Gladiator

by Seyary-Minamoto

In a world where the Avatar wasn't found, the Fire Nation took over two nations and they strive to overcome the last one. Water Tribe warrior Sokka seeks to fight for his people's rights, but he's captured by his enemies. His life is no longer in his hands as he fights as a Gladiator, and his fate will eventually depend on the Fire Nation Princess, who needs him for her own ends...

374. Chapter 374: The Final Battle 4

The Final Battle of the Hundred Year War

4

It felt like a lifetime had passed since she had last seen those blue eyes. Since she had actually witnessed his rage and fury to the extent she did now… no. The truth was she had never seen it this way before. It was stronger, colored by more than anger: bitterness, betrayal, outrage, confusion, frustration, despair…

She had elicited every single one of those feelings in him. She had caused him the grief that now powered every step he took as he raced towards her.

Once, they had been indestructible. Once, they had risen high above everyone, whether on the back of a magnificent dragon, or figuratively, as they climbed the ranks of a long-gone system that had more meaning, and just so, less importance, than they had ever truly realized. Once, they had stood side by side and claimed all the victories that were theirs for the taking.

But it hadn't always been quite so smooth, quite so easy. Their journey had seen countless stumbles, conflicts, missteps on both their parts. They had hurt each other, they had misunderstood each other, they had resented each other, they had mistrusted each other…

At the very beginning, they had simply been a means to an end for one another. A victory would have allowed her to return home as a successful, valid, proven heir to her father… a victory would have allowed him to prove to his father that he was ready to lead their people. Neither one claimed as much of a victory then as they had hoped to on the day when they first crossed paths, however. Her life had faced a small setback: his had damn near ended.

Their next encounter was in no small way colored by that initial clash: he hadn't wanted to lower his guard, he had been convinced that she merely sought to destroy him… she had found his distrust irritating, but she had endured it, for she had a goal that was far more important than whatever his reservations might be. Together, even if their partnership was still uneasy, they had overcome the first fight against a foe and the first conflict between them, even if more were certain to arise later on. But little by little, they had learned to work together. Even after the stumbles and the crises where they had thought they would walk away from each other for good, they had found, eventually, a way forward.

They had made promises, countless ones. They had broken many of those, too. The first… their pledge to stifle all attraction and romantic feelings budding between them. At first, a necessary choice, an acknowledgement of what could have remained unspoken between them, but a resignation to never allow said feelings to fester beyond their control.

Their resolve had failed. Over and over, it failed. The reasons, the logic, for why this relationship was doomed well before it began did not change, but the two of them did: their hearts never failed to yearn and reach for each other, and the longer they worked together, the harder it was to resist the pull of something so much stronger than their willpower…

Their love had broken free, eventually. They had failed at their endeavor to control it, to restrain it. It had done away with all boundaries, and in so many regards, it had destroyed the chains that had remained bound across her soul, letting herself be truly vulnerable with someone who cherished and protected her with every ounce of his strength. Their bond had been so tight, so genuine, across all the hardships they faced, that it seemed it would never break…

And it wouldn't, on her end.

But she could only wonder if her choices had pushed him quite so far as to ensure that he would relinquish all those feelings, in the end. Perhaps he finally understood that she had never been worthy of him.

Her heart ached in ways he would never know as soon as he dropped off that bison, falling into place before her. There was no power in the world that could explain how she found the strength to raise her blade in his direction. That she could so much as speak, in all her anxiety, as her mask of perfection crumbled and yet she pretended it hadn't…

She couldn't show weakness. She shouldn't. If she did, he would hesitate. She couldn't let him do that. She needed him to remain resolute. To be as stubborn about his cause as she was about protecting the Fire Nation.

He was a better man than any she had known. Stronger, smarter, with greater compassion dwelling in his heart than she could possibly understand. Even if she failed him, he knew better than to hold her entire nation responsible for it, didn't he? He wouldn't hate the Fire Nation because of who she had become… but had she become anything different at all? Was this Azula, the one she represented now, all that distant from the one he had grown to love? She, too, had been ready to defend the Fire Nation at all costs. She, too, would have fought anyone to protect her people, just as she had stood up to her own father to demand explanations over Seethus's murder spree. She had never imagined he would become her enemy anew, not in this way… but that didn't change what she had to do. It didn't impact her beliefs.

It shouldn't change his, either.

He had to go for the kill. He had to fight to the end. The only way this battle would end, the only way their story would finally conclude, was for Sokka to reach the pinnacle he had been fighting for since they had first met: from being the hopeless, weak warrior whose greatest strength was his love for his people, he had finally taken all his best features and bolstered them beyond belief. Now he was powerful enough to contest the Fire Lord himself, to cut down any bending menace that might stand in his way…

He could defeat her.

He could kill her.

Azula's heart pounded in her chest: she cowardly hoped it would be a swift end.

After marching towards each other, she had jumped. Her fire burst from her feet. Sokka followed her with his wrathful glare as fire erupted in her right hand, while she brandished Wolf's Bane with her left.

It was twisted to find a familiarity in the melody of their clashing blades. To feel warmth surging inside her once he was a mere breath away.

She had missed him dearly. She had needed him so much more than she had ever wanted to accept. She had somehow learned to live her life without him… but she hadn't wanted to. She had never wanted that kind of future.

This wasn't the way they should have returned to each other's lives. His firm parry saw her bouncing back, creating a wheel of blue flames in the process, charged in the soles of her feet: she fired a blast of fire potently at him, and Sokka jumped back instinctively, letting the searing heat drift right past him…

Oh, that heat. What an unnerving sensation to be at the receiving end of those flames once again.

A tear spilled down his cheek as he gathered himself anew. As his grip on his weapons tightened. This wasn't the time to waver, to reminisce on the better days when he was facing one of the very worst, instead. The hopes of running into her arms, of taking her into his embrace, of smiling and sharing loving words with her upon their reunion had dwindled to nothingness, well before he so much as allowed himself to picture that possibility. It was all he had wanted, though… it was the one thing he had wished for. He had fought for his people, for the world, against a Fire Nation that needed to be stopped…

But all of that seemed to pale next to the possibility of being near her again. Her flames, cast towards him with a new burst, directed through Wolf's Bane, provided him with an opportunity to launch his boomerang through them…

And yet he didn't.

He snarled as he held back. As he jumped to the side, casting the projectile weapon after the flames were gone.

She would not condone any weaknesses. She would not forgive any restraint.

Azula launched herself into the air a second time, eyes blazing with intent. Sokka gritted his teeth: she could bend lightning if she cared to, but he would be able to snare it and redirect it. Surely she'd remember that…

Her arms rose into that position. He had seen it many times before.

She, too, hesitated then.

He could tell she changed her mind in midair. She spun on herself, launching another flurry of flames, weaker than usual, and he swatted them away with Space Sword before catching the boomerang that had failed to find its mark.

How many times had they sparred like this? How well had they learned each other's tells? He feinted to one side: she parried his sword when he attacked the way he always meant to. She saw right through him. She remembered his tricks, his favorite choices in battle, his rhythm, his speed…

He remembered hers, too. An utterly pathetic part of him, the one that didn't quite care whether they were fighting or making love, for they were together anew, rejoiced at the sight of her latest jump, as she spun with Wolf's Bane gripped in her left hand. No shivering. No failure to clasp the weapon properly. No sign of pain: her wound had healed.

What if it hadn't? Shouldn't he exploit the possibility that any attacks upon that shoulder might just…?

No. That was what she would have done. That was the smart choice, without a doubt.

But he couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. Not to her.

His hesitation cost him the first cut, as his dodging of Wolf's Bane was not swift enough: the blade slid under his arm's protection, drawing blood from his left shoulder.

The natural response to that would have been to pull back from that blade. To reject the pain. Sokka could have done as much… but he was no ordinary warrior. His unpredictability had always been one of his best assets.

His other hand, still gripping his boomerang, reached for hers. Panic spread across Azula's features when they touched.

He yanked her out of position, flinging her to a side of the Palace gardens fiercely enough for her to crash and roll over the terrains. She managed not to relinquish her hold on Wolf's Bane, even so: his blood spilled down his arm, but Sokka ignored it as he watched Azula jumping back to her feet, using the momentum of his toss to do so.

Who had taken the worse damage right now? Neither knew. Both their glares made it clear that neither was kidding around. Neither was backing down or restraining themselves for the other.

The awareness of how ferociously they were fighting dawned upon their unwilling public, just as well. Chan shuddered: the woman he had just seen stab the man she claimed to love couldn't possibly be what the General had said she was. There was no way the battle he was witnessing could be anything but genuine. Fear surged in his gut: the Gladiator was even more terrifying than he recalled him, of course… he had only seen him once, and he had already been powerful in incomprehensible ways. This, though…? Keeping Azula on her toes to this extent was no easy feat. Even if she had sprung back to her feet…

He glanced about himself: the leader of the Enforcers appeared paralyzed as she watched the battle. Renkai, too, didn't move an inch. Nobody dared… not on their side, and not on the Gladiator's, either.

From the air, Rui Shi seemed moments away from passing out. He paled, shivering, at the most distressing sight he could have seen: she wasn't fighting Sokka. She couldn't be… and yet those blue flames couldn't mean anything else.

Even Toph, still handling foes outside the Palace, could sense her presence by now. She snarled, fighting more fiercely than needed… wishing Sokka would knock sense into her. Hoping he'd be able to… for if he failed, she'd do it herself. She had needed to measure her strength against Azula anew eventually, of course she had… but this wasn't the way she wanted to do it. Not in these circumstances.

And yet nobody dared interfere. Nobody stepped into the battle. Nobody could. Even those who impulsively raised a hand towards a weapon saw themselves stopped by the caution of those beside them quickly.

The bond between a sponsor and a gladiator was always unique, for better or for worse. Some were nothing but a matter of cruelty, where a nightmarish master's entire purpose was to wield another life as a tool or weapon. They often exteriorized their frustrations by hurting the gladiator under their control, ever ready to punish them for reasons and excuses that would never justify their actions.

Then, there were those who worked as business partners, in a dynamic based on distance and respect, where both acted in their respective spheres of power and worked together for the sake of their progress in the Superior Gladiator League.

Some were friends, comrades-in-arms, allies who could laugh side by side, training together if the sponsor had combat knowledge, sharing life experiences with a partner who could bring new perspectives to the fore, with a wholly different outlook than the one the sponsor had known. Some were family, working together for a common goal, watching over each other fretfully, fearing seeing off their loved one to a dangerous, deadly ordeal that they might not come back from, if any mistakes were made…

Some were lovers, sometimes in secret, sometimes openly, if they had nothing to lose. Some would be involved in affairs solely for the sake of convenience, others for the sake of passing the time. Others fell in love deeply, and seeing each other off to battle became more difficult, more painful, upon every new fight they had to face…

There were countless bonds, each creating disparate possibilities, with varying distance, with increasing closeness, of so many different natures that none could ever hope to be the same as the other.

But perhaps no relationship between gladiators and sponsors had ever faced so many changes in its very core, transformed from deep animosity to the greatest of devotions, as that between the Blue Wolf and the Fire Nation Princess.

Even those who did not understand it had to back off. The gladiators, in particular, knew better than to interrupt. A duel of this nature was so much more than a matter of resolving the outcome of a battle… the Hundred Year War, surely, should appear to be an epic backdrop for a fight such as the one between their warring souls, but it still did not suffice. Nothing could.

They were the culmination of a world out of balance. The ultimate proof of what was wrong, in the end, in a system of segregation as profound, as disjointed, as incapable of reflecting upon itself as it was. Fire and water, they had learned, did not need to snuff each other out of existence… and yet the circumstances, the pressures, the cruelty of the world they lived in, urged them to do exactly that.

Azula spurred herself on to attack anew: her armor had taken the worst of her blow against the ground, but it had rattled her, nonetheless. She as good as hissed, but more of her voice poured into the sound than intended. With that poorly contained cry of desperation, she rushed back in, but this time, Sokka moved towards her and jumped as high as his legs could take him.

Azula slowed down: a shield of condensed flames held off his boomerang, but not his sword.

He responded to her previous cut over his arm with one on hers.

Azula roared as the pain bloomed in her skin: her sword hand rose, slamming against his armor and shoving him off as the blood started to trickle down her sleeve: she met his gaze, finding a determination that unnerved her: a wound for a wound. Her arm… his arm.

It seemed their belief of going at things evenly would gain a new meaning today.

She didn't hold back from attacking anew: her sword clashed against his, once, twice, thrice, until she jumped and launched a burst of firebending against his chest, launching him backwards.

His scent reached her. It filled her senses in an intoxicating way, triggering utterly nonsensical needs and hopes that would go unfulfilled: he felt like safety. He felt like home.

It hardly seemed reasonable that he would, when they were fighting each other to the death.

She allowed herself a moment of weakness, losing the snarl, the glare, as Sokka stumbled back: the fire had spilled upwards, lightly catching his neck. He brushed off the searing sensation with his wounded arm, as though it didn't hurt at all.

The very sight of him was enough. She didn't move an inch. She couldn't care to: he stood before her again. It was him, her gladiator, the man she had lost everything for…

And she would do it again tonight.

She would do it every time, for as long as their souls existed, for he was worth every hardship, every moment of sheer agony she spent without him.

It should not have been gratifying to fight him this way, but Azula's twisted heart could only feel that way as she panted heavily, tears blinking in the corners of her eyes:

She loved him still, with every ounce of her weathered, battered being. She adored him, so much more than she had ever been able to convey, no matter how many times she had tried. Her heart belonged completely to him, for she had given it gladly, disregarding all fears that he might just stab it or burn it… he had done neither thing, even now. It was Azula who had hurt him. It was her own unforgivable deeds that had caused him so much more trouble than she could ever be worth…

She didn't know that the feeling of being burned, if just insignificantly by those flames, was almost a spiritual experience for Sokka. He stood in place, hand upon his neck, his breastplate heated by the last attack she had dealt him. Her fire… if he was to be burned by any, he wanted it to be hers. If he was to suffer under anyone's flames, he would always choose hers. To think he had made an entirely foolish comment about her fire when they had first crossed paths… he couldn't stifle the smile that spread over his features upon thinking so.

She froze before him. He raised his gaze towards her, steel returning to his blue eyes. She was still his enemy… no matter if she was also the woman he loved more than anything in this world. Lowering his guard, showing her any mercy when she would not grant him any… it would have been a mistake.

And they were making more than enough of those, but neither one was surrendering. Neither one was backing down…

Just as they had refused to across the early days of their partnership. When they had clashed and collided headfirst over anything and everything, when they couldn't help but fundamentally disagree on all matters of life they ever spoke of…

Their clashes had been the guiding force of their partnership for a long time. The war between them had seemed to end, though… perhaps it had simply been a truce. A long, fruitful, blissful truce that had expired just now, rendering them each other's foes once more.

But where he had once been a mere foe indeed, he was her worst enemy now. He knew her weaknesses just as well as she knew his. He knew every inch of her body, every memory she had shared, every secret she had opened up for him. He was no longer the hopeless boy who had tried to outdo a Princess far better trained and prepared for war than he had been… he was the man she had forged him into, instead. He was the gladiator she had sought for herself, picking him out of the misery his life had become in the Amateur League she had saved him from. She had shaped him, bolstered him, strengthened him, protected him, fought for him, saved him later on as well…

Never had she imagined, he knew, that the day would come when she would face him like this. That they would confront each other at the very end of the world, as fire and smoke rose from beyond the Palace walls. That their blades would clash and collide in genuine violence, rather than in the casual banter that had seen them sparring, for the very last time, in these very Palace grounds right before Rhone's attack.

Even back then, she had been convinced that Sokka could best her if he fought without holding back.

Today, it appeared that he was about to prove her suspicions correct for once and for all.

He raised his boomerang anew, casting it towards her: Azula deflected its path with a burst of fire, never failing to follow Sokka's movements as he raced back towards her. His sword raised, his club joining it… Azula dashed in, as though intending to collide with his body head on, but she pivoted slightly to the side at the very last moment. Sokka did the same, turning to swing the club, only catching the flip of her hair as her sword traced a new cut over his calf, catching the leather of his boot above all else.

She expected him to jump back for his boomerang. Not for him to dash in, his sword sliding cleanly over her armor's right shoulder.

It didn't catch her skin. That couldn't be a mistake.

His face was mere inches away as he drove the sword deeper, cutting fabric and metal…

His eyes locked on hers: the kindness that ever reflected upon her was gone from his gaze. It was her own fault that it would be.

She stretched herself back, toppling on the ground again: in a move of desperation, she forced herself to spin on the ground, legs straightened out, and her foot struck Sokka's back potently, sending him rolling over the ground until he broke the fall by spreading his legs, a hand touching the ground with his fingertips.

Azula jumped back to regain her footing, and seamlessly transitioned into a more traditional kata: with her sword accompanying each move, she conjured enough flames to unleash a pillar of swirling fire, cast in Sokka's direction.

He damn near smiled: blue fire, truly… It was genuinely beautiful. It was…

It was not gold.

The realization brought a frown to his face. It sufficed to snap him out of admiring the fire that could have dealt real damage against him otherwise: Azula was holding back, wasn't she?

He frowned heavily, eyeing her with analytical intent that she certainly did not appreciate: her fearsome snarl was but a warning. He was not welcome to scrutinize, to try and unravel anything. This was a clash led by reckless emotion. Rationality had nothing to do with it.

But she needed to be rational to use lightning, which she hadn't so far. She needed purer emotions, kinder ones, to conjure gold fire and condense it, an effective and easy method of self-defense that she had resorted to often to defeat him in sparring… whereas lightning, while something he could counter, was something that had backfired on her once, when she had used it in the wrong state of mind. If Azula wasn't resorting to either thing, then…

Was it because she couldn't do it? Was it because she…?

His eyes widened.

She saw the realization, the understanding, blooming in them… along with compassion.

She snarled. That was the last thing she wanted now.

"Don't…!" she managed to blurt out, her voice frayed and charred, as though her throat were on fire – and it might as well be.

"Azula!"

He called her name.

It took every ounce of her willpower not to follow his voice to hell itself if that was where it would take her.

She roared: a barrage of fire struck Sokka, and he took a defensive approach instead. She needed him fiercer. She needed him to understand this was a battle to the death. Her honor demanded that she took this as far as it might go… that he would not back down, that he would not lose steam, that he wouldn't surrender. She couldn't let him surrender. She had done heinous, nefarious, unforgivable things… she had damn near killed him once before. He wasn't supposed to back down, to restrain himself, to take pity on her… he couldn't do that to her. He had to fight. He had to keep fighting…

For if he didn't, she might just kill him herself, no matter if she had not set out with that goal in mind.

Her sword struck his armor. Her flames burned against the metal anew, against his forearm guards, charring the black bandages and his long arm-sleeves. He didn't seem to fight back quite as fiercely, even so…

Her fist, clasping her sword, struck him painfully in the brow.

Her knuckles hurt as he stumbled back, caught off guard by the unlikely attack without any firebending to bolster it. If he wanted time to gather himself and respond to that attack, though, Azula offered him none: she lashed out again, and Sokka had to brace himself with his club…

Wolf's Bane got stuck between the white bone, and the club's blunt blue end.

It provided Sokka with enough time to swing Space Sword violently enough to cut into Azula's armor a second time.

She gasped and jumped back: Sokka shuddered, the wound not so different from the one delivered to her by Rhone, even if it hadn't reached her skin once again…

She dove in anew. He had no time to brace himself for a new attempt to stab at what little exposed skin she could find in his arm, this time on his left. The sword slid against the armor once again, and it caught a much deeper chunk of muscle this time.

Sokka grunted: it was his turn to kick her off, and Azula used her bending to spin in the air, landing on her feet anew, as a feline might. Sokka snarled: her glare gleamed with unrestrained fury. She wasn't taking any of his compassion, any of his pity… she wanted none of it.

A new barrage of fire followed: wounded, Sokka struggled more to field the fire this time: she was instigating him. She was goading him. She wanted him to fight her to the bitter end, did she? To hold back nothing… to destroy her, or else, he would be the one destroyed.

It was terribly unkind of her to put him in a position as unnerving as that one. To pressure him as horribly as she dared to. How could she ever hope he'd fight to his best after realizing that she might just be unable to do the same thing? It would not be fair, it couldn't be…

Azula lowered her right hand: a spark bloomed in it, so small it almost appeared insignificant, but its intensity increased at every passing moment.

She was charging an attack.

A small, volatile bomb of her own.

Sokka snarled as he raced towards his boomerang: Azula gave him chase, and she unleashed the bomb at the spot where the weapon had fallen a mere instant after Sokka retrieved it.

The two were flung in the air by the resulting explosion. The Palace's grounds, once so pristine and perfect, had about as many holes in them now as when Toph practiced her earthbending regularly in them.

As rattled as he might be, Sokka rose again: she truly wouldn't stop. Compassion wouldn't do the trick. Nothing would, nothing short of giving her exactly what she wanted… a deadly fight.

A battle where one would live for one more day, while the other became nothing but scars and memories etched upon the opponent's skin.

If there was one thing that hurt him far more deeply about her now, more than being at the receiving end of her attacks, it was the mirror she offered him towards who he once had been. The man she had saved him from…

The Sokka who had hoped that one day, the Amateur League might just kill him and put him out of his misery.

That was all she wanted.

She would stop at nothing to achieve that.

"Azula…!" he called her again: she let out a fierce cry of rejection, shaking her head.

"I said don't!" she roared.

If he had thought they might just struggle to reconnect, to remember the past they had shared, if he had feared that a year of distance would be difficult to conciliate, he certainly found himself proven wrong by how deeply he still felt her. If he had thought his chi might no longer be attuned to hers, a mere instant in her presence was enough to prove him wrong: he felt every burst of pain, every keen stab of anxiety… the dread that urged her to long for a release she had believed he would grant her. A release she no doubt thought herself sentenced to, after everything she'd done.

He recognized her so clearly, he felt her so deeply, as though he were made of her, as though she were made of him, that no distance could ever hope to erase the incomparable connection between them.

She had lost herself along the way. Maybe he had done some of that, too.

But they were together once more. Surely, if she just stopped fighting, she would understand that…

"We don't… we don't need to do this!" Sokka responded. Azula answered his claim by jumping in the air anew and launching a new charged attack from her feet. "Azula, stop!"

"If this… is the extent of your resolve?!" Azula nearly shrieked, swinging her sword against his: Sokka parried it successfully anew. "Then I will finish what I started in your Pole, so long ago!"

Sokka snarled: she attacked anew, as her free hand raised a knife of flames that she struck upon his boomerang. Sokka shoved her away, only to wind up leaning backwards to dodge the newest burst of flames she channeled towards him with her sword.

He struggled to regain his footing when she sought to trip him with another firebending kick, delivered while she held herself in place with one arm on the ground. When Sokka jumped back, she jumped forward: again, her feet coated with fire struck him, this time hitting the armor around his throat dangerously enough to damn near choke him.

He couldn't land properly, rolling over the ground painfully as he lost his breath…

She was upon him again, like the most insidious of hawks, intent on plucking out his eyes if he failed to defend them: her sword swung down on him as he lay on his back, and he parried it with both his weapons.

Her free arm charged a firebending attack that she leveled at his torso.

Again… again. Over and over again, she would do the same thing…

She knew his armor would not give out to that, no matter how strong her flames might be.

And yet she had not tried another approach. She had not sought to attack him differently. She hadn't targeted his face, not after the punch from earlier, that caused blood to spill down his features…

But she wouldn't stop. She couldn't be stopped. She was no mindless machine, even so, but… she wouldn't stop.

Sokka swung down Space Sword, parrying Wolf's Bane with his boomerang alone, before stabbing at her right arm with Space Sword this time.

He did hurt her now. Azula cried out, losing her balance: his feet struck out, launching her into the air, and she flew off while still clinging to her sword, falling hard on her back.

A chunk of her breastplate's armguard lay on the ground now, cut off from the rest of her armor.

Far more blood spilled from that wound than the last one. Sokka turned around, as good as challenging her: was that enough for her to come to her senses yet? Or would she…?

The eagerness in her dark glare spoke for itself. Sokka snarled.

It was enough. He'd had enough. She wouldn't see sense. She was entirely lost in the madness, the toxicity her father had instilled inside her mind. The wretch… he had hurt his daughter badly enough to turn her into a husk of her former self. Into someone who would have found herself right at home in an Amateur League, longing for death at the hands of a superior opponent, dreading and looking forward to the last moment simultaneously, knowing her guilt and her hatred would only continue to increase, unfulfilled, unsatisfied, until the day her life expired entirely…

It was just one more thing to never forgive Ozai for. Sokka's eyes burned with tears, with rage, with frustration…

There should have been a way to reach her. She had saved him before, from that inferno… but that had not happened in the midst of war. Had she reached out to save him at the cost of letting his entire tribe die… he would have hated her. He would have never forgiven so much as the insinuation of being more important than them. He would have chosen death over betraying his own.

That was what she was doing, too.

For the thousandth time, she was choosing them over him…

And Sokka could only find that his weakened resolve, so damaged by his ever-surging love and compassion for her, was bolstered by the realization. By the fierce rage that was elicited upon remembering that they were no longer sponsor and gladiator, princess and slave… they were the heirs of their fathers, Fire Nation and Water Tribe, leaders of factions in all-out war.

Gladiators, even in the Amateur League, respected their opponents to the last moment. Honor, Piandao had told him, was a matter of offering the very best of himself in every battle he faced, whether his opponents lived or died, or whether he did.

On that day… he did not face Azula as his sponsor.

She was but another rival gladiator, in the cruelest Arena he had ever set foot in.

He swallowed hard, regret and rage rushing inside him as his face was contorted once again with pure wrath towards every wretched choice that had ever set them on this path.

He brandished his weapons, and he rushed forward.

It was what she wanted. He could see it in her eyes. He had known the shape of her desire since so long ago… and those golden eyes were begging for an outcome she couldn't have been more desperate for.

She shrieked: her sword was ready as she jumped ahead, launching herself in the air anew, wounded as she might be. Sokka swung his blade too, roaring with relentless fury. They slammed them together anew, and Azula's firebending jab failed to find its mark when Sokka dodged it by ducking underneath her attack. His blade rose towards her armor once again, cutting out another sizable chunk of her arm's protective plate, drawing even more blood from her right hand. Azula snarled, jumping away…

His boomerang soared towards her, striking her left wrist. Azula snarled as her grip on her sword loosened by pure instinct…

His blade swung in its most powerful arch yet, striking hers right out of her grip.

Wolf's Bane soared in the dark sky, spinning in the air until it fell on the ground in a clutter, not too far from where they stood.

Time stood still again for everyone in the Palace grounds. Breaths seized up, as every single person with faith in the Princess's victory lost all hope when her weapon fell out of her grip.

She was losing blood. The cuts across her body might not all be deep, but some surely had been damaging enough to reduce her firebending potential.

She stumbled backwards: her right arm created a wistful arch of blue fire that threatened no one.

For once, the Gladiator stared down the Princess without a single kernel of mercy in his cold blue glare.

He stepped forward. She continued to back down, gritting her teeth: her arms were as good as helpless now. She attempted to bend anew, but the blast was insignificant enough that a single sweep of Space Sword dissipated it without struggle.

When her eyesight grew blurry, Azula fell to her knees.

Her chest heaved. She wasn't quite so wounded, so damaged that she couldn't hope to fight back… and yet she couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough anymore.

One more attempt to spur him on, one last attack against him, and she'd be a goner.

She should have done it.

She should have tried.

That was her purpose, so why did she hesitate?

Why?

She closed her eyes, gripping her wounded arm as best she could, regardless of the blood spilling from her wrist. Every injury she could take from him was a kindness… one he did not understand, but maybe he would one day. Maybe, once he read her letter. Maybe, once he spoke with those who would explain…

She needed the final blow. She needed it now. Once everything ended, once she was gone… the world would finally find peace within its reach.

Sokka stepped closer to her as she knelt before him, her head bent. The hairpiece upon her mostly undone half-knot nauseated him. The crown, the throne, the Fire Nation… all of it had no small part in this despicable outcome. In the heinous acts he had just been forced to commit. In having to stand before Azula, watching her fall to pieces, chest heaving as she subjected herself to his judgment in utter silence.

He wanted her to speak out. To fight back. To challenge him openly. To mock and ridicule him, if that was all she'd dare do. To attack again, to be the one to stab him through the heart instead…

She didn't move an inch other than by breathing heavily once he reached her.

He stared her down: the woman he had been destroyed by so long ago, who had defeated him effortlessly, now knelt helpless before him. A journey of years had certainly brought the meaningless, insignificant non-bender of the Southern Water Tribe to rise to heights he had only ever dreamed of as a child. The feats he had hoped he would prove capable of… he was finally achieving them now. He had contested the Fire Lord's rule, hadn't he? He had destroyed his colonies. And now…

Now, he stood ready to finish off his heir.

To regard her on a battlefield with the same honor he had offered every gladiator he had faced in battles to the death, to this very day.

He raised Space Sword slowly.

Voices burst to life in the crowd that had gathered to witness their heinous spectacle. Rejection, refusal to believe what he was about to do, perhaps… hopefully, no one was quite so stupid as to cheer over this. If anyone dared, he might just cleave their guts out with his sword, next.

The sounds caused Azula to react: so dazed she was, she opened her eyes to find his feet right before her. His boots, furnished with silver armor, reached his calves. From there, his dark trousers, topped by his blue waistcloth, trimmed with white fur nowadays.

Her eyes should have stopped there, but they didn't. One final, fickle, selfish thought crossed her mind. One last, mindless hope upon knowing her time was about to come to an end.

She wanted to see him.

For one last time, she had wanted to see him again more than she had wanted anything in this world. She had needed to do it. Her heart ached as she recognized the fact that they had finally returned to each other… in the most painful, unfair, heinous of ways, all by her mistakes and designs. It was her doing. It was her responsibility. She had inflicted this pain upon Sokka and yet…

And yet she raised her gaze, over his dark blue armor, over the wounded arms, where his bandages had burned off, where his silver forearm-guards covered his body. His left hand still gripped his boomerang firmly…

His right raised Space Sword over his head.

Azula's breath caught: it was all she had wanted upon setting out on this path. The outcome she had known was coming. She shouldn't have wanted it quite so badly… perhaps she truly didn't, in the end. But it was here… it was time.

And the last sight she would gaze upon was the face of the man she had loved the most in the world. The man she had betrayed, the man whose heart she had broken…

His eyes had been so kind before… she had earned their cruelty, their coldness now. It was her doing. If he would not smile at her, if he would not offer her any leniency or comfort, it was because she had demanded he didn't…

She missed it, of course. She missed him. Just this fight, just this alone, was enough to bring back so much of what she had lost. With him nearby, it felt as though the whole world came to life… as though all the darkness that had clouded her judgment could be dispelled if she just let it.

But it was time. She had set herself up for this outcome… and she would be damned if she didn't embrace it now.

She didn't look away. She didn't break the spell of their shared gazes when he found new impulse with the sword.

"NO!"

"STOP!"

"SOKKA!"

Disparate voices cried out. Neither noticed them. Neither recognized any of them.

Sokka raised the blade higher.

Space Sword's dark edge swung across the air.

It spun for a brief instant before it landed mere inches away from Wolf's Bane.

Azula's breath caught. Every raised voice screaming, pleading for mercy, was silenced.

For the Gladiator fell on his knees. His hands clasped the Princess's shoulders.

He drew her into him, and his lips claimed hers.

For what seemed to be the thousandth time that night, time seemed to stop. The whole world was at a standstill… as once again, the Blue Wolf made a display of his unpredictability, just as he stood by his every belief with no regrets.

A rushing energy burst within Azula when she felt his lips upon her own. Her breath faded, outright. It was as though he had actually killed her indeed…

But he hadn't.

He hadn't.

He had chosen to forgive her. To spare her. To protect her life and…

Why? How? What was he doing? Wasn't this… wasn't this an immense risk for him?

This was no fight in his backyard. This was no scrap in which the two of them could afford to surrender at the same time. This was no personal conflict…

This was a battle for the fate of the world, and Sokka had chosen to discard his weapon and take her into his arms before both of their armies.

Azula shuddered: he didn't let go. He wouldn't let go. Her eyes remained wide while his were shut…

This was madness. This was…

This was ridiculous. What on earth was he doing? How could he possibly…?

He had denied her the death, the release she had craved. He had refused to set her free from her sins. If she were to die by someone's blade… it would not be his. He would not be the one to…

It should have been no surprise: Sokka, making the worst of choices, the most unpredictable of them… that was who he was. Who he always had been. Only he would end a war with a kiss rather than murder. Only he would show his back to his foes, risking death at their hands… all be it to take one more kiss from her lips.

He was kissing her.

Sokka was on his knees, before her, and he…

Everything she had tried to muffle, everything he had been slowly bringing back to life with each attack, with each swing of his blade, with every moment of closeness, burst out of her with blazing emotion she could not contain.

It didn't mean forgiveness. It didn't mean acceptance. It didn't mean understanding, it couldn't, he didn't even know half of it…

He was an utter idiot. He didn't understand the extent of her betrayals. Why would he ever…?

He was kissing her.

It was no mirage, no wild dream, no ghostly connection between their spirits.

He was her Sokka, and he was holding her so tightly, regardless of their multiple wounds, that it was apparent that he would never let her go anew.

She shivered. Her teeth chattered. Tears, held back as best as she was able as they fought, spilled from her eyes freely as she closed them tightly…

Hurt as she might be, the worst pain she felt was that inside her chest: her arms rose, her right going around his neck, her left gripping the edge of his armor…

She kissed him back.

So be it.

If this was the mad choice he would commit to, the disastrous way in which he'd rather they both went down… so be it. She was too weak to refuse him. Too weak to care for the word that would spread, the treacherous Princess who had ultimately fought for nothing, for she was always in her lover's pocket, of course she was…

She should have been. If she had been braver, she would have been. If she had been smarter, maybe, but…

But she was in his arms now. She felt his skin underneath his armor, his heart had to be beating just as fast, just as hard as hers as she surrendered to his unthinkable solution.

She kissed him back, knowing it might just be the last time she did before an arrow or a spear impaled them both.

Breathless, Sokka pulled back after what felt like a blissful eternity that still had ended too soon. Azula gasped: she didn't dare open her eyes, feeling his brow against hers. It would be so real, too real if she dared, and if everything would end now, then she didn't need it to be. She was better off basking in that cursed, final moment, before either of their armies acted…

"I… I refuse…" Sokka whispered against her lips. Azula gritted her teeth, pressing her brow harder to his. "I will never… never win without you. That's… t-that's not how this partnership works…"

"Sokka…" she managed to say, her voice so frayed it barely left her throat.

"It's you and me. It's always been you and me," he said, his voice hoarse with tears as well. "If you die… then I die with you. But I'm not… I'm not building a new world without you. They can fucking do it themselves, but I… I refuse. I refuse. Don't you ever ask me to… don't you ever ask me to give up on you again. It's never happening. I won't do it…!"

Azula sobbed: her head fell upon his shoulder as her tears spilled, and his grip upon her body tightened.

He was a fool. His choice was wrong, she knew it was wrong, he could've lived otherwise…

He knew he had sealed their fates together.

He had meant to make it so.

He wouldn't live in a new world without her. Not after having fought as hard as he had, for all this time, to set her free.

And so, they clung to each other in that desperate embrace. They held each other for the first time in well over a year, as tears spilled down their cheeks, as their hands gripped the bodies they had grown to love and treasure as deeply as they had. The battle they had waged had a clear winner on that day…

But Sokka refused to claim his victory. And by doing so, the war between them had ended for good.

It wasn't the outcome any battle was bound to face. It wasn't the way the fate of the world was supposed to be determined. Whether it was underwhelming, or utterly mindblowing, the truth was that never before had they dared act as boldly as they had just now. Never before had they risked the wrath of their respective factions to this extent… no matter if everyone knew, already, what they had meant to each other.

Everyone who had dared raise their voices against what initially appeared to be the Fire Nation Princess's execution now froze in place, witnessing the astounding sight before their eyes. The fight had carried the pair further into the Palace's gardens, away from the gates… but it wasn't far enough that their respective armies would have failed to see the outcome of their duel.

Chan could barely breathe. He hadn't even realized how opposed he was to the Princess's death until it had appeared to be an inevitability. He hadn't thought he'd want to fight the Gladiator personally for it… but now he faced a reality he had struggled to accept, so confusing as it had been from the moment he had heard of it.

The Blue Wolf was a mysterious, complicated man. He was unpredictable, capable, strong in ways others could only envy him for. No one else, no one lesser, could have taken the risk he just had: his back was turned towards the Enforcers, the guards, everyone who could have slain him for what he had done, shaming himself and Princess Azula in one fell sweep through that sudden surrender, that reckless kiss…

But no one moved. No one dared. No one would have broken that embrace… for the relief to know their Princess lived, that her foe had forsaken the chance to cut her down, floored them all.

The Gladiator Army was hardly any different: Sokka's refusal to claim a final victory had taken some of them aback, just as it had pleased and relieved others. But those wary of the Princess, those who dreaded she would be a backstabbing, wicked viper ready to sting, had panicked when her wounded arms rose to respond to his kiss. Everyone expected a hidden weapon, a fire dagger, any method to kill the Gladiator when he lowered his guard in a way he never had before…

None had expected the Princess to respond to his embrace. To kiss him back. To surrender.

The shocking outcome of what could have been just another bloody, violent duel, an unexpected gladiatorial fight between the sponsor and her personal champion, seemed as difficult to grasp to the onlookers as it was for the Princess herself: as far as either of them could tell, their reckoning would arrive at any moment. Their allies would read their actions as treasonous. Their foes would see this as a sign of weakness.

"W-what now? What d'we do now?" Gang Hong asked, watching the scene with wide eyes – perhaps he had never paid the rumors much heed, for that kiss appeared to blindside him entirely.

"Nothing," the Sentinel Knight answered him, fiercely. Gang Hong eyed him with uncertainty. "No one… no one should interfere. No one should intervene. This… this is between a gladiator and his sponsor."

The words rang deeply in his very heart. That the rest of their forces listened would have surprised him, but his eyes were set on the pair ahead… as well as shifting towards the enemy forces: should any attempt to attack, they would have to be stopped. Should anyone dare…

But no one moved.

No one but the hot-air balloon that gradually landed, right in front of the Gladiator Army.

One of the men riding it pushed the door open, climbing off the basket: this wasn't over, but Sokka had made the right choice. Of course he had. The clever bastard knew exactly how to catch everyone off-guard… her, most of all.

Rui Shi gazed in their direction, relief surging in his heart: it was done. Not only were they reunited… but Sokka had made the choice Rui Shi knew he would. He had chosen her… her, over his own life, over his prestige as an army leader, over everything. That was who he was. And the Princess had surrendered.

Now it was only a matter of ensuring that the Fire Nation side would…

He turned his attention towards them to find an Imperial Guard marching purposefully towards him.

He knew that body language. His height and girth were similar to his own. The uniform he wore… it was nostalgic, even though it was the model Fei Li had been granted, not Rui Shi.

The former Captain of the Royal Guards frowned as he stepped forward, meeting the new Captain of the Imperial Guards directly. They stopped at arm's length of each other… and only then did Renkai remove his helmet.

Rui Shi's throat thickened with emotion he had never imagined he would feel for the man who had only been a true ally to him for a brief time… though perhaps he had been one for much longer than that.

For across every day, every month Rui Shi had been away, Renkai had been here. He had stood by the Princess's side… he had protected her, and everyone with her, to the best of his ability. Otherwise, she wouldn't have survived for long enough to see this fight through… otherwise, Renkai wouldn't stand before Rui Shi now, dropping his helmet unceremoniously on the ground, discarding all protocol and Fire Nation propriety.

"I… I've done as best as I could to follow your example," Renkai said, his voice trembling. Rui Shi gritted his teeth. "I'm glad… I'm glad to see you again, Rui Shi."

"You did it. You… you stood with her, when no one else could," Rui Shi said, his heart clenched. "Renkai… thank you. Thank you."

Renkai offered him a weak smile: he raised a hand in his direction, another sign of alliance, of acceptance that caused a rumor of noise to arise in both their factions. Rui Shi's smile was wider than his, and he clasped his hand firmly before reeling Renkai in for a strong hug.

If anyone was expecting the battle to ignite anew, that new display certainly appeared poised to put a stop to it for good. The other balloons descended, closer to the Gladiator Army than to the Fire Nation one, and more former guards disembarked, rushing towards Renkai and Rui Shi with wide smiles.

"It's you! Renkai! You're still here…!" Fei Li gasped, a broad smile across his face. Renkai laughed softly as Rui Shi released him, with a proud grin of his own.

"I… I hope I did you all justice," he said, bowing his head towards the men who had once belonged in the Third Squad with him. "It… it relieves me so much to see all of you again."

"Same to you, brother," Tai Wei smiled, clapping his shoulder firmly.

Reconciliation, reunions, never had been in the cards in a war as fierce and devastating as the Hundred Year War had been. Neither side had ever been faced by a dilemma as devastating as fighting against those they loved, whether for the right or wrong cause, whether for their nation, their loyalties, their true beliefs. For the first time, both sides in the war came together in a manner so different from what anyone anticipated… all by following the example their leaders had set, knowingly or not.

"What… what do we do now?" Sae asked Mei Xun: the woman's tearful gaze only tore off the greeting guards, off the intimate and decidedly inappropriate embrace between the Princess and her Gladiator, upon hearing her subordinate's voice. "How…? A-are we…?"

"The Princess lost," Mei Xun said, plain and simple: the Enforcers around her shuddered upon hearing as much. "But… the enemy has spared her. It's… it's a kindness we cannot answer with further violence. This is no opportunity to fight back, this is… t-this is…"

"We've all been spared," Captain Jung-woo, standing behind her, breathed out heavily as he eyed the rest of the Gladiator Army warily. "A-as long as they follow his lead, that is. As long as…"

He wasn't wrong: Mei Xun gazed towards the Gladiator Army, the White Lotus forces, all stuck in the chokepoint the Palace gates represented. She guessed she would have to take the risk, then, just as much as the Gladiator had… as Captain Renkai had.

She stepped forward, startling her allies and enemies alike when she pulled her sword, still sheathed, from her belt. She hoisted it over her head, showing it to everyone who might see it… and then she leaned forward, placing it on the ground in another unequivocal sign of surrender.

Her heart pounded in her chest as fear pulsated all across her body. Any opportunistic foe might think this meant nothing… but this was, as far as she could tell, the honorable thing to do. The right choice to make. The Princess had been defeated, there was no question about that… she was merely following suit to acknowledge the battle's outcome, throwing her lot in with Azula, regardless of the consequences.

It was the Sentinel Knight who nodded in her direction, sheathing his own weapon, putting aside his shield, and bowing his head towards her.

Little by little, fists unclenched, weapons were sheathed or dropped. Guilt swirled in many hearts – countless lives had been wasted already, and it felt as though they could have, should have, been spared in this battle too… but more would have been wasted still, should they have failed to surrender now. The Fire Nation's acceptance of its defeat was the right outcome, no matter if it was late by well over a century: the campaign of cruelty, bloodshed and madness they had waged upon the world ended tonight.

The tension had not yet lifted from Sokka's shoulders, though. His arms remained tight around Azula… but he dared open his eyes, as he basked in the familiarity of her closeness, her presence. His heart couldn't seem to stop racing, as though it were only beating for the first time since she had last left him in the South Pole shores… she was in his arms again. It might just be for the last time, but she was in his arms again, and that was enough. That was…

His eyes traveled down her body, guilt, anger and frustration still rushing inside him: none of his wounds against her had been severe, but they had certainly caused far more damage than he had ever intended to inflict upon her. That blood spilled down his face didn't matter, nor from his arms, whenever she had reached him… none of that could matter. None of this should have happened, they should have never been foes again…

But in the eyes of their allies, they still would be. They still should be.

Even then, no one had aimed any attacks towards them.

Sokka raised his head: Azula's grip on him did not relent. If anything, feeling him move caused her to withdraw further into him, and he reassured her by tightening his hold on her body. His lips brushed against her hair, and he even dared press a soft kiss against it… she sobbed again at that sensation, and he snarled with a need to protect her, to steal her away from this wretched place, this entire maddening situation…

He might even have a chance to do that, too.

"T-they're… not coming for us."

His words caused Azula to stiffen. She didn't care to raise her gaze. To look and confirm his words. She didn't want to. There was only one safe place in the world, and it might not even be all that safe, in the end… but it didn't matter. All that did was that Sokka, somehow, had a leave of his senses strong enough to still want her, and she couldn't be selfless or strong enough to deny him. Not him.

Even so, she had heard him. She understood his meaning, even if she couldn't quite process it right away.

"No one's…?" she managed to mangle the words, and Sokka rubbed her back reassuringly, as he had so many times before…

"They're… t-they're not fighting. Not us… not each other, either."

Azula swallowed hard: that certainly made no sense, even if she welcomed hearing as much. She dared, then, to pull back only slightly, and even so, her brow wound up pressed to his cheek… soon, to his own forehead. His eyes gazed at her, even if she didn't dare open her own.

"Did they just… stop?" she managed to ask. Sokka nodded weakly.

"Think… we kind of stopped them."

Finally, Azula dared open her eyes.

She gazed at him, hope, desperation, need and helplessness clear across her golden eyes. Sokka's hand rose to cup her cheek: those eyes, so cold moments ago, now brimmed with warmth and kindness. She shivered violently at the sight of them.

"Sokka…" she said, her voice choked as she spoke his name, her heart pounding painfully as all her memories were reaffirmed, replaced by reality…

No matter if it had been less than two years, they had been apart for too long. The yearning in their hearts tormented them so intensely it felt as though a lifetime had kept them from each other, instead. Breathing anew, kneeling this way, before the other… Azula shivered still, gripping him tightly as she refused to turn her gaze away. At least, until his kind smile spurred her into doing so.

"Look."

He turned her head delicately. Azula obeyed almost begrudgingly, wishing to forget the world, to forsake everything she had been fighting for, to hide away from the nightmares that she knew would arrive sooner than later…

Her eyes widened at the sight before her: weapons scattered underneath the feet of the Enforcers, the soldiers who had joined her… the White Lotus forces had withdrawn theirs, too. Some had stepped forward, meeting those they could have slain in battle, offering respectful words as though to seal an agreement to cease violence…

"W-what…?" Azula gasped, shivering. Sokka closed his eyes, tightening his grip around her before rising to his feet, bringing her with him.

His arms didn't let go of her. It seemed unlikely that anyone would be able to pry him off her, and Azula didn't want them to anyway. Terrified as she was to face the consequences of their latest choices… she still gazed towards the forces she had been tasked with leading, towards the foes she was supposed to stop and destroy, to find that a strange, third solution had somehow presented itself…

As ever, Sokka had found a way out. A strange, unforeseen, unorthodox solution that should have never worked…

But he had earned the respect of his troops. Of his allies. Now, Azula had no doubts the White Lotus had been the ones to bend the knee towards him… for not a single member of their forces appeared to protest Sokka's choice. No one would dare. No one had the nerve to challenge their leader.

And the Fire Nation side… they gazed at her with wide eyes. Smiles spread over some of their faces. Anxiety bloomed inside her chest: how were they smiling at all? Did they understand she had actually lost her battle? That she had openly betrayed the Fire Nation, as far as her father would be concerned?

Going by their reactions, it seemed they cared more about seeing her alive than about fulfilling any of the Fire Nation's ruthless demands of honor.

It didn't feel real. Her heart pounded in her chest, pumping fear, despair, uncertainty across her system: any moment now, someone would break. Any moment now, someone would take aim at them and kill them with an arrow, a spear, a blade, earthbending, firebending, even waterbending…

Her fear that someone might only increased when one person started a slow march towards them.

And then it faded as soon as she recognized his face.

She damn near yelped, trembling even more violently as the long-haired, stubbled Rui Shi forsook any manner of restraint, keeping time in his footsteps, stopping right in front of her. Tears spilled down her face: her most loyal guard, her faithful friend, a man whose company she had prized, whose presence had become a generous boon in her life, gazed at her with gratitude, with certainty, with kindness.

"It's… it's an honor to stand before you once again, Princess Azula."

She wanted to reject those words. To tell him he had no need to offer her respect, decorum, protocol… he was far worthier of all those things than she was. He deserved better than anything she could offer him, he…

He smiled, pressing his fist to his palm, and he dropped to his knees before her.

Azula covered her mouth with a hand: she most certainly felt unworthy of that display. After everything she'd done, all the respect he should have felt for her ought to have been forsaken by now… but it hadn't been. He had believed in her still. Every bit as much as Sokka did.

Azula glanced up at him for an instant to find the Gladiator smiling with confident warmth at her.

Soon, it wasn't only Rui Shi who bowed: the nine former guards who had served Azula dropped to their knees, performing the traditional respectful reverence of the Fire Nation towards the one person they had ever meant to serve.

The Fire Nation's forces joined their act of respect as well: Azula shook her head, but that didn't stop every Enforcer, every Third Squad guard, every soldier within view, from dropping to their knees, offering her their fealty and loyalty… regardless of her expectation that they might wish to cut her down for her betrayals and failures, instead.

Sokka's eyes drifted towards the Gladiator Army: predictably, the gladiators appeared out of place in this ceremonious Fire Nation display of respect, but it wasn't long before White Lotus forces offered him their own reverences, bowing their torsos towards him. While some gladiators appeared out of place while doing so, eventually, everyone in sight bowed to them… in a unifying signal that spoke lengths of the trust both factions had in their two leaders. It was proof of their respect for their choice to end the conflict without the utter destruction of either side… proof of a humanity that war all too often syphoned out of everyone who took part in it.

Azula's chest heaved as she stood against Sokka. He held her warmly, keeping her in place, right by his side. There was so much to talk about, so much they needed to do and say… but right now, this sufficed for the Blue Wolf. Right now, his heart rejoiced in keeping her beside him. The way she had reacted to his unexpected choice spoke lengths of her true feelings, of the deep and dark conflict within her soul upon making every terrible decision she had been forced to make. She had been dishonest, she had pushed matters as far as she could take them… she had sought death even more desperately than he had, in his darkest days of the Amateur League. No doubt she had convinced herself that she had countless things to atone for… but now that he held her again, now that he felt her familiar body pressed into his, even over her newly damaged armor, nothing seemed to matter. Perhaps he should have had better sense than that, yes… but even when there would be much left to resolve still, Sokka's heart was set on never letting go anew. On holding onto Azula for as long as she allowed it…

She couldn't seem to contain the tears as she sought refuge in his chest. As she turned her face into his shoulder, unable to confront this reality, no matter if it should be so much more palatable than the one she had been willing to fling herself at, where she would have immolated herself to ensure that she wouldn't cause any further damage to the world while still under her father's control.

Sokka breathed heavily, wrapping an arm strongly around her shoulders, keeping her safe with him. A weight lifted from his shoulders as he watched an unforeseen, unimaginable display of respect, even acceptance, by two enemy factions. The fearsome confrontation, the conflict that had brewed for so long… it seemed so unlikely for it to have faded as easily as this, for he had never imagined it would. Impulse, frustration, desperation had guided his actions: if she was so ready to die, then so was he. Neither one was exempt of sins, neither one had made nothing but perfect choices… but she had refused to let him drown in his misery years ago, saved him from himself countless times, ensuring he would not have the death he shamefully longed for. It was only right to return the favor… to refuse to let her go when she had never lost her faith in him. Even now… even now, he could tell she hadn't. She had trusted him to do better than she had, once she was gone. He knew she had.

"It's over," he said, pressing his face to the top of her head. Azula shuddered, gritting her teeth. "We're… we're done. No more. No more. Please…"

She wanted to respond positively. She wanted to tell him she surrendered. That he had claimed his victory fairly. That his side deserved it…

But his words jolted something inside her mind. Something unpleasant, something he would reject, surely, but… but she couldn't possibly set it aside. She wouldn't be Azula if she had.

"My father."

Sokka tensed up. Tear-streaked as her face might be, Azula pulled back, raising her golden, emotionally charged gaze towards the man she loved.

"He… he's the leader of the Fire Nation, not me. He's… h-he's the one who needs to surrender. But…" Azula said, her breath catching as she gazed at Sokka with awareness… with profound understanding… "But you don't mean for him to surrender, do you? You… you sent them to him. My brother… the Avatar."

He shouldn't have felt guilt upon hearing those words, but it stirred in his gut, nonetheless. There was a distant, accusatory note in her voice… and he almost fell to his knees for it. The last thing he could have ever wanted was to cause Azula any further strife or grief… but he knew why he had to cause it this time. She did, too.

"It's… it's the only way to end it," he said. Azula gritted her teeth. "Azula, he… he won't stop. He hasn't listened to reason once. His entire life has been about winning a war that he now is set to lose, he can't…"

"He's my father," Azula said, lowering her gaze. Sokka snarled. "I know… I know. I understand how you feel, I do, he… he deserves no mercy, and yet he's my father. I… I can't fathom… I can't…"

She felt her throat choke and her chest tighten. The relief and joy over being accepted by Sokka anew seemed to crumble, threatened by that one bond she could not let go of, that she knew he wouldn't accept, wouldn't understand, because… because her father did not warrant that kind of respect. He didn't earn it. He had done nothing to be worthy of it.

"You've given me a chance," Azula whispered.

"You deserved it," Sokka said, snarling. "It's you. I know you. I feel you in my very bones, I did for every moment we were apart, I…"

"I know. I felt you too," Azula said, a hand upon his chest as she raised her gaze anew. "But what compassion you could find in your heart for me, after everything I've done… it's your virtue, not mine. It's your kindness that grants it, not anything I've ever done to earn it, much less… m-much less as of late. My father… he's to blame for everything we've been through, he's done everything wrong, time and time again, and… and I would never ask you to forgive him. Even I… even I could never truly forgive him…"

"But… he's your father," Sokka said, his throat thick with tears too. His voice rang with understanding now: her latest words reassured him, for if she blamed herself, well above Ozai, for everything they'd faced… he wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't stand for it. But at least it seemed Ozai hadn't broken her to the extent that he feared he might have…

"If there were even the smallest, the slightest chance that he might listen to me… that this could end without further bloodshed, just like it did here?" Azula pleaded. "If that possibility existed… would you let me try? Would you let me…?"

Sokka gritted his teeth: her words challenged him, as ever, in ways he never wanted to be challenged. To this day, she pushed his limits in every inconceivable way, forcing him to confront possibilities he had never wished to face…

Her words, however, echoed those of another woman, of features similar to hers, but older, wizened, with streaks of gray across her hair.

How would Azula react, if she knew the sole other person in the world who would ever plead for her father's life was none other than her mother? If she realized that Ozai, of all things, was the sole common ground between the two of them?

He didn't want to be moved. He didn't want to be confused, unsettled, unsure… but she had always rattled him down to his very core. This was nothing new coming from his Princess, he was merely out of shape, unused to it after having most matters on his own terms for the past year…

Being stuck in a position like this one, where he had to choose between pleasing her with his choices or obeying his vengeful desires, was already a privilege. Hearing her voice, knowing he could have lost her for good if he had been any more foolish, if their forces had chosen to fight each other rather than backing out when they faced one another…

He snarled, his grip upon her growing more desperate before he shook his head.

"I… I don't even know if he's still…" he managed to say. Azula trembled, containing another burst of tears that might have poured out if Sokka dared finish that sentence. "They went in through the secret river. I don't know if they found him. But if they did…"

"He has a strong defense force… they wouldn't have it easy to beat him," Azula said, eyeing Sokka warily. He swallowed hard.

"Are you… are you sure you could reach him?" he asked. "Do you think… do you really think he'd listen this time? He didn't before. He never did when you went against his will…"

"He might now. He… he might. But if he doesn't…" Azula said, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes. "Then… I'll leave it up to you."

Sokka swallowed hard: it was no small feat for Azula to relinquish her father's fate to him in such a way. She didn't wish to do it, he knew as much… her broken heart had taken countless beatings already. Losing her father would pain her profoundly… even though it shouldn't. She knew that, too.

But just so, Sokka found himself watching her with clear eyes, with a heart of compassion he had thought he'd set aside. The feelings she triggered within him were beyond compare: perhaps he was a fool for thinking her admirable, and all the more compassionate than him, for still wanting to preserve her father's life after facing so much pain by his hand. Still caring for someone who had hurt her so mercilessly… it was most likely an exercise in futility, and yet Azula had not given up, even now, on the father who had betrayed her in every way. It might be Ozai's doing, her twisted upbringing at his hands caused her to remain loyal to him… but even if it had started out that way, it had evolved into something entirely different after Azula had begun breaking free from his absolute influence, learning more about the world, living a freer life than any she had been acquainted with before.

His hand rose, cupping her face anew. The kind gesture startled her into opening her eyes again: she didn't expect to find that earnest understanding, that gentle resignation, that emotional conflict, spread all across the blue in his gaze, across the handsome features she had memorized by heart.

"If you're sure… I'm with you. Always."

Her heart jolted upon hearing those words.

He would let her try to save her father, no matter how unworthy Ozai might be of the very attempt.

Sokka's faith in her remained as true and strong as it ever had been, no matter how unworthy she might be of that, too.

Azula gritted her teeth, failing to contain her tears as she pulled closer, pressing her face to his armored chest anew. His arms surrounded her waist gently, and her voice was choked as she whispered:

"Thank you."

She knew, already, that it most likely would be a failed venture. That she might just be throwing her lot in with something that would serve no purpose. That she might just have asked for yet another shouting match with her father in which he might refuse to see reason.

But if this was her very last chance to save his miserable life, she would take it. No matter if he never thanked her for it.

"Where is he?" Sokka asked. Azula swallowed hard.

"The Throne Room."

Sokka frowned: Azula met his gaze with remorse. The river led straight there… he had been ready to ambush the team sent to ambush him. Unsurprising, of course, that Azula would've thought of that… they might need to act now, for reasons more important than just to talk sense into Ozai, if that was the case.

"Let's go," Sokka said, tense and stern: he gripped her by the waist still, and he turned towards the forces that still knelt or bowed towards them. "Gladiator Army! Stand your ground here!"

His troops rose back to their feet: the guards were quick to do the same, though they gazed at Azula and Sokka with expectation and confusion. Even those who had heard some of their words watched them warily.

"Do I come with…?" Rui Shi asked. Sokka nodded.

"Feel free," he said. "All of you, if you want. Might be numbers will be convincing enough to shut him up, but… I don't want our whole force to storm those halls anyhow."

The Fire Nation troops, too, rose to their feet as they noticed movement: none expected their Princess to survive once the fight had reached the heights it did. Very few seemed to know how to react at the sight of her standing side by side with the man who was supposed to be their nation's greatest enemy…

And yet he had been her companion, her partner, for so much longer than he had been an enemy. The sight of the two of them together, even if displaying a closeness that they had sought to keep secret before, couldn't possibly feel wrong to those who had long understood what they had meant to each other…

Mei Xun breathed deeply as Sokka led Azula firmly towards the Palace's main doorway: she stepped forward, meeting them in the middle, and Sokka slowed down to meet the woman's gaze with his own, displaying nothing but defiance, stubbornness and blunt honesty…

Mei Xun bowed her head towards him. Sokka froze, lips parting.

"Thank you," Mei Xun said: Azula shuddered upon hearing the woman's words. "I… I feared I might no longer recognize you, but it appears you remain true to who you always were, Instructor Sokka."

The title struck him in a strange place, even if the woman spoke it in good nature. He gritted his teeth and bowed his head right back towards her, acknowledging her fully.

"Thank you for standing with her. For not giving up anymore than I did," he whispered. Mei Xun nodded, tears flooding her eyes: his acknowledgement felt like an astounding display of understanding, of honor, of true respect so unlike what the Fire Nation was usually likely to display towards others…

"You intend to… to face the Fire Lord?" Mei Xun asked.

"You can either stand here… maybe to keep my troops in check, or come with us. It's on you. But… we have to go in there, now," Sokka said. Mei Xun nodded.

"Princess… what would you have us do?"

Azula shivered: she didn't want to make a single decision anymore. She was tired. She was overwhelmed, as good as saving her every ounce of energy to face her father… but she dared raise her gaze to meet Mei Xun's expectant own.

"Stay. We… we will be back when it's over," she said, softly. "Make… make sure to convey to all our forces that there's no more fighting to be done. Tell them… t-tell them to stop. To back down. To wait. It's over for us now. The Fire Nation… the Fire Nation has lost the war."

Her words might have appeared out of place, for the Fire Lord was still standing, for all they knew… but the Palace had been invaded, and she only lived because the enemy had allowed her to. The Gladiator Army, the Order of the White Lotus, could massacre every living person in the Capital if they cared to… and they hadn't chosen to do so. It was a miracle, truly… an opportunity that nobody had anticipated possible. One that the Fire Nation forces would be better off not wasting.

"Understood. I will spread the word," Mei Xun said, bowing her head before stepping aside: the front door to the Palace was open, and it welcomed the pair to rush through it at once.

There was a chance that more would choose to join them. To follow them into the depths of the Palace, even after commands were spread across both their forces. Azula's former guards tailed them as they climbed the steps into the dark main hall, and it didn't matter that both Azula and Sokka trailed blood as they walked, side by side: they progressed through the pristine marble as fast as their feet could carry them, on their way to the destination that both knew exactly how to reach.

Neither dared speak anymore. Any attempts to explain, to share their thoughts, to confide truths, to confront terrible deeds, would have to wait until this was done. For now, the comfort of holding onto each other would have to suffice. For now, the relief of knowing they stood side by side anew, that nobody would tear them apart, bolstered their strength and certainty. After over a year of feeling fearful and lost, of questioning their paths, of not knowing whether their decisions would save or condemn them forever…

Sokka's first and foremost objective had been fulfilled. He had returned to the Princess to whom he had granted his heart. She was here, holding onto him as they marched into the Royal Gallery. He could hear her heavy breaths in time with his own, he could feel her weight against him, even take in her scent, still taste her lips upon his. The painful journey to return to her side hadn't gone to waste, no matter how many times he had dreaded that it might: his stubbornness about returning to her, reclaiming their love, had been proven right all along.

Now, he faced a new challenge: standing by Azula as she confronted the worst of all battles. Sokka had never let go of her, never given up on her, and because of that, she could finally face her father.

Rows and rows of portraits passed them by in a blur. It didn't matter that Azula knew them all by heart. It didn't matter even when they reached Ozai's own: years ago, Sokka had progressed down this corridor while carrying Azula, too. He had teased her to lighten the mood, and she hadn't appreciated it much, despite it all…

Back then, they could have never imagined they would run side by side towards the Throne Room's curtains this way, interlocked, determined, devoted to one another, certain of the love that had brought them as far as it had. Every fear Sokka had ever held, every deterring factor that had once daunted him away from accepting his love for Azula had faded away that night, when he had first faced the truth about his feelings for her. Today, his acceptance had been proven right yet again: every moment spent fighting to protect her, to save her, had been worth it. Nothing would convince him otherwise.

Not even the man hiding behind the curtain they were merely a few steps away from.

Azula's chest heaved: an energy she had lost earlier, a strength she had relinquished when Sokka had appeared ready to cut her down, filled her body once again as she strode purposefully towards that curtain. Battered, beaten, wounded as she might be, she was anything but the picture of perfection her father had expected from her…

And just so, she marched past that curtain with Sokka, ready to speak her mind, ready to demand that, for once in his life, Ozai listened, truly, to what she had to say.

Zuko had only just drawn his swords when the curtain rustled again. Aang and Katara, standing with their backs towards him, glimpsed the movement by the curtains first, dreading it to be more Fire Nation reinforcements…

Ozai had raised a hand, coated with flames, his glare bearing into his son's scarred visage, meeting nothing but Zuko's unrestrained fury, as weapons and bending were moments away from being unleashed…

That was when Azula marched into the Throne Room and raised her voice.