That men do not learn very much from the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons that History has to teach. –Aldous Huxley

Chapter Three: Legends and History

Fire Lord Ursa,

I'm writing to you from a tiny island in the Earth Kingdom called Kyoshi Island. Have you heard of it? We were following the migrations of the polar marlin north when a storm blew in and wreaked havoc on our ships. There were no serious injuries but our vessels are another matter. Luckily, we were able to limp along to the nearest port, from which I write to you now, to make repairs.

The island is fascinating. This seems to be one of the few communities in the Earth Kingdom that wasn't touched by the war. They knew about it, of course, but apparently maintained a strict neutrality all these years. My son, Sokka, was both fascinated and disturbed by the fact that the warriors of the island are all women. They train their girls at a young age to fight using fans and to move with stealth. Sokka made the mistake of making a flagrantly sexist comment to one of their young recruits. He walked away with a black eye. I'd say I was appalled…but I have a feeling Sokka had it coming.

We should be able to leave port in a few days, although many of the locals here have expressed interest in opening up trade. We could be here a while longer.

Because of these delays, I've found that I actually have to time to write and inquire after my daughter. How is she? Are she and your son actually getting along this time? And don't sugarcoat it for me; Katara will tell me how it really went when I see her at the end of the summer. She always does.

I hope this letter finds you, your family, and your nation in good health. Give Katara my love when you see her.

-Chief Hakoda

PS. It would interest you to know that those fire flakes we imported are causing a sensation in the South Pole. My mother-in-law insists it has changed her philosophy on cooking. The slight paunch I sported last winter is a testament to that.

Chief Hakoda,

I was sorry to read about your crew's misfortune at sea; I hope this does not injure your fishing industry too much. And no, I had not heard of Kyoshi Island before receiving your letter but I asked Iroh if he had and he launched into a lengthy monologue about how the island was created. I would write down the story for you here, but Iroh tells it much better than I ever could; he apparently has a whole routine. You will have to ask him about it at your next visit.

The children are doing marginally better than they have in years past. They still bicker like there is no tomorrow but so far there have only been minor bumps and bruises. However, I will not hold my breath. It is still too early in the summer to count out any major squabbles. Honestly, I do not understand why they seem incapable of getting along. Katara has never said an unkind thing to either Iroh or me and she even gets along with Azula relatively well considering how abrasive my daughter's attitude can be at times. And Zuko truly is the sweetest son a mother could ask for—rough around the edges, certainly—but sweet nonetheless.

On an unrelated note, Katara seems to have burned through all our library has to offer on the subject of waterbending. She practices the forms she has read about constantly. I am sure you have seen her do this at home, too. It is almost inspiring to watch. It does not come naturally to her, but she struggles through each form until it is beyond reproach. In this way, she and Zuko are very much alike. Although, I would argue that Katara is much more patient with herself than Zuko is with himself. Still, she has mastered nearly all our limited resources have to offer her. With your permission, I would like to procure for her a waterbending master. Iroh says he has an old friend in mind but I am a little wary of him. Master Pakku is from the Northern Tribe and I am acutely aware of their rules regarding female benders. However, perhaps he can be persuaded since she is your daughter.

Good luck on all your ventures this summer. Iroh and I will do our best to keep the children out of too much mischief.

Sincerely,

Fire Lord Ursa

PS. I am pleased the fire flakes were such a hit with your tribe. The sea prunes we have imported from your people have been, unfortunately, less popular. Katara is their primary consumer.

Katara slammed the tile on the Pai Sho board in triumph. "Ha!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning in satisfaction. "I win."

Zuko scowled at the board, eyes raking over the tiles. This was the third time that afternoon that she had beaten him. It was not fair. She had only just learned the game. He had been playing (and losing) this game with Uncle for years. How did she get so good so quickly? How?

Iroh chortled gleefully at the dismayed expression on his nephew's face. "Careful, Prince Zuko. Lady Katara just might teach you a thing or two about Pai Sho." He winked at the young girl as he took a sip of his ginseng tea and she grinned mischievously. Zuko looked away, scowling out the rain-streaked window.

"Honestly, Zu-Zu, the fact that you haven't figured out how she's doing it yet just proves that you're a dumb-dumb," Azula purred, eyes closed, as her friend Ty-Lee ran a brush through her hair.

"Really, Azula? Is that any way to speak to your brother?" The group collectively jumped. Fire Lord Ursa stood in the doorway of the study where the children played, hands unceremoniously on her hips. Her tawny eyes narrowed and her ruby lips formed a thin line.

"Fine," the girl huffed. "Sorry, Zu-Zu."

One delicate brow quirked at the acidic tone in the child's voice, but Ursa chose to ignore it and turned her attention to the other occupants of the room. "So, what have you all been up to?"

"Zuko's being a sore loser," Katara responded, a beatific smile stretched across her cheeks. It only broadened when Zuko turned the full force of his scowl on her.

"Am not."

"Are so."

"Am not."

"Are so."

"Children," Ursa cut in, before they could begin another row. "Perhaps that is enough games for one evening. Iroh, would you like to enthrall us with another one of your rousing tales?" She gave her friend a pointed look. Together they corralled the children on the floor in front of the fireplace; they made an extra effort to arrange Zuko and Katara next to each other, much to the annoyance of the former and the chagrin of the latter.

Iroh settled down into a cushion in front of the children. "Tonight I have a special tale for you. Who wants to learn about the first Agni Kai?"

"Uncle," Zuko sighed, annoyed, "we've already covered the history of the Agni Kai in our studies."

"Ah, but I bet our lovely friend, Katara, here has not heard the tale."

"It's not that interesting," the prince insisted.

"Then perhaps you could tell us the story, Prince Zuko." If the old general was at all upset by his nephew's behavior, he did not betray such feelings. Instead, he smiled. A silent challenge.

The prince huffed. "The first Agni Kai took place four centuries ago during the Jian Dynasty. There was a dispute over the island territories to the north, which came to a head when the Fire Lord's right hand general, General Agni, challenged the leader of the northern resistance, General Kai. The two faced off in a one-on-one battle, which ended in Kai's death and the northern islands were claimed. Since then, it has been used to settle disputes between fire benders and as a test of one's honor. Though rarely fatal, an Agni Kai does not end until one party has sustained burns."

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. Sifu-Kuzon would be pleased with his textbook answer.

"I see your tutors have been telling you the sterile version of events."

"Fine. What really happened, Uncle?" Azula cut in, impatient as ever.

Iroh ignored the question for the moment, turning to Katara, "Would you like to hear it, Katara?"

It was uncomfortable, feeling five pairs of eyes staring at her expectantly. While Iroh's and Ursa's were gentle and encouraging, the intensity of the glares from Ty Lee, Azula, and Zuko was unnerving. Ty Lee's wide, brown eyes threatened to engulf her face with excitement. The royal children's expressions were both haughty, daring her to respond to their uncle, though in vastly different ways. Azula's tawny eyes pierced her, insistent on hearing the tale, while her brother looked as though he might pop a blood vessel in his forehead if Katara indulged his uncle. Or, at least, she hoped it would. Either way, she responded in the affirmative.

"What Zuko said was mostly true," Iroh began, "but it lacked much of the story's heart and spirit; at the heart of this tale is a tragic love story."

Ty Lee and Katara exchanged giggles; Azula managed a mildly amused smile; Zuko groaned.

General Agni was the son of Fire Lord Jian; he possessed a keen strategic mind and equally impressive combative skills. Under his father's supervision, Agni expanded the territory of the Fire Nation and united the southern islands with the main island in the archipelago. Under the banner of Fire Lord Jian, the nation began to flourish.

However, there were those who saw a unified Fire Nation as a threat rather than blessing.

Villages in the northern islands had strong cultural and spiritual ties to not only the sun, but also to the rivers and ocean. In those days, before they isolated themselves in the frozen tundra of the north and south poles, waterbenders lived very scattered lives and served as healers throughout the world. It was there in those northern islands that a small sect of waterbenders found a home.

On one of his many "peaceful" visits to the northern islands, Agni first met her. Her name was Izumi. Izumi was a skilled healer in her village, kind, and fiercely protective of her people. He had spent less than a day in her village before he realized how the people looked to her for wisdom and guidance; he was besotted. It was through watching her that he formed his plan to take the village.

Agni intended to woo Izumi. If she could trust him, then he believed the village would follow suit. Taking the village could be painless for everybody.

And so his courtship with the healer began. At first, Izumi resisted his romantic overtures; she neither trusted him, nor was she interested in any sort of flirtation. She was unimpressed by his title and his background; she found his arrogance and persistence annoying. Yet, despite herself, she grew to care for him, and he for her.

Meanwhile, her brother, Kai, was growing restless. He did not like General Agni's troops waiting in the hills to claim his home in the name of Fire Lord Jian. He knew that those usurped under the Fire Lord's banner prospered, but at the cost of their identity as a people. For people like his sister, absorption into the Fire Nation would only lead to despair.

Izumi was well aware of both Agni's and Kai's wishes. Each day, she would try to reason with them individually, help them come to some sort of compromise. However, neither would relent, and, as a result, her bonds with both became strained.

Finally, one fateful morning, just as the sun peaked over the horizon, Agni and his troops approached the village. Kai and his band of renegades met him just outside the village's walls; he challenged the general to a duel.

Agni laughed, thinking his opponent to be a fool, and accepted the challenge. He underestimated him, however. What Kai lacked in strength and formal training, he more than made up for in speed and spirit. The fighting turned deadly quickly.

A crowd had begun to form; the cacophony drew Izumi out of her healing hut. She pushed through the throng to find her love and her brother burnt and bleeding, and preparing to strike again. Instinct carried her across their battleground. She thrust herself between them, pleading for them to stop, but it was too late. Almost simultaneously, she felt their blows, intended for each other. Kai struck her head; Agni struck her heart. She was gone before she hit the ground.

Now, it would have made sense for them to stop, to realize the horrible thing they had done. But they were too consumed in their anger to see, to feel their great loss. They continued until the ground beneath their feet was nearly molten and Kai crumbled next to his beloved sister.

The village was claimed swiftly after that; no one wanted to challenge the man who could destroy their leader, Kai. It was only after it was all over that Agni realized what he lost.

He erected a statue in her honor by the river but it crumbled only a few years after. Not long after that, people began to notice the waterbenders disappeared—not through any deliberate persecution. They just stopped being born.

Some of the villagers today insist Izumi's spirit lingers, healing the sick and comforting the dying. Some claim to see her standing on the banks of the river there, as if waiting for something, but for what no one knows.

"And that's how the tradition of the Agni Kai first came into existence. Coincidentally, it is also one of the many origin stories for a local myth, the Painted Lady."

"That's really sad," Katara said after a moment.

"No, it wasn't," Zuko retorted. "It was stupid. The whole mess could have been avoided if Kai had just cooperated with Agni to begin with."

"He was just trying to protect his people—"

"And another thing," Zuko continued, as if Katara had not spoken, "Izumi's 'sacrifice' was totally pointless. What was she going to do? Make them play nice? Hn."

"Kai was just trying to preserve his people's identity and Izumi was just trying to protect the people she loved. How's that stupid?"

Ursa and Iroh chanced a glance at one another. What they had hoped would serve as a distraction for the children dramatically backfired. Iroh was already mentally kicking himself for this story choice.

Zuko and Katara were on their feet now. The prince crossed his arms over his chest as he sneered at the girl his family chose for him. His betrothed glared up at him, fists balled at her sides. Her cheeks were steadily flushing a deeper and deeper crimson. Soon, her face would match Zuko's tunic.

"What was there to preserve? They were one, tiny village!"

"What do you know?" Katara spat in his face and stormed out of the room.

Iroh rose from his cushion on the floor to follow the child but Ursa's insistent hand, wrapped around his wrist, gave him pause. "No," she said softly but firmly. "I will go talk to her. Stay with the children." She turned her eyes towards her son, disappointment etched in the turn of her mouth, "You and I will have a conversation later."

She did not speak then as a mother but as a ruler. As a Fire Lord.

The palace grounds were expansive and over the past couple of years, Katara had found a number of nooks and crannies she frequented when she was upset. So much like her element, she found that she could wriggle into any space she wanted, so long as there was an opening. Ursa knew this and set the task to several maids to help her check all the usual spots with the hopes that one of them could coax her to rejoin the party in the study.

Katara was not by the turtle-duck pond, although this came as no surprise since it was pouring outside. She was not wedged between the crates of dragon fruit in the kitchen storeroom. She was not curled up in a ball beneath the stairs in the servants' quarters. And she most certainly was not lodged in the rafters above the dining room (Ursa never could figure out how she managed to climb up there).

No, Katara was hiding out in the open in a rather conspicuous part of the palace. Oddly enough, as the maids scurried about the corridors, desperate to find their honored guest, they past her hiding spot half a dozen times and never once thought to pop their heads around the corner. Ursa nearly made the same mistake and she would have had an oddly shaped shadow not caught her eye. It was there that she found Katara; the child sat between two towering pillars in the corridor, just outside the throne room, with her knees pulled into her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them, staring up at the faces of former fire lords. Ghosts of the past. A nightmare that Ursa realized they both shared.

"How you must hate us." Ursa's words gave the young girl a start but she kept her eyes trained on the likeness before her, the late Fire Lord Ozai. Ursa followed her gaze and stared openly at her former husband. Words she desperately wished to fling at him fell short of her lips. Words like tyrant, coward, and fool. Soon she could not tell if the words were more for him or herself.

It did not matter. The girl could not hear her silent argument with a ghost and kept on glaring at him with unreadable blue eyes.

"I would not blame you if you did hate us. I hate us sometimes, too."

Another stretch of silence. Finally, "I don't hate you, Ursa. Or Iroh."

Ruby lips smiled. "But my children? My people? I suppose you hate them."

"No," Katara decided after another moment. "No, I don't hate them. I just…" She struggled to find the words. How could she verbalize the anger she felt for things she did not fully understand? Or how could she explain that, despite appearances, there were aspects of the Fire Nation that she actually cared about?

At a loss for words, Katara opted to change the subject. "Why do you keep them up there?" She gestured to the former rulers of the nation.

Ursa chuckled mirthlessly. "I suppose we leave them up there because none of us want to face the alternative."

"Huh?"

"Katara, if you forget the past, you run the risk of repeating it. I do not particularly enjoy seeing Ozai's face up on that wall every day, but it serves as a reminder to me that he, and his father and grandfather before him, made an impact on this country. It is my job to remember their example and to learn from it in order to ensure a brighter future for my people. It is a lesson that, regrettably, my son has yet to fully grasp."

"He's a jerk," Katara said, looking down and playing with the hem of her tunic.

"He's a twelve-year-old boy. Of course, he's a jerk." Ursa gently lifted Katara's face up to meet hers. "But what he said to you was insensitive and unacceptable. I do not think he realized the implications of what he was saying. He is a product of his upbringing, as you are of yours, and that is something that I need to fix, not you."

"I don't understand."

A sigh, "Someday you will." Ursa lifted Katara to her feet and tucked a stray hair behind the child's ear affectionately. "Now," she said, "would you like to rejoin us in the study? I'd like to see your strategy for defeating my son in Pai Sho."

Katara smiled but shook her head. "I think I'd rather go to bed now. Is that okay?"

"Of course."

The next day, Prince Zuko found himself standing in his mother's office. She stood at the window with her back to him, gazing into the garden below. It was never a good sign when she would not face him.

"Do you know why I summoned you here?" Her voice was steady, controlled—her authoritative voice, her Fire Lord voice.

"You're angry with me."

Ursa turned away from the window and asked, "Do you know why?"

"Something to do with last night?" Zuko fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest; such a flippant gesture would only fuel her fury.

"What specifically?

"Why do you keep asking me all these stupid questions?"

"Why do you think?"

The question was uncharacteristically sharp. It stung as he stood before his mother, jaw clenched and fists trembling. He met his mother's eyes with defiance. She glared back in a silent standoff.

Finally, she relented. "Zuko, my love, you are too old to be speaking so thoughtlessly."

"I didn't even do anything! Katara was the one who flipped out. I mean, it's just a story—"

"That hit maybe a little too close to home." Ursa gestured for Zuko to sit. He did so with a degree of reluctance; he knew when to be wary of his mother and he did not trust that her temper had cooled quite yet. "Have you ever wondered why Katara has never mentioned her mother?"

No. Why should I care? "No."

"How about why you have only ever met her father?"

Because of some weird Watertribe patriarchy thing? Zuko shook his head.

"It's actually because of our family—your father, in fact."

Zuko visibly shrunk in his seat. How many times had his mother willingly ventured the topic of his dearly departed father to him? He could count on one hand. How many times had those conversations been pleasant? He did not need to count.

"About a year before the war ended, your father gave the order for the Southern Raiders to attack the Southern Watertribe, apprehend any waterbenders, and kill them on sight. Of course, this kind of aggression is nothing new for this family; your grandfather and great-grandfather both made similar decrees."

"So…what? Katara's mom was a waterbender?"

Ursa shook her head. "Katara is the first waterbender to be born in the south in fifty years."

The prince looked out the window. "What does this have to do with last night?" His voice cracked.

"I know Katara seems very young to you. The difference between ten and twelve must seem enormous. But she understands things a child her age should never have to know. Something in that story—possibly a number of things—resonated with her. And you trivialized that. Now, our family knows suffering, but Katara? Her family? They know suffering. So, you are going to go find Katara; you are going to apologize for your thoughtless remarks; and then, you are going to find Sifu-Kuzon and tell him that I would like to have a word."

Ursa took up her pen and shuffled around some papers, very business-like. When Zuko did not move from his seat, she glanced up, eyebrows lifted. "What are you waiting for? Scoot."

He found Katara standing under the moon-peach tree by the turtle-duck pond, swishing an oblong ball of water between her hands. Its shape wobbled, ripples swam in and out of view. But the movement itself was quite good, he supposed. His knowledge of waterbending only stretched so far as whatever she jabbered about during supper. He almost felt bad that he had to interrupt her practice. Almost.

"Hi."

He watched with amusement as she tensed her shoulders. The water stopped flowing and splashed at her feet. "What do you want?" She was still angry, he decided, listening to the sharp tone in her voice. Yet not so angry that he needed to fear her attacking him with her bending. Not that he really would ever need to fear that. But still…

"I just came to apologize. Sorry. I didn't know you took all that stuff so personally. Sorry."

He waited for a moment, curious to see how she would respond, if she would respond. As the moments ticked by without a peep from her, he turned on his heel and made for the main house.

"Zuko?"

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"Do you want to spar?"

His lips twitched. "We both already know who would win."

Me.

Me.

Author Note: Sorry to have taken so long to update. I just lost someone very dear to me and it has taken a while to bounce back. I also rewrote this chapter about a dozen times, so any feedback you have, I will happily take. Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. It means a lot.