Notes: Part of an unfinished drabble meme I've had sitting around for a few months now. Figured I might as well post them. :)

::Ghosts of the Past::

Light music threads through the soft purr of low conversation, and Azula moves through the sea of nobles and generals and foreign dignitaries on her brother's arm. She doesn't care much for parties, and less for people, but she never says no. Because if she says no her brother will ask why, and that's a question she doesn't want to answer.

Too many people, indistinguishable faces, and it conjures shades and shadows of things she doesn't want to remember. It creeps up on her in unexpected ways, turns her, changes her, demons made manifest with claws and teeth and as much as it hurts her, it hurts Zuko more. All she can think is I've hurt him enough even though she isn't sure how.

Azula knows there was something Before.

She also knows it's best that she doesn't think on it too hard.

Her brother is pulled away like he always is, and Azula moves towards the edge of the crowd, ignoring faces and expressions that say more than she can understand. She knows if she looks, the demons will wake.

So she doesn't.

A flash of blue catches her eye in the sea of red, and Azula edges closer, curious. It must be the new Water Tribe ambassador, she realizes, although she's never met him before. He catches her looking and blinks like he's surprised, before flashing her a wide grin.

Azula can't remember the last time someone besides her brother smiled at her, and she decides the man is handsome, in a barbaric sort of way. He looks almost, almost, but it slips through her mind like water, too intangible to hold. She approaches him, because she's curious about this Water Tribe who looks so out of place.

Familiar.

The word snaps into place, and Azula catches it, pondering. She's never met anyone from the Water Tribe before, but the man looks almost familiar.

"Have we met?" she asks bluntly, once she's close enough.

The emotions that flicker across his face are impossible to read, but in the end he looks almost sad. "No, I don't think so," he replies. Why sad, she wonders, it makes no sense but before she can form the question the look is gone, the grin is back, and he's holding out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

No one has ever asked her to dance, not even her brother, and she stares at the offered hand like it's something dangerous. "I don't know how." She thinks she might have learned, once. But that was Before.

His smile softens, just a touch, and he takes her hand just like that. Like she isn't a princess, like he has the right, and she doesn't really mind this gross breach of etiquette because no one ever wants to touch her. His palm is rough and warm, and he tugs Azula towards the dance floor. "Don't worry, it's easy."

She isn't sure she believes him, pursing her lips as he places one of her hands on his shoulder and rests one of his own on her waist. He moves smoothly, his motions easy enough to follow and Azula thinks new or not, he's been to a lot of these functions because this isn't a Water Tribe dance, but he moves like he's been doing it his whole life, anyway.

It's nice, she decides as she matches his movements and looks up into blue eyes. He's warm and sure and he smiles at her like no one else will and he doesn't handle her like she's made of glass.

He twirls her suddenly, and Azula clutches at his hand and laughs when he draws her back in. He grins that grin and she thinks that maybe these parties would be far more tolerable if he was always there. "Are you sure we haven't met?" she asks again, because she can't shake the feeling.

His smile falters, and he pulls her closer so she can't see his face and doesn't stop dancing. "I'm sure."

Azula gets the feeling that he's lying, but here in the circle of his arms her demons feel very, very far away, and she decides she didn't mind.