Title: "Girl Problems 2: Return of Girl Problems"
Author: Moor
Genre: General/Humour/Parody
Rating: uh… let's say T-M, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I make no claim to "Avatar".
AN: In this chapter, we find out exactly what happened to make Azula hate the A-Team (yay for flashbacks!), and finally check in on the Aang Gang. (You didn't think I'd leave them out of the fun, did you?)
AZULA'S QUARTERS, D.C.T.
Azula looked up from her desk of plans to see Mai propping herself up in the doorway.
"I think there's something going on up on deck. You may need to check it out," drawled the maussade young woman, examining a lock of hair for split ends.
Azula was about to snap that the captain and first mate were specifically designated and paid to handle the situation, until Ty Lee sang, "we're having our very first mutiny! I think the captain's leading the charge…" she trailed off, a finger pensively at her chin. She wondered briefly whether she'd lost her chance at finding a juggler…
Azula was already racing down the hallway towards the scene; the air hissing and spitting from the heat radiating off the princess.
Ty Lee and Mai looked at each other. "I guess we better, huh?" sighed Ty Lee, shoulders slumping slightly before she rebounded.
"Yeah, sure," Mai lazily pulled out some paper and a brush & ink from her robes. Leaning against a nearby pipe, Mai read aloud as she wrote.
"Dear Fire Lord Ozai,
"As requested, we are completing the first Incident Report of the mission. Please find enclosed. Others will follow as necessary. Please confirm receipt and advise.
"Sincerely, your devoted subjects,
"Ladies Ty Lee and Mai"
"Why 'first incident'?" asked Ty Lee curiously, then paused at Mai's look and nodded. "Good thinking, planning ahead…"
Mai took out an Incident Report Form from a fold in her robes and continued.
"Date?" started Mai, emotionless. (scribble scribble)
"Location?" She looked at her compatriot.
"Debilitating Crimson Tide, still in port at the Fire Nation Royal Dockyard," supplied Ty Lee. (scribble scribble scribble)
"Involving?"
"Entire Crew." (check)
"Damage?"
"…doorways, mostly from people rushing out. Some stress cracks in the walls from the force of their exodus, though, from what I saw," added the gymnast. (check check)
"Casualties: Heavy or light? Conservative or generous estimate? Friendly forces or enemies?"
Mai glanced at Ty Lee. "Generous. Fire Nation. And we should round up." (check check, scribble scribble)
"Cause?" droned Mai.
"Mutiny."
"… not on here." Mai's brow furrowed slightly.
"How about 'Widespread cowardice and dishonourable conduct'?" suggested her friend from a casual headstand-position.
"Only under 'Enemy Actions', not Fire Nation causes," replied the darker-haired girl.
"Hmmm… how about 'Azula'?"
"Nope, not one here either—oh, wait, no. There it is." (check)
" 'Any further notes of interest' ?" Mai paused and looked at Ty Lee. "What do you think?"
"Oh! I think they did a great job stream-lining the form! It's all check-boxes now instead of paragraph answers! They're so much faster to fill out!" exalted the bendy one.
Mai, expressionless, counted to ten on the inside and prayed she would someday be spared the trials and tribulations of the duties of an Azulan Hench Wench.
She reviewed the document carefully before passing it to Ty Lee to co-sign. Ty Lee, still upside down, her feet holding the document in front of her eyes, did the same, but paused and scratched the back of her head, a little confused at something. Eyebrows furrowed, she looked up at her friend and asked,
"Where's that last check-box? I don't see Azula's name on here."
"If you turn it over, it's continued on the other side," instructed Mai.
The young acrobat reversed the form and read through the list. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline and her eyes grew huge as she found the last category and its subsequent options.
"Found it?" asked the taller girl, arms folded loosely in front of her as she watched her cohort's reaction.
"Yeah. They must have revised this recently," noted Ty Lee, signing the document and returning it to her friend. "We better send this off."
They soon observed their messenger hawk flying back towards the palace, directly to the Fire Lord—
"Well, that wasn't so bad—," started Ty Lee optimistically. "If we're lucky, that'll be the only one we have to fill out while we're—"
A flare of blue lightning interrupted her, shooting across the sky in front of them and zapping their poor bird mid-flight. It dropped like a stone onto the deck of a nearby fishing trawler. Crispy.
"Hey guys, c'mere! Chicken from heaven! It's still hot—it's still good!" called the fisherman to his crew as they celebrated their good fortune.
"—in port," finished the young woman, clearly in shock. Mai's face remained impassive as she pulled more parchment from her robes.
"Dear Fire Lord Ozai," she sighed, restarting her previous letter. "As requested, we are filling out the first of many
The beams creaked and groaned under the stress of the collapsed floors above them as the trio of men descended through the dim ruins. Every step brought fresh clouds of dust and soot puffing from their feet up into the air, cloying at their throats and choking them at a maddening, sluggish pace.
The Fire Lord, followed by the two unwitting Fire Sages, continued deeper into the unnatural catacombs, his stride slow and methodical. He knew the Sages held a strong aversion to the location. He waited calmly for one of the men to crack from the stress, and panic.
Soon you'll tell me all I need to know, he mused as he held his hand aloft to light their way. The two Sages were practically huddled together behind him, trembling harder the further they went. I'll teach you respect, you miserable mystics.
Ozai turned to the right and started down a stairway that led even deeper into the unstable structure—until one of the poor Sages capitulated.
"Your Majesty, I beg of you, no more!" cried the less observant Enlightened One, falling to his knees and prostrating himself on the filthy ground. "We meant no harm, I swear! We only acted in the best intentions of our Lord and Nation!"
The other Sage scowled and held himself rigidly, refusing to cower, while trying to convince himself, Ozai cannot rescind the attack, otherwise every decision he has made with our benediction becomes suspect. He eyed the forthcoming stairway apprehensively.
His back still facing the monks, Ozai smiled maliciously knowing he'd broken the first link in the chain. He lowered his hand slightly and spoke in a soothing voice full of command-or-be-damned.
"My dear Fire Sages; I will ask this once, and I suggest you answer directly: Did you make false predictions for this battle plan to further your own interests? Put Crown Princess Azula, heir to the Fire Nation throne, at risk over some triviality? And finally, hide this fact so that no person outside the Fire Sages' immediate constituency would ever find out?" he paused, daring them to answer. He forced his gaze to burn over the two men before him, praying they understood how dire their predicament truly was.
The men were silent, too stubborn or too terrified to answer.
The fire in his hand flared slightly, and then slowly grew hotter and brighter, incrementally matching his temper's rise. The flame illuminated his features eerily in the decrepit chamber of rubble.
In that split-second flare, though, the more-composed Sage had a flash of memory: he'd been here in the West Wing weeks ago, and had seen a similar flash—but blue. Blue, blue, blue, presenting a face similar to that before him now, but infinitely more terrifying. It all came crashing back: the screams of his comrades and the scent of burning flesh made him want to flee from the man in front of him as fast as his knobby little legs could carry him. But there was only one way out.
Steeling himself, he faced the Fire Lord and nodded, eyes downcast.
"Yes." He swallowed, and replied again with more confidence. "We secretly convened and decided on the date of the battle ourselves. We… chose the date at which we thought Crown Princess Azula would be most powerful, and therefore effective in leading the onslaught. No one outside the Fire Sages is aware of this, my Lord, not even the nuns." He prayed silently, Great Agni forgive the blatant lie; but they did agree to my proposal…even if they were too dull-witted to conjure up any other options.
He bowed his head, trying not to tremble in his deep-tinged flowing robes. "What do you pronounce our punishment to be for our indiscretion, oh Great Leader of our Nation? I fear it will never atone for our misleading you, but I beg of you to make it severe and harsh." He tensed, awaiting the fiery blow that would end his life and send him to the Spirit World. I thank you, exalted Agni, for all the blessing that you have granted me in my life… Fists clenched inside the sleeves he held in front of him, and hearing the muffled sob of his junior, he squeezed his eyes shut—
--and heard… a sigh of relief? And was that quickly followed by a barely-suppressed giggle?
The senior Sage risked a peek at his underling and was just in time to see him slump to the ground unconscious from fear. But that means the sigh and giggle came from… his eyes rested on the imposing figure before him.
Ozai, not grinning, but smug confidence clear across his features, leaned slightly forward towards the still-erect Sage; the light in his eyes wholly unsettled the holy fraud. It brought with it another flood of unpleasant memories from Azula's last visit to this wing.
"So, you Sages are the only ones who know?" the Fire Lord's warm breath swam over him, chilling him to the bone. He felt his head nod shakily on his bony shoulders.
"Well, we'll have to make sure no one else finds out what you know, won't we? To prevent a panic and widespread mistrust in the Sages. I'm sure you understand, don't you?"
Again, his head nodded dumbly. Agni, great spirit of fire, save me and prepare a place for me by your side in the Spirit World…
"We'll have to make you—and all your colleagues—disappear for a while."
The poor Sage swayed on his feet.
This was it, he knew it, his time was up. He looked down at the clumsy man crumpled beside him. No help from that quarter, he realized, semi-hysterical. He fervently renewed his prayers to his god, doubling his efforts when the Fire Lord turned and started walking away from them, back out the way they came.
Am I to kill myself in these circumstances? Wondered the Sage numbly, oblivious to his surroundings now. I can't even remember our Standard Operating Procedure for this—oh no, I truly have fallen from grace if I can't even remember the decorum to employ to dispose of myself honourably in such dishonourable circumstances! Noooooo!!!
He held his head, mentally and emotionally defeated.
Noting his charges weren't following him anymore, the Fire Lord turned back to see they hadn't moved from their spots on the wreckage-strewn floor.
Confused, he called to them, "Well, hurry up! Your transport to the Royal Hot Springs for your 'enriched meditation' sejour will leave soon—you need to be on it with the other Sages so no one finds out about your little trespass. You'll be gone until the war party returns victorious," explained the Fire Lord, as if this was the most natural reasoning in the world.
"You mean you didn't bring us down here to kill us?" asked the whiny voice from the 'unconscious' Sage on the floor.
You mean you've been awake this whole time? The long-bearded holy man struggled to control his surprise and composure at his colleague's sudden aboutface. You left me to hang by myself, you jolly faker! I'll kill you! Blazed the senior Enlightened One in fury, wishing he could strangle his coward of an accomplice.
"No, of course not," soothed the Fire Lord, turning back to leave the room. The Sages took the hint and scurried after him, patting the dirt from their garb and thanking Agni for their preservation. 'Return victorious', he'd said, of course choosing his words carefully.
Of course he wouldn't kill them… yet.
"Prepare your things and be ready to depart within the hour. I'll send word to the other Sages. Speak of this to no one," ordered Ozai icily as they reached the main (secure) area of the palace again.
Too relieved at not facing an immediate fiery end, the Sages giddily rushed back to their chambers to pack their necessities.
The Fire Lord retreated to his private chambers and dispatched some servants and an 'official' notice to the Fire Sages to be ready for their 'enriched meditation and communion with Agni' in order to pray for the battle's success (and their own well-being, if they knew what was good for them). While eliminating the Sages would have assuredly guarded their lapse in judgment, it would also have raised questions about the battle, war, and himself. He could always dispose of them later; with justification should the mission fail. His priority at the moment was to seal the lid tightly to prevent the traitorous information leaking out. He could nail the coffin shut later—with the Sages inside, if he wished.
After all, Azula was out of the country at the moment, so the local death toll was bound to bounce back upon her return anyway, he reasoned optimistically. He smiled to himself. She's always been Daddy's Little Girl…
He considered himself a patient man; ruthless, sadistic and evil, yes—but patient. All great parenting and dictatorship techniques, he believed. After all, hadn't Azula presented him that charming "Daddy of the Year" scroll when she'd been young? True, she'd hidden poison darts in it in an unsuccessful attempt on his life, but he'd always admired her spunk and ambition.
As he stood by the window, gazing over his populace, he set his shoulders, hands clasped behind his back, deep in thought. Soon he'd have another victory in the war, and would prepare the way for the final battle.
He was interrupted by a page delivering an urgent communiqué from Ladies Ty Lee and Mai, delivered via a messenger-bird enveloped in flame-retardant birdie body armour…
ADMIRAL BO'S PRIVATE QUARTERS, ABOARD THE D.C.T.
Bo gently stroked the dove-dragon's soft hide and absently fed it another morsel of food when it nudged his hand. "Don't get greedy, there, eh," he remarked, looking up from the scroll he was examining. "You need to take care. This mission's not even started yet…" He heard a raspy cooing from his other side and felt two pairs of claws tenderly knead his shoulders as the dove-dragon's mate, the raven-dragon, alighted beside his ear. Its tail slid affectionately around his neck and it cocked its head to one side, staring at him meaningfully.
He smirked and petted the raven-dragon briefly before giving it a bit to nibble on, too. "No more begging," he commanded, returning to the scroll. He focused on the topographical map, memorizing its features and imagining the enemy's potential bases, strategies, and offensive-versus-defensive strengths and weaknesses. He was making notes on the parchment when Mo rapped smartly on his door before quickly striding in, mildly startling his pets.
Her concern betrayed her normally-calm state when she softly said, "Bo, we need you on deck; ASAP. Mutiny, and the Princess is already involved." Her hands, still on the doorway, had knuckles glowing nearly white in their tight hold.
He nodded curtly, rising immediately to follow her out. "Stay here," he ordered the dragons as they'd been stretching to take flight and follow their master.
"He'll be back soon, unscathed—I promise," added Mo in reassure to the filial beasts before closing the door and following Bo to the main deck. The animals settled themselves quietly on Bo's desk, guarding his interrupted work and waiting for his return Tucking their tails around themselves, they remained alert but relaxed, and folded their wings close.
MAIN DECK, ABOARD THE D.C.T.
Pandemonium had erupted on deck, and the mass of bodies writhed and jostled each other, trying to get off the floating prison-ship.
"I'm too young to die! Please have mercy!"
"I didn't sign up for this! Let me off now!"
"I request immediate re-assignment. I don't care if it's cleaning the royal komodo-rhino shed, just get me out of here!"
"This is cruel & unusual punishment, not 'active duty'! We're not trained to handle such delicate circumstances! Release us!"
"Dear Agni, whatever ill I committed against you, I beg your forgiveness—and as soon as humanly—or godly—possible!"
A group of soldiers-turned-prisoners were forming a human bridge to the dock, trying to circumvent the gangplank that was blockaded by the boatswain. A solitary, noble guard of legendary bravery, he alone stood against the frothing, rushing mob.
"BOSN—for Agni's sake, step down! We don't want to crush you!" hollered the first mate, barely holding himself back.
The boatswain shook his head defiantly, refusing to tremble, and held his hands before him, staving off the frenetic crew.
"Yield man, yield! You could be killed!" the captain pleaded with the courageous, defiant crewman, grabbing him by his shirtfront and shaking him. The boatswain gingerly removed his superior's hands from his uniform and shook them solemnly instead, dead seriousness shining in his eyes.
"Captain, with all due respect, I know exactly what I'm doing and understand the consequences of my actions. But I am above all loyal to the Fire Nation and it is my duty to serve to the best of my abilities," explained the BOSN compassionately, no grief evident in his clear gaze.
"You're daft and you're about to be bum-rushed," muttered the first mate, desperation and sympathy warring in his features as he prepared to shove the human obstacle from his path to freedom. But he looked up and shook his colleague's hand at the last moment, each of their steely resolves reflecting in their faces. He almost saluted his long-respected—though quite doomed— friend. "You were a good man."
The BOSN nodded once, accepting his hopeless fate with the stiff upper lip of a seasoned seafarer.
Then Azula arrived topside and leapt across the deck, incapacitating crew left and right as she cut a path to the gangplank in order to halt the exodus and regain control of her unruly crew.
In a rush, the boatswain looked back at his superiors and choked out, just before the infuriated Princess reached them, "I know, sirs, and thank you--but I'd rather take my chances with you than her!"
Cognizant of the circumstances, the two superior officers nodded and sympathized with their underling, recognizing the desperation and resignation they'd mistaken earlier for courage.
"Been good knowin' ya, BOSN," stated the captain gravely, also shaking the man's hand one last time.
"An honour to have almost served under you, too, sir," replied the speedbump-to-be.
The captain and first mate, with as much respect as they could muster, grabbed and subsequently heaved the boatswain overboard, clearly making a run for it—the rest of the crew promptly followed suit.
The BOSN splashed into the water with his hand still up in a salute.
The crew kept running, and were nearly successful in reaching the dock—until a flare of blue lightning cut off their path and set the gangplank ablaze, forcing them back and stranding everyone aboard the ship.
A seabird, unfortunately caught in the crossfire, was barbecued on contact by the lightning and dropped unceremoniously to the deck of a passing boat. A rousing cheer went up from the fishermen, but it wasn't enough to drown out the cries from the crew of the Debilitating Crimson Tide, screaming for salvation.
xXxXxXx
"I don't recall issuing any ship-to-shore leave permissions," began Princess Azula, deadly calm as she paced before the would-be deserters. She firmly stood her ground atop the smoking remains of the gangplank and an almost-bored expression graced her flushed but immaculate features. "Explain yourselves—what is the meaning of this display? There are no cowards in the Fire Nation Royal Navy," she paused and nearly smirked, raising a flaming hand. "No live ones, anyway," she clarified.
The crew mumbled amongst themselves and shrank back, unsure.
From the water far below, a man gasped and sputtered, "Help! Someone, help me!" and splashed violently, unable to reach high enough to catch the pier and haul himself up. "Please, I need help!"
He was ignored—the Imperial threat before the crewmen and women more than captivated their attention.
"Now, who's in charge of this…demonstration?" the petite young woman asked with sweet patience, her eyes raking over her subordinates. They shuffled, but held quiet.
"Please, there are tigersharks circling me! And—sweet Spirits, the man-eating razor-back dolphins are here, too! For the love of all that's holy, please get me out of here!" choked the floundering seaman from the depths below.
He yelped and wilder splashing was heard; it was followed shortly by the dolphin's squeaks and clicks of enthusiasm at finding such lively prey.
"Do I truly need to make an example of someone?" Does Azula have to smack a bitch? "How distasteful…" she said. Then smiled smugly. "Who'd like to join our friend overboard?"
"Aaarrghhhhh! They're leaping over me! They have my legs now—please, dear Spirits, if you won't save me then shoot me so I can die quickly, you miserable, wretched sailors, traitors all! I hate you all and curse your ancestors a thousand times, you heinous people! May you and all your families be dragged into the deepest abyss and tormented for all eternity! Great Agni the pain! I can feel them tearing my flesh!" The tirade was replaced by screams of agony and howls of absolute terror.
Azula saw one woman flinch and look down. The princess smiled. "I see we have a volunteer…"
xXxXxXx
Bo burst through the corridor onto the deck just as the BOSN's latest screams rang out. He was immediately assaulted by the sight of dozens of his crewmen in trouble.
It took him all of a split-second to assess the situation and delegate priorities, wordlessly. Bo was that good.
He flashed a quick look at Mo and the Amazonian was already wrapping a line around her middle and diving off the side of the ship, arching masterfully before piercing the surface of the water below in an attempt to save the rapidly-dwindling Fire Navy officer-cum-fishfood. In strong strokes she reached BOSN just before he lost his leg to the water-creatures. Seeing them secured, Bo immediately hauled them back up to the deck to safety.
"Get him to sick bay and see he gets the best care—and someone is to stay with him to provide me with regular reports on his status," Bo's unquestionable tone snapped the crew out of their terrified stupor and his orders were swiftly carried out.
The boatswain was blubbering praise and thanks to his saviours as he was rushed to the medical facilities. The admiral nodded to the man and patted him encouragingly on the shoulder as he was bounced by on the stretcher, but he kept his face free of emotion.
Mo rubbed a hand over a few scratches on her face—mere flesh wounds, she decided, unperturbed by the dolphins' vicious attacks.
"All fair?" asked Bo of his oldest living friend.
"Fair as fire and twice as strong," she retorted, grinning back. Bo gave his fellow admiral a proud thump on the back as she sluiced the water from her hair. She then smiled tightly at him: both knew the rescue had been the easy part of this altercation.
She fell into step just behind her colleague as he moved through the quietly parting crowd of soldiers and sailors, and she could hear every drop of water that fell from her soaked uniform to the metal-plated deck.
The entire ship fell silent as Bo approached the Princess.
He kneeled in front of her, one hand over his heart and his head bowed; subservient. The crew didn't fail to notice the meaning of the gesture, and shifted uncomfortably while they waited for their fate to be pronounced…
"Your Royal Highness, I wish to take full responsibility for this incident," he began, and felt every person behind him stiffen in surprise—and wariness. "I also request permission to address the crew. I believe this misunderstanding arises from some miscommunication about the roles and responsibilities of the commanding officers; specifically the chain of command and supervision of officers and crew on this particular sortie."
Azula had stopped pacing and watched him with level eyes, her dark hair blowing a bit in the early evening breeze. She made a motion for him to continue speaking.
"May I address them, your Highness? I wish to rectify this situation before it leads to further… indiscretions," he recited calmly and confidently, eyes downcast and shoulders straight. He was the picture of the perfect admiral in that moment: deferential to his superior, and yet proud and responsible for his crew's welfare. His hair, flowing down from his partial topknot, blew across his shoulders on the sea breeze and caught the dying light of the setting sun. He was calm, in control of himself, but aware, too. He knew his crew was depending on him—though, quite possibly betting against him, too. Stupid betting pools…
Azula, arms crossed in front of her, glared down at the commander at her feet. His mere presence on deck had quieted the uprising, and she was smart enough to recognize that having him as an ally would be of far greater benefit than otherwise. His effectiveness was also an obstacle to her complete authority over the crew, however.
Now, how could I possibly turn this to my advantage?... Her eyes narrowed to slits as she felt a predatory smile light her face. Yes, that's it!
She crowed smugly to herself as she came to her decision. Nodding at him, she permitted him to rise and face the crew.
"Admiral Bo wishes to address you regarding this matter. He will be taking responsibility for your actions—and thus receiving the punishment each of you would have received for this… indiscretion. Listen carefully—no further 'misunderstandings' will be tolerated," she explained, eyes roving the crew's apprehensive looks.
Bo followed her lead and succinctly explained the mission, and hierarchy of authority to all present. When he finished, he stared at them a moment.
They still looked… uncertain.
"Any questions?" he barked.
Murmurs rippled through the surrounding crowd.
"I repeat, are there any questions?" he asked. "Her Highness has been lenient with you in her willingness to overlook this and dole you no punishment," but just may flog me senseless. "You would do well to show the same respect and illustrate the depth of your understanding to her in her presence. There will be no further 'second chances' on this ship—or mission."
A sailor hesitantly raised her hand.
"Yes?" Bo acknowledged the woman, nodding to her to step forward.
She felt a few pats of support on her back and spoke up. "Sir, just to be clear: You're saying that her Highness is here to supervise the A-Team… and the A-Team is to supervise & direct the crew?"
"Yes."
"Are we to follow your orders or hers, should there be any… miscommunication?"
"You will accomplish your ship's duties as you normally would, under our command and in battle will fight according to the pre-determined roles, under her Majesty."
So the crew reasoned thusly; Azula would protect them from the A-Team; the A-Team would protect them from Azula. But what about—
"And those of us in the land platoons, sir?"
"That will depend on your commanding officer at the time," supplied Azula, stepping forward with arms crossed behind her in a relaxed, authoritative pose. "If you'd like to ask more questions, I can reserve a spot for you on the front lines; I'm sure the earthbenders will have plenty of time to answer you while you're nose to nose with them—or under a rock."
The woman shrank back and shook her head.
There were no more questions.
Having achieved her aim of silencing the dissenters, Azula dismissed the near-mutineers and turned to Bo with a condescending sneer. "My dear Admiral Bo," she drawled and examined the fingernails on her right hand; her other arm still behind her back. "How noble of you to intervene. Do you think your crew is as loyal? Would they do the same for you?"
I'm sure they'd do more, your Heinous. "I believe in my crew, your Highness," he replied instead.
"Mmmm…" She looked over the edge of the ship for a moment at the frenzied sea creatures still circling in the depths below, hoping for another windfall snack. "I believe your punishment is in order; you'll be responsible for Admiral Pho," she said simply.
Bo refused to believe that was his entire sentence; Mo, still patient behind him, held quiet. Azula expounded at Bo's look of suspicion.
"You will ensure he is never in my presence; never addresses me; that I never suffer his attentions. Also," she remained relaxed and nearly aloof as she added, "should you fail to keep your crew within orderly, well-composed behaviours, you will be openly challenging me to Agni Kai—and as I am the sole heir to the Fire Nation throne, I'm sure you realize that should you manage to win, your declaration of treason will condemn your family line, all the way back to your ancestors…"
It was well-known Bo was a family man—and honourable to his core. He would never let his crew down; and he would never back down from a challenge he'd dutifully accepted. He was bound.
"Of course, your Highness Princess Azula," he acknowledged. "Is there anything else?"
Azula thought on it for a second. "Yes—go scrub the rhino pens with your tooth brush." With that, she waved him away. As Bo bowed to leave, she threw back over her shoulder at him one last parting shot, "and don't forget to take Pho."
Bo nodded and, Mo dripping at his side, they strode in to the darkened corridors of the ship.
When she was sure they were well out of earshot of the sadistic princess, Mo stifled a chuckle.
Bo grunted at her sourly. (Now he knew he should have picked up more toothbrushes…) "Hm?"
"I guess she hasn't forgiven us for the marshmallow incident," the sodden woman remarked idly.
Against his will, Bo felt a smirk settle on his face, too.
"Nope, guess not."
The friendly pair snickered at the shared memory as they made their way through the ship to collect Pho—and their poor, requisitioned toothbrushes.
EARTH KINGDOM…SOMEWHERE
The small group of good-guys (and girls!) was gathered loosely in the clearing off a path in the forest, preparing their supper over a fire. Two of them wore hooded cloaks and stood off to the side, while the others, more familiar with each other, met with a visitor who'd approached them while in the nearby village. They'd offered to hear the man out in more private settings, and had returned together to their campsite. Not the smartest move, but the man had been desperate, though harmless—according to Toph, who'd 'searched' him… roughly.
Aang looked at the young messenger sympathetically while Katara read the scroll aloud so Toph and Sokka could catch up on the visitor's tale.
"So you're looking for help with your bender-army?" the older girl asked of their new temporary-mouth-to-feed, passing the scroll to her brother. Figures—we finally make progress on our way to the Fire Nation, and somebody has to come up with another quest for us to accomplish first… This mission's interminable…
"Please, I know you have a very important deadline of your own—"
"Just trying to export to the Fire Nation a twelve-year-old kid powerful enough to take down some evil Fire Lord in a couple of months, no biggie."
Katara glared at Sokka over the man's head as he continued. "And we're quite well trained in arms. But we have no masters to teach us bending and we believe the Fire Nation is planning an all-out attack. If you could spare us even a week, we would be most grateful," his nervous hands fiddled with his worn, wide-brimmed hat and the pitiful state of his robes reflected his desperate status; patched and repatched, riddled with tears, and covered in dirt from his trek to find them.
Sokka recognized the look in his sister's face and groaned internally. This is gonna be that damn coal-barge all over again…
"Wait a minute, how do we know you're not trying to trick us?" asked one of the pair of hooded figures from several meters away, barely visible against the tree line that surrounded the camp's perimeter.
"He isn't lying," retorted Toph. Her expression tightened, however. "But he's holding something back."
Immediately, everyone in the saving-the-world-for-peace group fell into a fighting stance and the messenger put his hands up in a gesture of submission.
"No, wait, please—!"
His protests were cut off as Toph enveloped him in a rock-sided prison. She swept her feet across the ground next, and crouched, flattening her palm to the terra.
"There's another one coming!" she yelled, whirling to face the next approaching trespasser. The group whipped around to follow her lead and took their positions.
A figure burst through the brush surrounding their campsite, gasping and panting, holding his own arms up in the same peacefully intended gesture as his predecessor. "Please, I'm a friend—I didn't want to have to ask such a request as a personal favour. My father, our previous master, is away on a mission and we need your help."
But this new person wasn't a trespasser—or a stranger.
It took a moment to sink in—and then Aang let out a loud "whoop!" and rushed forward to greet the newcomer. The Water Tribe siblings relaxed immediately as they, too, recognized their old friend.
The two hooded figures maintained their distance and suspicions, however--until Katara laughed and rushed forward, throwing her arms around the surprised young man and squeezing him in a welcome embrace.
"Katara!" he cried happily, spinning her around. Toph immediately felt an angry vibe from the tree line, and expanded her senses to stay alert to further interruptions.
"Haru!" exclaimed Katara, hugging her friend again. "It's so good to see you! Come on, you have to meet everyone..."
"Who's the new guy?" asked Toph in exasperation as the pair babbled excitedly, ignoring everyone else. "And why is he giving off such 'pretty' vibes?"
"He's Katara's ex isn't he?" the earthbender couldn't resist the jibe. One of the hooded figures nearby straightened imperceptibly to the normal human eye. She and the older Water Tribe sibling turned away from the babbling greetings, far too mature for such childish displays of open camaraderie.
Sokka stretched a bit as he answered. "No, Haru's no where near good enough for my sister."
The figure relaxed.
"But they were pretty close for a while," he amended upon some reflection.
Toph felt the hooded figure smack his head into the tree behind him in frustration.
"Haru really admired Katara," continued Sokka. "But she decided to help Aang do his Avatar-save-the-world journey-thingy instead of staying with Mr. Pretty over there to help him rebuild his village after she freed his dad from a Fire Nation prison. They're earth benders."
Mr. Hoodie was pretending to ignore the conversation.
"So he owes her, and is back begging for help again?" snarked Toph sardonically, play-bending with some earth beside her.
"Ever the businesswoman, you cut right to the chase, don't you, Toph?"
"Time is money."
The Water Tribe boy thought about the implications of that comment for a moment, and how it could be applied to their current situation.
"We'd never go hungry if she charged people for her services," he joked, thumbing in the general direction he remembered his sister heading off in… oblivious to the fact that she and their guests had approached him from behind and currently stood within several feet of his unprotected spine.
Toph was getting a disturbing vibration off Katara. It sounded like violent-fury-about-to-be-unleashed-on-an-unsuspecting-sibling.
"So she frees earthbenders? Oh yeah, there's so much profit potential there," muttered the blind bender sarcastically—actually pitying Sokka's fate enough to offer him some help at digging himself out of his impending retribution.
Sokka waved her comment off, ever oblivious. "No! She motivates guys—gets them wrapped around her finger and so worked up that they follow her and do whatever she—"
The hooded young man nearby was practically tearing his shaggy hair out now…
"Uh...Sokka, you might wanna rephrase that—" cautioned Toph, but it was too late.
A very insulted, very angry waterbending master had already drafted a formidable water-canon from the nearby stream and taken careful aim.
xXxXxXx
"Nephew," counseled the older gentleman softly to his hooded neighbour.
A hearty dose of Water Tribe style discipline was being meted out on their companions a short distance away.
"Next time, try to mask your interest…" He's so obvious. The former general shrugged his shoulders when his young relation turned to frown at him. "You could at least stop glaring at the pretty one."
Zuko crossed his arms in front of him and refused to shift his gaze.
"You're jea—lous," wheedled Iroh, an amused glint to his features.
"I'm not jealous of him," he ran a hand through his scruffy dark hair, pushing it off his forehead as if he were bored.
"Of something he has," insinuated Iroh again, observing the familiar, easy interactions between Katara and Haru.
"I'm not jealous of some stupid earthbender peasant—" snapped the prince. Mumbling something further under his breath, he stormed off in a huff away from the active campsite.
I mustn't have heard him correctly towards the end as he stormed away. Iroh stared after his nephew a moment, completely confused. He was muttering curses; that must have been it. Iroh started towards the young group, but paused.
But it had sounded an awful lot like "or his hair…" at the end…
The Dragon of the West shook his head a bit as the rest of the group settled around the cooking fire.
That had to be it. Unless he'd misunderstood what Prince Zuko had meant… Yes, that must be the answer. Perhaps his old ears were fine and it was his interpretation he was mistaken about? It must be that Zuko meant he wasn't jealous of the fact that perhaps Katara found Haru's hair attractive; so he therefore wasn't jealous of her attention towards him. That must be it…
For surely Prince Zuko wouldn't be jealous of the earthbender's pretty ponytail for himself… right?
Iroh's eyebrows knit.
Oh, he did not still mourn the loss of that damn topknot, did he...?
Iroh sighed. Stupid Nephew.
Armed with this rather disturbing deduction, the former general resolved to keep an eye on the prince—and any object sharp enough to be employed for hair cutting. During his time at sea with the prince, he'd gotten very good at finding pointy objects—usually wedged in the doors or walls near his head after he'd teased his nephew for something or other… Zuko really needed to learn to let things go, in Iroh's opinion.
xXxXxXx
Not long after, when Sokka was conscious again—though moving slowly and wincing in pain— they packed up their camp and set off for the Rebel Army—or, 'Camp Iwannabeyabendah', as Toph had taken to calling it.
The prodigal earthbender had objected at first, as had Sokka—until Katara had asked if they missed the opportunity to watch (and participate in) earthbending tournaments. The dissenters were quickly converted at the prospect of 'fighting' raw earthbender talent.
"Remember, we're going there to teach them, Toph," Aang's voice held a note of concern. His sifu's unsettling enthusiasm at the opportunity of skull-cracking good times was already fueling Sokka's irritating spectator-fan fire. "Toph, they need to be healthy to improve so they can help us fight the Fire Nation. No offence, guys," he offered his hooded companions. Iroh waved back, unconcerned.
Toph smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"We're gonna be close to the ocean, right?" she said, heaving another blanket roll onto Appa's litter.
"Yeah," replied the monk, remembering how Haru had described the location of the rebels' camp near the shores of the area.
"And Katara's coming, right?"
"Yeah…" (He did not like where this was going…)
"So there's no problem! See, you worry too much, Twinkle Toes. Everything's gonna be just fine…"
"Uh, Toph, I really think—"
"ARGH!!!" screamed Haru, suddenly backing away from the cooking fire he was dowsing. He held his left arm close, obviously having just suffered a burn.
"Haru! Are you ok? Let me see…" Katara already had her waterskin's contents wrapped around her hand as she bent over her friend's wound. "Geez, how did this happen—that fire was nearly out…"
Aang, dread in his core, turned back to look at Toph's relaxed, hopeful expression.
"Seeeee," she said with mock-patience, "Katara'll be there."
Aang grew more panicky at the 'random' flare that had erupted, strategically burning their guest a moment prior. My blind sifu has no respect for fellow human life, he realized. And I think she just spontaneously firebended someone to make an example out of them. Oh sweet baby Spirits on a swizzle stick—
"Toph, did you just—" he began hesitantly.
"I'm not the one getting a very disapproving glare from Uncle Teabag right now," she countered nonchalantly. Sure enough, Iroh was shaking his head in disappointment.
Aang paused, reflecting for a moment… Zuko's sporting a very sullen face, and it looks like his hair's stuck up at the back from a smack upside the head--likely from his chaperone…Could Toph be right?
… before deciding sometimes you had to leave things with the Spirits to balance.
AZULA'S QUARTERS, ABOARD THE D.C.T.
Azula sat uncomfortably at her cabin desk that night reviewing troop formations and progress reports—and ingesting unhealthy volumes of expensive, foreign chocolate.
Picking up the next scroll with sticky fingers, she popped another chocolate into her mouth—and immediately spit it back out into her hand.
Marshmallow.
She sneered at the mess as she wiped it off and threw it in the garbage. Whoever did this…
The taste and sight of the fluffy white foodstuff brought about a flood of unwanted memories for the princess however, and she was forced to revisit, once again, that horrible, horrible event from her childhood…
(10 years earlier…)
The four-or-five year old princess didn't have her friends with her at the summer palace that day—just her older brother, and he was off playing with their cousin and his friends. That was fine with her, as it gave her more opportunity to practice her bending… unsupervised.
Her face studiously blank, she navigated her way through the corridors to the turtle-duck ponds in the garden. It was time for target practice.
Checking around quickly to make sure no one was watching, she raised her arms up and focused on one white shape, floating midway across the pond's surface. It wasn't a turtle-duck—she didn't know what it was, really, and that should have been enough warning for her—but she knew it didn't belong. That was just another way of saying she felt she should remove it. All she had to do was scare it away…
A smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth as she shot off a quick blast—and was surprised when the object ducked, easily avoiding it. Unperturbed, it continued on its merry drift.
Confused, but all the more determined, she moved closer to the edge of the pond and readied for another attempt. Steadying herself again on the mushy bank, she let loose another flare.
Again, the object ducked and effortlessly swerved to safety; it seemed to mock her attempts to eradicate it.
The little princess circled the pond over and over again to find a better angle to attack from, but the white trespasser evaded her time after time. Enraged, Azula finally tore around the pond, screaming at the target to stay put and burn like a good little sacrifice to Agni; her fire spewed off in wild directions as she lost all self-control.
From the overhead canopy of a few nearby trees, Zuko, Lu Ten, Bo, Po, Mo, and Pho muffled their howls of laughter with the sleeves of their training uniforms.
"You gotta show me how that trick works, later," begged Zuko of his older relation, clinging desperately to the tree so his laughter wouldn't shake him loose.
Lu Ten chuckled and passed his younger cousin some more marshmallow snacks. "Father taught me, actually; right after he made me promise I'd never tell anyone else." He winked at his 'little brother' before nodding at his friends. The other youths smiled back—then made four more white beasts surface in front of the young princess's astonished eyes. The six amused tree-huggers observed Azula run a few more laps around the pond before Zuko accidentally snorted too loud—and got his sister's attention.
"Uh-oh," said Lu Ten as the frustrated little demon-girl's uncanny hearing picked up on the spies. "Ready the ammunition—battle stations, troops!" he cried, laughing and no longer bothering to hide their presence.
With a rousing round of 'aye-aye, sir!'s, the group grabbed their bags of marshmallows—and firebended just enough to melt them into one giant white sticky puff.
"The key is in the low heat," explained Lu Ten to Zuko patiently as his sister ran towards them on the ground below. She raised her hands to shoot at them in retaliation. Zuko nodded to his 'big brother', and remembered Lu Ten explaining the flame had to stay low or the entire puff would become a flaming sugar-bomb—as the older boy had learned over a bonfire one night with his usual group of close friends.
Of course, Azula was a princess—and only four or five at this time—she'd never been camping…
"Princess Azula, I don't think you should—" started Pho in caution, but the little girl was too furious to listen.
"I'll teach you to play tricks on a princess!" she shrieked, unleashing all the firebending fury a young child possessed.
… a young firebending prodigy, that is…
(An hour or so later that fateful day)
"So you were bending, unsupervised, in the garden; you shot at your cousin, the Crown Prince and your future Fire Lord, his friends and your brother; you missed and hit a giant marshmallow, which just happened to be sitting in the tree; it turned into a giant napalm bomb, fell on you, made you trip & roll down the hill, through the turtle-duck marsh, and into the pond."
Ursa looked at her 'daughter', unimpressed. At least, she was pretty sure her daughter was under there, somewhere.
"Yes," answered the stinking, smoking, sugar-coated, feather-and-duck-turd rolled mess before her, without hesitation. Said mess refused to give in and scratch the itchy patch of scalp where part of her hair had burned off in the melee—though the orbiting flies were getting quite annoying. "And it was all Zuko and cousin Lu Ten's fault! They were all sitting up in the tree, with their friends, and they were playing tricks on me, making me run all around the pond, and—"
"Azula, that is enough!" commanded the imposing woman, immediately silencing her daughter.
A thawing frozen-frog croaked into the resulting silence, still stuck to Azula's adhesive backside.
Ursa sighed heavily before settling her hands in her lap again. Azula stood tense with anger and humiliation, head bowed slightly in deference to her superior. "Cousin Lu Ten is ten years older than you, and your future leader—" began the woman when she'd regained her composure. "He would not be 'hanging out in a tree' with his friends, making fun of you. Now, your lies are becoming outrageous and disgraceful, young lady. You are to go straight to your room after you've cleaned yourself up. I just don't know what I'm going to tell your father, this time…"
At her dismissal, Azula mucked away bitterly towards her personal sleeping chambers in the residence, ignoring the looks (and stifled chuckles) sent her way by the palace staff.
It was, however, far harder to ignore the croaks of discomfort the frog was making from her rear end every time she took a step.
"Croak."
"Croak."
"Croaaaaaaaak…"
"Shut up!" she snarled, but couldn't even whirl on it to vent her frustration. Even through the heavy coating of goo, she could feel the amphibian was squirming around, trying to get loose.
"Croak."
"Croak-chirp!"
"Croak."
"Croak-chirp-chirp!"
Apparently, and much to Azula's dismay, frog number one had brought a friend.
xXxXxXx
Back in her cabin aboard the Debilitating Crimson Tide, Azula gazed unseeing through the porthole window. Ten years, and she still couldn't eat the damn stuff. Or stand frogs, for that matter. She hated bogs and marshes. If the Avatar or a battle ever led into a swamp, she'd send Mai or Ty Lee.
Speaking of…
Azula glanced around, realizing it was quite late at night and she hadn't seen or heard from her companions since before the scuffle on deck.
The ship was awfully quiet, too, now that she thought about it.
Where was everyone?
IN THE CREW'S MESS HALL, ABOARD THE D.C.T.
It had been an eventful day and night. The bookie had posted a notice on the Betting Board that the evening's incidents would be rolled over into the following day's calendar of events, to allow everyone a full night of sleep.
Except, perhaps, for the bookie herself.
IN MAI AND TY LEE'S CLOSET err…'CABIN', ABOARD THE D.C.T.
"Quit hogging the blankets," groused Mai, tugging the covers over to her side of the bed. She sighed as Ty Lee rolled over and mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep, again pulling the meager sheets with her.
As she stood up, carefully so as not to disturb her somnolent friend, Mai silently cursed Azula's orders to procure 'convenient' sleeping arrangements for them during the voyage. Convenient for Azula maybe, by having the two girls bunk together; but Mai wasn't entirely thrilled with the deal.
A slight rapping at her window drew Mai's attention away from her complaints, however, and she opened the port hole to admit a weary-looking messenger bird. Settling in the animal and taking the note from its leg, she heard Ty Lee stir behind her.
"Whussat?" yawned the sleepy girl, rubbing her eyes as Mai lit a candle to read the missive.
"The latest from Ozai," replied Mai flatly, starting to read aloud. Ty Lee interrupted.
"No, I mean on your face."
"…Beautymudmask," she muttered in an 'oh shut up' tone, "—are you listening?" she asked miserably. Ty Lee nodded a bit and Mai continued, reading aloud.
"Dear Ladies Mai and Ty Lee;
Your prompt delivery of the mission's progress is admirable. Keep up the good work.
Sincerely,
Fire Lord Ozai."
Mai frowned at the measly piece of correspondence.
"That's it?" asked Ty Lee in surprise, sitting up (slumped at attention) by this point. Mai peered closer and shook her head. "No, wait, there's something at the bottom—it looks like he wrote it in a rush. I need more light."
Several lamps later, Mai had a clear view of the imperial chicken scratch.
"P.S.," she read, "I'm joining the Sages on a Spiritual Retreat for a few days—solitary communal time with Agni; good for the battle, you know. Please take care of things in my absence. I'm sure you know best.
Also, kindly continue lacing Azula's tea with Midol—and Valium, if you can manage it. I'm sure the crew will feel far more secure if she's dosed like an elephant seal.
Regards,
Your fearless leader,
Fire Lord Ozai"
Both girls looked over to the two dozen crates of Midol stacked in the corner of their room.
Uttering not a single word, Ty Lee moved to the pile of girl-problem-alleviators and nonchalantly threw a basket of laundry overtop them, successfully dissimulating the stash, while Mai pulled a small scroll, pot of ink, and a brush from the rickety desk and set to taking down their reply…
(TBC)
AN: Many, many thanks to my betas, SolitaryGuard and Kayanora!! Also, a grateful nod to loveroftheflame for her touch of advice on a certain matter of green-eyed importance.
AN: References this chapter: the betting recurring in my stories is sort of inspired by a Gordon Korman book called "No Coins, Please". I read it when I was a kid. His books are wonderful—and far funnier than I could ever draft. Please go enjoy them free, courtesy of your local library. You won't be disappointed, I promise! (Especially if you can find "I Want To Go Home!" or "MacDonald Hall Goes Hollywood".) Also, the chicken flying through the air to the "It's still good!" line is obviously pulled from The Simpsons.
AN: Re-uploaded w/ some edits on June 17/2007.