The circus kept all sorts of creatures for their menagerie displays. They had a section of leaf-eaters that was a great hit with children; rabaroos and anteater-sloths and adorable panda-moles, all available for petting, and the occasional ride or two on the goat-mules; then there were the hogmonkeys and chimps, and other amusing creatures for sole entertainment purposes, stealing the hats off innocents spectators; and naturally, all circuses had their platypus-bears, elephants, tigers, stag-giraffes, and jackalopes, all with their own routines, paired with performers in such brilliant costumes matched that only a rainbow of exotic birds could compare (which ever circus had, flying free in the main tent). If a circus was extremely lucky, they may even catch prize rarities; a porcupine-boar or sabre-tooth moose-lion was always better than gold, a winning ticket to stardom.

To buy any animal from the circus was nearly unheard of, as everyone knew that obtaining animals for the show was practically as difficult as changing the stars. An animal was only sold, in fact, if it was sick, past use, or incurably wild, and even then a desperate ringleader may still hold on to the beast. The menagerie was the bread and butter of the circus business, since freaks and sideshows only brought in the gruesomely curious, fair-games only got a man so far, and acrobatics were going out of style. It was a touchy business, trying to buy animals off a circus, and no one who knew the business would recommend it.

Zuko, however, did not consider all of this when he accompanied Jeong-Jeong to the circus-grounds that warm, incredibly early morning. He was preoccupied with things he considered a little more important than the inner dealings of the circus-animal business.

Such as the 14 foot, 700 pound black mountain-panther that was chewing dents into the metal bars of its cage.

"...You're fucking kidding me."

The circus grounds were not even fully set up yet, as the first show did not commence for three days. The animals were all still in their carts and cages, fed and watered twice a day by disgruntled shovel-boys (except for the elephants, who had to be led to water, as they drank too much to carry). The stars - male and female, in their fake gold acrobatic outfits, plumed with brightly-colored feathers - were stretching and training off away from the sideshow-men, the massive Fat Lady, the midgets and heroic strong-men in leopard-print. The big top was still laid flat on the dusty earth, striped a glorious red and white that looked ridiculous against the pale yellow and brown of the landscape.

The panther, according to what Jeong-Jeong said, had been in the circus for about three years. Those three years, however, had done nothing to sweeten the mood of the beast. It snarled and snapped at the bars of its cage until its gums bled, red across sickening white teeth. Like a reflection of the circus-tent.

"I didn't have time to find you a wild one. You'll have to make do," Jeong-Jeong walked down into the ring where the cage was positioned, Zuko coming in hesitantly behind him.

"Make do - ?"

The General was never one to warn his soldiers, nor anyone for that matter, of what his next action might be. As it was with this particular occasion, Jeong-Jeong already knew what needed to be done: Zuko had to slay for a skin, for no one in Acchai would respect or fear him without one. The General had practically given his left arm to the circus-folk to obtain the blood-thirsty creature, and the effort this charitable act had taken (though the General would never mention it to Zuko) had caused Jeong-Jeong serious irritation. His main goal now was to get the problem dealt with and to move on to their next stage of action.

This all, of course, meant terrible things for Zuko, as the General's plans often seemed to do.

Jeong-Jeong swung open the cage so abruptly that several circus-travellers were still inside the ring when he did so. The seething creature leapt out, jaw slick with saliva and snapping like a steel trap, eyes blood-shot and yellow as gold, teeth like rows of unsheathed daggers beneath the curled ferocity of its lip. Muscle rippled beneath black fur, ears swung back, tensed as it glared, snarling, around the ring; the circus folk cried out and ran for cover, trying desperately to escape to safety. The ringleader did not even have a moment to scream in fury at the General; the great cat howled and leapt, a streak of black lightning, towards the edge of the ring where he and Zuko stood dumbfounded.

As Zuko dove out of the way, and the panther tensed together to spring on the terrified ringleader, a blazing streak of fire whistled in and exploded between the two. In the same moment the outer edge of the ring seemed to flutter, and catch into red flame; Jeong-Jeong, in bending stance, had silently encased them all in a ring of fire, to force the battle between man and beast.

The ringleader, a firebender like the other two, simply stumbled blubbering away from the growling black wraith before him, bending just enough to throw himself out of the ring of fire. Smoke was collecting in thick bunches in the ceiling of the tent, and performers were screaming and running in terror; one woman, all in shining blue sequins with a large, cerulean feather headdress, stumbled down outside the ring, catching Zuko's eye through the smoke and red flame.

The glitter of blue sequins reminded him, briefly, of the glimmer in Katara's eyes.

"Aja, Zuko!"

Zuko suddenly received an unbearably clear view of the red-streaked coloring of the panther's gums, tucked below icy teeth.

He tried to kick out with his legs, and counter the panther's attack as it bowled him over - but he may as well have been kicking at stone. It's claws were out and blinding beneath the light of red flame, jaw making a metallic click every time teeth came together empty, seeking the soft flesh of the firebender's throat. There was a moment, as Zuko fell, when he lit his finger to flame in a vague attempt to defend himself - but the earth beneath him hit him like a hammer, and as the breathe flew out of his lungs the flame shuddered and died. Without air, Zuko went momentarily limp beneath the writhing mass of fury and fur that had captured him; and then there were teeth in his chest, and he screamed mutely as the blood flowed.

The panther howled as Zuko finally regained breathe, and hot yellow flame shot from his heels into the creature's stomach. Ripping its jaw from Zuko's chest, the panther cried one long, mewlish note, and stumbled back in the direction of the cage. It's underbelly was burned by Zuko's flame, though not dramatically enough to keep it distracted for long. Zuko was on his knees, ripping off his already crimson shirt, buying himself a few more moment by casting a weak wall of flame before him.

There was a foot-long gash in the midst of Zuko's chest, bloody and gory and open to the world, and the sudden impact of it was making Zuko's head spin. The pain had not hit him yet, but it would soon - and then his body would go weak, and he'd be cat-food.

He had to act fast, while the adrenaline was still pumping through him, and the shock was numbing him. With one hand he drew a dual blade, ringing loudly amidst the roar of flame; with the other he pressed his shirt to the open wound on his chest trying to ignore the way his stomach was churning, head rushing. The infuriated panther, looking more the part of the Devil with its bloody fangs and piercing gaze, shuddered its massive body in fury and pain as Zuko stood. With one accord they both seemed to leap for each other, Zuko crying inhumanly against the savage howl of the cat.

It was like running into a wall made of daggers; in a second the shadow of the panther's black coat was everywhere, and there was the sting of claws running down his barren back. Roaring again like a beast, Zuko engulfed his blade in a startling white fire he had never used before; swinging out madly, he only managed to take off a slice from the beast's shoulder. The panther rolled on top of him again, flipping him over so that his hand was crushed into the hilt of blade as it came down to earth. Knowing the panther was a second away from biting his head off, Zuko grappled desperately for the sword. Two of his fingers throbbed as he did so; they were limp and broken.

Cursing as he realized he couldn't grip the sword, Zuko released his hold on his chest and swung a string of flame into the panther's face. The panther snarled and backed off immediately - but not before it's claws had torn parallel rivets into Zuko's back, Zuko still delightfully numb to the pain and the warm trickle of blood. Switching hands, he grabbed the sword with his left and pressed the clothe back to his chest; but he was stumbling in gathering fatigue, and the adrenaline was beginning to fade. His chest throbbed. In a moment, the pain would be upon him.

The panther batted angrily at its nose, and then barred its teeth at the firebender for the last time, as Zuko calculated to final move he needed to make. He was in a sorry state, with the massive gash on his chest and the clawed cuts in his back, the two broken fingers held protectively into his chest. Everywhere there was red, staining skin and clothe and everything else below Zuko's throat, back and front, dripping behind him on the ground in a blood trail. The great black cat's nostrils flared at the scent of it all, and in fury and blood-thirst it sprang towards the wounded firebender, despite the glint of the steel.

Zuko cried out in abrupt pain as he kicked his heel out towards the cat, releasing a brief jet of flame. The panther did not leap aside this time, too driven by the smell of blood, Zuko's face a mask of agony - and all as Zuko had hoped anticipated, as the cat bared it's teeth, and the Dao blade went screaming through its miserable neck.

The panther tried to howl, but its throat was cut so deep that only an unpleasant gargling noise came out. The slash threw the great beast off-balance and it tumbled blindly into Zuko, who managed to roll out from under it by the skin of his teeth. The great beast wobbled up, stumbled around awkwardly, spastically, as the blood drained like a river from its exposed jugular, flowing in puddles on the floor. Zuko did not even try to raise his head to watch the beast's demise; he lay gasping on the ground, hand weak on the wet and red shirt pressed against his chest.

Finally the panther's body convulsed, wracked with spasms, and the creature collapsed. It lay there, twitching, as Jeong-Jeong finally abandoned his post by the cage door, and walked very calmly (albeit slowly) to where Zuko was trembling on the ground, just feet away from the slain beast. Beneath his hands the fires died; still terrified people, lingering at the edges of the tent, stopped in bewilderment as the flames vanished and the smoke ceased.

"Can you move?"

His voice was the steady, mildly ferocious and emotionless tone it always was. Zuko shuddered through a wave of pain - and then suddenly he laughed, face bursting into a strained, sick sort of smile.

"I'm - I'm going to kill you..."

And Jeong-Jeong seemed oddly amused by that statement.

"Bring a healer! And fetch a boy to help me with the body," he was chuckling under his breathe as he did so.

It took only five minutes to locate a healer - circuses often carried one or two, to heal sick animals or people, as there were always accidents in the circus-business - but to Zuko it felt like an eternity. As the firebender waited in steadily growing agony for the healer to come and take him out of his misery, he heard the General speaking with a very angry and red-faced ringleader, cursing in several different language to the stone-faced Jeong-Jeong. It was actually quiet admirable the way the man cussed in Jeong-Jeong's face, before the General finally found it fitting to change the direction of his nose.

Then, as an after-thought, while the waterbending woman was raising Zuko up into sitting position, the General noted:

"By the way - the panther waswild. They caught it this morning."

Zuko took the clothe off his bloody chest as the healer brought water to her hands, too winded and adrenaline-exhausted to say anything besides:

"...Oh, fuck you."

--

By the time Zuko was healed enough to receive some temporary, artificial bandaging from Song, Teo and Jeong-Jeong had already gone to work on the cloak for Zuko. It would be a monstrous mess of a thing, the way Zuko had so wildly slashed open its gullet - but with proper attention it would be one of the most imposing Acchain cloaks ever made. While a mole-bear cloak was by the far the most respected of attire (seeing as mole-bears only lived in the northern wastes in the mountains, and it usually took two dozen hunters to bring one down) most soldiers relented to less imposing creatures for their cloaks - various types of lesser bears, or spined-deer. The panther would be a sign of utmost triumph, and most men would be wary of Zuko before approaching him to fight.

Zuko remained in his tent a long while after Song left him. Because the healer was able to get to the wounds quickly, they had healed up rather nicely; but they were still sore, and there would be a riveting new scar across Zuko's chest the next day. He was lying down on his makeshift bed now, a bundle of furs and blankets, eyes closed as he dreamed of, and wished for, and replayed those few precious moments, back at the docks in Masabi.

He was sliding the blue gem of Katara's necklace between his fingers. Cool and smooth, like he imagined her caramel skin.

She had said nothing when she put it in his hand. No teary "I love you's", or "wait for me's" - just the cool blue surface of the stone, the reminder of sweet lips on his. His mind strayed wonderfully at that thought, into dark places, as he imagined the scene in his head - the first gray of sunrise, sheets tangled, and the living beauty lying beneath him, eyes like the ocean.

Zuko knew he was hers. And he would wait for her. Til the ending of the earth, he knew he would wait for her.

Like you waited for Mai?

Zuko stopped fingering the necklace.

He opened his eyes unsurely, unaware of where that dark thought had come from. It took a moment for him to convince himself that he was feeling guilty - feeling lonely - feeling pitiful after the day's trying events. He attempted to shake off that dreaded comparison.

"No. This is different."

He knew it was different. Katara was different. She was worth waiting for.

But the doubt still followed him, persistent as a shadow.

--

Hakoda was sitting on an outcropping over the path of the Silk Road, where the caravan had stopped for the night. The distant lights of the circus tents had drawn the various civilians in the party, all of them rather unaware as to the bloody events taken place there earlier that day. They would murmur a little at the question of the ringleader's broken nose, but that would be all; then the animals would come out and the circus would begin, and the skinny acrobatic women in their tight outfits would do their flips and jumps, and there would be the laughter of small children in the distance. It was times like this Hakoda thought most of his love, his soul-wife.

He had rarely seen her with their children. She had been of his Tribe, but Fong had laid eyes on her when she was just fifteen; he married her two years later (though even this was considered late in his customs), despite the fact Hakoda had been days away from proposing himself. Hakoda was not Chief then, and Fong was above him, so the arrangement could not be denied. In desperation he gave her his engagement necklace, and vowed to save her. Hakoda's father stopped him from attacking the Lord Fong before he took his bride away, much to Hakoda's anger and despair. It would be many years before he saw her again, but it would be a furious and passionate encounter.

Hakoda tried not to stray back to any heated memories by looking sadly at his unlit pipe. He had stuffed it with a good amount of leaf, but the fire before him was too low to ignite it.

"Need a light?"

Hakoda looked up calmly at Zuko, as the firebender took a seat next to him. Still sore from the days events, it took a stiff, concentrated effort to sit comfortably beside the Chief.

"Yes, thank you," Zuko snapped and let a small flame hover over his thumb, allowing the Chief to light his pipe. The sunset was a deep red this evening, which looked bold and ominous over the bleak landscape, stretching forth into the realm of Acchai. Hakoda always thought it had an odd comparison to the North - the endless wastes, empty but all-consuming.

"I think he's trying to kill me," Zuko broke the silence as he caught sight of Jeong-Jeong, sitting at dinner around his own campfire, as Song served him. Hakoda chuckled, watched the eerily silent General as he devoured the plate of meat and bread Song had set before him. An altogether barbaric sort of man.

"If Jeong-Jeong wanted to kill you, Zuko - you'd be dead."

"Well he's just trying to cause me horribly debilitating pain, then."

Even Hakoda had to laugh at this, and thump Zuko lightly on his back, which wasn't the best thing seeing as Zuko's front was still incredibly sore. In a show of good faith, even, Hakoda handed Zuko the pipe, to take his own drag. Zuko had ever smoked before, but he took the pipe rather confidently, knowing what a friendly action it was. Upon first inhaling, though, he quiet effectively choked and spluttered.

"You'll get used to it," Hakoda smiled, taking the pipe back as Zuko waved it away, still coughing. It was strong smoked-tobacco, probably not the easiest thing to start the firebender off with.

"I think I'll pass," Zuko coughed out the last bits of smoke from his lungs. Hakoda smiled to himself.

"I've gotten you a stallion to ride in place of that mangy ostrich-horse," said Hakoda conversationally, as Zuko leaned forward beside him to look at the sunset. The caravan stretched beneath them as many different-sized dark blobs of carts and wagons and sleeping beasts, hastily-pitched tents and small campfires, the groups of Jeong-Jeong's soldiers that lay riddled randomly through the entire encampment. "It's got a bit of camel in it too, I think - it'll do well in the heat of Acchai."

"Thank you," Zuko consented, and then for a long while there was only silence between the two men, and the distant red glow of the sunset.

It would have been oddly uncomfortably if they knew, moments before, that they had both been thinking of their secret loves - Hakoda of his soul-wife, and Zuko of Katara. Of course, Zuko would not much have cared to know Hakoda was dreaming of his wife. Hakoda, however, would be far more angrily concerned with the wanderings of Zuko's mind. Fortunately, neither of them were mind-readers, and Zuko was more concerned with the sight of the vicious General, far below them.

"Chief - if I may," and Hakoda nodded that he might, and Zuko continued fearlessly. "How did you become such a great leader? I mean, Jeong-Jeong follows every word you say. You're a Chief."

Hakoda grinned at the idea of the General following his every command, but decided against putting doubts in the firebender's head about Jeong-Jeong's loyalties.

"I was born to become a Chieftain," he reminded Zuko. "That was not hard. But for men like me, like Jeong-Jeong, like you - there are only two ways we can establish and keep authority. One is through fear, which is both easy to achieve and to maintain, but inspires no love in those who follow you. The second is through respect - something that could take you a thousand years to earn, and a second to lose. But it will breed closer friends than any despot ever had."

"Is that how you did it?" Hakoda took a long drag from the pipe.

"I find it is most affective to use both."

Zuko should have figured this would be the answer, but this did not lessen his disappointment. Despite the way he had throughly beaten soldiers and civilians alongside Jet in Balda Haram - despite how hard he had fought against bloodbender, Shifter, sandbender, archers, Dai Li, the Guard of the Emperor - despite the ferocious flame that still burned inside him, he was finding it difficult to believe he could inspire fear. Surely he could, if he acted like Jeong-Jeong, like Hakoda. And in the past that may have been easy for him. He admired the barbarian way, since for all its ruthlessness, it was, in essence, a system built on honor and fear and respect, instead of the shabby class-laws in the Union, where cowards ruled over villains.

And yet he felt too weak to fill the purpose Hakoda and the General had set before him. His uncle would have told him that was his strength - that he was not consumed with a self-destroying pride, not blinded by his own ego. But in Acchai it was a weakness. Zuko had to be confident.

"Do you believe you can do this, Zuko?"

"I guess... I don't think it matters if I do."

"It matters to us. And to Acchai. And to the world, for that matter."

"I'm not the Avatar, Chief," and Zuko grinned sadly, remembering Aang.

"And a good thing, too. I don't think Aang would have made a fitting ruler of Acchai, as powerful as he is."

Zuko tried to imagine Aang waging conquest over Acchai - but Avatar or not, Zuko knew there was no possible way Aang could fulfill that destiny. He was not the Acchain type, too kind, too merciful. Acchai would have broken him before long.

"So you think I can do it, then?" Zuko asked the Chief warily. The Chief sighed and put out his pipe.

"I think you should stop worrying about what others think of you. Start believing in your own capabilities."

There was muted sadness in Hakoda's eyes as he looked at Zuko, reminded so vividly of Sokka, his absent son.

"I've noticed the necklace around your wrist, you know."

His words made Zuko's heart stop. For the past few days he had worn Katara's necklace wrapped around his wrist, but it had been hidden slightly beneath his sleeve. He kept it there as a reminder of her, especially when Jeong-Jeong was drilling him particularly hard.

"...It was a gift," Zuko tried, but Hakoda only turned to give him one steely glare, that made even Zuko's hot blood run cold.

"She is a gift. I hope you remember that."

Pipe-smoke drifted past the blinding blue of Hakoda's eyes, eerie in the still evening. Zuko felt his chest tighten uncomfortably, as he remembered the night in the Desert, when he had struggled so desperately against taking Katara to bed. When she had shown him light in the darkness, the despair of his love for Mai.

And here the iron gaze of her father, and he was remembering that night. God dammit.

"I do."

Hakoda's eyes remained on him for one more unbearable moment. Then the Chief huffed, as though he'd decided to let it go for now; then he stood to leave.

"We've announced your Lordship to the caravan," Hakoda stood, putting out his pipe as he did so. "The people will come to you with their quarrels now. And thank you for the light."

He turned to leave, Zuko a little baffled at his words, and half-rising to come after him.

"Quarrels? What quarrels?"

--

The boy was ten years old. Zuko had been around this age when Lu Ten died.

"I bring this boy to you on behalf of a widow named Macmu-Ling. She wants you to deal him punishment," Zuko hated the cold, emotionless way Jeong-Jeong said it.

Macmu-Ling was a ferocious-looking women who had accompanied the boy to his judgment. Her hair was done up in a ridiculous bun that added about a foot to her height, all hung with tassels and ribbons in the most blindingly unattractive way. No inch of her face had escaped the brush of her make-up; her eyelids were a sickening bright blue, her blush like drops of blood, the rest of her so pale with powder it was ghostlike. Her green, satin-lined dress, and the gold chain around her neck, were so unfitting to the terrain and the style of the caravan she looked like a peacock parading amongst sparrows. Zuko immediately disliked her constantly drawn face and those piercing, unforgiving eyes, the way she turned up her nose at both him and the ragged boy.

The ten-year old looked as though he'd been fished out of the bottom of a barrel somewhere. His clothes were old and dirty and far too big for him, fingernails coated in dirt, feet twice as scummy; his messed hair looked like it had things growing in it. When he opened his mouth to speak, it was clear that some of his teeth had been knocked out, and there was a gaping hole between his two front ones.

"What has he done?" Zuko pitied the child. Jeong-Jeong's hand was so firm upon his collar that the boy could barely move, dark eyes like a wildfire, but body still.

"He was caught stealing."

"I didn' do nothin' -!"

The boy was silenced with the General's firm slap on the back of his head. He spat in angry pain and growled, but remained quiet, keeping his eyes to the ground. Zuko waited for the air to settle from the tension, Macmu-Ling's ees fixed upon him.

"Everyone steals from each other, General. You expect me to single him out?"

Zuko understood this concept from his time with the caravan in the desert. Oftentimes, servants of different soldiers would steal from one another, taking from those who had just that much more meat, or more camel feed, or more spice, or more firewood. They were all light-fingered at this, and though everyone knew it happened no one was ever caught, because no one found it necessary to look for the thief. You did what you must to get by in Acchai; and if other servants avoided stealing from you, it was because they were afraid of you - and that was one of the most dependable signs of respect. For example, no servant had ever stolen from Jeong-Jeong.

"It was not spices or wood he stole," the General seemed to read Zuko's mind. "He tried to take the wealth from this woman's neck. A gold chain of her household."

The little boy writhed in Jeong-Jeong's grip and muttered something that sounded vaguely hostile. The General only cast the boy a daggered look, then returned his gaze to Zuko. A bad feeling was creeping into the firebender, making his stomach feel a little sick.

"What would his punishment be?" he almost dreaded asking.

"As a Lord, you would take his hand."

The fire seemed to dim suddenly out of the boy at Jeong-Jeong's words, and his eyes snapped up imploringly towards Zuko. Zuko remained stone-faced; he was not about to betray weakness in the presence of this haughty widow and the General. Yet his hand shook on the hilt of his sword, and fear found its way into his heart.

The vision of a severed hand, of blood pouring from a wrist, of the young boy screaming, screaming -

"Release him for a moment," Zuko had to put forth effort to keep his voice from shaking.

As Jeong-Jeong glared at him, and slowly released the boy, Zuko tried to think of what his uncle would do. The boy was shaking with fear and regret, but the eyes of Macmu-Ling were glowing with fascination and accomplishment. It made Zuko feel abruptly sick, to see the glitter of a smile on that woman's face - and then suddenly he understood, understood completely, what had to be done. Gently, slowly, as though any quick movement would scare the boy off, Zuko bent down from his knees, until he was eye-level with him.

"What is your name, boy?" he asked quietly.

"What do you care?" snarled the boy, but there was so much fear in his eyes the vehemency of the statement was lost. He quailed when Zuko's gave hardened.

"Tell me your name," it was a command this time.

The boy swallowed, unable to keep eye-contact with Zuko for long, distracted by the massive scar encasing the left side of his face.

"Is... Lee. Lee of Tao Lin."

"Listen closely to me, Lee. I'm going to spare you your hand. But in return you will do everything I ask of you. You will be my servant, and I will be your Lord. And if ever I find you steal in this fashion again, or disobey my commands, or betray me in any way, I will relinquish this mercy and cut off your hand. Do you understand?"

The boy looked quizzically but hopefully at the firebender, as though trying to take in what he was saying. His eyes were wide and naive.

"I... I think so."

"You will refer to me as Lord or 'sir' from now on, Lee."

"Yes... yes sir. I understand, sir. Thank you, sir. Lord."

"Good," Zuko went back to standing, and Lee's eyes followed him this time, bright and thankful. "Your first task may be to tend to my steed. It is a stallion, roped somewhere near the General's steed. See it is fed and watered. Afterwards you can go to another servant of ours named Song, and she will give you work to do."

"I - I thank you, sir, yes," Lee gave a weird, halting bow, obviously not accustomed to that sort of thing, and bolted from the scene. Lee was desperate to get out of the General's shadow - but to Zuko amusement, he found it necessary to stick his tongue out defiantly at Macmu-Ling before disappearing behind the side of a cart.

"Sir - sir I demand you give him his proper punishment - !"

"If you wanted his hand so badly, you could have taken it yourself," Zuko snarled at the woman, who's mouth fell agape in surprise. Perhaps a day earlier she would have defied the young firebender's ruling, and told him off - but so imposing and deadly did Zuko look, hardened even by this first week alone with Jeong-Jeong and Hakoda, she dare not raise a complaint.

"You did not bring him to me for punishment," Zuko was realizing it even as he said it. "You brought him to humiliate him. I doubt very much, even, if he ever attempted to rob you. I want you out of my sight."

He waited for her to turn and leave, but Macmu-Ling hesitated - and at this defiance, Zuko felt a rage arise in him such as he had never felt before. The fury of rightful authority being denied.

"Now!" he roared it, drawing his dual blades with such an imposing ring and Macmu-Ling squeaked in fear, turning to bolt from his presence.

The General had not flinched as Zuko's small eruption, nor at the way his sword glinted like fire in the light. Rather his eyebrows had creased together in a way that meant pain, for Zuko, was probably in the near future.

"That was foolish."

Zuko threw his swords into the sheath with such vehemency that they clanged, deafeningly, as he turned to confront the stone-faced, wild-eyed Jeong-Jeong.

"I will do what I must, but I will not hack off a child's hand, General - !"

"Mercy is a weakness in Acchai! Lords like Fong will devour you!"

"I will not exercise the same restraint on men like Fong," Zuko hissed into the General's face. Then he turned and walked away, seething, beneath the General's all-piercing gaze.

--

There were shadows under Jet's eyes.

He was looking out at the ruin that had once been the city of Tabuk. Azula's forces had swept through it like a storm of fire from heaven; all who did not join them were left as corpses in the street, dead bodies hung from burned tree-limbs. Her tactics had become ruthless and cunning ever since Smellerbee and Longshot's escape, since the murder of her captain.

"What are you doing out here?"

Azula's question was asked with less honey, less deceiving potency than she used to use with the disheveled man before her. She had little need of it nowadays; Jet's mind was far gone, swept and drowned in darkness and blood, eyes red-rimed with sleepless nights and the sight of death. She no longer had to persuade him. He was hers.

Yet he did not answer her. He never seemed to answer her, the first time; then again the only time she asked him any questions was when they were alone together, and the memories of that first night in the bottom cellars of the Abbey came flooding back. With other people around, Azula would perhaps send him a glance, or hiss the faintest order; but Jet could read her almost as well as she read him, and instead he was the quiet instrument of her will, the silent dagger at her side.

At the moment, however, his silence irritated her. Walking across the ruined balcony in that fluid, graceful, deadly way she had, Azula positioned himself close to his side. Jet did not move, nor give any notice of her presence beside him.

"Look at me, my warrior."

There was only a half-second of refusal on Jet's end nowadays; Azula had only to wait, patiently, for that glimpse in time before he obeyed her. And every time that black-eyed, shadowed man with the broken mind and murderous intent turned towards her, the rush of power and pleasure was overwhelming. As ravished as Jet had been with her devilry and beauty and her cunning, treacherous, bloody promises, moreso was she with his own raw capabilities. The drive and savagery of his nature astounded her; and in her need to overpower him, she found primal satisfaction.

Her crimson lips were tracing the edges of his mouth, a kiss full of lies. Jet shuddered, but could no longer recall why he did so. Forgotten why he loathed her so much.

"Have I not given you everything you wanted?" Azula purred.

"Yes."

Jet snarled against her, but she persuaded him to softer tones. Put a hand to his cheek, turned his head so he could look straight into the deceitful purity of her golden eyes.

"And do you love me?"

He knew what she wanted him to say. He did not have enough grasp on his own mind anymore, however, to know whether or not he agreed with it.

"...Yes."

Like proclaiming his own doom.

"And would you do anything for me?"

Azula had no interest in doom. Only in destiny.

"Yes."

"Then I need you to tell me," she lowered his lips to kiss the secret place below is jaw, and he groaned into her. Her whispers spread cold, hateful fire across his skin. "Have you heard anything from my brother?"

Jet's hands had found there way to Azula's waist, but at her words he paused his exploration. The mention of Zuko made a faint, distant light pierce his clouded mind. But it was not enough to overcome the darkness that now filled him, and the shadows consumed it almost as swiftly as it came.

"No," Jet wasn't looking at Azula again; he was looking past her, confused, unsure. "Why... why do you care about that?"

"I've told you once before," and now she was thoroughly distracting him, as she slid her hands low across his belt-line, and deepened the intensity of her kisses in his neck. "It's not about him. It's about Acchai. We'll just remind him where his loyalties lie."

Jet kissed her, hungrily, angrily. Doubt clouded his mind, but he couldn't remember why he doubted. Something about Zuko... about Acchai. Something about the truth.

But he couldn't grasp it. Bright, gold eyes and pale skin. Endless black hair. A twisted, wicked sort of smile, and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Fire in the distance. Fate's eyes watching sadly amidst red flame. Bodies swinging in the breeze.

Lips like honey-flavored venom.

Mai was sharpening her daggers as they paused for the night, before moving on the next morning across the Shi River. She worked emotionlessly and studiously, as she always did; with perfect calculation she slid the small blades across the stone, a shrill and satisfying ring each time she did so.

The room was dark, and her back was to the doorway. She could not possibly see Zhanu as he stood there, looming, devouring her frame with his eyes. He was on the hunter's path, and he was rushed with desire. Mai must have felt his gaze there, so strong-willed and terrible.

"Are you just going to stare at me all night?"

A very unpleasant grin spread across his face. Her monotone voice was uncharacteristically arousing to him; so emotionless was she, that he wanted nothing more than to inspire her with unwilling feeling, whatever feeling it may be - love, hate, fear. She was the challenge he could seek his entire life and never grow tired of. And when he finally broke her, finally made her scream, in pleasure or in pain, he would be filled.

"...I certainly hope not."

He pressed his lips to her perfectly pale neck, brushed a few locks of her black hair aside. She stiffened, unused to the feeling of lips against her skin.

"...I'm not in the mood for this, Zhanu."

She pushed away from him in a passive, unconcerned way, and crossed the room to where an array of her weapons were lain out, half of them sharpened, half of them dull. Some still had a bloodstain or two on them; it was these she rose into the light to examine, to wipe away the marks with her black clothe. Zhanu followed her, eyes still full of the hunt, blood pumping fiercely.

"You're never in the mood for much. But I like it."

He kissed her neck again, confidently this time. She paused, looked as though she would deny him; but his arm had snaked around her waist, and he was pulling her into him. She hesitated; the feeling of his body behind her was a little intoxicating, the brilliantly sensual way his lips massaged her flesh. She hesitated, and he knew she hesitated.

His hands slid across her stomach, then briefly upwards, just below her breast. He did not, however, attempt to grasp them; rather he deepened the kisses in her neck, bit gently down on the edge of her shoulder, and she was still hesitating, still unsure of what to do. He took advantage of her uncertainty - and slid his hands down over her stomach, lower, and lower, down desperately into the secrets between her smooth, endless legs.

"Zhanu!"

It was the first time he'd heard any passion in her voice; but in a moment she was calm again, away from him, facing him. There was only the faintest look of discomfort in her eyes, a brief pink flush to her cheeks.

"I must get back to work, if you please."

Her voice was uneven, and Zhanu heard it. He retreated slowly, triumphantly from her, face glowing with victory.

"You do want it, Mai," and there was terrible truth to his words, a confidence in his eye. "...And I will have you."

He left grinning, ready to resume the hunt tomorrow.

Mai stared at the doorway long after he had gone. Her eyes were unreadable.

--

"Are you the Lord Zuko?"

Zuko was eating breakfast when the man approached him. He was not in full armor yet, as Hakoda had not yet been able to obtain some for him. Styled roughly in the fashion of Jeong-Jeong's, he had only his leg paddings and plates, and without upper-body armor he looked all the more vulnerable with a bared chest.

The man who addressed him, however, was in full armor - ancient armor, it seemed, an obviously poor soldier - but armor nonetheless. Two other men stood beyond him; one man was taller and larger than any warrior Zuko had ever seen, a literal tank of a man, looking like he could uproot a mountain. The other was old and gray-haired, and seemed half-blind, the way he held onto the previous man's massive bicep.

Zuko stopped chewing his food to examine the first man. Lee was beside him, grinning his gape-toothed grin with such confidence that even Zuko felt a little less worried by the presence of these three strange men. Jeong-Jeong, however, stood instantly, and Hakoda put his plate aside. Song stepped away obediently at the General's command.

"I am," Zuko had never been called Lord until this point, and it made him feel unpleasantly powerful.

"My brother tells me you spared him the thief's punishment," the man had a longsword at his side, which Zuko noticed casually. Feeling as though this visit had an equal chance of heralding good or bad tidings, he decided not to stand, though he answered the man's questions honestly.

"His punishment is to serve me in my endeavor. I spared him his hand in exchange for this."

The man nodded, cast a glance at his brother. Lee beamed first at him, and then at Zuko; and Zuko couldn't help but smile at the boy's growing adoration for him.

"Then I thank you. My brother is no thief - but still, I thank you. Few people have shown our family such kindness."

Zuko nodded as the man bowed to him, but was surprised to find he did not immediately go away. A few moment passed in uncomfortable silence; the man, no older than Zuko himself, seemed unsure of what to say next. It was Hakoda, with more understanding of his fellow man than either Jeong-Jeong or Zuko, that finally spoke to the uncertain soldier.

"Is that all you came to say?"

"N - No," the ma seemed very grateful for Hakoda's intervention, then turned back to address Zuko. "My Lord - my companion and I would be honored to serve the one who showed mercy upon my blood. I have tried to serve two Lords of Acchai already, and neither of them I found as befitting of respect."

"Really?" this was something no one had expected. Even Jeong-Jeong raised his eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"One of them sold his son into slavery for gold," the brother of Lee consented, his face hardened. "The other killed our mother, Sela."

Zuko felt his heart rush in the direction of his mother, and suddenly felt an odd bond with the two brothers. Lee was still looking hopefully between the two of them as the Lord of Agni stood, face darkened with honest sorrow at the man's words.

"I'm sorry. What are your names?"

Zuko's question seemed to make all the shadow go out of the man's face, brightened at the prospect of the Lord's approval.

"I am Sen Su, Lee's brother. This is Kouki, but we call him Pipsqueak."

"And who is the old man behind you?"

"My father, Gow. He is a great blacksmith. We'd hope he could serve you."

"Blacksmith?" Hakoda asked abruptly, crossing is arms as he examined the old man. "Do you make armor?"

"Such armor as is unequaled in Acchai, my Lord," Gow proclaimed, though he could not quite look at Hakoda as he said, blind with age. Pipsqueak smiled fondly at the old man's declaration, though he himself said nothing. Zuko examined them all for a moment, trying not to look ecstatic at the though these men, of their own free will, had decided to serve beneath him.

"Song? Song!"

Song came bustling back from the fire and their brekfast to tend to her Zuko, who had replaced Fong as her master. Song much preferred this firebender over the Lord of Al-Abhad, not only because he was friends with Hakoda and her long-time companions Toph and Katara, but because there was a certain intriguing aspect to his character that delighted her. Zuko had no knowledge of her infatuation with him, however, and though he treated her civilly, she was still a servant. Jeong-Jeong had made sure that Zuko have a least this appearance of a Lord in regards to his behavior around Song.

"These men are to be soldiers beneath me. See to it they are outfitted equal to Jeong-Jeong's men. But first, take the older man, Gow, and bring him what supplies he asks for. He will be making my armor. Lee - you can accompany them, too."

"Yes, me Lord," Song nodded, and took Gow's aged hand, leading him from the group, with Lee smiling at their heels.

As the two bustled away together, an awkward moment passed with Pipsqueak and Sen Su facing the Lord, the General, and the Chief. Then Zuko finally gestured for them to take breakfast, as Song had made quite a feast for them anyway. Sen Su bowed and agreed, and then sat fearlessly and eagerly beside the firebender, which impressed him immensely. As they gathered their own bowls and began spooning rice from the pot, Hakoda and Jeong-Jeong returned to some previous conversation they were having, bout the most effective way of killing a mole-bear. This conversation had not involved Zuko, who sat in silence beside an overeager Sen Su.

"Who is the woman?" everyone could tell that Sen Su was just trying to strike up conversation, but Zuko didn't understand right away.

"What?"

Sen Su gestured towards the necklace Zuko had wrapped tight around his wrist. Hakoda glared intensely at the firebender over his breakfast as Zuko ran his fingers across the gem, and Zuko felt his gaze more intense than he felt the sunrise.

"A gift..."

--

BTW: An average tiger can reach up to 13 ft. and 660 pounds.

Oh, bother. But whatever are Katara and Aang and Toph and Sokka and Suki up too? What a mouthful.

Sen Su and Zuko BFF