensive attack. Pure positive jing.” Korra can feel a grin spreading on her face. “Another name sometimes given to it is ‘coldblooded fire’. Other than great power and technique, it requires a complete control over your emotions.” Azula eyes her closely. “That includes excitement.”

Korra pretends she doesn’t hear it and keeps beaming up at her teacher. “Are you going to show me how it’s done?” she asks. To be perfectly honest, it would be something of a dream come true.

Azula scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just going to teach you the basics.” The pout that appears on Korra’s face is instantaneous and she sees her Sifu roll her eyes. “…Maybe I’ll allow you to try. If you do well.” That’s all Korra needs to hear; she bows to her master and sits down on her knees.

“The most important lesson in learning how to bend lightning, is to learn how to redirect it,” Azula says. “There is no use in learning one of the most powerful attacks without also learning a way to defend against it.”

Korra nods. That makes sense.

“Ways to defend against such an attack are often evasive or defensive—negative jing,” Azula continues, “but this is risky, because the pure destructive positive jing will outweigh the negative, should they go head to head. The safest way to deal with lightning would be to redirect it.”

“Redirect it?” Korra asks, but her mind is still stuck on what Azula just said. Negative jing, positive jing… The word jing itself describes the myriad of options in which one can direct their energy during a fight. However, the different variations of jing are terms Korra has never paid much attention to before meeting Sifu Azula. Still, if knowing about them will help her bend lightning, she will gladly learn all 84 kinds of them by heart. Or was it 85? Korra dredges through her memory. “That would be… Neutral jing?”

Azula tsks disapprovingly. “Those must be your earthbending teacher’s words filling your head,” she says. “Neutral jing is doing nothing, choosing instead to wait and see what will happen. Not the best way to deal with lighting.” Embarrassed, Korra feels her cheeks burn. “You’re not actually that far off,” Azula goes on. She crosses her arms. “To your feet, Avatar.”

Korra stands up immediately, spreading her feet and bending her knees until she feels the familiar strain in her thighs, a staple of the Horse stance. Azula smirks, then shakes her head. “Your waterbending stance, please,” she says. Korra follows suit, standing up straight and relaxing her arms. Not many times can the difference between water and fire be felt so obviously as in the rigidity and flexibility of their respective starting positions.

“As you know, water is the element of change,” Azula continues. When they’re both standing normally, Korra notices she has a bit of a height advantage over the old master. “It pushes, it pulls. It utilizes positive and negative jing indiscriminately. When we speak of the energy typically associated with waterbending, it is called balanced jing.”

“Balanced jing,” Korra mutters. She is fleetingly reminded of the Spirit Oasis at Agna Qel’a, their sister tribe’s capital. Her uncle had taken her there when she was very young, but she still vividly remembers the lush green grass and the hot, humid air in the cave. The fish, too: white and black, the spirits of the moon and the ocean, Tui and La keep each other in balance as they swim around each other for eternity. An eternal dance of push and pull, her uncle had said. Without one or the other, waterbenders would be unable to exist.

It’s a fundamental truth that has ingrained itself in her mind ever since she first started bending water for herself. However— “Balanced jing is the key to redirecting lightning?” Korra asks.

Her Sifu nods. “What I’m about to teach you is a technique invented by my uncle Iroh, general in the army and the Dragon of the West.” Impressive titles, even though Korra doesn’t know exactly what it means to be a ‘dragon’. “He studied the benders at the Northern Water Tribe and the fluid ways in which they bent their chi,” Azula continues. “In particular, their ability to receive the force of their opponent’s attack and redirect it back to them.”

“He must have been a great fighter,” Korra says, “to translate the bending style of the opposite element into his own like that.”

“He was,” Azula answers. The corner of her mouth lifts upwards into a wry smile. “He was a decent tsungi hornist, as well.”

The next part of the lesson consists of learning the forms of the technique. The smooth movements feel familiar and come easy to her, testimony to their origin. Deliberately, Korra stretches out her arm, following the path of her chi there with the hand of the other, index and middle finger pointed, transferring the energy through her belly before pushing it outward again. Azula doesn’t have any comment on her form the way she usually has, instead silently observing her go through the motions.

“As redirector, you serve only as a vessel for the energy of the lightning. You don’t have to control it, you only have to guide it,” she eventually says.

“How about producing it myself?” Korra can’t help but ask. Repeating the motions and thinking about the circulation of chi in her body have made her more aware of herself. She feels relaxed, comfortable in the forms of her native element, calm. She feels like she might be able to do it, if she tried it now.

Azula grimaces, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening. “You can achieve the tranquility of mind necessary in different ways.” Her voice becomes quieter. “My uncle derived it from inner peace. Others, like my father and at one time, myself, derived it from a total sense of amorality.”

If there’s anything Korra particularly appreciates about her Sifu, it’s her directness, which is sometimes so harsh it can border on rudeness. She’s painfully honest even when it comes to ugly things like this. It’s different from the way people normally treat her—either as a child or as the Avatar—by often not telling her things she wants or needs to know.

“Didn’t you almost kill Aang with lightning?”

Korra can be harsh as well, but Azula shrugs it off easily. “My brother, too. They both got over it.”

They’ve entered a vein of conversation Korra has been curious about ever since Azula started teaching her. She clasps her hands together, forms forgotten.

“How did you become friends with him,” Korra asks, meaning her previous life, “after the war and everything that happened?”

With a short chuckle, Azula sits down on the wooden chair near the edge of the platform, as always put there by a White Lotus sentry ahead of their lesson. “Aang didn’t consider anyone to be a lost cause,” she starts. “It was one of the more infuriating aspects of his character. So when I was released from my prison cell, Aang reached out to me, convinced of my ability to change. He taught me how to meditate, how to care for animals, and how to garden.”

Korra has to repress a chuckle at imagining the rigid fire princess on her knees in the dirt, quickly pulling her face back into a neutral expression at Azula’s sharp glare. “In return, I taught him everything I know about firebending,” she continues. “And my other proclivity; bending people.”

“And then you became friends?” Korra asks.

“We did, despite how different we both were. And we didn’t always see eye to eye on certain decisions,” Azula says. “At least he made for a decent sparring partner.” A mean grin spreads on her face and Korra doesn’t have to imagine the intensity of being on the receiving end of it in a fight. “After all, the Avatar was the only one who could keep up with me.”

5

Despite her young age, the new Avatar manages to be a bad influence on her, Azula decides. She sees glimpses of herself in the headstrong, powerful young bender and it’s making her go a little soft.

She hadn’t let the Avatar lightning bend, of course. In spite of Korra’s assurances that she knew the redirection form well enough and that she’s a skilled enough firebender to be able to redirect it, Azula knows better; the girl is still too young to be at the receiving end of a lightning bolt.

“Can we end our lesson early today?” Korra asks, out of the blue. Azula is having her stand in the Horse stance for ten minutes, as part of their usual warming up.

“We’ve barely begun,” Azula mentions, eying her student with a frown. She knows Korra isn’t the best with figures of authority, but having her own undermined still rubs her the wrong way.

“Please?” Korra continues, putting on her puppy dog eyes. “It’s the Fall Festival today and I really want to go. Oh! And I almost forgot—my parents would like to invite you over for dinner tonight.” That takes Azula by surprise.

“During the festival?”

“It’s a festival for friendship and family,” the Avatar explains with a smile. “Spending it with you would be kind of the point. Unless you’ve already made plans, of course.” Azula had not. In fact, she hadn’t known the festival was happening at all, until now.

“Thank you for the invitation,” she answers. “That sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” Korra continues, obviously looking forward to the festivities. “It’s a celebration of the southward equinox; the festival marks the official start of the spring. From today onwards, the days will stretch until the sun doesn’t set for a full day, on the winter solstice.”

“It’s called the ‘Fall Festival’ when it celebrates the start of spring?” Azula questions. “That’s odd.”

“That’s because it was introduced by migrants from our sister tribe in the North. Of course, the seasons are reversed there, so…” Korra grimaces at her own explanation. “But the holiday is great! There are plenty of food stalls set up and there will be a fireworks show at sunset, as well!”

Azula hums. “That’s all good and well, young Avatar, but I won’t let you go until we complete this week’s lesson. In its entirety.” The smile disappears off Korra’s face, making place for a serious expression.

She tightens her fists and keeps her arms firmly in their position, pulled in and tucked against her side. “Of course, Sifu.”

The specialized technique Azula teaches her about today is not one she can do herself. Regardless, it’s a subskill of firebending that exists, so it is her job to inform the Avatar of it. “Combustion bending,” she starts, “is a rarely seen skill. It’s rarer than lightning, though I wouldn’t say it’s quite as rare as bending differently colored fire.”

“Explosions?” Korra asks. “Made with firebending? I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“That’s because not many people can do it,” Azula replies. “Have any of your previous teachers ever explained to you what chakra’s are?” It’s an extensive topic; one that she herself had only briefly studied during her own time as a student.

Korra nods. “Sifu Katara explained them to me when she was teaching me about healing. They are points in the body where chi is concentrated.” A small, pleased smile spreads on Azula’s face.

“Precisely,” she says. “There haven’t been many recorded cases of combustion benders, but all of them were able to channel their chi through their forehead, through the light chakra. The chi that is concentrated there heats up the surrounding air and produces a beam of explosive energy capable of immense destruction.” When she looks at her student, Azula sees Korra look up at her with large, silently pleading eyes. “No,” she continues, “I’m not going to let you try it. This lesson is purely theoretical.”

“Alright,” Korra huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Just focus on your breathing,” Azula tells her. “After all, building up and channeling your chi is the key to this technique, and the way to achieve that is through your breath.” The Avatar nods and solidifies her footing in the snow, before inhaling deeply.

Keeping in mind what Korra had asked her, Azula makes sure to end their lesson exactly on time, checking the time diligently as to not waste any. By the time they make it to the city, Korra is practically bouncing with excitement.

“Oh, I think I see my parents,” Korra says when they reach the festival grounds, before racing away. Azula sighs and takes her time in following.

The festival is held near the harbor, on a flat plain that is nestled in-between the capital city and the mountain range behind it. Azula had seen it briefly when she first arrived in the Southern Water Tribe, when it was empty and deserted, and has not been back to the city since. Nevertheless, the difference is striking. The usually empty grounds are dotted with the differently colored canvas roofs of the stalls, that sell mostly food but an array of other wares and trinkets as well.

Azula bows curtly to the Avatar’s parents, who introduce themselves as Chief Tonraq and Senna before immediately returning the gesture, thanking her for teaching their daughter. The introductions are over in the blink of an eye, because Korra is already rushing away to start their trek across the field.

“It’s not as big as it is during the Glacier Spirits Festival,” she tells her Sifu as they walk past various food stands. It’s moderately busy, with the pungent smells of different Water Tribe dishes filling the air. “That’s my favorite holiday,” Korra says. “They have a giant Ferris wheel brought in from the Earth Kingdom that lets you see the entire city from up high.”

“Korra prefers anything that’s remotely extreme or dangerous,” Senna mentions, falling into step next to Azula.

“I’ve noticed,” she replies dryly, thinking about Korra asking to be shot at with lightning to see if she was capable to redirect it. She decides against telling her mother that particular story.

“Fall Festival has the best snacks, though,” Korra interjects. “And my mom makes the best food.” That elicits a laugh from Senna.

“The Fire Nation also has a holiday around this time of year,” Azula mentions offhandedly as they cross the festival terrain at a leisurely pace. “Though it’s much different—a more gloomy affair, to be sure. It’s held after the red spider lily blooms, signifying the arrival of the fall, and it’s tradition to pay respects at the tomb or grave of your ancestors.”

“That sounds kind of similar to the Fall Festival, though, doesn’t it?” Korra wonders aloud, an open and honest expression on her face that seems to reiterate just how young she still is. “In the end, it’s both about family.”

A chuckles bubbles up from Azula’s throat. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

A chilling wind surges over the plain, rushing underneath the canvas roofs of the stalls and ruffling the white fur lining on everyone’s coats. A few strands of her white hair are blown out of place—Azula smooths them back into place with practiced movements. Although the cold bites at the fragile skin of her hands, she prefers not to wear gloves. Peacetime is a good look on Korra, her parents and the other inhabitants of the South Pole. She supposes not many people who remember the war are still alive, now. Still, the need to keep her hands uncovered persists, in the rare case a situation where she unexpectedly has to fight arises.

Azula exhales, shaking the cool sea breeze off of her with only the power of her exhale. It manifests as a dense cloud of steam, quickly dissipating but noticeably bigger than the breaths of the people around her.

As twilight falls over the festival grounds, they make their way towards the coastline. Senna and Tonraq have left them some time before they get there, leaving Azula and her pupil to enjoy the fireworks together. They’re off to the side from the biggest flock of people, munching on the salty kale cookies Azula had bought for the two of them at one of the stalls. Content, she gazes up at the night sky, where vibrant explosions disrupt the quiet of the night with violent bangs, followed by appreciative cheers from the audience.

“Do you think it’s possible to set off fireworks with firebending?” Korra mutters. She’s probably just wondering, as she stares up at the bursts of shimmering color in the sky, but Azula considers it seriously.

“Yes,” she says. “Theoretically. Though, remotely setting them off after shooting them into the sky makes it significantly more difficult.”

Bathed in flashes of green and red lights, Azula sees the moment of recognition on her student’s face. “Combustion bending!” she exclaims with wide eyes. “It’s a long range attack—it would be perfect.”

“I won’t appreciate you trying that anytime soon. Still, I have to admit… An Avatar with that specific skill in her arsenal would definitely be a force to be reckoned with,” Azula says, hiding her amused smirk in the thick collar of her coat.

+1

The hut where Korra’s parents live is traditionally round and made with sealskin, stretched over a wooden constuction. It’s very different from her room in the more modern barracks Azula has been spending most of her time in ever since arriving at the South Pole.

The floor is soft with animal pelts and the walls of the hut are lined with animals skins, shields and weapons—Azula recognizes a club that looks like the one Sokka often used, as well as a machete with whale teeth set in the dull side of the blade, and a bone spear—and what look like ceremonial headdresses. In the center is a square fire bit, surrounded with a single line of bricks. A stew pot hangs above the fire, suspended from the ceiling, and Senna stirs the soup inside as she sits on one of the four mats that are each positioned on one side of the pit. It smells like the five-flavor soup Korra had introduced her to, before. The fire burns small underneath the pot but the inside of the hut feels comfortably warm after walking through the chilling winds that rage on outside.

“How is Korra doing with her firebending?” Senna asks her when she’s taken her coat and heavy boots off, sitting to her right side on one of the mats.

“She’s a natural,” Azula answers. “Well on her way to becoming one of the best firebenders of her generation, I’d say.” She shoots the girl a wink. “Definitely the best one on this continent.”

“Very funny, Sifu,” Korra replies. She’s rummaging through the wooden cabinet off to the side, helping her father with preparing what look to be seaweed noodles.

“I’m kidding, of course,” Azula says, grinning. Teasing Korra truly never gets old. “Once I’m back in the Fire Nation, you’ll be the best.”

“As long as you don’t think I will let you leave without a last sparring session,” Korra says, “you know, to see how far I’ve come under Sifu’s tutelage.” She brings a plate with what looks to be a plucked arctic hen on it over to the fire pit, along with a small bowl with spices. “Do you want to help me prepare this? It should be done in no time, with your blue fire.”

“No, thank you,” Azula politely declines. “I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know how to cook?” Korra asks, sounding surprised as to how such a thing could be true. “But you’re—”

“A skilled bender,” Azula remarks. “An excellent tactician.” For the last few weeks, a Sifu to the new Avatar. Not much more than that, really. “The fact of the matter is, I’ve lived the majority of my life either in a palace or in a prison. Neither of those places require you to cook for yourself.” She sees Korra’s parents grimacing at her statement, but it slides off of Korra like water off an artic hippo’s back.

“Sometimes I forget you’re a princess,” she just says, turning to the arctic hen that lay waiting to be prepared and placing it on a metal skewer. “That’s okay though! I can teach you how to do it.”

Azula eyes the meat warily. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I certainly wouldn’t want to ruin dinner on a holiday.”

She looks at the girl’s parents for approval, silently hoping either one of them steps in and relieves her of this duty. “Korra has been helping me around the kitchen ever since she was a child,” Senna reassures her, instead.

“Arctic hen is her favorite dish, too,” Tonraq adds in his heavy voice. “You can trust she knows how to prepare it well.”

“I do!” Korra interjects, before Azula can say anything else. She grins widely. “And this way, I can be your Sifu.”

Azula rolls her eyes, but the sentiment makes her laugh regardless. “Alright. What do I have to do, Sifu Korra?”

Being referred to as such makes the girl pause, but it’s only a moment before she thrusts the skewer in the old master’s hands, telling her to flavor it with the spices and grill it with her firebending, then moving on to preparing the other ingredients.

After meticulously roasting the hen with Korra’s guidance, Azula takes a backseat to the proceedings, watching as Korra and her mother work in a perfect tandem. Korra goes home to her parents every weekend, probably helping out with dinner every time, if her practiced movements are anything to go by.

After a short while, the food is done. Dinner consists of a plate with octopus fritters as appetizers, with five-flavor soup, seaweed noodles, Azula’s grilled arctic hen and a steamed halibut as the main courses.

“And I’ve got custard tarts for dessert,” Senna says, smiling as Korra cheers loudly.

It makes Azula pause momentarily. Korra is entirely her own person, but custard tarts where Aang’s favorite food. And so, she can’t help but wonder if there’s some connection there, an instance where a detail as small and insignificant as a taste for sweets has somehow crossed over the boundary between death and life as well as the Avatar spirit, the moment when Aang passed and Korra was born.

It’s a silly thought. Azula shakes her head lightly as to get rid of it, and helps herself to some noodles.

Conversation comes easy to her over the course of dinner. Azula finds she has come to know Korra quite well after her time teaching the Avatar, and it makes for easy conversation with her parents.

“There is a test, performed on newborn babies in the Fire Nation, to see if they can firebend,” Azula tells them, after Korra has waxed poetic over the lesson she spent taming the candles. “It can’t even be called a test, really—the parents will hold a ball of cotton or some other flammable material under the baby’s nose. All it has to do is breathe, and the child’s inner fire will light the tinder.”

“Because all firebending comes from breathing,” Korra helpfully supplies.

“Yes. It’s a proven method—although, I suppose it wasn’t much help to you when it came to Korra.”

“You could say that,” Senna chuckles. “We found out after she accidentally set Tonraq’s coat on fire as a three-year-old.”

Korra rolls her eyes as she unceremoniously pulls a fish grate out of her mouth with her fingers. Azula finds she doesn’t mind it; the easy and intimate atmosphere inside the simple sealskin tent is a nice change of pace from the stifling etiquette rules of the Royal Palace, back home. “How come you guys love to tell people that story so much?” she mutters. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Sounds to me as if you’ve always been lax in your control,” Azula mentions, teasingly. “We’ll have to train your fire augmentation some more in our next lesson.”

“Alright, then; but the next time you come over for dinner I’ll teach you how to make sea prune stew,” Korra counters, her mouth half-full. “It’s a Southern Water Tribe specialty!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” her Sifu answers with a smirk.