Hi everyone! First, let me wish you all a happy new year !

I would like to thanks jujubi for his/her nice comment. Don't worry, I'm still willing to continue! Since I'm obsessed with this story, I'm not going to give up. Your support is still appreciated, though!

For those who want more of "Black Sun", you can go to AO3 and find in my profile some artworks I made for "Black Sun" or just on the zucest theme. And for this chapter 22, a portrait of Taïma :) !

Nice reading! And please, leave a review!

Also, thanks to my beta-reader, as always!

Chapter 22 - Blood and Tears

As soon as she crossed the threshold of Taïma's door, Mai unceremoniously grabbed the arm of Ty Lee, and dragged her away, without worrying about Sokka who shouted loudly to know where they were going.

Too upset to protest, Ty Lee didn't give any resistance. Her desperate sobs echoed between the marble columns to Mai's great exasperation. The Fire Lady closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lip to hold back the harsh rebuke burning on her tongue.

Firming her grip, she lifted the edge of a tapestry behind which a narrow corridor led to a small secret door. Mai opened it by inserting a large blood-red stone that adorned the ring she wore on her right middle finger into a lock. She pushed Ty Lee into a small room with roughly hewn walls whose sole function apparently was to allow its occupants to exchange information away from prying eyes.

Mai had made sure to have several similar rooms dug in the palace's different wings. This one was Wu's work. Using his earthbending skills to perfect her network had been one of her most ingenious ideas. No one but Mai and her spies knew all the passages and secret rooms the palace concealed.

Ty Lee had stopped sobbing. Sniffing shamelessly, she wiped her eyes as she curiously looked at this strange place.

"Mai," she managed to stammer between sniffles, "Where are we?"

"Tell me everything you know!" Mai cut her off sharply, arms crossed over her narrow chest. "I want to know what happened."

"I-I don't know where to start. I..."

And she burst into tears again. In the height of exasperation, Mai groped in her pocket the blade of her favorite shuriken, the one she always wore on her. The comforting touch of its sharp tip helped Mai regain her selfcontrol.

"Start at the beginning," she told her in a softer voice. "Why are you still in the Fire Nation? Zuko banished you from it. And why were you hanging around the prison at such a late hour?"

Arms around her shoulders as if to protect herself from an attack, Ty Lee looked down to the ground. Phlegmatically Mai stared at the tears tracing furrows down Ty Lee's cheeks, finishing their race towards the hardly lit ground.

Resisting the urge to shake her sharply, Mai took a deep breath and spoke again in the most patient tone she could:

"Come on, Ty Lee. If you know something, you have to tell me. I'll protect you from Zuko's anger if that's what scares you. We'll find an excuse to explain your presence here while he has banished you."

"That's not it," Ty Lee interrupted in a small, choked voice. "I don't care what Zu-Zuko can do to me. I… Oh, poor Azula!"

And she fell to her knees, shouting her friend's name over and over again. Mai couldn't stop her heart from contracting painfully.

She knew very well that the last few years had kept them apart. The geographical distance, the demanding duties of Fire Lady, the inconceivable devotion of Ty Lee to Azula… Mai did not have many close friends. You could not call that the ladies companions who constantly surrounded her and followed her like little dogs, wherever she went. Neither Katara, Toph and Suki who were only there a few weeks a year, whom she certainly enjoyed, but with whom she could not feel comfortable. There wasn't that little spark in them, that quiet certainty she felt when she once traveled with Ty Lee and Azula.

Sometimes it seemed to Mai that her relationship with Ty Lee had started to deteriorate the very day she had saved her from Azula's murderous rage, as if a balance had been broken. Ty Lee's good humor and naivety once allowed Mai and the Princess to overcome their dark side, their rivalry, the natural distrust they felt for each other. But without Azula, Ty Lee's exuberance and sometimes childish reactions had grown downright maddening over the years.

That was all Azula! Even from afar, she managed to soil everything. And finally, she was the one Ty Lee had chosen. Her throat tightened with jealousy. The feeling that crept into her had made Mai her favorite hostess lately.

Azula had taken everything from her: her husband, her only friend. Soon, if she survived, she would also steal her throne.

This manipulative bitch would find a way to convince her jerk of a brother to repudiate his wife, to marry her instead of Mai, to make her his new Fire Lady. And this, in spite of all the laws. She would soon carry him the son she herself had failed to give him. Tears in her eyes, Mai put a hand on her hopelessly flat stomach and let it rest there for a moment.

Don't be stupid! You're rambling! a voice hissed in her head. A voice who had her mother's inflections. The realization didn't really help.

Mai struggled to reason with herself and forced her mind to return to present. At her feet, poor Ty Lee was still crying, her shoulders shaking with irrepressible tremors. Mai dropped to her knees in front of her and put a comforting hand on her arm.

"Tell me Ty Lee. Your story can be helpful in finding out what happened. If anyone has hurt this bi… if someone has hurt Azula."

Hearing Mai call the princess by her name seemed to give Ty Lee the courage she needed. It had probably not escaped her that the Fire Lady had come to feel a violent revulsion at the mere thought of uttering this word, as if it had been struck by some curse. To name this crazy little slut was already doing her too great an honor.

Ty Lee squirmed on her knees and finally sat down against the wall. She wiped away her tears, let out a few gasps, drew a pink tissue from her pocket, and blew her nose loudly. Mai waited patiently and finally listen to the story the acrobat gave her in a hesitantly.

Mai tried to keep a fearless face throughout Ty Lee's tale. It was harder to hide her confusion when Ty Lee spoke of the strange figure she had seen along the prison wall. The one that seemed to have inexplicably disappeared into the rock. If Mai flinched a bit at this description, Ty Lee was too upset to notice. The tears and sobs that regularly punctuated her sentences no doubt made her story a little inconsistent and difficult to follow, but eventually Mai decided she had the information she needed. She didn't ask Ty Lee what she intended to do once she got to Azula's cell. It didn't matter anymore, not really.

After a while, Mai got up, ready to exit but, remembering her good manners, she extended a hand to Ty Lee who took it hesitantly. Mai pulled her towards her to help her friend up.

"Thanks Ty. Go find the others now. Just slam the door behind you on your way out and make sure no one sees you exit. I'm sure Azula will be happy to see you by her bedside when she wakes up," she added. Her voice was soft but the tone probably a little too harsh.

Ty Lee looked up at her with two large, incredulous gray eyes. Mai looked away and without answering her friend who asked her where she was going, she promptly left the small hidden room.

She paced the hallway until she reached a corridor leading to another wing of the palace. There, at a sufficient distance from ears and prying eyes, she allowed herself to remove her usual mask of impassivity. Anger and fear rolled over her like icy water, forcing her to clench her fists and teeth.

Had Wu lost his mind? What had prompted him to release Azula from prison? Nothing in the mission she had entrusted to him should have led him to such a risky action! Was May surrounded only by incompetent people?

Betrayal! happily mocked an amused voice in her head. This time, it was not her mother's, but Azula's evil and mischievous one.

"Argh! Shut up!" Mai shouted before she could help herself.

She immediately put a hand over her mouth. Was she going to start answering the voices in her head, too? No, the nation had enough with one crazy princess!

Mai wouldn't let that whore get into her mind and cloud her sanity. She had to keep her head on her shoulders.

She felt the same awful anguish that had not left her since nightfall, the moment she had realized that Wu would not come anymore. She had waited for him in vain, for hours, until she lost patience. Then she had left the secret room where they were supposed to meet near the kitchens. She had come face to face with a completely disheveled General Kadao. The brave man, haggard eyes, was hurrying behind one of his soldiers, buckling up the belt he had not had time to close when he had been suddenly pulled out of bed. Curiosity getting the better of her, her stomach twisted by an instinctive terror, Mai had followed them to the great hall where there was a terrible commotion. There, a small crowd had formed near a man dressed in the uniform of the Coast Guard who held in his arms an inanimate body. Ty Lee was there too. Mai froze when she saw her and returned her attention to the woman the Coast Guard held in his arms.

The conviction of having triggered something greater than her gripped Mai the instant her silver eyes fell on Azula's pale face, whose head hung back miserably, a cascade of black, matted hair flowing towards the ground. It was like putting your finger in the cogs of a machine that got out of hand. It would drive Zuko crazy. Would really her miserable desire for revenge destroy her marriage for good and put the whole nation in jeopardy?

She needed to find her idiot spy before he did any more damage.

Please! As if you have the slightest chance of finding him. He's a former Dai Li agent. Where do you think he's been? Cunning as he is, do you think you have any chance of getting your hands on him? By now, he must have already taken refuge in Lu Fang's skirts!

This time Mai didn't try to silence the unpleasant voice that addressed her in a tone full of unbearable satisfaction. What was the point of denying what was obvious? Wu had deceived her like he had deceived everyone.

Soon Lu Fang would know the full extent of the royal family's perversion, its most appalling secrets, Mai's plots, her intimate wounds.

Lu Fang would not miss an opportunity to sow confusion and discord in the Fire Nation. Sooner or later Mai's shenanigans would reach Zuko's ears.

Zuko... Was it even possible that he was the one who...

After all, she had barely been able to say two words to her husband in the past few days. No one had seen him. He had had all the time he needed to organize this escape. However, seeing Zuko's reaction earlier, Mai could say that if such a plan had ever existed, the failure was huge!

It doesn't matter. Both possibilities were equally frightening and would cost her everything she had.

There was always a chance Azula wouldn't survive. And then everything would remain hidden. Everyone would wonder for a while about the circumstances of this tragedy which had cost the life of the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. Then people would forget… That would resolve many tensions. Zuko would need her to solace. They could hand over the reins of the nation to Iroh for a while, since he was back, and go on a trip, long enough to rebuild everything. Given Zuko's popularity and involvement in recent weeks, there was little risk in temporarily entrusting the former General with power.

But if Azula survived - of course she would! She was Azula, right? - when the fateful hour to make a choice comes, who do you think this traitor you have had the misfortune to marry, will choose?

Mai thought back to the way Zuko had buried his face in Azula's neck earlier when he discovered her broken body. And she couldn't do anything against the sob that crossed her lips.

She couldn't stay a second longer in that hornet's nest. Trying to stop Wu would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Suddenly she thought of her father, her mother and Tom-Tom. She also couldn't let her family pay for her own mistakes.

Everyone at the palace had their eyes on the princess who was struggling somewhere between life and death. The opportunity was to be seized.

Mai angrily wiped her tears away and resumed her path.

She gradually accelerated her pace until she reached her deserted room. The sentries came to attention when they saw her arrive. She ignored them superbly.

It only took a few minutes for her to gather her belongings. Not too much so that they don't notice her disappearance too soon. Her favorite blades, some travel clothes, a first aid kit, a gold purse stored in a safe. She hesitated in front of a portrait depicting them, Zuko and her. Finally, she took it out of its frame, folded it and stuck it into her pocket.

She glanced one last time at the bed where she had offered herself so many times to him. Mai walked towards the tapestry concealing the secret passage that led to the underground passages. After brief hesitation, she lifted it and disappeared.

First, nothing happened. Then everyone screamed in horror as the princess's body was briefly lifted off the mattress, traversed by a terrible spasm.

Zuko screamed louder than the others and Iroh had to rush at his nephew to prevent him from pouncing on his sister's body.

The latter regained its stillness and calm gradually returned to the room. Katara was out of breath, looking stunned, as if she had just run a long distance and reached the finish line to find that she had won the race.

"It's working!" Iroh hissed in disbelief.

The old man had never doubted the abilities of Katara who was arguably one of the greatest waterbenders he had known besides Pakku. Yet what she had just accomplished was a feat.

Contrary to what Hama believed, the mad old woman who claimed to have invented bloodbending, this gift had already existed for centuries. Testimonies mentioned it in old texts that Iroh had unearthed in Ba Sing Se's library archives and even in the Fire Sages Temple old dusty parchments that no one read anymore were kept.

But never in his readings had he found a text telling about a master using this ability outside of the full moon.

During his long life, Iroh had seen many extraordinary things. Men capable of firebending with a simple thought, earthbenders able to transform the ground into a carpet of lava. Or even an eleven-year-old girl who generated flames so hot that her fire turned blue.

While Iroh was lost in his thoughts, Taïma had approached Azula and put her ear to her chest.

"I'm hearing something, very weak. But it's there."

Zuko escaped his uncle's hold and approached the bed. Before anyone could hold him back, he forced Taima to retreat and in turn rested his ear against Azula's heart.

Iroh couldn't say why this gesture, probably natural, seemed so inappropriate to him at this moment. He accidentally met Taïma's gaze and guessed that she was watching his reaction. Iroh tried to keep a straight face but clenched his fist in his pocket. His hand touched the crumpled poster still hiding there and he winced.

Zuko released his sister and stepped back towards his uncle without taking his eyes off her. When he reached Iroh's height, the latter immediately grabbed his nephew's arm.

"Start over," Zuko ordered Katara. Iroh didn't like the imperious tone his nephew used to address his friend.

Katara raised her arms above her head again, executed a series of slow, complex circular motions, and lowered them sharply.

The same sense of horror, mixed with fascination, seized Iroh as he saw his niece's dislocated form arch and twist as the blood rushed through her veins again, flooding her body, animating it with a new life, returning it its colors.

The scene was almost unbearable. One hand clasped to his mouth, the other clutching his nephew's wrist, Iroh had to fight the feeling of nausea that washed over him. By his side, he heard Zuko shout his sister's name, desperation by the horrific spectacle Katara was imposing on them evident in his voice.

Suddenly, to everyone's shock, Azula opened her eyes. They were bloodshot, her amber-colored irises looked almost red, and the glow of the surrounding flames danced in her night-black pupils. Like the survivor of a drowning who finally returns to the surface, she suddenly inhaled a great breath. Her bust straightened and she found herself almost in a sitting position. Then her body sagged again and fell back, her head hitting hard against the headboard of the bed.

She looked like a puppet that a sadistic child tired of his toy, was smashing against the walls.

"Azula!" Zuko yelled, rushing towards her again to ward off her fall. "Stop Katara! You're hurting her!"

"Don't come near!" Katara warned, throwing one arm back, while controlling Azula with the other.

From where he stood, Iroh could almost hear Azula's blood boiling furiously, surging and ebbing like a raging sea. Iroh feared to see it burst from her veins with the violence of a volcanic eruption. He imagined the thick, scarlet liquid seeping into his niece's organs, filling them, making them explode.

"Katara! Stop! You can see it's harming her now!" Taïma yelled too.

But Katara, brow furrowed, face closed, remained deaf to this plea. Azula's damaged body convulsed at irregular intervals, as if animated by a life that did not belong to her. Sometimes her eyelids lifted and revealed a wide and terrified eye, rimmed with blood.

A horrible thought crossed Iroh's mind. Was his niece in pain? Was she conscious?

Suddenly, Azula's bust straightened again, her eyes opening to focus somewhere on the ceiling. With an appalling moan, Azula unconsciously put a hand on her throat and squeezed it around her neck.

Zuko rushed to her and forcefully pulled the hand that wouldn't let go. He was screaming and tears of terror were cascading from his eyes.

Bewildered, Iroh watched the show. He gave Katara another helpless look and his heart missed a beat. A fierce and icy hatred spread over the usually lovely face of the young waterbender. He noticed her clenched fist, the other hand, palm open, pointed towards Azula. For the first time since he had known her, Iroh thought she was scary.

Taïma came to assist Zuko and at together they pulled on Azula's wrist. The princess was deprived of air, her face was already turning blue. But her hand, like a vice, refused to let go.

Iroh decided to intervene. Approaching Katara, he gently put both hands on her shoulders.

"It's over now. You can stop," he whispered behind her back in a benevolent voice.

Katara lowered her arms and turned to him. He read the astonishment in her large sapphire eyes before she brought them to the scene of chaos in front of her. It was as if she was suddenly emerging from a trance.

Azula was lying on the bed again, inert, obviously unconscious. The hand that had gripped her neck so firmly a few seconds earlier was resting limply in Zuko's. Purplish marks around her neck had added to the bruises adorning her face. Taïma held her other arm in search of her pulse, intense focus imprinted on her dark-skinned face.

A heavy silence fell, only interrupted by Katara's heavy breathing, and the sound of the lips that Zuko regularly pressed to his sister's forehead.

"Come back Azula, come back to me," he breathed between two kisses.

"I"m feeling something!" Taïma suddenly shouted. "Her heart is beating again!"

"Really?" Zuko asked in the same excited tone. And he rested his ear on Azula's chest again, one of his hands resting on her stomach. A big smile of relief lit his face ravaged by worry, grief and tears. He covered Azula's face with kisses and whispered inaudible words to her.

Beside Iroh, Katara, visibly upset, was turning her head right and left, her panic-stricken gaze seeming to ask for support. He took pity on her.

"We should go out and get some fresh air for a while. Let's give them some privacy," he whispered in a soft but firm voice.

Without saying a word, completely dazed, Katara let herself be guided out of the room.

Iroh glanced one last time over his shoulder: Taïma was placing a mask connected to a spirophore over Azula's mouth. His nephew was cautiously stretching out on the bed and Iroh saw him wrap his arms around his sister's sorely afflicted body.

As soon as she exited the room, Katara wanted to leave. She wanted to join Aang right away. Never had she felt so much the need to talk to him.

But that was without counting on the welcoming committee waiting for them behind the door. Sokka, Suki and Kadao immediately wanted to know if she had succeeded in reviving Azula.

Katara was unable to answer them and burning tears came to her eyes as they assailed her with pressing questions.

Finally, it was Iroh who came to rescue her from them. He put two comforting hands on her shoulders and answered their questions.

Yes, Azula had started to breathe again. Will she survive? Hard to tell.

"Katara," Sokka said, rushing to his sister, "did you succeed? Have you bent blood even if there isn't a full moon?"

"I guess," she replied evasively.

Katara didn't think she'd ever felt the urge to run away from a conversation so much. Her friends and her brother didn't seem to notice as they started talking all together, asking her and Iroh for more details.

"How was it?" Sokka inquired, the flames of the torches lined up against the wall casting their glowing reflection in his eyes. "Did it hurt her?"

Katara felt in that simple, seemingly innocent question a hint of hope that capsized her stomach. And she recognized in her brother's eager gaze a bit of the murderous hatred that had animated her earlier in the room where Azula was lying.

Seeking help, she turned and fell on Iroh's gentle face. The old man gave her a smile that – she couldn't help but notice – did not reach his eyes. For the first time, she realized that they had the exact same amber shade as Azula's. Her throat tightened.

Again, Iroh spared her the trouble of answering:

"Obviously, it was not the most pleasant spectacle. But our dear Katara was extraordinary and if Azula survives, it will be thanks to her efforts and her incredible skills."

The tone was pleasant but adamant. Sokka fell silent, a little disappointed and deeply frustrated from what Katara could see, and he looked down at the ground. Suki took his arm and squeezed her hand around his wrist.

"I think it's time for Katara to take some rest. This healing session must have been trying for her too. No, no, Sokka, don't worry, I'll take care of walking her to her apartments. You and Suki should go get some rest. We have been on a long trip and you need to get some sleep."

He turned to Kadao, strangely silent since the beginning of this exchange but who straightened up, ready to serve. "General, would you be so kind as to accompany our friends to their apartments?"

"Of course, General Iroh."

"Iroh, that's fine," the old man corrected him with a smile which this time narrowed his eyes. Dozens of small wrinkles formed at the corner of his eyes and Katara suddenly felt an immense fatigue surge through her, as if the years separating her from Iroh's age were suddenly falling on her, overwhelming her with the weight of age.

She also thought of Mabouba, whom she and Sokka had left so weak there, in the South.

The urge to leave everything and let Zuko deal with his problems alone came over her again, but this time, grief and discouragement had replaced anger.

"Come on, my dear," Iroh encouraged her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Katara let herself be drawn away, too exhausted to worry about the uncomfortable conversation that awaited her.

No doubt Iroh had understood what had happened in the dismal room earlier, when Azula had started to choke herself with her own hands.

Katara hadn't planned it, she hadn't wanted this. She remembered how she had suddenly felt filled with a great power, which was beyond her. With the assurance that anything was possible. She had known, from the moment the hopelessly inert body began to react, that she could save Azula. She also knew that one more gesture could kill her or cause irreversible damage to her body. This too perfect body that was making Zuko lose his mind. Katara had understood that she had the greatest of powers: the power to choose.

She had succeeded. She was able to control the blood even though it wasn't a full moon! Hama herself had never been able to accomplish such a feat!

For a moment, she had thought about the unexpected opportunity this situation presented for the Fire Nation. For the entire world. The specter of a new war that had hung over them for weeks would finally recede. Only Zuko and his grief would be left. Was that too high a price to pay?

Katara resisted the urge to dig her fingernails into her flesh, as Azula did when she wanted to punish herself. Was she better than Hama? What if what Katara and her friends had taken to be madness in this old witch, wasn't? What if it was exactly the same force that had darkened Katara's heart minutes earlier and clouded her mind?

It's bloodbending, Katara thought to herself. This gift was too powerful, too dangerous. Anyone who was invested with it was at risk of losing themselves. She wondered if this was how Aang had felt, at only thirteen years old, when he had taken his bending from Ozai. She understood a little better then why he had been so reluctant to subject Azula to the same fate when Zuko had asked him the question five years before, after the comet had passed. And again, a few days earlier, when the Sages had begged him to reconsider the matter. Aang had been adamant. Katara should imbibe his example, show an equally fierce will to refuse to do wrong.

It wasn't for her to decide the fate of the world. This was the Avatar's role.

Iroh walked ahead and she followed him down the maze of hallways that brought her back to the apartments she shared with her fiancé. She hoped with all her heart that he would be there, waiting for her. The old man was strangely silent and they didn't exchange a word until they were outside the bedroom door.

He opened his mouth to speak but Katara preceded him:

"Thank you for taking me home. I… Let me know if Azula..."

"Of course, I will" Iroh replied, bowing, both arms concealed in the wide sleeves of his olive robe.

"Iroh, listen, I ..."

But he interrupted her.

"Get a proper rest Katara. I suggest that we meet again tomorrow with a good teacup to share the last news. Maybe Aang and dear Toph can join us?"

And Katara felt a deep fondness for the old man, somewhere in her chest. He was giving her a chance. He was forgiving her.

After all, Azula had almost taken her nephew from Katara. Did Iroh consider that they were quit?

Katara wondered, probably not for the last time, how Iroh really felt about Azula. She had sometimes felt a little uneasy thinking about all he had done for his nephew while his niece was under the influence of her megalomaniac father. She struggled a little not to let the unpleasant word - neglect - reach the conscious realm of her brain. And besides, after what she had just done, who was she to give lessons to anyone?

She managed to wince a small smile and walked into her room then closed the door behind her, not looking at Iroh who, she knew, would stay a few seconds in front of the large metal panels, silent, his mind filled with thoughts that Katara hoped she would never know.

Dawn was struggling to break through the thick barrier of black clouds that had gathered above the palace during the night. Strong winds had shaken the windowpanes all night long, making Taïma fear that a gust would break the windows and rush into the room, shattering the small glass bottles she had carefully placed on the small metal shelf next to the bed where Azula was lying.

On the other side of the bed, in a large armchair that Taïma had insisted on placing here, Zuko had finally fallen asleep. But his sleep was restless. The healer wondered once again if it would not be wise to take advantage of his unconsciousness to inject him with soporific.

It had been difficult for her to work calmly with Zuko next to her, who panicked whenever Azula's vitals showed signs of weakness.

Taïma wiped her forehead, exhausted. The storm outside had done nothing against the stifling heat which continued to strangle the whole country.

More than once during that fateful night, they thought they were going to lose Azula. Torn between the anguish and the exasperation inspired by Zuko, who got up and paced the room shouting incoherent orders at her, Taïma had done everything to keep her alive.

For two hours, Azula had been breathing regularly thanks to the spirophore, but her heartbeat remained irregular, sometimes suddenly accelerated, only to weaken and become barely noticeable the next minute.

Taïma now applied treatments she had from the ancestral knowledge of the Northern Water Tribes. Azula's head was wrapped in a blue sphere with iridescent edges that oddly distorted her face already covered by the breathing mask. For several minutes, the blood had accumulated dangerously again in Azula's skull, compressing her brain and Taïma was doing all she could to reduce the pression.

It was almost a miracle that Azula got through the night.

Taïma had to take care of Azula while responding to the requests of the various visitors who had followed one another to inquire about the princess or to bring new information.

Thus, Kadao had come, very pale, helmet under his arm, standing in front of Azula's elongated body at whom he was looking sadly. He announced to them, that the prison guards had found a gaping hole in her cell. Only a particularly gifted earthbender would have been able to infiltrate and make such an opening in the wall without being noticed. An escort of his men had followed the tunnel which stopped at a landslide. The man or woman who had helped Azula escape must have created it to make sure nobody would follow them.

Zuko had straightened up, eyes wide, fists clenched, ready to explode.

"Do you think ... Do you think Lu Fang...?"

"We can't make any assertion by now, Sire. My men are investigating. I will get back to you as soon as I know more. Stay close to the princess. I take care of the rest."

Ty Lee had returned for a while. A little calmer, she had been able to explain, not daring to look at Zuko who was staring intently at her, his brows furrowed, that Azula had managed to slow down her fall a little by making flames appear in her hands or perhaps at her feet. . That's what must have saved her. She also told them about the strange figure she had seen rushing up the wall after the Azula's fall. The detail only reinforced the presumptions of Zuko who stood up and began to pace around the room.

Taïma was happy that Zuko had refrained from asking Ty Lee by what miracle she had been there this evening. It was easy for her to imagine the internal struggle that was unfolding in the troubled mind of the young sovereign.

Ty Lee shouldn't have been there. Without her, Azula would not have gone out into town and none of this would have happened. But without her, she would have died, broken on these rocks, abandoned to the strong gusts of wind and to the waves crashing violently on the rocks. Her body would have ended in the sea, and no one would ever have seen her again, nor would have known what had happened. Zuko would have gone mad.

Taïma wondered if that was not the case already, judging by the drawn features of his face which brought out the hideous scar that disfigured him, by the dark circles hollowed out under his golden eyes, by his livid complexion and his scalp bristling with indomitable spikes.

Eventually Ty Lee left, her head bowed, disheartened, after kissing Azula on the forehead. Taïma wondered where she was planning to go and was slightly offended that Zuko did not spontaneously offer her asylum. Maybe Mai had taken care of it?

Iroh had returned. His reassuring presence had calmed Zuko for a moment. Fortunately, because the young man had been seething since Kadao's visit. The former general had convinced him to wait, and he had stayed a long time near Zuko, one hand on his shoulder, watching Azula struggle between life and death.

The Fire Lady had not returned. Taïma supposed that it was too hard for her to witness Zuko's pain and worry for her rival.

Taïma stifled a yawn. After a moment, judging that the bruise in the skull was sufficiently reduced, she hovered her hands above Azula's ribs. The latter were seriously damaged, both from the fall and from the multiple cardiac massages she had been forced to give her. If Azula were to wake up now, the pain would be almost intolerable for her. Taïma wanted to mend her broken bones as best she could before she regained consciousness.

She performed these gestures almost automatically, with an ease that other waterbenders would have envied. Taïma had always deeply regretted that the women of her Tribe were not allowed to practice waterbending for purposes other than medicine. But today she was grateful that she had had enough time to acquire such knowledge.

A growl drew her attention to the chair where Zuko shifted, seeking a more comfortable position. He mumbled something and fell asleep again.

With a pang, Taïma gazed at the intact part of his face. Zuko was a very handsome boy if you forgot his scar. His features had the delicacy and refinement befitting a king. Azula had the same advantages. Not for the first time, Taïma marveled at how similar they were. That realization stirred something in her stomach that made her feel very uncomfortable.

If Taïma still had doubts about Zuko's feelings for his sister, they had dissipated during that fateful night. The way he had stretched out beside her, burying his face in Azula's neck, letting his hand wander over her shoulders, her stomach, without caring that it brushed her chest in the process… These gestures could hardly be considered simply fraternal.

At one point, Zuko had caught Taïma's gaze. She must have been too slow to hide the disgust she felt despite herself, for he pulled away from Azula and got off the bed whose mattress emitted a sinister creak that seemed to echo in the dismal atmosphere of the room.

What could have happened between the siblings over the past few weeks? What had they said to each other in the little padded cell in the dungeon where the Fire Lord had gone to administer the sedative to contain Azula long enough for them to arrange for her transfer to prison?

What would Zuko do if by some miracle Azula survived her injuries? Would he have her locked up again? Taïma sincerely doubted it. She herself could not advise him such an idea. The imprisonment had only worsened the poor princess' condition.

The meager respite she had been able to give her, when she had entered the cell, flanked by two guards, strong and courageous enough to neutralize Azula, did not seem to have improved matters.

Taïma had managed to restore some strength to Azula's body, weakened by days of deprivation and self-harm. The powerful drugs she had given her had clouded her mind enough without dulling her most primitive reflexes. Azula could still open her mouth, swallow and drink. The healer had thus managed to feed her. Taïma had felt overcome by a deep disgust for herself. She hated having to come up with such methods with her patients. Seeing Azula spoon-fed like an impotent old woman had been a painful experience. Taïma had insisted on doing it herself. So no one else would witness the princess' humiliation.

It didn't have only disadvantages. At least Taïma had been able to examine Azula and was stunned at what she had discovered. There was something with her stomach. She felt a lot of disturbance in this area, and she remembered Zuko's description when he had detailed to her the state in which he had found Azula. The way she had squirmed on the floor, screaming in pain. Then to the blood she spit sometimes according to the guards.

Turning livid, Taïma had asked the guards who were constantly watching them to leave the room. After exchanging a slightly worried look, they complied. Taïma blamed herself for making such a diagnosis without Azula's consent. The princess was sleeping soundly then.

Taïma had finished this checkup, both relieved and more perplexed than ever.

At least Azula wasn't pregnant. Taïma was deeply grateful for it. How would she have announced such news to Zuko? Either he was the father or another man, the news would have made him lose what little discernment he had left.

Something else had bothered Taïma. Despite the seductive attitude the princess displayed in public, the healer didn't really think Azula had ever known a man. She hardly ever left the palace, except that night with Kojiro. Was it with him that she had lost her virginity? Was that the reason why she had attacked him? Had he forced her? It couldn't have been before the asylum. Azula was still a very young girl at the time, and she would never have taken the risk of covering herself with dishonor, especially with her father who scrupulously watched over it. So, if it wasn't… was it… Zuko?

Then, there was the other possibility. The one which had crossed Taïma's mind so often as she gazed at a terrified Azula, in the midst of a crisis, begging someone only she could see, kneeling on the floor of her cell at the asylum.

Forgive me, please! Don't do it anymore! Don't hurt me anymore!

This awful presumption drove Taïma sick every time it had reached her mind ... Every time her eyes had rested on the strange scar Azula wore on her hip. The one she stubbornly refused to talk about, claiming an old wound she had gained in a fight. Sometimes she simply dodged the question.

More than once Taïma had wondered if she should tell someone about her suspicions. But she had never found the courage. Would someone believe her?

As a woman who had grown up in a society where the words of her fellows were without value, Taïma had learned that it was sometimes better to silence herself. In the snowy plains of the North, tongues were sometimes loosened in the evening when the women would gather after the men had left to lead their expeditions in the frozen steppes. They then would leave to the shaman, (the only woman who enjoyed a respect and an authority comparable to theirs), the task of running the village.

Whatever their husbands and fathers think, the latter had not forgotten that she also was a woman, and she gladly closed her eyes to these small meetings that Taïma's mother sometimes organized in the living room of their modest family house.

It was from this old woman that Taïma had learned everything. She had taught her how to bend the water to her will and make it the most powerful medicine, how to listen to the spirits whispering in the northern wind, how to comfort the poor and the invalids. The old woman had taken her under her wingwhen Taïma had started to reveal her full potential, while her mother was afraid of it, fearing the trouble that such power could bring to her daughter.

If the old shaman had awakened a rebellious spirit in Taïma, she had also taught her the value of resignation. Some secrets must remain hidden, she used to say. This is something that the women of the North had learned, they had made it a way of life.

Mentalities were different in the Fire Nation. Taïma had been amazed the first time she had seen a woman dressed in the scarlet uniform of the soldiers. Thus, here, women could practice their mastery, wage war, be the equal of men! But a few months spent here and her discussions with the two or three girls she had dated had been enough to dampen her hopes. This equality was only superficial. And if the women here seemed more independent, the tyranny of the men did not spare them. They wanted women where they were useful. But not one of them sat among the Sages, and never had a female Fire Lord reigned. (Azula having almost been the exception). Women were asked to cease all military activity as soon as they got married. The others were forced to make a choice: marry a man or a military career. Most chose the first option. And the long bondage began. It was the same story everywhere.

So Taïma had been afraid. Afraid of what would happen if she revealed what she guessed about Azula's past. Would someone believe her? Would they try to silence her? Taïma doubted that Zuko himself, however great was the contempt his father inspired in him, was ready to hear such a disturbing truth.

What if he was willing to hear it? And if the ensuing investigation reached Azula's ears, would the princess bear to be confronted so brutally with this memory she was so desperately trying to bury? Taïma was afraid she already knew the answer. So she kept silent.

And when Azula had started to get better thanks to her treatment and Zuko's efforts, when she started to smile and blossom again, the healer just didn't have the heart to do so. What was the use of reminding the princess of the traumas she wanted so badly to forget? What good would it do, five years later, to unveil secrets that no one wanted to know? Besides, these were just presumptions, right?

Taïma had therefore chosen ignorance. She had chosen cowardice.

And now Azula was here, almost dead. And maybe it was in part her fault too.

Taïma remembered that she had spent the days following this checkup looking for where the disturbances she felt in Azula's organs could come from. But she found nothing. When Azula seemed strong enough, Taïma, heart heavy with knowing to what darkness she was condemning the young woman, allowed the guards, more and more urgent, to bring her back to her cell.

Taïma wondered, as she gazed at Azula's livid face and hollow chest, in what psychological state she would regain consciousness. Did it make sense to give her her medication now? This had not been possible in prison, when the princess would refuse all food. Taïma had tried to hide the medicine, in the form of an almost undetectable powder, in her food.

The stock in her pharmacy was almost out and Taïma wondered if it was really worth preparing more. Ty Lee claimed that Azula used to take her treatment every morning, still two days before she completely relapsed and attacked the unfortunate Suki. Obviously, it was no longer working. But that was all they currently had to combat the progression of the disease.

So, she walked over to a small cabinet in the bathroom and pulled out a small vial from a drawer that contained the odorless lilac-colored liquid Azula poured into her tea every morning before breakfast. She approached the princess whose chest rose and fell at an almost satisfying pace thanks to the spirophore.

The sound of the momentarily unplugged device woke Zuko. He straightened his chair up, looking worried. Taïma reassured him with a small smile and a wave of her hand and she slowly poured the medicine into Azula's mouth, taking care to hold her head well so that she did not swallow askew. Then, using her bending, she guided the precious liquid to the young woman's throat.

Zuko watched her work without a word and when she looked up, she thought she read in his gloomy gaze, the doubts and worries that beset her.

Would Azula survive? And if so, would she wake up one day? And in what state?

Taïma could not bear the idea of a physically or intellectually impaired Azula wandering around the palace like a walking dead, or nailed for life in a wheelchair, perhaps unable to speak, read, write. She knew – and Zuko too – it was a possibility that could not be ruled out. You don't survive a fall of thirty feet without aftermaths. Taïma feared that the suffocation had deprived her brain of air for too long.

All night Taïma had avoided thinking about Katara. It was her idea to use bloodbending. But what Katara had done tonight… The sight of Azula's molested body had horrified Taïma. She had never seen anyone use this power before. Katara should know what she was doing, right? And it had worked beyond all her expectations.

Taïma wondered if she had dreamed of the hatred and determination in Katara's sapphire eyes when Azula had started to choke on her own hands.

She gazed at Azula's poor livid face and noticed a residue of dried blood under her nose and at the edge of her ear. Taïma turned around to look for something to wipe it off on her small metal shelf, but she executed this gesture a little too quickly and a vertigo seized her. She caught up with the shelf and it tilted under the weight of her body. Syringes, vials, scissors and towels fell to the floor with a deafening crash.

Taïma uttered a loud curse and in a few seconds, Zuko was at her side, taking her by the waist.

"Go sit Taïma," he ordered firmly, leading her to the chair he had just left.

"No… I have to…" she protested piteously.

She suddenly felt exhausted. She had only been sitting for a few minutes since Azula had been brought to her.

"That's enough!" he decided. "You've been working all night long. Get some rest. I'm going to have a cot put up so you can get some sleep, I can watch over her."

He turned his head to his sister and immense sadness passed over his face. His clear golden eyes darkened, taking on a shade not unlike Azula's.

From the armchair where she was sitting, Taïma looked at him, a hand supporting her head which seemed terribly heavy to her.

"I'll find out what happened, Taïma, you'll see," he announced, placing a blanket back on Azula's battered chest. "I'm going to hunt down and flush out those who did this to her and I will exterminate them one after the other."

A shiver ran through Taima's spine, sending shocks to all extremities of her body. She watched as Zuko leaned over his sister's forehead and kissed it.

When he looked up at Taïma, it was a very different face from the one she knew that was searching her gaze.

His golden eyes were as incandescent as the still hot embers glowing in the hearth. One of them was lost in the scar more furrowed with wrinkles than ever. The angular jaw seemed more square, almost like it was carved with a knife. Protruding veins throbbed on his neck, betraying a dark, restless anger.

Taïma's heart tightened in her chest, and she knew, she knew deep down, that the era of peace they had known had just ended that night.