Disclaimer: You better be glad Avatar isn't mine. It would probably end up like this…
A/N: For the most excellent Hotspur.
~Dad's going to kill you!~ Really. He is.
-Azula
The Pain of Losing
Azula and Zuko peeked out from behind the curtain as Ozai began to speak.
"Father, you must have realized as I have, that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh's bloodline has ended. After his son's death, my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se, and who knows when he will return home? But I am here, father, and my children are alive."
Azulon's expression did not change. "Say what it is you want."
Ozai stood. "Father, revoke Iroh's birthright. I am your humble servant, here to serve you and our nation. Use me."
Azulon leaned forward, his eyes wide with shock. He pointed a finger at the prince. "You dare suggest I betray Iroh? My first born? Directly after the demise of his only beloved son? I think Iroh has suffered enough. But you, your punishment has scarcely begun!"
The flames surrounding the Fire Lord's throne flared, raising to the ceiling. Zuko trembled in his boots at the sight of his grandfather's wrath. But he didn't run.
Azulon was now standing, one hand raised imperiously. "Your punishment shall fit your crime, Ozai. You shall know the pain of losing a first born son, by sacrificing your own!"
A cry escaped Zuko's lips as he heard this pronouncement. Azulon's eyes flickered to the curtains, and Ozai turned his head to look back. "Come out," said the Fire Lord.
Azula stepped out immediately, her face a mask of contriteness, and Zuko followed after a moment of hesitation. He looked at his father's face, but Ozai's expression was inscrutable.
"Well, Ozai?" boomed Azulon. "Your children are here. They stand before you. Will you obey your Fire Lord?"
Ozai closed his eyes, just for a moment, then spoke. "Stand aside, Azula."
Azula chanced a glance at Azulon's solemn face, and her father's blank one, then turned to go with a "Yes, Father."
Ozai was looking at Zuko, his golden eyes burning into his son's. "D-dad?" asked Zuko. "What's going on?"
"Obey me, Ozai."
Zuko cringed under his father's stare. "No, you… you're not gonna-"
But as Ozai moved his hands in an arc, the very real danger registered to Zuko. He turned and ran for the door with all the speed he could muster.
The lightning was faster.
For a split second, Zuko was frozen in place, captured for an eternal moment, a silhouette against the light that transfixed him. And as the thunder faded, he fell.
Azula blinked the blazing afterimage out of her eyes and looked at her father in awe. It was the first time the young girl had comprehended the power of lightning, and even on the other side of the room the hairs on her arms stood straight up. She felt a hunger awaken inside of her, consuming her with desire to feel that power again.
But she knew better than to say anything. Ozai stood utterly still, and for a moment an expression he had never worn before passed over his face. Then he took Azula by the arm, and led her away.
"Azula, wake up. Wake up."
Azula blinked blearily up at the form above her. "Mooooom, it's late!"
"Please, Azula. Get up and pack your things immediately."
Catching on to the mood, Azula sat up and looked at her mother. She was wearing a traveling cloak, and her hair was no longer in its traditional topknot. "Where are you going?"
"We're leaving."
Azula's eyes widened. "We? Why should I leave?"
"It isn't safe for us here anymore. Ozai's gone mad." It was difficult to tell, but Azula thought that her mother's voice was cracking a little.
"Why? Dad isn't going to kill me. It's perfectly safe."
Ursa said nothing for a moment. She took a deep breath. "It isn't safe for anyone here. We need to go." She turned to open Azula's cabinet and began stuffing clothes into a traveling bag.
"I'm not going," said Azula simply.
Ursa turned around, and her face showed a ferocity that Azula had never seen. "This is not negotiable, Azula. We are leaving and that is final."
For once in her life cowed, Azula allowed her mother to drag her along through the halls of the palace. The two of them wound their way out, then through the city and down to the docks. Azula heard her mother speak to the dockmaster for some time, discussing passage rates and false monikers. Finally, they boarded a ship and left.
Possibilities lost ran through Azula's head as she watched her home disappear over the horizon. She swore to herself there that she wouldn't let this destroy her. She would be back. And when she was, she would be welcomed with honor.
Six years pass
After resting a while on the ice flow, Appa finally seemed ready to fly again. "Yip yip!" called Aang, and the bison took off, moving the air under his body with his tail. Aang smiled. It was good to be flying again.
But still, as the two of them gained height, Aang looked back over his shoulder at the distant Water Tribe village that had expelled him. They had been nice people, and he felt bad that he had made them angry and possibly put them in danger. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to live in fear of another nation. It must be terrible.
Aang watched as the white and blue landscape passed beneath him. Then, with a glance at the sun for positioning, he set a course for home.
It was empty.
He'd known things would be different, hadn't he? The faces he saw would be different, and the trees would be bigger… but not this. Not just weeds and dust and wind, howling through the peaks like a lonely badgerwolf. Where had everyone gone? Why had they left?
Aang walked aimlessly around the temple, not quite knowing what he was looking for. Some sign of life, or at least a clue as to where the Air Nomads had gone. But all he found were crumbling buildings and, near the airball court, a single Fire Nation helmet, sitting alone like a crimson beacon.
The young airbender held the helmet in his hands. The Fire Nation had been here. Outsiders, outside soldiers had been to the temple. It doesn't mean they're all dead, he told himself, fighting back tears. Air Nomads move. That's why we're nomads. He put down the helmet and turned his back on it, steeling himself. And I'm going to find them.
In the village of Tenpai there was an inn. It was not the most posh resort the Fire Nation territories had to offer, nor was it run-down. By all accounts, it was completely ordinary. A nice woman named Yin Mi ran the place, with the help of her teenage daughter Zhira.
Zhira helped her mother with most chores, whether it was making the guests' rooms, cooking in the kitchen, or serving food. She was like hired help, but needed no pay. And she always did her work with a smile. Several young men in the village had their eyes on her, only waiting for her to turn sixteen.
It was only in the dark of night and away from prying eyes when Zhira would catch the little sparrowmice, setting clever traps that never killed, only crushed their legs so they could not run. Then, with her teeth bared and eyes ablaze, Zhira would burn them alive, roasting them from the tail to the head and listening to them squeal. She hid the bones and ashes under a rock, then went back to her work, smiling.
Them, at least, she had power over.
Aang consulted his map. He was traveling northeast, towards the Eastern Air Temple, where he hoped he might find some answers. He figured he could hug the coast of the southern Earth Kingdom until he got to Paurva Island, home of the temple.
But that was a long way from here, and Appa was getting tired of flying over the ocean. Aang estimated that they were only a short flight from a small island, and decided that they would stop there for a rest, and maybe for a ride or two on the elephant koi he knew lived in the area.
The airbender's reception on the island, however, was far from friendly. Appa was spotted as he came in for a landing, and Aang didn't even get a chance to ride the koi before women in green dresses and face paint fell upon him, tying him up and blindfolding him with frightening efficiency.
"Stop! Stop!" he cried. "I- I'm not from the Fire Nation!"
"Well, you're definitely foreign," said one of the women. "And you don't look like any Water Tribe trader I've ever seen."
"I'm an Air Nomad," explained Aang. "Didn't you see my bison?"
Aang heard a snort. "An Air Nomad! How ridiculous. Trying to impersonate one will do you no good on Kyoshi, spy."
"Kyoshi?" echoed Aang. That name... "I think I know Kyoshi."
"You know Kyoshi? What a liar he is! Let's throw him to the Unagi, Suki."
"Hmm… it's tempting."
Aang gulped. "No, really! I know Kyoshi… because I'm the Avatar."
It came out in a rush. Aang had never told anyone outside the temple before, and he was uncertain what effect it would have. But, for some strange reason, saying it made him feel lighter, like he was admitting to some great transgression.
But the woman only laughed. "You really expect us to believe that? The Avatar died a century ago!"
"I mean it. I am. Take off my blindfold and I'll show you."
The women did not reply, but started dragging him off. When they finally came to a stop, they tied Aang to a pole and left him there. The next voice he heard was a man's.
"So, this is the Fire Nation spy?"
"Yes. He claimed to be an Air Nomad and the Avatar."
"But I am!" insisted Aang. "Really!"
Finally, someone took off the blindfold. Aang saw he was being held in the middle of a village circle, surrounded by the costumed women and an old man dressed in blue. He looked at them imploringly. "I am an Air Nomad, and the Avatar! Just let me prove it to you!"
The old man frowned. "Throw him to the Unagi."
Aang took a deep breath, sucking in an immense quantity of air, and blew it at the ground. The force was enough to rip him free of his bonds and carry him to the top of the pole, which he now could see was a statue of a woman dressed like the girls who had attacked him. He knew immediately that it was Avatar Kyoshi.
"Do you believe me now?" he called from the top of the statue. The Kyoshi Islanders stared, shocked.
"It is him," said the old man in disbelief. "It is the Avatar."
Tales spread quickly through the rumor mill, covering miles faster, it sometimes seems, than the wind itself. Some had a kernel of truth, such as the vicious story of Prince Ozai's disinherited, unfaithful wife, running off with what had to be a bastard daughter to find her paramour. But some were just tales, and rumors of the return of the mythical Avatar were as common as dirt. Of course Zhira had heard this one, heard the stories of a mysterious boy with arrow tattoos who traveled about on a flying bison (or was it a buffalo?), avoiding Fire military encampments and moving steadily east through the dry mountains of the south.
But it was something to the quality and detail of this particular rumor that caught Zhira's attention. Merchants swore that the traders they dealt with had cousins who owned land this Avatar had personally flown over. The Fire Lords had been searching for the Avatar for a century. If it were true, how grateful would the Fire Lord be, even to a child everyone thought was illegitimate?
Zhira stood in her tiny room up in the attic of the manor-come-traveler's inn, looking out the window. The last time she'd gone into town, a young man by the name of Aiko had asked her whether she had a boyfriend, and when she had ignored him insisted that she allow him to accompany her home. He was not a bad looking boy, objectively speaking, but he was a carpenter's son, and Zhira felt less than no attraction to him. She allowed him to carry her purchases, like a servant, but when he tried to put his arm over her shoulder she proceeded to twist his wrist with such force that he yelped.
Sixteen. The number hung like a buzzard-wasp over her head. There was a time when she would have celebrated her coming of age with delight, would have accepted thousands of gifts from all manner of nobles and important figures, would have had a new ship, a set of dragon scale armor, silk robes so exquisite wearing them was like feeling a lover's caress. Now, she might get a cotton shirt from her mother, or a ceramic bead bracelet. And a carpenter's son, knocking at her door. The thought was disgusting, and Zhira felt the flames inside of her flare.
She left that night on a stolen ostrich horse, heading south.
They were always so happy to see him. They would give him food and a place to sleep, and clean hay for Appa. They were so close to the southern front, and most of the villages were bereft of grown men. Shrines to the dead were everywhere. It was sobering, but Aang kept an optimistic outlook, and when people asked him for his blessing for their son, their husband, their father, he was happy to give it.
One night, as Aang flew over the fields of millet and wheat, he was fired upon. He hadn't seen the army encampment, and after a few terrifying minutes of dodging fireballs he turned around, back towards the village he had left. There, he saw that the town was under full Earth Military occupation. The colonel there spoke to Aang, and informed him that he would be welcomed in the Earth Army.
"Thank you for the offer," replied Aang. "But I'm going to the Eastern Air Temple."
The colonel frowned. "All the land between here and the sea is under dispute. I cannot guarantee your safety, Avatar. The army can provide protection for you. You are very important."
Aang squirmed. He had to find his people, but it was clear that the world was in trouble. But still, how much use could he be to the army? He was an airbending master, true, but he certainly wasn't a soldier! He was twelve, for spirit's sakes!
"Avatar Aang, there is little in the Eastern Air Temple that would concern you. Since the slaughter of the Air Nomads, no one has-"
"Slaughter?" Aang's eyes bulged. "What do you mean?"
The Colonel looked at Aang in surprise. "At the dawn of the war, the Fire Nation laid siege to the Air Temples and killed all within. They hunted down the Air Nomads without mercy, and took no prisoners. Until we heard rumor of you, well, we assumed they were gone."
To Aang, each word felt like a blow to the head. He had still thought, still hoped that somewhere, in the Eastern Air Temple, so far from the Fire Nation, that they had survived. Or somewhere else, deep in the interior of the Earth Kingdom, in the mountains or the deserts, the nomads still roamed in their caravans, bison bellowing and lemurs trailing behind like the tail on a kite. The memories of it were so fresh to Aang, he could hardly conceive of the time and cruelty needed to turn it all to ashes.
"No," he said. "I don't believe it."
Without another word, Aang opened his glider and flew over to Appa. There must be a way around the Fire Nation encampment. He would find it, and he would leave. The Eastern Temple was waiting.
As Zhira traveled further south, the rumors became more detailed. Here, there were people who had claimed to have actually seen and spoken with the Avatar. She rode her ostrich horse to exhaustion every day following the trail, but never seemed to get any nearer.
Life was hard. Zhira had never been taught to hunt, but learned to set bushfires and shoot down the animals that fled from the flames. But she was in Earth Kingdom territory now, and knew better to do it anywhere near civilization. As a result, she soon grew as lean and hungry as her ostrich horse.
When she reached the southern front, she killed and ate the ostrich horse and continued on foot, hoping to avoid the entrenched Earth Kingdom soldiers. When they caught her, she lied effortlessly, claiming to be from one of the captured Earth Kingdom towns, trying to return home. She told them she was confident the Earth Army would recapture her village, and they sent her on her way with a warning to stay out of the battleground until the fighting was over.
When she snuck by and reached the Fire Army, she fed them a different story, that she had wanted to join the Army since she was a child, and didn't they have space for an untrained, nonbending girl, oh please? They laughed at her and sent her on her way.
But when Zhira reached the sea, there was no one to lie to, no one to fool but herself.
The Eastern Air Temple was just as bleak and empty as the Southern one. Aang wandered the halls, but there was nothing there, nothing at all. The Avatar walked back to his bison and embraced him.
"You remember, don't you, Appa? You remember when this place was alive." Appa turned a massive eye on his master and lowed softly.
Without warning, Aang broke down, sobbing into the great animal's fur with unburdened grief. His people, his friends, Gyatso… He'd abandoned them all to die. The guilt and shame welled up, and swept him away.
All he was aware of was the ringing in his ears and the feeling of being lost in unbearable light, without thought, without restraint. Only grief and guilt and rage at the world for being so unspeakably cruel. He saw nothing, felt nothing, was nothing but sheer, uncontrolled power…
And… a voice?
"Aang! Aang! You do not have to do this!"
Who was that?
"Your feelings are only natural, young Avatar. You have lost much, far too much for one of your age. But you must forgive yourself. Allow the past to be the past, and let the departed rest. Your anger cannot change what has happened. We must move forward."
It sounded like Gyatso…
"To grieve is natural. But do not let your loss taint your view of the world."
Aang felt his feet touch the ground.
"Please, Aang. Let it flow away. Be at peace."
A hand was on his shoulder, and suddenly Aang felt weak. The power left, and he collapsed to his knees with a groan.
"What happened?" he mumbled.
"It is called the Avatar State. Though I believe that it is not your first time in such a condition."
Aang looked up into the face of an old, dark-skinned man with lively eyes and an impressive white beard. "Who are you?"
"My name, young Avatar," the man replied. "Is Guru Pathik."
Aang stayed at the temple for some time, resting and recuperating. The Guru told him that he must abandon his quest to regain the past, and instead turn his energies toward learning the elements before the return of Sozen's Comet, which Aang had not even realized existed. Pathik made him promise to return to the temple when he was done, at which point he would teach him to control all four elements within the Avatar State.
There was a part of Aang that didn't want to leave. The temple was dead, yes, but it was also safe, was familiar. So much of the world had changed, had become dangerous… and he would have to do it all by himself. But then he would put his hand on Appa's flank, and he knew he wasn't alone.
There were no ferries to Paurva Island, and only fishing camps inhabited its rocky shores. So Zhira gritted her teeth and stowed away with the nets, nothing to accompany her but the knowledge of how close she was.
When she arrived, Zhira climbed a precipice carved with ancient handholds and walked the tops of cliffs that dropped into the sea, unmoved by the striking surroundings. Hungry, cold, and alone, she searched.
Aang was taking Appa for an evening flyabout when he saw the first human being on the island apart from the Guru and himself. It was a teenage girl dressed in plain peasant garb, gaunt and unkempt and picking her way along a ridge. She started waving her hands in the air, obviously trying to signal him.
Aang brought Appa down. "Hello," he said. "Who are you? What are you doing all the way up here?"
The girl looked at Aang, then at Appa, her warm brown eyes flicking back and forth. "Are you the Avatar?" she finally said breathlessly.
"Uh, yeah. I am."
For a moment, an odd light flashed in the girl's eyes. Then, "Oh thank the spirits!" The girl groaned, and looked to be on the verge of collapse. "I've been lost out here for days!"
Aang's eyes widened. "Really? That's awful!"
The girl nodded, looking miserable. "It's been terrible. I didn't think I'd find anyone else up here! My fishing boat left me behind."
Aang's heart filled with pity. "You can come stay at the temple tonight, if you want. I can take you back to the mainland tomorrow."
"Oh, thank you, Avatar! I owe you my life."
"It's no problem. I should be leaving soon anyway." The two of them climbed aboard Appa, and Aang turned to his passenger. "By the way, what's your name?"
The girl smiled. "Call me Rai."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rai. Yip yip!"
Appa took off, bearing the two of them back to the temple. Rai lay back as they flew, baring her teeth at the stars.
"Who is your friend?" asked Guru Pathik when they returned.
"Her name is Rai," replied Aang. "Her fishing boat abandoned her here."
The Guru looked at the girl sidelong as she set up her sleeping cot. "I do not mean to chastise you for kindness toward strangers, Aang. But there is something odd about her chakras. They are clouded."
Aang frowned. "Should I talk to her about it?"
"I merely caution you, Aang. No lies are as damaging as the ones we tell ourselves, but the lies we tell others can be harmful as well."
"Um…" Aang furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. "Thanks, Guru Pathik. I'll remember that."
He went to bed in one of the temple's many empty rooms, Pathik's warning bouncing around inside his head.
Rai, who of course was Zhira, sat patiently outside the Avatar's room, waiting. She had not been sleeping, and had merely stuffed her mattress with pillows. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, true, but it was a good one. She chewed over her plan as she waited for the Avatar to fall asleep.
She would not use fire. Fire Lord Azulon would want proof, and a fire would destroy the proof. She fingered the knife she had stolen from the temple's kitchens. It was so messy, her plan, but necessary, and best of all, quick. She didn't want to give him an opportunity to fight back.
Rai, who was Zhira, held her breath and listened. The Avatar's breathing had grown slow and deep. He was sleeping.
She stood.
"This is not what you need, child."
Rai, who was Zhira, whirled around, knife at the ready. The old man was there, his eyes burning her with guilt.
"I do not know who you are, child, or what it is you desire. But killing the Avatar will not get you what you seek."
"What do you know?" spat Rai, who was Zhira. "You stupid old coot. Get out of my way!"
The old man held out his hands. "So much hate in your heart! Child, what the world needs is forgiveness. Not more wrongs."
"Shut up!" hissed Rai, who was Zhira. Her fist ignited, and she shot a fire blast at the old man. It hit directly, and he crumpled.
Perhaps hearing the noise, Aang opened the door of his room and peaked out. "Guru Pathik? Is that– huuuaagghh!"
Rai, who was Zhira, stared at her bloodied knife as the Avatar folded over. Something was fluttering in her, aching in her. Something that made her eyes widen, her stomach churn. She squashed it, and fell upon the gasping, struggling Avatar, knife flashing.
When the deed was done, she took the blanket from the Avatar's cot to make a crude bag. She put her proof in it, then shouldered the surprisingly heavy pack and took it outside, past the curled form of the old man and out to the courtyard.
Then Rai, who was Zhira, who was Azula, turned her face to the dark sky, closed her eyes, and thought: Home…