A/N: I meant to upload this earlier but didn't have a chance. This is more of an action-based chapter, so if you're really sensitive to fights and violence, I suggest you tread carefully.
Chapter 44: Eclipse
Ivaneq, Amaruq, Ki'ma, and Katara stood beside Sokka, taking turns to subtly study his appearance. After much effort, Aang had managed to calm him down following the incident. There was no longer that black flash in the isumataq's eyes, and he wasn't lunging after Ozai anymore, but the glower on his face did not change. In the meantime, Hakoda and Kya had rushed back to the palace as soon as word reached them regarding what happened, and it was needless to say that Sokka's behavior put the Southerners in an impossible position once more.
According to the report provided by Ozai's healers, the Fire Lord's brother had narrowly escaped a permanent blow to his right eye. Well, both of his eyes, really, since the boomerang struck a particularly sensitive nerve that, if enough pressure had been asserted, could've severed his eyesight completely. Although he was spared of total blindness, his vision had nevertheless blurred. His head throbbed and ached, severe enough to send him crying out every few minutes, and he was at the point of nearly begging Agni for mercy and relief.
Such an incident, which everyone firmly believed they would never recover from, raised the possibility of Sokka's White Lotus status— maybe even his award— being revoked. And that, too, right after such a prestigious ceremony that took place in the presence of several world leaders. This award and this position were granted to him after several years of his hard work and dedication, and if they were taken away because of the isumataq's near-literal worship of the Akna... The Southern chief closed his eyes, weary with worry but telling himself not to imagine the ordeal. Spirits, how will I show my face in the South?
But Avatar Aang, ever the optimist, came to the rescue yet again and stated he would speak with the Fire royals, likely come to a compromise or settlement of some sort. It was a move that earned much gratitude on the Southern leaders' part; it would be foolish, after all, to think there would be no repercussions at all for the isumataq's actions.
The Southern leaders, unable to express their disappointment in words, mutely took their seats across from their son, leaning back against the tapestries and fearing Ozai's wrath. And it was this immeasurable disappointment of theirs and their refusal to hear anything from anyone following the news of the chaos that made it impossible for anyone to point out the significance of what happened.
"Hakoda—"
"Not right now, Amaruq."
"Dad, Mom—"
"Katara, we'll talk about whatever it is you want to talk about once we make it through this alive," Kya said sharply.
It took several minutes before Aang finally came back from checking in on Ozai. Hakoda and Kya stood up from their seats, and everyone— save for a still-scowling Sokka— turned in the Avatar's direction with looks of desperate inquiry.
"As of now, there's not much to worry about," he said to their surprise. "Ozai has been healed by the dronningi."
Sokka invested much more care in the conversation now, shooting up out of his seat, and Hakoda, who clearly noticed this, barely held back from exploding in the isumataq's face.
"The pain had been getting worse," Aang explained, "And the Fire administration was hell-bent on placing a lot of sanctions on the Water Tribe," turning to Sokka next, "Azula kept making a scene about kicking you out of the White Lotus and the conferences permanently. Everything would've blown up in our faces if the princess hadn't come to see Ozai's condition. She said she would heal him and that she had experience. In exchange, no sanctions would be placed, and no one would be vacated from their position."
"Don't tell me she took the blame again for what happened," Sokka frowned.
"Well...that was kind of her entire premise. She gave an official apology statement for unknowingly becoming the cause of the incident—"
"She didn't cause anything! Why did she apologize for things she didn't do—?"
"Listen, listen, calm down. She said that because she unknowingly became the subject of cause, she's willing to make up for it by healing Ozai. And she did. Ozai's doing much better than before. So much better, in fact, that many people said he's ready to come back to the conferences tomorrow, and in exchange, you and the princess wouldn't be allowed to attend. But the princess told them to take it easy. Ozai would have to refrain from straining too much for a few weeks at the very least, and it was recommended that he keep away from bright light for a few days to cool and soothe his eyesight."
"What's going to happen now?" Katara asked. "We can't be completely off the hook after all that."
"And the sanctions?" Kya asked further. "Avatar Aang, we don't have the strength to handle Ozai's wrath—"
"That's not going to be a problem. Ozai was clearly in the wrong here on several counts." Including humiliation of a world leader, breaching of ethical considerations, demeaning Water Tribe culture (obviously). And not to mention Azula's attempt at seriously injuring Sokka with her lightning and the resulting property damage that occurred when she missed her target, essentially presenting great danger to those who were in attendance.
"I don't know how you dodged that lightning, but I'm thankful that you did," Aang told Sokka. "It would've ended really badly had it been otherwise." With a sigh, "Anyhow, Ozai and Azula are also under close watch by the White Lotus. Keeping all of this in mind, I also issued my own warning to them. Ozai, in particular, has crossed several limits up until now, and I've been dealing with him very patiently, but if he is to misbehave in any manner at any event from now on, I will be taking his bending away."
Everyone gawked at him with mouths agape. Katara whispered, "Take his bending away? I-Is that possible? How did you even learn to…?"
"I trained with a guru once at the Eastern Air Temple," Aang explained. "He helped me master the Avatar State." And under the guru's tutelage, it came up in conversation that Aang was a pacifist and had no other way of dealing with potential life-ending conflicts other than working around them. After the airbender went through an extensive self-reflection process, Guru Pathik took him to meet a Lion Turtle, who taught the Avatar energybending.
"So did Ozai heed the warning?" Hakoda asked. "He's not going to retaliate?"
"Ozai knows not to challenge me," Aang said determinedly, folding his arms over his chest.
"You know, if you played this card beforehand, it would've been a lot easier, and this probably wouldn't have happened in the first place," Sokka raised his eyebrows.
"Don't be so ungrateful," Katara snapped at her brother.
Aang only gave a knowing chuckle in response to the isumataq's observation. "Yeah, I realize, and it's likely enough to keep Ozai in his tracks, but the princess seemed to be more of the saving grace here. She was also insistent on not financially appeasing the Royals this time."
"Did they ask to be appeased?" Amaruq asked.
"Azula demanded ten million gold pieces plus a weight of three hundred pounds in platinum. The platinum was to compensate for the incident, and the weight in gold was to compensate for the princess leaving in the middle of Zhao's meeting. The princess only apologized for the injury that happened. She didn't apologize for leaving the meeting, and she declined financial compensation."
"Thank the Universe."
Turning to Sokka, "The White Lotus decided to let you off with a warning. Yeah, Ozai and Azula are kind of in murderous rage right now, and it's best to steer clear from them. Zhao is ready to attack at any given moment if anything like this repeats. But Ozai has been healed, so the worst has passed. If anything happened to him, it would've been horrible." Adding carefully, "It would also be good if you gave an apology statement or something—"
"Forget it," Sokka glared, "You said it yourself. He was in the wrong here."
"At least sign a statement saying this won't happen again," Aang pressed, lowering his voice. "I know I'm not supposed to say this, but if you have a problem with anyone, take it outside or on your own time. Not at the expense of White Lotus professionalism."
"Fine," he huffed, "I'll sign the statement that says it won't happen again and that I'll keep my mouth shut, but I'm not apologizing."
"That'll work. Oh, I forgot," pulling out a scroll from the folds of his robe, "This is the Fire family's apology statement on behalf of Ozai and Azula. For demeaning Her Highness, the Water Tribe and its citizens and culture, for endangering professionals at the assembly."
"The people who did it should be the ones to apologize."
"You know how they are. Ozai and Azula aren't gonna apologize even if their lives depended on it."
"So everything is in the clear now?" Kya asked.
"Yes, Chieftess Kya. Don't stress out about this. We'll have Sokka draft his statement right now,"
Amaruq turned to his wife, "Ki'ma, you and Kya head back. We'll be there shortly."
Up until now, Hakoda had been patient, tolerating the hero-worship people were giving the princess and keeping himself from lashing out for the sake of his pregnant wife, but with Kya heading back to the estate, he allowed his anger to manifest in the form of a scowl.
"The princess managed to take care of most of it this time, but you really should be careful," Aang told Sokka. "You should've been careful from the start. It's not going to help your case if you're like this every time. You need to control your anger."
"Don't speak so highly of her, Avatar Aang. This all happened because of that Akna." Shooting his glare at his son, "We told you to stay away from her, and you deliberately disrespect me every time—!"
"You're just looking for an excuse to bring her into this!" Sokka raised his voice, warranting the attention of the people surrounding him.
"Excuse?! I don't need an excuse when the truth is right in front of my eyes!"
"Please, both of you, calm down," Aang stepped between them. "Chief Hakoda, this won't happen again, I assure you. Next time—"
"There won't be a next time, Avatar Aang. We are leaving tonight."
"You can leave if you want to," Sokka barked, "I'm not leaving the dronningi!"
"Dronningi, dronningi, dronningi! Is that all you still care about after all of this?! Because of you and that dronningi you love so much, we would've been out on the streets again!"
"She was the one who gave us everything, and she was the one who saved our asses now! You have no respect for her!" Sokka roared. "But I'm not like you. I'm not leaving no matter what you say!"
"Calm down, both of you!" Aang said again, much louder this time as Amaruq and Ivaneq each grabbed hold of Sokka, preventing him from launching forward. The airbender took a deep breath before turning to Hakoda, "I've done my best to ignore this issue, but I know that won't help the situation. Tell me, Chief Hakoda, are purity laws that essential to existence? Because we Air Nomads have lived through entire generations without even acknowledging that such traditions exist."
"I'm afraid you can't make that argument, Avatar Aang. It's not part of your culture, so of course you wouldn't be condemned."
"I didn't say anything all this time because I knew you'd say exactly this, but this is about my friend's happiness and moreover, this is part of my duty and identity as the Spirit of the Planet. I respect traditions, Chief Hakoda, I really do, but if certain traditions are on the cusp or have blatantly proven themselves to be fundamentally discriminatory, I will have to take a stand. The Air Nomads, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation...even certain Water Tribe groups...we have all lived for centuries without following your exact code of law. And yet, we're not wiped off of the map."
"I'm sorry, but I don't want us to have this conversation—"
"Because you don't have an answer to the facts he's spitting," Sokka retorted.
Ignoring the outburst, "I have great respect for you, Avatar Aang, and I'm grateful to you for your help. But this isn't something you would understand. I can only stand here and thank La that my oaf of a son ran into that sinner after we're doing better off. Otherwise, he would've left us to starve so he could go pursue her."
"Oh, so you're saying you visited the hypothetical future and saw for yourself that that's what I'd do?" Sokka snapped. "You're also saying this as if we worked hard to get out of the depression ourselves or something. It doesn't seem to ring a bell anymore, does it? Me losing entire nights of sleep for my country? Her Highness sending in hundreds of ships to the South?"
"If you were the type to uplift the family name, you would've stopped kissing the ground she walks on the day we told you to move on!"
"You do the same thing!" Sokka demanded. "Worship Tui! And you're proud of it! Why is this any different?"
"Don't you dare compare her to Tui—!"
"There's no comparison if she is Tui!"
In a moment of sheer rage, Hakoda sent his palm flying against Sokka's cheek in a harsh slap. The isumataq stumbled back, steadying himself, feeling the sharp sting of the blow on his face as Hakoda bellowed, "You will not insult Tui by comparing Her to heretics!"
Everyone in the room gasped with Katara and Aang grabbing hold of Sokka and pulling him away from Hakoda.
"Hakoda, what the hell?!" Amaruq boomed, standing in front of his nephew as he glared daggers at his brother-in-law.
"If only we'd disciplined him from the start, he would've turned out to be a respectable religious tribesman, but this is what we get for spoiling him rotten even in the middle of an economic depression!" Hakoda vented, his glare aimed for his oldest, "We might not have been able to treat you like a prince, but we gave you everything you'd ever asked for! Even when the entire tribe went around calling you a spirit-forsaken mistake! A gluttonous idiot! And now? I'm starting to think maybe the tribe had been right. Maybe the shamans made a mistake in confirming you as La."
Those who were present winced internally at the uncalled-for outburst, taking pity on Sokka. The harshness that had taken over the isumataq's expression softened in a brief moment of vulnerability. "So that's what I am? A gluttonous idiot? A spirit-forsaken mistake?"
Ivaneq jumped in with an effort to diffuse the situation, "Isumataq, he doesn't mean it, he's simply—"
But Sokka shook his arm out of Ivaneq's grip, eyeing Hakoda, "I didn't know you thought so highly of me, Chief."
"Sokka," Katara began, feeling a fierce tug at her heart, "Sokka, he doesn't mean—"
Not that the Southern prince was in the position to listen to anyone, for he ignored all attempts for solace and grabbed a piece of paper and an inked quill from the table nearby. Moments later, he slapped in front of Ivaneq the piece of paper with his signature at the bottom. "There. Y'all write whatever you fucking want. But it will not be an apology, and there will be no regret."
And with that, he stormed his way out, ignoring the calls of his sister, uncle, and friends. What would they need with a spirit-forsaken gluttonous idiot anyway?
The age-old saying went, You know you're a tribeschild if your blood runs cold during a moonless night. Sokka, though a skeptical being, admitted he couldn't agree more, for he was stricken if not for fear of his own life, for the life of the princess. The nightmare he had of the princess being in danger kept replaying in his mind, and the impending darkness taunted him. Disregarding his parents' orders that he stay within the palace, he grabbed hold of his white Gentleman mask, tucked it beneath his cloak, and snuck out of his room through his window. He darted away from the estate, keeping to the shadows as he searched for the princess.
He'd scoured the inner ring for an hour, having checked the palace— kitchens, storage areas and all— as well as the inner sector's grand temples, estate paths, bridges, canals, and sidewalks. The guards he'd inquired only told him that the princess decided to patrol "certain parts of the city" for herself, not having specified the exact locations but nevertheless informing the other guards to be alert. Ting Yun and all other assistants had turned in early, adhering to the night's partial lockdown the princess enforced for the protection of the capital. The tribe's defenses had been updated, too, for the night, and all benders were temporarily withheld from their duties while capable nonbenders took center-stage.
He felt the dread creep further over him from there, his gaze cast upward at the sky. The Water Tribe's beacon light was now officially blocked, rendering the capital as dark as a polar twilight. From afar, the restless cries of wolves could be heard. The winds were bitter, and the laws of bending were rendered incapacitated beneath the glare of the eclipse. Not to mention the thick atmosphere that blanketed the tribe with uncertainty, resonating with the tone of his nightmare.
He picked up the pace and crossed into the middle ring, the thump in his chest sporting a violent nature, but his frantic search came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the path he took to the Moon Temple. A secluded spot in the middle sector— a small nook beside an extinguished lantern-post— caught his attention for the way it seemed to bustle with movement despite an established lockdown. There were supposedly several figures wandering to and fro, blending into the darkness.
Sokka was about to directly approach them and unleash his inquiries, but what remained of the small sliver of silver light that escaped the overwhelming but incomplete blockage in the sky convinced him otherwise; the ray of light reflected off of something sharp and slick hanging at the sash-belt of one of the figures: a steel dagger, its blade out of its small sheath, indicating the wielder's willingness to use it anytime now. Sokka widened his eyes and stayed hidden, keeping his ears glued to the figures' conversation.
"I don't get why the Master would want so many of us to take on one woman," one of the men said. "Thirty men for one woman? She's alone, too. It's not like she has backup."
"She's trained," answered another. "She's highly skilled in fighting. Master Khasiq says we shouldn't underestimate her."
"But there's no bending right now. We're technically not needed. It's not like the other team is useless."
"Don't underestimate the princess," came the reply that confirmed Sokka's worst suspicions, "She could surprise us all. She did learn from Lady after all."
"Lady or not, princess or not, they're women," another tribesman brushed off the warning, "Trained, maybe, but they've got nothin' on us. Their kind is meant to rear the young, not chop heads off. Besides, isn't the entire tribe talking about how the princess is a spineless little bitch? Even if she had the ability to chop heads off, she wouldn't. Her biology isn't gonna let her, if you know what I mean."
Which earned nods and hums of agreement.
"Though I do wonder what she looks like," the tribesman went on, "There's talk that she's actually very easy on the eyes. Maybe instead of killing her like the Master wants us to, we could have a bit of fun with her." With a defiant leer, "Uplifting the sisters of the tribe, hm? We'll have to put her in her place. Let her know her kind is meant to worship us…" and the tribesman trailed off, having noticed a faint shadow among the slivers of light a few feet away, "Is someone there?"
"Who's there?" piped up a tribesman.
"I think I saw someone," the loud-mouthed man who noticed the shadow got up quickly and stepped forward, looking both ways from his place at the recess of the adjacent building.
"There's no one out here," another tribesman whispered.
"No, I saw someone just now." The man took the risk of stepping out onto the icy sidewalk, where the lantern-posts were actually lit. He went a bit farther down the sidewalk before catching hold of the shadow; it belonged to a black-and-white penguin-cat standing in front of him, watching him with beady yellow eyes.
The tribesman barely had the time to register the "false alarm" before he noticed that the penguin-cat wasn't looking straight at him after one point. Rather, it seemed to look at whatever— whoever— was behind him. The tribesman froze for a moment before instinct took over and adrenalin caught hold of the reins in his brain, but before his hand lunged for the dagger at his sash, a hand that didn't belong to him beat him to it, catching him off guard. The figure that towered behind him cast his arm around the man to hold him in place, swinging the dagger in a circular motion before it stopped short of his throat, the sharp end pressing against the skin at his larynx. In the reflection of the glistening dagger beneath the lantern's light, he saw that the figure behind him was sporting a stark white mask with a pitch-black dot on its forehead. The tribesman's eyes widened, afraid to swallow the lump stuck at his throat. "You're…You're that a-assassin who killed Kinji…"
"Where's the princess?" Sokka demanded.
"W-What?" suppressing a cough, "I-I have no idea what you're ta—AGH!"
"I know your group is following the princess," he snarled and pressed the knife closer to the tribesman's throat, "I'm not a patient man. Either you talk now, or this will be the last time you'll ever take a breath."
"Let me go, p-p-lease—!"
"I infiltrated a high-security estate and sliced Kinji's throat," Sokka reminded, "It won't be difficult for me to do the same for you. What's it gonna be?"
"P-Please, spare me...I-I'll give you all the information you need…P-Please, have mercy on me..."
A reluctant Sokka drew back the blade by a mere few inches, but it was just enough leeway for the man to shove his elbow against the isumataq in retaliation, trying to use the opportunity to escape. Taking a moment to move in the offensive instead of fetching his men, the man swung his fist at the warrior. Sokka ended up ducking and bending down to where he seized the opponent's leg and tugged hard, pulling the tribesman down. The man issued a cry but found it impossible to wriggle out of Sokka's grip or call out to his men, for the isumataq sliced his throat. The man fell with a thud against the ice, a strangled holler trapped within him.
"HEY! Who the fuck do you think you a—" one of the other offenders, who had heard the commotion, froze in place as he eyed Sokka. Dread slipped down his face as a trickle of cold sweat as he recognized Sokka's mask as well. "Y-You...YOU! You're Kinji's slayer!"
By now, the man's screeches had drawn the attention of the rest of the group, and the men came rushing forward, alarmed by what they heard. They jarred to a halt, frozen as the dimming lanternlight from nearby accentuated the Tui-esque mask and the figure that towered over their writhing group member.
"Stand down!" a man barked as he stepped forward, "There's ten of us against you. We have weapons. You have nothing but your hands—"
But he was quickly cut off with a strong jab to his ribs that sent him toppling down in pain. He launched himself back up quickly and swooped forward, this time aided by another tribesman, but Sokka sent his foot crashing against one's chest and made swift rams against the second one's pressure points, making him buckle to the ground. Another tribesman growled and charged ahead before he, too, was sent flying against the sidewalk.
"Should be seven of you now," Sokka glared at the offenders, kicking aside a fallen man's feeble attempt at reaching for his foot. "You can either tell me where the rest of your imbeciles are, or you can end up like your buddies over here," pressing his snow boot forward as a couple of the men in the back took a few steps backward, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
Instead of charging one by one, they uttered simultaneous grunts and yells before swarming forward. Two of the men demonstrated extensive potential with their archery skills, and Sokka moved swiftly to avoid the onslaught of arrows. He was very tempted to whip out his boomerang and ward off the arrows that flew towards him, but for the sake of not giving away his identity, he refrained from doing that, sticking to dodging instead. He did manage to restrain the archers, however, with a couple of calculated moves, managing to swerve and duck until he swooped around to where he was behind them. He grabbed their arrow-filled quivers that had been strapped around their shoulders and drew the straps around their necks, using the distraction to send them buckling down from slams to their pressure points. He then grabbed hold of each of their bows, using them to whack the heads of reapproaching offenders.
At that moment, an imposter succeeded in grabbing hold of one of the fallen arrows and jammed it against Sokka's bicep. The isumataq howled in agony, but the pain only fueled his rage. He tore the arrow out of his upper arm and sent it piercing through the leg of the man who initiated the move, bringing him down to his knees before he was kicked into the canal.
The next to go from the remaining batch was an overly confident tribesman; he was able to get a few punches in before a kick to the stomach made him double over and sent him sprawling over the ice, his hollers muffled in the snow. The isumataq's blazing form, though tense from the stab to the arm, nevertheless bolted forward, sending kicks and jolting jabs to several shins and backs, rendering them unstable to fight for at least a solid minute given the intensity of his blows. Deeming that direct attacks would be futile, two of the men attacked him from behind in an attempt to restrain him. A third man joined them, his focus mainly on snatching the warrior's mask away to expose his face and distracting him with dagger strikes to his back. Sokka didn't escape some of the cuts, but he eventually thrust his arms back, particularly his uninjured arm, purposely falling backward and pinning the initial two down with his weight, slamming his elbows against them. With a swing, he sent the lighter one of the fallen men and propelled him against the third, their collision knocking the two of them down.
"AHHH!"
"AUGH!"
Another man, thinking of himself to be clever, grabbed hold of a torch from the sconce on the nearest building. He waved the torch in Sokka's direction like a hunter waving fire in the face of a mammoth-bear. Sokka thrust his foot against the man's back and shoved him forward into the canal, the flame instantly doused with water and the rod of the torch sinking uselessly to the bottom of the canal.
It didn't take long for all lingering members to find themselves coating the snow with spittles of blood, disrupting the symphony of the howling winds with their screeches of pain and the cracks of a couple of ribs and sterna. Many years of their experience were dwarfed by the skills of this newcomer who bore the symbol of Tui of his face and who was likely to be a new opponent for Khasiq. One of the offenders, who ended up faring better than the rest in terms of injuries, cowered back when he saw the Gentleman, bleeding sleeve and all, taking swift strides in his direction. He grabbed a fallen arrow with his unharmed hand and pressed its pointed tip against the trembling man's chest.
"S-Southern direction," the man blurted out, "T-They were headed in the southern direction." He pointed to a particular route that led to the southernmost end of the second sector, "She w-was headed for the...the Jungqiran...Snow Forest…"
Twenty masked individuals, clad in Loyalist robes that they'd acquired from the storages near the palace armory, stealthily meandered from the corner of one glacier to another as the princess trudged along the path that led to the snow forest. The surroundings became increasingly dark and the sight of tribefolk scarce as the path leading away from the bustle of abundant civilization soon became deprived of tall lantern-posts to guide the way. The figures resorted to relying on the light that exuded from their portable ice lanterns, keeping their eyes locked on the lone silhouette of the woman clad in an indigo cloak.
The fact that she suddenly walked away from the patrol and left the actual guards to handle the job had come off as an enigma given how adamant she had supposedly been about patrolling the city along with them. The reason for her walk to the woods had also been unclear to the backup team that had lingered in the middle ring, but the disguised goons who were following her now had figured it out: she knew of their existence. She had sensed something wrong and was smart enough to deliberately lead them away from the city and the open tundra. There was no other purpose for them to tiptoe in the dark, they realized, other than to prevent themselves from being seen creepily following the princess. And the question that rang through them following that revelation was, How did she figure it out?
But it wouldn't be much of a surprise for those who knew Yue as Kuunnguaq and the many years she'd dedicated to mastering combat under Hama's tutelage. Yue wasn't so dense as to not sense the presence of watching eyes, the way the "guards" averted their stares every time she cast a casual glance in their direction during patrol. She didn't brush off the way they didn't communicate with her or the actual Loyalist guards, and yet they remained suspiciously close to her compared to the other guards. She hadn't turned in their directions once she had them mapped out in her mind. Never were the observations made with direct eye contact but with peripheral vision. And all she could think about as she continued patrolling and being the target of their stares in the accompaniment of her actual allies was the fact that the imposters were looking for some sort of break, some sort of leeway to either snatch her away or take the risk of attacking her in the presence of her allies. Fearing not the impending attack but the panic that would rattle the sectors and the lay tribefolk, she gave a terse excuse to Ting Yun about being needed elsewhere and broke away.
The timing had been all too perfect; by the time she reached the heart of Jungqiran and made certain that there was no other civilian there apart from the men who were following her, she set her ice lantern against a nearby rock. She rolled up her sleeves, basking in the relative darkness, the reality of the eclipse that blocked the moon's energy from flowing uninhibited in her veins. "Alright, boys, let's get this over with."
The masked men stepped forward, keeping their lanterns to the side. The leader of the group gave an interested leer, "Nukappiaqqat, hm?" Boys, hm?
He spoke in the Southern dialect, Yue noted right away. And yet, it seemed rather forced. The way the effort seemed minimal, almost as if it was an imitation.
"Oh, what defiant wonders await under that mask," the lead offender moved forward, "We've heard many tales of your bewitching beauty. Though it's unfortunate that you don't think we're men enough, great princess of the North."
"It seems there's no real man in the Water Tribe these days," she said. "North or South, it's all the same scenario, really."
"Too bad you think that way, really," he spat, nearly circling her, attempting to drink in what he could of the great mystery of the North. "If you didn't have such an extensive following, I would've had my way with you ages ago, and you would've seen just how much of a man I am. The offer's not totally off the table, though. The setting's perfect. It's dark out." Gesturing to the lanterns, "We even have romantic lighting."
A humorless chuckle followed, "Are you supposed to be the big baddie of the group or something?" she asked. "The typical villain in every Water Tribe play, aren't you?"
"We're simply doing what we can to make sure heathens like you who toss aside our purity laws are put in their place," the lead goon looked her in the eyes, ferocity kicking in, "You dare to insult our chief? Our prince?"
"Oh, so you're isumataq Sokka's fans," she said, not seeming to totally buy the explanation, "I didn't think he'd be the type to even look in the direction of people like you, much less appoint henchmen in the first place."
"Well you guessed wrong," came the retort. "You will fall at our leaders' feet and ask for forgiveness."
Raising her eyebrows, "And if I don't?"
"Feisty today, are we?" he remarked. "Well if you don't apologize, we'll have to finish you off...though it's always possible to finish you off another way." Crossing his arms, "How about a wager? We could say we finished you for good. We could always throw in a random corpse and say we did our job. No one knows what you look like anyway. And in exchange, we could accept certain services. Give you a taste of heaven."
She sighed with a look indicating she was nearly at the limit of her faith in humanity, "Anything else I need to hear?"
"Come on, Princess. What use is a whole-ass kingdom? Tiresome meetings, ungrateful cabinet members, the idiocy of politics, people spitting in your face for your spinelessness. It's all too complicated for someone like you to handle. You ladies are softer than flowers."
That brought about nods of agreement from the masked figures.
"This struggle and the strife that not even we men can handle. Who's it all for? These commoners that reek of misfortune? Besides, these people have disgraced your father and called him a coward his entire life. And now, he has nothing else to look forward to but the stench of intoxication. You shouldn't let these people ruin you, too."
She issued a glare at him.
"You've given up so much for them, but one day, they'll toss you into the streets and never look back at the sacrifices you made for them. But we'll give you the royal treatment, offer you anything you desire. Gold, jewels, some nice platinum ornaments to decorate that body of yours." A chuckle, "You'd be surprised how much time and money and value a man can spend on a worthy whore."
"I'm not surprised actually. People like you will go above and beyond to get what they want."
"Then you know the deal, don't you? There's nothing else we have to explain to you, is there?" he said as he ogled her, "So think carefully and choose well. Keep in mind," pointing to the sky, "It's a lunar eclipse. You're here alone, and there's twenty of us. We have our weapons, and you don't have the moon. And yet, it's not like you have zero assets that could be put to use. So do us all and yourself a favor and show yourself, Princess. Surrender yourself."
With a fierce glower of her own, "No."
"You know what they say," one of the other group members piped up, "Every bitch needs to be trained."
The goon in front of her, his patience now having simmered into a scowl, raised his hand in an attempt to deliver a blow only for her to sharply stop his hand with a firm grip and give it a sudden twist, making him yelp as she propelled him backward with a strong shove. Humiliated from being knocked down at ease, he drew a dagger out of its place at the sash around his waist and swung at her while another figure simultaneously launched himself at her. She swung her leg in a manner that startled the second figure and snatched away his spear during his fall, having tripped him at an angle where he slammed into the man who had fallen before him. The first man lost his dagger in the unexpected tussle, and both of their heads banged harshly against each other. Their groans of pain rivaled the bleating of the winds as they fell on top of each other, grabbing their throbbing heads. In retaliation, the rest of the men lunged forward at once with their spears pointed straight at her.
Yue rightly grabbed hold of the spear she'd snatched away and clashed it directly against the spears simultaneously aimed for her, pressing her weight against the spear in her hands to fend off the others and eventually shoving them backward, sending their owners backward with them. The spear in her hands had snapped from the struggle, and she tossed it aside, watching the attackers nearly fall into the snow. They were surprised by her strength despite their sturdy builds holding greater weight.
"Madam Princess knows how to wield a spear, I see," the leader pulled himself up, spitting a stream of saliva against the snow, "Isn't that cute?"
One of the figures towards the back of the group thrust out his club and swung it in her direction. She dodged them swiftly, managing to send quick jabs against his pressure points, blocking the flow of his chi through his body and watching him hit the snow, his club lying uselessly beside him. Another man brought forth his machete, trying to be more careful in simultaneously shielding his most vulnerable chi areas, but his attempts proved to be futile as she repeatedly dodged his strikes and tricked him into swinging at his teammates, moving out of the way just at the nick of time so that he could send the man beside him reeling back from the strike at his shoulder. Seizing hold of that moment of distraction, she jabbed at the pressure points in their neck, applying just enough pressure for them to succumb to the onslaught of sleep, drained of energy. Although there was a moment of reprieve given the men's surprise at her skill, another figure decided to try his luck; the princess ended up tearing off the sash at his waist and using it to tie it around one wrist, quickly swinging the excess sash around the foot he raised to kick at her, eventually swinging the sash around his neck to resemble a sling with one arm and one leg caught up in it. The man lost his balance and fell face-down from the compromised position.
The leader, who had taken the time to straighten himself after the blow to the head, approached her from behind and grabbed her by her veil, attempting to yank the veil off and simultaneously pulling at her hair beneath it. With a cry of pain, she used her feet to kick him in the shin, and as he buckled, she wriggled free and thrust the spear of the nearest fallen man through the fabric of his sleeve, keeping him pinned to the snow.
"Use more force, you imbeciles!" the leader roared, attempting to tear off the sleeve of his tunic while two more men pounced forward. They tackled her from behind, but she used all of her strength to push them off, her veil slightly ripped in the process of their grip being torn away from her. Her hair was still kept covered within its confines, but her face was exposed, her glare made obvious.
She really did have bewitching beauty, the men noted.
"Damn, this bitch is strong," a fallen man rubbed his back in spite of a flush that lit his face on fire.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to get the backup team," another man, lost in eyeing the contours of her perfect face, groaned in pain.
"Don't hurt that pretty face of hers, guys," another gurgled before losing consciousness.
"NO, you cowards! Lazy sacks of hyena-horse shit!" the leader, ignoring the lurch of heat in his lower belly at the sight of her, raged and finally managed to tear his tunic off until he was free from the deeply-pinned spear. Deciding hypothermia was better than the failure to capture a woman, he sent an ear-splitting war cry piercing the air as he leaped up and succeeded in grabbing sudden hold of her wrists.
"Strong-willed, huh, babe?" he spat before sending a kick to her stomach, sending her down into the snow. She grunted, barely swinging out of the way before he dropped himself on top of her. He proved to be quicker this time, using his weight to knock her down just as she was trying to get back up. His hand quickly snaked its way around her neck and squeezed, watching her eyes bulge from panic and the need for air.
"Not feeling too good, are ya?" he hissed before receiving yet another blow to his head, this time as she slammed her head against him with a heaving cry of her own, the severity of the headbutt ripping a mangled screech out of his throat. He ended up hitting the back of his head, too, against a bare Arctic oak, and the heathen was then sent sprawling onto the snow, knocked out.
The battle cries of the rest were overcome with shrieks as the minutes dragged on. Yue was continuously being pushed closer to her limits, but the maddeningly stubborn part of her still held onto her tenet of self-defense over the thirst for inflicting pain on purpose. She focused on her wit to have them fight each other for the most part, relied on her experience with weaponry to send a series of strikes and slashes of their blades, which she managed to knock out of their hands one way or another. She grabbed hold of anything she saw in the snow, any severed part of a spear she could find to defend herself before grabbing an intact spear. She twirled the rod with agility and speed, the spin acting as a makeshift shield to block the projectiles that swung in her direction. One of the clubs then managed to break off the whale-hog jawbone at the tip of the rod she'd been twirling, barely missing her hand by a scratch. She ended up falling back, panting with exertion and tension, but even then, she got back up.
"NOT TIRED YET?!" she screamed, stepping on a broken spear piece hard enough to sever it further, the baby blue of her irises inching towards a brilliant white, "Bring it on, then!"
There were moments when she was at her wildest, when the day's stress, the frustration spewing from hopelessness, the exertion and toll on her overworked body, and the pure, unbridled rage over the face of injustice manifested in her literally picking the men up in the midst of warding them off and flinging them over her shoulders and across the snow one by one. Several minds were blown by this point, some of the men remaining in the snow, gawking at the princess as she tore through the sea of attacks like a machine. The eclipse seemed as if it was stagnant, its progression agonizingly slow.
In a last attempt beneath the darkness, snatching onto the very bit of luck fate had in store for them, four men— the only ones with some amount of energy left after several rounds of strikes— relied on their brains instead of their brawn for their latest move. One of them grabbed hold of the swinging cloth of her veil from behind her and swiftly tugged it back against her neck in a tight grip in an attempt to strangle her. Her breath hitched in her throat, the fabric chafing against her neck and cutting off her air supply. Another tribesman took advantage of the situation and restrained her legs.
As she struggled in their grip and clawed at the fabric at her neck in an attempt to tear it off, the men propelled themselves against her and pinned her down, one insistent on keeping her legs from kicking them in the face and the other forcibly pinning down her arms. The grip around her neck tightened, summoning moisture in her eyes as she flailed to break free and breathe. The fourth man peered over her from above, resting his foot on top of her stomach and applying enough pressure to keep her from getting up.
Yue grunted through gritted teeth, her fingers clawing at the snow in attempts to grab something— anything— to distract them or wriggle herself free, but by now, the move proved to be successful in restraining her completely. Panic quickly began to cloud her thinking. Every pore in her lungs frizzled. Every ounce of her strength rattled. Her life force ached. Through bleary eyes, she saw that the shapes around her were becoming fuzzier and fuzzier, the sensations of her extremities dissipating second by second, leaving behind numbness.
"You should've taken up our offer when you had the chance," one of the crazed tribesmen bellowed at her, "And you'd have been out of breath in a good way. Now look at you. Dying without a name. A stunning face that's wasted on rebellion."
"It won't be long now," another taunted, taking note of how the dronningi was no longer struggling with as much intensity. "Just a few more seconds...Just like that..."
"Don't worry, we'll make sure you die a breached woman."
To stop the defiant flailing of her head, one of the men raised his hand in an attempt to send it slamming against her cheek, but out of the blue, a dagger bore straight into his palm, stabbing straight through the flesh. The man unleashed a shrill roar of agony as a figure yanked him out of the way. Before the men knew what was happening, a storm of a man sent kicks against their throats and blows against their skulls, knocking them away from the princess. The dagger that drilled a hole in the previous tribesman's arm now burrowed itself at the second tribesman's neck, the third tribesman's arm, and the fourth tribesman's side as the result of a boiling rampage.
Through blurred vision at the precipice of unconsciousness, Yue could make out a black speck, presumably at the forehead of a stark white face. A jumbled, choked chanting of Dronningi, dronningi! managed to bring a tug to her heart as the white-faced figure's gloved hands, previously stained with blood and rattled with the grasp of the blood-bathed dagger, dropped the weapon and immediately reached for the fabric chafing her throat, tossing it away. With the bloody gloves peeled away, warm hands cupped her face as her deepest instinct as a living being took over; she gasped loudly, her body jerking upward in his arms, air filling her lungs and coughs spewing forth. Her hands clawed at her chest in feeble attempts to suppress her coughs as she heaved in several breaths.
"Breathe!" Sokka cried, "Breathe slowly, dronningi!"
The situation became a whirlwind right then; Yue forgot about her surroundings and simply grabbed onto her benefactor, the rest of the world slipping from her as she basked in the relief of being able to breathe. She was grateful for the warmth of the hand that had started rubbing her back and was helping her sit up. And as the world came back to her, filling her with the promise of life, her vision cleared up. Through exasperated gasps, "S-S-Sokka..?"
"Save your breath," and as he peeled away the remains of the torn veil, she embraced the feeling of liberation that came with it. He was careful to make sure she wasn't seen, though, draping his hooded cloak around her. "You okay?"
She nodded, still trying to catch her breath.
In the meantime, the attackers felt their eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sight of the mask, at the face of Kinji's killer. With a rejuvenated fighting spirit, the fallen ones forced themselves up, targetting the Gentleman now. A dagger flailed in his direction, his gloved hand, stained with the trickle of blood from his bicep, caught hold of the sharp end of the dagger, bloodshot eyes peering from behind the mask. Sokka sent a powerful kick to the man's groin, paralyzing him for an excruciating moment. A second man managed to cut Sokka's other palm, but the injury wasn't detrimental to his move of clutching the tribesman's machete to use it against him, slicing his chest and arm. The tribesman screeched, pouring his life into his hollers, but not before his blood ran cold at the sight of the Gentleman's eyes turning a dangerous pitch-black. The darkness seemed to suck him in all at once the longer he took notice of it, but his frozen trance was obliterated with a blow to his head and knocked him down for good.
Another dagger swooped in Sokka's direction, this time aiming precisely for the pressure point at his neck, but a milky hand diverted the blow just in time. A panting Yue dragged Sokka away from the man, knocking the dagger out of the imposter's hands with a kick that threw him into the snow. The fire in her eyes was back, now a sizzling white to complement her comrade's darkness.
Before any further move could be made, distant voices belonging to several guards caught the attention of the dronningi and isumataq. The fallen imposters— those who were awake, that is— panicked at the sight of several Loyalist guards making their way in the direction of the snow forest, dragging with them a beaten imposter from the backup group who was mewling out details.
"Are you sure it was him?" a guard demanded the imposter.
"Yes! It was the same guy! He was the one who killed Kinji!"
"I don't know if we can trust him," another guard said. "He's likely trying to escape his sentence—"
"He's real!" the imposter choked, "I don't care if you throw me in prison! It'll at least get me away from him!"
Yue grabbed Sokka's wrist and led him further into the woods through a path that wound back to civilization without them being seen. The Loyalists soon approached the scene, rounding up the imposters, oblivious to the shadows that hurried away from behind the trees in the opposite direction.