This is a grittier story than I've ever written so far for A:TLA. The main OC is older than the main cast by two years and has fought directly in the war. There are some topics and themes within this story, including references to prolonged sexual assault (not of a main character if that matters) that some more sensitive readers might shy away from. Take from that what you will. You have been warned. That's not to say there's none of the typical A:TLA humor. Some of it might be a bit raunchier and explicit here and there, but there will still be plenty of it. Plus, Zuko being awkward AF is its own entertainment. OC also hates taking most things too seriously, including herself, so there's that too. Should be an interesting combo, no? Let's find out together.


Black Jade

CHAPTER ONE

The Agni Kai

Daiyu's sense of humor always kicked in at the worst possible moments.

This time it happened when the cranky crown prince knocked her father on his arrogant ass.

She supposed it was long overdue. This austere harbor was hardly the place for laughter, after all. It was downright depressing, in fact—not to mention boring. Daiyu almost missed being on the front lines. She'd take a blockade of Earth Kingdom ships any day of the week in comparison to this dull monotony. It had been like this ever since her father was promoted to commander, and she knew he felt the boredom sinking in too. Of course, he was too pleased with his fancy new station to ever complain about it out loud, and though no one could ever say her father took no joy in pontifying, actions always did speak louder than words...

The moment the prince pulled into the harbor, he was on him like weevil-mice on rice.

And it's not like Daiyu could blame him; the prince was the most entertaining thing to happen in this harbor since they'd been stationed in this miserable place. Zuko always was good for a few laughs, in her experience. Nothing like one would expect of royalty, bumbling and awkward as he was. She'd always thought of him as a royal clown, much to Princess Azula's amusement. Even now, though he'd lost that softness he always had about him, replaced with something hard and angry that was more than a little fascinating on him, Daiyu still thought she saw that same core of awkwardness shining through. It was startling how endearing and nostalgic she found it, and though he sneered at her, she found herself returning the scorn with genuine cheer, and greeting the prince with a sincere smile—something that was rarer than chicken-lizard teeth. She thought the last time she smiled like that had been at her mother—and that was years ago.

"It's good to see you again," she had said, and meant it.

As his stupid expression slowly morphed into intense suspicion, his uncle greeted her, "Ah, little Daiyu, isn't it? Not so little anymore, are you? You're growing into quite the beauty!"

"I know!" she quipped back, her grin curdling with sickly sweet sarcasm. "It's bizarre, isn't it? All things considered, I mean, it's not like I won the genetic lottery or anything..."

She made an exaggerated show of stroking imaginary sideburns, drawing a loud guffaw out of General Iroh.

Judging by her father's burning glower, she was going to pay dearly for that remark later. He was quite the narcissist, and even the slightest blow to his pride wasn't a thing he took lightly. But Daiyu was becoming more and more desensitized to her father's punishments over time. Verbal disparagement had lost its bite, and physical toil was something she had long become used to as she raced up the naval ranks. Being the daughter of a nobleman helped in the respect that it opened a lot of doors and greased the gears of promotion, but that's not to say she didn't have to earn it. Not at all. It was only after being reassigned to her father's regiment that she started moving up the ranks at all. He had...methods that inspired her cooperation, whether it was just by virtue of simply being her father, or a strategic implementing of the proper threats. Daiyu found it...maybe not 'easier' to function under his leadership, but perhaps 'properly motivating' was the right wording.

Then again, maybe that was just because every other commander she'd worked under was a bona fide pussy.

She couldn't work under someone she had no respect for. And though what she had for her father could hardly constitute respect, she did acknowledge and abide by his orders.

Most of the time, anyway.

"You should be kinder to your poor father," the general chastised her with a good-natured grin. "You might hurt his feelings."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she laughed, patting her father's shoulder. She was rewarded with another simmering glower. "Feelings! Ha! Not in this family!"

"Are toxic rage and passive aggression still feelings?" the prince asked his uncle quietly, but not quietly enough.

"Loyalty and honor might also be considered feelings, Prince Zuko," said her father with a pointed glint to his amber eyes, clapping a hand on Daiyu's shoulder with much more force than she'd exerted towards him. She was sure to keep her face purposefully blank as he squeezed hard enough to stress her collarbone beneath the dark leather arm cops of her armor. "Feelings my daughter and myself possess in gratuitous quantities, no matter how much she likes to joke..."

Daiyu knew with certainty that she was in for it then, as her father invited the prince and the general into his pavilion for a drink. It was past the point of punishment at this rate and had moved into the territory of father-daughter revenge. They didn't exactly do the father-daughter 'bonding' thing, but for a complete lack of entertainment in the form of their typical naval skirmishes with the Earth Kingdom, Daiyu and her father had turned to tormenting each other. It was a razor-sharp edge they danced on, like playing a game of chicken-lizard in seeing who could push whom the furthest and still stay just within the lines of acceptable behavior. It was a subtle, poisonous sort of game they had always played, ever since Daiyu could remember. She would push her luck, and her father would give just as good as he got. One would think that might discourage someone like her, but instead, it only egged her on. And though it habitually infuriated her father, sometimes she thought he might be grudgingly proud of her too.

In this lifeless, uninspiring place, devoid of any and all excitement, the father-daughter revenge games soared on to new heights.

However, all that lost its appeal when it was revealed that Prince Zuko had actually succeeded in his pointless quest to capture the Avatar.

And then, predictably, as soon as victory was in his grasp, he had failed.

Zuko was like that earthbender from the story where the Fire Lord ordered him to push a boulder up a hill, and as soon as it got to the top it would roll down the other side, then he'd have to start all over again. She couldn't help feeling a strange mixture of pity and exasperation when she looked at him...and maybe just the slightest twinge of compassion as well, but she could never admit that, not even to herself.

Just as predictably, her father gallantly volunteered himself to continue Zuko's quest where he'd left off, and just as gallantly had him detained while he went off to prepare the ships.

Really, it's not like there was anything better to do around here.

She couldn't help but grin as she watched Zuko destroy her father's favorite tea table.

"What are you smiling about!?" he snarled at her as he jerked his arms out of the grasp of her father's men.

"Nothing really. I'm just glad you decided to pop by," she told him honestly. "You have no idea how horrendously boring it gets around here." She beamed at his uncle. "This is so exciting!"

"Always happy to entertain," the old general told her with a cheery nod, toasting her with his nearly empty teacup.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" She beckoned impatiently at one of the soldiers. "What do you think you're doing just standing around? The prince isn't going anywhere—do you want them to think we're savages? Go, have another table and a pot of ginseng brought in for the general immediately!"

"Right away, Lieutenant!" The men saluted her and quickly scurried out of the tent.

"Lieutenant, hmm? You're moving up fast in the world," the general noted, studiously ignoring his nephew as he paced back and forth within the pavilion, fuming.

"Not as fast as Father would like," she said with a shrug, picking at a spot of dirt beneath one tapered fingernail. "He's always quick to point out that I'd be a commander now too, if it wasn't for my foul temper."

"I seem to recall Zhao having quite the foul temper of his own," Iroh mused, meeting her eyes with a knowing chuckle, and she met his with a wry smile. She'd always liked the old man. Despite the veneer of senility he liked to put on, Daiyu thought there was something canny, and wily about him. It always tickled her sense of humor. "I wonder...has your father asked for your opinion on moving up the ranks?"

"Oh, my father frequently reminds me that my opinion has no bearing on his decisions," she said, looking up and tilting her head with a patented sweet smile that was expertly designed to hide the razor blades beneath.

"That's a shame," the general said, and by his tone of voice, she could tell he meant it. "You're a bright young lady. If destiny was in your hands, I'd be interested to see where it might lead you."

Perhaps, she thought as her heart twisted with each word, the old man was too canny for his own good.

"...Me too," she said softly, her lips curled into a mirthless smile.

The prince stood with his back to them both, fists clenched and pretending not to listen.

When her father returned from readying the ships, her mind was swiftly turned from introspection to the furious row between he and Zuko. She knew her father's tendency for cruelty and pontificating well, but taunting the banished prince about his daddy issues just seemed excessive.

"How is this necessary?" she muttered to herself as her father taunted the prince about his scar. "We're wasting time if we're planning to go after the Avatar..."

And then she felt her heart flutter as Zuko snarled, "Maybe you'd like one to match!"

Her eyes flicked from one man to the other as an Agni Kai was agreed upon and slowly felt a grin form on her face.

"This day keeps getting better and better," she giggled, no longer concerned with wasting time.

The Avatar would keep. She was about to watch two grown men try to set each other on fire.

She wasn't exactly sure when Zuko became a man in her eyes. Maybe it was from the moment she'd heard him speak for the first time in almost three years in a low, husky voice. So different from when she'd known him—there was an alluring rasp to it that fought fiercely to hide the leftover traces of boyishness. For that's all that was left of it. Traces. What emerged from the ashes was a strange amalgamation of the boy she'd known and a stranger with his face. But if she was being honest, she thought the moment might have come when he threatened her father. For in that moment, she thought she saw the spark of inner fire flashing like lightning in his eyes.

That, and anyone who didn't fear her father—anyone who had the desire to knock him down a peg or two on top of it—was a person who earned her respect.

It was an unfortunate tendency that most of these people tended to meet unhappy ends.

Something in her dearly hoped that this time, the same would not happen to Zuko.

Her fingers dug into her elbows in stiff anticipation as she stood with her arms crossed in the training yard at sundown. She was with the men standing behind her father, so while he stood with his back to them, she had a full view of the prince's determined glare as he faced down the commander. For a moment, their eyes met, and she couldn't help but give him a tight smile and an encouraging nod.

"Get him good," she mouthed, and watched his eyes narrow skeptically at her. She was probably the last person he expected to be rooting for him, and to be honest, she was a little surprised at herself too. If she was the betting and races type, the eel-hound she put her money on would not be named Zuko.

Agni be damned, but she wanted him to win.

She wanted to watch her father eat his own words for once. Or at least a ball of Zuko's fire—both options were appealing, really.

As the sun sunk beneath the horizon, Daiyu watched avidly as they began the Agni Kai, the ceremonial coverings falling away in the light breeze as the combatants stood and took their stances. She was surprised that when the gong went off Zuko was the first to go on the offensive. He used to be so timid and mediocre as a bender that seeing him go through the attack forms with such vigor now was a shock—if an entirely welcome one. Unconsciously, her eyes flicked to her father's attacks and felt her muscles twitching to form the proper counters that he drilled into her over, and over.

Though Zuko was much quicker to take the offensive, she frowned to see his form was still a bit sloppy, relying more on instinct than implementing any real counter strategy. He was going to lose at this rate, she realized with a dismal resignation, watching as her father charged through his attacks with pure might.

"Come on, come on..." she whispered as Zuko's uncle yelled out encouragements and helpful tips. She wasn't sure if that was strictly legal in an Agni Kai, but she hoped Zuko would listen to him. Iroh might be an old man of dubious dodderage, but they didn't call him the Dragon of the West for nothing.

Zuko deflected not one but two of her father's heavy blows before he faltered on the third, sending him flying backwards to land hard on his back.

"Get up, get up, get up," she breathed, clenching her fists so hard that her sharpened nails dug holes into her skin, so focused on the match that she didn't even notice one of the petty officers sending her a look.

Just as her father was about to land the final, devastating blow, and Daiyu was bracing herself for yet another bitter disappointment, Zuko swung his leg to hook around her father's ankle, knocking him off balance and whirling to land on his feet in the same motion.

Daiyu's stomach swept up in excitement, grinning as she whispered, "Keep on him! Never give the enemy a chance to recover! No mercy!"

And there was none to be had.

Zuko kept her father off balance, driving him back one step at a time. Finally, with one decisive blow, he sent the older man rolling onto his side, rushing to deliver the fatal strike.

Would Zuko kill him, she wondered? Many an Agni Kai ended in death, she knew, if not horrible disfigurement. It was the victor's choice. She knew she should probably feel horrified at the thought of her father dying, but that wasn't the emotion that welled up in her gut as she held her breath, waiting. She wasn't sure what to make of the eagerness...the anticipation that bubbled up her throat like poisonous bile.

Do it, she thought traitorously as Zuko aimed his fist to strike, just do it.

Even her father—as if their minds were somehow insidiously linked—growled out, "Do it!"

But when Zuko struck, his fire only singed the earth directly to the right of the commander's head.

Daiyu watched in dismay and disbelief as the idiot then turned his back on the enemy.

Was he insane?

Maybe she was too, as some instinctive drive sent her lurching towards the man as he moved to strike out at the prince. It was lucky the general got there first, stopping her father's kick midstrike by catching his foot, of all things, and sent him skidding on his back across the practice field.

"Disgraceful." The old man then proceeded to further humiliate him, "Even in exile, my nephew is more honorable than you." He spared a last glance at her with a wily grin as they turned to leave and added, "Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious."

With everything else that had happened that day, it was all just too much.

Something about General Iroh always did manage to hit Daiyu right in the funny bone.

Unable to help herself, she burst into peals of laughter.

Not just the normal kind of laughter either. No. This was the hysterical kind that just doesn't know when to quit. And when her father turned his glare on her, more deadly and murderous than any glare before it, that just seemed to make it worse. She knew intuitively that the consequences went beyond simple punishment this time, beyond any father-daughter revenge game—they were in uncharted waters now. And who knows what twisted creatures lurked deep below?

"GET HER OUT OF MY SIGHT!" the commander roared at the officers.

She was still shrieking with laughter when they dragged her out of the practice yard past the two departing royals.

Her face split in an aching grin, she caught Zuko's eye and let out the vicious confession, "I wish you would've set his head on fire. If it didn't scar him beyond recognition—which, let's face it, even if it wasn't an improvement, at least it would've gotten rid of those stupid sideburns."

"You're crazier than Azula..." he muttered at her, to which she only laughed harder.

"You should tell that to my father!" she snarled as the officers dragged her away. "He might burst into tears of joy."

"There is a difference between being crazy and being at the end of one's rope, Prince Zuko," she heard the general sigh, something close to pity in his voice. "You are not the only one with a father who is difficult to please..."

"I don't see her father sending her off to chase the Avatar," he muttered back savagely.

"No. She has to contend with something far worse," the old man answered. "And that's living with him."

As it turned out, Daiyu would not have to worry about that for long.

"Banished?" She blinked at her father in shock. "What do you mean, I'm banished?"

"You're a disgrace, and you always have been," he explained, his eyes hard as stone. "You're a stain on my family name—an embarrassment—and you've dishonored me for the last time."

Staggered, she jolted to her feet, sending her chair sprawling backward.

"I..." she said softly, voice trembling with fury, "I...have dishonored you? I am the disgrace? Oh, that's rich, coming from you." She laughed darkly as his eyes narrowed at her. "You think I don't know what you did?"

"This is not about me, or anything that I may or may not have done—"

"You embarrassed yourself! Long ago!" She barked out another humorless laugh, fire trailing from her fingers as she gestured them violently through the air. "I am merely the living reminder of it that you can't bear to look at! You, of all people, have no right to speak of dishonor after what you did to—"

She should've seen it coming.

But all her careful training and impeccable reaction times had fallen to the wayside in wake of the visceral rage exploding in her chest. Considering that, she probably deserved the scalding blow that raked over her cheek like burning coals and sent her sprawling to her knees.

"I have...every right," her father spoke, his voice foreboding as he loomed over her with burning eyes. "You have learned nothing from me if you do not know that power is everything. Those with power have the right to take whatever they want from those without it. I have told you, time and time again..." he growled, "there is no place in this Great Nation for those too weak to seize power." He turned his back on her, a deliberate move of disrespect—she was inferior to him. "So get out. Pack only the essentials. I want you gone before sunrise."

Holding her throbbing cheekbone, she glowered up at him with hateful eyes. "Where do you expect me to go?"

"Away," he said dryly, reseating himself behind his desk and turning his attention to his correspondence. "You are not to return until I no longer feel disgusted by the sight of you."

"So, around the 10th of 'Never' then?"

"You're catching on. Good." He lifted his stylus and began to print out a response. "I'm sending out a notice to all the district overseers to turn you away at the boarders. You will not return to the Fire Nation until you demonstrate proper respect and learn what it means to master true power."

"So, what? You want me to go out and kill a dragon? Bring you back its head?" she said nastily.

"Don't be ridiculous. Dragons are extinct, you stupid girl. My father fell slaying the last one himself." He rolled his eyes at her. "Did you think I'd send you out on some impossible task? No. The Avatar will suffice."

"Oh, that's all?" She waved a mocking hand at nothing. "Because that's original. Who do you think you are? The Fire Lord?" His eyes gleamed as he looked up from the letters, and Daiyu found herself choking on disbelief and hysterical laughter once again. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

It was official. He was out of his mind.

"Get out. Gone by sunrise," he told her. "If I need to say it again, you'll be leaving with more than just a love-tap. Do you want a souvenir like the one Prince Zuko's father gave him? Because I'd be happy to oblige."

Limbs shaking with tremors of residual anger, Daiyu rose to her feet and exited the tent without another word. She felt each startled glance sent her way like a pelting stone aimed directly at the handprint on her cheek that still smarted like a brand. No, it wouldn't leave a scar like Zuko's disfigurement she judged as she probed at the wound with the help of a small, cracked hand mirror she was quick to shove into her bag—her father was too vain for that. She was still a 'reflection' of him, whatever that was supposed to mean. His threat was an empty one, to that extent. It wouldn't stop him from outright killing her though. She wouldn't put that much past him.

As it was, she was sure the mark would be there for at least a week, blistery and puffy, and stay discolored for another month until the tone had enough time to tan with the rest of her skin. She had enough experience with burns to know the healing process well. Benders usually healed from these things better than most, but it would still be annoying—not to mention gross and humiliating, which was exactly what her father intended, she was sure.

It was just getting to the puffy stage as she stewed on the docks, legs swinging, still numb with disbelief at the entire situation. No, she couldn't even call it disbelief, really. She supposed it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Who knows how long he'd been looking for an excuse? She reckoned she was just dazed. It'd wear off soon enough, leaving her with the familiar comfort of rage. It was still on its way though.

She was sure, however, that once it hit her, the reception would be legendary.

It would probably be best not to be within ten miles of her father when that happened.

Within all the hustle and bustle of the ships readying to leave, lost in her own disjointed thoughts, Daiyu didn't register the pair of footsteps that marched past her stop, and turn around.

She didn't look up when they marched back either.

Not even when a low, husky voice asked, "What happened to you?"

Staring out at the horizon as the last dregs of the sun disappeared beneath it, she muttered, "My father is channeling your father. He really should be ashamed of himself, you know. He's a bad example to fathers everywhere." She rolled her eyes towards him, "Then again, my father was never exactly a shining good example in the first place..." She leaned back on the heels of her palms and announced casually, "You know he raped my mother? And I'm supposed to be the one who's brought dishonor to the family... Honor," she scoffed a mirthless laugh, shaking her head. "What a sick joke it is... There is no honor in the world. Honor is a myth. More mythical than even the Avatar, apparently."

"I don't believe that!" came Zuko's heated response, but when Daiyu rolled her eyes up to regard him with a dull stare, his anger cooled, and he spoke softly, "I'm sorry...about your mother. She didn't...deserve that. No one does."

"Not even if she was a dirty waterbender prisoner?" she responded, dry with cynical raised brows.

She watched his response carefully, watched as his throat worked and swallowed his discomfort, then watched as he shook his head and repeated, "No one deserves that."

Slowly, Daiyu gave him a genuine smile.

"Then your uncle was right. Even in exile, you are a far more honorable man than my father, and I am proud to call you my prince." She added with a wink, "That is, assuming we're not comparing honor to lion-turtles and that it actually still exists—"

"It does," he insisted, turning red all the way up to his ears, and Daiyu thought that was just adorable. She was about to say so when he suddenly took her by the arm, dragging her after him down the dock. "Uncle can explain it better. You'll see. He'll prove you wrong."

"Prince Zuko," she said, suddenly on edge. "I have to return to my preparations—if I'm still here past daybreak, I don't want to know what my father will do."

He stopped in his tracks, sending her a severe look over his shoulder, glaring at her out of his scarred and puckered eye—actually, she wasn't sure if he was. Glaring at her, that is; his eye was just stuck that way.

"You were serious about that?"

"Yeah. The lunatic thinks he's the fucking Fire Lord—he banished me."

"He can't do that. He doesn't have the right."

"He seems to think that he does. 'Those with power take what they want,' blah-blah-blabbidy-blah," Daiyu mocked in a snide voice, rolling her eyes. "Said he sent warrants out to the overseers at the boarders to turn me away. And they'll listen too. They're all scared of him, those pants-pissing crybabies..."

"He can't do that," Zuko repeated more firmly.

"I'm pretty sure he already did."

Daiyu pointed a flippant finger to the puffy handprint on her face without further need to elaborate.

Shaking his head, Zuko gripped her arm tighter.

"Come on. Uncle will know what to do."

She sighed but figured listening to whatever the general had to say couldn't hurt. As long as she was gone by morning, by his own word, her father wouldn't do anything. Then again, Daiyu knew her father's word was worth less than a bucketful of piss, so there was that to consider as well...

"Well...this is certainly most disturbing news," the old man said, giving her concerned looks over yet another cup of tea.

"It was not my intention to disturb you with it," she said apologetically, giving Zuko the stink-eye. He returned it far more effectively than Daiyu would ever manage, that was for sure.

"No, no, not at all," Iroh waved away her words with a flutter of his hand. "It was good you had the sense to bring her aboard, Prince Zuko. It seems to me there is a simple enough solution to this tragic situation."

"What is it, Uncle?" Zuko shifted impatiently, leaning over the cabin table. "We don't have time to circle around the point all night!"

"Patience. Deep breaths," the old man told his nephew with a weary note that spoke of having used this technique to ward off many a princely tantrum. To his credit, the prince obliged with a couple calming inhales that did seem to settle him down, if only just a little. It was only then that Iroh turned to Daiyu and continued, "Your father said that capturing the Avatar would fulfill the terms of your banishment, did he not?" He clapped his hands before him with a small spark of delight. "What a coincidence! Prince Zuko is also hunting for the Avatar. If you work together, you might just manage to reach him before Commander Zhao!"

"What?!" Zuko shouted at the same time Daiyu muttered, "I don't think that's what my father had in mind..."

"Uncle, have you gone senile?!"

"Yeah, really," Daiyu pointed out, "If I know my father, I'm pretty sure he meant for me to nab the kid, then hand him straight over into his custody so he'd get all the glory. I'd much rather stay banished..." She frowned, then actually thought about it. She turned to consider Zuko, who was glaring at her distrustfully. "I wouldn't mind helping you though. If anyone deserves to reap the rewards for the capture of the Avatar, it'd be you. You're the one who found him. Then again..." she muttered, "you did lose him right after..."

"Enough!" he shouted, shooting to his feet, and starting to pace the room. "I don't need anyone's help!"

"Prince Zuko," Iroh spoke with an admonishment in his voice, "have you considered it might be Lieutenant Daiyu who needs your help?"

"I can't afford any distractions!" The prince jerked his hands in agitation, a trail of fire following down in their wake. "Nothing is more important than capturing the Avatar!"

Daiyu raised her brows at the display, vaguely impressed with herself. Leaning back on her palms she sent him a sultry smirk. "I didn't know I was so...distracting."

Zuko nearly tripped, instantly flushing red as she continued to smile at him. "Not like—stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Smiling, like...like that!"

"Like what?"

"Just stop!"

"Okay." She smiled.

"That—" he jabbed a finger at her "—See that, Uncle? That is exactly what I'm talking about—" He gestured at her wildly. "Girls are crazy!"

"Oh, you haven't met crazy yet. I lock her up for about a week out of every month. She's not too friendly," she assured him, then turned to say to Iroh, "The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. It's the perfect revenge, really. If Prince Zuko gets ahold of the Avatar and turns him over to the Fire Lord..." Her face bloomed into a wicked grin, despite the pain it caused her puffy cheek. "Father will be humiliated."

"...Why do you look so happy about that?" Zuko muttered, giving her a disturbed look.

"Do you want me to write a list of all the reasons?" she asked, her voice gone flat. "Because by the time I'm done with it, I'll have written a whole book. And I don't have all night."

"Consider carefully, Prince Zuko," his uncle cautioned him wisely. "A good ruler does not rule alone. He knows how to choose his allies. Remember the maxim—the rival of my rival is my friend. It is not weakness to accept help, or the hand of friendship where it is offered so freely."

"She's Azula's friend—not mine," he rasped, mouth set in a scowl.

Looking down, Daiyu fiddled with her fingernails, a nervous tic she had developed ever since she'd had them filed to match the princess's perilous talons. Even her hairstyle matched Azula's and she couldn't pretend that it wasn't by design.

With a sigh, she confessed, "I only associated with Azula because my father insisted upon it." When she felt his accusing eyes on her, she shook her head, a rare feeling of shame washing through her chest. "That still doesn't excuse my actions. I was cruel to you—and to others. I could say it was just politics, but that would only be another excuse. You have every reason to mistrust me, because you're right. I was never a good friend to you and I...it might seem cheap to say it now that I've been brought so low, but I regret it." She met his eyes sincerely. "I really do." With that, she swallowed the rest of her pride and folded her hands on the floor in front of her before formally bowing her head over them. "I hope you might find it in your heart to allow me to earn your forgiveness, your highness."

She heard his footsteps pause before they stalked away, and then—

SLAM.

Dead silence resounded in the cabin before Iroh filled it with a sigh.

"You'll have to forgive him. My nephew is sixteen, and can be quite dramatic when the mood strikes..." With a sheepish shrug, he added, "He's never been adept at formalities either."

Daiyu slowly raised her head, her lips tilting in a half-smile.

"I remember sixteen. It wasn't that long ago for me."

"How old are you now?" Iroh smiled warmly.

"Eighteen."

"Still so young..." His smile faltered. "You've both been through much. Too much."

Daiyu shrugged.

"There are younger who have been through worse," she pointed out. "My mother was fifteen when she had me."

Iroh winced. "There were rumors..."

"The truth is much worse," Daiyu said, her face set in grim lines. "My mother was taken from one of the nomadic trading tribes that live out on the open sea."

The general nodded, eyes alight with interest. "Prince Zuko and I, we've encountered these tribes before. They live in homes on interconnected rafts and boats—fascinating craftsmanship, to endure even in the worst of storms. Once we were low on supplies and were quite glad to run into them out in the middle of nowhere. They were helpful with directions too. I was under the impression that they were neutral in the war—that they traded peacefully with everyone."

"Apparently, my father missed that lesson regarding the water tribes," she said, eyes fixed darkly on a spot on the table, like it had done her a personal wrong. "With no provocation, he took all their benders prisoner, raided their supplies, then left the rest of them for dead. It would've been a miracle if they made it to safety without anyone to waterbend the rafts. Without them, they'd have been torn apart in the next storm." She shook her head. "I'm sure you know what happened next."

"I can speculate," the old man sighed, setting down his cooled cup of tea unfinished. "And none of those speculations are pleasant. War is a terrible game where there are no true winners."

"Only survivors..." Daiyu pulled one knee up and propped her elbow on it, tugging a kiseru pipe from out of her sleeve and packing the end with a fragrant blend from a sachet of herbs she was in the habit of keeping on her. "Do you mind, terribly? It's been a stressful day."

"By all means," said the general with a gracious gesture, nodding to his odd collection of teapots with a lopsided smile. "We all have our own ways of coping with stress..."

"Yeah..." She smiled back, a tired thing on her face as she lit the end of her pipe with a sharp snap of sparks from her fingers. Her weary gaze wandered over to stare at the door the prince had slammed behind him. "I guess we do."


I have some chapters ready to go if this gather's any interest.

Let me know what you think in a review, and I'll post them!

Fun facts!

Daiyu (黛玉) is a popular Chinese name that means 'dyed black jade.' I would assume it is a reference to thick dark hair...or was it eyebrows? I'll let you decide.