The sun rose over the city of Gaoling, peering through a notch in the eastern mountains. Toph Beifong felt the war rays on her face, instinctively turning away. In the distance her father was whispering with business partners about reports of Fire Nation troops massing at the State of Gaoling's borders.
He reiterated his orders to the household staff to tell nothing of this to Toph. A scowl wrinkled Toph's cheeks for a moment. She hid it behind porcelain, sipping daintily the jasmine tea. Mother was proud of the tea, boasting that it was grown on this very estate. It was a lifeless, astringent brew, and Toph found herself smacking her lips in a vain effort to get rid of the aftertaste.
This was home life for Toph. A father who'd been lying to her for years, and a narcissistic mother living vicariously through her.
Father's shoes scuffed across the tiles towards her. "Oh Toph, my little gemstone," he called."
"I can hear you fine, father," said Toph, carefully measuring her tone.
"I've been thinking, dearest. About how you've always wanted to see–err I mean experience more of the world."
Truthfully, Toph didn't really care, but her father's constant slip ups while he treated her with kid gloves were an endless amusement. "Oh father? What did you have in mind?"
"I think it's high time a budding young woman like you went to Ba Sing Se. I'm making arrangements for you to stay with your aunt Lin."
Toph was sure she gave it all away in a moment of shock. Her heart thumped to a halt as her lips scrunched up. The table cloth bunched up in her fist. How could even that oaf not notice? He just droned on about the wondrous life to be found in Ba Sing Se's upper ring, masking his deceit with gaiety.
She would have known he was lying even if she hadn't overheard. Her stomach tried to turn itself inside out as she went through the motions of being the dutiful, demure daughter. When her father excused himself, Toph crushed the porcelain cup in her fist. She kneaded the crumbles like clay, something to distract her. After forming the porcelain into a perfectly spherical marble, she decided it wasn't working.
Toph stormed from the garden veranda, ignoring the entreaties from the servants to guide her. Who is the blind one, really? she mused. In the past year, she'd stopped feigning all signs of frailty. She walked unaided through the manor, without even a guide stick. She'd started exercising openly at home, concealing neither physical nor bending practice. Yet still everyone from father on down treated her like an invalid.
And now, after finally making friends, finally finding a place where she could be something more than just the frail daughter of a prominent family, she was being shipped away; by a man who wouldn't even acknowledge that their country was fighting a war (to say nothing of losing one) in her presence.
The Earth Rumble was lost to her. She'd be caged in the upper ring, safe from the horrors of the war but utterly alone. Sprawling on her bed, Toph sighed. She'd wanted so badly to get out of here, and now the finger had curled on the monkey's paw.
A dangerous thought came. What if she just stopped obeying? There would be a hundred places to get lost in on the road to Ba Sing Se. A thousand in the city itself. It was her life, not her parents'. She was almost fifteen now. The girl who was supposedly the new Avatar wasn't much older. Well, she thought, what do I have to lose?
It was a tumultuous late autumn on the eastern shores of the Earth Kingdom. The surf crashed on the beach, the waves churning the littoral into white-capped froth. This port city was too close to Ba Sing Se to be effectively occupied; its walls and battlements remained intact, and the long docklands bustled even on a foul day like today.
It was as safe as Azula and her companions could get. Fat droplets of rain splashed on the hanok porch. Azula watched the little puddles form from atop the cozy ondol, a heated floor made from thick masonry built atop the long stove flue.
The tattooist mixed his inks in a stoneware mortar. Azula lay on her stomach, stripped down to her waist, while Suki sat at her head, holding her hand. The princess's tummy still itched from yesterday's session, even after applying the healing technique last evening and this morning.
It was a good pain, Azula decided. A warm glow filled her cheeks. It had taken time to figure out how best to write Katara's memory on her body. She'd decided to have the lines on her belly done to evoke the pattern of Katara's betrothal necklace. And because Azula was constitutionally incapable of half-measures, once she broke the tattoo taboo she decided on a gaudy womb tattoo, something only a prostitute would dare to have in the Fire Nation.
It's my body, not my father's, Azula mused. The tattooist, Gen, applied a mild soap to her bare back. His hands were pleasant as he worked in the suds. Feeling the wonderful lilt of the soju, Azula said "You know, if tattooing doesn't pan out, you could be a great masseur."
Gen snorted as he toweled her off. The feather-light strokes of a pen followed as he sketched out the pattern Azula had drawn for him, a sequence of the phases of the moon, going from full moon and back as it ran down her spine. The last flourish was entirely his own, fluffy white clouds flanking the moon above her sacrum.
Suki had sneered and called it a 'tramp stamp'. It tickled Azula so much she'd paid him double on the spot.
The needle pierced her skin, eliciting a soft "mmm" from Azula. Gen flushed, shaking his head as he continued to fill in the lines with ink. "You're not going to, uh, have a–" he paused, searching for the most delicate word, "-a convulsion like last time, right?"
"What's the matter, Gen?" teased Azula, "Are not used to hearing a woman make that sound?"
Even Suki was scandalized. "Azula! He's married!"
Gen thanked her but offered his own defense. "No, I don't hear that much in here. Pain doesn't usually do that."
"I can't help not being a usual woman," said Azula. Her mind wandered from the exquisite pain of the needle marking her. "But I do apologize if it makes you feel like you're unfaithful."
Suki patted her head. "Proud of you."
Anger rose. "Do not pet me like a dog."
Gen laughed. "Oh it's quite alright. My wife, she actually works at the brothel next door. She laughed when I told her."
Azula smiled, laying her head on her folded arms. "I think that's lovely, Gen. We all deserve to be loved."
"That does mean a lot, coming from the Avatar."
The melange of pain and pleasure had made Azula warm and languide, a relaxation she hadn't felt in weeks. It wonderfully complimented the alcohol. She remembered Katara sitting across from her, blue eyes peering at her over the wine cup, the night Azula first realized she had a thing for Katara. The melancholy returned again.
She could just about survive thinking about one or the other of them. But both their fragile, mortal bonds overwhelmed her. Azula suddenly felt foolish, worried this had broken in spirit her promise to stop engaging in self-harm. Foolish thinking that the physical pain of the needle could crowd out the mortal pain in her heart.
It was selfish of her. But Azula wanted everyone to know, especially those who would behold her body and soul in intimacy, that she belonged first to Katara and Yue, that she could never forget them.
"If you don't mind me asking," said Azula, "how did you meet your wife?"
Gen laughed uneasily. She could feel the frustration behind the needle, but he kept diligently at his work. When the ink reservoir emptied, Azula propped herself on her elbows, looking over her shoulder at Gen.
He was a coil of tension. Other men judged him weak, and did not shy away from saying it to his face. And he got off the lighter of the two. But those men were all fools. Their eyes met, and Azula understood that only a very strong heart could bear that and still love.
"We're untouchables, what else can I say?" Gen deflected.
Azula sat up and took his hand in hers. "I meant what I said, Gen."
Gen shrugged. "My mother was one too. I grew up with many 'aunts' looking after me. They may have been despised by the world, but they were my family. When I left to seek my fortune, I guess it was just natural I'd gravitate that way."
Gen offered them both more soju, promising to tell them the full story. Suki was quite interested too, remarking about Avatar Kyoshi's humble origins among people considered the refuse of society.
After refilling his pedal-pumped contraption, Gen talked at length about his wife. Azula mostly behaved herself, only occasionally interrupting to ask something about the tattoo 'pen' that scrawled over her back.
Gen had met Lihua four years ago, when he was a journeyman fresh out of his apprenticeship. Feeling flush from his hard work and lonely, a combination that had brought about many a young man's ruin, Gen found himself at the Jade Lily one evening with the other young bucks.
He was enamored with Lihua at first sight, buying her services without thought to the hole he'd burn in his wallet. But he was so bashful he wound up running his mouth so much, they ended up just talking while cuddled up together. Until the dawn broke through the window, and Gen realized they'd never quite got around to the deed.
Eyes glassy and feeling gooey with the euphoria of pain, Azula remarked, "It's a cute story."
Suki hadn't said anything the whole story but forlorn little "Awww's", until she patted Azula's head again and cooed, "When Katara said you were a romantic, I didn't believe her." The older girl wiped a lone tear from her eye.
"She showed me parts of myself I didn't know were there." Azula sighed, drinking in the aroma of the rains. "I wish Sokka could be here."
"Yeah, after last time that's not gonna happen. You're basically his adopted sister."
"It's not my fault. It's a purely biological reaction."
"I'm glad for you. You used to be so embarrassed about all this."
"Another…" Azula trailed off. She was going to dwell on Katara again. The grief had become an old friend, and she wondered if there was anything left for her beyond its black veil. "Another thing I learned from them."
She decided to just focus on the delicious prick of the needle lancing in and out of her skin. Yesterday's nerves were gone, and perhaps it was being so on edge that had set her off.
But Gen felt like an old friend now. His delicate work continued with steady conversation. It was an exercise in trust that the old Azula could have never survived. He poured her another saucer of soju, which she relished. When he returned to his work, Azula muttered, "I should learn how to do this someday."
"Well if some day the Avatar wishes to learn, who am I to refuse her?" said Gen with a laugh.
Katara opened her eyes. The memories flooded back, driving her heart into a panicked frenzy. She bolted awake, tearing aside the straw blanket. The fetid air assaulted her nose. The gentle roll upset her stomach, but with only bile in her it soon quieted.
"I'm on a ship," she muttered.
The scabs on her back tore with the exertion. Her hand fell to her waist to find clean linen bandages wrapped around her. Someone had put a great deal of effort into cleaning, dressing and stitching her wound.
The iron bars had begun to rust where the paint was thinnest. She was in the bowels of this ironclad, lit only by gas lanterns, but she felt the pull of the moon again. She did it. Yue really did it.
But when Katara tried to bend the water in her latrine, no matter how she tried it would not move. Something burned on her forehead each time. She reached up to find a sore bruise on her crown chakra.
"Oh you're awake," said a voice beyond the bars.
Katara rushed up to the iron, snarling. "You! I recognize you. You're the one who tried to stop me." Katara smirked, "What's the matter, come to have failure rubbed in?"
The man's face was bruised from their fight. An old scar tugged on the corner of his lips. His armor, pitted and scarred from years of use, looked only slightly less abused than his body. He smiled at her, exposing crooked but white teeth. "Call it a miracle, or divine intervention, but your little stunt didn't kill us, and we didn't die from hypothermia before we were fished out of the ocean."
The man glanced around for any listeners. "And well, I couldna' leave you to die, miss. 'Specially with you being one of Azula's companions."
Katara's eyes narrowed. "So I'm a hostage."
The man pulled back in surprise. "Oh good heavens no! What kind of man do you take me for?"
"An officer in a murderous army of conquerors."
"Well I came up from the ranks, so it's always been my guts for their glory. No, no, I owe our mutual friend a life debt. I intend to keep it, in so far as I don't directly betray my country."
"That's hard for me to believe."
"Just keep your mouth shut and you won't have to believe. You're just a Water Tribe healer we captured before we had to tuck tail and run. Understand?"
"Understood."
"You'll have to cooperate, of course."
"And that's the other shoe dropping."
"It's hard to find sufficiently loyal healers among those we press into service."
"Gee, I wonder why."
"I'm not going to debate the politics of it. Do you want my help or not?"
"Fine. My name is Katara. What's yours?"
"No it's not, try again."
"Fine. I'm Kya."
"Nice to meet you, Healer Kya. I"m Captain Li of the 8th Calderan Regiment."