"What's a tsungi horn?"
Katara held back a snort at how quickly Zuko tensed at her question, colour quickly rising in the prince's face.
"A musical instrument. It's like a metal horn," he said hesitantly. "Why?"
"Iroh told me you were at lessons this morning," Katara explained, amused at Zuko's obvious reluctance to answer the question. "He said you're very good."
The boy scoffed. "No, I'm not."
"He told me that I could probably get you to play me a song if I asked nicely."
Zuko's face scrunched up in distaste. "Of course he would say that," he said. "Uncle's always trying to get me to play for people. I don't really like playing in public."
"Oh. It's okay, I understand," Katara said. "Just so you know, I'll eventually get you to."
"I'd like to see you try," he grumbled.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Definitely not."
Katara hummed in response and grinned at the grumpy boy. It was now abundantly clear why Iroh had thought Zuko's schedule was essential information to relay this morning. She appreciated the distraction. After feeling horribly upset for the last few weeks, successfully winding up Zuko was helping her feel almost normal again.
It was an unseasonably temperate wintry day. Warm rays cascaded over her face. She could hear the calls of adventurous birds nesting above the balcony and, of course, the sulky prince muttering next to her about stupid music lessons and traitorous uncles. Katara sank back into her chair and smiled contentedly. Moments like this were precious.
Speaking with Iroh had put some things into perspective. Emptiness at the loss of her family and her home seeped into her life, but she was trying to focus on letting go of her guilt at moments of enjoyment. Moments such as the one experienced yesterday, on a miserably wet Fire Nation day while watching Ursa beat a shocked Iroh at Pai Sho. Katara and Zuko had fallen back into the couch, leaning against each other as they both descended into hysterics, tears streaming down their faces and gasping for breath. Zuko made it easier to forget her heartache, giving her strength to throw herself back into learning her waterbending and her healing.
Progress was slow but constant, bringing with a renewed sense of self-worth and pride. A recent accomplishment had come from successfully streaming water around her hands - like a snake chasing its tail – after weeks of failing.
Grief continued to hit her in waves. Those waves were lessening, their impact not always as crushing but there were still times that it was relentless and all consuming. Still nights spent curled in the middle of a bed far too large for her, distraught at the realisation that her life would never return to the one that she had before the Fire Nation ship had arrived at her village.
She had written a short a short yet hopeful message to her father - one that mentioned that she was alive and well but was unable to come back home. It was unlikely to make her father feel any better about the whole situation, but at least he would recognise her handwriting and know she was safe. As safe as she could be. She had added a message at the end telling Sokka that she had her own room, hoping that the teasing might make him smile.
"Why are you glaring at me like that, nephew?" Iroh's arrival brought her back and she grinned up at him, her cheerfulness contrasting with the prince's surly mood.
"Did you really have to tell Katara about the tsungi horn?"
"Of course! You play it beautifully and I thought you would want to show off your skills to her at some stage," Iroh replied, winking at his nephew.
"I don't play it very well," Zuko protested under his breath.
"We can agree to disagree. I think you are very talented, Zuko," Iroh said, placing his hand on the prince's shoulder. "Surprisingly though, I didn't come out here just to sing your musical praises," he added, ignoring the expression of disgust forming on Zuko's face at his segue. "Instead, I was thinking that we could use your talents in firebending later this afternoon."
"Firebending?"
"I thought it may be time to get both you and Katara to use your elements together," Iroh explained. "You could learn to dissipate water and she could learn to extinguish a flame."
Uncertainly, Katara looked at her friend. "Do you actually think I'm ready for that?"
"I think so. It can't hurt to try," Iroh replied. Noticing her hesitation, he continued. "I won't let either of you hurt each other, I promise. Don't look so nervous Katara."
Katara's eye rolling was interrupted by the arrival of a servant at the entrance to the balcony. He bowed deeply before requesting a word with Iroh, who followed them back inside.
"Wonder what that's about?" Katara asked, resulting in a shrug from the prince. "It's going to be weird learning how to defend myself against your element…" she continued, her voice trailing off.
"Yeah, it doesn't seem quite right," said Zuko. A cheeky grin spread out across his face. "I guess it could be fun to beat you when we can actually spar though."
"Who said you'd beat me?"
"I've watched you train. I am clearly the superior bender."
Katara scowled at him. "For now, maybe. You're naïve if you think that will last for long."
"You can threaten all you like about the future. I will sleep well tonight knowing that you have conceded that I would be the victor if we fought today."
Humming, Katara kicked a foot out, finding the prince's shin and giggling when she received an outraged yelp in response. "Not really sure if I conceded anything but you are welcome to lull yourself into a false sense of security."
Throat clearing returned their attention to Iroh, Katara noticing the tension in his shoulders. "Change of plans, we are going to need to move our training session to tomorrow."
"What happened?"
"Your grandfather has called a council meeting," Iroh said. Their mumbling confusion caused him to explain further, raising a hand and slowly stroking his beard as he spoke. "It's likely that someone has docked for the night. It seems to be a fairly routine update and I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. I shouldn't be gone for long."
His words did little to dissuade the worry Katara felt at the general's change in demeanour. Iroh left both of them in silence, the jovial mood from their morning having abandoned them as they stared blankly at each other.
Iroh was not the only person wary of the circumstances leading to the summoning of the war council. The tension in the throne room was evident as soon as he entered, despite there only being a scattering of people who had arrived before him. He took his position on the right of his father's empty throne, which gave him the perfect view for the parade of apprehensive faces filing in to the cavernous chamber, including that of Minister Shan. The absence of his father was not unusual. It was customary for him to arrive once the other members had assembled, but Iroh was hoping for some indication as to what had occurred. He suspected his father had reasons for keeping him in the dark along with the others, but this thought provided little comfort.
It did not take long for each of the council members to make their way in, kneeling alongside the elaborate map spread out on the table between them. Their expressions made it clear that the urgency of the summons had not been lost on any of them. Surprised, he noticed a familiar face arrive. Iroh had celebrated General Kuo's retirement only a year ago. Confused by the lack of any acknowledgement from his old friend beyond the customary bow, Iroh started to slowly tap his fingers quietly on the side of the seat. Something was not right. He needed to calm the quickening of his heart rate.
The wall of fire erupted as his father entered the throne room and the war council reacted appropriately. As his father sat down, Iroh tried to sneak an assessing glance at the man sitting on his left. Iroh was not surprised when Azulon's face gave away nothing. His father had a gift for withholding all expression, a talent that made him a respected but unpredictable Fire Lord. This occasion was no exception.
The continued silence was stifling. Tension quickly rose in the room. Confused by the lack of reasoning for the meeting, Iroh decided to broach the topic. He addressed the throne room, calling on Minister Ren for an update. He noticed the man stiffen at the use of his name, the friction in the room unnerving even the Minister of Intelligence.
Gathering himself, Minister Ren stood and bowed towards the thrones. "Thank you General Iroh. I do not have a lot to add since our meeting yesterday; however we continue to receive reports of uprisings in the Eastern region of the Earth Kingdom. We note that there have been some developments in the last few days as mentioned yesterday."
Nodding, Iroh confirmed the details of yesterday's meeting. "You're referring to the standoff between Fire Nation soldiers and some Earth Kingdom vigilantes outside Baoju?" Out of the corner of his eye, Iroh noticed a faint twitch in his father's jaw. "Please elaborate on the developments, Minister."
"We had suspected that the rebellions were being fuelled from soldiers coming from a few villages in the surrounding areas. This information had been passed to me from sources in the field and relayed to the commanders in the area," Ren continued, dulled yellow eyes focussed on Iroh.
Minister Ren, formerly a highly respected General, was renowned for his acutely strategic mind and ability to reveal only what was required at any moment. His reluctance to cast his view on anyone else in the chamber suggested that Iroh was going to need to draw the information from the man. From his father's reaction, this was the information that Azulon was aware of and yet, Ren was holding back. Iroh narrowed his eyes at the Minister and nodded curtly at him to carry on with his report.
"This morning we received a report that a contingent of soldiers from outside the immediate area razed one of these villages as a result."
"Who was leading the contingent?"
"Colonel Mongke, sir."
The name was familiar. Iroh had met with the leader of the Rough Rhinos on numerous occasions. Ruthless, cruel, power hungry, with an apparent undivided loyalty for the Fire Nation. Iroh had always been suspicious of the man; he had long suspected the Colonel's loyalty was only to himself, the Fire Nation merely providing a desirable vessel for acting out his violent and unpredictable tendencies. Iroh would not trust him to hold back from an opportunity to exert a perceived revenge for a rebellion.
A thought struck him suddenly. Wait. Wasn't Mongke enlisted with- "Were they under orders?"
Ren's eye twitched, creases forming around his mouth for a second before the façade returned. "We have yet to receive confirmation of that, sir."
"Under whose orders?"
Ren broke Iroh's glance, looking briefly at the Fire Lord before back at Iroh. Iroh could have sworn he saw the minster's hands clench for a moment. "It is unclear whether they were under orders. There are rumours that they went rogue," Ren reiterated, grim eyes set on Iroh, boring through, willing him to ask the question.
Now certain what answer was coming, Iroh's stomach sunk. He still had to ask the question.
"Minister Ren, who was the commanding officer?"
Eyes twitching, the minister bowed his head, speaking in a steady and respectful voice. Despite his certainty of the answer, the reveal caused him to tense as he observed the council's nervous glances.
"Prince Ozai, sir."
Iroh turned to his father, starting when he realised that the Fire Lord was scrutinising his reaction. Without taking his eyes off his son, Azulon barked out an order and the chamber was emptied without hesitation.
"You knew?" Iroh asked. Pursed lips answered his question. "Why bring everyone here if you already knew what had happened?"
"No point in raising further rumours around the Palace. Your response made it clear that you were unaware of these events. The war council will be convinced that nothing has been hidden from them," Azulon said simply.
"You used me."
"Perhaps." The Fire Lord shrugged nonchalantly, cold eyes never leaving Iroh's face. At close range, the fury in their depths was apparent. "But if your brother is going to embarrass me like this, at the very least I refuse to let his bad decisions be aligned with me. Your ignorance to his actions was a good step in distancing this from us."
"Do we know he ordered it?"
"Does it matter? Either he ordered them or he lost control of them. Pick one and convince me that I should be proud of his so-called leadership skills."
"So what do you intend to do?"
"Call him back. If he's lost control of the soldiers, he is no longer useful in the field."
"You're suggesting we send General Kuo out to replace him?"
"Precisely. Call them back in. We need to prepare a strategy to shut down these uprisings before any further embarrassment falls on this family. Ozai will need to explain himself to me when he returns."
"Yes, sir," Iroh said. He stood, making his way down the stairs and striding across the vast floor, eyes trained on the door ahead of him.
"And Iroh?"
At his father's warning tone of voice, Iroh stilled and turned back to the Fire Lord. Azulon conveyed an omnipresent power worthy of his position, drawing himself up as he viewed his son through the flames. The fire separating the two men greedily flared at their master's emotion, betraying the previously concealed wrath. There were few moments in his life that Iroh had feared his father, but at that moment, he empathised with the witless peasants, traitors or offending ministers who had been forced to witness judgment passed down through the flames.
Steepled fingers pressed into the Fire Lord's chin, nails cutting into the vulnerable skin as Azulon continued. "I expect you to rethink your strategy regarding Ba Sing Se. Subjugation of the Earth Kingdom will be the only solution for this rebellious onslaught our soldiers are facing."
Iroh nodded, giving the only acceptable answer. "Yes, Father."
"While their capital stands, hope will remain. Without hope, the Earth Kingdom will fall."
The sun had risen.
Delicate bird whistles and the rustlings of small animals reached his ears. The fresh scent of dew filled his nose, and the calm of the moment was palpable. The dawning of a new day.
A mockery of what occurred during the night.
The boy crouched beneath the shrub, curled up in the same position he had stayed since he had fled the town. After stumbling through the forest, trying to avoid the search of those men and their monstrous beasts they rode atop, his legs had given out and he had thrown himself into the nearest source of shelter. His back ached, his legs had lost feeling hours ago, but the terror that flowed through him urged the muscles to remain tensed.
Ready to move again. Ready to run.
Blinking eyes heavy from fatigue, the boy unclenched his hand slowly, wincing at the pain that shot up his arm at the foreign movement. He placed the hand over an empty and grumbling stomach, pressing his eyes shut at the wave of nausea that ran through him.
As the day slowly passed and the lack of unfamiliar sounds emboldened him, the boy dozed in and out of a hazy sleep, each time waking to an increasingly stiffened and aching body. Eventually he emerged from a restless dream to the sound of bustling animals, the sight of dimmed light, a forest preparing itself for the night. Painfully, he shifted himself into a seated position, sluggishly stretching out each limb before pushing himself to his feet.
Willing himself to leave his haven and afraid to lose the light, the boy stepped out from the bush. Grimacing at his lethargic muscles, he moved through the trees, hesitating at moments to strain his ears, trying to hear any semblance of their return. Each time he only picked up the usual sounds of the woodland. Distracted by his continued alarm, he tripped over a large branch, sprawling over the forest floor. Pressing scraped and bleeding hands into the bracken below him, he grabbed the branch as he regained his footing.
As he reached the hill that led to his village, the heat struck him like a wave. His dry eyes stung and his breath caught in his throat. Even a day later, the air was suffocating. He felt beads of sweat forming along his hairline, dampening the strands of hair falling across his face. A shaky breath before the boy shut his eyes, clenching his fists as he steeled himself.
The fire was gone. The desolation spread in front of him seemed removed from the inferno that had blazed the night before. Blackened skeletons were all that remained of the first houses as he descended the hill; the ground was warm, but not warm enough to stop him. Blankets of soot covered his view, layering across the once-familiar path into his village.
Mouth dry, the boy dragged his stick through the still warmed ash as he staggered through the remnants of his village, moving slowly towards his destination. As he reached the wreckage of his home, the threatening tears spilled over, tracking sooty trails down his face. Jagged spikes from the supporting walls were all that remained of the front room, the roof having caved in on itself from the destruction of the flames.
A painful sob escaped him at a stark realisation. No one could have gotten out.
He had no idea how long he stood there. Slowly realising his hand still encircled the stick, the boy moved the piercing end through the amassed soot stretched across what used to be the front of his home. Tracing the one thing that remained of them.
Shakily looped letters. Two names.
Gulping, he looked at the names, rivets flowing down his face. He dashed an angry hand across them, smearing the tears and the soot, blurring his vision.
It's not right. He was supposed to be with them. They were supposed to be together.
Why weren't they together?
The gravity of being left alone hit him, racking his body with spasms as he gasped for air. No longer having the strength to wipe his face, the tears flowed freely through the ash, blood and grime.
Eyelashes heavy, he slowly drew a third name below them. His own name. A gasping laugh escaped his lips. This looked better. This felt right. This is how it should have been.
He couldn't turn away. To do so would be to leave them. He didn't want to leave them. The moon shone an eerie glow upon the scene as the boy stood there. He stared blankly at the names, unable to tear his eyes from the remaining symbol of his family being together. Reading those names over and over again, almost as if he could will them into living.
Mom.
Dad.
Jet.