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Chapter 10: Brave
"—and then Zuko ran out and was yelling at him to stop, but of course Sparky Sparky Boom Man was not a stopping kind of guy. So, there's a fight, yours truly saves the day with an amazing boomerang shot to the forehead, Zuko makes a speech about honor, and we let him join the crew. And—that's how we became friends with Zuko."
"Your forehead or his?" Toph asked, from where she sat on the saddle, hands laced behind her head.
Sokka blinked. "Mine—no, his—" He glowered at Toph. "Stop trying to confuse me!"
They had been flying for hours now, and the blue sky was starting to tinge pink with the beginning of evening. Though Zuko's mother hadn't complained, it was clear she wasn't used to sitting for so long, not to mention she kept shooting glances at the front of the saddle where Katara sat in brooding silence, staring out at the sky ahead. Which was why Sokka, out of the goodness of his heart, had decided to distract her with stories of all their adventures. He couldn't help it if it just happened most of them were about him.
"You also left out the part where Zuko was the one to hire Sparky Sparky Boom Man in the first place," Toph added, lazily playing with her meteorite band again, coiling it into a spring, then forming it into a claw the same shape as Combustion Man's metal hand.
Sokka, who had returned to reveling in his heroism, scowled. "It's called tact. Maybe you should try it sometime."
Zuko, who had taken over the reins and pushed Aang back to the saddle the moment Sokka had started in, grumbled, "I can't believe you told her the entire story."
Zuko's mother was sitting with her legs folded under her, her hands in her lap, just a short ways from where Sokka leaned back against the sleeping rolls. She chuckled softly.
"It sounds as though things were never easy, for any of you," she said. "I'm just glad Zuko was able to convince you in the end. You have all been such good friends to him."
Zuko sat on Appa's head, shoulders hunched, refusing to turn. However, the wind ruffled his hair, and the edge of his jaw was just visible, slightly pink with embarrassment.
"And he has to us, too," said Aang, smiling as he picked a big piece of fruit out of a pack to give to Momo, who was perched on his shoulder.
Sokka shrugged. "I guess he's come in handy once in a while. He might have helped me a little when I saved our Dad and Suki at the Boiling Rock prison. Now, there's a story. We went undercover, started a prison riot, almost got killed on a gondola fight with Azula—"
Sokka paused, and he glanced back at Ursa. Her expression was hard to read, but a flash of something like pain flickered in her features, and she glanced at Zuko's back, where he sat at Appa's head.
Toph made a circling gesture with a hand, which Sokka interpreted as Nice tact, while Aang glanced uncertainly between Sokka and Ursa.
"So, um," Aang inserted, looking toward Ursa. "We've told you a lot of stories, but maybe you'd like to tell us some now." He hesitated, then added cautiously, "Like... what Zuko and Azula were like as kids. I guess they would have been different then, huh?"
Sokka thought this question of even less tact than his, but as Ursa turned back to look at Aang, her solemn face brightened slightly.
"Oh—yes," she said. "Yes, they were." She smiled, staring off into the distance. "Zuko used to always come find me, to tell me what he had learned from his tutors, and show off what new firebending forms he was working on. There's a pond in the gardens with a family of turtles ducks I used to love to sit and watch for hours, and sometimes he would come to me there when he was upset, and we would talk, about so many things..."
Sokka glanced ahead and noticed Katara had, for the first time, turned her head halfway back, one ear tilted in Ursa's direction.
Ursa smiled again at the memory, then sighed. "Azula was... always less affectionate than Zuko. Even from a young age. We were often at odds." She paused for a moment. "But... there were times, on occasion, she would sit and let me comb her hair. I was glad she didn't inherit her hair from me, mine was always so unmanageable as a child." She chuckled ruefully. "I... still treasure those memories."
"That's nice," Aang said. "I bet she still remembers."
Ursa glanced at him, still smiling, but eyes doubtful. "Perhaps."
The saddle was silent for a long minute then. Sokka noticed Katara had turned back to face the sky again, where the red of evening had begun to creep over the sky.
"Well," Sokka said at last. "I guess we should start thinking about stopping to make camp. It's been a long day."
"Yeah," Aang said. "You must be getting tired too, huh buddy?" He reached over the edge of the saddle to rub Appa's fur. Appa groaned in agreement.
Ursa's eyes were still distant. And Katara didn't turn again.
Suki resisted the urge to put a hand to her aching head.
As she strode along the corridor, watching palace guards light the night torches as the evening sky outside darkened, her boots dragged. She had just finished welcoming Lord Iroh to the palace, and informing him of recent events. He had been disturbed by the notion of bloodbending, but confident Zuko and the Avatar would be able to handle the threat. Now she was heading for her usual post outside Ursa and Ikem's room. She always took the night shift, the time of day Zuko had tended to be the most anxious about attacks and assassins.
However, between arranging for the guards to set patrols to watch the newly discovered hidden passages and the continuous disquiet buzzing at the back of her skull, she hadn't gotten more than an hour of sleep since the harrowing shift the night before. Her body and mind both were exhausted, and she anticipated a long night.
Suki turned the last corner, and was startled when a figure materialized in front of her.
Suki already had her fans drawn before she recognized the painted face and golden tassels. Liu.
"Oh, sorry," Suki began, relaxing. "I know I was supposed to relieve you half an hour ago—"
Liu's eyes were wide in the darkness. "Suki—" she gasped. "I only stepped away for a moment, to do a round around the corridor. And, when I came back—"
Suki's lungs seemed to constrict in her chest, and she barely breathed as she rushed ahead. She drew back the door, peering inside.
Ikem's long, thin form was there, breathing steadily beneath the silken blankets. However—the small form normally tucked between him and his wife was gone.
"Suki," Liu whispered, almost frantic. "What should we—"
Suki's heart pounded in her ears. This couldn't be happening. Zuko had only entrusted his family to her for one day. And how could Azula have done it, with Ikem sleeping right there, with only one Kemurikage to help her now and the passage straight to this room now guarded—
Suki clamped down on her rising panic, trying to think clearly through her exhaustion. A thought was forming in her mind, and she swiftly strode off down the corridor, Liu keeping close to her heels. Suki looked briefly in each of the guest rooms along the way, until at last she reached one of the doors leading to one of the long balconies outside.
She pushed it open, and as her eyes scanned the night, they fell on the outline of a small figure, in the middle of an unmistakable firebending form.
Suki sagged with relief, leaning against the door frame. She glanced back at Liu. "It's okay," she said in a low voice. She hesitated, then added, "Do you think... you could go back to the room, and stand in for me for a little while longer?"
Liu, who also looked ready to collapse from relief, paused, then nodded. However, as she eyed Suki for a moment, she said, "Maybe I should go get one of the others to take the shift for the night. You... look like you could use a rest."
Suki shook her head. "I'm fine."
Liu's lips quirked at the corners in an almost reprimanding smile. "With all due respect, Captain—I don't think you are."
Suki hesitated. Then she smiled a little, too. She turned away with a sigh. "Tell me if you can't find anyone."
"I will." Liu turned and started back down the corridor. Suki turned her eyes to the outline of a small figure in the darkness outside, and approached.
"Kiyi?"
Kiyi gave a guilty start, freezing in the middle of her form. Her eyes dropped to the ground, glaring stubbornly.
"What are you doing out here, Kiyi?" Suki asked, as gently as she could.
Kiyi looked defiant, though as her hands fell to her sides, she fidgeted. "I was just practicing Zuzu's dance. It always seems to make him brave."
Suki crouched down to eye level. She noticed, a little ways away near the railing, was one of the dolls Kiyi always carried about, which she gathered Ursa had made for her. It was different from the one Suki was most used to seeing, this one with hair long, black thread sewn in for the eyes. "I guess it must be hard to sleep with your mom gone," Suki ventured.
Kiyi went over to the doll and grabbed it, tucking it under one arm. She gave a forced shrug. "Mommy is doing something important. That's what Daddy said."
"She is," Suki agreed. "And she'll be back soon. I'm sure she's missing you right now." She had to add, "But, you really shouldn't be out here alone. Why don't you come and get me next time? You can show me your dance."
Kiyi was staring down at her doll again, before she looked up. "You're scared those scary ladies are gonna try to take me away again," she said bluntly.
Suki blinked, startled.
Kiyi went on before she could answer, "Well, I'm not scared. Those ladies don't scare me at all. I could take 'em!" One hand still clutching the doll, she punched forward with the other to demonstrate.
Suki chuckled a little. "I'm sure you could. But you know, there are still two scary ladies we haven't caught yet. And if there were two, don't you think you'd want some backup? I know I would."
Kiyi folded her arms, grumbling, but didn't try to argue.
Suki studied the girl in the moonlight for a long moment, her small shoulders tight, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Glaring defiantly off along the long balcony walkway.
"You know," Suki said suddenly. "I wish I were as brave as you."
Kiyi blinked and glanced back in surprise. Her arms unfolded. "But," she said uncertainly. "You are brave. You're the bravest person ever—well, except for Zuzu."
Suki smiled a little. "Okay, I shouldn't have said brave. I meant—I wish I wasn't scared. You can be scared and still be brave—but there are some things I wish I wasn't scared of that I am." She hesitated, then added ruefully, "I guess that sounds silly."
Kiyi stared back at her, her wide, childlike eyes watching Suki in the darkness. Suki suddenly felt a pair of small arms around her neck, the legs of the doll slapping against her shoulder plates.
"I would be scared if I didn't have Zuzu," Kiyi admitted. "Even when he's far away, he makes me feel really strong. So I'll help you not be scared."
Suki knelt there for a moment, too startled to move. Then, with a smile, she slowly raised her hands and gently wrapped her arms around the small girl in return.
Suki climbed to her feet.
"I'm going to take you back to bed now, okay?" she said. She took Kiyi's free hand in hers, the doll dangling at her other side. "And if you want to practice late at night again, let me or one of the other Warriors come with you. We'd love to watch you train."
"Okay," Kiyi huffed, then peeked up at Suki again and smiled.
By the time they reached the room, Kiyi was yawning and half swaying on her feet, and Suki picked her up and carried her inside.
Ikem was sitting up on the edge of the bed, and the moment he saw Suki, he jumped up, coming forward.
"When I woke up and she was gone..."
"Sorry," Suki said, keeping her voice low now—Kiyi was fast asleep. "I think she had trouble sleeping without her mother."
She handed the girl off and Ikem took her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He nodded in understanding. "Your friend told me that she was with you. I knew she was safe then."
Suki smiled in return. "Glad I could help. She's strong, your daughter."
As Suki made her way back to the doorway, she glanced back over her shoulder, watching as Ikem carefully set Kiyi on the bed, pulling the covers over her and tucking the doll in beside her. Smiling to herself, she stepped outside.
Liu was there, now along with Ty Lee, who was looking surprisingly well rested, almost back to her bouncy self.
"I can cover night duty for you tonight," said Ty Lee, waving an arm. "You should get some sleep, Suki."
The earlier adrenaline rush had almost completely faded now, leaving Suki wanting to do nothing but curl up on the floor. However, she shook her head.
"I think we need to go back to having two guards posted at night. That way one can do rounds and another will be here at all times, especially since I told Kiyi if she wants to go out and practice firebending to ask one of us to go with her." Excepting nights of the full moon where Zuko had asked for extra security, they had taken to posting only one guard outside Ursa and Ikem's room, mostly so they could free up the other Warriors on duty to do regular patrols around the palace. But perhaps concentrating protection more would be more effective.
"Um," Ty Lee began. "Okay, but—"
Liu folded her arms. "Fine," she said. "I just hope you have someone in mind to replace you when you drop dead. Otherwise we'll all have to work twice as hard."
Suki blinked, and turned to really look at the two for the first time. Liu was scowling at her in annoyance, while Ty Lee had her hands clasped together in a kind of plea.
Suki hesitated. "But I guess… we can talk about that later. After I've slept on it."
"Good idea," Liu said, arms still folded.
Suki turned away, starting off down the corridor. She could always tell she had pushed herself too far when Liu's sarcastic side came out. Liu never had any patience for any one on the team who drove themselves to extremes trying to be heroic, and when she was thinking clearly, Suki would normally agree. Suki might have been the captain, but they were quick to break any sense of formality whenever they needed to. They were sisters first.
Suki sighed to herself. She was spreading them all too thin. Perhaps she would speak to General Mak in the morning, to better coordinate their efforts to keep the palace well guarded. At the very least, they would have to come up with a plan as to how to approach the coming nights of the full moon. There was a time she had been reluctant to post her Warriors directly with Mak's forces—both because in the beginning the Fire Nation forces had seemed not to entirely trust a group of foreigners coming in to act as the Fire Lord's personal bodyguards, and for the practical reason that the Kyoshi Warriors just fought with each other better than they could with anyone else. But like Zuko and everyone else, she was having to learn that integration was the way of the future. They really were stronger together than apart—Suki ought to have known that better than anyone.
"You don't need to worry. Whatever happens…"
A chill rose on Suki's skin, and she shivered. And, even as she dragged herself sluggishly back in the direction of her room, memories of silver light seemed to play at the edges of her vision, and she remembered why it was she wasn't so anxious to sleep.
Ursa was trying to be useful.
As everyone bustled about, making camp, she looked for something she could do. At first she went to gather firewood—but apparently Zuko and Avatar Aang already had that covered, and before long they had a fire burning cheerily as the sun dipped toward the horizon, and the sky began to darken. She also approached the area they had picked out for putting up the tents, but Sokka vaguely waved her off as he frowned and studied the ground for the best spots, picking up the stakes to hammer them in, while Toph simply made her own shelter with slabs of earth. Ursa thought to gather some nuts and berries to possibly add to supper, but as she started toward the woods Zuko called to her not to go too far.
And so, at last, Ursa found a spot next to Appa, and sat down with her arms around her knees. She felt like a small child, wanting to help, but instead constantly underfoot. Perhaps the best way to help was to keep out of the way.
Appa was obviously exhausted from the day's travels, and Ursa carefully patted his flank.
"Thank you for all your work," she murmured. "You have certainly earned a rest."
The beast gave a low growl in reply, and eyed her for a moment, and she rather felt he might be reprimanding her for being so patronizing. He turned his shaggy head away from her, eyes closing. She sighed.
Ursa had never been so sore. Not even after that first day with Ikem after they had been reunited, where, after so many sedentary years in the palace, they had spent the entire day journeying through the forest, climbing trees to get a look at the forest below, camping on the ground. Something about not moving, staying in one place, turned out to be far more taxing.
Ursa hesitated, then carefully slid a hand into the inside pocket of her cloak, and withdrew a small object. She held it up to the evening light.
Kiyi—or so Kiyi had decided to name the doll—was Kiyi's favorite of her small collection, and normally she didn't go anywhere without it. Ursa still recalled vividly the days she had labored over it, Kiyi jumping up and down all around her with excitement until Ikem, or Noren as he'd gone by then, had finally distracted the girl with one of his impromptu games outside. Though Ursa had never been much of a seamstress, she had taken a bit of leftover material from some of Kiyi's play clothes and sewn a little dress with all the care she could muster, then finally sewn on the old buttons for eyes.
Ursa closed her eyes, picturing the scene from earlier that morning, as she stood in the door of their room in the palace, her pack over one shoulder.
"You take this, Mommy," Kiyi's small voice had announced, as she stepped forward from where she stood next to Ikem near the bed. He had already told her Ursa was going, and now her small face was set in a look of grim determination. She stretched out an arm, the doll dangling from her small fist. "Kiyi will protect you!"
Ursa smiled at the memory, but there was a tightness in her chest she couldn't quite release. With a sigh, she stowed the small doll back in her cloak pocket.
Ursa scanned the camp again—and as she did, her eyes fell on Katara.
Katara's back was to Ursa. She knelt before the campfire Zuko had made, a pot of soup suspended above the flames in front of her. She had just finished dumping the last of the ingredients from a supply pack into the bubbling water, and now she produced a wooden ladle, which she used to stir.
Ursa hesitated. She hardly wanted to bother anyone as they were working, especially as she was doing nothing. But—the guilt of the earlier argument she had caused between Katara and her friends had been stewing inside her all day like acid. She had been hoping for an opportunity to attempt to clear the air somehow.
Hesitantly, Ursa climbed to her feet. The stiffness in her limbs made her wince and stumble, but she ignored it. She approached, until she came to stand just a few paces from where Katara knelt.
"That... smells good," Ursa began cautiously. "You must be a very good cook."
Katara glanced up at her briefly, before her eyes dropped back to the stew.
Ursa paused again, before steeling herself. She knelt down on the ground, not so close as to invade the girl's space, but close enough to be heard. She bowed forward slightly, in the way she always had as a child when she knew herself to be in trouble with her parents, and hoping to appease them.
"I know my presence here must be... frustrating," she began. "Having someone who can't help you fight in any way. You must be concerned that my being here may inadvertently put your friends in danger. I am so sorry for that."
Katara turned, really looking at her for the first time. Her face still had that same drawn look as it had that morning, the skin beneath her eyes slightly dark, mouth tense. However, at last she sighed, eyes dropping away.
"It's not us I'm worried about." Her eyes rose back up to meet Ursa's again, and they were hard and earnest. "It's you." She shook her head. "I don't think you should be doing this. Zuko finally has you back. What would he do if something were to happen to you?"
Ursa opened her mouth to respond, but Katara's eyes had drifted away again, to stare hard at a point in the distance.
"I know you're... her mother, too," she began. "But—you just don't know what she's done. She killed Aang. She conquered Ba Sing Se. Now she's lied to a bunch of waterbenders and she's using them. And you don't know what she's done to Zuko all these years—she really tried to kill him during their Agni Kai, and now she's trying to do more besides."
Ursa paused for a moment. Then she murmured, "And she wished to kill me at our cottage, and she kidnapped Kiyi and the other children. Even as a child she would speak casually of the harm and death of others, complain of her instructors to get them banished to the colonies, burn the flowers if they weren't pretty enough..."
Ursa closed her eyes. "She must seem... very terrible to you. And indeed, there were things that disturbed me. I have since learned everything I could about her from the years when I was not here, and I admit, I see Ozai in her, more so now than even then."
Ursa breathed. Her eyes opened. "But—that is why I must speak with her. There are—things I need to tell her. She may have been all but raised by my former husband, but she is not him, whatever she might think. And I can't say, looking back, if I always handled things as well as I might have. So I would like nothing more than the chance for her to speak to me as well. Explain her feelings to me, in her own words."
An image summoned itself in her mind, as it often did. Azula, as she was now, sitting beside her, speaking, explaining the pains she had felt as a child. Angrily perhaps, accusingly, yet honestly. In Ursa's mind, somehow, unlikely as it was, it was always next to the turtle duck pond. She imagined finding some new measure of understanding, and along with it the way to grant some measure of comfort, reassurance, however slight.
"I must see her," Ursa murmured. "I must—try to help her."
Katara was quiet for a long moment. She turned back to the soup, and stirred it, the various whites and dull browns of vegetables briefly rising to the surface, only to be submerged again.
When at last Katara spoke, her voice was quiet, barely a murmur. "Did Zuko ever tell you... that we lost our mother? Me and Sokka, I mean."
Ursa hesitated. "...No. He didn't."
Katara continued, "She was killed in a Fire Nation raid. I found out later they were looking for a waterbender they had heard about—me. My mother lied, and told them she was the waterbender. She died to protect me."
Ursa didn't know what to say. "I'm… so sorry. That's a terrible thing."
Katara turned and looked at her. The anger had gone from her face. Instead, through the pain, she regarded Ursa with a kind of sad kindness.
"I know Azula is your daughter too," she said. "But—I don't think you're going to be able to help her. And I think you already know that. So, if you're doing this because you feel like you're trying to make up for something in the past, something you did or didn't do—well, I don't think that's a good enough reason. Zuko and Kiyi—they need you. They need their mother."
Katara turned away again then, her eyes fixed on the soup. She slowly circled the ladle, around, and around.
Ursa watched her for a long moment, as the light of the day slowly died in the distance. It was easy to look at the Avatar and his friends, and just see a group of young people, making jokes and having fun, without a care in the world. But the war had scarred each of them in its own way. They knew suffering, they knew loss. They were wise beyond their years.
But Ursa had already known from the beginning that what she was doing was selfish. As she raised her eyes to the darkening sky, she wondered if, even now, if Azula too was gazing up at the same sky. If she was delightedly planning what trouble she would cause for Zuko next—or if some of the demons that plagued her the last time they had met still tormented her, even now.
Did you have to have a new daughter because your last one...
Ursa's eyes slid closed. She would look to the future clearly, without looking away. She had finally faced Ozai, seen him as he was. Now she was ready, to face the shadow he had cast. Perhaps she could not dispel it—but she could do everything in her power to try.
A/N: First post of June! This one has always felt like something of a transition/buildup chapter (also children are hard to write), yet for various reasons somehow it's been one of my favorites, too.
Always consider the first ten chapters of a longer story something of a milestone, so that's worth celebrating. With the story a little more established now, posting might be slowing down a bit, we'll see how I'm feeling and how the editing goes.
Thank you so much for reading! If you have a moment, let me know what you think so far, and hope to see you in the next one!
Posted 6/3/23