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Chapter Text

“The deed,” Princess Ursa said in a low, quiet voice, “is done.”

Prince Ozai’s study occupied the single largest room of their shared family villa. It was, by choice, a dark and gloomy place only just illuminated enough by the overhanging lanterns to see by. The Fire Lord’s second, disfavored son had a black and gold chair that bore more than a little resemblance to a throne seated behind a desk of immaculately polished cherry wood and onyx, trimmed with stylized golden flames, where he normally enjoyed entertaining courtiers and guests with his face cast in shadow. But unusually, he was not to be found there tonight.

Instead, the prince lurked in the deepest shadows towards the very back of the massive room, where the entire wall was covered by shelves stacked high with tomes and scrolls and maps, not far from a plinth upon which rested a beautiful scale model of the Fire Nation Royal Palace, sculpted and painted to his exacting specifications over five years ago. Ozai scarcely so much as glanced behind him as his wife slipped inside, her soft shoes barely making a sound on the wooden floor. There were no creaking boards in the prince’s personal space, of that he had made quite sure.

“I trust that you have taken care of the rest, then?” she continued, closing the door almost inaudibly behind her and walking slowly towards the prince.

“The scribes have duly recorded the last-minute changes to my father’s will,” her husband confirmed with the faintest of nods. “Come the morning, I will be crowned the new Fire Lord,” he took a deep breath, obviously savoring the moment.

Behind him, Ursa frowned but kept on walking closer to him.

“And our son’s life will be spared,” he added after a few seconds, as if that fact was a mere afterthought.

“I am… pleased to hear it,” she allowed herself to breathe a loud sigh of relief as she neared him, before switching to her most serious tone. “You will watch over them, then?”

“It will be as we agreed,” Prince Ozai replied in a faintly condescending voice. “You will leave the capital tonight and never return. The children will remain here with me as collateral, and as long as you honor our accord, then you have my word that no harm will come to either of them.”

Ursa did not believe him. The man who had been fully prepared to murder his own son with nary a word of protest mere hours before, the man who would betray his only brother over the still-cooling corpse of his nephew without hesitation and murder his father for the sake of power rather than love simply could not be trusted. He would never honor an agreement with a mere exiled wife who’d outlived her usefulness, who had no means of enforcing anything on the new Fire Lord. Leaving her precious little Zuko in this man’s hands…

That was why she had brewed more than one dose of poison this night. Ozai would never be such a fool as to accept food or drink from her as Azulon had, of course. But just as there were many types of toxin, so too were there many ways of delivering them. Such as the one currently concealed in the long, flowing sleeve of her elaborate formal robe.

“Then… that is all?” she asked, taking one more wary, silent step towards him.

“Of course it is,” he said at once. “Leave this place.”

Ursa should not have been even mildly surprised, much less disappointed. “We’ve… been married for more than twelve years now, Ozai.”

“And?” he sounded mildly irritated, eyes firmly fixed on the sculpture of the palace he had dreamed of making his own for so long. “You and I have nothing more to say to each other, and no business left between us. Be gone from here immediately.”

He didn’t even bother to face her for a final goodbye. Why would he? To Ozai, Ursa was merely the meek, submissive little wife that he’d held under his thumb for years. She was a weak firebender in her own right, valuable only for her bloodline. What was such a sad, helpless woman, barely a bender at all, to him? She, who loved her weakling runt of a firstborn so very much, could in the end do nothing to defy her prince’s wishes for the boy. Even their little girl knew who truly ruled in their family, knew that her father’s approval was everything.

Ozai loved no one but himself. He didn’t understand the idea of it at all, save as a weakness that he could exploit. No one with even a trace of humanity left in his heart could have thought that making a blatant power play against his grieving brother on the very day he had received word of his nephew’s demise could turn out anything but poorly. But all he had seen in Lu Ten’s death was an opportunity to make a grab for the throne. That was all he now saw in Ursa’s frantic desperation to protect her son. His own arrogance and greed, as ever, blinded him to the dangers.

Consenting to the princess’ plan to kill the Fire Lord had been a mistake on his part. Sending her to serve the poisoned tea in person, rather than risk himself, had compounded it. For, as Ursa had watched the light fade from Azulon’s eyes while his servants lowered him into bed, had seen the old man lie back against his pillow for the last time as if to sleep, a revelation had come upon the unassuming, gentle granddaughter of Avatar Roku.

So much good could come from the right deaths.

“Then I suppose,” the princess spoke softly, using the sound of her voice to mask the faint rustle of silk as she reached carefully into her sleeve, “that this is farewell.”

The blade struck with a speed and strength even Ursa hadn’t known she’d had. She closed the short distance between them in a split second. Before Ozai even had a chance to blink, razor-edged, poison-coated steel, driven by a mother’s all-consuming need to protect what was hers, pierced the back of his neck. It plunged right through his skin and muscle, sliced deeply into bone underneath, and severed the nerves within. The mighty prince, the all-powerful tyrant who had ruled over her life for so many years, simply gasped and collapsed like a mere puppet with his strings cut, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The princess blinked. She hadn’t thought… she hadn’t dared to believe that it would be so easy. She had entered this room fully prepared to perish in fire as her husband’s last act of vengeance, as long as it would save her little ones. The substance thoroughly coating her dagger was the single deadliest one that the master herbalist knew of, even the slightest nick would have been enough to kill Ozai in short order. But there it was, plain as day. The man who could plausibly claim to be the greatest firebender left in the world, lying sprawled out on the ground, her envenomed dagger embedded deep between his shoulder blades, penetrating his spine. Blood oozed slowly from the wound, staining his rich robes an even darker shade of red.

“Ursa…” Ozai was staring up at her as best his twisted neck could manage, face contorted in shock. “You…”

“You didn’t…” the princess actually laughed, a high-pitched giggle tinged with equal parts hysteria and relief. “You didn’t guess? You didn’t see?”

The only response he could manage came in the form of a shuddering gasp.

“I killed Fire Lord Azulon to protect my son,” she told him, stifling one last giggle at how simultaneously absurd and liberating the moment was. “You were the one who was going to kill him without a second thought. What made you think I couldn’t do the same to you?”

“You… treasonous…” his baleful eyes might once have been fearsome, but now they only appeared pathetic to her. He coughed wetly. Speckles of drool mixed with blood sprayed across the polished wooden floor.

“No more than you, Ozai,” she said, looming over him. “The difference is that I did it for my son. You only ever did it for yourself. Oh and…” after all these years of watching this horrible man berate and abuse her poor sweet boy, she couldn’t resist the urge to return a small portion of it, “that I’ve won.”

The prince snarled furiously, and she knew that if he could have lunged up and strangled her with his bare hands in that moment, he would have.

“You will never be Fire Lord,” Ursa said, kneeling down beside her husband and running her manicured fingernails gently through his long black hair. “You will never lay a finger on my son.” She paused. “You will never poison my daughter with your lies again.” She smiled serenely down at the dying man. “May Agni condemn your soul.”

If Ozai had any final words to say, they would never be known. All that emerged from the prince’s mouth was a gargled hiss and a trickle of crimson that ran down his chin. He glared hatefully up at his wife one last time, his final expression one of sullen rage. Then his head slumped to the floor, and the spark faded from his golden eyes. And so, the man who might have become the greatest evil the world had seen in centuries was instead slain by treachery, his twisted ambitions left forever unfulfilled.

The princess sat back a moment and simply stared at the body, at the blood sluggishly oozing from it. That was really it, then. Her husband, her captor, her child’s tormentor, really was lying there dead on the floor. She really had killed him, just as she’d killed Azulon. She’d never have to listen to his cruel voice shred Zuko’s eager little spirit ever again. She’d never have to lay eyes on that horrible smile that crossed his face when Azula stole her brother’s belongings and burned them.

Ursa wondered if she ought to feel some sense of loss, some pang of sadness for the glimmers of a true man that had once existed in her husband, before he’d allowed his envy, his greed, and his bitterness to choke them out forever. But she didn’t. All she felt, in that moment, was a profound sense of release, a deep pain long weighing on her heart finally dissipating like a morning fog burned away by the rising sun. She’d done it. Her boy… no, both her children were safe now, even if the worst should happen to her. Iroh was not like Ozai or Azulon – he would take care of his brother’s orphans if need be. Lu Ten had grown into a fine young man under him, after all.

But now that she’d survived the deed itself, there was no reason that the worst had to happen. The princess had long been known around the palace as a pleasant, soft, motherly woman who loved small animals and her gardens, enjoyed poetry, flowers, paints, and theater. Even if she seemed slightly sad sometimes, there was nothing that would suggest to anyone that such a sweet, gentle lady might become a murderer. She wasn’t even trained to use her modest firebending for combat. No one save for the dead Azulon and Ozai, along with her underage children, would ever know that she’d had any reason at all to turn on her marital family.

The princess rose slowly to her feet, taking a deep breath while she composed herself. If she wanted to sell this story to the palace, to the nobility that would no doubt be working itself into a fit the moment the news broke, the scene would have to be set just right. She checked her robes and skin carefully, making sure there wasn’t so much as a spot of blood on them. Then with just a little effort, she conjured tears into her eyes from the abundance of them she’d held back for so long. She carefully allowed just a handful to trickle down her cheeks, smearing a little of her makeup. Finally, she opened the nearest door just wide enough, before throwing back her head and unleashing an earsplitting scream.

Agni knew Azula hadn’t gotten her acting talent from her father, after all.

“Guards!” Ursa shrieked, in her best hysterical wife voice. “Guards! Help! An assassin has struck!” She raced outside into the hallway, one hand clutching her chest, the other waving frantically. “Guards!”

Chapter Text

Princess Azula had gone to bed that night with high expectations for the future. It was disappointing that Father’s immediate bid for the throne had been shot down, yes, but the results looked good for her anyway, no matter how the dice fell in the end. If Father went ahead and fulfilled Grandfather’s demand, then she would be left as the only eventual heir to the Dragon Throne. Uncle would never remarry after he had lost Aunt Lu Rin to childbirth, and no child Mother might possibly conceive in the future could possibly rival the likes of her, not with the head start she had. Even better, with her weakling older brother out of the way Ursa would have no more choice but to favor her daughter, just as Ozai did. She’d get the status, the power, and the undivided affection from both parents instead of just one. It was such a pity that Zuzu would have to die for all of that to come true. Ah well, he couldn’t claim she hadn’t done her sisterly duty in giving him fair warning.

On the other hand, it was just possible that Mom might be able to make a plea pathetic enough to convince the Fire Lord to accept her life in place of her son’s. While that wasn’t quite as good, with Ursa gone Azula would be left as the undisputed favorite of the house, and the few restrictions on her behavior that Mom had managed to get Dad to accept would be gone in no time. Without his one constant protector, her brother would be even easier prey than before. Maybe she’d take that general’s knife that Uncle had sent Zuko next. Sissies like him didn’t deserve war trophies anyway.

Finally, there was the last option, a little less enjoyable than the first two but still a step up for Azula. Mom just might work up the spine to take her favorite child and simply flee the capital before Dad could do the deed. If Ozai felt exceptionally generous, perhaps as a reward for providing him with such a perfect daughter, he might give the two of them a head start before dispatching hunters. Getting rid of Ursa’s rules wouldn’t be quite as much fun without little Zuzu to kick around, but she’d still be left as the only heir standing and be free from her mother’s undeserved favoritism.

The very snug and quite smug little princess had settled into her cool silk sheets for the night with a twisted smile on her face, dreaming dreams of power, glory, and new heights of favor. Whatever happened, she had expected that tomorrow would be a very good day indeed.

What she hadn’t expected was to be awakened in the middle of the night by a quartet of Imperial Firebenders bursting into her room with all the grace of an enraged bull komodo rhino.

“Princess Azula?!” one of the masked, faceless guards asked, voice laced with urgency. “Are you alright?”

“…Whuh?” the little girl yawned and stretched, blinking a few times.

“Are you well, princess?” the soldier repeated, as he and his comrades fanned out across the room. They were in firebending poses, part of her slowly awakening mind noted, and for some reason they were pulling back the curtains and checking the inside of her closet.

“Of course…” Azula gave another big yawn. “Of course I’m okay,” she sat up in bed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Apologies, princess,” the man said, though even half-asleep she noted that he didn’t bow as he should. “We’re under orders to escort you outside without delay. There’s been an incident.”

Ah. Sent by Father, then, to keep up appearances after doing the deed. It was fitting, she supposed as she squirmed towards the edge of her bed, that she should have an entourage of palace guards as she left to “learn” of her new status as the sole heir of her generation. Still, couldn’t they have waited until morning?

“Alright, fine,” she gave one final yawn, then hopped nimbly off her bed, slipping on some light, comfortable shoes. “Take me to him, then.”

“Him?” one of the other soldiers asked the first.

“Move, don’t talk,” the original speaker replied. “This is no time for chitchat.”

Azula cocked her head slightly but happened to agree and so said nothing. She allowed the peons to lead her through the silent, darkened halls of her family’s villa, though to her mild surprise they weren’t heading towards the exits. Instead, she was being taken towards the central courtyard that played host to their personal gardens. A bit of an odd choice of locale, but this whole thing was playing out a little differently than she’d expected.

The princess wasn’t surprised to see that the garden was positively swarming with the elite red and gold armored guards of the Royal Procession, at least two dozen of them at first glance. What was a surprise was the sight of both Mom and Zuko already there, sitting on a bench by a pond and surrounded by six firebenders, all looking outwards. Alongside them stood a grey-haired man in a firebending officer’s uniform, holding his helmet at his side. She recognized Palace Commander Aiguo, a veteran of one of Azulon’s last personal campaigns in the field and current head of the Imperial Firebenders. He was a stolid and reliable man who considered himself bound by silly things like warrior codes and honor, which was why Father said Grandfather kept him around despite his advancing years. Rumor had it he’d once saved Azulon’s life during a particularly close call with an earthbender ambush.

Azula was stuck for a moment trying to figure out what was going on, until she noticed that Zuko was heaving and sobbing like a big baby into Mom’s chest, and that Ursa’s own face was stained with tears. Father or Grandfather had decided to make the execution a public one, then? A bit of an odd choice for a member of the Royal Family, however weak, but there could be reasons for it. She was sure Dad would explain it once he’d arrived and poor little Zuzu was dead.

“Azula,” her mother breathed a sigh of relief, looking at her with tears and smudged makeup running down her cheeks as she approached, “thank Agni you’re alright.”

Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, she thought with a smile on her face, picturing herself being undividedly doted on by both Mother and Father and loving every second of it.

“Well of course I’m alright,” she said in a light tone, walking over to her mother’s side with a spring in her step. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Oh Azula…” Ursa’s voice was heavy, almost wavering. “My little girl.”

Mom pulled her into a hug with the one arm that wasn’t already wrapped tight around her weepy brother, her hand cold to the touch. Azula was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that her embrace was lighter than Zuzu’s and didn’t last as long. That was one thing among many she was looking forward to getting rid of.

“So,” Azula asked when she was released, beaming up at the woman who would soon be all hers. “Where’s Dad?”

At that word, her brother gave a choked sob and pressed his face even harder into his mother’s silk robe. Just because he was about to be murdered for the good of the family’s future. Sissy. She watched, slightly jealous, as the elder princess wrapped both arms around her son and cooed, running her fingers gently through Zuko’s black hair and whispering into his ears. It was a little bit before he calmed down enough for Ursa to take one arm off of him. She patted the bench beside her with it, and Azula cheerfully hopped up and snuggled up next to her mother. This seemed like as good a place as any to watch the show.

“Your father…” Mom sniffed as well, and fresh tears left her makeup looking even more runny. “Your father… is… is…” she put a hand over her mouth, “dead.”

And just like that, Princess Azula felt every single one of the smug little certainties she’d felt about her life’s trajectory come crashing down around her.

“No…” the little girl muttered in a shocked, quiet voice, practically hearing ringing in her ears. “No… No…” she looked up at her mother. “No, i-it can’t be…. You’re… you’re lying.”

Father was the most powerful, most skilled, most fearsome firebender alive. Mother was a jealous weakling who couldn’t even fight. There was no way, no way, that someone so mighty could perish while a pair of helpless softies like Mom and Zuzu still lived.

“An assassin… crept into…” Mom let out a soft sob, “into his study. They… stabbed him in the back.” She dried a few tears on her sleeve. “He was… dead… before anyone found… found him.”

“No…” she repeated numbly, shaking her head as if that would make it not so. “No…”

“Princess…” Palace Commander Aiguo’s weather-beaten face was not very good at looking soft, but he at least made an effort. “I’m afraid that your mother is right,” he cleared his throat. “Prince Ozai… is dead.”

Azula’s eyes widened as far as they could go, and the color drained from her face. The stupefied nine-year-old barely even noticed her mother gently pulling her in towards herself. When she didn’t respond to the hug Ursa gave her with her free arm, the elder princess took her daughter’s small right hand in her own and began stroking it gently with her thumb. The little girl felt it, but she also didn’t.

Father had always said that words from the head of the Imperial Firebenders could be trusted, because the old soldier considered himself bound by codes of honor not to lie to his superiors or some such nonsense. Azula had thought that sounded stupid. Ozai had smiled and explained to her that it was, but such traits made subordinates easier to predict and control and should therefore be encouraged in the minions. He was so smart. He was also, according to the very man whose honesty he had vouched for, deceased.

“It was a coward’s blow that did it,” the officer said, as if that was somehow supposed to be reassuring. “A dagger to his neck while he was looking the other way.”

For the first time in a very long time, Azula had no idea of what to do. For years, Father had taught her so much about firebending, martial arts, discipline, cunning, and ruthlessness, how those were the most important skills for any up-and-coming royalty, and she’d eagerly accepted his lessons. He’d taught her to master her inferiors with carefully chosen words and a steady application of fear, playing on their emotional weaknesses to keep them in line, and she’d gleefully put his teachings into practice. He’d seemed so strong, so all-knowing, so superior to everyone around him that his ascension, and by extension that of his favorite child, seemed to be a forgone conclusion.

And now he was dead.

Ozai had been a better firebender than Azula could hope to be for decades yet. He knew so much more than she did, had so many secret allies and pawns at his disposal that her own subservient clique of friends paled in comparison. His cleverness exceeded even hers, even with the occasional misstep, by a significant margin. He had seemed in his daughter’s eyes to be the alpha and the omega, the epitome of what it meant to be strong and feared and respected. He had seemed almost invincible. And yet… what had any of that availed him, in the end? Some jumped-up peasant had slain the all-powerful prince with nothing but a knife. That left his little girl alone to wonder what the point of any of it had been, if none of it had protected him from such an unworthy demise.

What was going to happen now? Was Zuko even going to be executed anymore? Would Fire Lord Azulon really want to teach a lesson to a dead son at the expense of one of his two remaining grandchildren? What about her? What would become of Father’s favorite, now that Father was gone?

Azula clutched at her mother’s hand for lack of any better ideas, feeling the older woman rubbing her thumb reassuringly across the back of her right hand. It felt sort of nice, some part of her mind absently observed.

Another five of the Imperial Firebenders emerged from the villa’s interior, making their way out to where the surviving royals sat surrounded by guards. They paused a respectful distance off, and one of them stepped forward to offer a quick salute.

“Lieutenant Lee,” Commander Aiguo acknowledged him with a nod. “Report.”

“Sir, we’ve searched the whole interior and the surrounding street,” he shook his helmeted head. “We could find no trace of the assassin’s presence. Whoever they were, they struck quickly and fled into the night.”

“I see,” the man frowned. “Have you determined their means of entry yet?”

“Several of the prince’s office shutters were found to be unlatched,” the guard said. “As they were at street level, even one would be sufficient to afford entry to an assassin wary enough to slip by the nighttime patrols, such as by crossing the rooftops. He could then have concealed himself in the draperies or behind the sitting arrangements towards the back of the room. Then he need only have waited for his highness to enter his office and expose his back.”

“I warned the prince,” the veteran officer shook his head, “I said all those curtains and shadows left him with too many blind spots.”

“There’s no sign of any struggle,” the soldier went on. “Nor are there any additional wounds beyond the fatal one. Prince Ozai was killed in a single surprise attack.” He looked at Ursa, his voice becoming more sympathetic. “I’m… sure it was quick, my lady.”

“Thank you, Lee,” Mom sniffed, wiping a tear on her sleeve, before clutching Zuko tighter to her chest and squeezing Azula’s hand a little more. “Does… does the murder weapon provide us with any clues?”

“The dagger is very nondescript, your highness,” he replied carefully. “An unadorned brass hilt, a sharp steel blade, that’s all it is. It has no identifiable markings or hints as to its origins. Not even the name of a blacksmith or stamp of a foundry. We will search everywhere, of course, but… I would not get my hopes up.”

“I see…” Ursa sighed heavily, then looked up at the commanding officer. “You realize that my children and I cannot stay here with an assassin on the loose?”

“Of course, your highness,” Aiguo nodded. “My men and I will be escorting your family to the palace and securing your quarters as soon as you feel you are ready.”

“T-The p-p-palace?” Zuzu was being a crybaby, as usual. “B-But, won’t g-grandpa… w-won’t he…”

“Shhhh…” Ursa hugged her brother close when he was being a wimp, like she always did. “Zuko, my love, it’s alright.”

“B-But…”

“Some people, when they get old and angry, sometimes say things they don’t really mean,” she smiled gently at him. “I went to speak to your grandfather earlier. He had already taken back what he said before I even got to him,” she rubbed his back softly. “You’re perfectly safe there, honey.”

Azula’s mouth fell open. Of all the scenarios she had dreamed up in her fertile imagination, one where Mom managed to talk Grandfather out of it had never made even a single, solitary appearance. Fire Lord Azulon so rarely changed his mind about anything, how could she possibly have done that?

Unless… the young princess’ little eyes widened, and she wondered how she had not seen it sooner. If Ursa had invoked the memory of Lu Ten, had reminded her lord of how close Iroh’s late son had been to Zuzu when he had still lived in the palace, and then pointed out how much it would hurt Uncle to lose his only nephew so soon after his only son, then that just might have done it. His firstborn was one of the few things the ancient Fire Lord still cared about, and it was undeniable that Father’s brother really did like hers for some strange reason.

“Come now Zuko, Azula,” Mom said, patting both her children on the back and kissing them each in turn on the forehead. “Let’s be out of this place.”

The short walk to the palace was a quiet one, the waves of guards preceding and surrounding the royalty more than sufficient to keep any curious nighttime onlookers or would-be assassins at bay. Mom held Azula’s hand, and Zuko’s too, the whole trip there, and did not let go even when the vast front doors sealed shut behind them, the clang echoing almost ominously in the dark, cavernous halls. The cordon of guards didn’t loosen one bit as they proceeded down the main entranceway and veered off to the left, towards the section of the palace normally reserved for visitors. As they did so, another man in the uniform of the Imperial Firebenders came rushing out of a nearby side hall, with two more right behind him.

“Sergeant Enlai,” Aiguo reacted swiftly to the men’s approach. “The Fire Lord has been informed of everything that’s transpired, then? What are his orders?”

“I… couldn’t do it, sir,” the other soldier stopped short of the cordon and hesitated. The masked helmet made his face impossible to read, but his body language suggested agitation.

“Couldn’t do what?” the commander sounded like he was frowning beneath his own helmet.

“Couldn’t wake him as you ordered, sir,” Enlai sounded more than a little shaken. “Fire Lord Azulon… Fire Lord Azulon is dead.”

Ursa gasped, her grip on her children’s hands noticeably tightening. On her other side, Zuko flinched, taking several steps back towards her skirts. Azula just stood there, a blank expression on her face, unable to feel anything right at that moment. Hours ago, that news would have made her happy, now it just seemed to be one last cosmic act of mockery. All around them, guards tensed, several edging closer as if to interpose themselves between their charges and some imaginary enemy springing from the blackness that now seemed all too suspicious.

“W-Was he…” Azula could feel her mother shaking, could hear the cracks at the edge of her voice. “Was he…”

“No, my lady,” the guard shook his head frantically. “There’s no signs of any violence, or anything untoward at all. The Fire Lord was a very old man, it appears that his heart just… stopped. He died peacefully, in his sleep.”

“Oh… thank goodness,” Mom breathed a deep sigh of relief, clutching the hand that had been holding Azula’s to her chest. She didn’t continue for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just…” she shook her head and took another deep breath, “don’t think my heart can take the idea of another assassin creeping about, in here of all places.”

“The Fire Nation Royal Palace is perfectly safe, Princess,” Aiguo assured her. “I swear on my life, every member of the Royal Procession would prefer death to the dishonor of allowing any harm to come to those under our protection.”

“And I thank you for your devotion,” she managed a wavering smile.

“Don’t. I’m simply doing my job,” he turned to Enlai. “Go quickly. Round up every officer we have and tell them to assemble their men. I don’t care what the schedule says, every man is in uniform and on duty tonight. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” the other man nodded.

“Then get to it,” he said simply. “Dismissed.”

The lower-ranked firebender stood at attention, saluted one more time, then turned around and hurried back down the hall from whence he had come, almost jogging in his haste to be away.

“What are your orders then, my lady?” the head of the Royal Procession looked back at Ursa.

“My orders?” Mom sounded so surprised, hand halfway to her mouth again.

“The Imperial Firebenders take an oath to serve the Fire Lord and the Royal Family before all others,” Commander Aiguo said in a stoic tone, his deep voice unwavering despite all that had been happening. “Right now, Princess Ursa, you are the last adult member of it still alive and present in the capital. As far as I am concerned, you are our only superior within acceptable distance for timely communication.” He stood at attention. “What are your orders?”

“I… right,” she sighed, then drew herself up. “Send a messenger hawk to General Iroh, immediately,” she said in the same firm tone she used when she thought Azula was misbehaving, which was often. “Inform him of all that has happened. Offer our condolences for his grief and apologize but explain that what’s left of his family needs him back in Caldera City without delay.”

“It will be done, highness,” the officer nodded at one of his men, who peeled off down a nearby hall.

“My children will need their rest after all of this,” she continued. “Escort Zuko and Azula to their chambers for the night. I want four Imperial Firebenders accompanying each of them at all times. Do not,” Ursa almost sounded threatening, “let either one out of your sights for even a second. Is that clear, Commander?”

“Impeccably so, my lady.”

“Good,” she nodded.

“Mom?” Zuzu piped up. “Aren’t you coming with us?” he frowned. “Don’t you need to rest too?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she bent down, smiling ever so softly at him, “but there are a few things that I have to take care of first. Go with the guards for now, they’ll take care of you,” she looked up and nodded, and several masked members of the Royal Procession closed in protectively around the children. “I’ll be along to join you both shortly, I promise.”

“O-Okay,” her brother swallowed, then took a step forward and wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck. “I love you, Mom.”

Ursa returned the hug with a single tear trickling down her cheek. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Azula stood off to the side, feeling numb and cold. The embrace between mother and son lasted several more seconds, Mom rubbing Zuzu’s back affectionately, before the palace’s new leader apparent broke away with visible reluctance. She gestured politely at the soldiers surrounding her children, and they started to move. As one of the guards took her hand and began leading her away, however tired she might feel, the little princess doubted very much that she’d be getting any sleep on this night.

“A new Fire Lord must be crowned,” High Sage Sheng, leader of the capital’s Fire Sages and so the man responsible for doing just that, declared. “Immediately.”

Roused from his slumber by the Imperial Firebenders at Ursa’s command and summoned forth to attend the palace’s last adult princess, he paced up and down the side meeting room normally used by a dozen men or more. For her part, the mentally and physically drained woman knelt on a silk cushion at the head of a low table, illuminated by blazing braziers piled high with coal. Two bodyguards stood at the ready less than five paces behind her, eight more were scattered throughout the room or just outside.

Truthfully speaking, Ursa had had only a vague idea of what would come next. The greater part of her had expected to be dead already, had thought Ozai would manage to take her with him before her poison claimed his life. Iroh would be her children’s last family, then, and the obvious choice for their guardian. She knew she could trust her brother-in-law to practice at least basic decency where his family was concerned and had contented herself with that.

Now that the deed was done and she found herself quite alive, it was beginning to dawn on the princess just how precarious a position her son might have found himself in. Prince Ozai had plotted against his brother while she had killed his father, but he had not done so alone. He had allies amongst the nobility and palace staff, ones that shared her late husband’s ruthlessness and hunger for power. Without them, it wouldn’t have been possible to arrange for the sudden change to Azulon’s last wishes, and Iroh would still have been the designated heir.

As the next recipient of the stolen crown, an orphaned Zuko would have found himself a natural target for these now leaderless, honorless men. She had gone into this whole affair with the idea that Iroh would help her son if need be, and while she still had every confidence that he would if given the chance, she was now grimly reminded that Azulon’s firstborn was still encamped with the army retreating from Ba Sing Se, weeks of travel over land and sea away. So much could happen to a devastated, sensitive, impressionable little boy in that time. How many of Ozai’s former allies, or even enemies, might approach his son, whispering words of comfort while seeking to reduce the young prince to a puppet under their guardianship? If the Fire Lord’s will could be faked, then so too could Ozai’s own, appointing some ambitious lordling as ward of his dear children before Iroh could so much as set foot on their island home. And that wasn’t even the worst possible scenario she could imagine befalling her sweet son.

Well, Ursa vowed silently, not while she was still breathing.

“Fire Lord Azulon ruled over this nation for seventy-five years,” the man went on, “Almost none now live who can remember a time when he did not lead us. His death alone will be cataclysmic when it is announced. But think of how our people, how our enemies will react when they hear of the whole tale. In the space of days, the Royal Family has been decimated. Prince Lu Ten and Prince Ozai are both dead. The Siege of Ba Sing Se is lost. The omens are poor all around. Our people might whisper that our leadership is cursed; our enemies will think us weak and redouble their efforts. And on top of it all, Prince Iroh’s birthright has been revoked. I cannot disrespect the Fire Lord’s dying wish.”

It’s amazing how easily you lie, Ursa thought.

“Even were I willing to do such a thing, we cannot leave the Fire Nation leaderless for the several weeks it will take the former Crown Prince to return to the capital. We will need to hold the funeral swiftly and install a new Fire Lord, or the stability of the throne and nation could be in jeopardy,” he continued. “But what am I to do? With Prince Ozai’s passing, the line moves to Prince Zuko. In these trying times, am I to crown a mere boy of eleven?!”

Ursa knew perfectly well that the High Sage had been in on Ozai’s plot. He, after all, had been one of the “witnesses” who had verified the alleged changes to Fire Lord Azulon’s last will and testament. Now, with the ringleader of their conspiracy mysteriously struck dead, the man obviously wanted anyone at all on the throne rather than the famed war hero he had betrayed. A child king that loved his uncle very much would hardly be the buffer the old schemer felt he needed while he worked out how to ingratiate himself into the new regime.

“You have no authority over my son’s birthright,” she reminded him in a testy voice. “Only a Fire Lord may alter the order of succession.”

“That is true, your highness,” the sage said hastily, licking his lips, “but there is precedent for a… temporary solution.”

“A regency,” Ursa tapped one fingernail on the tabletop. “And I suppose that you have someone in mind?”

“Well…” the man tugged at his collar, eying the Imperial Firebenders surrounding them. “It is on very short notice, but perhaps we might be able to find som-”

“Speaking of precedent,” the princess sat forward a little, folding her hands together. “Are you familiar with the history of Fire Lords Meitan, Hengsao, and Shaoshang?

“They were…” Sheng had to think for a moment, stroking his thin grey mustache, “all placed on the throne before coming of age. For the earliest years of their reigns, power was exercised in their names by…” his eyes widened a fraction, “their mothers.”

Ursa was not Ozai. She had not killed her father-in-law and then her husband in the name of personal power. A large part of her hadn’t even been expecting to survive the second assassination. But she had, and she was here now. And while she was still breathing, the princess had no intention of surrendering the welfare of her son and daughter into the hands of some unknown nobleman for several years, quite possibly one of the very same ones that had been conspiring with Prince Ozai. It would be so very tempting for someone like that to quietly snuff out the last heirs of the royal bloodline once they had solidified their control and then attempt to begin a new dynasty.

“Fire Lady Dowager, I believe the title was,” Ursa said, staring at him. “Do you think that reviving that position would be an acceptable solution to our situation? I am of no great clan or house. I have no particular enemies.”

No living ones, at any rate.

“I have no allegiances to factions beyond the Royal Family itself. No one should feel unduly threatened or offended by my holding my son’s throne for a time. As we’ve established, the precedent is there.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he bowed his head slightly, “but you lack much in the way of… governing expertise.”

“I am more politically aware than some think me,” she told him in a stern voice, boring deep into his brown eyes. “But of course, I also recognize my own shortcomings,” she sat back, watching him carefully. “There would be need for loyal sons of the Fire Nation to guide me in matters where I lack experience.”

And there it was. That all-too-familiar gleam in the old man’s eyes, the same one she’d watched consume any traces of goodness that had once existed in her husband. The same one that would drive a man to debase his honor and betray the trust of his Fire Lord and Crown Prince alike. The same one she’d seen all too often in the eyes of the daughter who ought to be far too young for such things. The craving of the already powerful for yet more power.

Ursa mentally marked Sheng as one to keep an eye on.

“I see,” he muttered, and stroked his long mustache a little more, as if he were considering it. “If you are aware of such things, Princess Ursa… then I suppose it does make a good deal of sense to keep a regency within the Royal Family. It would avoid complicated disputes within the nobility and reassure our people that our divine forefather still smiles upon your ancient and honorable house. Provided of course,” he spread his hands out in a gesture of appeasement, “that there are no objections.”

“I’ll talk to my son in the morning,” she favored him with an insincere smile, “I’m certain he’ll be alright with it.”

Chapter Text

“Fire Lord?!” Zuko’s voice rang out the next morning. “I’m going to be Fire Lord?!”

“Shhh, dear, not so loud,” Ursa said with a half-smile, long hair visibly ruffled and still in the same clothes from last night. “You’ll wake the whole palace.”

The older princess and her two children were located in one of the palace’s many enormous guest chambers, equipped with two oversized beds wide enough for four people to sleep comfortably but only intended to hold one each, or at most a couple. The eight guards assigned to the last heirs of the Royal Family had led them here and then posted themselves throughout the room, obediently never allowing the children out of their sight for a single second, even if that meant staring at them unceasingly until morning. Azula supposed they had to be getting pretty tired by now – that or they’d changed shifts some time during the night. The faceless uniforms made it next to impossible to tell exactly who was who.

In spite of her expectations, the little princess had fallen asleep last night, by sheer dint of her young body being physically and emotionally exhausted if nothing else. Gone were her glorious dreams of being an only child with all the affection she could ever want. Replacing them were fitful, disturbing images of shadowy figures with gleaming blades, stalking tiny but not all that afraid, honest, princesses through darkened corridors that firebending refused to light. Azula had woken up in the early hours of the morning with a face drenched in cold sweat, to find that her mother had made her way into the chamber at some point during the night, as promised.

Ursa had apparently crawled into bed to sleep beside one of her offspring – Zuko’s bed, naturally. That was fine, of course. Her brother was always the weak, needy one. It wasn’t as though Azula required her sole surviving parent beside her, or needed to feel her Mom’s soft, warm arms wrapped tenderly around her sleeping form.

It would have been nice though.

“B-But I’m not ready for that!” Zuzu’s eyes were wide, staring up at the woman now sitting on his bedside. “I’ve still got so much to learn and… and…” he struggled for words. “What about Uncle? Isn’t he the Crown Prince? Shouldn’t he be the next Fire Lord?”

“Fire Lord Azulon made some changes to his will before he passed away,” Mom sighed, holding his hand in one of hers and stroking it gently. “He decided to move your father up in the line of succession to ensure the continuity of the bloodline. With Prince Ozai… gone… as well before he could claim it, that means as his firstborn son the crown goes to you.”

So, Grandfather had seen the wisdom of Father’s proposal after all, after he’d calmed down a bit. Probably after talking to Mom and being somehow convinced to spare Zuko. It was unexpected and somewhat out of character for him, but this whole experience had so thoroughly overturned all of her predictions that she couldn’t discount anything. The only other option she could think of was that the will had been forged, but Azula didn’t consider that possibility as realistic at all. At his advanced age, Azulon would have noticed any such thing in short order, and the consequences that would befall such traitors didn’t bear thinking about, even for her. That, and if Father had known of a way to make the old man just conveniently die, peacefully and asleep, the way he had, she was sure he’d have done it to his father and brother alike years ago. Maybe with his nephew and possibly his son thrown in for good measure.           

“But… but…” her brother looked almost ready to hyperventilate, he was so pathetic. He should have been thrilled that the throne had just come to him so easily. Mere hours ago, he had been slated for execution. A more dramatic turn of fortune was hard to imagine. “I don’t know what to do with that much responsibility! How can I? I’m just a kid!”

“Zuko,” Mother’s tone was soft, reassuring, “Do you trust me?”

“I…” he looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Of course I trust you!”

“Then trust me when I say that I’ve been thinking about this,” she patted him on the back. “Do you remember what your history teachers taught you about Fire Lord Meitan?”

“Well…” he scratched the back of his head. “He was… um…”

Even now, he was such a dumdum. Some things never changed.

“Fire Lord Meitan was an only child crowned at the age of six, after his father Fire Lord Hao died suddenly of a wasting epidemic that was sweeping the country,” Azula recited the relevant facts smoothly from where she sat on the opposite bed, part of her instinctively knowing where this was going. “His mother, Fire Lady Airen, though not of royal blood, governed the Fire Nation in his name for the first thirteen years of his reign, taking on the title of Fire Lady Dowager. She was the first to use it, though unofficially the wives and mothers of Fire Lords had often exercised great influence at court in the past.”

“Very good, Azula,” Mom favored her momentarily with a warm smile and a nod, then promptly returned her attention to her son. “Now, Zuko… I don’t exactly know of an easy way to ask this,” she smiled self-deprecatingly, “But would it be alright with you if I… kept the throne safe for you, for a little while? Just until you’ve come of age and you feel like you’re ready, of course.”

“Would you?!” he replied immediately, exhaling deeply.

“If that’s what you need, then of course I’ll do it.”

“It won’t be too much trouble for you, will it?”

“For you?” she replied. “Not at all.”

“Thanks Mom,” Zuzu wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re the best!”

Ursa simply smiled one more time, closed her eyes, and hugged her son back.

And just like that, Azula watched in a daze as all the power Father had devoted his life to acquiring was casually banded about between the two biggest softies she knew.

It didn’t feel real. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. Ruthless superiority was supposed to lead to power and glory, not an early grave. Tenderness was supposed to lead to subjugation, not mastery of the nation. Zuzu didn’t deserve to be even a lesser prince, much less the Fire Lord. She was smarter than he was, she worked harder than he did, she was more talented at everything worth being talented in. Why should him having the good fortune of happening to have been born first mean that everything that ought to have been hers just fell into his lap?

Father had understood. Ozai knew all too well the pain of seeing power and glory being given to an undeserving older sibling because of a supposed birthright. That was just one more reason she had been his favorite. If he had lived, he would have named Azula his heir, she just knew it. But someone out there had denied him that chance, and now that route to the throne was forever closed.

At least a few things made sense about this whole mess with what she knew now, like how it had gotten started. Some of Father’s enemies must have gotten wind of the changes to Azulon’s will from spies in the palace, and knowing their doom was fast approaching, moved quickly to ensure that the second-born prince would never see the power he had worked so hard to claim. Maybe one of Uncle’s supporters, maybe someone unaffiliated. She could rule out his royal tea-loving kookiness himself having any direct hand in it by sheer dint of timing. What turned out to be Azulon’s dying wish had to have taken place mere hours, if that, before Father’s murder. Even the fastest hawks in the empire couldn’t have made it to the war camp located not far from Ba Sing Se bearing the news in that small space of time, let alone returned with orders to eliminate Ozai.

It wasn’t the fact that her sire’s enemies might have been terrified and desperate enough to attempt an assassination that had so surprised and unnerved Azula. No, the life-shattering, world-rocking revelation lay in the fact that they had succeeded. She had thought him too powerful to fall against anything less than an army, but all of Father’s might and all of his grand plans had come up short against something so lowly as a single man armed with glorified kitchenware. The sobering but undeniable reality was that utter mastery of fire and divine blood and a brilliant mind and legions of minions provably did not make one any less human. Any less vulnerable. Father had proven to be vulnerable, and he had been so much greater than she was. If Ozai could fall then Azula could fall just as easily, and all her pretensions of control meant nothing where it mattered the most. And that was a deeply frightening fact for the nine-year-old prodigy to face. It was easier just to be mad at Zuko.

Her mother and brother did not end their embrace for quite a little while. When they finally did, Ursa stood up from the bed, attempting to work a few knots out of her long, mussed-up hair as she did so, and then beckoned her children to do likewise.

“I’m sorry to ask so much of both of you so soon after all that’s happened, but today is going to be a very busy day,” Mom said. “And you’ll need your strength, so I thought we should have a big breakfast. Does that sound good to you two?”

“Sure,” said Zuko.

“I guess,” Azula muttered.

Mom led the two royal siblings out of their temporary quarters and down the vast hallway to another guest room not far away. As they went, the guards were never more than a few paces behind or beside them, and the corridors were positively crawling with them. Even in her unusually deflated state, Azula could tell from the mass of servants and bureaucrats and functionaries they passed in the halls, scurrying this way and that, carrying papers or cloth or boxes, that the entire palace had gone into overdrive. And no wonder, the man who had held the nation in his iron grip for three quarters of a century was dead, alongside his second son and chosen successor. Preparing for the turnover had to involve a lot of work.

The side chamber where breakfast was waiting was, at the very least, quieter. Besides the omnipresent soldiers of the Royal Procession, the three royals were alone in a visitor’s room meant to feed twenty at once. Spread out on the table before them was a vast array of delicacies and treats, ranging from steamed buns stuffed with salted meat or red bean paste or creamy custard to congee rice porridge to fresh fruit spreads to deep-fried dough sticks to several dishes of wheat and rice noodles to vegetable and meat dumplings with an assortment of spicy dipping sauces, their morning meal wanted for nothing. Mom took Dad’s former place at the head of the table, Zuko on her right and Azula on her left. The young prince dug in ravenously, the stresses of last night apparently having only fueled his already-vigorous appetite. As ever, the princess was his opposite. Azula picked idly at a few of the dumplings that would normally have been her favorite, part of her wondering if she was about to be fatally poisoned. Royals had been dropping like flies lately.

The trio ate in silence for a while, though Azula did catch her mother glancing at her daughter’s mostly untouched plate with a worried expression a couple of times. The elder princess ate plenty herself, though at a far more relaxed pace than her son, keeping her table manners impeccable as she did.

“So,” Mom eventually did speak up when the eating had slowed down to a crawl. “I know that last night was hard for everyone. How are you two holding up?”

“…I miss Dad,” Zuzu said, looking down at his plate of half-finished steamed buns.

Dumdum. Didn’t he realize that Dad would have sacrificed him without blinking if Mom hadn’t somehow managed to talk Grandfather down? She had watched the sordid scene unfold in the throne room, Ozai hadn’t even attempted to argue for his own son’s life. Why would he? It just meant that his favored child would be the official heir. Really, it showed how much age had affected Azulon’s once-brilliant mind that he’d considered it a punishment at all.

“I…” Ursa closed her eyes and breathed deeply, “miss your father as well.”

Azula wondered if she really did. Some people said the prince and princess had had a good, or at least passable, marriage back when it was first arranged, but all she could ever remember for the last several years was the two of them fighting. Dad always won whenever he cared enough to, of course. He was vastly stronger, both politically and martially, and his status alone was far above the entirety of the minor noble house Ursa hailed from. Of the only two people above him, Azulon didn’t care enough to have much to do with his second son’s marital life, and Iroh was more often than not away on campaign. All Mom could really ever do was plead with or annoy Dad into changing his mind, and even that could be silenced with a word or stern glare if he really wanted to. That he’d ever made any concessions to her at all was probably a gesture of whatever pity he had been capable of.

“Azula,” Mom continued, looking over at her. “You haven’t said or eaten much, dear. How are you feeling?”

Cold. Aimless. Confused. Afraid.

Father said strong girls weren’t supposed to show fear.

“Alright,” she said, and forced herself to eat a rich hippo beef dumpling while Ursa looked on. “I’m feeling fine.”

“You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. You know that, don’t you?” her tone was gentle. “It’s alright to be sad sometimes.”

Maybe if you’re a wimp like you and Zuzu, part of her mind shot back.

“I’m fine, Mother,” Azula repeated with a frown on her face, and then shoved some more food in her mouth to prove it. “…See?” she managed, cheeks visibly stuffed and bulging.

Just because she felt weak and alone and smaller than she had in a long time didn’t mean she had to show it. She was trained to be better than that.

“Hmmm…” Ursa took a much demurer bite out of a century egg, chewing with a thoughtful expression on her face. It took Azula a minute or so to chew up and swallow all the things that were in her mouth, and she took a long swig of steaming amazake to wash them down.

“So,” Zuko piped up again. “What are we doing after breakfast?”

“Well, the two of you will need to see the palace tailors this morning and have your measurements taken if we’re to have appropriate clothing ready for you both in time for this evening,” she smiled slightly. “You’ve both grown a little bit since you were at Grandmother Ilah’s funeral.”

That was a mild understatement. Azula had been all of one and a half at the time.

“That’s no fun,” Azula murmured, picturing standing around with her arms out while silly older women fussed over her.

“I’m afraid that funerals rarely are, sweetheart.”

Shows what you know, the little girl mentally sneered. I would have had a great time if it had just been Grandfather.

Her withered old namesake had been biased against her since the day she came into the world. Not only was she the second-born of his second-born and thus a mere fifth in line for the throne, but he distastefully considered even the tribute paid to him in her name to be little more than blatant flattery, for which he had no time. Even her prodigious firebending talents, the apple of Father’s eye, had failed to stir Grandfather from his utter apathy towards her existence. That proved he was just a stupid old man long past his mental prime.

“You’ll need to be properly dressed for your coronation as well, of course.”

“Right… the coronation…” Zuko swallowed a little.

“They won’t actually put the crown on your head for very long, but you’re still going to be acclaimed as Fire Lord today,” Mom told him. “We won’t ask you to do much, but if you wouldn’t mind saying just a few words that I’ll go over with you later, it would make things go just a little more smoothly.”

“R-Right…” he nodded weakly. “I’ll say whatever you need me to.”

Azula actually felt insulted, a glimmer of comfortable, familiar anger stirring amidst the unpleasant sensations she had been experiencing since Father had died. This wimp as the next Fire Lord instead of Father, even if it was in name only for now? It was disgusting to think about. Someone needed to put him in his place.

“Don’t get too used to being up there,” The princess said, hands on hips. “When I’m old enough to inherit, I’ll challenge you to an Agni Kai and win and take the throne from you.” She leaned forward across the table and whispered. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get a scar or two on that chubby little baby face of yours.”

Zuko flinched a little but rallied and tried to look tough anyway. “Bring it on, Azula!” he said with one fist clenched. “I’ll take you on anytime!”

“Azula!” Mom’s voice was sharp, so much so that the little girl flinched herself. “Young lady, we do not speak that way!” She pointed one long, manicured fingernail at her son. “Apologize to your brother this instant!”

Right. The usual dynamic around mealtimes wasn’t there anymore. Openly denigrating her brother probably wouldn’t be allowed. She’d have to get used to that.

The princess bullied her brother because that was what she knew, the way the world had always been as far back as her memory stretched. It was a refreshing and direct demonstration of her power, proof that for all her uncertainty she was still in control somewhere. Only, the usual rush didn’t come, and when she thought about it, she knew perfectly well why. She wasn’t in control here, Mom was, and there was nothing she could do about it. Even worse, control like hers had proven so much more ephemeral than she’d thought. The lowliest of weapons could rip it all away in an instant.

The unfamiliar situation presented no easy answers. What if in the future she did win an Agni Kai for the Dragon Throne, and then the very same assassin returned and cut her throat in her sleep because he didn’t want her on it either? How would her victory have won her anything then? None of that gnawing existential uncertainty meant that she disliked the idea of showing weakness by backing down any less though. But she had no choice. Dad wasn’t here to force Mom to ignore her words or laugh them off as youthful jibes anymore.

“…Sorry Zuko,” she mumbled in a low voice, arms crossed and a slight pout on her face.

“Louder,” Mom demanded. “And mean it.”

“Sorry Zuko,” Azula forced herself to bow a little at the waist. “It won’t happen again.”

“Hmph,” her brother crossed his own arms and looked unconvinced. It didn’t escape her notice that he’d edged just a little closer towards Mother while her eyes were downcast either. It was at least a tiny bit gratifying to see that he still feared her even without Father.

“Zuko,” Mom’s voice was chiding, but only mildly so. “I want you to accept your sister’s apology, like a gallant and gracious young prince.”

Reluctantly, he uncrossed his arms. “…I accept your apology, Azula,” he said.

“That’s better,” the elder princess smiled. “I know that both of you haven’t always gotten along, but with so much happening all at once it’s important that we stick together as a family.”

“She made fun of Uncle for being sad about Lu Ten’s death just yesterday!” Zuko pointed at his sister. “She said he was a quitter and a loser. Then last night she came to my room and made fun of me when she thought I was about to die! Azula doesn’t care about family at all!”

Tattletale.

“Oh relax, I knew that Grandpa and Dad wouldn’t actually go through with it,” Azula lied. “Can’t you take a joke?”

“Azula, death in the family is nothing to joke about,” Ursa said sternly. “You will not do so again, am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you will show your uncle proper respect. He is a great war hero who’s served our nation valiantly for many years, and his son just made the ultimate sacrifice for all our sakes. I won’t hear a word said against them, is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” the little princess forced herself to nod, fuming inside but powerless to do otherwise.

“Good,” Mom nodded, sitting back. “Now please, both of you, I know that some very difficult things have been happening and we’re all more than a little sad and worried, but I want the two of you to try and get along. We’re all that we have left now. Please, promise me that you’ll at least make the effort to be kind to one another.”

“I’ll only do it if she does,” Zuzu said.

“Well, I’ll only do it if you do,” Azula retorted.

“Hmph,” both siblings said simultaneously.

Ursa rubbed a hand on her forehead and sighed.

“Um, your highness?” a voice cut in meekly. Azula turned and saw that a woman in servant’s robes had slipped quietly in the door at some point, pausing behind the line of guards. She bowed at the waist. “Chamberlain Lao would like to speak with you regarding some of today’s arrangements.”

“Can it wait?”

“He said it was urgent, my lady.”

“Very well,” Ursa sighed again, standing up smoothly. “I’ll be back with you both shortly.”

The elder princess and effective Fire Lady to be followed the servant girl out the door, escorted by a quartet of the Imperial Firebenders. The chamber door slid shut almost noiselessly behind her, leaving the two children alone with the remaining, silent guards.

At first, it was just awkward silence, with Zuko taking a few more bites out of his savory buns while Azula sipped on amazake. The princess stared at her brother between swallows of the piping hot, sweet beverage, while he mostly tried to avoid eye contact with the girl who’d gleefully anticipated his death. Such a baby. She hadn’t actually been responsible for any of it, and he hadn’t died, so what was the big deal? He ought to have been elated at his sudden run of good luck, the rapid shift of the family power dynamics in his favor.

“So…” the prince eventually forced himself to say something. “Things are probably going to be pretty different from now on, huh?”

“All hail Fire Lord Zuzu, master of the obvious,” she replied. “We’ll have to live in the palace from now on, and I’m sure they’ll make you take a lot more advanced classes now that you’re going to be sitting on the throne instead of just fourth in line.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Get ready for a lot more schoolwork and a lot less free time in your life.”    

He glared at her. “And there won’t be in yours?”

“The difference is I’m already in the advanced sets, and I can handle anything new quickly and easily,” she boasted. “I’ve always been at the top of my class, and I still will be when I go back to school.”

“I don’t think Mom will let you go back to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls after this,” her brother pointed out. “She’ll probably make you stay and study here to make sure you’re safe.”

Azula blinked. She hadn’t thought of that yet, but for once Zuzu was probably right. Letting a little girl wander across even the hallowed halls of that elite campus without a constant accompaniment took on a whole new level of risk after her father had been murdered with the assassin still on the loose. She’d be seeing a lot less of Mai and Ty Lee then, and the pleasure of basking in the awed worship of crowds of lesser girls would be curtailed. Another thing ripped away from her.

“I guess life is just gonna get busier and harder for both of us,” Zuko concluded with a sigh. “Great.”

The princess gripped her chopsticks tight. Harder for both them? He made it seem like there was any equivalency between their situations. Azula had lost her greatest patron, teacher, and role model, the man who had given her dominance in the family and her brilliant mastery of flame. The man who would have given her the world. It was the future she’d earned that was lying dashed to pieces on the rocks. She was the one who was alone in the world now. She was the one who was really suffering. Zuko had lost a father that didn’t care for him anyway and gained the world’s greatest empire in exchange. What right did he have to complain, then? The parent that favored him was still alive.

“What would you know?” Azula muttered, wearing a sour expression at how unfair it all was. “This is all your fault anyway for being so useless.”

“Is not!” he shot back.

“Oh yes, it is. I bet that the reason why Dad was killed was because someone knew you’d be a total wimp on the throne and let them do whatever they wanted. And your stupid demonstration yesterday is probably the whole reason Grandpa is dead too,” she told him spitefully. Cruel words came easily to her. “I think he got himself so worked up thinking about how incompetent his last grandson was last night that his old heart just gave out.”

“Ahem,” said a familiar voice from behind them.

Azula’s head whipped around, to find a pair of amber eyes staring right back at her from beneath a deeply furrowed brow.

Entering this room noiselessly must have been easier than she thought.

“Zuko,” Ursa said in a low, quiet voice. “The tailors are here to measure you for your new clothes. Go with the guards to see them. Now.”

“But-” he began.

“I have words that are for your sister’s ears alone,” she told him, more sternly than she normally spoke to her favorite. “Please, go and get ready.”

“Yes, Mom,” the prince said, rising from the table. More firebenders moved in close to escort him, and the little party vanished out the doorway in short order.

“The rest of you,” Mother continued in her commanding tone. “Please wait outside for just a few moments. This won’t be long.”

“But my lady, we’re under strict orders not to leave you or your children alone for any length of time,” one soldier protested.

“I believe we’ve established by now that this room contains no assassins,” she told him. “And I believe I can handle my nine-year-old daughter on my own. Please,” she repeated, “wait just outside. Secure every entrance and the surrounding hallway if it pleases you. But allow me a moment alone with Princess Azula.”

“I…” the man sighed, then bowed at the waist. “As you wish, my lady.”

One by one, the remaining Imperial Firebenders did a final sweep of the crimson-walled room before filing outside to await their princesses. The last soldier to leave slid the wooden door closed behind him, though shadows could just still be made out through the opaque white glass held within the cherry wood frame. Azula and her half-eaten breakfast were left completely alone with her mother, the older woman standing tall, towering over the child still kneeling on a cushion beside the table.

“Enough,” Ursa said in a low voice that demanded obedience. “Young lady, I have had enough. This has to stop, now.”

“What has to stop?” the little girl said in her most innocent tone, eyes wide and face sporting an almost angelic aspect.

“You know perfectly well what I mean, don’t pretend that you don’t.” Mom scowled at her. “You’ve always been an intelligent child. Why you can think of no better use for that brain of yours than inventing new ways of tormenting your brother has always been beyond me.”

“But I’m just teasing him,” she lied, still looking cute as a button. “Isn’t that what all brothers and sisters do? Play jokes on each other?”

“Your behavior goes far beyond any mere childish pranks, and it has for a very long time. And your brother may be the worst example, but he’s hardly the only one. For years now, you’ve shown a chronic lack of respect for anyone or anything besides yourself or your father, and it’s high time that you learned to conduct yourself more appropriately.”

“But Father said-”

“What your father may have thought about your behavior is no longer relevant at all,” Ursa shook her head.

In spite of herself, Azula’s eyes still widened to hear Ozai’s opinion so casually dismissed. Mom was coming out of Dad’s shadow fast. As recently as the day before she would never have dared to say such a thing.

“Because your care is now solely my responsibility.” The princess looked down at her daughter. “Azula, in the last day alone, you have mocked your uncle’s grief at your cousin’s death, repeatedly insulted our nation’s greatest general, scorned your grandfather’s age, and openly wished for his death and replacement right before my eyes!”

Oh yes, she had done that only yesterday, hadn’t she? It seemed almost a lifetime ago, when she’d thought it would be Ozai taking over from Azulon. How quickly the world had turned upside down.

“And today I find you blaming Zuko for your father’s murder as well as your grandfather’s passing and threatening to maim your brother’s face?!” Mom looked coldly furious now. “That is not how good young ladies behave, that is not how good sisters behave, and that is not how a good princess is to behave!”

And why would I want to be your idea of a good princess? Azula wondered. What do I get out of it?

“For a very long time you’ve shown no true respect for your own family, for your friends, for your ruler, for our servants, for the sacrifices of our soldiers, for the many gifts you are given, even for the animals and the flowers. It’s time for that to change,” her tone was hard. “You’re more than old enough to understand these things. It’s long past time that you internalized the idea that things outside yourself have value in and of themselves, not simply for how much they may please you. People are not playthings for you to mock and bat around for your amusement, and the world does not exist to fulfill your every whim!”

Then what is it for?

“And make no mistake, Azula, from this day forward, this lesson will be taught, time and time again if need be, until you show me that you’ve truly grasped it. Your father may have indulged your…” she visibly struggled to find words, “your… frankly, your atrocious behavior for far too long, but I will not,” Ursa folded her arms across her chest, and to her daughter the elder princess had never looked taller. “Let me make this as clear as clear can be, young lady. From now on, you will play nicely with others, or you will be punished. As many times as it takes.” She frowned deeply, unblinking eyes boring right into Azula’s. “Am I understood?”

The proudest part of Azula felt the urge to just mock her mother. Mock Ursa’s weakness, her trite morality, her sad little social conventions and notions of what it meant to be ladylike, her pitiful excuse for firebending, her lack of true divine royal blood. Only yesterday she might have done so proudly in response to such an unusually harsh scolding, boasting of her strength and cunning and superiority, and simply daring her mother to do anything about it. She didn’t need Mom’s approval, she had Dad’s. And Mom had always lived in the shadow of Dad, the princess would have gloated. Ursa could only punish the family’s prodigy as far as Ozai would allow. The scion of minor nobility was nothing but a glorified family servant, really, and her daughter never wanted to become pathetic like her. She would follow the path that would lead to the ultimate satisfaction of her every desire, through the use of power and cunning and fear. Even if it meant missing out on a few warm hugs and comforting words along the way, Azula would follow Ozai’s path, and never Ursa’s.

But… Ozai’s path had just ended, not with the unmatched power and everlasting glory and limitless wealth and fawning multitudes that he had spun such mesmerizing tales of, but with a simple knife buried in his back. An ignominious peasant’s death, for a prince who had almost been Fire Lord. He hadn’t even managed to put up a fight. All his words and all his schemes and all his firebending hadn’t helped him one bit when all was said and done. What good would such things be to her, then? Would she just wind up sharing her father’s fate if she followed any further in his footsteps? Azula didn’t understand how it could have turned out this way, but against all the odds, against everything she had been taught or learned on her own about how the world worked, she had to acknowledge that in the end it was Dad who had perished. While Mom, weak, sad little Mom, had somehow not only survived but wound up with all the power that her father had spent his entire life craving.

It was almost like one of Mother’s insipid, childish bedtime stories that Zuzu still loved to hear but Azula had fully rejected a long time ago. Once Father had shown her how easily they came apart, it had been only natural. In those dull little morality tales, the whole universe seemed to bend over backwards to make sure that the good guys won, and the bad guys got their punishment in the end, no matter how unlikely it seemed. They were laughably simplistic, just like her brother, and completely fell apart once even the slightest dose of realism was applied. Father had almost playfully pointed out that he would probably qualify as a bad guy if life truly resembled one of Mother’s stories, and his daughter need only look around her own home to see who really ruled whom. Azula had laughed merrily at that. It didn’t seem so funny now.

From what had happened last night, it seemed as though the universe really had bent over backwards to ensure just such a trite outcome. An unknown avenger seemingly ripped right out of a storybook had humbled the haughty, filicidal prince before he could touch his pitiable offspring. The old king had passed away just in time to leave his kingdom to the beautiful, kind princess and her gentle son. The villain was brought low, the patient, longsuffering heroes were raised up.

Azula, taking after Ozai, had never believed in spirits except in the most general sense. Even the great spirit of the sun, whose divine blood flowed in her veins, expected his children to prove themselves ruthless and strong on their own merits. Agni had no interest in trifling concerns of petty, baseborn morality, whatever some old legends said. There was no one looking over the world’s shoulder, adjusting karmic balances and dealing out appropriate punishments to wicked men, merely distant, self-interested creatures almost wholly contained in their own alien world and therefore irrelevant to human affairs. After all that had happened the night before, though, the child princess was no longer quite so sure as she had been. That fact frightened her in more ways than one.

Plus, Father had always said that power was everything, hadn’t he? And Mother, however impossible it had seemed only yesterday, had all of the power now. Power over the nation, over the palace, over Azula herself. Her path had looked so pathetic and unappealing, yet it had somehow led her to the final triumph Father had always sought so hard and yet would never have. And everything that Azula had previously thought most important had simply failed to offer Ozai any real security when it counted.  Maybe… Maybe Mom’s way of doing things could at least be worth a try after all?

“Yes, Mommy,” Azula said meekly.

The funeral took place at sunset, as was tradition.

It was a grand affair indeed, a fitting final chapter for the man who had shaped the Fire Nation for seven and a half decades and the son he had “chosen” to succeed him. The Coronation Plaza was packed with crowds of mourners dressed in the traditional mourning white, along with rank upon rank of men and women in ritual hooded red robes, carrying tall banners representing the many islands and colonies that made up the mighty Fire Nation, from the least to the greatest. No one could afford not to be present, if only symbolically, for the single most important event that had happened in Caldera City in decades. Bedecked in beautiful, brand-new white silk robes trimmed with gold and bereft of her usual headpiece, the princess stood atop the stairway leading up to the Coronation Temple, looking out on the swathes of strangers whose lives she was being entrusted with, and felt sweat trickling gently down the back of her neck.

She had to suppress the urge to swallow.

Ozai’s former wife hadn’t planned for all of this when she’d set out to kill the Fire Lord and his second son. She hadn’t really had a plan at all for after what she’d assumed would be her final night beyond vague ideas that her son would somehow be safe at the end of it. She had just been a desperate mother suddenly thrust into an impossible situation without any time to prepare by the reckless ambition of one monster and the wounded, callous pride of a second. Her thoughts hadn’t gone much further than slaying both of the monsters and protecting her precious boy, the light of her life throughout the many dark years spent under her husband’s increasingly tyrannical thumb.

But with time to properly evaluate things afterwards and the immediate danger passed, the situation had become both clearer and darker than she’d initially thought. Circumstances had conspired to offer her a simple choice: either seize power now for herself while no one else was prepared to do so, or else attempt to wait for weeks for General Iroh to return, hoping no one else hostile to her vulnerable offspring was able to seize power during that time, and then hope that the man who had suffered the triple blows of the loss of a son, a father, and a brother in quick succession would feel up to fighting Agni knew how many would-be usurpers by that point and the forged will disinheriting him. And that, sadly, was no choice at all.

Ursa had no skill to speak of as a personal combatant, no ties to powerful figures in the military or noble houses to call upon, nothing save the legitimacy that came from de facto control over the palace itself with which to shield her offspring. If anyone were able to turn the Imperial Firebenders or one of the other substantial military garrisons on the home island against her, then she and Zuko and Azula were as good as dead. A swift transition to a new Fire Lord and official regency made that so much less politically palatable than the weeks of uncertainty about the succession that would ensue if she had attempted to block the coronation from taking place at the funeral. The potential consequences of allowing someone else to become regent if she declined to seize the spot didn’t bear thinking about. She would do what she had to if it meant keeping her children safe.

“Azulon,” High Sage Sheng intoned in a solemn manner, his well-practiced voice resounding throughout the plaza. “Fire Lord to our nation for seventy-five years. You were our fearless leader in the Battle of Garsai. Our matchless conqueror of the Hu Xin Provinces. You were father of Iroh. Father of Ozai, now passed. Husband of Ilah, now passed. Grandfather of Lu Ten, now passed. Grandfather to Zuko and Azula,” he paused. “All the Fire Nation weeps for your passing.”

At that, Ursa duly bowed her head, as did her children beside her and all present in the plaza. In life or in death, a man such as Azulon had been could not help but be respected, even by those who hated him.

But there were those who knew how his ancient mind had declined near the end. Only a fool would have willingly held his evening tea ceremony in the presence of a woman whose son he had ordered murdered behind her back, no matter how many times she had previously been sent to attend him, to court favor on behalf of her husband. The old Fire Lord had grown too used to meek subservience from his daughter-in-law. The complacency of age and comfortable routines had done to Azulon what arrogance and greed had done to Ozai. He’d practically been asking for the slow-acting toxin she’d slipped him during the ceremony before helping the waiting servants escort him to bed at its end.

“And alongside you,” the sage continued after a moment of silence, “we mourn the loss of your second son, Prince Ozai, taken from us before his time.”

There were no grand accomplishments to speak of for her former husband. He had ever been a palace creature, never one to serve the nation on the front as his grandfather, father, brother, and nephew had.

“We lay you both now to rest,” he said, turning away from the crowd to approach the wide, ornate golden sarcophagus, reverently retrieving the Fire Lord’s ancient crown from where it lay waiting.

It didn’t have to end this way, the princess thought, stealing a last glance at Ozai’s carefully prepared corpse, lying beside and below that of his father on the majestic pyre. You could have been better.

As hard as it seemed to believe now, there had been a time when the prince had at least seemed to make an effort to be a decent husband. Ursa had known from the beginning that she had been wed to him for the blood of her father’s father, of course, but from time to time she could allow herself to forget that and believe that he held some genuine affection for her. That pleasant phase began to wane soon after Zuko’s fire first manifested, and it became clear that despite his above-average status, he was not the incredibly powerful offspring Ozai had hoped for in joining Sozin’s bloodline to the Avatar’s. Ursa had seen the disappointment on his face, the frustration that Zuko would not outshine Lu Ten and thereby upstage the brother in whose shadow he had lived his entire life. Even then, he’d at least tried to nurture the boy into something he could be proud of. He was never soft, but at first, he had not been cruel either.

But with every passing year, with every tale that reached court of Iroh’s successes as a general, with every bit of praise and honor the Fire Lord heaped atop his firstborn, Ozai’s jealous rage had only intensified, and the poisonous glares the prince gave his own firstborn behind his back became more frequent. The maturing of Azula, and the rapid manifestation of her obvious firebending talents, had been the final straw. Ozai began to see himself in his prodigious daughter, and his despised older brother in his less able son, who was to be his heir simply because of birthright. Any bonds that might have existed between parent and child dissolved away, until it came to the point where their own father actively seemed to derive joy in watching Azula humiliate Zuko, as if it were some sort of twisted revenge for his own lifelong neglect in favor of Iroh.

It had been in the aftermath of one such incident, when she’d demanded that he do something to curb the ever-worsening behavior of the daughter that refused to heed her mother, that Ozai had first struck her. He’d shoved her to the ground in a cold fury, had told her that one of such lowly stock had no right to make demands of a prince, and that he would not be questioned by one of his own household. Ursa had stared up into her husband’s eyes, had seen something icy and reptilian staring back, and had known in that moment that any genuine love for his wife, for Zuko, or even for Azula herself had long since vanished. If indeed it had ever existed at all. The unsubtle insinuation that things could become so much worse for herself, for her elderly mother and cousins back home, and for her beloved son if she persisted in attempting to “unman” him hadn’t even been necessary to hammer the point home.

She made a brief effort for the sake of those happier times, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel even a hint of sadness that he was finally gone.

You made your choices, Ursa thought grimly. And you have your reward.

Deliberately, the princess turned her gaze away, and never laid eyes on Ozai again.

Two lesser Fire Sages, dressed in white, approached either side of the ceremonial sarcophagus. With one carefully synchronized move, both men unleashed blasts of fire that enveloped both of the oil-soaked bodies. The yellow-orange flames immediately blazed taller than most men, licking the decorative precious metal roof. The smell of charring flesh mixed with that of the heavy ritual incense, and Ursa fought the temptation to wrinkle her nose. Instead, she gestured just slightly, and her son braced himself.

“As was your dying wish, great Azulon, the succession continues with the line of your second son,” Sheng continued. “With the tragic loss of Prince Ozai, the crown now passes to his firstborn son.”

At that, the eleven-year-old prince stepped forwards, directly to the front of the funeral pyre. Dressed in brand-new clothes of brilliant white and shining gold, his usual phoenix tail replaced by an unadorned topknot courtesy of the royal spa, Ursa could still tell he was nervous from the way that he walked. He knelt at the top of the stairs, and she wished she could see his face from where she stood.

“I crown you,” the older man raised the venerable relic high, “Fire Lord Zuko!”

The High Sage gingerly lowered the crown onto her son’s topknot. Even from here she could tell that it looked oversized. Before Sheng could back off or any bows could be given, the young boy raised his voice in his best approximation of a royal command. It was a bit high-pitched.

“I do not yet deem myself ready to assume these duties,” Zuko said, holding up one hand to call the ceremony to a halt and doing his best to be heard.

“Your majesty?” Sheng asked, as though he had not known this was coming.

“Therefore, in accordance with tradition and ancient custom,” he declared, rising again to his feet with only a slight tremor along his spine. “It is my will that while I come of age and c-complete my studies, that the power of the Dragon Throne should be justly exercised in my stead by a faithful regent,” The new Fire Lord held out his right hand to gesture to the woman behind him. “My mother, Princess Ursa.”

Ursa smiled. He’d remembered all the lines and only stumbled once in front of such a large crowd. She was so proud of him.

“Is this then truly your will, Fire Lord Zuko?” the sage asked. “That another shall rule in your place until you are of age?”

“It is,” her son nodded once, his voice strong and clearer.

“And Princess Ursa,” Sheng continued, and she stepped forward. “Do you then accept the will of the Fire Lord, to take on the honor and burden of leading the Fire Nation in the name of your son?”

This ritual wasn’t strictly necessary for a legal regency, but to have the new Fire Lord and Fire Sages formally proclaim it in the one place where all the capital would be watching would go a long way to adding popular legitimacy to the new leadership and dispel any rumors of instability at the top. Seeing as Ozai’s bride had effectively been a political nonentity until quite literally the night before, every little bit helped.

The princess took a deep breath, then nodded once. “I do,” she proclaimed loudly for all to hear.

“Then let it be done according to the Fire Lord’s will,” he replied. “Kneel, your highness.”

Ursa took one step down the massive flight of stairs, symbolically accepting that she was only a temporary ruler of a lower rank than her son, and then sank smoothly to her knees. The marble was hard and uncomfortable for a woman unused to physical hardship, the sharp edge of the step dug in even through her white robes, but she kept her face carefully controlled. It was vital that the broader public did not see her falter so easily. Behind her, Zuko removed the crown from his own head – no one else had the right to do so in public – and handed it carefully back to Sheng.

I’m sorry, Iroh, she thought mournfully in that moment. Her brother-in-law had never been anything but kind to her, it felt so hideously ungrateful to take part in stealing what was rightfully his right after he had suffered such a horrific loss. If there’s ever a way to make this up to you someday, I swear by Agni I’ll do it.

“Hail to Ursa!” The High Sage said, as he lowered the golden flame headpiece into its place on her topknot. “Hail to the Fire Lady Dowager!” 

Hundreds of banners dipped low and the massive crowd ritually abased itself as the new Fire Lady rose slowly to her feet. Ursa’s golden eyes swept out over the sea of people on their hands and knees, far more than she had seen gathered in a very long time. The former princess felt something in her gut clench tightly. She could only pray she’d just done the right thing.

Chapter Text

The celebratory feast that traditionally marked the beginning of a new Fire Lord’s rule was a rather more muted affair than might be expected, to say the least. With the palace under heavy lockdown by the guards, the nobility in a barely-concealed panic about an assassin who could kill a prince and flee unscathed and unidentified into the night, and the simple fact that Zuko’s ascension had been neither predicted nor particularly wanted by anyone, few of those who were allowed to show up were in much of a celebrating mood. No one dared say anything aloud with the Royal Procession so close at hand, but just from the way that some of the lords and ladies looked at the Fire Lady and her son, Ursa could tell they were wondering how long it would be before General Iroh returned home and quietly deposed the whole lot of them. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure that she would mind that much if he did. The man who had just lost his only son, who had vowed over the grave of his late wife never to wed again, would hardly be looking to whittle his shrunken family down any further.

The whole dinner proved a quiet and formal affair, the sort of thing Ozai had preferred but Ursa had never much enjoyed. There were greetings, well-wishes, toasts, speeches, ritual blessings… but no true human warmth to any of it. The Fire Lady barely knew any of these people, and they in turn barely knew her or her children. They were more puzzled and frightened than excited by what was happening, and by and large she supposed they expected this whole incident to be a temporary aberration that would be solved when a real prince came by to take charge of the situation. She almost swore she could read the lips of Lady Kai’an, a pretty young thing in pink and white, muttering to a neighbor about Azulon going senile.

Still, the ritual of it demanded that the meal last well into the night, unsatisfying and half-hearted as the whole affair was for most everyone involved. Rice wine was involved after a while, though Ursa herself drank little and refused to let more than a sip pass through the lips of her children. By the time that the whole thing was over, both Zuko and Azula looked bored and half-asleep, and she wasn’t doing much better. Taking off the crown and robes and collapsing into a massively oversized bed that she no longer had to share with anyone came as quite the relief.

The next morning’s breakfast was a much more modest affair – save of course for the new robes of office that Ursa was to wear, with their flaring black shoulders rimmed in gold. Zuko didn’t seem to mind much, but the prolonged stare Azula gave her when she first appeared in the doorway worried her more than a little. Regardless, the reduced family ate together in relative calm, and she was at least pleased to see that neither of her children were overtly antagonizing the other this morning.

The morning meal was drawing to a close when the servants arrived, bearing scrolls for each of the little heirs. Zuko looked down at his rather glumly, while his sister seemed more puzzled than anything. The nominal Fire Lord had to leave first, escorted to an early-morning session on some of the elementary principles of Fire Nation statecraft after a few encouraging words and a pat on the back from his mother.

“Mom,” Azula spoke up almost immediately after her brother was gone, peering down at the scroll, “someone messed up on here.”  

“Hmm?” the new ruler looked over the princess’ shoulder but spotted nothing obviously amiss. “Everything looks correct to me. What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“There’s only two hours of firebending training on my schedule,” her daughter said.

“Azula,” Ursa raised an eyebrow, “that’s the standard advanced curriculum allotment for children your age.”

“Dad had me doing six every day at least, though. Sometimes eight, if we took time out of history classes.”

Why does that not surprise me?

“There’s more to a princess’ life than learning more ways to throw fire,” she replied. “Don’t you want to be a well-rounded young lady?”

“Painting, calligraphy, music, etiquette?” Azula made a face. “How is any of that supposed to help me? I need more about firebending and tactics to be stronger, not this stuff.”

“What do you suppose that you need those things for, dear?” the Fire Lady asked in a worried tone. “Why do you think they should dominate your education to the exclusion of all else?”

“I’ll need them for when I go to war, where else?” she said matter-of-factly, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Go to… go to war?!” Ursa’s eyes bulged. “Azula, where in the world did you get the idea that you were going to war?!”

Her little daughter cocked her head curiously, and something inside the Fire Lady’s heart melted. She knew right where Azula had gotten that idea.

My child… Ursa thought, what did that man do to you?

“Azula,” she said, in a much softer voice. “You will be, at the very oldest, fourteen when the war is over. We’re already inexorably winning across the continent, despite the defeat at Ba Sing Se. The return of Sozin’s Comet will see us completely victorious. Why then would you imagine I would be desperate enough to send a child to war? My own child, at that?”

“I’m not just a child,” the little girl said. “I’m a firebending prodigy. Wouldn’t I be a valuable weapon for the Fire Nation?”

“You are nine years old!” Her mother cried. “You should not even be thinking of such things, much less imagining that anyone would deploy you to the battlefield!”

“Dad said it’s never too early to start thinking about-”

“Forget what your father said!” Ursa burst out.

Azula started a little, then blinked and stared upwards.

“Azula,” the Fire Lady knelt down, putting both hands on her daughter’s shoulders and staring her straight in the eyes. “If you don’t believe anything else that I say, then believe this: I will never make you go to war. I will never send you off to the battlefield.”

“…Why not?” Azula looked genuinely puzzled. “I’m not your favorite.”

Ursa’s jaw dropped.

The country’s new ruler wrapped her arms completely around the little princess, pulling her in close to her chest. Azula’s little face pressed up against the elaborate black and gold silk ornamentation that marked Ursa’s robes as a Fire Lady’s.

“Listen to me,” Ursa squeezed her daughter tight, “Listen to me. No matter how angry I may sometimes get at you, you are still my daughter. You will always be my daughter. I will always love you. I will always care for you. I am not looking to send you away. I will never look to send you away. Please,” she muttered quietly, rubbing Azula’s back with one hand, “tell me that you understand me. Tell me that you believe that.”

“I…” there was a moment’s hesitation, followed by the feel of small arms wrapping lightly around the Fire Lady’s own back. “I believe you.”

Ursa hoped desperately that that was true.

Zuko watched and listened as one of his new tutors, an old man by the name of Fa, drew another character onto the increasingly complicated web representing the imperial bureaucracy, and felt like his head was about to explode. He was supposed to be getting the simplified version for his first day, but there were already over twenty different ministries and sub-ministries of the state depicted on the sheet and it wasn’t even done yet.

It was almost as bad as that time when he was seven and Azula had stolen his favorite stuffed turtleduck. He’d looked for it all afternoon, only for her to stand outside his window that very night and set the toy’s head on fire right in front of him, grinning all the while. Mom had been furious. Dad said not to worry about it, that she was just playing around as little girls do.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Fan’s voice interrupted his bad memory.

“Whuh?” Zuko looked up, from where he’d been staring down at his own sheet of paper and the various scribbles contained on it.

“Your majesty, it is crucial that you understand every aspect of the governance of our empire if you’re to prove an effective successor to your illustrious grandfather,” he told the boy.

“But I was paying attention, honest!”  

“Really? Then recite for me what I just explained regarding the differences between the Sub-Ministry of Yields and the Sub-Ministry of Allocation within the greater Ministry of Agriculture.”

“Umm… one is about figuring out how much food there is and the other is about deciding where it gets sent to?”

“…Okay, admittedly that was an easy one,” the old man replied. “But I still saw you not paying attention while I was talking,” he crossed his arms and tapped one foot on the ground. “And that will simply not do. If you persist in this, I will have to bring it to your mother’s attention.”

Being Fire Lord stunk. Zuko couldn’t imagine why Dad had wanted the job.

Dad… The young Fire Lord sighed and shook his head, ignoring the glare he got from his teacher.

He missed Dad. True, Prince Ozai hadn’t been the most… affectionate of dads, but he was still Dad. The ruler to be felt sure that Father really did love his son under it all. He was just under a lot of pressure to live up to Uncle’s legacy in front of his own dad, and that’s why he pushed Zuko so hard. He had just wanted his son to be strong and clever, like Azula was, in case the burden of leading the country ever fell to him. That wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

He hadn’t known Grandpa well enough to feel much about him, but Lu Ten had told him years ago that Azulon had a softer side that came out when you spent enough time around him. Zuko wished he had gotten to see that before his distant grandfather passed. He wished that Father was here to take this job if Uncle didn’t want it, and maybe that once he didn’t have to work so hard to try and impress his own dad then he’d have taken it easier on Zuko. He hoped Mom would find whoever killed him soon and put him in the dungeon forever.

At least he could take comfort in the fact that Azula had been lying, again. Grandpa and Dad would never have done that to him, not really. And at least Mom was still here.

“Fire Lord Zuko!” Fan’s voice suddenly cut in again. “What Sub-Ministry performs naval procurement functions within the Ministry of War?”

“Um…” the young boy paused, then offered a feeble grin.

His teacher was looking less than amused.

Mother is trying to weaken me, Azula told herself silently. There’s no other explanation.

The young princess sat in a small palace courtyard with an older woman named Anzi, a broad sheet of white paper before her and a brush in hand. A broad palette of colors was spread out to her right-hand side, with a small assortment of finely shaped fruit set in front of her. Her soft-voiced, slightly wrinkled tutor was taking the time to carefully demonstrate how to get smooth, precise strokes of pigment on her own paper, set up for display right where Azula could see it. They were beginning with simple shapes, arranged in a basic pattern. Despite her excellent hand-eye coordination, the princess was finding to her own annoyance that her efforts to copy a basic apple were coming through looking more like an ill-proportioned red blob.

This was time-wasting nonsense, just as Father had always said. What good would it do a princess of the world’s mightiest empire to know about art? It might be fine for a lowly merchant or some pampered aristocratic housewife to learn how to produce beautiful things for their betters’ pleasure, but her destiny was to crush her enemies beneath her heel and dominate the earth. Knowing how to paint wouldn’t help her do that and was therefore something that ought to be discarded without a second thought.

What had she been thinking yesterday? Wondering if Mom’s worldview might have more to it than simple weakness of character? The whole idea of sacrificing firebending time for these worthless new classes proved that Ursa’s path was useless to her. There was no hidden strength to be found here.

Obviously, the sheer surprise and terror of losing Dad so suddenly had gotten to her, had cracked her mental defenses for a short while. That was a weakness Father would not approve of, one she would have to purge on her own. But she could do it. She was a true prodigy, after all. Mom approved only of comfortable softness like her own, but Azula wouldn’t succumb to neediness and weakness like Ursa’s, no matter how tempting that her warm embrace might be.

Of course, it was inevitable that Ursa would attempt to weaken Azula if she wasn’t going to try and dispose of her outright. Mom knew deep inside how pathetic she herself was. She obviously couldn’t have her daughter managing to follow through on her promise to challenge and crush her precious little Zuzu in an Agni Kai when the time came after all, still less dispose of Ozai’s weaker offspring altogether in a completely legal manner while poor Ursa could only sit by and weep. She feared her daughter, and rightly so, and as such would need to do all she could to suppress Azula’s inherent superiority. Something would have to be done over the next few years to deal with the errant prodigy before she could threaten Mother’s favorite.  

Even when that idea had first occurred to her, Azula hadn’t imagined that Mom would have the steel to outright eliminate her unwanted child personally. But continuing her little monster’s training as before and then sending her on a boat over the horizon at first opportunity, as was practically family tradition at this point? That had sounded convenient. Somewhere where Ozai’s protegee would be far out of the way, and unable to establish herself as a political player. And if the princess happened to meet a sticky end on some distant battlefield where the sight of her corpse wouldn’t unduly upset Ursa’s delicate stomach, so much the better. But the older woman had seemed so adamant that that wasn’t the case, that she had no such plans, and the little girl hadn’t been able to spot any sign of dishonesty on her face.

Maybe Azula would wind up married off to some nobleman in one of the more distant colonies if she didn’t turn out “right”, then? Such a marriage contract was well within an ordinary noble mother’s power to arrange with the consent of the father at a young age, still less a Fire Lady’s. It would be a cushy enough existence not to make Mom feel faint, and far enough away to render her effectively harmless to Zuzu. Unworthy of her, but at least it probably beat whatever fate Father had ultimately had in mind for her older brother.

The middle-aged lady was droning on about shading and something called color theory now, and the princess imagined herself setting the paper and brush in front of her on fire, then the teacher’s skirt as well. That would be amusing, as well as a fitting punishment for daring to waste a princess’ valuable time. Under Dad, she probably could have completely gotten away with something like that as long as the actual burns inflicted were relatively minor and the tutor wasn’t prominent enough to cause offense to someone important. But Mom had made it very clear that things were going to be different from now on, and she quite literally held the power of life and death over everyone in the palace. So, however irritable she felt, Azula was forced to just sit back and take it.

Whatever she said, Ursa did not properly love Azula, of that the princess could be sure. Even her love for Zuzu was malformed and improper, more a result of crude sentimentalism and weakness than anything. It was based on how comfortable he made her more than a rational analysis of his worthiness of it. So how could she know how to properly love her superior daughter? Father had always said that Mother merely feared her power, feared what she could one day become with proper guidance, like his.

Love did not demand that she be weak so a sad old woman wouldn’t feel afraid of her. Azula knew what being truly loved felt like. It felt like the smile in the corner of Father’s mouth when he witnessed her master a new move. It felt like the pride in his eyes when she proved her supremacy by dominating and intimidating her lessers or humiliating her pathetic brother. It felt like being valued most because she was so much better than everyone else and it wanted her to become more valuable. Real love was devoid of sentiment, like Father.

Proper love meant that she did what she wanted, because what she wanted was correct, and was elevated for being so perfect. It meant rewards for her power and approval for her ruthlessness because those qualities made her strong and valuable, not discipline or demands that she change for the worse. Since she was so much better in every way that mattered it meant more rewards and approval for her than Zuko. All of Mother’s warm hugs and soft words could never change that.

Even if they did feel nice.

But… there was a niggling voice of doubt at the back of Azula’s mind that refused to be silenced so easily. Father had said Mother feared her because she was so superior, so much stronger in body and mind than weak Ursa, who only wanted to feel safe by dragging Azula down to her level like she did with Zuko. If Mom properly loved her daughter, he’d told her, then she would want her to be strong and clever like Dad, because that was best for her and she deserved only the best. But then all of Father’s vaunted power had failed him, come the end. Mother had wound up with everything that he had ever wanted, while he had died miserably, lacking even the dignity of being able to fight back. So how could cunning and fighting skills be the most important things for her to learn if they were so easily overcome?

What if… she had been wrong? What did it mean if rewarding ruthlessness and displays of power and indulging her every whim weren’t the truest displays of love? Had Mother really been on to something the whole time? Could she be on to anything now? No, Azula reassured herself, that was impossible. She was too smart, too clever, too aware of the true nature of things to be so easily misled. Maybe she had called a few events incorrectly, but she could not be wrong on such a fundamental question of existence.

As she sat there, brush in hand, struggling to put color to paper in a pleasing fashion, the nagging questions continued to pop up in her mind. And Azula always beat them down with the same answers, telling herself over and over again that she was certain, she was correct, she was perfect, and her surety would return in due time.

Azula always lied.

Fire Lady Ursa was a woman used to a certain level of material affluence. Her family estate back home on Wennuan Island was modest compared to many of those in the capital, but it had never lacked for quiet comfort. As Princess, her household had received a substantial stipend from the Royal Treasury, and Ozai had had no small amount of personal wealth. So, when she had first gone to look at the status of the Royal Household’s finances to start the day, the new interim ruler had thought she’d had some idea of what to expect.

She hadn’t.

The fantastic level of wealth recorded on these ledgers was simply mind-boggling to behold, so much so that Ursa had rubbed her eyes a few times just to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things. Between regular income in the form of tariffs, taxes, gifts, plunder from the war front, and innumerable investments as well as the existing reserves, the sheer amount of money now at her disposal would make throwing around tens of thousands of gold pieces no more concerning than replacing a worn pair of shoes. Fire Lord Azulon clearly hadn’t wasted a thing over his three quarters of a century as the Fire Nation’s absolute ruler.

He was more careful with coin than the lives of his grandchildren, the Fire Lady wrinkled her nose in disgust as she peered through another thick tome of meticulously documented figures.

Still, whatever else he had been, the old man had not managed one of the longest and most successful reigns in Fire Nation history by being a poor administrator. Azulon’s last gift to his successor came in a form of a well-organized bureaucratic apparatus spread throughout the length and breadth of the empire, feeding a constant stream of reports and queries to the palace. A pile of papers was already stacked neatly on her new desk when she arrived in the Fire Lord’s personal office, having only a day’s worth of backlog and already several inches thick.

Governor Lee of Jingling died of a sudden chill? Ursa thought as she read just one of the papers, and wished she had a clue who that even was. She supposed that she’d have to consult Minister Xi of Domestic Affairs regarding a potential replacement. Maybe Li Jie, Azulon’s old spymaster, had some files on relevant nobility in the region.

Azulon would have known just who to pick, of course. The canny old man would probably have already lined up the perfect successor to fit neatly into his tightly ordered administrative machine that had maintained his rule for so long. Until age had caught up with him during his last years, he had always had such a sharp mind and nearly perfect memory. He would have remembered just who in that part of the world he could count on to be a loyal ally to the throne, and who might harbor corrupt ambitions. Ursa, who had no such knowledge of who outside the palace was an ally and who a potential foe, was not quite so lucky. She sighed and set that document aside for later, vowing she’d resolve the issue after a few private chats with some advisors.

There were so many other documents pertaining to issues that the new ruler only barely understood, if at all. Permissions for building damns and factories, reports from naval squadrons patrolling Earth Kingdom waters, requests for funding for monuments and public works, proposed additions to the educational system, estimates for the expected draw from next year’s round of conscription, progress reports on the new military shipyard under construction at Zhuzao, and so many others. As she read over one proposal for a vastly expanded network of bathhouses in the colony of Bai Haian to deal with the increasing outbreaks of disease in the region, it finally dawned on Ursa that this was her life now. There would be no more long, sunny, carefree afternoons, when Ozai was far away and she could pretend all was peaceful and calm. No, now the weight of an empire and the lives of everyone in it rested squarely on her shoulders.

Sun Father give me strength, she thought with eyes closed.

Ursa did the best that she could on her first day. Where she felt that the papers that she got and the small library's worth of books stacked on shelves throughout the office contained enough information to make a decision on her own, she did so. Where they did not, or the subject matter was so utterly unfamiliar to her that she did not feel qualified to judge one way or another, she set it aside for the moment and vowed to return after consulting with someone who knew what they were talking about. She still worried when she affixed her signature and seal to several of the scrolls, approving or rejecting various proposals simply on the weight of her own judgement. But she was conscious that she could not bring everything before councilors without appearing excessively weak and indecisive, which would only encourage people to plot against her.

It took the Fire lady Dowager a good many hours to work her way through everything that had turned up on her desk, going straight through the morning and taking lunch right where she was before continuing well into the afternoon. It was two and a half hours past midday when Ursa could finally sit back and breathe, and that was only by postponing a number of decisions until later. She sat back in her new chair, mentally drained from the unfamiliar effort, and rang for a servant to bring her some tea. When the handmaiden returned with it, the ruler dispatched her to fetch Commander Aiguo as well. He, at the very least, had proven trustworthy enough and she needed some pieces of advice more urgently than others.

There was a war meeting she would need to attend today, after all.

Present for the late afternoon meeting were Generals Ten, Bujing, Akio, and Jianjun, and Admirals Chan, Bohai, Jinhai, and Kaito. The eight highest-ranking officers left in the capital, those of Fire Lord Azulon’s military council that were not currently abroad. One very prominent place at the table, the one closest to and at the right hand of the Dragon Throne, was to be left conspicuously empty. Ursa took one last calming breath to steady her nerves, swallowed, and pushed the curtain aside.

One and all, the faces that turned to look at her as she entered were either completely stoic or just as deferential as protocol demanded and not a hint more. Several of them shot brief glares at Ursa as she passed, when they thought she wasn’t looking. These were career military men, and she knew they unanimously would have preferred the great war hero General Iroh on the throne to the untried, untested wife of a second son. Truthfully, so would she.  But circumstances had conspired to make trying to wait weeks for his return too risky for her children to make that an acceptable option.

Ursa didn’t know anything more about war than what rudimentary things a few hours frantic reading and last-minute conversations with Commander Aiguo could tell her. It had only been at the latter’s advice that she declined to bring bodyguards into the meeting itself. That would only have confirmed her fear and weakness in the officers’ eyes. The throne room had already been swept for assassins, and the assembled command staff weren’t about to attack her openly with so many guards posted just outside, no matter how many of them might secretly prefer her dead to seated up above them. It was crucial, the old soldier had told her, that Azulon’s general staff perceive their new leader as strong and unwavering from the very beginning if she was ever to command even a hint of respect in their eyes.

Right, Ursa did her best to keep her face emotionless, despite feeling like her heart was caught in her throat. Strong and unwavering.

The new Fire Lady at least managed to ascend the steps to the throne with due grace and poise, before making her way over to Sozin’s venerable seat. Taking one more gulp of air, she concentrated and sent twin bursts of fire into the metal, oil-filled grooves cut into the wooden floor on either side of the throne. The flames that erupted by her will were soft and yellow, with barely a hint of orange visible anywhere, and noticeably lower than those she’d always seen conjured by Azulon. But at least they were there, and she should be able to maintain them with what meager bending talent she had. 

Ursa settled onto the throne for the first time, cross-legged and straight-backed, and called the meeting to order.

The first few minutes were a simple review of the current strategic situation on the Earth Kingdom continent, as portrayed by small stone figurines on a massive map spread across the floor. It was probably conducted more for her benefit than that of the officers’. The picture that they painted was not a cheery one.

After the death of Prince Lu Ten and the failure of the Siege of Ba Sing Se, the Fire Nation’s vast army in the northeastern Earth Kingdom was in shambles. Reports from the front indicated that morale, already shaky from almost two straight years of grinding siege warfare against the most heavily fortified city on the planet, had all but collapsed in the wake of their retreat. Their supplies were running low, their casualties were high, they were only a few weeks from the onset of the harsh northern winter, and from what little could be discerned from such a distance their famed general appeared to have fallen into what could either be battle shock or a complete depressive fugue. Ursa felt that she understood completely. Losing a fine young man like Lu Ten as a nephew she hadn’t seen properly in years was painful enough, to lose him as an only son…

“For nearly two years the Fire Nation has invested nearly all of our efforts on the continent in forcing a breach into the so-called impenetrable city, turning down several opportunities for offensives elsewhere in order to feed more troops to General Iroh’s assault, I might add,” General Bujing concluded his part of the overview by looking around at the others. “We cannot allow all of that effort to go waste.”

“What are you saying?” asked Admiral Jinhai.

“I’m saying that if General Iroh is no longer fit to lead our army, then he must be replaced at once with a new commanding officer that is.”

Like you, I wonder? Ursa thought, frowning a little.

Bujing clenched his fist. “We must press the attack now, before it is too late! The earthbenders may have reclaimed their battered outer wall, but they will not have had time to affect adequate repairs, nor to replenish their own heavy losses. If we immediately resume the offensive under a proper commander, we can force the breach once again before they can do more than erect small temporary walls to close it.”

“We were in there once before, General,” General Ten pointed out. “And found merely miles of farmland stretched out in front of us, with just another wall at the end of it all. How will this time be different?”

“Our troops made their way inside the enemy’s Agrarian Zone before and merely sought to occupy it. This time,” the man smiled in a way that the Fire Lady found both deeply unpleasant and disturbingly familiar, “I propose that we burn it. The harvest season is not yet over, and surely the war must have disrupted their efforts to bring food into the city in any case. If we can force our way back inside quickly enough, we can slaughter their livestock and set wildfires to scorch their fields down to the bedrock before the cold sets in. Let the earthbenders try and eat their own rocks over the winter!”

“You realize that if we raze the Agrarian Zone, there will be no way to feed more than a small portion of Ba Sing Se for months even if the city does surrender?” Admiral Chan pointed out. “Our logistical infrastructure in the region simply couldn’t handle that kind of demand.”

“Your point being?” General Jianjun asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It seems… wasteful,” the admiral replied.

“And speaking of waste,” General Ten cut in, “you seem to be assuming that our army is in any fit state to fight right now. All our reports point to the opposite being the case. They’re exhausted, demoralized, and low on supplies. They may not even be capable of forcing the breach at all.”

“Our reports are filtered through the perspective of General Iroh, and thus cannot be deemed wholly reliable at the moment,” Bujing declared.

Several of the officers around the table visibly bristled at that insinuation, Ten outright glared at other general.

“All I am saying is that the picture being painted is heavily colored by the loss of one particular soldier, and thus should not be taken as being wholly free from bias,” the man went on. “Our army is likely to be in better fighting shape than is being portrayed, with higher spirits than its current leadership.”

“And what if it isn’t?” Chan leaned forward. “We risk the complete collapse of an army of over two hundred thousand men if we attempt to force them back into action prematurely and they are defeated again.”

“A risk well worth taking, if it means the eradication of the Earth Kingdom’s greatest remaining stronghold,” Bujing countered. “And a risk that could have been avoided altogether if not for the… excessive timidity of its current commander.”

“You overstep yourself,” General Akio hissed across the map. “General Iroh is no coward.”

“If that were true then the death of a single soldier would not-”

“Enough!” Ursa cut in, raising her voice for the first time during the proceedings. Eight pairs of eyes suddenly swung around to face her, while she did her level best to make the flames around her flare. There was a moment of pregnant silence in the throne room, broken only by the crackle of yellow fire.

“Enough, General Bujing,” the Fire Lady went on. “We have heard your proposed plan of action. Now,” she looked out over the rest of them and prayed that her face didn’t show her nerves, “let us hear if there is an alternative.”

“If I may, my lady?” General Ten asked.

“You may,” she nodded at him.

“Our navy retains full control over West Lake, does it not, Admiral?” he asked, looking pointedly at Jinhai.

“The Earth Kingdom’s understrength fleet of obsolete wooden ships hasn’t been a serious threat to the Fire Navy in decades, and you know that perfectly well,” the man nodded. “Our ships move freely across everything west of Serpent’s Pass.”

“We still have some weeks before winter sets in,” Ten said, reaching out with a stick to push a number of small figurines across the map. “Enough time for our navy to ferry our army northwest, across the lake and out of reach of any enemy counterattack. We can remove our soldiers to the colonies and bases we have scattered up and down the coastline. Our troops could then rest and regroup over the winter, receive supplies and reinforcements, and rotate out frontline units in need of leave. Then we could be sure our largest army on the continent would be in a fit state to fight come the spring.”

“And give up on taking Ba Sing Se?!” Jianjun sounded outraged.

“What do we need to take the city for right this moment, save to sate our impatience?” Ten countered, looking around for support. “In five short years the walls of Ba Sing Se will mean nothing. Why do we have to gamble so many of our troops now in a second assault with such dim prospects of success? What do we gain from it?”

Some of the other high officers nodded along, though not all of them.

“To accept such a defeat meekly and come home with our tails between our legs is a slap in the face to the honor of the Fire Nation!” Bujing said.

“And to needlessly sacrifice tens of thousands more loyal sons for an even dimmer prospect of victory than before isn’t?” Admiral Chan asked.

“Those men offered up their lives to our nation the moment they put on their uniforms,” he argued. “To die in battle for their homeland’s glory is the greatest honor any soldier could hope for.”

“Are you volunteering to be in the front rank of the charge, then?” Ten asked, getting a few slight chuckles from some of his allies.

“Don’t be absurd,” Bujing bristled and shook his head. “My duty lies elsewhere.”

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make,” Ten said with a faint smile, eyes wandering up to the throne. “Your majesty,” he asked, “does this proposal meet with your approval?”

A number of the council glared disapprovingly at him, but he kept staring straight up at her. Their eyes met briefly, and Ursa thought that the canny old general already had a good idea of whose side their new liege might come down on.

“…It does,” she told the assembled men, some of whom looked mildly surprised while others scowled. “General Bujing, your plan asks us to risk too much for prospects of success that are too slim. General Iroh has ever been a loyal and capable commander. I see no reason to presume that his assessment of the situation on the ground is anything but accurate.”

“My lady,” Bujing said, with just a hint of condescension to his tone, “I understand that your experience in these matters is limited. Perhaps-”

“I did not ask for any further input from you, General,” the Fire Lady put on her finest stern glare and looked right down at him. “General Ten’s plan offers the Fire Nation better prospects of future success.”

And avoids needless deaths.

“Therefore,” she did her level best to sound regal, “let it be done.”

There was a tense moment as their eyes met, where Ursa wondered if the general would openly challenge her authority. She was neither the master firebender nor the seasoned veteran that her predecessor on this seat had been, nor was she of royal blood in her own right. Her claim to lead rested almost entirely on a forged will, the expressed wishes of an eleven-year-old boy, and the fact that General Iroh had happened to be far away from the center of power when his father expired. Very few of the nation’s elite were yet heavily invested in the new regime. One strong push might just be enough to topple it.

But… they were all here, sitting in the heart of what fragile power she did possess. The Imperial Firebenders, and thus the palace itself, were at least loyal to the Royal Family and by extension its last adult member in Caldera City. General Bujing did not have the social status to demand the right of Agni Kai with the likes of even a Fire Lady Dowager, no one would think it improper for such a challenge to be met with his being thrown into a cell for insolence. Perhaps most importantly of all, no officer of any rank had survived long under the likes of Azulon by being especially uppity, and old habits die hard.

“As you will it then, my lady,” Bujing said, looking down and bowing his head briefly.

The rest of the war meeting was simply a matter of details. Now that General Ten’s plan had been decided upon, all that was left was to arrange the particulars of how best to accomplish it. On this, Ursa had little to say. She had no knowledge of the speed and troop transport capacities of Empire-class battleships versus those of Azulon-class battlecruisers or ordinary Sovereign-class cruisers, nor how much food and coal the average division could be expected to consume at rest in the winter months, nor an understrength armored regiment’s requirements for machine oil and replacement parts, nor the comparative capacities of various colonies for hosting fighting men. Many of the figures thrown around were completely foreign to her, but she kept her face level and occasionally nodded when it looked like a consensus was being reached. She hoped Fire Lord Azulon had considered intervening on such minor matters beneath his attention.

It took more than an hour and a half to iron out all of the details, but at last a general strategic plan for the following months was formed. There was much for the Fire Nation to do to prepare its armies for the general withdrawal and hunkering down at the end of the campaigning season, so she dismissed the meeting with all the authority and good grace she could muster. As protocol demanded, Ursa rose first from her seat and proceeded to sweep from the room as majestically as she could. Though her head hurt from the stress of maintaining even those low yellow flames for such an extended period, she brushed past the curtains feeling cautiously triumphant. She had made it through her first war meeting without any major faux pas that she had noticed, and made it clear to the upper ranks of the military that while she would take advice she would not simply be pushed around, however inexperienced she might be.

Maybe, she thought, I… really can do this.

She made it three whole days before the first assassination attempt.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until her third day in her new station, mere hours after receiving word that General Iroh had acceded to her request to return home, that Ursa found herself with any time on her hands. The Fire Nation was a well-ordered autocracy, but it was also highly centralized and very much used to receiving directives from the top. That meant most of the biggest decisions invariably found their way to the Fire Lord’s attention, and that meant a great deal of time spent pouring over books and reports behind a desk, consulting with ministers and advisors, or hearing petitions on a throne. A day of backlog and the headache of imperial transition only added to the workload. But eventually a time came when the biggest issues demanding her immediate attention had received an answer, the children were busy with their tutors, and the Fire Lady had a small part of one sunny afternoon to herself.

The last few days had been stressful, to put it mildly. Seizing a position that she had never trained for or aspired to turned out to mean a lot of on the job learning even in such a short time, with the promise of so much more to come. She barely knew what she was doing even with detailed reports and extensive bureaucratic records constantly at her fingertips and could only pray her decisions weren’t treading too harshly on someone’s toes by complete accident. But no one, Ursa hoped, would blame the new interim ruler for desiring a few moments of rest.

The many private gardens in the villas surrounding the main palace structure had always been calming, their quiet beauty a fond relief from the daily realities of court life as the wife of the second prince. They were even better when the children were there, presuming of course they weren’t fighting, but even when she was alone, they had always been a soothing balm for the many troubles plaguing her mind. That, she hoped, would remain unchanged.

Of course, getting there was a bit more complicated than before. As a mere princess by marriage and court lady, walking between the palace and the gardens in the company of a few servants or even alone was far from unheard of, as Fire Lady with an assassin lurking about things would be different. It obviously wouldn’t do for even an interim ruler to be seen as on the same level as the masses – a palanquin was simply necessary. And likewise allowing her to wander out of sight of protectors was utterly out of the question. All in all, her new role meant that the simple act of walking out a gate and across two streets now required several minutes of preparation and a small entourage. Another thing she was just going to have to get used to.

By the time that the outer palace gates creaked open to admit Ursa’s little procession, a small crowd had had time to gather. It had always been a scene whenever the Fire Lord or Crown Prince Iroh left the palace, back when the former had been alive and the latter had been around, but seeing dozens of ordinary citizens drop their normal afternoon activities and surround the cordon of guards just to catch a glimpse of her was honestly a little unnerving. She didn’t think such a small thing warranted so much time spent or attention given.

When her palanquin moved, the crowd of curious onlookers moved with it, only growing larger as more curious passersby stopped whatever they were doing for a glance. As their numbers swelled, the crowd grew bolder and pressed more closely into the Imperial Firebenders, who responded by tightening their cordon and shoving back hard whenever anyone got too near for their liking. Out of the corner of her eye, the Fire Lady saw a middle-aged man get pushed forward by a mass of people behind him, then get knocked backwards onto the ground by a quick jab from one of the soldiers. Feeling a surge of pity for the man and certainly not wanting him to get trampled, she opened her mouth to ask someone to help him up.

That was the moment she saw the glint of steel.

Ursa had no time to react. One second, she was just about to speak, the next there was the briefest flash of sunlight reflecting off highly polished metal. Something small and almost imperceptibly fast shot through a small gap in the crowd to her left. Before she could react, before she could so much as blink, a figure in red twisted hurriedly to throw itself in the way. There was a dull thunk, followed by a muffled grunt of pain from not three feet away from where she sat. The guard moaned, then collapsed backwards against the palanquin, shaking it noticeably. By then, the screaming had already started.

Desperate assassinations on unsuspecting targets aside, Ursa was not a woman accustomed to violence. Her parents hadn’t thought it proper for a lady of breeding, one who would never be so poor as to make joining the Domestic Forces a necessity for her family, to concern herself overmuch with blood and death, and as a gentle tempered woman she’d agreed with them. Beyond a few schoolyard tussles in her youth, she’d never been in a proper fight with a prepared opponent in her life. So, it was perhaps unsurprising that her first instinct in that moment was to freeze up, as if that would somehow make her a less conspicuous target.

The Fire Lady was very fortunate that her guards were not so inclined. All around her, the crowd was beginning to surge as men and women alike noticed what had just happened, or saw the panic-stricken faces of their fellows, or were just getting shoved around by people suddenly very eager to be absolutely anywhere else. They might have swarmed over the little entourage entirely if the professional soldiers of the Royal Procession hadn’t immediately reacted by closing their lines and zeroing in on the rough space where the projectile had come from. Though the attacker could not have gone far in such a densely packed space in less than four seconds’ time, it was next to impossible to pick out an individual figure in the terrified masses.

Though they served a new liege, Ursa received a firm reminder that these were still Azulon’s men – when they fired into the crowd without hesitation.

Panicked screams and agonized wails melded with flares of orange-yellow and the smell of burning flesh as four separate men thrust out their fists and bathed the area immediately in front of them in small cones of flame. The ruler watched in shock and more than a little horror as several civilians collapsed to the white stone streets with red scorch marks on their skin, some with hair or clothes aflame. All around them, other civilians ran screaming in all directions.

The Imperial Firebenders, those that weren’t shielding their lady as closely as possible, advanced swiftly, shoving burned men and women into the ground and pinning them there with brutal efficiency. One of the men who had been singled out, a brown-haired, middle-aged fellow in the robes of a scribe with a prominent beard, a few streaks of grey on his scalp, and an ugly fresh burn on his left shoulder, forced his way up from the ground with one hand. Ursa had never seen him before in her life, but the sheer level of hate visible in his eyes even through the semitransparent gauze curtains of the palanquin was enough to make her flinch.

“You’re all traitors!” the man screamed at the approaching soldiers as he drew a second knife from somewhere in his long sleeve.

He never got the chance to use it. Two of the firebenders immediately lashed out with more flames, this time far more focused. Her would-be killer was hurled backwards across the road by the sheer force of them, skin and clothes alike igniting in the waves of heat. The assailant hit the stone roughly on his back a considerable distance away, his scorched chest visible through tattered robes and his face a ruin of reddened and in places outright blackened flesh. He could barely raise his neck or crack open a single eye when three soldiers rushed forward to all but pile on top of him. As men and women in all shades of red and pink continued to scatter every which way all around them, the firebenders wrenched the man’s hands behind his back so roughly that one of his shoulders audibly dislocated, before hoisting him to his feet.

“Long… live… F-Fire Lord… I-Iroh…” the assassin spat through gritted teeth, before his head slumped forward. He hung limply in the guards’ grasp, which didn’t cause them to let up even slightly.

“My lady,” one of the guards that had remained by Ursa’s side hissed urgently, his crest identifying him as a lieutenant, “We should get you back inside without delay! He might not have been acting alone.”

Ursa stared blankly, heart hammering in her chest. The overwhelming stench of burnt flesh and cloth filled her nostrils, distance shrieks and the pained sobbing of at least seven random strangers was ringing in her ears. A soldier was lying, half-slumped and unmoving, against the side of her palanquin. Scattered about the feet of her escort were injured men and women who had committed no crime beyond being in the wrong place at the wrong time. As she half-consciously reached out one manicured hand and waved it to extinguish the still-crackling fire that had consumed half a young girl’s hair, the Fire Lady felt the crushing weight that came from the knowledge that all of this was at least partially her responsibility.

All she had wanted was to visit her favorite gardens.

“…Y-Yes,” she eventually managed, battling the nausea that was already threatening to overtake her. “Do that.”

“Private Zhi was dead before he reached the palace gates,” Commander Aiguo delivered his report to a visibly shaken Ursa several minutes later. “The blade was poisoned. Something fast-acting and extremely dangerous. It only just penetrated his chest armor and didn’t touch any of his vitals, but he still expired in under a minute.”

The Fire Lady sat behind a desk in her office, surrounded once more by tightly packed soldiers, a piping-hot kettle of ginseng tea set before her and a porcelain cup of the steaming brew clasped in both hands. She tried not to let them shake too much as she brought the beverage up to her lips for another sip of the fortifying stuff and didn’t quite succeed.

“…I’m sorry for his loss,” she bowed her head. “I didn’t think…”

“…He did his duty, ma’am,” the officer said stoically.

“That…” Ursa took another drink and did her best to seem composed. “That he did. Did he have any family?”

“I’m unaware one way or the other,” he admitted. “We were not closely acquainted.”

“Please, have someone find out for me. I want to extend my condolences personally, if possible,” she sighed heavily, looking down into her cup.

She had known, intellectually, that upon taking up this role people would be dying in her name, but to see it happen so swiftly, and so close at hand…

And all because of a foolish whim… Ursa had to fight the temptation to shake her head. If I hadn’t decided to go out right that moment, would anyone have had to die? Was the man waiting around outside for a chance to strike, or was it a coincidence he was there today?

“It will be done, majesty,” he bowed his head briefly.

“And…” the Fire Lady straightened up with some effort. “What of the innocents caught up in this?”

“We cannot be sure that they are all innocents,” Aiguo said, “but of those who did not openly participate in the attack on your person, most have merely first and second-degree burns. Presuming that no infections develop, our healers think they should live without excessive debilitation. There will be scarring, of course.”

Of course, she thought, feeling guilty at the thought of her own people left deformed by the consequences of a mere idle desire of hers.

“Inform the healers that they are to spare no expense in treating these people,” she told another man standing by, a scribe by the name of Tai. “The crown will cover the costs.”

I owe them no less.

“Keep me apprised of their condition, and their readiness to receive visitors,” she continued. “I would go and see them myself, when they are suitably prepared.”

“That is very generous of you, my lady,” the man replied, in a tone which suggested that he didn’t entirely approve. Ursa frowned a little, and he lowered his head more deferentially.

“And what, Commander, of the assassin himself?” the Fire Lady asked.

“Third degree burns across his face and upper chest. He wasn’t a firebender.”

That made sense. The flesh of those blessed with Agni’s gift didn’t burn as easily as those without.

“The palace healers are doing everything they can to keep him alive for questioning, but the injuries go very deep, majesty,” he shook his head. “They tell me that it is not looking probable that he will survive the next hour.”

“I see,” she sighed deeply, then drained her cup. “Please, Commander, convey my deepest thanks to your men for their services to the crown, and my compliments on Private Zhi’s heroic dedication to duty. He will be missed. Any of them who would attend his wake are free to do so.”

“It will be done,” he nodded. “Is there… anything else you would have me say to them?” Aiguo asked slowly.

Ursa was entirely conscious that the Imperial Firebenders were the one group of people that she could least afford to alienate. They had turned down the perfect chance to play kingmaker out of loyalty to their oaths. They were the only people she could genuinely count on to have her interests in mind. If they decided to turn on her right now, she had no recourse. To reprimand them for excess zeal in the act of saving her life, when one of their own had just made the ultimate sacrifice for her, would make her look foolish and ungrateful beyond belief. That could be fatal. Not thanking any more than the dead soldier’s family in person was as close to chiding them for wounding passersby in the act of neutralizing the killer as she dared get.

“No,” she shook her head. “But I would have it that your drills be revised, effective immediately.”

“How so?”

“I would like your men to spend more time focusing on their accuracy and precision with smaller fire blasts,” she told him. “In the interests of minimizing future collateral damage.”

Aiguo stiffened a little at that remark and the implications of it, and Ursa forced herself to stare up into the eye slits in his mask, refusing to allow her eyes to blink. He might be a veteran and doubtless capable of killing her on the spot if he chose, but she was not going to allow herself to be denied this. She hoped he could respect that.

“…As you will it, Lady Ursa,” he bowed just a little at the waist. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, one last thing,” the Fire Lady sat back, pouring herself another cup of tea. “When you go to carry out my instructions, please send someone to fetch Royal Archivist Li Jie for me.”

Li Jie was… normal looking. Almost strangely so. When one pictured the man who had served as master of spies for the world’s greatest empire for more than two decades, one tended to imagine a cloaked, lean, hungry figure with a cunning look in his eyes and a poisoned dagger up his sleeve. One didn’t imagine a somewhat chubby man nearing the end of middle age, of middling height, with greying black hair receding noticeably around his temples. Mild grey eyes stared out of a pudgy face that was remarkable only for its lack of anything particularly remarkable. No scars, no deformities, no particularly handsome features, but none that could be called especially ugly, beyond those inflicted by a decade or more of sitting behind a desk and enjoying sweet cream and cherry tarts a little too much.

Ursa hadn’t met Azulon’s old intelligence man on more than a handful of occasions at court, and only ever briefly, and so no strong opinion on him. She supposed that he had to have been doing something right to have kept his position as long as he had, and for that reason had summoned him to attend on her for the first time. The Imperial Firebenders might be loyal, but detailed investigations and political skullduggery were not their forte. They were above that sort of thing, or at any rate were supposed to be.

“Fire Lady,” the newcomer bowed low, a model of courtesy, “it is an honor to be called upon at last. How may I serve?”

“You may rise,” she told him from where she sat. Previously she would have offered him a chair, but that sort of thing implied rough equality of station and so simply wasn’t to be done any longer, per the rules of etiquette. “I suppose you will have heard about the incident outside the palace gates by now?”

“Yes, your majesty,” he nodded, looking somber. “A despicable attack on your person, the death of a brave soldier, and an unfortunate amount of collateral damage.”

“Quite,” she paused, sizing him up carefully. “Fire Lord Azulon made it part of your business to know everything that happened in Caldera City, did he not?”

“Everything of relevance to him, my lady.”

“Then I would have you look into your records and see what you can find of my would-be murderer. I would know who it is that just tried to end me.”

“Was.”

“What?” Ursa blinked.

“Who it was, my lady,” Li Jie clarified. “The assassin expired of his wounds around ten minutes ago, while I was on my way here.”

Ursa’s eyes widened, then narrowed a bit.

How did he know that before me?

“The healers sent an apprentice to bring you the news, but I happened to run into her and offered to carry it to you myself, since I was already coming to you,” he went on. “I hope that I did not overstep.”

“You did,” she told him sternly. “I will forgive you this oversight, but in the future do not presume to intercept news intended for me.”

“Of course, your majesty,” the spymaster said, bowing a second time.

The Fire Lady found herself doubting very much that it was a simple matter of coincidence. She didn’t begrudge the man whose role it was to be well-informed for having sources of information inside the palace, but if he could get news of important events so quickly… what else had he known about? Ozai hadn’t exactly left her a convenient list of his conspirators.

“As to your order, of course the Royal Archives will be happy to supply you with everything we can find about the man, as soon as he can be identified.”

“He hasn’t been already?”

“The burns to his face were quite extensive, and he wasn’t carrying any form of identification. With the cooperation of the Domestic Forces, though, we should be able to pin down who it was through our registry of entrants. It may take a few days to go through them all, though.”

Not just anyone could come and go in Caldera. Some rumors said that it had been different before the war, but for as long as anyone living could remember an internal passport showing a good background and the sponsorship of a ministry, nobility, or royalty had been required to gain admittance to the highly-guarded capital of the Fire Nation. Being unable to present one to a guard if ordered was grounds for detainment. The system seemed only logical to Ursa. They could hardly have any sort of criminal riffraff or foreign spies wandering the streets of the most important city in the world.

“I see,” the ruler nodded. “Then let it be done without delay. Identify him and bring me all that we can gather about him.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Li Jie bowed his head briefly. “Is there any other manner in which I can be of assistance?”

“Yes, actually,” Ursa regarded him while sipping a little on her tea. “You have more experience with these matters than I, and I value your opinion. Tell me, who do you think might be behind such a treasonous attack?”

“Quite possibly the same assassin that killed your sadly departed husband, my lady. There is an undeniable similarity in method.”

The Fire Lady blinked again. It hadn’t occurred to her before now, but that did sound like a plausible narrative, didn’t it? The assassin was both guilty of something and already dead, it surely wouldn’t be too unfair of her to use him as a scapegoat when this was all over?

“I can see your point,” she nodded, trying not to look as though she’d just had an idea. “But that doesn’t answer the larger questions. Who? Why?”

“There are a number of possible reasons, some more probable than others. I’m afraid until we have a clearer picture of who the man actually was, I am reluctant to speculate, lest I bias myself in the investigation.”

“Indulge my curiosity,” she commanded him. “Speculate for me.”

“As you will then, majesty,” Li Jei bowed, again. “The most obvious motivation is that he, and whatever backer he may or may not have had, truly was upset by Fire Lord Azulon’s last will and testament, and sought to ‘correct’ what he believed to be an error in his august majesty’s wishes. But then, if he were a professional killer and not simply some outraged partisan, the last words he said might have been a trick, a clever feint to lure your eyes from the true culprit,” he shrugged a little.

I didn’t mention what his last words were.

“Then again, he might truly have meant them.”

Ursa’s eyes were narrowed. “You think my brother-in-law really would…”

“General Iroh himself?” the spymaster smiled sardonically. “Doubtful. I’ve never known him to be anything less than a man of honor, however poorly he and Prince Ozai might have gotten along. But the former Crown Prince has many supporters, your majesty, and not all of them share his reservations. Or perhaps it could be someone personally outraged by the sight of a woman not of royal blood on the Dragon Throne, regardless of their feelings for the esteemed general. It could even be that someone with an unrelated agenda goaded a genuine supporter of the general to act. There are so many possible suspects. You must know that your ascension has not been warmly received in all quarters.”

“Has it been warmly received in any of them?” she asked.

“Shall I do my duty and give you an honest answer, or do you prefer a pleasant fiction?”

Setting the tone of our relationship so frankly?

Ursa closed her eyes briefly. “Do your duty, archivist.”

“No one that I am aware of has greeted the news with anything warmer than surprise and tepid acceptance. Some of Prince Ozai’s former allies prefer you to his brother, in the sense that they don’t particularly like General Iroh. Others are dutiful souls who will obey the old Fire Lord’s instructions simply because he was Fire Lord, or at least to have someone at the top. But no one supports you as you. At most they accept you as someone they dislike less than someone else or support your position and you only by extension. You are too much of an unknown quantity to inspire anything more so soon, Lady Ursa.”

“I see,” she sat back in her chair, stapling her fingers. More or less what she had already gathered. “Do you mind if I ask you something a little more personal?”

“By all means.”

“Do you think General Iroh ought to have succeeded Fire Lord Azulon instead of my son, then?”

“Yes,” Li Jie replied at once.

“And I’m sure that you have your reasons.”

“You are an unproven courtier with no history of leadership ruling in the name of a child, my lady. Prince Iroh is neither of those things. I would have preferred a proven and steady hand at the top to an unknown, especially during these trying times of imperial transition. It’s that simple.”

“You’re surprisingly straightforward about it.”

“Telling my liege things that they might not necessarily want to hear has been a crucial part of my role for over twenty years, majesty,” he replied with another slight shrug. “Your exalted predecessor may have disliked some of what I told him over the years, but he knew he could count on me to do what was best for the Fire Nation and the Fire Lord. That’s why I’m standing here, and not rotting in a dark cell somewhere.”

“And you hope I will follow in his footsteps?”

“Of course. Azulon was a great and wise man.”

Not so much as you believe.

“And may I count on you, then? Knowing that you would rather have seen me shuffled off quietly and my brother-in-law on the throne?”

“If you cannot disassociate your personal feelings from your work, then you have no business in my profession, my lady,” the spymaster smiled faintly. “Fire Lord Azulon’s avowed wishes and the laws of succession laid out since time immemorial clearly mean that the crown passes to Fire Lord Zuko, and his will is that you rule in his name. You are our Fire Lady by right, like it or not. Therefore, I will do all I can to support you.”

I really hope you mean that, Ursa thought.

“And why would that be?” she asked.

“The Fire Lord – or Fire Lady, as the case may be – is the beating heart of our great nation. The living symbol of our divine order. The source of all our honor. The will of Agni on earth. Duty to you is what binds us all together as the mightiest nation in the world. If people are allowed to plot against you or your son, then the illustrious civilization our forefathers worked so hard to build will crumble into decadent anarchy, and our beloved Caldera City will be reduced to nothing more than another barbarian rat viper pit if it survives at all. I for one have no wish to see that happen.”

The Fire Lady tried to gage his expression, looked for any tells one way or another. But it was no good. Li Jie’s pudgy, unremarkable face gave nothing at all away, and after a moment she gave up trying.

“I’m pleased to hear that I can rely on you,” she told him.

“I will always do my duty, my lady.”

“Then I suppose I have kept you from it for too long,” Ursa gestured with one hand. “You have your task. Please, bring me all the information you can regarding the mysterious knife-thrower.”

“It may take some time, majesty, but you will have what you seek,” Li Jie bowed one last time, then spun on his heels.

The Fire Lady watched him go with an ambivalent expression, her mind weighing the unfamiliar situation as best she could. She didn’t know if, or how far, she could trust this man, or what secrets he might be keeping from her. But then, it wasn’t as though she knew of any other potential sources of information on potential enemies and assassins… or did she? Come to think of it, there was one other person that she knew of who had placed a good deal of value on that kind of knowledge.

It was midmorning only one day afterwards, and Ursa was again in her new study, this time pouring over a set of freshly arrived reports on the damage inflicted by a recent earthquake near Daomei. A tome on the history and vital statistics of the region lay open beside her, alongside a more confidential dossier taken from Li Jie’s archives on some of the less public realities of the city and its environs. The city’s governor was asking for the crown’s aid in reconstruction and determining just how honest he was being about the state of things would go a long way in deciding just how she should respond to him.

There was a faint rap on the office door, and Ursa looked up from where she was hunched over, blinking a few times to clear some spots from her eyes.

“You may enter,” she said, a few seconds later.

The door creaked only slightly as one of her guards posted outside nudged it ajar. Another man, also in the uniform of the Imperial Firebenders, stepped inside and bowed at the waist. She nodded once, and he rose to stand at attention.

“Your majesty,” the guard began, “as you commanded, we thoroughly searched your late husband’s office and left it bare. His books and personal effects have been removed to a guest chamber to await your discretion, but…”

“But what?” Ursa frowned, eyeing the dark wooden box under his arm.

“We found this concealed in a hidden space beneath a floorboard, itself concealed beneath a decorative plinth by a curtain,” he proffered it to her. “It seemed of more immediate import.”

“I see,” she nodded. “And I appreciate your initiative in bringing it to my attention. Did anyone examine the contents of it?”

“Of course not, my lady,” the masked man shook his head. “We awaited your decision on what to do about it.”

“Again, thank you,” she gestured. “You may leave it on my desk. That will be all for now.”

“Of course, Lady Ursa,” he nodded, and carefully set it down in the spot she had indicated, bowed once at the waist, and then turned and departed.

Once he had shut the door behind him, the Fire Lady examined the little chest. It was simple and unadorned, made of reddish-brown cherry wood with brass hinges and a lock across the front. The key was nowhere to be found, but no matter. In a nation of firebenders, the lock was only there to make certain no one could discreetly steal from it anyway. She set a small flame on the end of two fingers, and carefully burned around the top of the box. It took around a minute of very precise concentration to avoid scorching anything but the wood, but in the end, she was able to cut her way through the roof of Ozai’s tiny chest. She removed a hunk of wood, blackened and smoking at the edges, and set it aside.

Inside the chest were a number of neatly folded sheets of paper, stacked carefully into a pile. Ursa picked up the top one, took a steadying breath, and unfolded it across the desk, expecting some sordid bit of bribery, blackmail, or worse. She was mildly surprised to be reading a fairly unremarkable formal, military-style report on the status of the Siege of Ba Sing Se as of almost two weeks prior from a Colonel Cheung. She had no idea who that was. Ozai had never mentioned him. But from the particulars of the letter she gathered that he had to be a soldier serving under or at least in close proximity to Prince Lu Ten, because there were a number of details relating to her late nephew’s activities on the front, how popular he was becoming with his men for his unwillingness to ask of them what he wouldn’t do himself, and his victories over the earthbenders just past the breach in the outer wall.

Setting that first document down, the Fire Lady reached into the box and removed a second one. It was another report from the same man, dated a little further back, again updating the prince on the goings-on around the front lines at Ba Sing Se, again mentioning how Lu Ten was fairing in the trenches with the rest of them and what parts he was playing in the ongoing assault. Frowning, Ursa set that aside as well and read through the third one. It was another report on the siege, and yet again there was a part of it clearly highlighting the plans and activities of honored second in line for the throne. The fourth proved to be the same thing, merely older. As did the fifth. And the sixth. And the seventh after that. The Fire Nation’s interim ruler spent several minutes pouring over every document in Ozai’s hidden box and discovered to her mounting unease that they were all like that. A series of reports straight from the front, dating back to just over a year and half ago when the siege was still picking up momentum.

There was nothing overtly untoward in any of them, of course. No suggestions of any particular course of action. Merely regular updates on the campaign as it escalated, with particular and increasing emphasis on the location and activities of Prince Lu Ten. It would be easy to claim that they were merely an expression of an uncle’s quiet affection for his only nephew, and a desire to keep an eye on him while he was far away. No doubt that would have been line taken had they by some mischance been discovered while Ozai was still alive. The Fire Lady knew her former husband better than to actually believe that he had been capable of such a thing for a very long time.

But then, why have these at all? Why hide them? Besides faking a concern that she knew perfectly well he didn’t feel, the only other use for such reports would be spying on a political rival, but there didn’t seem to be much that would be useful as blackmail in here. These letters recorded no scandalous dalliances with locals, no derelictions of duty, no treasonous remarks about his grandfather. So, what was the point of continuing to receive them over so many months? Unless…

She felt a chill run down her spine, and then shook her head.

He wouldn’t… Azulon would have been… the consequences would be…

Ursa’s mind brought her back a few days, back to the unbelievably audacious request Ozai had made of Azulon, directly after the demise of his own nephew. She thought back to the coldness in his voice, the indifference on his face, when she had confronted him over the demanded murder of his son. She remembered the eagerness that had shone in his eyes only when she had proposed the death of his father and his own ascension to the throne. Her face went pale as she processed the implications.

He would.

Chapter Text

“The omens are not favorable for such a move, your majesty,” said High Sage Sheng from where he knelt the following day. “The power of the blessed sun wanes as the year dies away. It’s nadir approaches with the coming of the winter solstice. The army falls back from the impenetrable city after almost two years of siege. The Fire Lord and two of our princes have recently passed. It is a poor time to be planning a celebration.”

“And you have just listed the very reasons why we ought to be holding one,” Minister Xi of Domestic Affairs, an older, thin, balding man with just enough white hair to scrape together into a small topknot, argued back. “Morale is shaken by blow after blow. Our people’s spirits waver. A demonstration that our glories are yet undimmed in spite of the defeat and losses, a celebration of our achievements and perhaps a personal appearance from her majesty, would go a long way towards convincing the masses that our patron spirits are still with us.”

“We would do better to spend those resources to make certain they actually are,” the sage replied.

By which you mean give them to you, Ursa thought.

The Fire Lady stared down at the two councilors, seated on her throne behind a low wall of yellow flames. Her legs were crossed, her sleeves tucked together, and her face carefully neutral as she attempted to weight the merits of the minister’s proposal.

“Are you implying that great Agni and his kin no longer bless our nation?” Xi pressed.

“I am implying that ensuring the favor of the spirits is not so simple as another check on one of your bureaucratic lists. It is a delicate process requiring cultivated ritual purity and continued proof of our ongoing devotion and virtue. Failure to carry out the correct propitiations may see a spirit grow offended with us and withhold its blessings.”

Virtue, Ursa kept the scorn from her face only by practiced skill, from a man who betrayed his lord’s will for the promise of power.

It wasn’t as though Sheng had known about Azulon’s awful order, the heartless butchery of his own grandchild that justified the old man’s death a hundred times over. No, he had helped Ozai forge the Fire Lord’s will solely for what he would gain from it. Ursa knew that perfectly well, though she did not know how much he knew about her.

“And why haven’t the propitiations been carried out already if they are so vital? For surely your order has no greater duties to attend to.”

The minister and sage glared venomously at one another. The ruler supposed Xi could count himself lucky that he wasn’t a firebender and hence ineligible for an Agni Kai, or Sheng might just have challenged him right there.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” the sage half-sneered. “Such things are far outside your area of expertise.”

It didn’t help the issue that two men were old rivals. The Fire Sages answered only to the Fire Lord himself, a privilege which the Ministry of Domestic Affairs had long resented. Xi, already suffering regular encroachment on his turf by other ministries using the war effort to build private fiefdoms outside Domestic Affairs’ control on the home islands, felt that Sheng and his order ought to fall under his office’s purview. With the Fire Sages’ power already considerably curtailed since the war’s beginning and the last Avatar’s disappearance, Sheng understandably had no desire to see that happen, and every reason to make Xi look incompetent.

Exacerbating the tension still further was the fact that Sheng had long been in Ozai’s camp, if discreetly so, while Xi had been a lifelong supporter of Iroh. The fact that Xi’s proposed celebration would be occurring shortly after her brother-in-law’s projected return could be a coincidence, or it might have deeper meaning. Perhaps it was not just the glories of the Fire Nation that he meant to demonstrate were undimmed.

“Considering the honored High Sage’s pressing concerns, Domestic Affairs would be more than able to handle the preparations in Caldera City and throughout the home islands,” Xi looked up towards the throne. “With your support of course, your majesty. If the Fire Sages feel that they cannot maintain their tradition role and suitably organize a festival to reassure the people, then my own people can. The sages need only put in a brief appearance and perform a few ceremonial blessings.”

Put in appearances where you chose to put them, I presume.

“You propose a frivolous waste of time and resources when the Fire Nation needs to focus diligently on preparing for the resumption of hostilities in the spring. Your ministry ought to be seeing to it that the latest conscription intake is handled more efficiently than last year’s and resolving the issues with falsified exemptions.”

“What the Fire Nation needs is a boost to its morale, firm proof that we will overcome these heavy losses. Not a whole season of licking wounds and brooding over past failures while the sun grows distant and the nights long. They must be reminded that these setbacks will not defeat us.”

Truthfully, the Fire Lady wasn’t sure who was right. On the one hand, it did make some sense to bolster morale on the home front (and perhaps her personal prestige) with a grand nationwide spectacle to take the public’s mind off of the recent string of bad news. On the other, common wisdom held it to be unlucky to be excessively active while Agni’s light was weakest and firebenders’ inner flames reached their lowest point. Winter was a season for rest and quiet recuperation after a year’s toil. The Sun Father himself was quiescent during those months, why shouldn’t his children be? Mightn’t morale then be better served by allowing the Fire Nation its traditional period of relative inactivity? She wasn’t certain.

Of course, Ursa also had her own personal plans for the coming weeks. A missive had already been dispatched to the Eastern Fleet Command overseeing the retreat of the army from Ba Sing Se, ordering that Colonel Cheung and a few of his direct subordinates be recalled to Caldera City aboard the first available ships. That was a matter that needed to be resolved as quickly as possible.

“Enough,” she declared, before either of the men could go on. “I have heard your proposal, Minister,” she nodded once, then looked to his left, “and your objections, High Sage. Both will be duly considered. You will be informed when a decision has been reached.” The Fire Lady did her best to project authority into her voice. “You are both dismissed.”

“Hello Mother,” Azula said later that day, glancing up from where she sat.

“Your majesty,” her current tutor, a young woman named Zhilan, bowed low from where she stood, an easel bearing a stylized rendition of some of the most common characters in their written language beside her. “This is an unexpected honor. How may I serve?”

“I happened to find myself with a little free time this afternoon, and I thought I would come and see how my daughter was doing,” Ursa said politely. “I hope that I’m not interrupting.”

“Of course not, majesty,” the woman bowed again. “Please, by all means, come in.”

“Thank you,” the Fire Lady smiled and nodded at the tutor, stepping in through the sliding door and allowing her accompanying guards to shut it behind her, taking their positions outside. The space before her was broad and bright, shudders opened to an interior courtyard to admit refreshing sunlight and the warm afternoon breeze. A single stick of incense was lit in the corner, carrying a faint, pleasant cinnamon scent throughout the room. Azula knelt not far from the doorway, her back to the sun and her face cast in shadow.

The little princess stared at her mother as she swept across the polished black tile floor but kept her face impassive the whole way. Ursa hovered over the low desk where her daughter knelt on a low cushion, two pieces of white paper and a pot of ink set before her, a very fine-tipped brush in her hands. One sheet was entirely covered in nearly flawless characters, the other was perhaps a third of the way done, a copy of the first with only a few deviations here and there.

“Azula,” the ruler smiled warmly at her daughter, putting a hand on her back. “This is beautiful.”

“Mmm…” she replied, unenthusiastically.

“I mean it. Only a few days of calligraphy lessons and you’re already making so much progress on it,” she patted her on the back. “And such a lovely poem to choose as well. The first stanza of The Dawning of the Phoenix, if I’m not mistaken?” she glanced up.

“It is one of the classics of the art, my lady,” Zhilan confirmed. “And Princess Azula’s progress is remarkable. She has some of the finest motor skills that I’ve ever seen on someone so young. She may be ready to start doing characters without an example to copy from within weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news,” the Fire Lady said, sincerely. “You should be proud. Most girls your age don’t get to that stage for months.”

“Yay,” Azula muttered, looking down.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?” Ursa gave her daughter a slightly concerned look. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling just fine, Mother,” Azula said, forcing her eyes upwards to meet her mother’s gaze and sporting a flat expression.

“Are you certain?”

“I said I’m fine,” the princess repeated slightly more emphatically.

“…Zhilan?” the ruler glanced up.

“My lady?”

“Could you please give me a few minutes alone with my daughter?”

“Of course, Lady Ursa,” the tutor bowed at the waist one more time before briskly making her way out the same way her liege had come in. Ursa waited until the guards had shut the door behind the brown-haired young lady before turning her eyes back to her child.

“Azula,” she said in a gentle tone, “you know that it’s alright for you to share your feelings with me, don’t you?” Ursa knelt down beside her. “There’s nothing shameful about confiding in your mother.”

“I’ve told you twice now, I’m fine,” she said, letting a note of irritation into her tone. “I’m doing what you told me to and doing it well, so there’s no need for you to check on me.”

“Please, give me a little more credit than that. You aren’t fine, you’re upset about something. Let me know what it is, so I can help you.”

“…You don’t really want to know anyway,” her daughter huffed. “You wouldn’t care. Go be with Zuko, he’s more to your liking anyway.”

“I do care,” the Fire Lady insisted. “I care about you very much, and I don’t like to see you unhappy. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

Azula said nothing, looking away from her mother.

“Are you unhappy with calligraphy classes?” she pressed. “Is there some other art that you would rather pursue? Has Zhilan not been a good instructor for you?”

“She’s been fine at what she’s for,” the girl said, though it didn’t sound like much of a compliment. “And no, there’s no other art.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“If I didn’t, why do you think I would be asking?”

“To make yourself feel better, and make sure your new little princess is coming along like you want her to.”

“I want you to be happy, Azula,” Ursa frowned. “Do you not believe that?”

“You want me to be a sweet little doll for you. You don’t care if that makes me happy.”

“It’s certainly true I want you to be nicer, to be more well-rounded, and to get along better with other people,” she sighed. “But why do you think that means I don’t want you to be happy? What can I do that would make you happy?”

“Let me set this junk on fire and banish these idiot instructors from the Fire Nation. They’re worthless to me.”

“Azula!” Ursa’s voice got harder. “Young lady, being upset does not give you the right to do anything you please with others!”

“Dad said it did.”

“He was wrong,” she said firmly, before allowing her expression to soften. “Azula, I want you to be happy, I truly do, but I also want you to be moral. People deserve respect even if they don’t please you all the time. Please, try to accept that. Think about how you would feel if someone wanted to banish you simply for playing your role.”

“Hmph. None of them would ever dare say anything, so who cares what they would think?”

“I do. And you should as well. They are people, and your loyal subjects at that. You should treat them with respect.”

“You respect the wishes of useless idiots but not mine,” she looked almost petulant. “Like I said, you don’t care.”

“I do! Please, what has gotten you so upset with your teachers that you want to exile all of them? Tell me, so I can help you.”

The princess sized the regent up. “If I tell you, will you stop bothering me about it?”

“I only want to know so I can help. So yes, I will.”

“…I’m upset because all of these classes are a waste of my time!” Azula visibly fumed after a short pause. “They’re not making me any stronger!”

“They’re… cultural education and art, dear,” Ursa’s brow furrowed a little. “These subjects are supposed to be relaxing and beautiful. Something to enjoy, not battle training.”

“I’m the Crown Princess, I don’t need to relax!” the little girl insisted with surprising vehemence. “I need to know more about bending, about martial arts, about politics, about war!”

“But you are learning bending and martial arts, at a normal pace for an advanced child your age. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Azula looked at her mother as if she were a complete idiot. “I don’t need to know anything about art or music or some dead layabout’s dumb old poems. I need more power!”

“Why?” Ursa asked.

She blinked. “What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, you are already destined to become one of the most powerful people in the world. Why do you think you need to be even more so?”

“Because I deserve to be powerful for being the best, and being more powerful will make me better,” she looked up at her mother as the older woman moved in closer. “That’s what Father said. Why wouldn’t I want to have more?”

“But you’re already the most powerful girl your age in the world. What do you think you need more for so badly that you have no time for anything else?” The Fire Lady took a seat beside the little princess, resting one hand gently on her back. “Tell me, my daughter, have you ever sat down and thought about exactly why you want even more power than you’re already going to have? Suppose that you had all the power in the world and feared no threats to it. What would you then do with it all?”

“Father…” the little girl frowned slightly, “never really got to that part.” The princess put two fingers on her chin, “I guess I’d build monuments to our glory and… train more… and…” She trailed off, eyes slowly wandering down towards her lap.

“Azula,” Ursa said softly, “do you know what the point of power is?”

“The… point?” her little girl looked up at her strangely.

“Yes,” she nodded. “For what reason does all of the Royal House’s power exist?”

“What do you mean what reason?”

“I mean that power for power’s sake is useless, directionless, pointless. The spirits and the Fire Nation accord our family great honor and authority, but not simply so that we may have it, and in having it seek more of it in an endless cycle. If all that power was for was acquiring more power, what would differentiate us from the mindless hunger of a locust tick?”

“We’re better than them and we deserve it.”

Ursa frowned just a little herself. “But we deserve it for what reason? Think, Azula,” she urged her daughter. “I know you’re a smart enough girl to understand this. Is grasping for more and more until you die really all that you think there is to life? Do you think it will make you happy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you should consider why you want even more power when you will already have so much, and if getting it will bring you what you’re truly seeking.”

“What I’m truly seeking?” Azula frowned back. “…What do you think the purpose of our power is supposed to be, then?”

“Nothing more, and nothing less, than this: that every single family in the Fire Nation may be safe, may be warm, may be prosperous, may be happy. If we forget that, then we have forgotten ourselves.”

“You think we exist to be glorified nannies?” The little princess wrinkled her nose.

“That’s not exactly how I would have chosen to put it,” Ursa sighed. “But there is no dishonor in using one’s station to take care of others. That’s what it’s for. Our whole civilization was built that we may all care for one another. That’s what differentiates us from the lesser nations. That’s why the war began, because caring for the world is the duty and privilege of its greatest empire.”

“Dad said that that’s just a line we feed to gullible people,” Azula said. “We started the war because we’re the best people and we deserve to control everything. It’s about us, not them.”

Of course he did. Ursa fought the urge to shake her head. How could Sozin’s own grandson fall so far from his dream?

“Control it why?” she asked aloud. “For what? Let me tell you something, Azula. Control of more land means more work for the Fire Lord, more headaches, more politics, less fun and free time. Believe me,” she smiled faintly, “I know it. If it weren’t for the world’s own good, why would we even want all the extra work? The Fire Nation was wealthy and prosperous enough to put its monarchs up in the most decadent splendor imaginable for their entire lives before the war started. Fire Lord Sozin had nothing personal to gain.”

“He had power to gain.”

“He was already the most powerful man in the world,” she pointed out. “And more power at that level simply means less time to enjoy anything. But he knew his power served a greater purpose, and that was why it was worth expanding. Power is a means to an end. Not an end itself.”

“Power… is a means to an end?”

“Understand this: power is just a tool we use to make happiness possible for ourselves and others. If you ignore the joys and pleasures of life in the name of a monomaniacal focus on acquiring ever more, you’re rejecting the end for the means, and in the end you will be miserable.”

“…But won’t power make me happy? Father said it would.”

“Did your father ever seem truly happy to you? I knew him far longer than you, I can tell you that the more he focused on grabbing for ever greater power the more bitter and unhappy he became,” she shook her head. “And you told me yourself that you don’t know what you would want to do if you had all the power,” Ursa pressed her daughter. “Think. What good will wasting your life endlessly grasping after more and more do you? Will being selfish, covetous, and consumed with power lust bring you joy? I don’t think it will.” She shook her head again. “Burning yourself out for the sake of greed will only steal your chances for joy and leave you cold and completely alone. That’s no way to live.”

“Alone?” Azula cocked her head. “Why would I ever be alone?”

Her mother sighed a little. “Dear, if people don’t think you care about them, that you only regard them as expendable tools, then they won’t want to be around you.”

“I can make them be around me,” the child frowned.

“I’m not going to allow you to do that,” Ursa pointed out, to her daughter’s briefly visible distaste. “And even if I did, do you think that people chained to you by force, who know you don’t care for them, are going to be happy to be with you? Or will they desert you at the first chance they get?”

“They won’t desert me if I’m strong enough to keep hold of them. Fear is the only reliable way to keep people around. That’s what Father always said.”

“Oh really?” the Fire Lady raised an eyebrow. “What other ways have you tried?”

“Other ways?” the way Azula said it was curiously slow, as though she were tasting the words with her tongue.

“Yes, what other ways have you tried to keep people around?” her mother repeated.

“…Being friends with the princess, now the Crown Princess, has a lot of advantages,” Azula said after a moment’s reflection. “By being faithful to me, people can raise their standing in court or become much wealthier.”

“That seems like it would keep people around your title and belongings,” Ursa pointed out. “But not around you. Is that enough for you?”

“…Yes,” said her daughter’s voice.

No, said her eyes.

“But why would I need them anyway?” Azula’s natural confidence quickly reasserted itself. “People who want rewards might betray you for a greater one than you’ll give, people that are afraid of you more than anything else never will.”

“It’s one thing for enemies and wrongdoers to fear the righteous justice from their sovereigns,” the Fire Lady shook her head. “It’s quite another for everyone around you to fear your caprice. Do you see the difference?”

“We’re royalty,” Azula argued. “We don’t have caprice. Whatever we decide is justice.”

“There are higher laws than even ours, dear,” Ursa said. “There is a way that all things ought to be, and even Fire Lords may be good or bad as they conform or do not conform to it,” she continued, thinking of one in particular. “We are all a part of the universe, a highly-placed and rightly honored part yes, but still not the whole of it. Not the absolute masters of all things. We must never forget that.”

“Why?” her daughter looked puzzled. “Why should we care about some ‘higher law’? Who’s going to enforce it?”

“Your heart will. You will find that you will come to regret it if you go against it.”

“And what even is this law supposed to be?”

“Perhaps it’s best if you think of it like this. Imagine yourself in the other person’s position and ask yourself how you would feel if you were being treated like you treat others. Would you think it was fair? Just? Or would it make you feel hurt, angry, or sad?”

“Dad said listening to emotions makes you weak.”

“If you want a practical argument,” Ursa sighed. “Then consider this. Being seen as capricious and immoral will make the people around you resent you, and eventually hate you. If people fear you but don’t secretly know that you’re in the right, they will come to despise you.”

“Who cares if they hate us?” Azula said stubbornly. “We’re better than them.”

“I think you care,” the Fire Lady said softly. “More than you let on.”

“I do not!” her daughter’s voice sounded indignant as she snapped back. “I’m not soft and weak inside! Let them hate, as long as they fear me then they’ll stay with me and they’ll obey!”

Well then, her mother sat back a little, looking sadly down at a child who ought to be much more concerned with friends and fun than such topics. You leave me little option.

There was one trump card that she had hoped not to have to play. Ursa hated to do what she was about to do to such a young girl, but this poisonous idea Ozai had planted in her daughter absolutely had to be torn up by its roots before it could bear its full horrid fruit. If that required something harsher than she would have liked, so be it.

“Your father thought the same way,” the Fire Lady told her daughter in a solemn tone. “Look to what became of him.”           

It hurt her, to watch her little girl flinch like that. She did not enjoy seeing Azula’s face losing some of its color, nor the way she quickly tried to conceal her feelings from her own mother. A child ought always to feel free to confide their troubles in a parent.

“I know it’s not easy to think about,” the ruler went on, “But please, for your own sake, consider what I’m saying. You say you don’t care how other people feel about you.”

And I think that’s a lie you’ve been taught to repeat.

“But you should. To be loved by those around you is a gift beyond price. If you keep going this way, then you will wind up cold, lonely, friendless, and despised by all around you. Do you want to end up like that?”

It was a hard lesson, and not one she relished teaching to a nine-year-old girl, who ought to be far too young to be thinking of these things. But Ozai had stolen her daughter’s chance for a blissful, carefree childhood long ago. Now all she could do was hope to expunge his lies before they consumed her utterly, as they had him. Sometimes, a strong medicine was the only way.

“You’re a very smart girl, Azula” Ursa told her daughter gently, patting her downcast offspring on the back. “And you’ve seen where such a sorrowful path ends. Please, I beg you, ask yourself, is that where you want your life to go?”

“I-I…” her little girl’s voice wavered as she looked up, and the Fire Lady’s heart could take it no more.

Ursa’s arms wrapped around her daughter, pulling her tightly into a veritable blanket of crimson and black silks. She cradled Azula’s head against her chest, running the fingers of one hand gently through the little girl’s soft, lustrous black hair. This close, she could feel the rapid pounding of her child’s heart even through her robes, could detect the faintest hint of tremors running down her small body. Her daughter, for once, was quiet. It would be quite some time before the Fire Lady would consent to release her.

When Ursa next sought out her son, the young Fire Lord was out on one of the palace’s multitude of training courtyards. Barefoot, bedecked in baggy pants and a thin crimson vest that left his arms bare, the boy was drilling under Master Akihiro, a middle-aged, stern-faced war veteran with a receding black hairline and three sculpted metallic fingers affixed to his left hand. Zuko’s head shot in her direction the moment the heavy doors swung open, and he had but an instant for a half-smile to form before his teacher snapped at him to pay attention, firmly reminding him that against an assassin or even in ritual combat a single moment’s distraction could spell disaster. The Fire Lady disliked the harsh tone that he took with her son, but she had to acknowledge that the man doubtless spoke from experience. She contented herself with sitting down to observe on one of the many stone benches littering the courtyard.

Today’s lesson, from what an amateur like Ursa could tell, was all about the transition from one move to another in the basic sets. Energy conservation, maintenance of flame as it soared through the air, the smooth flow of one strike into another, and the combination of all of these into the signature relentless offensive that made firebending such a force to be reckoned with, these were the drills Akihiro was putting Zuko through here. Not much of what was being said or done was familiar to Ursa – ordinary noblewomen not being expected to fight and having always preferred the utilitarian and aesthetic aspects of firebending, she had never learned to use it in combat.

Still, the Fire Lady sat back and watched as her beloved boy went through the sequences again and again. She was pleased to note that while the instructor she’d selected was a hard man, he wasn’t a cruel one, and when he pointed out mistakes there were never any accompanying insults, merely quick explanations of what to do followed by demands to try again. She was even more pleased to see that Zuko seemed to be getting the hang of it after a while and made sure to offer her son a proud smile whenever his eyes wandered in her direction. Ozai would probably have dismissed the child’s efforts simply because Azula was performing several advanced katas while her older brother was still on the basics, but Ursa knew that he was well ahead of the average child his age.

Eventually, of course, the session came to an end. Student bowed to teacher, and then subject to his Fire Lord. Zuko went eagerly to his mother almost the moment the training was over, and the Fire Lady rose to meet him.

“That was a wonderful display,” she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re getting better, I can tell.”

“Not as good as Azula,” he muttered, eliciting a frown from Ursa.

“Not everything between you two needs to be a competition,” she said.

“She treats it like it is. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Your sister is young, and your father…” the regent sighed while they walked together, guards opening the chamber doors for them. “Your father put a lot of wrong ideas in her head. She’ll come around; I know she will. And when she does, I want you to be supportive of her.”

“Support Azula?! Are you crazy?” Zuko looked incredulous. “She doesn’t need my help and she doesn’t want it, and if she ever acts like she does it’ll just be another mean trick like she pulled at the fountain.”

“Of course, she needs you. She just doesn’t realize it yet. Everyone needs a loving family, whether they know it or not. We’re a family, almost all the family that we have left now. You are brother and sister, and whatever has passed between you doesn’t change that. I hope you and she will realize that soon,” Ursa shook her head slightly. “Besides, you’re destined to rule our nation and the whole world someday. That’s a big job, even for a boy as talented as you,” she smiled down at Zuko, who beamed appreciatively. “You’ll need to learn to work together with your sister if you want to be the best Fire Lord you can be. You do want that, don’t you?”

“She’ll never go for that,” he insisted. “Azula always lies. Anything she does or says will just be another trick to hurt someone. Probably me.”

“I won’t let her,” the Fire Lady reassured him. “As I said, your father put these bad ideas in her head by letting her get away with being cruel and by not teaching her to be better. But that’s over now, I promise. If she refuses to show respect to others, she won’t go unpunished anymore.” She patted his shoulder. “But I think she will learn to change faster than you think.”

“You’re wrong,” he shook his head.

“We’ll see,” his mother sighed again, the two of them walking through the palace’s richly appointed hallways towards the Royal Spa for the Fire Lord’s post-training freshening up. Imperial Firebenders hovered a respectful distance ahead of and behind them. “Just please promise me that you’ll do your best to be kind to her. And if she does start to come around, please don’t turn her away.”

“That’s… not an easy promise to make.”

“I know,” Ursa said softly, squeezing her son’s shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. But can you promise to at least try?”

Her sweet boy looked away, saying nothing, and the Fire Lady felt a fresh flash of disgust for the man who, through his selfishness and cruelty, had driven her two children apart. That a boy to whom kindness came so naturally would be so hesitant to assist his own little sister spoke volumes to how badly her baby girl had been warped by Ozai’s attentions.

I should have poisoned him a long time ago, she realized with a sudden start, and felt a little guilty. Whether for that observation, or for failing to murder her monstrous husband years before, she did not know.

“Please?” Ursa said in a quiet, imploring tone. “Will you do it for me?”

“Mmmm…” Zuko groaned, looked half-pleadingly up at his mother, then gave a defeated sigh. “…I guess I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask,” she patted his back affectionately. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

It took Li Jie’s agents ten days to sift through the records of Caldera City’s entrants, match them with the city’s current occupants, and narrow down the suspects until one could be picked out and confirmed by his unoccupied quarters and the abandoned identification found there. Or, at any rate, he said it took that long. But Azulon’s old spymaster was as good as his word in the end, presenting the Fire Lady Dowager with a detailed report of the investigation’s progression and a dossier on her mysterious attacker.

Her would-be assassin’s name was Lee Xunsu, the dossier said. A decorated soldier who had served beneath General Iroh in the Earth Kingdom for seven years, earning the rank of Captain prior to retiring following a leg injury during the initial probing campaigns near Ba Sing Se, two and a half years ago now. As a non-firebender fighting deep in enemy territory, he had pursued the blademaster’s art instead, with four confirmed earthbender kills between his sword and the throwing knives he had favored. Following his honorable discharge from the military, he had returned to the Fire Nation to take up work as a scribe, one who because of his spotless past could be trusted with confidential information and had no difficulty securing admittance to Caldera.

Looking over his career since his return home, she saw he had spent three months serving in the Ministry of Domestic Affairs before accepting private employment in House Meili, a wealthy and respected mercantile dynasty led by Lady Kai’an and owner of one of the largest private trading fleets in the empire. But he had suddenly been dismissed from his position auditing warehouses and creating shipping manifests only ten days before the fateful events that saw her nephew, father-in-law, and husband dead. Since then, he’d had no public work or apparent prospects up until the day he tried to kill her and died.

Why would such a man want her dead, and so badly that he hadn’t even tried to slip away from her guards? He had been a soldier under her brother-in-law, though the general had never mentioned him in his letters and there was no reason to think they had been close or even knew one another personally at all. Still, serving beneath the Dragon of the West for so many years was bound to leave a lasting impression – perhaps, given his invective, he really was simply a lone man outraged that the man he had followed into battle had been suddenly disinherited and replaced by a child king and his untested mother.

Still, there was the question of why he had suddenly lost his old post and apparently not bothered to seek a new one in the last two weeks of his life. A very strange thing to do – an army officer’s pension was hardly enough to keep a man put up in Caldera City for long. Had he found other, off the record employment, where his old skills could be put to better use? And if so, was he then a pawn of someone else who sought her demise, or even a broader conspiracy? Ursa wished again that her guards had applied a little less force in subduing him.

After finishing the spymaster’s dossier, the Fire Lady stapled her fingers on her desk, considering the situation for a moment. She could leave well enough alone, assume that Lee Xunsu had been acting on his own, and move on with her life. But if she did that, then she took a chance that someone else out there still wanted her dead enough to do something and might find a better, or luckier, assassin to send after her. Recent history demonstrated that even the highest status in the Fire Nation didn’t make one invincible. Ursa had no desire to die so soon – especially not with her children still so vulnerable.

After a short while’s thought, the regent sat back in her chair and called for a scribe. Firstly, she would have Minister Xi retrieve the dead man’s records from while he worked for Domestic Affairs – not likely to contain anything incriminating, but one never knew. Then it would be time to reach out to Li Jie again for another dossier, this time one he doubtless already possessed. And finally, a summons would need to be sent.

From the moment Lady Kai’an stepped through the curtains into the throne room, Ursa found herself disliking the other woman.

The two of them had met a few times before, of course, at court or in the frequent parties and galas held by the capital’s nobility, but never for all that long and she’d never made too much of an impression on the Fire Lady beyond another polite, pretty face. That had changed when she’d read over Li Jie’s report on the mistress of House Meili, and a number of unsettling facts had come to light. She was older than she appeared – something Ursa herself was no stranger to, being in her late thirties and being able to pass for a decade younger most of the time. The dynastic scion arriving before her was a few months from her thirty-second year despite appearing to be in her twenties. She was also unwed, unengaged, and childless.

A noble lady so well-bred, well-mannered, and wealthy as Lady Kai’an would not lack for eligible suitors, nor had she tearfully sent a husband or son off to the front as had so many of her contemporaries. She lacked heirs at such a late age because she wanted to, or at the least because she could not be bothered to produce any or even adopt any of the nation’s numerous war orphans – something almost unheard of in their land.

The citizens of the Fire Nation were a passionate people in all things and, like the element that was their birthright, had long needed little encouragement to spread themselves to the limit of their environment. As the mother of only two children, Ursa was in a distinct minority amongst her people. Three or more offspring were far more common, especially among those not born to the squabbling over vast inherited estates that came with a position among the nobility. She herself was an only child solely because her father had been an older widower on his second marriage by the time she was born.

By tradition, for a healthy adult to fail to produce heirs, save in cases of dire bodily malady or an overwhelming duty that precluded it, amounted to little less than spitting upon the honor of one’s ancestors. To deem one’s own forebearers unworthy of descendants by selfishly ending a bloodline was shameful enough. But with advent of the war the disgracefulness of the act of refusing to pass on the fire in one’s blood had only been compounded. For not only was the act of voluntary childlessness a slight upon one’s own house, but now that the Fire Nation had such constant need for soldiers to fight and workers to build and colonists to settle conquered lands, it amounted to little less than a quiet betrayal of the homeland itself in her time of need.

Ursa, as a woman to whom her children meant everything and who unreservedly felt that the role of mother was the highest calling to which any woman could aspire, felt the wrongness of the act especially keenly. The sheer disrespect of it was enough to put her on edge from the moment she saw the other lady stepping through the curtains. After all, if a woman held neither the spirits of her own ancestors nor the fire in her veins nor duty to the nation’s great endeavor itself sacred, what could she be counted on to reverence?

But there was one even more disturbing bit of information from the dossier she’d been presented. Lady Kai’an apparently had no less then four older brothers, three with settled families of their own and one serving in the navy, but when her mother and father had tragically perished during turbulence at sea, to the surprise of all it had been their youngest child and only daughter that had been designated the sole heir in their testament. Her unoccupied siblings had subsequently been quietly shuffled off to remote holdings of House Meili in the colonies or outer islands.

That was unusual enough, but what really made the Fire Lady uncomfortable was one fact the report failed to mention. She recalled from several years before that she and Ozai had first met the good lady at a garden party only a month or so before this dossier dated the sudden death of the noblewoman’s parents, and that he had spent even more time than usual away from their villa in the days that followed. It wasn’t exactly conclusive proof but knowing as she did how far her late husband had been willing to go…

The other noblewoman, clad in her finest robes of pink and white, shiny black hair bound up into an elaborate bun pinned in place with twin hair sticks of mother-of-pearl and gold, topped with a decorative colonial-style platinum and pearl comb sporting three small white lilies made of silk, carried herself forward in a dignified yet deferential pose, gaze low. She abased herself before the Dragon Throne, pressing her forehead into the immaculately polished wooden floor. She held the bow in silence for several seconds, as custom demanded, the throne room quiet save for the crackling of the wall of flames.

“Hail Fire Lady Ursa,” Lady Kai’an intoned solemnly, still pressed low to the ground. “You summoned me, your majesty, and I am here. What is your will?”

For all the extra work that came with this exalted role, for all the freedom and time with her children she had sacrificed upon taking it up, for all the dangers it entailed, Ursa had to admit to herself that there was at least one thing to be said for it: it was nice to have genuine power for once instead of living her life under someone else’s thumb.

“You may rise,” she told the other woman in a gracious tone.

The head of House Meili did as she was bidden – though only rising to her knees, of course. To stand in the presence of the Fire Lord was unthinkable, and the same etiquette could be reasonably applied to a Fire Lady Dowager.

“It has ever been my family’s honor to be at the service of the Dragon Throne,” Kai’an said in her high-pitched voice, her ash-grey eyes finally rising to meet Ursa’s amber ones.  

“And to reward our subjects’ loyalty is the honor of the Dragon Throne,” Ursa responded.

The lady bowed her head in a flawless expression of grateful acknowledgement, completing the opening formalities.

“How may I serve?” she asked when she looked back up again.

“You have heard, doubtless, of the attempt made on my life?” Ursa said, doubting that there existed a single soul on the island, much less in the royal city itself, who hadn’t.

“I have indeed, majesty,” she nodded, a carefully placed note of anger rising in her voice. “A vicious act of treason perpetrated by a despicable criminal. May the traitor and any who follow him be cast into the Taoyan Yiwang to wander lightless for ten thousand years.”

An eloquent but somewhat archaic curse, though one well-suited for professing a patriotic citizen’s loyalty to the will of Agni on earth.

“What you may not have heard was that the attack was perpetrated by a man known to have been recently associated with you,” Ursa let an edge of sternness creep into her voice. “A man by the name of Lee Xunsu.”

“Majesty?” the good lady sounded appropriately appalled. “You surely cannot mean to suggest that I-”

“I suggest nothing,” the Fire Lady cut her off authoritatively, causing her to bow her head again. “I merely tell you things as they are.”

“Yes, majesty.”

“And that is what I wish you to do for me,” she continued. “You will tell me all that you know of this man and your history with him and leave nothing out.”

“I was not aware of the perpetrator’s identity and so did not think to bring any of my records with me, Fire Lady,” Kai’an told her, sounding both wary and apologetic. “I can only give you what I am able to recite from memory.”

“That will be sufficient for the moment.”

Because your estate is being searched by the Royal Procession while you’re here, she added mentally. And your other holdings by the Domestic Forces. Copies of any records you have will be in our hands shortly.

“By your command,” she said. “I have many men and women in my employ, and so I do not always remember everything about each one of them. But from what I do recall, I became aware of Xunsu perhaps two years previous, through a mutual contact in the Ministry of Domestic Affairs. I was told that he had a talent for numbers, paperwork, and organization, and in addition that he had served honorably in the war. If I remember rightly, after working with him three times I offered him a position overseeing the contents of several of my family’s warehouses along the harbor, ensuring the correct arrival and departure of cargo according to the shipping manifests and notifying me of any discrepancies found.”

“He so readily accepted leaving public service?”

“I am given to understand that his low posting at the ministry was not to his liking. I offered him a position with greater wages, more freedom, and more authority,” she shrugged a little. “I was told that his talents were worth the price.”

“And were they?”

“Yes, majesty. From what I recall of his time serving my house, he was a diligent and competent employee, who performed his tasks quickly and well, rarely giving me much cause to do more than periodic cursory inspections of his work. He seemed trustworthy.”

“He was not.”

“My apologies that I did not spot it,” she bowed her head yet again. “Please, forgive my negligence, my lady. I will endeavor not to repeat it.”

“You are forgiven,” Ursa assured her. “What else can you tell me of his time with you?”

“From memory? Little enough, your majesty. There are hundreds of servants and staff in the employ of House Meili. Unless one does something spectacularly well or spectacularly poorly, I have only scant fragments of attention to spare for any individual amongst them. From what I do recall, he did what I paid him to do well enough and never gave cause for complaint. He kept his part of our trading empire running smoothly, and I left him to it. We had few direct interactions in our years together. He always seemed straightforward and focused, if sometimes lacking all the proper etiquette befitting a resident of our illustrious capital.”

“If the man was as able and quiet as you say, what was it that caused you to dismiss him from your service so recently?”

“I am given to understand that Xunsu greatly admired former Crown Prince Iroh, but unfortunately his respect did not extend to the late Prince Ozai,” she explained. “One of my household overheard him making disparaging remarks about his highness to some of my servants over tea and brought it to my attention. And I was ever your honored husband’s loyal servant.”

That I believe.

“So, I dismissed the insolent cur and the two fools who failed to defend their prince’s honor without delay and told them that they were very fortunate that their employment was all such disrespectful talk would cost them on this occasion.”

That I can also believe, the Fire Lady thought, wincing slightly at the thought of how the bitter and proud Ozai might have reacted to an open insult from a man so far beneath his status. Of course, that raises the question of what he was doing having tea with your servants in your household if you had so few interactions with him.

“What was it that the traitor was doing in your home to begin with?” she asked outright. “You indicated that you rarely spoke.”

“He was waiting to bring me a report on the state of several trading ships known to be running considerably behind schedule, and their projected impact on the areas under his charge.”

The ruler nodded. “Continue.”

“Since the day I dismissed him, I have had no knowledge of his whereabouts or activities, my lady. I swear it on my life and my honor,” she bowed her head. “I implore you to believe me, if I had known for a moment of his treasonous designs, I would have come rushing to expose them to you without delay.”

The Fire Nation’s ruler sat back on her throne for a few moments, pondering the matter in silence. This exercise was mostly an effort to keep her occupied while her estates were searched, but also an opportunity to see if the other lady would personally give anything away by her story and demeanor. As expected, she had not. Few properly trained court ladies would, of course, but there was always the chance of nerves causing them to slip.

While the Fire Lord’s – and thus, her – power might theoretically be absolute, in practice simply seizing the head of such an ancient and well-established noble house without any evidence of wrongdoing tended to have unpleasant consequences. That went double for a mere regent still so new to the crown. And even more importantly, Ursa didn’t actually know if the lady had had anything to do with what had happened or was simply a victim of circumstance. Azulon and Ozai might not have been averse to punishing innocents for the crimes of others, but the new Fire Lady was a considerably less callous creature.

“Very well. That will be all, for the moment,” Ursa told Kai’an at last. “You are dismissed from my presence, though you will remain in the palace under the protection of the Imperial Firebenders until leave is given for you to return to your home. It should not be more than a few hours.”

If her guest was surprised, intimidated, or offended, she didn’t show it. “As you will it, your majesty,” Lady Kai’an bowed down one last time.

Chapter Text

“Nothing?” Ursa asked.

“Nothing,” Captain Feng of the Imperial Firebenders confirmed with a nod of his masked head.

“I see,” she sighed, then looked at the next officer. “I take it that you found nothing as well?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady,” Captain Lian of the Domestic Forces offered apologetically, a slight grimace on her unmasked face. “A few discrepancies on cargo manifests that bare further inquiry, but nothing that ties Lady Kai’an to any sort of plot against your life.”

“I suppose the interrogators we sent along to question her household attendants didn’t turn up anything either?”

Feng shook his head.

“So be it,” the Fire Lady sat back in her chair. “I trust you at least brought back copies of every record you could find?”

“Of course, majesty.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I see,” she gestured. “You’ve done as asked, and I thank you for your service. You may go.”

The man and woman bowed respectfully at the waist, before turning and heading for the exit with the disciplined steps characteristic of parade ground formations. The Fire Lady watched them walk past the towering shelves stacked with books and scrolls with an impassive expression on her face.

“I’ll want someone to take a more careful look over her records,” she told one of the office’s other occupants while the two soldiers filed out. “And have someone go over the transcripts our interrogators made of their time with her servants as well. Just in case there are any discrepancies to be found.”

“If I may be so bold, my lady, you do not seem to hold out much hope for either task to succeed,” Li Jie said in a soft tone.     

“I do not,” Ursa admitted as her bodyguards closed the office door behind the departing officers. “I seriously doubt anyone who sought the life of a regent would be quite so foolish as to leave a paper trail.”

“I’m afraid that that’s lamentably true, majesty.”

“But it had to be tried anyway.”

“As a demonstration of your authority over the nobility.”

“And to be sure that no potential information was left buried,” she added, thinking back to what had been found in Ozai’s office. “But it doesn’t look we’re going to find anything looking around there.”

“Yet you still feel that Lady Kai’an is a threat?” he said in a way that didn’t entirely sound like a question.

“She seems the sort of woman who would scheme against me in a heartbeat, were it somehow beneficial for her to do so. I don’t see exactly how it would be,” Ursa admitted, stapling her fingers together. “But the very man who tried to assassinate me being in her employ for so long seems too much of a coincidence to simply ignore.”

Especially if she truly served Ozai, and he was loyal to Iroh, she added mentally.

“Your majesty, I’m sure that you are aware of this, but as the reigning monarch’s regent it does lie within your power to impose any punishment that you choose on Lady Kai’an, for any reason,” Li Jie reminded her in a cordial tone. “If you deem her sufficiently suspicious in spite of what was found she can be placed onto a boat heading to the colonies by tonight,” he shrugged. “Or thrown off of one, if you will it.”

“You would have me condemn such a highly-placed woman to exile based on mere suspicion?”

“Fire Lord Azulon would say that it is important to act decisively.”

Fire Lord Azulon wanted to murder an innocent child for his father’s disrespect, Ursa thought. I will not be like him.

“And announce to every noble house in the Fire Nation that none of them are safe? That I mean to rule them as a tyrant who may condemn any of them at any time for no provable offense, based on mere feeling?” she said aloud. “If I desire half the nobility in the nation clamoring to assassinate me with the other half cheering them on, to be a veritable prisoner in the palace for the rest of my life, there are easier ways.”

“Well said, my lady,” the chubby spymaster smiled faintly at her. “Very astute.”

“And if you think that, why would you say such things in the first place?”

“To give you a safe opportunity to reject them, of course,” he said. “Better that you learn to ignore bad advice from someone who’s willing to explain why it’s bad than take it from someone who genuinely believes it.”

“And you would have done so, had I seemed likely to take such a course of action?”

“Of course,” the man sounded mildly offended. “I told you before, I do what I do for the good of the throne and the Fire Nation. If that means educating the ruler on political realities, then so be it. Everyone must learn somehow. I’m pleased that you already knew.”

The Fire Lady didn’t quite narrow her eyes, but it was a near thing. The days of entire armies of clan retainers were gone, the advent of centralization having long since swept such archaic vestiges of the pre-unification days aside. But all the same many of the old houses that had survived the transition were still quite important economically or politically, many holding significant postings in government or officer’s commissions. If she did alienate the whole of the nobility, she would have to purge and replace significant portions of the ministries and military command structure to ensure their support… but importantly, perhaps, with personal forays beyond the palace rendered so much more dangerous she’d be all the more reliant on a certain spy network to provide her with information and keep her ahead of the inevitable assassins’ blades. And wouldn’t that be convenient.

“Yes, well…” she continued after a short pause. “Refrain from giving me advice that you hope I will ignore in the future. I have enough matters to attend to without concerning myself with playing mind games with loyal subjects, and I don’t require such an education. I’ve been part of the court for over a decade if you recall.”

“My apologies, Lady Ursa,” he bowed his head. “I had no intention of offending you. I will refrain from repeating the offense. Though I must confess to having one other motive.”

“And what would that be?”

“To give you an opportunity to demonstrate your political savvy on your own, of course.”

“Why?”

“You’ve asked me to be honest in the past, even if the truth is unpleasant. Does that wish still hold true?”

“Naturally,” she nodded once.

“In hopes of proving to some of my associates that we aren’t making a mistake by supporting your regency.”

“There have been voices of doubt amongst your subordinates?”

“There are voices of doubt everywhere, my lady. Some say that you lack true royal blood, that you are merely a weak courtier in over your head, that you are a puppet of some darker force, that you are a fool soon to be gone, that you are… well, a usurper, majesty.”

“Rumormongering is inevitable,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Half the court has nothing better to do than chatter like tittering iguana parrots with every fresh bit of news. I mean to prove them all wrong soon enough. Those who doubt will see soon enough that I am more than they think me to be, and that I am no one’s puppet.”

The spymaster smiled again. “I couldn’t be happier to hear that, your majesty. The Fire Nation has always needed a strong Fire Lord.”

“Your faith in me is appreciated,” she replied.

“With that being said, if you feel she is a genuine danger and you are interested in getting rid of the good lady in a practical fashion, there is the option of simply claiming to have found evidence of her treason. There are numerous ways to concoct a convincing narrative, and if the state says it is true who will doubt?” the man offered. “Dispose of her cleanly, then bring one of her more pliable brothers back from his internal exile to head House Meili. She’s made it easier on you by having no heirs to be outraged. Not only do you avoid looking the tyrant, but you also appear quite merciful for sparing the house’s existence and position.”

For a moment, Ursa just stared.

“…At the expense of truth,” she eventually managed to say. “I condemn someone who might be innocent and lock myself into a version of events that might rule out the truly guilty party.”

“Conspiracies do happen. Not often, thankfully, but historically periods of uncertainty and turmoil are the ripest with them. Imperial transition has brought out groups of would-be usurpers more than once. Not the most difficult story to tell if new information should come to light.”

“Yes, well,” she replied more authoritatively. “I believe I will refrain from inventing false narratives to purge citizens of the Fire Nation on the grounds of mere suspicion and personal dislike. You will not suggest such dishonorable things again, is that clear?”

“Perfectly so, my lady.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled, I want your men to continue investigating this assassination attempt in addition to your usual duties. I’m not yet convinced this was the work of one outraged partisan.”

“Even with an apparent lack of leads?”

“Even so,” she nodded. “I’m sure Lee Xunsu was doing something in between his dismissal and his death. Interrogate his neighbors, any friends he might have had. Check with any taverns or places of business he might have frequented. Try and retrace his footsteps during his final days as best you can, perhaps it will turn up something of note. Oh, and be sure to have Lady Kai’an’s home watched, just to be safe. Alert me should she send any of her servants on any unusual outings or receive abnormal guests.”

“It will be done, then.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Now, if you please, leave me,” she kept her voice perfectly civil. “Do not return until you can bring me new information, or I call for you.”  

“As you will it, Lady Ursa.”

As Li Jie turned and left to continue the investigation, she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing much of him for a while.

“Azula!” Ty Lee exclaimed, her cheery voice echoing easily throughout the entrance hall, and rushed forward to hug the princess. “It’s so good to see you again!” her arms wrapped around Azula’s shoulders. “We’ve missed you so much! How have you been?”

“Fine,” Azula muttered in a low voice, halfheartedly returning the embrace. “I’m doing fine.”

The situation had changed since the last time she’d seen these two. They were in the palace and not their family villa, and the guards weren’t just posted outside but ever-present. Two stood a mere five paces behind the princess, with more not much further away. Mother was in charge of the guards now. The soldiers would undoubtedly carry any words she said back to the Fire Lady. So, what would Mother want her to do here?

“How… How have you been?” she asked after a moment’s reflection.

“Mom and Dad have been really worried,” Ty Lee admitted. “I haven’t been back to school in weeks. They don’t want any of us hearing it but Ty Lin says she heard them thinking about us leaving Caldera for a while, until things have settled down a bit.”

“It’s been a nightmare,” Mai grimaced unpleasantly. “Dad was freaking out for days afterwards, and Mom wouldn’t let me out of her sight for a week. I even had to sleep in their bedroom.”

Part of Azula wished that she slept in her mother’s room. Ursa’s arms were warm, surprisingly strong, and comforting in an almost primordial way. Maybe if she were there, the nightmares would stop. Then the sound of the vast double doors slamming shut snapped her back to reality, reminded her what Father had said about showing weakness or fear.

It was the first time that her friends had come to see her since her life had been sent spiraling off course – undoubtedly, the first time their parents had let them come. Dad had been assassinated not long ago, and though Mom never spoke of it and Zuzu was probably still oblivious Azula listened in on enough private conversations to keep abreast of current events. An attempt had been made to kill her mother as well, very nearly succeeded, and ended with the killer’s own death. Possibly it was carried out by the very same man who had killed Prince Ozai. Mai and Ty Lee’s parents keeping their little girls far from the palace for a time was only rational, and the little princess resented that fact. The other two noble girls were hers, and the absence of her familiar accompaniment was yet another privation she had had to endure.

“Tell your parents they should stay,” Azula tightened her hold on Ty Lee, whispering into her ear. “Tell them that the Fire Lady and Crown Princess will be very disappointed with them if they leave now.”

“Ummm…” the chipper girl looked a little less so. “Okay.”

Having friends over again in her spare time was a welcome return to form after so many disturbing disruptions in her life. Taking them on a brief tour through the vast corridors of Royal Palace, servants and guards and officials bustling this way and that, watching the awe form in their eyes (alright, mostly in Ty Lee’s eyes) at the sheer scale of it all was briefly enjoyable, as was showing them her vastly larger new room with its commanding view of Caldera. But eventually she exhausted the immediate ways of showing off her improved status, and had to go back to more conventional methods of entertaining herself.

It… wasn’t as much fun anymore. Now there was a constant accompaniment of Imperial Firebenders surrounding her, and worse still they reported to Mother. Oh, they weren’t always directly in her face, but they were never far away, and they were always watching. They were much better trained in picking up on the most minute signs of a stealthy intruder than the old guards around their villa had been. And even if she did manage to slip away from them – she had accomplished it once – the whole palace had gone into an uproar until she was hunted down and then Mother had taken away her firebending training entirely for the next few days. Being made to sit in an empty room surrounded by guards for those hours “thinking about what she had done wrong” had proven even less enjoyable than just letting them follow her.

Being under such constant vigilance meant that there would be no sneaking away to wreak petty mischief on the servants, that there was no way she was getting anywhere near the kitchens for an extra helping of sweets unobserved. Even Zuko was away on some Fire Lord lesson or another. Not that her brother made a good target for bullying any longer, between Mother and his own guards he was alone even less than she was. All that meant that her options for entertainment were considerably more limited than before.

Not being able to push people around for pleasure meant that Azula was forced to stick to things like pretend battles, acrobatics, and even Mahjong to pass the time. Practice battles would ordinarily have been right up her alley, but in her current state they only reminded her of the training she was being denied and so she called them off after beating Mai and Ty Lee in the third one in a row. Showing off her flexibility wasn’t nearly as much fun when Ty Lee (again) easily showed her up at it, and this time she couldn’t even push her to the ground to make herself feel better. Mahjong, funnily enough, was the clear winner for the day – between Azula’s innate luck and her hawk-eyed vigilance, the princess won every round of the tile game the three little girls played that afternoon. It only helped a little.

A more light-hearted girl might have seen the bitter humor in her situation. For years, the princess had dreamed of the day when she could bring her entourage to the palace instead of the villa, where Grandfather was gone and a worthier Fire Lord in charge. Now the day had finally come when she could, a day where she was even the official Crown Princess, and she was having less fun than ever. But Azula only found cruel irony amusing when it happened to others.

Soon enough, far too soon in Azula’s opinion, the brief span of time that Mai and Ty Lee had to spend with her was exhausted. Just a few measly hours of company after weeks apart, and the two of them had to depart while the autumn sun was just beginning to dip over the horizon. Not that the princess needed them or anything or would ever let herself look affected when the guards led the noble girls back out the palace gates but still… without Father, without them, with her lessons done for the day, Azula was left alone with her thoughts. And alone was the last thing that she wanted to be right then.

The young princess sat on the crimson silk cushions of a broad, black lacquered sofa by the opened shudders of her new room, staring out over the protective wall surrounding the palace and scenic capital beyond. Lanterns were already beginning to be lit as the sun slowly sank beyond the volcano’s rim, visible from this height as twinkling little yellow lights that glittered beautifully as they reflected off of the city’s small, artificial lakes. Men and women in richly appointed robes or armor could be seen walking the streets, sitting outside at restaurants and wine houses, or even rowing gently across serene water’s surface. The tropical air was warm and pleasant even at this time of year, and a refreshing breeze carried whiffs of aromatic smoke and hints of sea salt to her nose.

Looking out over it all, Azula felt something a little strange inside, but she had no idea what to make of it. It was not long before she put the matter from her thoughts. Unfortunately for the little girl, not every quandary was so easily dismissed, and it hardly took any time at all for uncomfortable thoughts to crawl back from the periphery of her awareness.

What would she do with supreme power if she securely possessed it? Now that Mother had planted it there, the question simply refused not leave her mind. Hour after hour, day after day it kept popping up and Azula was faced with the fact that she’d never really thought deeply about it before. Focusing on the acquisition of power at the expense of all else had just seemed like the rational path to pursue. The only path, even. Father had praised her for it, she gratified her every desire with it, and besides the impotent whining of Mother and her unjustly favored son there was no one to protest it.

Now there would be no more praise from Father, ever. Now she had disturbingly good evidence that the gratification she got from shamelessly lording her superiority over others and forcing them to dance to her tune would end with her getting knifed in the back. And most of all, now Mother’s whining was anything but impotent. With the force of the entire Fire Nation behind her, Ursa could do exactly as she liked with her daughter and there was no one to stop her. So, a part of the princess’ mind asked, what reason was there to continue to pursue more power at all costs? What would she gain? How would she avoid sharing Ozai’s fate if she did? And what would she even do if she managed to acquire the Dragon Throne sometime in the distant future?

For all her intellect and ability, Azula was still just a child. She’d not yet made any grand plans for the future when she inevitably inherited from Ozai. To the extent that she’d considered the aftermath of such a scenario at all, which she really hadn’t, she’d just assumed some purpose for it all would become clearer further down the line, that Father would teach her what to do then as he always had before. Now, faced with the fact that that wouldn’t be happening, the princess was left to spin her wheels aimlessly, trying to make sense of it all on her own.

And of Mother’s other point? That was proving to be equally as vexing. Dad had always said that fear would keep people in line, keep them close and doing exactly what she wanted, and for as long as Azula could remember life had confirmed that belief. From friends to teachers to her brother, she did as she pleased with them and no one dared try and stop her. There had been no reason to question, no reason to doubt that she could have everything if only she kept following the path Father had laid out… and then, out of nowhere, her exemplar was almost nonchalantly killed by a nameless, faceless nobody.

Fear hadn’t saved Ozai when it counted the most, nor had his seemingly unrivaled firebending. The princess’ young mind was too sharp to fail to notice that this seemed to be rock-solid evidence that everything he had taught her and exemplified ultimately counted for nothing. What other conclusion could she draw? Now that she was forced by circumstance to think about it, something in Azula had to admit that for all her prodigious strength she too was human – she had to eat, to sleep, to bathe, to put herself in a variety of vulnerable positions each and every day. Her back was always turned towards something, and it couldn’t always be a solid wall. Before, if that disturbing thought had occurred to her, she could have consoled herself that fear of her and of the consequences would keep assassins at bay and her guards’ eyes sharp, or that she’d be able to fight any attempt off with her matchless firebending prowess. Her cold, rational side could no longer endure such a belief. Ozai had been stronger and more fearsome than she, and neither had ultimately served to protect him.

But what would, then? Was Mother right? Had she been right all along? Not a month before Azula would never have even considered that the meek, near-helpless Princess Ursa was on to anything, but oh how the tables had turned. Father was gone, Mother was Fire Lady, and Zuzu of all people was the next Fire Lord.

Azula gave a soft little sigh as she stared out the window, soft autumn breeze whipping gently through her hair, and quietly admitted to herself that she missed the simpler times. She missed the clearly defined hierarchy with herself on top, the surety of the glorious destiny that awaited her, the ability to do whatever she wanted to almost anyone she wanted. Now that comfortable existence had been shattered along with all the old certainties, leaving the nine-year-old with far too many questions and far too few answers. Life was much more pleasant, part of her mind noted, when Dad was there to explain everything.

And at that exact moment, Azula found a part of herself wishing that Mom was on that couch with her. She had no idea why.

Within days fresh news did come, but from a most unexpected source. It was midafternoon, and Ursa was once more in the Fire Lord’s spacious office, pouring over a proposed plan for a five-year naval expansion intended to put the Fire Nation’s navy constantly within easy striking distance of not just the northern and western coasts of the Earth Kingdom, but all of them simultaneously. Such a move would require not only massive orders from existing shipyards, but the construction of at least two more in the home islands and no less than fourteen new naval bases complete with repair yards on distant eastern islands to be seized from the Earth Kingdom.

The whole thing was a staggeringly ambitious plan requiring enormous investment of manpower and materiel, sent in by an up and comer in the Ministry of War by the name of Qin. But if it succeeded, their greatest remaining foe would be effectively encircled. From there, driving the Earth Kingdom from its remaining coastal forts ought to be simple, and the army’s mobility considerably enhanced alongside the navy’s ability to provide support for their occupation forces. For her part, Ursa fully intended to consult with the admiralty and War Minster Yongliang on the feasibility of this project, but not before researching it herself so that she had the best possible understanding of just what was being asked for.

It came as something of a surprise, then, when there came a short rapping on the door, followed by the guards stationed outside slowly opening it. The Fire Lady looked up from her papers and tomes with a frown on her face – she wasn’t expecting anyone for several hours. As a figure emerged with obvious reluctance, she recognized her intruder as one of the younger palace scribes, a man by the name of Tan. A scroll, rolled up tight and sealed with a black ribbon, was clutched tightly in his right hand.

“Come in,” she told the nervous fellow in a warm tone.

“Your majesty, I…” he bowed hastily at the waist, “bring you news.”

“I can see that,” Ursa favored him with a slight smile. “It’s alright, I understand the system as well as anyone.”

Ribbons attached to scrolls indicated their priority, and a black ribbon message meant that it was to be delivered to the Fire Lord’s personal attention regardless of circumstances. Or, in this case, his regent’s attention, given that the Fire Lord was eleven years old and currently studying history with his tutors. There was no sense in getting mad at this servant for doing what he was supposed to do, even if it was interrupting.

“You may rise,” she told him. “There’s no sense in delaying. Please, deliver the message. Who is it from?”

“Captain Zaiju of the Domestic Forces, your majesty,” Tan read out, a slight frown creasing his face as his eyes traveled down the scroll.

I have no idea who that is, the regent thought, wondering if she ought to.

“He… reports that a very unusual man dragged another man into his garrison at Kuangshi earlier today.”

Ursa raised an eyebrow. Kuangshi was one of the many smaller industrial towns scattered throughout the home island, a few dozen miles northeast of Caldera City if she recalled her geography correctly. As best she remembered it was a dreary and unexceptional place devoted to turning the mineral riches of the nearby mines into war material, merely one of dozens just like it. Nothing about that suggested why her personal attention was required.

“This man purported that the second man had attempted to hire him to kill you,” the scribe went on, “and as proof handed a substantial amount of gold to the soldiers stationed there.”

Oh.

“The captain was unsure of what to do, and so opted to take both men into custody on the base. The first man, despite being extremely well-built and obviously proficient in combat, affirmed his patriotism and made no move to resist while the man he brought in continues to protest his innocence.” Tan looked up. “Captain Zajiu is unsure of how to proceed and, as the allegation directly concerns your person, wrote at once to ask for your orders, my lady.”

“I see,” Ursa tapped two of her long, immaculately manicured fingernails on her desk for a few moments. “Send a message to the captain informing him that he did well to alert me. Order that the two men be transferred to Caldera City without delay. Unbound and with dignity if they go willingly, in manacles should they resist. Bring the evidence that our informant brought in. I want them both to be questioned, separately.”

“At once, your majesty,” he bowed once more, before turning and leaving his liege to continue pouring over her reports.

The Fire Lady expected their trip to the capital to take well into the evening, and to hear nothing of their stories until the next morning. She certainly did not expect to see a noticeably paler scribe being let back into her office less than an hour later, but that was precisely what happened.

“Yes?” she said politely while the nervous-looking man stepped inside, looking up from her scroll on the Azulon-class, its troop transport capabilities, and its ability to operate as squadron leader far from ordinary patrol routes. “What is it?”

“A report from Captain Zajiu, my lady,” he said with a quick bow, guards closing the door behind him. “Again, marked for your direct attention.”

“Well, then you may as well get to it,” she said, bracing herself for ill news.

“Yes, your majesty,” Tan unfurled the scroll, clearing his throat. “The captain reports that upon receiving the news that they were to be transported to the capital for questioning, the man that allegedly wished to hire someone to assassinate you, identified as Jizian… took his own life,” he said with a visible wince, which Ursa echoed briefly.

“…I see,” she managed, after taking a deep breath. “And how was it that he was able to do such a thing?”

“Your orders were not to manacle them unless they resisted, my lady,” he replied. “Apparently this man had a small knife concealed on his person that the soldiers missed. When they told him what was to happen to him, he feigned compliance before swiftly drawing the blade and running it across his own throat.”

Upon reflection, Ursa reluctantly supposed that she could see why he would do that. Over Azulon’s tenure the palace’s own interrogators had gained a fearsome reputation for being able to coax information out of even the most recalcitrant subjects. Her apparent would-be murderer couldn’t have known that the new Fire Lady had ordered several of their harshest practices to cease. Even so, she hadn’t expected that the mere act of being brought to the capital would provoke such an extreme reaction – evidently, neither had the soldiers.

“That seems to be an admission of guilt then, your majesty,” one of the Imperial Firebenders speculated, earning a nod from one of his compatriots and a quick glare from his Fire Lady. He bowed his head meekly, and she let it go – he was her bodyguard and did have the right to speak on matters relating to her safety.

“What of the other man?” she demanded of the scribe. “The one who brought Jizian in?”

“He agreed to come and be questioned without issue.”

“That’s somewhat better news, at least,” she sighed, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “Do we know who he is by now?”

“He named himself as Ranshao but given that he wasn’t carrying any forms of identifying documentation they aren’t sure if that’s his real name or not,” Tan admitted. “He’s described as a very large and well-built man with a distinctive tattoo on his forehead and metal replacements for his right arm and leg.”

“A metal arm and leg?” one of her masked guards, a man by the name of Saon, started slightly.

The Fire Lady looked over her shoulder at the soldier, one eyebrow raised. “You know this man?”

“Only by reputation, your majesty,” he said quickly.

“Well, what does his reputation have to say about him?”

“He emerged onto the public scene around a year ago with a series of quick and very one-sided Agni Kai,” the man said. “His firebending is like nothing anyone has ever seen before. If half of what they say in the wine shops is true, he’s no one to be taken lightly.”

Indeed? Ursa sat back in her chair, folding her fingers together thoughtfully.

“I know he does bounty hunting work, bringing in dangerous criminals for the state. But there are rumors that he does…” Saon sounded a little uncomfortable, “other sorts of work as well. They say he’s good at what he does, and even better at keeping secrets.”

Would wonders never cease? A patriotic assassin… or at least one farsighted enough to realize that earning the goodwill of the crown was potentially far more lucrative than any single contract could be and didn’t involve being hunted throughout the empire as a regicide for the remainder of his life. That sounded like someone whose motives were at least straightforward, which was more than she could say for most of her government.

“What shall we do, my lady?” the sound of Tan’s voice broke the Fire Lady from her reverie. Ursa considered for a moment before responding.

“Bring the dead man’s body for our coroners to confirm his identity,” Ursa looked up at her ranking bodyguard. “Send one of the Royal Procession to General Zhuan at the Domestic Force’s headquarters and obtain documentation confirming that this is a bounty hunter that has done work for the government before. If he is, bring him to the palace,” she ordered. “I will speak with him myself.”

It wouldn’t hurt to have an element in play not beholden to Azulon’s old spymaster, would it? Just in case.

“My lady, you want to bring a potential assassin right to you?!” another guard, this one named Chaiko, immediately protested. “This might be some scheme, an underhanded ploy to get another murderer in close. The last one was willing to die for a chance at your life.”

“We know that this man is a mercenary and not a fanatic, and that to try anything here would be suicide,” Ursa responded in an authoritative tone. “I will have my guards with me. I assure you that the risks are minimal.”

“You have interrogators and servants plenty, please don’t take unnecessary chances,” he continued. “We’ve already lost too many royals in the last weeks, the Fire Nation doesn’t need to lose another.”

“I’ve already made my decision,” she told him.  

“Why?” Chaiko sounded almost pleading.

Because I don’t entirely trust my spymaster to have my best interests at heart, she thought. And I don’t know who else to turn to for such work.

“I have my reasons,” she said aloud, then looked back at Tan. “See that it is done at once.”

“…Yes, majesty,” the scribe bowed one last time.

The bounty hunter was huge.

Ursa had seen tall, muscular men before, Ozai not the least among them. Her late husband had obsessively kept himself in immaculate physical condition for as long as she’d known him, as if to give himself some imaginary leg up on his less impressive looking but vastly more accomplished older brother. But the man that the Imperial Firebenders escorted into the private chamber dwarfed even Ozai and was a full head taller than her tallest soldiers. The Fire Lady herself, had she been standing, would barely have reached his chest. In spite of her words the day before, she found her mouth drying just a little and was suddenly quite glad for the eight guards that were the room’s sole other occupants.

Her guest, practically dressed in a dull brown tunic and pants, dull steel prostheses strapped to his right leg and forearm, gave a brief but formal bow at the waist before standing up straight. As the ruler herself was seated behind a table, that was only appropriate. The tall man folded his arms behind his back, eyes kept firmly locked on the woman who had sent for him, and waited silently for her to speak, an impassive expression on his face.

“I’m pleased to see you’ve arrived so swiftly,” she began, being careful to keep any trace of the nervousness she felt from her tone.

“I’m used to traveling,” the bounty hunter said simply.

“So I’ve gathered. Part of your profession, is it not? Hunting down fugitives from justice? Or those that you’re otherwise paid to find?”

He nodded silently.

“Is it true then?” she leaned forward, staring straight into his deep brown eyes. “Someone attempted to hire you to kill me?”

“Yes,” he met her gaze without blinking.

“I see,” she continued to stare. “And you chose to turn him in instead.”

“I’m many things,” he said in a cool, level tone, “but not a traitor.”

“Admirable,” she said. “And wise.”

He nodded again.

“How much did they offer you for my death?” Ursa asked the man.

“Ten thousand,” he said in his deep, calm voice. “Twenty-five hundred in advance.”

“You may keep what they gave you as a reward for bringing this to my attention,” she told him, to which he inclined his head slightly. “But I assure you that the crown’s coffers run far deeper than such a meager amount, if that interests you.”

“I’m listening.”

“You are a bounty hunter, are you not? Experienced with tracking down those who wish to evade justice, no matter how far they may run or how well they may attempt to hide?”

And I’m sure you know quite a few people on the shadier side of the law, she thought. And where a malefactor might go when looking to hire another assassin.

He nodded once.

“Then I have my own mission for you to complete. I want you to find whoever it is that’s seeking my death. I’ll pay you two thousand up front for accepting the task, and twenty thousand if you can bring me conclusive proof of the identity of the person or group of persons that’s looking to end me. Twenty-five if you bring the conspirators in alive to face justice.”

“I don’t usually do alive.”

“Thirty,” she said flatly, knowing such a staggering amount of money was nothing to the palace treasury. “And a favored status when it comes to future work. I’m sure the crown will have need of such services as you provide in the future.”

The man’s eyes widened briefly, the most emotion he had shown since they had started talking. His stoic demeanor rapidly returned, and then he seemed to think it over for a little bit. After a short while, he nodded once again.

“Then we have an agreement,” the Fire Lady nodded back. “I trust everything said here will remain strictly confidential?”

“It goes without saying,” he replied.

“Good,” she sat back in her chair. “Prove yourself in this matter, and you stand to gain the enduring goodwill of the most powerful institution in the world. I trust you realize what an opportunity this is for you?”

The man nodded one final time.

“Master Zojin said that I’m doing good at controlling the flames while repeating the mantras in meditation,” Zuko told his mother later that night, while the family was kneeling around a low dinner table. “He said if I keep it up like this, I’ll be ready to try it in the real High Temple by next month.”

One of the many duties of a Fire Lord, as the leader and symbolic representative of their people, was to assist in ensuring their patrons’ favor by personally presenting burnt offerings at certain spiritually significant times of the year – ritually prepared meat and fat from flawless specimens, incense, spices, and embroidered silk prayer strips, mostly. The spirit world was traditionally held to be especially close to the physical during the winter solstice and therefore it made an auspicious time for such rituals. It was held by many to be an ill omen for the coming year if the Fire Lord was unable to take part in the seasonal offering for whatever reason, and the last year had been hard enough. That was why though the event was still a month and a half away, it made sense for Zuko to be learning to conduct his part.

“I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly, dear,” Ursa smiled encouragingly at her son.

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” she reached over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You may be young, but the flames inside you burn bright, and this winter everyone will get to see it.”

Zuko swallowed a little, but then nodded and smiled back up at her. She patted him fondly on the back before allowing her hand to slip back towards her own food. The regent took a bite of tea-infused jasmine rice, freshly harvested and prepared just the way she liked it.

“And how about you, Azula?” she asked a moment later. “How did your lessons go today?”

“Fine, I guess,” the princess answered, busy mixing her own rice into a bowl containing peppers and komodo chicken. “I’m already through the eighth set of katas for the Mantis Scorpion Style, Master Zhaiten thinks I’ll have mastered the whole form by the time the year is over.”

“So I’d heard. Very well done,” the Fire Lady said. “But what about your other lessons? How is learning to play the erhu going?”

“I don’t like it,” she made a little face. “Can we swap it out for more history or something?”

From what Ursa had heard, from her teachers and otherwise, music appeared to be one of the few areas where her daughter possessed no significant natural talent. Azula would have to work hard like an ordinary girl to achieve any skill in it, and even then, it was doubtful she would ever be any kind of musical prodigy. That only made the ruler more determined that the little girl should continue her studies there – being made to train in a field where she was merely average would hopefully give Azula a little perspective. Her daughter didn’t have to be the best, to be perfect, in order to get approval. And seeing things from somewhere other than the top might get her to think twice about looking down on someone merely because their skills or talents in other areas were lesser than her own. Very valuable lessons to learn.

“I think it’s important for you to have a well-rounded education, including in the classical arts,” she said. “Let’s stick with it a little longer and see what happens, alright?”

“Yes, Mother…” the princess said with a sigh, taking a bite out of her mixed bowl.

“It will get better with time, sweetheart. You’ll see.”

“This tastes a little different,” Azula noted, lifting a bite of sweet and sour komodo chicken up to her eyes with a pair of chopsticks and examining it.

“Do you not like it?” her mother frowned. Her daughter typically loved the honey and vinegar flavored dishes, complimenting as they did the spicier cuisine so typical of the Fire Nation.

“It doesn’t taste bad. Just different,” she turned a piece of sticky white meat around idly. “Are they using a new recipe or something?”

Ursa hadn’t told her children, but the kitchen staff had recently had to be entirely replaced and the old ones detained while undergoing interrogation. The guards had discovered slightly unusual specimens amidst the black chokeberries that she liked that turned out to be the lethal fruit of a nightshade plant carefully concealed amidst the usual weekly intake of produce. Obviously, the entire shipment had to be burned and replaced with fresh food from different sources.

“There were a few changes down in the kitchen,” she replied. “We have a new head chef, and I think she’s trying out a few new ingredients. It was very observant of you to notice.”

Her daughter preened a little almost in spite of herself, and Ursa allowed herself to smile at her. Instead of her berries, the Fire Lady herself bit into a peach, a lingering symbol of longevity. In the oldest folktales they were said to be keys to immortality, though that notion was largely discredited after Fire Lord Shizao’s excessive consumption of them failed to prevent the mercury pills his court alchemists had proscribed from killing him. More relevantly it was also a lot harder to replace with a toxic doppelganger fruit.

“Can we have Mai and Ty Lee back over soon?” Azula asked after a few more bites.

The Fire Lady gave the princess a slightly expectant look. Those etiquette classes had surely at least taught her the basics by now.

“Please?” her daughter added a moment later.

“Of course we can, sweetheart,” Ursa rewarded her with a smile. “We’ll see when they’re next off from school and send them an invitation.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Azula intoned in a practiced voice.

“You’re very welcome,” her mother continued smiling quite sincerely at her. It was a small thing, but as the saying went the journey of a thousand miles began with a single step.

The little girl nodded with satisfaction, taking a bite of her sweet and sour komodo chicken.

“Zuko,” Ursa asked after a demure bite of her own meat, “did you have anyone you wanted to invite to see you?”

“Um…” her son looked down, “not really,” he said, in a slightly dejected tone.

The slightest hint of a smirk danced on the edge of her daughter’s mouth, before quickly vanishing the moment her mother’s amber eyes glanced in her direction.

The Fire Lady frowned a little herself. Between his sheltered upbringing as a prince, the relentless weight of his father’s incessant demands for him to meet ever higher standards, and a certain shyness that she felt sure was imposed rather than natural her boy had never had many close friends, though Agni knew a child as sweet as he ought to have. The situation had only gotten worse since Lu Ten, the closest thing to a big brother Zuko had had, had gone off to war. It wasn’t good for a boy his age to have only his mother for positive company – especially now that she had less time for him than ever before. Perhaps, once the situation had stabilized and she felt it safe to do so, Ursa could start looking for a remedy for that.

“Alright then,” she replied. “Maybe another time.”

“Yeah…” Zuko looked down at his plate.

“Speaking of people coming over, though, there is some good news,” Ursa smiled faintly at her children, and especially her son. “We’ve received word from ships of the Home Guard today. Your uncle will be arriving in Caldera City within just a few days.”

Chapter Text

The day of General Iroh’s return to Caldera City was a momentous occasion, to say the very least. When he had set out for the Impenetrable City at the head of the single largest army the Fire Nation had yet fielded, Azulon’s firstborn had truly been the man of the hour, fresh off a series of victories that had swept away every trace of Earth Kingdom military presence between West Lake and the walls of their capital. Even now, despite his momentous defeat and the loss of his only son, there were still many who might be inclined to kill or die for him, or at the very least to support him over a child and an untested regent. The crowds thronging the Royal Plaza down by the harbor to witness the hero’s homecoming were thousands strong, maybe tens of thousands, of which an uncomfortably large number were veterans of the great general’s previous campaigns. With such a delicate political situation the wrong move, or even the wrong word from Iroh, might well set off an outright riot.

Under ordinary circumstances, protocol dictated that as someone of inferior rank (formally, if not necessarily in the public’s mind) General Iroh should come to the Fire Lady Dowager, not the other way around. She should wait in the palace to receive him, seated stoically on the Dragon Throne, before which he should bow. These were not ordinary circumstances, and Ursa scarcely considered that an option for two very good reasons. The first being that, with things being as uncertain as they were, the last thing she wanted to do was give the people or the nobility the impression that she believed the beloved Dragon of the West to be beneath her. If there was a surefire way to draw yet more assassins to her door in a single move, that would have to be it.

The second and more important reason was that Iroh was her family, and indeed by far the marital family member she had liked best for some years. He had lost his only son fighting for their nation’s noble cause, and even the thought of so losing Zuko was enough to nearly tear Ursa’s heart right out. It would be her duty and her privilege to do everything that she could to comfort him in the throes of his grief even if they were both mere commoners, and doubly so considering what she intended to ask of him. No, waiting in Caldera City was not an option. Ursa and her children would be waiting at the docks for General Iroh. The only questions worth asking were the practical ones.

Any movement at all beyond the walled confines of the Royal Palace entailed a certain risk of another assassination attempt, all that could be done was to manage the odds. The Royal Plaza, with its steep cliffs overlooked by dozens of fortified towers bearing heavy siege weapons and arrow slits, unfortunately offered a wide range of potential vectors for a clever killer to strike from. To combat this potential threat, addition units from the Domestic Forces had been pulled from the interior and stationed throughout the fortifications, with each individual tower manned evenly by men and women from at least three separate divisions. Even if there was a conspiracy within the military itself, it would have to be widespread indeed to have a hope of turning the plaza’s powerful defenses against her.

The Imperial Firebenders themselves would be providing the crowd control, ordinarily the Domestic Forces’ role. While vastly outnumbered by the crowds – the Royal Procession consisted of a mere two hundred men at its height and was still waiting on the return of nearly a quarter of its strength from Ba Sing Se – the sheer intimidation factor of their presence ought to be enough to keep any unruly elements from starting trouble and kept them close by in case anything more organized was attempted. The security arrangements were Commander Aiguo’s idea from beginning to end. The man was one of the few the Fire Lady trusted to be entirely loyal and had vastly more military experience than she, so Ursa had agreed to his proposals without issue.  

Arriving at the docks was a bit of a hassle. While it was perfectly acceptable to take a simple carriage from the caldera to the massive tower gate overlooking the plaza, while traveling before the eyes of the masses, something a little more theatrical was required. A special enlarged palanquin had had to be created for the occasion, one capable of comfortably seating Ursa herself alongside Zuko and Azula on her right and left hands, respectively. When the gates swung open after a short stopover, the oversized palanquin emerged onto the immaculately painted crimson path running across the white stone all the way to the harbor, a column of fifty men of the Royal Procession flanking it on either side.

The experience was… a little surreal. While the masses of people who lived in and around the capital’s primary harbor had turned out in what was doubtless their tens of thousands, it became abundantly clear within moments that it was not for the Fire Lady or her children. The people were well-disciplined enough to stay well clear of the honored red road, keeping to the white stone surrounding it only, but that was the most that could be said for them. As the soldiers and palanquin bearers marched in lockstep towards the sea, thousands of eyes fell upon the royal trio, but only the barest hints of clapping or the odd cheer could be heard. Wherever Ursa’s eyes fell through the semitransparent curtain, she could see men and women staring at them with mostly stoic expressions, mixed in with a rare subtle glare. Instead of the wild cheering that she had Azulon command so many times, there was constant undercurrent of hushed voices, citizens of the Fire Nation speaking quietly to one another in such numbers that their inaudible chatter became paradoxically loud.

Li Jie was right, Ursa thought with a slight grimace. I have a long way to go.

With just a little effort she controlled her facial expression, though it was doubtful anyone could have made it out at that kind of distance anyway. Glancing at her children, the Fire Lady saw that Zuko had his head tilted a little bit towards the crowd, and she could make out his expression. Meanwhile, Azula’s face remained locked firmly ahead, with only the occasional flick of her eyes to suggest that she noticed anything unusual at all. As delicately as she could, Ursa removed her arms from where they had been folded into her elaborate sleeves and placed one hand gently on where her son had put his on a cushion, rubbing it reassuringly. Her daughter still had her own arms immaculately folded across her little chest, so she resorted to rubbing her knee instead.

Whatever could be said about the audience, the timing of their arrival could not have been better. The Royal Sloop arriving from Ba Sing Se was just pulling into the elevated stone platform at the end of the crimson road. Even as the palanquin bearers were ascending the steps, the sloop was lowering its boarding ramp. No sooner had the curtains been parted than came the loud clang of metal upon stone. And just as the regent’s elegant, soft shoes touched the ground, a familiar figure appeared atop the ramp.

Behind her, the crowd roared.

It was as if a field of the dead had suddenly sprung to life. One moment everything was whispers and stares, a quiet landscape of judging stares and comments muttered under the breath, thousands of people personifying the Fire Nation’s own uncertainty of its future with the loss of the only ruler most had ever known. In an instant all that doubt, all the fear and worries for the future, was swept away in a grand outpouring of emotion.

The Dragon of the West had returned! The hero of a hundred battles, Azulon’s firstborn and worthy heir for over fifty years, the finest warrior the Fire Nation had seen in his generation! Men and women alike clapped and cheered wildly at his approach, throwing their children up onto their shoulders to catch a glimpse of the great man. None now could ever doubt that the worst of their troubles were over. Now, in their darkest hour in living memory, their nation’s worthiest leader had arrived to rescue them from their woe. The stories told of General Iroh’s exploits had shown him to be the savior of the Fire Nation’s army a dozen times over and none could countenance the thought that he would not be such a savior this time as well. The ever-swelling crescendo of praise and applause touched something deep in the souls of the Fire Nation’s people, and even from where she stood Ursa could feel the wave of renewed confidence deep in her being. For a moment, she almost believed it herself.

Almost.

Unlike the faceless tens of thousands crowding around ceremonial platform, surging in and being pushed back by the strenuous efforts of the Imperial Firebenders, the Fire Lady had the misfortune to be able to see her husband’s brother clearly. Not as a returning hero, mighty king in waiting, or conquering general, but simply as another human being. Zuko and Azula stood beside her now, and she half-consciously placed her hands on either of their shoulders, but her amber eyes remained unavoidably fixed on the short man making his slow way down from the ship.

The Fire Nation’s foremost general radiated misery. In the less than two short years since Ursa had last seen her brother-in-law face to face, he appeared to have aged more than a decade. His receding, deep brown hair was thoroughly shot through with streaks of grey and had fallen even further back on his scalp. Lines deeper even than his father’s own were etched deeply into his face, and especially his forehead. Dark circles ringing his own amber eyes spoke of weeks of fitful, sleepless nights and tormenting dreams. But his eyes themselves… Ursa couldn’t recall ever seeing an expression more haunted in all her years.

The continuing massive ovation from the people seemed so unimportant in that moment, so irrelevant, almost thoughtless. The universe narrowed down to the slow, painful, almost forced-looking steps that the former Crown Prince took down the long boarding ramp, his guards of the Royal Procession almost delicately filing down behind him in pairs.

“Uncle!” Zuko’s voice was a pitch higher than normal, only just audible above the thronging masses. Her only son, the little Fire Lord, broke all protocol almost the instant Iroh had set foot on dry land. He broke free of his mother’s weak grip in an instant and rushed forward, tears in his eyes, and practically slammed into his uncle. No one moved to stop him. His arms wrapped as far as they would go around Iroh’s armored robes, and his face pressed into the older man’s chest.

“…I’m s-sorry for… for what happened to Lu Ten!” Ursa could just barely make him out as saying, and she couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him in that moment, impropriety or no.

Unfortunately, one glance at the general’s face was enough to banish that small pleasure. On another day, such earnestness from his young nephew might have brought at least a hint of a smile to Iroh’s lips. Ursa had seen it several times before, when the general and his son had returned home exhausted from long, grueling, bloody campaigns, only to have his spirits almost immediately raised by some childish affectation of Zuko’s. But today? Today his face showed nothing but pain. Though he placed a strong hand on his young nephew’s shoulder, it was a perfunctory gesture at best.

What was the world coming to, where even the presence of a bright-eyed, innocent child was not enough to banish even the slightest traces of misery?

Can anything? Ursa wondered. A flicker of a thought came to her.

Such a show of overwhelming public emotion from a child was one thing. They were too young, too inexperienced, to be expected to restrain themselves completely. For an adult, much less a noble lady, and even less a reigning regent, such a thing was well beyond the pale. Such a woman must carry herself before her inferiors with poise, elegance, and calm wisdom, embodying the quiet essence of a sturdy hearth-fire. In a public setting, at least, she must serenely meet all the troubles of the world and show herself unflappable. Only thus did she show herself worthy of the high hopes invested in her. To do otherwise was inappropriate. It was undignified. It ran completely against protocol.

Protocol, Ursa decided then and there, could shove it.

The Fire Lady broke her own poised reception position, running forward as best she could in her awkwardly long formal robes. She stumbled once, but still managed to reach the shorter man. She threw her arms around the war hero’s neck and squeezed tightly, pressing her son even closer in between the two of them. For what felt like ages but really could not have been very long at all the three of them stood in their own little world, oblivious to crowds and guards alike, unknowing and uncaring what was going on around them.

“I’m sorry,” the Fire Lady eventually whispered in Iroh’s ear, even as the cacophony all around them continued to rage, rubbing one hand on his back as gently as she could. “I’m so sorry.”

“I… know,” he said simply, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “I know.”

Ursa noticed the tears running down his reddened face at around the same time that her own cheeks started to feel strangely wet. Then those letters – those horrible, horrible letters – came back to her mind, and her cheeks swiftly felt a good deal wetter.

When she eventually did manage to dry her eyes a little on a frill of her robe, Ursa looked down, and then behind her. The Fire Lady found her daughter still standing there by the palanquin. Azula’s arms were folded behind her back, her posture was straight, and her expression subdued, unreadable. When her little eyes met Ursa’s, there was a flash of something. Was it curiosity? Irritation? …Jealousy? Whatever it was, it vanished quickly. The princess made no move to come forward into the family embrace.

The regent let her left hand fall briefly from where it was wrapped around the general’s shoulder, and silently beckoned her daughter with two fingers. Azula started slightly, looked down, and then back up. The ruler softened her miserable expression as best she could, then beckoned a second time. The young prodigy hesitated a moment longer before a taking a handful of measured, efficient steps towards her kin. She squeezed in a bit awkwardly on the side of the tangle of people, her left arm on her uncle and her right on her mother. There was no real force to her hug, but at least she was there. And then, for a little while, all that was left of the Fire Nation Royal Family simply stood there on that stone platform, locked in silent embrace as the world around them continued to resound with deafening cheers.

The applause, however sustained it had been and however elated the demoralized citizens of Caldera were to see their nation’s greatest hero, could not go on forever. Indeed, it was already receding by the time that Iroh had climbed into his own palanquin that rode beside, rather than behind, that of Ursa and her children (another breach of protocol, again in the name of both respect and populism). The cheers had all but died away by the time the main gate of the tower wall overlooking the plaza opened to receive them and went completely silent as the heavy doors slammed closed behind them.

The Fire Lady was the first out of the pair of palanquins, stepping almost hastily out into the tower’s fortified interior ahead of her children, and then proceeding to wait patiently, hands clasped in front of her stomach. It was only through her intense training that she avoided fidgeting as the nation’s greatest living hero took a good little while getting out of his own transport. His movements seemed lethargic, almost machine-like, as if the loss of Lu Ten had torn part of his own soul or even quenched his inner flame altogether.

“General Iroh,” Ursa offered a polite bow when he finally did step down, deciding she’d already countenanced so much violation of ordinary protocol that a little more didn’t much matter. “I thank you deeply for coming so quickly, after such unimaginable hardship.”

“Hmmm,” the war hero’s eyes were barely open, much less looking at her.

“I would like us to return to Caldera City without delay, to give you the recuperation that you need” the regent paused, considering how best to put this and coming up with nothing. “A carriage is waiting and the route has been cleared, your old quarters have been prepared to all of your known specifications,” she trailed off a little awkwardly.

“I sense that there is a ‘but’ in there somewhere, Lady Ursa,” he replied.

“I don’t wish to ask much of you, now of all times, but…” Ursa looked helplessly at him.

“But…” Iroh sighed, eyes closed, “I suppose that after all that has happened, the people need to be reassured. Is that right?”

“Yes,” she half-squeaked, deeply ashamed of herself for even venturing to ask this but also not seeing many other options. “The people, they…”

“They love me, and they are cold to you,” he finished for her.

“That about sums it up, I’m afraid,” the Fire Lady glanced briefly down at her shoes. “As you have no doubt seen, I simply cannot boast your accomplishments or popularity.”

“Tears blur the vision; they do not blind it.” That might ordinarily have been accompanied by a wry smile, but not today. “What are you asking me to do?”

Ursa felt like slime doing something like this. How else could one describe the act of using her own brother-in-law as little more than a political prop for her first public speech after all that had only just happened to him? But… after all the defeat, deaths, and assassination attempts, something had to be done to reassure the people, and she would be damned if she forced Iroh to make any sort of address in his present condition. She was the only one who could do it, and she needed every veneer of legitimacy that she could get. It would not be long, she swore to herself. Just a few minutes, then she would allow Iroh time to rest and grieve as he would.

“I don’t ask you to say anything,” she assured him, hands spread in appeasement. “Only to stand beside me for a short while. If the people of Caldera see that you are with me, they will give me a chance that they might not ever do otherwise. There has been such turmoil here… I…” she swallowed. “Please, General.”

“You could just order him to do it,” came the voice of her daughter from just behind her.

“Shut up Azula!” Zuko immediately retorted. “Can’t you see what’s-”

“Why don’t you shut up, dum-dum?” Azula snapped back. “It’s not like-”

“Children, please,” Ursa cut in a little more harshly than she normally might before they could go any further, silencing both. “Your esteemed uncle deserves more respect than that.”

Neither child said anything else, though the little Fire Lord did briefly stick his tongue out at his sister, earning him a glare from his mother. Zuko quickly retracted it. Fortunately, if that was the appropriate word, Iroh did not look as though he much cared about the brief squabble or implied insult. A man with his heart cut out doubtless placed little value on the bickering of children.

“…Very well,” her brother-in-law said after a moment’s pregnant silence. “If you need me to stand beside you now, I will.”

“Thank you…” Ursa breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, General.”

“I know my duty,” he said, lifelessly.

The ruler bowed her head to him one more time.

The enormous balcony near the top of the Royal Plaza’s guardian tower was, to put it mildly, quite the stage. Though the tropical autumn was still mild and balmy, enormous golden braziers atop every corner of the polished stone railing flared to life as one on the slightest cue, without anyone visibly appearing to light them. But those were nothing compared to the blaze that appeared the moment the decorative three-story gates atop the fortress were pulled open. Orange and yellow and swelteringly hot, even for a firebender, they licked the tower’s ceiling dozens of feet above. But the real genius lay in how seemingly uncontrollable blaze had a carefully concealed steel path straight through its center that remained invisible to the churning masses far below, allowing the illusion that the Fire Nation’s rulers simply emerged whole and hale from the conflagration, as though they were the first humans in the creation myths.

When the Royal Family emerged this time, it was as a single line side by side, presenting a carefully arranged image of unity. Ursa stood in the middle of their little group, with Iroh to her right and Zuko and Azula to her left. She matched her pace carefully to that of her shorter brother and children, doing all she could to avoid placing herself at the forefront. All four of them reached the stone railing at roughly the same moment, marching men of the Royal Procession fanning out evenly behind them in a coordinated show.

Once in position, the Fire Lady opted to waste no time. Azulon might have been able to draw out his speeches here, basking in the adoration of his people, she enjoyed no such luxury. Any hesitation might make her appear weak, uncoordinated or simply shy, none of which were acceptable qualities in the Fire Nation’s ruler.

“My noble subjects, I will not lie to you,” Ursa began, thankful she was much too high up for any of the tiny beads of sweat running down her face to be visible. The well-designed acoustics of the plaza enabled her voice to be heard from far out into the seething tide of humanity below with only a minimum of raising it. “Though today we joyously welcome our nation’s beloved hero home, these last months have been taxing. We have known defeat and tragedy, with the loss of many of our beloved heroes and leaders over such a brief spell.”

A murmur swept the crowd. This was unusual – most Fire Nation public events preferred to avoid mentioning anything remotely negative insofar as it was at all possible, under the theory that it better kept up the population’s morale. Starting with such a statement was next to unheard of, and the Fire Lady doubted many liked it.        

“I say it is not wrong to mourn the sacrifices that we have made, the fathers, brothers, and sons that have laid down their lives for our nation.” Next to her, Iroh winced visibly and screwed up his eyes, and Ursa felt a twinge of guilt but forced herself not to pause. She was committed now and could not allow herself to appear indecisive.

“No, it is no crime to count the costs and weep for what has been lost,” the regent went on. “We would be less than human if we did not.” Here she briefly noticed her daughter’s head tilt towards her and did not quite know why. “We are the Children of the Sun,” she continued. “We are the Chosen of Agni. Passion is our birthright in all things, even this. Even now. I implore you: think no less of those who weep, and comfort those left behind.”

Ursa took a brief pause, allowing the point to sink in. A fresh wave of whispered mutterings swept out through the packed plaza, and she wished for a moment she could understand them.

“But…” she picked up again, as gently as she could, “But we must remember that we are not the first to so weep. For almost a hundred years now have we fought. For decade after decade our noble sons have given their lives in service to a dream they would never see. Did their fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters love them any less than we? No,” she shook her head. “No, they did not. So, why then? Why have we continued to send the bravest among us to the fields of battle year after year, decade after decade, when at any time we could rightly declare ourselves victorious and simply sit back to enjoy the spoils?”

There was a moment of pregnant silence. Hardly anyone dared to speak.

“We do it because we must.”

Another pause. There came a choked sob from beside her.

“I know of no easy way to say this,” the Fire Lady admitted honestly. “Not without it sounding hollow in the moment, to those who are left behind. But it is the truth. What else can I call it?” Her eyes swept out over the hushed masses, doing her best to gauge their reaction.

“When we look out upon the world, what do we see? The Water Tribes, mired in primitivism and want, freezing in the desolate reaches of the poles, sabotaging themselves with obsolete beliefs and pointless taboos. The Earth Kingdom, where the king and his brood cower behind their walls, hoarding what riches they possess and abandoning their own people to the depredations of famine, disease, war, and endless grinding poverty. Uncountable children die daily of diseases and hunger, for want of cures we perfected long ago!” There was a real fire in her voice now, as she put herself herself in the place of a poor earth peasant mother, weeping as her tiny infant breathed its last as one in four would, consumed by a wracking fever so long ago banished from the Fire Nation. “I ask you: can we truly sit back on our prosperous islands, content to ignore the misery of the people so far from our shores?” Ursa shook her head. “Fire Lord Sozin did not think so.”

“The great father of our beloved Azulon saw the truth of the world, the daily tragedies that occurred beyond our borders merely because of the selfishness and incompetence of those that lead them and knew that it fell to us to give our aid. We offer our life’s blood to the war because it is for the good of all. And I tell you this with certainty,” she leaned forward, placing both manicured hands atop the balcony’s railing, “it will not have been in vain.”

“Though we weep, though we lament, though we count the costs as our inner flames flicker low, we are the Fire Nation and the spirits burning inside us cannot be extinguished! We will not surrender; we will not allow this pain to break us! We are strong, and we are worthy to be the salvation of all!” There was a real buzz amidst the plaza now, somehow different that before. “As our exalted forefather daily gives life to the world, we shall renew the corrupt and failing lands beyond our borders. We will sweep aside the decrepit regimes that mire their people in poverty and backwardness.” Now was the time to pull her trump card. “The day of Sozin’s Comet draws near once again, the universe itself comes to our aid. Though we have struggled and sacrificed for many generations, the fruits of all our efforts are in sight. Though the corrupt and their deceived servants may still resist us, the inexorable hour of our final victory yet draws near!”

“I swear on my honor and my life,” her throat began to ache as her voice filled with more and more passion, “that the blood of the heroes shed at Ba Sing Se will not have been in vain! Their spirits will be honored, and the purpose for which they gave their lives will be achieved!” A small tear was making its way down her cheek. “Great Sozin’s dream will be realized! All the peoples of the world will come together in peace and prosperity under the Dragon Throne! I swear this to you – to all of you,” the Fire Lady’s eyes swept out over the vast crowd, tens of thousands of eyes now staring up intently at her. “The blood of our martyred soldiers will herald the dawn of a new golden age for all mankind!”

There was a swelling of excitement from down below, a noise unlike anything she had heard thus far. She was so wrapped up in her own words that she barely noticed.

“Our cause is righteous!” she was almost yelling now. “And we will prevail!” Ursa dramatically lifted both her hands high above her head. “Glory to the Fire Nation!”

For the first time, the crowd below roared – for her.

It took several hours after the former Crown Prince’s public return and Fire Lady’s ensuing speech for Minister Xi of Domestic Affairs to find time alone with the rapidly greying general. It was astonishing to see, up close and with his own eyes, just how badly the man’s experiences were aging him. He was only two years older than when last Xi had seen him, but he looked as if he had aged fifteen or twenty years. The Dragon of the West was to be found on one of the many palace balconies overlooking the capital, staring blankly out over the many villas, gardens, and lakes that fill the caldera, a tea set filled with a steaming dark brew going largely ignored in front of him.

Xi slid the door open as gently as he could, bowing respectfully. There was no response for several seconds.

“…General Iroh?” he said delicately.

“Mmmm,” was the only reply he got. The war hero wasn’t looking at him.

“My lord… I apologize for disturbing you, but may I come outside?”

Iroh sighed, closing his eyes. “You may.”

As gingerly as he possibly could, the minister slid the door the remainder of the way open and slipped quietly through it before closing it again, double checking to make sure they were out of earshot of the Imperial Firebenders standing guard out in the nearby hall. He then knelt down on a cushion across the low table from where Iroh sat. He didn’t presume to touch the prince’s tea set, though it had extra cups. If his liege wanted to bestow that honor he would do so in his own time, and if not, there was nothing for it.

For his own part, Iroh said nothing at all to Xi, his eyes kept firmly closed while his guest sat there with perfect poise. For several minutes, the two waited in perfect silence save for the gentle late autumn breeze rustling past, bringing the scent of piping hot white dragon bush tea to the bureaucrat’s nose. Staring as he was at the ruin of the man he had followed for decades, he minister found it hard not to fidget.

Eventually, Xi forced himself to speak. “My lord, there are no words to adequately express a father’s grief for a son, but…” he sighed heavily. “For whatever it is worth, I am sorry.”

“I regret to inform you that it is not worth very much,” Iroh replied flatly.

“Might there be anything that can be done to raise your spirits?”

“Nothing that lies within your power, Minister,” he replied in a tone utterly devoid of life and mirth.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” the minister said sincerely, looking down and feeling a little ashamed of himself.

There was a short period of silence.

“I sense that you are not here simply to wish me well.”

“I’m afraid you are correct, my lord,” Xi bowed his head slightly, looking somewhat shamefaced.

“Mmmm,” Iroh breathed a sigh of his own. “Say what you must.”

“I wish that circumstances did not require me to impose on your grief, but… for the good of the nation I must ask,” the official summoned his courage. “When will you do it?”

“Do…” Iroh’s voice was low, his eyes still closed. “Do what?”

Xi blinked. “Reclaim your rightful throne, of course. Rid the Fire Nation of this usurping mediocrity.”

“So… that is the game, is it?” For the first time, Iroh’s voice contained a hint of emotion. It sounded like… disappointment?

“The changes to Fire Lord Azulon’s will did not occur until mere hours before his death, my lord.” Xi leaned forward slightly. “It is obvious to all that are not willfully blind that whatever illness claimed your father’s life was affecting his mind at the time. Even a man as great as he could make mistakes in such a state, surely his last delirious wishes should not be taken seriously? The whole nation waits for you to undo this slight mishap. The bureaucracy, the military, all the nobility that’s worth having… we’re all with you, General Iroh. I beg you: lead us.”

Iroh still hadn’t opened his eyes. “…Is my late brother’s wife really so hated, Minister Xi?

“Prince Ozai made himself… many enemies, my lord. It was no secret that he sought to supplant you by any means fair or foul, including taking advantage of your ailing father on his deathbed. That his line and his wife should have been declared heirs in your place because of his shameless skullduggery and a dying man’s delirium is a stain on the honor of the Fire Nation. One that you can undo, here and now.”

“You speak of his enemies as though you were one.”

“I was,” Xi said candidly.

“You realize that admitting to such a thing now does not reflect well upon you,” Iroh said, flatly.

“My lord, you know I would never…” he held up his hands in appeasement. “I swear, on my life and my honor, that I had nothing to do with your brother’s passing and that I know nothing of who was behind it.”

While that was true, Xi was silently thankful for whoever had been responsible. He was old enough to remember a time when Prince Ozai had been a mere boy, and that he had been a spoiled, spiteful brat even then. The thought of such a childish, self-aggrandizing man commanding the Fire Nation was too awful a prospect to contemplate. If only he hadn’t left behind a shameless thief of a wife…

“I hope you are telling me the truth, minister,” the general replied, and for the first time there was a hint of steel to his voice. “For both our sakes.”

“Of course, my lord,” Xi bowed again at the waist. “Always.”

“Mhm,” his reply was noncommittal, his eyes drifting downwards.

“As I said: it’s not just me,” the official continued after a moment’s pregnant silence. “There are many of us who are with you already. And if you declare yourself, denounce this obvious theft and injustice, who among the army or bureaucracy could doubt your right to rule? You are Fire Lord Azulon’s firstborn, the Dragon of the West, our rightful heir and greatest champion returned home in our hour of need. What is Lady Ursa, next to that? An unaccomplished courtier of lesser lineage, ruling in the name of a boy, himself a mere fourth in line for the throne only weeks ago.”

“You speak as though she has no one who supports her at all. As if it would be as simple as walking into the throne room and taking the crown from her head.”

“A few dregs and hangers-on who once followed Prince Ozai, nothing more,” Xi waved a hand dismissively. “Who else would choose her over you? Even an obstinate old leopard goat like Aiguo will back down when he sees that the entirety the Fire Nation is with you. He won’t lead the Imperial Firebenders into extinction in support of an immeasurably lesser ruler.”

“And supposing I did as you ask, Minister,” the rightful heir continued to stare down into his tea. “What then would you say is to become of her?”

“She needn’t suffer,” the minister argued. “She’s just a courtier out of her depth, no true threat on her own once removed. Retire her to some quiet villa on Ember Island with a few trusted guards and she shouldn’t be a problem. Send her daughter to keep her company if you wish it.”

It wasn’t ideal, but if Fire Lord Azulon himself hadn’t been able to convince Iroh to remarry and secure his bloodline, there was no hope that Xi himself could, especially now. The boy would have to be kept around to ensure he had an heir. The girl – who reminded the minister unpleasantly of her father at that age anyway – wasn’t so necessary.

“You… want me to banish my sister-in-law and my niece?” Iroh said in a low, almost ominous tone. “To take my nephew’s last family from him?”

“There’s no need to send the princess away,” Xi backtracked hastily. “Lady Ursa is the only one who truly must go, and she brought it on herself by taking part in this farce.”

The weary-looking general said nothing for a moment, finally taking a long swallow of his steaming brew while the minister looked on.

“She betrayed you,” he pressed, leaning forward over the table. “She took advantage of your lowest moment to steal what rightfully belongs to you! Your throne cannot be safe while she lingers here, not after what she’s done. If you remove her and leave her be then you will never be truly secure in your reign – she and your brother’s old followers will continue plotting behind your back, and after this shamelessness who knows what they will not do,” he eyed his would-be ruler. “And if you allow her to stay, she will certainly turn your nephew against you.”

“Do not speak of things that you do not understand, Xi,” the war hero shook his head.

Xi frowned a little. He’d expected to get at least something of a reaction out of that one.

“Please,” he said. “I beg you, for the sake of the Fire Nation, depose this usurper. Reclaim your rightful crown. Lead us to the glory that your illustrious grandfather dreamed of.”

“Glory,” repeated Iroh in a hollow voice. “Glory…” he sighed deeply, shutting his baggy eyes once again. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your highness…”

“Is it glorious that my son lies dead thousands of miles from his home?”

“My lord, I…” Xi looked uncomfortable. He’d been hoping that the weeks that had passed had taken at least some of the edge off of Prince Iroh’s grief.

“Is it glorious that he was crushed beneath the stones of a score of enemies?” he scowled deeply, teeth visibly gritted. “Answer me, Minister! Is it glorious that there was barely enough of Lu Ten left to… left to...”

The change was incredible. One moment the general had looked almost like the fearsome warrior Xi knew him to be, the fierce conqueror of a dozen provinces, the peerless warlord who had brought Ba Sing Se to its knees. The next… he broke. There was simply no other way to describe it. Every ounce of confidence, every pretense of calm suddenly fled General Iroh, and what was left was a ruined old man, bearing all the weight of his years and many more besides. His eyes were squeezed shut as if against an unbearable glare, but streams of tears nonetheless flowed freely down into his greying beard. The prince’s chest heaved, and for some time the only sound that could be heard was that of his quiet sobbing.

“I led my own son… to his death…” Iroh eventually managed. His voice was raw, his cheeks red and glistening wet. “And you think I can lead the Fire Nation?”

“What are you saying?” Xi’s eyes were wide, his face pale with the implications.

“If she wants it… let her have it,” his liege said miserably, head hanging as yet more tears trickled down his cheeks. “She cannot be worse than I am.”

“You surely cannot mean to-”

“I mean it,” Iroh snapped, looking up with visibly bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t cross a thousand miles of land and sea for a coup!”

“Then… then why?” he half-whispered. “Why would you return, if not to claim what is rightfully-”

“My brother is dead!” the prince snarled furiously, and for a moment the minister saw the vicious warrior again. “My father is dead!”

Xi flinched, visibly wilting under the petrifying gaze of Azulon’s firstborn.

“Do you think I want the rest of my family dead as well?!”

“N-No…” he managed, gulping audibly as the air around them both seem to grow hotter, more stifling.

“No indeed,” Iroh snorted, smoke coming from his nostrils. “I came here for one reason and one reason alone. I trust I have made it clear to you?”

“Yes…” the minister was forced acknowledge, bowing stiffly. “Yes, my lord.”

Oh yes, Xi thought. You’ve made the situation very clear. He frowned a little inside. And very unfortunate.

“She didn’t even try to comfort General Iroh,” said one muffled voice.

“She didn’t even pretend to care,” hissed a second. “Her own uncle!”

“You know what I heard?” said the first. “The villa staff said that when she heard that Prince Lu Ten had passed, she was happy!”

“What an ungrateful little brat.”

“A little monster is more like.”

From where she sat alone in one of the palace’s many spare guest rooms, as far from her guards as she could manage, ear pressed to the wall, Azula ground her teeth. How dare these peasants presume to judge the likes of her?! Even as a child, she was so far above their pathetic little existences that they barely counted as the same species. They thought they could tell her what was right and what was not?!

The worst bit, the princess reflected as the sounds of the servants faded and she sat back onto the sofa, was that this was the third such instance of such insolence she’d caught in her eavesdropping session just that day. The fact that she alone of her family hadn’t rushed Uncle shedding those ridiculous tears over his dead progeny had been noticed, and word was apparently getting around fast. But that was only half the equation. Ursa was too soft, too weak to cow the servants into being silent help that they ought to be. They never would have dared to talk about her at all, much less in such a disrespectful way, if Ozai had been in charge. She cursed the unknown assassin yet again, for leaving her stuck with Mother instead.

And Mother… Mother had shown her true colors once again on that balcony. All that nonsense about loving her, caring about her, wanting her to feel happy, all of it fell away in a single moment. Before the eyes of the whole world, Ursa had called Azula less than human because she did not mourn her dead cousin, her dead grandfather, or the insignificant pawns who had died for the advancement of their position. Because she didn’t care about her pathetic uncle’s pointless wailing. Because she was in it for herself, and the legacy of the only worthwhile member of her whole family: Father.

Ozai had been right all along. Her mother thought of her as subhuman, as a monster, simply because she was born superior and proudly knew herself to be so. Because she recognized that inferiors only mattered for how useful they were, and that the deaths of rivals were to be celebrated. All that Ursa wanted was a doll to compliment her beloved boy, and Azula refused to be her sweet little plaything. Even if she was alone in the world now, even if there was no one she could truly turn to for help, she swore to herself that she would not falter in her destined course. She was the best, and she was meant to be supreme. Whatever it took, she would get there. She could figure out the rest later.

There was no point in reporting these insolent peons to the Fire Lady, the princess decided. Mother would probably just agree with them.

An annoying little voice inside her asked if she really believed that was true, or just wanted to. Azula promptly quashed it.

“Hmph,” she said to no one in particular.

The garden was every bit as quiet as Iroh remembered. Once he might have found comfort, or even humor, in that fact. That after almost two full years away from home, two years of grinding, bloody siege warfare beneath the greatest walls in the world, after all the ground gained and the wounded and the dead – so many dead – that the royal gardens hadn’t changed at all. They were still the same peaceful, beautiful place he remembered his father showing him in his youth. They were still the same serene place where Lu Ten had come when he was little, gawking at the springtime blooms, the butterflies, the buzzing bumblebees. The aging general had eyes for none of it – he merely bowed his head in shame.

There was no peace here now. There was no peace to be found anywhere.

Iroh knelt beneath the shade of a tree beside a crystal-clear pond brimming with koi fish, their brilliant scales gleaming gold, orange, red, and white. Black scaled fish seemed to blend in with the shadows near the pond’s base, visible only by their slight sheen or the occasional lazy flick of their tails. The hot afternoon sun that would normally have been so invigorating was beating down overhead, the only clue he had of how long he might have been there, if he had cared to know. In truth, Azulon’s firstborn barely remembered how he had gotten there in the first place. Part of him vaguely supposed it was after he had eaten something that morning. Probably.

The prince stared into the water, just as he had been doing for hours. Golden eyes fixed unblinkingly into the shallow depths, all but oblivious to anything save the only thing he had truly been able to think about for weeks. The siege. The last words he had exchanged with his son. How utterly ordinary they had been. How little there had been left of his only child. Most of all, how it was all his fault.

He’d had ideas since the day that the nightmare had begun, of course. Almost mad ones, it was true, but… what father could possibly ignore even the slightest chance to see his son again? To tell him how sorry he was, how much he missed him? To, if it were somehow possible, even lay down his own life in exchange for Lu Ten’s own?

There came a slight creaking from behind him as the guards outside opened up the garden’s gate to admit someone else. The old general knew who it was even before he heard the soft sound of silk slippers gliding over the grass. He didn’t turn around. There was no one else it even could be.

Even at his lowest point, what man of honor could bring himself to ignore the pleas of his brother’s gentle widow and her two orphaned children, the last of his living family, right when they needed him the most?

Iroh said nothing as his sister-in-law came to stand beside him, her reflection in the pool showing weary eyes and a somber expression. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Ursa knelt down beside him as quietly as she could. For some time, the two knelt beside the garden pond in utter silence, with only the beating of their own hearts to mark the minutes dragging by. She said nothing at all even though her brother-in-law did nothing to acknowledge her presence despite her technically superior position, displaying a patience he might have found admirable if he had been in any fit state to notice it.

As it was, he merely felt wrapped up in his own turbulent emotions, part of him dreading being called from mourning and another part scolding the first for wishing to compound his failures towards his family with still more. For a long while he continued to kneel in silent contemplation, allowing himself to fully experience what part of him feared might be his last chance for unhindered grief. But the call of duty waited for no man, and whatever else he might be the ties of his blood remained strong.

“You came to ask me for something else,” he eventually began in a low voice, opening his eyes just a crack. “Didn’t you?”

“…Yes,” the Fire Lady nodded reluctantly. “I’m sorry… I don’t want to intrude upon you, but…” she gave her brother-in-law a helpless look, her shoulders visibly slumping.

“I… expected as much,” Iroh sighed, looking over at her. “You did not say I was needed here for nothing.”

“Well, no, but…” her amber eyes seemed reluctant to meet his. “But…” she took a deep breath, straightened up a little, and seemed to force her gaze to upwards. “But there is one thing to do first. Before I ask anything more of you, I mean.”

“And what would that be?”

“I’m afraid…” Ursa swallowed. “That there is something you deserve to know.”

Chapter Text

“What…” Iroh sniffed once, “do you mean I deserve to know?”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Ursa looked down herself. “But after my husband’s passing, his office was searched.” She pulled a neatly folded set of papers from her sleeve, wrapped protectively in wax paper and bound tightly with scarlet twine. “These were found amongst his belongings.”

The Fire Lady reached out with one manicured hand and passed the small bundle into the Dragon of the West’s stockier, somewhat unsteady grip. Her brother-in-law simply stared at them for a moment, taking several deep breaths as if gathering mental strength. Finally, he forced himself to unwrap the package and unfold the letters one by one. The process took several minutes, in which time she knelt by the pond in patient silence, hands folded neatly upon her lap. For a time, the stillness was only broken by the occasional flick of a koi fish’s tail as it breached the water’s surface.

When at long last the old general finally laid aside the last of the papers, she could see a few more glimmering streaks down his already reddened cheeks. His eyes were closed and his head bowed low, covering his face in shadow despite the afternoon sun high overhead.

“My brother was spying on my… my son.”

“Yes,” she nodded slowly.

“I suppose I ought to have expected something like this. He had long been looking covetously at my position. But,” he looked miserable. “Whatever else Prince Ozai was, he was still my brother. Politics ought not to have divided us so.”

“You miss him.”

“I knew him since he could crawl.” Iroh’s shoulders sagged. “What else can I do?”

“I understand completely,” she said. “But there is more.”

“More?”

“The day that the news arrived of… what happened, my late husband arranged for an audience with Fire Lord Azulon. I was dismissed before the end, but I’m given to understand,” she swallowed, “that he requested your birthright without the slightest delay.”

The Dragon’s bloodshot amber eyes were wide, a shocked expression plastered over his weathered features. The Fire Lady said nothing for a time, half expecting her brother’s face to show something of the possessive, protective wrath for which so much of his family was known, but no such fury appeared. If anything, he appeared even more devastated than before.

“I knew for years that Ozai coveted the throne,” he eventually managed, “but I never suspected that he hated me so much, that he could be so brazen, so…” here he let out a slight sob. “Heartless. The very same day?”

“The very same,” she confirmed with a grim expression on her face.

“How Father must have… h-hated me for losing Lu Ten,” Iroh went on, “if he consented to such a proposal.” There was a pause. “Not that I blame him.”

“He didn’t hate you,” Ursa reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Do not lie to spare my feelings, Lady Ursa.” He brushed it off. “It was not as though my disinheritance was undeserved.”

“Don’t say such things!” she urged him. “What happened to Lu Ten was not your fault, Iroh.”

“I told you not to lie to spare my feelings!” this time, there was some anger audible amidst the misery. “I was Lu Ten’s commanding officer! I devised the plan of attack! I allowed my son to go to the front lines! Who else’s fault could it possibly be?!”

The previous night…

“Fire Lady Ursa,” said a soldier of the Royal Procession, “presenting Colonel Cheung of the 57^th Army Brigade, freshly arrived from the former Army of Ba Sing Se, as you commanded.”

“Very good, Private Shizi,” Ursa nodded from where she knelt upon a gold-threaded crimson silk cushion. “Please, show him in.”

“By your leave, my lady,” he said.

By the standards of the Fire Nation Royal Palace, the private tearoom in which she waited was small and cozy. By the standards of an ordinary building, it was, well, palatial. Easily large enough accommodate half a dozen elongated tables themselves able to seat a dozen or more comfortably. The entire was bedecked in vermillion and crimson curtains trimmed in shining gold, four long tapestries on each wall depicting famous moments in the life of Fire Lord Sozin, rounded out by a single mammoth carpet gifted in tribute by the conquered Earth Kingdom city of Nan Hua, for that pinch of ever-fashionable exoticism. The sweet scents of incense and cinnamon wafted through the air, ever-present but not overpowering, thanks to a set of small bronze burners nestled discretely amongst the décor. If she hadn’t spent much of her life in similar surroundings, the regent might have felt herself and her modestly sized table set out for two almost comically outsized.

Escorted in by an Imperial Firebender, the officer that she had been waiting so long to meet was not a terribly impressive figure. Middle-aged, with receding brown hair that had not yet turned grey, a neatly trimmed full beard, and wearing the black and red armor of his rank above the standard grey tunic and pants, Cheung could have been one of a thousand mid-ranking officers from among the army. His face maintained a respectful but reserved expression as he bowed.

“My lady,” he said from his knees, “it is an honor to be called before you.”

“You may rise,” she told him evenly, before gesturing with one hand for him to take a seat.

With only a slight amount of hesitation at unusually brief formalities, the career soldier rose back to his feet and crossed the room in a few quick, measured strides before kneeling down himself on the only other cushion provided, directly across the table from Ursa. Years of practice from long, formal war meetings had left his posture immaculate, back straight as a ramrod, legs folded in perfect symmetry, and hands neatly resting on his knees. Waiting servants of a suspiciously male and well-built persuasion needed no cue to pour their guest and their lady tea, though much of the normal ceremony of the occasion was brushed aside.

“My thanks,” Ursa said, lifting the cup to her lips. “You may leave us.”

Guards and table servants alike bowed, filing out with a practiced ease and discipline that suggested the whole thing was prearranged – which of course it was. There was a small degree of risk in isolating herself with a man she had every reason to believe to be a murderer, but the Fire Lady hadn’t gotten where she was without a few of those. It was in a room very similar to this one where she’d poisoned the last Fire Lord, after all.

Ursa took a moment to draw things out, sipping delicately on her aromatic beverage, savoring the sweet taste of the imported spices with her eyes almost closed. Through the thin crack of visibility between her long eyelashes, she could see that her guest was staring straight at her from his perfect military posture, not touching anything set before him. His face was level, but that alone was enough to give away his nerves. Good. Let him stew in his own uncertainty a moment longer.

“I’m sure you’re wondering,” she eventually began in smooth, calm voice, “why I’ve called you here today.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Cheung admitted. “It is an honor to be called on by name, of course, but… I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“That’s because we have not,” she said. “And you may call me Lady Ursa, if you wish.”

“As you say, my lady,” he bowed his head slightly. “But the question remains, why? I cannot claim any great feats of heroism that would bring me to your attention.”

“It’s quite simple, you see. Shortly before his death, my late husband informed me that you had recently done him and our family a very great service,” Ursa said.

The colonel blinked. “He did?”

“And that you were to be richly rewarded for it.”

The officer’s eyes widened, and though he swiftly tried to hide it, she spotted the gleam of hope that passed through them.

“And I am a woman who prides herself on paying all of my debts,” she continued. “If you’ve truly aided us, then I ought to repay you in kind.”

His stiff shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That is… most gracious of you, Lady Ursa.”

“Unfortunately, before his murder the honored Prince Ozai neglected to inform me just what it was that you had done for us.” She casually added a little more sugar to her tea. “So, I was hoping that you could fill me in, so that I could determine appropriate compensation.”

Ursa looked the man in his amber eyes and could practically see the war between caution and hope and greed within his mind. If he were a sensible man, he would keep quiet, accept his continued modest career in the military, and retire with honor several years into the future as an undistinguished but dutiful son of the Fire Nation. But if Cheung were a sensible man, if he were the type to allow reasonable fears to hold him back from insane risks, he would never have been one of her husband’s creatures to begin with. The consequences for being caught as party to a conspiracy to kill Fire Lord Azulon’s favorite grandson would have been too horrible for description.

Ozai must have promised him so much. Wealth far beyond a humble officer’s pension and a noble title were certainties. A governorship in some rich colony too, or perhaps a high place at court. Honors heaped atop his head and status far beyond anything a mere common-born soldier could hope to earn in decades of loyal service to his country. The fool was never going to get any of it, obviously. He was too much of a liability once the deed was done. He would probably have ended up exiled or killed himself to tie up loose ends. But he didn’t know that.

It must have been so frustrating for him, to plot and scheme and assume so many awful risks to see the deed done, only to suddenly lose out on everything that he had been promised through sheer ill fortune. Now here she was, the Fire Lady Dowager herself, offering him a last lifeline to everything he had missed out on. He would never get another chance at this – there were no more princes in the army to betray. His common sense ought to be screaming at him, warning him that this was too good to be true, to clam up and return to his unit and his meager but relatively safe future. But the same allure of riches and power and status that had drawn him to Ozai in the first place would have been pulling him in the opposite direction.

Greed won out, as she’d known it would.

“I helped place you and your children on the throne,” the colonel at last admitted.

“You what?!” Ursa feigned surprise, partially covering her mouth with one hand. Then she frowned a little, as if suspicious. “Explain, now.”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story…”

“I have time.”

“Are you certain? The details may not be-”

“Now, Colonel,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument

“…Where to begin?” he sighed, then took a fortifying sip of his tea. “There was a young man in our camp, barely older than a boy,” Cheung explained. “His name was Lee. One of the local traders caught in a village outside the walls. We’d conscripted him as labor. He did menial chores like carrying food, handling laundry, filling in the latrines.”

“Fascinating,” the regent said drily.

“There was an incident not long after he began working for us that a pair of spare firebender uniforms went missing from our unit’s supplies. Not many would notice, but I did.” He sounded pleased with himself. “It didn’t seem a coincidence that the next few weeks saw a rash of sabotage. The army lost number of siege engines to odd mechanical failures, and food supplies kept turning up spiked or spoiled, until Prince Lu Ten’s men caught a different spy in an army uniform trying to poison their rice.”

“I see,” she nodded. “Go on.”

“I suspected that Lee might be an agent of the Dai Li – that’s the elite earthbending force that maintains the social order in Ba Sing Se. During the probing stages of the assault, I allowed him to catch wind of some unimportant tactical information to be sure, and watched the enemy react to cut off and encircle our advances before we’d even made it halfway.”

As he spoke, Ursa had to consciously keep her jaw from setting.

How many of our nation’s sons did you get killed just to set the stage for my nephew’s murder?

“As interesting as your war story is, I cannot yet see its relevance for my children inheriting the Dragon Throne.”

“I’m getting to it,” he assured her hastily, then cleared his throat. “When the order came for the general advance through the Agrarian Zone, I arranged the guards so that the boy had a few minutes where he could sneak inside a command tent and be alone with our upcoming battle plans, with Lu Ten’s position in the offensive marked out,” Cheung continued. “The earthbenders knew right where to stage the ambush that wiped out his entire command.”

“I see,” Ursa nodded along, favoring him with a slight, almost mischievous smile. “Very clever of you,” she flattered.

She watched the officer swell a little and suppressed her disgust. This was what she wanted. Give him the impression that she was as ambitious and heartless as her husband, that she was indifferent to the murder of her nephew if it benefitted her somehow, and he would keep talking.

“Well, I don’t want to brag,” he said, an unpleasant smile forming at the edge of his mouth. “But I did pull it off in a way no one would ever take for foul play.”

Callous, treacherous, and proud of it, Ursa thought. A charming combination.

"And you did it all alone too? That was quite the feat."

"I couldn't risk anything getting out by involving anyone else," he shrugged smoothly. "The more people who knew, the more risk someone might have flipped to General Iroh, hoping for a better reward. Besides, one man in the right place and the right time can do more damage than an army." He held his head high. "I was that man."

"Of course," she nodded in an appreciative manner. “This brilliant scheme was all at my late husband’s direction, I assume?”

“Of course, Lady Ursa,” Cheung’s pleased expression grew wider. “It was ever my honor to assist his highness Prince Ozai in ensuring that a worthier bloodline would sit on the Dragon Throne – as they now do.”

“Indeed, we do,” she affected some of the arrogant pleasure she’d become so familiar with over the years of living with that man. “A glorious day in Fire Nation history, and one for which we apparently have you to thank.”

The treacherous officer visibly swelled under her praise.

“But you realize of course that this is a somewhat fantastic claim to be making,” she went on, and his grin faded somewhat.

“Is your esteemed husband’s word and my own not enough?”

How stupid would I have to be to trust the word of a man whose boast is in his perfidy?

“While such service to my family as you claim would of course deserve a fine reward, but… how can I be certain that you are telling the truth if I’ve only your word to go on? Prince Ozai told me nothing of your actual achievements on our behalf.” She leaned forward. “You might be exaggerating your contributions to my family’s ascension.”

The army officer’s eyes dropped for a little while. “…I kept his letters,” Cheung muttered quietly. “I was supposed to burn them, but I didn’t.”

“And why would that be?”

“In case he tried to go back on our agreement. Forgive me for seeming uncertain of his integrity…”

“You are forgiven,” she said instantly, and for the first time sincerely.

Cheung blinked. “…Right,” he nodded quickly. “I hope it doesn’t offend you that I wanted some assurance.”

“It does not,” she warmly assured him, smiling in that reassuring way any good mother can. “Any reasonable man would for such great services. But tell me, what use would such things be to you, out on the warfront at Ba Sing Se?”

“If he didn’t come through with what he promised, I would have let him know what I had.”

“Go on,” she urged. “What if he ignored you?”

“If Prince Ozai cut contact or… tried to have me silenced, I was going to see his letters delivered straight to Fire Lord Azulon and then surrender to the Earth Kingdom.”

This man had hoped to blackmail Ozai? Fool indeed. At least he’d had the bare minimum of sense to prefer a stay in a barbarian’s dungeon to what Azulon would have done to him for such treachery. Maybe he could have provided them with intelligence on the Fire Army in exchange for more comfortable conditions. Disgusting wretch.

“I see,” Ursa took a fortifying sip of tea. “You’re a clever man, Colonel. You still have these letters for me to look at, then?”

“…Yes,” he admitted.

You should have burned all your correspondence the moment you got the news of Ozai’s death, she thought. But you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy that last thin hope of the life you’d dreamt of, could you?

“You would not have come all this way to meet with me and left them behind,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “I would see them for myself before I determine your due reward. I know my late husband’s writing.”

“Lady Ursa, is that truly necess-”

“Yes,” she cut him off. “I must have proof of your accomplishment if you wish me to reward you. Where might they be found?”

He hesitated again, and she knew some part of him must have been acutely aware that he was giving up his last potential bit of leverage. But he had gambled on telling her the truth already, there was no going back now.

“They’re in my barracks, underneath a false bottom in my travelling chest,” he eventually confessed. “Wrapped in a leather case and wax paper to protect them from the elements.”

“I see,” the Fire Lady visibly relaxed, then smiled at him warmly. “Thank you, Colonel Cheung, you’ve been most helpful. I’ll just need a moment to verify all of this, if you’ll kindly be patient just a little longer.”

The officer looked a little bit nonplussed for a moment, then swallowed it and returned a sort of half-smile. “At your pleasure, of course.”

“I know all the waiting after rendering such a great service must have been hard on you,” she said in a very sympathetic, almost motherly tone. “But rest assured, you’ll shortly be getting exactly what you deserve.”

Cheung’s smile became more genuine. “Thank you, Lady Ursa.” He inclined his head towards her, before taking a long sip of tea. “You’re as generous as you are beautiful.”

The Fire Lady favored him with a rather coy smile before quickly hiding most of her face behind one of her long sleeves. Her deep amber eyes twinkled with a mischievous, almost girlish sort of shine, and the colonel’s posture visibly relaxed. Indeed, for the briefest of instants one might have detected a sly edge to his smile.

After a moment’s pause, Ursa rose gracefully to her feet, then walked the short distance to one of the curtains nestled against the wall, gently tugging on a dangling silk cord as if to summon a servant. The bulge in the traitor’s eyes when it was a squad of five Imperial Firebenders that burst in instead a few seconds later was sight to behold. He made as if to rise, only for two of the well-built elite guards to slam him face down onto the floor with brutal efficiency, rapidly pinning his arms behind his back. Three of the soldiers made quickly to secure his hands and feet, and Ursa watched as the guards affixed heavy manacles to the man’s arms, binding his legs with thick chains. Two others hovered protectively near their ruler.

“Colonel Cheung has just confessed to taking part in a conspiracy to betray the Fire Nation,” she told her soldiers as they roughly hoisted the bound man to his knees, “and is duly placed under arrest for treason.”

“But I…” the man squirmed futilely, “But-”

“Silence him,” she ordered in a stern voice.

They complied without question, stuffing a heavy strip of black cloth none too gently into his protesting mouth before binding it up with still more.

“Send someone to his barracks immediately. Tear his chest apart until you’ve found the leather-bound correspondence, and bring them directly to me,” she continued calmly.

“It will be done, your majesty,” one of the guards bowed at the waist.

“Thank you, Qin Lee,” she smiled and nodded at him.

The man bowed one more time, then turned and dashed from the room.

Looking back over at Colonel Cheung, the ruler bent over onto one knee, bringing her eyes almost level with his.

“Did you think I would be pleased with your treachery?” she hissed venomously, right into his face. “Did you think I would reward you for such crimes?!” She stood up straight, a naked snarl on her normally pleasant face. “Here is your reward.”

The Fire Lady turned back to her guards, including those wearing the clothes of servants. To a man, their faces were hard, their eyes tightly focused on her.

“Take this vermin to the ocean, tonight,” she commanded. “Bind him firmly to weights and cast him into the depths. Give him no satisfaction of last words nor vindication of funeral rites. May his cursed spirit wander La’s watery underworlds for all eternity,” she practically spat.

The Royal Procession were loyal, and they were discreet. One of their own had already died to protect her. For seventy-five years they had unflinchingly carried out the oft ruthless will of Fire Lord Azulon with no questions asked. Above anyone else, Ursa trusted them to carry out her orders without hesitation or doubt. By his frantic squirming, so did Colonel Cheung.

“Let the record show he died of seaborn illness on his journey home,” she eyed each of them in turn. “And speak of this to no one.”

The soldiers bowed one last time.

Ursa sat in her office, completely alone at the Fire Lord’s desk, a small stack of innocuous looking papers in her hands and a dismayed expression on her face. It was all here, almost two years of correspondence from the late Prince Ozai. Never by name, he was not that careless, but she recognized her own husband’s handwriting well enough. At first, they were simple things, terse scrawls of broad orders and the occasional request for clarification. None had any dates attached, but the further down she went the longer and more elaborate the letters grew, as though Ozai over time grew more comfortable with this system of tacit communication and wrote more freely. There were frequent scathing comments about his brother’s leadership, the amount of time the siege was taking, and even curt dismissals of his late nephew’s prowess as a fighter. Lu Ten was several times contemptuously compared to the writer’s young daughter at her age. Pointedly, no son of his was ever mentioned.

The very last one was very brief, and hardly coded at all. “When the offensive begins, do it.” With just a few simple characters, her husband had signed his own nephew’s death warrant and betrayed not just his family, but the entire nation as it fought its greatest battle in decades. The sheer callous selfishness of the act was absolutely appalling, and the longer she stared at it the angrier she became. Ursa did not think of herself as a woman especially inclined to cruelty, but she wished to all the world right at that moment that she had stabbed Ozai several more times, or at least taken the time to twist the knife. Eventually she had to sit back and look away, breathing deeply in and out for a little while to regain focus and clarity.

She wished she could just hand these papers to Iroh. To give her brother-in-law true closure, and what justice she could. But she dared not risk it. There were already enemies on all sides, ready and willing to pounce on her and her children. She could not take even the slightest chance of adding a powerful new one into the mix. If her marital brother believed that she might have had even the slightest knowledge of what her husband was planning… if Azulon’s blood flowed just a little more strongly in him than she believed… little Zuko and Azula might well wind up on the chopping block after all as the cursed heirs of a traitor, in spite of everything she had done up to this point. She didn’t truly think Iroh was capable of such a thing, but then she had thought the same of Azulon.

Keeping them for some future use was no option. No matter how well she hid them, no matter how many guards there were, there was always the chance that someone, somehow, would find these papers. And if it ever came out what Ozai had done, no matter how innocent the remainder of his family might have been, the entire situation simply appeared so damning for the entire family that neither Ursa nor her children could ever hope to live as anything more than isolated prisoners in perpetuity, dishonored and hated outcasts. Even if Iroh did not think her or them guilty by association, so many others would that even his outright pardon would most likely make no difference.

Ursa had personally delivered all the justice that she could to both of Lu Ten’s murderers. She could only pray that was enough to make up for what she was about to do. She took a deep breath to steady her trembling hands, and then scoped up the entire pile of paper. Crying soft, shameful tears, the regent kindled a flame in her hand, and set the letters alight.

“I…” the Fire Lady looked down at her knees. “I don’t think you should…”

“Blame myself?” The anger in his voice evaporated as quickly as it had come, replaced with yet more pain. “I’m afraid you’re too late.”

Ursa stared downwards. It was not that she did not feel his pain or wish to make sense of it or ease it, but… as hard as it was to remember right then, the man who ordered the death of his wholly innocent grandson to make a point was this man’s father. The man who would have killed his own son and sanctioned the killing of his own father and nephew was this man’s brother. It was better not to tempt the old Dragon’s vengeance on her own family. Zuko and Azula had more right to a childhood free of the threat of reprisal than Iroh did to know of a crime committed by a man already beyond further justice.

Though, admittedly, his subdued sobs were making it very hard to remember that fact right at that moment.

“Do not spare my feelings,” he eventually managed. “I do not deserve it.”

“…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to add even more to your burden,” her shoulders slumped. “I merely wanted you to know the truth of how you and I found ourselves here before I said what I came here to say. You deserve that much from me.”

“And what is it that you came here to say?” he asked, still clutching the last report in his hands, dark spots now staining the yellowed paper.

“I came here to say that I do not think it was right, what your brother did that night. Fire Lord Azulon was not right to do as he did.”

In more ways than you know.

“As far as I am able,” she went on. “I would make amends.”

“Make… amends?” he replied slowly, as if tasting each word.

“I cannot return all that you have lost to you,” Ursa’s voice was heavy, “but I can return this.”

The Fire Lady sank more deeply onto her knees. She reached up with one manicured hand and pulled the crown from where it sat in her topknot. Hands shaking slightly, she proffered the golden flame headpiece to its rightful owner as she bowed her head.

“I will not be complicit in injustice to the great hero of our nation,” she told her brother-in-law. “Whatever the contents of Fire Lord Azulon’s will, I believe that this most of all belongs to you. By right of blood, you were born to it and by right of deeds you have earned it. No one has had the training for this that you have had. No one alive has done as much for our nation’s cause as you.”

Iroh simply stared.

“If you desire it, take up your crown,” the regent said. “I will not resist you. And don’t worry about your nephew: Zuko would be perfectly content, even relieved, I think, to hear of you reclaiming it.” She managed a faint smile. “Take it, and I will retire from Caldera if you wish it or stay here if you would prefer. All I ask is that wherever my children go, I go with them.”

Even if Iroh took the crown from her, he was still old and highly unlikely to ever sire more children. Zuko would still inevitably become Fire Lord, for who else but the now-firstborn of the royal family’s next generation could be his heir? That would be enough for her, she told herself.

Still, when nothing happened for a spell, she couldn’t quite help but sneak a glance up at the golden ornament as she held it in her hands for what might be the very last time. The headpiece was beautiful in spite of its age, in spite of the myriad of tiny scratches marring its surface. Held at just the right angle, its mirrored surface reflected the blinding power of their divine ancestor high overhead, lighting up the garden as if it were a true flame in its own right. A moment later, guilt struck her, and she forced her eyes back down. This was not her decision to make, and she ought not to attempt to influence it unduly.

“You offer me that crown, but you still want it,” his voice was somber, subdued. “Don’t you?”

“…Yes,” Ursa admitted, unable to quite meet his eyes at that moment. “I think I could do a lot of good with it, and that Zuko will make a fine Fire Lord when he grows old enough. But,” here she forced her gaze upwards, “I will not spit on the grave of your martyred son by keeping it from you,” she pushed it closer. “If you wish it, reclaim what is yours.”

It was true, of course, that in spite of all the dangers and pressures that came with the post, she still rather preferred being on top of the social order to everything that had come before. Finally having the true power, the power to do the good for her family that she’d been denied for over a decade of marriage to Ozai was deeply liberating. Not to mention the opportunity to oversee the completion of their nation’s grand endeavor herself was an unexpected but very great honor. But the power and honor weren’t worth exploiting the treacherous murder of a valiant and worthy prince and the ruin of their great siege. Weren’t worth risking a true split in the Fire Nation. Weren’t worth the potential to make the Dragon of the West into the enemy of her children.

“…Will you have it from me, General Iroh?” the Fire Lady asked quietly, closing her eyes one last time and sinking low.

There was another prolonged period of silence. To her ears, the remaining birds ceased to chirp, the insects ceased to buzz, the koi in their watery home fell silent. Even the gentle autumn breeze tapered off. Though the two of them were the only ones present in the walled garden, it seemed to the Fire Lady as though all the world waited with bated breath.

“…No,” Iroh said at last.

Ursa’s eyelids fluttered, and then her eyes wandered up a little. “No?”

“I do not want it,” he shook his head and looked down. “Not after all that has happened. I am in no fit state to lead anyone.”

“Are you certain?” Ursa asked. “You’ve spent decades as the Crown Prince, preparing to take up your father’s crown. Is there nothing left of that desire in you?”

“Perhaps one day I will be able to laugh at that,” Iroh said flatly. “No, Lady Ursa, I feel no such pull. Merely the weight of my age and then some,” he sighed wearily. “When things have calmed down, I would prefer a quiet retirement, perhaps to travel for a season. There are… places I would like to visit.”

“You desire to see the length and breadth of the empire?”

“And beyond.”

“And you would rather undertake such a journey than become Fire Lord?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Lady Ursa, I simply do not need the burden of deciding the whole nation’s future. Speaking quite honestly, even if I desired it, I doubt I could bear it for very long.”

“I see,” she nodded slowly. “I certainly will not stand in the way of your retirement. You have more than earned it.”

“Do not speak of what I have earned. I fear our opinions on that cannot be reconciled.”

“As you say,” she replied. “Then I suppose that the present arrangement will continue.”

“For what it is worth, Lady Ursa,” Iroh wiped his cheek with one sleeve. “I do think that it is for the best if the crown for a new era goes to someone less… weighted down by the past.”

“Your nephew inheriting meets with your approval?”

He paused, then nodded once back at her.

“As you will it,” she bowed her head respectfully one more time, before resuming her full height. “I thank you for all that you have done for our family and our nation, General Iroh.”

“Mmm,” he sounded indifferent.

“So, if you will not replace me,” Ursa said, slowly replacing the crown in her topknot. “Then I ask you: will you help me instead?”

With visible effort, her marital brother forced himself to meet her gaze. “What do you ask me to do?”

The Fire Lady breathed a small sigh of relief.

Chapter Text

Liu Lai was many things. A scion of an ancient and respectable house with a long and proud military tradition, himself the father of three sons serving as officers in the Fire Army and Navy and a daughter who was married to one. A veteran of battles both numerous and vicious, with a long and jagged scar running down the side of his neck to prove it. A well-connected political operator, who had purloined his long military career into a successful rise in the Ministry of War, his term as Sub-Minster of Allotment ending in a comfortable retirement little more than a year before. And, of course, a man who retained many contacts, family members, and old friends scattered through the military and the ministries, among whom his name still carried quite a bit of weight. It was little surprise to Liu, therefore, when General Iroh himself extended him an invitation to meet, one on one, in a private wing of the palace only days after his return to the caldera.

What was a surprise was the condition in which he found his long-time commander and liege.

Even here, even in in the beating heart of the palace, even well-rested, well-groomed, hair oiled, and topknot professionally done, swathed in the rich crimson formal robes that befitting his station, it was impossible but to see that General Iroh had broken. For a man like Liu, who had seen the legendary Dragon in his prime many times, had stood alongside him in his command tent and fought at his side in numerous battles, the difference was as plain as that between a bonfire and cold ashes.

It was in the way he spoke, his voice low and utterly bereft of the burning passion and battle hunger that had once defined it. It was in the way he moved, slowly and wearily, as though each tiny gesture was a burden to bear rather than the exuberant expression of inner life that it had once been. It was in the way his arms dangled limply at his side, a lifetime of court protocol forgotten in the throes of a grief and pain unimaginable to most. But most of all, it was in his dead, hollow eyes. Liu spent a good deal of time only half paying attention to his lord’s listless formal greeting, spent what seemed to him an agonizingly long time staring straight into the prince’s deep amber eyes as he spoke, searching for something, anything, that hinted that the bold, inspiring commander that he had known still existed somewhere in there. He found nothing.

“I’ve no wish to draw this out beyond its time,” General Iroh said, rather bluntly and in a low voice, once the ceremonial niceties had been done away with. “I know that has been some contentiousness about the issue of succession.”

That’s… understating it, Liu thought.

“I asked you here because I know you, Liu,” the old general said solemnly. “I know that you know people, and I know how you, know how they, must feel about the sudden change.”

“…Guilty as charged,” he admitted, after checking to make they were truly alone.

“Mmm,” his voice remained low, lifeless. “Then, for the sake of the Fire Nation, for the sake of the old times we had together, I ask you to listen to what I have to say.”

Liu leaned forward a little on his kneeling cushion, almost in spite of himself.

“I must ask that, whatever your feelings, you accept my father’s decision, as I have.”

The veteran’s eyes fell a little. Some part of him had known that this was coming from the moment he laid eyes on his old commander, but it still hurt to hear him say it.

“I want no strife within the Fire Nation,” Iroh went on, his voice still as cold as the grave. “I want to be no part of division among my people, no cause of bitterness between brothers. I want there to…” here is voice audibly wavered, cracking just a little before managing to continue, “there to be no more bloodshed amongst my family.”

Here Iroh squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving in a soundless sob. If there were no tears on his face, Liu supposed it was only because he had long since run out of them.

Eventually his general was able to collect himself enough to continue. “I want unity between us all, even now. Especially now. Do you understand, old friend?”

Slowly, solemnly, Liu Lai lowered his head just a fraction.

“So, whatever you might have thought about doing, Liu,” Iroh said, his voice once again soft, grave, but now sounded almost pleading. “Don’t.”

“Such wonders you have wrought,” said Prince Ozai to his wife, “oh great and mighty Fire Lady.”

The two of them were alone together in the throne room. Ursa sat regally atop the Dragon Throne, before which her husband offered a mock bow at the waist, his golden eyes never breaking contact with hers, his smirk never leaving his face. For her own part the regent pushed hard, earnestly willing the wall of flames before her to rise higher, to wipe away the vision before her, but to no avail. If anything, they only seemed to gutter lower.

“Truly, Ursa, I’m impressed,” Ozai continued as he resumed his full height, hands open and arms spread, looking around as if taking in the great hall for the first time. “In a single night you took for yourself everything I had desired since I was a boy. A lowly provincial girl, barely a firebender, mere breeding stock for the Royal House, and you’ve played us all for fools.” He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “The sages, the army, the people, Fire Lord Azulon, myself…” here his smirk grew wider, “and now my poor, pathetic, deluded husk of a brother. Truly, my dear, I couldn’t have a done a better job of it myself.”

“I am nothing like you,” Ursa hissed venomously, her voice echoing throughout the throne room, impossibly loud. “I undid your schemes. I avenged your betrayal. I undid you.”

“You did exactly as I would have done. You think because you destroyed one of my pawns that you’re different? Because you tell yourself it was to avenge my brother’s worthless brat, and not to further conceal your own crimes? You know as well as I that the fool colonel would have met the same fate had I come to the throne. You avenged nothing.”

The Fire Lady’s eyes wandered down, just a fraction.

“Ah, even the arch-deceiver cannot lie to herself about that,” the Fire Prince sounded distinctly pleased. “And now, the way you use my brother, do you imagine I would do otherwise in your position?”

“Use him?!” her brow creased defiantly. “I asked him to help me bring peace and stability back to the caldera, to save lives where you would taken them thoughtlessly for your own gain!”

“You have him quietly summoning his friends, his old military protégés, his contacts in the ministries, those noble houses that so long stood by Azulon’s ‘true heir’, making those pretty little speeches about ‘unity’ and ‘duty’, about brotherhood in the face of adversity,” Ozai laughed again. “As though he speaks any words but yours. As though he does anything more then erode any will to resist you.” His cruel smile somehow grew even crueler. “As though the sight of his condition won’t drive even more of them into the arms of their beloved Fire Lady. Clever, on so many levels,” he dipped his head briefly once more. “Tell me, my dear, when should I expect that you will send my brother to join me?”

“Silence!” Ursa roared at him.

The wall of flames before her suddenly blazed into true life, climbing like wildfire as they all but kissed the ceiling. The throne room itself shuddered with the sheer power of her voice, the very roots of the palace shaking perceptibly beneath their feet. And yet Ozai seemed anything but intimidated by the raw display of power, the aura of malevolent satisfaction about him seeming if anything to deepen. Though the fiery wall was now white hot, he passed through it utterly unscathed to stand atop the throne’s platform, where he towered about his still seated wife.

“You took his birthright from him. You took the only chance he will ever have to know the truth from him. Now you take his followers from him, and with his own voice no less! All to your own profit.”

“I offered the throne back to him, freely, as you would never have done,” she shot back, her face unwavering. “He refused.”

“You knew all along he wouldn’t take it,” her husband’s voice sounded half torn between accusation and admiration. “The loss of his pathetic spawn did to him what the loss of yours would have done to you. You knew this. In his moment of weakness, he could never accept the throne. You knew that as well, and you exploited it to make certain that he would surrender it to you forever. If he ever recovers, he will never feel it ‘honorable’ to reclaim it from his oh so selfless sister.”

“Lies,” she spat. “I knew no such thing.”

“The truth,” the countered, bending over to lean right into her face. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be hearing it from me.”

“You are a liar, a murderer, and a traitor,” she spat up at him. “Nothing you say can ever be trusted.”

Ozai chuckled. “And here I thought you were protesting that you weren’t like me.”

“I’m nothing like you,” she repeated, teeth bared.

“Aren’t you?” He shook his head and smiled at her. “Let us see. You a liar who deceives the nation you supposedly love, who deceives the broken brother you profess to care for, who deceives even the very worthless boy in whose name you profess to have done all of this. There is no greater act of treason than the murder of the Fire Lord. To that you add yet more blood with the death of the father of the boy you supposedly so cherish, and even the man who allowed him to inherit the Dragon Throne! Now to all this you add further conspiracy against the rightful heir… you’re more like me than you realize.” He was suddenly a little closer. “Or perhaps just more than you’d like to admit.”

“I did only what I had to protect the innocent child whom you would have murdered for the sake of your own ambition,” she declared with a boldness that sounded more forced than she would have liked. “I saved Zuko from you, and I will save Azula from your ghost.”

“Azula was nothing but the tool for my ambition,” he smiled. “As Zuko now is for yours.”

“My children will be healthy, happy, and whole – worthy bearers of Agni’s light. My world will be the dream of Sozin realized, a golden age for them to inherit. My nation will be harmonious, prosperous, and secure, a golden land ruled by the wise and just, reaching out to save the world from itself. While you…” here Ursa forced her face to return his smirk. “You be a bad dream, a passing mote of dust on the wind, mourned by none, remembered by none. You will be nothing.”

Her husband just laughed. “You don’t even try to deny you would use our children every bit as much as I did.”

“Enough!” she snapped, the blaze all around them surging once more. Spectral, half-formed hands of light and flame grasped blindly at Ozai’s regal robes. “I’ll hear no more accusations from the likes of you – loveless, faithless, honorless, powerless, and dead!”

The prince barely seemed to move, his body only twitching, and all around him the grasping hands tumbled to the ground, grey and dead. Tufts of ash coated the polished onyx floor at his feet, and his grin remained unwavering.

“You’re dead,” Ursa shook her head and repeated emphatically. “This isn’t real. You aren’t real.”

Ozai laughed, a harsh barking sound every bit as devoid of innocent joy as she remembered it. “Am I not?” He bent over and leaned in close. “Then why do I see such fear in your eyes?”

“I’m not afraid of you!” she bared her teeth, surging at last to her feet and finding that there was a shining blade, dripping with venom, clutched in her right hand. “I killed you once,” she took a single step forward, and the point of her dagger was underneath the point of his chin, “I’ll do it again.”

Her husband simply laughed in her face.

“If you weren’t afraid of me,” he only drew closer, practically daring her to strike him down again, “I wouldn’t be here.”

Ursa stabbed him.

Her gleaming dagger punched slid right into the bottom of Ozai’s jaw, sheering straight through his mocking grin, and only kept going. Though short only moments before, the razor-edged steel emerged bloodlessly from the top of the prince’s skull, grey mists wafting from its mirror-sheen surface. The tall man let out one final, almost muted chuckle, and then toppled backwards. Even as Ursa watched, his body seemed to slide effortlessly off the edges of the blade as if the metal were coated in oil. It tumbled onto nothing in particular, coming to a halt at seeming random, and the Fire Lady found herself staring down at it for a second time.

Avatar Roku’s granddaughter found her eyes peering down at the bloodless face of her own corpse.

She was pallid, her skin not merely the ever-fashionable moon pale that came from a life not lived laboring in the fields or harvesting the seas, but a full-on corpse grey. Her expression was slack, her once lustrous amber eyes reduced to a pale, milky sort of grey. Dust covered her faded crimson finery, and writhing worms could be seen chewing their way through the holes in the tattered garment. There was a disturbing wriggling underneath the skin of her face, and something black and chitinous with far too many legs could just barely be made out squirming within her partially opened mouth.

Ursa’s eyes shot open.

The Fire Lady found herself halfway sitting up in her sumptuous bed, a handful of its luxurious crimson silken sheets clutched tightly to her chest. The titanic bedchamber around her was almost eerily empty, devoid wholly of light and life. Cold sweat rolled down her face, chest, and arms, soaking her nightgown. She heard more than felt herself breathing heavily. Her amber eyes briefly, reflexively scanned the room, earnestly searching the darkness, but finding nothing. The Fire Nation’s ruler was alone.

Slowly, the noblewoman forced herself to take several deep breathes, trying to drown out the painful thumping of her own heart in her ears. With trembling, sweat-soaked hands, she forced herself to pull the blankets back up over herself as she sunk almost painfully back onto her pillow. It was several hours until dawn, but she would not find sleep again that night.

Azula ran.

She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was that she had to get somewhere, anywhere but here. The deserted hallways through which she sprinted were so darkened and gloomy as to be recognizable, devoid of all features save the claustrophobic walls. Her every footstep resounded like a dozen breaking vases on a hard stone floor, echoing wildly through the dim, confined space, giving her away.

Hot on her heels they came. Who they were she couldn’t have said, even if she had cared to think about it. They were a dark shade of grey, blending almost perfectly into the black of the corridors that enclosed her, wrapped in hoods and cloaks, faceless, ethereal as a morning mist, and largely devoid of anything but the vaguest of human shape. But the voids behind the face wraps where their eyes ought to be didn’t matter, their forms didn’t matter. All that mattered were the curved, gleaming silver blades clutched in their hands.

If the princess had been in any fit state to think about anything, she might have found the ever-shifting, endless maze of stretched corridors, sharp turns, and dead ends through which she sprinted unpleasantly familiar. As it was, she had no recollection of the many times that she had been here before. There was no past here, and no future. There was only the eternal present, where an army of faceless assassins hunted the last daughter of the royal house through an abyss beyond help and beyond hope. She did her best not to scream. She never quite succeeded.

Azula ran and ran and ran, with a tirelessness born of desperation and a speed from the all-consuming will to live. Behind her all the way were the whispered footsteps of her pursuers. Sometimes it was one, sometimes it was many. She glanced behind her and saw nothing but blackness and looked forwards again to be confronted with an intersection that was not a moment ago. There were more footsteps and she looked up, just in time to see another assailant spring from high atop the tiered ceiling, landing nimbly mere inches from her.

Reflexively, she thrust out her arms and threw fire in its face. The red-orange blaze flowed over the whole of its body like a rock being swallowed by a river. It reached out its arms and parted the sea of flame in a single broad stroke, emerging unblemished and whole. In the next instant the figure swung its wicked blade downwards, and Azula backpedaled frantically as it seemed to carve through the air itself, leaving shimmering distortions in its wake. The knife’s edge passed close to her face enough that for a split second she saw her own widened amber eyes reflected back in the polished metal. Then it struck the ground at her feet, and the floor beneath her cracked and groaned. The floor suddenly split open like one titanic maw, and pieces of the walls and ceiling all around them came crashing down to swallow the helpless princess whole.

The young girl tumbled into the void, hit her face on something, and then found herself sprawled out on her back. It was another hallway, this one even gloomier and more claustrophobically tight than before, barely tall enough for her to stand up in and so narrow it was squeezing against her shoulders. She pressed against the walls and found them as immovable as mountains. She hurled jets of flame in all directions and did nothing to light up the darkness. The roaring echo of firebending bounced wildly off the confined space, reaching an almost deafening crescendo as it gave away her location to all and sundry. Despite her own racket, the princess fond that she could hear the feather-light tread of her killers’ padded boots coming from ahead of her. And behind her. And above. And below.

She couldn’t cry for help. Begging was for the weak. Azula was not weak. Azula was not frightened.

Without wasting much time, the princess picked the direction with the least amount of apparent footsteps and bolted. She could barely see where she was going now, even once she lit up one of her hands her eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness more than a foot or two in front of her face. Not that there was much to see anyway, there was no décor and no color, only varying shades of grey and black everywhere her gaze fell. Even the fire in her hands appeared somehow duller than normal, almost lifeless.

As she went, Azula found that the little hallway grew more and more cramped, more and more like a tunnel as she went, narrow, irregular, and ever more all-enveloping. She couldn’t even stand at her full height as she ran, forced to bow down before the heavy press of the ceiling. There were a couple of twists and turns she didn’t quite remember taking, and more than once she tried to turn around only to find the space that she had just occupied was somehow even smaller than the one she was already standing in. And all the while the distant sound of soft boots on stone floors grew ever more audible.

Fear droved the princess further and further down the twisting network of lightless shafts. She had no idea where anything led, which branches went up and which went down or which way that she should be going. All she knew was that she didn’t want to die, and she would if they caught her. Time raced by. The footsteps grew closer. The entire space barely amounted to more than a crack in a wall now. Azula was forced to shuffle sideways in a passage too narrow even to admit the width of her shoulders even as she continued to duck her head.

Then there came a whisper on the wind, and she knew that she was no longer alone.

Azula could barely move her head to look, but she felt herself doing so anyway. The approaching figure was twice her size – no, three times – and walked completely unhindered by the tight confines. She scooted a few more inches, and then came to a point where she could move no further away from it. The princess squirmed desperately, trying with all her might to put more distance between them, but in vain. She couldn’t force herself one inch further from the assassin. She tried to lift her arms, to throw fire, to do something besides sit there and wait to be killed but found immediately that that was of no more use than trying to run. She discovered to her mounting horror that her arms were pinned now completely to her sides, she was left unable to raise so much as a pinky finger in her own defense. She was wedged so tightly now that she couldn’t even move towards it to free herself.

The young princess wriggled and pushed with all her might, kicking and rolling desperately in a frantic bid to be free – but to no avail. The assassin sauntered almost casually towards where she lay caught in the space’s impossible vicegrip. She tried to kick at it directly, and the feeble sparks of flame that she managed to conjure died before making it an inch from her pointed boot. The approaching death then took another step and was directly before her.

Azula screamed. The grey cloaked figure raised its dagger – and a burst of fire consumed its head.

The apparition let out an unearthly wale as a brilliant orb of yellow and orange struck the back of the hooded, masked void where its face ought to have been. This time, the spectral assassin caught alight faster than charcoal soaked in oil. The flames spread effortlessly down its ethereal form, rushing down its body and into its mask, refusing to be hinder no matter how frantically it patted. The creature shrieked, writhing while it clutched at its head, as the fires reached their crescendo, a towering inferno of blinding golden light to put the sun itself to shame. An entire chorus of the same alien agony answered it from every direction. The trapped princess shielded her eyes with the hands she hadn’t been able to move a second earlier and felt no heat.

After a few seconds, the screaming died away, and the blaze in front of her guttered down. A breeze wafted between her fingers, and she smelt ashes. When she lowered her arms and risked a peek, the young princess could vaguely make out a new figure in the distance, long-haired and dressed in ornate, regal crimson robes.

“…Mom?” Azula managed, blinking, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve, then managing to look up. “Dad!”

Before her stood Ozai as he could have been, as he ought to have been. Tall, strong, and proud as she remembered him, the former prince now wore the robes of a proper Fire Lord, the golden headpiece shining triumphantly atop his head. The confined space around her was already losing its grip, the heavy walls becoming more and more ethereal with each passing second. The princess wiggled, and swiftly found herself able to move once again.

“You’re here!” she raced directly towards her father, heedless of the abyss around them. “You’re alive!”

The sheer rapturous sense of relief was like nothing else she could ever remember feeling. Finally, the wait was over. Her patience, her loyalty, her faith was rewarded! Father was here. Mother and her scoldings would be put in her place, little Zuzu ground beneath her heel once again! The world would right itself at last!

“For a moment only, my dear,” Ozai replied.

The girl froze. “W-What?”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Surely, Azula, you are too intelligent to mistake all of this for reality?”

If none of this was real, if the tunnels and assassins and fire and Dad were fakes, then this could only be… a dream? This was all a dream?! Then Father really was still... still…

“R-Right,” she forced herself to say as she felt her hopes shatter, taking a few steps forward and staring up at him. “Of course, you’re right.”

“Good girl,” Ozai smiled faintly at her.

For a little while, Azula just stared at him. The man who had raised her, who had taught her all that she knew, who had given her the mastery of her household and would have given her mastery of the world stood before her, so close and yet so far. She saw the man in whom she had pinned all her hopes before having them dashed, dangled cruelly in front of her for just a moment and then immediately snatched away again. She was seeing him now as he should have been and yet never could be. She wanted to pout, maybe to scream. This wasn’t fair. It was like some sort of sick cosmic joke – she deserved to have Father back, and the universe was mocking her with the injustice of it.

“Why are you here?” the princess eventually managed to get out.

“Because you needed me,” he said simply.

“I… I… yes,” she admitted. “I need you. You left me too young!”

“No, I did not,” he frowned at her, and his voice became hard. “You have everything that you need. I gave you everything that you need.”

She flinched.

“All that you need is to remember,” he continued. “Remember who you truly are.”

“Who I am?”

“I need not remind you of what you are destined to be, Azula. I will tell you nothing that you do not already know.”

“…Your true heir,” she ultimately concluded.

“Now and always,” he confirmed. “You were always the only one strong enough to take my place. Not your feeble failure of a brother, and certainly not the soft, simpering coward of a woman who fears your potential so. You are meant to eclipse them both, and in their heart of hearts they know it.”

“But no one else sees it that way,” she confessed. “Everyone thinks Zuko is your successor, just because he was born first. What good is it being the rightful heir if no one else in the country thinks you are?”

“And you think that matters? That the opinions of inferiors are what makes one worthy of the crown?”

“…No.”

“That’s right. Remember what I always taught you.”

“The mantle of Fire Lord isn’t something that can be passed along just by order of birth,” she recited. “It rightfully goes to the one that shows themselves worthy with power and cunning. Otherwise, the dynasty fails, the weak and unfit are given to lead, and the nation rots from its heart.”

“So then,” Father said, “You know what you have to do.”

“Take my rightful place.”

Ozai’s only answer was a slight, familiar smirk.

“But how?” she protested. “I’m not strong enough.” It was painful to admit, but it wasn’t as though she could pretend otherwise. “You were stronger than me, and you didn’t make it. Mom controls everything now. You know Uncle is a quitter and a loser, he’s just given up. He’ll turn over his entire power base to her the moment she asks, and there’ll be no one left to contest her spot on the throne. In a few years she’ll just hand everything to Zuko because he’s her good child,” the girl all but spat the word. “She’ll just use her power lock me out of everything worthwhile. All I’ll ever get is time wasting art classes, some political marriage a thousand miles from the capital, and more guards spying on my every move!”

Stone-faced once more, the dead man gave her no answer.

“And I can’t even grow to become the firebender I could be! The one you would have made me! She decides how much training I can get, and I can’t do anything about it.” The princess shook her head. “I’ll never be even as strong as you were if she keeps treating me like a regular bending student, and you know she always will. She’ll hold me back forever to keep her little Zuzu from being outshined!”

“I’m surprised at you,” her father sounded disappointed. “Despairing talk of failure is in your brother’s nature, not yours.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” she implored. “Tell me!”

“Tell yourself,” he commanded, in a voice that brooked no opposition.

Azula did as she was bid, putting her mind to the problem for an indeterminate amount of time. Such mundane considerations meant little here.

“If I ever want to slip Mom’s leash… to build a power base of my own someday… to become Fire Lord someday, I need to… need to prove myself superior,” she eventually mused. “Someone strong and fearsome, like you were. Someone for people to worship and fear. More powerful than Zuko, worthier than Zuko. To do that, I’ll need… something beyond just the normal firebending I’m getting.”

“That’s a good girl,” he leaned in over her, almost conspiratorially. “And you know what that something is.”

She blinked. “I do?”

“Of course you do.”

The princess considered it, and her eyes widened. “You mean that secret you promised to teach me someday?”

“Go on.”

“The ultimate firebending technique? The… cold fire?”

“Correct, my dear,” he smiled down as he had in life. “As always.”

Azula couldn’t help but briefly preen, though it wasn’t long before logic butted its unwelcome way in. “But how can I learn that now?” she asked. “You’re… gone. None of the teachers Mom has me studying with know a thing about it. They probably barely know it exists!”

Ozai frowned at her. “Azula, you know better than to ask senseless questions.”

The girl flinched.

“You already have everything you need. You tell me the answer.”

The princess looked down into the black abyss at their feet, one small hand on her chin, and thought about it. Before his death, Ozai had shared with her that the cold fire was a secret reserved exclusively for the royal family, a powerful weapon to help awe the masses and ensure their supremacy against all potential challengers. No one outside that favored circle would have any knowledge of the techniques required. Grandfather had known it, but he was dead. Father had known it, but he was dead. And Mother certainly didn’t know it. That left only one candidate.

“Uncle,” Azula deduced. “Uncle Iroh could teach me lightning.”

“Very good,” the proud smile on Ozai’s stern face looked just as she remembered it.

“But Uncle doesn’t like me, and he knows I don’t like him!” she protested once again. “He likes Zuko better, just like Mom. How am I supposed to get him to teach me something so powerful?”

“My brother is a weak-minded fool. And you are a true prodigy, Azula,” he said to her. “You will find a way.”

Her gaze wavered. “But I-”

In the brief second that she had looked down, Ozai had already turned his back on her, his visage no longer visible. He wasn’t visibly moving, yet the back of his regal robes seemed to grow more distant and vaguer in the blackness with every passing second.

“Wait!” Azula called out, right hand outstretched as she began to run after him. “Dad! Come back! I still need you!”

If Ozai heard her, he gave no reply, merely continuing his motionless motion into the endless night that surrounded them. Her young legs broke into a sprint against the ground that wasn’t there, yet her father grew no closer for all that she moved with the speed of the wind. The princess pushed on and on for what felt like an eternity, chasing after the lone light in her ever-darkening world.

“Don’t leave me!” she screamed, clutching desperately for the fading image of her father. “Don’t leave me alone!”

There was no reply. A moment later, there was no more light. She was on her own.

How long she wandered there, crying out amongst the endless void for someone who had no more ears to hear, the little girl did not know. Could not know. Time did not really exist here in any fashion she could perceive. But there was nothing else to do. There was no one else she could call for. She ran tirelessly through the unending gloom as she had so many nights before, stumbling, searching, looking hungrily for some hint of the path ahead and finding none. Then, with no warning whatsoever, the entire world around her grew blurry and faint. Blackness dissolved in greyness, greyness into shining white, and then… and then…

Azula’s eyes abruptly fluttered open as her inner fire reacted to the first rays of daybreak gently falling on her immaculate skin. The glow of the sun’s light peeked in through a crack in the shudders and curtains, falling right across her forehead. The little prodigy blinked a few times, yawned once, and then stretched her arms. As she slowly sat up against the titanic pillow of her luxuriant palace bed, the princess’ awakening mind gradually formed a piecemeal recollection of her dreams. Eventually, a small smile tugged at the edge of her lips.

Maybe Uncle could be good for something after all.

“I propose,” General Jianjun said, looming over the vast map in the center of the throne room. “That by the start of the campaigning season, we transfer at least a hundred thousand men from the former Army of Ba Sing Se to the south and recommence our previous strategy of defeat in detail. We can continue to leverage our superior mobility and coordination to crush each province, city, and fortress one by one. There are only a few significant prizes left standing between our forces and total effective domination of the southern continent. Tie Shan, Jingde, Dong Zuanshi, and of course, Omashu.”

“And what of the Earth Kingdom’s capital?” asked General Bujing.

“It seems that it has been decided,” Jianjun replied, glacing briefly towards the throne, “to leave the Impenetrable City itself for the day of Sozin’s Comet, so let us commit to that. No wall can hope to stand against our might when Agni’s greatest gift returns to us. In the meantime, come the spring, at least forty thousand of the northern army we don’t detach for the southern campaign should surge back across the lake. General Iroh’s campaign swept away every town and fortification between the shores and the wall. We can still make use of those gains. Between the efforts to repair their walls and the mauling their own forces took in the siege, the Earth Kingdom won’t have had the time or manpower to establish a significant military presence outside Ba Sing Se itself. We can repair and rework the overrun fortress network into a permanent Fire Nation presence on the eastern shore. Between that and the navy’s ongoing efforts, we can ensure that Ba Sing Se remains, if not entirely besieged, then utterly isolated and impotent to affect the war elsewhere.”

“Since Dong Zuanshi is the closest of the remaining major settlements to one of our major port facilities, I propose the spring offensive begin here,” Jianjun reached out with a moving rod, pushing carved red stone figures off of a coastal stronghold. “An immediate full-scale frontal assault, with at least forty thousand men and three armored divisions. A swift and decisive blow, one fit to demonstrate to the dirt eaters that one setback has cost the Fire Nation none of its fighting spirit.”

From where she sat, perched on the Dragon Throne behind a low wall of yellow flames, Ursa had to consciously keep a glimmer of uncertainty from disrupting her stoic expression. Though the general’s words were technically correct, it seemed to her that he was not quite doing the situation justice. The march from even the closest port to the lakeside city of Dong Zuanshi was well over ninety miles overland by the map’s scale, taking their army through dense forests and over a small mountain range. Almost none of that territory was marked in the reassuring crimson shade of Fire Nation colonial control, and there were no major nearby rivers to permit the navy to offer any substantial degree of support. Supply, let alone reinforcements, would be difficult to come by. It was easy to imagine their army being cut off and surrounded amidst all that mass of hostile green.

“Meanwhile, to the north,” the general continued, moving more figures down from fortifications on the southern shore of Full Moon Bay. “A further thirty thousand men should be assigned to penetrate into the mountains and seize Tie Shan. Lord Muchen’s abode only barely withstood the last assault four years ago, and that was before his great ‘relief’ of Ba Sing Se.”

A wave of light chuckles passed through the general staff at the mention of that famous disaster. Over a year into General Iroh’s siege, the young and inexperienced inheritor of that great mountain city had sent out a substantial part of his army in some deluded belief that his forces could somehow break the encirclement of the Earth Kingdom’s capital and thereby win him great glory. In reality, the army’s scouts had caught wind of the march almost as soon as it had entered the mountain passes. The navy had been waiting just downstream from the Earth Army’s chosen river crossing. More than two thirds of Lord Muchen’s army had been scattered or slain without getting within a hundred miles of his intended destination, and all for a remarkably light cost in Fire Nation lives.

“We can take it easily enough this spring, and in doing so complete Omashu’s strategic isolation from Ba Sing Se,” General Jianjun went on, folding his arms behind his back. “That should effectively neutralize the possibility of any effective offensive actions out of the Mad King’s city. Jingde is already cut off by our southern colonies and the Si Wong Desert – better saved for a later campaign.”

“And what of the remaining reinforcements?” Admiral Chan asked, frowning slightly. “What are they to be doing?”

“Occupation duty,” Jianjun answered. “As always, there are a dozen or more petty local rebellions in the areas adjacent to the newer colonies, those that have not yet learned adequate respect for our army.” He gestured at one location with his rod, then another, then a third, then a fourth, though there were no green stone figures to represent any formal Earth Kingdom forces in the indicated areas. “They will have to be dealt with eventually, and during a period of broader strategic consolidation and mopping up seemed a fortuitous time. We can easily split these divisions into brigades and battalions capable of occupying the trouble spots for a few months while the most stubborn resistance is rooted out.”

“These rebellions,” Ursa raised her voice, drawing her general staff’s eyes to the throne. “What do we know of them? How many are they?”

“You can never really tell with the dirt rabble,” Bujing’s nostrils flared, “Angry peasants, bandits, deserted soldiers, backwoods cults worshipping strange spirts… they all emerge to challenge the Fire Army from time to time in areas not subdued long or thoroughly enough, and scatter again just as easily. Ten to twenty thousand men at ‘arms’ come the spring would not be unusual. Perhaps more, considering the relatively low troop levels in the area for the past two years.”

Though she kept her gasp from emerging, the reigning regent’s eyes did widen noticeably. Two or more entire divisions worth of troops simply appearing out of nowhere, right next to colonies defended by formations that were mere fractions of that number, and no one saw this as anything worthy of note? No one had seen fit to make mention of this to their Fire Lady? There were tens of thousands of people, her people, just sitting there next to rebellions the size of entire army divisions and no one had even bothered to represent them on a map?!

“But it is of no strategic concern,” the officer continued speaking. “They are nothing more than angry farmers with cast-iron sickles, or petty bandits with hunting bows and stolen spears. They ambush traders, chase lone squads out of isolated villages, or skirmish with our scouts in the woods. They are never a match for a properly equipped modern army in open battle. We hunt down and burn a few of them out, and the rest scatter to the winds or return quietly to their fields. Perhaps in a few years some of the survivors might work up the courage to do it again, until they have experienced the throne’s wrath enough times to learn to keep their heads down.” He shrugged indifferently. “It is an ordinary and expected part of the process of conquest. It makes little real difference to our broader campaigns.”

Thirty thousand of the Fire Army’s troops being diverted to deal with it says otherwise, the regent thought to herself, frowning. It seemed like such a massive drain on their available manpower. Even such a relative amateur as herself knew the smaller Fire Nation didn’t have the numbers to permanently occupy every last little village even across the vast swathes of the Earth Kingdom continent that they had already conquered. Most of those troops would have to be pulled out eventually if they were to continue offensive operations, and what then?

“Are these rebels likely to move south, towards the coast?” she asked her commanders. “Assault the colonies in force? The sheer numbers you speak of…”

“They won’t,” General Ten spoke up to defend his colleague. “They never do. Their only concern is what is happening in their own immediate surroundings, their only leadership petty lords and village chiefs. There may well be ten thousand men under arms, but they are a thousand tiny bands spread across hundreds of miles. Destroy only a handful and the rest will do no more than give our troops sullen glances as they occupy the affected regions to hunt for malcontents, or march through them towards more important objectives.”

“It occurs to me,” Ursa said, as her eyes surveyed the vast map, taking in the proposed troop movements, “That if we advance on Dong Zuanshi and Tie Shan, this same problem is likely to manifest, in even greater magnitude.” Concealed inside the long, flowing sleeves of her formal robes, her hands began to curl in on themselves, then open again. “Between the vast distance inland with the former, and the mountains surrounding the latter, both would be ideal places for such irregular forces to fall on our troops from all sides.” She looked over at Jianjun specifically. “Especially if, as you advocate, our advance is swift and piercing instead of slow and meticulous. The swiftest roads are likely to mean the narrowest lines of actual control.” She glanced again at the war map, which showed only a few dozen of the largest settlements. “Do we even know where such local rebellions are likely to spring up in those areas?”

“My lady,” General Ten answered slowly, at least making some effort to seem deferential. “There are of course hundreds of tiny unnamed villages scattered throughout the wilderness, barely recorded at all. And there exists a further smattering of mid-sized towns, smaller fortresses and garrison camps, and the like. But those are secondary targets, for local commanders to handle at their discretion. We must keep our eyes on the broader strategic picture. In the grand scheme of things, Lady Ursa, they simply aren’t important enough to discuss here. They lack the coordination for large-scale counteroffensive actions. Take these cities, and the area is, for all intents and purposes, ours. Smaller settlements can be seized and occupied as needed.”

“The Earth Kingdom is heavily rural,” Ursa said, recalling one of the many intelligence reports that she had read. “Our best estimates put the non-urban population, outside of Ba Sing Se, at more than nine parts in ten.” She frowned slightly. “Doesn’t it concern us that there exists a substantial population base of indeterminate size and location amidst the territory that we hope to conquer? There could be entire armies’ worth of angry, military-aged men sitting within a stone’s throw of our advances.”

“National feeling among the Earth Kingdom peasantry is thin on the ground at the best of times,” the old soldier waved a hand dismissively. “They haven’t managed a truly unified response since the first two decades of the war. The army has been taking on one province, one city, one tiny kingdom within a kingdom after another, barely communicating with one another, let alone coordinating. There’s no reason to suppose that these little outposts will suddenly unify into a grand army to match our own when we move in.”

And, just like that, Ursa had an idea. The Fire Lady might not know much about winning a battle, but she knew more than a little about winning a man’s confidence.

“What if we played them off against one another?” Ursa asked.

Jianjun raised an eyebrow. “Your majesty?”

“What if we were to play them off against each other?”

“I hear you, Lady Ursa,” General Ten frowned a little. “But what exactly do you have in mind?”

“All that manpower, all those young men wasting their lives fighting against us,” Ursa looked thoughtful. “What if they were to fight for us instead?”

There was, for a moment, silence throughout the throne room. The war council stared up at their regent as one, none bold enough to give voice to what they were surely all thinking. What right had this inexperienced woman, this courtier, this lifelong civilian to come in this meeting and propose such a bizarre concept to them?

“If we take Dong Zuanshi and Tie Shan, we will have to deal with the surrounding countryside sooner or later,” she remarked, her words backdropped by an increased crackling of the soft yellow flames. “For our garrisons there to be secure, they will have to march out and seize any strongholds of resistance. But if we can isolate them, offer the local leadership favorable terms in exchange for fighting alongside our armies instead…” she paused. “I’m sure that only the most besieged and desperate would agree to this the first time, and some will prefer to fight to the bitter end. But even if only one or two of them take the offer, every battle we can avoid will save us men and material and supplement our forces with theirs.”

“You would trust Earth Kingdom defectors alongside our own troops?” Ten’s frown deepened. “Pardon me for saying this, my lady, but that sounds unwise.”

Ursa frowned a little as she thought. “What I am considering would only be small local forces, and only against other low value targets in the immediate area, at least at first,” she eventually said. “Once they’ve bloodied their blades alongside the Fire Army, even in a small way, they will have attached their personal honor and reputation to our success. There will be no going back. But once they begin to taste the fruits of cooperation with us, will they even want to? As you say, after all, they only care about what is going on in their immediate area.”

There was no immediate answer this time, the men of the Fire Lady’s war council universally staring at their regent with varying frowns or skeptical expressions.

“You’ve said it yourself,” Ursa forced herself to push boldly onwards, knowing that to back down meekly would be to kill what little respect these men had for her. “National feeling in the Earth Kingdom is thin on the ground at the best of times. How many men really fight for the distant throne in Ba Sing Se, and how many for their villages, their homes, their families, their immediate lords? What does their king offer their little towns that we cannot? Taxation to upkeep the walls he cowers behind? Conscription into a war they all know they are bound to lose?”

Ursa was pleased to see at least a slight hint of approval pass the collected officers’ faces at the reminder of the enemy kingdom’s inferiority.

“If this works, then over time we can shift a significant portion of the burdens of occupation onto allied local forces, freeing up more of our own army to pursue broader strategic objectives,” she noted. “Accelerate the pace of our conquest.”

“My lady, these are all very general ideas,” General Akio said to her in a carefully respectful, yet skeptical tone. “If we’re to consider incorporating such things into our nation’s broader strategy, we would need a more specific policy.”

“You’re right, of course,” Ursa nodded at him, then lowered her voice a pitch. “I believe that we should start with, and focus most of our efforts on, the provincial nobility. The local lords, village chiefs, and petty kings. The natural leaders that come to the fore, in such a poorly managed kingdom as the one we face. Who among us can doubt that it is by their will, and not that of Ba Sing Se, that most of the resistance we face yet endures?”

There was a general, albeit grudging, round of nods at that. Such had been the consensus of Fire Nation military intelligence for some decades at this point. Centralized coordination across the vast Earth Kingdom was very sparse, and quite spotty. General Iroh’s recent elimination of all the military outposts in the immediate vicinity of Ba Sing Se had doubtlessly only exacerbated the issue.

“Thus, we would be well-served to expend effort wearing down that will. How many truly fight out of sheer love of the Earth King whom they have never met and his petty bureaucrats who arrive once a year to demand taxes or conscripts, and how many simply for fear of what we will do to their villages, their friends, their neighbors, if we should be victorious? You all know the lies they spread about Sozin’s victory over the Air Nomad Army.”

Another round of nods from the generals and admirals. The shamelessness of enemy propaganda knew no bounds.

“We can ease their fears,” Ursa continued. “If we simply offer them a better arrangement than that which they have with the coward on the Badgermole Throne. I propose that we allow them the chance to keep what they have. Those provincial nobles, those magnates, those potentates who swear themselves to Dragon Throne instead, who enforce its laws faithfully within their territory and pay due taxes of men and material, will not be deposed. Their lands will not be occupied by the Fire Army. Their people will be accorded the full rights of colonials, open to our trade and defended by the most powerful army in the world.”

She could see the skepticism still writ large across the faces of the assembled officers. “In return for such beneficence, it will fall on such men to secure and patrol their territories, to deliver up any fugitives attempting to hide there, and to maintain their local forces with our support. Support, I might add, which can easily be much greater than anything Ba Sing Se has ever provided to most of them.”

“And what then of those who refuse this offer?” Admiral Kaito asked.

“For those of the nobility who refuse to fight with us and survive, we strip them of all their lands, their wealth, and their titles, to be given to our soldiers and colonists, or those locals who prove more cooperative. The deposed and their children will serve the Dragon Throne as simple laborers all the days of their lives, tilling the land or working our machines. Everything they own will become property of the Fire Nation, and they will be removed far from their ancestral lands. Those who are earthbenders will have to be subject to the usual containment protocols.” Ursa’s tone was serious. “They can choose to cooperate with us, or to see their households lose everything to those who do.”

“My lady, you can’t think that such men will prove loyal to you,” Kaito said, in a calculated way that was just short of being dismissive. “Such allegiance as we would gain would be mercenary at best, and more probably used as a front by many. Pledging allegiance by day, sheltering all manner of rebels and bandits and traitors by night. Without the Fire Army to watch over their every move…”

A good queen regent, Ursa felt, was much like a good mother to her nation. And a good mother certainly knew when unruly children needed discipline.

“Ah,” she allowed herself a small smile, “but there are a number of advantages to be gained. Firstly, not only have any such takers made themselves look untrustworthy to those of their fellows too blind to see the natural course of things, hampering their ability to work together against us, they have also taken personal responsibility for securing their territory on the throne’s behalf. Should they fail to do so, then obviously they will face the same penalties as would apply to any such governor in the Fire Nation. With the great cities firmly in our direct grasp, if such men wish to retain what land and status they have, they will have no choice but to clamp down on any would-be rebellious activities in their territories. Or…” here her smile became slightly devious, “they will find themselves in the position of having to invite the Fire Army to occupy the area.”

Below, General Ten was stroking his styled, pointed beard. One other man was at least looking thoughtful.

“Further, it is only fitting that the children of the greatest of these new Fire Nation provincial nobility should receive a proper Fire Nation education,” the Fire Lady declared. “Anyone swearing loyalty to the Dragon Throne cannot possibly then turn around and object to his sons and daughters going to the colonies or crossing the sea to be taught in vastly superior schools, in a location much further removed from war and hardship. If they are disloyal, if they mean to play us false, then this measure will make it very plain, very quickly.” She turned to directly address Kaito. “So, Admiral, while you are correct that the allegiance of the first generation of such men is likely to be quite mercenary, I believe that that of the second generation need not be.” She smiled again. “Have we not raised entire divisions of troops from the colonies, from families once of Earth Kingdom blood? The superiority of the Fire Nation way of life is self-evident, to those not too blinkered by old prejudices to look honestly. Our experiments in the north have proven this beyond any doubt.”

“That much… is true,” Admiral Bohai acknowledged, somewhat slowly. “Many naval crews in the Northern Fleet are drawn from families of such colonial stock.”

“Think of it from the perspective of a common soldier, or even a provincial noble. Why should they fight for distant, uncaring Ba Sing Se, which has horded the wealth of the entire Earth Kingdom behind its walls for generations, leaving the other cities and hinterlands to eek out a living on its scraps? Why not fight instead for the nation that can promise you and your kin food and medicine, high culture, wealth and technology? Why die in a doomed holding action for a coward hiding behind his walls when you can fight for the winning side, and join the Fire Nation in its prosperity? What has the Earth King done for any of them, that they owe him such fealty?”

“And what we will ask for in return is not that they fight a doomed battle to the death against a vastly superior foe for the comfort and safety of Ba Sing Se,” she told them. “Nor that they march a thousand miles over land and sea to attack strange lands on our behalf. All we desire from them is that they assist us in bringing peace to their own immediate surroundings, a peace that they will benefit from as well.” She allowed herself a moment’s pause. “I cannot imagine that swarms of bandits and deserters are terribly discriminate in their targets.”

“The strategy that you propose is… novel, your majesty,” Jianjun said, choosing his words with audible care. “How is it that you would have us incorporate this idea into our broader war aims for the year?”

“The direct seizure of the great cities by the Fire Army is still obviously necessary, to show the populace our military superiority and the inevitability of our victory. But those towns and villages we’ve mentioned, the many outposts and smaller garrisons,” she answered, “they seem like an ideal place to start. Easily isolated from one another. Cutting some of those that resist off and making a few offers here and there over the summer, once Dong Zuanshi and Tie Shan are seized, wouldn’t pose the army much difficulty, would it?”

“If we proceed with the plan to shift a hundred thousand more troops south? Hardly.”

“And the thirty thousand men you have reserved for occupation duties closer to the colonies, surely they could at last attempt to make such agreements with those potentates and settlements in the area that prove to be less than fanatical?”

“I… suppose it is not outside the scope of possibility.”

“If it doesn’t work, nothing is lost, and we proceed as originally planned. But if it does…” her eyes wandered south, and she eyed Jingde meaningfully. “Perhaps the campaigning season might last a little longer than we initially anticipate.”

As she received the first of what she reckoned to be cautious, but genuine nods, the Fire Lady allowed herself a brief smile.

Caldera City was not a place especially known for its nightlife. The natural proclivity of firebenders was to wane as the sun fell, and their uncontested predominance over the nation’s culture stretched back as far as any could remember. Markets closed, government offices emptied out, restaurants shuttered themselves, and even the Fire Sages’ sacred temple closed its doors. Nobles and their servants alike retreated to their fine villas, leaving the streets empty of all save the clockwork patrols of lantern-bearing soldiers. All of which suited Xi quite nicely.

As Minister of Domestic Affairs, the white-haired elderly bureaucrat was perfectly within his rights to access any and all of the soldiers’ patrol routes and schedules, or even alter them to his liking. Even if he had lacked such an advantage, a dirty little secret was that the quality of the Domestic Forces had been on the decline for some time, and even those illustrious battalions assigned to the pride of place in the capital were far from immune. Xi was well past his eightieth year, and even he had to think back to his childhood to remember when Caldera had been patrolled exclusively by firebenders of the finest caliber, before the recently ascended Azulon had made the pragmatic decision that such warriors were of more use on the front line. Every year for many years the Fire Army and Fire Navy had poached the finest recruits for themselves, leaving the Domestic Forces with little but their dregs, along with whatever poor peasants and women could be whipped into a semblance of fighting shape. With his decades of experience moving surreptitiously around the city by night, Xi had little fear of being caught.

His destination was, on the surface of it, a fairly ordinary looking tea shop, its exterior tables already tucked away for the night and lanterns dimmed. A slight few raps on a side entrance brought a waiting, trusted serving girl to slide it almost seamlessly open. With little more than a glance and a nod, she led the minister through the back of the shop, shielded from the view of the few remaining customers, and to a quiet place nestled discreetly in the back. The old man watched in vague annoyance as the slight girl struggled for a moment to slide open the heavy, soundproofed metal door before eventually managing it.

The room inside, by choice, dimly lit and filled with thick clouds of scented smoke. Thick walls and limited ventilation left the room musty and warm even in late autumn, uncomfortably so for a non-firebender like the minister. There were a dozen half-visible figures kneeling on scarlet silk cushions around a low, broad onyx-black table, all of them important, almost all of them men. Gauging their expressions was purposefully difficult, but the old man judging several to be impatient to begin. This was but one of several locations their little group had taken to using, and it was among Xi’s least favorite. Still, duty demanded he take his seat and endure.

“Well?” one of the men, owner of this tea shop among many other things, leaned forward and asked before the latecomer had even settled in. “What did his highness say? Is he with us?”

“Unfortunately, it is as we feared,” Xi replied without any attempt at formality. “The loss of his son has caused General Iroh to overvalue his remaining family, to the detriment of his other responsibilities,” he sighed. “I regret to say he is very unlikely to act against these usurpers on his own, no matter how easy the task might currently be. He finds his pain so unbearable he dares not risk still more.”

“Will he recover, you think?” another man queried, stroking a thin grey mustache. “Will the general’s righteous wrath at this unabashed theft of his birthright by those who ought to have been the most loyal be rekindled?”

“I… don’t know,” Xi confessed honestly, a flash of uncertainty appearing briefly on his face before it hardened again. “What I do know is that the longer the imposter sits on the Dragon Throne, the longer the Dragon of the West is publicly seen to be doing nothing about it, the more acquiescence she will receive and the less willing anyone will be to do anything to correct the situation,” he snorted in disgust. “A single pretty speech with the rightful heir by her side and already some in my own ministry are wondering if the usurper will be staying on after all.”

“Surely not?” another man hissed. “Decades of allegiance to the Fire Nation’s Crown Prince and greatest war hero cannot be disregarded over the course of mere days!”

“You underestimate the fickleness of crowds,” a conspirator said. “Whatever else Lady Ursa is, she has the low cunning to realize the importance of timing and symbolism. General Iroh returns home on the back of his greatest defeat, the loss of his only heir, and then immediately appears by the so-called regent’s side, standing mute under the weight of his pain while she defiantly rallies the masses in the darkest hour?” 

“Shamelessness,” a man snarled.

“But powerful symbolism nonetheless,” the other argued. “She implants in the minds of the masses that he is broken, silent, and helpless while she stands tall, proud, the bearer of Agni’s light in a moment where it is sorely needed. Tell me honestly: who at that moment looks the better leader?”

There were gasps and hisses, with a number of glares traded across the table.

“Enough,” Xi cut in, a deep scowl set into his aged face. “Enough praising the usurper. The question is not what she is doing to prop up her cheap farce, but what we are going to do to replace her with the rightful heir?”

“And why should we?” one of the bolder men shot back, drawing even more gasps and glares. One man even had to be held back from reaching for his knife. Looking around briefly for support, the war veteran pressed on in spite of a total lack of it. “If General Iroh is as broken as he seems, as broken as you say, why should we attempt to force him to lead the Fire Nation to its destiny?” A few of the gathered conspirators glanced at one another. “Perhaps Fire Lord Azulon foresaw the ruin of his son in his dying hours? Perhaps even then he knew that the general could no longer lead?” He clenched a fist. “At least Lady Ursa still has the will to fight.”

“That’s exactly what she wants you to believe!”

“Does it matter, if the belief is true?” the dissenter shot back. “If the general himself does not even want the throne?”

“You’re telling me that after all these years, after all the campaigns we served under the Dragon, now you’ve lost your faith?!”

“I’m telling you to remember that we fought for the glory of the Fire Nation!” the old veteran snapped back at his cohort. “For the empire, for victory, for vision of Sozin!” He sat back, countenance visibly lowering. “We cannot lose sight of that. If General Iroh is no longer able to fulfil that destiny… if he is no longer willing even to try…” he sighed, “then what good will it do us, or the nation, to try and force him to assume the throne?”

“Remember your oath, Liu,” Xi said harshly, glaring down the old soldier. “Your life and your honor are bound to this.”

“Bound to us,” another conspirator hissed. “To go against us is to go against Sozin’s true heir, and to go against the true heir is treason.”

“After everything I’ve been through,” Liu hissed, “after everything I’ve sacrificed,” he gestured to the prominent battle scar running down his neck, “you question my loyalty? My devotion to the Fire Nation? Everything I’ve done has always been for it, and what I am saying now is no different.”

“I believe you speak truly,” the minister replied. “At least as far as you know.”

Sincere patriots are in regrettably short supply in the capital these days, Xi thought as he scrutinized the man. It would be a shame to lose this one.

Their mission was vital. Secrecy was vital. There could be no possibility of leaks.

It was only logical.

“But these doubts of yours,” he shook his head. “They are coming from weakness. From fear. You’re not thinking rationally, Liu. You served underneath the Dragon. You saw his fire at its hottest. You must have faith that it can be rekindled.”

“And we will be the ones to do it,” said another.

“For the glory of the Fire Nation and the honor of the Dragon Throne,” another clenched his fist.

“I…” Liu looked around again, finding nothing but hard faces staring back. “Of course,” Liu sank back onto his cushion, face visibly downcast, and stared down at his own gnarled, scarred hands. A moment later, he bowed his head. “…Forgive my foolish outburst.”

He’s considering abandoning us. He has to go, Xi decided then and there. The arrangements must be made before his resolve cracks entirely, and he goes running to General Iroh or the usurper.

If news leaked that connected even one of their group to an assassination attempt, however unauthorized, and then to one another then doubtless the usurper would purge them all. The true cause would be lost, and with it the honor and future of the Fire Nation. Another headache on the minister’s plate.

“You are forgiven,” he said aloud, nodding graciously before returning to a stern expression. “But there is another matter that has come to my attention. One that concerns us all very gravely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Purges, of course,” Xi answered him as though talking to a simpleton. “With an illegitimate usurper on the throne, it was completely inevitable that she would eventually move to dispose of those few who remain true. I can now confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that she has begun to do so.”

“So soon?” another man sounded skeptical. “Surely, she can’t afford to alienate the nation already, with no military or governing accomplishments to point to? How can she hope to rule if she hollows out the army, or the bureaucracy, and can point to nothing to show why they should follow her?”

“Perhaps she wouldn’t be moving so quickly if some of us,” the only woman at the table spoke up suddenly, glaring pointedly at her fellow conspirators, “hadn’t decided to try their hands at lone assassinations. The attempts were amateurish and ill-considered, serving to do nothing but put her on her guard. You ought to have shown more patience and forethought.”

“You’re one to talk, considering your history,” one man hissed at her. “I still say you ought not to have been allowed in here.”

“Your objections have been noted before, and overruled,” Xi frowned tightly. “Her assistance to our cause is valuable.”

If she could find our coterie on her own, there’s little in the city she can’t find.

“We are not here to retread old ground,” the minister said firmly, almost imperiously, fully expecting that to close the matter. Next, his eyes wandered to the right. “And yes, I am quite sure of what I say. According one of my closest assistants in the ministry, a man with whom I have worked for decades and whose unflinching loyalty I can absolutely rely on, a certain Colonel Cheung recently received a discreet invitation to the palace.”

“And that matters to us because?”

“Silence, you fool!” Xi hissed across the table, “Let me speak. I know none of you know this officer. Nor did I, save only by the position he held. Colonel Cheung is a decorated veteran of the Army of Ba Sing Se, a frontline officer of many years, who served admirably under the direct auspices of the Dragon of the West himself.” The minister paused a moment, taking a deep breath. “Or, rather, he was. Cheung entered the palace by night some scant few days ago, and never walked back out. I had one of my clerks discretely pull his records – they now claim he died of illness while at sea.” He snorted. “Utter and transparent falsehood. The brave officer was hale and whole when he stepped off the ship in the company of many other such veterans.”

A few of the conspirators exchanged glances at that.

“I believe our newest ally,” Xi gave a brief nod in her direction, “can confirm what happened next?”

“One of my men by the docks saw what happened,” the woman confirmed. “Men in the uniforms of Imperial Firebenders, down by the harbor in the dead of night. They carried a casket between them of just the right size.” She paused, looking several other conspirators in the eyes. “He swears to me that he caught muffled thrashing noises from inside.”

“And what did they do with it?”

“What do you think they did?” she retorted sardonically. “They dumped the entire burden in the deepest section of water they could find, watched it sink, and slipped away without a word. We’re fortunate my man was intelligent enough to remain in the shadows the whole time.”

“There you have it, from two completely independent sources,” the elderly minister declared. “A loyal soldier of the Fire Nation, a high-ranking field officer under General Iroh’s direct command, murdered in cold blood by the Royal Procession itself and his death covered up. Only one person could give such an order.”

“But… why?” one man, finely dressed as befitting a noble of his caliber, wondered aloud. “Cheung is – was – nothing, politically. A no one. His death wouldn’t advance the lady’s position at all.” He frowned. “Could there be some reason we’re not seeing?”

“Some reason you’re not seeing,” his female colleague remarked acidly, to which Xi slightly inclined his head.

“Our friend is correct,” the old man said. “You’re thinking too much in conventional political terms. You’re not seeing the true military aspect. Think. What is it that colonels do?”

“Coordinate lower officers?”

“Exactly. Colonels are the highest-ranking officers on the field in standard Fire Army deployments. It is to them, first and foremost, that the troops on the ground look to for immediate direction. It is from them that the Army of Ba Sing Se once looked to receive their general’s orders.” He took a moment to let that sink in. “Do you see now? Colonels like Cheung are not noticeable enough that their sudden passing would register strongly in the court, but they are crucial pieces in any conceivable military operation. With every one of them that the usurper is able to quietly remove – be it through murder or effective exile – the less and less able the veterans of Ba Sing Se, General Iroh’s most devoted soldiers, will be able to effectively act against her. Cheung doubtless only caught her attention for some particular act of heroism or devotion.”

“So now you see her scheme,” the old man went on, “feign affection for her marital brother to lower his guard, ‘welcome’ him back to the palace that ought rightfully to be his, and in his grief use him as a political prop to bolster her own status, all the while covertly eliminating those best suited and most likely to take direct action to remove her from her stolen throne.”

“Now consider this: if already she brazenly murders soldiers who arrived in the very same fleet as General Iroh,” Xi looked around at his fellows, “then who do you suppose is truly safe? If not a loyal veteran of our nation’s great war who had committed no affront to her, then whose life do you suppose such a callous woman holds truly sacred?”

There were a handful of nervous looks at that.

“And make no mistake about the nature of her actions, she will know perfectly well that no soldier stationed so far away from Caldera City could have had anything to do with any attempt on her life. There is no doubt she ordered his death solely to begin undermining the power base of the man she knows could sweep aside her illegitimate claim to power while he is too bereaved to notice.” Xi looked around at his allies, his expression heavy. “Think. If she is allowed to stay in power, to continue her quiet purge, then who will she stop at? More officers? Ministers? The nobility? Perhaps ultimately…” he swallowed. “even General Iroh himself?”

“No!” one of the other men, another veteran of the war, almost jumped off of his cushion. “I’ll die before I let that happen!”

“It does seem plausible,” the finely dressed woman said calmly. “If the usurper desired to eliminate the Dragon, luring him away from his most loyal soldiers and back to a capital where she knows assassins prowl would seem an effective option.”

“If the Royal Procession follows her and she is able to quietly eliminate General Iroh’s most loyal veteran soldiers…” a nobleman’s amber eyes were wide with realization. “She could have him assassinated with barely a fig leaf of plausible deniability. There would be no military force on this island able or willing to challenge her, and no one of sufficient gravity to inspire an empire-wide uprising.”

“We have many contacts throughout the Domestic Forces on the home island,” another man argued, looking pointedly at the minister. “If the need arose, surely we could call upon soldiery our own.”

“The Domestic Forces are rear-line troops, conscripted dregs, and glorified policing units,” the minister rebuked him sharply. “They have neither the will nor the ability to challenge the Royal Procession. And more than that, contacts are one thing. Asking them to mount an organized military revolt against the Dragon Throne itself? Don’t be a fool. We would be sold out within the hour.”

“So… if Aiguo remains loyal to the usurper, the veterans of Ba Sing Se are the only military force on the island capable of action should she poison the General and claim he died of his grief?”

Xi nodded grimly.

“And she could be having their leadership eliminated as we speak,” the aristocrat’s face went pale. “Lady Ursa must be removed as soon as possible. We can’t afford to wait.”

“Yes. But perhaps… not her alone,” Xi added.

The man looked quizzically at the minister. “What do you mean?”

“I speak now of Ozai’s charming daughter. Spiteful, ill-tempered, and vicious, lacking all honor and filial piety. Left alone she will become just as he was, if not worse. But perhaps there are alternate paths for her,” the old man said, something approaching a smile tugging at the wrinkled corner of his mouth. “What better way now to convince General Iroh to take the throne than the urgency of keeping his nephew safe?”

Chapter Text

“For the last time, Father, Aila is going to be fine,” Captain Li Lai of the Fire Navy said, leaning back in his chair, an exasperated look on his face. “She’s more than old enough to spend a little extra time alone with Airen.”

“She’s seven,” Liu Lai pointed out from where he leaned up against the wall of the spacious officer’s accommodations. “The way I’m hearing it you practically won’t have any winter leave this year. Orders straight from the top, they’re going to have the navy working overtime hauling half the damned army to the other side of the continent. It’ll take months, under near constant steam.”

“That’s what the rumors are saying,” the younger man sighed grimly. “Nothing too official, but you know the way commanders in the cups talk.”

“Only too well,” Liu nodded. “That means you won’t even have had a month with your daughter the entire year. She’s at the age where that sort of thing really isn’t good for her.”

“You worry too much. Aila’s a strong girl, she’ll be alright,” his son replied. “And as I recall, when I was seven you were out across the sea, earning your scars, while I was back home with Mother and the rest,” Li pointed out. “And I think I turned out alright.”

“That’s exactly what worries me.”

“Ha ha ha,” the young captain rolled his eyes.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. I could still pull a few strings with Admiral-”

“For the last time, no,” his son held up his hand. “I’m not abandoning my men to do all the grunt work moving loads of landlubbers in the freezing cold, going home to visit my family while they’re kept from theirs.”

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know.”

There came a faint hint of a grin. “They say it runs in the family.”

“So they say,” Liu returned it, shaking his head. “At least make sure to write them.”

“As often as the hawk flies,” his son promised. “Maybe I’ll remember to send something your way once in a while.”

“That’s my boy,” the scarred veteran opened his arms expectantly.

“Aren’t I a little old for that?”

“One lesson fatherhood will teach you: your children are never too old for that.”

Li shook his head. “Fine, but only because we’re alone.”

“Naturally.”

Father and son shared a quick, but tight embrace in the low orange glow of bronze lanterns, the sounds of the nearby harbor now rendered audible.

“If they don’t run me too ragged in the meantime, I’ll try and make it up to the Caldera estate before I ship out in three days,” the young captain promised.

“I’d like that,” Liu nodded. “But in the meantime, I suppose I’d better be heading back that way myself.”

“If you want any sleep tonight,” Li nodded. “You really should take a carriage more often, you know.”

“Walking keeps you in good shape,” the older man had already slipped on a long, hooded, burnt red winter cape. “When you’re my age, you’ll understand.”

“My Agni bless me with so many years,” his son smirked, snapping off a quick salute.

“And many more besides,” his father returned it briefly, before turning, sliding open the well-worn steel door, and stepping out into the night.

The veteran soldier was but a hundred feet from the sea, the mighty Sovereign-class cruiser Inexorable looming visibly over the city streets and dockside faculties that defined this little harbor, and the town that had sprung up around it. It was but one small port of many such dotted around the shores of the home island, notably only for its relative proximity to Caldera – only around two hours journey by foot, at a brisk walk. That Li’s ship had been assigned here for its due refit was less than coincidental.

Liu hadn’t wanted to attract any special notice – from anyone – tonight, and so he had left his hired guards back at his estate. It left him more time alone with his thoughts, and if he could brave the vicious battlefields of the Earth Kingdom with no bodyguards, then the roads and towns of the home island itself were hardly going to intimidate him.

Still, that didn’t mean there weren’t some risks associated with walking down dark streets alone in the dead of night. As the war had swallowed up more and more of the Fire Nation’s highest quality manpower, the policing competence back home had sadly diminished. Street gangs, not a few with some military training themselves, were more active than ever across the home islands. Especially at night.

Liu pulled his winter cloak tighter about himself.

As he wound his way through the maze of old buildings and new, darkened steel barracks and workshops placed side by side with white stone buildings of the classic style, the scarred veteran’s mind soon turned away from his son. Darker, heavier matters clouded his thoughts. What he had seen, that night not long ago. What he had heard. What his comrades were going to do.

The greying man shook his head sadly. It was one thing when it was about deposing a lone usurper, ideally without any bloodshed, and returning the true heir to the throne. But the cold-blooded murder of a child, one not much older than little Aila? One of the last two children of the ancient and venerated royal family, pure-blooded descendants of Agni and Sozin alike? When the even true heir himself asked that there be no such measures, no such violence? It was madness. Pure, simple, myopic madness.

To commit such a heinous act as the unprovoked shedding of sacred blood, that of a child no less, in a time where the true line was already so dangerously thin was certain to draw the ire of their patron spirits upon the nation, with disastrous consequences. Agni and his host would doubtless turn their backs on the Fire Nation, and for his own part Liu felt that merely suggesting it would be more than enough to see the guilty banished to the purgatorial underworlds for a very long stint before being allowed reincarnation.

And even beyond that, the girl was young enough to be his granddaughter! If not for the likes of her, then who were they fighting for?

Sighing sadly, his thoughts slowly turned to Colonel Cheung. Whatever Xi claimed, Liu doubted that the man’s death, if such had truly happened as he had been told – and there was little enough way to verify for himself that it had – was truly the beginning of some general purge. The elderly minister had never served in the army himself, but as a military man Liu knew that not only would killing a handful of them have a fairly negligible effect on the ability of the veterans of Ba Sing Se to organize should the Dragon call for a general revolt (and surely he was the only one who could), but also that subtly killing off the officer corps drawn from an army over two hundred thousand strong was utterly impossible. Ursa could not hope to hide such large-scale killings as would be required to debilitate their military capacity from the court, the remainder of the army, or the general himself. If anything could inspire a broad-scale revolt, that would be it.

No, whatever the true reason for Cheung’s supposed murder was, Liu was prepared to bet a substantial fortune that it was not because the usurper planned some general, quiet purge of the officer corps. Regardless, it was not his primary concern. That was, and had always been, the triumph and well-being of the Fire Nation. After the loss at Ba Sing Se, the death of Prince Lu Ten, and the breaking of the Dragon of the West, the nation was at its lowest ebb in decades. He had thought General Iroh the man capable of taking the reigns and righting the ship of state, it was what had brought him to Xi in the first place, but after seeing the man himself, even in good physical condition? After hearing his voice crack, his words like nothing so much as the death rattles of wounded men? As much as it hurt to admit it, his old commander was in no shape to lead anyone. That left but one currently viable choice with the legitimacy to ensure that their nation would not stumble within sight of final victory.

Even if he did not believe that said royal widow was currently preparing a general purge, the absolute last thing they needed right now was a theoretically all-powerful autocrat becoming paranoid. They could not afford to see her striking out at whoever she deemed suspicious, so focused on the internal enemies that kept trying to kill her that she lost sight of the great dream at their heart of their nation these last ninety-five years.

But if the usurper knew just who it was that was really plotting against her, there would no need for any great purges. She would have no need to take the risk of creating many new enemies by eliminating mere potential ones, not when she could ensure stability by cleanly excising a small and distinct group of people for definite reasons. It would be easy enough for him to lead the Imperial Firebenders straight to a gathering spot of her enemies. She would have the clear evidence she needed to rid herself of the distraction and maintain a leader’s proper focus. It seemed like the best chance they had.

General Iroh himself had said that what he wanted now was stability in the Fire Nation, not further turmoil or bloodshed. What was a loyal soldier to do, but follow orders?

He had met Ursa only a few times in his life, all in her capacity as Prince Ozai’s bride, and so knew little about what he could expect from her. But General Iroh he had followed proudly into battle for many years, and Azulon’s firstborn he knew to be an honorable man. If Iroh swore to do everything to see the conspirators’ lives spared in return for his information, to see that their families were left untouched, then Liu could be certain that he truly would. His fellows’ grasp of reality might have been warped by storms of emotion and their proposed crimes unforgivable, but their intentions had been, at the root, honorable. They deserved at least a slight clemency for that.

For himself, the old soldier turned politician would accept whatever fate the usurper – the Fire Lady – chose to mete out. Likely it would be execution, she would want someone’s head after the attempts to take hers, even if he himself had not been directly involved in any of them. For the rest, if General Iroh agreed to pressure her to merely strip them of power and banish them instead putting them all to the sword – and Liu had every confidence that he would in return for names – then a woman in such a precarious political situation as herself would likely agree.

It wasn’t a betrayal, the scarred veteran told himself, as his steps took him the through the quiet gloom surrounding the nighttime docks. He was saving these misguided souls, preventing them from committing a terrible crime in a fit of blind madness. He was remaining faithful and true to the principles of fidelity, hierarchy, and duty which they all claimed but had twisted to allow them to simply act on their own desires and hatreds with a thin veneer of personal honor. It was he, after all, that was going to obey they actual wishes of the man that they professed to follow, not merely what he thought those wishes ought to be.

His mind more and more made up with each passing step, Liu made his way further and further into the maze of buildings that surrounded the drydocks, the sounds of the sea fading behind him and the specter of the distant extinct volcano looming ever larger ahead. He passed a handful of still open wine shops, a house of ill-repute, and a handful of people still about, largely beggars or drunks, but the further inland he walked the less and less active the already mostly empty streets became. The chill breeze that marked the first true sign of the oncoming winter picked up as he went.

Neither the wind nor the quiet buildings around him quite kept another sound from reaching his ears. A cold shudder passed down Liu’s neck, a sadly familiar feeling he had learned to trust on the battlefield a dozen times over. His head didn’t turn, but his hood was allowed to flap a little more loosely in the breeze, his ash-grey eyes glancing subtly from side to side.

He was being followed.

Two men, either side, using buildings for cover, he noted, picking up his pace and watching as the unknowns, dressed in dull red and grey clothing, did the same. They’ve done this before. Possibly ex-military.

It didn’t come as much of a shock, then, to find another pair of men waiting for him at the very edge of the little harbor town, right at the border of the forested road that led back to Caldera City. Both wore nondescript outfits of dark reds and muted greys, one with a hooded winter cloak not dissimilar to the nobleman’s own and a cloth mask covering half his face, and the second sporting a bare, bald head and a long pointed black beard.

“Nice night for a stroll, huh?” the bearded man said, leaning against a dull steel wall with arms crossed over his chest. “Or maybe something more?”

Liu halted, holding his position right in the middle of the street, to put maximum distance between himself and any advantageous ambush point. One of the figures who had been walking alongside him emerged from a side alley, also masked but not cloaked, to stand alongside the other two already there. The fourth figure remained conspicuous by his absence. He glanced around warily, unsure if there were even more of them.

“You seem a little lost,” the little gang’s apparent spokesman went on. “You’re dressed a bit too nice for a dump like this place.”

The scarred man’s eyes narrowed a little. His clothing wasn’t of any especially high quality – that would have defeated the entire point of visiting his son quietly and alone.

“You’ll fit much better up there in Caldera,” he nodded vaguely in the capital’s direction, then continued with faux sympathy. “’Course, we’ll let you head back that way, but first we’d like to ask if you might consider… making a donation to a few hungry, down on their luck vets?”

“I don’t have any money,” he replied curtly. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Gonna be that way, is it?” the thug said to the low chuckles of the two men beside him. “You know the Domestics ain’t about to come running?”

“I speak nothing but the truth.”

“We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” the bearded drew his sword from a well-oiled scabbard, a weapon Liu recognized immediately as being army standard issue, save for a few personal markings. “I’m gonna come over there real nice-like and make sure you’re not holding out on us.” He took a few steps forward, with an affected air of nonchalance. “Stay nice and still while I pat you down for a coin purse and you might just make-”

The back-alley goon stepped just within striking distance of the older man, and without any warning at all, abruptly threw himself into a lunging strike. The point of his sword darted out quick as a pouncing lynxwolf, aimed right for the retired soldier’s throat. Liu’s reflexes must have dulled with age, for the sword’s edge still managed to catch the edge of his neck as he twisted aside, drawing blood and sending a sharp wave of pain through his old scar there.

The assailant staggered a step too far forward, overextended, but was quick on his feet and already whirling back around to face his prey. But he wasn’t fast enough, for the scarred noble’s right fist had already risen, and a burst of red-orange flame caught him square in the face. The all too familiar acrid stench of burnt flesh hit the veteran’s nose as the swordsman let out a piercing scream, blade falling from his hands as he fell to his knees, clutching a smoking face. He was already forgotten.

War had taught Liu to waste neither time nor words. Even as he spun to face his other attackers, he was transitioning seamlessly into a familiar kata. His left foot swung about in a spinning kick, and a low wave of bright yellow and orange took the legs out from underneath two other men charging with daggers drawn, only the traditionally fire-resistant clothing of the homeland saving them from much worse. Bodies struck pavement with meaty smacks, daggers clattering audibly across stone.

But there wasn’t a moment to spare for them, for the telltale whoosh from behind already had the veteran warrior turning back around instinctively. A blaze in his hand caught the one aimed at his back, dispersing it in a harmless but dazzling crescent of sparks. He immediately counterattacked, advancing first one, then two, then three steps forward in perfect synch with swings of his balled fists, punctuating each with a head-size orb of fire hurled right back at the other firebender.

The other, semi-masked man had already folded his fingers into a triangle and now thrust them forward, dispersing a fireball as harmless streams of energy along either side of his body in a standard defensive technique, and likewise catching the second and so dissipating it. His lack of experience showed in the way he’d failed to notice that the third move in the sequence had been deliberately aimed lower – this fire blast passed right beneath his arms, catching him right in the stomach.

All firebending contains explosive potential, but Liu had put a little extra force into that particular move, and so the detonation was especially fierce. The firebending thug was hurled back half a dozen yards by the sheer force of the attack, sliding roughly across the cobblestone street. His tough clothes were charred away about his midsection, smoke rising from his abdomen and the smell of more seared flesh filling the air. Still, he was visibly trying to sit up and his opponent was in no mood for mercy. The nobleman’s conjured flame as he brought his left hand whipping back around was such a bright shade of yellow that it was almost white.

Abruptly, there came a sudden lance of pain in his back, driving the breath from his lungs. The fire clutched in his hand fizzled and died away. He stumbled forwards a step, head lolling forward almost limply, grey eyes wandering down to the point of a knife emerging from his chest.

“Got ‘em,” the triumphant words of a whole new voice rang in his ears, somehow distant and deafening all at once.

They were just here to kill me. A terrible realization came far, far too late for Liu Lai. Xi set this up.

Blood poured from the scarred nobleman’s chest as the blade was ripped right back out of his flesh. The world around him grew fuzzy and dark. He sank to his knees, then his hands and knees. His breath came rapidly, his body hyperventilating as his wounded heart pounded on the inside of his chest. His ears rang out as though a titanic bell tolled within. More crimson stained the light grey cobblestone.

“M-Madness…” was the last word to pass his lips.

In the dead of night, a mercenary stalked the docks.

His was a life defined by paradoxes. He was a cripple, a maimed invalid who could barely write the characters of his own name with his remaining hand, and yet he was stronger than almost any man in the nation, was more deadly than a whole squad of soldiers put together. It had been scarcely a year since he had truly begun, and he already had the record to prove that. If his country knew the full truth of his deeds, it would undoubtedly condemn him to a lifetime in the Boiling Rock, and yet when it came down to it, he simply loved it too much to let himself be used to plunge it into chaos. That was what had brought him here tonight.

Well, that and the promise of a payday greater than anything that he or anyone he knew had seen in their entire lives.

He had begun his current investigation with only two solid facts. One, that someone, or more likely a group of someones, wished the Fire Lady dead, but did not want to do the deed with their own hands. Second, that they wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened when they tried hiring him.

The first step was therefore simple: look to see if anyone else from around the home island had taken the job. That wasn’t as difficult as it might seem to uninitiated. “Assassin”, at least on the level above that of a common street thug, was not a wildly popular profession, and the clientele were both very demanding and highly selective. If you wanted any chance at the truly big jobs, the ones that might actually be enough to let you kick up your feet on Ember Island drinking rice wine for the rest of your days, you had to know the people who knew people. And know those people the mercenary certainly did.

Their profession was infamously tight-lipped, no one more so than himself, but even so the sums of money that would have been commanded by that sort of contract had a way of showing themselves – the finest delicacies, exotic imported liquors, the prettiest girls, tailored robes, refurbished weaponry, wild celebrations atop luxurious yachts, maybe even a sumptuously appointed villa to call their own. In a line of work where a gruesome demise was never more than a single botched job away, it was a rare man indeed who long hoarded his coin.

He had already confirmed to himself that it wasn’t so. That was as he suspected it would be. Not many locals, even his trade, would want to put an endless target on their backs by accepting the guilt of regicide. The fact that most of the best among them were veterans themselves, and so had at least residual qualms about committing the ultimate in high treason, only added to his certainty. If they wanted assassins that they could count on to do the deed, his quarry would want men from abroad. Find the right people, and they might not even have to pay them to take a shot at the Fire Nation’s highest leadership.

It was following up on that line of reasoning that had brought the towering assassin here, winding his way through a back alley amidst a grid of identical dull metal buildings by the sea in the dead of night. He passed through a door that ought to have been securely locked, but was not, and found himself amidst the clutter of a disorganized warehouse only half-full. He closed the door quietly behind him, took several steps deeper inside, and then dutifully wrapped his metal fists thrice against one of the crates. Then he did it again. And then a third time. It was a few seconds later when his keen eyes zeroed in on movement, one bit of cloth stirring amidst a whole disorderly pile of it.

His contact for tonight was a taller man than most – the top of his head came all the way up to the mercenary’s nose. But where the maimed assassin was bulky and powerfully built, the other man was so slender and gangly he was almost reed-like. A hooded cloak was wrapped around his body, a cloth mask across his lower face failed to entirely conceal his prominent, hawklike nose, and strands of greasy black hair dangled down beside dull brown eyes. Feng wasn’t the man’s name. Or perhaps it was, and he merely went through their whole charade as an elaborate exercise in double bluffing. It mattered little either way.

Feng had many competitors, of whom Li Jie was only the most publicly known. A place like Caldera City thrived on secrets, and where there were buyers there would always be sellers. For his own part, the mercenary found the former dockside tramp a more reliable source than most. Perhaps he might not always be able to get an ear into the meetings of the high and mighty, but everything they did, from the Fire Lady to the lowliest bureaucrat, made ripples amongst the tides of humanity that existed to carry out their orders. If one learned how to properly discern and interpret those disturbances, one seldom needed any eyes within the palace itself. And Feng had perfected that art to a degree that few others could match.

“You’re early,” the weedy man commented.

“It’s a good business practice. You’ve looked into the matter I asked about?”

“Depends. You got the gold I asked about?”

The assassin nodded once, flinging a leather coin purse the informant’s way with his remaining fleshy hand. Despite his unassuming appearance, Feng caught it in a surprisingly agile display of his reflexes. He opened it briefly, rolled the coinage around in his hand, and then it promptly disappeared into the folds of his cloak.

“Right then,” he nodded at the mercenary. “What you wanted was news of foreigners, ‘specially those coming in all suspicious-like. Well, have I got something for you.” The mask made it difficult to tell, but it certainly sounded like the man was grinning. “Feng always comes through.”

“Then let’s hear it.”

“Some of my friends in the bars and pleasure houses down by the harbor heard some funny stories from some sailors, not two days ago,” he said. “Tales of strange men, with foreign accents, not found on any ship’s register. Kept to themselves, didn’t talk much. Hard-looking men, lots of lean muscle and intense faces. Gave the sailors the creeps. Captain didn’t tell them anything about who they were or why they were on board, just that they weren’t to be disturbed. Was easy enough – they slept in their cabin, fed themselves, didn’t even come deckside once in the whole ten-day journey from over in Bai Haian.”

“And the name of this ship?”

“I was getting to it,” he groused. “These men were from the Baise Huoyan.”

That’s a trading ship belonging to House Meili, the mercenary mentally noted. He’d seen the large cargo barge several times before, it being a relatively common sight in and out of ports around the capital. He’d even been a passenger on it himself, for a job he’d once taken over in the colonies.

“And you know what? There’s more. Some of the girls say that sailors swore they heard twanging sounds below decks, especially at night, and they found a few barrels with brand new holes in ‘em.”

Foreign archers, smuggled covertly into the heart of the Fire Nation? His pulse didn’t quite quicken, he was far too professional for that, but he definitely had a good feeling about this lead.

“Now the next part, none of the sailors saw,” Feng continued. “But some of my boys hanging out by the docks spotted something else. Get this, when the Domestics were getting ready to do the standard checks on an inbound cargo ship, some toady in a bureaucrat’s robe came up and flashed some papers at ‘em, and they backed off right quick. The boys didn’t know what to make of that.”

That will be someone from Domestic Affairs, the mercenary concluded. No other ministry would be able to pull rank so easily within the home island’s borders.

“And these strange foreign men,” the hulking assassin asked his contact. “What happened to them?”

“They got off the ship, dressed up like proper Fire Nation types,” he answered. “Met a carriage a few blocks over, pulled the blinds down, and rode off just like that. The boys didn’t see where exactly they went, but it definitely could’ve been the royal city,” his eyes were fixed on his customer’s. “It all sounded pretty suspicious to me.”

“Without question. Can you point me to the carriage’s driver?”

Feng nodded once. “Name’s Lee Jin. Carriage for hire. Works the area around the southern docks, mostly. I can point out his usual routes on a map.”

“And the bureaucrat waving the papers?”

“Xiao Fu. Some jumped up dockside bean-counter with a talent for brown nosing. Not a very brave man, or so I've heard,” he snickered. “I’m sure he’ll love meeting you.”

The large man kept his stoic expression. “Very good. Are there any other things you’ve heard about suspicious foreigners?”

“Nothing nearly like that, no,” he shook his head. “Just some sketchy folks ‘from the colonies’ with suspect papers, hawking wares in back-alley markets and slipping the occasional Domestic a silver coin or two. Didn’t figure that’d interest you.”

“You figured right.”

“I know my customers,” he said, with a trace of pride.

“That you do,” the assassin replied, with a simple nod.

Uncle wasn’t doing well.

As the Fire Lord, Zuko was almost always busy with one lesson or another, as they tried to cram decades’ worth of education in politics, firebending, military strategy, court life, history, ritual, and so much more into the space of a handful of years. Uncle had been busy too, or at least that’s what Mom said. She had asked him to help her out for a little while, to make sure that everything in the Fire Nation was running well, and then he would get to decide what he would do next. The young ruler-to-be had done his best to keep it off his face, but part of him had been a little jealous about that, had wished for the thousandth time that the crown had gone to Uncle, where it belonged, and not to him.

Zuko had never really understood Grandpa Azulon. The old man had always been distant, and stern, and scary. He’d never seen his father’s father smile, not even once in his life. Even Dad had smiled at him at least a couple of times, especially when he was younger. He especially never understood why his own grandfather had decided that he needed to die for what Dad had said. Mom said that he’d changed his mind before she’d spoken to him, that he’d never really meant it, but the boy guessed that was just her trying to comfort him, to make him feel safer after Dad was suddenly ripped away. Grandpa always meant what he said, and never changed his mind. Whatever Mom had said to him in their audience had to have been the most convincing stuff ever if he’d gone back on his decision even on what turned out to be his deathbed.

But the more Zuko saw of Uncle Iroh in the days following his return home, for once he felt that he genuinely did get Grandpa, or at least his dying wish. The fun-loving older man who loved playing the tsungi horn, Lu Ten’s indulgent but proud father, the war hero who always had an exciting battle story to tell and foreign trets to dole out, and even the doting uncle who liked to ask about his favorite nephew’s firebending studies (and who smiled about them a lot more often than Dad), all of those things were gone. In their place was… nothing.

Whenever Zuko saw him, which was not that often, Uncle did not smile. He did not joke, or tell cool stories, or ramble on about silly games or what plants made the best sorts of tea. He’d attended less than one full meal with the rest of his family in all the time he’d been back, and even then, he’d barely touched some of his own favorite foods before retiring to bed hours before sunset. It was almost like his uncle had died alongside his son at Ba Sing Se, and what was left walking around was just a hollow shell. If Grandpa had known, or even guessed, what had happened to Uncle then Zuko couldn’t honestly fault him for deciding the throne had to go to Dad, had to go to him instead.

It wasn’t until midafternoon, several days after General Iroh had returned to Caldera, that the young Fire Lord finally contrived some time away from his tutors at a time when the former happened to be free. He, or rather Private Sang of his perpetual escort, located the rapidly greying older man on one of the palace’s many internal balconies. Overlooking a private courtyard well out of the capital’s sight, Zuko’s uncle knelt on a crimson cushion opposite a low lounge sofa of foreign design, the brass and onyx table before him set out with a full tea set that looked from a distance like it had barely been touched.

Slowly, cautiously, leaving his constant escort of Imperial Firebenders posted at the conjoined room’s interior door, the boy made his way to the portal separating the inside of the palace from the balcony. He took a moment to collect himself and take a deep breath or two. When he felt ready, the boy gave the portal’s side a handful of gentle knocks, then quickly withdrew his hand.

“…Yes?” came the eventual reply, several seconds later.

“It’s… me, Uncle,” Zuko said. “Can I join you?”

“You may.”

At that, Zuko brushed aside the veil of semitransparent crimson curtains that stood in his way, feeling the temperature drop several degrees as he stepped outside. The Dragon of the West had his head bent and his eyes closed, kneeling on his cushion as if in meditation. Gingerly, propelled by some instinct to be as quiet as possible, the Fire Lord made his way to the low-lying lounge sofa across from the old man, perching himself upon the edge of it. He stared across the onyx table at his uncle, who took a good little while to even open his eyes. When he finally did, they were noticeably bloodshot.

“What brings you out here at this hour, nephew?”

“I wanted to see you. We haven’t talked much since you got back.”

“I suppose we haven’t,” Uncle dipped his head just a little. “My apologies.”

“No, no, it’s alright!” Zuko hurriedly waved both his hands, shaking his head. “I’m not mad. I get it. I get what you’re going through.”

“…I pray to every spirit I know that you don’t, and that you never do,” Iroh sighed.

“R-Right,” Zuko nodded little nervously, his mind only just realizing how offensive his words could have come across as. “I just…”

“I know,” Uncle nodded at him. “I know, nephew.”

“Anyway,” the boy continued with a swallow, reaching down into the sash at his waist and extracting a short, ornate hilt embedded in an equally elaborate foreign scabbard. The pearl-hilted dagger slid so smoothly out of its casing that it seemed to be covered in oil, the highly polished steel blade reflecting the sunlight with a mirror’s sheen. The war trophy was in absolutely immaculate condition, Zuko had spent some time making sure of it before coming. “I thought I’d bring you something. You already have all the tea you want, so…” he shrugged a little bit helplessly. “You sent this to me, remember?”

Uncle gave a languid nod.

“See what it says?”

He took a brief look at the inscription running along the side of the blade. “Made in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Oops,” Zuko hurriedly flipped the pearl-handled dagger around. “I mean, now see what it says?”

“Never give up without a fight,” Iroh said drily. 

“Yeah,” he replied, staring anxiously over at the general’s care-worn face. “You thought that that would be good a good message for me, right? So… you know… I thought…” he trailed off, a little awkwardly, when Uncle took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I know you mean well, Zuko,” the older man said quietly, after a moment’s pause, “but I would ask you to please put that away. The memories it brings back are not pleasant ones.”

“Sorry,” the boy said, a slight flush on his face, as he hurried the jam the knife back into its scabbard, and the scabbard back into his sash. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” he repeated. “That knife is yours now, Zuko. I want you to keep it.”

“O-Okay…” his eyes wandered downwards, towards the table and the fine tea set lying neglected all over it.

“If you would like to give me a gift,” his uncle continued, “I would like something with more of… you. It has been over… two years since we have properly spoken to one another. Why don’t… why don’t you tell me how your studies are going?”

Inwardly, Zuko groaned just a little. He spent most of his days thinking about those already because Mom asked him to. Uncle now wanted him to do it some more? The greater part of him quashed that irritation before it could show.

“Master Akihiro says that my forms are coming along well. He says I’ll be able to do the whole set of Striking Tigersnake katas perfectly before springtime if I keep at it,” Zuko said with a trace of pride, trying not to think about the fact that Azula had already mastered that style months ago. “He says I’m really far ahead of most kids my age.”

Dad would say that that wasn’t enough. That he was behind the curve for the children of the royal family, and that he needed to do more just to catch up to where he ought to be. Mom still said she was proud of him, though. He hoped Uncle thought more like Mom.

If he had hoped to catch a glimpse of an approving look on his revered uncle’s face, though, the young Fire Lord was to be sorely disappointed. The older man’s rapidly-greying, care-worn face could muster no smiles for him this day.

“Do you… wanna see me show you what I’ve been practicing?” he stood up, raising his hands and bending his knees into the opening pose as he must have done a thousand times by now. “I can do it for you now, right here if you-”

Uncle shook his head, just once. “Not today, please.”

“…Oh,” Zuko’s eyes were downcast as he sank back onto the sofa.

“I just… don’t feel I’d be able to properly appreciate it right now. Perhaps…” his voice was soft, “Perhaps some other time.”

“Alright,” the boy nodded, his head and shoulders perking up just a little. “When you’re feeling better, you’ll come and see me train?”

“…Of course I will.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” the young Fire Lord bowed his head briefly, before remembering he wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. At least not before the other person had already bowed lower, bowed longer.

“Mmm…” thankfully, Iroh didn’t seem to notice the breach of protocol.

“So yeah, firebending’s going pretty well,” Zuko continued after a spell. “I do wish Master Piandao would come by more, though,” he confessed. “He goes just as hard, but he at least tells a lot more interesting stories than Master Akihiro. But Mom says I have to spend lot more time with him.”

And I’m better with swords than firebending, he admitted, if only to himself.

“Well… the position isn’t called ‘Sword Lord’” Uncle pointed out.

Was that a bit of a joke? The Fire Lord wondered, though Iroh’s expression hadn’t changed one iota. Still, it gave him hope.

“Well maybe it should be!” he declared with an almost exaggerated exuberance. “Swords are worth way more time than a lot of people think. Azula says they’re for peasants who can’t firebend, but she’s wrong.”

“…Maybe you’ll issue a decree on the subject someday.”

“I’ll definitely do that!” he nodded vigorously.  

At those words, a quick flash of something in his peripheral vision momentarily drew the Fire Lord’s golden gaze across the courtyard.

Is there something on that other balcony? Zuko asked himself, glancing briefly in that direction but not immediately catching a glimpse of anything.

“Besides… fighting,” Iroh grimaced, “what else have you been learning about?”

“There’s some big ritual thing that Mom wants to do,” Zuko said with a sigh, shoulders slumping a little. “It’s been taking up a lot of my time this last little bit. The whole thing is really long, and there’s a lot of chanting, and I have to do it in front of everyone. But…” here the young Fire Lord straightened up, clenching his fist, “Mom says it’s to help Lu Ten and everyone else who died at Ba Sing Se, so I couldn’t say no. I promise I’ll get it right!” He looked up at Uncle and put on his best brave face. “You’ll see – I won’t let them down!”

“I… I’m…” Uncle’s face faltered, and he closed his eyes again. “I’m sure… sure he would appreciate that. Truly…” he wiped just below his left eye with a sleeve. “He would, Zuko.”

Zuko’s expression also wavered as his uncle lapsed back into silence, but he kept it as firm as he could. If there was one thing, anything, that Fire Lord training was struggling to impress upon the young boy, it was that one day the entire nation would look to him to strengthen it, to provide it with direction and reassure it when things looked dire. Good facial control, they said, was absolutely essential for the job. Some days they worked so hard on it his face got sore.

There was a period of yet more silence in the courtyard, as Iroh continued to be lost in his own internal world, and then… there! There was definitely something on the other balcony, Zuko knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Doing his best to seem nonchalant, the young ruler gave a yawn, rolled his shoulders, and then stretched out his arms above his head. Then he stretched his neck a little, and in the process looked directly over at the opposite balcony and just what it was pressing itself so low to the seating.

Was that… Azula watching them from over there?

Minister Xi’s idea, Ursa had decided, was a good one.

Azulon’s old head of Domestic Affairs was on to something when he had said that the Fire Nation needed something to reinvigorate its spirits after the multiple severe blows it had suffered in quick succession this year. It would be months before their spring offensives would have the chance to properly reassert their dominance on the battlefield. As things currently stood, any festival could not be something overly bombastic, for boasts of the nation’s vast military superiority and achievement would only ring hollow after nearly two years of grueling siege warfare had just ended in resounding failure. No, what the people needed right now was not the triumphal roar of a battleship’s furnace but the simple comfort of a hearth-fire. At her instruction, Xi had had his ministry put together a number of proposals for her, and the Fire Lady believed that she had found the most appropriate one for these trying times.

The Rite of the Spirit Lamps was said to be a boon to the souls of the recently-deceased, invoking the blood lineage that tied the Fire Lords back to the Sun Father to create a great beacon in the spirit world, guiding wandering souls back to the sacred halls of their ancestors, preventing them from becoming trapped, restless, angry ghosts that plagued their living relations. It had not been performed in over thirty-two years, though whether that was due to the late Azulon having had no time for it, being physically unable to perform the rather involved ceremony, or simply no longer caring was anyone’s guess.

It was a long and solemn ceremony, to be performed in public by the Fire Lord, beginning just as the sun began to dip below the horizon and ending almost an hour and half into the night. It was quite a bit of an ask from a mere eleven-year-old boy on his first real public act as the formal ruler of the nation, but when she’d talked it over with her son, explained the purpose of it all, Zuko had been adamant that he could do it.

“If Lu Ten and all the rest could fight for six hundred days for all of us,” her firstborn had loudly declared, “then I won’t let two hours of throwing fire and praying stop me from helping them!”

Ursa would readily admit that she had rarely been prouder of her son.

So, it had been decided. Zuko would perform the traditional rite, alone upon the purpose-built ritual platform, with his mother and sister in attendance at their own pavilion. Ursa had no intention of compelling her brother-in-law either way, not after she had already asked so much of him. He would attend, or not, at his own discretion. Around them all would be the gathered masses of Caldera – at an appropriate (and safe) distance, of course. Once the rite had been fully completed, Ursa would give a solemn speech of her own to mark the occasion, and then the capital would experience a rare bout of night life as men and women ate and drank, first listening to traditional songs of mourning or death poems, and then toasting the deceased and celebrating the lives of those they had lost in story and song. Smaller, synchronous rituals would be performed throughout the Fire Nation, by the comrades or family members of the deceased, if at all possible, all the better to speed their martyred loved ones to their reward, be it in a new life or beyond this world altogether.

Since High Sage Sheng had been so opposed to this idea to begin with, Ursa had decided that it might be best to get advice on her own role in the age-old ceremony and the public speaking that came with it from an altogether different source – in this case Lo and Li. The two had been around the court a very long time, and so had born witness to Fire Lord Azulon performing the rite himself and making his own speech afterwards over eight times. That was an experience very few living souls could boast.

The elderly twin sisters had been Ozai’s creatures for as long as she had known them, though she knew little of the details of what use he had put them to. He had never cared much for public speaking, preferring to let his actions communicate whatever he thought fit for the masses to know. She did know that, before his death, her husband had been considering gifting their services to Azula. Still, whatever his plans for them had been, the two elderly women had been willing enough to stay on with his widow instead, and they had far more experience with such prolonged public displays than she.

“Do you think there’s anything I can do to help him concentrate?” Ursa asked from where she stood on the palace balcony, overlooking the square that had been chosen for the occasion. She recalled their family’s fateful final audience with Azulon and could not entirely suppress a frown. “There are sure to be thousands of people in attendance. Even with the Imperial Firebenders creating a cordon, he won’t be able to forget about all the eyes on him.”

Ursa was not of the blood of Agni, she could not perform the age-old rite, or else she would have done it in order to spare her son the ordeal. It had to be the Fire Lord himself.

“The best thing you can do, Lady Ursa,” said one of the sisters, whom she guessed was Li, “is to let the Fire Lord see that you believe in him.”

“Allow his young majesty to hear no doubt in your voice that day, to witness no fear in that pavilion.”

“A mother’s confidence is contagious,” they both said at once.

“He will look to you most of all during the first of the ritual lighting prayers,” one sister predicted. “That is when you must be at your most attentive.”

“After that, there is much repetition to the ceremony. As long as he is able to complete the opening, the rhythm will become much easier for him.”

“You think so?” the Fire Lady asked, her back to them, running one finger along the point of her chin.

“Yes, your highness,” both answered.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence,” she smiled faintly, amber eyes still fixed on their chosen square.

“You are wise to perform this sacred rite anew, Lady Ursa,” one of them told her.

“For generations, it brought peace and comfort to the bereaved of the royal city.”

“Such things are sorely needed right now,” both concluded.

The Fire Lady wondered how they did that.

“We are glad to see it return after so many years of absence. So too will be the rest of the nation,” one twin predicted.

“And we hope to see the fullness of it again, in time.”

“Fullness? Are you implying my son’s efforts are inadequate?” Ursa half-rounded on the elderly women, her brow creasing slightly.

“Of course not, your majesty,” the one that was presumably Lo said, bowing her head.

“We meant no offense,” the other did likewise. “We are certain Lord Zuko will perform admirably.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she turned back away.

There were a few moments of quiet atop the balcony, where the only sounds came from the early winter winds and omnipresent backdrop of the capital’s lively daytime streets. Ursa continued to stare down at her chosen stage, pondering the imminent future.

“The Rite of the Spirit Lamps is ancient and honorable.”

“And while we are certain your son will perform his role admirably…”

“This one will not be quite as it once was,” one pointed out.

“But what is missing is not his majesty’s fault,” the other sister added a little hastily.

There was another moment of near silence.

“Still, we cannot forget…”

“That in the fullness of the rite…”

“The Fire Lady plays a role as well,” the twins said together.

“She brings forth the hope of rebirth onto the stage, to be beheld by all.”

“You’re referring to the Fire Lord’s wife, not his mother,” Ursa turned to them and smiled a bit ruefully. “One can hardly substitute one for the other.”

“Well, he may be a little young for that now,” one of the twins smiled back, a little slyly.

“But I’m sure his highness will make some very fortunate lady very happy.”

“One day very soon,” Lo and Li finished as one.

Ursa supposed that it would soon be time to start thinking about arranging Zuko’s marriage. Briefly, she considered what she knew of the available young high society women in the capital, then wondered if there were any eligible foreign noblewomen of appropriately high station that were about her son’s age. Hadn’t there been talk of some “moon-blessed” young princess to the far north a while back? She’d have to have military intelligence look into that.

Chapter Text

The royal city, Lady Kai’an thought, had outdone itself.

One simple announcement in the court, and the whole capital city had seemed to drop whatever it was doing in a race to buy even newer, better white garments. Her own warehouse stocks of un-dyed silk had sold out within a day and half, necessitating emergency imports from sources in the colonies. The thirty-one-year-old head of House Meili was dressed in mourning white in accordance with ancient custom, her silk robe accented with swirling patterns of rich gold and a very pale pink sash. An expensive comb of platinum and mother-of-pearl, artfully shaped into an appropriately pale flower, sat atop her elaborately styled shining black hair. All around her were hordes of people in similar attire, all competing to simultaneously show off the most expensive and elaborate ritual attire that they could afford while maintaining the almost ostentatious degree of colorless humility that this occasion was meant to command. It was a balance some achieved better than others.

Just as with the people themselves, the architecture of Caldera had gone into overdrive in making itself ready for the Fire Lady’s chosen festivities. Lanterns, both of silk and of metal, were everywhere, ranging from bog-standard military designs churned out by the thousands in the industrial works to colonial imports of exotic styles to handcrafted artisanal pieces painstakingly sculpted at a breakneck pace. Entire strings of silk and paper lanterns hung overhead, upon and between the many mansions, villas, and high-end shops. Each and every one contained at minimum the name of a soul lost to the war since the last time Azulon had led this ceremony, while many of the more elaborate constructions featured short descriptions of deceased’s accomplishment or even entire engraved biographies. In accordance with protocol, though the sun was already beginning to sink below the horizon, not one was yet lit.

The lanterns were hardly the extent of the décor, though. Portraits of the distinguished dead, while not quite as omnipresent, were likewise visible all throughout the city. From life-sized portraits of famed generals and admirals to humble busts of corporals and privates, their silent faces leant humanity to the faceless dead in whose name this great ritual was to be carried out. Black characters on white banners proclaimed the names and honored deeds of entire regiments lost, ships sunk at Ba Sing Se and during the three decades prior. Regimental flags, many still bearing their own battle scars, flapped proudly from atop the city’s multitude of pagodas. Even the city’s many upscale restaurants, tea houses, and wine shops had gotten in on the festivities, swapping out their usual lavish adornments for more simple, tasteful styles and portraits of their own. Though the imposed modesty didn’t stop them from purchasing extra stock nor setting out excess tables well out into the streets, in anticipation of a night largely devoted to eating and drinking.

These decorations were not, as an outsider might mistake them for, symbols meant to invoke grief or pathos, tokens of the cost of war. Quite the contrary, these small shrines of the dead were places of honor, of which any right-thinking Fire Nation family would be proud, signifying a worthy death which any true soldier would respect. These men had given everything in service of Sozin’s great dream and achieved a worthy end, and for that their country would remember, honor, and celebrate them. The Fire Lord himself would recognize their valor and loyalty before the eyes of the entire world, in the process shepherding the glorious dead on to their well-earned reward. Some would be moved to grief, yes, but most would be inspired by the names, faces, and achievements of heroes gone by, fighting all the harder to carry on their legacy and uphold the honor of the Fire Nation.

Or, at least, that was the idea.

For herself, though, the noblewoman was little moved by the painted gaze of dead soldiers staring down at her from on high. Soldiers died in war, they had for the past ninety-five years and would continue to do so until their country won the war at the comet’s return. Such was the way of things, and there was little point in remarking on it. One may as well celebrate the tide for going out, or the rice grains for sprouting in their paddies. No, her thoughts this evening concerned a passing that was both far more significant and far less natural.

Lady Ursa was responsible for Prince Ozai’s death.

It was so obvious, at least to one in her position, that Lady Kai’an was genuinely astonished that no one amongst the stern-faced officers, ambitious bureaucrats, vainglorious nobles, and assorted tittering sycophants that made up the royal court seemed to have even suspected it. After all, who had benefitted the most from the prince’s passing? Was it not his wife, who could not only rule openly for several years to come but doubtless exercise great power through her son all the days of her life?

Had Lady Ursa been planning this all along? The older woman was so skilled at concealing her evident ambition that the late prince and the head of House Meili alike had dismissed her as a factor – merely a soft, subdued courtier of low stock, content to while away her days on trivial amusements, gossip, and children. Lady Kai’an could not be sure of whether Lady Ursa had somehow schemed her way to such a perfect position to seize power or if fickle fate had simply dropped the opportunity in her lap. What she did know was that as soon as Ursa had received the news of Fire Lord Azulon’s death so soon after Prince Lu Ten’s, she could not but have realized that there was only one thing standing between her and the Dragon Throne. What had happened next ought to have been obvious to all.

The why of it, at least, was quite beyond question. The noblewoman knew perfectly well from her own experience. When a woman was placed into a situation where she was at the bottom of the status heap, when all those around her were a constant reminder of her own irreparable inferiority, when even her own young children were to be placed above her, it tended to breed… resentment. Perhaps Lady Ursa had even caught wind of the fact that Prince Ozai had been considering getting rid of her once he was Fire Lord and had no further need to present the image of a perfect royal family to his own father. At thirty-seven she was well past the peak of her fertility, and she had irritated him more times than she knew.

Her “fellow” conspirators were scarcely better in that regard. Not once in all the time since the night she had presented herself, uninvited and unannounced, in their midst of one of their little gatherings, making herself de facto one of them, had any of them bothered to ask themselves who had killed their preferred candidate’s nobler brother, or why. They simply accepted that Ozai was dead, a prince of the Fire Nation murdered at night by an anonymous assassin, and that his wife had usurped the throne using an eleven-year-old boy as a puppet, and never once thought to connect those things. As if Lady Ursa could not possibly have pulled off such a daring and dangerous coup, merely because she was physically soft and personally ladylike, a mediocre untrained firebender past the prime of her life. Lady Kai’an was all of those things herself and not even a firebender at all, and if her father or mother could speak from the depths of their watery graves, they would have corrected such foolish assumptions.

The wide public square chosen for the rite was practically within spitting distance of the palace itself, that towering symbol of royal authority looming high above the swelling crowds. The stage itself was a multi-tiered beast of white marble and polished brass, its elegant form showing no signs of the rapidity of its construction. There were a dozen moderately sized ceremonial altars on its base level, carefully aligned in a ritually significant manner, then six more atop the second tier, then three on the third, and finally the zenith of the whole structure featured one massive red and black altar painstakingly molded into the orb-like shape of a traditional floating lantern. Stylized golden flames surrounded a silent hearth, which the Fire Lord’s own hand would ignite at the culmination of the ritual.

Even as the lady made her delicate, rather winding way through the thronging masses, what quiet voices still muttered to one another began to die away. In the distance, the reinforced metal of the palace gates ground open without even a hint of squealing. With just a bit of craning her head, the first of the palanquins could just be made out from where she was, Imperial Firebenders marching at its side and the ceremonial procession at its back.

In addition to the assembled might of the bulk of the nation’s elite firebending guards, the Domestic Forces were out in force this evening. Their black and dull red uniforms easily visible amongst the sea of white, the men and women charged with maintaining order in the capital mostly seemed to be acting as rocks amidst the tide, directing the masses of people this way and that. There were so many soldiers preoccupied with ensuring the meticulous seating arrangements were being respected, that the processional way was clear and open, that a respectful calm and quiet was maintained in the vicinity of their Fire Lord’s chosen stage that there were considerably fewer than usual actually out on patrol in the wider city.

Almost as if someone had set it up that way.

As she finally was able to take her reserved seat near the front of the proceedings, her two bodyguards ensuring she had an excellent vantage point with an unobstructed view, the head of House Meili allowed herself a serene-looking smile. Lady Ursa had killed the man who had given Lady Kai’an true power and freedom. The man who, however obliquely, had tantalized her with promises of even more. Therefore, Lady Ursa would pay. It really was that simple.

This Rite of the Spirit Lamps was boring.

From where she sat, enthroned beside her mother beneath a semi-open pavilion reserved exclusively for the royals’ use, Princess Azula had to make a conscious effort to keep herself looking appropriately poised before the masses. Mom was to blame, as usual, for accepting that stupid elderly minister’s idea to allow the people of Caldera a clear view of their rulers during the whole proceeding, supposedly to better ingratiate themselves into the popular consciousness by showing their reverence for the Fire Nation’s war dead. The princess sneered at the very idea. The masses were mere koalasheep, to be led with awe and worship and above all, fear. That was the lesson Ozai had taught, and that was the lesson his daughter clung to with all her heart. No, Azula did not care what her lessers thought, as long as they obeyed, had no desire to be liked by people that would always be fundamentally beneath her.

None whatsoever.

In a proper world, were Azula to have been forced to attend such a ritual (which she would not have been), then at least the pavilion in which she sat would at least have been properly enclosed for her comfort and convenience, and to better separate herself from inferior beings, who ought not even gaze upon her without her permission. As Mom was too soft, too eager to court the affections of those she ought to have merely commanded, the little girl instead had to make the effort to publicly comport herself as befitting one bearing the divine blood. The least that could be said was at least it wasn’t her up there on the stage performing for the fickle approval of the masses – though as the rightful Fire Lord it ought to have been if the ritual had to take place at all. Which it didn’t.

Speaking of said waste of time, how had such a thing come to be in the first place? A Fire Lord was meant to be all-knowing and all-powerful, the will of Agni on earth, bowing to none and bowed to by all. To this idea the Rite of the Spirit Lamps stood in brazen and obvious contradiction, featuring not only line after line of excruciatingly repetitious formal prayer worthy of a dusty old Fire Sage, but also the supreme ruler of the nation dipping his head to the honored dead. A Fire Lord, however personally pathetic, bowing his head. In public. Before the spirits of dead peasants who existed but to carry out his will. What madness had inspired this ritual? What lunatic ancestor of hers had signed off on this? Why had great Fire Lords like Sozin and Azulon allowed it to go on for as long as it had? Dad would never have succumbed to such lunacy. He would have abolished this thing forever had he come to the throne as he ought to have, of that she was quite sure.

As to the idea that Zuzu’s inane droning on somehow helped the spirits of the dead, what did that matter? Even if it actually did – and that was a big if, in Azula’s opinion – then so what? Dad would doubtless say that any soul blind or stupid enough to somehow miss the sun in the next world deserved to get lost in the mists, deserved to devolve into a mindless, hungry phantom, and who in their right mind could question that? There was no doubt at all in her own mind that Ozai’s spirit had found its way to Agni’s shining halls effortlessly and had been duly ensconced in a place of high honor there.

“…And follow the light of the Divine Forefather to your rest,” Zuko repeated the prayer for the umpteenth time, punctuating it by lighting yet another altar with a quick burst of red-orange flame from an outstretched palm. Azula rolled her eyes. They’d soaked the charcoal in there in so much oil that even he couldn’t mess it up.

As the altar caught fully alight, it added just a fraction more visibility to the public square. As tradition demanded, all other lights for several blocks around the ritual site had been extinguished and would remain so until the whole dumb thing had played out. Since the sun had already set, half of Caldera was illuminated by little more than the crescent moon and stars hanging overhead. As was only proper, no one else was permitted closer to the ritual site than the remaining royals themselves, both for security and lest the darkness should inconvenience them somehow.

Boredom gradually drawing her eyes away from her brother even if her head couldn’t be permitted to waver, Azula soon found herself squinting. With so little light beyond that cast by the altars themselves, it was hard to tell, but she could swear that she saw someone familiar in the crowded area opposite the pavilion. He was wearing the hooded cloak of a mourner and had his head low, but still… that was Uncle all the way over there amidst the huddled masses, wasn’t it? He’d declined to appear in the pavilion with the other royals, clear and visible to all in the growing light of the ritual, but had still wanted to be here, almost certainly out of sentimentality?

The princess snorted. How low could a former Crown Prince sink? If she didn’t need him for their ancestral knowledge…

“Let the fires of battle be the crucible that burns away all impurities,” Zuko was repeating again from upon the next tier of the stage. “Count these brave ones not among the transgressors but let the glow of sacred hearths shine upon those who gave their lives for the sake of us all. Be their shield against the Thief of Faces and the Mother of Ghosts.”

Boooring, Azula thought, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue.

The ritual went on. And on. And on. And on. Really, some part of the princess was grudgingly impressed that her brother was managing to keep it going for so long without any obvious stumbles, but then most of it was just him yammering variations on the same words over and over. The actual firebending required was strictly amateur level, and it wasn’t like he was maintaining the light of the altars by his own will or anything. He was basically a glorified iguanaparrot with a torch attached.

“By the right of the throne to which you were sworn, and by the sun’s blood that flows within me,” Zuko’s little performance eventually reached its climax with the elder of Ozai’s children standing atop the pinnacle of the white marble stage, the largest lantern-shaped altar lying open and silent before him, a flickering ember of orange and yellow cradled in both his cupped hands. “I bid you now: follow this light and be at peace.”

With those words, the child Fire Lord cast his little flame almost gingerly into the depths of the waiting maw, a small trail of sparks following it through the air. It all but vanished for the space of a heartbeat, before the entire faux lantern erupted into a blazing column of golden light, illuminating the crowded square as if a small echo of the Sun Father himself. Even from down below, with her eyes partially shielded by their pavilion, the young princess had to blink a few times to clear away the sudden onset of spots dancing across her vision. She had to squint a bit to make out her brother’s silhouette against the roaring bonfire and sniggered to see him hurriedly rubbing his own eyes with one hand. Hopefully other people would notice the family weakling’s little faux pas up there too.

If they did, no one was impolitic enough to actually say so aloud. There was instead a polite, subdued round of applause from the gathered masses throughout the packed square. It wasn’t an overwhelming storm of approval or anything, but this was hardly the time for raucous cheering anyway. Zuko turned his back on the brilliant beacon he had lit, walking to the edge of the pinnacle with his arms folded neatly behind his back, his face held in his best impression of lordly passivity. His sister sneered inside to see the telltale sheen of sweat visible across his carefully neutral expression – a real Fire Lord would be affected neither by the temperature nor the eyes of any number of inferiors upon him.

Beside the young princess, Mom made to rise to her feet. Traditionally the Fire Lord himself would give the post-rite speech to the capital, but as it was technically a wholly separate event from the actual sacred ritual, the regent acting in his name would be allowed to do it instead without thereby contaminating the whole thing’s supposed purity. Typical of Ursa to shield her weaker offspring like that. If it had been Azula up there – which it would not have been because this whole thing was a waste of time – then she was sure her speech would have gone down as among the greatest in Fire Nation history, leaving the masses both awed and thoroughly cowed.

As it actually was, Mother was no doubt about to ramble on for a good few minutes more about all the poor dead soldiers, who’d already had more than their fair share of honor heaped upon them tonight. They were all just tools in the end anyway, and the fact that they had perished rather than returning home as conquerors was proof enough of their serious deficiencies. Dead was dead, after all, and that was all there was to it.

Then why are you still so set on doing things Dad’s way? He’s as dead as they are. A small voice at the back of her mind asked her, only to be promptly ignored.

Azula reclined a little in her seat, just wishing something interesting would happen already.

Over the quiet square there came a sudden sound of muffled crackling, and the side of a nearby pagoda exploded.

It was so sudden, so seemingly random. One moment the building was just another quiet, dark, multi-tiered tower of white stone and red tile, and the next a section of wall five stories above the ground was all but vaporized in a split second. A shower of tiny, smoking, blackened bits of rock rained down on the stupefied crowd below. Reddish flames licked the floor inside of the massive hole in the pagoda’s side, casting just a little bit of light into the interior. Azula, sitting at what a highly drilled part of her was already noting was a suspiciously clear angle to the point of detonation, could just make out a hulking silhouette amongst the darkness, a metallic gleam standing out on its right forearm.

It had scarcely been the space of a handful of heartbeats, and already the square was buzzing with reactions. There was yelling, shouting, screaming. Parts of the outermost crowd were disappearing down alleyways, some ducking into the closest buildings, while others were responding the proper firebender way – with aggression. Even at a glance Azula could see men and women both, some in the uniforms of the Domestic Forces and some not, unleashing jets and streams and balls of red and orange and yellow, peppering the damaged pagoda with more flame both inside and out. Other soldiers had drawn swords or leveled spears in the direction of the building. The nearby line of Imperial Firebenders were rushing the ceremonial stage, all but falling over themselves in their haste to impose themselves between their Fire Lord and any potential danger. Even those closest to the Crown Princess and her mother had started in that direction, almost as if by instinct.

Azula was on her feet as well, out of sheer unconscious conditioning. Her eyes were darting from side to side just as she had been taught, taking in the crowds, the onrushing guards, calculating potential escape routes, imagining threat vectors, wondering-

At her side, Mom gasped.

“AZULA!”

The young princess abruptly found herself being full body tackled by the much larger Fire Lady, throwing both to the stoney ground in a painful heap, the woman’s body fully enveloping the little girl’s, blocking out everything else with the vision of her stark white and gold funerary robes. Fractions of a second later, the sound of sharp darts pierced the air around her. Her mother’s voice cried out, an incoherent, agonized wail, at roughly the same time as they were surrounded by the clatter of metal upon stone.

Squirming instinctively to get free of her mother’s seeming death grip, Azula found the older woman pulling her even tighter into her own flesh, both arms crushing the youngster so hard it was physically painful. She smelled something iron-like in the air. Craning her neck quite a bit, she saw that Ursa’s teeth were clenched tight enough that they looked as though they might crack, and tears were wildly running down her flushed cheeks, but her eyes were somehow still open. With visible effort her mother rolled over onto her side, in the process dragging her daughter further underneath her, putting a thicker shield of her own flesh between the child and the rough angle the attack had come from. Ozai’s daughter spotted the scattering of broken arrow shafts on the cobblestone around the pair at roughly the same instant as the rapidly growing pool of crimson by her mother’s side.

There was another, much louder crackling sound from overhead, and a shorter pagoda on the opposite side of the square had about half its top floor disintegrated in a second, much larger explosion. Bits and pieces of building rained down upon the scene, throwing everything into further confusion. There was more shouting, the hurried sounds of heavy boots racing across cobblestone, screaming coming from somewhere. But what drew Azula’s ears was the telltale grinding noise of stone on stone coming from somewhere directly behind her.

Still pinned right where she was against the regent’s chest, the princess’s head twisted around to look as best it could, just in time to see a tough-looking man, dressed in mourner’s white as were all the crowd, swinging his fist into a floating section of street about as wide as Azula was tall. The strike sent the stonework hurling towards the rear of the pavilion at the speed of a catapult shot, right at where mother and daughter still lay sprawled out in a growing pool of the former’s blood. Stuck where she was and much too small and slow to plausibly avoid it even if she were not, the saucer-eyed girl’s heart skipped a beat.

A strangled cry tore itself from Ursa’s lips. There was a sudden flash.

Mom’s fire was literally burning white-hot.

There was no subtlety to it, no refined technique or even the most basic semblance of a formal kata. Ursa, left arm still wrapped firmly around her daughter, blood still flowing freely from the wound in her side, had simply thrust her right hand forward with fingers splayed out and palm open, and was spewing a wide, wavering cone of fire into the air at everything in front of her. The little girl could feel the searing heat of it from the vice grip that pinned her to her mother’s chest, could hear the furnace-like roar of it pounding against her eardrums.

The flames looked like nothing so much as raw, concentrated starlight, disintegrating what little of their semi-open pavilion stood in their way and consuming the world directly in front of the pair seemingly in its entirety. It was almost blinding in its intensity, swallowing up the vision of hurled masonry almost as a matter of course. Part of Azula was still tensed up, unconsciously waiting for the hunk of stone to impact, to crush them both where they lay flat on the ground, but it never came. A shower of blackened, smoking pebbles rained down atop them both instead, stinging hot to the touch even for a firebender.

Of course, Ursa couldn’t maintain such a ferocious spray of flames for long. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds before the wild cone guttered, first returning to the usual soft yellow color before rapidly folding back into its source, leaving the Fire Lady looking almost comical, wide-eyed and thrusting an empty, smoking palm wildly into the air. Sweat poured down her mother’s flushed face in a veritable cascade, and she was breathing so hard she seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. Spots danced across Azula’s vision, and she blinked several times out of sheer reflex.

As she did, she realized that the Imperial Firebenders were already counterattacking. At least six of them, working in pairs to hurl charged, man-sized orbs of yellow and orange right back at the now revealed earthbender. He pulled a jagged shield of stone spikes from the plaza’s ground, thick and more than a foot taller than himself, but it was pointless. The very first fiery projectile smashed through his defense with the force of an angry sun and sent his smoking form hurling back across the square. He was probably dead even before the second combined attack exploded directly atop him, and definitely before the third reduced his body to something resembling nothing so much as a human-shaped lump of charcoal.

More guards of the Royal Procession appeared in her vision, racing up onto their pavilion from all sides. Numerous masked men physically interposed themselves all around the Fire Lady and Crown Princess, while others worked feverishly to haul both to their feet. Even wounded, bleeding, and visibly exhausted, the young men of the guard had to work at it to pry Azula lose from her mother’s iron grip. The princess, still in more than a little bit of shock, said nothing herself, and offered no resistance.

Men fussed over her, frantically checking her blood-soaked white clothing for punctures, for wounds. They asked her questions that she only half heard that she answered automatically in a rote voice only by dint of long training. Other men were clearing the pair of them an escape route, bulldozing their way through any hint of resistance with the frenzied urgency of men whose honor was on the line. For her part, the young girl’s attention was most thoroughly fixed elsewhere.

In the sheer brightness of the still-lit ceremonial altars, Azula could make out flashes of bone amidst the rivers of blood still streaming from Ursa’s side even as the guards tried hard to staunch them, a deep gouge running across the ivory, but nothing embedded there. It took her quick mind just a moment to realize what had happened: the arrow had struck the woman’s side at an angle, slicing through robes, skin, and muscle before being mostly deflected off to the side by one of her ribs. The Fire Lady had gotten very, very lucky in exactly where the projectile had struck her. It took her just a moment longer to figure out that the older woman could not possibly have known that that would happen when she leapt to shield her daughter.

Azula felt a strange and unfamiliar heat burning inside her little chest, as the logic took her to its inevitable conclusion. She stared up at her mother’s wounded side with wide eyes and an open moth, taking in the torn, stained robes, the long gash, the still-leaking blood.

Ursa had been ready to die… for Azula.

“You… did well,” a visibly paler Ursa said to the towering assassin, perhaps an hour, several emergency stitches, and a change of clothes later. “You did very well. Were it not for your actions, my daughter and I might very well be dead.”

“My apologies that I wasn’t there more quickly,” he replied, looking between the ten guards each within three paces of their lady. “A man took longer to divulge the details of what they had planned than I expected. If I had known sooner, I would have warned you.”

“You would apparently be the only one,” she said, her voice unfeignedly bitter.

If any of the Imperial Firebenders took that as an insult, none of them showed it. All remained unmoved, clustered protectively around her soft chair in concentric circles. It spoke to the depths of the shame that they must have felt over that night that none had dared voice even a single objection to her summoning a deadly assassin into her presence mere minutes after surviving yet another attempt on her life.

“They tried to kill my daughter,” the regent continued, taking a moment to wipe traces of sweat from her brow with a long, crimson sleeve.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“But not one made an attempt on my son.”

“They never intended to.”

“Explain,” she said, a deep frown etched upon her face.

“I can’t tell you their motives,” the mercenary replied. “Only their plans. You were meant to die upon that stage as you gave your speech, a volley of arrows embedded in your back. Your daughter was to die to another volley from the second tower, signaled by the first group loosing arrows at just the right moment. The earthbender in the crowd was a backup, just in case either group of archers couldn’t quite complete the task. I learned all of this only minutes before the attack, so I eliminated the first group in hopes that it would cause the others to abandon their parts of the plan and attempt to escape.” His cool gaze swept up and down the wounded Fire Lady’s pallid, exhausted-looking form. “I regret that it did not.”

“So, then, who were these… exceptionally bold attackers?”

“Former soldiers out of the Earth Kingdom’s military. Each and every one carried a long and bitter grudge against the Fire Nation – they were more than happy to risk their lives for the chance to avenge themselves on our nation.”

“And you know all of this…” Ursa raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“I managed to track one of their number down in the back alleys of the royal city earlier this evening. He was reluctant to talk,” the huge man held up his gleaming metal arm, “but I have my methods.”

Ordinarily, such a statement might have caused the Fire Lady Dowager to blanch. Might have gotten the man a reprimand. But not tonight. Her frown only deepened.

“I see…” she said instead, with a simple nod.

There was a brief, pregnant period of silence.

“These foreign men… they could not have made it all the way into Caldera City on their own, much less gotten within sight of the palace walls. Our security is far too tight for that.”

“No,” the towering man shook his head just once. “They had help from inside.”

“Tonight, one of my children had to be physically pulled off of me in the palace infirmary. The other left my side covered in blood.” Ursa’s tone was deep and silky, her pale fingers folded together and a gleam visible in her amber eyes. “Tell me who is responsible for this.”

“I have names,” he answered, his voice cool and dispassionate.

The gleam in her eyes grew noticeably brighter.

Chapter Text

“Mom does care about me…” Azula repeated the mantra to a dazed-looking young girl staring back out of the mirror. “Mom does care about me…”

She’d run through the scene in her head a thousand times or more. There was no out to this conclusion. There was no way to impute cunning lies or soft sentimentality to Ursa’s actions. There could be no accusation of cowardice or weakness, not in the ultimate act of bravery in the face of death. There was only logic of the coldest and most calculating nature, the sort of which Father had been so proud, and the one utterly unavoidable conclusion it led her back to over and over and over again: that one didn’t die for a monster.

Azula… had been wrong.

And she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

The little girl, having been thoroughly inspected for injuries, vigorously cleaned off, and now dressed in a fresh set of maroon-colored bedclothes, stood staring blankly at her own reflection. Her guards of the Royal Procession were stationed just outside her bedroom door, and only then after having thoroughly inspected the room, with special emphasis on making sure the windows were secure. Then and only then had they left their charge alone to get some rest, but for her part she didn’t feel much like sleeping. So she just stared instead, the gears grinding mercilessly on inside her skull.

What did it matter, some part of her asked, if Mom had been willing to lay down her life for the sake of her daughter? The princess’s own situation remained fundamentally unchanged. She was still stuck under the rule of the Fire Lady Dowager, unjustly denied the role of Fire Lord that was hers by right. She was still in a situation where she was being denied the relentless pace of advanced firebending training that she had known for years, still being made to waste parts of her day on things like art or music or etiquette. Did her mother’s would-be sacrifice even really mean anything, ultimately?

The strange warmth in her chest told her that it did.

It was obvious that it did, simple logic gradually informed her the longer that she considered it. What it meant was that Ursa’s advice, her admonishments, her chosen classes, her rewards, even her punishments, all of them were sincerely intentioned. That her mother really did think that restricting her firebending training to the ordinary amount given to advanced students, filling the remainder of her days with more than just the classes on politics, strategy, and history that Ozai had had her spend all her time on, really would make her daughter’s life better. That these things would somehow, in some way, ultimately serve to make Azula happier. For if the older woman cared more for her own benefit than the princess’s, then she would have simply let the monster-child get riddled with arrows and saved herself. Then she could have devoted all her time and attention to making little Zuzu the ideal puppet.

Would Dad have done the same thing Mom did? Part of Azula wondered, her mind’s eye returning briefly to the day the world turned upside down, to Ozai’s response to being ordered to kill his own son. Would he have reacted any differently had it been his daughter’s head on the chopping block instead? He had been ready enough to sacrifice one child merely to preserve his place in the order of succession. To preserve his life?

Most of her didn’t care to dwell on that question, though. For if the answer was indeed what some cold-blooded thing nestled in the pit of her stomach guessed that it was, what did that say about the sincerity of Ozai’s own lessons? About whom they were ultimately meant to help? Azula’s reflection shook its head once.

Even if Mom thinks she’s doing the right thing for me, she’s wrong, the little prodigy concluded. She has to be.

Azula still needed power for… something. She wasn’t exactly sure exactly what that something ultimately was right at the moment, but she was still sure that she needed more of it. There was some grand destiny ahead of her once she sat atop the Dragon Throne. Nagging questions about what exactly she was meant to do once she had acquired ultimate power in a world where the war was already won could wait. Would be made to wait.

Ozai would say that she needed to focus. Doubts… fears… feelings… all of these were distractions from the true goal: the acquisition and maintenance of the power that was hers by right of blood and right of long toil. Azula had to be strong, had to bite back uncomfortable trains of thought that would hold her back from achieving her destiny.

Azula stared into her own golden eyes, hand slowly curling into a fist. Breathe. Focus. Power above everything. Remember her plan. Firebending power would have to come first, and then political power would follow as naturally as Tui followed Agni through the skies. Lightning was still the ultimate expression of that future, a secret that she still needed to pry loose from Uncle. But after what she had seen tonight, the young prodigy had an inkling that it might not be the only hidden technique she would do well to ferret out.

Perhaps the pure white flames Ursa had conjured in their mutual defense were indeed less hot than the legendary blue fire they said Grandfather Azulon had been able to create in his younger days, if the stories they told about his azure blaze were to be believed, but the white-hot inferno was still well beyond anything that a mediocre firebender like Mom should have been capable of producing at all. Even Dad had never displayed any actual flames with that amount of sheer intensity to them. It was, like it or not, a potent display of raw power coming from a thoroughly unexpected quarter.

How had the Fire Lady done it? How could such a mediocre base talent for firebending, utterly un-honed by any proper combat training across more than three decades of existence, somehow have translated into an attack of such blistering force that, even wild and utterly unfocused, it had reduced a chunk of stone far larger than her own body to a handful of charred pebbles in the blink of an eye? And more importantly, if this unknown technique of Ursa’s could elevate her own amateurish bending to such heights, then what could it do for a truly prodigious bending talent like her own? Surely this would be another avenue worth looking into.

And since it seemed Mom really did care about her, then perhaps the whole thing would be easier than it might appear.

“How could you do this?!” General Iroh’s voice was audibly cracking as he yelled, tears running down the sides of his flushed face. His fists were clenched so tightly that his arms visibly quivered. “I told you – told everyone – that I wanted nothing to do with that damnable chair, and you attempt to murder my family over it?!”

Down, down, far below the surface of the earth, lay the Fire Nation Royal Palace’s dungeon. It wasn’t an especially large complex, boasting only a dozen holding cells of modest size and a pair of interrogation rooms, all composed of immaculately burnished dark grey steel and lit by simple oil lamps. Only one of those rooms was in use tonight, but it was packed. Two prisoners, one in the handsome uniform of his station and the other immaculately tailored white and pink robes, knelt on the hard metal floor with arms and legs thoroughly bound. No less than six masked men of the Royal Procession standing with arms folded behind their backs. One furious-looking former Crown Prince. And then, adding to that, through the open door came two more of the Imperial Firebenders, one carrying an incongruously plush chair with him, the other supporting his lady on one shoulder.

“I did what I had to do, for the glory of the Fire Nation,” the older of the two prisoners answered firmly, his eyes scrupulously avoiding the general’s, opting to glare instead at the new arrival as she alone of the assembly sat down.

“You tried to kill us,” Ursa replied before Iroh could, settling into her chair, her face cast into shadow by the low light of the lamps. “You tried to kill my daughter and I.”

“I did only what I had to do,” the old man repeated.

“You wanted to make me Fire Lord, and you deliberately disobeyed me!” Iroh shouted at him, smoke pouring from the old Dragon’s nostrils. “You wanted me to be like my father?! How do you think he would have dealt with something like this?!”

“I’m not much younger than his late majesty. The little enough time I have left I would give gladly to see the Fire Nation back on its destined path.”

“I see that you’re rather quiet,” the regent interrupted them. “Lady Kai’an of House Meili, whose vessel ferried the men who made the attempt on my daughter’s life into the heart of our nation in greatest possible secrecy.”

“I have nothing to say to the likes of you,” she responded in a tone so low it was almost a growl.

The lady was immediately struck on the side of her head, open-palmed, by one of the nearby guards. She gave a small gasp of shock, bending over double and briefly squeezing her eyes shut.

“You will show proper respect,” the firebender declared. The lady opened her eyes and turned her glare towards him but held her silence.

“And, of course, there is Minister Xi, whose ministry warded off all of our port inspectors, and saw to it that each and every one of my would-be assassins had clearance papers of the highest level,” Ursa unfurled up a single rolled-up sheet of dull looking paper, stamped with all the proper bureaucratic seals. “Even official permits to carry weapons within Caldera itself.”

He blinked. “How did you-”

“You really shouldn’t have tried hiring that metal-armed assassin,” she informed him.

From where she knelt, Kai’an gave her co-conspirator the evil eye.

“How long…” Iroh growled. “How long have you been trying to kill them?”

“My lord,” Xi sounded genuinely uncomfortable, “I-”

“Long enough,” Kai’an answered for him, her tone grim. “Don’t waste your breath on excuses. They won’t do either of us any good.”

“They might,” Ursa lied. “If you prove cooperative enough.”

The other noblewoman just glared at her, saying nothing else.

“You say that you are loyal to me,” the old general spoke up again. “Then I order you, as Fire Lord Azulon’s firstborn son, and your so-called rightful heir, to tell us everything.” His voice was dangerously low. “What have the two of you done? Who plotted with you? Why did you not just listen to me?!”

“I… no,” Xi shook his head, with visible reluctance. “I won’t do it. I can’t do it. I won’t betray the true,” he gave a soft, sad-sounding sigh. “Not even for you, my lord.”

“Very well then,” Ursa responded before Iroh could. “Seal your own fates. Even without your confessions, we still have more than enough evidence to tie the both of you to the attempt on our lives at the Rite of the Spirit Lamps, the earlier attempt on me by Lee Xunsu, and…” her eyes glittered in the lamplight, “the murder of my husband.”

“What?!” the minister sounded genuinely baffled. “We didn’t have anything to do with-”

“Silence your lies!” a guard of the Royal Procession barked, just as he drove his boot into the center of the man’s back. The old bureaucrat was thrown to the metal floor, where he lay in a moaning heap.

“What kind of a fool do you take me for?” The pallid regent snapped down at him from where she sat, venom audible in her tone. “You wanted to place General Iroh on the throne, and Prince Ozai was the first man standing in your way! I found my husband dead with a dagger in his back – the very first assassin that struck against me used poisoned throwing knives! Obviously, you sent the same agent back to continue his work! You’ve shown before the eyes of the whole world that you have no qualms about killing those of Agni’s blood – even the children.” She shook her head, and a deep crease formed on her shadowed brow. “After tonight there can be no question of who it was that was really responsible for Prince Ozai’s death. It doesn’t matter if you confess to it or not. You provided all the proof anyone could ever need.”

There was a brief, tense moment of silence throughout the interrogation room. Beside the Fire Lady, her brother-in-law’s eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth ground together, his frown deep it seemed to have canyons. The Dragon of the West’s fists were likewise clenched, both so tightly that they visibly quivered.

“Ursa killed Prince Ozai,” Lady Kai’an suddenly spat up at her captors, eyes darting to General Iroh. “She murdered her own husband, your brother, to usurp his throne, and you fools are all too blind to se-”

If the noble lady had expected her social standing, or her gender, to afford her any leeway with the guards, she was quite mistaken. The head of House Meili was struck abruptly from behind, pitching her forward on the hard steel floor with such force that her delicate nose audibly broke. Even so, even lying flat on the floor in a growing pool of her own blood with hands bound firmly behind her back, her grey eyes glared up at the older woman in an expression of defiant hate.

“I don’t care about your lies, and I don’t care about your excuses,” the Fire Lady hissed right back at the other noblewoman.

You tried to kill my child. There is no forgiveness for that crime. None.

Neither of the prisoners, both lying in heaps on the floor and one with her nose broken and bleeding, were in any condition to respond.

“The only question, it seems,” she continued, “is how many more of you roachrats we are going to find infesting this fair city.”

The night that followed would be long indeed.

When a noticeably pallid-looking Ursa next caught up with her firstborn the following morning, it was with dark rings under her eyes. Zuko was in his etiquette class when she found him, the young Fire Lord learning the proscribed behavior for the thousand and one different sorts of people he might find himself in contact with over the course of his life. Today’s lesson was all about formal teas ceremonies and who was, and was not, allowed the privilege of participating in the events with him, who was permitted the right to attend and fill the cups, as well as the proper way to extend an invitation to those whom he wished to formally honor. It was, she imagined, not exactly his favorite course.

“Mom!” his golden eyes lit up the moment the classroom door slid open, and he was halfway to his feet before she had even taken a step inside. Her son rushed to her, ignoring the weary sighing of his tutor, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “That cut looked really bad, but the guards wouldn’t let me stay, or come see you. I-”

“Unh… Zuko…” Ursa grimaced. “Please, dear… don’t hug me there.”

“Oh!” Her son released her and immediately took several steps back, cheeks flushed. “Sorry! I just couldn’t see, with the red robes and all…”

“A Fire Lord ought not to apologize before the eyes those of low rank,” his tutor reminded him from behind, a little frown on her face. “He represents the will of Agni on earth to the nation and must carry himself as befitting one bearing the divine right to rule.”

“R-Right,” he nodded once, a little awkwardly. “S-” he began, but immediately caught himself.

“You don’t need to apologize in the first place, I know that you were just worried about me,” she told him. “Just please, for a little while, no touching, alright?”

“O-Okay,” he nodded firmly, just once. “I’ll definitely remember that. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she smiled reassuringly.

“Will you… be alright?” he asked.

“It’s… a little sensitive right now,” his mother explained. “The physicians say it will take a few days to regain all my color, and some weeks to fully mend.” She put on a faint smile. “But the wound bears no signs of infection. There will be some scarring, a lingering scrape on the rib, and perhaps a little bit of difficulty fully stretching out my right side. But nothing more. Yes, my love, I’ll be alright.”

Zuko promptly breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“What about you, dear? Are you doing well?”

“I mean… I guess so,” he said, looking up at her. “Nobody took a shot at me. I was just really worried about you.”

“And I appreciate that. Really, I do,” she smiled at him. “Remind me to hug you for it later.”

“Sure thing,” he said, smiling back.

“Zongying,” Ursa next addressed Zuko’s tutor, a round-faced woman of middle age. “I apologize for disrupting your lesson, but I do require a little bit of time alone with the Fire Lord this morning.”

“No apologies are necessary, my lady,” she sighed a little wearily and bowed her head in response. “I serve at your majesty’s pleasure.”

“My thanks,” she replied, standing aside to let the other woman pass.

The Fire Lady watched the veteran courtier gather up her notes and charts and shuffle them back into an impeccably neat stack, place an entire assortment of chinaware back onto a serving tray, and then proceed to calmly shuffle her way out of the relatively cozy reception chamber. One of the omnipresent Imperial Firebenders graciously held open the door for her. It was only when she was gone and the two were alone, save for their bodyguards, that the wounded woman’s amber eyes found their way back to her expectant-looking son.

Please, my love, Ursa thought to herself. Forgive me for what I’m about to do.

It was a truth that a child should not be made to learn, except in the most abstract of senses, until they were older. Forcing her to have this conversation much earlier than she’d intended was merely another crime to hang around the conspirators’ necks.

“I should let you know we’ve found some of the people behind last night’s attack.” The Fire Lady paused. “We believe them to have been responsible for your father’s murder as well.”

“Yes! I knew you’d get them!” he pumped his fist. “I knew you’d get revenge for Dad!”

If only you knew, she thought sadly.

“Now that we have some of them in custody,” Ursa continued, “and the rest are being hunted down as we speak, we have to think of what comes next. That’s what I needed to talk to you about.”

“Ok, sure,” Zuko’s voice sounded eager.

“The Fire Nation must see that its ruler-to-be is strong,” she said. “That he has the will to be the father the nation needs. That, after such a terrible attack, he will deliver justice to his people.”

“You bet!” her son nodded vigorously, balling up one fist in front of him. “Do you need me to read off a sentence or something?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Nothing like that. I don’t need you to do anything but be present.”

He cocked his head at her. “You mean like at an announcement or something?”

“Be present…” Ursa took a deep breath. “Be present at their execution, sweetheart.”

Her child’s bright eyes widened.

“The entire Royal Family must be there,” she explained to him. “After such a brazen and public attack on our dynasty, in the midst of a sacred ritual no less, the entire nation must see that we stand as one in condemning these traitors, and that there will be no tolerance for any such behavior. That there are no rifts among us any other such schemers might hope to exploit.”

“Do they… do they have to die?” the Fire Lord asked after a few seconds. “Couldn’t we just… put them in prison or something? Banish them? Don’t we have the Boiling Rock for people like that?”

“It will be quick,” she promised him. “We are not barbarians.”

“But… why?”

“Some people…” Ursa sighed heavily. “Some people are simply beyond any help in this life. They are too tightly bound to wicked desires, to harmful and stubborn ways of thinking, or even to hatred, cruelty, or madness. It is sad, but some people simply cannot be reached by anything we can say to them, and will listen only to the language of justice, imposed from above.”

Her older child was staring intently up at his mother, who took a deep breath before continuing.

“And some of those same people commit crimes that are beyond any forgiveness in this lifetime. Crimes that threaten the nation itself,” she told him. “Remember what I’ve told you before, Zuko, that we’re all connected to one another. The Fire Nation is like… one great body, and our family is its appointed head. An attack on us is an attack on the divine order that keeps our nation whole, prosperous, and happy. We must defend ourselves, not only for our own sake, but for that of our people as well, for what affects one will affect the other.”

Just as we must defend our people to truly defend ourselves, she thought, hoping one day her daughter would understand that.

“But if the Fire Nation is one body, then wouldn’t they be part of it too? Wouldn’t whatever affects them also affect us?”

“Well of course they are,” she nodded. “But by their actions, they have become… like an infected wound. They were once healthy flesh, but the wickedness of their thoughts and deeds has made them rotten. If nothing is done, if they aren’t excised, then their poison will spread throughout the nation’s body, and more of it will become rotten. Eventually, the whole body will sicken, and ultimately die. Does that make sense to you?”

“Um… sorta,” he said.

“If people see that those who commit such grievous crimes are not punished in proportion to them, those who behave rightly will become discouraged and lose faith in us. Lose faith in the Fire Nation. They’ll start to ask why they should do unpleasant but necessary duties for a land that doesn’t care enough for itself and its people to adequately protect them from such criminals, and eventually no one will. More and more people will be tempted to abandon their duties and embrace selfishness, or even become criminals themselves. The symbiotic reciprocity that undergirds our entire way of life will gradually fall apart. Everyone will suffer for it,” she explained. “Is that a bit clearer?”

Her son took a few seconds to mull it over. “Yeah, I think so.”

“And, when thinking about all this, it is important to remember that this one short lifetime is neither our beginning nor our end, Zuko. Avatars like your great-grandfather were only the plainest examples of the cycle of reincarnation, not the only ones.”

Zuko blinked. “The Avatar was my great-grandfather?”

Ursa cocked her head at him. “Avatar Roku was the father of my father, though he died many years before I was born. Have I really never mentioned that to you?”

Her son shook his head.

“Well…” she paused briefly, then shook her head right back. “I suppose we’ll have to discuss family history another time. For now, I mentioned him merely to make the point that even by putting these people to death, we are not forever denying them a chance to be better. Even the most ancient of ghosts may let go of their earthly tethers. And eventually, even the darkest of the penitential underworlds will release the souls of those who are willing back into the cycle, to be born anew.”

“Until they can finally prove themselves worthy of the Sun Father’s shining halls,” the Fire Lord recited. “And step into an even greater world.”

“I see you’ve been paying attention in your cultural studies,” she gave him a proud smile and ruffled his hair a little. “Well put.”

“Thanks,” he returned her grin.

“Once you keep all of that in mind, you can see how it is that putting these traitors to death can be an act of mercy,” she explained. “We limit the number of their transgressions, help to free them from the wicked and destructive ways of life they’re caught up in and hasten their path to rebirth. In this way, ultimately, we do a kindness not only to our people, but even to them.”

“It doesn’t seem like a kindness.”

“Sometimes, Zuko, the kindest thing you can do for someone is to come down harshly upon their crimes,” his mother said. “To show them, and others, the error of their ways. I know it can be hard, believe me, I do. But such is the way of the world we live in. As long as such deep wickedness exists, it must be fought, unrelentingly. I believe that to be one of reasons that the Sun Father chose to sire the line of Fire Lords to begin with.”

“You think so?”

“To uphold the rules of justice, to reward those who do what is right and punish those who do what is wrong, is a vital part of leadership. And it was for leadership that our family was given its great power and privileges. It is our duty, the Fire Lord’s duty, to lead as best as he possibly can. You do want to do your duty, don’t you?”

“Of course!” the aforementioned Fire Lord nodded vigorously.

“I knew you would,” she smiled affectionately. “You’ll make a great Fire Lord when you come of age, Zuko, I just know it.”

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, blushing just a little.

“You’ll do magnificently,” she told him with the utmost confidence. “You did when you performed the ritual for our war dead, and you’ll do it again here.”

For a moment, her son said nothing, and Ursa saw something in the way the corner of his mouth was pulled tight, the way his golden gaze wavered rather than directly meeting hers.

“This is for the greater good, Zuko. Just like the war itself is. Please,” she laid her hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, “tell me that you understand.”

There was another moment of silence, as the Fire Lord stared up at his mother’s face. With every ounce of self-control she possessed, Ursa kept her expression utterly unflinching. At last, her good child slowly began to nod.

“For the greater good,” Zuko repeated.

It’s like Lo and Li said – a mother’s confidence is contagious.

“So, can you do this for me?” she asked. “Can you stay by my side while these traitors are condemned?”

“I can,” he nodded again, with as much firmness as his young voice could muster, placing a clenched fist over his heart. “And I will.”

“That’s my boy,” she gingerly bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I knew I could count on you.”

Azula’s firebending was going well.

Ursa had arrived at her daughter’s early morning session with Master Zhaiten most of the way through the usual two-hour class and had been sitting quietly on one of the sparring chamber’s side benches ever since. In the center of the open stone chamber, separated from the exterior observation ring by a line of black marble pillars, her daughter was practicing the ninth and final set of katas from the Mantis Scorpion set. It was a style usually reserved for firebending students in their eleventh or twelfth years, but Azula was almost finished with it even before her tenth birthday. It was, by any standard, an impressive accomplishment to be so far ahead of her peers, and she was sure to smile encouragingly at the girl whenever her golden eyes drifted her mother’s way. Which was not often.

The katas of the Mantis Scorpion were all about using firebending for medium ranged combat, for situations where the opponent too far away for bursts and cones and fiery daggers to be effective but too close by for the more concentrated orbs of fire to be practical. Its teachings were, at least as far Ursa could tell, all about the utilization of fiery whips, whether it was a single one used to rapidly strike out like the eponymous creature’s poisonous tail, or a in a pair like its scything talons.

Today’s instruction was all about the latter moves. The Fire Lady watched the veteran Zhaiten going through the steps of the attack like it was an elaborate dance, a flaming whip three times as long as a man was tall held firmly in each hand. Each one was incredibly dangerous and, if mishandled, could easily wind up wrapping itself around its own wielder and searing their flesh, and yet the steel-haired, battle-worn firebending master made it look simple. The whips cracked around in intricate sequences, first one high, then one low, then both of them together from both sides, then switch which one came from where. It was a fast-moving, energy-intensive style of fighting designed to rapidly overwhelm those enemies who favored a more static, frontal defense, as did most earthbenders. By being rapid and unpredictable, it gave them no chance to steady themselves or counterattack, and by bending the flames to come from all angles seemingly at once it rendered their usual rock walls ineffective. That, at least, was how Zhaiten was explaining it.

For her part, Ursa’s daughter was a model of diligence and concentration. The whips she wielded were smaller than her teacher’s, more proportionate to her own body, but to the regent’s eyes there was otherwise precious little difference between the two. Azula’s face seemed to be all but carved into a mask of pure concentration, barely blinking, refusing to allow herself to look away from her moves as she went, even for a moment. Her footwork was impeccable, her advances precisely timed in exact accordance with the sequences that her instructor demonstrated. And most of all, her control of her twin whips was so precise that to the Fire Lady it seemed as though she was looking into a mirror. Blazing lashes of orange and yellow copied the teacher’s own strikes over and over and over again, first alongside him and later transitioning to do it on her own, seemingly without any flaws in the technique.

The reigning regent had every confidence that the princess would successfully master every kata of the entire style before she even closed out her first decade of life, putting her literally years ahead of the overwhelming bulk of her peers. At that rate she would earn the right to be formally acclaimed a master firebender before she had even reached her majority. She just wished that the girl would content herself with that.

There was nothing wrong with a lady learning to fight, if she wished to, but a monomaniacal focus on that to exclusion of all else spoke to something distinctly unhealthy in her child. Ursa truly didn’t understand why her daughter thought she needed even more firebending training than that provided by the nation’s advanced curriculum. What was she planning to use the results of such extreme dedication for, in a world in which the great war was already won? She’d never shown any particular interest in the peacetime applications of bending, whether aesthetic or practical. What did she envision herself doing as an adult if all she knew was fire and war – wandering the nation challenging random passersby to Agni Kais?

The idea that such an overemphasis was somehow necessary for the world as it existed was simply absurd. A girl as bright as her daughter surely couldn’t seriously think that after Ba Sing Se, after Lu Ten, that even a man like Ozai would have risked the future of the royal line by forcing its heirs – underaged heirs at that – to go to war at the eleventh hour. Let alone think that her own mother would. The war would be over years before Azula would even be of age to join those elite all-volunteer Fire Army units that accepted women. Even if she joined the army when she reached her majority, there’d be precious little for her to do with all her strength.

An undoubtedly prodigiously talented princess, a daughter of Agni, of Sozin, and of Roku’s lines alike, put through the exact same advanced courses that had nurtured generations of their nation’s top students throughout almost a hundred years of war, would undoubtedly become one of, or perhaps even the, most powerful firebenders in the world. What would she need more than that for, in the world of peace that was to come? It didn’t make sense.

There is one future where it would… something deep inside the Fire Lady reminded her.

Iroh and Ozai. An Agni Kai arena. Her children, battling to… battling to…

No, Ursa closed her eyes and shook her head, beads of cold sweat sliding down a suddenly clammy face. That won’t happen. I won’t let it happen.

Azula’s adult years would be spent in a world where the Fire Nation ruled all, in an age of peace and prosperity. Not a world at war. She needed to be prepared for that reality, even if right now she didn’t seem to realize that. Whatever path her life ultimately took, whether that be as a high-ranking member of the court, as the founder of a branch dynasty of hereditary governors in their conquered territories, an officer’s commission in the peacetime military, something more esoteric and spiritual, or even the simple life of a full-time wife and mother in her own right (however unlikely that currently seemed), she would need to know more than the arts of fire and battle. A girl as intelligent as her would surely accept and internalize that, in due time.

Azula continued training, neither looking at nor speaking to her mother, right up until the very last minute of her scheduled firebending session. Her expression of absolute focus remained unwavering throughout the many repetitions of the sequences, her control over the long lashes held tightly in both hands both crisp and precise. She moved across the stone floor with dancer’s grace even as a sheen of sweat coated her face and hands, and simply did not stop until the heavy steel and brass timepiece mounted on the wall gave its long, ringing chime to signal the top of the hour. Then, and only then, were the flaming whips allowed to disperse.

“Lady Ursa,” Master Zhaiten turned to her and bowed at the waist once they had finally finished. “It is an honor to have you in attendance this morning, especially after all that has just happened. I trust that everything was to your satisfaction?”

“Naturally,” she nodded, smiling politely. “From what I saw, my daughter’s training appears to be progressing quite well. You have my gratitude.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it,” he replied, bowing just a little deeper. “And I must return it – Princess Azula is perhaps the most attentive and hard-working student of her age that I’ve ever met. You’ve raised her well.”

I’m not sure I’m to thank for that.

“We all do our best,” she said aloud, before gesturing with one pale hand. “If you would please, Zhaiten, I would like a moment alone with my daughter.”

“Of course, my lady,” he bowed one more time. “Princess Azula,” he nodded at her. “I’ll take my leave.”

With that, the grey-haired firebending master turned on his heels, and briskly made for the sparring chamber’s exit. His stride was swift and efficient, and within a handful of seconds the heavy dragon-headed bronzed door was swinging ponderously shut behind him. Save for the pair of the omnipresent Imperial Firebenders stationed by the door, the regent and the princess were left alone.

“Good morning, Azula,” she smiled.

“…Mother,” Azula nodded, a curious expression on her face.

“I’m sorry I missed breakfast with you and your brother earlier today,” she went on, dipping her own head slightly. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“Well of course you were,” the little girl put a hand on her hip. “You almost died last night. It’d be silly to get bothered by that.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “Are you doing alright this morning?”

Azula shook her head. “I’m fine, the healers found nothing besides a few tiny red spots where those pebbles hit.”

Ursa, who had of course already known that, nodded at her.

“Are you feeling alright, though? Do you need anything?”

“No.” The little girl held her chin up high. “You saw that for yourself.”

“That was a very impressive display, dear,” the Fire Lady told her daughter. “You looked like you were performing the kata perfectly.”

“You didn’t-” the girl started, before seeming to think better of it. “I mean… thank you.” There was a moment’s pause. “But there’s something else you wanted to say too, isn’t there?”

If explaining these circumstances to an eleven-year-old was difficult and heartbreaking, then what of doing the same with a little nine-year-old?

“Azula,” she began. “Sweetheart, there’s-”

“Those people you caught… they killed Dad, didn’t they?” Azula asked quietly before Ursa could go on. “Then they shot you. They tried to shoot me.”

“…They did,” she nodded once.

“Then let me go to their execution… please.” There was a gleam in her eye. “I want to watch. I deserve to watch.”

The Fire Lady’s eyes widened. “Who… who told you that they were being executed?”

“No one,” the young princess answered promptly.

“Then how-”

“They’re traitors. Traitors die. It’s a law as old as the Fire Nation.” Azula sounded as though she were the one explaining something to a child. “You wouldn’t mess with that. You can’t let them get away with something like what they did. You’d never be able to rule effectively.” She looked right into her mother’s eyes. “Your children would never be safe.”

There was a momentary pause, as the two royal women sized one another up.

“And… what was it you said to Zuzu?” she seemed to consider it a moment. “That’s what Moms are like. If you mess with their babies…” she put a hand on her own chest, and there was an expression on her face that mother couldn’t recall having ever seen there before, “they’re gonna bite you back.”

The sparring chamber around them fell silent. The Fire Lady simply stared at her daughter. Her daughter stared right back. After a few moments, Ursa slowly began to nod.

The skies above Caldera City were dark and overcast. Unusually chill winter winds had swept in from the north, penetrating even the rocky volcanic wall surrounding the royal city that usually kept such things at bay. Those that had not been blessed with Agni’s gift would need their winter cloaks, and even those that were so gifted would feel the bite of the cold on their faces. The Fire Lady certainly did.

Ursa sat once more atop an enlarged palanquin carried atop a raised platform, though with the curtains drawn back this time, with Zuko to the right of her and Azula to the left. Iroh, once again, had his own separate palanquin. Though, like the rest of the royal family, he lacked the luxury of privacy. After the incredibly public attack and near death of two of the dynasty’s members, the whole city had to see them there, alive, whole, and wholly supportive of what was about to happen. The fact that she herself was still visibly an unhealthy pale color did not detract from the image – not when half the city had witnessed her acquiring her injury in shielding her daughter from harm, and then bending flames of stunning intensity immediately thereafter. If anything, her continued pallor only reminded the populace of how resilient their regent must be to still be present so soon afterwards, straight of back and firm of expression. Those who were parents themselves – which is to say, the vast majority of those of age – would likely feel some sympathy.

What remained of the nation’s ancient dynasty knelt in the shadow of the palace, the looming symbol of royal authority providing a suitably imposing backdrop to the event. The chosen location was the very same public square in which the regent and her daughter had been attacked, now cleared of the altars and décor that had characterized it during the sacred ritual. Not only was it conveniently close by and with room for all and to spare, the symbolism of reasserting royal authority on the very flagstones stained with the Fire Lady’s own blood had been too potent to pass up. Needless to say, the surrounding buildings had been thoroughly searched and locked down this time around.

Not far away from where the royalty sat waiting, a group of men and women were being frog marched out from the palace gates under heavy guard. Dressed one and all in the simple burnt red clothing provided to prisoners, all their finery taken and denied the right to form a topknot, the ragged band of the condemned wasn’t much to look at even before taking account of the heavy iron manacles clamped tightly around their wrists and ankles. One and all, their mouths were also fitted with gags – Ursa’s own decision. There would be no final public outbursts from the good Lady Kai’an or any of her cohorts.

Neither of the primary instigators had been willing to talk, but their various subordinates and catspaws were a good deal less committed to their cause – it wasn’t as though either the elderly and frail Xi or the delicately-built Kai’an had gone about personally executing any of their operations. Once the chain of causation located by Ursa’s mercenary had been firmly established, it had just been a matter of tracing the assassins’ path, seeing who had helped them make their way in. A few primary conspirators had soon been established, those whose orders had helped pave the way for her near-death.

There was Admiral Jinhai, with whom she had sat on several war meetings, on whose orders the naval patrols that might have inspected the assassins’ ship were removed from their usual routes. That one had been especially easy once they knew what they were looking for, since naval protocol meant that he’d had to issue the abnormal patrol schedule under his own name and authority, and have it recorded by their network of naval communication towers.

Lord Junjie of House Guang, scion of an old and distinguished military bloodline, whose family owned the private pagodas from which the former Earth soldiers had lined up their shots, both having been conveniently cleared of all possible staff earlier that day by his express orders. The staff from each building had each independently confirmed that the strange instructions to clear out and lock up in supposed preparation for the rite had come from him, and that such a thing had never been ordered before.

Lord Zura of House Shian, a young inheritor of a healthy number of colonial estates and whose family traditionally governed a fair number of coastal towns on the southern Fire Isles. The good-looking rake was most known for sweeping impressionable peasant girls off their feet but had made himself useful to the cause by sheltering the would-be killers inside his family’s ample Caldera estates. His servants had been more than ready to testify to the strange guests that they had waited on once it became clear who was asking.

Alongside these most prominent of the conspirators came a laundry list of personal aids, household attendants, lesser bureaucrats, lower aristocracy, as well as personal soldiery. Around thirty in all, mostly men but with a few women also in the mix, this group consisted of the former’s most immediate and relevant allies and subordinates. They were those who could, based on the mercenary’s testimony and the many raids and interrogations carried out since, be reasonably well established to have known about what it was their friends and superiors had intended, and to have made themselves complicit in it to one degree or the other. The wider network of agents who merely knew that they carried out something illegal for distant masters but not precisely what the end goal was were not in attendance. They would face their justice in the Boiling Rock or at other prisons, rather than on the executioner’s block. Those who had made themselves helpful to the investigation would find their sentences considerably more lenient.

It was not a good day to be any of the wretches. Almost everyone in Caldera knew, or was related to, at least one of the last thirty years’ worth of war dead whose spirit was being honored and shepherded in the Rite of the Spirit Lamps. Played off correctly, as the Earth Kingdom revenge attack it had no doubt been intended to portray, then it could have inspired a massive upswell in Fire Nation resolve, spirits burning with the need to avenge the violated dead by throwing themselves back into the war. As it was, though, the attempt had only brought the masses’ hate onto the plotters’ heads instead. The mothers and fathers, sons and daughters of the dead soldiers whose souls had just been profaned had turned out in their thousands. It seemed to Ursa as though all of Caldera City had come out on this grey and gloomy winter day, men and women hissing and jeering and shouting curses at the traitors who had dared violate their loved ones’ rest.

If those who merely lived in Caldera were furious, then those who worked directly for the state were apoplectic, or at least made the effort to appear so. With the power struggle well and truly settled, or at least apparently so, and with General Iroh’s obvious endorsement of the proceedings, the onus was on every man and woman under the government’s immediate purview to demonstrate their loyalty to the new order of things. Those whose style of robes identified them as from the Ministry of Domestic Affairs seemed to Ursa to be the loudest of all those present, spitting and screaming and hurling tirades of abuse at the man who, until a few days ago, had been their duly appointed leader for the last eight years.

Standing between the royalty and the masses were two lines of the ever-present Royal Procession, and an outer barrier consisting of men and women from the Domestic Forces. It was the latter that formed the grim processional way down which the condemned would be marched. But it was the former that would take center-stage here. After the debacle of having allowed their Fire Lady to come to harm, of having almost allowed their Crown Princess to be killed while under their direct care, the Imperial Firebenders burned with the desire to avenge their humiliation. And since asking anything more from Zuko than his presence and composure was the absolute last thing Ursa wanted right now, she had allowed them to have it. Their leader, in full uniform, with a scroll clutched in one hand, stepped out from among their ranks and onto the same raised platform as the royal family almost as soon as the last of the prisoners was brought out. The long-serving veteran of Azulon’s war had merely to raise his free hand, and most of the noise subsided.

“Of the crimes of high treason, of the attempted murder of the Fire Lord, the Crown Princess, and the Fire Lady Dowager,” the masked helmet kept Commander Aiguo’s face invisible as he read aloud the dreadful scroll, but the venom in his tone was obvious to all. “Of the murders of Prince Ozai, Lord Liu Lai, and Private Zhi of the Royal Procession. Of the profanation of a sacred rite and the attempted violation of the souls of the dead,” the old soldier looked up from the pronouncement, allowing his helmeted gaze to fall directly on the conspirators. “These have all been found guilty and have therefore been condemned to death.” His mask turned in the direction of the central square, where waited a bulky man with a heavy sword. “The sentence will be carried out immediately. No last words from such traitorous tongues will be permitted.”

With the sentence duly pronounced, no time was wasted. The former Minister of Domestic Affairs, hands still bound behind his back and gag still in place, was all but dragged from his place amongst the prisoners by two masked firebending guards. The boos and jeers of the crowd became even louder as Xi was hauled past their ranks, and one particularly outraged-looking grey-haired woman even threw some half-rotten fruit at the old man, which struck him right in the back. In another, lesser, more barbaric land such a display would have been drawn out, the prisoner purposely paraded up and down before the masses both as a chance for them to demonstrate their loyalty to their rulers and as a simple piece of sadistic theater. But this was the Fire Nation, and they were as efficient as they were above such displays of brute savagery. The masked men marched their captive across the square without delay.

The elderly bureaucrat was shoved none too gently down onto his knees, before a prepared grey metal executioner’s block, where a spring-loaded clamp promptly snapped into place around the very base of his neck. From the muffled sound he made, the device’s touch could not have been pleasant. At least it was a distraction from the ominously empty basket placed directly below his exposed head.

The looming executioner, his face concealed behind the uniform of the Royal Procession, proceeded without any ceremony. He walked right up to his victim’s side, a man with whom he had doubtless associated with many times during their mutual service to Fire Lord Azulon and showed no hesitation. The towering man hefted his sword high above his head. The polished steel blade was a bulky, oversized thing in its own right, ill-suited for combat but ideal for the purpose for which it had been forged. It was, if nothing else, a very quick and clean way to die.

The Fire Lady’s eyes flickered, momentarily, to her children. Zuko was kneeling with his hands pressed firmly onto his legs. His face was as impassive as could be expected under the circumstances, though tiny beads of sweat could just be made out along gathering on his face, in spite of the cold. Azula, by contrast, was leaning forward a few inches in her seat, her eyes narrowed and her hands clasped neatly together on her lap. Ursa returned her gaze to the main event.

The blade fell. The crowd roared.

For a split second, the corner of the Fire Lady’s mouth twitched upward.

“If you can neither locate nor stop nor even warn of an intricate assassination attempt on the royal family, in the very heart of Caldera City,” the Fire Lady asked Azulon’s old spymaster later that same day, “then of what use are you?”

This particular evening found Ursa seated back in the Fire Lord’s office, straight-backed against Azulon’s old chair in spite of the pain it caused her side, fingers steepled atop his desk. Before her, dressed in his usual unremarkable crimson and grey robes, stood the pudgy Royal Archivist, flanked on both sides by armored men. A slight sheen of sweat could be seen on his plain-looking face, and she doubted it was entirely due to the fire merrily crackling in the background.

“I did only as you bade me do, my lady,” Li Jie said, bowing his head with a look of contrition on his face. “You ordered that I should devote the Archives’ personnel to the investigation of Lee Xunsu, and in particular his time between his dismissal and his fatal attempt on your life. We have done so, and we have a file detailing the results of attempting to put together a coherent picture of his last weeks of life. Unfortunately, there are still numerous holes in the picture, times not properly accounted for, so I hadn’t thought it ready to present to you.”

“I also recall ordering you to maintain a watch on Lady Kai’an’s residence,” she pointed out. “And you never bringing me a single further report on the woman who turns out to have been intimately involved in the attempt on my life.”

“You ordered me to alert you should she receive abnormal guests or send her servants on unusual errands. Communicating with the captains of her own vessels was hardly unusual – she did so several times a week, whether in person or by servant whilst their ships were in the harbor or by hawk while abroad. You gave no orders that her every message was to be intercepted.”

“Must I hold your hand while you are about your own business?” Her brow was creased into a deep frown. “You are supposed to be the expert in domestic intelligence operations, yet it did not even occur to you or anyone under you that perhaps you ought to be investigating the contents of her orders? A lone mercenary, investigating totally bereft of the institutional support that you enjoyed, brought me orders of magnitude more usable intelligence on this subject than you did! He broke open the ranks of the conspiracy against my family!” The Fire Lady’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Tell me, did you evidence such terminal lack of initiative when serving Fire Lord Azulon?”

The chubby man’s face had by this time paled a little, but his response was still swift in coming. “Your majesty, you must understand that the mobile manpower under my command is distinctly limited. I had only so many uncommitted men and women that could be directed to an immediate investigation full-time, and many of those were occupied following your orders regarding uncovering the activities of Xunsu. Other, embedded agents cannot simply be pulled from long-term assignments without compromising strategic security-”

“Strategic security?!” she looked ready to explode. “My commands are not reason to neglect your most basic duties! Thanks to your failures, Royal Archivist, the only thing that stood between foreign killers and my daughter’s life was a patriotic assassin!”

The pudgy man opened his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He opted instead to close his eyes and bow his head.

The regent leaned forward, her eyes narrowed, and scrutinized her master of spies. She took in every detail about him, from his pale face and downcast grey eyes to his receding hairline and considered what she knew. There was no evidence from the searches and interrogations that had been carried out that connected him or anyone serving directly under him to any of the conspirators’ actions… but equally, he hadn’t come to her with any reports of any potential impending threats. Had it really all been one massive oversight on his part? Were Xi and his cohorts really that adept at avoiding detection?

Ursa remembered well the day of their first meaningful conversation, when Li Jie had bluntly told her that yes, he would have preferred to have seen General Iroh assume the throne. It could all be coincidental… or perhaps not. She had no proof of the matter either way. But she was in no mood to be rolling dice on her children’s future safety. He should just be thanking Agni that it was not her predecessor behind this desk tonight.

“You happen to own property over in the colonies, do you not?” Ursa asked in a voice that was suddenly level. “Inherited from your mother, I believe. One of your daughters is currently in residence there, along with her husband. The way I hear it, you’re soon to be a grandfather.”

His eyes widened a little, then he gave a cautious nod.

“Excellent,” the Fire Lady said. “Because in the wake of this embarrassing disaster, you are retiring to that overseas estate to be with your family, effective immediately. The Domestic Forces will see you directly to your ship as soon as we are done here.”

“But…” he began. “My lady, I-”

“Governor Liqin has already been informed that you will remain in residence there indefinitely, to look after your future grandchild. You will not be allowed to return to the home islands without my express permission,” her tone was cold and firm. “Do I make myself clear, Royal Archivist?”

“Yes, Lady Ursa,” he said, with audible reluctance.

“All of your estates and properties on the Fire Islands will be held in trust by the crown, until such time as it chooses to return them.”

And thoroughly searched. Ursa added mentally. While your underlings are duly questioned.

“An agent of my choosing will replace you in your former role. Hopefully, your successor will prove to be a little more proactive in dealing with any future treasonous plots.”

“I… understand.”

“Good,” she sat back in her chair and gestured towards one of the guards. “Then I believe that the business between the two of us is concluded.”

The former Royal Archivist said nothing more, merely bowing his head one final time as the waiting soldiers came forward to escort him from her presence. As she watched him go, she allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction. So long as the inquiry into his own activities showed him to be as clean in this matter as one could expect of a spymaster, then he would be free to live out his remaining years in the colonies. Should it come to light that he had been an accessory to treason, if only by strategic inaction, well then…

Had it not been he who had suggested throwing people off of ships?

It took two well-built men to heave the massive wooden chest into position, and when they did so the normally silent wooden floor noticeably creaked, even through the thick carpeting. The chest itself was a beautifully decorated piece of art, handcrafted from redwood and polished brass, its handles covered with carved metal scales, its top a coiled sea serpent rendered in bronze. Ursa was given to understand that Azulon had seized it from a merchant lord as one of his many prizes when he and his army had conquered Taku.

“Thirty thousand gold pieces for the successful identification and capture of those who sought my death,” Ursa said from where she sat on a plush and comfortable imperial red chair, masked guards never more than a few paces away. “You’ll find that it’s all there, exactly as I promised.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” the tall mercenary said, in his usual cool and detached tone.

Even a man as used to keeping a level face as this one undoubtedly was couldn’t quite keep his eyes from widening as the servants pulled open his reward, and the luster of stack upon stack of shiny, immaculate golden coins filled one of palace’s many side chambers. Ursa had absolutely no idea what he planned to do with it all – it being more money than many entire families would see in their collective lifetime. Beyond his modern and expertly made prosthetics, nothing about him indicated any expensive tastes. But as he stared down at the gold, she stared back up at him. For a little while, neither said anything.

“So…” Ursa eventually broke the silence. “What will you do now? That’s surely enough money for a comfortable retirement.”

“It might be,” he shrugged very slightly, not taking his eyes off his prize. “But it might be I’m not quite ready for that.” He looked up at her, and there was a knowing look in his dark brown eyes. “And it may be that you aren’t either.”

He’s more observant than he seems.

“Well then… if you’d be interested,” the Fire Lady continued. “I do have a further proposition for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your services have proven to be quite valuable to me. I have little doubt that I and my children will have need of such a talented and resourceful agent again in the future,” the Fire Lady told the mercenary. “How would you feel about a position on retainer?”

Chapter Text

Days earlier…

“Mom?” Azula asked, over a healthy breakfast of fatty fish wrapped in seawead, century eggs, steamed rice, pickled daikon, and miso soup. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can,” Ursa said, after swallowed, demurely patting her lips with a vivid red and gold napkin. “You can always ask me things.”

“That white fire you did… the other night,” the little girl asked, even while her brother continued scarfing down rice right across the table from her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even when I practiced with Dad. It was really something.” She leaned forward a few inches, consciously displaying a gleam in her eye. “How did you do it?”

Asking Ursa for her technique right here, right now was a risk, but a calculated one. Azula had already concluded that Zuko being right here with the two of them would make it more likely that Mom would disclose her secret. After all, that way both her children would have it, making it seem less like some sort of plot against her son. That time a few months ago when Azula had openly reveled in the idea of Zuzu’s death one night and threatened to maim her brother the very next day wouldn’t seem as relevant. The young prodigy was more than convinced that she’d get more mileage out of it than he ever would anyway.

“I just…” her mother appeared to consider it for a moment, “did.” She shook her head once and smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry if that sounds a little disappointing.”

“What do you mean you just did?” Azula frowned at her. “You used a firebending technique I’ve never seen before, and generated flames hotter than any the palace has seen since Grandfather’s younger days.” She made sure to sound impressed, before shaking her head. “But you’re not a prodigy like he was. You don’t have divine blood like he did.” She leaned forward a little more. “So how did you do it? There must be some trick to it. Zuzu and I could really use something like that.”

“Yeah!” Zuko added his voice in support once he’d finally finished gulping down his food, or at least most of it. “What you did that night was really cool. Master Akihiro’s never shown me how to make flames that hot. I wanna know the secret too.”

“There is no secret,” Ursa shook her head. “Or, at least, no technique that I know of.”

“I bet I’d make a better Fire Lord if I knew how to do that,” her brother offered up.

“And I’d tell you if I knew. But I didn’t know I could do that. I’ve never done it before.” Mom stood up and stuck out her right hand. A small cone of fire flared over top of their breakfast table, warming the room by several degrees. It was the usual soft yellow color that characterized all her bending. “You see?”

“That doesn’t make sense,” the princess frowned as Ursa knelt back down onto her cushion. “Firebending of that magnitude doesn’t just happen. There has to be some explanation for it.”

“Nonetheless, it wasn’t any esoteric firebending technique of mine. I promise you – I don’t know any.”

“So, what was it then?” she pressed the older woman. “It saved my life – both our lives. Who knows when we might need to know how to do it ourselves?” She gestured at herself, then at Zuzu.

“…Drive,” Mom concluded after a moment’s thought. “You both know that firebending responds to what you’re feeling in the moment. When I did that, all I wanted was to protect you, Azula. Everything in me wanted nothing more than to shield you. Right at that moment, you were my entire world.”

There was that strange burning in her chest again.

“And I suppose my inner fire just… responded to that. That really is all I can say on the matter.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

“It’s okay,” Zuko assured her, albeit not quite making eye contact when he did “…Would’ve been cool to know how to do that though,” he muttered to himself.

“I’m sure if either of you ever really need to, you’ll be able to call on flames like that yourselves,” Mom said in a soft, encouraging tone of voice. “After all, both of you have it in you to become much more powerful firebenders than me.”

Understatement of the century, Azula thought, as she delicately guided a piece of fish into her mouth. She sat back and looked away from Ursa, chewing her food in thoughtful silence.

Is Mom lying to me? Azula wondered from the middle of her stone sparring chamber.

The Fire Nation’s foremost prodigy was once more in the company of Master Zhaiten, the older man and little girl alone amidst the open chamber, save only for her ever-vigilant guards waiting beyond the circle of black marble pillars. Adorned in her usual fireproof training clothes and with an orange-yellow lash clutched tightly in one small hand, she gave her tutor at least the appearance of her undivided attention.

“This maneuver preys on the earthbenders’ straightforward style of thinking,” her teacher told her, wielding his own flame whip with an expertise born from years of battlefield experience. “They are used to consistency, to the solidity that characterizes their element. It is easy for them to project the same limitations onto ours.” His bending lashed out dozens of feet across the chamber, a lightning-fast series of cracks against an already badly seared training dummy in a simulacrum of Earth Kingdom armor. Crucially, Azula’s tactical side noted, the way he was controlling the extended blaze made it act as though it were a physical object itself – merely an especially long band of knotted cords.

“They so often forget the one of the most crucial facts about fire,” Zhaiten continued his lecture even with sweat glistening visibly on his weathered old face and his eyes locked straight ahead of him. He continued to strike at the simulated foe with one snap of the whip after another, the flames in his hand so hot that even a glancing hit would have been more than enough to leave devastating burns on the body of a non-firebender.

“It spreads.”

Without any warning, the very tip of the steel-haired man’s lash seemed to explode right in his opponent’s face. One moment it was lashing at the foe’s midsection like it was a simple physical object, the next it simply erupted in the manner of a long-dormant volcano. A man-sized cone of flames washed over the dummy’s armor and steel skin as Zheitan stealthily channeled all the energy of his bending right through the preexisting conduit of the whip. In the training room it merely added yet more fiery scars to the abused victim and surrounding floor – on the battlefield, the princess had no doubt that the surprise had been many a dirt soldier’s last.

Of course, there was a price to pay for putting all of one’s strength into such a sudden burst. The flaming whip itself dissipated in the old man’s hand, its equilibrium no longer sustainable in the face of such expenditure. For a moment, the pace of the offensive would have to slacken, as the firebender regathered sufficient chi to begin another kata. While the girl admired the guile and underhandedness of the move, she found the latter aspect considerably less appealing. What happened to those soldiers who tried the maneuver and for whatever reason failed to dispatch their opponent, leaving themselves temporarily overextended?

“Does that all make sense to you, princess?” he asked, dabbing his brow with the edge of one jet-black sleeve.

She gave the man a single nod.

“Very good,” he returned it. “Now, let’s see you try.”

Azula had been in the war veteran’s tutelage long enough to have gotten used to the pattern. After his initial explanations, the older firebender usually fell silent, preferring to allow the techniques to speak for themselves as they practiced them together over and over and over again, unless there was some significant mistake being made. This suited the princess just fine – after all, she didn’t make mistakes.

Even while she lashed out at a separate training dummy, placed proportionately closer than her teacher’s in deference to her smaller whip and frame – a luxury Father would never have permitted – part of the princess’ mind was given to other considerations. At the same moment her searing scourge was leaving simulated third-degree burns all over the enemy’s face and sides, she was turning over the problems of a wholly separate technique in her brain. It said quite a lot that only the culmination of the maneuver, the abrupt spray of fire that consumed the dummy’s body in its entirety, truly required her undivided attention.

“An excellent first attempt,” Zhaiten said, watching the inferno dissipate with gleaming amber eyes. “Almost perfect.”

“Almost isn’t good enough.”

“Quite,” he nodded, conjuring himself a new lash with a flick of his wrist. “Your final blow came a bit high. You need only to time the eruption slightly better. Get the full force of it right into the enemy’s face.”

Wordlessly, she nodded. A future favored technique or not, she’d walk barefoot into an active volcano before she’d allow any flaws to linger in her style.

“Once more, with me.”

Without hesitation, Azula drew yet another long whip from her inner fire, and promptly adopted an identical stance right beside her teacher. The veteran and the princess went through the motions of the set again, and again, and again, and again, all for their silent audience of masked royal guards. Sparks flew, stones blackened and cracked, steel wept greasy tears of melted fibrous armor. It was only when she watched herself becoming Zhaiten’s mirror image, rendered in miniature, for the twelfth time in a row that the princess allowed herself the luxury of any other considerations.

Had Mom lied to her? Azula had done everything that she could to minimize the chances of that. She’d specifically asked with her brother present to make it seem like it wasn’t done in any kind of effort to plot against him. She’d even made sure to emphasize that he’d get use out of the secret too, just to hopefully diffuse any lingering fears Ursa might have had about inadvertently encouraging her daughter’s plans to face her son in an Agni Kai when she was of age. She’d even reminded the Fire Lady that she might need the knowledge to save her own life one day – a life that the other woman had proven that she valued above even her own. And yet, still, Mom denied knowing any secret techniques. Her rational side had to admit that, under those circumstances, deception did not seem especially likely.

In the event that she was reading the situation wrong, the princess had at least set herself up an insurance policy. If she was being lied to, then it was almost certainly because her mother didn’t want to afford her any further advantage over her brother, out of concern for her favorite’s well-being. If that were indeed so, it was practically inevitable that she would share the secret with Zuko in a futile attempt to bring the siblings into some rough semblance of parity. Filling his head with the knowledge that she wanted the technique for herself would only encourage him to pester Mom about it on his own, which would in turn make it more likely she would fork it over sooner rather than later.

What Ursa probably wouldn’t consider is that once the secret was Zuzu’s, it was only a matter of time before it was Azula’s as well. It wasn’t like the dum-dum would be able to long resist showing off brand-new white fire where she could see it. He’d be so proud to finally one-up her in something that wasn’t meaningless, like swords. Even months of Fire Lord training hadn’t yet broken him of the habit of wearing his feelings on his sleeve.

With the possibility of Mom holding out on her dealt with to the extent that she could for the moment, Azula had to consider the other option: that Ursa was telling the truth. That the cone of white flames hadn’t been a result of any esoteric knowledge, but simply a consequence of Mom’s own determination in the moment.

She knew the importance of inner drive, of course. Every firebender did. Passion was utterly inseparable from their element. An absence of feeling, a loss of will, could weaken their inner fire or even extinguish it altogether until motivation was rediscovered. A wide variety of such drives could be channeled into bending, as diverse as the range of human emotion. Anything from anger to avarice to a simple desire to render one’s enemies into ashes, all could be used to empower one’s katas on the battlefield. And so it was not, the cold and rational part of her mind grudgingly conceded, in principle impossible that some other emotion could be substituted as fuel for the fires of battle.

There came a great boom in front of the princess’s face, as yet again she and Master Zhaiten detonated their twin whips at the exact same moment. A wave of hot, dry air washed over her already sweaty face. It was a comfortably familiar sensation. Almost relaxing, in its own way.

No, what really threw a wrench into that possibility was exactly what Mom claimed the driving force of that bending to have been. Alright, so maybe love was a sufficient force to impel someone to leap in front of a volley of arrows for someone else, but to empower firebending? To that extent? That sounded like a flight of fancy worthy of the Fire Dancers – an informal sorority of useless, mostly noble or at least well-off firebending women who, not being subject to conscription due to their gender, had chosen to waste their inborn talents on artistic pursuits rather than fighting. Many rather poetically claimed that it was their love of their craft that fueled their bending, that gave them the strength to wield their hypnotic rings of fire during their whirling performances. Hadn’t Mom said sometime that she’d been involved with some of those types as a teenager? Regardless, she’d never heard tell of any of them showcasing any particularly great power, certainly not to the extent of altering flames beyond their usual color triad of red, orange, and yellow.

Dad, on the other hand, had long said that the greatest drive of all was her will to be the best, to crush her enemies and see them grovel in the dirt before her, that they might never rise from the ashes of their shame and humiliation. It was that drive that would see her rise to the status of the most powerful firebender in the world when the time came – such a was a great truth that had underpinned her world for years. It was, after all, that very same drive that had fueled the unstoppable inferno that had been Ozai’s own firebending.

But you never saw him do anything like that, a voice in her head pointed out.

And I never saw him in actual mortal danger, Azula shot back at it. Maybe if he were, he’d have made the same flames.

And what if it was just you?

The princess refused to dignify that with an answer.

But the voice that was probably some stupid, immature, babyish part of her that she had yet to fully expunge had at least the semblance of a point. Azula had been in mortal danger in that moment, true, but so had Mom. What if the actual emotional impetus for the white-flamed inferno had been fear? The fear that only came from personally being in mortal peril? Fear was, after all, the most powerful emotion of all for the common hippocattle over which they ruled.

But… Azula frowned a little even while continuing to strike her target in perfect sync with her teacher. The replica Earth Kingdom fibrous armor was now so badly singed, seared, and melted that bits of it were starting to sag noticeably across the dummy’s metal body. A section of the left-side rerebrace was outright dangled halfway down its bicep.

There was a rather large hole in that theory. The Fire Nation had been at war for almost a hundred years straight at this point. There were many, many, many instances of firebending soldiers, many surely of equal or greater innate bending talent to Mom, placed directly in mortal peril each year. While, yes, not all had the luxury of seeing their doom coming, many did. If fear for one’s own life was the impetuous for the creation of white flames, then surely instances of such a feat ought to be relatively common. The Fire Army had abundant after-action reports describing many battles in great detail – she would know, Dad had had her read hundreds of them. And one thing that was noticeably absent among them were descriptions of sudden appearances of fire the color of starlight.

As she recreated a new whip for the umpteenth time, the little princess took the time to scrutinize her own conjured fire. Even more than she usually did, which was saying something. As she and her instructor once more drilled in the underhanded use of the lash, her golden eyes tracked her flames’ progress in excruciating exactness. She knew exactly what fueled it – it was her own determination to be the greatest firebender in Fire Nation history. To crush her enemies, to humiliate her rivals, to sweep away anyone who stood between her and the grand destiny that would be the ultimate reward of all her efforts… whatever that was.

Yet… here was the wrinkle. The long stream of flame that stretched out before her was primarily yellow, with perhaps the outermost third consisting of orange, and a little bit of red mixed in. She checked carefully, eyes darting up and down the weapon even while it moved, and confirmed again what she already knew: there were no flashes of white hidden in the mix. It was exactly as ordinary as it appeared to be.

Azula had more inborn potential than Ursa. A great deal more, considering she benefitted both from a divine lineage stretching back to Agni himself and whatever benefits there might be to her mother’s unknown ancestry. Azula had more combat training than Ursa. Literally years more, with far more hours sacrificed to it than even any other member of the royal family at her age, as compared to a highborn woman who’d never even cared enough to learn the basics. And yet it was Ursa, not Azulon, not Ozai, who had given the princess her first live demonstration of an inferno that burned like starlight. Even if Mom claimed she didn’t know how exactly she did it, even if she claimed that she couldn’t do it again, the fact remained that it had happened, and happened without any of the advantages the little girl or her father had possessed. How would the princess ever claim to have truly achieved the status of the greatest firebender who ever lived, if she were not even replicating a feat an untrained mediocrity could achieve?

Azula’s lips curled a little, and her slight frown deepened.

It was some time before the little girl found herself standing before an ornate door of black marble and brass, with a snarling golden dragon set into its center and writhing mass of metal fire snaking its way about the outer edge. Two Imperial Firebenders stood at attention on either side, a compliment to the pair that continued to follow her at a respectful distance. As ever, their masked helmets made reading their faces impossible, though they bent a little to track her. Azula stopped a few paces from the doorway, put her hands behind her back, and looked at the minions expectantly. One of the soldiers looked at the other. After a few seconds, the second guard nodded.

They apparently had no orders to stop her. That wasn’t particularly surprising. This was, after all, the first time the young princess had deliberately sought her mother out alone since the night Ozai had perished.

The first guard stepped up to the door, wrapped his armor fist against it three times, and upon hearing some muffled response from the other side gave single a satisfied nod. Without any further ado, he pushed open the heavy door with no more effort than it took to part the throne room’s curtains. The hinges supporting the solid chunk of metal and marble were so well oiled that they didn’t give off the slightest groan of protest.

It had taken the young girl a little while to come to this conclusion, but she’d eventually decided that it was at least worth a shot. If Mom really did think she was doing right by Azula, then maybe changing her mind was just a matter of convincing her that she wasn’t.

“Mom?” the princess asked, stepping through the portal into a large, brightly lit chamber filled with shelves stuffed to the brim with literature of all sorts.

“Azula?” Ursa looked up from where she sat behind Fire Lord Azulon’s ornate desk. Before her was an unfurled scroll that was only about half completed. Her mother promptly replaced the brush in her hand back into the attendant ink and gave her daughter a worried look. “Sweetheart, is everything alright?”

“I…” she hesitated, “just wanted to talk to you. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Mom blinked. “Of course it’s okay. I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

“Can we talk… alone?”

Mother looked a little puzzled, but soon nodded. All she had to do was gesture, and the office’s attendant guards filed out in good order. After the door swung gently shut behind them, a few heartbeats passed in silence.

“That execution you set up,” Azula began. “It was well-arranged. Public and definitive. No one there is ever going to forget the message you sent.”

“Um…” her mother looked uncomfortable. “Thank you?”

There came a few seconds of awkward silence.

“I’m serious,” she told the older woman. “You’ve ensured Caldera’s loyalty to you. To Zuko.”

“No, I haven’t,” Mom shook her head. “Perhaps I’ve put down one group that sought my end, but I haven’t truly secured our people’s loyalty. Not yet.”

“Yes, you did. You showed them that you were someone to be feared. To be obeyed. They’ll know to keep their heads down and do as they’re told now.”

“Azula…” Mom sighed, “you cannot expect to lead people for long through nothing but fear.”

“What are you talking about? You ruled through fear,” Azula frowned, “just like Dad would have done.”

“…Did your father’s fall truly teach you nothing?” she asked in a sad voice. “He was powerful, and fearsome. Very fearsome. And alone. Another lone man stuck a knife in his back, and all the power he had counted for nothing. The difference between what happened to him and what happened to us was that we had other people – the Imperial Firebenders, and our new retainer – looking out for us, while he had no one.” She looked right into Azula’s eyes. “Think. If all we have to offer our people is terror and executions, then how long will any of them care enough to look out for us?”

“A ruler who’s feared can just make them look out for her.”

“Your father couldn’t do that. I certainly can’t. And prodigy or no, Azula, you can’t either. For all that your ancestry may be divine, your body is mortal.” She shook her head again. “You sleep, you eat, you bathe, you make yourself vulnerable in a thousand little ways each and every day. Anyone you choose to surround yourself with will know that. And a ruler will have to surround herself with a great many people.”

“Instilling fear without respect, without love, only leads to hate,” her mother continued. “If a ruler is to truly sit secure in her place, she must have the love of her subjects, not their hate.”

“Love didn’t stop those people from trying to kill you,” she countered. “And me.”

“Love made those people try and kill us,” Mom shook her head. “Misguided love, presumptuous, ignorant, and arrogant love, yes, but love all the same. Those men and women loved your uncle – or at least their idea of him – more than they feared our dungeons. More than they feared the executioner’s blade. It will always be so, Azula,” she looked directly into her daughter’s eyes. “Love is stronger than fear. Make a man fear you, and he may do what you want – while you are looking at him. Make a man love you, and he will embrace death for your sake.”

The girl opened her mouth to argue, remembered the events of a few nights ago, and closed it again.

“I know you like military matters, so think of it this way. A soldier who fights for the love of his homeland, of his family, of his people, of the benevolent monarch who leads them all with wisdom and justice will always be stronger than a slave who merely cringes beneath a tyrant’s lash. Which of those do you think will stand and fight to the last for his king, and which will abandon him the moment the situation turns ill?” Ursa gave a sigh. “So, even if power is really what you want, you would still do well to seek it in the love of those around you.”

“If ruling through fear is supposed to be so bad, why did you make the execution public? You think people won’t be afraid of you after that?”

Do you expect me to believe that you’re too stupid to know beheading people is a great way to scare other people?

“No one who does what is right should fear their leader,” Mom replied. “Azula, you were right when you said that I did it to send a message, but it wasn’t the one that you seem to believe it was.”

“Oh?” the girl raised an eyebrow, her initial reason for coming here long since forgotten. “And what message is that?”

“That I will do my duty.”

“Your duty?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Azula, the Fire Nation is bound together in a divine order – like a great body, of which Fire Lord is the head.”

You mean you’re the head.

“We all have our duties, from the lowest of peasants to the greatest of kings, and when everyone does their duties, we all benefit. That is the fundamental reality that underpins everything we do. Our duties as royalty include the restraining of anarchy, the punishment of wrongdoers, and protection of our nation’s order and everyone in it. For our people to have faith in us, they need to see that we’re doing our part to maintain the health of the nation – that we will excise infected flesh from its body. That is what I wanted them to know.”

Sounds like excuses to me, the princess thought. You wanted the masses – and especially other people thinking about doing the same thing – to fear you.

“The people need to see that I’m making them safe, not unsafe, if I’m ever to be truly secure in my rule. Do you see the difference?”

“It seems like semantics.”

“It isn’t.” Mom seemed to consider her next choice of words a moment before speaking. “Azula, to instill fear in someone, is it necessary that victim you choose to punish have actually done anything wrong?”

“No,” she answered automatically, her mind taking her back to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, and how she’d established her dominance amongst her supposed peer group there. “You just need to show that you’re stronger than them, and you’re not afraid to hurt them.”

“Correct,” Ursa nodded. “But to instill confidence in them, and not just terror, you need to show them what you can do for them, not just to them. Is that making sense?”

The princess put a hand to her chin for a little bit, then gave a single terse nod.

“And that’s what I meant to show. That I will punish the guilty. That the innocent can feel sure that they are safe because their Fire Lady will avenge such dire crimes as those criminals committed. I don’t know if you’d thought about it, Azula, but when they struck at the rite, they didn’t just directly attack the Fire Nation’s order – they also committed a grave sacrilege against more than thirty years’ worth of the nation’s war dead.”

Truthfully speaking, she really hadn’t. There hadn’t really been anyone she particularly cared about among those, after all.

“Those people we were honoring, whose souls were so greatly dishonored were people that the populace of Caldera loved,” she made sure to emphasize that word. “Those war dead were their fathers. Their brothers. Their sons.” There was a pause. “Even their daughters. They were furious, and rightly so. They needed to know, for the good of the living and of the dead, that the perpetrators of such an atrocity were duly punished in proportion to the enormity of their crime. That, my daughter, is the message I intended to send. Not that they should fear I will take off their heads too.”

“But you will take off their heads,” the little prodigy frowned. “You proved that.”

“Not unless they commit offenses of a similar magnitude.”

“So, what’s the difference? How is that not just ruling through fear?”

Mom sighed and sat back in her chair. The nails of one hand tapped on the ornate armrest, while two fingers of the other touched the point of her chin.

“Azula,” she said after a few seconds had elapsed. “You know that everyone is born into her own station in life, right? That each station is different, and carries with it its own duties in accordance with the will of Agni, yes?”

She didn’t quite know if she believed that last part – she found it very difficult to imagine herself as ever having lived any previous lives as anything but royalty – but nodded nonetheless.

“And you know why the people below us do their duties, even though they will see them placed underneath us all the days of their lives, aren’t you?”

“Because they’re afraid of what will happen if they don’t.”

“Because they benefit, child. We all benefit when we do our duties to one another. It is the nature of our existence. If I do what is right by you, and you do what is right by me, then we are both better off than we would be alone.”

“Imagine a spark,” her mother went on, “however bright, however powerful, all alone floating through the air it is only a tiny thing, and easily snuffed out. But take a hundred sparks, a thousand, and bond them all together. What you have is a flame that cannot be extinguished. Duty is the beginning of what it is that binds our individual lives together. Duty is like the merging of the first two sparks, then respect the tinder, and then love the roaring bonfire. It’s in that way that we become truly strong, stronger than any lone spark could ever be. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“That the fire warms us all… or something like that?”

“Close enough,” she nodded. “And Azula, one of the very first precepts of duty is simple reciprocity. Good received deserves good given, that more goodness may come from both. Evil received-”

“-deserves evil given,” the girl finished for her.

“Yes,” Ursa nodded. “And this is what we call punishment. It’s not something that we do because we enjoy it, or to simply inflict pain for pain’s sake, or to instill fear in those who have done nothing wrong. It’s done to right the scales of wrongs done by taking from the offenders in proportion to what they wrongly took, to set the proper order of the universe back up as best we can, and to show the perpetrators the error of their ways. Even they, ultimately, are meant to benefit. By being made to feel the weight of their own crimes on their own heads, we help them to see why it is that they are wicked. Why they must not do such things.”

Azula fought the temptation to roll her eyes at that last bit. It wasn’t like Mom’s punishments had ever made her eager to change her ways.

“Do you understand everything I’ve said so far, Azula? Is it all making sense to you?”

“…Yeah,” she confirmed.

“I’m glad,” she smiled encouragingly. “Can you see the difference now, then? What distinguishes punishing the guilty for the sake of duty, for the good of all, from terrorizing others, regardless of guilt, for the sake of fear?”

“I mean…” her face looked ambivalent. “I guess so.”

“Very good,” Mom nodded again. “Then you see why I did what I did, and why I still need to work to fully win the loyalty of the Fire Nation.”

“You really think you can rule like that?” the princess’s voice still sounded a little incredulous. “Lead a whole nation… by love?”

“I do,” the regent confirmed. “Not only that, I believe that ruling with honor, with loyalty, with respect, and yes, with love, will bind the Fire Nation closer to me, closer to Zuko, closer to you, than any reign of fear ever could.”

“…You sure put a lot of faith in it.”

“Of course I do. How could I not?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I speak from the most personal of experience.” Mom gave her a gentle sort of smile. “I love you, Azula,” Ursa said, one delicate hand giving her side a light but meaningful touch. “I do.”

Once, Azula would not have really believed her words.

“I…” the little girl hesitated, feeling that strange burning inside, “know.”

“I’m glad.”

Azula felt like she should do something at that moment. Say something. But she had no idea what to say, and so settled for staring at her mother. Her mother stared back. There was a long, drawn-out moment of silence in the Fire Lord’s office.

“So… what were you working on?” the girl eventually asked.

“A diplomatic overture, of sorts,” her mother answered, pushing aside the scroll and brush and ink, as if she’d just remembered that it was there. “But it can wait a little while, if you had something else you wanted to talk about.” She smiled a little ruefully. “I don’t think what we just discussed was quite what you had in mind.”

Azula wondered, briefly, just who Mom would want to send a surrender demand to at this relative low point in the war before setting it aside as tangential. She was here for a reason, after all, and had been distracted from it long enough.

“You’re right,” she nodded. “There was something else.”

“Alright,” Ursa leaned forward over her desk. “What is it you wanted to talk about, sweetheart?”

“I want you to change my schedule.”

“Indeed?” Mom’s face fell a little. “How so?”

“I want more firebending.”

Ursa closed her eyes, briefly. “And why is that? You’re already in the advanced classes – the same ones all advanced children your age have been tutored in for nearly a hundred years.”

“It’s not enough!” Azula complained. “I was doing so much more bending training before, under Dad. I’m not going to reach my full potential this way!”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Mom shook her head. “But assuming for a moment that it is, what is it that you ultimately hope to achieve by placing such an extreme emphasis on your bending, to the neglect of other aspects of your life?”

“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “But I know that I love firebending. And I’m really, really good at it.”

“Azula, the war will have been over for years by the time you are even of age to be eligible for the army. And even if you choose to follow that path upon reaching your majority, is hunting down whatever scraps of resistance remain three years after Sozin’s Comet has brought us victory really the extent of your ambition for your life? There will be little else for you to do there.”

“I don’t care! I’ll find some use for it! Just cut the boring art classes and give me back the extra firebending!”

“Uncle Iroh didn’t train like that,” the Fire Lady pointed out. “Your father didn’t train like that. Cousin Lu Ten didn’t train like that. Their education was much more well-rounded.”

Maybe if they did, they’d still be alive, and Uncle wouldn’t be such a weepy loser.

“Well, none of them were me! Isn’t the whole point of that art stuff supposed to be about finding beauty and expressing yourself?” she demanded, gesturing at her own chest. “Firebending is beautiful to me! Firebending expresses me! Why don’t you get that?”

Ursa sighed a little, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple with one hand.

“If you love me like you say you do,” Azula continued, “then listen to me!”

“…Alright,” Mom said at length.

Azula blinked. “What?”

“I said: alright,” she repeated with another sigh. “On consideration, I’m willing to allow you some extra time in your firebending lessons.”

The princess actually took a step towards her mother without entirely noticing that she had.

“Just to be sure: Zhaiten has been doing a good job teaching you?”

The old war veteran wasn’t Dad, but then again it was hardly like Mom could ever find anyone who could properly replace him. Her current tutor was at least quite experienced in combat and broadly knowledgeable about most of the relevant aspects of firebending.

“He’s… good enough.”

“I see,” she nodded. “I’ll speak with him and see what arrangements he would be available to make for extra sessions with you.”

“I…” Azula momentarily found her tongue tied. “I didn’t think you’d listen… Thank you.”

“There are conditions to this,” Mom warned, opening her amber eyes again.

Of course there are.

“Like what?”

“If they really are making you so unhappy, I will let you drop your current artistic courses… save one. I’ll let you decide which avenue you continue to pursue,” she went on before Azula could object, “but you must commit yourself to doing your best in it. To genuinely giving it a chance.”

“Why?”

“Because when you’re an adult, you’re going to need some kind of outlet for self-expression that doesn’t entirely revolve around throwing fire at things and people. Something appropriate for peacetime. Wandering the world looking for excuses to fight is not an acceptable pastime for a princess of the Fire Nation in a new golden age, and that’s what you will wind up doing if you think you can express yourself only through violence.”

The princess crossed her arms over her chest. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Ursa nodded. “Azula, wherever your destiny takes you, you’re going to come of age in a world of peace, not war. You will have to know more about the history and practices of the Fire Nation than just its wars. And you simply must learn how to behave in an appropriate and respectful manner around others, even those below you in station.” Mom frowned a little. “On that, I’m not going to budge. You will continue to take courses in cultural history and etiquette, and that’s final.”

Azula had to consciously stop herself from sticking out her tongue.

“Buuut…” she sighed a little, then continued. “I suppose some incentive may help. How about this: if you do well in these courses, and show me you will apply what you’ve learned, I’ll also give you some extra time with military history and tactical lessons. Deal?”

Azula pretended to consider it for a moment, looking to see if there was any sign of weakness on her mother’s face, any signal that she might be willing to make further concessions. It wasn’t everything that she wanted. But it was something.

“…Alright,” the princess eventually said with a deliberate sigh, still hoping for some apparent crack in the regent’s armor but finding none. “Deal.”

Azula’s flames blazed beneath the light of a crescent moon.

The glow of the moon and stars shone down on one of the palace’s open interior courtyards, specially cleared for the princess’s use. She stood out in the open, legs bent into a very rudimentary but immaculately executed firebending stance. For tonight’s session, Master Zhaiten had chosen to put the Mantis Scorpion katas on the backburner, and instead focus on something simultaneously much more basic, yet more critical: nighttime firebending.

Face gleaming with sweat, brow furrowed with concentration, the little girl brought both of her hands around, gathering energy, and then thrust them directly forward as one entity. It was a simple kata, one of the very first taught to burgeoning students, and the effect was equally basic. A blazing orb of yellow and orange, carrying a fiery tail in the manner of comet, was launched right across the empty courtyard to strike another facsimile of an Earth Kingdom soldier.

With their innate spiritual connection to the sun, to Agni, it was the nature of firebenders to wake with the first light of dawn and lay down to rest at dusk. Those who defied this seeming natural mandate found their powers diminished in the presence of the moon and stars. It was a tale as old as the Fire Nation and was why nightlife throughout most of the empire was restricted to bare necessities. Unfortunately, the enemy was as aware of this cycle of waxing and waning as they were, and with their source of power literally beneath their feet at all times, the earthbenders suffered from no such time constraints.

“Again,” her tutor demanded, practically at the moment the flames had cleared.

He almost sounds like Dad when he says that. She gave him some grudging, mental praise.

Without hesitating, without pausing for breath, Azula immediately set herself to work at repeating the exact same move. It didn’t matter how basic it was, or how many times she’d done it before. She would do it perfectly.

“Many people, most people, believe that firebending is inherently weaker at night. This isn’t so. There is no inherent difference between what your bending can achieve during the day, and what it can do at night.” Zhaiten said, arms folded across his chest and amber eyes appraising his charge carefully. “During the day, you benefit from Agni’s light. During the night, Tui is ascendent, and she is less kind to our people. But it is perfectly possible to accomplish all the same feats underneath her glow, if done properly. If you are to truly master firebending, you must achieve this.” He paused to watch. “Still a bit dimmer than your bending from earlier. Again.”

The young prodigy hardly needed to be told twice, throwing herself right back into the move with all the relentless vigor Dad had instilled in her.

“Since you cannot bolster your inner flame with the sun’s, you must bolster it with your own will instead,” he went on. “Drive is always vital for firebending, but never more so than now, when you can depend on nothing but your own inner strength. To get the same output as during the day, you have to draw deeper of your own wells of chi. To do this, you must hold your drive firmly in your mind. You must focus.”

She didn’t need anyone to tell her that. She could see it for herself, in the way her fireballs were a fraction smaller than the ones she had conjured with the same execises in the same location at high noon, in how the orange-yellow mixture now leaned ever so slightly more towards orange. Gritting her teeth against the pounding in her eardrums, the little girl redoubled her efforts and did the move again.

“You are a firebender,” the steel-haired veteran lectured, even while she continued going through the motions. “Your enemies will know that the night is your time of greatest weakness. Those who mean you ill may seek to capitalize on it – the cowards in the Earth Kingdom have long tried such underhanded means to avoid directly facing the armies of our mighty nation. I saw it for myself many times,” he shook his head once. “I lost friends to it.” His face hardened. “Do it again.”

Azula took several quick breaths, silently cursing her young body’s relative lack of staying power. There was only so much that training could do to ameliorate the physical limitations that came with being both nine years old and female. She refused to allow such things to hold her back for long, quickly moving her arms right back through the familiar sequence and hurling yet another immaculately aimed orb of fire straight at the training dummy.

“It is no coincidence, I think, that the skulking assassin who struck down your noble father came at him in the dead of night.” Zhaiten pursed his lips and scowled. “And no coincidence that when the same traitors later returned to try and finish their wretched task, it was again when the sun had already set.”

Azula panted, sweat trickling down her face and heart thumping in her chest. Her teacher’s comment drew the princess’s mind back to the Rite of the Spirit Lamps, all those weeks ago. She could remember the scene as clearly as if she was right back there. She doubted that she would ever forget. That had been the night where Azula had almost died. The night when Mom had been wounded. Azula… found she didn’t like to see Mom being hurt like that.

That odd burning sensation in her chest was back again.

The princess drew herself back into the kata’s opening stance, taking several deep, drawn-out breaths to slow the pace of her heart. It would do her training no good were she to start hyperventilating.

Azula had been slow to react that night. Had failed to move to cover swiftly. Had failed to spot the incoming arrows before they had had a chance to do their work. Had to be saved by someone else, whose very survival had been down to simple good fortune. She would not have been able to counter an earthbending strike of that night’s magnitude, probably would not even have been able to avoid it at that speed. The night the assassins had struck again, Azula had been weak. Mom might never say a word of reproach, but Dad would have told her that being a mere nine years old was no excuse for such a poor performance, and that fact she readily accepted. She should never have been in such a losing position to begin with.

“Hopefully we’ve seen the last of such treasonous filth, with thanks to your noble mother’s decisive response,” her teacher was still speaking. “But still, the very fact that they tried shows the importance of this skill to a master firebender.”

He was right. The princess had to be stronger, she told herself.

Maybe… maybe that had something to do with her destiny? If Azula’s firebending was strong enough, she could render entire volleys of arrows into ashes on the breeze. Reduce any earthbender’s attacks to tiny mounds of charred rubble. Father had always said that with enough power, she could make the world bend to her will. Mother had asked what she ultimately wanted that power for. She hadn’t really known at the time. Well, she now thought, maybe this could be a part of the answer? Power like that could be used to stop harm coming to people that she… she… didn’t want to see getting hurt.

The princess narrowed her focus once more, summoning her drive to stoke her lessened inner fire as she went through the movements with a determined expression set onto her face. Azula would overcome, would be strong, would be the greatest firebender the nation had ever seen! And if enemies, if traitors, if anyone wanted to touch the things that belonged to Azula, then she wouldn’t let them!

Palms slick with sweat, both her hands thrust forward. Another fireball emerged, roughly as wide as her torso, and hurdled across the courtyard like a meteor in the sky. It struck her training dummy in the chest, melting so much fiber armor as it did that the steel beneath was left visibly blackened, dull and nonreflective in the moonlight.

Azula blinked. Her mouth opened, just a fraction.

Right there, just then. She’d seen it. Mixed in amidst all the usual writhing mass of orange and yellow – a core of searing white.

Chapter Text

Yue had never seen so much green in her life.

Of course, the recently turned twelve-year-old princess of the Northern Water Tribe had never seen so much red before either, or gold, or gunmetal grey, or brown, or really so much of any color that wasn’t blue or white. But what really struck her, even more so than the titanic statue of Fire Lord Azulon that towered over the entrance to the royal harbor, was just how alive this island looked. Whenever she’d thought about the mysterious enemy nation far to the south – which wasn’t often since there hadn’t been a major engagement between their peoples in eighty-one years at this point – she had imagined a barren, smoke-choked wasteland, ruled over by a masked, shadowy tyrant hidden behind a wall of flames.

As her tribe’s wooden sailing ship entered the bay, its distant metal escorts peeling off to either side behind it, the vision of verdant tropical island faded into the background, replaced with that of a natural harbor easily as large her home city’s own, covered in stark white stonework and fortified by a number of well-placed high towers. A similarly constructed sea wall offered further protection to a sectioned-off area of the harbor, though its gates had already been retracted to admit the newcomers.

Sailing underneath the banner-bearing overhang that provided the sea gate with an additional layer of protection was no challenge at all to the experienced seamen of her tribe, and soon enough they were in the royal harbor itself. There was a great, grinding, mechanical noise from behind the ship, as those same gates slowly sealed themselves shut behind their guests. From where she stood on deck, the moon’s chosen could make out further, even more densely packed defensive towers and bulwarks placed stop the steep cliffs all around the, massive siege engines doubtless ready to blow away any intruders in a hail of their nation’s infamous explosive bolts.

As they finally pulled into the central dock, one obviously designed with even larger vessels than the royal cutter in mind, Yue craned her neck peering over the side of the wooden Water Tribe ship, looking down at what was waiting for her. Her clothes for today, and for the last few days, were exceptionally light by northern standards, and even then, she could feel the drops of perspiration running down the back of her neck.

There were hundreds – no, thousands – of Fire Nation soldiers waiting along the royal harbor’s processional. Row after row, rank after rank of tall men in their red and black armor and spiked helmets stood at attention, forming neat squares atop the white stone, on either side of a clear, painted crimson path running right from the docks into a towering fortification of yet more white stone. Thousands of identical harsh white masks covered their faces, rendering their collective gaze into that of one vast, overwhelming consciousness. It didn’t feel like it was just these particular men looking up at a comparatively small number of new arrivals, it felt like the entire Fire Nation was staring down the Northern Water Tribe – sizing it up like an otterpenguin caught in the sights of a leopardseal. The effect, at least to Yue, was more than a little disconcerting.

She couldn’t be entirely sure, but if anyone had asked her at that moment, the little princess would have guessed that there were more warriors lined up just to greet them than existed in the whole of the northern tribe. Certainly, the fifty odd spear-wielding warriors, dozen waterbenders, two healers, several personal attendants, and Uncle Utoq that made up her own escort were outnumbered by orders of magnitude.

The snow-haired girl couldn’t help but swallow once before making her way down the boat’s ramp. From the bottom of it, Mama’s younger brother gave her his best reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The young princess did her best to return it as she set foot on land for the first time in weeks. Her uncle squeezed her shoulder once, comfortingly, before pivoting towards the massive mountain in the distance. Taking the royal girl’s hand gently in his, he led the way forward, their escort continuing to file off the wooden boat behind them.

“Atten-shun!” someone, somewhere, yelled. “Royal guests have arrived!”

“Bring honor to the Fire Nation!” came the response of ten thousand roaring throats.

As one, several thousand soldiers of the Fire Nation all pivoted on their heels, turning forty-five degrees to face the delineated processional path, and one another across it. Yue, her uncle, and their guardians were made to walk right in between seemingly endless ranks of massed, ramrod straight, crimson and black-clad men on their way down the path. None of the soldiers said or did anything further as the foreigners passed, of course, but the sheer discipline and unity on display spoke for itself.

Clustered around the base of a great white and red defensive tower other men, these in much fancier imperial red uniforms trimmed with gold, stood waiting for them at the end of the very long processional isle. While much less numerous than the masses of soldiery that surrounded them, at rough numerical parity with Yue’s guardians, their parade formation was no less crisp. Just behind their dual lines a lavishly decorated carriage stood with doors open to the northern delegation, complete with a waiting valet and even a stepstool for the young lady. And further beyond that, looming large over the whole harbor, Caldera City awaited its guests.

“Announcing the arrival of his majesty, Son of Agni, liege of the Fire Nation,” a deep, powerful voice echoed throughout a palatial guest chamber some hours later. “Fire Lord Zuko!”

Dressed in her very best light, fur-edged silken clothes, hair freshly cleaned and styled by her attendants in the palace’s own Royal Spa, and smelling faintly of the imported jasmine perfume brought along just in case anything of her weeks at sea survived the thorough scrubbing she’d been put through, Yue rose from the luxurious vivid red sofa on which she had sat. Quickly, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, dabbed a bead of sweat from her painted face, and clasped her hands together in front of her. As the curtains were peeled open, she took a deep breath, ignoring the knot in her gut and putting on the best pleasant expression a lifetime of lady’s training could give her.

Before the trip, Papa had made sure to pull her aside and emphasize how important it was that Yue was on her absolute best behavior while she was here. The Fire Nation must not take any offense at anything she did, or there could be consequences for her whole tribe. The princess didn’t really understand why the southerners would want to punish an entire people for the actions of one kid, but Papa knew best, and she had rarely seen him looking more serious.

The crimson curtains parted, and though Yue had known intellectually what was coming she still had to bite back a small urge to let her eyes widen.

It was so weird. The Fire Lord, to the extent that he had existed at all in her mind, had always been a towering, monstrous, inhuman figure wrapped in shadow and flame. A dark, corrupted sun, reaching out from behind endless waves of skull-masked men and clanking machines to seize the world for himself. She had never wished to know any more. She had long hoped, with the rest of her tribe, that the dark tyrant and his nation had forgotten all about them and would never have any interest in claiming a desolate, frozen land where nothing beyond seaweed and sea prunes grew. Where Agni never even rose for a huge part of the year.

But the real Fire Lord appearing before her was just a kid. Just like her. Even though she’d been told that he was about her age already, the actual reality of that fact hadn’t really clicked until this moment. With black hair bound up into an immaculate topknot, fashionably pale skin over top of features already sharper than most boys his age, and striking golden eyes unlike any she’d ever seen, the boy king was even rather handsome. Certainly nothing at all like what she’d imagined the Fire Lord to be.

Still, a lifetime of tutelage in all the social niceties expected of a lady of her station had more than prepared Yue to conceal her emotions while carrying out her duties.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Fire Lord Zuko,” she said as he drew closer, pressing her hands together, closing her eyes, and bowing her head just far enough to convey deep respect without reaching the point of total subservience. “My name is Princess Yue, firstborn daughter of Chieftain Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe.”

“We’re pleased to welcome you,” he responded in a formal tone once he had reached the sofa across the table from her, putting his own hands together and dipping his own head a few degrees less, as was only appropriate. “Your journey here went smoothly?”

“It was uneventful,” she confirmed. “Your escorts kept the seas clear around us. We appreciate that, as well as your hospitality.”

It was true. The large spread of rich-looking food and merrily steaming tea set out on the table between them certainly smelled very appetizing, featuring a number of strange-looking delicacies that the princess had never even heard of. Certainly, it was a nice change of pace from weeks of being able to eat only the preserved food of sailors and whatever fish the waterbenders could pull from the ocean along the way, with only some of her favorite imported plum jam as a special treat. Not that she would have dared be so rude as to touch any of it before her host arrived.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” the young king said, before gesturing at the spread set out in between them. “You’re probably pretty hungry after coming all that way, right?”

“I am,” she said. “You’re very thoughtful to consider it.”

“It wasn’t-” he began, before immediately cutting himself off. “I mean… don’t let me stop you.”

That was the cue the moon’s child had been waiting for. Waiting just long enough to make sure that the higher-ranking nobleman had picked up his own plate first – that was simply good manners in the Water Tribe – she promptly began delicately placing bits and pieces of the feast onto her own. Mostly, Yue stuck to those savorier, meat-based dishes that reminded her of home, especially helping herself to the abundant varieties of sausage and fatty bacon strips on display. The last thing she wanted to do was bite into something that tasted funny and wind up making a face like she had that one time.

“You’ll want to try some of those,” Zuko said, pointing to some kind of off-white pastry of about hand size for her. “Egg custard mochi. They’re really good.”

The odd-looking things didn’t exactly look like Yue’s first choice, but she wasn’t going to insult the Fire Lord in a fit of pique by refusing to eat his choice of food. She used a pair of tongs to place one on her plate after he was done with the serving dish, thought about everyone back home, and placed a second one, just in case.

Without hesitation, Yue picked up the strange foreign delicacy in one soft, immaculately manicured hand, brought it to her lips, and took one modest-sized bite. A second later, her eyes widened, and she immediately took a rather less demure bite. Then a second. Then a third. Then her hand was empty.

Sugar, outside of that found in fruit preserves, was very rare in the north pole. It could only be sourced through the infrequent instances of foreign trade, and only then at exorbitant prices. Even for royal girls, it was something of a luxury item. The snow-haired princess didn’t even really notice that she’d gobbled the first of the treats up a little bit faster than she’d entirely meant to.

“Told ya,” the Fire Lord grinned affably at her.

“Mmph myu,” the girl said, covering her mouth with a hand still clutching the second, half-eaten pastry and trying to conceal her somewhat bulging cheeks. She had to chew a few moments to get all the gummy outer cake to a consistency that she could swallow, producing a slight giggle in the black-haired boy sitting across from her.

“My apologies,” she said, when she could speak normally again, right before placing a third and fourth such treat onto her plate.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, before leaning forward a bit, put a hand beside his mouth, and whispered conspiratorially. “Sometimes I do it too, when Mom isn’t looking.”

Yue blinked. “Really?”

The Fire Lord has to hide stuff from his Mama too?

“Really,” he nodded.

“Well don’t worry,” she said, after considering a moment. “I won’t tell.”

“She’d believe me anyway,” he boasted, chest puffing just a bit.

With that, the pair of youngsters sat back for a little bit, munching on the delectable array of Fire Nation delicacies spread out before them. Yue helped herself to several more pieces of mochi, some cracker-like thing covered in glistening golden honey, and a few balls of fried dough covered in what she now understood to be powdered sugar. It was only once she’d gulped down more helpings of sweet treats than she’d probably ever had at once at any other point in her young life that she remembered the servings of meat she’d already put on her plate. Starting to feel full but not wishing to appear rude by leaving food on her plate uneaten – very taboo back home considering how much work had to be put into acquiring each and every bite in the artic – she picked up a slice of reddish komodo rhino sausage in her chopsticks and plopped it right into her mouth.

Yowch!

Hot! Hot! Hot! Yue swallowed the sausage with barely more than a single chew, feeling the sweat already forming on her painted face as the stinging went right down her throat. The little girl set her plate back down with a haste than just bordered on unseeming, eyes darting this way and that, having to consciously hold back from sticking her burning tongue out of her mouth and trying to wipe away the sensation with her bare hands. If this was what people here ate every day, no wonder the tribe said they were so angry all the time!

Icy blue eyes settling on a kettle with a very mild herbal smell emanating from it for lack of any apparent milk on offer, the little girl quickly filled her fine porcelain cup almost to the brim. The drink was a reddish sort of brown, most unlike the Earth Kingdom blends Yue had tried a few times before, and definitely at variance with the small variety of brews native to the frozen north. With watery eyes and slightly trembling hands, her cheeks by now visibly flushed, the princess all but threw back her head and drank up half the cup in one gulp.

The relief was immediate. The tea in her mouth was warm, not burning hot, and the blended herbs floating around in it were strong. Whatever they were, they cancelled out the burning feeling on her tongue at once, replacing it with a savory feeling of refined bittersweetness. It had its warm undertones as well, but they were far more pleasant, more akin to a cozy hearth fire on a biting blizzard night than the raging inferno of the sausage. It made her mouth feel pleasantly tingly. And when the snow-haired girl swallowed, it left behind a strong and satisfying aftertaste. The feeling was so enjoyable, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the Fire Lord sitting across from her had had a hand over his own mouth the whole time, trying desperately not to giggle.

“That’s a very nice blend of tea,” she eventually managed, feeling the invigorating sensation trickle down her throat, from where it spread swiftly to her stomach and core area. “Really keeps you warm. We could use something like that back home.”

“We grow it here, in the royal gardens,” the boy explained. “Uncle could probably tell you more about how it’s done, if he were here.”

Yue was privately rather glad he wasn’t. The infamous Dragon of the West, the Fire Nation’s fiercest general, hardly sounded like someone she wanted to meet any time soon.

“Well, I’m just happy to have some,” she told him, taking another sip, and enjoying the sensation. The tingly warmth had by that point started to creep into her limbs.

“I can get some more sent to your room, if you want,” he offered.

“I’d like that, thank you,” she nodded, draining the remainder of her fine cup, followed at once by pouring herself a second helping.

“No problem.” He sat back against the sofa and took a drink of the stuff himself, after which a thought seemed to strike him. “You don’t have gardens in the north pole, do you?”

“No,” the princess confirmed with a shake of her head. “It’s too cold, and there isn’t enough sun. Nothing will grow on land there. Everything we have has to be taken from the sea or imported.”

There was, of course, a sole exception to that rule, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to go blabbing about that to the leader of a nation hers was technically still at war with. And besides, the oasis hardly counted as a garden. No one in the tribe had made it.

“Would you like to see ours?” he asked politely. “Even though they’re not in full bloom yet, they’re still really nice. My mom really likes them.”

“What do you think about them?” she replied. She didn’t want to make him bored during their very first meeting.

“…I think they’re fun places to run around and play in,” he said after a moment’s quiet. “I’m not sure that’s supposed to be proper behavior for something like this, though.” He gestured to the northern girl, then himself.

“Umm…” Yue coughed politely, between sips of tea. “You’re the Fire Lord. Don’t you get to decide what’s appropriate behavior?”

“Well, I mean…” he blinked, as if he hadn’t considered that. “I guess?”

Grandma Ummi always said the Fire Lord had absolute power over everything down here, the princess recalled. This was definitely not going the way she’d expected – though she wasn’t entirely sure that she minded.

“Do you like to run around and play?” the young king asked after a moment.

Proper ladies weren’t supposed to get frantic or excitable. Gentle and calm as the flowing stream, that was the Water Tribe’s feminine ideal. And Yue was no one’s idea of a wild child, not by any stretch of the imagination. But underneath all the layers of duty and expectation, training and discipline lay the fundamental reality of a twelve-year-old child who’d just eaten a bunch of sugary delicacies, and all the energy that came with it.

“Yeah!” she nodded, her eyes glittering. She drained the last of her cup and offered a sincere, albeit slightly shy, smile. “Who doesn’t?”

“I know, right?” Zuko smiled back, before standing up. “Well, uh, if you’re ready, I can show you the way from here. You can ride in my palanquin if you want.”

“I’d be honored to accept your invitation right away,” she nodded, standing up herself with hands clasped politely in front of her before blinking, looking down, and doing a bit of a double take. “Um, your majesty?”

“You can call me Zuko,” he looked back from where he’d taken a few steps back towards the curtains from which he’d emerged. Then he frowned slightly. “At least in private. Everyone says I’m not supposed to let people do that in public.”

“Makes sense. And you can call me Yue, if you want to,” the other royal nodded, before looking back down at her outfit. “But…” she gave a slightly awkward squeak. “Would it… make you mad if I ran and changed clothes before we go? I promise I’ll be quick.”

Mama would be upset with her if she got her nice silk clothing all torn up in some bushes. And it would be so awful and embarrassing for the tribe to see their princess walking around in a foreign capital in shredded finery. Not to mention how shoddy and thoughtless she’d make herself look before the Fire Lord’s own eyes.

“I have some travel clothes that would work better for playing in,” she explained, shrinking just a little beneath his golden gaze. “These here are more meant for formal events.” Yue had to fight to stop herself from cringing at her own wording, once her brain realized what she’d just implied.

Please don’t be offended. Please don’t be offended. Please don’t be offended. Please don’t be offended.

“Makes sense to me,” he offered a slight shrug. “Why would I get mad about that?”

The little princess breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she bowed her head gracefully, before straightening back up. “I won’t be long, I promise!”

As Utoq of the Water Tribe wandered through the soaring and lavishly appointed interior of the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace, escorted on either side by two of the Fire Lord’s own guards, he couldn’t help but reflect, for the hundredth time, how bizarre the whole situation was. A whole lifetime of isolation, endured since the days of his father and his father’s father, wherein the greatest adventure one could hope for was a short jaunt to the Earth Kingdom’s northern coast for trading, all upended in a matter of weeks. Now here he was, in the very heart of the age-old enemy, by their own invitation.

The strangeness had begun the day that a small Fire Nation scouting frigate, its trebuchet left conspicuously un-loaded and clearly bearing a banner of truce, had sailed into the traditional Water Tribe seas. It had dared to come as close as just within visual range of the walls of their great city, under careful observation of their own patrols, before dispatching a lone hawk bearing an unfamiliar but important-looking seal upon its carrying case. The message, marked clearly for their chief, had been received by warriors at the sea wall and delivered to Arnook with all haste.

It had been a profoundly unpleasant surprise to find out that the Fire Nation was aware of Yue’s existence. Recriminations had abounded at once, with most placing the blame on the decision to allow the very rare Earth Kingdom merchant ship that dared run the Fire Navy’s blockade occasional access to some of their outer docks. Someone somewhere had talked to a foreigner about the north’s most precious treasure, and from there the ever-vigilant spies of the Dragon Throne had ferreted her out. No amount of otherwise impossible to acquire metal or silks could justify such an enormous breach of secrecy, and so it had been nearly unanimously decided in council to ban such traders from the walls of their city altogether from then on.

Regardless, the damage had been done, and the proposal by the fiery men of the south had been stunning in its boldness. They wanted talks, not merely between traders or soldiers but between the Fire Lord’s own reigning regent (it had been quite a shock to discover that that was his mother, of all people) and someone with the authority to speak for Chief Arnook, if not the man himself, directly. They wished to end the generations-old state of war between their two nations, once and for all. What’s more, they wanted a visit by Princess Yue herself, accompanied by whatever escort the northerners chose to provide, to meet with the Fire Lord in person, within the very walls of their tropical capital. The letter did not say why but written to a society in which virtually all marriages were arranged, the reasoning seemed as plain as it was shocking.

There had been a flurry of debate amongst the tribal council. A message had been sent back via the same dragon hawk. A reply had come, days later, upon a different hawk bearing the same seal as before. More debates followed. More messages were carried back and forth – the uncannily intelligent southern hawks seeming to become more and more adept at finding Arnook himself with each exchange, until one morning the chief had awoken to find one perched expectantly upon his palace balcony. Some of the more superstitious tribesmen wondered whether the birds were possessed, like some of the old stories claimed.

Why, the men of the north had asked, should they believe the good intentions of the war’s instigators? How did they know that this proposed diplomatic exchange was not a trap, some devious ploy to ensnare the chief’s only precious child to gain leverage over their tribe? The reply had been, in essence, that the Fire Nation already possessed all the leverage it could ever want over the Northern Water Tribe, and therefore could afford to reach out and make the first move. Alongside that had come a personal vow that each and every member of the proposed delegation would come and go freely, and that any who attempted to bar their way would suffer the Dragon Throne’s wrath.

The fears of the council, and of a father, were not allayed. The Fire Nation asked a great deal for what was after all the first substantial diplomatic contact to be made in almost a hundred years. Would the Fire Lord, they asked, reciprocate their princess’s visit? Not yet came the answer, but should they prove themselves to be sincere in their intentions, then yes, in time he would. Unspoken but very plain was the reasoning behind the diplomatic niceties – while the Fire Nation already had immense leverage over the Northern Water Tribe by dint of its enormous military and technological superiority, the people of the Tui and La could only hope to acquire similar bargaining power by capturing one of Agni’s brood. Counciler Ummo had wanted to break off any further talks altogether for that perceived insult alone, but cooler heads had prevailed when Master Pakku reminded everyone present that in a mere four years’ time, Sozin’s Comet would reappear at the height of the Time of the Midnight Sun. Previously they had pinned their hopes on simply being overlooked during the firebenders’ moment of godlike power, now they knew for certain that they would not be. To spurn the offer altogether was therefore to gamble with the very existence of their people.

So they had tried a different tac. Could they send an emissary alone to negotiate with the Fire Lord’s regent – left unspoken was how obviously wrong as it was to be relying on a woman to make decisions of state – and put off the princess’s visit for a later date? Ideally until they could plead preexisting arrangements. Utoq knew his older sister Xue in particular was favoring a young up and coming warrior from a good family by the name of Hahn to be her only daughter’s future husband. He knew little of the boy personally, but his ancestry was quite prestigious and his family well-connected throughout the tribe’s ruling elites. It would probably be a good match for her.

Either the so-called Fire Lady Dowager was wise to their plan or simply impatient, for the reply had been swift in coming and quite frank in the negative. The Fire Nation was a vast empire with many long-running issues on its mind and did not wish to add to these with a prolonged diplomatic dance with the Water Tribe. The issues would be resolved together. Perhaps as a consolation gift, though, or simply to prove that they indeed spoke with one in authority, the letter proclaimed that the Fire Navy would unilaterally withdraw its ongoing blockade of northern waters to a new line over fifty nautical miles to the south, reopening valuable fishing grounds from which their tribe had long since been expelled. The north’s initial response had been cautious, but after several weeks of fishing expeditions in that direction returned with abundant catches from unspoiled waters and confirmation that yes, the metal ships of the southern men were nowhere to be found, then the mood in the council had become more resigned.

The good of the tribe had to come before all else. Arnook knew that as well as anyone.

For his part, Utoq found himself hoping for the first time in his life that someone would dislike his young niece, though little Yue was such a good-natured and dutiful girl that he honestly did not see how anyone could.

Still, much as he would have preferred her to be, his sister’s daughter was not, could not, be his primary concern at the moment. The Water Tribe’s emissary was being marched through the palace by what he suspected was a rather circuitous route, giving him ample time to take in its size, its magnificent wealth, its multitude of prominently displayed war trophies, and even the hall devoted to truly titanic stylized portraits of Fire Lords gone by, of which the infamous Azulon was only the most recent. The guards made sure to slow down in there, really let him get a good look at the ancient lineage of Agni.

Still, eventually, the theatrics had to come to an end. When they did finally reach the entrance to throne room itself, it was honestly rather surprising how plain it was. Merely a set of deep crimson curtains, emblazoned with the Fire Nation’s insignia in jet black. He wondered, briefly, if there was meant to be some kind of symbolism behind that choice of décor before dismissing it as irrelevant. The elite guards escorting him silently peeled away, taking their place beside others of their order beside the entrance. It went without saying that the northern warrior had long since been searched for weapons, or hidden stores of water.

Arnook’s chosen ambassador paused at the entranceway, taking a deep breath. No one made any move to stop him. When he felt himself ready to perhaps decide the future of his entire people, he resumed his walking pace, brushing aside the fine silk curtains. His footsteps began to echo the moment he stepped inside.

The throne room before him was titanic, and just as gloomy as he’d imagined it. Several rows of great black stone pillars capped in gold rose from the polished black tile floor, towering multiple stories above the heads of a would-be petitioner. An equally large golden dragon relief framed the rearmost wall, a ferocious beast breathing down a cone of metal flames just behind the throne’s pavilion. The room’s only sources of light were twin walls of fire crackling before and behind the throne itself, both about waist-high and of a soft yellowish color. He supposed the entire effect was meant to come off as intimidating. For him personally, the grandeur surrounding him had the opposite effect – making the figure seated on the throne come off as small by comparison. As he crossed the distance between them, back straight and arms folded neatly behind him, his blue eyes gradually zeroed in on the chamber’s lone other occupant, and just as gradually narrowed.

Ah yes, the so-called “Fire Lady Dowager”. When they’d gotten that news, that somehow in the southerners’ backward ways a mere child had been permitted to succeed Fire Lord Azulon instead of the famed Dragon of the West, that had been quite enough to cause a stir on the tribal council by itself. But to compound the shock, they had been informed that due to the boy’s age, a woman of all people had been chosen to represent him on his throne. There had been open laughter in the council chambers when they’d first read that out. Councilor Tanto had even ventured a guess that the Fire Nation was either playing some manner of demented joke that only made sense to a brain cooked by a lifetime of tropical sun, or else just mocking them with such a nakedly absurd idea as a woman handed the reigns of the world’s foremost empire.

It hadn’t been until a few exchanges later that it dawned on the Water Tribe that, yes, the Fire Nation was serious, and yes, they really had been so mad as to entrust the destiny of their entire nation during what could possibly be its most important epoch in millennia to a creature fundamentally ill-suited for the task. Women were the guardians of hearth and home, healers, domestic artists, weavers of song and basket, and mistresses of the marketplace. Not warriors. Not hunters. And certainly not rulers of a polity. The spirits did not shape them for it, their sex’s innate dispositions clashing too badly with the cold and impersonal objectivity required to successfully manage a nation. A woman in power would obviously get too wrapped up in the emotional, personal realities of her situation – the same preoccupation that made the fairer sex so very fine at smoothing over interpersonal disputes within the tribe – to maintain the calm sense of aloofness needed to properly steer the ship of state.

In this Utoq was certainly in accord with the rest of them, agreeing that the ascension of a woman to the role of chieftain was clearly unnatural, that the role ought to have gone to a close male relative instead if a stand-in for her son was needed, and that the fact that it hadn’t was yet more clear evidence of the southerners’ bizarre and barbaric ways. The difference between Arnook’s brother-in-law and some of the others on the council was that Utoq knew enough history to know that these Fire Nation types tended to be extremely prickly when it came to their honor, and that the Northern Water Tribe was in no position to start throwing perceived insults at a naturally temperamental creature placed, however unwisely, in command of armies that dwarfed their own by orders of magnitude. The population differential imposed by living an isolationist existence in one of the most challenging environments on the planet meant that they simply could not afford to have her lash out against them with a hundred ships and ten thousand firebenders. Therefore, Utoq would bite his tongue and treat the woman as though she were a proper choice of regent for her young son.

Still, he joined the remainder of his tribe in fervently hoping that this woman had a man somewhere behind the scenes, guiding her to make the correct, rational decisions for the greater good instead of using her position to give vent to personal feelings. Perhaps someone like General Iroh.

“Fire Lady Ursa,” he announced himself with a bow of his head that was just low enough to be respectful. He would not grovel before a foreigner, not even in her own seat of power. “I am Ambassador Utoq, son of Shinoq, warrior of the Northern Water Tribe. I come before you at your request, speaking in the name of Chieftain Arnook, my brother by marriage. I come to establish peace between our two great nations.”

“And I welcome you, Ambassador Utoq,” the figure seated behind the wall of fire responded, her voice echoing even more powerfully throughout the chamber than his did. He suspected that the acoustics had been designed that way. “I am Ursa, Fire Lady Dowager and regent of the Fire Nation, speaking in the name of Fire Lord Zuko, chosen heir to the Dragon Throne. I hope that our discussion today will prove beneficial to both our peoples.”

“That is a hope we share, your majesty,” the dark-skinned man replied in a neutral tone.

“Very good.”

“After ninety-six years of war, you were the one to send for us,” Utoq went straight to the point. “You must know what exactly you want from us.”

“Indeed, I do.”

“Well then,” the northerner spread his hands in a gesture of invitation. “On behalf of my chief, I will hear your terms. If we are to have to peace, what are your conditions for it?”

“Firstly, let me tell you what I will give you, should you accept,” the long-haired woman said. “What I offer you is a total and immediate cessation of hostilities with the Fire Nation. The blockades will be withdrawn, and all pre-war territorial waters will be returned to your custody. They will even be expanded.”

“Expanded?” he raised one eyebrow.

 “I know that there have long been territorial disputes regarding certain islands and the waters around them between you and the Earth Kingdom. These islands are ours now, but I will make them yours, to do with as you will.”

Generous of her, he thought, suspiciously. History shows few examples of the winning side giving up territory.

“In addition, should you accept this peace, there will be no military occupation of Water Tribe land. Your tribe will retain sovereignty to conduct its own internal affairs in accordance with its own customs. Your traders will be permitted full access to ports both within the Fire Nation and throughout the colonies, and our traders will in turn have access to your city.”

There was no question that the economic benefits of that, to the isolated and import-hungry north pole, would be quite substantial. Grains, wood, metal, cotton, and coal, not to mention luxury goods like silks and foreign delicacies, all of these were impossible to acquire in the frozen reaches, save by trade.

“You will, in short, enjoy the boons of becoming an ally of a burgeoning empire, while retaining the right to continue your own traditional form of local governance. So long as you abide by the terms of this agreement, not one foot of Water Tribe land will see a Fire Nation boot placed upon it in anger.”

Utoq kept his face neutral. Certainly, it sounded like an attractive enough offer so far considering the relative strengths of their two nations, but the other shoe had yet to drop.

“And in return for these… boons?”

“Your chieftain will swear his allegiance to Dragon Throne. He will enforce its laws faithfully across these territories, both old and new, and suppress any would-be military action against the throne’s interests.”

Of course, he thought. Formal subordination on our part is an inevitable requirement if she is not to lose face by giving up land and sea her people have bled for.

“And there is more, I take it?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Your waterbenders could provide our naval operations with unique and invaluable support. Support that would render substantial enemy naval operations effectively impossible,” Ursa told him.

The Fire Navy is already the strongest and most advanced in the world. Adding large numbers of waterbenders to its arsenal would probably end whatever is left of Earth Kingdom naval power within the next year or two, he mentally acknowledged. And from there, strangling the remainder of the continent one waterway at a time would be so much easier.

“And the efficacy of your healing women is legendary. We will ask you to provide substantial commitments of both to our armies, in batches to be rotated in and out on a predetermined schedule. Your people will be armed and equipped appropriately and paid fairly for their time served, of course, as would any soldier of our nation.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You want us to surrender our greatest defense to you? Simply out of faith in your word?”

“I want you to show that you are truly committed to our new alliance, not merely opportunistic free riders,” the dark-haired woman answered. “And to save many lives in so doing.”

“Surely, your majesty, you must know,” the emissary replied carefully, “that the lives our chieftain must take into the greatest account are those of his own people. What you ask is that he risk them, all of them in their own way, purely out of faith that the same nation that started this war will not think to take advantage of our city while its defenses have been stripped away.” He paused a moment to let her consider. “What you ask requires a great deal of trust on our behalf. I mean no offense, but there has been little chance to establish such great faith these last nine decades.”

There was a brief period where no sound could be heard, save for the crackling of flames. Arnook’s marital brother began to wonder if he’d miscalculated. If he’d put too much faith in the rationality of an emotional creature, and she’d taken his caution for an insult. The wall of fire was currently concealing her exact expression.

“Shall I be frank with you?” she asked. “As a warrior trained, you seem as though you would appreciate that.”

Utoq put a finger to his chin for a moment, then nodded.

“You don’t have a defense against us,” the regent shook her head. “Not really. If we decide that your city will fall, then your city will fall. The only open question is how many lives will be lost in the taking.”

Against the will of his own warrior’s pride, the Water Tribe’s diplomat kept his silence. The assembled might he had already seen on his way here lent considerable credence to her words. If just the army he had already seen came to call, especially had they the sense to time their attack with the midnight sun, then the battle would be hard-fought indeed.

“Consider the forces you have seen assembled simply on your journey here, to treat with us. Consider that what you have witnessed is only a fraction of the armies that can be assembled for an invasion fleet. And finally, consider that the return of the comet that will signal a final end to this war – to all wars – is now only four and a half years away. I am given to understand that its light will fill the northern skies at the same time of year when the moon is not to be found for months on end. You know what that means.”

“…Yes,” his tone was grim.

Arnook’s marital brother had always been academically inclined for his tribe. He’d read the histories. He’d seen the preserved reports that daring scouts had brought back from the Northern Air Temple, ninety-six years before. That sense of perspective was precisely why he, of all the councilors, had been selected for this vital role.

“Now consider this instead: if you do agree to our terms, then we will be your tribe’s greatest defense. There is no sea power on earth that can challenge the assembled might of Fire Navy. Certainly not the Earth Kingdom. How much less so with an army of waterbenders operating in its direct support? Your home, your people will be safer under this agreement than they have been in a century.”

If you keep your word. If.

“Your terms are tantamount to our surrender,” Utoq said, in a low voice. “You didn’t need to summon us here to make that demand.”

“No,” Ursa shook her head. “Though it would be well justified by the military realities of our situation to simply demand your unconditional submission, to be followed by disarmament and occupation. But that is not my aim. My terms are nothing less than an offer to allow your tribe to truly join in the war at the eleventh hour, on the winning side, and reap the rewards thereof. They are tantamount to confederation.”

The dark-skinned man’s mouth visibly tightened, as a knot formed in his gut. He knew right where this was going.

“I want you to listen closely,” she told him. “Because considering our relative positions, I think you’ll find that the proposal I’m about to make is more than generous.”      

“Come on!” Zuko encouraged Yue, from where he stood atop the branch of a cherry tree, surrounded by its half-budded pinkish-white blossoms. “It’s not far. You can do it!”

“I’ve never climbed a tree before,” she called up to him from around ten feet below. “Only mounds of snow.”

“Trees are way less slippery than snow,” he assured her. “You’ll be fine!”

“Um…” there was a momentary trace of uncertainty in her voice before she shook her head once and it vanished. “Yeah, sure!”

Watching the Water Tribe girl trying to work out the best way to grip the deep grey bark in front of her, part of the boy wondered if this was what Azula saw when she looked at him. Her initial attempts were fumbling, primarily because she seemed oblivious to the patterns of bumps and knots that seemed so obvious to him. She was obviously doing her best to mimic his earlier movements, but without much of the unconscious shifting of weight around that had made his own rapid ascent possible. Not to mention the skirt of even her travel clothes was a bit too long to be entirely convenient.

“Put your foot to the right, there’s a good toehold there,” he called down some advice. “No – your other right!”

“I – right,” she nodded, finally getting some support beneath her left side, and hoisting herself up another foot or so.

About halfway up, Yue missed a foothold, giving a little yelp of fright. Zuko hurriedly leaned forward, but the northern girl caught herself, clinging tightly on with both hands and frantically scrabbling at the tree until her foot caught something it could balance on. With a determined expression on her face, she resumed her fumbling advance, refusing to give up. The Fire Nation’s head crawled across the thick cherry branch on all fours as she made her stumbling way up, reaching down as far as he could to offer the princess a hand.

“I gotcha,” her hand groped blindly for a second, before latching onto his. It, he noted, was really soft. “Up you go.”

Zuko hoisted with all his twelve-year-old might. Luckily, Yue wasn’t very heavy.

“Thanks,” she breathed, crawling out onto the sturdy branch on all fours, a little flushed from the exertion.

Yue sat herself down beside Zuko on the branch, her pose demure and ladylike, and took a look out over one of the royal family’s many external gardens with him. The early spring weather was mild and pleasant, the sun overhead providing just enough warmth to be comfortable. A gentle breeze carried with it the scents of the first flowers of spring, and the artificial stream below glistened with the elegant dances of the garden’s vibrant collection of koi fish.

“Yeah,” she went on, after taking another breath or two. “You were right. The view of the gardens from up here is way nicer. You can really see more of how the wisteria connects all the woodwork without the hedges blocking it out. The whole place just… comes together better, when you can take it all in at once.”

“It’ll look better when everything finishes flowering,” he informed her.

“I’ll bet,” she nodded.

“They told me you’re gonna be here a little while. Probably long enough for spring to really get started. You want to see the garden from up here then?”

“…Sure,” she said, with a somewhat hasty smile.

The two children sat there in silence for just a little bit longer, simply taking in the pleasant sight of the royal garden on a comfortable spring afternoon, feeling the gentle wind on their faces.

“Ummm...” Yue’s icy blue eyes had shifted down towards her own slippers, “how do we get down from here, though?”

Zuko cocked his head at her. What had her dad been teaching her, if not basic skills like landing on your feet? He couldn’t imagine his father letting him reach twelve without knowing how to jump down from somewhere.

“You mean they didn’t teach you stuff like that in martial arts training?”

Yue blinked. “You teach girls martial arts here?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Zuko looked nonplussed.

“We um… don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do anything like that.”

“You mean they don’t teach you anything about using your waterbending to defend yourself? Not even the basics?”

“Well, I’m not a waterbender,” she clarified. “But anyway, no, they don’t. Waterbending women in the north are healers, not warriors. Our traditions say we don’t teach girls how to fight.”

The Fire Lord briefly tried and failed to picture Azula being trained as a healer. He’d pity any patients that wound up being assigned to her.

“So, like, not at all?” he asked, just for confirmation. “Even if you wanted to?”

“Mnm mmm,” the girl shook her head again.

Huh, weird place, Zuko thought. Most Fire Nation girls didn’t have to learn to fight like boys did – royal girls were held to a little higher standard in that regard, being of Agni’s bloodline – but it was odd to think that they wouldn’t even teach a girl who wanted to. Backward too.

Returning to the situation at hand, the Fire Lord considered his options briefly. He could just call on the guards for help. His protectors from the Royal Procession were still there, lurking unobtrusively in the shadows by the garden wall’s gate. No doubt they could just go get a ladder from somewhere if he asked them to. But that solution, though simpler, would probably not be the one that would make Mom proud.

A foreign princess, one just about his age, just plopped down in front of him one day and the two left be to do whatever they wanted for hours on end? Zuko might not be very experienced with royal politics, but he wasn’t that naïve. He figured he knew what Mom was thinking about. She’d made them all see Love Amongst the Dragons enough times for that. She’d want him to show the foreign girl a good time himself.

“Just jump,” he told her. “I’ll catch you.”

“Jump?!” her eyes went wide. “I can’t just jump!”

“Sure you can. Like this!”

The twelve-year-old boy promptly slid right off the branch, hitting the grass with both knees bent and rolling once to disperse the force of the impact. He was pleased to say that he transitioned back onto his feet smoothly – maybe even smooth enough that Dad wouldn’t have found anything bad to say about it. He craned his neck to look right back up at the white-haired northern girl, still sitting right there on the cherry tree.

“See?” he said. “It’s not so bad. And you don’t even have to roll or anything.” The Fire Lord walked right over, positioning himself directly beneath her feet. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he nodded, spreading his arms out.

“…O-Okay,” the northern princess took a long, deep breath, closed her eyes, and pushed herself off the branch.

The good news was that Zuko caught her. The bad news was that it was with his face.

The white-haired youngster slammed right into the Fire Lord’s cranium on her way down, her backside bouncing right off of his forehead. Yue was lucky enough to keep falling, right into his waiting arms, which caught her by reflex even while in the process of tumbling backwards. The royal pair collapsed to garden’s verdant ground in a heap, but only one of their falls was cushioned.

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” he could just make out the sound of her voice over the combined force of the ringing in his ears and the boots of the Imperial Firebenders as they raced to his position. “Zuko! Your majesty, are you okay?!” He felt a pair of delicate hands gripping his shoulders.

The boy’s response was to emit a low moan from where he lay flat on the grass.

“We brought healers along with us,” she continued hastily, “if you-”

He cut her off by the simple expedient of brushing one of her arms off him and sitting halfway up, blinking several times. The snow-haired girl’s five heads gradually dissolved back into one.

“Not…” Zuko groaned, rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s… it’s okay,” he breathed. “Really.” Zuko rubbed his noggin one final time, then opened his eyes fully to look directly at his guest. “I’m fine,” he glanced over at the guards that now surrounded the royal pair. “It wasn’t her fault. I asked her to do it. And I’m not hurt.”

Except maybe my pride, he admitted, if only to himself.

From directly on top of him, Yue breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“So you’ve really never seen firebending before?” A little while later, in an altogether different garden, Zuko found that his voice sounded a little bit incredulous. “Not even once?”

“Unh uh,” Yue shook her head. “Just waterbending.”

“That’s just…” the Fire Lord shook his head right back. “Wow.”

“Where would I have seen it?” She looked puzzled. “I haven’t left the north pole before in my life.”

“Okay… fair enough,” he admitted.

“I bet it must be nice,” she said after a brief silence, “being able to start fires to warm up whenever you want. We have to burn extra seal blubber when the sun goes away – that’s when it gets extra cold.”

“Firebenders don’t get cold easily,” he replied, a little puzzled. He thought everyone knew that. “We have an inner flame. It makes us warmer than other people.”

“Lucky,” she did a small, kinda cute pout.

“What do you mean when you say the sun goes away, though?”

“You didn’t know?” She blinked. “For part of the year, the poles have sun all the time, and for part of year there’s no sun. It’s only part of the year that there’s day and night like you have here.”

“Ugh,” Zuko shuddered a little. Being kept away from Agni’s light for so long sounded awful – only the very worst of criminals locked in the harshest prisons of their nation weren’t allowed sunlight. And these people just lived like that for months out of every year? “Don’t you ever want to live somewhere warmer? Somewhere where there’s light?”

“It’s just life,” the foreign princess gave a small shrug. “You get used to it.”

“I don’t think firebenders would,” he confessed.

Which is probably why we’ve mostly left them alone for most of the war, he thought. No colonists in their right mind would want to live there.

“You all like the sun like waterbenders like the moon, right?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“Well, waterbenders in my tribe get used to not seeing the moon for a long time,” she reasoned, “so it seems like firebenders like you could get used to not seeing the sun the same way.”

“I… guess?” he admitted, after considering that for a moment. “But why would we want to?”

“The north pole is beautiful, in its own way,” she told him. “Different from your home – not that your island isn’t beautiful too,” she added quickly, “but the north has its own charm to it. It’s harsh, sure, but it’s our home.”

The young king said nothing for a moment. The soft spring breeze rustled the leaves all around them.

“Maybe… maybe if Uncle Utoq and your mom work out a peace treaty, you could come see it someday,” she offered. “I-If you want to, of course! I could… show you around.”

“I mean… maybe?” he replied. He didn’t want to be rude, but the young lord still didn’t care for the thought of that much snow and ice. And no sun!

“Okay…” she nodded a little bit awkwardly, then trailed off.

A moment of silence passed between them, before a thought struck the black-haired boy.

“Hey, why don’t I show you something? Right now.”

“I thought you already were?”

“I mean something else. Something really cool,” he held up his palm for her, and coaxed an orb of orange and red into life with three fingers of his opposite hand. With just a modicum of effort, it crackled and grew, changing color as it did into a more yellowish shade, until it seemed as though the liege of the Fire Nation held a miniaturized sun in the palm of his hand.

“Agni’s gift,” Yue breathed, reaching out with one long-nailed hand towards the warmth. Her eyes flickered back up to his. “Is it safe?”

“Fire is never completely safe,” Zuko recited one of the very first lessons taught to all children of the Fire Nation, “but it’s under control. If you don’t touch it, you should be fine.”

The princess of the north her hand up to within a few inches of fiery sphere, letting its heat wash over dark skin for a good few seconds. Then she withdrew it, rubbed her hands together, and stuck both just over top and to the side of the bending, as if it were a campfire of sorts.

“Yeah,” she gave satisfied nod after a little while. “We could definitely use something like that in the north pole. You know how hard it is to make fire in a blizzard?”

“That’s just a basic beginner’s trick,” he told her, extinguishing the orb by the simple expedient of closing his fist on it. “I could show you more, if you want.”

“Sure,” the girl said. “I’d like that.”

“Alright,” he took a few steps away from her, towards an open patch of grass. “You’ll wanna stand back for this.”

The palace guest obediently backed off from the Fire Lord, locating a nearby stone bench and settling quietly onto it. Her posture was immaculate, her hands folded neatly across her lap, and her face held an expression of polite interest.

Zuko closed his eyes, took a deep breath to stoke his inner flame, and then did exactly what Master Akihiro had taught him to do. The sequence began with a jet of fire as tall as he was, spraying upwards from his right hand as he leaned his whole body in that direction, holding it for several seconds. Then, abruptly, he became a mirror image of himself, and flames were emerging from his left hand instead. Next his posture straightened up, and both of his arms formed a y-shape with his body.

Yet more fire poured from the palms of Zuko’s hands, this time both of them simultaneously, raising the temperature of the surrounding air noticeably. Slowly, carefully, he rotated his wrists, bringing the flaming jets closer and closer together, until at last they intersected just in front of and above his own head. From the moment he sensed them doing so, his perfectly straight fingers began to painstakingly curl in on themselves. The edges of the twin cones, rather than continuing to dissipate, instead started to coalesce.

The young Fire Lord continued feeding the growing conflagration even while he was shaping it, the sheer effort required to do both of those things while simultaneously holding his creation steady causing him to break out into a sweat. Nonetheless, he persisted, determined not to make a fool of himself in front of this foreign girl as he had in front of Grandpa Azulon. It was, perhaps, about fifteen seconds of solid concentration and increasingly slick palms before he had finally formed the writhing mass into a virtually perfect golden sphere, of the same type used to breach so many an Earth Kingdom defense and about as tall as he was.

With a valiant approximation of a war cry, Ursa’s son thrust one curled fist straight up into the air, sending his creation rocketing skywards. It flew perhaps fifty feet above the royal garden before its equilibrium finally gave out, and all the energy contained within exploded outwards with a loud, firework-like bang. A cloud of black smoke hung briefly in the sky, before being dispersed by the soft spring breeze.

“Woah!” the girl’s icy blue eyes were wide, seeming to sparkle as a shower of sparks rained down over the landscape. “Cool!” She eagerly clapped her delicate hands together. They were so light that they hardly made any sound from this distance, but the boy found that he didn’t much mind that.

“You think so?” despite his sweaty face, the Fire Lord couldn’t help but feel a tinge of heat on his cheeks.

“Definitely!” she replied, with a small grin on her face. “Do you know any more moves like that?”

“Are you kidding me?” Zuko put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. “I’m only the Fire Lord! Of course I know more firebending moves! A whole lot of them!”

“Can I see some?” Yue asked immediately.

“You bet!” the boy king nodded, before taking a few further steps back and adopting a look of intense concentration. “Just sit back and get ready to watch and learn!”

“Aaaaand…” the young Fire Lord whispered to himself as he stalked the garden paths, golden eyes already locked onto his imminent victim. He feigned like he was about to walk right by her hiding spot, before abruptly doubling back and sticking his face right into the vivid green bush. “Gotcha!”

“Oh no!” From where she knelt amidst the foliage, Yue made big dewy eyes and stuck out her lower lip. Entangled as she was, there was no way to run. “Please spare me, Mr. Dragon!”

“Hmmm…” Zuko pretended to consider it. “No.” He reached in and poked her once on the forehead. “You’re it!”

“Darn,” the northerner said with a mock pout on her face.

“Alright,” he reached in a hand, helping the girl up and out of her hiding spot. “Now you have to go put your face to the fountain and count to fifty.”

“I think she already knows that,” came a very familiar and very unwelcome voice from somewhere behind him.

Honestly, he was just sort of surprised the word “dum-dum” wasn’t involved.

“Azula,” he turned to face his sibling. “Don’t you have lessons right now or something?”

“Mom said I could leave early,” the other princess replied, from where she leaned against the ornamental pillar of a wooden gazebo. “I told her I wanted to meet our guest.”

Said guest, currently preoccupied with plucking several bits of twig that had embedded themselves in her elaborately styled hair behind the young king, immediately shifted to face the new arrival directly. A friendly smile quickly appeared on her face.

“Princess Yue,” the snow-haired girl pressed her hands together and bowed her head in a gesture of respect, “of the Northern Water Tribe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Princess?” Azula stood up straight and raised her eyebrow. “Just princess?”

Yue blinked once, stood back up herself, and then nodded.

Zuko’s sister put one hand on her hip. “We’re not even getting the Crown Princess out of this?”

“Uh, well...” the northerner scratched the back of her head somewhat awkwardly. “I’m Papa’s only child, but in the Water Tribe that’s not a title. Only Crown Prince is.”

His sister’s nostrils flared once, and she shook her head with a somewhat sardonic smirk.

“Crown Princess Azula,” she replied after a moment, returning Yue’s earlier gesture, albeit a little more shallowly. “Of the Fire Nation.”

“…It’s a pleasure,” the darker girl repeated, a little hesitantly.

“I know,” the little prodigy told her matter-of-factly.  

“…What do you want, Azula?” her brother asked.

“Why, to participate in the first substantial diplomatic contact the Fire Nation has had with the Water Tribe in ninety-six years,” she said. “Surely you wouldn’t deny me that, Fire Lord Zuko,” she gave him an exaggerated bow.

Why isn’t she calling me Zuzu? He glanced at his sister, then the other princess. She always does that around guests. She knows I hate it.

“So,” Azula asked, one hand again on her hip, “you two were playing hide and seek, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yue answered the other girl before Zuko could. “This garden is really big. It’s a good place for it.”

“Hmmm… not a bad point,” his younger sister tapped the point of one perfectly manicured fingernail on her chin. “But you know,” she gave the Fire Lord a sidelong glance, “that’s a game that’s more fun with three.”

“Do you want to join us, your highness?” Yue asked, glancing queryingly at Zuko.

The young lord sighed internally. Mom would be mad at him if he turned his sister away.

“You can join,” he told Azula before she had a chance to respond. “But… latecomers have to start by being it.”

He had made up that rule on the spot. Call it a Fire Lord’s prerogative.

“Fine by me,” his sibling’s golden eyes seemed to have suddenly acquired an almost predatory gleam in the afternoon sun.

I’m probably going to regret this, Zuko thought.

And he did, too. But maybe just a little less than he expected.

It was a gloomy, cloudy spring morning when yet another messenger hawk arrived in the icy stronghold of the Northern Water Tribe. Well and truly used to seeking out the chieftain himself by now, the intelligent avian found him amidst the lone patch of green amidst the endless white, praying to the ancient patrons of his people in the tribe’s most sacred place. The scroll it presented this time had two seals, one familiar by dint of repeated experience, the other because he had had it custom made for his wife’s brother himself. The tribal council wasted little time in gathering. Numerous pairs of artic blue eyes stared at their ruler, while he read out the preliminary agreement. Their collective silence during the announcement was tense, some might even call it accusatory. Still, no one dared interrupt until Arnook reached the very end.

“Well?” the chief asked his councilors, passing the scroll to the nearest of them, so he could read it for himself. “You all know the stakes. This Ursa is a woman of the Fire Nation. We can count on her pursuing vengeance, if her own firstborn son’s hand is spurned.” He kept his face neutral only by dint of some effort. “If, knowing that, we still opt to turn her down, is there any hope? I will hear anyone’s voice on this matter.”

There was a long period of uncomfortable silence in the icy chamber. Men, cold in spite of their heavy parkas, eyed one warily. Each one of them knew, in his heart of hearts, the answer, but none wanted to look a coward in the eyes of his fellows. But neither did they wish to be known as liars or sycophants. Most settled for simply passing the message back and forth between themselves, scrutinizing the paper as if some sufficiently clever wordplay might somehow alter the broader strategic situation. Or, perhaps, just hiding behind it.

“…No,” Master Pakku eventually answered for all of them. “There would be slim enough hope if it was only the midnight sun we had to contend with. If the full force of the Fire Nation attacks us on the day of Sozin’s Comet, then our city will fall,” he eyed his chieftain solemnly, “and anyone who attempts to resist will die.”

A score and half of dark-skinned, blue-eyed, mostly grey-haired men exchanged glances. Counciler Ummo, slowly, almost painfully, handed the scroll back over to the tribe’s ruler. He had nothing to say. No one did. There wasn’t a single man in that palace chamber that morning that didn’t feel at least some weight of shame on his shoulders, as if in merely being here they somehow betrayed the expectations of their forefathers, whose toil and sacrifice had kept their nation free and independent, kept their culture pure, for so long. But those same ancestors, had they been present that day, would themselves have understood. One great law stood above all others in the northmen’s tribe, one primordial truth that had guided their chieftains since time immemorial. One rule, which had preserved their nation intact throughout nearly a hundred years of war, even while their own sister tribe to the south had been bled almost to the point of death.

In the final accounting, the welfare of the tribe came before anything else.

“It’s settled then,” said Arnook with a grim sense of finality, when no one else spoke up. “We proceed with finalizing my brother’s agreement. Princess Yue will wed Fire Lord Zuko on her sixteenth birthday…” here he paused, taking a deep breath, eyes flickering towards his boots. “And the Northern Water Tribe will declare war on Ba Sing Se, and all who follow her.”

Weeks passed. Weeks in which the Fire Lord Zuko and Princess Yue were given ample time together, each and every day, while their mother and uncle respectively ironed out all the details of their treaty. And their proposed marriage contract. Eventually, though, the time came for the north’s delegation to depart from Caldera, to return to their frozen city and formally ratify the terms of their peace accord and new alliance in the collective presence of their chief, their tribal council, and the entire Northern Water Tribe.

When they did leave, it was in style. The northerners were led back to their ship with a number of gifts in tow, such as gold, spices, teas, silks, and art. All were fine and expensive tokens of goodwill to their prospective confederates. They once more filled between endless ranks of the Fire Army – Ursa’s little secret there was that many of the soldiers present to fill out the ranks were actually from the Domestic Forces and were merely wearing the stockpiled uniforms of frontline units for effect. This time, though, the ranks also included an imperial band, playing rousing triumphal marches from the Fire Nation in between traditional Water Tribe songs of celebration.

The Fire Lady and her children themselves were present to watch the northmen go, standing high atop the white tower overlooking the royal harbor – the same one from which Ursa had given her first public speech on the occasion of Iroh’s temporary return, all those months ago. From such a clear vantage point, they could all easily make out the Water Tribe filing back on to their large, wooden sailing ship in good order, Princess Yue in the very center of their formation, being escorted by four waterbenders on either side of her. They could even see the moment she paused, halfway up the ship’s ramp, and looked back over her shoulder, before her uncle gently led her the rest of the way up.

The regent glanced down at Zuko himself, standing by her right hand. His golden eyes were firmly set upon the ship down below, and his hands folded neatly behind his back. From the way his right hand was gripping his left wrist, she could tell that he was consciously restraining himself from waving down from on high. With a good feeling about this, she turned her waist more fully towards the young Fire Lord.

“So, after all of that, would you say that you liked her?” Ursa asked her son.

“Yeah!” Zuko smiled brightly. “She was fun! Can we have her over again sometime?”

“Of course,” his mother smiled right back. “Of course we can.”

Chapter Text

“It’s not fair!” Mai complained. “What does she have that I don’t have?”

“An entire country for her dowry,” Azula answered from where she leaned against one of the palace hallway’s many exquisite marble pillars. “And the biggest untapped source of benders left on the planet loyal to her family.”

“He doesn’t have to marry her for that!” she protested. “They’d have joined us anyway, if we just twisted their arms enough.”

“Without something dramatic, to establish trust? They might have feared a betrayal from us even more than facing us head-on.”

“But she’s not even Fire Nation! What if… what if the children aren’t firebenders?”

“They will be,” Azula replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You think this will be the first time a Fire Lord married a foreign princess for political advantage?”

As if Agni’s blood could lose out to some frozen barbarian’s line.

“For instance, Fire Lord Sozin’s paternal grandmother was Earth King Hu-Yen’s oldest daughter,” she recited easily from memory. “Didn’t make him or his father earthbenders, did it?”

“I guess not,” her friend begrudgingly admitted.

“It’s the Water Tribe that’ll really have to deal with that problem. Their chiefdom passes down through the male line – or to a son-in-law if there isn’t one,” she gave a faint smirk. “Yue’s an only child. We’re taking the north without a single fire blast.”

Which isn’t a bad concept, if you can pull it off, she acknowledged. Efficient empire-building.

“Well… yeah, but…” Mai looked away from Azula.

“But what?” she resumed her full height, putting a hand on her hip.

“I…I-I…” the pale girl’s cheeks were beet-red, her fists were clenched, and her eyes were firmly locked on her own slippers. “I think I l-love him!”

“…Royalty doesn’t marry for love, Mai,” the princess slowly shook her head. “It marries for politics. That’s just part of the role. It always has been.”

“Well maybe it shouldn’t be!” she half-screamed, tears visible in her eyes.

Azula closed her eyes, shaking her head once, while the other girl’s soft sobs were carried throughout the vast hallway. They went right on doing so for at least a little while.

“…C-Can’t you talk to your mom about this, or s-something?” the noble girl eventually managed.

“If you wanna talk to her, go right ahead.” She shook her head once again. “You know where her office is. I’m not getting involved.”

“Hmph,” Mai sniffed, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Some friend you are.”

“What is it you want me to do? Go and ask my mom to break a treaty that already has the first Fire Nation soldiers recovering from wounds that should have been crippling, should have been fatal, under the ministrations of Water Tribe healers?” She asked, leaning back once more with eyebrow raised. “Or maybe just request that she bring back polygamy to the royal house?”

“I... no, I…” the pale girl looked despondent. “I don’t know.”

Azula sighed, sliding off the ornate marble pillar. She walked across the towering palace hallway and placed one hand on the other girl’s shoulder.

“Look, Mai…” she began, a little uncertainly. “I know you’re disappointed. Why don’t…” she paused. “Why don’t you and I… find Ty Lee, and go down to the kitchens for a bit? We can all bully the servants into making you one of those fruit tarts you like.”

Azula’s friend sniffed once again, wiping her cheeks off with the wrist of her left sleeve, before gradually beginning to nod.

“It’s a disgrace!” Captain Zhao of the Azulon-class battlecruiser Sun’s Fury slammed his hands onto the table. “A Fire Lord, married off to some fur-clad barbarian! The blood of the sun, the pride of the Fire Nation, debased and squandered on a base whore of a lesser element!”

And what a bloodline to lose, he added mentally. Prince Ozai was always the best of them, weak son or no.

“That’s dangerous talk, Captain” said Lieutenant Lee, one of a handful of officers gathered around the exclusive table by the seaside. Like everyone else there he had an ample bowl of rice wine set before him, which he rather lazily rolled with three fingers. “The Fire Lord’s own mother gave the order.”

“And the Fire Lady took heads the last time someone pushed her too far,” Captain Zenji pointed out. “They say the best way to get on her bad side right quick is to bring her kids into it.”

Zhao pursed his lips in answer. He’d heard the story of the assassination attempt at the Rite of the Spirit Lamps – or at least the version of it that reached the Earth Kingdom continent after days of the Fire Isles’ rumormongering. It was good, he’d decided, that Ozai’s other offspring had survived that night, but less so her mother. If Ursa had died heroically then and there, perhaps a more right-thinking regent might have come to power.

“If she thinks the northern savage is a good enough – or useful enough – bride for the Fire Lord then you probably don’t want to be caught saying otherwise,” Captain Tian nodded his agreement in between swallows of wine. “And they say we’re at least getting a whole army of waterbenders out of it. That’s something.”

“Some decisions can’t be justified,” growled Zhao. “Can’t be undone.”

The Fire Nation’s esteemed royal line, forever polluted by the mongrel blood of a fur-clad northern barbarian… he could practically feel his internal temperature rising. My chance at eternal glory, ripped away so some ghost-haired foreign wench can play at being Fire Lady…

“Even if you think so, why bother getting yourself worked up about it?” Lee shrugged, taking another swig from his bowl. “The decision came from the very top. There’s nothing you could do about it anyway.”

Zhao snorted, acrid tufts of smoke emerging from his nostrils, but said nothing more. Instead, the Fire Navy officer picked up his own wine bowl and swirled the clear liquid around in it several times, before finally taking a long, drawn-out swallow of his rice wine. His head tilted in the vague direction of the north, and his eyes narrowed.

“So, Uncle,” Azula asked, “you’re about to leave?” 

“Indeed,” Iroh nodded once, sipping on a mug of reddish-brown tea.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answered honestly, closing his eyes to properly savor the refined bittersweet flavor of the brew, which complimented the smells of springtime that wafted onto the palace balcony quite well. “Wherever the heart takes me, I suppose.”

“Why now?”

“Because the disturbances seem to have died down,” he told her. “No one else seems likely to make trouble for you or your mother. I’m not needed here anymore. And I… have my own needs.”

Azulon’s son found his grip on his teacup tightening, found his vision just slightly blurring at the edges.

“I see…” kneeling across the low table from him, his niece had a cup of her own but seemed wholly focused on the rapidly greying man. “You have any idea how long you’ll be gone?”

“None,” he shook his head. There was a moment of quiet, while the little girl seemed to consider that. “If I might ask a question in turn?”

“I mean… sure, I guess,” she shrugged.

“Is there a reason you’re asking me about this?” the retired general queried. “You and I have never been especially close – were you looking to have me stay, for some reason?”

The little princess’s golden eyes wandered down towards her steaming brew, which she proceeded to nurse in silence for several seconds. Eventually, she took a single, rather refined looking sip from it.

“…It can wait,” she ultimately concluded. “Do what you need to do, Uncle. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I should certainly hope not,” he said, taking another fortifying drink of his tea himself.

“Mmm…” the princess pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “I guess I did have one more question, though.”

“Then I’ll do my best to answer for you.”

“Why did you send me a doll?” she asked the old general. “Zuko’s gift was way cooler.”

“…When I last saw you, you had barely turned seven,” he pointed out. “You liked dolls then. No one told me that had changed.”

“I did not,” she crossed her arms and huffed indignantly. “Those were warriors, not frilly things like that one you sent back from Ba Sing Se.”

“I seem to recall that they too wore dresses.”

“Battle-skirts!”

“…Indeed,” he managed to force a slightly wry smile onto his face.

“…Anyway,” Azula muttered, with a little pout on her face. “Have a safe trip, I guess.”

The Earth Kingdom coastal fortress of Polang Zhe was under attack.

That, in and of itself, was hardly new. As one of the Earth Kingdom’s oldest and strongest fortified harbors, and the very last one of meaningful size along its northwestern coast, it made a natural target for the Fire Navy. The wooden ships of the Earth Navy might not be a match for their steel-hulled enemy counterparts in a straight one to one brawl, but as long as they could keep up the fight the Fire Nation’s shipping, dedicated transports, scouting ships, and even isolated naval patrols could never truly consider themselves safe in these waters. As such, the fleets of Fire Lords Sozin and Azulon alike had tried many times to take it over the years. Captain Ping, current commander of the sea wall, took no small amount of pride in the fact that the fortress had outlived both of the old tyrants.

“Ready!” the black-haired, weather-beaten officer called out to the teams of earthbenders that made up the wall’s first line of defense. “Aim!” He raised his right hand, squinting at distant silhouettes. “Launch!”

Up and down the sea wall, men worked in pairs to hurl shaped boulders the size of carriages further and harder than any catapult in their nation’s arsenal could accomplish. They soared through the sky towards the enemy ships, immense splashes signaling that some had overshot but the deafening clang of stone on metal indicating that more had found their targets. The commanding officer allowed himself a tight smile at the results of his men’s many hours spent in relentless drilling.

“Ballistae! Target the trebuchets’ crew!” the captain shouted. “Loose at will!”

A hail of man-sized, iron-tipped bolts answered him, for the nonbenders manning this wall had access to a plethora of such light, cheap siege engines. These might not be a direct threat to the ugly metal ships themselves, but a boat whose crew couldn’t stick their heads above deck without getting skewered was a boat that posed little threat to the Earth Kingdom defenses.

Polang Zhe had never been taken by storm, not in all the days since Chin the Conqueror who had built it. The wall that shielded its natural harbor and the precious ships within was fifty feet high and thick enough for five men to walk abreast on it. Its mighty sea gates were themselves solid stone, save only for a set of grates deep below the water’s surface near the foundation that served to prevent heavy storms from causing the harbor to flood during the monsoon season, and accessible to ships only through the simultaneous efforts of a dedicated team of earthbenders. Fire Navy ships had tried to ram their way through to the inner harbor on several occasions, and never once achieved anything more than the destruction of their own prows. Well-stocked with provisions and missiles, and well-positioned to receive relief forces from Ba Sing Se itself in only nine days march, it had likewise withstood several attempts to put it to siege.

These ashmakers just don’t know when to quit, Ping thought with a grim smile on his face, as he watched the Fire Navy’s response.

Trebuchets aboard their cruisers unleashed another volley with the enemy’s signature clockwork precision. Some such batteries worked in their proper sets of three, others, the captain noted with satisfaction, had been reduced to two siege engines or even just one by the weight of the fortress’s firepower. Sulfur bombs, boulder-sized balls of flaming pitch, and even metal shells packed tight with blasting jelly, all arced as one high into the air, before descending atop their battlements like a homicidal meteor shower.

It was in vain. The walls of this fortress were thick and sloped, channeling explosions and impacts away from the garrison, with ample crenellations to offer shelter to his soldiers. Yet further earthbenders waited closer to the wall’s base, these the less powerful or experienced of the garrison, with clay and stone to hand, ready to effect hasty repairs to any critically damaged section of wall before the enemy could think to close the distance for an assault. The veteran officer had seen it all before. There was only real novelty about this particular assault – in all the years of warfare he’d seen, the firebenders had never before been mad enough to attack such a formidable bulwark when their own native powers were at their weakest, under the light of a full moon.

It for that reason that Ping’s grim grin didn’t falter, even while he took cover right alongside his men, even when he felt the waves of heat washing over his exposed face. He clutched his wide, protective helmet close to his head, back to a crenellation on the wall, facing the inner harbor, and simply waited the few seconds it took for the tremors to stop. The moment that they did he was back on his feet, belting out fresh orders and assessing damage. It was mostly cosmetic, as usual, with pockmarks, blackened stone, and craters a foot or two deep on the wall’s outer surface making up the vast majority. A few projectiles had overshot the walls but had achieved nothing more than sending sprays of dirt skywards. A lucky hit had delivered an explosive charge to just the right angle to take out a pair of earthbenders and a wall-mounted ballista, along with a small chunk of the upper walkway, but that was all. Minimal losses.

As he issued fresh orders, barking at his troops just as he had done many times before, one corner of the officer’s mind found something else to call strange. Amidst all the bombardment’s fury, some trick of the light had made it seem for a moment as though there had been a glow coming from beneath the water. He shook his head once to clear it of such distractions, before commanding his earthbenders and siege engineers to return fire. At his instruction, teams from below were already racing topside, either hoisting fresh ammunition or else commencing battlefield repairs to the damaged sections of wall.

It was another two or three minutes, and several rounds of back-and-forth bombardments in which Ping lost another eight men but was reasonably confident that he had inflicted five times or more that number of casualties on the enemy, plus not inconsiderable damage to the attacking cruisers’ heavy armor plating, before anything else drew the earthbending captain’s attention away from the task in front of him. That something took the form of a soldier perhaps twenty feet from his own position. Specifically, that luckless man plummeting, screaming and on fire, over the edge of the sea wall into the unforgiving waves below. That was hardly the first time the veteran officer had seen something like that, but the enemy fleet stretched out before them hadn’t launched another volley. Its engineers were still struggling to reload their trebuchets. The attack had come from inside of Polang Zhe.

Ping’s head whipped around behind him just as three of his panicking repair crews were dragged from their position near the base of the sea wall by watery tentacles as thick as a man’s waist. The inner courtyard of the fortress and the harbor it surrounded were meant to be kept clear and open during battle, to ensure smooth transit from sea wall to citadel and to minimize casualties from bombardments that overshot. Right now, it was anything but.

The water’s surface had buckled in many places throughout the harbor. Broken. Visible in the light of the full moon, dozens of men were pouring out of sudden gaping holes that had appeared in the ocean – soldiers in the garb of firebenders mostly, but others too, in unfamiliar uniforms. There were already lights coming from inside the stone dock houses that sheltered their warships. But most of the invaders were rapidly forming into fireteams aimed directly at the earthbenders’ exposed backs. Working in groups of two or three to compensate for their weakened powers at night, the enemy were hurling boulder-sized balls of screaming fire right at them. One, then two, then three teams of artillerist earthbenders were immolated in as many seconds all around him. And those were just the ones their commander saw.

“Earthbenders!” he screamed into the night. “Behind us! Cover, now!”

Those of men that could still hear his voice, still had the presence of mind to listen, drew improvised earthen barricades for them from the raw materials of the wall itself. The silvery moon overhead dulled the explosive power of the enemy’s bending somewhat, giving the survivors precious few extra seconds as more and fiery projectiles slammed into the sea walls from both sides.

The man immediately to Ping’s left, Jeung his name was, collapsed back onto the wall beside him. An icicle the length of soldier’s forearm had speared right through his charred barricade, and from there through his heart.

The Fire Nation must have marched its troops right along the ocean floor, he realized, as he watched his friend of three years breathe his last scant paces from where he sheltered. Must have broken right through the underwater grates that were the wall’s only weakness.

Shouting orders that even he could barely hear over the roar of the flames, the commander of the sea wall looked desperately over his summoned barricade. More men, it must have been hundreds by now, had emerged from their underwater corridors, flooding the open space between Polang Zhe’s sea wall and citadel. Frozen walls had formed around their beachheads, rendering their fresh arrivals virtually impervious to arrow fire. He and his men were already hopelessly cut off, wedged in between the Fire Navy without and the infantry within, all possible lines of retreat to whatever safety the citadel might provide closed off.

No… Captain Ping thought, even as he watched the very ships that this fortress was meant to protect becoming rapidly engulfed by surging firestorms or else sagging as spikes of solid ice pierced their sides. Even as he saw enemy demolition teams racing forwards under the cover of watery shields to plant explosives by the inner citadel’s gates, with only desultory arrow fire from its comparatively undermanned walls to oppose them. No!

He was fortunate, in his own way, that he would not live to see the next dawn. The ignominy of the prison barge that awaited the survivors of the garrison would have sat far worse with him.

“They betrayed us,” Chief Hakoda’s voice was quiet, but his hands trembled as he clutched the scroll bearing the fateful announcement inside his tent. Merely one amongst untold tens of thousands of copies, it was already weeks to months old, having come south aboard one of their few remaining trading vessels returning from around the southern Earth Kingdom. “They sold us out.”

The effective head of the Southern Water Tribe held in his hands a simple, mass-copied royal proclamation, spread far and wide across the world’s foremost empire. From there such news as it carried could hardly help but be carried even further. His people hadn’t even been on the lookout for things like it – it had simply been an inevitable topic of conversation wherever it traveled. By order of the Fire Lady Dowager, the paper proclaimed, and with the blessings of the spirits of sun and moon alike, the engagement of Fire Lord Zuko to Princess Yue of the Northern Water Tribe was hereby announced, along with the formal joining in alliance of these once-enemies. Glory to their union. Glory to the Fire Nation, and to its new confederates of the Water Tribe.

He’d never been to the north pole. Tui and La, he’d only met traders from their sister tribe twice in his entire life, and only then for the space of a few days. The north had never come to help them when Azulon’s raiders had come for them, over and over and over again. Hadn’t even attempted to draw off any of the Fire Navy’s attention, in spite of the multiple messengers that they’d sent north over decades with tales of their plight. The Northern Water Tribe had been doing all of nothing for them the day Kya… the day he had lost Kya. Logically, he ought not to expect his people’s cousins to be doing anything to help them now. Logically, such a betrayal ought not to hurt very much.

It still did.

Teeth clenched so hard that they almost cracked, blue eyes noticeably watery, Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe drove his fist into a nearby pot with such force that it punched a jagged hole right through the fired clay. He resisted the urge to scream out into the cold southern night, allowing himself merely a handful of tears. The dark skin of his closed fist was stained with crimson lines as he withdrew it from the remains of the pottery, but he neither noticed nor truly cared.

“…Dad?” a small voice behind him asked, almost timidly. “What’s wrong?”

“Katara,” his head swung around, even while he hastened to wipe the wet sheen from his face, “you ought to be in bed by now, sweetheart.”

“I heard the crash,” his eleven-year-old daughter stepped warily inside the small hide tent, her blue eyes widening just a little at the sight of his hand. “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“That’s a very kind thing for you to do,” he told her, putting on a brave face. “But you don’t need to worry about me. You just need to worry about getting some rest for the night.”

“But you aren’t alright,” she took another step forward, reaching out towards her father with one small hand. “Are you?”

“…No,” the chief admitted quietly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving up right beside him. “Can I help?”

“Hmmm…”

Deciding it best not to attempt to lie to her – she had already endured so much and found the strength to carry on, his brave daughter – the man simply opted to hold up the scroll right where she could read it, in the dim glow of a whale oil lantern. Her blue eyes flickered from side to side, widening rapidly.

Hakoda hugged his daughter close with his free arm. He wasn’t the only one to weep that night.

“Does it ever bother you?” Zuko asked Yue one evening.

“Does what ever bother me?” the northern princess replied from where she sat.

The two royal children were leaning back against the rock formation at the very lip of Caldera City’s crater, looking out over the lush, green tropical island, the sparkling ocean beyond, and the slowly setting sun on the horizon. A half-finished picnic, with a greater preponderance of mild but savory meats, fruits, and sweet things than was normal for Fire Nation cuisine, lay spread out in front of them.

“Being so far away from your home,” he clarified. “Knowing you’re only going to be gone more.”

“Well… I miss it sometimes, yeah,” she told him, truthfully. “I mean, it’s nice not having to wear a thick parka everywhere all the time and having regular days and nights all year round, but still…” she gave him a little shrug. “Home is home, you know?”

“…Yeah,” the Fire Lord looked down a little. “I get it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m unhappy to be here though,” she told him. “Your island here is beautiful, and you have so many new and nice things we don’t have back in the north pole, and your Mama tries so hard to make me feel welcome every time. Really, you don’t need to feel bad for me.”

“My Mom and I made you leave your home, though. To marry someone you didn’t have any say in picking out.”

“I was always going to marry someone Papa and Mama picked out for me,” the snow-haired girl said, touching her hand to her chest. “And move into his house. That’s how we do things in the north. How we keep everybody close together. It’s like what we’re doing here, just… more local.” She shook her head. “And besides, how is it different for you? You didn’t have any say in picking me out, did you?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Well then, see, we’re in the same boat. Why should you feel bad about it?”

“I’m not leaving my home though.”

“Because your people need you to be here,” she put a gentle hand on one of his shoulders. “Just like my people need me to be here. That’s royalty’s job, isn’t it? To be where their people need them the most?”

“That’s what Mom says,” the young king nodded.

“And it’s an honor for me to serve my tribe,” she touched her chest with her free hand. “To bring our nations closer together. I’d do it willingly. So don’t feel bad for me, okay?”

“…Okay,” he nodded, a bit more slowly this time.

The princess withdrew her hand and sat back against the rock formation.

“…And besides,” the moon’s child went on, after a brief period of silence. “Since I was always going to marry someone…” she looked down at her slippers, and a little pink appeared on her cheeks, “I’m glad it’s someone like you.”

The king’s head jerked suddenly towards her, causing her to look down just a little further. “Really?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” she gave a little nod, timidly glancing over at him.

The black-haired boy’s head turned just as abruptly away from her, and though it might just have been a trick of the light Yue could have swore she spied a little flush on his pale face as well.

The two royal children sat there in silence for a few moments more, the world around them turning more and more orange under the rays of the setting sun.

“Hey,” Zuko said suddenly, as if inspiration had struck. “Do you wanna ask Mom if we can head down to Jiguang Cove tonight? It’s the season for the glowing waves.”

Oceans warm enough to splash around in without catching hypothermia were one of princess’s favorite southern luxuries, but…

“Glowing waves?” Yue blinked, looking back over at him. “I know the sky glows sometimes, but why would waves glow?”

“I dunno,” he confessed with a shrug, before rising to his feet. “But it’s really cool to watch.” The Fire Lord offered the Water Tribe’s princess a hand. “And fun to swim in too.”

“Sure!” Yue grasped it with a smile on her face. “Sounds like fun.”

“The Earth Kingdom defenses are concentrated here,” General Bujing said, indicating a fortification marked out on the map spread out across the throne room with his command rod. “A dangerous battalion of their strongest earthbenders and fiercest warriors.” He used the same rod to move one of the many red stone figurines across the map. “So, I am recommending the 41^st Division.”

“But the 41^st is entirely new recruits,” General Akio interjected from where he knelt across the table. “How do you expect them to defeat a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion?”

“I don’t,” the first officer replied. “They’ll be used as a distraction while we mount an attack from the rear.” There was a smile on his face that the Fire Lady found distinctly unpleasant. “What better to use as bait then fresh meat?”

“No,” came a voice from a young man kneeling beside his uncle near the head of the table before Ursa even had a chance to say anything. “Those soldiers love and defend our nation,” his tone was measured, but firm. Imperial, some might say. “We will not betray them.”

There was a moment of silence, save only for the crackling of the flames surrounding the throne. Several pairs of eyes turned towards its occupant, waiting to see if she would contradict him. Still four years out from his legal majority, the thirteen-year-old boy was only supposed to be here as a first-time observer, to begin learning the intricacies of managing the military council that would one day be his. Legally speaking, he didn’t yet have any decision-making power within this room.

“The Fire Lord has spoken,” the regent confirmed, with a simple nod. Inside, she allowed herself a surge of mother’s pride – though she still resolved to speak to Zuko privately about the etiquette of these meetings later. “And he is right. We are the Fire Nation. We are bound together by ties of honor, from the lowest to the highest. Though we are not afraid to spend lives where necessary,” Ursa shook her head, “we will not waste them. We must find another way.”

And that was the end of that.

“The Ember Island Players are going to be performing in Caldera City next month,” Ursa informed her family, one night over dinner. “Just over at the Dancing Dragon Theatre, in fact. They’re there for two whole weeks,” she clasped her hands together in an almost girlish manner. “They’ll be performing their entire repertoire of plays during those nights, but since we’ve made a family tradition of it the one that we absolutely must go and see is-”

“Oh no…” Azula murmured.

“Not again…” Zuko buried his face in his hands.

“Love Amongst the Dragons,” the Fire Lady finished, hands now on hips and looking rather put out.

Both of the woman’s natural children groaned audibly. The table’s fourth occupant, however, had her little blue eyes sparkling.

“That sounds like a good time,” Yue told the woman who was to become her mother-in-law. “Those guys really put their hearts into it when we saw them on Ember Island, I’m sure they’ll work even harder to impress here in the capital. Do you… do you think we could go and see some of the others too, while they’re here?”

“Thank you, dear,” Ursa said, giving the snow-haired princess a satisfied nod. “And of course we can. Now, you two, don’t you want to be polite to your guest, if not to your poor old mother?”

Two pairs of golden eyes glared daggers at the traitor in their midst.

In an arena of stone, flames the color of the sun clashed with flames the color of starlight.

“Come on, Zuzu,” Azula taunted, as two simultaneous firebending attacks detonated against one another to no noticeable effect. “Even you must be able to do better than that!”

The Fire Lord didn’t bother replying. He’d learned long ago that that was just another way for her to distract you, to get under your skin. Instead, he let his bending speak for him. Jets of golden fire the size of a man’s head emerged with each swing of his fist, a rapid series of such strikes sending a veritable barrage of missile fire his sister’s way. Some were aimed high, some low, some at her left, some at her right.

It didn’t seem to make much of a difference. The princess moved with a dancer’s grace, small jets of the white flames that had become her signature style over the last year emerging simultaneously from two fingers on each hand. Rotating her arms in smooth, regular, circular patterns, she brought her own bending up to sideswipe each of Zuko’s attacks in turn, dispersing each fireball off to one side or the other in dazzling mixtures of yellow and white. All that she did while barely seeming to move from her designated spot in the sparring area, choosing to keep her profile narrow and only just tilt her body to sidestep what strikes she didn’t directly counter.

“You’re never going to overwhelm me like that – you’ll run out of energy long before I do. If you want to get past my defense, you have to break my form,” she lectured. “To do that, you have to destroy my focus. You have to-”

Her brother abruptly chose to lash out with a sudden, low kick, throwing a crescent of fire towards her ankles, following up immediately with a fistful of flames aimed at her chest, a sideways chop that threw another crescent at a downwards angle, towards the fireproof clothing wrapped around her midsection, and finally bringing the tip of his other boot up high to spray a solid yellow cone towards his sibling’s left flank. The only area considered out of bounds for this particular spar was, after all, from the neck up. Everything else was fair game.

Azula’s knees were already halfway bent, and she sprung into the air before the first fiery crescent could strike, with momentary jets of white beneath her heels propelling her higher than muscles alone could take her. Zuko’s golden eyes tracked her arc carefully, waiting until she was just past the point where she could plausibly course correct. It was then that his whole body sprang forward with the force of a coiled spring held too long in tension. Three of the Fire Lord’s limbs combined to unleash a solid, continuous stream of fire right at the spot where his opponent was about to land. Her own hands disappeared into twin orbs of starlight, which merged into one torso-thick, vaguely triangular mass when she slammed them together.

For a moment, the princess was reduced to a rock of white amidst a river of gold, pinned in place by waist-thick fire streams flowing to either side of her, forced to shield herself from raw power with raw power of her own. The air in her vicinity shimmered and distorted from the sheer heat of the conflagration. Both royals held out for a few seconds, before reaching some silent understanding and simultaneously allowing their bending to gutter out. Surrounded by smoke and freshly scarred stonework, Azula rose smoothly from her crouching pose, resuming her full height.

“Would you look at that?” the princess ran one finger along her forehead, then looked idly at something on the very tip of it. “Wonder of wonders. You actually got me to sweat this time. Maybe even the great Fire Lord Zuzu can learn something.” She gave her brother a distinctly predatory grin and formed a painfully bright white orb in one suddenly clawlike hand. “But now it’s my turn. Let’s see how long you can stop me from putting you on your back.”

From where he stood, knees bent and arms still held in a firebending pose, the young Fire Lord felt the perspiration on his own face grow just a little bit more abundant. Still, he met his sister’s pearly white grin with a tight smile of his own. He fell right back into a more defensive stance.

“Give it your best shot.”

“As if I’d ever do anything less,” she scoffed, right before she started throwing fire at him.

“But Papa,” Yue asked, hands held open before her, “why can’t women speak at council meetings?”

She’s been spending too much time with Ursa, Arnook thought a little sadly.

The regular back and forth trips between the north pole and Caldera City were absolutely necessary, of course, to give Yue plenty of time at home as well as time to learn how to properly fill the role of Fire Lady, but it still hurt to see his only child internalizing some of the cultural practices of a foreign land.

“Our traditions, our heritage, our way of life – they are what makes us what we are,” he reminded her. “We cannot lightly toss them aside, Yue. It has been the case that women are banned from speaking there since the days of my father, and his father, and his father, and his father, and many more fathers before them. In these troubled and changing times, we need these anchors to our past more than ever.”

“But isn’t water the element of change?” Yue asked him. “Isn’t the ocean always moving? But it’s still always the ocean – just like we’ll still always be the Water Tribe. I know we need to stay true to who we are, but does that mean we can never accept a new idea? Does that mean we have to do everything exactly the same as it was always done? How were our ways invented if everyone that came before us never tried to see if they could make anything better?”

“The ocean may be water, but so are the great ice sheets,” he told her, “and they are not easily moved. It may be that our distant ancestors tried what you’re suggesting and found the optimal flows for our tribe lie in a different direction.”

“I know men and women are different,” she said, “but does that really mean that we have nothing valuable to say? On matters that affect us all?”

“…You know what our traditions say, Yue.”

“I know that custom says men and women each have their own separate pools of influence, and that there shouldn’t be any overlap between them. But look at the Fire Nation – they let their women speak, and they remember who they are, and they’re advanced and powerful,” his daughter’s eyes looked almost pleading. “Can it really be that bad to just give it a try?”

Spirits, he’d always had a hard time telling his child no.

“It’s long been the case,” he began slowly, “that on our tribe’s council certain members have been expected to speak on behalf of segments of our society – the hunters, the warriors, the fishermen, the ice-shapers, the boat carvers, and so on.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “And that, if they feel the need, that these men will bring their concerns to the councilor who best represents them.”

“…Papa?” there was a little note of anticipation in her voice.

“But, as destiny has seen fit, there is now a new segment of our society with its own, unique sort of concerns.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our healers, those who serve abroad,” he clarified for her. “Most in infirmaries and field hospitals far away from their husbands, who might otherwise intercede for them. An unprecedented situation may serve to justify an unprecedented response to it. It could be argued that these women require their own voice.”

Yue was staring up at her father, hands clasped together and all but holding her breath.

“Still, our traditions are unequivocal: a woman cannot speak on the council, even as Princess of the Northern Water Tribe,” he told her. “And I am no tyrant, who presumes he can rule in their despite.”

The snow-haired girl’s face visibly fell.

“But… an exception has always been made, for the Avatar… and for the sovereigns of foreign lands.”

She looked startled. “W-What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that a woman can speak as the Fire Lady,” he told his daughter. “I’m saying that you will be their voice.”

“M-Me?” she blinked and put a hand to her chest.

“You,” he confirmed. “You are of royal descent. You will have the ear of the Fire Lord. Most of all, you bear the mark of the moon spirit itself. If there is any woman in our tribe who can make a credible claim that her status entitles her words to such weight, it will be you.”

“But I’m not even here all the time… I’m away for months out of the year! And I’ll only be away more often as Fire Lady!”

“And that is probably to your benefit. It puts you in closer contact with those for whom you are to speak. And it may prove less disturbing to the others on the council to hear your words read aloud more often than not – in my own voice,” he promised her.

“So, I’d be… like a test case?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “If there is any value to our tribe in adopting these… methods of the Fire Nation, then it must be demonstrated. Your position will make you the best possible choice for a proof of concept. And it was, after all,” he smiled faintly at her, “your idea.”

Yue put one white-gloved hand to her chin, looked down for a moment, and then slowly began to nod.

“Change comes glacially to the north, if at all,” the chief said. “And only changes that prove their worth many times over. You may expect that this will have been a long running experiment before any further changes are considered.”

“Yes, father.”

Arnook looked tired. “Even this much bending of the rules will be a highly controversial move on my part, you understand?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“You must be prepared to endure quite the cold shoulder,” he warned her. “No one will dare to insult you openly, our princess and by that time the Fire Lord’s own wife, but you may expect many to do all that they can to see you passed over and ignored. And I cannot and will not begin dismissing experienced councilors over it,” the chieftain shook his head once. “Not when we have more need of unity and wisdom than ever.”

“I understand.”

“You must expect that it will take quite a long time for any of them to begin frequently listening to what you have to say on matters of state – if ever they do.”

“I…” the princess took a deep breath. “I do.” She put a gloved hand over her heart, making the best serious face that she could. “I promise you, father, that I won’t let our tribe down. I won’t waste this privilege you give me. I will prove valuable. You can count on me.”

Arnook sighed wearily and gave his only child a half-smile. “Then I… will have faith in you.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Yue threw her arms around his neck.

The Water Tribe’s chief opted simply to hug her back.

“I’m sorry, War Minister Qin,” Ursa shook her head once. “This drilling machine you propose is simply too great an investment for too little return – your most optimistic projections of its construction time have it being completed the spring before Sozin’s Comet at the earliest. Even if it works exactly as well as claimed, what will we get out of it that the comet won’t provide? A much harsher battle to take Ba Sing Se without the comet’s aid, leading to many more casualties on our side than we need to take, and a titanic machine that will then be absolutely useless for anything else and require disassembly. In return for what – taking the city a few weeks earlier than we would anyway?” She passed the scroll in her hand back to the grey-haired overseer of the Fire Nation’s technologists. “This funding request is denied.”

In Caldera City’s best-equipped smithy, a mere few blocks from the palace, the empire’s young Fire Lord hovered over a workbench late into the evening. Bereft of most of his usual finery and clad instead in the simple fireproof uniform of a working man, he painstakingly maneuvered a mechanical cutting head around the simple golden disk laid out flat before him. The young man’s face and hands were slick with sweat, and not just from the effort of sustaining the heat in the nearby furnace – he’d already grown dissatisfied and melted this medallion back down to start all over again three times.

When Yue had mentioned the Water Tribe’s tradition, of a husband to be presenting his future bride a betrothal necklace he had carved himself, usually from stone or whalebone, it had been rather offhandedly. Just a simple comment over dinner, and one of many about how things worked in her frozen homeland, but it had been one that had stuck with Zuko. The Fire Nation didn’t have any direct equivalent. Families exchanged gifts, dowries, and bride prices according to their stations, and the couple would give each other personal tokens as it suited them, but the closest thing to such a set ritual item was the formal marriage contract itself, a decorative copy of which would be retained by both families.

Set out in front of him was a detailed reference sketch, itself the product of several sessions of trial and error, and a consultation with Zhilan. It depicted a stylized rendition of the Fire Nation’s tri-pronged, teardrop flame emblem. The base of this particular version had been expanded, and the upper trident reduced, to accommodate the Water Tribe’s own crescent moon and ocean sigil in the heart of the flames. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, though part of him was starting to regret the sheer complexity of the design he was attempting to impress upon the alloyed gold. But it was much too late to back out now. He’d made the mistake of asking the teenaged girl he knew best for her opinion, and Azula would never let him live it down if he returned with anything less than a perfect rendition of the necklace design.

He could have simply ordered the whole thing done, of course, but that had seemed too impersonal. Not in keeping with traditional intent. Mom, for her part, had thought it was a great idea. She’d been the one to find the capital’s most modern workshop, along with the jewelsmith to give him some abbreviated lessons on the art of working metal.

As he worked, bent over with golden eyes fixed intently on every little dip and bob of his carving tool, Zuko just hoped that when she got back, Yue would like it.

Mom hadn’t wanted Azula here.

Mom hadn’t wanted Azula to leave the capital by herself at all. She was still too young, Ursa said. Still not even of majority age. Only a few months past her fourteenth birthday. She still had so much to learn, so much growing to do. She’d not come in to her full physical or mental prime. Her marriage hadn’t even been arranged. So many milestones she had yet to cross, and she already wanted to get out of Caldera City under her own auspices?

Against that, the royal line’s last daughter had deployed a practical argument of her own. She needed more than just schooling in the arts of command and diplomacy, needed relevant, on-the-ground experience, and these final months of the war were, literally, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to acquire a unique sort of it. Sozin’s Comet would arrive before her fifteenth birthday, and the international situation would change forever. She would never see such conditions again in her lifetime, and who knew what valuable lessons she would miss out on in exchange for a little more schooling that she could, after all, do at any time.

It had taken weeks. Months. The princess had suggested. Had floated ideas. Had offered to take bits of her schooling with her. Had needled. Had even tried asking politely. Had done everything short of begging her mother to let her leave the safety of the tightly controlled capital under her own command. The Fire Lady had been so reluctant that the young woman had actually been on the verge of maybe, possibly asking her brother for assistance when she’d finally received what had to be the world’s shallowest nod one night, after a grand gala in the palace, celebrating the Fire Army’s latest triumph on the distant continent. It might have had something to do with the fine plum wine Mom had been enjoying during the evening’s festivities.

Truth be told, while she certainly did appreciate the chance to sample the unique experience of leadership during wartime, the girl had also had an ulterior motive for her persistent requests: her own position, both now and in the years to come.

The simple fact of the matter was that Zuzu was going to be the Fire Lord of the new era of global empire, once he’d formally assumed his full duties on his seventeenth birthday, and Azula… found the idea of deposing him and his bride-to-be once she’d reached that age herself less appealing than she once might have. It would break Mom’s heart to see her children falling to violence over the Dragon Throne. However short such a contest might prove to be.

And besides, the world that would soon be theirs was ultimately big enough for the both of them. There would be plenty of lands to rule, and one man could hardly do it alone. And if her dear brother ever thought to abuse his royal privilege a little too much, well, not every fire duel necessarily had to escalate into an actual Agni Kai. He’d be fine after a few days with one of Yue’s northern healers. Probably.

That being said, she certainly had no intention of fading into the background while her brother took all the spotlight for himself. She was a daughter of the line of Agni, the greatest firebending prodigy seen in decades, if not centuries, and a relentlessly driven study to boot. She would have her place in the sun, her spot in the histories written of their era, simply because she deserved to have it, and there was no better a time to start laying the groundwork for that story than right now.

War had its manifold costs, certainly, but it also came with its unique chances for glory. Azula wanted some of that glory for herself, while there was still time to acquire it. She wanted to be involved in the last real war’s endgame, somehow. A daughter of the royal house ought not to let such a momentous occasion go by without leaving her own mark on it.

Regardless of that wish, the Fire Lady had absolutely, categorically refused to allow the underaged Crown Princess to personally go anywhere near a battlefield. Prodigious daughter or no, she would not permit there to be another Lu Ten. Admittedly, the military rationale of avoiding giving the badly pressed enemy the morale boost of another dead royal, and the dynastic one of not wishing to further deplete the Fire Nation’s limited stock of divine-blooded heirs, had at least the vague semblance of a point to it. However irritating such logic might be to the fire singing in her blood. Even if it did make so many years of relentless martial and tactical drills feel rather like they were going to waste.

And that was what had brought the Fire Nation’s princess here instead of a war front, sitting on a comfortable chair on a well-appointed balcony, atop the pagoda tower on her royal sloop. The sun was shining, the sea all around here was a particularly vivid shade of blue, the thrumming steam engine could just barely be felt, and the salty ocean breeze was overwhelming whatever smell the brew in the nearby pot might be emitting. Of the royal craft’s formidable escort fleet, only the Empire-class battleship Eye of Agni was visible from her current vantage point.

“The southern seas are lovely this time of year,” said the balcony’s sole other occupant. “Don’t you think so?”

Uncle had said he was tagging along of his own volition. Azula was pretty sure Mom had asked her brother-in-law to watch her back during her first solo excursion.

“I’m not here to go sightseeing,” she reminded him in a clipped tone.

“Ah, but does that mean we cannot take the chance to do so anyway? What’s the point of visiting new places, if you cannot even take the chance to properly enjoy them?”

“To get things done.”

Obviously, she added in her head.

“If you don’t find beauty in what you do, no achievement will ever bring you satisfaction,” he advised, in what he evidently thought was a sage tone.

“You know something I do find beautiful?”

“Oh?” he looked over at her, one eyebrow raised.

“The boom of an incoming tropical storm. The roar of a fierce eastern wind.” she told him. “The crack of lightning.”

Uncle opened his mouth to say something, but his niece beat him to it.

“But of course,” Azula crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, then mimed the tone she’d heard a thousand times before. “Lightning is very dangerous, and not for children. I’ll teach you when you’re a woman grown.”

The retired general paused, then gave her a slight nod.

Her nostrils flared in response, emitting small tufts of smoke that were rapidly dispersed by the strong ocean breeze.

Must both of them underestimate me because of my age?

Whatever else might be said about Father, at least he hadn’t made that mistake.

“Well, regardless,” she continued, sitting back in her chair, “if you’re not going to make yourself useful in that way, you could at least pour me some of that.”

“Happily,” he said, filling one of the cups with a generous helping of his white dragon bush brew before passing it over to his niece.

Azula took the cup with a simple, curt nod, and brought the steaming brew to her lips for a single refined sip. It was sweet, but not overly so, and mildly spiced, with a pleasant aftertaste. Even a little bit brought a tingly sense of heat to one’s insides, vigor to one’s muscles. The old man was, admittedly, pretty good for a cup of tea if nothing else.

The princess sat there on her ship’s balcony, listening to the sounds of the churning waves, the subtle drumbeat of the sloop’s advanced engine, and incessant quiet humming of her father’s older brother, himself gazing out over the sparkling blue horizon with teacup in hand. The cool sea breeze whipping past her face only grew stronger, but her inner flame and the warm brew she slowly sipped at were more than enough to keep it from getting uncomfortable. So, she simply sat back, one leg crossed over top of the other, and mentally rehearsed.

Seconds became minutes, minutes dragged on into hours, cawing seabirds pinwheeled through the clear skies overhead, and the whole time Uncle wouldn’t stop his cheerful humming. The royal sloop proceeded forward, slicing effortlessly through churning surf, even while its escorts gradually fell away, maintaining a respectful distance from the planned rendezvous point in accordance with their arrangements. The princess felt her pulse quicken just a fraction as the endpoint of her course finally crested the horizon, sat an empty cup down on the table and leaned forward as it slowly came into view. Her destination was a nameless, uninhabited chunk of grey rock that only barely qualified as an island. For perhaps the first time in the little speck’s history, though, another ship was already waiting there. Waiting for her arrival.

Azula rose smoothly to her feet, smoothed out the wrinkles in her robes, and proceeded back inside. She briefly checked her appearance in a mirror, ensuring her flame headpiece was on correctly and that there wasn’t one hair out of place. Once she was satisfied that all was in order, she proceeded down the pagoda’s stairs, towards the mustering point for her little landing party. The princess’s chosen assignment for today was simple: complete the Fire Nation’s clearing of the seas by securing the surrender of the Southern Water Tribe.

Chapter Text

It had long been a truism that it was cheaper, orders of magnitude cheaper, to move goods in bulk over water rather than land. Therefore, most people did it whenever it was possible. The Fire Nation’s own advanced maritime shipping industry and the fact that it had long possessed the largest mercantile fleet in the world probably accounted for much of how its economy was able to bear the twin burdens of overseas expansion and maintaining domestic living standards so well.

And that was also why the colonial ports dotting the Earth Kingdom’s former western coast made such excellent places to pick up supplies during the long journeys between the world’s northernmost point and its balmy tropics. There was no reason, after all, that a princess should travel anything less than comfortably.

It was just such a stopover that had brought Yue to the once-little town of Caifu, where river and ocean met. The former fishing village was now a bustling port city connecting the Fire Nation proper to its colonies and allies deeper in the interior. She and her entourage had a few hours to stretch their legs on dry land while supplies were haggled for and taken aboard at a rather relaxed pace. Unlike Hinaka and her other handmaidens and healers, the Fire Lord’s bride-to-be didn’t really have the option to do so in relative anonymity. Even if her ever-present bodyguards didn’t give the game away, the mark of the moon spirit atop her head made her impossible to miss, if one knew what to look for. And, considering how widely her portrait had circulated throughout the world’s greatest empire these last four years, many did.

“And I think you’ll find,” the man beside her was saying, as the two walked side by side through a seaside market, ignoring the gawking onlookers for the most part, “that we’ll all benefit from this arrangement I’m proposing – your tribe, the imperial government, and my clan. The southern continent sees so little trade with the north pole now, but given the proper investment and permissions, I’m certain that we could remedy that situation. There are so many fine goods down south I think your people would be interested in.”

With the lifting of the eight-decade blockade of their waters, there had certainly never been a better time in living memory to acquire foreign goods in the north. The fishing, whaling, and hunting were quite bountiful in frigid seas the Fire Nation had never bothered trying to exploit, so they simply had more to go around, and with the seceding of the formerly disputed islands to their sovereignty they finally had a domestic source of timber. Yes, daily life was a little more inconvenient, and construction a bit more difficult, with so many of their waterbenders away at one time, but the remittances that most opted to send back home did at least partially ameliorate that. Meanwhile, their own traders were finally free to come and go as they wished throughout most of the world’s ports. Many chose not to go far from home, of course, but there were always the bold and curious few.

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” she kept her voice noncommittal. “I’m sure you make very nice things, but it is an awfully long way for a ship to travel. I can’t imagine such imports would be inexpensive. Even the Fire Nation can’t afford to subsidize nonessentials. The throne would require a return on its investment.”

“Less so than you might suppose,” he smiled at her. “My people have a lot of experience in moving commodities from one end of the Earth Kingdom to the other, and still offering competitive prices at the end of it. Adding one more small leg to the journey won’t fundamentally alter the equation.”

“…I’ll mention your proposal to him,” Yue eventually said, after mulling it over.

“That’s all I can ask.”

As the soon-to-be highest-ranking figure in the Fire Nation’s court who was neither a bender nor a native of that tropical land, the princess supposed that it was rather natural that many supplicants from the Earth Kingdom continent would gravitate towards her whenever it was possible. The alternatives when attempting to petition the imperial government were to face the copper-pinching bureaucracy or attempt to gain a moment’s attention from the Fire Lord or his regent. Not exactly an easy task at the best of times, considering the levels of competition.

Lao and Poppy Beifong were no different. As the Fire Nation’s grip over the oceans and the Earth Kingdom’s river network, and thus by far the largest portion of its trade, had tightened, it was inevitable that the merchant clan’s agents would come into closer and closer contact with those of the Dragon Throne. Informal arrangements and accommodations had been required of both sides. The day that tanks under General Xian had rolled up to Gaoling’s outskirts, demanding its change of allegiance in exchange for continued local autonomy, had really only served to make them official.

“But if I’m not being overly bold,” Lao continued speaking, “when I heard your highness’s ship was coming to town, I took the liberty of having my men prepare a little sample of what I’m talking about for your personal perusal. A mere three chests of our most pleasing southern wares of the sort I propose to trade. There is, of course, no charge. I merely wish for you to see for yourself what I had in mind.”  

“That kind of extravagance isn’t going to harm your clan’s finances in Caifu, is it?” she asked, visions of expensive silks and spices, teas and jewelry dancing in her mind’s eye. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head. “But if it helps ease your mind at all – and I’m not being too forward – then consider them to be an early wedding present.”

“In that case, I’d be honored to accept,” the snow-haired princess said, bowing her head just the correct amount.

“You’re the one who does me honor,” the merchant lord returned the bow with a smile.

Such pleasant people, Yue thought as they went, it’s a shame they were never able to have any children.

Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe watched, arms folded, as the ugly metal behemoth drew closer and closer. Unlike most of the Fire Nation ships it had pretentions to culture, with its gleaming black and gold prow, reduced engine profile, and the pagoda tower mounted in place of the usual bridge superstructure. But the underlying design was still built on the same lines as that of all their other warships, the armored hull made of that exact same soulless grey steel he had come to know so well. To him, this beast was still as ugly as the hearts of the people that had built it.

His opinions on its aesthetics aside, the massive ship was simply too large to pull completely up to the rocky outcrop in the ocean that was their chosen meeting ground without risking its hull scraping against other, lesser rocks. Instead, once it had drawn as near as it safely could, the prow ramp simply descended with a hiss of steam – and the ocean parted around it.

They’re rubbing it in my face, he thought.

Filing down the ramp in a neat, ordered row was a party of six warriors, to match Bato and the five others standing at the chieftain’s back. Four of these wore brighter red and gold versions of the standard firebender’s uniform, presumably to denote elite status. But at the rear of the bunch, moving their hands fluidly in tandem with the lapping waves that surrounded them… Hakoda had to consciously fight the instinct to draw his blade.

The traitors’ uniforms were cast in the style of their chosen masters, sharing the same broad outline as those of ordinary Fire Army benders, with the same bell-shaped masked helmets, armored chests with tassets dangling from below the belt, pointed-toed armored boots, and vambraces that left their hands alone exposed. These armor sets, though, were shades of bright cobalt and deep navy blue, trimmed with white and – to Hakoda’s deep disgust – featuring the sigil of the Water Tribe prominently in place of the Fire Nation’s own. The masks, rather than the usual stark skull white and light grey, were instead designed to resemble variations of traditional tribal war paint. The usual decorative crimson helmet spikes had been replaced by backwards-curling navy ones that stuck up in a manner vaguely resembling a wolf’s ears.

All in all, the South’s chief felt these waterbenders were a living, breathing insult to the generations of depredations that his tribe had suffered, and he found that he hated them a good deal more than even the firebenders they surrounded themselves with. At least the ashmakers hadn’t had a choice but to be what they were.

But the six warriors weren’t all there was to the delegation arriving to meet him. Stepping off the extended ramp onto the rocky seabed was another figure, this was in fine crimson and gold robes rather than armor, and Hakoda’s eyes widened just a bit when he got a good look at them. The Fire Nation’s emissary was no more than a teenaged girl, one who looked to have about the same number of years behind her as Katara now would, at least if he were any judge.

The royal ship’s ramp retracted behind the landing party, which made good time onto dry land proper, and only then allowed the sea to fill in the gaps where they had walked. The soldiers of the Fire Nation formed up opposite the free Water Tribe’s own, and then as one stepped to either side to give their charge unimpeded access. The southern man got a good look at her as she approached.

“I am Crown Princess Azula of the Fire Nation,” said emissary stepped forward and announced herself with a small nod, hands folded neatly behind her back. “Sister to Fire Lord Zuko, daughter of Fire Lady Ursa and Prince Ozai.”

On the one hand, a girl. On the other, a princess. From the way the hawk-born letters that had arranged this rendezvous had been composed, he’d been expecting to see someone older across from him. And someone, well, male. But family ties counted for much in the Fire Nation, he supposed. Either that or they simply didn’t take him seriously.

“Chief Hakoda,” he replied curtly, returning it as one would to an equal. “Of the Southern Water Tribe.”

If she took an insult at his posture, her face didn’t show it. “I’m pleased to finally meet you face-to-face.”

I can’t say I reciprocate.

“I suppose that’s… good to hear,” he replied.

“But I suppose it would be rather unfair of me to expect you to say the same, at least right now,” the corner of her mouth twitched. “Would you prefer that we simply proceeded straight to the point of this parley?”

Wordlessly, he nodded.

“Very well then.” She took a second to scrutinize him. “You look like you have something you want to say.”

“Our waterbenders,” Hakoda’s voice was gruff as he glanced briefly at the pair of traitors. “You took them. Where are they?”

“…I suppose it’s natural that you would want to know. Your kinsmen asked us about that too, a while back,” Azula informed him.

“And what did you tell them?”

“The same thing I’ll now tell you: we don’t have them anymore.” The royal girl’s golden eyes bored straight into his. “Fire Lord Azulon saw to that more than a decade ago, back when I was little more than a toddler.”

After everything this hellish war had brought upon their tribe, the most surprising thing to its chief was just how little that answer surprised him.

“You murdered them,” he pronounced in a low monotone. “You murdered all of them.”

“Do you have any idea of how hard it is to hold someone prisoner when they can acquire bending material by going to the restroom?” the princess asked him, an eyebrow raised. “We tried everything to keep them alive – at enormous unnecessary expense to ourselves, I might add – from underground prisons to specialized machines pumping in dry air to regimented schedules for hydration.”

“You could simply have released them,” he growled.

“And sent them right back to the front lines, to fight against and kill our soldiers?” she looked as though the idea genuinely upset her. “It’s not as though your tribe was standing back like the north. What were we to tell the wives and children of our men, when they came home with icicles speared through their chests?”

That you and your family have been condemning them to death in a pointless, bloody war for a hundred years just for the sake of your own greed. That, if they had any real taste for vengeance, they’d have strung the whole lot of you up a long time ago.

“We did everything we could to keep your waterbenders alive, but neutralized,” she shook her head, “but it wasn’t enough. The breaking point came when one of them attempted an escape on the night of a full moon. There were casualties. Gruesome casualties.”

The southern chieftain said nothing.

“So, the Fire Lord at the time decided that enough was enough, and that we weren’t risking the lives of any more of our people to spare the lives of such dangerous enemy prisoners in a time of war.” Her tone was grim. “And that, Chief Hakoda, is why there are no more southern waterbenders for us to return to you.”

“Because you killed them all,” he repeated.

She raised an eyebrow. “How many Water Tribe lives – how many of your friends, your family, your neighbors – would you be willing to sacrifice to spare the lives of firebending prisoners?”

He glared down at her. “You don’t know us.”

“Please don’t pretend like you’re shocked by this,” Azula placed one hand on her hip. “Neither of us are naïve children. What is the tradition of the Southern Water Tribe regarding prisoners taken and left un-ransomed during the long, sunless months of the polar winter? What have you been doing with the sailors of the Fire Navy you’ve managed to capture during your campaigns at sea – storing them in the bottom of your cutters?”

The warships of the Southern Water Tribe were not huge. Supplies amongst their small fleet were not infinite. There wasn’t always a nearby Earth Kingdom stronghold that had the capacity to store enemy prisoners for the long haul. La’s gills, sometimes it seemed like there were fewer of those with every passing moon.

Hakoda had never been, like some were in his tribe, one to enjoy the looks in those men’s eyes – especially not those ones only just entering into their own manhood. But setting them free just meant putting fellow tribesmen, those who looked to him for leadership and protection, into even more mortal peril during a war that they were already losing. What choice did he have?

“And how did you deal with your own waterbending criminals, even less containable in your homeland than they proved to be in ours?” Azula gestured at one of the traitorous waterbernders. “I believe that San Ku here can fill us both in on the traditional methods used in your sister tribe.”

“Amputation,” the masked man said, arms crossed over his chest. “Violent waterbending offenders have one of their hands removed for each offense. If that fails to keep them subdued – execution. Straight to execution for murder, or violation of a woman.”

“Quite,” she nodded. “And I would hazard a guess that your own customary methods in the south are similar – if not harsher, for lack of ability of your tribe to care for as many disabled members.”

Hakoda chose not to answer, which was answer enough.

“So please, don’t pretend to some moral high ground by claiming that the Southern Water Tribe would never execute its prisoners of war,” she continued. “Or that you’ve never undertaken extreme measures to protect the people of your land from dangerous waterbenders. Those captured members of your tribe who can't bend remain alive in our custody. These, we are willing to release.”

If nothing else, the sheer audacity this girl had in trying to draw equivalence between the war’s architects and its victims was almost impressive in its own way, he begrudgingly admitted. Certainly, it momentarily stole the words out of his own mouth.

“And we’re just supposed to… what?” he eventually managed to reply. “Forget that you executed all of our waterbenders?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And in turn we’ll forget about the prisoners from our nation that you’ve thrown overboard to drown. Don’t bother denying it, we know what happens when there aren’t convenient Earth Kingdom dungeons in easy sailing range. We understand that the necessities of war can be ugly and are willing to forsake any grudges if you agree to reciprocate. What would be the point of holding onto them now?”

Easy enough for a spoiled princess to say, he thought to himself. One who’s never come home to find someone close to them with her face scorched beyond human recognition.

“It’s much better just to be reasonable about things,” she kept speaking. “Like, for instance, your current strategic situation.”

The chief’s expression, already unpleasant, became outright grim.

“The Northern Water Tribe has been contributing its forces to our armies for the past four years, meaning that we continue to enjoy all the advantages provided by waterbenders at sea, while you don’t.”

The southern man glared daggers at one of his uniformed northern cousins who, if he had any reaction to it, concealed it perfectly behind the warpaint-esque mask.

“As to the Earth Kingdom, Ba Sing Se is effectively all that’s left, after Omashu surrendered early this winter. Their fleet has been worn down to virtually nothing. There’s no help coming to you from that quarter. Not that they really ever bothered doing that in the first place. For all that your tribe helped defend their homes over the years, they never really seemed to return the favor, did they? Our records show no Earth warships defending your tribe during the raiding years.”

The worst part of her words, he reflected, was how bitterly true they were.

“For all intents and purposes, then, your fleet is all alone now, against the power of the greatest navy this world has ever seen. Your men risk death daily for the king of a foreign city that’s already written them off, while their own villages, their own families, are left totally exposed to anyone who happens by. A single lowly pirate ship could make off with everything your tribe has left in the south pole if they had anything worth the effort required to steal it. Ask yourself: is that really a position you care to remain in?”

“…What are your terms, then?” he asked gruffly, after a short period of silence.

“They’re all in here,” the princess informed him, reaching out one hand to one of the red-uniformed guards and having a scroll placed in it. She offered it to the chief, who begrudgingly accepted. “But, to sum up, we demand your immediate surrender and total withdrawal from the war, your personal oath of fealty to the Dragon Throne along with that of your tribe, and a few further concessions in return for an immediate halt to hostilities, a staggered release of those nonbending prisoners of war that we do still hold, and assistance with rebuilding your tribe.”

“Concessions such as?” the dark-skinned man unfurled the paper and began to read.

“To prevent any chance of… subsequent regrettable decision-making, your tribe will undergo disarmament, to be immediately followed by reconstruction, all conducted under the supervision of a contingent from your cousins to the north.”

Don’t want to do it yourself, I see, he thought. You ashmakers always did hate the snow.

“Chief Arnook specifically requested it to be that way,” she said, as if she’d read his mind. “He’s asked for us to be lenient with you, and my mother agreed.”

I’m so glad to know that after abandoning us, betraying us, and helping the enemy to fight us, he’s finally found it in his traitorous heart to give a damn about his kin. Just so long as he doesn’t have to stick his own neck out for it, the man thought bitterly, as his eyes flickered up and down the terms of surrender that she’d presented him.

“As such we won’t require you to pay any taxes or contribute any levies to our armies for a number of years, until after your tribe has had a chance to properly get back on its feet. The only things we’ll ask you to turn over before Sozin’s Comet arrives are your tools of war and-”

“You want my…” Hakoda’s hands trembled as they clutched the scroll, half with fear, half with rage. “My…”

“Yes, we also want your children,” she gave a single nod. “Sokka and… Katara,” the way she pronounced the names, it was as though she was tasting a strange foreign dish for the first time. “Yes, those were their names.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “How did you-”

“Know about them?” she offered little more than a shrug. “The Dragon Throne has the finest spy network in the world. We know everything. Including how to ensure good behavior in those who might otherwise be recalcitrant.”

“With hostages,” he said in an accusatory tone.

“Yes,” she told him matter-of-factly. “But, please, don’t pretend that we mean to treat them poorly, as if they were mere prisoners. If I had had a mind to do something like that, I have more than enough ships in my fleet to have had both of them brought to this parley in chains.”

Hakoda’s dark face grew just a little paler at that thought.

“Your son and daughter will be welcomed as honored guests of the Fire Nation, receive the best education in our schools for foreign students, and so long as you and your people don’t do anything foolish, they will be returned to your tribe as adults, ready to use what they’ve learned in a more advanced nation for the benefit of their homeland.”

You mean for your benefit.

“And, as long as things proceed smoothly in the south pole, you’ll be allowed to visit them periodically,” the princess promised. “And see for yourself that the Fire Nation’s word is good.”

I haven’t seen my children in two years, he thought, with more than a little guilt.

“And on that subject, any future waterbenders born amongst your tribe will also be relocated, in this case to the north,” she continued, “to receive proper training.”

You mean indoctrination.

“And will then serve a term in our army or medical corps in recompense, alongside the other waterbenders, before being returned to the south pole. If they wish to do so at that time, of course.”

“Of course,” he said, not bothering to disguise his bitter tone.

Ensuring even what benders we’re allowed under your new order are trained up into loyal lapdogs for your brother first, his inner voice was even less pleased. You really have thought of everything, princess.

“And that’s about all, really,” the light-skinned girl concluded.

“And if we refuse?” Hakoda’s voice was little more than a growl.

“Then you will have proven yourselves beyond the reach of reason, and as such the Fire Navy will devote itself to hunting down and sinking every last one of your ships,” she informed him, her tone deadly serious. “And at the exact same time we’re doing that, we will send even more of our own ships to the south pole, scour it clean of any scraps of remaining resistance, and relocate whatever is left of your tribe to the islands now under the control of your northern kinsmen where they can be properly reeducated.” She looked him right in the eyes. “You know perfectly well that there’s nothing you can do to stop us, if we set our minds to that.”

“So, that’s how it is? Bow down, or you’ll exterminate us.”

“Please cease the dramatics. What we’ll do is eliminate those among you that refuse to see sense, and contain the remainder for rehabilitation,” the girl’s voice was cold, clinical. “If your tribe’s eradication was what we sought in this war, it could have been accomplished decades ago. Once we had your waterbenders, we had overcome your greatest defense. There was nothing preventing us from simply continuing to press the attack until your entire tribe had been eliminated. There still isn’t anything preventing us from doing it tomorrow. You know this – don’t pretend you don’t.”

“…And you didn’t.”

Azula shook her head. “We didn’t. Quite the contrary – for decades now we’ve gone out of our way to avoid exterminating you.”

Hakoda said nothing, merely looking away.

“You and your entire family have lived your lives wholly at the Fire Nation’s mercy,” she pressed on. “And you still do. So, please, don’t lie to yourself that we have none, and that this is some sort of trick. We don’t need any tricks.” She crossed her arms. “We win. You lose. It’s as simple as that. The winner decides the terms, and we’re really not asking for much more than a simple acknowledgement of the facts and a few assurances of our own present and future safety. In return we offer mercy, and a part in a better future.”

“This is what you call mercy?”

“Be honest with yourself: we don’t need your people, or your culture, or your land, or your resources, or anything else you have. Everything in the Southern Water Tribe is completely superfluous to the Fire Nation. We offer your people life, and hope, and help, for no more reason than that we choose to be gracious in victory,” she told him. “So yes, I call that mercy.”

“Generations of war… a hundred years of sacrifice…” Spirits, he could almost feel the eyes of his ancestors looking down upon him. Could feel Kya’s eyes upon him. “All coming to this?”

“Remember that my people too have born the weight of long sacrifice,” Azula told him. “And still choose to extend a hand of beneficence at the end of it all, rather than simply crush you beneath an iron fist.”

For just a moment, in spite of himself, Hakoda felt a twinge of pity for this princess. It was easy, between her threatening words and mature demeanor, to forget that she seemed about his daughter’s age. That she had no more chosen to be born the granddaughter of the man responsible for the decimation of his tribe and his wife’s murder than he had chosen his own grandparents. That she was, in her own way, a victim of this monstrous conflict as well.

“I know you think us all monsters.” She shook her head. “But fire can give life, just as readily as it can kill. You can be part of that, and a part of a golden age to come, or you can condemn yourself and those around you to a futile quest for vengeance that can only end one way. Hope or hatred: you are free to choose.”

The southern chieftain’s blue eyes wandered back down to the scroll he’d been handed, towards the Fire Nation’s list of demands and promises of support.

“Should you accept, the safety of your children is absolutely guaranteed,” she assured him while he read through it a second time. “As a show of good faith to begin our new relationship, I’ll come and collect them personally. There’s no safer or more honorable way for them to be transported to the Fire Islands than onboard a royal ship.”

“We’re not an autocracy like you,” he looked up from the paper, rolling it back up. “In our tribe, all men have a voice. Even if I wanted to decide on this right now, I couldn’t.”

“You need time to consult with the rest of your fleet.”

“Yes.”

“Sozin’s Comet is almost upon us, and the Fire Navy has much work to do,” the princess warned. “If you’re not back here within two weeks with an answer for me, we’ll be forced to assume that the answer is no. The state of ceasefire will be at an end.”

That’s… tight, the southern man thought of all the scattered sailing ships that would need to be drawn together to meet that deadline. Part of him wondered if the whole thing was a trap, a ploy to lure the tribe’s fleet all to one place, so their soulless metal ships could smash the whole thing in one go. Then he thought back to the girl’s earlier words, grimacing visibly as he recognized the ugly truth at the heart of them.

The Fire Nation didn’t need any tricks.

“Please, Chief Hakoda,” Azula said, her voice now surprisingly soft. “Do the right thing. For yourself. For your people. For your children.”

Far away in the Rujong Mountains, an assassin stalked his prey.

Lijeung Su was this one’s name. An earthbender, like most of his quarry these days, and the tribal chief of the Su-Rin clan of hill-dwellers. He was a hard one to track, the mercenary would give him that much. The mountainous terrain in which he’d chosen to dwell was treacherous at the best of times, with an abundance of stone to pull from. The sheer icy could of the current season only made the problem more intractable. Even a few experienced benders working together could easily trigger entire avalanches from atop these snowy peaks, as more than one Fire Nation patrol squad had found out to its cost.

This was the seventh such job he’d taken on for Lady Ursa since the beginning of the year that was soon to close out, and the sixth to have taken him into the war-torn Earth Kingdom continent. The only exception to the rule this year had been a particularly brazen pirate crew that had thought its daring raids on Fire Nation merchant shipping very bold and clever, shortly before they exploded. Overall, he thought it had been a pretty good year. The work was steady and completely legal (at least as far as countries that mattered were concerned), the down time between missions generous but not to the degree that it became boring, and the pay good. Quite good, in fact.

The Fire Lord’s regent had actually paid him more than enough money to retire several times over across the years he’d spent on her retainer. She’d never asked him directly, but the question had been present in the Fire Lady’s eyes for quite a while now. Why didn’t he just take his fortune and kick back on a beach somewhere? Did he have some sort of sick child he was secretly supporting? Was there some manner of mind-blowingly expensive addiction that he had to feed?

The truth was much more mundane: he just didn’t want to.

From experience, the mercenary knew that periods of prolonged inactivity, or even hedonism, were only tolerable to him in short spurts. Vacations he only enjoyed for the first handful of weeks. And no thrill he’d ever found quite matched the allure of the extended chase, the exaltation of a difficult prey finally run down, the sense of triumph that came with their explosive demise. This job, he felt in the deepest part of his being, was simply what he had been born to do, and he had no particular plans to give it up while what was left of his body was still strong and energetic. And if he got in the Dragon Throne’s good books and advanced the cause of his homeland at the same time, even better. He supposed that he was lucky to have been born when he was. There didn’t look to be any shortage of work for him any time in the foreseeable future. And when he did finally start feeling his years? He’d have enough money saved to do anything, go anywhere, and live however he felt like while he did it.

As he worked his way slowly but steadily through the rough mountainous terrain, sticking closely to the tree line, he kept a careful watch on the figures below him. A handful of men and women, dressed mostly in dull brown and dirty, undyed white, were leading a small train of half-emaciated herd animals through one of many nameless, craggy mountain passes that littered this region. They were enemies, of that his sources were quite certain, but they were ancillary targets at best.

“He’s become the effective leader of not just his own wandering clan, but several other usually squabbling uncooperative tribes as well. No more than one or two thousand warriors all told, but more than capable of causing recurring issues for our supply trains passing through the region. And he’s refused to even discuss the possibility of peace with our officers,” Lady Ursa had said, describing his current quarry. “The last messenger the army sent into his clan’s holdings did not return.”

That, more than anything, was probably what had sealed his fate. Resistance to a military invasion was, if misguided, at least somewhat forgivable, given appropriate gestures of submission. And it wasn’t particularly strategically important resistance at that. But an attack on an emissary speaking, ultimately, on behalf of the Dragon Throne? That could not go unanswered.

“He thinks himself safe in those mountains. He believes himself beyond the Fire Nation’s reach. Show him that he is wrong.”

That, the mercenary could certainly do.

He followed those particular tribesmen first for hours, then for days. Keeping a wary distance, sticking closely to the forests and rocky outcrops, sleeping only as much as required and living off uncooked trail rations. They led him on a merry, winding route through the Rujong, stopping every so often to graze their small pack on what little greenery was left at this time of year or refill their waterskins from clear mountain streams. Twice they had to kill one of the creatures after it had taken a bad fall, and both times there was noticeably less meat to harvest from them than there ought to have been.

Even the earthbenders of the clans couldn’t survive off of dirt and rocks. They had had herds, once, grazed amidst the surrounding lowland hills and mountain plateaus, but the Fire Army had seized many of those animals for its own use when it became clear that the hill tribes rejected any accommodations with the invaders. Only a small fraction of the once-great populations of local curved horn haresheep yet remained in their hands. The allied tribes would be getting hungry in these already lean winter months. Getting restless. They’d be demanding answers as to what their leader intended to do about it. Sooner or later, Su would have to rally them, if he hoped to keep his position.

And that, per the information he’d extracted from captured tribal couriers, was exactly what was getting ready to happen now. That was why he was stalking these nomads. And that was why he kept at it, watching, waiting in patient silence for his opportunity. And, eventually, he got it.

The mercenary’s patience was finally rewarded with the sight of yet another mountain cavern, one of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of both natural and artificial tunnels boring into the mountain roots. This one, though, was both well-concealed by groves of trees and bigger than most, perhaps expanded by earthbending, and positioned beside a flowing stream. He guessed that about a hundred souls were already within when he first laid eyes on it, with perhaps that number again trickling in over the course of the following day.

Ursa’s agent waited patiently, avoiding sentries and bored tribals alike, until the masses of people finally received whatever signal they had been waiting for, and gathered themselves into vaguely concentric circles around the greatest of their bonfires. Those women allowed to be present, as was common in such cultures, were seated separately from the adult men, positioned further away from the center, and mixed in with them were the older males of the tribes’ children. It seemed they hadn’t thought it wise to bring the young ones.

Withered old men of several tribes began by leading the masses in some strange chant, praising spirts of sky and mountain. One of the fattest of the animals present was slaughtered, its meat cut out and passed around raw in tiny chunks, until all who were present had partaken of the bloody communion. Finally, after this was done, one particular man stepped forward, pulling off his winter hood and the brown wrap that had previously concealed his lower face.

The Fire Lady’s hunter could recognize his quarry from the sketches even at this distance – his vision had always been quite good.

Lijeung Su stepped up, right in the middle of the assembled clans, and with a single gesture summoned a pillar of earth from right beneath his own feet. From on high, in a deep baritone voice he began what would doubtless have been a very inspiring speech about the pillaging and indignities and desecrations inflicted upon them and their lands by the invaders, if only his hunter had cared even slightly about what he had to say.

The tall, well-built man paused, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind his rocky outcrop across the valley, right into the line of fire. A brief set of crackling noises echoed throughout the crag, right before a spectacular explosion sent the nearest of the huddled tribesmen flying with its sheer concussive force, and doubtless deafened many more inside the confines of that cave. The stone pillar, and the man atop it, were in an instant reduced to so many tiny pieces of smoking rubble and charred meat, raining down directly atop the shocked faces of the tribal demagogue’s closest followers.

Nodding with satisfaction, the assassin turned and began to sprint, his pace formidable in spite of the weight of his metal leg. In his experience, it would take a minute, perhaps two, for the shellshock to wear off enough for a truly organized pursuit to begin. Longer, if they decided to try and wrestle their herding hounds into a semblance of a hunting pack first. Plenty of time to slip away into the evergreen forest, and from there to meet back up with the Fire Army’s waiting scouts.

Perhaps, he reflected as he went, the Fire Nation’s negotiations would go better with Su’s successor.

“Princess Azula’s successful broker of the Southern Water Tribe’s surrender removes the very last shred of enemy naval activity from the board,” Admiral Chan announced at the latest war meeting, days later, with a satisfied look on his face. “All that’s left of the Earth Navy is bottled up in the waterways inside Ba Sing Se and trapped there behind our blockade. I’m pleased to report that even any theoretical attack on the Fire Islands is now completely impossible. The seas are ours.”

From where she sat atop the Dragon Throne, shielded by a wall of yellow fire, Ursa looked down once again upon her military council. Most of the faces before her were still the same holdovers that she had inherited from Azulon, few officers wanting to retire right before the climactic end to their hundred years of war – with, of course, a notable exception. Right before the throne, in the spot usually occupied by his currently absent uncle, dressed in shining black armor trimmed with rich gold, hair bound tightly into an immaculate topknot with a golden flame headpiece, and face a model of practiced neutrality, was the young Fire Lord himself.

Lean, sharp-featured, and with pale skin devoid of any of the usual teenage scars or blemishes, Zuko looked so much like a younger version of his father now. Like the Ozai that could have been – should have been. Like the handsome prince with fire in his eyes that Ursa had met so many years ago, the one who had made her young heart flutter all throughout their courtship. Before he’d devolved into the hateful creature that she had ultimately killed. The resemblance was almost uncanny.

“That’s excellent news,” she told the admiral. “Uninterrupted transport and commerce can only be a boon to the empire.”

Nodding respectfully, Chan bowed a little at the waist, and then knelt back down upon his cushion.

“Admiral Qiang,” Ursa addressed the treasonous, executed Admiral Jinhai’s replacement on the war council, an experienced commander formerly of the Northern Fleet. “Your report?”

“Of course, your majesty,” the weather-worn man rose to his feet, greying brown hair growing a shade less dark. “Our efforts to control the Earth Kingdom’s river network continue to bear fruit. With the assistance of our waterbenders, the Fire Navy has succeeded in cutting down enemy, rebel, and pirate attacks on waterways by over three fourths since this time last year. Of our damming projects, seven have been completed on schedule, four more are suffering delays but are projected to be online by the start of the next year, and only one,” he indicated a particular forested spot in the northeastern Earth Kingdom, “has been destroyed by enemy action.”

“Have those responsible been dealt with?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“Not yet,” he shook his head. “We haven’t been able to locate the perpetrators yet, but rest assured, my lady, our soldiers are on their trail. We’ll root them out soon enough.”

“See to it that you do,” she said, then gestured at the map. “You may continue.”

“Regardless of a few temporary setbacks, our control over the continent’s arteries has only grown stronger. With northern benders deployed alongside our own on the dams and river patrol craft, neither pirates nor rebels nor Earth Army holdouts have proven any match for our forces,” Qiang tapped the map once. “As of right now, we decide what traffic is allowed up and down all but two of the Earth Kingdom’s largest rivers. No enemy force of any size can use them to move quickly, while our forces can strike anywhere along the water’s edge with little to no warning.”

“And we’ve kept up our operational tempo there, as discussed previously?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Resistance along the riverbanks continues to wane. The knowledge that our troops can appear upon the water or from underneath it in numbers, at any time day or night, is a powerful deterrent. There aren’t too many riverside villages chiefs or elders left who feel it wise to tempt our vengeance by being intransigent.”

“Very good. See to it that your forces continue to focus on eliminating any sources of trouble along the riverbanks, come the spring,” she instructed. “Those waterways will be vital for regular movement of men and material during our long-term occupation of the continent, and the sooner we bring them completely to heel the sooner we can turn our full attention to resolving matters elsewhere.”

“It will be done, Lady Ursa,” he said.

She nodded once at the officer, who promptly returned to his kneeling position.

“And General Ten,” the Fire Lady gestured at the final presenter for this strategic review. “Your report?”

“Thank you, my lady,” the councilor stroked his pointed beard once before rising to his feet. “With the surrender of Omashu, there are no major cities outside of the capital remaining in Earth Kingdom hands,” he began, tapping the Mad King’s former city once for emphasis. “And few enough medium-sized ones. The Fire Army continues to concentrate most of its forces on the continent on keeping such areas and their immediate surroundings pacified.”

As it should be. As long as they were denied a real locus of resistance, the largely rural population of the Earth Kingdom could not be wielded against their forces by hopelessly reactionary provincial nobility or half-mad demagogues. Such figures could not hope to turn the locals’ still-significant numerical advantage into meaningful opposition to Fire Nation control. At least, not on anything more than a strictly local level.

“Our control on the ground outside of the major cities and waterways is still… patchy,” he admitted, “and reliant on local allies of sometimes dubious quality. There are still numerous slices of inland Earth Kingdom territory where there’s not a Fire Army soldier to be found for a hundred miles in any direction. But those still resisting us from such places lack an organizational principle. They lack the means to easily move significant numbers of troops to a relevant battlefield. And, most of all, they lack trust in one another.” He looked up at Ursa. “Too many of their countrymen have seen the light of reason for the remainder to place unreserved faith in men that they don’t know personally.”

The Fire Lady gave a satisfied nod. That incident a little more than three years back, where Duke Huang had feigned alliance with the self-proclaimed “Prince” Yuhang and Lords Haoran and Dong Yang, only to lead all three of his confederates straight into a Fire Army ambush, had certainly left quite the impression on the remainder of the Earth Kingdom’s provincial nobility. Tragically, the good duke had been subsequently assassinated by an outraged local partisan some months later, leaving his widow to look after his expanded holdings. Though in thanks for his efforts, Huang’s two young sons now studied at a prestigious school not far from Caldera itself.

“And so, while they may be able to make digesting the Earth Kingdom after the fall of Ba Sing Se a prolonged process, they can do nothing to alter the overall course of the war,” the general gave a tight smile. “We can save defeating them in detail for later.”

There was a round of nods all around the table at that. No sense in the Fire Army bleeding itself unduly, especially at this stage of the war. There was a decent chance many such holdouts would simply give up on their own, after seeing what was coming next.

“And that brings us nicely to my final point. In accordance with our existing strategy, the preparations for the grand muster have begun,” he continued, gesturing at various ports dotting the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom coastlines with his command rod. “Supplies are being stockpiled along our logistical hubs and the first army groups have already detached and assembled on the coasts for transport. As long as the navy does its part, everything should proceed on schedule.”

“It will,” Admiral Chan said, with a slight frown.

“Excellent,” the other man said, simply. “That being the case, Lady Ursa, Fire Lord Zuko, you should have the full springtime launch. It should be something to behold.”

That it should, Ursa thought, with a little smile on her face.

The military parade that they had planned for that upcoming spring would be the largest in more than fifteen years, eclipsing even that which preceded General Iroh’s prior attack on the impenetrable city. Units from the Fire Nation and Northern Water Tribe alike would march from cities near the base of Caldera’s mountain to the Royal Plaza by the harbor, tens of thousands of soldiers getting the chance to revel in the roars of cheering crowds and triumphal marches before departing aboard the single greatest deployment of Fire Navy vessels in a decade. It ought to do wonders for their morale, and that of the populace, hopefully doing away with any lingering sense of trepidation over the fate of the last army to depart on their particular mission. If War Minister Qin lived up to his promises, they might even have something truly special ready for public display by then.

“Very good,” she said aloud.

“Our army out of Caldera will meet up with the other detachments on the near bank of West Lake,” he indicated the rendezvous point with his command rod, “and cross as a group, with the navy and our northern allies ensuring their safe passage. Then they will link up with our existing forces on the far side, entrench themselves against enemy counterattack, and wait.”

Ursa had been adamant about that particular bit for years. The last Siege of Ba Sing Se had cost the Fire Nation far, far too much. These soldiers trusted their lives to their lord and his regent, and she would not be found wasting them by repeating the elderly Azulon’s impatient insistence that the impenetrable city be attacked conventionally. Not when providence was gifting them a much better way.

The officer took a deep breath. “And on the day that Sozin’s Comet finally arrives, the walls will crumble, and a hundred thousand Fire Army troops will take Ba Sing Se by storm. With the power it will grant us, all resistance within the Earth Kingdom’s capital will have been crushed hours before that heavenly gift leaves the sky, and the war will finally be won.” As he folded his arms behind his back, General Ten’s smile was wolfish. “And I’m very pleased to report that there is nothing left in this world that can stop us.”

Atop the Dragon Throne, the Fire Lady allowed herself a confident smile of her own.

Meanwhile, far, far to the south, Princess Azula stepped out onto the balcony of her royal sloop with a complacent smile of her own. She walked over to the railing and leaned forward with both arms folded atop the beautiful carved metal, taking in the sight of the icy terrain ahead. The polar winds were bitter and strong this time of year, but her inner flame was more than powerful enough to keep her from getting uncomfortable.

Commanding the subjugation of an entire nation, even one so dramatically reduced as the Southern Water Tribe, and making the world’s oceans officially a set of Fire Nation lakes was a decent enough start to her upward trajectory. Yes, the little detour she’d had to take as a gesture of kindness was a bit annoying, but at the speed her fine ship cut through the water it wouldn’t be too much time wasted. Soon enough, she’d be dropping off the simple tribals and then she’d… and then… and…

And what in Agni’s name was that light?

Chapter Text

“Get out of our village!” Sokka demanded angrily. “Now!”

“Grandmother, please.” Katara pled. “Don't let Sokka do this!”

“Katara, you knew going on that ship was forbidden.” Kanna’s wrinkled face looked wary, sporting a deep frown. “Sokka is right. I think it best if the airbender leaves.”

“Fine! Then I'm banished, too!” the young waterbender snapped, seizing her new friend by the arm. “Come on Aang, let's g-”

The moment her blue eyes turned towards the southern seas, Katara’s eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped, and she let out a small gasp.

“What?” Sokka’s voice was still laden with suspicion. “What do you se-”

Her brother’s words fell away in favor of a matching gasp.

“What?” the young bald boy looked from sister to brother and back again, confused about the sudden disinterest in him. “What is it? Is something the matter?”

“Dad!” Katara and Sokka breathed as one.

“Dad! Dad!” came the bittersweet sound of voices that Chief Hakoda hadn’t heard in far, far too long.

Virtually the moment that the man’s war cutter was secured in place, the excited voices of his children heralded the coming of a small stampede over the ice. With Katara and Sokka in the lead, virtually the entirety of their polar village that was fit to run came cresting over the icy hill surrounding the harbor. Women eager to see their husbands, children their fathers, mothers their sons, all of them crashed into the returning war fleet in a little tide of humanity. Hakoda himself was all but bowled over by the sudden force of his son, then daughter, smashing right into him with arms outstretched.

“Sokka,” he said, pulling both in close as they hugged him tight. “Katara.”

As he stared down at his teenaged daughter and son, there was an unfathomable sadness in Hakoda’s gaze.

“Look at you two,” he said after a little while, with a half-smile on his face. “You’ve grown so much.”

“We’ve missed you,” Katara, her neck wrapped in her father’s arm, smiled even while she cried. “We all missed you! We worried that we might never see you again!”

“I never worried about that,” Sokka boasted, brushing something off his cheek. “I knew you’d make it back.”

“I promised you both I would,” he acknowledged. “And I tried every day to make sure I’d live up to it.” Hakoda hugged the two teenagers even closer. “I’ve missed the two of you every day.”

There was a short interval where what was left of their little family simply stood there at dockside, locked in an embrace years in the making while similar reunions happened all around them. For his part, the chieftain simply opted to savor the moment while it lasted and said nothing more until the arms wrapped around his chest began to loosen.

Time waits for no man, though, and when they inevitably did the man looked up from his offspring’s embrace to see another child standing not far away from the three of them. He wasn’t mingling with the returning warriors like everyone else, this strange-looking boy, just hanging back a little and watching them, a staff of some kind clutched in one hand.

“And who might this be?” Hakoda said, scrutinizing the youngster.

The bald boy was clearly not Water Tribe, with his grey eyes and pale skin. The yellow and orange clothing he wore didn’t match up with those of any tribal groups that he knew of in the Earth Kingdom. And that was saying nothing of the blue arrow tattoos on his head and hands. How had he found them, and what was he doing here?

“I’m Aang,” the boy said, a cheerful grin on his face. “Nice to meetcha!”

“Can you believe it, Dad?” his daughter asked, gesturing at her strange companion with one gloved hand. “He’s an airbender! A real airbender!”

“An airbender? Here?” the chieftain’s eyebrow rose. His gaze turned back to his children. “When did this happen?”

“Just earlier today. We sorta… found him in an iceburg,” Katara offered by way of explanation.

“Him and his fluffy white snot monster,” Sokka grumbled.

“Appa still needed to get some rest,” the boy said, “so he laid down to catch a quick nap.”

“I… see,” said the older man, though he did not. Still, reason asserted itself quickly. “Questions can wait. For now, young man, you’ll want to be away from here.” His expression grew firmer. “And quickly.”

“What? Why?” Katara asked. “Is this about the flare?”

“…Are you banishing me too?” Aang’s countenance was sorrowful.

“Banishing you?” Hakoda asked. “And what flare?” He blinked in sudden realization. “Katara, you didn’t?”

“She absolutely did!” Sokka informed his father. “Aang led her right onto the old Fire Navy ship and sent a signal flare right up!”

“Eh heh…” his daughter scratched the back of her head and grinned feebly.

“You know that’s forbidden, Katara,” the chief shook his head.

Sokka gave his sister a look that screamed “I told you so”.

“But that isn’t what’s important at the moment.”

The boy’s face visibly fell. The girl briefly stuck her tongue out at him.

“The important thing for you, Aang, is that you need to be out of sight of this place for right now. Sokka, Katara,” he took a deep, trembling breath as the wind picked up around him. “I’m going to have to ask you… to gather your things.”

“You’re finally taking me to war with you?!” his son looked far, far happier at that idea than he ought.

“You found me a waterbending teacher?!” his daughter guessed, with visible excitement.

For a moment, the siblings’ father simply stood there and stared down at his children, getting a good look at them and how they had grown these last two years. Committing their faces back into his memory, even as the expressions on them slowly started to wane. The wind around the family grew stronger, carrying in snowflakes from upon the ocean. Slowly, deliberately, the chief of the Water Tribe bent over and leaned in, pulling both of his confused children into his chest. Tears glistened on his dark cheeks. Behind them all, the young airbender looked up in confusion, as he noticed something strange.

The freshly falling snow was black.

“I’m sorry,” Hakoda whispered to them. “I’m so sorry.”

The Fire Nation ship pulling up into the Water Tribe’s harbor was by far the largest one Katara had ever seen, much bigger than the hated raiding ships. It was also pretentious in its ugliness, with an obviously decorative pagoda tower looking down over the dull steel of the deck. In her opinion the beast’s attempts to appear more aesthetically pleasing did nothing but add a loathsome sort of dishonesty to the naked brutality that the regular Fire Navy ships possessed.

Besides it just being an ugly thing, the girl wondered for a moment how the behemoth intended to pull up alongside the much smaller wooden cutters in a space never meant for something even half its size. Part of her briefly harbored a fantasy of it piercing its hull on the ice, or simply limping off in shame. What happened instead was that the ice at the harbor’s edge cracked and split, liquifying and resolidifying over and over again until it had formed enough of an impromptu dock to allow the black and gold prow ramp to begin descending with a hiss of steam.

Katara saw red.

Filing down the ramp were two rows of eight uniformed firebenders, dressed in masked outfits of gold and imperial red, surrounding a light-skinned girl looking to be about her age. The girl was dressed in polished black armor rimmed with gold, crimson clothing, and wore her hair in a tight topknot fitted with a golden flame hairpiece. She had her arms folded behind her back and a neutral expression on her face, but it was what was coming up behind her that really caught the tribal girl’s attention.

There, filing in at the back of the ranks of firebenders, were no less than four men in hateful blue and white armor patterned after the Fire Nation’s. As they descended the ship’s ramp, she could clearly make out the sigil of the Water Tribe – their sigil – emblazoned on the uniforms’ chests. That was the last straw.

The young girl didn’t think. She didn’t remember what Dad had said about peace, and protecting the tribe, and how this was the only way he had left to keep her and her brother safe in the face of a navy that outnumbered theirs by orders of magnitude. All she saw before her was a vision of Mom’s corpse, and waterbenders standing shoulder to shoulder with those who had done it.

“How could you?!” she heard her mouth shriek, as she broke her father’s grip on her shoulder.

“Katara!” Dad yelled from behind her. “Don’t!”

She didn’t hear him, and she wouldn’t have known what it meant even if she had. She didn’t know what she was doing, or what she hoped to achieve. All she knew was a blind and primal rage, and that her feet were carrying her forward in a maddened dash straight for her treacherous cousins.

And then the next instant she was thrown forward, overbalancing as ice raced up her boots, reaching halfway to her knees, solidifying almost instantaneously to pin her in place. Only the restraints themselves prevented her from toppling face-first into the snow. Even while she struggled to regain her full height, liquid water rose up on either side of her, wrapping itself quickly around her wrists before resuming its frozen state, leaving her arms effectively chained to the ground as well.

“You cowards! You traitors!” Katara screamed, thrashing madly against the icy restraints, to little avail. “We’re your sister tribe! They’re the enemy! Help us!”

“We are helping you, girl,” one of the masked men replied. “Helping you not do something you’ll really regret.”

“Crazy woman,” another muttered, shaking his helmeted head.

None of the waterbenders did anything but watch as the young southerner continued to struggle valiantly against her confines.

“What I think you mean,” said the young woman in the black armor, “is that we were the enemy. You’ll want to get over that mindset, Katara – the war is over, at least as far as you and your tribe are concerned. Unless you’re aiming to singlehandedly restart it right now?”

“Urk… argh…” she thrashed again against the bindings, to no more effect than before. It still took a moment for her adrenaline-soaked brain to process what had just been said. She stared at the newcomer, breathing heavily. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

“Well, that’s a rather rude introduction even for a tribal,” the other girl said, eliciting a few chuckles from her red-armored henchmen. “And I’m surprised your father hasn’t filled you in.”

“I did,” Hakoda said, from where he and Sokka still stood a few paces back.

“I see,” the girl frowned. “While I’m not accustomed to repetition, I suppose there’s always an exception.” She looked Katara dead in the eye, her dark golden gaze piercing. “You have the honor of addressing Crown Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, the Fire Lord’s own sister. And while I understand that the concept of peace may be novel to you, I expect better manners from the guests I came such a long way to pick up. Understand?”

Katara just glared at her. Royalty or no, she refused to be cowed by this girl and her gaggle of lackies and traitors.

“Perhaps your father neglected to inform you that both you and the Southern Water Tribe are now subjects of the Dragon Throne,” she continued. “And that in our country, there are penalties for publicly disrespecting royalty."

“Leave my sister alone!”

“Sokka!” her father hissed in a low voice. “Don’t make this worse.”

“You only talk tough because you’ve got a line of men to hide behind, princess,” Sokka pointed at her. “Without them you’re just a two-copper bully.”

Behind her brother, Dad slapped his forehead with his free hand.

“Is this… is this meant to be a joke?” she asked, one thin eyebrow raised. “Am I supposed to be laughing right now? Or are your children both attempting to get me to nullify our agreement on the spot?”

“I didn’t tell them to do this,” the chieftain growled, tightening his grip on his son’s shoulder, and pulling him back a pace. “Our tribe doesn’t want further conflict.”

“That’s reassuring to hear,” Azula said, eyes flicking from Sokka to Katara and back again. “It’s a shame your children don’t seem to share that goal.”

“They will behave themselves,” Hakoda said. “For the sake of everyone in our tribe. Won’t you, Sokka?”

“Yes,” her brother muttered, still glaring daggers at the foreigner.

“And Katara?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Katara,” Dad’s voice grew harder.

“…Yes,” she eventually managed, not able to bring herself to look up at the invaders while she did.          

“Release her,” the girl said, and almost at once the ice pinning the southerner in place splashed to her feet as a puddle.

Reluctantly, Katara backed up several steps, taking her place beside her father and brother. Part of her wanted to be mad at Dad for holding her back, but she was already using all her available anger on the traitors and their slave-mistress, while the more rational side of her knew he was only trying to do his best for the tribe. She grabbed her left wrist in her right hand and rubbed it, staring back up at the girl and her toadies across the ice. Once again, there was a brief period where no one said anything.

“And look, Sokka, I get it. You’re uneducated, uncultured, and uncouth. You don’t really have any idea what you’re doing, so I’m not going to challenge you to an Agni Kai over the insult you’ve made to my honor.” Azula put one hand on her hip. “Instead…” she paused, and a sinister little gleam appeared in her eyes. “I’ll give you a once-in-lifetime chance to back up your words. You and me, right now. No bending. No weapons. First to hit the ground loses.”

“You’re on!” Sokka’s response was so quick his father didn’t even have time to get a word in.

“Sokka!” Hakoda snapped at his son, worry writ large on his face. “This is not what your family or the tribe needs right now!”

“But Dad, she’s-”

“A royal of the Fire Nation doesn’t shy away from challenges,” Azula interrupted. “But nor does she take them unduly personally. Sokka is preemptively given a royal pardon for any and all offenses that are about to occur. Whatever happens,” the princess looked to her men, her tone firm, “my soldiers are not to retaliate.”

“…And the rest of your nation?” the southern chieftain looked at her suspiciously.

“So distrustful. Haven’t you and I already established that I don’t require any tricks?” she gave an exaggerated little sigh. “But yes, neither will the Fire Nation as a whole retaliate, even should I be defeated. Your new lords respect the sanctity of the challenge.”

Katara glared daggers at the girl’s words, while beside her Sokka wrenched his shoulder free of Dad’s grip. Annoying, rude, sometimes sexist or not, she still hoped her brother would humiliate this foreign wench right in front of all her toadies. It would serve her right for what she wanted to do.

“…Alright,” Hakoda sighed wearily himself, giving his son a worried look.

“When I put your son in his place though, I expect the same respect will be extended, and no irrational grudges will be held.” Azula held up one hand, and her assembly of guards spread out to form a wide, half-circle arena around the lot of them. “And that you’ll remember how reasonable I was in the face of naked and unprovoked aggression from ill-disciplined tribal children.”

“You’re going down, princess,” Sokka declared, taking several steps forward, facing the princess directly.

“We’ll see,” she took several steps forward herself, a smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth.

The two of them slowly began moving side to side, circling one another slowly atop the ice. Katara’s brother’s face was a mask of pure concentration, while his opponent had a calm expression on her face and a gleam in her eyes. After a few seconds, the two stopped directly across from one another, as if by some subconscious agreement.

“Well then,” the foreigner opened one of her palms in an inviting gesture, “what are you waiting for? This is your chance to get the best of me. Take your best shot.”

Sokka tensed, waited just for the space of a heartbeat more, and then exploded into motion. The young tribal crossed the gap between the two in half a dozen paces, a war cry on his lips, and threw his entire weight into a balled fist aimed straight for the princess’s face. Her face, however, declined to cooperate.

The Fire Nation royal stood her ground until the last possible second, then sidestepped lightly just as the Water Tribe boy came within striking distance. Sokka’s fist passed right through the space her head had just vacated, and his momentum carried him forward another pace and a half. Before he had a chance to recover, she drove one crimson-clothed elbow into the base of his neck, overbalancing him and letting the ice underfoot do the rest. Katara’s brother gave a startled yelp and plunged forward, face first, into the packed snow.

“Well, that was quick,” Azula said.

“Sokka, are you alright?” Hakoda took a step towards his son, one had outstretched.

“Pffft! Ptewy!” Sokka spat out a mouthful of fresh, slightly blackened polar snow and pushed himself up onto one knee. He gritted his teeth and gave his opponent a death glare, his pride clearly more hurt than anything else.

“Have you learned your lesson?” she asked in an almost bored tone, hands on hips. “Or are you yearning to try again?”

“You fight like a coward!” he accused, eliciting a small smirk from his sister and a low groan from his father. “You didn’t face me head-on!”

“You’re older and larger than me, and male,” she replied, in a tone of voice where the ‘duh’ was only implied. “Why would I do that? I’m already putting myself at a disadvantage by disallowing bending.”

“Hmph,” Katara’s brother snorted, rising fully to his feet. “You got lucky once.”

“I was born lucky,” she replied, shifting her stance. “But that last time was so quick, I suppose I’ve a few moments to spare to give you another crack at it.”

“Come on, Sokka!” Katara cheered from the sidelines. “You can do it!”

“No,” Azula said drily. “He can’t.”

That seemed to set the young man off more than anything. Snarling, he surged forward towards the princess again, but a fraction more slowly this time. The black-armored girl promptly gave ground as he advanced, throwing punch after punch at her unprotected face, either backing off enough to avoid the blows entirely or guiding them off to one side or the other with lazy-seeming sideswipes of her own arms. From her place at her father’s side, the darker girl could see her foreign opposite was consistently using the black vambraces on her forearms to shunt aside her brother’s strikes with the minimum of effort.

This pattern of attack and retreat continued right up until it didn’t. One moment Azula was backing off yet further, the next she suddenly ducked beneath a seemingly random punch. Spinning with her whole body to build up momentum, she brought one armored boot around to hook right on to Sokka’s left ankle. With nothing but slippery ice beneath his own boot, the kick tore his foot right out from under him and sent Katara’s brother crashing right back onto the ice.

“Didn’t face you head on, huh?” she folded her arms across her chest.

“Grrr…” Sokka growled, after spitting out another handful of blackish snow. He pushed himself back to his feet and clenched a gloved fist.

He has more right to a warrior’s pride than those cowards, Katara thought, looking past the two combatants to glare right at the northern traitors just standing there, not lifting a finger.

“Look, I didn’t come here to engage in petty bouts all day, but I understand doing things for the sake of pride. Tell you what: as a token of goodwill between our peoples, I’ll give you one more chance,” the light-skinned girl said. “Maybe third time’s the charm?”

This time there was no prolonged dance. The Water Tribe boy came on hard, throwing punches and chops with legs held close and root firm, and the Fire Nation girl simply leapt right over top of him, driving one leg into the small of his back on the way down. Azula landed smoothly, Sokka less so.

“Guess it wasn’t,” the princess fluidly resumed her full height and shrugged slightly.

All you wanted was to humiliate him, Katara thought angrily as she watched Sokka pick himself up for the third time, any past quarrels with her sibling well and truly forgotten.

“Now, before you go swearing any blood oaths of undying vengeance on me and all my heirs,” she continued, “there’s something you should keep in mind.”

“And what’s that?” her brother grumbled, half turned away with arms crossed.

“That I can do this,” she said flatly, and pointed two fingers of one hand off to her side. A head-sized orb of white so searing hot that Katara could feel it on her face as it passed by, even from this distance, all but vaporized a nearby snowbank. “That could just as easily have been you, at any time. It’s completely understandable that you don’t like me right now, but don’t pretend I’m some sort of malevolent monster that exists only to hurt you and your tribe. I fought you because your pride obviously demanded that you try and fight me, and I chose to keep things restrained.”

We don’t need your fake kindness, and we won’t fall for it. The Fire Nation showed its true colors the day it took Mom.

“Hmph,” Sokka turned away from her completely and back towards his waiting family, though from this angle his sister could see that there was a little nervous edge to her proud brother that hadn’t been there previously. He resumed his place beside Dad with what would probably be a few new bruises.

“Now that that’s dealt with, there is one other small matter to resolve before I take my leave,” the princess said, looking back to the chieftain. “The airbender. I want to talk to him. Where is he?”

What? Katara couldn’t help her eyes momentarily going wide before looking over at Dad. She knows? How? The light? The ship’s flare? But how could she know Aang’s an airbender?

Beside her, the tribal girl’s father had a carefully neutral expression on his face, but at this distance she could see the subtle purse to his lips. He didn’t respond immediately.

“Before you answer, keep in mind that I know you know where he is because I saw him hopping down the side of our old, wrecked ship in my ship’s telescope,” she glanced at Katara. “Carrying someone who looked very much like your daughter, in fact. And heading in the general direction of your village,” she gestured that way with one long-nailed hand. “Not like there are many other places to be going around here.”

Thanks to you people, Katara thought sullenly.

“And my genuine intention is to resolve this matter without further violence, in the same way that I chose to do with your tribe.”

You expect us to believe that, after your people wiped Aang’s out a hundred years ago?

“Considering that, you really shouldn’t have any problem with telling me where he is,” she went on. “Unless, that is, you mean to tell me that your professions of surrender and allegiance are worthless, that you didn’t mean a word of what you said, and that being the case that I should just restart the war and capture your village right now.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of her hideous metal behemoth. “I’m betting I have more warriors aboard just that ship than you have left in your entire tribe. I know I have more waterbenders. And that’s before we go into the other ships that are even now on their way.”

Dad grimaced visibly at that reminder. The girl could practically see the twin pressures of not wanting to sell out what could be the very last of an extinct people to their genocidal foes and not wanting to expose his own people to those same foes’ wrath warring inside her father’s head. Warring inside her own head.

There was a moment of silence.

“Please, Chief Hakoda,” Azula’s tone was surprisingly soft, almost gentle. “Don’t try to lie to me. Don’t sacrifice the well-being of your own people for no reason. Tell me where the airbender is. There won’t be violence unless he forces the iss-”

“Wait!” another voice cut in from somewhere.

Katara gasped, her head swinging instinctively around.

There, emerging from behind one of the many icy outcroppings littering the polar landscape, was the young bald boy so recently pulled from the iceberg. The girl’s eyes widened to see him so close – he was supposed to be hiding somewhere far away from their meeting place, until Dad had a chance to slip away and talk to him alone for a little while. Until that bison that he kept insisting could fly had recovered enough to do so, and he and her father had a chance to think the situation through together. He wasn’t supposed to be standing right within earshot!

“It’s me you’re looking to meet, right?” the boy took a few steps forward into the open, even while the princess’s soldiers slowly fanned out in his general direction. “I’m here.” He put one hand to his chest for emphasis, then briefly swiped his staff, kicking up several tufts of snow in a burst of air. “You don’t need to hurt these people to see me.”

“And so I won’t,” she nodded. “Come here please, I’d rather we not be reduced to shouting at each other.”

No, Aang, Katara pleaded silently. Don’t do this.

The airbender, seemingly deaf to her mental entreaties, walked forward, right into the slowly expanding net of firebenders and traitor waterbenders. None of the soldiers moved to attack as he passed, but that only made the tribal girl more anxious. The whole situation seemed like nothing so much as a naïve insect wandering right into a loathsome, bloated spiderfly’s web. At last, he came to a halt about a dozen paces in front of the foreign royal, seemingly oblivious to the way that her minions were slowly continuing to form a large circle around all of them.

“I’m the airbender you’re talking about, right?”

“It would seem you are,” she nodded slowly, arms folded behind her back once more, her golden gaze sizing him up.

“It’s… nice to meet you, I guess?” he ventured. “My name is Aang.”

“My name is Azula, sister to the Fire Lord and Crown Princess of the Fire Nation,” Azula said. “And I take it you must be the Avatar.”

Wait… Katara thought. What?!

“Aang?” she said aloud.

“No way…” Sokka breathed.

Beside her, her father’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped a fraction. Aang, for his part, just looked puzzled.

“How’d you know that?”

“You told me,” a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as her dark golden eyes gleamed. “Just now.”

“I…” the boy’s grey eyes went wide, as the magnitude of his error seemed to strike him. “Uh…” he scratched the back of his head. “Oops.”

“You can be calm, Chief Hakoda,” the light-skinned girl continued, with a brief glance in Dad’s direction. “I know that you weren’t knowingly harboring him. Judging by the way he isn’t a hundred- and twelve-year-old man, it’s fairly clear that he only became active recently. In fact, I’d guess… within the last couple of hours.”

“How do you know this stuff?” Aang cocked his head at her.

“Come now, it’s obvious. The chief being obviously unaware of you when negotiating with me only weeks ago. That pillar of light, spearing up into the heavens. That flare launched suddenly from a decades-old wreck. And the little figure making his way out of a hole in the roof. All the signs point to your reemergence being incredibly recent.”

“…You’re good at this,” he admitted.

“Well, I suppose you could say I have some instinct for it. And after all, you and I are like family, in a way.”

“Family?” Aang again sounded confused. “What do you mean by that?”

“You mean you can’t tell?” the princess put one hand to her chest. “Your previous incarnation, Avatar Roku, was my mother’s grandfather.”

She was lying, Katara decided immediately. There was no way, no way at all, that this thing in front of her, this… this monster that taken such obvious pleasure in humiliating her father and her brother, rubbing their powerlessness in their faces, and that meant to steal the two of them away from their home could be related to an Avatar. No way.

Aang blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded.

“Huh,” his posture visibly relaxed a fraction, and a slightly childish smile appeared on his face. “So, I’m kinda like your grandpa, is that it?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go quite that far,” Azula cocked her own head slightly. “But you and I definitely share some kind of connection.”

“Whatever you say, whippersnapper,” Aang replied, with just a little bit of cheek.

“Yes, well…” for the first time, she looked a bit put out. “Our history isn’t quite what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“…Oh.”

Was Katara imagining it, or did he actually look disappointed?

“Yes, it is a bit unfortunate, but you and I are technically still at war,” she informed him after a moment. “The peace agreement we’ve brokered currently only extends to the Southern Water Tribe, of which you’re not a member.”

“I don’t want to be at war with you!” the airbender shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want to be at war with anyone! I have friends all over the world, including in the Fire Nation!”

“Well then,” the tribal girl could practically hear the predatory instinct in the foreigner’s voice. She could hardly believe that Aang didn’t seem to. “Perhaps I could help you with that.”

“…What do you mean? How could you help me?”

“Well, my brother is the Fire Lord, and my mother is the currently reigning regent. If you wanted to speak with them about, I don’t know… ending the conflict between us, or perhaps even the remainder of the war,” the princess put a finger on her chin, then shrugged. “I could bring you straight to them right now.”

No… Katara thought. No!

“Aang!” she called out. “Don’t fall for it, it’s a trick!”

“Is there a reason you’re so determined to singlehandedly restart the war for your tribe?” Azula asked her in a flat tone. “Because if you’re going to persist in openly trying to undermine the actions of your tribe’s new sworn liege – and a peace initiative by us no less – then I really don’t see why I should treat your people’s word as being worth anything. From what I’ve seen so far, your father and I are the only ones who’ve been really trying to honor our peoples’ agreement, and his control over you is clearly tenuous at best.”

The tribal girl opened her mouth to respond, thought briefly about Gran-Gran and all the other elderly and children of their village, and reluctantly closed it again.

“That’s better,” the foreigner said with a slight nod, before shifting her gaze back to the airbender.

“…So, if I go with you,” to Katara’s disbelief, he actually appeared to be considering it in spite of her words, “you’ll take me to the Fire Lord, and I can talk to him about this…” he shook his head, “crazy hundred-year war thing?”

“I will indeed,” she nodded.

“And you won’t hurt any of these people?” Aang gestured towards Hakoda’s family with his free hand. “You’re not gonna get mad at them because I was here?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “Our people and theirs have concluded a peace agreement, and the war between us is over. The only thing that could jeopardize that now would be a violation of their treaty obligations. But if you come with me now, that won’t be any issue and you have my word that no one in this tribe will be harmed because of your brief presence here.”

“Hmmm…” the young Avatar looked down at the staff he was now clutching in both hands, then back over at the tribal family he’d so recently met.

Silently, desperately, Katara willed him not to fall for such an obvious trap, to take his glider and soar away from this place, away from this foreign woman and her gaggle of toadies and traitors. But, with so many helpless innocents of her tribe so close to hand, she dared not say anything more out loud.

“And besides, don’t you want to accompany your new friends?” she gestured at Katara and Sokka. “As part of our peace treaty, they’re coming back with me to the Fire Nation too.”

“…Alright,” Aang eventually said, taking a deep breath and looking the princess in the eye. “I’ll do it. I’ll come with you to see the Fire Lord.”

A triumphant smirk formed on Azula’s face, even while Katara’s heart sank.

“So,” Azula said, perhaps an hour later, “Appa’s your name, is it?”

The titanic flying bison, now curled up for his nap on the deck of her ship, gave a low, deep growl.

“That means yes,” Aang explained from right beside her.

“Well, welcome aboard then, Appa.” The princess ran one hand through the beast’s coarse, white fur.

All around the two, the royal sloop was buzzing with activity. With Katara and Sokka already having been given time to say their goodbyes and escorted safely aboard, it had just been a matter of waiting for the Avatar’s pet to lumber his sleepy way across the ice and up the ramp. That finally having been achieved, sailors were hurrying to bring the engines’ boiler back to full burn and firebenders working with waterbenders to ensure that the frozen seas around them were properly cleared, one way or the other. The hull was well-armored, but there was no sense in taking chances.

The ship’s captain walked up beside the pair of them and offered a salute. “Are we ready to depart now, your highness?” he asked.

“Set our course for home, captain,” she told him with a quick nod.

“You heard the princess!” the man called out to the crew, raising his hand in a commanding gesture. “Raise the anchors! We’re taking the hostages home!”

“Hostages?” the airbender beside her blinked.

Captain Shu is a tactless idiot, Azula thought, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Who won’t be a captain for much longer at this rate.

“He’s referring to Sokka and Katara,” she assured the boy quickly, after shooting the officer a quick ‘shut up’ glare. “It’s the reason they’re coming with us. We need to make sure that the peace between the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe holds in the long run, and the best way to do that is to give the chief’s heirs exposure to our culture and make sure that they don’t grow up on revanchist ideas.”

“You’re not putting them in prison, are you?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “We’re sending them to one of our schools for foreign students and putting them up in an apartment-style dormitory. They’re guests of the Fire Lord and will be treated as such.”

“Oh, okay,” the boy breathed a sigh of relief, before looking concerned again. “Do you have to take them away from their homes for that, though?”

“It’s not forever,” she said in a soothing tone, putting one hand on his shoulder. “They’ll be allowed to return here before you know it. We only need to host them for a little while, and only until we can make sure that the peace between us is stable. That’s something you want, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“And in the meantime, they’ll be safe with us, and learn about the Fire Nation alongside other guest students in our school. I promise you, it’s not a bad place to be.”

“Do you think I could see it while I’m there?”

“I don’t see why not,” she told him.

The deck beneath their feet shook, as the prow ramp retracted with a great hiss of steam and the grinding of gears. The royal sloop’s fine engine poured out clouds of black coal smoke, as the great behemoth slid backwards towards the harbor’s exit. Aang walked over to the side, leaning against the metal rail not far from where the Water Tribe siblings themselves stood, looking down at the father they’d only just been reunited with. Hakoda and the remainder of the southern tribe stood at the edge of an icy pier, they and their wooden ships looking almost comically small next to the Fire Nation’s advanced masterpiece. The chief’s own gaze was fixed firmly on his son and daughter and did not leave them for even a heartbeat the whole time the metal ship was pulling out.

Azula was reminded, almost wistfully, of Mom standing in the harbor on the day of her own departure.

Once the princess’s ship had finally managed to reverse its way out of the undersized Water Tribe harbor, it turned itself about in a surprisingly smooth motion. Black and gold prow now facing the glacial passages towards the open sea and the whole wide world beyond, it started forward.

“This is one of the most modernized ships in our fleet,” Azula informed Aang as the propeller picked up speed, carrying them past the first of many icebergs. “She can make the journey from the south pole to Caldera City’s harbor in less than three weeks.”

“That’s pretty quick,” the bald boy acknowledged, looking over his shoulder at his gigantic pet with a smile. “I’m sure Appa will appreciate the chance to relax.”

“I’m sure he will,” the girl nodded, watching the snoozing beast roll over onto one side. “And speaking of relaxation,” she looked over at some of the nearby masked northern soldiers, who were receiving obvious resentful glares from their southern cousins. “Lieutenant?”

“Your highness?” San Ku stepped forward, voice formal and posture immaculate.

“Would you all show our guests of your sister tribe to their cabins, please?” she gestured towards a nearby set of metal stairs descending into the deck. “And let them unpack their things for our journey. Then give them a little tour of the facilities, help them get settled in. You’ll have a better reference for how to get them used to one of our ships than a Fire Nation sailor would. And Katara, Sokka, don’t worry about privacy, you each get your own cabin.”

“Gee, thanks,” the tribal boy she had bested replied, in perhaps the least grateful tone possible.

Such terrible manners. And such a savage attitude. At least the northerners had some sense of decorum. And perspective.

“It will be done, princess,” the northern waterbender nodded, then beckoned his cousins. “Come on you two, this way. Your rooms are just down the stairs and to the right.”

“…Fine,” Sokka grumbled, snatching up his pack from where it had lain on the metal deck.

His sister did likewise but said nothing as she was led away into the depths of the ship, letting the sheer naked loathing in her blue eyes do all the talking.

Azula allowed herself a tiny nod of satisfaction as they disappeared down the stairway. It wouldn’t do to have either of those two saying or doing anything that might disrupt these first few crucial moments she had to spend with her most unexpected of travelling companions. It was crucial for her rapidly forming designs that she come off as likable and sympathetic as possible, and the less conflict that she engaged in in front of the Avatar the easier that would be.

Love was, after all, a much stronger motivator than simple fear. Mom had taught her that.

“So, uh,” the airbender beside her scratched the side of his tattooed head. “Where am I gonna stay?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to receive a guest like you,” she gave him a small, friendly smile. “So I didn’t have a cabin set aside.”

“I’m not going to have to sleep on the deck, am I?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head, putting a hand on her hip. “What kind of a host would I be if I did something like that?” She gestured toward the pagoda tower that dominated the sloop’s deck with her opposite hand. “This ship is designed to be able to carry the entire royal family at once if necessary. Normally, the rooms in that tower are reserved for Fire Nation royalty, buuuut…”

Azula pointedly glanced side to side before leaning in close, putting a hand up by her mouth.

“In this case, I think we can make an exception,” she whispered conspiratorially. “As long as you promise not to tell anyone back home what I let you do.”

“Your secret’s safe with me!” he promised, hand over heart and a friendly smile on his own young face.

“That’s good to hear,” the princess resumed her full height, and returned it.

There was a brief period of quiet, insomuch as any such description fit a ship constantly immersed in the crash of waves, the muffled roar of the engine, and the sounds of sailors’ boots on the metal decking.

“So,” Azula continued after a bit. “Since you’re going to be here a while, would you like it if I gave you a tour of the sloop personally? I’m afraid I don’t have anyone available who has any better idea of how to introduce someone from the Air Nation to a modern Fire Nation vessel than I do.”

“…The people of the Water Tribe told me that they thought airbenders were extinct,” Aang told her in a sad voice. “And that it was the Fire Nation that was responsible.”

Right. That.

“But I don’t think they’re right,” he continued after a moment, voice noticeably perking up. “That’s why I’m probably gonna head for home after we’ve got this all straightened out.”

“Home?” she asked.

“The Southern Air Temple,” he explained, with a big smile on his face. “It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world!”

“…You may be able to go to the Southern Air Temple later, if you want to,” she told him, choosing her words carefully. “But I warn you: you won’t find your people there.” Azula shook her head slowly. “If it’s their descendants that you wish to seek out, you’ll want to look inside the Fire Nation.”

The boy cocked his head at her. “What do you mean by that?”

“After defeating the Air Nomad Army, Fire Lord Sozin and his troops brought home with them all those young enough to be saved,” Azula recited from her history lessons. “Since the Air Nation was always the smallest of the four, it wasn’t difficult for these children to be given new names, adopted out, and assimilated into our own population. Over time, they and their descendants became Fire Nation.”

So, at least, the official story went. Mom certainly seemed to believe it. As for Azula? It had its questionable elements, but on the other hand so did the idea that every single one of the Fire Nation’s soldiers had suddenly developed a propensity for remorselessly roasting babies alive in their cradles. She very much doubted that the men serving in the army one hundred years previously were that different from the men who served there today. Just speaking from her personal experience, neither Ty Lee nor any of her six sisters evidenced the sharp, angular features or the serious, focused personality types that characterized most women of their land. And then there was her friend’s seemingly preternatural talent for acrobatics, easily jumping much higher than even Azula could manage without jets of fire to aid her. Most peculiar if her family’s ancestry was indeed unmixed Fire Nation.

“The Air Nomads are pacifists!” Aang shook his head vehemently. “They don’t have an army!”

“For pacifists, they certainly killed a good many comet-empowered firebenders during their final battles,” she said, recalling the rolls of honored dead from the war’s opening campaign. “Very surprising, if they knew nothing about fighting.”

“No…” Aang shook his head. “No, that’s wrong. You’ve got it all wrong. The Air Nomads taught that all life is sacred, even the tiniest spiderfly caught in its own web. They’d never kill anyone.”

The princess fought the temptation to stare.

This boy is unbelievably naïve.

“Indeed?” Azula leaned over the ship’s railing.

“Definitely,” he said, with a vigorous nod. “I don’t know what’s been happening with this… this whole crazy war thing, but you’ve got it all wrong.” He walked up right beside her and leaned on the railing himself, looking out over the ocean. “And just because no one’s seen an airbender in a long time, doesn’t mean they’re extinct either. The only way to get up to an Air Temple is with a flying bison, and I doubt the Fire Nation had any of those.”

“We didn’t,” she confirmed. “Still don’t.”

We could, however, simply fly en-mas under our own power beneath the comet’s glow, she recalled from the after-action reports Dad had made her read on that campaign.

“See?” he smiled. “I’m sure the Fire Nation didn’t wipe the Air Nomads out, or…” he looked at her, “take them all in like you said. They must still be out there somewhere.” His tone sounded almost wistful. “Once I’ve talked this whole crazy thing out with your mom and brother, I think I’m gonna go and find them.”

We’ll see about that, Azula thought to herself as she watched him.

Aang was young, obviously incredibly naïve and impressionable, and equally obviously about as far from naturally combative as it was possible to get. He genuinely wanted to be friends with her people. Filling his head with the correct thoughts about the current situation ought to be a simple enough task, as should inducing him to feel a sense of personal attachment to her and her family. Those two factors combined should prove more than sufficient to at the very least keep this Avatar out of the war as it entered its final few months, or perhaps even fully win him over to the right side, at last correcting the failure of one of her great-grandfathers with another.

And if they didn’t?

Well, she’d promised him the chance to speak with the Fire Lord, and she intended to make good on it. She’d never promised he’d be free to go once he had.

“How do the two of you live with yourselves?” Katara demanded of the two uniformed waterbenders with her. “How do you sleep at night?”

“Pretty nicely, thanks for asking,” the one on the left, the one going by Haqu, answered in a bored tone.

“You think we haven’t heard something like that before?” the other, San Ku, added from where he leaned cross armed against the cabin’s wall.

The three of them were in a decent sized cabin on the sloop’s upper deck, not far from where the pagoda tower jutted out of the ship. The room was larger than the tent that the Water Tribe girl was used to sleeping in, warmer, brightly lit by two gas-powered lamps, and had at least made an effort to be decently appointed, featuring a desk for writing, several chairs, a large feather bed, with a soft rug covering the steel floor and banners and paintings adorning the walls. She utterly despised it.

“What happened to you?” Katara’s voice was half fury, half pleading, as she stood beside the bed where her meager possessions were laid out. “When the Fire Nation first attacked, the north fought.”

“For the good of our tribe,” he replied. “Then we withdrew from an unwinnable conflict for the good of our tribe. And now we fight for the good of our tribe again.” He shrugged. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Nothing’s changed?” her voice was incredulous. “Everything’s changed! You’re helping the Fire Nation in its war! How could you do that?” tears shone in her eyes. “How could you sell out the world to such monsters?”

“Monsters?” the soldier cocked his helmeted head. “I was there when Princess Azula met your father. I didn’t see any monsters.”

“You saw an unprovoked invader threaten your sister tribe into submission, after decimating it with decades of raids. In what world is that not monstrous?”

The man shook his masked head. “Hasn’t anyone taught you anything about the Water Tribe way of war? Once the tribe is committed to a fight, it’s committed. And whatever you think of why the fight started, once it has it’s the duty of every tribesman to stand together, protect his fellows, and do everything he can to ensure a good outcome for his tribe.”

“Yes, like us! We’re your fellows!”

“What I saw on the island was the princess doing that for her tribe, ending a winning war she’d inherited without throwing away the gains men of her tribe had died for or exposing anyone from the Fire Nation to revenge attacks, while showing as much mercy to the enemy as she could. Hardly monstrous.”

“Not bad for a girl,” San Ku agreed.

The enemy, Katara thought. That’s really how he thinks of us.

“Don’t you understand what you’re excusing when you say things like that? The Fire Nation murdered my mother! Their raiders came to our village and executed her in cold blood! She was of your sister tribe, the blood of your blood. Why does that mean nothing to you?!”

“If you punch a platypusbear in the snout, you’re going to get mauled,” Haqu observed. “Like it or not, that’s life.”

“You’re… you’re blaming us for being attacked?!” Katara couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Azulon reigned for seventy-five years and didn’t attack our tribe once in that entire time. It’s been eighty-five years now since the last time our soldiers clashed with the Fire Navy. If he had some kind of grudge against the Water Tribe, he had a funny way of showing it.”

“Firebenders hate being at the poles,” San Ku said. “They never wanted to occupy them. Even once they’d defeated you, they just left. If they wanted your land, they would have taken it. If they wanted to eliminate your tribe or reduce you to slaves, they would have just brought in their army proper and done that. So, if they didn’t fight to take anything you have or destroy your people, then why’d they do it? The answer’s obvious: they fought you because you insisted on fighting them.”

“We were just supposed to sit back and watch the Fire Nation overrun the Earth Kingdom? At least the men of our tribe were man enough to try and do something about it!”

“And remind me what happened when you did?” San Ku asked.

“You got yourself decimated and didn’t change anything. Very noble,” the other man’s voice was dry. “How have we survived without chiefs who will commit suicide by proxy whenever they see a conflict they don’t like?”

“Is simple survival all that matters to you?”

“The welfare of the tribe comes before anything else,” he answered. “That’s the Water Tribe way. Always has been.”

“You people are sick cowards,” the southern girl declared. “You have no principles.”

I can’t believe I wanted to learn waterbending from you once!

“Our tribe still exists,” he countered. “If your principles brought your tribe to this, what good are they?”

“The principle that every time there’s a fight anywhere in the world that doesn’t have anything to do with you, get yourself killed to make a statement about it.”

The two waterbenders shared a brief chuckle. Katara snarled at them.

“Your own sister tribe has nothing to do with you?!”

Haqu shook his head. “While you were off getting yourselves decimated on some fool’s errand, we were putting one of our own in the perfect position to moderate the Fire Nation’s policies. The Fire Lord will soon have a Water Tribe wife, and the next will have a Water Tribe mother. How hard do you think either will be with Princess Yue’s people? It’s because of us that the terms you got were so lenient. We’ve done more to help the world, and you, then you’ve ever done for us, girl.”

“The Fire Lord invades the world, decimates your sister tribe, and your solution is to reward him for it.”

“Have you forgotten that the Fire Lord we came to terms with isn’t even the one who ordered the attacks on your tribe in the first place?” his fellow commented. “That man was already dead. Do you southerners hold a man responsible for something his grandfather did? You think endless blood feud is a good way to run a society?”

“It’s not a blood feud, it’s the exact same war! Who cares if one Fire Lord takes the place of the old one if he just does all the exact same things?”

“Ursa isn’t Azulon. Zuko isn’t Azulon. But it’s just that kind of blinkered thinking that almost doomed your people.”

“The Fire Nation almost doomed my people. In a war you’re helping them to win.”

“The Fire Nation thinks this will be the last war. That’s why they’re acting the way they are. They’re wrong, obviously. There will always be more wars. The Northern Water Tribe intends to survive those too. The fact that the Southern Water Tribe survived this one is solely down to the people you call monsters taking pity on you.” He shook his head. “If your people don’t learn, then next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Learn the ways of cowardice and treason? No thanks.”

“So, tell us then, girl: what would you do, if you were in our chief’s position, hmmm?”

“I wouldn’t have just given up without a fight!”

“So, you’d pour the blood of the rest of your tribe down the drain in a war you can’t win, just because how you feel about one death is all that matters to you? Tell me truly, do you think killing firebenders until they inevitably kill you will do anything to bring your mother back?”

“It can’t be worse that just giving up on the world!” she half-screamed at them.

“And how many more mothers will die along the way, just because you didn’t know when to quit?”

“I…” Katara finally hesitated, looking down.

“…This is why, in the civilized Water Tribe, women aren’t allowed to be in charge,” San Ku declared, sitting back on his chair. “You get things like this.”

“Can’t see any further than what she’s feeling right this moment,” his fellow agreed. “Won’t put the tribe above her emotions.”

The two northerners nodded at one another, as though they’d just made some sage pronouncement. Katara ground her teeth in impotent fury, even as the tears welled up in her eyes.

Chapter Text

Aang slept very well during his first night aboard the royal sloop. His cabin’s feather bed was by far the largest he’d ever been in, the crimson silk sheets were soft and smooth, and the long cylindrical pillow simultaneously soft and supportive. Even the ship’s gentle bobbing up and down on the waves proved to be more soothing than discomfiting. His peaceful slumber was eventually only broken by the sound of gentle rapping on the cabin’s metal door.

“Avatar Aang?” came the sound of a soft, high-pitched voice from the other side. “May I come in?”

“Uuuunh…” the airbender groaned, yawned, and rubbed some sleep from one of his eyes. He then sat up a little, stretching his arms. “Come in,” he eventually managed, yawning again.

The door slid open smoothly on well-oiled hinges, revealing a dark-haired, pale-skinned woman dressed in crimson robes edged with black, looking to be in her early twenties or so. She stepped through the portal, pressed her hands together, and bowed her head respectfully.

“Pardon the interruption, Avatar,” she said. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“No. No, it’s fine,” he shook his head, before rubbing his eyes clear one last time. “And it’s Aang. Just Aang is fine, really.”

“As you wish then, Aang,” she said, bowing her head once more.

“You don’t need to do that,” he assured her quickly. “It’s fine if you treat me just like a normal kid. I’m really not that special, miss… uh…” he scratched the back of his head.

“Anyi,” the young woman filled him in. “My name is Anyi. I have the honor of being a personal servant to her highness, Princess Azula.”

“Nice to meet you, Anyi!” the airbender said, smiling cheerfully.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Aang,” she returned the smile, albeit a little shily. “I hope your first night aboard was restful.”

“It was, yeah,” he replied. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Anyi took a step forward. “If you’ll pardon my intrusion, I come bearing a message from my mistress.”

“Well, okay then. Let’s hear it.”

“Princess Azula is taking her breakfast on her balcony, one floor above,” the servant girl informed him. “And she asks if you would like to join her.”

Aang didn’t have to think that hard about it. This girl was the Fire Lord’s sister, right? He’d listen to her, wouldn’t he? So, if he just showed this princess how much better it was to be friends with people from other countries than to fight one another, she could show her brother and mother, and then they could all just get along. He’d have done his job as the Avatar, and no one else would need to get hurt in some insane war started generations ago for spirits knew what reason.

And these hotmen were already friends with the Northern Water Tribe. They’d made peace with the Southern Water Tribe the day he’d woken up. This princess hadn’t hurt Sokka during their fight, even though she’d had every chance to. Obviously, they were interested in ending the war already. He’d just have to help them along by making friends with someone who seemed like she wanted to be friends already. How hard could it be?

“Sure!” he nodded, scooting towards the edge of his oversized bed. “If you’ll give me just a second to get ready, I’ll be right there.”

Anyi nodded, backing out of the door from whence she’d come and closing it behind her. The young Avatar rose fully from his bedding, stretched, and looked around. He found his Air Nomad garb right where he’d left it on a nearby table – albeit freshly laundered sometime during the night without him noticing and neatly folded up for him – and changed quickly out of the slightly-oversized crimson and gold pajamas he’d been provided.

Azula’s servant was waiting for him when he stepped out of his cabin, smiling with her hands folded neatly in front of her. The young woman led him up a flight of stairs, down a richly decorated hallway, and to another black metal door bordered by coiling brass dragons. She knocked on it three times, then seemingly without waiting for a response opened the door with barely a sound and stood aside.

Aang stepped inside another cabin every bit as lush and well-appointed as his own, with the only real differences coming in the specifics of the wall hangings and patterns in the carpet. Well, that and the long sliding door that took the place of one of the outer walls. A door which was currently halfway opened, letting in a cool sea breeze.

“Good morning Aang,” came a voice from the balcony beyond. “Did you sleep well?”

“You bet!” he nodded cheerfully as he walked forward, not even noticing the door closing behind him.

Princess Azula knelt on a cushion beside a low table of polished onyx. In fervent opposition to her armored look from the day before, this morning she was dressed in a simple, soft-looking silk robe of bright imperial red, rimmed with shining golden thread. Her dark hair was mostly down rather than being bound tightly into a topknot, with only a small portion being bound into a plain-looking ponytail just behind her head.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she smiled at the airbender as he came outside. “Pardon me if I seem a little underdressed, but I enjoy being a little more casual in the mornings. You know,” she covered her mouth with one hand and yawned, stretching with her other arm, “get started a little more slowly.”

“Casual’s good,” Aang said, kneeling down on the other cushion placed directly opposite the royal girl, a huge spread of food laid out in between them. “Actually, casual’s great!” He scratched the back of his head a little awkwardly. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know that much about formalities anyway.”

“That’s alright,” she said in a reassuring tone, “I can teach you what you need to know before you meet my brother.”

“That’d be good, thanks,” he nodded. The last thing he wanted was His Flamey-ness getting mad at him because of some sort of hotman protocol that he messed up. Though, if he were anything like his sister seemed to be, he might just laugh the whole thing off.

“…You look like you have something you’re wanting to ask.”

Aang blinked. “How do you know this stuff?”

Azula shrugged. “I’m a people person. Go right ahead if you’d like.”

“Well…I recognize you and your uncle, but who are the rest of those people in the portrait over there?” he asked. “There was one like that in my room too.”

“That’s my brother,” she pointed to one figure. “Fire Lord Zuko. That girl there is his fiancé, Princess Yue of the Water Tribe. And that…” her long-nailed hand stopped on the woman in the center, “is my mother, Fire Lady Dowager Ursa.”

“I see,” the Avatar nodded, before a thought occurred to him. “Where’s your dad in that though?”

“…He’s dead, Aang,” the princess said in a low voice. “He was assassinated by traitors within the government four years before that portrait was painted.”

“Oooo,” the boy winced, before his countenance became apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about something like that. I didn’t mean to drag up any painful memories.”

“It’s alright,” she sighed and shook her head slowly. “I processed my grief a long time ago.”

“Still…” he sighed as well, “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry something like that happened to you.”

“I appreciate it,” she favored him with a soft, faint smile, before shaking her head slightly. “Now, for slightly less depressing topics, breakfast. I didn’t really know anything about Air Nation cuisine, so I had my chef prepare a bit of everything.”

“I’ll say you did,” he nodded his agreement, grey eyes sweeping over the vast ensemble of dishes set out between them. “This is way more food than I could ever eat.”

“Well then, that makes two of us. But don’t worry about it too much, I’m sure the servants and kitchen staff will be happy enough with that result – they get whatever’s left of royal meals, so nothing goes to waste.”

“It’s nice of you to think about them like that.”

“It seems only fitting that those who do the work of preparing the food should have some part in enjoying it.”

“I’m sure they will,” he nodded, before looking a little uneasily at her. “Hey, please don’t take offense at this, but I can’t eat a lot of this food.”

“Why not?” she raised an eyebrow. “Food allergies?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just don’t eat meat. Air Nomads take a strict vow not to harm any animals in the procuring of food, it’s a part of our spiritual tradition.”

“Are eggs alright?” she asked politely. “The ones we use aren’t fertilized, if you’re wondering.”

“They’re fine,” he confirmed. “I’m just a vegetarian, so I while don’t eat meat or anything, products that can be taken without harming an animal are alright.”

“So, you can eat things like milk, unfertilized eggs, or honey?”

“Yep!”

“I’ll be sure to inform the chef,” she nodded. “While we didn’t plan for this, he’s quite good with his ingredients. I’m sure he’ll be able to accommodate you on our voyage.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks.”

“Not a problem at all,” she assured him.

“Hey…” his eyes halted over a particular goldish-white dish closer to the royal girl. “Is that… an egg custard tart?”

“That it is,” she confirmed. “And there’s no meat in it. You like them?”

“Like them?!” he leaned forward over the table. “They’re my favorite! I haven’t had one of those in… in…” his stomach suddenly growled aloud. “In a hundred years!”

“Well then,” Azula pushed the treat across the table towards him. “It’s all yours.”

The airbender dug into the sweet treat so quickly that he didn’t even notice the faint smile that tugged at the edge of the princess’s mouth.

“Are you sure that this is safe for people who aren’t airbenders, young man?” General Iroh asked on the deck of the ship, later that morning. “I don’t see any way for my niece or our guests to strap themselves into that saddle of yours.”

“You bet it is,” Aang answered from atop his bison’s head. “Kuzon rode Appa with me all the time a hundred years ago. He was a firebender too, and he never had problems staying attached.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle,” Azula said as she climbed nimbly up Appa’s white fur and into the saddle strapped to his back. “I’m sure Aang knows just what he’s doing.”

“You’re all in good hands with me and Appa!” the Avatar nodded.

As she clambered into the sky bison’s broad, brown saddle, the princess eyed up the two tribal siblings already in it at the young boy’s insistance. Sokka and Katara sat exactly opposite Azula, as far away from the royal girl as the saddle would physically permit. When she scooted her way towards the creature’s head, where the Avatar was, they scooted a bit in the opposite direction when they thought she wasn’t looking.

It was possible, she acknowledged as she settled in near the front, that she’d misread the boy, that he was more cunning and devious than he seemed, and that this whole flight was merely a ploy to take her hostage. In which case she’d play along right until they inevitably had to land somewhere and then kill them all, starting with the airbender. That didn’t seem especially likely, though, and the potential reward seemed more than worth the small risk.

“Everybody ready back there?”

“Indeed,” the princess nodded.

“I guess,” Sokka said, with audible reluctance.

“Mmmm…” Katara’s eyes were more focused on Azula than anything else.

“Appa, you ready, buddy?”

The gigantic beast let out a low rumble, which the Avatar seemed to take as an affirmative.

“Alright! Second time’s the charm! First time flyers, hold on tight! Appa, yip yip!”

The world beneath Azula seemed to buckle and lurch as the bison beneath took a leap from the sloop’s deck, beating its broad, flat tail once as it did. The air all around them rushed upwards and outwards, sending crewmen everywhere staggering backwards. Uncle raised his arm to shield his face, his robes whipping wildly in the winds. And somehow, impossibly, the multi-ton furry monstrosity rose into the air.

From his launch point on the ship’s deck, the flying bison gained altitude rapidly, far more so than Azula had guessed he might be capable of from his sheer size. The beast and his four passengers passed comfortably over the top of her pagoda tower within seconds and simply kept going, rising higher and higher towards the fluffy white clouds hanging overhead.

This thing is a powerful airbender in its own right, she concluded, looking down at the rapidly diminishing profile of her ship. The grand royal behemoth was rapidly becoming little more than a tiny grey dot amidst a vast expanse of shimmering sapphire blue, notable more for the black clouds of smoke trailing behind it than anything else. The people on its deck had long since become completely indistinguishable from the steel it was made of.

It was only once the little group was hundreds, perhaps over a thousand feet up in the air that Appa finally stopped climbing, settling in to a more relaxed forward gait not far beneath the clouds. Even then, his pace was formidable. She estimated her ship would need to be under full steam to have a hope of keeping up, and heavier or less modernized ships would simply be left behind altogether. Though properly ranged artillery pieces still ought to be viable against it, even at this height.

“I wouldn’t recommend we go too far in any direction,” the princess had to raise her voice to make sure she was heard over the strong winds all around them. “Finding the ship again might be a bit of a challenge in all of this blue.”

“Like that would be a bad thing,” Katara muttered under her breath. Azula’s keen ears, trained from years of whispered gossip in the court, picked it up anyway.

“Roger that!” Aang replied, giving the beast’s reigns a little tug to one side.

The great white creature came about almost lazily, barely seeming to have to move at all to adjust direction. His horned head pointed right back to the tiny grey dot below and behind them, he began as if to circle wide around the Fire Nation ship and its attendant cloud of smoke.

“I must admit, the view from up here is something else,” the princess said, leaning her head cautiously over the saddle’s heightened edge, while gripping it firmly. As the wind whipped her bangs right back into her face, she wondered briefly if either of the two resentfully silent tribals were having thoughts about giving her a shove while her back was turned. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Your ship’s nice,” the airbender replied, his voice seemingly carried more than impeded by the air currents around them, “but for me, a flying bison’s still the only way to travel!”

“You and Appa must have known each other for quite a while,” she said as she watched Aang steer, directing the lumbering behemoth beneath them with such light tugs on the reigns attached to its horns that she was surprised it could feel them at all.

“Ever since I was a kid,” he confirmed with a nod and a smile.

You’re still a kid.

There were a few moments of quiet, or at least as much quiet as one could get at such a high altitude with chilly, high-speed winds whipping all around and the low, constant heavy breaths of the mammoth creature they were riding on. Azula divided her attention between looking at the back of the airbender’s tattooed head and looking down at the scenery, taking in the gorgeous view of the ocean from on high. The group passed right through the top of a low hanging white cloud, the water vapor dampening her clothes and skin slightly. Had she not had such a prodigious inner flame, the chilly sensation might have been uncomfortable.

“Hey, Katara, why don’t you just ask Azula to help you out with your master problem while we’re here?” Aang blurted out suddenly as they burst free from the cloud’s puffy white confines, as if the thought had just occurred to him. He turned partway back to face the other three passengers, a smile on his face. “Didn’t you say that you wanted one to help you learn waterbending?”

“Aang!” the southern girl’s blue eyes bulged as she shouted above the ongoing roar of the high-altitude winds, looking over at Azula with naked terror in her gaze. Her brother quickly moved to shield her with his own body, as she pressed as far back as she could into Appa’s saddle. He reached for his back, looking for a weapon that wasn’t there. The airbender just stared over his shoulder at the two of them, in obvious befuddlement.

So, Azula thought, we missed one, did we?

“Well of course I could help you with that,” she said smoothly, without missing a beat. The wind caused her bangs to wave in the tribals’ direction as she faced them. “After all, our peoples are friends now, aren’t we?”

The southern siblings looked at one another in naked shock. Neither said anything.

“In fact, I happen to have two appropriate waterbenders aboard my ship right now, Medics Kihue and Siqua,” the princess continued. “In accordance with the traditions of our ally to the north, waterbending women of suitable age are to be trained as healers. I’m sure either of them would be more than happy to give you a few starting pointers during our voyage.”

“That’s great!” Aang turned around more fully, keeping only one hand on Appa’s reins. “Katara, you could learn some waterbending from Azula’s northern friends before we even get to the Fire Nation!”

“I…” Katara was peeking out from behind Sokka’s back with an incredulous expression on her face. “I…”

Azula, the back of her head towards Aang, stared pointedly at the now revealed waterbender. Katara stared back nervously. The princess raised an eyebrow.

You know if you say anything in front of this boy that serves to undermine our peace initiative, she prodded the other girl mentally, you risk putting your tribe in violation of our treaty. And that they’re being disarmed as we speak.

“I-I’m glad to hear it,” she said at last, scooting out a bit from behind her brother.

“See?” Aang put his free hand on his chest and smiled at them. “If we work together instead of fighting each other, we can all win. Katara, you can learn to waterbend, and Azula, you can help make the peace between your nation and theirs more secure. That way, nobody on either side has to suffer any more.”

“That was my goal in coming to the south pole,” she informed him.

“And that’s why I’m going to the Fire Nation,” he nodded, looking over his trio of passengers. “I hope by the end of this, we can all be friends.”

Fetters of love, Azula remembered Mom telling her, are much stronger than fetters of iron.

“Well, I can promise you,” she told the airbender, “that you’ve never had a friend like me.”

Uncle Iroh’s latest music night featured a couple of extra guests.

The former general’s forays into culture were already popular enough aboard Azula’s ship as it was. The days at sea could be long and monotonous for the ordinary sailors, soldiers, and servants aboard the royal craft, consisting as they did largely of regular and repetitive machine operation, maintenance, chores, and endless drills with few chances for shore leave in months. Adding to that was the fact that with her father’s brother on his tsungi horn, the princess herself on her erhu, and several more crewmen playing musical instruments of their own, the ship’s informal band was something to listen to. Now throw in the sheer novelty of having an airbender present at one, and the Avatar no less, and the usual few dozen attendees had become hundreds.

“Hey, everybody!” said boy called out into the mass of people surrounding the oversized firepit on deck during a lull in the music. “Everybody in your country all still like to move?!”

There was a general rumble of approving noises throughout the crowd, even from the few northerners in attendance. The southern tribals were still maintaining their sullen silence though.

“Well, it just so happens that I know several classic Fire Nation dances!” Aang announced to the crowd, then gestured to the band with his glider. “Give me a fast beat. Something lively!”

Azula paused, shrugged, and then picked up the pace in virtual synchronization with her uncle. The rest of the players around them promptly followed suit.

“A hundred years ago, this was known as the ‘Phoenix Flight’.”

The Avatar held his hands behind his back, doubled over, and began doing a strange sort of low, kicking dance that admittedly made him look at least a little like a bird of some description. Azula had never seen or heard of anything quite like it before, but the men and women around her clapped and cheered as the airbender danced his merry way around and around the firepit, so she just kept playing her versatile, two-stringed instrument.

Two attendees that obviously weren’t so into the proceedings were located not far from the roaring nighttime bonfire. Sokka and Katara, there by Aang’s insistence that they should be included, were sitting on improvised chairs made from spare supply crates with flat and glum expressions on their faces. The waterbender was cradling her head in her hands, outright refusing to look at the show.

“And this was the ‘Camelephant Strut’.”

Aang leapt from side to side, each time landing nimbly on only one foot and striking an exaggerated pose with his entire body, his hands formed into the eponymous creature’s trunk. The cheers and applause from all around him only grew louder. The boy’s sheer ability to jump about and still maintain his balance in the oddest of positions was, admittedly, incredible. Of all the people the princess knew, only Ty Lee could possibly be termed a rival to him.

“You know,” Iroh took his mouth off his horn and scratched his chin, “it was a long time ago, but I think I’ve heard of that one.”

“Just keep playing please, Uncle,” Azula replied, not taking her eyes off the dancing Avatar for a single second. “It’s not quite the same without you.”

“Well, if you insist…” the old man smiled, before melding seamlessly back into the music.

“Is there a reason you were attempting to spy on me?” Azula asked one afternoon, ensconced in one of the sloop’s practice chambers. “You’re aware that such a thing could be construed as an assassination attempt even with you being unarmed, yes?”

Two of her Imperial Firebenders were holding Sokka between them, both of his arms pinned in place by two of theirs.

“It wasn’t an assassination attempt!” he protested. “I just… just…” Shame was visible on the boy’s face.

“It was something far more prosaic than that, wasn’t it?” she filled in for him. “You wanted to watch me train.”

The young tribal boy looked away, seemingly unwilling to say anything.

“Since you seem intent on giving me the silent treatment, I’ll kindly fill in the blanks for you. You’re here because, despite being younger, smaller, and at a physical disadvantage due to being a girl, I humiliated you in front of your father and sister not once, not twice, but three times,” the girl deduced, every word seeming to cause the look of shame on her prisoner’s face to become more pronounced. “And I did it over the course of a few seconds each time, without ever resorting to my bending or more intense martial techniques. You wanted to know how I did it but just asking ‘the enemy’ seemed too shameful for a would-be warrior of the Water Tribe to bear, so you decided to try and hide in my practice chamber and see if you could learn anything about my fighting techniques through observation.” She put her hands on her hips. “But you failed at that too. Am I close?”

“Mmm…” Sokka mumbled noncommittally, blue eyes suddenly very interested in his own boots.

“Release him,” Azula nodded at her guards. “He’s harmless.”

“…I am not harmless,” he muttered under his breath as the two red-armored soldiers released their grip on him, backing up a few paces but not leaving the room. He rubbed his wrist with one hand. There were a few heartbeats of rather awkward silence, where the dark-skinned boy looked around and pointedly avoided eye contact with the light-skinned girl.

“So…” Sokka coughed, when Azula didn’t make to have him shood out. “Why am I still here, then?”

“Believe it or not, it’s because in spite of your frankly bone-headed stupidity, I can still respect the concept of what it is you just tried to do, however ineptly,” she ran the length of a finger along the point of her chin. “You feel ashamed that you failed to protect your sister, and you’re trying to get better at it. An admirable enough goal.”

“Wait…” he glanced sideways at her. “Really?”

“Really. I used to hear my father say, ‘Stand and fight. Don’t run away’.” Azula told him. “So, I can still credit you for that determination you’ve got, misguided and misapplied or no.”

“…Thanks,” he said, with audible reluctance, before suddenly blinking. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘used to’?”

“My father was murdered, by people with strong views on succession,” she told him. “It was five years ago now.”

“I’m…” he hesitated, “sorry to hear that.”

No, you’re not. But you’re willing to pretend you are if it gets you what you want. An acceptable first step.

“What’s done is done. My father is dead and so are his killers.” The princess shook her head. “I find dwelling on such things singularly unproductive. Better to take what he taught me in the time we had together and move forward.”

“That’s…” he coughed a little, “very practical of you.”

“It’s how I am,” she offered a slight shrug. “Perhaps I could even be persuaded to see the situation between us in a similar sort of light.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?” he tried to hide it, but she had caught the faint gleam of hope that had appeared briefly in his blue eyes.

“Well… if you want my help in learning a bit about martial arts, I suppose I might be willing to oblige,” she tapped two fingers on her chin. “In the name of the newfound partnership between our peoples.”

Sokka stared at her.

“There is, however, a price to pay,” she informed him.

“And what’s that supposed to be?” he looked at her suspiciously. “What do I even have that you’d want?”

“I want an apology,” she said simply.

“An apology?” he repeated.

“An apology. Since the day we’ve met, I’ve been nothing but friendly and accommodating to you and your sister. I’ve overlooked multiple instances of insults and disrespect towards my person that are more than legally sufficient to demand settlement via Agni Kai – that’s a firebending duel in case you’re unaware – because I know you’re acting out of ignorance and fear. Whereas you have continued to be rude and hostile toward me, apparently for no more reason than my having committed the crime of being born in a nation you dislike. Frankly, I’m getting rather sick of it. So, if you want my help learning how to fight properly, apologize to me for your rudeness and promise to be respectful in the future.”

The Water Tribe boy looked her up and down, and hesitated.

“Sokka,” she said with a slight frown. “I’m a fourteen-year-old girl on her very first solo mission away from her home. I’ve never commanded, or taken part in, any military operation against your tribe or anyone else for that matter. So, unless guilt is considered hereditary in your culture, I don’t see how you could justify holding me responsible for any wrongs you believe to have been done to your tribe during the course of our war.”

There was another moment of silence in the practice chamber. The tribal chief’s son stared at her for a while, a contemplative look on his face.

“…Alright, fine,” the boy at last gave a heavy sigh. “You win. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for what?” she prodded.

“I’m sorry I acted like a jerk to you. I’m sorry I was… rude and hostile, like you said. I won’t do it again.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Water Tribe’s honor.”

The princess crossed her arms and raised an expectant eyebrow.

“So… please help me learn how to fight.” Sokka clenched his fist and gave a determined look. “I want to be able to do a man’s job the right way.”

“…Very well then,” Azula nodded faintly. “I’ll graciously oblige your request.”

“…Thanks.”

“Right,” the royal girl’s voice suddenly hardened, along with her face. “Let’s start with your stance. It’s terrible. You’re easy to take off your feet.” She bent her knees, shifting her weight around. “This is a fighting stance.”

“I’m not falling for it,” a voice echoed down the metal confines of one of the royal sloop’s many hallways.

“You’re not falling for what?” Azula asked, halfway turned around to face Katara in the red-tinted light of the ship’s corridor.

“What do you mean what? Everything!” Katara made a sweeping gesture with one hand as she emerged from a nearby portal. “The meals, the music, the flights, the training for me and my brother. You think you’re going to take me in with it, make me forget about what you people really are! Any kindness the Fire Nation pretends to show is a lie. A trick. A trap. You’re faking all of it!”

I am, the princess acknowledged mentally. And I’m not. It really all depends on you.

“This plan of mine seems a lot more complicated than just cutting all three of your throats while you sleep, dumping your corpses in the ocean, and claiming to the world that you tried to assassinate me,” the princess pointed out. “My sinister designs seem to be highly inefficient even to my own eyes.” She shook her head at one of the nearby guards, then looked idly at her long, sharp nails. “If I’m faking it, why don’t I just do that? It’s not like I’m afraid of any retaliation your tribe is capable of.”

“…I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment’s quiet. “But I still know you’re faking it!”

“Why do you hate me so much, Katara?” Azula asked in a calm tone. “What great crime have I committed against you? Do you think so little of your own people that asking you to spend some time in the Fire Nation in exchange for peace and assistance for them is so unreasonable?”

“Are you serious? You’re the Fire Lord’s sister! Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood. You’re tricking the Avatar – the world’s last hope for peace – into wandering right into your little Fire Nation clutches, and you’re forcing me to just watch and go along with it by threatening my tribe!”

“Ah, so I’ve committed the crimes of wanting to talk to the Avatar rather than fight him or murder him in his bed, and being born,” her voice was drier than the Si Wong Desert. “How heinous of me.”

“How dare you try and play the victim here?!” the other girl sounded more incensed than ever. “How dare you?!”

“So much irrational hatred,” she shook her head slowly and sighed. “And after I arranged for you to be trained by other waterbenders too.”

“Arranged for me to…” she looked genuinely offended. “You think having one of your pet traitors show me how to make water glow does a single thing to make up for what the Fire Nation did to the rest of the waterbenders of my tribe? You think I’ll just forgive and forget after you killed my mother over it?!”

“I killed your mother? Are you under the impression that I started this war, Katara? Or fought in it? I’m fourteen,” the princess said, raising an eyebrow. “I was born into it, exactly the same as you were. The Fire Nation consists of individual people with names and faces and families just as the Southern Water Tribe does, all born into households and situations we had no say in. We aren’t some faceless blob of amorphous evil.”

The southern girl continued to glare hatefully at the royal one.

“The difference between you and I seems to be that I mean to end this war, and indeed all wars, once and for all, while you seem rather less committed to the idea of peace.”

“You call what you’re doing peace?!”

“Yes. Your tribe has given in to our demands, which are quite reasonable, and thus the violence is over. That is rather how wars tend to end, in case you weren’t aware. One side gives up on certain war aims and stops fighting.”

“That’s not what peace is!”

“Ah, of course. You think my ‘tribe’ should have given in to your tribe’s demands instead, and that would have been peace.” The princess gave the tribal a wry smile. “Well, unfortunately for you, the facts on the battlefield didn’t really support that particular conclusion to events. You have to admit that it would be rather absurd for the winners to surrender to the losers.”

“You won by destroying our villages, wiping out our waterbenders, and driving our tribe to the brink of extinction. Then you strong-armed my father into surrendering my brother and I to be your prisoners, so you have us on hand to kill us if he ever does anything you don’t like!”

“Casualties do to tend to happen when one polity refuses to acknowledge the facts on the ground,” her reply was calm, level. “And it seems to me that if we were as wicked as you say, it would have been much easier to just push your tribe over the edge of extinction completely rather than put up with your intransigence. You keep claiming me to be some kind of monster animated by the raw evil in my blood, but you don’t have a single good answer for why I didn’t just come down there, massacre every last woman and child left in the south pole in the space of an afternoon or so, and then depart to go and sink your father’s fleet to the last ship, do you?”

The chieftain’s daughter looked away from the princess, saying nothing.

“But then if you acknowledged me as a human being capable of kindness and mercy, you might start to feel your sheer hatred for my family slipping away from you,” Azula continued. “And you might just start to believe that rule by us does not in fact represent the end of the world for you and yours. From there might even come the uncomfortable idea that your tribe was wrong to continue the fight after it became as plain to your people as it was to their northern cousins that the war was unwinnable for them. That all that suffering and sacrifice you’ve known was nothing but a pointless mistake on your own collective part. And we can’t have that now, can we?”

“Shut up…” the tribal girl growled, clenched fists quivering at her side. “Shut your mouth!”

“Who knows? Perhaps if your ancestors had seen sense sooner, you would be the one set to marry my brother in a few weeks’ time…” she gave the other girl a side-eye, “and certainly your mother would still be alive.”

“Y-You’re…” Katara snarled openly at her, even as glistening streaks ran down her dark cheeks. She looked like she wanted nothing more in the world than to strike out at the royal girl before her, despite the self-evident madness of that act. “You’re something… something beyond awful.”

“Yes, well, seeing as it doesn’t seem to be doing either of us any good, I think I’ll leave our conversation off here,” Azula turned towards her nearby bodyguards. “Gentlemen, let’s give our guest some space.”

With that, the princess of the Fire Nation turned and strode calmly away, leaving the chieftain’s daughter to her bitter tears.

“Part of being the Avatar is mastering all four elements, isn’t it?” Azula asked Aang one afternoon on deck, shortly after they’d finished lunch.

“I mean… eventually, yeah,” he nodded from where he was leaning over the ship’s rail, looking out at the ocean.

“And fire is one of those elements.”

“…Where are you going with this?”

“Well, I was just thinking that I happen to be a firebender,” she formed one hand into a claw, summoning a blazing hot orb that looked like nothing so much as a star plucked right from the night sky. “And I’m considered to be pretty good at it.”

“…Are you volunteering to teach me firebending?”

So even you’re not that oblivious.

“I suppose I am, at least while we’re aboard ship,” she replied, extinguishing the flame by clenching her fist. “If you’d be interested, that is.”

“I’ve heard I’m supposed to learn the elements in a certain order but… eh,” he shrugged. “Learning firebending right now sounds great to me!”

“Now, don’t get too excited,” she warned. “A week and a half of travel time is hardly enough to achieve any significant degree of mastery but… getting a few basic exercises down should be achievable.” Azula looked him up and down. “What would you say to the idea of learning a little bit of beginner’s firebending from me?”

“I’d say let’s do it, Sifu Hotwoman!” The Avatar grinned and struck what he evidently took to be a firebending pose.

“…What did you call me?”

“Sifu?” Aang blinked. “It just means ‘master’.”

“Not that,” she shook her head.

“Oh, you mean ‘hotwoman’?” he shrugged. “It’s just Fire Nation slang. I learned it from Kuzon.”

We had weird slang a hundred years ago, Azula concluded.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” she assured him. “It just sounded odd to me, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, really? Next, you’re gonna tell me ‘flameo’ isn’t a thing anymore.” The boy sighed. “I like that one.”

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “But no, it isn’t.”

“Aww man…” he looked down at his brown boots with a defeated expression on his face.

“Now Aang,” she said, her own expression turning quite serious. “Before we get started, I’m afraid I have to ask you to talk about something quite serious for just a moment.”

“Hmmm?” he cocked his head at her.

“Our two nations are still, however technically, at war,” she said. “And as such, before I teach you anything, I must ask that you promise me something.”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise me that, no matter what happens, you will never use the firebending I’m going to teach you to hurt me, my family, or any of my people.”

“No way I’d ever do that!” Aang waved his hands in front of him, shaking his head vehemently. “I’m a pacifist, remember? All life is sacred to me!”

“Your word, Aang,” she insisted, frowning slightly at him. “I’m sorry, but as royalty the safety of my people is very important to me. Their welfare is my chief responsibility. I need your word.”

“Okay, okay,” the Avatar nodded. “I promise that I won’t use this firebending to hurt you or anybody else in the Fire Nation, ever!”

“…Then I choose to trust you,” she said, a gentle smile reappearing on her face. “Thank you, Aang.”

“Don’t mention it,” he scratched the back of his head, a cheerful little grin on his own.

“Now then,” the princess turned towards her pagoda tower and beckoned. “Follow me. We’re going to begin with a simple meditative exercise with some candles.”

“That doesn’t sound nearly as exciting as throwing fireballs,” he protested. “Can’t we do some of that first instead?”

“…Remind me again who’s the sifu here?”

“You are.”

“Indeed,” she stopped walking to turn and scrutinize the young airbender. “And if you want my assistance, you’ll do as I say,” her voice dropped a pitch, she folded her arms across her chest, and then she gave the boy a particularly intense stare. “Understand?”

He flinched under her withering gaze. “Y-Yes ma’am!”

“Good,” she gave him a little nod. “Now, since I’d rather not see my men getting scorched by an amateur flinging uncontrolled firebending around or you breaking your promise to me, we start with the candles. Once you show yourself capable of reliably controlling a flame, then you can begin learning to generate one. The faster you grasp the first lesson, the faster we move on. Get the idea?”

“…I guess,” Aang gave a halfhearted sort of nod.

The princess turned and resumed walking toward the ship’s tower, arms folded neatly behind her back.

“Still sounds kinda boring though…” he muttered under his breath when he thought she couldn’t hear.

“We’ll break you of that rebellious streak soon enough, my young pupil,” Azula said without turning around. She smirked a little inside to hear the Avatar jump.

“My lord,” Princess Yue bowed her head.

“My lady,” Fire Lord Zuko returned the bow.

There was a moment of dead silence in the palace hallway, and then the betrothed pair burst into laughter.

“You almost managed to keep a straight face this time, Zuko,” Yue giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “One of these days you’ll get it right.”

“Hey, if the Fire Lord wants to laugh,” the young king picked up his fiancé’s lightweight form easily and twirled her around, “he gets to laugh. It doesn’t have to be stuffy ritual all the time.”

“Your Mama wants us to practice for when we’re in public together, remember?” she reminded him, as the world spun around her. “And – whoah! Zuko!” She bobbed a little and gave an indignant squeal. “Put me down before I get dizzy!”

“Your wish is my command, your highness,” he replied with an exaggerated formality, replacing her gently on the palace floor. Yue stumbled once, briefly using his shoulder as a crutch to regain her footing, before resuming her full height.

The princess of the Northern Water Tribe was dressed as befitted a noble lady of the Fire Nation. She wore white silk robes in the southern style, artfully bedecked with intricate, swirling patterns of rich crimson thread and tastefully accented with gold. The ensemble was a gift from her soon-to-be mother-in-law, as was the white orchid perfume she wore, as was the golden clasp that bound her hair loops into place. Opposite her, the young Fire Lord wore a crimson outfit with puffed sleeves and pants tucked into boots reaching halfway to his knees, a broad black shoulder ornament lined with gold, and a cape coming down to just above his feet. His hair was, naturally, bound up into a topknot held in place by a gold flame hairpiece.

“It isn’t proper for a Fire Lady to be staggering about like some village drunk,” she told him, in a faux-haughty tone.

“Is that the kind of thing Mom’s been teaching you?”

“No, you dummy, it’s just obvious!” she shoved his shoulder rather ineffectually.

“Forgive me my woeful ignorance, oh beautiful and wise Lady of Fire,” he swept one hand before her, giving an exaggerated bow, which he held for just a moment. The moon-blessed young woman put her hands on her hips and made a face at him. Eventually, neither he nor she could hold it in anymore, and both burst out laughing once again.

“It’s good to see you again, Zuko,” Yue said, embracing him again.

“You’d been away for so long, I was almost beginning to worry you’d forgotten about me,” he gave her a little grin as he returned it. His arms were strong, as they had been for years, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken the flame inside his chest was burning hotter than ever. He looked every bit the ideal handsome storybook prince.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said. “Home is nice, but four months is a long time to be away from here.”

“You’ve told me so much about it,” he replied as two released one another. “I’m looking forward to finally seeing it.”

“Papa and Mama are looking forward to having you.”

“And so are you, I hope.”

“Do you really need to ask that?”

The two shared a quick chuckle.

“I’m kind of surprised that they aren’t here right now,” Zuko said after a moment.

“They had to stay back to make a few final arrangements before their journey,” Yue explained. “But their ship should have left the north pole by now. They’ll be here in plenty of time, don’t worry.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Wouldn’t want your parents to miss out. I’d hate to have to do it all over again. One time is gonna be enough work as it is.”

The young princess’s sixteenth birthday – and thus her wedding day – was rapidly approaching, after all. It was only a few short weeks away now, and there was much to be done. All around them, Caldera City was making itself ready to receive guests from across the Fire Nation and beyond. Arnook and Xue were hardly the only foreigners expected to be in attendance. Needless to say, anyone who was anyone in the empire would want to be on hand to congratulate the soon-to-be ruler of the world.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” she snickered.

“But the servants will thank me,” he returned it. “The city’s waistlines too.”

“So many jokes, for such a special day,” the princess put her hands on her hips and feigned indignation. “I might almost think you weren’t taking this seriously.”

“Well, speaking of,” he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The snow-haired girl blinked. “A surprise?”

“Cover your eyes,” he told her. “And no peeking.”

Is this what I think it is? Yue wondered, as she did as she was bid.

Seconds after her world went dark, there came the sound of footfalls on the polished palace floor, circling around behind the princess. She stood there in anticipation for just a moment, before warm, strong hands reached over her shoulders. The moon’s child couldn’t help but grin just a little as she felt something cool and soft being clasped gently about her bare throat.

“You can open your eyes now,” Zuko said, after finishing the knot.

Yue did so and found to her own surprise that there was a servant suddenly standing before her, holding up a large mirror for her inspection. The palace staff here were sometimes so skilled it was almost scary.

But far more important than the stealth abilities of servants was the ornament now wrapped firmly around her neck. The mirror in front of her revealed a ribbon made of a soft, comfortable white silk, and a pendant dangling from it crafted from shining, immaculate gold. The precious metal was set into the shape of a stylized variant of the Fire Nation’s trident flame symbol, with the sigil of her own Water Tribe set firmly into the very heart of the flames.

“A betrothal necklace,” Yue breathed, cradling the pendant in one hand. She glanced over her shoulder at her fiancé. “You made this?”

He nodded, and she could see that his cheeks were a shade pinker than they had been a moment ago. Which was probably good, since her own felt a few degrees warmer than they had.

“Since when could you work gold?”

“Since about three months ago,” he informed her. “That’s what you get for being away for so long.”

“Well, if it gets me things like this, I’ll just have to make a habit of going away for even longer,” she joked.

“So… does that mean you like it?”

“I love it,” she answered honestly. “Thank you, Zuko.”

Princess Yue leaned forward, closing her eyes and extending her lips. Strong arms pulled the northern girl in close, right into his chest, where she could feel the comforting warmth of her fiancé’s inner flame. A well-moisturized pair of lips met hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer. As the two of them stood there, locked together in a firm embrace, Yue felt her heartbeat speeding up. She even picked her left foot up off the ground, holding it up level with her knee in an almost girlish manner.

The two royals held their embrace for several long seconds, lips locked together, tongues just beginning to poke at one another, when all of a sudden…

“Fire Lord Zuko!” a voice out of nowhere jolted the happy couple right out of the moment. When they opened their eyes, they were greeted with the sight of a middle-aged man in a military messenger’s uniform racing down the palace hall, two soldiers of the Royal Procession nipping at his heels. In his hand, he clutched a scroll in a virtual death grip. “Your majesty! An urgent message!”

“Can’t it wait?!” the Fire Lord snapped, in an exasperated tone. “We’re in the middle of something here!”

“Forgive me… your majesty… but this message just arrived by a hawk bearing a black ribbon,” the messenger managed, in between pants. “And it also… bears the seal of the Crown Princess.”

A black ribbon was the highest of all priorities, to be delivered to the Fire Lord immediately regardless of circumstances. That this scroll also bore Azula’s own mark only increased its significance. The other princess was not one to use such an important communication system for trivialities. Loathe as she was to be interrupted right at that moment, the moon’s child also couldn’t really fault the luckless man for doing what genuinely was his job.

“…Alright then,” Zuko sighed, releasing Yue with visible reluctance. “Fine. Let’s see it.”

The out of breath messenger swiftly reached, and equally swiftly knelt before, his king and proffered the scroll. The young man took it, broke the wax seal, and began reading swiftly, his golden gaze sweeping over the dense mass of characters in his sister’s immaculate handwriting. A few seconds in, he gasped aloud, then redoubled his pace, quickly taking in the whole of it with hungry eyes. The girl at his side had rarely seen him looking quite so focused.

“What?” Yue said, peeking up over his shoulder. “Zuko, what is it?”

“It’s best if you see for yourself,” the Fire Lord rolled up his sister’s message and passed it over to his bride-to-be for her own inspection, before turning to the nearest guard. “Qin Lee, I need you to run and get my mother, right now.” Zuko’s commanding tone brooked no opposition. “She needs to see this right away.”

Chapter Text

“Aang!” a low whisper sounded through a deserted corridor on the sloop in the dead of night. “Aang! Over here!”

“Katara?” the passing airbender blinked to see the dark-skinned girl in what looked to be some kind of underused cleaning closet. “What are you doing in there? Is this some kind of game?”

“I saw you coming, so I raced ahead to find someplace quiet,” she explained, beckoning urgently with one arm. “Hurry up and get in here before someone else comes along!”

“Um… okay?” the young boy shrugged, obediently wandering right inside the small, dimly lit room. As its other occupant quickly slammed the metal portal shut behind him, he noted that the place smelled vaguely of sulfur and charcoal, as well as other, less identifiable compounds.

“Alright,” Katara breathed a low sigh of relief. “Nobody saw us. No one can go running back to the princess.”

“Why would anyone wanna do that? Are we doing something wrong in here?” the airbender cocked his head at her. Then his eyes widened as another thought occurred to him, and his cheeks became slightly pinker. “Are we-”

“You have to get out of here, Aang,” she interrupted, her tone laced with urgency. “Tonight. I overheard Captain Shu saying we’d be arriving in the Fire Nation by midmorning tomorrow.” She shook her head. “I thought we had more time, but apparently not. This thing’s fast.”

“Um… why would I wanna do that?” he covered up his disappointment with his confusion. “Wasn’t getting to the Fire Nation the whole point of this trip? Seeing the Fire Lord and everything?”

“Aang,” the chieftain’s daughter sounded very serious. “You may not realize just how depraved, honorless, and cruel the Fire Nation has become in the last hundred years, but I do. This whole meeting is a trap, I’m sure of it. The moment they get you somewhere secluded and alone, they’re going to clap you in chains and throw you in a dungeon. Then they’ll do the same for Appa.”

“If they’re trying to trap me, why haven’t they taken my glider?” Aang asked, holding the staff out with one hand. “I could fly away from the ship at any time. Nobody’s tried to put me in the brig or anything. You or Sokka either.”

“They’re waiting to do it until you’re completely surrounded by their forces, in the heart of their territory. It’s the same reason they’re faking kindness towards you during this voyage,” she declared confidently. “It’s all just so you’ll drop your guard.”

“And if they wanted to take me prisoner, why would they teach me how to do this?” the airbender asked, casually conjuring a glowing orange-yellow orb in one hand. “Azula taught me that. You could do a lot to escape prison with a trick like that.”

“You don’t think the Fire Nation has experience imprisoning firebenders?”

“I think you’re reaching,” he looked her up and down. “They have people who can come into my room in the middle of the night, right when I’m asleep. All they’ve ever used it for is doing laundry or delivering breakfast. If they wanted to hurt me, why not just do it then?”

“…They must want you alive for some reason, I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you’re right,” he said. “Azula seems nice – when she’s not training somebody, at least. Iroh’s fun to be around. If the rest of their family is anything like them, we’ll get along fine. And what is it you even want me to do, after I run off like you’re saying?”

“Travel around the world, find people who can help you master the four elements, defeat the Fire Lady, and restore balance like the Avatar is meant to.”

“…What would beating up Azula’s mom do to stop the war?” the boy sounded puzzled. “Wouldn’t it just make her kids mad? And the Fire Nation would still have an army, wouldn’t it? Seems like talking her into just bringing it home would be a better shot.”

“It’s not going to happen, Aang. The Fire Nation of today is too depraved, too wicked. They won’t go for it, no matter what you say to them.”

“Is there a reason you’re so sure of that? Is it that you’re… wanting to come with me?” he asked, a little note of hope in his voice.

“…I can’t go,” Katara said quietly. “At least not right now. That’d mean leaving my tribe behind to suffer the consequences. But you’re not part of my tribe. You’re not part of the deal. If you slip away, they’ll have no reason to think we were involved, and no excuse to punish any of them. The northern tribe are selfish traitors, they don’t know any loyalty. If they see the Fire Nation start breaking its pacts, they won’t stick around to be the next victims.”

“…So, you think the Fire Nation will honor its word?” his tone brightened up.

“If it benefits them, I guess,” she admitted, arms crossed, and a sour look on her face.

“Peace will benefit them,” he insisted. “It means no one from their country will have to die off in a foreign land in some stupid war anymore. All their soldiers can come home and be with their friends and family again.”

“…I’m not gonna change your mind on this, am I?”

“I’m sorry, Katara,” Aang sighed, “but just I don’t think you’re right. I think the Fire Nation really is interested in peace. And if I can help with that, shouldn’t I at least try?”

“…Then promise something, Aang.”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise that when the Fire Nation goes back on its promises and tries to throw you in prison, you won’t kid yourself anymore. Promise me that you’ll just run.”

“Okay, okay…” the Avatar held out his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “If the Fire Nation tries to hurt me, or put me in some jail, I promise you that I’ll run.”

It was a bright and sunny winter morning when Azula’s sloop pulled into the Fire Nation’s royal harbor. The tropical winter was its usual mild self, especially so when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The vast volcanic island stretched out before the new arrivals was covered with more greenery than Katara had ever seen in her young life, and the stone of the vast plaza ahead of them was almost as vividly white as freshly fallen snow.

In comparison to the plaza’s sheer size and grandeur, the group waiting to receive the newcomer seemed almost puny. Even though there looked to be around fifty or so soldiers in the uniform of the Imperial Firebenders standing at attention in two neat rows to either side of the crimson processional, they still only occupied a miniscule proportion of the available space. The white flagstones around them were completely deserted in spite of, or perhaps because of, the momentous meeting that was about to take place.

Azula’s behemoth of a ship slid far more smoothly into the stone dock of its home port than it had in the Water Tribe’s frigid harbor. Much like the plaza itself, the surrounding docks were completely devoid of any signs of life, let alone other ships. Watching the scene from the royal sloop’s steel deck, Katara didn’t quite know how to feel about that. On the one hand, the last thing she wanted for her first day in the Fire Nation was to be jeered at by a crowd like some exotic beast brought to heel. On the other, the sheer silent emptiness around them also felt off-putting in its own way.

Regardless of her feelings on the matter, the ship’s black and gold prow descended onto the flagstones with a hiss of steam. Already standing at the ready, Azula herself was first down the ramp, the young, smiling Avatar just behind and to her side, followed by her uncle, then the tribal siblings, then an assortment of guards to keep them all moving. Even as they descended towards the shore, three figures stepped out of waiting palanquins to greet them.

Katara didn’t need anyone to tell her who these people were. Azula’s ship had several portraits of members of her family scattered throughout, and crewmen more than willing to talk about who was who. There was, naturally, the hated Fire Lord himself, monstrous descendant of monsters, who didn’t even have the decency to show the darkness in his heart on his admittedly rather handsome face. He wore a fine tunic and pants of crimson and gold, with a black cape swept gently behind him by the sea breeze. Then there was the princess’s mother, the wench going by Fire Lady Dowager, wearing long crimson robes with flaring black shoulders rimmed with gold, a prominent golden flame headpiece in her topknot, and sharp-looking golden nail guards at the end of several of her fingers. The chieftain’s daughter thought the clawlike aspect they and the accompanying lengthy nails lent her hands to be entirely appropriate.

And finally, the girl in white and red robes at the Fire Lord’s side needed even less introduction than the rest. Her description was widespread enough for even the isolated southerner to recognize her distinctive appearance on sight, even without having also seen her portrait several times aboard ship. Even if she hadn’t, the small entourage of four uniformed waterbenders moving to shadow her specifically was something of a giveaway.

There she is, in the flesh, Katara thought, the whore-princess of the traitor tribe.

Of all of the despicable lot arrayed before her, if she had to pick, that creature was probably the most loathsome. The ashmakers were what they were because it was in their blood, but the snow-haired girl with the pleasant smile on her face had chosen to become their soon-to-be queen of her own volition, betraying the blood of generations of the Water Tribe in the process. All for the sake of her own gain.

The three hateful monsters were on hand to greet them almost the instant the landing party’s boots touched flagstones, with the older woman leading the way from the center of the pack. Scarcely had the black-armored princess made it a few paces onto dry land before she was confronted with a pair of crimson-robed arms spread wide.

“You did so well,” the woman they called Lady Ursa said, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter with a smile on her face. “I’m so proud of you, Azula.”

The Fire Nation’s princess gets a mother, something inside Katara seethed with envy at the sight of the older woman pressing the princess deep into her chest, and I don’t.

“Moooom…” Azula’s voice was a hushed whisper, only just audible to her. “Cut it out. You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered back. “I don’t mean to, I’m just… I’m just so pleased with what you were able to do… how well you handled everything…” if Hakoda’s daughter wasn’t hallucinating, there was actually a tear running down her pale cheek. “I don’t know how anyone could have done better.”

“…Thanks,” the princess turned her head away from her entourage as the regent released her, but a slight flush could still momentarily be glimpsed on her face from where the other girl stood.

“And Iroh… thank you for accompanying my daughter on her voyage,” the woman nodded her head respectfully at the grey-haired man. “I appreciate it.”

“Traveling the world in the company of your favorite niece is no burden at all, once you get to be my age,” he replied in an affable tone.

“Uncle, I’m your only niece.”

“Well, that makes you a shoo-in for the top spot, doesn’t it?”

“…I suppose that’s true,” the princess turned back towards them and shook her head with a slight, wry smile.

“And of course, I ought not to neglect our esteemed guests,” the older woman went on, while behind her her daughter moved to trade a much quicker hug with her son. She looked over at the bald child standing there, gliding staff in hand, and touched a hand to her chest. “My name is Ursa, Fire Lady Dowager and current regent of the Fire Nation. You must be Aang, the Avatar I’ve been hearing about.”

“That’s me!” he said brightly.

She smiled pleasantly at him, before her amber eyes shifted briefly back a few paces towards the tribal siblings. “And you two are Sokka and Katara, guests from our new allies to the south.”

Allies? Katara thought disdainfully. You mean victims forced into servitude.

Aloud, however, she said nothing, settling merely for a terse nod. She glanced sideways at her brother, only to find his blue eyes firmly locked on the white-haired girl currently occupied embracing Azula a few paces behind Ursa. He didn’t even seem to be aware that he had been addressed. His sister elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow! Hey, wat-” Sokka abruptly cleared his throat, as his brain scrambled to catch up with his ears. “I mean, yeah, what she said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Katara muttered.

The Fire Lady cocked her head momentarily, before shaking it and moving on.

“Honored friends, I have the pleasure of introducing my son,” she said, gesturing behind her with both hands, “Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Your Flamey-ness!” Aang stepped forward at roughly the same time the enemy’s young king did, extending a hand towards him.

“Likewise,” the teenager returned the twelve-year-old’s bright grin with a somewhat more measured but still affable one, shaking his hand firmly. “I hope you’ll have a good time on our island,” his golden gaze flickered briefly towards the two tribals. “All of you.”

Fat chance.

“And this is Princess Yue,” Ursa continued as her son took one step back to let the other girl through. “Firstborn daughter to Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe and soon to be my daughter as well.”

“Very nice to meet you!” her smile was, if anything, even more pleasant looking than her fiancé’s. Katara didn’t buy it for a second, though it never faded as she too shook Aang’s hand.

The dark-skinned girl showed a little more initiative than had the remainder of her chosen family, in that she stepped past the Avatar and walked a few paces to extend her hand towards the Water Tribe siblings as well. Katara took the traitor’s slimy claw with the utmost reluctance, fighting the temptation to try and crush the delicate digits in a working woman’s grip, and releasing them as quickly as possible and still feeling dirty for having down so. She absolutely refused to return the other girl’s smile.

It was only as the princess pulled away that the southerner noted the similarities in basic design between her mother’s necklace and the white one around the northerner’s neck. If anything, that insult only made her hate the snow-haired girl more.

Sokka, on the other hand, seemed to hesitate when that same soft, refined hand was extended in his direction. Her brother stared awkwardly at the girl’s hand for a second or two, then up at her face, then back at her hand.

Is he… is he blushing?! Katara’s inner voice sounded more than a little put out.

At last, the southern boy shook the northern girl’s hand, with considerably more vigor than his sister had. It went on a few seconds longer too.

“It’s nice to finally meet the heirs of our sister tribe. We’ve been out of contact for far too long. I hope we can work to fix that during your stay.”

“Yeah…” Sokka replied, somewhat vacantly.

Once that handshake was done, Yue gave both siblings a warm smile and a respectful nod before stepping back into line with the remainder of the Fire Nation’s royal family.

“Soooo,” Aang spoke up, looking up at the older woman, “I hear you’re Avatar Roku’s granddaughter, is that right?”

“Indeed, I am,” the Fire Lady confirmed with a smile and a nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet my ancestor’s reincarnation.”

Liar, Katara thought.

“Just call me grandpa,” he said cheekily.

Ursa chuckled softly. “Maybe once you’re old enough to grow a beard, young man. You simply can’t sell the look without one.”

To the tribal’s bitterness but not surprise, the young Avatar returned the laugh.

“As fun as standing around beside the docks is,” Azula’s familiar voice cut in, “The journey isn’t quite over,” her eyes fell briefly on the siblings before locking back onto the airbender, “for any of us. I don’t know about the rest of you, but Uncle and I have been away from home for quite long enough.” She looked back up at the deck of her ship. “And I think Appa there would appreciate some better food than the rhino-feed we happened to have on hand.”

The titanic white bison gave a loud rumble of agreement, audible even at this distance.

“You guys wanna try riding Appa up the mountain?” Aang asked the royal family. “I guarantee it’s way faster than however you were planning on going – and more fun!”

“…I don’t think our entourage will quite fit,” the Fire Lady smiled in a slightly apologetic manner. “And it would be rather rude of us to just leave them all behind. Perhaps another time.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged slightly.

“But I do think my daughter is right,” Ursa continued. “Caldera is still some distance from here,” her amber eyes drifted towards the tribal siblings, “and there is a stop to make along the way.”

The “Sozin Academy for Students Abroad”, they called it. It was located in the city of Shan Zhi Ghen at the foot of the extinct volcano, practically within spitting distance of the switchback road leading up to Caldera City proper, from where Katara and Sokka had parted company from the royal family. They’d bid Aang a quick and supposedly temporary goodbye all but in the shadow of what was supposed to be their home away from home. Hakoda’s daughter felt that prison was a more accurate comparison.

The academy itself was actually a sprawling compound rather than a single building, completely enclosed within an alabaster white wall topped with cherry red roof tiles and golden flame accents. The dual gates were intricately worked bronze depicting a variety of scenes both mythologic and historical, with the hated symbol of the Fire Nation rendered in brass at their center. A twenty-foot statue of what Katara presumed was the eponymous Fire Lord waited to greet her and her brother when the gates swung open, a striking visage of white marble and polished brass staring down at any new arrivals. Like everything else about this place, it was immaculately clean.

Just past the statue were several neatly placed rows of the Fire Nation’s signature white stone, red-roofed buildings, each two stories high and separated by flagstone paths dotted regularly with islands of verdant green bushes. As she followed her appointed guide past them, Katara observed signs with names like “Phoenix Flight Training Hall” and “Harmonious Prosperity Learning Hall” mounted above their double cherry wood doors.

The academy’s vast central courtyard was almost completely covered by a bright sea of lush green, a well-tended garden refusing to wilt in spite of the season. There were no flowers to be found at this time of year, but the trees were still covered in leaves, the neatly trimmed hedges still offered ample shielding from prying eyes, and the grass was a verdant shade of emerald green. Numerous artificial streams crisscrossed the area, each winding its way through the luscious vegetation to a central pond with a dual dragon fountain at the heart of it. Large, bright, cheerfully colored koi fish swam contentedly through the crystal-clear waters all throughout the garden. It was no wonder that so many of the stone benches the tribal siblings and their guide passed by were occupied.

Then there were what she presumed must be the other “students”. None of the others she witnessed during her brief jaunt across campus appeared to be of Water Tribe origin – presumably because the northern traitors weren’t considered necessary to indoctrinate – though some had skin pale enough and hair dark enough to pass for Fire Nation. Most, though, were clearly drawn from Earth Kingdom stock, and wore the greens, whites, and golds of their homeland. A few girls and at least one boy she saw had apparently decided to ape their masters’ style of dress, choosing combinations of gold-accented red, black, and charcoal grey instead. In any case, each and every one was clearly richly dressed, and several were being actively followed around the compound by lesser-dressed adults she presumed to be personal servants of some kind. They ranged in apparent age from a year or two her junior to a few years her brother’s senior. No truly little children here, apparently.

Katara and Sokka’s assigned dormitories were just on the opposite side of the garden. Two more dual-story white stone buildings with red roofs, one for girls and one for boys. The tribal girl was met at the entrance with an older, grey haired woman with high cheekbones, one Matron Zin, who apparently served as the head of her hall. Her personal room was on the first floor, and it was… big.

Actually, that was something of an understatement. The space she’d been given had a frontal lounge area easily as large as the interior of the biggest tent back in her home village, a separate dining room with a low-set table with enough cushions for four, a bathing chamber with a man-sized bathtub of hammered brass and another of those strange “shower” fixtures she’d seen aboard Azula’s ship, a separate area in which to perform necessary bodily function, and of course a bedroom with an amply-sized crimson bed laid out for her. Her accommodation was more accurately described as an entire apartment, for the sole use of one person.

It was when Katara was in that bedroom, unpacking her meager belongings, that she heard a faint knocking on her door. She paused, considered, and then turned away from her small selection of similar outfits that wouldn’t even take up a third of her allotted closet space. Walking back out of her bedroom and across the lounge, she opened the door to find a pale-skinned, black-haired woman looking to be in her mid-twenties, wearing dark red robes, and standing out in the hall.

“Begging your pardon, Lady Katara,” the woman looked a little anxious. “May I come in?”

“Lady” Katara? Hakoda’s daughter raised an eyebrow but nodded anyway, backing up to admit her to the lounge.

“My name is Shian,” she explained, pressing her fist into one palm, and bowing her head respectfully. “The school’s administration was informed that you weren’t bringing any attendants with you, so I’ve been assigned to act as one of yours during your time here. I came to see if you required any assistance with settling in.”

“No. And what do I need attendants for?” the tribal girl asked.

The other woman blinked in obvious surprise. “To prepare your meals,” she began, hesitantly, “wash your clothes, bring you your correspondence, fetch you things from the market, manicure your nails, trim and style your hair, bathe you if you like. That sort of thing.”

“I usually just do most of that stuff for myself, though.”

“That’s… not proper for noble lady here, my lady,” Shian seemed reluctant to contradict her, but pressed forward regardless. “I don’t know what life was like in your homeland, but here in the imperial heartland such mundane duties are considered beneath your status. Please,” she bowed her head again, “allow us to serve you.”

“Ummm…” the tribal girl’s voice was slightly uncomfortable, “okay?”

“Thank you, Lady Katara,” the servant girl smiled gratefully, bowing her head a little bit lower.

This place was not a particularly hellish prison, the Water Tribe girl admitted to herself. In some ways, it might prove harder to bear than if it were.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Aang’s voice echoed later that afternoon, as he walked through one of the palace’s many high ceiling hallways. “I’d even go so far as to call it flamin’.” That earned him a slight chuckle from the northern princess. “What’s up with all the boxes, thought?” he jerked his thumb towards the fourth such room they’d passed filled up with crates. “Somebody getting ready to move?”

“My sixteenth birthday is in just a few weeks,” Yue informed him as they walked. “Not long after the winter solstice has passed. Zuko and I are having our wedding that evening.”

“And you’re already stockpiling stuff for it?”

“We’re expecting basically the entire city to show up,” the Fire Lord explained from his opposite side. “Plus, representatives of the nobility from the Fire Nation, the Water Tribe, the friendly parts of the Earth Kingdom, the colonies, the admiralty, the general staff, and half the people with a Caldera passport for a hundred miles in any direction.”

“That sounds… big,” the Avatar winced sympathetically. “Just thinking about it makes me sweat a little bit.”

“Well, we weren’t planning to make you get involved in the work of preparations,” the snow-haired girl told him in a polite tone. “Maybe you’d like to come, though? We could reserve a spot at our table for you.”

“Well, I was planning on going home after talking with you guys, but… that does sound like a pretty nice party. I’ll think about it.”

“Be sure to let us know ahead of time,” Zuko warned. “The competition over seats there is pretty stiff. Rumors have been going around of at least one Agni Kai so far, and we haven’t even hit the actual month of yet.”

“I will,” he nodded.

“Well, anyway, that about wraps up our tour of the palace,” the dark-haired young man said, as waiting servants pulled open a door ahead of them.

“Or at least the highlights of it,” his fiancé added, as the trio passed through the yawning portal.

“Which brings us back around to…”

“Me,” Ursa finished for her son, rising from the lounge sofa on which she’d been sitting next to her daughter. “Welcome back, Aang.”

The guest chamber in which the Fire Lady had chosen to be reunited with her guests was, by the standards of the Fire Nation’s imperial palace, rather cozy, which meant in practice that it only had the floorspace of a small apartment. It featured several large, plush crimson sofas with frames of aged cherry wood, clustered around a long table featuring a delectable, aromatic array of cakes, pies, pastries, tarts, and teas, the scents of which mingled and wafted freely through the room. A few still had trace amounts of steam rising from them.

“Hopefully Zuzu and Ice Queen didn’t get you lost too many times,” Azula added, as she likewise rose to her feet.

“Zuzu?” Aang covered his mouth, snickering slightly. “Ice Queen?”

“Azula,” the regent put one hand on her hip and gave the girl a disapproving side-eye. “I’ve told you not to tease your brother in front of guests.”

“But it’s always been alright in front of family,” she replied, an expression of almost angelic innocence on her face. Her brother and his fiancé glared briefly at her.

“Well, regardless…” the Fire Lady sighed and shook her head. “While you were out, I had our palace kitchens do a little bit of baking,” she gestured at the rich spread of sweet things laid out in front of them. “Please, help yourself. The cooks were informed of your sensibilities – none of it has any meat.”

“We had to keep the whole thing a secret from Uncle,” the princess added, eyes following the trio of new arrivals as they took seats across table from the two women already present there. “Otherwise half of it would be gone already.”

“…Yeah, I can kinda see what you mean,” Aang scratched the back of his head for a moment, then set his staff to one side and began piling some miniaturized egg custard tarts onto a plate, followed by a mochi donut and some assorted cookies. “I dunno how you guys resisted. This stuff smells great!”

Yue leaned over and whispered in the Avatar’s ear. “They didn’t. Trust me.”

The airbender snorted, frantically stifling a giggle with one hand. From across the table, Azula shot a glare right back at the other girl.

“I find that sweet treats often take the edge off serious business,” the older woman said after a short pause to let the child enjoy himself, pouring herself a cup of tea and taking a refined sip. It spoke volumes to her experience that the task wasn’t hindered at all by her long golden nail guards. “Of which I’m afraid there is some to speak of.”

“Azula did mention we’re… technically still at war,” the boy sounded profoundly uncomfortable at the idea.

“Not anymore,” Ursa shook her head once. “Unless you, speaking for the Air Nation, have any objections, I, as acting ruler of the Fire Nation, with the Fire Lord’s approval,” she looked over at her son, who nodded, “say that the conflict between us is over.”

“No Air Nomad would ever object to making peace,” he shook his head, touched his chest, and smiled. “That was easier than I thought. I’m sure they’ll be happy when I tell them.”

Azula wasn’t exaggerating this boy’s naivete, the Fire Lady thought, watching him take a cheerful bite of another cookie. He didn’t even seem to be considering the possibility that, as what could be her nation’s single greatest remaining threat, she might have just decided to poison him. She hadn’t, but still, she hadn’t forgotten how.

“So,” the tattooed child continued after finishing the chocolatey treat. “That leaves just one war left to resolve, doesn’t it? The one between you and the Earth Kingdom.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “And I can tell you that that looks to resolve itself as well, quite soon.”

“Really?” his smile returned. “That’s great! Are you guys talking to the Earth King too?”

“…Not quite,” her daughter shook her head, cradling her own cup with one leg crossed. “Though I’ll add it isn’t for lack of trying.”

“Our messengers have been consistently turned away from the walls at Ba Sing Se,” the older woman explained. “They’ve not even been allowed inside the Agrarian Zone, much less into Kuei’s – that’s the incumbent Earth King – palace.”

“So…” he scratched his head. “How’s the war looking set to end? Are you talking to someone else?”

“No,” Ursa shook her head, replacing her teacup on its china plate. “A comet is coming, Aang. Next summer, in fact. It was once known as the Great Comet, or the Eye of Agni, but is now called Sozin’s Comet. When it arrives, it will imbue we firebenders with unimaginable power. No wall in the world, no matter how tall, thick, and sturdy, will stand a chance against us on that day. So, when that day arrives, we will harness its power, blast down the great walls, and in a single day seize the Earth Kingdom’s last great stronghold by storm. A longstanding boil will at last be lanced and the war, such as it is, will finally be over.”

The Fire Lady’s voice, and gaze, remained firm and unwavering as she said all of this. Her amber eyes stayed resolutely fixed on the Avatar throughout, scrutinizing his reaction closely. She watched as his grey eyes became wide as dinner plates at her words, saw him double over in his seat, clutching his own head in his hands. She, and the rest of her family, waited patiently in silence, allowing the news a moment to truly sink in to the boy’s mind.

“…Why?” he finally asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. The child looked down at his hands, visibly struggling to find words. “Can’t you just… not?”

“It’s not quite that simple. You see, child,” Ursa began. “We’ve a very important mission.”

Azula nodded. “A truly impressive quest.”

Zuko shook his head. “They think we mean to do them harm…”

“When we only want what’s best,” Yue finished for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Avatar looked around at them. “How is war supposed to be best for anyone?”

“Aang,” the Fire Lady began in a soft tone. “Have you noticed, since you’ve arrived here, how well the Fire Nation is doing? How prosperous our nation is, and remains, in spite of the expenses incurred during such a massive military undertaking?”

“You’d be more prosperous without it,” he insisted immediately.

“But the rest of the world wouldn’t,” she replied. “The Fire Nation is the most advanced, most powerful, and most successful empire in existence. In history. Surely the fact that we’ve fought the entire rest of the world, combined, for a hundred years and are not only winning but decisively winning, while not being reduced to abject poverty, is proof enough of that?”

“And that’s why we’re doing this,” Azula explained. “Don’t you think that rest of the world should get benefits of such a system, and not just us? For many, access to the Fire Nation’s prosperity would be the difference not just subsistence agriculture and a comfortable life, but literally between life and death. Unlike in another kingdom you could name, in our land our people’s welfare is a priority.”

“How are you protecting their welfare by sending them to their deaths?!” Aang protested vehemently, looking each of the royals in the eyes.

“Sometimes… for the greater good,” Zuko swallowed once, “we have to make sacrifices. That’s part of being a leader, however uncomfortable it may be.” His fiancé placed one of her hands atop one of his, rubbing the back of it comfortingly with one thumb. “When we see what the alternatives are, we know we have to do it. It was a choice between either dealing all the world’s problems once and for all, or else watching them continue to slowly eat away at not just the other nations, but ours too.”

“It’s not as though we mean the peoples of other nations any harm,” Ursa said. “We really, truly, only mean for this war to help. To lead, ultimately, to a golden age for everyone. But to accomplish this, we must have the final say on what is and is not done. Those who are willing to cooperate in this,” she glanced at her future daughter-in-law, “are not, and will not, being hurt. They will find in the Fire Nation a beneficent liege, and a faithful friend.”

“Yue… you’re not from the Fire Nation,” Aang looked over at the girl in white and red robes seated beside him. “They’re talking about taking over an entire kingdom, wiping out an entire government for not being Fire Nation – one that’s like your tribe’s. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Don’t compare my tribe to that place.” Yue told him in a stern tone, a deep-set frown appearing on her refined features. “Ba Sing Se encouraged our sister tribe in its delusions, encouraged it to bleed itself dry, all for its own benefit. They used and abused them, to the point that their men had become so unnatural as to leave their own wives and children completely defenseless, all to defend a continental kingdom with orders of magnitude more men to draw on than the southern tribe ever had even at its height. And in return for all of that, the Earth Kingdom wrote the southerners off completely. Never did a thing to protect any of them. They’d have done the same to my tribe if we’d been foolish enough to let them. Papa and Grandpa and Great-Grandpa all received requests for aid, but never any offers of any,” she shook her head. “So, I’m not saying anything because I don’t think Kuei and his regime are worthy of preservation.”

“And also,” the snow-haired girl snuggled up to the Fire Lord, wrapping her arms around one of his and resting her head on his shoulder, “I think the Fire Nation will do a much better job of running the city than that cowardly snake and his Dai Li ever did.”

Zuko, for his part, had his face turn a shade redder, but still smiled gratefully down at Yue. She, in turn, looked right back up and smiled at him. He leaned over, and the two exchanged a quick smooch.

“And if you disagree with that assessment, then simply take your glider and have a look around our mountain,” Azula said, while her brother and sister-to-be were busy locking lips. “And compare what you see to the way the Earth Kingdom’s capital is run. Even in a hundred years, that place hasn’t changed much.”

“I’ve… never been to Ba Sing Se,” Aang admitted. “I always heard it was so different from the way the monks taught us to live.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it, at least not before we take charge,” Ursa told him. “If half of what our spies and those who’ve escaped the walls tell us is true, it’s quite a stifling and horrible place to be right now.”

“…Even if it is, does that really mean you have to conquer it?”

“Yes,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “We have the power, and it is our responsibility to use it to improve the world. Not to do so would be a dereliction of our duty, to ourselves and our posterity as much as to anyone else. When the world enters its coming golden age, everyone will benefit.”

Aang looked around the room, locking eyes with each of the four others seated around the table with him, clearly searching for something on their faces.

“…No,” he eventually said, shaking his head as he looked down, cradling it with both hands. “No, this isn’t right. This can’t be right!” The Avatar sat up, a pleading look in his grey eyes. “Please, I’m begging you, think of all the people that will get hurt if you attack Ba Sing Se! You’re talking about how bad the government is, but it’s the largest city in the world!”

“Exactly why we need to take it,” Ursa countered. “Imagine how many people are being hurt by its leadership right now. Yes, there will be suffering involved in the taking, but it be as little as we can manage, and only once. Then it will be over. Cutting the rotting flesh from an infected wound might be painful in the moment, but it is ultimately a healing process. The alternative is much greater suffering, over a much longer period.”

“…Why do you have to be like this?” Aang moaned, almost as if he was in physical pain. “I know you want to spread your prosperity, but why does it have to be by war? Why can’t you just… just give them back the land you took, and teach them to govern better?” His smile looked almost painful this time. “Why not just be friends with them?”

“I was afraid you might say something like that,” the Fire Lady sighed. “I was hoping we might avoid even heavier subjects on account of your age, but clearly you need some context.”

“Context?” the child looked confused.

Ursa motioned for a servant girl, who came forward, bowed her head, and handed the regent a prepared scroll case.

“Thank you, Zijian,” she nodded.

“My lady,” she bowed again, before retreating back into the shadows. The older woman took a long sip of her tea, draining the cup completely dry and setting it aside.

“You need to understand, Aang,” Ursa began slowly, in a measured tone, looking the boy straight in the eye. “That, even in the event that my family and I shared your beliefs exactly, it isn’t possible for us to just snap our fingers and make this conflict go away.”

“Of course it is!” he exploded. “You’re the Fire Lord!” he shouted at Zuko. “I’ve been to the Fire Nation before! I know the Fire Lord can do whatever he wants by your laws! You could tell your army to come home tomorrow!” His voice gained a sudden undercurrent of pleading. “Please tell your army to come home tomorrow. End this crazy war.”

Ursa sighed internally. Explaining complicated and messy political and geopolitical affairs to a naïve, opinionated twelve-year-old was not exactly her idea of a pleasant afternoon.

“No…” her son shook his head slowly. “No, I can’t. It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?!”

“Because of what has already taken place,” she answered in his place.

“What do you mean by that?” the Avatar demanded.

“We have… many testaments, books, and monuments inscribed with the names of the Fire Nation soldiers who have been martyred during the hundred years that this war has raged,” she informed him. “Many of those are thousands, tens of thousands long.”

“Tens of thousands?!” the child whispered, looking down at his half-finished plate as though he couldn’t even imagine death on such a scale.

“And those are only those we have been able to identify for certain. The true toll of a century of war is certainly higher. The battlefield is not always kind to the dead.”

“And you want to… keep doing this?!” Aang’s grey eyes appeared to be genuinely watering. “Why? Why would you do that? Bring those men home! Don’t let them keep dying!” he pleaded.

“They’ve been dying a good deal less since our alliance with the Northern Water Tribe – their healing abilities are almost miraculous,” she informed him, pausing a moment to nod at Yue before continuing. “And dying is almost over now. Only one battle of significance yet remains, then it is all over. But the reason that I tell you this, Aang, is so you understand why, even if my family or I felt exactly as you do, we couldn’t simply tell the Fire Army to abandon our gains and come home.”

If the boy had had hair to tear at, he obviously would have been doing so. “…What?! How does a bunch of your people dying not make you want to bring them all back to safety?”

“Because if I did, then every one of those soldiers died for nothing,” the Fire Lady said. “In doing so, I would invalidate the tremendous sacrifices my people have born for a hundred years. I would turn them from martyrs to fools, strip the honor from their families and heap shame atop their heads instead.” She tilted her head slightly. “Perhaps you would like to be the one to knock on those doors across the Fire Nation, and explain to bereaved parents and orphaned children that their loved one’s sacrifice was that of a dupe, and absolutely in vain?”

The twelve-year-old child visibly cringed at that suggestion.

“No. The people, the army, those families, they would want to kill me, to kill any of us, for such treason. And I honestly would not blame them.” Ursa shook her head. “Such a move would guarantee civil war in the Fire Nation, Aang. Not peace.”

“But…” the Avatar considered for a moment, “couldn’t you at least stop where you are? You’re winning, right?”

“We’re on the verge of victory, actually. ‘Winning’ somewhat understates it.”

Ursa uncapped the scroll case, extracting a neatly rolled sheet of fine, high-quality paper. Pushing some of the pastry dishes aside, she unfurled an intricate and detailed map of the world, put together specifically for this meeting using the very latest intelligence from the battlefield. It showed the Fire Nation’s home territories and colonies in solid red along with the major cities under their army’s direct control, the Northern and South Water Tribes in overlapping blue and red stripes, and the Earth Kingdom’s remaining territory in green. The amount of that solid green, as compared to areas with overlapping green and red stripes, looked more than a little concerning from any enemy strategist’s point of view. The Avatar looked quizzically over the map for a few moments.

“From the looks of this, if you stopped fighting, and just left things where they are, the Earth Kingdom probably wouldn’t try attacking you, right?” His tone was audibly brightening when he looked back up at them. “You could still end all the fighting, end all the dying, and then maybe you could try talking to the Earth King to work out some way to resolve everything peacefully. He’d listen if the Avatar invited him to peace talks, right?”

“Possibly,” she acknowledged, “though our intelligence has never heard of King Kuei ever even leaving his palace.”

“But he’d come to talk to you for the sake of his kingdom. I’m sure he would.”

“Even if he did, even if he and I met face-to-face, even if we were willing to disregard the great mission for which our nation embarked on this course to begin with, the fact would still remain that such a thing would result in at best a fleeting pause in the fight. It would resolve nothing.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because they’ve been utterly humiliated in battle, over and over again,” Azula informed him from her mother’s side, taking a small sip of tea herself. “What they’ll want, more than anything, is revenge.”

“My daughter is right. Acceding to our triumph would require gracefully accepting a defeat of a historically unprecedented magnitude,” she told him. “And every glance at a map would remind them of that fact. Even if they chose not to continue the fight right away, chose to bide their time until they felt strong enough, the day would come when a new war would break out. Revanchism and revenge would be their whole reason for being until it did. Such a course of action would ultimately do nothing but delay the inevitable final reckoning, and it would take place on less favorable terms for us. This war must be ended permanently. The upcoming comet provides the best possible opportunity to do so. Too much blood has been spilt, too much territory has traded hands already for any other outcome to be on the cards.”

“Why would spilling more blood make anything better?!” he protested. “That’s crazy!”

“I don’t expect a child to be wise to the ways of the world,” she shook her head. “But if you wish to protest my international policy, then you cannot be left ignorant. If I allow the Earth Kingdom stall for time, to endure as it is, then the next generation – those that don’t die as infants for want of cures the Fire Nation perfected long ago – will grow up hearing that the Fire Nation is evil incarnate. Rapacious, cruel, savage, destructive, every possible accusation there is will be leveled at us. Hatred between our nations will fester, until it inevitably boils over into a new war. One in which we lack a crucial but temporary advantage that we will soon have. One which will require a long, grinding, bloody conventional siege to take Ba Sing Se rather than a single quick and decisive blow. The only way to stop that now is to finish taking control of the continent, and let the next generation see for themselves that it is not so.”

“Or just be nice to them,” the boy replied. “Don’t you think they’d forgive you, if you just stopped attacking and gave them their land back?”

“…No,” Ursa replied. “No, I don’t think that. And, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t give them all their prewar land back anyway.”

“Why not?”

“The people of the colonies,” Zuko said right away.

“Yes. Whole swathes of territory are covered in Fire Nation colonies, child,” she gestured towards large sections of the northern coast, rendered in solid red. “There are many, many Fire Nation citizens living on previously neglected and underpopulated lands there, not a few of mixed descent. For most, it is the only home they have ever known. They owe my family and I fealty, and I in turn owe them my loyalty and protection. I cannot let them fall victim to the inevitable pogroms and expulsions and massacres that would take place, were the Earth Kingdom government to reclaim control of that territory. They trust me and my family, and we must not let them down.”

“I mean… they are kinda living on land you conquered from someone else,” despite his words, the boy clearly sounded uncomfortable with the idea of the colonies’ residents being so victimized, grey eyes looking anxiously at the many red blobs and dots scattered up and down the continent. “I can see why that would make the Earth Kingdom mad, but maybe there’s still some way your peoples could live tog-”   

“How do you suppose the Earth Kingdom was unified – to the degree that it ever was – in the first place?” she interrupted in a stern, yet motherly tone. “Do you just think everyone across the entire continent just decided that they loved Ba Sing Se so very much that they would crown its leader their Earth King? That continent was taken by force of arms, Aang, and all its disparate provinces and peoples made to swear fealty to Ba Sing Se at the point of a sword. Those peoples and tribes who continued to resist were driven out of the good lands and into barren wastes like the Si Wong Desert or killed off completely. This happened several times throughout the various periods of quarreling warlord states, in fact. We have many history books on the subject if you would like to read them.”

“…Not really,” he looked more than a little queasy at the idea.

“I don’t see how what I’m doing today is so different from what King Kuei’s forebearers did, save that my nation is manifestly so vastly superior at running its territories.” She looked over at the Avatar. “If the line of Earth Kings can go from conquerors to legitimate leaders acknowledged by Avatars of old, including other airbenders, why can my family not do the same? We will be so much better for that continent’s people.”

“Those wars you’re talking about… they happened a long time ago, didn’t they? A hundred years ago there was peace in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Yes, and?” she raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Someday, this final war will also have happened a long time ago. If you can acknowledge Kuei to be the current rightful sovereign of his nation in spite of what his ancestors did to get there in the first place, I fail to see why it would be a problem for you or future Avatars to do the same for the line of my son.”

“The Fire Nation ruling the whole world would just be… so out of balance, even compared to what you’re saying happened with the Earth Kingdom before, I just don’t-”

“So, it’s just a matter of whose blood the conqueror hails from? Is that it?” the regent raised one eyebrow. “If I betroth a grandchild of mine to some Earth Kingdom noble, thus making the line of Fire Lords descendants of Fire, Water, and Earth alike, would that be balanced enough to satisfy your criteria?”

“They’ll already be of such lineage,” the princess beside her reminded her mother. “Great-grandfather Sozin’s grandmother was a princess from the Earth Kingdom, after all.”

“That’s not it! It’s not about the bloodline, it’s about… it’s about…” the child gave a distraught look. “Everything! Everything about this idea just seems so wrong.”

“It’s different when someone else does it,” Azula raised an eyebrow herself. “Is that it? Or is it just that’s it happening now, rather than some convenient time in antiquity where you don’t have to think about it?”

“Yes… no…” Aang squeezed both eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I… I-I don’t know… it just doesn’t feel right!”

I don’t think making international policy decisions on the basis of a twelve-year-old’s impulses is the wisest of moves.

“Well, while you’re thinking about that, I should point out that all that we’ve discussed so far is not even taking into consideration the other wars that would spawn as a result of our failure to finish the job now,” the Fire Lady pointed one engraved nail guard to several small blue-red striped island chains in the northern seas, between the north pole and the huge continent. “These islands were the subject of a border dispute between our Water Tribe friends and the Earth Kingdom, long predating the war. The question is now settled, by right of conquest and by decree of the Dragon Throne. Revanchists within the Earth Kingdom would never accept this and would clamor to seize the islands back from those that ‘betrayed’ them. And then we would be drawn back in as well, to support a loyal ally. We can’t abandon our friends, Aang. My family and I can’t abandon Yue’s people, like Kuei did with your friends’.”

Across the table from her, the snow-haired princess herself nodded appreciatively.

“And then of course there are the inevitable wars within the Earth Kingdom. We have friends on that continent as well, child,” she swept her hand over patches of land marked with green-red stripes. “Men and women who prefer our rule that of Ba Sing Se, to that of a coward who hides behind his walls, leeching taxes and conscripts from his provinces while providing them little to nothing in return. Do you think that a miraculously victorious Earth Kingdom would simply accept such ‘traitors’ back into the realm with open arms? Do you think they themselves would simply be content to resubmit to the parasitic rule of a city whose yoke that they have already thrown off? There would be civil war, up and down the continent. Again, we would be drawn right back into conflict. The people there have sworn allegiance to us and the Fire Nation, unlike the occupant of the Badgermole Throne, remembers its subjects in their time of need.”

Aang continued to stare down at the map laid out on the table before him, his expression seeming to get more and more glum with each passing second.

“So, all in all, I fail to see how any of this is better for the Fire Nation, or even the remainder of the world, than simply taking Ba Sing Se by storm and ending the whole war there and then. Because, speaking objectively, that’s about all that’s left to do now.” Ursa sat back against the sofa and eyed up the Avatar. “If you would like to see the bloodshed cease as soon as possible, it seems to me that your best option would be to persuade the Earth King to surrender.”

“If he does,” Zuko said in a firm tone, “then while he and his government will be removed from power and investigated, you have my word as Fire Lord that the civilian populace of his city won’t be harmed.”

“Just like that of the Southern Water Tribe wasn’t at the end of our war with them,” Azula added. “You saw that for yourself.”

Their guest shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The regent swallowed a tasty bite of an apple puff pastry.

“But then again,” she patted her lips demurely with a napkin, “you’re the Avatar. Perhaps you could deliver a miraculous solution to all these issues for us. Do so, and I will consider your request to withdraw our armies from contested territory, because clearly you are a wonder worker and possessed of inhuman wisdom. Until then, I’m afraid that my clear duty is to answer no.”

“…I just wanted everyone to get along and be friends with each other, not fight and kill each other,” the poor boy sounded downright miserable at the idea. “Why can’t countries just be the way it was with me and Kuzon, or me and Bumi? Why does it have to be so complicated?!” he moaned and indeed was so busy moaning that he missed the elder woman’s eyes briefly widen ever so slightly.

Bumi?! Surely, he can’t be referring to… but then the rumors say he’s been there since before the war began…

“It’s a very nice vision, Aang,” Ursa shook her head slowly. “But a vision without the power to see it through is nothing but an ephemeral dream. It helps no one.”

“Power can’t be all that matters though, right?”

“Not everything, but it is half the equation necessary for anyone who would do more in the world than simply sit back and watch. A firm vision of where you wish to go is the other half. And, from where I sit, only the Fire Nation has proven itself to have the necessary mix of both to truly change the world.”

“Fire,” the regent explained to him, “is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have long had desire and will, and the energy and drive to achieve what they want. It’s in our nature.” Here she paused, staring at the map with a contemplative. “And what I want is to make that vision – your vision – a living, breathing reality. A world of peace, where everyone can live happily.” She gave a slightly wistful sigh before hardening her face. “But sometimes, in order to get to where you want to go, where you must go, sacrifices have to be made.”

“…Why do the sacrifices have to be people’s lives thought?”

“I’ll say it again: if you can tell me another way to end this war, one that does not involve me telling my people that their great sacrifices of a hundred years have all been utterly futile, does not involve me abandoning Fire Nation citizens to face ethnic cleansing, does not require us to stop defending our allies in either the Water Tribe or the Earth Kingdom, brings an end to the current climate of the Earth Kingdom’s capital, and ensures a stable and lasting peace between us and what remains of Ba Sing Se’s domain rather than a temporary pause before an inevitable revanchist war on less favorable terms for us, I am willing to hear you out. For the life of me, I can think of no way to satisfy all these criteria, save victory. But you are something truly special. Perhaps your ancient wisdom can provide us with an acceptable resolution.” She looked at him dead on, amber eyes boring into grey. “Solve this problem for me if you can, Avatar.”

The young airbender broke eye contact, looking away from regent’s face and down more towards his boots. He gripped his glider with both hands, and she could see the boy’s knuckles turning white. His eyes closed, his facial muscles tightened, and she could make out tiny beads of sweat forming along his shaved forehead, but he remained quiet. The seconds in that room dragged on in somber silence.

“…You don’t truly want any of this responsibility, do you, child?” Ursa eventually got up, walked around the table, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want this burden of being the Avatar. You don’t want to decide international affairs. You don’t want to fight. You just want to enjoy the happy innocence that is the birthright of all children.”

“No…” he admitted quietly. “No, I don’t.”

“You don’t have to take this on,” she told him in a reassuring tone, rubbing his back with the thumb of one hand and bending over so her face was level with his. “I won’t make you. Zuko won’t make you. Azula won’t make you. We’ve no wish to force these weighty decisions on you, let alone be in conflict with you.”

As she looked right into the airbender’s uncertain face, Ursa’s expression was gentle and calm, comforting in that way a good mother knows how to be.

“In fact,” she continued after a moment, “you’re welcome to stay here if you would, to make your home in the Fire Nation as the other descendants of your people have. You can even live here with us if you like – we are like your family, after all. I hear that my daughter has been teaching you to firebend. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to continue your lessons right here at the palace.” She looked over at said daughter, who nodded her assent.

There was a drawn-out period of silence all around them. The young Avatar that didn’t want to be was leaning on his staff, staring down at his boots.

“All you have to do, Aang,” the Fire Lady said, reaching out one long-nailed hand out to him and smiling softly, “is nothing more than what, deep down, you already want to.”

Chapter Text

“I…” Aang said, eyes shifting away from the Fire Lady’s. “I…I…”

“I know this all must be shocking for you,” she told him in a soft, motherly voice, rubbing his back a little more. “Believe me, I know. But this isn’t a burden you need to take on. It’s a burden you’re much too young to be asked to bear. You know you’re too young to be asked to bear it. And we won’t ask it of you.”

The child Avatar gave a low moan, his face downcast.

“Children deserve freedom, and friends, and innocent fun,” Ursa told him, conviction evident in her tone, her hand still outstretched. “Not to be asked to solve all the problems of the world. Believe me, I know,” her smile became slightly self-deprecating, “shielding a child of mine from a burden he was far too young for at the time was the entire reason I came to lead my nation in the first place. I’m more than ready to help you in the same way. After all, you’re like part of my family as well.”

“I… I need a minute,” the boy managed at last, looking back up at her. “This is… just so much to take in, I… I have to think. Please…” his grey eyes looked imploringly up at her, briefly, before wandering back down towards the floor.

Ursa’s amber eyes slid over towards her daughter. Azula’s own looked back at her. The princess gave her mother a subtle nod.

“Very well then, Aang” she said, resuming her full height and folding her arms into her robe’s long sleeves. “You are free to choose.”

“What am I supposed to do, buddy?” Aang asked Appa not long afterwards.

From where he stood atop the flagstone courtyard nestled deep inside of the palace’s perimeter wall, the flying bison let out a low, rumbling grunt before tucking back into neat pile of hay laid out in front of him.

“…You’ve got a point,” the airbender sighed, sinking back into a slumped, seated position against one of his friend’s six legs. “It’d take us at least a week and a half of flying to get back home from here. Maybe two. So, we should at least stay the night.” Aang sighed again. “But then what do we do?”

The people that lived here, Azula’s family… they weren’t just fighting a war, they were leading it. And they meant to finish it by next summer’s end. They’d told him so, right to his face. They thought it was the right thing for them to do. Even though spirits knew how many thousands more lives, on both sides, would be lost if they went and attacked Ba Sing Se, no matter how powerful this comet was supposed to make them. He knew from his travels that none of the other nations had ever subscribed to Air Nomad pacifism, but hearing them just say things like that out loud…

But what was he supposed to do about it?

If he decided to fight them, he’d just be restarting the war between their people and his, wouldn’t he? And he didn’t want to fight them – he didn’t want to fight anyone. And he’d promised Azula that the firebending she had taught him would never be used to harm any of her people. How could he go back on that, after how nice she’d been to him? She’d had every chance to hurt him, or Katara, or Sokka, during their voyage and passed on them all. She’d trusted him enough to begin teaching him firebending, just to help him out. How could he turn around and attack her family, right after they’d invited him into their home? What kind of Air Nomad did something like that? The monks’ teachings on the matter were as clear as crystal: violence was never the answer.

And if Azula fights anything like she trains, I’d probably just lose to her anyway, he thought. I don’t even know what her brother or mother or uncle can do. And then there’s all their guards.

And if half of what they had said in that room was true – and why wouldn’t it be, they’d been as good as their word on everything he’d seen so far – then even if he fought them, even if he somehow won and left the entire royal family as moaning heaps on the ground, even if that somehow convinced them to call off the attack and completely withdraw their armies, then the bloodshed wouldn’t even stop! It’d just spread throughout the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation as both collapsed into civil wars. Maybe parts of the Earth Kingdom would wind up fighting with Yue’s Water Tribe and Zuko’s part of the Fire Nation too. And he was supposed to solve all that?! He was twelve years old!

Aang clutched his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and curling up into a little ball against his friend’s white fur. It wasn’t fair! He was just one kid! All he’d ever wanted was to play games on air scooters with his friends from the temple, play pai sho and pranks with Gyatso, and go penguin sledding with the cute girl he’d met in the south pole. He didn’t want anything to do with war or deciding other people’s lives for them! Why did he have to be the Avatar? Why couldn’t it be someone else? This supposedly special destiny had never brought him anything but trouble and grief.

Groaning audibly, the boy sank as far as he could into Appa’s leg, trying his best to remember the advice of the wisest man he’d ever known. What was it Monk Gyatso had said to him after he’d found out about this whole Avatar mess?

“We can’t concern ourselves with what was,” he recalled that his mentor had told him, “we must act on what is.”

Right… the boy took a deep, calming breath, and held himself a little tighter. Act on what is.

If that map that he’d seen today was anything close to truthful, then the Fire Nation had only to break open the walls of the Impenetrable City, and the war was as good as over for the Earth Kingdom. What were his options?

He could fly away from here, and somehow hope that in a little over half a year he’d somehow become strong enough to fight and drive off an entire army by himself, on the day that some mystical comet made them supercharged.

He could violate every tenet the monks had ever taught him by attacking someone who hadn’t attacked him first, someone who had done the exact opposite of attacking him from the first moment that they’d met, and hope both that he didn’t just lose and that somehow being beaten down by air blasts inside their own home by a guest they’d invited inside would make them reconsider the attack instead of just invoking the famous firebender’s temper.

He could fly back home and look for wherever the other airbenders had gone to, and then just sit out the war like they were presumably choosing to do, as they had before on occasions where diplomacy had failed.

Or… he could accept the invitation of these people, these descendants of his own past life. He could stay here with them in their capital city, sleep as a guest inside their palace, and try to get as close as possible to the people making the big decisions, the ones that would shape the fate of the world.

Maybe… maybe Sokka was wrong. Maybe you could fight firebenders with fun.

If he’d been away from home for a hundred years already, would a few more weeks or months really make that big of a difference for anybody there? If, on the other hand, he was here, he might be able to make a huge difference. These people… whatever Katara said, they weren’t evil at heart. They were just making a mistake. A big mistake. He might be able to make them see that, somehow.

It wasn’t like he expected to convert them to airbender pacifism – spirits knew that had barely ever happened to a firebender, or anyone from the less enlightened nations, before, even when they weren’t at war. Not even Kuzon had agreed with that way of life, the one time he’d brought it up. But this royal family obviously cared about the people from their nation, from both their nations, and their subjects from their territories on the Earth Kingdom continent too. It wasn’t in the interests of any of those people to be sent off to bleed and die in some stupid war to conquer the world, when they could be at home with their friends and families instead, living their lives in peace.

If Azula’s family liked him… if they trusted him… if they saw that, no matter what stupid lies they believed about the Air Nomads, he’d forgive them their ignorant slander… if they saw he really, truly didn’t want any harm coming to the peoples of the Fire Nation or the Northern Water Tribe… Maybe, just maybe, they’d listen to him.

He was just one kid. What other chance did he even have?

“And who knows?” the child petted the fur of his long-time friend and spoke in a soft voice. “Staying here might be a good time.”

Appa gave a low, rumbling growl.

Just then came the sound of another low rumble. The young airbender looked up from his near fetal position to see the titanic palace gates swinging open, and a small, lone figure emerging from within the mammoth structure.

“Aang,” Azula said as she approached him, her voice soft and expression one of concern. “It’s getting late. The sun will be down soon.” She paused, taking a moment to look over at the horizon. “Wouldn’t you rather be inside on a winter night? Dinner time has already passed, but we saved some for you.”

“I…” Aang looked down at his boots, then back up at her. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I really would.”

The Fire Nation’s princess smiled a gentle smile and extended a hand. The Avatar smiled faintly back, then reached up and took it.

From her position atop a high palace balcony, Fire Lady Ursa watched her daughter slowly lead their newest guest back inside through the great double doors far below, which ground shut behind them. She turned and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

It worked, she thought to herself. It really worked.

That was good. That was very good.

Admittedly her first impulse, upon hearing from her son’s lips that the Avatar had at last been found, had been that she must send at once for the Fire Nation’s finest assassin, for, spiritual family or no, surely the reemergence of the ancient master of all four elements at this critical hour could only mean he had decided at last to enter the war against them? Thousands of her people’s lives could rest on her swift and decisive reaction. But then Zuko had explained more. Then she had read Azula’s first letter for herself. The Avatar, the Fire Nation’s greatest remaining threat, was just a naïve, good-natured little kid.

In spite of that, the most brutally pragmatic thing to have done would still have been to give the trusting boy a dose of poison to make him lie down and die in his sleep. Perhaps even the same concoction she’d slipped Azulon, all those years before. From there, he would be reborn into one of the Water Tribes, both of which now fell under Fire Nation authority to greater or lesser degrees and could simply be obligated to bring his reincarnation to Caldera as an infant. But standing in the way of that plan was the simple fact that the last thing she wanted was to clap a clearly very sheltered and innocent twelve-year-old child in chains, let alone kill him. Not unless he left her no other option. Not unless it was him or her children.

Fortunately for her, that eventuality seemed extremely unlikely. From what Azula had said, the boy was not only a pacifist, but such a pacifist that he would even use airbending to shoo away irritating insects onboard ship rather than swat them. If Aang considered the lives of even common vermin and feed beasts to be of deep moral significance to him, then the likelihood that he would ever willingly countenance the murder of a human being, a descendant of his own past life no less, was beyond remote, well into the territory of the absurd. That did, though, raise the question of where a mere child had acquired so ardent a conviction.

The idea that the Air Nomads were all pacifists was an obvious and ridiculous lie – there had been no few Fire Nation soldiers brought home in burial urns from those first battles. If what this naïve child believed of his culture was true, not one of them ought to have been, for trained soldiers beneath the comet would have been more than a match for anything but the fiercest and most skilled of warriors. Still, the very ardentness with which her daughter described the Avatar as holding to the idea of nonviolence raised uncomfortable questions for her – had there indeed been dissident, pacifist elements to that culture? Despite their unnatural and abhorrent practices – in particular the utterly inexcusable crime of ripping each and every infant away from their mothers at birth and never allowing the natural bonds of family to take hold – that had made the complete replacement of their culture with proper Fire Nation values absolutely necessary, might more of them have been saved than had actually been? Had Fire Lord Sozin, in ignorance and in the heat of fierce combat, made a terrible mistake?

Still… even if he had, what was she to do about it? The campaign was more than half a century past before she had even drawn her first breath. It would certainly have been a tragedy, but one for which there was no one alive who could fairly be called to account. Agni alone could judge them now. It wouldn’t change anything about her duties to her nation, their sacred mission, or the futures of her children. It would simply be another sad fact, in a world already all too replete with those. All the more reason to bring the war to as expedient an end as possible if anything. No more opportunity for such mistakes to happen.

A ruler can’t concern herself with what was. She must act on what is.        

The solution in the current situation, at least, seemed straightforward enough. Simply keep the Avatar from doing anything foolish, keep him here, and win his heart for the Fire Nation. It seemed like a simple enough task, considering how much he clearly already liked it to begin with. Win the war as planned and present the results to him as a fait accompli. If he meant a word about what he’d told her daughter about his pacifism, he wouldn’t want to do anything that would mean kickstarting a whole new round of bloodshed. From there, he could simply complete his education with them, including training by allied waterbenders and earthbenders. And then?

Well, once the war was resolved, and he was of an appropriate age, she was sure that her son would be willing to refurbish and return the Air Temples to Aang’s custody. The Fire Nation had always had a place for its religious orders, after all. If the boy found some like-minded people who wished to take vows of nonviolence and go and meditate on a mountain somewhere, then as long as it was a voluntary society of adults rather than children robbed of their birthright of families, they acknowledged royal authority, and weren’t a burden to surrounding communities, then she really didn’t see how that would be a problem. And if that idea wasn’t to his liking by that point, if he understandably found himself too attached to the Fire Nation and her family, there were always other ways of bringing him in.

“Say, Yue?” Aang asked, as he walked beside the northern princess down a palace hall later that evening. “You’re not from the Fire Nation either, but you’ve been living here a while, haven’t you?”

“On again, off again, ever since I was twelve years old,” Yue confirmed with a nod.

“Hey, that’s how old I am too,” he observed. “Kinda neat.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but… I guess it is,” she smiled faintly.

“Anyway, how was it for you? I bet this place is pretty different from the north pole.”

“It definitely is,” she nodded. “I’ll be honest, it was kinda scary at first. But then I met Zuko a couple of hours after I got here, and we had a lot of fun together that first day. Also, I fell out of a tree onto his head,” the royal girl giggled girlishly. “And he just let it go. It was kinda hard to see the Fire Lord as so dark and scary after that.”

Climbing trees with the Fire Lord. That’s not the kind of first date I’d have thought of, the airbender thought, picturing an altogether different Water Tribe girl in his head.

“And then I met Azula, and maybe she could be a bit scarier when she got really driven, but all she really wanted to play with us too.”

After training with Azula, the airbender could certainly imagine where Yue had gotten that impression from.

“And then I met Lady Ursa, and she was nice to me from the start,” the snow-haired girl continued. “Always asking after my health in the tropical sun, if I liked the food the palace cooks prepared, if my bed was soft enough…” she gave a warm smile. “Honestly, she was treating me like I was another daughter of hers by the end of my first visit here with Uncle Utoq. We were even getting our nails done in the Royal Spa together.”

Aang looked briefly at his own, close-cut fingernails, and wondered what the appeal was supposed to be in that. For him, it had always just been a matter of keeping them from getting in the way of anything, or worse a splinter from a glider getting jammed up underneath one again. That still hurt just to think about.

“So… what else do you like to do for fun around here?”

“Lots of things. One thing I really like is going to the beach. Back home, you can only go swimming in special little insulated buildings when there’s waterbenders around to keep the pools warm, but here there’s an entire ocean you can splash around in as long as you like without dying of hypothermia!” Her blue eyes sparkled. “And they have these fun, fast little one or two-person boats they call jet skis – just don’t try racing Azula in one unless you’re really ready to go all out.” The princess giggled slightly. “She doesn’t care if you’re both seasick when it’s all over, just that she wins.”

“No need to worry there,” Aang shook his head and grinned. “Airbenders have strong stomachs. All the flying and all.”

“…Yeah, I guess I can see how that’d work,” she acknowledged after considering it a moment. “Anyway, the glowing waves aren’t in season right now, that’ll be closer to summer, but when they’re here they make a great nighttime swimming spot. And beyond that, Lady Ursa’s gardens are really beautiful. A great place to do poetry or music, or just lie down and take a nap in the afternoon sun. They get so warm and cozy when you find just the right shaded spot, and the grass can feel so soft it’s almost like a bed, and you…” she actually covered her mouth with one delicate-looking hand and yawned. “You just feel like dozing off, even if you didn’t a couple minutes ago. Once summer and autumn start to roll around you can pick fruit right off the trees and have a snack before you do. The red plums are my favorite.”

“So, be sure to visit the gardens, got it.”

“Azula’s letters said that you like dancing, is that true?”

“You bet!”

“For me, I’ve only ever really done it casually, but for the serious dancer Caldera has quite a few dedicated troupes, some exclusively firebenders, some not. A lot of them are gearing up for big performances right now and – Oh!”

Yue’s eyes gleamed, as though she’d just remembered something. “And the Ember Island Players are coming to town soon! Ahead of our wedding, you see,” she grinned excitedly. “And they have a brand-new play that’ll be shown for the first time here too: Rise of the Fire Lady. It tells the story of Lady Ursa coming to lead the Fire Nation.” She clapped her hands together. “I’m going to the premier right before the solstice. Zuko may still have poor taste in theater, but I’ll find a way to drag him along. Would you like to come with us?”

Well… learning more about these people’s lives can’t hurt, he reasoned. And it might be fun.

“Sure,” he nodded. “I’ll come see it with you guys.”

“Won’t people recognize you?” Aang asked the next morning. “You’re the princess. Isn’t your face everywhere?”

“You’d be surprised,” Azula replied, from in front of a mirror. “Remove the crown, change the hairstyle, wear the clothes of an ordinary noblewoman? Not even upper-class people my age seem to realize I’m more than a girl who happens to look a bit like Crown Princess Azula.” She turned to face him. “No one expects to see her walking around the city on her own two feet with no bodyguards in sight, after all. And so, they don’t.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he mused.

With her bangs swept back and her long hair mostly down instead of being tightly bound into her topknot, the princess’s physical resemblance to her mother, already strong, was even more pronounced.

“Now, if I were, say, Ice Queen, it’d be a bit harder. But my features aren’t atypical for a Fire Nation woman. But you…” she scrutinized the boy, hand on hip. “You’re going to have to wear a hat while we’re about. And a collar.”

“Do I have to? I like feeling the wind on my scalp.”

“Given that the entire point of going incognito is to avoid being gawked at by crowds? Yes. Yes, you do. We don’t tattoo children in the Fire Nation.”

“I got these tattoos for being proclaimed an airbending master,” he explained. “I’m really proud of them.”

“Put on the hat, Aang.”

“Awww maaaan,” the airbender gave a visible, childish pout.

A couple of hours of walking tour later found the princess and the young airbender (plus wide-brimmed conical hat) seated at a table in a private, walled-off section of balcony on the second story of Caldera’s well-rated Flaming Phoenix restaurant. While primarily known for its meat skewers, it also featured a wide variety of fresh vegetables sourced from nearby farms, grilled, sauteed, and roasted, and naturally the slow-cooked dumplings were simply superb. “Lady Zin” had, of course, made reservations. But not just for two.

The gold-lined black curtains separating the two customers from the greater restaurant rustled, then parted as a waitress came through.

“Pardon me, milady,” the dark-haired, brown-eyed young woman said. “A young woman claiming to be your third has arrived up front.”

“Very good,” the princess nodded, the image of noble grace. “See her to us, please.”

“Of course,” the restaurant employee lowered her head deferentially, then disappeared back from whence she had come. Perhaps a minute later she returned with another, younger girl in tow.

“Ty Lee,” Azula smiled, replacing her menu on the table, and rising to her feet. “It’s been a while.”

The brown-haired young circus performer checked briefly over her shoulder to make sure the waitress was gone, before matching the princess’s smile with a wide grin of her own. “Azula. It’s so good see you again!”

“I’ve missed your company since you ran away to join that circus. Caldera just hasn’t been the same without you,” the princess shook her head and stepped towards her. “So, when I heard that it was coming to town, I knew I just had to invite you to come by.”

“And I knew I couldn’t say no,” Ty Lee embraced her old friend with a smile on her face. “It’s been too long.”

“Two years, next week,” the royal girl returned the hug. “How have you been?”

“Great!” her friend replied happily as they parted. “I’ve really liked it at the circus! My aura’s never been pinker! How about you?”

“I can’t complain,” she shrugged a little.

Ty Lee chuckled slightly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“So, what brought you back here, if I may ask?” she continued. “As I’ve heard it, you’re usually performing in and around the colonies.”

“Well, it is a bit out of our usual way, but Circus Master Kai said there’d be a lot of people with a lot of money in town for your brother’s wedding,” the acrobat explained, “and that they’d probably be wanting some entertainment during their stay. It could wind up being a big break for all of us.”

“If it would help you out, I’ll come see your show,” she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps I might even be able to drag some of the rest of my family along. That should get the wedding guests’ attention.”

Ty Lee’s eyes widened. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” Azula nodded. “What are friends for?”

The brown-haired performer smiled. “Thank you, Azula.”

The two girls shared another quick embrace. Once they pulled apart again, the princess nudged the circus girl further onto the private balcony, gesturing at the young boy kneeling on a cushion by the table.

“This here is a new friend of mine,” she introduced the child, who waved cheerfully at her. “His name is Aang.”

“Pleased to meet you!” he said brightly.

“There’s rumors going around about you…” Ty Lee breathed, looking him up and down. “You’re the Avatar, right? They’re saying Azula found you at the south pole. That she finally did what even her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather couldn’t.”

“That’s me,” he smiled and nodded.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Avatar Aang,” the performer said, as she took her seat. She looked him over again, then tapped a finger on her chin. “Say, how is it you’re looking so young? Weren’t you born like a hundred and twelve years ago?”

“I was… sorta… frozen in a block of ice,” he scratched the back of his head and looked a little awkward.

“Ice, huh? I’ll have to tell Izra about that,” Ty Lee mused aloud. “She’s so worried about losing her looks as she gets older, maybe if she starts including ice in her skincare routine…”

“I… don’t think that’s how it works, Ty Lee,” Azula shook her head.

“Aw, but don’t you think it could at least be worth a try?”

“Only if she likes frostbite,” the princess said flatly.

“You don’t have to rain on people’s parades, you know,” the other girl sighed. “Sometimes it’s okay just to let people have their fun.”

“You can say that again,” the airbender nodded his agreement.

Yes, the royal girl reflected, now that she saw the two of them side by side, the resemblance was utterly undeniable. They had the same rounded facial features and flatter noses that were so atypical for Fire Nation women. Grey eyes of the exact same shade. And, of course, the same naturally sunny, fun-loving disposition. If there weren’t an assimilated airbender somewhere in the acrobat’s family tree, she’d eat her topknot.

“Ty Lee,” the princess said, as though she’d just had an idea. “While we wait for appetizers to arrive, why don’t you show Aang some of your moves? I’m sure he’d be interested to see how well you can jump around.”

“Would you?” she asked.

“You bet!” he confirmed.

“Well then, you got it,” she nodded brightly at her old friend, before turning to the boy and clapping her hands together. “Now, pay attention kid, ‘cause you usually have to pay to see this sort of thing.”

“I’m paying for your lunch,” Azula said.

“Well… details,” the performer stood up, taking a few steps out past the roof overhang, directly into the sunlight. “Watch and learn!”

Ty Lee gave her audience a confident smile, bent her knees, tensed her body, and then all of a sudden sprang. And then the acrobat soared – soared right over the entire street below, in fact. She backflipped nimbly right over the collective heads of confused and gawking pedestrians below, landing gracefully about halfway up the bright red tiles of the opposite roof. There, she struck an impromptu circus pose and smiled cheerfully.

There was no way, Azula reckoned, that the lean muscles of her friend’s slender frame ought to have been able to carry her that far alone and unaided. Certainly, her own comparable physique couldn’t. She’d need jets of fire to propel her to similar heights.

“Hey!” the acrobat called down from across the way, putting her hands on her hips. “I can see your house from here!”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” the princess remarked to the airbender. “I’ve tried, over and over again, and I’ve never been able to do the same kind of stunts. No one else I know can. Only Ty Lee.”

The young boy’s grey eyes had gone slightly wider, and he was staring across the street at the red-tiled roof. For the space of a few heartbeats, that’s all he did. A faint smile appeared on the royal girl’s face.

“Hey, how do you do that anyway?” he eventually called over to her.

As if in answer, Ty Lee braced herself again, and without even the benefit of a single step’s running start leapt right back over the baffled onlookers on the street. She even tucked herself into a ball and rolled completely over, thrice, in midair. She nonetheless hit the balcony where she had started in a perfect crouch.

“…I dunno,” the acrobat resumed her full height and offered a vague shrug. “It just sorta… comes naturally to me, you know?”

“Yeah…” the Avatar nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Class, we have a new student joining our ranks this afternoon,” a sharp-faced, middle-aged woman with several streaks of grey running through her long black hair announced. Ms. Zillah, her name was. “Introducing Lady Katara, daughter of Chieftain Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe.”

A dozen and just about half again as many boys and girls in gold-rimmed greens and whites, all looking just about the young waterbender’s age, all clapped politely from where they knelt on cushions behind low desks of polished cherry wood. Each and every one of them was clearly a scion of some breeding, and their various robes and tunics were clearly both of very fine make and well-tailored. Indeed, had she not been so busy feeling insulted by what she could see from where she stood near the front of the classroom, she might have felt self-conscious about the comparative quality of her own blue and white outfit.

“As she is new to Sozin Academy, Lady Katara is not yet familiar with all of our customs here. We shall begin her tutelage with one of the most basic,” the instructor continued. “Demonstrate the Imperial Oath for her.”

All seventeen of her contemporaries rose to their feet in perfect unison, a smooth and practiced motion for all of them. As one, the class about-faced, pressed their fists into the palms of the opposite hand, and bowed their collective heads to a portrait of a bright-eyed, handsome young man with a subdued but beneficent smile on his well-defined face.

“My life I give to our empire,” the teenagers in front of her began, seeming to speak with one voice. “With my hands, I fight for Fire Lord Zuko and the future of my homeland.”

One of the waterbender’s dark hands curled slowly but inevitably into a fist.

“With my mind I seek ways to better our empire. And with my feet, may our March of Civilization continue.”

With that, all of the children raised their heads, lowered their hands, about-faced once again, and resumed their kneeling positions behind their desks. All of it was done with the well-drilled precision of a military machine.

“Very good,” Ms. Zillah nodded and gave the classroom a proud smile, before turning her attention back towards the new arrival. “Lady Katara, we begin lessons each day with that oath. Starting tomorrow morning, you will be expected to participate along with everyone else.”

Think of the tribe. Think of the tribe. Think of the tribe.

“I… understand,” she unclenched her fist with some reluctance.

“Very good,” the teacher nodded at her, before gesturing with the long brass pointing rod in one hand. “The empty desk in row three of column two is yours. You may take your seat. You’ll find that your textbook, your notebook, and your school supplies have already been laid out for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, turning away from the teacher and starting towards the indicated seat.

“Lady Katara?” the sound of the older woman’s voice froze the girl in her tracks.

“Yes,” she turned halfway around only with some effort, “Ms. Zillah?”

“I don’t know how affairs are conducted in the Southern Water Tribe,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “But in the Fire Nation, it is considered appropriate for any lady of bearing to show respect, by bowing to her instructors.”

“I…” the tribal girl thought of Gran-Gran, swallowed once, and forced herself to turn around. “…Yes” she eventually managed, pressing fist into palm in the same manner as the other students had and bending her back slightly, “Ms. Zillah.”

That afternoon’s course was called “History of the Earth Kingdom”, but Katara thought that “Why Ba Sing Se is Bad” would have been a more honest title. Because that’s what everything in it seemed to come back to. Some combination of laziness, failure, ineptitude, corruption, byzantine bureaucracy, or tyrannical behavior of the Earth King’s seat was apparently to blame for all of the provinces’ collective suffering and misery all throughout the centuries.

In just that last few hours alone, she’d heard the story of how the government in Ba Sing Se had drastically raised taxes on the Hu Xin provinces to fund the complete reconstruction of two of the city’s innermost walls on the sole grounds that the king at the time found them aesthetically unappealing, ignoring the drought and resultant famines sweeping through the lands at the time. The ensuing rebellions had, supposedly, been put down by troops brought in from the surrounding provinces over the course of seven bloody years, resulting in many thousands of brutal, unnecessary deaths, from which the great city itself was absolutely insulated.

Then there was another tale, this one from a period of warring states, about how Lord Giunji of House Gao, a loyal vassal of Ba Sing Se for many generations, had found his seat besieged by a coalition of several rebellious armies. In desperation, he had dispatched his own youngest son to the capital to beg for assistance from his liege lord, only to find himself so thoroughly stonewalled by the byzantine bureaucracy and demands for intricate courtly ritual that it took him nearly eight weeks to actually get inside the palace. By which time his ancestral seat had been razed to the ground, and his entire family put to the sword. Supposedly, the young man had wept and screamed during his long-overdue audience, cursing the Earth King who had done nothing to save his home or his family, in spite of their multiple generations of service to his ancestors. For this, the story went, the last scion of House Gao was seized and executed for high treason.

By contrast, Ms. Zillah said, in times of crisis even the lowliest soldier of the Fire Nation could expect to reach out to the Fire Lord himself quickly and reliably, with no more than a messenger hawk and a certain color of ribbon. Katara noted that she did not say what happened to a soldier who used this to convey news the Fire Lord thought unworthy of his attention, and only just restrained herself from asking.

The running theme continued right up until the present day, wherein Ba Sing Se’s military ineptitude and political insulation had, the narrative went, cost it numerous battles against a numerically inferior Fire Army, to which it had consistently reacted by pulling troops back behind its walls, leaving its provinces and vassal states to suffer the ravages of war all but unaided. Not even for Omashu, by all accounts the second-greatest city in the entire kingdom for many decades at that point, had the armies of the Earth King himself sallied out to assist. But the choicest bits of Fire Nation propaganda were saved for last, where they focused in on what became of desperate refugees who fled the conflict and sought safety behind the great city’s walls. It was, according to them, not a pretty picture.

“According to numerous reports from those who’ve fled the city to find safety amongst our territory, all new arrivals are sequestered in these walled-off districts riddled with poverty and crime, such as you’ve heard described in such vivid detail,” Zillah was saying. “There, they are exploited as cheap labor for the Middle and Upper Rings and preyed upon by gangs allowed by the city’s enforcers to run roughshod over the most helpless, in return for a cut of the ill-gotten gains.”

And I’m sure nothing like that ever happens in the oh-so-glorious Fire Nation.

“As if that were not enough, these arrivals are subject to heavy monitoring by Dai Li agents. Any who much as mention the war in public are being made to vanish in the dead of night, or even right off the street,” the instructor gestured with her stick towards a sketch pinned to a board on the wall, supposedly of an earthbending secret policeman. “The Earth King’s decadence has reached such an unprecedented height that he would rather erase his own needy subjects from existence than hear a word spoken of the war his own incompetence has lost him.”

As if any government would be that absurd, the southern girl thought. Who’d be stupid enough to believe Fire Nation propaganda this blatant?

Judging by the rapt attention being paid by the children around her, and the appalled expressions that several wore, the answer was quite a few of her new “classmates”.

“You’ll find the sworn testimonial of Li Sun Hai, former resident of the city of walls, in your textbooks on pages ninety-four through one hundred and six,” the older woman continued. “Your assignment for this evening is to read through this man’s story and write a four-page essay on how it ties back into the broader pattern of Earth Kings using repressive measures to cover up the consequences of governmental ineptitude, and how that has hindered their broader ability to effectively manage their kingdom.”

There were, at least, a few sour expressions on the faces surrounding her at that.

“And with that, the top of the hour has arrived.” Zillah compressed her long teaching rod down to the size of a small stick with a single efficient movement. “Class is dismissed.”

Winter in the Fire Nation was mild and warm, especially compared to what Katara was used to in the south pole. The plants, even if not actively blooming, were all still green, and the air balmy enough that she didn’t even feel compelled to wear long sleeves, much less a parka. All that, and the fact that travel to the surrounding city required a chaperone, made the sprawling garden at the academy’s heart a popular choice of locale for students once the indoctrination for the day was done. For the Water Tribe girl, it represented a place where the colors of the hated enemy weren’t visible, concealed as they were behind walls of greenery. If she stared into a gently babbling brook and tried really hard, she could pretend for a few precious moments that she was still free.

That was why, as she knelt there by the stream, doing her best to bid the water to move with subtle gestures of her hands, it was so disconcerting to hear cheerful humming coming from behind her. The little blob of crystal-clear liquid she’d pulled halfway from the depths abruptly collapsed, sending a nearby bright orange koi fish scurrying upstream. She turned around with a sour expression on her face to see another girl emerging from a garden path, brown-haired and dressed in emerald green and gold-rimmed white. This girl’s name, she vaguely recalled, was Jitra, she was about a year older than Katara and in the class above her.

Apparently oblivious to the irritable stare she was getting, the light-skinned girl took a seat on a nearby stone bench, adopted a very ladylike pose, and cracked open a book she’d been carrying under her arm, humming merrily all the while.

Do you mind? Some of us were here first and appreciate our quiet.

But, even as the tribal girl stood up to either tell the newcomer off or go find another secluded nook – she hadn’t quite decided which yet – the older girl stretched out her free hand and pulled three smooth stones right out of the stream, without ever rising from her seat. They levitated in small circles a few inches above her hand, the motions of three fingers sufficing to keep them absentmindedly rotating while she read.

“You’re an earthbender,” Katara breathed.

“Hmmm?” the other girl looked up from her book.

Hakoda’s daughter looked strangely at her. “You’re an earthbender,” she repeated. “Why do you sound so cheerful?”

“It’s a beautiful day, class is done, and I’ve got no homework and some time to kill before dinner,” she sounded puzzled. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Well… you’re an earthbender,” she said for a third time, reflexively checking over her shoulder to make sure no instructors or guards were nearby. “You’ve been stolen away to the Fire Nation. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“So, I’m away at school. So what?” she shrugged. “I’ll be going home for a few months soon anyway.”

Some of us aren’t that lucky.

“You’re still an earthbender.”

“Are you just going to keep saying that over and over again?” Jitra frowned slightly, and the stream stones’ endless dance speed up a fraction. “Yes, I’m an earthbender, and yes, I’m here in the Fire Nation. What’s the big deal? Going to good schools is just part of being nobility.”

“Good schools? You’re a prisoner in foreign indoctrination camp, and you’re treating it like it’s a vacation!”

“Look,” the girl slid a silk ribbon into the pages of her book, then closed it. “I’m enrolled in a fancy school on a tropical island, it’s a nice day, I’ve got a good book and some time on my hands, and I’d like to enjoy it. What do you even want from me?”

Some resentment. Some pushback. Some sign you aren’t just… just going along with this!

“Every child in my Water Tribe village was rocked to sleep with stories of the brave Earth Kingdom,” the darker girl said by way of explanation, “and the courageous earthbenders who guard its borders.”

Jitra actually burst out laughing.

“Spirits, you actually believed that?” the river stones she’d been levitating clattered off the stone bench as she pressed that hand into her chest, trying to contain her own chortles. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Earth Kingdom was three or four times the size of the Fire Nation at the start of all this, and it’s been losing the war for a century! The Earth King’s army outnumbered the Fire Army until recently, and what was the last big win? The capital just barely not getting overrun five years back?”

Katara was visibly taken aback. “Why are you laughing at the misfortune of your own homeland?” she demanded of the other girl.

“My homeland? No.” The earthbender shook her head. “My homeland is Jin He Valley. It’s a beautiful place. Tall, snow-capped peaks on either side, crystal-clear mountain streams flowing into the river, fields of golden wheat as far as the eye can see. It’s been in my family for generations.”

“It’s part of the Earth Kingdom. Your homeland.”

“Look,” she said, irritation visible in her olive green eyes. “If I just spell it out for you, will you leave me alone and let me read in peace? I’d rather not have to find a new spot. This one’s nice.”

Wordlessly, the waterbender nodded.

“Part of the Earth Kingdom,” Jitra shook her head and chuckled again. “That’s what the king’s bureaucrats said, when they came to collect gold or grain, or hand out draft quotas. Didn’t see much of them otherwise. All the warriors in the river valley were ones we raised ourselves. Still, we sent Ba Sing Se what it asked for. Six parts in ten of our harvest. Annual tribute of five thousand gold pieces and three times that much in silver. Five hundred men a year levied from our villages for the Earth Army, armed and armored, trained and equipped with spear or bow at local expense.” Her expression became dark. “A lot of those never came home.”

“Thanks to the Fire Nation,” the tribal girl interjected.

“I’m not finished.”

“I know. I just wanted it out there.”

“As I was saying,” she frowned a little, “that’s how it was for ninety-seven years of war. We never saw any conflict ourselves, but we felt the burden of it all the same. And then one summer’s day we got word from our scouts in the passes: an army was crossing the mountains, heading straight for us. At least three times the size of my family’s force, with tanks and cavalry and firebenders. We don’t have many earthbenders where I’m from. Our houses are wooden and surrounded by fields of wheat. Even a winning battle would have left our home in ashes, and we weren’t winning it.” The noble girl shook her head again. “So, we sent messengers in our swiftest boats down the river, to the nearest Earth Army garrisons and further on towards the capital.”

Katara watched as the other student’s face became visibly more embittered.

“And you know what the Earth King and all the armies of Ba Sing Se did?” the earthbender threw her arms out. “Nothing! After nearly a century of supporting the war effort, with taxes and harvests and warriors, when we actually needed them, they left us all to die!”

That sounds familiar, she thought briefly of her northern cousins.

“All the generals and commanders from the closest forts, they said we were too far removed from their strongpoints. Strategically indefensible. They offered us congratulations for our courage, and nothing else.” Her brow creased. “One our men did manage to reach the capital. Same answer from the general on the outer wall. He stayed in the Middle Ring for more than a month, until his funds ran dry, and he didn’t even get anywhere near an audience with the Earth King.”

Maybe the king had a lot on his plate, running a continental war, the tribal girl thought. Maybe there were just too many demands for his attention.

“And you know what else he told us when he got back from the city? It’s true what they say in class. The people of Ba Sing Se won’t even talk about the war. They just all pretend it’s not happening! He said some weird woman who wouldn’t stop smiling even told him if that if he brought it up to anyone within the walls, he’d have to ‘speak’ to the Dai Li. The Earth King’s henchmen threatened the servant of a vassal who’d been nothing but loyal, for asking for help!”

Fire Nation lies, Katara thought, reflexively. Or spin. Or… some kind of trick. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.

“So, what happened next?” she asked aloud.

“When the Fire Nation’s army arrived at the edge of our valley, their general sent a message to my father. Before there was any burning or bloodshed, they wanted a parley. So, they met up. You can imagine how surprised Dad was to hear what it was the firebenders actually wanted from us.” Jitra paused and looked the southerner in the eye. “Swear our allegiance to a different throne, send the same taxes and a bit less of our harvest down a different route, keep the peace within our own demesne, and send his firstborn overseas to be educated. That’s it. That’s the horrible fate we bled ninety-seven years to avoid.” She gave a hollow laugh. “In exchange, no one from Jin He Valley had to worry about the war anymore. No more levies, no more surprise draft notices for our subjects. Everyone was free to stay home and tend his family’s own fields, and from then on, the Fire Army would crush anyone who made a move against us.”

“And he said yes.”

“Of course he said yes! What kind of irresponsible idiot would say otherwise?”

And I thought earthbenders were supposed to be immovable.

“And that’s why I’m here, and I’m not fussed about it,” she finished. “It beats dying pointlessly for a king that doesn’t care about you or your home or your family.”

“So, you’d rather serve the king who’s been killing the people from your valley instead,” Hakoda’s daughter concluded.

“It’s not like we weren’t vassals anyway. You think the penalty for rebellion in the Earth Kingdom is any different from what it is here?” Jitra replied, the bitterness in her tone undisguised. “At least the Fire Lord does a king’s job in return for the tribute he takes. At least he’ll protect the people who are loyal to him.” Her nostrils flared once, and then she cracked open her book. “Now that you know the story, go away. I’m reading, and you’ve just about spoiled my good mood.”

What’s the Fire Lord’s personal whore doing here?  Katara asked herself.

Hakoda’s daughter had walked back to her apartment after another long day of “class” to find that it was already occupied. The unmistakable form of Princess Yue of the north, plus two waterbenders in identical uniforms to those she had seen aboard Azula’s ship, were waiting for her in the lounge area of her imposed dwelling. The two lackeys were standing with arms folded behind them against the opposite wall, while the princess herself was kneeling on a cushion. The moment the door swung open, the girl smiled and rose smoothly to her feet.

“Good afternoon, Katara,” Yue gave her southern kinswoman a respectful nod. “I had some free time today, and I thought since we were both chieftain’s daughters from the Water Tribe it might be good to start-”

“No,” Katara said immediately, pointedly refusing to return the gesture.

“…Pardon?” the future Fire Lady blinked.

“Are you deaf? I said no.”

“I haven’t even said what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I don’t care. Go away.” She deliberately turned her back on the intruder and her henchmen.

“Katara, peace between our two sides has been established.” Her voice became more insistent. “The North is assisting the South in rebuilding itself and has agreed to train any future waterbenders born among your people. Regular contact is being restored, and so it’s time to start thinking about how our peoples can build a new future toge-”

Katara rounded on Yue. “You call what you people did to us peace?!” she demanded. “You call forcing my father to bow down to you at the point of a sword peace?!”

Yue blinked. “I’d… call it at least the beginning of it. There’s no dishonor in submitting after being bested in fair combat.”

Nothing was “fair” about this war.

“I don’t know if you know our history, but peace within the Water Tribe was first forged when one clan chieftain – an ancestor of mine – was blessed by a vision from the great spirits of moon and ocean, and defeated or made deals with all the others, who submitted to him as the first Chieftain of the Water Tribe. Before that our people were nothing but a petty collection of tiny, lawless nomadic clans that fought one another endlessly, aimlessly. Afterwards, we became a great nation. Spearpoints were necessary for it. Peace is what follows when order is established, and that requires force. The only form of government without some kind of violent backing is, well, anarchy.”

“A ‘great nation’ doesn’t fall over itself to lick the boots of a place like this.”

“A great nation places its duty to its own people above all else,” the other girl frowned slightly. “Everything my family did was always for them.”

“Riiiight, your own people,” her voice was caustic and bitter. “Like, oh I don’t know, your sister tribe. We felt really well cared for the day Fire Nation raiders hit our village and murdered my mother searching for waterbenders while you all were busy cowering behind your ice wall.”

The snow-haired girl’s face visibly fell as she looked into the southerner’s eyes. “…That’s why you’re like this, isn’t it?”

“It might just have a little something to do with it.”

“That’s…” the northern princess closed her eyes, lowering her head. “That’s very sad. War exacts a high price on all involved – we’ve felt the pain of it too. I’m sorry for your loss. When I next return to our spirit oasis, I’ll lead prayers to Tui to grant her a speedy rebirth.”

No, you’re not sorry. You never cared about any of us any more than the rest of your tribe did.

“Yeah, well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t bring my mother back to life. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t undo what your tribe did only a few years later.”

“If Fire Lady Ilah had been Water Tribe herself,” Yue looked up and asked quietly, “do you think it would have happened that way? Or do you think peace could have been reached much earlier, and your mother’s life saved, had a voice who remembered the tribes’ people been the Fire Lord’s closest confidante?”

“Is that supposed to be your excuse for marrying him?”

“Who do you think convinced the Fire Nation that there was a way to safely handle waterbenders from your tribe, and that they didn’t need to hunt them in order to protect themselves? It was my father, and the reason they listened was because they trusted us. Because my engagement bound our future to theirs.”

“And I bet you’ve been reaping all sorts of rewards for that kind of trade. Bet you must feel really good about the price you got.”

“We have,” she replied, shamelessly and without hesitation. “And it’s an honor to be of service to my tribe in this. That’s what a princess is for.”

Katara eyed her up. “You don’t seem that torn up about it.”

“Well… no,” she said, a faint flush of pink on her cheeks as she touched the golden pendant around her neck. “He’s a good man. He’ll be a good husband.”

The southern girl’s nostrils flared.

Good men don’t rule here.

“What happened to your mother is tragic, and from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry,” the white-haired girl dipped her head, eyes closed, and held her silence.

Katara’s expression didn’t budge.

“But-”

“But what?!” Hakoda’s daughter snapped.

“But Lady Ursa was merely the wife of the second-born prince, the third in line, when the raids on the South took place. Fire Lord Zuko was just a child, not much older than you. No matter what you think of the way the war was fought, you surely can’t blame them for what happened to your mother.”

“Can’t I?”

“You know blood guilt isn’t the Water Tribe way.”

“Well, even if they didn’t give the order themselves,” she said, arms crossed, “they’ve kept right at the same pointless, cruel war. They’ve shown they’re no different from whoever did.”

“Fire Lord Azulon gave whatever order ended your mother’s life,” the northern princess explained. “All of the raids on your tribe occurred during his reign. And Fire Lord Azulon is dead. He has been for years. Raging against him is useless and will bring you neither closure nor peace.” The two girls looked one another in the eye. “…The Fire Nation does not hate the Water Tribes, Katara. Look at me,” she put a hand on her chest. “Am I not the best proof of that? The Fire Lord that follows Zuko will be of Water Tribe blood, carrying the blessings of the moon spirit. Our nations will be closer together than ever before.”

“You and your entire tribe are traitors,” Katara hissed through clenched teeth. “You hid behind your walls for more than eighty years, doing nothing as your own sister tribe was hunted to the edge of extinction! And then you sold us all out – sold the entire world out – for scraps from the Fire Nation’s table!”

Yue recoiled, eyes wide, hastily covering a partially opened mouth with one dainty-looking hand. The waterbenders behind her visibly tensed. But her shock only lasted a moment, and she quickly rallied into a fiercer expression.

“How dare you speak of my tribe that way?!” she hissed right back. “The Water Tribe’s first value has always been community – always! After the first years, my forefathers recognized a fight we couldn’t win, and prioritized protecting our people like it was their duty to do! Yours chose to bleed their own people to death in a futile war that wasn’t even theirs to begin with! They’re the ones who betrayed what it means to be Water Tribe!”

“Oh, I’m sorry we had the temerity to fight back! Were we just supposed to throw ourselves on the kindness of the Fire Nation?!”

“The kindness of the Fire Nation is the only reason there is a Southern Water Tribe!” Yue shouted at her. “Do you not understand that they could have destroyed you completely at any time for decades?! They could do it now, tomorrow! With barely the stroke of a brush, all that would be left of you would be barren snowbanks! They never wanted to do that – never!” Her expression settled slightly into a mild frown. “Katara, if you care at all about the truth, you have to acknowledge that the Fire Nation had mercy on you. They didn’t have to, they didn’t get anything out of it, but they did.”

“Well, isn’t that just wonderful of them,” Katara said venomously. “They only wanted to march down into our homes and take anyone who could possibly resist them. Our waterbenders, my mother, and now my brother and me. I should just feel so grateful that they didn’t stop to kill every last man, woman, and child along the way.”

“Your ancestors should have retreated from the war when it became clear they couldn’t win. Your chiefs should have preserved their tribe. Should have spared their people from the toil of war. It was always possible for them.” The northern princess shook her head. “Nothing could be less true to the Water Tribe’s essence than futilely sacrificing the actual community, the actual people around you on the altar of your own pride.”

“Our… our pride?!” Katara’s tone was aghast.

“What else would you call it?” the other girl’s expression became hard. “You couldn’t achieve anything by continuing to battle the Fire Navy, and you knew it. You were outnumbered by orders of magnitude and outmatched by centuries in naval technology. You could have come together as a tribe and healed your wounds in isolation. You could have negotiated for peace terms. The Fire Nation never wanted to occupy the poles. It still doesn’t. It would have accepted your surrender even then and left you to govern yourselves. You had options, and what you chose was to continue feeding the fire with the blood of the very people who trusted your chiefs to protect them. And you did it for no other reason than that you couldn’t accept your own defeat,” her thin nostrils flared slightly. “So don’t lecture me about treason.”

“You think we should have turned our backs on people who needed us, like you cowards did.”

“Whose needs did you even meet? You failed to accomplish anything of substance. And what of your people? What of their needs? Were they met when your ancestors harried the Fire Navy again and again, until Fire Lord Azulon unleashed his armies on you?”

“The south stood up for what was right. For justice, for peace, for balance.”

“What’s the point of your idea of balance?” the northerner looked genuinely mystified, “If it doesn’t first serve the good of your tribe? Whose good is it even intended for?”

“For everyone! For the entire world!”

“Be specific.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she frowned. “Be specific. You said it was for the whole world, but the Fire Nation is part of the world. So is the Northern Water Tribe, and you obviously hate us both. You seem entirely content with the idea of driving the Southern Water Tribe to extinction if it means spiting in the Fire Lord’s face, so that can’t be your priority, and I doubt you’re really concerned with the parts of the Earth Kingdom that have defected to our side. So that leaves… what? Ba Sing Se, and what lands and vassals it still has? Are they the only beneficiaries here?”

“And what would it matter if they were? Better them than you.”

“So, your idea of moral behavior is to sacrifice the actual people and community around you in the name of some abstract ideal not even intended to be in their best interests, for the hypothetical benefit of some hazy other you’ve never even met, in a city you’ve never seen, that does nothing to defend your people in turn and never even bothered to try?” Yue herself gave the other girl a disgusted look. “And you have the nerve to say we betrayed the Water Tribe way.”

“Turning your back on people who need you is never the right thing to do,” she held firm.

“You and you tribe are only human, Katara,” she shook her head slowly. “Only finite. You can’t right everything you think is wrong in the universe – you’ll do nothing but bleed yourself dry if you try. You have to learn to pick your battles. And those the spirits have placed closest to you have to come first.”

“Well, you can come up with as many excuses for cowardice and collaboration as you want,” the southerner crossed her arms. “It won’t make them anything else.”

“Your tribe surrendered in the end,” Yue pointed out, to which Katara visibly cringed. “And agreed to become vassals of the Fire Nation. You turned out to be willing to make the exact same sort of compromises in the end, just after getting many more of your people killed first. So, from where I’m standing, it looks like you bled yourselves dry in a pointless war that achieved nothing, and then threw yourselves on the Fire Nation’s mercy in the end anyway. Mercy which they showed.”

The southerner looked away, refusing to make eye contact with her kinswoman.

“So, you betrayed the deepest essence of what it means to be Water Tribe in a prideful, self-righteous crusade and got nothing for it, while we held true to our oldest and deepest principles of community and love for one another and because of that were in a position to bargain. Because of what we did, the next Fire Lord will be born of fire and water, blessed by Agni and Tui alike. That’s more balance for the world than anything your tribe ever achieved. So, whether we judged by Water Tribe metrics or used those devised in some fit of… midnight sun madness,” she shook her head, “my tribe was right, and yours was wrong.”

“…When you marry the Fire Lord,” the southern girl said in a low voice, “and look at his baby…”

His bastard.

“I hope you see the faces of every little girl and boy this war has left orphaned,” she said. “Hope you see what you and your tribe did nothing about, then supported. Make sure you tell your princeling up in your palace just what it was that mommy and daddy did to get to where they are.”

“Katara, you can believe whatever you want on how justified the war was when it began, but what’s done is done. It’s useless to dwell on things you can’t affect. The decision to go to war was made for us a hundred years ago, and neither I nor Zuko nor Lady Ursa can change the past. They came to power in the war’s ninety-fifth year, when hundreds of thousands of the Fire Nation’s men had already made the ultimate sacrifice to change the world, to bring this land to brink of victory,” she shook her head again. “Hundreds of thousands more have built new homes, new cities, new lives in the colonies dotting land long neglected by the Earth Kingdom’s capital. How many little ones do you think live there?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Answer the question,” the northern princess promptly shot back. “How many little Fire Nation colonial girls would lose their homes, lose their mothers, lose everything to the vengeance of Ba Sing Se if our nation lost the war tomorrow? Those colonials are loyal subjects looking for the Dragon Throne’s protection, and they would be expelled from the only homes they’ve ever known with nothing but the clothes on their back, or just killed en masse.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘your’ nation now?” the southern girl growled.

“When I marry Zuko on my sixteenth birthday, the Fire Nation will be my people just as much as the Water Tribe,” Yue declared, eyebrows creased. “I won’t betray them, any more than I would betray the Northern Water Tribe. I won’t betray him.” Her expression was unflinching.

“And then there are lands formerly of the Earth Kingdom now pledged to Fire Nation’s cause as well – with Tui knows how many little girls living there. You think the Earth King and his armies would simply leave such ‘traitors’ be if the war were suddenly lost? They’d face pogroms, expulsions, and massacres too. The Dragon Throne is responsible for the welfare of those subjects as well. A ruler’s first duty is always to protect and provide for his people.”

Katara’s eyes were so narrow that they were practically slits. “You disgust me,” she all but spat.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered, Katara, but the die is long since cast,” the other girl’s voice was resolute. “The honor of the dead and the future of the living alike are relying on the outcome. There’s nothing left to do but see this through to the inevitable end.”

“So that’s it, then?” Katara’s tone was one of mingled disbelief and outrage. “I’m just supposed to accept that my mother was murdered, my tribe was all but destroyed, and the entire world will be forced under the yoke of a tyrannical empire, but I should just smile and become a pretty little puppet for the Fire Lord to rule my tribe with just like you because the ghosts of dead murderers will be sad if the world isn’t-”

“You think if Lady Ursa, if Zuko, simply told their people that ‘Hey, you know how your friends, your family, your forefathers suffered and died bravely for our nation for a hundred years without complaint? It was all for nothing. They died for no reason and we’re giving up everything they ever worked for.’ that there wouldn’t be a response?” Yue cut her off with a dumbfounded expression on her face. “Katara, the best-case scenario would be the Fire Nation descending into a civil war.”

Good, something ugly inside Katara said.

“And what would most probably happen is the royal family would be overthrown for such an unthinkable betrayal of the entire nation’s century of sacrifice and replaced with someone else who would just pick the war right back up again. You would simply add more suffering and death to the mix, all to wind up right back where you started.” She shook her head. “Actually, no. Whoever won a vicious war of betrayal and fratricide like that would almost certainly be much harsher towards other peoples than my fiancé.”

Maybe if the Fire Nation bled enough, the rest of the world might have a chance, that same voice said, in a very unpleasant tone.

“So even if Zuko was so disgusting, so immoral as to betray the sacrifices his people have made for a century when they’ve put all their trust in him to see them through and leave millions of them exposed to the fury of vengeful enemies, it wouldn’t even accomplish what you want it to.”

“All I hear are excuses for why an absolute monarch can’t just order his troops home, tomorrow.”

“You don’t know anything about politics then. Absolute in law doesn’t mean absolute in practice. Loyalty is a two-way street, Katara. A leader who shows no concern for the past sacrifices or future welfare of his people can’t expect to be obeyed for long. A unilateral withdrawal would be an absolute betrayal of both. Whether you like it or not the only remaining acceptable way out – for Zuko’s people and for mine – is through.”

“You have ‘no choice’ but to finish conquering the Earth Kingdom and become empress of the whole world. For the sake of your people, of course.” The southerner rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that just so convenient?”

“Whether you think it was wrong or not, the war happened. Before you were born or I was born or Zuko was born. We don’t get a say in that. All we get to choose is what to do with the conflict we inherited.”

“So, end it!”

“That’s exactly what we are doing.” Yue put a hand on her chest. “My marriage is capstone of our nations’ peace agreement. The Fire Nation under Zuko and Lady Ursa is being more than reasonable in its terms. Anyone who wants to can surrender and expect honorable treatment. Exactly like your tribe did. If it’s such a horribly unthinkable way for the war to end, why did you already avail yourself of the option?”

“…Because we had no choice.”

“Then you should be able to relate, at least a little, to the position that we find ourselves in. You did what you thought was ultimately best for your people, even if you didn’t like every detail of everything that entailed. We’re doing the same.”

“It’s not the same,” she insisted. “It will never be the same.”

“And why’s that?”

“You know perfectly well why.”

There was a momentary pause, as two pairs of blue eyes stared one another down.

“…Did your mother die so that you could live to seek revenge in her name?” Yue asked in a softer, sad tone of voice. “Or did she die so that you could live?”

“How dare you ask me something lik-”

“Ask yourself then,” the other girl cut her off, face hardening into a determined mask. “If your mother were right here, right now, what would she want you to do? Would she tell you to let go of old hate, or to be consumed by it? Would she want the daughter she loved to do what’s best for her people and try to find what happiness she could in the new world, or to spend a lifetime wallowing in bitterness and pointless spite for a man already five years dead?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about what my mother would want you… you…” Katara’s fists were clenched so tightly that they were shaking, her breathing heavy and erratic. “You traitorous whore!” she lunged forward and screamed right into Yue’s face.

The two masked waterbenders immediately surged forward towards the southerner, each quickly seizing one of her limbs and pinning them behind her back as they pulled her away from their charge. She squirmed, uselessly, against their grip several times on the general principle of the thing, before settling down into a simmering, bitter stare. The whole time, the royal girl’s expression remained unmoved.

“She’s suffered much during this war,” the princess said, in an authoritative tone. “And we ought also to show leniency for her age. But blatant disrespect towards the monarchy still can’t go unpunished.” Yue shook her head once. “Let her cool her head in prison for one night, then release her back to the academy at this hour tomorrow. Let no record of her stay there be kept that could affect her in the future.”

“…I hate you,” Katara muttered, as the guards began leading her away.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Yue shook her head one final time. “Futilely chasing the grudges of the past or embracing the hope of a future, Katara. The choice is yours.”

“Katara, Princess Yue’s younger than me. They told us in class that she’s not even sixteen yet,” Sokka told his sister, one quiet, sunny afternoon from a bench in the academy’s garden. “You remember how young we were when Dad got that announcement. She was just a kid back then too, put into an arranged marriage with the Fire Lord. She never had a choice.”

“She could’ve chosen to hate him,” Katara said, standing beside a garden stream, attempting to push and pull the crystal-clear water with broad, sweeping motions. “Could’ve chosen to be as cold to him as her tribe was to ours.”

“And what good would that have done? For her tribe or ours?”

“Why are you defending the Fire Lord’s pet whore?”

“Katara!” Sokka snapped at her choice of words. “She’s a Water Tribe girl, and she was put into an impossible situation when she was just a kid. Cut her some slack.”

“I know you’re only saying that because you think she’s cute,” she didn’t bother looking back at her brother, continuing her rudimentary waterbending routine as best she could.

“N-No,” she could practically hear the blush in her sibling’s words. “No,” he cleared his throat, then sighed. “I just don’t know what you think blaming her for everything and screaming at her is supposed to accomplish.”

“…You’re just worried I put her off from showing up in your apartment one day, aren’t you?”

It was a tough call. On one hand, the potential for northern faithlessness getting the Fire Lord cuckolded. On the other, the potential for her brother tainting himself.

“Katara!” his tone was exasperated. “It’s not Yue’s fault we’re here! It’s not Yue’s fault she’s here! Stop treating her like she’s the man who killed Mom!”

There was a drawn-out moment of silence all around them, save only for the trickle of the stream and the obvious splashing of koi fish making their merry way along it.

“…I’ll treat her however I please,” Katara muttered, in a low, quiet voice. “And you can keep your opinions to yourself.”

“I’m only trying to help,” there was a faint undercurrent of pleading in her brother’s voice.

“I don’t need your help. And if this is what it sounds like, I don’t want it either.”

There came the sounds of footsteps on grass, and a dark-skinned hand appeared on her shoulder.

“I just don’t want my sister winding up in some Fire Nation dungeon because she snapped and attacked the Fire Lord’s fiancé in broad daylight,” Sokka said in an uncharacteristically gentle manner. “You’re all the family I’ve got here. I don’t want to lose you too.”

“…You don’t have to worry,” Katara shook her head. “That won’t happen.”

I’d wait until after dark to attack her. My bending’s stronger then.

“I’m…” he managed a weak smile. “Glad to hear it.”

Sokka released his grip, and there was another moment of silence between them. Katara went right on attempting to control the water in the stream in front of her, to use it for something other than the rudimentary healing Azula’s traitors had bequeathed her. And she kept doing that while her brother returned to his bench, right up until the moment when a familiar shadow passed right over her.

“Hi Katara!” came a bright and cheerful young voice, as a new pair of boots touched down on the grass. “Hi Sokka! How’s school treating you?”

“Aang!” the southern girl turned around and breathed. “Thank the spirits you’re alright! You’ve been up in that volcano lair of theirs for days!” She looked over the young Avatar as he approached, concern writ large in her blue eyes. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head. “I think it’s pretty obvious by this point that they don’t wanna do that. I’ve been sleeping in a palace guest room for the last couple of days.”

“Well, if they’re not doing that…” she put her hands on her hips. “It’s only because they have something worse in mind for you. Don’t believe for a second that it’s kindness or mercy.”

It can’t be, her mind insisted. The Fire Nation doesn’t know what those words mean.

“Katara, I’m living as a guest in their house. Not a prisoner.” He shook his head, and his expression became one of concern. “Why do you keep thinking the worst about everything they do?”

“Because I’ve seen the Fire Nation’s true face.” The tribal girl shook her head. “And I’ll never forget it.”

“…I know you’ve never seen an Air Nomad before, but they’re very wise people.” The Avatar began. “And one of the things that they taught me is that holding on to grudges is like drinking ratviper venom – you think you’re hurting your enemy, but you’re really only hurting yourself. Whatever issue you have with the Fire Nation, you should let it out…” he took a deep breath, then audibly exhaled. “And let it go.”

“Anyway, Aang,” Sokka interjected. “You’re supposed to be talking with the Fire Lord and that Ursa lady about ending the war, right? How’s that going?”

“Well, they’ve already agreed to end their conflict with the airbenders,” he said, in an optimistic tone.

That’s because the airbenders are extinct already. There’s no one left to fight but you. And they don’t seem to want to do that for some reason.

“And what about the war in the Earth Kingdom?” she asked skeptically.

“I’m…” he looked down, scratching the back of his head, “still working on that one. It’s a bit stickier for them to just pull out of there, but I’m sure we’ll find a way. Ursa, Zuko, Azula, Yue, they all mean well. They really do. They’re just… confused about what that really means.”

“No, they don’t. They’re evil, Aang. All of them. Rotten to the very depths of their shriveled black hearts.”

“Katara,” the boy frowned slightly. “How’s there ever supposed to be peace if this is the kind of attitude you take? If you can’t talk to the people on the other side because you won’t ever trust them, what’s left except fighting to the death? If you ever want the war in the Earth Kingdom to be over, somebody speaking for the Fire Nation’s gotta be involved in whatever settlement’s reached, right?”

“Dad talked to them,” Sokka pointed out.

“Because they left him no choice,” she countered.

“Remember what you told me onboard that wrecked ship? The war’s been going on for a hundred years. Did any of those people you met on the docks look a hundred years old to you? They didn’t ask to be born into a world at war.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Katara shook her head. “All that matters is that they’ve chosen to continue it. That proves they’re just as bad as everyone that came before them.”

“Well, what is it you want me to do, then, if not try and talk to them?!”

The southern girl looked quickly around to make certain they were alone and saw only tall trees and hedges in their vicinity. She leaned in close to be sure. “I told you before: master the elements, defeat the Fire Lady, and save the world!”

“The Fire Lady’s a forty-one-year-old woman who doesn’t even know how to fight,” Aang told her. “I don’t need to master any more elements than air to beat her down, but what good would that do? Hitting her in the face with an air blast wouldn’t make the Fire Nation’s army in the Earth Kingdom dissolve into mist. It’d just make her, and Zuko, and Azula hate me, and refuse to have anything to do with me at all! How would that help anyone?”

If you took her out, and her brats with her, the Fire Nation might just implode in on itself, a voice inside the tribal girl answered.

“I mean… he does kinda have a point,” her brother mused aloud.

“Sokka!”

“What? I’m just saying. Maybe their new generation might be more reasonable than the old one.” He rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “Don’t you think that’s at least worth a try, when the other option is one twelve-year-old kid with no experience trying to fight the entire Fire Army and Northern Water Tribe by himself? And besides,” here he looked a little sly himself, “they’re teaching him firebending right here. Aang here could probably sweet talk ‘em into coughing up some waterbending too,” he put an arm around the Avatar’s shoulder. “If it does come to a fight, it’d be pretty handy to know all their tricks already, don’t you think?”

“Yeah… learn all their tricks…” the boy scratched the back of his head and coughed a little awkwardly.

“And how much more of the Earth Kingdom will the Fire Nation gobble up while the Avatar’s just sitting up there in their palace, getting stalled and fed little bits of bending piecemeal?”

“Probably not more than they would while he was trying to find other people to teach him while being hunted by two nations and a pretty big chunk of a third. And who’d even teach him firebending while he was on the run? Or waterbending?”

“He’d find a way. I’m sure of it.” The waterbender’s blue eyes were almost pleading as they looked into the airbender’s grey. “Please, Aang, run away from here! Bring hope back to the people of the world! Hope for a future beyond the tyranny of this awful place! The world needs you! The world needs the Avatar!”

“…I’m sorry, Katara,” Aang shook his head slowly. “But I just don’t think that’s the right thing to do here.”

“Aang?” the Fire Lady said quietly, one sunny afternoon.

“Hmmm?” the boy looked up from the noodle art he’d been taking a break to work on, and the plate of fruit beside him.

“I… have a little something for you,” she told him, stepping out onto the balcony where the child was relaxing. “A present, of sorts.”

“Oooh, I like presents!” his grey eyes shone wild childlike anticipation as he rose to his feet. “What is it?”

“Bring it out,” Ursa told the two servants waiting behind her.

She stood aside, and two young men in the red robes of palace staff promptly emerged from the portal behind her. Between them both, they hefted a decorated brass cage as long as a man was tall, though thankfully the sheer size of the balcony door itself prevented that from becoming much of an issue. They laid down their charge before their liege and their guests with the practiced efficiency that characterized those of their position, before bowing gracefully out.

“Is that…” Aang’s eyes widened as he leaned forward and stared into the cage and its white-furred occupant, “a winged lemur?!”

“That it is,” Ursa nodded.

“Those don’t belong in cages!” he declared immediately and vehemently. “They need to be free to fly around!”

“By all means, then, let it out. I just didn’t want it to fly aw-”

The young Avatar had lunged forward already, hastily undoing the lock, and throwing the double doors wide open. The white-furred little thing promptly bounded right out, but instead of soaring onto the nearby roof or just taking to the skies as Ursa expected it might, it stopped only a few paces out of its cage, looking straight up at the Avatar with a curious expression in its bright green eyes. After a moment cocked its head slightly at him – a gesture which he promptly returned.

“That creature is more intelligent than I thought,” the regent said, looking on at the strange scene with a bemused smile. “It seems quite aware of what’s happening around it.”

“This lemur is a he,” the airbender corrected her, after scrutinizing the animal for just a moment.

“My apologies, then.” Ursa nodded slightly at the little thing. “He is more intelligent than I imagined.”

“You don’t know much about these animals, do you?” Aang asked.

“I’m afraid not,” she shook her head. “They’ve become quite rare in recent years, you see, but some agents of mine happened across this one recently. Apparently, it was rummaging around in their packs,” she told him with a wry smile. “And that made me think of you. Our archives suggest that those of your culture kept them as pets.”

“Sure do,” he nodded.

“Well, since providence bequeathed me with the opportunity, I thought you might appreciate it’s – his – company during your stay.”

“I’ve always wanted a pet lemur,” the child said in a cheerful tone, dropping to one knee in front the animal and extending one hand. It took a few cautious steps forward and sniffed his digits. “Would you like that? Would you like to hang out with out with me?”

As if in answer, the white-furred little creature ran straight up the airbender’s extended arm, crossed his shoulder, and clambered right up on top of his bald head. He promptly started sniffing that as well. Aang and Ursa shared a lighthearted chuckle, and the boy rose back to his feet. The winged lemur remained perched atop his cranium for several seconds, before abruptly leaping off and gliding over to the table where the child’s snacks and half-finished art project still resided.

“You hungry, little fellow?” the airbender smiled at the little primate, as it sniffed the fruit plate he himself had been munching on. “Go ahead and take what you want, I wasn’t going to eat all of it anyway.”

The winged lemur sniffed the assortment of fruits cautiously for just a moment longer, before grabbing a particularly juicy-looking moon peach from among the lot. He promptly shoved the sweet fruit into his face and began chomping on it with his tiny teeth, much to the young boy’s obvious childish delight.

“I think I’m gonna call you…” he put a hand on his chin, considered it a moment, and smiled broadly. “Momo!”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Zuko,” Yue said. “Please?”

“For the last time, no!” the young Fire Lord answered from across the room, several papers clutched in his hand. “I’m busy!”

“You’re not so busy you didn’t have time to go to the market with me the other day. Or the beach the week before that. You could make time to go to the premier if you really wanted to!”

“I don’t want to! Isn’t it enough Mom drags us all to watch them butcher Love Amongst the Dragons every year?”

“No!” Yue shook her head vehemently. “Art is an expression of life, of the soul, and the Ember Island Players always put their hearts into it. Your Mama is right to be so fond of them. And this is a play about her, and Azula, and you! How can you want to just skip the premier night when it’s right there? It’s just a few minutes across the city.”

“No one’s stopping you from going! Just leave me out of it!”

“But…” the snow-haired girl’s eyes fixed on his and her voice became soft, “it’s not the same without you.”

Zuko’s golden gaze wavered momentarily, then wandered down towards the paperwork in his hand.

“Why don’t you get Mom to go with you?” he asked, suddenly trying to become very absorbed in the details of projected annual port revenues for the next five years under various proposed taxation schemes. Domestic Affairs had been thorough in justifying its estimates, as usual. “She loves this sort of stuff. She’s the main character of the play. She’d be happy to make it a girl’s night with you.”

“Because I’m not marrying her. Think of how far I’ve come from my home just to be with you. Now you’re telling me you can’t go a few minutes down the road to be with me?”

“Yue…” the young king groaned, still avoiding eye contact. “You know that’s just not fair.”

“I’m a girl,” the princess answered. “I don’t have to be fair to you.”

“Now you sound like Azula. Did she tell you that?”

“Maaaaybe…” a slight grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, triggering another groan from her fiancé. “And, you know, Aang said he wanted to come and see it. Does the powerful Fire Lord really want to leave his poor defenseless nonbending bride all alone with the Avatar himself in attendance?”

“He’s twelve, and a pacifist. And you have guards.”

“That’s not the point, Zuko,” she gave a faint sigh.

“Then what is?”

“That there’s a once-in-a-lifetime premier of a play about the history of your family going on in Caldera City by an acting troupe I’ve liked for years, I don’t want to miss the special occasion, and I want a special someone to come with me.”

“You’re really talking this up,” the ruler sighed slightly himself. “Are the players slipping you something under the table to be their spokeswoman?”

Yue laughed a little at that. “As if they could afford me.”

“So, you are for sale,” the Fire Lord said in a faux-accusatory tone, looking up and cracking a smile.

“Zuko!” the northerner giggled, then threw a pillow from a nearby chair at him, which he reflexively ducked beneath. “How could you slander your own Fire Lady’s honor like that?!”

“It’s an insult if it’s true?” he asked, just a little playfully.

“Especially if it’s true!” she responded in a tone of haughty faux outrage, placing her hands on her hips. “I’ve just been insulted in the most grievous manner, and as royalty born, I demand satisfaction from the Fire Lord!”

“You do, do you?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “In compensation for such heinous slander of my person, reputation, and honor, I demand that Fire Lord Zuko accompany me to see the Ember Island Players at the premier of their new play, and that he have a good time!”

“And why should he see fit to grant this demand?” he met her haughty tone with one of his own. “When it’s clearly an onerous imposition on his extremely valuable time?”

“Because he doesn’t want his beloved princess to slink shamefully into the theater alone,” she answered. “He doesn’t want her to be disgraced in the eyes of the capital, thought unworthy of the Fire Lord’s accompaniment. He doesn’t want her sitting there in their box by herself, far from her polar home, weeping quietly for the neglect and loneliness of it.”

“Sounds like he’d have to be a really horrible person to do something like that.”

“Yes. Yes, he would.”

“…Maybe he is.”

“Zuko!” Yue laughed aloud again.

“What?” Zuko chuckled in tune with her.

“As Agni’s son, the Fire Lord must model virtue for his nation,” she declared. “Right?”

“…I guess,” he conceded with feigned reluctance.

“And that means he must treat his guests, let alone his fiancé, with the dignity and respect befitting of their stations, right?”

The dark-haired young man just let out a loan groan and shook his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the white-haired girl said. “And that means he must accompany his faithful princess to the theater and watch the play with her.”

“You make it sound like he doesn’t have a choice.”

“Not if he’d like to make his mother proud of him.”

“…Now you’re just really being unfair.”

“Come on Zuko,” she clasped her delicate, dark-skinned hands together in front of her chest and looked right at him. “Pleeease?”

Yue’s blue eyes were wide and dewy. The very picture of innocent pleading.

Agni above, the young Fire Lord thought, placing a hand on his forehead. As he did, as he stared down in silence, he felt a few drops of sweat starting to form up there.

“…Fine,” Zuko said after a moment, sighing heavily. “You win. I’ll go with you to this premier.”

In answer, the snow-haired princess took several light, bouncing steps forward and planted a kiss right on his lips.

“When you said that the Avatar was going to be attending,” the king hissed at his bride-to-be not too many days afterwards, “you didn’t mention it was going to be in our box!”

“Details,” the princess waved one hand dismissively, a cheeky smile touching her refined face, before turning her attention back to the stage. “Now be quiet please, it’s about to start.”

“Your girlfriend’s really into theater, huh?” the airbender leaned over and asked.

“My mom won’t stop encouraging her,” he replied with a longsuffering sigh. “It’s been like this ever since the first time on Ember Is-”

“Shhh!” Yue cut him off, one finger over her lips.

Just as she did, the lights all around the theater visibly dimmed. A few seconds later, the crimson curtains of the Dancing Dragon Theatre parted, revealing the facsimile of an elaborate study, with a lone man seated behind a desk.

“Lu Ten,” the figure began, in a heavy, sorrowful tone, “my nephew. You… are gone.” The actor portraying Prince Ozai gave a mournful sigh before rising to his feet. “Iroh… my brother, I know you better than any. Your heart will not be able to endure such a tragic blow.”

The tall performer, face heavily caked in makeup to accentuate his eyes and already prominent cheekbones, began pacing back and forth across the stage, his arms folded behind his back and a worried expression on his face.

“I fear my father will have no choice,” Ozai continued, after a moment’s silence. “My brother will not be able to resume his duties, his love for his lost son too great to bear the weight of the crown any longer.”

He stroked his goatee gave a long, melodramatic sigh before bowing his head. The audience before him began to whisper and point, as in through a simulated window crept another figure, this one shrouded in black and deep shades of green. The prince himself was oblivious, lost in his ruminations even while the mystery man ducked behind his own desk.

“I never wanted this,” the tall man said, continuing to stroke his long beard. “But it seems as though fate will leave me no choice. I must do my duty. If my father commands it, I must take up the burden of the throne. I must bear the heavy responsibility of guiding the Fire Nation to the fulfilment of the dream of my father, and his father before-”

The audience gasped as the masked assassin suddenly sprang into motion, plunging an overly large prop dagger straight into the prince’s exposed back. Ozai gave a loud, heart wrenching cry and collapsed onto his side, even while the perpetrator hurried back into the shadows from which he had emerged. The stricken royal appeared to struggle valiantly against his wound, red ribbons falling off his back and onto the stage, but to no avail. As he sank further and further onto the floor, he held out one weak, shaking hand, as if grasping for something that wasn’t there.

Beside Zuko, the northern princess gave an audible sniff.

As if on cue, a door towards the rear of the faux office opened, and another character appeared on stage. The newcomer was a tall woman, bordering on statuesque, and both fair and sharp of feature, seeming to exude poise and authority from the moment of her debut. Her long robes were flowing, ornate, and elaborate, though in comparison to the actor portraying her husband the makeup on her face was positively restrained.

“Ozai!” Ursa’s actress cried out, her voice clear and powerful even in the depths of her grief. She rushed to her husband’s side and grasped his hand. “My love! No!”

“…Ursa,” the prince managed in a feeble voice, his hand trembling in hers. “My love… please… listen to me…”

The princess nodded wordlessly, reaching down with her free hand to cradle the dying prince’s head in it.

“I don’t have long…” Ozai managed, staring up into his wife’s eyes. “I trust you… before all others. Please… you must promise me…”

“Anything!” Ursa declared immediately, bending over so he could put his hand on her cheek one last time.

“You must…” his voice continued to grow fainter, even while he cupped her face with the utmost of gentleness. “You must… take care of… our children… of Zuko… of Azula…”

“Of course!” she pressed one hand over his, holding it to her face as its strength threatened to give out. “I promise you I will!”

“You must…” Ozai’s actor wheezed. “Take care… of the… Fire…Nation…”

With that, the prince’s head slumped at last to the floor. His hand, stroking his wife’s face as its very last act, went limp in her grip. The princess gave a low, mournful sigh, closing her eyes and bowing her head. With great care, she placed her husband’s hand atop his chest, placing her own hand directly on top of it.

“Ozai, my love,” Ursa said after a few heartbeats of quiet, her tone the very picture of sad yet solemn resolution in spite of the circumstances. “My sun and stars. I swear to you, by Agni who gives life to the world and by the hallowed spirits of all your ancestors, that I will watch over all you spent your life loving. Our children will be my life. And, if the Fire Lord so wills it,” here there was a moment of pregnant silence, “then I will take up your place, and guide the Fire Nation in your name and that of our children, as you would have.” She laid one hand on his forehead, bending over to kiss him one last time. “Rest now and be at peace.”

A small number of quiet sobs could be heard throughout the theatre as the scene slowly faded to black with Ursa still kneeling over Ozai’s body, grief-stricken yet composed, dignified, and determined. To the end, she appeared the very model of a sturdy hearth-fire, guttering low yet refusing to go out.

“It didn’t happen like that,” Zuko muttered quietly to Aang, who was seated to the Fire Lord’s left. “Dad was already gone when she found him.”

“Shhh!” Yue whispered harshly from the young man’s opposite side, putting a finger to her lips with glistening tears still visible on her cheeks. “Some of us are trying to listen here! Nitpick things on your own time!”

Her fiancé sighed and shook his head, one hand on his forehead, but nonetheless sat back against his chair in compliant silence.

“And besides,” she murmured, while the scene before them was transitioning, “I’m sure your Papa would have said something like that, if he’d only had the chance.”

Rise of the Fire Lady was a long and involved piece of theatrical drama, and Aang, seated right beside the Fire Lord himself, got to experience all of it from the best possible vantage.

He watched as traitors within the Fire Nation, plotting to assassinate Ursa that they might use her precocious but vulnerable young son as a puppet for their own ambitions, hatched a murderous scheme in conjunction with Earth Kingdom spies.

He watched as the conspirators struck again and again, coming perilously close to the newly minted Fire Lady’s life each time before at last exploiting her love for her daughter by shooting an arrow at the young princess at the height of a sacred ritual.

He watched as Ursa, arrow still embedded in her flesh and her child at her side, was forced to face a master earthbender by herself, defeating him in a startling burst of brilliant white fire.

He watched as the young Princess Azula, inspired by her mother’s selfless heroism and the sheer strength her inner flame displayed in the process, developed flames the color of starlight.

He watched as young love sprang up between the dashing and intrepid young Fire Lord Zuko and a beautiful princess from the distant north (who was dressed in pink and white rather than the typical blue of her tribe from her very first scene, for whatever reason).

He watched as Ursa, moved by compassion for the ordinary people that formed the armies of the Earth Kingdom, did everything that lay in her power to enlighten its people, to disabuse them of the lies they had been told, and to bring as many as could be saved into the Fire Nation’s fold.

He watched as the Earth King, ensconced behind his towering walls and served by shadowy secret police of the Dai Li, carelessly ignored the plight of his own people, preferring to indulge in feasts and festivities, drugs and debaucheries while utterly forsaking even his most essential duties to his kingdom.

He watched as a young village girl, lied to about the fate that awaited her home by the retreating Earth Army, fled to seek refuge in Ba Sing Se, only to find all that awaited her was destitution in a walled-off slum, forced to sleep on the streets in the cold before ultimately vanishing into a pit of the Dai Li when she dared breathe a word of the war the Earth King did not wish to hear about.

And finally, he watched as the sky turned red with the return of Sozin’s Comet, and the walls of Ba Sing Se crumbled. The Earth King and his lackies and their secret police were swallowed up in a tide of fire, and though the masses of the city cowered in their meager dwellings, those were bypassed and left unharmed. That scene ended with the residents of the city, shocked and confused but curious and a little bit hopeful for the first time in living memory, cautiously approaching the soldiers of the Fire Army.

Throughout all of this, Zuko occasionally offered a word or two of correction, or clarification, regarding events to which he had personally been party, but each time was rapidly shushed by his annoyed fiancé.

The play’s final scene took place on a balcony overlooking Caldera City, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. Ursa stood atop it, Zuko and Azula by her side.

“Word has arrived from Ba Sing Se,” Zuko’s actor said. “The walls have fallen, and the tyrant of the Earth Kingdom is no more.”

“It is over, Mother,” Azula’s actress declared. “The last soldiers of the enemy have laid down their arms. The war is over.” She raised both her fists and clenched them. “We’ve done it!”

“Yes,” their mother replied, curling one fist herself, looking over at the dawn and smiling triumphantly, “we have done it!”

The Fire Lady rose several feet into the air, as a plinth suddenly appeared beneath her feet. The sun itself climbed in the sky, precisely in time with her ascent.

“At long last, the great dream of the Fire Nation is realized, and a golden age begins! For the world,” Ursa’s actress continued, throwing out both arms with a beneficent smile on her face, as a Fire Nation banner descended behind her from on high, “is ours!”

All throughout the theatre, audience members surged to their feet and the entire room echoed with the sounds of cheering, whistles, and wild applause. The residents of the Fire Nation’s capital roared their approval, while the actress on stage held her pose for almost half a minute before finally breaking character to give a deep bow, followed immediately by the actors portraying her children. The applause continued as more actors filed their way back onto the stage, bowing to the audience and receiving their due acclaim.

In the private box reserved for the actual royalty, Princess Yue had gotten to her feet with most of the remainder of the audience and was adding her own polite but vehement clapping to the general swelling of noise. Fire Lord Zuko himself had offered the hardworking troupe a brief bout of royal applause, then sunk back into his seat and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The Avatar, for his part, had slumped back in his chair, one finger on his temple and a downcast, somewhat pensive expression on his face.

“Woooooo!” a broad grin was etched across the young airbender’s face as he leapt from the trapeze. He caught himself on the next one with both hands, supplementing the formidable force of his own moment by kicking out with both feet, unleashing a burst of air so powerful it sent the entire swinging bar to which he clung spinning in a full upside-down loop, bald boy and all. He flung himself free near the climax of the arc and caught himself on a long, taut tightrope, spinning round and round over top of it but never seeming at any risk of falling to the net below.

Not bad, Ty Lee thought to herself from where she balanced one-handed on a different tightrope. Aang really is a natural.

It had been something of a surprise when Azula had shown up at the circus encamped not too far from Shan Zhi Ghen at Caldera’s base in person, not for a nighttime show but just during midday when rehearsals were still ongoing. It had been even more of a surprise that the Avatar was accompanying her. But her old friend had said their guest had liked her routine and would appreciate the chance to see more of it. A mere circus acrobat could hardly refuse the nation’s princess and the most powerful bender in the world the right to sit and watch while she went through practice routines she was going to do anyway. But then the airbender seemed not content just to sit back and watch, one thing led to another, and now she wasn’t entirely sure if she was the performer or the audience.

Even while she watched, the young Avatar launched himself from one tightrope to the other. The table beneath her hand trembled momentarily for the extra weight, but not nearly enough to disturb her balance. Aang himself landed on both feet, but immediately started to frantically pinwheel his arms as he threatened to pitch first forward, then backwards off the tightrope as he overcorrected. The noble turned circus star thought for a moment that she might witness the child’s first fall, but he twisted his waist, stuck one arm out and downwards on either side of him, and let loose several short bursts of air in rapid succession. It took him a few seconds to truly level himself out, but in the absence of anything at all to hold on to, she had to admit that the trick looked pretty helpful.

Once Aang was properly balanced atop her tightrope, both feet narrowly aligned with the taut steel cable, he turned fully to face her and gave another variation of his trademark cheerful grin.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” he said in an optimistic tone.

“You sure are,” she nodded, despite her head still being upside down. “And quickly too. Can’t help but think you’ve got a bit of an unfair advantage though.”

“You mean the airbending?”

“Mm-hmm. It seems as good for doing tricks as it is for fighting,” she observed.

“Airbending’s about freedom, not fighting,” the bald child shook his head.

Ty Lee raised, or rather lowered, an eyebrow at him before turning herself about and contorting until she was in a position to sit, cross-legged, directly atop the tightrope.

“Whaddya mean by that?” she asked him while he took a couple of unsteady steps on the rope in her direction, arms held out to either side. “All bending’s based on martial arts, isn’t it?”

“The Air Nomads don’t think of it that way. You guys here have some weird idea that we have an army or something, or had one a long time ago, but that’s not true. Our bending techniques are always about helping us to learn to let go worldly attachments so our spirits can be free to soar – well, that and having fun,” he grinned over at her, stumbled a bit, but caught himself by pinwheeling his arms. “Even the fighting techniques we do teach are all about defense, redirection, evasion. Preserving life, not hurting people.”

“Fighting without hurting people, huh?” the acrobat put a hand on her chin and looked thoughtful. “I guess that’s not so different from chi-blocking.”

“What’s chi-blocking?”

“Basically, I hit people with a quick jab in just the right spot, and their chi stops up for a while,” she explained. “Hit them in one place and they can’t bend. Hit them in another and their limbs go all floopy for a bit.”

“So, you just… poke people, and they stop fighting? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Ty Lee nodded. “I’d do a demonstration, but way up here you’d just fall off,” she giggled. “So just take my word for it.”

“And it doesn’t do any permanent harm?”

“None,” she shook her head. “You get some bruises when you fall, I guess, but other than that the effects will just wear off after a few hours.”

“Whoa…” his eyes had widened a bit. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Oh, a bit at home, a bit in school,” the performer shrugged. “It’s not like a super popular martial art or anything these days, but the Royal Fire Academy For Girls has really good records and stuff. You can find out about almost any fighting technique there if you look hard enough or ask around.”

“So… chi-blocking’s what it’s called?” Aang asked.

“Mmm hmm,” Ty Lee nodded.

The young monk sat down next to her looked contemplative for a moment. “If what you wanted was to be a circus performer, why’d you learn to fight like that?” he eventually asked, kicking his legs beneath the tightrope. “They don’t make girls learn to fight here, do they?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But it just sorta… spoke to me, you know? Sometimes you don’t really know why you want to do something, but you still… kinda just gotta go along with it.” The acrobat offered another shrug. “Go with the flow and all.”

“Yeah… go with the flow,” he looked at her in a funny way, then smiled again. She wondered briefly what that was about. “I think I get where you’re coming from. If you’ve gotta fight, that’s about as good a way to do it as there is.”

“Azula was always more into fire, and Mai into throwing knives but… yeah, I think so too,” the acrobat confessed, looking down a little. “No burning, and no blood.”

A high-class Fire Nation girl wasn’t supposed to look away during Agni Kais, but the truth was she preferred to do so, if possible. It wasn’t that she necessarily minded fighting or winning, she might even enjoy a good display of hand-to-hand skill, but certain styles just sometimes got too…icky for her liking. She knew why such fire duels had to happen, of course, knew why Agni had provided a means for firebenders to resolve intractable disputes amongst themselves quickly and decisively, with minimal damage, but… the sight and smell of searing flesh that signaled first burn, signaled the victor, still made her a bit queasy. It was shameful to admit, but it was true. Just one more reason she liked being in the circus more than being a noble girl.

“Yeah, I totally get that feeling,” Aang nodded sympathetically.

“That’s nice to hear,” she smiled a little over at him. “Some people just don’t.” She sighed. “Might just part of being a firebender, I guess.”

“It’d be nice if it wasn’t…” the boy beside her looked down at his dangling boots.

“I mean, maybe, but what are you gonna do about it? People are different, meant for different things, and there’s no point getting a dingy aura about it,” the girl shrugged again, resuming her usual cheerful expression. “Like I said before, sometimes you just gotta go with the flow.”

“Hey…” Aang put a hand behind his head and looked a little awkwardly over at her. “While I’m staying here… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you mind… maybe teaching me something of your style sometime?”

“You mean circus acrobatics? I mean, I probably could, but you’d have to stop using airbending like you’re doing. The show’s way less exciting for the audience if it doesn’t even look like you could fall.”

“Well, that sounds pretty fun, but I was actually thinking of chi-blocking.”

Ty Lee blinked. “The Avatar wants to learn to chi-block?” She cocked her head at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be more into bending all four elements?”

“I mean… yeah… but,” he scratched the back of his head, “If I ever do have to fight, I think it’d be handy to know. I may be the Avatar, but I don’t really want to use bending to hurt anybody, you know? I’d much rather poke somebody and have them fall over than throw fire or boulders or ice spikes at them. It just feels more…” Aang gave Ty Lee a peculiar sort of side-eye, “Air Nomad.”

“Well, I mean…” the young woman put a hand to her chin and considered it. “It’s not like you’re bad company, or I don’t have free time between shows and all… but you are Azula’s guest. I think it’d probably be good to make sure she wouldn’t have a problem with you coming… around…”

Ty Lee’s voice trailed off as her grey eyes swept over the tent and saw that the stands far below the two of them were totally empty. The princess was nowhere to be seen.

Huh, the acrobat thought, weird.

He wasn’t going to do anything. The Avatar, the one in whom she’d pinned all her hopes since she was a little girl, the one whom she’d always believed would one day return and save the world, really wasn’t going to do anything. He was just going to let the deceitful ashmakers keep him away from his destiny until they simply overran the world completely.

Kneeling alone in the academy compound’s garden beside a flowing stream, the waters shimmering with the reflected light of a multitude of stars and a moon that was almost full as she coaxed them with the fingers of one hand, Katara reflected bitterly on the sheer unfairness of it all. Once again, she’d watched, powerless, as the Fire Nation had ripped away something she’d long held close to her heart. First it had been Mom, an innocent woman senselessly murdered in the name of their cruelty and greed. Now it was her hope itself that was being stolen away, her childhood belief that one day, somehow, the great spirit of the world would return to them and set everything to right somehow. And, once again, the tribal girl seemed helpless to do anything but look on and weep.

Well, she thought, not this time.

Not all the clear waters of the stream were flowing. Some, as Hakoda’s daughter gestured with one hand, had halted in place, an unnatural bubble of calm amidst the endless motion. When she curled her fingers and made as if to pull, portions of the liquid rose from the surface in awkward and irregular, yet mostly steady, bulges. And when she focused her mind’s eye on the bitter windstorms and howling blizzards that characterized the long, sunless months of polar winter, a visible chill spread across it to a faint but audible sound of scraping ice.

San Ku and the other northerners might have scoffed at the mere idea of teaching a woman combative waterbending, but that prejudice did mean that they weren’t especially careful to avoid practicing on deck when she was nearby. She’d born witness to some of the movements the traitors used in service to their masters. One such technique in particular was currently of great interest to her.

And at least some good could be derived from that insulting flash of healer’s training she’d had aboard Azula’s ship: she knew right where all the vitals were. Everything else too.

Getting out here alone at night hadn’t been difficult at all. As far as Matron Zin or any of assigned attendants were concerned, Katara was a noble girl, and entitled to do as she wished on campus with her own time outside of school hours. If she wanted to take a lone moonlit stroll through the gardens of her prison after her supper, then she was perfectly free to do so. Even if someone had caught her in the act, bending within the confines of the greenery was perfectly permissible, as long as no damage was inflicted to the gardens themselves.

Under the light of the moon and stars, copying the same techniques she’d seen the traitor waterbenders use while practicing with water drawn from the ocean, Katara haltingly, awkwardly, caused the water of the garden stream to slowly solidify. Then liquify. Then solidify again. Then liquify. Back and forth, back and forth, each time shaping the final result just a little closer to her end goal. For how long exactly she kept at it the chieftain’s daughter did not know, only that this represented perhaps her last hope. Represented the world’s last hope. She had to keep going, had to get it right. She simply had to.

However long it took her, eventually her dark hand ceased its incessant motion and laid down to rest against her lap, leaving her to look over her handiwork. Lent an almost ethereal aspect by the moon’s pale glow, the ice had at long last formed into a hand-length spike, complete with razor-sharp tip. A slight gleam appeared in the young waterbender’s eyes as she stared down at her creation.

If the Avatar refused to do his job, then perhaps someone else would have to.

“Okay, so…” Zuko said, suppressing a sigh. “So, we’re agreed: five rows of four long tables, there, there, there-”

“Fountains there,” Yue interjected, pointing at a spot on the scroll he was holding, corresponding to a section of the open courtyard both were standing in. “The waterbenders will need room to work if we don’t want the guests getting soaked.”

“If your highness insists on a traditional northern performance, then it would be wise to account for that when hanging the lanterns,” one of the elderly twins, Zuko had never been able to tell which was Lo and which Li with the way they chose to dress and act, pointed out.

“They can only be raised so high,” her sister added, rather unnecessarily in his opinion.

“Speaking of,” Naozumi, the wedding coordinator for at least this immediate area, chose that moment to speak up as well. “My lord and lady, you’ve yet to inform me of whether you prefer the lanterns to be paper or silk, and as so many need to be procured it would be prudent to come to a decision as soon as possible.”

“I still say silk is the obvious choice,” the snow-haired princess muttered. “So much nicer to look at.”

“We’re already spending a fortune on this, and you want to pour out even more gold pieces on hundreds of lanterns not a single guest will ever see up close, much less touch?” her fiancé shook his head. “Paper’s more than fine.”

“I still can’t believe you’re trying to find ways to cheap out on your own wedding!” she shook her head right back. “This is the most important event my tribe has seen in a century, and probably the most important the world will see for a century to come! It deserves the very best – and it’s not like you’re anything close to poor!”

“Just because you have the money doesn’t mean you have to spend it for no good reason.”

“No good reason?!” she put a hand on her hip, sighed, and looked put out. “Alright, Mr. Miser Lord, if making everything perfect for your own special day isn’t a good enough reason for you, then consider this: there’s going to be a lot of important dignitaries coming in and through here. Plenty of them will be from regions in the Earth Kingdom relatively new to our cause, some with friends and relatives still on the other side. An impressive display of the throne’s wealth, power, and grandeur will help cement their loyalty going forward, by showing them that they picked the winning side. People love a winner.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be scrutinizing the lanterns really closely to decide if they should go running back to Ba Sing Se or not.” Zuko rolled his eyes. “On the one hand, I’ll be going back to the losing side of a hundred-year war and probably just get executed for my original treason anyway, on the other, the Fire Lord had paper lanterns. Real tough call.”

“You’re just… impossible sometimes, you know that?” Yue crossed her arms and gave a little pout, which he honestly thought made her look cute.

“But you love me for it,” he grinned a little roguishly at his bride-to-be.

“You… you…” the northern princess stamped her foot and made a face at him. “You’re just- urgh!”

Yue abruptly staggered forward several steps, clutching at her chest and looking for just a moment as if she might topple over altogether. Zuko was at her side before even her own guards could reach her, wrapping his hands firmly around either side of her and steadying her swaying form.

“Are you alright?” he asked, urgently, while she took several deep breaths in rapid succession.

“I feel…” she panted once before straightening up, a bead of sweat glistening on her forehead. “I feel… I felt faint. Like something just came over me.”

“Do you need a physician? A waterbending healer?”

“No…” she shook her head, closing her eyes and bowing her head slightly. “No… it’s not that. I don’t think it’s… physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s…” she grimaced, putting two fingers against her temple. “There’s a powerful spiritual presence manifesting. Not far from here.”

“What?!” Zuko’s eyes widened as he released her. “How do you know?”

“I don’t know, I just…” the princess shook her head, before looking up and over at her fiancé. “Know.”

“Well… where’s it coming from then?” the young king asked. “Can you tell?”

“It’s coming from… it’s coming from…” Yue took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and massaged her temple with those same two fingers. For a moment she was still, and then she abruptly spun on her heels and pointed, eyes still squeezed shut. “Right there!”

The moon child’s thin, dark finger was leveled directly at the distant, looming silhouette of the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace.

Mom! Zuko’s eyes widened still further.

Beside him, Yue opened her eyes, blinked, then gasped.

“Lady Ursa,” she breathed.

“Let’s go!” the Fire Lord ordered their entourage, in a tone that brooked no disobedience. “Now!”

It happened so suddenly.       

It was the day of the winter solstice. Fire Lady Ursa was in the office she’d inherited from Azulon, pouring over some frankly rather mundane reports from Royal Archivist Tse Zin describing her spy network’s efforts to ensure the coming influx of domestic and foreign wedding guests would be kept under appropriate surveillance and any suspicious characters among them quietly removed or detained, as appropriate. Caldera would be admitting far more visitors than it usually did, after all, and precautions had to be taken to ensure that no one sought to take advantage of the happy occasion to get their hands on sensitive materials while the Domestic Forces and Royal Procession were largely preoccupied elsewhere. She was interrupted in the middle of her reading by an unexpected rapping on the heavy door, which opened just enough for an Imperial Firebender to be partially visible.

“Avatar Aang to see you, your majesty,” the bodyguard said in a cool, neutral tone.

Isn’t he supposed to be down the mountain about now, spending more time with Azula and her friend?

“He is free to come in,” she nodded, face showing nothing of her puzzlement.

The door swung open, and the young bald child stepped through, a white winged lemur perched atop his shoulder. He took several steps inside and looked around at the well-stocked shelves, priceless artwork, and the family portraits lining the wall. As the regent set her sheets of paper aside, she noticed that, strangely enough, the airbender looked a little confused himself.

“Aang,” she began in a gentle tone, “why are you here? Weren’t you planning to spend the afternoon with my daughter and her friend?”

“I’m…” the Avatar looked at his palm, then the back of his hand, scarcely seeming to notice when Momo leapt down from his shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

Ursa blinked. “What do you mean you’re not sure? Is something wrong, child?” She frowned a little in concern. “Do you need a checkup from one of our healers?”

“No,” Aang shook his head, taking a step forward, towards where beams of sunlight poured in from the windows behind the Fire Lord’s desk. “Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he shook his head. “I just had this really strong urge all of a sudden. It was like… something inside of me was telling me that I had to come here and talk to you. Right now.”

“Talk to me about what, Aang?”

Don’t tell me he’s had thoughts of flying to Ba Sing Se himself again, she sighed mentally. A child like this, in that snake pit? Like as not we’d never see him again.

“I’m… not sure,” he admitted after a moment’s pause, grey eyes briefly tracking his pet as the little creature sniffed curiously at a dusty old astrological almanac. Momo sneezed, and the Avatar and Fire Lady shared a brief chuckle. “I just had this feeling that I really needed to do it for whatever reason.”

“I’m more than willing to make time for you,” she told him. “But I’d appreciate it if I knew what it was that was that was so urgent.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered her a helpless shrug, “I really just don’t know.”

“Very well then,” Ursa said after a slight pause, folding her hands together atop the desk. “While you try and see if anything comes to mind, have you decided on whether you’d like to accept my offer to attend the Royal Fire Academy For Boys yet?” she asked politely. “And yes, you would still have still have to wear the uniform. Even royal children do.”

“No,” Aang shook his head and smiled a little, “not yet.”

“I see,” she gave him a slightly disappointed sigh, then tapped on her desk. “Well, while you mull it over, why don’t you pull up a chair and have a seat over here rather than continuing to lurk in the shadows?”

“Okay, sure,” the boy’s smile broadened somewhat, and he grabbed one of the sitting chairs and pulled it in the ruler’s direction.

The moment the Avatar stepped fully into the sunlight, everything changed.

Without any warning at all, Aang’s eyes and the arrow atop his head lit up with a blinding white light of their own. Ursa’s own eyes went wide as saucers and she flinched back into her thronelike chair, as the boy’s head jerked with an unnatural suddenness to bring his glowing white eyes into direct contact with her amber ones. The Fire Lady felt momentarily small and faint, as though she were an insect caught in the path of a tropical hurricane, and then a wrenching feeling hit her right in the gut. She doubled over, instinctively attempting to appear small but simultaneously unable to tear her gaze from whatever great and terrible thing was staring back out at her from within this child.

The boy, the office, and indeed the whole world around her abruptly dissolved into billowing clouds of pale mist, which ebbed and flowed in a great mass about her. She felt no wind, but the fog whipped all about her in the manner of a fierce tornado. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the mist dispersed. The noblewoman found herself standing, rather than seated, amidst the craggy peaks of a strangely tinted mountain range. Traces of mist pooled at her feet, and the air all around her felt thick and heavy, but she scarcely noticed. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, to the lone figure that now stood opposite her.

Ursa had never seen this older, yet powerful-looking and deeply dignified man before in her life, but she had seen his portrait in her childhood home. Even if she hadn’t, something inside her seemed to recognize him on an instinctual level.

“…Grandfather?” she breathed, voice scarcely rising above a whisper.

“Ursa,” Avatar Roku replied, his own words soft but somehow clear as crystal. His amber eyes, so close in color to her own, scrutinized her momentarily. A brief echo of a fond smile touched his lips.

“…You look so much like her, child.”

“Like whom?”

“The love of my life,” the old Avatar answered.

“Grandmother Ta Min, you mean.”

He nodded once. Almost in spite of herself, Ursa found herself returning the fondness of his smile, at least for a moment. Logic, however, butted its unwelcome way in.

“How can this be?” she asked. “How are you here?”

“On the solstice, when the spirit and physical worlds are at their closest, it can become possible to manifest a vision in the vicinity of things tied strongly to a spirit’s mortal lifetime,” her ancestor explained.

“Like… their reincarnation in the presence of their closest living descendant,” she said slowly.

The Avatar nodded.

“Then why? Why are you here?”

“…Do you know how I died, Ursa?”

“Yes,” she blinked. “Why would that be important right now, though? There is no familial debt of honor owed because of it.” A sudden thought struck her. “Is there some rite you wish me to perform for your spirit?”

“Please,” Roku said, in a gentle but firm tone. “Recount what you know for me.”

“…As you wish, grandfather,” the puzzled regent nodded once. “When I was little, Father told me the story that Grandmother told him. That, the night you fell battling the eruptions, the only one to come to your aid was Fire Lord Sozin, in spite of all your prior disagreements. That he and you fought the forces of nature side by side, long enough for the entire island’s population to escape onto the waves.” Ursa’s face fell a little. “But the strain of the battle, and your age, took their toll. When a sudden burst of poisonous volcanic fumes enveloped you, you perished in an instant, a hero to the last. The fierceness of the eruption forced the Fire Lord to retreat without time to retrieve your body, lest he too fall. He would visit Grandmother later, on Ember Island, to recount the story and express his condolences.”

“Yes…” the Avatar nodded slowly. “Yes, that is more or less what I expected you would say.”

“Why… Why wouldn’t it be? That’s the story, isn’t it?”

“…You have been lied to your whole life, child.”

“What?” she cocked her head at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Sozin lied about what happened that night,” her grandfather said in a clear, authoritative tone, “first to my wife, then to my son, and from beyond the grave to you.”

“He…” Ursa blinked, her mouth slightly agape. “What?”

As if in answer, the mists at their feet surged up again, swirling around the regent and her grandfather in a powerful maelstrom, before just as suddenly dispersing. The oddly tinted mountain range that had surrounded the two was gone. In its place was a dark, mountainous Fire Nation slope. Though the scene before her was set at night, the glow of lava seeming to ooze from every crack in the buckling earth lit it with an eerie red-orange backdrop. Even as she watched, fresh rents appeared on the volcano at seeming random, spewing noxious grey plumes of ash and volcanic fumes.

“Don’t breathe the toxic gas!” Ursa heard her grandfather’s voice, though Roku now stood directly by her side.

Looking upwards, the Fire Lady saw the previous Avatar running down the slopes with another, equally aged man by his side. She needed no family lore to recognize Fire Lord Sozin’s face, or the same crown atop his head that now rested upon hers.

The Avatar and the Fire Lord were racing down the mountain even as it bucked and churned, spewing ever more copious quantities of ash, gas, and molten rock. The regent watched her grandfather disperse several such random sprays of choking gas with quick bursts of airbending, protecting himself and the man beside him as they fled nature’s apocalypse. For a moment, it looked like they might just manage to escape, might manage to make it to the flotilla of small boats she could just make out bearing the island’s population to safety in a distant bay. But then the inevitable happened.

It almost seemed like an anticlimax – a poor way for a figure as significant as the Avatar to perish. Yet another vent of toxic volcanic fumes burst from the earth, this time at her grandfather’s feet. The vision of Roku staggered as a choking grey cloud enveloped him completely, giving him several lungfuls of poisonous volcanic air. The white-haired man coughed and hacked, visibly struggling to stay upright.

“I-It’s too much,” he managed in between wheezes and gasps, looking briefly down at his trembling hands, and then collapsing first to one knee, then both.

Ursa’s grandfather looked up at Sozin, who stood nearby, watching as his old friend continued to cough and choke, covering his own face with one arm.

“Please…” the vision of Roku managed, looking up at his old friend, holding up one trembling hand.

“Without you,” the image of Sozin said in a slow, terrible voice, “all my plans are suddenly possible.”

Ursa gasped.

“I have a vision for the future, Roku,” the old Fire Lord continued, as the granddaughter of the man he was betraying looked on with wide eyes.

Sozin turned away from the dying Avatar as a blue dragon swooped in behind him. The fierce beast regarded both its master and the world spirit’s incarnation but did nothing as the Fire Nation’s ruler climbed atop its back. From atop his mount, Sozin’s gaze fell on his old friend one last time. Roku stared back, fury in his eyes, even as hacking coughs continued to wrack his trembling form. At last, the king nudged his dragon’s flank, and without another word took to the skies, abandoning the other old man to his fate.

Roku’s own faithful red dragon arrived overhead shortly thereafter, but too late. The pyroclastic flow had begun, and his master had already taken in too much toxic volcanic air to have any hope of survival, even had it plucked him up its own claws right at that moment. The dragon seemed to know this on some level and chose instead to encircle the Avatar in his dying moments, to be buried together beneath the oncoming tide of superheated ash and rock. The Fire Lady watched, transfixed, as the two of them were engulfed by the pyroclastic flow, the only mercy that their deaths were doubtless instantaneous.

“Such is the root of a hundred years of war,” Roku spoke from beside Ursa. “Lies, betrayal, and the murder of an old friend.” He sighed heavily as the volcanic vision around them dissolved, replaced again by the tinted, misty mountains. “And yet, I cannot wholly evade responsibility. Had I been more decisive, had I acted sooner, I could have seen this war coming, and prevented it. I failed, either to persuade Sozin away from his path or to remove him.”

His granddaughter stared at him, a slight sheen of sweat on her face and one quivering hand over her mouth.

“For whatever it is worth,” Roku looked mournfully at his descendant, “I am sorry that it has been left to you and Aang to bear the consequences of my mistakes and failures.”

“Y-You show me this,” she managed to reply, taking in a gulp of air, “why?”

“So that you may know how badly you have been deceived,” he replied. “So that you may see the truth of the ‘righteous’ cause you’ve been raised to believe in. And so that you may bring this terrible war to a long overdue end.”

“But…” she frowned a little, “even if what you’ve shown me is true, why would I do that?”

Roku’s eyes widened.

“Your death… it was a hundred and twelve years ago,” she continued. “Sozin is long dead himself. I cannot avenge it. This war is much bigger than one man.”

“You fool,” the old man said sharply.

“What?” she lowered her hand, frown deepening.

“Do you think that a war begun in such a lie has ever been honest about itself?” he demanded. “Do you believe that a project founded on such a betrayal has ever had good intentions?” There was real anger now in her grandfather’s voice, as the mist around them rose up again. “I know what it is they taught you in your schools, the lies of an Air Nomad Army. Sozin lied about that as he lied about my death. Witness now the truth.”

The mists parted, and Ursa and Roku stood in the midst of a wide, smooth white stone hallway. Paintings of strange, stylized versions of bald monks and creatures she recognized as kin to Appa decorated the walls in between open window slits. Outside it was obviously nighttime, but the sky was red. A great fiery orb burned clearly amidst the heavens, and even as mere spiritual echo the firebender could feel the sheer power it emanated in the quickness of her pulse, the heat in her chest, the fire in her veins.

The fire, though, wasn’t just in her blood. The fire was everywhere.

“You have to get out of here!” a trembling voice shouted about the roar of flames and the distant sound of screaming.

A path through the inferno all around them suddenly opened up, as a powerful gust of wind cut through the surging flames. An older, bearded man with a blue arrow tattoo much like that on Aang’s head appeared, and with him a group of a few terrified-looking shaven-head children, most around the young Avatar’s age.

“Grab the spare gliders and fly!” the old airbender cried at his charges. “Fly! Fly as far and as fast as you can! Don’t come back here for anything!”

“B-B-But Monk Sizho-”

“Fly!” he barked at the wailing child, in a voice that brooked no opposition. “I’ll hold them off for you as long as-”

The old monk’s words were cut off as the wall behind him exploded.

The children screamed in terror as the shockwave hurled them and their guardian about like they were leaves in a hurricane. The older man, as the closest to the source, took the hit the hardest. Blackened chunks of wall struck him from behind, and he smashed into the opposite wall with tremendous force. Something inside him audibly crunched, and he collapsed limply to the floor before his charges’ very eyes and did not rise. From where she stood, the Fire Lady wasn’t even sure if he was still alive.

Stepping through the newly made hole in the wall were several masked men in outdated but clearly recognizable patterns of Fire Army uniform. The young airbenders alternatively screamed, cried, or tried to scramble out of the way. One boy tried to crawl towards the unconscious, possibly dead older man, only to be beaten to the punch by a cone of flame as wide across as three men, visibly distorting the air around it with sheer heat, which enveloped the helpless man and much of the surrounding hallway completely. A single firebender had generated it with an almost casual punching motion.

“Gliders,” one of the other soldiers, this one in an officer’s uniform, remarked. “No escapees.”

Another soldier extended his hand and incinerated the neat rack full of airbender staffs resting along the wall, all of them much like the one Aang held. Faces lit up by the roar of yellow-orange flames, the scattered youths either cowered in terror or cried aloud, screaming the names of people the regent didn’t recognize. For a moment that’s all they did, the sounds of their fear blending with the roaring, raging inferno all around them.

“…Lieutenant,” one of the masked firebenders surveilled the hallway before turning slightly towards the officer. “These… these are just kids… surely…”

“They’re all about the right age to be the Avatar…” man answered in a low voice. His helmet turned towards one already burnt airbender, who flinched at his gaze and crawled backwards several steps, though the spreading wall of fire kept him trapped. “…the heart of the secret army.”

“There was no army here,” Ursa’s grandfather informed her. “Only monks sworn to nonviolence, and the children they watched over.”

“…The Fire Lord speaks with Agni’s voice on earth,” a different soldier said. “We must obey him.”

“Make it quick,” the lieutenant commanded his squad in a clipped tone.

No, Ursa thought. No, please…

Yes, the vision answered. One, two, three, and four firebenders combined their powers and filled the entire cavernous hallway with a seething, roiling sea of fire in instant. The small handful of airbending children present barely had a split second for a final scream before they too were completely enveloped. One of the five men present looked down, looked away, doing nothing either to aid his fellow soldiers or to stop them.

It was, true to orders, over very swiftly. The unbelievable intensity of the firestorm in that place left naught but ashes behind.

“So it played out in a hundred scenes, in all four Air Temples,” Roku said grimly as the mists enveloped the two of them once more. “The destruction of an entire people. The annihilation of a culture that had endured for thousands of years, through which the Avatar spirit had passed innumerable times.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “All at the hands of one I had called friend.”

“B-But…” Ursa put a trembling hand to her mouth, battling a sense of overwhelming nausea. “there were s-survivors… surely… surely we didn’t just k-kill… kill them all…”

“That there were was due to no goodness of Sozin’s, but that in our people.”

The mists around them parted once again.

“This one’s much too young!” a crimson-armored masked firebender beneath that same red sky hissed in a low voice, clutching a bundle in his arms. “There’s no way she can be the Avatar! Captain, she’s just a baby!”

“…The Fire Lord’s orders were clear,” the masked officer replied, refusing to look directly at the cloth clutched in his subordinate’s arm. “No surv-” his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “N-No…”

“Captain… I kn-know we’re here to protect ourselves, but…” he held up the swaddled baby right in front of his superior’s face. “How can this be a threat?!”

There was a pause, interrupted only by the crackling of flames all around them. So many flames.

“…We’re going to war to spread the glory of the Fire Nation,” the firebender whispered, his voice barely audible above the inferno. “Why can’t we share it with l-little ones like this?”

“…If this gets back to the Fire Lord, it’ll be on your head.” The other man pointed one finger right between the soldier’s eye slits. “I never saw anything.”

The captain turned and stalked away into the darkness. The baby in the soldier’s arms began to cry. The flames all around crackled on.

“B-But… how?” Ursa managed, hand clasped over her mouth as she dry heaved. “B-Babies… they’re not q-quiet… so…”

“Word eventually reached my former friend, but he pretended not to notice, for with the Air Nomads already eradicated he could not pretend that a few infants and tiny children much too young to be the Avatar were any kind of threat,” her grandfather informed her. “With the onset of war with three other nations and the Avatar having eluded him, he could not afford the time or effort required to purge his own military.”

The Fire Lady looked down at her own pointed slippers, her countenance pale and one hand clutched over her mouth. The flaming buildings around them dissolved slowly back into the fog.

“It was Sozin’s son who realized he could turn the compassion of our people into another tool to spread his lies,” the Avatar continued. “Taking even goodness and twisting it to an evil end – that is what this war has done to this world. To the Fire Nation.”

There was, for a little while, silence between them. Grandfather and granddaughter stood there amidst the roiling fog, the strange mountain range slowly coming back into view around them. The latter took a little while to just stare at her own shrouded feet, breathing deeply and out, and only gradually lowered her long-nailed hand back to her side.

“I know it is much to ask you to take in,” Roku eventually said in a softer, more sympathetic tone. “Believe me, if I had more time… or I could somehow bear this burden in your stead…” he shook his bearded head sadly. “I apologize again that I must force this upon you so suddenly, but my window of action, and my powers in the physical realm, are limited.”

“If… if what you say is true, then… then…” Ursa closed her eyes, lowering her head. “Then I am sorry.” She swallowed. “A great crime was committed by our nation at the war’s outset, and I vow… to do all I can to make whatever amends are possible,” she looked up again. “After the world is ours.”

“What?” the old man’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. “What did you just say?”

“Such a thing must not be allowed to happen again,” the middle-aged woman declared, resolution returning swiftly to her voice. “And I know of only one way to make certain that it will not.”

“After all you have just seen… after what I have just shown you…” the astonishment on the Avatar’s face was plain to see, “You still believe that rule by the line of Sozin is the solution to all of the world’s ills?”

“Iroh, by his own will, will neither rule nor have any more children,” she pointed out. “The ruling line of Sozin is your line now, every bit as much. Soon enough it will be the line of the moon spirit’s chosen as well.”

Roku just stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“And moreover, a son is not guilty of the crimes of his father,” the Fire Lady said. “Unless you mean to tell me that Zuko is also to be held responsible for his own grandfather ordering his father to murder him in cold blood when he was nothing more than a boy? Is that what you mean to say?”

“…Even though we have never met before, I know you know me better than that.”

“I thought not,” she shook her head. “And regardless, I bear no relation to Sozin at all. I am your descendant. I ordered no extermination. I took no part in it. I was not even born until more than half a century after the deed was done. I will do what I can to make the situation right, but I will not be pressured into acting as though I or my children are in any way to blame for an atrocity of a hundred years ago. Sozin’s guilt is his own to bear.”

“And bear it he does,” her grandfather said, with a brief trace of sadness in his voice.

Grandfather misses his old friend, she realized with a start as he visibly reminisced. Even now. Even after everything.

The Avatar soon shook his head, and his tone grew sterner. “When you take up a throne, daughter, you take on more than just its power. You also assume its debts. You cannot simply act as though the past did not happen.”

“And you cannot act as though the present counts for nothing. As the world actually is, the Earth Kingdom cannot govern itself, and its leader is manifestly unfit to lead. The mere fact that we stand now on the precipice of victory, when we ought to have been buried beneath the weight of the continent’s vast multitudes decades ago, is proof enough of that. By ancient conquest that kingdom was created in the first place, and by the success of our conquest we may know its decrepit structures have lost any right to rule.”

“Still you cling to Sozin’s lies?” Roku sounded genuinely incensed. “Still you pretend that what our nation has done, what you are doing, is bringing civilization to the world? Ursa, you have seen the truth for yourself – if there is any nation that has embraced savagery, it was our own! What the Fire Nation has brought to the world for the last century has been pain and misery and death. An entire culture eradicated. Uncountable piles of dead. Families ripped apart. Cities burned. Villages wiped out. This war is a charnel house, fed with the blood of the flower of our nation and the other nations alike! And this, you call civilization?! It was a lie, child!”

“If it was a lie, then it was a lie I made the truth,” she countered. “I precisely know the government’s thoughts, intentions, and deepest secrets because I am the government. And my son will follow me. My beliefs about the enemy kingdom are no lie, and my desire to help no pretense. I mean every word. And the children that will follow me – your own great-grandchildren – are no different.”

“And you think that makes your actions justified?”

“Yes,” Ursa nodded. “Yes, I do. However I came by it, I have the power, I have the right, it is my responsibility to use it.”

“Right?! What right do you think you have to do any of this? To build your imagined utopia atop an edifice of murder and lies?”

“The same right that built the nations in the first place: that of destined, progressive conquest, of the unification of disparate peoples under the banner of order and unity, to the greater glory and prosperity of them all.”

“Perhaps you ought to take the time to meditate amongst the Air Temples of old, child,” the old man said. “Seek an audience with the ghosts of those who yet linger there. Perhaps you might ask them what they think about the ‘prosperity’ the Fire Nation brought to their home.”

“Even if everything you say is true, even if the war was begun in a lie and a slaughter, the fact remains that a hundred years have passed since then and the lie has become the truth. I know this for certain, because I am the one who decides what the government does, and why. And I know my son. I know Yue. I know, given the chance, neither will act as you describe. Neither will raise children who will act that way.”

“And so saying you simply mean to ignore all that you have learned, the great lie at the heart of this war, and do what you meant to do regardless.” Roku scowled at his descendant.

“If this crime was indeed committed, I am truly sorry, and will do my best to make what amends I can for the fate of these airbenders. But the guilt of such an act is not mine to bear – and I cannot wave my hands and undo it all. No matter what I do, I cannot raise the dead, father of my father. What is done, is done.”

“Perhaps not, but you can end the present violence, Ursa,” her grandfather told her. “And you must.”

“Your insistence on that does not change the present realities with which my family and I must grapple. The Fire Nation’s system has proven itself to be the best, in both battle and the management of the nation. That we are the greatest, richest, most prosperous, and most powerful empire in all of history is beyond debate. That we have succeeded in the face of immense odds stacked against us is incontrovertible, as is the fact that we have done so while maintaining a higher standard of living for our population than exists anywhere else.”

“You may believe that that is so, and it may even be accurate in some respects, but I’ve not the time to debate economics with you. In any case, it is irrelevant. Prosperity, imagined or even real, does not give you the right seize control of another nation’s land by force that you might order it to your liking.”

“In this case? I disagree. Our imminent victory, our people’s manifest abundance, is a clear sign that the heavens themselves, that the spirits who preside there, that destiny have withdrawn their mandate from the feckless and corrupt rulers of the Earth Kingdom and given it over to those who will use it ably, responsibly, and for the good of all. My children and yours.” Ursa met Roku’s gaze. “How else do you justify the past dynastic turnovers on that continent? Turnovers that your previous incarnations endorsed, or at least declined to do anything about.”

“…I see you paid perhaps too much attention in your schooling for your own good.”

“I am a noble lady of the Fire Nation,” she declared proudly. “With all the best education that comes with it.”

“An education that has taught you too well how to produce rationalizations,” he shook his head.

“Even if you disagree with my assessment of the Earth Kingdom,” she pressed on, “then consider for a moment the present realities of your own homeland. If were to just order the army to turn around and home, now of all times when we are standing on the precipice of victory and a hundred years of bloody sacrifice is finally about to end, I would face an inevitable rebellion from the military itself. There are enough nobles and high officers who can claim some distant descent from a past Fire Lord, from Agni, to serve as pretenders to the throne. It would not be the end of war, but just its beginning.”

“Persuasion has long been your gift, granddaughter. Do not insult my intelligence by denying that you could, were you to put your mind to it, come up with a sufficiently convincing rationale for withdrawal. For instance, simply tell them the truth: that the army of the Fire Nation isn’t large enough to maintain an indefinite occupation of the whole Earth Kingdom against a population determined enough to expel it. Yes, there would be dissent, but I believe that you and your children are more than sufficient to quell it.”

“You overestimate my abilities, grandfather. A hundred years of victorious warfare and all its attendant costs cannot simply be undone on the whims of a single woman. The nation is disciplined and loyal, but not that loyal. What am I to tell them is the final reward for the bravery, heroism, and self-sacrifice displayed by so many?”

“You could find a way, had you a mind to. If there is one thing that the last five years have made clear, it is that you are gifted with a formidable mind and a silver tongue. If you set yourself wholly to the task of persuading first your children, and then our nation, of the folly of these last hundred years and the need to return our people back to their rightful home, I have every confidence that you would find a way.”

“Even were I willing to contemplate such a step, even if I ignored that the unity our nation would not survive the repercussions, none of that addresses the fact I would be abandoning the Earth Kingdom continent to a combination the rule of a parasitic, incompetent police state in Ba Sing Se, civil war, and raw anarchy. I would be abandoning hundreds of thousands of my people – your people – who live in the colonies to face mass expulsion at best, and a genocide of their own at worst. And none of this,” Ursa said, “would do anything to bring those airbenders back.”

“Crimes of another do not excuse crimes of your own,” Roku countered. “Your dislike for the Earth Kingdom’s government – however justified it may be – does not excuse your violations of its territory, your usurpation of its sovereignty, your killing of its people. It is not your role, nor the role of the Fire Lord, to presume to call the Earth King to account for his failures within his own nation, whether real or imagined. Still less it is your role to presumptuously seize its lands and subjugate its people, as though you had any right to them! The Fire Lord is appointed to rule the Fire Nation – no less, and no more.”

“If not us, then who is to call the Earth King to account? The manifest failures of his governance are abundantly clear and have been for a very long time. The combination of sheer superlative ineptitude in providing actual leadership to the kingdom at large and a tyrannical vicegrip within his own demesne makes it clear that any right to rule he once had has long been forfeit.”

“Whether that is so or no, the fact remains that it is not for you to decide.”

“Then who?”

“Those of the Earth Kingdom whose role it is to push back against him, on whose support he relies, without whom he is naught but a man,” he answered, “or, if need be, the Avatar.”

“The Avatar?”

“The Avatar,” her grandfather repeated.

“Remind me, was it not Avatar Kyoshi who founded the Dai Li, who have become nothing more than the Earth King’s instruments against his own people?” Ursa asked, eyebrow raised. “Was it not you who, by your own account, failed completely in preventing this war that you seem to expect I will flagellate myself for? Is it not because of your ‘mistakes and failures’ that the decisions regarding the fate of the world have been left to your granddaughter and a twelve-year-old boy?”

The old man looked down slightly at that particular accusation.

“Considering the recent track record and the state of your present reincarnation, I fail to see why I should place much faith in the Avatar’s judgement at all. For such an ancient being, your cycle’s grasp on long-term consequences seems limited.” She frowned. “For me, I judge that the consequences of withdrawing from the Earth Kingdom, of surrendering our gains to countless petty warlord states and allowing the regime in Ba Sing Se to perpetuate itself to be worse than those of simply winning and rebuilding the world in our nation’s image. The crimes of the past do not sway me, because I know that it lies within my power to end the crimes of the present, and my son will not allow such crimes in the future and will have all the power in the world to prevent them – but only if we win.”

“You claim that you will end the crimes of the present, while you yourself perpetuate so many of them with each passing day. You soak yourself in blood and then act as though you are clean.”

“I don’t see how I am any different than any other leader in that regard.”

“You do not see because you do not want to see! You do not want to admit to the mountains of dead that now lie at your feet, so you lie yourself.”

“I have killed,” she acknowledged. “Both with my own hand, and with my words. But never when I did not believe it deserved or necessary. Any government at all does that as a matter of necessity, grandfather. Including all of the ones you worked to uphold throughout your lifetime.”

“This war is not necessary. It was never necessary. It is a lie begun in betrayal and slaughter, and perpetuated by ignorance and unthinking obedience to men who did not deserve it.” The Avatar looked his granddaughter in the eye. “Men like the one you murdered.”

“Azulon,” she breathed.

“Do you imagine your son to be the first innocent whose death that man ordered? Do you suppose a man so ruthless and cruel with his own family spared the families of his own subjects, let alone those of the other nations?”

“Whatever crimes that man committed, they are avenged, by my hand,” the Fire Lady answered. “And as I believe we’ve established, a son bears no guilt for the crimes of his father – not that he was my father anyway.”

“You deflect. You hide. You cannot run from this, child,” Roku shook his head. “Azulon was a wicked man, though he himself was a victim of his father’s teachings and actions. You know he was a wicked man. Yet you believe everything he told you about his wars, because you do not wish to question the ground on which you stand.”

“I’ve told you already that you cannot sway me by appealing to the crimes of the past, real or no,” the Fire Lady frowned once more. “Because, grandfather, the simple fact of the matter is that wars and crimes and exterminations happened before this hundred-year war ever began. If I do as you ask, they will simply happen again, very likely to our own people, or people to whom we have sworn alliance. Abandoning this war will not stop them. Abandoning this war will not break open the pits into which the Dai Li drag their victims. Abandoning this war will not prevent the outbreak of further wars, in our homeland and in the Earth Kingdom.”

Roku locked eyes with Ursa. She did not flinch away.

“You may look accusingly at me all you wish over crimes over which I had no control, committed decades before I was born, but I cannot change them, and I will not be coerced into accepting the blame. Sozin and Azulon may go before the divine forefather of our people to receive their own punishments, but I must attend to the present. I must shape the future. And the future I choose is one where neither the crimes of Fire Lords past nor Earth Kings present will happen any longer. A golden future.” Her face was set into a determined mask. “My future.”

“You still believe in that in lie.”

“It is no lie,” she shook her head, “because I will make it the truth.”

“I see your confidence in your own power and wisdom has become little more than dangerous arrogance.”

“Speaking as one whose immediate past life allowed civil war to ravage the Earth Kingdom yet again, who thoughtlessly created the Dai Li as instruments of oppression, and who himself failed both to notice that what he opposed so vehemently was taking shape right before his eyes and to stop it with all the power of the Avatar at his command, yet now wishes to order the world from beyond the grave? Are you arguing from experience, grandfather?”

“…Obstinate child,” her ancestor shook his head. “So trusting of propaganda put into your head as a little girl. So blindly confident in your own abilities. Even if you succeed, Ursa, what you create will not be the golden world you envision.”

“I don’t see why not. In my hands is inarguably the most successful empire in history. It’s time the entire world enjoyed its benefits. And they will enjoy them. I will make certain of it.”

“You parrot the words that started this madness. The words that have brought about so much suffering and death,” Roku looked genuinely sad. “And you don’t even understand what it is your efforts will culminate in.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“The world you envision is no golden paradise, but a stagnant pond. Rotten and corrupt, spawned from lies and murder, filled with foulness.” His scowl grew deep. “The one thing that can perhaps be said for you is that you are less foul than another might have been. That perhaps the nightmare you seek to bring about is one the world might ultimately wake from.”

“The ‘nightmare’ of the world brought together under one system, which has proven itself the best of any, with one divine-blooded leader to resolve its problems.”

“The four nations are meant to be just that: four!” Roku said with conviction.

“Why?”

“The fullness of the explanation would require far more time than we now possess. But, in a word: balance.”

“Perhaps something more than a single word is required here.”

“Because each people, each element, represent a different way of life, a different path for spirits born and reborn into them to walk. Water, the element of change. Earth, the element of substance. Fire, the element of power. Air, the element of freedom. Each is a valid and worthy path for different people in different lifetimes, and each deserves their own space, ruled by their own people, in which they are free to develop their own traditions, their own wisdom according to the nature and desires of their own spirits. Wisdom which can then be shared with others on a different journey. Freely. As equals.” Roku glared pointedly at his descendant. “It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale. It is in understanding and respecting the ways of the other elements that you, that your children, that the Fire Nation can become whole and glorious. Not by subjugating them.”

“The peoples of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes are not going to be eradicated, grandfather. The fact that one of them is soon set to marry the Fire Lord is proof enough of that. That which is good and worthy in their ways of life will be incorporated into the empire.”

“And you believe that makes your subjugation of them righteous? You think yourself fit to preside as judge over them?”

“Yes, and yes,” she nodded, to his visible displeasure. “Destiny clearly sides with us on this matter.”

“Shackling the other elements within the confines of the dictates of fire will not produce the utopia you expect in your propaganda-induced naivety. It will only stifle their potential, breed only corruption, resentment, and misery. Wholeness and wisdom are gained when the spirit is able to express itself according to its own nature, in an environment which is natural to it, not when it is forcibly imprisoned within a way of life wholly foreign to its being.”

“By that reasoning, every province, every island, every town, and tiny village should be their own state. Actually, no, let us just abandon every pretense to order and declare a universal reign of anarchy. That way all the ‘wisdom’ of every last living soul would be free to bounce off one another without restraint, which I’m sure would only have positive consequences.”

“You set up a man of straw, and then you attack it. Really, daughter, I thought you better than that.” He looked disapproving. “As there are four elements, four steps of the Avatar cycle, so too are there meant to be four nations. This allows those spirits born into each nation to develop along paths which are appropriate for them at that point in their journey. In maintaining a balance of four nations, the Avatar helps continue a system that, however imperfectly, provides each people a way to pursue their own destinies while avoiding the pitfalls of utter anarchy on one hand,” here his scowl deepened, “and the tyrannical domination of one element and its associated path on the other.”

“And that’s why Avatar Kyoshi did nothing when Chin the Conqueror waged his war against the Earth King,” Ursa realized with a start. “Why the civil wars or localized conflicts of the past were so often allowed to play out. Either way, an earth monarch would rule the Earth Kingdom, and this balance you consider it your overriding priority to protect would not have been under threat.”

“To shepherd the whole world is the Avatar’s duty. It is what we are born to do. Determining where and when to intervene, and where and when to allow events to play out, is an oft-onerous part of that responsibility.”

“A responsibility which, by your own admission, you failed at. Perhaps you ought to consider that it is time that someone else took up the role of supreme authority. That they might do a better job.”

“There is your arrogance speaking again.”

“Is it arrogance if reality reflects the truth of what I say? Again, our nation has decisively won a war it should, by all conventional wisdom, have been overwhelmed in within the first decade. It has defeated waterbenders at sea and earthbenders in the mountains, consistently over the course of a century, all the while maintaining the world’s highest standard of living within its borders. If that does not speak to the clear superiority of our system to all others, of our right to reorder the world in its image, I do not know what does.”

“Again, you mistake violence, mistake mere money, for a right to invade, to burn, to kill, to subjugate lands and peoples beyond your borders, beyond those entrusted to you by destiny. You do not have that right, Ursa, and you never will.”

“On what grounds did the order upheld by the Avatars from time immemorial exist, except that providence had chosen some people as fit to rule over others by virtue of their greater ability to bring order and prosperity? On what grounds did the Avatars claim authority, other than that destiny fitted them for it?”

Her grandfather gave a weary, disappointed sigh. “How many times must I explain to you that what you are doing is not the same, daughter? The window provided by the solstice is not infinite. That some are fitted for one task does not mean all are, and you are not fitted for the destiny which you presume to appropriate. Neither are the children that you deceive.”

“I’ve never told them a lie that wasn’t absolutely necessary,” she retorted, “and for their own good.”

“You’ll not find me so easy to deceive as your children are, child. As you are.”

The Avatar visibly scoffed, and his grandchild bristled slightly.

“Listen to yourself,” he continued. “Talking of ‘necessary’ lies. Deceiving even those closest to you ‘for their own good’. You echo the deluded convictions of Sozin without even realizing it. You may not be the source of this rot that eats at our nation, but you have become its chief vessel. Your mind was poisoned, and you poison other minds in turn. Even those of your own children.”

“I would never harm my children. I would die first.”

“You would, and you have proven it,” he acknowledged. “That you still don’t see the truth of what you’re doing to them is proof of how deeply you yourself have been poisoned.”

“What you call poison is merely having ideas which are not yours.”

“And instead, you merely parrot the ideas of my former friend.”

“If what you’ve shown me is indeed the truth, I would rather say I’ve considerably improved upon them. I have had many chances to start massacres of enemy populations, grandfather, and I have turned down them all.”

“A rather low bar to boast of clearing.”

“Is marrying my own son to the daughter of a former enemy not enough to prove the sincerity of my vision?”

“Your sincerity is perhaps the worst part of all of this,” he told her. “For it was a very similar sincerity that started Sozin down the path that brought all this about.”

“Nonetheless, he lost his way, and I have not. I could have destroyed the Southern Water Tribe as he did the Air Nomads, and I did not. Even Azulon desisted from doing so when it lay in his power.” She pursed her lips. “Instead, through my son’s marriage, I found a way to spare the lives of waterbenders and integrate them. It will go likewise for the earthbenders. And who knows? Perhaps, in time, your reincarnation and I might find a way to restore the airbenders. The children of those children who were snatched from fire – they might hold the key.”

“More grand dreams of golden futures, built atop death and suffering, always just one more ‘necessary’ sacrifice away. You sound so much like Sozin once did, and you cannot see. Or, rather, you refuse to. You learn nothing from what I have revealed to you because you choose to learn nothing.”

“And what about you, grandfather? Have you considered that you might instead do to learn from me? After all, I stand on the verge of succeeding in my chosen goal, while by your admission you failed in yours.”

“…Once, when it was in my hands, I spared Sozin’s life,” the Avatar shook his head heavily, eyes closed. “That was my greatest failure. Because of my misplaced mercy, how many have suffered? How many have died?” He opened his amber eyes again and regarded his granddaughter.

Ursa’s eyes widened in sudden, shocking understanding. In spite of her words, she could not help but cringe back a little, backing off a step and half raising her arms in what she knew to be an utterly futile gesture.

“Killing me now will change nothing,” the Fire Lady declared with all the boldness she could muster. “My children will carry on my work. The war will continue onwards to its inevitable end, and no crimes of the past will be undone. You will accomplish nothing but getting the poor child whose body you now wield executed – simultaneously killing the last Air Nomad and eternally branding your own soul with the mark of kinslayer.”

The old man said nothing in response, allowing the sorrowful expression on his countenance to do all the talking for him.

“Look at yourself,” she pointed one sharp golden nail guard at him. “An old ghost, possessing a body of a helpless boy to threaten your own grandchild for being no more than what she was taught to be since she was a little girl: a loyal citizen of the Fire Nation, a lover of her people, and mother who does what is best for her children.”

“You really do believe that,” he muttered quietly. “Foolish child.”

“Father,” she went on, looking him straight in the eye, “would be ashamed to call you his father.”

“You have… no idea what the role of Avatar demands of those forced to carry its burden…” Roku said in a sad, solemn tone. “None at all.”

“Once I marked my descent from you with pride, but for all your pretenses to wisdom and morality you’re just another Azulon, ready to break the most sacred of bonds and slaughter your own grandchild when it suits your ends,” she hissed. “You’re just another Ozai.”

There was another, longer lull in the conversation.

“…I would ask you not to compare me to your charming husband. As angry as you may feel towards me, I do not think I deserve quite that much.”

“What would you know of Ozai?”

“We’ve met.”

“What? You were dead decades before his birth.”

“The night he first arrived in the world of spirits, he and I… had words.”

In spite of herself and her situation, the Fire Lady actually found herself chuckling a little at that image.

“…Though your words come from a place of profound ignorance and delusion, you speak truly. You are the poisoned as much as the poisoner, and ending your life now would resolve nothing. The chance to spare the world with the taking of a single life passed me by long ago,” Roku sighed heavily, lowering his head in obvious regret. “Had I but taken it then, you would have been saved from all this.”

“Had you done so, Sozin would not have remarried in his later years or sired Azulon,” she reminded him. “Zuko and Azula would not have been born.” The Fire Lady scrutinized her grandfather’s face carefully. “That idea… it bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Roku said nothing, only closing his eyes and sighing softly.

“…And you don’t really wish to kill me either,” Ursa continued in a far gentler tone. “Do you?”

“You are the child of my child,” the Avatar replied softly. “How could I ever want that?”

“Then I was wrong,” she lowered her head just a fraction, in contrition, “you are not like Azulon. I apologize for that remark.”

“…But you still will not heed my words, will you?”

“I simply do not believe that the world you envision is better than the one I do,” she answered him honestly, still speaking softly. “It is, in the end, as simple as that.”

“…So be it,” the old man sighed heavily, and to her eyes he suddenly looked even older. He bowed his head briefly, as if in mourning, before looking back up at her. “The apex of the solstice is ending, and our time together draws to a close.”

“Until we meet again then,” she answered. “I will take good care of the child in whom you are reborn, you may count on that.”

“…The saddest thing about that is that I believe that you will earnestly try to. You ought to have been so much better than this. It is because of my failure that you are not.”

“You cannot truly believe that I am that bad, if you are letting me go.”

“You are misguided, foolish, stubborn, and an architect of the misery of many,” he said. “But, in the innermost depths of your being, I don’t think you are driven by wickedness. Zuko and Azula…” he sighed once again. “You really do love them.”

“More than life itself,” she nodded solemnly.

“And that is perhaps the greatest tragedy of your existence,” the white-haired man shook his head and took a deep breath. “I have little time left to further fruitlessly discuss this with you, daughter of my son, but perhaps you will heed me when I tell you that there are others who will not share my qualms, and that they are closer at hand than you realize.”

“I already know that,” she said. “People have tried to kill me before. But who will they turn to? I am well-guarded, and most of the Fire Nation’s most proficient assassins are in my employ. Even the Avatar is here, with me.”

“Nonetheless, if you will not stop for the sake of the damage your ignorance will do to the world, then will you not stop for the sake of the damage it would do to your children to be left motherless at such a tender age?”

“…Little worthwhile is accomplished without at least some risk,” Ursa said, with only a slight tremor in her voice. “I will deliver my children the world, and the world to a golden age. And, again, I am well-protected.”

“If you do this thing, granddaughter,” Roku warned in a solemn tone, “then I fear you and I may meet again far sooner than you imagine.”

“I’ll take my chances, grandfather,” the Fire Lady declared, swallowing once.

“…Then you choose your own fate.”

As the world began fading and the mists enveloped her once again, the last thing Ursa saw was the old Avatar looking profoundly sad.

Chapter Text

“Urgh…” Ursa gave a low groan as she opened her eyes.

The Fire Lady found herself right back in the familiar confines of Azulon’s old office, the still-warm rays of the winter sun beating down on her back. Seated across the desk from her was the young Avatar, a bright white glow still visible in his eyes and on the arrow tattooed across his scalp. She blinked, staring silently at the boy for several seconds, until the inner light seemed first to dim, and then to blink out entirely. Aang gave a low moan of his own and slumped limply back against his chair, eyes closed.

“Aang?” the regent queried in a soft voice, forcing herself to sit up straight in spite of the waves of exhaustion that were coursing through her body. “Aang? Are you alright, child?”

“Mmmm…” the airbender moaned a second time. He opened his eyes gradually, grey irises meeting their amber counterparts briefly, before blinking several times. Then he looked down at his own lap, making no effort to sit up, a troubled expression on his usually cheerful face.

Did Grandfather say something to him too? Ursa wondered.

“Mom!” the office door suddenly burst open, the young Fire Lord racing through the portal with an unseemly haste.

“Lady Ursa!” the northern princess was hot on his heels, with several members of the Royal Procession and the moon child’s personal guard following in her wake.

“Zuko?” the Fire Lady raised an eyebrow at the small group that was now crowding her office. “Yue?” She looked up at her son, who reached her side in a handful of steps. “What are you all doing here?”

“I…” Like her betrothed, the snow-haired princess’s face had a sheen of sweat, but unlike his it was also flushed. “I felt something…” she panted. “Something powerful… coming from in here.” She placed one hand on her chest and the other on the Fire Lord’s desk.

“Are you alright?” the king asked her in an urgent tone, putting one of his own hands on his mother’s broad shoulder pad. “Did anything happen here?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Zuko,” she assured him in a motherly tone, smiling comfortingly up at her firstborn. “Really.”

On her opposite side, Yue took a deep breath. “But… something was happening here… I’m sure of it. I could feel it until… until…” her blue eyes looked up and over the desk, to the child seated on the opposite side. “Until just a moment ago.” She looked at the airbender a little strangely.

“Aang…” Zuko frowned slightly, his voice growing a little deeper. “Did you have something to do with what she felt?”

“I… I don’t know…” the boy looked uncomfortable. “I-I didn’t mean to do anything…”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” the regent interjected, gesturing towards the small assemblage of guards to back off. “I’m fine. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Whatever you felt, Yue, no one in here is, or was, in any danger.”

“Are you sure?” The girl looked at her, concern visible in her blue eyes. “Whatever was here felt really powerful.”

“I’m positive,” she replied a little more emphatically. Then she looked up at the still-present soldiers. “Please, could you leave us be a moment? We’re all alright, but I think a little privacy is called for here.”

“As you wish, your majesty,” said one Haizu of the Imperial Firebenders.

The royalty and their guest sat or stood in silence for a few moments, with one taking the opportunity to finish catching her breath. It was only once the various bodyguards had obediently filed back outside, and the heavy door had slammed shut behind them, that the conversation resumed.

“Be gentle with Aang,” Ursa promptly urged her son and his fiancé. “This child has been given far too many burdens at far too young an age. Don’t add to them, please.”

“I was just… worried about you,” the Fire Lord confessed.

“We both were.”

“Ever since we lost Dad…” her son’s voice trailed off, but the look in his golden eyes spoke for itself.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, and gave her child a slight frown of her own. “And I don’t appreciate it when you dredge up unpleasant memories in front of our guest. Please, don’t proceed any further with that line of thinking.”

“…Alright,” he withdrew his hand from her shoulder with some reluctance, though he remained rooted to the spot.

“So… I’m still your guest?” Aang piped up, still slumped over in his seat, hesitation audible in his tone. “You’re not… mad at me, are you?” He slumped over a little more, seeming to almost sink into the chair as his gaze fell.

“Mad at you?” Ursa blinked, as Zuko and Yue looked on with visible confusion. “Child, where would get the idea that I would be angry at you?”

He looked back up at her, the hand gripping his glider fidgeting just a little. Momo made his way over to the boy’s side, cocking his little white head at the airbender, but the boy didn’t seem to notice.

“Aang…” Ursa’s voice was gentle, comforting in a motherly sort of way. She rose to her feet, and her son stepped to one side to let her pass. She made her way around the desk, standing right over the young Avatar’s chair. “Listen to me.”

The last Air Nomad’s gaze was, indeed, fixed firmly upon her.

“I don’t want to be set against you, child,” she assured him, placing one hand on his young shoulder and running her fingers softly along the back of it. “Do you want to be set against me?”

“No!” he replied at once, shaking his head earnestly. “I just thought-”

“Then, whatever happened today, it’s water under the bridge,” she cut him off before he could go any further, bending over so her face was on his level. “I am as close to your family as anyone now walking the earth. And, if you’ll let me, I’d like nothing better than to treat you as part of mine.” The Fire Lady looked the Avatar right in the eyes. “Will you let me, Aang?”

“I…” the boy still seemed hesitant, for some reason.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” she asked him quietly.

“…Yes,” he admitted, in an equally low voice.

The Fire Lady leaned in and embraced the Avatar with both arms. She pulled him right into her chest, consciously stoking her inner flame to raise the temperature of her skin to something a bit like that of a soothing hot stone from a spa. It was only a few seconds later that his glider clattered noisily to hard office floor, and the child began to hug her back.

“You took my grandfather,” Ursa said in a voice no higher than a whisper, staring up at a wall-mounted portrait of Fire Lord Sozin in a quiet chamber that was once a personal retreat of his. “I took your son, and your grandson. Vengeance for your betrayal of my family came, I suppose, without even my knowing. Providence, perhaps, or a karmic debt.”

The sun over Caldera had long since set, and the city at large had drifted off into its usual quiet nighttime routine. Dinner was past, her nightly hot soak was done, her long hair cleaned and oiled, and she was wearing her soft silk imperial red night robes. Normally, she would be settling into bed at this hour, but something in her felt compelled to be here instead, if only for a moment, sitting alone on a soft chair with guards dismissed and only a few candles for light.

She doubted very much that Sozin’s spirit, wherever it was, would be able or willing to manifest a vision to confront her, as her grandfather had. But maybe, just maybe, if she spoke to him in a place that had a connection to his mortal existence on the night of the solstice, when the spirit world and her own were still so close, then he might just be able to hear her. If a word of what Roku had said was true, she doubted very much he had yet reincarnated.

“If what I heard today is true, then you wrought great evil,” she shook her head. “But… I still can’t help but be grateful that you lived – for you brought me my children.” The Fire Lady closed her eyes, calling up memories of her painful but joyous days of childbirth. “Even from the ashes of something so… awful, something unimaginably good was able to emerge. There’s a lesson there, I think.”

The long-dead Fire Lord stared back at her with unblinking golden eyes and said nothing.

“…I don’t know if you meant what you said about starting the war to spread the glory of the Fire Nation,” she continued after a long pause. “Or whether it was always just another lie to you. But it doesn’t matter now. The worst of your line have been swept away, and with them the corruption that seeped into you. All that remains of your dynasty, and your dream, is that which is worthy to inherit the earth.”

There was yet another prolonged stretch of silence, as the two leaders of the Fire Nation continued to lock eyes.

“So, I suppose that I must thank you, even as I condemn you,” Ursa said, bowing her head ever so slightly to the image. “Thank you for bringing me here, to the brink of making the best of your vision a reality. Thank you for bringing me Zuko. Thank you for bringing me Azula. And,” she looked up, brow creasing, “may you wander in darkness, finding neither rest nor rebirth, until the souls of all of the children you murdered have first found their own way to peace.”

With those words, the regent rose from her seat, turned, and left the old Fire Lord behind.

That same night, in a guest room across the palace, Aang was tossing and turning in his large four poster bed.

Avatar Roku wanted him to restore balance to the world. Avatar Roku wanted him to end the war. But the time he’d had with the spirit of his past life was so abbreviated, the wisdom the older man had been able to impart was so limited, that he still wasn’t any wiser as to how any of that was supposed to be accomplished.

Ursa had told him that if he had some way to solve the problems of her nation and those of the Earth Kingdom, to let the Fire Nation disentangle itself from the conflict without overrunning Ba Sing Se, without starting fresh conflicts elsewhere, and while ensuring that these awful Dai Li people no longer terrorized the world’s biggest city, then she was willing to listen to him. He had no reason to think she was being anything but honest, as she’d been about everything else so far. But the trouble was he had no idea how to do any of that, had no idea where to even begin, and he had only until next summer’s end to somehow come up with something.

But he didn’t know! He didn’t know anything about ruling, or politics, or wars, or how a century’s worth of accumulated grudges were to be resolved amongst peoples who didn’t believe in the same principled forsaking of vengeance as his did. All he knew was that he wanted the killing to stop, wanted everyone to just be friends and live in harmony with each other again. Like it had been in the old days.

Pulling the covers up over his head, the young Avatar wanted to cry out at the sheer unfairness of it all being dumped in his lap. Shan Feng’s wings, he was twelve! A child, not a warrior, not a savior, not some all-knowing, all-powerful spirit living atop a mountain. Even as the world spirit reborn, he was supposed to have been allowed to have a normal childhood for at least another four years. Monk Gyatso was the wisest man he had ever known, and he had told him so himself. His mentor had remembered that Aang needed freedom, needed fun, not to be saddled with the burdens of an entire planet by himself. He’d been the only one on the Council of Elders to stand up for the boy that actually existed, not the mythical figure the other airbenders had seemed convinced that he was.

So why were only the people who seemed to agree with his teacher the very ones he was somehow supposed to stop?

These people… these people had been nothing but nice to him. He slept in their home. He ate meals with them. He was learning more about firebending with Azula with every passing day. She’d introduced him to her fun acrobat friend. They’d had a comfortable stable set up for Appa, right on the rim of the volcano for the flying bison to easily soar in and out. They’d outright given him Momo, just so he’d have an animal companion small enough to accompany him everywhere. Spirits, they’d even had several sets of new clothes, in the styles of both the Air Nomads and the Fire Nation, made specially for him once he’d let it slip that he’d fled the Southern Air Temple a hundred years before without even thinking to bring extra outfits. Sure, they didn’t seem to believe his protests that all Air Nomads were as avowedly nonviolent as him, but that was probably just because they hadn’t seen any proper monks or nuns of that lineage in a long time.

Roku had warned Aang that his descendants were under the sway of a dangerous delusion, that as things stood, they couldn’t ultimately be trusted to do the right thing by either him or the world even if they thought they were. That the task of restoring balance was, in the end, entrusted to him. But part of the young airbender was still tempted to wonder… could it be possible the old Avatar was just wrong somewhere? Maybe in the same sort of way the council had been when they planned to separate him from Gyatso? He was working with knowledge a hundred and twelve years out of date, after all.

Was he supposed to put his faith in the spirit of his past life, or the woman who seemed like she wanted to be the mother figure he’d never had?

Groaning at the weight of yet another conundrum heaped atop his back, the child Avatar buried his face in his long cylindrical pillow. Sleep would be a long time coming that night.

“Papa!” the excitement in Yue’s voice as the first guest stepped off the ship’s ramp was palpable. “Mama!”

The Royal Plaza’s docks were large enough that even the royal cutter, the largest one in the Northern Water Tribe’s fleet, looked a little undersized in them. The snow-haired princess, her fiancé, and a small entourage of fire and waterbenders stood waiting at the base of one such pier, the orange glow of the winter sunset framing the scene. The white and red robed noble girl raced forward, a bright smile around her face, and ran right into her mother’s waiting embrace.

“Yue,” the chieftain’s wife smiled as she pulled the girl in close, her black hair contrasting perfectly with her daughter’s white. “Darling, it’s been too long!”

“I’ll say!” the princess looked up from the muffled confines of the older woman’s chest as her father joined in on the embrace. “I told you that you should have come with me when I left last!”

“Getting the city ready to make do with no chieftain for almost two months is hard enough as it is,” Arnook said in a lighthearted tone. “You don’t want to pile even more work on your old man’s back, do you?”

“In this case…” the girl pretended to look thoughtful. “Mmmmm… maybe?”

Arnook, Xue, and their daughter all shared a brief chuckle before disentangling themselves, then backing up a few steps to give other high-ranking members of the northern delegation space to properly disembark.

“Uncle Utoq,” Yue smiled and gave a polite bow of her head as the lean-faced man who had negotiated her marriage all those years before stepped off the ramp.

“Princess Yue,” he returned her smile and bow. “Somehow, you’re looking even more radiant than last I saw you.”

“I haven’t been gone from the north pole for that long, uncle,” she giggled with a hand to her mouth, even as her cheeks went just a little pink.

“It’s still the truth,” he shrugged affably, still smiling pleasantly.

“Nice of you to say so,” she replied, briefly scrutinizing several other members of the tribal delegation filing off the cutter, maintaining a respectful distance from their royal family. “Aunt Suumi decided not to come?” the princess asked her mother’s brother, looking just a little disappointed.

“You know your new cousin’s still too young for such a long sea voyage,” Utoq replied. “And she just didn’t feel comfortable leaving a baby alone with your grandparents for that long.”

“…I guess that makes sense,” she nodded a little reluctantly. “Still a bit of a shame for her to miss out though.”

“Sometimes, you simply have to accept the will of the spirits isn’t what you hoped it would be,” Arnook counseled his daughter.

“Of course,” she nodded again, more deliberately his time. “Uncle, you’ve met my fiancé before,” Yue nodded once more at Utoq, then stepped to one side and gestured with both hands. “But Papa, Mama, I guess this will be your first audience with the Fire Lord.”

Evidently taking that as his cue, Zuko took a few steps forward to separate himself from his Imperial Firebenders. Arnook, Yue, Utoq, along with the other tribal notables in attendance, all pressed hands into palms and bowed their heads respectfully. With so many of lower rank in attendance, the young king didn’t return the bow, but he didn’t make them wait long for a quick nod and upward gesture of his hand.

“Welcome to our island,” he said in a tone of well-practiced beneficence as they looked up. “I’m glad to see that you’ve all made it safely here, and I hope your stay will be a pleasant one. Chief Arnook,” he nodded once at the north’s leader, “I’d like you and your immediate family to remain with me. For the rest you, follow your escorts to the carriages, please. They’ll see you to your residences.”

Obediently, several uniformed soldiers of the Domestic Forces stepped forward, and obediently the great and good of the Northern Water Tribe allowed themselves to be led away from the docks. It took just a little bit for them all to clear out, the assembled royalty waiting patiently as they did, but eventually the area around the royal cutter had been mostly empty.

“Alright, so we can be a little less formal now,” Zuko breathed, once it was just his future in-laws and their immediate bodyguards. He took several more steps towards the newcomers and extended one hand. “Chief Arnook, I’m glad you and your family could make it. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“A sentiment I share, Fire Lord Zuko,” he answered, grasping the proffered hand firmly in his own and shaking as one would with a fellow warrior. “But you didn’t ever seriously believe I would miss out on my own daughter’s wedding now, did you?”

“Of course not,” the king shook his head. “But you know…” he shrugged lightly as his hand was released. “Formalities.”

“We’ve heard so much about you, your majesty,” Xue told him as she too shook the teenager’s hand.

“Good things, I hope,” the Fire Lord replied. “And there’s no need for that right now. It’s a special occasion, after all.”

“Then I assure you, young man, our daughter’s been nothing but complimentary,” she told him, a light smile touching her face.

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “She’s always struck me as too honest for that.”

His fiancé put a hand to her mouth and giggled.

“No good lady of the Water Tribe would ever air her husband’s faults in public,” Arnook’s wife replied. “And we’ve raised the very best of them.”

“You can say that again.”

“Mama, Zuko, stop it. You’ll make me blush.”

He glanced over at her and grinned faintly. “Looks like it’s too late for that.”

“Zukooo…” the snow-haired girl dearly wished she had a fan to cover her face with but had to settle for one delicate hand instead. The way that her mother’s smile was echoing that of her betrothed only made the situation worse.

“Well, if you feel you must embarrass our daughter,” Arnook stepped in, “you should at least have the decency not to do it in the open, don’t you think?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Zuko nodded, then gestured behind them, to where another carriage awaited, nestled between twin rows of Imperial Firebenders.

Trailing long shadows in the setting sun, the small group of future in-laws set off from the docks, off towards the distant volcano and their palatial residence. As they went, neither the Fire Lord nor his bride-to-be noticed the subtle warrior’s hand signal one of the young princess’s personal bodyguards gave his chieftain, beckoning him to speak later, in private.

“So…” Sokka looked around the spacious but gloomy apartment, currently lit only by a single lantern. “Another night couped up by yourself, eh sis?”

“And if it is?” Katara replied, leaning against the opposite wall of the lounge. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, some of the older guys have got together, and we’re throwing a party down by-”

“Not interested.”

“…We’re swinging by the Flaming Turtlecrab later tonight,” he offered. “They’ve even got some pretty good Water Tribe food there. You’d know if you ever came outside the academy compound.”

“Water Tribe food from the north,” she all but spat.

“Where else are they supposed to get it from around here?”

“They shouldn’t have it at all. It belongs to us.”

Yeah, deny yourself something that tastes like home just to make a statement to nobody about who’s allowed to cook it. That makes perfect sense. Sokka let out a sigh, leaning against the wall behind him.

“You know, for someone who calls this place a prison, you sure seem determined to make it as much of one as you can.”

“Better to be honest about where you are than pretend that you’re at all free.”

“Are you serious? You’ve actually been on the inside of a Fire Nation jail!”

“And I barely noticed the difference.”

“Katara!” there was a note of concern in his voice. “That’s not funny! How do you think I felt when I heard my sister had been dragged off in handcuffs? How do you think Dad would feel if he heard about it? Why are you acting this way?”

“And why are you fraternizing with a bunch of rich traitors?” his sibling shot back.

Because he was a man. He was a warrior. That meant that he had to put his tribe first. Had to think of what was good for them. If that meant doing what had seemed unthinkable a short time before, even taking fighting advice from a girl, a firebending girl no less, then so be it. It was nothing less than his duty.

“Because I’m trying to make the best of our situation.”

“Yeah, I’m sure this faithless pack of weaselsnakes will just be so incredibly good for you,” she rolled her eyes. “Maybe they can teach you all about the fine art of licking the Fire Lord’s boots.”

“And what about what you’re doing is doing you any good? You think you’ll ever get a magic water master if you’re screaming insults at the princess of the one place that has them?”

“I won’t play the part of the Fire Lord’s pretty trinket like her!” the tribal girl clenched one determined fist. “I don’t care if those northern sea slugs hate me for telling the truth! I’d rather figure out waterbending on my own than stoop to betraying our heritage to get scraps from their table!”

“And if they hate you, they won’t help you, and we’re all just worse off than we were to start,” her brother glared irritably at her before sighing again. “Some of those guys come from provinces where single cities are bigger than all that’s left of our tribe,” he tried again. “And with lands that are a lot richer. If we make a good impression on them, their families could do a lot to help our tribe with rebuilding.”

“Help with rebuilding our tribe as the Fire Nation’s slaves, you mean,” she gave him a disdainful look. “What happened to the brave warrior who was ready to challenge the Fire Nation’s princess to a duel rather than just go quietly?”

“…He lost that duel,” the tribal boy admitted with some reluctance. “And had to consider what the consequences might be for the rest of his village if he didn’t think before acting.”

Katara looked at him strangely, hand on hip, saying nothing.

“Dad decided that this was the best thing to do for our tribe,” Sokka continued quietly. “And I still… want to keep my promise to him. I still want to protect everyone.”

“…Have you considered that Dad might have been wrong?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the young warrior asked with a slightly concerned expression.

“…Nothing,” his sister said after a moment, looking away from him. “Go on then. Go enjoy your party with your new friends. I’m not going.”

“Katara, yo-”

“And that’s final!” she cut him off.

“…Fine,” Sokka eventually sighed, turning to face the door. “Have fun here by yourself, I guess.”

“Don’t worry,” Katara muttered, turning her back on him and towards her bathroom, its large brass tub glinting in the lone lantern’s glow. “I will.”

“Is it true, Yue?” Arnook asked his daughter one night in one of the palace’s many guest chambers. “What I heard from Kousu? Those things Hakoda’s daughter said about our tribe? About you?”

The snow-haired princess looked down, saying nothing. Which really was all that needed to be said.

The little ingrate, the northern chieftain thought, lips pursed. My actions probably saved her father and her tribe, and certainly saved her own life, and this is how she treats my child?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” her father eventually asked. “By hawk, or when I first arrived?”

“…I didn’t want Katara to get into any more trouble,” Yue said quietly. “She’s been put through enough already.”

“And so, you chose to all but overlook dire insults to the honor of your family, of our tribe, and your own honor as well,” he gave her a disapproving frown. “From a girl who ought to have tripped over herself to kiss your feet, the brave princess who gave up her own home for the sake of not just its future, but that of our sister tribe as well.”

“Papa, she’s so young! Younger than me!” Yue clasped her hands together, looking up at her sire with pleading eyes. “She lost her Mama to the war when she was just a little girl, and now she’s had to leave her home behind to stay here. She’s confused and angry and lashing out. She doesn’t understand yet. But she will – she just needs space, and time. Don’t be too hard on her, please.”

“A ruler cannot rule with nothing but mercy, child,” Arnook replied. “If you’re ever to make any good impression on the tribal council, you must understand that. You are royalty, and you carry the honor of our entire nation with you. An insult to you is an insult to the entire Water Tribe.” His frown deepened. “And must be dealt with accordingly.”

“Papa, this is meant to be a happy time! Don’t go spoiling it by looking for payback against a fourteen-year-old girl. Please,” the princess implored.

“I have to consider the welfare of our tribe, daughter,” he shook his head. “If it becomes widely known that it and our family were so viciously disrespected by one of such negligible standing, and the consequences so minimal…”

“I know we have to be strong, to be respected, to stand up for our own dignity and that of our people,” she recited, as if by rote. “But… Katara’s fourteen, and not been trained to do more than a bit of surface-level first aid with her bending. The Southern Water Tribe is disarmed and occupied. They’re no threat. And they’re our sister tribe. Surely that has to count for something?” She looked deep into her father’s eyes. “Surely we can afford to be a bit magnanimous with those who already have so little?”

“It would be more than that girl deserves.”  

“Even so.” Even as her voice was quiet, the snow-haired girl’s blue eyes were wide. Imploring. “Please.”

“…Alright, child,” Arnook eventually looked away, lettting out a sigh. “Since it is a special occasion, and it is a matter concerning you directly, I’ll accede to your wishes on this issue.”

I probably do that more than I really should, he thought to himself. But ever since he had almost lost her as a baby, ever since his wife had been left unable to conceive again, it had been so hard to tell the precious girl no.

“I won’t pursue vengeance against Katara while she’s here, or when she returns to the south pole,” he continued.

“Thank you, Papa,” his daughter nodded gratefully, smiling at him.

“But…” here the chieftain’s face hardened, “that girl is forbidden from our city, forbidden from any of our waterbending secrets, until she comes to you on her knees and begs you for your forgiveness.” He looked his daughter square in the eye, and her face too grew visibly more serious. “Is that clear, Yue?”

“Yes,” the moon child nodded more deliberately.

“You’re not to pardon her until she does, understand?”

“Yes, father.”

“Princess Yue,” the words, spoken in a low monotone and accompanied by a respectful bow, were even quieter for the sheer vastness of the palace hall around them.

“Lady Mai,” the darker girl replied, nodding at her.

Azula’s gloomy friend held her bow for precisely as long as manners dictated that she ought, before resuming her full height. Her brown eyes met the northerner’s blue ones, and her expression remained passive.

“My father asked me to come here tonight,” Mai said flatly. “He wanted me to congratulate you on your wedding. So…” she paused, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Yue nodded at her again. “You can tell Lord Ukano that I’ll remember his well-wishes and appreciate them.”

“Mmmm…” the other girl’s expression was as flat as her tone. She stared at the foreigner for a few seconds. The foreigner stared right back.

“…You still wish it were you up there, don’t you?” the princess asked quietly.

The corner of Mai’s mouth twitched for a second time, and she took several steps forward, getting a bit further into Yue’s personal space than was strictly allowed, though the snow-haired girl held up one hand to ward off any of her nearby guardians.

“You had better appreciate what you have,” the noble girl leaned in close and said by way of answer, her voice barely audible. “You had better take care of him.”

The words, spoken in a perfectly polite if somewhat clipped tone, carried a whole new layer of meaning to one who had seen what Azula’s old classmate could do with her signature knives.

“I do,” the northerner vowed, placing one hand on her chest. “And I will.”

“Mmmm…” the dark-haired girl scrutinized her closely for a few seconds, gave a low sigh, and backed off a step or two. Arms folded into her sleeves, she looked down towards her own pointed shoes.

“I know it may seem a little hollow right now, but I appreciate your concern for him,” Yue said in a gentle tone. “Really, I do.”

You’re willing to risk getting into trouble with the guards just to protect his feelings, she thought. That says a lot.

“…You’re right,” she replied in her usual monotone. “It does.”

“Well… in any case, I hope you’ll find some happiness yourself, once your father assumes the governorship of Omashu,” Yue said, after a brief pause. “I hope you’ll have a pleasant stay there.”

“Probably not,” she replied in a perfectly matter-of-fact way. “But…” here she gave another low sigh, “thanks for the thought, I guess.”

Traditionally, in the run-up to the wedding Chief Arnook would have been seated across from the father of his future son-in-law. Or, if tragedy had struck, as it sometimes did in the frozen north, a close male relative who either had assumed guardianship or at least could have. The young man’s grandfather, perhaps. Sitting across from the Fire Lady Dowager instead felt disconcerting and unnatural, not the least because it left his own wife with no one directly across the low dinner table from her. Still, it wasn’t the first or worst breach of tradition circumstances had demanded he tolerate these last four years. Wealth, power, and military success, it turned out, covered a multitude of foreign faux pas, and the fifty-year-old man had had plenty of experience keeping a level head and tone anyway.

It was just the five of them that night, as it had been for the last several nights. In a concession to northern tradition, the parents of the couple and the couple themselves would get a small moment of separation from their wider families and clans to simply dine together and get a little better idea on a personal level of just who it was that they were committing their children to. In a densely populated city like the Water Tribe’s, where multiple generations of the same household often lived under the same roof and ties, blood and otherwise, in and in between various clans and families determined so much of daily life, alone time with ones own prospective in-laws was a rarer privilege than it might seem.

“And I couldn’t wash the violet dye out of her hair for almost a month afterwards!” Xue was saying. “The whole time, she just refused to let me cut it! Can you imagine the sight of that around the palace?”

“Mama!” Yue groaned from her place to her father’s right, directly across from Zuko. Her face had turned pink and her forehead was buried in her hands. Her fiancé, meanwhile, had covered his mouth with one hand and was visibly struggling not to laugh.

“Children can be very stubborn,” Ursa replied, smiling knowingly over at Xue, then glancing at her son. She leaned forward a few inches over the table. “Has Zuko ever told any of you about his first time in a komodo rhino stable?”

The young Fire Lord’s barely repressed grin vanished in the space of a heartbeat, his golden eyes darting over towards his own mother with a sudden look of trepidation.

“Maybe…” he coughed once into his hand before continuing in a low tone, “Maybe it’s best if they don’t hear that one.”

“Now now,” his regent grinned a little him. “Haven’t I taught you that it’s important to be fair to your guests?”

“But…” his pale face was already starting to turn crimson.

“And I’m sure dear Yue will be eager to hear about it,” Ursa continued, a twinkle in her eye.

Zuko let out a low moan, and if Arnook knew his daughter it was only her lady’s training that was keeping her from doing more than leaning eagerly forward over the table.

But more interesting to the chieftain than the details of the childhood story that the Fire lady began to recount was his future son-in-law himself. The light-skinned, dark-haired young man, who had suddenly taken a very great interest in his own plate of half-eaten food (the very idea of that was strange to Arnook, who had of course completely polished his own off), certainly looked the part of a handsome, charming royal husband, at least as far as southern men went. And neither Utoq, in his periodic capacity as ambassador, any of the waterbending guards who had for years watched over his daughter during her ever more frequent journeys abroad, nor Yue herself had ever reported any instances of him or his family mistreating her.

Eyes scrutinizing the young man as his head sunk deeper and deeper his hands, his face growing redder and redder, the head of the Northern Water Tribe had to admit that he hadn’t seen anything that particularly suggested that Zuko held any deep dark secrets, or that his affection toward Yue was at all feigned. And, whatever one chose to make of his soon-to-be son-in-law’s warlord lineage, it was a war that their two nations had shared now for almost half a decade. There was no point in imagining the worst of one only a few years removed from boyhood over it. And his and his family’s handling of the young Avatar that his sister had suddenly unearthed in the distant polar home of their sister tribe undoubtedly spoke well of their consideration for foreign guests. Still…

The most rational part of him supposed that it was only natural. He was, after all, her father, and he remembered all too easily how it had felt the first time he had thought he was about to lose his only child. Still, some deep, hidden part of him couldn’t quite shake an odd sense of foreboding.

For the Fire Lord’s own wedding, the Fire Nation’s capital had truly gone above and beyond. Brand new gold-trimmed flags of bright imperial red, with the jet-black trident flame symbol of the nation, hung everywhere, as did copies of the royal couple’s portrait. Long banners were stretched between buildings and over the crowded streets, many depicting long, sinuous dragons and fiery phoenixes with their tall crests. But there were also variants featuring the sun and the moon in an intricate, interlocking dance, or those of simple red with golden characters calling on the great spirits to bless the union, or the nation, or simply the whole world. Flowers too were everywhere in spite of the winter season, many beautiful varieties of rose, camellia, wisteria, cherry blossom, and of course the classic fire lily having been specially cultivated in tropical gardens and greenhouses just for the occasion. But perhaps the most prominent of all the decorations were the lanterns. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, artfully designed constructs of silk and paper alike, strung out throughout the streets of Caldera City. Many already blazed away merrily, and more were being lit by the countless firebenders in attendance with each passing minute as the sun slowly sank overhead.

Nor had the fact that today was also Princess Yue’s sixteenth birthday been forgotten. Though the bride herself had yet to arrive, being preoccupied along with her groom with her hair-combing ceremony, to be followed by the tea cerimony, the blue and white of her tribe was well represented, if less so than the host nation’s colors. Besides the requisite banners and flags, an especially popular choice was to alternate strings of lanterns in vivid red and shining gold with those of bright cobalt blue and pure white. Prayer flags to the spirits of moon and ocean hung beside those to that of the sun, and the smell of incense was strong around them.

Appropriately enough, there were people at this wedding from not just the Fire Nation, but the Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom too. Though the mostly light-skinned island folk constituted by far the majority of those in attendance, darker guests in the blue and purple cloth and white furs characteristic of the northerners were clearly visible down just about every street one cared to turn. Smallest in number were those in greens, browns, whites, and golds, but that was only relative to the sheer mass of those from the other nations. The one thing that absolutely everyone had in common was that nobody here was going to be caught dead out of their best clothes tonight. While waiting for the ceremony proper to get started, the guests had plenty of things with which to occupy themselves, ranging from poetry recitals to public theater (puppet or otherwise) to costumed or firebending dancers to even one or two performances of chanted northern ceremonial ballads and accompanying waterbending spectacles.

There was food even before the food. Oranges, pomegranates, and red dates especially were in abundant supply in and around the spacious courtyard in which the main event was to take place – especially fortunate for the young vegetarian. Less formally, vendors hawked street food for what seemed like miles in every direction from that focal, most of it some variation of meat, fried dough, or sugary treat. Or all of the above. The capital’s many restaurants might be a little less lucky tonight, but many were still earning a pretty pinch of silver serving teas, wine, and small, light dishes designed more to whet the appetite than to satisfy it.

For Aang, who had only ever been to a foreign wedding once in his young life – an Earth Kingdom one over in Omashu, while accompanying Gyatso on a trip – the experience was more than a little bit overwhelming. So many people, orders of magnitude more than there had been at the last one, and even with the abundance of distractions available so many of them wanted to talk to him. He was not only the Crown Princess’s own personal guest, but the Avatar besides and the first full-fledged airbender any of the foreign guests had ever seen. If it weren’t for the escorts that Azula had had the foresight to provide for his first true public event as the Avatar, he felt like he might just have had to hop onboard his glider and soar from rooftop to rooftop just to get anywhere.

Even so, it was almost enough to make the boy wish he’d opted for one of the Fire Nation outfits he’d been gifted with and a head covering, as she’d suggested.

“Hey, Lee,” Aang asked one of his pair of watchful Imperial Firebenders, as they wandered down yet another crowded street, passing the lemur on his shoulder one of his sweet, dried dates and trying not to pay attention to all the people pointing, staring, or whispering to one another as he passed. “The students from Sozin’s – they’ve been invited up here too, haven’t they?”

“That’s right,” the masked soldier nodded.

“Do you know where they might be?” the young airbender asked, in between munching on a piece of pitted fruit himself.

“No,” Lee shook his head. “But if you can wait a minute, I should be able to go find out.”

“Sure thing!” the boy nodded cheerfully.

The trio stopped right at the edge of a wide, lantern-lit public square, in the center of which two pairs of dancers were performing with two large, stylized costume-puppets, one of a dragon and one of a phoenix. With the vibrant, lively street performance drawing the eyes of most of those in the immediate area, it was the perfect chance for Lee to slip away and make contact with one of the many soldiers of the Domestic Forces on patrol this evening. Meanwhile, the Avatar and his remaining guard, Saon, took the opportunity to enjoy the show for a few minutes, the boy continuing to snack as they did. He even offered the guard a few of his dates, which the helmeted firebender quietly accepted and scarfed down once he’d made sure his more uptight partner wasn’t in the immediate vicinity.

It took Lee a couple of minutes to gather the information that he was looking for and make his way back to the other two benders in their little party, by which time the vibrant costumed dance was still ongoing. Aang was briefly tempted to stay and see it through to the end but decided that with so many people packed into the streets of Caldera there was no telling how long anyone would remain in any one place, or how easy it might be to find them again amidst the twilight crowd.

With Azula’s guardians on point, the trio made relatively good time through the masses of wedding guests and Caldera citizens, heading to an outdoor restaurant a few blocks over, at which a number of foreign students from the Sozin Academy had apparently been gathered. Sure enough, once they arrived on the crowded street, they found a number of well-dressed teenagers and one or two escorting chaperones kneeling around a number of low-lying tables, with various drinks and hors d’oeuvres set out in front of them. The young boy’s grey eyes scanned quickly through them, before locating exactly what he sought at an exclusive table on the restaurant’s far edge.

When he found them, Sokka was chewing thoughtfully on some kind of reddish meat on a stick, blue eyes repeatedly wandering back to a portrait of Yue hanging from a nearby rooftop in spite of his seeming efforts not to. Katara, meanwhile, was staring down at a mug of steaming tea set out before her with a sour expression on her face. Both wore what he took to be their best clothes, though the blue outfits paled in comparison to some of those displayed by their northern kinsfolk.

“Hi Katara! Hi Sokka!” Aang raised one hand in greeting as he emerged from the surrounding stream of people, waving cheerfully.

“Hey Aang,” Sokka waved back at the approaching airbender after swallowing. “Have you tried the glazed hippobeef here?” he held up one half-eaten meaty stick. “I gotta hand it to ‘em, it’s pretty good.”

The airbender coughed a little awkwardly. “…Vegetarian, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Sokka blinked. “Forgot about that.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. “Want some of my dates though? They’re pretty good themselves.”

“Sure thing,” the young tribal nodded, and the bald child tossed him a handful from the bag he carried.

“Katara, you want any?”

“No,” the girl replied curtly, still not looking up from her tea. Her brother gave her a brief, irritated side eye before returning his focus to Aang.

“So,” Sokka asked. “What brings you here? I figured Azula would want you up there with her family tonight.”

“Princess Azula,” Lee corrected the young man, folding his arms in front of his armored chest.

“Right… Princess Azula,” his glare was briefly turned towards the boy’s escort, though he still nodded.

“Oh, she does,” he returned the nod. “Buuut…”

“But what?” Hakoda’s son raised one eyebrow, taking another bite from his skewer.

“I just found out earlier today – there’s going to be a royal dance after the wedding ceremony,” Aang explained to the southern siblings. “I got invited, but it’s a couple’s dance, and I don’t have anyone to go with, soooo…” he trailed off again, his face now an odd combination of nervousness and anticipation, “Would you like to go with me, Katara?”

Katara’s blue eyes went first to Aang, where they remained for just a moment, before wandering over to the two royal guards that were doing more to keep the space immediately around them clear rather than anything to keep the child contained. Her brow furrowed, her lips curled, and the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe turned her face slowly and deliberately away from the airbender, saying nothing.

The young Avatar’s face fell. Her brother, still chewing, just looked exasperated.

“Oh… alright then,” the boy didn’t try too hard to keep the disappointment from his tone, but he could at least take a hint. “I guess you’ve got other things you’d rather be doing, I understand,” he swallowed once, half turning away with another quick wave, before suddenly swiveling back around and brightening up a fraction. “If you change your mind, you can find me-”

“I won’t,” the waterbender cut him off, her tone of voice low.

“Katara!” her brother all but snapped, now frowning visibly at her.

“No, it’s… alright,” he held up a hand to forestall any further protest from the young warrior. “I don’t want to impose.”

With his presence clearly unwanted by the young southern girl and likely to result in some kind of argument with her sibling if he stayed, the child Avatar chose to retreat back into the river of people flowing through the capital’s streets, twin guards in tow. He wandered hither and yon for a few minutes, slowly feeding Momo from his bag of fruits but no longer feeling much of an appetite himself. He still had more than an hour to go before his presence was expected anywhere in particular, and so eventually found himself leaning against a tree in a public park, halfheartedly watching as a quintet of elaborately dressed firebending women performed a synchronized dance routine for a small crowd of locals and guests alike.

“Aang!” a cheerful, familiar voice suddenly rang out from behind him. “Good to see you here!”

“Oh!” a bit of life returned to the airbender’s face as he turned around, returning the newcomer’s wave as she hopped nimbly down from a nearby branch, seemingly unhindered by her fancier than usual outfit. “Hiya Ty Lee!”

The ceremony was… involved.

Zuko supposed, on some level, that that was natural. This was, after all, the first marriage of a Fire Lord since Grandfather Azulon had wed Grandmother Ilah more than five decades ago, long before most of Caldera City, to say nothing of their guests from the wider Fire Nation and the world beyond, had even been born. It was unlikely that such an event would happen again in the lifetime of anyone present because it was more traditional for royal heirs to be married off while still a Fire Prince, as Dad and Uncle had been. It was therefore to be expected that the nation would want this literal once-in-a-lifetime event to be a memorable one.

And memorable it certainly was. After the many and intricate preparatory ceremonies that took place within the walls of the palace itself throughout the bulk of the afternoon, the wedding officially began with a long procession from the palace to the enclosed courtyard where the actual joining was to take place. First it was him, to be met by the Fire Sages, and the blessings of Agni on his progeny duly, publicly reaffirmed under the light of a setting sun. After that, Yue made her arrival, whereupon the wise men of her homeland confirmed the continuing approval of Tui, whose mark she still bore. Then she was presented to the sages, who read the omens amidst the blazing coals in the heart of a venerable brazier of antique bronze, before loudly announcing her to be free of impurity, and worthy to be joined to the divine lineage of the empire’s foremost patron. Then, and only then, was the northern princess allowed to join her groom on the steps of the raised pavilion.

But that didn’t mean that the rituals and invocations were over, not by a long shot. The Fire Sages, with the recently promoted High Sage Zinou at their head, naturally took the lead here. The bride and groom paid due public reverence to the Sun Father as he sank below the horizon, seeking his blessings for a long and happy marriage, abundant fertility, and bountiful prosperity upon their land in the appropriate, well-rehearsed ritual fashion. And after that it was time to similarly implore the spirits of great Fire Lords past – of which had there been any more chosen it might have constituted the young man’s entire genealogy – ending with that of Azulon himself, to smile upon their descendant and grant to him their strength and wisdom, that he might serve ably as his family’s head even as he would for his nation. And after that, prayers were said to the spirit of their land, and of the volcano in which they all lived, asking that they too watch over and bless this union. By the time all of that was done, the sun had finished setting, leaving the courtyard illuminated by strings of lanterns and braziers, mingling with the emerging silvery light of Tui.

Yue’s birthday had happened to coincide with a full moon this year, which Zuko chose to view as providential. So had at least some of the men behind the next, rather less orthodox, part of this whole affair. In a move that had certainly had no precedent since the war began a century earlier, and probably not for many centuries before that, sages from the Northern Water Tribe were permitted to come forward, to publicly implore the watchful moon spirit to gift the young couple long lives, abundant happiness, and many children, and even to mark the foreheads of the Fire Lord and their own princess with signs drawn in water apparently drawn from some sacred pool to the far north. These invisible symbols duly applied, the tribesmen retreated from the pavilion, to be replaced by first the Fire Sages, and more distantly the couple’s three surviving parents.

Then, finally – finally – it was time for the actual joining to take place. High Sage Zinou read aloud the sacred words from the same meticulously preserved scroll that had served generations of Zuko’s family before him, his voice clear and strong in spite of his advancing age. As he did, the couple slowly, deliberately turned their faces away from the audience, symbolically reducing their whole worlds to the sight of one another.

Now directly in front of him, Yue wore a light, fur-edged silken dress in a southern adaptation of the northern style – an absolute necessity considering an actual traditional wedding gown from her homeland would have absolutely cooked his poor bride alive in the Fire Isles’ heat. The pale blues and crisp whites of it contrasted the vivid shades of red and gold and black that made up the young king’s own outfit as well as its designers had assured him that they would. Or at least he thought they did, and who was there to tell him otherwise?

Standing a few feet behind and to the side of Yue, Zuko could see her mother staring at the girl with her hands clutched in front of her, a warm smile on her face. His bride’s father, by contrast, wore a level and almost pensive expression. Arnook’s sharp blue eyes quickly caught Zuko’s golden gaze on him, but simply continued to stare impassively at the teenager until his attention returned to the snow-haired princess. From where he stood the Fire Lord couldn’t see Mom, who was standing almost directly behind him, or Azula, or Uncle, who were seated at a table to the pavilion’s right-hand side, but he could nonetheless all but feel their gaze upon him.

The Fire Lord could feel his heartbeat speeding up as he heard the order’s head approaching the culmination of the sacred ceremony. This was it. This was really it. A moment that the two of them had been building up to for the last four years. A moment that would define the remainder of his life and his reign. When another sage approached, bearing a wooden box to crack open and offer the two, in spite of all his training he had to briefly fight to keep his expression under control.

Fire Lord Zuko and Princess Yue clutched a vivid red silken cord between them, each grasping it firmly with their right hands as they stared into one another’s eyes.

“Do you now so swear?” Zinou asked, at last looking up from his relic.

“I vow, in the sight of Agni and my ancestors,” Zuko replied promptly, doing his absolute best to project firmness and conviction in his voice, “to honor, to love, and to care for you as my Fire Lady. To be loyal to you all the days of my life. Come sickness, come health, come sorrow, come joy, I will face it as your husband.”

“And do you now so swear?”

“I vow, in the sight of Tui and my ancestors,” Yue said immediately, “to honor, to love, and to obey you as my Fire Lord. To be loyal to you all the days of my life. Come sickness, come health, come sorrow, come joy, I will face it as your wife.”

“Then by the will of the spirits that watch over us all,” the Fire Sage dipped his head, “you are joined as man and wife.”

In perfect, practiced unison, the young couple released the red silk to fall gently to the floor beneath them, before taking one synchronized step towards one another. Zuko’s right hand clasped Yue’s left in a firm grip, and as they turned as one to face the crowd, the Fire Lord at last allowed the smile inside to show on his face.

The bride and groom raised their hands together, and courtyard was swiftly filled with thunderous applause.

It was late, late into the night, far later than anyone respectable in Caldera City would normally be seen out of doors, and yet the wedding celebrations had kept going. And going. And going. And going. There were, after all, several hundred guests, many of whom had travelled hundreds of miles to be here, and all of whom wanted some of the happy couple’s time and attention.

Fire Lady Yue had, if she was honest, lost track of how exactly how many lords, ladies, ministers, officers, rural gentry, bureaucrats, and merchant princes she and Zuko had met exchanged pleasantries with that night several hours previously. Everyone from clan heads from her own Water Tribe to itinerant captains of trading fleets to high officers from the war council to  delegates from all around Earth Kingdom – even the fiercely independent sandbending tribes of the southern deserts and the reclusive straw-haired peoples from the northern mountains – had come before her and her husband, bearing gifts and well-wishes, along with ideas, plans, suggestions, and pleas presented with varying degrees of subtlety. It may have been the bowls of rice wine she’d slowly sipped down over the hours, but the snow-haired bride felt sure she was now the proud owner of more silk, gold, and perfume than she could reasonably be expected to wear in a human lifetime.

It may have been the ache of a stomach burdened with hours worthy of dainty bites piling on top of one another like tiny snowflakes building up into an avalanche. It may have been the several varieties of alcohol she’d been too excited or simply polite to turn down at the time. It may have been that she’d been awake for something approaching sixteen or seventeen hours through feasting and dancing and fireworks and more at this point, if the position of the moon overhead was any guide. Or it may simply have been all of those things at once. But whatever it was, her usual refined, ladylike poise was beginning to slip. Her movements were just a shade slower and jerkier, her usual polite and pleasant expression sagging just a few degrees. It was, naturally enough, her new husband who noticed first.

“You need a minute?” Zuko whispered into her ear, once a certain Duke Heichao and his wife had been duly thanked for their chest of rare, aromatic teas and spices, and we being led off to the side.

“It’d… be good,” she replied, just as quietly.

“There’s an officers’ lounge up the stairs and to the left, three doors down,” her husband told her. “They’re saying it’s pretty empty right now, and the guards won’t let anyone not from the military or royal family inside. You could probably catch your breath there for a few minutes.”

Yue looked uncomfortably out at the line of guests, petitioners, and/or well-wishers still forming an impromptu line just far enough from their table to be polite. In spite of all the people they’d already greeted, it still snaked all the way through the ceremonial courtyard and out into the capital street beyond. Scores of men and women from all across the world were still waiting patiently for their chance.

“You don’t mind?” she asked, frowning a little.

“I can hold them off for a few minutes for you,” he grinned slightly. “Just be sure to get back before the holding action turns into a last stand.”

The northerner giggled under her breath. “I will,” she promised, leaning over to kiss him appreciatively on the cheek.

With that, Yue rose from her cushion, turned, and, before the next set of guests could arrive at their table, made briskly for the doorway that the Fire Lord had indicated. Four guards, two firebenders and two waterbenders, peeled off after her, the small escort positioning itself pointedly between the new bride and anyone from the winding line who might be getting ideas about following her. Whatever chance the guests had to do so quickly passed them by, for in spite of her weariness the girl wasted little time in passing through the portal into the building complex surrounding the wedding courtyard.

Once inside, everything immediately became considerably quieter, as most anyone inclined to stay purely for the sake of revelry had already gone home by this hour. That, or else passed out somewhere.

Wasting little time, Yue made her way to the nearest set of stairs, hiked up her trailing wedding dress, and made her way up the twin flights. Once she’d made it up, it was just a matter of heading straight for the nearby doorway with guards posted in front of it. The two masked firebenders stationed outside quickly snapped to attention from where they had been leaning against the wall, offering their Fire Lady a quick salute. When she stopped immediately before them, one of them reached over and opened the door ahead of her. Nodding in wordless thanks, the moon child passed between them and straight into the officer’s lounge.

There was someone else already here.

The man was clad in an officer’s best dress uniform, his clothes neatly pressed and free of wrinkles, his armor polished to fine sheen that, in Tui’s silvery light, leant it an almost ethereal aspect. The room’s other occupant had been standing outside on a balcony overlooking the courtyard’s hanging lanterns, hands folded neatly behind his back, but turned to face her virtually the moment the lounge’s wooden door creaked open.

Yue recognized the naval officer that was shortly to command the small fleet tasked with escorting their royal sloop to the north pole, for she and Zuko’s first official state visit. As she’d heard it in court, that position had been a hotly contested one within the navy. The eventual winner had apparently had to call in quite a few favors from friends among the admiralty to get himself placed right next to the Fire Lord during his literal honeymoon period.

“Lady Yue,” the noble-born officer said, pressing his fist into his palm and bowing respectfully. “It’s an unexpected honor to see you in person tonight. I hadn’t thought I’d get the chance.”

“Likewise. It’s a pleasure,” she replied, taking a few steps forward and seating herself gently on an empty couch. She closed her eyes momentarily, allowing herself to take several prolonged, steadying breaths.

Part of her wouldn’t mind dozing off right here, but she still had two duties to accomplish before the night was through. One, at least, promised to be enjoyable.

“You might have heard this one too many times already for your own liking, but still,” she opened her eyes to see that there was a slight, wry edge to his smile as he looked down at her. “My congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you very much,” the newly minted Fire Lady forced a smile and nodded politely at him, while her guards closed the door softly behind them. “Commander Zhao.”

Chapter Text

The Fire Nation’s Royal Harbor was abuzz with activity. Dock workers and sailors alike scurried to and fro, working tirelessly to make ready a number of vessels, ranging from metal steamships to elegant wooden barques that were the hallmark of many a foreign aristocrat. After weeks of travel and the prolonged celebrations that attended a royal wedding, not a few such guests were more than eager to begin their return journeys just as soon as politeness permitted. But no ships were permitted to leave the harbor yet, and the reason why was making its way unhurriedly down the red flagstones of the harbor’s processional.

The Fire Lord and Lady must not be obstructed by any of their inferiors, no matter how eager they might be to be off.

Guarded on either side by twin rows of soldiers from the Royal Procession, one of the Fire Lord’s larger palanquins was being carried towards the harbor’s centermost pier, where a refined-looking pleasure craft waited to bear its occupants away to a short sojourn on Ember Island. Zuko himself sat crossed legged and straight backed in the dead center of palanquin, with Yue posed likewise at his right hand. Unusually, the semitransparent curtains had been drawn back giving the common people a rare chance to get a close look at the young man that they ultimately all served. Unsurprisingly, they had turned out in their thousands.

Cheering crowds of Fire Nation commoners lined either side of the processional, voices swelling or lowering as their king passed by. Some clapped, some waved, some even held up young children in their liege’s direction, as though hoping that they might thereby win a blessing from the divine forefather shining down from on high. Flower petals, whole flowers, and silk ribbons, largely thrown by the younger women in the crowd, littered the pathway.

It was, if protocol had permitted Zuko to express his honest opinion, a bit much just to see off a young newlywed who hadn’t even come into his full authority yet. When the masses cheered, his first impulse would have been to settle them down. When they waved, his instinctive reaction would have been to wave back. But years of Mom’s lessons in protocol had taught him better. The Fire Lord was more than a man, he was an icon, a living link to the ancient spirit the nation revered above all others, the origin of all firebending, and thus the bearer of a divine right to rule. The Dragon Throne’s occupant was considered by their culture to be little less than an outright demigod, and thus could not be seen to place himself on the same level as his subjects any more than a man’s head should be level with his waist.

So, the Fire Lord didn’t signal the crowds to be quiet, didn’t wave back at them. Instead, he let them see what they wanted to see. As they went, Zuko turned his head slowly from one side of the processional to the other, always maintaining immaculate posture, and favored his people with a well-practiced benevolent smile. He kept his gaze focus on them, kept his expression composed and lordly, showing no traces of all the long nights of eating, drinking, and celebrations. His wife, insofar as he could see in the brief glimpses of her that his golden eyes were able to steal, was doing her best to make a good impression by following his lead.

So it went, and so they proceeded, until at last the palanquin reached the central pier itself, which had already been cleared and sealed off by more royal guards. Even then, they couldn’t relax just yet, having to maintain perfect poise and posture as long as they remained visible to the people. As they were carried further and further out onto the water, with the crowds out of the way the two newlyweds could clearly see another dock where the royal sloop Crown of Fire was undergoing routine inspection and maintenance in preparation for its upcoming prolonged voyage to the north pole. But that particular behemoth wouldn’t be shipping out for a little while yet. For this particular journey, a smaller, more intimate ship was to be used. In the meantime, that expedition’s ranking officer could just barely be made out on royal ship’s deck from this distance. Considering the immense honor with which he was being bestowed, it was only right that Commander Zhao had opted to supervise the dockyards’ work in person.

“No, no,” Ty Lee shook her head once, frowning slightly. “You’ve gotta jab here, see?” she poked the stuffed training dummy just above the shoulder joint. “If you hit somebody much lower, then you’ll miss the pressure point. All that’ll do is annoy ‘em.”

“Hey, jumping over somebody and hitting the exact right spot isn’t as easy as you make it look!” Aang defended himself. “If you’d let me practice more standing still…”

“Well, it’s not like anybody’s just gonna stand still and let you take them down,” she put a hand on her hip. “You’re the one who told me you wanted to learn this stuff in case you ever had to actually fight.”

“Well, yeah…”

“And besides, you’ve got it easier that me,” the circus performer griped a little herself. “You’ve got airbending to jump with, and I’ve just got my legs.” She tensed, then backflipped over the dummy, striking its back with two precise, lightning-fast jabs before striking the ground. “And I can still do it, see? You just gotta put in the effort.” She put one hand on her hip. “Now let’s see you do it again.”

“…Alright,” the young boy sighed once, then rocketed upwards in a sudden burst of air.

Ty Lee’s grey eyes tracked the airbender as he arced, then fell gracefully back towards the earth, giving his target one quick two-finger poke near the base of its neck.

“You’d probably be easy to chi block yourself,” the brown-haired girl observed as he landed. “You’ve got those arrows just telling the whole world where your chi flows are.”

Aang rose to his feet, looking mildly annoyed. “I told you, they’re sacred tattoos awarded to master airbenders!”

“They still tell me where all your chi is.”

“Well anyway,” he shook his head. “How’d I do that time?”

“A bit better,” she tried to sound a bit more encouraging. “But you still need to aim just a liiiitle bit higher if you want to hit the point where most people’s chi flows in that area are.”

“It’s harder than it looks,” he repeated in a low voice.

“And your form still needs some work,” she continued. “Remember, this style’s all about precision of movement.”

“Why don’t we take a break for a little bit?” Azula’s guest suggested. “Go get some ice cream or something?”

“I mean… I love ice cream, but exercising on a full stomach’s a bad idea,” she thought about it for a second. “How about this? We work a bit more on the basics of your form, and then we go get some ice cream?”

“Mmmm…” his face perked up a bit. “Okay, sure!”

“Alright, just follow along and do what I do.

Falling back into a beginner’s fighting stance, Ty Lee began working her way through the most elementary moves of chi blocking, the ones she’d first learned in the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. As he had done numerous times before in the preceding weeks, Aang fell into step right beside her, copying her movements one for one. She guided him through the motions with a well-practiced grace, each step and jab feeling as entirely natural to her, every bit as much an expression of her being as her circus performance was. It was as if she had been born to do this.

“You know, it’s sorta like when we danced together,” the Avatar observed after a few minutes of silent mimicry.

“I mean…” the circus girl cocked her head, “I can sorta see where you’re coming from, I guess.”

Their little practice sequence went on for a few minutes longer, the noble girl turned circus acrobat drilling the young Avatar in the basics of how to quickly close the distance with a hypothetical attacker and paralyze them with a few quick, well-aimed strikes. His form still wasn’t quite up to snuff, in her opinion. Even though he had the speed and agility for it, his aim still needed some work. It might have had something to do with the way he kept disrupting his own focus by stealing side glances at her.

Eventually, though, they’d run through the basics as a duo from front to back, back to front, and then whatever order the acrobat happened to feel like at the moment. It was a good little bit of martial exercise, and certainly enough to work up a sweat.

“Whew,” Aang wiped his forehead when they’d finished. “Now I could really go for some ice cream.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ty Lee nodded. “Yin Ree’s place is still open, let’s head there.”

“I’m game,” the airbender grinned, picked up his staff from where it lay resting, and the two started walking together. “After we eat, you wanna go for another ride on Appa? He’d be happy to see you again.”

“Sorry,” she shook her head as they passed through the circus tent’s exit. “But after this I’m gonna need to wander on back over here. Gotta get ready for the show tonight, you know?”

“Okay, I get it,” he nodded. “What about tomorrow, then?”

The young woman winced slightly at that reminder. “Tomorrow’s… tomorrow’s probably not going to work for me either,” she confessed.

“Oh, why not? You’ve got plans already?”

“Tomorrow… tomorrow’s the day I’m going to have to start helping the circus to pack up.”

“Pack up?” his grey eyes widened. “You’re leaving already?”

“Circus Master Kai says we’re going to have to get going once the last of the boats have left the harbor,” Ty Lee said apologetically. “Most of the wedding guests that don’t live here have gone home, and the folks around the capital usually tend towards a bit more highbrow forms of entertainment. Business will probably dry up just as soon as the novelty of us wears off. He thinks we’re going to need to head back across the ocean, back to our usual routes through the colonies.”

“Oh…” Aang’s face fell a little.

“Yeah,” the acrobat scratched the back of her head a little awkwardly and looked down at her slippers. “Sorry I didn’t mention it until now, but… time just flies by you sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah…” the monk sounded a bit more melancholy than she’d expected, fidgeting a little with the glider in his hands.

“You could always come see the show over in the colonies, you know?” she offered.

“I’m not sure that – hang on,” he blinked, as though he’d just thought of something. “Maybe Azula could help us out?” the airbender ventured, a note of optimism quickly returning to his tone. “If the Crown Princess and the Avatar are still interested in your circus… that’d keep the crowds coming, right?” Two pairs of grey eyes met. “You could stay longer?”

“Hmmm…” Ty Lee tapped one finger on her chin, considering it. “You know… that might just work. Royals are big-time trendsetters all around Caldera.”

“Great!” the boy’s features lit up. “You could talk to your troupe master about it, and I could talk to Azula. I’m sure they’ll both go for it!”

“I think they just might,” the acrobat returned his smile.

“You’ve done well in handling Aang,” Ursa said one sunny afternoon in the Fire Lord’s office. “Very well. Another expedition commander might have leapt to attack before understanding. But you played the situation just right from the very beginning.” She smiled warmly at her daughter. “I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Friendly, cool, collected – and a drake within,” Azula smiled right back. “Now we know his weakness, we are sure to win.”

“Well, yes, but… I also meant on a personal level,” the older woman replied. “The boy seems to be having a good time here.”

“Well… that too,” she shrugged a little. “But that’s a benefit to our nation as well. The better a time he has, the more he likes us and our home, the more attachments he forms here…”

“The more likely he is to want to stay,” her mother finished, still smiling faintly. “After all, what else is out there for him? A life alone and on the run? Another nation that would attempt to press a child into fighting for its doomed cause?”

“Don’t forget a people long since absorbed into ours.”

By dint of many long years of practice, Ursa kept the discomfort that reminder brought up well away from her face.

“…If what you suspect about Ty Lee is true,” the regent said aloud, “then I don’t know what else to call your childhood friendship with her but destiny at work.”

“Father always did say I was born lucky,” she replied, causing a slight crease in her mother’s brow. “He was right about that, at least.”

“I suppose,” the other woman conceded, not really knowing how else it was possible to describe someone who had simply found the Avatar on her first expedition without even intending to, then peacefully retrieved him. “But while we’re on the subject of Aang’s relationship with us, I had had an idea I’d been toying with, and I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“Oh?”

“I was thinking,” she said, sitting back in her chair and folding her long-nailed hands in her lap, “that while Aang might still be a child, he’s a child that was born a hundred and twelve years ago. This Gyatso, and anyone else who might have played a parental role in his life, have long since faded into the mists of time. But a child so young still needs a parent involved if they’re to grow up right. And that goes double for a child as important to the world’s future as the Avatar.”

The princess raised an expectant eyebrow.

“With that in mind, I was considering offering him… adoption,” Ursa said.

Not into the royal family, of course. That was utterly impossible. The sacred bloodline of Agni could not be transferred by mere legalities, and its preservation was utterly essential to the Fire Nation’s continued prosperity. But Ursa’s own ancestral house, that of Ta Min and Roku, had no such restrictions on its membership.

“It’d be like… if you had remarried,” Azula said slowly, one hand on her chin and a slight crease on her brow. “And Zuzu and I had a half-brother.”

“Yes,” the Fire Lady nodded.

“And you think you’ll have the time for mothering a hyperactive twelve-year-old? The energy?”

“I did it twice before,” her mother pointed out.

“When you were younger and more energetic yourself.”

Ursa chuckled. “I’m not that much older now, Azula. I’ll only be forty-two this coming spring.”

“Your position’s aged you, Mom,” Azula ran one finger along the length of one of her own, still perfect, youthful, cheeks. “I can tell.”

“I’ll admit that stress can wear a body out,” the regent said, picturing the mild but visible sinking in her cheeks that she saw every morning in the mirror. “But I’m hardly decrepit.” 

“If you say so,” her daughter replied, with just a hint of teasing in her tone.

“And besides, in only a few months the war will be over, and with it so many ongoing headaches. And a few months after that, I’ll be stepping down from this role. My life is going to become a lot simpler and easier by the end of next year. I’ll have a lot more time to devote to taking care of one last child.”

“I’m sure you’re going to want to stay on as an advisor, to help Zuzu manage a smooth transition,” the princess pointed out, then smirked slightly. “Don’t want him looking fifty at twenty-five, do you?”

“Azula,” Ursa chided her with a shake of her head, the faux irritation in her voice blatantly insincere. “Your brother’s about to feel the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. Please try not to add to his burdens.”

“…I make no promises,” Azula’s deep golden eyes seemed to twinkle, the corner of her mouth turning up.

The Fire Lady shook her head again. “Well, regardless, you’re right that I’ll stay for as long as my Fire Lord wishes, but I don’t think I’ll be nearly so busy as I am now. Zuko won’t want his mother whispering into his ear on the throne or second-guessing his every decision. You know as well as I do that it wouldn’t be a good look to start his reign.”

“Fair enough,” the girl shrugged a little.

“So, I think I’ll have plenty of time to look after Aang, especially after the war’s conclusion,” she reasoned. “If this idea was something we decided to pursue.”

“We?”

“He’d become part of your family as well if we did this – even more than he already is as your ancestor’s reincarnation. I wouldn’t want to do something like that without hearing how you would feel about it first.”

“I honestly didn’t think you’d be prepared to go as far as this,” Azula frankly confessed. “I… don’t really know what to think. Have you talked about this to anyone else?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I wanted to see what you’d think about the idea first,” the Fire Lady said. “Of all of us, you’ve known Aang the longest. You have the best insight as to whether that would suit him… and you.”

“Hmmm…” her daughter looked contemplative. “The Avatar, adoptive brother to the royal family? It’s an… interesting concept. Give me time, I need to consider it.”

“Of course,” Ursa nodded. “Take all the time you need. I want your honest opinion. And I’d want to see what your brother thinks about it too before I actually do anything. For now, it’s only an idea.”

“How come I have to put this stuff on every time, but you don’t?” Yue complained over her shoulder, rubbing the stark white mineral lotion up and down her arm in the comfort of their beach house. “My skin’s darker than yours, and I’m still the one who turns pink if I stay out in the sun too long.”

“Firebenders don’t sunburn,” Zuko shrugged from behind her. “It just doesn’t happen. Not even to patrols in the Si Wong Desert.”

“You can stay warm in the winter, not be bothered by the summer heat, dry off whenever you want, and you don’t have to rub yourself down to stay outside all day. It’s not fair,” the new Fire Lady crossed her arms and gave a little pout. “Firebenders have all the luck.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Ursa’s son walked up directly behind her and leaned over the top of her shoulder. “Seems to me that you might have some luck of your own today.”

“Oh yeah?” she turned her head to face him, raising one snow-white eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’ve got an excuse to get someone to rub it all over your back for you,” he told her, a hint of a sly grin touching the corner of his mouth.

“Hmmm…” the northerner tapped one finger on the point of her chin, pretending to think about it. Finally, she gave an exaggerated shrug of her own. “Well, if you insist…”

“You know what? I think I do.”

“Then I guess I can’t really say no, can I?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, picking up the lotion from the table where she’d placed it.

Almost as soon as the princess had laid stomach down on the nearby sofa, she felt warm hands making their slow, gentle way down the back of her neck.

Maybe I am the lucky one, she conceded.

As cute as Yue was with the braids and hair loops she’d worn since the first day he’d met her, if Zuko were to be entirely honest, he thought his bride looked even better with her white hair long and flowing. And sitting atop a wooden surfboard during a lull in the waves wasn’t a bad place to get a good view of it as she paddled by, doing a lazy backstroke. It would have been even better if her feet hadn’t been kicking up such a splash.

“Hey!” the Fire Lord called out as he was showered by seawater, holding up one arm to protect his face. “Watch it!”

The northern princess blinked, paused, and turned her head slightly towards him. Then half a second later she gave an impish grin and resumed her backstroke, now kicking twice as hard as before. Rather than the straight line in which she had been swimming, she now started making a long loop centered around her husband’s long redwood surfboard.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, is it?” Zuko’s frown was accompanied by a slight smirk, as the droplets landing all over his body began to sizzle and hiss. “Alright, fine. Just remember that you asked for it.”

Taking advantage of the momentarily calm sea, the young king stood up with only a single quick stumble, tensed up, and sprang headlong into the air. Twin bursts of bright yellow fire from his feet carried him far higher into the air than should have been possible with such a shaky start. As he reached the apex of his leap, Zuko tucked his legs in and wrapped his arms around them. The ball he’d made of his body struck the water’s surface a few measly feet from where a suddenly wide-eyed Yue was swimming.

The Fire Lady was knocked off her back and plunged face-first into the sea by the force of the sudden impact. When Zuko reemerged a second or two later, he was treated to the sight of his wife’s head breaching the surface, long white hair a damp mop slapped over her face. She spat out a mouthful of sea water and glared at him with her one visible blue eye.

“If I were a waterbender, you’d be regretting that right about now,” she muttered darkly.

Her husband simply gave her an impish grin. She splashed him in the face, which did nothing at all to disrupt it.

“Come on, Zuko,” Yue said, a piece of grilled fish held in her chopsticks. “Say aaaah.”

“No,” the Fire Lord said flatly from across the small table.

“Come on. Please?”

“No,” he repeated.

“Why not?”

“It just feels so… undignified. Childish. Like I was still a kid or something.”

I know that men have their pride, Yue thought exasperatedly to herself. But over something this petty? Really?

“It’s tradition in the Northern Water Tribe for a new wife to feed her husband from her own plate,” she told him. “As a token of her pledge to be there for him, to care for him, to see to his needs as he sees to hers.”

That wasn’t actually true at all. Be he probably didn’t know that.

“It’d mean a lot to me if you’d follow our customs,” she continued. “And it’s something so small.”

“…That’s really a thing you do in your home?”

“Yes,” she lied. “All throughout the traditional post-wedding celebrations, in fact. In the case of royalty, those can last for weeks.”

“Weeks?” his golden eyes widened slightly. “And she just keeps doing that? Like, the whole time?”

“Mmm hmmm,” she nodded solemnly, having to fight the overwhelming urge to give the game away by giggling. “So, what I’m asking from you isn’t much by comparison, is it? We did things the Fire Nation way out in public. All I want is a little bit of time where we honor the Water Tribe’s customs by ourselves, in private.”

“Yue…” her husband still looked a little embarrassed by the prospect.

“Please?” she pleaded, making big, dewy eyes at him.

The Fire Lord’s gaze wavered momentarily, then he closed his eyes and let out a low groan, shaking his head just once.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You win this one.”

“Thank you, Zuko,” she replied, her voice the very epitome of feminine sweetness. The moon child raised her chopsticks once again. “Now, say aaaah.”

“Aaaah,” he intoned reluctantly, opening his mouth.

Works every time, Yue grinned.

One of the privileges of being royalty lay in the avoidance of inconvenient, unnecessary trips. When Zuko and Yue’s time on the Ember Island estate that had once belonged to his father was done, they had no need to return to the capital to set off on their journey to the tribal princess’s frozen homeland. The Crown of Fire simply came to them.

She was, of course, far and away too large for the deliberately modest-sized docks of the island itself to handle, but that was only a minor obstacle. Like any even remotely modern warship of the Fire Navy, the sloop was equipped with a stern-mounted retractable ramp and pulley system capable of launching smaller vessels to serve as riverboats or landing craft whenever such things were required. It was thus that the royal couple, their luggage, and their servants were brought aboard one sunny morning.

After the short boat ride and a quick jaunt up a few flights of stairs, Captain Kenzo, the officer replacing the recently reassigned Captain Shu, waited on deck to greet them with a full complement of Imperial Firebenders.

“Welcome aboard, your majesties,” he pressed his fist into his palm, bowing his head respectfully while the soldiers around him stood at attention. “I hope your stay on Ember Island was to your satisfaction?”

“Oh yes,” Yue nodded immediately, nestling up to her new husband’s side. “Very much so. We had a wonderful time.”

“What she said,” Zuko put a hand around her waist and smiled fondly, before using the other to bid the captain rise.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Kenzo replied, assuming the same ramrod straight posture as the two lines of warriors on either side of them. “Are we ready to depart, then?”

“Set our course for the north pole, Captain,” the Fire Lord nodded.

For home, Yue thought just a little wistfully.

“Very good, my lord,” the officer nodded. “I’ll give the order at once. Lieutenant Zhiyu and his men will escort you to your quarters without delay.”

The young king nodded again, and he and his wife allowed themselves to be led away into the ship’s pagoda tower by a detachment of royal guards in their imperial red uniforms. It wasn’t long at all before they reappeared upon the tower’s balcony, getting a good view of Ember Island as the leviathan underneath their feet churned in full reverse. Gradually, as it reached deeper waters, it swung its power about in a great arc, while other ships appeared from over the horizon.

The sloop’s attendant escort fleet, consisting of the Empire-class Destiny’s Hand, the Azulon-class battlecruisers Burning Dawn and Golden Flame, along with five smaller Sovereign-class cruisers, formed up around the royal ship at a respectful but still protective distance. It was a war fleet fit to besiege a fortress or land a small army and more than a match for any hypothetical enemy fleet that their combined nations had somehow missed over the last four years. But today, it was simply a display of strength to mark the Fire Lord’s first time abroad. A signal flare went up from behind the couple’s tower, and as one the entire fleet started northwards.

“You’re sure this will work?” Commander Zhao asked the man in a small room nestled in the bowels of the Destiny’s Hand, for what had to be the hundredth time.

“I’ve studied the schematics you provided thoroughly,” Sergeant Xinfu of the Fire Army Demolition Corps answered. “A single compact charge, properly placed, will cause a catastrophic detonation in the boiler. The whole back end of the sloop will be destroyed. The tower will topple. Nothing anywhere near the boiler’s compartment will survive.”

“Mmmm…” the higher officer’s face was set into a neutral expression.

“The only tricky bits were the fuse, and the timing,” the demolitions man warned. “It couldn’t be too long, or it would risk discovery by the crew or Royal Procession. Your man inside will have to get in, light the fuse, and get out quickly.”

“He’ll do his part,” Zhao told him confidently, “as long as yours was done properly.”

“And the other thing is that it’s crucial to make sure that the target is on or near the deck level at the time of detonation,” Xinfu continued. “That ship is better armored than even an Empire-class. There are so many heavy bulkheads that even a few yards could mean the difference between success and failure.”

“It’s well in hand.”

“I’m glad to hear it, sir,” the brown-eyed man took a deep breath, before his gaze wandered down a fraction. “But…”

“But what?” the older soldier hissed.

“But… that’s Agni’s son on board,” the sergeant’s face lost a little bit of color as he spoke. “And… savage or not… his Fire Lady. Are… A-Are we sure…”

“You know what will happen if this sham is allowed to continue,” Zhao cut him off in a low, serious tone. “If nothing is done, soon, the taint will become irreversible. Agni will turn his back on us all for allowing it to take place. But right here, right now, it’s still possible to save our nation’s sacred bloodline. Destiny has gifted us with this opportunity. We can’t squander it. Do you understand that, Sergeant?”

“I…”

“This is for the future of the Fire Nation. Remember that.”

“…Right,” the sergeant took a deep breath. “Right, sir. For the future of the Fire Nation.”

“Steel your resolve, soldier,” the commander looked him dead in the eye. “Remember what a threat that savage is. To all of us.”

“Nnnnrrrrgh…” Yue yawned. “Five more minutes.”

“That’s what you said five minutes ago,” Zuko replied softly. “Yue, it’s been almost half an hour since dawn.”

“That’s too eaaaarly…” she complained.

“You don’t have to get up right away,” he tried to reason with her, “just let go of me.”

“But you’re so waaaarm…” far from letting go, she wrapped her arms tighter about his torso, snuggling up further onto his bare chest. “Firebenders are…” she yawned again, “so lucky.”

“Please let me go,” he asked nicely. “And then you can sleep in as late as you want today, okay Mrs. Night Owl?”

“No,” she mumbled in an almost childish way, still not opening her eyes. Instead, she rubbed the top of her head against his neck and the side of his face in a manner resembling that of an affectionate cat, loose white hair spilling everywhere. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yue…”

“And you liked it too,” she murmured, “last night.”

The Fire Lord sighed, returning his head fully to their long, shared pillow. He really couldn’t argue with that. At least until he started having to go to the bathroom.

“They did what?” the Fire Lady Dowager said in a low voice from behind her desk. “What did you just say?”

“Earthbenders from the Omashu resistance dropped boulders on Lady Michi and her two children during a nighttime stroll,” the nervous-looking army messenger repeated himself. “Using the city’s network of mail chutes. Lord Ukano was not with them at the time.”

A civilian woman… and two children, she covered her mouth with one hand. Targeted for nothing but being related to an official.

“Lady Mai was able to avoid the impact… Lady Michi was not. She was carrying the young Lord Tom-Tom at the time.” He shook his head gravely. “Lady Michi was found clutching her son beneath the rubble. Though he survived his injuries, his mother did not.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Lady Ursa. I know you and Lady Michi knew one another.”

“She was harmless, and they murdered her… and they tried to… tried to…” Ursa’s hands were curled into fists, clenched so hard they were quivering, “murder a baby?!” Smoke poured from her nostrils. “Those loathsome… soulless… savages!”

“Governor Ukano requests that he be relieved of duty, and that he and his children be permitted to return home,” the messenger continued after a moment, looking warily at the Fire Lady. “He no longer feels able to carry out his duties.”

“His request is granted,” Ursa said immediately.

Because Omashu had submitted peacefully, she had appointed a civilian to lead the occupation, and given instructions that a light touch be taken with the city. She saw now how dire a mistake that that had been.

“In his place, General Xian will assume the post of military governor of Omashu,” she continued through clenched teeth. “He is to take however many troops he requires and do whatever is necessary. He is not to stop until all those responsible for this atrocity have been hunted down and put to death.”

“I’ll see to it your orders are delivered promptly,” he bowed his head once again.

“And while you’re doing that, see to it Nushi is brought to my office immediately,” even the name of her favorite dragon hawk wasn’t enough to lighten the deep-set scowl on Ursa’s face. “I have another message I wish to send.”

“Come on, Yue!” Zuko gave his wife an exasperated look. “We’ve already pulled into port and the procession is assembled on the docks. I can see it through the balcony window!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” having already dismissed her servants, the young woman was visibly struggling to get her hair to stick in its usual elaborate loops after having hastily jammed her head straight through her long, light violet parka.

“It’s important to look the part of royalty if you want to inspire confidence in your people. Punctuality is part of that.”

“Okay, Azula!” Yue looked herself over in a mirror, frowned, and began applying a bit of extra powder to her cheeks.

“If she were here, she would have blared a trumpet in your ear if you even thought about lazing around on a day when you’re supposed to put in a public appearance,” the Fire Lord said, putting one hand to his chin and smirking slightly. “Come to think of it, maybe that isn’t a bad idea. This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t gotten used to sleeping in so late.”

“Zuko!” the Fire Lady huffed rather indignantly, even as she continued to struggle with getting the powder just right. “An hour after sunrise isn’t late!”

“It is in the Fire Nation,” Zuko replied. “You know that perfectly well.”

“…Yes,” she muttered little reluctantly. “I still say it shouldn’t be, though.”

“You can take it up with Agni,” he shook his head, giving her a brief, wry grin. “But seriously, Yue, you’re going to need to start going to bed earlier if you can’t get up when the rest of the country does.”

“I know, I know…” she sighed a little, putting down the makeup and brushing a few errant strands of white hair back into place, scrutinizing herself in the mirror once again. “It’s just… I love the moon and the stars, the whole night sky. It’s just so…” she struggled briefly to find words, “serene. Looking up at it just puts me at ease, you know? Makes me feel like, no matter how far I am from home, everything’s going to be alright.”

“Nothing wrong with taking the time to enjoy the night air,” Zuko’s reflection in the mirror shrugged. “Just so long as you don’t let it keep you out of bed too long.”

“It’s just… not always easy to judge, you know?” she gave a helpless look, setting down her brush. “Staying up to watch Tui dance her way across the heavens just comes naturally to me.”

“…I suppose I have no choice then,” he shook his head a little wryly. “It’ll be a heavy burden to bear, but as your Fire Lord it seems to be my solemn duty.”

The newlywed took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist from behind. Even through her thick garment, they felt warm and strong.

“I’ll just have to take it on myself to make sure you’re extra tired after dark,” he whispered straight into the young woman’s ear.

Yue felt more than saw the flush creeping into her cheeks. She certainly saw the hint of a pearly white grin on her husband’s face though.

“Looks like you like that idea,” Zuko said, bending over a little and pulling her in so close that her cheek made contact with his. “Don’t you?”

As she stared at the scene in the mirror, the Fire Lady was reasonably sure the droplets of sweat she saw forming on her face didn’t have much to do with the heavy parka she was now wearing.

“Y-Yes,” she squeaked, before swallowing and waiting a moment before continuing. “But Z-Zuko, shouldn’t we… shouldn’t we-”

She didn’t get the chance to say any more.

Seaman Zi Rui was, to put it mildly, rather nervous.

And, really, who could blame him? Yes, he knew why this had to be done, why the tainting of the Sun Father’s sacred bloodline with that of an impure foreign savage represented an outrageous act of sacrilege that any true son of the Fire Nation must fight against. And yes, he knew he owed his place on the Crown of Flame to Commander Zhao’s ability to pull strings within the navy, that after today the Commander would going places and taking those who showed their worth with him. But still…

He was going to blow up the Fire Lord’s ship. He was going to blow up the Fire Lord’s ship.

Huddled in a small, mostly disused storage room, a grey steel wall panel that had until recently concealed the long fuse running through the ship’s bowels to the explosive artfully nestled amongst the nearby boiler’s mechanisms lying at his feet, the young sailor took a deep breath. Then another. Then several more. He still didn’t feel any less jittery.

Zi Rui tried to reassure himself with his commander’s words. Fire was reluctant to harm ordinary firebenders like himself – how much more so must it be for Agni’s own son? While the savage would surely die, pulverized by the shockwave and swept away by tides of flame, there was at least some chance the Fire Lord himself, if battered, would survive. If his divine ancestor chose to forgive his sacrilege on account of his youth and his mother’s manipulations, then he would rise from the ashes with a changed perspective. Then the young man wouldn’t really be guilty of regicide. Or at least that was what he told himself.

He took another deep breath, checking his handheld steel timepiece. Not much longer now.

Seconds became minutes as he counted the beats of his heart. The deck beneath him shuddered as the engine slowly cut. Beads of sweat trickled down the firebender’s masked face. The distant echo of rattling chains signaled the dropping of the behemoth’s anchors. His heart rate increased still further, and he licked his lips. Then the characteristic groaning sound of grinding gears and hissing of vented steam let him know that the prow-mounted ramp was descending.

The young soldier swallowed. This was it. First, a guard drawn from the ship’s contingent of the Royal Procession would form up and march out, creating a ceremonial pathway for the Fire Lord’s palanquin to be carried down and onto the docks. It shouldn’t take too much longer before-

The masked firebender felt his heart skip a beat as the distinct sound of boots clanging on metal echoed down the hallway outside.

For just a moment he froze up, praying desperately to the sun spirit that it was just some passing crewman, that there was nothing to worry about. His ears soon told him that he wasn’t so lucky – he might be only a few months into his term of service with the Fire Navy, but he’d been around enough time to recognize the slow, deliberate pace of a man doing an inspection. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed over the small storage unit’s sole exit. It had been left slightly ajar, the better to prevent the inevitable groaning that came with disengaging the locking mechanism and making a hasty getaway but also, his very jittery mind now concluded, making it look a good deal more suspect than it otherwise might.

Zi Rui peered cautiously out of a slight crack in the doorway, and his already light flesh almost acquired the color of the ice sheets outside.

An Imperial Firebender on patrol? Here? Now? he thought. Does Agni just hate me today?

Quashing that disconcerting and hopefully superstitious thought, the sailor decided that the so-called Fire Lady was due on deck any second now. He wasn’t getting caught alone in this tiny, dead-end room where the end of the fuse could potentially be found.

Moving with an almost unseemly haste, the young patriot crossed the room, lit the long, slow-burning fuse with a single jab from one hand, and then roughly slammed the missing wall panel back into place. It was a rough fit, and anything more than the most cursory inspection would spot it as out of place, but he was well past the point of caring. He had to get out of there, now.

By the time he’d emerged from the storage room, blissfully unaware of the fact that his hands were conspicuously empty, the young man found the lone royal bodyguard about halfway down the long stretch of hallway, directly between him and the direction he needed to be going. Very thankful that his white mask covered up his swallow, he set off straight towards the elite soldier at a pace that was stretching the upper limits of walking. Everything inside of him screaming to take off running, reminding him of the imminent and inevitable detonation, and he was so busy suppressing that urge that it didn’t even occur to him as he approached that he ought to stop and offer his social superior a polite bow. Instead, he simply brushed, rather rudely, right past the Fire Lord’s guard, cutting it so close that the extended tips of their shoulder pads actually bounced off one another. He ignored that and just kept walking as fast as he dared. He didn’t notice the imperial red and gold-armored soldier turn halfway around, didn’t see the other man stare at his back for a handful of seconds.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, sailor?” the Imperial Firebender’s voice demanded from behind him in a suspicious tone. “You’re not needed on deck.”

The soldier didn’t reply, didn’t even turn his head in acknowledgement. He was still far too close to the boiler compartment for that. He just picked up the pace, hurrying through the nearby heavy metal door separating that stretch of hallway from the next. The moment it slammed shut, he broke out into an outright sprint, pushing his way past another a startled-looking crewman heading in the opposite direction. He didn’t try to duck, or weave, or hide, he just wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the epicenter of the detonation. He was halfway down the next hallway when the door behind him clanged noisily open once again.

“Halt!” the same voice from earlier echoed down the corridor. “In the name of the Fire Lord!”

“Yes sir!” came a prompt reply from the same direction.

“Not you, you idiot!”

There was a brief sound of a scuffle, followed immediately by the further clanging of boots on metal. Zi Rui picked up his pace, slamming another armored bulkhead shut behind him and jamming its locking mechanism. There were branching hallways in this next corridor, rooms in which he might have tried to hide, but his overriding, single-minded object was to put as much distance between himself and the boiler room as humanly possible and so he continued straight ahead without a moment’s pause.

He’d almost made it to the next portal when the sound of a heavy metal door being forced open echoed down the hallway behind him. A heartbeat later it was followed up by the mistakable fwoosh of firebending. The seaman whirled halfway about, conjuring flames of his own in a wild attempt at a standardized navy defensive drill, but the royal bodyguard’s orange-yellow blast was simply too strong for the young man. It punched straight through his half-formed shield and struck him on the chest. His armored uniform was built precisely to resist such strikes and he still possessed a firebender’s innate resistance to heat, but the sheer concussive force of the attack still sent him flying.

Zi Rui slammed headfirst into another of the sloop’s armored doors with enough force to snap one of the decorative spikes off his helmet, then collapsed onto hard steel deck. He lay there for a few seconds in a dazed heap, grey smoke wafting from a blackened section of his chest armor. By the time the world around him regained enough clarity to be coherent, the Imperial Firebender was looming ominously over him, hands curled into fists and whole body poised to unleash a torrent of flames upon the young soldier at the slightest provocation.

“Remove your mask immediately,” the Fire Lord’s bodyguard demanded brusquely. “Name and rank. Now.”

“I-” the would-be regicide began to say.

And then, without any warning at all, their time ran out.

Chieftain Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe stood atop an icy pier not all that long after sunrise, feeling a deep sense of bittersweet melancholy.

His daughter was coming home today. Coming home not merely as a princess, not even as an empress, but as a hero, a valiant example of the best of Water Tribe femininity. A brave girl willing to sacrifice her home, the comforting embrace of her family, and everything she had known throughout her young life for the good of her tribe. By her act of selfless devotion to her people, she had won them a future. And she had done it all without even a single complaint over the last four long years. It was hard to imagine himself feeling prouder of her.

But… Yue wasn’t his any longer. At least, not in the same way she had always been before. And she wasn’t with a man of the tribe, a man whose family he knew intimately, from a clan that had lived alongside his own for generations. He wouldn’t be able to see her much any longer, wouldn’t be able to watch over her even from afar. Even his own future grandchildren, one of whom was stipulated to become his eventual heir, would be seen by the world as Fire Nation princelings first and foremost. Even after having had years to get used to that idea, to get accustomed to her periodic absences and ready himself for the inevitable, it was still a hard thing to truly accept. As he looked up at the massive metal ship making its way slowly into port, a small, sad sigh escaped his lips.

The docks on which he stood were a relatively new addition to the tribe’s walled capital, only constructed in the years since the treaty that had formally ended the war with the Fire Nation. Extending outwards into the open ocean and yet well within sight of the towering curtain wall bearing his tribe’s sigil, they were far larger than any others constructed in the last century, intended to receive foreign trading ships, serve as points of resupply for the Fire Navy ships that patrolled the waters between them at the northern Earth Kingdom, and act as the final mustering station for Water Tribe troops scheduled to accompany their chosen allies to the war abroad. They were connected to the broader city through a massive tunnel burrowed straight through one of the glaciers surrounding their capital, allowing for easy mass transit past the wall while being exceptionally easy for even a handful of skilled waterbenders to collapse on a moment’s notice.

That decision was probably for the best, considering that there weren’t currently too many waterbenders available in the city. Most of them, warriors and healers alike, were away serving on the southerner’s metal ships, or in medical tents and field hospitals scattered across the distant, war-ravaged continent. Most of those that remained in the north pole were assembled on the docks behind their chieftain, in their best uniforms, standing at attention in parade formation alongside rank after rank of spear-wielding nonbenders. Even so, the Water Tribe contingent was still outnumbered by the Fire Navy elements likewise lined up to greet the royal couple, by a not inconsiderable margin. Their leading officer, Commander Zhao, alongside the captains of each of the eight ships accompanying the royal craft, stood right beside Arnook, Xue, Master Pakku, and the remaining members of their tribal council. The commander, at least, seemed to be in a better mood than the chieftain, at least judging by the tight smile he was wearing.

With a deliberate, unhurried slowness, the royal sloop slid into the pride of place at the very tip of the icy pier, dwarfed only by the titanic gold-prowed battleship docked closer to the outer wall. There was a hiss of steam and the grinding of gears, and the ornate gold-rimmed black prow of the Fire Lord’s ship descended onto the pier. The entire parade formation, Fire Nation and Water Tribe alike, held themselves at ramrod straight attention. An entire forest of spears pointed towards the heavens.

From metal stairways into the bowels of the ship emerged two rows of soldiers from the Royal Procession, looking immaculate in their uniforms of imperial red and gold. In perfect unison worthy of any parade ground, they formed up into two rows on either side of the deck, before around half of them marched down the ramp. The other half spread themselves evenly across the deck, forming a neat, straight processional for the royal couple’s palanquin going all the way from the double doors of the pagoda to the very tip of the much larger formation, where stood Arnook and Zhao. Again as one, without an audible signal, both entire rows turned forty-five degrees on their heels, leaving them standing at perfect attention facing their lord’s intended pathway.

The northern chieftain, blue eyes fixed on the scene dead ahead, failed to notice the way the smile on the officer beside him grew just a little bit wider.

For a little while, the Imperial Firebenders and the whole assembled formation stood stock still, waiting there for the tower doors to open and the royal palanquin to emerge. And they kept waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Arnook frowned a little, blue eyes wandering up to the empty balcony that he knew marked the location of the royal chambers, wondering if something was wrong. But the doorway was sealed shut and curtains pulled over the tinted windows. He couldn’t make out a thing.

Then his daughter’s ship exploded.

It happened without any warning at all. One moment they were all just standing there in silence as they had been for some time, waiting on the arrival of the bizarrely tardy royal couple. The next, there a blinding flash accompanied by an earsplitting boom. A shockwave staggered every man from here to the city’s entrance, and outright threw many of the closest off their feet. One of the ship’s twin steel smokestacks, blackened, bent, and twisted, crashed down into the northern sea, shaving portions off a nearby pier as it did so. The other was simply reduced to chunks of smoking metal raining down from the sky.

Metal groaned with a deafening screech, as the ship visibly listed to one side. A blazing, uncontrolled firestorm had erupted from a gaping hole in the superstructure just behind the royal tower, with flames racing across the deck as globs of burning oil and chunks of flaming coal went everywhere. The palatial tower itself buckled and shook dangerously as the blaze behind it rose ever higher, swaying back and forth and even trembling, as if it were a living thing fighting to stay on its feet. But the structure beneath it was already fatally undermined, the steel beams forming its foundation disfigured in the initial blast and warping further with each passing second beneath the sheer withering heat of the raging inferno. Before anyone had had time to do anything more than stare in horrified fascination or shriek in terror, it gave way altogether.

Yue’s father watched helplessly, heart caught in his throat, as the tall pagoda tower swayed once more and then, with the terrible squealing sound of tearing metal, collapsed forward onto the ship’s deck, simply crushing anyone too stunned, scorched, or slow to get out of its way. Some of the fires were simply smothered beneath it, but others began reaching up to swallow the tower as well.

“Yue…” he breathed in stunned, wide-eyed disbelief and mounting horror. Beside him, his wife let out a downright bloodcurdling scream.

The reaction from the assemblage, once the initial moments of shock had passed, was almost immediate. Nearby soldiers in firebenders’ uniforms, imperial and otherwise, all but tripped over themselves in their haste to reach the stricken sloop. Some raced along the dock at its side, bolder ones charged straight up the black and gold prow ramp. All worked, alone or in tandem, to pull heat away from the vessel, to force the surging flames to extinguish themselves through sheer willpower. Uniformed northern waterbenders weren’t far behind, with some freezing the seas beneath the stern-side gaping, flaming hole to buoy the sagging steel, while others pulled waves or whips of seawater up towards the deck and its toppled tower, dousing the firestorm as swiftly as they were able.

“Assemble our rescue teams at once!” Commander Zhao’s voice rang out, still clear and strong where Arnook had all but lost his. Even if his commands seemed a bit redundant. “Fire Navy personnel with recovery training to board the Crown of Fire without delay to recover survivors!”

It seemed a little unnecessary to say so, considering how so many onlookers appeared to more or less be doing that by sheer reflex anyway, but it did at least appear to be stirring some more of the gathered crowd to action.

“All remaining soldiers are to lock down these docks immediately!” Zhao continued to bark orders at the assembled sailors and officers, along with those fragments of the Imperial Firebenders that had already disembarked. “No one gets on or off this pier without my say-so! As of right this moment, everyone on this dock is a suspect…” his amber eyes gave Arnook a sidelong glance, “in the murder of the Fire Lord.”

“Are you…” between the extremes of grief, shock, and outrage, the northern chieftain was momentarily lost for words for sheer disbelief. “My daughter is onboard that ship!”

“Well,” the commander replied in a perfectly level tone, “you savages never valued your women much anyway.”

“Even since the surrender of Omashu, General Fong has continued to refuse all our offers of surrender and clemency,” Ursa told the towering assassin standing before her. “And now my patience has run out.”

“You refer to what happened in Omashu,” he said simply.

“Yes…” she nodded. “He may have been involved in supporting those… those loathsome savages who murdered a helpless woman and tried to do the same to her teenaged daughter and infant son. His fortress is near enough for it.”

The man said nothing, merely observing.

“Our spies have learned that he means to visit his men on the front lines of mountain skirmishes,” the regent continued after taking a moment to compose herself. “Some time within the next few weeks. I want you to meet him there. Wipe Fong out. Him, and whatever command staff he has with him.”

“Do you want any survivors this time?”

“…How many men,” she asked, “does it take to deliver news back to a fortress?”

“One.”

Chapter Text

Chief Arnook had never been one to begrudge others the gifts the spirits had given them. Never been one to question the judgement of the moon and ocean – especially not since that fateful night sixteen years before. But by Tui’s gills, he had never before so ardently wished that he were a waterbender.

The deck of the Crown of Fire was an absolute disaster zone. With thousands of eyes upon them, waterbenders, with Master Pakku at their fore, and firebenders, led by Captain Kenzo, battled ferociously to contain and slowly push back the ever-surging inferno. Red-armored soldiers worked in teams to simply force the flames to flicker low and gutter out by sheer force of will, or in the case of more advanced masters made curious pulling gestures that might seem to be doing nothing to those not close enough to make out the shimmering waves of heat that they were channeling up into the sky out of their opposite hands. Right alongside them, dark-skinned men in blue and white pulled stream after stream of frigid artic water from the sea’s endless supply, dousing blazes and cooling superheated metal in hissing clouds of steam. For all that the would-be rescuers were numerous, coordinated, and pushing as aggressively up the deck as they could, the behemoth ship’s sheer size, and the unbelievable intensity of the heat roiling off the ruin of its immense boiler compartment as literal tons of coal and innumerable lubricants burned, worked against them.

Everything inside of Arnook screamed for him to be up there, to be helping somehow. To tear the ruin of the pagoda tower apart with his bare hands until he’d pulled his only child from the warped mass of metal. But the rational side of him knew that a fifty-year-old nonbender would only be getting in the way, knew that he couldn’t possibly douse the flames faster than the combined efforts of his tribe’s and the Fire Lord’s own benders were working feverishly to do. So, all he could do was stand there on that icy dock, clutching his quietly sobbing wife by his side, and watch as Yue’s fate was decided by someone else.

The horrorstricken father had eyes for nothing else. Not even the all-too-recent insult to his tribe and its customs, not even the unbelievably slanderous accusation that he might have plotted the murder of his own daughter, could really occupy his mind in that moment. He, along with almost everyone else atop that frozen pier, stood right where he was, utterly transfixed, part of his mind still having difficulty believing that this was happening at all. It never once occurred to him that that might have been the point.

Minutes went by, but they felt like hours. Men shouted, swore, and cursed. The combined strength of fire and water slowly forced their way across the sloop’s deck inch by agonizing inch, battling constantly against the wreathing flames that constantly threatened to envelop the toppled tower, or which surged up from belowdecks in sudden, unpredictable bursts. It was grueling, grinding work, and neither the chill of the north pole nor the firebenders’ own native heat resistance could wholly protect the men involved. More than once a soldier had to be rotated out, pulled back to the relative safety of the pier and replaced by another bender as the smoke or strain threatened to overwhelm them. One man actually did collapse, having to be dragged off the ship by two of his comrades.

It was just as the combined rescue team was just about reaching the twisted mass of warped, cherry-red metal that had once been the tower’s base and/or the underlying deck, right next to the burning crater that formed the epicenter of the blast, that the mass of bending from without was answered by bending from within. Seconds after a tidal wave of clear, frigid water had forced the inferno back several more yards, a head-sized yellow orb detonated against a section of brittle, cracked metal. Shrapnel exploded out across the already ruined deck and out into the waters beyond, echoing and splashing in a vague scattershot. But far more important was the fact that a path clear of searing, hungry flame or armored hull built to withstand the fiercest imaginable earthbending assault for hours had at last been opened up. As some rescuers surged forward to help and other struggled mightily to push the roaring fires further back towards their origin point, a figure finally emerged from the shattered tower.

Stepping gingerly over and around the irregular lumps of blackened carbon that had quite likely been the palanquin bearers or personal servants waiting on the tower’s ground floor only a few minutes ago, the young Fire Lord’s exposed flesh was covered with cuts, scraps, and even some burns. His golden headpeace was gone, leaving his hair a wild mess, and his finery torn in numerous places. His left arm hung limply by his side. But what mattered the most to the northern chieftain was what he clung to ferociously with his right, the same thing that dangled limply from his back. The same figure that clung to his neck with a virtual death grip.

“Yue!” Arnook and Xue called out as one.

Even as several men broke off their firefighting efforts, racing to the southern king’s side while others continued straining to push the inferno back as far as possible, it became apparent that the royal couple weren’t the only survivors of the tower’s collapse. Following in their wake was a tall man in the tattered uniform of an Imperial Firebender, dragging a second member of his order slung limply across his back, half-blackened blood visible through that man’s shattered helmet. There were two terrified-looking servants in the uniforms of the Fire Nation Royal Palace, and one darker woman dressed as a Water Tribe handmaiden. But those were the only others to emerge in the Fire Lord’s wake. Even as the least populated area of the ship by far and emptied of most of its usual guards to form the processional aisle, towers that size were meant for far more people.

“Your majesty!” Captain Kenzo was the first to reach the couple. “Thank the spirits you’re alive!” His golden eyes fell on his lord’s wife, even as more men raced to surround them. One of them, in cobalt and navy-blue uniform, gingerly lifted his princess from her husband’s neck, supporting her on his shoulder instead. The young woman staggered a bit, leaning heavily on her tribesman, her body shuddering as she coughed several times.

“Princess Yue, are you alright?” even through the mask, his voice was laced with urgency.

“We need to get them off of this boat!” a third soldier snapped. “Right now!”

“Get a medic for Yue!” the Fire Lord demanded. “Now!” He turned his head back towards the ruins of his tower and shouted. “And keep fighting that fire! There were still hundreds of crewmen below decks when the boiler detonated!”

“Our first priority is your safety, your majesty,” Kenzo replied, gesturing for the combined group to more or less start herding the royal couple towards the extended prow ramp. Other soldiers were seeing to the handful of other survivors from the tower, but not nearly so many.

By the time the two had been shepherded down the black and gold ramp onto the frozen docks, Yue’s father and mother were waiting anxiously for them several men dressed in Fire Navy madics’ uniforms, and three waterbending women of the north, all drawn from the crews of the undamaged ships further down the pier. Arnook had to place a hand on his wife’s shoulder to hold her back from rushing to her only daughter’s side. She needed medical attention before anything else.

Unlike her husband, who could at least still stand while the medics began a hurried examination of his battered body, virtually the minute she could, the Fire Lady sank into a seated position atop one of the stretchers being brought over from the other ships. Two women gingerly pried her torn, stained violet parka from her body in spite of the arctic cold. While they began checking over the chieftain’s daughter for signs of injury, one of the royal firebenders held up a flame in both hands, warming the air around them.

“Lightheadedness… shortness of breath… irregular coughing fits… clear difficulty focusing her eyes… Your majesty,” one of the northern women bowed her head briefly to the Fire Lord after a short interval. “Princess Yue. She didn’t hit her head on anything, did she?”

“Just my neck,” Zuko, who was by that point seated in a chair Xue had ordered brought forward, winced, rubbing a patch of his throat that was already starting to show early signs of discoloration with his functioning arm.

“I see,” she nodded. “It looks to have been caused by inhalation, then,” the waterbender pronounced.

“That would… that would make sense,” the dark-haired young man nodded. “While we were making our way down the tower, a pipe in the wall suddenly burst behind us. She was closer to it than me.”

“Can you do anything for her?” Arnook asked anxiously.

“Only a limited amount,” the healer looked nervous. “Internal injuries are always more complicated, and it isn’t as though I can flood her highness’s lungs with healing water.”

“We’ll do everything we can, chief,” the second of the two women by his daughter’s side promised. “Come on, Kisa, we can at least redirect more of her chi into chest to encourage healing.”

“Right,” her fellow northerner nodded, and together both of them pulled purified water from the pouches at their sides, which began to glow around their hands as one worked on the snow-haired girl’s chest directly, the other on her back.

“What about…” Yue took several sharp, deep breaths as the benders ran their hands along her flesh. “What about… What about Zuko?"

“Most of his majesty’s injuries are surface level cuts and burns, easy to treat with waterbending, but it also looks like his shoulder has been dislocated,” the Fire Navy medic looking over him diagnosed. “At least partially.”

“Can you put it back into place?” the young man asked.

The navy medic blinked. “…I wouldn’t recommend it out here, without proper-”

“Can you put it back into place?” he repeated.

“…Yes sir,” the bearded man nodded with clear reluctance. “But again, I stress the importance of a proper setting, with proper anesthetic procedures and-”

“Medic Kofu, the royal flagship has just exploded, and its tower been toppled, in front of thousands of eyewitnesses,” the Fire Lord said. “Dozens, maybe hundreds, of sailors are dead already. Agni knows how many more bodies we may find before today is out. I don’t need to explain to you the kind of effect this all will be having on the men of the fleet, do I?”

The navy man shook his head.

“And so, what do you think the men still on this dock, the men aboard the ships, need to see right now? Their Fire Lord carted off on a stretcher, vanishing into some ship’s medical bay and abandoning his command at a critical moment for who knows how long? Or their Fire Lord standing undaunted, in spite of everything?”

“If I do as you ask, sir…” the medic said slowly. “It will be quite painful.”

“I know.”

“And you still want me to do it?”

“You already know the answer.”

That young man is no coward, at least, Arnook acknowledged mentally of his son-in-law, as he and his wife continued to look on.

Kofu gave a heavy sigh. “…Yes, sir.” He motioned at one of the northern women still on standby. “Medic Keesi, with me please, if you would. I have a feeling his majesty will be wanting your waterbending applied to his shoulder as quickly as possible.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

“Very good,” the medic nodded, taking up a position at the king’s side. “Now, please, Fire Lord Zuko, relax your body as much as you can. Take some deep breaths for me.” He paused a moment, observing with a practiced eye. “Good. Very good. Now I want you to close your eyes. Focus on the sound of your own breathing.” There was another moment of relative quiet. “That’s right…” he motioned for the northern healer to move in closer. “Now, I’m going to pick up your arm now, but don’t pay attention to that, just keep your mind’s eye firmly on the rhythm of your breath. In and out. In and out. In and out.” He lifted the teenager’s left arm gingerly in two hands. “Calm as a gentle hearth fire.” He raised the limp limb up to the level of the level of its proper joint. “Keep breathing. Out and in. Out and in. Out and… in!”

In one swift, smooth motion, the older man jammed the younger’s arm right back into its proper joint with the practiced efficiency of one who had performed the procedure many times. The Fire Lord let out a brief, pained gasp, before screwing up his eyes and gritting his teeth. Kofu immediately backed off several steps, giving Keesi ample room to work as she began ministering to the joint with dark hands coated in glowing water.

“Proper treatment from a qualified waterbender can cut the recovery time of such injuries down significantly, but I still would advise your majesty against using that arm for anything strenuous for at least the next two to three weeks,” Kofu advised. “Or you risk a relapse. Wearing a sling would be for the best.”

The young king said nothing, continuing to keep his eyes tightly closed as the healing continued.

“I feel it is safe to assume that you landed on that arm when the tower fell, is that correct?”

“…Yes,” Zuko muttered through still-clenched teeth.

“And a lot of me…” Yue began, before a brief fit of coughing saw her hack up a glob of mucus with a few faint traces of blood. Her father winced sympathetically. “Landed on it.”

“A sudden fall onto an armored hull, and the weight of another human falling on top of it… Frankly, sir, you’re quite fortunate that the damage to your arm was not more severe. I didn’t feel any major breakages in your bones, but I would still recommend extending the waterbending treatments to the whole of your arm during the recovery period. There may be microfractures.”

His patient nodded wordlessly. For a little while, that section of the dock lapsed into a period of comparative quiet, which only meant that the roar of the shipboard inferno, the constant shouting of the men struggling to fight it, and the endless clatter of boots on metal as soldiers and medics raced up and down the prow ramp over and over again. Throughout it all, the three waterbending women attending to the royal couple continued carrying out their duties in diligent, focused silence. Gradually, Yue’s coughs and wheezing became less severe, while Zuko’s facial muscles loosened considerably.

“That explosion… it was enormous. How did… how did the two of you survive?” Xue eventually asked, looking from her daughter to her son-in-law as another limp but technically still breathing form was carried past them in a stretcher.

“We were still…” Yue coughed once into a gloved hand, taking several deep breaths as the two women attending her continued their efforts. “In our stateroom… when the blast hit.”

“That tower – nrgh,” Zuko winced, screwing up his eyes again momentarily. “It looks like a palace, but it’s built like a fortress. The walls, the floors, the doors – all armored. The explosion didn’t make it past the third floor.” He opened his eyes and looked down at his boots. “The first two were where most of the guards and servants were, though.”

“How awful…” Arnook’s wife put a hand to her mouth.

“There may be more survivors within the tower for us to dig out,” the chieftain squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Trapped in a room somewhere or rendered unconscious by the pagoda’s fall. We shouldn’t give up hope for them.”

“You’re right…” the Fire Lord nodded. The young man took a deep breath, then looked up at his father-in-law. “The rescue effort. How’s that going?”

“You’d probably be better off asking your own officers,” the chieftain replied. “It’s a Fire Navy ship, and a Fire Navy crew. They know the ins and outs of it better than I do. I’ve been letting them take the lead.”

“Letting them?!” beside him, his wife looked offended on his behalf. “Your majesty, your officer usurped command of this situation without even the pretense of respecting my husband’s authority in our own city!”

And I allowed him to do it because sparking conflict with a larger, emotionally charged army that thinks it might have just watched its king die was the absolute last thing we needed right at that moment. Arnook was suddenly reminded of why his tribe traditionally considered women ill-suited for politics.

“And then he insinuated that he thought we might have been involved in this somehow!” Xue continued. “First, he disrespects our rights and sovereignty on our own territory, then he questions our honor? Our loyalty?”

“Mama…” Yue held up both hands in a gesture of peace, breathing still a bit unsteady. “I’m sure he… was just… just angry in… in the heat of the moment.”

“I’ll look into it once everything here is under control,” Zuko promised his mother-in-law, who still looked more than a little upset. “But right now, can somebody tell me how the rescue efforts are going?”

“I believe I can help you there, your majesty,” Captain Kenzo stepped in. “So far, we’ve managed to pull sixty-two survivors from the main deck and the first two levels below that.” He turned his head momentarily at the sound of boots on ice. “Make that sixty-three. All are being transferred to the remaining ships of the fleet for evaluation and medical treatment. Some, I don’t know how many, are critically injured.”

“Every one of our healers on these docks is working alongside your men to save everyone they can,” the chief assured him. “We would have sent for those remaining within our city to came and help as well, if we weren’t being prevented.”

“Prevented?” the young man frowned. “What’s preventing you?”

“Commander Zhao ordered that the docks be completely locked down,” Kenzo explained to him. “Fire Navy personnel have assumed full control of the entrance to the tunnel leading back to the city, with orders to let no one in or out. He suspects foul play may be involved here.”

“A completely unfounded accusation!” Xue added angrily.

“The Commander also felt that having massed army formations lined up on the docks could impede rescue efforts,” the sloop’s captain went on. “And so ordered that all troops not directly involved in them temporarily embarked onto the remaining ships of the fleet, to allow the benders and medics unimpeded access to the Crown of Fire.”

“An order he had no right to give the men of our tribe,” Arnook informed him. “But to which I assented, for the sake of expediency.”

And because, frankly, he really hadn’t been able to think about anything but Yue at that moment. It was only now, with his daughter sitting there in front of him, alive if not entirely well, that certain other considerations were starting to creep into the chief’s head.

“Where’s…” Zuko looked around, frowning a little, golden eyes flickering from face to face. “Where is Commander Zhao, anyway? I didn’t see him on deck. Why isn’t he here, overseeing the rescue effort?”

“I… don’t know,” his father-in-law admitted. “I haven’t seen him since the first few minutes after the explosion.”

“Captain Kenzo?”

“I don’t know either, your majesty,” the sloop’s officer shook his head. “Retrieving you was my highest priority.”

“Maybe…” Yue began, taking a deep breath. “His flagship? Checking on the… the wounded?”

“Captain, I want you to go there.” The king breathed deeply himself, drawing himself up in a clear effort to seem more poised and authoritative, even as Keesi slowly began making her way down the length of his injured arm. “Find Zhao and summon him here. I want to speak with him. Be as quick as you can.”

“Yes sir,” the officer saluted, before motioning for two sailors of the Fire Navy to follow him, as he began striding briskly down the pier.

“You’re going to talk to that man, instead of immediately overruling him?” Xue frowned at her daughter’s husband. “Most of our healers are away, but there are still some left in the city who could be of help right now, if soldiers of your nation weren’t barring everyone’s way.”

“He’s a veteran with decades of naval service behind him,” the Fire Lord explained. “I want to at least hear him out before I publicly undermine him in front of the whole fleet.” He shook his head once. “Maybe his officer’s instincts are telling him something important.”

“His baseless paranoia more like…”

Arnook placed one hand on his wife’s shoulder and, when she turned to look at him, silently shook his head at her. Xue looked a little sullen, but nonetheless lapsed obediently into silence.

The pier all around them was, of course, still anything but silent. Rescue crews from the Fire Navy and those northern waterbenders in attendance were still struggling to push back and extinguish the titanic blaze that the explosion had unleashed, great hissing clouds of steam mixing with the column of black smoke rising high into the heavens. Their efforts were valiant, but the Crown of Fire was massive, the hole in her deck wide and deep, and the vast stocks of coal kept aboard thoroughly ablaze. It was an uphill struggle even with their combined bending powers, made even harder by the constant need for parts of their team to break off and carry away injured men as they were retrieved, or staggered up from belowdecks under their own power. Men running back and forth down the docks, bearing stretchers or messages, was an absolute constant. It was telling that most of them barely seemed to be reacting to the presence of their own king as they dashed past.

It was around the same time that certain benders of both nations, worn uniforms thoroughly coated in ash, were making their way down the ramp for a short rest as fresher firebenders were rotated in, that the sloop’s captain returned. He had another officer with him, but not the one Zuko had asked for, and a slight crease to his brow.

“I wasn’t able to find Commander Zhao aboard the Destiny’s Hand,” Kenzo told the Fire Lord after offering him a quick salute. “But Captain Naju says that he has some information that may be relevant.”

He gestured, and the battleship’s captain stepped forward, pressing his fist into one palm and bowing before his sovereign. The young king simply raised one hand, bidding him to rise.

“During the mass embarkation of troops, I saw Commander Zhao gathering several squads’ worth of men from aboard our command ship,” the other officer explained.

“They weren’t… to help on the royal ship?” Yue asked, before coughing once.

Naju shook his head. “The men he gathered weren’t all firebenders, and I had of course already assembled and dispatched the entirety of our trained rescue crews to fight the fire and retrieve survivors, per his original orders. I was on deck at the time, overseeing the incoming waves of men, and I saw that they were heading away from your ship. Towards the city.”

That was certainly enough to set Arnook’s teeth on edge.

“At a time like this?” he said aloud. “Why?”

“…To get the other healers himself, maybe?” his daughter guessed a bit weakly, before furrowing her brow.

“But… he didn’t want anyone else coming out from the city,” Kenzo frowned himself. “And even if he didn’t trust anyone from the Water Tribe enough to let them leave the docks, why not just send one of his own subordinates to fetch them? One he’s known and trusted.”

“If he suspects some kind of plot against me, what could be more important than staying here?” Zuko mused. “Until he’s found out whether I’m alive or not?”

The chief nodded along, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. “Yes… He trusts the men under him to lead the search for the Fire Lord, but not to retrieve waterbenders from the healing huts? That makes no sense.”

“But…” Yue looked up at her father and mother. “What does our city even have that’s more valuable…” she took a second to breathe again, “than the Fire Lord?”

“Uh, your majesty?” Captain Naju piped up a little hesitantly.

“Speak freely,” Zuko promptly urged him.

“I don’t know if it’s of any help to you, but… one of my men reported hearing the Commander saying something about… going fishing?” the Fire Navy officer sounded confused.

The northern chieftain’s eyes widened as a sudden, deeply disturbing realization hit him.

“The oasis…” he breathed.

What does that man want with our most sacred place?!

“Oasis?” Zuko looked from father to daughter and back again. “What oasis?”

“A sacred place to the moon and ocean spirits – one that even the artic winter can’t touch,” his wife explained to him. “It’s been here since time immemorial.” She breathed deeply and swallowed once before continuing. “It’s the most spiritual place in our entire tribe. It’s the same one the water in our wedding ceremony came from.”

“There are two sacred koi fish that dwell there,” her father added. “It must have something to do with them.”

“Why would Commander Zhao be interested in a pair of fish? At a time like this?”

“I don’t know, but…” the Fire Lady’s blue eyes were now looking down at her gloved hands. “Something’s telling me it’s nothing good.”

“That man reacted far too calmly to the destruction of your ship,” the chieftain’s eyes were gradually narrowing as pieces clicked into place. “And now he’s run off towards the holiest place in north pole, one that he shouldn’t have any knowledge of, abandoning the search for his own liege to lesser officers?” He looked over at his son-in-law. “This doesn’t seem like a spontaneous reaction.”

“You’re right,” the Fire Lord nodded, a frown appearing on his battered face. “Everything about this is starting to smell wrong. Whatever the commander’s planning to do at this oasis, I don’t think we should let him. I need to get there to order his men to stand down. Now.”

“I can help with that!” Yue’s looked him right in the eye, a newfound sense of urgency writ large across her features. “I still remember the fastest way from here! And we can use waterbending to create shortcuts!”

“Yue, you just caught a lungful of fumes. Are you sure you’re feeling up to running right now?” her husband looked concerned.

“I can do this,” she assured him, brushing past her healers to stand up and taking a deep breath while pointedly not coughing as if to demonstrate. “Trust me.”

“Yue, this man may be very dangerous,” if half of what her father was now imagining of him proved true, that was understating it. “You ought to stay back.”

“Papa, I’ll have you, and Zuko, and all our bodyguards!” the snow-haired girl protested. “There’s no way he’d be crazy enough to act openly against all of us, not right in the middle of our capital! I’ll be okay – and useful!” She clasped her hands together and looked imploringly at her husband. “I promise I’ll be useful! I just… really feel like I should be there!”

“…I trust her intuition about this,” Zuko declared with an air of authoritative finality, standing tall and looking to one of his bodyguards. “And we don’t have time for an argument. With his head start, we don’t have time to bring any dead weight either. Qin Lee, you and anyone from the Royal Procession not busy pulling survivors from the sloop are with me on this.”

“Of course, sir,” the masked firebender nodded.

“Captain Kenzo, you know my ship and its crew best. You’re to remain on the docks and assume full command of the work here. I want that fire on the sloop extinguished, and every last survivor found and rescued.”

“It will be done according to your will,” the officer confirmed.

The older, darker man briefly closed his eyes and sighed. “Kenek,” Arnook addressed one of the few waterbenders not currently occupied onboard the ship. “You and whatever waterbenders we have immediately to hand will speed our path to the oasis.” He opened his eyes again and looked gravely at the masked tribesman. “We’ll be counting on you.”

The ash-coated man gave his chief a grave, wordless nod.

“That’ll have to do. We’ve been here long enough. Let’s go,” Zuko commanded. “Yue,” the king looked over at his wife. “Show us the way.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dad,” the pale girl said, a darkly uncharacteristic note of passion in her voice.

“Don’t be absurd!” Lord, formerly Governor, Ukano half-shouted across the room. “We came here expecting a quiescent city ready to be transformed into a model colony, and what we found was a warzone! This is no place for children! We’ve…” his voice audibly cracked, and he only just suppressed a sob. “W-We’ve lost enough here already.”

“You’re right, we have lost enough here,” his daughter pursed her lips. “That’s why you’re going to take Tom-Tom and go back home to the Caldera estate.”

“I am, and you’re coming with me!”

“No.”

“Young lady, this is not the time for you to become-”

“No,” she repeated more forcefully, matching his frown with one of her own.

The nobleman fought the temptation to tear at his grey hair. His firstborn had long been quiet, reserved, even cynical and grouchy, but never before disobedient. “Why not?!”

“The roachrats hiding in this city’s tunnels just murdered my mother,” Mai pulled a gleaming, razor-sharp blade from her sleeve and held it up in one hand. “They’re going to pay.”

“Rooting out these vermin is a job for the army, not a fifteen-year-old girl!”

“And I’m joining in on the effort. It’s a matter of family honor. You’re decades out of your fighting prime and haven’t trained for years, Uncle’s nailed down to the Boiling Rock, and Tom-Tom’s… Tom-Tom,” Azula’s old friend looked her father square in the eye. “General Xian will understand. I’ll make him understand.”

The highborn former Governor of Omashu stared into his usually obedient child’s tawny eyes, a nearly identical shade to his own, and found only an unblinking, wrathful resolve staring back. In all his years raising her, he couldn’t ever recall having seen her wearing any other expression of such singular intensity.

“I’m…” he took a deep breath, “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

“No.”

“And if I try to force you to come along, you’re just going to keep trying to run away and come back here, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“…I see,” the grey-haired nobleman, feeling every bit of his many years and then some, sat down on a nearby chair and sighed heavily. He looked down at his feet, fighting the temptation to bury his head in his hands at the mere thought of yet another loss.

“I’m…” Agni help him, she actually stepped forward and placed one hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to be alright, Dad,” the uncomfortable awkwardness in her tone was unmistakable, as if the mere idea of trying to comfort someone was unfamiliar territory for her. Nonetheless, she persisted. “I can fight. You know I can fight. Princess Azula didn’t hang out with me back at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls because she liked my fashion sense.”

“I know… I just…” the official wiped away a tear trickling down the side of his face with the palm of one hand. “I’ve just lost my wife to this damnable city. I don’t want to lose my daughter to it too.”

“You won’t,” she told him firmly. “That’s a promise.”

There was a long, drawn-out period of silence in that small room. Father and daughter stared at one another, letting their eyes do all the talking.

“I’ll…” the nobleman’s voice eventually pierced the heavy quiet. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Mai’s eyes widened a little, the fingerless glove on one hand halfway to her mouth.

“I expect to see you back in Caldera City as soon as this is done,” his tone grew firmer as he fell back into the familiar pattern of command. “And there had better not be a scratch on you, you understand?”

“Dad…” the black-haired girl breathed, mouth hanging slightly agape.

“I…” Ukano sighed heavily, then stood up and slowly opened his arms. “I love you, Mai.”

“…I love you too, Dad,” she returned his embrace for the first time in a long time. “Take care of Tom-Tom until I get back.”

Commander Zhao was in a good mood today.

And why shouldn’t he be? The boy and the whore undoubtedly lay among the fallen tower’s numerous blackened lumps of flame-scorched meat barely recognizable as having once been human. The savage’s chieftain had been so distraught and distracted by the loss of his spawn he hadn’t even realized that he’d agreed to put virtually all the warriors remaining in his city in a fatally compromised position, completely surrounded by troops now under his primary command. And the less enlightened parts of the Fire Navy were still scrambling all over themselves to dig through the wreckage in a futile attempt to find Prince Ozai’s lesser child, and in no position to ask inconvenient questions, let alone do anything to try and stop him.

Zhao strode confidently down the icy streets of the north pole, too pleased with himself to even be bothered by the inconvenience of being unable to use the canals for lack of waterbenders in his retinue. He didn’t bother trying to explain himself or make excuses to the curious-looking savages that stared out from behind the thick curtains of their glassless windows or justify his presence to the ones on the street. The deafening explosion audible all throughout the city made it obvious to everyone that there was some sort of emergency going on down by the docks, and here was a uniformed military man with a brisk, purposeful stride and a formidable-looking group of armed men backing him up. Even a population of fur-clad northern barbarians knew enough to get out of way.

Of thousands of soldiers present for the Fire Lord’s arrival, the commander had only a miniscule portion at his back, formed up into several squads of firebenders and spearmen. These were the men he trusted implicitly, ones bound to him through shared vision or ambition, bribery, blackmail, honor, or simple blind, personal loyalty to an officer they’d served under for years. Whatever the case, he’d spent months picking out and bringing together men he was absolutely sure would follow his orders to the letter, even if the moon turned red in the sky. Or, rather, when it did.

With virtually the whole of the Water Tribe’s forces within the city and every Fire Nation soldier he hadn’t handpicked for their loyalty to himself personally thoroughly distracted by the ruin of the Crown of Fire, there was practically no one left under arms to oppose him. Not that anyone seemed to really be trying – as far as any of the savages in this city knew, he and his men were allies, and merely heading to the palace on some urgent task or another. Many of the streets and canals were all but deserted in any case, as crowds of civilians had gathered atop the outer wall, or by the frigid tunnel leading to the docks, trying to make sense of the tower of black smoke clearly visible to the whole city and the burning vessel at the root of it.

“Halt,” one of two northman clad in blue and white parkas, stationed atop a stairway leading up one of the city’s many inner walls, demanded. He and his partner clutched their gleaming metal spears tightly. “State your name and business.”

“Commander Zhao of the Fire Navy,” he replied from hallway up, not yet wishing to make too much of a scene in a place where there was a remote possibility of attracting unwanted attention too early. “I’m heading to the palace on a retrieval mission at the personal behest of Fire Lord Zuko and your Chief Arnook. This is an emergency situation, lives are at stake, and I don’t have time to waste. Stand aside immediately.”

The tribal warrior looked down at the command, then over at the roiling column of smoke rising from beyond the outer wall, and then glanced nervously over at his partner. The second man seemed to fidget for a moment, then nodded. Both took several steps to the side.

Fools, the commander thought as he strode right between the city guards, his men marching in lockstep behind him.

As soon as he’d climbed up to the next level of the multitiered, icy fortress that was the Northern Water Tribe’s capital city, Zhao immediately set off towards the nearest bridge, and from there towards the primitives’ innermost sanctuary. He had to suppress a small chuckle at their lack of military preparedness. He’d crossed almost the entire city on just the strength of his own word, and there was still no concerted effort to stand in his way. As he and his men went, the grey-haired man actually saw a handful of the savages’ spearmen running in the complete opposite direction, just across the waterway.

The officer smiled. It was almost too easy.

And what came next would be equally as simple. With the deaths of the Fire Lord and Lady at the hands of extremists within the Water Tribe, their unfitness to continue as a mostly independent entity would be thoroughly demonstrated to the entire world. The death of her son would undoubtably spur Lady Ursa to affirm him in everything that he was doing today and would do, in vengeance for her firstborn. The savages’ clear use of waterbending to detonate the sloop’s boiler, after the overwhelmingly generous favor they had been shown over the last few years, would confirm to the whole nation that such people simply could not be trusted. That would make everything he was about to do not only permissible, but laudable.

And for any that might harbor reservations, the results would speak for themselves. With their source of power firmly in Fire Nation hands and their bending useless save at its will, the Northern Water Tribe would have no choice at all but to continue to serve the interests of the superior element – without any of that nonsense about being ranked within the Fire Navy, much less being allowed to pollute the line of Agni with dirty barbarian blood. As all lesser peoples should, they would simply do as they were told, or die.

Simply killing the moon spirit out of hand, here and now, was, admittedly, quite tempting, but the average soldier or sailor was unlikely to take the news that they would now be deprived of the highly effective waterbending treatments they had enjoyed for four years with the war still ongoing very well. The army still stationed on the dockside fleet was emotionally charged enough as it was without being made to watch their wounded fellows dying in front of them because of something he could be held responsible for. Best not to risk their ire being directed at the wrong place.

But a more advantageous time for disposing of it will inevitably come, Zhao thought as he crossed yet another icy bridge, brushing carelessly past the elderly couple straining to get a view of the distant catastrophe from it, eyes firmly locked onto the towering ice palace looming ever larger dead ahead. Slaying the moon is my destiny, after all.

He’d be a legend after the events of today. Zhao, who exposed the waterbenders’ treachery. Zhao, who avenged the Fire Lord’s death. Zhao, who conquered the moon itself! The Fire Nation would tell stories of his greatness across countless generations. The heavens themselves would forever bear his mark upon them.

Doubtless he would be promoted to admiral and given an honored place on the war council for his actions today. And who better to gift the supreme honor of leading the imminent final battle of the war to than the great hero who made the spirits themselves bend to the throne’s will? And after the comet came and Ba Sing Se was theirs as well, who knew? When she came of age, Fire Lord Azula would after all be needing a husband…

Whether it was because of manpower shortages within the city, a complacent sense that no dangerous intruder could possibly have gotten this far inside their fortified capital, or the simple ill-discipline of savages causing them to abandon their posts at the first sign of an incident, there was no one guarding the steps leading up the city’s innermost ring. The officer and his men simply climbed the stairs up the wall without any resistance whatsoever. All that they found waiting for them was a flat, open courtyard with a few totem poles carved from ice, some elevated pools filled with crystal-clear water, and the final wide staircase leading straight up to the royal palace itself.

Headless of the beauty of the concentric rings of water that surrounded the political heart of the Water Tribe, caring nothing for the beauty of the many waterfalls that gushed forth from them, Commander Zhao pressed right on towards his objective. Falling under the gaze of the multitude of carved totemic spirit and animal heads as he crossed the courtyard meant nothing to him. As he finally set foot on the steps leading up to the savages’ multitiered ice palace, the increasingly upbeat officer picked out that there were at least still a few men in blue and white stationed there at its entrance, spears clutched in their hands. With no more need to be concerned about drawing the city’s attention, he almost hoped they’d try to block his way.

They did.

It happened so suddenly.

One moment, the Fire Lord and Lady, the northern chieftain, and their combined entourage were all crammed into one hastily commandeered wooden boat, being pushed along one of the frozen city’s many canals as fast as humanly possible by the combined efforts of two masked waterbenders. The snow-haired princess herself was at the forefront, leaning on the canoe’s decorative prow, a look of increasingly frantic urgency taking shape on her face, for reasons she couldn’t quite determine. She had to fight to tear her blue eyes away from the distant palace looming over the city.

“Stop us here!” she ordered the benders, coughing once into her gloved hand. “There’s another dock right above this wall, we can grab another boat and keep going!”

The northern soldiers brought their craft to a halt with commendable haste, parking it right alongside the icy street at the base of one of the capital’s inner walls. Yue was first off of the boat, ignoring as her fur-lined boots hit the ground the incredulous stares of those few civilians that were out and about rather than gathered at the best vantage point. Her father and husband were right on her tail, and their uniformed fire and waterbenders just behind them.

As the moon child stared anxiously up at the barrier in front of them, the little group formed a quick, tight semicircle as they’d already done several times. Two of the waterbenders who hadn’t been pushing the boat swiftly assumed wide stances at the group’s edge, then simultaneously thrust their arms skywards. The ice at their feet trembled, then erupted, bearing the entire party upwards on a thick pillar of solid ice. It reached the top of the wall in seconds, whereupon another bender pulled an arching bridge from the material of the defensive structure itself.

The royal group hastened over the top of the wall, and just as the Fire Lady had said, found another modest set of docks laid out in from of them, playing host to a number of the Water Tribe’s elegantly carved wooden canoes. Picking one of appropriate size more or less at random, she made straight for it with as much speed as her long skirt would allow.

Without warning, Yue suddenly staggered, crying aloud as a bolt of dizzying pain shot through her skull. The moon child stumbled forward several steps, overwhelmed by an abrupt sense of disorientation. She would perhaps have plunged right into the canal in front of her, had Arnook not managed to grab her by one arm, pulling her back and into her father’s chest.

“Yue!” the concern in Zuko’s tone was obvious as he raced to her side. “Are you alright?”

“…No,” she shook her head, taking a deep breath and steadying herself on the chieftain’s strong arm as waves of nausea hit her. “B-But that’s not important. We need to go, now!”

“Right,” Arnook nodded, even while he wrapped one arm protectively around her waist. “Kenek.”

The indicated waterbender stepped forward to the dockside, making a gesture to liquify the ice binding the canoe’s mooring rope extra solidly to a whalebone hook. There was a momentary pause. Then he did it again. Then he repeated the rather basic kata for a third time in a row. And yet the ice remained stubbornly frozen, showing no reaction to him whatsoever. Yue watched with slowly widening blue eyes as Kenek took an uneasy step backwards and another of her tribesmen tried the same thing, only to get the exact same result.

“What…” that masked man looked down at hands that were beginning to tremble.

Far, far to the south, a spherical blob of water rose, just a little shakily, from a now lukewarm tub of fine, polished brass. Hovering a few feet in the air, it began to stretch out vertically, pulling itself taut at either end and rapidly dropping in temperature as it did so. Only, this time, rather than forming a dual-sided, hand-sized projectile of razor-sharp ice as it had countless times before, the exercise ended when the half-formed thing quivered just once, then collapsed back into the water below with a wet plop.

Growling irritably, the dark-skinned girl hovering over the bathtub’s edge pulled back and repeated the same well-worn sequence of copied arm movements and hand gestures she’d been relentlessly drilling herself on for weeks. Then she closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath, and did it again. And then, with less of a pause, she did it a third time. The fourth such time was accompanied by a good deal more urgency. Nonetheless, the bathwater stubbornly remained right where it was, motionless save for the bobbing of a few little chunks of oblivious ice.

“Wh-What happened to my waterbending?” Katara’s voice, when it came, was little more than a horrified whisper.

“Man,” Ty Lee said, one hand on her hip. “The princess’s been pushing you pretty hard this morning.”

“She yanked me out of bed at sunrise again,” a shirtless, rather flushed-looking Aang moaned from where he leaned against a marble pillar. “Made me do a hundred hot squats, run laps around the practice chamber, and then she made me practice my fire shield by standing me in one spot and shooting fire at me!”

“…Yeah,” the pink-loving acrobat nodded sympathetically. “That sounds like Azula alright.”

“And she says we’re going to do it all over again this afternoon,” the airbender’s swallowed audibly.

“Ouch,” she winced briefly, before her expression brightened again as she looked over him. “Well, at least it looks like you’re getting good at it! I can barely make out any patches of pink on you at all.”

“That’s because she’s started keeping a healer right there on the sidelines every day,” he informed her. “You don’t wanna know what I looked like before that lady got through with me.”

“Yeesh. I know Azula never does anything by half measures, but still,” the girl shook her head. “Kinda glad I’m not a firebender.”

Aang gave her an odd, half-thoughtful sort of look, but said nothing. Ty Lee cocked her head at him momentarily, and then the expression vanished.

“…So anyway,” the young Avatar eventually said, “what brought you up to Caldera at this hour?”

“Oh, right!” the brown-haired girl blinked. “I came up because I found this place down in Shan Zhi Ghen that makes a mean fried rice omelet. It goes great with their breakfast noodles and, well…” she shrugged a little, “I thought you might like it. You haven’t already eaten, have you?”

He gave her a perfectly deadpan stare. “Are you kidding me with that?”

“…Okay, yeah, probably a bit silly to ask,” she acknowledged. “So, do you think you’d like to come along? They should still be serving breakfast for at least another hour or so.”

“Mmm… okay, sure!” he nodded, his face brightening noticeably. “I’ll go get dressed, and we can hitch a ride down the mountain on Appa.”

“Works for me.”

“Great!”

Standing up straight, twirling his glider nimbly in one hand, the young airbender strode right past the circus performer with his signature upbeat smile on his face. He’d only made it a few paces beyond her when he gave a sudden, high-pitched yelp, as though he’d just been stung by a centipede hornet. The girl’s grey eyes widened as Aang staggered forward another step and swayed dangerously, but then he rallied, catching himself on his staff.

The young Avatar was bent over, fresh beads of sweat trickling down his face, leaning heavily on his glider for support. He took several deep breaths in rapid succession, loudly enough to echo faintly in the towering hallway that surrounded them.

“What’s the matter, Aang?” Ty Lee asked, putting one hand on his shoulder with a concerned expression.

“I don’t know,” the last airbender shook his head. “I just… suddenly feel faint.”

“Oh no,” Yue put a white-gloved hand over her mouth, as tears welled up in her blue eyes. “No…”

“I never thought anyone would be so brazen,” Chief Arnook said grimly, surveying the scene at the top of the stairway.

Almost all of the palace’s usual guardians had joined their chief and the remainder of the Water Tribe’s forces assembled on the docks. The force that her father had left behind to watch over the gate amounted little more than a token speedbump to any serious enemy – a mere four men, all nonbenders. Between the city’s fortress walls and the two powerful armies on hand, there had been absolutely no reason to suppose anything more would be needed today.

“First the servants and guards aboard the ship, now here too?” the snow-haired princess moaned as she looked over the motionless forms of her tribesmen, jet-blacked scorch marks seared into their thick blue and white parkas. “How many people are going to die today?!”

“…No more, if I can help it,” Zuko vowed from her side, taking a moment to clutch one of her hands in his and rub the back of it with his thumb. “Zhao is going to answer for this.”

“That’s old S-Sutook…” his wife took one step forward, a few tears trickling down her face. “He used to sneak me extra sweets from the kitchens whenever we had some, when I was just a kid.” She sniffed audibly, then coughed once before looking up. “Why would anyone want to kill him?!”

“Nothing that’s happened today is making any sense to me,” her father said, his expression dark.

“But whatever’s going on needs to be stopped,” her husband finished, releasing her hand and looking over his shoulder. “All firebenders, form up. Be ready for anything.”

“Yes sir,” a masked soldier nodded.

“This is our home,” the northern chieftain declared resolutely. “We’re not hanging back now.”

His son-in-law gave him a concerned look. “But… your waterbenders…”

“No man of north can call himself one without a warrior’s training,” he answered, drawing a scrimshawed dagger made from a long, serrated sea beast’s tooth from his belt. “Grab their weapons.”

The strangely powerless masked waterbenders that had accompanied their chief and the Fire Lord complied without hesitation, whether that meant picking up discarded weapons from the ground or quite literally prying a spear from a comrade’s death grip. The welfare of the tribe came before all else, after all.

“I’m coming too,” the Fire Lady added, wiping away her tears with one sleeve.

“No, you’re not!” her husband and father said, simultaneously.

“Is this really the time to be arguing?!” she asked.

“It’s not an argument,” Zuko said simply. “It’s an order.”

“B-But…” she swallowed. “I-If you leave me behind, you’ll have to leave guards with me, and that means you won’t have as many with you.”

“And if you come with us, you might become a target,” Arnook told her. “Your husband is right.”

“Zuko, please,” she begged her king. “I’ll stay back behind the guards. I promise I’ll run if anything happens. Please. Please just take me with you.”

The young Fire Lord hesitated, golden eyes flicking between the young woman besides him and the carved wooden double doors directly ahead.

“…This is where I grew up. These people are my people. Please.”

“…Fine,” he said at last, gesturing with one hand. “You’re in the back. Anything happens, you run and don’t look back. That’s an order, and that’s final.” He set his gaze firmly on the palace in front of him, ignoring the older chieftain’s obvious look of trepidation. “Now let’s move!”

The cavernous, frozen halls of the Northern Water Tribe’s political heart were, for good or for ill, all but deserted as the combined group raced through them as fast as their collective legs could carry them. Even with so many civilians away on the walls or bridges, trying to discern what was happening down with the royal ship, Yue feared that her childhood home had become the site of a massacre, and her blue eyes darted this way and that, searching familiar halls for the women and handful of men that served there. Fortunately, if nothing else it seemed as though some combination of the sounds of combat immediately outside and several squads of soldiers surging in through the front door had put the servants to flight, and the commander’s men hadn’t bothered to pursue. There were no more bodies to be found.

Needless to say, the combined forces of the Fire Nation and Water Tribe took the shortest possible route through the palace, arriving swiftly at the low, circular wooden gate at its rear that marked the entrance to the north’s holiest site. Nobody hesitated, but Chief Arnook was first through, followed immediately by Fire Lord Zuko. While their guards poured through after them, from her position at the rear Yue could make out a different voice coming from the other side.

“…Zhao,” a man was half-shouting, “the Invincible!”

“What is the meaning of this?!” her father’s voice was loud and clear even through the wall.

“What have you done, Zhao?” the Fire Lord demanded.

Yue ducked beneath the low door just behind one of the last of the Imperial Firebenders, finding the narrow strip of land just on the other side now rather crowded. Soldiers of two nations had spilled out onto either side of the narrow twin paths on either side of the crystal-clear meltwater, with her father at the head of one such impromptu column and her husband at the other. A little ways further down, backed by the endless flow the water, lay the north pole’s one and only outpost of green grass and flowering bushes. The two bridges leading to the small island were already occupied by outwards-facing Fire Nation soldiers, with a further contingent lined up directly atop the sacred ground itself. And there, at the center of it all, a wet, squirming black bag clutched tightly in one fist, was Commander Zhao.

“You’re alive?” the grey-haired officer was staring across the water at the young king with wide amber eyes.

“Your majesty!” one of the masked firebenders standing behind Zhao called out, his voice a mixture of surprise and elation as he took a step forward. “We thought you were dead!”

“What have you done?!” the southern king repeated his snarled demand to the soldiers. “What have all of you done? What are you doing here? Why did you attack our friends?”

“I…” the commander blinked once, the startled look his face quickly vanishing. “I did what was my duty to do, of course, your majesty. I moved to contain the situation and avenge the north’s treachery against you in the swiftest and most bloodless way I could think to do.”

“Treachery? Treachery?!” the fifty-year-old chief’s expression appeared to be caught halfway between shock and raw fury. “You’re the one betraying us!”

“What kind of a fool do you take me for?” the other man shot back. “The Crown of Fire was brought low by a boiler explosion. That ship had the safest, most modern engine system in the entire fleet. It had no flaws, no weak points, no stress fractures – I know, I inspected it myself. The only possible way it could have been so abruptly breached in such a catastrophic manner…” here his head turned towards Zuko, “is through the use of waterbending.”

From where she stood, not far from the still-open rear entrance to the palace, the Fire Lady’s eyes widened at the sheer audacity of the accusation.

“Once I realized what had happened, I thought it prudent to take men whose loyalties I was sure of and act decisively to defang these traitorous savages.”

“Defang?!” Arnook hissed in naked outrage. “You murdered men of my tribe just outside the palace gates!”

“I gave them the chance to step aside and let me through peacefully, as did every other set of sentries between the docks and the palace,” he replied. “It isn’t my fault they refused to see reason and stand down in the face of a superior force.”

“You had no right to do any of this!” Zuko shouted across the water at him, an accompanying burst of smoke coming out his nose. “The Fire Nation does not break alliances or attack its friends over a suspicion!”

“Oh, I assure you, it’s much more than a mere suspicion. You see,” Zhao said with a shake of his head, “these northern savages are not our friends. In fact, they’ve been holding out on the Fire Nation from the very beginning. They’ve had a source of immense spiritual power right at their fingertips this entire time that could have been of great use to our nation in achieving its destiny, and never breathed a word of it. I’d say that after today’s blatant assassination attempt, that kind of treachery more than suffices to declare the entire agreement made in bad faith from the start, and hence null and void.”

“What madness is this?!” the northern chieftain demanded. “Holding out? I gave your lord my daughter, you think we-”

“The spirits of the moon and ocean,” the officer interrupted. “These koi fish swimming around in this oasis of theirs.” An unpleasant smile formed on his face. “The two are one and the same.”

“What?!” Yue’s eyes bulged, and she had to cover her mouth against a sudden onset of fresh coughing.

Everyone who knew anything about the holy place knew the twin black and white koi fish dancing their endless dance in the sacred waters were no ordinary animals, of course. They never slept, ate, reproduced, or died in the manner of any other fish. They had been there as far back as the oldest crumbling scrolls or greyest reciters of the oral traditions could report, simply swimming endlessly in circles in the center of their pond. But to imagine that those simple koi fish literally were Tui and La, the ancient patron spirits to whom her tribe had prayed since time immemorial…

“Impossible…” Arnook breathed, his own eyes wide.

“Oh, I assure you, not only is it possible, but it’s also very much the truth,” the commander’s smile grew wider. “And these two pretending not to know that is irrefutable proof of the depths of their perfidy against the Fire Nation. I have all the evidence I need right here.” He held up the dripping, squirming black bag. “From the way your men are dressed, Arnook, I’d say they’re waterbenders. But they’re carrying blades.” He smiled unpleasantly at Yue’s father. “Did something happen to their bending?”

The dark-skinned man bared his teeth at his armored counterpart but didn’t dignify him with a reply.

“I have the moon spirit, Tui herself, the source of all waterbending, contained within this very bag,” he continued. “And as long as I do, waterbending will only work-”

“Put it back in the water!” the Fire Lord gave him a direct command. “If that koi fish is the moon spirit, what happens if it suffocates?!”

“It’s not going to suffocate, your majesty,” Zhao told him. “It takes will to kill a spirit such as this. This thing no more needs to breathe than it needs to eat or to sleep. It’s already been out of the water for several minutes, and it’s just as lively as ever.” He held up the cloth container, and as if on cue the occupant gave an especially energetic wriggle. “But if I were to put it back in the oasis now, it would restore these traitors’ waterbending.”

“His majesty gave you an order, Commander,” one member of the Royal Procession, standing right behind his sovereign, growled ominously.

“Without having all the facts,” the navy man countered. “I can assure you that I’m operating in the best interests of the Fire Nation.”

“You have no right to decide that!” Yue’s voice carried across the water, echoing easily throughout the icy canyon.

“Extraordinary circumstances require extraordinary measures, Princess,” the grey-haired man put special emphasis on the last word.

“How dare you address your Fire Lady in that manner?” her husband looked, if anything, even angrier than he had a second ago. The guards behind him, already poised for action, shifted subtly into what Yue recognized as firebending stances. A few of the men around Zhao looked at one another, uncertainty on at least some of the visible faces.

“Fire Lord, the Northern Water Tribe has been double-crossing the Fire Nation from the very beginning of our arrangement, and I have proven it here. That among them are also the ones responsible for the destruction of your flagship, the murder of your servants, your soldiers, is also beyond any doubt. But they’ve miscalculated,” he held up his prize again. “There are more Fire Nation soldiers than Water Tribe ones in the city. There are more Fire Nation soldiers than Water Tribe ones in this oasis.”

The Fire Navy man shifted his gaze back over towards Yue’s father, giving him a very unpleasant leer. The girl’s father’s own blue eyes were widening slightly, and he glanced over across the water towards his son-in-law.

“And we have the moon spirit. Their bending is useless unless we say otherwise,” Zhao continued. “We hold every advantage here. We can simply walk out of here with our prize and there’s nothing any of them can do to stop us.”

The snow-haired girl could feel the blood draining from her face as it dawned on her just how accurate that assessment really was.

“There’s no more need for treaties. There’s no more need for political marriages. With this spirit in hand, the Water Tribe will have no choice but to give in to whatever demands the Fire Nation chooses to make. And with the showing of their true colors, honor doesn’t bind us to anything. They betrayed our nation first by inaction, and then by attempted assassination of our sovereign the moment he set foot on their territory. We owe them nothing.”

Arnook’s daughter felt her eyes going wide again, her mouth hanging slightly agape. Her blue eyes shot anxiously over to the back of her new husband’s head.

“All you need to do, your majesty, is repudiate that woman,” Zhao said, gaze slowly sliding back over to the moon child. “And return to the Fire Nation, finding a proper wife there. She’s given you every reason to do so. In hiding a secret like this, after swearing loyalty and obedience to you, she’s shown you exactly where her true loyalties lie. Surely you can see that you can never trust her. What else will she hide from you?”

“I didn’t know!” Yue protested earnestly. “Zuko, after all the time we’ve spent together, you couldn’t think I’d-”      

“And what about you?” the king demanded, looking straight at his nominal subordinate.

The commander blinked. “What?”

“If this news was so important for our nation, why didn’t you ever say anything about it?” the still bruised and battered Fire Lord demanded, not budging an inch from where he stood. “The throne has heard nothing of this before today. How long have you known about these spirits? If you think the knowing silence that you’re alleging was such a betrayal for the Water Tribe, then why would you as a sincere patriot keep such information from your nation?”

“…I wouldn’t have been believed,” Zhao replied after a moment’s pause. “And I had no wish to interfere with your mother’s efforts to see our nation victorious. But that was before I saw the true depths of these savages’ treachery.”

If the officer noticed the way that Yue visibly bared her teeth at the accusation, he chose to ignore it.

“Now I see what a mistake such negligence was. I see that the spirits of moon and ocean have been within the Fire Nation’s grasp this whole time, just waiting to be found and seized, brought back to Caldera as spoils of war.”

“Are you insane?!” the snow-haired girl couldn’t take it anymore, raising her voice in spite of her sore throat and the unpleasant feelings it triggered in her chest. “The Fire Nation is an archipelago! We depend on the balance of moon and the ocean, the tides and the ocean currents, just to stay alive! You have no idea what removing the moon spirit from its home, from its partner will do to any of that! Your interfering with them is risking the death of us all!”

One or two of the men behind the ranking officer actually looked at one another as she said that, as if that somehow had genuinely not occurred to them.

“My wife is absolutely right,” Zuko growled in a low, dangerous tone. “And in case you’ve forgotten, Commander, these decisions rest with the Fire Lord, not you. I say there’s nothing justifying treating the north as anything but our nation’s faithful friend of four years even if everything you’re saying about them and this oasis is true, and we are not risking the balance of the world on the basis of your suspicions! I order you and all your soldiers to stand down and release that koi fish. Now!”

It was subtle, but the northern girl’s blue eyes caught Papa quietly releasing a breath she hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.

“Hmmm…” Zhao’s eyes flicked from Zuko, to the path behind him leading out from the oasis, and back to Zuko again. “No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“You dare defy your Fire Lord?” one of the masked soldiers of the Royal Procession hissed in naked outrage.

“…Why should I accept orders on matters this weighty from a child who still takes orders from his mother?”

One or two of the men behind him actually chuckled at that, even as the Fire Lord’s face visibly tightened.

“He himself rejected his full power until his coming of age, and his incredible naivete in the face of such blatant foreign treachery proves that he’s still unready to wield it in his own or the nation’s best interests,” he shook his head again. “I think instead, I’m going to march right back down to the ships and seize my – the Fire Nation’s – destiny.” He looked over at Arnook. “And if any of you savages try to stand in my way…” he held a fist level with the bag.

“You absolute lunatic,” the chieftain murmured, before raising his voice. “Do you have any idea what you’re threatening to do?!”

“You’re going nowhere with that fish,” the Fire Lord said, the air in his vicinity now growing perceptibly warmer. “The Fire Nation won’t turn on its friends, won’t endanger the whole world because you want an excuse to take one of the great spirits home as a trophy!”

“I told you,” the navy man’s voice was beginning to deepen, his brow creasing. “I’m only acting in the Fire Nation’s best-”

“The Fire Nation needs the moon to maintain the cycle of life as much as anyone else! What you just threatened to do puts everything at risk!” Zuko didn’t allow him to finish. He then shifted his gaze. “If any of you men on that island have an ounce of loyalty left amongst you to the throne or the empire,” he addressed the soldiers behind the officer, “then obey your Fire Lord and take the Commander into custody, immediately. He’s guilty of insubordination and recklessly endangering our entire nation…” his eyes narrowed even as the grey-haired man’s widened, “at the very least.”

“Stay right where you are,” Zhao’s countermanding voice cut in before any of his men had time to consider that. “We’ve come this far. We’ve seized an unprecedented prize for the Fire Nation. We are not backing down now, in the face of some child’s naivete.”

“You will obey your Fire Lord!” Yue’s hands had curled into fists, and she interjected herself before her husband could respond. “Anything less is treason,” she reminded the Fire Navy personnel, looking out over them across the water with unblinking blue eyes. “Do any of you actually think you’ll be rewarded for this? Do you-” here she was interrupted by a sudden cough, “think Lady Ursa or the admiralty will commend you for defying your liege and endangering the whole nation on the orders of some mid-level officer? You’ll return to the Fire Nation to face prison if you just go along with this – and that’s if you’re lucky!”

“Don’t fall for her tricks,” their leader countered with an obvious sense of urgency, as all around him some of the masked and unmasked men began looking uncertainly at one another, or even fidgeting a little bit. “Now that these savages’ secret is out, this one will stop at nothing to make sure anyone who was bold enough to stand against them today suffers for it. She might let you slink away like cowards today, but you’ll all find yourselves in exile, in a cell, or an executioner’s block soon enough if you listen to her. The only way any of us will get out of this now is if we return home with something to show for our efforts.” He held up the squirming spirit’s bag in one clenched fist. “Return home as conquerors of the moon itself.”

“He’s lying to you,” the Fire Lord told them. “Anyone who shows his loyalty to the crown by seizing this man has nothing to-”

“Silence your tongue!” Zhao barked harshly, enough so to immediately regain the troops’ full attention. “I am not wasting any more time on pointless cowardice! I am not going to be meekly shuffled off into some prison cell. I am returning to my ship. I am seizing the moon spirit for the Fire Nation. I am forging my legend! And if you know what’s good for you,” his voice deepened into a growl of his own as his amber eyes glared across at Zuko. “You’ll stay out of my way, boy.”

The Imperial Firebenders, already tense in their firebending poses, bristled yet further at his words.

“Filthy traitor!” one of them spat at him.

“I’m not the traitor here, you are,” the officer shot back with a naked snarl. “You and all the others who’ve been carrying out the orders of a lowly princess consort to squander the blood of Agni, the future of the Fire Nation, on a pathetic savage whore from-”

“Agni Kai!” the Fire Lord abruptly roared at him.

“What?” the mutinous officer blinked once. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me!” Zuko pointed one finger directly at the rebellious commander’s chest, and his voice was so loud and strong that all who were present could clearly hear. “As your Fire Lord, I order you to face me in an Agni Kai! Right here,” he growled. “Right now.”

And that was it. No firebending officer of the Fire Nation could refuse such an order, especially in the sight of his already uncertain fellows, against a mere teenager. One of Agni’s blood, demanding a divinely-sanctioned method of conflict resolution. No one could possibly justify following such a coward over their own Fire Lord. If he flinched away here, no matter what happened with the moon spirit, then there was no chance of him leaving this place with the glory he obviously sought, and little enough of him leaving it under his own power. But if he defeated the nation’s ruler in sacred honor duel…

“…Hold this,” Zhao handed the still-twitching bag to one of the firebenders behind him with some reluctance before turning back to face the Fire Lord. “This won’t take long.”

“You will learn respect, Zhao,” declared Ozai’s son, his expression dark. “And suffering will be your teacher.”

Meanwhile, far away, Fire Lady Ursa knelt atop a cushion on a palace balcony facing the refreshing morning sun, a pleasant smile on her face and a half-finished cup of tea set out to the side. Set directly before her, in a rectangular jet black pot rimmed with shining gold, was a bit of a hobby she’d been working on for the past year or two. Propagated from a cutting of a larger tree from the palace gardens, her little bonsai cheery tree had started its yearly growth a bit earlier than usual this season. Earlier than most of the other plants in Caldera too, including its forebearer. Perhaps she’d fed it a bit more than strictly necessary or kept it too warm.

While that was, in and of itself, just fine, she’d recently noticed a small problem. One of the new branches had broken free of her wiring and was curling back in the wrong direction. If it was allowed to grow in fully, it would be blocking off the sunlight from several of the branches lower down on the trunk. The leaves on these would undoubtedly wither and die, leaving an irregular and ugly bare patch amidst the usual pleasing pink when its springtime blooms came in.

And that was why the regent held a pair of steel sheers in her right hand, fingers wrapped carefully around the decorative brass hilt. Slowly, carefully, the noblewoman guided blades down the offending branch, until they rested gingerly at the point connecting it to the larger stem. Then, with a single quick, precise snip, the half-green cherry branch tumbled off, bouncing off the rim of the pot to land on the highly polished table beneath it.

“Thank you, little one,” Ursa addressed the doubtlessly minute spirit living within the plant, stroking its trunk gently with one long-nailed finger and smiling affectionately at it. “Your flowers will come in beautifully this year, I just know it.”

With that, she withdrew her hand, set down the sheers, and reached instead for the cutting. Holding the malformed branch between two fingers, after a few seconds she set it alight with a thought. She clung to it as it rapidly burned, rather like a match, and collected the meager ashes in the palm of her hand. Then the regent dumped the little grey mass back into the pot, mixing it in with the rich black soil so that even her plant’s mistakes would go back to feed into its ultimate renewal.

Sometimes, in order for something beautiful to emerge, it was necessary that certain unruly, unhealthy elements be pruned away. It was, the Fire Lady felt, a good lesson to be reminded of.

Two groups of soldiers, one drawn from the Fire Navy and one a hodgepodge of Imperial Firebenders and Water Tribe men, faced one another across the cavernous meeting chamber of the tribe’s royal palace. The loud pounding of the room’s waterfall echoed all throughout the room. The Fire Lady might have been imagining things, but something inside her felt sure that she’d never heard the current sounding fiercer or more cacophonous. Amidst the group on the opposite side of the room, one masked firebender still clutched the bag with the struggling koi fish inside close to his chest, a balled fist at his side, just in case anyone had any thoughts of attempting to wrest it from him. Anyone on either side, judging from the way he was standing visibly apart even from his fellow naval armsmen.

In between the two groups of soldiers, at either end of the vast crescent moon and wave symbol etched into the blocks of ice that made up the chamber’s floor, Fire Lord Zuko and Commander Zhao knelt with their backs to one another. Both had one knee and one fist pressed to the floor, eyes closed for a final moment of meditation. Neither had the traditional vestments to hand, so both had simply improvised. Zuko by shedding his royal regalia, Zhao by stripping the armor from his officer’s uniform. Considering the ambient temperature, neither had removed their shoes.

Then the opening ritual reached its climax as both firebenders rose simultaneously to their feet, facing one another directly in the traditional opening stance. There being no gong to ring in this part of the palace, the two men circled one another slowly, warily, their boots tracing the edge of the titanic sigil on either side. After several seconds of this, it was the Fire Lord that made the first move, stepping fully into the impromptu arena with a thrown punch launching a kuai ball-sized orb of orange and yellow at the older man’s chest.

It was immediately obvious, at least to Yue, that Zuko was fighting at a disadvantage. His body had been battered in the pagoda’s collapse, and even after the ministrations of her tribe’s healers was still showing the signs. What’s more, he had also recently sprinted across the city at a breakneck pace, while Zhao was entirely fresh.

The effects of the injury were most readily apparent to her on the third move in the king’s opening sequence. After the first fireball, after a quick sweeping kick that sent a crescent-shaped wave of fire at his opponent’s ankles, the young man advanced another step and threw another punch with his whole body, this time with his left arm. The moment he did so, the side of his face visible to her tightened noticeably, and the flaming orb that emerged was smaller and more orange than the first. He kept going though, pivoting into a broad, diagonal downwards kick that generated a second crescent before stepping seamlessly into a repeat of that move with the opposite leg, advancing all the while.

With plenty of distance and warning, Zhao simply sidestepped the opening shot. Then he brought his hands together to form a flame-tipped pyramid before crouching low and catching the incoming wave on them, allowing the bulk of the attack to part around him like a rock in the sea while the weaker fireball soared above his head. He kept himself in profile and took several quick steps to the left to avoid another attack, then crossed his arms with a look of heavy concentration before abruptly ripping them in either direction to disperse the final incoming wave with a minimum of energy.

The officer’s counterattack was as abrupt as it was devastating. He spun on one heel, throwing the full weight of his body behind a dual strike with both fists that sent a man-sized fiery comet hurdling back her husband’s way. He followed up with a blow to the left, then right, both of which set orbs of fire as wide as his torso onto arcing paths that would see them hit both of Zuko’s flanks almost simultaneously. The Fire Lord responded by throwing his entire body into a quick sideways roll that saw him getting his feet back on the ground the same moment his opponent’s opening salvo struck the snarling face of an ice-carved spirit totem right behind where he had just been standing. Zhao’s first attack exploded against it with a deafening boom that reverberated throughout the great hall, and the next two likewise detonated, utterly demolishing an entire totem pole as tall as four men standing on one another’s shoulders, and many times as thick. All who were present had deep cause to be thankful that it was decorative, rather than load bearing.

Even so, the snow-haired girl had to raise one arm to shield her face as chunks of smoking ice hurled by it, before being forcibly pulled deeper into her side’s crowd by unknown hands from behind. Debris continued to rain down around them. The moon child might not have been a firebender, but she’d seen enough of the southern art over the past few years, whether in frequent spars between her husband and her sister-in-law, the royal guards’ vigorous training sessions, or in a Caldera City Agni Kai to deduce the practitioner’s intent. She recognized that the officer’s flaming attacks weren’t spread as widely as they could have been but were packing far more of a concentrated punch than ought to have been necessary.

He’s not just trying to win. He’s trying to kill Zuko, Yue realized, eyes widening as she lowered her arm. In the one place where he could claim divine mandate for it.

An Agni Kai was to the first burn or the point of incapacitation, not the death, and the innate resistance of fire benders to their own element made such tragedies relatively rare. But still, when intense flames were being flung back and forth, occasionally such things did happen. It was the only time when the sacred blood of the sun spirit could be shed without blame or punishment, according to the Fire Nation’s traditional laws.

Lady Ursa would be determined to see Zhao dead for such a thing no matter what custom said, of that the northern princess was sure. But that didn’t mean that he knew that, or that he had no plans to use the fall of the Fire Lord and the capture of the moon spirit to claim Agni’s mandate for his acts of treason to the rest of the fleet. Absent Zuko, it was entirely possible that they might choose to follow one so apparently favored of the sun spirit over a foreign Fire Lady.

Her assessment was confirmed in her own eyes by the commander’s very next action, which was to go on an all-out offensive before her husband could fully regain his footing. The steel-haired officer took several steps directly towards his opponent, each and every one accompanied by what she could clearly recognize as the firebending equivalent of a hammer blow, none of which could possibly be pulled in time should even a single one strike home. In no position to throw himself into another dodge, Zuko was left to hurriedly envelope himself in a cocoon of yellow and orange. The conflagration that began when the first blasts started detonating against it was spectacular, the heat of it so intense that Yue could feel it on her face even from her position on the room’s outer edges, sheltered behind layers of armored men.

He’s trying to kill him! She thought to herself as the Fire Lord was driven back by the sheer force of the barrage, breathing hard, body half enveloped in thick grey smoke. He’s trying to kill him!

But what could she do about it? She no bender of any kind, and like most women of her tribe had lived her young life in profound gratitude that the art of war had never been thrust upon her. The battlefield had never called to her in the way it sometimes seemed to do for her marital sister, and up until this moment she had never held any regrets about that fact.

There was a brief lull in the combat, as both sides took a moment to catch their respective breaths, beginning to circle one another once again as clouds of grey smoke continued to waft through the arena. Her own heart beginning to pound inside her chest, Yue was left to, briefly, compare this to the many practice duels she’d seen between Zuko and Azula. Her marital sister’s firebending attacks were considerably smaller and more precise than the navy man’s, the deceptive intensity behind each dart of star-white flame much more focused, and she’d seen her husband honing his defensive techniques against them on many an occasion. On the other hand, she was reasonably sure she’d never seen Azula genuinely trying to take someone’s life, and the raw destructive force behind each and every explosive strike wasn’t something that she was that familiar with either.

In spite of the sheer power he had just unleashed on his opponent, it was the Commander, not the Fire Lord, who returned first to the offensive. His first kata was one she recognized as being from the devastating Thundering Rhino style, a technique developed long ago and refined over the course of a hundred years of war specifically to pulverize the hardiest defenses an earthbender could conjure. Zuko only just avoided his foe’s first strike by dint of some particularly quick and agile footwork, and it crashed into the waterfall at the back of the chamber instead with enough impact to audibly rattle the ceiling overhead and fill much of the chamber with clouds of scalding steam. But the older man didn’t stop there. Quite the contrary, he transitioned quickly from one heavy blow to the next, acting for all the world as if his smaller opponent were an Earth Kingdom fortress whose walls he meant to shatter with the sheer weight of his barrage.

In the midst of it, one of Zhao’s attacks went wide, skirting well around the Fire Lord and heading on a collision course for some of the men gathered around Arnook and his daughter. Three of the royal bodyguards imposed a bright wall of imperial red uniforms, working together to disperse the stray shot well before it could do any damage. As a wave of heat washed harmlessly over her face, the northern princess found herself getting an idea. She took several steps further back into the crowd, which continued to give the Agni Kai its rapt attention, and broke two men away from the spectacle by tugging gingerly on their wrists.

“There’s a side route leading back outside,” she whispered to one of her tribesmen and an Imperial Firebender when the two masked men turned their heads towards her, pointing discretely to an opening in the chamber’s high wall. “Down that hall. Third door on the left, then take a right at the second passage and you’ll find yourself outside the northern wall.”

“You want us to get help, your majesty?” the red-clad man leaned in and muttered back.

“Of course,” Yue hissed quietly, covering her mouth against a single quick, hacking cough. “While they’re all distracted. Run back to the docks. Tell Captain Kenzo that the Fire Lord needs his army. Gather up more soldiers from the ships, and as many firebenders as you can manage in a hurry and rush them here on the double. Go! Now!”

The faceless man in blue and white gave her a silent nod. Together, he and his impromptu partner began subtly backing away from the others, towards the nearby wall. They waited until the combatants were exchanging a particularly eye-catching bout of firebending, then turned and dashed out of the exit she’d indicated before the spots had a chance to clear from anyone’s eyes.

This wasn’t a fair fight to begin with, she rationalized as she watched them slip away out of the corner of her eye, before returning her attention to the action. And what was it Azula said? If the situation is unfair, you shouldn’t be.

The icy arena before them was looking increasingly worse for wear. Zhao continued with his ruthless, relentless rhythm of high-explosive firebending attacks, sending orbs, waves, and jets of brilliant orange and yellow flying across the meeting room in a veritable stream. Detonations were almost a constant now, whether that be against the décor, the walls, the floor, or against a periodically appearing fire shield. Zuko for his part ducked, weaved, and dodged where possible, relying far more on his footwork than the strength of the defenses his arms could conjure to avoid the fateful burn. Next to the Commander, the Fire Lord’s own counterattacks looked comparatively desultory – his fireballs the size of heads rather than torsos, his jets only just long enough to reach his opponent before petering out rather than rocketing right past when he missed, the entire mix of his flames leaning noticeably more towards orange than yellow. They even featured the occasional flash of red.

Come on, Zuko, she pleaded silently, watching him retreat again in the face of sheer aggression and raw power. You just need to hold out.

Between his injuries, his exhaustion, and his opponent’s far greater experience with live combat, it was unfortunately becoming an open question to the increasingly anxious young women of whether or not her king could. The momentum of the duel was clearly with the naval officer, who continued to launch barrage after barrage of overpowering firebending attacks at the royal teenager, who in turn was forced to keep moving, rarely able to steal a moment in which to collect himself. As the fight continued, a fiery shield was far and away Zuko’s own most common bending move, conjured whenever the attacks were too rapid or large to be entirely avoided. No single strike had wholly penetrated it, but it seemed a near thing each time the flames connected, and as the duel dragged on, she witnessed several occasions where he was forced to give ground before the sheer kinetic force and explosive power of his opponent’s ferocious style. Worse, the increasing sagging in his left arm was perceptible even at this distance, through all the smoke and shimmering heat.

“You’re meant to be the Fire Lord, boy,” Zhao’s voice, dripping with contempt, came during a brief lull in the combat. The older man stared at the younger with a furrowed brow and a face covered in a thin sheen of sweat, taking several deep breaths. “But all you do is duck and run like a coward.”

Zuko, himself breathing hard, gritted his teeth but didn’t dignify the remark with any reply beyond a ball of orange-red flame launched from his right fist. It flew straight across the chamber towards his opponent’s face, only for a hand wrapped in yellow to disperse it harmlessly with a single precise upwards chop. Even as yet another shower of sparks scattered across the frozen floor, Tui’s abductor launched himself right back into the fray with yet another brutal attack sequence, driving the dark-haired young man right back onto the back foot.

Beyond the two dueling firebenders, the princess bore witness to a second, brief scuffle. One of the spearmen in Zhao’s group had used the opportunity provided by the spectacular fire duel to edge closer and closer towards the masked bender still clutching the moon spirit close until, finally, he evidently judged it enough. Perhaps out of some lingering sense of comradery, though, the mustached man didn’t take the opportunity to stab his fellow armsman in the back, and that proved his undoing. When he made his move, it came in the form of an abrupt, all-out lunge, grabbing for the spirit’s prison. The faceless soldier noticed at the last possible second, spinning reflexively on his heels and lashing out with a flaming low kick.

The northerner could do little but watch, helpless to intervene, as the moon’s would-be savior got his legs taken out from under him. He hit the icy floor hard mere feet from his objective, and before he could recover the firebender was on top of him. In a crude and brutal but undoubtedly effective move, he simply kicked and stamped his twice-traitorous comrade in his helmeted head, over and over again, until the nonbender just stopped moving. Then the victor of the skirmish shoved the limp form of the loser a few feet back across the ice with one foot, towards the remainder of the Fire Navy group. Then he looked over his shoulder at the rest of them, as if silently daring anyone else to try anything. No one did.

Though she winced, all Yue could do from where she stood was silently vow to seek out that man and reward him, if it were possible, once this was all over. Then she returned her attention to the duel proper.

It wasn’t going well.

The injured young Fire Lord was constantly on the move, having to shift positions every few seconds to stay out of the meteoric barrage of attacks that his steel-haired opponent continued to unleash. With one of his arms now hanging all but limp at his side and his feet kept planted firmly on the ground to maintain maximum mobility, the younger man now barely seemed to be firebending at all. He threw the occasional punch, yes, but the strikes that produced were an annoyance at best to a master firebender. If anything, such relatively feeble attacks just seemed to encourage Zhao in his own offensive.

For his part, said Commander’s continuing efforts were nothing if not absolutely relentless and overpowering. He advanced where the teenager fell back, doggedly pursuing his opponent while maintaining just enough distance not to be threatened by the frequent explosions that he himself was causing. Despite the length of the duel – it had already gone on longer than any other Agni Kai that Yue had ever seen – he seemed determined not to allow his blasts to become anything less than utterly lethal even if it meant that they had to sacrifice something of their area of effect. Judging by the increasingly prominent snarl on his face and the dark sweat stains that were becoming visible on the ash grey of his uniform’s shirt in spite of the cold the sheer effort required to keep it up was taxing him, but nonetheless he refused to allow his pace to slacken. In fact, if anything it seemed to pick up over time, as he took fewer and fewer moments to rest in between sequences.

Thus the fight continued for… honestly the northern princess didn’t know how long. Time didn’t seem meaningful to her right then. She only had eyes for the dance of death playing out in front of her, for the dark-haired young man that appeared to be staying only a half-step ahead of each hammer blow. Color slowly drained from her face as a minute went by without her king conjuring a shield of flames in his own defense, then two. He was left to rely solely on his own agility and the vastness of the scorched, smoking empty space all around him not simply be trampled into oblivion by the increasingly furious-looking officer’s Thundering Rhino style.

Then Zuko made a mistake, or got unlucky, or Zhao outfoxed him, she didn’t know which and it didn’t matter. All she knew was that he had been backed up to within mere inches of a half-melted totem pole by jets of orange-ish flame streaming by his left and right flanks. All she felt was the sensation of her heart caught in her throat as the veteran officer pivoted suddenly on one heel throwing the weight of his entire body behind both of his clenched fists and hurdling a red-rimmed orange meteor as large as he was straight for his stricken liege. It crossed the distance between them in the space of a heartbeat. There was sudden, brilliant flash, a resounding thunderclap, and a roiling wave of heat that washed over all the spectators present.

“Zuko!” Yue heard herself scream.

A thick column of black smoke was all that remained of her husband, the spirit totem he’d been pressed against, and much of the floor surrounding them. All around her, men groaned. Across the room, some if not all of the navy men cheered. For his own part, a Commander Zhao thoroughly drenched in sweat, face visibly flush with exertion, more smoke wafting from the backs of his knuckles, allowed himself to resume his full height but was too occupied with attempting to catch his breath for even the luxury of a triumphant grin. He went right on trying to do that until a sudden fiery yellow jet went whizzing right by his head, singing the tip of one of his prominent sideburns.

The young woman’s blue eyes darted right to see that the roiling black mass had diminished somewhat. Through the haze of smoke and lingering showers of sparks, the Fire Lady caught a glimpse of her husband’s face. He was… wearing a tight smile?

Zhao let out a startled cry as the Fire Lord didn’t so much emerge from the smoke cloud as explode out of it, surrounded by a sudden yellow firestorm of eye-watering intensity. “Son of the Sun” was one of the titles her husband bore, and to Yue’s mind, it had never seemed more appropriate. The young man looked as much flame spirit as human in his rapid advance across the icy floor, throwing bolt after head-sized bolt of searing golden fire at his suddenly reeling opponent with a merciless intensity. The officer conjured flames in his own defense, wreathing his hands in a blaze of his own and chopping to redirect the energy as best he was able. But his fire was now reddish with only hints of orange, and the speed and explosive power of the renewed assault denied him any chance to truly find his footing.

Of course, Yue eyes widened as she watched the steel-haired man stumbling backwards. He was faking it.

Not entirely – even in Zuko’s sudden explosion of movement his left arm was still a fraction slower than the right, the fire emerging from it a little less visibly potent. But enough to exaggerate the extent of the explosion’s impact on him. Enough to let the much older man decades past his physical prime wear himself out trying to overwhelm a defense honed against a generational prodigy with sheer brute force. Now that Zhao had exhausted both his muscles and his inner flame, he found himself needing both more than ever.

The king pressed his attack harder and faster than the officer had, making no effort to maintain distance. Instead, he simply advanced in a straight line directly towards his enemy, columns of roaring yellow flame as thick as his own arms heralding his coming. The older man, run ragged by his own furious offensive and too busy trying to mount a desperate defense against the golden tide to regain proper balance, couldn’t retreat fast enough.

Within seconds, Zuko made it to within twenty paces of his foe. Then fifteen. Then he was within ten paces, and he threw two punches for either side of the officer’s head before abruptly bringing up his right foot. A point-blank burst of light and heat caught the man full in the chest, sending him flying. He skidded painfully across the ice, rolling and tumbling backwards until he hit a jutting chunk of what had once been a carved animal’s face. There he came to a stop, but his opponent did not, racing to the tall man’s side even as he was visibly struggling to rise.

When he got there, there was nary a moment’s hesitation. The Fire Lord brought his right fist swinging around, and a final brilliant golden blaze enveloped the left side of Zhao’s face.

The Commander screamed. All around the Fire Lady, the men of the Royal Procession, and of the Water Tribe, let out a triumphant roar. The painful cry subsided after a few moments as the loser’s body went limp, but the cries of approval, if anything, grew louder. The young king ceased and withdrew his fist the moment the other man stopped moving, took a moment to resume his full height, and snorted twin tufts of ash-grey smoke.

The first thing the victor of the Agni Kai looked around the room for was his wife. For just a moment, Zuko’s golden eyes met Yue’s blue ones, and in spite of the situation the snow-haired princess could feel her heartbeat speeding up. Could feel her cheeks getting warmer. As he stared at her, breathing heavily, she offered him a nod, and an almost incongruously shy smile. It was only once he’d confirmed to his own apparent satisfaction that his bride hadn’t suffered further harm that he turned his attention elsewhere.

The meeting chamber was now filled with the sounds of wild applause, cheering, and even a venerable war chant or two. But the dark-haired young man didn’t seem to have eyes for any of it. His gaze instead turned to the squads of Fire Navy benders and spearmen standing opposite his supporters. Some of these met his gaze with varying degrees of trepidation, some did not.

“I… am the Fire Lord,” Zuko said to them after a moment, stepping deliberately over the smoking, motionless form of Commander Zhao with an expression so deeply set it seemed to be carved from stone. “I am the son of Agni.” As he advanced, not a few of men in front of him backed away. “I am your rightful liege, and my word is law.” He halted within just a few paces of the soldier his opponent had literally left holding the bag and looked him right in the eyeholes. “You will hand over that spirit. Now.”

Zhao’s man, in spite of his commanding officer’s fall, said nothing for a handful of tense heartbeats. His uniform’s white mask revealed nothing. Then the silence was broken by the sound of a loud bang.

Behind her husband, the corner of the Fire Lady’s mouth twitched upwards as the intricately carved wooden double doors to the palace steps were thrown open and men came pouring through. First in ones and twos, and then by the dozen. Whether clutching spears or wearing the uniforms of firebenders, all shared the same sense of urgency as they surged forward into the chamber to come to the aid of their lord and lady.

“That fish’s life,” Zuko told the firebender, who now had the increasingly vigorously squirming sack clutched up against his chest with both hands like it was a shield, as more and more soldiers lined up rapidly behind their king. “It’s your life too. One way or the other.”

Yue couldn’t see the man’s face. She didn’t know his name, his motives, or how loyal he was to Zhao and his vision. But she knew exactly what he must be thinking. Agni had clearly ruled against his commanding officer. More pragmatically, there was no chance of escaping, let alone fighting his way free, any longer. Defiance of the Fire Lord would simply result in him being killed on the spot and sent to meet the very spirit whose son he had rebelled against. No matter how one looked at it, there could be only one move for anyone but the most spiteful, suicidal of fools.

Fortunately for all the world, this particular soldier proved not to be that.

Slowly, a little bit hesitantly, the commander’s man extended one slightly trembling arm, and handed the moon spirit over to the Fire Lord. The younger man snatched up the wriggling black bag with a single tight, efficient gesture.

“Wise decision,” the victorious king said with a single nod. He gestured to the soldiers behind him. “Take these men into custody.” He turned, and his golden eyes fell on the lone spearman lying unconscious on the floor. “And get that man to a medic.”

When Zuko ducked back beneath the door to the oasis, his wife was right behind him. Then came his father-in-law, firebenders from his royal guard, and masked waterbenders still clutching their blades. The whole party fanned out along the narrow strips of land, crossed the twin bridges leading to the tiny green islet, and met up again at the head of the sacred pool, where a black-scaled koi fish with a lone white mark on its head continued to swim in remarkably steady circles. Yue watched the ocean spirit maintaining the eternal dance from the water’s edge, wondering whether its apparent inactivity in the face of threat was a symptom of some mystical foresight or simply the vastness of its own governing purview occupying the whole of its attention.

Either way, she was right there beside her father and husband when the Fire Lord sank slowly to one knee and gingerly opened the black bag just above the sacred pool. The white-scaled koi dropped back into the water with a surprisingly quiet plop, and the moment it did the lingering sense of weakness that had beset her vanished like a morning mist. The sun seemed to her to be shining more brightly down than it had moments before, the colors of the world around her just a little bit more vivid. For its part, the other half of her tribe’s patron spirits wasted no time in swimming right back to the center of the pool, rejoining its partner in the endless dance as though nothing at all had happened.

Zuko resumed his feet, joining everyone else present in staring down into the clear water, the sun overhead giving the whole pond the illusion of being filled with sparkling gems. There was a moment of solemn silence, which was only eventually interrupted by Arnook gesturing at one of the masked waterbenders that had accompanied them there. The warrior nodded once, took several steps towards the waterway surrounding the island, and made a gesture. An orb of crystal-clear ice melt rose up to eye level, darted this way and that at his command, and then was returned from whence it came with a single gesture. The princess and her father breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief as all around them, men gladly let their borrowed blades clatter onto the green grass at their feet. Even the battered, bruised, and thoroughly drained-looking Fire Lord himself smiled a little.

And then, suddenly, the little white koi fish broke away from its darker counterpart, swimming leisurely back towards the edge of the pond from whence it had come, its long barbels trailing almost lazily behind it. It halted just a few feet from the water’s edge and appeared to simply hang there for a moment, staring placidly up at the young couple with its simple blue and black eyes. After a few seconds, it wiggled its body back and forth at them a handful of times, flicked its two front fins once, and then turned unceremoniously back around, swimming back over to rejoin its partner in their endless circling dance.

“If that really is Tui right there,” the northern princess began slowly. “Then I think she said…” she coughed twice into her hand, then looked up at the southern king. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

The arrival of the Fire Lord and Lady to the Northern Water Tribe was meant to be a time of joy, celebrating the deepening bonds forged by a royal marriage. A time for hope and optimism, looking forward to the imminent end of a hundred years of war and a new era of cooperation, peace, and shared prosperity in the promised golden age to come. A time of parades and feasts, dancing and song, all in celebration of their princess’s long-promised marriage to the man who was soon to be the most powerful ruler in the world.

Instead, it had become a disaster area. By the time that Zuko, Yue, Chief Arnook, and their combined party made it back to the city’s long exterior docks, what remained of the Crown of Fire was still aflame. Though greatly reduced since the time they had left in great haste, the blaze’s withering intensity and the immense abundance of fuel meant that the firebenders now operating unsupported on the once-grand vessel still had their work cut out for them.

The Fire Lord himself only just appeared in better condition than his ship. His left arm was supported by a navy-blue sling hastily procured for him from the healing huts, which would have seemed incongruous with his crimson and black clothing had it not already been so badly torn and stained. His once-fine cape in particular was little more than shreds in places and had been reaffixed more out of unconscious habit than anything else. His crown was missing, and his topknot long gone, leaving his dark hair a wild mess that drooped down onto his face. His light skin had become outright pallid where it wasn’t either flushed from exertion or simply covered in bruises and cuts. His gaze, and his gait, remained steady only by sheer force of will.

Despite his condition, the young man was in the vanguard of the returnees, with a concerned-looking wife by his side, stealing frequent glances at him while they walked. The mostly red mass didn’t get too far down the frozen pier before running into one of blue descending from a cruiser’s ramp.

“Chief,” Master Pakku was the first to greet Arnook on their approach. “I don’t what exactly happened, but my waterbenders and I suddenly had our bending stop working all at once. Ketsou was caught in a sudden upsurge when it happened and seriously injured, so I thought it best to pull back and let the firebenders work unimpeded. Our bending returned just as inexplicably several minutes ago, but I still don’t know what caused the disruption or if it will happen again.”

“The situation is under control,” the Water Tribe’s leader assured him. “We’ll discuss what happened in greater detail later, but for now just know that the matter is resolved, and your bending is no longer under throat. Right now, we need to concentrate on saving as many lives as we can, and to do that that blaze needs to be extinguished.”

“Of course,” the older man nodded, halfway turning his head. “Sangok, you and the rest all heard him. Let’s go.”

How many people died needlessly while that fish was out of the oasis? Zuko wondered as he watched them racing back towards the epicenter of the disaster. Pursing his lips and shaking his head, he strode off after them at a moderate pace. He simply wasn’t up for any more running right at that moment.

Even if he wasn’t physically of much use at the moment – and even if he were sending him into the burning ship would have simply been an intolerable risk to the Fire Nation’s future – he could still at least serve as an icon to raise the navy men’s battered morale. The knowledge that Agni’s son was alive, was unbowed in spite of his injuries and pain, and was there watching over them would hopefully inspire the rescue teams to redouble their efforts to pull men from the wreckage. Even if all he actually did was sit there and let a waterbender work on him while he looked out over them.

“Yue,” his mother-in-law met them around halfway across the dock, in the shadow of a battlecruiser. She strode forward and embraced the snow-haired princess without a second’s hesitation. “Thank the spirits you’re alright! What were thinking, running off with the men like that?!”

“Mama,” she began, wincing a little at the strength of her mother’s crushing grip. “I-”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?” Xue didn’t give her the chance to go on. “First you go charging off after a group of armed men, then it seems as though the entire tribe’s waterbending has simply up and vanished, and then two men coming running back here shouting about traitors and violence and how you all need help up at the palace? You were fit to give your own mother a heart attack!”

“Xue,” Arnook stepped in before his wife could succeed in squeezing their daughter to death. “This isn’t over yet. We’ll go over everything together, as a family, I promise.”

Zuko’s mother-in-law actually gave her husband a quick glare when she probably thought no one else could see, but she was a woman of the Northern Water Tribe, and public deference to both husband and chieftain ran deep. She released the snow-haired princess with more a little reluctance, and the somewhat enlarged party continued on its way.

As they approached the base of the extended prow ramp, the returning party could see two soot-covered soldiers of the Royal Procession at its base, one with arms folded across his chest, the other with them gripped tightly behind his back. Between them, hands bound tightly behind his back, knelt a young-looking soldier in the torn, stained uniform of a naval firebender, sans helmet and armor. He was positioned in such a way as to get the clearest possible view of the sloop’s ruin, and to look upon each and every one of the wounded, the maimed, the scorched, and the corpses of fellow Fire Navy personnel as they were marched, carried, or dragged from the wreck in varying states of mobility. His whole posture was so slumped that he was almost doubled over, but when two medics carried a limp, red-armored body down the ramp on a stretcher, one of the men beside him grabbed him by his dark hair and roughly forced his head to track the procession as it raced hastily by.

“Sergeant Zo, what are you doing to that soldier?” the Fire Lord demanded angrily as he drew near. “Why isn’t he in a medical bay?”

“This man,” the royal guard said in a tone of obvious contempt, refusing to so much as glance at the miserable-looking youth, “is Seaman Zi Rui. He has some things he wishes to tell you, your majesty. Don’t you?”

The battered, bruised, and burned young man said nothing for a moment, seemingly unable to even look up. The other firebender kicked him once in the side.

“Don’t you?” he repeated, in a considerably more threatening tone.

When Zi Rui did manage to turn his gaze upwards towards his sovereign, it was with hollow, bloodshot brown eyes. What parts of his face weren’t covered with dried blood, angry red burns, or grey ash were perceptibly slick with sweat, and his whole body began to tremble.

“I-I-I…” was all he managed to get out before bursting into sobs.

It wasn’t until around midafternoon, when the last of the raging inferno had finally been quelled and the ruined flagship been scoured from stem to stern for survivors or bodies, that the assembled royalty finally retired to the multitiered ice palace in the city’s innermost ring. There had been plans for a welcome reception, performances, a meeting with the full tribal council, a feast, and even imported fireworks shortly after sunset, but given everything that had happened it had been unanimously, and more or less wordlessly, decided that it was best to postpone such festivities. Very few people who had been on those docks felt in a very celebratory mood.

The young Fire Lord himself, his royal finery shredded, his wardrobe destroyed, and almost all of his personal attendants from the voyage either in an infirmary or a morgue, lay sprawled out amidst a thick mass of soft furs in nothing more than a simple crimson naval tunic that was roughly his size. His crown still lost, there was nothing more than a simple ribbon to bind his hair into the loose semblance of a topknot. If there was anything that could be called fortunate about his situation, it lay in the fact that he was simply too thoroughly drained to care.

For many hours, Zuko could not be bothered to even hazard a guess how many, the Fire Nation’s young ruler drifted in and out of consciousness. In spite of the bone-deep weariness he felt, sleep came only in fits and starts. His vision alternated at seeming random between the waking world, the inside of his own eyelids, and intermittent ghostly images of the men and women who had so recently waited on him slowly shriveling into the blackened, twisted, faceless lumps he had witnessed at the base of that tower, their screaming all the more disturbing for its total silence.

It was during one such transition, when the sight before him switched abruptly from the flame-withered face of the servant girl Aimesa to an altogether more lovely visage, that the young man realized that he was no longer alone. His bleary mind’s first reaction was to jump, bringing up the closest hand into a vague semblance of a firebending pose.

“Zuko?” the sound of his bride’s familiar voice cut through the mind fog at around the same time that the tang of adrenaline entered his bloodstream. “Did I startle you?”

As the room around him came into greater focus, it became clear that the white-haired girl had a worried expression on her face, and also that it was much darker in here than he remembered it being.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, coughing softly. “I tried to be quiet, changing and slipping into bed. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Nrrrgh…” he shook his head, blinking a few times. “’S alright…” he mumbled.

“You weren’t sleeping well, were you?”

“What…” he yawned, “What makes you say that?”

“I came in here a few minutes ago,” she glanced over at the heavy insulating blue curtain that hung over the entranceway, “got into my nightclothes, and crawled into bed. You were tossing and turning that whole time.” The princess put a hand to her chest. “And you were muttering things I couldn’t understand. You don’t usually talk in your sleep.”

“I… don’t remember,” he lied.

“Zuko…” she frowned briefly, coughing twice more before her expression softened. “It was about the people caught in the tower, wasn’t it? The people on the ship. The soldiers at the palace gates.”

The young king turned his head away from her, saying nothing.

“What happened to them wasn’t your fault,” his wife’s voice continued softly from behind him. “There’s no way you could have known – and you didn’t even pick Zhao for this mission in the first place.”

There was a short period of uncomfortable silence in the bedchamber. The sovereign felt the touch of a gentle hand on his back.

“…They were lined up there because of me,” Zuko eventually said in a quiet voice. “I’m the Fire Lord. I’m responsible for protecting my subjects. I should’ve… should’ve been more alert. Should’ve done something different.”

“Not even the greatest of spirits can foresee everything,” Yue replied, running her long nails gently up and down her husband’s back. “Not even the oldest are omnipotent.” There came a faint trace of lightness to her voice. “Didn’t today prove that? Two of the most ancient, powerful, and revered spirits have taken the forms of simple koi fish.”

Again, there was no reply.

“Zuko,” she tried again after a long silent spell. “No one blames you for what happened. It wasn’t your job to inspect every inch of the ship for sabotage. You focused on the rescue efforts as soon as you could. The moment you realized what was happening, you fought as hard as you could to make things right. You chose to risk your life to protect our tribe when you could easily have turned on us at our most helpless. Without you, the moon spirit, maybe the whole world, would have been in jeopardy. No one in their right mind could ask for more from you. And I’m sure the spirits of the departed would tell you the same.”

“…How would you know that?”

“Be reasonable. The traitors are guilty of the deaths that happened today,” she continued trying to reassure him. “Not you. If anything, you’re their avenger.”

Slowly, the Fire Lord turned his head back around. Golden eyes made contact with blue ones. There was another period of silence, this one a little less unpleasant.

“Why don’t we go back to the spirit oasis tomorrow at dusk?” Yue suggested. “And perform the ceremonies asking Tui and La to help their souls move on swiftly to the next world, or their next lives?” A ghost of a smile touched her face. “After today, I’m sure they’d be inclined to listen.”

“You think they’d be able to help dead from the Fire Nation?”

“If you were there, it’d be Agni’s own descendant lending his authority to it,” the Fire Lady pointed out. “I don’t see why they couldn’t.”

“Maybe…” he looked briefly thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right.”

“See? You don’t need to feel bad about imaginary things that only make sense in retrospect. If anything, you should feel proud of what you did do. You showed everybody just what kind of a Fire Lord you really are.”

The dark-haired man tilted up a fraction, then hesitated, shifting his gaze back down.

Yue leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

At first, Zuko’s eyes widened, but it didn’t take him more than a second or two to lean into it, kissing the moon child right back. Their lips remained locked together for several short but pleasant seconds, with the snow-haired princess only pulling away to cough delicately into one hand. When she looked up again, her husband’s face had leveled out considerably.

“You know… while you’re awake,” she began again slowly, “I have something for you.”

“Now?” he actually raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded, pushing some of the furs off her chest. “I was planning on giving it to you before dinner tonight anyway.”

“I mean… weren’t your things-”

“It wasn’t onboard the ship. I left it in what I knew would be our room here during my last stay at the north pole.”

He blinked. “That was months ago. You were planning out that far ahead?”

Her cheeks became just a shade pinker. “Well… I wanted to take care of you while you were visiting. Like a proper northern wife does.” She pushed the last of the abundant furry blankets off herself and rose to her feet. “Now close your eyes, and no peaking.”

“Alright,” the Fire Lord obligingly shut his eyes.

As he waited in darkness, there came the sound of light shoes treading on fur, the rustling of curtains coming from the direction of the dressing room, and the creaking of wood. A few seconds later, there was more rustling, and the footsteps returned.

“Okay,” came the sound of his wife’s voice. “You can open them now.”

When he did, Zuko saw Yue standing there in the soft light of the whale oil lantern, holding up a long, handsome, fur-trimmed parka. However, instead of the usual shades of blue her tribe produced from artic mollusks, this garment of tanned sealskin had been dyed a deep shade of crimson. The normally white fur, likewise, had either been taken from a darker creature or stained black in its manufacture. There were even shining golden threads woven along the front, forming striped patterns of the northern style.

“Tada!” the snow-haired princess gave him a look that was halfway between excitement and nervous anticipation. “I thought it’d help you fit in a bit more while you were here. And keep you nice and toasty.”

“It looks… nice,” he said genuinely, golden eyes tracing the patterns on the front, trying to recall their exact meaning. Something about… warmth, maybe? “Where did you get this?”

“I made it,” she replied, her chin rising a few inches. “Do you like it?”

He blinked. “Of course I like it. I just didn’t know…”

“That a princess would make clothes herself?” she shook her head. “I’ve told you before, every woman in the Water Tribe knows how to make and mend clothes. I was learning to use a needle and thread before I turned five.”

The Fire Lord tried, and failed, to imagine a five-year-old Azula using a needle to do anything but poke people that annoyed her.

“You’d didn’t think I’d forgotten how just because all the clothes in your palace were supplied and mended for me, did you? You didn’t think I just sew little cloth designs as a hobby?” she smiled proudly. “Anyway, it should fit you nicely, I think. It’ll come down to just above your knees.”

“So that’s why I caught you snooping around in my closet during your last visit.”

Yue looked away, blushing a little. “Yes,” she admitted.

For the first time since waking, Zuko cracked a smile, shaking his head. “You could have just asked the royal tailor for my measurements, you know.”

“But he would have wanted to know why, and then he might have spoiled the surprise once I had left.”

“Well, you could at least have done to make a little less noise in there then.”

“Have you ever tried to make measurements in the dark, with one tiny little gas lamp on the wall?” she crossed her arms and huffed, even as her cheeks grew a shade pinker. The black fur of the parka brushed against the bottom of her nightdress. “With only the things you can fit up your sleeve?”

“From the looks of it, it seems as though you managed somehow.”

“No thanks to you bursting in on me. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You have to admit, the noise you made was pretty funny,” the king’s grin grew just a little wider. “You sounded like a startled gerbilmouse.”

The snow-haired princess pursed her lips, but only managed to hold that indignant expression for a few seconds before having to cover her mouth. A tiny hint of a giggle, followed by a soft cough, just about managed to escape.

“Well anyway…” she continued after a few seconds, “I was going to give it to you to wear to the celebratory feast, but since the royal clothes you brought are gone, do you think you’d like to… wear it around the city?”

“Well…” he pretended to consider it. “It seems like a shame to make you do all the work of putting it together and only use it once.” His wry grin became warmer. “So, I guess I’ve got no choice but to take you up on that idea.”

“I’ll set it out for tomorrow morning,” his wife replied, deftly folding the garment into a neat bundle with a few well-practiced moves. “And you don’t have to tease me, you know,” she remarked as she placed it atop a wooden stand, before turning around and heading back towards the sleeping furs. “You can just say yes.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, watching her climb back in beside him. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Zuko…” the princess chided, even as she had to cover her mouth again to conceal a grin.

“And besides…” the Fire Lord scooted over just a little bit closer, leaning in so close that the visible warmth of his breath washed over his wife’s ear and speaking in a low, husky voice. “You like it when I tease you.”

Yue hastily rolled over onto her side, putting her back to Zuko and burying her face in her hands, but not quite quickly enough to fully conceal the blush that had appeared on her dark cheeks. A little bit of wryness returning to his smile, the king ran two gentle fingers of his right hand down the small of her back, eliciting a muffled but still cute squeak and a quick cough.

“Case in point,” he said in a faintly smug tone.

“W-Well,” the girl beside him swallowed audibly. “You m-might have a p-point. But you’re n-not…” she took a deep, steadying breath, “not being fair.”

“Oh?” Zuko raised one eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

The young man’s golden eyes remained firmly fixed on his wife as she took another deep breath, braced herself, then rolled back over to face him.

“You’re a hero now,” Yue looked directly at her husband with rosy cheeks and eyes half-lidded. “Every girl loves a hero.”

“Good morning, Fire Lord,” said Chief Arnook the following day, nodding his head respectfully at the younger man as he entered the modest-sized chamber on the palace’s third floor.

“Good morning, Chieftain,” Zuko returned the nod.

As the guards vanished back through the heavy blue curtain behind the new arrival, the two leaders were left alone in the icy room. It was, by design, considerably more intimate than most of the public-facing sections of the northern palace, and the two elevated frozen platforms on either side of a carefully carved wooden table reflected that, as did the expensive imported brew simmering merrily in a clay pot.

While Arnook himself was physically no worse for the wear from yesterday’s events save for some faint dark circles beneath his eyes, the same regrettably could not quite be said for his daughter’s husband. While the surface-level cuts and bruises had largely been reduced to vague pinkish blotches by focused applications of waterbending, the same could not be said for his arm, now held in a deep red naval sling to match the color of his parka. Still crownless, the young king’s light face was still noticeably pallid, and as he knelt down across the table from the chief, his movements carried a certain ginger stiffness about them. Though, considering the condition of others extracted from the ruin of his ship, he still had much to be thankful for.

“I was told that you wanted to speak to me before breakfast?” the younger man asked.

“Yes,” the older nodded once, before starting to pour two cups of tea. “Before we begin though, are you doing alright?”

“As well as could be expected, given the circumstances.”

“Did you need anything?”

He shook his head. “Not right now, thank you.”

“That’s good to hear,” the chief gave a faint smile as he placed one steaming cup before the king, before taking a small sip of the second himself.

The hot liquid had a strong earthly note to it and was quite bitter. Fire Nation tea had never been to his taste, but Yue had informed him that this particular ginseng blend was a favorite around the southern palace. The Dragon of the West was apparently especially keen on it. For his own part, the northerner swallowed just enough to appear polite before setting the cup down.

“I’m sorry that I’ve had to pull you aside so early today,” he continued once his marital son had had a chance to gulp down some of the invigorating brew himself. “But considering the circumstances, I’m afraid that some matters simply demand to be attended to at once.”

“…Yes,” the young man slowly replaced his cup on the table with his good arm. “For whatever it’s worth,” Zuko’s golden eyes fell towards the table, and he inclined his head just a little, “the Fire Nation extends its apologies to the Northern Water Tribe for yesterday’s events. The former Commander Zhao and his coterie acted completely without the throne’s knowledge or sanction.”

Obviously, the dark-skinned man thought. But someone’s failure led to many deaths and could have led to even worse.

“The Northern Water Tribe is prepared to accept the Fire Nation’s apology,” he replied coolly. “But we would prefer to do so in a manner that does not give off an impression of weakness to our population. What happened yesterday shook the whole tribe.”

“I can imagine why,” the king nodded sympathetically, before fortifying himself with another swallow of the southern brew.

“On that subject, the council and I have been in session,” Chief Arnook said in a measured tone once he had put the cup down again. “The debate grew somewhat heated. You might be pleased to hear that your wife was one of her adopted nation’s most adamant defenders.”

Across the table, Yue’s husband did indeed smile softly at that news.

“We ultimately arrived at the conclusion that what happened yesterday was a sign that too many of our waterbenders have been sent to join the war effort.”

“…I can understand your need for greater security in your city after an incident like this,” from where he knelt, Zuko again nodded over at his father-in-law.

“And we also believe that reevaluating our contribution at this stage isn’t just in our tribe’s interests, but your broader empire’s as well.”

The chieftain scrutinized the younger man’s face closely as he began the carefully rehearsed argument he and his councilors had crafted. They were, after all, proposing a serious alteration to one of the stipulations of their treaty of alliance. His daughter in particular had had some suggestions on how best to pitch it.

“Our ability to be an effective supplement to your armies is completely contingent on there being no disruptions to our waterbending. Without it, we have little of tactical or strategic value to offer in the war against Ba Sing Se. And we certainly have nothing else that could meaningfully add to your medical corps,” he smiled a little ruefully. “It’s a bit too cold to grow medicinal herbs here.”

The dark-haired young man cracked a smile at that, which he judged a good sign.

“We therefore feel compelled to ask, in your interests and in ours, that the terms of our agreement be opened for renegotiation, and a greater portion of our waterbenders be released from your military to return home.”

The southern king rolled his good shoulder once. “Alright.”

Arnook blinked once. His son-in-law returned his earlier smile.

“Surprised?”

“…I expected you’d put up more resistance to the idea.”

“Like you said, it’s in the Fire Nation’s best interests that nothing like what happened yesterday morning be allowed to happen again. It’s in everyone’s bests interests.”

“I’m glad you see the wisdom of it,” he nodded.

“What are your plans once they get here? You’re not just going to tell them all the complete story of what happened yesterday, are you? This doesn’t seem like knowledge that should be too public.”

“No,” he shook his head. “But we do intend to form a permanent waterbending guard for the oasis from our most experienced and trusted masters now that we know the true value of what dwells there. For the rest, they’ll be put to use redoubling our defensive bulwarks and ensuring that they’re all properly manned on a permanent basis. No matter the occasion.”

“I see,” the young man also nodded. “Sensible enough precaution.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I was there right with you. I saw what happened when that fish was taken out of the pond. What happens if that happens during a major battle, or when thousands of our troops are recuperating under your healers’ ministrations?”

Thinking of his tribe first, Arnook allowed himself a mildly approving look. The sign of a good leader.

“We’ll need to conduct a strategic review while I’m here. Withdraw the extra waterbenders from naval squadrons in the safest areas where they aren’t as needed, not critical points like the active combat zones or the highest security earthbender prison rigs.”

“After the Earth Navy’s decimation, I’m sure we’ll be able to find places where their withdrawal won’t be too debilitating for the Fire Navy. I’ve heard that the seas have gotten much quieter of late.”

“Yes,” he nodded, bracing himself with more tea. “The healers will all have to stay, though,” the Fire Lord cautioned. “There’s still a pressing need for them, and they’re very popular with our troops. We can’t afford to reduce their numbers right now. Especially not with Ba Sing Se still yet to be taken.”

Understandable, the chief acknowledged mentally.

“Speaking of, we’ll still ask you to contribute to the final battle,” he went on.

“In the same role as originally planned, I take it?”

“Of course,” he nodded again. “We don’t want the Agrarian Zone going up in flames while our rear lines work on demolishing the outer wall.”

The battle plans he had seen called for several armored speartips to lead the charge on the day of Sozin’s Comet, followed by a larger wedge of both light and heavy calvary, with massed waves of infantry following up as quickly as they could. All the first waves would be made up exclusively of firebenders, to take maximum advantage of the power the comet would provide. While the primary army flooded into the city, smaller formations of firebenders were to spend those critical few hours systematically destroying as much of the outermost wall as their empowered bending would allow, ideally all of it. With all the vital farmland required to sustain its enormous population thus left completely exposed, the Impenetrable City’s throat would be permanently left bare to any besieging force. It would be rendered forever useless as bastion of resistance.

It was, the older man acknowledged, a very cunning strategy that their war council had devised. For their part, the Water Tribe’s combative role would be largely confined to providing support enabling tanks and troops to roll right across various bodies of water, and preventing the inevitable firestorms unleashed from rendering the vast crop fields to ash. They weren’t even to enter the city proper until the armies of the Fire Nation had already swarmed over it. Unlikely to prove casualty intensive.

“Naturally,” he nodded back. “I think we’ll be able to manage that.”

“Good to hear,” Zuko said. “And in return I think we’ll be able to manage at sea with fewer waterbenders.”

“I’m glad you’re choosing reasonable about this. Some on the council feared you would take a hardline interpretation of our obligations.”

“I can completely understand why their trust in the Fire Nation would have been shaken by what happened, and almost happened,” his brow furrowed a little. “And yours too. I hope we can work to rebuild it while I’m here.”

“I do trust you,” the older man assured the younger. “It’s another rogue officer that concerns them, and me.”

“There’ll be an investigation into this matter,” the light-skinned teenager promised. “A purge, if necessary. Nothing like this will be allowed to happen again.”

“My councilors will be glad to hear that you’re taking it so seriously.”

Of course, some will say that it is only because of the attack on you, he added silently. But those are the ones that didn’t see for themselves.

The young man’s face hardened noticeably. “Everything that just happened will be taken seriously.” He shook his head. “Zhao intended us to break faith with a sworn oath. He intended to sully the honor of the Dragon Throne. Of the entire Fire Nation. We take things like that very seriously.” He looked his father-in-law right in the eye. “I hope the Water Tribe will see that.”

“That man’s betrayal of us started with a betrayal of you,” the northern chief said. “That means something.”

“It did,” he acknowledged. “But I hope none of your people will think that means I only fought Zhao out of personal revenge.”

“I saw how you acted when you held the moon spirit in your grasp. If you had harbored any thoughts of betraying us,” Arnook said to Zuko, “you would have done it then and there. A better chance couldn’t have been asked for.” He shook his head. “That you refused to do so tells me all that I need to know about your intentions for your reign.”

The Fire Lord looked half relieved, half gratified at that.

“But unfortunately, the same can’t quite be said for much of my city’s population,” Yue’s father shook his head. “I’m sure you can understand our need to keep many of the most pertinent details from becoming general knowledge.”

“Of course.”

“But what that means is that the entire city knows that a Fire Nation officer broke faith with us, murdered our people on the palace steps, violated our most sacred space, and performed an act of profanation so heinous that waterbending itself was disrupted for a time,” he told his son-in-law. “You can imagine the public’s mood.”

The younger man winced, before nodding sympathetically.

“And that brings us to the other matter my councilors and I spoke of: justice.” Arnook’s face hardened. “We want Zhao and his cohort transferred from your fleet’s brigs into our dungeon.”

“You intend to make a public display of revenge.”

“Yes,” he confirmed with a simple nod. “And one that achieves more than one purpose at once. We enact vengeance on the murderers who violated a holy place and laid profane hands on the spirit that has watched over our tribe from time immemorial, yes. But we also demonstrate to the people of this city that we remain a respected nation in confederation with yours, that their chief and council have not become merely puppets in the Fire Lord’s hands.”

The Northern Water Tribe might not be as prone to focusing as obsessively on raw strength as the Fire Nation – the fact that a nonbender was allowed to assume the highest title, unthinkable in the southern nation, was proof enough of that – but they still had their pride. A weak and ineffectual leader would garner little respect, and much resentment. That was never a formula for political stability.

“Our treaty provides that Fire Nation citizens committing crimes on Water Tribe territory are to be punished in accordance with our laws,” the chieftain reminded him. “Just as the reverse is also true.”

The king frowned a little. “But their first crimes – most of their crimes – occurred onboard the Crown of Fire. Under the Fire Nation’s jurisdiction.”

“While that’s true, the very gravest crime they committed took place atop our ice.”

That sentence was more than a little hard for Arnook to say, but if there was one thing decades of leadership had taught him it was the need for placing cool, impersonal objectivity above one’s feelings. The continued existence of the moon spirit, of waterbending, outweighed even the life of a princess. Part of him still felt ashamed to let the words leave his lips, but he kept that from his face.

“I understand your position,” the Fire Lord said slowly. “Please understand mine. Between the bodyguards and servants in the tower and the four palace guards, the Water Tribe lost eleven members in the attack, with two more in the infirmary. The Fire Nation’s confirmed dead stand at a hundred and thirty-seven so far, with more than twice that number still in critical condition.”

“Panoq’s condition has stabilized,” his father-in-law said. “I received word from the healing huts a few minutes before I arrived here.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I hope the same will be said of the wounded from my nation.” The young man gave a heavy sigh.

“Our women have spent the night doing everything they can to ensure that will be the case.”

“And our men appreciate your efforts.”

Evidently not all of them, he thought, with a faintly bitter undertone.

“It has been said that deeds speak louder than words,” he said aloud. “And I think that would apply in this case.”

“Your people want to see strength in their leader, and justice enacted. I understand. But please understand that so do mine. The men of the Fire Navy have spent a day and night aboard their ships watching their fellow sailors suffer and die. They watched an assassination attempt on their Fire Lord. The Water Tribe aren’t the only ones whose blood is up.”

“Even so, they bore witness to the aftermath of their Fire Lord humbling the traitor in personal combat. No one aboard that fleet will be in doubt about your strength or favor in your ancestor’s eyes.”

“Also, if we hand over Zhao to you, after he organized an assassination attempt on me, people will ask questions,” Zuko pointed out. “They’ll wonder what crime he committed in your oasis that could have been greater than high treason. Than trying to kill Agni’s son. Is that the kind of scrutiny you want on that place?”

“A fair point,” Arnook acknowledged, frowning a little. “But what do you propose instead? Simply watching the architect of such desecration and murder sailing off over the horizon in a foreign ship isn’t going to be enough for my tribe, I think.”

“Hmmm…” the dark-haired king frowned a little himself, drinking another few swallows of tea as he contemplated the dilemma for a little while. “What about carrying out the former Commander’s sentence on the docks, in the presence of a joint delegation?”

The older man raised one thick black eyebrow.

“You and I in attendance, and an equal number of representatives from each nation,” he elaborated. “Officers, councilors, highly placed clansmen and the like. If we place it right, the soldiers of the Fire Nation should be able to see clearly that justice was done from the ships of the fleet, and the people of the Water Tribe from the top of the outer wall.”

“…A proposal that may have merit,” the chieftain considered, running three fingers through his goatee. “But even if we consent to it, what of the others? Zhao didn’t act alone.”

“We could extradite those that took part in the murder of your men. Leave their punishment in your hands.”

“And you’ll know which ones these are… how?”

“They’ve been undergoing questioning by the fleet’s interrogators since yesterday. Their stories are being compared and compiled.”

“And they’ve actually been talking?”

“They all saw Agni rule in my favor yesterday. That means a lot in the Fire Nation.”

“So, your offer is that any of them that were directly involved in attacking the palace guards be handed over to us, and the rest taken back to your homeland?”   

“Any of them – except two.”

Once more, Arnook raised an eyebrow.

“Ensign Shizou – the man Zhao left holding the moon spirit,” Zuko said. “I promised him his life if he handed it over peacefully. He did, and I won’t break that promise.” He looked the older man in the eye. “And Seaman Raonan. Yue tells me he was beaten into unconsciousness because he tried to free the moon spirit. She thinks he deserves to be rewarded for that, and I agree.”

“Hmmm…” the fifty-year-old frowned again. “You understand that that’s rather less than the tribal council was hoping for?”

“I’m trying to balance justice for your tribesmen, justice for my sailors, and not draw attention to the spirit oasis,” his son-in-law argued. “If I just handed them all over indiscriminately, we’d be right back to the problem with Zhao. Why would someone looking at the situation believe setting foot in that place a greater crime than conspiring with a man who tried to to murder the Fire Lord?”

That would still leave your country with the lionsnake’s share of prisoners, the chief noted, seeing the logic but still not entirely happy with the idea.

“And of course, those that lost their lives – Fire Nation or Water Tribe – fell in the line of duty, and their families will be compensated accordingly,” the Fire Lord offered, his tone becoming more conciliatory.

“Well… if you think the debt of violating the sanctity of the oasis ought not to be paid directly in blood, perhaps you might instead seek to satisfy the demands of the Water Tribe's honor a different way?”

Traditionally such debts would be handled in furs or skins, the use of coinage in such recompense being a relatively recent innovation in the practice and one that many of the oldest and most powerful clans still turned their noses up at. But that seemed a bit unnecessarily complicated in this case.

“That’s perfectly reasonable. In fact, come to think of it, Zhao comes from the ranks of the nobility,” he informed him, “and served in the officer class for over thirty years. Even as a fourth son of his line, he won’t be poor. And since he doesn’t have a wife or any acknowledged children, I don’t see anything wrong with the crown confiscating his estate to help cover the costs of restitution.”

I suppose there’s something appropriate about that.

“We can discuss an appropriate sum while I’m here, but do you think this whole arrangement should be a suitable way of resolving this?” Zuko asked his wife’s father. “Saving face for your people?”

Hmmm… we get a portion of our waterbenders returned home, the head of the plot’s ringleader, the soldiers that directly attacked us, and weregild from the Fire Nation.

“…It publicly reaffirms that the Fire Nation does have respect for the honor and welfare of its confederates,” Arnook said, nodding slowly. “And that will carry no small amount of weight.” He looked up again. “We’ll still need to have a story to present to our nations about what happened with waterbending, though.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something.”

“Zhao did what?!” Ursa shouted at the top of her lungs out of sheer reflex.

As she knelt there on a crimson cushion, a scroll with the Fire Lord’s broken seal clutched in two quivering hands, smoke poured freely from her nose.

“Mom?” from across the breakfast table, a sticky clump of mixed rice and egg halfway to her mouth, Azula raised an eyebrow.

“Ursa?” Iroh set down his morning tea and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“That traitor…” the Fire Lady hissed venomously as she read, actively having to restrain herself from setting the text alight. “He tried to kill Zuko and Yue.”

“He did what?” the sudden acid in her daughter’s tone was a near match for her own.

“And he did kill scores of loyal soldiers,” the older woman continued. “In an attempt to frame the Water Tribe for his own actions.”

Beside her, her brother-in-law’s usually affable expression was growing noticeably darker, though the veteran military man held his tongue for the moment. Even Aang, further down the table, had paused with a piece of fruit and honey toast halfway into his mouth, grey eyes widening into a distressed expression.

“But he failed in the end,” Ursa’s frown did not at all abate as she continued reading. “The bomb he set off failed to kill his primary targets, thanks to their ship’s heavy armor. Then the traitor exposed himself,” she glanced over at her secondborn, “when he tried to kill your brother during an Agni Kai.”

“Which he lost, I take it?” Azula asked.

Her mother nodded once. The grin she received in reply had a vicious edge to it.

“Zuko,” Iroh spoke up, “and Yue – are they well?”

“Yes, thank Agni,” she nodded again. “It says that all of their injuries should be treatable with waterbending assistance.”

The grey-haired former general breathed an audible sigh of relief at that.

“It also says that, by the mutual agreement of the Fire Lord and the Chieftain of the Northern Water Tribe, the former Commander’s punishment is to be carried out at the north pole, in the sight of both. Immediately.”

Azula actually looked somewhat disappointed.

“Carried out?” Aang swallowed the contents of his mouth and piped up. “D-Does that mean…”

The Fire Lady gave the Avatar a single quick nod. The child swallowed again.

The airbender’s grey eyes flicked from royal to royal, as if searching for something. “Does it h-have to be that way?”

“Yes,” three voices answered as one.

The young boy winced, then slumped over a little, looking down at his half-eaten breakfast plate with a glum expression.

“Aang, in the time it took this letter to reach us here from the top of the world, the sentence will have already been carried out,” the Crown Princess told him in a soft tone. “There’s nothing you could have done for Zhao – and can you really think he didn’t deserve it? He betrayed his most sacred oaths and killed many people. He brought it on himself.”

“It’s… not about deserving,” he shook his head, expression still downcast. “The monks always taught me that all life was sacred. That all things are connected.” Aang sighed heavily. “Even for someone from a le- from another nation, someone who’s never taken the vows, going out of your way to do it to another human being when he’s already been beaten…” he trailed off, looking sad.

“The spirits that watch over our nation understand a Fire Lord’s duty to provide justice.” Ursa’s daughter reached down the table and put one hand on the last airbender’s shoulder, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “It’ll be alright. He’ll be alright.”

The child’s countenance didn’t change.

“And there’s more,” the regent herself continued to read. “News that’s of great import to the entire empire.” Ursa looked up from the message with wide amber eyes. “News that mustn’t leave this room.”

Her marital brother raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s best if you just read it for yourself,” she said, rolling the scroll back up and proffering it to the former general. “Frankly…” she shook her head while Iroh reached out one hand, “it might make more sense that way.”

Grandfather was wrong, some part of the Fire Lady realized in the moment that she handed her son’s message over. The traitor failed, and I wasn’t the target at all.

Zuko had done her proud again. She knew she’d been right to place her faith in him.

“Class,” Ms. Zillah said one morning. “Is dismissed for today. All classes are being dismissed. You will all be free to do as wish with the day.”

From where she knelt behind her usual desk with the usual assortment of richly robed Earth Kingdom traitors all around her, Katara frowned a little suspiciously at her so-called teacher. Most of her fellows maintained expressions of polite interest, or just looked happy at the news.

“Now,” the greying black-haired woman continued before anyone had a chance to ask questions. “You’re probably wondering why. You may also have heard rumors about a recent incident, where waterbending across the empire seemed to spontaneously cease to function for a short time.” She looked out over her students, expression level. “I can confirm to you that these are true, and that these things are connected.”

I knew that was the Fire Nation’s fault somehow.     

“The former Commander Zhao of the Fire Navy is a traitor,” Zillah pronounced, eliciting a handful of gasps. “He detonated a bomb inside of a ship entrusted to his command, killing scores of loyal soldiers in a vain effort to harm the Fire Lord and Lady.”

He tried to kill the tyrant and his slimy white-haired pet at the same time? Katara thought. It’s only a shame he failed.

Beside her, a black-haired girl by the name of Kim put a hand to her mouth, bright green eyes wide.

“After this,” the older woman continued, her ash-grey eyes sweeping over the class, gauging their reactions, “he compounded his blasphemous madness by violating a place sacred to the spirits of the north. When he was confronted there by his rightful king and queen, the traitor went so far as to threaten and then attack them openly. The sight of such impudent sacrilege, of violence against Agni’s son and blessed chosen of Tui, on holy ground no less, sent the spirits of that place into such a towering rage that it caused the spiritual energies fueling waterbending everywhere to become temporarily interrupted.”

Likely story, she thought. They probably got offended when the Fire Lord set his bloodstained foot into what ought to have been a place of peace and healing and refused the world their gifts until he made himself scarce. Her inner voice gained a note of bitterness. Why’d they have to take it out on us, though? Why couldn’t they have just made him fall over dead instead?

“But the traitor’s arrogance was his undoing. Fire Lord Zuko defeated him in sacred Agni Kai at the top of the world, and the wrath of the northern spirits was quelled by the sight of justice meted out. So was right order restored to the world.”

Some of the students around the southern girl actually applauded. Some even cheered. Part of her still couldn’t believe that any of them were buying this pack of lies. She was having a hard enough time just keeping up a façade of polite interest.

“And so today, the Fire Nation celebrates the Fire Lord’s victory, and the inevitable downfall of the traitor,” Zillah spoke up again once everyone had gotten it out of their system. “You’re all at liberty to do as you wish with the day. I know that there are going to be street parties throughout Shan Zhi Ghen. You’re free to attend if you like, or otherwise enjoy yourselves.” She gestured out an open window. “Sozin Academy itself will be having food, music, and fireworks tonight, over at Phoenix Flight Hall.” The teacher gave her class a rare smile. “I hope to see you all there.”

“Morning!” said a bright, cheery voice from over the top the Fire Lady’s head.

“Aang?” Ursa looked up, finding the young airbender perched atop a narrow, decorative ledge running around the upper edges of the tall palace hallway. “Child, what are you doing up there?”

She’d have said that supporting one’s whole body on no more than an inch or two of rim was dangerous, but considering she’d witnessed this same boy leap bodily off his flying bison as it soared over the tallest palace spire, only to land harmlessly on his feet with nothing more than the strength of his own bending, it really wasn’t. It was, however, rather tactless, and just a little bit disconcerting.

“Oh, I just followed Momo up here,” Aang replied, smiling over at the white lemur perched just a few feet away from him. The little creature scratched the back of one long ear. “You wouldn’t believe all the hard-to-reach places he can find when he gets excited.”

“Be that as it may,” she called up to him. “If we’re going to speak, I’d appreciate it if we could do so face-to-face.”

“Sure thing,” he nodded affably, hopping down without the slightest hesitation. When he had fallen most of the way, a quick burst of wind slowed his descent to that of a falling leaf and he touched down gracefully in front of her.

“Good morning to you too, Aang,” she greeted him with a smile and a nod, scrutinizing his expression. “Are you doing well?”

“Mmm… yeah, I’d say so,” the Avatar rubbed the back of his shaved scalp, eyes wandering upwards.

“…You’re looking like you want to say something to me,” the woman observed. “Or is it that you want to ask me something?”

“Man, you’re just like Azula,” he shook his head. “How do you guys always know this stuff?”

You make it very easy, she thought.

“We have our ways,” she answered with just a hint of mischief in her tone.

“I’ll say,” Aang shook his head a second time, before eyeing her up. “But since you brought it up…” there was a moment’s silent hesitation before the young boy continued. “I hear that you were thinking about… offering to adopt me?”

I haven’t even told Zuko yet, and he knows already?

“And where did you hear that from, if I may ask?”

“It came up around Azula.”

“My daughter knows how to keep a secret better than that,” the regent put her hands on her hips. “Is there something that you’re ‘forgetting’ to mention?”

“She… might have been talking with Iroh at the time,” he admitted, hands behind his back, grey eyes suddenly very interested in his boots.

“You were eavesdropping?” Ursa frowned down at him.

“…Sooorta?” he offered her a feeble grin.

The Fire Lady crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a look of maternal disappointment.

“Heh heh…” the Avatar broke eye contact by coughing once into his hand.

“…Well, since apparently privacy is a luxury not even afforded to royalty, I may as well come clean,” she sighed wearily. “Yes, I was considering that. You’re too young to be without a guardian.”

“Mmm… I dunno about that,” he shrugged. “But either way, I’d have to agree to something like that, wouldn’t it?”

Legally? No. Practically? Yes. Containing this child in any place short of an actual dungeon would be all but impossible if he decided that he truly didn’t want to be there.

“Yes,” she nodded. “It isn’t as though I’d force you into it. What do you think about that as an idea?”

“Eh…I dunno,” he said, spinning one finger to create a miniaturized tornado, into which he stared. “The monks always taught me that the reason we remove all children from their parents at birth was because family ties you down to the earth. Prevents your spirit from soaring freely into enlightenment.”

They stole babies from cradles, denied them all that was natural, so that they would have nothing but dogma and those who parroted it from the most impressionable age. The regent had to fight to keep the sheer loathing from her expression. Abominable.

Agni did not demand such a horrific severing of natural love from his children. Even the Fire Sages, who foreswore titles and inheritance in order to pursue their duties, did so freely, as adults. They were not expected to pretend that their own families did not exist.

“So, it’d be going against a lot of what I learned to just take on somebody else as my mother, after mine gave me up to the temple.”

Ursa felt deep, simultaneous surges of pity and disgust for the nameless woman who had birthed this child, who had had her mind so profoundly mutilated that she had willingly surrendered him to the care of some anonymous stranger, never to see him again, purely because some religious authority had told her to. She remembered very well what it had been like to hold Zuko, to hold Azula, for the very first time. Had anyone then made the same demand of her, be it the Fire Sages or Ozai or Azulon himself, the answer would have been a jet of the hottest fire she could muster, directly into their face.

And if he never met her, how would he know that his mother was an Air Nomad, and not some foreign woman whose cradle was literally robbed? Ursa wondered, after that deeply disturbing scenario occurred to her.

“Buuut…” still maintaining the tiny whirlwind, he gave her a side eye. “Maybe there could be an exception this time… if you’d do something for me.”

Bargaining? The Fire Lady blinked once.

“What is it you want?” she asked aloud.

“I want you to meet with the Earth King, before the comet comes,” he replied immediately. “Before the attack on Ba Sing Se.”

The woman’s amber eyes widened slightly at the sheer audacity of this boy.

“Meet with the Earth King?” she repeated.

“Yep,” he nodded. “Think about how many lives could be saved if you could find some way to end the war without attacking the city. Think of how many children would get to keep their mothers, their fathers, their homes, if you don’t make the largest city in the world into a warzone,” he put special emphasis on that particular word.

“Aang,” she said in a patient tone. “We’ve been through this before. You know why withdrawal is not a viable-”

“I didn’t say withdrawal,” he cut her off with a shake of his head. “I said meet him. Talk to him. You make a lot of assumptions about a man you’ve never even seen because of the stories you’ve heard about the Dai Li, but he’s still a human being, and all human beings have some goodness inside them.” There was an earnest look in his grey eyes. “Please, Lady Ursa. I know I don’t know a lot about wars, or politics, or lines on maps, but I do know something about making friends with people from other countries. A hundred years ago, I had friends in the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. It’s possible. I know it is.”

“You just want me to… talk to him? Without even a definite plan of what the proposed solution is to be?”

“You know politics. He knows politics. If there could be just a little bit of trust between you, a little bit of goodwill…” the young airbender swallowed once, “then I really think there’s a chance that between the two of you, you could figure something out. There’s a chance that the city could be spared. That the soldiers of your army and his, the ordinary people who’d get caught up in the battle, that the war refugees who have nowhere else to go could be saved. Don’t you think that’s at least worth a try?”

The woman was, for just a moment, struck by the sheer sincerity of the boy’s tone. Then reality reasserted itself.

“Even if I did think that, you know we’ve tried sending messengers to the Impenetrable City before. All have been turned away at the outer wall. This time would be no different.”

“Of course it’d be. Some big wall can’t stop me from getting to the palace,” he pointed a thumb straight at his own chest, “and delivering an invitation straight to the king.”

“You want to go in there alone,” her amber eyes widened in alarm. “You?!”

“The Air Nomads used to carry messages between warring sides in times where no one else could,” Aang told her with a nod. “If it meant helping people to understand each other. If it meant helping the cause of peace. I’m willing to do the same here.”

“You know what happens in that city, Aang,” the Fire Lady gave him a concerned look. “The Earth King won’t stand to hear a word spoken of the war he’s lost. If you enter that place and attempt to talk to anyone, let alone him, about it, the Dai Li will take you away, and you’ll vanish into some black pit beneath the earth.”

“If it means saving so many lives,” the young Avatar declared resolutely, “I’m willing to risk it.”

“Avatar you may be, but you’re still a child!” she said insistently. “It’s far too dangerous for you!”

“I’m an airbending master,” he countered, sending a blistering gust of wind racing down the corridor to add weight to his statement. “I can firebend.” He stuck one hand straight up and sent a roaring jet of orange and yellow flame streaming upwards towards the ceiling. “I can move like the wind.”

He conjured a ball of air, hopped up and balanced atop it with one foot, and promptly zipped straight up the nearby wall, leaping off as he neared the apex and doing a graceful backflip in the air. The regent’s amber eyes tracked him as he descended right back to the ground with an easy nonchalance, landing comfortably right in front of her.

“And I can fly.” Aang called his staff to him with a quick beckoning gesture, twirled it a few times, and summoned its gliding wings with a clicking noise. “If anyone can go in there and be sure of coming back out again, it’s me.”

“No,” the Fire Lady told the last airbender. “It’s far too dangerous.”

“Please,” he pleaded with her. “This could be the last chance for thousands of lives! Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, all of them! You have no idea how many people will die fighting in that city, how many homes will be destroyed, how many lives and families will be broken forever! Even with the comet behind you, the battle is sure to be brutal – and will you even be able to control the fires you unleash?” His wide grey eyes were actually beginning to water. “There’ll be so much death and destruction, so much misery and pain… but you have a chance to stop it from happening! Don’t you think that’s at least worth a little bit of risk?”

Ursa hesitated for just a moment, staring deep into the eyes of this child.

“It’s risking one kid who can run like the wind, versus risking thousands of kids who can’t,” he continued. “And I’ll make it worth your while! All you have to do is agree to come, to meet with the Earth King and talk to him in good faith, and I’ll give you what you want. Think of how much legitimacy that would get you in the lands beyond the Fire Nation, to hear that the Avatar agreed to be adopted by the Fire Lord’s mother. It could help convince a lot of people that you mean what you say about not meaning the world harm, that you really are trying to govern it better for everyone. It could mean the difference between feeling like they have to fight or not for a lot of people.”

A surprisingly astute observation from such a naïve boy, she thought to herself.

“News like that… it would really help Zuko out.” The Avatar’s grey eyes continued to peer imploringly into the Fire Lady’s amber ones. “Whatever happens, there’ll be so much land, so many people that he’s going to have to govern at just seventeen. If they all saw that even the Avatar had faith in him, wouldn’t they have some too?”

“…Perhaps,” she admitted in a quiet tone.

“See?” his expression brightened up significantly. “And all I want in return is for you to go there. To see the city with your own eyes. To meet its king. And to try and make peace. You can save thousands of lives, Fire Nation and Water Tribe lives included, help out your son, and help your entire nation. And all I’m asking is for you to go over there and talk.”

There was a moment of tense, pregnant silence throughout that palace hallway. The Fire Nation’s leader and the world spirit’s incarnation continued to stare one another down for several long, drawn-out seconds.

“And if you don’t, if you’re just going to launch an attack on the biggest city in the world without even trying to solve things nonviolently first, then I’ll… I’ll…” Aang swallowed, reluctance writ all over his face. “I’ll leave,” he managed at length. “And I won’t come back.”

The older woman felt a sudden, sharp intake of breath as her eyes grew a fraction wider.

“Where will you go?” she asked him after a second’s pause. “The Air Temples are empty. Everything that remains of your people is here.”

“Whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t matter,” the airbender took a step forward and actually pointed the tip of his glider right between her eyes. She had to wave a quick hand to ward off nearby bodyguards. “Because wherever it is, you won’t see me again.”

“Do you have any idea of what the consequences of that decision would be, child?”

“I know people have seen me around Caldera, and at Zuko’s wedding,” he said. “So, if I go missing, word will get around. You can’t cover something like that up. Everyone will know that you had the Avatar – and you lost him.”

“You’d be out in a world you’ve not seen in a hundred years. Completely on your own, at the age of twelve.” Now it was Ursa’s turn to look imploring. “Aang, please, think about what you’re saying.”

“I have,” he swallowed again, doing his best to look firm. “I’m the Avatar, I can’t just… do nothing.” His face grew more downcast. “And you can’t keep me here if I don’t let you.”

“You’re a guest here,” she insisted adamantly. “Not a prisoner. You’ve never been a prisoner.”

“And I can stay a guest. Be more than a guest. Live in your house, go to your schools, be adopted into your family. I just need you to give me something in return. Please,” the Avatar pleaded once again, withdrawing his staff and extending his opposite hand. “Please just give peace one last chance.”

There was another extended period of silence between them, and it seemed in that moment as though all the world was balanced on a knife’s edge.

“…This would all be contingent on my children agreeing to this, you understand?” the regent spoke again at last. “I won’t force them to accept such a sudden and unusual arrangement in our family if they’re adamantly opposed.”

The young airbender immediately perked up. “So, you’ll do it?!”

“Yes, child,” Ursa sighed, speaking in a slow and careful manner. “If you can get him to come out, I will meet with King Kuei, in person, before the walls of Ba Sing Se, and talk peace with him.”

It’s not going to work, she added mentally. He’ll never agree to enough concessions to make a last-second agreement politically palatable to the Fire Nation. If there is anything that characterizes that Earth Kingdom’s leadership, it’s stubborn resistance to change.

“Yes!” Aang pumped his fist, a bright smile appearing on his youthful face as he looked up at her. “Trust me, you won’t regret this!”

But you might, when your naivete runs headlong into political realities, she thought with a twinge of pity.

“It must be the king himself,” she warned him. “I won’t let some bureaucratic flunkies try and use this opportunity to stall out the comet with the byzantine protocols of that city. Tell him that if he cares at all for his city, or his country, he will come to meet with me in person.”

“I’ll get him for you, don’t worry,” the boy declared confidently. “Appa and I can fly way over the walls, straight to the palace. I can prove to him that I’m the Avatar. If you give me a message with the Fire Nation’s royal seal on it, I can put it in his hands personally. He’ll come outside to meet you, I’m sure of it.”

“Before I do any such thing, child,” Ursa said, her tone deeply seriously. “You must promise me something as well.”

“What’s that?”

“That if that man sets his Dai Li upon you for daring to bring him ill news…”

“When” seems more likely.

“You will take your glider, and your bison, and fly,” the Fire Lady demanded. “Fly back to us, to the safety of our lines. Do not try to fight it out in some foolhardy attempt to persuade him. Do not try to play the hero. Just come back to me in one piece.” She looked him in the eye once again. “Promise me that you will do this, Aang.”

“Don’t worry,” the Avatar nodded, putting one hand over his heart. “I promise.”

Going out past curfew, a pale girl clad in black and dark red observed. I knew it.

Michi’s daughter was crouched low atop a green-tiled roof. The night sky overhead was bright, the moon and stars giving off plenty of light in spite of the former’s waning stage. She could clearly make out the lone figure in a deep green winter cloak emerging from a darkened house just across the street from her perch. It was, itself, only about a block away from one the former public buildings that had been commandeered for use by the expanded Fire Army garrison that General Xian had brought to Omashu. A convenient place to hire local help, and ironically not a place the nighttime patrols tended to focus very hard on. After all, a local cleaner or cook who seemed cooperative enough during the day was not the most natural target for suspicion.

Down at the street level, the lone man pulled his hooded cloak tighter about himself, cast a quick glance in either direction, and then darted out of the shadows of his doorframe and into a nearby alley. The noble girl poised on the rooftop gave him a few seconds to get out of direct line of sight before taking a running leap into a nearby mail chute, using it to slide quickly down to the street below, and then taking off after him as fast and as quietly as she could manage.

The hunter knew what she was doing. She’d spent the last few days pouring over the usually mind-numbing scrawlings of soldiers and bureaucrats with an intensity of focus that would have surprised anyone that knew her. She hadn’t cared in the least about the situation in Omashu until it had made her care, and then it was as though a switch had been flipped. She’d spent time familiarizing herself with the conquered city’s generalities, before moving on to the specifics. One specific in particular was of great interest.

Mai and her mother and her brother hadn’t just been out for a random stroll on that fateful night. The governor’s wife had just been meeting with the higher-ups of some local artisan’s guild about… something or the other. She didn’t remember, and she hadn’t cared at the time. She still didn’t. She was just there to stand quietly in the background like a good official’s daughter while Mom hobnobbed with some of the more influential locals, and Dad had some other meetings in the newly built governor’s mansion that had seemed less appropriate for children.

For all that her quarry was clearly in a hurry, his progress was hindered by his apparent determination to keep to shadows, darting from one to the other in quick bursts rather than maintaining a steady pace. The noblewoman caught sight of him again soon enough, peering around alley corner with his back to her. The moment she did, she retreated into the shadows of a nearby pavilion herself, taking refuge behind a currently leafless shrub without taking her eyes off of him.

The family’s intended route back to the governor’s mansion hadn’t been public information. Hadn’t even been told to the guild leaders Mom had been meeting with. The ongoing rebellion had been a known issue even then, and precautions like switching up the ways they went were just a standard precaution. And yet the resistance had known just where the strike needed to fall. Had been waiting for them.

The dark streets of the occupied city played host to a strange, unknowing game of cat and mouse, as the mysterious figure in green made his way through city block after city block by creeping through the darkest shadows, dodging several expanded patrols of spearmen and firebenders along the way. And all the while, just a little further back, the pale, dark-haired girl stayed just as far back as she dared while avoiding those same detachments. Sometimes she lost sight of her quarry and had to track his progress by the soft sounds of boots on cobblestone alone. But she wasn’t going to let herself lose him.

The only people who had known the exact details of their security arrangements that night had been Mom, Dad, and those four worthless spearmen who had had the nerve to call themselves Lady Michi’s guards. Useless and stupid those men might be, but they had been as shocked and appalled by their charge’s sudden demise as anyone, and their careers would be permanently stunted by it. Besides, they were all Fire Nation, and none of them had any reason to betray their homeland for some dirt grubber cityfolk.

But lack of treacherous intent didn’t necessarily mean lack of treacherous effect. An amicable conversation with a seemingly friendly local, a bit too much to drink during wine cards, it was easy to imagine how some seemingly trivial details might find their way to an enemy agent. Mai had had a hunch that might have been the start of the assassination plot, and for that reason had spent the last several nights staking out the areas in the vicinity of the garrison buildings that her mother’s useless guards had been living in. For several moons it had turned up nothing. Then came tonight.

The shadowed pursuit lasted for several minutes, with the unknown man leading the noble girl down a series of back alleys, empty markets, and quiet streets. Mai kept herself as silent as she could throughout it all, breathing carefully at an easy rhythm, her padded shoes making the absolute minimum of noise on the stone streets, determined not to miss this chance by another ill twist of fate. At long last, the green-clad man came to a compact, two-story stone house in one of the city’s poorer, rougher districts, just one of many such near-identical darkened buildings along the narrow and winding road. She watched, pressed up against the side of another building three houses away, as her quarry fumbled over something in the depths of his clothing before finally managing to unlock the front door with a barely audible click.

The reports that she’d poured over had painted a clear enough picture. King Bumi’s removal from the city had done nothing to slow the murderous savages’ campaign. If anything, the tempo of sabotage and attacks had only picked up with his departure under heavy guard, culminating in the ruthless murder of the governor’s wife. The sewer rats had obviously chosen a new leader for themselves. If the resistance’s back was to be broken, and her mother’s death avenged, then that mysterious individual would need to be hunted down. Ferreting out some menial spy wasn’t good enough.

Slowly, cautiously, Azula’s old classmate approached the building her target had vanished into. No lamps lit up as she drew near, no voices came from inside. Darting quickly across the front, she slipped into the narrow space between homes. Locating a thin, slitted window opening covered by a deep green curtain, she pressed her ear up next to it and waited. At first, there was nothing. Then more nothing. Then still more nothing. The Mai of a few weeks ago might have gotten bored and wandered off, this one held her position with a rigid and unbending focus.

At last, her patience was rewarded with the sound of several quick, sharp wraps in rapid succession. A few seconds passed, and then came the heavy grinding of stone on stone. There was a muffled grunt, the echoed sound of flesh hitting rock, and then more grinding, The black-haired girl waited outside in silent stillness for perhaps a minute before daring to softly brush aside the curtain just enough for one eye to peer in through the window slit. The building was, as she’d suspected, entirely deserted.

You won’t be able to hide much longer, she thought to herself.

Mai would never forget that night. Never forget the wailing and screaming of little Tom-Tom as she’d pulled him from the wreckage, pulled him from the limp arms and broken body that had spent their very last seconds shielding him. The sight of her baby brother’s tears, mixed with their mother’s blood, running down his two-year-old face had reappeared in more of her dreams than she cared to count.

Somewhere in this city, someone was going to pay.

The turtleducks of the private gardens were still a little sluggish. This far south the little creatures didn’t need to enter a state of torpor during the winter as their northern kindreds did, but like everything else in the Fire Nation they still preferred to take it easy over the cooler months. They bobbed around in their expansive pond at a greater distance than usual from Ursa, showing less interest in the small chunk of floating bread that she dished out than they usually did. Of course, it might not have helped that there was a predatory avian perched on the tip of her long gold-rimmed black shoulder pad.

“Come on, little ones,” the Fire Lady encouraged them. “Don’t be shy. I’ve brought some of the mantou you all like so much.” She tore a little piece off another of the steamed buns and tossed it gently in their direction. “It’s alright, you can come closer. Nushi is a very good girl, she won’t harm you. Isn’t that right?”

The dragon hawk, her vivid crimson and pure white feathers looking stunning in the afternoon sun, bobbed her head up and down several times and gave a little affirmative screech. The regent smiled affectionately up at her bird, reaching up and scratching beneath her chin with one long golden fingernail guard. Nushi was a beautiful bird, of a line bred over many generations for their aesthetics almost as much as their intelligence and friendliness to humans. She leaned appreciatively into Ursa’s metal nail, showing no fear of its sharp edge.

“Perhaps this is the wrong time of year to be introducing them,” Iroh said from beside her, leaning back against the large tree against which they both sat. “They’ll be laying this year’s eggs sometime in the next few weeks. It probably has them on their guard.”

“That’s exactly why I’m trying to get them used to her now,” she replied with a vague hint of exasperation in her tone. “I don’t want them going into a panic thinking she’s going to gobble up their hatchlings while they’re still softshells. And if the little ones get to know her from the moment they’re born, then that’ll make things so much easier over the course of the year.”

“And that’s important to you, is it?”

“Don’t tell me the great Dragon of the West has lost his famous foresight,” she said with a half-smile. “Where else am I to spend all my spare time once Zuko’s birthday has come and gone?”

The grey-haired man chuckled a little. “And your plan is to start his reign by stealing one of his birds?”

“Nushi is my bird now,” the dark-haired woman replied a little defensively.

As if on cue, the messenger hawk scooted sideways atop the shoulder pad, bent over, and began rubbing the side of Ursa’s face with the top of its head. The presence of a sharp beak within inches of her amber eyes caused the women no perceptible distress.

“Indeed?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” she puffed out her chest a little.

The marital siblings shared a quick little chuckle. Ursa reclined slowly back against the tree trunk, giving the bird plenty of time to hop off her shoulder and onto the grass, before reaching down for one of two steaming porcelain cups. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep swallow, savoring the rich flavor just as she did the gentle breeze on her face. When she opened them again, it was with a satisfied smile on her face.

“I have to say,” she told him as she replaced her cup on its plate. “You still make the best jasmine brews of any I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, I’ve had plenty of time to practice,” he said modestly, pouring both of them an additional helping. “Being retired comes with certain advantages.”

“Well, it’s at least good to know that you’re spending your time productively.”

“Hah, now you sound like my father,” the old man took a sip from his own cup as the regent suppressed the urge to wince. “He was always chiding me if I spent too much time away from my lessons.”

“I suppose he thought you needed them, if you were to become the next Fire Lord,” she was reminded a little unpleasantly of how tightly she had had to pack her own son’s schedule at times.

“I suppose he did,” he gave a little shrug. “But in the end, destiny led me down a different path.”

“Do you ever regret it?” she asked her marital brother, savoring another sip. “Declining the crown?”

“No,” the retired general shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Not at all?” she pressed a little. “You’ve never even had a wistful idea of what you could have done with so much power?”

“Experience has taught me,” Iroh said, “that power is overrated.”

How different you are from your brother.

“I think happiness and love are what really matter in life,” he continued. “And especially the people that you love.”

Love is a power all its own, she thought. As are people who love you.

“Yes…” Ursa drained her cup, staring momentarily into its dregs. “I can certainly see why you’d feel that way. After everything you’ve been through.”

“…I lost my son, my father, and my brother in the space of a few days,” he said in a more somber tone. “Then I was forced to watch as my niece and my sister-in-law were almost killed before my very eyes, by people that professed to be loyal to me. By people concerned only with my having power,” he spart the word like it was some sort of curse. “Things like that…” he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Really make you stop and question what it is that means the most to you.”

The Fire Lady reached out her hand, running its long golden nail guards gently along the old general’s back. He let out a weary sigh.

“So, no, Ursa,” Iroh said. “I don’t regret it. Even a little bit.”

“I’m sorry if I brought back unpleasant memories,” she said softly.

“What is done… is done,” he told her. “And if you stare down at your own feet forever, you will miss the rising of the sun.”

“Wise words to live by.” The regent withdrew her hand, cradling her teacup in it and using the other to scratch Nushi’s crimson back feathers.

“That they are!” he looked up and gave an affable grin. “I find that my life has become much more pleasant once I started learning to focus on the simple pleasures each day can bring.”

“Is that why you’ve stopped coming to the war meetings?” she asked.

“…I only ever came because my son wore that uniform once,” his tone dropped a pitch again.

Ursa found her mind drawn back to the plan proposed during Zuko’s very first war meeting, almost three years ago now, and found that she needed no further explanation.

“But since it seems that you and my nephew have that matter well in hand, I don’t think there’s any more need for me,” Azulon’s firstborn shook his head. “And to be frank with you, I’ve had more than enough war for one lifetime.”

“I certainly won’t begrudge you that,” she replied, offering him a soft, comforting smile. “You’ve more than earned your peace, Iroh.”

“…I appreciate the thought, at least,” he halfway returned it.

“And if I did, who would I turn to for advice on how to while away my days after I step down later this year?” The Fire Lady’s smile grew warmer. “Like you said, you’ve had plenty of practice.”

“I don’t think my nephew will let you off quite as easily as he lets me,” he grinned wryly at her before fortifying himself with more tea.

“Nonsense. Zuko is a good boy, he wouldn’t work his old mother too hard.”

“Don’t be too sure about that. I think he still remembers who it was that put him through all those classes on protocol.”

Ursa and Iroh shared another laugh. Even the dragon hawk gave a sort of high-pitched squawk in tandem with them.

“I have faith in my son. I think the most work he’ll give me this year is a new grandchild to look after.”

“Hopefully one that takes more after their mother when it comes to appreciating the fine art of teamaking,” her marital brother gave a quick snort. “‘Hot leaf juice’ indeed.”

“When the only thing to make a brew from back home is seaweed, I suppose anything else will seem like an oasis in the Si Wong.”

“Are you implying that Yue’s standards are too low?!” he sounded almost offended.

“Who, me? Never,” she waved one taloned hand in front of her in a gesture of appeasement.

“That’s good,” he took a long, deliberate swallow of his tea. “I would hate to have to carry a grudge against you.”

“And I’d hate to be on the receiving end of such a vendetta. I’m sure it would haunt me all the days of my life.”

“Yes,” her brother-in-law nodded. “Yes, it would.”

“Well, regardless, I think the joys of parenthood ought to keep the two of them run too ragged to waste too much time worrying about me.”

“Even if you do get that lucky, life will not let you off so easily. As I recall you have another child you’ll still need to worry about.”

“I do still need to finish arranging her marriage,” the regent remarked, helping herself to one more cup. “It will be time soon enough.”

“You believe you’ve finally found the right candidate then?”

“I’m down to the last handful.” Ursa smiled a little ruefully. “Azula is… not a conventional sort of bride. She needs someone whom she can respect, and someone who’ll be useful politically, and considering the standards she sets for herself and everyone around her that’s not an easy bar for a prospective groom to clear.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

“Don’t remind me. It was much easier for Zuko.”

“And despite that, you’re still wanting to take on the burden of one final child as well?” Her marital brother eyed her quizzically. “Aang may not be Azula, but he would still certainly pose some… unique challenges.”

“Yes,” Ursa sat her teacup down and stared at the pond in front of her. “…Can you imagine it, Iroh? Waking up a hundred years out of time, the world you knew long gone and everyone you ever loved dust in the wind?” She shook her head sadly. “The poor child needs someone who’ll look after him.” The regent looked over at the former general. “I’ll have the time, and the energy, and the experience.”

“Is your decision being influenced at all by the knowledge that he’s your grandfather reborn?”

“Possibly,” she acknowledged. “But if so, what of it? Destiny has brought us together, and I don’t think our connection exists for no reason. Perhaps the Avatar slept for so long because his spirit was waiting for someone who could care for him when he awoke.”

“…Destiny is a funny thing sometimes,” he mused aloud. “And you can’t always tell the reason for why things happen the way they do.”

There was a brief period of silence throughout the garden, broken only by the rustle of the green leaves overhead.

“Well, such weighty matters aside,” the regent reached down to her pet bird, which hopped readily onto her robed forearm. She stroked its feathers with two fingers. “I believe we were discussing ways to spend the time in retirement. As I recall, you and I share at least one pastime.”

“You mean gardening?”

“Naturally,” she nodded. “How are those tea plants you’re keeping in that greenhouse coming along?”

“You tell me,” he replied with a slight, sly grin. “You’re drinking them.”

His sister-in-law blinked. “I am?”

“Oh, so you didn’t notice,” his smile grew wider. “That must mean I’m doing at least as well as the farmed leaves I usually use.”

“I suppose I can’t deny it,” she replied, glancing at their shared teapot. “I’ve always been more of a fruit woman myself, but perhaps there’s still something I can learn from your experience.”

“Tea and fruit, nothing wrong with combining them,” he suggested.

“I suppose you speak from experience.”

“If you’re looking for ways to use your free time, taking the opportunity to try out new blends is always a worthwhile endeavor.”

“You know,” she told him half-jokingly, “with the repertoire you’ve collected, one of these days you might have to open up your own tea shop. Gift your knowledge to the world.”

The marital siblings shared another good-natured laugh. Ursa laid her head back against the tree truck, staring up at the clear blue sky with a contented smile on her face.

Chapter Text

The Spirit Oasis was always something special, an island of warmth and green hidden amongst a sea of frigid white and blue. But, at least to Zuko’s mind, the Water Tribe’s holy place didn’t reveal its most impressive aspects until after dark. It was only then, with the light of the moon and stars shining down upon it, that the still waters of the sacred pool seemed to glitter and shine with a light of their own, as though the pond was filled with hundreds of sparkling gemstones. The air itself somehow seemed even warmer than in the daytime, and the plants with their pink and white blooms – which he had learned flowered all year round and were an exact match for no other flower he’d ever seen of either Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom origin – appeared to stand taller, their leaves and petals turned skywards and opened wide. From a certain angle, they bore some resemblance to worshippers raising their arms in praise of a deity.

Of course, his mind making that connection might also be because that was exactly what his wife was currently doing. Standing beneath the light of a waxing crescent moon, dressed in stark white ritual garb, Princess Yue appeared to be a creature caught halfway between the spirit and mortal worlds, something radiant yet paradoxically ethereal. Facing the koi pond and the celestial body looming over it, her back to her husband, both arms lifted high over her head, the moon child was singing.

Yue’s song was a slow, solemn, ritualistic melody. It had few words to it, being for the most part a simple cadence formed from the raw voice itself, rising high before crashing down into lower notes like the waves of the ocean in regular, predictable patterns. For all its lack of much technical sophistication, the song had an odd way of pulling the listener out of himself. Taking them out of thoughts and plans and complicated ideas, and into something older and far more primal. To an enraptured listener, the world became one of raw emotion, where spirit called out to spirit not with trifling words, but with the entirety of its being. It seemed, to Zuko at least, like an echo of the world before the world. It would almost have been a shame that, besides the two of them and two masked waterbenders standing on the opposite edge of either bridge, there was no one around to hear it, except for the fact that none of the three had the presence of mind to think so abstractly.

At that moment, in that place where the physical and spirits worlds were drawn so close together, there was nothing but the heart, nothing but the song. Even the thin ceremonial paper on which Agni’s child had personally written the names of every single member of the Fire Nation and his father-in-law every member of the Water Tribe who had perished upon the royal couple’s arrival was forgotten, left to slowly dissolve in the pool’s rocky sediment. All anyone could do was listen, spellbound, as one young, tiny spirit sang notes of grief and loss, sorrow and regret, seemingly in tune with the ever-present crash of the waterfall at their backs. As the moon child’s voice rose and fell, the waves of the current flowing around the island rose and fell, peaked and crashed, flowing ever onwards all the while. Within the calm waters of the sacred pool, the twin koi fish continued to dance their eternal dance, black and white merging seamlessly within the sparkling blue.

How long the four of them stood there, each as caught up in the ritual as any other, none could have said. Even for the snow-haired girl herself, time seemed to have no meaning. There was no beginning and no end, there was only this moment, and there was only the spirit’s song. And yet, even that seeming constant was as flowing and changeable as the northern element itself, for very gradually the low notes of mourning fell away. The pitch of the girl’s voice rose. It became less and less a cry of sadness, and more and more a siren’s song, a gentle beam of moonlight amidst a dark forest. Let the cool waters carry you away, the melody seemed to say. Do not struggle. Do not try to fight the tide. Let go of pain and despair and sink gently into the stream. Follow it into the world beyond and be at peace.

It was more than a little jarring when the moon child’s voice suddenly ceased. Being abruptly thrust back into the ordinary world of the physical and mundane, after Agni knew how long of feeling like his soul might detach from his body at any moment and reenter something deep and primordial that felt simultaneously intimately familiar and completely alien, left the Fire Lord feeling dazed and disoriented. He blinked several times, shaking his head back and forth and rubbing one of his temples. When he did open his eyes again, it immediately struck him that the moon, which had only just crept over the horizon when they had begun the ceremony shortly after sunset, was now all but directly overhead.

Exhaling deeply, his golden eyes wandered down from the heavens back to the woman standing in front of him. Yue was breathing heavily, and as she at last turned away from koi pond, he could make out a thin sheen of sweat across her face. The ethereal aspect that she had possessed while singing was gone. In place of something that had moments ago seemed half a spirit herself was a simple, dark-skinned mortal girl in a white dress, rubbing her throat with one hand. She looked over at him with tired blue eyes.

Putting on a soft smile, Zuko took a few steps forward and wrapped one arm gently around the girl’s thin waist. She leaned against him for support, resting her head against his neck while trying to catch her breath. The two stood there in peaceful silence for just a little while, listening to the waterfall and the lapping waves of the surrounding stream. It was only once Yue’s breathing had slowed down and the hammer of her heartbeat against his chest had receded to a dull thump that the southern king broke the quiet spell.

“Thank you,” he bent over whispered quietly into his wife’s ear.

“I…” the northern princess looked up, pausing to swallow another large gulp of air. “I hope it helps them,” she managed in a raspy tone.

“I’m sure it will,” the Fire Lord replied, rubbing her back with his thumb.

The Fire Lady gave a soft, satisfied sort of sigh before leaning back into him.

“Who’s a good little boy?” Yue asked, running a gentle finger down the forehead and nose bridge of a tiny dark-skinned baby swaddled in heavy furs. “You are!” she announced with a smile, poking him gently right between his big blue baby eyes. “Yes, you are!” Her grin only grew wider as the child’s tiny, pudgy hands reached up and managed to grasp her thin index finger. “Yes, you are!” she repeated, allowing the digit to be guided without resistance right into the curious infant’s mouth.

“Yue,” the twenty-one-year-old holding the bundle said, in a mildly reproachful tone. “If you’re going to be letting a baby, much less my baby, suck on your fingers, trim your nails first. I don’t care what the fashion is back in the Fire Nation.”

“Awww, come on, Aunt Suumi,” the younger girl protested. “Look at him, he likes it!”

“That’s because Vonoq is five months old and doesn’t know any better,” she shook her head. “Now get your finger out of my son’s mouth before he cuts his tongue!”

The moon child sighed. “Yes, Auntie.”

“I don’t know what good nails that long are supposed to be anyway,” Suumi remarked as her niece attempted to pry her index finger from her son’s toothless mouth, which the baby resisted. “How’s a woman supposed to sew, let alone gut a fish, with nails half the length of her fingers?!”

“Things are… different in the south, Auntie,” the princess’s smile faded a little as her tiny cousin continued trying to pull her slowly withdrawing finger back into his mouth. “Come on, Vonoq,” she urged him, “be good for your Mama, okay? Let me go.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” the older woman frowned a little, echoing the expression developing on her child’s face. “Is it true that they even make the princess learn the ways of the warrior down there?”

“Well…” Yue frowned and finally bit the bullet, ripping her finger completely out of the baby’s grip. The little boy’s lip trembled as she looked up again. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

“How awful!” Suumi looked momentarily repulsed before quickly shifting her attention to her firstborn, rocking him back and forth and cooing, preempting what had seconds earlier looked like an inevitable fit. After a short interval, the baby’s expression had settled, and she held him close to her chest. “What kind of nation is it that won’t spare even its royal women from that? Imagine being taken from your dolls as a little girl and forced to learn of blood and violence and death.” She shuddered visibly before looking back up into her niece’s face. “Tell me you’re going to bring a bit of civilization to that palace of theirs. Tell me you’re going to let your daughters be girls.”

“I’ll do my best,” the snow-haired girl promised, nodding over at her somewhat mollified-looking aunt.

“And is that why they have you grow your nails so long? So you can file them to those sharp little points and use them for weapons?”

“No,” the princess stifled a chuckle. “It’s a fashion statement for high-class women in the Fire Nation. The Earth Kingdom too. It means that you don’t have to work with your hands.”

“Even a woman who’s risen to manage her clan’s whole household should still work with her hands,” her aunt said with a scowl on her face, rocking her son back and forth even as she did. “Indolence is the start of a bad character. Tell me your time with those southerners hasn’t made you forget that, at least.”

“Of course not,” Yue shook her head once before coughing softly.

“Good,” Suumi said, nostrils flaring once before returning her eyes to her baby. “Imagine having sunk so low you let your daughters get forced into a man’s work.” She glanced briefly back up at her niece. “If you must live down there, then you should at least use your position to teach the southern women some self-respect. Getting them to trim their nails in a proper feminine manner might be a good way to start.”

“Zuko’s Mama wears her nails even longer than mine,” the moon child giggled again. “Don’t let him hear you talking like that.”

“Don’t let me hear you talking like what?” said a familiar voice from behind her.

“Your majesty,” Yue’s aunt’s expression, and tone, changed in an instant the young Fire Lord stepped through the thick blue curtain separating the modest-sized hearth room from the remainder of the dwelling, her own husband only a few paces behind him. She bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with her single free hand. “I was just offering your wife some advice on caring for a newborn.” She looked up slightly as the two men approached. “I thought it might help her to know that long, sharp nails will get in the way.”

“You may rise,” Zuko told her, though it really just amounted to standing up straight and letting go of her long skirt. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” the older of the two women assured him. “But I’m afraid you’ve returned a bit early.” She gave her husband a meaningful glance. “The sea prunes haven’t finished stewing yet.”

“It was felt that it might be a warmer wait in here,” Utoq replied, eyeing his niece’s husband from behind.

The Fire Lord himself had taken a few steps forward, where he looked at little Vonoq, then Suumi, who nodded a little bit reluctantly and loosened her grip on her son just a bit. When the infant’s blue eyes shifted from his mother’s chest to the newcomers, he cocked his head at the strange looking light-skinned man and slowly reached one curious, chubby hand out towards him.

“Do you mind?” the southern king asked.

“It’s not very traditional,” Suumi muttered, glancing quickly down at her son before letting out a little sigh. “But if it pleases your majesty…” with some reluctance, she carefully reached out and placed Vonoq’s bundle into Zuko’s waiting arms. “Don’t let him put your finger in his mouth,” she instructed as he held the baby against his own chest. “It’s a bad habit and I’m trying to break him of it.”

“Of course,” Zuko nodded before lowering his head towards the little one, who was currently occupied grasping for the black fur lining his parka.

“And hold him closer to you. Babies need warmth and physical contact,” she went right on, frowning slightly even as she took her eyes momentarily off the two to walk over towards the crackling fire in the center of the room and the cooking pot hanging suspended over it. “You may think they can’t tell when you’re not paying attention to them, but they can.” She bent over the steaming pot, and her frown deepened.       

“Here, Auntie,” Yue leaned forward, grasping the stirring spoon herself. “Let me.”

There came a moment of relative quiet in the hearth room, save for the crackle of flames and the bubbling of the pot’s contents. The young ruler rocked his wife’s cousin back and forth a few times, staring down at the infant with an expression almost as curious as the one with which he was himself being regarded. There was, at least, rather less pawing at the other party’s face on his part.

“So, what’s it like?” Zuko leaned over and asked his wife’s uncle in a low voice. “Just becoming a father?”

“It’s a feeling like nothing else,” Utoq answered him in an equally quiet tone. “I always thought it would be burdensome, an onerous duty I owed to my ancestors, but…” he ran a hand through the baby boy’s dark hair and then closed his eyes and smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “The first time I looked into my son’s eyes, I regretted putting it off for so long.” He opened his eyes and looked over at the Fire Lord. “You’re quite fortunate to have married so young, your majesty.” His gaze shifted over towards the opposite side of the firepit, where his wife and niece were preoccupied with scraping the edges of the pot. “And to have been matched with such a bride.”

The younger man followed his eyes, smiling softly as he did – and then started as Vonoq let out an abrupt wail. Zuko looked down at the suddenly squirming, sobbing baby in naked befuddlement. He held him close to his chest and tried rocking him back and forth, but to no avail. If anything, the little one’s crying only grew louder. After a few seconds of futile efforts to console the child, the Fire Lord looked up to find two pairs of blue eyes glaring at him from across the hearth fire.

Neither Yue nor Suumi were so insolent or uncouth as to say anything, of course.

“Can I ask you something?” Zuko said to Arnook one evening, as the two were taking tea in the southern style. “About your tribe?”

The dark-skinned man nodded once. “What’s on your mind?”

Across the low wooden table, the younger man took a drink, then set his half-full, still-steaming cup down upon it.

“Why don’t you train your waterbending women for combat?” the Fire Lord asked.

Arnook sat back and considered it for a moment, trying to find the best way to state something so obvious without coming off as rude or condescending.

“Imagine for a moment that there are two tribes, forever skirmishing over limited resources in a harsh land.” he said after a moment. “One that sends its women to war, and one that doesn’t. Imagine for a moment that there are no differences – in strength, in temperament, in aggression – between the men and the women that make them more or less suitable to the battlefield, and the losses inflicted by combat are the same either way. Only, one tribe’s losses are all men, and the other half men, half women. Consider also that prime fighting age is also the best age for a woman to give birth, the likeliest to produce healthy children, and the likely usefulness of a pregnant warrior. Consider that, historically, more than four of every ten children did not survive their first years of life. Over the generations, which tribe would you guess would have the ability to replenish its losses, to grow its population, faster?”

“The… one that only lost men,” the king replied.

“We’re the descendants of that tribe,” the northern chieftain informed him matter-of-factly.

“…Huh,” his son-in-law looked down at his cup. “I hadn’t really considered that.”

“Perhaps your rich islands allow you the luxury to be more flexible in your ways,” Yue’s father speculated. “The ice sheets do not. Our tribe has spent many generations learning the best ways to survive and thrive on top of the world, to grow our city far past the point other peoples might think possible in such an unforgiving place, and the channels of our traditions run very deep,” here he gave his marital son a somewhat rueful smile. “Though if your wife has her way, there may be changes during your lifetime.”

The younger man shifted his gaze back over to the older, faintly returning his smile.

“But how her efforts will end up remains to be seen,” he shook his head. “And I’m a little surprised that you didn’t consider our reasons already. Even in your nation, which does accept female warriors, I’m given to understand that they’re kept at home to defend and police your islands. Not sent to war abroad.”

“Only in all-volunteer special units,” the king confirmed. “Like the Yuyan.”

“And I doubt many are that eager to volunteer.”

Zuko shook his head.

“I’m sure your predecessors’ reasons for that policy were quite similar to our own,” Arnook suggested. “So, if you consider it, I think you at least ought to be able to understand why our tribe does things the way it does.” He paused to take a swig of the imported suutei tsai brewed from imported leaves, the salty taste far more to his liking than most other southern concoctions. “Even if it doesn’t quite accord with your own ways.”

His son-in-law gave him a quiet, thoughtful look, drank some of his own milk tea, and then nodded in a diplomatic fashion.

“Zuko?” Yue said to her husband, the evening before what was to be their final dinner in the north.

“Hmm?” the Fire Lord turned his head to face the girl in the doorway, away from the white city now turned orange under the sun’s setting light.

“I’d just been thinking,” the Fire Lady continued, stepping out onto the icy balcony beside him, then coughing once.

“About what?”

“Zhao’s men,” she told him. “About why they would do something like what they did. Why would they betray their own Fire Lord?”

Zuko frowned at her. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make excuses for those traitors.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Not that. I just… wanted to know why. So, I read through the interrogators’ notes. And I noticed something.”

Still leaning on the frozen railing, her husband raised an eyebrow.

“For a lot of not, not all, but a lot, it had a lot to do with… well…” the northern princess’s blue eyes wandered down toward the hem of her skirt. “Me.”

“You?” the southern king blinked.

“Me,” she repeated, nodding slightly. “For many of them, they thought I was… a taint. Something foreign, something impure being introduced into Agni’s line. Even that I was some kind of spy, out to manipulate their king’s affections to the detriment of the Fire Nation.”

“You aren’t any of those things!” Zuko declared vehemently as his earlier frown returned. He took a step closer, placing his gloved right hand on his wife’s back. “Yue, please don’t tell me you think you’re somehow to blame for anything that happened when we got here.”

“No, no, it’s not that that,” Yue assured him hastily, covering up a few coughs with one white glove of her own. “The traitors, the murderers, they did what they did by their own choice, not mine.”

The light-skinned young man beside her gave a brief snort, traces of steam visible for just a moment.

“But I did get to thinking: how common are sentiments like that?” the snow-haired girl’s blue eyes showed worry as she glanced at him. “Most of those soldiers are just ordinary men. Some career soldiers, some conscripts, no one especially special.”

“So, you’re worried about how other commoners back in the Fire Nation see you? Is that it?”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. “I don’t want you to start your reign with the nation hating and fearing your Fire Lady, Zuko. I don’t want them thinking that I’m some sort of northern witch that’s placed a spell on their king. Or that I’m out to sabotage them for the benefit of the Water Tribe. That’s not good for you, or them, or me, or anyone.”

The Fire Lord grimaced, running a comforting hand up and down the back of her thick violet parka several times. “I take it you had something in mind?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted before coughing again. “I’ve been to Caldera quite a few times and spent some time on Ember Island with you and your family, but the rest of the Fire Nation just… hasn’t seen much of me since I started coming. You know how tightly controlled access to the capital is.”

The young man gave her a thoughtful look, then nodded.

“So, I was thinking that before I… you know…” her cheeks became a little pinker. “Become a bit less mobile in the next few months.” She paused to cough once, then took a deep, steadying breath. “I could go out on a tour of the Fire Nation. Spend some time out among the common people. Let them see me, let them speak to me, let us get to know each other a little bit better. It’s a lot easier to imagine the worst of someone when they’re a total unknown to you and everyone you know.”

“You want to go alone?” Zuko asked.

“Well, with bodyguards, of course, but yes,” she nodded. “If you’re there then you’re inevitably going to be the focus, and I’d like this trip to be about showing the people that I’m not some kind of scary foreigner whispering poison into their Fire Lord’s ear,” the Fire Lady explained. “That I’m a citizen of the Fire Nation, like they are, and loyal to the crown and country. That I want to do my best for you, and for them.”

“Hmmm…” the young king took a moment to consider it, staring out at the multitiered city and the sparkling pink and orange artic sea beyond. “It’d probably be best to leave your family’s waterbenders behind and just travel with the Royal Procession. Showing that you trust yourself completely to the protection of firebenders would make you look more like what our people expect from a member of the royal family. Break the ice a little bit.”

“Papa wouldn’t be happy to hear about that,” Yue mused as she likewise stared straight ahead before blinking once and turning quickly back to her husband. “Wait, does that mean you’ll let me?”

“We’d need to go over your security arrangements before you went, but as long as you’d be staying within the Fire Nation itself…” Zuko paused, seeming to weigh the proposal up again. “I’ll say it’s a tentative yes.”

The snow-haired princess threw her arms around the southern king and gave a pearly-white smile. “Thank you, Zuko.”

For his part, the young man only winced. “Yue…” he groaned, “watch the shoulder.”

“Oops!” she released him quickly, a flush visible on her cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Papa?” Yue said later that night, after dark. She blinked once, then stared across their palace suite’s sitting room to where Arnook was getting to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Are we late?” Zuko said from just behind where she stood in the doorframe, blue curtains held halfway open. She could all but hear the frown in her husband’s voice. “I thought the farewell feast wasn’t supposed to be for another hour or so?”

“No, no,” her father shook his head before beckoning the two to come in. “Nothing like that. I just wanted the chance to speak to the two of you in private before the chefs have had the opportunity to render you insensate with food,” his blue eyes fell on the southern king, and he smirked slightly, “or foreign wine.”

The young man gave a small, wry grin in return as he slipped through the curtains and fully into the sitting room.

“Well, uh, here we are, I guess,” the snow-haired girl offered as she took a seat across from her sire. “What is it you’re wanting to say?”

The northern chieftain waited, arms folded behind his back, for his son-in-law to likewise settle in before returning to his own seat, his face reassuming a more serious manner as he did.

“…I wasn’t sure if I ought to tell you this while you were here or not,” he began after a short silent spell. “But in the end, I thought you deserved to know.” His blue eyes met his daughter’s and he let out a small sigh. “Especially you, Yue.”

The Fire Lady cocked her head slightly but said nothing.    

“I’m going to tell the two of you something I’ve never told anyone else,” her father continued. “So, please, listen closely.”

At a glance, the young woman could see her husband leaning forward just a little in his seat.

“The spirits… gave me a vision when you were born, Yue. I saw a beautiful, brave, young woman become the moon spirit.”

“…Become the moon spirit?” the moon child’s blue eyes suddenly went wide, and her gasp triggered a brief coughing fit. “You’re talking about me?”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, taking a deep breath.

“B-But how?” she whispered, looking down at the palms of her all too human hands, then flipping them over to stare at the backs. “How could something like that happen?”

“I don’t know,” he closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “There was never much detail to it.” He opened his eyes again and stared directly at his only child. “But you appeared in it much the same as you do now.”

“Are you telling me that some vision told you that Yue’s going to die?!” there was naked alarm in the Fire Lord’s voice, and he was halfway to his feet, one arm thrust protectively in front of her chest.

“I’m telling you that it once did,” the chief confirmed. “But please, sit down. There’s more to tell.”

It took the light-skinned southerner a few seconds to decide to comply, and only then after running his golden eyes over the girl a few times.

“One night many years after I’d had that vision, I awoke with memories of a strange dream that would not fade,” the chieftain went on. “I saw my daughter rising from amidst a sea of fire, and a shining golden corona around her head.” He shook his head. “At the time, I had no idea what it meant, or if it meant anything at all.”

His daughter and son-in-law were staring at him in rapt silence, a crease still visible on the latter’s brow.

“The night of my dream… it wasn’t until I visited your city that I realized it was the same night your grandfather passed,” Arnook said, eyes turning toward Zuko. “The night your father died.”

The Fire Lord just stared back at him in silence, his own golden eyes rapidly going wide.

“Something happened that night that changed the course of fate,” his father-in-law concluded. “After what occurred at the oasis, I’m sure of it.”

“Papa…” Yue leaned forward in her seat, putting one hand on her chest. “If you’ve kept these visions a secret all this time… why?” Two pairs of blue eyes met. “Why now?”

“One last piece of advice for the two of you, I suppose,” he replied in a slow, thoughtful manner. “A word of warning? Of hope? I’m not exactly sure.” The chieftain shook his head. “Don’t ever be entirely certain that you know every upcoming bend of life’s river. Even destinies can be rewritten.”

A warm and sunny afternoon saw the Fire Lady and her proposed adoptive son sitting together in the Fire Lord’s office, a highly detailed map of the Earth Kingdom continent updated with the very latest available battlefield intelligence spread out atop the desk in between them.

“Your ship will be ready to depart soon,” Ursa explained. “We’ve chosen the Wave Hawk for your escort. She’s a fast frigate we’ve pulled off patrol near the southern archipelagos. She can see you across the waves in just over a week and will only need a brief stopover in Fuhai to take on supplies before continuing right up the river,” she traced one long golden nail guard along the winding water route through territory overwhelmingly marked with alternating red and green stripes. “The Fire Navy will be able to ferry you and Appa as far as our fortress network along the shores of West Lake. From there, it should be a short flight to Ba Sing Se.”

“I mean, a trip across the sea would make things easier on Appa, but after that?” Aang looked over the map with a skeptical eye, then traced a path of his own. “Why would I need an escort? A straight line overland is much faster than taking a boat up a river, and the sooner I can get there, the better.”

“Parts of the continent are still contested, even those under our sway,” Ursa explained. “The Earth Kingdom is extremely large, and much of our territorial control still relies on local assistance that isn’t always swift in coming or entirely reliable. There’s plenty of room along the backroads for enemy spies or even entire infiltrating units to operate. It’s entirely possible that some might decide to target you if they find out you’re passing through.”

“I’m not too worried about it,” he shrugged lightly. “An airbender that doesn’t want to get caught probably won’t be.”

“Aang, this is serious,” she told the child. “This is war. People die. I don’t want you to be among them.”

“And I’m serious too,” he answered, frowning a little. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to convince the Earth King to come meet with you. I’ll deal with it. Trust me.”

The dark-haired woman gave a slight sigh, then pushed the ornate container of redwood and brass across the desk towards him.

“Well, on that subject, to give you the best chance possible once you arrive, I’ve had Tse Zin gather up everything we know about the current Earth King for you,” Ursa said, opening the chest to reveal a small handful of unusually thin scrolls.

“It doesn’t look like you know that much,” the Avatar observed, picking out one at apparent random.

“We don’t,” she shook her head, watching as the boy’s grey eyes flicked back and forth across the yellowing paper. “In a hundred years of war, no agent of the Fire Nation has ever penetrated further than Ba Sing Se’s Middle Ring – or at least any that have ever reported back.” The Fire Lady shook her head with a visible grimace. “And as far as we know, Kuei has literally never left the city’s Upper Ring. Possibly not even his palace. Everything we have is third hand at best, or simply public knowledge.”

“So, what do you know?” Aang asked, setting the years-old royal proclamation aside and fishing out another scroll.

“His father died and left him the throne at the age of four, though his Grand Secretariat and Council of Five handled many of his duties until he came of age,” she recited from memory. “Since coming into full power, he’s proven to be deeply reclusive, temperamental, and strange. He won’t allow a word to be spoken about the war within Ba Sing Se on pain of vanishing into his Dai Li’s clutches. He’s never been known to make any appearances anywhere in the broader city. And even in the midst of a raging war his country is losing, he commands entire battalions of soldiers to scour the forests of his kingdom for rare animals to add to his menagerie – he’s apparently especially interested in a mate for his favorite pet. Something called a ‘bear’ if I recall correctly.”

“You mean platypusbear?” the boy asked.

“No,” she shook her head.

“His skunkbear then? Or armadillobear?” he guessed. “Oh, or maybe his gopherbear?”

“No, no, and no,” the regent repeated herself. “According to what little knowledge we have, it’s just… bear.”

“…That place sounds weird.”

“Without question,” she agreed. “One of the few things that we do know about the Earth King, based on interrogations from soldiers that we’ve captured, is that the man does indeed appear to be obsessed with his animals. What I said about him commanding battalions of his men to scour the wilderness for yet more instead of doing anything useful to defend his kingdom, let alone its people, seems to be accurate. Or at the very least the orders bore one of his seals.”

If rumors are to be believed, Kuei is even more interested in animals than he is in women, she thought, deciding to keep that particular tidbit to herself.

“…Maybe you could bring some rare animals from the Fire Nation to the peace negotiations,” the child suggested in an optimistic tone. “If he likes them that much, I could tell him that you might have creatures he’s never seen before as another incentive to come out and meet you.”

Ursa raised an eyebrow. “You want me to… give him new pets?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” the young Avatar said. “Yue told me you gave her tribe and family gifts the first time you met her. You gave me a pet too. You must know how good they are for breaking the ice.” He set his reading material down and gave her a sly look. “I mean, aren’t you the one who stole Nushi from the palace aviaries to be your pet?”

“I did no such thing,” she insisted, with a slight flush on her face.

“…Sure you didn’t,” he flashed her a knowing grin.

The regent shook her head, and a more serious look reasserted itself. “I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”

“Glad to hear it!” Aang said brightly.

“No,” Ursa declared firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“Mom,” Azula frowned at her. “I don’t think you’re seeing-”

“No,” the older woman repeated.

“You’re not being-”

“No,” said the Fire Lady for the third time.

The princess’s frown deepened. “Why not?”

“Your cousin died in that city, Azula! You think I’m going to let you follow in his footsteps? As an underaged girl, no less?!” she shook her head vehemently. “Neither you nor your brother nor your sister-in-law will set one foot in Ba Sing Se before our armies overrun it. I absolutely forbid it.”

“The Avatar is a child, and a younger one than me, and less trained in diplomacy, but you’re still sending him in there.”

“He can fly, and you can’t – and in any case you are my daughter, and the Fire Nation’s Crown Princess,” she returned her daughter’s frown. “And he is not. Your role, your responsibilities, my responsibilities to you, are all different.”

“Yes, he’s only the reborn spirit of your grandfather, and the future master of all four elements, hardly someone to worry about losing.” Azula’s deep golden eyes bored right into Ursa’s own as she leaned forward over the table. “There’s more to this ‘peace conference’ than just his airbending skills. What did he say to you to bring on this sudden about-face?”

The regent sat there on the sofa for just a moment and held her silence, briefly mulling it over.

It isn’t as though Aang wouldn’t tell her anyway.

“…It was take the chance of losing him this way, or lose him for certain otherwise,” she admitted.

The princess’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. “He threatened to leave if you wouldn’t agree to let him try this.”

“Yes,” her mother nodded. “And you know as well as anyone that nothing short of clapping that boy in irons would keep him in Caldera if he truly wished to be gone.”

“He blackmailed you,” there was a hint of respect in Azula’s tone as she sat back against her sofa, arms crossed. One corner of her mouth rose slightly. “The most powerful ruler in the world got dragged into a hairbrained scheme by a twelve-year-old boy threatening to run away.”

“…Your tongue remains as sharp as ever,” Ursa closed her eyes and sighed wearily.

“But only half as sharp as my mind,” the younger woman boasted. “You did at least get something from him in return, I take it?”

“He proposed that he would accept adoption into our family, assuming you and Zuko agreed to it. It would be a great boon to our empire’s legitimacy overseas, I think.”

“Probably, but…” the girl raised an eyebrow at her mother. “How did he know about that? I doubt he came up with the idea on his own.”

“He overheard you talking with your uncle, apparently.”

“What?” the princess blinked, then made a sour expression. “…The little sneak.”

“He can be a bit wilier than either of us expected,” the Fire Lady gave a faint, self-deprecating smile.

“He’s going to regret that in our next firebending session,” her daughter vowed.

“Don’t put the poor boy through too much. He may soon be your adoptive half-brother.”

“Which seems like another reason that I should go with him,” she tapped two fingers on the point of her chin. “A big sister should be there to keep a young dum-dum out of trouble when he’s set on wandering into the ratviper’s nest.”

The older woman pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again. “The answer is still no, Azula. Bad enough risking one child in this long-shot.”

“Mom, you know why I’m better suited to persuading the Earth King to actually come out, and a better warrior, and even Aang’s firebending tutor. He can still learn more from me on the way, which increases his odds of getting away if things do go wrong.”

“No,” her mother said flatly.

“You’re not being reasonable.”

“No, you aren’t. No one knows that the Avatar has been or will ever be more than our nation’s guest. Everyone knows that you are the Fire Lord’s sister. You’re a far more tempting target for a desperate Earth Kingdom than he is.”

“That’s a manageable risk,” the princess insisted. “Even they wouldn’t dare attack such a prestigious envoy – and if they did…” she formed one hand into a claw, and a star ignited within. “They’d soon regret it. Together, Aang and I would be certain to escape.”

“It’s not worth the risk, and if you don’t stop insisting on such a senseless course of action, I’ll rescind my permission for you to be among the army’s command staff on the day of the comet,” Ursa threatened. “You’ll have to remain behind in the Fire Nation. You won’t get to fire the first shot at the walls.”

“…You wouldn’t even let me symbolically avenge the blood of our family?” Azula hissed in a low tone, the fire clutched in her right hand growing noticeably taller.

“I’m certain Lu Ten wouldn’t be happy to see his baby cousin putting herself in jeopardy of becoming a hostage, or a casualty, right as we stand on the precipice of victory.” There was firm edge to the Fire Lady’s tone. “You will not accompany Aang into Ba Sing Se, and that’s final.”

The young princess gave her mother a sour look, and then crushed the white flame in a clenched fist.

“You want me to what?!” Ty Lee’s grey eyes were wide.

“I want you to travel with Aang across the Earth Kingdom as he delivers my mother’s offer for one last attempt at negotiations to Ba Sing Se,” Azula dutifully repeated herself from across the dressing tent. “And watch his back for him.”

“I… I…” the brown-haired girl stammered nervously. “I’d love to… I’m honored… but…” she swallowed once. “I’m really happy here, Azula. My aura’s never been pinker than it is here.”

“I’m not asking you to leave your life here behind forever, just for a little while. One mission. You’ll still have your job as a circus acrobat when you get back,” the royal girl promised. “You can pick everything up just as if you never left.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if he tries to punish you for agreeing to undertake a vital mission for the future of the Fire Nation, then the Circus Master will answer to his Crown Princess,” she told the other girl matter-of-factly. “I think he’ll see reason.”

Ty Lee winced briefly.

“But… why me?” she asked after a moment. “Why not get someone else to watch out for Aang? From the Fire Army or something?”

“A squad of elite firebenders would be too conspicuous on the journey, and completely counterproductive inside the Earth Kingdom’s capital. Aang’s best chance of success lies in convincing the Earth King that as the Avatar his foremost concern is peace and balance between our nations. Showing up looking like a Fire Nation military attaché would completely spoil the effect, a lone travelling companion, a personal friend too young to even be in the army, wouldn’t.”

“And you really think I’m the best fit for that?”

“The best one I’m aware of. My Mom refuses to let me go with him. And you know why I can’t ask Mai right now.”

The circus girl’s face took on an uncharacteristically downcast aspect, and she nodded slowly.

“But you… you may not have chosen a martial career, Ty Lee, but I’ve seen your skills in action since our school days. You’re easily worth a dozen ordinary soldiers on your own. And you fight in a way that won’t disturb an airbending pacifist. You’re one of the few people I know agile and nimble enough to keep up with him if there’s any need to leave somewhere in a hurry. If there’s any trouble along the way, you’re the perfect backup for him.”

“But I’ve never gone on a journey like that before.”

“You were barely older than he is now when you ran off,” the princess pointed out. “And you made it across the sea, through the colonies, and all the way to Kai’s circus completely on your own. This time you’d have the benefit of the Avatar and a flying bison.”

“I guess if you put it like that, I did sorta do that, didn’t I?” the performer scratched the back of her head with a look of mild embarrassment.

“Not only did you keep yourself safe during your lonesome journey with no help from your family, but you also convinced the circus to hire an underaged girl once you got there,” the dark-haired girl continued. “And since then, you’ve entertained mixed crowds from across the Fire Nation, the colonies, and the Earth Kingdom. You know far more about mingling with the commoners on the continent than most anyone else from Caldera. And I’d wager you haven’t completely forgotten the lessons in protocol you learned as a nobleman’s daughter.”

“I… might be a bit rusty there,” her old friend admitted in a slightly bashful tone. “It’s not the sort of thing you use much when you’re doing balancing acts for a crowd.”

“Even so,” Azula said with a slight grin, “you can probably avoid offending anybody in Ba Sing Se, even while keeping one eye on our airbending friend.”

“Maybe,” the acrobat said with a light shrug.

“And what’s more, Aang likes you,” Ursa’s daughter eyed up her old schoolmate. “He asked me for help in keeping this circus in town longer. And I’ve seen how much of your free time you’ve spent with him since he did. You like him too, don’t you?”

“I mean… sorta, yeah,” the other girl put her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels a little. Eye contact between the two of them was momentarily broken.

“So, you want him to be safe on his trip to the Earth Kingdom’s capital, don’t you?” she prodded. “Don’t want anything untoward happening to him once he gets there?”

“Of course,” she looked back up and nodded.

“Well then, I genuinely think you’re the best person to send on this journey with him. Everything about you seems just the right fit.”

“I get what you’re saying, I just…” the circus girl hesitated, fidgeting a little, with eyes wandering down to her slippers.

“I’m not ordering you to do this as your princess,” Azula said, taking a few steps forward and putting one gentle hand on Ty Lee’s shoulder. “I’m asking you to do this as your friend.” She looked the acrobat directly in her grey eyes. “I just don’t want Aang to have to do this all alone. I want someone at his side that I can trust absolutely.”

Ty Lee’s eyes widened just a fraction. “You really put that much faith in me?”

The Fire Nation’s Crown Princess gave her old friend a warm, soft smile before nodding just once. The other girl’s expression remained hesitant only a few seconds longer, before growing harder, more determined. Slowly, she returned the royal girl’s nod.

“Thank you, Ty Lee,” Azula said.

When the Destiny’s Hand pulled into the Royal Harbor, it was to a considerably more muted reception than a returning Fire Lord might ordinarily expect. The titanic battleship found the berths around it all but empty, the usual masses of dockworkers and sailors and soldiers that swarmed over the piers at all hours of the day conspicuous by their absence. From his position on deck, Zuko could see that even the lengthy processional stretching back to the looming white tower and its double gates had been largely cleared out.

Of course, it was easy to imagine why. Dressed plainly in borrowed sailor’s clothing, his crown vanished into the ruins of his flagship, his left arm still in a sling at the medics’ insistence, the young man hardly cut an appropriately royal figure at the moment. His palanquin having been reduced to cinders along with its bearers in the sloop’s explosion probably did nothing to make him look especially authoritative either.

When the battleship’s prow ramp descended, it was to reveal the site of several other palanquins waiting to receive them. Even as the young king, his wife, and their immediate bodyguards descended towards the stone pier, other figures emerged onto the scene. One in particular pulled ahead of the others, making her brisk way down the pier with arms folded neatly behind her back

“Zuzu,” Azula was there to greet the royal couple from the first moment they set foot on the flagstones. “Do you have any idea what a fright your letter gave Mom? Your very first trip abroad, and you’re almost getting yourself and your wife killed – and with no heirs, no less!” She put one hand on her hip and scrutinized the pair with her deep amber eyes. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

The Fire Lord closed his eyes and sighed. “…It’s good to see you too, Azula.”

“Dum-dum,” the Crown Princess rolled her eyes before stepping forward to receive a one-handed embrace around her neck, which she returned for a few seconds before stepping back.

“It’s nice of you to worry about us,” Yue offered her sister-in-law a small smile.

“Worry implies fear, and fear is the mind killer. I’m never worried.”

“…Is it good or bad that I halfway believe you?” the northerner’s smile became a hint more rueful.

“Yes,” her marital sister returned it briefly, before trading a quick hug with the snow-haired girl.

“Mom!” Zuko stepped past the two young women to smile and wave at the two other figures that were approaching. “Uncle!”

“Zuko,” Ursa’s smile as she came upon her firstborn was warm and pleasant, and she embraced him without hesitation or shame. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you, to Yue, to your crew.” The dark-haired woman pulled her son deep into her chest, patting him comfortingly on the back a few times before loosening her grip just enough to look him in the eye. “But you stepped up. You rose to the occasion like a true Fire Lord should. I couldn’t be prouder of you, Zuko,” his mother assured him. “The entire Fire Nation is proud of you.”

“Mom…” the Fire Lord looked down and away, cheeks reddening just a little.

“Don’t be modest, you deserve it,” the Fire Lady said, leaning in to kiss her son gently on the forehead before releasing him and stepping back to make room for the other new arrival.

“I’m just glad to see that you’ve made it back in one piece,” Azulon’s firstborn said, right before becoming the latest royal to embrace the Fire Nation’s ruler on that dock. “Both of you,” he finished a few moments later.

“Thank you, Iroh,” the moon child smiled and nodded, before stepping forward to receive a hug as well. “We missed you up at the north pole. Your ginseng too.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to make you a pot when we get back to Caldera,” he grinned affably at her.

Yue nodded, returning the smile. “I’d like that, thank you.”

As he watched his mother also step up to give his wife a hug, Zuko’s golden eyes wandered briefly across the scene.

“Is Aang not here today?” the king leaned over and asked his younger sister.

Their great-grandfather’s reincarnation was conspicuous in his absence, if for no other reason than that he would have had by far the easiest time of any of them reaching the docks whenever he felt like it.

“Of course he’s here. He’s just hit his growth spurt while you were away and decided to take up a career as an Imperial Firebender, that’s all.” Azula shook her head. “Really, Zuzu, what does it look like?”

“That wouldn’t happen to be your doing, would it?” Zuko queried with one eyebrow raised. “Your ‘training’ didn’t put him in the infirmary, did it?”

The princess looked at him and raised a thin eyebrow right back. “The first conclusion your mind reaches is my laying out the Avatar?  I’m not sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment.” She pursed her lips momentarily. “But either way, I can’t claim the credit for his absence, I’m afraid.”

“Then why?”

“I think Mom will want to fill you in when we get back home,” she told him. “Some things have happened while you’ve been away.”

Lady Zhian bore a certain resemblance to her late brother. All three of the former Commander Zhao’s older siblings did. In particular she shared her younger sibling’s steel-grey hair and amber eyes, and a certain hardness of feature. The middle-aged woman’s choice of attire – ashen-grey robes accented with deep, dark crimson patterns – complimented her natural countenance quite well.

The disgraced officer’s sister had her hands and knees pressed to the polished black tiles of the throne room floor, and her head raised to look directly ahead. Seated on the Dragon Throne, behind her usual low wall of soft yellow fire, the Fire Lady Dowager looked right back down at her and saw an appropriately unflinching contempt etched deep into the other woman’s face.

“So, you are certain, then?” the regent’s voice rose above the crackling of flames. “Neither you nor your daughters nor your son will accept Zhao’s ashes?”

“On this, my children and I are of one mind,” Zhian affirmed. “We will not profane our family’s hallowed catacombs with such filth.”

“Even though you once called the filth your brother?” Ursa prodded her.

“In his madness and vainglorious ambition, that man killed many soldiers of our nation, and of our allies,” the steel-haired woman recited the official story perfectly. “He performed grave acts of desecration that disrupted our healers and threatened to draw the anger of the great spirits down upon the empire.”

Ursa nodded along encouragingly, pleased to hear her son’s cover story repeated with such vigor. The truth of the north pole must not become general knowledge, for the safety of the empire and quite possibly the world.

“But most unforgivable of all,” Zhian scowled. “My former brother tried to kill the Fire Lord. He betrayed our house’s age-old loyalty, and for that he is no longer one of us.” She looked as though she might have spat if not for her surroundings. “No traitor’s remains will ever be welcome among the tombs of our ancestors, your majesty. I swear it.”

“Your sister and remaining brother have said likewise. Is there no one in your family who will accept the former Commander’s remains?” she asked, as though she did not already know the answer. “Is he to find no resting place among his kin?”

“Let the traitor’s ashes be condemned to the wind, and his spirit wander alone,” Zhao’s older sister dutifully pronounced. “And as for us, let even his name be forgotten.”

“So you have said it,” the Fire Lady declared with more than a little vindictive satisfaction. “And so it shall be.”

The winding road at the root of the mountain was thronged with spectators. Starting from near the base of the switchback path leading up to Caldera City and making its long, ponderous way through Shan Zhi Ghen and the numerous smaller towns and villages separating the capital from the harbor was a parade of unprecedented size. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers dressed in immaculate uniforms of crimson and black, stark skull-white masks polished so thoroughly that they almost seemed to glow, marched to the beat of drums in squares a dozen men wide and twice as deep. It seemed to observers that not a single man among them who was not carrying himself with the well-drilled clockwork precision expected of a soldier of the world’s premier military, their synchronized steps so well coordinated that the hundreds of men composing each block were but the legs of one titanic superorganism.

Nor was the display limited to firebending infantry. Columns of rumbling grey steel tanks were interspersed with the line soldiers, the passing of their spiked wheels and heavy treads enough to cause the flagstones beneath an onlooker’s feet to shudder. Entire formations of cavalry, whether light scouts and skirmishers atop mongoose dragons or heavy shock units riding komodo rhinos, added yet more variation to the mix. Forests of spears walked in tight formation, their bearers so stoney-faced that they may as well have been wearing masks. Nor even was red the only color present. Though considerably fewer in number than their southern counterparts, blocks of masked benders in the blue and white of the Water Tribe were also given the opportunity to march in step and receive the approbation due to conquering heroes.

And receive it they certainly would. The sun shone brightly overhead, the afternoon cloudless and almost unseasonably warm, seeming to some as though Agni himself had taken an interest in the proceedings. And as above, so below, for the Sun Father’s children were out in force to celebrate their army’s departure. Not just villages but entire cities had been all but emptied, their inhabitants spilling out of the edges of their townships and into the surrounding greenery all in an effort to get a better view of the military parade. Parents hoisted excited children onto their shoulders. Smiling women threw flower petals or even entire fire lilies. Bands, from the professional or military all the way down to those of schoolchildren, were omnipresent along the parade route, blaring rousing martial tunes or the national anthem. Cheers and applause were, needless to say, omnipresent.

Everyone everywhere knew that this was it. This was the long-awaited victory that generations of their forefathers had fought and bled in hopes of achieving, a hope passed on to their heirs with their dying breaths. This was the moment that the destiny a hundred years in the making was finally to be realized. This was the cause for which Prince Lu Ten, and all the Fire Nation’s countless martyrs before and since, had laid down his life. It was entirely natural that no one in their right mind wanted to be left out today.       

From atop the white tower overlooking the Royal Plaza, Fire Lady Ursa looked down at the martial display with a serene smile on her face. From her high position, she could see entire parade formations gradually forming up across the vast open space in front of her, blocks of men slowly but inexorably merging into mammoth columns behind tall red and gold – and occasionally blue and white – banners while machines and beasts trundled off on predetermined paths to either side of the plaza. All around the mustering zone were excited crowds of the most privileged of civilians, ranging from scions of the nobility to wealthy industrialists and traders to the elite foreign students of Sozin Academy. Further back, no less than ten full Empire-class battleships waited along the docks with boarding ramps lowered to receive the first to embark. Beyond even them, beyond the white sea wall and its opened gate, stretching far out into sparkling blue expanse of the bay, more than a hundred and fifty Fire Navy ships of various classes waited at anchor in neat, ordered rows, ready to receive soldiers or the vast amount of supplies necessary to sustain them. It was the single greatest concentration of naval might deployed in more than a decade, and it wasn’t even the total strength of their invasion fleet.

With the contagious tang of excitement in her blood and invigorating rays of the warm sun beating down on her skin, the regent found it to be no difficulty at all to stand atop the tower’s speaking platform, her son and daughter-in-law to her right and her daughter to her left, and simply wait. And wait she certainly would have to, for even in a land such as theirs the movement of tens of thousands of men and machines down a miles-long parade route is a ponderous process at the best of times. Square after square of soldiers, whether clad in red or blue, would march in with the accompaniment of a military band, parade around the plaza to let the masses get a good look at them, salute the gathered royalty as they passed the overlooking tower, and only then assume their place in formation behind their assigned banners. It was a long and arduous wait that required standing in place for several hours while the ordinary men far below were given the chance to enjoy their moment of glory, but it was, to her mind, well worth it. On either side of her, her children likewise seemed to be holding their posture well enough, undoubtedly buoyed by their connections to Agni above and their people below. Of their quartet it was only Yue, a faint sheen of sweat gradually becoming visible on her dark skin, that seemed to be suffering any ill effects from the afternoon heat. Fortunately, her son’s wife had had the foresight to wear sun cream and loose, cooling white clothes with simple red accents.

However long the grand parade was, though, its end was still inevitable. Eventually, all of the armored divisions had trundled by, all of the cavalry beasts had ridden through, and all of the honored infantrymen had formed up into their columns. It wasn’t quite appropriate to say that the Royal Plaza fell silent, for even in a land that so prized discipline as the Fire Nation any space packed with north of a hundred thousand people is inevitably going to have some level of background noise, but as the last masked soldier fell into line and the last band’s instruments finally fell silent, a notable hush came over the crowds. All eyes drifted inexorably upwards, towards the white tower at the head of harbor’s processional, with its beautiful hanging banner of imperial red and vivid gold and the small family clustered on its high viewing platform. Ursa, a warm and easy smile still firmly affixed to her face, stepped forward to greet them.

“Children of the Sun,” the Fire Lady Dowager began, the expert acoustics of that place carrying her voice clearly to even the furthest reaches. “Scions of the Moon and Ocean. Welcome. Hold your heads high, for today we are making history!”

A wave of noise spread out through the crowds surrounding the muster at her words, though as far as she could tell the assembled soldiers themselves remained appropriately stoic.

“Today,” she continued, voice as clear and strong as she could make it, “marks the beginning of the end. For a hundred years we have struggled and sacrificed. For a hundred years our heroic sons have fought, have bled, have died to carry Agni’s light to the lands far from our shores. There is no family in the Fire Nation that has not known the pain of loss in this noble endeavor, that has not paid the blood price the task demanded. And yet, through all of it, our flame has not only endured but grown even stronger.  I bid all of you – be proud of those that came before, those that gave their lives for a righteous cause, and know that their spirits are watching over us all even now. Feel their eyes upon you and feel their burning pride in your hearts.”

The sounds of the audience had lowered to the level of a low buzz, thousands of hushed whispers combining into an indecipherable but ever-present background effect, but it was nothing more than an accent to the regent’s voice.

“They know, and you know, that today the final reward of all the toil and struggle is finally in sight. In but a handful of months, a few mere swipes of the pendulum, Sozin’s Comet will return to us, its mighty spirit granting our firebenders the strength of a hundred suns. The Impenetrable City cannot stand, and with its fall the corrupt reign of the Earth Kings will come to its final end, and the war will at last be over!”

There was a massive upsurge in sounds as men and women all across the plaza roared their approval to the heavens. Cheers, applause, even wild celebratory bursts of flame into the air, the combined weight of it all was enough to cause the stone beneath her feet to vibrate just a little. Even well-disciplined men of the army broke formation a little in the weight of the excitement, many shaking spears or raising their fists. There were even a handful of northern war chants mixed in with it all.

“Yes,” Ursa continued after giving the masses a long while to get it out of their system, even while an odd mechanical buzzing became distantly audible from somewhere behind her. “The heavens themselves are on our side, and our victory is inevitable! The corrupt, the indolent, the tyrannical regime that has cowered behind its walls for a century while sacrificing the people it was meant to defend can hide no longer! This army – you, honored warriors – will breach the walls in an unstoppable tide and burn away the rot festering at the heart of that hand as the sun burns away a morning mist! The sacrifices of our people and the pointless suffering of theirs will finally be at an end! Justice will be done, and the Fire Nation’s March of Civilization will at long last find its fulfillment! Ba Sing Se will be ours!”

The cheers rang out once more, still deafening in their intensity, but somewhat overshadowed by the increasing noise of something loud and mechanical coming from behind the white tower, growing more and more distinct with each passing moment.

“But there is yet more good news to be had,” she assured her people. “For it is the nature of our people to blaze ever more brightly with time, to bring yet more of our forefather’s light, more of his divine order, more knowledge and advancement into the world. And now, with thanks to the War Ministry and the many dedicated engineers who have toiled long hours in our foundries and workshops, I can present for the very first time an unprecedented technological marvel! Behold!” The Fire Lady turned halfway around at the waist, gesturing to something behind her with one arm. “While the Earth Kingdom has allowed itself to stagnate and grow rotten, the Fire Nation has conquered the skies!”

Only just above the gold-rimmed red pinnacle of the white plaza tower, arriving right on time, a bronze, horned dragon’s head came fully into the masses’ view. Powerful engines drove it forward, echoing powerfully off the high cliffs to either side, as slowly an impossibly floating titan of grey steel made itself clearly visible to the immense multitudes below. A beige tail fin guiding its direction, a proud red and black Fire Nation emblem clearly visible on either side of its colossal superstructure, it made for a breathtaking sight as it flew low right over the Royal Plaza. Thousands upon thousands of eyes rose to the sky, and with them came a wave of wild cheering, hoots and hollers and thunderous applause even more intense than what had come before.

“The walls of Ba Sing Se are obsolete!” Ursa’s voice carried over even the noise of the airship’s engines and the people’s resounding approval, though it was a close thing for some. “The great city’s fortifications mean nothing to us now!” She was having to shout by this point but considered the strain on her throat to be well worth the effort. “The great spirits of the sun and moon stand behind us! The great comet races to aid our cause! And now, with this new airship and many more like it, our inventors have overcome the enemy’s last remaining defense! Look up and know in your souls that the heavens reward our righteous endeavor!”

The countless thousands of people assembled below, soldiers and civilians alike, cheered. It was an uncontrolled, raucous shout of primal excitement from the usually disciplined people, the great fire of their collective spirits fueled by the righteous certainty that victory was near, that victory was inevitable, that victory was right. That strident cheering, that wild applause continued on as the first of the War Minister Qin’s new airship fleet drifted slowly right over them, over the whole of the parade ground, and finally out over sea.

At a prearranged signal, the ten battleships arrayed on the docks unleashed massive bursts of roaring flames from their primary smokestacks, saluting their newest weapon as it passed directly overhead. Further out to sea, the remaining Fire Navy vessels launched their own blazing flares skywards one row at a time, filling the bright blue sky with scores of fiery yet evanescent red stars. The armored zeppelin continued straight ahead, as if to the cross the sea towards Ba Sing Se at the head of the grand armada, though in actuality it would come about and return to base once out of sight of the parade ground. The first wave of the aerial armada wasn’t to depart for the continent until an entire squadron was fitted and ready for combat, and that would take a little while longer.

“Today we have proven that there is not a mountain that we can’t climb!” The Fire Lady spoke again when the airship had finally passed beyond visual range and the wild noise had subsided to a dull, excited murmur. “That there is not a river we can’t make it over! That there is no tomorrow that we can’t find if we try! None now can doubt our power, our resolve, our right to reorder the world!”

While the throats and arms of the masses had undoubtedly been worn down by the last few minutes, they still managed quite the respectable round of cheering and applause.

“And it is for that reason I will soon depart our beloved islands,” she continued to speak. “To display our strength to the decadent, indolent rulers of that benighted city. To let them see clearly what it is that they will soon face. And, in the name of our benevolence and magnanimity, to give them one final chance to see that there is no hope in opposing the inevitable. One final opportunity, before the comet comes, to put down their arms and bow before the might of the Fire Nation.”

The crowds of people below were already too charged up, too excited for most of them to really register that announcement as anything strange or unusual about that idea. They simply continued applauding the interim ruler that had guided them these last five years as though what she said were perfectly expected.

“Whether the Earth King chooses to see reason or not, the end of this campaign will be the same,” Ursa raised her arms up high. “For nothing can stop us now!”

Far below, people of the Fire Nation roared in triumphant approval.

“And with my absence, governance of our fair homeland will at last return to the rightful heir. The Son of the Sun, the Beloved of the Moon, the Bane of Traitors,” Ursa took several steps back even as her son took the same forward, closing her eyes and bowing her head. “Our Fire Lord, Zuko!”

“Lord of Fire!” a deafening, throaty roar erupted from the tens of thousands of armored soldiers lined up below as her son took center stage. “Lord of the Earth!”

Katara was not happy.

Of course, she rarely was these days, what with being ripped away from her homeland and almost everyone she knew and loved, being forced to dwell in enemy territory as a glorified prisoner, all while bearing the humiliating knowledge that her tribe had been subjugated. But today was especially infuriating. “School” had been cancelled, and the entire campus emptied into reserved spots in the loyal plaza, from which she had been made to watch for hours upon hours as the faceless pawns of the world’s greatest evil marched by in neat, crisp formations with heads held high as though they were anything but the worst sort of ravening marauders. Their unearned pride was grating on a primal level, their soulless grey machines ugly and repulsive, and their endless blaring martial tunes just gave her a headache. Of all the pieces of the appalling spectacle, though, it was still probably the presence of the traitor Water Tribe’s soldiers standing at attention alongside the Fire Nation’s that was the single most galling aspect.

Not that there wasn’t some stiff competition, mind. Being surrounded day in and day out by Earth Kingdom traitors was bad enough on an ordinary day, but today it was especially bad. All around her, her “classmates”, dressed in their fine greens and white and golds, were keeping up expressions ranging from polite interest to out and out enthusiasm where she could barely keep from grinding her teeth. Watching some of these people, all too many of them, outright cheering in concert with the larger ashmaker crowds, applauding the very force being sent to complete the subjugation of their own homeland, was beyond aggravating. From where she stood, she couldn’t see her brother’s reactions. Truthfully, she didn’t want to.

Then the last of the soldiers had formed up, the music at last died down, and the hateful woman started to speak. And if Katara had been irritated to the point of rage before, hearing that creature’s words was enough to make her downright apoplectic. The arrogance of her entitlement, the callous egotism that spared not a thought for the countless victims of her nation’s war machine, the hailing of murderous invaders as heroes and martyrs. She spent the whole of Ursa’s short speech glaring daggers alternatively at the witch herself, her two brats, and the snow-haired whore standing alongside them.

And then the Fire Nation’s latest devilry appeared in the sky, and Hakoda’s daughter found her heart leaping up into her throat.

It was huge. Bigger, bigger by far than any ship ever put to sea by the Southern Water Tribe, and yet by the islanders’ strange science it flew in defiance of everything the southern girl knew about physics. The grey steel armor, clearly visible in the afternoon sun, made it abundantly clear that this flying fortress was well beyond the ability of any weapon made by her tribe to penetrate, even had they the range to so much as touch it. From on high, the nigh-invulnerable beast could rain death upon all that remained of her people at its leisure, while all they could do was scream and run.

She’s going to use these things on Ba Sing Se, Katara thought, taking an unconscious step back with eyes wide with horror and mouth agape. She’s going to burn… thousands of screaming people to death from the sky. Tens of thousands. Mothers and fathers and children.

These wretches, these utter cowards weren’t even going to give the Earth Kingdom’s last bastion, the home of the last free people in the world, the dignity of an honest and fair fight. They were going to call on the evil spirit of some magic comet and combine it with the products of their own hellish industry to rain torrents of fiery death down on a helpless city from a distance that made them impervious to any attempts by its noble defenders to fight back. And on top of it all the harridan on the tower actually had the blasphemous audacity to claim that a being as pure and holy as the moon spirit would ever stand behind these monsters’ rapacious conquest of the world.

But, as Katara discovered to her mounting dread once the behemoth had passed slowly overhead and out of sight, there was still more to come. The Fire Lady was going to lead the campaign herself. That nonsense about accepting a surrender was a transparent pretense. She didn’t need to leave her lair for that, there were plenty of puppets to send in her place. No, the only explanation that made sense was that she wanted to oversee the destruction of the only power in the world that had proven both willing and able to stand up to her nation’s tyranny for the last hundred years, that had broken the Dragon of the West and rightfully sent her hateful nephew back home as an urn full of ashes, personally.

As the foul tyrant boasted from on high, smugly gloating about her own invulnerability, Katara’s mind flashed back to that fateful day, so many years ago. The final Fire Nation raid on their village. The black snow. The fireballs raining down. The vicious-looking man in black and red armor, standing inside their home. Mom’s body, lying sprawled out on the igloo floor. Her beautiful face so scorched and blackened it couldn’t even be recognized as having been human.

That was what this woman was going to do to the largest city in the world.

I won’t look on powerlessly, the southern girl told herself, vision growing blurry as she imagined Tui knew how many little Earth Kingdom girls sobbing over the charred corpses of their mothers, as she had once done. Not again.

But what was she supposed to do? She was one fourteen-year-old girl, with no formal training in any kind of combat. Her entire tribe, once including hundreds of waterbenders, had tried for a hundred years to fight the ashmakers, only to be ground down into a pitiful remnant of their former glory, their entire bending population mercilessly eradicated for their defiance. And that was before the foreign devils had their flying machines.

The Avatar, once the hope she’d carried in her heart, had proven himself useless. He wouldn’t fight the ashmakers and save the world like he was supposed to. He didn’t even seem to be here today to witness the horror that was coming. The coward had abandoned the world, again. There was no help coming from that quarter.

“Lord of Fire!” the fawning of the tyrant’s lackies, reverberating as it did throughout the canyon in which the processional was placed, was earsplitting in its intensity. “Lord of the Earth!”

The crowds around her erupted with yet more of the infernal cheering, exacerbating Katara’s already irritating headache. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, opening them after a few seconds to find that the vile older woman had stepped back a few paces on her balcony, to be replaced front and center by her teenaged son. The young man stood still in the face of the adulation of the audience for a short while before eventually raising his right hand to quell the cacophony. The population proved to be well-heeled, for the voices around her subsided to the levels of dull murmuring at most within seconds of their king’s gesture.

“Soldiers of the Fire Nation,” Zuko began, his voice as clear and strong and easily heard as his mother’s had been. “Soldiers of the Water Tribe. Thanks to your efforts, and the efforts of all those that have gone before, the end of all our struggles, hardships, and sacrifices is finally in sight.”

Wait a minute… he’s a teenager too.

The ashmakers were greedy and grasping, always hungering for more and more and more like the uncontrollable wildfires whose spirit they truly embodied. It was that lust for power and riches and lands that had driven them onto their campaign of world conquest to begin with. And even among themselves, they kept order by means of rigid hierarchies, harsh punishments, and public mutilations in the form of their barbaric Agni Kais.

“Only one obstacle remains on the path to final victory,” the Fire Lord continued from up above. “One last dark cloud to be burned away before the daylight can come.” He raised his voice even louder. “The regime in the heart of Ba Sing Se will submit to imperial justice, or else the city will be taken by storm. One way or another, your arrival will herald the end of this war.”

A mere teenager, one so recently removed from boyhood, could not possibly have truly grasped the reigns of a nation so naturally prone to rapacious power grabs. The fact that one of his own officers had so recently attempted to kill him was proof enough of that. But if he didn’t truly have a firm grip on power himself just yet, but the Fire Nation had not collapsed in on itself…

“You represent the foremost blade of the greatest military power the world has ever seen,” the king told his soldiers. “You sail to war with the best training and the finest weapons and machines ever wrought. You march on the Earth Kingdom’s capital knowing that you fight for your homelands, for your families, for your futures, and for a righteous cause, and that for this the heavens smile on you.”

The southern girl’s blue eyes shifted from the young man giving the speech to the taller woman standing several paces behind him, hands folded across each other in front of her stomach, and then narrowed. She couldn’t make out the expression on the Fire Lady’s face, but she felt entirely sure that it was some manner of smile.

“So go, carrying the blessings of the sun with you,” the dark-haired young man pronounced, making some sort of one-handed gesture accompanied with a flash of yellow fire. “Go, with the moon watching over you. Go, with the comet coming to grant us power beyond our enemies’ reckoning. Go, with the eyes of the empire and of your ancestors upon you.” The Fire Lord paused for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as a pregnant silence fell over the Royal Plaza. “Go!” Zuko commanded, gesturing imperiously with his suddenly outstretched right arm. “And return as conquerors! Go! And bring home victory!”

“Lord of Fire!” the vast army assembled in the plaza chanted once again. “Lord of the Earth!”

I won’t be like the Avatar, Katara thought, as her fists slowly clenched. I won’t ever turn my back on people who need me.