His father was gone, but the poison he'd left remained in the room. There was a bitter taste on Zuko's tongue and a heaviness to his limbs, as if something bound him to that spot.
Zuko couldn't bring himself to look away, his eyes glued to the door his father had just exited through. His heart was still racing. The smell of the recent flames still filled his nostrils. He could hear a noise through the rushing in his ears, but he couldn't make out what it was through the repeating realisation in his thoughts. It was like I wasn't even there.
The moment of self-loathing that thought brought on was pushed down as he realised what the noise meant. Recognised the gasping sounds of hysterical sobs.
Katara was crying.
The prince didn't understand. Why had Father said motherless? Did Father know something he didn't? That didn't make any sense. He had known Katara for months. If he didn't know anything about Katara's mother, then why would his father know? Zuko shook his head slightly before looking over at this friend. Uncle was crouched down in front of her, rubbing her shoulders and speaking to her.
When Zuko spoke, his voice was so quiet that he wasn't sure whether either of them would hear it. "What's going on?"
Not receiving a response, he moved closer and repeated his question. This time they heard. He saw his uncle's shoulders sag for a moment, before his eyes were drawn to Katara's distraught face. A moment of reprieve from the sobs as their eyes met. Rivulets of tears flowed down from bloodshot eyes, strands of hair plastered across damp cheeks. Another shudder rippled through her body and she crumpled back into a sobbing mess.
Zuko, confused, turned his eyes to his uncle, who gave him a sad smile and surreptitiously beckoned him over. Tentatively, he placed a hand on her shaking arm. At the contact, Katara squeezed her eyes shut, tears escaping from the sides.
"Katara, please stop crying," Zuko murmured.
It hurt to watch her in so much pain. Unsure what to do, he stood there and awkwardly rubbed her arm. It took longer than he hoped, but eventually the tremors running down the girl's arm slowed. Sobs dispelled into gasps for air, then finally became quiet sniffling. Katara raised her hands to her face, dragging them across red eyes and wet cheeks before dropping them to her sides and drawing in a shuddery breath.
Zuko didn't know what to say. He wanted desperately to know what had happened, but the desire to avoid dragging Katara back into tears appeared to be stronger. So, he waited.
Eyes still downcast, Katara's voice was quiet and rasping. "I'm sorry, Zuko."
"I don't understand," he said, looking to his uncle and back to the girl. "Why are you sorry?"
"I didn't tell you." Katara was still avoiding his eyes.
"What didn't you tell me?"
"Zuko, I don't think–" Iroh started gently.
"That my mother was killed."
Oh. Zuko peered at the girl, waiting for her to continue.
"I didn't, I couldn't tell you," Katara said, her voice louder but still dredged with sadness. She looked up at him. "Telling you-," her voice wavered, "seeing you look at me like you are now, it-it makes it more real."
"Why?"
"Zuko, you can't help but show your emotions on your face," she said.
"I do not!"
She started giggling, a tired, breathless noise. "Of course you don't, Zuko."
He took a deep breath, forcing his face to relax. "So, Father knows?" When Katara didn't respond, Zuko turned to his uncle. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"Zuko, I'm sorry. Maybe I should have," his uncle replied, "but this wasn't my story to tell." He reached over, squeezing Zuko's shoulder. "I knew Katara would tell you in her own time."
Zuko looked at his feet. He felt guilty at how frustrated he was. He shouldn't feel like this. Katara had lost her mother. A pain he couldn't imagine. If she hadn't been ready to tell him, he needed to accept it. She would have, he was certain of this. He pushed down the feeling of inadequacy, of once again being the only one who didn't know what was going on. This was not about him.
He heard Uncle sigh, felt the hand rescind, before the man pushed himself back onto his feet and moving towards the door. "I think I'll inform the Fire Lord that lunch is cancelled."
After they were left alone, Katara quietly apologised again. "I should have just told you."
"Father shouldn't have said those things to you. Why-why does he know?"
Katara looked at him with a peculiar expression, before answering. "Because it was a Fire Nation commander who killed her."
It felt like the ground had disappeared from under him. "What?" he gasped. "Why?"
"Because he thought she was the remaining waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe."
"She was a waterbender as well?"
Katara gulped, tears threatening again. "No."
"Oh," Zuko said, feeling empty as he realised her meaning. "So, he-they were looking for you?" She nodded. "They would have killed you?"
Katara shook her head, staring at her feet. "I don't know. They didn't in the end."
Zuko could barely hear Katara's shaky breathing. This didn't make any sense; the Fire Nation didn't just go around killing children. As he tried to remember what his father had said, something stood out in his mind.
"What did Father mean by snow-related trauma?" Zuko asked suddenly.
Katara peered back at him. "I collapsed the roof of our home," she said cautiously.
"On the commander?" he probed, receiving the hint of a nod in response. "That is impressive," he breathed.
She scoffed. "It's not like I could do it again."
He felt a small smile emerge, but something was still bothering him. "Why were they even there?"
That weird expression returned to Katara's face. She appeared to look sorry for him, an insight that made Zuko feel uncomfortable. "The Fire Nation has been raiding the Southern Water Tribe since long before I was born. That's why I was the last waterbender left; they have taken all of the rest of them."
"That can't be right."
"It is."
"Wha- No one tells me anything," Zuko exclaimed, his face scrunching up in frustration. Realising what he had said, the prince gulped and apologised. "I'm sorry, Katara, I- that is not what I meant."
"I get it. I'm sorry too, I know how much you hate being kept in the dark," she said, quietly, before reaching out and grabbing his hand. "I won't keep any more secrets from you."
He felt the stubborn grip on his hand, stopping the threat of exasperated tears. "Promise?"
Katara nodded, and smiled. "I promise, Zuko. Never again."
"I promise too. No more secrets."
"You will be fine. You're really good, Zuko." Katara's reassuring smile did little to dissuade the nerves bundling themselves into a convoluted mess in his stomach.
The prince grumbled. "Not compared to Azula."
"Forget about her," Uncle interrupted. "You're making yourself more worried. You ran through it five times earlier this week without one mistake. I know you can do that again."
The boy sighed. "Yes, Uncle," he said, before looking at Katara. "It's probably a good thing you can't come along."
"I could sneak along and hide in-" Katara started, before a glare from Iroh cut her off. "Actually, you don't need me there. It's not like I'll put your Father in a better mood," she said, drolly.
Her comment elicited a tired smile from Zuko, before he sighed. There was no getting out of this demonstration today. His father spoke to him briefly during dinner the night before, the topics of Katara and his uncle apparently off the table. But, Father had expressed interest in Zuko's lessons from the last six months, and the boy had been unable to miss the mocking smirk of his sister from her perch next to their mother.
A night of tossing and angry assertions spoken to the darkness had passed, and Zuko had snuck out early to receive some advice from his uncle and Katara. Witnessing a sulky, sleepy Katara had brightened his mood a little before the reason for his visit had been questioned. He didn't need to respond. At the look on his face, Katara had shut one eye and peeked at him through the other blearily, before collecting herself and telling him she would get up and meet him in Uncle's room.
The morning had flown past. Encouragement had helped temporarily. However, breakfast had arrived, and been ignored by the prince. His mood had slowly descended back into the previously anxious state. Uncle was now indicating that it was time to head down to the training rooms to warm up, and Zuko was grateful for the lack of food in his stomach.
A quick hug and an "I'll be here to tell you that I was right" from Katara, and the prince found himself standing outside the training rooms. His uncle had walked him there, but was not requested to attend this session. A few words of comfort, accompanied by a squeeze on his shoulder and Zuko was alone.
His sister was already there. He watched from the door as she moved through the end sequence of her warm-up, her movements precise and graceful. Zuko felt ill. No. Don't focus on her. He moved to the other side of the room, stretching out his arms. Taking a deep breath, he began his own warm-up, feeling himself calming as his limbs listened to his fatigued brain.
"I'm surprised, Zuzu."
Azula's teasing voice drawled off after the bastardisation of his name. He ignored her. Focussing on the movements of his arms, he tried to ignore the smug presence that had planted herself within his vision. Breathe. Through some warped luck, his sister didn't say anything else as he finished the sequence. However, that unexpected goodwill ended as soon as he did.
Azula continued as if he hadn't ignored her first comment. "I would've thought the waterbender would be here to support you," she said, before wincing sympathetically. "Or does she know how painful this is going to be to watch."
"Stop it, Azula," Zuko snapped.
His sister rolled her eyes at him, before leaving to return to her own warm-up. The vast hall was filled with the hiss of flames and orchestrated movement of feet. Ignoring each other, the royal siblings continued until the sound of the door ended their warm-up abruptly.
Their father had arrived. He moved through past them, towards the end of the hall and the platform emerging from the wall. Both Zuko and Azula dashed over. By the time Father had spun around to face them, they were standing in front of him. Zuko willed his hands to stop shaking. This was not the moment for weakness. He could stay focused. He refused to let his sister's comment upset his resolve.
"Zuko, you will go first. Let's see what you have learnt."
His stomach dropped. A moment of nerves, before he looked up at his father and nodded.
"Yes, Father," Zuko said, relieved that his voice held steady. Moving into the middle of the room, Zuko set himself up and drew in a deep breath. He could do this. Glancing at Father brought a returned permission to begin.
So, he began. Sinking into the first movement, Zuko flowed through the motions he had practised earlier in the week with Uncle. The flames that emerged from his fists initially sputtered, before holding steady. He ignored the initial hiccup, and continued to sink into the subsequent lunge and arc of his arms. The first kick felt strong, coming from a low position and circling around in a crescent. The burst of confidence that followed the successful movement carried through the next few strung together.
It was through the second jump that the first hitch in form emerged. A kick that curved outwards, flame rescinding as he extended. Zuko tried to regain some control and paused before moving into the next part of the sequence. This time the flames appearing from his foot did not form the uniform flow that was expected. Orange spurts sizzled and crackled from his heel before dissipating.
Gulping, he stepped back before trying the jump again. This time, he focused on the flame. Succeeding in the consistent stream of fire from his foot, Zuko misjudged the end of the jump, landing awkwardly. He stumbled before finding his feet again. Holding back frustrated tears, he moved into the last part of the sequence, finishing without any further issues. It wasn't enough. He knew he had failed. He walked back to his father, a frown now crossing the man's face. Holding his breath, Zuko patiently waited for him to speak.
"I was under the impression that we had tutors for you."
Blinking, Zuko was caught off-guard. "I do have tutors, Father."
"Have you been listening to them?" The tone of voice was stern, frown still etched into the man's face.
"Yes, Father," Zuko said, trying to hold back the threatening waver in his voice.
His father started pacing in front of him. Zuko wanted desperately to look away, to stop having to look at the obvious disapproval. "Shall I replace your tutors then? They clearly aren't training you well enough."
"N-no, Father."
"So, you have been ignoring them?"
It took everything that Zuko possessed to not gasp his confusion. Instead, he stayed silent while he summoned the courage to respond.
"Answer me, Prince Zuko," his father ordered. "Do we need to remove your tutors or have you not been training as hard as you could have been?"
A small gulp before Zuko answered. For some reason, the spirits had decided to side with him in that moment as his voice was calm and he did not cry. "I need to train harder, Father. I can do better."
"You will. No child of mine will embarrass me like this." Father was no longer pacing, dark eyes glaring through his. Zuko nodded, afraid of his ability to continue to speak. "Move over. It's Azula's turn. Maybe one of my children will have learnt something in my absence."
The rest of the demonstration passed as Zuko had expected. Azula was as frustratingly perfect as she always was. Spinning, gliding, lightly landing on her feet before moving into another arcing kick. Light as a feather in the air, but already demonstrating a power beyond her years. Zuko felt sick watching her, but the praise levelled on her after her finale was worse. His heart was pounding. Frustration was building behind a dam within him, one that desperately wanted to break free. He needed to get out of here.
Zuko couldn't even bring himself to be upset at the cold dismissal directed at both of them. Relief washed through him as he made to leave, following his sister out of the training hall. But as he reached the threshold, that same cold voice pulled him back, asking him to wait behind.
Zuko closed his eyes, before turning back only to be mystified by the amused expression on his father's face. He returned to his place in front of his father. He tried not to play with the seam of his pants nervously, instead clenching his hands lightly into fists.
"I heard you burnt the waterbender. Is that true?" his father asked.
"It was an accident, Father."
"Curious. I heard that her injuries were substantial. You would have needed to display a powerful fire to have caused burns such as those described to me."
Zuko blinked at his father. Was he supposed to answer?
"Maybe there is some hope for you after all, Zuko. You are dismissed."
Zuko nodded, turned and walked as quickly as he could without causing any suspicion. He kept his head down, even as he passed his uncle in the hallway. It wasn't until he reached his room, barricaded the door with some chairs and sunk onto the bed that he began to cry.
Zuko had tried to hide it, but he had seen his nephew's face. Iroh quietly groaned. It hadn't gone well then. He briefly debated not entering the training room. He wasn't in the mood to talk to his brother.
However, after his peculiar conversation with the Minister of Intelligence, Iroh needed to try. He needed more information about Taijian. Minister Ren had reiterated the initial report, but had looked increasingly uncomfortable when Iroh began to question where the sources for the recruitment had come from. There was no indication that the minister had falsified any of the advice he had received, but even Ren seemed wary about the verification of that information.
By the end of the meeting, Iroh had concluded that any decision regarding the village had been localised and based on a number of sources that could not be confirmed. The urgency of those reports and the swiftness of that decision had justified the lack of Palace input. He felt compelled to talk to Ozai.
His younger brother was training when Iroh entered, abruptly halting mid-flow as he heard the door. As Iroh approached, he saw Ozai's shoulders visibly tense, before releasing. Good. An unnerved Ozai was more likely to let something slip.
"What do I owe this honour?" Ozai asked, a sly grin spreading across his face as he regained his composure. "I'm sure you haven't arrived to spar with me."
"No," Iroh replied. His brother's eyes widened slightly at his tone of voice. "Ozai, I know there is something you aren't revealing about Taijian."
A small chuckle broke through the air. "That's an interesting theory, Iroh. What on earth would make you accuse me of withholding information?"
"Did you talk to the sources about recruitment to the rebellion directly?"
It was brief, but he saw it. A flicker of recognition passed across Ozai's face before the grin widened. "Of course not. You know that wouldn't be standard practice, unless they specifically approached me," he said, dismissively waving his hand. "Most of the information came through the usual intelligence channels, no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary."
"So, if I talk to your intelligence advisors, I would have no reason to be surprised?"
"Of course," Ozai answered. "I don't know what you think you've found, Iroh. But you're a smart man. I'm sure you will figure it out."
Frowning, Iroh circled around to exit the room. That had not been as fruitful as he had hoped. But he felt drained, and the continued presence of Ozai wasn't helping.
"I spoke to Father."
At his brother's words, Iroh turned back, raising an eyebrow in lieu of a question.
"You've really done a number on convincing the old man that your little waterbender should stay here," Ozai said, amused. He approached Iroh, hands openly splayed out. "I have to say, I am impressed with how much sway you seem to have."
"She is a child. Father can be reasonable," Iroh said, bluntly. "Not to mention that she has become an excellent healer, a skill even our Father agreed was of use."
"Seems an interesting change in tact from him. It's not like he had cared about the waterbenders, even the small ones, before this."
"As I said, he agreed with my reasoning."
Ozai scoffed. "He agreed with you. He doesn't care about the girl, he just wants to give his favourite son a plaything while Lu Ten is out fighting."
"You forget your place," Iroh growled.
"You forget your loyalty. You are the heir to the Fire Nation throne, act like it," his brother barked in response. "She is an enemy. We have been fighting to wipe them out."
"I'm aware of who we are fighting, brother." The last word was spat as Iroh felt his chi start to boil within his gut.
Ozai grinned in response. "Do you? Father instigated the raids on the waterbenders in the first place. What do you think they've been doing? Rehoming them?" he said, a dark chuckle bursting out at the thought. "Letting them live in a Fire Nation village with a little flock of koala sheep?"
"You've brought this up with him and he has disagreed with you. Drop it, Ozai."
"If you say so," the younger brother responded, in a sing-song voice reminiscent of their days as children. It was a tone of voice Iroh had heard from his niece in recent times. Stretching his fingers, Ozai stared at him. "I just need to wait. It's only a matter of time before she does something that brings her continued existence into question."
Iroh wasn't sure whether it was Ozai's cruel words the day before to Katara, the suspicion that he had falsified intelligence to justify an attack on a village or the blatant insinuation that Iroh was using Katara to replace Lu Ten in his son's absence. But the Crown Prince's composure ended. Two steps forward and Iroh stood directly in front of his brother, flames coursing their way from his fists and up his arms.
"Back off her, Ozai. I am warning you."
"Are you?" his brother replied, the amusement in his voice now spiked with uneasiness.
"You do not just get to torture her for your amusement."
The façade evaporated. Hatred blazed in Ozai's eyes, and when he spoke, there were no notes of entertainment, only dark sarcasm. "As the Crown Prince commands."
Both brothers stood a step apart, matching amber eyes glaringly fixed on each other. Ozai broke first, glancing to the side and Iroh stepped back before spinning on his heel to leave.
Ozai had always been light on his feet and a brief hiss was the only warning Iroh received. Ducking to the left, he felt the burning heat of the arm that shot past him, scalding his shoulder. Ozai readjusted quickly, balancing on his right foot as he twisted to thrust his other fist at Iroh. Iroh caught it in front of his body within both hands, stepping forward as he used his momentum to twist his brother's hand, simultaneously extinguishing the flame and forcing Ozai to his knees. Ozai swung with his other arm, letting out a cry as Iroh drove him backwards. He landed on his back, losing control as his neck whipped backwards. His head hit the floor with a sickening crack.
Iroh stepped over him, flames now surging around his body. His younger brother eyed him nervously from his place on the ground, wincing at the pain from the impact.
After a few moments Iroh spoke, allowing the fury to hang in each word, loud enough to rise above the crackling of the fire. "You've been away for a long time. It's weakened your memory of who holds the power here. But I've run out of patience. Stay away from her. I won't ask you again."
A week had passed since Ozai had returned. Katara hadn't run into the man since their first meeting, but tension had clung to both Iroh and Zuko in the following days. When questioned, Zuko had revealed the disappointment of his demonstration, Iroh a rueful comment about family catch-ups. All three had improved over the week, although each remained on edge. Grateful for moments of distraction, like the one they were enjoying that afternoon. Katara and Zuko were leaning back on one of the couches, trying to catch thrown grapes in their mouths. Iroh was reading, along with a cup of tea, intermittently frowning at the number of missed projectiles ending up under the couch. The children weren't exactly accurate.
"Did you want to do something for your birthday?" Zuko asked suddenly.
Katara almost choked on a successfully caught grape. "My-my birthday?"
"Isn't your birthday coming up soon, I thought you said it was just after the winter solstice?"
Katara gave him a weird look. "Why would you remember that?"
The prince's face coloured as he muttered an excuse. Katara giggled, before scrunching her face as she answered. "I just want to ignore it to be honest."
Zuko looked confused. "Why? Birthdays are fun."
"It's my first birthday in the Fire Nation. I don't want to think about it," she said quietly.
"I understand what you mean, Katara," Iroh said, placing his book down. "The first of any anniversary after a death often hits us the hardest. The loss of that person is more noticeable on those days," he added, smiling at her sadly. "But it will slowly get easier."
"I know, I don't know if I want it to though. After this one, I won't be the age I was when she was alive."
As Iroh responded with an acknowledgement, Zuko spoke at the same time. "But you will be my age," he said.
Katara looked up at his earnest face. "That's true," she said, with a small smile.
"Maybe you'll get better jokes?"
She rolled her eyes at his taunt. "Maybe I'll get taller?"
The prince scoffed. "Unlikely, you're always going to be ti-hey!" Zuko cried out as a handful of grapes were thrown at him. Katara giggled at the look of outrage on his face.
The moment of normality made her feel better. Time spent with Zuko, and with Iroh, had a tendency to do that. To make her forget for a moment all she had lost, and how precarious her position continued to be. But it was enough to keep going, to find moments of pure joy and to remain being Katara.
There's a room deep within the Palace that light doesn't reach. Stone walls encompass the dark interior, their rough, ancient surfaces providing an unyielding canvas. Walls that have always watched those who enter its enfolding grasp.
Not many knew of this place. It had been secretly built and integrated behind the walls of the Palace, here since the beginning. Visited throughout the years only by those few who knew of its existence, the knowledge passed down through members of the family anointed by Agni.
The room had been there when as a child, Crown Prince Sozin had discovered it, along with his friend Roku. The two boys would meet in secret, filling the room with their imagination, with illustrious battles and quests. They giggled about finding their very own Throne Room, one where Sozin could pretend to be the Fire Lord, a role he would one day fulfil. As they got older, they would spar in the close quarters. One day, the two boys had left a distinctive mark, visible only to those with the time and boredom to search the surfaces. Hidden characters within a criss-crossed frame in a bottom corner of the room. A symbol of their promise to remain friends for all eternity.
But all children grow up, and the youthful joy of the two boys soon departed, leaving the room alone again. Years passed, and the now-Fire Lord Sozin returned. Sometimes, the man would lean against the wall that held that symbol or stare at it, lost in thoughts. Sometimes he would yell into the dark abyss. Deliriously screaming about an Avatar. Sometimes he would write feverishly, alone in the room, descending into madness. The room was indifferent to this transformation.
Then one day, the cheerful boy, vengeful ruler and raving senior was gone.
The room had been abandoned in recent times. Waiting for visitors that never came. Maybe no one knew of its existence. Maybe the room was doomed to remain alone.
Finally, one day, another boy arrived. Alone. Dark hair, thin face, suspicious eyes that broke into elation as the boy realised what he had found. His joy brought back memories for the walls. The boy kept returning, always alone, but appearing to revel in his solitude. He grew taller, a stylised beard emerging on a face more strained as years of stress took its toll. Nevertheless, he continued to return and spend time within these walls, scribbling plans on parchment and practising his bending.
Finally, after many years, the boy - now a man - returned with another man. The thick sideburns covering the sides of the new man's wider face was in direct contrast to the polished look of the more frequent visitor to the room. But the room savoured the new arrival; more feet stirred its dust and more voices echoed off of its walls.
These two men eventually brought others. Even though the room couldn't differentiate between the new presences, their faces concealed, it was content to remain an observer of history. A time had passed since the last visit, but the room stood firm, always waiting.
No visitor had ever left anything within these walls, removing anything that had been brought down with them. Even tonight, it was laid bare. The people brought their own torches with them as they entered, hoisting them up and placing them around the room. Their heads were downcast as they shuffled into the room. The posture was strange considering their attire. Each arrival was hooded, their faces masked. To prying eyes, they would appear to be indistinguishable.
However, there were members that conveyed a quality that made them stand out. There was something in the way they carried themselves, the lack of nervous ticks that afflicted the other hooded figures. These members avoided the others, choosing to stand alone. One in particular remained close to the door, his masked face turned towards the entrance, choosing to ignore the other occupants of the room.
Shuffling feet and rustling robes betrayed a collective apprehension that their masks kept in secret. The only sounds were intermittent coughing arising from the inhalation of dust.
They were waiting. A member was yet to arrive.
A slight noise was heard from behind the door and the inhabitants of the room descended into absolute silence. Each mask was turned attentively towards the threshold as a final cloaked figure entered the room.
The figure took their place before the others.
The leader stood there for a few moments, observing the room, as the other hooded forms waited for them to speak. When they did, it was in a clear, magnetic voice, a voice the room had heard before. The mask was identical to the others, but the authority that the now-grown boy commanded could not be diminished by his camouflaged identity. "Circumstances have changed. We cannot move yet."
A member from the back of the room piped up, brashly asking a question that others did not dare to. "But your return has been orchestrated without fault. Why would we not move now?"
The statuesque individual who had waited next to the entrance moved to stand at the leader's side. The man spoke in another voice familiar to the room, that of the side-burned companion. His response was curt. "It isn't the right time."
The leader continued. "They would suspect the reason for the resurgence in activity if we moved now. The Crown Prince will be remaining in the Fire Nation for the time being. He complicates things."
Another member spoke calmly, words carefully chosen. "But has there has been a shift in the plans for the Earth Kingdom? Against Ba Sing Se?"
"Yes, it's inevitable. The Fire Lord aims to move against Ba Sing Se," the leader responded, nodding. As he brought his head back up, there was a small movement, a wince as he kinked his neck. "Iroh won't be able to remain in the Fire Nation forever," he continued, a wry note entering his voice. "Despite his current attempts to delay the path he is on."
"What if he chooses not to lead the siege?" Masked faces turned back to peer at the bold voice.
A chuckle responded the question, the leader being joined in the mirthless sound by the man at his side. "He won't have a choice. It shouldn't be too hard. We just need to convince either the Fire Lord or the Crown Prince himself that his presence at Ba Sing Se is essential."
"What about the girl? Doesn't she tie him to the Palace?"
The leader pondered the question for a moment, before answering, the humour dissipated from his voice. "You are correct, the presence of the waterbender ties Iroh to the Fire Nation at the moment," he said. "However, she could prove useful to us."
"How?"
"She is a wildcard. It's possible she could simply slip up. Her actions could change the Fire Lord's view of Iroh and his judgment of character," the leader responded. He shrugged, before spreading his arms wide and continuing to speak wryly. "If not, the bond between them could still prove beneficial to our cause. We don't have to know what her use is yet."
"So what do you propose?"
"We wait. We have time on our side," the leader stated. "The slow inescapable march to Ba Sing Se will be upon us. The opportunity we are waiting for will come."
The man to the right of the leader nodded in agreement. "We have time. We can wait."