Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Prince Zuko," Yin said, and bowed without awkwardness—not, perhaps, as low as she might have if Zuko had been standing in the throne room in Da Su-Lien, but certainly lower than necessary given his status now. The man who had followed her off the boat did the same. "General Iroh," she added, and bowed even lower.

"What do you want?" Zuko snapped, before Iroh could even open his mouth to reply.

Rude; but Yin did not look upset. Then again, Mizan thought, the woman was used to handling Zhao—next to that, Zuko's abruptness probably sounded perfectly reasonable.

"Nothing," Yin said, "if you do not wish it. Zhao is gone—"

"And we were there when he went—something you might do well to remember," Zuko said.

Yin looked at him consideringly for a moment, and then dipped her head. "Very true," she said, glancing at Iroh. "The word of the Dragon of the West would not be disregarded by my superiors—but I do not intend that you should feel the need to barter it. Zhao is gone; his quarrel with you had no cause discernable to anyone but him, I think. It is my duty to keep you from Fire Nation territory, but aside from that, I do not wish you ill. The seas we must cross to reach the south again are wide and dangerous, sailed by pirates and enemy fleets. I cannot think our company would go amiss."

Mizan stared, and then shook her head a little; perhaps something in her ears had been knocked askew by the wave. "Apologies, Lieutenant—"

"Sub-Admiral," the man beside Yin corrected, tone polite.

"Sub-Admiral," Mizan amended. "You are offering to escort us? Are you hoping to have all your sailors executed?"

"To escort you back to Port Tsao," Yin said, "not through the Gates of Azulon. I realize even that may qualify as lawbreaking to the truly zealous—but, you may recall, when we first commandeered this ship, the target of the law in question appeared to be dead."

"You propose that my nephew remain dead until we reach the port again," General Iroh said, and Mizan could tell that he was smiling, just a little.

"Essentially, yes," Yin agreed, and turned to Zuko, bowing slightly. "It is possible that I will have to discover you, and publically express my horror at your presence; I hope it is not too much to ask that you add stowing away in a Navy ship to your official list of crimes."

"I am already punished," Zuko said, grim, and Mizan fought the urge to roll her eyes. "It won't make anything worse."

"Excellent," Yin said.

The room was long and wide, dim except for the wall of flames that burned day and night before the throne, and the carpet was narrow; it made for a distinctly intimidating walk, if you weren't used to it.

"Ah, my daughter; there you are," Father said, and Azula fancied that somewhere behind the flames, he was smiling.

"As you requested," she said, bowing low, and then sat up straight. She knelt, as all who attended the Fire Lord must, but she was not subservient.

"I have a task for you," Father said, and Azula's heart leapt. It had been very dull the past few months, since that last uprising to the east; she had been beginning to think Father was angry with her. "I have received word from the colonies, rumors—it seems your brother has been causing trouble."

Azula suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She had thought Zuko could surely sink no lower. "Has he ever done anything else?"

"Your uncle is still with him, too—unfortunate, but it seems Iroh will not veer from the path he has chosen." For a moment, Father's frustration was audible—and it should be, Azula thought, considering how often his family had failed him. She alone had not; and would not, no matter what he asked of her. "Tell me, Azula," he said. "Would you hesitate to kill them?"

She blinked, staring at the dark shape of Father behind the flames, and then laughed. "You already know the answer to that question," she said, grinning.

"I do," Father admitted, and his tone was rich with satisfaction. "You will go to the colonies, and track them down. Take a few battalions with you—as many as you need."

He was feeling flexible—in a mood to listen. "Perhaps battalions are not the answer, Father," Azula said, "if you want it to be done quickly."

"You would fail, with battalions?" Father said.

Azula considered her words carefully. "I would succeed less excellently."

There was a long still moment; and then Father laughed. "Very well. I suppose you have a plan of your own, then?"

"A team—small, fast, and highly skilled," Azula said. "And I know exactly where to find the people for it."

"Perfect," Yue said, and grinned.

Katara let her shoulders drop, and smiled, sending the water curling back into her bending pouch. "Really? Because I felt like maybe—"

"Duck," Yue interrupted, already dropping down herself, and Katara slid to her knees on the ice a second before an icicle the size of her arm flew over her head and splintered against the far wall.

"... I didn't mean for that to happen," Miktakit said, sheepish, arms still extended.

Katara and Yue had practiced alone for only two more days, after the battle. The third day, when they had climbed up to the room in the morning, Kilurak had been waiting for them, and two girls had been beside him, both looking a little nervous.

Yue had put them at ease in minutes; and now, almost two weeks after the battle, they had been joined by five more girls, and three of their mothers. Katara might have worried about losing her teacher, but she could feel herself improving steadily; maybe being the ocean actually had helped a little. Now she mostly needed repetition, to give herself a chance to feel out how energy would follow the contours of a move—not something Yue really needed to watch her do, although she still corrected Katara's posture sometimes.

So Yue was free to help the others, more often than not. "Impressive speed," she told Miktakit, laughing, and then touched Katara's shoulder. "Maybe run through the sequence a few more times—the better you know it, the more confident you will feel." She clapped her hands together. "Now, Miktakit: show me what you did again, but not so fast this time."

Katara might have been improving, but it was still tiring work; and she tumbled into sleep almost the moment she lay down on her mat.

It had been that way for days, rambling thoughts sliding into darkness almost immediately, so she was startled for a second when she ended up in a faint grey fog this time.

"Oh, one of these again," Aang said beside her, and they shared a grin while they waited for the fog to clear a little.

It took longer than it had that first time, mist eddying uncertainly like it wasn't sure quite where to go. But at last Katara caught a dark shape, something other than gray—dark red, she thought, as it came nearer. Roku.

"Indeed, Avatar," Roku said, and smiled faintly; but the expression looked pinched and strained.

"Is there something wrong?" Katara said.

"It is—not easy for me to be here," Roku said. "When we first came to you, you had been in the Avatar State only hours before; you were—close to us, as such things are reckoned in the spirit world. The temple was Aang's home, when he came to you, and he travels with you now. But the far north gives me no strength; it is a wonder I have found you at all." He paused a moment, looking grave. "There are things you must know, if you are to bring balance to what is. There will not be time, here; but if you come to me at midwinter, when it would be the solstice here, we may speak freely of what is to come."

"Come to you?" Katara said, and glanced at Aang; he shrugged, looking just as baffled as she felt. "How?"

Roku lifted his hands, catching a little mist between them and cupping it in his fingers for a moment. He closed his eyes, concentrating; and between his palms it formed a shape. A picture—a coastline, rocky and uneven at the shore, and beyond it stood a vast tower, red-walled and imposing. "A Fire Nation Avatar temple," he said. "There are quite a few; this one stands in the south of the colonies, on the shores of the kingdom of Lannang. There are sages there who will help you. I will be there on the solstice, at sunset. Will you also, Avatar?"

Katara tried to memorize the look of the wavering mist-picture, and hoped their colony map would have the place marked. "I will," she said; and then Roku faded back like ink in water, and Katara dreamed of chasing penguin seals until the sun came up.

She remembered everything when she woke as clearly as if Roku had been standing in front of her, the same way she remembered the first one; and she rolled on her side to find Sokka staring at her from the next mat over, eyes narrowed, and Suki already sitting up, watching her with eyebrows raised.

"What?" she said.

"You're about to tell us something wacky," Sokka predicted.

Katara sighed and sat up, rubbing her face. "How'd you know?"

"You've got that look," he said. "That Avatar-level weirdness look. Like you're trying to figure out how you're going to make whatever you say next sound normal."

"You kind of do," Aang said, hovering over Sokka's head and eyeing her critically. "Something about the eyebrows."

Katara stuck her tongue out at him.

"The dead guy totally agreed with me, didn't he?" Sokka said.

"I couldn't say," Katara told him, prim, and then gave in. "I had another dream—but I think Yue's going to need to hear this one, too."

It was a beautiful morning, sunlight glimmering gold over the ice and making the wall shine. The sun was barely a finger's width from the sea; soon, Yue thought, it wouldn't rise at all, not for weeks. She would have sat down to watch it, but sprawling over the palace steps like a child seemed a little undignified. So she was standing at the top of the stairs, looking out over the city, when Katara cleared her throat and touched Yue's arm.

"I'm sorry," Yue said, smiling even before she turned around, "I should be upstairs already, I just—" and then she caught sight of Katara's solemn expression, and went quiet.

"It's not that," Katara said. "There's something I need to tell you."

Katara explained the dream she had had, and Yue could not have timed it better: almost the moment she finished, Mother and Father came down the hall.

"I know I'm not quite a master yet," Katara was saying, "but I'm getting close, and he was so specific—I have to be there by the solstice, there's no way around it. I—I could come back—"

"Why should you?" Yue said. "We are safe, here; there will not be another fleet, not so soon after the last. The Earth Kingdoms bear the brunt of the war—and you would have to go soon anyway, to find someone to teach you Earthbending."

Katara looked uncertain. "I suppose that's true," she said slowly.

"Exactly—it would be foolish. No," Yue said, "it's best this way." She smiled. "I will go with you." Just loud enough: Mother and Father had paused in the corridor to speak to someone, but Yue saw Mother's head turn.

Katara blinked. "You'll go with us?"

"Go where?" Mother said, stopping a few feet behind Katara.

"The Earth Kingdoms," Yue said. "The Avatar has had a dream, Mother; she must go there. I agreed to teach her everything—I didn't say she had to stay in Kanjusuk to learn it."

Mother and Father exchanged a sober look, and Yue braced herself for an argument; but Father only sighed. "I said you were an adult," he said, "and it was the truth. I cannot keep you here when your duty takes you elsewhere."

She wasn't so adult that she wouldn't throw her arms around his neck and whisper, "Thank you," in his ear. And he squeezed her very tight; but when it was done, he let her go.

It would be another day or two before the Avatar left with Yue—preparations had to be made, and, of course, there would be a farewell feast. Neither the Avatar nor the chief's daughter could expect to leave without one, and certainly not when they were traveling together.

It worried Ukalah; of course it did. The thought of her daughter wandering the south in the middle of the war, alongside the one person the Fire Nation wanted more than any other, made her feel like she needed to sit still and breathe quietly for a very long time.

But she was the chief's wife—she could not sit still for five minutes, let alone a very long time. And it pleased her, too: her daughter was the Avatar's teacher, and had as good as bested Master Pakku.

Ukalah grinned over the bowls she was laying out, thinking of the look on Master Pakku's face when he had heard the news. He had been caught somewhere between a frown and a smile, clearly annoyed that Yue would continue to undertake so prestigious a task where the rest of the world could see her, and yet, Ukalah suspected, glad that she would be gone. Probably, he hoped she would take her ideas with her, and he would no longer have to watch women defile the noble bending arts in their spare time.

Ukalah chuckled.

"The dishware entertains you immensely today," Yugoda said wryly, spreading out another mat. There would be a healing class, soon; the mats were for the girls to kneel on, and the bowls to hold their bending water.

Ukalah laughed, setting down another bowl. "Not the dishware," she said, "just—life."

"Just life, hmm?" Yugoda said, and then turned at a sudden blast of cold air; the tent flap had opened.

It was Kilurak—Miktakit's brother, a pleasant boy. He had volunteered to help with the assassination, during the battle; and he had been in the Spirit Oasis when Katara had saved them all. He was biting his lip, cheeks faintly flushed, but he was standing up straight.

"Does someone need me?" Yugoda said.

"No," he said, "no, I just—"

Yugoda sat back on her heels, and smiled. "You want to stay for the class," she guessed.

"Yes," he admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Miktakit and I, we've shown each other some things, but she's got Yue. I mean, not that Yue couldn't teach me," he added quickly, "I know she was your student; but she has to teach the Avatar how to fight, not how to heal."

"Pick a seat," Yugoda said. "But not right there—Nimikah always takes the next seat, and she splashes a lot."

"Thank you," Kilurak said, relieved and grinning, and caught the bowl Ukalah tossed to him.

Katara was still full the morning they left, hours after the evening feast; the tiger seals might be smaller in the north, but they apparently had polar leopards—huge ones.

They'd picked a good day: the sea was calm, and the sun would probably make it above the horizon by noon. Chief Arnook had prepared a boat for them, larger and deeper than the usual flat-bellied skiffs, and an embarrassing crowd gathered to see them off.

Chief Arnook and his wife were at the front, of course, and before they boarded they were each given a gift.

"For you," Arnook said to Suki, and motioned behind him; Hahn came forward, and, startlingly, there was only a little resentment on his face.

"I made them myself," he said, and drew a pair of bone knives from his belt, one with each hand. "I know you've got those fans, but—well. You beat me. You should have them."

Suki was more gracious than Katara might have been. "They look very sharp," she said, and took them when he turned the hilts toward her. "I'll take good care of them."

"Well," Hahn said, awkward. "Good." He and Yue looked at each other for a long moment, but he said nothing.

Sokka was next: Tuteguk came forward to give him a sword, taken from a Fire Nation soldier and modified. "I think it will serve you well," he said, "for you pursue nobler aims than its former master."

Arnook had a pike with him; many Northern men carried theirs on a regular basis, and Katara had thought nothing of it until he turned it and swung it toward Yue. From the haft, near the blade, swung a small medallion, very like the ornaments Yue wore in her hair. "For you, my daughter," he said. "I know you are not trained in its use; but you are a warrior of the Northern Tribe, and you should have a pike of your own."

She took it from him carefully, and she might not have known how to attack anybody with it, but she clearly knew how to hold it. "Thank you, Father," she said quietly, and lifted it up until she could lean it against her shoulder, hand balancing against the weight of the blade.

"And for the Avatar," said Ukalah, and held out a small container—a jar, almost, except that it came to a point at the bottom, and the handle of the stopper was carved into the shape of a crescent moon. "Sacred water, from the Spirit Oasis. It is touched with great power, should you have need."

"Thank you," Katara said, and took it. There was a thin cord for it to hang by, and she climbed into the boat and tied it carefully to one strap of her pack, near the top; she didn't want to risk accidentally setting everything she was carrying on something so precious.

Like someone stepping onto the boat had been some kind of cue, everyone else moved for it at the same time. Katara moved up into the bow, to leave more space, and Yue lingered a moment to give her mother one last hug; so they were at opposite ends when everything was settled. It was like they'd planned it: they looked at each other and lifted their arms at the same time to move the water beneath them, and the boat skimmed away toward the wall and the open sea beyond.

Their days on the water started out short and dim—the second day out from Kanjusuk, the sun barely peeked over the horizon. But that changed more and more, the further south they got; and even though it was nearing midwinter, by the time they began to round Gungduan it felt like spring to Suki, just because the days were so much longer.

There was enough space in the boat for Yue to practice with her pike, as long as the rest of them stayed out of the way. She handled it both inexpertly and confidently; she'd seen pikes used so often that she did know what to do with it, but her hands and arms weren't used to actually doing it. By the end of the first week, the deck was pitted with scratches where the blade had struck when Yue lost her grip.

"It was such a thoughtful gift," she told Suki once, rubbing a cramp out of her hand and eyeing the pike dolefully. "And it is such a fine blade—I should never have been allowed to touch it."

"Oh, stop," Suki said, and caught Yue's palm, tipping it until she could dig her own thumb into the stubborn knot of muscle. "It was meant to be used. You heard your father; he wasn't expecting you to take it just so you could tuck it away somewhere where it would never get a scratch on it."

"Yeah," Sokka chimed in. "He said you were a warrior and he gave you a weapon. He was practically asking you to learn to beat things up. I mean, maybe he didn't have the deck of the boat in mind, but—"

"You're helping less than you think you are," Suki said, and swatted him on the arm with her free hand.

Sokka had a little less trouble with the sword, because he'd used clubs and spears and fans before. Not that they were the same thing, of course, but he had a pretty good idea how to hold the sword, and how to lunge and slice and stab. Sometimes he did do the wrong things with his wrists; "I keep expecting it to open," he said mournfully.

And, of course, Katara was still practicing her bending with Yue. When Yue was worn out from swinging her pike, she'd sit in the bow, and Katara would stand amidships and run through sequences with a globe of seawater. There were still some mishaps occasionally—the day she first tried something that Yue called "octopus form", they all got completely soaked. But the days she took the Waterbending scroll out, she looked at it like a well-learned favorite book, not something so far beyond her that she was running to catch up.

They came down through the strait between the northern islands of the Air Nomads and the shores of Gungsao Kingdom, and followed the curve of the kingdom's coast south. As close to Fire Nation waters as they were, it seemed best to stick close, and the mountains of Gungsao were a constant low line on the eastern horizon.

They had packed lightly—there had not been much time to prepare, with the hurry they were in. But the skies were clear, and the distance went quickly with two Waterbenders on board; when they were halfway there, Katara decided they could stop to round out their supplies without setting themselves back too far.

At the tip of the peninsula, before the coast curved north again, their maps marked a city called Changmei. Katara's map had a vague blotch without a name, and their Fire Nation map had a sullen brown mark and a vaguely resentful label: "北區的首都", and only below that, in tiny characters, "昌梅" (1). According to the map legend, the brown color meant the city had changed hands several times.

"Well, no wonder," Sokka said, "look at it, it's like two inches away from the Fire Nation."

"You do realize it's not two actual inches," Katara said, very dry; but she was frowning faintly as she looked down at it.

"It's only been two months since we bought this," Suki said. "I'm sure it hasn't been captured again already."

It hadn't, as it turned out; but not for lack of trying. There was a wall around the city harbor, with a line of Earthbenders stationed along the top, and the rock was scorched black in huge swathes where Fire Nation catapults had struck it.

There were towers built into the wall, evenly spaced along its length—and shafts that extended into the wall below them, which they realized when a rectangular section of one suddenly swung out with a thunk.

There was a man standing inside, on top of a short pillar of rock. He had obviously used it to lower himself down the shaft; the same way Katara had used that tower of ice to lift them all up to the prison ship in Lingsao, but in reverse. "Who are you?" he snapped. "Why do you seek to enter Changmei?"

Katara and Yue both looked a little taken aback, and Sokka was starting to scowl; so Suki took it upon herself to say, "The Avatar, and her traveling companions."

"The Avatar?" the man said, and laughed, sharp and unamused. "Mm, yes, like an epic tale from legend: the Avatar will come with three children, in a little wooden boat."

At that, Yue took a step forward, chin high. "Whether you believe us or not," she said, "we are clearly travelers, not a Fire Nation battleship. If we cannot resupply here, then at least tell us another nearby port."

The man glared at her; but Yue stared back, unbending, and finally he shook his head. "Very well," he said. "If one of you is the Avatar, General Fong would not deal kindly with me for sending you away. I will send the orders back; when you dock, they will take you to the citadel."

He held out a fist, and then pulled it sharply toward himself, and the wall closed over him again. There was a rumble of shifting rock that seemed to go on forever, and then a tiny figure appeared atop the wall; and a moment later, the stone in front of them parted, leaving a tunnel through the wall just wide enough for their boat to pass through.

"The Avatar?" General Fong said, leaning forward. "Are you sure?"

They glanced at one another. "... Fairly, yeah," Sokka said. "Um, not to be rude, but if you're a general—"

"—what am I doing on the throne," General Fong filled in, and smiled.

It wasn't an especially reassuring smile; in fact, it kind of gave Sokka the creeps. General Fong as a whole kind of gave Sokka the creeps.

The citadel was nice—imposing, maybe even a little intimidating, but that was the whole point. Shiny stone floors, immense iron-shuttered windows, delicate screens covered in paintings of people dying horribly: what was there not to like? General Fong had greeted them very politely, and hadn't tried to kill them yet, which put him head and shoulders above a lot of the people Sokka and Katara had met on this trip.

But the second somebody had said the word "Avatar", something indefinable about his expression had turned strange and focused. It was the kind of look Sokka would expect hunting tiger seals to wear, if hunting tiger seals had looks.

In conclusion: creepy.

"You must understand," General Fong said, "our position is very delicate. We had no hand in the declaration of this war, but the Fire Nation stands at our doorstep; while Ba Chang sits undisturbed, the walls of Ba Sing Se unbreached, we hear the echoes of war drums in our sleep." He glanced at Katara, and then at Sokka; they were both wearing their Water Tribe clothes, had been ever since they had reached Kanjusuk. "While our neighbors to the east have been fortunate enough to receive some aid—"

Sokka swallowed. We fought the Fire Nation away from the walls of Shengtian, Bato had said; but Sokka couldn't remember any mention of Changmei.

"—we have not been so lucky." General Fong spread his hands, as though he really thought it was simply a whim of the universe; but his eyes were lingering on the beads in Katara's hair, the Water Tribe insignia on Yue's medallions. "We stand on the edge of a knife," he said. "This city has been lost to the Fire Nation many times; each time, we have won it back, but it has cost more effort, more lives, more pain. The last time, our king and queen were both lost in battle."

"So you generously took over," Sokka said. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but judging by Suki's glare, he'd let a little skepticism sneak in.

General Fong didn't seem to notice, though; he only smiled again. "No, no—our illustrious rulers were lucky enough to bear a daughter. I merely serve as humble regent for Queen Yuanlin, until she should take the throne herself. The law of Gungsao precluded it until four months ago, when she turned eighteen; she has generously allowed me to temporarily retain the position."

"Despite your strong encouragement to the contrary, I'm sure," Sokka said.

General Fong inclined his head. "Indeed," he said. "But, of course, it is my pleasure to allow the queen as much time as she feels necessary to ready herself for the responsibility." He clapped his hands together. "But enough business. You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish; the palace and grounds are yours to explore. I hope you will find Changmei a pleasant place."

Zuko leaned on the rail, and stared out over the water.

He'd been doing that a lot, recently; there weren't many places to go on a ship this size where you could just stand and think, and he had had his fill of belowdecks on the way up.

"Ah, the spirit of the late prince has risen once again to haunt our decks," Mizan said loudly from beside the bridge.

Zuko gritted his teeth. Mizan was enjoying his extended death a little too much.

"I will attempt to avert its supernatural vengeance," Uncle told her gravely, and Zuko made himself keep looking at the ocean instead of glaring when Uncle came up to the rail beside him. "You have been very quiet, Prince Zuko. Although I suppose that is not exceptional behavior in a dead man."

"I could have been," Zuko said after a moment. "That girl, with the white hair; she could have killed me. The Avatar could have killed me, when she was merged with that spirit."

"But they did not," Uncle Iroh said, gently.

Zuko shook his head. "I don't understand. I don't understand them—I don't understand myself. Zhao was right: victory was before him. It would have been a great triumph for the Fire Nation." For Father, he did not say. "But when that woman killed him—when the Avatar saved that other spirit—I felt—" He shook his head again, half-hoping it would knock the rest of the thought from his mind, but the last word spilled out anyway. "Glad." What does that make me?

"You did not like Sub-Admiral Zhao, and he gave you reason," Uncle said. "He was a ruthless man, and a cruel one. Is it so incomprehensible that you should prefer his death to the death of the moon, or to the death of the Avatar and her companions, who have never hurt you?"

"They seek to turn the tide of war against the Fire Nation—to destroy what our family has spent a century trying to build. They are hurting us all." It was true, Zuko knew it; it had been a cornerstone of all his lessons as a child, something every tutor, every book, had reiterated. The Earth Kingdoms and Water Tribes harmed everyone through their resistance—the Air Nomads had destroyed themselves the same way. But somehow the words had still wavered on their way out of his mouth. This, he thought, was the weakness in him that Father had seen so clearly. No wonder Father had chosen to get rid of him.

"Of course," Uncle said, very flat; there was a moment of silence, and then Uncle sighed. "What will you do, then, when we reach Port Tsao and you are returned to life?"

Zuko looked down at his hands, tight on the rail. "I don't know."

Yuanlin swung the pike around and then paused, weapon still extended, and let herself grin. The last two times she'd tried that swing, she'd accidentally thumped herself in the ribs, but this time she had managed to keep the haft close against her arm where it was supposed to be.

She turned to look at the target, resting the pike on her shoulder for a moment. It wasn't her pike; it was a practice weapon, the dull wooden blade coated in red dust, and she'd left a thin sweeping line of scarlet on the target, like the first stroke of a piece of calligraphy. It was pleasant to see. This, at least, she could be sure she was good at.

"Wonderful," someone said gently behind her, and she turned.

It was the Water Tribe girl, the one who was not the Avatar. She had introduced herself as Yue—not to Yuanlin personally, but General Fong had sent a servant to her to relay the news of their guests' arrival. According to General Fong, Yue was the crown princess of the far north, as those people reckoned such things. Looking at her, Yuanlin could believe it: she stood with a quiet, thoughtful sort of confidence. Yuanlin tried to quash her envy.

"I did not mean to interrupt," Yue said, sheepish. "I was only looking around; and then I saw you practicing. I have a pike myself, but." She made a face. "I'm not very good at using it. If it is not too great an imposition, could you do that again, a little more slowly?"

"Of course," Yuanlin said, bowing, and moved the pike back to starting position. She would never have done it any other time, but there was no one here watching her except the girl. "See, you must hold it like this, and keep your thumb here. You will need to control the haft as you swing. If your grip is not good, you may hit the target, but you will also hit yourself."

"You speak from experience?"

Yuanlin grimaced, and let go of the pike with one hand so she could touch her ribs gently. "Very recent experience," she said.

Yue laughed.

"I am not a true expert," Yuanlin admitted. "I have been trained a little; enough to practice, and enough to tell when I am getting better." She let the pike slide back through her hand until the end of the haft rested on the ground. "And when I make mistakes here, I hurt only myself."

She glanced up; she had not meant to be so maudlin, and she intended to apologize, but Yue was smiling at her softly. "You sound like Katara," she said.

Yuanlin blinked, too startled to be polite. "The Avatar?"

Yue nodded. "She worries about everything. I've only known her for a little while, but her brother and her friend have told me. She worries all the time that she'll do the wrong thing."

"It doesn't seem possible." Yuanlin shook her head—not to deny, only to clear it. "She is the Avatar."

"You are the queen," Yue said.

Yuanlin flushed, and lowered her eyes, suddenly awkward. She wished the pike were not in her hand; she could not fold her hands into her sleeves, could not hide behind a proper posture. "General Fong—"

Yue took a quick step forward; when Yuanlin looked up again, her gaze was searching Yuanlin's face, her forehead creased with a tiny frown. "You are the queen," she repeated.

Yuanlin took a breath and cleared her face; she should not have begun such a conversation with a guest. She would never be able to explain properly. Better to consider the matter closed.

But she was too late. "You're very like Katara," Yue said. "Except you have a choice. You can give away your responsibility—but you will be giving it away to General Fong, and surely you must be able to see how his bitterness drives him."

"It drives him to do what is best for the kingdom," Yuanlin tried.

"It drives him to do what he thinks will assuage his anger," Yue said. "You are the queen; but the reason you will be a good queen is not because you were born a crown princess. You'll be a good queen for the same reason Katara will be a good Avatar: because you worry. Because it's so important to you that you not fail to do what is right."

Yuanlin looked at the red-streaked target. "I'm not ready," she confessed; the words were loud in the sudden stillness, and she felt herself flush again. She had never been ready, and ever since her birthday, she had been waiting for someone to point it out—to realize she was not kind enough, not clever enough, not strong enough to rule.

Yue's hand was very gentle on her shoulder. "Katara wasn't either, when she started," Yue said. "She still isn't, sometimes."

Yuanlin looked at her. It seemed so unlikely. Surely the Avatar, of all people, did not doubt her own ability. "General Fong has commanded many armies—it was he who took back this city. Who am I to say I could rule better?"

Yue paused, and then bowed a little. "If I may make a suggestion: I think perhaps you should talk to Katara."

General Fong did not precisely hold a feast for them; but there was excellent and abundant food for supper, and they were seated at the high table, right next to Queen Yuanlin. Well, except for Aang—he was hovering in the middle of the table, occasionally dipping his hands through the edges of people's plates.

The general had been telling the truth about the queen: she was only a little older than they were. Her bearing was formal and composed, but there were small hints of trepidation in her face, and she kept her mouth closed even when she smiled.

General Fong was the exact reverse, laughing and talking boisterously. Katara was almost glad she was sitting on the far side of the table from him; he kept slapping the green-robed advisor next to him on the back, and it looked like it must have hurt.

Yuanlin kept darting glances at him, often enough that Katara couldn't help noticing. She was waiting for something, it looked like—and, sure enough, when General Fong leaned forward and away to listen more closely to the man two seats away, Yuanlin set her chopsticks down and spoke. "I hope you are enjoying your stay," she said.

"Oh, yes," Katara said, "it's beautiful."

Yuanlin smiled. "Yes. I think sometimes I can't even tell anymore—it's my home, it has always looked beautiful to me."

Katara snagged another dumpling; they were really excellent. "I'm sure you'll rule it well."

Yuanlin wavered, looking down at her bowl; when she looked back up, the corners of her mouth were still tilted up, but it wasn't a smile anymore, not really. "I—hope so. My mother was a great woman; my parents were both well-loved. I know I will never be able to replace them."

"No, of course not," Katara said quickly. "No one could, I didn't mean—"

Yuanlin stared at her, eyes widening, and then suddenly giggled. "Yue really was serious, wasn't she?" she said.

"Yue?" Katara glanced down the table—Yue was two seats away, past Sokka and Suki. "What did she say about me?"

"That you worried," Yuanlin said. "That you—made mistakes sometimes."

Katara grimaced. "More often than sometimes, I think," she said, poking her dumpling. Her appetite was suddenly less than whetted. "I haven't even been the Avatar for six months, and I've already lied to people and stolen things and—" Say it. Aang was gazing at her, sympathetic, from the middle of a serving platter. "—gotten people killed."

Yuanlin was watching her, eyes gentle, any trace of a smile completely gone. "How do you do it?" she asked quietly.

Katara stared down at the dumpling, biting her lip, and then made herself look up again. "I have to," she said. "There's no one else who can."

"Hey, seriously," Sokka interrupted, elbowing her, "you have got to try one of these things," and by the time Katara had taken one of the rolls he'd proffered and turned back around, General Fong was back in his seat, smiling at her; and Yuanlin was silently sipping her tea, eyes down.

Katara went looking for Yuanlin again the next day; but when she reached the entrance hall, General Fong was there instead. "Ah, Avatar," he said, "just the person I was hoping to see."

"Just the person we were hoping not to see," Aang muttered over Katara's shoulder, and Katara had to bite her lip for a moment to keep from smiling.

"General," she said, instead of looking at him or answering; if there were one person in the world whom she didn't want to know about Aang, it was General Fong. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I hope so," he said. "Tell me, Avatar: how did you find out who you were?"

"I did things I shouldn't have been able to do," Katara said, trying to stay vague. "Being the Avatar is a piece of who I am; and sometimes that piece—"

"—overwhelms," General Fong filled in, eyes alight. "I have seen records of such things—the Avatar State, they call it? Such devastating power, at your very fingertips."

Katara shifted uneasily. "I can't control it," she said, "not yet; I haven't even mastered Waterbending."

"Control?" General Fong laughed. "What is there to control? You have gone into it already, have you not? More than once, by the sound of it."

Katara swallowed; for a moment, there was a rougher cut of stone beneath her feet, and blood seeped into a woman's hair.

"Katara," Aang said hurriedly. "Katara, he can't make you do anything."

It was hard to keep herself from looking at him, but she managed to force her eyes to stay on General Fong, who was gazing back at her intently. "I understand, Avatar," he said. "You bear a grave responsibility; every day you leave the Fire Lord alive is a day when lives are lost that you might have saved. If you were only older, more skilled, more able, so many things would be different. Perhaps your people would not have had to leave to save our neighbor to the east." Perhaps they would not have passed us by—he didn't say it, but the words might as well have been inked on his face. "Perhaps the queen's parents would still be alive."

"No one can blame you for that," Aang cried, swinging around until he was in front of General Fong, Fong's beard just visible through the blue glow of his head. "You told me so; and I told you, and now I'm telling you again. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

It wouldn't look strange to General Fong now, so Katara let herself look at Aang. She couldn't say anything with Fong right there, couldn't explain: she knew he was right, but General Fong had mixed blame with truth. If he really could find a way for her to reach the Avatar State whenever she chose, she could end a century of war in days, instead of months or years. That was her responsibility; she couldn't walk away from a chance like that. "What do you propose?" she said.

"Are you insane?" Sokka said. "Please tell me that the dead guy hates this plan as much as I do."

"Oh, I do," Aang snapped.

Katara sighed. "He does," she relayed grudgingly when Aang glared at her. "Look, this is the whole reason we left home. I need to master the elements so that I can use the full power of the Avatar—but what if there's a shortcut?"

"You're talking like Master Pakku," Suki said. "The Avatar's not some separate outside thing you need to get in touch with; you are the Avatar. You already have all the power you need—mastering the elements is how you learn to use it."

Katara forced herself to take a deep breath instead of snapping. "Look, all he's going to do is have some of the palace guards attack me. If nothing happens, then nothing happens. Don't you think it's at least worth a try?"

"Oh, so he's just going to have some trained soldiers hurl giant rocks at your head?" Sokka said. "Never mind, that's totally reasonable."

Katara rolled her eyes. "It'll be in the courtyard," she said, "there's a giant fountain. I'll be fine. He gave me his word; nothing but the soldiers, and only as many attacks at once as I say."

"Well, if you won't change your mind, then I guess we're going, too," Suki said.

Yue nodded. "We're not going to let you do something this stupid alone."

"I still think this is incredibly stupid," Sokka muttered.

"Would you like to tell her again?" Suki said. "Maybe the fifth time, it'll work."

Sokka glowered at her; but he didn't really mean it. He wasn't angry—or, he was, but not at Suki. For once, they hadn't actually been in any danger, so of course the best use Katara could find for her time was to have herself systematically attacked by Earthbenders. Why not.

Another of the palace guards punched a giant stone disk at Katara—a stone coin, General Fong had called it, which made it sound prettier than calling it a "giant stone disk with a big square hole in it". Each of the guards had a stack of the things, and they were taking turns hefting them at Katara, who was deflecting them away with gouts of water from the courtyard fountain.

It was incredibly stupid—and a waste of time, too. They'd been doing it for almost ten minutes, and Katara hadn't even floated once, let alone started glowing.

Underneath the sound of water striking rock, there was a shuffly sort of patter; footsteps, Sokka realized, and turned. It was the queen, and she was staring out over the courtyard with a horrified look on her face.

"No need for concern!" General Fong said loudly, before Yuanlin could say anything. "We have the Avatar's permission—we are endeavoring to provoke a greater expression of her power, in the hope that it may be controlled." He watched another two stone coins fly at Katara, another two loops of water flinging them away, and frowned, very slightly; and Sokka felt the faintest little twinge of unease. "We have met no success yet," the general continued, looking back up at Yuanlin; "but then we have not tried everything. Perhaps it is time for a change in strategy."

He said it strangely, with a grating emphasis on the last three words like they meant something special—like a signal, Sokka thought, a second before a guard's armored fist came down on his shoulder. "Hey—"

"Now," General Fong shouted, and another guard came up to Sokka's elbow and shoved him into the courtyard stones.

Literally: he sank under their hands, rock creeping up his legs. The moment he realized it, he sucked in as deep a breath as he could, and when they had forced him into the stone up to his ribs, he could still breathe.

His fans and his sword were both at his waist, locked in rock; so he grabbed at the first guard's shin with his hands, trying to pull the guy off balance. He could hear Suki yelling behind him, and the thump of somebody in armor hitting the ground. Yue had been at the top of the stairs; another Earthbender had grabbed her. She had her pike, and she slammed the haft into his chest so hard that he tumbled backward down the steps; but she was sunk into the rock up to her waist, there was only so much she could do.

Sokka slammed his fist repeatedly into the side of the guy's kneecap, and the third time, something popped, sending the guy stumbling away with a curse. But the guard at his elbow was still there, and he dug a hand into Sokka's hair and pushed him another foot down.

And then he let go, because he needed both hands to shield his face from the grit in the air. The wind, Sokka realized, and twisted his head around as far as it would go.

Sure enough, Katara had lost it. Her eyes were blazing blue, water from the courtyard fountain curling around her, and when she lifted her hands, the stone coins that had struck the ground near her all rose into the air at once.

"Not good," Sokka muttered. It was possible he wouldn't mind if one of those things landed on Fong; but Queen Yuanlin was standing only a little way away, and Yue was trapped in the rock right next to her. If Katara killed one of them by mistake, she was never ever going to forgive herself. "Hey, Aang," he shouted into the wind. "Now would be a great time to become corporeal, buddy!"

Zuko leaned against the port-side wall of the bridge. Another full day, which meant they were perhaps a week out from Port Tsao, and he still hadn't decided what to do. He should have known better, he thought grumpily. Talking to Uncle never made anything clearer.

Certainly, it was true that the Avatar had not hurt him personally—granted, her repeated escape from his grasp meant that he could not go home, but that was not her intention.

And if he had captured her earlier, the moon might now be dead. The moon—and the ocean, too. Had Zhao ever said he planned to kill only one? Zuko had never been to the spirit world, not like Uncle, and it was Father's aim to bring balance to all things, to make the world one under his rule. But that dim red moon, that girl screaming behind the bamboo ... Zuko forced himself not to shudder. Perhaps Uncle had been right: that was not the way it should be done.

His place in his father's hall was worth the Avatar; Father had made it so. But would it have been worth the moon? If Zuko had captured her before she was able to heal it, had been restored to his position—was it possible that it would have done more harm than good?

Zuko gritted his teeth and shoved himself away from the wall. These were pointless thoughts, it had not happened that way—

"Sir!" Mizan shouted, and Zuko turned. Even before she could say anything else, he followed the line of her arm: they were passing the southern reaches of the kingdom of Gungsao, close enough to the shore to see the walls of the capital—and the fierce blue-white light that shone behind them.

The Avatar had come south again—within his reach, when he had thought all was lost.

Mizan had jogged closer along the deck, and stopped an armslength away. "I'd strongly advise against chasing her now, sir," she said. "We could use quite a few repairs, and I doubt you'll convince Sub-Admiral Yin that this is a good time to launch an assault on an Earth Kingdom."

"Of course," Zuko said, "of course," and let himself smile. Uncle had been right: unlike Zhao, they would have another chance.

The round-cut stones did as she wished; she lifted three and sent them spinning one by one at the soldiers to the side, easy as skipping rocks across a pond.

Another soldier threw a chunk of the broken wall at her, desperate; she caught it and whipped it back at him, and he threw himself to the ground a moment before it struck the courtyard just behind him, shards of stone flying everywhere. She pulled the air beside her into a tight sheet of breeze, and the shrapnel was swept away and did not touch her.

Half a dozen men were trying to flee behind her; she turned in the air and sent flame whirling toward them, and the grass beyond the courtyard gate went up in a blaze of yellow.

Nearly all of them were yelling—the soldiers, the children trapped in the stone, everyone—but she could hear it only faintly over the howling wind. Insignificant, she decided.

The hand on her shoulder, though, was significant. A faint touch, perhaps, but discernably there.

She was not looking with her eyes, so she did not turn; but she pushed the wind away, drew the air near her to a standstill, and her braid thumped down over her shoulders. A hand on her shoulder, her braid on her shoulder—she had shoulders. Somehow she had forgotten that.

"Come back," someone said—she heard it, even though the still air did not move. "Please, Katara, please, you have to come back. Everything will be fine, I promise; you just have to come back."

Katara. That meant something, but she had forgotten that, too. She was herself and not herself, larger somehow than the body the shoulders belonged to; she would have to give that up in order to remember. But, she suspected, she could always get it back.

She closed her eyes, and became small again.

"It worked! Katara? Katara! Are you okay?"

Katara opened her eyes. She was standing, which was great, but she knew that because she was looking down at her feet, which she hadn't really been meaning to do. Her head wobbled on the way up, but it made it; and she was greeted by Aang's enormous nervous eyes.

"Was that you?" she said shakily. "How did you do that?"

Aang spread his translucent hands. "I think maybe you're a little bit spirit when you do that?" he said. "I don't really know. But it worked! I mean, it worked, right?"

"It worked," Katara said.

Somebody was shouting, but the words weren't really coming through. Katara shook her head, in case it would help, and managed to make herself massively dizzy; but before she could fall over entirely, there was a shoulder propping her up and an arm around her back.

"Very impressive," Suki said. "Let's never do that again, okay?"

"Okay," Katara said.

"Get her out of there," Yuanlin snapped at the nearest cowering guard, and she took the pike from Yue's hands and swung it around until she could lay the blade—not lightly—on General Fong's shoulder.

She had been in the practice arena again, but her strikes had all been halfhearted; she had been thinking over what Katara had told her all night. She could not say, as Katara could, that she was the only one who could do what was needed—but she wanted to try, more than she ever had before. Perhaps she would fail, but she could not know if she never took the throne. She had been intending to find General Fong and tell him these things; and then she had come to the courtyard and seen the Avatar and her friends attacked.

And now she had been possessed, she thought distantly. Taken by a spirit; struck on the head by a loose piece of stone. Whatever the cause, words were spilling from her mouth that she had never thought she would have the courage to say.

"The Avatar is not a weapon. That you should think to use her as such tells me you have more in common with the Fire Lord than I had ever suspected."

General Fong had turned angrily at the touch on his shoulder; but he faltered now, with an expression on his face like he had just been punched. "Your Highness—"

"Your Majesty, I think," Yuanlin said, and it came out so cold and commanding she could hardly believe she was listening to herself. "It is time I claimed the throne that is mine." Her mother had said something to her once, when she had been a child: to speak your mind is a dangerous thing, she had said, and laughed. And it was—Yuanlin felt as though she might never stop. Her heart was thundering in her chest; she had never spoken to anyone so boldly in her life. How did anyone ever go back to diplomatic politeness after this?

"Your Majesty, do not be foolish. We have been abandoned; her people are one among many who have left us to fight a hundred-year war alone. It is as much as she owes us—"

"She owes us nothing," Yuanlin said. "Unless you propose that we blame her for the way the land and sea are arranged, the cause of our troubles has nothing to do with her." Beside her, the soldier had obediently pulled Yue free, and she was standing at Yuanlin's shoulder. "Sometimes others help to save us," she said, half to Yue; "and sometimes we must save ourselves."

General Fong's expression had closed further and further as she spoke, and now he laughed, ugly and sharp. "Oh? And what will you do, Your very young Majesty, when the Fire Nation comes to take this city again? What makes you think you are capable?"

It was the question Yuanlin had spent the last four months fearing, certain that someone would ask and that she would have no answer. Now, she looked down at him and smiled, just a little. "Nothing," she said. "Perhaps I am not; perhaps I will be the first to die. But I am not moved by bitterness, or by revenge—only the desire to do what is best for Gungsao. You cannot say the same. Should you be forced to choose between an opportunity to fight and an opportunity to flee safely and return another day, how could you be trusted to decide with a clear mind?"

"Ah, yes," General Fong said sourly, "better that such choices be left to frightened girls."

"I know that I am frightened," Yuanlin said, "and so I will know not to let the fear choose for me. You have been angry so long that you cannot tell the difference between the anger and yourself."

The Avatar had come to the base of the stairs, with the Earth Kingdom girl supporting her on one side and her brother on the other; she was listing more heavily with every step, her eyes closed. "I hate to interrupt," the other girl said, "but could somebody help us find somewhere for her to rest?"

"Of course," Yuanlin said, handing the pike back to Yue with a bow. "Please, follow me," and she turned and led them back into the palace, leaving General Fong standing alone on the stairs.

They would not take a larger boat—they needed something four people could handle. But there were plenty of other things they needed, clothing repairs and replacements of worn shoes and fresh supplies; and Yuanlin happily provided.

"Seriously, this boat is sitting like a foot lower in the water now," Sokka said as he climbed off the dock, and Yuanlin smiled.

"I hope you will accept my apologies for General Fong," she said, dipping her head in a bow.

The Avatar, already standing in the stern, bit her lip. "You aren't going to—kill him or anything, are you?" she said. "I did agree. I mean, not to the part where he shoved my friends into rocks; but he wasn't actually trying to hurt us."

"Yeah, he's a sad and misunderstood guy," Sokka said, rolling his eyes.

"He will not be killed," Yuanlin assured the Avatar. "He did not act honorably, and he will not keep his rank; but he will not be killed. I know you have not seen much evidence of it—or, perhaps, too much—but he is a fine tactician. I think he could do much good if he could only remember his purpose."

"I hope you're right," the Avatar said.

Yue was last to board the boat, and she stopped before she left the dock to touch Yuanlin's shoulder. "I think you will be an excellent queen," she said; and the smile did not drop from Yuanlin's face until long after their boat had vanished on the horizon.