Chapter Text
The Fire is Mine
Blue fire burst across the night like Sozin’s comet. So hot and so close, it singed his skin as he ducked. Wind whistled in his ears. Azula. She’d found them! With a grunt of effort, Toph swiveled and pushed. Great discs of stone flew out from the mountainside toward the airship where Azula was perched. Aang hauled Sokka across Appa’s saddlebow.
“Good to have you back, buddy!” he said brightly.
“Sokka! We were so worried about you!” Katara said, only to be cut off by a burst of orange fire from Azula’s firebenders. A rush of water from her bending pouch extinguished it. Sokka blinked, dazed. He rubbed his eyes, goggling at Azula poised on the balloon of the airship, hair swinging loose about her shoulders.
“She . . . she didn’t . . .” Sokka said. Aang clapped a hand on Sokka’s shoulder.
“Hold that thought,” he said, leaping from Appa’s back to heave his staff around and down to deflect a thrown fireball. It was beyond satisfying to see it fall away and sputter. Aang floated back down to find Sokka beaming, nearly vibrating with excitement.
“Did you see that?” Sokka said, pointing to Azula.
“She didn’t kill me! Isn’t that great?” he said swinging his arms wide. Aang shared a wondering glance with Katara.
“Uh yeah, Sokka. It’s really great,” Toph said with a shrug.
“No, no. She could have shot me with lightning, but she didn’t. That means she loves me!” Sokka said.
~
One month earlier . . .
Fire was the element of power. Superior. And she was the heiress of power, eldest daughter of the great Firelord Ozai. Soon their hour would come, and the Fire Nation would reign supreme over the others. All that stood in the way was the Avatar and his friends: the Water Tribe peasants, the blind Earth Kingdom girl, and now, as the Day of Black Sun drew to a close, her traitor brother Zuko.
Destiny delivered her the key: Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, laid unconscious at her feet.
“He was attempting the flee with the Avatar on his bison,” the soldier said, his voice warbling behind the skeletal faceplate, “Shall I throw him in a cell?”
“No. Take him to my chamber. He’s not a bender, and even my brother could best him in single combat. He is no threat to me.”
“But, Princess--”
Azula narrowed her golden eyes, like a tigerdillo assessing if its prey was worth the effort.
“Are you questioning my orders?” If she focused, she imagined she could hear his armor rattle as he shook in his boots.
“No. Not at all princess. I will move him right away.”
Alone once more on the balcony, Azula braced her hands on the stone railing, warm from the trapped heat of the sun. A cool sea breeze teased the golden curtains, danced among wind chimes. Her mother had been fond of music. Azula always found it grating.
The question was: why was a backwater peasant carrying a Fire Nation sword? Azula knew it as Fire Nation instantly. The red accents, the leather of the grip. Stolen, most likely. The legendary swordmaster Piandao lived a few islands away. She made a mental note to send a hawk to see if any of his stock was missing.
Azula peered at the pommel. Etched into the leather was the symbol of a lotus flower. Was the peasant a Pai Sho enthusiast? Uncle would love him. She drew the blade free. So it hadn’t been a trick of the light. Pinned to the wall in the bunker by his sword, it looked black. And black it was, polished to a mirror shine and sharp enough to split a hair. Sokka’s ferocity was almost firebender in nature. Azula sheathed the sword and set it aside.
She snapped her fingers and three maidservants appeared from the deep shadows of the room’s corners. Lingering. Hesitant.
“Armor off,” she commanded. Empty-headed dolts every one of them. Their sole purpose in life was to anticipate her needs, and even at that they failed. At least they had the good sense to obey, quickly and quietly. The heavy enameled plates chased with gold were a burden she was used to: she’d been training and bending in them since she could walk. Still, it was easier to breathe once it was off.
The bathing servants were much more anticipatory, Azula noted with gimlet eyes. One teased the ornament from her top knot, letting her hair fall loose and heavy. Another divested her of her greaves and curl-toed boots. Once naked, another offered a hand to guide her up the black marble steps and into the bath. She could create lightning with a gesture, climb the walls of Ba Sing Se with her bare hands, but it was her due as princess to accept the offered assistance. The bath was perfectly hot, water piped in from the volcanic hot springs underground.
Another of the faceless hundreds of servants fetched a selection of dressing gowns while two more washed the sweat and mire of battle from her hair and skin. In questioning their prisoner, she must be immaculate, untiring, untouchable. Azula considered donning her armor again, but what better way to throw the peasant off-guard than to appear totally unconcerned with his presence? In the end, she chose a black silk set of loose-fitting shirt and trousers. Her hair, once combed smooth, was retied in her top knot, two locks loosened to frame her face. With a sharp gesture, she dismissed the servants and made her way down the long, shadowy hall to her bedchamber.
~
The lump in Sokka’s head had its own heartbeat. Throbbing pain. A drumbeat of ow ow ow. Let’s see, the last thing he remembered was the invasion, Azula leading them on a chase inside a hollow mountain, a desperate run for the rim of the royal city and then—nothing. Oh no. Sokka snapped his eyes open and found not a dingy prison cell, but a room bigger than their ice house back home, draped in red and black and gold.
Captured. In the Fire Nation. Not good.
“This is usually Aang’s job,” he muttered, rubbing his head. Unhurt, save for the lump on his head. Unarmed too. His sword and boomerang were gone, even his jawbone knife. Unhurt and unbound. His captor was either stupid or arrogant. Considering Fire Nation, probably both.
Sokka huffed a breath up to get his loose hair out of his eyes. It was a bedroom, a very fancy one. A huge four poster bed with a silken canopy. Threads of cloying incense wafted from a burner on the bedside table. An oil lamp swayed and flickered overhead. Tall narrow windows let in a cool breeze smelling of the sea. Sokka heaved at the paneled windows. Nope. Sealed shut. He tiptoed to the door, tried to jimmy the lock. Nothing.
The pieces of a plan rattled around in his mind. Maybe he could wait for the door to open, knock out the guard and be on his merry way. Or maybe he could feign sickness, they would take him to an infirmary and he could slip out that way. Or maybe—a key jangled in the lock. With a squeak, Sokka skittered back looking for a hiding place. The drapey curtains would work. The door opened and shut with a murmur of oiled hinges. Sokka measured his breathing, poised to strike—
“I can see you’ve been taking stealth lessons from that blind girl. I can see your boots, peasant. Come out.” That voice, cultured and sharp with disdain. Azula. Sheepish, Sokka parted the curtain. In hindsight, not the best plan. His heart dropped to his toes at the sight of her. Was she wearing pajamas? He’d never seen her in anything less than impeccable armor.
“Why am I here?”
Azula simpered.
“Isn’t it obvious? After your pathetic attempt of an invasion, the Fire Nation is poised for total victory. I’m sure the Avatar will come to heel once he learns where his little friend is being held captive.”
The plan held water. Aang, Katara, and Toph would come to his rescue if they knew he was here. He scratched his chin.
“There’s just one problem: I have no idea where they are.”
Azula’s amber-gold eyes pinned him in place, wearing that slight, infuriating smirk.
“You’re lying. I know a little about you, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. It was your idea to attack on the Day of Black Sun. If nothing else, you’re not a complete idiot. There must have been a meeting point in event you were separated.”
There was. The same uninhabited island with the deep-water ports he and his father had found on a map. He couldn’t give that up unless the others had tried to meet up there. A Fire Nation ambush would result in imprisonment or death. His best answer was a shrug. Azula arched a brow.
“Interesting. Your girlfriend was much more adamant about your sense of honor.”
There it was, that same string she yanked in the Firelord’s fortress: Suki. Even though he was prepared for it, the words still stung. The thought of her alone in the dark begging for his help haunted his dreams.
“In war, honor doesn’t mean much. As Fire Nation, you should understand that.”
The insult didn’t faze her. Nothing seemed to faze her. Azula opened her hands. Blue fire glowed in her palm, under-lighting her features in ghoulish effect.
“I’d rather not resort to . . . messier methods.”
Sokka felt fear quiver low in his stomach. As an enemy, she was relentless, powerful and calculated. As a captor, he expected nothing different. He stood resolute. The fire winked out as she closed her fists. Tendrils of smoke wafted from between her fingers.
“You’re brave, Sokka. And I can be reasonable. It wouldn’t do to scorch you where you stand on our first night.” Sokka felt weak-kneed with relief. She clapped her hands twice. Two guards filed in, clamped chains on his wrists. Azula waggled her fingers in a mocking wave.
“Sweet dreams.”
The cell was much closer to what he expected. Cramped, drippy, smelly. The one perk was that the firebender guards were bored and lazy. All three were deeply entrenched in a dice game. Money changed hands. Most benders didn’t expect anything from non-benders. There was a loose bolt attaching his sleeping bench to the wall. It didn’t take long to pry it free.
Sokka worked the makeshift pick into the lock, trying to use what Toph told him about locks. Be patient, wait for the click. The bolt slipped from sweaty fingers to land with a loud ping on the stone floor. Sokka winced, waiting for the heavy tread of the guard. He waited. And waited. Nothing. Whew. The bolt was just within reach. He kept at it, tongue stuck out in concentration. He wiggled and twisted and cursed. Finally . . . a click. Yes!
“One down.”
Two to go.
~
The patter of slippers woke her. Azula burst from bed. It drove her mad to be woken from sleep.
“What?”
The messenger squeaked and shrank into a ball.
“A—A—Apologies, Princess. There was an urgent message from the prison.”
“Speak.”
“The Water Tribe boy, Princess! He’s escaped!”
Lightning danced and crackled around her, skittering down her arms. She saw the reflection of it in the boy’s eyes. Awe and fear were not enough to temper incompetence, it seemed.
“I am going to say this once: Find him. Now.”
“There are men scouring the city.”
“Ready my palanquin.”
No. Wait. Had it been her idiot brother or even the Avatar, the most likely place to find him would have been the horse-ostrich stables or the marina. But Sokka was clever. She must expect the unexpected. Azula swept her hair from her eyes.
“Forget it. Just keep the servants out of the royal quarters for now. Do not disturb my father, under any circumstance.”
With the lamps extinguished, the study stood dark. The moon was the faintest silver paring in the sky overhead. Her mother’s chimes sang in the faint stirring of wind. Faintly in the city beyond, she heard the bells pealing from the guardhouse. Incompetent fools. Even an Agni Kai to avenge her insulted honor was too good for them. Their behavior reflected poorly on her. When Father found out, he would—she shut out the thought. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t a failure like Zuko. She would find the clever Water Tribe peasant and chain him to her father’s throne if she had to.
The trap was set. The bait sat innocently on her study table. A Fire Nation sword fresh from the forge, a chipped yet obviously beloved boomerang. Azula sat, absolutely still, wakeful and vigilant as the night wore on. As the water clock chimed, a seedling of doubt sprang up like a weed. Had she misstepped? Should she oversee the search herself?
A soft patter, barely perceptible. Limned in the silver of the moonlight, the Water Tribe climbed onto the balcony. He could move with grace and quiet when he chose. Azula allowed a small smile. Caught you, little mouse.
“Lucky boomerang! Space sword! I’ve missed you,” he whispered. Azula stood slowly, stretching stiffened muscles. Apprehending this thorn in her side would be fun, especially if he put up a fight. Sokka moved with startling swiftness. The boomerang flew from his fingertips and arched toward her with a whistle. Azula ducked. How had he seen her?
“The South Pole can be dark for months out of the year. This is like a summer’s evening for me.”
“No point in hiding then,” Azula said, moving hands and feet in a tight circle. Rooted in Dragon stance. Blue fire followed the sweep of her arm, bursting from her flat palm. He rolled out of the way, flicking his sword free from the sheath. The fire caught her desk and drapes on fire, mellowing to milder orange. A blow to the back of the head made her stagger. She blinked at him, stunned. Sokka caught the boomerang neatly.
“Boomerang, you always come back!” he said. You’ll only get that move once, peasant.
Rage was a quick-fire burn. They danced for some time, trading blows while smoke swirled around them. Azula lunged forward, kicking a burst of fire back through one foot to speed her momentum. He waited, narrow-eyed and watchful. Darted to one side at the last instant, flicking the bell rope around her ankle. Azula caught herself on one hand, all her weight braced on the points of her fingertips. A flick of fire burned the rope to ash. Azula sprang up and flipped neatly to her feet, flicking a speck of ash from her shoulder.
“Not bad,” she said. Their battle was almost fun. Especially since as with all things, she was winning. Sokka gave a thin smile.
“Not bad? I don’t even think Aang has gone toe-to-toe with you so long,” he said.
“Because Air Nomads are cowards. But the Avatar does remember one thing,” Azula said, waiting. The hiss and crackle of the blaze around them told her what she wanted to hear.
“What’s that?”
“Be aware of your surroundings.” With a groaning crack, the curtain rod overhead snapped and a heap of heavy burning fabric fell over him. By the time Sokka thrashed free of the curtain, hacking from the smoke, Azula pressed her fingertip just beneath his chin. Felt the trip-hammer beat of his heart.
“Don’t move,” she said. A muscle fired in his jaw, but he obeyed. Azula clapped her hands and servants and guards filed in, dousing the last of the flames and opening windows to allow smoke to billow out. Fire Nation staff were quite adept at putting out fires.
“Take the peasant to my chamber. I’ll have to mull over what to do with him.”
It was a puzzle. Of course there were deeper, darker cells to throw him in, or prisons designed to hold benders. The crux of the issue was she wanted to extract information from him, later barter him for the Avatar. Interrogation of any severity was out of the question, at least for now. Father’s plan would move ahead apace. There was time, perhaps a month left before the comet arrived. Neutralizing the Avatar was important, but training and preparing were equally so. Perhaps the Avatar and his friends would do her a favor and attempt to rescue her captive before the comet. Either way, for now she was stuck with the peasant.
~
The firebender tossed him into Azula’s chambers. His clothes still smoldered and the bump on his head now had a buddy. Ow-ow ow-ow ow-ow. Azula was remorseless, competent. So irritatingly composed even while dueling. She made her brother look as tame as a lion-kitten. Sokka snickered to himself. It was a strange day when he wished Zuko was here. He poked around the drawers, hoping for snacks. His belly gave a plaintive rumble. Before the invasion, he’d thrown up his morning porridge and hadn’t been able to eat anything since. Mm, some jerky would be nice. Or a heavy pork-beef steak drenched in gravy, sea-prune stew . . . Sokka rubbed his aching belly.
“I know, stomach. But we have to find our way out of here first,” he said. He paced and pondered. Sure, he’d made a mockery of Fire Nation prisons, but why would the princess want to keep him in her bedroom? Did she have some other weird Fire Nation torture tactic planned? He didn’t have to wait long. A servant opened the door and in she strode, in those distracting black silk pajamas. Not good. No, she was Ozai’s evil spawn, Suki’s jailor, not to mention his captor. He shouldn’t be thinking about her loose black hair looked so silky. Or the ripe weight of her breasts . . . Stars and spirits save him. It must be the head injury talking.
Azula narrowed a slit-eyed look at her servants, who bustled in and spread a generous meal on her small table. Sokka’s mouth watered at the heavenly smells. Meat, an unfamiliar sharp spice, bean soup, fragrant rice. Yum. Sokka drummed his fingers on his thighs, waiting for her to speak first. The servants performed the task with precise grace with only the wisp of robes and the patter of slippers. Azula’s golden eyes watched him, her face smooth and imperturbable.
It would probably irk her to hear it, but Sokka thought she moved like water. Liquid grace from one position to the next. Even the way she sat and crossed one leg over the other, her bare foot swinging, was graceful. A servant draped a napkin over her lap, poured her tea and sweetened it with two drops of honey before offer it to her on bended knee. Azula didn’t even glance at the servant. She sipped, eyes steady on him. He waited with narrowed eyes. The combination of the warmth of the room and his headache made sweat bead in heavy drops on his temples. He wracked his brain. What was she planning? To make him watch as she devoured a feast, then offer a sweetmeat in exchange for Aang and the others? No way. He would sacrifice a griping stomach to save them.
“Leave us,” she said tersely. The three of them filed out in silence, the firebender guard shut the door with a soft click.
“Join me, Sokka,” she said with a gesture. Sokka licked his lips, hesitating.
“They do sit in the Water Tribe, don’t they?” she said with some sharpness. Sokka took the seat opposite her.
“We usually don’t trouble with chairs, but yes,” Sokka said mildly. He eyed the mouth-watering food with suspicion.
“It isn’t poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said.
“How can I know for sure?”
Azula rolled her eyes and stabbed a bite of the spiced meat with her fork and chewed. A smear of sauce adorned her lower lip. Sokka checked the crazy urge to lick it away.
“You should consider yourself grateful, to have a Fire Nation princess as your taster,” she said. Sokka chuckled as he dove in. It tasted even more delicious than it smelled. Tender meat in a spicy-sweet sauce. Sokka drizzled a thin dark sauce on his rice, it added a salty punch. The bread was unleavened, crispy. Still warm from the oven. Yum.
“I guess so. Thank you for the food,” he said, his voice garbled by the food pouched in his cheeks. With a look of mild disgust, Azula poured him a cup of tea. He paused his devouring to accept the cup. Such a strange day. He took a gulp. The tea burst on his tongue, a spicy Fire Nation variety, quite tasty. Sokka groaned. The good food went a long way to settling him. For her part, Azula sipped her tea and took a few neat bites. At last replete, Sokka gave a gusty sigh.
“Delicious. Now what?”
Azula took a long draught to finish her tea.
“Now we sleep. There’s plenty of time for me to dismantle you before my Father’s plan comes to fruition. We have some time to get to know each other.” Ignoring the implied horror in the statement, Sokka cast a glance around the room, the bed. The bed. He gulped. A howling male part of brain presented him with the image of him spooned up behind her, smelling her hair . . .
“Uh where will I sleep?” On the floor, like a pet or something, probably. Azula rose and crossed the room, pressing a panel on the wall. The hidden door popped open.
“In my coat closet.”
A heap of fur coats on the floor reminded him piercingly of home. It was actually pretty comfortable. Azula left a candle and waterskin.
“Sweet dreams, Sokka.” The saccharine sweet tone did not bode well for him.
~
The Water Tribe captive slept in her coat closet. While she was confident she could react in time should he attempt to assassinate her, the click of the lock was comforting. Despite the very long and very tiring day, sleep eluded her. She hadn’t slept with company since Mai and Ty Lee had been her companions, scouring the world of the Avatar and his friends. The thought of them was like a sore in her mouth, painful and persistent. It illustrated the point brilliantly. Azula could not trust anyone. In all things, she had only herself to rely on. Her mind wandered, dreaming of a day when the Firelord’s throne would be hers, wreathed in her signature blue fire. Watching all the Fire Nation, all the world, look up at her with the fear and awe that was her due.