Gladiator

by Seyary-Minamoto

In a world where the Avatar wasn't found, the Fire Nation took over two nations and they strive to overcome the last one. Water Tribe warrior Sokka seeks to fight for his people's rights, but he's captured by his enemies. His life is no longer in his hands as he fights as a Gladiator, and his fate will eventually depend on the Fire Nation Princess, who needs him for her own ends...

258. Chapter 258: Storytelling-Wedding 4

A/N:

The two following chapters feature some of the most difficult writing I've done. While I know some of you are even eager to jump into angst headfirst, I wanted to warn those of you who have been grappling with the story's latest developments to approach these two chapters with at least some degree of caution. Gladiator's ultimate outcome will be much brighter than this… but there's much darkness to be braved first.

If you are uncomfortable with the very uncomfortable concept of Ozai's punishment of Azula (as in, a marriage she never wanted and didn't genuinely consent to), I advise you to wait a few weeks until there's more available chapters for you to read. Things always look even more bleak when there's no more "next chapter" button to click… but this is, quite possibly, one of the lowest and darkest points of the story. What comes next will be better, if just slightly, and the story will begin advancing in ways I'm sure many of you have been waiting eagerly to see. But before we get there, this was an unfortunate demand of the plot.

At any rate… take care of yourselves if these developments sit very poorly with you (they sat poorly with me too, but hiding from the promised high stakes and darkness of my own story felt like a weak writing choice). Read at your own leisure.

---

Storytelling/Wedding

4

Noise. So much noise where she should have heard clear words. Hands tugged and measured, wrapping her body in layer after layer, pulling at her hair, propping it up in an elegant hairdo, stuffing it with ornaments of all kinds, ensuring her head would weigh almost twice as much as it normally did. Everything felt heavier these days, her soul more than anything.

She had felt light, once. So light she had been able to dance, to soar in a crimson dress she'd borrowed from someone much taller than herself. With only one night to make up her mind, and mere hours of preparation before the impromptu ceremony, she had scarcely known how to contain her excitement as the women in Firelight Town aided her in every moment of preparation.

She had climbed downstairs, once she was ready… and he had waited for her there, gazing at her with the purest blue eyes, with the bliss of a man who saw an impossible dream coming true at that moment. They had crafted a love that would outlast empires, carved in everlasting mountains: their two souls would be certain seek each other out, over and over, for each of their lifetimes.

The mark that proved as much lingered in her right hand, still. She closed it tightly, feeling the scar with her fingertips, remembering the day in which they had spoken their vows, cut their palms, bared themselves fully and promised each other infinity. With her eyes closed, she could still evoke that moment, she could still feel his smiles, shining upon her as sunlight might… no, curses, even the sun had failed to warm her in the way he always did. No one ever smiled at her like that… no one showed her patience, kindness, love, as he had. She had put him through so much pain, so much more than she had ever intended to, from the moment their partnership began, all the way to that last instant, as they faded from each other's view while the Barge progressed into the ocean… and he had never held any of it against her. He had always forgiven… he had always set everything aside, generous of heart like nobody else ever could be. She, certainly, didn't think she could ever be as kind as he was… but he had always inspired her to try. He had taught her to forsake all the shame she had spent years associating with her better emotions, to free herself from the constraints of everyone's expectations…

He had taught her to live.

It was fitting that she'd feel like dying now, instead.

Even Xin Long couldn't counter her grief anymore. Even he failed to find strength to ward off her darkest thoughts: he had been chained down, held in place for a week. He hadn't been fed, not once, for all attempts to do so by the guards had resulted in violent outbursts, as the dragon attempted to break free from his restraints to no avail. His weakness was hers. They faltered together. Perhaps, in the end, trying to save him would be no use… perhaps she'd save no one. Perhaps her damn life would amount to a spark of hope that had glowed for a moment, only to be snuffed out by endless darkness.

It hadn't seemed that way when he had been here. She had never doubted they could build a new world together. They had started out so young, so weak, waddling awkwardly through a harsh uphill climb, not knowing for sure that they'd ever have a chance to change anything… yet they had believed a chance would come. They had built some opportunities with their own hands, too, and they had risen high enough to touch the sky, if just for one moment… just before everything crumbled into nothingness.

Only memories remained. Memories of that beautiful week, the full opposite of the one she had just lived through. Memories of laughter and joy, of teasing and fun, of flying through the skies, of sailing across the ocean, of swimming together, of talking for hours, of cooking side by side, of challenging each other with ridiculous amounts of food, of lessons he'd wanted to share with her, of fireworks that burst in the sky, their brightness reflected beautifully in his eyes as he thanked her… as he made love to her, underneath a thousand stars.

Brushes upon her skin. Details of her face highlighted with colors, sharpened with special techniques. A layer of makeup, strong enough to disguise the dark bags under her eyes, too weak to conceal the sorrow that overwhelmed her. She had no choice over anything, not even the colors chosen and used by the servants tasked to prepare her. They worked systematically, communicating among themselves, ensuring the process would be completed as soon as possible.

If only she could have stood up, rejected all of them, tossing their makeup sets across the room, tearing off the hefty white dress that hugged her body, that she could only wish to set on fire…

Her hands, resting on her lap, shifted back, ever so slightly: her thumbs brushed her flat womb, and she gritted her teeth painfully, so painfully her head hurt for it.

She had no choice but to push forward for Xin Long… for the child she carried inside her, even if the drive to survive and live on dwindled further with every new step she took. No rebellions… no fighting back. Today, she would survive… just as she'd die, on the very same breath: from this day onwards, she would no longer be Crown Princess Azula.

The voices dwindled in strength once her full attire, hairdo and makeup were done. No more hands tugged at her to ensure her dress was in place. The servants exchanged only a few more words… none directed to her. She wouldn't have responded even if they had been. Then, they walked away: the footsteps echoed down the Temple's hallways as she was left behind in the preparation room. Only her even, consciously controlled breathing broke the silence they left behind… and now it was only a matter of waiting. She would be called before long… she'd have to carry herself out of this room with strength she doubted resided in her body any longer. She had eaten more lately, forcing herself to do so for the child's sake more than anything… she had spent most her days perched in bed, feeling sicker than when the White Lotus attacked, than when her chi had been corrupted and her shoulder wounded. She should have been stronger now… but she felt weaker. She felt so much weaker…

The one thing that could have provided her with strength when she lacked it most direly was Sokka's necklace: she couldn't bring it with her today, not only out of fear of what the servants might do if they found it on her as they readied her for the ceremony… but out of shame, more than anything. How could she cling to it now, when she would break the vows they'd made in a matter of hours?

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she let herself recall more painful, yet blissful memories. He had asked her to marry him… he always did ask her, repeatedly, even after their ceremony in Firelight Town. The first time he'd asked, he only had a beautiful flower to hand her. Then he'd nearly died, and her answer had changed in the face of the agonizing fear of losing him forever… and she hadn't changed her answer again since. When he had asked her one more time, at another volcano, in the depths of the Fire Nation, he had a gift for her… the symbol of their betrothal, which he had crafted with utmost care and attention for her. The necklace he had taken with him when he had fought Combustion Man… the necklace he had asked her to keep with herself, to remember him by, to remember their countless promises to share their lives with each other.

The necklace she had stuffed deep inside his bags on the very last moments they had shared in her cabin, just before they parted ways at the South Pole's shores.

In all this grief, in all this torment, she hadn't doubted she'd made the right choice. It would hurt Sokka, she knew so… but he was the safekeeper of her necklace, just as she guarded his. He had been meant to hold onto it, to protect it until the day came when she could wear it freely… that day had arrived when they had been Jing and Wentai. It had been seven days, to be precise. She couldn't keep it now… she couldn't risk it being destroyed by her father, let alone when the man he'd forced on her would likely understand, immediately, what that necklace represented.

She had made the right choice. If she still had that necklace now, she'd surely hate herself all the more for what she was forced to do. She'd feel unworthy of it…unworthy of him. It would be Sokka who would remember her by it… who would remember the woman he had once loved, and who had loved him back fiercely enough to lose everything else, so long as she could keep him safe.

Tears burned in her closed eyes, and she breathed deeply as she tried to still herself. She would do what she had to do. It was simple and straightforward. She had to disconnect her mind and heart from her body for a few hours. By the time it was over, she would have protected her dragon and her unborn child… and she would be perfectly free to despise herself all over again, with far more strength than before. To hate what her father had reduced her to… to miss Sokka with every ounce of her being, so much she'd stop breathing, barely remembering to start again, whenever she allowed herself to think she might never see him again.

After today, would she even deserve to?

Necklace or no: would she still be worthy of him?

Even her eyelids hung more heavily than ever once she dared, at last, to open her eyes. The room where she'd been prepared was far more spacious than the one Ty Lee had used, back during her friend's wedding. Furnished beautifully with small tables and embroidered cushions, the regal room surely was only meant to be used by the most important people, on the most important occasions… yet none of its splendor meant a damn thing to the Princess who gazed into the mirror of the dresser she'd taken her seat at, once she was fully clad in the countless layers of the wedding dress.

Where she had barely known how to contain her joy, the first time she experienced her own wedding ceremony, now she saw nothing but misery in the eyes of the woman who looked back at her. If it was meant to be her… well, it certainly didn't feel like her at all. She seemed to dissociate from her own body, from her own existence, anything so she could pretend she wasn't about to betray the man she loved, even if she only wanted to protect the child they should have raised together.

Jiare's humble dress suited her far better than this one did. So much embroidery, so much complexity… and for what? Luxury couldn't mask the emptiness that permeated this whole ordeal. Her intended husband, who certainly didn't deserve the title in the least, surely felt as ill and disgusted in his groom's robes as she did in hers.

Would it suffice? Would this be enough for her father, at last? Would Ozai's destructive hand finally ease out of the fist it had kept clenched around her very heart? Would he be satisfied once he saw her, broken and defeated, accepting an unwanted marriage with Zhao just to put a stop to her father's mindless, violent tantrums?

She breathed deeply, slowly allowing the air to cleanse her lungs, finding very little respite for it, but enough to calm her racing mind. She had to go through the motions, yet again… only, this time she couldn't quit at the last moment, unlike when she had nearly sacrificed the child she now sacrificed herself for. It should be easy… for all she truly needed to do was stand in place and listen to the Head Sage's speeches, meaningless as they would be in the face of a forced marriage, where no manner of love united them now, just as none would unite them in the future. She just had to endure it… to live through it long enough to carry forth the deceit so the child growing inside her could continue to grow indeed. By the time her pregnancy was secure… by then, she'd figure out what else to do, how to keep the child safe. Perhaps she could find someone who would escape to the South Pole, carrying the child to Sokka… a futile, pointless fantasy at the moment, yet an idea she would cling to, for now. Maybe she would never return to him, maybe she'd never deserve to, after today… but the child was innocent. Whatever forgiveness Sokka was willing to extend to her, she knew she wouldn't deserve any of it… but their child was another matter. Their child deserved to grow free… deserved to know its father. She had no doubts he'd raise a baby far better than she ever could.

It was the future she had to fight for, a complicated future that would require extensive planning to properly execute… but it was the only reason why she hadn't starved herself to death by now, why she hadn't picked up Wolf's Bane and hacked it through her own guts just to make everything end more quickly.

He would be so cross with her, Azula knew, if he had any idea of how many different deaths she had pictured over the past weeks… of how she had practically fantasized with the idea, of how she even imagined buildings crumbling atop her, the earth shattering underneath her feet, swallowing her whole, heck, even poisoned through any of the unappetizing meals she'd forced herself to eat, perhaps even just her heart slowing its beats until it decided to stop, altogether. She had spent years scolding him for tossing his life away carelessly… never did she expect the day would come when she'd understand his willingness to die quite as well as she did right now.

But she lived for more than herself. She lived for a future she'd never witness with her own eyes. She lived for the sake of ensuring that the love that had changed her world would live on in the child growing inside her. Whatever came after the child had been born and taken to safety, far away from the Fire Lord's clutches, it wouldn't matter at all, not if she fulfilled that single purpose…

She gazed at her right hand: that scar, emblazoned upon her palm, had become a reminder of different days… of a different life. A life gone too soon, no matter if she had lived it as best as she could. She carried him with her, eternally etched upon her body, blood and soul… that thought usually would provide her with comfort, but not today. Not now, when she would unwillingly step into the fire that would burn away so many vows and promises, scorching away the proud woman she had once been… and who knew what would take her place? Surely, not someone worthy of carrying that scar upon her palm.

"I… I'm sorry," she spoke aloud, her frail voice jarring to her ears, enough that she closed her eyes, as though wishing to reject every level of her own reality, her own body included.

He had always apologized… she had often rebuked him for it, rejected those words, at first out of frustration… eventually out of affection, for he certainly apologized far more often than he needed to. Would he tell her she had nothing to apologize for, if he knew of what she'd do? Would he ever forgive her? If so… would he teach her how to forgive herself, too? Would he understand why she'd done it, would he let go of any of his rightful outrage, if just for her sake…? Would he still love her, as truly and wholeheartedly, as he had throughout all these years? Would she deserve that love, if he did…?

Footsteps. A surge of nausea forced her to cover her mouth with a hand: no, none of this, not now, damn it. She had kept her condition hidden for a week, in virtue of staying safely inside her room for most those days… but a week wouldn't suffice. A month starting today, that was what the Head Sage had said, and that was what needed to be done, no matter how difficult and painful it might be…

"Princess?"

The grave voice of the Head Sage was welcome, far more than that of a guard, or any unknown sages. If he saw her struggling with her urge to vomit, he would understand… he would keep quiet. He had done as much, so far…

But he wasn't here simply to check on her. Azula knew as much.

"Everything is… everything is ready now," he announced. Azula shuddered, violently, and when she lowered her head she almost lost balance fully. The damn bridal hair ornaments felt like bricks… they might have felt light as a breeze if only she wore them to marry the right man. "If you need more time…"

"I… would take forever, if I could," Azula confessed, her jaw clenched as she shook her head lightly. "I barely have any resolve as it is. The sooner it's over… the better."

"Of course," the Head Sage sighed, nodding in submissive agreement.

Azula struggled to rise: the old man rushed towards her, offering his hand for support, clutching the Princess tightly when she almost lost her balance, halfway to a fully upright position. She huffed once she stood properly, glaring at herself once more in the mirror's reflection.

"Just… give me a moment to adjust," she said, swallowing hard. How ridiculous that she'd struggle with these garments to this extent, with the damn ornaments that seemed poised to force her to bow down constantly, when she had ever kept her chin high, instead… perhaps that was their damn purpose, come to think of it.

The Head Sage gave her space as she took a few steps by herself, uneasy and uncertain. To think she had once been as good as a symbol of strength, that she had earned the respect and admiration of countless people through her fearlessness, through her leadership. To think she had stood up to the man who held her figurative leash now, and ensured he respected her…

And now she was only this. The embodiment of weakness, of frailty… of defeat.

She had been weak, indecisive, once. She had stood by, watching innocent men burning to their deaths, waiting for anyone else to come to their rescue. She had failed to do so, herself. Today, no one would come to her rescue either, much as no one rescued the slaves her father and Zhao had immolated carelessly… today, she had to step forward to her own figurative pyre, to endure flames her father wouldn't cast through his own fists… yet flames that had already eroded her willpower until there was nothing but emptiness inside her. Today, she hoped, all would come to an end… and even if it didn't, she'd still lack the strength to fight back against whatever else Ozai dared sling in her direction.

Silently, Azula turned to face the Head Sage. His apprehension, she suspected, would only be visible and apparent while they were alone. Once outside, he would put on a mask of perfect obedience, performing the ceremony as was expected of him. He would read from the Book of Fire, he would perform every necessary rite…

Oh. The candles' rite.

"I… c-can I ask for something?" Azula blurted out, just as the Head Sage gestured towards the corridor. He froze immediately, however, and nodded encouragingly.

"Anything, Princess. Of course…"

She spoke her request… and he nodded, immediately. He didn't hesitate to agree, his eyes alight with a spark of rebellion that Azula was sure she didn't bear on her own. No, she didn't make that request just to be contrary, just to anger her father… she simply hoped it would lessen her burden, if just to a small degree. It was one way to stay true to herself… one way to protect herself, even if she knew it would amount to nothing in the end. The rite would be finished regardless of her petition…

Somehow, she felt more ready then. She raised her head with difficulty, her shoulder shooting dangerous reminders through her nerve-endings that the weight on her head caused strain in her muscles, enough to tug at the still-healing wound… reminders that she couldn't possibly abide by. Again… the sooner this was done, the sooner she'd remove it. The sooner her painful shoulder would ease up too, she hoped…

She breathed deeply before following the Head Sage. Together, they stepped outside the preparation room and into the dark corridors of the Capital's Temple.

---

Since the Grand Royal Dome's destruction, the Temple had regained its status as the second-largest building within the Fire Nation Capital. Sturdy walls enclosed the sacred building where most ceremonial events were hosted: small celebrations – such as weddings of moderately wealthy citizens or the presentation of children at the Temple – would be held within the less ornate ceremonial halls. The Ceremony of the Sun took place in the most opulent and luxurious chamber, where Fenghuang's beacon would be lit once the Festivals began. Only the largest of ceremonies, namely the crowning and funerals of Fire Lords, happened in the Coronation Temple and Plaza, another building standing opposite to the main Temple, southwest to the lake. The Coronation Temple and Plaza allowed commoners to witness important events, even if only from the outskirts: royal weddings, typically, were held within the main Temple itself, and that was the case on that day.

Guests poured in gradually, checked thoroughly by Domestic Forces soldiers outside the Temple, by Imperial Guards next, once they climbed to the top of the stairs: many elderly guests found the process utterly absurd, yet such was the protocol the Fire Lord had demanded for. The air of unease in the Temple couldn't be masked properly underneath so many dishonest grins, for even the most pompous nobles couldn't disguise their discomfort over the Fire Lord's strange actions and behavior over the past month. Many of them had looked forward to the wedding exclusively to unravel the many mysteries currently unfolding in the Fire Nation's higher echelons of power…

A handful of those guests were guided by concern rather than curiosity. After traveling to the Capital as fast as the airships might carry them, Mayor Morishita and Governor Tiang arrived on time for the ceremony. The more eager gossiping nobles filed quickly into the grand hall within which the first royal wedding in over two decades would take place, something Tiang frowned upon immediately… though he was surprised to find someone else appeared as displeased by these events as he was.

"Oh, Mayor Morishita… and Kori, was it?" he smiled, bowing his head respectfully towards the only other pair who hadn't stormed into the grand hall as soon as the doors had been opened.

"Governor Tiang!" Mayor Morishita smiled too, no doubt with far more enthusiasm than required, attempting to mask the discomfort he couldn't shake off. "And you've brought your bride as well, I see! It is my pleasure to meet you!"

"Bride? Oh, you're too kind," Jin laughed, shaking her head: she kept an arm looped around Tiang's, daunted by setting foot in the Fire Nation mainland for the very first time, yet unwilling to waver in her resolve to accompany her husband. "We've been married for six years already, I'm not quite sure I qualify as a bride anymore…"

"Oh, I'm sure you do! And no doubt your husband thinks so, too," Morishita grinned. Tiang laughed gracefully and nodded, smiling proudly at his blushing wife.

Out of the four of them, only Kori remained stern and silent, despite having acknowledged Tiang with a nod. They had only met in person once before, in Crescent Island's Summit… it had barely been half a year since then, but it felt like much longer than that. As far as Tiang recalled, Kori had seemed quite friendly with Princess Azula… and as far as Kori had heard, out of all the Fire Nation's political figureheads, none was closer to royalty than the famed Governor Tiang. For a moment, they exchanged questing stares, wondering if there was any chance the other might have more answers than they did, themselves…

"You must be exhausted after such a long voyage, I take it," said Morishita, smiling sympathetically before his eyes drifted towards a large box Tiang seemed to have brought with him. "And you had heavy luggage as well…!"

"Oh, it's not so heavy," Tiang reassured him. "It is… a gift. For the Princess."

"Ah! Naturally, naturally," Morishita smiled, nodding promptly. "We left our gift with the guards at the entrance, we will offer it to the newlyweds once the ceremony is finished… I thought everyone was forced to do that, frankly. But you must have had your reasons to keep yours to yourself…"

"I'm afraid so," Tiang smiled as well, a hint of sadness in his countenance. "I have nothing but respect for my fellow soldiers, but this is a prized possession, one I don't wish to risk getting flung about carelessly by mistake amid the rest of the presents…"

"I see," Morishita said, nodding.

"We'll have to stand at the back of the room with the box," Tiang said, smiling weakly. "Might be for the best anyway…"

Jin's arm squeezed Tiang's gently, and a streak of sadness crossed his face, visibly enough for Kori to tense up at the sight of it. He had brought a present for the Princess, specifically for her… and he appeared miserable, too. Had he known, then? Or was he simply upset that the Princess would be forced into a marriage she'd never wanted?

The rumor of voices within the grand hall quieted down slowly: it was the alarming, unwanted sign that the ceremony would begin soon. Morishita guided his daughter into the hall, and Tiang picked up his large box carefully as he walked with his wife, ensuring to take his position near the door. The Mayor and Kori joined him after glancing about the chamber for any other convenient locations to stand at. For a royal wedding's standards, the grand hall wasn't as crowded as it could have been… but it was still crowded enough that, from as far back as they stood, it would be difficult to glimpse the ceremony at all. All the better, as far as Kori was concerned… simply serving as a witness to this wretched matter felt wrong, on every level.

Others, however, seemed most eager to get better spots: Kori scowled prominently upon glimpsing a giggling young woman with an opulent dress and long brown hair, who seemed to have accompanied her noble father as well, same as Kori. Further down the hall, a smug, thin man smirked as though this wedding were the most entertaining event he'd ever witnessed. Kori's hands balled into fists, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at them, furiously.

"Governor Kuan seems pleased with himself," Tiang mumbled next to Kori, and she rejoiced upon finding his stare was just as harsh as her own.

"That man…?" Kori asked: Tiang nodded slowly.

"He and the Princess had many conflicts. He attempted to marry her himself, she never allowed it. The last I heard, he was in danger of being sacked from his job for his utterly irresponsible behavior… the Princess was the one who wanted him gone from Gaoling, more than anyone. I suppose he's one of the people who most benefits from… from her loss of power."

Kori gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to look at the man any longer. If she kept doing it, she might end up storming up to Kuan and beating him up, and she didn't want to cause trouble for her father by doing so.

"This is wrong," Kori said, softly. Tiang breathed deeply and nodded.

"It is," he agreed, his jaw square as several sages stepped into view, ushering the crowd to quiet down once more.

This time, however, the silence became absolute once the newest arrival stepped into the grand hall: followed by the General of the Guards, and flanked by two pairs of Imperial Guards, Fire Lord Ozai strode inside the ceremonial chamber, his head held high. His luxurious attire, embellished with more golden highlights than ever, was topped by a black cloak. His hairpiece gleamed underneath the lanterns of the grand hall, beckoning all his subjects to fall in awed silence and bow down respectfully towards him.

Kori almost refused to do it. Almost. The daunting presence of the man was oppressive enough to quell her rebellious urges, and she pressed her fist halfheartedly to her palm before she knew what she was doing. All bowed… and all cleared the way, allowing the Fire Lord to claim a seat of honor upon the dais where the ceremony would be held: a tall, throne-like chair awaited him. Thus, he took his place in it with all his men flanking him, right underneath the daunting, golden effigy of an elegant phoenix. He appeared to take that seat as a threat… at least, that was what it felt like to Tiang, who frowned heavily once everyone rose again.

"Is… is that normal?" Jin asked, softly. "I know he's the Fire Lord, but…"

"I've witnessed no royal weddings before, so… I don't know," Tiang admitted, swallowing hard. He and Lu Ten had been friends since childhood, but Tiang certainly hadn't been important enough at the time to witness Fire Lord Ozai's own wedding to the long-gone lady Ursa. "Still… it's hard to believe they'd be held this way. It's like he's…"

"Threatening them. And us," Kori finished, quietly. Tiang nodded in agreement, scowling.

Silence, absolute and oppressive, spread across the chamber now. Ozai's tall seat allowed him to lord over the ceremony, ensuring it would be held on his terms. His men, utterly out of place in a wedding ceremony, stood by him without any concern for the propriety of this event… a fact that did seem to bother one man who watched from the sidelines so far, and who frowned at his best friend before releasing a displeased sigh.

Wearing a traditional groom's outfit seemed wrong for a man who had as good as made a fashion statement of his Admiral's armor. Zhao felt sickened in such robes, twitching visibly as he waited impatiently for the Head Sage to take his place in the dais… and for his unwilling bride to appear at last, too. He wanted to retch as he stood right outside the grand hall. Maybe Azula would make a run for it, setting them both free from this wretched burden, which neither of them could have ever wanted…

Such hopes were dashed and destroyed when the Head Sage appeared around a corner, leading Princess Azula towards the man she'd be forced to marry.

She barely looked like herself. Zhao's chest tightened as a surge of unwanted, mournful compassion stirred inside him: he couldn't underestimate her, even when she seemed so broken. Treating her as a child, or even as a defenseless woman, would be a mistake. She had already proven herself capable of terrible things… she and her gladiator, both. However she presented herself right now, she was dangerous still. He couldn't forget that, he couldn't drop his guard…

He had never seen a more broken expression on Azula's face.

"I shall head inside first. Once I announce the beginning of the ceremony, both of you shall walk together to the altar," the Head Sage instructed them. Zhao swallowed hard and nodded.

"As you wish," he spoke: the Head Sage gazed at Azula with concerned eyes, but the young woman didn't respond to his words.

He bowed his head, then, and walked away quietly. The utter silence in the building would suit a funeral far better than a wedding… same as the vacancy in the Princess's eyes. She hadn't looked at Zhao, not even once. Her gaze lingered on the floor as she struggled to keep her head as upright as possible. She had shut down, it seemed… clearing her mind entirely just so she could pull through with this ceremony. If this was an act with which she'd hide her devious plans to uproot her father's own schemes, it was a remarkably good one, even for Azula's standards.

He couldn't speak to her. He didn't have it in him, whether to threaten her not to pull anything strange, or to reassure her that he had no ill intent towards her. All he could do was stand by her, eyeing the ceremonial hall with unease, waiting for the Head Sage to reappear within it… and then he did.

The old man didn't begin yet: he spoke with Ozai first, quietly, and Zhao wondered foolishly if perhaps he'd ask Ozai to climb off that seat… a foolish hope: Ozai himself had demanded to preside over the ceremony that way. While not being present in Ozai's ceremony due to his assignments in the war, Zhao knew Fire Lord Azulon hadn't threatened his son into marriage by acting like this. To think the day had come when Azulon, of all people, appeared less demanding and extreme in his behavior than Ozai did… it was a dark irony Zhao wished he weren't a witness or a victim of.

The tense situation within the grand hall seemed to worsen over whatever Ozai and the Head Sage spoke about: for a moment, Zhao feared the Fire Lord might lash out in outrage, going by the evident scowl on his face… but he waved a hand dismissively at the Head Sage, after a moment. The man bowed respectfully towards Ozai: whatever the Head Sage wanted had been granted dismissively, Ozai didn't appear pleased… but they might have witnessed a gruesome, unpleasant spectacle if he had found any sort of unforgivable fault in the older man's words.

"We're expected to go now," Zhao announced to Azula, once the Head Sage took his place, at the center of the dais.

Azula breathed deeply, the only sign that she had heard him. She didn't take his hand when he offered his: there was no way she'd let him touch the scar that had already marked her as another man's wife. Instead, she took a step forward, and Zhao lowered his hand as he followed her pace, accepting her rejection gracefully – truth be told, following wedding protocols when it came to an arranged, forced marriage seemed utterly absurd to him. This was a political union as well as a punishment. There was no point in pretending that there was any sort of attachment between them, not even for the crowd's benefit.

Slowly, they stepped into the open, and the eyes of their witnesses fell upon the unwilling match: Kori gasped as the Princess came into view, and her father wrapped a warning hand around her elbow, restraining her before she did anything out of place when the ceremony was scarcely beginning. Tiang's stomach sank: it was wrong, on so many levels… and he lacked any sort of power to put a stop to it, especially when the Fire Lord's merciless glare followed his daughter intently, waiting for any sign of rebellion to snuff it out at once.

Whether the crowd pitied her, whether they resented her, whether they were plainly confused… none of it could matter to Azula anymore. Her body moved on its own as a sprawling, sickening feeling spread from her gut… a feeling quite similar to the chi corruption she had grown terribly acquainted with. Even so, even if her legs threatened to buckle, if her bowed head wasn't strong enough to remain upright, she kept going. She had to keep going… she had no choice but to keep going.

There was no best man, no maid of honor: Azula didn't need to glance about the room to make certain that neither of her friends had been invited to this ceremony. Ozai had no intentions of allowing her to stage any sort of plan, and he surely didn't trust Mai or Ty Lee enough to believe they would choose him over Azula yet. No guests would represent any form of menace for the Fire Lord's schemes… nobody would be a source of comfort for the Princess, not even the Head Sage: his previously remorseful behavior had transformed into professional solemnity once they stopped before him.

Azula appreciated the deafening silence in the grand hall: for just one more moment, until the Head Sage started, she could still be free from the chains that were poised to fall upon her, to trap her just like the ones that had captured Xin Long… for just one more moment.

"On this bright day, gifted to us by Fenghuang, the Phoenix that reigns above us, two of his children shall be united in sacred matrimony."

Her stomach churned, twisted, urged her to run out of the damn grand hall to throw up… to escape. To break Xin Long's chains, to fly far away. She didn't want this, she didn't want it any more than she'd wanted to drink Mai's brew…

But this time, there was no running away. This time, as sick as she felt, she had to stand where she did until the ceremony was over.

"Today, Admiral Zhao and Princess Azula shall exchange vows that will bind them together for as long as they may live: the two of you will present an offering of fire to Fenghuang, so that the sun that shines above blesses your union for the rest of your days."

Azula shuddered, no matter how she tried to repress the reaction: how could she stand here, listening to words so similar to the ones she'd heard half a year ago, unable to speak her mind, unable to reveal she already had given herself to someone else in a ceremony much like this one? She didn't want empty blessings for this hollow union… she didn't want to be linked to Zhao, ever.

"With the Fire Lord as our witness, as well as our many upstanding guests, let us begin this wedding ceremony."

The witnesses, the maid of honor, the best man, were supposed to vouch for the union, ensuring it was done without coercion of any kind. Not today, though… not when it was indeed an arranged, forced marriage where neither party wanted the other. She had the strength to raise her gaze towards the Head Sage as he began reading aloud from the Book of Fire… the strength to let her eyes travel further back, to find her father's merciless glare bearing into her own eyes.

She tore her eyes off him, immediately. She would find no compassion, no remorse, no acknowledgement that this was the worst choice he could have made to punish her. He wanted her destroyed, defeated… and his wish would be fulfilled, no matter if Azula rejected it so deeply in her heart. He wanted to break her… and he already had succeeded.

The ceremony proceeded smoothly, as the Head Sage read aloud the proper passages from the Book of Fire. Occasional mutters could be heard within the grand hall, quickly silenced whenever the Fire Lord took a deep breath, loudly, to express his displeasure wordlessly. Everyone had been cowed into utter submission… everyone overpowered by the man on that dais, the man who controlled every guard positioned around the hall, throughout the Temple, even the soldiers that stood by the stairs. No one would get in without proper clearance and invitations: and if anyone with clearance dared make a single move out of line, they would be punished severely before they knew it. Absolute, certain control: even then, Ozai didn't relax, not even for an instant. His cruel glare bore into the Head Sage's back, or into his daughter's broken shape, even into Zhao's resentful figure: the only one who dared meet his eyes was him, even if he didn't question Ozai's choices openly. His mistakes had landed him here, as far as Ozai was concerned… and this was how he'd pay for them, just as much as the Princess would.

If only those passages were longer still… if only the Head Sage could read the whole damn book out loud. Where Azula had been eager for Sage Ryu to reach the core of the ceremony in Firelight Town, she now regretted how quick that wedding ceremony had been, altogether. Had it taken any longer, she would have had more time to savor it, to rejoice in it… but she had wanted to call Sokka her husband so eagerly she couldn't think things through, not at that point. They had been childish and careless, she knew so now… for, if that was the only full Fire Nation ceremonial wedding she'd ever have with the man she loved, it had ended far too quickly. This one, even if it lasted hours, should never end solely for the sake of delaying the inevitable…

But once the Head Sage finished the readings, it was time to move along to the next stage:

"Two bonded souls must swear absolute fealty to each other: the truest respect must be fostered and strengthened between you. You shall be expected to stand by each other, at the best times as well as the worst, to nurture the bond that exists between you, to see to each other's health, to protect your union from anything that may threaten it. Above all, you shall cherish each other for the rest of your days, treasuring your companionship and providing for your family, until the moment of your death. Swear to Fenghuang, and to each other, that you shall uphold each of these vows."

Zhao bowed his head towards the Fire Lord… no, towards the effigy of the phoenix that stood above him. When he spoke, his firm voice lacked any emotion, altogether:

"I swear this, to Fenghuang," he said, before rising again, turning towards Azula: he bowed his head in her direction as well, only slightly. "And I swear this to you, Azula."

Again, her stomach threatened to upend: she had lied so many times, but this… this wasn't a lie she was prepared to speak. She had no choice, she knew so, and yet…

She gritted her teeth, glancing at the Head Sage first, who nodded in her direction, as though encouraging her to follow on Zhao's example. Then, her eyes fell upon Ozai's: once more, no mercy would be found in his furious glare.

So she closed her eyes, and bowed.

"I swear this, to Fenghuang…" she spoke with a shaky voice, far more softly than she should have, yet loudly enough for Zhao and the Head Sage to hear it. Then she rose once more, turning to face Zhao… unwilling, however, to meet his gaze before she bowed, struggling with the accursed weight of the hair adornments. "And I swear this to you, Zhao."

She could nearly hear her father rising from his seat to shout she was being untruthful, that her words were empty… she could imagine Zhao scoffing, for her vow couldn't be true, not when everyone knew where her heart truly resided, to whom it truly belonged. The whole wedding would be stopped, for never would a vow as dishonest as hers stand true to the demands of Fenghuang: she would spend every waking moment of her life loving another man, cherishing that bond, longing for him with her every heartbeat. And if she couldn't have him… if she had to live this farce for the rest of her days, she treasonously hoped she'd have very little left of it to live.

Nothing happened once she rose back to her full height: no sign of disapproval, no dismissal of her vow as false. She rotated in place once more, unwilling and unable to raise her eyes towards that dais again. It took her every ounce of strength to restrain the tears that built in her eyes, to ignore the slowly collapsing heart inside her chest as she gave up… as she gave in, surrendering to her father's plots once more.

"You have offered your vows from the heart, and Fenghuang shall receive them gladly," the Head Sage continued. Azula grinded her teeth at those words: she'd done no such thing, but the damn ceremony wouldn't be over unless the Sage said so… "Now, it is time for your final offering: you shall light the nuptial candle, symbol of your devotion, together."

Azula breathed sharply, releasing the breath slowly as the Head Sage walked to the side of the dais, collecting a tall, thick, red candle… as well as a thin, white one, something that startled Zhao.

"Why is…?" he asked, inevitably: they were two firebenders. There was no need for either of them to light the nuptial candle the way non-benders would…

"The latest of the Princess's chi readings revealed she is still in no shape to firebend, I fear," the Head Sage explained. Zhao frowned, immediately dismissing the words as an excuse. "The ceremony will be just as valid this way, Admiral Zhao. You needn't worry."

For a moment, Zhao had hoped the use of the long candle to light the nuptial one could rule the matrimony between two firebenders as false… but he sighed in submission and nodded, guessing they wouldn't be so lucky. The Head Sage placed the nuptial candle at the altar before reciting the purifying words that accompanied the small flame he evoked at the long candle. Azula swallowed hard as the man offered it to her… and a rush of confusion, sudden mutterings, now spread across the witnesses, who certainly had expected the Princess to wield her famous blue fire.

"Silence!"

The Fire Lord's demanding, harsh voice quelled every mumble instantly. Even those who hadn't spoken shrank in place under his evident fury. He wasn't any more pleased than everyone else… but he knew what the general public did not: Azula's health was at its most precarious now, in a worse state than it had been in her life. The ceremony would still be valid even if Azula didn't use her personal fire, it made no matter either way, for this was a symbolic rite, in the end… if this was the only damn rebellion she would attempt today, Ozai would relent: the Head Sage had told him, just before the ceremony, that her chi regeneration rate had apparently taken an abrupt stop since he had last inspected her.

That her father didn't protest against her choice, that he had only forced the crowd to fall quiet, nearly terrified Azula more than any of his past tantrums had. Her hand trembled as she held the candle, and her feet seemed to fail her when she was expected to climb the dais, along with Zhao, to light the nuptial candle together. That lone, simple, purified flame swayed at the tip of her candle's stem, innocent to what it represented, unaware of what its purpose would be. Truthfully, Azula wasn't sure she could evoke even a simple flame anymore. She hadn't tried, not as of late… she had no interest in trying right now, either. The outcome of the last time she had attempted to firebend still tormented her to this day. She was weak, so weak… and that weak woman was the one who would light a candle with Admiral Zhao now.

The man beside her raised two fingers, summoning a small plum of fire, angling his hand towards the candle. Azula closed her eyes, breathing deeply before slowly guiding her thin candle towards the thicker stem of the nuptial one…

They lit it at the same time. The fire spiked, stoked by Zhao's firebending, and a round of polite applause followed. Azula withdrew her candle, and Zhao withdrew his fingers as well.

It was done, then.

What she had avoided for years, what she had prevented by every possible means she could think of… she couldn't run away from it anymore.

Her life as Crown Princess Azula had ended.

"The light of this candle, the fire that burns before us, needs to be nurtured, taken care of, just as the fire you share for each other does. You have already sworn to uphold the noblest of loyalties for each other, and you have lit the candle that symbolizes your love," the Head Sage spoke, and Azula held back a snarl: love? It was the traditional speech, she knew so, but she felt she could have crushed the candle she still held, kicking the altar down with sheer fury at the misuse of the word. This was no union of love… everyone could see that.

The next words the Head Sage would speak would only worsen matters: her stomach sank, and she dreaded she'd be sick in front of the whole crowd…

"Therefore, it is my great honor to allow Fenghuang to speak through me, as I announce that, from this day forward, Zhao and Azula shall be known as husband and wife."

The ceremony had ended.

Again, a round of polite applause rang inside the hall: some people didn't clap at all, such as the four at the back of the room, who watched the dais with utmost chagrin. Most weddings ended with a cheerful kiss between the bride and groom: neither Azula nor Zhao made a single move to do as much. Fortunately, it seemed the Fire Lord wouldn't demand for it, either.

But the clapping continued, and it seemed fitting to Azula that it would: it was a similar means of twisted entertainment as what the old Amateur League had been founded on, translated to the higher circles of society. It was no challenge to recognize an unwilling, forced marriage when it happened… it certainly had to be no challenge now, either. But much as the violence-eager bastards from the crime dens thrived in watching two slaves battling to the death unwillingly, the worst of her father's nobles rejoiced in witnessing this forced union, a spectacle of cruelty they watched from the sidelines, unaffected by the slow destruction of two lives before their eyes.

Ozai rose to his feet and the applause dwindled into silence again. Azula didn't know what he intended to do… until she glimpsed a gold hairpiece in her father's hand. Her jaw clenched as she stepped back, away from the center of attention.

Zhao lingered by the altar, where he exchanged a meaningful stare with Ozai. The Admiral took a deep breath before turning to face the many witnesses of his wedding: he knelt ceremoniously, eyes shifting across the crowd, identifying several familiar faces in it, such as every member of Ozai's council. Whether they envied or judged him, he couldn't tell within the dark hall, but most eyes watched in awe as the Fire Lord placed the gold hairpiece in the Head Sage's hands. The man bowed to Ozai curtly before stepping towards Zhao: reverent silence took hold of the witnesses as the Head Sage raised the golden hairpiece solemnly.

Azula had heard those words once before: on the day she had knelt in her father's Throne Room, when she had been presented the golden armor that she had worn proudly for years. The golden armor that had been rendered useless, broken and scarred much as she was… perhaps she should have taken that as an ill omen, even if she had never been too superstitious. Yet to hear those words again, spoken to Zhao, in virtue of having attained this title through marriage to her… if only things had never taken such a dark turn, she might have only heard them anew when her own child was ready to inherit the throne. She would have welcomed hearing them for her brother, or his progeny, if he had become Fire Lord after Ozai… at this point, anything was preferable than reality. Anything…

But the oaths of the Crown Prince continued, and Zhao responded affirmatively for each one. Every line stabbed at Azula's heart, so battered and broken now that the pain was practically comforting for its persistence, a strange form of stability within such grim circumstances… until, at last, the final oath was spoken:

"Do you swear, by the blood that built our nation, by the lives of the Fire Lord and his forefathers before him, to uphold your nation's honor until your last breath?"

"I swear," Zhao responded, firmly.

The Head Sage raised the hairpiece, so all would see it: he lowered his hands gradually, lodging the ornament right before Zhao's top knot. A soft murmur across the crowd could be heard then, moments before the ceremonial crowning was finished.

Ozai's eyes shifted towards his daughter, as though challenging her with a cruel glare to make her move now… or to surrender in silence, if she didn't dare do so. She felt his stare, but she didn't respond to it: she watched Zhao instead, with mournful eyes that grieved once more for everything she'd lost… everything she'd surrendered.

"With this hairpiece, and with the Fire Lord, Princess Azula, the sages of the Capital Temple and our upstanding citizens as witnesses…" the Head Sage spoke, his voice almost shaking as he spoke words that tasted of ashes. "… I now declare you Crown Prince Zhao of our Nation of Fire."

Ozai breathed deeply, tearing his gaze from Azula and focusing on his friend, instead: Zhao awaited his next command on his knees.

"Rise, my heir. Crown Prince Zhao."

The Admiral obeyed: every person in attendance but the Fire Lord bowed their torsos forward. Azula moved slowly, pressing her fist to her palm, shutting her eyes tightly. In the face of so much grief, losing her title didn't seem as bad as most the hardships she had faced lately… but it still hurt.

Zhao stood strong, breathing deeply as he eyed all the people before him with uncertainty. He had married into the Fire Nation's Royal Family… he was the Fire Lord's heir now. After being born an innocent child in the colonies, after committing a terrible crime against his nation's soldiers, he had thought his life would end on the day he had been presented to Fire Lord Azulon, the most powerful man in their world… then he had been saved by another boy, scarcely a year older than himself, who had given him a chance to live another life, to make something of his existence, to serve his nation with his powerful fire.

Today, that man stood behind him, watching him intently as that hairpiece glistened. Zhao had never expected to progress as he had… he had never believed the day would come when he would be the next in line for the throne, when he would be the second-most powerful man in the whole world. That day had arrived, though… and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Ozai recognized confusion, rather than rejection, in the Admiral's face. Whatever troubled emotions he might have felt over the ceremony, the truth was that the marriage itself barely mattered. Its purpose was this outcome: Zhao was the only man worthy of becoming his heir… Zhao, the first friend he'd ever made.

Ozai still remembered so clearly, so vividly, how he strode into the Capital's military Academy, nerves nearly doing away with him, as he sought to recruit whoever he could for his grand mission, as commanded by Fire Lord Azulon.

No squads of guards were available for his use – he had yet to assemble his own Royal Guards, for he wasn't of the right age for that privilege yet. The Domestic Forces, Azulon had said, weren't for him to make use of for personal voyages: the Fire Lord was adamant that he had to recruit soldiers on his own and he had authorized Ozai to do so in the Academy. Ozai hoped to find well-trained soldiers there, enough of them to help him in his dangerous quest to find the Avatar. Perhaps he could persuade one of the instructors to join him, to bring his whole class along. The instructor could even help him learn more about military leadership: he should be thrilled to take to the seas and set out with his young soldiers on a mission in the field instead of staying within the confines of the Academy…

Such were his childish fantasies when he arrived, fantasies that collapsed immediately when the Academy's director almost scoffed in his face at his enthusiastic request.

"Impossible," he stated, bluntly. Ozai's excitement faded at once, as utmost confusion took hold of him. "I cannot, and will not, give any orders for our Academy to spare soldiers for whatever petty journey you intend to undertake. Finding the Avatar? It's a fool's errand. You will fail, and you would waste the formative years of recruits who would do much more for our nation by fighting in the frontlines than by sailing about, chasing folktales."

"That… the Avatar is no folktale," Ozai had said, swallowing hard: he was used to arguing with his brother, to backing down with his father… he had no knowledge of how to handle arguments with strangers, especially strangers who had the power to block his initiatives and plans with a single word. Respect was the obvious answer, but his body shivered unpleasantly when all his dreams of a wondrous voyage seemed to dwindle into nothingness. "The Fire Lord has given me this task, and I cannot take to the seas on my own. If I am to find the Avatar, I must have help…"

"If so, you'd do best to knock on people's doors and invite them on this fun trip of yours personally, Prince Ozai," the man answered, sardonically – the Prince's thin patience began to wear, as his brow drew together slowly. "I don't see why I should do your job myself. Surely Fire Lord Azulon has set this task so you prove yourself to him… so far, you've done a sorry job at selling why this venture of yours is so important. We have more pressing matters to deal with, a war fought on countless fronts, and finding the Avatar has already proven to be impossible."

"If my brother has been able to slay the last of the dragons, I'm sure finding the Avatar won't be as challenging a task as that," Ozai said, scowling. "Nobody refused to join him, though…"

"Your brother, if you so wish to know, attended this Academy and earned the loyalty of numerous soldiers even before graduation," the director said. "You? You're but the second child of the Fire Lord…"

"Which should mean something to people with any sense in their heads," Ozai hissed. The director chuckled, shaking his head.

"Then I don't see how it means anything to you: a man who interrupts others when asking them for a favor is certainly displaying no sense at all," the director said, scowling. Ozai shrank in place, uncertain and unsteady. "Go home or sail alone. If you cannot earn the loyalty of any soldiers with your own charisma, and you must beg me to spare you scraps just to get by, then I rue the day you find the Avatar, Prince Ozai: you aren't ready to face a master of four elements, let alone to fight and defeat one, much less kill one. Until the day you are…"

"I will be ready!" Ozai exclaimed, disregarding the man's taunt over his willingness to interrupt him quickly. The director huffed. "All I need, all I'm asking for, is one chance: I will make the most of it! I will make my father proud, I will strengthen myself to find, defeat and bring the Avatar back to the Fire Lord, as he requested! If you give me that chance… I won't forget it. A Prince's favor isn't something to take lightly, is it? Surely… surely it's worth it, having me indebted to you? Whoever comes with me will be stronger for this experience, too…!"

"Ugh, you are persistent, for certain…" the director sighed, shaking his head before studying Ozai intently. "One chance, you said?"

"O-one… one chance, yes," Ozai nodded.

Somehow, the man's smile only seemed ominous, even if it meant Ozai was about to get what he wanted, in whatever roundabout way it would happen…

And it was roundabout indeed: within twenty minutes, a young Prince Ozai stood before every available recruit within the Academy, in one of its inner courtyards. Many men, some twice his age, a few of them towering over him – even though Ozai had always been quite tall, or so he had believed –, all of them utterly humorless, waited for him to say his piece. The director had summoned every class in the Academy to that courtyard, asking the instructors to spare their soldiers just for a short time to humor the Fire Lord's second son briefly. Some recruits welcomed the respite from the demanding lessons, others seemed to find this ordeal utterly pointless… and Ozai's chest tightened as he dreaded it might be.

"Well?" the director said, his voice teasing. "They're yours to sway, Prince Ozai."

Ozai swallowed hard as he stepped up, climbing a small ledge in the courtyard to ensure everyone could see him. He trembled violently, but his convictions would not waver. He was strong and he would prove that to them through his words first, through his actions once they set out on this voyage…

"Good day!" he started, unsure if that was the right choice to begin a speech. A few crooked, mocking grins suggested it wasn't. "I… I am Prince Ozai, second-born son of Fire Lord Azulon! I have been tasked with a mission of great importance, and I need the strongest, the most ambitious and adventurous recruits to join me in it!"

The smiles shifted, and he detected curiosity in some of their faces. His heart raced, hoping he would sway some of them, at the very least.

"My father has requested that I take to the seas and seek out the greatest enemy of the Fire Nation: the Avatar!" he declared, and a sudden rumor of voices stirred among the recruits.

Ozai couldn't make sense of their words, just as he couldn't seem to put a stop to their chatter once it began: several of the recruits laughed, others gawked at him in confusion, many talked among themselves, perhaps about the greatness of his mission, Ozai hoped… perhaps about the futility of it. His fists tightened and he raised one over his head, conjuring a powerful plum of fire that he shot through the air, startling many of the recruits into paying attention to him once more.

"This is not a quest to be taken lightly!" he continued, frowning heavily. "It's a great honor, but a dangerous one as well! If you wish to join me, you will be commended for your bravery and your loyalty to our great nation! You will be remembered as heroes by history once we've captured the Avatar and ensured he won't ever stop the legacy of fire that Fire Lord Azulon intends to spread across the world! I will stop at nothing until we've found the Avatar! This, I swear!"

The mutterings started again, as Ozai swallowed hard and watched the group of soldiers intently. Nerves gnawed away at him, evident by how he breathed anxiously.

"S-so… any takers?" he asked, swallowing hard.

He could see some eyes glistening with interest, with curiosity: his chest tightened with excitement, hoping his own enthusiasm would cause them, any of them, to step forward…

Nothing.

His excitement dwindled, replaced by fear: no one would join him? Not a single man? That… that couldn't be right. He was offering them a great opportunity, wasn't he? How could they snub it so easily, so carelessly?

Mutterings started again, and this time he wasn't brave enough to silence them by tossing a fire punch into the air. He stood quietly, watching them anxiously… couldn't at least one of them step forward? Were they afraid of being judged? They could even ask him questions, if they wanted to… anything, so long as he could feel he hadn't messed up. Anyone… just, anyone…

He lowered his head, trembling violently… when sudden movement in the group startled him:

"I'll go."

The noise was all the louder now, as Ozai's spirits rose at once: a young man, close to his age, stood at the center of the group. Everyone had turned to look at him, and he held his head high as he regarded Ozai with defiance. He would likely be able to grow a spectacular beard one day, Ozai guessed, going by how thick his sideburns already were…

"Zhao!" hissed one of the instructors at the edge of the courtyard. The young man's nonchalant air gave away that he had no intention of abiding by whatever this authority figure wanted from him.

"I'll do it, I said," Zhao responded, folding his arms over his chest as he regarded Ozai with certainty, as though there was nothing to fear about taking up this strange mission with the Prince.

He was familiar… though Ozai couldn't place him yet. Why would he be familiar at all? He'd seldom seen people his age, his father had little patience for teenagers or children, and he had refused to send Ozai to the Academy or any type of schooling outside the Palace. Why, then…?

His confusion and curiosity about the young man named Zhao dwindled, though, when he realized no one else had stepped forward to follow the example set by the arrogant recruit. Ozai swallowed hard, glancing about the others with uncertainty: nothing? Truly… no one else?

"I think you've said your piece, Prince Ozai," the director spoke, and an unpleasant shiver ran down Ozai's spine. "You're done here."

Done? With just one soldier? That wasn't enough. That couldn't be enough, he would never succeed at capturing the Avatar with just one recruit, half-trained as he was bound to be… Ozai himself only knew firebending, with no military training or experience to his name. He shuddered, knowing he couldn't overstep himself… knowing, too, that this wouldn't suffice. He swallowed hard and spoke out again, to the director's displeasure.

"I… I will wait for you, in the harbor," he said, eyes shifting across the crowd of recruits, slowing at Zhao. "My ship will be ready to set sail tomorrow. I thank you for your willingness to serve your nation. This is the best way to do it, I promise. You won't regret joining me, and neither will anyone else who chooses to join me as well. I… I hope all of you will think on my offer. Thank you, in advance."

He bowed his head curtly towards them, then he turned on his heels. If that wasn't how he should finish a speech, so be it… he had no idea what he was doing. He had never given a damn speech before, for starters, and the director's harsh intervention had only worsened matters. Perhaps, if he'd had a little more time, a chance to explain how generously he'd reward the man who'd joined him, the others would wish to join too… but everything seemed poised against him, much as it was back at home. His chest tightened as he walked away, nearly in tears, afraid that his grand voyage might amount to nothing if he truly couldn't sway more than that one recruit…

He barely slept that night, anxious and desperate as he felt. Morning arrived and he ensured his bags were properly packed by the servants, who then were tasked with carrying them to his ship, an old model Azulon had agreed to spare for his use. Whatever happened with the recruits, Ozai would change his luck starting today: he would succeed where his father had failed and gain his respect at last. That was what mattered the most.

Sailors worked hard to prepare the ship when Ozai arrived, hoisted by his palanquin bearers. He rushed on board, quick to ask the ship's captain if any soldiers had presented themselves: he received an immediate negative answer. Ozai froze in place, but he resolved to wait. He hadn't given them a deadline after all, so surely that Zhao would turn up sooner than later, and hopefully others would follow his example, too…

An hour passed.

Two hours.

Three hours.

He sat on the deck with his face buried in his hand as the noon sun glowed mercilessly upon him. They should be here already. Someone should show up by now, it made no sense that no one would, not even the one who'd stepped forward after Ozai's speech. Who didn't wish to have a prince indebted to them? Who wouldn't wish to partake in the greatest adventure of their lifetimes? Perhaps they'd gone to the wrong ship… perhaps they sought a more opulent one, expecting more grandeur from a Prince?

It was a childish hope to cling to, but he refused to believe none of the recruits would want to participate in such an important, honorable mission. He shivered as he glanced over the railing of his ship's deck, hoping to spot any soldiers nearby, soldiers who weren't just patrolling the port…

He couldn't bear waiting here and doing nothing. He climbed off the ship and rushed down to the pier, racing hastily throughout the harbor: the young man who had spoken out yesterday would be enough, he no longer hoped for more than that. Someone had to come, someone would… someone surely had, and they had simply lost their way when searching for his ship. It was the only explanation…

Two hours of searching yielded no results. He had never felt so disheartened, the very grounds underneath his feet so unstable he nearly stumbled on his way back to his ship. Had his speech been so bad? Had he truly lacked the charisma and leadership to persuade anyone? No… it wasn't his fault. It couldn't be. They were the ones who lacked ambition, who couldn't recognize a great opportunity when it stared them in the face. They would regret snubbing him just as Iroh would regret mocking him, just as Azulon would regret looking down on him…

He froze upon climbing the ramp to his ship again: a young man, carrying a small bag, stood in the middle of the deck, gazing about himself as he waited for something: Ozai recognized him at once as the only recruit who had stepped forward yesterday.

"You…! Oh, eh, greetings!" he exclaimed, almost stumbling off the ramp as he rushed towards the young man.

Ozai froze in place when Zhao turned around: he definitely recognized that face, even more so up close… though Ozai couldn't place it, still. He had the feeling he hadn't seen it in a long time, though…

"Ah. Prince Ozai, right?" the young man said, smiling carelessly: a few strands of his hair stuck out rebelliously from his otherwise perfect top knot. "You haven't changed much since that day, heh. Nice to see you again."

"Since… that day?" Ozai repeated, blinking blankly.

"Guess you forgot, huh?" Zhao shrugged. "No surprises there, I was a nobody after all. But… I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, you know?"

"W-well, I guess so. I asked if you wished to join me…" Ozai said, but Zhao laughed and shook his head.

"That's not what I mean," he said. "I… I was probably going to be executed, and you intervened. The Fire Lord… he gave me a chance to serve in the army because I was a promising firebender, all because you asked him to let me live and serve the Fire Nation."

Ozai was utterly stunned now, his jaw dropped. Zhao snickered, shrugging again at the young man's shock… though he couldn't stay nonchalant once the Prince placed his hands on his shoulders, shaking him suddenly.

"It's you?! You're the kid from that day!" he exclaimed, and his face broke into a bright smile. "You made it this far, then? You must be a great recruit by now…!"

"Uh… don't know if my instructors would agree with that," Zhao said, amused. "Apparently, I'm a piece of shit who can't do what he's told, eh?"

"Y-you… you are?" Ozai asked, releasing him from his hold. Zhao snickered and placed his hands on his hips.

"I don't feel like listening to boring, stubborn old men who tell me I have to hold back and restrain my fire. I'm dangerous, right? Why shouldn't I use that for the Fire Nation's sake?" he said, smirking. "I don't care for authority figures, but you saved my life and you strike me as someone who's not going to give me stupid orders to hold back in the face of danger…"

"I… w-well, I wouldn't, but I've never really led anyone in a mission before. This… it's my first," Ozai admitted, with a shy shrug. Zhao laughed happily.

"Great! That makes it better then: you and I will lead this ship and everyone else will do what we tell them to," he snickered. Ozai swallowed hard.

"I won't mind that, especially if you're that kid…" he said, glancing about himself. "But if more experienced soldiers join us too, we may have to dispute authority with them, I guess. Not a lot of people take me seriously…"

"Oh? Well, I think they do, but…" Zhao said, scratching the back of his neck before sighing. "I'll level with you: no one else is coming, Prince Ozai."

"W-what…?" Ozai frowned, startled by Zhao's sudden, honest claim.

"Once you left, that sparkbender who's supposed to train me lately told me off for saying I'd join you at all," Zhao said, breathing deeply. "Fact is, before you gave your speech, just when we were asked to go listen, well… the director warned us not to join you. Which is, partly, why I wanted to do it: piss on him and his lot, bunch of old farts with nothing but dung for brains…"

"W-why would he…?" Ozai asked, horrified, mortified… Zhao shrugged, his mouth a tight line.

"Might be the fault of the oldest fart of the bunch…" he ventured. "I wasn't paying enough attention, but I'm pretty sure he said something along the lines of 'Fire Lord's orders' at some point, so…"

Fire Lord's orders?

Of course. Everything made sense now.

"My father ordered them not to…?" Ozai repeated… and where Zhao might have dreaded he would be depressed, miserable, Ozai only scowled in unbridled fury. "He ordered them not to join me. That's… that's why. He wants me to fail. He wants me to fail!"

"Well, to tell you the truth, finding the Avatar does sound like a crazy quest," Zhao said, stretching his neck from side to side. "Are there any leads to follow, for starters? If there were… do we know they'll take us somewhere productive? Could be the Avatar's dead and gone, like all the Air Nomads…"

"Then he would have been reborn in the Water Tribes," Ozai said, scowling.

"And that means we're not likely to get to him, right?" Zhao sighed. "If he's in the North, well… that's definitely bad news. I don't know a lot about them but my old master, Jeong Jeong? He said their waterbenders are the strongest in the world."

"My father's been attacking the southern waterbenders for a long time," Ozai said, frowning "That… that must be why. He hopes the Avatar will be found there, and he wants to kill him before he is."

"But if the old Air Nomad Avatar hasn't died yet…" Zhao ventured: Ozai's lips spread into a devious smirk.

"If he hasn't died yet, we can find him. My father won't be able to track him down among the waterbenders if that's the case," Ozai declared. "We… we will investigate everything we can about the Avatar, about his past lives, anything we can do to find the best methods to track him down."

"Sounds like a plan," Zhao smiled, nodding.

"We'll start with the Sages from the Crescent Island Temple," Ozai stated, frowning heavily. "They knew Avatar Roku… they might have papers, more information about the Avatar than we'd find anywhere else in the Fire Nation."

"Huh, that's a thought," Zhao said, tapping his chin. "Then… what're we waiting for?"

"I…" Ozai glanced about the harbor, uncertain.

What were they waiting for? More recruits? If what Zhao had said was true… nobody but him would join in. This trip would be difficult enough as it was to add delays to their problems, too…

"What… what did your instructor tell you, exactly?" Ozai asked, softly. "Did he scold you badly? I hope he didn't kick you from the Academy…"

"Doesn't matter much if he did, I'll just go back to Jeong Jeong if that happens. He's serving in the Earth Kingdom right now, got sent there for I don't know what operation a couple months ago," Zhao smirked. "He'll be so horrified to see me again that he'll pull every string in the world to make sure I'm taken in by another instructor, far away from him."

"The great Admiral Jeong Jeong dislikes you that much…?" Ozai asked, puzzled. Zhao shrugged.

"He's about as lame as your old man, you know? Always trying to sabotage me, always holding me back instead of pushing me to do my best…" Zhao grumbled, his mood darkening for the first time since he climbed aboard the ship.

Ozai's heart sank: yes, he never wanted to acknowledge it, but he knew the truth, even so. Azulon wanted to set him up for failure on every possible level. He didn't want Ozai to triumph at anything… but if Ozai ever did, if he returned home as a hero, his full council would acknowledge him. Azulon wouldn't be able to shrug off Ozai as he always did… he wouldn't have the strength, the excuses, to do so. If Zhao came along with him, too, they would become a team, an unstoppable one. All the stubborn old bastards, as Zhao had put it, would have no choice but to bow down to them.

So Ozai's fists tightened, but he raised his head with a proud smile, stepping towards Zhao and placing a hand on his shoulder again. Zhao raised his eyebrows, surprised by the sudden enthusiasm displayed by the Prince.

"They'll see what we can do. We'll show them, Zhao… u-uh, that is your name, right? It's what that instructor called you…" Ozai said, his confidence quickly fading when the young man gazed at him quizzically. Zhao snorted and laughed before nodding, removing Ozai's hand from his shoulder only to clasp it firmly in a firm handshake.

"We're off to show them what we're made of," he declared, smiling proudly. "I've never cared to follow anyone in the past, but… I guess I might end up having fun following you, Prince Ozai. Let's see where the world takes us, shall we?"

Ozai nodded proudly, clasping Zhao's hand firmly before giving orders to his sailors: they would take off through the waters of the Fire Nation first, and far beyond them once they were ready. They set sail as teenagers, young and innocent… he trusted, fully, that they would return as men, proud and strong, whom no one would look down upon ever again.

They were each other's first friend, a kindred spirit in whom they found understanding they'd never experienced elsewhere. They trusted one another fully, despite barely knowing each other, at the time. It was the beginning of a bond that had strengthened and thrived, a bond that they would treasure forever, as it was the mark of a grand friendship that would remain true, for its foundations were sturdy and strong…

Ozai hoped those foundations still stood as stalwart as when they were established, back in those days. Because now… now he had placed all his trust on that very man, the young boy who had stepped forward for him once before, who had chosen to travel alongside him when no one else did. His one true friend… the only man he could trust to be wed to his daughter and not take advantage of the situation for his own benefit.

Yet again, though, an unsettling feeling tugged away at his gut, much as the one that had bothered him when Azula had agreed to this wedding at last. Whatever it was, he wanted to set it aside, to ignore it: this should be a moment of celebration. His daughter had bowed down… his daughter had surrendered, and she was no longer Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. She was no longer his heir, a privilege she had lost over her poor judgment, over her utterly reckless, wrong decisions. This punishment was all she deserved, Ozai had no doubt of it. She could not be trusted at the helm of their great nation…

So why did it feel so wrong for that golden hairpiece to decorate Zhao's top knot, rather than hers? Why had his stomach twisted when Zhao agreed to each oath… twisting with an unwanted sensation he hadn't experienced in years? He remembered it from many years ago, from facing another woman in whose eyes burned a fire she had contained until it had unleashed in full… a fire like the one he had snuffed from Azula's own gaze. A fire he thought she had inherited from him… but there was enough of her mother in it, just as well. Of the woman who first introduced him to the wretched feeling that compelled him to glance at Azula again, bowing down as she was…

Guilt. That's what it was.

He grinded his teeth and scowled. He was Fire Lord: regret was a concept he shouldn't be acquainted with, not in the least. Yet it wasn't the first time he experienced it… though it certainly was the first time he felt it over Azula.

She stood there, silently, still bowing, showing no sign of rebellion once again. There had to be something, any sort of underlying plan… she couldn't have done this without a strategy in mind. Perhaps Iroh's accursed earthbender would shatter the Temple open from underground, attempting to kill everyone in the room but Azula… they were friends, after all. It would come as no surprise… if the midget remained in the city at all, of course, which apparently wasn't the case. So someone else: perhaps her treasonous guards were closer than he thought, perhaps the plan had been to keep everyone on a goose chase after them, only for them to return to the Fire Nation with her and start a civil war…?

Everyone began rising once Zhao gestured at them to stand upright again. Azula obeyed too, upon hearing others were straightening their posture once more… and still, her eyes lingered on the marble floor. Vacancy, emptiness… frustration, perhaps, because of her tightened right hand. Ozai's furrowed brow scrutinized her… he wanted her to fight back. He truly wanted her to take a stand and refuse his demands. If she did, he'd feel more justified. It would be easier to think he was right to do this… he'd shake off all the damn guilt he had no business experiencing at all.

She didn't meet his eyes. His heart sank when he wondered if she intended to keep her head down for the rest of her life.

Oh, but she should do that. Of course she should, after the wrong she'd done, after the mistakes she'd made… fool that he was, her sorry act almost broke his resolve somehow. What was wrong with him? Why would he allow this to stir his heart, when he had no such thing as a heart to begin with? He tore his eyes from her at last, furious with her… and far more furious with himself.

He had won. Azula had married Zhao, as he had determined she would. Whatever remorse he felt, he certainly wouldn't act on it, and he would shake it off immediately. There were still more than enough loose ends to tie up, a fair share of problems he needed to resolve before he knew, for certain, that his daughter would truly yield, with no more secrets, no more rotten bonds with the wrong people, such as her wretched slave… who, of course, was the very first of those loose ends.

She had taken him back to the Water Tribe. It was where he had to strike, then… that was where he'd find him. There would be no more guilt, no more complications, no more reasons to fear his daughter's devious mind… all of his frustrations would vanish when he succeeded at ridding the world from that loathsome Gladiator at long last.