Archive of Our Own ^beta

Put our people first.

Princess Yue knew many things. She was a smart girl, after all, as was expected of her as the future Chief’s wife.

Never stray from tradition.

Everything in Agna Quel’a was shaped by tradition, from the clothes they wore to the food they ate, the way their men hunted and how their women healed. Tradition was important, because breaking tradition meant risking to break the unity of Agna Quel’a, tentatively formed thousands of years ago and growing stronger with every new generation that honoured those that came before by following their traditions. Princess Yue knew better than most, if not all, other people at the North Pole how much it had taken her ancestors to find enough common ground to collaborate. It had been - still was – drilled into her, by her father, by his most important advisors, by her tutors.

Your duty is to protect our people.

Chief Arnook was a good chief. Maybe not the most notable one; he didn’t have any great battles to his name like the chief before him, who warded off the Fire Nation not once, not twice, but three times. Or innovations, like the chief before that, who gave order for the giant wall to be erected, the one that was their first and most fortified defense against new attacks. No, Chief Arnook’s strength was a quiet, reliable one that his people were all the more grateful for in these troubling times: he was steadfast and predictable and put his people first, always, to a point where every child in the city would probably equate his name with the word safe.

Princess Yue was a smart girl. She could see her father’s reign for what it was, a blessing to their people. She would follow his example and be a calm, collected, reliable wife to whoever he chose as his successor, supporting her future husband the way her mother had supported her father. The way a wife was supposed to quietly strengthen her husband’s back.

And if there were days, sometimes, as a child, where she was aching with an inexplicable longing for something she couldn’t have… well. She knew better than to act on it. And anyway, she was no longer a child. Her sixteenth birthday was drawing closer with giant steps, the day when she would be told the name of her future husband. Her father’s decision had most likely been made already, in accordance with his council, but it was tradition for her to learn his name on the day of her sixteenth birthday.

Princess Yue smiled and nodded and sat with her hands primly folded in her lap when she was shown two variations of the clothes she would wear to her birthday dinner. The seamstress was discussing both of them with her father and two elders, healer women who held much respect when it came to this kind of tradition.

“This one would accent Princess Yue’s beautiful hair, Chief Arnook. It’s a little darker than traditional, but…”

Princess Yue knew what would happen, the moment the seamstress uttered those last words. She sat and smiled and watched how the elders and her father decided against the first set of clothes, settling on the traditional one instead. She sat and smiled and fought to keep her breath even despite the knives digging into her skin from underneath.

With every day, every hour that brought her closer to her birthday, her perfectly fitted clothes seemed to tighten. Making it hard to move, hard to speak, hard to breathe.

Princess Yue stood and followed her father, making sure to thank the seamstress for her efforts and the elders for their time. It was her duty, after all. Her father did not have a wife to smooth over edges, hadn’t had one in years. She was the only one left to fill the empty spot beside him. And really, she couldn’t complain. It was good practice, after all. This way, she would be able to fully focus on supporting her future husband in finding his feet as the Northern Water Tribe’s Chief. Of course, her father would be there as well, but should something happen, it would be up to her to teach and train the future Chief.

Sometimes, when the nights were long and Princess Yue was lying awake with electric eels dancing underneath her skin, demaning that she move and run and scream but she couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling because pacing simply wasn’t done, sometimes she would wonder whether a husband was really… necessary. She knew more about her people than anyone else except maybe Father. Despite his firm belief that women needn’t bother with such things, she’d picked up quite a bit more about leading and ruling than intended, both because that’s what happened since she was constantly at his side, slowly filling the empty spot her mother had left, and, well… Because these things were fascinating. Yue loved figuring out people, picking apart problems in her head and finding solutions to them. Not that she’d ever be able to tell Chief Arnook or his council what to do, Tui and La – she’d be laughed at at best, would embarrass her father gravely at worst. No, Yue had to be smart and wrap her solutions into hints and innocent, wide-eyed questions, gently steering the men to reach the conclusion she wanted them to. Sometimes she wondered whether her mother had done the same, back when she’d still been alive. Had she been the one to help Chief Arnook reach his conclusions about whether or not to keep the trade roots across the tundra open despite the Fire Nation’s steady advances all over the world? Had she been the one who nudged him to relocate the healing huts to their current spot, so they wouldn’t get flooded as easily?

Yes, sometimes Princess Yue wondered how it would feel to have people listen to her ideas when she formed them in her own mouth, instead of the whispered echoes spread by others. But she knew that would never happen. A woman Chief? How ridiculous.

Women didn’t lead. Not in the ways Chief Arnook and his predecessors did. That was as simple and inmovable a truth as that women didn’t hunt, or fight.

Until their fishermen brought home the Avatar – the Avatar!! – and two teenagers from the Southern Water Tribe, and those teenagers started to shake the foundations of her world view.

Princess Yue was informed, after her birthday dinner that had turned into a Welcoming Feast for the Avatar and his companions, that she was to marry a young man called Hahn. She bowed her head in acknowledgement, said the correct, traditional response and accepted the betrothal necklace from the man in front of her. He looked like he was in his mid to late twenties and had a glimmer in his eyes that she didn’t like. Not a mean one, of course. No, her father would never marry her off to someone who wouldn’t treat her right. But Hahn looked at her like some of the council members looked at her from time to time, when they argued over how to best use her as leverage for political gains.

He didn’t look at her like Chief Arnook had looked at her mother.

It’s okay, she tried to reason with herself. You don’t love him, either. This was never meant to be about love, remember? Your parents just got lucky.

Her fingers were itching to tug on her too-tight clothes that seemed to get tighter and tighter as the night wore on. She knew it was imaginery. Her clothes were fine.

But when she looked at the man that would become the next Chief, the man she was supposed to marry, her lungs refused to work.

I can’t breathe.

She watched her father smile at Hahn, putting his arm around the young man’s shoulders and laughing at something he’d said.

He never laughs at my jokes like that.

The restless pain inside her flared, searing and white-hot and nothing like the cool ice beneath her hands. Her hands? She stared at her pale fingers, nearly one in colour with the ice, and wondered when they’d begun to tremble so hard.

Is this my future?

Princess Yue was bred and raised for one purpose, and one only.

Protect our people.

When she’d been a child, she’d naively thought that this meant she would become a warrior. She’d quickly learned how ridiculous that notion was – a warrior! A woman, fighting with bending or weapons! Oh, what a hilarious child.

Yue hadn’t understood, not at first. Their warriors protected the city and their people, did they not? But she was a smart child. She watched and listened and realized, of course, her father protected their people as well. Not quite like the warriors did, because in case of an emergency he wouldn’t be the first to go out and fight, but in the way he planned and led and organized to keep them safe and protected. It was in his gentle yet steady hands, the calm voice that helped him soothe and settle many a dispute between the different tribes, preventing bigger fights and bad blood between them.

Oh, Yue thought, so this is what I am meant to do.

Except, when she uttered those words, they were met with laughter again.

Oh, what a hilarious child.

This time, Yue wasn’t just confused. She was hurt. Yes, she tried her best to understand when Father sat down and explained to her that her role would be supporting the future Chief, not being him. Because the Chief would always be a man, and she wasn’t. She was Princess Yue, Princess, not Prince, and she was pretty and perfect and always poised and he was so proud of her, she would make a wonderful bride and protect her people by supporting her husband.

Princess Yue smiled and nodded and said I understand and Thank you for explaining, Father and obediently kissed Chief Arnook’s cheeks when he left, but inside she felt like screaming.

Princesses didn’t scream, so she stuffed a fist into her mouth and desperately tried to keep quiet. When her governess gasped, later, and asked how she’d hurt her hand so badly, Yue lied.

That night was the first time she felt the electric eels underneath her skin. Just tiny shocks and crawling sensations, really. She could ignore it.

She had to ignore it.

Princesses didn’t pace.

The day she discovered her Fate was sometime in her early teens. Princess Yue had long since accepted that she would grow up to be the future Chief’s wife, not the Chief. She laughed along with her governesses and the council members when they brought up that memory, laughed politely and tinkling as was appropriate, never betraying the knife twisting in her gut. A woman as Chief. How ridiculous!

She had been on her way to her rooms, ready to turn in for the night, when she remembered the roll about Earth Kingdom customs her father had promised to get for her. Even as the Chief’s wife, she’d justified it, shouldn’t she know as much as possible about the other nations? In case they ever received visitors, as unlikely as the War made it?

Her hand was raised to knock on her father’s door when she heard his voice. Freezing, thinking he was talking to an advisor or council member, she debated on whether she should wait or just go up when she was pulled out of her thoughts at the sound of her mother’s name.

“…how could I tell her? She’s my daughter!”

It took her several moments to realize her father was talking to her mother’s shrine, desperation and anguish drenching his tone. There was no reason for her to eavesdrop, no reason except the twisting pain in her gut and the eels under her skin and the desperate need to know, just for once in her life, what was spoken about her behind her back. Had they decided on a suitor for her already?

I’m over three years away from marrying age!

Her father wasn’t talking about suitors, though. When she understood, there was a moment where Yue wanted to laugh. Of course he wasn’t. If he’d found a suitor for her already, her father would be ecstatic. Not desperate. To him, that would be a giant step forward to securing their people’s future.

I wish I could feel that way.

Then the meaning of his words got through to her and Princess Yue… gave way to Yue.

She turned and walked away.

Away from her father.

Away from the palace.

Away from her responsibilities.

Down, down, down she went, until the air was warm and soft on her skin and she had to shed her outer layers. Down, down, down until the everpresent blue and white of ice gave way to warm green and brown, until the frantic sizzling under her skin started to quiet down.

Yue sat at the edge of the small pond that housed two koi, had housed them for as long as she could remember, and stared.

Something warm rolled down her cheeks. It took her a while to realize she was crying.

“I don’t want to die.”

The words were sacrilege. Blasphemy. Anything but what was expected of her. Yue knew, she knew that her father hadn’t been mistaken in her fears. She could feel her connection to the moon, just like she had always been able to. Felt it strong and vibrant despite being deep underground, maybe even stronger than outside under the inky black sky.

Yue stared at the white koi in front of her, circling the black one in a neverending dance, until they both blurred into a spinning ornament.

Princesses don’t cry.

But Yue did. She cried, silent tears that ran down her pretty, perfect face, and thought of her father’s dream that she would die to save the Moon spirit.

I don’t want to die.

The Northern Water Tribe was overjoyed, mostly, to find out the Avatar was alive and well and had returned to free them from the Fire Nation’s heavy yoke. Princess Yue sat beside her father, silently relieved that the Avatar’s arrival was taking most of the attention off her while feeling incredibly guilty for it, and tried not to think of what would happen after the dinner, instead focusing on how those three might benefit her people.

Yue looked at the three children sitting at the banquet and wept invisible tears.

They are children. The Avatar is a twelve year old child and we… they… we expect him to save the world.

She didn’t think about how she felt like a child at times herself. How she caught herself wanting to run and shout and sometimes giggle, at a joke or councilmember Nuuk faceplanting into a wall because he’d had a drink or three too many the night before. She didn’t think about any of those because those thoughts led nowhere good, weren’t productive. Did nothing for her people.

My role is to protect my people. In whatever way I can. And since I’m a woman, that means marrying whoever my father picked out for me.

No matter how much the knifes in her stomach twisted at the thought, or how tight her clothes seemed to grow.

I can do this.

It’s the only way to protect my people.

It was foolish to look at the oldest member of the Avatar’s trio and drink in his easy smile and goofy jokes. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

Until the next morning came around and everyone realized that the Avatar’s friend who wanted to learn bending alongside him under Master Pakku wasn’t the boy, wasn’t Sokka, but his little sister. Katara.

Princess Yue tried to subtly divert everyone’s attention when people started laughing at the girl. Her heart broke at the shocked and betrayed look in Katara’s eyes, broke with sympathy and memories. When the girl bowed her head and went towards the healing huts, Yue had to fight with everything she had to stay quiet instead of getting to her feet and scream. It wouldn’t do any good. Speaking up never did, not for a girl. She’d learned that lesson long ago, and Katara had learned it today.

Except Katara, apparently, hadn’t learned her lesson. She showed up again the next day, after Yue’s catastrophical burst of emotion that led her to meet Sokka during the night. And while at first it looked like Katara was going to apologize, the younger girl erupted instead. Yue watched, shocked, how she snapped at Master Pakku. How she taunted him. Her eyes flashed with fury and pride and power and Yue suddenly Knew that she was looking at one of the greatest waterbenders in all of history.

She had a feeling that this knowledge came from the same part that sang inside her every time she looked out over the ocean, or towards the boats that sailed outside. The part inside her that grew louder and stronger as the moon waxed, and quieted down as it waned.

Greatest Waterbender of our time.

Yue pretended not to see the look her father gave her when she mingled with their people, to better watch the proceedings. She sucked in a breath when the girl pulled out a whip and lashed at Master Pakku’s back, and didn’t dare release it when Katara finally got the fight she’d been demanding.

Women don’t fight.

Girls don’t fight.

“Go back to the healing huts, where you belong”, said Master Pakku, and Katara’s snarl mirrored the ugly feeling inside Yue. Only, Katara didn’t hide it inside. She wore it on her face, proudly, and turned Pakku’s own attack against him. Her motions were nothing like the perfection and grace of the Master benders Yue got to see in action every day. They were quick and snappy and a little crude in parts, but they mirrored the spark in Katara’s eyes. She raised a pillar and used it to shoot discs at Pakku, something Yue had never seen before. She got thrown to the ground, shot down by a Master bender who’d been doing this for over six decades, and instead of giving up she scrambled to her feet again with a defiant challenge in her eyes.

She had to know that she couldn’t win this fight. Not even the Avatar himself could possibly do that, not as a tiny twelve year old with no training whatsoever. Katara didn’t stand a chance.

She fought anyway.

Yue barely registered the words spoken afterwards. Not beyond the fact that Katara and Sokka’s grandmother had left the North Pole, had left her home, her family, her people to escape an arranged marriage.

Had taken her destiny into her own hands and had won.

Yue felt the spark of hope inside her, felt it grow and swell and threaten to tide over until there were tears gathering in her eyes and she had to leave, had to run, hide, leave to avoid breaking down in front of everyone.

Women don’t fight.

Women don’t lead.

Your role is to protect our people.

A woman’s place is behind a man. Supporting, caring, loving.

A woman, fighting? Leading? Oh, what a hilarious child!

Yue stared at the white and the black koi circling each other.

Katara fights.

Well enough to get in a few hits against Pakku, a Master bender.

She didn’t even have proper training.

Maybe Katara was just an exception. Maybe. But even if she was… why can’t I be an exception, too?

The two koi in front of her kept circling, oblivious to Yue’s inner turmoil. Just like the world would keep turning, no matter what she did.

The thought was calming. Yue sat and stared and felt her quick breathing slow down until she felt composed enough to leave.

She didn’t mean to bump into Sokka again. She didn’t mean to make things complicated, knowing deep down that even if he reciprocated her feelings, he wouldn’t be able to save her from marrying Kahn.

The fact that he looked at her like her father used to look at her mother changed nothing. Nothing at all.

The knives inside her twisted and churned and when she stumbled off the stairs that led to that Tui-forsaken bridge, she actually touched her middle to check for wounds. There were none.

So why did it hurt so much?

And why did the pain grow worse, the more time she spent with Sokka? She tried to cut the tie, tried to cut her own feelings by asking a question she already knew the answer to. “Do you think women can fight?”

Only he didn’t laugh at her. Didn’t make fun of the idea, but snorted instead and rolled his eyes. “Uh, have you met my sister?”

Fair point.

He rubbed his neck and grimaced, suddenly a lot quieter. “I mean… There’s also that village of super crazy warrior women we met on the way here. It was Avatar Kyoshi’s home, you know, ages ago. I definitely didn’t make fun of them because they were girls. And, uh, they definitely didn’t bust my ass for it! We got along great! It was awesome! I think they were really impressed by me!”

Yue giggled. The twisted knives were better and worse at the same time, like so often around Sokka. Better, because she could laugh and giggle without worrying about being a bad princess. Because she could relax, if only for a moment, and forget about everything else.

Worse, because every moment of lightness made the heavy weight on her shoulders feel even heavier as soon as it was over.

“Do you… I mean, I could teach you? If you’d like?”

Suffice to say, Yue’s plan to create more distance between them backfired spectacularly. On the other hand, Sokka did teach her how to wield a dagger and even gave her one that she could keep, so… it wasn’t a total loss?

Yue stared at the dagger’s blade when she couldn’t sleep at night, watching the moonlight glinting off the metal. Her fingers curled around the handle, mimicking the way Sokka had shown her, and when the electric eels underneath her skin grew anxious and restless again, she slipped out of her bed.

It’s not pacing, she justified to herself. If anything, this is useful. What if something happens and I need to help protect my people?

Chief Arnook’s voice rumbled through her ear. Your duty is to protect our people. That’s why you’ll marry Kahn.

She exhaled slowly. I want to protect my people.

More than by just sitting around with a smile.

She slashed the air, surprised to find herself wobbling much less than only a few hours prior when she’d practiced with Sokka.

Oh. My clothes.

Her nightgown was a lot lighter than her daytime robes.

Yue adjusted her stance and tried again. And again.

The moon grew bright and brighter outside her bedroom while Yue wielded her blade, too focused on getting it right to notice that she was sticking out her tongue – a habit that had been groomed out of her years ago. She didn’t see the light in her eyes as she finally executed the slashing motion right, and was oblivious to how carefree and young she looked when she danced a little victory dance.

The moon outside shone, and watched, and wondered for the first time.

When the Fire Nation attacked, Yue felt oddly calm. She knew that there were tears gathering in her eyes as she pushed Sokka away, closed herself off from her feelings and those treacherous voices whispering into her mind that she deserved more, deserved a choice, deserved to live. She watched him sign up for the front lines and mourned.

They are children.

She watched the Avatar – he’s so small, he’s just a child, please, why can’t anyone see it? – and Katara stand tall, as tall as children could, and felt something break inside as she led them to her safe space.

“This is the most spiritual place in the entire North Pole.”

And of course, as soon as Aang had managed to sink into the trance that seemed to allow him to travel to the Spirit world, everything went to hell. Yue could only watch, helpless, as Katara defended the Avatar from the Fire Nation boy. There was no time to feel angry that she couldn’t fight good enough to help, nowhere good enough to be anything but a hindrance in this quick, brilliant, brutal duel between Katara and the firebender. She ran, as fast as she could, to get someone who could help, but when she returned with Sokka in tow, they were too late. Her heart broke at the sight of Katara’s face.

She was already half into Appa’s saddle when a sudden thought made her freeze.

If one of those Fire Nation soldiers managed to get into the city…

What if there’s more?

She pulled back. “I can’t go with you. I need to warn the guards.”

Sokka made a move to climb down as well, but she stopped him. “Don’t. You need to find the Avatar and get him back.”

“I can’t leave you!”, he protested. “I promised your father…”

White-hot rage shot through Yue. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware that this wasn’t Sokka’s fault, that he’d reacted remarkably well to her slamming into him and gasping incoherent words, following her without a second of hesitation. It wasn’t his fault that Aang got captured, and it wasn’t his fault that her father had given him orders to protect her. Any other time, she might have felt grateful.

But the electric eels were back under her skin, buzzing worse than ever to the point where she struggled to understand the words spoken around her, and she knew danger was coming.

“Go”, she snapped. “Find the Avatar. Bring him back. We do not stand a chance without him”, because they didn’t, not against the armada she’d seen lying in wait, no matter how optimistic her father had seemed, “and if that boy has already taken him to his accomplices, Katara will need some backup.”

The girl looked at her from huge, frightened eyes. Yue’s heart bled at sending a child – two children, because Sokka’s fifteen or sixteen were nowhere near adulthood – on a suicide mission, but she knew it had to be.

She stepped away from the Avatar’s Sky bison and pointed at the sky. “Go!”

Her plan had been to warn her father or at least one of the councilmen in person, but the restless panic under her skin drew her back to the grove. So instead of heading to the palace, she flagged down one of the warriors running past her and sent him up with the message instead – that one of the Fire Nation soldiers had managed to sneak into the city, and there might be more.

It was only then, when the warrior looked at her like she might be crazy, that she realized how much she’d gotten used to Sokka just listening to her when she said something.

Yue felt anger-sadness-fury-tiredtiredtired. She drew herself up to her full height and tried to envision Katara, fighting Pakku and destroying all of the apprentices and defending Aang from the Fire Nation soldier.

“You will listen to me, and you will listen closely.” Her voice rang out louder than expected. There was a hint of power to it that froze the man to the spot, shocked into silence.

“This is not a game. The outcome of the battle might be dependent on this information. So you will do as I say and deliver my message, do you understand?”

The man bowed, deeper than they usually did. As deep as they did to her father. “Yes, Princess Yue.”

Yue wordlessly pointed into the direction of the palace. He took off.

Please, Tui and La, let him deliver the message quickly.

And let Father believe my words.

Just this once.

Her skin was still buzzing, but it was less than before. She hurried to get back into the grove nonetheless, only calming down once she set eyes on two koi swimming in circles. “You’re still here”, she whispered. Sinking to her knees, she stared at the soft ripples in the water. “Thank the spirits, you’re still here.”

There was no rhyme or reason to her relief. The koi were just symbols, of course, but they were important. The same way tradition was so important to peace among their tribes.

Yue sat and watched the two koi swim in circles, all through the night and into the morning. She watched them as, somewhere far above, the sun rose and attacks started again. She watched them, fixed in trance, as General Zhao’s attack crashed into Agna Qel’a with terrifying force, smashing red wounds into blue ice. She watched them circle, round and round and round, as her people fought for their lives and their city.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Yue wondered if she could save lives if she went outside now. The thought hurt, worse than anything she’d ever felt. Because she stayed, silent and transfixed, Knowing that her time was yet to come.

She remembered her father’s words, not meant for her ears, and his fears. She remembered her own fear, panic even, at the thought of dying. Remembered the wild, desperate spark of hope that burned brighter everytime she was around Sokka or Katara.

I don’t want to die.

The koi swam round and round, round and round.

But I will, if it means I get to protect my people.

Outside, the sun set. Giving way to the moon, the full moon that meant her people’s powers were at their strongest. Yue sat and stared and prayed. For Katara and Sokka. For Aang. For her father, and Yakoda, and all her people. She prayed and wished and prayed it would be enough.

Until the moment she had dreaded, the moment she’d fervently prayed wouldn’t happen, came and she heard voices outside her sanctuary.

Unfamiliar voices.

Princess Yue was a smart girl. Her tutors made sure to tell her so, even though sometimes she’d have funny ideas. She was smart enough to realize those ideas weren’t feasible, that only children could dream up ridiculous notions such as women fighting or even becoming Chief. Princess Yue was smart, and realistic, and honorable, and dutiful.

Princess Yue also knew that her father expected her to die long before she reached adulthood. Knew that the spirits had warned him in a dream. She knew that she was only alive because the Moon spirit, Tui, had given her a bit of her own life, and since she was smart she had long since figured out that the two were connected. She’d been raised on stories about spirits and fairness and trades, after all.

Princess Yue stayed at the pond and prayed and wished, but she was smart enough to know that when it came down to it, she wouldn’t be much good in terms of protection. If someone wanted to harm the spirits by destroying this place, she wouldn’t stand much of a chance in stopping them.

Women weren’t meant to fight. As much as she wished she could laugh at the notion, much like Katara had, Yue did not have the same experience as the younger girl who had travelled across the world with nothing but her friends and a Sky bison. The few tricks that Sokka had taught her wouldn’t do much against Fire Nation soldiers, except maybe make them laugh.

I’m good at that. Making people laugh at my expenses.

So Yue fell back on what she knew. She left the small grove once, just once, and not for very long. When she settled back down on her spot, she carefully released her catch into the pond before she leaned back to watch and pray and wish.

Before her, two koi were circling each other.

Around them, a group of eel were cautiously exploring their new habitat. They never got close to the koi, not during the day when the Fire Nation advanced, nor at nightfall, when the rising of the full moon turned the tide, quite literally, and the waterbenders started pushing back.

Princess Yue’s heartbeat stopped at the sound of unfamiliar voices outside the round door that led to her grove – the grove, since when did she consider it hers? – but she couldn’t afford hesitation, because the light wooden staff she had jammed the door with wouldn’t hold those people off for long. Not if they really were Fire Nation.

Yue grabbed the large bag she’d prepared, the one she’d used to bring in the eel with, and bowed low.

“Please apologize my rudeness”, she whispered. Her hands darted out, grabbing the white fish first with the ease that came from living in a city such as Agna Qel’a. Not even the princess got around some basic life skills such as catching fish. Carefully, as reverently as she could with her heart pounding in her ears and the threatening noise of voices rising outside the door, she put the koi into her bag.

“I’m sorry”, she whispered, her heart squeezing painfully at the sight of the black fish circling frantically. Quick as a seal in the water, she grabbed the black koi as well, rising to her feet as soon as she’d zipped the bag.

She might not be able to protect the grove from being destroyed, but she could save its living inhabitants.

Splintering wood made her flinch and duck into the small bamboo forest behind her. Inside the bag, the splashing from the white koi had stopped as soon as the black one joined it in its captivity. Yue ached, hating herself for disturbing their eternal peace, but she didn’t know another way.

Deep in the folds of her clothes, her fingers pushed past tribes of bamboo and seeds of grass until they found the handle of her knife.

I should have asked someone to come down here with me.

But she knew they wouldn’t have listened. Judging by those voices and the way they didn’t even try to be quiet, her father probably hadn’t even listened to her warning about the infiltrator last night. If the warrior had even bothered to tell him in the first place.

Yue’s heart squeezed in anger and hurt and betrayal, even though there was no reason for that.

Why should her father suddenly change everything he’d ever believed in?

With a last, awful splintering sound, the door caved. Yue backed deeper into the bamboo, heart beating furiously inside her chest.

I am going to die.

The dark shadows that descended onto her peaceful haven were Fire Nation, and they didn’t just want to destroy the grove.

They wanted to kill Tui herself.

No.

Please, Spirits, no.

She could barely hear past the drumming in her ears. She watched, eyes wide and terrified to her bones, how the leader – Zhao, his people called him General Zhao, but knowing his name wouldn’t save her, oh Tui and La – stopped in front of her beautiful pond and stared at the circling eels inside. A sinister caricature of her prayers over the last day and a half.

Yue felt sick.

So sick, in fact, that it took her several long moments to understand what Zhao was telling his soldiers.

The fish in this pond are actually Tui and La personified.

They’ve come over and settled in this world millenia ago.

The fish in this pond…

The fish…

She didn’t even flinch at the startled shout that the general gave when he tried to grab one of the “fish” and got shocked instead, too horrified by her realization.

The fish in this pond…

If Zhao’s information was correct…

Outside her hiding place, Zhao was yelling and cursing and brandishing his fire at the pond. The eels – electric eels, Yue had given in to her sudden whim and chosen them instead of the salmon she’d originally looked for – slithered out of reach easily, completely in their element and probably mildly annoyed at best. Yue still ducked deeper, praying that her hood would hide her white hair. She also did her very best to swallow a hysteric laugh, one hand clenched around her knife and the other around the bag that may or may not contain the Ocean and the Moon spirits, Tui and La, what the everloving…???

New voices snapped her out of her panic. Her heartbeat calmed for a moment at seeing Aang, uninjured, with Sokka and Katara at his sides and Appa behind them. It immediately picked up again when Zhao used a bag to successfully grab an eel, Aang paling visibly. His eyes were hanging on the writhing bag as he dropped his staff and a new surge of panic hit Yue – had she gotten it wrong? Oh, Spirits, what if she’d been wrong and had delivered the real Tui into Zhao’s hands somehow??

Then, as if matters weren’t complicated enough already, another Fire Nation soldier showed up. Yue instinctively knew that he wielded power, more power than all of the other firebenders together.

Please, no.

If they burned down the grove, she would get caught and the Spirits – Tui and La, do I really have the MOON and OCEAN spirits in a BAG? – with her. She was too far away for the Avatar and his friends to help her. All she had was Sokka’s dagger – and apparently Tui and La in a bag, oh, I’ll be killed for blasphemy if I survive this night.

Apparently, however, the newcomer didn’t want Zhao to kill Tui. Oh, and apparently the newcomer was called Iroh. Who, considering the uneasy looks that the rest of the Fire Nation soldiers exchanged behind Zhao’s back, might just be the Iroh. General Iroh, next in line for the throne of the Fire Lord, had it not been for his son’s early demise.

Yue distantly realized she wasn’t even shaking anymore. She was too far beyond terrified.

Zhao slowly lowered the bag, releasing the eel in it. He must have been careless, though, because he jerked back with a shout at the same time the water splashed. Yue nearly giggled, drawn too tight with tension to control herself. The giggle died when flames erupted towards the pond, frying the eels inside in a giant display of power.

Aang, Sokka and Katara cried out. General Iroh shouted, equal parts distress and rage, and took out all of the firebenders.

Nearly all of them, Yue corrected herself when she spied Zhao stumbling off to the side, fleeing towards the door. She opened her mouth to warn them – Iroh, Aang, Katara, someone – but snapped it shut when she remembered the heavy weight in her left hand.

I can’t risk it.

Above them, the moon started turning red.

It took Yue entirely too long to understand. Or maybe it was just a moment, but it felt like eternity. When she did make the connection, she jumped to her feet (and nearly faceplanted right back on the ground, because her legs were cramping and half asleep after cowering for eternity) and burst out of the bamboo. General Iroh whirled around to greet her with fists of flame, but a warning cry from behind had him stop. Yue didn’t know if she could trust him. She didn’t know if he had spoken the truth, about not wanting Tui dead, but she knew that her time was up.

If she didn’t release the Spirits right now, they might suffocate despite the water she’d put into the bag.

Spirits probably need more than simple water to survive.

Yue gave the general a wide berth. She dropped down to her knees at the edge of the pond, opening the bag with trembling fingers.

Please, please, please tell me I’m right.

She knew, somehow. Had known from the moment Zhao had said it out loud. But only when the two koi slipped back into their pond and the moon above turned back to white did she exhale the breath she’d been holding.

Tui and La.

Tui and La, I can’t believe this just happened.

On the other side of the pond, Aang made a sound somewhere between a gasp and an eep! “You hid them!”

Someone stepped up behind her. Yue tried to get to her feet, only to find they were shaking too much. A warm, strong hand came to rest on her shoulder and when she turned her head, golden eyes met hers. “You saved the Moon spirit with your quick thinking, young lady.”

Yue hadn’t. She really hadn’t. In fact, she’d very nearly killed the Moon spirit with her own hands, by stuffing Tui into a fucking BAG!

She was too shaken to even realize her slip in language.

“Yue? Are you okay?”

Sokka was suddenly right beside her, eyes wide and worried, and she wanted nothing more than to curl into his arms and hide from the world.

But Zhao was still somewhere in the city. Her city. Amongst her people, many of whom would have little to no chance of matching the crazy firebender. And now that her mind was slowly clearing, the urgent need to stick close, close, closecloseclose receding, she fully took in the sounds of battle outside.

Yue took a deep breath and looked at the two koi circling each other in their pond. As if nothing had happened.

But it did.

And one way or another, Tui had come periliously close to dying. Panic simmered back up, and for a moment, Yue couldn’t breathe.

Tui.

The white koi slowed down.

Time itself seemed to slow down.

Yes, little mortal?

The voice inside her was…

Not mortal.

Yue knew that she should be terrified. Probably was, actually. Yet when she stared at the white koi, all she could feel was worry for her people, worry and anger and the overwhelming, all-consuming need to protect.

Yue felt tears gathering in her eyes.

Please, help. Please. I just… Please let me protect my people.

The voice inside her… grew. Despite not saying a word, Yue could feel it grow and grow and grow until it filled her entire mind.

She had never felt so small.

Are you certain, little mortal? You may not survive it.

Yue thought back to how desperate she’d felt when she’d found out that she’d have to give her life for something. Now, she just felt hollow.

Yes. I am sure.

After all, that had been her purpose all along, hadn’t it? To sacrifice herself for the Moon spirit.

As you wish, little mortal.

There was yelling and surprised screaming around her, but it sounded… distant. Unimportant.

I have to protect my people.

The voice inside her grew into her, or maybe Yue melted into it. When she opened her eyes, shimmering and shifting and full, she saw the grove beneath her. It was tiny, as tiny as the mortals backing away from her feet.

Protect.

Someone was attacking her people. Her beloved people, the children she had given her gifts to so long ago. Or had it been recently?

My people.

She could feel the harsh burns across her beloved’s icy blue skin. La had many forms, could range from sparkling peaceful turquoise to deadly raging blackness, but the only ones of her people she could still feel were the ones who’d chosen to settle along his colder forms.

More streaks of fire burned into his skin. Her people. They were trying to protect, too. Weren’t they? Protect their home. Protect La.

She reached up, up, up. Her power flowed, free and glowing silver, pouring into every available vessel around.

Ah. The avatar.

One of the few souls she’d seen return, time and again. His form now was young, too young to wield her power, but he’d learned nevertheless so she poured.

“Aang!”

The mortals outside were agitated. Her people bowed, bending with respect and gratitude. She washed over them, found others yelling and firing flames at her.

Oh, Agni. Your people never knew when to retreat.

She didn’t command La’s domain. Never had and never would.

But she never had to.

La, she whispered. Help my people. Please.

She held her hands protectively over a group of tiny mortals, shielding them from fiery rain. Her energy was flowing, glowing, pushing and pulling through her children who wielded her power with lifetimes of experience. She’d taught them well, all those times ago.

The ocean responded to her call. He always did. Water surged up, tearing mortals along. Away from her children. Her people. Her home.

My home?

Tui didn’t have a home. Not a physical one. Her home was with La, a neverending dance with her beloved. Her home was everywhere in this world.

My home.

The tiny mortal inside her pushed.

My people.

She… they raised their hand again, turned around protectively to use their giant back to shield the people beneath them.

Mortals.

People.

My people.

My family.

Somewhere beside them, the avatar was using her power to push away the intruders. He was working with someone – one of her people. Her power was wild and creative and fun.

Katara.

The rain of fireballs slowed down and stopped. La was pushing their boats away, annoyed at having his rest disturbed.

They nearly killed you.

The mortal had a soft voice, but there was steel underneath. Tui looked over her children, content that the fighting was over.

Thank you.

Tui… had not expected the mortal to remain.

Mortal souls were not made to resist the power of a Spirit. Especially not one of her age.

But, well, she had touched this one before.

Thank you, Moon spirit. Tui.

She returned to the place La and her had descended to from the Spirit world. The cool water called to her, taking in her power and offering peace.

You are welcome, little mortal.

The mortal – her mortal – collapsed as Tui left her body. Her heart was beating erratically, but… it was still beating.

Tui melted back into the arms of her beloved, taking the form she had chosen millenia ago.

Outside her pond, two tiny mortals rushed to the sides of her mortal. Yue. What a fitting name.

Their victory was hard-won, despite the Spirits’ help, and interwoven with mourning. Too many of their people had been injured. Too many had died. The women in the healing huts wore exhausted shadows under their eyes as they slept only the very least amount that was necessary, taking shifts in caring for the injured. Saving lives.

Yue watched Katara lend a hand, the healing coming to her as effortless as fighting had, and steeled herself. “Chief Arnook.”

Her father looked up, surprised. She never adressed him this formal. “Yue, my child. Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to rest?”

She tugged down his hand when he tried to wave over a gondoliere. “No, I don’t. Please, could I have a moment of your time?”

She’d been trying to gather her courage ever since she’d woken up in one of the healing huts. Yagoda had told her how close she’d gotten to death, not that Yue hadn’t known. She’d tried to raise the topic over dinner, when she had her father to her for a rare half hour, but…

The palace was his domain. She held no power there, never had. She wasn’t Prince, only Princess.

Yue looked out over the busy hubbub of healing huts and took a deep breath. “We need to let the men help with the healing. Some of them might have the gift.”

For healing wasn’t something everyone could do. Yue knew, had sat with Yagoda often enough to understand that sometimes, a woman would be unable to heal despite being a bender.

Another reason why separating fighters and healers like this doesn’t make sense.

Her father looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head before his expression soothed. “Yue, I think you need another session with Yagoda. This…”

Yue raised her hand, and to her utter amazement, he stopped. “No. I do not. Please let me finish.”

Chief Arnook blinked, slowly, and gestured for her to continue.

“There is no more fighting right now. We need more healers, because at the rate our existing healers are going, we risk burning them out. You have seen Katara fight. If she can learn how to do that, shouldn’t our men be able to learn healing?”

She could tell that her father was trying. He was trying to listen, but the moment he understood that she meant to break tradition, it was over. “Yue, love…”

“We also need to protect the grove better. Not… not turning it into a fortress, but three separate groups of Fire Nation soldiers were able to just walk in, one of them able to kidnap the Avatar and another nearly killing the Moon spirit. We don’t know if Zhao is dead, or if any of those other soldiers might tell someone else, or write down what happened and how they got in.”

Her father’s eyebrows pinched together as he clearly started to lose his patience. “Yue, enough.”

Because of course nobody believed what had happened. Not when she told them. And when Aang, Katara and Sokka had stepped in, to confirm her story… well, suddenly everyone remembered that they were all still children.

Oh, what hilarious children! Princess Yue, defeating the Fire Nation army? Oh, no, that was the Avatar. He invoked the Moon spirit and fought valiantly alongside Tui!

Electric eels and twisting knives.

He’ll never listen.

Not as long as she obediently followed the rules.

Yue felt the buzzing underneath her skin calm down as she finally made her decision. She looked straight into Chief Arnook’s eyes, for the first time in a long, long while not breaking contact when politeness turned into rude staring.

“No, it is not.”

When had those wrinkles appeared? Everyone always commented on how she had her mother’s eyes, but really, with the way that the light hit them in this moment, Yue thought she’d inherited her father’s.

Calmly, Yue raised her hands to her throat. The betrothal necklace sat there, heavy and restricting, and her fingers couldn’t make the clasp open.

It wasn’t meant to be taken off by her.

“A good leader listens, Chief Arnook. A good leader watches and learns and tries to prevent history from repeating itself. A good leader questions the rules from time to time, because as our world changes, our rules need to reflect that.”

All those words that had been circling inside her head for years and years and years, half-hidden from everyone including herself because she’d been too scared to consider them for real, too scared to think about what they would mean – they all came out. Pouring from her mouth, from her soul, carrying all the pain and fear and loneliness she’d kept under lock and key for so long.

“We did not win this battle because we followed tradition. We nearly lost this battle, because nobody listened when I sent a warning that Fire Nation managed to infiltrate Agna Quel’a.”

Yue thought of the two sets of clothes that the seamstress had prepared for her and how her father had shot down the darker one, even though the traditional, light colour schemes were usually worn by darkhaired people where they nicely accentuated the contrast.

“Instead of allowing people to choose, or teach every bender at least a basic understanding of both healing and fighting, we cling to traditions that are supposed to be guidelines, not cages.”

Pain shot through her finger when she slipped on the clasp of her betrothal necklace, tearing into her nail. Yue bit her lip and yanked, frustrated, but the necklace didn’t give.

“Yue, you are out of line.”

Yue recoiled from her father’s icy tone. He never spoke so coldly to her – but then again, she never protested like this, did she?

For a long, heavy moment, her fingers stilled. The necklace didn’t give. She couldn’t open the clasp, couldn’t return it in perfect condition.

She would have to beg someone to take it off her. Her father. Kahn.

No.

Yue thought of Katara, blazing with fury and defiance. She thought of Tui, endless power streaming from her body and wading through the fight, turning the tide. She thought of Sokka and his tales of Kyoshi island, where women were warriors and held in high esteem.

Yue’s fingers closed around the ivory handle hidden deep in the folds of her clothes. Sokka’s knife was warm, waiting for her to use it. She hadn’t had a chance to pull it against the Fire Nation, hadn’t had a chance to use it for real thus far.

But maybe its role wasn’t to attack. Maybe she could use it to release.

Arnook’s eyes widened in shock as she pulled the knife and cut through the band of her betrothal necklace in a swift motion. Maybe a little too swift; Yue winced at the sensation of steel pricking her skin but it was just a nick, tiny and barely there… and absolutely not comparable to the sheer relief flooding through her when the band around her neck fell away.

Finally.

She inhaled deeply, greedily, like a lone swimmer breaking the water’s surface after a particularly long dive.

“My duty is to protect our people”, she said softly when her father could only stare at her, eyes wide and visibly torn between shock and confusion. “But there is more than one way to do that. I do not think that this is the best option, and I don’t want to settle on anything less. Our people deserve nothing but the best.”

Yue reached out, offering the betrothal necklace to her father. “I will not marry Kahn. If you care for my opinion… I don’t think that he is the best option for our people, either. He puts himself first, not them.”

The short talk she had had with Sokka after waking up had confirmed her gut feelings. She didn’t think her father would listen to her, though. She’d asked Sokka to repeat Kahn’s words to her father, while warning him that Arnook might take it as an insult. Sokka had quietly promised to try anyway.

Oh, Sokka.

When Arnook made no move to take the necklace, Yue took a step forward and gently pressed it into his hands. “Please give this back to Kahn. I believe you know him better than I do.”

With a last glance at her father, she turned around and left.

Standing up to her father, and by doing so also his council, was no easy feat. Yue cried herself to sleep every single night after waking from her near-coma induced by the Moon spirit herself sharing her body, but she refused to back down. Sharing Tui’s mind had been…

Eye opening.

As was the way her father, his council and Kahn reacted to Yue refusing her marriage. Yue had to remind herself, more often than not, that her father loved her, that he thought he was doing this for her own good. Thought that he was acting in her best interest. Sometimes, it was very hard to remember. The council was better and worse at the same time; better, because she didn’t care for them in the way she cared for Arnook, and worse, because that made it harder to stay patient and dignified. Especially those times that she felt like she was finally making progress with explaining her point of view to her father, only for them to completely erase and even backtrack her advances. Kahn, at last, was… well. Had it not been as terrifying, Yue might have found his reaction amusing. Mostly because he didn’t even bother to talk to her directly, choosing to air his grievances to the council instead.

At least nobody is under any illusions as to who, exactly, has had a say in this matter thus far.

It still hurt, and it scared her. Tradition and following her father’s lead was all she’d ever known. More important, it was the only way she’d ever known to protect her people. Breaking with all of this, standing strong instead of bending like the water around them, was hard. But whenever Yue’s knees weakened, whenever she found herself hesitating or second-guessing, she thought back to those endless, awful moments in her grove, hiding inside the bamboo with the Moon and Ocean spirits in a bag, terrified to be found by the Fire Nation soldiers.

They weren’t right then. My instincts were right, and when I followed them, things turned out well – but only barely, because when I asked for help, they didn’t take me serious.

If I give up now, will I be able to make it on my own the next time? Or will I fail, alone in trying to avoid a catastrophe because nobody listens?

Yue did not like going against her father, and the council, and everything she had ever believed in. It felt awful, and terrifying, and what if she was wrong all along? What if she was tearing her people apart by breaking tradition, breaking their unity? What if she was hurting instead of healing?

She did it anyway. Because Yue had never followed the rules because she wanted to please her father, or even her people. She had never obeyed and bent for the sake of rules themselves.

Princess Yue lived to protect her people. And if she had to walk away to make that happen, she would.

Support, Yue found out, came from the most unexpected of places. There was Yakoda, so happy about the idea of more healer apprentices that a less benevolent soul might have called her greedy; Yakoda who rather bluntly told Yue (and a lot less bluntly Yue’s father, but at least she did tell him) that after Katara’s very public statement and her subsequent prowess in Master Pakku’s classes, several of her healer apprentices wanted to learn fight-bending as well. Her exact words to Yue, indeed, were “they’re chafing at the bit and are ready to start a riot”. Then there was Master Pakku himself, who, albeit a lot more reluctant, carefully brought up the topic of losing Kanna, one of their most talented non-bending healers, to the South for entirely avoidable reasons. He didn’t look at Yue when he talked, but judging by the hint of fear in Chief Arnook’s eyes, her father full well understood the underlying message.

And then there was the Avatar. “The monks used to say, sometimes bones need to be broken to be set correctly.”

He looked at her, this child with too-old eyes and the long-extinct arrow on his head. A living relic. “I think it’s hard to grow in a place that’s scared of change. Maybe they’ll be more open to it if you show them how?”

Katara was a little more… blunt. “You prevented the end of the world or at least the end of all waterbending, and you didn’t even get a single Thanks. I don’t know if they’ve all been dropped on the head as children or if the water here makes them stupid, but those men are all complete…” She showed an impressive knowledge of what Yue assumed to be sailor’s curses. Or maybe their sister tribe at the South Pole just used more colourful language?

“I don’t know how to change their minds”, she confessed after a particular trying debate that ended with her being practically thrown out of the council chambers.

“I thought I was getting somewhere when Father said he’ll find me a tutor to learn self-defense, but those lessons mostly consist of tutor Turak showing me the best hiding spots around the city and telling me all the reasons why women shouldn’t fight.”

Katara glared at the palace, clearly visible in the distance. “Oh, for the love of… Seriously? You know, I really shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yue, why don’t you come with us?”

It was tempting. So, so tempting. But… “My duty will forever be to my people. Not the Avatar. I want to learn, yes, but you will have more important duties than teaching me.”

“Then why don’t you go somewhere where people are willing and able to teach you?” Aang rolled open a map and tapped the paper. “Didn’t Sokka tell you about Kyoshi island already? Here. Every village has a group of warrior women who come together to form the Kyoshi warriors. They are protectors, just like you. Avatar Kyoshi formed them to protect her home. Mostly from invasion, so I’m not sure if they have all the answers you’re looking for, but it might be a good start?”

To say that Chief Arnook was unhappy about Yue’s decision was an understatement. The worst part of it wasn’t even anger, no. Yue thought that she could have handled anger. Instead, her father pleaded with her.

Begged, even.

But Aang, Katara and Sokka were getting ready to leave, and with them a small delegation that would travel to the South Pole. They were Yue’s best – and thus far only – chance at going through with her plan, and despite seemingly everyone’s efforts to convince her otherwise, she remained sure that leaving the North Pole would teach her more about protecting her people.

When her father argued that she was too young, that she should wait a couple of years, Yue nearly stared in open shock.

“I was old enough to get married”, she reminded him gently. “Old enough to stand at the helm of our nation, leading our people beside my husband. Travelling a little and learning under the guide of an ancient order is nowhere near as much responsibility.”

Not to mention the twelve year old Avatar that had been expected to fight a battle for them. Nobody had seemed to care about him being too young. Or Sokka, joining the ranks of what had basically been a suicide mission.

In the end, it was Sokka who dealt the deciding blow.

“Oh, if it’s such a trouble for your people to take Princess Yue on their ship, we can always give her a ride on Appa”, he said, his teeth gritted into what was probably supposed to be a smile.

Yue could have kissed him.

Her father’s face alternated between shock, rage and fear at an unhealthy speed. “Young Sokka…”

Katara elbowed her brother and stepped in front of him, a sweet, syrupy smile on her face. “Oh, but he’s right! There’s enough space for one more, and it’s the least we can do to thank Yue for saving us all down in the grove.”

She beamed at Yue and Yue couldn’t help but smile back, filled with a mixture of utter gratitude and strange kinship as well as a hint of shame.

I did not stand up for her when she faced Master Pakku.

Aang, sweet, precious Aang with his utterly unexpected streak of deviousness, joined his friends by standing on Yue’s other side, effectively including her in their group. “That’s a great idea, guys. Princess Yue, could you be ready to leave by sundown? We really need to get going soon.”

Princess Yue had known how her life would go for as long as she could remember. She would grow up to be the future Chief’s wife, his steadfast backing and most loyal supporter. She would bear his children and raise them to protect their people as well, and if she was very, very lucky, one of them would be Chief after that.

Sitting in Appa’s saddle, squished between Sokka and Katara, Yue looked back over Agna Quel’a and watched it shrink into the distance.

I will come back, she vowed silently. A single tear ran down her cheeks. I will return, and I will be the best protector I possibly can.

She pushed away the memory of her father telling her that she had it wrong, she had never been meant to protect her people. Her purpose was to serve them, and she was doing anything but by being stubborn and rude and trying to break tradition. Women weren’t protectors; where had she gotten that notion from?

I will protect my people, with everything I have.

But if her own people refused to teach her how, she had to learn elsewhere. And maybe it was time for change.

Yue watched as her home disappeared behind the horizon. She quietly wiped away her tears and turned around.

It felt like turning her back on everything she’d ever known.

But when she looked around, from Sokka to Katara to Aang who sat on the Sky bison’s head, she saw… a child whose bald head and blue arrow tattoo marked him as extinct. A child who shouldn’t be alive but who was, heralding change for a world stricken by war for over a century.  A child who had survived horrible, horrible things and still looked around with innocent wonder in his eyes.

Yue saw a young girl who was supposed to stay at home and grow into someone’s wife, someone’s mother, maybe a healer if she was lucky. A girl who had travelled around the globe instead, teaching herself how to bend and fight and now taught the Avatar in turn, having all but mastered something that took others years to learn in mere weeks.

And she saw Sokka. Sokka, who Katara had told her had been just as prejudiced and misogynist (a wonderful word, one Yue coveted since the moment Katara had explained it to her) as Yue’s own people were, back when they’d started their journey. Sokka, who had learned to change his mind, to the point where he was now openly supporting her choice to… choose. For herself. Even if that meant she chose fighting.

Yue looked around and saw hope.