disclaimer. as usual, i own nothing familiar etc.

author's notes. you are all so kind to me...and i return the favour by being so cruel. (i'll grow a heart one day, i promise!) thank you to everyone for your thoughtful, generous feedback. you keep me so well-fed, i love it.

as usual, you can find me on tumblr at colourwhirled-writes for fic and general life updates.

without further ado, i give you...

southern lights

chapter xliii. the destiny of stars


we think twice and always turn around
a comfortable frown
so jump but sit and burn a lie
there's no wrong, no right

"tonight, tonight, tonight" / low roar


In his dreams he can run no more.

He struggles against the shadows pulling him with phantom fingers deeper into the abyss of forgotten nightmares. The air in his lungs turns to liquid, to tar as he sinks further into its recesses, a living swamp that gnashes its teeth around him, swallowing him piece by piece until what's left of him remains no more.

All that remains are visions, clear and sharp and coloured like memories held through broken glass. Even as he holds them closer, the shards cut through him, their truth spilling secrets out in the red of his blood, alive with a pulse thrashing against an invisible pull shackling him to the darkness.

He strains against it, pulling ever toward the pulsing light, even as he comes undone - flesh, sinew, blood, bone yielding to the hopes and dreams simmering beneath. Truth and lies weave into a bright tapestry, baring its secrets to plain sight.

...might want to think of a better cover name...try Lee, there's a million Lees…

He gasps with flagging breaths, his limbs unravelling in the jaws holding him mercilessly in its grip. Unable to flee, unable to fight back, unable to do anything at all, except endure.

A woman on the cusp of adulthood, with hair the colour of moonlight and sadness shading her smile. Her fingers closing around the empty space where his hands used to be. Stay with me.

The air sputters in his lungs, choking the silence in the shape of words spilling from his mouth, an empty forgotten tether.

I'll always be with you. The silken weight of polished stone warmed by the heat of his palms, before it is encased by hers. Shrouding its white gleam from view as though she hides the moon in her hand. I promise.

He tries to scream, an ache burgeoning somewhere in the liminal spaces where his heart used to beat. The girl's face shimmers and blurs before his eyes, swept away by an invisible current. He scrabbles against its flow, a forgotten part of him brimming with the urge to hang on, clutching at the shore with all his might even as it sweeps him further away.

Two women clad in blue and white. One ancient and one not so much older than him. Yet his pulse quickens at the sight of them, a panic and instinctive relief that makes him feel like a child again.

Why?

A gnarled hand rests on his shoulder, holding him at bay. Its frail weight more substantial than anything else in his world. Take care of each other, it warns in a voice ancient with wisdom and incipient grief. You are all you have.

Who?

But the old woman's grip falters, as snow the colour of soot drifts down lazily, a gentle harbinger of certain destruction. The women break before him, a warrior in blue collapses at his feet. Screams echo in the distance, before the black and white turns red with fire and spilled blood.

A thousand questions pummel the yawning empty spaces where Lee used to be, an identity, a self, an entire persona painted in the certainty of his blood.

And the linchpin that threatens it all, sends it teetering to the edge of the chasm waiting longingly to devour him.

Don't leave me.

A little girl surrounded by fire and water and walls of stone, screaming for him even as everything else closes in on her like a trap. Come back, come back for me.

The unmistakable face of the waterbender who saved his life, pleading for him to stay even as his traitorous feet carry him further away with each word. Brother, she calls him, a woman he does not remember, bestowing upon him a name he does not recognize.

And yet it resonates through him, the power in its syllables humming with the untapped strength of his spirit. A sense of self so strong and true, it shatters the darkness surrounding him, the web of truth and lies disintegrating like shadows yielding to purifying light. The only thing that exists is the beating of his heart, its rhythm a deafening certainty repeating into the void. Calling to him, rousing with every stroke.


He awakens with a start, his heart still drumming an echo pounding loud in his ears in syllables he can barely hang onto before they curl away like mist on the wind.

Blinking in the darkness, his entire body aching and leaden after lying motionless for how long, he doesn't even know. Where he is, who he is...it all slips out of reach, swept away by the rapid tide of his thoughts growing more erratic by the second.

At length he registers the liquid trickling down his face. Tears? Or was it the dripping of moisture gathering overhead? Only then does he realize he is sprawled on his back on a cold hard surface, in a place so dark he cannot guess its size.

With a grunt, he tries to sit up, only to find his motions restricted by the sudden clink of metal biting into his skin. Chains linking to cuffs, heavy around his wrists and ankles and neck.

"Hello?" he calls out, panic rising abruptly at the understanding - he is trapped here, he is a prisoner. "Is anybody there?"

His voice stifles overloud in the darkness enshrouding him like a cage closing in tight around him. His eyes adjusting to the gloom enough to perceive his surroundings - a tiny chamber of a room, barely more than a closet, its walls of rough stone slippery with lake slime and dimly glowing with a faint green phosphorescence. Something glimmers off the iron-bolted door across from him, a faint light peeking through the small metal grille embedded in its solid wooden mass.

"Hello?"

He isn't sure if he imagines the small voice muffled through the stone, or if it is just another echo ringing hollow in his ears. Until it continues, rising in pitch with unmistakable terror. "Lee? Is that you? Are you awake?"

Lee. The single syllable bludgeons the insides of his skull, carving out a space that doesn't fit quite right. His heart judders in response, reacting to the confused tangle of his thoughts, his senses. Who's Lee?

"Oh, please be awake," the disembodied voice continues desperately, "they've got me in here and Ty Lee - she hasn't even woken up yet since what they did to her -"

The image burrows through his mind with a flash of remembered horror. Uniformed shadows surrounding him all around. A girl in pink flying through the air, twisting like a puppet on its strings.

" - and Suki, they took her somewhere, Lee, I don't know what they're doing to her but -"

A bloodcurdling scream pierces through the stifling gloom. The lone voice breaks off abruptly.

His skin erupts in prickles all over - a girl's scream, definitely a girl -

Another image bolts through him. A girl wearing a warrior's uniform, her face daubed thickly with paint. Black like shadow, white like bone, red as the blood oozing in thin trails out the corners of her mouth as they dragged her body away…

Suki. He scrambles upright with a surge of remembrance. The chains holding him in place clank noisily around him as he eases into a crouch. Their names rattle off in his memory with a clarity that eludes his own. Suki, Ty Lee -

"Haru!" he calls back, his fingers twisting desperately at the cold metal links. "Haru, is that you?"

"Lee! Oh thank the badgermoles it's you -" The young earthbender's voice shakes in relief. "Is Suki with you?"

"No," he answers cautiously, his eyes scanning the scant darkness around him and finding it empty, "no it's just me here. Is Ty Lee with you?"

"Yeah, she's here," replies Haru's faint voice. "They locked us up here together."

"How long have we been here?" he presses, touching his face gingerly and wincing at the ache that nearly splits his head in two.

"I don't know," Haru's voice answers plaintively. "Maybe days? Weeks? Longer?"

He slumps against the wall, his back growing cold and damp with the moisture that oozes from its surface. Fighting a reflexive shudder of disgust, he tries to focus on the problem at hand.

"We've got to get out of here," he says urgently, his heart sinking as he takes stock of his surroundings. He was locked up and chained in a cell at the bottom of a lake with no escape in sight. Ty Lee was still unconscious, and nobody knew where Suki was. "Can't you earthbend a way out of here?"

Haru snorts in response. "And get caught by those freaks they have guarding us?" His voice lowers darkly. "What are they?"

Chills run down his spine at the memory of it. The menacing shadowy figures dressed in the garb of Dai Li agents bearing down on him. Clawing into his body as effortlessly as a child tearing apart its favourite doll. "I wish I knew."

We wouldn't be here if I did.


"You'll have to excuse the mess," Mai hears herself say primly. "Things have been busy around here. Redecorating hasn't exactly been a priority."

She gestures vaguely at the small palace room crumbling around them. The vestiges of its former opulence are barely visible over the cracks in the walls, the scorch marks scarring the shiny red and gold lacquer, and the ripped curtains swaying from the damp ocean breeze creeping through the shattered windows, filling the room with its faintly briny smell.

With a sigh, she folds her hands carefully in her lap, before straightening her shoulders and glancing across the low round table propped up in the middle of the room, the only furniture in the room that wasn't charred or broken or grimy with dust. The amber light of the burning torches set along the walls clashes with the grey daylight pouring through the windows, while the distant clamour of the people lining the harbour echoes up the slope of the mountain, distracting her momentarily from her thoughts.

For a moment, her reflection in the table's high-polished shiny surface captures her attention. In its dark reflective mirror, her skin appears bone white, the lines scoring her face nearly as black as her hair. Something like revulsion coils in the pit of her stomach, before she swallows and glances up at the other occupants of the small room, her expression of perpetual boredom feeling more and more like a thick mask heavy on her face.

A broad, middle-aged, plainly dressed woman with dark skin, liquid brown eyes and long black hair pulled into a high braid lounges on one side of the table, the only person in the room with the audacity to appear relaxed. Seated directly across from her was Azula, wearing a forbidding scowl and heavy red brocade befitting of her station as the Crown Princess.

Mai takes a deep breath from where she kneels quietly at Azula's right hand, before sparing a glance at the young, lean man seated next to her, his hand sometimes brushing her own. Kei Lo, with his warm brown eyes and even warmer demeanour so starkly different from Zuko and everything else she had known, she still wonders why she was dating him at all.

"It's perfect, Mai," he says formally, though he takes the opportunity to smile at her gratefully. "And I, for one, am extremely thankful for this opportunity to meet with Her Highness face to face. I know you must be extremely busy, Princess Azula."

"Yes," Azula sighs, already sounding bored. "I am. This is all highly unusual, Kei Lo."

"My apologies, Princess." Kei Lo ducks his head in a quick bow of contrition. "I sincerely hope this will be worth your while."

Azula steeples her fingers in her lap, her shoulders rigid and her back ramrod-straight. She says nothing, but offers a wry half-smile in response instead. One that suggested that she sincerely doubted it, but was curious nonetheless.

"Um…" Kei Lo's smile strains at the corners, faltering in Azula's expectant silence. Mai fights the urge to roll her eyes, instead fixating on the wrinkles barely visible along the seams of his black robes. I went through the trouble of arranging this meeting with Azula, the least he could have done is get his clothes pressed properly.

Then she winces, for the scandalized voice whispering criticisms in the back of her mind sounded an awful lot like her mother's. Truth be told, she still wasn't sure what fit of madness had possessed her to say yes when he had first asked her on a date. It had been the first indulgence she had ever allowed herself, back when she had first returned home from the army in low spirits and with no Fire Nation prince in tow. She was the daughter of a noble family, and Kei Lo was the adopted son of a former courtier. An elected representative of the Fire Nation people, a civilian leader, and now, since the dissolution of the Imperial Court by Ozai, a mere commoner.

"May I present to Her Highness, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation -"

"Empire," Azula corrects.

"What?" Kei Lo flounders, already sounding nervous to Mai's ears.

"Empire," she repeats impatiently. "I am the princess of the Fire Empire, and you will address me as such."

"R - Right," Kei Lo stutters, splotches of dark red appearing in his face. "Fire Empire. Not just the Fire Nation, of course...please accept my deepest apologies, Princess Azula of the Fire Empire."

"Go on," she commands irritably.

Kei Lo draws a deep breath, wiping his hands along his black robes. Mai watches him dispassionately, already crumbling under Azula's scrutiny. Perhaps the only reason she was dating him was because it made her parents squirm, she thinks humourlessly. To see their precious daughter with some commoner, going against everything they had taught her...it had been strangely satisfying.

And of course, it had allowed her to smugly announce to Zuko, the night of the wedding, that she already had a boyfriend by the time he thought to ask...which obviously meant that she had won the breakup. Even if she was positive that something had gone down between him and that waterbender, it didn't matter. Zuko had fled with his uncle and was still relying on her secret letters to plot his next steps forward - yes, she had definitely been the one to come out ahead compared to him.

"May I present my esteemed mother," Kei Lo continues in an unsteady voice, "Kei Ling, governor of Wu Shui, province of the Five Rivers, and former Imperial Courtier."

"Princess Azula," Kei Lo's mother says in her deep, low voice, bowing her head respectfully. "It's been some time since we've crossed paths."

"Yes," Azula says carelessly. "Ever since the Imperial Court disbanded, there hasn't been much occasion to."

"Well," Kei Ling answers evenly, "as my son said, I am grateful that you would make the time to meet with me."

"As you should be." Azula raises her chin haughtily. "I'm not quite sure what prompted me to entertain this meeting at all. But…" Mai's back stiffens as Azula smiles in her direction. "Mai is a dear friend of mine, and she would never waste my time. So tell me, Kei Ling, what can you offer me to make my time worthwhile?"

"Now Princess," Kei Ling parries, her plain dark brown hanfu seeming to strain under her considerable bulk. "I know we've never been properly introduced, but you must know of me from your time in court, do you not?"

"Hmm." Azula's nostrils flare as she stares down her nose at the earnest woman sitting across from her. "It's hard to recall. There were so many among the elected representatives and ambassadors, and yet…"

To Mai's surprise, Kei Ling begins to smile, but says nothing.

"You had quite the reputation, if I remember correctly," Azula continues, frowning as the woman's smile widens. "A fixture among the elected courtiers, even as their numbers dwindled and diminished. And yet...you were quite the rabble-rouser, weren't you? Always speaking out against my father and his friends, against me." Azula stares at Kei Ling appraisingly, appearing mildly impressed in spite of herself. "However did you manage that?"

Kei Ling laughs heartily, which was rather bold of her, Mai thinks privately. "Now, Princess, you don't stay an elected courtier for as long as I have by playing coy."

Mai raises her eyebrows but says nothing. Truth be told, she would far rather prefer to be snooping on one of the countless war councils unfolding in Ozai's parlour and Agni, she was officially losing her mind if she actually wanted to be at one of those boring meetings instead. But from what she had gleaned of Kei Lo's mother, she had been a veteran of the Imperial Court with an abrasive reputation. Though the aristocratic courtiers like Mai's father had sneered at the elected representatives, regarding them as mere commoners and peasants, Kei Ling's fearlessness probably stemmed from her ties to the more unsavoury parts of Caldera City, from where she hailed. Having most of the city's crime lords in her pocket, she probably slept the soundest in the homeland, maybe even more so than the royals did lately.

"I know we've had our difference in court," Kei Ling continues in measured tones, "but -"

Azula lets out a derisive snort. "That's putting it lightly."

"Yes." Kei Ling has the audacity to smirk. "I've been on the receiving end of your tirades more than I can count, haven't I? Spirits, I envy your youth."

Azula brightens marginally at the unexpected compliment. Well played, Mai thinks, impressed despite herself.

"But, to answer your question, Princess…" Kei Ling leans forward, placing her palms flat against the smooth polished table. "What can I offer you? Something that no one else in your father's circle can."

Now it is Azula who lets out a laugh. The sound of it sends prickles up Mai's spine. "Like what? A free ticket to the seedy underbelly of the harbour city?" She waves a dismissive hand. "No thanks."

To her credit, Kei Ling doesn't flinch at the princess's censure but instead, her smirk widens to match Azula's. "Not exactly," she allows, her deep brown eyes glittering in the flickering light of the torches. "But tell me, Princess. Now that you've earned your place in your father's special council...how does it feel to be summarily dismissed by everyone in the room?"

Azula's face turns instantly severe. "How dare you," she hisses, her clawed fingers tightening into the richly embroidered brocade of her royal dress. "Dismissed? I'll have you know that I have never commanded more respect in my life! Why, next to my brother -"

"Prince Zuko was a naive fool, yes, I grant you that, but you might as well compare yourself to a shell-less hermit crab while you're at it," Kei Ling cuts Azula off impatiently, and Mai's jaw drops. They weren't kidding when they said she had guts. "Tell me, now that your brother is no longer around to be pitted against Ozai's golden child...how soon will it be before you find yourself in the same spot as him?"

Azula opens her mouth hotly, but makes only a strangled sound. The sound of Kei Ling's deep laughter rings loudly in Mai's ears. "Oh, so it's already begun, has it?" The large woman drums her fingertips along the table in a steady rhythm, punctuating her measured tones. "You've surrounded yourself with men loyal to your father, each eager to prostrate himself lower to the ground, heedless of lineage or cunning or strength… How exhausting. And isolating."

To Mai's shock, Azula says nothing, electing to glare at the former courtier with a ferocity that threatened to set her on fire if she said the wrong word. But Kei Ling continues blithely, as though blind to the Princess's mounting hostility...or with a seasoned indifference to it. "I know what it feels like. I know because I've been there, Princess. I've had to claw my way up from the seedy underbelly of the nation, as you so eloquently put it. Pitted against thugs and crime lords and corrupt officials alike to hold my spot as an elected representative of the Imperial Court. I've weathered wildfires, famine, worker revolts, your own lord father's crusade to remove my seat from the court… And now, in the middle of a crisis of leadership and civil war brewing, if you have an ounce of curiosity as to how I managed all that, I think you'll know straightaway how exactly I can help you."

Azula lets out a disbelieving huff, her mouth working wordlessly before she finally finds her voice. "Help me?" she repeats disdainfully. "I fail to follow your rambling. Granted, you have extensive experience as a courtier, but I was born to rule. I was raised in the court, cut my teeth on its workings and intrigues and plots. What could I possibly learn from you?"

"Oh, yes. The divine right to rule," Kei Ling scoffs, her fingers still tapping rhythmically against the wooden table. "But, indulge me, Princess. When your own father decided that my opposition to him was a hindrance and that I had to go, why am I still here? Better men than me have tried to do my job, only to forget their roots. Sooner or later, they turned to corruption, bribery, lining their pockets while their countrymen starved, growing fat off riches imported from the colonies while their countrymen slaved away in factories for scraps, hiring their cronies to silence dissent among the people and bully them into believing that the politics of the Imperial Court was just another game rigged against them...until one fine day your father comes along and with a wave of his hand disbands the Imperial Court and the very office that protected these men." The woman's face grows forbidding. "Go look for them now."

Azula scowls fiercely. "I'm not following your point. I suggest you make it, and quickly, before I lose my patience."

"Your father was of the line of kings, of emperors, even. How could a jumped-up, glorified peasant nobody like myself compare to that kind of power?"

"I don't know," Azula fires back, clearly incensed. "Perhaps you were simply too irritating to get rid of quietly, and it simply wasn't worth his while."

Kei Ling lets out a big belly laugh, and Mai winces as she wipes a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. "Well, that's one part of it! But not exactly. You see, Princess, you were born a royal amid nobles. You grew up surrounded by men of wealth and lineage and all the power that buys." The woman's face turns suddenly somber as she meets Azula's probing gaze unblinkingly. "But now that you're among equals, maybe even up against your superiors in some respects, you find your old tricks just don't work anymore. Your genius, your ruthlessness, your loyalty to your father...all of it suddenly no longer enough. After all, your father has more men than he knows what to do with. He's stacked his council with men who repeat what he wants to hear, so he has no time for your ideas or your plots. He has no need to recognize your strength when others will stop at nothing to serve him blood, no matter the cost. And as the so-called Phoenix King, everyone's utmost loyalty is his by right, so yours is no longer of consequence. What more can you offer the man who already owns the world?"

A sudden flare of light flashes in the corner of Mai's eye, and when she turns to Azula, she sees the silk smouldering in her lap. "Get to your point already, woman," she growls, her fingernails digging into the singed scorch marks of her dress. The smell of smoke lingers in Mai's nostrils.

"Well, like I said before...I believe you already know what you want from me," Kei Ling declares, impossibly confident in front of Azula's dangerously building wrath. "You want to know how I, a mere glorified commoner, succeeded where so many others failed, don't you?"

"Perhaps you accomplished this by retaining a position of so little influence or use that none would bother desiring it, let alone replace it," Azula retaliates hotly. "Who in their right mind would wish to speak on behalf of that unwashed mob?"

"That unwashed mob is the Empire," Kei Ling says sharply. "When Ozai and his cronies decided to stack the court in their favour and weed out their opponents, at that time, I oversaw the territory along the Jang Hui river. This was mostly impoverished fishing villages, mind you, but when those villagers got wind that Ozai meant to replace me with some snotty, blue-blooded aristocrat who'd never gotten his hands dirty in his life, why, they saw red." Her expression lightens as she tosses a knowing glance at Azula. "You might have heard of him, actually. Shuren? Broad shoulders, sideburns, big temper and generally incompetent?"

Azula actually winces. "One of Zhao's creatures," she mutters darkly. "He's an imbecile."

"That's putting it lightly!" Kei Ling crows, and of all the unexpected turns this ill-fated conversation had taken, Mai found this the strangest.

But a faintly amused smile plays across Azula's mouth. "I imagine the people didn't take kindly to that, did they?"

"Oh, they lashed out every way they could," Kei Ling replies, waving her hand vaguely. "They protested, they revolted, the workers at the refinery went on strike and refused to come in to work. And all of a sudden, instead of coasting on an easy political victory, Ozai was faced with a crisis. The Jang Hui refinery produces all the metal to build the military's equipment. Without those workers, construction of his boats, his tanks, his airships...all of it ground to a halt until Ozai backed down."

"My father...backed down from you?" Azula echoes, stunned.

Kei Ling smirks at her aghast expression. "Of course, he chose to thank me by increasing my jurisdiction to include the territories of all the elected courtiers he had successfully removed, so to my new constituents, it ended up looking like a power grab on my end...but that's neither here nor there, I can't fault him for playing the game. Anyway, that's how a lowborn commoner like me ended up governing the entire Wu Shui province."

"Jang Hui…" Azula's forehead furrows hard in thought. "I've heard that name before. I could have sworn I heard about three worker riots there in the past fortnight?"

Kei Ling's knowing smile widens infuriatingly. "Oh, you're right! What a happy coincidence that I have the ear of the labour leaders organizing the riots and the strikes."

"You do?" Azula stiffens, no longer disguising her interest. "Do you have their names? Of course you must, give them to me so I can have those traitors captured and burned alive as a lesson to all -"

"No," Kei Ling answers calmly.

Azula's face mottles dangerously. "Are you denying an order from your princess?" she asks in a threatening voice.

Mai privately wants to shrink into a corner of the room and hide. Next to her, Kei Lo's face has drained of its colour, appearing as terrified of Azula's wrath as Mai herself feels.

But his mother only rests her chin in the palm of her hand, regarding Azula as though she was a wayward child. "Only if it's a stupid order," she retorts with impossible brazenness. "You're thinking like your father. Just crush and burn your dissenters only to have them pop up again next week even stronger." Her deep brown eyes bore into Azula in a challenging stare. "Now, I know you're smarter than that, so let's try this again… How would you use these angry labour leaders with significant influence among the people clamouring against your father's rule, the people who run the engine of this nation?"

Azula blinks in surprise, before frowning to puzzle over Kei Ling's challenge. "Well...in an ideal world, I would want those men loyal to me."

"Ahh." Kei Ling's eyebrows raise meaningfully. "Now you're thinking like a true courtier."

"But that would never happen." Mai nearly chokes on her spit as Azula quickly backpedals, her pale face suddenly flushed. "As long as my uncle and brother walk free, the people will champion them. It would be a waste of my time to even try. Besides…" She tucks her hands into her sleeves before averting her gaze uncomfortably, "I could never do that to my father. Cultivating my own loyalties among the people…" She swallows, her voice trailing off uncertainly before she shakes her head quickly, as though in a panic. "That would be an act of direct treason."

Kei Ling stares at her searchingly, before leaning forward deliberately. "Only if you're caught," she challenges in a low voice.

Mai's breath hitches, as she braces herself for the inevitable backlash to follow. But Azula's eyes only widen fearfully instead.

"I've got extensive experience governing, plotting, wrangling...whatever you need," Kei Ling continues smoothly, leaning back on her haunches comfortably, as though they had been discussing the weather instead of how to plot treason against Ozai. She flips her braid over her shoulder decisively. "So if any position on your council becomes available...I'd be happy to throw my hat in the ring."

It takes a while for Mai to close her mouth, so taken aback by the woman's nerve. And to think all this time, she just wanted a job interview, she reflects wryly. Well, that was a hell of an interview.

Azula says nothing, only staring at the former courtier, sizing her up with cold amber eyes, possibly deliberating whether Kei Ling could be trusted.

All of a sudden, the door to the room slams open, clattering loudly as it bounces off the chipped stone wall.

Azula swallows her yelp of shock, composing herself swiftly as members of the Imperial Guard pour into the room. "What is the meaning of this?" she demands imperiously, sounding more like the cold, ruthless princess Mai knew her to be.

A part of Mai shrivels, wondering if this was a setup and they were being arrested for treason against Ozai, before one of the guards steps forward and bows. "My deepest apologies, Your Highness," he says urgently, "but we had to find you. A riot has broken out along the harbourfront."

"A riot?" Azula repeats with a scowl. "Another one? What is it this time?"

"Well, the people are hungry, Your Highness," the guard explains tersely. "A group of them tried to storm the public granaries, you see...but they were empty."

Azula's jaw tightens implacably. "Unacceptable," she seethes. "And where is the rest of the Guard? Why has nobody stepped in to stop this madness?"

"Asaka took the rest of the Guard down to contain the protest," the guard replies, his voice growing higher-pitched and anxious with every word. "But - but a child was killed, by - by accident, I think, and now it's getting out of hand, it's evolving into a massacre, Your Highness -"

"Take me there at once!" Azula commands, rising quickly to her feet. She casts a fleeting glance at Kei Ling's smugly triumphant face. "This has been a most telling meeting, Kei Ling. Excuse me."

And without another word, she sweeps out of the room, falling in step with the rest of the guards as they march away down the hallway.

Mai lets out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. The cold air is clammy against the sweat beading along her forehead. In the distance, she can hear a faint swell of voices, shouts and screams echoing along the slope of the mountain.

"Another riot," Kei Lo groans next to her, shaking his head. "What is this nation coming to?"

But his mother only sighs contentedly, straightening the borders of her plain hanfu. "Well, that went better than I expected!" she exclaims delightedly, to Mai's growing disbelief. "At first, I didn't think she was going to bite, but that riot couldn't have come at a better time…"

Mai only shakes her head in mounting despair. Is everyone here crazy, or is it just me?


A slam against the door jolts Lee out of his daze. He scrambles to attention as something rattles and slides through the slim metal flap in the door.

"Dinner," calls a rough voice from just outside his cell. A silhouette wearing the Dai Li sloping hat hovers in the metal grille, backlit by the faint green light in the corridor. "You'd better eat that quickly."

Crawling forward, he squints at the small tray lying on the ground, its contents carelessly askew. An earthenware bowl full of thin rice porridge, a small cup of clear water. Not nearly enough to nourish a man grown, but enough to keep him alive for a time.

Still, it was better than nothing. His spirits rise marginally as he awkwardly grabs at the meagre meal. The water cold and wonderful against his parched lips, the porridge lumpy and flavourless even as he shoves it into his mouth hastily.

"I think this is the best thing I've ever tasted," he croaks out through an unchewed mouthful. With a sigh, he gulps down the last of it and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His stomach grumbles in complaint, already craving more. "You don't happen to have any more of that, do you?" he remarks at the shadow standing its silent vigil outside his cell. "For extra hungry prisoners?"

To his surprise, the guard answers. "Standard rations apply to everyone." He catches a hint of an accent in the guard's voice, one that surprises him with its familiarity. "Including extra hungry prisoners."

He isn't sure if he imagines the sardonic hint that enters the guard's voice, but he seizes the opportunity. "Hm. That's a bummer," he retorts, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Maybe you shouldn't have tried to break into Lake Laogai, then." The guard lets out a sigh, before speaking again in a quieter voice. "I'm coming inside. No funny business, now, understand?"

He nods before realizing the guard couldn't see him. "Right. Got it. No funny business," he answers solemnly. The loud scrape of sliding metal fills the air before the door screeches open partway. Light pours in from outside, threatening to blind him.

He shrinks, averting his watering eyes as the crunch of bootsteps enters the cell. The rattle of empty dishes sliding on the tray as the guard picks it up, and swiftly turns to leave.

"Wait!" he cries, snatching at his chance. "What's going to happen to us?"

The guard pauses, already halfway through the door with his back turned to him. "That's strictly need-to-know information."

But he catches a waver in the guard's voice. From the sound of it, he was young, maybe not that much older than himself. "Come on," he wheedles, prising at the chink in the guard's stern demeanour. "You already have me locked up. What more harm could I possibly do from here?"

The guard's uniform rustles as he shifts his weight from one foot to another, giving the thought far more consideration than Lee had bargained. Still, the moments stretched out long enough for him to prepare for the inevitable sound of the door slamming shut when -

"Long Feng doesn't care about your friends. He's only using them as a way to get information out of you."

Lee blinks in surprise at the blunt admission. "That's...awfully considerate of him," he says blankly, the wheels of his mind turning and sputtering to a halt.

"Once we're done with the bounty hunter, the Kyoshi girl's next." The guard's voice is steady, and yet a hint of sympathy softens its blows. "If I were you, I'd give him something. Anything. It's too late for you, but maybe your friends will be spared a drawn-out, torturous end."

As though punctuating his words, another shrill scream echoes through the corridor. Lee's stomach curdles as the guard winces. "What are they doing to her?" he asks nervously.

The guard pauses, still as a statue. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes!" Lee exclaims, his guilt boring through him angrily. "It's my fault they're in this mess! I should at least know what torture they're going through because of me."

"You're a man of honour, aren't you?" Surprise suffuses the guard's flat voice. "You're not at all what I expected."

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly living up to your reputation either, Mr. Scary Guard," Lee grumbles, stung by the observation and how false it felt compared to the reality of the situation. In truth, he had rushed into Lake Laogai poorly prepared for what lay inside it, and led everyone straight into a trap. "You're not even from the Earth colonies, are you?"

The guard flinches again before answering tentatively. "No."

Lee thinks back to the dreadful moment when they had all been taken prisoner. Of the fearsome Dai Li agents who had rendered them all motionless without earthbending. "Waterbenders. You're from the Water Tribes, aren't you?"

The empty dishes on the tray rattle in the guard's shaking hands.

"What are you even doing here? Why are you helping Long Feng? It doesn't make any sense."

"What would you know?" The guard's voice changes abruptly, dark and scornful where it had once sounded almost reluctantly friendly. "My countrymen and I lost everything to the Empire. The Dai Li rescued us, gave us purpose. A reason to fight, to free these lands, when we couldn't save our home."

"You think Long Feng wants to free these lands?" Lee can't help the laugh that bubbles in his throat. "Boy, have I got some inconvenient news for you."

"Why do you care? You fight for the rebellion." The guard turns away from him, blocking the light streaming in from outside. "For the Empire."

"The rebellion doesn't support the Empire!" Lee retorts, straightening where he sits in dismay. "We don't support the Dai Li, either! We just want to live our lives in peace! Surely as someone from the Water Tribes, you can respect that?"

"Lies." But underneath the guard's hissing voice, a waver of doubt emerges. "Long Feng promised us a home here, where we could be free. If we helped him take back these lands from the Empire."

"For your information, Long Feng works with the Empire now," Lee fires back. "He and Ozai cut a deal. Divide and conquer. Now civil war is tearing the Empire apart, while over here, Long Feng gets to carve the entire continent out for himself."

The guard freezes in the doorway, so silent that he might have turned into stone.

"Long Feng specializes in brainwashing and misinformation," Lee continues, more gently as the guard's silence gathers weight. "It's okay if he duped you too, it's what he does -"

"Are you done yet?"

Another voice springs from the space beyond the doorway, cutting him off contemptuously. The sound of more bootsteps pausing just outside the cell, before another guard's silhouette joins them, this one smaller and female, but sounding far older. "What's taking so long?"

The younger guard starts, clutching the tray with both hands. "Sorry, Ruska. I was just on my way."

"You know better than to converse with prisoners, Arrluk," warns the new guard, already turning away. "Especially rebel scum like this one, traitors to his own kind."

"I'm not a traitor!" Lee protests, the chains binding his hands clinking uselessly.

"Aren't you?" The woman's voice is without pity as she glances at him over her shoulder. He makes out the profile of her face silhouetted against the bright light, the hard set of her mouth curling in disgust. "How a boy from the Water Tribes can work in the interests of the Empire without considering himself a traitor remains beyond my understanding. Come, Arrluk, let's go -"

"I'm not from the Water Tribe!" Lee snaps, even as something inside him reels and his heart skips a beat. "Am I?"

"You have the look of a Water Tribe boy," scoffs the woman. "You tell me."

"I don't know," Lee admits softly, the first time he has ever admitted the thought to himself, let alone voice it out loud. "I don't remember anymore." The kaleidoscope of disjointed memories plays through his mind again, seeming as though they had happened to someone other than himself. "I don't even think Lee is my real name." The waterbender from the Sun Warriors isle stands before him again, her blue eyes the reflection of his, burning with anguish and unshed tears. "I can't even trust my own memories, since you guys played in my head. The only clue I have is a waterbender who kept calling me Sokka."

The word wraps around his tongue as though made for it. His heart strikes up a pulse shaped by its syllables, echoing loudly in his ears, Sok-ka, Sok-ka, Sok-ka…

"That can't be right." The woman's voice grows hoarse with sudden feeling as she turns on her heel to survey him more closely. "That...that was the name of Hakoda's son."

"I remember," the boy, Arrluk murmurs. "Sokka was his son, and his daughter was Katara."

The name pops out at him with its familiarity. "That's what Suki called her! Katara! Apparently she's my sister."

Now the two guards stumble back from him, as though the ground is shifting unsteadily beneath their feet. "This must be a trick," the woman breathes, pressing a hand to her chest. "Hakoda fought to the death for our freedom. I saw him fall. How could his son be mixed up in all this?"

"He said he didn't know who he was, Ruska. Maybe he forgot."

"You could help me out," Lee suggests wildly, even as everything seems to sway around him with the gravity of a forgotten world dangling just out of reach. "You took my memories away, didn't you? Can't you help me remember what happened?"

But the woman grabs Arrluk by the shoulder, dragging him back. "Stay away from him," she says in a voice like steel. "I don't know what game that madman is playing, but it ends now."

And to his dismay, the door slams shut in his face, consigning him to the dark and the emptiness of his cell and the faint sounds of the guards' anxious muttering as their footsteps recede into the distance.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, the ache in his head intensifying.

Somewhere, between the guards' newfound alarm and the myriad disembodied memories crystallizing in his mind, lay a truth whose surface he had barely begun to brush. Whose weight had the power to change everything, if only he could reach it.


Katara slides to a stop as she reaches the small cave outside the city walls, doubling over and panting heavily to catch her breath as the crush of dark-bundled women peer at her curiously.

"Sorry I'm late," she heaves out, pressing a mittened hand to her chest.

"What took you so long?" one of the girls asks. Katara recognizes Woka's voice by now, picks out the upright squareness of her posture through all the warm shaggy layers.

"I got caught up," Katara answers through chattering teeth, cursing her headlong flight and for not dressing more warmly. The night was cold and the wind bit deeply at her joints.

"You weren't followed, were you?"

Katara shakes her head, but remembers to sweep the clearing behind her. Her telltale footprints disappear from sight.

"Let's get started," she says, facing the other women. Counts them in her head and frowns. "No Lusa?"

The girls exchange questioning glances among themselves. "She said she had a close call last night," Ikkuma suggests with a shrug. "Maybe she decided to stay in again to avert suspicion."

"Fine." She flings off her coat, shivering in the bitter cold. "Let me see your water whip. One at a time now."

The fattening moon trails slowly across the sky, its pure white light rippling along the surface of the water as it rears and slices and snaps through the air.

"Not bad," Katara comments, nodding her head in approval as Woka lowers herself back into a neutral stance, the water collecting into a globe hovering at the level of her hands. "You're hitting each form properly, but remember to breathe through them. Feel the push and pull as you flow through them." She stretches out her hand and the water floats toward her. With a deep breath in and out, she lunges into the simple snapping motion, the water lashing against the air with an audible crack. "See? The mistake is to think they're all different forms, when really, they're all parts of the same one."

Woka groans and shakes her head. "Just when I think I'm close to getting it, you say something like that and I get confused all over again."

Katara smiles at her before lobbing the water back. "Try it again," she challenges. "One more time, come on."

Woka catches the water with an uncertain rotation of her wrists. Katara watches the girl's motions with keen eyes, nodding as she inhales, tenses, and then lashes out with an explosive exhale. The crack of the water splitting the air echoes resoundingly.

"That was perfect, Woka!" Katara says, clapping her hands together. "Just like that! Once you master that, I can start showing you some more advanced sets, for example -"

The water dances in front of Woka's hands, wriggling into a jet before sailing upward into a graceful arc.

"Like that," Katara continues, staring nonplussed at the water's graceful motions high in the air above her head.

"Hey Woka," Bunik calls out, "how are you doing that?"

But Woka only shrugs in reply. "I'm not doing anything!" she calls back.

Katara stares at the girl's motionless form with a sudden plummeting dread. Then she glances back upward at the water, twisting in a ripple through the sky, over her head -

It slices down into the cleared path of snow leading back toward the city walls. Glimmering in the moonlight, their furs rustling in the brutal night wind, waits a silent formation of blue-clad men. At their head stands a slight figure, pointing straight toward her with trembling, accusing fingers.

"There they are," it gasps with Lusa's voice, sounding more terrified with each syllable. "Just - just like I said."

Everything suddenly goes very silent.

Katara watches as though in slow motion, the formation of men split to surround them in iron-drilled unison, pinning them off in the small cave with no escape. The faltering steps of the girls slowly falling in line behind her. And the grind of hard-packed snow under Hahn's boots as he stalks toward them, settling directly across from Katara with triumph radiating from his smug face.

The wind screams in her ears. Her breath puffs in small clouds against her face, betraying the rapid fire of her heartbeat.

"So," Hahn declares venemously, his soft voice ringing loudly in the night, "this is how Katara of Sivusiktok chooses to squander her very last chance?"

Katara opens her mouth to protest, unsure of what she could even say. "I -"

"I have no interest in the last words of a Southern exile," Hahn cuts her off with a wave of his hand. His gaze bores past her, to the women huddled behind her. "To those of you who have chosen to follow this...this woman." A strangely benign smile spreads across his face. "I'm sure we can look past all this. All you have to do is disavow the treacherous woman who led you all astray."

Katara swallows steadily. In spite of everything, they had been discovered. Not through some carelessness of their own, but because one of their own had cracked and turned them all in to save herself. She stares at Lusa's tiny form in the distance, the defeated slope of her shoulders, willing herself to feel angry, outraged at the betrayal, anything at all.

Behind her, a low buzz of muttering swells mutinously as in the distance, Lusa averts her tear-streaked face to stare at her boots.

"Lusa did the smart thing by cooperating with us," Hahn barks. "If I were the rest of you, I'd follow her example."

He doesn't voice his threat out loud. Instead, the formation of men surrounding them flexes at the ready, prepared at a moment's notice to strike.

Katara scans them all swiftly, weighing her chances. There were nearly two dozen men closing in on them, trained waterbenders of the North who spent their days drilling for battle. She was tired from nights of broken sleep and secret lessons, and if her outburst at Hahn's wedding feast had taught her anything, it was that her own bending could only go so far against her own kind.

And then there were the other girls as well. While they had willingly shared in the risk of participating in Katara's nighttime sessions, she still felt responsible for involving them at all.

With a resigned sigh, she sweeps into an offensive stance. A pile of snow leaps into the air before her, sharpening into deadly ice points glittering in the moonlight.

Hahn's laughter rings out loudly. "Give it up, Katara. You're outnumbered. You might think yourself the greatest waterbender in the world, but even you can't hold out against so many of my men."

Her mouth goes dry and yet, a strange sense of serenity settles over her. If she was going down as a traitor to her own kind, what better way to do it than to teach Hahn and his followers a lesson in the severity of underestimating her? "Maybe not," she calls back, "but I could still make them hurt."

At an unseen command, the men surrounding them take a step forward. Katara whirls as the space around her shrinks. The water splashes by her feet before several tentacles rise upward, snapping at any who dared come closer.

She chances a glance at the men's faces, wondering if she would recognize any of them. But in the moonlight, all she sees are identical masks and hoods pulled up to shield them from the bitter cold.

Then, just as the men draw breath, about to attack, a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention.

One of the girls dashes up to her side, brandishing a sizeable water whip that cracks in the night air. "Katara isn't the only one you'll have to deal with!" Woka shouts bravely - stupidly, Katara thinks frantically, don't do it, when -

Suddenly, there's a commotion of running footsteps and splashing water as more of the girls step up to join Woka by her side. Their voices ring out into the night in a bold challenge.

"If you want to get to her, you'll have to go through us too!"

"She's put more on the line for us than any of you ever did!"

For an instant, Katara can't breathe. Even in spite of the damning odds, a feeling of elated pride swells fiercely inside her chest.

Hahn opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, momentarily stunned before he laughs again. "I never imagined so many of our own women could be so stupid."

"No, what's stupid is trusting you and giving up on fighting for ourselves!" Bunik calls out. "You've felt threatened by Katara since she came here, and now you feel threatened that she's taught the rest of us how to waterbend! You can't stop all of us!"

Hahn sighs before shaking his head. "Actually, Bunik...I can." He turns on his heel, raising a hand in a signal to his men. "Take them all."

Katara barely has time to shout a warning to the girls before a shock of blinding cold pelts across her face.

She staggers back, frantically scrubbing snow out of her eyes as a handful of men set upon her. Blinking furiously, she sidesteps out of reach as one grabs for her. Quickly slides the snow out from under his feet and shooting forward.

She raises a giant wave, which charges toward the bulk of Hahn's men bearing down upon her. It grows exponentially in height as it crosses the short distance, rearing to a soaring pinnacle -

A concerted motion suddenly freezes it into a towering ice column, gleaming momentarily in the moonlight before it shatters into a glittering crystal shower. The pieces spin together into a funnel, whizzing straight toward her in a vortex of cold rushing darkness.

She braces herself for impact, deflecting the worst of the brunt as it collapses around her into a pile of snow. But the force of it knocks her off her feet, scrambling back on all fours, coughing into the drifting white snowflakes trailing lazily in the air around her face.

Gasping to catch her breath, she manages to roll out of the way just as another jet of water blasts the spot where she had lain. Springing to her knees, she tugs at the spray before hooking around and smashing it into the advancing body of Hahn's men closing in upon her.

They tumble to the ground, but another row of men steps in behind them, bending in unison to redirect the worst of her hit. She grits her teeth as the water splits into a handful of cresting waves rushing toward her on all sides, each bearing one of Hahn's men at its head.

With a furious motion that rattles achingly through her joints, she pulls the snow below her up into a giant whirlpool, ascending high enough into the air to avoid the oncoming waves. She teeters unsteadily with the force of the blows as the men crash into the base of her funnel. Fighting to regain balance, she struggles to reach out with a prong of water, trying to pick them off before they have a chance to recover.

But something strikes her right in the elbow, popping it out of the joint. She screams out in pain, clutching it to her body. The water beneath her collapses abruptly, gravity squeezing the air out of her chest as the ground hurtles upward.

She throws her uninjured arm out in a last-ditch effort. The small pile of snow catches her in its grip, absorbing the worst of the blow. But pain still rings shockwaves all along her body, making her dizzy when she stands. Her elbow sears with pain and she grits her teeth, cradling it closer to her chest as more of Hahn's men converge upon her.

Too many, she thinks desperately, turning one way and then the other to no avail. No matter how many she brought down, there were more of them, waiting patiently to strike while she grew weary from fending them off.

A small distance away, more of Hahn's men close in on the girls. Most of them have already been caught, struggling viciously against the gloved hands at their wrists. A couple still manage to put up a resistance. Ikkuma, recognizable only by her auburn hair spilling from her hood, lands a spiralling hit on an approaching waterbender, even as another jumps on her from behind and pinions her into the snow.

Meanwhile, Woka and Bunik manage to deter their opponents by fighting back-to-back, unleashing unexpected chaos with their newly mastered water whips. Even in spite of the pain shooting along her arm and the increasing number of men surrounding her, Katara can't help smiling faintly at the sight of them.

"That's enough!" Hahn roars over the din. "Ukiuk, stop messing around and seize those two upstarts already!"

"But Chief, they're just little girls," one of Hahn's men protests loudly.

"I don't care! If they're old enough to throw their lot in with this traitor, they're old enough to face the consequences!" Hahn's furious face seems to glow in the moonlight as he glares at the women. "Take them back to their homes and place them under constant guard! I want eyes on them every hour of the day -"

"But Chief," complains the man now struggling to bind Ikkuma's hands behind her back, "we're stretched so thin between the defenses and the patrols, we don't have the resources to put all of them under house arrest -"

"Then the prison hold will do!" Hahn snaps, stomping his feet into the snow.

Katara gapes, even as rough hands try to grab her by the wrists. "You can't!" she shouts. "Hahn! You can't imprison all these women -"

Hahn scoffs disparagingly. "It's time you woke up and learned exactly what I can do. I am the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. All of these men, all the warriors of the North, all of our chiefs...they all obey my command. Even our precious allies don't dare speak against my will." His flinty eyes bore into her, as though trying to freeze her in place. "And you're just a foolish little girl who forgot her place."

She swallows, finding her voice. "Leave the other women out of this. It's my fault, I convinced them -"

"No, I don't think so." Hahn shakes his head, chuckling softly. "If there's one thing I've learned from tonight, it's that this treachery runs far deeper than I imagined." He smiles unpleasantly. "You've forfeited your place among us, Katara, as I knew you would. But your punishment will be to watch your sisters suffer on your behalf, before you leave us. Permanently."

She stares hollowly into his triumphant face, the air sharp and cold in her chest, her entire body leaden and aching and spent. It's over, she thinks helplessly, watching the men bind the women's hands one by one and drag them along the snow back toward the city walls. Hahn had caught her red-handed, had her beaten and outnumbered and subdued. She searches the surroundings in vain, trying to find something, anything to fight back with.

Then, as someone tugs sharply at her wrists and she moves to shake him off with a violent motion, a voice shatters through the air.

"Wait!"

Katara's spine stiffens in alarm at the familiar voice. Her mouth drops as a small figure rushes toward them from where it had hidden behind one of the nearby snowdrifts to watch, mittened hands raised in a defensive gesture.

"Wait," Zuko repeats, sliding to a stop and blocking Hahn's path forward in the process. He plants his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. "Don't...don't punish her."

"Excuse me?" Hahn demands coldly, squaring his shoulders to his full height. "This is a matter of Water Tribe discipline! Who do you think you are to interfere, fire prince?"

Zuko's shoulders rise and fall from his exertion as he straightens also. He takes a step forward, inadvertently towering over Hahn and crowding his space.

"It's my fault," he says quickly. "I asked Katara to do it."

The blood drains out of Katara's face. "Zuko," she croaks, "what are you doing -"

"In the Fire Nation, we allow women to fight," Zuko barrels over her protests firmly, somehow managing to hold his head upright under the aghast glare she flings in his direction. "We believe in equality, and denying someone an opportunity just because of their gender...it just seemed barbaric to me."

"Barbaric," Hahn echoes savagely, his face twisting momentarily into a mask of ugly fury. "I see."

No no no -

Zuko ducks his head downward in a show of penitence. "I asked Katara to recruit the girls and teach them waterbending. She was just following my orders. If you want to expel someone for disrespecting your culture, start with me. Not her."

Katara's mouth opens and closes uselessly, utterly lost for words.

Hahn stares at him in an apoplectic silence that builds for a moment so long, Katara thinks she might explode from the tension lying thick in the air.

Until at long last, his face twists into a cold sneer. "So," he pronounces with an intensity that sends shivers running down her spine, "here I thought we had in our hands a woman who forgot her place. But that isn't true at all." He lets out a disparaging laugh, staring at Katara contemptuously. "Instead, we've just been dealing with the fire prince's prize pet."

Katara flinches as though cut to the bone.

Hahn dismisses her, turning back to Zuko with chilling geniality. "Since you've so graciously claimed ownership of her, she's no longer our concern. But tread carefully, Your Highness, if you try to do the same with the rest of our women."

Zuko nods wordlessly. There was nothing else he could do.

Katara watches, stunned in fury and horror as Hahn barks more orders at the rest of his men. They march off in a neat double line, towing the other women along with them, until they disappear into the distance and the city walls swallow them all up.

She doesn't know how long she stays rooted to her spot, frozen and aching and numb. Her eyes bore intently into the distant city walls rising like a challenge, now a fortress marking her for what she truly was.

An outsider.

Suddenly her vision blurs with hot unshed tears, just as the sound of Zuko's approaching footsteps grows louder.

He draws so close, she can feel the warmth leaping off him, just before he lets out a rumbling sigh. "Come on," he grumbles reaching for her, "it's freezing out here, let's go back -"

She pushes his hand away as though it had stung her. "How dare you."

Zuko falters, taken aback. "What?"

"How dare you speak for me like that!" she exclaims, shoving him back viciously.

He stumbles but regains his balance quickly enough. "I was just trying to help -"

She laughs darkly, even as tears spill down her cheeks, scalding at her frozen face. "Oh, you sure helped all right! All this time, all my hard work... and now thanks to you, everyone in the tribe thinks I'm just some Fire Empire pet!"

"Because of me?" Zuko counters, sounding hurt and angry all at once. "Katara, you were on your last rope -"

"So what?" Katara demands. "That didn't give you the right to barge in like that - you had no right -"

"Why are you mad at me?" he shouts, his voice ringing loud and clanging against the bruises lining her skull. "I was just trying to protect you! I did protect you!"

"I never asked you to!" she snarls, scrubbing at her cheeks furiously. "This was my fight and I was prepared to face the consequences. Now thanks to you, whatever's left of my people thinks I'm just a plaything of yours!" She gasps, the world swaying turbulently around her as she staggers toward him, consumed in fury. "They won't accept me, they won't see me or how hard I worked to get to where I am or any of that -"

"They never saw it!" Zuko cries, snapping at last. "They never saw it and they never will, and even if those jerks are from your sister tribe, they are not your people!"

The wind whistles shrilly in her ears, piercing the cold silence that grips her in the wake of his words.

In the corner of her eye, she sees him falter, as though he knew immediately that he had pushed too far. He reaches tentatively for her shoulder again. "Katara...Katara, I'm sorry -"

"Leave me alone."

He freezes. She wraps her arms fiercely across her chest before curling into herself, turning away from him.

She hears him suck in a deep breath, fight between saying everything and nothing at all. And then she hears the sound of his resigned footsteps, fading away until the city in the distance consumes him too.

Sniffling and pulling her parka tighter to her body in a vain attempt to warm herself, she tilts her head back upward to stare at the sky. It stretches up above her in a yawning expanse of inky black, the oblong white glow of the moon glaring down at her. Thousands of stars pass their silent judgment, glittering like the cold lights of Aujuittuq, and seeming perhaps just as far away.

The wind whips to a frenzy, screeching as it hurtles along the plains of open tundra surrounding her, threatening to flench her exposed skin. In the endless rolling slopes of white, she feels absurdly tiny, and immensely alone.

She trudges aimlessly onward, somehow both too afraid and too stubborn to lay down and let the cold take her. Her feet somehow know the way back to warmth and shelter, even if the city held no respite for her anymore.

Her tribe had cast her out. And she had rebuffed Iroh's overtures, lost her place in Team Avatar, and pushed Zuko away, maybe for good this time.

In a lifetime of loneliness, she had never felt so adrift as she did now.

Despairingly, she glances back up at the sky, wondering if somewhere among the cloudy spray of stars, in the abode of the spirits if they existed, the departed shades of her mother and father still watched over her.

She wonders if they could see her now, clambering through the snowdrifts into the small secret tunnel leading under the locks, or if the icy flurry of her self-destructive confusion had blocked them out, too.

And as she curls up into a small ball, dreading both sleep and the morning that would surely follow, she wonders if they would weep for her too.


But the morning that dawns over the Northern Water Tribe brings with it a horror of a different kind.

At first she understands little of the panicked shouts, or the hustle of the crowds packing in the shadows of the city walls. She doesn't grasp the tension of the sentries manning the parapets, or the hordes of warriors strapping on their armour, their painted faces gleaming starkly in the weak sunlight.

But she doesn't have to. Because as she clambers hesitantly out of the tunnel to find the entire city gripped in a panicked chaos, and glances upward at a sky full of groaning bison, she understands with a reflexive, primitive dread that sends her hurtling back to another time long ago, when she last stood in the ice on the other side of the world.

And the gentle snow that tickles her face was as black as it had been back then, promising the imminent approach of enemy ships, and all the destruction they held in wait.