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lizbeeTitle: Your Treasure Spent
Author: LizBee
Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Characters: Aang, Azula, Mai; Aang/Katara, Mai/Zuko, Azula/Ty Lee, Azula/OMC, Mai/OMC
Rating: R, mostly for violence and politics
Warning(s): (highlight to reveal) Major character death; violence; underage arranged marriage; casual sex under the influence of alcohol; psychological abuse; mental illnessWord Count: 29,500
Summary:
Aang won his battle … but Zuko and Katara lost theirs.
With Azula controlling the Fire Nation, it seems like the war will never end. Aang and his friends return to Ba Sing Se to recover and mourn, while Mai escapes Azula and carries Zuko's dying message to Iroh.
For almost a year, the world holds its breath. The Fire Nation's resources are spent, and Azula, struggling with her own demons, realises that her father will never truly relinquish his power. In Ba Sing Se, Mai tries to come to terms with being alive when everyone she has ever cared about has died or abandoned her. Aang, without hope, travels the world, laying the dead to rest. Until the answer to his questions becomes clear: Azula has to die.
Notes: This was not an easy fic to write, not least because it turned out that the 5000 words of set-up I'd envisioned turned out to be the entire (nearly) 30,000 words of story. My eternal thanks go to my betas: Branwyn, for her work on the early drafts and plotting; CiderCupcakes, for her plot and character work; Weaver for the commentary and commas.
I'll be uploading this to AO3 etc in the next few days, but if in the meantime anyone wants to read it in one handy block, an ePub can be downloaded here
Art bybiichan
Now, when your weapons are dulled, your ardor damped, your strength exhausted and your treasure spent, other chieftains will spring up to take advantage of your extremity. Then no man, however wise, will be able to avert the consequences that must ensue.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
When the Moon Spirit heard what happened, she unleashed a tide of pain that shook the world.
"Dead!" she howled, and her rage and grief echoed through the realm of the spirits. "How? Why?"
"Mortals are always killing each other," said Wan Shi Tong. "In a thousand years, no one will remember her name, or why she died."
"I will remember," said the Moon Spirit.
In the Oasis of the North Pole, a freak tide caused the pool to overflow.
"Humans are prey," said Koh the Face Stealer. "Look at the way they treat their own kind."
"I was human," said the Moon Spirit, "before."
Koh the Face Stealer said nothing. His monkey's face smiled.
The Sun Spirit appeared before the Moon in his incarnation as fire. He was beautiful and alien, a brother to the Moon, but distant.
My prince will die, he said.
The spirits were countless in number, and only a tiny fraction knew of or cared about the doings of mortals. It was a long time since the Sun Spirit had spoken of the human realm at all. His name was long-forgotten, even by the people he claimed as his own.
"I'm sorry," said the Moon.
Behind the Sun came the Avatar, wearing the face of his previous incarnation. He bowed to the spirits.
"My great-granddaughter still lives," he said.
For a moment, the Sun Spirit burned blue.
"She should have been yours," Roku told him.
"Too late now," said Koh the Face Stealer.
"But she's alive," said Roku, "and living people can still change."
She is lost to us, said the Sun. The damage is too great.
The Avatar's dragon wrapped itself around the Sun Spirit, who welcomed it as a child.
"It will take time," said the Avatar, "that's all."
Appa came back without them.
He found us on the edge of the Earth Kingdom, where the army had set up a camp to hold the Fire Lord and other prisoners of war. He appeared on the horizon a few hours after the end of my battle with Ozai.
"No," I said.
"What is it?" Toph asked.
"Appa," whispered Sokka.
Appa landed at my feet, grunting with pain. His fur was scorched, burnt to the skin in places, and he nuzzled against me with relief.
"I'm sorry, buddy," I said.
The man in his saddle was a stranger. A Fire Sage. He was dying.
"Don't move," I told him, climbing into the saddle. "We'll get help. Suki, go find a--"
"No," said the Sage. He took my arm. "My time is over. I'm ready."
"What happened?" I looked at his burns. "Who did this to you?"
Sokka hobbled over with water. The sage drank and said, "The princess. Fire Lord Azula." He drank more water. "Her brother fought her in an Agni Kai."
I didn't need to be told.
"He lost," I said.
"And my sister?" Sokka asked, leaning on his crutch.
"The girl. The Water Tribe girl. She didn't see the lightning."
Sokka sat back, his face bleak.
"I'm sorry," I told the sage, "I don't know how to heal you." I should have learnt. And I tried, desperately, mimicking the movements I'd seen Katara make a hundred times, but it was only water I was bending. I couldn't feel his chi.
"She might still be alive," said Sokka, as Suki returned with a doctor. "And Zuko. They're too valuable to kill, Azula knows that. They'll just be sent to prison, like Suki."
"No," I said. My head was still ringing from everything that had happened in the last day, the lion turtle, the fight, the feel of Ozai's soul in my hands. But I knew this, just like I knew how to bend air: Katara and Zuko were gone.
"Azula will probably send Katara to the Boiling Rock," Suki was saying. "We can take a war balloon--"
She broke off as Sokka lost his grip on his crutch, and, unbalanced by his broken leg, put his weight on her. He bit his lip, drawing blood, and buried his face in her shoulder.
"I can still fight," said Toph, but she looked exhausted, not much better than Sokka. She helped Suki lower him to the ground.
"I'm sorry," said the doctor, cradling the sage in his arms. "His burns..."
"You did your best," I said. I helped the doctor take the Fire Sage's body away. They cremated the dead in the Fire Nation. We put him with the rest of the Fire Nation casualties, wrapped in a blanket. I hoped one of the prisoners of war would be able to tell us his name.
My steps were heavy as I went back to find the others. Appa tentatively licked me. Momo tweaked my hair. Toph took my hand.
"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't know if I was apologising to Sokka, or Appa, or Katara and Zuko. I didn't know anything. I hardly felt anything at all, but there was no enlightenment, no emancipation, just an emptiness that I couldn't name.
I got smaller in the dark.
For the first few hours after we were arrested, Ty Lee and I shared a cell. Shackled, scared, hardly able to look at each other, but at least we were together.
Separating us was Azula's idea. Even if the deputy warden hadn't taken the time to tell us, we would have recognised Azula's work. No one knew her better than us, after all. Except maybe Zuko. Who'd have thought he'd be the first of us to escape?
She had ordered that we were to be imprisoned separately. Ty Lee, who loved people, was sent into the general prison population. I, who hated crowds and enjoyed my own company, was sent into the very lowest, darkest cells. Solitary confinement.
The deputy warden laughed as the guards took us away.
(I wondered: what happened to my uncle? No one would tell me then, and no one spoke to me now. He could be dead for all I knew.)
After the first few days, I lost track of time. The thick stone walls muffled all light and sound. Meals seemed to come at irregular times, dozens of breakfasts followed by something more substantial. If I stretched out my arms, I could touch both walls of my cell. I had a bed and a bucket, and I could take two steps before I ran out of space.
My own little kingdom.
I tried not to think about anything, but in the end, there was nothing to do but think. I thought about my family, what my parents must be thinking. About the sort of man Tom Tom would grow up to be, and if anyone would ever tell him he had a sister who was a traitor.
I thought about Ty Lee. I tried not to picture all the things she might be going through, because there was nothing I could do to help. Anyway, as she always told me, things were never as bad as I thought.
I tried not to think about Zuko, but there were times, maybe whole days, when it felt like I couldn't do anything else. If he had escaped -- unlikely -- and if he and the Avatar somehow managed to win the war -- even less likely -- I might one day be free. I wouldn't be able to marry, not after what I had done, but maybe I'd be allowed to go and live on my family's country estates. I could sit in the sun -- I had never appreciated the sun before, not properly -- and swim in the lake, and perhaps sometimes the Fire Lord could visit me, privately, when his duties permitted.
I thought that I could stand to be a concubine, if there was sunlight, and Zuko was alive.
My mother would no doubt prefer I stayed in my cell. The thought made me laugh, alone in the darkness. I thought, I sound like a madwoman, and laughed again.
Time passed. My hair got longer, but how fast did hair grow? My body's cycles were unreliable. It was always cold in my cell, and I seemed to sleep a lot. I dreamed of sunlight, and Zuko, our semi-legitimate children growing up and living lives of honourable service to his legal heirs.
They were nice dreams.
I was sleeping when they came for me. At first I thought it was another meal, and I sat up in my little bed, blinking as soldiers with torches stood in the doorway. The light made my eyes water. Two guards hauled me out of bed. They weren't gentle, but they didn't hurt me. One had painted her nails dark red. I had almost forgotten what colour looked like.
They led me towards the surface. To the execution grounds? I had expected Azula to linger over our punishment. But I'd misjudged her before.
We passed the execution grounds. My knees buckled. I was weak from inadequate food and exercise, that was all. It wasn't relief. Only weakness.
The guards all but carried me to the gondola. No one spoke. In silence, we journeyed across the boiling lake.
There was an airship waiting for us, not the ornate craft that Azula used, but a utilitarian troop carrier. I was escorted aboard and into a new cell. I didn't mind. I sat on the cot and rested my cheek against the metal walls, and marvelled at the way the steel reflected the light.
Eventually they brought me food. Bland prison mash, but a bland prison mash I had never tasted before. It was lovely. After I ate, I slept, and I didn't wake until the balloon landed. The guards accompanied me down the ramp. On the ground, a squadron of Imperial firebenders waited.
"The prisoner is yours," the most senior guard said, bowing. The leader of the Imperial firebenders offered a shallow bow in reply. He didn't deign to speak. He didn't even remove his helmet. The symbolic third eye shimmered in the light.
They led me through the city in silence.
It was sunset, and the sky was orange. The sun sat, swollen and grotesque, over the horizon. The air smelled of smoke. There were scorch marks on many of the buildings, but as we grew closer to the palace, intact buildings gave way to burned wrecks. I caught a glimpse of my family's home, nothing more than blackened stone walls.
It was the smoke and dust that made my eyes water. I never cried.
The air was clearer inside the palace, and the guards even stopped to give me some water. I drained the cup twice, but there was no point in putting it off forever. When the cup was empty a second time, I said, "All right. Take me to see her."
It was the first time I'd spoken in -- well, since I had been arrested. Turned traitor. I was almost amazed at how normal my voice sounded.
The corridors seemed emptier than I remembered. I had practically grown up in the palace, getting in the way of servants and guards, ministers and lords. Now, the only people we passed were a trio of Dai Li agents.
"Thought they'd been banished," one of the guards muttered.
"Where would they go?" said another.
"Quiet," snapped the leader.
The doors to the throne room were closed. Before them waited another squad of Imperial firebenders. And with them, Ty Lee.
Her hair had been cropped short and there were shadows under her eyes, but she straightened when she saw me, and her smile lit up her whole face. If not for the shackles binding her hands and feet, and the guards surrounding her, I thought she might have hugged me.
There was no time for a joyous reunion, though, because the doors opened and we were led into the throne room.
The last time I had been in here, I'd just returned from Ba Sing Se to hear that my father had lost Omashu, and Zuko had turned traitor, and that the Fire Lord had expected me to account for it. Not because he thought I could give him answers, I had realised (pressing my face into the stone floor and praying that I'd say the right thing), but because I made a convenient target for his anger.
Maybe that was the moment I realised I didn't care anymore. I had always maintained a show of indifference, but deep down, I was as loyal as Ty Lee. Until the moment Azula's father made me beg for my life, punishing me for the twin crimes of being born to idiots and loving his son.
The throne room hadn't changed much since that day, except that there was a blue tinge to the flames that ringed the Fire Lord's dais, and it was Azula looking down at us. The guards pushed us to our knees, then left us, retreating to the shadows.
I couldn't see Azula's face. The flames between us twisted and danced, distorting her. All I could see clearly were the sharp curves of the Fire Lord's ceremonial hairpiece. Only the height and slimness of her figure identified her as Azula. Otherwise, it could have been the Sun Spirit himself up there.
"Traitors," she said, her voice rising over the crackle of the flames, "I have defeated my brother in an Agni Kai."
I kept my gaze steady. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of letting her see a reaction.
"My father has been defeated and captured by the Avatar," she went on, "but I am his loyal daughter, and his saviour."
There was a tremble in her voice. Ty Lee heard it, too; I felt her stiffen. This was new, and where Azula was concerned, innovation never meant anything good.
She went on speaking, but I was listening to the sound of her voice, not her words. I knew Azula's voice as well as I knew my own mother's, and this -- she hesitated where she should have charged, her enunciation too studied, her phrases artificial. I had seen her persuade the Dai Li to betray the Earth Kingdom, but this new Azula couldn't have sold ice to the Water Tribe.
She was almost pitiful.
Almost.
"At dawn," she was saying, "as a new era begins for the Fire Nation, we shall cleanse ourselves of treachery and put an end to the fear of betrayal that haunts us..."
She trailed off.
"Azula," said Ty Lee, half standing up, "are you all right?"
Azula gave an incoherent cry and threw a great tongue of fire at her. I was still on my knees, but I shifted my weight and threw myself against Ty Lee, knocking her out of the way.
"Take them away," Azula screamed at the guards. "Take them to my brother. Let them see what happens to people who defy me."
I thought we would be taken down to tiny cells that lay beneath the palace, where the very worst of the Fire Lord's prisoners were kept in ancient volcanic bunkers. Instead, the soldiers led us through the residential corridors of the palace, past the Fire Lord's rooms, to the chambers once occupied by Princess Ursa. We were almost pushed through the door, as if the guards didn't want to enter themselves. Then the doors were closed behind us, and locked, and we were left alone.
I had been in these chambers before, a long time ago. Princess Ursa's sitting room had been sunlit and pleasant, more comfortable than the grander rooms. Now they were dark and musty, with only a few torches for illumination. The air stank of burnt meat. The curtains were in tatters and the chairs and carpets were scorched. Scrolls and books lay everywhere, some burnt, others merely torn and crushed. A mirror had been shattered. And on the floor in the centre of the room lay Zuko.
He was on his side, breathing heavily. His skin was covered in scorch marks, the source of the meat smell that was turning my stomach. Part of his hair was burnt away.
I dropped to my knees at his side, reaching for him. I hesitated for a moment, worried about his raw, red skin. Then he opened his eyes and saw me. He smiled, his fingers finding mine, curling around my hand.
"I knew you'd come," he said, his voice cracked, his breath wheezing. "Told her she was afraid." He tried to laugh, though it was barely more than a puff of breath. "Guess I won."
"Water," I told Ty Lee.
There was a pitcher and cup on the other side of the room. Azula's keen eye for punishment again. Zuko was too weak to crawl, and she had left him with a heavy silver pitcher set up high on a table. But at least it did contain water. Ty Lee poured, and I helped him drink.
I had to hold the cup, he was shaking so badly. When he couldn't drink anymore, he collapsed into my lap, drawing deep, shuddering breaths.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry." His hands were cold.
"Don't be stupid," I told him.
"No," he said, "I'm really sorry."
Haltingly, pausing every few words for more water, he told us about the Agni Kai.
"Azula broke the rules," he said. "Of course she broke the rules." Ty Lee gave him more water. "I wasn't fast enough. Lightning. Katara. Gone. Don't know. How long it's been. Since the Comet."
I looked blankly at Ty Lee.
"A week."
He blinked, and a tear dropped from his good eye. I watched it drip over his ear.
"My fault," he said. "Should have remembered. Azula always cheats." He shifted, awkwardly. I wished that I knew something about medicine. He was so cold. A firebender shouldn't be that cold. "She forgave me," he said.
Ty Lee frowned. "Azula?"
"Katara. She should have stayed angry. Then she wouldn't have come." He clutched at my arm. "You have to tell them," he said. "That I'm sorry. My fault."
I wanted to speak, but I had no words at all. I looked at Ty Lee, and she said, "No one blames you, Zuko. She knew what Azula could do, and she made her choice. Right?"
He sighed, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body.
We sat in silence for a long time, the three of us. Ty Lee put her head on my shoulder, her hand on Zuko's arm.
"My mother's alive," he said. "He told me. My father. Last time I saw him."
And you believed him? I wanted to say, but I didn't, because there was a smile on his lips. In a few hours, it wouldn't matter what he believed.
"I would have liked to find her," he said. "I think. Maybe she'd be proud."
Anyone who wasn't proud to have Zuko for a son -- I couldn't finish that thought. Not here. Not now.
"Listen," he said, shifting his weight. He patted the floor at his side, searching for something. "You need to tell my uncle. Tell Uncle he'll have to find someone else. And that I'm sorry." He pressed something small, hard and cold into my hand.
It was a pai sho tile, the kind from a set that was carved by hand for wealthy noblewomen, then handed down to their daughters and granddaughters. This was one of the old flower tiles, the kind that had been popular when my great-great grandmother was a girl. Useless, but exquisite, carved from jade and ivory. I showed it to Ty Lee, who shook her head, echoing my confusion.
"Zuko," I said, "we don't understand."
"It was my mother's," he said. "They'll get you out of here. They promised."
"Who promised, Zuko?"
"Tell Uncle," he repeated, and fell silent.
After a while, he began to shiver. Ty Lee found a blanket and wrapped it around him, but his hands were like ice, and nothing we did could warm him.
I missed the moment when he stopped breathing. Ty Lee buried her face in my shoulder, shaking with silent sobs, and I felt nothing, nothing at all. I put my arms around Ty Lee and rocked her until she stopped crying.
Eventually, I realised we were not alone.
It was few hours before dawn, still too dark to see their faces, but I recognised the silhouettes of Lo and Li.
"Come with us," Li said.
"If you want to live," said Lo.
Ty Lee looked up, wiping her face.
"You were banished," she said.
"The Fire Lord knows she needs us," said Li.
"We look after her," said Lo.
"But not Zuko," I said. My legs had gone to sleep, sitting so still with his body in my arms. I moved carefully, as if he were asleep, and covered his face with the blanket.
"We couldn't help Prince Zuko," said Li.
"But you can save us?" Ty Lee asked.
"Come with us."
It wasn't like we had anything left to lose.
The royal palace was riddled with passages. Some were used by servants or guards. Many were forgotten. We used to play hide and seek in them when we were kids, until Zuko got lost for three hours and Princess Ursa forbade the games. This passage ran from the princess's rooms to the chambers traditionally occupied by the second in line for the throne. They had sat empty since Ozai's ascension, but the faintest trace of his scent lingered in the still air. My skin crawled.
"What's going to happen to us?" I asked.
"A troop carrier leaves for Ba Sing Se in three hours," said Li, leading us into another passage.
"The Grand Lotus will be there," Lo added.
Princess Ursa's pai sho tile was still warm in my hand. I snuck a look at it. The white lotus tile. Zuko...?
He beyond the reach of my questions now. The answers lay in Ba Sing Se.
This passage was wide and brightly lit, lined with shelves and closets, and doors leading to larger storage areas. The back of my neck began to prickle. Dawn was only an hour away. There should have been servants down here. We were in the middle of the residential wing of the palace. We should not have been alone.
"What," I began, but the twins, speaking as one, cut me off.
"Quiet."
Ty Lee squeezed my hand.
We were heading west. Towards the army base. The war balloons. Freedom? I didn't think the Earth Kingdom would welcome us, so soon after we had helped Azula take Ba Sing Se. But the very worst punishment they could offer us was still better than Azula.
We turned a corner. Almost there. Then Ty Lee made a choking noise, moving into a fighting stance.
It took me a moment to see it: the figure of a man, leaning against the wall in the shadows. A soldier.
"He's dead," I said.
"It was necessary," said Li, or Lo, I didn't know. Or care. He was pinned to the wall by five throwing knives, and his throat had been slit.
The knives were the creation of the master craftswoman, Jin Re Sun. They were, if not my own actual knives, then identical in style and design.
Lo and Li watched me as I studied the blades, their faces unreadable.
Then they walked on, and after a moment, Ty Lee and I followed.
I had never killed. As far as I knew, I had never even caused a serious injury, although that had more to do with the skill of my opponents than any benevolence on my part. I didn't think I'd have a problem with death, but this had been butchery, and wasteful.
I squeezed my lotus tile and watched Li and Lo, and wished I had my knives.
The passage turned into a tunnel that ended in rough steps leading to a door that opened onto a little alley that ran between two army barracks.
"The second officer on the Glory of the Comet will help you," said Li.
"If you're caught," said Lo, "we will kill you before you can betray us."
They vanished in a whisper of fabric, leaving us alone. The sun was rising. I took a deep breath, savouring the moment.
"Mai," said Ty Lee, "I can't go with you."
I opened my eyes.
"What?"
"The prisoners of war," she said, "I owe them my life. Now I have a chance to help them escape."
"Or to help them die," I snapped.
Ty Lee shook her head. "I have to try." She threw her arms around me. "You go to Ba Sing Se and tell General Iroh what happened. We'll follow." She gave me a bright, wide smile, just as she did the day before she ran away from us to join the circus. "Look for us. We'll follow you."
She vanished back into the tunnel, and I was alone.
The second officer on the war balloon was an older man named Jee. He provided me with papers and a uniform that proclaimed me an infantry private, non-bender. I had a bunk in a cabin with five other soldiers, standard-issue weapons and three meals a day.
The other women in my cabin hadn't been paid for two months. Three were still injured from the collision of two war balloons during Ozai's attempted razing of the Earth Kingdom. Our weapons were cheaply made and easily broken. And our rations ranged from slightly stale to almost rotten.
The military machine that had conquered the world was close to breaking. I wondered if Azula knew or cared.
It was a three-day journey to Ba Sing Se. I kept to myself, afraid that my ignorance and inexperience would give me away. The other soldiers assumed I was a new recruit, and teased me about joining too late for the fun part. I pretended to smile, and waited for them to get bored.
I didn't sleep much. I was afraid of letting my guard down, of giving myself away. I was afraid of dreaming.
Zuko was dead. I was alive.
I tried not to think about it.
To keep busy, I started gathering weapons. The engineering section was full of soldiers honing their tools. The standard military dagger was next to useless for throwing until I cut off the hilt and reshaped the blade. The spear head got the same treatment. After that, I began sharpening all the little metal objects that came into my hands: coins, a large earring, some nails, a pair of metal chopsticks. I had no material to fashion holsters or launchers, but there were lots of pockets beneath my armour. No one paid attention to me. Even the rawest recruits knew our assigned weapons were inadequate.
On the morning of the third day, I rose from a restless half-sleep and waited for the next move. After breakfast, Lieutenant Jee pulled me aside.
"You were a friend of the prince?" he asked.
"Something like that," I said.
"Tell General Iroh that a lot of people would stand with him. If he needed us."
I nodded.
"We'll be landing in a few hours. Just outside the inner wall."
"That's..."
"It's a diversion," he said. "The real assault will be in the city itself. The Fire Lord has sent an elite squad to rescue her father from the Earth Kingdom prison."
"And the infantry?"
"We're buying the Phoenix King's freedom with our lives." He looked grim. "I survived Zhao's attack on the Northern Water Tribe. I didn't think I'd end up dying here."
They were waiting for us when we landed. Ba Sing Se was defended by a motley army of Earth Kingdom soldiers and civilians, even a few Dai Li agents. They should have crumbled before the Fire Nation soldiers, but we were too tired and too poorly equipped to do more than struggle against the inevitable.
I kept my helmet down, trying to avoid trouble, looking for someone who might not kill me on sight. The ground was shaking as the earthbenders did their work. I had to fight to keep my balance. Then, in the chaos, I saw a familiar flash of green. The Kyoshi Warrior that Zuko and his Water Tribe friend had freed from the Boiling Rock.
Suki. That was her name. I had helped capture her. I hoped she remembered that I'd helped free her as well.
She looked tired, but she was fighting two men at once, wielding her fans with deadly grace. But she couldn't see the third man preparing to join the fight.
I threw one of my projectiles at the newcomer, and was rewarded with a scream as my improvised dart pierced his hand. At the same time, I shouted, "Suki!"
She took advantage of her opponents' distraction to finish them -- disabled, I noted, not dead -- then turned to me. I raised my helmet and threw it away.
"Mai?" she said, "...was that a chopstick?"
"This is just a diversion," I told her. "The special forces have been sent to rescue Ozai."
Her jaw set. For a second I thought she didn't believe me, then she nodded.
"Come on," she said. "Colonel Shi! We need to get reinforcements to the palace prison now!"
"What--"
"Hurry!"
She was running back towards the city, repeating my message to the Earth Kingdom colonel, to a Dai Li captain and to the little blind earthbender who had travelled with the Avatar. Toph scowled and, shifting her weight, opened a passage for us right through the inner wall. On the other side, Colonel Shi peeled away to send a signal, but Suki kept running.
"I've got a better idea," said the earthbender girl. She moved the ground itself beneath us, so that all we had to do was hang on and watch the city pass in a blur.
We were still too late. When we arrived at the prison, the walls were scorched. Four guards lay on the ground, arrows protruding from their bodies.
"Yu Yan arrows," I said.
"At this range, they didn't stand a chance." A general approached. I recognised him: he had been one of the Earth King's advisers, and had dealt with Azula in her Kyoshi Warrior disguise. How was his name. General How. He gave me a long look, as if he was trying to place my face. Or maybe he was just wondering why a Fire Nation soldier had delivered this warning.
Behind him, limping and using a crutch, was Sokka. The dead girl's brother. He looked gaunt, haunted. He recognised me right away, eyes widening in surprise as he took in my armour, the makeshift weapons still in my hands, my presence in the company of his friends.
"Where's the Avatar?" General How asked him.
"Another balloon landed at the east gate. He went to help take care of it."
The general made a noise like a grunt of disappointment or disapproval.
"He can't be everywhere at once," Sokka snapped.
The way to the cells was littered with bodies, scorched and slashed, and all dead. I was tired of seeing dead people. I was tired. Ozai was gone, on his way back to Azula.
"What can he do without his bending?" General How wondered.
Sokka, Suki and I exchanged a brief, wry glance. "Plenty," Sokka said.
"And how can we trust her?" How pointed at me. "She's Azula's ally. Last year, she helped the princess take the city."
"I was given this." I pulled the white lotus tile from my inner pocket, but How looked blank. Sokka, behind him, nodded, but said nothing.
The Earth Kingdom soldiers were surprisingly gentle as they led me away. I was stripped, my weapons confiscated, but they gave me clean clothes and even a meal of noodles and fresh vegetables before taking me to my new cell. This one had a high window that admitted a little light. The mattress was hard, but there was a warm blanket. It was a nice cell. I could see myself being very happy here. They had let me keep my pai sho tile, and I clutched it so hard my knuckles turned white. I curled up with my knees against my chest and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
Maybe I was going mad.
I should have been happy. I had everything I wanted. Why wasn't I happy?
Something was wrong. With me, with the Fire Nation. The treasuries were empty, the troops were overstretched. It was as if, in declaring himself Phoenix King, Father had decided to gut the Fire Nation, leaving us nothing more than another conquered subject-nation.
With me as another conquered subject-queen.
Did he really think so little of me? This thought had been haunting me since Father left. I had even sunk so low as to ask Zuko.
He had turned to look at me -- it was only two days after the Comet, and he was still strong enough to stand, if he made an effort -- and said, "Maybe it's worse, being his favourite. You're just a weapon to him, Azula. Maybe if you can see that--"
Whatever wisdom he was about to impart -- cobbled together, no doubt, from things Uncle had said in his lessons on treachery -- were lost in his scream as I burned him again.
"Fire Lord."
I raised my eyes from the ledger. The servant bowed lower, as if hiding her face. Hiding from me.
"It's time, Fire Lord."
"Have the ministers summoned," I told her. "I'll see them next."
I went to watch them burn my brother's body.
I wore no mourning clothes, and the Sages -- the only other people in attendance -- were not foolish enough to don the white themselves. It was a short ceremony, befitting a servant rather than a prince. Just his name, and the names of his parents and ancestors. No titles. No achievements. His name alone would be added to the ancestor shrine within the Sages' temple. He would be quickly forgotten.
Goodbye, Zuzu.
"You think you're beyond forgiveness," said my mother. "You always did underestimate people."
I ignored her. We were alone at the pavilion, the Sages, Zuko and me. My mother was dead. Father had told me she was dead. Father had never lied to me.
I watched until Zuko was nothing but ash.
The ministers were assembled in the throne room. Some of the ministers. I had banished them, I recalled, in those hours when it had seemed as if reality itself had turned against me. I was much better now. Much. Better.
Some of the ministers had stayed, despite my orders, along with the Dai Li and Li and Lo. People who would do what they thought was good for me, not what I asked of them. Or maybe they thought they were serving a higher purpose.
On my throne, behind the wall of flames that rose and fell at my control, I realised they were wrong. Serving me was the highest purpose they could ever know. And if they forgot that -- if they ever forgot--
"Tell me again," I said, "how the traitors escaped."
"The body of a soldier was found in the tunnels beneath the palace," said the Minister for Interior Security. "The evidence would suggest they were killed by the Lady Mai."
"Did I not order that all the exits from those chambers were to be sealed?" I kept my voice pleasant. "I'm sure I was very clear, Minister Lau."
"Fire Lord," he said, bowing lower, "there must have been an oversight. I beg forgiveness."
"The traitors went on to break key prisoners of war out of the Imperial Prison," I said. "I hope I'm not expected to forgive that, too."
"That," said Minister Lau awkwardly, "was a military undertaking."
Meaning that they had stolen military ordinance and escaped in an army war balloon. Excuses. "Have you found the bodies?" I asked.
"No, Fire Lord. My agents saw Lady Ty Lee fall, but they couldn't find her body. They searched the Lower Quarter most thoroughly, Fire Lord."
The Minister for the Capital scowled. No doubt his underlings were being plagued with complaints about heavy handed domestic security forces ransacking their shops and houses. But he said nothing.
"And Mai?" I asked.
"Nothing, Fire Lord. It's possible she escaped with the rest of the prisoners."
The wall of flames rose with my anger. For a moment, my pathetic ministers were concealed from view. There was a flicker of pink on the edge of my vision, an echo of Ty Lee's laughter. I ignored them.
"General Shin," I said, "at least tell me you made an attempt to chase the escapees."
"An attempt, Fire Lord," he said. "Our resources are stretched rather thin at present."
Was this a criticism of my plan to rescue Father? He wouldn't dare. I would happily lose a few barbarian prisoners if it meant releasing my father from the indignity of an Earth Kingdom prison. Surely they could all see that.
He was still talking -- about paying the armed forces, about replacing people and equipment lost in in the attack on the Earth Kingdom. Many of the survivors from Father's forces were in prison camps on the other side of the ocean, and they were the lucky ones.
"Divert troops from the western colonies," I told General Shin.
He wanted to raise the taxes on the colonies as well, and recruit new soldiers from the colonial youth. The Minister for Finance objected that this would leave the colonies unprotected and without workers to generate taxable income. Revolt, he hinted, would surely not be far behind. He always had been an alarmist.
I let the minister have his taxes, but extra troops would have to come from the Domestic Forces. Minister Lau looked unhappy, but said nothing.
Alone again at last, I retreated to the enormous office that lay behind the throne room. This had been Father's domain, and I had spent many hours in here, ostensibly doing school work, but actually watching him conduct the business of ruling the Fire Nation.
I was beginning to realise he had made it look easy.
I went back to the ledgers. The numbers produced the same result every time: bankruptcy. The colonial taxes would help, but they would be poured straight into the military, which seemed, from my new perspective, to consume money in exchange for more land that needed defending.
I wanted to set fire to all of it and start again from scratch. But Father had already tried that, and failed. I went over the numbers again.
Three days after my brother's funeral, I received a message that my father had been rescued and was on his way home. We had lost two troop carriers and infantry units, which -- as General Shin pointed out -- couldn't well be spared, but the sacrifice would be worth it.
On the day of Father's return, I dressed with extra care, having my hair pinned away from my forehead to conceal the burned and ragged edges. I put on my make-up with my own hands.
The reflection in the mirror looked older, perfectly in control. A Fire Lord my father could serve with honour and respect. When he made his bow to me, it would be as a warrior wounded in battle to his rightful leader, not as a father to his daughter. He left as the Phoenix King and would return as nothing, but surely he knew I'd be magnanimous.
With him as my advisor, I could rebuild the Fire Nation, recover our former glory and more.
I waited for him in the throne room.
I had feared that he would be somehow diminished by his experiences, that the theft of his bending would leave him physically marred. But as he approached, my father looked as he ever did, like the Sun Spirit himself come to life. He was dressed in military armour without rank insignia, and he looked as proud and powerful as any of the guards who accompanied him.
He strode to the centre of the throne room, leaving the guards behind. He stood before me, looking at me through the flames.
"My daughter," he said.
He did not bow.
In the end I only spent a day in my new cell. I was roused from my sleep by a guard and taken to bathe and dress. It was the first time I had seen a proper mirror -- or a bath -- in weeks. I scrubbed myself raw, revelling in the hot water. When I emerged, I found clean clothes waiting, in shades of green so dark as to be black. There was even embroidery on the sleeves and collars, not ornate, but of a high enough quality that no one would look at me twice if they passed me in the Upper Ring.
My new hairpins, I noted, were of good quality, enamelled with flower patterns, and above all, blunt. The wide, heavy sleeves of my outer gown contained pockets. I slipped my lotus tile into one, and wondered how many weapons I could conceal. If I was ever allowed to go armed again.
When I was ready, I took a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom.
Three men waited for me, looking incongruous in what was plainly an Earth Kingdom noble-woman's chambers. One had a shock of white hair and a scarred face. Beside him stood a slightly younger man, with dark skin, a neat beard and a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
Beside him stood the King of Omashu.
I made a very deep bow and greeted him formally as the daughter of a provincial governor to an honoured subject-monarch.
He giggled.
His smile grew wider when I greeted Admiral Jeong Jeong. He had once been -- not a friend of my father's, but a valuable political ally, until he deserted. It had taken a moment to recognise him with his hair worn loose like a barbarian.
The third man was Piandao, the swordsmaster, whom I knew by reputation. I had once hoped to study beneath him, before his dissident politics became common knowledge.
Feeling stupid, I said to Bumi, "Do I have the honour of addressing the Grand Lotus?"
King Bumi laughed again, Piandao grinned, and even Jeong Jeong looked amused.
"No," Piandao told me. "We were sent to confirm your identity. Among other things."
I held my hands out at my sides, and very gently, he checked my sleeves.
"Nothing?" said Bumi.
"The bathroom was almost bare," I told him, "and I didn't have time to sharpen the hairpins."
His smile was almost approving.
They led me through a labyrinth of corridors, to a bright, sunny room with a view that overlooked the whole city. One table held a tea pot and cups, and some late summer fruit. The other held a pai sho board.
In front of the window, his back to the door, stood General Iroh.
My throat closed up. I wasn't ready for this.
"The Lady Mai," said Jeong Jeong. The three men left, Piandao closing the door behind them, and I was alone with Zuko's uncle.
The last time I had seen General Iroh, he was being led from Azula's ship in chains. I hadn't want to look at him. I had been angry, in fact, that this was being done so openly, because I felt the way Zuko tensed when his uncle appeared, and I wanted Zuko to be happy. But we had all stopped and watched the General being taken away: a sad, defeated man who had lost everything and gained nothing.
Looking at him now -- neatly dressed, free, respected -- I thought he might look back at the chained prisoner he had been, and envy that man.
He looked old. Pale and puffy, his eyes dull and a little bloodshot. But he managed something like a smile as he turned.
He gestured at the pai sho board. "Do you play?"
"Not well."
Growing up, I had been the best player in our circle. Ty Lee was too flighty, Zuko was erratic, and Azula never saw the point of any game that didn't involve setting things on fire. But it had been a long time since I played, let alone against a master.
"Perhaps you will honour me with a game," he said, and helped me into my seat.
The first game, I lost.
I lost the second game too, but not as badly. The third game I almost won, until Iroh brought his white lotus tile into play.
"You did well," he said when my final defence collapsed. "Not many people appreciate the red chrysanthemum gambit."
"My grandmother taught me to play."
"She would be proud." The general made tea and offered me fruit. When I had eaten, and he had poured my second cup, he said, "Tell me about my nephew."
This was what I had been dreading.
"He died in my arms," I said. "Three days ago. No, four. Some time after midnight." I looked at my hands, clutching my cup, and tried to push my emotions to one side, as if I was speaking about something else. As if I was a stranger, narrating my life.
This was something else my grandmother had taught me.
"He was badly burned, but I think there must have been internal injuries as well. I didn't know. We couldn't do anything but give him water and keep him warm, and sit with him. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry. I don't know what for."
The general shook his head.
"Nothing," he said. "He had nothing to be ashamed of."
"He was very upset about the Water Tribe girl."
"Katara. Yes. Many people grieve for Katara."
"And he said you'd have to find someone else." I looked up at him, wondering what the message meant, but his gaze was distant, and there were tears in my eyes. I looked down again, trying to swallow my feelings.
"It isn't fair," I said. "He should have had a long, happy and boring life." For a second, I wanted to throw the tea cup across the room, just for the satisfaction of breaking something delicate.
Instead, I put it down, and put my hands in my lap. I could feel Iroh watching me now, and I forced my jaw to relax.
"You must have loved him very much," he said.
Like a child, I shrugged. "I trusted him."
He didn't press me.
"We've persuaded the Council of Five to give you your freedom," he said.
I should have been happy. I was happy. But the world outside that window seemed very large.
"Where will I go?" I asked.
Diffidently, the general said, "I have an apartment in the Upper Ring, with a spare room." Zuko's room, I thought. "My tea shop is back in business. I could use a new assistant."
I raised my eyebrows, both at the mental image of the Dragon of the West serving tea to Ba Sing Se's upper classes, and at the prospect of doing so myself.
He added, "I imagine your grandmother also taught you the tea ceremonies."
Along with calligraphy, music and the art of the shuriken. I nodded.
"Then you'll do well."
What else was there?
So my life fell into a sort of routine: I would sleep late into the mornings, then wander around the city for a couple of hours, before putting on an apron and serving tea from the afternoon to the evening. It was boring, but I found I liked that. Being bored meant that I wasn't afraid for my life, and there were moments, when I was busy, when I could forget about Zuko and everything else, and just exist. No one noticed serving girls. In my apron, I became invisible.
In the evenings, after the Jasmine Dragon closed, people would gather. I thought of them as Iroh's friends, though it was the Avatar around whom they all revolved. Even me, I suppose, without thinking about it. They came together to exchange news and make plans. To eat and drink in the company of friends. To grieve.
The Avatar stayed on the edge of these gatherings, resisting all attempts at drawing him into conversation. One evening, I saw him slipping outside. On impulse, I poured two fresh cups of tea and followed him.
"It's jasmine," I said, setting a cup down beside him.
"Thanks."
I sat down myself, a little way away, so he wouldn't feel like I was forcing him to be social. His bison, resting on the warm flagstones in front of me, rumbled softly. The lemur crawled onto my shoulder, making a nest in my hair and chittering. I'd never spent much time around animals, but I patted him cautiously.
"This is good," the Avatar said, sipping his tea.
"Iroh's a good teacher."
"That's what Zuko used to say." He broke off, giving me a sidelong glance to make sure I wasn't about to burst into tears. "He made tea for us most evenings."
I could imagine. When he spent the night at my house, that was the sort of thing he enjoyed. "Playing at families."
"Yeah." The Avatar's voice cracked, and he looked like he was about to start crying. "Except for the chores. He hated doing that stuff. We said, who doesn't? But that just made him complain more."
"Until I came here, I'd never done a chore in my life," I said.
"It must be tough for you," said the Avatar, and he didn't sound like he was talking about domestic chores. "It's like you've inherited his place."
"I'm not a firebender."
"That's not what I meant. Katara--"
He stopped, and now there were tears in his eyes. His fists clenched. I wanted to look away. I didn't.
I moved closer to him.
"The secret to not letting them see your feelings," I whispered, "is to relax. Just breathe and let it pass, like water over a stone."
My grandmother's advice worked. He breathed until he became calmer. His jaw relaxed. When I looked at him again, in the greenish light of the Earth Kingdom torches, his face was a mask.
"Water wears away stone," he said.
"It's all I have."
I finished my tea and went inside.
This routine lasted only a couple of weeks. Then the escapees started coming in, the prisoners Ty Lee had rescued. A trio of swamp-dwellers. A shortsighted man missing three fingers on his left hand. An elderly earthbender. Two enormous men who called themselves Pipsqueak and the Boulder. Water Tribe warriors.
They arrived in little groups. All knew Ty Lee. None could tell me if she was alive.
The last to arrive were the Kyoshi Warriors. I served them tea, then lingered.
"Ty Lee," I said. "Do you know--"
"She fell," said one warrior girl.
"No, she jumped," said another.
"Either way," said the first, "she never made it out of the capital. Maybe she thought she could do more good on the ground. I didn't see her land. I didn't see anything after she left." The Kyoshi Warrior looked apologetic beneath her face-paint. She even squeezed my hand. "Ty Lee was a good person," she said.
I couldn't sleep that night. My head was full of memories and grief. I got up to get a drink of water, and froze in the doorway of my room.
In the dim light of the new moon I could see Iroh, sitting lotus-style on a cushion. Around him, burning sticks of incense were arranged in a half-circle. His eyes were open, but he didn't see me.
He was very far away.
I went back into my room and slid the door shut behind me.
I had heard rumours, of course, of General Iroh's journey into the Spirit World after his son's death. The stories had kept Azula amused for months, and she had encouraged us to find the most disrespectful and absurd variations.
It had never once occurred to me that the stories might have been true.
The unfamiliar smell of the incense worked its way into my room. I lay on my sleeping mat and tried not to breathe too deeply.
The next day, he seemed perfectly normal, like a man with nothing on his mind beyond his next meal and a game of pai sho. And Azula had always thought she was the great liar in the family.
I considered asking him about it, but I kept my mouth shut. Part of me was afraid to hear the answer.
With the newcomers, the demand for action rose. Everyone had come in with a different account of Fire Nation weaknesses, which they presented to the Avatar and General Iroh as if to say, Your move.
They didn't move.
"I don't understand it," I said to Toph one morning as we wandered through the Lower Ring, "what are they waiting for?"
"Beats me," she said. "But if I don't do something soon, I might just have to start knocking down walls again."
Toph and the Avatar had gone out one day and brought down all the walls that separated the rings of Ba Sing Se. They had turned up at the Jasmine Dragon covered in dust and unrepentant. It was the first time I had seen Aang smile since I arrived in Ba Sing Se. The municipal earthbenders took a week to rebuild all the walls. General How, Sokka told me, had been furious.
"The longer they wait, the stronger Azula's position will be."
"Hey, I'm not the one sitting around waiting for an invitation."
That night, General How joined us at the Jasmine Dragon. He drank half a cup of oolong tea, then said, "So, Avatar. When do you propose to move against the new Fire Lord?"
Aang said, "I don't know."
"General Iroh," said How, "what is your next move?"
Iroh stroked his beard. "I really need to order more pu'er tea."
"Are you all cowards?"
"We're tired, General How," said Chief Hakoda. I had never heard him speak before. Now he rose to his feet. "The Fire Nation is exhausted and overstretched, but so are we. A lot of us have just escaped from prison. Of the rest, half are children, and battle-weary."
There was a general murmur of agreement.
"We're not an army," pointed out the girl called Smellerbee.
"You could lead armies," said How.
"You got one handy?" called one of the Water Tribe men.
General How said nothing. Earth Kingdom troops were scattered across the continent. But he was a good soldier. He made one more attempt.
"Chief Hakoda," he started.
"No." Hakoda sat down, slowly. "I need to go home and mourn my daughter. After that," he pulled a bone knife from its sheath and laid it on the table, "we'll end this war."
Later, I found the Avatar outside. We had a routine by now, sitting in silence.
"Sokka's going to the South Pole," he said. "And Suki. And Toph, even though she won't be able to see in the snow."
"You?" I asked.
"I can't." His mask cracked. "Katara would be alive if she hadn't gone with me. How can I go back and look her grandmother in the eye? Why would they even want me there?" His voice rose, and there was a gust of wind as he waved his arms.
A lot of thoughts were going through my head, starting with the fact that the South Pole was probably full of ways for girls to die, even without a war. There were footsteps behind me.
"Of course we want you there," said Sokka, putting his hand on Aang's shoulder. "And so would Katara."
When everyone was gone, and we were cleaning up, I said to Iroh, "What are you going to do about Azula?"
He said, "Wait."
Despite the warmth of the early autumn air, I shivered.
Part 2
Author: LizBee
Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Characters: Aang, Azula, Mai; Aang/Katara, Mai/Zuko, Azula/Ty Lee, Azula/OMC, Mai/OMC
Rating: R, mostly for violence and politics
Warning(s): (highlight to reveal) Major character death; violence; underage arranged marriage; casual sex under the influence of alcohol; psychological abuse; mental illnessWord Count: 29,500
Summary:
Aang won his battle … but Zuko and Katara lost theirs.
With Azula controlling the Fire Nation, it seems like the war will never end. Aang and his friends return to Ba Sing Se to recover and mourn, while Mai escapes Azula and carries Zuko's dying message to Iroh.
For almost a year, the world holds its breath. The Fire Nation's resources are spent, and Azula, struggling with her own demons, realises that her father will never truly relinquish his power. In Ba Sing Se, Mai tries to come to terms with being alive when everyone she has ever cared about has died or abandoned her. Aang, without hope, travels the world, laying the dead to rest. Until the answer to his questions becomes clear: Azula has to die.
Notes: This was not an easy fic to write, not least because it turned out that the 5000 words of set-up I'd envisioned turned out to be the entire (nearly) 30,000 words of story. My eternal thanks go to my betas: Branwyn, for her work on the early drafts and plotting; CiderCupcakes, for her plot and character work; Weaver for the commentary and commas.
I'll be uploading this to AO3 etc in the next few days, but if in the meantime anyone wants to read it in one handy block, an ePub can be downloaded here
Art by
biichanYour Treasure Spent
by LizBee
Now, when your weapons are dulled, your ardor damped, your strength exhausted and your treasure spent, other chieftains will spring up to take advantage of your extremity. Then no man, however wise, will be able to avert the consequences that must ensue.
Sun Tzu, The Art of War
The Spirit World
When the Moon Spirit heard what happened, she unleashed a tide of pain that shook the world.
"Dead!" she howled, and her rage and grief echoed through the realm of the spirits. "How? Why?"
"Mortals are always killing each other," said Wan Shi Tong. "In a thousand years, no one will remember her name, or why she died."
"I will remember," said the Moon Spirit.
In the Oasis of the North Pole, a freak tide caused the pool to overflow.
"Humans are prey," said Koh the Face Stealer. "Look at the way they treat their own kind."
"I was human," said the Moon Spirit, "before."
Koh the Face Stealer said nothing. His monkey's face smiled.
The Sun Spirit appeared before the Moon in his incarnation as fire. He was beautiful and alien, a brother to the Moon, but distant.
My prince will die, he said.
The spirits were countless in number, and only a tiny fraction knew of or cared about the doings of mortals. It was a long time since the Sun Spirit had spoken of the human realm at all. His name was long-forgotten, even by the people he claimed as his own.
"I'm sorry," said the Moon.
Behind the Sun came the Avatar, wearing the face of his previous incarnation. He bowed to the spirits.
"My great-granddaughter still lives," he said.
For a moment, the Sun Spirit burned blue.
"She should have been yours," Roku told him.
"Too late now," said Koh the Face Stealer.
"But she's alive," said Roku, "and living people can still change."
She is lost to us, said the Sun. The damage is too great.
The Avatar's dragon wrapped itself around the Sun Spirit, who welcomed it as a child.
"It will take time," said the Avatar, "that's all."
Aang
Appa came back without them.
He found us on the edge of the Earth Kingdom, where the army had set up a camp to hold the Fire Lord and other prisoners of war. He appeared on the horizon a few hours after the end of my battle with Ozai.
"No," I said.
"What is it?" Toph asked.
"Appa," whispered Sokka.
Appa landed at my feet, grunting with pain. His fur was scorched, burnt to the skin in places, and he nuzzled against me with relief.
"I'm sorry, buddy," I said.
The man in his saddle was a stranger. A Fire Sage. He was dying.
"Don't move," I told him, climbing into the saddle. "We'll get help. Suki, go find a--"
"No," said the Sage. He took my arm. "My time is over. I'm ready."
"What happened?" I looked at his burns. "Who did this to you?"
Sokka hobbled over with water. The sage drank and said, "The princess. Fire Lord Azula." He drank more water. "Her brother fought her in an Agni Kai."
I didn't need to be told.
"He lost," I said.
"And my sister?" Sokka asked, leaning on his crutch.
"The girl. The Water Tribe girl. She didn't see the lightning."
Sokka sat back, his face bleak.
"I'm sorry," I told the sage, "I don't know how to heal you." I should have learnt. And I tried, desperately, mimicking the movements I'd seen Katara make a hundred times, but it was only water I was bending. I couldn't feel his chi.
"She might still be alive," said Sokka, as Suki returned with a doctor. "And Zuko. They're too valuable to kill, Azula knows that. They'll just be sent to prison, like Suki."
"No," I said. My head was still ringing from everything that had happened in the last day, the lion turtle, the fight, the feel of Ozai's soul in my hands. But I knew this, just like I knew how to bend air: Katara and Zuko were gone.
"Azula will probably send Katara to the Boiling Rock," Suki was saying. "We can take a war balloon--"
She broke off as Sokka lost his grip on his crutch, and, unbalanced by his broken leg, put his weight on her. He bit his lip, drawing blood, and buried his face in her shoulder.
"I can still fight," said Toph, but she looked exhausted, not much better than Sokka. She helped Suki lower him to the ground.
"I'm sorry," said the doctor, cradling the sage in his arms. "His burns..."
"You did your best," I said. I helped the doctor take the Fire Sage's body away. They cremated the dead in the Fire Nation. We put him with the rest of the Fire Nation casualties, wrapped in a blanket. I hoped one of the prisoners of war would be able to tell us his name.
My steps were heavy as I went back to find the others. Appa tentatively licked me. Momo tweaked my hair. Toph took my hand.
"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't know if I was apologising to Sokka, or Appa, or Katara and Zuko. I didn't know anything. I hardly felt anything at all, but there was no enlightenment, no emancipation, just an emptiness that I couldn't name.
Mai
I got smaller in the dark.
For the first few hours after we were arrested, Ty Lee and I shared a cell. Shackled, scared, hardly able to look at each other, but at least we were together.
Separating us was Azula's idea. Even if the deputy warden hadn't taken the time to tell us, we would have recognised Azula's work. No one knew her better than us, after all. Except maybe Zuko. Who'd have thought he'd be the first of us to escape?
She had ordered that we were to be imprisoned separately. Ty Lee, who loved people, was sent into the general prison population. I, who hated crowds and enjoyed my own company, was sent into the very lowest, darkest cells. Solitary confinement.
The deputy warden laughed as the guards took us away.
(I wondered: what happened to my uncle? No one would tell me then, and no one spoke to me now. He could be dead for all I knew.)
After the first few days, I lost track of time. The thick stone walls muffled all light and sound. Meals seemed to come at irregular times, dozens of breakfasts followed by something more substantial. If I stretched out my arms, I could touch both walls of my cell. I had a bed and a bucket, and I could take two steps before I ran out of space.
My own little kingdom.
I tried not to think about anything, but in the end, there was nothing to do but think. I thought about my family, what my parents must be thinking. About the sort of man Tom Tom would grow up to be, and if anyone would ever tell him he had a sister who was a traitor.
I thought about Ty Lee. I tried not to picture all the things she might be going through, because there was nothing I could do to help. Anyway, as she always told me, things were never as bad as I thought.
I tried not to think about Zuko, but there were times, maybe whole days, when it felt like I couldn't do anything else. If he had escaped -- unlikely -- and if he and the Avatar somehow managed to win the war -- even less likely -- I might one day be free. I wouldn't be able to marry, not after what I had done, but maybe I'd be allowed to go and live on my family's country estates. I could sit in the sun -- I had never appreciated the sun before, not properly -- and swim in the lake, and perhaps sometimes the Fire Lord could visit me, privately, when his duties permitted.
I thought that I could stand to be a concubine, if there was sunlight, and Zuko was alive.
My mother would no doubt prefer I stayed in my cell. The thought made me laugh, alone in the darkness. I thought, I sound like a madwoman, and laughed again.
Time passed. My hair got longer, but how fast did hair grow? My body's cycles were unreliable. It was always cold in my cell, and I seemed to sleep a lot. I dreamed of sunlight, and Zuko, our semi-legitimate children growing up and living lives of honourable service to his legal heirs.
They were nice dreams.
I was sleeping when they came for me. At first I thought it was another meal, and I sat up in my little bed, blinking as soldiers with torches stood in the doorway. The light made my eyes water. Two guards hauled me out of bed. They weren't gentle, but they didn't hurt me. One had painted her nails dark red. I had almost forgotten what colour looked like.
They led me towards the surface. To the execution grounds? I had expected Azula to linger over our punishment. But I'd misjudged her before.
We passed the execution grounds. My knees buckled. I was weak from inadequate food and exercise, that was all. It wasn't relief. Only weakness.
The guards all but carried me to the gondola. No one spoke. In silence, we journeyed across the boiling lake.
There was an airship waiting for us, not the ornate craft that Azula used, but a utilitarian troop carrier. I was escorted aboard and into a new cell. I didn't mind. I sat on the cot and rested my cheek against the metal walls, and marvelled at the way the steel reflected the light.
Eventually they brought me food. Bland prison mash, but a bland prison mash I had never tasted before. It was lovely. After I ate, I slept, and I didn't wake until the balloon landed. The guards accompanied me down the ramp. On the ground, a squadron of Imperial firebenders waited.
"The prisoner is yours," the most senior guard said, bowing. The leader of the Imperial firebenders offered a shallow bow in reply. He didn't deign to speak. He didn't even remove his helmet. The symbolic third eye shimmered in the light.
They led me through the city in silence.
It was sunset, and the sky was orange. The sun sat, swollen and grotesque, over the horizon. The air smelled of smoke. There were scorch marks on many of the buildings, but as we grew closer to the palace, intact buildings gave way to burned wrecks. I caught a glimpse of my family's home, nothing more than blackened stone walls.
It was the smoke and dust that made my eyes water. I never cried.
The air was clearer inside the palace, and the guards even stopped to give me some water. I drained the cup twice, but there was no point in putting it off forever. When the cup was empty a second time, I said, "All right. Take me to see her."
It was the first time I'd spoken in -- well, since I had been arrested. Turned traitor. I was almost amazed at how normal my voice sounded.
The corridors seemed emptier than I remembered. I had practically grown up in the palace, getting in the way of servants and guards, ministers and lords. Now, the only people we passed were a trio of Dai Li agents.
"Thought they'd been banished," one of the guards muttered.
"Where would they go?" said another.
"Quiet," snapped the leader.
The doors to the throne room were closed. Before them waited another squad of Imperial firebenders. And with them, Ty Lee.
Her hair had been cropped short and there were shadows under her eyes, but she straightened when she saw me, and her smile lit up her whole face. If not for the shackles binding her hands and feet, and the guards surrounding her, I thought she might have hugged me.
There was no time for a joyous reunion, though, because the doors opened and we were led into the throne room.
The last time I had been in here, I'd just returned from Ba Sing Se to hear that my father had lost Omashu, and Zuko had turned traitor, and that the Fire Lord had expected me to account for it. Not because he thought I could give him answers, I had realised (pressing my face into the stone floor and praying that I'd say the right thing), but because I made a convenient target for his anger.
Maybe that was the moment I realised I didn't care anymore. I had always maintained a show of indifference, but deep down, I was as loyal as Ty Lee. Until the moment Azula's father made me beg for my life, punishing me for the twin crimes of being born to idiots and loving his son.
The throne room hadn't changed much since that day, except that there was a blue tinge to the flames that ringed the Fire Lord's dais, and it was Azula looking down at us. The guards pushed us to our knees, then left us, retreating to the shadows.
I couldn't see Azula's face. The flames between us twisted and danced, distorting her. All I could see clearly were the sharp curves of the Fire Lord's ceremonial hairpiece. Only the height and slimness of her figure identified her as Azula. Otherwise, it could have been the Sun Spirit himself up there.
"Traitors," she said, her voice rising over the crackle of the flames, "I have defeated my brother in an Agni Kai."
I kept my gaze steady. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of letting her see a reaction.
"My father has been defeated and captured by the Avatar," she went on, "but I am his loyal daughter, and his saviour."
There was a tremble in her voice. Ty Lee heard it, too; I felt her stiffen. This was new, and where Azula was concerned, innovation never meant anything good.
She went on speaking, but I was listening to the sound of her voice, not her words. I knew Azula's voice as well as I knew my own mother's, and this -- she hesitated where she should have charged, her enunciation too studied, her phrases artificial. I had seen her persuade the Dai Li to betray the Earth Kingdom, but this new Azula couldn't have sold ice to the Water Tribe.
She was almost pitiful.
Almost.
"At dawn," she was saying, "as a new era begins for the Fire Nation, we shall cleanse ourselves of treachery and put an end to the fear of betrayal that haunts us..."
She trailed off.
"Azula," said Ty Lee, half standing up, "are you all right?"
Azula gave an incoherent cry and threw a great tongue of fire at her. I was still on my knees, but I shifted my weight and threw myself against Ty Lee, knocking her out of the way.
"Take them away," Azula screamed at the guards. "Take them to my brother. Let them see what happens to people who defy me."
I thought we would be taken down to tiny cells that lay beneath the palace, where the very worst of the Fire Lord's prisoners were kept in ancient volcanic bunkers. Instead, the soldiers led us through the residential corridors of the palace, past the Fire Lord's rooms, to the chambers once occupied by Princess Ursa. We were almost pushed through the door, as if the guards didn't want to enter themselves. Then the doors were closed behind us, and locked, and we were left alone.
I had been in these chambers before, a long time ago. Princess Ursa's sitting room had been sunlit and pleasant, more comfortable than the grander rooms. Now they were dark and musty, with only a few torches for illumination. The air stank of burnt meat. The curtains were in tatters and the chairs and carpets were scorched. Scrolls and books lay everywhere, some burnt, others merely torn and crushed. A mirror had been shattered. And on the floor in the centre of the room lay Zuko.
He was on his side, breathing heavily. His skin was covered in scorch marks, the source of the meat smell that was turning my stomach. Part of his hair was burnt away.
I dropped to my knees at his side, reaching for him. I hesitated for a moment, worried about his raw, red skin. Then he opened his eyes and saw me. He smiled, his fingers finding mine, curling around my hand.
"I knew you'd come," he said, his voice cracked, his breath wheezing. "Told her she was afraid." He tried to laugh, though it was barely more than a puff of breath. "Guess I won."
"Water," I told Ty Lee.
There was a pitcher and cup on the other side of the room. Azula's keen eye for punishment again. Zuko was too weak to crawl, and she had left him with a heavy silver pitcher set up high on a table. But at least it did contain water. Ty Lee poured, and I helped him drink.
I had to hold the cup, he was shaking so badly. When he couldn't drink anymore, he collapsed into my lap, drawing deep, shuddering breaths.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry." His hands were cold.
"Don't be stupid," I told him.
"No," he said, "I'm really sorry."
Haltingly, pausing every few words for more water, he told us about the Agni Kai.
"Azula broke the rules," he said. "Of course she broke the rules." Ty Lee gave him more water. "I wasn't fast enough. Lightning. Katara. Gone. Don't know. How long it's been. Since the Comet."
I looked blankly at Ty Lee.
"A week."
He blinked, and a tear dropped from his good eye. I watched it drip over his ear.
"My fault," he said. "Should have remembered. Azula always cheats." He shifted, awkwardly. I wished that I knew something about medicine. He was so cold. A firebender shouldn't be that cold. "She forgave me," he said.
Ty Lee frowned. "Azula?"
"Katara. She should have stayed angry. Then she wouldn't have come." He clutched at my arm. "You have to tell them," he said. "That I'm sorry. My fault."
I wanted to speak, but I had no words at all. I looked at Ty Lee, and she said, "No one blames you, Zuko. She knew what Azula could do, and she made her choice. Right?"
He sighed, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body.
We sat in silence for a long time, the three of us. Ty Lee put her head on my shoulder, her hand on Zuko's arm.
"My mother's alive," he said. "He told me. My father. Last time I saw him."
And you believed him? I wanted to say, but I didn't, because there was a smile on his lips. In a few hours, it wouldn't matter what he believed.
"I would have liked to find her," he said. "I think. Maybe she'd be proud."
Anyone who wasn't proud to have Zuko for a son -- I couldn't finish that thought. Not here. Not now.
"Listen," he said, shifting his weight. He patted the floor at his side, searching for something. "You need to tell my uncle. Tell Uncle he'll have to find someone else. And that I'm sorry." He pressed something small, hard and cold into my hand.
It was a pai sho tile, the kind from a set that was carved by hand for wealthy noblewomen, then handed down to their daughters and granddaughters. This was one of the old flower tiles, the kind that had been popular when my great-great grandmother was a girl. Useless, but exquisite, carved from jade and ivory. I showed it to Ty Lee, who shook her head, echoing my confusion.
"Zuko," I said, "we don't understand."
"It was my mother's," he said. "They'll get you out of here. They promised."
"Who promised, Zuko?"
"Tell Uncle," he repeated, and fell silent.
After a while, he began to shiver. Ty Lee found a blanket and wrapped it around him, but his hands were like ice, and nothing we did could warm him.
I missed the moment when he stopped breathing. Ty Lee buried her face in my shoulder, shaking with silent sobs, and I felt nothing, nothing at all. I put my arms around Ty Lee and rocked her until she stopped crying.
Eventually, I realised we were not alone.
It was few hours before dawn, still too dark to see their faces, but I recognised the silhouettes of Lo and Li.
"Come with us," Li said.
"If you want to live," said Lo.
Ty Lee looked up, wiping her face.
"You were banished," she said.
"The Fire Lord knows she needs us," said Li.
"We look after her," said Lo.
"But not Zuko," I said. My legs had gone to sleep, sitting so still with his body in my arms. I moved carefully, as if he were asleep, and covered his face with the blanket.
"We couldn't help Prince Zuko," said Li.
"But you can save us?" Ty Lee asked.
"Come with us."
It wasn't like we had anything left to lose.
The royal palace was riddled with passages. Some were used by servants or guards. Many were forgotten. We used to play hide and seek in them when we were kids, until Zuko got lost for three hours and Princess Ursa forbade the games. This passage ran from the princess's rooms to the chambers traditionally occupied by the second in line for the throne. They had sat empty since Ozai's ascension, but the faintest trace of his scent lingered in the still air. My skin crawled.
"What's going to happen to us?" I asked.
"A troop carrier leaves for Ba Sing Se in three hours," said Li, leading us into another passage.
"The Grand Lotus will be there," Lo added.
Princess Ursa's pai sho tile was still warm in my hand. I snuck a look at it. The white lotus tile. Zuko...?
He beyond the reach of my questions now. The answers lay in Ba Sing Se.
This passage was wide and brightly lit, lined with shelves and closets, and doors leading to larger storage areas. The back of my neck began to prickle. Dawn was only an hour away. There should have been servants down here. We were in the middle of the residential wing of the palace. We should not have been alone.
"What," I began, but the twins, speaking as one, cut me off.
"Quiet."
Ty Lee squeezed my hand.
We were heading west. Towards the army base. The war balloons. Freedom? I didn't think the Earth Kingdom would welcome us, so soon after we had helped Azula take Ba Sing Se. But the very worst punishment they could offer us was still better than Azula.
We turned a corner. Almost there. Then Ty Lee made a choking noise, moving into a fighting stance.
It took me a moment to see it: the figure of a man, leaning against the wall in the shadows. A soldier.
"He's dead," I said.
"It was necessary," said Li, or Lo, I didn't know. Or care. He was pinned to the wall by five throwing knives, and his throat had been slit.
The knives were the creation of the master craftswoman, Jin Re Sun. They were, if not my own actual knives, then identical in style and design.
Lo and Li watched me as I studied the blades, their faces unreadable.
Then they walked on, and after a moment, Ty Lee and I followed.
I had never killed. As far as I knew, I had never even caused a serious injury, although that had more to do with the skill of my opponents than any benevolence on my part. I didn't think I'd have a problem with death, but this had been butchery, and wasteful.
I squeezed my lotus tile and watched Li and Lo, and wished I had my knives.
The passage turned into a tunnel that ended in rough steps leading to a door that opened onto a little alley that ran between two army barracks.
"The second officer on the Glory of the Comet will help you," said Li.
"If you're caught," said Lo, "we will kill you before you can betray us."
They vanished in a whisper of fabric, leaving us alone. The sun was rising. I took a deep breath, savouring the moment.
"Mai," said Ty Lee, "I can't go with you."
I opened my eyes.
"What?"
"The prisoners of war," she said, "I owe them my life. Now I have a chance to help them escape."
"Or to help them die," I snapped.
Ty Lee shook her head. "I have to try." She threw her arms around me. "You go to Ba Sing Se and tell General Iroh what happened. We'll follow." She gave me a bright, wide smile, just as she did the day before she ran away from us to join the circus. "Look for us. We'll follow you."
She vanished back into the tunnel, and I was alone.
The second officer on the war balloon was an older man named Jee. He provided me with papers and a uniform that proclaimed me an infantry private, non-bender. I had a bunk in a cabin with five other soldiers, standard-issue weapons and three meals a day.
The other women in my cabin hadn't been paid for two months. Three were still injured from the collision of two war balloons during Ozai's attempted razing of the Earth Kingdom. Our weapons were cheaply made and easily broken. And our rations ranged from slightly stale to almost rotten.
The military machine that had conquered the world was close to breaking. I wondered if Azula knew or cared.
It was a three-day journey to Ba Sing Se. I kept to myself, afraid that my ignorance and inexperience would give me away. The other soldiers assumed I was a new recruit, and teased me about joining too late for the fun part. I pretended to smile, and waited for them to get bored.
I didn't sleep much. I was afraid of letting my guard down, of giving myself away. I was afraid of dreaming.
Zuko was dead. I was alive.
I tried not to think about it.
To keep busy, I started gathering weapons. The engineering section was full of soldiers honing their tools. The standard military dagger was next to useless for throwing until I cut off the hilt and reshaped the blade. The spear head got the same treatment. After that, I began sharpening all the little metal objects that came into my hands: coins, a large earring, some nails, a pair of metal chopsticks. I had no material to fashion holsters or launchers, but there were lots of pockets beneath my armour. No one paid attention to me. Even the rawest recruits knew our assigned weapons were inadequate.
On the morning of the third day, I rose from a restless half-sleep and waited for the next move. After breakfast, Lieutenant Jee pulled me aside.
"You were a friend of the prince?" he asked.
"Something like that," I said.
"Tell General Iroh that a lot of people would stand with him. If he needed us."
I nodded.
"We'll be landing in a few hours. Just outside the inner wall."
"That's..."
"It's a diversion," he said. "The real assault will be in the city itself. The Fire Lord has sent an elite squad to rescue her father from the Earth Kingdom prison."
"And the infantry?"
"We're buying the Phoenix King's freedom with our lives." He looked grim. "I survived Zhao's attack on the Northern Water Tribe. I didn't think I'd end up dying here."
They were waiting for us when we landed. Ba Sing Se was defended by a motley army of Earth Kingdom soldiers and civilians, even a few Dai Li agents. They should have crumbled before the Fire Nation soldiers, but we were too tired and too poorly equipped to do more than struggle against the inevitable.
I kept my helmet down, trying to avoid trouble, looking for someone who might not kill me on sight. The ground was shaking as the earthbenders did their work. I had to fight to keep my balance. Then, in the chaos, I saw a familiar flash of green. The Kyoshi Warrior that Zuko and his Water Tribe friend had freed from the Boiling Rock.
Suki. That was her name. I had helped capture her. I hoped she remembered that I'd helped free her as well.
She looked tired, but she was fighting two men at once, wielding her fans with deadly grace. But she couldn't see the third man preparing to join the fight.
I threw one of my projectiles at the newcomer, and was rewarded with a scream as my improvised dart pierced his hand. At the same time, I shouted, "Suki!"
She took advantage of her opponents' distraction to finish them -- disabled, I noted, not dead -- then turned to me. I raised my helmet and threw it away.
"Mai?" she said, "...was that a chopstick?"
"This is just a diversion," I told her. "The special forces have been sent to rescue Ozai."
Her jaw set. For a second I thought she didn't believe me, then she nodded.
"Come on," she said. "Colonel Shi! We need to get reinforcements to the palace prison now!"
"What--"
"Hurry!"
She was running back towards the city, repeating my message to the Earth Kingdom colonel, to a Dai Li captain and to the little blind earthbender who had travelled with the Avatar. Toph scowled and, shifting her weight, opened a passage for us right through the inner wall. On the other side, Colonel Shi peeled away to send a signal, but Suki kept running.
"I've got a better idea," said the earthbender girl. She moved the ground itself beneath us, so that all we had to do was hang on and watch the city pass in a blur.
We were still too late. When we arrived at the prison, the walls were scorched. Four guards lay on the ground, arrows protruding from their bodies.
"Yu Yan arrows," I said.
"At this range, they didn't stand a chance." A general approached. I recognised him: he had been one of the Earth King's advisers, and had dealt with Azula in her Kyoshi Warrior disguise. How was his name. General How. He gave me a long look, as if he was trying to place my face. Or maybe he was just wondering why a Fire Nation soldier had delivered this warning.
Behind him, limping and using a crutch, was Sokka. The dead girl's brother. He looked gaunt, haunted. He recognised me right away, eyes widening in surprise as he took in my armour, the makeshift weapons still in my hands, my presence in the company of his friends.
"Where's the Avatar?" General How asked him.
"Another balloon landed at the east gate. He went to help take care of it."
The general made a noise like a grunt of disappointment or disapproval.
"He can't be everywhere at once," Sokka snapped.
The way to the cells was littered with bodies, scorched and slashed, and all dead. I was tired of seeing dead people. I was tired. Ozai was gone, on his way back to Azula.
"What can he do without his bending?" General How wondered.
Sokka, Suki and I exchanged a brief, wry glance. "Plenty," Sokka said.
"And how can we trust her?" How pointed at me. "She's Azula's ally. Last year, she helped the princess take the city."
"I was given this." I pulled the white lotus tile from my inner pocket, but How looked blank. Sokka, behind him, nodded, but said nothing.
The Earth Kingdom soldiers were surprisingly gentle as they led me away. I was stripped, my weapons confiscated, but they gave me clean clothes and even a meal of noodles and fresh vegetables before taking me to my new cell. This one had a high window that admitted a little light. The mattress was hard, but there was a warm blanket. It was a nice cell. I could see myself being very happy here. They had let me keep my pai sho tile, and I clutched it so hard my knuckles turned white. I curled up with my knees against my chest and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
Azula
Maybe I was going mad.
I should have been happy. I had everything I wanted. Why wasn't I happy?
Something was wrong. With me, with the Fire Nation. The treasuries were empty, the troops were overstretched. It was as if, in declaring himself Phoenix King, Father had decided to gut the Fire Nation, leaving us nothing more than another conquered subject-nation.
With me as another conquered subject-queen.
Did he really think so little of me? This thought had been haunting me since Father left. I had even sunk so low as to ask Zuko.
He had turned to look at me -- it was only two days after the Comet, and he was still strong enough to stand, if he made an effort -- and said, "Maybe it's worse, being his favourite. You're just a weapon to him, Azula. Maybe if you can see that--"
Whatever wisdom he was about to impart -- cobbled together, no doubt, from things Uncle had said in his lessons on treachery -- were lost in his scream as I burned him again.
"Fire Lord."
I raised my eyes from the ledger. The servant bowed lower, as if hiding her face. Hiding from me.
"It's time, Fire Lord."
"Have the ministers summoned," I told her. "I'll see them next."
I went to watch them burn my brother's body.
I wore no mourning clothes, and the Sages -- the only other people in attendance -- were not foolish enough to don the white themselves. It was a short ceremony, befitting a servant rather than a prince. Just his name, and the names of his parents and ancestors. No titles. No achievements. His name alone would be added to the ancestor shrine within the Sages' temple. He would be quickly forgotten.
Goodbye, Zuzu.
"You think you're beyond forgiveness," said my mother. "You always did underestimate people."
I ignored her. We were alone at the pavilion, the Sages, Zuko and me. My mother was dead. Father had told me she was dead. Father had never lied to me.
I watched until Zuko was nothing but ash.
The ministers were assembled in the throne room. Some of the ministers. I had banished them, I recalled, in those hours when it had seemed as if reality itself had turned against me. I was much better now. Much. Better.
Some of the ministers had stayed, despite my orders, along with the Dai Li and Li and Lo. People who would do what they thought was good for me, not what I asked of them. Or maybe they thought they were serving a higher purpose.
On my throne, behind the wall of flames that rose and fell at my control, I realised they were wrong. Serving me was the highest purpose they could ever know. And if they forgot that -- if they ever forgot--
"Tell me again," I said, "how the traitors escaped."
"The body of a soldier was found in the tunnels beneath the palace," said the Minister for Interior Security. "The evidence would suggest they were killed by the Lady Mai."
"Did I not order that all the exits from those chambers were to be sealed?" I kept my voice pleasant. "I'm sure I was very clear, Minister Lau."
"Fire Lord," he said, bowing lower, "there must have been an oversight. I beg forgiveness."
"The traitors went on to break key prisoners of war out of the Imperial Prison," I said. "I hope I'm not expected to forgive that, too."
"That," said Minister Lau awkwardly, "was a military undertaking."
Meaning that they had stolen military ordinance and escaped in an army war balloon. Excuses. "Have you found the bodies?" I asked.
"No, Fire Lord. My agents saw Lady Ty Lee fall, but they couldn't find her body. They searched the Lower Quarter most thoroughly, Fire Lord."
The Minister for the Capital scowled. No doubt his underlings were being plagued with complaints about heavy handed domestic security forces ransacking their shops and houses. But he said nothing.
"And Mai?" I asked.
"Nothing, Fire Lord. It's possible she escaped with the rest of the prisoners."
The wall of flames rose with my anger. For a moment, my pathetic ministers were concealed from view. There was a flicker of pink on the edge of my vision, an echo of Ty Lee's laughter. I ignored them.
"General Shin," I said, "at least tell me you made an attempt to chase the escapees."
"An attempt, Fire Lord," he said. "Our resources are stretched rather thin at present."
Was this a criticism of my plan to rescue Father? He wouldn't dare. I would happily lose a few barbarian prisoners if it meant releasing my father from the indignity of an Earth Kingdom prison. Surely they could all see that.
He was still talking -- about paying the armed forces, about replacing people and equipment lost in in the attack on the Earth Kingdom. Many of the survivors from Father's forces were in prison camps on the other side of the ocean, and they were the lucky ones.
"Divert troops from the western colonies," I told General Shin.
He wanted to raise the taxes on the colonies as well, and recruit new soldiers from the colonial youth. The Minister for Finance objected that this would leave the colonies unprotected and without workers to generate taxable income. Revolt, he hinted, would surely not be far behind. He always had been an alarmist.
I let the minister have his taxes, but extra troops would have to come from the Domestic Forces. Minister Lau looked unhappy, but said nothing.
Alone again at last, I retreated to the enormous office that lay behind the throne room. This had been Father's domain, and I had spent many hours in here, ostensibly doing school work, but actually watching him conduct the business of ruling the Fire Nation.
I was beginning to realise he had made it look easy.
I went back to the ledgers. The numbers produced the same result every time: bankruptcy. The colonial taxes would help, but they would be poured straight into the military, which seemed, from my new perspective, to consume money in exchange for more land that needed defending.
I wanted to set fire to all of it and start again from scratch. But Father had already tried that, and failed. I went over the numbers again.
Three days after my brother's funeral, I received a message that my father had been rescued and was on his way home. We had lost two troop carriers and infantry units, which -- as General Shin pointed out -- couldn't well be spared, but the sacrifice would be worth it.
On the day of Father's return, I dressed with extra care, having my hair pinned away from my forehead to conceal the burned and ragged edges. I put on my make-up with my own hands.
The reflection in the mirror looked older, perfectly in control. A Fire Lord my father could serve with honour and respect. When he made his bow to me, it would be as a warrior wounded in battle to his rightful leader, not as a father to his daughter. He left as the Phoenix King and would return as nothing, but surely he knew I'd be magnanimous.
With him as my advisor, I could rebuild the Fire Nation, recover our former glory and more.
I waited for him in the throne room.
I had feared that he would be somehow diminished by his experiences, that the theft of his bending would leave him physically marred. But as he approached, my father looked as he ever did, like the Sun Spirit himself come to life. He was dressed in military armour without rank insignia, and he looked as proud and powerful as any of the guards who accompanied him.
He strode to the centre of the throne room, leaving the guards behind. He stood before me, looking at me through the flames.
"My daughter," he said.
He did not bow.
Mai
In the end I only spent a day in my new cell. I was roused from my sleep by a guard and taken to bathe and dress. It was the first time I had seen a proper mirror -- or a bath -- in weeks. I scrubbed myself raw, revelling in the hot water. When I emerged, I found clean clothes waiting, in shades of green so dark as to be black. There was even embroidery on the sleeves and collars, not ornate, but of a high enough quality that no one would look at me twice if they passed me in the Upper Ring.
My new hairpins, I noted, were of good quality, enamelled with flower patterns, and above all, blunt. The wide, heavy sleeves of my outer gown contained pockets. I slipped my lotus tile into one, and wondered how many weapons I could conceal. If I was ever allowed to go armed again.
When I was ready, I took a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom.
Three men waited for me, looking incongruous in what was plainly an Earth Kingdom noble-woman's chambers. One had a shock of white hair and a scarred face. Beside him stood a slightly younger man, with dark skin, a neat beard and a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
Beside him stood the King of Omashu.
I made a very deep bow and greeted him formally as the daughter of a provincial governor to an honoured subject-monarch.
He giggled.
His smile grew wider when I greeted Admiral Jeong Jeong. He had once been -- not a friend of my father's, but a valuable political ally, until he deserted. It had taken a moment to recognise him with his hair worn loose like a barbarian.
The third man was Piandao, the swordsmaster, whom I knew by reputation. I had once hoped to study beneath him, before his dissident politics became common knowledge.
Feeling stupid, I said to Bumi, "Do I have the honour of addressing the Grand Lotus?"
King Bumi laughed again, Piandao grinned, and even Jeong Jeong looked amused.
"No," Piandao told me. "We were sent to confirm your identity. Among other things."
I held my hands out at my sides, and very gently, he checked my sleeves.
"Nothing?" said Bumi.
"The bathroom was almost bare," I told him, "and I didn't have time to sharpen the hairpins."
His smile was almost approving.
They led me through a labyrinth of corridors, to a bright, sunny room with a view that overlooked the whole city. One table held a tea pot and cups, and some late summer fruit. The other held a pai sho board.
In front of the window, his back to the door, stood General Iroh.
My throat closed up. I wasn't ready for this.
"The Lady Mai," said Jeong Jeong. The three men left, Piandao closing the door behind them, and I was alone with Zuko's uncle.
The last time I had seen General Iroh, he was being led from Azula's ship in chains. I hadn't want to look at him. I had been angry, in fact, that this was being done so openly, because I felt the way Zuko tensed when his uncle appeared, and I wanted Zuko to be happy. But we had all stopped and watched the General being taken away: a sad, defeated man who had lost everything and gained nothing.
Looking at him now -- neatly dressed, free, respected -- I thought he might look back at the chained prisoner he had been, and envy that man.
He looked old. Pale and puffy, his eyes dull and a little bloodshot. But he managed something like a smile as he turned.
He gestured at the pai sho board. "Do you play?"
"Not well."
Growing up, I had been the best player in our circle. Ty Lee was too flighty, Zuko was erratic, and Azula never saw the point of any game that didn't involve setting things on fire. But it had been a long time since I played, let alone against a master.
"Perhaps you will honour me with a game," he said, and helped me into my seat.
The first game, I lost.
I lost the second game too, but not as badly. The third game I almost won, until Iroh brought his white lotus tile into play.
"You did well," he said when my final defence collapsed. "Not many people appreciate the red chrysanthemum gambit."
"My grandmother taught me to play."
"She would be proud." The general made tea and offered me fruit. When I had eaten, and he had poured my second cup, he said, "Tell me about my nephew."
This was what I had been dreading.
"He died in my arms," I said. "Three days ago. No, four. Some time after midnight." I looked at my hands, clutching my cup, and tried to push my emotions to one side, as if I was speaking about something else. As if I was a stranger, narrating my life.
This was something else my grandmother had taught me.
"He was badly burned, but I think there must have been internal injuries as well. I didn't know. We couldn't do anything but give him water and keep him warm, and sit with him. He wanted me to tell you he was sorry. I don't know what for."
The general shook his head.
"Nothing," he said. "He had nothing to be ashamed of."
"He was very upset about the Water Tribe girl."
"Katara. Yes. Many people grieve for Katara."
"And he said you'd have to find someone else." I looked up at him, wondering what the message meant, but his gaze was distant, and there were tears in my eyes. I looked down again, trying to swallow my feelings.
"It isn't fair," I said. "He should have had a long, happy and boring life." For a second, I wanted to throw the tea cup across the room, just for the satisfaction of breaking something delicate.
Instead, I put it down, and put my hands in my lap. I could feel Iroh watching me now, and I forced my jaw to relax.
"You must have loved him very much," he said.
Like a child, I shrugged. "I trusted him."
He didn't press me.
"We've persuaded the Council of Five to give you your freedom," he said.
I should have been happy. I was happy. But the world outside that window seemed very large.
"Where will I go?" I asked.
Diffidently, the general said, "I have an apartment in the Upper Ring, with a spare room." Zuko's room, I thought. "My tea shop is back in business. I could use a new assistant."
I raised my eyebrows, both at the mental image of the Dragon of the West serving tea to Ba Sing Se's upper classes, and at the prospect of doing so myself.
He added, "I imagine your grandmother also taught you the tea ceremonies."
Along with calligraphy, music and the art of the shuriken. I nodded.
"Then you'll do well."
What else was there?
So my life fell into a sort of routine: I would sleep late into the mornings, then wander around the city for a couple of hours, before putting on an apron and serving tea from the afternoon to the evening. It was boring, but I found I liked that. Being bored meant that I wasn't afraid for my life, and there were moments, when I was busy, when I could forget about Zuko and everything else, and just exist. No one noticed serving girls. In my apron, I became invisible.
In the evenings, after the Jasmine Dragon closed, people would gather. I thought of them as Iroh's friends, though it was the Avatar around whom they all revolved. Even me, I suppose, without thinking about it. They came together to exchange news and make plans. To eat and drink in the company of friends. To grieve.
The Avatar stayed on the edge of these gatherings, resisting all attempts at drawing him into conversation. One evening, I saw him slipping outside. On impulse, I poured two fresh cups of tea and followed him.
"It's jasmine," I said, setting a cup down beside him.
"Thanks."
I sat down myself, a little way away, so he wouldn't feel like I was forcing him to be social. His bison, resting on the warm flagstones in front of me, rumbled softly. The lemur crawled onto my shoulder, making a nest in my hair and chittering. I'd never spent much time around animals, but I patted him cautiously.
"This is good," the Avatar said, sipping his tea.
"Iroh's a good teacher."
"That's what Zuko used to say." He broke off, giving me a sidelong glance to make sure I wasn't about to burst into tears. "He made tea for us most evenings."
I could imagine. When he spent the night at my house, that was the sort of thing he enjoyed. "Playing at families."
"Yeah." The Avatar's voice cracked, and he looked like he was about to start crying. "Except for the chores. He hated doing that stuff. We said, who doesn't? But that just made him complain more."
"Until I came here, I'd never done a chore in my life," I said.
"It must be tough for you," said the Avatar, and he didn't sound like he was talking about domestic chores. "It's like you've inherited his place."
"I'm not a firebender."
"That's not what I meant. Katara--"
He stopped, and now there were tears in his eyes. His fists clenched. I wanted to look away. I didn't.
I moved closer to him.
"The secret to not letting them see your feelings," I whispered, "is to relax. Just breathe and let it pass, like water over a stone."
My grandmother's advice worked. He breathed until he became calmer. His jaw relaxed. When I looked at him again, in the greenish light of the Earth Kingdom torches, his face was a mask.
"Water wears away stone," he said.
"It's all I have."
I finished my tea and went inside.
This routine lasted only a couple of weeks. Then the escapees started coming in, the prisoners Ty Lee had rescued. A trio of swamp-dwellers. A shortsighted man missing three fingers on his left hand. An elderly earthbender. Two enormous men who called themselves Pipsqueak and the Boulder. Water Tribe warriors.
They arrived in little groups. All knew Ty Lee. None could tell me if she was alive.
The last to arrive were the Kyoshi Warriors. I served them tea, then lingered.
"Ty Lee," I said. "Do you know--"
"She fell," said one warrior girl.
"No, she jumped," said another.
"Either way," said the first, "she never made it out of the capital. Maybe she thought she could do more good on the ground. I didn't see her land. I didn't see anything after she left." The Kyoshi Warrior looked apologetic beneath her face-paint. She even squeezed my hand. "Ty Lee was a good person," she said.
I couldn't sleep that night. My head was full of memories and grief. I got up to get a drink of water, and froze in the doorway of my room.
In the dim light of the new moon I could see Iroh, sitting lotus-style on a cushion. Around him, burning sticks of incense were arranged in a half-circle. His eyes were open, but he didn't see me.
He was very far away.
I went back into my room and slid the door shut behind me.
I had heard rumours, of course, of General Iroh's journey into the Spirit World after his son's death. The stories had kept Azula amused for months, and she had encouraged us to find the most disrespectful and absurd variations.
It had never once occurred to me that the stories might have been true.
The unfamiliar smell of the incense worked its way into my room. I lay on my sleeping mat and tried not to breathe too deeply.
The next day, he seemed perfectly normal, like a man with nothing on his mind beyond his next meal and a game of pai sho. And Azula had always thought she was the great liar in the family.
I considered asking him about it, but I kept my mouth shut. Part of me was afraid to hear the answer.
With the newcomers, the demand for action rose. Everyone had come in with a different account of Fire Nation weaknesses, which they presented to the Avatar and General Iroh as if to say, Your move.
They didn't move.
"I don't understand it," I said to Toph one morning as we wandered through the Lower Ring, "what are they waiting for?"
"Beats me," she said. "But if I don't do something soon, I might just have to start knocking down walls again."
Toph and the Avatar had gone out one day and brought down all the walls that separated the rings of Ba Sing Se. They had turned up at the Jasmine Dragon covered in dust and unrepentant. It was the first time I had seen Aang smile since I arrived in Ba Sing Se. The municipal earthbenders took a week to rebuild all the walls. General How, Sokka told me, had been furious.
"The longer they wait, the stronger Azula's position will be."
"Hey, I'm not the one sitting around waiting for an invitation."
That night, General How joined us at the Jasmine Dragon. He drank half a cup of oolong tea, then said, "So, Avatar. When do you propose to move against the new Fire Lord?"
Aang said, "I don't know."
"General Iroh," said How, "what is your next move?"
Iroh stroked his beard. "I really need to order more pu'er tea."
"Are you all cowards?"
"We're tired, General How," said Chief Hakoda. I had never heard him speak before. Now he rose to his feet. "The Fire Nation is exhausted and overstretched, but so are we. A lot of us have just escaped from prison. Of the rest, half are children, and battle-weary."
There was a general murmur of agreement.
"We're not an army," pointed out the girl called Smellerbee.
"You could lead armies," said How.
"You got one handy?" called one of the Water Tribe men.
General How said nothing. Earth Kingdom troops were scattered across the continent. But he was a good soldier. He made one more attempt.
"Chief Hakoda," he started.
"No." Hakoda sat down, slowly. "I need to go home and mourn my daughter. After that," he pulled a bone knife from its sheath and laid it on the table, "we'll end this war."
Later, I found the Avatar outside. We had a routine by now, sitting in silence.
"Sokka's going to the South Pole," he said. "And Suki. And Toph, even though she won't be able to see in the snow."
"You?" I asked.
"I can't." His mask cracked. "Katara would be alive if she hadn't gone with me. How can I go back and look her grandmother in the eye? Why would they even want me there?" His voice rose, and there was a gust of wind as he waved his arms.
A lot of thoughts were going through my head, starting with the fact that the South Pole was probably full of ways for girls to die, even without a war. There were footsteps behind me.
"Of course we want you there," said Sokka, putting his hand on Aang's shoulder. "And so would Katara."
When everyone was gone, and we were cleaning up, I said to Iroh, "What are you going to do about Azula?"
He said, "Wait."
Despite the warmth of the early autumn air, I shivered.
Part 2
no subject
Date: 2011-08-17 02:25 pm (UTC)I wanted to set fire to all of it and start again from scratch. But Father had already tried that, and failed.
Ahahah. Oh, Azula. And the best part is, I can't tell if she's joking or not. (I wonder if even she knows.)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-20 05:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-17 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-20 05:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-21 04:02 pm (UTC)If I use one of the pale default highlighting colors (as I imagine most Mac users do), it works fine--but I normally keep my system highlight set to black.
White on white would work better (I doubt anyone uses white to highlight?), although this method of spoiler-highlighting is not, I gather, very screenreader-friendly. I'm not sure there are any ideal solutions, though.