Disclaimer . . . of Doom!:Shocking as it may be, Avatar does not belong to me. I actually thought it looked terrible at first and was put off by the opening narration. Things change obviously, but are unlikely to change so much I would end up owning Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Seeker
Perfect, that was how he would describe her. Not the most original form of flattery, but then Prince Zuko had never been regarded as the smart one. Not that he was a fool, though where she was concerned…
Azula stood across the room dressing herself in front of the mirror to make sure all was in order. She was not at all far along yet, making for a pleasant viewing. He rather liked her hair down; it gave her a "softer" appearance. Naturally that meant Azula preferred it done up.
He rolled from the bed to his feet, not bothering to stoop and retrieve any of his garments. She was in the process of wrapping her chest when he laid his arm over it, leaning down into her back. Rather than turning her head she shot him an annoyed look using the mirror. He answered the look likewise with an amused smile; he could read her well enough to tell how annoyed she was.
"Zuko, I'm getting dressed," Azula sighed.
"You're always in such a hurry. If you're not up to it, we could just lie down for a while," he commented. Her rough exhale preceded her shoving his arm off of her. Deciding not to push the matter he took a step back as she finished covering her private places.
"Do you really think another hour or so would be noticed?" Zuko chuckled. Azula rolled her eyes.
"Father would not care to investigate if he heard you had taken up cliff diving. I, however, am something he is quite willing to exert effort in keeping track of. I need to be back when I said I would," Azula commented.
"You could always say you ran into a complication, you are very good at lying Zula," Zuko persisted. She tossed part of her top onto his head.
"Stop playing the fool and help me with my hair," Azula laughed as he ripped the garment from his head. Azula was very reluctant to admit any faults in herself, but the art of working her own hair had never reached the point were she did not require assistance. Or perhaps it was merely an excuse for his fingers to run through her black mane?
"Zuzu?" Azula spoke up as he secured the last strand of her hair in its proper place.
"I'm not joking; we have been coming here too often. I think we should wait a good while before coming back. Leave with one of us staying behind in case…" Azula began to explain. She stopped speaking as her brother's arms wrapped around her.
"You're always thinking like Father, the world isn't some battlefield where you need to constantly plan," Zuko whispered into her ear.
"Still being the fool," Azula whispered, leaning back into him. Though for a moment he thought he heard sadness in her tone rather than her usual sarcasm.
The brine tainted sea wind tore away the warmth of recollection as the Prince surveyed the horizon. From the command tower of his ship he could see the Dividing Sea stretch out before him. Their heading was east, the continent and the colonies that dominated the Western Coast of the Earth Kingdom.
They would not bother making port at Azulon; the city may as well be part of the Home Islands, and his quarry was surely further afield. His plan, such as it was, called for heading north searching for any trace or rumor of the Avatar.
"Your father, your grandfather, and even your great-grandfather all sought the Avatar in their turn," he recalled his uncle's words as they left the Western Air Temple. The Crown Prince was no fool, he doubted Azula would have tolerated him if he was; the odds against his success were enormous. No, they were perhaps even greater than the walls that had defeated his uncle. But that was irrelevant.
Only one road lead him home, back to Azula, and that was capturing the Avatar. That was the difference between him and his predecessors – they had a choice in their quest, for him he would sooner die than give up.
Thus determined he scanned the horizon as if to spot the first marker on the long road home.
The book was interesting. It contained the works of a man regarded as the Fire Nation's greatest poet during the Sage Era. That had been long before the war, apparently a time when the Fire Nation was not obsessed with grinding their fellow nations into dust. It was hard to imagine a peaceful Fire Nation, and even harder to imagine these people writing poetry or liking it.
While she could appreciate the poetry… well not all of it to be honest. The poet's romantic waxing on fire went against her own upbringing regarding water as the romantic center of life. But still it was preferable to the collection of war texts and Fire Nation history she had heard the Prince kept.
The problem was that she had read everything in the text at least ten times. Frankly she was bored and had no idea what to do with herself.
In frustration she fell back onto her bed. Except for the Air Temple she had not left the ship since they left the Fire Nation capital, and the General said she was overdue for cabin fever.
Leaning up on her arms she scanned her quarters as if some distraction would reveal itself. The room was large enough she supposed. The wall hanging was blue with a yellow floral design, a gift from the General, as the closest thing he could get to the colors of Katara's nation. Aside for the bits of blue and her bed she had a wardrobe and a desk.
The desk was fully stocked and held the journal she had decided to keep. But aside from the Temple her life really had nothing to report.
It was nearly dinnertime and she had done nothing meaningful with the day. She never thought she would be nostalgic for a palace slave's life.
Yet she was. Though she hated that her labors went towards the Fire Nation ruling classes' comfort they at least filled up the time. And most importantly there had been others, slaves from the Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdom. Some like her had been taken by soldiers and sold, while a few had been born to chains from the slaves taken in Fire Lord Azulon's time. It was not so much misery loving company; more like having people you could relate to and count on to an extent. Okay, maybe it was misery loving company but she was trying not to depress herself.
On this ship she was alone. The only slave, the only foreigner – the only woman by the moon!
A firm but not overly intrusive tapping sounded on her door. Knowing what it was she rolled off her bed and made her way to the metal door. Unlocking it with the lifting of a pin, she opened it enough to properly hear but not see.
"Miss? Will you be taking your dinner in your quarters?" the crewman asked. Her customary answer was almost past her lips when Katara stopped herself. Though no one could see her, she drew herself up, steeling herself as if for a challenge.
"Actually I think I will be eating in the galley today," Katara answered pushing the door open. She may be a slave, but she was not going to live like a prisoner.
She walked out into the corridor past the stunned sailor… only to stop as she reached the end of the corridor. She turned to face him scratching the back of her head and wearing a nervous almost-grin.
"Where is the galley?" Katara asked a bit embarrassed.
As it turned out the galley was a long room, not nearly as wide as she had expected. In addition to the door she entered through there was another halfway down the hall to her left and a double door opposite her that presumably lead to the kitchen. An assumption made all the more concrete by the broad man in an apron standing in front of it, presiding over a pot ladle in hand.
A short line of sailors and soldiers stood near the cook. Before reaching him they grabbed a plate and bowl from a stand, before a smaller man also in an apron tended to them. A piece of bread and a dried fruit were unceremoniously dropped on their plates. As the cook poured some stew into a Firebender's bowl she caught a whiff of it. Like everything the Fire Nation ate it smelled of spices and meat. Though she thought maybe vegetables this time?
As she made her way across the room she passed the tables and benches bolted to the floor. It was not as crowded as she had thought. Well, since it was a ship she supposed a good number had to stay at their posts and would either come later or eat at their positions. Still, she could feel she was the object of their attentions, eyes following her across the room.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Katara thought. Her throbbing nerves aside she was not about to give them the satisfaction of seeing her run away. She swiftly picked up a plate and bowl, practically swinging the plate in front of the cook's assistant. The young man with the meager makings of a mustache blinked at the motion, staring at the plate now being held in front of him. Katara cleared her throat, which prompted him to blink and drop the provisions on her plate.
"Not exactly the Fire Lord's finest, no wonder he's here," Katara thought, allowing herself a smile.
Turning to the cook she found him far more imposing. Not just his greater size and girth; he was looking her over with a squinted eye as if checking for problems. Katara could think of nothing else to do but stand there and hope he still gave out some stew.
Apparently she met whatever criteria he was looking for, though his long sagging face remained in a scowl. She knew there was some level of approval because he snatched the bowl out for hand and ladled stew into it. With a grunt, he returned the bowl and she beat a hasty retreat.
Which lead to another dilemma she had not considered – where to sit? While the room was not crowded at least one person was at each of the tables. Even though they had mostly gone back to their own business, she did not feel like sharing a meal with any of them.
"Katara! How nice to see you here," a jovial voice called out. Recognizing the voice she turned back towards the line. General Iroh had gotten onto the line a short space behind her and was in the process of getting his own stew. Emphasis on was. When the cook snatched his bowl, he did not return it, placing it in a small pile next to the pot.
"Oh? No stew for me today I guess," Iroh laughed. The cook just glared at him, as he walked over to Katara.
"He doesn't like you?" Katara asked gesturing to the ill-tempered cook.
"He sort of hates everyone, but his cooking is worth it. He just thinks people should be worthy of his creations."
"You're a General," Katara pointed out.
"Yes, but I spoke before he served me. I know, but genius rarely makes sense, which is why he is here. He must like you to fill your bowl on the first time," Iroh commented. As he talked he went over to a table with one other occupant, Katara in tow.
"Will the Prince be joining you?" Katara asked taking the seat opposite the General.
"His highness does not join the crew for meals. General Iroh alternates between us and the Crown Prince," their companion spoke up.
"Katara, I would like you to meet Lt. Jee, our stalwart marine officer," Iroh announced.
As the three conversed Katara did not realize she was the topic of conversation at another table in the galley. The four soldiers found this development quite interesting indeed.
"So, that's what the prince likes. A little under ripe, but he has good taste. Guess it's true, it's good to be royal," the man with the sideburns commented.
"Not worth exile though," a Firebender with a crescent scar on his chin answered.
"Exile? Isn't looking for the Avatar a family tradition?" Sideburns queried.
"In a way, but Prince Zuko made a vow before the court to return with the Avatar. That amounts to banishment unless he either finds the Avatar to return with or the Fire Lord releases him from the vow," a soldier with a beard modeled after the fire Lord's answered.
"And the Avatar's been missing for over a century," Scar reminded them.
"I thought the Prince was keeping his girl under lock. Did you see those eyes? Ah the best brothels are stocked with blue eyes," Sideburns commented.
"Eck," Beard responded, letting his spoon drop back into his stew. Sideburns cast him a questioning look.
"You not into girls Jiro?" Sideburns asked with a snicker. The merriment faded as he was answered with a murderous look.
"Of course I desire women you son of a fisherman. But I no more consider one of her kind a woman than I would a sow," he answered darkly. Scar edged away from Jiro, he was the sort to hold onto a bad mood.
"I for one agree with his majesty's actions in sending the Prince to chase phantoms. One who would lower himself to bedding a lesser race will never be fit to rule our great nation," Jiro growled.
"Hush it; don't let the General hear you talk about his nephew like that! And you, best mind your weapon, the Prince does not seem the type to share," Scar declared quietly, his gaze sweeping over his two companions. Sideburns merely shrugged and returned to his soup.
As he finished Jiro took his leave, followed shortly by Scar. Still feeling like talking Sideburns turned to the last diner at the table.
"What do you think of her Lee?" he asked grinning. The tall man had a wide mouth accented by the thin mustache on his upper lip. The corners of that mouth perked up as his gaze shifted over to and past Katara as she talked with the lieutenant and the General. Rather than respond he lifted his bowl to his lips and drank the last of his stew, savoring the flavor.
General Iroh had long since concluded that life, like water, seeks its own level. It was unconventional wisdom coming from a Firebender. The four nations almost as a rule directed their worldviews around their elements. Water adapted its form to its environment and flowed to reach its own level. Earth was solid and remained stationary until acted upon by an outside force. His willingness to think as his enemies thought was the simple explanation for his success in war. And now, unlike his original intention, that knowledge granted him insight into the world in general. He idly wondered if enlightenment was something you could find by accident.
Anyway, returning to his original trail of thought, even under unusual circumstances people tend to fall into a routine. Perhaps especially under such circumstances, lacking the normalcy they are accustomed to they make a new one to fit their situation.
The crew was coping well with the voyage. Some, like the Lieutenant, were a bit restless, those who would sooner be in action against the enemy and hopefully moving up the ladder. Others were pleased with a relatively prestigious job associating with a royal, in which their lives did not seem actively at risk. And the remainder were mostly just bearing with the assignment until their term of conscription was up.
The Fire Lord's elite they were not, but Iroh was pleased to have them. He had been quick to get to know the men; he had learned in his campaigns that victory began with the individual soldier and the less distance between the commanders and those men the better. Quite the radical view even now, he acknowledged with wry pride.
Yes, all in all the men were coping well with being on a fool's errand.
His nephew, on the other hand, was worrying. The lad was like a tiger in a cage, restless and tangibly discontent, and frankly it was catching even to the General. Except for him, Zuko was withdrawn from the entire ship. On the deck he practiced his katas and bending, politely refusing Iroh's instruction on the excuse of finding his own way based on scrolls.
His nephew did not want his help, but he was certain it was not anger that drove this stubbornness. The silver lining to this affair was that the unraveling of Zuko's life had stripped his nephew of the arrogance that had overridden good judgment and counsel. But it seemed to have gone too far and now Zuko was denying himself aid and comfort in penance. It wasn't that he didn't think he needed help, but that he needed to overcome it himself to make up for his failure.
A foolish view to take, but Iroh had been down that road himself and knew the only way Zuko would leave it was by his own realization.
The Prince's sword training was something else all together. Iroh had known his nephew had been pursuing the discipline of the sword, and the twin blade school at that, but had not pushed deeper. In short, Zuko showed signs of genius in the art – not to the same natural talent as Azula with Firebending – but enough that with this drive to excel Iroh was certain he would master the swords at an unnaturally young age.
Upon complimenting his nephew for the first time on his skills, Iroh had learned that the passion for blades sprang from the knife he sent to Zuko from Ba Sing Se. He was not ashamed to admit he was proud to have lit such a fire in his nephew, and that at least something worthwhile came from that damnable siege. Though the general was less enthused to learn that Zuko had given that same knife to his sister when he advised her to also pursue a weapons discipline.
Still, if Zuko learned to combine his swordsmanship with his bending, he would become a truly formidable warrior. During the Dark Ages Iroh recalled weapon/bending fighting had been common. Etiquette of all things had killed the tradition, benders being expected to rely solely on the blessing of Agni rather than weapons like a lowly non-Bender. How many would have lived in this war if they had been encouraged to fight to their best abilities rather than adhering to a senseless tradition, Iroh wondered?
And when his nephew retired to his rooms he poured over the scroll they had brought from the archives, accounts of the previous hunts for the Avatar, and copies of the little knowledge of the Air Nomads. The second was meant to let him know his enemy, but frustrated him with being mostly pieces on the old Spiritist beliefs and to his young eyes useless in understanding the last Airbender.
"What am I going to do with him?" Iroh asked whatever spirits might be listening. He needed to get through to Zuko somehow or else he feared the Prince might burn himself out chasing nothing.
Once she had told her brother that he had to be the worst singer in the world; now she owed him an apology if and when they met again.
General Iroh called it music night, one of his many attempts to break up the monotony of life on the small ship. This was the third such event, and she was wondering why he hadn't given up after the first. She supposed the musicians he had rousted up were decent enough, but the singing from the crewmen was terrible.
"I've heard worse," someone stated, seemingly plucking the thought from her mind. She turned and found Lt. Jee had joined her in the shadows outside the fire that illuminated the makeshift stage. She was a bit surprised he addressed her – the third in command of the ship was well mannered and one of the few men on the ship she would trust to be a gentleman; but there was no love lost on her from what she could tell.
"The first two times the General pulled this he insisted on every audience member contributing to the performance. Now it's just the ones with little talent or just too much enthusiasm," the Fire Nation officer remarked. Perhaps he was just venting to someone whose opinion he didn't value? Regardless, General Iroh noted his departure and in doing so noticed Katara lurking about the periphery.
"Katara! I am so pleased our ship's fair flower has accepted my invitation," Iroh called out. Lt. Jee made his escape while Katara was almost literally swept into the small assemblage by the General. It was easy to forget how fast the old man could be.
"General," Katara began as she was gently pulled towards the stage.
"All the men except my nephew have done it; consider it an initiation of sorts. As for shyness, the bar could hardly be set lower to be honest. So show them what you can do," Iroh assured her. At some point he had gotten behind her and with a light push she found herself on the stage, suddenly very hot under the light of the torches illuminating it from the respective corners. Looking out over the dozen or so men still in attendance she felt her throat dry up and her knees begin to tremble. What now?
"What kind?" someone asked. Katara practically jumped at the sound and turned to realize one of the musicians spoke, the one with a string instrument. Indicating his instrument in response to his puzzled look Katara understood the question.
"Uh, any Water Tribe?" she asked with a nervous smile, not excepting any answer.
"I've got one, I learned it off my grandfather's personal slave," the flutist spoke up.
"It was meant for a bone flute he told me, but I learned it on this," he elaborated, indicating his instrument.
"Uh, play on I guess?" Katara hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
The other two musicians set their instruments on their laps as their comrade gathered himself. Katara was surprised when she recognized the melody; the Fire Nation soldier in a cruel joke of fate almost perfectly imitated her mother's favorite song to play on the bone flute. She didn't know if he was as good as he sounded or if she was hearing her mother play through him, but either way the memories it conjured made her eyes moisten.
'No, I will not cry! Not in front of them,' she thought, pouring all her scorn into that last word. She looked out into the shadowed deck, Fire Nation soldiers and sailors, from the same cut as the men who killed her mother. The same cut as the men who had driven her father to leave in order to protect the Tribe by fighting them. Like the men who had stolen her from her people and her brother. They would not laugh at or pity her.
The music was meant to be likened to water, the flow, the freeze, and the thaw its theme and cycle. Katara moved with it, thinking of water, the times she bent, the vague memories she had of the Waterbenders of her people and the stories of their power.
She flowed, every gesture and movement graceful and fluid. Her blue attire and the dancing light of the fires made it all the more surreal to the audience. There was no whispering, or idle chatter, and not even a hint of mockery as other performers had received. It was as if the girl was born to move so, like a fish that had been held aloft retuned to the stream. Triumphant in spite of adversity, the water stilled in ice thawing by pieces only to flow freely once more.
The music stopped and Katara stopped with it, sweating from her brow and confused with what came over her. She noted the silence hanging over the area and feeling uncomfortable again gave a slight bow before beating a hasty retreat past the musicians.
"I did not know she could do that," Iroh admitted. The whispers started after that, most stunned in awe, though one man stormed off muttering about blue-eyed sirens. Lee on the other hand watched her go, drinking in every movement as she vanished into the darkness. When he smiled his teeth gleamed in the faint light as he lifted the sake saucer to his lips.
"You know people will start asking question at this rate," Iroh pointed out. He and his nephew stood on the observation deck, Zuko's haunt of choice when he was not otherwise occupied. Iroh imagined he was both looking for the Avatar and seeing a phantom shore of the Fire Nation.
"Questions?" the Prince responded shortly but not wholly rudely.
"About you and Katara," Iroh affirmed.
"What about her?" Zuko asked looking back to the horizon.
"Well for lovers you two don't spend any time together. Before you were both reclusive, but now she is being seen. That girl is the main event of music night – you really should stop by sometime – and she has taken to haunting the decks watching the sea," Iroh told him, thinking that the last part reminded him of the Prince's own activity.
"I even caught her helping the cook in the kitchen. He doesn't even let me into the kitchen anymore, but he lets her actually touch stuff," Iroh declared, trying to convey how big a deal the trifling fact was. And apparently failing as his nephew did not even turn to face him.
"Well at least the slave girl is pulling her weight," Zuko answered.
"Her name is Katara, and if you want people to believe there is anything between you two, you had best start acting like it," Iroh pressed more firmly. Zuko actually turned away from the sea to meet his uncle's gaze with his own look.
"You know I have no interest in her," Zuko told him plainly.
"That is not necessary. But you need to make the men think you are at least somewhat interested or they might question the real reason as to your exile in all but name," Iroh stated. His nephew's eyes widened at the implication, and he turned away, but not back to the sea. Iroh knew he was stretching things a bit – even if the men guessed the affair was a sham, there was no way in Agni's flames they would guess the real reason. But even the hint of a threat to his sister was a major motivator for his nephew, and would hopefully carry him out of this obsessive isolation.
"Bring her to my room tonight after dinner. Tell her I want no insolence or…" the Prince stumbled over the last part. Iroh raised his eyebrows as his nephew walked off. No flirting? If only. Katara hated the Fire Nation even though she tried not to show it. He had hoped to blunt that hatred with friendship but she just took him as some sort of abnormality. He acknowledged that the girl had ample reason to dislike them, but hate – especially at such a young age – could warp a person.
"Well as long as they don't try and kill each other I can call it progress," Iroh cheerfully told himself. Maybe if Zuko got to know women outside the social isolation of royalty, he would realize there were more fish in the sea. More fish and better fish than one he should absolutely not want to catch!
Katara stood outside the Prince's chamber having a staring contest with his door. The general had told her of the need for this visit. Defending the belief she was some slut for the Prince was not high on her priority list, but for her sole friend at the moment's sake she would play along.
He had assured her that the Prince would be a gentleman, that he unfortunately had eyes for only one woman. That was how the old soldier had put it; he said it with a hint of disgust and she shuddered a bit at the thought herself. She had heard royals had a tendency for inbreeding, but really! But no one asked her to pass judgment on the affair and no one likely cared what she thought, so she knocked and got on with it.
The door swung inward after a few moments delay, and with only a brief hesitation she stepped over the threshold. She was a bit surprised to find that by size her own chamber was up to par with this one, though as they sat on the same corridor she supposed that made sense. Despite likely identical dimensions, the room's decorum and inhabitant gave it a completely different feel. The Fire Nation banner was only the most obvious of the nationalistic trappings and the lingering smell of incense from what looked like a meditation pad explained both the odor hanging on the air and that component of the Prince's scent.
Speaking of the Prince, he seemed to be ignoring her to settle down on the meditation pad, selecting a stick of incense. While the first fear of any slave under these circumstances was molestation, the idea he would simply ignore her the entire time was quite irritating.
"You may have the power here but I am not gong to give you your way easily," she declared to herself.
"So did your uncle help you decorate, or is this your handiwork?" she asked with mock interest. It was rhetorical in truth; while she had not seen the elder royals chamber she was certain it was not Spartan/blatantly nationalist. The Prince opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to regard her with the hints of a frown.
"I did this myself," he answered plainly. His attempt to return to the task at hand was thwarted as she voiced another question.
"So what have you been reading, memoirs?" Katara asked picking up one of the scrolls resting on the desk's rack.
"Those are accounts about the Avatar and the Airbenders," he answered, displeasure now clearly showing on his face. Zuko eyed the scroll in her hand as if she was going to break it.
"You invited me, so don't get short!" Katara retorted brandishing the scroll. His look of irritation was replaced with wide-eyed surprise at this turn of events.
"I know why I'm here, your Uncle was gentleman enough to explain that. Did you expect me to just sit here quietly for a few hours while you meditated and ignored me?" she demanded returning the srcoll to its place. Zuko blinked and she correctly guessed that he had indeed had something like that in mind.
"Your sister really is the smart one, isn't she?" Katara sighed. Her anger was giving way to exasperation, as it seemed he was more thoughtless than purposefully rude.
"She is, but do not take me for a fool, slave. You don't want to be here and I would rather not have you. Agni and my uncle are the reasons we're here so I thought it best to just let this pass with as little trouble as possible," Zuko responded. It was not really an apology, more an explanation.
"Well we are stuck together, and this won't be the last time we are expected to share a room if your uncle has anything to say about it," Katara pointed out.
"Your point?" Zuko queried absently.
"We don't like each other, but let's at least try and put up with it? For starters in case you've forgotten I have a name, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe," she pressed.
"I know who you are and you know who I am," Zuko waved the statement off.
"Do you? Aside from your rank and name all I know about you is the real reason your father all but kicked you out of the Fire Nation," Katara pointed out irritably. Zuko surged to his feet fixing a narrowed gaze on the girl, who reflexively held up her hands in response.
"Hey! Your secret is safe with me, your uncle made me promise as part of getting me out of the palace. Besides, if I did say anything I doubt anyone would believe a Water Tribe slave over the royal family," she answered, the last part with a bitter tone.
It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth. She could and would have broken a promise to hurt the Fire Nation in some way, any way. No, the real reason she would keep the secret was the siblings themselves. Obscene as it was, the two were in love, not just the fleeting lust fueled thing she had seen among slaves and palace dwellers alike, but something deeper that could be felt in how they had interacted the first time she met them. To expose them would be death for Zuko and his sister cast aside as an unclean woman. She was not entirely sure what the second entailed but it would be terrible she was sure.
"I actually like meat better than fish," Katara declared. Zuko was surprised but not showing it at the non sequitur.
"What?" he inquired.
"There's something about me, now give me something about you."
"…I can play Pai Sho, but I have never won a game against Azula or Uncle," he ventured uncertainly. Truthfully Azula had only played him once after he discovered she had learned the game. She had destroyed him and told him not to try again until he could offer some kind of challenge. He had yet to get that rematch. But that was a memory he had no intention of sharing with this girl.
"That's… interesting," Katara stated. Silence reigned for a few moments.
"We're not good at this," Katara decided slumping back in the chair.
"Can I get back to meditating?" Zuko asked.
"No, we are not regressing," Katara declared sitting upright again. The Prince raised an eyebrow at the "we", but simply sat back down on the mediation pad, but not assuming the position. Katara seemed deep in thought trying to find some way to turn this situation off the current course. Her eyes seemed to light up as inspiration hit her.
"Pai Sho, you play Pai Sho, your uncle taught it to me," she announced. When he merely raised an eyebrow at this one of hers started to twitch.
"Get your set and we'll do that for a while," she explained. Honestly, small wonder he got caught.
He retrieved a board from one of his trunks and set it up with practiced ease. He did volunteer the information that this was the first time had broken it out since his uncle had one. Katara wondered why he had brought it… perhaps a gift from his sister? Or his mother – after all she doubted the Prince had no ties beyond his uncle and sibling.
The game commenced shortly and proceeded in silence. As usual he seemed to prefer silence, simply concentrating on the game, and Katara was tired of trying to stir him up. As it was she needed to focus on the game. She had assumed he was not that good when he confessed to never winning a game, but she realized he actually had said he had never beaten his sister or the General at the game.
As it was he emerged triumphant, though she was certain she had made him wary a few times. When she made no sign of demanding a rematch, staring at the final lay of the board as if accusing the pieces for falling so, Zuko removed himself to his meditation mat and this time she permitted him to lose himself in attuning to the flames around him.
Deciding not to return to her own chambers just yet she walked back to his desk and sifted through the scrolls he had stored and laid out. The memoirs were of no interest to her, but what she knew about the Air Nomads was limited to legends more than a century old. Her eyes widened as she opened the final scroll, and her eyes darted to the Prince, who seemed unaware or uncaring of her actions.
"Does he realize… of course he does," Katara thought, "but he doesn't know about me. It's not what I need, but it may be enough – it will be enough."
Resolve burning in her chest, she returned the scroll to its proper place and set the desk to as much order as it had previously held. Taking it was ludicrous though tempting. Even if he turned out to be the lending type he owed her nothing, and worse it might make him suspicious. Their ignorance was her only advantage, the sole hope of regaining her freedom.
She would need to get back in this room and into this situation where she could study it however briefly. Opening the door she looked back to see Prince Zuko had opened his eyes to see her go.
The smile she gave him as she left lingered long after the metal came between them, and in spite of himself Zuko felt unease recalling it. That expression reminded him of Azula in the Agni Kais he had watched her in; they marked the moment she realized how she was going to win.
Months Later:
Zuko stood on the observation deck looking out on the shore of the continent. It was not for the usual reasons he was haunting this perch, though he was loath to admit it. Though if pressed he would admit the fact he had been quite foolish and Azula would laugh at his folly before reprimanding him for it if she was here.
It had become a regular occurrence for the Water Tribe girl to visit his quarters for a matter of time; the exact length varied depending on what happened. Sometimes she demanded a game of Pai Sho, and occasionally she had even managed to beat him. Other times his uncle meddled to have them share dinner in his quarters; it would be less insulting if the old man's motives weren't so transparent. She had tried at times to get him to reveal things about his life but he did not trust her with any more secrets than she already had. And at times she just let him meditate and for a wonder sat quietly until she decided to leave.
It was a diversion and likely fulfilled the purpose Uncle had outlined of lending credence to the sham of an affair the old man had cooked up. It could even on occasion be called enjoyable and was usually tolerable, which made his mistake all the more inexcusable.
The slave was prodding him about his family life and touched upon the delicate subject of his mother. Zuko loved his mother, there was no denying that, but just as he had always hated how his father had never acknowledged him he knew Azula hurt from their mother's aloofness toward her. He had known she would react poorly if she ever found out about them, and though he was not on Azula's level in reading people he could tell that whatever happened between the two had shaken his sister.
Zuko was not sure how his mother felt about him now, but he was certain love was still in the foundation. Their father was a different story; Azula had helped him realize what exactly Fire Lord Ozai was for his own good. And of all the things his sire was, tolerant was not one of them. Azula was tossed aside by her favored parent and Fire Lady Ursa had still been unable to offer her any of the comfort she had deserved in Zuko's mind.
So his feelings towards his mother were complex and he did not appreciate this slave from the frozen reaches of the world prying. So he had turned the tables by asking about her own mother. And he learned the true meaning of the old saying, sticking your fist into a wasp nest, shortly after.
His at the time seemingly reasonable demand had set off a bomb he had not realized was there. Her mother was dead, a casualty of the Southern Raids. Her father had left for the war on the continent leaving her to look after a brother. And when she herself had been carried off in a raid she failed her duty to that same brother and she didn't know if any of her family were even still alive. That was putting it a lot nicer than she had said it.
So after she almost literally stormed out he had cleaned himself off – somehow she had spilled the water pitcher even as she was marching about the room, precariously placed he guessed – and now came here to think.
Apologizing was out of the question, his query had been legitimate and he had not known, not to mention the difference in rank would not allow it. Still, some manner of reconciliation was in order; he had been at fault to a degree and denying it was weakness. Times like this he ached for his sister especially, with a few words she would make the path he needed to take clear as the summer sky. He would find it eventually but the longer it took the harder the slave would be to deal with.
"So it is a Fire Nation ship," the Captain concluded. The scout confirmed it, one of the metal terrors of these seas had made anchor off the cove his ship had hidden itself in.
It made sense but was also strange. These waters were disputed between the Northern Water Tribe raiders/smugglers and the Fire Navy. The land hereabouts was also chaotic; the major settlements were occupied firmly but beyond their fields resistance groups wandered the countryside impeding the occupation any way they could. Corsairs like himself lived off the chaos and occasionally even sold their sails to one side or the other. As such he understood the rules for all the factions in the region, and a lone Fire Nation vessel was a bolt from the blue.
Big ships fit for taking a town could come through confident in the Waterbenders not risking a force to take it on. Smaller vessels traveled in convoys, typically escorting the massive freighters that hauled everything from Fire Nation personnel to supplies supporting the occupation. A lone scout was an apple waiting to be plucked, and he didn't like it. Though it appeared the Fire Nation was unaware of their presence nearby.
He had learned all of three lessons at his father's knee before the man went to sea for good, most prominent being "If it seems too good to be true, it's a lie." Luck did not stretch this far, not good luck at any rate.
"You're over thinking things captain. Sometimes karma throws you a freebie," his first mate spoke up. He glared down at the short man in the headband; his sales pitch was good for unloading cargo at port but long association had made it clear his opinions were dubious at best.
"Military ships don't make for a good prize; overstocked merchant mariners with cheap security, those are good prizes," the captain stated, reaching up to stroke his parrot-salamander.
"Might not be military. Like you I'm thinking this is not normal. May be a captured ship doing smuggling, or some higher up doing some business off the books. Either way I think something sweet is in yon iron honeycomb," the first mate persisted. Other crewmen gathered on deck murmured in agreement at the prospect of a big take. The captain turned his attention to a man who had yet to speak his piece, watching the proceedings leaning against the main mast.
"What do you think Balan?" the captain asked. Balan pushed up his straw-hat to reveal a plain face with a coating of stubble an easy grin that showed a gold tooth, which matched the color of his eyes.
"Why ask me? I was in the army you know that. As far as the army is concerned the navy is an overpriced carrying service with delusions of grandeur," the Fire Nation deserter stated mildly before openly chuckling. His fellow crewmen joined in on laughing at the jab at the force that ruled these seas. The captain was not amused; in this business one mistake easily meant ruin or death.
"Please decide quickly. I really don't care what you decide but waiting is irritating. If you attack I will get ready, if you let them pass I will nap. Both are good, but waiting on you to decide is not," a one-eared woman declared. She was perched on the railing, balanced on the balls of her feet, hands resting on her knees. Her appearance was ragged; she looked more like a beggar than a pirate, her hair was ill kept and waist length looking like it hadn't seen attendance in years. He couldn't see the scarred hole where one of her ears used to be, or the unsettling blue eyes staring thankfully away from him, but still this woman's presence chilled him.
If she weren't such an asset he would have killed Neira in her sleep long ago. He didn't know why the Northern Water Tribe banished her, but he could make some good guesses.
"The clouds are moving in, we'll attack at the hour of the wolf," the captain announced, making his decision. His men cheered at the coming raid while the woman simply leaned forward diving into the water below.
"Young Prince, do you know the reason Firebending is different from the other three forms of bending," the Master inquired. He was a truly massive man, one of the tallest the prince had ever seen and his body declared decades of diligent training to give him the appearance of one who could twist metal in his oversized hands. The only hair he had left was snow white and that was gathered back in a pony tail that fell across his broad back. All in all he was far more impressive than the combat masters, which puzzled the Prince.
"Firebending is ruled by passion. Passion when controlled is the path to power and power is the key to asserting your will over the world around you," the young royal answered. He frowned at the baritone laughter of the giant.
"Categorically answered, that is if the category is propaganda at least. The truth of the matter is superiority of an element or bending style is relative with none being truly supreme over the others.
"That being said, differences do exist, and these can allow certain advantages. For example a Waterbender's abilities improve vastly when near or on a body of water, while in say a desert they are crippled. In the same manner an Earthbender would be foolish to seek trouble on the ocean. And only a fool would engage a master Earthbender in a cave or stone structure where they could command all angles of possible attack.
"Firebenders and Airbenders do not have such geographic constraints, though Firebender power does wax and wane by the sun's presence.
"What separates Firebending is far more basic than national ideals or even how it is used. The alchemists have for over a century determined all things in the material world fall into two states of being – matter and energy. Matter has three forms solid, liquid, and vapor.
"The key to bending is chi, the energy of life that all forms of life possess. Benders and bending animals possess an abundance of chi and the ability to use it, sort of like an extra limb. No, not exactly like, I am oversimplifying things so you can begin to understand.
"Now where was I? Ah yes. With the other three nations bending is a matter of using your chi to harness a form of matter. Solid for the Earthbenders, liquid for the Waterbenders, and vapor for the Airbenders," the master explained.
"But there are more liquids than water, and wouldn't wood or metal be under an Earthbender's command?" the Prince asked.
"Brehhahaha! Good questions, but for now you should listen instead of asking them.
"Firebending is different in that it is energy rather than matter that the bender commands. Think of a pair of spark rocks, one is the Firebender's chi the other is the ambient energy in the world around him. The two collide and heat is generated, and creates fire.
"Fire of course is the most basic expression of energy, thus a master can generate lightning which is a more refined form of energy. Similarly Waterbenders can condense liquid water into solid ice and liquefy ice into water."
"So Firebending is destructive because it is based in conflict? The bender assailing the world rather than becoming part of it?" The young Prince pondered, looking aside to the tranquil palace grounds. Ironic the place that was most dedicated to chaos and destruction affected such a serene appearance.
"Must you be so condemning? I find a flask half full approach to life healthier," someone sighed. Whipping his head around Iroh saw the master was gone, replaced by a shorter man who was no less intimidating in copper battle armor. Pouring himself a saucer of sake the newcomer looked up to the Dragon of the West with a weary expression.
"You're not one of mine, sadly. But you still have a role to play. I doubt we'll be able to chat once things get moving so I'm bending the rules for this," he explained.
"This is a dream; are you a spirit?" Iroh asked now armored for battle himself and in his prime.
"No, well not technically. Anyway you had better not go down that pathetic deserter's road. Energy is the essence of life not liquid despite what they might tell you. The truest healing lies beyond the flames, when chi is yours to command."
"I don't understand," Iroh admitted, increasingly confused by this beings words.
"You're not meant too, in fact you won't even remember this when you wake up. This is all about putting that thought into the back of your head for later. On the off chance you do remember, tell Roku he will lose. Happy waking!" the stranger cheered, draining his saucer. Then the world shattered to the peals of bells.
Iroh's eyes opened and he knew he had been in a dream of some weight; this disorientation was something that he had come to associate with such experiences. Furrowing his brow he realized the dream had already faded beyond memory.
It was less than a second before he registered the alarm for what it was, and Iroh was on his feet in the next, a sweeping gaze clarifying his chamber was secure and he was at his armor's cabinet before his tossed sheets landed on the floor. With speed borne of experience he armored himself, only the truly useful pieces, dismissing any ornamental or trivial components without thought. The boots he went without, not a particularly good idea but the time needed to secure them could prove critical and wearing them unsecured was not acceptable. So with boots under arm be burst through his door and a quick check in both directions showed only Katara looking around in confusion.
"An attack, stay safe," he ordered as he dashed past her. He passed two soldiers and kept pace with them inquiring if they knew anything. Just one thing – pirates. That let him relax a little; the Water Tribe was quite difficult to deal with on the ocean. The Earth Kingdom Navy was not a force to fear from the early days of the war to today, but their elite marines had inflicted significant damage in the past. This far north it would either be Earth Kingdom canon fodder or their best.
Pirates though were businessmen, of the worst kind, but still profit motivated them. Money was not worth dying for, so they just needed to show stiff resistance… And then they mentioned the pirates had benders. Whose bad karma was bringing this?
They arrived at a deck door, a single spearman guarding three wounded and the passageway.
"General Iroh, the enemy is running amok on deck, but we repelled them from the observation level," the sentry offered. Iroh recognized the mixture of anxiety and thrill in the young man's gaze, his first battle. His beard was a wispy excuse for facial hair that he would have been better off shaving, and he could be dead in minutes.
"You stay with him, protect our men and this position," Iroh ordered the youngest looking of the two soldiers that had accompanied him before opening the door and stepping out into his old workplace. A realm of death and pain as strangers fought among themselves.
The situation was clear as he assessed the battlefield the deck had become. Lieutenant Jee and most of the Firebenders where secure in a half circle with the tower and ocean to their backs attacking and deflecting most assaults but effectively in check as smoke bombs burst among their ranks and arrows pelted them. Iroh's expression grew grim as a spearmen fell, an arrow lodged in his throat; death would come soon.
A battle line had formed and been broken, Jee and his half holding, the rest…
There was a particular morbidness to a Fire Nation soldier being engulfed in flames, more so when a Firebender was responsible. Iroh saw the man wade through the battle on the deck, which had become a confused melee. He was no criminal or exile; his stance and movements declared him a skilled soldier. Under many circumstances the General could sympathize with deserters, but this was no man of honor objecting to the horrors of the war. This man, with his tattered and bright clothing, showed a golden tooth as he grinned over the still twitching corpse of his victim.
The blast was too narrow and brief to be called a proper blast. More like an arrow in quality. Form and execution were flawless; cutting through the chaos it left all unmarked save for the intended target.
The deserter tried to scream as fire burst against his throat. Iroh did not wait to watch him go down on the deck. He should live, provided no one else decided to kill him. Iroh saw the sword coming, the man was big strong and fast, but it was all talent without skill. Evading the blow by stepping out of reach, the General stepped inside his attacker's guard, striking his bare stomach with his forearm. The pirate did not fold too much but enough for Iroh's same arm to retract and encircle the man's arms in a hold.
Pulling his fist across his chest Iroh brought the larger man down to his level, fore arms and sword held hostage. The pirate tried to jerk free, without having to look Iroh brought his other arm into play and with a swift jerk he heard both arms break and the sword fall to the ground. Releasing the howling man behind him he searched the field for his nephew, dread pooling in his chest.
He had found Prince Zuko and the other pirate bender. Under other circumstances he would reflect in it as a fascinating contrast. The duel was fierce, forming a rough circle of emptiness around the duelists as both sides were fearful of being drawn into the conflict, like an inverted storm with a ring of calm around an eye of turbulence. The Waterbender was a young woman, her clothes were once of Water Tribe cut but had faded and turned into rags crudely sewn together and patched, her hair was an untamed matted mane that shifted inelegantly with her movements. When the turn of the duel showed her blazing eyes it only confirmed what he feared – his nephew was fighting a madwoman.
The style she employed may have begun as Northern Water Style, but it was crude in the higher forms, effective but lacking the refinement of a trained bender. Self taught or gained from scrolls, and in the end it was more like Firebending in the aggressive intent that pervaded the movements.
Advancing on the dancing fight was not a conscious decision; he became aware of it when his tunnel vision cleared to reveal a spear-wielding pirate charging at him. He calmly assumed his stance as the pirate leapt over a fallen man and stabbed out with what momentum he retained. The General calmly sidestepped the spearhead and seized the passing shaft with his left hand, halting it in his grip. The pirate blinked in confusion, Iroh's right foot shot up, and though bootless the foot snapped the grayed wood clean in two. The pirate looked from the broken shaft in his hand to the old man still holding the spearhead, and then he ran away.
Zuko grunted despite himself as the water whip bit into his right arm. He could feel the wound along his forearm, shallow enough to not cause much trouble thanks to the armor. Still, first blood was hers and he had yet to get through her defenses. His first time dueling another type of bender and it wasn't even the earthbenders Azula used to talk about. The scrolls were useless; this was nothing like the style they described.
The deranged girl's attention turned from him whirling to face… Uncle? Stepping into the killing ground it took the Prince a moment to recognize the grim faced figure with undone hair, incomplete armor and a weapon in hand. The face was what had thrown him, blank and grim; it was an expression he had never seen before on the strange old man.
Snapping fingers on both hands the Waterbender uncorked two more flasks dangling from her person and with a rotating swipe of her arms sent two cutting streams of water at the old man. General Iroh opened his mouth and breathed fire, the inscrolled water vaporizing in the display.
The Firebending pirate stopped dead in his pursuit of the one who downed him, as that technique and the age of the bender using it called something to mind.
"Shit," he muttered, abandoning all thoughts of aiding his crewmate for a retreat.
The mad bender stood stunned at the display; she had never even heard of a technique like that. She would pay dearly for those moments of hesitation. The spearhead hurtled toward her, a clumsy throw all things considered. Since she lacked water to defend with, it was good enough as she practically had to leap out of the way. She straightened up in time to receive an armored knee in the stomach. Bending over, gasping the air from her lungs, she received the overhead strike without apparent objections, clasped fists slamming into the back of her skull. She was already fading before her head banged to a stop against the metal deck.
The Pirates retreated shortly after their Waterbender went down, someone in their ranks shouting that they had to run, this ship belonged to the Dragon of the West. Already paying more than they wanted on this ship, they quickly abandoned it to their ropes and with years honed experience unfurled their sail aided by oars to peel away.
"After them!" Prince Zuko commanded after a fire blast of his fell short of the retreating vessel.
"No, let them go. Tend to the wounded and make sure no stragglers are still onboard," General Iroh, countered walking up to the men gathering around the Prince.
"Uncle we can't just let them-!" Zuko retorted.
"Prince Zuko, we have lost men and may loose more within the hour. These are the home waters of those pirates and they know how to run from Fire Nation ships. Even if we catch them they will fight harder than ever if cornered. We put our own house in order then put these waters behind us," the veteran commander declared. The soldiers dispersed, carrying out the orders of their superior. Further objections from the Prince were stillborn as his Uncle fixed him with a glare Fire Lord Ozai would be proud of. "I know what I'm doing, you don't," it said.
Wilting under the look he was humiliated at being rescued, and his opponent had been defeated with apparent ease, he walked off. Only to stop after a few paces to partly turn back towards the older bender, after a conflicted look crossed his face he spoke.
"Uncle," he stated.
"Prince Zuko," Iroh answered evenly.
"Would you have me as your student again?" the Prince asked. To him it felt like a confession.
"Of course, we begin again at first light," Iroh stated. Nodding, Zuko turned away again and continued on his way, completely unaware of the tiny smile on his Uncle's face.
Reaching an entrance he waited for two crewmen to carry a corpse inside only to be preceded by Katara coming out. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance, his expression narrowing as he recalled the deranged Waterbender.
"We won, sorry to disappoint you," the Prince said to her, brushing Katara aside as he entered the ship.
The hustle of the crowd, the sounds of people going about their business, and the criers of the respective booths calling out over it all; the two girls were frankly out of their element in the circus crowd.
"This place is disgusting," Mai griped. Azula turned to see the dark garbed girl holding a hand to her nose. The princess was not sure if her friend meant the peasants, the smell of fried foods, or the odor of dung. In her case it was all of the above.
At last they reached a perimeter where the crowd noticeably did not pass. Just a set of shoulder high poles between two tents, oh, and a pair of overly muscled men in red vests with gold necklaces. As they approached, clearly intent on their course, one of them pulled himself up from his position leaning on the poles to stand in their path, muscular arms crossed arms.
"Sorry ladies, this area is for staff only, better hurry and buy the big top tickets before they're all gone," he informed them with a bored voice. Understandable she supposed, this was probably something he did all the time. Her problem was the appreciative smile as he looked them over. How stupid was he?
"I see, well we have business with a staff member so this must be the place," Azula answered evenly. Adding a small bit of her grace she made to weave around the brute, only to almost walk into his now outstretched arm.
"Hmm, quicker than I thought, guess his bouncing is better than his brains," Azula thought to herself.
"Business can wait till after the show, see the ringmaster if you want back there then," the bouncer almost growled. Azula scowled and began to slide into a stance – no mere peasant told her what she could do.
As it was, the situation was taken out of her hands as brute number two appeared, grabbing his fellow's shoulder. Leaning into brute number 1's ear she caught him whisper one word, "army". The offending brute looked confused for a moment as he turned his attention to Azula and his eyes widened. Now it registered that she was wearing an officer's uniform. He proved how fast he really was with how quick his arm vanished behind his back. Azula did not bother to regard him with the devilish smile she wore as Mai followed her into the staff tents.
Never one to waste time Azula literally grabbed the first person they came across in the restricted area.
"Ty Lee?" she made the name a question. The gaudily dressed man's expression shifted from surprise to irritation as she halted his passing by seizing his forearm. However, unlike the gate ruffians he was not blind, and immediately recognized their attire and posture as signs of affluence far surpassing his own.
He pointed back and to the right of where he had come from. Azula gave no acknowledgement beyond releasing him and following the direction he gave.
Fortunately for all in the area the two fresh-minted officers soon came across a girl with a long braid and pink attire stretching herself in ways humans most humans would never consider possible.
"It has been a while," Azula greeted, stepping up to the acrobat. Ty Lee looked up – well, technically down as her current position placed her scalp on the grass. Despite an excellent memory for faces and auras it took a moment for her mind to process the upside down image of Azula.
"Azula!" Ty Lee piped. Popping up from her contortion with a disconcerting speed she proceeded to tackle embrace the princess. Azula cringed as a nervous smile appeared on her face, whether it was from the general lack of such contact (baring a certain relative) or the painful force of the squeezing was hard to say.
"Obviously time hasn't damaged your enthusiasm," Mai groaned at the sight. She immediately regretted the words as they drew the acrobat/martial artist's attention to her own presence. If Ty Lee's face had light up before it was positively beaming now. Mai vainly held up a hand in a warding gesture as the pink girl wove around it to glomp her.
"And Mai too, I knew today was going to be a good day!" Ty Lee cheered.
"Uh, nice to see you too," Mai choked out. She began to think Azula had worn armor not to avoid trouble but to shield herself from Ty Lee's deceptively powerful enthusiasm.
"So this is what you have been up to since graduation. Not exactly what your family had in mind I imagine," Azula commented, dusting herself off. Ty Lee slackened, but did not release her grip on Mai, to turn some attention on her other friend.
"Well one of the perks of being the youngest of several is there are not many expectations left," Ty Lee shrugged. Azula smiled in response, the acrobat could not claim lying as one of her skills.
"Oh but Azula! I was so sorry to hear about your teacher on Ember Island, loss always dims one's aura," Ty Lee apologized. Disengaging from Mai she would likely have reglomped Azula to comfort her friend had the princess not taken a step back and raised her hand.
"Yes, the Fire Nation lost a true soldier and a gentleman that day. If you know about that, you know I am bound for the war. Mai has accepted the position of my adjutant," Azula hastily added. Ty Lee turned on the spot and noticed Mai was indeed wearing an officer armband along with her usual attire, the mark representing major, though she was unaware of that.
"Mai, a soldier, you?" Ty Lee queried.
"Well I've got to do something to get out from under my mother and the matchmakers," Mai sighed. Azula noted how Ty Lee cringed slightly at the last word.
"Anyway, we have some matter to discuss with you before we make the last leg of our voyage to the Third Army headquarters at Azulon," Azula put in. Ty Lee wilted a bit, but kept up her perky appearance; despite her often-sickening optimism she was not naïve.
"Oh I look forward to catching up but the show will be starting soon and I have to get ready!" Ty Lee announced. Azula gave one of her signature smiles.
"Of course, and the two of us will have to see you perform. I understand you are one of the star attractions," Azula affirmed.
"That's, wonderful, I hope you enjoy the show," Ty lee smiled nervously.
The Ringmaster made a point of giving Azula and Mai the best seats, along with introducing her as the Princess and General Azula. Even Mai received some attention, though she only sighed calling the fanfare troublesome.
Azula for her part could hardly be bothered to pay attention. She would never understand how peasants could swoon over these theatrics. The epics of the Warring States Era and of the current war were enthralling; this she could care less about.
She supposed Ty Lee's acrobatics on high were interesting enough. But she had seen the girl develop these skills over the years and was accustomed to the sense defying abilities she possessed. Now if you upped the ante with some fire and perhaps a few tiger-bears… But she couldn't do that to the girl, especially when she needed her for a favor.
Once the Ringmaster wrapped up the show Azula made her exit quick, returning to the spot they had spoken with Ty Lee.
"Ty's tent is the pink one by the ostrich-horse pens," someone called out to them. Azula, while irritated someone would call out to her in such a fashion – it reminded her of posing as a servant for the old bastard – followed the directions. Mai found it convenient to be the princess' silent shadow, adding nothing.
The tent was right were the informer had said it would be, and it was indeed very pink. Hearing activity inside Azula let herself in. Ty Lee turned on the stool she was perched on at the abrupt entrance. She was changing out of her gaudy stage costume, not that Azula seemed to care, taking a seat on the acrobat's bed, to leave Mai standing in the doorway.
"Well that was interesting. Now it is time we talked," Azula stated.
"Yeah you're going to the war. Please be careful," Ty Lee answered. The unguarded concern in her voice actually made Azula hesitant, but not unwilling to follow the course.
"I am no longer my father's favored," Azula admitted. Ty Lee actually dropped the bracelet she had just unclasped from her ankle.
"But you're the Fire Lord's pride," a stunned Ty Lee stammered, "He has made you the youngest general in the Fire Nation's history and the second woman to be a commander." Azula frowned at the last part, Ty Lee was treating a fable like fact, and it detracted from her status as the first woman in the post.
"He wants me out of the way. Never mind why, but Father no longer sees me as fit to follow in his footsteps. As for the General rank, the Third Army has been in garrison since Uncle's day. I'm expected to have them ready for the front by the next campaign season. If I fail, which is to be expected, I loose credibility in favor of whatever next child he gets from mother or a new Fire Lady. And if I succeed, well he can still bolster his reputation by my virtues.
"The Third is full of Uncle's old men and rejects from the real armies. Mai might not have the experience for her position, but I can trust her more than men who hate my father and men hungry for his favor," Azula explained.
"You really know how to stroke my ego," Mai commented. Ty Lee turned back to Azula and looked her over; the princess actually shifted a bit. Scrutinizing was something Azula had grown accustomed to, but from Ty Lee it was a bolt from the blue.
"There is a gray film on your aura, that's no good," Ty Lee stated in all seriousness.
"What in the sunless lands?" Azula thought. Her head snapped around to glare at Mai; while the dark girl's expression was normal Azula was certain she had heard a snicker.
"Is there?" Azula answered, after trying to formulate an appropriate resonance for the ridiculous statement.
"I'm afraid so. In my experience, this happens when your heart cracks. Which is like heartbreak, but not so bad, like being angry instead of furious," the girl in pink explained unhelpfully. Azula was about to steer the conversation back on course, when Ty Lee sprang forward to hug her. Not one of her token bone bruising glomps, but what could pass for a normal – as in, none of the present company – embrace.
"You miss Zuko, don't you?" Ty Lee asked. Azula blinked as the girl pulled away, and despite all past experience with her scanned the girl for any malign intent in her posture at that potentially damning knowledge.
"Well he is my brother, annoying as he can be. But we are here to talk about you," Azula brushed off the question.
"Me?" Ty Lee asked. Having stripped down to her under dress she started putting on her customary pink attire.
"You. I am afraid this is not purely a social call," Azula admitted. Ty Lee had a pensive look on her face when it popped back into view through her top. Azula had suspected the girl was shrewder than she let on, perhaps she saw where this was going.
"I would like you to serve as my yojimbo," Azula announced. For the first time in their association Ty Lee was at a complete loss for words.
"Excuse me?" she finally managed.
"My personal bodyguard. Royalty and heirs have the right to retain an elite fighter at all times to protect their lives. It used to be any noble family back in the States Era, but the practice was limited to royalty by Genrusai. It's been out of fashion because Fire Lords prefer an untouchable image and the presence of a protective shadow implies a fear for their mortality.
"However, I am more pragmatic than proud. I am stepping into the viper-spider nest and if I hope to achieve anything I need to be able to act knowing my back will remain dagger free," Azula explained.
"I'm… I'm not a soldier. Fighting darkens even the brightest auras," Ty Lee weakly stated turning her face from Azula.
"Your job wouldn't be to attack people; it would be to defend me. You're a prodigy yourself in the martial arts, and judging by your performance those skills have not diminished," Azula pointed out. She recalled how horrified she had been the first time she witnessed the Sealing Strike style, a martial art developed around disabling bending and your opponent's body. Then and now she was thankful this girl was not a Firebender, if that were the case she might have rivaled the royal family's prowess.
"Actually your ability to bring down potential assassins alive and ready for questioning is preferable to royal guard tactics of burn first then ask questions," Azula added lightly.
"Azula, I've never felt more at home than I do here," Ty Lee responded. Mai shifted, catching the pleading undertone, while Azula affected not to notice.
"You know it won't last. Your family knows where you are; they probably have from the moment you became a central ring event. For the moment they let you do as you please out of indulgence or shame, but that will not go on forever.
"These aren't the days when men could trade and sell us like prize mounts, but we are still beholden to our parents in marriage. Even as the youngest you retain value and they will try and cash in on the time they invested in you. Right now you have no legal grounds to refuse them, and your only choice would be to run or tie the knot with whomever they picked out for you. Either way all of this and your freedom vanish.
"Military service emancipates women by laws set down centuries ago. Your obligation moves from your family to the state, specifically your commanding officer. And I can give you more freedom than stranger-in-laws or a fugitive life. All I ask is that you keep me safe," Azula told her. She actually reached out and gently clasped the other girl's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, as if giving her permission to refuse.
Being told she would need to think about it, the Princess and the gloomy girl departed.
"You really can be a bitch," Mai observed as they made their way from the circus grounds.
"Oh?" Azula responded with a light smile.
"You play on her desire to keep us safe and then her fear of being forced into marriage. Some choice; with guilt and fear gnawing at her you may as well have threatened her into enlisting," Mai laid out with the slightest hint of admonishment.
"Threats may have done it, but I need a reliable friend more than a tool that could turn on me. As for being a bitch, well there has never been room for compassion in the court; why do you think Uncle and Zuko are in exile while my father sits on the Blazing Throne?" Azula admitted. Mai couldn't be sure if it was a trace of guilt she glimpsed in her friend's words. Anyway, it was clear things were going to get interesting, and that made putting up with her worthwhile.
Present Day:
Shore leave, two words Iroh was coming to appreciate. Leave was welcome relief for a soldier in which he could escape the mundane life punctuated by conflict that constituted the front. To those who traveled the seas he found it had a different aspect, a chance for the world to expand once more beyond the bounds of a ship. Granted, the nature of their mission lead to landfall more than was typical, but actually putting into a port let you reconnect with civilization more than those excursions ever could.
He had taken it upon himself to hit the marketplace – commerce was the center of peoples' lives, people were the life of the city, and the marketplace was the bustling beating heart. It had been a most fruitful excursion, with many insights into the world, humanity and the nature of civilization; not to mention bargains.
A pity Prince Zuko had not joined him, though his two strapping escorts seemed to be taking the burden of his purchases bravely. The Prince had gone off to check with the garrison and news post for information on the Avatar. A task Iroh believed would only further foul his nephew's mood. Which had been darkening since the raid.
He had even forbidden Katara from coming ashore. It was not even like he cared if she tried to escape; it seemed that Iroh's own efforts to create a bond between the two were failing.
Well life was never meant to easy. Zuko resuming his training under him was movement in the right direction and he would build from there.
But all things come to an end and now he returned to the ship to take stock of the day's events and items. This was not a proper military port and would not be able to handle the larger vessels but it was the home port of a handful of light class naval vessels, thus it fit their needs.
As they passed through the guard station from the open port to the naval docks the sentries stiffened and saluted the General, which he acknowledged with a nod. While he no longer took pride in the achievements that made him esteemed in the eyes of so many young Fire Nationals it would be rude not to acknowledge respect given in sincerity.
Making his way to the Dawn Runner he noticed Katara waiting at the top of the gangplank. Ah, nothing quite like having someone waiting for your return.
"Katara, I trust you have been enjoying the change in scenery," Iroh greeted her as he made his way up the gangplank.
"Thanks to the Prince that's all I've been able to enjoy. The Lieutenant said to tell you that the new provisions will be loaded tonight and the maintenance check will begin in the morning," Katara grinned. Iroh was quite pleased Jee was willing to let her pass on information, however trivial.
"That reminds me; I found something to help you during your travels with us. Oh my, how did I end up with so much stuff? Well it's in here somewhere," Iroh declared as he started to rummage through his purchases. Katara stepped forward to assist him only to be waved off as he stood up holding something… what, she couldn't be certain.
It was a long metal pipe that curved back on itself in a circle with five holes on the front. The General sipped it around himself – barely – and played a few sour notes before thankfully taking it off.
"It's a new instrument, only about a decade since they started making them. They're called hanabi pipes. When played right they are as forceful and beautiful as fireworks against the night sky. I'm sure you will come to master them in no time at all," he declared, handing the contraption to the girl.
"…Thanks," Katara answered, while her face expressed the opposite feeling.
"Uncle," Zuko's voice cut through the scene as he stormed up the gangplank and past them without any further acknowledgement. Katara blinked in surprise as she watched his back retreat; even he was not that rude, normally. She noticed a piece of parchment held in his hand before he disappeared into a tower door. Turning to the General to ask about it she saw he was stroking his beard with a thoughtful look on his face.
"Excuse me Katara, it seems something has come up," he inclined his head to her before setting off.
The General left Katara with her promising future in the musical arts to clear the waters with his nephew. That is not to say he went straight after him. The first stop was the galley where he gave a few packs of spices to the cook, one of which the cook threw in the garbage upon inspection. That taken care of he went to the observation deck and found his nephew leaning against the railing arms spread out, lightly holding the proclamation. Iroh had seen one like it posted in town, so had Zuko apparently.
"It is quite the achievement. Lu Ten used to dream about becoming a general in his own right; I also held such foolish notion at that age. Still, Azula seems to be living up to expectations," Iroh reflected. He walked over to the railing and joined the Prince, but looking out over the port instead.
"She was training with this man for six months. Azula was caught up in a raid, and now she's going to war as the youngest general in history. It's the same," Zuko declared. The last sentence in particular rustled with bitterness.
"As what?" Iroh asked puzzled.
"The Academy; I had no idea what she was doing, how, or even with who. She made friends with Mai and Ty Lee and I didn't know about it till she told me when she came back. I thought she hated me when I saw her again," Zuko recalled. Iroh nodded in agreement, his brother would be the type to cut her off from home entirely. And he had been fooled into thinking his brother had destroyed the affection between his niece and nephew, when instead it had been warped into a travesty.
That still bothered him; that he had been fooled for so long. Azula would have made a peerless actress, but he had seen through such deceptions before. Perhaps the enmity between him and his own brother had made it easy for him to believe the two could grow so cold? Granted he and Ozai had not really grown up together with the number of years between them.
But Zuko was talking again.
"…No idea how long it will take. The Avatar is out there, but it's been six months and we seem no closer. Is this it then? I have to wait for proclamations to know about the most important person in my life!" he seethed crumpling the paper in his grasp.
Iroh sighed at the gesture – ah to be young and prone to melodrama. His brow furrowed; he had a solution, of sorts, but did he really want to encourage Zuko in this regard? No, he absolutely did not. Better to try and shift his focus to nearer women, who were not his sister.
"Have you though about writing to her?" Iroh asked innocently. Inside he moaned, why did doing the right thing have to be the opposite of what he wanted to do?
Author's Note:
Hurray, finally some movement in the right direction. Next episode will focus on Azula with some attention to the crew of the Dawn Runner. Yeah I named Zuko's ship. I apologize for the delay; really hope it doesn't take this long next time. Kassel, out!
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