A/N: Trigger Warning. Abuse and assault discussed in this chapter. Tread carefully.

Chapter 53: I Have Seen the Face of La

"You're completely red in the face."

"Uhhhh…" Because why wouldn't he be a mess of crimson when her silk voice flowed beside his ear, followed by a peck that blessed his lips. He felt hot as he burned in the flames of inexplicable heat, sinking his cheek against the softness of her mouth as she kissed him not once, not twice, but repeatedly, slowly tasting his soul away, her warm palms cupping his face.

"You don't seem to want to look me in the eye anymore, isumataq," she nearly sang into his skin as she reached down to his chest, mimicking the accidental kiss she previously placed there a few days before.

"That's not…that's not true, I… just—eek!" came a squeak as she kissed him yet again in that same spot. She giggled into his chest as he sighed, fighting back a smile, "Your High—oh…"

Her lips trailed up his jaw, nails lightly raking through his stubble. He trampled his bottom lip, whining helplessly, "Dronningi, dronningi, Spirits!"

"Get your Spirits out of here," she whispered, her arms wrapping around him, tugging his body closer to her, "All we need," sinking her face into his neck, "is instinct."

Instinct. By now, he was heaving for breath, appearing feverish with each touch. She sighed against his mouth, fingers grasping the locks of his loosened wolf tail, her other palm resting on his bicep with her thumb tracing light circles against his skin. His helpless addiction to this touch manifested in a moan of her name.

"Oh boy," she shook her head at his pitiful condition, "It's just a matter of getting used to it, Pretty Boy."

Getting used to it? But he didn't have a chance to ask about it as her lips continued seeking a waltz with his. A waltz that they'd teased during their wedding kiss but which ended up short-lived.

"You…you're sure…?"

At that point, she pulled back, her big, baby blue eyes blinking at him, lidded with an emotion he couldn't recognize. Her hands reached for his and then guided them to her waist, "What do you think?"

And his feelings exploded within him, seeping into his cheeks as color as he let himself go and kissed her back. A kind of hunger took over, lips craving lips, warmth making love with touch as he smiled against her lips. He let little sighs escape as they found some sort of rhythm. At least, he thought they did, given he couldn't really make sense of anything that was happening. All he felt was pure heat. Sweet heat all around, her soft fingers digging into his back, nails inscribing light crescents on his dark skin…

Sokka rolled over in his bed for a fourth time, which resulted in a loud thud as his body hit the ground, the fall knocking him out of the dream. The rude awakening ruined the images flashing through him, and he sprawled out on the floor, taking in the harsh cold air, catching sight of the marking on his wrist as he rubbed his head.

"Well this is difficult," he leaned back against the pelt carpet, gaping at the stars that told him he must've slept for only an hour at best. Closing his eyes, "She's probably thinking about anything else but this."

"I really shouldn't be thinking about this," she sighed as she paced in her chambers, eyelids heavy but sleep never coming. For the twentieth time that night, her fingers paused at her lips, tracing them, involuntarily mimicking the touch of his a few hours before.

It wasn't the same; his lips were considerably warmer, their taste resembling a savory dish sprinkled with sea salt, and just thinking about it evoked within her a foreign set of feelings...

It wasn't until she caught her reflection in a mirror while passing by it in her pacing spree that she realized she was smiling, that her face was drenched in color. She shook her head, frowning, her smile rescinding, "What am I doing? I can be going down this road! I have a nation in my hands, I…I don't have the interest or energy or time…"

Telling herself this, she crashed back beneath her covers, trying not to look at the marking on her wrist that kept glimmering under the peeking moonlight. She squeezed her eyes shut, "Come on, come on, I need to sleep! I have a conference tomorrow, the last one, please. For the love of the Spirits…"

But it didn't work. A soft sigh parted from her, and she licked her lips, tasting that delicious sea salt…

"I'm not opening that door. This is just an arrangement. We're lifelong friends, and that's enough. No chances...I can't take any chances..."

Though the vivid sequence unfurling before her right now teased her otherwise, her frame leaning against the wall, completed by his warmth, a bright smile on his face that reached his eyes.

"K-Kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am." And he leaned forward, welcoming the taste of her lips, simultaneously filling her senses with that Ocean Eros scent, good god, it should be made illegal…

"I'd make a good husband, dronningi," he whispered, following up one kiss with another, then another and yet another, dark hands taking careful care as they cradled her face.

"Yes, yes you would," she slightly moaned into his mouth, extracting a knowing chuckle from him, "For the right woman, oh universe…"

"What if you're the right one?"

"Sokka…"

"We'd be the best couple…"

"Have you forgotten? Your parents would never..."

"Doesn't matter. Nothing does."

With a huff, "…not opening that door…"

"Oh come on, now," his lips descended to the crook of her neck. "You wanted this."

"But…nation…mmmnnnn…"

Soft fingers brushed her curls back, not minding her strong pull at his own locks, "Is your nation not mine?"

She shuddered, closing her eyes as he kissed her eyelids, leaving a peck on her forehead next, "We could do any activity you want," thumbing her temples, "Everything you've ever wanted."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

She shot her eyes wide open, panting, shaking her head, "I'm just stressed is all! I'd never say that, I wouldn't...I'd never give in..."

But he was back, always back. And fuck, his eyes and lips were perfection.

"Stop it, stop it, you don't think that way!"

"Don't stop, please, don't stop."

Beneath the slivers of merciful moonlight, two lovers who were racing towards one another from opposite directions, yearning for each other following an extensive period of separation, collapsed into a tight embrace in the shadows. They wept with joy yet were driven by adrenaline. The young woman trembled in the arms of the young man, letting go of the breath she'd been holding all this time as he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her.

"You got the message," the man whispered, resting his forehead against hers, "I was so worried you wouldn't make it. That bastard didn't find out, did he?"

"No," the woman said, her gloved hand tugging at the furs near her neck, revealing the betrothal necklace her lover had tied around her neck a couple of nights before. Amid the stars following a hurried engagement, the forbidden lovers had secretly united in matrimony. All that was left was commencing their new life together away from the forces holding them apart. The young tribesman sighed in relief, taking another moment to revel in the presence of his bride, but after a closer glance at her face under the brightening moon, he stiffened, an anguished breath leaving his lips. His thumb hovered above a fresh bruise near her eye but refrained from touching it, "What did that bastard do?!"

"He flipped out because I went to the market unsupervised."

"Why did you even go?" he winced, tears churning in his eyes, "You know that blubberface—"

"There was no other way for me to get to the fountain for your message. I didn't have time in the morning," she confessed, even the slip of her tear invoking much pain, extracting a hiss from her, "If I hadn't stepped out, I wouldn't have gotten the message. I wouldn't have been able to meet up with you now…"

Brushing at his damp eyes, "I'm so sorry, I didn't think—"

"It's not your fault. One more night of beatings is worth it for a lifetime of freedom."

"No, it's not. He's a monster, that man." Gently grasping her hand, he led her behind a particularly large glacier in an area of sparse light. In the shadows, his hand gently sought the skin above her eye and near her cheekbone, earning another hiss despite his gentle touch. In spite of his breaking heart, he kept calm and summoned water around his palm. A faint healing glow encased the water, bringing about a speck of light to accompany the moon. His hand pulled away from her face, and he was relieved to see that her bruise was gone.

"How do you feel? Are you hurt anywhere else—?"

"No," she assured, brushing away his returning tears, "I'm okay, I am. Promise."

Holding her hand, "We need to get out of this hellhole before we're seen. I arranged a gondola in the outer sector. It won't be long now."

"And we won't ever have to look back."

The newlyweds brought their lips together in a passionate kiss before seizing the chance before them. Keeping their fingers intertwined, they trudged through the snow, making their way through a shortcut to the outer sector. This path required a detour from the city canals and cut straight through the surrounding tundra, which was lined by distant ports for harboring incoming cruisers. The couple remained on the lookout for any sign of the woman's father, but they didn't seem to expect that danger would await them another way, specifically in the form of a Fire Nationer with colossal sideburns, who was lingering warily by his respective cruiser on account of extensive ship repairs.

The couple paused at the sight of the said man, who was surrounded by other Fire Nation soldiers camping out by the ship and bossing around the "tribal savages" who were tending to the ship. One such soldier cast a look at the couple, who had halted in their steps. The soldier caught a glimpse of the tribeswoman.

"Agni above," the soldier whispered, "That's the finest savage I've seen…"

Zhao, having overheard the remark, turned in the direction of who exactly had the soldier drooling. He raised his eyebrows, piqued by who he felt was a savage of "average appeal" for his taste. Nevertheless, he took note of her features, his domineering side titillated by the woman's nervousness, by the way she tried to hide her face in the shadows. He didn't care that she was young enough to be his daughter; all he wondered as he licked his lips was, Agni, when was the last time I indulged?

"O-Our apologies," the young tribesman said to them, "W-We were trying to get home…"

Zhao stood up from where he was perched, keeping his eyes on the woman. The soldiers looked at him, recognizing the expression on his face. The woman held her husband's hand more tightly, urging him that they should leave.

"W-We'll be on our way now, s-sorry for interrupting," the man shielded his wife. He then began backing up before bowing in goodbye, "E-Enjoy your night—"

But Zhao stopped him, his calloused hand crashing down over the tribesman's shoulder. The admiral's arm then wrapped around both of the tribesman's shoulders, holding him in place, "Now now, no need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."

The woman gulped, her hand still holding her husband's. Zhao flashed her a look, "The Fire Nation doesn't bite like you think it would."

"W-We would never think that, sir," the man chuckled nervously, "But we should be on our way now—"

"They say Water Tribe hospitality is unparalleled by that of any other society in the world," Zhao drawled. "It is with that confidence that I ask you for a favor."

"A favor?"

With no hesitation at all, "I want your wife for the night."

The couple's rage manifested as heated glares in response. "What the hell did you just say?!" the tribesman roared.

"Don't worry, it's just for one night. Or two—"

"The fuck?!"

"Yes, that is the end goal—"

"Who do you think you are?!" the tribesman grabbed hold of Zhao's coat. The tribeswoman, terrified by the consequences awaiting a move as bold as grabbing a Fire Nation admiral by the collar, urged her husband to let go, caught up in fear for his life over her rage.

"You better be drunk if you wanna live!" the tribesman bellowed, "Just wait 'till we have you reported to the White Lotu—!"

"Watch your tone, boy, or it'll end badly," Zhao muttered as he slapped the young tribesman's hand away, "This isn't a request. It's an order." Grabbing hold of the woman's hand, ignoring her alarmed shriek, "I want this savage in my bed tonight—"

"Qirahn!" the woman cried out.

"Chumali!"

The woman succeeded in yanking her hand away and hid behind her lover. The soldiers laughed at her terror as Zhao smirked and grabbed her again.

"Let go of my wife, you filth!" the tribesman shoved Zhao off, but the admiral's grip was disgustingly persistent. He seemed to enjoy this struggle, almost, deliberately restraining from blasting fire in their faces.

"Let go of me—!"

"You can come and get her tomorrow," Zhao snickered above the woman's hollers. "If you still want her after how she ends up, that is—"

"You ashmaking PIECE OF BLUBBERSHIT!" Qirahn didn't hold back from delivering a punch to the admiral's face, shocking the soldiers and Zhao himself out of their wits with his boldness. The tribesman, letting go of all fear of consequences following an offense against a high-ranking firebender, sent a tendril of water in Zhao's direction in an attempt to freeze him to the exterior of the ship, but Zhao dodged the move, which caused a soldier to plop hard against the cruiser, his back nearly crushed from the force as the ice froze his entire body. Before Qirahn could make a more accurate move on Zhao, however, several quick jabs to his side and near his ribs rendered him temporarily paralyzed with lack of bending ability. The soldier responsible for the deed held him upright before he could fall, and the next thing the young tribesman knew, his body seized up in shock as a dagger burrowed into his flesh near his abdomen.

"QIRAHN!" Chumali screamed, her eyes caught in horror as her husband was impaled. Zhao reveled in the man's pain before he withdrew the dagger and jammed it yet again into the tribesman.

"Qirahn! Oh Spirits!" the woman broke into hysterical sobs, unable to run to him as a few other soldiers forcibly held her in place. Zhao then kicked the man aside, and the soldier behind the tribesman let him fall. They all watched as Qirahn writhed in pain, blood pooling around him.

"NO!" Chumali screamed, tears raiding her face as she squirmed in the soldiers' grips. One particular soldier was adamant in restraining her, but she managed to sink her teeth into his flesh and shoved him off as he howled in pain. She threw herself beside her husband, shaking him to keep him awake. "Qirahn, look at me! Please, heal yourself!" and she guided his palm to his wound in hopes that he would summon his healing glow, cursing herself for not being born a bender, but she wasn't given a chance to tend to him as Zhao grabbed her, yanked her back, and answered her attempt to fight back by striking her across the face, her cheek burning from the force of the slap along with the heat. Qirahn yelled from his searing pain, fury, and anguish over his inability to defend his lover. He tried to get back up only to topple back against the ice, finding his body racked with pain.

"You're lucky my men didn't incinerate him on the spot," Zhao said to her. "Satisfy me tonight, and you just might be able to save that weakling you call a husband."

"I-I'll be okay—GAAH!" Qirahn clutched his wound, "Run, Chumali, get out of here!"

Another soldier stomped mercilessly at the man's wounds in response to the defiance, extracting a painful yell.

"LET HIM GO!" Chumali howled as Zhao grabbed her by her hair and pulled her towards him. The admiral then turned to his men, who decided to shut Qirahn's mouth by grabbing at him and throwing him in the water. The tribesman splashed into the canal, the water tainted with his blood. He flailed, attempting to swim but finding it difficult with his consciousness flailing.

"Please, somebody help! Someone help my husband, PLEASE!" But Chumali was quickly silenced by another slap, followed by another. Through her tears, she watched her husband float along in the distance, the very little energy he had left put to use as he grabbed weakly at a docked gondola in the distance. He hid behind one of the gondolas so he wouldn't be seen, flashing her a desperate look. Go, he mouthed, blood seeping profusely through his tunic. I'll be fine.

With a prayer to the Spirits, Chumali snarled at the admiral and spat in his face, and in the brief flicker of distraction, butted against his head with all the force she could muster. She dodged an incoming blow from another soldier and kicked another in the groin before taking off.

Bloodshot eyes that watched from the distance fell to a close, bloodied fingers slipping from their hold on the gondola. The young tribesmen uttered Tui's name before slipping back into the water.

Yue was barely two hours into her sleep when she was suddenly jerked awake. By what, exactly, she was not sure; there was no noise, no commotion. Just an… instinct that she could not explain, a feeling of being startled by something inexplicably yet horribly wrong.

Maybe I'm just stressed.

Or maybe she wasn't being vigilant enough. Something seemed wrong, and it did not make sense in the moment, but the unsettled feeling in her heart only grew with each passing minute. She left her bed, donned her servant's uniform, and wandered the halls of the palace, tuning into the nature of the environment, the conversations of the overnight servants or a possible air of danger.

It was not long before one particular servant rushed into the palace, a panicked look on his face as he described to his comrades a horrific scene of what appeared to be fresh blood in the canal waters.

"Eh, somebody probably didn't skin a seal-buck properly, and it somehow ended up in the canal," a servant dismissed.

But the mere mention of such a detail was enough for Yue to hit the sidewalks. Just in case, she told herself as she raced through the inner sector and later entered the commoners' sector in the second ring, and all through her trip there, she saw people rushing towards the second sector. A large crowd was concentrated on a particular part of the sidewalk system, gaping into the water, and as she joined them, she, too, beheld the horror of what was extensive blood mingled with the water.

"Where is this coming from?!" she asked the bystanders.

"We don't know," spoke a tribeswoman, "And I don't know if this amounts to much, but I did notice a group of firebenders along with their admiral working on their ships by the docks. I was passing by a couple of minutes later, and they seemed to have abandoned their ship."

"We can't jump to conclusions—"

"But it's worth looking into. They had been verbally abusing our workers all night. The admiral supposedly threatened to stab a man earlier from what I've heard from my husband. I wouldn't be surprised if they did such a thing."

The uncomfortable churning in her chest only increased, tumbled out of its rhythm into a jolt of shock as a tribesman near the distant gondolas yelled, "Over here! There's a man severely wounded! He lost a lot of blood!"

Yue along with several observing tribefolk rushed over immediately. Yue was shocked to see a tribesman sprawled over, completely drenched and unconscious.

"He nearly drowned by the time I saw him," the tribesman explained as Yue felt the unconscious man's pulse. Her hands coated themselves in water within seconds and flew to the man's abdomen where he was impaled.

"I knew it!" the tribeswoman from earlier said. "It was those La-damn ashmakers!"

Yue called out to the man, who was just now starting to stir from the impact of the healing. Granted he still lost a lot of blood, most of which could not be recovered, but that was a matter of post-healing recuperation, for she had managed to subtly bend the blood that pooled around him back into his body, working to purify it as she spoke. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me? Sir?"

"Tui…Tui…Merciful Tui…"

"Sir? I'm here to help!"

The man huffed and shivered before opening his eyes very slightly.

"Are you alright? Can you see me?" Yue asked, holding up four fingers, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Who did this to you, man?" the tribesman who saved him pried.

A tear escaped his eye as his eyelids drooped. On the verge of falling back out of consciousness, his bloodied finger pointed in a particular direction, particularly the direction that led to the Moon Temple, "Ch-Ch-Chumali…please…"

The night sky reverberated with shrill feminine cries for help. The air was thick, hanging heavy from the injustice plastered over the tundra. It was a miracle as to how Chumali dodged the admiral's occasional fireballs, thankful for the harsh Arctic winds that played a huge part in putting out the flames sparking at Zhao's fists, and yet, it was not enough to stop the man.

"You savages should feel honored to be used by the superior race!"

Chumali turned to several bystanders for help, rousing them from their sleep with her desperate cries, but they were too afraid to make a move thanks to the fiery menace that threatened to incinerate their loved ones. One tribesman was bold enough to send a tendril in Zhao's direction only to have a powerful flame collide with it and turn it into steam. Zhao had grabbed hold of the tribesman's old father, threatening to burn him alive if interrupted in his pursuit. As a consequence, all tribefolk shut themselves in their igloos, and Chumali was left to pound on every door of every igloo, her efforts amounting to no result apart from terrified inhabitants keeping their doors sealed.

"Might as well give up the fight," Zhao's large hand grabbed her by her throat. She kicked and screamed as she was thrown against the ice, her fur coat ripped off of her. The freezing air bit at her skin as she reached for a handful of snow and jammed it against his face, sending a kick to his chest as she scrambled to her feet and continued to run. He sent more flames behind her, angling them to where they didn't ruin her appearance but instilled in her just the amount of fear he felt was necessary.

With all doors closing in on her dilemma, she sought refuge amid a familiar path leading to the only one who could possibly save her at this point: the Great Spirit of Justice Himself enshrined in the Moon Temple. She burst into tears once more, uttering a million prayers to the Ocean Spirit as she raced up the steps, relieved that the door was open. There had to be someone inside.

"HELP, PLEASE! Someone help me!" she yelled, but Zhao was on her heels; he reached for her ankle and tugged at her on her way up, resulting in her falling and hitting her head against the top step. She could barely see the expression on his face in the haze of her tear-filled vision; she dabbed at her eyes and the blood trickling from the side of her face, sliding back from the top of the step to the entrance of the temple as Zhao leered at her in victory.

It was all but a game to him, really. Her fear turned him on, and he wouldn't dare to turn such a face to ash. Not before he indulged in her anyway.

"You sure do play hard to get, don't you?"

Chumali hurriedly looked around and spotted only a pot of budding arctic plants. She grabbed hold of it and held it above her head, ready to throw if need be, "Stay back! Or else!"

"Oh, I'm terrified, alright," Zhao continued stepping forward, and even when she threw the pot at him, he sent a flame in its direction, disintegrating it. In the meantime, she heaved her body against the doors and crawled inside as fast as she could, her hand, smeared with the blood of her husband, clawing at the sacred ground as the admiral went on with grabbing every part of her wardrobe that he could reach and tore bits and pieces of it off of her skin. He ripped off a considerable portion of her pant leg in the midst of her struggle before receiving a kick to his chest. Her now-bare foot happened to be sliced by the sharp Fire Nation insignia pin that was attached to the man's belt; she groaned in pain but nevertheless pulled herself up. Before she could slam the temple doors to a close on his face, he broke through them, and she fell back on the marble floor. He maneuvered the flames to where he set her pants on fire, and she rolled over the floor and screamed in her efforts to put the flames out, the majority of her pants completely ruined and burnt, exposing her thighs and legs as the rest of the meager cloth peeled away.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Zhao attempted to tear off her shirt but missed as she kept sliding away. She looked around frantically and grabbed more objects to throw in his direction.

"Clearly you're out of ideas," Zhao dodged most of the objects and lit the others aflame, and he stepped forward like a predator who has his prey cornered.

"Please," she sobbed, "Leave me alone…Please—"

"Oh I will, don't worry. Just satisfy me tonight," tugging harshly at the front of her tunic, succeeding in tearing the top part of the shirt, "and you'll be sent on your way."

With no other move left for her to make, the tribeswoman raced into the inner sanctum and climbed up the steps, one hand pressed over her now-exposed breast, her feet painting the steps with her blood. She wrapped her arms around the Aninnialuk idol and buried her face into the marble, hiding her chest from view, simultaneously quivering like a small child hiding from a stranger behind the protective frame of her father.

"What's a piece of stone gonna do?" he bellowed, grabbing her hand and attempting to pull her out into the open.

"Nunaatip Ataata! Ikajunga!" Father of the Tribe! Help me!

"He'll just be enjoying the show!" Zhao grabbed her by her hair and tugged at her again, and when she refused to comply, he slammed his hand hard against her cheek, "After all, even your gods do nothing but fuck!"

"NO!" she screamed, holding tightly onto the idol, "LA! Aninnialuk!" Great Spirit! "La, please! I have no one but You!"

"If you won't comply, then I'll make you, you fucking savage!"

"LA! Help me, La! My god! Nunatsuip Itluatsaik!" High Judge of the World!

Zhao surrendered himself to his anger and impatience, his fists acting by instinct. He thrust his fist in the direction of the woman, sending his flames against her. Her tunic caught fire, evoking blood-curdling screams surely mimicking the deathly howls at the entrance of La's hell. However, Chumali never actually felt her skin burn, for a large bucketful of water came crashing on top of her form, the torrents so abundant that they instantly extinguished the flames, swallowing every bit like an ocean wave eating up a lit match.

The blazing burns that were to be expected were juxtaposed sharply by sheer cool water, leaving her in a state of shock and confusion, but when she came to her senses, she saw that she was still alive, that her skin was intact and that she was breathing, that even though her clothes had disintegrated, her existence had not. Moments afterward, she took note of a tall, built figure slamming the said bucket across Zhao's face with a war cry that was like no other and brought a chill down her spine. Zhao was sent flailing across the temple like a rat-fly flicked by a waterball bat; he hollered and landed against the opposite wall, his head clashing harshly against the black marble. The admiral roared in humiliation, his eyes flaring in rage as he caught sight of the Southern prince.

"I-Isuma…" Chumali, realizing that her shirt and bindings had also peeled away, didn't finish the word; she stepped out of her shock and scrambled behind the Aninnialuk idol to preserve her modesty, hugging the idol close to her body, trying and failing to cover herself with the few pieces of cloth which were also burnt and obliterated. She wept against the idol, draping her arms over the marble, shivering in her drenched state. Sokka unclipped his overcoat and cloak and handed them to her without looking in her direction; she gratefully accepted them, drying her eyes and backing away with the robes before disappearing into a storage room, fumbling to clothe herself and keep warm.

"You snow savage!" Zhao barked. "The nerve you have to lay your filthy hands on me?!"

"THE NERVE YOU HAVE TO LAY YOUR HANDS ON MY CHILDREN IN MY TEMPLE!"

My children. My temple. Chumali jumped, her heart nearly stopping; the voice was a combination of man and wolf, and it rattled the temple with its intensity. She peeked from the room she was in, noticing that the Southern prince's glaring eyes were churning, slowly seeping into a stark black color— boiling embers that burned with rage. The warrior appeared at that moment as if he wasn't human. As if his rage wasn't merely human. And as he let out another war cry— this time emitting it in much higher octaves— the harmony of man and wolf couldn't have been more overt. Chumali's quivering hands joined together in prayer, tears streaming down her face. "L-La…"

The prince's boom caught Zhao off guard, and in his distraction, he couldn't save himself as murderous rage flitted across Sokka's face and made him charge forward. The warrior didn't mind the flames that Zhao conjured up last minute. Sokka's arm thrust aside the admiral's aim, which resulted in the flame swiveling in another direction. The Southern prince's hand enclosed Zhao's throat, nearly draining the life out of him. Zhao kicked and writhed, his roar eclipsed by the warrior's grip before squeezing out as a squeak once he was thrown aside to the ground. He coughed violently, not even given the time to tend to his throat before Sokka clawed at him again, grabbing him by his topknot and flinging him back against the opposite wall. The admiral felt every inch of his body instantly becoming bruised, but he still clambered up to his feet, blood pouring down his cheek from the wound to his head. Even then, he didn't give up the fight and emitted blazing fire from his fists, surrounding the incensed prince in a ring of flame.

It was an encounter that mimicked the struggle between man and beast, that resembled the crossroads of justice: the Fire soldier looking to tame, the warrior determined to defend his territory. Sokka charged forward with another wolfish growl. He torpedoed through the flames, black eyes gleaming under the moonlight. It was a move that caught Zhao off guard, that challenged his ability greatly. He let loose another blast of fire, which succeeded this time in making contact with the warrior. The blistering cold of his skin was met with decimating heat that left the skin near his forehead and temple charred, but it was put out by a brush of the warrior's hand and the harsh gust of wind that followed with his sudden leap forward. He pinned down the admiral and swung blows at him left and right. Zhao struggled to take a breath, his defiance heavily wounded with the warrior's every punch, every speck of blood that trickled from his mouth. Zhao was then able to see the pitch darkness of the warrior's eyes, the utter lack of distinction between his pupils and his irises, and while that sent a creeping feeling through him, it didn't stop him from fighting back.

With a yell, he shoved Sokka back and launched more fire in his direction. Sokka dodged it and grabbed Zhao's arm, giving it a sudden, violent twist that sent the Fire Nationer wailing.

"AAHH! GAAAAAAHHHHH! WAIT!" Zhao yowled, "You want her, too, don't you? That's what this is really about, isn't it?! W-We can come to a compromise. You can have her first, and then—!"

Another incensed growl followed by several kicks to his pressure points which sent the admiral's knees buckling and brought him back to the floor, rendering his attempts at bending useless. The admiral nevertheless readied himself for the next blow to come, putting forth his best efforts in lunging atop the warrior, pinning him near the steps of the altar in the inner sanctum. He gave him a maniacal glare, drawing a dagger from inside of his boot and pressing it against the isumataq's neck.

"Posing as a god? Disgusting. You're nothing but a weakling. The epitome of filth. Your people are filth, this temple is filth, your princess is filth! You wallow in the muck hailed by the cavemen you call your ancestors. The divine right to rule is ours!"

Another roar left the warrior, his bloodshot eyes screaming in tandem with his voice. And this time, the cry was not at all human. With a backward swing of his arm, he grabbed hold of the large Aninnialuk and lifted it with one hand. As Zhao was caught by bewilderment over the beastly growl, he was met with a smash of the heavy marble against his head. The impact threw him to the side, ripping out a howl from his lungs. Blood was splattered onto the isumataq's hands in addition to bathing the justice-seeking Aninnialuk, which he set aside, glaring down at the admiral.

Zhao felt his vision blur significantly from the blow, and everything around him appeared as if it was merely a product of a fever dream. In that reprieve, the isumataq grabbed hold of the bloodied Fire Nation insignia and drew out the admiral's belt with a vicious yank. Through the haze of his pain, the admiral's arrogance was sucked away as he saw before him in place of the prince— enshrouded in a cloud of delirium— a human figure with the head of a wolf, bearing robes the hue of an ocean at midnight. He managed to slide back, keeping away from the Southern prince-like creature, his heart rate increasing from the impending fear that he would never admit to.

"Your days of strutting like a pompous hyena-fox are over," came the unearthly growl as the isumataq wrapped the belt around his palm enough to get a good grip. Zhao shook his head and tried to slide back further but failed to take control of the situation, paralyzed with pain as he reached the entrance of the temple. Chumali emerged from the shadows she'd taken refuge in, glaring at Zhao with a thirst for vengeance that only seemed to encourage the Southern prince. At first, it seemed to Zhao that she was either indifferent to the man's wolfish appearance or did not see the same thing he was seeing.

"Kill him," came her quivering command as she glanced at the isumataq, "Kill him, La!"

"No…s-stay back," Zhao choked out, "I'm the right-hand man of Lord Ozai—!"

A whip descended painfully onto his skin, the sharp insignia tearing through his flesh.

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM, LA!"

Another whip slashed against the admiral as he choked out another yell and slipped down the steps of the temple, landing face-down into the snow. Some of his senses jolted from the rush of adrenaline, and in spite of not being able to clearly see, he stumbled to his feet and hit the snow. He couldn't run very far with the wielder of the whip trailing close behind him, increasing the intensity of his blows with every vengeful scream and sob of the tribeswoman.

"KILL THAT BASTARD, LA! He tried to kill my husband! KILL HIM!"

Zhao picked up the pace and ran as fast as he could in his helpless state, trying and failing to emit fire thanks to his blocked chi. A mere glimpse of the Moon Temple sent shivers down his spine, but what was most intolerable was the sight of the wolfish creature trailing after him. Zhao couldn't keep his fear bottled up for long, for the warrior was at his heels, his growls seeming to rip the sky apart.

Meanwhile, upon hearing desperate, deathly cries, those who sought refuge in the safety of their igloos peeked out into the sidewalks, surprised to see that the path paved with the suffering of the innocent woman was now traced by the staggering footsteps of her offender. And chasing him down and whipping the dignity out of the Fire Nation scum was a wild and enraged Sokka, his eyes bloodshot and cries bloodthirsty. Apart from pain, Zhao felt the impending waves of humiliation crash down on him as those who feared him suddenly began cheering and hollering in support of the prince.

"End him!"

"Whip the yakshit outta him, Isumataq!"

"Go, Prince Sokka!"

The tribefolk erupted in cheers beneath the moonlit night, chanting for justice as Zhao, after repeatedly toppling into the snow, scrambled back up to his feet, his disheveled appearance bringing about victorious laughs and additional hollers from the bystanders. Some onlookers, however, grew intimidated by the look on Sokka's face and kept their distance. All in all, the tribefolk looked on as the Southern prince mercilessly struck the Fire Nation admiral, humbling him in front of the increasing crowd. It was a wonder as to how Zhao managed to keep up with the beatings and still find a way to escape, now reduced to nothing more than a misshapen mess of a person as he hastened away into the neck of the Jungqiran Forest. At that point, none of the tribefolk dared to venture that far. That is, before they found they couldn't stop Zhao's inferiors from trailing after the two. The Fire soldiers raced behind the prince, yelling and shooting fireballs in his direction.

"We need to get help!" a tribesman yelled. "Benders, look out for the prince! Nonbenders, we need to inform the guards!"

A few nonbenders headed in the direction of the palace on the lookout for Loyalist guards as a couple of waterbenders rushed in the direction of the forest, but the waterbenders found that they couldn't venture further thanks to a sudden onset of mist that clouded their vision entirely. They stopped dead in their tracks, unable to make out where they were and whether they had actually set foot in the forest. The tribesmen tried to bend the mist out of the way, finding that their efforts were mysteriously failing as if someone else was in charge.

They all simultaneously froze, turning to each other. Lady?

Deep in the heart of the woods, Sokka found that the footsteps trailing behind him had surrounded him completely. Flames danced at the fingertips of Zhao's minions, and they attempted to close in on him.

"Stop him! Stop that wolf demon!"

Zhao's crazed yells made no sense to the soldiers and even alarmed them with their ridiculousness, but their priority remained subduing the prince. Sokka's feral look did not waver in the slightest; if anything, he was eager to lunge forward and take down the firebender nearest him. The rest continued to wave fire in the prince's face, attempting to disable him. Somewhere in the back of the soldiers' more logical brains were the consequences that would come with them seriously injuring or killing a member of Water Tribe royalty, but given their self-proclaimed superiority imparted to them by their fool of a leader, they, too, inherited the foolishness and ended up losing all restraint.

"FIRE! Use more fire!" Zhao bellowed, cowering behind a group of trees as the Fire soldiers attempted to jump the prince all at once. Sokka managed to block several fire blasts but ended up taking some directly to his arms and elbows, all in all having his tunic ripped off in the tussle, the winds biting through his undershirt. And despite the burns to his skin, the Arctic gusts came to his aid, effectively extinguishing the flames. At one point, he wound the belt around one particular soldier, yanking him backward and jamming at his chi points, later lifting him up and throwing him in the direction of the soldiers, causing them all to topple down. Even then, the soldiers pulled themselves up and charged back at him, eventually facing the same fate, their chis blocked.

And in that moment when the soldiers were rendered useless, the loudest roar yet escaped from his mouth. It rattled the trees and intensified the winds and nearly shattered the ice beneath his feet. It also widened Yue's eyes as she halted by a group of arctic willows, watching the scene unfold.

What was least expected was that the call was answered. By other growls— several other growls— radiating from behind the soldiers in the opposite direction, mimicking his exact tone. The fallen soldiers snapped their attention backward, their stomachs dropping upon seeing a wolf step out. The wolf was accompanied by another, then another from a separate direction.

"Heinous crimes are deserving of heinous sentences, and for scum like you, death is too merciful of a punishment," Sokka growled at them. "Every day for the rest of your long lives, you'll suffer a fate worse than death. You'll be consumed by fear and unbearable pain. You'll spend your life running and will never escape, and your manly organs that you pamper with your corruption will become your very curses!" Jutting his head in the direction of the cowering admiral, "And you, an insult to Agni's glory. You will be numb to all pleasures, robbed of peace and sleep. Just the thought of water, woman, and wolf will cripple you with terror! You will live your life in anguish and pain to the point where you crave death over life!"

The sky churned, moonlight hiding behind the clouds, darkness reigning in.

"THIS IS MY JUDGMENT," the Southern leader howled, "AND NO FORCE IN THE UNIVERSE CAN UNDO IT!" And with a slap of the belt against the snow, the wolves, also undergoing a darkening of their irises, growled in synchronization, devoured the unspoken command and launched themselves forward, clawing away at the frightened soldiers. The leader of the pack pounced atop Zhao, sinking its teeth into his towering figure.

Sokka issued another war cry, this time one that sounded much more human. It was in the midst of that chaos that Yue snapped out of her shock and grabbed hold of his unburnt arm. She tried to shake him out of his furious stupor, all the while processing the horror, "Isumataq!"

The pitch blackness of his irises then wavered before disappearing, going unnoticed beneath the clouds that pooled over the moonlight. A splitting headache followed by the sting of his burns brought him out of his state of high intensity. He grabbed his aching head, left to sink out of his trance as the chaos unfolded before him, and to add to it, snow pounded down against them, intensifying the howl of the winds. Yue's hands settled on Sokka's shoulders, keeping him upright.

"We need to go, let's go!"

He kept crying out, his anger threatening to consume him, but her grip on him was firm.

"Sokka…Sokka, look at me." Her hand tilted his face to where he met her eyes. He hissed from the burn at his temple, settling down only when her water-coated hand brushed against the burn, cooling the skin significantly.

"It's okay. Calm down. It's really okay, I promise…"

It took him a few more moments to comprehend that the touch he felt belonged to the dronningi. His rage gradually came to a halt. He huffed for breath, suddenly feeling highly exhausted as she tugged at his wrist, pulling him along quickly before they became the wolves' victims next. It was better to leave the situation to the tribefolk that were to soon follow.

On their way back, they pieced together what they knew, and they mutually harbored inconceivable anger over the situation. The crimes a high-ranking representative of the Fire Nation could do in one night— it was appalling that the tensions between the two nations boiled down to influencing someone to stoop so low in moral character.

"As if we don't have enough crimes against our sister just in the homeland," Yue muttered, her voice tight with rage, "Now we need some foreigner to add to that list?"

"He's despicable," his voice was now several octaves lower. It nearly drove me insane. That blubbersucker had crossed all the lines, and I just lost it."

"You really had them on a run." By which she thought was him purposely posing as La as he claimed he sometimes did for a harsher result. She didn't witness, however, the change in his eyes.

"I guess…" Looking at her, oblivious to his own "La-esque behavior", "But real talk, there's gonna be a shitstorm soon. As soon as daylight hits."

"Well you won't be weathering it alone."

By the time they made it back to the Moon Temple, Imona, accompanied by Sanka and a few other Revivalists, caught Yue's attention. Imona didn't glare at Sokka every few seconds for once; it appeared as if her suspicion and hatred for the prince were glazed over by the sight of the burn scars on his arms and part of his forehead. The impact of the fire attacks left the isumataq's pants tattered and his undershirt a burnt mess that chipped off in bits and pieces, his bare chest covered solely by the princess's cloak. He also certainly looked like he weathered the ordeal. Indeed, he had taken great risks, and whatever kind of man Imona thought of him to be, he was a hero tonight, and even she had to admit that.

"Those blubberfucks have been taken to the infirmary," Imona told them. "We'll have to notify the Fire Lord once dawn hits."

"I know," Yue nodded in acknowledgment, "What about Zhao?"

"I don't know. He seems like he's lost it."

"He's barely conscious, but he's laughing like a maniac," Sanka said. "Calling himself a savage-slayer. He's in considerable pain, too, it seems."

Yue sighed, turning to the prince, "Do you still feel the burns?"

"No, just the occasional tingles."

"I'll bring some herbs to help with that. Why don't you wait for me in the storage room? It's freezing out here."

He nodded and attempted to step inside, instead blocked by the figure of his father who just then stepped out of the doorway, the look on his face nowhere near being anxious or concerned. As much as Hakoda loathed being in the premises of the Akna's sanctuary, it appeared he had crossed the boundary he didn't want to cross just to see his worst suspicions manifest: his shirtless son covered in the princess's cloak, a sight rivaled by street talk of how he ran from the temple in defense of another woman, who would've been naked as the day she was born had it not been for his clothing shielding her.

And he lost all control over himself. "There he comes, the man of the Water Tribe," he said coldly. "Pardon me for interrupting your intimate sessions with the ladies of the tribe, great Prince of the South, but I just wanted to know if you have more plans of acting like a hooligan and putting the family name to utter shame. Placing the country in danger by attacking important officials, consorting with various lovers, perhaps—?"

"I didn't do anything wrong for you to yap your tongue away at me," Sokka rasped.

"Even with all the evidence right in front of my eyes? Seriously, Sokka, at this point, I wonder if the reason why you felt so comfortable with the idea of not marrying is your ongoing debauchery with women during your travels. Here we were thinking you were an innocent blubberpuss, but that might not be the case after all. Only the Spirits know what you've really been up to in the Earth Kingdom streets."

Sokka bit his tongue in spite of the insult, feeling a sharp pang of pain and anger in his chest, "Say whatever you want, think whatever you want. A lot of gunk's been leaving your mouth since the day you found out about my feelings for the princess." Hardening his look, "I've come to realize I don't care what you think is true. She knows who I am, and that's enough."

Enraged, Hakoda raised his hand against the isumataq, eyes flaring like blue fire, but his hand froze as soon as the princess stepped in front of Sokka, her baby blue eyes piercing straight through Hakoda's soul. All attempts at disciplining his son left the chief, then, reminding him that they were in a public setting. He lowered his hand, harboring conflict in his gaze.

"You dishonor me, Sokka," he said, his voice lowered. "It is a miracle I haven't disowned you yet."

With that, he began to walk away only to hear the sharp, loud voice of the princess trail behind, "Oh Imona, don't you think it's helpful if some people learned about the situation first? Instead of jumping to conclusions and doubting their own son's character?"

"I agree," came her friend's response.

"I mean, any other man in some people's place right now would be proud to call Sokka his son, but some people seem to be fixated on the idea that he's some sort of casanova. Do you think they're that blinded by society that they can't even see the burn scars on their son's body?"

And it was then that Hakoda's harsh demeanor melted, enabling him to turn around and truly take notice of the burns that indeed graced his son's skin.

"I know that deep down, those people really do care. I just hope they don't concern themselves with such rumors further," the princess said. "Even the most lust-crazed of men haven't yet reached the level of having sex in literal fire. What do you say, Imona?"

"I couldn't agree more, Your Highness."

Hakoda grew flustered but could do nothing other than walk away with complete disgust. He wasn't going to take this from someone who permanently tainted the temple, and furthermore, he had a lot more things to dread over, such as what awaited the Water Tribe, particularly the South from the actions of his oldest.

Sokka watched his father leave, swallowing his hurt as bitterness crossed his face. He had stopped expecting appreciation from his folks years ago, for under Pakku's domestic regime, appreciation wasn't a thing when most needed. Still, the Southern prince felt he wasn't wrong in having the expectation that his father would take his side or at least listen to him.

Turned out that was too much to ask.

Her palms, coated with herbal pastes, went back to work on healing his burnt skin. Her touch glided down from his shoulders, down his biceps and elbows before reaching his palms. The burns were thankfully first-degree, so within a couple of minutes, the scars dissipated, but the small streak of charred skin near his temple was more persistent. She decided to place a bit of the paste there and seal the area with a wrap.

"Keep it on for a while. It may help with the scarring."

He nodded. "Yeah, for sure."

"I can't guarantee that it will clear everything. It's not extremely bad at all, but there may be a few centimeters worth of damage. It may very likely leave a tiny scar."

"Eh, it'll be okay."

"It will be," she affirmed. "It's a mark of valor. A million times more attractive than flawless skin. And every time you look at yourself in the mirror, you will be reminded of the goodness of your heart that earned you that scar."

He beamed at her, feeling her hands rest on his cheekbones, tracing his right jaw to cool the tingle he felt there. He sighed, "That feels really good."

"Where else are you burned? I bet it'll help more."

"Nowhere. This is it."

"I can get Junguk for you," she offered, "If it's necessary—"

"No, it's fine. Really, this is it."

She took her seat beside him, helping to straighten out his wolf-tail, "It's truly sublime how the universe works. If you hadn't been here at the right time, that woman wouldn't have been saved." Looking at him, "Tell me something. What were you even doing here? How did you even get in?"

Blinking, "Oh, I…I was just…" averting his eyes from her face so he wouldn't zero in on her lips, "...cleaning up a bit. Osha mentioned that she keeps an extra key in the soil inside the plant pot…"

"You were cleaning without me?"

"Yeah, I wanted to make it easier for you. So you don't have to spend so much time here and have the time to go back and relax. Since you haven't been sleeping too well…"

Her eyes softened at his thoughtfulness, a pleasant warmth bubbling in her chest, but before she could say anything, the conversation was interrupted by a distant, disrespectful banging of the temple doors before an abrupt creak followed, indicating that one of the doors had swung open. Yue frowned, taking a moment to briefly open the door and peek out. From the other end, a voice bellowed in tandem with its owner's entry, "An insult to the Water Tribe race! A threat to our ritual sanctity! She desecrated this temple with her blood, that good-for-nothing wench!"

Sokka glared, also taking a look outside the room: a middle-aged man had barged inside, yelling at Chumali, who was held protectively in the arms of her husband.

"There's no difference between you and that filthy Akna! No difference whatsoever! At least she wasn't aware of the sin she committed! You knowingly entered this premises and smeared your sweat and blood at the sacred altar!" the man screamed. "You entered the inner sanctum and embraced that sacred idol without an inch of clothing on you! And then you have the nerve to sport another man's wardrobe! You could've been selling yourself out to that man, who knows—?!"

"Mind your tongue!" Qirahn roared. "Another word about my wife, and I won't be standing still!"

"Oh shut up, you imbecile," the man snapped. "Defending this minx! This is what she gets for going against my word! I told her to stay in the home and marry the man of my choice, but instead she went off and secretly married a bitch of a man who wants to heal for a living like a woman! Not only did she bring eternal damnation upon the family but now she's the talk of the town! Every tribesman will come knocking on my door, asking for her late-night services! I won't be able to show my face in society after this!"

"You're misunderstanding the situation!" the girl screamed at her father, her entire being shaking with fury.

"You were dead to me the moment you flaunted around this place in the wardrobe of another man! If you were so insistent on your chastity, you should've jumped into the fire and burned to death! Then at least your soul would've been cleansed!"

"Oh wow," Sokka interrupted, stepping out of the shadows, "I didn't know throwing someone into the fire would cleanse their souls of impurity. Why don't we give it a try?" And with a harsh yank of the man's wolf tail, the prince swung the man's face close to the nearest torch, stopping just before slamming his face into the flame. The man screamed until his voice began to give out, ending with a desperate, "LET GO OF ME!"

To which Sokka shoved him aside. The man gasped, catching his breath before howling, "YOU! Being a prince, you have the nerve to—!"

"Yes, I have the nerve to do whatever I fucking want," Sokka spat back. "You call yourself a father? Instead of reaching out and comforting your daughter for the trauma she's been through the past few hours, you're sitting here talking about burning her alive so her soul would be cleansed?"

"You have no right to get involved with our personal affairs!" the man bellowed, "And even if you must pry your nose into our business, this only happened because she stepped outside of the home!"

"This didn't happen because she wanted to make a life for herself! This only happened because you didn't let her make a life for herself," he retorted. "The abuse in your household drove her out! Had you been a caring, understanding father, she would have no reason to come out this late at night in an elope attempt!"

"Anyone can throw in unwanted advice, but unlike you, I have a god. I belong to a community and have actual morals, and I follow the rules laid down by my god and my community—"

"Here we fucking go, ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to your favorite play, 'Dumbasses and Their Distorted Deities'," he slammed his foot down, rattling the altar, "You have a whole-ass country celebrating the fall of a horrible man who nearly burned your daughter alive, and you're standing here conjuring up an affair between your daughter and me because I simply gave her something to cover herself with? Right after she narrowly escaped sexual assault? Since when did being a decent human being turn someone into a manwhore? Since when did receiving help turn someone into a prostitute? You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. You should be ashamed to call yourself a human being, let alone a man!"

"It is a sin to enter the sacred premises naked, let alone use an idol as a covering—!"

"OHHH, so your daughter is horrible for trying to protect herself in a sacred place, but the man who attacked her in a sacred place is a fucking demigod?"

"I never said that idiot was a demigod—!"

"And honestly, Mr. I-Should-Be-Rotting-In-La's-Hell-Right-Now, do you really think your high and mighty god wouldn't make room for someone like your daughter in a desperate situation like this?" Sokka challenged, nearly summoning the darkness of his eyes again, "If such a god exists, that La that you speak of would really be a copy of you. A self-absorbed blubberdick who supports killing one's own family for honor and prefers death over preservation—"

"RESPECT, ISUMATAQ! I've heard ENOUGH—!"

"I have no respect for blubberfaces like you and your idiotic yakshit—"

"Don't you dare insult the Purity Laws. The consequences will be severe, especially for nonbelievers like you!" Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small pocketbook, "The Book of Purity is the sacred Word uttered by La Himself! These are the imperishable laws of the divine! A guide exemplifying the roles and responsibilities of ideal tribesmen and tribeswomen!"

"This thing right here?" Sokka raised his eyebrows as he glanced at the tiny book, "This little booklet is the imperishable law of your god?"

"You'd know if you looked at scripture even once in your life," the man retorted.

"Hm, fair point…" And out of nowhere, Sokka grabbed the book from the man's hand. With no hesitation at all, he threw the book in the direction of the nearest torch positioned on a sconce on the wall. The fire seemed to gratefully accept the offering whereas everyone present in the temple gawked at him with complete shock. Chumali's father screeched like a hyena-banshee, tearing at his hair.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" he shook, "WHAT HAVE YOU…?!"

Yue, especially, was astonished by the prince's move, as the act of burning a book hailed by nearly all of Water Tribe society as sacred was not something easy; rather, it was unparalleled by anything else from the context of the highly religious Water Tribe society and culture, particularly the Northern division. Those who criticized the book had never mustered the courage to express their dissent in this way to this day, and this was true of even the rare nonbelieving patrons throughout history.

And yet, at the destruction of a toxic message, Yue could not help but feel an indescribable thrill, a sudden charge of bliss that swooped through her, making the hairs on her body stand upright. She shivered, tempted to choke out a laugh of pure joy but somehow held it in. She felt affirmed, very much so at this very moment. Never had the presence of La, the demonstration of justice in its most raw form, been more overt.

"YOU INFIDEL!" the man screeched at Sokka, disregarding all need to exercise respect for a member of higher authority, "How dare you! You will be cursed by La! You'll suffer eternal doom!" Raging at his daughter next, "This is all YOUR fault! Had you not desecrated this place and made yourself impure, I would've thrown you into the fire myself—AAAHHHH!" the man was sent crashing to the floor from a weighty strike of the isumataq's hand against his cheek. The tribesman gawked at Sokka with a look of wild incredulity.

"Shut it," Sokka hissed, "Another word and I'll really throw your ass in the fire. You and your little book can rot together in hell." Turning to Sanka and the accompanying Revivalists, all of whom were still in shock, "Throw this heathen in prison. He's a menace to his family and to society."

"That man needs to chill out," Imona shook her head, "He went from thrashing the Fire Nation admiral to burning a religious book in just one day. If he doesn't keep his britches up, people are gonna pelt his ass. You might wanna…" Imona trailed off, taking note of how the princess was paying her no attention whatsoever. Yue was rather taken by the isumataq instead, her eyes glued to him, the rarest of upward curves dangling at her lips.

Imona blinked, "O-kay then."