Author's Notes:
My muse has returned. Here's another chapter to celebrate.
Chapter Twelve
Slowly, Aang learned how to heal another person.
It turned out to be a lot simpler than he'd thought. As the silver luminescence spread out across the water, he reconnected with the princess's chi paths. They seemed somehow brighter now, as if his resolve had somehow intensified his sensitivity.
The royal guards watched, their faces filled with a strange mix of awe and unease. Aang could feel tension radiating between them. They all wanted to princess to survive, ruthless and cunning though she was. Perhaps they saw her as a symbol of strength here in the Fire Nation, or perhaps their close relationship to the royal family had afforded them a glimpse of something worth saving in the girl. Whatever it was, Aang was compelled to repair the damage that had been done.
The energy channels fluttered as the glowing water passed over them. They seemed more responsive to the movements of the liquid now, whether that was due to a delayed effect from the previous healing session, or due to an improvement over his first attempt. The pathways snaked out, searching for connections. When two ends met, they grew together.
That's good, Aang thought. It must be working.
Minutes passed as he took each thread of energy and connected it with the rest. From his training with the monks, he had a basic idea of how the energy was supposed to flow across the body. As the pathways connected with each other, he became more confident in his ability to restore the girl's body back to its normal state.
Halfway through the process, a woman entered the hospital room. Aang glanced up, anxious that their visitor might be the Fire Lord himself, coming back to check on his daughter's condition. But he didn't recognize the face.
The guards permitted the woman to stand at the door. At first, Aang assumed she was from the royal family—perhaps a cousin, or an aunt. The woman was in her mid-thirties, and had the same chocolate-brown hair as Azula. Her eyes were a similar golden-brown to the princess's. But her clothes seemed too plain to be those of nobility. From what Aang knew of Fire Nation nobles, they tended to dress in clothes as befitted their rank. The royal family wore lots of red and gold, all their garments intricately stitched and embroidered with symbols of their position. This woman's clothes were almost as simple as the monks' clothes, at the airbending temples, and instead of being Fire Nation colors, they were white. A doctor? he wondered, though the white robes didn't line up with the clothes of the other doctors he'd seen on his way in.
The woman stood there several minutes, then walked back out. Aang returned his attention to healing Azula. As the chi paths reconnected, her other injuries began to heal. He could actually feel the blood vessels closing up as the energy flow reestablished itself. It was at once miraculous and empowering.
A few minutes later, he heard more approaching footsteps. In his peripheral vision, one of the guards looked over to the door. A moment later, the man looked back at the glowing water.
The footsteps came closer, and Aang had to swallow the lump of unease that crawled up his throat. In his prison cell, he'd learned to fear the approach of others. While orders had been given not to harm him, the guards had often threatened him with fireballs if he so much as moved on the rare occasions they fed him. Fire Lord Ozai's intrusion—the mere statement that he could revoke that protection and strip away what little safety Aang had found—had only solidified his fear of other people.
"Here," a woman's voice said. She set something on the table beside him. The smell of spices and rice drew his attention faster than he could've imagined, and he barely had the presence of mind to drop the water back into the bowl before his hands reached for the food.
As his fingertips brushed the wooden bowl with the rice, he hesitated. What if the food was poisoned? Wouldn't that be the perfect way to get rid of him, now that the princess was out of danger? They don't need me, so they're getting rid of me. He withdrew his hand.
The rice, still steaming, tormented him.
"It's not poisoned," a voice said. He looked up, and recognized the woman who'd observed him from the doorway a few minutes ago. Her gaze was stern, but sympathetic. Maternal. "If you don't eat, it will impede your bending."
He blinked, examining her face for any sign of dishonesty. Her dark eyes returned his gaze, exuding patience.
Aang lifted his emaciated hands to the bowl and brought it into his lap. He picked the chopsticks from the rice and started shoveling the food into his mouth.
The woman spoke again, this time to the guards. "Fire Lord Ozai has requested the Avatar be moved to a different cell. He's assigned me to escort him there."
Aang stiffened at the thought of a new cell. He chewed faster, gorging himself in preparation for his next term of imprisonment.
"We shall accompany you," said one of the guards.
The woman shook her head, her brown hair flowing like water over her full cheekbones. "Just me. Fire Lord's orders. I have the edict right here." She presented the guard with a piece of paper. He took it, eyes scanning the parchment for a long moment before he returned it to her. "Very well, Miss Tazia. We shall leave him to you once he finishes healing the princess."
The woman nodded and stepped aside, waiting by the door.
Aang's stomach filled rather quickly, despite the meager rations. He ate until he felt sick, then left the rest on the tray, shoulders slumping as he waited for it to be taken away. No one came to remove it, though, and he went back to his work.
Healing wasn't so difficult once he got the hang of it. This part of the process went even faster than the first half. The channels wove together, first tenuously, then more naturally. The blank spot around Azula's abdomen came alive with her life energy again, and the flesh healed as a result. By the time he was done, the damage was almost perfectly repaired. "That's it," he said, turning back to the tray of food. He looked for some sign of approval from the woman at the door, but her eyes were trained on the princess's face.
So he ate. As much as he could with his shrunken stomach, as he fought against the spasms that made him want to throw up. When he was certain he could eat no more, he stood.
"This way please," the woman said, gesturing. He followed, keeping his hands at his side as he walked. Wherever he was headed, he prayed it was better than his previous accommodations.
They passed down a series of winding corridors. The hallways were empty except for the random nurse running medication between the rooms.
"Excuse me," he began. "but can I ask you a question?"
The woman—Tazia, the guards had called her—glanced back, her expression unreadable. "Yes?"
"Who are you, exactly?"
She blinked and turned her head back in the direction they were walking. When enough time had passed that he'd stopped expecting an answer, she spoke. "I am a servant to the royal family, and senior handmaid to Princess Azula."
He blinked. I'm being taken to prison by a handmaid? "Okay . . . And where are we going?"
The woman didn't answer this one, though he waited almost five minutes before giving up on a response. While he waited, they descended a massive stone staircase. Evidently, these stairs wrapped around the exterior of the prison, because shafts of sunlight pierced the room from barred windows.
How long has it been since I've seen the sun? he wondered, staring up at the light. It seemed too bright somehow, like the torchlight had been to his eyes after so long in that wretched cell.
They descended for what felt like hours, and Aang was glad they'd brought him up to the prison hospital ward in the metal elevator to care for Azula. The mere thought of climbing all these stairs made him lightheaded.
Eventually, though, they reached the bottom. Tazia led him down another corridor, this one laced with metal doors. "These are the Black Cells," she said.
Aang shivered.
"These haven't been used in years, since their position on the ground level made escape too easy for prisoners. Because of their strength, they were used for criminals who were too powerful to be contained by lesser cells."
"Am I going to be staying here?" he asked, his stomach clenching painfully around the wad of rice he'd eaten earlier.
"No. These cells have all been converted to storage areas. We've come down here to retrieve something."
But why am I here? he wanted to ask. Surely, the Fire Lord didn't expect one servant to keep the Avatar in check, however weak he'd become. What's going on?
Tazia went over to one of the cells. The door opened with a groan, and Aang flinched. The woman actually let him out of her sight for a moment as she inspected the objects held within. Is she crazy, or does she know I have nowhere to run? he wondered, frozen where he stood.
After a moment, she emerged from the cell, a long bundle of fabric in her arms. She approached him, cradling the package as if it might break. "Take this and unwrap it."
He obeyed, confused. The wrapping was fine wool—the softest thing he'd touched in months. But it wasn't until he caught a glimpse of what was contained within that his heart started to pound.
The grain of the wood was straight, as if selected specifically for this instrument. The edges were filed down until they were smooth to the touch, then polished and stained with what he guessed to be very expensive chemicals. Two small switches, one near each end of the stick, could be pressed, and a double-jointed wooden bar would unfold from each side of the pole, perpendicular to the main line. Between the thinner extensions and the middle of the staff, a thin, golden membrane stretched out, like a pair of wings.
He looked up at Tazia, his mouth ajar. "This is a glider."
She nodded curtly. "I have a close friend who makes such things. I told him it was for a museum exhibit."
He stared at her, struggling for words. Dozens of unfamiliar emotions pulsed through him, ranging from shock and suspicion to gratitude. His fingers traced the smooth wood, felt the gentle ridges of the handholds. The subtle variations in the wings made this glider look more efficient than his old one, but the lack of ornaments lent it a subtle beauty. It was so different from the glider Azula had burned at the catacombs, but so similar in its simplicity that he felt like crying. "I don't understand," he finally said.
The handmaid walked further down the hall. For the first time, Aang noticed the reinforced metal door at the end of the corridor. "I can't imagine you would," she said, one hand on the metal door. "It's not the sort of thing a prisoner of war generally expects."
"But . . . Why? Are you letting me go? I don't understand."
"I told you I was loyal to the Fire Nation, and I am. But while the other nations burn from our infernos, another fire is slowly eating away at us from within. Kindness and hope have become foreign concepts in this land. Hatred and cruelty have taken their place. Even now, when we should be ecstatic for the arrival of Sozin's Comet, we are burning out our hope for a good future."
He blinked, surprised at the intensity in her voice.
"This war has gone on too long," she went on, and he could only nod in agreement. "And all four nations have suffered grievously for it. If it continues, it will burn all four nations to the ground. But in you, there is hope. In you, there is freedom from the taint of this hundred-year war. And so . . ." She pushed down on the steel handle, letting the massive door creak open. "you must be the one to end it."
He stared at the brilliant rays of sunshine flooding in through the door and stepped forward. His new glider felt unnaturally light in his hands. He looked back to Tazia, wondering what his face must look like, and bowed deeply, in the style of the monks. "Thank you."
Tazia returned the bow, making the necessary adjustments for the Fire Nation. "Bring hope back to the world, Avatar. Before we burn."
He nodded, flicking the switches that made the wings of his glider swing out. He held the simple instrument above his head and stepped outside. And for the first time in months, he flew.