blueandie:

Thanks. Sokka needed to overcome his fear/hatred of the ocean. I mean he is from the Water Tribe after all.

Iroh is such a hard character for me to write lol. He's so wise and poetic. I always feel like I'm writing him all wrong. Tbh I feel like most authors get him wrong because Bryke wrote him so well. I'm always hesitant to write his parts for this reason exactly lol. Dragons are now an Azula symbol, sorry I don't make the rules. I'm glad to have them back in the Fire Nation if for no other reason than Toph.


Azula's hands were smeared with blacks and blues and hints of brown. "This is ridiculous and I hate it." She grumbled.

"You only hate it because it's not coming naturally to you." Sokka declared. "Here." He took hold of her wrist and guided her through a single arcing brush stroke and then into a small spiral. A detail that would serve to portray the accent of his armor.

"It doesn't even look like you at all." She complained. "It's worse than your Appa painting."

"How could you bring that up? You know I can't paint animals!" He feigned offense.

"And I can't paint your face apparently." She muttered.

"Maybe you can paint animals and not people?" He suggested.

Azula shrugged. "Who cares, I'm tired of painting. It's tedious and messy. I can't even see my skin under all of this." She held up her hands, displaying what had to be a healthy layer of dried paint. It was certainly thick enough to have visible cracks and in places where the paint flaked off, she could see that the layer coating her hands had some thickness to it.

"And firebending isn't tedious?" He asked.

"Oh, it very much is." Azula muttered. But she had talent there. "It isn't dirty though. I don't have to spend precious time trying to was firebending off of my hands."

Sokka took her hand. "It would be a shame if you had to wash it off of your face too."

She should have seen his foolish antics coming. Wriggling his eyebrows as he did when he was about to do something stupid, he brought her hand to her cheek and rubbed. He put her hand back down, leaving her to wonder just how much damage was inflicted. She could feel a considerable amount of paint gracing her cheek. "Why would you do that."

"Sorry, I thought you were a canvas, because you're a real masterpiece." He winked.

"Wow, that was truly awful." She snatched up the palette next to her and smashed it into his face—less for the paint on her cheek and more for the part of her soul that cringed at his pickup line. She may not have been able to paint him, but she could paint on him. "I thought you were done with life ruining jokes?" She let him trail behind her as she made her way to her room to fetch a change of clothes.

"I don't know, I thought that one was rejuvenating." He shrugged.

She slipped into her closet, leaving Sokka to inspect her room. He missed the perfume of incense that hung heavily in the room, even when she hadn't been there to burn any. He missed the spacious bed she so often let him share with her. On her dresser he found a small folded note. He unfolded and red it. "Who is Petro? And why is Zuko watching her?"

"Long story." Azula paused. "Stop reading notes left on my dresser." Even so she made a quiet reminder to herself to go fetch the elephant-mouse from her brother. In the mean time she took her armful of clothes and made her way to the hot springs. She had missed them very much but between days of getting Sokka readjusted and trying to find Wire again, she hadn't the chance to truly enjoy it. She made it halfway down the hallway when Sokka took her by the arm.

"Hey, wait."

Azula turned to face him, "Hm?"

"You got something on your cheek."

"Yes, that's why you're going to the springs. Remember."

"No, no, something else."

"What else do I have on my cheek?"

"My lips." He replied before taking her into his arms and kissing her cheek. He looked so smug that she hadn't the heart to tell him that, that joke was almost worst than the first. Instead she let him give her a second one.

Azula rolled her eyes. "Now your lips are covered in paint. "I suppose you'll have to join me in the springs, won't you?"

.oOo.

Sokka watched the steam coil around her body as she scrubbed at her cheek. Apparently, the blue paint was harder to get out than either of them had anticipated. She grumbled an assortment of things ranging from an exasperated, "you're an ass, Sokka" to a mildly distressed, "I can't get it off."

"Let me try." He offered, taking the bar of soap from her hand. She seated herself on one of the rocks that left her face level with his out stretched hand. Such a rock had the water only reaching the bottom of her calfs. She propped herself up with one arm and combed her fingers though her hair with the other. Sokka dabbed at the splotches on her face while she absently kicked at the water. Eventually the blues and blacks began to fade and he could see her skin's natural color peeking through. The hand that wasn't trying to scrub the paint away, rested on her shoulder. Mostly out of the water he could clearly see for the first time, each and every scar that decorated her body. He had known that she had clawed at her wrists and legs in times of distress, but before then he hadn't noticed the marks on her sides and middle. He was surprised to see her displaying them so openly, granted he was the only one around.

He must have stopped rubbing her cheek to stare, for the princess noted, "I didn't make all of those." She took the soap back and finished the task he'd stolen from her. "Some of them happened during the war." She indicated to one or two on her side. "Training with father wasn't an easy feat."

"That one?" He asked following with his finger, a particularly long slash that started diagonally from her side, level with her ribcage, and almost reached her belly button.

"That one was me." She shrugged.

"Why?" He asked, withdrawing his hand.

"I don't remember. It doesn't really matter anymore." She slid herself back into the water and closer to himself. She draped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. "Whatever I was thinking of when I did it, I don't think about it anymore."

Part of him wondered if she was lying, at least half so. He couldn't see her as the type to completely forget about something like that. Though she was probably true in her word, that it no longer bothered her. He wished that he could let his scars be no more than that.

"I'd like to not think of the things that hurt…"

"You're going to have to think of them a little more if you're ever going to stop." She replied, pulling away to wash her hair.

"Do you think Suki is mad at me?" He asked. "Do you think she's in the spirit world hating me?"

"For what? Moving on?" Azula asked.

"For killing her with my awful sense of humor."

"Sokka, your jokes are truly atrocious, but that's not what got her killed." Azula stopped fussing with her hair. "It was your anger, not your humor. From the sound of it, the two of you were already growing distant. Arguing and bickering over small things. That's what Mai and Zuko did before parting ways." She paused. "I would imagine that you were already thinking about things you've done in the war before you lost Suki."

"Yeah." He confirmed. "I thought about it a lot."

"Which didn't put you in a good mood. She probably had her own demons to cope with. Did you ever talk about such matters?"

"Not with each other, no. With Aang, yeah."

"And that's what went wrong. It just so happened that you made a tactless joke at an ill-placed time." Azula declared. She dipped her head back and rinsed her hair.

She was probably right, but it still haunted him to think that Suki let things get that bad. To ponder the possibility that Suki would be happy that he had replaced her with Azula, of all people. "I guess." He replied.

She cocked her head. He was being a buzzkill and he knew it. But the firebender closed in on him, the water parting around her as the space between them grew less and less. With her body pressed against his, he could feel his ambivalence falling away. If Yue wasn't mad at him for finding love in Suki, then Suki would probably be fine with him finding love with Azula. He held her tightly to himself, feeling her bare chest against his own and her wet locks clinging to his shoulder. For much longer than he would have like, he thought that he would never have another moment with her in the springs. Thought he would never get to hold her again. He let his lips fall on her neck. They were there only briefly before she pushed him against the side of the spring. Before he could ask what that was about, she had her lips on his. She held the kiss until he could scarcely breathe. If the springs hadn't brought heat and color to his face, she sure had.

.oOo.

It was something she'd been meaning to do since almost freezing to death. The only thing that had kept her from it was that miserable fever. It would have been a good way to warm up, and the furs would have been a nice touch. But the springs were a fine choice as well. Her lips met his again, shorter but much deeper as she held him against the wall. She felt his hands trace her frame. Her own traveled down to his lower back. Drawing away from his mouth, she slowly trailed her tongue up his neck before offering his ear a small nibble.

"You are something else." She heard him say.

"Yeah?" She asked, before mirroring that gesture on his neck, this time sinking her teeth a little deeper.

He gave a small whimper of pleasure, it was exactly what she was looking for. She set her sights on his chest, that tantalizingly chiseled chest. She traced the contour of them with her pointer as if trying to find exactly the right spot to leave her mark.

"Is it a good something else?" She asked before making her claim.

"It usually is, with you." He replied as he ran he raked his hands through her tresses, something a bit harder to do with it being so wet. Still, the stimulation was desirable. His grip tightened on her hair—nearly pulling it—as she pushed closer than she ever had.

She ran her hands up and down his arms feeling the muscles beneath flex and shift as he rocked some. The spring churned around them, perhaps heightening the experience.

.oOo.

She allowed him to lift her out of the water. The ground wasn't the most comfortable, but Azula didn't seem to mind so he took his turn on top. She had changed very much, more than he had, he concluded with himself. She wasn't so fragile and scarcely bore any signs of her former abuses. Her firebending training was going very well, he could see that much. Even during what she claimed as her prime, she had never been so built. Yes, he decided, her training was going well. And it bled through in her current movements, each and every motion was executed boldly and with the confidence he knew her for.

She had told him that she was a woman now, she said as much with a degree of pride that outweighed any reluctance in accepting it. Holding her by the hips, he could feel as much. He hoped that he had matured as well and that she wasn't disappointed with what he had to offer.

Her hands, coming to grab his cheeks and pull his face towards her own, was completely reassuring. She curled around him like the steam from the springs and, in one fluid motion that he didn't even realize she could pull off, rolled them over so she that she was on top.

He should have known that she wouldn't accept anything other than that. He glided his hands back up and over her curves.

.oOo.

Azula's grip tightened on his back and her nails cut into his skin as he pulled at her hair. She wasn't much for whimpers and moans, but he knew what she liked. Sokka was good at what he did, very good indeed. But she had to be better.

She hadn't expected him to disappoint. But somehow she still assumed she'd be tangled up with the boy who had her pinned to the wall in a secret bunker many years back. That boy was long gone, sculpted—for better or for worse—by the war. Yue and Suki had gotten the boy, which was fine by her, because she got the man. And probably more of him than they ever did. Had he not pleasured her so, she might have had the decency to fear them dropping by from the spirit world to tear her a new one for that thought. They would have to forgive her though, because—atypically of her—she was focused on only one thing. One pleasantly dizzying, passionate thing.

Something that felt real.

Something that didn't feel forced nor awkward.

.oOo.

They lie still, under a thin curtain of mist, for some time listening to the soft lapping of the springs. Azula was still breathing somewhat heavily and he was still pulsing all over with faint tingles of pleasure. Her rolled onto his side and kissed her again. He had to admit he was worn out. Not for the first time, he found himself absently tracing her scars. Though the ones on her belly were more foreign to him. It was a wonder anyone could come out of something so abysmal. Yet she lie there looking, for all the world, as if she had everything she ever wanted and then some. She closed her eyes, probably taking in the sensation of his touch on her middle. She looked peaceful. He only hoped that he could get to such a place. The scars on her belly had more texture, seeming more raised, and for that he could only assume that her core had taken the most abuse. The kind that couldn't deliver to her arms without risk. They weren't as faint either. Even still, he could imagine her any other way. Even if she didn't think so she was perfect to him. Still stroking at one of those scars he mumbled, "you know you're beautiful, right?"

With a soft hum she replied, "yes, I know."

He chuckled. It was good to hear. Perhaps one day he would find that kind of solace. That kind of freedom and acceptance of his own scars. And perhaps he already did in one way or another; Suki had been wonderful in many ways. She was strong, and kind, a pretty. But Azula…

Azula was…she was her.

Fierce, and determined and feisty. But somehow compassionate and oddly comforting. Suki was a woman, but Azula was a dragon.

He held her close, determined not to let go.