.
.
(tides)
.
.
"You knew. All those years, you knew it was her, and never told me."
"And if I had, what would you have done? Knowing that your father banished you to look for someone he already held?"
.
.
Ty Lee smiles innocently and asks, "Sokka, right?"
It's painfully obvious the only girl his age he's ever spoken to is his sister, because he adopts a painfully low voice and says, "Yeah, I'm kinda ... prince of the Southern Water Tribe."
Katara laughs derisively, but Ty Lee only beams, storybook romances swirling in her eyes.
"Ooh, Azula's royalty too! Maybe you could—"
Azula doesn't even look up from her meditation candles as she cuts her off with a sharp, "No."
If anything, she looks encouraged. Ty Lee turns her eyes back to Sokka, sizing him up. "You're a warrior—want to spar?"
"Real men don't fight girls."
"It'll be like dancing!" she says, a little too eagerly, and punches him in the arm, hard enough to numb it for a week. He recoils with an octave-leaping yelp.
For the barest breath of a moment, the twinkle in her eyes turns to blade-shine.
.
.
Kyoshi Island is the most civilized place they've been so far. It wouldn't last a moment against a real attack, but she admires Suki's killer instinct and effortless control over her Warriors.
Ty Lee looks at the ceremonial robes and face paint with a bit of longing. It's been a while since she last dressed up for a performance. Azula sees no reason they shouldn't stay awhile, and humor her just this once. They might even be able to see Sokka make a fool of himself.
Besides, some star-struck children have agreed to be her makeshift palanquin bearers for the week.
.
.
Azula puts a hand in the ocean and watches the water ripple around her wrist.
Water is like air, but with more calculation, more subtlety, less forgiveness. An element that remembers past insults, and returns them with interest. Constant motion, push and pull, cycle as the tides, the moon, and the coiling dragon.
She listens to the lap of waves along the edge and mimics their waver.
"Oh," Katara says, watching Azula amplify the surf around her. "It took me weeks to learn that."
"You're not a prodigy," she replies matter-of-factly, trying to convince the water to lift up off the sand entirely. "Waterbending is like making people do things they don't want to. You have to listen to them first."
"I ... sure." The peasant arcs a hand and a globe of water bubbles out of the sea. Azula watches from the corner of her eye and tries to replicate her elegant gesture, but her muscles aren't accustomed to flowing. She only manages a lumpier wave.
Katara somehow manages to be spiteful and patronizing in the same breath. "You learn fast. I'm sure you'll be fine." The sphere hovering in midair slowly freezes over, the same veined creep as blue fire overtaking white, and Azula smiles with recognition.
She lets her mind fall into a familiar cold, calculating trance, and reaches for the water along the shore.
.
.
"You stole the waterbending scroll?"
"I didn't steal—I mean, it was high-risk trading!"
"And we need it more. Excellent work. I didn't think you had it in you."
"... That didn't sound like a compliment."
"Does it matter? Let's try these forms."
.
.
A loud splash interrupts her airbending practice, and she turns to glare at the source of the annoyance.
Sokka gestures wildly at a leaping carp, shouting, "The meat is mocking me!"
"It's hard to believe your little village survived so long with a hunter like you," Azula says, smiling sweetly, as though she isn't toying with his insecurities.
Ty Lee, ever well-meaning, darts forward with a palm strike, knocking the fish into the grass with pinpoint accuracy. "That was easy! Here you go!" It's exactly the wrong thing to say; Azula couldn't have done better if she were trying.
(she effortlessly lands the last somersault)
The Tribesman makes an incoherent noise and stalks off.
When he returns, it's with more fish than they can actually eat.
.
.
It doesn't take long for Azula to learn how to manipulate Sokka and Katara, but it almost disappoints her. They impulsively look for things to protect and nurture, and even though Azula is the child of everything they hate, they can't help but try to do the same for her.
It would be useful if she was in the habit of purposefully making herself look weak.
Quietly, she thinks, I already have a mother.
(And I don't need another father.)
Of course, Ty Lee also instinctively knows the best way to be the center of attention in any situation, and starts playing the cute little sister card for all its worth.
.
.
Iroh stares at them with a darkening expression, and Zuko's stomach churns. "I did not oppose my brother's bid for the throne precisely to avoid this kind of fight," he says. The disapproval scorches.
"And that turned out so well," says Mai, deadpan.
Iroh looks away and sighs, "I made a mistake in allowing him to proceed unchallenged. But I am not suited for conspiracy. Nor, I think, are you, Zuko."
"I have to do this, Uncle," he says, closing his eyes. "We can't ... I won't bring civil war to the Fire Nation. This way, no one else needs to get hurt."
Mai only says, "My parents taught me everything they know."
Tired gold eyes regard them over the rim of a teacup for a long moment. "Perhaps you are more suited for this than I thought."
.
.
She expects assassination attempts, but the first attack of the Yu Yan is surprising enough that she only manages to deflect most of the arrows in time.
Azula doesn't dare pull the barbed arrow from her side, not when she's still surrounded by an unknown number of enemies. The air speaks of recent rain.
Hama snarls for long-delayed vengeance.
There's enough moisture in the ground to deflect the next volley of arrows with well-placed shards of ice, and enough light to catch the flicker of movement in a distant tree.
Thunder shakes the forest. An archer falls from his perch as Azula whirls to meet the arrows of his comrades with a gust of air, but gathering the lightning took too long. One drills through her hand, pinning her to the tree behind her with a scream.
Azula gasps and presses her back against the trunk, willing herself to stay alert. She can't deflect another attack singlehandedly, but she'll settle with surviving.
Something like a translucent dragon whirls around her, enclosing her in a shield of ice. Katara's muffled voice says, "Hold on, we'll take care of them."
For a long, tense second, nothing happens.
"Where'd they go?" Sokka shouts.
"Negative jing," Azula says darkly. In her mind, she's already constructing a new airbending technique.
.
.
"This isn't working."
"You can heal?"
"Apparently not. What are you waiting for? Help."
"But I don't know how—"
"If you don't do something, my hand won't work anymore, and I might die, so heal it ... Please."
.
.
In the sand, Mai draws the names of the most powerful families and alliances in Court.
"These are our priorities," she says, circling political rivals.
Iroh says, "You've forgotten the Fire Lady's family," and Zuko chokes on his tea.
.
.
"You don't look anything like the Painted Lady."
The girl in flowing robes almost jumps, but turns away and tries to run. Azula lands in front of her with a spray of air and tugs the veil from her face.
Katara glares back under the stylized red swirls.
Deliberately, Azula says, "You know Ty Lee's been losing sleep about Appa." The expected flicker of guilt is quickly suppressed by righteous anger.
"These people need my help."
"There will always be people who need your help. Most of them aren't important."
"They're starving and sick! How could you be so heartless?"
"I'm just being realistic," she says dismissively. "If we waste any more time in this slum, the Yu Yan will catch up to us. Let's go."
"No!" Katara shouts, eyes blazing like blue fire. "I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me!"
Azula stares for a long moment, and gives up on trying to understand her.
"You were doing it wrong, anyway," she says, turning to the factory upstream. "If you had any sense, you'd stop the sickness at its source."
Before Katara can protest, Azula's already drawn her hands together, lightning raging between them.
.
.
Hama's howls of triumphant laughter echo through the forest.
As Azula busies herself dislodging the arrows in her sleeve, Sokka appears with a cry of, "Hey, what's taking so long - WHAT IS THAT?"
"Fire would have been cleaner, but the trees were too dry," she answers mildly, finally freeing herself.
Sokka mumbles increasingly shrill nonsense while she surveys her work. The Yu Yan prefer to fight from behind fortress walls, and don't react quickly enough to dodge direct attacks. Something to keep in mind.
Azula steps over a shattered bow and retrieves the empty pail. "You fetch water this time," she says, dropping it at his side, and pretends not to be bothered by his flinch.
(monster)
"I did what I had to. Don't tell the others," Azula says, looking away from the expression on his face, and heads back to camp, only to stop dead in her tracks when he answers.
"You did the right thing. It's okay."
.
.
"A company of Yu Yan is coming, General Iroh," the garrison commander says, passing him a scroll. "We're being asked to provide provisions and lodging as they search for you and the prince. I'm afraid they're not taking prisoners this time, sir."
"It seems our time together must be tragically cut short, Commander."
"It's been an honor, sir," he says. He doesn't seem like the type for revolution, but with the same military calm, he adds, "We'll defend the people of Gaipan from both sides until this is over."
"You have my thanks," Iroh says, bowing. "As for the child army outside your walls, treat them with justice and mercy. They do not know what they are doing."
.
.
The Fire Nation archers don't seem to notice their presence, as least until one suddenly looks up. A warning arrow flashes through the forest and snaps through Longshot's bowstring. Unfazed, the boy pulls out another.
"We'll have plenty of extra bows once we take down these guys," says Jet, and warbles a signal to the others.
The aim of the Yu Yan is preternatural, but the Freedom Fighters close the distance too quickly for that to matter.
.
.
Pakku surveys them with disdain.
"In our tribe, it is forbidden for women to learn waterbending. I can make an exception for the Avatar, if she asks politely."
Azula knows his type: a self-righteous noble secure in his power, and all the more easy to manipulate for it. She analyzes her options and says, "Master Pakku, I would be honored to be your student," without a trace of sarcasm.
"How could you?" Katara hisses, but Azula ignores her injured pride.
(she can always kill him later)
"A wise decision. I will see you at sunrise," Pakku says, turning away.
Katara's voice rises to a shriek. "What do you mean you won't teach me? I didn't travel across the world so you could tell me no!"
"... No. Go back to the healing huts with the other women where you belong."
She tears off a mitten to make a rude gesture to his retreating back.
Azula reconsiders.
She taps her on the shoulder with a long-nailed finger. "I don't expect a barbarian like you to understand," she says, "but civilized people would settle this with a duel."
"That," Katara growls, tugging off her parka, "is the only good idea I've ever heard come out of your mouth."
"I'll be your second," Azula offers, smirking as the water whip catches Pakku in the back of his balding head.
.
.
(push and pull—good and evil—yin and yang)
The Spirit Oasis makes her vision splinter, as through unfocused eyes, or doubled mirrors. Azula stands under the archway, not sure why she's come back to this place, where the water looks into the skies of two worlds.
On a whim, she curls her fingers. Water ripples, bubbles, and pinches upward.
In the oasis, the partnerless Moon stops circling. A black koi fish thrashes through the sphere of sacred water in her hands.
Azula can sense something splitting apart, a polarization of opposites. Her vision worsens, and blood pounds through her head with the low roar of the tsunami. Something intensifies in the Ocean, as if its deep malevolence is growing deeper.
Her hands start to shake, and she realizes she should never have tried to bend this water. Her chi is too close to that thing—
(corpses dancing on endless midnight sands)
(a clawed hand reaching for vengeance)
(Zuko's golden eyes wide with terror)
"Why are you holding a fish?" Katara asks, stepping through the door, and the spell is broken. Azula lets it fall back into the Spirit Oasis with a gasp of relief. The endless dance continues, and the threatening darkness vanishes like smoke.
"It's not," Azula says. Katara pretends not to notice the tremble in her fingers.
They watch the Moon and Ocean circle one another in silence.
.
.
Mai says, "Hold still, Father," and drives a dagger into the wall beside him.
He doesn't make the mistake of moving, so that the next knives flicker past his neck without touching him.
Admiring the mirror finish on another blade, she says, "A single wrong move on my part could jeopardize your future. Looks like Mother was right, after all."
"I ... "
"Listen," she interrupts. "Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime, and you already took your fair share after Azulon."
She places a scroll on her father's desk, and says, "The next Fire Lord is as good as crowned. It's time for you to reconsider your loyalties."
Mai vanishes before he can reply.
One piece of paper reads, WE HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER in threatening bold calligraphy.
The second says, Just in case. Family has to keep up appearances, after all. But don't tell Mother.
He stands over the two for a long moment before a slight smile breaks over his face. Stuffing the first note into a locked drawer and burning the second, he murmurs, "That's my girl."
.
.
Standing before the elders of the Northern Water Tribe is a thousand times more irritating than listening to Ozai's war councils. At least the generals looked at her like a tool to be used.
These barbarians look at her as if she is no use at all.
Her mouth hardens as she steps forward with military precision.
"Chief Arnook. Honored elders. The Northern Water Tribe has neglected its duty to the world for too long. You must cripple the Fire Navy before summer's end."
Azula ignores the patronizing looks in their eyes and lets her last sentence fall. "Sozin's Comet will return, and you will be destroyed."
Their disbelief shades into fear, perfectly on cue. Azula hides a smirk.
As long as she can use them, it doesn't matter what they think of her.
.
.
"My lord, we've discovered incriminating correspondence between High Generals Wei and Zan. They appear to be ringleaders of a conspiracy against the other members of your war council."
"I am not interested in the petty games of officials."
"The ultimate object appears to be your overthrow. Zan has a small bloodline claim to the throne through the Fire Lady."
"... You have done well in bringing this to my attention. Have him dealt with."
"And Wei?"
"I think Zan will be a fitting example to him. Keep him under surveillance. Let him know he's being watched."
"As you wish."
"And bring me the new record of the line of succession. There are ... family matters to attend to."
.
.
.
.
