Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sokka is a sixteen-year-old boy. His mind is on only three things: food, boobs, or the war (that last one is unusual, maybe, but it does preoccupy him). Therefore, the first thing he notices about the swordmaster (swordmistress?) is her impressive cleavage. It’s hard not to notice, really, being that they’re all out there and surprisingly perky and bounce just a little as they fight. And it’s even worse because he hasn’t seen Suki since before they were in Ba Sing Se and the only girls he’s been around are Toph and Katara, and pretty though Katara is in that skimpy red top, she’s his sister. Gross.

So it’s almost entirely mostly accident when he trips and falls on top of Pianda. And he really, really didn’t mean to land face-first in her cleavage. Honestly.

They are nice and big and squishy, though. Surprisingly nice.

Pianda clears her throat, lifting one amused eyebrow. “Sokka? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, the first one muffled as he pulls his face free. “Er, sorry. Tripped on a rock. I’ll get up.”

Pianda follows him up and tugs her clothes back into place, still looking more amused than angry. “I don’t think I’d recommend that strategy in your attacks.”

Sokka blushes darkly. “Of course not, Master.”

Chapter Text

Sokka wakes up and growls as soon as they open his kennel to put in a new dog – a Doberman, it looks like, with a huge ugly scar over his left eye and ear. Sokka has been alone since his sister got adopted a week ago, and he doesn’t feel like sharing with anyone. He gets up and scuffs his back feet, ears flat and back to show his displeasure.

The Doberman doesn’t look overjoyed either, a low growl coming from his curled lips. He slinks along one side of the kennel, as far away from Sokka as he can get, and scratches at the blanket … Katara’s blanket.

Sokka lunges over to snap at his feet, dragging the blanket over to his side. The Doberman can have cold concrete for all he cares. He curls up with the blanket, still catching faint whiffs of his sister, and eyes the newcomer.

The Doberman circles a few times and lays down, staring at him distrustfully. He smells of sadness and pain and anger, which is a dangerous combination. He’ll probably foil Sokka’s escapes too, and bark and whine and want to come along. And just when he had almost figured out how to get over the high fence.

They don’t get along. They fight over the food, though each gets his own bowl, and bite and growl if the other gets too close. Sokka tries, yet again, to slip out of the kennel, but the Doberman follows close behind him and isn’t good enough not to get caught. He knocks over a garbage can, bringing the humans running, and they’re both shut up again.

Humans, especially female ones, love Sokka. Time and again they walk by his kennel, holding out their hands for him to lick, burying their fingers in his thick fur. But he is taller than the littlest ones, and they always turn away to take home a smaller dog.

At least nobody even looks at the Doberman, who just spends all of his time sulking at the back of the kennel. He’s ugly anyway, unwanted. “You know how that breed is,” the humans mutter, just like they had with that pit bull across the way, right up to when they had put him down. Sokka had heard the car crash that had shattered his body, though he hadn’t seen it. And to think, Jet had almost escaped.

Thinking of Jet makes Sokka feel just a little sympathetic towards the Doberman. After all, that eye must be practically useless. No wonder he doesn’t do anything when they’re let out to the big yard. He doesn’t even look up when Jin, that pretty floppy-eared brown mutt, comes and noses at him.

The Doberman shivers at night, once it gets cold. He lacks Sokka’s thick, downy coat of fleecy fur next to his skin, and the longer guard hairs that help cushion his body head close. Sokka watches him, fluffy tail nice and warm over his nose. Neither of them had been adopted … not that he had expected anyone to take note of the ugly, sulky Doberman.

He gets up and drops Katara’s blanket on top of him. The Doberman jerks his head up, confused and growling. Sokka just nips lightly at his ear and goes to curl up in his own spot. He feels a little better when the Doberman tugs the blanket closer to his nose.

Chapter Text

She was asleep. She had to be asleep. She wasn’t even logged in, so it had to be a dream. But if it was a dream, it was the weirdest, most realistic dream she had ever had.

The man beckoned her closer, and she approached him, feeling curious and cautious. He looked like Zuko … or he looked like Zuko would look, were his face whole. And he was surrounded by flame. She could feel the heat of the fire practically blistering her face, and raised an arm to shield herself.

“Little blossom,” he purred, stroking hot fingers along her jaw.

She backed up, reaching instinctively for the katana on her back only to find it wasn’t there. She swallowed, looking up into his burning amber eyes. Why did she know him?

“You have grown up,” he continued. “And your mind has hardened to me. So much tech in your little head.”

“Don’t touch me,” she growled.

“You must be close, or I would not be in your dreams at all. So very close. Where are you?”

She frowned and shook her head. She didn’t know who this man was, but she knew she must not tell him where she was. Something about Zuko. Why was his face so familiar?

All of a sudden his hand wrapped around her throat, and she gasped at the hot air, reaching up to tug him off.

“They locked you away,” he hissed, squeezing roughly. “They locked your mind from me. How dare they…”

She tugged and scratched at his arm, fighting desperately for life. Spots appeared in her vision, and the flames started to fade to black.

And then she woke up, panting for air and covered in sweat. Her enhanced reflexes were all turned on, making all her muscles tense. She slowly got them to settle down, pulling Zuko closer to her. He sighed and murmured in his sleep, and she nuzzled lightly into the back of his neck. She would protect him, probably at the cost of her life if the situation required it. Even against the man who looked just like him and had a stronger astral projection than she had ever felt from Zuko.

She sighed and brushed the hair away from the scarred half of his face. “Sleep,” she whispered. “I’m watching you.”

Chapter Text

“Mai!” Ty Lee shouted, cartwheeling down the gangplank and running to meet her old friend. She wrapped Mai in a tight hug, an ecstatic grin on her face. “It’s been so long!”

“It has,” Mai agreed. The only sign that she was as excited as Ty Lee was the tiny smile on her lips. “How was your trip?”

“Oh, you know,” Ty Lee said, flapping her hand at the ship. “Long and boring. There’s not enough space on a ship.”

Mai’s smile grew, just a little. It had been such a long time since she had seen Ty Lee, and still she was the same joyful character she had fought alongside so many years ago. True, she had abandoned the girlish pink of her old costume for the more demure blues of Kyoshi Island, and her hair was threaded with gray, but it was as if they had both stepped back in time to when they were both sixteen.

“So how’s your old husband?” Ty Lee asked, cartwheeling them over to their old training grounds. “Did you finally get that stick out of his butt?”

“No. The stick’s still there,” Mai replied, easily falling back into her old monotone. “He couldn’t come greet you because he had a meeting.”

Ty Lee turned her cartwheels to a handspring and a backflip, landing neatly on her feet again. “That’s too bad. But you’re the one I really wanted to see. It’s been ages since I really practiced with someone who isn’t sixteen. Training all those girls on the island is hard work.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to eat first? Maybe rest a little? You had a long trip, and we’re not as young as we used to be,” Mai pointed out, self-consciously touching the silver in her own hair. It wasn’t a new development – she had found her first white hair when she was twenty. Being the Fire Lord’s wife was not an easy task either.

“I just want to move,” Ty Lee insisted, adopting a fighting stance she had learned on Kyoshi. “Unless you think you’re too much of an old lady to fight like we used to.” Ty Lee grinned, goading her on with a couple of quick jabs.

Mai sighed like she was bored, blocking the last one. “Fine. And I’ll be sure to take it easy on you … old lady.”

And with that, they began fighting. Mai did not use her knives, and Ty Lee didn’t block Mai’s chi, acknowledging that it really was just a simple sparring session. Mai was impressed. Years of training with the Kyoshi warriors had turned Ty Lee into an expert martial artist, and in comparison Mai felt out of shape. She made a silent note to drag Zuko out for more practice.

Suddenly, Ty Lee called for a time-out, and Mai backed off. “What happened?” she asked, voice teasing. “Too much, even for a renowned Kyoshi warrior?”

“Maybe a little,” Ty Lee replied, making a face and limping over to a seat. “Just my hip … it’s been acting up. You know how it is.”

“Mmm,” Mai sighed, sitting beside her and feeling her own joints complain just a little from the workout. “You could see the royal physician.”

Ty Lee shook her head, smiling again. “I don’t need to. I just have to rest it for a bit. He’d only tell me I’m too old to be running around like a girl.”

Mai nodded, understanding. She felt a content smile spread over her face, and she reached down to take her friend’s hand. “It is good to see you again.”

Chapter Text

"We are the two most powerful women in the world, married to the two most powerful men in the world," Katara said, leaning on the balcony next to Mai.

"Mmm," Mai sighed in agreement, idly fingering her knives. "Anyone would envy us."

"I don't envy us." A small frown appeared between Katara's brows, and the water in the fountain nearby shivered with her agitation. "I don't know how it is with Zuko, but I never see Aang ... he's so busy, flying all around the world to solve their problems, or teaching his airbenders. Which is fine for him, he's a nomad. But I'm not a nomad."

Mai considered how rarely she saw Zuko, considering their disparate political schedules and their mutual need for alone time. She nodded slightly, indicating her sympathy.

"He just doesn't understand what I need," Katara continued. "Sometimes I just need ... someone, anyone. Somebody who knows how I feel and what I need." She glanced sideways at Mai.

Mai smiled, just a little bit, and tucked her hands inside her robes. "I know what you mean. That's why I regret that Ty Lee is all the way on Kyoshi Island. She always ... understood me." She gave a knowing wink.

Katara caught the grin, sidling closer. "Do you think you might understand me?" she asked quietly, reaching out to touch one of Mai's pale hands.

"I think I understand you perfectly," Mai purred, leaning in to kiss the Water Tribe girl.

Chapter Text

Everyone would have pinned Mai for a cat person. She was like a cat herself – solitary, clean, silent, and selectively affectionate. Her parents would have liked her to get a cat, or perhaps a small dog. That would be appropriate for a nobleman’s daughter. Those who knew her better, Ty Lee and Zuko and Sokka, knew just a little better. Still, when they pictured her with a dog, it was a sleek black one, all deadly force and speed.

Mai was tempted by that idea. She did like speed, and black, but she didn’t like pure black. What was the point of black without a little bit of color to break it up?

People were surprised and shocked (and even a little horrified) when she returned to the Fire Nation with a huge dog from the high, snowy reaches of the Earth Kingdom mountains. It came practically to her waist at its shoulder, and was covered with long, shaggy white and brown fur. It had a deep, thunderous bark that had been known to make grown Water Tribe men retreat for cover.

“That’s not a dog,” Sokka accused once when it “attacked” him. His hands were busy trying to keep the enormous nose down and out from under his tunic. “That’s a baby air bison!”

Mai snapped her fingers to call her dog off, smiling slightly behind her sleeve. The dog stuck its head under her hand, panting happily and drooling on her robes.

She ended up naming the dog Lei-zi, and together they lived happily ever after.

~

“A dog.”

“Yes.”

“Why is it in the bed?”

“Where else is she going to sleep?”

Zuko rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring down the huge, hairy, drooling thing stretched out on his bedspread. Sokka was right, it really was a baby air bison. He turned back to his wife.

Mai smiled, knowing she had won. She went to scratch her dog behind the ears. “Did you hear that, Lei-zi? Daddy doesn’t want you on the bed.”

The dog lifted her head, stared right at Zuko, and flopped over to drool on his pillow.

“You owe me,” he muttered.

Chapter Text

Ty Lee was flexible. She bent and stretched and accommodated, in more than just the physical. She adapted to Azula, bending when Azula needed someone to bend, standing firm when Azula needed support, curling around her like a cat when Azula needed comfort.

Mai saw it all, filing it away, the silent observer. She knew she could never be like Ty Lee - she was too brittle in all the wrong places with none of Ty Lee's suppleness and softness. She resisted when Ty Lee bent, grew metaphorical spikes when Ty Lee provided gentle comfort. She was not what Azula needed, except when Azula needed exactly what Mai was.

Still, she did have to smile when Ty Lee brought out that rare happy light in Azula's eyes. She didn't regret not having her friend's flexibility, not when she could watch its effect on their princess. Because really, that was what mattered.

Chapter Text

"Your hair is very shiny."

Mai glanced up at the girl who blocked her light. She stood very straight, which made her seem tall, and she was dramatically outlined by the sun. The girl had bright golden eyes and an imperious look on her face.

"Your hair is very shiny," she repeated, reaching down to touch Mai's hair. "How does your mother make it like that? Does she use oils? My mother uses only the best of oils. Do you know why? Because she is the Second Princess."

"Oh," Mai said, unimpressed. "No, she doesn't use oils."

"My mother uses only the most expensive oils, made from panda-lilies," the girl continued. "They make her hair very soft. I use them when she isn't looking. Panda-lilies are only found in the Earth Kingdom, you know. On the edge of a volcano."

"My mother washes my hair in cold water," Mai explained quietly. "She says that keeps it soft and shiny."

"I see," the girl said, peering closer. She sat next to Mai, her back still very straight. "My name is Azula. You can be my friend."

Chapter Text

Mai was bored. It took her a long time to come to this realization – several years, in fact, of playing the part she had taken on. Years of following obediently in Zuko’s shadow, directing his household and giving him advice and looking the part of the respectable Fire Lady. And it was not her usual boredom, which resulted only in holes in the wall when she played with her knives. This boredom, the tedium and monotony of her everyday life, was far worse.

She considered showing him the same disrespect he had once showed her and leaving him with just a note. It would be cruel and ironic and so appropriate. She drafted it in her head … “Zuko, I’m leaving.” “Thanks for five years of nothing.” “I’m sorry, but you’re just too boring.”

She had thought it a match made in heaven, a few years ago. She had always liked Zuko a little more than she had hated everything else, and no one could deny that he was handsome, even after he got the scar. Their reunion in Ba Sing Se, after Azula nearly killed the Avatar, was a happy one, at least on her side. His temperament was so much like hers, she thought, dark and cynical and skeptical of the world and their place in it.

Five years later, she knew that similarity was not enough to keep her happy.

She meant to let him down slowly and gently, but in the end, it didn’t quite come out that way. “I’m leaving,” she told him one night, matter-of-factly.

He frowned, looking a little confused. “To do what?”

“Just to leave. I’m bored here.” She examined her nails, unwilling to watch his face. “I may go live with Ty Lee on Kyoshi Island.”

“You mean … you’re leaving me.” It wasn’t a question, though he sought confirmation. She nodded. “Why?”

“I told you, I’m bored. This isn’t what I want.” You aren’t what I want.

Zuko exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. She stood, frustrated a little by the way he didn’t fight back. Not that she wanted him to want to keep her, but she would have appreciated a little more emotion. Where was the passion she had seen from him that night on the beach? Perhaps it had been lost as soon as he went to join the Avatar, along with all of his rage and pain and everything that made him interesting to her.

“Goodbye, Zuko,” she said, with all of the warmth of a frosty North Pole midwinter, and left the palace.

Chapter Text

"One wish."

"One wish? Anything I want?"

"Whatever you want, right now." She pressed closer to him, dragging her nails down his side. His arm rested around her shoulders, trapping the long, sweaty weight of her hair against her skin.

"Hmm. Gonna have to think about that."

She tilted her head up to catch his smirk, glaring playfully. "The right answer is 'you, Mai.' Just for the record."

He just grinned more, playing lightly with her hair. "You are definitely near the top of the list. But I could really go for some stewed sea prunes..."

She glared harder, though her eyes were hidden behind her bangs, and bit down on his chest. Hard.

He yelped and laughed, pulling her up into a kiss. "You, Mai," he whispered against her lips. "Only you."

Chapter Text

Mai watched the crumbs from her bread float out into the pond, drawing the turtleducks closer to the shore. They liked her … perhaps the best out of the royal family, though Ozai was a close second. She reached out, brushing the downy feathers on a chick’s head.

She didn’t bother to look up when she heard her daughter running up to the pond. “You’re a half an hour late,” she said, though did not scold.

“Sorry, Mother,” Chiyo said, sitting down and tugging pieces of grass out of her glossy black wolftail. “I was fishing and I fell asleep.”

“Did you catch anything?” Mai asked with a small grin.

“No.” Chiyo tossed out some crumbs to the turtleducks, grumbling to herself. “Stupid fish. And I got a sunburn.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Mai heard a voice that sounded like her mother. That’s what you get for letting your child run around like a little demon, it hissed. She is next in line to be Fire Lord, and still you let her hunt things down, practically with her bare teeth, just like a little Water Tribe heathen. And that isn’t to mention the rumors about her parentage.

Mai shunted the voice away. Better for Chiyo to dress in blue and play in the river and to laugh, if that was what made her happy, rather than imprison her in her future role and steal away her childhood. And there could be no question about her father, not the way she had Zuko’s eyes and mouth and firebending.

She shook off her thoughts and handed more bread to Chiyo. “There’s always tomorrow,” she said, picking another piece of grass from her daughter’s hair. “Just try not to fall asleep next time.”

Chiyo looked back at her and beamed, free and unrestrained as Mai had never been allowed to show. Mai smiled back, just a little, and gave a larger crumb to the mother turtleduck.

Chapter Text

“Sit here,” Ty Lee said, patting the space between her legs and smiling brightly. “I’ll fix your hair. It’s so messy.”

Mai frowned – her hair was never messy – but obeyed, sitting between her friend’s legs and tilting her head back. She felt nimble fingers pick at her hair, gently combing through tangles and working at knots. Okay, so maybe over the course of her stay in prison, her hair had gotten a little neglected. But they had been in prison, so it could probably be excused.

Ty Lee hummed quietly behind her, massaging gently at her scalp. “Your hair is so pretty, Mai. I wish I had hair like yours.”

Mai smiled just a little. “It’s just hair. Yours is nice too.”

“But yours is so shiny.” Ty Lee adjusted her head and started a braid – Mai could tell by how the tugging changed. “What are you going to do when we get back?”

Mai shrugged; she had honestly avoided thinking of it. Her options were pretty limited. “Find Zuko again, I guess. I still like him.”

“Even after he left you? Wow, I guess that’s true love. And hey, maybe you’ll be the Fire Lady! That would be so cool!”

Mai smiled more, leaning into Ty Lee’s gentle hands. “It would be pretty nice. Better than going back to my parents.”

“Yeah,” Ty Lee said brightly. “I’m the same way. That’s why I’m running of to Kyoshi. The girls offered me a spot as a warrior.”

“Hmm,” Mai murmured, thinking that over. That did seem like something Ty Lee would like. “But you’d have to leave the Fire Nation. You’d be so far away.”

“Far away is what I want.” The fingers paused, brushing instead against Mai’s shoulder. “I’d miss you, but after Azula…”

Mai reached up, touching her hand. “I know. There is the circus…”

Ty Lee shivered a little, holding Mai tighter. “No more circus for me. Azula was a little too convincing the last time I was there.”

Mai squeezed her hand. “Then go to Kyoshi. You’ll just have to visit all the time, okay?”

“I promise.” Ty Lee kissed her head lightly, starting the braid again. “Who else are you going to get to tell you that your aura looks dingy?”

Mai huffed and dug her elbow back against Ty Lee’s ribs. “My aura isn’t dingy.”

Ty Lee tugged gently at her braid, and Mai could hear the smile in her voice. “No it isn’t.”

Chapter Text

“These Dai Li boys are pretty cute.”

“I guess, if you like muscly dirty earthbenders.”

“Oh come on, Mai. You can’t say you don’t like strong men.”

“Fine. But I don’t like dirty men.”

“I’m going to go see if they like a girl in uniform.”

“Azula told us to lay low. Anyway, these skirts are too heavy to move around much.”

“… So we could take them off!”

One of the Dai Li blushed faintly beneath his hat. Mai noticed and glanced his way, quietly amused. “Careful, Ty Lee, or you’ll scare them off.”

Ty Lee cartwheeled up to the blushing one, grinning widely. “He could take off his skirt too!”

Chapter Text

(You asked for crackfic, you get Genji references. ;) Zuko can be Hanachirosato, but Mai is totally To no Chujo. Um, I hope my geekery suits you.)

~

“This is ridiculous,” Zuko muttered, just a little muffled as he struggled into his seventh robe. “Why did people ever do this?” Mai had chosen a special winter-themed collection of robes for him, and the alternating colors flattered his skin. But then, seven robes did make it a little difficult to be comfortable. He was pink-cheeked with warmth and frustration.

“I think you look very pretty,” she said with a tiny grin, tying on the last of her armor. She had chosen a warrior’s traditional outfit, complete with a very terrifying helmet. Together, they made a very impressive couple.

He huffed again, and she went to his side, straightening his robes and tucking them into the long formal hakama. There was little to be done about his hair, which was sadly still growing out. She combed it back into a topknot, which was better than nothing.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you go all-out,” she commented, tugging lightly at a lock of hair. “I could make you blacken your teeth. Or draw in eyebrows.” She traced her thumb high on his forehead where the eyebrows would have gone.

“I think you get the comfier outfit,” he said, tilting his head back to look at her. “Fewer layers.” He lifted his hand to loosen the neck of his robes, and had to shake back the sleeves that enveloped his fingertips.

“But think of how much fun it will be to undress you.” She finished his hair off and faced him again, drawing him into a kiss. “Be my lady of falling flowers…”

Zuko chuckled into her mouth, letting her kiss him. “Whatever makes you happy, Mai.”

Chapter Text

“Eight years.” Mai’s voice is quiet.

“What?” Azula’s is sharp, just this side of too-paranoid and suspicious.

“I waited for you. I counted. You were in there eight years.”

Azula eyes her over the cup of tea she has not sipped from. Her hair has not yet grown out, still short around her chin and in jagged chunks. They did not let her have long hair. Mai thinks she looks older than she should, too. Here and there are strands of gray, and there are small lines between her eyebrows. Frown lines.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” Azula says. “You chose him, didn’t you? You chose him over me. You betrayed me.”

Mai just looks back at her, hurting and longing and guilty.

“You didn’t even visit me.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to.”

“Ty Lee visited me anyway.”

“That’s Ty Lee,” Mai says, allowing a small wry smile.

“I hate you.” It is a harsh whisper, and Azula’s eyes are fire-bright behind her cup. “And you’ve always hated me. Why are you here.”

It isn’t a question Mai needs to answer. She reaches over, brushing Azula’s woefully short hair behind her ear. “It’s okay now,” she says, though she has no certainty of that. But this time, there is nothing to calculate.

Azula reaches up, startling Mai with her cold hand. She slides Mai’s sleeve back, revealing her sheathed knives. She exhales, and Mai knows when to recognize relief. “Yes,” Azula says at last, letting her hand go. “It’s okay.”

Chapter Text

He returned smelling of blood and smoke. It would have worried most normal wives, but then, Mai had never thought of herself as normal.

He came in through the window, as he usually did when he didn’t want any of his guards stopping him and asking him awkward questions, or even worse, shooting first and asking later. He wore his mask, the fearsome demon mask that was painted blue. Mai thought it made him look dangerous and alluring, and she definitely didn’t mind the tight black clothes he wore.

She put down her pen and rose to meet him, a small smile breaking onto her face. Here, alone with him, she could remove the mask she wore day in and day out, the strict face of the Fire Lady who willingly shouldered her share of the diplomatic tasks and then some. Alone with Zuko, she could be herself, and she could let herself smile.

He lifted his mask, the demon’s horrible leer replaced with his own slightly-lopsided grin, and pulled her in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

The dresses really aren't the worst part to get used to. He's worn robes before when his father used to call him to formal meetings that required strict tradition, and there really isn't that much difference between a robe and a dress.

"It's tradition!" Sokka insists, tying the belt tighter around his waist. "You have to do it."

"You mean I haven't suffered enough indignity?" Zuko grumbles.

"It's not indignity, it's ... here, just sit."

Zuko glares daggers until Sokka makes him close his eyes, brushing on makeup that feels cold and heavy on his face. He can't help the small intake of breath, the fire that dances on his fingertips as Sokka dabs it over the rough skin of his scar. As the stuff dries, it feels like a mask, like it will crack and shatter if he smiles or frowns.

"There," Sokka says at last, stepping back and putting his face next to Zuko's in the mirror.

Zuko opens his eyes, and for the first time in years, sees no scar, just the white and red and black that Kyoshi warriors wear. He turns his head so he can look at Sokka with his good eye.

"Okay, now are you going to teach me how to move in this? It's so heavy."

Sokka just grins, twirling in his own heavy skirts and trying not to trip. "Easy. If Suki can do it, so can we."

Zuko rises and promptly trips over the skirt. "I hate you," he grumbles affectionately.

Chapter Text

Green, black, red, white. The teas in the Jasmine Dragon were organized neatly into their individual categories and flavors. Uncle Iroh had them color-coded for easy fetching by his employees. It was neat, almost spotless except for the dust that had accumulated.

Zuko’s fingers caught on a small canister of chai tea. His uncle hated the stuff, which was so unlike his bitter, subtle green tea. He had bought it mostly for Zuko, on their travels. Zuko didn’t mind the spicy, energizing black tea, served best with sugar and some deercow milk. Chai had been hard to come by as they traveled the Earth Kingdom, but somehow or another Iroh had gotten his hands on some, straight from the Fire Nation. It brought back memories of dusty Earth woods, the crackling fire between them, Iroh turning his nose at Zuko’s too-sweet tea but secretly smiling to see his nephew enjoy it.

Those times had come to a permanent end, though. There would be no more ostrichhorse rides over the plains, no nights spent in a cave with Iroh snoring five feet away, fit to wake the dead. No more late nights as he tried to teach Zuko the patience and strategy to play pai sho as they sipped their respective teas.

Zuko fingered the white lotus tile in his pocket and reached for the chai, carefully measuring out the leaves and setting the water to boil.

He felt more than heard Mai as she entered the pantry of the Dragon. She was, as always, silent as a shadow, and yet she approached him cautiously. He looked back at her, gesturing at the teapot.

“I was just making some chai. Want some?”

She made a face and reached for a different canister. “I could never stand that stuff. It’s too sweet. I’ll have green tea.”

He nodded and prepared the tea leaves for hers as well, putting them in a different pot, one of Iroh’s old favorites with holly berries painted along the rim. When the water was ready, he poured it, and steam billowed up that smelled of those long hot days wandering Earth Kingdom backroads. He poured the tea, carefully stirring some milk and sugar into his.

Mai blew at the steam rising from her cup, watching her husband carefully. He had not cried yet. He hadn’t cried when they received the news (“In his sleep,” they said. “Peaceful as a lambcalf.”). He hadn’t cried at the ceremony, when he stood solemn-faced in his white robes next to their children as the pyre and the body burned to ashes. He hadn’t cried on the trip over, the two of them and a handful of guards on the ship, or when they met the Avatar’s earthbending teacher at the entrance to Ba Sing Se. The blind girl had been teary-eyed as she touched Zuko’s arm, and he had held her close, but he had not cried.

But now she could see the lines of tension in his face, the slightest tremor of his hand as he sipped his tea. She could smell the spices of it lingering in the air between them.

“I never got to say goodbye,” he said at last, voice quiet like he was still that boy from so many years ago. “I guess I thought he’d live forever.”

“I think he will,” Mai said, also quiet. She tasted jasmine in her tea. “I can still feel him in this place.”

Zuko’s lips tightened to a thin white line. “If he had been at home … at the palace, we could have treated him. He was always so stubborn.”

Mai sighed and reached to hold his free hand. “He loved it here. He would have wanted to die here.”

He squeezed her hand, looking back into the room and blinking a few times. “Stubborn old man.”

Mai set down her tea and went to sit next to him, sliding her hand over his shoulders. He sat stiffly, shoulders tight, just as stubborn as he had accused Iroh of being.

“It isn’t your fault, you know,” she whispered. “It’s no one’s fault. And it’s okay to be sad.”

He lifted his sleeve to his cheek, turning his face away. He couldn’t face his sadness now, the all-consuming grief that was all he could think of. He had to be strong, he couldn’t afford that vulnerability. But then Mai’s strong, slender fingers grabbed his chin and made him look at her. She was grieving too, he saw, and her eyes were damp with unshed tears.

She watched as his face crumpled, and she held him as he leaned forward, crying silent tears into the shoulder of the green Earth Kingdom robe. She bowed her head, running her fingers through his hair. “I miss him too,” she said quietly, wiping at her own tears.

Chapter Text

“Sorry,” Jet said when Song returned from changing out of her scrubs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you…”

“It’s good to have you back,” she said quietly.

He looked up at her, eyes bloodshot, hair scraggly and tangled. “You deserve something better than a guy who just drops in like this.”

She kneeled beside him, holding his hand and rubbing his knuckles against her cheek. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He bit at his chapped lips, drawing his hand away from her skin. “You deserve better than a stray dog.”

Chapter Text

“Your past is very dark,” Aunt Wu pronounced ominously, looking at the cracks in the bones. “There was a powerful man, and much passion.”

Ursa nodded silently. That much was more than true.

“You are powerful as well. Almost too powerful for this man to contain. And your children … I see they will leave a lasting legacy.”

Her heart leapt at the thought of Zuko and Azula.

“Yet still I see a darkness inside you,” the fortuneteller continued. “Like a beast straining to escape.”

Ursa narrowed her eyes, waving her hand to extinguish the fire. “You see far, fortuneteller.”

Chapter Text

She looked up from her musing to see Ozai approaching her seat near the turtleduck pond. She shifted so he could sit next to her, accepting the bread and tossing a few crumbs to the turtleducks. He wrapped his arms around her waist, settling his hands on the fullness of her stomach and rubbing gently.

“How are you today?”

“I am well,” she replied quietly, relaxing in his arms. “Though I am getting tired of so much confinement. I have rested enough for two lifetimes.”

“You will need all your strength.” He kissed her temple lightly.

She smiled and leaned back against his shoulder, tilting her head to look at his face. Iroh had been nothing but kind to her, always a gentleman, but she couldn’t help being glad that she had snagged the handsome prince. She lifted a hand to stroke his face gently, tracing down to his beard.

“Our son would make a good Fire Lord,” she said, as though she had just thought of it.

His jaw tightened, and his hands stilled on her stomach. “Such talk could be considered treasonous, my love,” he murmured in her ear.

“I’m just saying,” she continued. “Iroh is planning to take Lu Ten with him to the siege of Ba Sing Se. That puts the heir apparent in quite a bit of danger, don’t you think?”

“Ursa,” he said, a hint of warning in his voice, though by the gleam in his eye he had considered what she was saying.

“We will not squander our son’s life so lightly.” She rubbed where she felt him kick. “And he would make a good Fire Lord. A mother knows these things.”

Chapter Text

Song did not attend the spring festival in her town. Every year her mother urged her to go, to put on nicer clothes and put her hair up and meet a boy or two. Every year she refused, tucking the skirt of her hanbok around her scarred leg. She was not ready to “meet a boy or two.” The loss of her father was too recent, too fresh, for her to be able to deal with the likely loss of a husband.

Still, she did like the music. She listened to it every year as she prepared her herbs and balms for more medicines, humming along with the lilting notes, tapping her foot with the fast-paced drum. She imagined all of the couples dancing around the fire, all happy and carefree for at least one night out of the year. The somber gloom of the constant war lifted, and the people lived again.

And every year, after her mother went to sleep, Song snuck out of their rooms in the hospital and went to a clearing in the woods. It was far enough away that none of the villagers would stumble upon her, but close enough that she could still hear the music. There in the moonlight, she stripped off a few layers so she could feel the warm spring air on her skin. She let her hair out of the braid, feeling the long brown strands flow down to her waist. She took a deep breath and let the music flow through her body, reacquainting her arms with her spine with her legs. She stomped her feet to the beat and remembered what it was to live without fear.

Chapter Text

Zuko didn’t find the inner peace and balance to create lightning until he had experienced peace for several years. (The problem with being Fire Lord Zuko was that people remembered Fire Lords Ozai and Azulon and had grown up on stories of Fire Lord Sozin. Zuko seemed like only a pale imitation, the boy-lord wrenching their country away from the greatness of the past. It took a lot of convincing and not a little bribery before the people started to come around.)

He drew in a deep breath, focusing on the peace and serenity of his meditations rather than any of the many pressing issues demanding his attention. He let everything go but his fire, drawing his fingers around in a circle, searching, grasping for that separation between positive and negative energies. (He still practiced his firebending and his swords … he had always had to practice, again and again, so unlike his sister to whom everything had come so naturally.)

He didn’t realize he had found it until he felt the electricity prickle at his fingertips. He opened his eyes, watching the lightning gather in the ring he had drawn, sparkling and dangerous. With another exhale he let it go, pointing his fingers harmlessly into the sky. He watched it go, still quietly amazed that he had finally found lightning.

Chapter Text

Ozai did not lead what most would consider a happy childhood. True, he was surrounded by enviable luxury, tended by servants and served the finest foods. He wore the most expensive silks and received firebending training from the best masters in the world. He was cared for and pampered in all respects. But he was never particularly happy.

He was the much younger son of the esteemed Fire Lord Azulon. By the time he was born, his older brother Iroh had already proved himself to be a strong and able soldier and a brilliant strategist. He had climbed the officers’ ranks, and it was assumed he would continue ascending until he became a general. Iroh was a master firebender, despite his young age, and the apple of his father’s eye. Ozai stood in the shadow of his brother’s spotlight, the long-awaited second son to secure Azulon’s line. Little more was expected of him beyond eventually becoming an able advisor or soldier for his brother when Iroh ascended the throne.

It didn’t really help that his birth had been his mother’s death. What should have been celebrated was mourned with the loss of the Lady Ilah. Ozai attended first official function swaddled in the arms of Li (or maybe it had been Lo?), and barely a few days old, he watched as his mother’s body burned.

Despite the misfortunes of his birth, Ozai found it in him to excel at his studies and his training. He grew ambitious, devouring the knowledge and skills as they appeared before him. Outwardly he expressed the goal of becoming a general as great as Iroh, but inwardly he dreamed of even greater glory, perhaps even ascending the throne himself. Ozai saw little of his brother, especially after his nephew was born and Iroh had more time for his son than his child-brother. Ozai resented it a little bit (somehow, Iroh had always known the best teas for any situation), and he could also see potential weakness in Iroh’s obvious sentimentality. He would not be weak. He would aspire to be the greatest Fire Lord since Sozin, or greater.

But he was still a little boy, and little boys (even with Ozai’s goals) still made mistakes. His current aggravation was a new firebending move, a complicated and powerful one that was probably beyond his current skill level. But he’d seen Iroh doing it, drawing crackling electricity out of the air, and he could do whatever Iroh could do.

He drew in a deep breath, widening his stance as his master had taught, and began to draw his fingers around in a wide circle. “Come on, lightning,” he muttered, willing electricity to form. “You can do it…”

It sparked and popped at his fingertips, then snapped back at him, enveloping his arm with angry blue lightning. He shouted in fear and thrust it away, creating a nice new scorch mark on the practice ground. Cradling his arm, he inspected the damage with some dread. His fingers still felt tingly, and he was burned, patches of skin growing red and angry and blistered.

“Ozai,” his master said, approaching him quickly and wearing a disapproving frown. “What were you doing?”

“Prince Ozai,” he corrected, fighting back tears. “I was practicing. As should be obvious.”

The master sighed and pulled out some soothing balm; firebenders had to know how to treat burns with a relative degree of competence. “Where did you even see that move?” he asked as he rubbed the balm into Ozai’s skin. “Very few firebenders can master lightning, and none so young as you are.”

“Iroh did it,” Ozai replied, bottom lip beginning to edge out. “I should be able to do it too. I’m as good as he is.”

“Iroh is many years older than you are and a skilled soldier. You cannot expect to do everything he does just yet.” He gently wrapped the bandage around Ozai’s arm, softening his stern expression. “Be careful, will you? Learn some discipline before you try moves like that.”

“Yes, Master,” Ozai said, quieter but definitely not subdued. He managed a short bow, glancing at his injured arm as he did so. “It won’t scar, will it?”

The master looked down at the bandaged arm. “It shouldn’t. Just don’t pick at it as it heals. I will give you more balm to put on it.”

“Thank you, Master Jeong Jeong,” Ozai said, widening his feet again into the practiced stance. “Teach me more discipline, please.”

Jeong Jeong shivered a little at the cold determination on the boy’s face. “Breathing exercises. Begin.”

Chapter Text

His name was Appa because that was what his boy called him, back when they were both little more than newborns. His boy (Aang, the others called him) had tempted him down with a ripe, juicy red apple. He liked making his boy laugh by licking his face, though soon he had grown so large that he could easily fit his boy inside his mouth – not that he ever wished to attempt that, of course.

Now he had more humans than just his boy; there were the two others from the land of ice, the very loud tiny one, and the one that had freed him under the lake when he was held captive. He cared for all of them, and had basically adopted all of them as his own, though they didn’t know it. They slept on his tail or his head or curled up against his warm, furry side, and he protected them in the night. The boy from the icy land gave him baths, and the one who had set him free gave him silent company, sometimes.

He and the lemur liked to watch Appa’s boy practice. Aang had long since mastered airbending, so now it was all fire. Appa stayed well back from the flames, still wary of the danger, though less so now that his boy was back by his side.

His favorite part was right after all the practicing with the fire, when his boy would float over to him on the wind and embrace his nose.

“Hey, buddy,” Aang always greeted, burying his face in the shaggy fur above Appa’s eyes. “Were you watching? I did good, huh?”

Appa always responded with a happy groan and a thorough tongue-bath that made Aang giggle. Then, sometimes, if they tiny loud one didn’t steal his boy away to make the earth shake, Appa would fly his boy around the temple, pretending it was just the two of them again.