Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ursa was a graceful woman. She knew how to move with her head held high, her back straight.

As much as her husband claimed that their daughter’s skills with fire came from his side of the family, Azula’s movements echoed her own. The arch of the neck, the sweep of the arms, the balance of the back.

Ursa’s talents went further still, holistic and aesthetic. She understood the elegance of subtle movement, the refinement of dance, the intricacies of pouring tea. The etiquettes of conversation, adherence to social mores, choices in style and dress. She had been taught well. Her mother had made sure of that. Ever since she was told that she would be princess to the greatest nation that had ever existed.

It was only when she married her husband that she acquired a new flavour to her education. She learnt how to speak to him. How to understand his moods and mold her words to the shape of them. She could intuit when he would run hot and how to retard the blaze that threatened to erupt her way. Casting her serene face toward him was often enough. 

She did this now, sitting next to him, as they often did after a long day. Servants flittered in and out but they also knew to make themselves scarce. The few remaining stragglers left them at their leisure with a table filled with the tea and fruit that she preferred and the indispensable spirits that her husband enjoyed. He did not indulge often but he was in a foul mood and his comforts were few.

She smiled at him in her usual way. She knew he liked that. Though his gaze was directed toward her, his mind wandered. He always thought far ahead. Planning his next steps, focusing on his goals. Her mind lingered in the past. To happier times. To times that, perhaps, had never existed.

He was angry. He was fuming. She knew that. But, this time she did not think she could completely hold herself back—temper her words into something asinine, pleasing, innocuous.  

She watched as his index finger hovered over the chili chocolates by the tea.

“Did you send assassins to him?” She asked.

He withdrew his finger sharply and looked up at her.

She raised a brow. A fissure in her mask.

“I did.” He offered no remorse.

“I gather you did not succeed.” She murmured, taking a sip of her tea. 

“Obviously.” He grunted.

She waited. He couldn’t help himself. She was his only confident. And certain deeds, dark deeds, always have a final compulsory act: confession.

“I hired mercenaries, members of a secret police force in the city, the Dai Li. They should be loyal to the king but well…” He smirked. “Everything can be bought at a price.” 

She understood that very well. She had been bought too, in a way.

“Of course, hiring foreign assassins was ideal, less suspicious. No one suspected a thing but Lu Ten is too much like his father. His amiability disguises strength.” He took up his goblet again and drank. “I underestimated him. I will not do so again.” 

Ursa floundered for a response. Acknowledging any semblance of weakness in her husband would not get her far.

She settled for indifference, serving herself papaya. “Why did you do it?”

“The dragon of the west” He mocked. “Is too attached to his damned son. It is his greatest weakness.” He gulped his drink. “I have no chance of ever ascending the throne as long as his heir is alive.”

“How would you feel if someone were to kill your heir?” Like on a well trodden path, her thoughts always led back to her children.

“Zuko? It makes no difference. He can barely bend.” 

“I meant Azula.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. “I would like to see them try.”

Her lips quivered. She wasn’t sure if what she felt was disgust or fear. Maybe both.

“Ba Sing Se is under siege. Your actions may jeopardize  our great nation’s future.” This was safe. Patriotism was common ground. 

“That’s the whole point!” He said, slamming his cup on the table. “Darkness comes before dawn. How will my father appoint me as his successor if everything is fine, if his nation, under the direction of the dragon of the west, is prospering, conquering, usurping, all in the four nations? My father needs to taste dissatisfaction, to look to other avenues for success. He must see me as the solution to all his troubles.”

She feared her father-in-law. More than she feared her husband sometimes. It was with great reluctance that she had named her daughter after him. Pacification comes at a price.

“If you are not careful—my love—he may begin to see you as the source of his troubles.” She said topping up his drink.

“Never you mind that. I will not try again. There may be another way to ‘turn the tide’ as they say.”

She raised her eyebrow again in question. Yes, he always had a backup plan. She knew that about her husband too. She just hoped it was something less dangerous, less deadly.

“It seems like Lu Ten is growing into a man. Wants to venture out of his father’s shadow, make a name for himself. Earn his own glory.” He laughed. “He has enlisted with the Southern Raiders. He will lead them into decimating whatever is left of those primitive savages.”

‘Good. It will do you all some good to keep your distance from one another.’ She thought.

“I have an ally informant, he will keep me appraised of his movements there. When the time is right, I will strike.” The border of his palm swept down, a line of fire following the motion.

Ursa tried not to flinch. She would never be inured to the sight of fire.

“Of course, a firebender is not meant for the cold of those lands. Perhaps the pole’s climate will take care of your little problem without you having to lift a finger.” She murmured.

He looked at her then with such adoration, such devotion, that she turned away. Having grace did not mean having candour.

***

“Dad’s gonna kill you.” Azula whispered to Zuko, an unnatural smile tugging at her lips. 

He startled. The idea was laughable but then a joke was only ever truly funny if it was a little bit true. “Really?”

“No…but he definitely wants to kill S-O-M-E-B-O-D-Y.” She elongated the last word. Azula knew who that “somebody” was and was dying to tell him.

He wasn’t up for her tricks this time. Mom told him time and time again that the less he humoured her, the faster she would get bored of him and torture some other poor soul. After all, Azula always lies.

She looked at him expectantly and he paid her no attention. He twiddled his thumbs, thought about whistling a tune.

She fidgeted, on the verge of giving up and leaving, but Azula was also stubborn. If she had something to say, she would say it. She could not stand to be ignored.

She jumped on the bed, settling right next to Zuko. Her clothes smelt of smoke and something metallic. He held his breath, the acridity of smoke only ever made him feel shame. 

Azula swung her legs, brimming with news. “Have you heard from Uncle Iroh recently?” She hinted.

At the mention of his uncle, Zuko peeked at the knife he kept at his bedside table. He had wanted to keep it under his pillow but his mother forbade it. She didn’t want him to get nicked in his sleep. Never give up without a fight.

“No…” Zuko pondered. “You’re not saying…” The thought of his father killing his uncle twisted his stomach. He loved his father. He loved his uncle. The thought of them fighting, of one of them dying, was unfathomable.

“No, not Uncle Iroh.” She said.

He let out a breath of relief.

“Well…maybe not Uncle Iroh… »

“What do you mean maybe not uncle Iroh!?” Azula always lies.

“He wants to kill our cousin…and maybe Uncle Iroh…but definitely our cousin.”

“Why wo—” He didn’t understand. Lu Ten was the nicest person he knew.

“Isn’t it obvious? Dad wants to be Fire Lord.” Zuko reeled. His father, was intimidating enough as the Fire Prince. Zuko could not, would not dare imagine him with more power. 

“Yeah right! Like that’s gonna happen.” He scoffed.

“Well it could—” She stressed. “and who is more deserving than us? Our family? Descendants of not one but two noble lines? Uncle Iroh practically married a peasant!” 

He scoffed again. “She was the daughter of a weapon’s manufacturer. And our mom is barely noble.” 

Azula smiled, ignoring his rebuttal, probably musing about the very unlikely possibility of her becoming the crown princess.

There was still one question that nagged at him. Azula with all her dishonesty was probably the only person daring enough to answer it.

“Well?” He hazarded.

“’Well’ what?” Azula smiled innocently. She knew what he meant. She was smart. No one read his mind better than Azula. 

“Well is he gonna do it?” 

His curiosity got the better of him.

In the end, she was always a step ahead of him. Like a sparkfly, she followed and followed and bit and bit, and Zuko, he couldn’t help himself, he scratched every bite.

***

Lu Ten was in his quarters, sitting at his desk—a desk plundered from the chancery of the Earth King himself. On that desk were his letters: a dozen military updates from the Fire Nation capital, a few love notes from girlfriends he had left on Ember Island, one scroll from his grandfather, Fire Lord Azulon, that he had already read and replied to, and another from Ba Sing Se, from his father, that he dared not open.

The contents of the letter were obvious; his father disapproved of his choices. Lu Ten was not used to this. He had never once disagreed with Iroh before.

Just as they were on the cusp of ending the siege on Ba Sing Se, his father had begun to waver. It was a subtle hesitation. No one that did not know Iroh would have noticed. But Lu Ten knew his father. He noticed. And this hesitancy did not please him.

Lu Ten held the enclosed letter in his hands, attempting to read through it without opening it. If he were to tear through the seal, if his fingers were to slip under the wax, pull, and lift, if he were to unroll the scroll, he would never complete his mission in the South Pole. He would lose whatever power he had over the Southern Raiders, the Southern Water Tribe, and even, himself.

After that, he didn’t want to hear his father’s orders anymore. No, not orders, his remonstrations, his sage advice, his droplets of so-called wisdom. Lu Ten needed air and what air was more bracing, more invigorating than the air of the poles?

“In war, we must strive to do as little harm as possible. People are people. They have hopes, dreams, souls, just as you do. What right do you have to dowse them?”  Iroh had said to him when Lu Ten had announced that he would be leaving Ba Sing Se.

Lu Ten had seen the writing on the wall. He knew that Ba Sing Se was on the verge of falling. And he was right. The city had fallen not a week after his departure and news had soon reached him from Fire Lord Azulon’s letter that he had crowned his first-born son the new King of the city. The first of the Fire Nation to rule the Earth Kingdom.

So much for moral quandaries. Iroh was a hypocrite.

Lu Ten would make a name for himself too. One day, he would be Fire Lord and would need to show his people that he deserved to rule them. He could not, in good conscience, follow into his father’s footsteps without showing proof of his own valour, his own initiative, his own feats.

If he were to reply to Iroh, what would he tell him. Would Iroh be proud, disappointed, busy, indifferent?

‘Yesterday, Dad, I led a raid on one of the coastal villages. Though, I now understood coastal to be a misnomer.  The village only appears to be on the coast in the summer months when the ice melts. As the sun breaks up the ice, the sea creeps closer to the village. In the winter, the village is land locked or rather ice locked. Perhaps, I will see this if I stay long enough.

The melting of the ice is celebrated by the savages. I witnessed these celebrations, myself, Dad. The savages dance, ululate, and feast on their plunder of the sea. Who knows what else they did? What other acts they performed?’

No, Iroh would not appreciate this train of thought. He had an infuriating tolerance for the practices of other cultures. A ‘universal outlook on life’ some would say.

He was not Iroh. He could not stomach Water Tribe food and thankfully, they hated the Fire Nation so much that they defied their custom of hospitality and did not offer it. Though they feared the Fire Nation in principle, the soldiers were nothing more than a nuisance to them. The soldiers established checkpoints, assigned rudimentary identification papers, imposed minor documentation and bureaucratic overhauls, a proper occupation by all accounts. No one was harmed as long as Lu Ten’s rules were followed. And so, they were at a standstill. The Fire Nation presence was tolerated and ignored, as much as it could be at any rate.

This did not mean that Lu Ten was idle. He knew how to make himself useful. As the leader of the Southern Raiders, his job went further than simple occupation. He needed to cull whatever was left of the waterbending population and watch out for the impossible emergence of a water tribe Avatar. Needless violence was not the answer. Unlike what his father thought, he was not a monster. Those traits only showed up on his uncle’s side of the family.

Yon Rha was another matter. He was more willing to bend the rules. Just the other day, Lu Ten had stopped him from murdering a young mother Yon Rha claimed to be a waterbender. Iroh would be proud of that. Of Lu Ten’s mercy.

Was it even mercy to refrain from killing on the basis of a lie? All he needed was to take one look at the woman to see that she was completely powerless. A person’s bending powers couldn’t be kept secret from Lu Ten for long.

It was a useful trick, to know when someone could use the elements against you. The ability to identify whether you should expect weapons of steel or rock from an opponent made the difference between life and death in battle.

It was why he was still alive. Why he had killed every single one of those assassins that his uncle had sent for him.

“Your highness?”

“Yes?” Lu Ten turned toward the voice. It was Yon Rha, again. 

“We found a waterbender.”

Lu Ten let out a single wry laugh. “I hope you are not making the same mistake. I won’t tolerate folly in my ranks.” The Fire Nation was ruthless. One more mistake and Lu Ten would personally end him.

“I assure you this isn’t mistake.” He answered grimly, dragging a bundle of blue and grey furs behind him.

“What is this?”

“A waterbender.” Yon Rha answered with a twinge of insolence.

“So, you saw her waterbend?” 

“No…” Yon Rha said hesitantly.

“And you dare bring her to me with such conviction!” He rose out of his chair and Yon Rha took a step back.

“Her mother, the savage, lied to protect her waterbending daughter…I know it! I retrieved the girl for you to see for yourself. I swear!” Yon Rha practically grovelled.

Lu Ten was skeptical. Yon Rha had a thirst for violence. If it weren’t for the prince, Yon Rha would have been the commander of this fleet and the Southern Water Tribe would have been a very different place.

He didn’t bother asking the bundle of furs if she could bend. All these savages had trouble telling fact from fiction, truth from falsehood, they would curse their own mothers if it meant saving their own skins. Truly, honourless people.

Lu Ten bent down to get a better look at her. She was a young girl not more than eleven or twelve years old, probably Azula’s age. She had round blue eyes. She met his gaze bravely for one so young. 

He looked into her eyes, the sclera, the pupils, the lashes. He looked down at her dark hands, the knuckles, the nails, the lines of her palm. He looked back into her eyes.

And he knew.

She was a bender.

Chapter Text

Lu Ten gazed at the girl. She gazed back and he realized now that he had a duty. He was honour bound and her life would be forfeit. All waterbenders were a threat to the Fire Nation.

He could send a punch of fire to her heart, maybe aim for her jugular to make it quick, or even burn her to a crisp instead, until her body was a mound of charcoal, it would take longer but at least the body would be unrecognizable.

He had done it before, to children younger than she, boys wearing armour too big for their frail shoulders.

He looked down at his own hands, stared at their blinding pallor. These hands would wring the life out of her; death was her only future.

And still, with all of that, the memory of violence and the promise of future annihilation, something strange, spiritual, almost supernatural, compelled him to spare the life of this little savage.

“Your highness?” Yon Rha stepped forward.

Lu Ten turned his head toward the girl and she looked back up at him with something that looked like contempt.

He shook his head. “She isn’t a bender. Take her back to her family.”

“Your highness!” Yon Rha stumbled back, flabbergasted. “At least keep her for observation. If she’s a bender, it’ll reveal itself in time. 

“Do you question me?” 

“We should burn her!” Yon Rha’s fists flared briefly.

Lu Ten pursed his lips. “What?”

“Waterbenders have healing magic. If she heals herself then there’s your proof and we can kill her.”

Lu Ten thought back on what his father taught him about the other nations. It was unlikely that this young girl had any healing powers at all. The power of water healing was at most, a myth and if it did exist, was unique to the reclusive tribes of the North. The fastest way to shut Yon Rha up would be to show him he was wrong. 

He grabbed the girl’s wrist, his entire hand wrapping around most of her forearm and in one single breath, ignited his palm. A smokeless fire erupted.

She screamed, high pitched yet guttural sounds that reminded him of a wounded ostrich horse. The fire had only touched her for a few seconds though it must have felt like an eternity to her.

He quickly let her go.

By his estimation the wound was only surface level, a little worse than a superficial wound. A few blisters dotted the skin which had become unnaturally smooth and reddened but not black, leathery or waxy. It would scar but it would be an acceptable wound, practically merciful, for an enemy of the Fire Nation.

“Bring the water.” Lu Ten barked.

Yon Rha obeyed, dashing out of his quarters.

Once they were alone, Lu Ten turned away from the girl’s quieted snivels to look back at Iroh’s letter still at the same corner of the stolen banyan wood desk. He breathed one long slow breath and wondered what his father would tell him now.

Lu Ten reached for the letter, his fingers brushed the wound sheets, and and he again imagined opening the letter and reading it.

There was a scuffle at the door. Lu Ten withdrew his hand from the scroll.

Yon Rha had returned with a shallow basin of brackish water in his hands.

“Heal yourself, peasant.” Lu Ten ordered, setting the basin on his desk.

She did not respond, stunned as though expecting him to finish the job and kill her.

He pointed at the water.

Understanding, she acted on what looked like instinct, thrusting her arm into the basin, lining her arm along its base, twisting her shoulders awkwardly so that every part of the wound was submerged. 

For a few moments, nothing happened but then, Lu Ten spied the faintest glimmer of light threatening to pass through the water. Lu Ten’s fingers twitched. He knew, even though he had never seen it before, that this light was a harbinger of a gift from the spirits. The gift of healing.

He raised his hand, he felt heat, fire, and ash mount inside of him, and in one fell swoop, knocked the bowl away.

The basin scattered to the ground. Water spilled everywhere, over his boots, seeping into the wooden desk, soaking the hem of the girl’s dress.

“I have no patience for this. I have work to do. She did not heal herself. She is not a bender. Let her go.” Lu Ten sat back in his chair.

“There was a glow…” Yon Rha said, perplexed.

“A trick of the light. Let her go.” Lu Ten began sifting through the reports piled in the center. He did not spare another glance to the girl or Yon Rha.

“Perhaps, the burn wasn’t severe enough. I could try to burn her myself, see if she can heal herself with a greater incentive.”

The girl shouted then in fear, a wordless cry, and it was only then that her brave facade began to shatter, and she looked up again into Lu Ten’s eyes, a plea for mercy.

He shot a withering look at Yon Rha. “Don’t you see that she’s still injured, imbecile? Another burn won’t change anything.”

“Very well.” Yon Rha resigned, dragging the girl back with him.

 ***

“Your highness, Princess Ursa is here to see you.”

Ozai glanced toward the door and saw his wife. Her face pale. She must have done it then. His loyal wife.

“Let her in and leave.”

The servant bowed hurriedly and scampered away, making room for Ursa to walk in.

He motioned for her to sit on the chair facing his desk. She sat down with such self-containment, such elegance, and beauty that he couldn’t help but marvel at her. It was true, she was not a bender, but she shone in her own way. 

“I did it.” She said her voice quiet but certain. “He has fallen ill.” 

“The tea worked then?” 

“Its taste is strong enough to mask the flavour of the poison. He will not notice anything amiss especially with such a small dose.” She paused uncertainly. He gestured for her to continue.

“He told me that he asks that you act as interim Fire Lord until he recovers.” 

Ozai smiled at this. Interim Fire Lord was not Fire Lord but it was close.

“The physicians?” He asked.

“They are loyal to you alone if they notice something out of the ordinary, they will not betray you.” She reassured him, raising her eyes to him in that loving way of hers though her face was still pale, almost sickly.  “They expect to be compensated when you ascend the throne.”

He nodded. Everyone that had helped him with his plans will be duly rewarded. He would strive to be a generous ruler.

“You have a letter from a lieutenant of the Southern Raiders.” She withdrew it from her robe, handing it to him. “I intercepted it for you.”

He smiled again at this. How he loved it when Ursa was the bearer of glad tidings. He unrolled the scroll and skimmed down to the signature at the bottom; his pleasure swelled at seeing the familiar name.

Your highness, the future Fire Lord,

I write to you with news that your nephew has been defying his grandfather’s orders. He is a friend to the savages. Protecting waterbenders and the families of waterbenders. He is reluctant to kill and forbids us from performing our duties.

 I found a waterbending girl and he forbids us from harming her. He let her go, she is now returned to her family. 

Please guide me. I beg you to tell me how I should act in the face of such treason.

Your loyal servant, etc.

Yon Rha

Ursa’s hope that the harsh climate of the South would take care of his little problem was somewhat inaccurate. It seemed like his nephew didn’t need the weather to get into trouble. Lu Ten–without Iroh’s cosseting—has proven to be more foolish than he could have ever dreamed. 

“Respond to this.” He said, handing her the scroll and beckoning for her to read it.

Ursa delicately grasped the scroll and read. He watched as her eyes widened and how, once finished, she rapidly schooled her features before looking back at him.

There was not sufficient evidence for Lu Ten’s position as heir to the throne to be jeopardized. More evidence was needed to back Ozai’s claims that Lu Ten was a feeble-minded prince of a treasonous bend.

“Tell Yon Rha to continue monitoring the little prince and to keep a record of all his misdeeds. My father, once he recovers, will be informed and will hopefully mete out a suitable punishment far beyond my abilities.” He said.

She nodded again, this time almost reluctantly, before excusing herself. 

All in all, Ozai was satisfied with himself and the trajectory of his plans. But, for all her qualities, Ursa was nothing more than a soft-hearted woman.

 ***

As the ice slowly built its way back around the village, as the nights grew longer, and the days colder, Katara tried her best to forget about her temporary captivity. The latest arrival of the Fire Nation to the Southern Water Tribe some months ago came with less smoke and more paperwork than previous invasions but was no less traumatizing to the young Waterbender.

She tried her best to spend her days playing with Sokka, avoiding chores, going to school, and helping her mom. Try as she might, she could not forget the day her mother was almost taken away from her—permanently.

It was that prince that saved her mother that day. That terrible Fire Nation soldier was about to burn mom to death and Katara could tell that mom was getting ready to implore her to run away and get dad. It was the prince who walked into their hut like he owned the place (he probably thought that he did) that stopped it all from happening. He took one look at mom, said she wasn’t a bender, and ordered the soldier to leave and do something else.

Mom had clutched Katara so hard that day as though trying to banish the thought of violence from them both.

Mom had lied to protect her. Katara had always thought of her bending abilities as a blessing. For the first time in her life, she wished that she was as normal as her brother. Mom could have died and it would have been all her fault.

A few days later that same monstrous Fire Nation soldier came back. This time with back-up. He did not take mom away. This time he came for her. And who saved her again but the very same prince?

She wondered why the prince had let her go. In the end. He had a kind face. The kind of face that if she didn’t know any better, would help little old ladies like her Gran Gran walk over icy patches, the kind that would give little kids ice lollies, the kind that would joke with her dad, and help her mom with the dishes. Maybe if his skin were a little darker and his eyes a little bluer, he could have been Water Tribe.

That is what was so troubling. He wasn’t a good prince. He did burn her and the memory of that pain and its scar had not yet faded away.

She didn’t even know that it was possible to heal with waterbending. Though she was curious after leaving the Fire Nation ship, she never dared attempt it. If the scar were to disappear, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was a waterbender. Better to live with the scar than to die without it.

Before her brief stint on a Fire Nation ship, Katara would fantasize about running away to the North. Training under the best waterbenders. Fighting alongside her father, resisting occupations and invasions, and defeating the Fire Nation once and for all. Now, all she wanted was to be a little girl again that didn’t know that if she twisted her wrist just so, she could freeze a sheet of ice. She wished that she didn’t know that if she kicked her feet out in a particular way, a wave of water would crash. She longed for a time when she didn’t know that curving her arm would generate a sliver of a water whip. 

She knew better now. Waterbending wasn’t everything. If anything, it was a curse.

 ***

A year had passed and Lu Ten was right back where he started. The Water Tribe village was coastal again, not land-locked or ice-locked, following the endless cycle of seasons with the same savage celebrations, ululations, and dancing to announce the arrival of spring.

Firebenders were not meant to live in a land without sun but they had persevered in those endless nights. And for what? No resistance cell was uncovered. No black markets were found. No colonies have been built. What firebender in their right mind would want to live in this hell hole? No waterbenders have been found. (Other than the waterbending girl.) The Southern Water Tribe was paying the taxes that he had imposed including the import and export fees. They cut all ties with their brethren in the North and cancelled ancient trading routes to the Earth Kingdom.

And was Iroh impressed? He had stopped sending letters.

Did Fire Lord Azulon notice? He was ill and didn’t know up from down.

Did the Fire Nation populace sing his praises? They were disgruntled, chaffing under the demands of a hundred-year war.

After all this time, Lu Ten began to second guess his motives in coming to the Southern Water Tribe a year ago. His father had told him that he was not ready to lead an armada of this caliber, and he had rolled his eyes at him.

He knew now that serving the Fire Nation could be just as distasteful as living under his father’s shadow. At least, with Iroh, he wasn’t duty-bound to murder little girls.

And that was his one flaw. He could not murder that girl. And Yon Rha knew it.

She looked to be about twelve or thirteen now. He watched her sometimes to see if she would eventually reveal her bending abilities. She didn’t have a teacher. Did she know she was a waterbender? Did she hide it?

Lu Ten thought that it would be better if she knew. At least then, she would be better equipped to conceal it. 

Yon Rha, like the little snake that he was, was biding his time. The waterbending girl was constantly watched by foot soldiers under Yon Rha’s commands. When she left her hut, they followed. When she played by the shore, they watched with their telescopes. When she cooked with her mother, played with her brother, bantered with her father, they listened. It was only a matter of time before her bending was made manifest. And when that happened, Lu Ten knew that Yon Rha would pounce.

 ***

Yon Rha was a meticulous person. He catalogued his observations assiduously. He would need to utilize everything in his power to prove that Lu Ten was a traitor to the Fire Nation.

At least, that was what Ozai wanted him to do.

But now, things have gone too far. This goes beyond simply spying on the prince.

Was it even mutiny if the interim Fire Lored himself was telling him to do it? If anything, it would be mutiny not to do it. It would be mutiny to disobey. Yon Rha shook his head. He really didn’t have a choice, did he?

Failure to act now was just as dangerous as acting.

He stepped out of his room and beckoned the several guards lingering in the hallway.

“I’m going to need back up.” He whispered to them. 

“Yes, sir!” They chanted, a little too enthusiastic. 

“I need you all to be discreet…” Yon Rha felt the sweat seeping through his uniform. He looked over his shoulder. No one was there. No one would know. And no one could stop him. 

“There is a girl, she lives in the largest hut of the village…” Yon Rha explained.

“Oh! You mean the Chief’s hut?” One soldier questioned, once again a little loudly.

“Shh! Yes…that one!” 

“I need you to imprison her and take her to the gallows of this ship.”

“What should be our reason for imprisoning her?” One soldier asked.

“Reason?” Yon Rha asked.

“Yes, for the paperwork. Prince Lu Ten insists that we complete all paperwork. Every Water Tribe member that is detained needs to have matching paperwork filled to explain the reasons for their detainment. It’s a lot of work but I think it helps with keeping things organized. It’s honestly great!” The soldier gushed. 

“Forget about the fucking paperwork! These orders come from the Fire Lord himself. Now, get to it!”

The soldiers left and Yon Rha, remained with his fears, ambitions, and qualms. But ultimately, his ambitions prevailed.

 ***

Lu Ten was walking around the village, a clipboard in hand, conducting his usual assessments. Where to expand their resource extraction projects, where to build settlements, who were the dissident voices of the village?

Against all reason, he avoided the one place that probably held the answer to most of his questions, the chief’s hut. The hut that held the waterbending girl. The source of his inaction, doubt, and shame. He kept himself to the village market, where people tended to gather, gossip, and sell their goods. Listening in on their conservations, one could learn a lot about a person’s enemies. But all he really learned from eavesdropping in markets, came down to one thing: the Water Tribe hated the Fire Nation.

He scribbled down some observations that no one in the Fire Nation would use or care about. Icicles clung to his eyelashes and he shivered.

As he moved to continue his walk down the market, screams resounded throughout the square. Screams that emanated from the one hut that he avoided like the plague.

“Katara!” A voice cried in the distance. 

A girl’s wail was all that he heard in response and Lu Ten ran toward the noise. Toward that damned hut.

A group of soldiers were surrounding the girl and to his horror, she was wielding a feeble water whip in her hand. She did not have enough strength to maintain it. As soon as the water whip dissolved into a sad puddle, a soldier grabbed her arms, carrying her away.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lu Ten barked, grabbing Yon Rha by the shoulders.

Yon Rha smiled, a self-satisfied expression in his eyes and shook Lu Ten’s hands away. He pointed his finger at Lu Ten and several Fire Nation soldiers surged to surround the prince.

“By orders of Fire Lord Azulon, you are under arrest.”

The soldiers tackled him to the ground, binding his wrists with iron manacles. The snow bit into Lu Ten’s cheek. He tried to firebend but felt strangely sluggish. Did they block his chi?

“Under what grounds am I treated like this!” Lu Ten was indignant.

“Why treason of course!” Yon Rha shot him that same self-satisfied look before walking toward the ship, wordlessly ordering the guards to drag the prince’s immobile form back to the ship.

Chapter Text

Katara had felt fear many times in her life but the fear she felt in this cell, in this dungeon, was greater than anything she had ever felt before. She thought it was maybe the uncertainty. Or maybe it was the idea that the ship she was on could be taking her somewhere far away. Or maybe it was simply that she was alone in the dark.

The soldiers had put her in some strange windowless room. With no water. Katara didn’t need to see to know that. The room was uncomfortably hot, even more while wearing her parka which apathy barred her from removing.

She was much more interested in figuring out where they had put her. Her ears were constantly tormented by rhythmic clanks and hums. Maybe she was close to those things that made Fire Nation ships move without sails? Sokka would know more about that. Were they called engines? She couldn’t ask him now.

As the days turned into weeks, Katara counted floor tiles to pass the time. Each tile was about a forearm’s length, even on all sides. She could tell the tiles apart by the grout that she obsessively traced with the sides of her palm. No matter how many times she counted, she never ended up with the same number or even a number that made sense. Could there really be more than a hundred tiles in this room?

Walking the perimeter of the room, she had tripped over metal chains hooked to the steel walls of the ship. They hadn’t bothered chaining her to the wall. They probably thought her too young, too untrained, too inexperienced to be of any danger to them. Even when they delivered her food and tablespoons of water through a slit in the door, they never worried that she would overpower them. They shouldn’t underestimate her. She would escape. That would show them.

Katara thought back on how those soldiers had dragged her away. She had felt so helpless. Her mom and dad must have been devastated. She didn’t understand why now—after all this time—more than a year of waiting—the Fire Nation had suddenly decided to take her away. Her people had deduced long ago that they were hunting down waterbenders. That was why her mom had tried sacrificing herself to save her. 

The prince being wrestled to the ground by his own subordinates was another image that she couldn’t shake away. Even while being dragged away herself, she had thought it odd. They had shackled the prince (their prince!). Why had they done that? Since when did the Fire Nation turn against itself?

The prince had saved them. More than once. He must have been lying all those months ago when he said that Katara wasn’t a bender or did he truly not know? She thought that he did. He seemed to have understood her just by looking at her, like reading her mind.

Above the clanks of foreign machinery, Katara sometimes heard guffaws in the distance, beyond the confines of her cell, and whenever that happened, she would crawl toward the door as stealthily as she could. Through the hinges, she would hear the muffled chatter of Fire Nation soldiers.

There were so many of them. So many voices. And every single one, an enemy.

***

Ursa would have liked to get into the habit of watering her plants every morning but over the past year, since Ozai had gotten closer to what he had always wanted, she had struggled to maintain any semblance of a routine.

Since childhood, she had loved plants. She knew plants. She understood them and she felt that they understood her. Her father had loved teaching her which plants were good for melancholy (a fire lily poultice placed over the eyes every night), which plants were good for infection (a drop of peppergano leaf extract on the tongue), and which plants were harmful and should be avoided at all costs (the spark hemlock that grew in clusters of three on Ember Island).

She had always been fascinated by spark hemlock. The way brushing its stem with her fingers would release scintillating streaks of light green from its epidermis. The way that her fingers would feel strangely yet wonderfully numb after smoothing over the trichomes. Its non-existent odour and bitter taste, like ginseng, but far more deadly.

She always kept dried spark hemlock at hand. When she had first married, she thought it would be useful in a pinch, in emergencies, in life and death situations. Once Ozai inculcated her in his schemes, it was only a matter of time before he had ferreted out her talent for poison—and harnessed it.

Ursa stood near her turtleduck pond waiting to receive a letter meant for Ozai and all she felt was dissatisfaction. There was so much room for improvement in her little haven, so many flowers wilting, the turtleducks had not been fed in ages; she had no will for it any longer, she had no desire to encourage growth, to encourage life.

She did draw her line at taking away life. That is what she had told Ozai. She would not kill the Fire Lord. She would not risk angering the spirits. Ozai agred, to a certain extent. He just needed his father ill enough for him to take over, at least nominally.

And now, Fire Lord Azulon was growing suspicious. He no longer admitted her to his rooms. She had no opportunity to deliver the sub-lethal doses of spark hemlock that she put into his ginseng tea every morning. And lo and behold, now, he was recovering, he was getting stronger, and more worryingly, he was getting sharper.

“How is Lu Ten?” He had asked them the other day, the first time that he had been able to leave his rooms in almost a year.

Ozai had exchanged a meaningful glance with her over his father’s shoulder before answering, “I believe Iroh would have a better idea of his goings on.”

Iroh knew nothing. If he knew how Lu Ten was really fairing, if he had even an inkling that Lu Ten was a victim of mutiny, that he was a prisoner on his own ship, that half of the Fire Nation court and navy was conspiring against him, he would not still be in Ba Sing Se, ruling over foreigners.

“Lu Ten should be invited back to the Fire Nation soon. It would not do for the prince, second in line to the throne, to be so far away from me. He should be learning at my knee.”

Fire Lord Azulon had always loved Lu Ten, in his own way, as much as any ruthless dictator could love his first grandson.

“Ozai, will you arrange for him to come back within the month? We should throw a banquet in his honour to celebrate his return. Perhaps, we could look for a lovely bride for him?” Fire Lord Azulon’s sickly face had smiled good-naturedly at the thought, though the menacing turn of his mouth was ever-present, even when he smiled.

Ozai had fumed at that request. After excusing himself from the Fire Lord, he had asked Ursa over and over if she would reconsider administering the poison and she had pointedly refused. She would not take any further risks. The Fire Lord was growing wary of her and she would not risk her own life or the lives of her children for the sake of Ozai’s ambitions. Her husband had not been pleased with her. Since then, it had only gotten harder to remain in his good graces.

Ursa settled down at the edge of the pond. Her hand dipping into the murky water just as a figure slinked out of the shadows, settling beside her, placing the letter that she had been waiting for in her hand. The figure was always dressed in black from head to toe and a blue mask covered its face.

She took the letter from it. She never spoke to the figure. It never felt right. The figure never spoke either.

Just as it arrived, it left, and she wondered whether this letter would bring peace or trouble to her and her children.

Her anxiety is what propelled her to read the letter before giving it to Ozai. Some foreknowledge of the news it held would arm her with the weapons she needed to face him. Bad news would require extra caution and indulgence; good news would require a peaceful atmosphere so as not to overexcite him. Either way, talking to him was always a Pai Sho game.

She skimmed the letter.

Yon Rha was growing unsure. He feared repercussions for the mutiny he was leading. This power struggle was taking too long. Yon Rha did not think that he could keep the prince confined indefinitely. He wanted clear orders that he should bring back Lu Ten to the Fire Nation in chains. If not, he would find a way out of this.

Lu Ten could not come back. Not now that Fire Lord Azulon was recovering.

Later that night, when Ursa had delivered the news to Ozai, she could practically feel the smoke drifting off him, he was seconds away from igniting everything into a roaring blaze.

Once his anger had simmered, he had dictated to Ursa one sentence to write to Yon Rha in response: “I am coming.”

 ***

Lu Ten was bored. After they had taken the waterbending girl, they had dragged him back to his quarters, put him on “house arrest”, installed a new door that locked from the outside, and unceremoniously closed the door in his face.

Any question that he had asked over the course of the next few weeks was ignored. And Yon Rha was nowhere in sight. How typical of the coward.

They brought him three square meals a day, a cup of spiced coffee in the afternoon, and as much water as he could want. They emptied his chamber pot twice a day. Some of the soldiers even bowed when entering and leaving his quarters.

Aside from the imprisonment, he still felt like a prince, pampered and respected.

They did take away his writing utensils. Perhaps Yon Rha was worried that he would tattle tale to the Dragon of the West. Lu Ten had not yet resolved to do that. He could think his way out of this mess without his father’s help; he was sure of it.

Looking out the window was another source of hope. The ship had not moved from its place since his imprisonment a month ago.

If he were truly being tried for treason by Fire Lord Azulon himself, surely his mutinous crew would waste no time in escorting him back to the Fire Nation where he would taste the bitterness of well-deserved justice?

And anyway, what had he done that was so wrong? Failing to kill a little waterbending girl that up until now had not revealed to a single person that she was a waterbender was not treason. Worse crimes were committed every day. Fire Nation soldiers stole extra food or uniforms from army barracks. Soldiers could get overzealous and boisterous, disrupting military operations. Some soldiers even deserted!

Lu Ten had accomplished so much in the Southern Water Tribe. Establishing total control over several coastal villages, mapping out the landscape, conducting weekly population surveys, initiating a decade-long project to melt the ice to make the land fertile for agriculture and mining. The Fire Nation had gained much from his leadership and occupation of the Southern Water Tribe and this is what Lu Ten would tell his grandfather when he saw him.

Every hour in his quarters had been predictable and monotonous until a knock resounded late at night that made Lu Ten jump out of bed, loathing to be caught off guard.

The door opened. It was Yon Rha. “Liking your cell?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t take advantage of the situation and throw me into the brig.” Lu Ten quipped.

Yon Rha nodded at this as though in agreement. “We are trying to establish a culture of respect, minimizing violence to encourage non-violent power handovers.”

Lu Ten laughed. “That sounds like a load of bullshit.”

“Well, people in high places want to see other people in high places treated well, regardless of the circumstances—”

Lu Ten paused at this. “Are you working for Ozai, Yon Rha?”

Yon Rha’s eyes widened but he remained silent.

Lu Ten tried to keep his voice even and reassuring. “It’s alright…you can tell me. We can try to figure this out together, you know. I just need to know if Ozai is behind this.”

Yon Rha closed his eyes, intoning with exaggerated confidence, “You have been charged with treason against the Fire Lord and you must be brought to justice.”

Lu Ten thought that Yon Rha had perhaps bitten off more than he can chew.

“If you want me to be tried in a court of law, then why are we still docked?” Lu Ten said, trying to appear disinterested.

Yon Rha huffed. “There have been some unexpected delays. The interim Fire Lord—”

Lu Ten’s eyes widened at this. “The interim Fire Lord? Who is the interim Fire Lord—”

“—has been obliged to give up his position given that…given that Fire Lord Azulon has begun to recover his faculties.”

Lu Ten understood now. Ozai was playing a dangerous game.

“Ah! So, Fire Lord Azulon does not know about my imprisonment. You are waiting for the right time to inform him …”

Yon Rha stupid as he was, was smart enough to know when to shut up. He did not answer.

Lu Ten inspected Yon Rha’s face, his eyes travelled over the wrinkles, the grey hairs, the cataract-filled eyes. “You’re not as young as you used to be. You’re a few years away from retiring. Do you really wanna risk your cushy pension for a shot at glory?”

Yon Rha huffed at this but his eyes dropped to the floor in concern. Still, he refused to answer.

Lu Ten tried a different approach. “I notice that you have also imprisoned the water tribe girl…Is she still in our custody? I assume that is also for my benefit?”

“The waterbending girl,” he emphasized “will be used as evidence in a court of law against you.” Yon Rha regained his spirits at this, turning toward the door.

 “Hmm…and I assume her family and the rest of the village is fine with you kidnapping her?”

Yon Rha walked back toward Lu Ten. “Ordinarily, if you had obeyed the law, Prince Lu Ten, the girl would be dead. She’s lucky to be alive, frankly. And as for her family, they’re becoming a nuisance. I think an execution is in order. There’s nothing like a good public execution to scare the masses into submission.” Yon Rha bowed exaggeratedly before taking a large step toward Lu Ten.

“This is my town, now.” Yon Rha whispered in his ear and walked out the door.

***

Katara eventually figured out how many tiles were in her cell: one-hundred and nine. The more time she spent alone, the less she wanted to do. Laying on the heated floor, she listened. She grew to like the sound of the engine, or what she assumed was the engine. She enjoyed how moments were interspersed with silence and infrequent distant chatter. Each voice blended into the next. Katara found a strange comfort in listening to those foreign sounds, allowing them to lull her to sleep at all hours of the day.

It was on one such drowsy occasion that Katara overheard one voice with a lilt more delicate and soothing than any tongue from the Fire Nation: her mom.

Katara shot straight out of her daze. She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew that her mom was there and that her voice though naturally gentle, was unusually strained and nervous.

Katara yelled and yelled but no matter how much noise she made it didn’t seem to carry over the clanking and humming of the engine.

Just as she was about to start another bout of shouting, the door opened and if Katara had not jumped away at the right second, it would have hit her straight in the face. Awkwardly sprawled on the floor, Katara tried adjusting her eyes to the flame hovering in the hand of the soldier at the door. She glimpsed the vague shapes of several other people behind the firelight and called out unthinkingly: “Mom!”

The soldier with the fire kicked her in the chest, pushing her further from the door.

“Katara!” Her mother yelled in a voice so strange and frightened, almost unrecognizable.

“Mom!” Katara yelled again, scrambling to get closer to her.

She was pushed back again.

“Can we get some more light in here?” Another voice that Katara recognized called out. It was that man, the man that wanted to kill her mom, that had told the prince to burn her, that had been following her all these months.

The guards at the door lit sconces high up along the steel wall and light exploded in Katara’s vision. She had been in the dark for so long. The room was so much smaller than she had thought it to be.

“Yon Rha, is this really necessary?” Katara’s eyes had not yet adjusted to the light, but she recognized that voice too. The prince!

“Unlike you, I don’t get squeamish when it comes to getting a job done.” Yon Rha said.

“This has nothing to do with being squeamish, Yon Rha. It’s about needless violence.”

Yon Rha’s fists erupted into flames. “The thing about violence, Lu Ten, is that it humiliates, it subjugates, it controls. Violence means that you remain unchallenged.”

Yon Rha directed a jet of fire towards Katara’s mom.

Lu Ten’s arm arched forward, forming some kind of shield that scattered the flames away, saving her. Again.

Yon Rha smiled again. To Katara, it seemed like he was enjoying himself. “Are you unchallenged, Lu Ten? Is there someone vying for your throne? Your father’s throne?” Yon Rha teased. “Don’t you think that a little violence would scare the competition away? A show of strength, let’s say?”

Lu Ten’s lips thinned at this.

“Kill them. They’re the only true evidence I have of your treason. If they’re dead, you’re free. Kill them and we can forget all about this little mess.”

Lu Ten walked toward Katara and Kya. “I thought you wanted to overthrow me. Now, you’re trying to help me? Only a coward like you wouldn’t be able to follow through with his own plans.”

Yon Rha wavered at this. “The thing is Lu Ten…I’m just the middleman and it turns out, middlemen don’t do much, don’t get much, but they do get all the shit, all the blame. If you get rid of them, Ozai will have nothing on you and we can pretend that all this never happened.”

“And I’ll have nothing on you…It will be a blank slate for us both.” Lu Ten said, continuing his slow trek toward Katara and Kya.

Yon Rha nodded excitedly.

Lu Ten raised his arm, fire at the tips of his fingers, straight toward Katara. Katara backed away in fear, hiding behind her mom.

Lu Ten stood still for a few seconds more and Kya shielded her daughter as best as she could, staring at him with fierce defiance.

“I can’t.”

He quickly swerved and shot a ball of fire toward Yon Rha. The rest of the guards rushed forward, grabbing Lu Ten by the arms and neck, restraining him.

Yon Rha had an ugly burn across his neck but the fire had not scorched him past his armor. He did not seem frightened or hurt by the display. If anything, he seemed emboldened.

“If you won’t do it—” Yon Rha grabbed Kya by the hair with one hand, wrapped the other around her neck, lit his palms with fire, and burned her to death.

”I will.”
 

Chapter Text

At the sight of her mother’s body falling to the ground, the air in Katara’s lungs transformed into something remote and unwelcome. To continue breathing was unthinkable. To continue thinking, believing, hoping, was impossible.

The smell of burning flesh quickly flooded the enclosed space. Her mother’s mutilated face was turned upward toward the ceiling. Katara looked into her clouded unseeing blue irises, sunk to her knees, and promptly expelled everything that she had ever ingested.

The prince and most of the other Fire Nation soldiers stood stupefied, perhaps not having expected events to turn so sour, so soon. The sourness in Katara’s mouth did not fade, if anything it seemed to swell at the sight of Yon Rha’s grim face which approached her own, his fists raised.

Katara no longer felt any fear. Death had become familiar to her; life was alien. If she was to go by fire, she felt comforted by the idea that at least now she knew what it felt like to be burnt and what it felt like to watch the person she loved most in the world die burning. Perhaps, she was already on fire. That was the only explanation for the stinging anguish that scorched her skin, from the longest hair on her head to the very tips of her toes.

Yon Rha’s hot hands gripped her chin, forcing her vomit-stained face to look up at him. He gave her a look of pure disgust which she effortlessly mirrored back at him.

At the edge of her vision, Katara spied the prince surreptitiously free himself from his slack-jawed captors. He sent jets of fire to the half dozen soldiers gathered in the cell. Momentarily incapacitated, all were unable to stop him in his approach toward Yon Rha  only now realizing the danger he was in, unconsciously tightened his grip on Katara’s jaw.

The prince’s hands shot to wrap around Yon Rha’s throat. Choking, Yon Rha let go of Katara, his hands lifting to pry the prince’s fingers away from his throat.

Katara stepped out of Yon Rha’s shadow, trying to meet the prince’s narrowed eyes. She pled for something that she had never wanted before in her life: the pleasure of seeing another human die.

The prince did not seem to notice her at first, so focused was he on watching Yon Rha’s face turn from white to red to blue. Eventually, something compelled him to look away for a moment, and his eyes passed over Katara’s face, her beseeching brows, her wordless request.

Understanding, heat built up in Lu Ten’s hands and fire sprang out of his fingertips. The very same fingers that were clasped around Yon Rha’s throat. The death that Katara had envisioned for Yon Rha transformed into something more gruesome, more poetic. The same firebending force that had killed Katara’s mother now killed her mother’s killer. The same mutilations that marred her mother’s face now marred her mutilator’s.

Katara did not think she would ever know joy, love, or hope again but she could settle for vengeance. She could feed her lungs with that.

She breathed, long and deep, as quiet settled over the cell. Not one person dared move.

The cell door stood ajar and someone at the threshold pushed it open even further. A large looming figure, sporting a similar topknot to that of the prince stepped forward. He was burly with a foreboding look, cold golden eyes, and an assured stride.

He radiated power and self-importance. He walked as though there weren’t two dead bodies in the small steel room. He acted like he had simply entered the cell for a visit or to sight-see and was vaguely underwhelmed by the prospects.

He looked around, cleared his throat expectantly, and every single soldier in the cell genuflected. His face remained impassive at their subservience. For him, this degree of devotion was expected, only natural.

He sniffed before his gaze narrowed in on the prince, looking to him like he was a fruit fly he was just waiting to squash.

“Lu Ten, long time, no see. Has it been more than a year since I last saw you?”

Lu Ten cleared his throat, unsettled. “Ozai, it feels like no time has passed at all, like we never even parted. Your presence follows me wherever I go.”

Ozai laughed at that. “That’s the way it is with family; they never quite leave you alone.”

“Your friends haven’t been leaving me alone, either.” Lu Ten retorted.

Ozai laughed again. “You’ve always been such a sociable guy, Lu Ten. I thought you would enjoy meeting my friends.”

“They’re a little more forceful than I would like. I had to put them in their place.” Lu Ten looked down at Yon Rha’s body, almost involuntarily.

“Is that what happened here? You put a Lieutenant of our Fire Lord’s fleet in his place?” Ozai approached the body, his foot against Yon Rha’s cheek, nudging his head back and forth, inspecting. “Lieutenant Yon Rha is quite a decorated and respected fellow, a favourite of the royal family. For what reason have you executed him?”

Ozai addressed the other soldiers in the room. “Why did our dear little prince kill such a loyal servant of the Fire Nation?”

No one dared speak.

Since entering the room, Katara sensed that Ozai had been deliberately overlooking her. It seemed to her that he had been aware of her presence from the start but had been waiting for the right moment to acknowledge her, to introduce her into his play, this retelling of Lu Ten’s deeds.

He fleetingly bowed his head toward her, genuinely pleased to see her.

“And who is this lovely little savage?” He exclaimed to the room, though really, he only wanted the question to be answered by Lu Ten.

Lu Ten understood this but did not respond.

“What are you, little savage?” Ozai bent down toward Katara, pantomiming fatherly interest.

Katara didn’t answer.

Still bent to her height, Ozai bellowed. “What are you?!”

Katara quivered involuntarily. Under her breath, she answered, “Katara.”

He spat. “I don’t care about your damn name.” Then, he bellowed again, “What are you?!”

Katara did not understand the question. As far as she knew, she was Katara, she would always be Katara, no matter how much she wished she were someone else, anywhere else.

Again, he repeated the question in that same vicious way, and again, Katara did not answer, did not know how to answer.

As Ozai began to yell the question again, Lu Ten spoke up. “She’s a waterbender, Ozai.”

Ozai straightened at that. He angled his head toward Lu Ten. “Then, why is she alive, Lu Ten?”

Lu Ten opened his mouth and closed it again. It seemed like even he did not know why Katara was still alive. She didn’t know either.

“Why is she alive and why is Yon Rha dead?” He walked toward Lu Ten. “Why is an enemy of the Fire Nation alive and a loyal member of the Fire Nation navy extrajudicially murdered? Murdered by you?”

Lu Ten’s brow wrinkled at the accusation. He looked toward Katara in confusion, mutely directing that same question toward her, as if she would know why he had acted in such a way.

“For someone so eager to take charge, to prove himself, you have failed, irredeemably. You give me no choice, Lu Ten, and it gives me no pleasure in saying this—”

This was a lie, even Katara knew that.

“Prince Lu Ten, you are under arrest on the count of two charges: the murder of your subordinate, the honourable Lieutenant Yon Rha, and conspiring with a waterbender, an enemy of the Fire Nation.”

Ozai motioned to the Fire Nation soldiers that hovered around him. “Throw him in the brig—”

The Fire Nation soldiers encircled Lu Ten, ready.

Ozai looked around and let out a soft chuckle. “Oh wait…you’re already there.”

He walked out of the cell and the soldiers followed, leaving Katara with the prince and two corpses.

***

Lu Ten wished more strongly than he ever had before that he had not cut ties with Iroh. He wished that he had told his father everything, his power struggles with Yon Rha, his difficulties in establishing control over the South Pole, his need for advice and guidance and support. He hadn’t even told Iroh about the first time Ozai had sent assassin’s to kill him in Ba Sing Se. It was what prompted him to want a change, to make a name for himself, to make himself so strong, so powerful, so necessary to the glorification of the Fire Nation that Ozai would never dare conspire against him again.

He had been so foolish. He had thought he had long outgrown the inadequacies of childhood and look at him now, tripping over mistakes like a clueless schoolboy. Only now, he was not making mistakes. He was shooting himself in the leg. He was placing his own neck under a guillotine. He was walking the plank and diving headfirst into a sea of unagi-infested waters.

The epitome of his troubles was right in front of him. Since Ozai had left the cell, the waterbender had not strayed from her dead mother’s side. The heat of the cell was making the smell of the charred flesh stronger, even stronger when compounded with the second corpse that had joined the first.

She was crying. When the woman had first died, she had not cried, perhaps it was shock, perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was bravery. Regardless, she cried now and Lu Ten writhed with the urge to tell her to stop, to beg her to stop.

The brig was next to the ship’s boilers, on rotation, firebenders would feed coal to the furnace, lighting it on fire, heating the ship over the course of the year that it had been docked in the South Pole.

He could hear a loud bustle beyond the steel walls of the cell, irregular to the schedule that the ship’s captain had established weeks ago. This amount of activity could only mean one thing. They had been ordered to switch gears. More coal would be needed. Ozai had ordered them to move.

“What’s all that noise?” The girl asked, her voice hoarse.

Lu Ten tracked the tears that still streamed down her face. “I think we’re leaving.”

Her brows curved in confusion, in a way that he now recognized was wholly unique to her. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“The only place Ozai would want to take me in chains: the Fire Nation.” Lu Ten said bitterly.

Her eyes widened in indignation. “We can’t go there! My mom needs to go back to the village.”

Did she not realize her mother was dead? Did she not understand that her people could do nothing for her now?

“There’s not much we can do.” He settled on telling her.

“No! We have to take her back! My family didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. Sokka! My dad! She needs a proper funeral!” Tears fell even more profusely, snot gathering along her upper lip.

“Look, Katara?” She nodded. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m stuck here with you. I’m also in prison. I have no power.”

Her face remained neutral for moment, processing his explanation, before indignance crept back into her face. “Aren’t you a prince?” She said with the attitude characteristic of pre-teen girls. “Why do you let them walk all over you like that?”

“I don’t let them do anything. That was my uncle back there. He’s been wanting to kill me for a long time. If my father doesn’t have an heir, then he becomes the crown prince instead, straight in line to becoming Fire Lord.”

At the mention of Ozai, the girl visibly shook, but she seemed to be too distraught to fully register her fear.

“We’re doomed if he’s the next Fire Lord.” She whispered, whatever life remained in her face seemed to drain at the thought.

“Yup.”

“There must be someone on this ship that’s still loyal to you. Can’t they help us escape? Can’t they help us take my mom back?” She was crying again, asking for something that he couldn’t give her.

“I can’t trust anyone and we’re already moving. You’re a waterbender, can’t you feel the ship moving?”

She placed her hands along the floor of the cell as though feeling for the waves that battered beneath them. She understood what he meant, with each passing second, they were sailing further north.

She turned back toward her mom, stroking her hair.

“How did you know I was a waterbender?”

“You were bending water when they captured you all those weeks ago.”

She frowned. “No! Before that, you knew, you knew I was a waterbender. How?”

She knew that he knew she was a bender?

“I—I have a talent, a skill for recognizing benders. There’s something in their eyes, in the way they carry themselves, in the way they use their hands. Once you see it, it’s very hard to miss.”

She shrugged, still stroking her mother’s hair. “Why did you lie?”

He continued gazing at her, at this girl that he had only before seen as a savage and admitted. “I think I’m done with violence.”

“You burned me!” He flinched at that. “You killed Yon Rha—” She added before stopping herself, perhaps recalling that in her own silent way, she had asked him to.

“I don’t want to take innocent life anymore. I’m only eighteen and I’ve killed so many people in Ba Sing Se. It was my first time joining the army, leaving my home, fighting for my people. I thought I was doing the right thing and when I left, I wanted to start a campaign, under my own terms, get some glory for myself that my dad couldn’t take credit for.”

“I didn’t ask for your whole life story.” She snarled.

Lu Ten was quiet after that. Grief had many faces.

***

Days passed and Katara spent almost every moment caring for her mother. She only focused on the unblemished parts of her mother. The parts that had never been touched by fire. Whenever she caught a glimpse of the singed flesh, the bile that arose when she first watched her mother die would come back. She often thought about her own scarred flesh, her own mangled arm. How her mother now matched her.

She looked at the prince who slept sitting up and cross-legged, his back against the curved wall of the ship. He had been meditating, a practice that he claimed his father encouraged. Katara laughed darkly at that. The Fire Nation rapes and pillages and its people spend their free time meditating about it. How enlightened.

She knew her mother’s body was rotting before her eyes. She did not spare a glance at the other body in the corner, but it made her feel better knowing that he was also dead, that he would never see the light of day again. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she owed Lu Ten a debt. He had avenged her.

For all his claims of not wanting to be violent, the prince was violent. He had killed. He had killed for her, but he had killed all the same. By his own admission, he had killed others, earthbenders whose only crime was defending their home. As if that was even a crime. If the water tribe had any sense, any initiative, any impulse other than “flowing like water and becoming one with the current”, they would have resisted long ago. They would have kicked the Fire Nation’s ass and her mother would never have died.

“You killed Yon Rha…” Katara’s mouth felt like sand, her throat parched. She had not spoken in a while.

“Yes.” Lu Ten replied, perhaps he had not been asleep after all.

“When you attacked him, did you intend to kill him?” She needed to know if he had killed Yon Rha because of her.

“I—I’m not sure. I think I just wanted to stop him from kill…killing you. I hadn’t really decided to do anything unti—”

“Until I told you to kill him.” Katara finished.

Lu Ten looked down at his hands. “You didn’t tell me to—”

“In a way, I did. And you understood that.” Katara crawled closer to him. “How is it you understand me all the time?”

Lu Ten thought for a moment. “I’m a people person. I understand people and people usually like me.”

Katara breathed an echo of a laugh. “Unless they want you dead, I guess?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, you’re a prince? Your name’s Laten?” Katara asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Lu and Ten.” He corrected.

Katara grew pensieve.

“Let’s keep things simple. I’ll just call you Ten since I know ten things about you.” Katara’s lips lifted a little bit at that.

“That could get confusing pretty fast…if you ever end up learning more.” He chuckled. “And how is it you know ten things about me?”

“One: you’re a prince. Two: you’re from the Fire Nation. Three: you’re a firebender. Four: your uncle wants to kill you. Five: you’re eighteen. Six: you fought in Ba Sing Se. Seven—” She paused. “You saved my life. Eight: You killed my mom’s killer. Nine. You’re a people person. Ten…”

“Ten?” He questioned.

Strangely, she felt herself blushing and she had no idea why. “You’re nice.”

***

The duration of a Fire Nation steamship’s journey from the northern-most tip of the South Pole to the Fire Lord’s city was a fortnight without stops. They had left about a week ago. A week was left by Lu Ten’s estimation if not less. The ship was moving much faster than usual, especially at the rate that the furnaces were being fed.

He did not tell Katara about his suspicions. Ever since the soldiers had taken her mother’s body away—the hallway outside the brig had become redolent with the smell of rot—she had been like a ghost. He imagined that the Water Tribe had their own customs for dealing with their dead. He assumed that the body had been either thrown overboard or cremated. Either outcome wouldn’t have been cathartic to Katara.

As for Yon Rha, if Ozai really wanted to milk this, he was probably going to give Yon Rha a proper burial once they arrived at the palace, invite Yon Rha’s mother to weep over his grave, and point toward his murderer, all in front of Fire Lord Azulon who would be obligated to punish him publicly.

As for Katara, she would be utilized just as Yon Rha predicted. She would be exposed as a waterbender and every Fire Nation soldier who had been under his command would attest to the fact that he had not killed her as Fire Nation navy protocol dictated, as the countless amounts of documentation, paperwork, and military occupation laws that he himself had imposed upon the Southern Water Tribe demanded. He had not only revealed himself as a hypocrite but as a traitor.

He regretted his actions but did not know if he would have acted differently if he could. Maybe, it was destiny. He wanted to ask Iroh about this, about his change of heart.

Though he was not a waterbender, they deprived both of them of water. Meagre tablespoons were passed through the slit in the door once a day and they took turns licking at the spoons like dogs until the water would run out. Lu Ten tried to be a gentleman, giving her most of the water but there was barely any to share to begin with.

“Why do they even bother? You can’t even bend properly!” He yelled out in frustration one day.

She only lifted a brow and sarcastically thanked him for the compliment.

The food wasn’t any better. Stale bread and spoiled stews. Katara would not touch the stews which were too spicy for her. He would try to ingest them just for the sake of their moisture, but the off-putting fermented taste overwhelmed his senses more often than not and he would push everything aside.

They would settle on breaking apart the stale bread and placing small pieces on their tongues, letting their saliva soften them into something edible.

Katara never complained and though he was regularly inclined to voice his annoyance, it didn’t feel right when a little girl wasn’t even grumbling about it.

She had been imprisoned in the brig for a month before he joined her. She must have grown used to it. Grown used to being in her own thoughts, in her own mind.

When Lu Ten had estimated that there were three days left before arriving to the Fire Nation, Katara approached him, almost formally.

“Ten?” She seemed nervous. “Do you think I could sink this ship?”

He startled at this. “With your waterbending, you mean?”

She nodded.

He humoured her. “Well, you would need to bend the water through the metal of this ship and exert sufficient force to overturn it. Can you even make the waves high enough to engulf it?”

She cringed. “It was just an idea.”

“Plus, we would both drown and go down with the ship.”

“I could save us!” Katara’s brows curved. She was angry now.

“You’re untrained; you have as much chance killing us as saving us.” 

She crossed her arms and jutted her lip. “The Avatar could do it.”

‘Yeah, well the Avatar doesn’t exist.’ He thought. No point kicking her when she was down.

She tried another approach, she folded her knees and leaned toward him, grabbing his elbow. “Ten, I know we’re getting close. Even if you think you’re hiding it from me.”

He looked at her face which he remembered used to be a warm golden colour and was now grey and dirty.

“Yeah, we’re almost there.” He admitted.

“When we get there, they’re going to kill me. Maybe not right away but eventually. And…” Her brows drew in confusion. “Honestly, I don’t even know what they’re going to do to you. Has a member of the royal family ever been charged with treason?”

He thought back on all those stories from his history lessons, no one charged with treason had ever met with a happy fate. “Not in recent history.”

She frowned.

He needed to turn this conversation around. “Listen, Katara. My dad is not going to stay in the dark about this forever. He’s the Dragon of the West, conqueror of Ba Sing Se, Fire Ruler of the Earth Kingdom. He commands a lot of power and respect across the Fire Nation. Once he finds out about this, he’s going to take care of things for me and…I’ll ask him to make sure that you get back home.”

She gave him a watery smile and slinked back to her corner.

There, that should fix things. She should feel better now.

Lu Ten shut his eyes, ready to sleep.

Then, she started to bawl.

***

The ship had stopped moving. Katara knew enough now about ships to tell the difference between a moving one and a docked one. Lu Ten had become oddly statuesque, refusing to entertain her questions or even look at her.

He seemed nervous.

Katara was too sad to feel nervous but somehow, she felt hope slowly creep back into her heart. Sure, her mom was dead. Sure, she was in the Fire Nation. Sure, she was probably—no, definitely—going to die but things weren’t so bad. At least she would see the sun, the sky, maybe even the moon? She would be getting out of this putrid cell. She would see the ocean again. She might even be able to drink more than a few tablespoons of water at a time. Won’t that be nice.

She was used to cranking noises, thumping noises, even blaring horns. The creek of footsteps approaching their brig was something else that she was familiar with and like some conditioned response, her mouth began to salivate at the idea of water passing through the door.

The door opened. That was new. Usually they just opened the flap that covered the slit at the door.

A figure entered. At first, Katara thought that it was Ozai again but then she noticed the distinguishing features. His hair was not black but grey. He was not burly but portly. Though, he was strong and sturdy. He had kind eyes and a strong mouth.

Lu Ten got to his feet, stepping forward.

“Dad—”

Katara also stood up, taking several steps back. If there was one lesson that she learned, it was that the Fire Nation could not be trusted.

The man that Katara now knew was the Dragon of the West cut him off. “Lu Ten, we need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Lu Ten knew that he should feel relieved to see his dad. But seeing Iroh stand in the middle of the dingy cell, Lu Ten’s body turned numb, cold sweat streaked down his spine, gathering at the small of his back. Whatever relief he was supposed to feel was supplanted by pure mortification. He had spent all those months ignoring his father’s letters, convinced that he knew best, that he knew what he was doing, only to end up in prison. His pride could not recover from this.

Iroh, though circumspect, didn’t betray an inch of disdain or anger at reuniting with Lu Ten in such reduced circumstances. He didn’t even scowl at the smell, at the sight of Lu Ten’s visible malnutrition, at the overflowing chamber pot in the far corner of the cell. And for that, Lu Ten was a trifle gratified.

Above all, it was nostalgia for Iroh’s familiar geniality that made Lu Ten melt into sanguinity, reflexively obeying when his dad gestured for him to sit on the floor across from him.

Lu Ten tracked the changes on his father’s face. His beard was neatly trimmed, his crown coifed seamlessly on his head. His clothes were perfectly ironed, made of the finest silk, and on his lapel, he wore an Earth Kingdom crest of pure gold encircled by a ring of fire. Despite Iroh’s quibbles on war ethics a year ago, he seemed to have embraced his new role quite comfortably.

Lu Ten fidgeted with the hem of his tunic.

Iroh smiled but Lu Ten could not return it. The numbness was still there, the cold sweat still seeped through his clothes, and Iroh had not closed the cell door behind him. At the threshold, several armoured sentinels stood at the ready.

Ozai’s spies.

Unperturbed, Iroh began plating a feast out of a quaint yet cumbersome picnic basket. Lu Ten suppressed a groan. His dad never could pass up an opportunity to make a spectacle.

From the basket, Iroh took out fresh mangoes and papaya, lotus biscuits, fire flakes, and most wonderfully, a steaming pot of jasmine tea. The floral notes of the tea wafted in the air, bringing Lu Ten back to his boyhood, to a time when having tea with his dad was the best part of his day.

Iroh looked over his shoulder, the guards were facing away. He brought his index finger to his lips, wriggling his eyebrows triumphantly.

As much as Lu Ten wanted to talk to his dad, strategize, and get the hell out of this cell, his tongue felt too dense for chatter, it only wanted to eat.

Lu Ten forsook every etiquette lesson he had ever taken. He guzzled tea, mango juice dribbled down his chin, he shoved fistfuls of fireflakes down his throat. The spice gathered in the corner of his lips.

The fruit was tart and as sweet as only Fire Nation fruit could be. The biscuits were crisp and freshly baked. The fireflakes pleasantly stung his tongue which called for more tea. No matter how much he drank, it was never enough, the thirst was always there, at the back of his throat.

Katara was also there, also thirsty, standing in her corner of the cell, wriggling uncomfortably.

Sensing that Lu Ten’s attention had shifted, Iroh also peered at Katara, noting her sunken eyes, her dirty face, and beamed.

“Who is this lovely girl?”

Katara acted like she had not heard, like she was alone, and like she wasn’t cruelly enticed by the most amount of food and water she had seen in weeks.

Pouring fireflakes from the bag straight into his mouth, Lu Ten answered, his mouth full. “The waterbender: Katara. I’m sure you’ve heard of her by now, of the incident.”

“Of the incidents, you mean. Yes, the Fire Lord has been made aware and well—”

“The Fire Lord?” Lu Ten exclaimed, dropping fireflakes into the fold of his collar.

Iroh shushed him. “…news travels fast once Fire Lord Azulon is angry.” Iroh put a hand on his shoulder. “Son, I know everything. I know what you’ve been charged with, and the story Ozai is spinning. I suspect that I also know you well enough to guess at your side of the story too.”

Lu Ten opened his mouth. He wanted to tell him everything. No more secrets, no more guessing.

“But let’s not get into that right now. We wouldn’t want you to risk incriminating yourself even further.” Iroh murmured, looking over his shoulder. “The walls have ears.”

Iroh turned his head back toward Katara who was still facing away, her shoulders rigid, her feet planted firmly on the floor. “I brought enough food for you both, Katara, dear. Please help yourself.”

Katara gave no sign that she understood and Lu Ten sighed.

He gave his dad a knowing look and spoke up. “Katara, come. I promise upon my honour that it’s safe.”

Only then did Katara abandon her asceticism, tiptoeing toward them, and dropping cross-legged a foot away from Lu Ten. As much as she tried to appear indifferent, her attention kept gravitating back to the untouched cup of Jasmine tea on the floor.

Iroh picked it up, urging her to take it.

She moved like she was in a dream, like she didn’t quite believe that she was being trusted with so much water at once. Her fingers carefully caressed the rim of the ceramic cup, lifting it to her lips. She cautiously lapped at the tea and then, hastily swigged the rest of it. She set the cup gently back on the floor before Iroh, too reticent to ask for more.

Iroh mutely refilled her cup with all the tea that remained in the pot, shook the pot satisfactorily as though making sure it was empty, and walked toward the door.

“My dears, could I trouble you for some more tea? I have several pots simmering on my ship.”

The guards approached the threshold and one of them demurred. “Your highness, sir, with all due respect, the waterbender—”

“Haven’t I already explained this to you? Waterbenders can’t bend tea. Tea is not water. She’s not a teabender, she’s a waterbender. And…” Iroh chortled. “They don’t call me the Dragon of the West for nothing. I can handle a little girl.”

The guards looked at each other for a few beats and unanimously shrugged. It was impossible to refuse the Dragon of the West anything.

Iroh thanked them and spewed a long list of instructions on how to steep the tea, how many people were required to brew the tea, from where the water needed to be retrieved (the kitchen on the second ship that was docked by the first one, not the third one, the second one, yes), the exact heat of the flame, and how often the tea leaves needed to be rinsed (three times, unless you found a pebble mixed in with the tea leaves, then you needed to get a new batch).

“You must understand, dears, tea-brewing is an art that I take very seriously. I cannot respect anyone that spoils a good pot of tea.” He clapped. “Now, get to it.” 

The guards nodded solemnly, leaving with the pot in their hands.

Iroh waited a few seconds for their footsteps to fade away and closed the gap of the door even further, leaving only a sliver open.

“Wouldn’t want to lock ourselves in, would we?” Iroh chuckled. “We can talk freely now, at least until they come back.”

Lu Ten set down the fireflakes. “Dad, what are we going to do?”

Iroh’s face grew solemn at the question. “I’m going to challenge Ozai to an Agni Kai.”

Lu Ten shook his head.

“It is the only way that I can legitimately confront him. If I win, to preserve his honour, Ozai will have to concede to my conditions. I will demand that he free you from prison and clear you of all charges.”

“And if he wins?”

“Then, I would have to concede to his conditions.” Iroh acknowledged.

“If he wins, he will ask you to abdicate your inheritance. You will never become Fire Lord.” Lu Ten said.

“It is a small price to pay for my son’s life.”

Lu Ten thumped his fist on his thigh. “I should take your place. I should be the one challenging him.”

“Lu Ten, you are no match for Ozai, especially in this condition.” Iroh looked pointedly at Lu Ten’s weakened frame. “And more significantly, you have no honour to defend. You are in prison. You have been stripped of all your rights, all your titles.”

The numbness in his body surged. He had nothing.

“As long as you are considered a criminal under Fire Nation law, you are no longer a member of the royal family.”

A quiet settled over them which Katara eventually broke. “Where are they going to take us now that we’re docked?”

For the first time since he entered their cell, Iroh appeared uneasy. “I am negotiating for Lu Ten to be placed under house arrest at the palace. I am hoping that the Fire Lord is sufficiently on my side to make this happen.”

Katara’s jaw ticked in annoyance. “And what about me?”

“You will probably be taken to the Boiling Rock.”

Lu Ten’s breath hitched.

“I’m guessing that’s not good.” Katara mumbled.

Iroh nodded.

A shuffle at the threshold signalled the guards’ return.

Iroh nudged the door back open, bringing his finger back up to his lips, reminding them to watch what they said.

“Please, help yourselves to some more papaya.” He pressed Katara who refused, grabbing a handful of lotus biscuits instead.

Iroh poured them each two more cups of tea, keeping the conversation light and innocuous. Far too soon, a knock at the door summoned him away and Iroh left with only a promise that he would return as soon as he could.

Lu Ten was no longer a prince. The numbness zapped through his body like lightning. What would happen if his title was never reinstated? He would not sit on the Fire Throne. He would not rule. He would be nothing. He would lose everything. His palms grew cold. His heartbeat slackened and quieted. He had lost everything. All because of a little water tribe girl.

She sat huddled in the corner, nibbling on what was left of the biscuits that Iroh had brought. She was such a small thing, broken in pieces that would never quite fit back together again. Yet, she was so stubborn, so resilient.

She brushed the lotus biscuits crumbs off her parka. She refused to take it off, like a kid holding onto her childhood blanket. She had lost everything too.

Lu Ten wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled.

“Katara, I promise, they’re not going to take you to the Boiling Rock. I will make sure you get home.”

Katara’s eyes shone like torches in the dark.

“You’re going right back to where you belong.” This was as much a promise to her as it was to himself. He would get back what he had lost too.

***

Zuko knew he didn’t quite belong. He didn’t need Azula to tell him that.

For a week, he had observed every single one of Azula’s training sessions. Azula had sparred against not one, not two, not three, but four master firebenders at once. She had defeated them all in half an hour without even breaking a sweat. Every single time.

During her last training session, he had asked to join. He had just wanted a shot at the challenge. He had wanted to show Azula that he could do it too.

She had laughed straight in his face.

Later that day, when Ozai had returned from his month-long business trip, Azula’s instructors had sung her praises and Ozai had gifted her a pendant, telling her that when she mastered lightning, he would gift her a gold chain to fasten it.

Azula had not wanted it. She had never cared for trinkets or ribbons. She didn’t even bother passing it along to her friends. For all her intellect, she did not quite understand the art of gift giving.

Later that day, she threw it at a flock of turtleducklings and did not bother retrieving it. Zuko had kept the pendant ever since. And Azula, having gone to school, did not ask for it again.

He was glad that she was gone, that father had sent her to a girl’s academy to be a prodigy among prodigies. When she eventually generated lightning, at least he wouldn’t be there to watch her do that too.

When he had asked his father if he could go to school too, he had received a burning slap in response. Sometimes, late at night, when his left cheek smarted with the memory of that slap, his hand would sink into his breast pocket, rubbing against the pendant that he had started keeping there, his fingernail edging the carvings on its rounded side.

Ozai had not stayed long after returning from his trip. He had left the palace again and Zuko was glad for that too.

Whenever his father would leave, walking the hallways of the palace would feel like walking on air, the walls breathed with every step. The birds would fly higher and the turtleducks would gather along the pond bank. Even mom would flourish, turning into a version of herself that Zuko loved unreservedly.

And yet, this time, it wasn’t like that.

This time, the palace in Ozai’s absence seemed to grow even murkier. Ursa was even more occupied, more distracted, more reticent. Fire Lord Azulon was angry and an angry Fire Lord was a scary Fire Lord.

Servants scurried from wing to wing. Attendants and ladies-in-waiting melded into tapestries. Guards were restless, nowhere and everywhere, all at once.

Only Azula remained unaffected. In her teasing letters to him, Azula was vibrant, thriving. Even all the way in boarding school, she seemed to have a better idea of what was going on in the palace then he did.

He didn’t bother responding to her. She could think whatever she wanted to think, about Ozai, about Iroh, about Lu Ten. At fourteen, he had long outgrown the age of fighting with his twelve-year-old sister.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it. He had been determined. Azula always lies.

But then, he had heard that Uncle Iroh’s ship had docked in the marina and something in him had shifted.

Uncle Iroh wasn’t supposed to come back. He had never said he was coming back. Everyone knew he had very important responsibilities in the Earth Kingdom.

If Uncle Iroh was back and Ozai was gone and Lu Ten was mysteriously missing in action, then something was up and it was probably closer to what Azula hinted at than anything else he could imagine.

***

Lu Ten had grown taciturn at the very moment that Katara wanted most desperately to have her questions answered. What was the Boiling Rock? What was an Agni Kai? Why was he longer a prince?

All he wanted to do was wear the steel down with his pacing.

Katara drummed her fingers against the floor. The steady click clack soothing her worries. “It’s kind of amazing how I ended up in a whole other place in just two weeks. I never even left my village before. Not in my whole life. And now, I’ve gone farther than any person I know.”

Lu Ten continued his pacing.

“Imagine if I swam all the way back to the South Pole from here, do you think I could make it?” Katara tried to picture using her waterbending to power her swim. “I think I would die out of pure exhaustion.”

Lu Ten’s pacing lost momentum and he looked up at Katara. “We did come here pretty fast.”

He resumed his pacing for a few more seconds before adding, “I’m surprised the boilers didn’t give out from the way they overworked them…The boilers are probably super damaged.”

“What happens if a boiler is damaged?”

“A dangerous accident, one overheated boiler and—” He mimicked an explosion with his fingers.

There was nothing that Katara wanted more than watching this ship go up in flames. To distract herself from the pangs of hunger, she amused herself, for the rest of the morning with daydreams about warships sinking into the deep sea as flames erupted from within.

It was Iroh that interrupted her fantasy and Katara didn’t know if she was glad to see him. As hungry and thirsty as she was, her loyalty couldn’t be bought through her stomach.

As soon as Iroh entered their cell, Lu Ten only had one question for him. “Could I have a gold coin?”

Iroh, perplexed, reached into his pocket. “What do you need it for?”

Lu Ten winked at Katara. “Good luck.”

After orchestrating another incident for the guards to leave them alone, Iroh ceased belabouring inanities. “The Fire Lord has agreed to forgive your crimes on the condition that Ozai also absolves you of them. No matter the outcome, your crimes have cost you your inheritance upon the Fire Lord’s death.”

Lu Ten stood up, resuming his habit of pacing the length of the cell. “What about my royal title?”

“The Agni Kai will decide that.”

“Ozai will never let go of this. My crimes will forever be a stain on my honour.” Lu Ten held his head in his hands.

“I have no choice. If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in prison, I must challenge my brother to an Agni Kai.”

Katara knew that there was no point in bringing up that old argument again. Whatever an Agni Kai was, Lu Ten was not qualified to participate in one.

“I can’t stand this!” Lu Ten groaned.

Iroh shrugged. “We’ll try our best. That’s all that can be done.”

Katara looked up to find Iroh standing in front of her. “Here, Katara, dear, I’ll leave this cup of tea with you. You barely drank anything.”

As Iroh closed the door behind him, Lu Ten launched toward the door, quietly sliding the gold coin into the latch. The lock didn’t click into place as it usually did.

“What did you do that for?” Katara probed, reaching for her cup of tea to drink.

Instead of answering, Lu Ten stopped her hand. “Don’t drink that!”

“Why…?”

“Do you think you could practice turning that tea to vapour and then back again? Have you ever done it before?”

“Only by accident…but I could probably figure it out.”

“Could you figure it out by tonight?”

Katara thought for a moment before nodding. She just needed to figure out the right angle to twist her fingers and she could probably do it with a little effort.

“Why by tonight?”

“We’re going to escape.”

Katara didn’t question him after that. Questions would only make him change his mind. If Lu Ten was going to break them out, it was because he really thought that there was no hope, that his father would lose the Agni Kai challenge, that he would never become prince again, and that Katara wouldn’t survive the Boiling Rock. She wasn’t going to rock that boat.

As Katara practiced her bending, Lu Ten explained his plan. “Remember how we were talking about the boilers?”

“The damage? Yeah.”

“If you figure out how to evaporate water, then you should be able to help me get rid of all the water in the boilers. If the boilers have no water in them, it’ll make them explode, especially if they’re overheated.”

Lu Ten stared down at his hands. “Being in prison for two weeks has weakened by bending. The hallways were always so full of people feeding the boilers, we would’ve been detected in an instant. I wouldn’t have been able to fight them off.”

Katara twisted her fingers and a quarter of the tea turned to mist.

“Now that we’re docked, there are less people coming and going. There’s only an influx of guards whenever Iroh visits and he’s not coming again today.”

Katara curved her index and half of the tea turned to mist.

“If you bend with me, I think we would be able to do it together.”

“Make the ship explode?” Katara asked. For the first time in weeks, a smile lit her face.

Lu Ten smiled back.

***

When night fell, Zuko knew what he had to do.

He clothed himself in black and sheathed his dao broadswords, faltering at the indignity of relying on steel rather than flame.

He didn’t bother covering his face. He was stealthy enough to avoid being seen. Even if he was spotted, without his royal attire, he just was another Fire Nation boy.

He climbed down the trellis along the wall of his balcony. The palace gardens were peaceful, soundless, and a little unkempt in the face of so much change. It was late enough for servants to be asleep and for Ursa to be secluded in her rooms. Guards marched along their normal patrol routes which Zuko had long ago memorized and easily circumvented.

Reaching the outermost wall of the palace, Zuko perched along an outcropping brick and launched himself over the edge. The wind drove his hair back and his fingers twinged with the thrill of it. He jumped from the coping stone, landing on a soft patch of grass.

Sprinting brought him freedom. Leaping onto house awnings, climbing up on roofs, meant that he could live his own life for once, his own destiny. Who cared about firebending lessons, of schools he wasn’t allowed to attend, of disapproving fathers, when he had this?

Soon, he arrived at the shore and easily spotted Iroh’s ship with the red and green emblem flags symbolizing the conquest of Ba Sing Se. A few yards away from it was another ship he recognized, a flagship that bore the crest of the Southern Raiders: Lu Ten’s ship.

The sea was still, pebbled with the cyclic waves lapping against the dike. Every docked ship was also still. Except for Lu Ten’s. Lu Ten’s ship shook.

Its shaking was not so evident as to be noticeable by its crew. It could have been easily mistaken for a particularly strong wave hitting against the ship’s hull. But Zuko noticed it. He noticed how it stood out against the backdrop of dozens of other ships that remained steady.

He could not go to his uncle now. Something was happening on Lu Ten’s ship and he needed to figure out what.

He climbed onto the ship from the stern which faced away from the docks. The soldiers loitered on the decks but the night’s ennui made them inattentive, and Zuko easily slipped passed them heading toward the captain’s quarters where he knew he would find Lu Ten.

The door to his quarters were open and through the crack he saw his father sitting at Lu Ten’s desk, sifting through reports at the light of a waning candle. Zuko gasped and bolted out of view.

If his father saw him now, the slaps that he had received in the past would feel more like pats on the head. And, if Ozai was in Lu Ten’s quarters, that could only mean that Lu Ten was in trouble.

Zuko understood his father’s cruelty. If he had gotten rid of Lu Ten, it must have been as Azula had long ago predicted. Lu Ten was dead, either thrown overboard or killed in an Agni Kai.

But Zuko could not shake away another possible fate for Lu Ten. Lu Ten could be merely injured in the sickbay or worse, imprisoned in the brig.

The layout of most Fire Nation ships was the same. In his military education, they had gone over the Fire Nation navy. He knew the sick bay of warships was near the bow, closer to the bridge. As for the brig, it was common practice to place it in the lower decks of the ship where the boilers stood.

It would be a gamble to venture near the bridge which would be teaming with soldiers. If Lu Ten wasn’t in the brig then he was either dead or in the sick bay, either way, there was nothing that Zuko could do to help him in those cases. But, if Lu Ten was imprisoned, Zuko felt that he was crafty enough to avoid detection and at least confirm his suspicions.

The lower decks of the ship were mostly empty. There was no need for stokers to feed the furnace so only a few idlers loitered in the hallway which Zuko easily eluded.

The door to the brig was a heavy steel door with a flap covering a narrow slit at its base. Zuko lifted the flap and peered inside.  Even though it was dark in the cell, he could not make out the shapes of anyone.

He pulled away just as the ship started to vibrate. The vibrations had not been so evident on the upper decks but seemed to be radiating from the boilers.

Zuko crept, his hand against the steel wall, feeling the tremors intensify as he neared the boilers.

He spotted the shadow of two figures and froze. Were there engineers or stokers down here trying to deal with the malfunctioning boilers?

He caught Lu Ten’s voice. “We don’t have enough power…”

And then, the soft tones of a girl, a voice that had no place on a ship. “We don’t have to stop. We can keep trying.”

“Katara, we should just go. We don’t need to follow through with this.”

Katara shrieked in frustration. “We have to do this!”

Zuko breathed. There could be no harm in revealing himself.

“What are you trying to do?”

The two figures tensed and Lu Ten’s head whipped toward him.

“Zuko!”

Zuko noted Lu Ten’s bedraggled state. He had been right. Something bad had happened. “Whatever you’re trying to do I can help!”

“Thank the spirits!” Lu Ten clasped Zuko’s hand. “All this time in prison has weakened me and Katara’s a novice.”

Zuko looked at the girl, Katara, and was instantly bewildered by the sight of the sea itself in her eyes.

Unlike Zuko, Lu Ten felt the urgency of the situation and promptly returned to his task, blasting fire straight against the boilers’ casing. Katara also went back to work, twisting her fingers, bending, in a way that Zuko had never seen before.

As Lu Ten had said, his flame was weak, not nearly hot enough to affect the boilers in any way. Zuko was not a master firebender but even his fire blasts were hotter.

“What are you trying to do?”

It was Katara that answered with an avid gleam sparking her eyes. “We’re going to make the ship explode.”

If Zuko had been any other person, he would have been scandalized at such a proclamation. But he knew pain and he knew that pain drove people to desperation. What had brought him here, in the middle of the night, to Lu Ten’s ship, in the first place if it was not a desperate flight from pain?

Zuko mirrored Lu Ten’s stance and sent a clean torrent of fire against the outer shell of the boilers. The vibrations shook all three of them, but they maintained their balance. With Zuko’s efforts, the boilers began to glow red, the shaking intensified.

Lu Ten extended his hand, stopping them. “We need to go.”

“Will it be enough?” Katara asked.

“It’ll work but we have to go. We don’t want to be here when everything goes to shit.”

The boilers juddered, rocking the ship, making Katara stumble. Then, the vibrations deepened, the steel walls and floors of the ship quivered so strongly that Zuko felt like his own bones were shaking in time.

“Run!” Lu Ten yelled, sprinting out of the room and leading them away.

For a fleeting moment, Zuko thought about Ozai at Lu Ten’s desk. Would he make it out?

They got to the mid-decks with no trouble but as they reached the upper decks, soldiers began noticing them, yelling out in surprise. They didn’t realize that a bigger threat loomed a few seconds away.

Lu Ten dispensed killing blows to each person that tried to stop them, paving the way for Zuko and Katara to pass.

As Zuko ran forward, the footsteps behind him grew fainter, and he turned back. Katara was lagging. Her breath was shallow, but she did not stop.

Zuko sprung and grabbed her hand, tugging her forward. Lu Ten was getting far ahead of them.

“Don’t give up, we’re almost there.”

The steel beneath their feet seemed to buck beneath them but they kept going, kept moving upward. If the ship’s occupants had been unaware of the pending disaster, they couldn’t remain ignorant now. Clamour nipped at their ankles. Soldiers, guards, and sailors began to flood the upper decks. They would be spotted soon.

Lu Ten stopped at the bulwark at the ship’s bow. He turned back, watching as Zuko hauled Katara forward. The whole ship rocked, stirring the waves beneath.

Lu Ten dived and Zuko couldn’t tell if he had landed on water or land. Zuko and Katara approached the edge.

“Can you jump?”

She gave a sluggish nod.

“You go first.”  

She bent over the bulwark, breathed, closed her startling blue eyes, and jumped.

It was Zuko’s turn now. He climbed over the bulwark and could barely make out the faint shadow of Lu Ten running with Katara in hand.

He leapt but something pulled him back by the collar, strangling him.

It was Ozai. He caught Zuko by the shoulders, pulling him forward as his thumbs burned through the black fabric of his jacket.

The ship rocked, pitching into the shallow sea.

Ozai gave him a long searing stare and pushed him over the edge.

Zuko pummeled to the hard ground of the pier. A crack echoed and he howled.

Ozai landed next to him, jerking him back up by his collar, forcing him to stand on his legs.

Zuko staggered. His vision blackened.

Ozai ran with Zuko’s shoulder inflexibly trapped in his hand.

A rumble like thunder echoed. Like an infection, heat spread. A high whistling sound pierced the night’s quiet.

A boom. A funeral gong. Everything erupted.

An upsurge of heat swept their backs, debris flew, hitting Zuko’s legs, digging into his scalp. His ears buzzed, a persistent sparkfly tunneled through. It landed somewhere in his brain.

Ozai was unaffected. Escaping the impact area, Ozai slowed to a stride. Zuko’s shoulder wrenched with every step.

His legs liquefied and he sunk to the ground. Blood trickled down his cheek. There were three or four Ozais in front of him.

Zuko tilted his head back. The world was upside down and toward the sea, a blaze roared. Lu Ten’s ship was gone, replaced by a million pieces of steel and ash.

Ozai lifted his leg and dug it into Zuko’s chest. His ribs cracked.

“I expect you back at sunrise.”

The sparkfly flew away and Zuko closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Lu Ten pumped his legs, lightning coursed through his veins, but he did not stop. His life was over and he could not stop. If Azulon doubted he was a traitor before, there could be no doubt of it now. He had not just killed one subordinate; he had killed hundreds. He had destroyed Fire Nation property, fled the Fire Lord’s judgement, and absconded with a waterbender. Losing his title was the least of his problems now. 

He knew that Katara was struggling to keep up. Her bulky Water Tribe attire weighed her down. He was sure that the weeks of starvation and dehydration did not help her case. But he could not stop. He did not know where he was going only that it was away from the docks. Maybe he could just keep running. Could someone even outrun catastrophes of their own making?

“Stop! Stop!” Katara clutched her ribs.

“We can’t stop! They’ll find us.” Lu Ten grabbed the dangling sleeves of her parka.

She twisted out of his grasp. 

The furs of her parka were warped, the grime and sweat of the past weeks weighing them down even further so that it slid off her shoulders as though begging to be thrown away. He wondered if Katara would be as difficult to shrug off as that coat.

“I think we should split. We’ll be more noticeable travelling together anyway.”

She brushed her fingers against her eyelids, catching tears that had formed as soon as he admitted that he did not want her. “How am I supposed to get home, then?” 

He wavered, remembering his promise and willfully ignoring it. “You’ll figure it out.” 

Katara frowned. 

“I have my own problems to deal with.” 

Katara shot forward, gripping his tunic with her palms. “Please, Ten. You promised.” 

Lu Ten looked up. The sun was rising, its light peeking through a motley of clouds still stained with the dark of night.

He extricated himself from her fingers and she swung her hands back to her sides. Her face contorted in anger as the tears now streamed freely down her face.

“Ok, if you want to stay together, we will. I’ll help you find your way back home.” He stretched his arm toward her. 

She slapped his hand away. “No! I don't need you! I’ll find my way back…on my own!”

Without another glance at him, she turned and ran away, straight back toward the docks.

***

“We’ve been summoned.”

Ursa sprung out of her slumber. Her limbs ached as though she had been running miles.   

Ozai stood at the foot of her bed. It was not in his habit to come to her rooms. He had a weary look. His long hair flowed at his back in hard knots. Small almost imperceptible scratches marked his face.

Ursa hadn’t even known that he had come back. All this time she had assumed that he was still posted at the docks, overseeing Lu Ten’s imprisonment and combing through his office for anything he could use to challenge the Fire Lord’s blatant favouritism for his firstborn grandson.

“What happened?”

“Lu Ten happened.” He muttered darkly, as she quickly secured a silk robe over her nightgown and expertly tied her hair into a bun, held in place by her crown. “All of that evidence that I had against him turned to ashes!”

More quietly, he asked. “Did you know that your son has been sneaking out of the palace?”

Ursa’s fingers that had been delicately smoothing the stray hairs into her bun stilled.

“He was on Lu Ten’s ship.” 

Ursa laughed forcefully. “Ah! You know how teenage boys can be. Looking for adventure. He probably just wanted to hear news about his cousin…Did you catch him? Where is he now?”

“He was on the upper deck. He’ll be back at dawn if he knows what’s good for him.”

Ursa strived to calm her trembling fingers. “Is he hurt?”

“Nothing that he didn’t deserve.”

Ursa exhaled unsteadily.

“The ship exploded.” He then grumbled under his breath about boilers and how Lu Ten was somehow involved. “Zuko was about to run away from the explosion when I caught him.”

“You think Zuko had something to do with it too?” She kept her tone even; panicking would get her nowhere.

“There were so many soldiers. How could he have made it to the lower decks without getting caught?” He said as they walked down the hallway to the heart of the palace. “I’ll have to interrogate him when he returns.” 

Entering the throne room, Ursa chocked on the heat emanating from the wall of fire in front of the dais. It burned at a colossal height, tinged with the white of the hottest fire. The air itself was fevered by the flames. 

Iroh was prostrate, his face emotionless, save for the barely noticeable streak of tears gathering along his cheekbone.

“Ah! So, you’ve survived the explosion, Ozai. How that pleases me.” Azulon did not sound like a father relieved at reuniting with his son.

Ozai bowed in response,

The Fire Lord continued. “From what my advisors have been telling me, this is the worst navy disaster in Fire Nation history.”

Ozai glanced long at Iroh’s supplicating form.“I believe I know the cause of the explosion.”

“Overworked boilers!” Iroh interjected, lifting his head for the first time since they had entered.

“Boilers that were a stone throw’s away from your son’s cell!” Ozai said. “If he really had nothing to do with it then he would have drowned like the hundred other loyal Fire Nation soldiers that did not make it out on time.”

Iroh looked Ozai dead in the eye. “I will defend my son’s honour against your lies.” He stood, fire engulfing his fists. “I challenge you to an Agni Kai.”

Azulon’s wall of fire soared even higher, an implicit threat to consume the whole room. Ursa kept her hand firm on the hot metal of the handle biting into her palm.

“You will have your Agni Kai, Iroh, but if you lose, you lose everything: your inheritance, your son, the Fire Nation. Don’t fall on your sword for your son’s crimes.” He was not in the habit of counselling his children but he had always favoured Iroh. It would not be easy for Ozai to break that bond.

“If he is convicted of his crimes, my brother will not rest until my son is executed.” Iroh said.

“Then you will have to win if you want to be master of your own fate.” Azulon said.

“And if I win?” Iroh asked calmly. “What conditions can we agree upon?”

Azulon looked toward Ozai. “There are no servants here. We can speak frankly.” 

“Ozai, it would be a punishment for me to give you the throne. To give the throne to the son that tried to have me killed at his wife’s hands.” 

Ursa gasped, throwing herself to the ground, silently begging for mercy that she knew she didn’t deserve. Some part of her had always known that Azulon knew that she had been the cause of his illness, that she had been poisoning for close to a year. She knew now without a doubt that he was well-informed of her and Ozai’s schemes. No matter what she did, she would always be on the losing side. 

Azulon laughed grimly. “I was not the only one to suffer at your hands, Ozai. Lu Ten, my dearest grandchild, his crimes, though great, can be forgiven when we look at your crimes which are far more weighty.”

Ozai slowly sunk to the ground, bowing his head in a pantomime of forgiveness. 

“If you win the Agni Kai, you will take your brother’s place. Your children will take Lu Ten’s place.”

Ozai’s head was still bowed, still solemn, though the triumph that illuminated his features could not be masked. Ursa, still prostrate in fron of the Fire Lord, knew that he could live with that. The whole world could burn and he wouldn’t care as long as he got what he wanted in the end. 

“But know this: the people of the Fire Nation adore Lu Ten, and more than that, they revere the Dragon of the West. Tales are told recounting his deeds, his prowess, his wisdom, and his strength. Legends will be passed down of a fire prince that has conquered the unconquerable city of Ba Sing Se. If, upon my death, they clamour for the son of that prince—Lu Ten—to take his place on the throne…Well, nothing is assured in that case.” 

Ozai broke his mask of humility and stood up. “That is why Lu Ten will have to die. He needs to pay for the lives that he has taken!” 

“Pay for the lives he has taken or promise that he will not usurp you?” Azulon said. 

Ozai did not speak though the answer was obvious. There was nothing that Ozai feared more than being overthrown once he came to power.

“If you lose Ozai, your wife will pay the price of your crimes. I will have her and your firstborn son killed.” Ozai did not stagger, did not beg, did not flinch. He accepted those terms like they were nothing more than an invitation to an afternoon tea ceremony.

“No!” Ursa dove toward the throne, uncaring for the flames that licked at her robes. “Please, my lord, kill me but spare my son!”  

The Fire Lord had no patience for her hysterics. He spoke as though she was not pleading at his feet. “If you win, Iroh, you will keep your place on the throne and Lu Ten as your heir. And, I will forgive his crimes.”

The fire blazed to even greater heights and Ursa was forced to move away from the Fire Lord’s throne. Her plea for mercy had only fallen on deaf ears.

***

Zuko felt like his leg was a tooth that needed to be pulled out. Hot waves of pain ran through his veins. It hurt to breathe. As much as he wanted to surrender to a dreamless sleep, he stayed stuck in limbo. Dawn was coming. He did not want to face the world nor his father.

Zuko sat up and pain stabbed him in the lungs. He tried breathing but couldn’t catch any air. He got on his knees, still struggling for breath, when another bout of agony arrested him. 

His leg was all wrong. 

He laid back down, looking out at the docks. The sun was rising over the horizon. Ozai was waiting for him. It was all he could think about. The thought rang in time with the breaths that rattled in his chest.

“What happened to you?”

Zuko’s eyes sprang open. It was that girl. She was standing over him. Katara. A halo of early dawn light encircling her head like a crown. 

Zuko groaned, lifting his arm over his head.

She knelt over him, searching his face for something. She looked into his eyes with a long, hard, unforgiving turn to her mouth. Her perusal must have revealed something to her because her look gradually softened into an expression of pure empathy.

Then, she poked his leg. 

He screamed.

“Your leg is swollen. Looks broken.” 

Her eyes scanned the neighborhood. There were only a few street lanterns hanging above them, not nearly enough to get an idea of where they were or what they needed to do.

“We need to get you out of the way. We’re out in the open.” Her arm reached under him and he grunted, that feeling of not being able to breathe returning in full force.

“I…need…to…get…” 

“Let’s just get out of here first, then we can talk.” 

Every step they took rekindled every scratch, bruise, and break in his body. He loathed to rest too much of his weight on her but as they rounded a corner, he staggered and to his amazement, she caught him with some secret reserve of strength that laid hidden in her small stature. 

She rolled him into a ditch, and he bit back a cry. Water soaked through his clothes.

“There’s a lot of water here. I could try to heal you. I haven’t really done it before. Well, I almost did it, but I never tried to do it again. I could try now…if you want?”

Zuko moaned.

Katara seemed to take that as a yes. She slowly folded the hem of his pants over his knee. Through half-closed eyes, Zuko watched as she gathered water in her hands. It wrapped around her left palm like a glove. 

She placed it on his shin and nothing happened. The water sat in globules over his leg, supported by her bending. He had never seen anyone bend anything other than fire. It was so strange to see the bending of an element that was so harmless, so devoid of any danger. Then, a glow began to emanate, lighting up her face into something of the spirit realm. The light grew stronger, dancing on her cheeks. And he wondered if she was actually a spirit in disguise, a guardian sent just for him.

So distracted was he by her furrowed brow, her hand on his leg, and that strange glow that he hadn’t even noticed that the pain that had overwhelmed him so completely was gone, washed away like dust on the road after heavy rain. 

His arm reached out, pressing into his leg, experimentally. He felt no pain. 

His state of awe didn’t stop him from thinking about the other aches in his body too. “I think my ribs are also broken.” 

“Which side?” 

He pointed to his left and she lifted his shirt, palpitating his ribcage, as she reached for more water. And again, the same vision, the beautiful light, the miraculous blue and white spectre in the water, and her, wielding all the powers of life in her hand like it was nothing.

“I could heal your face too if you want.”

Zuko’s hand lifted up to his face feeling the cuts and bruises on his chin and forehead. He had forgotten about those. “No, that’s ok…” Ozai would grow suspicious if he came to the palace completely unscathed. 

Katara dropped her hands, trying to direct the water back into the stream. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, she was trying so hard, and all for nothing. The water splashed back into her face, soaking the front tendrils of her hair.

“I don’t really have great control yet.” She mumbled.

“That’s ok. I’m not that great of a bender either.” 

From the shake of her head, Zuko knew that she was not convinced. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to make the ship explode.”

Zuko didn’t want to think about the explosion. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. A desperate attempt to get back at his dad. There was nothing noble about it.

Katara absent-mindedly swirled a miniature whirlpool into the stagnant water of the ditch. She wore her hair down but it was terribly tangled like she had tried brushing it with her fingers only to make it worse. Her face was much cleaner than it was a few hours ago. She had even discarded the heavy parka that she was wearing, replacing it with a garish Fire Nation nightgown.

“Do you know that guy that I was with?” 

Zuko propped himself on Katara’s shoulder to sit up. “Yeah, he’s my cousin.” 

“So, you’re a prince too?” She asked, almost hopefully. Her hands tentatively reached for his, holding on tight. “Can you help me get back home?” 

Zuko looked down at their hands and whispered.  “Where’s home?”

“The Southern Water Tribe.”

As Zuko opened his mouth to answer, Katara placed her finger on his lips. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

Zuko nodded slowly. In his short life, he had not much cause to make promises of any importance but he felt that if she wanted him to, he could promise her anything. “My uncle can help. He’s the Dragon of the—"

 “—West?  Yeah, I already met him.” Her expression darkened. “He wasn’t much help. He wants to fight his brother. I’m surprised that the Fire Nation is still standing with the way all of you are constantly at each other’s throats.”

“He wants to fight my dad?” 

Her eyes flickered in surprise at his words, as though she were considering him in a new light. “Yeah, in an Agni Kai, I think. What is that, exactly?” She asked, tilting her head up at him.

“It’s a firebending duel. Two firebenders fight for their honour. The rules are pretty simple, the first person to get hurt loses but they can only use classical firebending forms. My best guess is that Uncle is trying to defend Lu Ten in some way.”

Katara crossed her arms. “There’s no point. He ran away.”

So, Lu Ten ran away. Zuko would like to run away too. Far away from here, far away from his father. 

Up in the trees, birds started to chirp just as the trilling of the firehoppers in the grass grew quieter. Morning was coming. The sun would rise and it would be time to pay fohis actions.

“Katara, I have to go.”

“What? No!” 

“I have to get back to the palace. My dad is going to kill me if I’m not there.”

Desperation seemed to storm inside of her. “Take me with you! I’m really good at hiding. I won’t make a sound. I won’t bother you or ask you too many questions.” 

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Katara put her hand over her heart. “As soon as I find a way to get back to the Water Tribe, I’ll leave! No one will know I was ever there. I swear.”

“Alright!” Zuko conceded as his mouth began to twitch. That frilly nightgown with the gargantuan bows was a sight that he could no longer ignore now that the bulk of his pain was healed. “But you look ridiculous wearing that.”

“What? What’s wrong with it?” She lifted the hem of the dress, as though admiring it. “It was hanging in the garden of that house over there.” As she lifted her arm to point toward it, the sleeve of the gown slipped, revealing a giant scar along the length of her forearm. Being a firebender, Zuko had encountered a few nasty burns in his life but nothing like that, nothing that looked so intentional.

Seeing where his eyes were directed, she quickly pushed the sleeve back down and climbed out of the ditch. Zuko could do nothing else but follow.

As they walked toward the palace, he tried to coach her into mirroring his stealth, his ability to blend in, to pass unnoticed in the night, and she tried her best, surprising him with her ability to leap as high as he did and to run almost as fast. 

When they reached the outer wall of the palace, Zuko showed her which outcropping rocks to grip and how to swing her body to reach the coping. She struggled with that last part, falling with every single attempt as Zuko stared anxiously at the sky. The morning light was intensifying. He was late.

“It’s just that last rock that’s giving me trouble, it’s too far away for me to reach. Give me another chance!” 

Zuko didn’t answer her and instead, scrambled up to the top. When he peered back down at her, Katara’s face had paled, looking at him with rage and undeniable sadness, like she expected him to leave and not look back.

“Climb up. I’ll pull you up for this last bit.”

Her face regained its lost colour, tinged with the red of determination. She climbed up the wall, almost reaching the top, and just as she was about to lose her grip, Zuko’s arm shot down and pulled her up. 

She landed with her arm slung over his chest, laughing whole-hearted, and thanking him. 

Her arm felt heavy on his chest. Maybe his ribs hadn’t healed right. Why was it so difficult to breathe?

“The guards are at firebending practice right now and there are a lot of bushes that you can use to hide right here.”

“You’ll come get me?” 

Zuko knew that Katara didn’t want to hear any promises. But he would come back. He walked backwards, keeping her in his line of sight until she came to her senses and slipped out of view, looking for a hiding spot. 

When he had made sure that he could no longer catch a glimpse of the vivid red of her gown, he turned, heading for his father’s office.

As Zuko walked passed the turtleduck pond, he noticed his mother standing like a ghost in the reeds. She had been waiting for him.

She was silent for a long time. Her eyes catalogued the marks on his face, the bruises, and the cuts.

“I will not ask you what you have done, I only ask that you do not tell your father anything that will make him punish you more than he already has. Lie, omit facts, blame someone else, but don’t tell him the truth.”

Zuko’s stomach twisted at the thought of laying the blame of the explosion solely on Lu Ten.

“You’re a good boy, Zuko. Have pity on your mother and show some self-preservation.” 

“I don’t think I can.”

Her eyes were cold. “Zuko, if you don’t change, you’re going to get yourself killed.” When he shook his head, she added. “You’re going to get me killed.”

Zuko stiffened. His mother looked so tired, so scared. He didn’t think he had ever seen her like this before. “I won’t tell him what I did.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Just don’t make your lies obvious. Be smart. Don’t lie about facts that he already knows.”

Zuko watched as servants entered in and out of the palace, carrying banners, food, and incense. Fire Sages were being escorted and briefed. Nobles were eagerly chatting with much more energy than the hours of dawn could justify.

“What’s all this?” Zuko asked.

“Your father will be fighting your uncle at noon. You’ll be expected to make an appearance.” She said as though by rote. “Don’t show any emotion.” 

Zuko nodded. That was easier said than done. His worst fears were coming true. Katara was right. Iroh was fighting for a son that had abandoned him. 

“Your father is waiting for you. Remember what I said.” She kissed his forehead like she was imparting a blessing.

He bowed his head and headed to his father’s office.

His father didn’t have much to say. It was his fists that filled the silence of that room as they pummelled him to the ground, hitting the places on his body that Katara had painstakingly healed with her bending.

When he had tired himself out from roughing up his own son, Ozai whistled out a low threatening breath. “Did you see Lu Ten when you were on the ship, you worthless piece of shit?”

Zuko lifted himself off the ground, his mother’s words echoed in his mind, and he shook his head. “No, father, I did not see anyone.” 

He had been dismissed after that and as injured as he was, he had made it a point to go back to the gardens and look for Katara.

She wasn’t hiding in any of the bushes like she was supposed to. She was gone.

***

Lu Ten had filched some breakfast from a farmer on the outskirts of the city. He had changed his clothes. He had even washed as much of his body as he could while on the run. He didn’t know where he was going but his heart nonsensically called for him to go to Ember Island, the last place that he had felt free, loved, and happy. 

Approaching a group of travellers that were waiting for a cart heading for the city centre, he caught a few snatches of conversation that peaked his interest. Most of it was palace gossip. The capital city always had the best access to the royal family, especially with hundreds of capital residents employed as maids, servants, kitchen help, and gardeners. Palace gossip fed their imagination, entertained them during times of hardship and war. Thespians would reenact key episodes of palace drama. Lu Ten had even attended and thoroughly enjoyed a few plays about his own family once upon a time.

A voice among those gathered spoke about the Dragon of the West and his heart contracted. Since he had used his father’s gold coin to escape his cell, he hadn’t given much thought about Iroh. Lu Ten had hoped that by escaping his imprisonment, he was freeing his father from the obligation of fighting for his honour. But there were other things that he had not considered. He hadn’t thought of what Iroh would say when he found out Lu Ten had left Katara to fend for herself. He hadn’t thought of what Iroh would say when he had decimated that ship, exacting his revenge on all those soldiers that betrayed him for the likes of Yon Rha and Ozai.

“It’ll happen at noon. It was announced in the town square at tea time in the morning. All the nobles are invited to attend.” He heard one of the matronly women avidly recount.

Lu Ten’s spine grew rigid and he turned his head toward the travellers.

“An Agni Kai?”

“Yeah, the two royal brothers will be fighting in an Agni Kai.” The woman was facetiously slow in her reply. 

His plan hadn’t worked. His father was still fighting.

“What are the terms of the duel?” Lu Ten demanded. 

“Dunno…Looks like a fight for the throne.” One man answered a little more thoughtfully.

“No, I think this has something to do with Prince Lu Ten...” A pretty young woman contemplated.

The explosion hadn’t stopped Iroh from fighting his brother in an Agni Kai, if anything, it had galvanized him.

***

Katara had done exactly as she was told. She hid. And for the first hour of that early morning she was fine. Crouched in detritus under a red rhododendron bush, she felt safe, and she slept.

That was until someone started yelling at her to get out of there. 

“What you are doing?! What the hell are you wearing?! You should be in your uniform!” It was a servant storming toward her.

He wore a crisp white shirt and red pouffy trousers of a light and airy material, perfect for the Fire Nation heat. He had a pompous demeanour undercut by his flightiness. 

“You should be cleaning up the arena and I know that you were also assigned to help in the kitchens hours ago! Didn’t Li Yan give you your serving clothes for the Agni Kai?”

She shook her head ‘no’, not daring to speak, lest he recognize her foreign lilt. The servant sighed dramatically. “I’ll get you your damn uniform! It’s like I have to do everything here!”

Katara followed as he walked at a pace most people used for running, though somehow, he made it look like a smooth and careful amble in the park.

Katara tried her best to appear humble and docile but her flamboyant dress made her stick out too much. Servants passing through the hallways looked at her curiously. Their eyes lingering on the stupid frills of the nightgown she had stolen in the dark and the vibrant red of the cotton fabric. And to her horror, they occasionally glanced at her blue eyes, eyes that did not belong in the Fire Nation.

Arriving at a closet at the end of a narrow hall, the servant reached in and grabbed a stack of clothes. 

“This is for the kitchens.” He said pointing to the white and red uniform that matched his. “This is for serving the spectators during the Agni Kai.” This time, he pointed at an elaborate uniform of red and gold.

“You’re on dish duty. They need to be polished.” He ordered, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously.

He led her to a large washbasin. “When your done with the dishes, use the water to give yourself a scrub.” He sneered. “You’re positively filthy!”

Dish duty involved washing and polishing dishes to a shine that would rival any mirror. Each dish had an intricate design. And she heard the servants whisper that the gold rim was real, mined from the hottest volcanoes of the Fire Nation.

Polishing plate after plate, Katara did not feel oppressed by the sadness that had followed her since she was taken from the Southern Water Tribe. After seeing the ship explode just as she had always wanted, Katara’s propensity for hope had reawakened. 

The Fire Nation enemy was formidable. That was a given. But it could be defeated. If anything, it was just as fragile as these expensive plates in her hand, as impressive as they were breakable. For the first time, her hope was being nourished by something outside of herself: rebellion.

As Katara stacked the dishes, a hint of fear still niggled at her. If she was starting to hope now, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop. Hoping turned to wishing and wishing turned to expecting. She didn’t want to have her expectations squashed. It had already happened once. Lu Ten had done that.

That was why she had to leave. She had to leave before he left her. And that outcome wasn’t so bad. She had retraced her steps, she had found Lu Ten’s cousin again, and, by healing him, she had safeguarded that fragile hope of hers and found a way to survive another day.

A servant walked in with a fresh stack of dishes for her to work on and Katara, resigned, continued her work without complaint,

Maybe that’s why Lu Ten had left her. He needed to do whatever he could do ensure his own survival. Her presence would only hurt him. As angry as she was, she couldn’t begrudge Lu Ten. A bond had been forged between them in the hell of that cell. He had killed her mother’s killer. No matter what, she would owe him.

Drums rumbled in the distance like thunder. She hadn’t noticed the time pass. The sun was high above their heads now. 

A maid passed Katara and tutted at her progress. “Work never finishes here…Well, there’s nothing for it now. Get ready, we need people in the stands during the Agni Kai.”

Katara nodded, still too fearful to speak, and went into a corner to change into the more intricate costume.

She followed a group of young servants her age as they made their way to the stands. They carried platters of fruit, tea, and fire flakes. Lu Ten loved those. She had a plate of papaya in her hands, the smell of which made her slightly nauseous.

Approaching the arena, Katara’s eyes were drawn to a grandstand that faced the arena. On the stand, an old man sat on an ostentatious throne with torches of fire blazing behind him. It was the Fire Lord. Impossible to overlook for he had an oversized gold crown in the shape of a flame on his head. The band of the crown was crested with a humongous red ruby, bigger than her fist. On his right sat a beautiful lady with a similarly shaped crown of a much smaller size which was void of any adornments. She had a sweet face though her eyes were empty and expressionless. To the Fire Lord’s left was a face that she had wanted to heal but a few hours before, Zuko.

Adding to the countless cuts that she had seen were newer bruises that were blossoming around his left eye. Despite the new injuries, he did not betray any pain or distress though Katara could tell that anger simmered beneath the surface. He had changed out of his black garments into red, black, and gold brocade robes. If she hadn’t already known he was a prince, she wouldn’t have recognized him.

At opposite ends of the arena, stood two other people that she recognized, one, she tolerated and the other, she feared. 

Ozai wore only pants, his brawn on full display. He was being anointed with strange ceremonial oils by a man in pointed robes. He was chanting something that Katara did not understand. Ozai held his head high but his eyes were sharp, never letting Iroh out of his line of sight.

Iroh stood with much more humility. It seemed like overnight, the hairs on his head had turned more grey than black, making him look worn-out. He kept his tunic on. Though he had the type of belly that every epicure father tends to have, he had undeniable strength in his arms, in his legs, even in the expression of his face that was resolute and unforgiving.

The rhythm of the percussions grew faster, gongs joined, and a high-pitched flute began to play a fast, war-like tune. The crowd responded to the energy of the music, stomping their feet in time with the steady beat of the base drum. 

The crowd was mostly made up of nobles that had eager, calculating looks in their eyes. The servants were mainly focused on their tasks, the outcome of the Agni Kai only holding for them an interesting piece of gossip to partake in during their next meal.

Katara only thought of Lu Ten. Would he return if his father won?

As the music reached a peak crescendo, the Fire Lord stood up with one hand raised, silencing them all. The crowd was silent, gazing at the Fire Lord with complete deference. The servants had stopped serving food, setting their platters down, to genuflect toward the grandstand. 

Katara, for all her efforts to blend in, could not bring herself to do that. Instead, she sat in a far corner of a side aisle where she had a good view of the arena and further off, of Zuko. 

The Fire Lord gave a few inane statements of greeting. He imparted some nonsense about Fire Nation glory and honour. He recounted some ridiculous myth on the origin of the Agni Kai, its rules, its preservation of classical firebending forms. He then went off on a tangent about the Fire Nation’s victory in the hundred-year war, how they were spreading knowledge and power to the rest of the four nations. (Of course, minus the one that they had wiped straight off the earth.)

He did not discuss the terms of the Agni Kai. And Katara thought back on the conversations that Lu Ten had shared with Iroh. Whatever the royals had discussed behind closed doors was meant to remain a secret to their loyal subjects.

The Fire Lord then ceded to the figure in the pointed robes which Katara heard her neighbours refer to as a Fire Sage. 

The figure invited Iroh and Ozai to bow to each other. Iroh bowed as tradition dictated and Ozai barely dipped his head in acknowledgement. The crowd gasped at that effrontery.

The drums beat three more times followed by a breath of silence, and fire erupted in the palms of the two fighters, billowing smoke right toward the surrounding audience.

Katara had spent a year in the Southern Water Tribe watching Fire Nation soldiers intimidate her people with their bending. She thought she knew what to expect but this was something else. The force of Iroh’s whips of fire were so strong that they left deep scars into the arena floor. Ozai’s fireballs were thrown at incredible speeds with each one easily deflected by Iroh. The fire was so hot that Katara felt her face burning from its radiance. 

So far, they were equally matched.

Ozai had greater endurance but Iroh had more experience and strength. That strength was what shocked Katara when Iroh paused in the middle of the fight and breathed out a steady stream of fire straight out of his mouth and directly toward his brother. Katara understood now why he was called a dragon. Ozai jumped out of the way so quickly that Katara could only assume that Ozai had long expected Iroh’s breath of fire to make an appearance at some point during the fight.

The crowd clapped in delight as Iroh released another burst of fire from his lips, this time more potent than the last. Ozai had not been expecting that second hit and from Katara’s vantage point, she could see his frown lines deepening.

A third breath of fire was released and this time, Katara saw a lick of flame touch the back of Ozai’s pants burning into his skin. From what she understood, that should have signalled the end. He had been burned. The fight should be over but it seemed that if the Fire Sages had noticed anything, they did not show it for the fight went on for another hour.

As the day crept into afternoon, Katara could tell that Iroh, visibly older than Ozai, was growing tired. He had fought with much more grace and knowledge than his brother but that could only take him so far.

Katara perused the rest of the arena, the Fire Lord’s family on the grandstand were impassive but the rest of the attendees were avidly watching the fight with some even betting on the outcome in surreptitious whispers. 

As she looked back toward the fight, Katara noticed a shadow in the distance that she quickly realized was Lu Ten. He was disheveled, his clothes dusty, and his eyes blood-shot. If she knew anything about him, she suspected that he had come running back for his father.

Katara was not the only one to notice Lu Ten. Genuine surprise lit up Zuko’s features and he looked back and forth from Lu Ten to Iroh. 

Somehow, Iroh had also sensed his son’s arrival, his stance visibly tensed. In the middle of the fight, he turned his head away from Ozai to look at his son who stood behind him, in the front row among the peasants. It was a look that did not take more than half a second but that was all the time that Ozai needed to make a strange motion with his hands, shift his form, and generate a burst of light that Katara had never seen come out of human fingers.

It looked like lightning. 

Iroh settled into his stance as the lightning veered toward him and, slow in his response, all he could do was crouch and take the brunt of the strike straight into his back.