Title: The Art Of Deception
Author: Lala-Ness (vivian)
Genre: Drama + Romance

Summary: Betrayal, conspiracy, rebellion - The tale of a love that can
never be, the alliance of three enemies, the downfall of the Fire Lord,
and the destruction of an exiled Prince's hope of ever returning home.

You like the new summary? I think it's much more alluring than the last one. Anyway, most readers who've been reviewing my writings should know me as the angsty, heart-wrenching kind of writer. In Love And War is a SokkaxSuki fic - a very funny, very cliffhanger-ish, and very "ohmygosh, why'd it stop?" fiction.

I figured there weren't enough Sokka-centered peices in the world. And I'm going into my Sokka phase. So take a look - even if you're a Zuko fanatic, and detest Aang and Katara relationships. I'm usually a Zuko/Katara or Zuko/SOTK (Someone other than Katara) shipper myself, but hey, change isn't always bad.

And fear not dear readers. Zuko, Aang, Sokka and Katara will appear soon.

Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender and friends do not belong to me. The plot,
however, is mine - along with any of the encounters and scenes that appear in TAOD.

CHAPTER FIVE
INQUIRIES OF THE MIND

The great building gleamed a fiery mixture of colors under the lowering sun, as majestic a force breasting the slope that reigned over eastern dunes and western marshes. The Royal Palace stood as it had for more than a century, a grand tribute to man's vanity and brilliance, in the very center of the Fire Nation's Imperial City. Markets pouring with civillians roamed about, still as busy as ever, even as the sun was visibly beginning to set.

Lanterns bearing Fire Nation symbols illuminated the tall, arched doorways leading to the inside of the palace. The tanned columns stood like soldiers guarding the wide veranda, but no one opened the enormous front door to greet her. As she walked closer, she could hear the crunch of gravel under her feet. Wind chimes tinkled, little notes of song. The smell of burnt paper played on the air, overscored by the light scent of freshly brewed tea. She moved quickly, hurrying up the steps, across the veranda, closing her hand over her dented helmet and entering the palace.

Not long after, Council Member Ryoto followed, the ends of his royal attire sliding ever so quietly behind him. His arms were folded in front of him, the oversized sleeves of his kimono cloaking his hands. He walked with a gracefulness that only added to Zula's list of hateful qualities. She hastened her pace, pausing only for a moment to order the old man to move his scrawny legs faster. Ryoto merely grunted, but did as he was asked.

Even so, Zula didn't bother to hide the satisfaction of power she held. As she reached her Father's chambers, the smirk had unconsiously transformed into a coldly polite expression. Without a seconds thought to whether or not the Fire Lord was in a meeting, she flung open the doors and stalked inside, her body stiffly poised, with her held held high. She was greeted with blank stares - and a pair of irritable golden ones.

The blank stares slowly eased into formal ones, each of the Noblemen of Ozai's court kneeling to bow to their Princess. "My lady," the greeted in unision. Zula gave a nod of her head and - somehow managing to keep her posture - turned to her father. It was not permitted to peasants of the Fire Nation laws to stare directly into the Fire Lord's face. Zula did so now, the small itch of fear only growing when she saw the dark glint that flashed in his eyes. With a quick wave of his hand, he had silently dismissed the courtiers so that it was only himself, his daughter and his personal scribe who remained.

"Leave us." His voice was deep, almost raspy - for he didn't need to speak very loud. The war chamber was dead quiet, and Ryoto hadn't needed to think twice before going on his knees in a bow. "Of course, my Lord." Rising, he gave Zula one last pithy glance and rushed out of the room, shutting the doors behind him.

Zula stared at the exit, wanting to grab the old man by his collar and burn him. Stifling a grunt, she turned to the Fire Lord. Lowering her gaze, she curtseyed before him. "You sent for me, Your Highness?" Her emotionless expression remained focused on the polished floors, waiting quietly for her father to reply.

"This is the first time you've interuppted me during a war meeting. So I will let you pass with a warning," Ozai told her, his voice low but firm. "Do not repeat this action." Not a question. Not a request. But a demand. Zula nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

"Your teachers have informed me of your improvement this afternoon." His voice rose now, switching from irritation back to his formal tone - one that she'd been accustomed to most of her life. "Do you agree with them?"

Zula rose from her yielding position, and crossed her arms across her chest. Her chin was lifted high, in a gesture that Ozai recognized as unquestionable confidence. It was a trait that he was personally amused by, for he had the same reaction whenever his own father had asked the same of him. "Yes, my Lord," Zula replied. "I believe I've ameliorated very much."

He nodded, just barely, but she saw that it was approval. Not pride, but simply approval. She was too aquainted with the gesture to be moved by it. "You seem confident for someone with your youth. But do not overestimate yourself." He had to need to continue, for he saw that his offspring already understood. "A boy of whom you will not mention in my presence made the mistake of overvaluing his abilities. His fate was a poor one. Do not follow in his steps."

Anger was simmering beneath the surface of her skin. Because she knew how to control it, the flames had not ignited. How dare she be compared to her brother? The fool who had practically begged to go into exile - whom she hated with all her heart and soul. And how dare he, ruler of the Fire Nation, tell her not to mention his name? She would rather him not be mention at all. She let out a quiet breath, tried to calm herself. She would not end up like her naive, foolish sibling. No, her fate would be much more appealing and with much more promise.

"Yes, my Lord." She all but grunted it.

Ozai allowed the silence to continue for moments before he dismounted from his throne, with his hands placed behind his back, and looked down at her. "The final battle against Ba Cing Xe will begin within a few days," he began, watching the Princess's brows rise in confusion. "As you know, the first battle ended in my defeat. This will not happen a second time." Zula very nearly smirked. Of course it would be his defeat, for it was his nation, with his guidance. And if a battle was lost, it would be his failure. The Fire Lord glanced at her once - quickly, sliently, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Thus, it will be me who will lead our nation to victory against the Earth Nation Capital."

"The true heir to the throne is in exile." Slowly, as if wanting suspense to thicken, he descended the steps towards her. "Which means that you will be asked to keep order until I return." He'd stopped a mere ten feet in front of her. "Do you accept?"

She waited, wanting him to believe she was considering the idea. But inside her mind, her decision was made. "I accept." Just as he expected, Ozai thought. How would royalty pass up the chance to lead? She would be considered more of a fool that her disrespectful brother if she had refused.

"Preparations have been made for both my departure and arrival. I expect for all order and peace to remain as so when I return."

"If I may ask," Zula inquired when her father had finished. "If a certain boy cannot fulfill his duties, who will take his place on the throne?" She asked it politely, almost respectively. In doing so, Ozai had not raised his voice. Nor did he deny her an answer.

"If an heir cannot fullfill his obligations, he has no choice but to pass his crown to the next person in royalty. Be that as it may, you are and foremost a woman. And women have a no place as rulers of a nation."

"But I can fight a hundred times better than half of the men in the army." Zula's voice had rosen, and she threw her hands up to emphasis her point. Ozai's fist ignited.

"Do not raise your voice to your Lord," he snarled. Zula lowered her gaze quickly. Angering her father would only end in severe punishment. "My aplogies, Your Highness."

"Women have no place as rulers of the Fire Nation," he repeated. "However, you will take part in all actions and or meetings. The man you marry shall be the one to rule fully, and completely. You may help in his decisions, but you may not decide for him." Zula's fists clenched. She should've expected this. The Fire Nation was, after all, an oversized nation with much more men than women "I see," Zula murmured. She could see, she could understand it - but she would not accept.

"But I -" She had stopped abruptly, for the loud knock upon the entrance of the room had sounded. Ozai's eyes narrowed just briefly before transfixing themselves into their usual state. "Proceed."

The door practically rammed itself open, with the figure of Ryoto along with an unfamiliar guest. Zula expected her to be a peasant, for she wore natural civillian clothing. Her face was pale, almost ghostly, and her hands were quivering. "My lord!" Ryoto cried dramatically, approaching the throne. Ozai responded with a mere lift one brow. "Terrible news is upon, us Your Highness. Horrible, just horrible."

He collapsed, breathless, to the ground in bowing position. "My lord," he paused, as if whatever it was he was planning to say was too ghastly to speak of. "It is of our honored General." A trail of babbling followed. is time both brows raised on Ozai's clearly irritated face. What was the fool mumbling about this time? "Speak of your news, Ryoto. Your constant babble is far from amusing."

Though his face could not be seen, Zula could almost predict a bead of nervous sweat crawling its way down his skin. She almost felt sorry for the old man.

Almost.

"It's of General Yakashiku, Your Highness," Ryoto gasped. "He is dead."

The Fire Lord's face was almost priceless from Zula's view. Very rarely did anyone see his truly angry side. His face had contorted into an undescribable expression. It looked as though he couldn't decided whether to be straight-off pissed or annoyed. She saw the clenching of his jaw, and felt giddy at the scene unfolding before her.

"Explain yourself," Ozai commanded, his voice becoming loud and demanding.

Ryoto jumped, but rose from his kneeling position. He backed away, urging the peasant behind him to approach the throne. She seemed almost paler than before, and almost collapsed trying to kneel. "She was found this morning screaming," Ryoto explained. "It seems that she's the General's grandchild and was on her to to greet him."

Ozai raised a hand, telling Ryoto to pause. "This is private. We will speak more of our discussion later on this evening. You're dismissed."

"But my Lord, I -"

"Leave us." His voice had a sudden flare to it, and she knew there was no arument to be won. With a final bow, she stepped back into the hallway, but she didn't go far. She smiled to herself. Perhaps her ususally mundane afternoon would turn out to be entertaining after all.

Back in his war chamber, Ozai had resumed his seat. "Continue," he told Ryoto. And so the scribe nudged the frozen girl. She didn't look up, for it was not allowed, and told her story. The Fire Lord's expression had remained the same througout the telling of how Yakashiku was found murdered. It stayed when she finished with tears staining her cheeks. "Do you have any ideas to who would want to kill your Grandfather." As usual, it was placed as a demand, not a question. Mariko shook her head. "

"Nobody, Your Highness."

Ozai nodded slowly, as if contemplating the next step. "We will do what we can. In the meantime, you will be permitted to plan out the details for General Yakashiku's ceremony." Mariko wiped the wet drops away with the back of her hand. "Yes, My Lord." From her hiding place in the hallway, Zula licked her lips. A murder, huh? It was then that an idea whirled it's way into her head. Still maintaining that natural stiffness in her posture, she gracefully made her way to the outside of the palace.

There was a certain Admiral she needed to speak with.

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