Nobility is Relative

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Being a passenger on a Water Tribe vessel was a very different experience from the Fire Nation escort, and though she was not bound or harassed, Ursa struggled to acclimate to the change.

The door on her cabin was not locked, though there was nowhere for her to escape to anyway; the boat was too cramped and streamlined to carry life-rafts and the constant bustling of the crew ensured that the tribesmen knew where she was at all times without the need for lock and key. But then, the Chief had probably known this when he'd given her that room, being the same man who'd ambushed and overpowered multiple Fire Nation ships meant he was not one to be easily fooled and subverted. She didn't think anyone could realistically overpower a battleship with a sailboat without a brain to even the difference.

Had she not known this–and the fact that Hakoda went out of his way to keep her alive and safe from harm, Ursa would have stayed in her room, if only to avoid the glares some of the crew tossed her way. The stew and fish they offered, though simple, weren't unpleasant and it was quieter inside. There was some appeal in staying silent and uninvolved.

But the sun was a welcome sight, and she kept on deck during the midday hours at least to soak up the radiance, even as their departure from the Fire Nation dampened its rays.

Sometimes she watched the crew, how there was never a moment's rest for them and the constant labor necessary to work ships without the rumbling coal engines. Many of them weren't fond of her and she didn't think it was wise to confront them for it, staying center deck to lessen the ship's dipping and rocking. From what Hakoda said before, his people had scars of their own.

But the most important times were when Chief Hakoda decided to meet with her.

There wasn't always time, between the other tribesmen and the management of the vessel–and it was interesting to see how much effort the Chief personally put into the workload, whether it was necessary or not–but in the quieter downtime, Ursa expected to hear from him. He was dangerous of course, confirmed to be an effective enemy of the Fire Nation. The loyalist in her wanted to rebel but was aware it wouldn't amount to anything, if only to deprive her of the sparse amenities Hakoda gave her. But she could learn a lot from him whether she chose to cooperate or not, and that was something she couldn't pass up.

But when the constant work lessened and he had some free time, Hakoda called her into the captain's quarters to talk in private.

The first time Hakoda questioned her, it wasn't much of a meeting. Just one question, "I suspect you won't know the answer to this, but I'm still going to ask…where are our missing waterbenders?" Ursa didn't know. Fire Lord Azulon's campaign against the southern waterbenders was a long and determined one that reached even her ears, but the fate of the long lost prisoners wasn't information that anyone but high military would know. Hakoda's face was tired and disappointed but he didn't seem surprised to hear it, and sent her away without any other questions.

The later meetings on the other hand, were far more animated.

Hakoda never pulled his punches unless there was strategy in it for him, and Ursa made no effort to hide her loyalty to her country unless she was physically endangered by it. Neither of these barriers breached, already the Chief's interrogations turned into debates that left her mind racing and exhausted. Verbal spars could be an interesting diversion for her in the right setting; it was too bad he was supposed to be an enemy.

He questioned her about everything and, as long as the subject matter was neutral and nonthreatening, Ursa answered him to the best of her ability. Talks on the Fire Nation military (there wasn't much she could say about that), political (constantly shifting though he had a better grasp of the royal family), and economics subjects (fairly harmless to talk to talk about) didn't cause much of a fuss between them. She tried to steer him away from geography as much as possible, but there wasn't much she could really give away without a map to use for reference.

She wanted to confront him directly about what he hoped to gain beyond the cryptic bit of nothing he'd given her earlier, but held herself back. Ursa would be stuck with this man for as long as he chose, so not making him angry was a good first step. Hakoda seemed mellow enough so far, but she hadn't had the chance to really know him yet.

It was when they made the mistake of talking about Fire Nation beliefs and ethics that she could feel his behavior beginning to shift.

Hakoda had laughed about the Fire Lord without a trace of respect ("poor Kanna would have a heart attack if I came home and declared myself a god!"), and finally Ursa had stood up and firmly asked if he thought this was some kind of a joke to him. It was like her words then caused a hidden dam to be finally broken inside him. The warrior surged to his feet fast enough for Ursa to reflexively take a step back; not once during their voyage until that one moment had she genuinely thought he might hurt her, or be angry enough to consider it. But Hakoda didn't advance, only leaned over the table between them and splayed his fingers across the surface, laughing bitterly. "Yes, I do think it's a joke," He said steadily, "A cruel joke that a man can wage war just because of some misplaced sense of superiority."

Emboldened, Ursa shot back at him, "The Fire Nation is the greatest nation in the world."

The Chief just stared up at her tiredly, "Pretty much everyone says that about their own country; it's a simple matter of loyalty. Someone who's supposed to have so much pull within her nation shouldn't confuse what the difference is between patriotism and fact."

"Fact? If the Water Tribe has ships like ours, they're doing a very good job of hiding them, and even I know the Earth Kingdom doesn't," Hakoda looked like he had some very sharp things to say about their navy, but simply tightened his fingers and let her continue. "I've told you about what we've developed, how far we've come. The Fire Nation has moved into a new age of enlightenment, and it is our destiny to share our gift with the rest of the world."

And really, out of all the things she'd provoked him with over the course of their time together, that final sentence set him off the most.

"Share? You honestly believe that? I've seen the 'glorious future' your Fire Lord has in store for the rest of the world, and how far the policy of 'sharing' really goes," Hakoda pointed accusingly at the world map pinned to the wall of his room. "Do you think the Earth Kingdom would agree with you after having their lands burnt to nothing? And the Water Tribe know that the Fire Lord isn't interested in sharing, but taking."

Ursa paused, taken aback by the fierce anger and pain in his words, even as she had tensed up in defense of her argument against his claims. It wasn't just that he morally believed she was wrong, there was something else motivating him too and it was the key to understanding him. Her mind went back, searching. For their first talk, Hakoda had asked about the taken waterbenders with the hurt of someone who was personally involved and implied that everyone aboard his ship carried some kind of scar.

Ursa supposed it was only her bad luck that she trod all over it.

"Oh…you lost someone, didn't you?" The warrior reeled, his sudden anger kicked aside by surprise. "They were important to you, right? A loved one?"

Hakoda straightened, his hands curled into tight fists, "This conversation is over."

Ursa supposed that was for the best. Level-headed as he was most of the time, provoking him any more could result in a fallout she had no interest in catching the brunt of. She didn't say anything more, just giving the Chief one last last respectful nod before turning away from his sight, secluding herself back in her room with no more fuss.

And yet, despite folding and pulling back, she did learn some important things about Hakoda. He had grievances, both moral and logical (that he claimed–Hakoda had yet to show her his proof) as reasons for opposing the Fire Nation. But if his anger was what she thought it was, it wasn't either of those things that pushed him to actively enter the war, but a personal loss. Family and loved ones might have meant something different to the Water Tribe than what she knew, but Ursa was certain that trying to change him would be so much harder with a scar to fall back on.

She let it lie and drifted off on her cot, content to rest on the matter and revisit it when she was fresh and alert the following morning.

But Hakoda did not speak to her the next day, or the day after that.

Pushing his buttons made him skittish and wary of her, avoiding her as long as it suited him–an accomplishment of sorts given the size of the ship. Ursa wanted to offer a polite apology to the Chief for prodding him, but never managed to approach him.

Was it possible he had no more questions for her? Then what was next to give her, his proof?

The answer came in the form of landfall and plumes of smoke on the horizon.

Craggy shoreline crested by gnarled trees greeted them, and even having never seen a single trace of the Water Tribe homeland (or even outside her own land), Ursa knew what they had reached was the Earth Kingdom, not the South. The scent of smoke was thick in the air as they made anchor and stepped on shore, while the other southern ships patrolled the bay slowly.

Hakoda stayed away and led his warriors up the rough incline onto the embankment, but one of the younger warriors lingered behind to assist her with the trek, likely under the Chief's orders. Despite the many days spent together on the rolling seas, most of the tribesmen were not interested in interacting with her, but the younger men were at least somewhat polite if she addressed them. Even so, she could not help but compare the Chief's gentlemanly grip from the first day they met, to the assistance she received now that only did the bare minimum to keep her from tumbling to the ground.

But Ursa was quickly occupied by the trees clearing to reveal a fortress hidden not far from the coastline, patchwork walls made of chopped trees and irregular stone blocks made up the circumference, broken only by a portcullis gate fashioned from thick oak timbers. The sounds of metal clanging echoed from within.

A rebel base then. One that the Chief had visited before to walk to so confidently at that. Which was why is was little surprise to see Hakoda approach the gate alone and raise his arm in a signal, prompting the guard on the other side to raise the portcullis. At another gesture to the waiting warriors, they entered the fortress, and left the forest behind them.

Ursa expected to see military, Earth Kingdom soldiers dressed in armors of subdued green, judgmental gazes and sharpened sabers at the ready, but she was sharply mistaken. The "soldiers" inside the fortress had only the basest of supplies: rough leatherwork for armor, an ensemble of old military sabers and farm tools as weapons, and haunted eyes. And most of the people didn't have weapons at all, tending to the farms on the western side instead. The interior of the wall was shorn up–desperately–on the inside as well, and the houses looked very old and rundown.

"Not what you expected, I assume," Ursa startled to see Hakoda standing a meter away, eyes scanning the crowd as his people brought crates loaded with what she assumed was supplies to the bare-bones militia. She didn't answer, just nodded silently and waited. "There used to be an ordinary village here, too small to really have a name. But when the Fire Nation moved through the region north of here, families fleeing their homes found this settlement hidden away and made it into a refugee camp," He paused, mulling things over. "This is far from the only one, and not the largest I'm sure. Not everyone can afford to make the long passage to Ba Sing Se, if they'd even let you in."

Ursa stared at the walls, the people, the sparse defenses they carried, "Where are the stone walls, the military…?"

"Most of the people here aren't benders or they're not powerful enough to build the kind of fortifications they need. The camp is well-hidden and there's a good source of water, but no quarry from which to get the stone they'd need," Hakoda said carefully, but it sounded almost like he was back to his old self from before. "And the Earth Kingdom won't be able to send aid until a route opens up for them to do so."

Her eyes closed, understanding their plight, "This is what you wanted to show me? Your proof?"

"Not quite. You shouldn't hear it from just me. Talk to the refugees, give them your help, ask for their stories…" He looked at her, bright blue eyes both distant and warm, "Not all of them will want to speak I'm sure, but if you really want to understand the war, why we fight, the most important thing is to learn about who you are fighting. I've asked you my questions too, didn't I?"

Ursa did not reply in words, but she turned away from him and moved into the settlement, inspired to look for the "truth" he valued so highly. And it was true that many of the refugees didn't want to speak with her, not even knowing of where she hailed. But others did, some almost desperate to divulge what happened to them, how hurt or angry they felt, and how they came to the fortress.

An old man who was veteran from years passed fled to escape the war he had already fought, and how it still flashed in his memory in waking nightmare.

A bitter young widow joined the local militia to honor her fallen husband, taking her infant son to the camp to keep him safe and hidden.

A hunter from the surrounding woods helped ferry frightened villagers to the camp, and after they arrived, could not bear to abandon them.

A child no older than twelve had wandered there alone, confused and scared after losing his family; he had nowhere else to go.

Their stories and others stuck with Ursa when the warriors returned to their ship, only vaguely aware of how Hakoda once again helped her over the threshold as he had done the first time, revising her world just a little bit more.

She had known–logically–that there had to be casualties, hurt. But from so far away, lives felt more like numbers, and only the Fire Nation dead were spoken of in mourning. The refugees opened up a world that was uncomfortably real, and Ursa's once-protected life balked at it. There was temptation in rejecting most of what Hakoda told her, but there was too much here to set aside.

Ursa went straight to her cot to sleep and reflect the moment they pulled away from shore.

She had a lot to talk to the Chief about in the morning, but he mostly wanted her reactions. What she felt talking to them, how their words made her feel.

It wasn't a common thing to hear, not back home. Who had wanted to know what she thought?

But Ursa was still confused. The refugees had tugged at her soul, but her beliefs remained stubborn. Hakoda seemed to expect as much, the curve of a expectant smile on his face, the first he'd had in awhile, "I still have more things to show you if you want to see them." She agreed–when had this become her choice?–and the Water Tribe routes changed once more.

He showed her much more.

As weeks passed he brought her to another camp much like the first, an Earth Kingdom barracks in ruins with records of old troop movements and deadly battles, a Fire Nation colony viewed through telescopes and scouting reports, towns who clashed openly with the Fire Nation or avoided their wrath entirely, and wandering refugees making the long trek to Ba Sing Se. Each visit caused Ursa to slowly rebuild the foundation of her beliefs and what they consisted of, and her sympathy grew stronger. The tribesmen started to soften to her as she did them, offering their own stories, and even the cook thought to sneak her an extra helping during mealtimes.

And every time they made port, Hakoda took her hand and led her respectfully over to shore, so often it became habit rather than necessity. Ursa found it familiar, fond even, smiling quietly at the gesture and even when they met for their talks. She had admired his intelligence and skill from the first time she met him as an enemy and that was a constant in their interactions ever since, but she could not begin to pinpoint when a simple admiration became an attachment. Or even worse (better), something more.

She would learn later that he felt something similar. Less concretely defined, but respect for the woman beyond her blood in the steadiness of her words, grace amid rocking ships alien to her, and a mind that was willing and able to learn. And when Hakoda understood, the familiarity scared him, and that the understanding of just what he was feeling would remain unspoken just as it did before.

It culminated on a calm night at sea, a thick crescent moon casting shining reflections across the still waters, and Ursa watching it alone on the deck. She didn't often watch it before she was spirited away, but the Water Tribe loved the moon, and out of respect she appreciated it too.

Silver had its own beauty just as gold did, even elegance.

Ursa felt, rather than saw, when Hakoda stepped out to join her on deck. He gripped the railing loosely nearby and spoke, "How much of this did you expect when you left home, Ursa?"

"Very little to be honest. I could never hate my homeland but…I recognize parts of my old life as a gilded cage now, so much I wasn't told, that I didn't have context for. I have you to thank for 'imprisoning' me, I suppose," Mock offense, told with a small smile.

Hakoda clapped a hand over his heart as though wounded and laughed, "Well, between stuffy royal marriage and adventures with a southern pirate, who would choose the former?" That was the man she'd come to know, an intelligent leader but also humorous and kind. The man who outmaneuvered warships with relative ease, but pointed her at the civilians left behind and asked her to learn about them. Know who you are fighting.

Ursa moved her hand from the ship's rail and touched his, softly but noticeably. For all the times he had led her by the hand, she hadn't begun the action herself, only let it happen. But she couldn't be passive forever, after all. "In seriousness, I respect what you've done, the difference you've made…" When she looked over, Ursa found Hakoda's bright eyes fixed on her hand, laid on his. "The things you've shown me… I've learned a lot."

"I've learned a lot too," He said, gaze slowly rising, "There's so much people don't know about the world outside their borders, and rooted in their ways… When you think of it like that, maybe the Fire Nation aren't the only people who should strive for change."

"Hmm, progressive, aren't we?" Ursa murmured, thinking about strong, gentle hands, worn with familiar callouses. It gave her an idea, one she had fancied but never thought to act on until then.

There was one more trip Ursa hadn't seen, one she couldn't claim wholly unselfish reasons for.

"You know…" Her fingers curled tighter, tracing the grooves between his pronounced knuckles, admiring for the first real time the differences between them. And between what the Water Tribe was thought to be, and what he truly was. Hakoda could have been every bit the pirate he had the power to be–had every chance–but never was; brilliance wrapped in chivalry. "I haven't the opportunity to visit the Southern lands before. It could be a real learning experience," But that wasn't all of what she meant and from the way the man's eyes widened, he could see it as well.

"You'd really… my home is far from a noble's ideal vacation spot, it would be rough," The smile was back, but Ursa could detect a trace of nerves and hopefulness behind his eyes.

"Then I suppose you'll have to teach me, won't you, Hakoda?" And then Ursa grasped his hand firmly and tugged him down to her level, and finally, finally, captured his lips in a kiss. Silent and peaceful, it was a union to which the pale moon was their only watcher.

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Kya was escorted to the palace late in the afternoon a few hours following her sudden meeting with the Prince, trussed up in the new black dress and sandals that he had insisted she wear, a vague sense of unease pooling in her gut. Ozai had left ahead of her, carried in that same golden litter as the first time she saw him, an object of authority that she later learned was called a palanquin.

It seemed like a waste of precious gold and time to her, not that Kya would say that out loud.

Nevertheless, Ozai did not bring her with him, either out of the desire to keep his interest subtle–but why would he, after how obvious he had been up to this point–or because the royal family didn't consider her worth the privilege of the ride. Kya suspected the latter. She was only a temporary guest of men who thought themselves infallible. An expensive gift now and then, sure, but a symbol would not be hers to have. And so she was left to walk in the company of the ever silent guards, and the lingering gaze from passerby left her tense and uncomfortable.

At first she simply concentrated on the unusual feeling of the clothes to distract herself, the layers of silk shifting against her skin in a way that made her feel strangely exposed. Despite the multiple layers, the cloth felt thin and fragile after so many years in the south garbed in heavy furs. Despite knowing nothing about fashion in the Fire Nation and how little such an elegant gown would be useful in her home, Kya could see the expense in what she wore, another valuable gift Ozai felt the need to give her. Either he was pushing harder with gifts to try to please her, or had been getting impatient.

Or maybe both.

Not that the dress and its implications mattered much now. The towering black monstrosity that was the royal palace loomed above her, and flanked on either side by unsympathetic guards, there was no escaping how its shadowing presence grew closer with every step.

Even still, Kya couldn't bring herself to really regret her choice, even when the reality of what she'd chosen sank in. Nobody taken away by the black ships ever came back; rescue attempts were little more than a hopeless dream. Kya had to rely on herself if she wanted to see the southern shores again.

She curled her hands into loose fists under the cover of the voluminous sleeves and breathed out slowly as the doors creaked open before her, and her armored escort lead her firmly inside by the arm. Stepping into that yawning hall was like stepping onto the threshold of another world.

The air was cooler than she expected, and no deadly inferno greeted her in the hall. The heavy boots of the guards and Kya's footsteps produced a noticeable echo over the polished tile floors, and made the palace feel even emptier if possible. She didn't focus on it, her eyes seeking out the heavy supports and intricate carvings adorning the doorways, of snarling dragons and whirling phoenix with long, elegant tails. But try as she might, it was next to impossible for Kya to really distract herself that way, she never had much interest in architecture beyond how well it sheltered someone from the elements, something with little value here.

Kya climbed several flights of stairs, lifting the flowing fabric of her skirts up to her ankles to keep the dress from getting caught under her heels. Nerves were already making her stumble more than she should, best not to add to it.

Her escort did not stand on ceremony when they finally arrived at their destination, only opened the entrance and ushered her inside, the door closing behind her with tangible finality.

A spacious lounge greeted her, decked out with plush black sofas and tapestries emblazoned with the Fire Nation's emblem that spanned from the ceiling nearly down to the floor. The one window was curtained, and incense sticks were burning idly in a golden, oval bowl, scenting the air with the faint odor of cinnamon. Near the far wall, through the gap of an open doorway, she spied the red-draped edge of a grand bed. It was as effective a wake-up call as she could've imagined. Her choice was a lot more jarring in hindsight and Kya shifted uncomfortably, not realizing that her hands were clenched into fists until she noticed the pain of her nails digging into her palms.

Prince Ozai was waiting for her in a seat off to her left, pouring himself a small glass of clear liquor from a bottle and setting it aside. Several layers of the elaborate finery he was wearing before were gone and only the loose folds of the robes managed to hide the definition there. Even as she took him in, sharp eyes rose to meet her own, and just like the first time she'd ever seen him, the sight of harsh gold made her freeze in her tracks without meaning to. Ozai's sight drifted once to her hair and then to the tailored dress, the way the cloth flared out around her ankles and the way the red darkened smoothly into black at the base.

Then his lips curled up in a self-satisfied look, "I knew it would fit you well."

"So you did," Kya frowned, wondering how she ever mistook his motivations for anything other than this. And if Ozai ever knew how off she had been in the start.

It wasn't until the Prince raised a brow at her and gestured in a summons that she realized she still hadn't taken a step away from the entrance yet, some part of her still hesitant. "What's wrong? Are you starting to reconsider our deal already? I can easily have you escorted right back if that's what you really want…" Despite his words, the man was clearly banking on her acceptance, tension apparent in the stiff set of his shoulders and the too-tight grip around the glass he held. Kya supposed the idea of her potentially backing out at the last minute didn't sit well with him at all after all the plying and gifts, not that it really mattered.

In spite of everything, her mind was already made up.

Pride was all well and good for some people–enough reason to fight and waste away at that–but not for her.

Kya stepped away from the threshold, approaching the Prince and seating herself on the sofa little more than a foot away, pressing her hands into the plush surface to stabilize herself from slipping. So close she could pick out the noticeable shine in Ozai's black hair and the exact shade in those golden eyes.

Kya shouldn't be paying attention to this, to anything beyond what her "host" said and did, but she wasn't blind either. The Prince's options weren't exactly limited… and he went to her.

The bottle of liquor was starting to look uncomfortably tempting.

He leaned forward and entangled his fingers in her long hair, tamed from the immaculate teeth of a silver comb, and admired the thick, brown locks that spilled over his hand. The sight held held him steady for a moment or two, appraising eyes like a hunter over a fine pelt. Whatever he saw in them must have satisfied him, because Ozai smiled sharply leaned further into an embrace and drew her closer with a heavy hand across her shoulder until there was little else that she could see. And then he was close, so close to her that Kya could feel the faint aura of heat simmering off his skin–the fire running through his veins standing to attention along with with everything else–and she knew what came next.

Ozai did not pretend to be chaste when he kissed her. He surged into her like fire, with energy and ferocity, overwhelming enough for Kya to dig her fingers into the thick cushions in an attempt to hold steady in the face of such tumultuous emotion. When she lost her grip and sank into the thick furniture, he followed immediately, all presence of decorum thrown to the winds as hunger took hold.

When the Prince started to push apart her red dress, Kya couldn't help but wonder what would her family think if they knew what she was doing, if they would call her a traitor. Her late father–spirits rest his soul–patient and traditional, certainly would. And her mother's sad eyes, she could see them so clearly. And after so much, even Kanna probably thought her dead or worse. Far, far away in a strange land they couldn't ever see.

Kya couldn't stand those thoughts anymore, didn't want to think about any of this, at least for a while.

She pushed at Ozai's chest to let her up and slid around to snag the glass of liquor from the end table the moment she had a path, drinking it down in an instant and letting the buzz sink into her brain. The taste of cinnamon spice lingered on Kya's tongue and welcomed the loss of that frightening hyperawareness. He didn't try to hurt her, but Ozai was far from soft, and like an animal Kya tore into his shoulders with her nails in retaliation–for this, for her home, for everything he represented. It wasn't so bad when the alcohol numbed the mind and she couldn't focus on the consequences, and when the wall of fire descended on her again, Kya found she wasn't afraid at all.

.

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So Ozai got what he wanted and Kya stayed in a guest room where he could visit at leisure, and she was given expensive Fire Nation cuisine laid out on shiny tableware, a bed the size of an entire tent back home, and more finery than she knew what to do with. Even if Ozai had told her beforehand what he was offering, it still seemed like too much in the flesh (but in some ways, not enough for the price she had to pay for it).

Kya had asked her host if the Fire Lord had allowed her this room or if he minded, and for the first time the Prince showed open anger at the question, though not really at her in specific. Ozai had slammed his hand into a wall and shouted, "I don't need my father's permission to have a guest!" Kya backed away from him until he calmed down and marked that down as a subject she shouldn't broach.

Then Ozai had admitted to not asking permission, but she didn't bring the topic up again.

But the room was far too much for a Water Tribe woman accustomed to living on very little, and more than that, to work for what she had. Not one moment in the south was wasted; there were constant repairs to be done on homes and boats, fishing and food-gathering to be done, cooking, and caring after the young in the tribe–a community-wide effort with how much the South had deteriorated. Even without the men's duties of hunting, fighting, and the building of their wall, she did not live a lax lifestyle by any means.

Kya could not be like the nobility, wasting their entire lives away in decadent stagnation, without a single care for the world beyond their gilded box. She didn't think much on it before, working for the tribe was a way of life, as natural as breathing.

Kya had lost her footing and she had to work, to be useful somehow.

Those weren't the words she used to convince Ozai, but it was still surprisingly easy to persuade him to give Kya something to do beyond sitting around in her room waiting for his next visit. 'If this isn't supposed to be a cell, then prove it.'

It wasn't respect, not really. But something about the force of her emotion pleased him and consented. If it was just to keep her placated, Kya didn't really care, as it was, she had nothing but time.

It wasn't as though she wasn't doing something similar to Ozai as well.

The next day the maids left writing utensils in her room and plants on the barred window sill with instructions for care. The guard at her door informed her that he'd been cleared to escort her to and from the library and garden at certain times of the day, if she wished. And that was…better.

Kya built a rough journal by dipping a sheaf of paper in paste and stitching a binding on either side, a tool she used to chronicle her stay in the Fire Nation, keep track of the days that had passed, and to store the stolen Fire Nation map she'd found in the library. Nothing she did was really a secret from Ozai except for this–it was just for her and no one else–and Kya buried the journal in her mattress and cleaned up herself to make sure the maids never found it.

Privacy wasn't really a worry in the South, the community trusted each other, but here Kya knew–for her sake–she had to retain some of it. Even if only a piece.

The rest of her time there was not so clandestine.

True to his word, her guard brought her back and forth between the library and garden when asked, but usually when only he was present, or with the addition of the Prince. It wasn't hard to understand why; Ozai lacked subtlety, but he did make an effort to prevent her from interacting with people outside of him and the attendants (and likely, to keep his father out of the loop). Kya learned what she could of the Fire Nation in the archives, but only to understand, not fit in.

There were some things she did see the use of in the history books, but the assuredness of the authors' words, the propaganda, was scary to read like this. Doubtless, like a cold, hard fact instead of opinion. This wasn't only a mindset engineered to control the people's motivations; they actually believed it.

It took some time for her curiosity to recover after that realization.

Soon enough though, she found life in the palace to be settling into a pattern of sorts, balanced between her room, the escorted outings (including the necessary and welcome visits to the bathhouse to be refreshed), and Ozai. Which was not what Kya wanted, better to stay alert. She certainly didn't want to get used to being there when the whole point was to go home when her host was done amusing himself with her.

But then, there were the pattern-breakers. When Ozai called her to the lounge and just…talked to her. Or maybe just to talk at her, because oftentimes she didn't even get the chance to get a sentence in edgewise to him. Kya wouldn't be surprised to learn that he enjoyed hearing the sound of his own voice, but being used as a sounding board was a bit much.

Still, if offloading his opinions prevented him from exploding in Kya's face later, she was willing to tolerate it without complaint.

The Prince always seemed to have some grievance, something to be upset about. Whether it was about his father (though Ozai visited this topic in less detail), his older brother, or the war (or more accurately, his lack of involvement in it). Kya tried to interject occasionally, such as asking him if there were any family members he did get along with; there was not, and Kya couldn't conceive of hating everyone in her community like he seemed to with his. But then, she hadn't expected this either, sitting in a palace listening to the questionable woes of royalty while his fingers dove into her hair and caressed at bared shoulders freed from their expensive threads…

Ozai verbally attacked Crown Prince Iroh more than anything else. According to him his brother was (among other things) the Fire Lord's 'golden boy' who could do no wrong, lied as easily as breathing, never shut up about his "leaf water," and was a "filthy womanizer." Kya lifted her brow at that last one, because she didn't really think Ozai had the right to make that kind of comparison when she was sitting right there, but apparently the maids confirmed the older Prince's propensity for flirting, which made her think. Her host was obviously seething in jealousy and was using her as an (unwilling) ear to listen and wasn't exactly trustworthy, but he wasn't much of a liar either. How much truth distorted by anger was he loosing in those rants?

Nevertheless, Kya agreed to stay away from the Crown Prince when Ozai demanded it just in case. If Iroh was just as bad or worse than his brother, then she had no interest in dealing with both of them, and it wasn't a risk she was willing to take. And a general at that; as unpleasant as Ozai could be, at least he hadn't burned any cities in 'service to his country.'

And well, anyone who had the favor of Fire Lord Azulon, the monster who reduced her homeland to a ruin of what it once was, wasn't someone she wanted to meet.

These "talks," if they could be called that, helped to sate her host, and it kept some of the pent-up frustration out of his physical interest in her. Ozai got a tad looser, even if most of his demands remained the same, and decided to bring her to his training hall out of the blue so that she could watch him firebend.

Kya had never seen firebending when it wasn't aimed with the intent to kill or maim, and the sight made her uncomfortable enough to sit on the far side of the room to avoid the slightest chance of blowback.

But the heat was still incredible even then, and Ozai's fire was explosive and loud, so intense that soldiers who invaded her home may as well have been flinging embers in comparison. That was just one more difference between base level soldiers and the royal family, and Kya couldn't help but shake just from being so close to it.

And yet, she got the feeling like he was trying to impress her, not intimidate her. Would that Kya had any appreciation for the flame beyond what she pretended to show.

But still, all the distractions and talks in the world couldn't throw Kya off when the month long mark came and went, and she remained in the palace with no sign of the Prince's bride. Her guard and the maids were tight-lipped and nervous, more so than usual. Something had happened, something that they weren't allowed to tell her. And when Ozai finally came to her later that night, he was noticeably more frustrated and impatient than usual, but Kya had lost the ability to be eternally patient with him.

"Where is your bride?" Kya barely waited until Ozai entered and closed the door behind him before speaking, sitting calmly on the far side, arms tightly folded.

He didn't immediately reply, looking her up and down, taking in the heavy layers she'd pulled from the wardrobe and closed off expression. Kya wasn't sure how better to make a statement from what she'd been given, but it seemed to be having an effect at least, even with the addition of his stiff attitude. "Kya…" Ozai paused, removing the ornament holding his topknot in place and setting it aside, "It seems that my fiancee won't be joining us at the palace after all." When Kya's expression didn't change beyond the furrowing of her brow, he continued, "Apparently the ship carrying her was attacked by pirates and sunk into the sea. So you can see how that would complicate matters."

She considered this for a moment, but even if the loss of the bride was tragic and unexpected for him, it shouldn't change her goal. "That doesn't mean you can keep me here."

"What is this ungratefulness? I give you the gift of clothes, good food, and a warm bed, and you throw it back in my face?" Ozai snapped, stomping closer.

The heat in the room was rising, stuffy and overpowering; Kya held steady. "You gave me a month for her to return and she did not. You made me a promise, Prince Ozai," At those words, the man in question straightened up, staring at her in a new light, "If you were just going to break your deal to me, then you might as well put me back in my cell." Part of her screamed at the idea of returning there, of all the time and energy she'd spent in his company, wasted in the end. But the Prince wasn't about to just give up and let go.

"I made no such promise," Ozai growled, sharp with imposed finality. As Kya surged out of her seat to protest, he cut her off, "The deal was for you to go free when my fiancee arrived, I never set a time limit." Kya's eyes widened, trying to think back and finding that, yes he was telling the truth. How could she have overlooked such an obvious trap, even one unplanned? She winced at the realization, even as Ozai stepped up to her side, uncomfortable heat starting to die away little by little. "I have a much better idea than that cell…" he brushed away a stray hair from her face and lowered his voice, "stay with me."

"As what? Your dirty little secret or your replacement wife?" Kya said, feeling more tired and defeated than she ever was in the raider's ship. It was one thing to tolerate Ozai for hope of release later, but now she was realizing that home was no longer a possibility.

The smile was back, discomforting, but preferable to his previous temper, "Whichever you prefer." It was choice between retaining the delicate secrecy she'd had so far with little more than a breath of freedom, and letting their uneven relationship solidify into something public. Both frightening futures to envision in different ways.

Why pretend she had a choice, when her people never even… Oh.

"I want to make another deal," Kya met his gaze evenly, a curiously raised brow. "If I agree to stay…in whatever capacity, I want you to end the attacks on the Southern Water Tribe."

A beat of silence then, "I'm not the Southern Raiders."

"Yes that's right, you're the Prince of the Fire Nation, far more powerful than them," She reasoned frankly, and though they served a very important purpose, every word out of her mouth was true. "There are no more waterbenders in the south pole, there weren't when I was taken away, and attacking them now accomplishes nothing. The Southern Raiders are hurting my people for no good reason. I know you may not care, but I do, my home is everything to me. Those are my conditions for my cooperation and I also know that's what you want." Kya brushed off her dress and waited, immovable as a glacier.

Ozai ruminated on her conditions for a moment or two before his harsh demeanor faded, "Well, I don't think that will be too much trouble." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles in a parody of chivalry.

"I look forward to seeing you recite the vows, Lady Kya."

Kya had not the will to reply, sinking back into the fire, at the mercy of another sacrifice.

With any luck, this one would create something good in the end.

Earlier:

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Fire Lord Azulon was far too cold for a firebender, his eyes as empty as his voice and twice as emotionless. A brave young maid had whispered in the halls that Azulon hunted the waterbenders because he was jealous of the frozen ice running through their veins, and the Prince let it pass in amused silence. Ozai had tried to appeal to him once in the past, before it became apparent that his father only bore an interest in his eldest son and no more.

He'd been called to the throne room unexpectedly that morning, well before the first audiences of the day began, and had no patience for either the attendants nor his father's insistence on paltry procedure.

But Azulon did not call him to berate for the mistake of the day, or his shameful voyage which he loved to bring up so often, but the woman he'd stowed away in the guest room.

"You know better than to think you can deceive me in my own palace, Prince Ozai." Said Prince spoke nothing in reply. Arguing with the Fire Lord was not unlike arguing with an inferno stripped of one's flame. It had no compassion, no interest, it simply destroyed the trespasser and moved onward. "The Avatar's granddaughter is lost, and your answer is some Water Tribe peasant pulled out of a cell. I expected a mistake, and yet to have you defy our plans this way…

Ozai remained silent, but he ground his teeth in thinly repressed anger.

Who he wanted was his business alone.

And Kya was primal, untamed beauty with rich brown hair and cool blue eyes, willful, patient and honest, and unafraid.

That she was a taboo only made him want her more.

Azulon glared at him, thin-lipped and displeased, but not surprised. "But, after everything I've seen, what more could you possibly do to disappoint me further? I will correct your selfish outbursts no more. Away with you. Take your common-blooded prize, and never again ask me for another favor, or invite punishment upon yourself you will not soon forget!"

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A/N: finally got off my butt and finished this, next chapter: kids!