**Reminder that events/scenes in different geographical locations don't necessarily take place at the same time, even if they are in the same chapter**

Destined to save the world, her mother said.

Master of all the elements, the legends stated.

An impossible duty, Yue thought.

The princess sat cross-legged on the colossal ice wall that separated Agna Qel'a from the rest of the world.

She'd been coming here more often than not despite the biting cold. It was calming in a desolate sort of way, a welcome escape from the royal duties she had all but renounced and the attempts at company she had flat-out rejected.

Yue knew the death of her mother wasn't supposed to grind her life to a halt, that she was still expected to be a member of the Royal family.

And now, she was expected to be the Avatar as well.

She didn't want any of it. Not without her mother.

The vast, blue ocean made Yue feel alone, which is exactly how she wanted to feel. Being with her people just reminded her of failure.

The soft crunch of snow resonated behind her. Yue scowled. She had told Minu and her guards to leave her alone back at the palace.

"I came here to be alone, Minu," she grumbled, not bothering to turn around.

A voice that didn't belong to her handmaid answered. "And yet it does not seem to help."

Yue looked back. Her father stood alone - a small comfort for the invasion of her privacy.

She turned back around to face the ocean, unimpressed.

Her father walked until he stood next to her, albeit keeping a healthy distance between them. "My daughter…I…I'm worried about you. The entire palace is. You're barely eating. Minu tells me you spend almost all your time either here or in the library. Your tutors tell me that when you do go to your lessons - and you almost never do - you leave aft-"

"What do you want, father?"

A few months ago, Yue wouldn't have dared interrupt her father. Then again, she also wouldn't have dared to do much of anything that was melancholic or self-destructive.

Her father sighed, and it seemed as if the ice around them sighed too. After a heavy pause he spoke again. "There's no one to blame for your mother's death."

Yue's brows furrowed. "Of course there is."

"We tried everything. We called in nearly every healer in the North Pole - one could've done better."

"I could have done better!" She shut her eyes to ward away the tears that threatened to well up. She hated this - hated being reminded of the fact that nothing could have saved her mother, hated being with someone right now, hated that even though she was supposed to be the most powerful person in the world, all she felt was small, weak, and worthless.

She turned to look her father in the eye. He looked exhausted - a product of the sleepless nights Yue knew he was having.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He didn't have to be told what she meant. "We wanted you to have a normal childhood. You weren't supposed to know until you turned sixteen - it's tradition."

"There's a war going on outside our country. That's not normal! And you - you and Mother kept me from learning how to fight! All because of your stupid traditions! " Anger ignited inside her, anger she had never felt before.

Yet her father looked unperturbed. "In that aspect, we failed. Or rather, I did. You are right, we both should've told you sooner and taught you how to fight."

"And only after the death of the most important person in my world did you allow it."

Her father stayed silent.

Yue refused to weep. She was not exactly a person prone to crying, but the last six months had drained her of tears.

"I wake up every day feeling numb. Like ice all over my body. I - I wake up in the morning just to go to bed. I failed, Father. As a princess, as a daughter, as a healer…and as an Avatar." She expected to finally cry at the words she said - but she just felt emptier.

A hesitant hand found its way to her shoulder and she fought the urge to pull away. "Yue…you're only twelve. You haven't failed at anything. We were only ever proud of you."

She looked into her father's eyes and found pleading, love even. But she couldn't bring herself to believe him.

Her father stood up. "Your mother loved you more than anything. So do I. You may grieve for as long as you need. When you're ready to resume training…or just talk, I'm always here, my daughter. Just…please be home in time for dinner tonight. And don't stay out in the cold too long."

He kissed the top of her head then left, leaving Yue alone with the ice, ocean, and her thoughts.

Azula thought it was going to be another boring summer.

Train. Humiliate Zuko at firebending. Impress Father. Avoid Mother. Humiliate Zuko at hand-to-hand combat. Read letters from cousin Lu Ten. Sit through boring tutors and court lessons. Humiliate Zuko with Mai and Ty Lee.

Such was the usual schedule for a Fire Nation princess - not that she was complaining. But in the span of twenty-four hours, everything had changed.

The first omen was the letter from Ba Sing Se.

According to it, Lu Ten was slain in battle, overwhelmed by the Earth King's forces. Azula didn't believe it at first. She knew he was one of the finest firebenders in the country, indomitable and invincible like her father. There was no way he was taken down by lowly earthbenders.

That he would never write another letter to her, or throw her in the air, or watch her practice her forms was something Azula refused to believe.

But then Father himself acknowledged the news and Azula was forced to accept it as true. She wanted to mourn him, to bear an outlet of sorrow but Father told her that emotion was weakness and weakness was a sickness that would only get her killed.

Father was always right, so she obeyed.

It didn't stop her from mourning in the privacy of her room.

Then Uncle Iroh announced he was lifting the siege. A waste, Azula thought. What did Lu Ten die for, if not for the glory of their nation? What did they spend countless men, time, and resources on? Pointless, all because of one man's misery. If she were in charge, she would have burned Ba Sing Se to the ground in her cousin's honor.

Azula decided then that she would never become a failure like Uncle.

Then came the audience in the throne room, where she humiliated Zuko one more time in front of their grandfather.

She didn't understand why he kept trying. Why couldn't he just accept that she was better?

Then she overheard Azulon's punishment, the horror of his sentence. She told Zuko the only way she knew how.

"Stop it! You're lying! Dad would never do that to me!" Zuko cried when she delivered the news.

Pathetic.

Their mother overheard, then extracted the truth from her. Of course she would care when it came to him, her darling boy, Azula thought. She never gave a damn about her.

The princess went to bed, uncertainty creeping into her. She loathed the feeling. When she rose with the sun, Mother had fled the capital and Fire Lord Azulon was dead.

Her mother's disappearance only exacerbated her uncertainty. Mother feared her, was disgusted by her, and the feeling was mutual. Why was she bothered so much, then? She knew her disappearance had something to do with Zuko's continued presence, but she didn't care so much about that.

Or so she told herself.

As the day went on, she got increasingly irritated by the uncertainty within her. She decided to suppress it, and further thoughts of Mother, by visiting Zuko.

"Leave me alone, Azula!" Zuko yelled when she came by.

"Can't I visit my brother on this tragic day? You're not the only one suffering, you know," she said with faux concern.

The irritable prince huffed. "Like you ever cared about Mom or me."

The accusation stung, but Azula was far too disciplined to let it show. "Uncle Loser isn't coming home for a while, not even for Dad's coronation next week. Cousin Lu's gone, Mother's gone. There's no one to protect you anymore."

Zuko turned away, wiping off the last of his tears. "Is that a threat? I don't need protection."

She shrugged. "I'm only saying it to make you stronger, to make you the crown prince you need to be. You know Dad's rule: every weakness must be purged."

Her brother spun around, then stormed towards the door, apparently deciding that he'd had enough of this war of words. But he stopped when he passed by Azula. "We'll see who's the weak one," he muttered.

There was a fire in his eyes Azula hadn't quite seen before. No matter.

His fire was never as bright as hers.

The weeks turned into months in the Northern Water Tribe. Although Yue spent less time indulging in the destructive habit of sitting on the ice wall for hours, getting up in the morning and forcing herself to do much of anything was still an eternal struggle.

Still, she was making progress, if progress was the right word for it. She wasn't even sure if she'd call it that - maybe "attempts at living" was the correct term. Nevertheless, she ate more, slowly filling in the gaps where grief had taken away weight and energy. She read, and slowly allowed for time with her tutors. Her father was patient - far more patient than she expected.

But bending, be it healing, combat, or everyday use, was still something she largely avoided. Any talk of being the Avatar was something she avoided even more. In fact, she just gave up talking altogether when it wasn't absolutely necessary.

It seemed easier that way. Especially when she could only ever think of her mother.

With every passing day she could tell her father was waiting for her to finally broach the subject of either Avatarship or training.

She kept him waiting.

Yue finally picked up the will to emerge from her silence almost six months from the day of her mother's passing.

It wasn't a manifesto or anything elaborate, just a simple request. She'd been sitting in front of the vanity as Minu brushed her stark-white hair, neither of them speaking a word. The last rays of daylight shone through the early evening, filling the room with a dim, pensive glow.

Yue looked at her hair in the mirror. Although she - or Minu, rather - kept it from looking like an owl-rat's nest through regular brushing, it had been several months since she'd put it up in the royal hairstyle she used to wear so often. Now it descended from her head like a blanket of snow.

She didn't know what pushed her to speak. Maybe she was tired of silence, of loneliness. Maybe she was reminded of how it was always her mother that brushed her hair.

"Minu-" Yue startled. Her voice was incredibly hoarse, a result of speaking minimally for weeks. She tried to clear her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Minu, would you - would you like to have a cup of tea with me?"

Her handmaid's eyes widened - clearly she had not been expecting any questions. But she recovered quickly. "I - of course, Princess! What type shall I get?"

"Oolong, please." It had always been her favorite.

Minu bowed, then briskly walked out to fetch the tea. Yue patiently waited, absentmindedly running a finger through her hair as she did so. She thought a bit about her handmaid, a loyal woman twenty-two years older than her. Minu was efficient and kind, with all the qualities of an excellent royal attendant. Yue had never known another handmaid, yet she still knew very little about Minu.

She returned in record time.

They sat on her bed and drank the tea in comfortable silence. It was obvious that Minu was letting her decide if they were talking or not.

Yue didn't know what to stay, so she commented on the tea. "This is…this is good tea."

Minu gave her a beaming smile. "Thank you, Princess. The leaves are from a new shipment, all the way from Gaoling, I think."

"Interesting."

They fell into silence again. Yue cursed inwardly at her awkwardness. She decided to say the only thing that was on her mind.

"I miss her."

Her companion's head jerked up at this. "We all do, Princess. And no one has more reason to miss her than you."

In the blink of an eye all the pain Yue had spent months warding off returned. It threatened to push her overboard, to send her into a downward spiral she didn't think she could fight a second time.

Just as quickly, Minu pulled her out without realizing it.

"I know what it's like. I lost my mother, too."

Yue was wrenched back into reality, as if an invisible spirit had grabbed the front of her robe and yanked her into place. "Wh-what?"

Her handmaid gave another smile, but this time it was sad and hesitant. It was clear she hadn't said this out loud in a long time, much less in front of royalty.

"I was fifteen."

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Minu. How…how did she…" She didn't know if it was something that was okay to talk about.

The older woman nodded. "It's alright. It's been a long time."

Minu looked out into the night sky, her eyes transported back decades. "She was murdered by her brother, my uncle. He'd always been a jealous, angry man - I wouldn't be surprised if he abused her when they were younger. When she finally left their village, not only did she find happiness with me and my father, but she became wealthier too. Well, obviously not wealthy wealthy, but we made enough to live comfortably."

Yue found herself hanging on to Minu's every word. Her handmaid was baring her soul to her - she deserved every ounce of attention.

"My uncle grew envious of her new life. One night, as my father was on a hunting trip, he slipped into our home. My mother, she-"

Minu shut her eyes. The princess was about to tell her that it was okay, that she didn't have to continue, but her friend opened her eyes and soldiered on.

"She defended me. She tried to fight my uncle and I tried to help but he was too strong and I was too weak. She told me to run and get help and I did…but not before I watched him slit her throat." She sighed, and Yue stared at her with new eyes. "We searched for my uncle for days. Finally, we found him, washed up on the shore after flinging himself from the cliffs. My father…he became a broken man. He was denied the vengeance we desperately sought, you see, and he died a couple years later. I left for the capital city the day after I buried him."

Yue truly did not know what to say. "Minu…I…"

The handmaid looked at her, the sad smile back on her face. "I know it's not what you expected to hear. But I want you to know that I know the pain you're going through."

Then, without any warning, Yue broke into tears. She sobbed and sobbed, the misery of the past year augmented by Minu's tale.

She felt a weight enter the space beside her, then arms wrap around her. She buried her face into Minu's shoulder and returned the embrace.

The tears fell for a long, long time. Minu never left her side nor removed her arms from around Yue.

"Do you still miss your parents?" Yue asked when the tears subsided long enough for her to speak coherently.

"Always. They've never left my mind."

She reached for a cloth to wipe away the tears and mucus. "How did you do it? I - I can't do anything anymore. All I think about is her. It's a struggle to even eat or pay attention when Father talks to me. I feel like…I feel like I have nothing left to give but grief."

Yue felt liberated, in a way, by saying these things. Not that it made her feel much better, but it certainly didn't make her feel worse.

Minu turned to look at her in the eyes, warmth and concern emanating from her expression. "In all my years of mourning, I've learned that grief is another form of love. All the sorrow you bear, all those memories - it's you carrying on Lady Kusuna's legacy. It's the first step in honoring her. You say you have nothing but grief. I say that's more than enough. Grief…grief is just love with nowhere to go, Princess."

The words hit Yue far harder than anything since her mother's passing. They lifted the cloud of suffering within her just a little and more importantly, they gave her a sliver of hope, a lifeline to hold onto. "What do I do with that - that love?"

Minu reached out and squeezed her hand. "Start small. Do what you and her loved doing. What you do is entirely up to you, and I know that whatever you choose, your mother will be proud of you for it."

She nodded, not fully understanding the wisdom of her caretaker but willingly taking it in all the same. "Thank you…thank you for telling me your story. I'm sorry it happened." Yue meant it - she didn't think she'd ever heard a tale so tragic. But it also comforted her to know that she had a friend who understood.

"Thank you for listening to it."

"Can you stay with me a bit longer?"

"Of course, Princess. I can stay as long as you want me to," Minu reassured her.

They stayed up late into the night, talking until their tea grew cold.

Other than the turtleduck pond, the Royal Library was quickly becoming Zuko's favorite place to escape.

Not only was it usually empty save for the Fire Sage who ran it, but it served as a pleasant distraction from both the torment of his father and the still-painful absence of his mother. No one bothered him here, and Zuko was determined to enjoy it as much as he could.

After one especially grueling practice, he found himself curled up next to the window, burying himself in his favorite childhood story. Or so he tried. It was hard to lose himself in it this time, given that it now reminded him of all the times Mom and Lu Ten had read it to him.

The day got worse.

A harsh, unwelcome voice interrupted his solitude. "Shouldn't you be practicing your katas? It would be a shame if you weren't...up to Dad's standards."

He unwillingly looked up to see Azula leaning against the bookshelves, watching him with her usual amused expression.

Zuko had finally had enough of her. "How did you know I was here?"

"Call it sisterly intuition."

"I came here to be alone. Go play with Mai and Ty Lee or something."

"But I thought playing with Mai is something you'd rather do?" Zuko couldn't control his sudden blushing, but thankfully Azula didn't push it. "Anyways, what were you reading?"

"General Zhing's Art of the Siege," he recited, remembering the last military text his tutor told him to read. It was, of course, a lie.

"It was The Dragon and the Fox, wasn't it?" The smirk on her face grew wider and Zuko wanted nothing more than to wipe it off.

"No! And even if it was, it's none of your business," he raged.

His sister rolled her eyes. "I can see the title from here, Dum-dum."

Zuko threw the scroll behind him.

He swung his legs off the ledge and drew himself up to his full height - which wasn't much, but maybe, he thought, if he pushed back against her enough she might leave him alone.

"Don't be so sensitive! I liked that story too - when I was five."

The backhanded compliment just made him angrier. He stepped towards Azula. "Leave. Me. Alone."

Unsurprisingly, his sister stood her ground. "Oh, Zuzu. Always letting your temper get the best of you. Remember last week when Master Seizo tested us? How you were so angry you lost control halfway through the kata? Wouldn't want that to happen again, right?

Zuko called his chi forth to bring a fireball to his palm. He didn't care if he was surrounded by scrolls and books, he just wanted her gone. Flickers of flame formed at Azula's fingertips in response, and she smirked once again.

Before either of them could act further, the sound of a throat clearing cut through the tension.

A servant, seemingly out of nowhere, appeared in the doorway. He was one of the Fire Lord's personal attendants, indicated by the gold lining on his shoulders and belt.

Azula glared at him. Zuko didn't doubt that if he were any other kind of servant, she would've sent a fireball at his face.

The man looked at him and Azula with a practiced neutral expression. "Your father has ordered both of your presences in the throne room. There seems to be a visitor harboring…significant news."

The last time Zuko heard "significant news", two members of the family died and two others - his mother, he remembered with another pang of sadness - disappeared to spirits-knows-where. "Who is it?" He asked.

"Yon Rha, the Commander of the Southern Raiders. He requested, with urgency, an audience with your father."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Azula's fists clench. "And? What's it about? Agni, you servants are difficult to talk to."

The servant, a professional through and through, was unaffected by the remark.

"He believes he's found the remains of the last airbender - and that he knows where the new Avatar is."

The Avatar was someone that required ever-present courage, Yue imagined. Not that she really knew - she felt like the furthest thing from the Avatar as she sat silent at the dinner table with her father.

The braised turtle seal they were eating was good, though. That she was enjoying the taste was a good sign, her father said.

It wasn't until the plates before them were empty did she voice her thoughts.

"Father. I...uh," she began. Yue winced - not a good start.

Her father leaned forward in his chair. "Yes, Yue?"

"Um, I'd like to...to go back into dancing," she said meekly. Her father's expression was one of intrigue and confusion, so she forced herself to explain. "I know I have to start Avatar training soon. But I think...I think it'd be good practice for me to dance first. And to - to honor Mother. She loved dancing. I think it'd be a nice thing to remember her by."

Chief Arnook wasn't known for being an expressive man, but the encouraging smile that spread across his face was enough to lift Yue's spirits.

Later that night, she stood with Minu in the palace's empty throne room.

She looked down at the gown she was wearing, and the cormorant feathers that decorated her hands and headdress.

"I'm very out of practice," she pouted at Minu. Already she could feel herself forgetting the steps she thought were drilled into her head years ago.

"That's fine. The beauty of the Yup'ik dance is that you can set it at any tempo," Minu stated with a dismissive wave.

The princess could feel her hands shaking. The feathers on her head suddenly felt as heavy as badgermoles. "Mother usually guided me through it. Now she's gone - I don't think I can do it!"

"Yue." She looked up to meet her handmaid's iron gaze.

Minu picked up her wooden flute. "The people we loved cannot be lost because they are always a part of us. Imagine your mother dancing with you. Hear her voice, her instruction. Let it guide you."

Yue nodded, and the feathers seemed to weigh much less now. "Okay. I'm...I'm ready."

The flute played soft, melodic notes that echoed throughout the vast hall. Yue tried her best to remember her mother's lessons, her patient, loving voice that tutored her through every stumble and fall.

And stumble and fall she did. Her body was stiff and out of shape, and the steps came to her in piecemeal. She felt awkward, like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. But Minu kept playing, so she persevered. She was doing this for a reason, she told herself, a reason worth getting hurt for.

Whenever she fell, she imagined her mother extending a hand to pull her up. Whenever she missed a beat, she imagined her mother encouraging her to start again. It must've been midnight when she finally danced without a misstep for a full minute, for the moon was shining high in the sky. Minu clapped, and Yue realized that tears were streaming down her face. She imagined her mother clapping alongside her friend.

Then the music started again, the music rolled away the tears, and she danced.

NOTES

- Not an action or plot packed chapter but I thought it was necessary to show Yue's grief and the depression that followed from ch2. The lines Minu has about love come from this quote which I quite like: (quotes/9657488-grief-i-ve-learned-is-really-just-love-it-s-all-the). It's helped me through some of my own grief.

- I also hope I did a good job in highlighting the differences between Azula and Yue both losing their mothers (and Lu Ten for Azula) and how their circumstances allowed them react. Rough lives, huh?

Next: the Southern Water Tribe plans and Yue begins her training. Ozai, to no one's surprise, is an asshole.